A/N: Slowly but surely. Want to send out another big thank you to the folks who have been patiently waiting for updates. RL is crazy for everyone right now I'm sure.

Un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine!

Came in without a warning

Not even a calm before the storm

Now tell me how to redeem it

This lie I've held inside

And I was holding your hand like this

The inevitable first kiss

Now the devil was bawling, bawling

Hurt so sweet

We're too young to end like this

-Walk the Moon

~24 November 1999~

Harry pulled his coat tighter, crossing his arms over his chest in attempt to block out the evening chill. The first snowfall of the season was dusting the lamplit streets, making the city glisten like something pulled straight out of a snow globe.

His first few days at the French Ministry had been equal parts exhausting and exhilarating. The training camp hours were long, and his brain was over-saturated with all of the spells and techniques they'd pummeled into him. But the rush! The sense of purpose and reason behind every movement! It felt so different than Quidditch—for the first time in a long time, it felt like he could be a positive force in the world. He'd owled in his resignation from Puddlemere after his first day on the job.

But his favorite part of each day was going home to Draco. Sitting down at the dining table, sharing dinner, and talking about everything and nothing. They'd finally settled into an easy rhythm. There was comfort and familiarity between them now—very nearly freed from the dark memories the past year had wrought.

Nearly.

There was still something that stood between them. Something dark and unspoken. And like smoke, every time Harry tried to grasp it, it slipped right through his fingers. It was the only monster Harry had ever faced that he wasn't certain he could fight. So he'd fallen back and skirted around it instead. He'd occasionally toe the line, testing the monster's boundaries—seeing what made it tick—but the second it reared it's head—the second it uttered a growl—Harry would retreat, head bowed and hands raised. Fighting the monster could wait. For now.

Lost in thought, Harry hadn't realized how close he'd gotten to home until he found himself pushing open the gate to the front terrace.

"Harry."

Harry froze. He looked up, his hand poised on the gate lock. Ginny Weasley stood under the archway of the front porch, her face lovely and unreadable. She was wearing the green coat he'd bought for her in Hogsmeade two Christmases ago.

"Hello." The word sounded weak in Harry's throat, wavering before it even hit open air.

"Mind if we go inside?" Ginny asked, her voice crystalizing in a puff of white smoke. "It's freezing."

Harry fumbled with the gate, stumbling through it and nearly tripping over his feet as he climbed the porch stairs. He couldn't quite bring himself to approach her, and gave her a wide berth as he neared the front door. "How long have you been waiting here?"

"A while. A half hour, maybe."

"Did you try knocking?"

Ginny visibly bristled. "Of course I tried knocking. I'm not an idiot."

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry said, heart pounding and mouth dry. "I only mean that Draco should be here."

"Well if he is, he isn't answering."

Harry frowned. "Cellar door."

The door swung open, revealing nothing but darkness and still air. Harry stepped into the foyer. "Draco? You home?"

Silence answered him.

Huffing, Harry charmed the lights back to life, hung his coat on the rack, and motioned for Ginny to follow him. "Tea?" he asked, as cordially as he could manage. He kept expecting to wake up from this crazy dream he'd stumbled into. And where was Draco?

"Yes, please."

It was painfully casual—painfully false. Harry led her into the kitchen and told her to make herself comfortable at the breakfast table. The wooden legs of the chair scraped against the tile as Ginny settled herself.

Harry put on the kettle and pulled two mugs out of the cabinet. He wrung his hands together, trying to massage the trembling out of his fingers. He'd faced two bogarts and a pride of matagots today without breaking a sweat, and yet the moment Ginny Weasley showed up, he was a puddle of soup.

Where was Draco?

The kettle announced itself all too soon, and Harry found himself pouring water over tea bags and sitting across from Ginny far before he was ready. They sat in uneasy silence, sipping their tea and avoiding each other's eyes.

Ginny was the first to rein in her nerves. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here."

Harry was wondering a lot of things, but, yes, "The question had crossed my mind."

"I came with Ron and Hermione, actually," Ginny said.

Harry straightened in his chair.

"They took off when it started snowing, but I'm sure they'll be back tomorrow." Ginny looked at him then. She looked so different than the last time he'd seen her—shuttered off and polished as glass. "I'm sure they'll kill me for telling you, but they came to give you the news that they're engaged. Despite everything, Ron wants you to be his best man."

"Engaged?" Harry breathed. He said the word without knowing how he felt about it. How he felt about finding out this way—from his ex-fiance over an uncomfortable glass of tea.

"But of course, I'm not here just to spoil their good news." Ginny fiddled with the handle of her mug. "Harry."

She fully drew his attention for the first time. Her blue eyes were filled with ice and crystal, and her pale skin looked fresh as the snowfall. Harry shuddered. He'd seen that look often enough, but never directed at him.

