48. Through to you [Tuesday, November 1st 2005]

Draco got up at the nick of dawn. Harry was sleeping like a log, but Draco's mind was racing.

His search for Harry really had made him think. There had been no way to contact him instantly, if only to tell him that Draco would be waiting for him to come home. Owl post took time and, just as the Protean, could be easily ignored. You couldn't exactly stop a Patronus from relaying its message.

He thought about going down into the dining room, but then decided against it. Sure, it was farther away from the bedroom, but it was also cold and sterile. If Draco was honest, it reminded him of the Manor, which certainly wasn't a place of happy memories.

He soundproofed the sitting room, sat down on the couch in front of the fire place (which was burning like always) and concentrated. What was his happiest memory? He considered the moment he had realised that the Dark Lord was dead, but that was too closely related to his worst memories. Better play it safe.

He finally decided on their first date. He had definitely been happy when Harry really kissed him for the first time, without any misunderstandings or deceit. He pictured the scene in his mind – twigs in Harry's hair, the door against Draco's back, his cold hands on his shoulder and hip.

"Expecto Patronum."

Something silvery fizzled out of the tip of his wand and Draco nearly dropped it in surprise. He forgot to focus on his memory and the mist evaporated.

Well, that still had been easier than anticipated. Draco had never even gotten that far until now.

But Draco's initial euphoria quickly vanished. After an hour of practice, he still hadn't managed anything even slightly more solid than that. He had tried different memories (an unsurprisingly high number of which were sex-related and every single one of which featured Harry), but none of them seemed to do it. Draco didn't understand. He couldn't imagine having memories that were happier than the ones he chose. There were some pretty damn happy ones in there, for fuck's sake!

"Expecto fucking Patronum!" Draco demanded, hardly thinking of a memory at all anymore.

Nothing happened if you didn't count Harry laughing at him unexpectedly. He climbed over the back of the sofa and sat down beside Draco, draping one arm around his shoulders and kissing his cheek.

"No luck?"

Draco grumbled and leaned into his embrace. "Looks like my Patronus is a demanding little bitch."

"You're probably not thinking about the right things," Harry said quite unhelpfully.

"No, believe me, I've definitely got some good memories." Draco threw his wand on the coffee table. He was frustrated and also horny from reliving all those sex scenes.

"I could help you make another one."

Draco didn't have to be asked twice. He turned to Harry and pushed him until he was lying on his back, Draco between his legs.

"Fine," he said with a grin. "But this time, you're it. I'll definitely need a few days after yesterday."

Harry just grinned back, completely unimpressed. "Could've stopped me."

As if Draco had the mental strength to resist him.

~o~

"What do you think it'll be?"

"Probably a flubberworm or something," Draco said dejectedly.

"Who knows, maybe it's something cool." Harry, who was lying behind Draco, tightened his arms around Draco. "Like a ferret."

Draco tried to ram his elbow into Harry, but his arms were pressed so tightly to his body that he found it impossible. "Thanks, Violet."

"Don't call me that!"

"Don't call me a ferret, then."

"I called your Patronus a ferret."

"You know what you meant!"

"Sorry." Harry laughed and locked him in place with just one arm. Then he leaned over Draco (nearly crushing him) and rummaged through the pocket of his jeans, which were lying on the floor beside the sofa. "Here, have a Snitch."

Draco wriggled a hand free to take the Chocolate Snitch. When he opened the box, the Snitch flew out at once and circled their heads.

"You let it get away!"

Draco scoffed. "You think I want your pocket chocolate?"

"Yeah."

"No." Draco watched as Harry snatched the Snitch out of the air, and then checked the card. "Look, I got my favourite Seeker."

Harry leaned forward so he could look over Draco's shoulder. "That's Tim McCarthy," he said flatly.

"Yes," said Draco seriously. "I think I'll put that in my wallet."

Harry bit his neck and Draco squealed (manly) and pushed him away with a hand against his forehead. Harry grabbed both his wrists from behind and pressed them against Draco's chest, whispering into his ear, "Your Patronus is definitely gonna be a backstabbing little bitch. What's the animal for that?"

