Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone

by wintermoon2

Enchanted diaries bring solace to unlikely lost souls. It's a wizarding twist on the classic tale of penpals. What will happen when these mystery writers finally meet? HD Completed!

16. Things Will Never Be The Same Again

Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone
Chapter 16: Things Will Never Be The Same Again

It's not a secret anymore
Now we've opened up the door.
It's not the beginning it's not the end
Things will never be the same again.
Mel C

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.

Thank you all for waiting nearly two months for this, but we did tell you that RL would delay the publishing of this chapter.

Thank You: Thank you to SeparatriX and C Dumbledore for doing yet another fantastic beta job. They are both wonderful! Thank you to all our patient readers who put up with us taking time out for RL in between chapters.

---

"Why?" Harry rasped hoarsely.

Draco pondered the question for the longest time. Why indeed. He got somewhat lost in his own thoughts as he rolled the events of the previous evening through his mind. He didn't even notice that Harry was getting more and more distraught on the other side of the table until he finally looked up. He inhaled sharply as he took in the pained expression in Harry's green eyes - eyes he'd become so familiar with in his recurring dreams. Why is he reacting this way? It was just a mutual wank, for Merlin's sake. Although a damn good one. Who would have guessed Harry could be so... good. Despite thinking this, he was not proud of his behaviour the night before, and he knew he had to explain himself to Harry before ruining the small amount of congeniality they shared.

Harry looked pale and shocked. "You look terrible, Harry. Didn't you get the Sobrietus I sent you?" His genuine concern was the least he could do to make up for some of the things he had said the night before.

Harry frowned, seemingly lost. "You sent that?" he asked. Draco nodded as he saw the look of hurt and confusion Harry carried on his face. He seemed lost in thought and somewhat bewildered.

"Look, Harry I know you'd rather forget that last night ever happened. I have nothing to say to excuse my behaviour. I actually came looking for you to apologise, but well…" Draco could not help but look Harry up and down, realising his eyes had landed on Harry's hands. Hands he could still recall feeling on his body. He quickly snapped out of it when he saw Harry looking. "I have to admit that you presented me with a rather enticing picture, and I'm not exactly proud of what I did – or said. Goodness knows I spent most of the night tossing and turning. Well, turning anyway – the tossing was all but done, wasn't it?"

"What…" Harry was confused, lost in his own thoughts of piecing together this conversation with the events of last night and the new knowledge that Luc and Draco were one and the same.

Draco didn't think Harry was paying any attention. The more Draco spoke, the more despaired Harry looked. He noticed Harry staring at the journal in his hands and he suddenly felt quite possessive. He really didn't feel like sharing Flash with Harry. Merlin knew what Harry would think – or say if he knew what Draco had been doing.

Suddenly, the time felt right to apologise, and Draco knew he could wait no longer. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could censor them. "Look, I'm sorry, Harry." He could not say why it felt right to speak then – perhaps their intimate moment had smoothed the way for him to be brutally honest with Harry. After all, there wasn't much left to hide from Harry Potter.

"You're sorry?" Harry scoffed sarcastically. "You're sorry? Do you play me for a fool, Malfoy?" he repeated incredulously.

Draco's mood soured slightly at Harry's instant dismissal. "Well you're a fine one to talk," Draco snarked back. He didn't miss the fact that Harry used his surname. Why was Harry putting on such an air of victimisation? Taking a deep breath, he dove into the rest of his apology before his words twisted into their usual insults.

"I'm not proud of some of... well most of the things I said last night," Draco admitted with full honesty, "but I will only blame the alcohol for so much. You were certainly amenable to my approaches, Harry, so don't get all righteous now. There was actually one thing I tried to say to you last night, but I don't think you heard me."

"Oh?" A sudden spark of scepticism crossed Harry's face. Perhaps the Sobrietus was finally working, as he seemed a little brighter than a few moments before.

Draco realised he was stalling again and watched as his fingers had been slowly tracing a knot in the timber tabletop. "There was something I had wanted to say to you all night, and I had been trying to get you alone." He took another deep breath and continued. "Over the past few weeks I've come to realise that I may have misjudged you when we were children. I admit that you aren't the braggart that I always thought, and well, I'm trying to say that I'm sorry for thinking that. I... I don't hold any grudges against you any more, Harry."

Harry didn't say a word, and Draco wasn't sure how he was taking it. He dove in to say more before Harry could stop him. "It was much easier to hate you all these years than to admit I was wrong. I realise that now. Malfoys hate to admit they are wrong." Draco laughed wryly as he realised his father would have been mortified at Draco's admission.

Draco waited patiently for Harry to say something. Anything was preferable to the deafening silence that greeted him. Harry cocked his head slightly at Draco's apology, but there was no hint of understanding in Harry's demeanour other than that slight gesture and some softly mumbled words.

"You had the choice between what was right and what was easy." At least that's what it sounded like to Draco. He nodded silently, agreeing with the sentiment.

"Harry – are you all right? Do you need another Sobrietus?" Draco carefully moved his quill and ink jar in case Harry was in the mood for smashing more things. He was genuinely worried that something was seriously wrong with him.

"You're apologising to me?" Harry whispered as he looked up solemnly. Draco certainly had not expected this shocked and passive reaction from Harry. He was still expecting to hear the bitter flow of disbelief to spout forth at any minute.

Of course, he wouldn't be surprised if Harry despised him again. He had every right to after his appalling behaviour. He watched as Harry's reaction turned into a look of surprise.

Instead of a bitter diatribe, Harry glanced again at the journal. Draco became aroused from a sudden thought that Harry's burning gaze was seeing through the journal and staring at what lay beneath his robes. He squirmed at the thought.

The silence grew quite uncomfortable as he waited patiently for Harry to say something. It was up to him to continue or dismiss the apology. Draco's mind wandered as he waited, and he noted little things – like the way that Harry looked as if he had literally just jumped straight out of bed. He knew for a fact that he must have at least had a change of clothing. As much as he tried to stop thinking about the previous evening, he found he could not. His eyes followed a line that led him to unconsciously stare directly at Harry's crotch.

Shaking himself out of his daydreams, Draco looked up to see a shadow of confusion in Harry's face.

--oo0oo--

Sweet Merlin, he doesn't know! He's only talking about last night. Through his overwhelming confusion, Harry had somehow managed to absorb Draco's words. There had been no carefully crafted excuse, no self-serving explanation for stringing him along all these months. Have I pegged him all wrong?

Merlin, this is Luc! I've been writing to Draco all these months. Is it possible he is completely unaware? He'd expected gloating, laughter, anything but utter innocence on the matter. Maybe he's still building up to it. For one brief moment he wanted to speak out – to admit to Draco that he was Flash. Just as he opened his mouth, a sense of self-preservation took over and he stopped. Would it really help right now to tell Draco that he was Flash? What exactly would it accomplish? As his brain finally caught up to his ears, he realised exactly why Draco was apologising. It stopped him thoroughly in his tracks.

"You're apologising to me?" Harry whispered quietly, not quite up to making completely coherent sentences. But if he's Luc, then I must be Mr Burning Hatred – Merlin, he's been trying to apologise to me for weeks – and I've been encouraging him! Harry was still befuddled by it all – he wasn't quite sure he was coping with the fact that Draco was Luc. But the part of his brain that wasn't addled by alcohol and potions was momentarily pleased by the fact that Draco had not been pretending to be Luc – that he seemed just as oblivious as Harry.

In some strange way, Luc was still real, even though he could not help the nagging doubt in the back of his mind. But could this still be some very clever Slytherin ploy to drag out my utter and complete humiliation? How can I be completely sure? Dare I tell him? Dare I show him my journal?

"Look," Draco broke the uncomfortable silence as he leaned over the table to talk quietly to Harry. "I don't know if you're looking for apologies or recriminations about last night, but... well, we both enjoyed too much alcohol, that much was certain. Of course, I think we'll both agree that being consenting red-blooded males, we managed to let off some steam in a mutually acceptable fashion." Draco seemed very blunt and honest (a little too much so) as he continued, "Despite that, I owed you an apology for my misconception of you and I had promised myself I would deliver that apology."

So he was apologising, not for pretending to be Luc, or for the previous evening's activities – the hard shag against the wall that was so hot yet so sublime that he wanted to do it all again. Malfoy said that? Sweet Merlin. Harry finally found his voice and managed to stammer out a response. "I understand. Last night was..." Sublime, brilliant, over too quickly... Harry stopped his errant thoughts but did not finish his sentence. "Misconceptions are understandable. We were kids then. I didn't know you, either."

He felt somewhat separated, as if he were watching himself have this conversation while the rest of him was panicking over the revelation that had pulled the world out from under him. Suddenly, his last words really hit home with a weight and reality that he hadn't imagined. "I really didn't know you at all." He was muttering, barely aware that he'd really spoken aloud. His mind was flooded with disconnected thoughts of that day in London when Arthur Weasley announced his new position, the flashes of green that had haunted him; his dreams of the Hogwarts pitch and chasing false snitches all over hell and gone only to find the real one falling into his hands. The heady scent of Draco's cologne seeped into Harry's consciousness and forced dozens of realisations to the fore faster than he could register them.

It was all too much, and Harry stood up quickly. "I have to go," he mumbled in Draco's general direction. He headed straight for the door, not noticing Draco's concerned look, and not even realising that he bumped directly into Remus as he bolted out of the store.

"Harry? HARRY!" Remus yelled out the door, but Harry was running away too fast to hear him.

--oo0oo--

Remus could not understand Harry's urgency as he turned to watch his friend flee in haste. Had there been some emergency with the Neo Death Eaters? Judging by the crowds still enjoying a leisurely lunch, he doubted that was the case. He spotted a familiar blond head and noticed Draco was also staring pointedly at Harry's retreating form with a concerned look.

Draco spotted Remus, and nodded in acknowledgement. As he made his way across the room, he stopped at an empty table by the window. Whatever caused Harry to leave so urgently had made him forget his knapsack. As Remus bent down to retrieve it, he noticed Harry's journal wide open on the table, an eagle feather quill crushed on the floor and an untippable bottle of violet ink perched precariously on the edge of the table.

Remus frowned. How could Harry forget something like this? He was even more concerned that something dire had happened. How could he leave it behind? The journal always came before everything else when Remus was looking after it. He quickly gathered Harry's belongings, and as he was about to close the journal, his eyes landed on Harry's distinctly handwritten words at the top of the page.

So you are saying you had drunken sex in a toilet last night with someone you can't stand?

His eyes bulged for a moment in surprise and he was involuntarily drawn in to read the rest of the page. He felt exceedingly guilty for doing so, but a familiar but long forgotten tug of magic made him realise that he was not fully in control of his actions. He read Draco's complete confession and he could begin to see the reason for Harry's distress. Had he realised that he was now talking to Draco? As he glanced over at Draco, he wondered if the blond also knew.

Remus knew there was only one way to find out. The blond was sitting at the table under the back window with his own journal open, an air of anticipation firmly showing on his face. He didn't seem quite as distressed as Harry.

Harry knows! But Draco seems oblivious. Sweet Merlin, I wish I could have been there last night, if only to see what could have led them into such a state of affairs. They had sex? All these thoughts ran through his head as he casually chatted with Draco.

"Harry seemed to be in an awful hurry," Remus indicated toward the door as he sat down opposite Draco. The chair still felt warm and Remus could sense the smell of confusion and hurt in the air.

Draco's face paled with guilt, even though he showed concern for Harry. "Draco?" Remus frowned. "What have you done?"

Rather than get all uptight at Remus' accusation, Draco thought long and sighed deeply. "Let's just say that I might have dawdled too long, Remus, and left my words too late."

Remus nodded in understanding. "You apologised?"

"Mmmm, but he's not taken it all that well. Having said that, of course, there were some mitigating circumstances." Draco had the decency to blush in embarrassment. Having just read Harry's journal, he had a rather vivid idea of what had happened at the end of the party, but he was not going to stop Draco from explaining himself.

Draco seriously contemplated saying anything to Remus, but remembered that Remus had offered a friendly ear.

"Draco, you can talk to me, you know. I'm not going to bite. This morning, anyway." Remus sat as Draco offered the other chair.

"How was your moon, Remus?" Draco saw an opportunity to divert the conversation.

Remus expertly waved his diversion away. "It was blessedly uneventful, thanks to you, but I'll give you all the details tomorrow." He cut off Draco's line of questioning. It seemed that once you got Draco talking about Wolfsbane, he would never give up. Remus wanted to talk about other things – specific things.

He changed the subject yet again. "You mentioned mitigating circumstances with Harry?" Remus tried to sound curious, despite knowing the outcome.

Draco blushed and looked exceedingly unsure if he should say anything. "I don't know, Remus." He dragged a hand through his hair. "Things may have got a little out of hand. I'm still trying to come to terms with it all myself." His embarrassment was evident, and Remus nodded knowingly, not pushing for any further questions. But you'll confide in your anonymous friend, won't you? Remus thought. Oh Draco, no wonder Harry raced out of here. Not only was he coping with what you both got up to last night, now he discovers that he's been writing to you. I have to go and find him!

"Sounds like I missed one raunchy party then," Remus offered in polite understanding.

Draco's eyebrows raised and he adjusted the collar on his shirt before swallowing. "You can only begin to imagine," he murmured. "Still, in Harry's defence, he did try to drink every last drop of absinthe on offer. I probably wasn't far behind on the firewhisky either."

Remus seemed a little surprised. From what he knew, Harry rarely drank anything that exotic. "Well then, I guess he must be due for some Sobrietus charms."

"I asked Dobby to give him one of my Sobrietus potions this morning. It was the least I could do after last night..." Remus could see Draco's own confusion over his feelings toward Harry. He had apologised, for what it was worth. At least he was trying to help, even if they were both coming to grips with a relationship that was speeding very fast to a rather explosive conclusion.

Remus assessed Draco's body language as he sipped his coffee, but he was fairly certain Draco had no idea of Harry's corresponding identity. Draco seemed somewhat distracted by the closed journal beside him, and Remus sought an outlet. "So, I see you've been writing to your friend? How is he?"

Draco looked back at the journal and Remus remembered the feeling that was now showing plainly on Draco's face. That look of hopeful longing that came whenever he thought about Sirius. "Oh, I think he's fine. We were chatting when Harry interrupted me. I tried to resume our conversation, but he hasn't responded." Draco put a hand on the journal, willing it to open up with more of Flash's comforting words.

It was then that Remus was absolutely certain that Draco had no idea to whom he was writing. He was even more certain now for the reason behind Harry's speedy exit. He needed to find him and talk him through this situation. If he knew Harry half as well as he thought, then he would likely be trying to bottle his feelings up until they burst. He didn't want to let that happen.

He chatted briefly with Draco as he tried to hurriedly finish his coffee. Seeing Emmaline's all-knowing gaze land in their direction, he made his excuses to Draco and went to talk to her.

"Leaving so soon, Remus?" she asked petulantly. "You've only had one coffee this morning. Surely I could tempt you with one of my apple almond tartlets, hmmm?"

"Sorry, Emmaline, but I can't stay. One of my dear friends has had a revelation. Something that he needs to talk about – to a friend."

"But surely he should be telling those sorts of things to a correspondent? Much easier to write things down, don't you think?" Her air of mystery belied the fact she knew exactly what had gone on. For a moment he wondered if she had anything to do with it.

She must have been a Legilimens, for she defended the unspoken accusation. "Oh no, my dear, I wouldn't dare interfere with the natural order of things. If 'Arry has learned the truth, then he has finally admitted his feelings to himself." She gave Remus a supportive pat on the shoulder. "Go easy on him, Remus. He needs someone to explain it to him. You know he's always needed guidance. Tell him why it has to be this way." Remus looked at her in surprise. Despite his suspicions that she was involved, it was still a surprise to see how well she knew people. Did the cunning old witch know everything?

"But Draco..." he started.

Emmaline hushed him up as she walked him towards the door. "But Draco nothing. It's 'Arry that you need to worry about right now, môn chéri." Emmaline's knowing smile irked Remus, as did the twinkle in her eye. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn she was Albus in disguise.

--oo0oo--

Draco was left somewhat bereft and bewildered as he drained the dregs of his coffee. He had apologised to Harry, yet he felt no better for having done so. He had not expected such a reaction from his former nemesis. Where were the explosive fireworks and harsh words? Even they would have been more comfortable than this feeling.

He really wanted to talk to Flash, but even he seemed to have abandoned him. He added a few more words to his journal in the hope of prompting Flash to write back. He could only hazard a guess that he had stepped away from his journal for a while.

Well I wasn't as long as I suspected, but it's done. I've apologised, but I honestly don't know how he's taken it. He ran off in a tearing hurry. I don't blame him. I can only hope my apology wasn't what sent him away. He doesn't look terribly well – mind you, he did drink more Absinthe last night than any wizard should be able to handle. But I'm not making excuses. Somehow, I don't think that my apology was sufficient. Another friend just joined me for a bit as well. I'm beginning to think that this whole idea of writing in a public place was a bad idea. I'm going to keep firmly to my rooms next time we write. I think I'm going to have to do a lot more to really make up for my years of rotten behaviour towards him. You know, I thought making amends and apologising would help me to get over this new fascination with him, but the crazy thing is that after last night, I seem to have raised my level of obsession. I've just realised the apologising isn't where it ends, it's only the start. I've now got to prove that I meant what I said.

His concern for his friend heightened as no reply came in the journal – not even a quickly scrawled apology. For just a moment he realised how Flash might have read his words. Could he be pissed off or jealous? He says he loves me. I really am an insensitive prick sometimes. Way to go, Malfoy.

Are you around, Flash? Ah, well, I guess you've been sidetracked. That's okay - I did intimate that I was going to be tied up for a while. I'm really sorry I didn't get to hear about your night. You seem like you needed to talk to someone, and as usual, I've taken over the conversation - I have a real knack for that. I only hope you'll tell me later – that's if you haven't already worked through it.

His shoulders slumped as he realised that he really should have been more sensitive in what he had written earlier on the page. No doubt my admission of what I did with Harry has upset him - after all, he has told me he loves me. Sometimes he hated the way in which his journal just drew the words straight out of his quill with little or no censorship.

At least I've apologised to Harry. He seemed so distraught. I really should try to talk to him later when he's fully sober. Draco rubbed his temples. Still, I'm just as bad. He had really drunk more firewhisky than he thought was possible and two doses of Sobrietus were still not enough to quell the dull headache throbbing away in the back of his head. It almost seemed that the pounding in his head was directly connected to the constantly replaying memories from the lavatory with Harry.

It had been unexpected. Tantalising, invigorating and new, yet thoroughly unexpected. Draco was still trying to wrap his head around the realisation that it had actually happened and that he was no longer dreaming. Well, at least now he had a better frame of reference in which to dream.

"Môn chéri. Why the long face? You look like you've lost a niffler and found an empty purse." Emmaline seemed to have a divinatory sense that told her when her customers needed another cup of coffee, for she had another steaming cup in front of Draco just before he realised he was still craving caffeine. Indeed, she followed that up with a plate of Draco's favourite petit fours - delicate choux pastry balls filled with custard and drizzled with caramel and chocolate.

"Ah, Petite mère, why is it you always know just what my heart desires?" Draco put on his best smile and gave her a warm hug.

"Probably because you don't know yourself. Don't worry, môn chéri. You'll work it out soon enough. Have a little faith in yourself." She walked off quickly, the seemingly random words of wisdom sounding even more cryptic than her usual advice. Even so, he wondered why it seemed like it was exactly what he needed to hear.

--oo0oo--

Remus didn't have to look far to find Harry. The maddening blur that wove frantically over the Quidditch pitch moved in a pattern that Remus remembered well. James had been the same when he was angry or overwhelmed with startling news. He could remember a day where his dear old friend spent over 12 hours on his broom - fuming over something that Lily had done. The details were now foggy, but Remus remembered the outcome just the same. James had often said that flying made all the worries of the world lighten, and he could think with more clarity. He even once asked to be able to take all his exams from the back of his broom as being on the ground was an impediment to his exam performance.

Some traits of the parents often rub off on the children, and it was no different in Harry's case. He had the best and worst of his parents. Like his father, he needed a physical outlet for his frustration. Like his mother, he wore his heart on his sleeve, and gave in to it all too often. Harry had had more emotional upheaval in his short life than anyone Remus knew. Right now as he was coming to terms with a startling revelation, he was flying like a man possessed – or a man who had nothing to lose. Remus was a little worried when he lost sight of Harry, and he raced even more quickly up the hill to the pitch. He was surprised at his own burst of strength – he was not usually so active the day after the moon, but he was not thinking of such things now. He stepped back and rested easily when he caught a glimpse of Harry sitting high in one of the viewing boxes.

"Harry..." Remus ventured as he walked up behind the slumped figure up in the stands. Harry didn't reply.

He put a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder as he sat down next to him. "Harry..." Remus suddenly realised he didn't quite know how to start the conversation, but remembered the journal. "... You left in such a hurry, you forgot this." He offered the journal to his young friend, but Harry gazed absently at a spot on the distant horizon.

"Burn it, Remus." Harry glanced at it menacingly for a moment, as if it were poisonous.

"Harry, what's happened? This isn't like you. You seemed so happy last night. What could have gone so terribly wrong?"

Harry laughed mockingly, but didn't reply immediately. Remus didn't push him and let him answer in his own time. Harry eventually realised Remus was still there and finally answered. "Oh, nothing, really. Just everything has gone arse up, and I'm such an unbelievable fool."

"Why don't you start from the beginning, Harry. You looked as if you saw a ghost when you ran out of Emmaline's, and then I saw you had been writing to Draco..." Remus halted as he realised his own mistake. Harry also noticed the slip and he looked directly at him. Remus could see the horrified disappointment in his eyes. Harry was never one for hiding his feelings, and those eyes were always so expressive.

Remus could see that Harry was trying to stay calm, but the fury was quelled deep below the surface. "How long have you known?" he snapped. He moved quickly and pulled Remus up by the lapels, shouting furiously. "HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN? IS THIS SOME SORT OF JOKE?" Remus did not fail to notice the sudden gust of wind and power that rose up around the tower as Harry's anger flared.

"Harry, calm down. I fear I do owe you an explanation."

Harry's nostrils were still flaring in anger, but he suddenly realised his own lack of control and looked around to see where he was and what he was doing. Remus suspected he might flee, but Harry only pushed Remus away gently, and would no longer return his gaze. "Too bloody right you do. Well, go on. I'm listening. This had better be good."

"Harry, please don't be childish about this. There is a perfectly logical explanation." Remus sat down and picked up Sirius' – Harry's journal. "When I first saw you writing in this, I immediately recognised it. Sirius wrote in it practically every day to talk with his soul mate. His soul mate had his own journal that he used to reply."

Harry's arms were folded and he was still pouting petulantly as he refused to meet Remus' eye. "You've already told me you were Sirius' soul mate."

"Aye, that's right. I am – I was..." Remus pushed away his own painful memories. This was about Harry and Draco now. "I lost my journal many years ago when I was in Paris. Actually, I didn't lose it; I somehow mixed it up with some books I left with Emmaline. At the time, I wasn't sorry to see the back of it." Harry seemed a little surprised by that admission. "It was during that period after Sirius went to Azkaban, and my feelings were... well, you could only begin to imagine how painful it was thinking that the one you loved had killed and betrayed two of your best friends."

Harry didn't say anything in reply, but pulled his knees up to his chest as he sat back on the bench, rocking back and forth thoughtfully. Remus continued. "I saw you writing in the journal not long before you made a pass at me, Harry. That's why I knew that I couldn't start a relationship with you – at least not in good faith. There was another man out there who I knew was going to make you much happier than I ever could. Harry, I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

"What about Draco? How long have you known that I've been making a complete fool of myself in front of him?" Harry scoffed. "He's probably laughing right now." He hugged his knees back to his chest and looked away thoughtfully. "Why did I pour my heart and soul out into that bloody book? Why was I compelled to say what I did? Of all the wizards in this world, why did I end up talking to Draco?" Harry suddenly remembered he was talking to Remus and his eyes narrowed somewhat. "How... when did you find out that Draco was writing in the other journal? Why didn't you say something – anything?"

"I wanted to Harry, but Emmaline forbade it." Harry looked sceptical. "Oh if you really want to lay the blame on anyone, then it definitely should be her - she seems to have all the answers. All I know is that somehow that book landed in Draco's lap when he was living above Emmaline's store in Paris. Believe me, when I saw him writing to you just a couple of weeks ago, I was just as shocked as you are..."

Harry interrupted. "You could have said something. You know how I feel... felt about him."

"Would it have made a difference? I doubt your reaction would have been any less volatile. There's a reason for everything Harry, and with magic, it's not always immediately apparent. It's dangerous to interfere with the ancient magics. You can't lie in the journals and nobody can interfere with their purpose. You were always going to find out the truth when the time was right. Somehow, right now, your journal lifted the enchantments and decided it was time that you realised the truth of Draco's identity."

"But Remus, it's just a journal. How could it..."

Remus ventured a small smile. "This pair of journals is a powerful magical artefact, Harry. You have to stop thinking like a Muggle sometimes. They come from a very old magic – something that very few can explain, or even understand. Emmaline knows more than she is letting on. That woman is... an enigma."

"What right... who is she... how dare she interfere!" Harry wasn't really sure who he was angry with, but Remus was going to let him vent his anger. "How could someone make something like that," he pointed to the journal, "and give me a false sense of security? It's bloody Tom Riddle all over again! I thought I was just talking to a stranger!" Harry was furious again. "Just... just get rid of it, Remus."

"If I thought it would help you, I would." He could see Harry's stubborn streak coming to the fore, and he tried a different tactic. "The journals have been bringing soul mates together for centuries. Possibly even longer. Your parents came together because of these books, Harry. I think what they do is identify two soul mates who are in danger of passing by, and then they somehow target their magic. Artefacts like this are never wrong, Harry. Draco is truly your soul mate."

Harry shuddered at the thought and buried his head in his hands. He sat quietly like that for a long time, seemingly wavering between anguish and resignation. Eventually he spoke. "Why now? I don't understand. If I know, then why doesn't Draco? He still seems oblivious. Surely he has a right to know..."

"No, Harry – you must not say anything to him." Remus said emphatically. "I've seen how you've been slowly changing your opinion over the past few weeks. You've had a major shift in how you perceive Draco Malfoy. Along the way you've discovered that you don't hate him as much as you would like to. I can only guess that something else might have happened that changed your opinion..." Harry gave him a frowning glare and then blushed deeply. Remus feigned ignorance and continued. "You finally worked out how you felt about Draco, so the journals obliged and showed you that you were ready to face the truth. I can only assume that Draco must still have some things to work out before he is ready to hear the truth. Tell him now, and you risk unknown repercussions and at worst you could both end up living out your lives as bitter lonely old men."

"I don't know if I really comprehend it all, Remus. Draco Malfoy is my soul mate? It's ludicrous."

"Weren't you telling me just the other day how you felt about Luc? You seemed quite sure about him." Remus gently reminded Harry of his words just the previous day.

Harry just shook his head in disbelief and wrapped his hands around his knees in a protective gesture. "It's insane!"

"It's about as insane as Lily Evans and James Potter ever getting together, that's what, Harry."

