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!

19. Walk On

Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone
Chapter 19: Walk On
Authors: Azhure & Wintermoon2

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off
And if your glass heart should crack
And for a second you turn back
Oh no, be strong
Walk on, walk on
U2

Notes: Thank you to JediMijan and C Dumbledore for their beta and ideas for this chapter. They are both wonderful! Thank you to all our patient readers who are still with us. This was going to be the last chapter, but it just got too long, and a logical point to cut it in half came at the end here. We apologise for the inordiate delay in getting this chapter to you, but you all understand that real life does take precedence - unfortunately.

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I. All that you fashion, all that you make...

From the moment Harry Potter found his soul mate, he found it difficult to hide the goofy grin on his face. Not that it mattered, for Draco wore a similar smile a mile wide. For two whole months after Harry's recovery, every aspect of their lives played out as he had always dreamed. It were as if an entirely new chapter in their lives had begun, and that their previous lives were a long forgotten novel that now lay on the shelf. It felt that way to Harry because he had found what he was looking for, so now they could both get down to the business of living.

Every waking moment of those first weeks was spent rekindling the connection that kept their souls bound from one life to the next. They barely made it out of Draco's rooms (or their rooms as they quickly became known). Draco was ever conscious of the fact that Harry should be resting, but Harry had other ideas. Their new life together may not have just been one long debauched session in the bedroom (although neither complained about that aspect), for they found themselves opening up and doing quite a bit of talking.

Harry saw the real Draco emerge and he regretted never getting to know him sooner. At the same time, Draco managed to discover that under Harry's innocent exterior lay a man whose incessant optimism gave him a whole new perspective on the simple things in life. Although they became closer than ever before, they still were hesitant to completely open up to each other. A lifetime of mistrust and doubt did not go away overnight, but each could see that the other was trying.

In the newness of this relationship, old habits fell by the wayside, and they didn't continue to write in the journals. They did, however, have deep, meaningful conversations about everything from the Minister of Magic to Merlin philosophies and from sausages to biscuits, just as they had always wanted.

Harry's magic slowly returned to its former levels as his confidence and self-esteem were at an all time high. He was happy, and that's all that mattered. He was still trying to work though a few doubts that niggled in the back of his mind, but the intensity of his feelings for Draco drowned them out.

The mask that Draco previously wore in public was slowly eroding, and he wore a permanent smile. Harry wondered how a person could spend so many years hiding behind such falsehoods. For his part, Draco seemed to take great pleasure in watching Harry – no matter what he was doing. Harry knew Draco liked to watch people – old habits were hard to break, and he could feel when those icy blue eyes were staring straight at him. He never knew what thoughts were going through the Slytherin's mind, but he could certainly put on a show for him.

Draco never did manage to budge Harry from his bed, but he never really tried in the first place. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to have Harry in what he now considered their bed, and they fit together perfectly. The depth of their passion was realised as they spent hours refining their skills at the Tantra – all to attain that moment of perfect sexual bliss.

Draco was pleased to note that his control of the Tantra was improving significantly, and their lovemaking often degenerated into one ever long dare, with the winner being the one who could make his lover melt and come with just a touch.

Weaving together the other threads of their lives was not as easy as they had first thought. Yes, they agreed on many things, but there were numerous things that they were both frustrated with and they were learning their way through the slow dance called compromise. Draco promised to join Harry in his daily T'ai Chi, but he asked that Harry not come into his lab whilst he was working. For the most part, Harry was a disaster around anything much to do with potions, and he was happy to oblige.

Harry respected that Draco needed room to work, and he would retire to his rooms. He never admitted to Draco that his wand arm would sometimes tire quickly, and his magic would scatter and become a little erratic. He would often spend hours in diligent exercises and meditations to heal himself with his own magic. Madame Pomfrey was still in disbelief over his rapid recovery, and seemed to be quite the sceptic. This loss of magical control often made him feel as incompetent and useless as a first year, and often put a dent in his wavering self-esteem.

Flash and Luc found that they had surprisingly opened up to one another in the journals, but that same ease of anonymous conversation didn't always flow when talking directly. He thought he knew how Draco would react to certain topics, so he stepped carefully around those topics. He never brought up the subject of Draco's knee, or Ron, or anything to do with Draco's time as a spy. He wanted to help Draco cope with the pain of his knee, but he knew the fierce pride that ran through Draco, and how he would refuse the smallest concession for his infirmity. He continued to channel magic through the degenerating joint whenever he thought Draco was asleep. This concerned him beyond belief, but if Draco was tight lipped about anything, it was this subject.

The touchy subject of their friends came up fairly quickly, for Hermione was a regular contact through the Floo, and with Ron still missing, Harry was often in touch with all of the Weasleys. He noticed the distinct frown on Draco's face whenever one was around. He was always polite, of course, but everyone could feel the tension in the air. Harry never thought to question why Draco never left him alone with Charlie for more than a few minutes, but had he chosen to do so at the time, plenty of angst may have been avoided.

Harry knew from the journal just how much Snape meant to Draco. He seemed to have been more of a father figure than Lucius ever had. He could not begrudge that friendship, particularly after the injuries Snape sustained during the Neo Death Eater battle. He doubted that they would suddenly become best buddies, but like Draco, he made an effort.

After inviting them to dinner, Harry could see that Snape was not a well man. He could also see that Charlie was deeply worried about that, but was trying to hide it behind his affable Weasley charm. It might not have been the longest dinner in history (Charlie and Severus had a timed Portkey back to the chateau), but Harry managed not to snark in Snape's direction, and Snape did manage to complement Harry's cooking. It was a start.

Draco might have tolerated the existence of the other Weasleys, but any mention of Ron brought a scowl to Draco's face that Harry remembered well from their school days. His old friend was still missing, and the Weasley family had undertaken a large scale search for him. Harry would have liked to join in their search, but Madame Pomfrey had suggested that he really shouldn't venture too far from the school, or Hogsmeade, at least not until he could show her he wasn't constantly tired. He just smiled. He didn't have the heart to tell her that his lack of sleep was not a side effect of his rapid recovery.

He tried to look at Ron's actions from Draco's perspective. Part of him wanted to believe that this was all a huge mistake – that Ron had nothing to do with the Neo Death Eaters burning down the Manor and nearly succeeding in getting away with his inheritance. A small part of him could believe it, which was the problem. He knew better than to even mention it to Draco, for he heard enough ranting about it without adding further fuel to the fire.

Whatever reasoning lay behind the truth, Harry just wanted to know where Ron was – for Hermione's sake. Yes, Harry knew which battles were worth fighting, and which topics to leave. They would have to discuss it – eventually. But for now, they were both happy to leave it off their list.

For their relationship was still new and tentative, and neither wanted anything to happen that could spoil the wonder of discovering a soul mate. Unlike many new relationships, Harry's long history with Draco made him more aware of the things that could trigger Draco's temper, and he found it difficult to confide his deeps worries when he knew they would only cause grief. He didn't want to lose what he had only just found. Perhaps when they became more confident, he might confide in Draco, but for now, he would keep the peace.

It took Draco a couple of weeks to fully realise that Harry had moved in to his rooms. First it was the bed – Draco certainly had no qualms about that. Of course, that led to Harry's toiletries ending up in the bathroom, and a few changes of robes in the armoire. Again, not a problem. Harry's rooms were right next door, but it seemed that the view from Draco's window was nicer, and the fireplace more appealing. The thought of Harry living with him made him feel uncharacteristically warm and fuzzy inside. No questions were asked, and no permission was sought, but Draco was glad, all the same. Alas, that was until he discovered 'That Chair'.

"Harry, where did that ghastly chair come from?" Draco asked one evening as they raised the lights. It had been a very pleasant day in Hogsmeade, and Emmaline seemed to be in fine form. They ate far too much brioche and Draco was still laughing over the faces Harry made as he tried to drink Turkish coffee. It was after the tenth spoon of sugar that Draco decided he should try Harry on something a little weaker. Harry refused to show weakness, and continued with the coffee. Unfortunately, to Draco's dismay, he learned that Harry should never be allowed near too much caffeine, and he spent the afternoon regretting it. He came back to his room to find the chair sitting beside the fire.

Harry shrugged. "Well it seemed a bit silly that I head back to my room all the time just to get comfortable in this chair. Besides, the fireplace in this room seems to have a much better aspect" He flopped down into it. "Isn't it great?"

"It's ghastly. Green, but ghastly," Draco's nose turned up at it as he gave it an appraising look. "Are you sure you don't need your eyes tested again?"

"I don't know, you look pretty good to me," Harry retorted, batting his eyelashes innocently, but for a moment he hesitated. "It was... I mean, you don't mind that I brought this chair in, do you?" for a moment he thought he might have overstepped his mark.

"No, why would I mind?" Draco said instantly, putting Harry at ease. "But I don't suppose you would care to transfigure it into something a little more aesthetically appealing?" Harry just looked up at him with eyes that seemed greener and more concerned than ever. He relaxed when he say the playful smirk on Draco's face.

"Love me, love my chair," he retorted.

Draco relented, wondering just how he managed to admit such a tacky piece of furniture into his life. His mother would be rolling around in her grave if she knew. It seemed the chair was not negotiable, so Draco just shrugged and let Harry think that he had won as he pulled Draco down for a kiss.

Of course, he wasn't giving up without a fight, and Harry would come home regularly to find the chair transfigured into something much more tasteful. In yet another competition of wills, the chair became a focal point to see who could outdo each other with their transfiguration skills. Draco would turn it into something elegant – soft designer leather with plush arms, or a solid chesterfield. Harry would pay it no mind and eventually make it look even more gaudy. It was the gigantic chintz rose pattern that finally sent Draco over the top. The next day, he disillusioned the chair. It was only after Harry, without his glasses, bumped into it in the early morning and severely bruised his toes that they called a halt on the feud.

It was the little things like this that mattered, and Draco realised that Harry really did have a very cheeky sense of humour. It appeared that the public managed to get wind of the fact that they were together. Draco saw the article before Harry. It was the usual drivel about the Boy Who Lived, but Draco immediately saw the hidden insults written between the lines. He was prepared for some sort of violent reaction when Harry eventually made it to that page, but he simply rolled his eyes, chuckled and tossed the rag on the fire.

He looked up at the surprise on Draco's face. "What?"

"Did you read what they wrote?"

"Yeah, but you know what? I don't care any more. I don't need public approval to tell me where my heart lies. If the wizarding public knew what was best, they'd leave us alone in the knowledge that we are happy. I've come to the conclusion that I'm never going to stop them gossiping about me."

"You know that once they see we are blissfully happy, they'll try to break us apart," Draco offered. "They'll make up stuff."

Harry shrugged. "Bring it on. They've been making up stuff about me since as far back as I can remember. I could do with something hilarious to read, actually." He looked over at the sceptical look on Draco's face. "Honestly, I'm fine, but if it bothers you that much..."

"No," Draco waved him away. "I don't think those reporters know how to string the word 'Malfoy' into a sentence without the word 'Evil' popping into it as well... I'm well over it. I was more concerned for your welfare."

"Perhaps we should start feeding them some false stories. I'm sure an anonymous reader could suddenly spot you out and about with some hot guy who isn't me," Harry suggested with a wicked smirk.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "When do you want me to start on the Polyjuice?"

"That's positively evil, Draco."

They both laughed.

--oo0oo--

They never did act on the grand plan to foil the gossip columnists, but as the holidays drew to a close, they had managed to fill in all the gaps that had been left hanging over their conversations as Flash and Luc. Food was cooked and plenty of wine was tasted. Disparaging opinions were often given, but they realised that it was their fundamental differences that added that something extra to their relationship. They agreed on all the things that mattered – love, lust and fidelity, even if they couldn't agree on the right wine for dinner.

Harry thought their tastes in food might be a contentious issue, but he quickly learned that Draco's days as a poor student in Paris left him with a fine appreciation of fast food. He would rather a well cooked meal made with fresh ingredients, but he could wolf down a doner kebab or scoff a vindaloo with the best football hooligans from the east end of London. That was perfect, because Harry quailed at having to cook something as fiddly and delicate as roasted spatchcock with prune stuffing and truffles. A fine meal, sure, but there was little substance, and Harry did enjoy the more hearty meals.

It was over one of these dinners that the conversation turned to beer. Harry mentioned how he really could no longer stomach it as it always reminded him of Ollie. Draco asked the inevitable question about the identity of this git, purely so they could put it behind them and both move on. Harry became very quiet and nodded to himself, realising that Draco already knew the whole Ollie saga. "Oliver Wood." He needed no further elaboration, and Draco never asked any further questions. That was not to say that Draco didn't keep a mental list. He had quite a few things he wanted to say and do to Wood if they ever happened to cross paths, for he sensed that Harry still carried some baggage about that relationship.

One of the things Harry took great pleasure in discovering was the fact that 'Luc' was not exaggerating when he claimed there was a whole slew of spells for 'that sort of thing'. His own sexual education had been a very hit and miss affair, with those few previous wizard lovers more eager to say they had scored with Harry than they were in helping him to find what he truly wanted. One night with Charlie Weasley had been enough to tell him that there was so much more to intimacy than just sex, and it was extremely eye opening to have a partner who was willing to forego his own pleasure to ensure that Harry could appreciate pleasure in all its forms.

He discovered kinks he never imagined possible (he certainly never looked at his wand the same way again), but it seemed that Draco knew them all. He certainly didn't enjoy everything, and Draco agreed that sexual manipulation and violent sexual gratification were not things he favoured either, but he just had to ask. It was just too harsh and brought back too many unpleasant memories. For Draco, it wasn't so much about his own gratification. He seemed to gather much of his own pleasure from giving Harry exactly what he wanted. That wasn't to say that Harry would just sit back and let Draco do all of the work. For once, Harry proved to be a quick study, and Draco was soon reaping the benefits of his own lessons.

From Draco's point of view, he was constantly amazed by new things he learned about his soul mate. Harry had only recently admitted enjoyment as he watched someone else having sex, and Draco was a well practiced exhibitionist, but he never imagined that there were so many opportunistic corners and alcoves within the castle that offered enough privacy for a quick shag. Of course, Harry, in all his endearing recklessness, decided that he often wanted more than just a quick shag. Harry had an uncanny knowledge of the castle, and Draco only wondered how his lover could seem so innocent, yet have such a wicked streak running through him. He could only imagine what would happen if they continued these activities once the students returned.

Being shagged in the privacy of the Quidditch showers was one thing. Finding yourself in the middle of the Great Hall (without the benefit of invisibility cloak or disillusionment) was something else. He didn't think that 'staff privilege' would be a sufficient excuse if they managed to be caught out by Mrs Norris, or heaven forfend, Minerva McGonagall in one of her regular tours of the castle. Besides, it would have ruined the end of what had been the most wonderful birthday of Draco's life. In the sudden change of pace in over recent months, his birthday had been all but forgotten, but Harry had given a celebration he would never forget.

Harry was sneakier than a Slytherin but with that reckless Gryffindor streak. Draco assumed that Harry enjoyed the thrill of being caught out, as he highly doubted their interrupted liaison on one of the beds in the infirmary was coincidental. He also doubted Madame Pomfrey believed Harry's explanation that he was giving Draco a prostate exam. Draco had no idea that Harry actually had an appointment with the medi-witch at that time, and he knew that he had only encouraged this sort of behaviour. He just never realised he had awoken an almost insatiable monster – one that he wouldn't exchange for anything.

Not even when he found his trousers down around his knees with Harry between his legs along the back stacks of the Leaf and Bean during the lunch hour rush. Harry had thrown down the gauntlet to propriety, and he thought it was amusing that Draco was the one who was worried. The shelves might have ended in disarray, but more good than harm had come from the brief, but intense interlude. Draco was flushed from the heart pumping rush, and suspected that Emmaline knew everything. She just had to be a Legilimens, judging by the look she gave both of them afterwards.

Draco couldn't look her in the eye for days after that, but Harry would not put him out of his misery. Eventually he would get around to telling Draco about the power of his non verbal Disillusionment spells. In the meantime, he would wear an irrepressible grin and let Draco sweat it out.

In short, life was everything they could both possibly want. It was just a shame that the honeymoon was coming to a quickly grinding halt.

--oo0oo--

The return of the students was inevitable, and they reluctantly spent more time on their work related responsibilities. Harry's excitement at the start of another school year had not waned. Somehow, he had managed to pull together an extremely detailed curriculum to assist Remus, who assured him that Dumbledore would have no concerns in approving it at their first staff meeting.

Draco had almost finished ordering, preparing, bottling and drying all the stored ingredients Severus would need for the term and he was eager for classes to start so he could get back into a new Wolfsbane routine. He was excited about seeing young Maggie's progress with the potion, as she responded well over the summer. He had so many ideas about improving it for her, he was eager to get started.

They were slowly waking up on the morning of the staff meeting, when they heard a sharp rap at Draco's door, followed by the Headmaster's voice. They were not expecting the company, and Harry made a very quick dash into the bathroom to get dressed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. The Headmaster usually Flooed the staff, and Harry couldn't recall if he was aware of their sleeping arrangements, which put him in a mild panic.

"Ah, splendid," Albus smiled and shuffled his way through the door as Draco let him in.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir? Are you in need of a potion..." Dumbledore waved Draco's concern away.

"Actually, I came to see how you boys were doing." He gazed over at the bathroom door, knowing full well that Harry was in there. He cleared his throat and a moment later, a fully dressed yet slightly embarrassed Harry came out. Draco came quickly to stand next to him, holding his hand defiantly in front of the Headmaster. "I understand you've both managed to recover well after the events of the early summer?" It wasn't really a question, and it appeared he knew exactly what had been going on in the castle.

"We weren't expecting to see anyone before the staff meeting, sir. Was there something else you wanted to discuss?" Draco seemed a little concerned, as he knew there was something the Headmaster wanted to say.

