Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone Chapter 15: Something Stupid, a harry potter fanfic

Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone
Chapter 15: Something Stupid

...and then I go and spoil it all
by saying something stupid
like I love you.
Frank and Nancy Sinatra

Notes:
Text in Bold, Italics: Diary entries from Flash.
Text in Italics: (within a paragraph - thoughts or emphasis) Dreams, Letters, or Diary entries from Luc.
Underlined Text: Suggestive comments in the diaries.

Apologies for this, but ff . net doesn't like anything more than the most basic of formatting.

June 2, Monday

He knew when the dream began, for it was the same every night. But now it was evolving. As it replayed, yet again, Draco noticed that the voice of Jean-Paul was different, and the feel of those magical hands was changing. They felt strong and confident in what they were doing and his body responded to their touch. He knew quite soon that this mysterious lover would wear Harry Potter's face, but there was a sense of trepidation invading his overwhelmingly intense pleasure. Draco grasped the fact that he needed to say something to Harry. He needed to apologise, but the words would not come out.

Naturally, Draco's subconscious erotic journey was unfolding yet again and he was helpless to control its destination. His need to apologise to Harry was becoming more urgent, but no matter how hard he tried to speak to his dream lover, he would find he was speechless from burning desire.

But something did change. Draco looked down into the endless fire of lust in Harry's eyes, awaiting the inevitable leap over the edge of oblivion. Harry stopped – his green eyes sparkling mischievously as his mouth and tongue moved away to kiss a trail down to lave at the star shaped scars on his knee.

Always conscious of his infirmity, Draco flinched at the intimate touch, but Harry was insistent in his ministrations. "Don't..." he mumbled.

Dream Harry stopped and looked down at the knee, his hand still stroking lightly over the scarred skin. "Why? I gave you the cure. Why haven't you used it yet?" As Harry brought his mouth down to kiss the knee again, Draco felt a distinct difference in the touch. The tongue that now darted and flicked across his skin felt cold and clammy. He heard a sibilant hiss and looked back down to see his lover hissing words in Parseltongue. Draco felt the touch of magic and watched in awe as the scars began to fade and the misshapen kneecap returned to normal. The hissing continued as the forked tongue flicked its way back up his thigh and returned to its earlier task. Draco's yearning from the touch left him thoroughly incoherent as he arched back into the pillows.

The serpentine tongue flickered in teasing touches over and over again and Draco found himself quickly incoherent. "Draco, wake up." A foreign voice interrupted him as he reached completion, but he ignored the incessant call of his name. He heard his own voice cry out 'Flash', but he could no longer make out the features on his lover's face as he returned to wakefulness.

Draco stretched languidly as he roused, wincing at the stiffness in his neck and back. He reluctantly opened one eye, puzzled by the fact he wasn't sleeping in his plush and comfortable bed. He didn't fail to notice the overwhelming smell of coffee and wondered why Severus' voice invaded the end of the dream. Blinking rapidly as he woke, he spotted a full mug of coffee placed carefully between the piles of books stacked precariously on the desk. He sat up slowly in an attempt to release the uncomfortable crick in his neck. A pile of parchments was no substitute for a plump pillow. He had fallen asleep as he worked – again. A shadow fell across the desk and he looked up to see Severus standing there with his arms folded, a steaming mug of coffee in his own hand. The expression on his face was a cross between concern and amusement.

Only then did Draco remember the end of his dream. "Sev'rus," he stifled another yawn, "I wasn't talking in my sleep, was I?" Judging from the angle of the sun, it was early morning. How long had Draco been doing his research?

A wry smile crossed Severus' face. "I can assure you, Draco, that if you had, I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of telling you." He wasn't going to tell Draco about the coy smile and rather intimate murmuring he had overheard as he came in to check on him that morning. No matter how hard Draco worked, he deserved a little bit of happiness. If that were only happening in his dreams, then who was Severus to interrupt him? He was dreadfully concerned for his young charge. He would work himself to death if someone didn't look after him. Judging from what he could see strewn around his desk, Draco had buried himself in his work for the past few days. It wasn't healthy. It had been the weekend, after all.

"I wouldn't normally impinge on you this early in the day, Draco, but I need your assistance in getting those petrifying potions bottled and down to the classroom for this morning's exams."

Draco was still trying to wake up, his mind still trying to come down from the high of the dream. He recalled that Severus needed the petrifying potions, and nodded absently. That had been the least of his concerns. He groaned inwardly as he remembered why he was still scouring ancient texts and obscure parchments. The cure. That bloody potion that was going to remove the curse from his knee and return his mobility.

With his single-minded determination, he wasn't going to let anyone, even Severus, stop him from completing such an important task. This potion was going to change his life.

If only he could make it work.

He had not expected it to be so difficult – not after reading the details of the potion. Even Potter could have brewed it in his sleep. Unfortunately, he came across an impassable brick wall not long after he started. Gathering all the ingredients was proving to be somewhat of a challenge.

Draco felt the first stirrings of a dull headache as it attempted to take a hold. Staring at the stack of parchments, he was faced with the possibility that this current cure, like all the others, was going to be out of his reach. It had been too good to be true. He really should have gone with his first instinct and ignored everything he had heard from Potter back in the Leaf and Bean.

Harry finally caught up with Draco outside their rooms. He had Apparated back to the school gates so quickly, he was lucky he had not splinched himself. Draco had no idea why he practically ran away from Emmaline's when he heard Harry mention a cure for the curse, but he didn't have any time to think about it as the dogged Gryffindor was hot on his heels.

"Draco..." Harry began.

"What is it you want?" Draco sounded terse and tired.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. I guess from your reaction that this curse," Harry held up the ancient book written by Slytherin, "that this is what caused that." He looked down at Draco's knee, which was hidden beneath the folds of his robes.

"Five points to Gryffindor for observation, Harry." Draco wanted to get into his room, but Harry stopped him.

"Emmaline said you've tried everything to cure it, but nothing's worked."

"Emmaline has a propensity to talk – too much."

"I suppose you'll try to fight me if I offer to translate this cure for you."

Draco shrugged. "Somehow, I'm not surprised that you, of all people, would offer to do that. What do you want? I can pay you, of course."

Harry seemed confused. "What? Why would I want you to pay me?"

"Well I'm sure you aren't offering to do this out of the goodness of your heart. But then again, you are the consummate Gryffindor, so perhaps you were planning on doing just that." Draco couldn't help the hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Draco. You'll damn me if I do help, and you'll damn me if I choose to throw this book on the fire and then you'll never know. It's your call." Draco took a deep breath, not speaking, but eventually nodding to Harry that he would like him to translate the cure.

Eight hours later, Harry rapped on his door. He handed a parchment scroll to Draco, but quickly pulled it back as Draco was about to take it. "Actually, I do want something in return," he quipped.

Draco smirked. He had been expecting something like this. Nobody would do something for nothing. Harry continued. "Once upon a time I would have thought you were incapable of feeling compassion. But I was wrong. I see how well Remus is from taking the Wolfsbane that you are constantly improving. It must make you feel good to know that you are helping someone." Draco nodded, not really understanding what Potter was trying to say. "Perhaps I'm doing this for that same reason – the knowledge that this will help you in some way. That's payment enough, Draco."

Draco was still dumbfounded as Harry was apparently offering him a chance to return to a normal life – with absolutely no strings attached. It seemed too incredibly perfect to be true.

"Of course," Harry added as an afterthought, "I have to admit that the thought of proving our last Quidditch match was a complete fluke has crossed my mind on more than one occasion. I'd like a chance for a rematch, Draco."

Not expecting an answer, Harry was nearly out the door when he thought he heard Draco whisper an almost inaudible 'thank you'.

"Draco, is everything alright?" Severus was concerned. "I take it from your lack of enthusiasm that you are not experiencing the success you expected? What's wrong with it? Was Potter merely toying with you by offering you an 'unconditional cure'?" Severus was highly sceptical of Potter's rather convenient discovery of an extremely rare tome written in Parseltongue. The fact that it just happened to contain the original counter-potion to the Aboleo Adesum curse seemed incredible. He was even more sceptical of Potter's motives in offering the translated cure to Draco. It was apparently unconditional. Even though Severus held his doubts, he knew Draco was not one to pass up any opportunity that was freely given. He only hoped it would never come back to haunt.

Draco ran a hand through his hair as he downed another large gulp of coffee before answering. "I knew it was too good to be true, Severus. There's one ingredient – well - either Harry has got it horribly mixed up in translation, or it's even rarer than Albanian trunk-snouted hen's teeth. I've spent ages trying to come up with viable alternatives, but I can't seem to see anything that contains the exact same properties without counteracting other ingredients."

Severus didn't miss the quiet desperation in Draco's tone. "Maybe he didn't make a mistake, Draco. Have you considered the possibility that Potter is playing some cruel joke on you?"

"Of course I have, Severus. He doesn't have enough of a grasp of potions to make up something this elaborate – it has to be genuine. I doubt he would try something like this on me, unless he's in the mood to be cursed to the Channel and back." Draco had not mentioned to Severus that he had overheard Harry's confessional apology to Madame Pomfrey. He could barely believe it himself, but try as he might, he could not stop thinking about what he heard. He could only assume that Harry was helping him as a way of easing his own guilt.

"You haven't left this room in over three days, Draco." Severus was concerned. "You can't pin all your hopes on this. I remember the last time you thought you had found a cure." He really didn't want Draco to relive that sort of pain again.

Draco nodded, absently flicking his wand at the coffee pot, which hovered over and refilled Severus' cup before refilling his own. Now that he was fully awake, the craving for a cigarette was strong, and he suddenly realised he had not had one in a couple of days. He didn't exactly want to relive past failures, but he was beginning to think that this latest glimmer of hope was going to turn out to be just as futile as all his previous attempts.

"I know, I know. I just wanted to be thoroughly sure that it will work. I daren't risk any substitute ingredients, so now I have to just sit back and hope that they aren't extinct." Draco really didn't want to entertain that thought, but he knew it would be just one other thing that could throw a bludger at his plans. Rubbing at the day old stubble on his face, he pulled his fob watch from his pocket and seemed surprised as he realised the time. He looked out the window to confirm it, noticing Potter as he did his usual early morning forms in the courtyard. Severus' words finally crept into his consciousness and he realised it was Monday morning. He could have sworn it was only Sunday. Have I been working on it that long? He frowned, knowing he had forgotten something, but unable to put his finger on just what it was.

"I suspected that something was amiss, Draco. You usually only lock yourself away like that when things aren't going your way. You work yourself into the ground." Severus could read Draco's moods easily, and he really didn't think he would cope with another disappointment on top of all the others he had experienced in recent months. He had been through so many in such a short time. To come so close to a cure, only to find yet another barrier was painful. "What's the ingredient?" he asked curiously, coming around the desk to refer to Draco's notes.

Draco sighed heavily as he picked up the translation, pointing to one line in particular. "Have you ever heard of Pegasus Wingtips before?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. They were an extremely rare commodity. "Ah, yes. I can see where you would have a problem with that. Such a magical item. Is there anything I can do to help?" Severus didn't like Draco's chances of finding any. He remembered an extremely difficult search in trying to find some during the war. Voldemort had been most keen to locate some in his never-ending quest for immortality. Pegasus Wingtips weren't extinct, but they might as well be.

"Actually, I was going to ask you yesterday, but I must have fallen asleep as I worked on the potion base. I know your ingredients inventory inside out, and I know you only have Cornish pixie Wingtips, so I didn't bother to ask. Goodness knows where you got so many basilisk scales, but I wanted to double check that none of them were somehow mislabelled. But I have written to all the apothecaries I know, hoping someone might know where we can source some. I don't know if you know anyone else, but certainly a letter from you might encourage them to search a little harder. I can only begin to imagine how much something like that would cost..." That had been a huge concern for Draco. Money. Once upon a time, the price of something would not have entered his mind. It was highly likely that if they did find some, the cost would be so prohibitive that he would need to beg Weasley and the Fiscal Investigative Goblins for a loan against the frozen estate. He knew his chances of approval were slim.

Severus knew exactly what was churning through his apprentice's mind. "It's no problem, Draco. I can handle that side for you, and before you work yourself up into a state, I am perfectly capable of arranging payment when we come across the ingredients."

Draco seemed surprised at the offer. "I am not working myself up into a state!" Severus just glared, and he knew he was right. "But..."

Severus waved him away with a hand. "But... nothing. I'm not going to get into this argument with you." He had learned early in life never to argue with a Malfoy about money. "Consider it a gift. For once in your life, Draco, don't think, just accept."

He wanted to argue with Severus further, but the Potions master gave him a glare that brooked no argument. Draco nodded, but wasn't happy about it. If he were lucky, they would find the curious ingredient in some back alley apothecary that would be glad to be rid of the stock for a nominal price. He drank his second cup of coffee and started to feel somewhat human.

There was one thing that Severus had been exceedingly curious about. "Did your French lady friend say where she got that book?" he asked. It had been a shock to learn of the book's existence not from Draco, but from that upstart Potter himself. He had not expected the young hero to come knocking on his door (voluntarily) to explain the existence of this book and what he intended to do with it. Of course, Severus was insanely curious in regard to its contents, but he could not help but wonder exactly where the book had come from, and why it suddenly landed in Potter's lap.

"She mentioned something about a deceased estate, Severus. Did Harry come and talk to you about the book? I have to say I find it quite ironic that something that you and I would dearly love to get our hands on can only be read by a bloody Gryffindor." Draco shrugged.

"That's the second time you've referred to the illustrious Mr Potter by his first name. Why am I sensing that something is amiss with that?" Severus raised his own eyebrow. "You haven't been taking tea with the headmaster by any chance, have you?"

Draco rolled his eyes and nodded. "How ever did you guess? I take it he has done this before." Severus nodded. "Who?"

Severus snorted. "He seemed to think that I was being rather uncharitable to the illustrious Sirius Black. His interference really didn't help. It only made us more furious, in the end."

Draco nodded again. "Yes, I don't like being hexed behind my back. If he wanted us to be friends then he should have done it when we were children."

"Oh, Dumbledore would never hex a student. It's against his rather warped sense of ethics." The veiled sarcasm was not lost on Draco, who raised an eyebrow higher than usual. Taking another long sip of coffee, he couldn't help but feel that something was slightly off with his mentor. Severus looked over at the cauldron full of petrifying potion and the still empty jars. They would have to work quickly to get them bottled before class.

Severus looked tired as he rubbed at the back of his neck. Draco frowned in concern. "What's wrong, Severus?"

"Oh nothing that you need concern yourself with, Draco," Severus sighed wearily. He was always this tired at the end of the school year, and it just seemed to get worse as he got older.

Draco saw the lines around Severus' eyes and the bags below had deepened recently. Even with Draco's assistance, Severus was running himself ragged. Realising that he had, rather selfishly spent the better part of the past few days absorbed in his own work, he felt suddenly quite guilty.

"You need to slow down, Severus." Draco spoke plainly as he began to bottle the potions. He had to be careful or the sticky solution would petrify his own hand if he spilled any.

"I'll slow down when I'm dead."

"Which you will be if you don't relax. Merlin, Severus. Look, I'll handle this cure – it's my problem after all. I'll let you know if there's anything else I need from you besides a couple of letters."

"I still can't believe Dumbledore put that Vocalisfavere spell on you."

"He cursed both of us, Severus."

Severus was surprised at that and shook his head. "I've given up ever wondering about what goes on in that man's head. To be honest, I really wonder if he isn't already a few knuts short of a sickle." Severus downed the remainder of his coffee, still rubbing at the tension in his neck.

Draco was concerned. It was unusual for Severus to readily show his fatigue. "Is there anything else can I do to help you now, Severus? I could take over some of your marking..."

Severus waved him away, "Unless you can spirit me away to somewhere I don't have to deal with imbeciles, or our notorious headmaster, there's not much you can do. It's always like this near the end of the school year. Only two more weeks and they will all be gone."

Draco tapped his finger against his lip, thinking. "When was the last time you took a holiday, Severus?"

"Last summer of course – you know the school schedule."

"No, I mean when did you go away for a holiday? I know you spend your summers locked away and doing all your catch up work. You won't need to do that this year – that's why you've got me. Why not go away and rest – really rest? Even better, go off and shag someone. It might do you the world of good," he smirked at the last. Severus was more uptight that he was, and Draco knew that a few good hard shags might soften Severus' demeanour dramatically. He toyed with a stray thought of sending Severus in Jean-Paul's direction, but changed his mind.

"Cheeky monkey," Severus retorted with a half-smile.

"Look, my chateau at Roussillon is vacant – I'm sure you'd love the place." Draco offered freely. He had planted the seed of an idea. All he had to do was water it daily until Severus realised he was free to do as he pleased during his holidays.

Severus had been correct. It did take them quite a while to bottle the petrifying potions and take them down to the dungeon by hand. Some things were just too volatile or dangerous to trust to a hovering charm.

After returning to his rooms, Draco flopped down into the armchair beside the cold hearth, deep in thought. Am I every going to find those Pegasus Wingtips? I don't think the potion will work with any substitutions. Am I just kidding myself in thinking that I'll get full use of my knee and be able to live a normal existence? Draco stopped his flights of fancy just as quickly as the thoughts came. No use in daydreaming just yet. It was with a sense of impending reality that he dragged himself off to the bathroom.

"AAARRGHH!" Draco turned sharply at the scream, only to discover his mirror had made the unearthly sound.

"What?" he asked huffily.

"You look dreadful, darling! You go away and hide in that room for days on end – you look a right mess! Please tell me you aren't going to end up letting yourself go like Mr tall, dark and mysterious who was here earlier." The mirror sounded horrified at the thought Draco might be letting himself go.

"I should never have brought you with me," he muttered under his breath and scowling at the melodramatic mirror. "Although, I am in the market for a new litter tray for Petite Amie. Perhaps I should do a little creative transfiguration after, hmmm?"

"Oh!" the mirror gasped in despair, "you wouldn't dare!"

"Try me." He promptly ignored the mirror and made his way to the shower. The refreshing stream of water renewed and revitalised him. As he turned sharply, the naggingly familiar pain shot up and down his leg, and he wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to live pain free. Some days he could barely remember what it was like to be without the aches and constant twinges. Whatever Jean-Paul had done to it in Marrakesh had made it somewhat duller, but he sensed the pain travelling up familiar pathways and he resigned himself to the fact that he was hanging on to the last scrap of hope.

Why had this cure suddenly come to light now? Only after spending months scouring every library in search of a cure did one suddenly fall into his lap. Was Harry really trying to help him, or was Harry doing it purely to overcome his own feelings of guilt? Draco doubted it had anything to do with their enforced friendship – surely Harry wasn't that obliging. Only a few weeks ago he would have thought that Harry would not piss on him if he were on fire. That phrase of Flash's seemed thoroughly apt when describing Potter.

It was then that he realised what had been niggling at the back of his mind. As he stepped out of the shower, he half dried and hurriedly made his way over to his desk, dressing quickly. There it was – the journal, wide open with a few lines from Flash. Draco had been so busy in his workroom that he completely forgot their scheduled chat. Damn! I really wanted to talk to him.

He felt dreadful for completely forgetting. Reading Flash's words, the guilt unfolded.

Dear Luc,

Hey, are you around? How are things?

Luc? Anyone home?

Seems I'm talking to myself. Which is quite common, people tell me.

I hope everything is fine, and that you're just indisposed. Of course, if you're indisposed with someone tall, dark and handsome, I'll thoroughly understand, but you know the rules - I want details!

Okay then, either you definitely are indisposed, or you're not talking to me, which I certainly hope is not the case.

Ciao for now. Might catch up with you during the week.

Cheers, Flash

Draco was about to grab a quill and scribble a short reply when he heard the fire flare behind him.

"Quick, Draco, I need you down here." Severus seemed unable to hold in some barely concealed anger. "It seems I overestimated this lot of third year Gryffindors, and one has just petrified himself, and it's splashed onto me." Before Draco could answer, he saw Severus turn slightly grey. He was through the Floo instantly and found the rest of his day taken up with supervision of exams.

Severus was actually fine, as was the student, but Poppy took the opportunity to keep Severus in the infirmary for a few hours. Some of the students seemed surprised to see Draco administering the day's exams, with the third, fourth and sixth years all taking some form of test that day. A few seemed pleased that their loathed Professor Snape was not hovering disapprovingly over their cauldrons as they brewed, but they had not counted on Draco having the same short temper as their professor when it came to incompetency.

Draco was thoroughly exhausted by the end of the day. Severus returned not long after the first years were dismissed. They were not actually due for a test, but Draco quickly had them under control with a surprise quiz of his own design. Severus grinned as he watched Draco yawn wildly as he sorted through the first years' answers, shaking his head and occasionally raising an eyebrow at their attempts.

"So, I gather you don't have any designs on taking over from me any time soon?" Severus still looked weary, but Draco knew that Poppy probably kept him in the infirmary to ensure he had an enforced rest, which he probably resented.

"Not in the near future, Severus. But more importantly, how are you?"

Severus looked at his bandage wrapped hand, and seemed hesitant to speak. "I think you're right, Draco. Perhaps I do need to go away these holidays." That explained the hesitancy; Severus had never been quick to admit his weaknesses.

Draco nodded. Did it really take a near accident to make him see that? "As I said earlier, the chateau..."

"No, that's fine, Draco. I have had more than enough time to think about it today, I'll probably just head down to London or something. I'll think about it later. But you look exhausted too, Draco. Why don't you go back to your rooms? I'll sort this out. And don't worry, I'll have a few letters written to everyone I know in the search for Pegasus Wingtips."

"Thank you, Severus." Draco was truly thankful for everything that Severus did. From offering him the apprenticeship to now helping him to find rare ingredients, he appreciated his deep connection to the man who was more a father than Lucius ever was.

Upon realising that his time at Hogwarts was coming to a close much more quickly than he wanted it to, Harry spent a melancholy but disjointed weekend as he busied himself translating Salazar Slytherin's old book. He had spoken to both Remus and Snape about it, and decided to translate the entire book for whatever help it may offer to the world of Potions studies and medi-wizard research. He had been determined to translate the potion for the Aboleo Adesum curse first, and never even noticed his lack of concern as to what drove him to provide that cure to Draco.

Harry remembered the first time he saw Draco after the war, that day in London when he lost his temper. In the midst of everything else going on that day, he had instantly noticed Draco's cane and wondered briefly if he was falling back on his old tricks, playing up a minor injury in an attempt to garner sympathy or get revenge. Harry had quickly discounted that idea, admonishing himself for thinking such uncharitable thoughts, and after reading about the curse in this book, he felt even worse for it. It was obvious from the details in Slytherin's book that Draco was bearing up incredibly well, and in fact it was a testament to his determination that he was still walking under the strain of such a destructive curse.

He was beginning to get concerned that he had not seen or heard from Draco since he offered up the translation. He hadn't noticed any light coming from under the door when he walked past Malfoy's room, but he saw a light burning low coming from the lab that was attached to the room. He considered knocking on the lab door to check on Draco's progress with the cure, but decided against it when he imagined Draco with Snape's bad temper and his typical response at being interrupted during brewing.

The stray tabby cat that had taken to wandering the halls began to follow Harry back to his rooms, and he found he could not resist the pathetic looks she gave him when he wanted to close his door on her. Sighing, he let her in and was surprised to realise hours later that he had been mindlessly petting her as he read. She was comfortably curled in his lap and seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself in his company. The next day when he left his room, she went to scratch at Draco's door. He guessed that she might belong to him and wondered if Draco would hear her and let her in.

Sunday morning, Harry took note of Draco's continued absence in the courtyard during his morning T'ai Chi forms, as well as his failure to show up yet again for breakfast in the Great Hall. A horrifying thought crossed his mind. What if the cure didn't work? Bloody hell, I've probably only made things worse. That thought haunted him all day as he began to think about his future. In two weeks he would be gone from the castle – his tenure completed. Everything about being at Hogwarts seemed so right. He spent most of Sunday wandering around the castle, his camera strapped around his neck. He wanted plenty of memories of this place if he were to leave soon.

Harry was convinced the castle contained some sentience, which made him feel that the actual place belonged in his Anam Cara – his soul group. He had been giving that a lot of thought lately. He sensed that things were coming to a head, but despite the fact he wasn't in a physical relationship, he was wondering more often about those people who belonged in his soul group. Ron and Hermione were definitely there, as were Professor Dumbledore and Remus as his mentors. He felt strongly that Sirius should have been there, and he found himself suddenly missing his godfather. There were many who he considered as close, but were not part of that core group of people that he wanted to share his life with. He didn't know if Ron and Hermione's impending wedding was making him feel so maudlin, or if it was the fact he was at another crossroad in his life. His friends had agreed to put him up at their place after he left Hogwarts, at least until after the wedding.

Of course, there was one very important member of his soul group. One he wanted to talk to, but Luc was not there late on Sunday evening when Harry sat down and pulled out his journal to talk. It was completely out of character for Luc to completely miss a chat, and Harry worried. Even as he waited for his friend to write back, he knew that he was probably overreacting and being silly.

Luc had a life as well, and he probably got caught up in it. Perhaps Sunday evening was no longer the best time for them to chat. Besides, had he really thought it through, he would have realised just how difficult it was writing whilst his injured wrist was still healing. Harry had followed Poppy's instructions carefully and had avoided any unnecessary wand work. He used a dicta-quill when he translated the Parseltongue potion for Draco, but when he tried it on the journal, it felt quite wrong. The journal's magic didn't seem to flow terribly well when he wasn't directly connected to it.

Not for the first time, he wondered if perhaps Luc hadn't actually seen the words because they weren't written by hand, as if it gave them an impersonal quality. Harry sipped quietly on a bottle of Chardonnay he had picked up in Hogsmeade as he waited for Luc. After a while, he took the opportunity to meditate, finding the quiet evening extremely conducive to finding his centre.

A furry bundle quietly leapt in from the window ledge, and Harry was startled when the ball of tabby fluff leapt into his lap during the depth of his meditation. Harry nearly leapt straight out of the chair, but the cat's heavy weight stopped him momentarily.

"So, you found another way to get in here, huh?" he asked her carefully. In answer, she began to sniff the air haughtily before turning around three times and sitting firmly in his lap. As she made herself completely comfortable, she turned one eye on him as if to say that he should just continue with what he was doing. He shrugged, not used to a cat that was so congenial. Crookshanks was never really one for allowing complete strangers to give him a cuddle, but this self-assured feline was quite happy to jump into a strange lap and take whatever affection was on offer.

