Chapter Summary: Harry battles with his subconscious while Draco poses some interesting questions.

AN: Another quick update! I'm on a roll! This week will likely be a tad slower as my vacation is ending. But still going to keep working at it. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

After the Rain Falls
Chapter 3: Go Out on a Limb

The date had completely snuck up on him. In fact, he'd nearly forgotten about it entirely, until he got a letter on his breakfast plate in the morning with a reminder that the clean-up portion of The Room of Requirement Restoration Charity Project was taking place that very day. Hermione received one as well, and she held it up with a nod of confirmation. Clearly she hadn't forgotten.

Harry picked up the red envelope slowly, staring down at it as he nibbled on his lower lip. Now that it was time, he wasn't sure if he was ready.

"You don't have to go," Hermione uttered, staring at him worriedly from across the table.

"I want to," he spoke back. And it was true. He did want to. It was just going to be…difficult to face. His gaze lifted and he peered across the Great Hall, watching as Draco picked up a similar letter and stared at it just as apprehensively. At least he wasn't the only one having second thoughts.

Ron received a letter as well, but in a different colour envelope, and Hermione leaned across the table to sneak a glance. "You didn't sign up?" She asked, holding out her own red envelope curiously.

"No thanks, not for me," Ron sputtered around a mouthful of food. Hermione grimaced and sat back down. Ron swallowed and wiped his face on a napkin, sitting up a bit straighter. "I've had my share of weird artefacts for one lifetime," he added. "There's a gardening project at the Greenhouses today. I'm no good at it, but Neville, Seamus, and Dean will be there, so…I thought I'd give them a hand."

"Then we'll see you tonight?" Hermione said with a smile. She leaned fully across the table, pressing a kiss to Ron's cheek, and then beckoned Harry to join her with several quick hand waves. They were supposed to be at the room by 9:00 am, and it was already quarter to.

The two of them scurried through the hallways, jumping onto a staircase that had already started to move. It was the quickest way there though, and by the time they reached the tapestry across the way on the seventh floor there was under a minute to spare. A small crowd of students was already lingering in the hallway, and then Professor Brindlemore appeared, long cloak billowing in her wake. Professor Flitwick strolled along behind her quickly, clearly struggling to match her swift stride. She was not unkind, but still very no nonsense, and spoke up immediately after pausing in front of the barricade between the Room of Requirement and the rest of the castle.

"Let's make quick work of this, shall we?" she said, hands clasped gently to her wand in front of her body. "There will be several bins located near the front of The Room of Hidden Things for sorting purposes. Please ensure you place each item in the correct one." She paused, looking out at all of them intently. "Do not be discouraged if most of what you find cannot be salvaged. This is to be expected. Simply cast it safely into the magical contamination rubbish bin. If you are unsure about an item's worth, Professor Flitwick will be at the front of the room, ready to inspect and answer any questions. If you are unsure about the volatility of an item, or do not know what an item is, ask for help before attempting to touch it. Remember your counter curses, and your shield spells. Do not work alone."

Draco strolled smoothly into the crowd then with Pansy at his side. Draco's shoulders were somewhat hunched, but it did little to hide his tall frame, and as he met Draco's gaze, Harry jerked and turned his head away quickly, suddenly embarrassed to be caught looking.

"Now, are we all ready?" Professor Brindlemore spared a few seconds in case any questions arose, but after no one moved to comment she turned slightly, beckoning to the entrance of the room. "Good. Please show your confirmation letters to Professor Flitwick upon entry, and follow me." Her arms lifted up then, and circled in a series of very complicated movements, and the area cleared of all blockages before a shimmering door appeared and rippled in front of the wall. She wasted no time, immediately walking through it like a shadow slinking into the darkness.

Harry and Hermione followed the long line of students, only hesitating for a second as they crossed through the mysterious new entrance. The sight they were met with on the other side was jarring.

Though the smoke and flames were long gone, the ashes and destruction left behind were a quick reminder of all that had occurred in the room. The large stacks of books were now mounds of dust and rubble, most of the remaining artefacts were now skeletal bits of metal, broken or melted into unrecognizable blobs. Harry swallowed nervously, almost afraid at what else they might encounter hidden in the winding maze of demolition.

"Come on, let's…find a corner and get started," Hermione uttered, her voice deceivingly calm. Harry could tell she was just as bothered by the way her fingers clutched her wand. The two of them made their way into one of the far corners of the room in the hopes of working away from the prying eyes of the bulk of the students. Most of their effort was put towards cleaning away debris, though they paused on occasion to study the odd item that still remained partially intact.

