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34. Always darkest before dawn [Thursday, February 24th 2005]

If anybody could celebrate his birthday on a Thursday night, it was Blaise Zabini. What was more – people would actually attend. Rich, influential, beautiful people. Oh, and Draco was there too, which was probably Blaise's greatest feat. But even Blaise's power of persuasion seemed to have its limits. No matter what he'd offered, Harry had flat out refused to come as himself.

Which was why Draco was leaning against a wall next to a thirty-something blond guy wearing Harry's emerald silk dress shirt, which didn't bring out his eyes at all, because they were now a boring grey. Draco couldn't even complain about it, because Ginny was standing on Harry's other side, and they hadn't exactly told anybody yet. Draco got the feeling that Harry hated being the centre of attention, even if it was his family.

"Don't know why he has to invite all these people," Ginny said under her breath while she took three Chocolate Snitches from a plate that floated by and handed one to each of them. "He doesn't even like half of them."

"Of course he doesn't," said Draco, unwrapping his Snitch and finding Sophia Grant, Seeker for Puddlemere, staring up at him. "They're influential people, you're not supposed to like them. You're supposed to stroke their ego so they'll do you favours later."

"Disgusting," said Harry, making no effort at all to keep his voice down. It was hard to tell if this was directed at Timothy McCarthy's card in his hand or what Draco had said. "Oh no."

And that was all the warning they got before Slughorn descended upon them not a second later.

"Miss Weasley!" Her hand was in his before either of them could do so much as blink, and then he was already performing an elaborate bow in front of her. "What a very nice surprise to see you here. But then again, I heard your liaised with dear Blaise, of course? A very good match, indeed. Though I must admit I was most saddened to hear that you and Harry separated."

"Yeah, well," said Ginny casually, gesturing with the card picturing herself. "Wasn't meant to be. It was a long time ago and we've moved on, so no harm done, really."

Slughorn laughed deeply. Several people turned around to look for the source, which was probably the effect Slughorn had wanted to achieve. Certainly couldn't hurt to be seen laughing with Ginny Weasley, even if all she could muster was a half-hearted grin.

"Always telling it like it is," Slughorn said with a chuckle. "Just the other day I told one of my students, Gwendolyn Worthington, how refreshing it is to talk to you. You might know her mother, Glenda Worthington? She's lead-designer at Spudmore Brooms. Practically developed the Firebolt Gold single-handedly, you know."

Draco exchanged a look with Harry, who also seemed to suspect where this was going.

"I didn't know you were still teaching," Ginny said, maybe to distract him from what he was preparing to ask.

Slughorn gave another booming laugh that turned heads. "Oh no, my dear girl. I really should stop calling them my students. I'm keeping a small club, you see? Just a small get-together once a month, an occasion for former and current students from various schools to socialise."

Ginny nodded and emptied her drink, probably so she wouldn't be forced to come up with a reaction.

"Sounds like a great opportunity for your students," said Draco, because honestly, it was getting awkward just standing there and listening to their conversation.

Slughorn chuckled in his direction and then did a double take, like he only just recognised him. "Draco Malfoy, my dear boy! I've been meaning to write to you, you know? My congratulations on your recent appointment!"

Draco knew that his surprise was written all over his face, not least of all because Harry was smirking at him like the bastard he was.

"Thank you," he said, faking confidence as he took Slughorn's offered hand and shook it.

"Oh, I've just had the most marvellous idea," said Slughorn, boding ill. "You should both come to my next function. It will be ever so delightful. You simply must meet Amara Giordano. Her mother is Eloise Giordano –"

"– the inventor of the dragon pox vaccine?"

"The very one," said Slughorn, apparently satisfied with Draco's enthusiasm. "Amara is determined to follow in your footsteps, so to speak. She wants to become a Healer for the Italian National Team. I'm sure she would love a chance to talk to you."

"I'll be there," Draco said eagerly.

Slughorn beamed at him. Harry and Ginny both looked at him in disbelief and (in Harry's case) very thinly veiled disgust. They smoothed their expressions when Slughorn turned his attention to Ginny again.

