Harry owled his work with a request to take the next day off, citing his need to comply with the court order against him in the Malfoy case. He implied he was taking the day to see a healer and arrange counseling sessions, figuring that when he returned he'd say he spent the day looking for and researching healers, wanting to find the right one to help him with his condition.

At eight O'clock at night on the dot, Harry apparated to Malfoy Manor and knocked. An elf answered the door and led him upstairs. He'd never been upstairs before and tried to take it all in. He was taken to the third floor and led into a suite of rooms that looked like something found in a posh hotel. The outer room was a sitting room complete with a bar, but there was an open door revealing a bed within and several additional closed doors.

Draco was there, sitting on a sofa with a drink in hand. He stood up when Harry arrived and offered Harry a drink, which Harry declined. "So I guess we should start then?" he asked apprehensively.

"Yes. Do you have the potion? I forgot to ask…" Harry replied.

"Yes, we always have some. I like to feel I have it in case my desires get out of hand. It helps me to squelch them, knowing what the alternative is if I don't."

"Where is it?"

Draco sighed and asked, "Must we really go through with this?" Harry nodded, so he summoned an elf, who provided the potion. He drank it quickly, but held onto the vial and was slow to react afterwards.

"Draco, are you okay?" Harry asked.

It took Draco a minute to respond, slowly moving his head to look blankly at Harry. He didn't say anything or even nod or shake his head. Instead he shrugged slowly. The potion was quick to take effect.

"Can you talk?" Harry asked, but received only further blank stares. "Do you want to go to bed?" Draco looked for all the world like he didn't understand the question or even how to communicate such. "Right, I'll just put you to bed, shall I?"

When Draco failed to respond again, Harry pulled him up and led him into the bedroom. Harry changed Draco into a pair of pajamas he found on the bed and then encouraged Draco to sit on the bed. Harry assumed Draco would at least be able to put himself to sleep, but Draco continued to sit there like a brainless zombie. Harry ended up pushing Draco down, ordering him to close his eyes, and spelling off the lights.

Harry went out to the sofa to lie down. It was early yet and he couldn't get to sleep, so he lay there thinking about his day; tea with Draco and his children and the conversation with Draco afterwards. He kept coming back to the proposed permanent mating Draco had suggested. Draco hadn't given him many details, but he needed to know more. Eventually it occurred to him that Draco must have a book on it and there were several large bookcases in the room. Thus he decided to look through Draco's books.

There were dozens of books on Incubi, but none of them from the usual victim perspective focusing on how to recognize the creature, prevent attacks, and ward off further attacks. These books were on how to live and cope with the virus, without letting it ruin your life and the lives of others. There was one crisp new-looking book on the suppressant potion, with one bookmark towards the end. Harry flipped to the marked page, which contained a very long section on possible side effects, one of which was underlined.

In rare cases, the suppressant potion can cause a zombie-like effect, in which the individual feels like they are buried under an impenetrable cloud, preventing them from interacting with reality. They are slow to respond, especially when first taking the potion, but often improve as the concentration of suppressant in their system decreases. Occasionally this side effect wears off over time, but if it doesn't, there is no known counter. Often sufferers chose to go off of the potion and risk the legal consequences instead of enduring in the fog.

That was all that section in the book said about Draco's side effect, which wasn't particularly helpful, although it did confirm what Draco had told Harry already. Reading about side effects was interesting, but it wasn't what Harry really wanted to know. He needed to know about the mating, so he used one of Hermione's location spells, making several books light up and one positively glow. He picked up the glowing book and started reading.

The entire book was on Incubi and their mates, including the permanent mating ceremony. A mated Incubus was strictly monogamous and absolutely incapable of sexual encounters with anyone other than their mate. The mate had more free will and choice, but cheating by the mate would deeply wound an Incubus and prolonged cheating could lead to death of the Incubus. The Incubus feeds off of the mate bond as the sole source to satisfy the virus induced sexual desires. Without a sufficient amount of stimulation, the virus is liable to take over and that could mean anything from insanity to death. There was no cure, which was why it was so important to be careful in choosing a mate; essentially the Incubus was choosing to put their life in someone else's hands.

Draco had asked Harry to be his mate, which meant he was willing to put his life in Harry's hands. That meant a lot to Harry and made him want to go through with the process all the more. There was virtually no effect on the mate, besides having a clingy and needy Incubus dependent on them. The Incubus might die without the mate, but the mate wouldn't die without the Incubus. The only real concern for the mate of an Incubus was pregnancy.

Incubi are extremely fertile and crave children. A typical mate therefore bears multiple children to satisfy the Incubus. If sex occurs while they are awake, typical contraceptive methods can be employed, but there were few options for dream sex. Permanent sterilization methods performed on the mate are the only way to completely eliminate the danger of pregnancy during dream sex. That can create a problem if done too soon and the Incubus then has an insatiable desire for another child. The author thus recommended that at least two children be produced before going this route.

Getting pregnant wasn't likely something Harry had to worry about; it was Draco who would end up pregnant. At the moment he was happy with three children, thinking that three was more than enough, but he began to wonder how he would feel if Draco ended up pregnant again. A fourth child wouldn't be a bad thing…it was more that he had a lot on his plate already, with three children who didn't know him, one of whom didn't like him. He hoped Draco wouldn't want another anytime soon.