"Oh, the castle seemed quite busy last night... Ahh, there it is," he said in a very self-satisfied manner as he turned to face the wall, pulling back a tapestry that neither remembered being there the night before. Both Draco and Harry followed his gaze. Dumbledore did not seem surprised by the fact that there was now a door in the wall that once separated their rooms.

"How..."

"When..." Both seemed a little startled by the sudden appearance of the door.

Albus nodded knowingly and turned to leave. "I won't patronise either of you or spoil this wonderful time of your life, but I just needed to remind you both that this is a school, and that once the students arrive, I'll expect an adult level of propriety from my staff. You won't stop students from gossiping, and you certainly don't want to give them any more reason to talk." He looked down knowingly at them over the top of his glasses. "I think it prudent Harry, that you are always seen to be entering your rooms via your old door and not this one. We would hate for the School Board to locate that scroll that deals with fraternisation amongst unmarried staff... Now," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "I need to head down to the dungeons. Young Severus and Charles arrived back last night, and I think I need to have a bit of a chat with them as well."

Neither knew if Dumbledore had been half joking, drunk or out of his mind on lemon sherbets, but they seemed impressed by the castle's new addition. "I've often thought we needed a door. Double the space..." Harry suggested as he opened it up to his own rooms.

"Mmm, me too. You're definitely right, Harry. This castle does listen to your needs. I'd been thinking the same thing," he added with a smirk.

"I guess this means someone or something out there approves."

"Oh Merlin," Draco seemed suddenly upset. "This is going to make it so much harder to get rid of you!"

Harry was a little unsure by Draco's words, but sees the wide smile and realises the joke. He was then pulled into an embrace for a gentle kiss, which was broken when Harry burst out in a wide laugh.

"Oh, I really wish I had some Extendible Ears – I would love to hear Snape's reaction to Dumbledore's 'little talk'."

"I think I'm falling in love with your devious mind, Mr Potter."

"Only my mind?"

Draco bailed Harry up against the new door. "Oh... perhaps you could show me what other attributes you have to offer..."

--oo0oo--

They made it just in time for the start of the staff meeting. The entire faculty had now arrived and everyone greeted Harry warmly. Nobody seemed surprised that Draco stood beside him confidently. They agreed that they would not hide anything about their relationship from the staff, but the Daily Prophet had made sure the world already knew of their relationship. Naturally, they would show the necessary discretion around the students. They parted as the meeting started – Harry sitting next to Remus, and Draco sitting alongside the Potions master.

Draco got his first opportunity to see Severus since the holidays, and he still looked quite peaked. He and Charlie had spent a considerable amount of time in the warmer climates at Draco's chateau, but judging from the worried expression on Charlie's face, Severus was sicker than he looked – and he looked dreadful. Draco noticed the new pinched lines around his eyes, and the occasional spasm that would shudder through his hands. He was up and about and walking, but that didn't stop Draco's concern. It struck him for the first time that Severus was looking old. Even without his reading glasses he could see the new streaks of grey in Severus' hair. He began mentally making plans to take over as much of Severus' work as he possibly could. It was the least he could do. After all, he felt a strong twinge of guilt that Severus would not be in this condition if it weren't for him.

In his musings, he failed to notice the newcomer, and was about to lean over and talk to Severus when he was startled by the hostile tone of Harry's voice from across the table.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" A few of the older staff members turned and gasped at Harry's uncharitable and angered turn of phrase. Draco could not imagine who Harry would be talking to in such a way. He peered over, squinting and tapping his wand to his glasses unconsciously to correct his lenses. He didn't want to admit it to Harry, but his sight was not what it once was, and he reluctantly found himself relying more and more on his reading glasses. Harry thought he looked sexier in glasses, and found his reluctance endearing. Draco suspected he just wanted to get back at him for years of calling him a 'speccy git'.

He thought he was now imagining things as he saw the man at the brunt of Harry's ire. He recognised the over inflated ego from the sports pages of the Daily Prophet. There was no mistake that it was Oliver Wood - the wizard who had broken Harry's heart and the last person Harry obviously expected to see. Draco unconsciously gripped his wand harder, wishing he could leap up and hex the bastard. He deserved no less than having his balls hexed off and crushed to dust. Draco found himself mentally asking the same question as Harry, only he didn't think he would have been quite so eloquent. No wonder Harry was irate. Fortunately Draco's hearing was still as sharp as a Billywig sting.

"Chin up, Harry. No hard feelings, eh?" Oliver's grin was more smarmy than charming. "Seems old Hooch is enjoying motherhood a little too much. She put in her resignation only a couple of days ago. Thought I'd apply for something a little more... challenging and stimulating."

Harry was still blinking as he just stared at Oliver. He could not believe who he was seeing. He glanced quickly over at Draco, who had an unreadable look on his face as he watched. Harry was in a state of turmoil. Here was an ex lover sitting next to him as if nothing had happened between them, whilst his soul mate sat across the table shooting daggers with his eyes. He didn't know what to think, but he said the first thing that came to mind. "So I guess that the fact Puddlmere put you on the reserves bench for this year kinda hurt, eh? That's really too bad," he drawled, a habit he must have unconsciously picked up from Draco. "I hear that changing brooms too often can have a real effect on your performance."

The biting words silenced Oliver and he saw the approving look in Draco's eyes. Oliver followed Harry's brief gaze before he sniggered. "Oh, this is priceless. I'd heard that you were gadding about town with Malfoy, but he works here too?"

Harry opened his mouth in retort, but Dumbledore cleared his throat and the meeting came to order. Tension was high and Harry's eager excitement for the meeting was somewhat lost. Only the regular eye contact with Draco kept him from offering up another stream of bitter barbs aimed in Oliver's direction. Harry didn't need or want to revisit all the pain and horrid feelings that had plagued him for weeks after the betrayal. Why now?

He spent the session fidgeting with his quill and studiously avoiding glancing in Oliver's direction. It helped that Draco was doing his best to be supportive from the opposite side of the room. He tried to focus on the mundane details of Dumbledore's meeting, but it was difficult with the knowledge that Oliver was sitting right next to him.

He made a beeline for Draco the moment they took a quick break. "Are you all right?" Draco asked. "That bastard better have a fucking good reason for being here..." It seemed Draco was as incensed as he was. Harry knew he shouldn't be bothered by Oliver's presence, and one touch from Draco's hand coupled with the concern on his face made him realise that he was probably overreacting. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked over at where the new Quidditch master was holding audience.

"Don't worry, Draco, I'll be fine. It was just a shock seeing the git, that's all. If I had seen him on the street, or out in public... oh Merlin, he's going to be living here, isn't he?" Harry said with a sudden shock of realisation, all confidence in his voice gone.

"And that's going to be a problem because...?" Draco put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry knew he shouldn't be feeling that bad, and Draco's reassurance was exactly what he needed.

He took another deep breath. "I guess it's not. I'm just a little shaken up for seeing him. I didn't think I would react this way especially now after all this time. I'll be fine. Don't worry." He smiled and put his hand on Draco's, but he saw the lack of conviction in Draco's return smile.

Harry and Draco were the last to return to their seats. Harry sucked in a deep breath and totally ignored Oliver, turning towards Remus as he focused his attention on Dumbledore and his schedule of staff patrols for the first term.

Harry sniffed and realised that Oliver was wearing that cologne – the one his ex loved so much – the one Harry had scoured dozens of markets to find. Its lingering smell was dredging up a few old and unwanted memories – some quite bittersweet. It didn't help when the cheating cur leaned over and whispered in his ear. "I thought the Malfoy thing was only a rumour drummed up by the Prophet. Who would have thought it was true? Still, you don't want to get too clingy – he's a snake, and they're liable to turn nasty," he said with a hint of disdain. There might have been a tinge of regret in Oliver's tone, but Harry didn't particularly care.

A headache was forming behind his eyes, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to reign in his temper. "Sorry to disappoint, but it's all true," he hissed back, not wanting to get into an argument. If Oliver was here for a chance at reconciliation, Harry needed to put him straight almost immediately. "You should be clear on this, Oliver. I'm with Draco now, we're both deliriously happy, and what I do with my life is none of your fucking business. You gave up the right to that quite a while ago."

He turned back to the meeting to notice the stares of numerous staff members. He had not seen Minerva McGonagall stare at him so firmly in many years, and Draco's glare was unreadable. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly to everyone.

Oliver piped up. "It's my fault, I just asked Harry about the current state of affairs of the flying lessons. I guess I'll just wait for him to debrief me later."

Only Oliver could put a sexual connotation into that remark, and he wasn't the only one who gathered the double meaning. At this rate, his headache wasn't going to go away in a hurry. If suddenly felt as every last bit of his new confidence and self esteem had been banished the moment he heard the combination of that voice, that cologne, and the indelible image of Oliver's betrayal etched into the forefront of his memories. Why now?

He felt irrationally guilty and avoided Draco's gaze, even though he could feel it burning into his neck. However he did see the scowl on Charlie's face. It seemed that Oliver wasn't going to find too many friendly faces within the staff. What had Dumbledore been thinking when he employed that prat? The question begged to be asked, but at that moment, he just wanted to run and hide. Hogwarts felt like the last place he wanted to be, but running was not an option, not with his new responsibilities, and not now that he had Draco. He was just going to have to show Oliver that he would be a man about this, and not let the prat think for one moment that he had any control over him, even if he was slowly turning to a blubbering wreck inside.

--oo0oo--

Draco casually fingered his wand as he kept his hands carefully concealed under the table. All it would take would be one tiny hex, and Wood would be running and screaming for his mother. As much as he wanted to do it on the spot, he could be a very patient man. Now was not the right time to act, even if Wood was blatantly making Harry very uncomfortable. He noticed Charlie seemed equally unhappy about Oliver's presence, but he was probably the only other person at the table privy to the full extent of Oliver's betrayal. Remus showed a similar displeasure, and it made Draco feel good to know that all of Harry's friends felt the same way.

He was so caught up in giving Wood the evil death glare and creating fanciful scenarios that usually ended up with Wood having his bollocks hexed off, he paid little attention to the meeting. It came as a surprise, then, when they adjourned for lunch. Nearly everyone was gone, and Draco quickly saw Harry in deep conversation with Charlie, who seemed to be giving him plenty of reassurance. Wood was nowhere in sight.

Draco heard his name, and saw Severus beckoning from his conversation with Dumbledore. He stood and carefully made his way over to them. "...Which is why I find that I'll only be able to handle less than half my usual number of classes. I had hoped that my recovery would have progressed further by now, Albus, but it seems that it might have to wait until Christmas."

Dumbledore looked grave. "Are you sure you are up for that much, Severus?"

Severus nodded. "I know it's short notice, but I had hoped that we wouldn't need this at all. Madame Pomfrey will concur. I tried to locate Horace Slughorn, but he appears to be in poorer health than myself." Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

"I'd like to suggest perhaps that Mr Malfoy could be utilised more fully until the end of the year? I know it's not a part of his formal apprenticeship, but with classes starting in two days, I can't see any other alternative."

"What's this?" Draco asked, finally paying attention to the conversation.

Severus looked apologetic. "I had hoped to spare you, Draco. I did try to talk to you earlier about this, but I wasn't absolutely sure until this morning. I'm sorry, but it seems that I am not quite as fully recovered as I had hoped."

"You need me to assist – I understand, Severus," Draco finished. It must have pained Severus to have to admit to this weakness about his health. It was blatantly obvious to everyone that Severus was unwell. The tremors in his hands had barely stopped during the whole meeting. He had guessed for a while that Severus would not be brewing many of the potions that took up his time outside his teaching duties and he was fully prepared to take on that burden for Severus. Draco had wanted to discuss the problem with him discreetly, but it seemed they would be discussing it now.

"No, Draco. I need you to teach."

Draco just blinked and had nothing to say. Teaching.

"I trust you with all my students, Draco. I have no qualms that you would undoubtedly be a more effective educator than myself. Look, I know this isn't how you expected to continue with your apprenticeship as it will cut considerably into your research time. My recovery is not progressing as quickly as I expected, but I expect to have recovered enough by the new year. I fully expect to return to my full duties by then."

Draco saw Dumbledore's intense gaze as he was still processing this news. He could sense the unspoken Legilimency directed his way, but the intrusion was gone before he could process any sort of block. "Do you think you could handle teaching the first through fourth year students, Draco? I wouldn't be asking this if Severus didn't trust in your abilities. It will only be for this term, of course."

He looked at Severus' shaking hands and felt a stab of guilt. It was his fault. Did he have any other choice? "Sure" Draco shrugged. He could teach for four months. It was only half a normal teaching timetable, and the small part of his brain that was questioning his sanity in accepting was very quickly drowned out by a heavy sense of responsibility.

"Very well, it's settled." Dumbledore nodded.

Harry seemed pleased when he gave him the news – even a little excited. Unfortunately, it meant that he didn't have a chance to spend any time at all with Harry that day. He wanted to lend his support about Oliver, but Harry was putting on a brave face and convinced him that he could certainly put the git in his place. Draco wasn't convinced, but only when Harry physically dragged him out of the room to head down to Severus' office did he feel confident that Harry would be all right. Harry felt he might be able to handle his ex, but Draco had a deeply rooted suspicion that Wood's motivation to come and work at Hogwarts wasn't entirely noble. He wanted to keep a very close eye on the prat.

Unfortunately, Severus had other plans. It seemed he wanted to cram the entire term's curriculum into Draco's head all at once, and he wasn't in any rush. By mid afternoon, his head was aching and his eyes were throbbing from staring at parchments.

He felt confident with the curriculum and content he needed to teach, but he was suddenly daunted by the actual responsibility of teaching. He was going to be responsible for their learning, their minds and their safety. A sense of apprehension overwhelmed him and a tension headache began to play at the back of his neck. He realised he would have to put in more time than he anticipated. He hoped Harry would understand. Now, if only he didn't have to keep an eye on Oliver Wood at the same time...

Draco's confidence that he could hold his own in front of a class came from his tutoring at l'institut, but at least those students had all managed to 'Exceed Expectations' at NEWT level potions, so they were all able to brew beyond the basic level. Severus had prepared detailed dossiers on each student going into second through fourth years, and apparently most of them were certified imbeciles. Sweet Merlin, some of these kids make Longbottom look like a genius. Draco quickly reprimanded himself for such a thought. You have to stop being so uncharitable toward him – he's marrying Arianna. Still, He was rather clumsy around a cauldron. I hope for everyone's sake he's grown out of that.

Working through Severus' notes and plans made for a long day, but Draco knew it was necessary for both of them to go through things thoroughly. He spent a lot of time worrying about Harry, and tried to get back as soon as he could, but it was well after supper when he finally made it through the door of their rooms.

The fire was low and the only sound was the trill hooting of Melchett as he nested noisily atop the armoire. An answering hoot came from the high rafters, and he noticed that Harry's owl, Hedwig, was making herself comfortable. It seemed now he was not only inviting Harry in, but a menagerie. Noticing Draco's stare, Hedwig hooted dolefully and turned her back. He could have sworn Melchett sniggered, but he ignored them. Petite Amie greeted him with one open eye. It was cool in this late hour and she didn't plan on moving any time soon from her warm spot by the fire.

"Harry?" Draco called out in concern, but as he turned, he noticed the familiar mound in his bed, snoring quietly. He didn't realise he released a sigh of relief. Where else would Harry be? It was unusual for Harry to be asleep this early, but he let out his own deep yawn as he watched the subtle rise and fall of Harry's chest.

The earlier worry on Harry's face had not disappeared with sleep. That deep furrow in his brow was still there. He wanted to kiss away that worry and regretted his absence. He would have liked to talk about Wood, but responsibility came first - unfortunately. Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, he cast a quick spell to quietly take off his shoes. Harry stirred, and he quickly found himself pulled down into a sleepy and sloppy kiss.

"Everything all right?" Draco asked a sleepy Harry.

"Mmm, tired... big day... What... Did Snape bore you to death with fine details, or were you scrubbing out cauldrons?" Harry smiled, but Draco could sense Harry's unspoken concern.

"Severus is fine, but he's very thorough. The students are all incompetents, of course."

Harry snuffled sleepily in a half laugh. "Of course they are..."

Draco smiled as he quickly stripped before ducking down under the covers. His feet were cold but he refused to believe that his knee was causing poor circulation in his right leg. He automatically put his feet up against Harry's warm legs. Harry protested for just a second, but quickly pulled Draco in for a cuddle.

Harry snorted sleepily. "Draco, 'Choo don't think I'm clingy, do you?"

"What on earth would make you ask such a question?" Draco watched Harry, not sure why he asked.

Harry shrugged. "Just wondered, s'all."

Harry was asleep again before Draco cast the last of the spells to extinguish the lights. His mind raced, and it took a long time to fall asleep. Listening to the rhythmic rise and fall of Harry's breathing was helping. He was just about to nod off when he realised that this was the first night they had fallen asleep before making love. He was too tired to think any further on it, but his subconscious vehemently denied it had anything to do with the fact that Oliver Wood was now sleeping within the castle.

If only Harry had been awake five minutes longer, they could have had that conversation about Wood, and things might have played out differently over subsequent weeks.

--oo0oo--

Harry had also kept himself busy during that afternoon. Most of it was spent with Remus sorting out which days Harry would be teaching alone, and which days they would teach together. Remus was happy for some of the practical classes each week to be split so that each took half the students and they could devote more attention to them. In the back of his mind he knew that he needed to do a proper hand over of student progress to Oliver, and this thought played on his mind for most of the afternoon. He would have liked nothing better than to have shoved a folder of parchments under the bastard's nose, but thinking that he was going to be handing the job back to Hooch, he didn't do as thorough a preparation as he should.