"How about you, Miss Weasley? Miss Worthington would surely be delighted to meet you. She's aspiring to play for England, you know? And she knows an awful lot about brooms, that's for sure."

"I'm really busy right now," said Ginny vaguely, stepping on Draco's foot as if by accident (which was a real feat, because Harry was still standing between them). "But I'll see if I can make time. Just owl me the date."

"Splendid!" Slughorn actually clapped his hands in delight. "Now all we're missing is Harry! It's just too bad he isn't here. From what I've heard I was sure he would be!"

Draco glanced over at Harry, who had actually taken a casual step back when Slughorn had mentioned his name. He was glaring at Draco again, and Draco looked away quickly.

"What did you hear, Sir?"

"Oh ho ho," chuckled Slughorn. "Of course this won't be news to you, Draco. You see, I have heard that our dear Blaise has enlisted two star players to help with the development of his newest model." Slughorn actually winked at Ginny at the last part.

"Well," said Ginny non-committally, "Harry had plans already."

"You don't say," said Slughorn, clearly interested. "You wouldn't happen to know what kind of plans that are? A new girlfriend perhaps?"

If Slughorn heard Harry's annoyed groan, he chose to ignore it. More likely was that he was simply ignoring Harry's uninteresting person entirely.

Ginny shook her head instantly, probably used to this kind of questions by now. "He's watching his godson, that's all."

"Ah well," said Slughorn. "I wouldn't tell anyone, of course. I only ask because I have the loveliest lady in mind, and I would be delighted if I could introduce them. But maybe one of you could extent my invitation to Harry? It's strange, you know? Whenever I send an owl it seems to get lost."

Both Ginny and Draco glanced at Harry, who simply shrugged as if to say 'You do what you can'. Slughorn noticed none of this, focusing his attention on Ginny instead.

"Oh, well …" she said slowly, clearly in need of a good excuse and coming away empty-handed.

"I don't know if that's the most sensible idea," Draco said. "What with Giordano there and all. His grandparents died of dragon pox, you see? It wouldn't be very nice to remind him." There, Harry could thank him later.

"Of course!" Slughorn seemed rather taken aback. "However could I forget? I knew Fleamont and Euphemia quite well, you know? We were at Hogwarts together. That was before Fleamont invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, of course. We corresponded a great deal during the development stage, that much I can tell you. Fleamont was a gifted Potioneer, of course, but still always appreciative of my professional opinion. I was most saddened when I heard about their deaths. And within days of each other too."

Draco turned to Harry to give him a winning grin, since it didn't seem that Harry would have to turn up at Slughorn's soiree.

Harry was gone.

Slughorn didn't even seem to have noticed, but Ginny kept glancing to the left, eyebrows drawn together. Draco nearly went after him and only just caught himself at the last second. That would simply be way too suspicious.

"Excuse me," said Ginny, and then she followed after Harry.

Slughorn seemed disappointed. "A friend of yours?"

Draco merely shrugged, preoccupied with figuring out what had gone wrong just now.

"Not very talkative, is he?" As if Slughorn had even tried talking to him. "Lacks some manners, too."

"Don't we all?" said Draco absentmindedly, eyes following Harry and Ginny until they disappeared into the hallway.

Slughorn laughed way too loudly. "My dear boy, I'm sure your manners are much better than most people's. Although I do seem to recall an instance quite a few years back, when you tried to sneak into one of my Christmas parties."

Draco refrained from telling him that he had actually been trying to sneak into the Room of Requirement to work on his murder plot. These kinds of revelations usually dampened the mood. "Please, Sir, don't remind me."

"No need to be embarrassed, Draco. It's always nice to know that people enjoy my parties. And you're quite welcome to attend as many of my parties as you'd like."

"Thank you, Sir."

And then Ginny was back, shoulders set tightly and the Harpies' Seeker in tow. "Sorry, Professor, I've got to borrow Draco for a bit. But I've been told you haven't met Georgina Thompson yet?"

She grabbed Draco's arm before Slughorn even finished saying, "I haven't had the pleasure yet," and dragged him towards the door.

"I don't appreciate being hauled away like this," Draco said cooly.

Her grip on his upper arm tightened. "Well, then maybe try not to upset Harry next time!"