"Surely not..."

"I have watched you and Draco snark and snarl at each other for the better part of the past decade. Your mother and father were almost the same. They fought constantly until their last year at school. Harry, you would not be here now if it weren't for those journals. Lily despised James. He was the antithesis of everything she believed in. He was rich, exceedingly cocky and from a background that was the complete opposite to her modest upbringing. You thought Lucius Malfoy was a snob – James was almost as bad. He had been known to throw the term 'Mudblood' around a time or two – that was until you mother slapped him into shape." Harry seemed quite thoughtful at this news. Remus didn't want to interrupt the moment.

Remus didn't know how long he sat quietly and waited, but he knew he had to be there for Harry. It seemed like hours later when Harry finally spoke. "I told Luc that I loved him, Remus. I had fallen in love with the man in the journal. How could I not know him? How do I know that is Draco's real persona?" Harry was shaking his head and still seemed thoroughly confused by what he had learned.

"What does your heart say, Harry? When you close your eyes and think about your friend Luc, what do you feel?" Harry did indeed close his eyes, and Remus saw him take a deep breath as he tried to calm and centre himself. Reluctantly, a small smile crossed his lips.

"The magic of the journals will make you see the other person by their words alone – without all the other baggage that exists. You must have been ready to accept that other person into your life, because it has chosen now to make you see that it is Draco. He's not as bad as you might think, Harry."

Harry seemed to take quite a while to answer, and Remus felt that he should probably let Harry alone again so he could absorb the rest of what he had said. Merlin knows, I could use a drink, Remus thought. He gently left the journal sitting atop Harry's knapsack as he got up to leave. "Perhaps you should go back and read through the journal thoroughly. Find out exactly what it is that made you fall in love with Luc. I know it's not much help, but it's the only suggestion I have at the moment."

"I'm sorry Remus. I'm sorry for turning on you before. My mind is still boggling at all of this. I don't honestly know what to think any more."

As he walked away, Remus noticed something different about Harry – something new. As Harry turned to look away, it struck Remus that since the previous day, Harry had lost the last vestiges of his childlike innocence and had finally become a man.

--oo0oo--

Harry eventually picked himself up from the Quidditch stands when he realised the foggy darkness surrounding him was actually nightfall. Returning to his rooms, he poured himself a generous cup of tea (despite his fervent desire for something stronger, he couldn't bear the thought of any more alcohol). He could still hear Remus' explanation for this latest mess in his life. By words alone. Harry had always surmised that there was more to the journal than met the eye. He just assumed from Ginny's assurances that his journal was harmless – merely a device to keep in contact over long distances.

Harry tried to relax he sat in his favourite chair, but the adrenalin still coursing through his system made it difficult to do so. The past 24 hours had been more than enlightening. His journal was sitting on the table, but he dared not to open it despite the fact his gaze kept turning in that direction. Eventually, he could ignore it no longer.

My soul mate is Luc. Luc is Draco. Draco is my soul mate? No matter which way he looked at it, it all came full circle. How in the four hells am I going to face him again with that knowledge? How will I be able to write to Luc knowing that? Draco and I are only just barely tolerating each other – well, when we're not drunk at parties, that is. A small part of Harry's mind was still trying to keep Draco and Luc separate. He was feeling completely foolish for having once again bared his heart and now it was too late to take it back.

By words alone. This wonderful wizard he had admitted his love for was actually Draco? This was not something that he could just accept at face value. Remus was right. He was going to need to reread the entire journal to be sure. It was difficult to convince himself to open the pages and reread those words again without the enchantments that had concealed the truth.

He tentatively touched the corner of the journal. He was surprised when a surge of warmth came up his arm and a feeling of contentment shot through him. The warm smile that crossed his face suddenly darkened and he jerked his arm away quickly when he realised what was happening.

Why haven't I noticed this before? The bloody journal has been manipulating my feelings! The book just sat there, seemingly innocent and inanimate as it silently dared him to try ignoring it. Harry's insatiable curiosity overcame self-preservation and he quickly flipped open the pages. Somehow it knew Harry's mind, and instead of opening at the page of the last entry, it opened at the very first page.

Even with a hefty dose of scepticism, the tense set of his shoulders was soon gone, and the briefest of smiles on his face soon turned into a full blooming grin as he began to read. His eyes did not leave the page until hours later, when the embers of the dying firelight winked out whilst he finished reading Draco's last words.

Sitting back in his chair, he finally admitted he was too tired to draw any more conclusions. Rereading Luc's words had reignited the spark of inner warmth that had burned out earlier in the day at the discovery of the truth.

It's so bleeding obvious. How did I not see that I was writing to Draco months ago? I admit that I would never have imagined some of those things about him, but that is truly Draco. He's always worn some mask and this journal has allowed him to be himself. This man has to be the real Draco Malfoy. I would never have imagined it. How much of that would I have seen had I accepted his hand of friendship all those years ago? How different would both our lives be without the war?

It felt awkward reading about himself – painful at times even, but he could not help but feel lighter in spirit when he read Draco's sudden change in feelings towards Harry. He's been trying to apologise to me all this time? When he reached that day's entry, he had to stop and read it very carefully.

...and all I could think about was wanting to do that again. With him.

Harry closed his eyes. Despite his inebriation, he vividly remembered what had happened in the lavatory with Draco. It had been quick and hot and Harry remembered that he felt so good afterward; he couldn't let Draco go without reciprocating in kind. Draco wants to do that again – with me? He blinked owlishly into the newly stoked fire. Is it possible? Could he possibly consider something a little more permanent with me? His despair was replaced with a seed of hope as he realised that he had a chance to share something with Draco.

But what do I tell him? Do I tell him that Flash and Harry are the same? Remus' voice came to him clearly telling him that it would be a very bad idea to do so. Something else also nagged at the back of his mind – that sense of doubt that always dogged him just when he thought things were going to be perfect. How do I honestly know that he doesn't know? Am I sure that he's not playing me for a fool? He has always been too good an actor. How do I really know that he has been innocently writing as Luc? It could still all be just some game. I need to know the truth!

His head was swimming from it all. It was well into Monday morning and he could not remember eating at all. The Sobrietus had taken the edge from his hangover, but he still felt a little woozy from the alcohol. He was suddenly overcome with weariness, and he knew he needed to sleep before he could think about anything rationally. He did feel a little guilty that he left Luc hanging without any response, but a tiny amount of guilt crept into his conscience.

A quill was in his hand before he had time to think, and he had already written two sentences before he regained control of his hand.

I am sorry I never got back to you, Luc. After you said you were going, I got completely distracted and it is only now I get a chance to see that you wrote further. I am so happy that you finally apologised to him...

He frowned for just a second. I thought the journal couldn't lie. Thank Merlin I wrote 'Luc' instead of 'Draco'. I wonder why that is? I am going to have to be extra careful now that I know who 'Luc' is.

Harry was still none the wiser as to what had made Draco have such a change of heart about him, but he could not doubt that Draco's apology had made him feel good. As he consciously thought of Draco and not Luc, his hand began to shake and he could feel the sweat breaking out on his brow. This was going to be harder than he thought.

I do have to go again, but I am sorry for rushing off...

Which is true. I'm not lying. I regret rushing off, Draco, but I have to sort through this in my own way. A half-formed thought had finally come together in Harry's mind after reading, and he smiled and nodded at himself as he added one last comment.

I will, however, be taking you up on your offer of asking a question the next time we talk. There is something important I need to ask. Take care,
Flash

Ahh, that was really hard. Harry's arm ached now that he had put down the quill. How am I going to be able to write honestly to Luc knowing who he really is? He closed the journal, having warmed somewhat to the idea that Luc and Draco were one and the same. He still wasn't completely convinced of Draco's complete ignorance of the truth, but if he passed Harry's little test, then he knew everything would be fine. Until then, he would keep his distance from Draco and try to not let his thoughts consume him too much. For now he would sit back and meditate and try to come to terms with everything. He was not allowed the luxury of denial, for he knew it to be true. For now he would live with the small thread of hope. Everything else could wait.

--oo0oo--

June 16 - Monday

Draco was enjoying his morning coffee as he gazed out the window. Looking back into his room, he shook his head at the fact that the castle could still surprise him after so long. Some time during the night, the room had expanded and a small kitchenette complete with dumbwaiter now adorned the far wall. He vaguely remembered Severus saying something about the castle adapting to accommodate to his needs during the holidays. He had absently been wondering how he would get his meals now that formal dining in the Great Hall was over for the summer. He fancied neither a long trek to the kitchens, nor a constant stream of house elves delivering meals.

He was actually quite pleased about this new addition. He missed having somewhere to prepare a few simple meals, and he made plans to head down to the village to gather some fresh food to tide him over. He was already praising Dobby's forethought, as there was coffee waiting for him. In fact it was the smell of a freshly prepared pot that had awoken him that morning. How his father could have ever managed to lose such a resourceful elf, he could only begin to imagine.

The castle seemed devoid of liveliness now that it was nearly empty. Still gazing out the window, he realised that part of this strange lack of routine had quite a bit to do with the fact that Harry was not in the courtyard. It was the usual time for the new Defence apprentice to be out there doing his morning forms, but Draco frowned when he realised that he was actually missing Harry's presence.

Surely he should not be feeling this way – after all, Saturday night had been a major turning point in their... relationship. Apologising to him had not helped either. If he thought either of those actions would have helped get his obsessive thoughts about Harry out of his system, he could not have been more wrong.

If Draco thought that sharing intimacy would make him stop dreaming about Harry, then he had been mistaken. His dreams seemed even more vivid than ever before. If anything, he could have sworn that Jean-Paul was fading from the dream, only to be replaced by more of that mess of dark hair and those green eyes. Of course, now that he knew exactly what made Harry moan, he could vividly hear the hitch of Harry's breath and feel those hands on his body. It was all too real.

He shook the image from his head. It was more than an obsession to be still thinking about it. He had to stop thinking about it. He almost didn't hear the impatient knock at the door.

Severus entered, looking somewhat harried and flustered. He was wearing his travelling robes, and Draco raised an eyebrow as he headed straight over to Melchett's owl perch and began to stare at Draco's oldest pet. He was worried when Severus pulled his wand and pointed at the bird.

"What on earth..." he began, but Severus held up a finger to stop him. He continued to stare down at the cantankerous old owl until he hooted indignantly and ruffled his feathers. Seemingly satisfied, Severus stood up straight and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Draco. Nobody, and I mean nobody is to know where I am going for the summer."

"I can be discreet, Severus," he said indignantly. Draco felt somewhat put out by his friend's secrecy.

Severus nodded, "I know you are, but it's Dumbledore I don't trust. I have no idea why he let Weasley onto the staff, but I will not have the lovelorn fool of a boy think that he can chase me from one end of the continent to the other!" Severus sounded quite exasperated.

Draco could not help but snicker as he realised the source of Severus' displeasure. "I must have missed something yesterday." Severus didn't seem amused by Draco's casual comment. "Oh Severus, what harm could come of it?"

"Harm? Harm? Draco, this boy thinks himself in love with me. He's apparently held a torch since his school days."

"He came through Hogwarts a few years behind you, Severus. I'd hardly call him a boy. He looks... quite fit, actually." Seeing Severus so flustered by the advances of Charlie Weasley was terribly amusing. Severus deserved and needed some happiness in life, and Draco suspected that this Weasley might just be up to the challenge of keeping Severus from getting old before his time. He didn't fail to notice that Severus had not once mentioned his own feelings towards Weasley. It was an omission that most people would have missed. Draco could only begin to speculate that there was more to this possible liaison than Severus was letting on. It would seem he had a whole summer to come up with the most wild and outlandish speculations of all. Severus would be most amused when he returned.

"Well if he's so fit, why don't you distract him over the summer, Draco?" Severus snarked back, mistaking the reason behind Draco's smirk.

"Oh, no, no, no. I could do no such thing. Just what were you doing to my owl, anyway?" he asked curiously.

"Well he needs to know where I am so that you can write to me. I have every intention of keeping to myself this summer, Draco, but I will understand if you need me back here before the last week in August. I trust you have everything under control?"

Draco gave him a glare that showed he was not impressed at the doubt expressed in his ability to look after the lab during the summer holidays. There was extremely little he needed to do. He would need to help Pomfrey in August to help stock up the Infirmary's medical potions, and he would assist Pomona Sprout during the summer in harvesting a number of the school's private herb stocks. In between that, he only needed to pick up the ordered supplies as they came in, and brew up anything required by those staying behind. The rest of the summer was his to work on his research. That gave him ample opportunity to work on improving Remus' Wolfsbane.

Unless you have a pressing need to brew something of a more... personal nature. That damn voice was back in his head and he just knew it wasn't going to go away in a hurry.

"So Severus, are you actually planning on relaxing this summer? You do realise that is the sole purpose of a holiday, don't you?"

"Cheeky monkey. I have every intention of relaxing. Why do you think I am taking such precautions to avoid the likes of Dumbledore? For once I plan on doing what I want. I will need the solitude to psyche myself up for another year of those imbeciles. It will be bad enough keeping them under my thumb without Weasley following me around like a lost puppy." Severus sounded dreadfully weary. Draco thought it was great that Severus was going away, but hoped he wasn't going to hole himself up in some damp and remote moor.

Draco knew that Severus craved his solitude, but he sensed that it was more out of habit than because he really wanted to be alone. He really needed to get involved in something that had plenty of social interaction. Draco wanted to make a suggestion when Severus looked at his fob watch and tsked.

"I have to go. You will be all right?" he asked in genuine concern.

Draco slapped him on the shoulder. "Get out of here you greasy git. Go and enjoy yourself for once in your life – if you can remember how." Severus' dark glare could not hide the quirk of a smile rose that rose in the corner of his mouth. Draco watched as he headed down the stairs back to his own dungeon rooms. Draco could not resist one final jibe.

"Don't brew anything I wouldn't brew!" He shouted joyfully.

"Cheeky monkey!" He heard Severus' retort just as he was closing his door. Seeing Severus gone, he looked around his humble rooms, feeling somewhat more at leisure than normal. It definitely felt like it was the holidays, even if he still had responsibilities. If he were younger and less resourceful, he would probably be feeling bored by now, but with one eye on his day robes, and another on the half read novel on the bedside cabinet, he ventured out of doors to enjoy the sunshine.

--oo0oo--

Harry slept in late on Monday morning, his dreams a confused bundle of images that were both intimate and somewhat nightmarish. He checked his scar, but felt no tenderness. He had been so tired that he had forgotten to clear his mind before sleep, but he admitted that the nightmarish dreams had not featured death and dark magic; rather they involved one very, very confusing blond who alternately was the most annoying and devious prat Harry had ever met, and the most heart-warming and intimately trusting friend he could ever hope for.

He immediately remembered why he was so conflicted, and knew that he still needed some time to reconcile the fact that Draco and Luc were the same man. He attempted to distract himself immediately from that thought, and decided the new kitchenette that had appeared in his rooms would help in that regard. He remembered some announcement from the staff party about the adaptive facilities of the castle now that the summer was upon them. Harry had not imagined that this would be the result. The castle was still throwing surprises at him, and he renewed his joy at the fact he could now call the place home.

Harry was not going to let anything ruin his day, as he planned on cooking up a storm. Harry had most of the summer to plan his new job role, but after such an eventful weekend, he would need a few days to just relax and come to terms with things. He faltered for a moment about what he would do when he ran into Draco, but he decided that it was pointless to plan anything. Nature would just have to take its course if he bumped into him.

He succeeded in not seeing Draco at all on Monday. Determined to spend a day not thinking about him, or Luc, he found it nigh on impossible. Going about his business, he found himself unconsciously looking around for the blond. Still, it was a big castle and it was highly likely they could have missed each other.

Harry spent much of his day settling in to his room and deciding on best how to use his holiday time. He shared afternoon tea with Remus, but neither mentioned the events of the day before. Harry could see the unasked questions in Remus' eyes, but he didn't volunteer any information. There was an uncomfortable barrier between them, and he really wasn't up for any more conversation about Draco or the journals. He was surprised to learn that Remus would be also going away for a couple of weeks. He was due to go back to the Ministry to yet again advise them of his werewolf status, and to spend some time working with Werewolf Support Services – a task that gave him great personal satisfaction. Being such a high profile werewolf helped him to give some hope to other werewolves as he counselled them. The war had left a stinging legacy and the number of innocent victims of the war was exceedingly high. He wasn't planning to be back until later in the month for his Wolfsbane and transformation, but he promised that he was only a Floo call away if Harry needed him.

Harry was still a little annoyed that Remus had known the truth, but he tried to let go of the grudge. Lao Kuai had always spoken about the disharmony of negative emotions and the positive energy of forgiveness. He needed to live by that credo.

Just as he was leaving, Remus turned and made a suggestion, "I know you probably don't need to hear this, but try not to brood for too long. Perhaps you should talk to Emmaline if you feel the need to open up to anyone. She might give you a fresh perspective on things. But then again, that probably isn't the best idea - you're likely to end up with more questions than answers."

Harry filed that suggestion away for future consideration, but it was delayed a bit longer than necessary when he bumped into Charlie for the first time since the party. He'd been on his way to the Quidditch pitch in the hopes that another flying session would help to clear his head, when he almost literally ran over the new Care of Magical Creatures professor. "Oh, erm, Charlie…" Harry suddenly found himself feeling incredibly embarrassed as he remembered his behaviour from the weekend. He fidgeted with his broom and finally ran his fingers through his hair before shoving his hand deep in the pocket of his jeans. He was so nervous as he tried to force out an awkward apology that he completely missed Charlie's grin at the familiar mannerisms. Everyone who'd known Harry long had learned his typical nervous habits despite the fact Harry himself seemed oblivious to them.

"I wanted to, er, well that is, I need to say," Harry was more than a little nervous about this. He knew he had been a complete arse to Charlie at the staff party, and needed to apologise, lest he end up alienating the whole Weasley clan. "Er, sorry about being such a pillock at the party the other night."

Charlie, of course, would hear none of it and quickly brushed it off as insignificant. "Hey, don't worry about it. I have no idea how much absinthe you were drinking, but I'm surprised you were still standing by the end of the night," Charlie remarked gleefully.

That's what Draco said too, Harry thought. He turned the conversation around to Charlie's activities from the party. "Why are you so still so bloody chipper? I hear that your advances have made Snape flee the castle for the first holiday he's had in decades!"

"Oh I'm not worried about that," Charlie offered in reply. "Severus is worth every moment of my time, even if he takes years. Taming dragons can take decades, especially if you get one of the older, wilder ones. I said I wanted a new challenge. I think Severus Snape will fit the bill nicely. Of course, the final results will be well worth every minute." Harry could see Charlie mentally strategising plans to get the greasy old git into the sack. He just shook his head in disbelief, but would not begrudge him. After all, he was the one who had Draco sodding Malfoy for a soul mate.

They managed to both kill some time with a rather fast and furious one-on-one Quidditch game, and by the time that was done, he was famished. He offered to cook dinner for Charlie, and the friends managed to spend an enjoyable evening with good food and a decent bottle of wine. By the end of the evening, Harry realised that he was now over his crush on Charlie, and now that it was gone, he was glad for the friendship from yet another of the Weasleys. They were a fine and loyal family and Harry was proud to know them.

By Tuesday, Harry managed to bring some semblance of routine back to his day by returning to his morning forms and meditations. He wasn't sure if he was pleased or upset that Draco had stopped coming down in the mornings for a cigarette as he completed his T'ai Chi, but he could sense that he was still being watched and wondered if it was Draco. Wednesday morning, as he worked on a slow turn, he noticed that Draco was indeed still watching him from the window of his room. He could not help but smile surreptitiously, but wasn't sure whether it was because Draco was still around, or because of the sudden mental image from yet another of his intense and erotic dreams. Whatever it was, it helped him to attain his centre just that little bit more quickly.

This was the only time he spotted Draco during the days that followed. It was a strategic choice on his part to retreat and do his best to avoid Draco whilst he came to terms with everything, but Harry began to wonder if Draco was consciously doing the same, or if they were just coincidentally missing each other in their daily routines. Strangely, the longer this went on, the more he found himself missing Draco's company.

He knew that eventually they would have to talk again, face to face, but he would worry about that when the time came. He still had a very important question to ask Luc, and he realised that he wanted to avoid Draco. Once he had his answer, then he would know exactly what to do.

--oo0oo--

The new kitchen was a source of constant joy for Harry. Cooking was an outlet he had always enjoyed once he was free of the Dursley's kitchen. He had asked Pomona Sprout for a corner of the staff greenhouse, and was thrilled to have an area to work on his own herb garden. His last one had actually been shared with Priscilla and Walt back in Somerset, and it felt good to be able to magically encourage his herbs to grow without anyone getting suspicious.

He had already planned an entire year's worth of meals, and after inviting Albus down for an evening meal, was chuffed to learn that he could keep the kitchen when school returned. The headmaster was actually forthcoming – for once – with some ideas Harry could use to personalise his rooms at Hogwarts any way he chose. It was quite surprising to learn that the Headmaster's office actually once started out as a room the same as his. The longer Dumbledore had remained in the castle, and the more his needs grew, the rooms expanded and changed. Before he knew it, his room had moved into the top tower upon his ascension to the headmaster's position.

Harry could only guess that it was similar to the Room of Requirement's magic, only it worked on a much slower scale. The idea that his room would grow around him was comforting. As he looked around, he decided that he rather liked the idea of the castle adapting his rooms to his needs. This fuelled a thought, which he planned to test over the summer – something that could give him the best of both worlds. After all, he had every intention of living a long, full life. Living at Hogwarts just made it all that much easier for him to feel centred.

Unfortunately, as he fell asleep, he wondered whether or not the castle would suddenly sprout a door that led directly to Draco's room. As intriguing as that idea was, he really didn't feel up to explaining something like that if it were to suddenly appear.

--oo0oo--

Draco had decided that the Weasel was a bigger prat than he originally suspected. He made it an almost daily part of his routine to send another letter to London to enquire about the progress of his submission. He knew Ron had no intention of letting him access Malfoy Manor, but he refused to sit back and let the Weasel win without putting up a fight. Malfoys were not quitters. Never. If Weasley had an ounce of Slytherin sense, he would have turned Draco's offers to his own advantage. It was so easy to negotiate with someone when you knew they wanted something out of you. Weasley didn't want anything except satisfaction in denying Draco something he wanted. Foolish bloody Gryffindor.

Another letter to the Weasel at the bank was in store. Far be it from him to try and do anything that would risk his inheritance, Draco knew he had to grovel to Weasley and the FIGs. As much as he despised it, it was just another unpleasant task in a long line of unpleasant tasks he knew he would have to do.

Draco braced himself as he picked up the quill. It was becoming quite a chore, but he knew that if he didn't press the situation, Weasley would try to avoid the situation. With no answers to his previous letters, he tried, yet again, to word his request in such a way that would prove his sincerity.

Mr Ronald Weasley
Investigative Services Division
Gringott's Bank Re: The Holdings of Malfoy, Draco Lucien Darien Mr Weasley, I respectfully request admission to the potions lab situated underneath Malfoy Manor for the purpose of investigating any stores that may still be viable for use in my research. As mentioned before, I am in the midst of conducting several research projects, some of which may prove extremely helpful to the medi-wizardry field, in particular, Lycanthropy. Unfortunately, some ingredients are nearing extinction and therefore very difficult to come by. Abraxas Malfoy was known for his extensive laboratory and variety of rare ingredients, which leads me to believe that the Malfoy Manor potions stores may be a valuable asset to my research and the work of Potions Master Snape as well. Although Ministry Aurors investigated the Laboratory during their search for any of Lucius' dark artefacts, no complete inventory of the laboratory's stores was made. I am amenable to having a Ministry or Gringott's escort with me during this visit and will give my oath as a wizard that I am not intending to use anything in that Manor as a means of causing harm or aiding the Neo Death Eater movement. I can provide you with character references, should such a step be necessary. Please contact me at Hogwarts at your earliest convenience. Much of my medical research is on hold pending your response. Sincerely, Draco Lucien Darien Malfoy

It felt grating to abase himself in such a way in a letter to Ron Weasley. He was completely unsure of how his words were being taken, but the complete silence to his previous letters should have given it away. He neatly folded the parchment and sealed it with wax and his Malfoy signet ring. Melchett just blinked and rolled his eyes at the idea of yet another delivery to the bank. At least Draco knew he was doing everything he could.

The thought of some rare and extinct ingredients brought him back to his Grandpère's lab and the knowledge that it was always well stocked with rare and unique ingredients that were virtually impossible to find anywhere else. Surely if there are any Pegasus Wingtips to be found, they'll be there. The thought was rarely far from his mind.

Every day he would read and revise and double-check every possibility about the potion that would rid him of his cursed knee. He didn't need to reread the translation, for it was indelibly etched in his mind. Usually when he worked, his mind was almost completely focussed on the task at hand. Since coming into extremely close contact with Harry, he found that the slightest thing would turn his thoughts to the man.

Today it was the Jobberknoll feathers he was cutting up. The feathers were fine and soft, yet the black spines and hairs stuck out at all angles, making it dreadfully difficult to slice evenly, yet it seemed to behave in that completely unpredictable and unruly way that Harry's hair often did. Of course, this led him to think about Harry's habit of dragging his hand through his hair. He distinctly remembered Harry's unconscious desire to hide his scar during their school days, yet now, he barely realised that this habit had the opposite effect. Draco knew that scar – knew it almost as well as its owner did.

Petite Amie leapt out on to the window ledge with a loud thump as Draco snapped out of his reverie. He realised, only too late that he had missed the opportunity to add the sliced feathers, and the base was starting to curdle and separate as it boiled over. Draco cursed loudly in numerous languages, cursing not only his own stupid inattention, but the fact that as he watched the now glutinous white substance spit and hiss and splutter all over his robes, he was reminded of one exquisite moment shared with the least likely person, in the least likely of places.

Cleaning up, a stray thought crossed his mind. Could I really have some sort of relationship with Harry? Don't be crazy, the only relationship you'll ever have with him will always end up a contest of wills and would probably result in a hex that has you wriggling on the floor resembling a flobberworm. Or your brain will turn to a gibbering mess because you can't think of anything else but him.

Although, he thought, I managed to get out of the lavatory without having some sort of hex placed on me. I barely stop thinking about Harry – perhaps he did manage to hex me after all. I know he defended me in front of the Weasel on that one occasion, but I'm fairly certain he would probably laugh at me if I suggested something as ridiculous as a relationship.

Draco shrugged off the strange feeling and forced his thoughts away from frivolous fancies featuring Harry. A good dose of complex Arithmancic equations would definitely do the job. Who knows, he still might find some substitute for Pegasus Wingtips, or a cure for Lycanthropy whilst running the challenging combinations of numbers through his head.

Still, there was as much hope of that happening as there was of him ever getting a chance to relive those few stolen moments with Harry.

--oo0oo--

Harry had been slaving away in his kitchen and was busy chopping up some chicken breast when he felt a familiar warmth wrap around his legs. A soft purr gave away Petite Amie's game plan as she suddenly leapt up on the bench.

