September, 1998

The sound of Draco disapparating rang in Harry's ears like a gunshot, echoing and reverberating in his head several moments after Draco had gone. The look Draco had given him right before he had disappeared was imprinted upon Harry's brain in a way he would not soon forget; the utter rejection and defeat in his expression made Harry want to abandon all else and follow him to wherever he went.

He felt immediate remorse for the words he had spoken, for quarrelling with Draco like a child in light of everything that was happening in the other man's life at the moment. It was as though he had been transported back to his days at Hogwarts, when he would spar with Malfoy in the halls at every given opportunity, when Harry would go to any measures necessary to protect his pride. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to soothe his frustration, fighting back his urge to punch the nearest hard surface he could find. He took a moment to let himself calm down, distancing his mind from the argument they had just had.

After a couple of silent moments had passed, he began to walk back towards the cottage, hoping that Andromeda wouldn't be too concerned about the way they had both rushed out of the house without so much as an explanation. As he turned around, he realized to his utter humiliation that he had left the front door open. Their fight in the front garden was now an embarrassing, public affair. He stepped back into the house, shutting the door gently behind him and raising his eyebrows in acknowledgement of Andromeda.

"Sorry about that," He said, running a hand through his hair and puffing his cheeks out to ease some of the discomfort he felt.

She remained seated at the table, the cup of tea she had poured when Harry had first arrived still resting on its saucer in front of her.

"Teddy seemed to sleep right through it, nothing to apologize for," she said.

Harry sat down across from her at the table, letting out a deep sigh.

"He's hurting," she said, turning her teacup idly to have something to do with her hands. "With his mother and everything else going on - he's just lashing out."

Harry nodded again, not knowing how to respond, but sure that she had to be right about that.

"I know, but I still shouldn't have -" he began, but the words got lost in his throat before he could form them. He wished he could just take back the last ten minutes of his life and have been a bit kinder, a bit more understanding.

Silence fell between them for a moment, and Harry was grateful for it. Just having someone else in the room who could listen and not offer advice or judgment of any kind was a refreshing change from what he was used to.

He lifted his head, and saw that Andromeda was looking at him kindly from across the table.

"He has feelings for you," Andromeda said, a compassionate smile upon her face. "I've seen that look he gave you before. Many times in my life, but most recently on my daughter."

Harry was caught a little off guard by this. He had felt the powerful chemistry in the room as soon as he had seen Draco standing there, but he had thought it was just because of the last time they had seen each other in person. Comparing whatever it was he and Draco had to Tonks and Lupin's relationship just felt wrong. Harry remembered the look on Tonks's face this time last year, when she had surely known that she was having Remus's child. She had been so excited, so filled with hope, so determined to complete her mission to keep Harry safe. She would have made the most fantastic mother.

"And did… Did you see it on me too? The same look? I mean… The way he looked at me," Harry asked, sipping a bit of his own lukewarm tea and trying to calm himself down. He was grateful that Andromeda didn't draw any extra attention to the topic of his sexuality, as this wasn't necessarily something he was ready to discuss on a broader level. Come to think of it, she was now the only other person besides Draco who knew about his unconventional sexual preferences. She seemed to understand that his difficulties to speak of the matter did not make it any less real, and her reassurance that Draco's feelings for him weren't all in his head was definitely a comfort.

"I don't think you've decided to let yourself feel anything yet." She said, with a knowing look in her eye.

That much Harry knew to be true. He couldn't imagine a world in which he wasn't being held back by his pride, by his fear of the unknown, or by the reactions that he would surely elicit from the wizarding community if he decided to pursue this. He wanted to believe he could just put that all aside and kiss Draco like he had back in June, that he could truly not care about the implications of this action and just enjoy it for what it was. Why did he keep getting in his own way?

"Yeah," He said, looking down at his hands. "I haven't."

There was then a loud screech issuing forth from the back room, letting them know that Teddy was awake.

"I got it," Harry said, feeling a sharp pang of guilt as he went to the back room to pick up the child from his crib. He hadn't been here for the hundreds of other times that Andromeda had soothed Teddy when he couldn't get to sleep. The obligation that Harry felt to Teddy's parents wore on him more every time he was in this cottage.

Teddy stopped crying and buried his head into Harry's shoulder, the sobs becoming intermittent hiccups as Harry patted him gently on the back.

"Harry," Andromeda said from the doorway, her tired eyes making Harry wish he had gotten here sooner. "I appreciate the help, but I think there's somewhere else you should be right now."

"I don't know what to say," Harry replied honestly. "I'm worried I'll just make it worse."

"Do you care about him?" Andromeda asked. Harry blinked a couple times, surprised by the forwardness of her question.

