A/N:

What's all this? Another super-fast update!

Warnings:

Will be HPDM, will contain violence, strong language, and various other adult themes. I would recommend that you be of age in your resident country to read this story.

Disclaimer:

I don't own these characters or this world. These ramblings make me no profit. I am prone to bribery in the form of reviews and squashed-fly slices.

"Harry?" Lucius ventured. Met by silence he tried again, "Son?"

Harry glared up at him from his sitting position behind his desk, "I'm not your son," he said, and returned his attention to the parchment in front of him.

"I don't know how to make this right," Lucius said quietly, hand grasping the corner of the desk, "I'm sorry."

"What exactly are you sorry for?"

"For being arrogant enough to think that I could yield him the way I could when he was a boy."

Harry stopped reading and studied him, "Good answer," he said, deliberately intoning that he didn't quite believe it.

"Are you going to keep her away from me?"

"Astrid?"

Lucius nodded, Harry pursed his lips.

"She's not my property," he said eventually, knowing that the comparison would sting.

"I really am sorry Harry," Lucius said as he turned to leave.

"I know you are," Harry murmured.

Draco hadn't spoken in three days. Not even when the nurse had taken it upon herself to lecture him, or when Richard had bundled him home from the hospital, or when the Hogmanay festivities had lit up the city's skyline.

In his darkened bedroom, Richard sat with him patiently, holding one-sided conversations and ensuring he ate. Asha was glad to note that her presence didn't seem to upset him, but she found it horrifying to look into those glassy eyes of his. As such, she busied herself with household errands - cooking, cleaning, and liaising with Mr Henderson and Draco's secretary. So it was that when the buzzer rang, she answered it and let Ron up, admiring his courtesy.

"I wasn't sure if I should come."

"I doubt Richard will let you see him," she whispered, leading him through the flat and gesturing for him to pull up a chair at the kitchen table.

"How is he?"

"Well, it doesn't look like he has any lasting brain damage," Asha said with a flicker of guilt, "I electrocuted him. I didn't know what else to do to get his heart going. They do it on the TV with those paddles..."

"You probably saved his life."

"Yeah," Asha shrugged, "Probably. But he's still catatonic... The doctors say it's not physical... that he's still in there, somewhere... How's Harry?"

Ron started at this, not expecting her to ask that, "He's bearing up. Somehow," his eyes dropped to his hands, "How are you?"

"I'm," she gave him a sad smile, "Bearing up."

"Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head and let the tears start to fall. He put his arm around her and pulled her head to his chest.

"What's this?" he asked and she looked sideways to see him turning Draco's old hospital band around in his fingers. She told him and he furrowed his brows at her.

The door to Draco's bedroom opened and Richard stood there, staring across the living area at them.

"What is he doing here?"

Asha sniffed and pulled herself back, "He came to see how we were."

"That's none of your business," Richard told Ron, "Get out."

"He's only trying to help."

"His help is the reason we're in this mess."

"He didn't do this, Draco's father did."

"I don't give a shit right now Ash," he turned to Ron and extended a finger towards the entrance stairs, "Get out."

Ron pocketed the wristband discretely and held up his palms, "Relax mate, I'm going."

"I'm not your 'mate'," Richard snarled.

Ron weathered it, kissed the top of Asha's head, and made his way past Richards glare. At the foot of the stairs he paused, "I didn't want this. I had to see him in that state for three long years, if I could have prevented this then I would have."

The leaky cauldron was as charming as ever: The knotted wood of the bar tables had imbibed the colour of many a spilt tankard of mead over the years; the floor was dusty, the light was dusty, the sullen cleaner mopping at the floor with a bucketful of lukewarm swill was dusty.

It had been two days since he'd been thrown out of Draco's flat, but Ron tried to push that out of his mind as he nursed his bottle of butterbeer, waiting.

Harry's eyes darted around the pub, "I shouldn't be here, she won't want me here."

"She likes you."

Harry jerked his head back toward his friend.

"She asked after you the other day," Ron clarified.

Harry remembered the sympathetic gaze Asha had given him before she'd disappeared from his ruin of a drawing room. He didn't want to let himself hope for that.

"What's this all about anyway?" Harry asked.

"I told you, I'll explain when she gets here."

