Chapter 5: In Which a Key is Uncovered

A time to break down, and a time to build up;
- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Yawning, Harry burrowed further into his comforter, and tried to ignore whoever was shaking him so insistently.

'Go'way,' he mumbled crossly, batting at the rough hands. 'Sleeping.'

'Get up, Potter!' Malfoy yelled, practically in Harry's ear. 'I can't fucking believe you. I come all this way to help you, and you tell me to 'go'way'?'

Harry, recognising the voice, sat up. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he asked fearfully. "How did you get in?"

Malfoy sighed, and ran a hand through his (rather attractive, Harry's brain added) blue hair. "I Flooed over from the hovel your pet weasels call home, and I'm here because Pansy told me when Hogwarts started back up again."

"Oh?" Harry stretched and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Yes, Potter, and it starts today." Malfoy levelled a cold glare at Harry. "So you better haul ass to the bathroom, and get clean."

Now completely awake, Harry scrambled out of bed and rushed into the adjoining loo. "Malfoy!" he called over his shoulder as he stripped of the t-shirt he'd worn to bed. "Could you pull out a set of robes for me?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but began to root through Harry's wardrobe regardless. "Does it matter what I pick out as long as it involves robes of some sort?" he asked, turning to face Harry, who was standing in beside the tub in his pants, adjusting the temperature of the water.

"Nothing too fancy," Harry answered, hardly sparing him a glance. "Do you suppose the students will want their essays back?" With a quick glance to ensure that Malfoy wasn't watching, Harry stripped off his pants and hopped into the warm spray of the shower.

As quickly as he could, Harry washed up, and turned off the taps. As he peeked out from behind the shower curtain he realised that he hadn't thought of grabbing a towel.

'Er,' he said. 'Do you think you could hand me a towel, Malfoy? I'd get one myself, but I don't fancy giving you a free show.'

Malfoy chuckled, and got up from where he'd been sitting on Harry's bed to grab a towel from the rack beside the sink. 'I was wondering when you'd notice they were out of reach,' he admitted.

Harry snorted as he began to dry himself off. 'You were just hoping for a peek.'

'Oh?' Malfoy's tone was far too guileless for Harry's taste. 'Well, I suppose there's a good chance I'll get one soon anyway.'

'What do you mean, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

'How else are you supposed to get changed?"

Harry froze. 'Fuck.'

Malfoy laughed again. 'Oh, don't worry Potter – I don't want a free show anymore than you want to give one. I'll be downstairs forcing your house-elf to cook breakfast for the both of us. What with the walk from Hogsmede, you're not going to have time to eat in the Great Hall before you have to work.'

'Then how am I going to have time to eat here?'

'I'll have the house-elf make it to go,' Malfoy replied easily. Harry twitched the shower curtain to the side as Malfoy left the bathroom and opened the door from Harry's bedroom to the rest of his little flat. 'I'm leaving the room now,' he called over his shoulder. The door closed behind him.

Harry waited a moment to see if Malfoy would come back, but was suitably convinced that he wouldn't after a few minutes of nothing. Getting out of the shower, Harry ran a comb through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to make it behave before pulling on the clothes Malfoy had laid out on his bed and rushing to his kitchen.

"Here," Malfoy said, shoving a toasted bacon and egg sandwich into Harry's left hand, and a mug of black coffee into his right. 'Take it and go, you're nearly late. We're having lunch in The Three Broomsticks."

Nodding his thanks and assent, Harry all but ran out the front door, apparating to Hogsmede as soon his feet hit the pavement of the alleyway outside.

Harry was fortunate in that he had run into Headmistress McGonagall on his way into the school, and she had insisted on escorting the flushed and panting professor to his first class.

'How was you holiday, Mr. Potter," McGonagall asked as Harry stuffed the sandwich Malfoy had handed him into his mouth. "I hear you have a new boyfriend."

Harry nodded and swallowed. 'Hugh," he said. 'He's actually the one who got me here nearly on time today. I'd forgotten that school started up again.'

McGonagall smiled. 'And I suppose he's the one responsible for you eating a proper breakfast for once as well?'

