Hello everyone, Thank you for the reviews. We're back with Part 2. There will be a little more romance between people who are not Draco and Harry in this part

I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Some text from original book, Dumbledore's letter from original book.

Part 2- Year 6

How the Love was Tested

Chapter 1- To Be Found

Harry hadn't been able to sleep since he'd left Hogwarts for the summer. Actually, he hadn't been able to do a lot of things, but sleeping was the thing he missed the most. Usually, he was so tired that he would just fall asleep were he was, on tables, against windows, once he'd fallen asleep while cleaning the kitchen. Petunia'd had to wake him up and send him up to his room to bed. He figured he must have looked terrible if she was worried enough about him to do that. But even then, he hadn't bothered going to sleep. He was just so tired of the dreams that always seemed to accompany him when he fell asleep.

Then again it wasn't much better when he was awake. He couldn't stop himself from remembering The Department of Mysteries and the horrid prophecy that had taken up residence in his mind. The prophecy that had cost him... No, they were never meant to be in the first place. That was the thought he kept in the front of his mind. That they were never meant to be in the first place. He repeated it to himself when he felt the pain start to claw its way out of his heart and begin to hunger for the rest of his body. They were never meant to be in the first place. There was never anything either of them could have done. And yet, the prophecy still followed him around, promising him that he would never have a normal life. A prospect the rest of the wizarding world had decided to made him The Chosen One. As if being special was ever something he had wanted.

Harry had hoped that since Sirius had been cleared of his charges, he'd be allowed to go live with him, but Dumbledore said he needed to go back to the Dursley's for at least part of the summer. Something about the blood wards working to protect him. Frankly, Harry didn't much care.

He kept up with the wizarding world through the newspaper, though the news was never good. They seemed to have accepted the fact that Voldemort was back, replacing Fudge with the previous head of Aurors. A man named Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry wondered if he would truly be better than Fudge or if everyone just hoped he would.

He fiddled with the paper in front of him, sighing heavily before looking down to read it again.

Dear Harry,

If it is convenient for you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven PM to escort you to Grimmauld Place, where your Godfather wishes you to spend the remainder of your school holidays.
If you are agreeable, I shall also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope you attend on the way. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.
Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,

I am, yours most sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

He'd sent his answer immediately, reading the note probably more times than was strictly warranted. But he couldn't help himself. He wanted out of this house. He wanted to see Sirius. And, maybe, just maybe, he would see... him when he went to Grimmauld Place. He shook his head burying that thought almost as soon as it had risen up.

Suddenly, a street lamp in front of the house went out, making Harry jump. A figure was walking up to his house. He was tall with a long cloak billowing out behind him and silvery hair hanging down his back and reflecting the moon away from him. Harry's eyes widened, he hadn't really expected Dumbledore to show. Turning, Harry scooped up his trunk and banged down the stairs, arriving at the bottom just in time to hear the doorbell.

"Who in the blazes is calling at this time of night?" Vernon snapped, his voice echoing around the corner. Harry froze, realizing how he'd forgotten to warn the Durleys. He shook his head, taking one last deep breath and opened the door just as Vernon came around the corner.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "And you must be Mr. Dursley. I dare say Harry has told you I would be coming for him?"

Vernon just stood and blinked at him, his eyes wide and full of disbelief as he took in the man before him. Dumbledore was dressed in a long black traveling cloak with his usual half-moon spectacles and a pointed hat. Harry resisted the urge to wince, Dumbledore couldn't have come in anything that would have made Vernon want to explode more.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that I was coming," Dumbledore said, his voice light and cheery as if oblivious to Vernon's turmoil. "However, it's no matter, Harry, are you quite ready?"

"urh… yeah, I think," Harry answered.