"Do you really expect me to let you stay there?" Harry asked. The look on the cat's face was quite innocent. Of course she had every intention of staying right there. There was fresh chicken. Where else was she expected to be? Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed a sliver of chicken and fed it to her. She was most happy about this, but was disappointed when he conjured a bowl and put the rest of her dinner down on the floor.

"Don't look at me like that. I know you only came in here because Draco's brewing something ghastly." She concurred with that and petulantly began to eat her food on the floor. Indeed, the only reason Harry knew Draco was even home was the fact that his lab seemed to be producing some incredible smells, and Harry wondered yet again about him.

From listening to Luc, Harry had gained a little perspective about Potions, and knowing what Draco was doing for Remus, he could appreciate that Draco was probably spending a lot of time on a task that for most would seem thankless. Knowing Draco's pedantic nature when it came to his work, Harry could sympathise when he heard a string of volatile language (in both English and French) waft in through the window on occasion.

A few times he wanted to knock and try for some casual conversation, but he knew that Draco would probably bite his head off if he tried something like that when he was brewing. Harry wasn't stupid. Draco was much like Snape in that regard. Even Petite Amie agreed, and he didn't blame her one bit for wanting to escape the wrath of the angered Potions apprentice.

A familiar whoosh of wings startled Harry from his reverie and he turned to find Hedwig landing gracefully on the table with his mail. She turned her nose up at the offered owl treat when she saw Petite Amie. The cat's gaze bore into Hedwig's before her whole body twitched and her tail shook furiously. Hedwig hooted in displeasure before turning her gaze to the chicken still on Harry's cutting board.

Harry rolled his eyes at once. "Honestly, do you think that I might actually want to eat some of this chicken?" he fed a few more slices to Hedwig, who merrily took her lunch and headed up high into the rafters. Harry didn't fail to notice that she kept her eyes firmly glued to the cat the entire time.

"She's just a guest, Hedwig." The owl hooted reprovingly. Harry raised an eyebrow at her. He swore at times that she knew exactly what he was saying. "Yes, you just mind yourself and be nice, or next time she gets all the chicken." She fluttered her wings in disgust, and Harry finished putting the chicken in the marinade. As he sat down to read his mail, he offered his faithful old owl one final compliment. "Don't worry dear Hedwig, you are the only woman for me."

Hedwig's satisfied coo sounded sceptical as Petite Amie chose that moment to sit in Harry's lap as he opened the Daily Prophet. "What the..." Harry could not believe the front page report on the Neo Death Eaters and their latest atrocities as they attacked a London test cricket match. The international match had attracted a sell-out crowd, and as the match was drawing to a close they struck, killing hundreds of Muggles. As a final sign of their intent, they blasted the stadium down upon their victims before raising a dark mark to the skies. The Muggle authorities cited a malfunction with the fireworks as the cause of the stadium fire and subsequent collapse. The hundreds of deaths were blamed on this tragedy.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath as he read the rest of the story. Absently fingering his scar, he remembered tossing and turning a little the night before, but he had been meditating and working doubly hard on keeping his control all week. He was unsure if he was doing the right thing by everyone by trying to avoid the connection to their dark magic, but wondered if sharing in the pain of their dark intent would actually help capture these Neo Death Eaters any sooner. He needed to talk to the headmaster.

As if listening to his intent, the floo flared brightly. "Good morning, Harry," Albus Dumbledore's face in the Floo was looking tired and drawn.

"Sir," Harry replied.

"Ah, I see you've read this morning's tragic news," he said as he indicated at the discarded paper on the tabletop.

Harry frowned and nodded, "Hmm, yes. I... I honestly didn't expect this... I didn't feel a thing, sir."

"That's excellent news, Harry."

"Excellent? I don't understand, sir. I thought..."

The headmaster stopped him in mid sentence, "It shows that you have you now gained back most of your control. You have done well. Nobody expects you to be a barometer for their activity, Harry."

But Harry had stopped listening to the Headmaster as he absently opened one of the letters in his mail. He suddenly looked down at the very familiar handwriting and scoffed aloud. "Is that so, sir. Well then, you had better tell that to the Ministry..."

"Whatever do you mean, Harry?" Dumbledore sounded puzzled.

"Only this," Harry shoved the letter into the Floo, and the Headmaster nodded sagely as he read it.

"They have got to be joking. I can't do it – I won't do it." Harry was adamant.

"Now, Harry, don't be hasty..." the headmaster cautioned.

Harry laughed mockingly. "Oh, I won't be hasty, don't worry. I have every intention of responding to their offer."

Dumbledore looked over the top of his glasses at Harry. "Whatever you're planning, do be careful."

"Don't worry, sir, I've learned the fine art of diplomacy. After all, I learned from the best." His smirk was not lost on Dumbledore, but it didn't stop the worried look on his face.

After throwing some robes over his jeans and t-shirt, Harry was in the Floo and on his way to the Ministry within the half hour.

--oo0oo--

An hour later, he Apparated back to Hogsmeade in a fury. He was all ready to storm his way back to the castle, but stopped as he realised he needed to calm down. He was in no mood to hear any more bullshit, and there had been enough of that flying around in the Ministry to last a lifetime. The audacity of them! He needed to work off some frustration, but the grumbling in his stomach made him realise that he was ravenously hungry. He glanced up to see that the Leaf and Bean was open, and decided that something frivolous to eat was exactly what he needed right now.

He tried to keep his anger and frustration concealed as he walked in the door, but Emmaline must have read his mind. No sooner had he sat down, than a steaming pot of Darjeeling and a large slice of fruit flan were right in front of him. Events of the morning churned through his mind as he ate, and he still thought them incredulous.

"If they think that I'll just happily waltz back into the Ministry, they obviously don't know me very well." Harry wasn't talking to anyone in particular, but he was surprised when he heard a reply.

"Talking to yourself now, 'Arry?" Harry looked up in surprise. Emmaline had managed to sit down in front of him and he didn't even notice. "You know, when I talk to myself, I usually get answers that I like." Her smile was infectious and he almost instantly felt a sense of warms run through him. "Although it sometimes helps if you talk things through with someone else."

For a moment, Harry wasn't sure what she meant, but he remembered Remus' words from earlier in the week. "Don't think I haven't got a few choice words to say to you." He pursed his lips in anger, but she dismissed them without a care.

"Why don't you tell me what the Ministry has done to upset you so much, then we can discuss other matters," she indicated that Harry should eat his flan as he spoke.

"I guess you saw the Prophet."

Emmaline nodded and frowned. "Such a terrible tragedy. What are the Ministry doing about it?"

Harry snorted derisively. "Oh, they're doing everything in their power, including having the gall to order me back to my old job."

"Can they do that?" Emmaline's eyes widened in surprise.

"I have no idea - but I gave them a piece of my mind and told them I wasn't interested in their power games, nor was I interested in all their empty promises. I don't think they're terribly happy with me, and neither are the reporters and photographers who didn't get the amazing scoop they had been promised."

Harry thought back to Gordon Bridgewater and Claire Guffries' incredible offer. They promised to forget Harry's indiscretions if he just returned to the Aurors and helped to motivate them and rally the troops for the upcoming confrontations with the Neo Death Eaters. In their haste to offer him his old position, they had not realised that Harry was no longer the walking barometer that could identify when and where the Neo Death Eaters were striking. Claire seemed most put out by the fact that Harry could not instantly pinpoint their whereabouts.

They tried offering him everything from a pay rise, to the promise of his own classes once they had caught these latest Dark Wizards. Harry was not interested. He had been on the back foot since the moment he saw Rita Skeeter standing around outside Gordon's office. By then he was quite furious and he may have let a little bit of his temper sway his former bosses into submission.

They might not have backed him into a corner, for Harry told them in no uncertain terms exactly what they could do with their offer. Unfortunately, Claire had grown a bit of a backbone in the past few months, and as he was about to leave, she left him with some stinging parting words.

"You know, it's a shame Harry. Such a waste of talent. It would be terrible if any more Aurors were to lose their lives unnecessarily because you refused to help. Still, if you want to be so selfish about it, I guess we'll just have to catch them on our own."

Emmaline sounded shocked after hearing Harry's retelling of events. "Manipulating you isn't a terribly nice thing to do, 'Arry."

Harry looked at her with a touch of his fury still evident in his eyes. "No, it wasn't. I told them to sod off. I don't like being manipulated. I especially hate being treated like some pawn in a game I have no control over. I've done that before, and I don't particularly care to do it again."

If Harry thought Emmaline would be perturbed by Harry's anger that was now directed toward her, then he was the one to be surprised.

"You know, 'Arry. You are right. Nobody likes to be manipulated. But before you start to vent your anger in the wrong direction, I think that you should perhaps indulge an old witch for a while..." Emmaline's eyes smiled in mirth, but Harry's reply seemed somewhat harsh.

"Indulge? Emmaline, Remus told me you were mixed up with those wretched journals." Harry's eyes narrowed as he tried to read her reaction. Unfortunately, she already knew this. "Of course, if you think of it as an indulgence rather than a manipulation of my feelings..."

"Nobody has manipulated your feelings, 'Arry."

Harry scoffed and he found it hard to take her seriously. "You call spilling my heart and soul into a journal, only to find out that the mysterious stranger I've been talking to and falling in love with is someone I can't stand? You're a nutter!"

"Nobody is being manipulated, 'Arry."

"Really?" he replied sarcastically.

"You can't force or change what is already hidden on the inside."

"Remus was right; you always come up with more questions than answers."

Emmaline scowled, but she was not angry, nor did she seem upset at Harry's accusation. "Remus should not be telling tales, but he answered all your questions, no?"

"What do you mean that it's truly hidden on the inside?" Now he was more confused. At first he was angry at his run in at the Ministry, now he was angry at Emmaline and her damn journals. Why wasn't she surprised or defending herself?

"Harry, if circumstances had been very different – if fate had not placed a prophecy in your path, your life would have been quite different."

"Do you really think so?" He asked mockingly.

Emmaline seemed unperturbed. "The journals have always helped to bring soul mates together when they were in danger of just passing by, but it hasn't changed your feelings in any way. They have helped you to see what has always been there. You have always had an intense relationship with Draco, no?"

"You could say that." He was beginning to see where she was heading. It was starting to make some sense.

Emmaline smiled in return. "You have always been fascinated by Draco, 'Arry. Your lives were always meant to be intertwined. They have been in past lives, and they will be again in the future. Neither of you could be truly happy if you continue the way you have in the past. The journals saw that you two needed to see your real selves so that a great injustice could be corrected. I merely watch over these journals and make sure that nobody interferes with the natural course of things."

Harry sat quietly for a moment and pondered her words.

She put a comforting hand over his. "I am sorry if you thought you were being manipulated. Ancient magic is an unpredictable thing, but you already knew that. It's up to you now to help Draco realise the truth. He's not quite as sure about what he wants out of life as you are."

Harry started to nod, but remembered something that Remus had not answered for him. "Draco really has no idea, Emmaline?"

She shook her head. "I have no doubt that you would already know if he had. You can trust him, you know. He's actually quite vulnerable. He just doesn't realise it at times."

Harry thought about Luc and his admission that he turns everything into a melodrama. "Oh, I think he knows."

"Ah, but I don't think he's ever known what love truly is, 'Arry. I think you're going to have to show him just what it means to be loved." She smiled and grabbed both his hands. The many rings and bracelets adorning her gnarly knuckles and forearms suddenly fascinated Harry.

"You want me to tell him? But Remus said I can't..."

"Oh, no, you can't say a word in the journal. Luc has to work out for himself just who Flash is."

"How can I still write to him and not reveal the truth? My journal always seems to want to pull the truth out of me."

Emmaline smiled and patted him on the hand. "I don't think you'll have any worry, 'Arry. Draco isn't quite ready to accept the truth. Sometimes he needs a good swift kick in the... well, he sometimes needs a shock to make him see the truth. Give him some more time, but do try to show him the real Harry, not the boy his father trained him to loathe."

"But that's so unfair on him." Harry knew exactly how Draco would react if he discovered Harry had been keeping this information from him. "I just don't know if I can keep doing this in good faith."

"He'll understand. He might be a stubborn arse sometimes, but he'll come round. Now, don't worry. You just continue the relationship you have in the journal and when he is ready he will understand." Emmaline seemed so sure that everything would be fine, but she could see that she was still to convince Harry. "Look, you are not suddenly going to change your personality overnight. The man you have seen before you all these months is the real Draco, only he doesn't always show his true colours – at least not until he gets to know you. Have more faith in yourself, Harry. After all, the journal chose you, and that's a privilege not given to many. You and Draco must be brilliant together for the journals to consider you both worthy."

Something Emmaline said made Harry think. "Emmaline, Luc – Draco once said that there were dozens of these journals in pureblood families. Other people know of them. Do they all help bring soul mates together?"

Emmaline looked aghast at Harry's words, "Oh no. There is only one Journal Intime Partagé set. The rest are just charmed parchment made by wizards who heard the legend of the soul mate journals. They wanted some way to keep in touch with loved ones." She laughed suddenly. "But the funny thing, 'Arry, is that those who truly love us, never really leave us. Not in this life, nor in the next." She shook her head and smiled at her own joke.

Harry pondered over that for a moment, thinking of her meaning as well as the message Sirius had been trying to impart when he made a very similar statement in Harry's third year. Refusing to get suck into sorrowful thoughts, he brought his attention back to Emmaline and was about to ask another question, but she stopped him as she pointed her finger at him. "And before you ask, there are no answers for the questions you really want to ask. Just bask in the knowledge that you have found your soul mate. After all that you've been through, 'Arry, you deserve this happiness."

By the time he left, his lingering anger at his former bosses was all but forgotten.

--oo0oo--

For his part, Draco had been enjoying his quiet week. He really only needed to brew for a couple of hours a day, and that was always done by morning tea time. He had started on a few ideas for July's batch of Wolfsbane, but his early experiments were not going as he had planned. He cursed and swore and grumbled over the series of melted cauldrons that took him back to the start of his research. He was not, for once, blaming his lack of success on errant thoughts of Harry. They were true experiments and he wanted to make sure he eliminated every possible combination of ingredients.

He had been so sure about what he was going to do after talking to Remus before he left for London. The werewolf had been looking quite well, and Draco had been feeling confident in his Wolfsbane modifications. Until now. Unfortunately, he had spent much of that last interview with Remus thinking that he was looking rather too good, and his rather roving eye had lingered a little longer than was necessary. He suddenly realised that he was taking in Remus' best features, and mentally comparing them to Harry's.

He shook his head, but it didn't help. Draco cursed his prurient thoughts, for it seemed that no matter what, he could do little to get Harry out of his system. Through fate or sheer dumb luck, they had managed to avoid each other for most of the week. However, he found that he could not stop the unconscious new habit of drinking his coffee by the window above the courtyard. Harry's T'ai Chi was a constant routine in his day and he laughed at the irony of the fact that his own morning relaxation technique involved watching Harry doing his relaxation routine.

With so much spare time in his day, and such warm weather, Draco took every opportunity to get out of the castle. He ventured once into the Forbidden Forest to collect some Centaur spoor, but that was about the most distasteful thing he had to do that week. He was not one for the quiet solitude of a forest, and he had learned at a young age to avoid such places as much as possible. He felt his fear was quite rational; after all, he had quite a good idea of what was in most forests. The Forbidden Forest was no different, only its name warned of the dangers within.

Coming back, he spotted Charlie Weasley, and quickly realised he would ask the former Dragon handler to assist in future unpleasant collection tasks from the forest. He could not help but watch as Charlie was loading empty cages onto the back of a carriage. He was certainly muscular in all the right places, and Draco did not need to engage his imagination to know what was underneath those dragon suede trousers. Again, he did a mental tally of Charlie against Harry.

He could not help a pang of jealousy from running through him at the thought that this delicious male specimen was totally besotted with Severus. Severus was going to have his work cut out for him if he were to keep up with Charlie – or to keep running from him. Why would anyone want to run from that? Charlie is divine. I think I'll get used to watching that over the breakfast table. I might even forgive all that red hair. After all, it's not his hair that I need to take an interest in, is it?

Charlie. Something about the name suddenly struck. Flash had slept with a guy named Charlie. Charlie was the one he was still lusting after. Could it be? Don't be ridiculous, Draco. How many Charlies are there in the UK? It's highly likely that a good proportion of those are well hung and utterly delicious looking wizards who are just oozing sex. But if this is Flash's Charlie, then I could probably find out who Flash is... Draco stopped his line of thinking instantly. Yes Draco, you know exactly what happened the last time you thought you knew who Flash was.

With a shake of the head, he turned away and headed back to the castle. He was not foolish enough to make that mistake twice.

The rest of his week was very quiet, but he spent more time reading and browsing the stores in Glasgow. He was still on a very tight budget, but second hand books and coffee came at an affordable price, and the odd cinema ticket kept him entertained. He would never admit just how much he did enjoy the cinema. He could easily see why so many wizards would be enamoured with the idea of creating movie 'magic' for Muggles.

Of course, there were quite slim pickings to watch, and far too much female flesh or wanton violence for Draco's liking. The ticket attendant was most adamant that he would enjoy something called 'Charlie's Angels', but he decided a nice cartoon, complete with talking fish seemed quite entertaining. It reminded him of the Babel Fish he had once seen at the Magical Menagerie. They were quite rare and extremely difficult to train, but once you did, they would not stop talking.

He had never been to a film with so many young Muggle children in attendance. Fortunately he had a pain-killing potion in his jacket pocket that would quell the rising headache. He would have liked to help the young mother who was at the end of her tether with three young boys who all seemed to be complete horrors. He could understand Lucius' sentiments about avoiding Muggles if they were all like these boys.

By the middle of the movie, Draco noticed an excessive burst of unrestrained magic as the elder brother levitated his soft drink and tipped it over the younger brother who had thrown the popcorn. Ah great, a Muggleborn troublemaker. Judging from his age I'll be long gone from Hogwarts before he gets his letter.

He felt sorry for the flustered mother, and surreptitiously cast a small shield around the harried mother and the bickering children. They literally found themselves glued to their seats, and Draco, along with their mother and all the other patrons, were pleased they could watch the rest of the film in silence.

He was happily whistling the movie's theme tune as he returned to Hogsmeade. He was in high spirits and was about to step into the Leaf and Bean for a chat with Emmaline, when Harry was just leaving the shop.

"Draco," Harry seemed a little startled, and looked back at Emmaline, who was now polishing glasses with a dishcloth. He seemed to be stunned by Draco's sudden appearance at the store wearing Muggle gear. Draco didn't fail to notice that Harry was admiring his leather jacket.

"Harry," he nodded in return.

It was the only conversation they had all week. Still, it was pleasant, and both men had very carefully eyed each other up and down (Harry definitely looked more relaxed and comfortable in Muggle gear rather than in robes). Draco noticed that Harry's hair seemed messier than ever and there was a hint of fury still lurking around the edges of his eyes. Something had pissed Harry off enough to make him lose his temper. Draco could see that much, but somehow he had regained his control and was now a lot calmer.

Draco turned to say something as he entered the store, but Harry was already walking away down the lane. He shrugged, wondering if the story in the morning's Prophet had done anything to feed his temper. Just as the door closed on the store, Harry stopped in his tracks and turned. He was torn between going back and starting a conversation with Draco, and blurting the truth. Emmaline had given him plenty more to think about.

So much to think about that Harry spent a great deal of time meditating. It was very early Sunday morning when he realised the whole crux of it all. His Anam Cara – his group of soul friends. Draco was the counterpoint to it all. That sense of anticipation that had been building for so long finally began to make sense. Draco was his soul mate and he could now clearly see that their lives had been intertwined since that first chance meeting at Madame Malkin's all those years before.

He felt a sense of rightness about Draco – about being in the castle and finally, about admitting the truth to himself. Emmaline helped him to make that final connection. Unfortunately, if Emmaline was correct, then Draco was still oblivious and needed time to realise the truth. If only Harry could get past that nagging voice of doubt that suspected he was still hiding behind some mask.

Harry realised he could use the journal not for his own advantage, but to help Draco see the truth of the matter. But first, there was one thing he had to ask Luc to help cast out that echo of doubt in his mind.

--oo0oo--

Sunday, June 22 Hey Luc, you around yet? Yes, I'm here! How are you Flash? Hi! I'm doing okay, how are you? Oh well, the usual. Enjoying some relaxing time over the summer. Wondering just how much you're going to humiliate me by asking embarrassing questions. I am so glad you wrote the other day. I thought I might have scared you off or been a little too self centred that you decided to up and leave. What about your week? What's happened in the life of Flash? No no, you didn't scare me off at all. I just had some unexpected news and couldn't hang around. I knew there was some reason why I should not have been chatting to you in the coffee shop. I am sorry about your unexpected news. Is it all resolved now? Oh yeah, it'll be all right. Some things are still up in the air and I have to do some meditation and such to determine how I feel about things. I'm trying to react in the Asian manner, just let things happen and wait to see where it goes, which is why I'm not going into too much detail about it just yet... and well, the rest of the week has been really busy, so I just haven't had the chance to look for you since I left that note. I'm doing well, though, and adjusting to my new job coming up. That's good to hear! I like the whole idea of just letting things happen. I guess whenever we try to force things, they never really do turn out the way we expect. So, what's this new job like? Have you started yet? No, I'll be doing some preparation over the summer, but the real deal doesn't start until September. It's along the lines of my temporary position, but without the end date. I think I'll be really happy here now that I'm on as a permanent employee and it seems to be just what I've been looking for. I know that must be a relief. I admit that I was apprehensive about coming back here to start this job, but really, it is almost perfect. My mentor trusts my abilities and knows what I am capable of. He gives me plenty of leeway with my research, and now that he's gone on holidays (remind me to tell you why) I have a slightly lighter workload for the summer. Plenty of time for me to wander into town and catch up on lots of fine coffee. I admit to quite a few trips into the city to mingle up in the High Street. I've been enjoying a little bit of Muggle culture, thanks to you.

Harry paused for a moment as he realised that the mentor Luc had spoken of so many times was Severus Snape. He could not help but chuckle at the notion that Luc had mistakenly thought Flash was Snape, and wondered just what would have happened if Draco had actually approached Snape with those thoughts.

Sounds like you're enjoying yourself. I must say, Muggle culture does have its high points, and I'm glad to know you've been enjoying them. Yes, well I've learned that if Muggles are gullible enough to believe in talking animated fish, then they probably wouldn't find the Wizarding World all that strange. Still, I think it was only aimed at children. There seemed to be an inordinate number of them in the cinema. Besides, it was a lovely diversion. I needed to get away from work for a while. There are only a few of us left over the summer, and I had been trying to avoid too much contact with Mr-Saturday-night-in-the-Lavatory. Unfortunately, I've had him on my mind all week, and he's somehow insinuated himself even further in my dreams. Not that I'm complaining. I just... well, things are still a little awkward. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Talking animated fish, eh? That one must have been interesting. I must admit I haven't been to the cinema in far too long and could probably use the escape from reality. As for your 'incident' and the dreams and such, well I think I can guess what you mean, and how awkward things must be.

Harry took a deep breath, wondering if he should quickly change the subject, but was thoroughly unsure how. Fortunately, the magic of the journals took over before he had time to gain control of the quill.

How are things with him now? Have you spoken any more? Any developments in regard to your feelings for him? I mean, you suggested that your activities were quite hot, but is it just lust, or do you think you feel something deeper for him?

Harry felt awful, but his curiosity was always rampant at the best of times. He felt like he was taking advantage of Draco, but he was genuinely only wanting to know about his own future chances with Draco. It might be the only way he could ever face Draco and learn the truth.

Sweet Merlin, I don't know what to think. I've known him practically half my life, but it's like I'm only just beginning to know him, if that makes any sense. I keep seeing these other guys - Merlin there is this absolutely divine Adonis who is now working here and he's the one who has his sights set on my mentor (hence his sudden pressing business elsewhere for the holidays. Honestly, I think he would be good for him. He needs to loosen up a bit and I'm sure this fellow would keep him quite... loose).

Harry knew that this was Charlie that Draco was talking about, and felt a slight stab of jealousy. Even Draco was thinking of him in such a way? Don't be ridiculous, Harry. Charlie has always turned heads. It just goes to show that Draco appreciates similar tastes to yours.

But as for my fellow, I'm seeing him in a completely new light. I've been having those lust filled dreams about him since Beltane, so I don't know. I did chat with him and he seemed quite upset about something. I applied some of your cool and calm logic and he seemed a little better. I honestly don't know if it is just lust. It doesn't feel like it is. I think I'll follow your lead again and just let whatever happens happen. How's that? I won't make a melodrama either way. But since I was distracted by the Adonis, what I meant to say was that I kept seeing them, and I am now comparing them all to him. I haven't done that since I was with Jean-Paul. That sounds like the best way to handle things, especially in a situation like this. Honestly, it's really nothing you can control either way, right? You are quite right, as usual Flash. Que Sera, Sera. So, does Spanish do it for you as much as the French language? Oh, I thought that was French! But alas, I can handle the little phrases because they're easy enough to figure out, and of course, it's written, so it won't start turning me on the way spoken French does.

But just as he wrote that, Harry's over-active imagination thought of Draco's melodic tones speaking long and slow in French. Just the thought was enough to make his heart beat just a bit faster, his breathing just a bit shallower. I have to stop thinking like this. It's not fair, not knowing who he is, he thought. He continued to read on.

Ah, good. I'd hate to fluster you and cause you to lose concentration.

Draco could not help the slightly flirtatious tone in his voice, because he started to think about Harry again – specifically Harry speaking Parseltongue. Snap out of it! Merlin, you're thinking about Harry even now! So naturally you've started flirting with Flash. Good one, Draco.

I'm sorry, Flash. I couldn't help myself. I started to drift off and think about him. He speaks another language, you see, and I was wondering what it would be like to hear him speaking it again. It's quite distinctive. But you don't really want to hear any more about me talking about him. It really isn't fair to you. No, it's okay Luc. You shouldn't have to censor your thoughts just because of my confession, and frankly I don't think these journals will let you hide much anyway.

Harry was conflicted between feeling guilty at how unfair this whole thing was to Draco, and feeling curious about what information he could get. After all, didn't Emmaline tell him that Draco needed to know how he really felt about Harry before he realised the truth? Surely this was helping. Again, the quill seemed to get away from him.

So, you're both bi-lingual then? Is he from another country? Well yes, you could say we are both bi. Bi-lingual that is - I'm not sure if he's the other type of bi or if he's just completely bent. At least I've not heard any gossip about him with the women - not that I really paid much attention. But I just haven't been able to get him off my mind all week. Even my cat has taken to visiting him, but she's a trollop and will sleep with anyone for food. Now, tell me. Don't think I've forgotten. Sorry, I'm still laughing at the starving trollop cat. Surely she's not that bad. Well she's far from starving, but she's been casting her feline wiles at him at all hours. I think she likes him more than me. I'm sure it's just the start of a beautiful friendship. Can't have your cat hating him now, can you. I doubt the cat likes him more than you, but perhaps she's a good judge of character? She might be at that. After all, she loved me first! And she did follow me all the way from home with my Petite Mère. Oh, yes of course, Luc, and if she loved you 'first' then that's just a perfectly clear example that you must be a fabulous man! Perhaps he's a better cook! Oh no, I'm definitely more fabulous. I don't know how good his cooking is, but I have smelled some delicious dishes coming from his kitchen, but I do know he couldn't boil a simple wart removing potion if he tried. I should know. I suffered seven years of Potions with him!

