Chapter 21
"Now I know it's true
My every road leads to you"
Bryan Adams – I will Always Return

They arrived to a relatively quiet afternoon at the wizarding hospital. Harry felt a faint tingle like that which he'd discovered in the Ministry, suggesting this institution was also compromised, infiltrated with some unknown spell. Inwardly, he wasn't surprised and he refused to let it bother him. He was here to visit Hermione and there wasn't anything he could do about it now anyway.

Healers in bright green robes walked up and down the hallways, nodding or smiling at them. He didn't see Periwinkle, though it was still early and her shifts were usually later in the evening. They entered number 421 and saw Hermione lying there in the white sepulchre of her room.

Her face was smooth and her breath came at a constant pace. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Out. Harry stood by her bedside and watched the rise and fall of her chest, the only sign of life. The lack of sun had washed out the pink from her skin, leaving behind a parchment thin layer so delicate Harry was certain a gentle breeze could blow it away during its own leisurely passing.

Tenderly, he reached out and took her hand in his own. He was aware of Draco standing in the doorway, but the other man was quiet. Reaching out with his feelers, Harry searched for something within her, that piece of Hermione he'd felt before. He recognized that same magical shield he'd sensed previously and brushed up against it. He could feel her, just beyond… out of reach.

He huffed in frustration. "She's there. I can tell, but… I can't do anything about it," he said quietly as he traced the blue veins in her hands over and over as if trying to coax the life within them to let him past the barrier blocking his way.

A soft step behind him gave alert that Draco had finally entered the room. He felt a touch on his shoulder and he turned his head to glance at the man. Draco's expression was soft and caring and Harry felt torn between sorrow for Hermione and tenderness for Draco.

"Can I help?" he offered.

Harry pondered this, not just as some empty platitude, but really wondered if there was anything Draco could do.

"Maybe… care to lend me some of your precision again?" Harry asked, wondering if his idea would really work.

Draco nodded with a grin, grabbed Harry's free hand and interwove their fingers together. Harry smiled at the two hands; they looked so right together. When he returned his gaze to Draco's face, he saw the man's eyes were closed and he felt that same presence nudging him inside, as if someone was petting his heart. He turned back to Hermione and tried again, searching for any chink in the wall he could find.

His feelers had always been nimble, or so he had thought, but with Draco's added dexterity Harry felt like his magical sense had been exponentially improved. He touched every ridge, every crease, every pit and pock of the magical wall. He hadn't realised how imperfect physical magic could be and he thought back to a Muggle paper he'd once read saying that if a golf ball was the size of the Earth, its craters and mountains would be far more pronounced than those of the actual planet. Right now Harry felt like this shield was as rough as the bottom of the ocean, full of craters and peaks never before seen.

With this new found sensitivity, he located a way in, past the guardian of her mind and into an entirely different place.

"Hermione?" he thought out loud.

"Harry?" came the shocked reply.

"Hermione! Oh Merlin! You…"

Immediately, Harry felt smothered, like he was drowning, and he struggled to keep afloat even as he looked down at her prone body lying motionless on the bed.

"Draco!" he screamed out in his mind.

"I'm here," he heard, as if Draco were standing in his brain, calmly telling him about the weather. "Calm down, would you. It's noisy in here."

Leave it to Draco to sound snide while telepathically speaking in Harry's own mind.

Fortunately, it was distracting enough that Harry forgot his momentary fright and through his own calm, he felt that pressure lift some even as he heard Hermione mumbling incoherently, flashes of sound blending together into a cacophony of noise.

"Hermione, focus." Harry forced his words out, thinking them loudly, firmly, but without blowing them all away with the power of it.

"Harry? Where are you? Where am I?" As her mental flailing decreased, the pressure on Harry's chest dissipated.

"You are in St. Mungo's," Draco thought and Harry looked over at the man standing behind him, whose eyes were still closed and whose hand still held Harry's firmly.

"Who is that?" Hermione asked, frantic and desperate and Merlin how Harry wanted to hold her tight and tell her it was all going to be okay.

"Draco's here. We are in your room at St. Mungo's and we are here with you, Hermione," Harry said, trying to coat his words with peace, support and calming love.