"Well, then it's time for us to be off." He stepped off the porch, gesturing for Harry to follow him. "I shall send your thing to Grimmauld Place so we are not encumbered by them." He muttered, pulling out his wand. "However, I would like you to bring your invisibility cloak… just in case." Harry reached out, fumbling around in his case and pulling out his cloak. When he was done, Dumbledore waved his wand and his trunk, cage, and Hedwig vanished, then he stepped forward and began to stroll down Privet Drive as if he did this every evening. Harry scrambled after him, half wondering if Vernon was still standing on the porch gaping but too afraid to turn and look.

"Sir," Harry said. "Where are we going? You said you needed my help with something?"

"Ah," Dumbledore answered, smiling down at Harry but never breaking his stride. "The answer to that is two-fold. First, we need pick someone up."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Someone who needs to be convinced to do the right thing again," Dumbledore said cryptically. Harry wanted to say something else but he figured he wasn't going to get a straighter answer until Dumbledore felt like telling him. When they came to the end of the Drive, Dumbledore held out his left arm for Harry to grip. "You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test."

"No?"

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "You will need to take hold of my arm, then." Harry hesitated for a second and then he did. He immediately felt the world twist around him. He felt like he was being pressed in all directions, pulled and pushed and tugged in every which way. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he could only endure the horrible feeling. And then suddenly it was over. His feet slammed into the ground and gasped for air, feeling as if he'd just been forced through a very tight rubber tube.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, pressing a comforting hand between his shoulders. "The sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'm fine," he answered, standing up straight and looking around. They were in the middle of nowhere, standing in front of a giant mansion with large snakes decorating either side of the ornate gate in front of them. And suddenly, Harry had a very bad feeling about what Dumbledore had brought him to do. "Where are we, Professor?"

"We are at Malfoy Manor, Harry," Dumbledore hummed, stepping forward and pushing open the gate, oblivious to Harry's discomfort.

"But….?" Harry trailed off, hesitating outside the gate. After a moment Dumbledore turned and looked back at him, his eyes still twinkling in the moonlight.

"Come now, Harry. We haven't all night." He said, winking shrewdly. Harry swallowed nervously before walking carefully after the headmaster. They strode up the path, which was trimmed to a T and completely aesthetically pleasing. Harry hated it. It was too perfect.

Dumbledore walked right up to the door and knocked, his smile never faltering, even when he had to knock for the third time in thirty minutes. Harry shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if something was about to jump out and eat him. Or maybe that was just the absurdly loud pounding of his own heart.

"Maybe no one is home, Professor," Harry suggested, half hoping they would just be able to leave.

"Oh, I doubt that very much," Dumbledore answered, knocking again. And finally, the door did open and a house elf stuck its head out, frowning disapprovingly at them.

"You're not welcome here;" Her large bat ears flickered as she stared them down, big brown eyes never blinking. "Master Draco has forbidden you."

"Ah, but I've brought someone with me this time," Dumbledore answered. "Someone Master Draco may want to talk to?"

"Who?" The house elf asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Harry Potter."

"Hmph," she sniffed, sounding so much like her master that Harry wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh so hard he would forget how much he wanted to cry. "I doubt that."

"Why don't you ask him?" Dumbledore insisted. "Wouldn't want to assume wrong, now would you?" The house elf's eyes narrowed again, and she slammed the door, leaving Harry unsure if that was a yes or a no.

"Professor?" Harry asked quietly and yet still feeling as if his voice was much too loud in the night. "Why are we here?"

"To get Draco, of course," Dumbledore answered, his eyes never leaving the door in front of them.

"But-," Harry started, but was immediately interrupted by the opening of Malfoy Manor's front door.

"Master will see you after all," the elf said, her lip curling disdainfully. The elf pushed the door open a little wider and gestured them impatiently inside. As soon as Harry crossed the threshold, she shut the door with a sharp snap and began walking briskly down the hall. "Master Draco's waiting for you in the sitting room." She told them, her big brown eyes never leaving Dumbledore or Harry.

They followed her for several minutes, tracking across white carpet floors and ornate paintings that sneered at Harry as he passed. He kept his hands firmly tucked against his sides, almost feeling like he was in an alternate universe. Everything was so white, so clean and big. Did the Malfoy's really need a chandelier that big in their entryway? He was afraid to step on the carpet, much less touch anything. He couldn't imagine living here; no wonder Draco was so closed off and meticulous.

