Note: Once again I am awed by all the feedback. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Today is my dad's 50th birthday! So we are all getting ready to go to the party! But I managed to sneak this in just in time! It's like hobbits giving presents on their own birthday... well, sort of. Don't you like it??????

Funny note (please ignore): My dad knows I write fanfiction, and is bugging me to write Star Trek fics, but he doesn't know I write slash. I don't think he would mind though, because a few days ago he told me (and I tranlate directly from Norwegian): "I support gays so much I almost am one". Lol. He's also totally in love with Mr. Darcy and keeps skipping ahead to watch the scenes with him in P&P, as he calls it (he watches it SERIOUSLY three times a week at least). Don't you just love my dad? Lol. He's so sweet.

-:-

Chapter 9: One Shot Firewhiskey Too Many

Harry looked out the window, noting with a great deal of amusement as an unidentified Order member tried to get into Grimmauld Place. They had been doing that a lot lately. He could just picture the look on Dumbledore's face when presented with this particular puzzle. The old wizard would only become more confused when he found out that the 'rightful heir of the ancient and most noble house of Black' had been the one to claim back everything… and how the hell could the Black heir get hold of the Potter vaults? Harry smirked as he let the curtain fall back. He waited until the man had gone and then went out to buy food.

He had been at Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer holiday. During that time he had gotten used to having such a "big" body. He had read everything useful in the library, and he had trained. During what spare time that was left him he had tried making the house more presentable, but it wasn't high on his list of priorities. Now, with the young Weasley twins back at Hogwarts, he needed to visit some very old friends.

He had decided after killing Nagini, the last horcrux, that interviewing Ron and Hermione about the battle should be his next step. His dreams of Voldemort had not become any more intense than before, so he reasoned the bastard was still in a forest somewhere. He needed to know more about what Dumbledore had been doing during the battle… and he wanted an excuse to see his friends.

In the end he had also decided that he would have to tell them, despite his horrible record of telling people about his true identity so far. Hopefully they would at least react more like Snape and actually believe him at the very least. He was both excited and nervous when he left the house. He had found out they lived in a cottage not far from the Burrow.

He apparated to the top of a sunny hill. To the east he could make out the Burrow, the sight painfully familiar and yet distant in his mind. Down the other side of the hill lay the Granger-Weasley cottage. It was what one would call two and a half stories high, and wonderfully cosy looking, though not small. It looked more than big enough for the family that lived there. Smoke rose from the chimney and in the garden some of the flowers were still in bloom. The house was painted white, with a grass roof, and a welcoming, though perhaps not in the best of tastes, orange door. Harry wondered how Ron had managed that one. He set off down the hill with a grin on his face.

Harry unconsciously smoothed down his blue robes, the exact same colour as the cloudless sky, as he walked up the path to the door. He had chosen the colour carefully, going for something neutral and calming, and which didn't look totally wrong on him.

He took a deep breath and knocked twice, much more firmly that he though he could manage. It was a Sunday, so he hoped both of them were still at home. He didn't think he could go over to the Burrow and ask for them. He heard someone move inside, and then Ron's voice, though it sounded deeper than Harry remembered, but that was perhaps just his mind playing tricks on him.

"I'll get it." The door swung open and there stood Ronald Weasley. He looked good, very good in fact. Harry was almost positive he didn't have as many freckles, but again his memory could be faulty. The redhead was still taller than Harry, despite his new genes. The robes were a deep, almost brown, green colour. That was the most shocking bit perhaps, but they suited him very well, and looked fairly new. His face didn't have any real noticeable wrinkles yet, but he looked more robust that before.

"Can I help you?" Ron asked, frowning only a tad at the stranger, who seemed to be staring a bit too much for comfort.

"I- eh, I'm Alex Rosén," Harry stuttered slightly. "I need to speak to you and your wife," he said quickly, trying to come up with the best way to get in the house to he could sit down. He didn't think he could do this standing. Ron's frown deepened.

"Rosén?"

"Who is it, Ron?" Hermione's voice drifted from inside. She appeared by her husband's side a second later, and Harry swallowed the sudden onslaught of emotions. She looked amazing to him. Her hair was still bushy, but she seemed to have grown up properly since last time. Even at eighteen Harry had never really thought she looked very womanly, but now she was. Her pale purple robes were a little tight and showed off her figure. She was taller as well, though not near Harry or Ron's height. Perhaps she was wearing high-heeled shoes?