He was still in shock over the sudden appearance of Oliver, who had proceeded to annoy him in every way. Harry had no idea what he thought he was doing, but the double entendres and blatant innuendo reminded him more of a slutty version of Gilderoy Lockhart than the Oliver he once remembered. Harry couldn't help wondering if he had really changed that much (he'd never expressed a desire to teach or coach before, but Oliver never thought too far beyond the next game), or if this was the real Oliver and he'd just been living under an illusion for all those months. This new persona of Oliver's truly reinforced Harry's ideas that he didn't want to talk to him or spend any time around him if possible. However, as he was forced to spend time around him for work-related duties, he found himself wanting to ask all the questions that had been left unanswered after that Valentine's night when he threw Oliver out of their apartment and out of his life. He knew logically that there was no need for it, those answers would make no difference in his life now that he'd found Draco, but Oliver tended to bring out the worst in him – including all his old insecurities.

Charlie, bless him, managed to rescue Harry before he could hex the new Quidditch master, and before the git could try to wangle any more information out of him about his love life. Harry dined with Charlie that night whilst Severus and Draco were locked away with their potions and their parchments. They talked about inconsequential things – mostly Charlie's plans for the Magical Creatures classes, but neither brought up the topic of Oliver Wood, even if Charlie left plenty of openings in the conversation for Harry to do so. Harry was grateful for the consideration, but he just wanted to get to bed and curl up next to Draco and forget all about the day. Oliver's words from earlier kept replaying, and he wondered if he was a little too clingy with Draco.

Of all the things he latched onto – it was that throw away comment of Oliver's.

Thankfully, Draco put that to paid when he finally joined him in bed.

As he fell asleep, his fears alleviated, he realised that he and Draco had barely done more than kiss since early that morning. Neither seemed to have the energy to do more than just hug, which seemed to be all he needed right now.

---

II. All that you build...

Monday September 1, 2003

The first of September was always a busy day at Hogwarts. The students might not be arriving until late, but the teachers had worked all day in preparation. Harry woke with a headache, and Draco somehow tossed and turned all night. Neither of them got the solid sleep they needed, and they woke late – foregoing T'ai Chi. Draco barely had time for a cup of coffee, as Harry prepared toast lathered in lemon curd. A quick peck on the cheek and they were both out the door.

It was a long and physically tiring day for Harry. A second Defence classroom opposite the main one had been put aside for Harry, and he wanted it to mirror Remus' room in every way possible. He could have just used magic to rearrange the room, but he didn't mind the hard work. He also didn't want to admit that he was tired, and his wand arm was feeling a little off. He really didn't want to risk his magic becoming erratic. He would avoid casting any spells as long as he could, and get a good night's sleep. It was almost as if his magical stores were depleted and needed a day to recharge. He hated this lack of magical control and he was unused to it as he became healthier. Unfortunately, today was one of the bad days, and it was frustrating.

Of course it hadn't help that he wasted so much energy the previous day stressing about Oliver. He was angry at himself for letting the git get to him. Surely it wasn't pure coincidence the git took the job, but Harry knew he needed to be able to continue normally, even with Oliver around. Having Draco around was a blessing, for he knew he was going to need the support.

For his part, Draco spent the better part of the day surrounded by the remaining stores that needed bottling, labelling and storing. It was one of his least favourite and most thankless of tasks. Ever mindful of the date, he knew he would have to start some early preparations on the Wolfsbane within the next couple of days. Having two werewolves to work with was exciting, and he hoped the classes would not interfere with his research. The current formula seemed to be working well, but Draco wanted to decrease the amount of Belladonna in the base and replace it with Murtlap. It was something he suspected might make a difference.

He looked forward to seeing Maggie again. Draco had met the young lass during the summer when Remus had brought her to the school during the last full moon. Harry had also been eager to meet her and Draco was as surprised as everyone else to learn that Harry and Maggie had already met. Harry later told him that there was no way he could forget that child, as she had struck a chord within him when he met her on the street a few months earlier. She still seemed shy, but there was an inner strength that he could see slowly blossoming. Harry suspected there was something special about her, and had no inkling she carried such a curse, as she seemed to take it in her stride.

Unfortunately, she would barely have enough time to settle into school before her first transformation on September 10. Remus had a special room attached to his quarters that he used during the full moon. Over the summer he had worked to turn an abandoned storeroom near the kitchens into a room for Maggie's use.

The school board were fully aware of her situation, but new laws pass by the Minister, Arthur Weasley, prevented any discrimination against her being educated, provided the school had adequate safety measures in place. The secure room and the Wolfsbane potion certainly covered that aspect.

Remus had spent both summer transformations with Maggie, just so that her wolf became familiar with Remus in his wolf form, and she wouldn't spend the full moon howling and fretting over his smell or his presence in the castle. Draco never commented on this wolf pack behaviour, but it was so much more than Remus ever had as a student.

Even before her first day at Hogwarts, Little Maggie Gadbury had already developed the power to wrap grown men around her finger.

Harry managed to successfully avoid Oliver the whole day – or at least he thought he had. He had only just arrived in his room (he almost opened the door to Draco's room, but the wizard in the painting between the door whistled and cocked his head in the direction of Harry's room to remind him), when he heard a confident knock.

He thought it might have been Remus, but as he turned, he got a bittersweet whiff of cologne and all pretence of hospitality was driven away. Oliver was lolling around in the doorway, not even waiting to be invited in. Harry knew for a fact that Oliver's rooms were half way across the castle in another staff wing (he had made a discreet enquiry to Minerva about that. It seemed that Remus and Charlie had already advised the Deputy Headmistress of their awkward situation). It seemed that everyone decided that putting Oliver as physically far away from Harry as possible was a good move. He was extremely grateful for that consideration, although it couldn't prevent the git from loitering around his rooms.

"I don't remember saying that you could come in," he said with a sigh. "What are you doing here, Oliver?"

"Hello to you too, Harry. Must you keep up this hostility?" he asked in an apparently genuine tone. "You seemed to be quite proud to tell me yesterday that you were 'over us'. I'm beginning to wonder if that's really the case." Oliver gave the room an appraising glance. "Nice place, anyway. A little... sterile and cold, even by your obsessively clean standards." Harry wanted to protest. Yes, it looked fairly barren, but he spent most of his time now in Draco's rooms, which were lighter and airier. He spotted the scowling faces in the myriad of photo montages adorning the room and shook his head. He wasn't going to be affected by Oliver's assessment of his life. He had no right.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, whatever. I'll ask again. What do you want?"

"I just wanted to chat... to catch up." Harry's mouth fell to the floor. Oliver seemed oblivious as he wandered over to the sideboard and opened the decanter of Firewhisky, helping himself to a glass. "Despite what happened, Harry, I am concerned for your welfare. I had to see for myself."

"How... noble." Harry had not moved. He feared his temper as he saw Oliver standing there drinking his Firewhisky as if they had never broken up. "As you can see, my welfare is quite well taken care of, thanks for asking."

"You're really with Malfoy?" Oliver asked, his tone changing somewhat to disbelief.

"You obviously are hard of hearing, Oliver. Of course we're together. Why would I say something like that? Are you disappointed that he's not available, or are you hoping that we might give you a free show as proof?"

"I just never thought... you... and Malfoy. Last I remember you were trading insults on the Quidditch pitch and you creamed his arse each game. Of course you're still creaming his arse..." Oliver couldn't help the crude innuendo.

"Yes, well I never thought I'd see you in bed with two other men when we were supposedly a couple." Harry was trying to reign in his temper. "At least I know he doesn't lie to me, or pretend to love me."

Oliver raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You seem so sure of that... He's a Slytherin, Harry, they can't be trusted."

"Funny," Harry replied in a monotone. "Only Gryffindors have ever betrayed me. You'll excuse me for giving him the benefit of the doubt."

Oliver said nothing as he stood there and rolled the whisky around in his mouth.

"Look, if you're just here to be a shit stirrer, Oliver, then you can just get out. If I find that you've just taken this job for shits and giggles, then I'll be making sure the school Board finds out."

"Far be it for me to tell you how to live your life, Harry. I know too well that you will always do whatever you damn well please anyway. I just hope that for your sake, Malfoy is willing to follow you in that direction." Oliver drained the dregs in his glass, and slammed it down on the table. He brushed past Harry and put a comforting hand on his cheek. "I actually do care about your welfare, Harry – we were friends once. I know things didn't turn out between us, but do you really think Malfoy's changed that much? I mean, yeah, he's fit and all... quite fit, actually, apart from that gammy knee..."

"Why thanks for the assessment, Wood," Draco drawled from the doorway. Harry sighed in relief and Oliver turned in surprise, his eyes flashing. "As I hear it, Harry threw you out – with very good reason. Now, I believe he asked you a question. Exactly what do you want here?" He was leaning heavily on his cane, and he glanced reassuringly in Harry's direction before confronting Wood.

"Malfoy," Oliver nodded and offered a hand to shake. Draco looked at it as if he were being offered a wet fish, but made no move to accept it. Oliver seemed a little surprised and taken aback as he nodded casually. He stuck his neck out and adjusted his collar, turning back to Harry. "Actually, I was hoping we could still be friends."

Harry was incredulous. "Friends? What part of 'I kicked you out of my life' don't you understand, Oliver? We might have been friends back in school, Oliver, but I made some dumb decisions back then," he looked pointedly at Draco as he said that, "and we've all changed since then. I'm no longer a gullible first year, and as such I have no interest in your company in any way."

"In case that was too many big words for you, Wood, Harry's not interested. Neither am I, if that's what you're after." Draco spoke up, putting a supporting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now, if I ever..."

"What Draco is trying to say, Oliver," Harry grabbed Draco's wand hand and held it firmly in his, "is just stay away. I'm over you, and you gave up all rights of salvaging any skerrick of friendship the moment I found out what you had really been doing behind my back. I'll be professionally civil to you in front of the other staff and the students when necessary, but don't ever expect anything more."

"Very well," the playful smirk at the corner of Oliver's face was gone. He rose to his full height, and somehow managed to turn his nose up at them. "Don't worry, I can take a hint. If that's the way you want to be. Seems Malfoy is rubbing off on you after all." He turned and walked away, his expression unreadable.

Harry couldn't stop staring as his ire rose. "The... audacity. How... who does he think he is?"

"He thinks he's Oliver Wood – sexiest thing to ever mount a broom..." Draco replied. He seemed bursting with questions, but Harry quickly cut him off.

"Before you ask, I didn't invite him in. He thought he could just barge in here and take over. Guess he's used to doing that. He didn't give me any warning... he was just here. Thanks for getting him out of here."

Draco nodded, staring at the now closed door. "I still don't trust him. He's up to something."

"Yes, I know he is. I don't trust him either," Harry added. They both looked toward the door and kept private thoughts on exactly what Oliver Wood might be up to.

--oo0oo--

Harry's mood was still sour by the time the first years were making their way to the front of the Great Hall. He was physically tired, and Oliver's presence threw a wet blanket over everything. He tried to forget about Oliver, and knew that despite his best efforts to get over the betrayal, having the git standing there as if nothing had ever happened really made it difficult for him to move on.

Draco wore a scowl as he scrutinised the room, no doubt mentally scheming as his gaze clamped firmly on Oliver when he arrived. Harry knew better than to ask, for he had a very good idea of what Draco might be wanting to do as he unconsciously stroked at his wand. Harry would like nothing better than to hex Oliver into oblivion, but he decided that he really wasn't worth the effort. Besides, with his magic a little erratic, there was no telling how much damage he could wreak.

Harry was bone tired, and he could see the tiredness also in Draco's eyes. The new and sudden responsibility must be quite daunting for him, but Draco seemed to take it in his stride. Harry knew Draco wasn't complaining because he felt a little guilty for Snape's condition, but he had every confidence Draco could cope.

The Sorting Hat's song had something to do with friendship and communication, but Harry wasn't listening to a word. He barely even blinked when it jumped down from the stool and started a jig in front of an unamused Professor McGonagall. His mood, however, was quickly brightened by the sight of young Maggie standing there in her school robes. The first years seemed to be getting smaller and smaller than what he remembered, but Maggie seemed even smaller by comparison. Despite her lack of stature, he could see the hidden strength in the way she carried herself. Such a courageous child. He noticed Draco was looking at her fondly, as was Remus.

Harry had no particular desire to look to his right, for he could still sense Oliver's presence in the room. He resigned himself to the fact that he was just going to have to get used to it. If he was going to lapse into memories every time he got a whiff of that cologne, then he was certainly going to have to build up his reserves. He made a note to reinforce his barriers by meditating more often. I forgot my T'ai Chi this morning, and I'm bone tired. No wonder I'm letting Oliver get to me. I'll have to talk to Draco about it later. Perhaps we can work on a way to get over it together. I just want him to make me forget.

Seeing Maggie nearly swamped by her robes made Harry quite nostalgic for his own sorting. The ceremony was underway, with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff gaining the first students. As Maggie's name was called, a rising whisper started down at the student tables. It seemed that the rumour of a werewolf student had already reached their ears. They could not refuse her entry to the school, but they didn't have to like it. A few dared to look up in Remus' direction as the werewolf student rumour spread, but he was giving everyone his sternest stare.

All the teachers were focused on Maggie as she walked the few steps toward the Sorting Hat. She seemed oblivious to all the attention. Everyone gave her a warm smile, and she gave a small wave as she passed Remus. She showed no apprehension at sitting on the stool as the Sorting Hat nearly engulfed her whole head.

The hat seemed to take an inordinately long time in choosing her house. Harry was so anxious, he almost didn't hear it when the hat finally shouted "SLYTHERIN!"

He was struck dumb. How could such an innocent young thing end up in Slytherin? "It's not possible," he unconsciously said aloud – louder than the surrounding applause anyway. He found he hadn't clapped, and was stunned by the concerned look on Maggie's face as she watched him. She didn't seem at all bothered by the Hat's pronouncement. If anything, she seemed quite pleased. She slowly made her way down to the Slytherin table, and was greeted warmly by her fellow housemates, despite the catcalls and boos from the other houses.

Draco seemed almost proud that Maggie was in Slytherin. He had not failed to notice Harry's reaction (or hear his disbelief) and his subsequent behaviour at the feast was decidedly cool. Harry hoped it had as much to do with his regular stares in Oliver's direction as it did with his comment.

Before he knew it, the sorting was over and Dumbledore was filling everyone's heads with useless words before introducing the new teachers. The applause for Harry was thunderous, as it was for Oliver. Many clapped politely when Draco was introduced as the Potions Professor for the younger grades. Many suspected that he would be a soft touch after Snape. The applause died down as they began to tuck into the feast.

He really couldn't understand it. Maggie would be eaten alive in Slytherin. She seemed too innocent to truly belong there. He could only guess that the hat saw something in her dark curse that justified her sorting into that house. Draco's mouth was pursed and his mole quivered as he ate. Harry knew he was unhappy, judging from the firm line of his mouth. No doubt they would discuss this afterwards. What was there to say? That he didn't think she should be in that house? He was surprised and concerned. What was the problem with that?

Harry thought he would start the inevitable conversation. "I just don't understand that Sorting Hat..."

"We'll talk about this later, Harry," Draco said coolly, that reserved Malfoy mask suddenly raised. Harry just blinked and stared. Was he really that angry?

Draco said nothing as they eventually made their way back to their rooms after the feast. The first words out of his mouth were almost hissed as they reached the door of their rooms. "You're supposed to use your door, remember?"

Harry nodded as he nearly forgot.

Draco was pouring himself a drink when Harry came into their rooms. Draco spoke before Harry had a chance to open his mouth. "I honestly thought you were over your house prejudice, Harry. Are you going to tell me why you think Slytherin isn't good enough for Maggie?" Draco sounded hurt and somewhat defensive.

Harry shrugged. "She just doesn't strike me as being the Slytherin type."

"The Slytherin type?" Draco was still on the defensive. Harry had a strange feeling that no matter what he said, he was only digging himself in deeper. This was a side of Draco he had not seen in years, and having it directed his way was not something he ever thought to see again. "What makes you so sure you know exactly what is the Slytherin type?"

"What do you want me to say, Draco? I won't pretend I wasn't surprised, I just can't see Maggie thriving in Slytherin. If anything, she seems too innocent to be in that house. I'm worried that her housemates will skin her alive in her sleep. I mean that metaphorically," he added hastily.

"So now you're saying all Slytherins are thugs?" Draco replied in an unreadable tone. Harry sighed heavily. He knew he should have been a little more tactful. Bringing up the subject had not been his best idea.

"Can't we talk about this in the morning? When I'm not so tired and you're not putting me on the spot?" Harry pleaded. "You have to admit that it's going to take generations for Slytherin to lose its tarnish. I won't be the only one making a snap judgement, no matter how wrong. I just don't know how well she'll cope in the future having to constantly battle that stigma of Slytherin – and don't try to deny it – you know better than anyone else what I'm talking about. That's going to be an extra burden on top of her curse."

Draco was fiercely proud of his house, but knew Harry had a point. He closed his mouth, conceding the point. "Perhaps the Sorting Hat saw her driving ambition – a constant need to prove herself against adversity. Perhaps it put her into Slytherin so that she could make friends with the people who could help best nurture that drive and encourage her," Draco said quietly.

Harry could see his point. Maggie could not have made it this far without great strength of character. He was about to open his mouth to agree, but Draco wasn't finished yet. "The last time I checked, Slytherin house wasn't just full of Dark Lords and Potions masters. Besides, you seem to forget that despite a few bad eggs, most Slytherins have managed to become normal working members of society. We didn't corner the market on Death Eaters and bullies either, as you well know."

Harry was feeling uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. He regretted ever opening his mouth, and wished desperately for a Time Turner.

"Can we just forget I ever opened my mouth and said anything, Draco? I... I'm just tired, s'all." Harry's yawn wasn't just for effect, he really was exhausted.

Draco's expression was still cast in stone as he banished away the empty glass. "We'll talk about it later, then." He headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Harry seemed confused. It was late. He was ready for bed, yet Draco made to leave.