"Er... yeah. Yeah, I think I do." He could feel his ears turning red, but he tried to ignore this and focus on the matter at hand.

"You should find him," She said, offering him another encouraging smile. "Just tell him what you feel. It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that."

Harry glanced down at the top of Teddy's head, which he swore was changing colors as Teddy nestled further into his shoulder. "What if he tells me to bugger off?"

"Then you can come right back here and help me make dinner for this one," she smiled, taking Teddy gently from Harry's arms and beginning to rock him slowly.

Harry laughed, fetching his auror robes from the hall closet. "You're sure you're ok here? I can come by later if you need me."

"Just go," Andromeda said, waving him away. "We'll both be fine. Just don't be a stranger. Okay?"

Harry nodded, kissing the top of Teddy's head and turning to leave.

...

Diagon Alley was less crowded than it usually was when Harry visited. He had to remind himself that it was the middle of a workday, and not everyone had the luxury of dropping by the Leaky Cauldron to grab a pint at three in the afternoon. He walked into the building to find a couple of middle aged, tired-looking wizards nursing glasses filled with an amber brown liquid, and Tom, the barman, in his usual state of shuffling behind the counter.

"Oi, Potter!" he exclaimed when he saw Harry wander in. "Fancy a shot of Firewhiskey? It's on the house."

Harry smiled, as he always did when he was offered a credit in a bar. People never tired of flooding upon him their material possessions for his service in the wizarding war. It usually irritated him to an extent - he was so tired of being recognized and applauded everywhere he went - but he tried to remember that they were acting out of gratitude, and not purposefully trying to draw attention to him. As much as he would have loved to stay at the bar and drink until he could no longer feel the debilitating apprehension for the conversation that awaited him upstairs, he figured he would save this offer for another time.

"Sorry, don't think I can today," he said, glancing up the staircase and thinking of the last time he had met Ginny here for a drink, how different of a situation it had been at that time.

"Tom, which room is Draco Malfoy in?"

Tom exhaled loudly, rolling his eyes in response to Harry's question. "He's up in 12, at the end of the hall. He went up there a bit ago. But you can tell him he won't be here next week if he doesn't pay off his tab. I've got no interest in floating him for the next three months with that erratic payment plan of his."

"Right, thanks. I'll tell him." Harry replied, wondering idly how deep of a hole Malfoy had managed to dig himself into.

He began to climb the rickety, wooden stairs, remembering the summer that he had stayed in this inn before his third year at Hogwarts, how he used to bound up this staircase after exploring the shops all day and eating a full meal downstairs each evening. The hallway still smelled the same, of aged wood and musty linens. He would have given almost anything to go back to being a bright-eyed thirteen year old now, when his biggest concern was worrying that he wouldn't get enough practice in to lead Gryffindor to victory in Quidditch that semester. Sirius was still alive, as were Remus, and Tonks, and Fred, and Dumbledore. With the passing of each consecutive year, Harry was only reminded of how much he had lost with them.

Harry reached Draco's door at the end of the hallway and knocked gently, waiting for a response. The sound of a mouse squeaked from somewhere down the hall, and the clink of bar glasses drifted faintly up the stairs. He heard nothing but silence on the other side of the door. There were no footsteps, no aggravated commands for him to piss off. He tried knocking again, this time a bit louder, and then tried the door handle. It was locked. He pulled out his wand and performed a quick Alohomora charm, but to no avail. Draco must have used a protected lock on the other side of the door.

It was possible, Harry supposed, that Tom may have missed Draco leaving the inn again, that maybe he wasn't here at all. He could have been any number of places, Harry thought, perhaps at the hospital, or off with whatever person he had been "seeing" in June when he had first knocked on Harry's door. The more he thought about it, however, the more he wondered where else Draco would have to go, if he had resorted to paying an estranged family member a visit in exchange for lodging. What with the argument they had just had, and with Draco's last, somewhat ominous words spoken to Harry, he had to at least know that Draco was safe.

After not receiving a response again, Harry cast a quick muffliato charm in the hallway so that he wouldn't be overheard by anyone downstairs, then gripped the door handle and shoved with his shoulder as hard as he could. The ancient door gave way after only a couple tries, and he stumbled into the dimly-lit room.

The stacks of books lining the walls and piled on the floor caught his attention immediately. He noticed a couple of these books lying open on the desk, the middle spliced out to contain an indentation about 4 inches wide. Harry's heart sank like an anchor when he realized what had just happened.

"No, no, no, no," He muttered, his eyes darting frantically around the room, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He rounded a corner into the lavatory and with a jolt of horror found Draco there, slumped against a wall, not appearing to be breathing.