"Says his name is Rosén, Alex Rosén," Ron said. Hermione frowned in thought for a moment.

"The twins know an Alex Rosén at Hogwarts… are you his father?" she asked. Harry swallowed again. He needed to do this right, but there wasn't a right way to tell your best friends you were back from the dead!

"Could we please go inside and sit down?" Harry asked. "It is very important that I speak with you." This had Hermione looking a little alarmed.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes… kind of," Harry said. "Please? I'll hand over my wand if it would make you feel better." The married couple exchanged a look.

"No that's alright, I'm sure," Hermione said eventually. "Come inside." The pair led the way inside and Harry found himself in a cosy looking sitting room. It held a redbrick fireplace, a couch that looked like it had seen better days, but was comfortable, two chairs, a table with mugs and a coffee pot on, several bookcases and a narrow staircase. Everywhere Harry looked he saw mementoes from a life he had not been able to participate in. Knick-knacks and souvenirs sat on the shelves and mantle. Pictures hung on the walls, with people waving from within. In one corner leaned three broomsticks, two of them smaller than the other. In another sat a basket Harry could see was meant for a cat.

"Please sit down," Hermione offered. Harry seated himself on the couch. Ron took what appeared to be his favourite chair, as it had an orange pillow in it. Hermione sat on the couch beside Harry and summoned another mug. "Coffee? Or would you prefer tea?" she offered.

"Coffee, please," Harry said gratefully. She poured by hand and gave him the mug. Harry had never really had time to drink much coffee in his past life, but during his time at Grimmauld Place he had come to rely on it in the mornings. He drank a good gulp and then set it down. He couldn't put it off forever. He was just terrified of being thrown out on his arse.

"What is it you need to tell us then?" Ron asked, looking at Harry curiously. Hermione still seemed a little worried. "Are you Alex Rosén's father?"

"No, I'm not… I am Alex Rosén." Two pairs of eyebrows rose to their respective hairlines. His old friends stared at him in shock.

"Was it an accident?" Hermione inquired. "The twins haven't had time to write from Hogwarts yet… but they did seem to look for someone on the station they couldn't find… oh, dear, honey, are you alright?" She looked at him with motherly concern and Harry again felt the emotions well up in him. She hadn't looked at him like that in a long time.

"No, I mean, yes, I'm fine, but it wasn't an accident. I did this on purpose."

"But why would you do that? Did you want to grow up?" Harry looked her in the eyes, hoping against hope that she would believe him. It was Hermione he felt he needed to convince first. Without her Ron would never believe him.

"Do you believe in… reincarnation?" he asked. Even to himself his voice sounded weak and pathetic. Hermione's concerned look vanished and was replaced by a look of confusion. "Hermione look at me," Harry pleaded, staring into her eyes. "I needed to grow up because mentally I was not a little boy. I am Alex Rosén, but I have the memories of someone else, someone I was in a past life, and still am, in a way." It didn't look like he was reaching her with any of this. She still looked confused and now worried again, most like she thought him insane. Harry took a deep breath and pieced her with his green gaze. He plunged in.

"I am Harry Potter, your friend, reborn, because I did not fulfil the prophecy and kill Voldemort. Draco did instead and I was killed my Lucius. I found out that the reason I am still around is because the Dark Lord survived, just like the prophecy said he would until I kill him. Nagini was still alive, hiding in the forest, the last horcrux. I killed her at the beginning of the summer. Now all I have to do is wait for Voldemort to find me and finish the job.

"I know this is all very hard to believe," Harry continued before they could interrupt. "But it is me, Harry. I remember everything. From our first to last adventure. First year with Voldemort on the back of Quirrle's head. Second with the Basilisk and Ginny, and you, Hermione, figuring out the pipes. Third year with Sirius, my godfather, who we rescued with your time-turner, along with Buckbeak the hippogriff. Forth with the Triwizard Tournament and Voldemort's return, our wands connecting, me seeing Lily and James. Fifth year with… Sirius' death when he fell through the veil…" Harry sighed. He felt exhausted just by going through it all. He hoped he had mentioned all the things that weren't common knowledge. He closed his eyes and waited for their reaction.