"Me? What did I do?"

"He didn't tell me. He never tells anybody; he likes sulking way too much."

"So how do you know it's my fault?"

"I asked him if it was something Slughorn said and he said no; so that only leaves you, because I didn't say anything."

They were nearly at the door now. "And now you want me to do what?"

Ginny breathed out heavily. "Fix it, I don't know."

"How do you expect me to fix it if he won't say what's gotten his knickers in a twist?"

"He responds to being insulted, so you shouldn't have any difficulties."

And then she pushed him through the door and shut it behind him. Harry was leaning against a wall, arms crossed tightly. He only raised his eyebrows at Draco, but didn't say anything.

"So, Ginny said you were sulking. Want to tell me what that's about?"

Harry opened his mouth in outrage. It somehow looked less impressive with the glamour. "I'm not sulking!"

"Right," said Draco, pointing at him, "because that's your party face."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

"Original. So what, did you want to go to Slughorn's stupid party?"

"You think that's what this is about?"

"Well, quite frankly, I wouldn't know, because you keep bitching at me instead of talking about it like the fucking adult you're supposed to be."

"Just fuck off." Harry kicked off the wall and made for the door, but Draco stepped into his way before he could reach it. Harry's wand slipped into his hand instantly. "Let me go."

"Then what? Two weeks? That's gonna be it?"

Harry gritted his teeth. "I'm not going to talk about that here."

"No, you'd rather run away and sulk some more."

For a moment Draco thought Harry was going to hex him, but then his hand was around his arm instead and they Apparated with a massive CRACK that must've been audible throughout the whole house.

~o~

Harry took off his glamour as soon as they arrived at his house. Draco threw his cloak at the wardrobe, not caring if it stayed there. Those three fucking jumps hadn't brightened his mood and he was also more interested in finding out if he still had a relationship. Seventeen days – that had to be a new record.

"Hey!" Potter exclaimed angrily. He snatched Draco's cloak from the leftmost hook and threw it at his head forcefully. He was definitely still in a bad mood.

"What's your fucking problem, Malfoy?!"

"My problem? You're one to talk, Potter! Stop throwing stuff at me!" Draco yelled back. "Maybe we should finally talk about your problems! You seem to have a lot of them!"

"You're my problem!" Potter yelled even louder. "You're a fucking slob!"

"I'm just not as obsessed as you! What difference does it make whether my cloak is on the left, right or middle hook?!"

Draco motioned to hang his cloak back on the left hook – the one closest to the door and therefore reserved for Harry's Invisibility Cloak – out of spite.

He was vaguely aware that they were leaving the original argument behind completely, but he didn't care as long as they were screaming at each other. Better this than that passive-aggressive bullshit.

"A huge one!" Potter snarled, seizing his wrist before he could reach the wardrobe.

"That so?!" Draco said angrily, pushing Potter away with his free hand, hard. "Please, enlighten me! Will the wardrobe collapse? Will the house burn down? Will someone die because of my cloak?"

"They might!" Harry exploded, grabbing him by the shoulders and slamming his back against the door so hard it rattled in its frame.

They were both panting, staring at each other. Harry looked as if he would give anything to be able to take it back. Draco felt like he'd just got slapped in the face. Draco's cloak was now on the floor, which meant he must have let go of it at some point.

"What do you mean?" he asked as softly as somebody who had just been bodyslammed by their maybe-still-boyfriend could muster (not very).

"Never mind," Harry said brusquely, letting go of him immediately. "I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't. Why would I? That's absurd!"

"Because you've been at war for so long, you don't even know how to be at peace anymore," Draco said harshly. "You're still waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Harry looked at him, crestfallen. Then he turned around abruptly, storming up the stairs two steps at a time. Draco followed after him immediately and grabbed his hand as soon as he caught up to him in front of the bedroom.

"Listen."

Harry regarded him with a hard look. "What do you know about me?"

Draco took a deep breath. Here they went.

"You hold on to a house you hate. You can hardly sleep without knocking yourself out first. But you can't really do that either, because then you'd be easy prey. You're paranoid as fuck. Nobody's after you anymore, but you're still on the run."