Asha appeared before them in a long grey dress with heavy shadows under her eyes. If not for her lengths of unbrushed strawberry blond hair she might have blended in with the dust.

"How did you get an owl around our wards? Richard's not impressed."

"Sorry, I-" Ron started.

She clucked her tongue, taking a seat, "I said he wasn't impressed, I didn't say I wasn't."

"Confundus charm, sort of," Ron blushed, "I made it forget it was an owl."

Asha flinched, "That poor animal!"

"Only very temporarily," Ron added quickly, "She's perfectly fine now."

Asha relaxed, "Well I guess that's alright then, seeing as it was important," her eyes flickered to Harry, "I assume it was important?"

"I did something," Ron said, taking the plastic wristband out of his pocket and placing it on the table between them all.

"What?"

"I went to the hospital," Ron started, "Specifically, I went to the medical records department, and dug out-"

"You did what! Ron, those records are private, he wouldn't want you rummaging around in them!"

"Asha, calm down," Ron said.

"Well what possessed you!"

Ron bit his lip.

"I'd like to know that too," Harry said with a hard-set jaw.

"I didn't 'rummage' for a start," Ron began, "I just wanted to see if the date on this thing," he indicated the band, "Was some sort of clerical error. You said you didn't know him then, you couldn't be sure."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it doesn't make sense. Look, he's got enough reason to hate me right now, our friendship is as good as torched, I might as well do something useful while I'm waiting for him to come-to and boot me out of his life."

"Why do you assume-"

"The night I met you, isn't the night I found him."

"What are you talking about?"

Ron wrung his hands. At teeth-pulling pace he explained about the night he'd first found Draco.

"You violated his memories! He's going to kill you!"

"I'm aware of that. I didn't know what else to do, okay? I was trying to avoid the situation we're all in now. Like I said - if he's going to hate me, I might as well try to get to the bottom of this, because something happened to him back then, and I honestly believe that if he has the answers maybe he can finally start to heal. And you can keep your friend. And you can get your husband back."

"You're talking like you think there was some big conspiracy afoot. He was ill, he ran off, and that's tragic, don't get me wrong, but-"

"Harry, when did you find Draco in those woods?"

Harry frowned, "The 24th July," he said slowly, "2001."

Ron held up the band so the Harry and then Asha could inspect the matching date, "I thought that."

"How is that even possible?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged, "What's more, the paramedics found him in those same woods, in the same state you apparently found him in. According to the records, he was in hospital for weeks afterward."

"He messed up his kidneys pretty bad. They were still pretty messed up when I met him." Asha watched Ron carefully as she said this, relaxing when he paid no notice. Harry on the other hand flinched.

"I took him to Zanzibar, I healed him," Harry said, "Physically at least."

"I know you did mate, but the fact is, you and the hospital have Draco in two places at once, and you're right, that's not possible. At least, not without-"

Asha searched his face, "Not without what?"

"Nothing, it wasn't, that wasn't..."

"Well, whatever's going on, I think we'll find the answers in those woods," Asha said finally, "Will you take us Harry?"

The three of them appeared in the forest moments later. Harry pointed to a spot next to a magnificent oak tree with huge distended roots, "There," he confirmed.

Asha approached it, knelt down and placed her hand on the bark, whispering softly.

"What's she doing?" Harry asked Ron out of the corner of his mouth. Ron gave him two raised eyebrows and shrugged.

She turned to them and frowned, "The tree doesn't make any sense."

"Right..." said Ron, "What?"

"It's just spouting gibberish. They do that sometimes when they get old."

"Are you telling me the tree talks?"

"Of course not, how could it talk, it doesn't have a mouth," she looked at Ron as though he were the unhinged one in this conversation, before sitting down cross-legged on the ground and slumping her chin into her waiting hand, "Cal's better this than I am."

Harry knelt in front of her as she began to drum her fingers lightly on the side of her face in thought.

"Thank you," he said, "For helping, I mean."

She gave him a kind smile, "It feels good to be doing something useful, and I couldn't stay cooped up in that flat with Richard for another five minutes. He's a nightmare when he gets like this."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Overprotective. And I'm not exactly flavour of the month right now for letting you in the house," she said to Ron.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you in any trouble..."