"What-… what is the password for the Marauders' Map, and who were they?" Hermione asked shakily. Harry opened his eyes and met hers, full of tears. Harry drew in a shaky breath of his own.

"The Marauders were James Potter, or Prongs, Sirius Black, or Padfoot, Remus Lupin, or Moony, and Peter Pettigrew, or Wormtail, though I prefer to call him a traitorous bastard. The password to the map that shows everyone inside Hogwarts is 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.' To wipe it blank you say, 'Mischief managed.'" A long silence followed. Hermione's eyes flickered over to Ron, who sat as if made of stone in his chair. A tear fell down her cheek.

"Why is your patronus a stag?" Ron asked suddenly. Harry turned to him.

"Because my father was an unregistered animagus and that was his form," he said without hesitation.

"Oh, God, could it be?" Hermione whispered desperately.

"Yes, it is… please believe me," Harry said, looking from one to the other. "I've missed you guys so much."

"What was the last thing you said to us?" Hermione asked, her words drowning in a half-sob. He looked at her, his own tears falling. Ron's eyes were glazing over too.

"Remember: Stay safe because only one of us has got to be a hero tonight." That did it for Hermione. She broke down and threw her arms around Harry's neck. He clutched at her tightly, his tears wetting her hair. From the chair he heard a soft, 'Bloody hell.' When they finally parted Harry was suddenly yanked up from the couch and into a fierce hug. He hugged Ron back. Hermione sobbed into her hands.

"Merlin, Harry! Bloody hell…" Ron drew back and held Harry by the shoulders at arms length. "You don't look like you, but… same eyes I guess… you look good though." Harry chucked weakly through his tears.

"Thanks, Ron… you guys look great. Congratulations on getting married and having two amazing boys… and I'm flattered you named one after me." Hermione suddenly squealed and then they were in a three-way hug. They laughed and cried at the same time.

"You were Alex Rosén at Hogwarts last year?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, those boys of yours are pretty inventive!" He laughed when Ron groaned.

"Fred and George keep teaching them things behind our backs!"

"Oh, sit, sit! And tell us everything!" Hermione demanded. They all sat down on the couch, Harry in the middle. It was a tight fit, but he didn't mind. He couldn't get enough of hugging his best friends.

Harry told them everything. From being four years old and getting his memories back, to his fight with Snape, to his suspicions of Dumbledore and his killing of Nagini. They had a good few laughs about the pranks he pulled. When he told them of the Christmas at Malfoy Manor they grew quiet.

In return they told him of their lives, of who had ended up with who, and how Draco had married Pansy right after the battle. Harry found himself crying again when they told him how Draco had reacted when he had died. He was convinced the blond still loved him now. Ron and Hermione comforted him as best they could, the latter whispering in his ear that she was certain Draco loved him still.

When they asked if he planned on telling Draco he avoided the question. He wasn't sure why he was hesitating, but he didn't know how the blond would react. They seemed to understand his reluctance. Eventually they came to the subject of Dumbledore and Voldemort.

"Dumbledore didn't want to go looking for Nagini! He said she wasn't important. We tried, but we couldn't find her," Hermione said guiltily.

"It wasn't your fault. It was his job," Harry stated firmly. She nodded and continued in a more sure tone of voice.

"He duelled like a madman," she said. "But Ron and I think he was… indebting people to him."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"We have a theory," at this Ron snorted, meaning Hermione had a theory and he had simply agreed to it. "He knew you would kill Voldemort, so he wanted to secure the aftermath. We think he saved lives just so they would owe him a wizard's debt he could exploit later… and afterwards he kept trying to convince people he was the real hero, not Draco, but of course he never said so outright-"

"Den jævla drittsekken!" Harry swore in Norwegian. Ron and Hermione started at him. Harry looked at them sheepishly. "Sorry, I mean, the damned bastard." At this Ron nodded fervently. "He hid my last will and testament too."

"What!?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I left most of it to Draco, but some stuff was supposed to go to you guys. I got it back now, though, don't worry."

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Nothing yet… I need to wait for the opportune moment." Harry smirked devilishly. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance and then smirked too.

"You're staying, aren't you?" Hermione asked. Harry blinked.