Glancing at his half-eaten sandwich Harry nodded again, albeit more reluctantly. 'Yeah, he got me up, put me in the shower, laid out my clothes, and had breakfast ready to go by the time I was dressed.'

'He sounds like a real catch, Harry,' McGonagall said with a small smile. 'Much better than that Hufflepuff you dated a couple years back. Don't let this one go, hmm?'

Harry laughed. 'I don't think Hermione, Ginny and Fleur would ever forgive me – they're already looking at bride's maid dresses.'

McGonagall smiled once more before stopping. "I'll leave you to it then, Professor Potter," she said formally, gesturing towards the open door of the same classroom Harry remembered having many Transfigurations classes in. "Good luck in the new year."

Harry nodded, and entered the room, glad he had finished his sandwich before they'd reached the doorway. And really, the sandwich had been very thoughtful of Malfoy. Perhaps Harry would be able to persuade Malfoy to come over sometime so he could return the favour. They could start with a dinner cooked by Harry himself, and move onto a dessert in the living room. Malfoy would sit next to Harry, and the two would talk for hours before Malfoy would turn to him and say: "Harry, I want you to know that – Professor Potter?"

Harry blinked, and looked down to meet the eyes of a first year Hufflepuff. Clearing his throat, Harry sat his mug down on the desk at the front of the room, and raised a questioning eyebrow at the young boy.

"Um," said the boy. 'May I use the loo?'

Harry sighed and settled back on the desk, wondering, for the first but not last time that day, why he'd become a teacher.

Left to his own devices in Harry Potter's house, Draco did what any self-respecting Slytherin would do. He went through Potter's things.

Initially, he had had to deal with Potter's house-elf asking him uncomfortably personal questions about his and Potter's relationship, but a few well placed hexes had cleared that up.

As it turned out, Potter was remarkably boring. He had no smut rags anywhere Draco had searched, no dirty photos in any of the shoeboxes under his bed, and no sex toys in his sock drawer. It was, Draco found, quite disappointing.

He had actually thought about going home, but as noon grew nearer and nearer it seemed increasingly pointless to leave Potter's house, only to apparate to Hogsmede minutes after arriving in his own.

And that was when he found what he'd been looking for.

Or, the sort of thing he'd been looking for at least.

Tucked away at the back of one of Potter's bookshelves – who kept their wanking material out in the open like that anyway? – was an ancient copy of Playwitch.

Tucking it into his robes, Draco gave Potter's blue couches a smug smile, and left to meet Potter himself at The Three Broomsticks.

"Sorry I'm late, Malfoy," a somewhat flustered Potter said, sitting down across from Draco. The two men were seated in the back corner of The Three Broomstick, tucked out of sight. "I just had a third year Slytherin - Gryffindor class – absolute torture!"

Draco snorted and took a sip of the coffee he'd harassed the waitress into getting him. Usually, The Three Broomsticks only served tea, but he had his ways.

"Surely we weren't the awful when we were their age, Malfoy?" Potter transfigured one of his buttons back into its original form.

"We were probably worse," Draco admitted. "And don't call me Malfoy, in public I'm Hugh."

"Right, well Hugh then – have you ordered you lunch yet?" Potter picked up the one page menu from the table. "Oh good, they still have my favourite sandwich."

"The menu here hasn't changed since McGonagall was a girl, Potter," Draco sneered. "Except for the unfortunate addition of the Potter Platter," he added after a moments pause, studying his own menu. "Which is apparently your new favourite. Best get that then."

Potter wrinkled his nose. "The Potter Platter? A pulled pork sandwich, chips, a pickle and a Fizzy Whizz Pop? I don't even like pork."

"According to this you do," Draco glanced up and smiled at the waitress who was making her way to their table. "Harry."

"Harry?" Potter looked up and spotted the waitress. "Oh. Er, well I think I'll get the grilled cheese anyway, Hugh."

When the waitress arrived, she found the two men smiling tightly at one and other, and wasted not a moment before asking: "Are you ready to order? The usual, Mr. Potter?"

Draco watched amusedly as Potter turned his insincere smile on the waitress and nodded. "Please."

"And you, Mr… Er, sorry, sir. The papers don't have your name yet."