She waved him off, "Don't be. And don't be angry with him either, he's scared too."

"So," Ron said, "How do we get these answers?"

"You said Cal could help didn't you? That's your brother, right? The guy I met in Hong Kong?"

"Small world huh?" Harry didn't quite understand why she sounded sad as she said that. "I said he was better than me at this, I didn't say he could help."

"Wouldn't he? If you asked him? If you explained how important it was?" Harry practically begged, oblivious to Ron's concerned expression. Asha, however, both saw and understood it.

"I wouldn't need to. If it's for Draco, he'll help. I'm just not sure I can ask that of him."

"Oh."

"He left," Asha told Ron, she hoped he'd understand at least partly why because she wasn't about to explain it in front of Harry. Harry, she noted, looked crestfallen. After a few minutes of inward debate, she finally gave in. "I'll call him."

"You will?"

"Yes, wait here," she said, and stood to walk far enough away from them that they wouldn't hear her make the call. He appeared after a few minutes of tense silence, and the pair made their way back over to Harry and Ron, who stood and brushed themselves down.

"Thanks for coming," Harry said to Cal. Ron touched his arm discretely and shook his head; Harry wondered what he'd done wrong.

"Don't mention it," Cal replied, "That one?" he asked his sister, who nodded.

He crossed to it and placed his hand on it. A long time later, when Harry had almost given it up as hopeless, Cal removed the hand and stepped back, breathing heavily. A shimmering gold substance began to trickle out, down the bark and onto the ground, where it began to pool. Eventually it stopped, leaving a misshapen, glimmering manhole on the forest floor.

"What - is that?" Ron asked, pointing at it.

"A memory," Cal said stiffly, "After you," he gestured to Harry.

"We go in there? Like a pensieve?"

"Where do you think wizards got the idea?" Asha smiled.

Inside the memory, Harry found himself on his knees. He'd forgotten the true horror of it until he saw it all again in vivid colour. Draco lay curled under the roots of that great tree, unmoving, barely breathing, blue. He realised he shouldn't have let the others see this; it was a violation of Draco's privacy. And they were appalled, he could see it on their faces and in their posture. Cal even seemed like he might be ready to throw up.

Harry arrived to the memory in a blaze of bright white light, coaxing Draco away from the nightmare and disappearing with him in his arms.

The memory was still but for a few rustling leaves and the wanderings of various bugs. They all looked at each other, uneasy, unsure what to expect next.

And then Draco was there again, curled back up beneath that tree. Not blue, Harry noticed, not half-starved, but-"

"What the fuck happened to him?" Ron asked no one in particular.

Harry knew what he saw, he'd seen it too: Draco was covered in scratches and bruises, the marks Harry had given him the night he'd vanished. But this wasn't that night; those marks hadn't happened yet.

Harry didn't have time to formulate a response; Draco had started to rouse from what might well have been a peaceful sleep. He opened his eyes, confused by his surroundings; Harry's heart wrenched as Draco called his name.

And then his face began to contort in agony. They saw his colour desert him and his body twist in pain. He began to scream, high and shrill, and there were other people, strangers, but Harry couldn't focus on them.

"Stop it! Stop it! I can't watch this, make it stop!" Harry heard himself beg before Cal grasped his shoulder and pulled him out.

They both landed in a sprawl, Harry shaking violently and Cal not faring much better. Cal stood and put some distance between himself and Harry. "I don't think he would ever have wanted any of us to see that."

"No," Harry agreed, looking sideways at Cal, wondering just how well he knew Draco.

"When we met, in Hong Kong," Cal started, "I felt for you, and I admired you."

"Thats-"

"How could you abandon him like that?"

"What? I didn't abandon him, I don't know how he got back there but it wasn't me."

"I'm not talking about that. That was clearly some trademarked magical fuck up of Draco's – he's rather good at those. How could you leave him in the first place? Anyone else, but him... how could you throw him away?"

"I didn't throw him away! I had a war to win, a world to save."

"Well that's the difference between us then isn't it? Because for him, I'd have let the whole world burn."

Harry hoisted himself to his feet, glaring intently at his accuser, "You friends? Your family? Your sister? You'd let them all die? Bullshit!"