For the first time Harry definitely knew he was talking to Draco. That was a sure sign of the cocky Malfoy arrogance. Harry laughed but didn't even blink as he continued to chat obliviously. He nearly forgot he was talking to Draco as it felt like he had connected again with Luc.

Sorry, you were saying before I interrupted you with my hysteria over the cat? The other week you were going to tell me something about your horrid Saturday night. Do you still need to talk about it, or has it resolved itself? Oh, it was just the beginning of the unexpected news I mentioned. Suffice to say an old acquaintance and current colleague is not at all what I thought he was and I'm still trying to process the new information. Ah, I see then. Glad that you are working it through. It seems we've both come a long way since we started to write in these journals. It does seem that way, doesn't it? Yes, it does. So, when you last wrote, you mentioned that you finally worked out what question you were going to ask me. Now before you do, I'll try to give you the answers to my most embarrassing moments. Okay, this should be interesting... I'd like to see what answers you give without a question... My Teddy Bear's name was Sal (he was green and it was short for Salazar. He had red eyes and black fur); my favourite comic was 'Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle', but Father never let me buy them – so I stole all my copies; and I was active in competitive sport - at my mother's insistence. Thankfully, I had to give up active participation once I left for school and moved on to more manly pursuits. There, did the answer to your question fall somewhere in that lot? Actually, no. Not at all. Bugger. You mean I didn't cover all bases? Are you still willing to answer my actual question though? So long as it doesn't include revealing your real name, floo address or place of employment? I was so sure you were intent on asking me something terribly embarrassing about my childhood. Here I was thinking you were going to ask about my ballroom dancing trophies. I made a promise. I'll answer your question, Flash. I owe you that much. I don't go back on a promise. Damn, I didn't mention the ballroom dancing a moment ago, did I? Cursed journal. Nothing wrong with ballroom dancing, Luc. It's a beautiful thing to watch and I'd love to see your trophies some day.

Although Harry had a very clear mental picture now of Draco that was certainly not going to go away in a hurry, he knew it was now or never. The moment of truth – for both of them.

Seriously though, I put a lot of thought into something I'd like to know about you, something that hasn't really come up in our chats. I finally decided that I want to know what your deepest, darkest secret is. I don't mean the secret comics or the deeply hidden voyeurism, but your real honest-to-Merlin darkest secret.

Draco nodded and pursed his lips. He had half been expecting a question like this, but he knew that the topic had to come up some time. Better to tell him now and know that you have at least been honest with him. You haven't been lying to him, Draco. Just be a man and spit it out. You haven't had to tell anyone your sordid past before – your reputation preceded you.

Harry didn't fail to notice the longer than usual pause. Was Draco trying to do some very swift thinking? Was this the final straw? Would he reveal the whole thing as a farce? Harry didn't know, but if Draco truly was the evil git he had imagined for half his life, then he was probably trying to convince the journal to let him lie.

Sorry, Luc. Was that too personal? Are you sure you don't want to reconsider and ask me about my hidden stash of 'Wizard Wangers' magazines? I started collecting them when I was only 11. No, I'm just stalling now. I want you to know that I have not been totally honest with you all these months. I haven't lied – well this journal won't let me, but it's more like it's been a lie of omission. Before I say anything else, you need to know a bit more about my background. Ok. I had a rather unique position in the war, actually. It was such a unique position that there were only two of us working in this capacity. My mentor was the other one, and he had been working in this capacity since the first fall of Voldemort. I don't know how he could do that for over 25 years, but he did. I won't go into much more boring detail, suffice to say that I had probably one of the most unenviable tasks during the war. I can understand that... I had quite a unique position in the war as well. I was in a very awkward situation. You see, my father was a heavy supporter of Voldemort. So heavy that for a while as a child, I knew no better. My mother, rest her soul, only followed him out of fear. Okay, I'm stalling again. I'll say it plainly, with no more omissions. My deepest secret starts with the fact that my father was a Death Eater, as were most of my mother's family. Please just hear me out. My father had always assumed that I would follow in his footsteps, without any argument. I could not condone that, but I agreed to work as a spy for Albus Dumbledore. I agreed to go undercover. For most intents and purposes, I was a Death Eater. I had to kill and rape and do everything ghastly, yet at the same time I reported back to the Order of the Phoenix with vital information. At least I think it was vital. I never knew of the Order's plans for fear I would be found out and tortured for the information. So there you have it. I was a Death Eater. Yes I still have the tattoo to prove it. Well, the ugly scar from where I had to have it removed by Muggles. That's another story for another time, however. It's not exactly the sort of thing I start off telling new acquaintances at parties, but most people who know me already know of my history.

Draco was wondering about Flash's ominous silence at the other end of the journal. He has also been expecting this. Now I really have scared Flash away.

Harry, for his part knew most of what Draco had told him, but he had never really given thought to what Draco and Severus had to do as they spied. As distasteful as it was to him having to cast Unforgivables, he suddenly saw it in a completely different light to realise the not only had they had to do the same, but to be an effective spy, they would have needed to involve themselves in the torture and rape of Muggles.

Harry felt a wave of sympathy go out to Draco as he realised for the first time the difficulty Draco had after all that. No wonder Snape was such a closed and unpleasant personality. He could see how Draco could end up the same if someone didn't help him.

Of course, he realised now that Draco had been telling the truth. He had no idea that he was writing to Harry, and he was being completely honest. This thought lightened his mood considerably.

Thank you, Luc. I know that must have been very hard to reveal, despite the pull of the journal. I appreciate your honesty and your trust, it truly means more to me than you could know. I'm sorry that I made you say it. I won't betray your trust. I would not have said anything if you did not already have my trust, Flash. That is the big preconception everyone has had about me all these years. Like I said, I have notoriety. Father was just as well known, too. I'm sure that it won't be much of a stretch for you to find out who I am, and I completely understand if you just happen to stumble across that information. After all, you were planning on meeting me in a month or so.

Draco had an awful feeling that Flash would probably want to cancel their meeting now – his words were all politeness and concern, but Draco had lived for too many years with the legacy of his past. Very few people would stick around after hearing that. It was one reason why he fled to Paris.

I wouldn't 'try' to find out... that would be unfair. After all, I have my share of notoriety, believe me, and if you really wanted to, you could find out who I was, too. No Flash. You know, I feel a little bit better for having told you that. It was like a great big albatross hanging over me. I guess it is better than you finding out from someone else. That would be horribly unfair to you, and I value your friendship too much for that. I'm just sorry that I also told you about my embarrassing childhood on the dance floor. I should not have been so hasty to second-guess you. There's really no need to be embarrassed about that, either. It's just part of your past, and your past shaped you into the person you are today. I guess that's true. Not that it's done much help lately. Can't trip the light fantastic any more. The war at least put an end to that. My knee won't be doing any 'Paso Dobles' in the near future.

Harry could only feel for Draco and know how much his injury has affected his life. Knowing now that he was missing out on something else that he apparently excelled at was just another blow. If only he could get Ron to see sense and let them in to the Manor so he could once and for all check for that rare ingredient.

His quill hand was shaking, and he realised he would not be able to chat much longer without revealing anything. Besides, he needed to sit back and absorb everything he had learned from Luc that night. From Draco.

That may be true, but you never know what wonders will be discovered by some medi-wizard or Potions master in the future. Listen, Luc, I hate to run off, but I really need to take care of some other stuff. I have a friend getting married soon and there's preparations to deal with and such... you know how it is.

There it was. The dismissal. Draco had heard it so many times before. Too often. He blinked and barely noticed the moisture that was forming in the corner of his eye. He took off his reading glasses and recast the cleaning charm on them. However could they get so dirty? His quill was shaking as he held it firmly, and he barely noticed the just how firmly his own lips were pressed together in that scowl that formed the protective mask that hid his true personality.

Yes, Not all of us have the luxury of too much time on our hands. You have a great time. Will I catch up with you soon? Or is next Sunday better? I know I don't want to chat from the coffee shop again - too many interruptions. With the wedding and all, I think Sunday might be better. I hope to have more free time after this is over, but as I'm the best man I have a rather large part to play. Sure thing Flash. Well, do have a wonderful time. All that heterosexual love and all. Do keep me apprised if you notice any worthy talent at the wedding, won't you? Will do. You take care, and I'll catch up with you in a week! Au revoir, Luc. Bye, Flash.

Well, Draco. Congratulations on fucking up yet another beautiful friendship. You only have yourself to blame, really. Don't fool yourself. You saw how quickly he politely signed off. No bets taken that he'll find some excuse to cancel the upcoming chat. Just you wait.

Draco poured the last of the firewhisky into a glass and sat gazing into the fire. It was going to be another long and lonely night. For once, the alcohol didn't warm the cold, hard lump that had formed in Draco's chest. He couldn't bring himself to look at his journal, and he couldn't even bring himself to think.

--oo0oo--

Harry felt positively rotten. He knew he had rushed hastily at the end and gave Draco a rather rude brush off, but what else could he do? He closed the journal and headed directly for the decanter. He was going to need a very stiff drink to help digest all that he had learned.

Yet through all that pain, he came to the realisation the Draco truly was Luc – there was not a single bit of doubt. He had professed his love to Luc, and now that he knew Luc was Draco, he didn't find that thought nearly as bad as it seemed. In fact, the smile that appeared on his face spoke volumes.

His thoughts turned to his soul group – his Anam Cara. He had unconsciously thought of Draco as a member of that group, but now it made perfect sense that he was there. He had always clashed with Draco from the very start. Obviously their souls had always clashed in some way, causing such high sparks. Now that they had been somewhat open and trusting, their souls were beginning to flow together, and they were definitely soul friends.

Harry was blessed with so many soul friends. According to the Irish, with so many soul friends, Harry would have arrived at that most sacred place: home.

Somehow, Harry knew that was the truth. He was definitely home.

--oo0oo--

June 23 – Monday

Popping down to London for the day gave Harry an opportunity to have lunch with Ron. Hermione was so busy with her new role that he was surprised she was even allowed to take time off to get married.

As much as he loved popular Muggle culture, Harry was finding Muggle London a little stifling. Being back at Hogwarts made Harry realise just how much he really did belong in the Wizarding world. The sweltering summer heat didn't really bother him as he had cast a cooling charm over himself, but it had been quite some time since he had been stuck in such a throng of people. Muggle or Wizard, Harry was never really fond of crowds at the best of times, but today he was particularly irritated by them.

Glad to have his errand behind him, Harry stepped gratefully back into Diagon Alley. Even the cries of recognition from a few people were not so bad after the jostling Muggle crowds. He could only guess that Ron would be pleased at the surprise he would get on his stag night. To accommodate everyone's wishes, Harry planned a night of high carousing at a well known Muggle pub. This place was a common stop for many Muggle stag parties, and it was only around the corner from an equally well known strip club. Being Muggle, Ron's new father-in-law would be able to join in the festivities, and Harry could ensure that all the boys kept their wands away.

He knew Hermione was adamant that the Weasley brothers would only get up to mischief if left to their own devices with Ron. Harry figured that by staying in Muggle territory, no Weasley Wizard Wheezes and no hexes could spoil their evening. Harry really had no idea where to start the planning. He hated to admit that it was Oliver who gave him the idea. As he tried to wrack his brain to come up with some sort of party that Ron would thoroughly enjoy, he remembered a conversation with Oliver many months before about the drinking habits of single heterosexual males.

Harry had indulged Oliver one night and at Ollie's insistence, they wound up at a Muggle gay bar in the middle of Chelsea. Memories of his time with Ollie were not quite as painful now, but he was quickly realising that his past lovers were all just one great learning experience that he needed to help him see exactly who and what he wanted out of life.

Without Ollie, he admitted reluctantly, I probably would not have started writing in the journal. I wonder if that was by chance, or was that something else that was out of my control? Harry shrugged as he entered the elevator to Ron's office. He had given too much thought to everything this past week. He needed to stop second guessing and go back to doing what he did best – being clueless and going with gut instinct. After all, that had worked so well so far.

Ron's secretary had already gone to lunch, but the door to his office was open. Harry could not help but smirk as he saw Ron practically swimming in the piles of paperwork on his desk.

"Harry!" Ron's face lit up as he saw him lounging against his door. "What 'choo doing in town?" he asked in genuine surprise.

Harry casually strolled in and plonked himself down in the comfy armchair opposite Ron's desk. "Oh," he grinned, "I had... business." He quickly tried to deflect the conversation. "Fancy some lunch? I could eat a hippogriff."

Ron raised both eyebrows and smirked. "Smashing idea! I was hoping someone could come and rescue me from all this shite. The one thing I don't need now is more paperwork, but if I'm going to take time off for our honeymoon, then I want to be sure everything is in order."

Harry grinned. He remembered the piles of useless paperwork that the Ministry loved so much, and knew he made the right decision not to return to the Aurors (even if he had wanted to). He could only assume the bank was just as fond of it. Why Ron actually enjoyed it, Harry could only begin to imagine. "Just give me five more minutes, Harry, then we can duck down to that new place around the corner. Everyone's raving about it."

Harry sat back and quietly listened to the scratch of Ron's quill as he signed a few more papers. The signed parchments folded themselves and took off down the hall to their respective destinations. The familiar flutter of wings suddenly broke the quiet as an owl swooped low, landing directly in front of Ron.

"Gerroff, pesky bloody bird." Ron feverishly shooed the bird away. Harry thought the bird looked familiar, but was distracted as Ron grabbed the owl and threw it bodily back out the window. He came back with a number of scratches over his hands. He ripped open the envelope and quickly scanned the first couple of lines of the message. Snorting in disgust, Ron banished the letter to the fireplace. Harry heard Ron mutter a few choice words under his breath, but he distinctly heard the word 'Malfoy' somewhere in the mix.

Harry suddenly remembered seeing the bird recently hanging around the courtyard at Hogwarts and knew it to be Draco's. He was quite startled by Ron's rather assertive dismissal of Draco's correspondence, but he had an inkling of what it might be about.

"Is Draco still asking you if he can get access to the Manor?" Harry asked casually. He was most likely wanting to get into the family potions lab. If he finds what he needs, then he can brew the potion to cure his cursed knee.

Ron snorted. "Stupid bloody ferret writes practically every day. I don't think he can get the hint. The answer's still no."

"Aren't you being a little harsh, Ron?" Harry couldn't see what the real problem was. "I think his request is perfectly reasonable."

"Oh? Do you now?" Ron seemed a little put out that Harry didn't agree with him. "I'm really not surprised he'd try to wheedle his way into your good graces."

Harry just blinked. "What's that supposed to mean, Ron?"

"You seem to have become awfully friendly with the Ferret of late, Harry. Are you sure he hasn't hexed you or anything?"

Harry suspected Ron might be feeling a little jealous of the fact that he was now friendly with Draco. "He's not as bad as you think. I've left the past in the past, and now we've both grown up. I think you should probably do the same."

"Have you listened to yourself, Harry? This is Malfoy we're talking about here. He's slimy, manipulative and I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw the scrawny little..." Ron's voice and temper were both rising.

"Ron! Keep your hair on, there's no need to get aggressive. You really have no valid reason to stop him."

"No valid reason?" Ron shouted incredulously. "Harry, I don't know how Malfoy's blinded you, but I have dozens of extremely good reasons why I don't think he should be within Apparition distance of this country, let alone Malfoy bloody Manor. These Neo Death Eaters are far too interested in Malfoy for him to be completely innocent of any involvement with them."

"Oh, and I suppose you have proof that he's involved?" Harry retorted.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll catch him out soon enough. If he thinks he can just boss his way around..."

Harry could not believe Ron's complete inability to forgive and to see that Draco was the victim of the Neo Death Eaters. "Ron, I think you're Niffling around the wrong tree. Draco isn't..."

"Harry," Ron cried, "listen to yourself. You're calling him Draco. You're defending him. There's definitely something wrong there. Look, I know you're terribly gullible and that you're quite vulnerable..."

"I am not gullible..." Harry was affronted.

"Right," Ron remarked sarcastically, "Harry, sometimes you so desperately want to believe there is good in everyone. That little faggot is working you…"

Harry bristled at Ron's language, but chose to ignore the slur. "Ron, why are you so against Draco going to the Manor? He's helping people now. He needs potions ingredients and some of them are quite rare. What's the problem with me accompanying him? I've been to Malfoy Manor before and it's no…"

"Why are you pushing this?" Ron's temper flared. "I've said no, and that's final."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron. Why don't I talk to one of your superiors – someone who isn't so close to the case? I'm sure they'll have no problem. You're just being stubborn." Harry knew that nobody but Ron would have a problem with him accompanying Draco to the Manor. It really was no problem. He wanted to do this – after all, he was the one who gave Draco the vain hope that he might be able to remove his curse.

"Now you think you can just come in here and tell me how to do my job? You're not an Auror any more, Harry, and you've not been able to boss me around since the final battle. I sincerely doubt he's trying to help anyone but himself, Harry."

"Trying to make you see reason is not bossing you around, Ron. Why don't you get someone else to look after Draco's money if you're going to be so unreasonable about it? It's obvious you can't be objective about him at all. I'm sure Draco would have no trouble with that."

Ron snorted in disbelief. "Draco, Draco, Draco! Have you listened to yourself lately?"

"I just can't see why you can't forgive him. I have. He's never done anything wrong. He isn't a Death Eater, he never was. He might have been an obnoxious snot at school, but he's grown up. Perhaps you should too, Ron." Harry didn't want to hear any more of Ron's inflexible argument.

Ron just shook his head. "Harry, I am more convinced than ever that Draco has done something to affect you. I'm worried about you, Harry. You've changed these past few months. Ever since you left Oliver and the Aurors, you've changed."

"Of course I have, Ron. Best decisions I ever made." Harry wasn't going to let Ron change the subject. "Just agree to let Draco go to the Manor and I'll accompany and vouch for him. It's simple. I'm sure Hermione would agree. I still think you should get one of your superiors to handle this case because it's obvious you aren't working for Draco's best interests."

Ron eyed Harry in disbelief. "You really have been getting in cosy with Malfoy if you're starting to think of going over my head will resolve the issue. I'd expect something like that of a Slytherin. Don't even think about it, Harry – I won't stand for it."

"Well I wouldn't have to suggest it if you could just be reasonable." Harry hated arguing in circles with Ron, but he wasn't about to see Draco miss out on something because Ron was being a prick. They hadn't disagreed like this since Harry was in the Tri-Wizard tournament. Back then it was his stubbornness and inability to clearly see the obvious that angered Ron. He really had not changed in the decade since then. "He really does do some great work with his potions – he's brewed a wonderful painkiller that's better than anything I've ever had – and you know how many painkillers I've needed in the past. He's really helped Remus with the Wolfsbane. Can't you see that you're just doing this out of spite?"

"That little faggot is playing you, Harry." Ron shook his head.

"Don't call him that, Ron." Harry had never heard Ron use such vehement language. He'd never heard him say anything even remotely prejudiced before. "Just think about who you're saying that to."

Ron was not apologetic. "How do we know he didn't hex you to make you think that, Harry? I wouldn't put it past the bastard. One minute you're kissing Cho and making eyes at my sister, the next you tell me you prefer buggering boys. It was unnatural, and wrong, Harry! It was all a Slytherin plot to make you think that as a distraction from Voldemort..."

"That's enough, Ron!" Harry didn't have to listen to incredulous stories from Ron's vivid imagination. "I don't know why you're suddenly so homophobic, but I can assure you that who I choose to shag has always been completely my own decision. You're barking if you think Draco had anything to do with it."

Ron laughed suddenly, a twisted smile on his face. "Now I see what this is really about."

"What?" Harry had no idea what Ron was thinking.

"You're sticking up for him because you and he... Shit, Harry. Please tell me you aren't shagging that pointy-faced bastard. Could you fuck your life over any more?" Harry didn't have an answer for Ron. He was still trying not to lose his own temper over Ron's sudden bout of homophobia. What had brought that on? Had someone hexed him?

"Merlin's balls! Are you crazy? You always make stupid decisions when you think with your dick, Harry. Malfoy, for Merlins' sake. I thought sleeping with my brother was the stupidest thing you've ever done, but it seems you've just gone one better."

Harry had an unconscious urge to grab his wand. He was beyond feeling rational. "My private life is my business, Ron, as you've pointed out to me on several occasions. Only you could twist and turn your own stubbornness into an attack on a fundamental part of my personality. If you must know, I'm helping Draco because I'm making up for all the years of passing unfair judgement on him. He deserves a chance, just like everyone else. I don't know why I'm wasting my time trying to convince you. You have no understanding of the guilt I carry. But tell me one thing. You always told me you were okay with the fact I was gay. Have you suddenly had a change of heart?" Harry remembered with dread the thought of telling his friends that he really didn't want to date any girls, and that he found himself more attracted to men. He thought it went rather well at the time, and they had always seemed so supportive.

Ron didn't respond, but he couldn't look Harry in the eye, either. He nodded painfully at Ron's silent admission of guilt. He took a deep breath to remain calm – arguing with Ron was pointless. If he was going to turn this argument into some sort of gay bashing thing, then their conversation was over. He got up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Ron snarled. He seemed surprised that Harry was leaving.

"I've suddenly lost my appetite." Harry stormed out and didn't look back.

--oo0oo--

June 26 - Thursday

Harry was still furious at Ron and his blatant refusal to help Draco. Why was he being so irrational? Ron's harsh words were still playing in Harry's head, and the last thing he really wanted to do was spend an evening with someone who all but admitted, after half a lifetime, that they were uncomfortable about something as important as your sexuality.

Harry might have been totally blown away by Ron's temper, but he knew his own stubborn nature when it came to what he thought was right and wrong. He was all ready to forget about the stag night, and assumed that he would no longer be welcome at the wedding, but a frantic visit from Hermione the day after the argument brought about an uncomfortable truce.

Hermione, for her part, wasn't about to see her wedding destroyed because her fiancé and her best friend might come to blows because they were a pair of stubborn gits. Hermione reluctantly admitted to Harry that Ron may not have been entirely honest about his feelings towards Harry's sexuality. He had been convinced at first that someone had hexed Harry into thinking that way, but he tried hard to accept that part of Harry's personality. Hermione admitted it was hard at times, but it had been especially difficult after Harry admitted sleeping with Charlie.

Harry was completely floored by this revelation. He always thought Ron's joke about keeping his private life private was just that – a joke. He would have loved to confront Ron about this, but he was still angry. He did agree, for Hermione's sake, to be there for the wedding and to give Ron his stag night. He had done all the work for it anyway, so all he had to do was show up. He promised not to mention any topic that would reignite their feud.

But for Harry, it became an evening where he had to prove something to Ron. For years he was proving himself to almost everyone except his best friend, but now he needed to show him that just because he didn't love women, it didn't mean he was any less of a man.

Although Harry would be the first to admit that his usual party planning involved plenty of good wine and good food with lots of relaxing music in the background, he knew that Ron was always bored at his parties. The twins had agreed that Harry's choice of party venue was just the ticket.

The wizarding contingent all arrived separately. Fortunately the Weasleys were all able to blend into the Muggle surroundings without raising too many questions. Harry and Charlie Apparated from the Hogwarts gates together, and Arthur arrived with Hermione's father in his car. Arthur was beaming from ear to ear. The two older men seemed quite intent on their conversation about car engines, but they promised to share a couple of rounds and then let the boys have their little party without their interference. Indeed, the Minister of Magic was infinitely more excited about Ron's soon to be father-in-law than he was about keeping his rowdy sons in line.

The pub was hot and overcrowded, with a local football team having their end of season celebration at the other end of the bar. They were rowdy and itching for a fight. Things were going smoothly and with so many people, Ron had barely said two words to Harry. This suited Harry just fine. Now was not the time, nor the place for them to continue with their disagreement. Discovering that Ron was the groom, the barman's eyes lit up and he put out a dozen shot glasses. Very soon each glass was lined up with something different. Ron's eyes bulged as he realised he was expected to drink all of the shots in a row. He looked warily at the twins, but they had promised Hermione that no Wheezes would end up in any of Ron's food or drink. Bill and Percy certainly seemed to be encouraging him.

Everyone seemed to be relaxed and enjoying themselves, paying out quite severely on their youngest brother. Half way through the night, Fred decided to get up and start the round of toasts to the next Weasley groom. Harry had only been drinking modestly – the pub really was a little too rough for his tastes, and their house wine was shite. He would have done anything for a butterbeer, but he ended up nursing only his second glass of Guinness.

Charlie had noticed Harry's lack of exuberance throughout the night. "Harry, you aren't your usual bubbly and bumbling self tonight. Are you staying off the lager for any particular reason?" he nudged Harry and winked, knowing full well what Harry had done the last time he got drunk around Charlie. "You've barely said two words to Ron all night." So someone had noticed. He was glad it was Charlie, at least.

Harry shrugged and nursed his beer closer. "Oh, we're just having a little difference of opinion over something. It will sort itself out soon. I hope." He murmured the last.

Charlie put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm afraid our little brother got most of the Weasley temper. I hope he hasn't been too rough on you."

Harry smiled at Charlie, "Nah, it's fine. You would think I'd be used to his moods now." You would think that he could have been honest with me all these years. How come I never noticed before? "I just wish he weren't so stubborn. Has he ever said anything to you about being gay?"

Charlie's mood soured for a moment. "Not in so many words, Harry, but I know he and Bill are more alike than they would care to admit. He's never said much to me, but I know he thinks the same as Bill. I was actually surprised he took it so well with you – I thought he must have just had something about his brother being gay. Still, I think he'll have his hands full with Hermione."

"Too right," Harry replied, a little calmer now that he was enjoying Charlie's company.

"Still, Harry, you could have picked somewhere we could have at least had something to look at – there's barely an ounce of talent in this room – present company excepted."

"I thought you only had eyes for greasy gits, Charlie," Harry offered in good humour.

Charlie raised an eyebrow and whispered conspiratorially in Harry's ear, "Oh, but there's no reason why I can't look at the menu, is there?"

The pair of them laughed and shared a knowing smile. Now that he was friends with Charlie, Harry found that he was more relaxed around him, and as part of Charlie's flirtatious nature, he found Charlie's arm around his shoulder, but more in a show of support than in affection.

"Oi!" Harry and Charlie turned at Bill's voice. Harry could see the look of disgust on Bill's face, but wasn't sure if it was genuine, or fuelled by several shots of alcohol. Bill had been drinking rather heavily since they arrived.

"'Choo poofters can't leave off for one night?" Bill's words were slurred, but Harry could still sense the venom behind them. He suddenly remembered Bill was rather outspoken in his homophobia, and cringed as he realised that he seemed to be itching for a fight. He sighed as he realised it was a futile hope to think that the night would go by without any problems.

"Not now, Bill, this is Ron's party, after all," he asked hopefully, but saw a few more eyes were now staring at him – and Charlie.

