A/n: I apologise for the lateness of this chapter; I was on vacation for twenty days and then fell ill soon after. This is the longest chapter so far, so I hope it makes up for the wait. Thank you for being patient!

IMPORTANT: I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but as you all probably know, the wonderful Chloe PR China offered to translate this story into Chinese. Another absolutely wonderful person, Cuchufleta PL, offered to translate this story into Spanish! Both links are in my bio, so do feel free to share! And lots of love to Cuchufleta PL and Chloe for doing me the honour xxxxx

Recap:

Draco's voice was so distant and strained that it broke Harry's heart. It was almost as though he was telling Harry to walk out of his life—forever.

I can't have that. Not now. I haven't even told him how I feel yet.

"Can I see you again?" Harry asked, wincing when his voice broke.

Draco glanced at him, and he must've seen the pain on Harry's face because his expression softened in the slightest. "Why don't you focus on your investigation? That's more important, after all."

Hardly, Harry wanted to say, but he knew he had to respect Draco's wishes. Now that he had confirmed his feelings, he no longer had the guts to push as hard as he had before. He was too afraid of their fragile relationship shattering into smithereens so small that they would never be able to be pieced back together again.

"I'll come see you," Harry said, taking a step back. "As soon as all of this is over and done with, I'll come see you."

Draco smiled in a way that made Harry want to rip his heart out and throw it far, far away. "Goodbye, Harry."

[December 3 2011]

Unspooling

11:19 AM

Harry paced up and down his office, unable to stay still. Every time he thought back to Draco's goodbye, a lump formed in his throat and he felt an immense need to curl up in a corner and break down. Leaning back against his desk, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the telltale wetness in the corners of his eyes.

Was I always this weak? he thought morosely with a shaky sigh. What have you done to me? he asked the image of Draco in his head, swallowing thickly when the blond only bid him farewell in response.

Shaking his head, he looked up and stared at his closed door, replaying the events that had transpired after he had returned to the office in his head.

Hermione had been standing outside his office, looking livid, and had escorted Dyers to the DMLE without so much as an explanation. Dyers had, surprisingly, followed after her meekly—Harry was contemptuous about the fact that his words had had such an impact on the prat—and hadn't put up much of a fight.

Harry knew that there had been rumours floating around that Dyers was going to lose his job ever since Hermione's promotion, and seeing as how the man had panicked and outdone his previous mistakes in a poor attempt to secure his position, Harry was quite certain that Dyers' job was on the line. The DMLE was intolerant towards idiots, and the fact that Dyers had even held his post for so long was something worth commending.

Goes to show that even arse-licking only gets you so far, Harry thought idly as he continued to stare at the door. A moment later, it opened, and Hermione stepped in. She shut it and leaned back against it with a sigh, looking exhausted.

"That bad, huh?" Harry asked as he Summoned his teapot and poured both of them cups of tea.

"I don't know what was worse: having to be the one to tell Dyers he's being let go and is being replaced by me, or having to endure his pathetic begging for another chance," she said as she flopped down on the chair beside him and waved her wand to heat her tea.

Harry remained silent as he sipped his tea, not having anything smart to comment for once, and Hermione seemed to notice. "I heard about what happened with Draco Malfoy this morning," she said after a moment, placing her cup down to look up at him.

He glanced away, tightening his grip on the handle of his teacup as he pushed back the memory of Draco's goodbye. "Yeah," was the only response he could manage, and he saw Hermione shift from the corner of his eye.

"I didn't know you were such good friends with him that you would ask him to help with such an important investigation and he would agree."

Her tone wasn't exactly accusatory, but there was a subtle iciness to it that Harry could easily identify after being friends with her for so many years. "Yeah, well," he said vaguely and sipped his cup, leaving her to bristle in her seat.

"Well?" Hermione pressed, stubborn as usual.

"What exactly do you want me to say?" Harry snapped. Anything to do with his and Draco's relationship was a very touchy subject just then, and he wasn't really in the mood to talk about it when he himself didn't know what was going to happen to them.

Hermione frowned, looking somewhat confused by his outburst. "Nothing, if you don't want to talk about it that much."

"It's not that I don't want to," he lied begrudgingly for her sake. "It's just that I don't think this is an appropriate time or place for it."

"Would it be more appropriate if I were to tell you that more people know about Dyers' appearance at Malfoy Manor than you had originally thought?"

Harry snapped his head towards her at that, scrutinising her face to see if she was telling the truth or just manipulating him into spilling his guts. Her expression was serious and her gaze was straightforward; she seemed bothered by it enough that he decided to believe that it was the whole truth.

"And the media?"

"They're going to know about it sooner than later if something drastic isn't done," Hermione said, her voice grave.

Harry half-turned so he was facing her and asked, "Drastic like what?"

"Well, I'm sure you're aware of the general procedure all Ministry employees in high enough posts have to go through after their dismissal," she said in a way that suggested that Harry had to read between the lines.

Harry did, in fact, know more than just the general procedure. Considering that the Ministry of Magic was the highest governing body in all of magical Britain, certain preemptive measures were put in place in the years since its founding in order to filter the amount of crucial information that left the Ministry. The higher up on the ladder you were, the less likely you were to be let go—unless, of course, you did something outrageous—which, in turn, meant that you were privy to more information about the inner workings of the Ministry than your subordinates.

