A/N: Wow, I can't believe it's been a month. Sorry this took so long! Life, uni, work; the cycle never ends. In other news, I found out recently that a friend of mine went to a talk where one of the panelists was a guy doing his PhD on slash fanfiction. I did not know people did PhDs on slash fanfiction and I found this quite fascinating. And it somehow seemed relevant to share with you. (So, you know, if you're planning on doing a PhD and you're stuck on a thesis... well.) It also reminded me that I haven't updated this fic for a while.

Anywho, here's the next chapter!

Toting two large boxes of pizza under one arm, Harry stood outside the basement door for a good five minutes before it was finally opened.

Sirius's expression, when he finally emerged, was one of barely concealed irritation mingled with ecstatic excitement. It made for a very odd combination. Harry stepped backwards as his godfather came out into the hallway, closed the door behind him, and promptly turned what he was sure Sirius meant to be a look of murder on him but which effect was ruined because his godfather couldn't quite stop the corner of his mouth from crooking up into a smile.

"I swear to Merlin, Harry, you have the worse timing a bloke could ask for," Sirius hissed.

Feeling like he had missed a large chunk of information, he whispered back, "What did I do?"

If Sirius hadn't looked so torn, Harry would have laughed at the dramatic expressions battling for dominance on his face. Finally all he said was, "Nothing. Just interrupted us talking, that's all."

He was obviously lying, but Harry decided to address the other question on his mind first. "Why are we whispering?"

That made Sirius pause for a moment. Then wordlessly, he gestured for Harry to head back up the stairs. It wasn't until they reached the kitchen that Sirius spoke again at a normal volume.

"Didn't want to disturb Remus. I don't think he wants anyone to see him at the moment, he looks—well," Sirius lounged on a kitchen chair, resting a leg on the chair next to it, casually flipping up the lid of one of the pizza boxes. "I think he still looks gorgeous, but he is a bit scratched up." He winked at Harry and took a big bite of pizza. "Hey, this is really good. What topping is it?"

Harry watched the slice of pizza rapidly disappear. Something wasn't quite clicking here. "It's just plain cheese."

"Really?" Sirius laughed. "Wow, we gotta order from this place again."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I've been ordering from the same place for months."

"Really? That's amazing." Sirius reached for another slice.

He scrutinized his godfather. "Are you alright?"

"What? Of course I am. I told you, I only got a few scratches—"

"No, not that. You're grinning like an idiot. I haven't seen you smile for this long since—well, since you got back. And you've never commented on the pizza before."

"Well, this is really good—"

"—Pizza, yeah I get it." Harry tapped one foot impatiently on the ground. "What's going on?"

Sirius reached for his third slice of pizza, trying and failing to keep his face impassive even as his lips twitched into a grin all on its own. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He narrowed his eyes.

OK, Potter. Try and think like Hermione. Look at Sirius. Eyes shining, cheeks flushed, hand shaking slightly, probably couldn't wipe that smile off his face even if I hexed him…

There was really only one possible reason.

"What happened with you and Remus?"

Sirius almost choked on a bite of pizza. "What?"

"Oh, come on." Now completely positive he was right, Harry took a slice of pizza for himself before it completely disappeared—Sirius seemed to have suddenly gained enough of an appetite for three—and sat down on the kitchen chair opposite Sirius. "It's so obvious."

"It really must be if even you can see it."

"Hey!" He said indignantly.

His godfather merely smiled serenely and took another bite of his pizza.

"Come on, what did I interrupt?" Harry said, tilting his chair on two legs as he leaned forward.

Sirius managed to hold out for another minute before giving in. "Oh, fine. You really want to know?"

He raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"My dear godson," Sirius said, throwing his non-pizza-wielding hand outwards theatrically, "you interrupted what could have been a very, very good snog."

Harry let out a yelp as his chair tipped and he landed in a heap on the floor.

Sirius took another bite of his pizza and laughed.

###

"They snogged?"

"That's what he said."

"Honestly?"

"Yep. Well, actually he said it could have been a very good snog."

"So did they snog or what?"

"Well…"

"Boys."

Harry and Ron, situated in two armchairs by the fireplace, turned mid-conversation and looked around at a frazzle-haired Hermione, who was in the middle of scribbling out notes on a sheet of paper. She had on her best McGonagall-scowl. "Are you going to help me or not? Visiting St Mungo's was your idea, Harry. While I'm sure Remus and Sirius would highly appreciate the fact that you're discussing their relationship developments, it's been three days and nothing has happened since then."

"That we know of," Ron corrected. He turned back to Harry. "But how'd it happen?"