"Why not now? Certainly nobody wants to watch you and my brother getting all cosy with each other. It's disgusting." Bill's words were loud and a few other patrons at the bar overheard, and were quite vocal in their support to get rid of the 'poofters'. Bill continued. "I thought we agreed, Charlie, that you wouldn't flaunt your abnormality and embarrass the rest of the family, and I wouldn't try to hex your balls off."

"Bill... the Muggles!" Percy whispered rather loudly. Harry agreed. He really didn't want to be cleaning up after a mess in an overcrowded public bar. Charlie groaned.

Charlie rose and stood nose to nose with his brother. The pair were evenly matched physically, and Harry tried to crawl even further into the back of his chair. "I thought this was a family outing and we were here for Ron."

"It is a family outing, and Harry's practically family, Charlie. You're just a sick and twisted pervert." Harry had no idea what had made Bill so belligerent, but he could not discount the Muggle liquor. He realised, almost too late, that some wizards did not take well to Muggle alcohol in their systems. It made them more aggressive than normal.

Ron just giggled and snorted. "S'funny," he offered in a very drunken voice. The bar shots were finally starting to hit his system. Harry hoped the aggression wasn't going to show up in Ron as well.

George piped up to help quell any further disaster. "Ron, I really think you should probably lay off the alcohol for a bit. You have no idea what you're saying." He was firm. "You too, Bill."

"Why am I not surprised to see you taking their side. You faggots all stick together, don't 'choo? The only reason I'm drinking this Muggle piss is that this party is so boring. Where are the strippers? You should have trusted me to organise your stag party, Ronniekins. At least I know how a bloke wants to spend his last few nights of freedom."

Ron was still a little confused by everything going on around him. He tried to put on a stern face, but just ended up with a comically vacant stare. "Strippers?" he asked. "Where?"

Bill was still processing everything he'd already heard. "Sweet Merlin, Charlie. Can't you keep your hands to yourself? It's bad enough that you and George have to shove your abnormality in everyone's faces all the time. But cracking on to Harry is just plain sick. He doesn't want you breathing down his neck."

Ron laughed, "Charlie. Charlie and Harry. Doesn't matter Bill. Harry's told me in the strictest confidence they've already shagged. So really, it's all in the family. See?" Ron was trying to prove a point, but it had all come out wrong. Unfortunately, the only bit that Bill heard was the fact that Harry and Charlie had once shagged. Harry could not believe what he was hearing. He was suddenly regretting the fact that he had told Ron.

Charlie didn't seem too perturbed, but he was obviously more used to his older brother's prejudice. Bill looked at them incredulously. "Is that true, Charlie? Merlin, you're more disgusting than ever. Harry's so much younger than you. Filthy faggots." Bill was vehement in his words, but Harry really had not meant for this to get out of hand. Ron was more drunk than he had thought possible. Despite their difference of opinion, he knew Hermione would not be impressed if he ended up at home in worse condition than this.

For now, he wasn't thinking about that. He stood and tried politely to excuse himself. Taking a deep breath, he tried to remain calm. It would do no good for anyone if he let his temper get out of hand. He really didn't have to sit here and listen to this sort of abuse. Charlie might be immune to it, along with George and Lee, but Harry didn't need so-called friends suddenly turning on him.

"Running away, Harry?" Bill stood and was blocking his path.

"I'm sure you gents would have a much better time without my company." He turned and addressed Ron directly for the first time. "Ron, I'm sorry that your party has come to this and doesn't live up to your expectations. I was planning on taking you to a club around the corner after this, but it seems that some of the other guests would rather I leave." Ron stood up – very carefully, but was full of his usual bluster and bravado. Harry could see him trying to go for his wand, but forgetting he had left it at home.

"'Choo walkin' out on my party, Potter?" Harry would have thought the whole thing farcical had they not had their recent disagreement. Now his much larger and extremely aggressive older brother was now backing him up. Harry saw Ron face him down as he had seen him face Draco on countless occasions at school.

"Ron," Fred called out cautiously, "sit down before you make a scene in front of the Muggles. You're too shitfaced to win a fight. Especially with Harry."

As Harry tried to side step his way to the door, he could hear Charlie calling him back. He needed some space and in his hurry, he was jostled by a burly footballer at the bar. "Watch out you poncy little shirtlifter." Harry had no intention of starting a fight and mumbled, "Don't worry, I'm leaving." He was beginning to wonder if coming to this place was such a good idea.

He could hear Ron calling out behind him, "So, going back to your ferrety new best friend?"

Harry turned to look at Ron with deep regret. He was trying desperately to remember that Ron had been drinking heavily and was not fully responsible for what he was saying. Charlie and George were also standing, and he knew this was going to get very ugly if he didn't walk away. "I promised to leave Draco out of this tonight, Ron. But perhaps he will be more reasonable company than you. At least he has always had the balls to tell me honestly what he thought of me. You don't have to pretend to accept the fact I'm gay, Ron. You could at least just be respectful about it."

"'M perfectly capable, Harry, of doing my job. I don't need the likes of you tellin' me what I can and can't do. If I say Malfoy is a risk, then he's a risk. Why can't 'choo respect that?" Harry wondered for a moment what Ron was talking about, but realised he was continuing their argument from earlier in the week.

Harry rolled his eyes, "He's an innocent victim and if you weren't so stubborn you would see that he is no more a Neo Death Eater than I am." Harry's temper had been simmering for most of the night. He was still angry at Ron for his stubborn nature, and he had agreed that he wasn't going to drag their personal disagreement into a family gathering.

"Ron, that's enough," George and Fred were also very wary of creating a scene, but they had noticed the flickering lights in the bar and were fully aware of the full force of Harry's power when it got out of control.

Ron saw Harry's patronising eye roll, and fuelled by goodness knows how much Muggle alcohol, he suddenly became more aggressive. The sneer on his face was positively unpleasant and he was reminded of the way Ron usually spoke to Draco. "Oh, so you'd rather believe Malfoy now than me? I'm still not sure that he hasn't done something to make you feel this way, Harry." A light suddenly went off in Ron's head as he saw Lee holding on to George's waist. "Or is it that he's a stinking little bum fuck..."

Ron didn't get his sentence out because Harry's fist connected with his jaw. He was glad for the foresight that made him put his wand in his boot, for it was too far out of reach to get to easily. He would have hexed half of Ron's face off by now had he managed to get his wand in his hand. A good punch was the next best thing to shut him up. Unfortunately, he heard and felt the bone in his fist crack.

Ron staggered back a couple of steps – stunned. Harry seemed to be staring at his own fist, and the rest of the pub's patrons had silenced completely. Charlie was trying to grab Harry and hold him back, but it only gave Ron a perfect target for his own fist, which landed square on Harry's nose, thoroughly shattering his glasses.

--oo0oo--

Standing on the footpath a few minutes later, the entire party was unsurprised they had been kicked out of the pub. Lee, George and Charlie were tending to Harry as Bill, Percy and Fred were offering Ron comfort.

"I'm sorry about that, guys," Harry tried to apologise as the blood flowed freely through his nose. George surreptitiously brought out his wand and attempted to stem the bleeding.

Charlie snorted. Harry realised he was trying to suppress a laugh. "Oh, don't be sorry. I never realised until now just how much like Bill he is. I guess the Muggle booze brings out the best in his belligerent temper. What was all that about Malfoy?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, that's just a disagreement we've had for a while now." He looked over to check on Ron, but saw the burning hatred in his eyes. "Looks like I'm uninvited to the wedding, guys." He said dejectedly. Hermione would be thoroughly disappointed. This night could not have been any worse.

"Oh, don't worry about that, Harry, I think Ron will get what's coming to him. He didn't just insult you tonight, but all of us." George sighed. "I really hate it when Bill gets on his high horse. I have no idea why he's so homophobic, but I never guessed ickle Ronniekins would feel the same."

Harry shook his head. "Neither did I." He watched as Bill led Ron away down the street – in the direction of the strip club. He tried to feel some sympathy for his friend, but he just felt numb instead. Had Ron always felt so strongly about this, or was he just being a big man about it in front of his oldest brother?

How could Ron hide such strong feelings about this for so long? The more that he thought on it, the more he realised that Hermione had been quite vocal in her support, but Ron had been very silent. Could he have been pretending for all those years? Amazing how one little disagreement could lead Harry to see his best friend in a completely new light. But then again, Harry, you've managed to discover that Draco is completely different to the boy you thought you knew, too.

Harry shrugged, his head was hurting, as was his fist. He really got no satisfaction from hitting Ron, but that Weasley stubbornness was so infuriating.

The bleeding had stopped, but the pain was beginning to intensify. Charlie handed Harry back his glasses, which had been repaired. Unfortunately, his nose was now so swollen, he couldn't put them back on. "Don't let a little bust up like that worry you, Harry. He'll come round." Charlie examined Harry's nose more carefully and winced when Harry flinched in pain. "Merlin, are you all right? Little brother sure knows how to land a punch."

"Don't suppose you have any painkilling potion?" He asked hopefully.

"You need to get that looked at, Harry. You don't want to end up with a conk the size of Snape," George offered.

Charlie laughed, "Oh, I don't know, that might add a little bit of character." He handed a small vial to Harry, who downed the potion gratefully. It tasted horrible, and Harry knew from the taste that it was a commercially made painkiller. Ever since Draco had given him his own brewed painkiller potion, nothing else seemed quite the same.

"Thanks. I should probably head back. Sorry to have ruined the party," he said again.

"Ruined!" George exclaimed, "My dear you were the life of the party! I always hate those sorts of things. He was right about one thing. I would really love to gatecrash Hermione's hen's night. I hear that Ginny got her a couple of rather fit young fellows..." George tried desperately to waggle his eyebrows suggestively, but Harry could not help but laugh.

"Well I certainly don't feel like going home just yet," Lee said to George. "Why don't you and I head to that new club down the road? The one where we'll all feel a little more welcome."

Harry, feeling quite down, decided to skip the gay club. He really should have gone to St Mungo's (he doubted Poppy Pomfrey would have appreciated a late night call), but Charlie convinced him to share a couple more rounds of real drinks back in Hogsmeade.

Charlie started as he pushed the firewhisky in front of Harry. "Here, get that into you. That will make the pain go away, for sure." Harry's hand was now throbbing in pain and he wondered if he had done more damage to his wand hand that had only just healed. He snatched the glass with his left hand and quickly downed the drink. It burned down his throat and helped take the slight edge off his pain. It helped him to relax somewhat, which made him realise just how tense he had become.

"So, I noticed that you seemed quite irate that Ron was bagging Malfoy. I didn't think you and he were that close." Charlie raised an eyebrow as Harry nearly lost his mouthful of drink. "Is there anything you're not telling me, Harry?"

Harry ran his hands through his hair, and couldn't decide what to say to Charlie.

Charlie decided to answer for him after a very long and quiet pause, "Don't worry, I think I have some idea what is going on."

"Do you?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I've seen the way you've been watching each other – how you're both stepping around each other and pretending that nothing has happened. I'm not stupid. I also heard Remus muttering something the other day, and he seemed pleased," Charlie shrugged, "but I'm only guessing."

Harry seemed surprised that someone had been paying attention. "I didn't realise. Am I that transparent?"

"No, but I do have to confess that I might have wandered past the lavatory the other night during the staff party," it was Charlie's turn to blush and look away.

Harry blinked for a moment before he realised that Charlie must have overheard – or seen what he and Draco had been up to. "Oh."

"Oh indeed." Charlie smiled and put a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder. "Far be it for me to pass judgement, Harry. I'm just letting you know that if you want to talk to someone, then I'm always here."

"Thanks, Charlie." Harry was glad for that much, at least. He was staring down the barrel of the end of a friendship with Ron, and quite likely Hermione too, and he realised he needed all the friends he could get.

"Of course, if you want my opinion, the two of you are one fucking hot item." Harry couldn't see very well without his glasses, but he could tell Charlie's grin was genuine and so infectious that Harry could not help but laugh. The idea that someone had been watching was quite titillating. "D'you think all Slytherins are that good with their hands? Or is it just Potions masters?"

Harry was indeed having much more fun with Charlie.

--oo0oo--

June 27 – Friday

Unfortunately, he wasn't having that much fun the next morning. He remembered staggering back up to Hogwarts with Charlie some time in the early hours of Friday morning. Madame Rosmerta had shown the pair the door not long after closing time, but it took them an inordinately long time to make it back to the castle. It was not shaping up to be one of Harry's better days, and it had little to do with the raging hangover that he had been expecting. He remembered the punch that Ron threw that had connected with his nose, and the searing pain that followed. Of course, after downing Charlie's painkilling potion, he had found the pain bearable, but he was suffering now for that delay.

Daring to look into the mirror, he could not recognise the face that was staring back at him. Harry could still recall the sound of breaking bone as he recalled Ron's punch landing square. The two dark black eyes made him look like a startled racoon as he tried to blink in the dim light. His fist was swollen to twice its normal size, and he knew a trip to Pomfrey was inevitable.

Just as he was feeling human enough to head to the infirmary, a familiar ball of feathers came tearing in through the window and nearly bowled Harry over. He mistook Pig's exuberance for his usual excitement, but as he took the proffered envelope he recognising the Howler.

HARRY POTTER! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT? YOU PROMISED ME THAT RON WOULD RETURN HEX FREE! NOT ONLY DID HE COME HOME WITH A BROKEN JAW – THANKS TO YOU – BUT FRED THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE FUN TO THROW A HIRSUITUS HEX ON HIM AND NOW HE HAS NO HAIR! YOU DO REALISE THAT IT WON'T GROW BACK IN TIME FOR THE WEDDING!

The volume was slightly muffled as she must have been interrupted whilst charming the Howler...

AND DON'T THINK I'VE FINISHED WITH YOU RONALD BILLIUS WEASLEY. DON'T THINK THAT I HAVEN'T SENT A HOWLER TO NEARLY ALL YOUR BROTHERS! YOU'LL BOTH BE APOLOGISING AND SORTING OUT YOUR DIFFERENCES BEFORE TOMORROW, OR THERE ISN'T GOING TO BE A WEDDING! AND DON'T YOU EVEN THINK OF UNINVITING HARRY. HE IS GOING TO BE YOUR BEST MAN WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT. I DON'T CARE IF YOU DON'T TALK TO EACH OTHER, BUT YOU WILL ACT CIVILLY AT THE WEDDING, OR YOU'LL BOTH LOSE SOMETHING EXCEEDINGLY MORE VALUABLE WHEN I HEX YOU. I WANT HARRY TO STAND UP WITH US BECAUSE HE IS MY BEST FRIEND TOO.

I CAN'T BELIEVE THE TWO OF YOU ARE ACTING LIKE FOURTEEN YEAR OLDS! HONESTLY! Harry could hear the depth of her anger under her lecturing tone. He was disappointed in himself for letting his temper get the better of him, but he knew he was only partly to blame.

The Howler combusted in a huge ball of flame as Hermione's words were finally silenced. Pig had obviously listened as Hermione had created the Howler, for the small bundle of energy continued to hoot and holler in a similar tone. She ducked and wove around Harry in protest, venting her own anger and doing all she could to frustrate him. Harry was ready to strangle her, but knew it would do little to mend fences if he managed to kill Ron's beloved pet.

He reluctantly admitted that things had gone way too far with Ron, but he was still stunned and smarting from Ron's comments the night before. Ron had always seemed so understanding about Harry's sexuality, but he wondered why Ron had been reluctant to say what he really felt before now.

Then again, Bill's thoroughly biased attitude was blatantly obvious and he was undoubtedly influencing Ron to some degree. He wondered how their original disagreement about Draco could dissolve into such an argument. If Ron could get off his high horse long enough and stop his stupid pride from getting in the way, he would see that Harry was only trying to help someone. Why was he refusing to see that Draco was not the Death Eater he imagined?

Still, he could not help but smirk at the thought of Fred throwing hexes at Ron. Serves him right, Harry thought. I doubt Hermione has healed his jaw cleanly. I bet she left the pain on purpose to make him suffer. No doubt Pomfrey will do the same to me if I dare go up and see her. She really doesn't approve of mindless violence, even if it knocks some sense into a drunken pillock.

He doubted Charlie would be in any fit state to cast a Sobrietus. He knew Remus would be sympathetic to his plight had he been there, but just as he stepped out into the hallway, he looked up and saw Draco coming out of his room.

"Merlin, you look bloody awful, Harry." Draco sounded sincere, but had a smirk on his face. "Had a rough night? Or did you decide to get up close and personal with the front end of the Knight Bus?"

He tried to smile, but it hurt too much. "You could say that. I got in a fight."

"Was that Granger's dulcet tones I heard squealing at the top of her voice?" Draco moved over to get a closer look at Harry, and dragged him closer to the nearest window. The light in the hallway was quite dim and Draco was squinting without his reading glasses. "I didn't think you would let a Muggle get the better of you. Were you a little under the weather, or did you leave your wand at home?"

Harry was trying hard not to look Draco directly in the eye, for he could feel his piercing gaze. He wasn't sure if there was disapproval or humour in it, but he was trying very hard to ignore the fact that Draco was standing so very close. "No, it was Ron."

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked as he reached for his wand. "I always suspected he would fight dirty. Muggle tricks, huh? I hope you gave as good as you got."

Harry tried to smile and laugh, but ended up snorting inelegantly. "Don't worry, I doubt Hermione will heal him with a gentle touch."

Before he knew it, Draco had cast a Sobrietus charm, and Harry was feeling a little less light headed. Unfortunately, all the dulled pain from his nose was now back in full force.

"Now, I'm no Medi-Wizard, Harry, but I've done this before." Before Harry could protest, he felt Draco cup his face with both hands. He seemed to intently study Harry's face for a moment before bringing his wand up to touch the tip of the broken nose. Harry heard the softly muttered healing spell and the pain in his face worsened momentarily. He could feel the cartilage and bone realign and ground his teeth in protest. After a moment the pain became more subdued and the light became a little brighter as he could now open his eyes fully.

"There, that should do it. You still look like shit, Harry, but at least you won't end up with a nose like Severus." Draco smirked and Harry was a little disappointed when they broke their touch.

"Well then, I am more than indebted to you," Harry laughed and tried a genuine smile.

"So, what on earth could have given the Weasel a reason to hit you?" Draco asked.

Harry thought about it, and realised that his frustration with Ron might have started out with his refusal to let Draco visit the Manor, but after the stag party, he knew there was a lot more there that they would need to work out. "Oh, he's just being more stubborn than usual. We had a little disagreement and I guess I really don't know him as well as I thought."

Draco cleared his throat and coughed. "Yes, it's amazing what you discover about people just when you think you have them all figured out."

Harry looked at Draco in complete surprise. "Yes, quite." He returned the warm smile.

--oo0oo--

Madame Pomfrey had grudgingly healed Harry's hand, but luckily the bones were not broken, so it was as good as new. She didn't offer any more painkillers for his nose, but did glower severely in disapproval at him. Grateful to have avoided a lecture with her, he knew he had to see Hermione and Ron. It was not something he could avoid.

After Flooing to London, he spent most of the afternoon staring awkwardly at the rug by the fireplace as Hermione gave both him and Ron a dressing down. Ron looked just as bad as Harry felt, with his lower jaw puffed out like a balloon, but it was the fact that she was forcing them to apologise that was hardest.

Ron did look quite comical with his bald head. Fred had done a complete job on hexing every hair. Harry could not help but be amused by the fact his head was also freckled, but his amusement was short lived as he remembered Ron's scathing words.

Ron seemed apologetic and admitted that his words were fuelled by a little too much alcohol, but he also admitted for the first time that he had always struggled with Harry's lifestyle choices. Hermione had tried to make him see that Harry really had no choice in the matter, and that was a fundamental part of who he was. He admitted to the vain hope that Harry might one day change his mind and eventually marry his little sister – if only to stop her and her man eating ways. Fortunately, Ginny had put paid to that when she told Ron in no uncertain terms that she would not even consider being with Harry even if he were heterosexual and available.

He also admitted that he was mostly jealous of the fact that Harry seemed to have become friends with Malfoy. This was most likely the crux of their whole disagreement. Knowing what he knew, he realised this was going to be much harder for Ron to deal with, especially if his relationship with Draco became even closer.

Harry apologised to Ron for being overbearing about his work. He knew Ron was very good at his job and that he would try to respect the decision he had made in Draco's case. Harry promised he would, if Ron was sure that he had Draco's best interests at heart when making the decision, and not letting his own bias cloud his judgement.

Ron seemed a little reluctant on that point, but at least they had (under Hermione's scrutiny) managed to patch up most of their friendship. But it wasn't quite that simple. The crack in their friendship had left a permanent mark that would always be there despite the repairs. He was happy that he could be there for his friends on their wedding day, but now he knew that there was a slight rift that would separate him from them forever.

Saturday dawned clear and warm. The traditional family ceremony was to be held at The Burrow. Apparently Hermione had given all of Ron's brothers a similar dressing down, and Bill seemed quite subdued as he arrived for the wedding. Harry did not fail to notice the distance between him and Charlie throughout the celebration, but all of Ron's brothers seemed to be on their best behaviour.

Harry had discovered that he had butterflies in his stomach, and he wasn't even the one getting married. Harry had not seen Ron in such a blind panic since the day of the sorting hat – half a lifetime ago. The pair had faced many battles together, but Harry knew this one was for Ron alone. In a way he was quite relieved.

"Come on, Ron. You've fought Trolls and Death Eaters. Surely this can't be worse?" Harry tried to lighten the mood. Ron seemed somewhat grateful. They were still a little stiff in each other's company, but Harry knew that only time would help in that regard.

"Easy for you to say, Harry. You're never going to have to do this."

"What, get married? Who knows," he smiled knowingly and Ron's eyes widened in both fear and apprehension.

"Hermione loves you very much, Ron. I have no idea why, but she does."

"She really does, doesn't she?" Ron could scarcely believe it himself.

Harry was genuinely happy for his friends. He tried to straighten the tie on Ron's robes. "Look, Ron, I do want what you and Hermione have. I would find myself quite content to find that special someone and share my life with him. We all want that. It just happens that my special someone won't be a woman. And definitely not your little sister."

Ron nodded absently, his mind obviously quite distracted by nerves. His face was somewhat green, and if Harry had not known any better, he would say he was about to start belching slugs. In a final bid to distract Ron, he knew what would really throw him into a spin. "Even Charlie has said he's ready to settle down."

"Charlie's found someone?" Ron tried not to sound too interested, but Harry did give him a genuine smile.

Oh Ron, if only you knew the half of it. I really don't want to be around you if Charlie ever manages to convince Snape to come home and 'meet the family'. The thought of that really made Harry grin, and he used that to help him make a somewhat agreeable truce with his oldest friend. "I'll let him tell you all about it."

Ron took a deep breath and looked out the window. He started rocking back and forth in nervous anticipation.

"Well, Ron, it's time."

--oo0oo--

The ceremony was beautiful. Molly cried, Ginny cried, Hermione was aglow and Harry admitted later to a few moist lashes. As head of the family, Arthur performed the traditional wizarding hand fasting. Normally, Hermione's father would have completed the ceremony, but since he was a Muggle, Arthur performed it all. Mr and Mrs Granger were there, but the rest of Hermione's Muggle acquaintances would be at the Registry Office for a repeat performance later in the day.

For a few hours during the day, Harry nearly forgot the unpleasantness that had recently passed. He did feel a little bittersweet to know that things were going to get a whole lot more complicated with Ron if things with Draco... well if things with Draco...

Harry spent an inordinate amount of time during the day thinking about Draco. He knew that things with him were only going to become more intense now that he had finally realised the truth. He had found his soul mate and was in love. He wished he could be there right now to share in the wonder of the day, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that things with Draco were going to be smooth sailing. He could only begin to imagine the palaver that would go on with Ron if... when he and Draco managed to sort out their lives.

Harry's secret smile was not truly for the bride and groom. It was for the realisation that Draco was Luc, and that for the first time, he really could see himself spending his life as Draco Malfoy's soul mate. Heart and soul and... well, everything.

--oo0oo--

June 29 - Sunday

"Ron?"

"Hmmm?" Ron was lazing with his head in Hermione's lap as they enjoyed the warm sunshine and fresh air in Southern France. Even Ron had to (reluctantly) admit that Harry had chosen a perfectly wonderful place for their honeymoon. He might have been shite at organising a stag party, but Harry did know a thing or two about a quiet and romantic getaway, but he couldn't bring himself to think about such things at the moment. Hermione's hand was absently rubbing the fuzz of hair that was regrowing on his head as Ron had been lazily fidgeting with Hermione's wedding band. He was still trying to get used to the weight of his own. Hermione could only smile every time she caught him unconsciously grinning as he did so.

He had fallen asleep under the gigantic tree in the grounds of the chateau with his head in her lap. As he dozed, Hermione was enjoying one of the books from the chateau's copious collection. Ron had no problem with that. They were all written in French, and his mastery of the language started and ended with the names of the local foods, of which there were plenty.

"I know the last thing you want to talk about is Harry," Hermione began. Ron scowled. "But, do you remember who recommended this place to him?"

Ron opened one eye and looked at his wife. "Fancy a place like this, do you Mrs Weasley?"

Hermione swatted him playfully and rolled her eyesm but continued her questions. "Did he mention anything to you about the owner?"

"Actually, he did. When he gave me the portkey, he said that a very close friend had recommended it to him."

"Oh, that would be this Luc fellow – the one who he writes to in his journal?" Hermione asked keenly.

Ron shrugged. "I suppose so."

"Do you think there's more going on there than we know?" Hermione was dogging Ron with questions he didn't really want to think about, let alone answer. He thought they had an understanding that Harry wasn't coming along with them on this occasion.

"Why the sudden interrogation? What bee have you got in your bonnet now, Mrs Weasley?"

Hermione scowled thoughtfully, "We're going to discuss this Mrs Weasley business later, Ron. I'm just really worried about Harry - and not because of what happened the other night. He's either bottling things up quite madly, or he's no longer confiding in us like he used to."

Ron snorted bitterly, "Well he's certainly cosy with Malfoy these days." He saw the disapproving glare on Hermione's face. "Sorry, I promised I wasn't going to talk about him, didn't I?"

Hermione ignored him and continued. "You know, didn't Harry say that this Luc character owned a place in this part of the world?"

"I honestly can't remember. I suppose he did. Why are we playing 20 questions, my dear? You know I'd much rather be playing..."

Hermione swatted away his hand and sat up further. "No, Ron. I've just realised something." She indicated the book she had been reading. "You say that Harry's pen pal, Luc, owns a place in this part of France. Harry's been friendlier with Draco, and he's not confiding in us as much as he used to."

Ron nodded in agreement, but could not see where this was going. He knew better than to interrupt his wife in the middle of a thought connection.

"And according to Francois' French Wizarding Peerage," she waved the book under Ron's nose, "It would seem that we are currently guests at the estate of one Draco Lucien Darien Malfoy."

Ron sat up straight and looked at Hermione. "That is not a funny joke, love."

Hermione was adamant. "It's no joke! Look it says it right here – and this is a wizarding publication, so it's self updating."

Ron just stared at the meaningless French on the page, with Draco's name printed blankly in the middle of the page. He believed Hermione. A sudden flashback to his knowledge of Malfoy's financial affairs made him recall the fact that Malfoy did indeed own outright a chateau in the south of France.