"I've been staying at Grimmauld Place," he began, but Ron cut him off.

"You can stay here until further notice. You said it yourself that you need to wait for Voldemort to go on the move, right? So, we want you to stay here." Harry smiled at his friends.

"I'll go make some lunch, shall I?" Hermione declared and disappeared into the kitchen before anyone could answer him. Harry looked at Ron and grinned.

"So, fancy a game of chess?" Harry laughed.

"Haven't yet found someone who always loses against you?" They shared another laugh and Ron got out his set.

The rest of the day passed in perfect bliss as far as Harry was concerned. They never stopped talking or laughing. There was so much to say and catch up on. They ended up falling asleep on the couch, leaning on each other. Hermione woke them up around midnight and showed Harry the small guestroom. Harry hadn't slept so well since he left Norway.

…

It was Halloween again, and Harry was still staying at Ron and Hermione's. He had been back to Grimmauld Place several times to collect things, but all in all he was perfectly happy to stay put. He didn't want to tell the rest of the Weasley clan. He was still contemplating introducing himself as Alex Rosén, but as Hermione's insistence he waited to make a decision.

Now the faithful day was upon them again, and it was raining. Harry wondered what sort of crazy or dangerous thing would happen this time. The Spirit of Halloween was not about to let him down.

As evening arrived Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in around the table in the sitting room, drinking a relaxing glass of red wine. They joked and laughed, but also toasted to the memory of those who had died so long ago. Harry had told them all about Kenneth and Elisabeth, and they were happy for him that he finally had parents to love him. Harry tried not to think about how he was sure he must have lost them now. He couldn't very well show up as a twenty-year-old suddenly without them demanding answers.

His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. Ron rose from his favourite chair and went to get it. Hermione and Harry heard him open the door and then Ron's voice.

"Draco?" he asked, a touch incredulously. Hermione and Harry perked up at the name, and rose from their seats.

"You're observation skills have improved, Weasley, Auror training no doubt," came the sarcastic reply. Ron rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let the blond in.

"Mind telling us to what we owe the pleasure of your company?" Ron asked as Draco came inside, a bit sarcastic himself. Draco took in the room, his eyes lingering curiously on Harry.

"Forgive me, I did not know you had company," he said.

"Oh, no it's no trouble, Draco," Hermione said with a smile. "We're glad to see you." Draco looked like he was trying not to snort.

"I should have firecalled ahead… but I needed to clear my head a bit so I walked… I'm sorry… who is your friend?" Ron offered Draco a seat and they all sat down again.

"A- Chris Rosén," Harry said the first name that came to mind, before Ron or Hermione got any ideas, very grateful he remembered Draco had already met his father, and therefore couldn't pretend to be his own parent.

"Ah, yes, you look like Alex… a brother?" Harry nodded. Draco looked to Ron and Hermione, his face pensive.

"He's a good friend," Hermione said. "Alex is friends with the twins, you know." Draco nodded absently.

"I chucked Pansy out of the Manor," he stated bluntly. Harry's stomach did a flip. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. "After I… came out of hiding as it were, I realised that after all these years I don't care about image anymore. I can't stand her, and I told her to pack and get out, and that I didn't care what she told everybody. She… will probably be on the front page of the Prophet fairly soon."

"I'm sorry." Draco shook his head at Hermione.

"Don't be. I'm glad. I think Cesare's glad too. He never liked her."

"He never liked his mother?" Hermione asked, shocked. Draco looked at her sideways, seeming to consider something.

"Can anyone really like Pansy?" Ron snorted in agreement and Draco smirked.

"I think firewhiskey is in order," Ron decided, summoning a bottle and glasses from the kitchen. He poured by hand and everybody took a glass.

"To taking out the trash, finally," Draco declared regally.

"Draco!" Hermione admonished. Draco looked at Harry curiously. He clinked his glass with Harry's and then downed it in one go. Harry followed suit, keeping eye contact through the process.

Several more toasts followed. The four talked about everything and nothing. At eleven Hermione retired and the men were left. By then all three were more than a little tipsy.

"So, Draco, you finally got rid of the bitch?" Ron asked casually. It was probably the third time he had asked that.

"Yes… by the way could I stay here tonight? I don't want to risk going back until I know she's gone."