"You're the Patronus expert, not me. I'm starting to have my doubts about your teaching abilities, if I'm being honest."

Harry pushed him off the couch.

~o~

"I'm sorry! I swear I didn't do that on purpose." Harry was kneeling between Draco's legs in front of the couch, turning Draco's head so the sun illuminated his temple properly.

"Wait 'til I tell people that you gave me a black eye," said Draco with a devious grin.

Harry groped at the coffee table for his wand. "That's not even your eye, you moron. I thought you were supposed to know a thing or two about anatomy?"

Draco pushed Harry's shoulder, causing him to drop his wand so he could brace himself with both arms behind his back. "'Harry Potter inflicts serious head laceration on Hero Healer Draco Malfoy!'. Witch Weekly will eat that up. I'll write a book and retire."

"I'm seriously considering bashing your head against the coffee table a second time," said Harry bluntly, picking up his wand again. "Nobody could blame me. I'll just tell them what an irritating little twat you are."

"As if," said Draco. "You do know you've got a very well documented anger management problem?"

Harry pointed his wand at Draco, who moved his head out of range immediately. "Don't point that thing at me."

"Sure! Do you want me to heal your head wandlessly? You may want to hold on to it."

Draco laughed. "The hell you will. You may conjure a mirror for me so I can do it myself."

"Don't you think I can manage a minor healing spell?" Harry asked with a pout.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Seeing as you're always covered in bruises you never even bother to get rid of …"

"That's a choice!"

"Not really an indicator for great healing qualities."

"I'm fully capable –"

"I just think these intricate spells aren't really your strong suit. You're more the blast-things-apart type."

"Hey, my pancakes never once ended up on the ceiling, unlike other people's."

"My face is not a pancake."

Harry rolled his eyes and sat back. "So, what you're saying is that you don't trust me to heal a small bruise?"

"Well …"

"At one point in my life I was on the run for nine months straight! What do you think we did when one of us got injured? Breezed in at St. Mungo's?"

"You didn't look all that peaky when we met at the Manor. You were a hot mess, to be honest."

Harry raised his wand again and Draco squeezed his eyes shut automatically. He planned to at least keep his eyesight if Harry fucked this up. There was a very faint whoosh, but nothing else happened. Draco peeked through his lashes. Harry had put his wand away and was opening a jar of arnica.

"I hope you feel ashamed," said Harry as he began to dab the essence onto Draco's temple. "Such a blatant lack of trust."

"Are you trying to shame me for not letting you heal the injury you gave me?"

Harry ignored that part and leaned back to examine his temple. Apparently satisfied with his work, he closed the jar and put it on the coffee table. "You could teach me some minor healing spells, you know? Could come in handy at practice when there's no Healer present."

Draco flicked Harry's forehead. "You're only supposed to heal yourself in cases of acute emergency. And that means life or death situations."

"Wow, do you really trust me so little?" Harry faked a hurt look and pressed a hand against his own chest.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Alright, here is how it works."

Harry raised an eyebrow but kept his mouth. Well, apparently there was a first for everything.

Draco launched into his explanation, which was basically what he told every single one of his Trainee Healers on their first day.

"Even without any assistance, we heal faster than Muggles, because our magic acts as a kind of defence against injuries and illnesses. Every time you cast a spell, you use up some of your magic, which takes time to regenerate. Now, if you're injured, your magic will already be chipped in the first place. So, by casting a healing spell, you give your body a very small boost, but hinder your recovery in the long run. That's why you should only heal very, very small injuries yourself, or the ones that would kill you straightaway if you didn't do something."

Harry looked down at his stomach and pointed at the spot where the Lightning Blast's footrest had impaled him months ago. "So that would have been a 'No'?"

Draco brushed over the scar with his fingertips. "Definitely. When the blood comes gushing out, that's when you're allowed to heal yourself. And only when there's nobody else who can do it."

"Noted." Harry clapped his hands once, very suddenly, and got to his feet. "Shall we get started, then?"

"Start ... what?"

"Your Patronus lessons. What else?" Harry put his t-shirt back on and grinned down at him.

"And by 'lessons' you mean ...?"