"Call me Hugh. And I'll have what he's having," he nodded in Potter's general direction. "He's been here often enough, he should know what's good and not."

The waitress smiled and walked away, but not before introducing herself as Kim.

"Did we go to school with her?" Draco asked as soon as she was out of earshot.

"No," Harry answered. "At least, I don't think so. Why?"

"Well," Draco answered, frowning. "If she's not a friend of yours then why would she introduce herself like that?"

Potter gave Draco a disbelieving look. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"Of course," Draco answered promptly. "If she'd not an old friend, why should I care enough to remember her name? It's not like she's an influential person or someone I'd like to shag anytime soon."

"She's being polite, Malfoy. You gave her your name, she gave you hers. I thought Pureblood children were educated in proper etiquette?"

"We are," Draco scoffed. "Lesson one, don't associate with commoners."

Potter made an odd noise deep in the back of his throat.

After an extremely frustrating and largely fruitless lunch with Malfoy, Harry walked back to Hogwarts and tried to ignore the feeling of dread building up within him. It had less to do with being pulled out of his own time, and more to do with seventh year Ravenclaws and a certain blue-haired bloke who was currently trudging up to Hogwarts with him.

"How long until we reach the school, Potter?" Malfoy moaned irritably.

"You tell me, Malfoy – you went here too!" Harry reminded him shortly. "Why are you coming anyway?"

"The library," Malfoy said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I need access to the Hogwart's library, and you're my ticket in. Get me a meeting with the Headmistress and a signed permission sheet Potter, that dining room is not going to solve itself."

"Of course," Harry groaned, rolling his eyes. "The library, how obvious. What makes you think I can even get your in?"

"You're Harry Potter."

"Your point being?"

"They're not going to stop Harry Potter's boyfriend from using the library as long as he goes through all the proper channels, and doesn't just burst in and deprive Ravenclaws everywhere of their lifeblood."

As they drew closer to the gates of Hogwarts, Harry's worry over his next class grew larger and larger.

"Do you think," he ventured as they entered the ground of the magnificent school. "That if we turn back now and tell everyone we shagged the day away they'd fire me?"

"No," Malfoy snorted. "Why?"

"Ravenclaws," Harry sighed. "Seventh years."

"Don't you have a lesson plan worked out, Potter? A guideline to follow?"

"Probably not. Maybe if I looked somewhere. I still wouldn't know how to properly cast any of the spells though, let alone teach them."

"So tell them to use the block as a study period. Assign research projects – just get through the day, Potter. Hopefully we'll be back to our own times soon."

Harry nodded pensively and pursed his lips. "If we're here, then where are our other selves? The versions of us that belong in this timeline?"

Malfoy shrugged. "In our timeline I would imagine. At least they know what it is they're supposed to be doing."

"How do you figure?" Harry asked as the entered the school.

"Well, they've already lived through it once, and they know we'll eventually find the solution to this problem."

"Will we?"

"It's either that or create a paradox with our future selves growing to when we switched, and then going back again forever. I doubt the universe will let time work that way, so we're sure to find an answer somewhere."

"So what are we looking for in the library?" Harry asked, paling. "I'll give my Ravenclaws the day off to do their homework, and help you in the library. That way, there's no need to go through McGonagall – we can just say that you're helping me."

Malfoy smirked. "Perfect. We'll be looking in the restricted section – languages, especially ones with runic alphabets. We can try looking up blood magic too, but I doubt there will be anything worthwhile in the books kept in Hogwarts. None of the really foul stuff at least."

"Does this count as really foul stuff, then?" Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded. "This spell could easily destroy the fabric of space and time if done incorrectly. Even a small alteration in a symbols could be deadly for the victims and inflictors of this curse."

"More than one person cast it?"

Again, Malfoy nodded. "Yes. It's too complex for any one person to pull off alone. I hope you teach in McGonagall's old room."

Harry paused a bit at this pseudo-sequitur, before taking in his surroundings and laughing. "Yes, it's my classroom now. Want to go ahead to the library? I can meet you there as soon as I've dismissed my class."

"Are you kidding?" Malfoy asked, smirking. "I want to see the great Professor Potter in action."

Harry sighed. This was going to be a long day.