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed.

"I know, you do realise the connection now?" Hermione thought Ron made the same connection she did.

"This is bloody brilliant!" He cried.

"What? It's brilliant that this mysterious pen friend of Harry's must be Draco? And that Harry must know, and that's why he's been so keen to help him?"

The smug grin on Ron's face suddenly fell. "What?"

"Well that is the logical conclusion, isn't it? This guy he's been writing to must be Draco. Ron, can't you see? Harry's found himself confiding in Draco Malfoy!" she sounded a little exasperated.

Ron grabbed her and started to kiss her fervently.

"Ron! Aren't you the least bit concerned about that?" She tried to break away from his amorous advances, but he was too strong, and she was only putting in a half hearted effort.

"Harry's old enough to get out of his own messes, 'Mione. If he can kill a Dark Lord, then he can sort out his own tangled love life." The feral grin was back on his face as he spoke.

"Besides," he helped Hermione up and began to lead her back towards the chateau, "If this is Malfoy's house, then I think we should use every moment of our time wisely. There's plenty of rooms in there that need christening. I think I'd like to see just how much of Malfoy's furniture we can debauch along the way."

It was many hours later when the implications of what Hermione discovered finally hit Ron. He sat straight up in bed as if waking from a particularly nasty nightmare.

"Harry and Malfoy? But... but I was only joking! Bloody hell!"

--oo0oo--

Sunday wasn't one of Harry's better days either. He was still feeling a little deflated after the wedding. The rift between him and Ron was healed, but Harry knew things might never be the same again. He was thrilled that his friends had finally married after a courtship that was half a lifetime in the making, but he didn't quite have the same sense of joy that he might have once had. Being without Ron's friendship was something Harry didn't want to think about. Even if they were somehow moving apart, one thought had sustained him throughout the wedding. The fact that he had finally realised that he wanted to share his life with Luc – with Draco – had been a poignant moment.

Of course, now he faced the battle of trying to make Draco see him for who he truly was, without giving away anything through the journal.

The cursed journal.

Writing had never been so difficult. It took a lot of control not to let anything slip as he wrote. He knew that if he continued to talk to him with his current knowledge, he was likely to slip up and Draco would eventually find out, making for a nasty state of affairs.

He wondered how the magic of the journals could make him write truthfully from his heart, but it allowed him to 'lie' and refer to Draco as Luc. Perhaps it was still because he thought of him as Luc. It helped that he thought of 'Draco' as being just another of the masks he wore. But it was a valid fear that he might accidentally slip and call him Draco in the middle of a chat, and that would just not do.

Knowing that Draco trusted him was very important. That trust had been gained over months and months, and the guilt was just too much. No matter how much he wanted to talk to Luc, he lost his nerve at the last minute and couldn't go through with it. He quickly penned a short note to Luc stating that he was going to be busy. It made him feel positively awful, but he would try and garner enough courage to write something to him next week. Who knew, Draco might even know the truth by then.

--oo0oo--

Of course, Draco saw the polite brush off as confirmation of his worst fears. His deepest, darkest secret had been too much for Flash, and he had expected this.

Why should Flash be any different to any other wizard who survived the war? Draco suspected he had already done his research and discovered his identity, making it all the more easy to make excuses and avoid him in the journal.

Draco wrote a polite reply, fully understanding Flash's busy schedule. He hoped they would chat next week. He highly doubted it would eventuate.

He spent the rest of the night staring into the fire. Not even Petite Amie's warmth could diminish the chill that grew inside.

--oo0oo--

Draco felt he had nothing left but to bury himself back in his work - again. The sheer routine of constantly brewing kept him calm, along with his new habit of surreptitiously watch Harry in the courtyard as he worked on his meditations. Draco wondered briefly if he should start something like that, but his mood was too apathetic to contemplate it for long.

He had not failed to note that Harry seemed somewhat more wistful, even though he sensed that he was probably avoiding him too. It concerned him to think that Harry had fought with Weasley, but he had not run into Harry again since their little encounter in the hall. First Flash, now Harry. It seems that I'm obviously losing friends as quickly as I'm making them. I am definitely cursed. He might not have been talking to him in person, but he was certainly spending most of his dream time in Harry's company. At times, he thought he was making love to Flash, but when he looked down, all he could see was messy dark hair, and Harry staring back at him longingly.

Without the benefit of a school schedule, Draco could barely remember what day of the week it was and the days were running together. Just as long as Harry was there doing his Tai Chi in the mornings, Draco knew he was going to make it through the day.

His correspondence with Arianna was a bright spot during such a bleak time. He really did miss her quick wit and bubbly personality. News about people he knew and snippets from the French papers made him feel a little homesick. Arianna said she missed Emmaline dreadfully, but Draco doubted that highly, for she continued to make mention of a man in one of her summer classes. She seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time writing about him, and that made Draco smile.

Hearing about Paris and feeling homesick would invariably send him down to spend an hour or two with Emmaline. It was the closest he would get to being there, and at times like this he wished for his apprenticeship to be well and truly over. At least his chateau had been leased for almost the entire summer, which gave him quite a few extra Galleons in his purse. A few years earlier and Draco would have baulked at the amount of money he now lived on, but he really had no other choice, and there was no point in complaining about it.

Although the moment he could lay his hands on his inheritance, things would change considerably. He might have lost considerable millions to the Neo Death Eaters, but if Weasley would do his job properly and stop being petty, his fortune might nearly reach its former level by the time he turned 25. It wasn't the first time he thought about getting rid of Weasley and having someone else look after his affairs. He doubted the weasel was looking out for the Malfoy estate's best interests. It was grating, to say the least.

Perhaps then someone would allow him access to his Grand-père's lab at the Manor. He was frustrated, not by Weasley's refusal to let him go there, but by the fact he wasn't sure if he would actually find what he was looking for. There was only a possibility that there were any Pegasus Wingtips in the lab. He didn't want to have his hopes up for another two years, only to discover that it had all been in vain.

--oo0oo--

Draco sat back in the cool shadows of the Leaf and Bean. The summer sun was always welcome in Scotland, but a few days of it and everyone was complaining of the stifling heat. Draco's robes were spelled with a cooling charm, but even so, it was somewhat stuffy and stifling in Emmaline's little corner of the world.

"Bonjour, Draco," the voice came from nowhere and startled Draco from his comfortable musings, making him jump in his seat. He was not quite as vigilant as he should have been, but even after all this time the sound of Jean-Paul's voice could still make him pliant and weak willed. Fortunately, he was too stunned to notice the latter.

"J... Jean-Paul. Qu'est-ce que vous faites ici? What are you doing here?" He dared to meet Jean-Paul's eyes and saw so much he had forgotten about his last lover. The sound of his voice was familiar, but the feel of the hand on his shoulder and the crinkle of laugh lines around his smile had been forgotten.

Jean-Paul politely queried if he could sit down and Draco nodded, still too stunned by his sudden appearance to disagree. "Oh, I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd drop by on my crazy old Aunt who suddenly decided to pack up her life and move to Scotland. I needed to see for myself that she was looking after herself."

"Oh," for a split second, he thought that Jean-Paul might have come to see him alone, but after his current disastrous run of bad luck, he knew better than to voice such a ridiculous fancy.

"But, when I found out that she was following you, I had even more reason to come." Draco could see the raw honesty behind Jean-Paul's words, and for a moment his heart warmed.

"But what about your work – won't the Sheik..."

Jean-Paul waved the conversation away. "The Sheik has passed away. In the end... I could not save him. My services are no longer required. I find myself now at a loose end. I thought I should do some travelling, visit my beloved Aunt, mend a few fences." Draco knew that his last words were directed at him.

Draco didn't really know what to say. He never thought he would see Jean-Paul again, despite numerous occasions where he thought he would try to contact him. Seeing him right there, just after he had decided that that chapter of his life was definitely over, was most disconcerting.

Jean-Paul noted the worried look on Draco's face. "I'm not here to start anything, Draco. Not unless..." he waved the thought away, "but we never did get to say goodbye properly. I thought I should make it up to you for that. How about some dinner on Sunday night – purely as friends?"

Draco was speechless. Just when he was feeling down from his lack of contact with Flash, Jean-Paul walked right back into his life. He really did need someone to talk to. He agreed, after only the slightest of hesitations, but quickly wondered if he had done the right thing.

Jean-Paul smiled at the acceptance and grabbed Draco's hand firmly. The warmth of Jean-Paul's touch was more than welcome. It had been too long. As soon as it was felt, it was quickly gone, only to be replaced by a quick peck on the cheek. "I have to dash, sorry, mon ami. But I look forward to dinner. There's things we need to... discuss."

As quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared, leaving Draco confused, bereft and in quite a quandary as he watched Jean-Paul walk out onto the street. That brief touch brought back such vivid memories of their more intimate moments together in Marrakesh. It confused him because as he left he recalled the touch of Jean-Paul's hands – hands that he had dreamt about now for months. Only now he wondered why they didn't feel like they ought to. Where were those familiar calluses - calluses formed from many hours gripping a broom. His parting thought as he watched Jean-Paul leave was not whether he did the right thing by accepting the invitation, but if Jean-Paul's arse would look as good as Harry's in a pair of jeans.

He couldn't be sure. All he knew was that it was a question that begged to be answered.

--oo0oo--

As he left the Leaf and Bean to return to the castle, doubt struck and he wondered if he had been too hasty. Why had Jean-Paul suddenly reappeared just when he was completely over him and was ready to embark on something new?

Draco had no idea what to do, and in his musings found himself wandering past the school greenhouses. He noticed Harry was working inside, but he could not understand why his feet took a detour in that direction. Harry looked like he had been working hard – his sleeves were rolled up and he had a smudge of dirt on his face. The last of the bruising from his broken nose was beginning to fade, but Draco watched closely as Harry took care in tending to the new rows and pots of herbs. As hard as he tried not to, he spent nearly all his time watching Harry through the window.

He was unsure of where things stood between them since the night of the staff party. Even though Draco had helped him the morning after his punch-up with Ron, Harry was still seemed somewhat hesitant. Still, he didn't blame him. After all, he didn't expect wine and roses - not after so many years of fervent animosity. Despite this hesitancy, he noticed that the animosity was now gone, and for that he was glad. As he thought about Harry and Jean-Paul, he wondered exactly what it was that he wanted from Harry. Did he want something - anything? It was all too confusing.

With nothing better to do, Draco tended to a number of shrubs and vines that needed pruning. Quite a few herbs could be picked and dried, so Draco lost his thoughts amongst the mindless task. Of course, it gave him a perfect vantage point to quietly watch Harry at his own work. He was impressed to note that Harry was no slouch when it came to tending to his herbs - he knew exactly where to pinch the stems to encourage new regrowth and not destroy the plants. It was quite startling to discover things he never knew about Harry. He seemed to know his way around the non-magical herb garden quite well.

"Hi Draco," Harry sounded cheerful as he mopped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, and pushed his glasses up his nose, all without letting his hands touch his face. Draco was suddenly startled out of his daydreaming. Harry's wand was in the back pocket of his jeans, sticking out at a precarious angle. Draco found that quite a charming and innocent look, for he certainly seemed quite happy as he worked. Harry seemed quite calm and serene, which helped him to feel a little more at ease. He smiled and continued the conversation.

"So you're the guilty party? I wondered who was cooking up a storm all week." Draco sniffed at the aromatic herbs in the air and correlated them to the wonderful scents that came wafting in through his window late in the evenings.

Harry smiled warmly, "Yeah, that would be me."

"I never imagined you could cook, Harry. You were so crap at Potions." Draco began plucking ripe shrivelfigs from the vine as he chatted.

Harry shrugged, "Oh, well, I suppose it's a bit similar, but I know it's not going to blow up in my face if the ingredients are a little out of balance. I just add more of something else. But isn't it great we have these kitchens?" Harry seemed quite pleased by the idea. "I'm planning on keeping mine after school resumes."

"I admit it's not a bad idea. So long as I have my morning coffee when I wake up, things will be great." Harry smiled at that comment and Draco had to admit it wasn't so difficult to talk to him any more. He appreciated the fact that his apology was accepted, and he was even more grateful that Harry had the decency not to mention their activities in the lavatory. He still wasn't sure what had come over him at the time, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to acknowledge it publicly. Right about now, he would have dearly loved to talk to Flash, but a scowl crossed his face at the thought. He doubted he would be hearing much from him again.

"Draco, what's wrong?" Harry asked. It seemed he had been watching and had seen the sudden darkness cross his face as he thought of Flash. "You look like you just remembered some bad news."

Draco shrugged it off. "Oh, it's nothing for you to worry about."

Harry didn't fail to notice Draco's sullen preoccupation as they talked amiably. He had no idea what was wrong, but he recognised the look of concern on the blond's face. He wondered what could be worrying Draco to such an extent. Could it be something about his access to the Manor? Harry had no idea. Again he felt the guilt for fobbing off their chat and promised himself he would be there for Luc that Sunday night.

Draco needed someone to talk to – of that Harry was sure. Inspiration struck, but he hesitated before carefully broaching the subject. "You know, you're welcome to come over for dinner any night. You can pick my cooking to pieces if you like and cast aspersions upon my skill with a saucepan. There are a few recipes I'd like to try, but I just wish I could get this coriander to grow properly. It's used to a much warmer climate." He sighed in frustration as he looked at the limp and dying plant.

"Have you ever thought about putting a Revivicus charm on it?" Draco suggested. Harry noticed that Draco didn't react to or specifically answer his dinner invitation.

"How about Sunday night?" Harry could not help himself. He thought the idea of dinner with Draco would help ease him into spending some time later writing in the journal.

Draco sounded somewhat disappointed,"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry, but I've got plans on Sunday with an old friend. He's coming to Hogsmeade to visit his aunt. It's Emmaline's nephew, actually."

Harry was stunned. Emmaline's nephew – why that's Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul is coming to town? And he's having dinner with Draco?

"Oh," Harry said dejectedly. "I didn't realise. Sorry. We could perhaps make it some other time." Harry hid the hint of jealousy that crept into his voice. He didn't think Jean-Paul would ever rear his head again. This definitely complicated things. He knew exactly what Draco thought of Jean-Paul, and he was immediately quite put out by the news. He turned and concentrated on the herbs before him, not really paying attention to what he was doing. Pulling his wand from his back pocket, he cast the Revivicus charm. The coriander bush thrived and the leaves seemed full of life.

Harry quickly changed the subject to get away from all thoughts of Jean-Paul. Draco was obviously not brooding over things if he thought about having dinner with the man who had been so important to him. For a moment Harry wondered if he had left things too late. He needed to get away from the subject. "So is Snape enjoying his holiday?" Harry knew that Charlie had been the cause of the Potion master's sudden departure from the castle.

Draco quirked the corner of his mouth in a wry smile. "I think he is. I doubt he's being chased by an oversexed Weasley with a penchant for Dragons."

"Yeah, Charlie can be quite persistent when he tries. Still, I have no idea what he sees in Snape."

Draco actually laughed. Harry had not seen Draco laugh so openly before - not without any malice behind it. "Don't look at me, I have no idea either. I mean Severus is a great friend and mentor, but I can't even begin to think about..." a shiver ran down Draco's back, and it must have gone down Harry's at the same time. They laughed together.

"As much as I hate to say it, he will probably be very good for Severus, but you didn't hear that from me."

"Right, just like you didn't hear from me that Charlie's already got his plan of attack set out. Don't underestimate Charlie and his plans. He's a man who knows what he wants and will stop at nothing to get it. I doubt Snape has a chance."

--oo0oo--

Draco had been surprised at Harry's dinner invitation, and he would have most likely joined him had he not already accepted Jean-Paul's invitation. He didn't realise the pang of regret that would accompany the fact he had to decline Harry's offer. Draco wondered why he was looking forward so much to Jean-Paul's visit. Was it the fact that he missed his touch, or the fact that he needed someone he could talk to? He had no idea, but it was times like this he really needed to talk to Flash, and more than once he thought about just writing down his feelings, but he felt too self conscious. He had even pondered the idea of talking to Harry, but he didn't want to spoil what they had so far - whatever it was that they were sharing.

A letter from Severus on Saturday came as a complete surprise. Naturally, it gave away no detail of where he was and what he was doing. The parchment had been charmed to prevent it being traced. The only thing he said that gave away his feelings was the fact that he mentioned Charlie Weasley in the letter.

If you see that good for nothing flashy Dragon tamer who has the gall to think of himself as a teacher, just let him know that whilst flattered by his offer, I am not interested in his advances.

You can tell him yourself. I'm not your bloody messenger service. Still, the fact that you mentioned him means he has gotten to you. Draco could not help but smirk at that. He will do you good, Severus. But he did frown as he read the last part of the letter.

I felt it prudent to advise you of the fact that I saw a couple of your old school acquaintances this past week. Don't worry, they did not see me. I thought I might keep myself busy by applying some old skills to keep an eye on them. Mr Nott was never the observant one, and Mr Flint, well, when he's not on a broom, he really hasn't got a clue. Stay alert, Draco. Remember your lessons. They'll hold you in good stead. I'll keep you posted.

Draco frowned. He had seen some Neo Death Eaters and he hadn't mentioned where he was? What in Merlin's name are you thinking, Severus? You must be mad. Of course I remember everything you taught me, I'm not stupid!

He thought long and hard before penning a reply. He had no idea where Severus was, but Melchett seemed to know where to go when Draco handed him the scroll.

Severus, Why does my divinatory sense tell me that you really aren't having a holiday and that you have taken it upon yourself to seek out our old acquaintances? If this is the case, then I can see that senility has taken hold early. You must be mad to think you can do this on your own. Where are you and what have you gotten yourself into? If Nott and Flint are around, then you can bet that the rest of the gang are nearby. Those two could never be trusted on a short leash. I don't doubt that you are staying far away, but just be careful! Please! Relax, Severus. Enjoy your holiday. You know, that's why people usually have a holiday – to enjoy themselves. Have you contacted the Aurors? Should I make mention of what you've seen to Dumbledore? Do be careful. I'd hate to have to tell the dragon tamer of your untimely demise. Draco

--oo0oo--

Draco now added his concern about Severus to his quandary about Jean-Paul and Harry and life in general. His confused feelings needed some sorting out, but try as he might, he reluctantly admitted that writing to Flash was the only way to sort them out.

He picked up and put down his quill a half dozen times. Should he really be bothering Flash any more? He knew that the polite brush off was just a way of trying to ease off on their friendship. Eventually he decided that he needed to just put the quill to the page and write. If Flash didn't read it, then he would just keep it and use it just like a normal journal. He still felt somewhat attached to the actual book, despite the fact that Flash was keeping his distance.

Something comforting came over him as his quill touched the page and he soon found his voice.

Bonjour Flash, Now I know how we said that we would write on Sunday nights, but I find myself worrying over a few things today and as I had a loose end I thought I would write them down before they festered any longer. I did miss our chat last week, but I do understand when you have a busy schedule. Things have been somewhat strange these past couple of weeks. It could have an awful lot to do with the fact that with school holidays, this place is deathly quiet. There are only a few people still here for the summer; myself and Mr-Former-Burning-Hatred being two of them. I'm going to have to come up with a better name for him now. I don't hate him any more and things are actually quite... congenial. I guess we have both been allowing each other space after our little indiscretions in the lavatory the other week. We have managed a couple of civil conversations. He's made absolutely no mention of my apology, but he's acting as if he's accepted it – with no questions. I'm not used to people doing that. But of course, now that I've entrusted you with my deepest secret, you can probably understand why I find acceptance difficult from those who have known me for a long time. He's still featuring quite heavily in my dreams and I have to admit that I did manage to get quite a good look the other day whilst he was pottering around in the greenhouse. What it is about sweat and dirt that makes for much greater viewing pleasure? He has a penchant for wearing Muggle clothing, which I have recently come to find quite comfortable – both to wear and to watch. My apprentice robes are ghastly and itchy and have too many buttons. The only thing they really have going for them is the fact they have those protective spells woven into the fabric. I really didn't want to say much about him, but now I'm rambling on, aren't I? Actually, I'm more concerned for my mentor. He has gone on holidays, as I said, but he's just mentioned that he's spotted a few of our old wartime acquaintances. I'm quite certain they are tied up with these Neo Death Eaters, but he's not telling me where he's gone or what he's up to. I do worry about him. I'm not sure if I should tell anyone about his run in with these fools. Should I tell the Aurors – the bunch of incompetents that they are? Or do I tell the Fiscal Investigative Goblins who have been keeping my funds frozen whilst they investigate whether or not I'm associated with these Neo Death Eaters? That's something that I thought was going to settle down, but it seems one of the bank's representatives is a wretched git who I haven't been able to stand since our school days. He's taking great pleasure in the fact I'm in this destitute situation, and he's getting off on the power trip of denying me a few simple requests. My family property is here in the UK, and it's currently inaccessible to anyone, myself in particular. I need to get into my Grand-père's potions lab to check for the existence of an extremely rare ingredient. I just need to know if it's there or not. He's being unreasonable and I'm trying not to let his childish refusal get to me. I just want to find out if the ingredients are there so I can move on. Just to complicate things, he's best friends with Mr-Looks-Great-in-Sweaty-Clothing. Unfortunately, they've had a bit of a row, and I have an awful feeling that it might have something to do with me. It's just a hunch – call it my own divinatory sense at work. It's only a suspicion, but I don't know why he would want to defend me. I never asked for it. It's flattering to think that he would help (being helpful is in his nature – he was a Gryffindor after all... I can only assume you went to Hogwarts and will have some idea of the nature of Gryffindors), and I honestly don't know how I could repay him. The last thing I want is for him to argue with his friend. Still, his friend is a first class git and a thorn in my side and I wish he could see common sense. I'm trying to be open and up front about everything, and he's taking great pleasure in denying everything. Which takes me to the most confusing thing about this week. Mr-Looks-Great-in-Jeans actually invited me to dinner. I can't believe he asked. I don't know if he'll ask again, because I turned him down. Why? Well, you wouldn't believe just how complicated things have suddenly become. I discovered that Jean-Paul is in town. He's not specifically here to see me, but I couldn't very well say no when he invited me to dinner, so it looks like I will be meeting up with him again. I don't know how I feel about that right now, but confusion comes to mind quite readily. Unfortunately the dinner invitation was for the same night. I know he was disappointed by my knock back. I won't say that I was glad to see Jean-Paul, but I won't say that I was upset by it, either. No matter how many times I tell myself that I am over Jean-Paul, I still have this nagging sense of doubt about whether or not I did the right thing. I should not have left him the way I did. It was stupid, but now I need to do it properly. I need to be sure that I did the right thing. Yet again I'm turning something into a gigantic melodrama. See. Now I'm glad I put quill to paper, even if you aren't there at the other end. It has at least helped me to sort out my confused thoughts and lead me to the conclusion that I will just have to wait and see what the immediate future holds. I probably won't get a chance to be around later, but if you get a chance, please just write and say hello. Au Revoir,
Luc

Draco realised how desperate that sounded, but there was little he could do to erase it now. He closed the journal after signing off. He had no idea if Flash would even bother to read it again, but at least Draco felt better for getting his thoughts down on parchment. If Flash bothered to reply, it would be a bonus. But he wouldn't hold his breath waiting for that to happen.

--oo0oo--

Harry closed his journal. He still could not believe that Jean-Paul was in town. It was something to note that Draco had not expected it either, but nevertheless, he felt a surge of unwarranted jealousy. He felt guilty for not being there for Draco when he wrote, but if he were being completely honest, he probably would have let the secret out if he had been there to reply to Draco. Of that he was sure. Severus' run-in with the Neo Death Eaters was a concern, and he made a mental note to inform the headmaster as soon as possible.

Emmaline's words about Draco returned to him. He needs to find out the truth on his own. Harry didn't want to risk affecting that. Although knowing Jean-Paul's reputation, he wondered if Draco would be placing affection in the wrong direction. For the first time he wondered if Jean-Paul was too good to be true. He wondered if his intentions were as honourable as they seemed. The idea of Jean-Paul and Neo Death Eaters together was something he had not contemplated before, but it was something he could not dismiss. Too many years of Auror training made him look for patterns in things that might not be instantly obvious. Could Jean-Paul be some sort of Neo Death Eater operative? They did, after all, have an inordinate fascination with Draco's estate. It was something that bore much thought.

But more importantly, Harry wondered if he had left things a little too late. Was it too late to let Draco know that he was still interested, and how was he going to do that with the awesome spectre of Jean-Paul lurking around?

--oo0oo--

July 6 - Sunday

It was not sheer coincidence that led Harry to be at the Three Broomsticks on Sunday evening. Without a dinner companion, Harry wandered down to Charlie's rooms to see if he would like to share a meal. The pub was Charlie's first suggestion, and they took a quiet stroll down to the village.

Harry knew from talking to Charlie that Ron and Hermione had returned from France, but he felt a little awkward contacting them. He would wait a while longer before contacting them. He tried to tell himself that it was because they would appreciate the time alone, but he knew it was for deeper reasons than that.

He felt a keen friendship brewing with Charlie; the sort of friendship that had been missing with Ron for a while. Of course, it helped that Charlie could see things in the same way as Harry. Staring at a cute wizard as he passed was something they could both share together. Charlie Weasley was definitely a member of Harry's Anam Cara.

Talk over their quiet dinner at the pub invariably returned to the topic of Severus Snape. "I honestly can't think of one single redeeming feature, Charlie. What do you see in him?" Harry pondered aloud.

Charlie grinned around the mouth of his butterbeer bottle. "It's not all about looks, Harry. There's his voice, for starters."

Harry shrugged. "So?"

"Couldn't you just imagine what that voice could do to you... whispering all sorts of impure things at you..."

"Enough already!" Harry covered his ears. "I really shouldn't have brought up the subject, should I?"

Charlie smirked, "Too right. Still, when he comes back from his holiday, I'll be here and he hasn't seen persistence. I can wait. It will all be worth it." Harry didn't know if he should mention anything to Charlie about Severus' meeting with the Neo Death Eaters, but before he could say a word, Charlie continued his banter. "Ooh, there's a live one." He indicated to the new arrival. "I think he'd be man enough for you, Harry."

Harry turned surreptitiously to check out the man just hanging up his jacket by the door. He was tall, dark and had an aura of sensuousness about him that definitely oozed from every pore. Harry had no doubt that witches would literally fall at his feet. He took a seat alone on the far side of the pub. Something puzzled Harry about his presence, but for a moment he couldn't think why.

"There you go, Harry. A tall, dark and handsome stranger arrives in town. Tonight must be your lucky night!" Charlie remarked, nudging Harry cheekily.

Harry didn't answer, for in the next minute he spotted Draco entering the pub. He was resplendent in his finest robes, and Harry saw a broad grin on his face as he spotted the handsome newcomer. In an instant he knew this man to be Jean-Paul. Harry could not help but stare at the warm kiss and friendly brush of hands as they sat together at their corner table.