She looked thoroughly loved and spoiled, which seemed like the sort of cat that someone like Draco might own, but unlike her prickly owner, she was quite willing to accept any affection, no matter where it was given. The cat's presence helped him to meditate as he let her purring deliver him to sleep. When he woke on Monday morning, she was gone, but he had managed to have a deep and restful slumber in his armchair by the fire.

Monday morning dawned and there was still no response in the journal. Harry was so distracted by his concern for Luc that he had trouble concentrating on his forms that morning and barely noticed that Draco was still not in the courtyard for his morning cigarette. Though he was still reluctant to cross the barrier of anonymity with Luc, Harry recognised that he had begun to rely heavily on their frequent contact, and he knew that he wanted Luc to play a bigger part in his life. Luc was definitely a member of his Anam Cara – a very important part of it, and he found himself wanting to know more and more about the intriguing Frenchman. As he thought on Luc's absence, he could hear Snape's voice wafting down from Draco's window. He heard a muted reply and knew that Malfoy was at least still there.

At the thought of Malfoy and his Anam Cara in the same thought, he remembered the fact that enemies might make up members of your soul group. He snorted at that, and had to admit that if there was one rival who probably deserved to be there, then Malfoy was certainly the man to fill that role.

Harry found his thoughts wandering back to Luc for most of the day. Rushing back to his room at lunch, he had hoped to find some small note to explain away his absence, but Harry found nothing after his own entry from the night before. Quickly grabbing his quill, he added a short note to let Luc know he was worried.

Hey Luc, I know you are probably not around, but I can't help but worry that something bad has happened. I'm sorry if I've done anything that's made you keep your silence, but I'm hoping you've merely gotten caught up in day to day life. I only hope it's a happy distraction and that nothing is wrong. I find myself spending a great deal of time worrying about you – honestly, Luc. Please tell me if there's something wrong. I'll be checking back every night in case you do get a chance to chat. I miss you! Cheers,
Flash

Even his regular afternoon tea with Remus felt somewhat stilted. Remus mentioned that the Muggle Studies teacher resigned that morning. Harry immediately brightened, and headed straight up to the headmaster's office to apply for the job. Surely it was a sign that he was destined to stay at the castle. He certainly felt highly qualified to teach Muggle Studies.

But he came away thoroughly dejected and a little angry, if truth be known. Dumbledore wouldn't even consider him for the job, and told him that he should seek a position that was more suited to his abilities. He felt rather affronted that he wasn't going to be taken seriously. Dumbledore had dismissed him before he could even form a well-countered argument. The dream of staying on at Hogwarts was drifting further and further away especially since the confirmation that Madame Hooch was definitely returning in September.

Harry missed dinner and kept company with a bottle of wine and the cat, who, strangely enough, decided to spend an inordinate amount of time in Harry's rooms. She somehow sensed his dejection and hung around to keep an eye on him. Just as he was settling in with the bottle of wine, Remus knocked on the door.

He seemed surprised that Harry was in such a depressed mood, but understood perfectly when Harry explained Dumbledore's reaction to the offer of teaching Muggle Studies.

"Well, Harry, he does have a point," Remus offered honestly.

"You don't think I'd make a good Muggle Studies teacher?" he bit back a little harshly, but Remus just shook his head.

"No, I think you will make a brilliant teacher, Harry, but I know that Muggle Studies is not your forte. You'd hate it in a few months."

"But there are some wonderful things about the Muggle world. Like television, and movies, and books. Not to mention what they seem to be doing with computers..." Harry was ready to defend his decision, but Remus stopped him.

"I don't doubt your knowledge of the Muggle world one bit, Harry. If only more wizards had such an understanding, things might not be so difficult. But that's not the focus of the classes here at Hogwarts. Because of the Statute of Secrecy, it's mostly a theory-based course. You have to teach most of it from a book. The fact that the Muggle technology doesn't work around here also hampers you. How can you expect to teach them about television if you can't even run the eckltricity?"

"Electricity, Remus."

"Right. But I know that would only frustrate you, Harry. Besides, if you really had a look at the whole curriculum, it mostly deals with things like the structure of British Parliament and the Monarchy. Harry, I know how much you hate the whole theory and research side of things. You should face the fact it isn't one of your best traits." Harry sat staring into the fire in a petulant sulk. He didn't want to hear Remus defend the headmaster's decision.

Remus saw that he was yet to convince Harry that it wasn't a great idea. "Look, how many times have you told me how frustrated you get when Arthur asks you questions about the Muggle stuff he collects? I don't think you've got the right sort of patience to teach that, Harry. Stick to your strengths. Yours are practical, and physical. Leave the theoretical side of teaching to those who belong with their noses in a book."

Harry nodded, reluctantly agreeing with Remus. He didn't really like teaching theory – not without a certain amount of practical work to back it up, but he was still affronted by the unfairness of Dumbledore's quick dismissal. Remus has a point. Didn't I just leave a job because there wasn't enough action – because I was underappreciated? Why did I want to do this? Why do I feel it's more important to stay at Hogwarts than it is to have an enjoyable career?

"What else is bothering you, Harry?" Remus was worried about him. There was more to Harry's sulk than just Dumbledore's rejection. He knew the reasons for the headmaster's decision, but he wasn't at liberty to say anything right now.

"Oh," Harry waved his hand around, "just a little bit of everything, Remus. I suppose it could be the fact that I was due to talk to someone, and he wasn't there for our meeting. He hasn't done that before, not without a good reason."

Remus suddenly realised what this was all about. "You're talking about that fellow you've been writing to in Sirius' old journal, aren't you?" Remus was torn, but wanted to hear what Harry needed to say. Had he fought with Draco, or had the blond discovered who he was writing to?

"Yeah, I'm still writing to him, actually. He's..." Harry didn't really know how to tell Remus what he was feeling. "He's become rather special, Remus. We talk all the time, and we're becoming quite close. At least, I think we are."

Remus had no doubt they were. He hadn't missed the wistful smile that crossed Harry's face as he mentioned his mystery friend. "So what's wrong then, Harry? What has happened?"

"Oh, well Luc missed our chat last night, and I haven't heard from him at all." His tone was definitely worried.

"He's probably quite busy, Harry. Don't worry yourself. If he's as special to you as you think, then he obviously has a very good reason for missing a talk with you."

Harry nodded. Remus was making sense. "You're right, of course, Remus. I'm just being an overly paranoid prat, as usual."

"It's fairly obvious that he means a lot to you. It's normal to feel concern for those who you love."

"Love?"

Remus wondered for a moment if he had perhaps said too much. Judging from the surprise in Harry's eyes, he probably had. He quickly backtracked his words, hoping to explain them away. "Well you missed dinner and you're the better part of the way through your bottle of wine, Harry. If I didn't know you as well as I do, I'd say you were pining after a lover."

Harry snorted, but cocked his head as he thought about Remus' words. How do I really feel about Luc? I've said on many occasions that I want to get to know him better.

"You seem to be quite enamoured by this guy you're writing to – what did you say his name was – Luc?" Remus could see comprehension dawning on Harry's face.

"I do find him... intriguing, Remus, and I admit that I might have made a few suggestive comments his way. That's what's got me most worried. Sometimes I wonder if I've gone too far, and now I've scared him off."

"If he's worthy of being your friend, Harry, he won't be scared off by your suggestive comments. He'll most likely find them thoroughly flattering." Harry's eyes widened as he understood the double meaning of Remus' words. Remus laughed, putting a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "You have to stop these incessant recriminations. I can't believe you're still beating yourself up over the fact you made a pass at me."

"But it made you uncomfortable..." Harry could not believe he was discussing this with Remus.

"Harry, I admit that you are a bloody sexy young man, and I am flattered that you think of me in such a way. Anyone would be lucky to have you – that's the honest truth, but even you know that if we started anything, it would always be tinged with awkwardness. Your godfather was my soul mate, and I was a friend to your parents. I admit that there's a small amount of doubt in my mind about all that, but Harry, you deserve someone better than me."

"Wouldn't it be up to me to make that choice?" Harry asked bitterly.

Remus chose to ignore the accusation. "And now you're concerned for your friend, Luc. Tell me, Harry. Do you want to dance around with innocent conversations with this man for the rest of your life, or do you want to tell him how you feel? I know you're not one to bottle up your feelings."

Remus left Harry to ponder his own feelings. He felt absolutely terrible for leading Harry to conclusions he hadn't yet made. He was so certain that Harry already knew he was in love with this 'Luc', but judging from Harry's reaction, he had been mistaken. Why am I the one always playing devil's advocate? Remus knew the journals were going to cause more trouble than they were worth, despite the ultimate joy of their outcome. Remus realised it was going to be a long, hard road before Harry and Draco got there, but he was beginning to feel the strain of being caught in the middle.

Harry was still sitting in quiet contemplation long after Remus left. His mind was in too much turmoil to meditate. It was only sheer luck that he had finished the bottle of wine and was heading over to the table when he caught the journal pages opening and the green text appearing. It was an overwhelming sense of relief that accompanied him as he reached for his own quill and ink. He wasn't going to rely on any dicta-quills tonight. He was going to write and hopefully his broken wrist would hold up under the strain.

Monday night Bonjour Flash, I can only hope that you can see your way to forgiving me. I feel like the biggest bastard in the world. I have no excuse for missing last night's chat and standing you up. I fell asleep over a cauldron (well, next to it, and don't worry, it wasn't in danger of bubbling over). I've been thoroughly busy, and something cropped up during the week that got me quite excited (work related, I won't bore you with the intricate details). Do you remember how I told you that I tend to get carried away by my work? I was going to write to you this morning, but there literally was an emergency and I had to drop 'everything'. Everything, including your trousers? Oh, thank goodness you are there! I feel bloody terrible. It's been playing on my mind all day, but I could not get away to reply. And no, I didn't have to drop my trousers, although they were lucky I had only just got dressed. I barely finished incanting my Amici Vestiro charm! I'm going to pretend I actually know that charm. I confess that I'm hopeless with some of the more subtle, older spells, but if my Latin isn't as bad as I think, I'm guessing it's one of those charms to help you get dressed in a hurry. Oh, yes it is. You've never used it? It was one of the first spells mother taught me when I got my wand. She was a huge fan of all those proper spells that helped you look your best. It takes a bit of finesse to get it to work properly, and I guess I just use it because I can't be arsed to do up the buttons on my robes. But I'm really glad you're there, Flash. I feel like a shit for sleeping through our meeting last night. Don't beat yourself up, Luc. It's just a chat, and you're here now. I admit that I've been more than a little worried today, but I thought it was probably something like that. I know you'd never stand me up without a bloody good reason. At least I hope not. I promise. I won't do it again. And no, I wouldn't do that to you. Your friendship means too much to me. I'll set an alarm on the journal to wake me up next time. I was only just talking about you to a friend, and I came to the realisation that I worry about you so much because you are so important to me. I take that as a wonderful complement. Thanks, Flash. I promise I won't do that to you again. I was working through some tricky research, and I was just so absorbed in my work, I forgot what day it was. When I finally woke up, I thought it was Sunday morning. Turns out it was Monday! But I wouldn't have wanted you to stop working just for me. I understand that you do have to do these other things, Luc. It's fine. No, it's not fine. I feel like a real cad, Flash. The fact that you've been worried about me all day means so much, but you shouldn't have had to do that. You've now been officially stood up for a cauldron. Not terribly exciting, I know, but I suppose in way of apology, I should grant you a boon. Luc, stop already! You really shouldn't be beating yourself up like this. It was life; it happens. I'm just glad to know things are okay. Now, if you really feel the need to offer me something to make up for it… hmmmm… Oh, this could get interesting. What about giving me your Floo address? If that's what you honestly want, then yes. Probably wouldn't work though, I think Floo access is restricted here. You're serious? I was joking actually, Luc. I really don't think you are, Flash. No, you're right. I'm not joking, but I've just finished a bottle of wine, so don't listen to a single thing that I say tonight. I've already forgiven you for missing our chat. I do mean that. Think no more on that. But I still feel rotten. How about I let you ask me anything you like, and I promise to answer you truthfully.

Draco realised as he wrote that he was offering quite a lot. He had no idea what Flash would ask. He really didn't want to lose their casual and close rapport, but if Flash asked the wrong sort of question, he could very well end up telling him things that might put a wedge into their friendship. He would not be able to lie in the journal, of that he was certain. He realised that if he had managed to write that offer into the journal, then he knew that he trusted Flash implicitly. Flash wouldn't abuse that trust. It had been a big step to trust someone else, but Draco felt it was right to give that trust to his friend.

Anything? Yes, anything, Flash. I want to let you know I trust you. I trust you enough to know that you won't abuse our relationship by asking me something like my name. Although the idea of offering you my Floo address is starting to sound appealing. I might just relent. No, I think you can ask me anything. Well, if you're sure. But you've put me on the spot. I wouldn't want to waste such a juicy opportunity. I'll have to think it over. I can ask you anything? I promise I won't ask for your name, or your Floo address. You don't have to ask straight away, Flash. Give me until Sunday. I'll think of something suitable to ask you... something that will be worthy of what you've asked. I really shouldn't have drunk that whole bottle of wine. Please tell me you aren't drinking alone because you were worried about me. On a more important note, I hope it wasn't a Chardonnay. Well, no, it wasn't a Chardonnay. It was the last bottle I picked up from my trip to France. A fine Rosé. Oh, well there might be hope for you yet if you can appreciate such a good drop. I'm ignoring your blatant barbs at my taste in wine. I'll pretend you didn't say that, and then I'll let you know that it wasn't just your mysterious silence that had me drinking alone. I had some disappointing news tonight. Nothing tragic, I hope. No, not really. I mentioned that this job was only a short-term position. It ends in a couple of weeks. I found out there was another position available, and I went straight to the top and offered myself for the position, but they turned me down. He didn't even want to interview me properly! This lot sound a little bit like your last employers. Are you sure you want to stay there? Oh, no, they really aren't. A friend just came by and he made me see some sense. I only wanted to apply because I want to stay here. This place feels like home. There's a sense of belonging here that I've not had anywhere else. Well, there are a few places I've visited that felt right, but there's something about to happen here – I can sense it. I can't put my finger on what, but I really don't want to leave. I think I know what you mean. I didn't want to leave Paris. I do feel right being there. I must say that the moment I'm no longer needed here, I'll be on the first Floo out of the UK. I have to admit, though, that the animosity I was expecting hasn't quite been as bad as I thought it would be. What did your friend say that made you rethink your application? Oh, he's known me practically forever, and he made me see that I'd probably hate the job after a while. It would most likely be like my last position. I couldn't bear the paperwork, and I would be stuck behind a desk all day. I realise now that it isn't for me. I had hoped that the woman I've replaced wasn't going to come back, but she is. Worst luck. I remember how unhappy you were behind a desk. Perhaps you need to step away and see if you really do want to stay in that place. Sometimes you have to step out of a situation to realise just how much you belong there. I know for certain now that Paris will be my home once I leave here. I wasn't really sure at first, as I was only there to study, but I see that it is my spiritual home. At least there, or my home in the south of France. What part of the UK would you call your home? Oh, I really don't know. Certainly not Surrey, where I grew up. I was in Somerset for quite a while. It's nice and quiet and out of the way, which suits me fine. I honestly don't know exactly where else except where I am now. I'll be staying with friends in London for a while after work finishes. I'll probably stay with them until I find my feet. You are right, Luc. I guess being back here has made me feel a little nostalgic, but I do want a job that fits my skills, and the one I applied for really wasn't for me. I have a lot of knowledge about it, but I would hate the limitations placed on me. I guess you could say I'm not terribly good at following rules and regulations. So you're a closet rebel? Who would have thought it? But perhaps you need to move on so that you can find your soul mate. You seem to have stalled in the search for your grand passion. He's obviously not there, so it might be good to move on.

Harry took a moment to think about this. Luc's reminder meshed in his head with Remus' casual words of pining for a lover. He thought again of the dream he'd had of a mystery man who felt like Luc, the dreams he'd had involving Remus and Draco, the thoughts he'd had when worrying about Luc's unresponsiveness, the way his view on the world had altered in recent months. He felt a rush, almost as if reality shifted around him, as the thoughts and statements and feelings and dreams all came together. He'd found his soul mate. He was in love with Luc!

I think you are right again, Luc. You know me so well. Sometimes I wonder if I'm that transparent. No, not transparent, just that I feel I do know you almost as well as myself after all these months. I have no idea who my soul mate might be. I've been getting so many mixed and confused messages, particularly since Beltane. I know that something important is going to happen soon. I guess I will just have to wait. No use trying to force fate, is there? No, you're right. Fate hates being pushed. But I was thinking about my Anam Cara the other day – my soul group. Remember what I said about that? I think so. That's the group of people that surround you in life – family, friends and such. That's the one. I can't help but think that I already know who my soul mate is – that he's already in my soul group. The problem is that I really don't know who everyone is in my soul group. Are you sure, or is it some subconscious wishful thinking on your part? Oh, I honestly don't know. Look, I think now that it's just the wine talking. Don't listen to me, Luc. I admit I've had a few maudlin moments recently, but nothing that hasn't passed when I am fully awake. You know I do worry about you too, Flash. I think I might have felt the same if you didn't show up for a scheduled chat. I'd probably turn it into some raving melodrama that involved me calling in the Aurors to send out a search party. 'Missing: one wizard, lovely penmanship with purple ink. Has a tendency to flirt with other wizards. Answers to the name Flash.' I really needed that laugh, Luc. Thank you. I feel heaps better, but so tired now. Why does wine make you sleepy when you haven't eaten? You haven't eaten dinner? Ooh, no wonder you're sleepy. I think you should stop right now and have something filling to eat. Try some toasted sandwiches, if nothing else. That should help ease the headache tomorrow morning. Do you have anyone who can help with a hangover? I should be fine. It was only one bottle of wine. If you're sure, Flash. I hope you don't have an early start tomorrow. Are you mothering me, Luc? Sorry. I do worry, but I'll shut up now. Tell you what, why don't we make our chat earlier next week. Do we have to wait until Sunday, Luc? Doesn't Sunday suit you any more? Sorry, that's just me feeling quite lonely all of a sudden. I guess I'm just wishing I could talk to you more often. I admit that I think about talking to you nearly every day. I'm sorry, I'll stop pushing. No, you're not pushing, Flash. I admit that I've wanted to chat to you a few times these past few weeks. I guess I just look so forward to this time every Sunday (when I'm not stupidly working myself into the ground). The only problem at the moment is that I'm so busy over the next fortnight... It's fine, Luc. Honestly. I will just have to be patient and wait until Sunday again. I am not upset, don't worry. Well, I'm definitely free Sunday afternoon. I know I'll be busy on Sunday night getting ready for Monday morning, so it's likely I might get caught up in work again. Besides, I found this wonderful place where I feel like I could sit and write for hours. And they serve coffee. REAL coffee! I know I won't sleep through our chat if I'm there! Oh, congratulations! I guess that's why you seem to be in a slightly better mood. Actually, Sunday afternoon is perfect. I just remembered a nice place I could go mid-afternoon! It's a date. And no standing me up for a cauldron. Now you've given me all week to consider what I'll ask you. Why am I suddenly worried? Don't be, Luc. Thank you. Thanks for being honest. That means so much to me. I do worry about you. You take care this week, Flash. No more bottles of wine without a decent dinner. It's a promise. Take care, love Flash. Au revoir,
love Luc.

By the time Tuesday's classes were completed, Harry was utterly exhausted. It had been a long day. Most students were busy concentrating on their exams, and as a result, their concentration wavered as they flew, causing a few near mishaps. Unable to heed Madame Pomfrey's warnings, Harry had spent most of the day on his broom and his wrist and arm ached thoroughly.

It had ached all morning, along with his head. Luc had been correct in his assessment that he should not have drunk a whole bottle of wine without food. Actually, as he tried to do his T'ai Chi that morning (the hangover wasn't helping in any way), he realised he felt a little better knowing that Luc was all right. He had not realised that his worry and concern for his friend had caused him so much stress. It had been silly of him to think that Luc had been avoiding him. He laughed at the idea of being stood up for a cauldron, and tried hard not to think of being stood up at all by his friend. He definitely would hold Luc to that promise of asking any question, and began to ponder the questions he would like to ask of Luc. He felt he knew him so well, but he was still rather mysterious. He would definitely give this some thought. He would hate to waste the question on something frivolous. But was Remus right? How do I really feel about Luc? It was that question that stayed at the forefront of his mind all day.

A sharp knock at the door made Draco look up from his reading on Thursday evening. His calculations for the next batch of Wolfsbane were looking promising (anything to keep his mind off the fruitless search for practically non existent ingredients), and he was ready to try something a little different. He was expecting Remus, and merely unlocked his door with his wand. The door opened, but Draco was surprised to see Petite Amie poke her head around the corner, meowing casually as she looked up at him.

"Since when have you learned to knock, hmmm?" he asked her, but she studiously ignored him as she headed toward her food bowl.

"Er, she didn't," Harry popped his head around the door, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Oh. Hello, Harry," Draco had barely spoken a half dozen words to Potter during the past week. In his desire to work on the curse cure, and with his Wolfsbane research, he had managed to avoid the other wizard. He had not been heading down to have a cigarette every morning, so his usual skulking as Harry did his T'ai Chi had not happened. He realised he had not seen or spoken to Harry since the night he gave him the translation from Slytherin's book. Had it nearly been a week? Unfortunately, the fact he had yet to apologise to Harry leapt out and confronted him. Why couldn't he just say he was sorry?

"I was wondering who she belonged to," Harry indicated toward the cat as he shut the door. "She has taken to coming in to my room through the window – I don't know why she does it, but she seems enamoured with the rug next to my fireplace – and my lap. I just caught her scratching at your door. You're probably busy, so I'll just..." Harry was ready to leave, but he saw a contented smile brighten Draco's face.

Draco frowned at the cat that had now leapt into his lap. "Have you been slumming it with a Gryffindor, Petite Amie? Tsk, shame on you." He chastised the animal, but Harry knew that it was only for show. He suddenly realised Harry was talking to him, "No," he said congenially, "I'm not really busy right now. Thanks. Thanks for bringing her in." Good one, Draco. Can't you even apologise properly? Stupid prat you are. Just tell him you're sorry for misjudging him all these years! Draco didn't want to spoil the moment, but felt that he needed to get that apology out before it took over his life.

"I decided to bring her back when she started to take an interest in my dinner – I didn't think it wise to feed her – goodness knows she might decide that it is better in my rooms after all." Harry smiled as the tabby leapt from Draco's lap and rubbed up against his legs.

Petite Amie looked suitably guilty for all of about three seconds before pouncing onto the cushions in the corner of the sofa. Both men smiled at the cat's antics. Harry ran his hand nervously through his hair as he took the opportunity to look around Malfoy's rooms. He vaguely remembered how nice everything looked the night he had first visited them by accident, but now his infernal curiosity took hold.

"Would you like a drink, Harry?" Draco asked.

Harry blinked several times in honest surprise before nodding. "That would be nice."

He didn't fail to notice the comfortable chairs around the fire with their invitingly plump cushions. As he looked at them, Petite Amie winked at him before sharpening her claws on the silk. She looked at Draco defiantly as he headed over to the wine rack, and he scowled at her in response.

"She is sometimes the most infuriating animal... Comes in here and sharpens her claws on the same cushion every time. Why can't you sharpen your claws on a tree like a normal cat? Perhaps I should get Professor McGonagall in here to talk to you." In her usual disdain, Petite Amie completely ignored Draco's threats and turned around three times before sitting on that same cushion, her paws curled up under her legs.

Harry smirked at the exchange. It seemed the cat had the measure of her owner and knew how to make Malfoy do her bidding. As opposed to everyone doing their bidding for Draco. A familiar song came on the radio and Harry looked over at the Wizarding wireless. It suddenly occurred to him why it seemed odd to be listening to BBC1 in the middle of Hogwarts.

"Red or white?" Draco asked.

"Pardon?"

"Would you like a glass of red wine, or white wine? I'm just about to open a bottle. I wondered what you would prefer." Draco's hand hovered over a bottle in the rack by the door. Harry noticed that he was still leaning heavily on his walking cane, and wondered about the progress of that potion. If he were truly honest, that was the main reason why he decided to knock on Draco's door at such a late hour. Handing a possible cure to Malfoy and not hearing from him in nearly a week piqued his curiosity more than anything.

"I'm sure whatever you choose will be fine, Draco." Draco pulled out a bottle. Harry was surprised that Malfoy popped the cork with a manual corkscrew.

"What? No Refringero charm to open it?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Draco snorted. "Contrary to popular belief, Harry, not everything works best with magic. Sometimes magic can ruin a good bottle of wine."

"Oh, I realise that. But I must say, I'm just a little curious. Once upon a time I would never have thought you to ever do anything without magic. Just looking around your room here, it seems you have an awful lot of Mugglish things. Your books," Harry pointed to the haphazard pile of novels on the top of the bookcase, "and that station you have tuned on your wizarding wireless. I haven't heard BBC1 blaring for a while. I didn't think it would be your style," he admitted as Draco poured a glass of what looked to be a Rosé. Harry gratefully accepted the glass and sniffed the bouquet carefully.

"It's not poisonous, Harry."

Harry smirked. "I know." He took a tentative sip, savouring the spicy, full taste of the wine. It tasted rather familiar. "That's a Provencal Rosé." He seemed surprised; after all, he only finished his last bottle the night before.

Draco seemed surprised. "You know your wines. I'm impressed. I was sure you would not be able to pick that one." Even now, as they were walking tentatively on the edge of an uneasy friendship, Draco still wanted to gather the upper hand.

"Well I'm not really one for a red wine, but I don't mind a Rosé, and one of this calibre is one that I can appreciate. I only recently finished my last bottle." Harry looked at the label. "Hey, this is the same label as the one I had. Now I'm impressed, Draco. This is a bloody good label. Their wines are some of the best in France. I understand it's a wizarding winery as well." Draco failed to suppress a snort and could not help but grin widely.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, affronted by Draco's humour.

"Oh, nothing." But his grin widened even further. "I might just have to tell them back at my winery that we now have the official approval of the Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-World."

Harry was lucky he had already swallowed his wine. He coughed uncomfortably as Draco pointed out the very small, but visible Malfoy crest at the bottom of the label. "Well, I don't recall seeing that on the label before." He honestly couldn't, but he never admitted to paying attention to wine labels. Beyond the name and the year, he was much more interested in what was inside the bottle.

"Well, you must have bought it over in France. Labelling laws are a little different over there. Or perhaps you picked up one of the Muggle bottles."