That's why people who held the highest posts were always sworn into their positions and were rarely ever fired or quit; and when they chose to retire, they voluntarily took on an Unbreakable Vow to never reveal the Ministry's secrets to the general population.

Of course, that meant that the moment someone was dishonourably discharged, they would, more likely than not, hold a grudge against the Ministry and would be the most likely to spill all its secrets to the world. In order to counter this, a special task force within Human Resources was specifically trained in manipulating the Memory Charm in order to counter any means of information leakage.

The reason the media and certain activists or organisations, whose main aim was to uncover the dirty and "unjust" practices going on within the Ministry, were unable to get substantial proof that the Ministry was manipulating its employees' memories for its own benefit was because of how skilled the task force was. They used very specific keywords while casting the charm, thus leaving the vast majority of the person's memories untouched. It was only when particular words pertaining to specific information were triggered that the person would have a temporary, almost unnoticeable, lapse in memory. The fact that there weren't that many cases of people in high posts being dismissed further stymied the organisations' attempt to expose the Ministry.

Of course, it was only because of Harry's position that he even knew any of this, and he knew that if he ever was dismissed in the same way Dyers was, he would go through the same process as well.

None of that gave Harry a clear idea of what Hermione was getting at, however, and he stared at her for a long moment, trying to decipher the hidden implication in her words, until she sighed and shook her head in defeat.

"Really, must I spell everything out for you?" she said as she pushed her teacup away and got to her feet. Stepping sideways so their shoulders were brushing against each other, she leaned against the desk and stared at the door much like he had been doing. "You know that Dyers is going to go through the same procedure, right?"

"Right."

"And only very specific information is going to be blocked from his memory?"

Harry had the urge to ask Hermione how she knew so much about stuff she wasn't supposed to know about but then realised it was pointless. It's Hermione, after all. She makes it her business to know everything about everything.

So he just nodded in response, and she shot him a look. "And Dyers is the one who created the whole Malfoy fiasco."

Harry frowned as he tried hard to connect the dots. Was she trying to say that erasing Dyers' memory of the event at Malfoy Manor was the 'drastic measure' that was required to stop any more people, especially the media, from finding out about it?

"But the task force wouldn't know—or care, even if they do know—about what happened to erase it from his memory," Harry said, and from the way Hermione turned away, he knew he had just stated the obvious. "In fact, I'm sure the higher-ups would gladly allow Draco's alleged theft of the Dark artefacts to take the limelight so as to not bring notice to Dyers' dismissal."

"Exactly," Hermione said, further confusing Harry. "After all, the special force only takes orders from very specific people." She straightened up and stepped forward, turning around to face Harry. They scrutinised each other for a long moment, Hermione's expression never giving away what was going on in her head. She was looking at him as though she was deciding whether or not to say anything more, and her hesitation made Harry wonder if she was acting on someone else's orders and not of her own volition.

"How much do you value your friendship with Malfoy?" she finally asked, and it took Harry a minute to understand what she meant.

Realisation hit him like a ton of bricks and he eyed at Hermione breathlessly for a moment, stunned and unnerved that she would even suggest something so… unscrupulous. "Who put you up to this?" he asked her, thinking that the Hermione he knew would never have come up with that thought on her own—at least, he hoped so.

She shrugged. "I was told to handle this situation with Dyers, and as this Malfoy fiasco is a part of it as well, I decided to come and talk to you about it." He could tell she wasn't telling him the whole truth, but before he could say anything more, she added, "What you take away from this conversation is wholly up to you."

They stared at each other for a minute, neither speaking until Hermione finally looked away. She eyed the door for a moment longer before saying again, "How much do you value your friendship with Malfoy?"

She turned to look at him, a strange expression on her face, much like the one Zabini had worn before he insinuated Harry and Draco's relationship. Harry just continued to watch her without answering, knowing the question was more rhetorical than inquisitive. Proving his presumption to be correct, she spun on her heel and walked to the door. She only paused to say, "Dyers has already been given the pink slip. He's packing up his desk. He should leave for good by the end of the day," before leaving the office.

Harry stared at the closed door for a long time, his heart racing in his chest. He placed a hand against his forehead, staring at the carpeted floor as he replayed the conversation in his head. He couldn't think of any other alternative for her implications, and the way she had just come and gone, it was clear that whatever Harry chose to make of her words would lead to consequences she wanted no part of.

Raising his head slowly, he dropped his arm to his side and inhaled through his mouth, Hermione's final question resonating in his mind.

"How much do you value your friendship with Malfoy?"

More than I care to admit, he thought, unsurprised by how quickly he had reached a decision. He faltered for a moment, but when Draco's goodbye flickered into his thoughts yet again, he gritted his teeth and strode to the door, determined.

As he made his way to the task force's headquarters, hidden away from prying eyes, the underlying meaning in Hermione's question echoed through his head.

"How far are you willing to go for Malfoy's sake?"

4:47 PM

Harry stood at the window behind his desk, looking at the enchanted view of a field as he idly picked at his lower lip. He had just returned from speaking with the wizard who was in charge of overseeing Dyers' discharge and had made sure to pass on his own additions to the usual list of keywords. The man had eyed him dubiously but had agreed to see to it that the job was done, nonetheless.