Harry's voice was trembling with rage. "You don't know who's out there!"

"You're right, I don't! Because it's not You-Know-Who. Nobody is out to get you, Harry. Not anymore."

"So what, did I imagine getting fucking poisoned?"

Shit. So maybe Draco had forgotten all about that. Not that it hadn't been horrible, but Harry was acting so insane sometimes that it was rather hard to see that maybe a small fraction of it was actually justified.

Draco shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. His free hand was clenched into a fist, and he forced himself to release it. The scar left by the Dark Mark itched horribly and Draco was glad that his other hand was occupied and he couldn't just rub it automatically. If he couldn't stay calm, how could he expect Harry to do it?

Merlin, Draco didn't know what to say. He was afraid that anything he said would just make it worse, but the longer he hesitated, the less believable his words would become.

"There's a line. Yes, you should be mindful out there, when there are people you don't know or trust. Do your three jumps, if you must. But in here? You don't need a designated spot for everything. What do you think could happen? Nobody's going to get in and go through your stuff."

Draco briefly debated telling him that hypothetical intruders would actually have an easier time covering up their tracks when everything was neat and tidy, because every little alteration would be obvious. But he doubted that it would help. It wasn't like Draco actually expected people to get in, so there was no need for even more defence.

And who knew what else Harry would come up with if he realised his method had flaws? Maybe he'd go over to purposeful messiness and start photographing everything before he left the house. And comparing those with the state of the house when he came back would literally take hours.

"What's so bad about being cautious?" Harry asked defiantly. "I'm not hurting anyone."

"Yes, you are! You can't keep going like this. You're not cautious, you're completely obsessed! You're safe here."

Draco was overstepping; he knew. They weren't even together for three whole weeks – it wasn't Draco's place to put him on the spot like that. When had he started to act before he thought?

"I don't know … they got in before." Harry shot a look at number twelve across the street.

Well, it was too late to change course now. Malfoys didn't do things by halves. If he started doing that, he had already lost.

"I promise you they won't," Draco said, pulling Harry closer by the hand he was still holding. "Just try not to worry too much. You survived."

There was no humour in Harry's burst of laughter. "Sure, I'll just 'not worry', then. No big," he said harshly. "This is all obviously just one very big mistake waiting to be corrected, but I'll just not worry about it. I shouldn't be here. I should be dead ten times over. But I won't worry."

"Fuck that!" Draco grabbed both his shoulders and slammed him against the bedroom door, just like Harry had done to him downstairs; he just couldn't help it. Soft words obviously would do nothing here. Fuck staying calm.

The words had barely left his mouth when Harry brought up both arms in between Draco's, slammed his elbows back down into the crook of Draco's arms, breaking Draco's grip on him, and then grabbed one of his arms, twisted it onto his back and pressed him against the door face first – all in under three seconds.

Harry's voice was just a low growl against Draco's shoulder. "Don't ever do that again!"

Draco struggled some, but all it did was twist his arm even further, and he stopped after just a few seconds, deciding to growl back instead, even if his face was squashed against the door. "You're not going to fucking die!"

"You keep saying that like that makes it true!"

Now Draco was yelling, and that definitely wasn't helping either. "It's been six years! You fucking killed him! You-Know-Who's dead!"

And Harry yelled back, completely in a rage now, the rigid line of his body pressed against Draco's, "You want me to stop worrying when you can't even say his fucking name?!"

Draco opened his mouth, fully prepared to just say it, scream it back into Harry's metaphorical face – and nothing happened. The words never even made it across his tongue, dying somewhere in his throat and producing just a low whine.

"Just fucking say it!" Harry yelled desperately, and his voice broke too. "VOLDEMORT!"

Draco took a heaving breath, and his chest felt too tight, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. All he could do was whisper, "I can't." His eyes were burning and he fought desperately to keep it together.

But then Harry let go of his arm, slung his arms underneath Draco's and across his chest, buried his face between his shoulder blades. He was shaking and something hot and wet blossomed at Draco's back. And then Draco couldn't hold back his own tears either.

Merlin, why did they have to be so fucked up?