"It's labelled differently for Muggles?" Harry seemed surprised.

"Of course, Harry. Statute of Secrecy and all that. Wouldn't want them to see the galloping horses on the label, would we? At least, not until they have drunk most of the bottle. I understand a few wizarding labels slip out into the Muggle world on occasion."

"But you sell wine to Muggles? Are you sure you are Draco Malfoy? I would never expect that of you. It just doesn't seem to be your style. None of this – the books, the wireless, the... the smoking. I'm still trying to come to terms with that. So forgive me if I have trouble believing you would sell wine to Muggles."

Draco seemed a little affronted, but wasn't angry. He had no right to be angry with Harry, and he raised some valid points. "What did you think my style would be, Harry?"

Harry thought for a few moments, noticing that very little in the room seemed like it could have exclusively belonged to Draco Malfoy. The furniture was well appointed, but it wasn't all green and black and silver. There weren't snakes on every visible surface. In fact, he was surprised at the sheer number of books in Draco's room, and the casual way they seemed to lend a homely atmosphere to the decor. He avoided letting his eye wander to the extremely large bed in the corner of the room. It seemed to be the only extravagance that Malfoy had in his possession.

He ended up shrugging. "I honestly don't know, Draco. I guess I still have difficulty trying to reconcile you with the uppity prat who mentioned the word 'Mudblood' more times than I care to remember. I'm sorry, I should not have said that." Harry really didn't want to bring up old battles. There was really no point. He honestly had no idea why he was still in Draco's rooms.

"No, it's okay." Draco thought now was a good time to apologise to Harry. "I was a little shit sometimes. But I guess I have had ample opportunity to discover the finer things about Muggle culture. Although I honestly don't care too much for some of the so-called music on BBC1, I just didn't want to have to hear the wizarding wireless mention your name every five minutes."

Harry laughed. "You're not the only one who's sick of that. I would love to know how you got it to pick up the station. You'll have to tell me how you did it." Harry thought he could apply the same charms to his television, but figured he could wait another couple of weeks, and then it wouldn't matter. He would be away from Hogwarts and he could watch television at any time.

For just a moment, both men realised the level of casual conversation, and it struck them at the same time. Draco coughed uncomfortably, and Harry stared down into his nearly empty glass. Draco knew the moment had come, but found, yet again, he could not get out the apology.

"Of course we sell wine to Muggles, Harry. No self respecting businessman would purposely avoid such a lucrative market." Why was he avoiding the bloody apology? Draco was furious at himself, and his anger seemed to show on his face.

Harry stood up to leave. "I should be heading out. Thanks for the wine," he said abruptly.

Draco knew why Harry had lingered so long, but knew he could salvage some of the evening's conversation. "I guess you're wondering about the potion you translated?"

Harry turned back as Draco walked slowly back over to his desk. "The thought had crossed my mind, yes."

Draco snorted again. "You're a terrible liar, Harry. You've been busting to know."

"Okay, you're right. I am more than insatiably curious. Why haven't you used it yet? It didn't seem all that complicated to brew. If I could follow the instructions, surely it shouldn't be so difficult."

"I'm having difficulty... acquiring one of the ingredients. I suppose it's to be expected with any ancient potion."

"Oh, I didn't realise... Is there anything I can do to help?" Harry asked quickly.

"No, you've done quite enough." Draco's words didn't come out exactly as he planned, and he saw the honest disappointment in Harry's face. "No, that wasn't what I meant."

"What did you mean, Draco?" Harry sounded hurt by the words, and Draco knew that any attempt to apologise now would fail miserably.

"I meant that you have done more than enough by translating the potion. I didn't mean to sound harsh. I can't ask you to do any more. But thank you for offering."

Harry seemed to understand Draco's frustration. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry..."

"Knock, knock," Remus poked his head around the door, which Harry had forgotten to close.

"Remus!" Draco smiled. Harry smiled and nodded as well. He was getting better at pushing away those feelings of jealousy, but they still wanted to come bubbling to the surface.

"Hey Remus."

"Oh, Harry. I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" Remus certainly had not expected to see Harry in Draco's quarters, but he quickly hid the look of surprise.

"No, actually, I was just leaving. Thanks again for the wine, Draco." Harry nodded before tapping Remus on the shoulder as he made his way out. Petite Amie offered a timid meow as he closed the door.

"How are things, Remus? I forgot to ask you about that rash last week. Did it go away on its own?" Draco seemed distracted. Remus didn't fail to notice the fact he was still watching the door as Harry left.

"Everything's fine, Draco. The rash did go away – nothing to worry about – I was just wondering how you were. Was Harry here for a social visit?" Remus wasn't sure what was going on between the pair – at least not when they interacted as themselves. He had some idea of what was going on between them in the journals. Remus had been a little concerned when Draco didn't show up for meals in the Great Hall. Ever since he discovered that Draco had his old journal, he could not stop thinking about the young man. He needed to come to terms with the fact that he was Harry's soul mate. He had overheard them talking as he walked past Draco's rooms.

"Glad to hear it was only temporary, Remus. And yes, Harry was here for a social visit." Draco said, somewhat guiltily.

"You've been rather quiet these last few days." With the knowledge he had about Harry and Draco's impending future, he felt somewhat obligated to the pair. He knew it was no use telling them the truth, but he could possibly try to make them see the worth in each other. It was the least he could do. For Harry, and for Draco. He realised he had plenty of interests in common with Draco, and they were slowly building a firm friendship. He would hate to lose that. Just as he would hate to lose Harry's trust.

He was definitely sitting in the middle of the rock and the hard place. He had been worried by Harry's depressed thoughts the day before, and he wondered what could have caused Draco to not talk to him in the journal. Remus could not help but sense the confused scents that pervaded the room. Both young men were in such turmoil, but there was still something between them that was stopping them from seeing the truth. That much was certain.

"Sorry, Remus. I've have been a little preoccupied with a potion." It was then that Draco wanted to share the details of the potion with Remus. Perhaps he knew of someone with Pegasus Wingtips. So far the search was futile, and he was ready to ask almost anyone. He nearly asked Harry, but couldn't quite bring himself to do so.

As he showed the translation to Remus, he accidentally brushed up against him. The touch of Remus' hand against his arm was unexpected, and Draco felt a sudden surge of desire. He shivered involuntarily from the touch, but quickly regained his composure. It had been too long since he had touched anyone. Those constant dreams were enough to take the edge off his desire, but as he thought back, he realised it had been quite some time since he had been with Jean-Paul.

I really do have to get out and have a shag. If accidentally touching Remus is making me feel like this, Merlin knows what will happen next. Remus had seemed unconscious of Draco's reaction – either that – or he was thoroughly disinterested. A petulant thought that he was losing his touch crossed his mind, but he swept it away before he could become distracted. It was just an accidental touch, for Merlins' sake.

"I don't know anyone off the top of my head who could help you, Draco, but I certainly have some contacts who might know. I can write some letters, if you think it might help." Remus also sensed Draco's quiet desperation about this curse cure. He had seen it too many times in himself. Every time there was a mention of a new cure for lycanthropy, he would eagerly weigh up the new claims.

Of course, Remus didn't fail to notice the sudden scent of desire that wafted from Draco as they accidentally bumped. Curse those bloody journals, he thought, remembering all too well the feelings and desires that accompanied stewardship of the magical artefacts. I hope that they realise soon what's happening – before it's too late! He coughed uncomfortably before concentrating on the parchment in Draco's hands.

"But you should be prepared for the worst. There's no use pinning all your hopes on this cure, Draco. I should know. I could tell you one or two stories about miracle cures."

"I don't doubt that you could, Remus. I just..." he had a sudden urge to blurt out all his frustration to his friend, but found a supportive hand now rested on his shoulder. "... I just get so excited about the possibility." he pointed to his knee as Remus nodded in understanding.

"Ah, possibilities – aren't they grand?" Remus smiled. "I must admit, it's healthy to dream about the possibility you could one day walk – or run down the street, but you can't rely on that sort of dream. You still have to live in the here and now." Remus reminisced about seeing the full moon with his own eyes, not those of the wolf. "I dream about it every day, Draco. Of course, I don't ever expect it to happen, and I continue to live each day as if that is but a pipedream. I dare not think about it any other way." Draco noticed the shine in his eyes at the prospect.

"Are you suggesting my Wolfsbane research is one of these pipedreams?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I am grateful for any assistance that you can offer. I know your motives for doing this, Draco, and I know you aren't trying to dupe me into any false sense of security. It's just nice to wake up after the moon and feel little more than hung over."

"Oh I doubt my research will ever extend to anything remotely like a cure. I just want to be able to make Wolfsbane easier and more cost effective to make, with fewer side effects... Did you just say hung over?"

"Yes, but before you ask, a Sobrietus charm does nothing. I've tried."

"Oh..." but Draco was already thinking of something he could do to next improve the Wolfsbane. If he tried a late release infusion of Sobrietus potion ingredients, it might make it even better.

Remus could see that Draco was now thinking ahead to his next project. It did no good for him to wallow over his own loss – Remus knew that better than anyone.

"But if there is one thing that I've learned, it's that you have to not only live with your injury and the curse – you have to accept it."

"What do you mean?" Remus' statement puzzled him.

"You live a very fulfilling life, Draco, and you have so much to offer – at least I think so. Don't let that injury rule your life – don't let the curse take over. Embrace it and accept it, then continue to live your life as if it never happened."

Draco looked at Remus strangely. What on earth was he talking about? Remus smiled.

"Look, I don't expect you to understand what I'm saying, but just don't let your injury stop you from doing what you want. Granted, there might be a few things that you will have difficulty with, but you will learn to get around them. Trust me. I have learned to work around those few days a month that I am somewhat indisposed."

Draco was silent, and Remus knew he had planted a seed.

"Perhaps there's someone you could talk to. What about that friend in your journal? He might help you to understand."

Draco smiled warmly at the mention of Flash. "Oh, he would. I don't doubt it."

"Or Harry. If he's here for a social visit, then perhaps you might talk to him about it. If you can just get that bug out of your arse about him."

"I do not have a bug in my arse, Remus! What on earth gave you such an idea?" Draco was affronted, almost angered.

Remus tapped his nose knowingly. "Look, Draco. I've been around for quite a while. I remember a pair of my former students. I also know that you have one trait that is inherent in your family line. I saw it in Sirius more times than I care to remember. You certainly inherited it from the Black family."

"How do you know Sirius Black?" he asked accusingly.

"I met Sirius when we were eleven and sorted into the same dorm room. I knew him quite intimately a number of years later." Remus didn't want to elaborate, or talk more about Sirius, but seeing Draco's unresolved blame towards Harry, it seemed like he was watching something of Sirius in his lover's younger cousin.

Comprehension dawned as Draco realised just how well Remus had known Sirius Black. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry. But what trait is it that makes you think I've got something to say to Harry." Draco didn't realise he had just confirmed Remus' speculation.

"You're suddenly all congenial towards Harry, and now he's making social visits?" Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Remus continued. "Don't worry, I know about Dumbledore's sideline in illicit charms. Sirius certainly gave me an earful when he was similarly afflicted. So you want to say something to Harry, but you think your pride will take a fall if you do."

Draco thought for a moment. Was it really his pride? Why couldn't he just apologise? It had been days now, and he was no closer than before. He nodded reluctantly.

"I seem to recall a former student of mine who always hated to admit he was wrong. Nobody likes to admit they are wrong, Draco. Sirius was very good at blaming others, yet awfully good at trying too hard to prove he was right, even though he was dreadfully wrong." Remus' voice softened at the memory. "His pride was one of his biggest downfalls."

Draco didn't know what to say to Remus. On one hand, he wanted to deny what Remus was saying, but on the other, he knew that he was totally right. It was hard to admit, but the way he described Sirius Black was exactly how Draco felt oft times.

"I don't know what's gone on between you and Harry, Draco. But it doesn't take a genius to see that you want to say something to him, but you're having difficulty. You can't change the past. Whatever it is, you have to accept it and move on."

Draco had been struggling for days, but just listening to Remus explain it all so very clearly, it began to make sense. "You're right, Remus. I was a prat, and did something really stupid. I'm trying to apologise to Harry, but how do you find the right moment?"

Remus shrugged. He was beginning to think he had meddled too much for one evening. "I admit that I am probably way too close to this situation, Draco. Have you thought about talking it through with someone who doesn't know Harry? What about your friend, Flash?"

Draco smiled again. "He would understand."

Remus smiled back. "Well then, no use telling me. You'll have to write it down. I'm sure he'll give you some very sound advice."

Remus certainly left Draco with plenty to think about that night.

June 6, Friday

Harry stumbled into breakfast quite late on Friday morning. He had barely slept a wink the night before, thanks to the Neo Death Eater's activities and their uncommon connection to his own magical power. His scar was still throbbing from the aftermath, leaving him with a pounding headache that no standard potion could counter. Skipping out on the morning's T'ai Chi, he regretted the fact he had been a little lax in his evening Occlumency in the past few evenings. He didn't need to read the morning paper to know the headlines.

"Harry, you look awful!" Remus put the paper down as Harry slid into his chair. The scrape of the chair against the stone floor sounded infinitely louder than usual. The Hall seemed quieter than normal as the students poured over their copies of the Daily Prophet with looks of grave concern. There was a sense of heightened anticipation across the room and the rest of the staff had grim looks as they also read the newspaper.

"How bad was it?" He murmured quietly as he shakily went for a cup of tea.

"You obviously have some idea, Harry." Remus replied, pushing the folded paper across to Harry. He saw the enormous headline splayed across the page, with a photo of a hovering Dark Mark above a popular Muggle cinema. He didn't really want to read all the gory details, not after having felt the intensity of their attack. He felt somewhat at a loss for having felt the attacks, particularly after having kept his power under control for so long.

"Just tell me the damage," he sighed wearily as he held his head in his hands.

Draco interrupted as he rattled his own paper. "It was completely random. There seemed to be no logical target, nor was there any apparent pattern to the attacks. They struck from Inverness all the way down to Lands End and across to Canterbury. The Dark Mark was spotted across Ireland as well. There are hundreds of Muggles dead across the country." He sounded grave.

Harry just sat and stared at the table. He knew it had been bad, but the entire country? How could they have managed to let it get so far out of hand? He frowned in disappointment.

"Harry?" Remus asked in concern.

He shrugged. "How did it get so bad? Surely someone must have known they were planning something."

"But normally you can tell..." Remus was quickly interrupted.

"Yes, but I've been working so hard on my control that I no longer feel them. I've managed to practically block them. I haven't felt them since before I left the Aurors! This could be all my fault." Harry snorted at the irony. "So now my control regime is working, and these Death Eater wannabes are out of control!" Harry seemed to think he was to blame, but before Remus could make Harry see reason, Draco interrupted.

"You can sense when they strike?" he asked curiously. He could not help but overhear their conversation.

Harry turned to look at Draco and nodded. "A nasty legacy of a certain Dark Lord, unfortunately. It's not just window dressing." He pointed at the scar as he dragged a hand wearily through his hair. It was dark and angry looking enough to stand out against his fair skin. Normally it was a faint pink that often faded to the silver of all old scars. But not this morning. "Still, it's been a fairly accurate barometer of their activity."

"So it's attuned to Dark Magic?" Draco asked further.

"Not all Dark Magic, Draco. After all, it doesn't sense the odd spell here or there. I don't get any twinges when you're waving your wand, if that's what you're asking." Harry really didn't need the questions this morning. He just wanted to go and sit quietly.

"How long has it been doing this?"

Harry shrugged. "As long as I can remember. Quirrell set it off back when we were first years, and it really started to go off when Voldemort came back. That's when my magic started to surge as well. It likes to respond when there is a large amount of Dark Magic being wielded. It has been known to get quite out of control at times, but I think you've seen that already." He remembered that day in the Leaky Cauldron those months ago.

He was waiting for some quick-witted barb from Draco, but was a little surprised when all he said was "I see."

Draco did see. For once he realised that Harry's scar was more than just a disfigurement. It also carried a disability. This current series of attacks worried Draco for a number of reasons. He could completely understand why most of the Muggleborn students were concerned. At least a half dozen of the students had lost family or friends in the attacks. The students would be due to head home in a week, and most were utterly terrified. No doubt a few of them would have remembered the attacks from the Second war during their childhood.

Harry had managed to pick up the paper and started to skim through the reports. Apparently most Muggles explained away the Dark Marks as a freak show of the Northern Lights. Their authorities had not made any logical connection between the dozens of deaths across the nation. He frowned as he threw away the paper in disgust.

"I just wish... I could do more." He addressed the comment at nobody in particular.

"Harry?" Remus seemed confused.

"Oh, it just frustrates me that I can't help. Even when I was an Auror they locked me away and tried to keep me out of the line of fire." Harry thought he had moved beyond all regrets about leaving the Aurors, but now he realised that he still felt at a loss whenever he knew he could help catch this rogue group of Dark Wizards.

He saw Draco watching him from the corner of his eye. Malfoy seemed to have just as many concerns of his own, and Harry absently wondered if these people had worked with Draco in the past. Did he know more than he was wiling to share?

"I have no idea who's behind it all, if that's what you're wondering." Draco somehow picked up on the unasked question even before it was fully formed in Harry's mind. Despite everything, there was still that lack of trust between them. Would it ever be possible for them to overcome that massive barrier?

Harry snapped out of his musing. "Oh, no, I'm not wondering about that. I'm just glad that I know it isn't you. Or someone like your father. I'd be more worried if it were. Whoever it is, they've got good funding, and they aren't original – they seem to want to recreate Voldemort's old order."

Draco coughed, nearly choking on his toast as Harry mentioned funding. The dry lump of bread stuck in his throat. He really didn't think it prudent to share that information with anyone, especially not Potter. The goblins were investigating that side of the Neo Death Eaters, and Draco knew their money would have to run out sooner or later. He hoped for everyone's sake that it was sooner.

Remus interrupted. "Do you have any inkling who might be behind them, Draco? Does this look like the work of anyone you worked against in the war?" Draco noticed the wording of Remus' statement. Worked against. A least some people recognise I was against the Death Eaters.

He sighed. "I know that Theo Nott is involved. He decided to pay me a little visit a few weeks ago."

"Oh?" Harry gave Draco a very sceptical look, his green eyes searching Draco's face.

"Don't worry, the Aurors know all about it. I've got nothing to hide."

"I don't doubt that, Draco." Harry said, a little too quickly.

"Oh, I think you do, Harry. I think you do – just a little bit. I want these fools caught just as much as you do, but I really don't want to get into a debate about it right now." Draco didn't want to get angry with Harry, but it infuriated him to think that Harry still harboured doubts about his allegiance.

"You can trust me on this. I have no love for these fools, and despite what you might think, I want to see them captured just as much as you. Possibly more so. If you don't believe me, then you should talk to Weasley. He might enlighten you." He scrabbled around in the pocket of his robe for a moment, pulling out a small vial. He handed it over to Harry. "Here, it's a painkiller. It's a fair bit stronger than what you probably have on hand, but it won't knock you about."

Harry could see the façade was well gone from Draco's features and he realised that Malfoy was attempting to be honest with his words and his kind offering. It surprised him, but he appreciated the gesture. He nodded a thank you as Draco stood and walked slowly away from the table and back into the halls. He quickly downed the potion, feeling somewhat more human after only a few seconds.

Wow, that's bloody good stuff. Harry immediately felt some of the strongest pain subside. Did Draco make it himself? Of course he did. He was left pondering Draco's emphatic words and wondering just what on earth Ron could know about Malfoy that he hadn't already shared. Ron was rarely one to keep secrets.

As the painkilling potion began to work, Harry managed some breakfast and cast a casual eye over the tragic news in the paper. One story grabbed his attention and he was drawn into it as his heart momentarily skipped a beat.

With so many random attacks, it was sheer bad luck that drew a few wizards into the widespread carnage. One victim of the crossfire was Lucas Fournier, 25, a former Paris resident recently transferred to London under his mentor, Myrnon Bagnall at the Ministry of Sports. Fournier was the former Seeker of the French national Quidditch team, but he retired after the war due to injury. Fournier, a qualified Potions master, was assisting the Ministry in research into stopping the widespread use of Performance Enhancing Potions within the professional Quidditch League. Fournier, a keen follower of Muggle culture, was caught in the largest attack on a cinema (a place where Muggles go to watch continuous photographs that include sound) in Manchester. 147 Muggles were also targeted by these Neo Death Eaters in the same attack. It is unknown at this stage if he was the intended target, but as he was dressed as a Muggle, it is highly unlikely. Many Muggles in Manchester knew Mr Fournier, due to his regular visits to some of the city's alternative clubs. A keen epicurean and semi professional wine taster, he will be fondly remembered by fans for his flamboyant lifestyle and amazing Quidditch prowess.

Harry never made it to the end of the story as his heart resumed at a frantic pace. Lucas... Luc... Paris... mentor... former seeker... injury... Potions master... alternative... flamboyant... The bottom fell out of Harry's world as he began to make connections. Please, Merlin, no... not Luc. Luc can't... it just can't be!

Before he could think further, he leapt out of his chair. Remus called out behind him, but he had one goal. Suddenly things seemed perfectly clear, but he had to know. With no care for anyone or anything in his way, Harry raced back to his room. He did not hear Remus' persistent calling that followed him there. Leaving his door wide open, he headed straight for his desk and tore open the journal, not caring that he tore a few of the pages in the process. He nearly spilled his ink as he tried several times to dip the quill. He had to calm himself for a moment before he could eventually put the quill to the page.

Luc, I've just seen the paper. I know this might be wrong, I don't even know if Lucas is your real name, but… oh gods, please Luc, are you there? Lucas Fournier… he was killed last night in the raids… It's just… he left Paris around the same time you did, and he was killed in a Muggle theatre and I know how you like the cinema and I really don't know what I would do with myself if that was you… I can't bear to think of losing you now, when I've only just found you after all this time.

"Harry," Remus stood in the door as he watched Harry's frantic entry in the journal. He had no idea what had caused him to rush out of the hall and appear more rattled than when he first arrived. Harry seemed absorbed in his writing, not hearing him. He called again. "Harry! Hey, stop!" He walked closer, seeing Harry's shaky writing. He thought he could see tears in Harry's eyes, but there was definitely something wrong. "Hey, Flash!" Remus resorted to the nickname – the one that he knew Harry used in the journal in lieu of his true identity.

Harry eventually looked up in surprise, his attention definitely gained from the name, and Remus could see that he was distraught. "Harry – talk to me. What the hell is wrong?" Remus sat on the edge of the table as he spoke.

Harry's eyes focussed on Remus, then looked back down at the words on the page. The desperation and worry in his face was evident. He dropped the quill and sat back as he buried his face in his hands. "Oh Remus! What am I going to do?"

"Well, I can't help you until you tell me what is going on."

"I... you were right the other night. I was pining. Luc means so much to me Remus. I know it might sound crazy and ridiculous – I have no idea why, but I've just made the most startling realisation." Harry's face brightened for just a moment before he returned to his quiet despair.

"Oh?" Remus suspected what Harry was about to say.

Harry laughed but quickly his laughter soured. "I'm in love, Remus. Luc means everything to me. But I think he might be gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" Remus didn't quite make the connection. He was still too pleased that Harry made the connection – finally.

Harry returned to his quill and pointed it at the paper that was folded under Remus' arm. "I'm fairly certain he's one of the victims – that Lucas Fournier – it's too coincidental that he likes all the things that 'Luc' likes. I have to write... if there is a slim chance that he's not..." Harry paused, "... I just have to know."

"Don't you think it's a little far fetched—" Remus couldn't quite tell Harry the truth, but he didn't want to see him hurt unnecessarily.

"I don't know, Remus – I don't know anything any more. Ever since this journal landed in my lap, my life has changed considerably. Luc has been there every step of the way..." he sighed and sat back again, the headache seeming to return. "Why, Remus?"

Remus was taken aback by the question. "Why what?"

"Why, out of all the things that Sirius kept of his life, why did he keep this tattered old journal? Why did he keep it and why did I find it? Why have I fallen in love with someone I've never met, yet I feel closer to than anyone in my entire life?" Harry looked up at Remus pleadingly, his eyes so full of emotion that Remus nearly caved. But Harry soon looked away and continued his ramble. "What the fuck is this journal doing to me, Remus? Why have I fallen in love with a man I've never met?"

"Only Sirius could have answered that question for you, Harry." Remus felt so awful for lying to Harry, but he didn't need any more shocks at the present time. "He wrote in it day and night, and I'm fairly certain he was at his happiest when he wrote. I'm sure he would have wanted the same for you. You'll find that with any magical artefact, it will probably reveal its true purpose when the time is right. Think about what compelled you to write in this in the first place."

"But..." Harry gave in to despair and continued to write to Luc. He didn't know what else to do.

I'm hoping beyond hope that you're just busy working, or having breakfast or something, but I'll be checking b--

"Harry," Remus put his hand on Harry's arm, but Harry knocked it away.

"I have to know, Remus. I have to see that he isn't Luc. I need to know if I'm never going to hear from him again."

"Oh, I think you are overreacting, Harry."

"Why WON'T you answer!" Harry yelled down at the journal, his whole body shaking now from the emotion.

"He's probably having breakfast, Harry." Remus tried to calm him, but to no avail.

"This is so typical of my life, Remus. Just when I think I find something, it's either destroyed or it nearly destroys me."

"So why are you worried now?" Remus saw the first few words of green ink appear below Harry's words.

"Why? Remus, I just finished—" but Harry didn't finish his sentence as Remus pointed out the emerald ink. The relief was palpable on Harry's face as he saw it. Remus patted him on the shoulder and walked away. He closed the door quietly behind Harry and made his way to his own classroom. As he passed Draco's room, he said a silent prayer to the gods to thank them for Draco's timely reply.

He made a mental note to go and speak with a certain shopkeeper after classes. She had a lot of explaining to do.

Harry barely realised that Remus had left. He was so glad to see Luc's words, his tears of despair quickly turned to tears of joy.