"He said it was after the transformation, when he was nursing Remus's wounds—"

"Okay, okay, enough!" Ron, face now slightly green, held up both hands. "I don't need the mental picture, thanks."

Hermione shuffled a stack of papers louder than necessary. "Harry talks to Sirius everyday, he'd know if something new had happened."

Looking thoughtful, Harry swung his legs up to rest on the coffee table from where he was sitting. "Not necessarily true—Sirius would probably manage to shut up about it if Remus asked him. Although I actually don't think they've seen each other since that night," he added, frowning. "I think Remus told him not to visit, it's too dangerous."

"And Tonks is going over today," Ron said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"

Ron shrugged, the tips of his ears turning pink. "I—er—heard Mum mention it to Dad."

"Oh honestly Ronald, just throw those Extendable Ears away. It's rude to eavesdrop." Hermione said, voice prickly as the stack of papers in front of her magically sorted themselves into three piles.

Ron's tone was one of indignant protest. "But that's the point of them!"

"Could we please," she snapped, raising her voice an octave, "get on with this plan? We're going to St Mungo's tomorrow."

Harry sighed, pulling himself off the sofa and joining Hermione on the other side of the room on the floor. She was tapping a quill against her chin, frowning. "What are you doing?"

She threw him a look. "Coming up with a plan."

"Why do we need a plan?" Ron asked, still lounging on the sofa. "Aren't we just going to ask about Malfoy?"

"Yes, but we need a strategy."

Ron rolled off the sofa and joined them, crossing his legs under him next to Hermione.

"First," said Hermione briskly, "we need to come up with a reason for people to believe of the fact that we're looking for Draco Malfoy."

"What about we're just looking for him to catch up? Because we haven't seen him in a while?" Harry suggested.

Ron burst out laughing. "Oh come on, Harry. No one in the wizarding world would believe that."

Harry scowled.

"I was thinking," Hermione interjected, as Harry opened his mouth, "that we could say we found something of his and wanted to return it. Perhaps a textbook with his name on it that we found when we last visited Hogwarts, and we've decided to return it as a kind gesture."

"But why would we? We're trying to make amends?" Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Why not? The war is over, and we're trying to move on. Form new friendships with old enemies. Anyway, Malfoy isn't really technically an enemy."

Ron muttered something under his breath that Harry was glad he couldn't hear.

"I don't want to know what you said, Ronald," Hermione said peevishly. "Now, let's talk about how we're going to do this."

"I thought we would just walk up to the main desk and ask," said Harry.

"Of course not," Hermione said, switching back to a brisk tone. "Now, I've outlined a plan here"—she tapped her quill on the piece of paper directly in front of her—"and only one of us should talk to the person at the main desk, on the off chance that Malfoy really did leave some sort of address or location for people to find him—although I think that's highly unlikely. One person will be talking to the nurses, and the other will be asking around the patients."

Harry studied the piece of paper, brows furrowing. "That won't draw any attention at all."

"Well, we'd have to be discreet about it, obviously."

Ron grinned. "Fat chance of that. We're all Gryffindors here."

His smile wavered under Hermione's glare.

"I'm just joking, joking," he said hurriedly. "Of course we can be discreet. Right, Harry? I'll take the main desk. Just, er, to be safe."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Alright Harry. I think you should take the nurses."

"Why?"

"Because you're Harry Potter. Find some young female nurses, act relatively like a normal human being and you're sure to be able to get something."

Harry flushed. "Er—okay. Although this has never worked before."

Ron was looking at Hermione, expression slightly disgruntled. "Why won't I have the same effect?"

"Because you're taking the main desk," said Hermione firmly, in clear tones of I-am-not-getting-into-a-nonsensical-argument-with- you-right-now. "Now, we'll set out at ten tomorrow morning, and we should be done by lunch, so that's just in time for you, Harry."

"Just in time for what?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "For your date with Ginny. She told me yesterday you two were having lunch tomorrow." The McGonagall-scowl was starting to make its reappearance. "Did you forget?"

"No, no, no," Harry said hastily, feeling warning vibes coming from both Ron and Hermione. "Just slipped my mind for a second. Right. Lunch with Ginny." He smiled, feeling his intestines tighten, and wished that it wasn't so forced.

###

After three days, the wounds still hurt like when they were new. Remus winced as Teddy inadvertently kicked the bandage wrapped around his abdomen, and shifted his son to his other arm. "Easy, Teddy," he murmured. "Daddy's a bit broken at the moment."