"We've always tried to be honest with each other, haven't we?"

Harry swallowed and nodded. "I think so."

"And we've never been particularly keen on secrets, right?"

If Draco were here, he would've snorted and called the question redundant. From where Harry sat, he merely pursed his lips and answered with a nervous, "Right."

Ginny picked up her mug and blew into it. The steam swirled up into her face, muddling her freckles. She really was quite lovely, her long auburn curls demurely curtaining her navy blouse. Harry wished he could still look at her without recalling her throat splitting open, and Draco's throat splitting in kind.

"I refused to believe it for a while you know," Ginny said. "That you were leaving me. And when I found out that the reason was…was him...I was sure it was some sick prank."

The following silence prickled at Harry's ears and needled at his spine. "We weren't happy," Harry said. "Regardless of anything else that happened, we were lying to ourselves about what we were."

"Maybe you weren't happy," Ginny said, her voice laced with acid. "But I was."

"Ginny…"

She slammed her mug down. "Don't patronize me! I was happy with you! I was!"

Harry suppressed another shudder. His hands were still trembling, despite how he worried at them beneath the table. "What about being with me made you happy?" he whispered.

Ginny glared at him. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm just asking you a question. What was it about me that made you happy?"

Ginny's nostrils flared, marring her features. "We grew up together! We saved each other! After the war and everything we went through—"

"What we went through isn't me," Harry said. "Tell me what it was about me."

The muscles in Ginny's jawline feathered. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out. They sat like that for a long while, staring at each other with their tempers simmering just beneath the surface. The next drink Harry took of his tea was cold.

"So it's different with him then, is it?" Ginny asked softly.

Harry signed. "I'm not trying to upset you."

Ginny laughter—a broken, bitter sound. "So it is different then."

Harry refused to look at her. He wasn't sure he could stomach it.

"Are you in love with him?"

Harry looked down at his mug, running his thumb along the smooth ceramic. "I am," he answered. And though he'd never said the words, he knew they were true. What he felt for Draco couldn't even be contained within the word 'love'.

"That's—"

She was cut off by the sound of the front door opening.

A string of curses followed, accompanied by the uneven pattering of footsteps making their way down the hall. Draco appeared in the kitchen doorway a moment latter, looking uncharacteristically disheveled.

"Harry, I'm sorry I'm—" Draco froze, his eyes honing in on Ginny. He looked as if he'd just been struck. He straightened himself before cocking his shoulder against the moulding. "Why if it isn't Ginevra Weasley. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Once, Harry might've been fooled by Draco's casual demeanor. But he now saw the sharpened angles of his body and the uneasy draw of his mouth for what they were. Harry also saw how Draco's hand was poised at the pocket that typically held his wand.

"Where have you been?" Harry asked.

Draco's gaze shifted to him, one of his pale brows rising. "Why? Were you worried?"

"Yes," Harry answered simply.

The response had a physical effect; Draco flinched back, the muscles in his jaw tensing. "I lost track of—" Draco hiccuped "—of time."

Ginny grimaced. "Are you drunk?" It was more of an accusation than a question.

Draco's smirk was a deflated version of its usual self. "Only a bit."

Ginny laughed then, suddenly and with unexpected mirth.

Harry and Draco exchanged a glance.

"Sorry," Ginny covered her smile with her hand. "This is just…I feel like I'm having an out of body experience right now."

"Right," Draco said, his eyes still locked on Harry's. "Back to my earlier question: what's she doing here exactly?"

Harry looked at Ginny, who was still choking back laughter, then back to Draco, who looked about ready to topple over. "Apparently Ron and Hermione are engaged."

That didn't seem to be at all what Draco had expected. His mouth dropped open in a silent "Oh".

Ginny's laughter died as quickly as it came. "Sure, Harry, that's one way to answer it."

"Harry?" Draco questioned.

Ginny pushed her chair back and stood. "I should really get going."

Harry stood as well, his heart jackhammering in his chest and his nerves utterly shot. He felt as if his past and his present were colliding—a tornado and a monsoon raging together to create the perfect storm. Ginny attempted a smile, but couldn't quite manage to push it through her sneer.

"You're making a mistake here, Harry," she said, so softly that Harry wasn't quite sure he'd heard it at all. "This is broken."

She turned and stepped in front of Draco. "I hope you know what you've ruined."

Staring down at her, Draco swallowed and moved aside. She swept past him and disappeared down the hallway. Harry heard the front door swing open and click closed, leaving he and Draco alone and breathless.

"Wow," Draco whispered. "That was—"

Harry shoved him against the doorway, grabbed the collar of his shirt and crashed their lips together. Draco made a sound that vibrated all the way down Harry's throat and rippled into his toes. It was only a moment before Draco's hands were on his hips and shoving him right back. Harry gasped when his shoulder-blades collided with wood. Draco's tongue was filling his mouth in his next breath.