Hey there Flash. Calm down. I read the Prophet as well. Take a breath. I'm here - I was just eating breakfast. Oh thank the gods! Hello Luc. You don't know just how glad I am to see you. More than anything. Are you all right then? After the attacks... Yes, I'm perfectly fine, although you seem frantic! I just came in and saw the journal pages rustling like mad. I had to hold it down to stop it from leaping off the table. I was frantic. I had this horrid image of never seeing your writing in this journal again, never getting to talk to you anymore, never having the chance to meet you in person, to argue about wine choices, to share favourite books together, to tell you... I was never in any danger, Flash. Everyone around here is in a panic because of the attacks. Pandemonium is about to be let loose. It will calm down when we catch those bastards and I'll still be here to argue wine and books with you for a long time yet - I'm not planning on going anywhere. What is it you want to tell me? That's just it. I don't know that I can think rationally right now. I was interrupted just after I started writing. A friend followed me after I saw the Prophet and was trying to see what was wrong. I only realised while I was talking to him, while I was so worried that I'd lost you.. but now I've taken a moment to reflect and I know that it wasn't just the panic. I can't believe I didn't know this before... Know what?

Harry took a deep breath, centring himself before responding. He was nervous, still shaking, but now with anticipation and the release of pent up emotions, rather than the adrenalin of pure fear and anxiety. He knew now, without a doubt, and knew that if he didn't take this opportunity to admit his feelings, just once… if he said nothing and later lost the chance, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

I... Merlin, I don't know how to say this, but... I love you. I mean, really. I'm in love with you. I can't imagine my life without you, and I really don't want to. Please don't freak out or go away. I promise I won't stalk you or push the issue. I just had to tell you, now, while I have the chance, just in case I never have that chance again. You don't have to say anything else about it.

Draco didn't know what to say. Flash thought he was in love with him? He paused, not really knowing what to say. But I don't love Flash, at least, not in that way. I only love him as a friend.

Harry noticed the long pause and wasn't surprised. People don't often blurt out their feelings of love to complete strangers in journals. But he's not a complete stranger. Thank Merlin Luc is not injured. I just hope I haven't bollixed it up by telling him. I know it's true, and it's definitely Luc I love.

I really don't know what to say to that, Flash. I'm... well, I'm speechless, for once. I honestly don't know how to respond. Are you sure you're not just reacting to the current situation? You've just had a huge scare. I'm sure. Really sure. Comments from my friends, reactions I've had to things you say, that dream I told you about... it all makes sense now. But don't worry, you don't have to say anything. Really. I don't expect a response, I just wanted you to know. Please don't be upset that I can't say the same here, Flash. I am truly flattered. Are you sure you know it's love? Or do you only think so? I mean, you really don't know me. Well, you do, but there are things that you don't know - things that are part and parcel of my life that I might have neglected to mention to keep my anonymity. Could you honestly still say that if I told you? I believe I could. If it makes you feel better to think I'm mistaken, that's okay... or if you want to tell me those things and test my sincerity, that's okay too. I'm not upset, now that you're there. In fact, now that I know you're safe, and I've realised how I feel about you, I feel calmer than I have in a good while. I love you, Luc. I believe that with all my heart, but I mean it when I say I don't want to push anything. I would rather have you as a friend than not at all. I really feel badly that I can't reciprocate those feelings, but I do know for a fact that I couldn't bear to be without you and this journal in my life - at least as a friend. I love having you around to talk to. You listen, you make me laugh, and you make me see reason when I'm too proud and stubborn to see it for myself. I don't think I would quite know what to do if this journal were to vanish tomorrow. And yes, I'm also very glad I'm safe - and you as well. I guess if these Neo Death Eaters are going to keep at it we all have to say what we feel. I hope they catch those bastards. I actually knew Lucas Fournier. Well, not terribly well, but I did see him around a fair bit in Paris. What made you think he was me? Don't feel bad. please. And that's all I'm going to say about that! Okay. But will you be all right? You can't just go blurting things like that and expect to be fine when you don't hear the answer you want, or expect. As for thinking you were Lucas Fournier... well there just seemed to be a lot of coincidences, I suppose. Like I said, he came over here from Paris around the same time you did, to return to working with an old mentor. He doesn't play Quidditch anymore because of an injury, and it said that he was here to work on his research. I also knew he was gay, so when I read all that in the Prophet, it stuck out vividly. When they said that he was killed at a Muggle cinema, I immediately thought about you. Yes, I'll be all right. I didn't expect any particular answer from you. Hell, when I started writing I was so panicked by the thought you were gone, I honestly didn't expect any response at all. Oh, there do seem to be quite a few coincidences. When you read them listed like that, it does look like it could be me. Well if it's any consolation, I'm a long way away from any of last night's attacks, and I know from experience that it would take more than a few pretend Death Eaters to get rid of me! Their predecessors never managed to get rid of me during the war, no matter how hard they tried! That's good to know. Yes, I'm glad too.

Harry felt so calm and centred. Part of him was still shocked that he admitted the truth to Luc, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew it was right. The journal had always dragged the truth out of him. Why would that suddenly change now? A small nagging thought in the back of his mind was a little disappointed that Luc didn't share his feelings to the same extent, but he understood that it might seem incredible. He was just going to have to meet Luc and prove to him that the reality lived up to the image that was portrayed in the journal.

Although he didn't have Friday classes, the Quidditch Cup final was being played on Saturday, and Harry wanted to gear the teams up for what was going to be a grand match. Harry reluctantly admitted that the Slytherin team were a very slick unit that probably could have blown his old Gryffindor team out of the stands. Even on the old Nimbus 2001's that Lucius Malfoy had bought for the Slytherin team a dozen years earlier, they were unbeatable.

For once, Harry wasn't doing the T'ai Chi, but he was guiding the two teams of students as they followed his guidance. He spoke quietly, but his voice could be heard clearly across the entire courtyard. "Now, breathe in before you start the next count to twelve. Try not to concentrate too hard on getting the motions correct – you'll block the flow of chi if you do that. Just move in a natural rhythm as you count, pushing away at that bundle of nerves as you increase your body of energy. Front and back, left and right, up and down. We're in a continuous looping flow..."

He spotted a familiar face walking up to the school, and waved, but he was surprised when Ron didn't notice him. He seemed somewhat agitated, if not a little angry. Harry wondered what the problem could be, but he shrugged it off. He would find out soon enough, as Ron was no doubt heading up to visit him. The session with the students was nearly over, so he would head back to the castle very soon. He was just a little curious, however, as to why Ron was there so early, and without Hermione. They were all due to meet for dinner that night to discuss wedding plans. Actually, they would be having dinner, and Hermione would be telling them what would be expected of them. Just like old times.

At the thought of Ron and Hermione's happiness, Harry again experienced the wonderfully light feeling of freedom that enveloped him as he realised his own sense of love. He loved Luc, and it made complete sense. This wasn't the same as when he thought he was in love with Oliver. He didn't need anyone to reassure him. This was right - almost perfect in fact. Now all he had to do was convince Luc of the same thing, and things would be perfect.

His irrepressible mood was thoroughly obvious as he watched the students attempt the basic forms, and found himself unconsciously breathing in time with them. The Ravenclaws were sceptical at first about Harry's intentions in bringing them to the courtyard instead of down to the pitch. However, as they finished their routine, he found the entire group smiling and looking quite relaxed. Harry beamed. "Excellent! Not bad for your first attempt, everyone. Remember that T'ai Chi forms help to keep your mind calm and can help you to keep your balance, rhythm and fine motor skills in top form. Even your magic will be more in focus if you continue to do these exercises. Trust me on that one, guys. I'm sure that will help all of you to do your very best out there in tomorrow's game. We'll do this again in the morning. How does half six sound?"

There were surprisingly few groans at the early hour Harry suggested. Most students nodded. "Thanks, Professor," a number of them yelled and waved as they headed off. He could see the Slytherin seeker, Damien Michaels hanging around, but Harry waved him off to the next class. He wanted to talk to Ron, not listen to Michaels asking for yet more coaching and Seeker practice.

Just as he turned to head back into the castle, shrill voices wafted down from Malfoy's rooms. An exceedingly familiar drawl was quickly followed by Ron's deep tone snapping back bitterly. Damn. It was apparent that Ron had bumped into Draco and they were trading their usual venomous barbs. Harry rushed up to stop them. He didn't need Ron barging in and spoiling what little progress he seemed to have made with forging a civil relationship with Draco.

He paused outside Draco's door. Their conversation was heated, but something stopped Harry from entering straight away. What does Ron know about Draco that he didn't tell me? He kept back for a moment, curiosity winning out over the desire to keep them apart.

Draco had certainly not expected Ron Weasley on his doorstep just as lunch was ending. He had spent half the morning trying to come to terms with Flash's rather sudden admission. Flash fancied himself in love with Luc. How could he respond to that? He had no idea, but honestly felt dreadful that he didn't feel exactly the same way. In his pondering, he realised he had nearly forgotten to finish the weekly orders, and he now would have to madly rush them off if they were to get to London in time. It was only after reluctantly allowing the git to come in that he realised what he might be there to discuss. His hopes immediately plummeted.

Not wanting to hear the inevitable rejection just yet, Draco sat back at his desk and continued to work, ignoring the redhead as he carefully filled out the order for vials and bottles. He knew this would infuriate Weasley, but he wasn't going to let him gain the upper hand. Not if he was there for the reason he suspected.

"Look, Malfoy, I didn't just come here for my health," Ron sounded highly frustrated as Draco continued to ignore him.

"I certainly didn't ask you to come here. I thought I made my request quite simple," Draco retorted without making eye contact. He continued to scribble the quill across the orders.

Ron sighed in frustration. "Well then why did you send us your 'request'? The bloody Goblins asked me to come here and find out exactly why you want access to Malfoy Manor. You know they hate coming to Hogwarts."

"I'm flattered that you actually thought to deliver the news in person, Weasley. You read my letter, obviously. Surely even you could understand what I was asking for." Draco still avoided eye contact with Ron, but knew he couldn't goad him too far. He really did need to get access to the Manor. It was his last hope.

Draco was exhausting all avenues of finding any Pegasus Wingtips. An old memory had niggled at his thoughts for a few days, but it suddenly woke in the early hours a few nights before. A quickly penned letter to the Fiscal Investigative Goblins would hopefully get him what he wanted. But he needed to get into Malfoy Manor to be certain. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance he had left.

"I did read your letter. What makes you think that we will grant your request?" Ron was also going to play games. Draco was impressed. Somehow he had learned to mind his manners and not fly off the handle immediately. Perhaps there was some hope yet. But he wasn't about to show Weasley just how desperate he was to get into the Manor. He knew if he did, then the git was just as likely to say no out of spite.

Draco realised he was going to have to be nice to Weasley if he was going to get any hope of getting into his Grandperé's old potions lab in Malfoy Manor. Abraxas had left a grand legacy behind, and it suddenly came to Draco that there was undoubtedly a wealth of old and obscure ingredients in the well stocked lab. Lucius was never one for his own brewing and had kept the rooms under a series of strict locking charms. As ever curious as Draco was, he had managed to break into the lab in the summer after his father was incarcerated in Azkaban, but Lucius locked it up again after his triumphant return to the Manor. Draco always intended on returning one day with his mastery and blast the charms away to call the lab his own.

Draco's memory was dim, but he remembered the entire potions store that was kept under several strong preservation charms. He recalled seeing such obscure items as crushed Dementor dung and dried Basilisk eyes. He wasn't about to tell Weasley the exact reason why he wanted to visit the Manor, but he had his story already worked out.

"Actually, Weasley, if you read my request, then you know that I'm really not asking for much. If I can just check the potions stores in the Manor, I can see if I am wasting my time on my latest research, or if I can continue. People are going to benefit from this, Weasley." Draco was vague on purpose, but he didn't need for Ron to know that he would be the one benefiting if he did find some Pegasus Wingtips.

Ron looked around the room and spotted the comfortable chair by the fire. He plopped down into it, without being asked. "Do you really think I would buy that bullshit, Malfoy? I'm going to need to know the real reason why you want in before I let you get within a hundred feet of that place."

Draco was barely keeping his own temper in check. Fuck, he thought. "How can I prove that I'm being genuine, Weasley?"

"I have no idea, Malfoy," Ron retorted quickly. "The Goblins still aren't convinced that you are as innocent as you make out. I'm still not convinced. How thick do you think we are?"

Draco swore under his breath. "Do you think I enjoy this arrangement, Weasley? One minute I discover that my so-called trustees have nearly taken me for every galleon, then the FIGs want to investigate it thoroughly. They put you in charge and then I hear nothing at all. When am I going to get my birthright back, Weasley?"

"As much as I love to gloat about the fact that you've been forced down into reality, Malfoy, I have no control over the Goblins' investigation. Of course, if you weren't so stupid enough in the first place..."

Draco was close to losing his well-guarded temper, but took a deep breath before speaking. "I'm actually working here and I don't have all day to listen to you gloat over my dire financial situation. How do I know that you aren't embezzling me too?"

Ron snickered. "Oh, yes. I Apparate all the way from London just to tell you that since I've been the one managing your finances, I've kept things from getting any worse. Don't worry that pretty little blond head of yours, Malfoy. I'm not going to lose you any money. At least no more than you lost on your own."

"Why you..." Draco never made it up from his desk. Ron leapt across the room and had his wand pointed at Draco's throat.

"Are you threatening me, Malfoy? I'd really like to know, because I'm really not in the mood for granting you access to Malfoy Manor. Those assets have been frozen, in case you had forgotten."

"Oh, no, I hadn't forgotten, Weasley. You obviously take great delight in reminding me of just how bad things are." Draco sighed has he realised he was going to have to tell him everything. "My Grandfather's potions store is under the Manor, and I would like permission to access it as I am fairly certain that there is a rare ingredient there that cannot be sourced elsewhere. I don't want access to anything else, and I certainly don't want to take anything from the house. Merlin knows you've probably got some tracing hex on everything there. How thick do you think I am?" Draco stood up slowly as he explained his need to Ron.

"No." Ron smirked as he handed down his verdict. He laid the word down as a challenge, expecting Draco to attack.

Draco's mouth quirked – the mole above his lip fading as he realised that his history with Ron Weasley was going to prevent him from getting his knee cured. He could only assume it was some form of punishment for years of acting like a complete arse to the other wizard.

"You had to come all the way here to tell me that? I can't bloody scratch my balls without asking for fucking permission from you lot." Draco didn't question Ron's verdict.

"I didn't think Malfoy's scratched their balls," Ron quipped in reply. Draco just sniffed.

"Is that your final answer, Weasley? You're not letting me go to the Manor because you are feeling the need to impart your manhood in some way?" The time for playing it safe was over if Ron was going to deny his request.

Harry lurked behind the door, stunned by what he was hearing. Someone had embezzled Draco's money – and now Ron was in charge of the Malfoy estate? How on earth did that happen – who would be stupid enough to do that to a Malfoy? Harry could not believe what he was hearing, but it did clear up a few questions about why he was working with Snape, and why he wasn't flaunting his wealth around like he did as a child. But why is Ron involved, and why won't he let Draco go back to the Manor? What's the big problem? He suppressed the urge to cough as he listened further through the crack in the door. He was more interested now in finding out what was going on than stopping them from going at each other's throats.

"Actually, Malfoy. The Goblins did ask me to assess whether or not you are being completely honest." Ron sounded triumphant and cocky.

Draco dropped all sense of pretence. "What do they mean by that?"

"Oh, just that they were concerned when you mentioned that you were approached by a Death Eater..."

"But I wrote to them so that they knew. I wasn't hiding anything. I'm not hiding anything now, Weasley." Draco was beginning to think it had all been a mistake to ask for access to Malfoy Manor.

"They are curious as to your whereabouts last night, and the nights previous this week. First your money is embezzled by the Neo Death Eaters, then you claim they approach you. How do we know you aren't one of them?"

Draco sighed heavily. He knew it had been too good to be true. Someone still thought he was a Death Eater. "What do I have to do to prove I'm not, Weasley? I have only been open and honest with you since the moment you discovered that the bloody Neo Death Eaters were syphoning galleons from my inheritance to pay for their cursed plotting and scheming. I am not in league with them, Weasley. If I find any of them, I'll probably end up in Azkaban for killing the lot of them. Don't you dare try to accuse me of siding with them." Draco's temper flew as he released his pent up anger.

Ron backed down just a bit and seemed perplexed. "So you weren't in Hogsmeade on Tuesday night?" he asked.

"No, I wasn't in Hogsmeade on Tuesday, Weasley. Why would you think I'd be there?" Draco was the one who was now puzzled.

"Because two of your former trustees were found dead. Both had been poisoned, Malfoy, with a very subtle and hard to detect poison. Something right up your alley."

Draco had no answer for that, and quickly sat down again.

Ron was still not finished. He took Draco's actions as a sign of defeat. "You'd do anything to get your fortune back, Malfoy." Ron sneered and he stared Draco down. "It must hurt to know what the Neo Death Eaters did with the millions of galleons they stole from you. I think that would be sufficient motive to kill the men who embezzled you."

Harry was still eavesdropping on the conversation, but realised it had taken a much more serious turn. The Neo Death Eaters embezzled the money – and now those that did it are turning up dead – with a poison? Some of it was making perfect sense, yet some of it seemed too incredible. The Neo Death Eaters were well funded because they stole millions from the Malfoy Estate.

But Harry thought it was completely out of line for Ron to accuse Draco of this murder – he wasn't in Hogsmeade Tuesday night. Nodding carefully, Harry realised it was time to step into the conversation. Just as he was about to knock, Petite Amie leapt off the couch and pushed her way out through the crack in the door. As she did so, the door opened further, and Draco spotted Harry standing there.

Draco looked somewhat relieve to see Harry. Ron noticed his gaze and turned, smiling smugly as he still pointed his wand loosely in Draco's direction. The guilt was plain on Harry's face and Draco realised that he most likely overheard the conversation. So much for my secrets. Harry knows now. It's not how I really wanted him to find out.

"Come in, Harry." Draco was cordial, acknowledging with a slight nod the fact that Harry had been eavesdropping. He probably couldn't help it. Weasley is a loudmouth. I'm surprised he kept quiet for so long and not blabbed to Harry.

Ron smiled at Harry, but Harry didn't respond with his usual casual smile. "You're looking after Draco's money now?" was the only question that fell out of Harry's mouth.

Realising Harry had overheard, Ron grinned, "Yeah, funny, isn't it? But don't worry, Harry. The FIGs want to investigate the ferret's role in a couple of murders in Hogsmeade last Tuesday."

"Are you sure you should be doing that, Ron?" Both Ron and Draco seemed surprised at Harry's question.

"Since when have you cared, Harry. I thought I would be doing a favour getting this git out of your hair." Ron turned back to Draco. "I need to know, Malfoy. Where were you? If we find anything untoward that you've done, you can kiss the rest of your fortune goodbye. The Goblins won't be happy." But I will, was the unspoken end to Ron's sentence.

Harry knew Draco was fuming. He was usually this quiet before a massive outburst. The mole above his lip was set in stone – another sign of his fury. Ron's temper was blatantly obvious. Harry wondered how this strange financial arrangement had come about, but he didn't have time to ponder that now. He didn't want them at each other's throats any longer.

Ron looked at Draco warily. "I have your measure, Malfoy. I know that you would do anything to avoid losing the rest of your inheritance – even to the point of doing something drastic to get back at those that embezzled you. It's such a Slytherin trait. Who's going to support you then, Malfoy?"

"Do you have evidence that it was Draco?" Harry spoke quietly and rationally to his friend. "The goblins might want you to investigate, but unless you have proof, you can't go making those accusations, Ron."

"Yes, Weasley, Harry is right. I wasn't in Hogsmeade on Tuesday night. I didn't leave the castle at all that day, if the truth be known. I was also here all day Wednesday." Draco was grateful that Harry was making his over zealous friend see some sense.

"Ron." Harry wanted Ron to calm down. He was getting worked up into a state, and he didn't want to have to be the one to deliver him back to Hermione after he had been hexed. Harry didn't fail to notice that Draco's hand was itching to reach for his own wand. He was surprised he restrained himself this long.

"Stay out of this, Harry. This is none of your business."

"But it is, Ron." Both men turned to look at Harry, one in surprise, the other in vindication. "I'll vouch for Draco. After all, I was here with him on Tuesday night. He wasn't in Hogsmeade."

Ron was dumbfounded, then suddenly suspicious. "What curse has Malfoy put you under, Harry? Since when have you been socially passing the time with the likes of him?"

Harry waved Ron away. "Since I've decided to get over petty childhood squabbles, Ron. Draco could not have been in Hogsmeade. I was in this very room on Tuesday night – with him."

Ron looked totally aghast. It was only then that Harry realised how his words had sounded. "No Ron, not like that. We were talking and drinking wine." Harry managed to shed a smile at his friend's expense. Even Draco's lip curled into a small smile at the idea.

"Oh," was all Ron could say. "Since when have you been referring to him as Draco?" he asked in disbelief. Ron still seemed to think that Harry was under some curse of Malfoy's doing.

"We can talk about this later, Ron. I think you've taken up enough of Draco's time for one day." Harry put a hand on his friend's shoulder and began to guide him out the door. "We need to talk."

Ron didn't offer any form of goodbye to Draco as Harry herded him out. Before he closed the door, he turned to look at Draco. "I'm sorry, Draco. It was none of my business overhearing that."

Draco nodded, "But you have a right to know, Harry. I said that I have no love for the Neo Death Eaters. Now you know why."

"I'll see if I can't talk some sense into Ron. I might be able to convince him to let you into the Manor." Harry didn't need to elaborate on the fact he knew why Draco wanted access to a store of rare potions ingredients.

"Thank you." Draco found he was genuinely grateful to Harry for the offer. If anyone could talk some sense into the weasel, then Harry would be the one to do so.

Harry got more than an earful from Ron as they waited for Hermione in the Leaf and Bean after work. He had hoped they would have a relaxing evening, but Ron's stubbornness was putting a dampener on their evening. He seemed unwilling to put the afternoon's discussion with Draco behind them, and frankly ruined Harry's anticipation at bringing Ron and Hermione to visit his new favourite shop. He had wanted to see the sheer joy on Hermione's face, and the equal look of despair on Ron's as she wandered through the store's shelves.

The place was crowded; they were lucky to get a table that had enough seats. Not that Hermione needed one for she was up and browsing the stacks of books before they ordered any tea. "Why on earth did you drag us here, Harry?" Ron asked despairingly. "We'll never get her out now!"

"Because someone needs to sit down and listen to me for a change, Ron," Harry suddenly became serious.

"What has come over you lately, Harry?" Ron wondered aloud. "Who on earth discovered this place?" he asked absently.

"Oh, Remus brought me here, but he apparently knows the proprietor. Draco told him about the place."

Ron put his teacup down carefully as he tried not to choke. "Draco! Harry, I am seriously worried about you. First you start to defend him, next you tell me you're drinking wine with him in his rooms? Is there something you're not telling me? I still think he's hexed you or something."

"No, but Dumbledore did." Harry went on to explain what the headmaster had done to make them 'behave more like adults'.

"Blimey, Harry!" If Ron's eyes were any wider, they would have fallen out into his tea after listening to his tale. "So now you can't call him Malfoy? I am so sorry for you Harry. It must be torture having to be near him – and he's in rooms next to yours? I'd be getting a really good Sneakoscope..."

It was then that Harry saw an opportunity to help Draco. "You know, Ron, Draco has been working very hard on the Wolfsbane potion. Remus is looking better than he has in years. What harm would come of you letting him look for old potions ingredients at Malfoy Manor?" He realised after overhearing their conversation that the reason Draco had not brewed the curative potion was that he must have been looking for a rare ingredient. Harry admitted he had never heard of half the ingredients he had been reading about as he transcribed Slytherin's old book. If there were ingredients at the Manor, then he wanted to make sure Draco could get his hands on them. He didn't need to see Draco in any more pain.

Ron's eyes bulged in disbelief. "Have you gone nutters, Harry? This is Malfoy we're talking about! If we let him into that den of Dark Arts on the pretext of some old potions ingredient, who's to say he won't take other stuff?"

Harry became defensive for a moment. "The Aurors scoured Malfoy Manor for dark artefacts many years ago, Ron – with the complete cooperation of Draco, I might add. What could he possibly take, Ron?"

Ron took a large sip of tea, fervently wishing it were something a lot stronger. "I'm not supposed to be talking about this with anyone, Harry. You shouldn't have been listening in."

"Too late now, Ron. But you can't accuse him of those murders. You seem to forget that he was on our side of the war." Harry commented. Ron was tight lipped. Ron was reluctant to admit that Harry was right. He just couldn't believe that Harry was supporting Draco in this.

"Just think about letting him get whatever smelly old ingredients he wants, Ron. If it can help him with his research, then it will be others who will benefit, not him." Harry had one final idea. "Look, if it makes it any easier, why not allow me to accompany him to the Manor. Surely he can't do anything wrong with an ex Auror watching over him."

Just then, Remus walked into Emmaline's, smiling warmly at his old friend as they began to chat. He looked over the crowd for a table, noticing Harry talking to Ron. He smiled and waved. Ron noticed Harry's attention wavering, and he turned and spotted Remus and found an opportunity to change the subject.

"So, Harry. How's Remus?" Ron was worried about Harry. Not only because he seemed a little overly friendly with Malfoy, but because he knew it was well past time for Harry to settle down. After hearing what he got up to with his brother, he had every reason to help his best friend find someone.

Harry had been acting strange all evening, and Ron had noticed more than once that Harry had been eyeing off the werewolf in a longing way. He seemed awfully supportive of Malfoy's research into Wolfsbane. Ron might not be the most observant wizard around, but he knew Harry better than anyone. "Are you bringing Remus to my stag night?"

Harry seemed momentarily distracted. He could overhear snatches of Remus talking to Emmaline in French, and he was fighting a very strong physical reaction. "What? No, I'm not bringing him, Ron. But if you want me to invite him, then he will probably come along. And before you get it in your head, there is nothing between us. We are just friends."

Harry knew who he would have liked to bring to the stag party. He wanted to share more than just conversations with Luc. He wanted to share it all. Thoughts of Luc distracted him further, and it took him a few moments to realise Ron was talking again.

"Is there anyone you want to bring, Harry?" Ron had not failed to notice the light in Harry's eyes at the mention of someone. Harry was so transparent when he was in love, it was obvious to all. Someone had piqued Harry's interest enough to make him act a little crazy.

Harry looked wistful for a moment, "There is, but I don't think he's available that night," he said in disappointment.

"Hermione has threatened to hex us all if you are planning anything too raunchy, Harry. You are up on the party, aren't you?" for a moment Ron was worried that Harry had not yet started planning his stag party.

"Relax, Ron. I've got it all under control."

"It had better not be a bloody poofter party, Harry. No offence, of course." Ron seemed a little concerned. He loved Harry like a brother, but his idea of a party usually involved sitting around tasting wines and eating lots of cheese and listening to old-fashioned music. Ron was hoping for something a little more... raunchy.