It took several minutes until Harry stopped shaking, until Draco felt like he could breathe again. Harry released him hesitantly, stepping away to give him space to turn around and look at him. He looked just as pathetic as Draco felt.

"We won't stay this messed up forever. We can do it. I know we can." Draco said quietly. "Just at least try to relax a little. Maybe let your friends help from time to time. You don't have to pretend to be strong all the time. Nobody expects that from you."

Harry just growled silently, breathing unsteadily. At least he did not argue anymore or deny there was something that needed working on.

"You should, however, keep on Samantha. Your fans are barmy," Draco muttered and Harry laughed shakily.

"This is really embarrassing," Harry said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his dress shirt before Draco could stop him.

"Don't!" Draco groaned. "That's Hawtrey and Humphreys."

That certainly seemed to take Harry's mind off things. He gave him a look that Draco couldn't read and then started to unbutton it. "So … you want me to take it off?"

Well, if that wasn't a rather unexpected turn of events. But Draco would take it. Anything to move forward from this absolute disaster.

Draco scoffed. "Nice try, Potter. You still haven't told me what pissed you off so much in the first place."

"Are you sure you want to talk about that right now?"

Harry stretched out a hand, but instead of touching Draco, he pushed open the door behind him. He opened another button with the other hand at the same time. Draco forgot all about whatever they had just been talking about. And then Harry grinned at him, eyes still a little red but also the most beautiful thing Draco had ever seen, and Draco couldn't help but close the gap and kiss him, helping him take off that stupid shirt at the same time.

And then Harry's hands were on his chest and he was being pushed backwards into the room until his legs hit the bed, and then Harry grinned into the kiss and pushed.

Draco only protested a little bit when Harry threw the shirt in a laundry bin – didn't he know that designer shirts couldn't just be washed? He didn't protest at all when Harry placed a knee on either side of Draco and started to undo his shirt. He didn't get a chance to take it off, because then Draco pulled him as close as possible and kissed him again, maybe a little bit too roughly.

"Am I fucking it up right now?" Harry whispered in between kissing and taking hasty breaths.

"Are you … what the fuck Potter?" Draco pushed him away just an inch so he could look into his eyes. "This the opposite of fucking it up."

"Okay, good," mumbled Harry, and then they were kissing again. "I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. I've never been serious with a guy before."

"Less talking," whispered Draco, hands spreading all over his chest. Merlin, this was almost too much. He felt like his heart could give out any moment now and it wouldn't even come as a surprise.

"I just don't want to rush it," Harry muttered regardless, struggling with one of Draco's shirt buttons. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Yes, Merlin," Draco whispered. "Now shut up."

And then he made him by pushing him onto his back and kissing his neck and collarbone, which seemed to render Harry utterly speechless.

They kept clinging to each other tightly, so much so that Draco was amazed that they managed to take off their trousers at all. He didn't even get the chance to take off his shirt (not that it mattered, since it wasn't Hawtrey and Humphreys) before they were really going at it, and then he instantly forgot about it.

Harry stayed on top of him afterwards, stroking his sides lazily. Draco was sure that he would doze off any moment now, when his hand trailed off underneath Draco's open shirt and brushed over one of his scars. They were barely noticeable, but still there.

It was a disaster. Of course it was, because what else could have happened on a fucking wreck of a day like this?

Harry went completely still above him, his hand pressed to Draco's chest.

"Don't," Draco muttered desperately, just so damn tired of the constant flow of drama. Just when things were starting to go right again.

Harry looked up at him, mouth open in shock and green eyes wide. And – without meaning to – Draco fell in. Maybe it was because they had just been together, because the lines were still blurred. In this moment, Draco couldn't quite tell where he ended and Harry began and he saw … everything.

There they were, standing beside one another inside Madam Malkin's and Draco was mocking Hagrid. This couldn't be his own memory, because Draco hadn't even realised until now that this – and not their meeting on the Hogwarts Express – had been their first encounter.

And suddenly he saw himself, sitting in the common room and telling Crabbe and Goyle that he was hoping Granger would be the one to die by Slytherin's monster. But where had Potter (he hadn't been 'Harry' back then) been at that time? He wasn't there with them, so where did this memory come from?