Harry's grin widened as he pointed up at the attic. "I'll go get the chest down here."

Draco shook his head in silent refusal. "No way. I already told you –"

"All you really told me is that you're too scared to try," said Harry exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "But that's what the Patronus is about! Finding something good inside yourself, something to hold on to even when you're afraid."

"Don't act so high and mighty," said Draco irritably. "You're no better than me. We can talk when you're ready to work on some of your own fears."

Why did they always have to go there again? They kept going in circles, and Draco was tired of it.

"Fine," said Harry hotly, grabbing his jeans and storming out.

By the sound of it, he was putting them on while he went. Draco really hoped he wouldn't stumble and fall down the stairs. He thought about following him to make sure, but then decided against it and got dressed instead. If he didn't give Harry his space now, they'd surely end up fighting.

He was just pondering what to do next, when Harry suddenly stormed back in and pointed his wand at Draco, whose mind did an instantaneous backflip in confusion.

"What are you doing?" he asked pointedly, pushing the wand aside so it wasn't directed at his chest anymore.

"Take it!" Harry's voice was harsh and impatient. He pointed it back at Draco.

Only then did Draco realise that Harry was holding his wand the wrong way round, offering it up to him. It also wasn't Harry's phoenix wand. It was Draco's first one, hawthorn and unicorn hair.

"What for?"

"It's yours. I should've given it back to you years ago." Harry seemed angry, though Draco couldn't say who he was angry at.

"It's not mine," said Draco. "You won it from me, which makes it yours."

Harry shook the wand, like he was suddenly anxious to be rid of it. "We both know it recognises you too."

Draco took a step back, shaking his head. That was the wand that had killed the Dark Lord. Now that he was aware of the fact, he didn't think he could ever touch it again.

"I don't want it."

"Draco, I'm trying here!" Harry sounded desperate now, like he was this close to completely losing it. "I'm really trying to change something, but I can't do it without you, so please take it!"

Before he could think about it, Draco snatched it away from Harry, who dropped down onto the arm of the couch, obviously relieved. Draco looked down at the wand in his hand. It didn't feel any different than the last time he had held it, but at the same time he felt like throwing it across the room, preferably into the fireplace.

Draco drew his own, new wand and pointed it at the hawthorn one, encasing it in a wooden frame and then sealing it with a pane of glass. He plucked it out of the air and used his wand a second time to fix the frame to the wall right next to the fireplace. As he sat down on the other arm rest, he felt oddly light, like he had solved a problem he hadn't been aware of until now.

They both stared at the hawthorn wand for a minute, saying nothing. Then Draco slid sideways onto the couch itself and leaned his head back so he could look up at Harry.

"Now I understand why my parents did it. Hide all these dangerous artefacts behind glass, I mean." He took a deep breath. "Feels almost liberating to seal that away."

Harry frowned down at him. "Do you see it as a dangerous artefact?"

Draco shrugged. "That wand was the Dark Lord's downfall."

"It's just a wand." Harry dropped down next to him and stroked his arm. "But I still like it up there. Reminds me that there's something else to it than just a means of defence."

"What's that?"

Harry smiled. "We're both masters of that wand. If a magical object like that thinks that there's something connecting us, then what in the world could keep us apart, really?"

Draco laughed and flicked the lightning scar fondly. "You're absolutely mental."

Harry grinned back at him. "Then you must be mental for choosing me, right?"

Draco could feel the grin spread across his whole face just as Harry seemed to realise what he had kicked off.

"Well, how could I not choose –"

"Don't you dare say it!"

"– the Chosen One?"

Harry groaned, threw his hands up in exasperation, and got to his feet. "Fine, if you choose to go there, then I choose to hold you to your end of the bargain. Get up."

"What? No!"

Harry pointed an accusing finger at him and picked up his wand. "You owe it to me to at least try. I earned that. I'll get the chest. You can make room."

Three minutes later, the damned chest was standing right next to the fireplace, and they were standing in the middle of the room, all the furniture pushed up against the walls.

"Alright, we'll do a few preliminary exercises first. There's no point bringing in the boggart before you've managed the basics."