"What, you want me to cancel the male strippers?" Harry sounded thoroughly disappointed and Ron looked horrified until he realised Harry was definitely taking the piss out of him. He punched Harry in the arm as Hermione finally wandered by the table again. Taking the opportunity for an exit, Ron grabbed his fiancée and started them all out the door. Hermione barely had time to protest.

"So, Harry, what do you really have planned for my stag night?" Ron asked as the trio walked down the street to find a place for dinner.

Remus hung around the store for most of the evening, pretending to browse the shelves as he waited quietly for some time with Emmaline. He wasn't really surprised to find her waiting for him with an inviting cup of coffee as the last customer left for the evening.

"You really are terrible at skulking, Remus," she said affectionately.

"Nothing you do surprises me any more, Emmaline," he replied.

"You want to know more about the journals, no?" She sighed wearily and beckoned for him to sit down with her. "You know you only have to ask, and I'll tell you - if I can."

Remus swore that she was more cryptic each time he met her. The coffee was hot and warming and it helped to loosen his tongue. "I'm just a little confused, Emmaline. Why don't they know yet? Why don't Harry and Draco know who they are writing to?" She raised an eyebrow at Remus words. He nodded, "Oh yes, I know Draco is the one you gave my old journal to."

Emmaline just sipped her own coffee, not making any indication that he was right or wrong. This only raised Remus' ire.

"They've been talking for months, Emmaline! Why are you toying with them? They both deserve to know the truth. Why don't they realise it yet?" he asked in a confronting tone.

Emmaline sighed wearily. "I suppose you have a right to know, Remus." She suddenly seemed much older than he remembered as she took an inordinate time arranging her robes. She was stalling.

She looked up suddenly, all traces of mirth gone from her face. Remus thought he saw the sheer power of ancient magic reflected in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "How long was it before you and Sirius realised your identities?"

"About four or five conversations, I guess." Despite vividly remembering nearly every word they shared, it was painful for him to remember Sirius just now. Being around Emmaline brought back so many vivid memories.

"And when did you realise that you were in love with your best friend?" He looked at him knowingly over the top of her glasses.

Remus blushed. It had been years, but he remembered the day he came to the realisation he was in love with Sirius. It seemed like it was only yesterday, but it was during the summer after he left school. He was lost in memories for the longest time. Being surrounded by Emmaline and her comforting presence made it all seem like the past twenty-five years had been a horrible nightmare.

"He was my best friend," he murmured in hushed undertones. "I think I had been in love with him for ages, but I never realised it until after we started to converse in the journals..." The realisation overcame him and he looked at Emmaline in sudden understanding.

Emmaline nodded in confirmation. "And what about Lily and James?"

"How do you know Harry's parents?" Remus asked curiously. He didn't think they had ever met Emmaline.

"Oh, they were Harry's parents?" Now Emmaline was the one who was surprised. "How long had they been talking in the journals before they realised they were soul mates?"

Remus had completely forgotten that James and Lily finally fell in love over a set of journals. He felt a little guilty that he could have forgotten something like that about his dear friends. As the memories suddenly flooded back, a small teary smile crossed his face. He nodded as it all began to make perfect sense. "A set of journals brought them together?"

Emmaline nodded and smiled as Remus realised their importance. "Not just any journals, Remus. Surely you don't think there are dozens of such books just lying around, hmmm?"

He laughed and shook his head in wonderment. "You know, just when I think I am beginning to understand you, you redefine your boundaries, and I am again left in amazement. They were the same set of journals?" Emmaline nodded. He found himself thinking about James and Lily, something he didn't indulge in very often. "You know, now that you mention it, I seem to recall that they had a blazing row in the common room not long before our NEWTs. They had been at each other's throats nearly all year. It was pretty ugly to begin with – Lily's temper was renown – but of course, James finally threw his hands in the air and kissed her. I remember it so well." He laughed, "of course, Professor McGonagall had to get Peeves to douse them with a bucket of water when it became quite clear they had overcome their differences."

Emmaline smiled indulgently. "The journals chose them, Remus. But when their work was done, they knew they had to work on you and Sirius."

Remus was starting to see a pattern here and realised for the first time just what Emmaline was up to.

"Lily and James despised each other at first, hmmm? But with time, they learned to love each other. Harry and Draco will figure it out eventually. If they haven't yet realised the truth, then they aren't yet ready. Both of them still need to sort out a few things in their lives, Remus, and you can't interfere," she admonished sternly.

Remus put down his coffee cup as he looked at her accusingly. "Why not? You seem to take great pleasure in doing so."

"No, Remus." She shook her head furiously as she patted his on the hand. "One day you'll understand. Just trust me for now when I say that both of them have to know exactly what they want out of life before they are ready to realise the truth."

"So why did you give the book to Draco?" he wanted the question answered, once and for all.

"I think you misunderstand me, Remus. I have nothing to do with who is chosen. I merely watch over them. I have no say in who the journals go to. The innate magic of the journals is what makes them choose their custodians. I just make sure that nothing and no one interferes in the natural order of things." She quickly stood up, the jovial mask back on her face, "And for now, that means that you need to let the old magics take their course, and trust in them. Don't fight what was meant to be, Remus. They will know – all in good time."

"Harry's realised he's in love with 'Luc'," Remus commented casually.

"Well then," Emmaline broke out in a wry smile, "It seems that things are just about to get interesting. I can guarantee it."

June 8, Sunday

Sunday morning dawned crisp and clear. Draco roused as the sun stretched across his bed. He sighed deeply and a small smile crept across his sleepy face. As he stretched, he recalled his dreams and was not surprised to see and feel that he had yet again experienced his erotic dream – although something about it seemed different. It wasn't the fact that he had given up letting the dream get to him, he had given into it and embraced it weeks ago. There was something different. As he looked over at the clock, he saw that it was still quite early, but with the coming of the summer, the sun rose much earlier. He recalled that he had the day completely to himself and afforded the lie in by rolling over to catch some more sleep.

As he turned, he remembered what was different. The dream – it wasn't about Potter any more. Jean-Paul was still there, dictating proceedings, but as the dream heated up, his lover (his now very familiar lover) wasn't wearing Harry Potter's face. He couldn't see his new lover, but when he looked down into the eyes of his dream lover, his features were blurred. But he heard himself screaming his lover's name – FlashohmyfuckinggodsFlash!

Draco snorted in amusement. Finally, I get the git's face out of my dreams, yet now my good friend - the one who told me that he loves me, replaces it.He wasn't sure if he should be worried by that fact, but Flash would either find it dreadfully amusing, or flirt with him even more if he told him. It was Sunday, and he was looking forward to a long and heartfelt chat with Flash, which made him feel much less alone. A smile returned to his face at the thought of his friend. Sometimes it amazed him how quickly he came to rely on Flash's company and his opinions – he valued the man's opinions quite highly.

Something had changed in his life since he began talking to Flash, and Draco looked forward more and more to his chats with the cheeky, yet surprisingly down to earth wizard. Now why can't I find someone like Flash to share in my life? Draco suddenly became more awake as he realised what he just thought. Merde, now I'm the one with the crazy fantasies. First my dream, now thinking of being with someone like Flash. He admitted he loves me, and now I'm dreaming about him. Is it really such an awful thought?

Just as Draco drifted back to sleep with the thought that Flash probably wouldn't mind featuring in his dream, he was reawakened by voices drifting up from the courtyard below.

As he slowly became more awake, his mind began to process the voices. Potter's voice was familiar now – Draco had listened to enough Quidditch and flying lessons in the past few weeks to recognise it wafting up through his open window. The timbre of the other voice was familiar, but he frowned. Why is Potter talking to Michaels this early in the morning?

"... so I thought perhaps you could give me a few pointers, Sir? Even though the talent scouts were at the final game, the Rookie tryouts are in just a couple of weeks, and I really can't afford to muck up now. You know how much this means to me." Draco didn't miss the subtle nuances of Michaels' tone. Now that Draco had rejected him he was going after bigger fish. Didn't the boy know when to let up?

"... I'd love to help, Michaels. I do understand how important this opportunity is for you. I've got some spare time after lunch. We can go through the paces with the other seekers as well, if they are available. How does that suit you?" Draco rolled his eyes. How could Harry not realise the completely transparent flirting the boy was doing?

"Oh, that's fine." Damien Michaels sounded disappointed, but his tone immediately changed. "But I was hoping for something a little more... personal." Draco rolled his eyes. He hoped Harry wasn't too oblivious to the flirting.

"That has to be the lousiest pick-up line I've heard in years, Michaels, and trust me, I've heard more than my fair share." He quickly reassessed his earlier suspicion. Harry had pegged the boy correctly. Draco was impressed. Harry wasn't as oblivious as he appeared to be.

"I don't..." Michaels feigned innocence.

"I'm afraid you'll have to try your flirting on someone who is a little more available, and possibly closer to your own age, Damien. You should know better. Besides, Quidditch players aren't my type."

"I'm sorry, sir. I just had to try – you understand," he offered contritely. "Besides, I didn't know you were unavailable." Draco knew the conniving kid was far from sorry, and that Potter had not heard the end of this. Michaels was a true Slytherin and if he was really after Harry, he would be planning his next move already.

Too distracted to get back to sleep, Draco eventually made his way downstairs for a late breakfast. With only one week left of school, most had also taken the opportunity to sleep in and the hall seemed crowded with the bustle of eager students.

Severus distracted Draco before he could sit down. The look on his face was grave. "Draco, I just wanted you to know, I got a reply from my last letter. I'm sorry, but nobody can put their hands on any Pegasus Wingtips."

Draco nodded and tried hard not to let any emotions rise to the surface. He had expected this, but now that he knew, it was all over, he pushed all his joy and hope from the past weeks to the back of his mind. Severus gave his shoulder another supportive squeeze. His last hope was to find some in his Grandpère's lab. That was if he could get Weasley's permission to go there. He hoped that Harry could talk him around, but he certainly was not going to pin any more hopes on that happening.

Draco watched Harry rushing his breakfast and began to wonder. What had happened in the past weeks to make him reassess this man so greatly? Flash had encouraged him to befriend him, but he never thought he would have the veil pulled from his eyes so that he could actually see Harry Potter as every other wizard did. He had gone from despising his very existence to hoping that he could talk Weasley around to letting him have access to his home. It seemed too surreal.

Harry's early morning conversation with Damien Michaels came to mind, and as he watched Harry eat, he found his own thoughts wandering. He mentioned that Quidditch players weren't his type. Well then, who is your type, Harry? It's plain to everyone here with two eyes that you want Remus, but you are resigned to the fact that he isn't interested. Who is your type? For once Draco wished he had paid attention to the gossip that surrounded Potter's social life.

He couldn't recall any specifics of Harry Potter's love life. His aversion to gossip about Harry had obviously made him block out any news on that front. He did remember the massive exposé from some boy back at school when the news broke that the Boy Who Lived was gay. That had put a dent in the plans of many single young witches. His mind wandered back to that seemingly unforgettable time he watched Harry in the Quidditch showers. Somehow that memory was branded in his mind, and recent dreams could not make him forget it.

From what Draco could deduce, Potter was so notoriously secretive about his lovers that nobody knew who constituted 'his type'. Draco shook his head. He really needed to get away if he found himself wasting time on such frivolous thoughts. Even though it was a distinct distraction from his own concerns, he thought an entire breakfast of pondering Harry's love life was probably more time than anyone should devote to the subject. It was definitely time to get out of the castle. As luck would have it, his day was well planned. All he had to do was make his way down to Emmaline's and wait.

It was with a sense of serenity that he took his favourite seat at Emmaline's an hour later. The coffee and pastries were fresh and he eagerly awaited a taste of both as he pulled his journal from his bag. Flash's idea to chat earlier on Sunday was a marvellous idea, and he sipped his coffee, slowly savouring the taste as he awaited Flash's words.

Harry would have loved to head down to the Leaf and Bean to have his chat with Luc. The place seemed to have the perfect atmosphere to surround himself with as he wrote to Luc. Unfortunately, he had promised Ron he would organise the stag night, and he was awaiting a number of Floo calls from those he was planning on inviting. He didn't want to miss anyone, but shrugged off the fact that he would be able to talk to Luc from Emmaline's another day.

As he opened the journal, he wondered about the thought of meeting Luc. He imagined setting up a meeting in Emmaline's store. It would be the perfect place. Luc might even be able to sate his constant desire to drink good coffee. Draco thought it was superb coffee, so Harry suspected it probably was quite good. He made a mental note to tell Luc.

He hesitated as he was about to put quill to parchment. Was Luc really fine with my confession? Shit, I hope so. I would hate to ruin this. I can't ruin this. I would never forgive myself.

June 8, Sunday Dearest Luc, I hope you're there. I really feel embarrassed by my confession the other day. I genuinely hope I haven't scared you off. The thing is, I really did mean what I said, and I haven't changed my mind. But if it makes you more comfortable, we won't make mention of it.

Draco admitted that he was still somewhat unsettled by Flash's confession of love. He really couldn't see how this other man could truly think that he was worthy of that decision based purely on the fact they had only written to each other. No matter how unsettling, he found that thought dissipate as he read Flash's words. They gave him a sense of rightness whilst other strange things were going on in his life. He didn't want to lose that feeling, and he knew he didn't want to lose Flash. He was just going to have to deal with Flash's feelings.

Hi Flash, no you haven't scared me off. I admit that you've certainly given me an awful lot to think about. I did think about not replying to you, but knew that I didn't want to lose your friendship. Does that make sense? Perfect sense, Luc. I promise I'll try hard not to mention it. I was hoping to be chatting from somewhere else right now, but I'm waiting on a few people to Floo me, so I'm stuck indoors, worst luck. Well, I'm drowning my sorrows at present, Flash. But I'm quite happy about that fact. I'm wallowing in the best coffee imaginable! Oh, you found a decent coffee shop, did you? I was going to recommend one, but if you've already found one... You don't know how good it feels, Flash. I decided that coffee is almost as good as sex, if not better. I was worried about you on Friday, Flash. Did you manage to get over your scare? It wasn't pleasant to hear about what the Neo Death Eaters did. I can only begin to imagine how you must have felt there for a few moments. Oh I feel ever so embarrassed now. I can't help but feel for those people who were caught up in the whole mess. I wish they didn't have to deal with this. I really hope that they catch these Neo Death Eaters soon. I would hate for anyone that I know, especially you, Luc, to be caught up in their mess. Yes, Friday ended up being a rotten day here. I don't particularly want to bore you with the details, but I had a rather important request denied, and that put a bit of a damper on my weekend. Someone is hopefully sorting it out, but I really wouldn't be surprised if he can't change the prat's mind. I probably deserve it.. I gather it was a fairly important request. Is there nothing else you can do? Well, not really. My mentor just advised me that he's now exhausted all avenues, and if this guy comes back and still says no, then I'll just have to carry on without it. It's not a terribly huge deal any more. I'll manage. Is there anything I can do to help? You seem resigned to the fact, but you don't seem terribly happy about it. I'm not really happy, Flash, but there is nothing much I can do. My hands are tied and my fate lies in relying on a promise from someone else. That's probably the strangest thing that's been happening, Flash. Things with Mr Bitter Resentment have somewhat changed. This is good! Isn't it? Well... yes. I realise now that I was the one who was at fault. You know, sometimes when I talk to you, I feel like I'm able to tell you almost anything. You are right. I don't want to wait a whole week to chat with you. I get such a feeling of calm and serenity that overcomes me when I talk to you. I'm really pleased you feel that way, Luc. I feel... well, you know how I feel, Luc. I won't deny it, because to me it seems so right. But I have been thinking, and I would love to actually meet you in person sometime... not right now, of course, but in the near future... maybe get a cup of tea or coffee - maybe even both! Can you give me a little time? I'm still a little floored by what you said to me the other day. Although I have to admit the idea seems somewhat appealing. Just so you know, that last sentence came straight off the quill. My brain is having some difficulty, but if I just wrote that, then I guess it is fine. Perhaps we can meet up over the summer? Things will be a bit quieter around here then. And I know just the place were we can have just that - tea or coffee. I am not trying to pressure you in any way, Luc. But later in the summer would be a good time. Like I said, my temporary position here will be ending in a few days, and after that I've no clue what I'm going to do with myself. You'll find a position that suits you, I just know you will. Yes, I'm sure I'll find something eventually. At least I'm not currently in a position where I have to worry myself about finances while I'm unemployed for a bit. Oh, I've been meaning to ask you, (thought about this all week actually), how are things going with that old enemy of yours? You know, the one I told you to try seeing differently? Ah, well, I honestly don't think I have enough ink, or time right now to tell you, Flash. I'm not trying to fob you off either. But to give you the short answer... I don't feel the need to hex him every time I see him. Which is definitely progress. But I am yet to apologise. And do you have any idea why that is? Do you not feel that he deserves an apology after all, or can you just not find a way to say it? I am very good at shilly shalling around when I want to. I'm not going to admit to how many opportunities I've had to apologise that have turned foul because I chickened out at the last minute. The strange thing is that we are getting along quite well. He's the one who I was talking about earlier. I just can't say the words. It's like I've got a bloody silencing spell on me. Ahhhh, is that the pride spell? What do you mean? Well, a good friend of mine made a few statements to his girlfriend once that rubbed her the wrong way. Actually, they weren't even dating at the time, and this incident very nearly assured that they never would get together. It was months before I could convince him to apologise to her, not because he couldn't see where he'd gone wrong, and not because he wasn't sorry for what he'd said, but only because he tends to have a bit of a pride issue. In his particular case I think it's because he comes from a large family and he's worked hard to be his own person and to rise above the views of other people, so he holds onto this pride like it's all he's got, and it was really hard to break through that and bring himself to the point of speaking those words of apology. The girl (actually his fiancée now) and I decided that it was a "pride spell" and he's joked about it since then, how he still has residual affects from it sometimes... You could very well be right about that. Although I think in my case it might be a family trait. I was talking to someone who was once the lover of one of my cousins or something, and he said I reminded him of him. Ahhhh, well pride can run in families as well. Yes, it can. But you have to stop dwelling on this, Luc, before it gets the better of you. I have it on good authority that confession is quite good for the soul. I should know, especially after our last chat. You're right, as usual, Flash. I just wish that I could get it out of my system. It's so frustrating to bottle it all up. The problem is that the lines of communication with him aren't quite as honest as ours are. We don't bare our souls between two journals that don't allow us to lie. So what are you going to do? I guess I'll just have to cast aside that bloody pride spell and apologise. I think he'll be gone from here soon, and if I don't do it now, I'll probably never get around to saying it. I can't believe it is so hard to say 'I'm sorry'. I've never had this much trouble before. Bah, talking about it any more is putting me off my coffee, Flash. So will you apologise this week? If you promise me you will, then I'll stop pestering you about it. If you promise me here, then you have to do it because this journal only lets you print the truth, remember? All right, yes. I promise I'll apologise this week.

Harry smiled. He really wanted Luc to sort out his differences with this other wizard. If he could manage to create some sort of civil friendship with Draco Malfoy, then surely Luc could do the same. He was about to write more, when the Floo flared to life. Fred and George's irrepressible mirror grins lit up the fireplace.

"Hang on a minute, guys," he yelled as he reluctantly wrote a quick goodbye to Luc. He would have rather stayed there talking to Luc, but he really wanted to plan a perfect party for Ron's stag night. For a split second he was torn between his past, and his ever promising future, but he had responsibilities, and he couldn't shirk them, no matter how much he really wanted to keep Luc at arm's length.

Ah, bugger. The Floo just rang. I'm going to have to go. Will you be around tomorrow evening? I'll try, Flash. I'll leave a note if I can't. Thanks for listening – again. Any time. Got to dash! All my love, Flash. Bien à vous,
Luc.

Unfortunately for Draco, his promise to apologise to Harry was harder to keep than he realised. Not because he couldn't actually do it, but because for once, Harry was hardly ever around. The last week of school was always hectic. The students were either finished with their exams, or they were in the process of last minute cramming. Severus was always one for making them work until the very last day, so Draco's routine varied little. He did help Severus by testing some of the first and second year potions, but everyone was thoroughly busy.

The examiners from the Wizarding Examinations Authority were busily sticking their noses into almost every aspect of the school, despite the fact they were only there to test the OWL and NEWT students. Draco had the unfortunate experience of having to spend nearly an entire afternoon with old Griselda Marchbanks. The ancient witch no longer presided over the exams as the Authority had replaced Griselda the year before Draco sat his own NEWTs, but he remembered her from his OWL exams. Unfortunately, she was quite senile, and they were powerless to stop her from attending the exams that she had administered for over one hundred years. A member of staff was assigned to keep her away from the real exams so that no student was put in the embarrassing position of having to do an exam twice.

Unfortunately, this required Draco to 'sit' for his Charms OWL all over again. As luck would have it, one of them had forgotten his dismal performance in that exam, and he was pleased to note that he had now achieved an 'Outstanding' on the exam. Too bad it was eight years too late. Her senility was thoroughly apparent when a half hour later she made him sit for his Transfiguration NEWT. Unfortunately, he seldom put his Transfiguration skills into practice (at least on living creatures) and he found his orrery was still sprouting fur and one paw after the changeover. Fortunately, the rat was in one piece after he transfigured it back, but the frown on the old witch's face made him grateful that his "Acceptable" NEWT for Transfiguration was not likely to be challenged in the future.

He did spot Harry very briefly at lunch on Tuesday, but noticed that it was now his turn to deal with the doddering old examiner, and rather than rattle off a quick apology, he offered a sympathetic glance in Harry's direction. Harry rolled his eyes at Draco and nodded politely in old Mrs Marchbanks' direction as he led her to the staffroom.

The rest of his time was spent preparing the current batch of Wolfsbane. The full moon was on the upcoming Saturday night, and Draco wanted to make sure his current batch was working. He was hoping for a successful moon (as Remus liked to call them) as he had a few thoughts on how he could add some sort of preservative to the potion. If that were successful, then it was a step in the right direction. It would mean that Draco would not have to make the potion every month, as it may be able to sit for up to another month.

That was all still in the planning stage, of course, but after reading through the potion the was going to cure his knee (if he could get his hands on the Pegasus Wingtips, but he wasn't going to think about that now) he came up with a few things he had previously not considered. Even if he couldn't cure his own curse, that potion that came from Slytherin's book might just have some use after all.

It was very late on Wednesday evening by the time he got around to sitting down quietly to chat with Flash.

This always happens, Flash. I make firm plans, then life does everything it can to make me break them. I know. I have been looking forward to talking to you. It has been pretty busy where I am, but I finish in a few days, so very soon I'll have absolutely nothing to do. You'll find something soon, don't worry. I'm not worried about it. Not any more. I have an exit interview on Friday, then I'll be heading off to stay with friends until I can sort out things. I'm down to one of my last bottles of wine (no point in packing it up if I can help it), and I am looking forward to hearing how you have apologised to Mr Burning Hatred. Er, well that's not a terribly long story, Flash. The answer is that I haven't – but before you argue – I haven't had a chance to talk to him. I think I've said Hello twice, and spotted him across the room once this week, so it hasn't really been a good time. So I'm just going to have to beat you round the head until you apologise, is that it? Ah, so you do like a little bit of rough play, Flash? If the conditions are right, I don't think I would say no. Are you offering, Luc?

Draco realised that he had just made a suggestive comment to Flash. Their flirting had always been a lot of fun, but after Flash's admission that he loved him, it seemed a little awkward. He really didn't want to lead Flash into thinking he was offering him something, when he wasn't sure himself. His pause was long enough for Flash to comment on it.

Shit, I've made this awkward, haven't I? For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I can't take back what I said to you on Friday, and I really don't want to because it's true. I love you, Luc. Don't stop being yourself, because that is what I truly find so wonderful. Please don't think any less of me. I don't think any less, but I shouldn't have said that. I really don't want to lead you into any false representations of me, Flash. I don't want us to beat each other up over this, but I know that I don't want to lose your friendship. I don't blame you for anything.

Draco had spent too much time in his life blaming others for his own shortcomings. His father, Harry, the Death Eaters, Jean-Paul, Antonio; the list was very long. Flash had helped him learn to listen and to accept the fact that it was one of his own shortcomings. He would put off apologising to Harry as long as possible, but he knew that Flash was definitely not to blame for his confession. The awkwardness was entirely his own fault. He couldn't feel the same for Flash. Not yet, anyway.

You know, there is one way we can sort out this awkwardness, Luc... We could... meet. We could. Although I'm going to need a little time, Flash. I'm not pressuring you at all, but I think if I explained myself to you in person, things might be less awkward. Part of me is still unsure, Flash, but the inquisitive little devil on my shoulder is telling me that it is a good idea. But I still need a few more weeks. Can we give it that long? It's just... You don't have to explain, Luc. I'm sorry for being pushy. I just can't see any other way to get around the stupid awkwardness I've built between us. How does Mid July sound? Will that give you enough time? It's a few weeks away, and I can't help but think it's a perfect time for us to meet. Mid July is good. I could meet you in London, or wherever else you like.

Draco gave it serious consideration. Was he really ready to meet Flash? Surely he was. Until a week ago he was keen to meet up with the other wizard, yet now he was reluctant. That date was over a month away. Was he really so reluctant?

That date sounds fine, Flash. I admit things seem a little awkward, but the thought of not talking to you again is something I don't want to contemplate. So it's a date? Thank you, Luc. I promise that I just want to meet you in person. Nothing more. I'm sorry for making you feel so bad, Flash. No, I'm sorry. Listen to us. Any more apologies and we'll be pathetic! But I'm afraid I'm not the one you should be apologising to. Point taken. I plan on having good news for you by the end of the week on that front. I have no idea what the rest of this week will be like, but I can guarantee that I will be able to talk on Sunday. How about Sunday morning? Sunday I can still do, but I'll be hanging around tomorrow night in case you feel like talking. This might sound crazy, but I find I sleep better on those nights we talk. Perhaps I'm just imagining it, but I really think I do. That's interesting to hear. Apart from remembering my dreams, I usually sleep quite soundly anyway, Flash, so I have no basis for comparison. I guess if I tell you to have sweet dreams tonight, you will. Most definitely. Thanks Luc. Thank you for still being here. I'll keep an eye out for you tomorrow. Let's just take it one chat at a time for now, so I'm not going to guarantee anything before Sunday. I'd hate to make any promises that I can't keep... I'd hate to stand you up again for a cauldron. You always manage to make me smile, Luc. I love that about you. I mean, shite, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to... well, I mean... bollocks... yes, one chat at a time, then. I'll see you on Sunday. I'm flattered, honestly, Flash. And yes, I'll see you Sunday. Okay, take care Luc... bye. Au Revoir.