There was a pause and Harry worried that they'd been pushed out, past that shield within Hermione's mind again and had lost the tenuous connection they had with her. Then she thought at them again and Harry relaxed at the controlled way she delivered her next words.

"Something happened. There was a spell that someone cast at me, so I lifted a modified Protego I'd been working on and I've been stuck ever since. I can sometimes feel magic around me, but I've been so alone. But something… buzzing… I can sometimes hear a buzz or… purring? I was going to meet with Malfoy when it happened." She stressed Draco's name, her words tinged with a question as if asking why Harry called their childhood nemesis by his given name, even if he was on their side in the war.

"Yes, we know. We're working on trying to cure you: Draco, Remus and me. Ron is doing his part, too. You're not the only person affected by the curse. However, with your shield spell up, you've been impacted differently by it."

"Oh, Harry! The curse! I have notes that…"

"Granger, we know all about your notes. We have reviewed them and know who's been cursing people and how. The problem is reversing the curse and stopping the artefact that is being used. And of course, getting you back," Draco added.

"We have so much to tell you, Hermione. Why don't we start from the beginning and then you can ask questions, okay?"

Hermione was quiet again and Harry wondered if she was still there or if she'd fallen asleep or wandered off or was just ignoring them, though he thought all of those options rather implausible. So he waited and finally she agreed to hear what they had to say. She was dually impressed they cracked her code, though Harry noticed she didn't point out that Draco already knew about it. The two men filled her in on the Quetzalcoatl Staff and what Popicon had told them. She was regaled with their exploits in Mexico, Sirius' return, and finally told what they found out from Kogelmann.

"Scrimgeour wants the Staff to control wizardkind. We're certain he has the orb portion of the Staff. Sirius has the wooden shaft of the Staff under control… somehow. There is still the feather. For all we know Scimgoeur has it, though I doubt it or he would have done something more overt."

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"Stop him," Harry said simply.

"How?" she asked.

"I'm not sure yet. But we will and we'll get you out of here and you and Ron can take a long vacation far, far away and have lots of sex and get married and live happily ever after."

He heard a soft chuckle echo through his head. "Sounds nice," she said. "I can't wait." Then a pause, and, "Well, I can wait because that's my only option."

"We'll come back, Hermione. Crookshanks is here and he's been keeping you company. And we'll come back and talk to you every day, okay?"

"Crookshanks?" Hermione said in wonder. "Oh, that must have been the purring! What a good kitty. Please, Harry. Please come back. Shut Scrimgeour down and get me the hell out of here," she said in such a firm tone that Harry dreaded her wrath if he should fail. Of course, he wouldn't.

They said their goodbyes and the two men retreated back to their own minds once again. Harry was shocked to see how many hours had passed and how drained, emotionally and physically, he felt. Crookshanks had jumped up on the bed during their conversation and was energetically kneading Hermione's leg.

"Good boy, 'shanks. Keep her company, would you."

The cat purred even louder.

"Well, I guess I should go home," Harry said reluctantly. He was exhausted, but didn't want to say goodbye to Draco after his difficult goodbye with Hermione. They'd gone through so much together in just a few short days; he didn't want to be alone.

"Harry," Draco said, his gray eyes sharp. "Would you like to stay at Rain with me tonight?"

Harry took in a sharp breath. Draco stood stiffly before him, his shoulders straight and head held high.

"Yes," he said through his suddenly dry throat.

Like a magical potion had been poured over him, Draco relaxed in a wave, first his eyes, then his shoulders and finally he smiled warmly at Harry. He held out his arm for Harry and together they Apparated away.

Harry had never been in Draco's personal rooms above Rain before, but they were as expensively and classically decorated as Harry had expected. Everything had rich colours and was constructed from dark woods or gothic iron, so different from the club below dressed in its neon blues and bright lights.

Harry felt out of his element, like he'd fallen overboard and was barely treading water. He followed Draco through his flat, watched as the man hung up his cloak, checked his messages, flipped through some letters.

"Tea?" he asked and Harry nodded dumbly.

Efficiently, Draco made them tea with a few wand flicks and some more of those odd kitchen utensils Harry'd only seen at the Weasley's. He sat on a high stool next to a central bar in the only modern room of Draco's home, complete with stainless steel and crockery hanging from the ceiling like a flock of bats. Draco sat next to him and the two sipped their tea in silence.