His arm was bandaged and he was making Potter and Weasley do his preparations in Potions.

He was laughing about that Hippogriff's impending death and Granger was punching him in the face.

He was lying in a heap on the edge of the Quidditch pitch, tangled with Crabbe, Goyle and Flint while McGonagall was yelling at them furiously.

He was attacking Potter, who had turned his back on him, and suddenly there was Moody, turning him into a ferret, bashing him against the floor and ceiling over and over again.

He was in the dungeons, wearing a glowing, bright green badge, and Granger was hit by his spell, causing her teeth to grow rapidly.

He was tripping Potter, who was leaving the Room of Requirement at a sprint.

He was in Umbridge's office, watching her threaten Potter with a fucking Unforgiveable Curse while he held on to Potter's wand, a hungry look in his eyes.

He was talking to Borgin about the Vanishing Cabinet, threatening him with the Mark and Greyback. But again, Potter was nowhere to be seen. And why did it seem that he was looking at himself through a silvery veil?

He was in their compartment on the way to school, boasting about the job He had given him. How naive he had been back then, how stupid, thinking himself important, honoured to have been given such an important task by the Dark Lord himself. He noticed the silvery tint again and it dawned on him that Potter had been invisible then. The Cloak must have been shrouding his view.

He was petrifying Potter and breaking his nose, then covering him with the Invisibility Cloak again.

Potter was lying on his bed in Gryffindor Tower, staring at a parchment obsessively while Weasley was shooting him worried glances. How much time had he spent in front of that map?

Katie Bell was suspended in air, screaming like somebody was using the Cruciatus on her, and Draco's stomach turned violently.

Weasley was twitching on the floor, foaming at the mouth, while Slughorn stood by uselessly and Potter ravaged his potions kit.

The sixth-floor corridor, over and over and over again, shrouded in silver. The only ones there were Crabbe and Goyle, polyjuiced, and the occasional passer-by.

And then there it was, at last. Potter was entering the sixth-floor boys' bathroom, where Draco stood at the sink, a nervous wreck. Was it shock that showed on Potter's face when he saw him there? They were looking at each other in the mirror, his own face contorting furiously. Draco was attacking, Potter defending himself.

"Crucio!" Draco was yelling and Potter was dodging and yelling, "Sectumsempra!"

And it was hitting him square in the chest, slicing him open. And his blood was mingling with the water from a smashed sink, painting the floor red where he was lying, while Potter was dropping to the ground beside him, horror in his eyes.

And Draco believed he hadn't known what the curse would do. He looked at himself impassively. Potter hadn't known, but he had. He had tried to use an Unforgiveable Curse on him, for what? Seeing him in a weak moment? Spying on him?

He squeezed his eyes shut and the connection was broken. He could feel Harry collapse onto the bed next to him.

Draco's heart was racing and his mind was spinning fast. What had they been thinking? That they could forget everything that had happened between them? That their past didn't matter because they weren't trying to kill each other any longer?

They had managed to deceive themselves for a while but here they were. Harry had remembered why he hated him and Draco couldn't blame him.

He got up slowly and put on his pants and trousers. When he turned to face the bed, Harry was looking at him.

"Did you see –?"

"Yes. I didn't mean to ... Don't worry, I won't come back," Draco said, taking his wand and leaving the bedroom.

He was already at the stairs when he heard Harry yelling "Draco!" and scampering after him.

He kept going, but then Harry said, "Malfoy," and he stopped dead in his tracks.

They stood in the hallway, looking at each other, not saying anything. Harry was wearing his pants and nothing else and he looked small and unsteady. Finally, Harry crossed the space between them and took his wrist.

"Come on, I'll show you the rest."

"The rest? I don't think I need to see any more of my greatest hits," Draco said sombrely, but he stayed nonetheless. They were standing underneath the massive snake sigil in the ceiling, just in front of the sitting room.

Somewhere, a clock struck midnight and Harry looked up at the two entwined serpents.

And then he hissed at them and they opened their eyes simultaneously, uncoiling and slithering down to the floor, one of them twisting to form a staircase and the other a railing, finally going still again.