"I have to go down to the dungeons to meet the Slytherins. Severus wants me to get more involved that way, just so the students realise I'm actually a professor, not just an apprentice."

"Oh, I didn't know." You probably would have told me if we didn't start arguing. "When will you be back?" Harry couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. He wanted to just snuggle up against Draco in bed, and forget this day, hopefully losing himself in a few moments of bliss.

Harry clamped him on the shoulder before he left, and gave him a quick kiss. "I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath.

Draco let out a breath as his mask fell somewhat. "That's okay. I'm just a little stressed too. I wasn't expecting all this. It's a different responsibility, one I don't know if I really want, but I have to do it for Severus. After Wood pissed me off earlier, little Maggie was the one bright spot about tonight, and you... well, I thought you would have been happy for her."

Harry knew better than to say anything, so he just nodded. Draco continued. "If anything," he almost whispered, "she does have a strength of character that reminds me of..." Draco shook his head. "No matter, I'm not going to dredge up more depressing shit."

"She reminds you of Daphne, doesn't she?" Harry replied quietly. Draco just nodded. Now Harry could see why Draco was so pissed off. Harry had just insulted the memory of his first love, and now he felt even more like shit.

He tried waiting up for Draco to return, wondering just how he could make everything better. It was hard to change a lifetime of thinking about Slytherins. Harry had started to change his opinions about Snape and Draco after he realised the work they did during the war, but that hadn't quite extended to everyone else in Slytherin house. He was going to have to work hard to try and overcome that. As he fell asleep, he noted that Draco hadn't once insulted Gryffindor, and it made him feel even worse.

He fell asleep before Draco came back. He vaguely remembered a kiss and a warm body pressed up to his, but when he woke up, the bed beside him was again empty. He could hear familiar sounds and knew that Draco was already in his lab. It seemed Draco was going to take this teaching gig quite seriously, which was commendable, but he worried if this was what Draco wanted. Harry pondered this as he did his T'ai Chi. He knew it was being done out of a sense of duty, but he guessed that Draco would take on more stress and worry than was absolutely necessary.

That worried him. He made apology by bringing in a cup of coffee for Draco, and they had a long kiss. He said no more on the topic of their disagreement, and Draco didn't bring it up either. He made his own apology for not being able to make it to T'ai Chi. He was busy, and Harry could sense the first day nerves. He was hiding them well, but Draco was mentally making lists and burying himself in this new work. If anything went wrong, he would be making a melodrama of it. It was endearing and made Harry smile.

They never mentioned Maggie's sorting again, but Harry knew that something unresolved was hanging over their heads. It felt like a leaking pipe that had been temporarily patched up with Spellotape. He knew it was only a temporary fix, but he wanted to hold out as long as possible before getting a permanent repair.

Oddly enough, he was halfway through a class when it struck him that they'd not made love since Oliver Wood stuck his great size 12 dragon-hide boots back in their lives. He dismissed that thought just as quickly, but it stayed – nagging and eating away at the very back of his mind.

---

III. All that you break...

A subtle shift in their lives occurred after that day. If Harry had to go back and pinpoint the cause, he would probably blame Oliver, but he was wary of saying anything about Maggie's sorting, which led him to avoiding other topics with Draco that might be contentious. This included the topic of Oliver. He hated fighting, and didn't want to trigger Draco's ire, which was close to the surface now that he had to deal with students on a daily basis. They were both so busy with work that the subtle nuances of their relationship fell by the wayside. They did, however, make time every morning for their T'ai Chi, causing a few glances in their direction by a few early rising students.

They did everything in their power to ignore Oliver, who seemed to be constantly hanging around the fringes. Unfortunately, it was always in public places, where he had every right to be, which annoyed the crap out of Harry.

Harry was revelling in his role as Remus' assistant. He never felt happier about his career as he threw himself into lesson planning and preparation. The actual teaching was a joy, and naturally, most of the students loved him. Many thought he would be a soft touch (particularly since he was so easy going as a Quidditch instructor), but they were sadly mistaken.

Some of his classes were verging on reckless, but Dumbledore and Remus had both seen the need for these lessons, and approved their delivery. Looks could be deceiving, and once he gained the students trust with his affable behaviour, he made a very poignant point. Most students warmed to him easily, and some trusted him implicitly. One day he began turning his wand on them and casting some rather painful (but certainly not dangerous) spells. Only a few of the students were prepared with shield charms, so the majority spent the day rubbing at sore spots on their bodies.

It might not have been delivered in the same 'in your face' style as Moody, but the message about constant vigilance was delivered just the same. If it meant that students thought twice before judging, or made them more on their guard when meeting strangers, then his job was done.

At the same time, many of the younger students thought they were going to have an easy time of Potions classes without crotchety old Snape. They could not have been more mistaken. Professor Malfoy's tolerance level seemed to be even lower than Snape's, which caused quite a number of mediocre students to leave class crying, or scrabbling and working twice as hard to get a satisfactory result. Draco was constantly frustrated by the students' lack of aptitude for the subject. It was a concept he was unwilling to accept, as it came so naturally to him and was such an important part of his life. He was not reticent in showing them his displeasure.

In his frustration, he might have seemed snappish and scowled often. That wasn't to say he was unfair in meting out justice. He only took off points for stupidity and incompetence, and that was spread evenly amongst the four houses. But the students who showed an aptitude for brewing were few and far between, and Draco found himself gravitating to those students. He would return to his rooms highly strung and often stressed. Having to clean up after several dangerous near misses a day was beginning to take its toll.

If he didn't appreciate Severus' fortitude before, he certainly did now. He unconsciously found himself counting down the days to Christmas, even if a part of him knew realistically that Severus wasn't going to be back to teaching classes by then. Harry certainly offered plenty of sympathy, even if he thought Draco might have been a little unreasonable with his hellishly high standards. He seemed to be of the opinion that the students had to make mistakes to be able to learn from them, and where else could they make those mistakes except at school. Draco didn't think philosophy worked well in a Potions classrooms surrounded by volatile ingredients, but he never corrected Harry's opinions. He really didn't want to fight.

It was a stressful time for the both of them, with their routines often getting in the way of their love life. Their summer of passionate lovemaking had turned into brief, yet intense sessions that seemed to be occurring all too infrequently for either of them. It played on both their minds, but neither of them seemed able to broach the topic in conversation.

It's nothing really. I'm sure all relationships fizzle a bit in the physical department. We're connected on a deep spiritual level, and that's what's really important in a relationship, right? Harry knew, even as he tried to convince himself of this, that there was a sceptical voice deep within him worrying about their decrease in sexual activity, the nagging proximity of Oliver Wood and the toll of their busy schedules on their personal time.

Friday 10 October

The disagreement over Maggie seemed to be all but forgotten in Harry's opinion. But then again, he never brought it up and neither did Draco. Even so, she always seemed to be at the forefront of his thoughts. The students usually had varying reactions when first meeting Harry Potter, but most of them verged on awe of some degree. Maggie had none of that wide eyed awe, and she seemed rather proud of the fact she had met him before Hogwarts. She never seemed to gloat about it, but it helped her to carry an air of comfortable familiarity and she would always give him a wide smile.

He had kept a very watchful eye on her, and she appeared to be doing quite well, which pleased him no end. Her head was always held high and she seemed to have made a couple of young friends. What surprised him the most was the small band of first and second year boys who seemed to constantly follow her around. She seemed oblivious to their presence, which made Harry smirk even more. She was going to be quite a handful when she was a little older, and the hormones kicked in.

She proved to be an average student with no real outstanding skills in any particular area. She seemed very keen on Potions, but that was possibly mostly to do with necessity more than anything else. Her very close relationship with Draco, and a realisation she was going to need to take the Wolfsbane potion for the rest of her life might have also spurred her on.

Harry had to reassess his initial opinion of her. Far from the innocent gem he thought she would be, Maggie was also rather adept at getting herself caught out in trouble. Harry watched as yet again she was about to throw a hex at her bullying foster sister, Corrine, who was obviously just waiting for an opportunity to catch her alone. Harry stepped in before Maggie earned herself yet another detention. Young Corrine, however, had obviously not learned her lesson about bullying, and she wondered how she managed to land in detention when Maggie got off without any apparent punishment.

"You know, Maggie," Harry walked with her back to the Slytherin common room, "throwing hexes when you're angry isn't usually the best way to solve problems. It doesn't make the problem go away, it just only gets you into trouble."

"I know, sir, but she always tries to goad me just before the full moon, and I can't help but snap back." Harry nodded in understanding, and realised it might be more difficult to curb if it was a symptom of the lycanthropy. Remus was usually a little less patient on the days leading up to the full moon. He would just have to keep an eye on Corrine on those days. Maggie was still talking. "Did you ever get into trouble when you were at school, Professor Potter?"

Harry just smiled. "I might have had my fair share of detentions, Maggie, but I had to learn to control my temper. Hexing people doesn't really solve anything. A friend of mine once tried to hex Professor Malfoy, and it ended up rebounding. He was throwing up slugs for a day. It wasn't pleasant."

The story got the desired response and Maggie giggled. "Corrine thinks it's fun to tease me about my condition. She seems to turn up whenever I'm alone. I try to ignore her, but she is so persistent. I was hoping she might ignore me now that I'm not in her house, but at least I have friends who I didn't have to bully to get." Her smile was infectious and Harry couldn't help but grin too.

"I told you that you would make friends here, didn't I?" She nodded. Harry knew he could now easily broach the subject. "Is anyone in Slytherin giving you a hard time about your lycanthropy?"

"Oh no, nobody is, Professor. Just Corrine... and a few of the Gryffindors occasionally say stuff, but I just tell them that I'll be talking to Professor Lupin, and they keep quiet."

"Well then, you are very lucky." Harry seemed relieved and somewhat surprised about the other Slytherins, but he was very glad he was wrong about them.

"Where are we going, Professor?" Maggie asked as Harry began to take her to the corridor that lead down to the dungeons.

"Aren't you heading down to your common room? You should really be doing your homework before dinner."

Maggie blushed, and looked at him with eyes wide. "But sir! Have you forgotten already? It's a full moon... I was just on my way to see Drac... Professor Malfoy."

Harry realised his own mistake. He knew it was the full moon because he'd been planning to teach the Defence classes on his own the following day.

"Of course you are. Well, since I'm headed back that way, why don't we go and visit Professor Malfoy together?" Harry was feeling a little guilty for ever thinking Maggie could not cope in Slytherin, but he was glad her answers were positive. If any of the Slytherins had given her an ounce of trouble, he would have been down there so quickly...

"Promise me now that you will come to me if you ever have any trouble from your housemates, won't you."

She nodded. "Professor Malfoy's already made the same offer," she smiled. "He was a Slytherin too... oh, but you knew that, right?"

Harry smiled widely. "Yes, I know that."

"You know, I'm really glad I chose Slytherin," she admitted quietly.

Harry was completely surprised. "You chose... what do you mean?" Long forgotten memories of his own sorting was coming back, and he had a sense of déjà vu.

She shrugged, "Oh, well the hat said I could do well in either Gryffindor or Slytherin. I remember hearing that Drac... Professor Malfoy was a Slytherin, and he's been so nice to me when I came here this summer. I thought perhaps Slytherin might help me to be really clever like him."

Harry smirked and nodded. "Yes, Professor Malfoy has that effect on people when they are wearing the Sorting Hat," he mumbled. Now things were making sense.

"What do you mean, Sir?" Maggie asked. "Wasn't I supposed to do that?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"No, of course not. You had a choice to make, and that's always difficult. You made your choice for noble reasons, and so you must have done the right thing. Professor Dumbledore always says that it's our choices that make us who we are. I used to hear that all the time, then one day I realised he was quite correct!"

Maggie seemed to be absorbing every word with her eyes wide and a serious look on her face. She was starting to look weary, and Harry realised that it was getting closer to sunset.

"Where do you spend the night of the full moon?" he asked.

"Remus... Professor Lupin has a special room made up for me next to the kitchens."

Harry couldn't help but look worried. He knew the transformation would be painful, despite Draco's Wolfsbane potion. "That's okay, Maggie. You know, if you want to call us by our names when we're in private company, that's okay. Remus and Draco don't mind, and you can call me Harry, if you like. Will you be okay tonight?" he asked automatically.

"Don't worry about me, Harry," she whispered as they headed up the last corridor. "I've done this loads of times before. It hurts," she was reassuring him, "but Professor Ma... Draco's potion really just makes me tired, and after the transformation, I just feel like sleeping. I didn't wake up until I was transforming back last month. That made the time go faster, and because I didn't do anything to hurt myself, the pain didn't seem to stay around as long."

Harry could not believe this tiny girl was describing such a painful experience as the werewolf transformation. She made it sound no more painful than having to work on an unpleasant assignment. He quickly decided to change the subject.

"I hear from Professor Wood that you are quite talented on a broom," he offered in way of an apology. He ignored Oliver for the most part, but he couldn't help but listen when he overheard a conversation with Professor Flitwick about her innate talent.

She smiled broadly at the thought of her first broom lessons. "It was so much fun! The broom just came to me, and I flew!" Her whole demeanour changed for the better as she talked about flying. Harry could not help his own broad grin as she kept talking.

"So Professor Wood thinks you might be good enough to try out for your house Quidditch team?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, suddenly sullen, "but..."

"...But what?"

"But I've never played Quidditch. I love to fly, but I don't know if I would be any good with the game. I've never played before."

Harry sized her up in less than a fraction of a second. With her tiny frame and her apparent talent on a broom, Harry sensed his own record as the youngest Seeker in a Century might soon be broken.

"I'll let you in on a secret – I never learned about the game until the day after I was picked for my Quidditch team. Perhaps you just need some tuition – at least so you can show your talent when Slytherin has their team tryouts. I know they are looking for a Seeker this year."

Maggie's eyes lit up with excitement, but she was quickly subdued. "I thought about asking Professor Wood, but he's always too busy to help anyone after class."

Harry pursed his lips temporarily at Oliver's dismissal of the students. What sort of teacher was he if he didn't attempt to help them? He wondered for a moment exactly what possessed Oliver to come to Hogwarts. He had certainly never expressed a desire to teach before. No doubt the loss of status at Puddlemere hurt his ego. 'Quitting' the league to become a coach still left him with his dignity intact with his fans. Undoubtedly that was the sort of story he would spin when looking for others to share his bed. Harry shook his head. Why would he ever waste any time thinking on Oliver?

He turned back to Maggie. "Well I'm not too busy. I you like, I could take you out and show you how to play Quidditch..."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I can show you how to play, and what you need to do as a Seeker. You're just the right size for that position, but we can see if you might make a better Chaser or Keeper. But we should keep it a secret. We wouldn't want everyone to know what we're up to. We could surprise Professor Malfoy when you come to try out for his old team. He used to play Seeker for Slytherin, you know."

He knew from the immutable smile that she would have turned around on the spot to go to the pitch and start lessons, if not for the full moon. Planting the idea in her head seemed to be a very good diversionary tactic. Maggie quickly forgot her glumness at the impending transformation as she winked at Harry as he left her with Draco and Remus. His offer to help her had been genuine. If she was talented enough to be a Seeker, then she needed someone to guide her. That person should have been the Quidditch master, but he was obviously too busy polishing his broom to care.

His own reasons for offering help to Maggie were not entirely without benefit to him. Helping her get onto the Quidditch team might go a long way to balancing the scales and make things up to Draco for his slur against Slytherin at the Sorting feast. It would be a great surprise for Draco, and he couldn't wait to see the look on his face when she tried out.

---

IV. All that you reason...

The tutoring sessions for Maggie had become something of a secret thrill for Harry. He grudgingly admitted that Oliver could recognise raw talent on a broom, and he had not been mistaken about the girl's skill. Natural instinct combined with very quick reflexes proved that she was going to be hard to beat as a Seeker. There was no question the Slytherin team would select her, but Harry was enjoying the time on the broom, knowing that it was all he could do to apologise to Draco for ever having questioned Maggie's sorting.

Draco had been right about Slytherin being the right house for Maggie. Once she overcame her shyness, and her confidence had been boosted, she proved to be a determined young lady who needed to prove herself. Her assured determination to excel at learning Quidditch made her a perfect student. Harry reluctantly admitted that she was much faster and quicker to the Snitch than he ever was, but he conceded that age and size were both against him now. Teamed with his Firebolt HP, she was a joy to watch in the skies.

In all the time he spent down on the pitch and in the Quidditch sheds, he was fortunate to avoid running into Oliver. The git was rarely there after classes. He was so busy pandering to his 'fan club' to notice that they were regularly using the pitch. Harry was grateful for once for Oliver's over-inflated ego, but it made it easier for him to help Maggie without any interference.

Keeping it hidden from Draco was a little harder. He had been questioned more than once about the amount of time he was spending down at the Quidditch pitch. His sudden interest in getting back on a broom so often seemed a little suspicious to Draco, and Harry sensed what Draco might be really thinking. He could banish the sweat soaking his Quidditch robes, but even then he could barely hide the windburn on his face or the extra tangles in his hair. He knew it was hard enough for Draco to see him enjoying himself on a broom (when he had trouble just walking to the Great Hall), so he tried his best to say nothing and not rub his enjoyment in Draco's face. There was something bothering Draco, but he knew the surprise with Maggie would make his deception worthwhile.

After another session where Maggie was learning the finer points about dodging Bludgers, he headed back to their rooms. His timing was perfect for sneaking back in for a quick shower. Draco was quite the creature of habit, and with his new class responsibilities, his timetable had become predictable. He should be having his regular afternoon tea with Remus. Despite all the extra work with the teaching, he was still putting in a huge amount of time into his Wolfsbane research, which made Harry smile. His priorities were evident, and he knew that Maggie was quite enamoured with him, if her constant chatter of 'Draco this and Professor Malfoy that' was anything to go by. Of course Harry agreed with her on every point. Draco was so easy to fall in love with, but then again, Maggie had somehow managed to sneak past both their defences as they found themselves caring more for her welfare over that of all of the other students.