"Tsk, such a waste," Hermione muttered, as she tugged a large tome out of one of the stacks. The spine sagged as several of the pages disintegrated before her eyes, the remainder charred black and unreadable. Harry meandered around, startling when he caught his own reflection looking back at him from several pieces of stray glass on the floor. He stepped closer, looking down into some of them, noticing the remnants of an ornate frame. Harry let out a slight gasp, bending low to study it further. There was no mistake, it was The Mirror of Erised! Or what was left of it anyway. He looked away immediately, unwilling to stare into his reflection and see all of his deepest desires reflected back at him a million times over. He wondered briefly if it was fixable, and if so, should it be fixed at all?

Footsteps dragged across the floor behind him, and Harry whipped his head around, standing when he noticed Draco looking down at him sombrely. The two of them faced each other, and Harry wanted to say something, what, he wasn't quite sure. But then Draco glanced beyond him and spoke before he had the chance. "Afraid of your own reflection, Potter?"

Harry huffed, but didn't argue it, watching as Draco walked closer to the broken mirror and looked down at it without concern. He likely had no idea what it was at all.

"What do you see?" Harry asked suddenly, and then Draco peered down at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Just us, what else?" he said. Harry frowned, and Draco gave him an odd look, likely wondering if he'd gone mad. Harry twisted back around, finally looking directly at the mirror's remnants. He stepped closer, staring at the many identical reflections, and was surprised to see the same. The two of them standing side by side and looking directly back out. Harry met Draco's gaze in the mirror, stood there studying it while Draco stared right back.

"Draco! Over here!"

The two of them jerked out of their daze, looking to the left where Pansy was peeking around between several stacks of half destroyed tapestries. She waved at Draco, beckoning him over impatiently.

Draco sighed and spared Harry one last glance, before shaking his head and turning to walk away, and Harry watched him go, blinking at his back as he disappeared further in the room. Harry's chin lowered, and he looked down at his feet, deep in thought. The mirror's magic must have been destroyed when the glass had broken. It only made sense. But what if…

Harry turned to the side slightly, peering towards the glass out of the corner of his eyes. He could look again. One more time. Just to make sure. He didn't know why he was so afraid it. It had to be broken, right?

His fingers itched at the thought of it, clenching tightly into fists, and he kept his head turned away.

The bazaar was a significantly more enjoyable event than the clean-up portion of things, located near a bustling wizarding community on the island of Mykonos in Greece. The Hogwarts booth was stuck in the middle of a large cluster of interesting magical tents with goods for sale. They'd taken an advanced Portkey to get there. Just five students along with Professor Slughorn, who was unsurprisingly very good at convincing prospective buyers to purchase their wares. Harry spent quite some time wandering through the assortment of tents, perusing the interesting variety of things for sale. There were home made goods, by artisans from all over the world. Sweets and treats he'd never seen the like of before. There were several things that he felt ought to be illegal as well, but he simply kept his distance from them, watching with a careful eye. It was like the first time he'd walked into Diagon Alley. Overcome by the sheer grandeur of all things magical. The crowds were a bit overwhelming at times, but Harry hid himself behind the merchant table in their tent whenever it became too much, focusing on helping with sales instead of shopping.

Hermione was absolutely in her element, having found a used book booth at which she'd spent far too much money but seemingly didn't regret it one bit. She sat in the corner of their tent, book open in her lap while Harry watched over the sales table with Draco of all people. Professor Slughorn had decided to do some shopping himself with the two sixth years that had joined them, leaving the three of them back alone.

At current there were just a few customers roaming their merchandise. One who already looked to have purchased quite a few things and was struggling to keep various vials balanced in their arms. Another was turning various trinkets on their hooks and looking at them closer, even going so far as to pull out some kind of intricate magnifying glass for an in depth look. The third seemed less interested, but did pause to read the sign they had posted describing the charity they were raising money for.

It was fairly hot, and Harry sighed as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Even Draco looked uncomfortable, his cloak long abandoned, sleeves rolled up above his elbows. He kept brushing his hair back and it clung together in sweaty strands, sticking to the side of his face whenever it fell back down. His shirt looked as though it was clinging to him uncomfortably, based on the way he kept tugging it off his skin.

A chorus of laughter echoed in as a group of witches walked past their tent, and Harry's eyes shifted towards the sound. He followed them for a moment, and then the wizard closely inspecting goods plucked one free and walked over to make a purchase. Draco took the man's money before passing the item to Harry to wrap up. It was as he was rolling paper around it that the witch carrying far too much shrieked loudly, and Harry looked up in time to see her tripping into one of the tent posts. The stack of vials fell out of her arms and crashed atop the ground. There was a sudden explosion, shards of glass flying every which way throughout the tent and knocking into items on the way. Several loud bangs followed not shortly behind and Harry faltered, watching as the area around him erupted into a series of brightly coloured sparks. He jolted as something flew past his face, and his eyes widened when he saw a flash of green, vision blurring as he felt his throat constrict in terror.