Harry swore loudly, quickly kneeling by Draco's side and gripping his wrist to make sure he was alive. His skin was like ice against Harry's fingertips, but Harry could still feel the faint pulse of a heartbeat pumping blood through his veins. There was still time.

Harry scrambled back into the room with all of Malfoy's belongings and stacks of Laethelixir, finding his school trunk in the corner and beginning to dig through its contents in a panicked surge of adrenaline. He had been in a similar situation before, he remembered. When Ron had taken the poisoned mead in Slughorn's office, he had been able to save Ron's life mostly out of luck - He was able to administer the Bezoar he had found in Slughorn's potion ingredients just in time. Harry wasn't naive enough to expect the same luck twice in a row, but nonetheless cast a summoning charm for a Bezoar, waiting a couple seconds for something to happen before taking out Draco's old tin box of potion ingredients in a desperate effort to do something, anything to fix this. He thanked whatever deity could hear him that Malfoy had always been better organized than himself; the vials of potions and spare ingredients were stacked neatly inside the box and wrapped in parchment for safekeeping. Harry thought of his own trunk with the spilled ink bottles and old socks scattered throughout, and was grateful that Malfoy had at least made this part as easy as possible for him. He shuffled through the vials, noticing that most of them appeared to be for medical purposes: Murtlap essence, burn-healing paste, essence of dittany, and with a shock, Harry found a vial labeled "Antidote to Common Poisons''. He wasn't sure if Laethelixir fell under the category of "common poisons," but was willing to try anything at this point.

He rushed back over to the lavatory as fast as he could, kneeling down by Draco once more and uncorking the vial, opening Draco's lips slightly and tilting his head back so he could pour the entire potion down his throat. He waited for several excruciating seconds, hoping more than anything that this would work, knowing that if it didn't, Draco's blood was surely on his hands. He prodded Draco, checking his pulse several times to make sure he was still alive.

After what felt like a lifetime of Harry counting Draco's heartbeats, dreading the worst possible outcome, Draco's eyes flickered open. He gasped loudly, taking several deep, rasping breaths, then immediately leaned his head over the toilet and coughed up the elixir he had ingested, along with the potion that had just been administered. Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding for nearly five minutes, and leaned his head against the bathroom wall in relief.

Draco slumped back towards Harry when he had gotten everything out of his system. He was clearly still delirious; both his skin and lips were deathly pale, and his eyes couldn't focus on anything in front of him. He laid his head down in Harry's lap, probably not realizing what he was doing.

"I'm sorry," He whimpered, his voice sounding so much weaker than it had been when they were at the cottage. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Harry stroked his head, slowly comforting Malfoy and also calming himself down. His heart rate was finally starting to go back to normal.

"Don't be sorry," he whispered, his fingers weaving through Malfoy's platinum blonde hair gently. "It's ok. You're ok."

"Don't leave," Malfoy said softly, and Harry felt a wave of sorrow for what had just happened, for the decision that Malfoy had just made because he truly believed there was nothing for him here. "Please stay with me."

"I'm not going anywhere." Harry replied, his hand slowly caressing Malfoy's head until he could feel the other man's breathing fall into a slow rhythm. Trying to cause as little disruption as possible, Harry got to his feet and cast a spell to levitate Malfoy into his bed, finally taking a deep breath once he was safely lying down.

Harry fixed the door back on its hinges so that they wouldn't be barged in on; the last thing they needed was for them to be found together in this room with probably thousands of galleons worth of Laethelixir. He sat down in the chair at Malfoy's desk and tried to think of the best way to handle the predicament they were in.

He was distracted momentarily by three letters sitting next to the empty vials of Laethelixir; they were addressed to Draco's mum, to someone called Mitchell Bennett, and, surprisingly, to himself. Harry noticed curiously that there wasn't a letter for Draco's father, and wondered if he had been emitted intentionally, or if Draco had run out of time. He wanted to read the letter with his name on it more than anything, mostly just to understand Draco's thought process after their conversation at the cottage, but knew that it wasn't his decision whether or not that letter was opened. He would let Draco choose whether he wanted Harry to read it when he was back to his normal self.

Harry looked around the room once more, his head swimming when he tried to assess the amount of illegal contraband contained in this room. He would have to find a way to get rid of it somehow; he couldn't just leave Draco to pawn it off so that something like this could happen all over again. Harry sat at the desk for the next several hours and began to devise a plan, scribbling on the parchment left there until he could no longer hear the chatter from the bar downstairs.

Draco slept soundlessly through the evening and into the night, and by the time the morning sun began to filter in through the window over the desk, Harry had finally figured out what it was he needed to do.