Finally, the elf stopped and pushed open a door for Harry and Dumbledore, glaring after them all the while. Dumbledore walking in without hesitating, but Harry stopped for a second before he followed. He felt like he was walking into some kind of death trap. He'd been avoiding thinking about Draco all summer and now Dumbledore wanted him to just walk into his house and talk to him as if everything was normal. As if Draco hadn't... No. They were never meant to be in the first place. It was no one fault. It would never have worked anyway. Harry took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

The room was about what he expected, all whites, silvers, and greens with large furniture and a large blazing fireplace. Draco was in the absolute center of the room, sitting crossed legged on a large Slytherin green couch.

"Welcome," Draco murmured, his voice low and full of hostility. His silver-grey eyes flicked between the two of them, turning on Dumbledore for half a second before landing and staying on Harry. He felt his face color. Why was he looking at him? Weren't there plenty of other things to be looking at? He frowned and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Sit. Please." Draco was leaning back, his right arm draped across the back of the couch and his face a calm emotionless mask. And yet, Harry could tell by the way his left hand's pointer finger tapped a steady rhythm on his leg, that he was anything but relaxed.

"Thank you," Dumbledore smiled easily, immediately sitting in the chair across from Draco. Which left Harry nowhere else to sit but… He hesitated, cleared his throat, and then looked up to find Draco's silver-gray eyes still focused intently on him. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Draco's gaze. He was being an idiot, this was the first time they'd seen each other since... Draco was probably just concerned about him. He knew he didn't exactly look good. There was no reason he couldn't act natural around Draco. No reason at all. He smiled at Draco and moved to sit next to him. Draco's face immediately darkened, and he turned his face away. The same way he had the night he'd...

Harry flinched. As if it wasn't enough to have to be here, to look into his silver-gray eyes and wonder if he still cared the way Harry did. Now he was remembering the one thing he promised himself he'd forget. But looking at Draco's face, the eyes cold and turned away from him, it was impossible to ignore how his usually smooth voice had sounded so broken. His grey eyes glassy as if he was about to cry—as if Draco, the Slytherin Ice Prince with no emotions- was about to cry. And Harry realized how very close he was to breaking. How close Harry was to breaking him.

"Then why….?" Harry had asked even though he already knew the answer. He'd always known the answer. They'd both always known that it would never have worked between them. He just hadn't wanted to accept it.

"I think you can't help yourself from saving people. And I think," Draco had swallowed, an unusually harsh sound from someone so graceful. Draco had accepted they wouldn't last; he had always known it. "I think that I can't watch you die."

"Why are you here?" Draco asked, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. He was still turned decidedly away from Harry, facing Dumbledore with cold silver-gray eyes. "I told you not to come back."

"I thought Harry might appreciate the opportunity to see you," Dumbledore answered. "I know it's been a while." Draco was silent for a heartbeat before he seemed to collect himself.

"I want nothing to do with The Order," He insisted. "I've told you I'm done."

"What?" Harry interrupted. Draco tensed even further, still refusing to look at him. "What do you mean you're done?"

"It's not a riddle, Potter," Draco answered, his voice frosting even further. "I mean exactly what I say. I'm done with The Dark Lord, The Order, and the war. I lost one parent to it all and I've decided it's no longer my problem."

"But-," Harry protested

"Draco," Dumbledore interrupted suddenly. "I hate to inconvenience you, but may I use your bathroom?"

"I…" Draco blinked once and then nodded, snapping his fingers loudly. "Of course." The elf that escorted them in suddenly appeared at Draco's shoulder.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Please take Headmaster Dumbledore to the bathroom," Draco told her. "And make sure he doesn't wander."

"Wizzy will make sure!" She exclaimed, glaring at Dumbledore, who stood and followed her out the door as if he hadn't a care in the world.