Harry smiled as he closed the journal. Despite his own feelings getting away and saying something stupid (like I love you), he was going to meet Luc. After so many months of wondering, they had agreed on a date to meet. He would have preferred to do it a little sooner, but he didn't want to pressure Luc into something he wasn't ready for. He could understand that perfectly.

But he was thoroughly certain about one thing. He did sleep better after talking to Luc. His mind drifted off to sleep as he unconsciously began his pre sleep ritual of clearing his mind and meditating. Thursday would be his last day of classes, and he wanted to make sure he went out with a bang. His exit interview was with the Headmaster on Friday, and he wanted to make sure that he expressed his desire to stay at Hogwarts. It seemed ironic that he was due to leave the place just when he had made peace with Draco. As he fell asleep he regretted the fact it was unlikely he would now have an opportunity to get to know him a little better.

Draco was still sitting at his desk long after their conversation had finished. He was still so very, very confused. Flash wanted to meet him, but he knew it was for reasons very different to his own. He didn't think he could offer Flash what he wanted. He didn't love Flash in that way. For that matter, he really didn't know who he loved. It was that thought that was keeping him from sleep.

Who do I love? I was ready to love Jean-Paul. It was then that he knew he wouldn't go back to Marrakesh. Jean-Paul was sex personified, but Draco wanted more – needed more. He remembered his dream from earlier in the week. He was reluctant to admit that the mystery face of Flash was replacing Harry in his erotic dream. Could I really be thinking such thoughts about a wizard I've never met? What was feeding his reluctance to meet Flash?

It suddenly struck him. He was afraid. Afraid that it would happen all over again. Every relationship had ended in some form of misery. Why would this be any different? Could he reassess his feelings after meeting the other wizard? Nothing was impossible in the wizarding world. Nothing at all.

Petite Amie purred soothingly as he unconsciously stroked her fur; it was a very long time before he fell asleep.

June 13, Friday

The last day of class was always filled with mixed emotions. For the students, the relief that another year was over usually accompanied the excitement of heading home. For the seventh years, this day was usually one spent in extreme nostalgia. As everyone dined in the hall for breakfast, Harry felt he could relate most to their current situation. He remembered his own first leave-taking of Hogwarts, but this one was going to be all the more painful. He really wanted to stay, and he was planning on telling Dumbledore right after breakfast.

Everyone on staff seemed quite exhausted, but that was usually the case at this time of year. Hours of extra effort in having to mark the exams led to extra pressure on them as well. The students would be heading home on the Saturday morning train. The moment the Express was out of sight, the house elves would begin the transformation of the Great Hall for an evening of festivity. Despite their fatigue, the staff members were relieved that the school year was over, but they generally revelled in the chance to let their hair down before they began their annual holiday.

Harry could only grin when he read the bottom of the formal invitation. 'Dress – Muggle party wear' was the only indication that there would be some sort of 'theme' to this year's party, and Harry had no trouble coming up with something to wear. Unfortunately, it was a full moon, so Remus would not be able to join in the festivities, which disappointed both of them.

Harry was deep in thought as he headed up the spiral staircase later that morning to visit Dumbledore. During his last week, he had considered a number of new job options, but none seemed terribly appealing. The Muggle Studies snub still stung, but deep down, he knew Remus was right. He would not enjoy the job. He was going to give himself the summer before making any firm plans. There was Ron and Hermione's wedding to keep him distracted over the next couple of weeks. There's a meeting with Luc that you certainly don't want to miss, but he put thoughts of Luc aside for a moment as he had a few ideas that he wanted to put forward to the headmaster.

He was surprised to find Remus in Dumbledore's office when he alighted at the top of the spiral staircase. The pair seemed deep in thought as they shared morning tea. Harry noted the plate of pastries, and wondered if everyone at Hogwarts had become enamoured with Emmaline's fine food temptations. They seemed to be so deep in discussion that they didn't even notice Harry's presence. Remus was startled and jumped back as Harry tapped him on the shoulder. Even Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Are you trying to scare a few more years off me, Harry?" Remus said in jest. "Still, it's no wonder you excelled in Stealth and Tracking in your Auror exams."

Harry shrugged off the compliment. Of course he had excelled in nearly all aspects of his Auror training – he had some of the best teachers in the wizarding world guiding him. "Well it's a good thing, Remus, that you were the one who taught me everything I know about stealth, isn't it?" It was true. "I mean Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs really got me off to a good start in that respect." Remus smiled knowingly, and the headmaster nodded in agreement.

"Yes, quite," Dumbledore nodded as he indicated for Harry to sit down. A steaming cup of tea hovered over from the sideboard and landed smoothly in front of Harry. "I find it bodes well for my new defence assistant to have a solid background in such areas."

Harry cocked his ear as he looked at the headmaster, "Excuse me, sir? Did I just hear you correctly?"

"Yes, you did, Harry. I only want the best on staff here at Hogwarts – you yourself know what happens when we have teachers who don't live up to our expectations. I know your tenure with Quidditch ends today, but I've been talking to Remus, and I'd like to offer you—"

Harry interrupted. "Remus, you're not resigning, are you?" His heart thumped heavily in his chest and a horrible thought ran though his head as he looked over at Remus. He was looking a little peaky, but the full moon was on Saturday night.

"Relax, Harry, I think you should hear him out before jumping to any conclusions," the irrepressible grin on Remus' face confounded Harry, but the headmaster continued.

"As Remus has constantly pointed out these past couple of months, you have the makings of a truly talented teacher, Harry. Your students love you; the other staff members have commented on how well you conduct classes and how insightful you are when talking about the students. Your record in training at the Auror division was also exemplary. There are some well trained young Aurors out there, thanks to you."

Harry nodded, unsure of exactly what they wanted. Were all his dreams suddenly about to be answered? "What is it you want, sir?"

"The Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum needs revising, Harry. You are proof that extended training in this area can help in so many ways. Remus has asked me if he could take you on as an assistant, with a view to expanding the course."

"Eventually, I'd like you to take over from me, Harry." Remus confirmed the offer. Harry was speechless. This was everything he wanted, and possibly more. A chance to do exactly what he wanted.

"Of course," he replied before thinking. "But you're not thinking of retiring, are you Remus? Your health, if anything seems to be improving—"

"Relax, Harry. I've still got quite a few years in me yet. But I've seen how much you enjoy this. It's not very often that someone comes along who is a born teacher. I suspected as much when I heard what you did with the DA when you were only fifteen."

"I'm afraid, Harry, that we can't let good teaching talent like that go to waste." The headmaster confirmed Remus' words.

"I... I still don't really know what to say, but I'll definitely do it." He seemed as eager and giddy as he did the first time he entered the wizarding world. "So... when do I start? What do I need to do? Will I be teaching at first, or just helping you, Remus? You know, I had a few ideas about incorporating flying..." The older wizards broke out in mirthful laughter at Harry's eager ramblings. He flushed in embarrassment, running his hands through his hair in the nervous anticipation.

"Well, I think we should leave all the boring details until later in the summer," the headmaster offered as he handed over an official parchment with the job offer. "I think, for now, you should look over the offer and sign when you are ready. I'd hate for you to have any issues with remuneration..."

"With all respect, sir, I'd do this for free." He took the parchment to look over as he packed. It was then that he realised he didn't have to pack and leave the castle. "Er, actually, does this mean that I keep my quarters? I really didn't have any permanent accommodation organised..."

"Of course, Harry, that suite of rooms is yours for as long as you choose to call the castle your home. But if you wish to live in Hogsmeade..." the headmaster was quickly interrupted.

"Oh no, sir. Those rooms will be perfect! Thank you!"

Harry felt happier than he had for months. There was a definite levity in his step as he made his way back to his quarters – now his home. He didn't have to leave – he was already where he belonged. He had not realised the weight that was lifted from his shoulders as he had a definite path in life.

As Harry entered the room, he glanced around, breathing in deeply of his new home. I'm going to relax and enjoy myself today, he thought with determination. He ordered some tea and pastries from Dobby and relished the flaky texture and fresh flavour of them as he let himself settle into the realisation that he didn't have to leave Hogwarts. He looked at the half packed boxes, and took great pleasure in waving his wand and watching the entire lot leap merrily back into the drawers and onto the shelves.

Harry was at Hogwarts to stay. Things were starting to look up.

He avoided the other staff for the rest of the day, desperately resisting the temptation to cast a Sonorous and blurt it out to the whole world. He was a bundle of nervous energy during the entire leaving feast, but he held his tongue. He chose to meditate instead, keeping his power and his excitement under control. It was common for the headmaster to announce new teaching appointments (when known) at the end of year party. Harry was sworn to secrecy until then.

The collected excitement from the student body was enough to animate everyone around him. Well, everyone except for Draco. Harry noticed the discomfort on the apprentice's face, but he never managed to speak with him. Every time he tried, someone always interrupted. He made a note to talk to Draco before Saturday's party. He wanted to know if Ron had contacted him about visiting the Manor. He knew Ron really should let him have access to the potions lab, and he wanted to make sure that he did the right thing.

Of course, all his good intentions were nearly lost when he spoke to Hermione over the Floo later that evening.

"Harry?" she asked curiously, "You look like the cat that licked the cream. What's happened? Please tell me you aren't going to do something dreadful to Ron when you take him out for that stupid stag night -"

Harry knew he had to be careful around Hermione – it was so hard to keep secrets from her. Obviously his good mood was evident on his face. "Oh that? No, I don't think I'll be planning anything that you won't approve of, Hermione. I just thought you should know I won't be coming down to London on Sunday – I still have a few loose ends to finish up here."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You seem awfully excited for someone who's just got a few loose ends to finish up. I still don't trust that you won't do something horrible to Ron before the wedding. I hear it's traditional."

"I think you should be more worried about what Fred and George might have planned for him, Hermione. I promise that he will be in one piece, and completely hex free the morning of the wedding. I do suggest you have a few Sobrietus potions on hand, though. I know what those brothers of his are like when they've had a few drinks."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "Speaking of brothers, your chipper mood wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the fact that Charlie is on his way to Hogwarts tomorrow, does it?"

Harry's face registered even more surprise. "Charlie's coming here? Whatever for?" He couldn't help the completely selfish and vain thought that popped into his head that Charlie was coming to visit him. Don't be ridiculous Harry...

"Oh, shit." She cursed mildly, "I probably shouldn't have said anything. Ron will kill me, if Charlie doesn't first. Damn!" Hermione berated herself.

"Hermione, why is Charlie coming to Hogwarts?" he asked suspiciously. Why... Ah... I wonder... He had an inkling, but didn't voice it.

"I... I guess you'll find out tomorrow, won't you?" she recovered her decorum and refused to reveal any more details. If Charlie was going to be at Hogwarts for the staff party, it could mean only one thing.

The thought of Charlie working at Hogwarts was one that intrigued Harry for the remainder of the evening – causing all thoughts of helping Draco to flee rather quickly. Of course, he had no reason to keep thinking about the man, but certain thoughts about him would just not leave his head. I am not thinking about Charlie like that, I'm not! He's probably just coming here to do something in Hogsmeade and is going to pop his head in to say hello. Stop thinking too much, Harry. Pull yourself together. You're in love with Luc. You don't need Charlie to complicate things.

June 14, Saturday

Draco found his concentration wavering for most of the morning. He had buried himself in brewing the last of Remus' Wolfsbane for this month, which wasn't difficult for him, but it did require firm concentration. With so much distraction, Draco needed to get out of the castle and take a break; the craving for a cigarette was eating at his bones. A trip to the lake seemed like an excellent idea. Perhaps he could motivate his thoughts into focusing for the afternoon.

A perfectly clear sky and a light breeze greeted him on his way down to the lake. Perfect flying conditions, he thought. Despite his enforced grounding due to his knee, Draco still unconsciously thought about things like the weather and flying conditions. It would be just perfect for a quick spin up into the clouds, around the Highlands and back in along the lake. He sighed wearily as he took a drag on the cigarette. Even though it was never going to happen, he could still feel the wind in his face and the pitch and yaw as he pushed his broom to its limits.

Trying to get away from such pointless dreaming, he turned his thoughts to other things, and remembered a similar day in France and a picnic under the trees. He would have enjoyed a picnic right now. Unfortunately, that brought about thoughts that he had nobody to share a picnic basket with. It seemed no matter where his mind wandered today, it ended up at rather maudlin and depressing thoughts. He really didn't want to add the fact that he was alone to the list of things that were building up inside his head. But Flash is there. You don't have to be alone, Draco. I'm sure he'd want to come on a picnic if you asked.

He quickly headed back into the castle before he lost his concentration again. He had gathered enough concentration to finish the Wolfsbane, and was happy that his other cauldrons were all bubbling away nicely. Severus' head appeared in the fire not long after this, asking Draco if he could pick up a few things from the apothecary.

"But Severus, Jigger doesn't stock that. I'll have to go to Glasgow," he replied.

Severus smirked, "And that will be a problem for you?"

Draco laughed, "No, not really. I need a break."

"Well there's always tonight's party. I'm sure you'll thoroughly enjoy yourself. You have been working too hard." he replied.

"Don't think you're getting out of Dumbledore's party tonight, Severus. I haven't forgotten the fact you really hate these things. The headmaster paid me a little visit the other day. He was worried you might forget to attend." Draco smirked back. "Actually, I'm curious. He mentioned that if you didn't attend, he'd be forced to remind you of a particular agreement you have... something about a dare and a promise and a Hawaiian shirt..." The look on Severus' face was well worth it, but he would have loved to have seen what the headmaster would have done if Severus didn't attend.

"Well then, I'll be sure to see you there." He could not have sounded more excited if he tried.

With the students all but gone, the castle seemed quiet and peaceful. He spotted the last carriages as they were making their way down to Hogsmeade. Draco was looking forward to some of that peace and quiet over the summer. With Harry gone too, it would be hopefully quiet enough for him to knuckle down and do some more serious tests on his research. As he made his way out of the castle he realised it had been a while since his last party. Arianna's birthday ball, to be exact. He admitted that he was actually looking forward to it, even if he wasn't socialising with his own friends. It was still a chance to relax. And to apologise to Harry. He's finished and no doubt leaving, so if you don't apologise today, then you won't get another opportunity.

It was that thought which had him thoroughly distracted as he turned the corner. He didn't notice the student rushing from the opposite direction and they bumped heavily before falling to the floor. His cane clattered across the stone steps. Draco didn't question the hand that offered to help him up, but he wasn't expecting to be thrown bodily against the back wall once he was on his feet.

Draco only had a moment to notice the predatory smirk on Damien Michaels' face before the boy's very eager body was pressed firmly against his and a very warm and eager tongue found its way into his mouth. An insistent pair of hands began to pull at the buttons on his vest and he felt an unmistakeable hardness pressed into his thigh.

His brain automatically responded to the intrusion, returning the kiss momentarily, but he quickly pushed the boy away with all his strength.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Michaels?" he asked as he quickly tried to reassemble his robes. "Are you barking mad? Didn't you understand what I said the other day? I told you I wasn't interested..."

"Oh but you are, Malfoy. I can tell you're just begging for it." Draco was still pinned to the wall by the slightly taller and heavier student. He tried to push Michaels away, but his sense of balance was off, and it only it seemed like he was grinding against the student. "See," Michaels murmured as he pushed his body against Draco's.

He attempted to force his mouth onto Draco's again, but he pulled back and punched Damien hard in the mouth with his free hand. Michaels staggered back as Draco forced him away. He wasn't expecting that, but laughed as he wiped away the blood with the back of his hand.

"Are you still denying you're bent, Draco? I have it on good authority that this fiancée of yours," Damien tapped the side of his nose knowingly, "well, I promise I won't tell anyone she's only faking it. Is she a dyke?" Damien tried to approach Draco again, but found a wand directed at his throat.

Damien laughed, "C'mon, you know you want me. What's stopping you from taking what you know you want? I'm not a student any more, Draco. Not officially. You can't give me detention or expel me now, can you?" Damien was keeping just out of Draco's reach, but he was eyeing him off lecherously. Draco wondered just how he could end up in a situation like this.

"I've never denied my preferences, Damien..." Draco began, but was cut off.

"...So you are bent. I thought as much. Well, then that will make things a lot easier. So what about this fiancée of yours – do you give it to her up the arse just like..."

"Despite what you might think, my private life is none of your concern. I didn't just turn you down the other day because you were a student, Damien. I am not interested in anyone at the moment. I know when I was your age there wasn't much else in life, but believe it or not, the world doesn't revolve around sex." You are so good at bullshit when you need to be, Draco, he thought.

"I've been watching you, Malfoy. I know that you're lying. There is nobody else. I know you're just begging for it. There's nothing stopping you," he whispered in Draco's ear.

"For the last time, I said no!"

"But you're hard - for me." Damien rubbed his hand up and down the bulge in Draco's jeans, and Draco tried hard not to buck into the touch. It had been so long since Jean-Paul had last touched him, and it was so fucking hard not to just give in to it. Luckily, he was in control of his senses, and stopped.

"Damien, I'm male, I'm hard half my life. I've learned that when you make decisions with a hard cock, they usually turn out to be the wrong ones. I'm exercising my choice, and it's still no. Now, haven't you got a train to catch?"

Michaels' sneer turned nasty. "If you think you can spend a whole year of school flirting with me and fucking me then leaving me to fall in love with you all those years ago... Well, I thought perhaps that you might have thought more of me than that."

Draco really hadn't expected to explain himself. "What can I say? I was a prick – we all make mistakes in the past." Which was thoroughly true.

"You never even owled me after you left..."

"There was a bloody war on! Besides, everyone on the team did it. You know the code." Draco didn't feel like dredging up old and forgotten stupidity, but it seemed that Michaels needed it spelled out. "Do you think I had a choice when I joined the Quidditch team?" Admittedly, Draco had thoroughly enjoyed his indoctrination into the Slytherin Quidditch senior team, even though he had been playing for a couple of years by that time. "It's a Slytherin tradition. Why do you think we've only ever allowed boys on the team? What we did was just a part of being on the team. Nothing more than that."

Michaels head dropped and he mumbled petulantly. "So it meant nothing to you?"

Draco sighed. When would this idiot get it through his head? He shook his head vigorously. "It was so long ago, Damien. It might have meant something, at the time, but I'm fairly certain it didn't. Merlin, I've grown up since then. You've changed too – we've both changed. This really is awkward now, and I'm definitely not interested." Could he explain himself any more plainly?

Michaels turned around and walked a few steps away from Draco. Draco dusted down his jeans and his shirt, but his wand was back at Michaels' throat when he attempted one more pass.

"I'll give you points for persistence, Damien, but how many times do I have to say it? Trust me; I'm doing you a favour. You might not think so now, but I am. I'm sure there are dozens of guys in London tonight who would be more than willing to let you toy with their affections. Now why don't you just turn around and forget that you ever knew Draco Malfoy."

Draco could see the burning hatred in Damien's eye as he realised that he wasn't going to get his own way. The sneer turned into a wicked laugh. "You're as full of yourself as Potter, Malfoy. He thought he was too good for me, too. You'll come crawling back to me one day, mark my words." Draco saw the glint of madness in the boy's eye, and for a moment realised he might have just underestimated him. "You should have just agreed, Malfoy. It would have made things much easier."

"Really?" Draco retorted. The kid was delusional, but he couldn't help but feel a small ounce of pity for him.

"Yes, really. You haven't heard the last of me. I'll be back. I know certain people who are keen to... renew acquaintances. You keep your nose clean, Malfoy. We're watching you." With a flourish of robes, Damien Michaels stormed away. Draco just stared after his retreating form as he came to terms with what he just heard. But he wasn't expecting to see Michaels stopped in his tracks by another wizard.

"And you, Mr Michaels," Harry Potter loomed from out of nowhere, stopping him near the statue of Derwent the Dedicated. "I think you should pass a message on to these 'friends' of yours – if you happen to see them of course."

Both Damien and Draco's eyes widened, but for very different reasons. Harry continued. "Tell them that they are outnumbered and outclassed. They might have had a couple of nights of fun, but we are onto them. Do you think you can give them that message, Damien?"

Draco had not seen Harry radiate such confident power in a long while. This was the powerful wizard that had taken on Voldemort and defeated him. There was no sign of the casual and laid back manner in his words at all. He was so mesmerised by that power that he took a few moments to realise that Harry must have overheard that embarrassing exchange with the boy.

Damien sneered at Harry. "I'm not afraid of you, Potter, and neither are my friends. You can't do anything any more. You're all washed up. I hear that even the Aurors kicked you out," he snorted.

Harry raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Is that what they're saying? Really, the Auror corps incompetence is become more laughable every day." His tone became more serious. "Lucky for you I'm so incompetent that Puddlemere United have asked me for a reference in regards to your ability as a Seeker." Harry pulled an envelope from the pocket of his robe.

Now Damien looked genuinely scared. "Yes," Harry continued, "It seems that all that's coming between you and a professional Quidditch contract is my word... and I would hate to have to tell them about your... friends..."

The fear on Damien's face was evident. "Are you threatening to ruin my future over this, Potter?" he asked indignantly.

"And you seriously think that hanging around with your new 'friends' is going to help your long term future?" Both Harry and Draco could see the turmoil on Damien's face as he was torn. Harry cocked his head. "I think you need some time to think it over. I suggest you get on the train and have a long hard think about it."

Harry watched as Damien left, ashen faced. He kept an eagle eye on him as he rounded the corner and headed down into the depths of the dungeons. He was genuinely concerned now. He had overheard the boy propositioning Draco, but it was his final words that had made him realise that the boy was after more than just a quick shag. With Draco? Draco really is gay? What the hell is going on? Harry turned back to talk to Draco, but he was gone.

Harry knew that he wasn't going to be getting any straight answers out of Draco in a hurry, but planned on asking him quite a few things at the party that evening.

Harry just smirked, shaking his head about a great many things. A month ago he would not have imagined that he could have been the least bit concerned about Draco. But now he had a niggling thought in the back of his mind. Why are these Neo Death Eaters so interested in Draco? First they take his money, now they start popping out of the woodwork to confront him. As he headed out to say goodbye to the rest of the students, he wondered just why he seemed so concerned about Draco at all. He admitted he was enjoying their tentative friendship, and he knew it was something he could look forward to now that he was staying at Hogwarts.

Was Draco only being nice because he knew that Harry was leaving soon? He didn't know how Draco would react to the news he would be staying, but he would be looking for Draco's reaction when Dumbledore told everyone. He admitted to himself that he really would like to know more about Draco, which was a thought he desperately tried to shake out of his head. He didn't need any more confusion at this moment.

Naturally, the discovery that Draco really was gay was one that continued to play on Harry's mind. Why had I not guessed it before? It seems so obvious, but why is he pretending to be engaged? Ha! To think that Luc wanted me to seduce him! Luc would be so intrigued to learn that when Harry told him.

With no specific plans (for once) Harry started the dreadfully onerous task of turning his rooms into a home. Harry was still shaking his head in disbelief that he really was going to stay. He had so many plans and ideas jumping around in his head, he had to stop mid afternoon and try to relax. He was in too much of a frivolous mood to meditate, but he poured a generous glass of brandy. His wine collection had dwindled in anticipation of having to move, so the brandy was all that he had left.

He made plans to head into London and pick up some more. With a few weeks holiday up his sleeve, he toyed with the idea of visiting one of his favourite wineries. The thought of heading back over to France also crossed his mind. I wonder if Luc would like to come with me?

His rooms were spotless and he was busy making lists of new acquisitions as the afternoon slowly faded into evening. Now that he was staying, he could concentrate on acquiring those wonderful possessions that would make this place seem more like a home. Apart from his armchair, none of his furniture looked like it belonged in a castle, and he toyed with the idea of replacing the lot. He wasn't really attached to any of it. None of it had any history. It was high time he started to think about that.

As the afternoon wore on, he had made a firm decision and was busy flicking through a number of wizarding magazines as he thought about how he wanted to redecorate. His mood was so good, he barely realised that it was nearly time to head to the staff party.

Harry was insanely relaxed. There was so much pent-up stress he had recently released that he was feeling on top of the world. He loved Luc, and he knew it, and now he was to stay at Hogwarts. Life couldn't get any better. As he showered and then dressed for the party, he felt a confidence in himself he had not had in the longest time. His power was under control, which was also a big relief. He wasn't really thinking about the bigger picture this evening – the Neo Death Eaters were not even being considered.

He couldn't work out why he was suddenly primping and preening a little more than usual. He hadn't put this much effort into getting dressed up since that last horrid debacle with Oliver. Giving his image the once over in the mirror, he filled a bowl with water and began to shave at his messy stubble.

He was pleased with the results on his face. He sighed at his hair – there was little to be done there, but he did run a hand through it again to keep it in some semblance of order. Despite having some length, it still had a mind of its own. His best jeans and a short sleeved plum shirt were helping him to get into the party mood. A wide belt finished off the ensemble, and as he looked in the mirror, he thought something was missing. He couldn't quite work out what it was, but it suddenly struck him why he was taking time to look after his appearance. No, it has nothing to do with the fact Charlie will be here. Don't be stupid, Harry. You're just getting into practice for when you finally meet Luc.

He realised what was missing, and with a snap of his fingers, a small carved box hovered over from the side table. Harry rarely wore any jewellery, but there was one necklet that he thought would finish off the look. He pulled the bone carved Manaia from the bottom of the box, and carefully placed the leather thong around his neck. He felt a familiar sense of comfort return as Sirius' old pendant nestled in the hairs below the hollow of his throat.

Harry had seen dozens of photos of Sirius wearing the carved pendant. He was quite thrilled to find it one day as he rummaged around Grimmauld Place after Sirius died, and he wore it for nearly all of his sixth and seventh years of school. Upon investigation, he discovered the significance of the carving and for a while he believed it was a sign that Sirius might come back. After all, the Manaia is a messenger between the earthly world of mortals and the domain of spirits. He gave up wearing it after the war when he realised that Sirius was gone and he felt he no longer needed a talisman of great spiritual energy that guarded against evil.

Somehow, he felt right in putting it on again now. It was not that he needed to feel closer to Sirius, but with things starting to settle into place, Harry was feeling a better sense of who he was and what he wanted out of life. Thoughts of Sirius brought him back to thoughts of Remus, who would not be joining them for the party due to the unfortunate timing of the full moon.

Looking at the clock, and with one final glance at his clothes before he walked out the door, he had just enough time to check in on Remus before sunset.