"Well, you'll need to take the couch," Ron said. "Because he's got the guestroom," he said, pointing at Harry. Draco looked back and forth between them curiously.

"You're staying here?"

"Rather a long way back to Norway tonight, even for a wizard," Harry said with a shrug. Draco nodded in agreement.

"Yes… though I hear muggle transportation is atrocious! All those car things running around." Harry snorted at this, while Ron nodded.

"Don't you own a limo?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. Draco didn't seem to find it odd that Harry knew that.

"No, that was Pansy's," he explained, his speech slurring. "And she took it, and the driver with her I think. I suspect she was fucking him, which is a pity since he was rather hot." Draco's tone went up and down as if he were singing the words, and Harry suddenly had the image of a Norwegian trying to speak English, but keeping his normal inflection. This led to him picturing a drunk Draco trying to make himself understood in Norway, and he couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Are you laughing at me?" Draco demanded, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Are you prejudice perhaps? Do you have something against homosex- uals?" Harry pressed his lips together to keep from laughing more at the way Draco was speaking. Ron snorted from his chair.

"Believe me, he's not. He's far from it, in fact." Draco raised an eyebrow, looking interested.

"Really? And why's that, I wonder."

"Another drink?" Harry asked, changing the subject tactfully. Draco was easily distracted and they continued on talking. Hours passed and they all got even more drunk. Harry said something funny, and Ron laughed. Harry should have known he shouldn't have made up another name. It was a miracle Ron didn't call Harry.

"Ha! Good one, eh, Alex-"

"Alex?" Draco slurred, looking at Ron with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I mean Chris. Alex is the little one," Ron snickered. "But we don't call him Chris, do we? We call him Harry." Draco's eyes grew cold suddenly. He turned to Harry, who was sitting beside him on the couch.

"Why's that?" he asked curiously.

"Eh, middle-name," Harry explained. Draco leaned in.

"Is that so? Well, I think that's an ugly name," he hissed.

"Draco!" Ron exclaimed in shock.

"Don't mind me," Draco said, turning away from Harry and grabbing the firewhiskey on the table. "My mood was shot, but there is a way to fix that. Another shot of firewhiskey!" He poured another drink and gulped it down.

"You can't talk like that in my house, to my guest. Al-… Ha-"

"Ron," Harry warned. "I think it's time for you to go to bed." Ron nodded and stood shakily without complaint at being ordered around in his own house. He disappeared off to bed. It was only after he was gone Harry realised he was now alone with a drunk Draco Malfoy, who was leaning towards him again, something unidentifiable in his eyes.

"So… Harry, was it?" He leaned in suggestively, his mouth close to Harry's ear. Draco was the shorter one now, so he had to sit up more in the couch. "You know I never found out your view on gays… what did Ron mean when he said-… I don't remember what he said! But it got me interested." Harry shivered at the closeness. He was very drunk, and only now realised the utter foolishness of that. He tried rallying some willpower to push Draco away, but now Draco's hand was travelling up his thigh.

"Dray…co," he slurred. "St- stop."

"Why?" Draco breathed. He leaned in and started licking at Harry's neck. Harry was practically delirious. Draco was so close, so unbearably close. He could smell the man, and he wanted desperately to embrace him and cry and kiss and touch.

"You'll-… you don't want to do this," Harry managed to get out. Draco chuckled against Harry's neck, then kissed the skin wetly before replying.

"Are you trying to say I'll regret this in the morning? Don't worry, Harry, I never regret sex. Two people meeting and enjoying a little pleasure together, what's to regret?" His hand moved up and Draco pressed his palm against Harry's crotch. Harry turned away sharply, staggering to his feet and breathing heavily. He had frustrated tears in his eyes.

"I'm going to bed," he said. When he looked back at the couch he saw that Draco had toppled over and had fallen asleep across the couch. Harry pulled down the blanket that was over the back of the couch and lay it over the sleeping blond. He practically crawled back to his room and got in the bed. Once there he proceeded to cry himself to sleep. He could still feel Draco's touch, but none of them was really meant for him.

It wasn't fair, but Harry knew his life had never once been fair. It was pointless to expect it to start being that way now.

[Oh, poor, poor Harry. Don't worry, this will have a happy ending and Draco will find out who Harry is eventually. Very soon in fact!