Not like he has a choice, Harry thought to himself. It was a direct order from the Head Auror; disobeying it had more dire consequences than doing what was asked. That was just how things had always worked, Harry knew. If there was one thing Harry found relief in, however, it was that those who were involved in controversial jobs generally tended not to ask questions and just did as they were told.

He eyed the clock on the mantle, restless. Someone had informed him about three-quarters of an hour ago that Dyers' discharge was already underway, and he was waiting impatiently for news that the deed had been done.

When there were three sharp raps on the door, Harry straightened up with bated breath as his deputy stepped in and walked up to Harry's desk. Buxley tossed a folder onto it, and Harry reached forward to pick it up and flip it open. He read the report quickly and looked up at Buxley, eyebrows raised.

"So you're telling me that despite all your interrogation skills, you still weren't able to glean any useable information?"

Buxley ground his teeth together, his frustration evident. "That's not what it says, is it?"

"Says here that we still don't know who the one pulling the strings from the shadows is."

"Only because those small fry themselves have no idea who their leader is," Buxley snapped. "They're nothing more than disposable pawns, not even part of the hierarchy within this cult."

Harry flipped the pages of the report, mulling over the information at hand. "We should've anticipated as much," he muttered with a sigh. "This was typical of many of the Dark organisations and groups we disbanded; you and I both know that quite a few of the leaders were never arrested because there wasn't enough evidence to prosecute them."

Buxley grunted. "So what do you suggest we do?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, tossing the file back on the desk.

"Pardon?"

Harry ruffled his hair with a sigh and flopped down in his chair. "Like you said, these guys know nothing. They're not of any use to us whatsoever. And I'm sure the anti-poison should wear off anytime soon." When Buxley nodded, Harry continued. "We've run out of options on our end. I don't see the point in chasing ghosts. We've done enough of that for the past few months. We know that whoever is behind this isn't going to make any obvious moves anytime soon because of what happened. Setting aside the fact that these pawns could be replaceable, they've still lost a considerable amount of manpower. And we have all the Dark artefacts they worked so hard on collecting in our hands. They're definitely going to take a step back and regroup before coming at us again."

"So we just wait for more news from Rogers' group, then?" Buxley asked, catching on fast, as usual.

Harry nodded. "That's our only option, right now." He tapped the folder on the desk and leaned back in his seat. "Inform Rogers that his priority should be recovering the artefacts and not capturing the thieves."

Buxley picked up the folder with a thoughtful hum. "What if we put a tracker on those idiots and let them escape?"

"Perfect," Harry said with a grin.

His deputy nodded and began to make his way out when Harry stopped him. "By the way, Buxley…"

"Yeah, boss?"

"What news on Dyers?"

Buxley's expression changed to one of disgust as he grunted and ruffled his greying hair. "That fellow was more trouble than he was worth."

"And?"

Buxley dropped his arm with a sigh and shrugged a shoulder. "And he's out of our hair for good, now."

Harry nodded, swallowing back a sigh of relief.

"Anything else, boss?"

"No. Thanks, Buxley."

The man nodded and left the office, shutting the door behind him.

Harry ran his hands down his face, groaning, and debated about what he was going to do next. He squinted at the fireplace; it was beckoning to him, and it was taking all of his willpower to remain seated in his chair.

You said you would only go once everything was over and done with, his conscience reminded him.

But everything is over and done with, he argued back. Dyers is gone, his memories along with him, and the case has been put on hold.

What about Rogers?

Buxley's there to take care of things. I'll only be gone for a little while, and they'll call me if they need me.

It's not right for you to disappear at such a crucial time for personal reasons that can wait.

Oh, shut up, he told his conscience.

Snatching a memo and his quill, he quickly scribbled a note before folding it and tossing it towards the door. It lingered until Harry went and opened the door before zooming out to its recipient. He then strode over to the fireplace and grabbed a fistful of Floo Powder. He hesitated briefly, debating if it was a terrible idea after all, but his need to see Draco overpowered his fear of what would happen. Muttering, "Screw it," he tossed the powder in.

As the green flames settled, Harry stepped in and inhaled deeply. "Draco Malfoy's office, Antares."

The flames engulfed him, and he shut his eyes, replaying the whole speech he had prepared to give Draco in his mind. The moment he felt solid ground beneath his feet, he opened his eyes and was halfway out of the fireplace when he heard Zabini yelling.

"—this goes on, then I'm walking out of here and you'll never see me again! The choice is yours, and I swear, Draco, if you mess things up again, I'm not going to fix it for you. Have I made myself clear?"

Zabini's back was to Harry so he hadn't noticed him yet, but as Draco opened his mouth to reply, his gaze shifted and landed on Harry. His eyes widened, and before Harry could step back into the fireplace, Zabini whipped around, a murderous expression on his face.

"You!" he hissed, storming over to Harry and jabbing him in the chest with a finger. "This is all your fault!"

"Blaise!" Draco exclaimed, coming to stand in-between the two men. "Stop it!" he said to his raging friend before turning to Harry. "Why are you here?" he snapped, his tone harsh, and Harry winced.

"Sorry, I just—I'll leave," he said, backing away to the Floo.

"You do that," Zabini said.

"That's enough," Draco told Zabini, his voice strained. "Don't take your anger out on Harry; your beef is with me."