He heard the buzzer ring downstairs and sighed. He had, so far, managed to avoid visitors – it hadn't been too hard considering he rarely had any. Harry, Ron and Hermione had sent numerous patronuses and messages to check up on him, but had otherwise respected his privacy. Tonks seemed to have vanished entirely, and he hadn't yet had the energy to get in contact. And Sirius he had managed to dissuade from returning on the grounds that it was too dangerous.

Sirius.

He sighed, making his way down the stairs slowly to ease the pain shooting up his right calf. Three days of thinking had gotten him absolutely nowhere. His mind refused to take a stand and he was left in a confused mental heap. There had been absolutely no doubt that it was still there – it being the thing that he and Sirius had once shared, the thing they had discovered in their sixth year at Hogwarts that had never really gone away, no matter what circumstances or events occurred. He was just a bit amazed at that, although a part of him was also completely unsurprised. His own feelings he knew had always been there, only buried. But now things were more complicated.

The buzzer sounded again. Remus took the last step and called out roughly, "Coming." He shifted Teddy slightly again before reaching the front door and pulling it open. He froze when he saw who it was.

It took him a few seconds to get his mouth working.

"Dora," he managed. "How are you?"

Tonks stood on the other side, pink hair seeming to glow under pale sunlight. She looked far better than the last time he saw her. The hesitant smile on her lips, however, faded when she saw him. "Remus! What on earth happened to you?"

He had avoided looking in the mirror, and winced as he imagined what the sight of him looked like. "Full moon," he said, without thinking.

Tonks stared at him. "But you never get so scratched up anymore because of the Wolfsbane."

There was a pregnant pause as Remus realized the implication of what he had just said. He opened his mouth, hoping for a logical explanation to reveal itself before Tonks jumped to conclusions, but it was too late.

Tonks's face was developing to a shade that matched her hair. "Don't tell me you forgot to take the Wolfsbane and transformed into a werewolf with our nine-month-old son in the house."

He didn't say anything. He didn't get the chance; she took one look at his face and marched into the house past him, inadvertently—or perhaps it was intentionally—nudging him hard in the side in the process. He grimaced and sucked in a breath, glancing down at his son who was now staring at him with wide eyes that seemed to say, you're in trouble, daddy.

"Know-it-all," Remus grumbled. He closed the front door behind him and half walked, half hobbled into the kitchen where Tonks had poured herself a glass of water.

"Dora," he said, easing himself into a kitchen chair and carefully balancing Teddy on his lap. "Of course I didn't just leave Teddy alone. I had S—" He cut himself short abruptly. "—Harry. Harry was here." He juggled Teddy up and down a little too vigorously in an attempt to make his slip of tongue seem completely natural. "He took Teddy back to his place."

"Well, thank Merlin you haven't lost all your senses." Tonks said. And there it is again, thought Remus. That bitter resentfulness that's clouded our home for the past year.

Anger welled up.

"I'm doing fine, by the way," he snapped. "Thanks for asking."

Tonks inhaled, her grip around her glass tightening in the minutest motion. "Why didn't you ask me to get Teddy?"

Remus knew her well enough by now to know when she was trying to hide her feelings. She was hurt. His anger evaporated as he panicked silently, wondering what excuse he could give. He entertained the thought of saying, Well, Dora, I actually completely forgot about it. I don't know what came over me. It was actually Sirius Black—yes, he's back from the dead, by the way—who came to remind me and he stayed with me in his illegal, unregistered Animagus form throughout my transformation to calm me down. That's why I didn't ask you.

Tonks was looking at him now. "I'm his mother, Remus. You can't just push me out of his life because we're separated."

It was the first time either of them had acknowledged it out loud to each other as fact. Taking a firm grip of his own emotions, Remus said with honest sincerity, "I'm sorry. It really didn't occur to me."

The disbelief that flashed in her eyes told him he wasn't making the situation any better.

"And Harry was already here," he added hastily. "He was—we were having tea when I remembered. So I just asked him to take Teddy with him, it seemed better to get him out of the house as soon as possible."

That got through to her. Tonks's features softened a little. She drew out a chair and sat down, reaching across to take Teddy. "Alright. I—yes. That makes sense. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, I should have thought of you."

There was a slightly awkward silence as the both looked at each other, then Remus stood up. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." Tonks cradled her son, dropping a kiss onto Teddy's temple. "We have to sort this out, Remus. Schedules. Who gets Teddy when and where. How this is going to work."

Remus poured hot water into two mugs with teabags. "You've been doing a lot of thinking."

"Yes."

He carried the two mugs over and set one down in front of her, trying to pinpoint his own feelings. "So… that's it, then?" He said finally.

Tonks looked at him. "What?"

"That's it?" He looked at his son, nestled peacefully now in his mother's arms. "It's definitely over?"