This was a night when they weren't expected to be in the Great Hall for dinner, which meant that they could spend an evening in their rooms with a quiet, home cooked meal. They usually could take one weeknight and one weekend night away from the constant stare of the students, and they tried to make the most of this staff privilege. Harry took over cooking duties, which didn't bother Draco in the least. After slaving over hot cauldrons and chopping up ingredients for most of the day, Draco was quite grateful. Besides, he knew he enjoyed cooking.

Draco would always choose a wine to go with Harry's chosen menu. Harry would always be fond of white wines, but Draco was slowly trying to develop his taste in good red wines. Even so, Harry would often try to swing the balance in his favour by cooking mostly Asian influenced dishes, or dishes with seafood, which always went best with a white wine.

Their good hearted debates about wine would usually end with the wine having been imbibed, then one trying to outdo the other in picking on the wine whilst they sat on the couch in front of the fire. Harry always found it very difficult to stomach a Merlot, but Draco continually insisted on making Harry drink it. He kept telling Draco he didn't care for it, but his reasoning was vague, and Draco continued to push it on him. He really didn't dislike it – it just reminded him of very bad memories. It wasn't Draco's fault that the only wine Oliver would drink was Merlot, and Harry couldn't look at a bottle without thinking of times that he was still trying desperately to forget. Draco would always scoff at his paltry excuses, but he really didn't want to bring up the topic of Oliver, so he kept making it up.

At least once a week they would try to get out of the castle altogether and eat out down at Hogsmeade with Emmaline, or with Remus and his new beau. Remus' mystery date turned out to be Jean-Paul, which amused Draco no end. Jean-Paul lived in one of the small flats above the shops down from The Leaf and Bean, and he opened up a small shopfront as an alternative healer.

Harry could not help but feel a little jealous that Draco could get on so well with Jean-Paul. For an ex lover, they seemed to have a fairly good rapport. Harry could only assume that it was because they never really 'broke up' when Draco realised he was in love with Harry. Jean-Paul seemed to have accepted that he and Draco weren't destined to be lovers forever, which was such a mature attitude. If only Harry could somehow see his way to forgiving Oliver. Perhaps one day he could – when Oliver found himself in love with someone who managed to rip his heart out through his throat in pain. Yes, he might be able to forgive him then.

Harry had plans to cook Atlantic Salmon in Dijon lemon sauce with wild wizarding mushroom risotto – a meal he found in a tattered old recipe book in the kitchen drawer at Grimmauld Place. It seemed to be one of the few books from the Black collection that didn't make mention of the Dark Arts. It had piqued Harry's interest in part because it contained some very special recipes that had been handed down in the Black family for generations. He almost threw the book away the first night he cooked something out of it for Draco. He was worried he might have poisoned him after Draco started to move in paroxysms of apparent pain as tears streamed from his eyes.

The Carpathian Moose Mousse with whipped Elvish winterberries was apparently a favourite dessert of Narcissa's, and one that Draco never thought he would see or taste again, for his mother said it was a secret family recipe. She had never passed it on to Draco, and he thought it was lost forever. It seemed he had found another little piece of Draco's history that was bringing them closer together. It was the little things like that that made Harry realise just how intertwined their lives and their souls were.

Lost in his musings, he looked at the time and saw he was now running late. Taking the stairs two at a time, he raced towards their rooms for a shower. He would be glad when the Quidditch trials were over and he could confess his role in training and helping Maggie. It was the least he could do to make up for what he now realised was a bunch of careless comments. He knew better than to think of all Slytherins as bad. He would continue to beat himself up over his careless comments, and he realised it had just been an automatic reaction that came from being caught up in the moment and the memories of his own sorting all those years earlier.

He could hear voices as he passed Remus' rooms. Good, Draco's still there, he thought. He could hear their conversation clearly through the crack in the door as he crept past, stopping suddenly when he heard his parent's names.

"...You've got to understand, Draco, that James and Lily barely got around to growing up. They were still so young." Harry's ears perked up. Why are they talking about them? He could not help but listen further as his insatiable curiosity took a hold.

"Yes, and then you and Sirius were broken apart in such tragic circumstances. I'm telling you, Remus, there's a curse." Draco sounded adamant, if somewhat distressed.

"What makes you so certain?" Remus asked, his own worry emanating from his voice.

"Well, it's obvious. Those journals brought Harry's parents together, and then when they discovered they were soul mates, the books somehow found their way to you and Sirius. Lily and James died young, long before their time, and in extreme tragedy. Then the cycle began again, you fell in love only to be led to think your soul mate betrayed you. Years pass and you finally discover each other again, yet just when you thought you had a second chance, Aunt Bellatrix kills Sirius. Now, you try to convince me that there isn't a curse on our journals." Draco was emphatic, and quite serious.

Harry just blinked. He didn't know what to think. A curse? His first instinct was to deny it outright. Don't be ridiculous.

"I think you're overreacting, Draco," Remus said, which made Harry breathe a sigh of relief.

"Everything's just so... perfect. How can I not dismiss the possibility? You said yourself that James and Lily were blissfully happy until a couple of weeks before they were murdered... and the same for you and Sirius."

"What does Harry think?" Remus asked calmly.

"I haven't said anything to Harry, and I don't want to worry him. He'll take it as a fact that we are destined to have some tragedy befall us and we'll end up dying in a blaze of glory. Our journals are cursed, Remus. Every couple they've brought together have had perfect bliss before tragedy struck. How am I supposed to tell him that we're doomed if he stays with me?"

"Are you saying you want to leave Harry?" Remus asked carefully.

Harry staggered away from the door, almost unsure if he truly heard what he did. Cursed? He had never made the connection, but Draco's words seemed compelling and so blatantly obvious.

It can't... it's not... don't be absurd. They're just journals. Harry tried to convince himself that Draco was worrying Remus unnecessarily over some melodrama. Yes, but you don't know that they aren't cursed... But Ginny checked... Ginny only checked your journal for the presence of any trapped souls. You didn't ask her to do any curse checking, did you? Draco wouldn't... couldn't leave...

Harry felt numb as he played through every logical and illogical thought. Things were great. He had found his soul mate – the one man who complemented him in every way – the one man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Just when his life was making sense, and he was making solid plans for the future, he was presented with this. Was anything in his life going to be easy?

Part of him was desperate for Draco to be overreacting. Oft times Draco needed a melodrama to keep himself grounded (Harry would admit it was something of an endearing quality), but Harry hoped that the teaching would be enough to keep him distracted from getting involved in any dramatics. Unfortunately, he couldn't totally discount what Draco had said.

His earlier good mood was completely soured and his thoughts were completely taken over by the idea that a tragic curse was hovering over his head. Hadn't he had enough crap for one lifetime? Why should his life be any easier now, just when he thought everything was perfect? Draco seemed a little subdued when he eventually came home, but Harry made no mention of what he overheard. He forgot all cross words and devoted himself completely to his soul mate that evening. If the inevitable disaster was pending, he didn't want to be too far from it.

Harry spent most of the night watching Draco, and he noticed the extra furrow of worry in his expression, and the fact he was chewing his lip. A few times his resolved faltered, and he nearly mentioned the curse, but he found himself devoting his complete attention to their love making. He spent the night with his lips worshipping every square inch of Draco's body, from the tips of his toes to the ends of his slender fingers, and every measure of skin in between.

There was a quiet desperation to his ministrations. Who knew if this would be their last moment together? Harry didn't want to play their usual game of Tantric denial, bringing Draco to climax on his tongue, but before Draco could try to reciprocate, he was again starting his worship, this time taking him on a slow and sensual journey to orgasm that took all night, not once stopping for more than a few moments at a time.

Harry never intended to use his silk scarves in such a manner, but this night he didn't want Draco ruining anything by trying to gain any control. Harry was giving his complete attention over to pleasuring his lover. This night was for him, and by the time the sun was slowly lightening the sky, Harry finally relented and was coming, as was Draco again, and Harry knew that even if they had another one hundred years of life, this night's lovemaking would be difficult to surpass for raw passion and sheer emotion.

Sleep eventually overcame them, and they lay entwined and completely spent, neither wanting the night to end, nor the possibility of impending disaster to loom any closer.

---

V. All that you sense...

Friday - 23 October 2003

Harry resolved to press on and forget any impending disaster, putting on a brave and happy face. He had lived with the prophecy over his head for years, why not this curse? He knew he had a lot more to lose, but he wasn't going to let it rule and ruin his future. He decided not to tell Draco that he was aware of the curse. He was just going to keep smiling and make sure that he made the most of every single moment, in the event that any time could be their last. Things could only look up from here, he used as a positive mantra to help him through the day.

As he worked his way through his T'ai Chi and meditations, he made a mental note to contact Ginny to come back and check the journals for any curses. She was busy somewhere over in Europe, hopefully searching for Ron in between her own assignments, but he needed her to do it without Draco's knowledge.

He felt quite calm and centred, putting on a smile, which became quite genuine after a rather invigorating shower. Draco seemed to be in a rather languorous mood as he surprised Harry in the shower. Harry could still feel the twinge and tingle of his muscles as Draco had bailed him up against the wall. It had been over all too soon. He'd come quickly, splattering across the tiles just as Draco made sure he was going to feel those aftershocks well after lunch as he plunged deeply into Harry before coming also.

Draco mood was jovial, as he joked that Harry would be wearing waffle pattern on his face from the bath tiles. That wretchedly cheeky mirror of Draco's (after making several lewd but blatantly obvious comments) showed him that he looked fine – apart from appearing completely flushed and debauched. As much as he wanted to head straight down to breakfast, he had to take another shower just to calm down, but he certainly wasn't complaining.

Draco needed to visit Snape before breakfast, so Harry headed down alone. The Potions master appeared to be suffering a bit of a relapse and Draco had brewed a Polyneuritis Philtre to help ease the degeneration of his inflamed nerves. Draco wasn't fooling himself that Severus would be ready to return to full time classes by the start of the new year, and he was slowly resigning himself to teaching the remainder of the school year. Dumbledore was always reticent to replace teachers mid year, and he knew Severus would refuse to give up any time before then. He knew how hard it had been for Severus to admit that he needed Draco's help, but he only did it because he trusted Draco to do the job to his own standards.

Despite Snape's assertion that Draco was the best person for the job, Draco would still complain bitterly and incessantly about the classes. Even so, he seemed to have found his stride, even if he worked harder than any other Professor in planning and grading his classes. It seemed his level of excellence was even higher than Snape's, which made Harry all the more pleased he was no longer taking Potions class.

Needing to grab some books from his room, he wandered through the door and picked up his class notes from his desk. He noticed the corner of his journal under a pile of parchments on the desk, and the thought of a curse again crossed his mind. He shook it away. His eyes fell on his I-Ching coins, and just for a lark, he tossed them, coming up with hexagram number 49 – Unmask the truth.

Oh great, he thought, but continued to consult the reference book. 'An opportunity for ideological change is rife. Outside influences will affect you, despite your reluctance. Pull back from your current direction to take stock. Remove the façade and look for repetitive cycles and patterns to reveal the truth.'

Well, that was a complete waste of time, he thought, putting the book down and heading out to breakfast. If only he had paid more attention in Divination class, he knew he was not going to be in for one of his better days.

--oo0oo--

Even Oliver's presence at breakfast failed to dampen Harry's spirits. Avoiding his ex was often difficult at meal times, but most of the time Draco or one of the other staff members would seek him out for conversation. He silently thanked all his friends for that. Undoubtedly Draco, Remus or Charlie had been talking to the other staff. It seemed even Filch and Mrs Norris were aware of the situation – the unpleasant old cat (how old was she anyway?) seemed to hiss and spit more at Oliver than any other staff member.

Unfortunately he was alone this morning, and Oliver had dodged the gauntlet. "Well, Harry. Nobody needs to guess why you're so happy this morning. Get a bit last night, eh?" Oliver came right up and sat next to him, leaning over and putting a hand on his shoulder as he grabbed a piece of toast before the rack levitated away.

He tried not to flinch from Oliver's invasive touch. "Not that it's any of your business, Oliver, but why would you even care?" he said as he Accioed the pepper grinder from under Oliver's nose. "What could possibly make you think that's the reason for my good mood?"

Oliver tried not to laugh. "C'mon, Harry. I lived with you. I know that look." He leaned in to whisper, "Hell, I think I made you wear that look for a good few days in a row, and I know exactly what makes you grin like that." Harry had the decency to look away as he chewed on his now tasteless eggs. "I never imagined it in a million years that you would end up with that blond git. Who would have thought that all that animosity back in your school days was just unresolved sexual ten..."

Harry tried to keep his voice down as he interrupted. "There's a lot you don't know about Draco, Oliver, and there's even more that you couldn't even begin to comprehend." Harry's appetite for breakfast was quickly waning, just like his happy mood. He really didn't want to be having this conversation with anyone – especially not Oliver – but he continued to chew and stabbed a little too hard at his bacon. He tried not to let Oliver get to him, but he wasn't having much luck. He would give anything for Draco to walk into the Great Hall right at that moment.

"Still," Oliver sipped casually at his tea, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort he was causing Harry, "I wouldn't be complacent if I were you. Wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea and get too comfortable or clingy."

Harry snorted in mock laughter. "Right, and you would be an expert on that topic, wouldn't you?" he finally managed to look directly at Oliver, who didn't seem the least bit perturbed by this. Rather, he seemed... amused. Was he just fishing for details of their sex life? "Despite what you might think, Oliver, Draco and I don't have an open relationship. We're an exclusive couple. It means we don't see anyone else or fuck around, and we don't plan to, not in the short or long term – but I guess that you just don't understand the concept of monogamy."

Oliver continued to smirk as he listened. "Whatever rocks your socks, Harry," he said, seemingly finishing the conversation as he salted his own eggs. Harry looked up and was relieve to see Draco had finally arrived in the Great Hall. He was talking to Maggie and a few of the other Slytherin first year girls. Harry smiled as he realised the students were looking up to Draco as an authority figure, and he seemed to be taking it in stride. The smile on Harry's face widened as Draco looked up and gave him a knowing look.

It seemed Oliver had also noticed the traded smiles. "I suppose he's not half bad. I can just imagine what those lips could do..."

Harry just raised an eyebrow at this comment, but chose not to dignify it with an answer. Draco was the last teacher to arrive at the table and the only seat was on the opposite side. It afforded Harry a rare opportunity to watch him from afar – anything to not have to listen to Oliver's drivel. He quickly threw out any thoughts about curses that played along the edge of his mind, and he just simply enjoyed the opportunity to soak in every detail as he watched his soul mate.

Draco might have loathed his apprentice robes, but Harry found a quiet sexiness in them. The unrelieved black offset that fair hair and those long, pale hands that had always been a fascination to him. Draco threw him a sultry look and he knew that he had been caught out staring.

Ever the exhibitionist, Draco seemed to make every move of his hands more sensual than usual, and Harry had to work hard not to let it affect him too much. Their early morning activities were still fresh in his mind, but he was thinking that a very quick snog in a dark corner of a hall would be needed within the hour. Perhaps something a little more hands on... I always liked that alcove behind Frederic the Fearless...

"Well, those hands don't leave much to the imagination, do they?" Oliver said, his mouth half full of food.

How can he dare to think the same thing? Annoying bastard. Harry didn't answer as he tried to chew the last of his breakfast. His anger was close to flaring, but biting back wasn't going to help. He had to quell the trickle of magic that rose with his anger.

"Yeah, those hands are certainly talented," Oliver continued. "Not a half bad shag either – I can see the attraction – you always were the tactile sort, Harry. But now I'm curious... who gets to be on top? Wait - don't tell me – you 'share the love equally'." Oliver's tone was completely dripping with what could only be described as jealousy, and Harry dropped his fork with a loud clatter. Harry couldn't contain his magic any longer, and the teacups nearby shattered or cracked.

Harry breathed deeply to calm down, but he just glared at Oliver. He was unable to even articulate an answer that was speakable in front of the students. Oliver didn't seem intimidated or fearful of Harry's little outburst, but as Harry regained control of his magic, something Oliver said played at the back of his mind, and he could see the smirk on Oliver's face widen as he turned back to look at Draco.

Draco seemed oblivious to what Oliver was doing, as he appeared to be deep in conversation with Severus, sharing a heart-warming laugh with the Potions master.

"Never matter," Oliver relented. Harry was too furious to notice Oliver leaning over to whisper in his ear. "Still, he's got a great mouth, hasn't he? The way that tongue wraps around you, and the way that mole quivers as he bites his lower lip during sex... He's got the prettiest face – those lashes are too beautiful and they hide that usual screwed up look most guys get during sex... No – I don't blame you at all, Harry. Who could resist that? Yep, he certainly makes you feel more of a man, doesn't he?"

Harry stood sharply, knocking over his chair. He stared at Oliver in disbelief. Oliver backed away now that he had achieved his goal of riling up Harry. The self-satisfying smirk told Harry it had been his intention all along, and he walked away from the table. He just stood, dumbfounded, not noticing the pair of concerned pale blue eyes that watched the scene before following Oliver Wood's path out the door.

All thoughts of his glorious morning were gone and he fought the bile rising in his throat. His breakfast threatened to come back up as he rushed out of the hall and down to the courtyard. Oliver is so infuriating. I can't believe what he just said. I refuse to acknowledge that he claims to have slept with Draco... Don't be ridiculous, Harry, he was just trying to get a reaction out of you... But how did he know about that look on Draco's face when he comes? Surely not... He shook a ghastly image from his head. Draco had never slept with Oliver. He knew that because Draco told him so. Draco would never...