Draco lowered his wand. "I don't really see why we need one at all. Won't that just make it unnecessarily hard?"

Harry grabbed Draco's arm and brought it back up into casting position. "Don't question my teaching methods, Malfoy. The boggart is for proper motivation."

"That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

"Less talking, more practicing. Also, that's five points from Slytherin. For the disrespect."

Draco snorted with laughter. "It's finally happened. The power's gone to your head."

"Quit distracting. Let's see what you've got." Harry gestured at Draco with his wand, which was definitely not proper wand etiquette. "Wand a little higher, you want it to be level with your heart. Now concentrate on a happy memory. None of that trivial stuff – just go all in straightaway."

Draco took stock of himself, trying to decide on his happiest memory.

Harry poked his shoulder disapprovingly. "Close your eyes. You're staring at it like it's gonna go up in flames any second."

"I don't trust you not to let that thing loose the second I look away," said Draco tensely. "Sink or swim seems like your kind of teaching style."

"I promise not to open it without a warning. Now close your eyes and picture your memory."

Draco sighed dramatically as he did what he was told. Problem was: he was nowhere near to picking a sufficient memory. Their first date was a good one in and of itself, but Draco was very aware that it had only produced a pathetic amount of mist. Maybe the night when Harry had kissed him in front of all his friends? Problem was, Draco had been just as embarrassed as he'd been happy about that. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to take just one aspect of the memory.

Draco finally settled on his last birthday. The first half of it had been a disaster, what with the Tornados catching the Snitch mere seconds into the game, but the rest of the day had been rather good. There'd been a surprise party at the Burrow. For him. Mrs. Weasley had cooked everything he liked and even made him a new sweater. Draco elected to forget about the homophobic lady they'd met at the video store and especially about 'Finding Nemo', which really had no business being marketed to children. But the other movie had been entertaining, and the walk home had been perfect.

Draco tried to remember what he'd felt when Harry had Apparated him to the Burrow and everybody had been waiting for him.

"Alright," said Draco calmly, keeping his eyes closed. "I'm going to try, so don't you dare let that thing out."

He heard Harry take a step back and say, "Quit thinking about it. You're supposed to concentrate."

"Remember when I tried to help with your physical therapy and you claimed you couldn't concentrate with your eyes closed and me there?"

Out of the blue, Harry pushed his shoulder. Draco staggered back, but then Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him in before he could fall. Draco pushed him back, heart racing, but Harry stood firm, grinning at him deviously.

"You deserved that," he said assertively. "You should definitely trust me more than I trusted you last year. Also, you let me fall, which, let me point out, I didn't."

Draco just pulled his arm away and then stepped as far away from him as possible, which meant the wall was now at his back. "Let's get this over with."

He closed his eyes again, raised his wand and, before Harry could make any more questionable teaching decisions, said firmly, "Expecto Patronum."

"Good," said Harry enthusiastically. "Look at it!"

Draco's heart picked up speed. It couldn't be that easy, right? Harry told him to do it and just like that, Draco managed to produce a Patronus?

Disappointment washed over him when he opened his eyes and saw only the same faint mist he'd already produced on his own. "That's pathetic."

Harry waved Draco's complaint away. "That's really good. You can't expect a corporal Patronus right away."

The mist dispersed and Draco lowered his wand. "So, what am I supposed to do with that? I can't send a cloud of mist to deliver a massage."

"You just have to keep practicing." Harry seemed really motivated. He gestured over to the chest. "Let's see how you do with the boggart."

Draco made a face. "I don't know. What good is that tiny bit of mist going to be against a dementor?"

Harry didn't offer up any encouragement. "I'm going to let it out and you'll try to keep it up, alright?"

"No?"

But Harry, standing in the middle of the room, was already pointing his wand at the chest. The lid sprung open and out rose a very real looking dementor, its robes floating around it. The temperature dropped instantly and Harry took several steps back, coming to stand just in front of Draco. His shoulders were tense and he was clenching his fists.

"Draco!" Harry grabbed Draco's free hand and squeezed it. His fingers were ice cold and trembling.