Someone pushed him down to the ground, and he curled up in a ball, covering his ears when a series of loud crashes knocked the sales table back into him. Several screams sounded around him and he froze. He remembered curses flying, crippling pain. Watching Sirius falling through the veil. Hedwig, frozen mid flight, dropping limply to the ground. Professor Dumbledore's lifeless eyes as his body floated over the edge of the castle wall. The air was filling with smoke, and Harry choked on it. He heard someone shouting, a spell being cast, and then Harry pulled out his wand with shaking hands. He had to do something. It was his responsibility to put an end to it all. To stop the war. He pointed it blindly, tried to make himself form the words of a spell, any spell at all. But he couldn't focus his thoughts, and a burst of magic shot from the end of his wand, knocking out the leg of the table above and passing through it to the other side.

Someone was yelling, and his throat felt as though it was tearing apart. He was panicking, chest heaving as his breaths came faster and shorter.

Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't breathe.

Someone yanked him back and he startled and lifted his wand again, and then a hand settled against his chest. There was a spell muttered at the side of his ear, and in an instant, everything calmed. The tension in his entire body eased. His chest relaxed, his throat opened, and he felt his limbs go limp against whoever was holding on to him. The noises around him muted, and he could hear waves, slowly crashing into a shore, rain pattering on leaves rustling in the wind. His vision went white at the edges, and he could only see directly ahead.

"Breathe," someone whispered. "Just breathe."

Harry blinked, and fingers dragged through his hair, lifting his head. Draco was staring at him, shining a soft light into his eyes from the tip of his wand. "It was a bad chemical reaction, that's all," he said. "You're safe."

"S-safe," Harry stuttered, his thoughts focusing on the rhythmic echoes of nature in his mind. His hand loosened, and his wand dropped from his grip. He was shaking now, still on edge after the throes of a panic attack, and he flinched as reality came crashing back down. The sounds of the crowd were suddenly loud and grating to his ears, and he could see people bustling about, casting various spells as they righted displays and fixed broken items around the tent. Professor Slughorn had returned at some point, and he was doing his best to settle down the overly apologetic witch who had dropped her items, while Hermione held some kind of containment spell around the blast area, preventing it from doing further damage for the time being.

Draco knelt in front of him, fingers pressed into the pulse point of Harry's wrist. "Potter, count backwards from twenty."

Harry swallowed around the tightness in his throat, coughing briefly. He was handed water, and took a careful sip before he started.

"T-twenty, nineteen, ei-eighteen-," Harry mumbled. He stopped briefly, staring down at Draco's fingers on his skin.

"Keep going."

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued. When he finished, Draco released his wrist, and Harry met his gaze, feeling a little less like the world was collapsing beneath him.

The following night Harry's dreams were filled with the deepest and darkest terrors of his memories.

He watched Sirius fall through the veil a million times over in his nightmares. He grieved over the people he couldn't save, and the ones he would inevitably hurt in the future. He watched the skin of his fingers crumble and fall away, while his skeleton clasped onto a wand he couldn't control, consumed by the darkness inside his own mind. He saw Voldemort's snake-like face, laughing at him, mocking him, the hoarse sound echoing within his mind.

He was awoken with a jolt in the midst of the early morning hours, and spent the rest of the night staring listlessly into the shadows while he twisted his fingers in the blankets over his chest.

The Daily Prophet dropped from an owl's talons mid meal, and Harry scrambled to stop its descent before it knocked the contents of his plate across the entire table. He untwisted the twine about it sleepily, chewing on a piece of bacon absentmindedly. He was incredibly tired, having hardly slept for the duration of the week. He wouldn't have even gotten out of bed so early to begin with had he not already made plans to research in the library during his free period.

Harry poked at some eggs with his fork, leaning down to bite them as the newspaper rolled open atop the table, and then he practically choked on the food in his mouth as he caught sight of the front page headline. The Boy Who Lived Gone Mad. He dropped his fork with a clatter, pressing his fingers down on the parchment as he leaned close to read the article.

An unidentified source at St. Mungo's had spoken out about his underlying health issues, claiming that the war had changed him, that he could very well be the next big threat to the wizarding world. It was accompanied by a photo of him that had to have been taken at the bazaar. Whoever had captured it had skilfully caught the moment a pot smashed apart in front of his eyes. The photo stopped moving at just the right second, the reflection in his glasses making him look completely insane. Harry stared at it in disbelief.

It was as though his very nightmares were coming true. And the worst part of it all was that he couldn't even argue the claim. He hadn't been able to control himself at all. He had cast a spell carelessly into a crowd of people, with no awareness whatsoever. He could have seriously harmed someone. All because he was terrified of a non-existent threat. What if next time he hit someone for real? What if he killed them?

"It's absolute rubbish Harry. Just ignore it," Ginny claimed, and he glanced up to see her glaring down at the article angrily. He looked at his hands doubtfully. They were shaking, even then. Had hardly stopped in recent days. His headaches occurred daily, his seizures, more frequently than ever.