While Harry was reading, he heard some rustling from the bedroom. He thought nothing of it at first, but then he heard the crack of an elf, followed by panicked elf screeches. "Master Draco should not be doing that in the closet! Master Draco should be using the loo!"

Harry jumped up and ran into the bedroom to find Draco standing in his closet with his pants down, aiming a stream of piss onto the carpet. It was already dribbling to an end before Harry could figure out an appropriate response.

Once Draco pulled up his pants, Harry said, "Come on, let's get you in the loo before you decide to do that again." He looked around at the several doors, one of which opened inward to show gleaming white porcelain. He pulled Draco that way, leading Draco into the loo. "This is where you should be relieving yourself."

"Huh?" Draco asked, looking confused.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?" Harry asked loudly, like he was talking to a deaf person.

"Huh?"

Harry sighed and hit the side of his head with his palm in frustration. Draco was worse than he'd described himself. "Do you need to poo?"

"Poo?"

"Yes, poo."

"No…"

"Is there anything in this room you want to use?" Harry asked and Draco nodded. "What?"

Draco pointed to the large claw-foot tub. Harry felt like he was bathing a three-year-old as he helped Draco undress and get into the tub. Draco grabbed a bottle of body wash and squirted almost the entire bottle on himself, creating copious bubbles as the water continued to pour in. Harry thought for a moment that Draco was going to play in the bubble bath like a three-year-old, but then he noticed that Draco's face was still blank, not smiling. Instead Draco clumsily washed himself, dropping his washcloth multiple times, forcing Harry to summon it for him.

Eventually Draco finished his bath and Harry helped him dry off. Then Harry found a fresh pair of pajamas, which he changed Draco into, before putting Draco back to bed. It still wasn't that late, but this time Draco fell right to sleep. Harry went back to the sofa, where he read for another hour, before going to sleep himself.

When they woke up in the morning, Draco was finally able to communicate, verbally expressing that they needed to call an elf to bring breakfast. Only Draco's speech was slow and his face still seemed rather blank, as if not all the lights were on upstairs. Harry called the elf for breakfast, which brought them two trays in the sitting room. They sat quietly together, Harry enjoying the delicious pancakes immensely; they were even better than Mrs. Weasley's, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

Finished eating, Harry put his fork down and looked over at Draco, who had barely touched his food. Draco was holding his fork backward, the prongs in his hand, while trying to spear a pancake with the handle. It looked like Draco had only managed to damage his breakfast and create holes in the pancakes, without actually getting any in his mouth.

"Here, let me help you with that," Harry said, taking Draco's fork away.

The handle was smeared with the whipped cream the elves had topped the cakes with. Harry spelled it clean, before turning it around and correctly placing it in Draco's hand. Draco then proceeded to stab his food with the correct end, but with no technique. After repeated trials, he got a small piece on his fork, which he then tried to insert into his mouth, but missed, leaving behind a dab of whipped cream on his cheek. Harry thought the miss warranted some sort of reaction, but none came from Draco, other than to try again.

Eventually Harry decided to confiscate the fork and feed Draco himself. Draco ate about three bites before proclaiming, "Full."

Harry didn't think there was any way in the world Draco could be full after three bites, but he figured the wizard would rather starve than be fed like a toddler.

After breakfast, Harry cleaned Draco up. He was just wondering what to do for the rest of the day with a zombie, when Draco picked up a book and asked, "Read?"

It wasn't one of Draco's books on Incubi or anything else of practical value. Instead it was a pre-teen romance full of obvious corny plots. It was the type of thing Harry couldn't imagine Draco going for, but Draco did seem to be paying attention, sitting down and watching Harry read. Harry wasn't entirely sure Draco enjoyed it, but then Draco didn't seem capable of enjoying anything.

Harry read until lunch. By then Draco had begun to recover more of his coordination and was able to eat half of his sandwich on his own, although it was not without difficulty. Harry offered to help Draco with the rest of the meal, but Draco declined, again saying he was full. Harry picked back up the book and asked, "Should I continue?"

"How long potion?" Draco asked, pointing to his watch.

"Well you took it at about eight last night and it's now one, so it's been in your system almost seventeen hours. It's the twelve hour potion, isn't it?" Harry asked, doing the mental calculation. If Draco was supposed to take it every twelve hours, it would have him re-medicating right about when they were eating breakfast. Draco had still been an utter moron at breakfast. There was no way that would work.

"End?" Draco asked.

"Huh?" Harry asked confused, not understanding what Draco wanted.

"Over?" Draco asked again, pointing to his watch.

"Oh, you want to know how long until the potion is over?" Harry asked and this time Draco nodded. "Well it's supposed to leave the system completely after twenty-four hours, which is another seven hours away."

"Seven?" Draco sounded confused, not incredulous as one would expect for that question.

"This many," Harry said, holding up seven fingers. Draco moved to copy, but only got up four fingers on one hand and one on the other. "Close enough. Seems like practically forever." Draco nodded. "Shall I continue reading?"

Draco nodded again, so Harry continued. Eight O'clock came and went without Draco returning to normal. He improved with each passing hour, managing to eat a good half of his dinner by himself, but progress was slow and subtle. Just before nine, he fell asleep on the sofa and Harry levitated him to bed.


Author's Note: This is my least favorite chapter, but I think showing the side effects was necessary for Harry to understand why Draco did what he did. Up next Harry will be invited over for dinner.

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