Harry didn't want this to be weird. He didn't want them to regret what they were about to do. He mulled it over and questioned if he wanted to go this next step with Draco. It didn't take him long to admit he did. He cherished this man and wanted to be with him and get to know him and, perhaps, even spend the rest of his days with him. He went pleasantly warm at the thought.

A future with Draco.

He began feeling awfully silly just sitting here drinking tea when a very hot bloke was sitting beside him who'd practically offered himself to Harry on a gilded platter complete with garnish.

With newly found confidence, he put down his tea and shifted his body to face Draco. Draco turned to face Harry in turn.

Harry reached out and brushed Draco's hair, barely ghosting his fingers over the fine strands, causing them to glide under his skin. Then he drew his fingers down the side of Draco's face, and Draco leaned into the touch, his eyes half-closed with a smile on his lips like a contented feline. With gentle anticipation, Harry leaned forward and kissed him.

It began as a tender dance of lips, a gentle gliding of tongues against each other, sensually hiding promises and desires. Harry snaked his arms around Draco's waist and drew him closer, wrapped him up in his grip like a precious gift. The lights within the room flickered as lust zapped along Harry's nerve endings and then burned bright as Draco bit at his bottom lip.

Harry wasn't a prude, he had his share of lovers, but he'd never been kissed with such unbridled passion and it intoxicated his mind and soul and his magic unleashed itself in delight. A crackle filled the air and Harry wasn't sure if the hairs rising on the back of arms and neck were a sign of the saturated air or just a side effect of the way Draco kindled the fire within him with just a few simple touches.

Draco pulled away, his lips glistening, his breathing uneven as he looked at Harry. Harry's own breath hitched at the sheer emotion he saw, something inconceivable. This was Draco, powerful and beautiful and his. Encased within every fiber of this man was a promise of something more, something waiting in the future, something both could live for.

He leaned forward, unable to stare into that well of emotion any longer and nibbled along Draco's shoulder, where collarbone met neck, and Draco moaned and arched into him, pressing his firm erection into Harry's own.

The lights blew out in a sparkly shower and Draco chuckled even as he pressed his lips against Harry's chin.

"What?" Harry asked, slightly embarrassed as his own lack of magical control.

"You," Draco said, his voice needy and breathless. "Come on." He grabbed Harry's wrist, pressing along the vein as if timing the racing beat of his heart, and pulled him through the halls of his flat into a bedroom dominated by a four poster bed draped in greens and blacks.

Roughly, Draco pulled Harry towards him and gripped him tight, body flush against body. He eagerly dove at Harry, kissing and nibbling, trailing his tongue along each curve and angle of his face and neck, ending with a quick peck to his crossed scars. Harry didn't realise that he'd already agreed to that promise and future as Draco led him to the edge of the bed and lifted Harry's shirt up and over, tossing it unceremoniously to the floor. He didn't realise that he'd left behind all other possibilities, closed himself away in his world of Draco, complete and utterly content.

"Merlin, you're beautiful," Draco murmured.

"You're mad," Harry said, mainly to say something, anything, as he tried to right the world that had quickly begun to spin frantically off course.

Draco stared at him, eyes wide and on fire. Harry watched as he ran his hands up his own body, gliding up his sides, over his chest to the top button of his shirt. With agonizing slowness Draco flicked open the top button. Harry's mouth went dry at the flesh peaking from behind the fabric.

Draco's fingers played around the soft fabric of his shirt, unbuttoning each button with grace and casual teasing. A smirk flitted across his lips as Harry fought a losing battle to let Draco continue his dance without interference. Struggling in a pool of frustration, Harry stepped forward, tossing one hand casually in the air, and completely disrobed Draco.

With none of the shy concern the man had shown during their time in Mexico, Draco now stood proud and welcoming as Harry practically lunged for him, the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

He took great pleasure in studying every inch of Draco, running his lips along his arms and legs, kissing his knees, lapping at nipples, licking up his inner thighs and finally resting his eyes on the man's beautiful cock. Harry's mouth watered in anticipation but as he leaned forward, Draco halted his advance.

"Harry. Naked. Now." Draco spoke each word laced with want.

Harry jumped to his feet and threw off his clothes, wanting nothing more than to press up to Draco, skin on skin, with nothing to keep them apart.