Charlie's eyebrow was raised. "Well at least we know the stranger plays for the right team. I didn't know Draco had a boyfriend." Suddenly remembering Harry's interlude with Draco and seeing the look now on his face, he quickly apologised. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry, too mesmerised by the sight, quickly dismissed the apology. "He's an ex boyfriend of Draco's, actually. At least I thought he was until this week. His name is Jean-Paul, and he's from Marrakesh." He didn't realise just how hard his fingers were curling around his wine goblet. Any harder and it would shatter into small pieces.

"Really? Pity he's taken," Charlie whispered conspiratorially. "I could certainly use the diversion." Harry simply smiled, but no laugh came to his eyes. Hearing that Jean-Paul would be in town, and seeing him first hand with Draco made for a multitude of different emotions – all bad.

He barely tasted his dinner and could not remember later what Charlie had talked about. He spent the entire evening casting glances in Draco's direction. Luckily, they were sitting directly behind Charlie, so he didn't notice Harry's inattention. Draco's back was to him, but the occasional bout of laughter from their table was clearly overheard. It was nice to hear Draco laugh, but he had to work hard to fight the jealousy that was ever present.

It felt like the longest dinner Harry had ever eaten.

--oo0oo--

It felt like the longest dinner Draco had ever eaten. In the secluded corner of the Three Broomsticks, Jean-Paul was talking eagerly about dozens of topics. Draco had barely said a word. The food was pleasant (as pleasant as pub food would ever get), but Draco barely noticed. He was too busy watching Jean-Paul's eyes. He could see that the medi-wizard was passionate about his work, and Draco hoped that he nodded in all the right places, because he sure wasn't listening to a single word he was saying. It had been too long since they had last been together. Despite the fact that he left Jean-Paul for a myriad of reasons (none of which he could recall at the present time), he found himself staring at the other wizard longingly.

He also recalled that Harry and Charlie had been sitting in the pub when he arrived. Judging from the prickling feeling along the back of his neck, he was being stared at.

"That young man, the one with the glasses – he seems to have taken to staring at you," Jean-Paul was curious.

"Oh, that's Harry."

Jean-Paul raised an eyebrow, "Just Harry? It seems to me that he's a little bewildered by your choice of dinner company this evening."

"I can imagine why," Draco gripped his wine goblet firmly. "He finally asked me to dinner tonight. But that was after I accepted your invitation."

"Sweet Merlin! I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't know you had someone else." Jean-Paul leaned back and all pretence of flirting was suddenly gone. "I came tonight wondering if you had moved on yet, or if there was a faint hope that..." He didn't finish the sentence.

Draco nodded in understanding. "I think I have moved on, Jean-Paul, but it's very early days with Harry. Too early, in fact. I doubt it will lead to anything more than a few more angry grudge fucks, if I were to be truly honest. We, er, we have quite the history."

The twinkle in Jean-Paul's eye showed understanding. It might have only been a dinner invitation, but Draco could see the dark lust pooling in Jean-Paul's eyes, and sensed that he had been hoping for more this evening. The nearness of Jean-Paul's flesh had itched at Draco's senses throughout dinner. A sudden sense of regret overcame him at the thought that this could very well be the last time he saw his former lover, for if he still felt this way around him, he knew it would be almost useless to resist his charms.

As the evening wore on, and more of Rosmerta's top quality port had been imbibed, the pair had exchanged plenty of gentle touches and soft whispers. The subtle flirting had continued throughout the evening, with Draco glad for the relief of unburdening his troubles to a friend.

Jean-Paul was understanding and obliging and knew exactly the right words to say to Draco. Even when Draco said that he couldn't consciously spend any more time with Jean-Paul, he agreed wholeheartedly, but then moved in for a deep and long kiss. Draco willingly accepted, and drew his former lover in further with his elegant hands cupping his face. Their bodies pressed closer as the heat of their passion erupted right there in the darkened corner of the pub.

The pair was oblivious to any of the pub's other patrons. Indeed, Draco had completely forgotten that a pair of brilliant green eyes had been watching for a considerable time. The welcoming warmth of Rosmerta's was suddenly a little too stifling for Harry, who had only been listening to Charlie's conversation with one ear. Every touch and every smile drove another dagger of jealousy through him, and he spent much of his evening working on keeping his control. Draco didn't take his eyes off Jean-Paul the entire evening, although Harry met Jean-Paul's direct gaze at one stage. Only then did he start to understand the spell this wizard wove. Even Harry reluctantly admitted he would find it hard to resist such a man were he to be on the receiving end of those affections.

At first he thought it might be a trick of the light, but he saw Draco smile. Not a sneer, not a smirk, but another of those true smile. Directed purely at Jean-Paul. Harry was stunned. In all the years of knowing Draco, he could not once recall the blond having smiled like that. It was a little heart wrenching to know that it wasn't directed at him, but it changed the whole demeanour of his face. He finally had to look away when Draco's smile broadened and extended to show the lust sparking in his eyes.

For months Harry dreamt of seeing that lust, only it was directed at him, not some lump of solid masculinity that could give a brick wall a hard on. Draco looked like he wanted to be desperately ravaged, for when Jean-Paul moved in to kiss him, it was the most erotic kiss Harry had ever witnessed. He barely heard Charlie speaking, for he was too drawn in to watching the show at the other end of the room.

Harry was stunned by the solid passion of that kiss. For two men in a public place it smacked of all the familiarity Harry knew existed between the pair. He closed his eyes – he could watch no more. He didn't realise the intensity of his grip on the table until he felt the ache in his thumb. The image was not erased when he reopened his eyes, but Harry managed to keep himself calm. It's pointless feeling jealous – Draco doesn't know yet that you are his soul mate, and you have exchanged no other promises.

He found his gaze drawn to those lips – lips he continually dreamt of capturing in such a kiss. With a great deal of control, Harry's jealousy was pushed far aside, but he found he could not tear his eyes away from the couple that were kissing and smiling and behaving just like the old lovers that Harry knew them to be.

Harry eventually came to his senses when Charlie kicked him under the table. Blinking rapidly, he saw Charlie was part way between grinning and showing sympathy to Harry. "I somehow think that he isn't as much of an ex-boyfriend as you might think."

Harry tried to keep the dejection out of his voice, "I guess I was sadly mistaken."

"Still, they are a sight to watch, aren't they?" Charlie wriggled in his chair, adjusting the obvious arousal he was feeling. Harry also felt a little restless from the sight of such a decadently erotic kiss. He could only imagine what it would be like when they were alone – if they even realised they weren't alone. Harry loosened his collar - was Rosmerta fiddling with the heating charms in the room?

It had seemed like an eternity since they started the kiss, but suddenly Draco pulled back, his face kiss swollen and his eyes full of unsated lust. Harry inwardly cursed his own inaction and his own hesitancy. If only... He couldn't begin to play the 'if only' game – it always lead to such painful conclusions. But it still stung to see his soul mate in such an intimate touch with another man – and someone Harry knew had been quite special to Draco.

The image of Draco kissing Jean-Paul was burned into his retinas and for once he wished he could have left his glasses at home – if only to be able to not see such an image. Seeing this put all his dreams into perspective. He would have to do some serious work to make Draco see the truth. Jean-Paul was an unnecessary complication.

Harry stood quietly to leave. "Where are you going?" Charlie asked.

Loosening the collar on his shirt even further, Harry felt quite flushed. He threw his Sickles on the table. "Oh, I just need some space. Thanks for the company, Charlie. Sorry I... I just have to get out of here."

Harry dashed out the door, not looking back. He didn't notice the pale grey stare that followed him in concern, nor did he see the warm brown gaze that followed both of them.

--oo0oo--

Draco knew he had the willpower of a flobberworm. He knew that he would be in trouble the minute he heard Jean-Paul's sensually rumbling voice that spoke straight at his groin. Feeling those lips on his stirred emotions that he had tried to bury, but they burrowed to the surface all too easily. Their kiss lingered forever, but Draco knew that it was just the beginning. Jean-Paul begged the question, and Draco responded in the affirmative. He almost forgot they were daring to show their longing in public, but the slamming of the door as Harry walked out brought him quickly back to the present.

He had no doubt that Harry had seen more than he bargained for, and a surge of guilt passed through him. It was unfair that he turned down Harry's dinner invitation, but this would have just rubbed it in further. Once upon a time Draco would have revelled in seeing Harry Potter hurt beyond belief, but now he knew Harry did not deserve such treatment. He had given up so much.

"Draco? What's wrong?" Jean-Paul saw the hurt on Draco's face.

"Nothing," he replied. "I just need... I need some fresh air."

"I'll walk you back to the castle." It was spoken as a statement, not a question. Draco nodded in reply. Their slow amble back to the castle was calm and peaceful. Draco had not expected such an intense rekindling of feelings. Not when every second thought in that regard had been for Harry. Leaving Marrakesh had been the right thing to do. He still needed to find what he was looking for, but just when he suspected that Harry might be somewhat involved, Jean-Paul came back to confuse him further.

They walked in silence for the most part, but Draco found comfort in the warmth of Jean-Paul's touch on his shoulder. Draco was struggling a little as they reached the rooms under the Quidditch stadium and he stopped to rest his knee. The Medi-wizard questioned the current health of Draco's cursed knee, and he found himself talking avidly about the possibility of finding the cure.

"You don't happen to know anyone in Marrakesh who might have some Pegasus Wingtips?" Draco felt a little awkward for asking, but he was beyond desperate to find some.

"You know I'm hopeless around Potions, Draco. If Achmed doesn't carry it in his stall, then I don't know it exists." Jean-Paul seemed disappointed he could not help.

Draco nodded, "I've already written to Achmed, and he doesn't have any." He kept the hurt from his voice, but Jean-Paul embraced him again and kissed away the hurt. This time there was no audience and the dark surrounds allowed Draco to follow the intoxicating scent that was Jean-Paul. The touch of his tongue and the feel of the coarse stubble on his face bringing back vivid memories of those moments of bliss with Harry.

Harry's lips aren't as soft, but his tongue... Merlin, his tongue is so pliant and yielding and soft and velvet... Draco was beyond coherency as the kiss deepened. There was an urgency to Jean-Paul's movements as his hands moved to grasp Draco's hips firmly. Their bodies ground eagerly and Draco knew he could not deny himself this touch any longer, even if he felt that he owed some sort of explanation to Harry.

A small groan escaped Draco's lips as he found lips and teeth and tongue bathing a path down his throat; teasing and taunting and tantalising as each button was slowly undone. He felt the firm assurance of thumbs as they slowly made their way to touch the skin beneath his shirt. A sudden smirk and a half formed laugh escaped his lips as he suddenly realised this was a test. The master was assessing the student to see if he learned anything from the Tantra begun so long ago.

Draco had certainly not expected to find himself in such a situation with Jean-Paul, but he was well beyond caring. The light was dim in the dressing room, but with a wave of his hand, Jean-Paul wandlessly ignited a few of the sconces along the wall. The communal showers adorned the far wall, and without a second thought, Draco guided them over before turning on the taps. The cold water certainly cooled his ardour. The contrast between the warm wetness of Jean-Paul's tongue and the stinging cold of the water was more arousing than he ever thought possible.

His body certainly reacted to Jean-Paul's attentions. As he moaned in delight, an echoed gasp came from the other side of the room. Looking up, Draco locked gazes with a pair of familiar glazed green eyes.

--oo0oo--

Harry needed time to think – time to clear his head. Why had Jean-Paul returned now? If Emmaline was his aunt, surely she would have made mention of his visit before now. She knew that Draco needed to learn the truth – why was she allowing this? Harry was confused, hurt and he knew that no matter how much control he practiced, he would find that the seeds of jealousy were difficult to remove. He couldn't bear to see Draco with anyone else – it wasn't right and it wasn't fair.

Harry's thoughts were a jumble as he headed straight to the broom shed and took off on the first broom that fell into his hands. He never noticed it was an old Nimbus 2001 that now belonged to the Slytherin Quidditch team (its former owner had donated it back to the school upon his graduation). His flying patterns mirrored his confused thoughts as he circled around and through the Quidditch rings.

There's no point in crying over it now, Harry. You are just going to have to work harder to show Luc that Flash is worthy of his time. Why do I dither around and leave things to the last minute? He came to no solid conclusions, but the flight certainly helped him to calm down. There was no bitterness and he knew that if Draco found that he was happy with Jean-Paul, then he would accept that decision. Yeah, right. The decision was made. He had to tell Draco the truth – just as soon as he could get him alone.

Placing the broom back in the shed, he laughed at the irony as he realised just whose broom it was he had been flying. The familiar hammer and singing of the pipes alerted him to the fact that someone else was in the Quidditch rooms. Frowning at who it could be, he could only assume Charlie might have decided to go for a spin as well, and then taken a shower here. The weather was certainly steamy enough. Harry felt the cooling sweat as his shirt clung to his body. Another sound made him curious to investigate.

In all his days, Harry would never forget the sight that greeted him and the way the light played on Draco's hair, the exact difference in colour as Jean-Paul's hands roamed over Draco's body. But most of all, Harry was drawn to the entire tableau. He suddenly realised he was spying on Draco as he was about to have sex. In that moment he realised numerous things, one being that he had never watched before, and secondly, the fact that he had admitted as such to Luc, who had highly recommended watching.

Auror instincts took over momentarily and he slunk back into the shadows. But not once did he take his eyes from the scene before him. An hour earlier, Harry never wanted to see Draco with Jean-Paul again, but now he suspected the inevitable outcome of what he was watching, and he was not about to turn and look away.

He never realised the involuntary gasp as his glasses fogged up from the humidity and they nearly slipped from his nose. He briefly hoped they wouldn't notice, but he found (once his glasses cleared) that he was staring directly into Draco's icy blue gaze. He stopped momentarily at being caught out, but the gaze was not shocked, nor surprised. Indeed, Draco appeared to gain even more pleasure knowing he had an audience. His eyes dared Harry to look away now.

The view was truly mesmerising.

--oo0oo--

Draco knew Harry was watching and he felt a sudden urge to show off. The idea of an audience always made Draco a lot less inhibited. Harry stepped back into the shadows, but he was sure he could still see those deep green orbs gazing and blinking like a stunned animal in the wandlight.

Jean-Paul's lips teased his neck and ear and he heard the low whispered words. "I know you want him, Draco. I can feel the energy between you. You want him to be here. It's his hands you want on your body, isn't it?"

Draco was stunned speechless as Jean-Paul's questions delved deeper and became much more personal. Things were happening too fast and it would soon be over. "You want him, he's what you've been searching for, isn't he?" Jean-Paul hissed in his ear. As he fought to answer, a profound sense of relief overwhelmed him.

Yes, Harry was who he wanted.

The thought of Harry was not so stupid, and the months of dreaming, the hot and heavy encounter and a complete change in thought made him realise this. He wanted Harry. Harry was the one he needed. He wanted to stop right there and finish off with Harry, but it was too late.

The smile on his face at that critical moment was not one of joy for his current lover. It was for the realisation that he needed and wanted to be with Harry. Staring directly at Harry, Draco knew that all he wanted was to share all future moments like this with Harry. That sense of longing was gone. It was right.

Harry watched and writhed as Jean-Paul whispered obviously dirty thoughts into Draco's ear. He had no idea what they were for he spoke French and that alone was enough of a turn on. Judging from Draco's reaction, they were the most titillating and desirous thoughts possible. Harry wanted to desperate interrupt and push Jean-Paul out of the picture and finish things with Draco.

Sated, yet aroused, Harry watched and was completely stunned as Draco continued to look at Harry – that look of total completion and satisfaction crossing his face again. Only this time, Harry knew that Draco meant it for him.

--oo0oo--

The sense of something missing – something more – was no longer there as Draco came down from the heights of passion. Instead the desire to share life and love and intimacy filled him and he knew that he would only ever feel that again if he shared it with Harry. Harry was who he wanted, who he was looking for.

--oo0oo--

Harry didn't remember leaving or returning to his rooms, but he took a cold shower upon returning. The vivid memory of that haunting look on Draco's face was all that filled his mind. That look - that one look that Harry knew was just for him had crossed Draco's face, and Harry knew it to be real. Draco was his soul mate and he never wanted to share that with anyone else.

The jealousy and confusion of seeing Draco with Jean-Paul had been replaced with an insatiable curiosity. Rather than feeling guilty for being caught watching, he found himself somewhat liberated. Not even the thought that Draco might continue his dalliance with Jean-Paul could stifle his mood. He was spurred to action. Now he needed to let Draco know exactly how he felt.

He toyed with the idea of replying to Draco's journal entry, but knew he would give too much away. Harry had to make the next move, not Flash. He would have to work hard to turn Draco's eye from Jean-Paul, and he knew just the thing.

--oo0oo--

Next door, Draco lay awake in his bed – alone. His mind was racing from the aftermath of another sublime sexual encounter, only this time he realised things would never be the same again. He never got a chance to ask Jean-Paul how he came to the conclusion of what Draco needed, and how he knew that it was Harry. Jean-Paul's sudden departure left Draco wondering if he was upset. All Draco knew was that he was grinning like a loon, and was very much looking forward to turning that obsessive fantasy into reality.

--oo0oo--

Back in Hogsmeade, Jean-Paul took the proffered cup of coffee from his aunt's hands.

"So, is it done?" she asked curiously.

"You already know, so I don't think I have to answer." Jean-Paul wasn't entirely impressed at his aunt's machinations.

"You were the one who wanted to be involved in this business, Jean-Paul. I never said it would always be pleasant." There was no twinkle in her eye now.

Jean-Paul scoffed sarcastically, "Right. I gained no pleasure whatsoever in what I had to do tonight - and right in front of Harry, too."

"But did it work?" Emmaline was insistent, completely ignoring her nephew's crass language.

"Undoubtedly, Tante. You have my word. Draco's turned the corner and realises now who he wants. Despite your assertion that you never get involved, you certainly know how to manipulate..."

"I don't manipulate," she retorted emphatically. "Draco needed to see the truth – plain and simple. If it meant that an ex-lover had to show him, then so be it. I merely sent you in his direction to help him see the truth."

Jean-Paul was still unimpressed and seemed quite put out. "Of course, the ex-lover who has no investment or say in this situation. It had better bloody well be worth it."

Emmaline smiled, the twinkle returning in her eye. "Oh don't worry, Môn chéri, rest assured, it will be well worth every moment."

--oo0oo--

Remus was due back at the castle any day now, and little did he know that two young men were both looking forward to his return, for almost exactly the same reasons. Draco was eager to discuss the upcoming moon and his plans for the latest batch of Wolfsbane. He was unsure about whether or not to broach the subject of Harry with Remus. His startling revelation, coupled with the fact that Jean-Paul mysteriously left town the very next morning, and left him unsure and in a quandary. He needed to talk things through with a friend. Flash would understand, but Draco was hesitant to write any more. It was apparent that Flash had not read has words and it would seem that their correspondence had ended. Remus would understand.

Of course, Harry also needed to confide in Remus – for now he found that he needed to talk to someone. He couldn't exactly tell Luc what he saw. His guilt about that was palpable. He certainly wasn't expecting to feel such a bout of intense jealousy over what he witnessed.

"Remus! When did you get back?" Harry moved aside to allow Remus entrance into his rooms.

"Pretty much now." Remus grinned.

Harry smiled as they sat down in the overstuffed armchairs by the fireplace. He'd known Remus wouldn't be away for long, but he hadn't realised how much he would miss his company and their afternoon teas, especially since he'd been in such a snit when Remus left. A wave or two of his wand assured that the teapot was quickly steaming and the necessary accompaniments were ready and waiting for them.

He was looking a little pale, but it was understandable with the moon so near. Despite this, he was still looking fitter and healthier than he had in years. Truth be told, Remus had been looking a good bit healthier for quite some time and Harry now knew that it was a result of all the work Luc had talked about extensively in the journal. Of course, he'd known for some time that Draco was working on the Wolfsbane potion, but only now could he truly appreciate how much time and effort went into it and how much it truly meant to him. He knew this, not by Remus' testimony or by Snape's praise, not by Dumbledore's trust or by Draco's work. No, Harry knew this by Luc's words alone.

"So, Harry. I see you seem to be a lot more settled than you were a couple of weeks ago," Remus smiled as he delved into Harry's freshly baked goods. "Mmm, and I can see that you definitely have a winner here with this food. It's delicious."

"Thanks. How was London?" Harry was playing the perfect host to Remus, and by the time their cups were empty, Remus had exhausted all the small talk.

"Now, what's really been going on, Harry? What's been going on with Luc? How's Draco?"

Harry fidgeted and attempted to stall for a little time, which seemed pointless, as he really had been dying to talk to Remus. He sighed, "Hmm? Oh, well it's going all right, I suppose. I mean, we've not actually talked much lately, but I've been putting a lot of thought into the matter."

"Why haven't you talked?" The sly smile on his face suggested that he knew precisely what was going on, but he played it up, waiting to see what excuse Harry would offer. He mentioned it all, but only gave a sketchy detail of the fact that he saw Draco and his ex-boyfriend sharing a rather intimate dinner (and more).

Remus silently smiled, took a sip of his tea, added another dollop of honey and gave it a quick stir, then took another sip. Finally satisfied, he gently set his cup down (being innocuously elegant as always) and turned to face Harry fully. "You know, I imagine that must be about how Sirius felt when he discovered I was the one in the journal. He knew first; realised it by putting together the nights I didn't write with the nights of the full moon and suddenly everything fell into place for him. He told me later that once he made that connection, he nearly smacked himself for not having realised it sooner when there were so many things that should have been obvious."

Harry laughed. "Yes, you don't know how many times I've had that conversation with myself as well."

"So you can imagine how it will be for Draco. He'll realise the truth at some point, and he'll very likely go through a period of wondering how he could have missed it. Then, if you're both very lucky, you'll go through many, many years together, wondering how you could have fought so much in the first place and thanking your lucky stars that those journals chose you."

Harry didn't miss the underlying sadness in that statement. He realised that Remus must have hoped and wished the same thing for himself and Sirius, only to have their time together interrupted by deception and then cut short by tragedy. He regretted not writing in the journal, and in that brief moment, he realised just how deeply he loved Draco and how broken and lost he would feel if he were to lose that love for any reason. So this is what it's like to have a soul mate, he pondered.

--oo0oo--

Remus managed to turn the conversation his way when collecting his first dose of Wolfsbane on Saturday. Draco seemed quite subdued. The amount of work he was undertaking in his lab was a clue that he was unhappy about something. "So, how's that mysterious wizard you keep writing to? Been keeping you up late at night burning the midnight oil?"

He could see by the way that Draco's face dropped almost immediately that he had struck a chord.

Draco shrugged it off. "Oh, things are okay, but I think he's backed off a little."

"Really? Why would he do that?"

"Well, I guess it might have plenty to do with the fact I might have mentioned a few of the more juicy details of my past. I doubt he's enamoured about the fact that he's writing to a former Death Eater spy." The tone of his words worried Remus, for he could sense the dejection in Draco's voice.

"Are you sure you're not imagining it?" Remus asked cautiously.

"Definitely not, Remus. I've spent too many years at the hands of such treatment. I know that he's begged off our chats because he's uncomfortable..."

"Is it possible that he might just be busy, Draco?"

Draco scoffed. "Yeah, right. Like it's just a coincidence. Don't worry about him, Remus. I doubt I'll be talking to him for much longer."

Remus could do little to pull Draco out from his black mood. He didn't try too hard, for he had seen Sirius in such a mood before, and he knew now that it was definitely an inherited trait.

--oo0oo--

The loud banging on the door startled Harry. Remus strode through looking quite irate after Harry let him in.

"Remus?"

"I never thought I'd see the day when I'd say that I was truly disappointed in you, Harry James Potter." Remus spoke sharply, and for just a brief second, he felt like a schoolboy again.

"What do you..." He had no idea what had brought on this disappointment.

"You promised me you would write to Draco! You never mentioned anything about avoiding his chats! He's practically resigned to the fact that he'll never hear from Flash again! Just what have you done?"

"He's what?" then Harry remembered. "Oh, yeah. I might have brushed off a chat or two, Remus. But it's so bloody hard! Every time I put the quill in my hand, I fear I'm going to just blurt out the whole truth. You know how those books always pull the truth from you? Besides, I don't want to run the risk of telling him if he's not ready. You were the one who told me that."

"You have a choice, Harry. You can take a chance as Flash, and let Draco discover the truth, or you can let your fear take over and risk destroying everything you have with Luc."

Harry seemed surprised at Remus' choice of words. "I'm not afraid..."

"You just said you were," Remus pointed out.

Harry turned and looked away. Remus was right. He had been too scared to talk to Luc. He was afraid of losing it all. Could his inaction do the very same? "I don't know." Now he was just confused again. He felt torn. Draco was Luc. Why was he trying to impress one, when he was doing such a great job to alienate the other.

"Okay, Remus. I'll do it. Not like it's as difficult as fending off a Troll or a Dark Lord, is it?"

--oo0oo--

July 13, Sunday evening

As the time drew near to chat, Draco became more agitated. He told himself that he wasn't to expect anything from Flash, but a thought tugged at his mind that kept the journal, and Flash, constantly in his thoughts. Tired of waiting and tired of playing coy games, Draco grabbed his quill to end the charade.

Flash, Look, I know that you've been avoiding me. I'm quite used to that sort of reaction when a person learns of my sordid past. Why would I expect anything different? Please don't insult my intelligence and tell me that you can't make our chat tonight. I do understand, honestly. If you do feel like writing, well, then maybe I have misjudged you. I've been known to make mistakes in the past – but you already know that. If I don't hear from you again, well, all I can say is that I'm sorry to have disappointed you so. I won't take up any more of your time with my meaningless rambling, Flash. I probably won't be around for the rest of the night. I would appreciate it if you could let me know about our imminent meeting. I'd like some notice so that I don't make any fruitless plans. Again, I'm sorry that I've disappointed you, Luc

Draco closed his journal with mixed feelings. He really didn't want to do it, but he thought he would save Flash the pain of having to come up with yet another excuse to avoid their chat.

Besides, it had seemed like a good idea after the first bottle of wine.

A delivery of a large crate of wine had arrived earlier that day. These bottles were from his winery and Allen, the lessee, had sent the crate from the bumper crop of the new vintage. Draco had been brooding for most of the weekend, and the wine had seemed like a good excuse to forget about life for a while.

Other than Weasley being his usual thorn in his side, things had been going so well. One minute, he had a wizard professing his love. The next, he was barely even responding. Just to make his life even more complicated, he found out that he wanted to share something with a man whom, until recently, was at the bottom of his favourite persons list. All those months of cursing the dream and now all he wanted was to feel it for real. Not that thinking about Harry was anything new. It's just that his childish schemes had now turned to thoughts on how he could get to once again experience the intimate touch of Harry.

Unfortunately, Harry was running hot and cold. His peaceful morning rituals remained the same, but Draco sensed a tenseness about them which left him feeling a little less relaxed in the mornings. Whenever they did meet in the halls, Harry would either rush away quickly, or chat amiably for quite some time. Like a true English gentleman, Harry never once mentioned what he witnessed down in the showers. Draco didn't know why he wanted to broach the subject with Harry, if only to somehow mention the fact that he'd like to do that all over again, only with Harry standing in for Jean-Paul. For some reason, he couldn't actually elaborate that idea to Harry.