Harry shook his head violently. It was plain ridiculous, and he wasn't going to entertain the notion at all. Oliver had succeeded in ruining his good mood, and he had to calm down. He took a deep breath in... then out... repeat... Nothing. Meditation was useless when he was so worked up. The longer it took to become centred, the more frustrated he became. He could only calm down once he continued to tell himself that Oliver had proven himself to be a consummate liar - Harry had no reason to believe anything he said.

Why then, could he not get the idea that Draco had slept with Oliver out of his mind?

Logic was telling him that he had to talk to Draco and ask him, even though he knew it to be a lie. Draco would hound him out for even considering it for a moment, and he needed that reassurance. He raced back towards the Great Hall to see Draco, but a distant bell tolled to warn that classes were due to start. A group of pedantic Ravenclaws stopped him in his tracks long before he reached the hall. Any other time Harry would have been happy to have his brain picked about the finer points of casting non-verbal spells, but right then he wasn't listening to any of their questions.

As it were, these students were in his first class, and they managed to drag him along to the classroom instead of the direction he needed to go. He had no time now – Remus was there and class was starting. Had he thought about it, he would have said that chance was conspiring against him, preventing him from seeking out Draco and an answer.

Harry constantly glanced at the clock, but it seemed to tease him, barely moving as the morning seemed endless. He would need to hurry if he were to make it to Draco's classroom during the lunch hour and have enough time to talk to him. When Draco agreed to take over the younger Potions classes, it was quickly ascertained that the Dungeon classroom would not be suitable with Draco's limited knee motility. A new Potions lab was set up in a disused classroom in the same corridor as the infirmary. It must have once housed Potions classes, for it was set up in a laboratory style, which seemed quite fortuitous.

Unfortunately for Harry, it was the one day of the week when Draco had solid back to back classes of lower year students. Even with magic, it took a very long time in clean up and preparation, and in his usual manner, he wanted to make sure that everything was just right for each class. Draco wanted to actually lead by example – to show that a tidy lab was not just an affectation, but a necessity. This left him with no time to eat lunch on these days, but Harry ensured that Dobby or Gaggy took him something hearty to eat.

Harry knew better than to just wander down there for idle chat, but this was important, and he knew Draco would understand. As fate would have it, he never made it to the lab as he rounded on a group of third years Gryffindors having a not so friendly discussion. He was too late to stop Raji Malik's Hurling Hex from hitting its intended target in Hattie Digglesworth, who began vomiting profusely within seconds.

Gryffindor found themselves fifty points poorer and young Mr Malik found he would be getting up close and personal with the dusty items in the Trophy room for the next few evenings whilst Harry found himself accompanying Miss Digglesworth to the infirmary. He only left once Pomfrey declared that Hattie would suffer no permanent side effects. He looked at his watch and found the he might just have enough time to run down the hall to talk to Draco. He would get an answer from him before the start of afternoon classes.

As he turned the corner, he noticed movement from the alcove behind the statue of Brunhilda the Bold. Halfway along the hall he could see familiar faces, but the sudden ringing of the school bells drowned out any voices. He stopped – surprised to see Draco there. He was about to call out to him, but he faltered when he saw who he was with, blinking several times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

Why on earth was Draco half hiding in an alcove with Oliver? Why would he be smiling up at Oliver, who brushed a thumb longingly across Draco's cheek? He was dumbfounded and he stood there for what seemed an eternity as he watched his soul mate and his ex lover sharing what appeared to be a very intimate moment.

Harry tore his eyes away as his heart hammered in his chest. His only instinct was to run. He didn't stop – not even when he ploughed into a horde of students heading to the Potions classroom. It wasn't... that isn't... I didn't just see... An awful feeling rose in the pit of his stomach, and he felt sick for the second time that day. This time, he did throw up.

But why would Draco... I don't... It was then that he remembered the curse. The damn cursed journals. He couldn't imagine why, but the feeling that something awful struck him at that moment. Surely Draco wouldn't just... but... is he trying to prevent something from happening to us? By fucking running around behind my back and cheating? That morning's I Ching reading came to the front of his mind. Uncover the truth – I... it can't be.

"Harry!" Remus called out, but Harry didn't hear. "Harry, are you all right?" Remus caught up with him, putting a hand on his back. "Oh... you've been sick."

"I... Remus?" Harry's glazed look finally focussed on Remus.

"You look like shit," he exclaimed as he quickly cleaned up the mess Harry just made. "Came on rather suddenly, did it? You should pop up to see Poppy. You might have eaten something a bit off at lunch. Don't worry about rushing back – even if Poppy fixes you right up. I think I'm pretty sure I can handle the first and second years on my own."

Harry didn't answer, just nodded his head as he blindly walked away. He didn't know where he was going – but it wasn't anywhere near Poppy – not unless she had a cure for seeing hallucinations. He felt numb for the longest time as he wandered the halls back towards his rooms. Why the hell would he cheat with Oliver? Was it just the fact that there isn't any other competition around? Why the fuck am I trying to justify this? The only logical conclusion that came to mind was that Draco was somehow doing it to help come to terms with the journal's curse. Maybe he's tricking the journals into thinking he's not with me, and the curse won't trigger... No, that's rubbish, Harry, and you know it. He's sneaking around behind your back with fucking Oliver. Oh, Merlin... he is fucking Oliver... But he couldn't lie to me... He was a damn spy during the war – he's a skilled liar...

Harry had no answer as his thoughts ran every ghastly scenario, but no logical answers came to him and he became desperate to find one. Had he been full of indignant anger, he might have stormed down to the Potions classroom and demanded an answer, but he was just plain... numb.

He never realised the vision replayed and festered in his thoughts all afternoon as he sat in his chair by the fire – plucking absently at a crack in the leather on the armrest. The only coherent thought that passed through his mind was that this could not be a coincidence – Oliver didn't just show up, then Draco didn't just start to become busy. Was he really working during those lunch hours, or had it always been a cover for a secret assignation with Oliver?

It was well past supper and Draco still wasn't home, but by then Harry had run the full gamut of emotions, and was thoroughly convinced that Draco was cheating behind his back with Oliver. He couldn't believe it, and it made no sense, but then nothing in Harry's life ever did. However, that awful feeling in his gut never went away. It was so late, Harry had gone to bed, not even concerned for Draco's whereabouts. He had a pretty good idea, and he really didn't want to know.

But as sleep claimed him, a small part of his mind wanted to believe that Draco was busy down in the classroom, marking papers and preparing bases for tomorrow's classes - alone. He had thoughts of confronting Draco with it all, but was quickly to sleep.

He roused as Draco slid into their bed. Part of his foggy brain tried to wake as he remembered his hurt and pain and fury.

"Sweet Merlin," Draco whispered in his ear. "I am so tired. You would not believe what those fourth year Slytherins were up to. They thought they could get away with brewing Amortentia right under my nose. Not only had they stolen ingredients from my stores, but they were using class time to brew it. I knew they were doing it, but Severus wanted me to make sure I caught them in the act. There was a rumour down in the Slytherin dorms that someone was making a profit selling the stuff to unsuspecting students from the other houses... It seems young Rufus Swickers was the ringleader. If only he could put his talent and effort into brewing what he's supposed to." Draco sighed, not once noticing Harry's silence. "Still, he might get the message after Dumbledore found out and suggested that he spend every night until Christmas scrubbing out cauldrons and cleaning both potions classrooms without magic. I know it means that I'll have to supervise so many bloody detentions, but at least it gave me an excuse to leave all my papers at my desk... leaving nothing for me to bring home... Harry?"

Draco finally noticed Harry was sleeping, and he gave Harry a long kiss on the mouth. "Missed you so much today. Remus told me you weren't well. I should let you sleep."

Just as Draco curled up against him (it felt so good and so right and so perfect – why was he angry?) a light bulb went off in his sleep addled brain. "'Choo were with Dumbledore and Snape?" he asked hopefully.

"Mmm, for most of the afternoon. I tried to floo you, but you had blocked the fire. I figured you were sleeping off whatever was wrong and didn't want to be disturbed."

"Yeah," Harry suddenly felt stupid as he realised that if Draco had been with Dumbledore, he wasn't sneaking around with Oliver. How glad was he that he never confronted Draco with his accusation? Even so, a large part of him wanted to ask what the hell had been going on with Oliver at lunch time, but he was quite befuddled with sleep.

"You feeling any better?" Draco asked, the concern in his voice clearly evident as he ran a concerned hand across Harry's forehead and face. "You do feel kinda warm. Was it only a bug? I can get you a Pepper Up Potion... but that might be best in the morning."

"Yeah, feeling much better," Harry rolled onto his back, his earlier concerns immediately gone at the realisation he'd been foolishly wallowing in a gigantic flight of fancy. How stupid did he feel? He forgot all doubts and all worries about curses and ex lovers as he realised Draco's penchant for melodrama was starting to rub off on him.

He heard Draco's soft snoring on the pillow beside him, as that warm and comforting glow of love suffused him as he hugged Draco tightly. Sleep returned quickly, but even so, that awful gut feeling didn't leave completely, as there were questions still left unanswered.

By the following morning he was feeling much better. He remembered his concern from the day before, but seeing Draco lying next to him, it seemed so foolish. Why should he trust anything Oliver ever said? He pondered asking Draco about what he saw in the hallway near the potions classroom, but he thought better of it. Didn't want Draco to see how foolish he really was.

Even so, that tiny niggle of doubt refused to go away. He could not discount the idea that Draco was hiding something from him. He couldn't quite put his finger on why he felt that way – Draco seemed possibly a little more attentive than usual – or was Harry just imagining it? Was he just trying to make the most of every moment, a bit like he was, because of this great unspoken curse that loomed over them?

Harry couldn't answer his own questions, but he could feel the quiet sense of desperation in the air and knew it was foolish to contemplate anything bad in Draco's intentions. He just had to make the most of every moment – every day – at least until he was certain that Draco was completely wrong about them being doomed if they stay together.

--oo0oo--

By the week of Samhain, Harry had still kept his silence on the matter. It turned out to be a very wise decision, as Draco seemed more irritable than usual. Harry was grateful he said nothing, for Draco was liable to turn around and bite his head off for thinking such stupid thoughts. Some worry was eating away at Draco, and more than once Harry's offers of assistance were met with a snappish growl. Draco would immediately apologise, blaming his mood on the incessant teaching workload and their lack of quality time together. They had not been in Hogsmeade for a couple of weeks, and Draco was often too tired or too wired to work his way through a complete T'ai Chi session. Every time Harry tried to explain that he should be doing more, not less meditation to calm himself down, his words were met with a piercing glare.

They were looking forward to a quiet weekend completely away from everyone. The Sabbat was on the Friday night, and after the Halloween feast, they had made grand plans to go down to Hogsmeade to celebrate with Emmaline, Jean-Paul and Remus, amongst others. Harry was planning a few other surprises for Draco – including a nice romantic dinner and a night of complete seduction. If he had his way, Draco wouldn't go anywhere near a cauldron for the entire weekend.

The last thing he needed now was for something to happen to ruin his plans. Naturally, that's when he got the call about Ron.

--oo0oo--

Harry had waited at the door of Draco's lab as he watched him fend off a swarm of Billywigs. He was obviously having a dreadful time catching the bugs as he tried to pull off the stingers. Draco had all but stormed out of their rooms when Hermione Flooed. Draco looked tired, and Harry knew he was overworking himself. He thought it was time he went and had a talk to Snape. If he couldn't talk some sense into Draco, then perhaps the greasy git could. Harry recalled a mention of fresh stingers being needed for something, but he didn't realise Draco needed to pull them off himself - without the use of magic. He would have offered a hand, but Draco had that determined scowl on his face.

"Damn Merlin," he swore as he was nearly stung. "You know, Harry, you could help instead of just standing there and distracting me," he said, barely glancing in his direction.

"Sorry," Harry said as he came over. Within minutes, Harry had managed to round up the errant Billywigs and collect the stingers. Draco seemed a little put out by this, but Harry could see the weariness in his eyes. Draco took the bowl but nearly dropped it as a Billywig flew into his face, rubbing its bottom as it scowled and squealed and pounded its tiny fists in the air in front of Draco's face. Draco raised his wand threateningly and it quickly scurried into the tank with the other squealing bugs. He closed the lid and flicked his wand, immediately silencing the complaining creatures.

"Well?" Draco asked in a huff as he quickly snatched up the bowl of stingers and turned to the table, seemingly angry that Harry interrupted him. Harry sighed – Draco might be in a snit, and he knew the blond's mood was only going to get worse. He had been avoiding the topic of Ron for weeks, but he couldn't any longer.

"Ow," Draco shook his hand and brought his thumb up to his mouth. The bowl of stingers clattered hard on the bench. Draco turned quickly and had to sit down.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked in concern. "Your knee..." He assumed that Draco's knee had buckled under him. That was another thing worrying Harry. With Draco devoting so much time to his work, he was spending inordinately long hours standing. Harry noticed the new stiffness, but Draco would just glare whenever he suspected Harry was channelling his magic into the degenerative joint.

"... is fine. I'm just a little giddy. I just pricked myself on one of those blasted stingers." He didn't sound fine as he continued to curse colourfully under his breath. Harry offered a helping hand, and it was gladly taken as Draco took a while to get his equilibrium back. Unfortunately he was even snappier than ever after that. "So, were you going to give me an update on the Weasel?" he snarked.

Harry shook his head. He knew this would happen. Every time he spent time talking to Hermione in the Floo, Draco would leave the room in a petulant sulk, and they would end up arguing afterwards. Usually they could make it up later, but that seemed to be happening less and less often.

"You could show some compassion towards her situation, you know," Harry replied, instantly regretting his words.

Draco looked directly at Harry, and stood, his thumb throbbing angrily as he wobbled in giddiness. "Compassion?" he whispered. "You want me to show compassion for the fact that Weasel is still missing? I haven't gone soft in the head, Harry."

Harry sighed as he took of his glasses and pushed the palm of his hand into his tired eyes. "You know what I mean," he replied. "Don't put words in my mouth." Harry had purposely avoided any discussion about Ron for this very reason. Draco took great pleasure at cutting Ron down at every opportunity, even after all these weeks. Harry wasn't sure about his feelings for Ron, but the more time that passed after his disappearance, the more concerned he became, and the more he felt he needed to help in some way.

Hermione was sure he wasn't dead - his hand on the Weasley family clock only said he was 'lost'. His disappearance had still managed to stay out of the papers, avoiding any scandal for Arthur. Harry knew that a few Aurors were supposedly looking for Ron, but in his own experience, there would be little leg work being done to search for Ron. He doubted Arthur Weasley was the sort to bribe officials to make them work harder. Unfortunately, the Auror division was still corrupt to a point. He could only shake his head in disgust. The situation made him want to head into Gordon Bridgewater's office and slap him hard around the head for being a complete idiot.

Had anyone kicked up a fuss, then the whole issue would have to go public, so the Weasleys did their own investigating, with all of Ron's family taking turns to search for clues and follow up the few leads that came the way of the Aurors. Unfortunately, these were coming less frequently, increasing everyone's desperation. Only the lingering hope from the Weasley clock kept their flagging hopes alive.

They were taking it one step at a time. None of them wanted to think about what would definitely happen once he was found. Draco's statement about the bank records had Ron pegged as Neo Death Eater sympathiser, and this alone would ensure the Aurors would question him thoroughly. Harry couldn't begin to imagine what the Goblins at Gringotts would do to him as well.

"You obviously have something you want to tell me." Draco murmured. "Have they found the Weasel? Is he in Azkaban?" Harry didn't fail to notice the bitterness in Draco's voice.

Harry just shook his head. "They think they've found him – or at least a lead. Hermione's been following a fairly reliable lead. They want someone to go and get him before the Aurors can get him. They asked me if I'd like to join in the search... Draco was in an argumentative mood, and Harry was tired of beating around the bush. "I said yes."

"Not that I care what happens to that traitorous bastard, Harry, but why you? You're not an Auror any more. Besides, Pomfrey said you should be taking it easy still."

"No, I'm not, but I just... I need to do this, Draco. Something is compelling me to go. I can't ignore my instincts like that. They've been rather helpful before. Besides, you know my magic is back to normal now – there's no reason I can't join in the search now."

Draco snorted, but became suddenly very silent as he concentrated even more on sorting the stingers on the table. Silence from Draco was sometimes worse than argument, or cutting barbs.

Harry scratched behind his ear – a habit that showed his unease, as he took a deep breath. "I'm going with Fred to find him. They seem to think he's hiding somewhere in Cardiff - Wales."

"I do know where Cardiff is, Harry." Draco looked up and finally looked Harry in the eye. "Surely he's got enough brothers to go after his sorry arse. I know Charlie has wasted an inordinate amount of time on this wild goose chase." Harry tried not to become irritated, but Draco seemed frustrated more than angry. "Ron Weasley lost all rights to your friendship the minute he turned his rampant homophobia on you. Come to think of it, Charlie and George shouldn't be out there looking for him either. You owe him no loyalty, Harry."

On some level, he could see Draco's point, but he knew he just had to look. Anything was better than sitting around and just waiting for news. Besides, he didn't honestly believe Ron would willingly do what he had done. There had to be a logical answer, and he was going to find it.

"Listen to you," Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing from Draco. "I didn't think you could still be so arrogant. I need to know what's happened to him, Draco. I can't believe you can't see how I feel..."

"Falling in love with you doesn't mean I have to instantly like your friends. You forget that my dislike of the Weasleys goes back even further..."

"...yes but that was Lucius' influence..."

"I'll pretend you didn't mention his name. Have you forgotten that Weasley's managed to destroy a large portion of my inheritance, and the family Manor in the process..."

"...You never liked the Manor..."

"...Doesn't mean I wanted it to burn to the ground." Draco's nostrils were flaring in anger. "I'm surprised you're still defending him after all those hurtful things he said to you. You punched him, not me."

Harry knew this bickering was pointless, and they would continue to argue in circles until one of them said something that they would regret.