The door snapped shut behind Dumbledore, leaving the door in an absurdly awkward silence. Draco still refused to look at Harry, his silver-gray eyes firmly locked on the large fireplace to his left. While Harry tried not to stare and failed miserably. Draco looked skinnier than Harry remembered. Harry's eyes skimmed across Draco's body, taking in the curves and edges and ending at his face. His cheeks were gaunt and there were bags under his eyes. Harry wondered when the last time he'd slept was; probably around the same time as him.

Draco's hair was flicked behind his ears, he hadn't bothered to put gel in it, letting it hang loose. It was longer than Harry had thought, almost reaching his shoulders. His eyes flicked over Draco's nose, taking in the pointed beautiful features before landing on his eyes. His silver-grey eyes were still just as bright, and they were pointing straight at Harry.

His face flushed bright red when he realized how long he must have been staring. He dropped his eyes, swallowing nervously.

"You look terrible, Harry," Draco told him; his voice quiet with all the ice having leaked out. Harry looked back up, locking eyes with those grey eyes that could only hurt him now.

"You do, too," Harry answered.

"Yeah," Draco said, his lips curling in a hesitant smile. "I'm aware."

"Why did you leave The Order, Draco?" Harry asked, half afraid Draco would shut him down. Sure enough, Draco's face immediately darkened, and he turned his face away, the hair falling out from behind his ear to cover his face.

"I have my reasons," he said. Harry wanted to bad to reach out and touch him, to stroke his cheek and push the hair out of his face but the memory of the last time he'd tried to touch Draco still burned in his mind. His mutter call of Draco that had only been interrupted when Harry had tried to touch him. Him realizing that Draco was running away from him. Always away as if Harry was the one perpetually hurting him. And maybe he was. After all, Harry had refused to believe they wouldn't last, even then.

"No," Draco had insisted, still retreating. "I'm not you, Harry. I know I'm not. I'm selfish and I'm a coward and this is one thing I won't do." His voice grew stronger with every word and Harry knew when he walked out that door, he would never be coming back.

"But I'm in love with you." Harry said because he hadn't cared that Draco was close to breaking. He hadn't cared. He just wanted him to stay even if it meant they'd both be broken in the end.

"Harry…" Draco had answered, his voice barely loud enough to hear. He was crying; the first time Harry had ever seen him cry. In his heart, he knew it would be the last.

"And is hiding away really the best thing to do?" Harry asked, pulling himself back to the present.

"I've already told you, Harry," he turned his grey eyes on Harry. He looked tired, worn out. "I'm not you. I'm not brave and I'm not altruistic."

"And does that make you happy?" Harry asked.

"What does my happiness matter?" Draco scowled. "When has anyone ever cared about whether I was happy or not?"

"I care," Harry answered, his voice so low he thought maybe Draco couldn't hear him. He half hoped Draco wouldn't hear him.

"Right," Draco snorted. "Lot of good that did us." Harry looked away, knowing it was true. He knew Draco would still tell him that sometimes, love just isn't enough. He would still break Harry's heart into a million pieces and then walk away.

"And what does giving up do?" Harry whispered, pulling himself out of his memories with an effort. He couldn't afford to drown, not now. Not ever. They were never meant to be in the first place. They'd both known it since the beginning. Harry just hadn't wanted to accept it.

"I…" Draco trailed off, his eyes caught by Harry's. "I'm scared, Harry."

"And you think I'm not?" Harry answered. He scooted a little closer to Draco. Close enough to feel him tense when he reached out and placed a hand on top of Draco's still tapping left finger, stopping the motion. "I need you, Draco, and I have a feeling you need me too."

"Harry, I…" Draco closed his eyes, his hand clenching down around Harry's. "I- I just can't be with you. I can't."

"I'm not asking you too," Harry answered, knowing he wouldn't be able to survive asking. Just like Draco wouldn't survive telling him no again."I'm just asking you not to leave me alone again." Harry squeezed Draco's hand. Now that he had hold of Draco, though, he couldn't fathom letting go.