"My beef was always with you," Zabini spat. "But then he had to come and make everything exponentially worse!"

"You're being melodramatic," Draco said, his voice low. Then, turning to Harry, he motioned to the Floo. "Would you please leave for now?"

Harry nodded and took a fistful of Floo powder, his heart racing in his chest and his face flushed. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but it was fairly clear that it had something to do with him.

"Before you leave," Zabini said, interrupting Harry's confused thoughts, "I have something I want to ask you."

"Blaise—"

"Shut up, Draco." Zabini eyed Harry, his dislike for him clear on his face. "What are you to Draco?"

"Excuse me?" Harry said, his grip on the Floo powder tightening as his heart thundered away in his chest.

"You heard me," Zabini growled and pointed at the blond. "What is your relationship with this man?"

"We're friends," Harry said without hesitation. Then, glancing towards Draco, he added softly, "I hope."

Draco's expression softened and he looked almost apologetic, but Zabini didn't seem satisfied. "Are you really?" he asked, taking a step towards Harry. "Because from what I've seen, you seem to have more ulterior motives for befriending Draco."

Harry frowned. "What exactly are you getting at, Zabini?"

"You know exactly what I'm getting at," Zabini said through gritted teeth. "Isn't it convenient that Draco's always here to solve all your problems when you need him?"

"Blaise!" Draco exclaimed again, his expression furious. "Stop with this nonsense! I won't have you accusing my friends of things they've never done!"

"You say that now, but I'm sure you've had the same thought before," Zabini said to Draco.

The blond opened his mouth but seemed unable to retort. Zabini turned back to Harry, apparently satisfied that he had rendered Draco momentarily speechless. "Well?"

"Look," Harry said, glancing between the two men. "I don't know what's going on between you both, and I obviously came at a wrong time, but whatever it is, I don't want to be dragged into it." He took another step towards the fireplace. "I'll leave you two to sort things out between yourselves."

As Harry tossed the green powder into the fireplace, focusing all of his energy on not losing it, he heard Zabini mutter, "Would you look at that? He can't even argue because it's the truth."

Harry spun around and grabbed Zabini by the front of his shirt, a wave of anger momentarily overpowering common sense. Who the hell are you to stand here, judging us and passing comments on our relationship? Harry wanted to demand, but, instead, he said, "The reason I'm not defending myself is because it is true. Draco has been an unbelievable help, and I cannot even begin to thank him for all he's done for me. But I won't have you belittle our relationship just because you disapprove of it."

Zabini pushed Harry away and straightened his collar, scoffing in disgust. "And what have you done for him in return besides getting him into endless trouble?"

Harry clenched his fists and bit his tongue, knowing that anything he said would only make him look worse. After all, it is the truth, isn't it? his mind supplied helpfully.

Draco came to stand in front of Harry and put a hand on Blaise's shoulder as he said, "Thank you for your concern, but everything I did, I did of my own volition. Harry didn't force me or coerce me into any of it."

"He didn't have to, did he?" Zabini spat, shrugging Draco's hand off. "After all, you've always been smitten with Wonder Boy here, haven't you?" When Draco only went rigid in response, Zabini smirked in contempt. "Who would've thought that you would never grow out of it?" He looked at Harry over Draco's shoulder and said, "Don't you think that's utterly sad and pathetic?"

Before Harry could react, Draco said in an almost inaudible voice, "Get out."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Get out. Now."

Blaise's expression grew dark and he barked out a harsh laugh. "Really? You're kicking me out?"

When the blond didn't respond, Blaise just scoffed and strode over to the fireplace, hitting Harry's shoulder with his along the way. He stepped into the already ignited flames and said bitterly, "I see now where your loyalties lie. Don't come crying to me later on, when it turns out I was right."

Harry watched as the flames engulfed Zabini, and he disappeared, leaving the two men in painfully awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," both men said simultaneously, and Draco let out a short laugh.

"That one was on me. You have nothing to apologise for."

"But I do," Harry said, reaching out a hand. When Draco flinched away, Harry swallowed thickly and said, "I'm so sorry for this morning. I promise you that nothing of that sort will ever happen again as long as I can help it."

"I know," Draco replied with a small smile, although he didn't meet Harry's eyes. "Like I said before, I know you aren't at fault for what happened, and I can see that you're really beating yourself up about it. I was upset when it happened, but I'm not so much, now."

"So… you forgive me?"

Draco chuckled, swiping a hand across his tired-looking eyes. "I do."

Harry sighed in relief, feeling like a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

They stood in awkward silence for a moment longer, and Harry realised that Draco was looking everywhere but at him. For some reason, it bothered him terribly.

"You won't look at me," he murmured, stepping closer to the blond. Draco took half a step backwards, his gaze focused on the side. "Draco," Harry said, taking a hold of the blond's arms and squeezing gently. "Look at me."

Draco inhaled deeply and hesitated for a moment before finally raising his eyes to meet Harry's. Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat before cracking a small smile. "That's better."

Draco laughed weakly and dropped his gaze again as he placed his hands against Harry's chest, pushing against him gently, but Harry wasn't going to give in. After all the emotional turmoil he had been through in the past day, he wasn't willing to return without doing what he had come to do.

"I lied," he said, causing the blond to look up, "when I said you and I were friends."

"I—I don't underst—"

"I love you, Draco."