Draco was still fuming from the embarrassing confrontation with Damien Michaels. Could the boy really have thrown his lot in with the Neo Death Eaters? He could not help but think that he might have been able to prevent that if he had just given Damien what he asked for. Was it really that much? Once upon a time Draco would not have needed to be asked twice if he wanted to fuck a good looking young man, but in recent months, the desire to be promiscuous had waned and he was searching for something more.

He wondered if he was ever going to find it. His mind was back to wandering as he pounded the pavement in Glasgow's High Street. Harry was more than just a witness to that potentially embarrassing situation, which only made things worse. He never got around to thanking Harry, and compounded with the fact he should be apologising to him, Draco was feeling somewhat frustrated.

He paused at the reflection on something shiny in the store window, and was drawn toward it. An hour later he walked out of the Muggle jeans store with a refreshed perspective and some dashingly new clothing. Retail therapy always did wonders and he was now the proud owner of yet another dragon. The silver dragon belt buckle was the shiny item that had drawn him into the jeans store, and he purchased it without a second thought. Of course, once he was there, the black denim jeans and simple white collared shirt seemed a perfect accompaniment to the buckle. The young sales girl (pierced in places that made Draco's eyes water) suggested that he wear a white singlet under the ensemble, and announced that he really was so strikingly handsome, he didn't need dressing up. Despite her multiple piercings, Draco was inclined to agree with her.

If he were truly honest, anything was better than his ghastly apprentice robes. He did like to wear well-tailored wizardwear, but the cut and colour of the apprentice robes were a complete disaster. The protective spells woven into the fabric made them harsh and scratchy. The sheer amount of magic imbued into the garments meant that he had to individually do up each of the dozens of tiny buttons, which made for a frustrating time every morning. Whoever designed them was a masochist, or a squib that decided that it would be a character building exercise for an apprentice to get dressed without the aid of magic. A house elf's pillowslip would be exceedingly more comfortable.

He felt good, and it had been a wonderful afternoon of retail therapy where he allowed himself to momentarily forget all the unpleasantness that had passed that morning. He had not forgotten about Harry, but he knew he would deal with him that evening. He had, after all, promised Flash he would do it. Besides, if Harry was leaving, his time had run out and he needed to apologise.

As he returned to the castle, he had just enough time to get ready for the party before heading over to Remus' rooms with one final dose of Wolfsbane. He wanted to check in and make sure that Remus was comfortable for yet another transformation.

Despite what people thought, Draco didn't spend hours in front of his mirror. His mirror usually alerted him to any problems in his appearance, but the approving whistle that came from the mirror told him he looked quite good. He wasn't out to impress anyone tonight, but he did wear his favourite cologne and made sure that he cast a charm to keep his Muggle clothes wrinkle free.

His hair was annoying him, and he regretted not stopping in at the hairdresser before he returned. The fringe was getting so long, he was constantly flicking it out of his eyes. At the last minute, he resorted to slicking it back with a large dose of his own hair potion – something he had not done in many years. It solved the problem and looked quite different, but he was now in a hurry and quickly poured that last dose of Wolfsbane before heading over to Remus'.

Harry could not help his jovial mood as he checked in on Remus. "I wish you could be there tonight, Remus."

Remus was sitting quietly in his armchair, awaiting the turning of the moon. Harry glanced over to the far wall and the slightly ajar door leading to the special room Remus used for his transformations. Remus nodded as he carefully watched his young friend.

"I'll be fine, Harry. I've been to enough of these parties, I was quite glad to have a legitimate excuse for missing tonight's. Just remember to stay away from Professor Sprout... and don't let her drink the green cocktails."

Harry raised an eyebrow in question, but wasn't game to ask any more about it. No doubt he would find out if anyone did happen to slip a green cocktail her way.

Remus didn't fail to notice Sirius' old pendant around Harry's neck. He smiled at the irony of the situation. He had bought the pendant for Sirius – well, he had bought it for his penpal – and had given it to him just when he realised that his soul mate was Sirius. Sirius had barely taken it off between then and the day he was sent to Azkaban.

Harry saw him looking at it and he blushed as he grabbed it. "I... I felt like I should wear it again, you know. I just had a sudden urge to put it on today. I wonder where he got it from?" Harry seemed thoughtful, but Remus shook his head.

"It was very special to Sirius. He apparently fought like a banshee when they took it off him in Azkaban. His soul mate gave it to him..F." Remus faltered and put out a hand to touch it reverently. He closed his eyes for a moment and he swallowed visibly. He knew it was the pull of the moon making him more emotional, but he didn't need to lose it in front of Harry. If anything, he needed to be fully understanding and supportive for Harry in the future.

Harry blinked at Remus' touch of the pendant. He was surprised at the mournful look on Remus' face and things suddenly became abundantly clear. Harry grasped Remus' hand and pulled away. "You were Sirius' soul mate – weren't you? You were more than just lovers?"

Remus nodded and closed his eyes. He wasn't seeing Sirius standing directly before him, but he could almost see him and smell him and...

Curse those bloody journals and Emmaline for bringing back such thoughts. He had no doubt that he would be a maudlin wolf tonight that would curl up and howl his sorrows to the moon.

Remus took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. "You look good, Harry. Almost too good. Sirius would have wanted you to wear that, you know. He'll be glad. So, who are you trying to impress tonight?" The awkward moment was over as Remus offered a quick smile.

"Er, nobody, Remus." Harry swallowed hard. Remus was acting very strangely, and he couldn't work out why. The fact he seemed to be wavering was confusing. He was giving Harry such strange signals, but Harry tried to bury that stupid feeling that rose whenever Remus showed him any ounce of interest.

"I know you better than that, Harry. You seem to be much happier. Who's caught your eye? Surely it's not that new Care of Magical Creatures teacher," he smiled wryly. He wanted to suggest Draco was the target, but he didn't know if Harry was really ready to hear that just yet.

"Oh, you know that Charlie is coming on staff?" Harry was surprised.

Remus nodded. "I don't blame you for trying to look your best for him. You had a thing for him once, didn't you?"

Harry blushed and looked away. "Was I that obvious as a kid?" Remus just smiled, but Harry backed down. "I'm not really trying to impress anyone – at least, not anyone who's here. It's just..." Harry took a deep breath before continuing. "I... well, I sort of told Luc..."

Remus nodded in understanding, "You mentioned that you love him. Are you absolutely sure about that?"

Harry looked at him, the honesty radiating from his face and emanating from his eyes. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life, Remus."

Remus put a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder. A small smile passed his lips as he realised that Harry was moving closer to realising the truth. "Well then, Flash, you'll just have to use your considerable charm to convince Luc."

Harry was about to reply when Remus looked over his shoulder. "Draco!" Harry turned and saw the blond as his head poked around the edge of the open door. "Come in!" Remus offered as his hand slipped from Harry's shoulder.

Harry could not help but take a second glance at Draco's rather stunning Muggle clothing. It seemed that no matter what Draco chose to wear, he always looked good. It was then that he remembered the earlier conversation he overheard, and he blushed as he realised that Draco was, by his own admission, gay. He quickly tried to look away and pretend he wasn't checking out his new friend, but Draco caught his eye and gave him a curt smile.

"I would have been here a little earlier, Remus, but I was sidetracked. I'm so sorry. I hope I haven't kept you waiting."

"Not at all, Draco. I was just passing the time here with Harry." Remus seemed to be also checking out Draco's rather snug attire, and looking at it appreciatively. Harry felt a moment of jealousy, but berated himself for being ridiculous. Remus was not checking out Draco, and if he were, then Harry had no right to feel jealous. He still found it hard to see them being friendly, but he would just have to overcome it.

He watched as Draco handed the steaming goblet to Remus. He was quite distracted by the sight of Draco's forearm and his hands as they grasped the goblet. I am not looking at Draco's hands. I'm not. Draco stumbled and Remus grabbed him, stopping him from spilling it at just the last minute. As he did so, Harry noticed the rather familiar touch Remus gave Draco's hands. He smiled at Draco and didn't let go until Draco retained his balance. Harry just blinked. Is Remus flirting with Draco? He can't be! Harry didn't know what to think, but he knew that his own heightened senses were driving him along one track and his mind was thinking about one thought only. Now he was being ridiculous. He had to get out of there before he said – or did – something stupid.

He excused himself and left with a brusque nod. He didn't want to see or think of Remus flirting with Draco. What's so wrong with it, Harry? You just told him you are in love with Luc. Why does it bother you so much he's eyeing off Draco? Could you deny him that if that is what he wanted? And when did Draco start looking so fucking hot?

Harry had distracted Draco when he arrived in Remus' rooms. He had not expected him there, and he was momentarily startled. He needed to apologise, and he couldn't get past that desire. But he couldn't say the words. Something was holding him back. He merely nodded at Harry and headed over to Remus with the Wolfsbane goblet, spouting something to Remus about being late.

He felt so lame. Malfoys were never ones for admitting they were wrong, but surely just a few words could not be that difficult to say? What was he so afraid of? Was it Harry? Or was it the possibility that by apologising he might just lose that pleasantness that was forced upon them. It suddenly struck him that it was quite nice to have Harry around and be friends. It was all he ever wanted all those years ago – to be Harry's friend. Why ruin the status quo now with an apology?

His crazy thoughts were wandering again, and it didn't help that Harry was looking very fetching in his own casual way. Draco noted that he was wearing that wonderfully earthy cologne – the same one worn by Jean-Paul. It didn't help his concentration, and he nearly spilled the goblet. Remus steadied him when he nearly tripped. He was brought back to reality as Remus still clung to him.

He noticed Harry clearing his throat and leaving hastily. Remus seemed a little confused, but Draco was noticing just how well Harry's jeans fitted, and how well groomed the new goatee looked. But Harry was gone before he could actually say another word.

Draco was blushing as Remus still held his hand, but Remus quickly let go, and grabbed the goblet, downing the potion in a few quick gulps.

Remus had not meant to upset Harry. He merely stopped Draco from spilling the potion, and as he stood to help Draco regain his balance, he lingered a little too long and he realised he was holding Draco rather closely. He easily smelled the jealousy on Harry, but he was gone before he could say anything. Have I just made things worse? Bloody hell. There's a reason why I lock myself away during this time of the month.

But for now he was more concerned for Draco. He could see that he seemed worried about Harry as well; he was worrying his lip incessantly, and blushing profusely about how close he was to Draco.

"Er, sorry." Draco nodded. "Is everything all right? You seem troubled." Remus asked.

Draco waved him away. "I'll be fine, Remus. I just... there's just something I have to do."

"Is there anything I can do to help, Draco? I'm here any time you need someone to talk to." He looked at the clock and realised he should soon lock himself away. "Well almost any time."

Draco smiled. "Thanks for the offer, Remus. I appreciate it. But hopefully the problem will go away before the night is over." With that statement, he left for the party.

The sooner he got that apology out of his system, the sooner he could enjoy the party.

If the students thought that the leaving feast was a grand event, then none of them suspected just how lavish the end of year staff party could be. The party usually coincided with Albus Dumbledore's birthday, and as usual, he took great delight in turning it into a grand event.

Far from having a quiet and sedate celebration of his advancing years, the headmaster took delight in planning lavish parties that were based around a theme. Many people suggested that he spent far too much time in the planning of the party, and not enough on serious events. Others thought that the old man was slowly sliding into senility as each year the party became more extravagant and excessive. Whatever their private thoughts, nobody ever went away saying they had a miserable time.

It was only gone half eight, but Harry was drunk. He didn't realise it until he stood up to head back over to the bar, but either someone had cast a disorientation charm, or he had possibly had one too many of those nice green drinks. He couldn't discount the swirling colours from the enchanted ceiling – that certainly could have been the cause of his giddiness. Harry would have suggested that the ceiling was psychedelic as the swirls of bright colour thrummed in time with the music, but he was too drunk to even say the word psychedelic, let alone think it.

As he leaned against the table, he squinted and wondered just why he was feeling so miffed and frustrated. He looked over and focussed on someone. Someone very attractive. Someone he'd want to shag. Oh, it was Charlie. He frowned, trying to remember why he was a little angry with Charlie, but couldn't quite place it. At least, he couldn't, until he saw Charlie fawning all over Severus, and it all came back in a rush.

Charlie was here. And he was looking so fucking hot that Harry would have shagged him right there on the floor. The only problem was that Charlie barely even noticed him.

Dumbledore had announced the new teaching appointments, and as expected, Charlie would be starting in the new year as the Care of Magical Creatures' teacher. Harry was thrilled at the thought of Charlie working on staff, but now he remembered why he was drowning his sorrows. How embarrassed was he going to be come morning?

"Harry!" Charlie had called out as he greeted Harry earlier in the evening. Harry turned. Hearing his name in that sexy rumble of a voice sent a shiver right to his cock, which took definite notice. He really didn't need to feel that right now.

"Charlie, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice not doing a good job of hiding the fact he already knew. Charlie looked well – even better than normal, (if that were at all possible). He looked decidedly delicious in his casual cream shirt and brown tailored trousers. The grin on Charlie's face was full of warmth, and Harry tried to overcome his overt sexual urges as he talked with the former dragon tamer.

"Don't worry, Harry; Hermione told me today that she let slip I was coming this way. So, how have you been?" Charlie seemed to fall into the small talk easily, but Harry noticed that he really was quite distracted. It was good to see the man, even if he made Harry practically swoon like a girl with his mere presence.

He should have known better than to let fleeting thoughts of Charlie get to him. Harry downed another of those delicious little green cocktails as he chatted with Charlie – sticking to safe subjects – like Ron's wedding. As he spoke, he noticed Charlie wasn't giving Harry his full attention. He turned, only to notice Severus skulking around in his corner of the room, as usual, by Draco. As he turned back to talk to Charlie, he noticed the seductive smile on Charlie's face, accompanied by the sad look of longing.

Harry knew that look well. He had worn it for years whenever he was in the room with Charlie. His own teen infatuation with Charlie was still running strong, even after their promises to stay friends, but it hurt to see Charlie working the room for someone else. Someone like that greasy old Potions master. Charlie saw Harry had noticed the direction of his gaze.

"So, Harry. What's it like to work with Severus?" he asked in a low, sexy rumble.

Harry shrugged. He would not let his unbidden jealousy get the better of him. It was Charlie! "Oh, no different to having been his student. At least now he doesn't take points. Luckily, I can ignore him for the most part."

"Oh," Charlie seemed a little disappointed in that answer. "And tell me then," he whispered conspiratorially, "Malfoy seems awfully close to him – are they... I mean..." Harry knew what Charlie was saying. He wasn't the first to think that something was going on between the master and his apprentice.

"No, nothing between them other than years of association."

"So Malfoy isn't bent? He sure looks it." Harry rolled his eyes and wondered why he never suspected it sooner. Until that morning when he overheard Damien Michaels, he could have sworn that Draco was as straight as an arrow.

"Oh, no, he definitely plays for our team, or so I've heard," Harry replied.

"Well, it seems I've got my work cut out for me, doesn't it?" Charlie replied with a saucy grin.

"Well you always know where you can come if he proves to be too much of a challenge," Harry whispered seductively in his ear. As the drunken proposition stumbled out of his mouth, he realised that he spoke the words he was thinking, and quickly tried to retract them.

"Harry," Charlie looked a little flustered and very embarrassed. "I thought we agreed to just stay friends. I... I'm flattered..."

"s'alright, Charlie. 'm just drunk. Shit." Harry berated himself and tried to back away before he could embarrass himself further.

"No, Harry, it's not all right. I'm sorry if I've led you on in any way, but I've finally realised what I want in life. You know as well as anyone who I want to be with. I know he'll come around soon, and I really don't want you to mess that up. Please don't think I'm being an arsehole..."

"No, you're right, Charlie. I'm sorry I said anything. I'll apologise later, when I'm sober." Harry walked away feeling more embarrassed than ever, and sat down at the bar to help forget.

The new Care of Magical Creatures teacher had been announced, and Draco saw the look of horror on Severus' face when it was found to be one of the Weasley brothers taking over the role. Draco didn't care for the fact it was a Weasley, but he admitted (very reluctantly) that he was quite fit and would provide Draco with plenty to look at over the school breakfast table.

Draco had been keeping a keen eye on Harry, and had watched him follow Weasley eagerly. He also noticed just how much absinthe Harry was drinking, but he was not one to talk. He had lost track of how many glasses of firewhisky he had already downed. He still felt quite in control, but he was still to work up enough courage to approach Harry and apologise. Part of him wanted Harry so sloshed that he wouldn't be in any mood to reject him, but he knew that he was just as likely to forget.

Unfortunately, as he surreptitiously tailed Harry, he overheard the tail end of Harry's embarrassing proposition and Weasley's subsequent rejection. He felt somewhat sorry for Harry, who mirrored the rejection in his big, glassy puppy dog eyes. Of course, after hearing Weasley's intended target, he felt equally as sorry for Severus. Seeing a sexual predator like Weasley, Draco knew that Severus was in for a damn fine time – if he could only just relax a little.

No wonder Severus had joined Professor Sprout the moment it was announced that Weasley was to be a permanent member of staff. He could not help but grin. It was certainly going to be an interesting year.

Just when he was ready to approach Harry, he was surprised by the headmaster's next announcement. A resounding wave of applause followed the news that Harry would be staying on as an assistant to Remus in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Strangely, a profound sense of relief washed over Draco. He didn't have to apologise to Harry straight away, for he wasn't leaving. Harry's staying. He couldn't work out why he wasn't upset with that news. After all, he had been looking forward to seeing the back of Harry when he left. Why on earth am I suddenly happy that he's staying? Don't think you can't get out of apologising. Flash won't let you, Draco.

Harry did look Draco's way as the announcement was made, and he smiled widely, which made it all that much harder for Draco to admit he should be saying he was sorry. He downed another firewhisky to drum up more Dutch courage.

Draco was about to head over and talk to Severus, but found that Sprout had been supplanted by Weasley, who had cornered Severus and was being quite obvious about his intentions towards the Potions master. He was being so obvious that even Draco noticed the sultry and smouldering looks he gave Severus. In return, he could see Severus trying desperately to fob him off. There was obviously some history between the two – something Draco was not privy to, but Severus was old enough to look out for himself.

He wandered back over to the bar – he wasn't going to get involved in Severus' love life (although if it meant Severus would relax and get laid, then Draco was all for it) – but he noticed Harry watching Weasley and Severus with a darkly jealous look on his face.

Harry regained some of his equilibrium as he stopped drinking, but he suddenly found himself feeling ever so maudlin. His wonderfully relaxed mood had been soured by the fact that he had been on a thoroughly inexplicable emotional roller coaster all evening. Remus, Charlie, and even Draco had been affecting him all day, and he tried hard to fob it off.

It didn't help that he took to watching Draco after he couldn't bear to watch Charlie flirting outrageously with Snape. He couldn't figure out Draco. The boy with the passionate hatred of all things Muggleborn and 'Mudblood' was now a keen fan of BBC radio 1 and was dressed in what Harry admitted was a fine ensemble. The fact that Malfoy seemed to have an extended wardrobe of Muggle clothes was a source of curiosity to Harry. Draco would rarely let you forget that he was descended from a very long line of pureblood wizards, but for someone with such a pedigree, Harry felt that he had too much of a grasp on the reality of the Muggle world – unlike most wizards. Even Arthur Weasley's fascination with gadgets was full of holes in his logic. Malfoy could pass down any street in London and look decidedly 'ordinary', albeit strikingly so.

As the night progressed, Harry tried to sober up, but found his eye wandering back time and again to watch Draco. It must have seemed like he was being rude, because everyone who came up to him to make small talk soon left him alone. He seemed surprised yet somewhat glad that Draco was avoiding him. A sudden vision of his strange recurring dream assaulted him and along with the fact that he definitely knew Draco was gay, he realised that he was in desperate need of a shag himself.

Of course, this seemed like a complete betrayal of the fact he was in love with Luc. Here he was, surrounded by damn good looking gay men (with the exception of Snape – he wasn't that hard up – just what in the world was Charlie thinking?), and all he could think about was sex. Of course, he couldn't think terribly straight with so much alcohol in his system. What was in those little green drinks? Dangerous stuff. Some sort of pure alcohol judging by the fact I can barely think straight.

Of course, now he was maudlin about everything. He was so maudlin that even the terribly merry Professor Sprout avoided him. Dobby tried several times to get Harry to drink a Sobrietus potion, but every time he offered, his mind wandered back to Luc and he felt even worse.

Unfortunately, his cock was rock hard and he was going to get no relief. Not that he wanted any – at least – not without Luc. He was totally trashed, and there was only one thing he could do.

Draco thought he had been keeping an eagle eye on Harry, but found that every time he had enough courage to go over and talk to him, he was chatting to some other staff member. He had not failed to notice Harry's worsening drunken condition, and had sent Dobby over with a vial of Sobrietus. With that much absinthe in his system, Harry would certainly be feeling awful come morning, but Draco didn't want him to forget that he had at least attempted to apologise.

Draco was ready to make his move when he saw Harry alone. His palms were sweating as he walked carefully over to the bar. He was suddenly jostled and found himself sprawled in Professor Sprout's arms.

Severus had been right. Professor Sprout was a terrible drunk and should not have been allowed anywhere near the cocktails, for her hands were more tenacious than devil's snare. It took him several minutes to convince her that he wasn't interested in a quick cuddle, but he only managed to fob her off when he mentioned that Severus might need her assistance. He really felt sorry about that, but knew that Severus would understand. He might even be grateful for the reprieve from Weasley's incessant flirting.

When he turned around to head back towards the bar, Harry was gone. He looked everywhere, but he had either slid to the floor, or he was gone. Draco seemed lost. Why was fate stopping him? Just when he had the balls to finally do what he should have done days ago, Harry finally disappears.

Draco slammed his glass down on the bar and headed to the bathroom. He could really do with a cigarette to calm himself down. At least there he would be able to avoid any more distractions. Surely it wouldn't be too much to ask if Harry could just stay in the one spot long enough for Draco to explain himself and apologise. And hope that he doesn't fling it back in my face.

Harry raced from the Great Hall, narrowly avoiding Professor Sprout and her amorous advances yet again. He needed somewhere quiet, and headed further away from the hall – well past the crowded areas. He passed the student lavatory on the first floor and stopped. He could barely think straight. The room was deserted and Harry didn't bother to cast a charm to set the wall sconces alight; the full moon provided enough light for what he needed. He rushed straight over to the sink.

Splashing water on his face did little to help his situation. He was rock hard and needed a wank more than anything. He was too far drunk to contemplate any form of meditation to will it away, so he was left with the only other logical course of action. He needed to get off as quickly as possible, then fall down in a drunken heap.

Harry felt like a naughty schoolboy that had been skipping out on classes for the sole purpose of getting off. There had been times when he felt forced to either follow that line of action, or spend the next hour in class and find himself too hard and horny to concentrate. The irony was not lost on him. He distinctly remembered being in a similar situation in his last year of school. He'd been so distracted during and after a Quidditch practice, that he didn't realise how much he needed to get off until he was halfway back to the Gryffindor common room. He was sure he stepped into this very same lavatory all those years earlier.

The sights and sounds of the party were well and truly muffled, and the only sound seemed to be that of his heart beating heavily in his chest. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes. Visions of Remus, Charlie and Draco assaulted his closed eyelids, and he knew he wouldn't take too long to reach completion. Why was he surrounded by such good looking men? Why now, just when he realised he didn't want anyone else but Luc. May as well enjoy himself for a bit.

As he let out a huge sigh of relief, he opened his eyes, only to see a vision of Draco as he was dressed for the party. If that was the sight he was going to get off on, then so be it. It was only when the vision of Draco started talking that he realised he wasn't alone. He found it hard to stop, but the alcohol coursing through him slowed down all his reactions.

Draco decided that the boys' lavatory was the best place for a quick cigarette, if only to gather his nerve and then go looking for Harry. As he entered, he thought he heard a noise at the other end of the room. The sconces were not lit, so it couldn't be anyone using the facilities. He assumed it was probably a rat. He quietly lit his cigarette and was enjoying the first long drag when he heard the sound again. It sounded like someone sniffing, then gasping. That combination of sound was quite familiar.

He walked further into the room and stopped when he spotted the source of the sound near the sinks. He was utterly speechless as his eyes drank in the sight of Harry as he seemed unaware of his exhibitionist behaviour. It was an impressive sight, one Draco had not imagined stumbling upon, but one that brought back very vivid memories from years earlier.

Harry opened his eyes as he heard a gasp and immediately recognised the intruder by the uncommon yet familiar smell of cigarette smoke. Harry couldn't stop, but as his gaze focussed on Draco, he noted that he was transfixed by what he was seeing. His neglected cigarette dangled limply from his fingers and he swallowed visibly. For a split second, Harry felt even more aroused by the fact that he was being watched, but the moment was ruined when Draco finally managed to gather his wits and allow his mouth to move into gear. Unfortunately, it resorted to childish banter instead of making itself useful.

"If I knew you were putting on a show, I'd be selling tickets at the door, Harry." Draco's very familiar old smirk accompanied his humoured drawl.

"I don't perform for an audience, Draco." Harry snapped back, not making any attempt to cover himself. Draco involuntarily licked his lower lip. Despite how he thought that should make him feel, Draco was certainly not moving away in a great hurry.

Harry's head leaned back against the wall. "Piss off, Draco. Can't I have five minutes of peace without you tormenting me?"

Draco raised an elegantly arched brow and his lip curled up in a smirk. "Oh, don't stop on my account, Harry." His voice caught and his drawl sounded even huskier than normal. He took another long drag of the cigarette before flicking it into the sink. He moved a step closer to Harry, and he was in no position to make a sudden move away. Part of him wanted to run, but the alcohol sloshing around in his system wanted very much to stay, and for Draco to do the same.

Harry noticed Draco's Adam's apple bobbing up and down his throat as he swallowed hard. He blinked rapidly as beads of sweat began to drip into his eyes. "I'm not trying... I just wanted to get away... too much..." Harry hung his head and he almost forgot that Draco was standing there. He came down there for a reason, and be blowed if Draco was going to stop him. He was beyond caring.

He was so far beyond caring, that he barely noticed that Draco was standing so close that he could practically feel his body heat radiating with his own. A familiar snickered laugh was so close, he could smell the distinct nicotine tang on Draco's breath. "Good thing you came in here to have one off the wrist, Harry. You nearly embarrassed yourself out there. Although, I have to admit, he's quite fit – for a Weasley. I'm sure I'd be in a similar predicament if I had such a thing for him as you seem to have." Harry noticed Draco was now leaning on the wall directly beside him, and he chuckled as he saw that Draco was trying to hide a rather telltale bulge in the front of his own jeans. That gaudy belt buckle practically pointed it out to anyone who was looking.