His maudlin mood had been festering for days, and he was keenly missing Flash and his witty words. It did not help that Weasley was still refusing to see him, speak to him, or even acknowledge his letters. He would be tenacious on that front. After all, he could not think of anything more he could lose by playing Weasley at a game that was inherently Slytherin. He would win in the end, of that he had no doubt.

Even though he had confidence in his business dealing, he missed the way that Flash used to make him feel special and important. Draco had always thrived on such assurances. He missed their casual flirting and now the shadow of his past could not be so easily forgotten. Yet again the Death Eaters fucked up his life. He couldn't bear to look at the journal again, so he shoved it under a pile of newspapers.

As he stared into the flames, he refilled his goblet and took another hefty sip. Is it possible that I might have somehow been in love with Flash, too? Is it as ludicrous as it sounds? After all, Flash admitted it to me. It's not impossible. It was a thought that churned through his mind for a considerably long time.

--oo0oo--

After Remus' rather stern chastisement, Harry knew he could no longer avoid sitting down and talking to Luc. He felt truly awful for leaving no indication of his absence in the journal, but when he opened it for the first time that week, he sensed the overwhelming sadness. He could not explain it, but it didn't need much explanation after he read Draco's words.

Merlin, does he really feel that way? Harry felt about as low as he could get. How could he not foresee this? Was this one of those dire consequences that Remus mentioned?

Looking up at the clock, he thought perhaps that Draco might still be around. How long ago did he write this?

Luc, are you still around? Luc?

Harry was starting to get a little frantic.

I honestly don't know what to say, Luc. In part you are right, but you are also terribly mistaken. Yes, I have been somewhat distracted by some rather life changing events recently. It was remiss of me to avoid our chats, but please believe me when I say that it has absolutely nothing to do with your past. I guess it is time to be honest with you. The reason why I've been avoiding you is because I've really not known what to say. Not about your past, that's... well, that's all in the past, isn't it? The thing is... things have been in turmoil here. I know it might seem crazy to you, but in these past weeks, I've started to grow closer to someone I never imagined possible. Someone I probably once hated. After helping you to get past your derision with Mr Looks Great in Grungy Jeans, I realised I needed to take my own advice and stop being unfairly judgmental. I tell you in one entry that I love you, and that I know it is true and right and honest, and almost in the next breath I find myself falling for this man. You no doubt think I'm a right wally. And you ask why I've been avoiding you? I guess I'm not as brave as everyone thinks. I haven't abandoned our friendship, Luc, and I would be devastated to think that you might not get to read these words. Somehow, this feels worse than when I thought you had been killed by Neo Death Eaters. Knowing you're there and not wanting to talk hurts more than you could possibly imagine. I still want to meet you, Luc. Nothing about that has changed. Don't think I have forgotten that date. But we'll talk before then, I hope.

Harry waited, wondering if Draco was actually reading his words, or if he had decided to put the journal away. He could not believe his own stupidity. As he waited for a reply to appear in emerald ink, he had a horrible suspicion that Draco wasn't even home. Racing out into the hall, he knocked urgently on the door to Draco's rooms. He knocked again – harder – hoping perhaps that he was in his lab, or possibly sleeping. For a brief moment he wondered if he might be with Jean-Paul.

"Oi," The portrait of the former headmaster yelled crossly at Harry. "D'you think you could keep that racket down? Some of us are trying to write." For the first time, Harry realised that the occupant of the portrait had been painted sitting at a desk, writing in a book with a quill. Only now did he notice the strange co-incidence. "Besides, he's not there. Been gone for an hour or so now."

"Do you know where he went?" Harry eagerly asked the portrait.

"How should I know? I'm a portrait, not a bloody doorman!" he slammed his book shut and tutted, mumbling under his breath about how hard it was to get good staff as he shuffled away from his frame.

Harry wandered dejectedly back into his room. He had no idea where Draco was, but he didn't need to guess the blond's mood. He couldn't just sit back and wait – he needed to find Draco and somehow explain himself or do something to make up for his own stupidity.

Grabbing his boots, he was about to head down to Hogsmeade, when he rolled his eyes in realisation. Pulling open the top drawer of the desk, he pulled out the Marauder's Map. With so few people in the castle, it was not hard to find Draco. Clearing and refolding the map, he wandered over to the window. Looking down, he easily spotted the blond sitting in the soft moonlight. Harry was breathless for a moment. Draco seemed quite the ethereal figure in all that soft light.

On closer inspection, he could make out that he was sitting by the edge of the courtyard's fountain, a cigarette in one hand and a wine goblet in the other. He could not make out the expression on Draco's face, but he could only assume that he was not in a convivial mood.

Draco was undoubtedly drunk, or well on the way, if Harry's guess was correct. Did I cause this? His guilt was evident as he looked back at the journal. Well he isn't going to answer me now, is he? The blame lay squarely on his shoulders as he closed his journal and returned it to his desk. Pulling open the drawer, something heavy clattered inside and his eye caught something shiny. Draco's belt buckle. Somehow, in the weeks since their little indiscretion in the lavatory, he never got around to giving it back.

Inspiration struck, and his face lit up with a smile as he grabbed the buckle before racing out the door.

Harry had wanted to sneak up quietly on Draco, but the crunch of the gravel under his feet gave him away. Draco turned suddenly, but quickly went back to staring silently at nothing.

"Nice night to be out." Harry came and sat on the ledge next to Draco, his gaze turning to the nothingness in the distance.

Harry could almost feel Draco's defensive mask as he sneered. "Oh yes, beautiful." The sarcasm was visible in his words. Draco took another long drag on the cigarette before noisily exhaling. Harry thought Draco had given up smoking – he had not seen him do it for a while anyway. Was he to blame for that return to bad habits too?

Draco turned to look at Harry, and he could feel the gaze burning into him. He could not bring himself to meet his eyes. He was certain he would give away his secret if Draco looked too closely.

"Thought I might come down here to enjoy some fresh air and get completely smashed, but I see you've already started without me." Harry tried humour to lighten the mood.

Draco wallowed defensively. "'M not smashed."

"Right, and I'm not the Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-World," Harry retorted in good humour. Draco snorted in his goblet at the retort and Harry could not help but smile.

"Here, I found this. Thought you might want it back." He handed over the belt buckle.

"You came down here now to give me this?" Draco looked sceptical.

"Sure."

"You're a terrible liar, Harry. You Gryffindors are bloody awful at hiding feelings. What 'choo want to say to me?"

"How – oh never mind," Harry was going to defend that statement, but realised he couldn't because it was true. "You're right, that's not the only reason I came down here. I... I thought you might want to share some supper with me. I might have cooked a little too much, and well..." Harry indicated at Draco's empty wine goblet, "... nobody should be drinking alone."

Draco looked at the goblet and tipped it upside down to check the level. He seemed surprised it was empty. "'M fine thanks, Harry."

"No you're not, Draco. You're slowly getting drunk – in public I might add. I always thought you Slytherins prided yourselves on your ability to do things like that discreetly."

Draco scowled. "I'm perfectly sober, Potter. Besides, sitting in a courtyard of a practically empty castle is hardly public."

"Fine, then. Suit yourself. I just thought you'd cherish an opportunity to whinge and put down my cooking skills. It's not every day that I give you an opportunity to do that."

"Is that a challenge?" Harry saw a familiar quirk in the corner of Draco's mouth. He was actually looking forward to the challenge. Harry realised that no matter what, everything was always going to be a competition between them.

"Why not? I'll let you bitch and moan and complain about my sloppy skills with a saucepan. If you really don't like it, then I won't bitch and moan and complain about your filthy smoking habit."

"A free shot? Well, who would argue with that. Come on then, Potter, I haven't got all night."

--oo0oo--

Draco swallowed the last mouthful, and carefully dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin, taking the opportunity for another mouthful of wine. "Why are you staring at me so intently? Waiting for the poison to kick in?" he replied smartly. He was quite stunned but secretly thrilled by Harry's timely supper invitation. It had proved to be an opportunity to take his mind off such an otherwise miserable evening. He didn't need to think about Flash, and the more he realised that, the more he saw that this was a perfect opportunity to start building some quality time with Harry. For his part, Harry seemed oblivious to the confusion going on in Draco's mind; relishing his role as host and cooking an amazingly simple, yet divinely flavoursome Asian chicken dish.

Harry smirked. "I didn't hear you complain. Admit it, you liked it."

"I can't believe it. Harry Potter can actually cook. I never thought that all the magic in this world would allow such a miracle to happen!" Draco waved his arms melodramatically. Harry was an exceedingly welcome distraction that was just the tonic he needed to forget about Flash.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it?" Draco noticed the blush in Harry's cheeks.

Draco laughed, "You really think? I would not have believed you had prepared and cooked such a delicious meal if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Of course, I could offer you a full critique, but you'd probably have an excuse for everything. Your chopping technique is still sloppy, granted, but your potions were utter shite at school. You wonder why I kept an eye on you nearly every potions class?"

"I just assumed you were practicing casting your evil eye on me," he retorted.

"Harry! How you ever passed your NEWT, let alone make it into the class is still a mystery. You were hopeless – a little better than Longbottom, granted, but I was worried you were going to blow us all up. I was convinced you were planning on it so that none of those evil Slytherins would join Voldemort." Draco realised what he said, and suddenly became sombre, "Of course, you could have done that and saved a few of us a lot of hard work." He started to think about all the former Slytherins who joined the Dark Lord. Nearly all of his own class went dark and were killed. He wondered at times if he had been the reason for some of the decisions of his classmates. Did they simply join because he did? What would they have done had they known Draco's real motive for joining Voldemort's forces? It was a depressing question – one Draco asked himself often when he was feeling down.

Harry watched the play of emotions on Draco's face as he suddenly fell silent. Harry could not help but bear all the guilt for Draco's current mood. If there was any way he could help him snap out of it, then he would do it. The meal seemed to help, but he needed to bring Draco back out of this mood, and quickly.

"So, do you always like to try every bottle that comes out of your winery?" Harry picked up the bottle and examined the label. Draco had returned to his room to pick up a bottle of wine to share with the meal. Harry had been enjoying the wine. It was full bodied and had a great nose - a little sweet but it accompanied the flavours in the chicken rather well. A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth as a wicked thought crossed his mind. "Still, I would have preferred a Chardonnay. It would have been perfect with that chicken. Don't get me wrong, this Rosé is marvellous, but you can't pass up a good white wine."

Draco quickly tried not to choke on his last sip. "Why doesn't it surprise me that you are a Chardonnay lover, Harry?"

"Oh, and you think that because you own a winery you are an expert on the topic of wine, hmmm?" With a flick of his wand, he banished the dirty plates. Here was something he knew they could safely discuss.

Harry's tactic seemingly worked. For the next half hour they sat by the fire as Draco denigrated everything possible about Chardonnay, whilst praising almost every other type of wine. Harry just sat back and let him. He could not help his smile, for he was truly seeing Luc in his natural state.

Draco was not at all surprised that Harry was a Chardonnay sipper. He could just imagine Harry sitting around and sipping it whilst contemplating his navel and talking crap like most other faux wine lovers who loved nothing more than to talk tosh and listen to the sound of their own voices. To his surprise, Harry seemed quite knowledgeable about a good many labels, and despite his penchant for Chardonnay, he did have a healthy regard for other fine wines.

"Whenever did you manage to get your hands on a bottle of Curvé Dom Perignon Millésime? I only ever thought there were a half dozen bottles. I was sure that my family had the last of them." He really seemed quite knowledgeable, but Draco suspected he might have finally caught Harry out in a lie.

"Oh, but I have your family to thank for that, Draco. It seems two bottles of it were in the cellar of the Black home in London. Actually, it was Sirius, and that very wine that got me interested in it in the first place." Harry fondly remembered that single Christmas with Sirius. It might have not been the most auspicious start to a holiday, but it was the most time he had spent with Sirius, and it pained him to think it was the only significant time he ever truly had with his godfather.

Sirius had taken it upon himself to drink his way through the entire cellar of Grimmauld Place as he was confined in yet another prison. Harry had caught him in the kitchen very late one evening staring at the unopened bottle. Remus was out on business for the Order this night, and thinking back now, Harry realised that Remus' absence could have been part of the reason for Sirius' mood. He sat Harry down and very carefully took the better part of an hour to teach Harry all he could about wine. He spent half his lecture in a mocking tone, explaining it in a parody of his own father's clipped tones. He then spent another half hour with Harry explaining the reason why even the purest of pure-blood wizards would not use magic to open a bottle of wine.

After a two hour lecture, Harry was so hyped up to share in this bottle of wine, that the first taste literally was ambrosia. Harry had preferred to drink wine from that time on. His own interest was mostly because it was something he could still share with Sirius, even after death, but he admitted that it was something he had grown to love.

"I never knew of this Grimmauld Place." Draco mentioned as they had moved to the chairs by the fire, "But Mother never spoke that often of her family. I knew one of her sisters was a fanatic, and she dared not to talk of her other in front of my father. I think they were close, but father would never have allowed her in the house. I think she married a muggleborn wizard." Harry nodded. He would have liked to have known Draco's mother a little better - any woman that had to put up with Lucius Malfoy for so long must have been of strong character. Harry's heart went out to Draco as he remembered Luc's words about his mother.

Clouds had rolled in to cover the moonlight and the temperature had dropped sharply. A storm was undoubtedly coming. Draco murmured absently. "But I can't believe you got the taste for wine from the Blacks – I guess their legacy will live on in a good way."

Draco sounded slightly bitter, and Harry could see Draco was about to brood again. The whole point of this evening had been to make it up to Draco for Flash's failings. He pondered how he was going to do that when Draco stood suddenly.

Draco wandered over to the window when he realised he was being maudlin. He didn't need to spill all his problems in front of Harry. It was bad enough that he had suspected he was planning on drinking himself stupid earlier. This dinner had been a surprisingly nice diversion. As he looked around, he noticed the décor of the room for the first time. The place wasn't quite well lived in, but what it lacked in the way of decent furniture, it made up for with a strangely mismatched style that Draco admitted suited Harry. It was about as haphazard as his hair.

For starters, none of his furniture matched. The bed looked to be a standard Hogwarts issue, although why he looked at that first, he could not answer. The armchairs and couch were all different styles and colours, and none of the chairs around the table matched. A number of half opened boxes were stacked along one wall and a half filled bookcase stood against the wall. Draco noticed the familiar multicoloured spines of numerous Muggle novels.

"Those are DVD's," Harry offered as he watched Draco stare puzzlingly at the collection of discs on the shelf. "They have movies on them so you can watch them instead of going to the cinema." Harry spoke casually. Draco nodded; he hoped Harry wasn't going to give him a patronising lecture on Muggle culture.

"I thought they were called videos. What are you going to play them on, anyway?" he asked as he noticed that Harry's collection seemed to head towards action and adventure, with quite a few of them featuring a blonde haired girl by the name of Buffy.

Harry leapt out of his chair in excitement and pulled his wand, pointing it at the corner. A television was revealed from a compartment in the wall.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I know you need a television, Harry, but what will you use to power it? Hogwarts can't get electricity."

Harry's good humour didn't deflate. "I know, but I've been thinking about that – and about the castle's magic. How did you get your wireless to tune into BBC1?"

"Oh, I was sick of hearing your name on the WWN, so I charmed and hexed and hoped and wished and eventually I must have come up with the right combination of spells. I honestly don't know what I did – I can't change the station back now, even if I wanted to," he was reluctant to admit.

Harry's smile was infectious. "Really? Well I think it's the castle..." He went on to explain a theory he had about the magic of the castle working with a wizard's intent. The headmaster's suggestions had helped him to come up with the idea, and Draco had to admit that it could probably work.

"Well then why can't the students just wish hard enough for something and have it appear? I for one certainly wished for your demise hard enough; that never happened." Draco asked.

"That's a good point. I think the castle is well aware of the difference between staff and students and…"

They were both sitting on the couch now as Harry finished explaining his theory. Draco realised for the first time that it was quite pleasant to be sitting here and listening to Harry and his exuberant ideas. They did have some merit. Admittedly a few months earlier, he would never have dreamed of ever doing such a thing, but after months of having to work with him, and learning that his original impressions of Harry had been misleading, he could see that Harry's only true flaw was his exuberant nature to help people. He could only guess that Harry was doing this tonight because he could see how miserable Draco was.

But rather than resent him for that fact, Draco found himself profoundly grateful for the company. If his friendship with Flash was waning, then a friendship with Harry Potter was going to be just the ticket. Besides, isn't that all I ever wanted in the first place? To be Harry Potter's friend?

Being in such close proximity to Harry, Draco could not help but notice several things. Yet again, Harry's hands were distracting him. The way one hand held the wine goblet and how the other one ran over the rough bumps and ridges of the blown glass as his thumb played across the goblet's rim. Harry's eyes were sparking cheerfully and Draco noticed just how much at ease he seemed to be.

Harry was no longer acting as agitated as he seemed that day in the Leaf and Bean, but Draco was fully aware of the sense of calm he seemed to be projecting. Harry was talking about something, but Draco realised he had not been listening. The awkward pause told him that Harry was obviously expecting an answer to some question he had not even heard. He covered his slip by taking a long sip of wine. He could not look Harry in the eye, so he looked over Harry's shoulder at his desk.

Harry's desk seemed to be the only thing that was messy about his rooms. His furniture may have been a pile of mismatched items, but everything was orderly arranged and spotlessly clean. His desk was the exact opposite. The parchments and books were as haphazard as Harry's hair, yet he guessed there must be some method to the placement of everything. He noticed that Salazar Slytherin's Parseltongue book was resting open against a pile of other books. Draco recognised them from their spines. They were a number of common Potions reference guides.

"How's the translation going?" Draco asked. Harry turned and noticed what had taken Draco's interest.

Harry sighed, "It's going slower than I thought. I'd hate to make any mistakes, so every time I come across a potions ingredient I've not heard of, I try to make sure it does exist. It's really important to me that I get it completely accurate." Draco noticed Harry looking down at his knee, and knew that look. It was apparent that Harry would take on the guilt for anything if he thought he could.

"It's not your fault, Harry. You didn't make any mistake – not your fault that Pegasus Wingtips are all but extinct." Draco said. "Why don't you just translate what you can, putting in the words you think it says, then I could go over the ingredients with you – I might have a better idea what's right and wrong, and that way you don't waste time researching."

Harry thought about it for a moment and nodded. "That would be great – that's if you've got time."

"Plenty of time, Harry. For that, I've got plenty of time." Draco admitted reluctantly that he didn't want this nice, relaxing and congenial evening to end too soon. The wine was nearly gone, but there was something about Harry's presence that helped him forget the misery awaiting him in his own rooms. If it meant he had to talk about anything and everything to prolong the evening, then he would.

He noticed that during their conversation, they had moved and were sitting awfully close. Harry's thigh was now against his own, and if he concentrated, he could feel the pulse throbbing along it. It was undoubtedly working in time with the pulse that throbbed in Harry's neck. Draco found himself studying Harry's face more closely than ever. At least, more closely than he had at such a distance. Harry must have noticed this at the same time, for his eyes glistened and he swallowed very hard. He looked away momentarily, seemingly confused.

"Draco, I..." Harry seemed hesitant, but Draco knew he was struggling to confess something. He wasn't sure if it was only the wine driving his actions, but he quickly grabbed the goblet out of Harry's hand, their fingers touching for the briefest of moments. A small flush rose up in Harry's cheeks and the overabundance of stimulating senses came to the fore and Draco found himself watching Harry's lips a little too closely. The accidental touches had not been planned, but Draco could sense that something outside of his control was happening. Something his body was certainly more than amenable to; something his brain was fervently agreeing with.

Before he knew it, his lips were pressed against Harry's. He couldn't say who moved forward to kiss first, just that he knew his lips were now brushing against Harry's warm and soft mouth. He was pleased that Harry responded with equal enthusiasm and before long they found their tongues seeking and exploring and biting and nipping. There was no urgency, their tongues both found they wanted to explore at a slow, leisurely pace.

Draco let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Was he dreaming again? Hadn't he wanted this since... he could not quite remember how long it had been since he realised he wanted to do this, but now that he was holding Harry's face in his hands, and his lips were brushing roughly against lips and teeth and stubble, he knew that this was the one thing he had to do to help forget his worries – to forget about Flash.

--oo0oo--

Harry had stopped thinking long before. He had ridden the full gamut of Draco's emotions from the moment he opened the journal. Draco's state was entirely his fault. The food and wine had helped them both to relax and Harry finally saw Draco relaxed to the point of letting down the last of his barriers. This was his soul mate and he knew that he could never tire of Draco's company. It felt like they were getting to know each other for the first time, but this was very quickly going to turn to something he desired deeply, but felt somehow... wrong.

Harry's conscience couldn't lie to Draco any longer. It would be totally unfair to let anything happen without confessing. He had to tell Draco he was Flash. He would hate him forever if he didn't. "Draco, I..."

Harry was not expecting Draco to attempt any move, but after the briefest of touches as he took away his goblet, he found his lips tentatively searching the corners of Draco's mouth. He wasn't sure what was happening, just that he knew this felt right and sweet and he knew that if he didn't stop soon he would never want to stop again. He could feel the desire singing along his skin at each touch and the feel of Draco's tongue as it wanted to touch and taste and tease...

The kiss turned feverish and became something deeper to both men – something more needy as they fought each other for breath. Their constant struggle for dominance seemed to have retreated to some deep recess as they explored with teeth and lips and tongues that felt like drinking every ounce of skin. Draco's hand crept up and pulled Harry's glasses away, throwing them into the corner of the couch. Harry didn't need them to see the hunger in Draco's eyes, and he pulled away for just a moment.

One part of Harry wanted to rip away at that final barrier of shirts and robes that separated them, but the image of the journal kept throwing itself up in his face and he stopped. "Draco, there's something I have to tell you..."

Draco smirked and snorted, but didn't pull away. "I'm sure there's plenty you have to tell me, Harry..." For once, Draco's mouth was not spouting caustic or bitter remarks. Harry felt a little stunned by Draco's sudden assertiveness, but his brain has stopped thinking clearly the moment they locked lips. Both men were taunt with desire, but there was no sense of urgency in Draco's mouth, nor in his hands as they locked behind his head, nor in the way his body aligned perfectly with his.

"Is this what you want, Draco?" Harry managed to gasp as he stopped for breath.

Draco's laugh blew hot air across Harry's ear as he kissed across his face and down his neck. "I have no idea, Harry, but why don't you ask me again, later." All of Harry's guilt fled – if this was what Draco wanted, then he could not argue with it.

Draco's hands were suddenly busy with the buttons on Harry's shirt. Harry found his own hands reaching for the dozens of crazy buttons on Draco's robes. It was an unfair advantage, but Harry was up for the challenge. He managed a few rows of buttons before Draco's tongue bathed a path down his chest and across his nipple. Harry groaned in delight as he threw his head back against the couch, freeing more of his neck for Draco's attention. Harry faltered and failed to open any more of Draco's buttons. He could not even rip at the fabric and his frustration was evident. Draco snickered, but didn't offer any more assistance.

His resolve shattered the moment Draco's tongue began to toy with his nipple. Harry was so incoherent, he groaned in delight. Harry finally managed to pull open the last of Draco's persistent buttons. His lips and tongue wanted to, yet again, taste that spot just below Draco's ear. He really wanted to taste every part of Draco, but that was where he planned to start.

Draco's return moan of delight at Harry's ministrations masked the flaring of the fireplace being Floo activated.

"Harry, have you seen... Bloody Hell! What the fuck..." Harry thought it seemed wrong to hear Ron's voice at that very minute, but Draco's body stiffened and pulled away slightly. Somewhat confused, Harry turned away to see Ron's head bobbing in the fireplace. Without his glasses he could not tell his mood, but after their recent disagreements about Draco, he doubted his friend was grinning in joy.

"R... Ron! When did you get back from France?" Harry scrabbled around the couch to find his glasses and attempted to button his shirt. "W... what are you doing Flooing at this hour? Everything all right?" Draco eventually handed him his glasses as he casually sat back against the cushions. Draco made no move other than to glare at Ron's head. Harry's heart hammered heavily in his chest as he saw the look of barely concealed disbelief in Ron's face. It was a credit to him that he had not exploded as yet.

Ron snorted, "Caught you at a bad time did I, Harry?" The sarcasm was evident in his bitter words.

Draco snorted and finally spoke up, "On the contrary, Weasley, Harry was having a rather good time."

"Draco..." Harry warned.

"No, it's okay, Harry. Now, surely you could call Harry back in the morning..."

"Actually, Malfoy," Ron snorted in feigned amusement, "I was calling him because there was no answer on your Floo. I thought he might have been able to locate you. I guess I was... right on that part, eh?"

"Why on earth would you be Flooing me at such an hour, Weasley? Couldn't wait until tomorrow to deliver more bad news?" Draco seemed more than a little frustrated by the intrusion. Harry had to admit it was a little strange for Ron to be calling at such an hour.

"I had to check you were around, Malfoy." Ron seemed quite put out and disappointed about something. "I can only assume, Harry, that he's got an iron clad alibi for tonight?" Harry nodded.

"Why? What were you planning on accusing me of tonight?"

"Someone's broken in to Malfoy Manor. There's been a huge fire."

---

TBC in chapter 17...

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

Review Thank You's:

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Phew! You're a prolific bunch, alright! A few comments that do need answering. If we answered you all, we'd exceed this site's size limit!

kcgal: Hope you aren't frothing at the mouth for too long! Glad this fic meets your standards - we do try hard to do our very best - not just for ourselves, but for everyone. Thank you for your kind and inspiring words!

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Dark Wryder: I hope you aren't too incoherent after reading this!

Valerie747: Glad you think this story is a convincing romance. We try to keep it as 'real' as possible. People don't just jump into bed on the first look (well, not always) and we wanted to read a nice, slow and languid story. Writing one was the only option at the time! Thank you again!

Dr Colleen: I do hope you are in a fit state now that we have some resolution to the story... but will there be more reasons for you to raise that elegant eyebrow? Hmmm? You'll just have to wait and find out! We think there's only about 5 more chapters to go. At least today there is! Thanks again for your inspiring words!

Sonrisa: Yes, Harry has angsted. He might angst some more, but that's for us to know and for you to find out! As for those Neo Death Eaters... I'm not at liberty to divulge anything about them. Fortunately, I am immune to the effects of Veritaserum, so you can't catch me out tell you that you'll find out more about them in chapter... oops, nearly let out, didn't I?

MachiavellianOrange: You win the internet for having the best name! And thanks also for all the encouragement!

Lady Lynn: Yes, we stopped right there! There was a perfectly good reason at the time, but now I can't remember for the life of me what it was... perhaps we were suddenly possessed by evil fanfic spirits that wanted to mess with people for a couple of months! Or perhaps we just wanted to see if anyone was really reading our humble little story! Thanks for your words, and for reading!

And to the rest of you, thank you for every encouraging word. Opening the email to see another review just makes us both want to open the chapters and keep writing! Honestly! It's so frustrating that we can't respond to each review in this program, but we do keep each and every single review. Honestly! We hope that nobody got into too much trouble for skivving off school work, or house work or college work to read this, but thank you all again. We hope you stick around until the end!

Cheers to you all!
Azhure & Wintermoon