Harry watched as the blond's eyes went round, his mouth fell open, and his cheeks coloured. "Wh—Wha—" he stammered, and Harry cracked a smile.

"I realised it the other day, when I left from here. But I think, maybe, that I've always felt this way to some level from even before."

"Wa—Wait," Draco said, straining against Harry's hold. "This—I don't—"

"I know this is rather selfish of me," Harry murmured, pulling the blond even closer. He looked deep into those glistening eyes like liquid silver that he had come to love and said, "But I'm in love with you, Draco. Madly, uncontrollably, terribly in love with you."

Draco half-sighed, half-groaned, his eyelashes fluttering and his breathing shallow as he processed Harry's words. His lips were parted as he stammered incomprehensibly, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle softly as he leaned in and captured Draco's lips.

The kiss was sweet, tender, and lingering, much like their first one had been, and Harry had learnt that it was the simplest way to convey his feelings to the blond. Draco sighed against Harry's lips and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Harry wound his arms around the blond's waist, belatedly thinking how slim he was, and Draco reciprocated by reaching up and cupping Harry's face in his hands. His palms were cool against Harry's flushed cheeks, and Harry sighed softly as they pulled apart.

Draco was staring at Harry with wide, shimmering eyes, wet, pink lips, and a stunned expression, and Harry found him to be so adorable in that moment that he head to lean in for another kiss. The blond didn't resist; he slipped his hands around Harry neck and curled his fingers in Harry's hair, eliciting a soft groan from the latter.

Harry could sense that things were quickly going from soft and sweet to passionate and hungry, and he hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to allow things to progress any further. Before he could come to a decision, however, he heard the familiar gushing sound of the Floo, and Draco pulled away, his face going pale. He shoved Harry away, swiping his sleeve across his mouth—much to Harry's chagrin—and stared wide-eyed over Harry's shoulder.

Harry was much too afraid to turn to see who had arrived, although he had an idea about who it could be. As he remained frozen on the spot, watching Draco flounder, Zabini's cold voice said from behind him, "I regret deciding to come back for my coat."

Unable to take Draco's stricken expression of mortification any longer, he slowly turned on his heel, watching as Zabini grabbed his coat off the back of an armchair and strode over to the fireplace. Zabini paused and, without looking at either of them, said, "It seems I was the only one who didn't receive the memo."

Harry blinked, confused, and Zabini finally looked over his shoulder, his lips curled in disgust and his expression one of absolute revulsion. "The memo that says it's perfectly alright for two married men with families, who claim to be nothing more than friends, to be embraced in a passionate snog."

Before Harry could even think of something to say in reply, Zabini turned his gaze to Draco, his expression changing to one of utter disappointment, and he said, almost sadly, "I never once thought giving her to you was a mistake, despite everything. Until now. You disappoint me, Draco."

With that, and the whoosh of the Floo, Zabini was gone.

Harry swallowed thickly, knowing that if he said anything, or even moved, Draco would ask him to leave. So he remained frozen on the spot until Draco shuffled over to the sofa and flopped down on it. He leaned his head back, palms covering his face, and remained unmoving.

Although he was unsure of whether or not the blond wanted him to leave him to his misery, Harry refused to leave Draco alone when he seemed so vulnerable. He wasn't sure what or who Zabini had been talking about in the end, but whatever it was, it had obviously struck a heavy blow to Draco.

"I'll leave, if that's what you really want," Harry said gently as he came to sit beside the blond. "But I'm hoping I can offer you some comfort, at the very least." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Take this as me trying to repay you for all that you've done for me, if you will."

That apparently worked, because Draco peeked over his fingers at Harry, as though considering if he should believe Harry or not, and then let his arms fall to his side with a deep sigh. He stared up at the ceiling, looking thoroughly exhausted, and Harry had the urge to take him in his arms and hug him until he felt better.

Of course, he didn't do that, because it was clear that that wasn't what Draco needed just then, so Harry remained silent and unmoving, as did Draco, for what seemed like an eternity. When Harry began to wonder if he should say something, the blond finally opened his mouth, and Harry's heart began to race.

"You…" Draco's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat and began again. "You're probably wondering what Blaise was yelling about," he said, and Harry remained silent, waiting for the blond to continue. Draco finally turned to look at Harry and said, "A reporter apparently approached him at his conference this afternoon, asking for his comment on the rumour that the Ministry still suspected that I was hiding Dark artefacts in Malfoy Manor."

Harry nodded, his mind running a mile a minute, and Draco pushed himself upright as he continued. "Blaise, of course, had no idea what she was going on about because I hadn't told him about what had happened." A wave of guilt hit Harry hard as the morning's events replayed in his mind, but he pushed it aside and focused on what Draco was saying. "So he gave her a piece of his mind on what he thought about reporters who would rather gossip about rumours that were completely untrue over more important things."

Of course he did, Harry thought with a scoff.

"Although he had told the reporter off, considering the rumours had been followed up on before, Blaise came straight to me, demanding why people were trying to dredge up things from the past for no apparent reason. Of course, I had to then explain what had happened—rest assured I made it clear that you had nothing to do with it, although Blaise seemed to believe otherwise—and he was furious. He kept going on and on about how I should cut all ties with you and that I hadn't learnt a single thing from our years at Hogwarts and how you were nothing but trouble…" Draco trailed off with a sigh and shook his head.