Draco raised his wand, but his head was empty. He couldn't remember the memory. Truth was, he had never been happy and he wasn't ever going to be. This wasn't meant to last.

The dementor stretched out a hand and floated over in their direction.

"Draco," said Harry in a whisper. His breath came out in hectic white clouds. The hand around Draco's felt like that of a dead man.

Draco shook his head. His wand was no longer raised but held loosely at his side. He could barely hear his own voice. It didn't matter anyway. What good was trying anyway? Draco would never manage a Patronus. And even if he did – Harry hadn't told him where he had gone for a reason. Maybe he hadn't wanted Draco to find him. A Patronus wouldn't change that.

"I can't."

Harry, now backed against the wall right beside him, raised his own wand. The dementor flickered – its robes became more solid and for a split second, it seemed like it had a face.

And Harry took a sudden step forward and said, voice unexpectedly clear and determined, "Expecto Patronum!"

The stag charged at once, throwing the dementor back with its antlers and then pushing it until it vanished into the chest, which snapped shut at once. The stag was gone not a second later.

Draco dropped down to his knees at once. His legs felt like they were made of jelly and he was freezing. Harry slid down the wall until he was sitting next to him, legs drawn against his torso and wand still pointed at the boggart chest.

"I'm not doing that again," said Draco after a while. His voice sounded oddly flat.

Harry just shook his head and said nothing for a few more minutes. When he finally turned to look at Draco, there was no life in his eyes.

"Maybe the boggart was a bad idea. You're not the type who needs to be threatened with a Dragon in order to master a summoning charm. We should ... we should just stick to practicing without it. Maybe we can bring it in later, when you've managed a corporal Patronus. As a test."

Draco nodded. He was glad that they weren't broaching the topic of his boggart (even though he was sure that Harry had noticed it) or Draco's inability to perform when it mattered.

~o~

Draco poked at his pasta while casting around for a stronger memory. He had plenty of time to think during lunch, but nothing really powerful came to mind.

The only thing that happened was that he realised how often they seemed to fight. Was that healthy? And if it wasn't, what then? They would never be able to just stop fighting. Draco didn't even know if he wanted the fighting to stop. He kind of liked it. He especially liked the reconciliations that usually followed.

"Draco," said Harry suddenly. He wasn't eating either. Maybe he had ruined his appetite eating all those Chocolate Snitches after the boggart stunt. "Are you still thinking of a memory?"

"What else would I be doing?" said Draco drily.

"Well, it looks like you're trying to solve some kind of riddle in your head. Come on, no side-tracking. Either the memory is good or it isn't."

Draco shook his head and formed a pasta mountain in the middle of his plate. "There aren't exactly many to choose from."

Harry breathed out heavily but didn't say anything. Draco decided to just try the night when he'd told Harry that he loved him and they'd kissed in an alley (after Harry had kicked his arse, but it seemed that Draco would have to dissect his memories after all).

He pushed his plate away and picked up his wand. Harry turned to watch him, looking somewhat relieved.

"Expecto Patronum."

A tiny cloud of mist trickled out, barely visible in the bright sunlight and Draco was overcome with desperation. He was actually getting worse! He had trouble focusing his thoughts, because they kept slipping back to the sitting room. But then Harry put his hand on Draco's shoulder unexpectedly and gave him an encouraging smile.

"That's still good. Try to focus more on the memory. Imagine you're reliving it."

"I'm doing something wrong," said Draco, dropping his wand in frustration. "Maybe it's the motion? Show me again."

Harry obviously didn't think that it was the motion, but he still did as asked. The stag emerged, blindingly strong, and pranced through the kitchen. Draco felt his heart lift at the sight. He raised his wand again and cast while Harry's Patronus kept circling them.

At first Draco thought he was imagining it, but then Harry squeezed his shoulder and he knew he saw it too. The mist was getting thicker and brighter. But no matter how hard Draco concentrated, it didn't change further than that.

"That's alright." Harry gave him a glowing look and a soft smile. "Just practice whenever you have some time to yourself. Think of some more memories, so you can switch between them if you notice one isn't strong enough. We'll get there eventually."

Well, at least one of them was confident.