When Tonks didn't reply, he looked up. She was gazing at him, and he couldn't quite read the emotion in her eyes. Pity? Sadness? Understanding?

All of the above?

"It's been over for a while, Remus."

She spoke gently, but her words seemed to take all the air out of his lungs. He felt like he had been punched hard in the gut. There was a finality to her words that he had been holding off, that he had managed to avoid seeing, but that was now laid bare before him.

It's been over for a while, Remus.

He had been trying to hold on. He had thought they could give it another go, try one more time.

It's been over for a while, Remus.

And, silently, she seemed to be asking him: but didn't you know?

The answer was deep inside him, carved out with a knife. He let out a long breath. "Yes."

###

St Mungo's was buzzing. Harry stood at the side of a corridor on the floor of Potions and Plant Poisoning, attempting to blend in, and with every second that passed his mind seemed to be screaming louder: why did I come up with this idea?

He hated this place. He hated the whitewashed walls, the milky looking floor, the harsh silver steel of the trolleys as they were wheeled past. He hated the memories associated with the beds, the recollections of the night Voldemort had died, looking at the corpses that were pushed in and pushed out again, healers shaking their heads, clasping dying hands at bedsides.

He shook his head vigorously, trying to clear it.

A tinkling voice on his right pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Excuse me—I'm sorry if I'm being rude, but are you Harry Potter?"

Harry turned to see a petite, blond looking girl dressed in a pale blue nurse's uniform. She was gazing at him with wide eyes, he could almost see stars swirling in her irises.

Hermione was right. Again.

"Er, yes, that's me." He tried to flash her an impressive, easy smile, not sure if he accomplished it or not. But she straightened up and smiled brightly in return.

"Oh my!" She let out a squeal and before Harry could react, she threw her arms around him. His mind immediately panicking, Harry stood stiffly before raising an arm to awkwardly hug her in return.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't meant to just throw myself on you," she pulled back, slightly breathless, eyes shining. "But I think you're amazing. I'm Belinda."

Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes. They were clammy. "Um, that's alright," he said, wishing that Hermione had given him a potion that could make him act like the suave hero this girl was obviously expecting him to be.

"Why are you here? Are you—oh, no," Belinda's eyes widened. "Is someone you know here? Are they sick? Who is it? A relative of yours? Oh, is it that Muggle cousin that you have?"

It took Harry a moment to realize she was talking about Dudley, who he hadn't seen since he had left Privet Drive at the end of his sixth year summer holidays. He decided not to mention the fact that a Muggle couldn't possibly be in a wizarding hospital. "No," he said quickly. "I—actually, I'm here looking for a friend." He gave her another hopeful grin.

It seemed to work. She tilted her head and gave him a pretty smile. "Who is it? Maybe I can help."

Harry crossed his fingers and toes. "Draco Malfoy?"

The surprise on her face was evident. It was a known fact by now that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter weren't the best of friends. He shuffled. "I - er, found his textbook..." He began.

It turned out he didn't need to bother. The girl seemed to simply accept the fact without explanation and had already started talking over him. "Oh, he left weeks ago," she exclaimed. "Didn't you know?"

"I—no," Harry said, faking surprise. "He left? Why?"

The girl shrugged. She leaned in and Harry bent down obligingly as she whispered in his ear: "People say it's because he's… you know."

"A Death Eater? He was never one. And he switched sides." He stopped, momentarily surprised by the defensiveness in his own voice.

The girl blinked at him. "Oh, no! Not that. The other thing." She seemed slightly confused now.

"What other thing?"

"You don't know?" This seemed to delight her. "It was one of the biggest pieces of gossip going around a few weeks ago."

Harry was becoming rapidly sick of Belinda. "Know what?" He asked, careful to keep his voice at a tone of polite inquiry while maintaining a pleasant smile. He wished he had jumped in before Ron and gotten the role at the main desk.

The girl took a deep breath. "Draco Malfoy," she announced., "likes men."

That had not been what he was expecting.

Harry stared at her, mouth agape, as what she said sank in. "Wait. Malfoy's gay?"

She nodded, eyes bugging. Harry involuntarily took a step back; she was beginning to look slightly deranged—he recognized too well the hungry look that women took on whenever they sensed gossip. He tried to process this new piece of information as Belinda nattered on.

"I mean, it seemed obvious. But no one really talked about it, you know? And he never said a word. Then Sarah caught him with Mike McDonald in the cupboard down the hall…"

Questions were buzzing like flies in Harry's head, but he forced himself to concentrate. He needed now, more than ever, to know where Malfoy was. If only just to rub the fact that Malfoy had been caught doing Merlin-knows-what in a cupboard with a guy who sounded like someone from a Muggle children's song.