Draco sat on Potter's desk as the other man dismissed his class, perfectly aware that all eyes were on him and not the obviously frustrated professor.

"Off to the library, Harry?" he questioned gleefully, seeing many of the Ravenclaws' eyes light up. "Shall we leave your class here to catch up on their homework?"

Potter shot him a grateful look as his class groaned in unison. "Sorry," Potter explained. "I've got some research to do. Hugh's helping me with it, and it'd be an even bigger help if you'd sit in here and behave while we go to the library. I know it's a double period, but you're welcome to leave halfway through. When you do, don't all rush to the library at once, please." The class giggled nervously.

"Why can't we help you with your research?" a young man from the front row asked. "He's not a professor, and he's helping you." The first 'he' was said with a surprising amount of disdain, most of which Draco attributed to his hair. Although, Draco thought reluctantly, a portion might be because of my status as Potter's boyfriend.

"Don't let the hair fool you," Potter said in an almost conspiratorial fashion. "Hugh's quite the little brainiac. His speciality, however, is not, as it happens, Transfigurations. That is where I come in. Our project is too advanced for this class, I'm afraid, although you're all excellent students."

Mr. Know-it-All in the front row looked less than satisfied, but Draco was feeling surprisingly smug. "Right," he said, hopping off the desk. "Let's head down, Harry." He made sure to draw the name out. "Your students are practically adults now, I'm sure they can handle an hour of study time without supervision." A little extra reminder of who, exactly, was making the front page with Potter couldn't hurt.

"Of course," Potter replied, smiling at the class. "The library's just this way…"

Draco followed, mentally congratulating Potter for remembering that he wasn't supposed to know where the library was.

It had been a long, hard day of research, and when he wasn't looking directly at it, Draco was certain he could see Ravenclaws staring through the chinks in the nearest bookshelf. They had had a few promising finds, all of which had amounted to nothing, so when Draco found another guide that seemed to be what they were looking for ,he wasn't all that excited. Then he read it again.

And again.

And again.

"I…I think I have it," Draco said breathlessly, poring over the words again.

"Really?" Potter asked, absently as he flipped through a book of Blood Magic rituals. "Have you read it through a second time yet?"

"Yes, Potter," Draco snapped. "I've read through it five times, and this is it! This is what we've been searching for!"

Potter reached over and grabbed the book, reading through everything on the page, eyes getting wider and wider as he went.

"How...?" he finally managed to choke out.

"I don't know!" Draco cried. "But do you know what this means?"

Potter shook his head mutely.

"This means we're free! We have the key to unlock the mystery that is my dining room! With this we can decode the floor and find a way back!" Draco felt like dancing, like grabbing Potter up and swirling around the room with him, like holding the other man in his arms and bending his head just that little bit before leaning forward and –

"Gentlemen!"

Potter, Draco realised, was just as excited as he and had, at some point, started yelling too.

"Yes, Madam Pince?" Potter winced, holding the book behind his back like a three year-old who had just been caught stealing from a cookie jar.

"I would think that, after all your years here, you would know and respect the rules of the library, Professor," the librarian snapped. "And if your guest would kindly use his indoor voice we would all benefit. Now, out."

"But," Potter began. "Madam Pince – we need to use –"

"Everybody needs to use the library, Professor Potter, and you and your boyfriend are not helping those of us who use it while respecting the rules that go along with the privilege." She enunciated the word 'boyfriend' with a certain amount of disdain that made Draco bristle.

"Well," he said stiffly, sweeping the unneeded books into a pile. "It's obvious that we're not wanted here, Harry. Shall we go?"

Nodding, Potter backed out of the library, book behind his back, as Draco stared down Madam Pince. After a moment, he snorted and turned.

"Harry!" he called, waving a hand in the air, half to annoy the librarian by being loud and half to get Potter's attention. "Wait up!"

Feeling a bit like his teenage self, Draco rushed from the library, grabbing the book from Potter has he flew by. "Come on, Harry!" he called over his shoulder. "Let's go! We've got a lot of work still ahead of us!"

Draco decided to ignore how easily Potter's first name rolled off his tongue, and the way Potter's eyes lit up when he laughed.