Smooth, long fingers slid across Harry's chest, brushing up against his nipples, pinching at the sensitive skin, eliciting a feral groan from Harry's throat. "Merlin, Harry," Draco gasped. "There can never be anything as beautiful as you."

Draco pulled Harry to the bed and they flopped down upon the soft duvet and kissed and made promises through hot moans and cries into the night.

"Harry, I was worried when you didn't return last night," Remus said, his gaze shifting from Harry to Draco with a knowing smirk. "But I guess you were just fine, weren't you."

They'd just arrived via Floo late that morning. Harry felt slightly abashed at not contacting Remus, but they were all adults and he decided he couldn't be arsed to care too much after the night he and Draco'd just had. He'd never been with a more passionate, loving partner, every inch of his skin an erogenous zone with a cock that could pull pleasures from Harry again and again. He wasn't sure if his equipment would be up to such play for a few days after last night, but then one look at Draco and he knew his equipment would be good and ready with but a simple glance from the man.

"Uh, yeah," Harry said as he rubbed at the back of his neck, annoyed with himself at the heat of his face. Draco merely smirked with pride.

"I was about to come looking for you, luckily you showed up," said Remus as he began fixing up breakfast. "There's a letter for you. From Popicon." Remus fanned the letter in the air over his head.

"What! Why didn't you say so?" Harry grabbed the letter from Remus and ripped it open. The other two men leaned over his shoulders and read along with him.

Dear Mr. Potter

I am pleased to inform you that the Yukon coven I had spoke with you about has agreed to speak with you about the Quetzalcoatl Staff. They are very curious about this artefact, and would like to confirm that it is the same one. Do you have more information on the item yet? Also, with a bit of convincing, I did get out of them that they do have a ritual to destroy it, though it requires the entire artefact needs be available as well as a great deal of magic. I assured them that the latter would not be a problem.

The destruction of the Staff should remove the curse from anyone affected by it as well.

Please contact me as soon as you receive this missive to report on your current status.

Yours in relic research,
Argyle Popicon

A bright grin exploded over Harry's face. "This is it! We can destroy this damned thing now. We can save Hermione and be done with this whole fucking mess!"

"Potter! Harry!"

Harry spun around to see Kingsley walking up the halls of the Ministry towards him. He'd been visiting Ron to tell him about how he could communicate with Hermione and told him what Popicon had said about the Yukon coven. Also, he wanted to get a better sense of the odd magical netting over the buildings, but had hoped he would be able to avoid his old friend.

"Kingsley, how are you?" Harry said with a false smile.

Kingsley looked at him as if he hadn't heard the empty greeting, as if something consumed every ounce of his attention. Refusing to meet his gaze, Kingsley's strong strides took him right up to Harry.

"Potter, we need to talk about your report of the Labyrinth."

Harry tried to remember the last time Kingsley had called him Potter and actually meant it. Tried to remember the last time his old friend had sounded so dead, like a hollow doll that mimicked what you spelled it to say. He couldn't find an instance, not even when Kingsley'd written Mexico on a scrap of paper for him, and Harry felt like he'd utterly failed.

"You have my report, don't you, sir?" Harry asked.

"It isn't complete. You didn't include everything in that report."

Harry searched those eyes, those eyes that deftly tried to avoid his own.

"What is it you think I didn't include?" asked Harry tentatively.

Finally, Kingsley looked at him. There was nothing but pupil in those eyes, those fearful, panicked eyes.

Failed, Harry had failed.

"Harry," Kingsley said urgently. "There had to have been more in there. More artefacts. Something… something wooden, maybe about 5 feet long, like a walking staff. Or maybe a feather, you might have mistaken it as part of a headdress and just dismissed it. Did you find a feather or a long stick? Were either destroyed in the blast?" Kingsley took a step forward and gripped Harry's robes. "Did you find either of these?" His words grew in pitch and a pit opened up in Harry's stomach as Kingsley began to shake him. "Did you? Please, Harry. Did you?!"

Harry clutched at Kingsley's hands and tore them from his clothing. "No, Kingsley. I didn't. I'm so sorry," Harry sputtered. "I'm so fucking sorry." He turned and sprinted out of the Ministry, tears streaming down his eyes.