"That argument went on for quite some time until he brought up our…" Draco made a vague gesture with his hand, "…relationship.

"What did he say?" Harry asked, despite himself.

Draco didn't answer immediately, causing Harry to jump to the worst conclusions, and when the blond finally said, "Pretty much what you think he said," it only made Harry feel that much worse.

Deciding that he didn't want to go down that path since Zabini's words were still fresh in his mind, Harry kept quiet and waited for Draco to continue.

After a time, the blond said, "Well, he hadn't been lecturing me for all that long when you arrived."

"Sorry 'bout that," Harry said, grimacing when he recalled what had happened.

Draco waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm actually glad you came. Merlin knows how long he would've gone on for otherwise." He laughed, but it sounded forced, and he lapsed back into silence after a moment.

"What—What did he mean at the very end?" Harry asked, despite knowing that Draco probably didn't want to talk about it.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, fiddling with his cuff link, and Harry shook his head.

"No, never mind," he said, not wanting to force the blond into talking about something he didn't want to. It was frustrating that Draco knew so much about Harry while Harry could barely say the same about the blond, but he didn't want to push his luck—especially just then.

Feeling Draco's gaze on him, Harry looked up, and the blond immediately looked away. Harry bit back a sigh, wondering what to do, when Draco began to speak.

"I…I've never told anyone this story—not even Astoria—and you probably have to get back to work—"

"No," Harry said quickly, despite the fact that he did need to get back to the office. But the fact that Draco was opening up to him overweighed any investigation or whatever, and Harry belatedly wondered if it was alright to prioritise the blond to that extent. He quickly pushed that thought aside as he said, "No, tell me."

Draco hesitated and then sighed in a way that made Harry feel like he was imposing on the blond, and then said, "You probably know this because it was all over the news, but, right after the war, Blaise and Daphne Greengrass, Astoria's sister, got engaged. It was more political than anything; both the Greengrasses and Gisella—Blaise's mother—wanted to use the other's name, status and image to safeguard themselves from the media and the public's scrutiny."

"Of course, no one had expected that Blaise and Daphne would hit it off so well. They both have similar personalities and shared interests, so it didn't take long for them to become the best of friends." Draco shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "Blaise adored Daphne and wouldn't stop talking about her whenever he and I met. She was good for him, that much anybody could see. Whether consciously or not, they both relied on each other to heal their wounds, and it was having a positive effect on them, as well as their families.

"So, one fine day, after Blaise's continued insistence on me meeting Daphne, I agreed. Little had I known then that Blaise and Daphne had set it up so Astoria and I would meet with the intention of us getting together. Astoria was a very shy, soft-spoken, well-mannered girl, and she somehow had a soothing aura around her that—till today—relaxed me. It was only later that Blaise told me that he and Astoria were good friends because of how much time he spent at the Greengrass mansion, and that she had confessed that she had been smitten with me since the time we were in Hogwarts."

Draco sighed and shook his head again, the nostalgic smile having been replaced by a sad frown. "Back then… all I did was wallow in self-hatred and pity. So when Astoria came along to shower me with her kindness and affection, I clung onto her empathy with all my might, like my life depended on it. I was so selfish, Harry," he muttered, hanging his head. "All I thought about was myself and my mistakes and my stupid choices and if I could ever redeem myself. I had fallen so deep in my self-loathing and depression that I didn't acknowledge anything or anybody else. I just lived every day like it was my last, hoping that I would disappear in some tragic accident because I was too much of a coward to end my own life."

He laughed shakily, and Harry swallowed, stunned by how real and relatable Draco's experiences were. It reinforced the fact that he was indeed human, just like Harry was, and hammered in the fact that he had always seen the blond as Draco Malfoy, the arrogant, seemingly unconquerable nemesis of his, in much the same way the rest of the wizarding world had seen Harry as the Boy Who Lived, who was indestructible and the vanquisher of all evil. Yet the reality of the situation was the exact opposite. They were just two ordinary wizards whose lives were interconnected by some twist of fate, or coincidence, or destiny, or whatever one wanted to call it.

Yet the reality of the situation was the exact opposite. They were just two ordinary wizards whose lives were interconnected by some twist of fate, or coincidence, or destiny, or whatever one wanted to call it.

"Despite that, Astoria was always there, by my side," Draco continued, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. "She never once gave up on me, even in the worst of times." He looked up then, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears and his expression so raw that it physically hurt Harry. "She saved me, Harry. She saved me when nobody else would; when I thought that I deserved to rot away in a rank prison cell for everything I had done. I mean, who does that?" he said, laughing shakily again. "How can you have so much faith and trust and believe in someone who had wronged so many people his whole life?" He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face with his hands to dry his eyes.

"Astoria was the one who encouraged me to pursue my dream to become a Mind Healer," he continued with a sniff. "When I told her that I didn't have the right after everything I had done, she yelled at me and told me to get over myself. She told me that if I really did want to redeem myself, then helping people through similar situations was the best form of repentance than anything. She helped me slowly but surely get back on my feet and work towards my goal, always standing behind me to support me when I was about to fall back down.