"You know," Harry gasped as Draco's whispered hoarsely, "How does it feel to know that someone doesn't want you? It must be a novel feeling."

He growled in frustration. "Either piss off, Malfoy, or make yourself useful." The sight, sound and smell of Draco invading his personal space was making Harry angry enough to get off even more quickly.

"Tsk, tsk, Harry," Draco drawled. "I know you can do better than that. I've seen you put on a better show than this. What ever happened to that champion seeker and his wondrous post match performances?" He raised an eyebrow in question.

Harry tried to make sense of Draco's words, and he soon realised that Draco had possibly spied on him before – most likely in the Quidditch showers. Of course, whilst Harry had never stooped to such voyeurism, it did not surprise him to learn Draco had done so. The thought that Draco had spied on him only made him angrier, and he stopped his hands and grabbed for Draco's crotch. He grinned lazily in confirmation that the impressive bulge in Draco's jeans was definitely very real – and very, very hard. It seemed he wasn't the only one with an 'urgent' need.

Draco jumped back at the touch of Harry's hand, and his fingers encircled Harry's wrist as he pushed his hands away. Draco smirked. It seemed that he was a talker, because he just wouldn't shut up.

"Must be hard wanting Weasley and knowing he doesn't want you, hmmm? Although I have to agree, he's one gorgeous piece of arse. What fellow wouldn't want to do him? I bet if Weasley offered, you'd let him do you right then and there and you wouldn't care if Voldemort himself were watching. I've been watching you all night. Your desire for him is as plain as the scar on your face. You want him." Draco whispered the last few words.

"Still," Draco drawled again as his hands started to be put to good use. He continued to taunt Harry with harsh words. "It must be hard to see that he only has eyes for Severus. What a pity that pureblood calls to pureblood, whilst you're left to toss one off the wrist in a grungy student bathroom."

If Harry didn't know any better, he would have guessed that Draco knew just what made him shiver and squirm. His disconnected thoughts could only attribute it to the fact that he had already spied on him in the showers. But he was soon shaking from desire. "Honestly, Harry. Are you a wizard, or a bloody Muggle? Do you realise that there are spells instead of doing this? Although, I have to admit, doing things the manual way on occasion has its merits."

Harry moaned appreciatively. "Stop it," he managed to cry hoarsely.

Draco sneered and licked his lips again. "Whatever for? You're enjoying it. Go on, admit it."

Harry moaned in agreement.

"See, told you that you needed a hand..." Draco kept up the pace and pressure, not letting him find release just yet.

"I'm quite capable of... getting off on my own... without your assistance, Draco..." Harry's hands had been attempting to find purchase on the cold and clammy stone wall, but one hand finally found Draco's waist and pulled him in closer. Memories of late night dreams began to form in his mind and he wondered why this Draco seemed so hesitant when the Draco of his dream was so eager to participate.

Draco laughed, "Tsk, tsk. So sloppy, Potter. I thought you were learning all about control – isn't that what you told me? Don't you know that the secret to all forms of control starts with desire? Bring yourself to the edge, then ease off, old boy. Don't just rut away like a dog in heat, hold back. Bury your desire deep and you'll be able to hold back an orgasm all night if you so desire, and then, when you finally break over the edge, you'll have the most amazing orgasm you've ever experienced." Harry struggled as one hand found the folds of Draco's shirt and was clutching desperately.

"Oh, you like it rough, do you?" Draco was back to talking, but Harry could see he was still licking his lips. That mole above his lip quivered and Harry had an unconscious desire to lick it. He watched a bead of sweat trickle down Draco's neck, and he felt the need to lick that too. "Is that why you've been pining and lusting after Remus as well? Is he animal enough for you? He's such a man, isn't he?" Draco's words were harsh, but this wasn't gentle lovemaking in a plush bed. This was him up against a toilet wall with Malfoy - who had rather talented hands. Harry's temper finally rose to the surface, and he didn't notice the fires in the wall sconces suddenly flare to life.

"What would you know about him, Malfoy?" Harry growled and snapped bitterly. He didn't know if Draco was trying to hit a nerve, but he wasn't going to stop now.

Draco laughed. "You're jealous! Oh this is priceless. But he's rejected you too, hasn't he? You really aren't getting lucky lately, are you? Looks like I'm the only one offering to scratch your itch, Harry, and you appear to be enjoying every minute, despite the fact you are fighting it with every fibre of your being." Draco punctuated each word carefully and his mouth was almost in Harry's ear.

Harry was so pleased when Draco's mouth finally stopped talking and that small pink tongue finally darted out and licked up his throat before teasing the shell of his ear. The tension welling in his groin finally burst. Just as he did, he could have sworn that he could hear Luc. He might have called his name, but couldn't be sure as his body came down from the height of passion.

Draco was aching with his own need. He was surprised to find Harry in such a compromising position, but he could not resist lending a hand, particularly when he found the idea so enticing. Something had unconsciously drawn him to torment Harry verbally – he could only blame the firewhisky and his own stupid obsession with Harry. Still, he was in no doubt as to Harry's feelings as he saw lust and longing radiate from those expressive eyes. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard Harry cry out a name, but it was lost in an enormous sigh of relief. His mind was still processing this unexpected turn of events.

He didn't realise that he was also breathing heavily in need. Just as he moved away to head for the sink, Harry grabbed his hand and brought it to his mouth. Draco had not felt so turned on in a long time. He closed his eyes as Harry's tongue bathed his hand. "You know, I always get turned on by hands. I like yours," Harry chuckled, sounding as drunk as he apparently was. "'Choo know what they say about slender hands, Draco?" Harry asked.

Draco was thinking of his recent conversation with Flash about hands, and he wanted to nod in agreement, but his accursed memory took that moment to remind him he should really be saying something very different to Harry. He shoved all thoughts of apology away as he let Harry massage his hand. He would think about apologising tomorrow. After all, he had all the time in the world, right?

It seemed that Draco's inaction emboldened Harry. Either that or the absinthe that must be coursing through his veins had given him false bravado. For once, Harry lost all airs and graces and Draco could see that the man before him was not full of his own self-importance – as Draco had assumed for so many years. How the hell could he have been so wrong?

Draco was completely aware of their extremely close proximity and attempted to gain a little more personal space. Harry didn't want that. In a movement that seemed way too swift for Harry in his current state, Draco found himself pinned up against the wall and his mouth being thoroughly plundered by Harry's. He could easily identify the aftertaste of the absinthe and combined with Harry's heady cologne, it was an intoxicating combination.

Harry's hand's started to move to Draco's waistband, but he quickly realised what Harry was up to and pushed him away. For a brief moment, his mouth protested and wanted the return of that tongue and those chapped, but ever so talented lips.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing Potter? I'm not in this to get off, if that's what you think..." Draco's lip curled in disgust and he rubbed his face where Harry's new goatee had scratched against his fair skin. He was not going to admit that he loved the feel of rough facial hair against his skin. It was such an arousing experience – when he wanted it to be.

Harry chuckled again and Draco realised he wasn't making much of an effort to protest. "Oh Draco, your mouth always enjoys a bit of action. I just thought I'd give it a bit of a rest from spouting a constant string of taunts."

Harry placed both his hands on Draco's waist, and he tensed under Harry's touch. Harry raised an eyebrow in return. "I'm not entirely stupid, Draco. I know if you'd had the chance to watch me quietly, you'd have had your hand down your trousers as eagerly as if you were chasing a snitch. I don't think you'll be having a little laugh at my expense over in the corner, Draco."

Harry pulled at his belt buckle, flinging it across the room as he pulled Draco's shirt out and ripped open the buttons on Draco's jeans. The buckle clattered noisily as it hit the pipes under the sink. Draco suddenly realised he was no longer in control of events, but suddenly, he no longer cared. "How is it that you can look so unfuckingbelievably good in jeans?" Harry mumbled. "I bet you'd say it's something to do with your pure blood, but I think it's probably just the fact that it's Muggle clothing."

Draco couldn't respond, but didn't want Harry to have the satisfaction of winning this tussle. He tried to remember everything Jean-Paul taught him – everything that had been repeated nightly in his dreams, but Harry was rough.

Harry snickered. "Don't you ever lose control, Draco? Don't you ever let a single precious strand of hair get out of line?" Harry laughed as Draco groaned enticingly, wetting his lips as he felt the pleasure. Harry laughed. "You know, I can't believe I thought you were straight. How Slytherin of you - making everyone think you're engaged. But you've always been a cons.. a cons.. oh, fuck, I am too drunk to think," Harry blurted. "'Choo always hide behind that poncy mask."

Draco shivered as Harry's lips parted and blew across his ear. "Why..." Draco finally found his voice again. "Why do you keep tormenting me?"

"I could ask you the same question," Harry retorted. "In fact, I think I did. I'm just trying to eke out an existence as an ordinary wizard – one who isn't famous and who could possibly manage some time alone in the loo without someone coming along and encouraging me."

"I... I'm sorry..." Draco whispered the quiet apology in between breaths, but he was beyond the point where he cared if Harry heard or not.

Harry blew hotly into Draco's ear with a sibilant hiss. He could not help but watch every play of emotion on Draco's face, but he was taken aback when he saw that it mirrored the one that he remembered from his time with Oliver.

Draco was more startled than surprised as he gathered his breath. Never in a million years did he think that he would have been a party to what just happened. For some strange reason, he felt the same overwhelming sense of desire that plagued him in Marrakesh. The only problem was that this time, when he did, the first thing he saw was Harry's eyes, and a desperate sense of something more was not lingering in the afterglow.

He was still looking startled when he realised that Harry had moved away. He could only begin to imagine how Harry felt as he dared a sideways glance in Harry's direction.

Harry still seemed somewhat dazed, but the plain look of surprise on his face told Draco that he was just as surprised by what had just happened. "Don't worry, Malfoy, I bet I'll regret this in the morning just as much as you. I hope to Merlin you know how to make a Sobrietus potion, coz I know I'm gonna need one." Harry seemed a little less assured as he tried to gather his wits and they both stood in the awkward silence.

Draco took a moment to compose himself. For all his earlier bravado and bluster, he was strangely lost for words – again.

Harry saw the look of confusion on Draco's face, but assumed it was a look of disgust now that the blood had returned to their brains. He stepped forward but was unable to articulate any words to Draco.

"I... I'm sorry." Draco blurted as he quickly strode out of the loo. Harry couldn't work out how he walked so fast without his cane, but he splashed some water on his face to help himself sober up. He hoped to goodness he could wake up feeling human in the morning.

Surprisingly, Harry realised he had needed the aggressive distraction with Draco, for he now felt much calmer, and knew that once he sobered, he would be in a perfect frame of mind to meditate. Despite that, he still felt the itch of desire underneath his skin. He wanted more.

And surprisingly, he very much wanted to see that look on Malfoy's face again, and again, and know that it was just for him.

As he turned around he stood on something hard. Looking down, he noticed the silver dragon buckle and picked it up. He would give it to Draco tomorrow. That's if he's speaking to me. Somehow I doubt it will be all roses and chocolates come morning. It's Malfoy, for Merlin's sake!

He realised what had seemed so different just as he made it to the door of his rooms. He called me Potter, I called him Malfoy. It seems our animosity is gone. I should certainly hope so.

He fell rather than crawled into bed, but he was way too drunk to notice that for the first time in years, he slept peacefully and without his usual tossing and turning.

Draco wandered back to his room in a daze. What the fuck was I thinking? I only wanted to apologise to Harry. What in the four hells came over me? It had to have been the firewhisky – and the absinthe that Harry was drinking. There is no other explanation. Draco tried to rationalise what had happened, but he was so tired, yet so sated that his mind was racing off on a dozen different tangents.

I will so regret this in the morning, no doubt. But Harry had surprised him. He was more wanton and expressive than Draco ever imagined. And you have imagined quite a bit since he's featured in your dreams nearly every fucking night this past few weeks.

But there was one thing that he couldn't ignore as he cast a cleaning charm on himself before getting into bed. He had apologised to Harry – in a fashion. He didn't hate Harry, even if they had returned to their own surnames. Dumbledore's curse had worn off, which meant that they obviously were over their animosity. But now that he got that obsession out of his system, why did he suddenly feel that he was only just starting to obsess over the Boy Who Lived?

June 15, Sunday

It was well after noon when Harry dared to open an eye. He could not work out what was wrong, but he had fallen asleep where he fell on the bed – flat on his stomach with his glasses digging into his face. He tried to turn and get rid of the crick in his neck, but it was too much movement too soon. What was I drinking? I think I'll be avoiding anything green from now on.

He eventually managed, with much difficulty, to sit up. He kept his head in his hands as too much movement was not a good idea. He flung his glasses on the side table and dug his wand out of the side pocket of his jeans. He needed to go back to sleep. Anything to get rid of the giants who were pounding on his head and the troll that crawled in his mouth and died.

He took a few moments to realise that the pounding was on his door – it was only echoing awfully in his head. It would go away if he ignored it. He rolled over and stuck a pillow over his head to muffle the noise.

An instant later, Harry heard the unmistakeable 'crack' and felt a heavy weight land on him, winding him momentarily.

"Harry Potter, Sir! Dobby is so sorry, but you is not answering your door!" Dobby saw the angered scowl on Harry's face and quickly scrambled out of immediate harm's way.

"Dobby, what 'choo want?" Harry closed his eyes and willed the house elf away, but he was still there."

"Dobby was asked to give you this last night. Harry Potter drank too much absinthe, and you needed a Sobrietus potion to prevent any nasty after effects. Harry Potter should be taking it now." Dobby put a small potions vial on the bedside table and watched as Harry grabbed the vial without a second thought. His prayers had been answered.

It took a few minutes to finally sink in, but he was feeling somewhat more human with each passing minute. Unfortunately, nothing could be done about the taste of dead troll in his mouth, but he looked at Dobby questioningly. "Was there something else, Dobby? Oh, thank you for the potion. It was just what I needed."

"Dobby was wondering if Harry Potter would like some lunch?" Dobby asked eagerly.

"Lunch?" He looked out the window and realised just how late it truly was. "Er, no thanks. I think I'll head down to Hogsmeade for a bit." He might catch a nice meal at Emmaline's. Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he could not think what.

Dobby left, and as he dragged himself into the shower, he looked at the dishevelled state of his clothes. The dried stains on his shirt were unmistakeable, and the events of the previous night came back in a great big screaming heap. Harry grasped the rail on the side of the shower as he realised what he had done. "Oh fuck," he said aloud. Standing under the hot spray, he eventually washed away all evidence of what had happened the night before. I gave Draco a fucking hand job in the lavatory! How drunk was I? How drunk was he for that matter? That's going to make for pleasant banter the next time we talk. Oh, wait until I tell Luc...

It was then that Harry realised two things. He had arranged to talk to Luc some time that afternoon – much earlier than their usual time. But did he really want to tell him? Luc would most likely think he was an utter prick for what he did – and so soon after Harry laid his cards on the table and told him that he loved him. Oh Harry, why the fuck did you go and say something stupid? But you can't lie to Luc, not in the journal...

Harry was sombre as he packed his journal and made his way down to the Leaf and Bean. Just how was he going to tell Luc that he betrayed him? It was a mistake. Surely Luc would understand that. He had promised himself that he would take the journal and write whilst he was at Emmaline's shop. It made him feel just that much closer to Luc, and now he knew he would need the fortitude of a nice pot of tea and something sweet and sticky to help him confess.

Just as he was to walk out the door, he spotted his I Ching coins. What harm could it do? As he flipped the top coin, he decided that he would either tell Luc everything, or he would obliviate the events of the previous night. He would forget embarrassing himself in front of Charlie, Merlin, I have to apologise to him too. And he would definitely forget all about that amazing hand job in the lavatory.

The coin landed. Damn. Even divination wasn't going his way. He was going to confess to Luc after all.

Draco was ever so glad he had agreed to talk to Flash that day. The night before had definitely not ended the way he expected, but he was still coming to terms with the fact that his erotic dream featuring Harry Potter had suddenly taken a major detour into reality.

He was hugging his coffee very carefully as he replayed the previous night's events. What confused him the most was the fact that he actually enjoyed it. He desperately needed another cigarette, but Emmaline would just frown and vanish any cigarettes she saw anywhere near him. He was fortunate that Severus had the foresight to leave a Sobrietus potion for him that morning, but with the clarity came the knowledge of the previous night's events.

The coffee was good, and the Leaf and Bean was crowded with a pleasing crowd of people who were browsing the shelves between pots of tea and the odd cup of coffee. The pastries were the most popular item and Emmaline was thinking of expanding the range of treats she offered.

He was glad for his seat in the quiet back corner. It was quite warm and cosy and afforded enough privacy in the crowded shop for him to pull out his journal. He was glad for Flash's suggestion to write a little earlier than their usual time. He had always thought Emmaline's store was a perfect place to converse with him. It suddenly struck him that he discovered the journal in Emmaline's old shop, and he had first read Flash's words there. Now he was going to write back in her store. It seemed... fitting.

As he brought out his quill and ink, he knew exactly what Flash would ask. So did last night with Harry constitute an apology? I have no idea, but I really doubt Harry's going to be in a chipper mood when we next talk.

He was going to write a few words first, but looked at the clock on the wall. He still had a few minutes before he was due to talk. He would take that time to compose exactly what he was going to say.

Harry almost didn't get a table at the Leaf and Bean, but spotted a small table near the window. He ordered a pot of chamomile tea – something nice and soothing. The fruit flans also looked very tempting, and Harry asked for two. He could not believe the crowd and was pleased that this new shop seemed to be doing well. As he was about to sit, he spotted the unmistakeable blond head across the room, and his sudden good mood deflated.

He really wasn't up for a confrontation with Draco – not just yet. Besides, he really didn't want to drag all these other people into the fray. He kept his head down and hoped that Draco would leave without noticing him. He could only live in hope.

Draco was never more glad to see Flash's writing than today. He certainly had a lot to tell, and it had only been two days since they last wrote.

Dearest Luc, You won't believe what I did last night. Actually, you will probably believe it, but I'm still trying to come to terms with having done something stupid – yet again. Hey there Flash. I'm fairly certain in the grand scheme of things that you could not have done anything worse than me. I think if we compared notes, you would find I'm the biggest prat of them all. Okay, I'm game to swap stories, but I still have to apologise now for my rather candid admission the other day... Are you saying you've changed your mind? You don't love me any more? No, it's not that. I have never been more certain of that in my entire life. I still love you, Luc, but I'm wondering if you'll still be my friend after I tell you what happened last night. I wish I could be so certain of something, Flash. I did something totally unexpected last night, but the crazy thing is that I am still trying to come to terms with it this morning. I'm listening, Luc. Tell me what you did that you think is so crazy. Sweet Merlin, have you ever been so drunk you lost control of the situation?

Harry smiled. Of course he had. Only just the night before. He could not help but laugh at Luc and his overabundant desire to turn everything into a melodrama. He was quite keen to listen to Luc. Anything to put off telling him what had happened.

If only you knew, Luc. I'll tell you about my drunken exploits later. It's a deal. You know, I was all ready to apologise to Mr Burning Hatred last night, but I didn't. I know you're probably thinking I'm really awful, but I was all ready to do it, but things got out of hand. But you did try? What did he say? Well, I don't know what he said. I think I shouted out that I was sorry, but his hand was working my cock and I was a little preoccupied with other matters at the time. So was he for that matter. You probably didn't want to hear that, and I'm sorry. I know how you feel.

Harry did feel a little deflated. So Luc had managed to finally seduce this guy he hated. He felt that now familiar stab of jealousy, but honestly could not begrudge Luc anything.

So you finally seduced him? Didn't I say that it would solve most of your problems? Actually, I think I was the one being seduced. Oh? Oh Flash, I'm so bloody confused. Never in all the years that I've known him have I ever felt so unsure. You know, for seven years of school he was my rival – the seeker of the opposite team and the exact opposite of me in every way. We fought like banshees from the minute he snubbed me on the train to school in our first year...

Harry's teacup clattered noisily against the saucer as he put it down. He seemed to lose all feeling in his arm as he read Luc's words. Surely... no... But Luc was still writing.

But now, these past few months as we have been working together I've come to a greater understanding of him – thanks to you. I no longer see the attention seeking git that I thought was there. He is nothing like that. But we both got drunk last night. I think he was drunker than I was – he did seem to drink enough absinthe to knock out a Hungarian Horntail. I think he was lusting after one of the new staff members (who seems to be quite fit – I'll have to keep you posted about him later). But Flash, I tried so hard to apologise to him, and it was only after I thought he had gone that I spotted him in the loo with his trousers around his knees. It was the most erotic thing I've seen since I spotted him having a wank in the Quidditch showers way back in school. But I won't bore you with all the sordid details, Flash. Suffice to say it was the best and most erotic hand job I think I've ever had in my life. Although I can't say that I've ever done more than have a quick one off the wrist in a lavatory before...

Harry's hand started to shake, and just for a moment, the words blurred on the page. His heart hammered hard in his chest. Why was Luc mirroring his exact thoughts? Surely not... NO, he wouldn't think that. It couldn't. Harry was in the same room as Malfoy. He looked over the other patrons enjoying their brunch, to see the platinum head buried low. A quill scribbled in his hand. Harry looked back to the page to find more emerald words appearing.

Before you start castigating me, I have to confess that it was the hottest quick shag up against the wall I've ever had. I want to do it again. Part of me wants to be thoroughly disgusted by that thought; yet part of me wants to do that again. Am I going crazy? It was truly amazing.

Harry could barely hold his quill as he replied. Surely this had to be a mistake. This wasn't happening.

So you are saying you had drunken sex in a toilet last night with someone you can't stand? Yes, you got it in one, Flash. I still can't believe I'm saying this about him, but I slept dreadfully last night, and all I could think about was wanting to do that again. With him. I know you'll think I'm completely mad. You really don't want to hear the whole sordid saga of my warped relationship with this wizard, but...

Harry jerked back suddenly as the thought struck him that this wasn't really happening. He was dreaming. That was the only explanation. He shifted his journal, only to slide his teacup and pot off the table, smashing them to the ground. He barely noticed through the rush of blood pounding in his head, but he did notice a smear of green ink marring the page. Was it the page or the sudden wetness that formed at the corner of his eyes. Luc was writing again.

Sorry about that. Just got jostled. I'm sitting here in that wonderful new coffee shop in the village and someone just smashed something. Sorry about the mess.

Draco looked up and eyed Harry as the source of the sudden noise. Harry just blinked. His heart beat so hard he could see it leaping out of his chest. Luc – surely he couldn't be Malfoy? The cloud suddenly lifted from his eyes as the final piece of a gigantic jigsaw puzzle fell into place. How many new coffee shops were there in the UK? How many potions apprentices are there with a French background? His hand was shaking as he walked away from the journal. He couldn't look at it again until he had a definitive answer.

Without a second thought, Harry tried to wander casually through the crowded tables of customers and headed towards Malfoy's table. In his rush, he bumped into the back of chairs and nearly wiped out a display stand of books. His heart entirely skipped a beat as he stood close enough to clearly see what Draco was doing.

Draco was wearing his reading glasses as one hand was supporting his head (his blond hair was flopping in his eyes again), whilst the other dipped the fine eagle quill into an ornate cut crystal ink jar – filled with bright emerald ink. As he lowered the quill to the page, Harry noted the lines and edges of an exceedingly familiar book. His step slowed, nearly faltering as he moved closer to Draco's table. He saw the unbidden smile on Draco's face as he wrote, and in an instant the world turned upside down.

Luc was Draco.

Draco was Luc.

He had been writing to Draco Malfoy for months.

And he had just confessed his love for him.

Because he knew that the man at the other end of the journal was his soul mate.

Harry loomed closer over Draco's shoulder, thoroughly unsure of what he was doing, but compelled to move closer. As his hand curled around the back of the chair opposite Draco, he noticed the exceedingly familiar purple scrawl interrupting the cursive emerald script. Of all the wizards in the world, how in Merlin's name have I been pouring my heart and soul out to Draco Malfoy?

Draco looked up, his dreamy gaze suddenly darkening as he spotted Harry, but only slightly. He quickly scrawled one or two more words before immediately closing the book. The cover was a perfect opposite to his own. The tapestry inlay covered the portion that was in leather on his own book, but the pattern was indeed the same. Harry noticed the bleeding green ink stain on Draco's thumb and realised he had often seen a similar stain on his hands at the breakfast table.

"Potter," Draco murmured as he looked up at Harry, his voice catching embarrassingly, "Don't just stand there. I'm sure you don't want to make a scene in front of all these customers. Emmaline would castrate us both." He hugged the journal close, afraid of what would happen if Harry saw it. He seemed a little wary of Harry, like he was suddenly afraid of what he might say or do.

Harry slumped in the chair and held the table for support. His world was turning upside down and he was now face to face with Draco – with Luc. Why have you been doing this to me all these months? Why hide behind a façade and tell me you are my friend? A thousand questions ran through Harry's mind, but only one came out of his mouth.

"Why?" he rasped hoarsely.

Draco pondered the question for the longest time. Why indeed.

TBC in chapter 16...

Thank You: Thank you to SeparatriX and C Dumbledore for doing yet another fantastic beta job. They are both wonderful!

Review Thank You's:

So many people are reading this and we really do thank all of you. It makes us feel so wonderful to know that this little story is impacting on your lives in some way (apologies if we are keeping you from studies or sleep... It's keeping us from ours at times!) A review is a kind of drug that keeps us going, and we would just like to say thank you again. We would like to thank everyone individually, but this chapter is getting long enough as it is (it's nearly at ff . net's file size limit!)

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But a few comments that we would like to address:

dan-rad: Thanks for such a lovely and thorough review. As for Dumbledore, for once, he is oblivious about something...
Yukime: Glad to have you on board with this fic and to let you know the obnoxious Americans from an earlier chapter are based on real examples, unfortunately.
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Louise4: Yes, Remus is keeping his hands off the boys. That's not to say that his own hands will be idle for long...
tensai: Thanks for your very encouraging words. Yes, Azhure gets a little flowery, but she is trying very hard to cut back. Even if the chapters are getting longer, she is definitely working on her sesquipidelian qualities. (It means she's very wordy...)
Shinosu: No, there is no discontinument in this fic. It does take anywhere between 4-6 weeks to create and publish a chapter.

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