Ron and Asha rose up out of the pool and tried to gauge the situation between them.

"Cal? Harry?" Asha said, eyeing them carefully.

"Are you telling me you're in love with my husband?"

"Anyone with half an ounce of sense would be."

"He's my-" Harry began to snarl.

"Husband. Yeah, thanks, I got the memo. I just hope you deserve the honour," Cal gave a mocking bow and turned to Asha, "I did what you asked of me."

She nodded to her feet and a heartbeat later Cal was gone, leaving stunned Harry to ponder his parting words.

"Are you sure you're alright mate?"

Harry frowned, digging his thumbnail into the edge of table in front of him, "Where they... Are they..."

Ron and Asha glanced at each other but neither answered him. Harry saw the guilt in their flushed cheeks, opting to down his third brandy rather than pry any further.

Ron was talking now, trying to steer the conversation away from this awkward impasse. He and Asha had stayed in the memory long enough to confirm what Harry had already assumed – that the strangers that had come to the aid of Draco's screams had been responsible for the paramedics and Draco's subsequent hospital stay.

"Who would do this to him?"

"Who?" Harry asked, dazed.

"Well someone must have kidnapped him," Ron replied, as though it were obvious.

Asha furrowed her brow, "Why do you assume that?"

"Didn't you see how badly beaten he was? Someone kidnapped him, beat him, dumped him back there, and cursed him."

Asha caught Harry's eye briefly and bit down on her bottom lip, "The marks on him - the scratches, the bruises... they're not relevant."

"Not relevant? He looked like he'd been bloody tortured!"

"Ron, I've seen Draco come home from what he'd consider to be a successful night out with worse than that."

"That still doesn't explain who did that to him! Why are you too looking at each other like that?"

"I did," Harry said quietly.

"What!"

"I wasn't trying to hurt him, well maybe I was, but only to prove a point," Harry grimaced.

"Prove a fucking point? Are you serious?"

Asha signed and rubbed her forehead, "Ron, Draco has a very interesting relationship with pain, and he'll have given as good as he got, so stop being so bloody judgemental, and stop thinking that it had anything to do with him disappearing because it won't have done."

"No?" Harry asked her with a twinge of hope.

"No."

Ron couldn't keep the disgust off his face, "Well what then?"

"Your brother seemed to think," Harry held in a shudder, "That he'd done it to himself."

Asha sat up straight and thought about that, "You said he was a mess when he left you?"

"In the days before, yes."

"In what way exactly?"

"One minute he was in the here and now, lucid, happy. The next he was hallucinating, he kept seeing the forest. He thought I was some kind of demon, that I couldn't be real-"

"I wonder why."

"Ron, shut up. You're saying he was in two minds, he couldn't reconcile them?"

"Yeah..."

"What if... what if his magic reconciled them for him?"

Harry squinted at her and shook his head.

"No hear me out; his mind couldn't cope with the two sets of information, so subconsciously..."

"He travelled back through time and reset his own body to a state of starvation and hypothermia? That's insane!"

"He has precedent for this kind of thing, his magic's completely unhinged. He accidentally turned himself into a hedgehog once, it took us days to talk him down from that one... And look what he did for Ron."

"He didn't turn back time though did he? He just turned back us, me and him," Ron said.

"But that's what happened isn't it? He turned himself back! I mean, not completely, he still had those marks, and I'm not saying he meant to, but..."

"That doesn't explain how he got there in the first place?"

"Travelling through space is commonplace in magical circles, who's to say travelling through time is impossible? You travelled back from the underworld... I hesitate to bring my brother back into the conversation Harry, but he knows Draco's magical issues better than any of us I think. If he thinks Draco did this then..."

Ron found himself unable to meet Draco's dead eyes as he carefully explained what had happened to him all those years ago and the secrets Ron himself had kept since finding him. The complete lack of any sort of reaction unsettled him; Draco didn't event flinch when Ron revealed that he had violated his memories.

When it was over the silence hung over him like an ominous threat, until eventually Draco turned to his side, his back to Ron, and spoke so softly that Ron had to strain to hear it.

"Just let me sleep."

A/N:

Review review review! :)

(You really want me motivated for the next chapter, Harry & Draco come face to face! Finally!)

x X x

'Rora