"For what it's worth, I've been thinking it over, and I don't think he did it willingly, Draco. I honestly don't know if he's innocent, but even you admitted that Parkinson might have done something to him..." Harry replied.

"There was never any proof, Harry. Besides, even if he did, there is no way he could have made Weasley fake his behaviour, unless he was under the Imperius Curse. If he were under the influence of a coercive potion, it would have only enhanced his existing feelings and emotions, particularly if they have been repressed. I'm willing to bet Weasley was always homophobic – he just never had enough backbone to say anything to your face. His attitude towards me certainly never changed. I can't understand how you could just forget how much he hurt you, Harry. I know it's upset you, and I know you want to find him. I just don't want to have to pick you up after he turns his back and knocks you down again. How many times do you need to see that he's not worth it, Harry?"

Harry could see a point somewhere in Draco's words, but he wasn't listening. "It's not right, whatever it is. There's something more – something we don't know. If it makes you feel better, I'm doing it for Hermione, not for myself. She needs some sort of answer – how can she live not knowing if her husband is alive or dead?"

"He would have taken great pleasure in taking me down, Harry. I doubt he could have refused the Neo Death Eaters when they offered my downfall as bait during their recruitment speech..."

"That was uncalled for, Draco. You're being so childish. Do you even have any idea how Hermione is feeling about this? What about Molly? How would your mother have felt if it were you?"

"That's a low blow, Harry." Harry nodded, admitting he should never have said that, but Draco's stubbornness was making him bite back.

"Look," Harry sighed, rubbing again at the bridge of his nose. "I'm going with Fred this weekend. I don't need your permission, but I thought I could at least do you the courtesy."

"Don't know why you had to bother me with all this if your mind was already made up," Draco muttered as he flicked his wand at a shelf. A box of small bottles flew into his hand and he turned back to his Billywig stings. "So I guess this cancels our romantic weekend away?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He almost completely forgot about it. "You could come with me... or we can reschedule," Harry knew it was lame, but it was an olive branch – of a sort. He suspected he already knew the answer, but a small ray of hope lived on, and they could then spend the weekend together. They had the rest of their lives for romantic weekends, didn't they?

Draco laughed softly. "Do you really expect me to come along and look for the Weasel?"

Harry shook his head. He had nothing to say to that, and Draco took a deep breath. "Just go and do what you have to do. Just don't expect any sympathy from me if you find the Weasel's rotting corpse." With that final pronouncement, Draco turned his back to Harry as he carefully picked up the stingers and began to bottle them. He knew Draco was capable of compassion – why was it so hard in this instance?

Harry faltered, wanting to say more, but he knew it was time to leave it. He would have to be content that Draco had not stopped him from going. He didn't feel any better for the argument, but he knew there was so much left unsaid. It would have to remain that way tonight. He doubted he would get any reasonable answers out of Draco, and he knew he was more emotional than usual. It didn't help that it ruined their long awaited romantic weekend.

Harry's shoulders were slumped as he left without another word and closed the door, lest he raise Draco's ire for upsetting a potion. He never noticed the worried expression on Draco's face, as they followed him out the door.

--oo0oo--

Harry would have liked a night of sound sleep before heading out, but sleep was a long time in coming. It had as much to do with his concerns for Ron as it did with the fact that Draco never came to bed. Harry found that he was now so used to sleeping next to him, that he couldn't sleep when he was alone. How quickly he came to rely on Draco's warmth in his arms, or his head on his chest as they slept. Draco very quickly got into the habit of using Harry as a pillow – something Harry always found endearing. He found himself searching out for a warm, lithe body for most of the night, and he woke fully before dawn to discover the bedclothes in a ball at the foot of the bed, and the candle on Draco's bedside table almost burned out.

All his concerns and questions and worries could usually be quelled as he slept beside his soul mate, but he found his night punctuated with all manner of strange dreams and worry. In those dark hours, Harry could forget the looming threat of an unspecified curse. He could forget Oliver's words, and that tiny sense of doubt that Draco could ever cheat on him. With Draco lying across his chest, he could forget they had spoken harsh words during the day. But this night there had been no Draco, and he did little else but focus on such gruesome thoughts.

As the light began to creep through the window, he quietly got up. He dressed quietly and tiptoed out of the room, but shook his head as he realised Draco wasn't there. With a quick summons through the Floo, he got Dobby started on packing a bag whilst he continued to search for Draco. Harry eventually found him where he left him – in the Potions classroom. He'd obviously not had a good night with the Billywig stingers, for his thumbs resembled pincushions and the effects of the sting were obvious as he seemed to be levitating a couple of inches above his seat.

Harry was in half a mind to wake Draco and let him know he was heading off, but he knew they would only argue again. He chose a compromise. Part of the work already done, he quietly cast a Mobilicorpus to drag Draco out of his chair and back up into their bed. The moment he landed on the bed, he quickly snuggled down into the pillows, picking up one and throwing an arm over it. A cheap substitute for Harry, but Harry saw the look of contentment on Draco's face.

He hesitated about waking Draco. He knew the blond would be angry for waking up alone, but Harry couldn't wait any longer. Fred had arranged a Portkey from Stoatshead Hill at half five, so he had to get to Ottery St Catchpole quickly.

He dropped a kiss on Draco's brow, and he saw lashes flutter open briefly before he snuggled further into the pillow. Harry had already picked up a scoop of Floo powder when a sleepy voice spoke from the bed.

"When will you be back?" Draco mumbled sleepily. Harry turned, and for a moment was very tempted to stay. But something forced him to remember that Ron might only have once chance at help. Draco was going to be there when he got back. He'd find Ron and then he and Draco could work past this feud. When he got back.

"With any luck, tonight, but I'll probably miss the feast and we'd be too late to celebrate Samhain down at Hogsmeade. But I'll definitely be back by Sunday afternoon to prepare for Monday's classes. Dumbledore's letting me have today off, but I don't want to take too much time off this early. He's always been so understanding, and I don't want to take advantage of that. I've got to go... You go back to sleep."

He thought he heard a mumbled "Love you," as he tumbled through the Floo, but he couldn't be sure.

--oo0oo--

The entire trip turned out to be a complete waste of time, which left Harry feeling gutted and a little guilty. There was no sign of Ron, or any wizards remotely resembling him anywhere in Cardiff, let alone Wales. The trail went completely cold fairly quickly after they realised that the lanky redhead Hermione had heard about was just a Muggle junkie who had made the mistake of wearing fake orange hair dye.

Fred was more than upset that it was a fruitless trip, but he was becoming more desperate, more determined. He never thought it possible, but Harry had noticed all the Weasleys had banded together even more closely since Ron's disappearance. They refused to believe the worst about Ron – they all assumed he was coerced in some way, and they were determined to find out where he was. The idea that he was abandoned and obliviated was not a pleasant outcome, but it was something they hoped for. Harry was inclined to agree with their assessment, and for the sake of everyone involved, he hoped that when they found Ron (for he didn't doubt they would), that would be the case.

Harry knew Ron, and he knew he would never willingly join with Neo Death Eaters. He always loathed everything to do with the Malfoys, so why would he become the one thing he worked so hard to fight? Still, he didn't want to be around for Draco's reaction. Harry knew he grew up with a great many misconceptions about Draco, and his lover had managed to surprise him with so many things – his understanding of Muggle culture, for one. Why couldn't he just try to apply that to Ron? It would make things so much easier.

Their trip cut short by the false lead, Harry was looking forward to a warm shower and hopefully some time to make up with Draco. It was only Saturday afternoon, and he looked forward to salvaging some of the weekend they had planned. He regretted missing the Samhain celebrations, but to be honest, it was the one time of year Harry rarely felt like celebrating.

He was grateful that Fred would be the one to tell Hermione that their trip was a waste of time. Fred's new wife, Lavender, was staying with Hermione. Despite Hermione's dislike of Lavender during their school years, they seem to have grown closer since they became sisters-in-law. Her new-born daughter was proving to be a blessed distraction for Hermione during this stressful time.

It was a wonderfully sunny afternoon, a little warm for October, and Harry wasn't going to miss an opportunity for some fresh air as he decided to walk back to the school from the Three Broomsticks. Seeing Hermione and Lavender getting along made him ponder the changing face of friendship. They had never been the best of friends, but now seemed quite inseparable. Harry knew some people had friends and acquaintances that came in and out of each other's lives, but Harry never imagined that would happen with him, Hermione and Ron.

They had been so worried when they got together – they worried Harry would feel like a third wheel. They were clever to announce their engagement when he was in (an apparently) solid relationship with Oliver. How times had changed. He could not believe that only a year earlier, he thought he was happy with Oliver, and content to keep working in his dead end Auror's job.

Had anyone told him were he would be now, he probably would have laughed at them, and the complete absurdity of their assertions. But then again, if anyone had told him a year ago that Ron had been homophobic and had aided and abetted known Neo Death Eaters, he would have had them admitted to St Mungo's. He knew he would not be as close to Ron and Hermione after they married, but he never thought he would be questioning his loyalty to his oldest friend. Could Draco be right? Was he just still wanting to be loyal out of habit?

His slow walk back to the school was partly to help clear his mind, and partly to steel himself to talk with Draco, who would probably be quite smug about the fact they didn't find Ron. He needed this time to centre himself and make sure they didn't start arguing again. He hated all the arguing and he wanted to finish it, one way or another.

This trend of sniping and tenseness was not what Harry wanted, and he couldn't think of how their relationship had degenerated over the past few weeks. The disagreements were minor, yet they never seemed to have any apparent closure. They just needed to get away from it all, and he even toyed with the idea of leaving Hogwarts all together. He refused to give voice to the thought that the further away Oliver was, the better their lives would be - which could only be a good thing.

He felt guilty that he'd barely said goodbye to Draco (a kiss on the head and a sleepy question hardly counted), and he regretted not patching up their argument. It didn't help that Oliver's fanciful lies periodically came back to ring in Harry's ears. To make matters worse, they were often accompanied by rotating visions of Ollie in bed with those two men and Ollie standing in a dark alcove with Draco. As he reached the school gates, his thoughts turned to these conflicts, Draco's curse theory, and – strangely enough – how this could involve Maggie Gadbury.

Before he'd truly had the time to consider where that last question came from, he had reached the big craggy rocks by the bridge. Racing quietly along the bridge, he was now eager to get back and see Draco. He would sort this out once and for all. As he reached the entrance to the courtyard, he was distracted by the familiar sight of Draco's hair. He was in the courtyard talking to Charlie. He was just about to wave to get their attention when he held back. No, not again. He was struck dumb as he noticed what suspiciously looked like flirting. He stopped short as Draco appeared to be blatantly coming on to Charlie.

Harry blinked, then blinked again. No, he wasn't imagining this, and it wasn't a figment of his imagination as he watched Draco cup Charlie's face warmly. No no no no, this can't be happening. He couldn't... he wouldn't do that. Why would he do that? He tried to ignore that doubting voice pointing out that this wasn't the first instance worth questioning, and his gloomy I Ching reading came back to the fore. He tried to ignore the churning feeling deep in his gut. He even tried to ignore the tears that burned in the corners of his eyes as a part of him became convinced that there was now a distinct pattern of behaviour that he couldn't ignore. Was this yet another love gone completely wrong?

Harry didn't notice the swirl of angry magic forming around him as he quickly stalked back across the bridge. He was very lucky that most of the students were down at the Quidditch pitch for the Gryffindor tryouts, for he couldn't guarantee the student's safety in his current mood. He wasn't even thinking rationally enough to consider calming down, but he knew he needed answers – now.

He passed nobody in the halls as he made his way to their rooms, and he ignored all the paintings who vied for his attention. He was beyond caring when the painting beside their door admonished him for using the wrong entrance, but he just needed to close the door and breathe. The solitude of the walls around him felt safe, secure as he continued to breathe deeply.

A delicious smell emanating from the kitchen piqued his curiosity. Following his nose, he wandered over to the kitchen where there was often a cauldron of some potion or other simmering over a low heat. He was surprised to find a slow boiling pot on the stove. It appeared to be some sort of tomato based pasta sauce filled with lashings of fresh vegetables. There was evidence of a great deal of hard work having gone into that sauce and it looked and smelled as if it had been simmering for hours. Glancing around further, Harry found ingredients that suggested pasta primavera with a shallow dish of veal cutlets slowly marinating as they regularly turned themselves over in the marinade. A bottle of some obviously expensive wine was sitting on the table under a very slight cooling charm, along with glasses and a corkscrew. He picked it up. It was a bottle of Merlot – Harry's least favourite wine. His knuckles whitened around the neck of the bottle as he looked around the room.

Hmmm, fancy dinner... candles out... and I bet... He pointed his wand at the wireless and verified a music charm was set, just waiting for a trigger. Yes, romantic music... red wine that he knows I don't drink... he's planning to seduce someone in here... in OUR quarters! Harry was somewhat amazed at the speed with which he went from feeling confused to dejected to enraged.

How dare he! How could I be so bloody foolish? Here I've been giving him the benefit of the doubt, and he's obviously been fooling around behind my back. Merlin knows how long he's been sleeping with Oliver. All that sympathy he gave me when he found out who 'Ollie' was. No wonder he's been so upset ever since Oliver showed up here. Cursed journals my arse. He was probably trying to think of some excuse or back story in case I ever found out. He knew it would be harder to keep up their affair right under my nose, and now for whatever reason, he's decided to move on and he's going to bring Charlie here to seduce him. No matter that he's Snape's lover and he claims to have great respect for him. He really has been playing me for a fool. That bloody I Ching reading was right. I've been a blind fool. No matter that this is our home and he claims to love me as a soul mate. Just because I go away to look for Ron, he gets all petulant and sulky. That spoilt rotten little bastard just has to have everything or he's not happy. Well, he can't have it all, and if he's going to act this way, he can't have me!

I promised myself I was never going to be fooled again. At least I can do this and get out now – before it's too late.

Harry flicked his wand so hard at the door to his room that it flung open with force, as he wordlessly summoned a pile of essentials to fill his overnight bag. I wish I could just forget about this. He was tired of the constant replay of Draco and Oliver in his head. He was tired of Oliver's innuendo filling his thoughts. He didn't want to see and image of a flirtatious Draco smiling up at Charlie and terrorising his memories.

He stopped for just a moment as he remembered something. He ignored the tantalising smell of the pasta sauce (it was making him ill to the stomach), and he stopped in front of a tray of Draco's cleaned and sorted potions vials and bottles. He suppressed the urge to throw the whole tray against the stone wall in fury as he picked up a pure crystal bottle with a cork. If I could just get rid of those memories... Harry thought back and remembered pulling memories out of similar bottles to view in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He grasped the bottle firmly, knowing now exactly what he needed to do.

It wasn't hard to concentrate on the memories – they were there at the forefront of his mind as he pulled the wispy silver strands of memory, forcefully stuffing them into the bottles (he quickly realised he needed more than one). Complete with stoppers, they lay on the table once he was finished. It took a couple of minutes to get back his equilibrium as he had yanked the memories out more forcefully than was necessary.

As he came back to his senses, he realised he could still vividly remember everything. Why? Didn't taking the memory out make him forget? He grew frustrated, realising he never actually knew if the memory was forgotten or not. He had just assumed that the memory would be forgotten.

He cursed himself for his own stupidity as he remembered. Of course you didn't forget the memory once bottled, you fool. You only got to look at it from a different perspective. How else could he have pulled those true memories out of those convicted Death Eaters during the trials after the war? They had produced dozens of tampered memories to prove their innocence, but Dumbledore had shown him how to search for the truth, and he had been successful.

He was so frustrated now from the fruitless exercise, he wanted to scream. He had wasted enough time here and he just needed to go. In his disgust, he banished the newly filled bottles to a back shelf in the kitchen. The whole point had been to forget about the memories, but perhaps Draco might stumble across them and realise just how much hurt he had caused Harry.

He made ready to leave, not wanting to stay a moment longer. He turned so quickly that he didn't even hear the loathed bottle of wine crashing to the floor. He Accioed his bag into one hand as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder with the other.

He hesitated for a split second – worrying about his classes and the students and Maggie's Quidditch training, but for the first time in his life, he was feeling sick and tired of being the helpful one. He felt utterly selfish, but he really could not see to care beyond the bitterness rolling around in his mind. Dumbledore had practically given him carte blanche to take off as much time as he needed to find Ron, and for once he was not going to dismiss such an opportunity.

He just had to get away and sort through this alone as the epiphany that had been on the edge of his thoughts finally coalesced. There's only one person I can rely on in this world, and that's me. I have to get away and sort myself out. I don't care where. I'll make myself Unplottable and just go... Somewhere nobody would think to look... Somewhere I can salvage what's left of my pride and learn to trust again – the Wizarding world owes me that much, at least.

With his magic escaping erratically in his rage, he didn't find it difficult to cast the spells to make himself Unplottable. Hedwig gave a mild hoot of distress after it was over, but he didn't even have a care for her right at that moment.

He knew now the exact place to go, and was in the Floo to the Three Broomsticks, then on to his final destination without a second thought.

---

VI. All that you sense...

Harry rolled over in his sleep, hoping to snuggle up against Draco. This was one thing he thoroughly enjoyed – the warmth of Draco's back against his chest as he slept. His sleep was so much more restful now that he had found his soul mate. The constant tossing and turning and waking up with the sheets bundled at the foot of the bed was, thankfully, a thing of the past. Something felt out of place, and he wondered if he was still dreaming.

But as he turned, his arm fell on the empty space beside him. He half opened one eye and frowned as his mind tried to work out where Draco could be. The sheets were cold, which meant he had been gone for a while. He pouted unconsciously; disappointed that Draco was probably off stirring some potion. He hoped he would come back to bed soon, as he was feeling somewhat bereft – not to mention dreadfully horny.