"Finally, once I had cleared my head of thoughts of suicide and whatnot, I went about contacting my friends with the intention of re-establishing relationships I had completely shut myself away from. Again, this was all thanks to Astoria—and Blaise, who, now that I think about it, would probably have given up on me ages ago if not for Astoria." He sat back and turned to Harry, the soft light from the incandescent lamps dancing in the back of his eyes. "I started meeting Blaise more often. Since Daphne was away, pursuing her further studies, it was almost always the three of us, Blaise, Astoria and I, who spent time together.

"It was then that I started to notice the changes in Blaise." Draco's eyes darkened when he turned his head away in the slightest and the light previously illuminating them disappeared. "It would have been fairly obvious, if I had paid more attention before. Whenever he was around Astoria, his demeanour would change. He laughed more openly, his comments were light and joking rather than blunt and sarcastic like they usually are, he paid close attention to whatever she said and did, hanging onto her every word like he would suffer grave consequences if he missed even the smallest detail. And the way he looked at her…"

Draco shook his head and placed a hand on his face, almost shamefully. "Anybody would've seen it, even if they spent a quarter of an hour with the two of them." He looked up at Harry, a myriad of emotions swimming in his grey eyes. "Blaise was so in love with Astoria that it hurt to see the way his gaze followed her around, almost reverently. I don't think he had even realised it himself, at that point, and being the coward that I was, I was afraid to confront him about it, lest I lose the two people whom I considered the most important to me."

He shrugged a shoulder, as though the matter never concerned him to begin with. "So I ignored it. I pretended like it didn't bother me how much time the two of them spent together; I pretended I didn't notice how his touch lingered more than it should; I pretended I wasn't bothered by the fact that the woman I was engaged to was more comfortable going to my so-called best friend for advice than me." Draco had a far-off look in his eyes, like he was re-living all those painful moments again as he continued to speak. "But I could only look away and pretend like his feelings for her weren't suffocating me. And I did so, for so long. But before I had the chance to confront him, though, Daphne returned, and the moment he saw her sister and her fiancee together, she broke.

"She demanded an explanation from him, and he unashamedly confessed his love for Astoria, saying that he cared deeply for Daphne, but that it was more a platonic love than a romatic one. Once Daphne had calmed down, Blaise asked her to break off their engagement, convincing her that her feelings for him were that of a younger brother than a lover, and her anger was only because she felt betrayed, not because she was in love with him." Draco sighed. "I didn't know any of this had happened until Blaise came to me and told me that his and Daphne's engagement had gone up in flames and that she was apparently moving to Egypt to pursue the man of her dreams. I gave him my sympathies, as was expected of me, and he started to pressurise me into marrying Astoria before either of us had a change of heart."

Draco paused then, for so long that Harry had to ask a question to get him to speak again. "Did you? Get married, I mean?"

Draco chuckled. "Well, obviously."

Harry flushed, embarrassed. "That's not what I meant."

"I know," Draco said, shooting him a small smile. "When Blaise's pestering got out of hand, I finally confronted him about his feelings for Astoria and if that was why he was pressurising me into marrying her."

"Was it?"

Draco nodded. "He confessed that he was in love with her, but promised that he would never let her know or act on it, being the loyal friend that he was, because she was my fiance. And you know what I did?"

Harry swallowed thickly, realising there was no point in stalling since Draco's Pandora's Box was already open and all his deepest, darkest secrets were spilling out. "What?"

Draco smiled, although it looked more like a pained grimace, and said, "I did the worst possible thing a friend could do. Despite knowing how Blaise felt for her, and having an inkling of a doubt that Astoria probably felt the same way for him to an extent, even if she refused to admit it, and knowing that they would be so happy together, I did what Blaise said I should." He inhaled deeply and sighed, a forlorn expression on his face. "I married her."

Harry shook his head slowly, knowing that even if he didn't say anything, Draco fully understood how terrible what he had done was.

"I told you, I'm a selfish man. She was my life line; the anchor that kept me grounded and the life preserver that kept me afloat. Without her altruistic nature and her unconditional support, I knew I wouldn't last very long. I needed her, more than I had needed anything my entire life, and in a moment of utter desperation and unwillingness to lose her, I made sure that Blaise would never be able to take her away from me."

"Did," Harry began, hesitant, "Did Zabini ever find out?" From what Zabini had said, Harry felt like he must have found out. Otherwise, why would he have made a statement like that?

Draco bowed his head, watching his clasped hands as he played with his fingernails. "I told him about it—in a letter, of course, because that was how much of a pathetic coward I was."

Harry remained silent for a long time, processing everything Draco had told him. After a while, Draco looked up, a beseeching expression on his face. "You must think me the worst sort of person, don't you?"

"No, not the worst sort, but close," Harry replied honestly, because that was pretty much what was going on in his mind just then. Draco laughed, sounding tired, and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

"Well, at least you were honest about it."

"You were, too. Although that doesn't justify what you did, it makes you less of an arsehole, I suppose."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough."

After a time of watching the blond sit with his head bowed, Harry asked, "Did you love her?"

"Very much," Draco replied immediately, much to Harry's relief. "And I still do; dearly." When he looked up to meet Harry's eyes, it was almost as though he knew what Harry was going to say next.

"Were you in love with her?"

Draco smiled, a sad, pained smile that showed how much the question hurt him. "No, not in the way you're thinking."

Harry inhaled deeply. "Were you ever in love with her?"