What if it wasn't?

The words on the page in front of him started blurring together and Harry shifted in his seat and rubbed at his eyes blearily. Draco was sat across from him, huddled over a stack of books as he scribbled out notes at a fast pace. He was turning pages and pushing through their pile far quicker than Harry could ever hope to. It was remarkable how similar to Hermione he was in that way.

Harry stretched out the muscles in his neck and sighed, flipping the page of his own book before looking back down at it. Before he could take a single note he felt a burst of pain. It inched over his eyes, then back behind them, and Harry winced as it felt like someone was stabbing him in the back of the skull.

"Augh-," he gasped as his head fell to the table. He clasped at it, squinting and jerking along with each painful throb. There wasn't anything he could do but wait it out, and hope it was shorter than most. He was surprised when the pain eased into a gentle thrum, enough for him to sit up and notice Draco sitting there with his wand held out over the table.

"W-what'd you do?" Harry asked, rubbing idly at the back of his neck in an attempt to ease the tensed up muscles.

"Simple pain relief spell."

"Simple?" Harry muttered under his breath incredulously. He didn't know anyone else with the capability to dull his migraines. Harry stared at Draco for a moment then commented, "You…know a lot of healing spells."

"I…have an affinity for it, apparently," Draco admitted, finally lowering his wand back to the table.

"You're in that course, aren't you? The specialized mediwizard one?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco nodded, turning his attention back to their research. "Mm."

It was then that Harry noticed the large stack of medical textbooks to Draco's right. Harry had assumed all of it was research for their potion, but it was likely Draco had quite a lot of work to do for his other courses as well. He saw The Healer's Guide: The Vast Array of Magical Maladies and Advanced Spellcasting for Magical Afflictions stacked among them, and wondered what had made Draco take an interest in such a field.

"'Mione said it was pretty difficult to get into," Harry commented, and Draco shrugged.

"I'm sure she wouldn't have had any difficulty had she wanted to, with her grades," he drawled.

"Still bitter?"

"I'm over it."

Harry studied him, pressing his chin into the palm of his hand as he rested his elbow atop the table. Strangely, he could picture Draco working as a healer. He was clearly capable of remaining calm in the midst of chaos. He'd been the one to work Harry down from his panic, hadn't he? Harry supposed that working beneath the pressure of a dark lord and surrounded by unstable death eaters could do that to a person. Severus Snape had been very much the same.

He tried to imagine Draco working amongst the other healers at St. Mungo's, and though it was difficult to picture him wearing the signature robes and treating others with care, he'd probably be better than most at actually healing. Harry could see him taking each case seriously, working studiously until he found a solution to the problem, no matter how impossible. And now that he thought about it, Madame Pomfrey wasn't all that outwardly caring, was she?

While he was daydreaming Draco looked up from his work, peering over at him before dropping his gaze to Harry's bag atop the table. He reached out, pressing his quill tip down on the copy of the Daily Prophet sticking out from beneath the other contents and dragged it out slightly.

"Why do you bother to read that trash?" Draco asked, the distaste evident in his tone. "If any of that is true, it's a huge breach of patient confidentiality. Might as well have a subscription to the Quibbler if you want to fill your head with drivel."

"I do, actually," Harry commented, grinning at him cheekily.

Draco rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat. "You would."

Harry scratched the side of his head, gaze drifting back down towards the headline. "Honestly, the Quibbler is probably a better source of news," he muttered. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the stupid article, watching as his terrified face moved never-endingly beneath it. He must have zoned out, because it took him a moment to realize it was smoking, and Harry jerked backwards in surprise.

"Malfoy!" he hissed, eyes wide as he watched Draco set the paper on fire. They were in a library after all. Hermione would have been absolutely scandalized. But Draco controlled the spell easily, and it fizzled out as soon as the parchment crumbled to dust.

"Focus, Potter. We have to have our first batch of potential testers ready by the end of the week, remember?" Draco spat, and then he slid a new book across the table aggressively into Harry's waiting arms.

In a strange twist of events, that night Harry dreamed of the Quibbler. On the front page was an upside down photo of Draco Malfoy, wearing a polka dot suit with a garishly plaid cloak. He looked absolutely ridiculous, standing there with his arms crossed in front of his body impatiently. Harry blinked once and found himself sitting right next to him, only this time he was wearing his school shirt and trousers, ridiculous outfit nowhere to be seen. Draco unbuttoned his shirt slightly, turning to face Harry with an oddly enchanting grin.

"Mimblewimble, eh Potter?"

Harry woke up peacefully that morning, grateful to have not had a nightmare for once, though more than a little puzzled at the imagery in his head. He forgot about it entirely by the time he was dressed.

AN: Thanks again for reading!