"Do you know where he is now, Belinda?" He asked.

She squealed. "Oh, you said my name! I don't know, actually. I just know he left. Someone told me he's still in London somewhere, I don't remember who." She frowned. "Jody? No… Millicent! No, wasn't her, either…"

Harry decided he'd had enough. "You know what, Belinda? That's okay. I'll find him. I, er, just remembered I have a very important meeting to get to, so, you know…" He started sidling away. "Uh, nice meeting you!" He turned and took to his heels before he could hear anything else.

Rounding the corner, he caught sight of Hermione interrogating a frightened looking wizard lying in one of the perfectly made beds of the ward. Her hands were on her hips, and her lips were pursed. Harry recognized the determined stance. He felt slightly sorry for the patient.

Another hour of wandering the halls got him nothing but lots of giggling girls who had absolutely no idea where Malfoy had gone. Word of Harry Potter walking in the corridors on the third floor spread like wildfire and soon he found himself becoming surrounded. Deciding that he couldn't take any more, he slunk into a closet at the end of the corridor. It was the cleaning supply cupboard, and sitting on top of a bucket, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He found himself wondering if this was the cupboard that Malfoy had gotten caught in.

He checked his watch. It was almost noon which, according to Hermione's plan, meant that it was time to regroup. He started to push the cupboard door open before he paused, then reaching for his wand he quickly disillusioned himself. He wished that he'd brought the cloak, but it would have to do.

As he ducked back through the corridor, a group of Healers came striding towards him. He swerved into the nearest ward, pressing himself against the wall to avoid another nurse. To his annoyance, the Healers all turned into the same ward, forcing him to go in deeper. He crouched beside the bedside table of a patient and waited for the Healers to pass.

Breathing in, he frowned as a familiar scent hit his nostrils. It was a stench he knew only too well. Someone in the ward was using Polyjuice Potion.

Even as one part of his mind computed the implications of this, the other side was coming up with explanations: this was, after all, the Potions Poisoning floor. There could easily be a patient in here because of a Polyjuice Potion gone wrong.

But that nagging feeling in his gut was back.

The Healers moved on. Harry took a sweeping glance of the patients in the ward: there were ten in all, and none of them looked familiar to him. Deciding that he couldn't do anything about it now without raising suspicions, he ducked back out into the corridor to the main entrance where he could find a safe place to Disapparate.

Back at Grimmauld Place, Ron and Hermione were already waiting outside his front door, bickering, when he appeared. He headed up the path towards them, snatches of their conversation reaching his ears.

"You were flirting with the nurse at the front desk, Ron, don't deny it—"

"Well, you said you wanted to try and get results! I was just trying all the possibilities—"

"There were a million other ways to get answers without flirting—"

"What, as in terrorizing them like you did?"

"Hey!" Harry called, just as Hermione looked as though she was ready to clobber Ron about the head. "Anything?"

Hermione turned her back on Ron, facing him. "No, nothing," she said. "You?"

He shook his head. "Just a lot of giggling girls," he grumbled. He thought he heard Ron mumble, "Ginny'll be pleased to hear that."

Hermione let out a loud sigh. "Then we're back where we've started, Harry."

Determined not to be beaten, Harry headed up the front steps of his house. "We'll come up with something, 'Mione. But I've got ten minutes before my lunch date now so I might take a shower. I smell like potions." He took a whiff of his shirt and grimaced. Pulling out his house keys, he led the way inside. "Oh, by the way," he said over his shoulder, "I have to tell you something. When I was in one of the wards, I thought I smelled—"

"Looking for me, Potter?"

Harry stopped short, hearing identical gasps of surprise behind him as Ron and Hermione came to a halt as well.

The voice was the all too familiar drawl that Harry had been secretly hoping to hear for the past week. Slowly, Harry rounded the corner and paused at the doorway of his kitchen, taking in the scene.

Sitting at his kitchen table like he owned it, holding Harry's favorite green cup in one hand and looking unbearably smug, was Draco Malfoy.

So, part of this story has taken a turn in an unexpected direction. I hope none of you dislike Malfoy, cause he might be popping up quite a bit more...

Also, I have no idea if St Mungo's actually have nurses. In my memory I only recall Healers being mentioned, but I'm assuming they do. Anyway, they do here. And I apologize for the fact that I put absolutely no effort into Belinda's character, I know I completely generically Mary-Sued her, but she won't appear again.

This is going slowly but surely, people. Bear with me, and review! Thanks for all the support so far, you are all amazing. :)