Draco laughed again, but it sounded like a sob, and he hung his head. He didn't answer for so long that Harry thought he wouldn't at all, until he looked up, his eyes the usual, glittering silver.

"Not in the way I'm in love with you, no."

Harry's breath caught in his throat and his heart began to beat a mile a minute. Common sense flew out the window, and he leaned forward, cursing under his breath as he grabbed Draco by the back of his neck and pulled the blond towards him, crashing their lips together.

Draco reacted instantaneously by wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and pulling him closer. Harry tightened his grip on Draco's neck and the blond gasped, allowing Harry to slip his tongue into the blond's mouth. A tongue war then ensued, intertwining, pulling away, clashing against each other. Draco raked his nails up Harry's back, sending a shiver down the later's spine, and in a moment of dominance, Harry grabbed the blond around his waist and pulled him onto his lap, toppling both of them onto the sofa.

Draco gasped again, unable to push himself up because his limbs were intertwined with Harry's, so they just remained as they were, awkwardly sprawled across the sofa, faces inches apart, breath mingling together as they panted, staring deep into each other's eyes as countless thoughts swam through their minds.

"Say it again," Harry said breathlessly, pulling his hand from under Draco's neck to caress his cheek and rub his thumb across the blond's lower lip.

Draco didn't even need a second to figure out what Harry was talking about as he said softly, "I'm in love with you, Harry Potter. Happy now?"

"Unbelievably," Harry whispered as he kissed Draco again, long and slow, forgetting everything that was happening: his woes and worries, his job, the investigation, his family, Draco's family, what Zabini had said, Draco's heart-felt confession—everything.

He pulled away and nestled his head in the crook of Draco's neck, sighing when the blond ran cool fingers through his hair. "What have you done to me?" he muttered against Draco's skin, feeling the blond tremble beneath him as he chuckled.

"Only what you've done to me for so, so long."

His impulsiveness still going strong, Harry bit down on the supple skin of Draco's neck, hard, causing the blond to cry out in surprise, and sucked on the spot for a moment before placing a kiss on it.

"You git!" Draco exclaimed, smacking him atop the head. "That's going to leave a mark!"

"Not my fault you're so pale," Harry replied with a cheeky grin.

"Harry!"

"Oh, come on. A simple disillusionment charm will cover it up until it's gone. There's no reason to overreact."

Draco had gone red in the face and he started to struggle against Harry, but Harry, having learned martial arts in his years as an Auror, was able to pin him down despite the fact that Draco wasn't much shorter than Harry, even if he was more slender.

As he laughed at the swear words pouring out of Draco's mouth, his back pocket vibrated, and a shrill ringing effectively ended the moment of playfulness. Knowing who was calling, Harry sat back with a sigh and answered the call with an, "I'll be there in two minutes."

"Good, because our boss isn't very impressed by your constant disappearing acts," Hermione's voice said before the line went dead.

"Shite," Harry swore as he rose to his feet and straightened out his robes. Turning to Draco, who still had a somewhat dazed and disheveled appearance, he bent down and pecked him on the lips before saying, "I have to go. I'll call you in the evening."

"Are you in trouble?" the blond asked, looking so wide-eyed and lost that Harry had the urge to hug him and pat him on the head. Stop it, he scolded himself, embarrassed by his own urges.

"I'm always in trouble," Harry said as he grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace.

"Right."

There was a knock on the door, and both men glanced towards it before Harry turned back to Draco and said, "Well, bye then."

After a moment of consideration, he leaned in for another kiss, which Draco gladly reciprocated, and quickly stepped into the fireplace, noticing that the door was being pushed open out of the corner of his eye.

Bloody hell, he thought, hoping that whoever it was hadn't caught them kissing. Draco shot him a panicked look as the flames engulfed him, allowing him to escape from one awkward situation to another.

We really have to stop snogging in his office, Harry thought as he stepped out of the Floo and eyed the group of people in his office. As he put on his Auror smile and greeted his boss, he couldn't help but think that his concern was where he was kissing Draco, not the fact that they were kissing.

I really need to sort out my priorities, he thought as he began to explain himself to the group.

A/n: Is that the longest scene I've ever written? Probably is. It's about 6,500 words, which is how long some of my other chapters are, believe it or not. I thought about breaking it in-between, when Harry leaves to Antares, but it didn't make sense to have a time-skip there when only a minute or so has passed.

Confession: Sometimes I feel like the emotions in this story are really exaggerated and overdone, and I try to tone them down, but then I immediately feel like they're not strong enough. So I decided to keep them that way, even if they seem too much sometimes, because when you have such strong feelings towards a person or a situation, you're bound to exaggerate even the smallest of things and make them out to be much worse than they actually are. Am I right or am I right?

Question: How do you feel about the memory charm thing? It's something I've always wondered about, considering the Ministry has no branches or anything like that and is literally the only place where all the secrets lie (other than Hogwarts, of course, psht). And do you think Hermione suggested that Harry use it for his own personal reasons of her own accord, or do you think somebody ordered her to get him to do it?

Leave a review! Don't forget to leave a review with your thoughts and opinions! They're very important to me and I always make it a habit to reply to my reviewers! (To those who haven't gotten a reply from me: blame it on FFN, it has issues.)

Thank you for reading, following and favouriting this story!

Lots of love,

Arty xx