"I missed you," Harry said as he tugged Draco's shirt from his trousers.

"Merlin, when I saw her with you," Draco growled. "I thought…fuck, Harry, I nearly lost it."

Harry shuddered. He wished that he didn't understand—that he hadn't felt the exact same thing once before. Draco rocked against him, and Harry could sense the monster stirring somewhere in the shadowed corners of Draco's mind.

Harry kissed him again, hoping it was enough to keep the darkness at bay.

25 November 1999

Harry paced across the living room, rubbing his sweaty palms against his trousers as his stomach threatened to turn itself inside out. Draco sat a few feet away, newspaper poised in his lap and his leg dangling over the arm of his chair.

"I'm sure you don't know or care how much that rug cost," Draco said,"but suffice it to say that if you wear a hole through it, I'll be extremely put out."

Harry ignored him. If anything, the provocation only spurred him to pace faster.

"You're overthinking this, Harry," Draco continued in monotone. "It's just Granger and Weasley. There's absolutely nothing to be nervous about."

"I'm not nervous!" Harry snapped, whirling on Draco. One blond, raised eyebrow sent him right back to pacing again. "Alright, so maybe I'm nervous…"

Draco set his newspaper aside. "Alright, so why are you nervous? And more importantly, why are you taking it out on my rug?"

"I don't know! Like you said, it's just Ron and Hermione, right? I've talked to them a million times—nearly every day for seven years—but it's never…I mean it's never been like this between us before."

"You've had to have fought with them before," Draco said. "In fact, I know you did because I distinctly remember celebrating a few such occasions with copious amounts of alcohol. Though, I suppose saying that I remember might not be entirely accurate…"

Harry wanted to laugh—the reaction was all but instinctive—but the emotion shattered halfway up his throat. He looked down at his old, beat up trainers. "What if we can't get back to the way it was? What if I can't let my anger go?"

Draco tilted his head, his expression softening around the edges. "You've already let it go."

"You don't know that."

"I do, actually," Draco replied. "Because I know that you love them."

Tears prickled at the backs of Harry's eyes, making him thankful that he was still looking down.

"Harry…I—"

The doorbell chimed, and Harry's nerves nearly rocketed out of his skin. He turned, his body operating on autopilot as he made his way towards the front door. He could hear his heartbeat like a drum inside his skull.

Harry pulled the front door open.

Ron and Hermione were waiting on the other side, wrapped up to their chins in Molly Weasley couture. They stared at Harry for a long moment, looking like a pair of deer in headlights. Harry was all but sure he looked the same.

Hermione was the first to snap out of it. She jerked forward, raising her arms as if to hug him only to stop mid-gesture. She attempted to mask the movement by pulling at her hopelessly rumpled sweater. "Hello, Harry."

Even the sound of her voice pulled at Harry's heartstrings. "Hey guys. Come on in."

He stepped aside, giving them space to walk past. Ron grinned at him on his way through the doorway. "It's good to see you, mate."

"Really good," Harry agreed.

Hermione did hug him then, with full force and zero regard to his need to breathe afterwards. But he hugged her back anyway. She smelled like coffee and parchment and all the things he'd ever called home. He buried his face into her neck and squeezed her even tighter.

"We've missed you so much," Hermione whispered, her voice thick and wet.

Harry gave a breathless laugh. "Like crazy."

They parted, and without skipping a beat, Ron moved in. Ron—who'd somehow grown even taller over the summer—crushed him like he was little more than a house elf.

"You're going to break his glasses, Ron," Hermione chastised.

Ron released him, and Harry winced as his bones resumed their normal shape. Despite everything, Harry couldn't banish the smile from his face. The three of them stared at each other, a blatant mixture of nerves and excitement.

"Harry!" Draco called from the other room. "They haven't killed you have they? Say nothing if you need me to come in there and kick Weasley's arse."

Ron grimaced. "Why just me? Hermione's in here too!"

"Because you're a ginger. And because Granger scares the living shit out of me."

Harry laughed, and Hermione proceeded to look oddly proud. "We're coming," Harry shouted. He glanced back at Ron and Hermione. "That is, uh, if you guys are okay with that? Talking to me with him there, I mean."

"Harry," Hermione squeezed his arm. "If Draco is a part of your life then we want him to be a part of ours as well. That…that should've never been in question. I'm sorry that it was."

Warmth flooded Harry's face and trickled down into his limbs, making his hair stand on end. A tidal wave of emotion threatened to overcome him. His nerves threaded together up his throat and came out in thick chords of laughter. It was freeing somehow—he didn't know why.

"Have I mentioned yet that I've missed you guys?" Harry asked with something between a chuckle and a sniffle.

"Right back at ya, Harry," Ron replied.