He sensed from the angle of the sun that it was perhaps later than he first realised. He didn't care. It was Sunday, and he would sleep in. His T'ai Chi could wait until a more civilised hour. Draco was such a bad influence – making him loll around in bed for hours on end, although usually he wasn't alone, and rarely was he left to just sleep.

He arched his back in a deep stretch that helped him to slowly wake up. The sheet slipped down to reveal his chest and the feel of the soft fabric rubbing against his arousal made him groan in a semi whimper. Draco's sheets were always so soft and they glided smoothly against his skin as he rolled completely over onto his back. He extended the stretch and let it run all the way to his toes. A familiar whirring and clicking sound interrupted his stretch, and he opened one eye fully.

"Merlin, you are so sexy when you do that," Draco's voice growled lazily as he watched Harry's unconscious show of flesh.

A sleepy smirk crossed Harry's face – that voice spoke directly to his desire and he allowed himself to reach down and run his hand across the sheet, outlining an evident bulge. A small gasp escaped Draco's lips and Harry wasn't surprised to find that his voyeur lover appeared to be enjoying his unconscious movements. A deep blush coloured his cheeks as he thought about what else he wanted to do whilst Draco watched. "Haven't you got enough photos?" he asked sulkily, running his hand lazily ran down his chest. "Somehow I think I conjured some sort of monster the moment I showed you how to use that bloody thing."

Draco put aside the camera, and even though he wasn't wearing his glasses, Harry could easily see what lay under Draco's loosely tied dressing gown. "The only time I get to take pictures of you being totally natural is when you're sleeping. Those damn media hounds have certainly spoiled it for those of us who want to take your picture." His eyes wandered down as Harry's hand now moved beneath the sheet. "What's this? Starting without me?" he said petulantly.

He looked up at Draco, his eyes now fully open and darkened with lust. He could see the desire filtering across Draco's face as he unconsciously licked his lips. "You know the problem with waking up from a thoroughly erotic dream is that I usually want to dive straight back in and feel it all over again."

It was an invitation that Draco didn't refuse as he doffed his dressing gown and crawled across the bed in one predatory movement. "So tell me, was this the usual dream, or were we doing something a little ... different?" Draco asked with a seductive pout as he crawled over to join Harry. He swatted away Harry's hand as a wide grin crossed Harry's face.

"Who says you were in my dream?" he asked cheekily, grinding his hips up into Draco's hand.

Draco threw his head back in laughter, exposing the inviting flesh of his neck as he did so. He sat up to kiss that expanse of smooth skin (Draco was always thoughtful enough to go to the trouble of doing an early morning Depilio charm), and his hand sought to reach for any part of Draco's flesh, but the blond was too quick, moving down and away from Harry's reach.

"Dreaming about someone else, Hmmm?" Draco asked as he watched Harry's eyes widened in the pleasurable pain. He slid down, his tongue bathing a path down Harry's chest, his lips stopping short. The deep groan that escaped Harry's lips turned into a whimper as he unconsciously thrust upward. Draco certainly knew all the tricks when it came to torturing him.

"Perhaps I should just pleasure myself alone," he suggested in a teasing tone. "Maybe then you'll think twice before dreaming about someone else." He sat up, leaning against the bedpost. Harry was still a little stunned by the deft movement as he was mesmerised by the sight of Draco, eyelids fluttering as he began to pleasure himself in front of Harry.

Not one to put up with such behaviour, Harry attempted to move, only to discover that his hands were now bound to the bed head – one with a silk scarf, the other with his old Gryffindor school tie. He couldn't remember seeing Draco pull out his wand, but then again, Draco's mastery of non-verbal spells was quite extensive, particularly when it came to their bed sports. Draco would always have some other spell in his arsenal to surprise him.

Whatever, it certainly gave Harry something to look forward to each time they made love. Or fucked. Harry didn't really know what to call it. Some days it felt warm and fuzzy and he felt all emotional, and other days he wanted it hard and rough and gritty. He might feel shagged out beyond belief, but he was never, ever bored. The connection of their lovemaking was only one of the joys of having finally found his soul mate, and it was something he wanted to share over and over again. Forever.

Lost in his musings, he almost forgot Draco was intent on pleasuring himself, and had totally forgotten about Harry. The blond leaned against the bedpost, completely absorbed in putting on a show. Exhibitionist. Harry ached for attention as he watched one of Draco's hands working himself for his own pleasure.

Even without his glasses, he could see the bead of sweat trickling down Draco's face, as he adjusted position. Harry now had a perfect view of everything as Draco put on quite a display. Harry couldn't get enough of watching that. He writhed and desperately wanted Draco to touch him. He nearly managed it, bringing Draco's foot close enough for his toes to touch.

They touched for only a brief moment. Draco moved further away as he realised what Harry was doing, and he stopped his ministrations for a mere second to grab his wand and cast another non-verbal spell at Harry's feet. Within seconds he felt the smooth fabric around his ankles as his feet were spread and bound to the bedposts.

This was more than torture. He could do nothing but watch, and began to unconsciously pant like a dog. His complete focus was on Draco, but his own desire was aching.

"Still dreaming about him?" Draco asked with a hint of jealousy in his voice.

"Huh?" Harry had no idea where Draco's question came from.

"Your erotic dream. Still think it's better than the real thing?"

Harry could barely think, let alone answer such a question. He finally remembered what this was all about, and shook his head. "No, I was only kidding. There's nobody else but you."

The smirk on Draco's face as he answered was familiar, yet a little cruel. Harry thought Draco might relent and give him some relief, but he seemed satisfied by Harry's answer as he went back to fulfilling his own pleasure. Harry groaned in disappointment.

Harry didn't blink as he watched Draco reach his completion. He wanted to share in that moment, but was denied by his bonds. Harry always loved that look of self satisfied delight on Draco's face at that point, but this time, he didn't see that look – the one he had always known to be there.

Why was it missing? Harry frowned as Draco slumped back against the bedpost. Normally by this time Draco would have undone his bonds, but Draco sat back as if Harry wasn't even there.

Harry struggled against his bonds, but found that the more he pulled against them, the tighter they wound. He looked up to ask Draco to take them off, but the blond was gone. He was surprised to find that he was fully dressed in his best robes.

"Draco?" he asked in complete confusion.

"I'm sorry, Potter. Did you honestly think this would last?"

Harry seemed confused by Draco's hurtful words. What in the hell was happening? Why...?

"Don't you get it, Potter? It's over. Sure, it was fun, but I'm with Oliver now. He's right. You really have to stop being so clingy. Besides, we're doomed if we stay together."

Draco's hand was on the door, and Harry was still tied to the bed. "I don't understand... we're soul mates..." he had no idea what was happening and his heart hammered in his chest in dread.

Draco scoffed, the cruelty in the smile on his face was well-remembered. "You seriously can't believe all that soul mate rubbish, Potter. Besides, those journals are cursed. Now, I think it best that I leave, don't you?"

"See you around, Potter." The words vibrated through his head as he heard the door banging shut. Again, then again. The door slammed yet again, and Harry didn't know if it was the door or the beating of his broken heart, but within the next moment, he couldn't move at all, and he found that he couldn't breathe either.

The more he struggled the harder he found it to take a breath and his distress was mounting by the second...

...Until he finally sat up in bed, taking the deepest lungful of breath as the sweat poured from him. His heart thundered painfully in his chest, and the shutter on the window was banging loudly in the strong breeze. He wasn't tied to the bed, and the bedclothes were bundled into a ball at his feet. The sheets were damp with sweat and his pyjama bottoms were twisted uncomfortably.

It took Harry all of a few minutes to realise that it had been only a dream. Only the same ghastly nightmare repeated night after night. He didn't need that, not when the reality was much worse.

He didn't want to think about it, not whilst he was awake. Why his dreams continued to taunt him, he had no idea. The purpose of running away was to forget about his humiliation at the hands of Draco – and that's exactly what he needed to do. How else could he move on? He didn't need for his subconscious to keep reminding him of what he lost. He knew exactly what was gone, and Draco was now just another foolish mistake that he could certainly add to his other list of failures.

So why couldn't he just forget?

Harry's hand went automatically to the bedside table, but it didn't close over his glasses. Instead, he grabbed the bottle of rice wine, dragging it across the table, knocking his glasses to the floor in the process. He squinted and tried to focus as he saw the dregs weren't enough to even wet his lips. He tossed it away in disgust when he remembered it was the last bottle he found in the cupboard in Lao Kuai's hideaway in the remote part of Fujian Province, China. It shattered in a most satisfying way against the wall as Harry fell back onto the cold and uninviting futon.

His head throbbed. Whether it was from the hangover or the pent up anger or the fact that he couldn't get Draco out of his dreams, he couldn't tell. He didn't particularly care. More than once he considered Obliviating the memory of the past few months, but he decided against it when he realised he'd probably just foolishly make the same mistakes again, and he really did need to learn the lesson. Drowning and pickling himself in alcohol was much less complicated and much easier to achieve.

If he could forget, then he could stop having to constantly justify running away, when part of him kept suggesting he return home. But he couldn't stop hearing Oliver's words in his head, and he couldn't stop seeing that flirtatious blond smirk aimed at someone else. No, he had done the right thing. It was better that he left when he did than to make a bigger fool out of himself than he already had. He might be miserable as shit, but at least he had pre-empted the impending tragedy had they stayed together. We're doomed if he stays with me. Draco's words to Remus rang over and over in his mind, and he was inclined to agree that there had to be some sort of magical curse that turned his world upside down.

No, leaving had been the right thing to do. It wasn't difficult to remain Unplottable, and he was happy to stay that way. He would stay hidden until they all forgot about him. Perhaps then Draco could move on and find happiness with someone else. It was cold solace, but at least he knew one of them would be happy. Everything he ever wanted was always ruined because of damn prophecies or Dark wizards or curses. Why did he ever think that Draco would be any different? He obviously wanted more than Harry could give – why else would he go after Oliver... and Charlie?

Perhaps it was best that he left when he did. If Draco had been so inclined to stray, then it was best that he leave before it was too late. He still has the memories of their few wonderful months together, and that would just have to do. He didn't want to think about his future, but was solitude really so bad? If Lao Kuai could make a life out of solitude and contemplation, then he could certainly try. The life of a monk seemed quite appealing.

He slammed his eyes shut as he tried to stop the flood of memories. They would only result in more tears, and that was something he couldn't bear right now. If he thought he was all cried out, then he was completely wrong. Closing his eyes really didn't help, for he could see nothing but Draco, and the wonderful weeks they shared together. Everything had been wonderful but he could plainly see that Oliver's arrival was the start of all the trouble.

Against his better judgement, Harry once again allowed himself to relive the memories of both the best and worst time of his young life. What else was there for him to do now that he couldn't even drown his sorrows in drink?

---

VII. All that you speak...

Draco's life had taken a distinct turn for the better over the past few months, despite the major setbacks orchestrated by the Neo Death Eaters. If he were truly honest, they were actually instrumental in helping bring him together with Harry. Well, no, that wasn't completely true – it was the journals that did that – but without Harry risking his life for him during that showdown with the Neo Death Eaters, he would never really have admitted how much he loved his soul mate.

But Draco had experienced enough disappointment in his life to know that his idyllic life couldn't be maintained forever. The cynic in him just knew that there was still some hurdle around the corner. Of course, he was not prepared and was in shock when it did happen.

Draco ran his hand through his hair yet again, blinking rapidly and opening his eyes wider to stave off his weariness. The heavy bags under his eyes belied the fact he hadn't slept as he took another drag off the cigarette. He'd given up for Harry's sake, but in the past few days he had needed to keep his hands busy, and instinct made him reach for the packet. Anyone wanting to question his habit was highly likely to have their head bitten off, and everyone was giving Draco a very wide berth.

Grim despair was etched on his face as he tried yet again to focus on the crystal dowsing stone swinging wildly from the cord wrapped tightly around his fingers. It was testament to his desperation that he was resorting to this imprecise method of Divination. He growled in frustration as the stone was showing no signs of cooperating, and he stood, snatching his coffee cup as he strode over to the window. Cup in one hand and cigarette in the other, he looked down into the courtyard. Disappointment crossed his face as he didn't find Harry down there doing his T'ai Chi forms, but then again, he knew that was a far fetched hope.

The rational part of his mind was telling him not to be stupid – that Harry wasn't just suddenly going to appear in the courtyard, yet the small but ever so optimistic part of his brain never lost hope that the past few days were just a horrid nightmare and that Harry wasn't gone.

Gone.

Harry never came home from his trip to find Weasley, and since then Draco had experienced five of the worst days of his life. The uncertainty and despair felt worse than when Harry's life hung in the balance after being struck with the Aboleo Adesum curse. Five days now, and Draco was determined not to let it turn into six. The dowsing stone was the last in a very long line of methods to try and locate his soul mate, and like everything else, it was proving just as ineffective. He didn't want to think about what would happen when he had exhausted all magical and Muggle means to locate Harry, but he knew he would never give up. He couldn't, not when he knew the whole thing hinged just one huge misunderstanding.

Just how do you explain that to one of the world's most powerful wizards when he's angry enough to make himself Unplottable?

Draco wore a pained smile as he thought back on the comedy of miscommunications that escalated to the point where Harry was ready to give up on everything. A very small part of Draco was upset that Harry questioned his fidelity and trust, yet not once did he ask Draco to justify his suspicions.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt his sanity slowly slipping through his fingers, and he took yet another long drag off the cigarette. He had thought the worst after initially discovering Harry was missing. A part of him felt enormous relief that Harry had run away instead. At least he was not lying dead in some Muggle back alley, but then again, he couldn't contact Harry, so he could now be dead in a Muggle back alley. The thought made him sick to the stomach.

That sick feeling had not abated since he Flooed Hermione very late on Sunday night – long after Harry promised he would be home. He'd tasted nothing but bile in the back of his throat when she told him Fred returned on Saturday afternoon and that Harry had apparently done the same...

He instantly thought the worst. He suspected everything from the Neo Death Eaters capturing him to Harry being hit by a Muggle vehicle, but he never suspected Harry's own lack of self-esteem or their own poor communications would cause him to just up and leave.

Hindsight was always a wonderful thing, and Draco had wished for a Time Turner more than once since he'd stumbled across the real reason why Harry had not returned.

In the immediate hours after discovering Harry's disappearance, Draco had tried every way possible to locate him. He'd exhausted nearly every owl in the school with letters to try and pinpoint his location. They all came back unopened. He tried every location spell he knew, every tracking spell in his repertoire, even sifting through Muggle hospitals and police stations to locate him, but there was no sign of his soul mate. He tried to follow Harry's last known steps in Cardiff, but there was nothing suspicious, not even a tingle of residual magic in the air.

He'd known things between them had been strained since the start of term, and he regretted ever accepting the offer to take over some of Severus' classes until Christmas, but he would never have connected the pieces in the puzzle if he had not stumbled upon a parting gift from Harry – his rather confusing and painful memories.

After searching through every shelf and draw in his and Harry's rooms, he'd stumbled across the crystal bottle in his own cupboard. Having no recollection of putting anything there, he quickly took the clues to Severus, who advised they were memories, and that he should seek out the Headmaster to view them in a Pensieve.

The Headmaster seemed quite unconcerned by Harry's disappearance, citing his previous 'time outs' as being common enough, and that Harry would return in his own good time. Apart from thinking that really wasn't a good attitude to have about one of your members of staff, Draco sensed the Headmaster's lopsided grin was the first visible sign of senility. Still, he got what he needed when the old man let him use his Pensieve to view the memories.

Harry had been gone for two days by this stage, so Draco was feeling quite highly strung when he entered the basin filled with Harry's memories. His own fatigue from weeks of stressful classes added to the stress of Harry's disappearance, and he could barely think of anything other than bringing Harry home. He didn't give a toss about his classes, or his research, which showed him exactly where his priorities lay.

He was the first to admit he had not given Harry enough of his time and attention, and that he had been more focussed on work than anything else. Of course now he could see his mistake, but it seemed that as he stepped into Harry's memories, he had been correct in his unspoken suspicions. He had known Harry had become a little more reserved since school started, but now he knew for certain that things had started to change the day the day that Oliver Wood dared to show his smug mug at Hogwarts.

The first memory replayed that day of the term's first staff meeting. He saw the surprised yet confronting tone Harry showed towards Wood the moment that he first arrived. Harry's hostility towards his ex lover was so tangible, Draco could feel it in the memory. He watched everyone in the memory carefully, and he could see that Charlie had a similar reaction to his own hostile one.

It seemed that Wood didn't have a clue just how uncomfortable his presence was making Harry feel, but from what Draco recalled of Flash's conversations about 'Ollie', the git had the emotional range of a brick, and rarely thought with more than his penis. Draco could see himself in the memory, and his own hostile glare as his hand fondled the hilt of his wand. Draco so desperately wanted to hex Wood at that moment, but had refrained in deference to Harry.

Seeing the memory through Harry's eyes, he could see that Harry wanted him to deal with Wood, and he regretted never taking the chance. He overheard the greasy tone in Wood's well chosen words, but as it was Harry's memory, he could also sense just how uncomfortable Harry had felt. Wood's cologne was distracting Harry. Undoubtedly it had a lot of memories attached to that, as Draco knew how much Harry appreciated scent.

Harry said he was okay with Oliver's presence at Hogwarts, yet that memory contradicted his words. It had been evident from Harry's nervous energy around Wood, and it had been obvious that his presence unnerved Harry, despite what he said. It was obvious that Wood had been a crucial player in this whole debacle, and when Draco saw him again, it would be quite a while before he would be blocking any Quaffles.

Harry had been mollified somewhat when Draco spoke to him during their break that day, but he sensed Harry's disappointment when he needed to spend most of the afternoon with Severus. But Draco had seen the immediate change in Harry's demeanour at the sight of his ex lover. Draco should have gone to him immediately – should have offered the type of support that Harry desperately needed. He knew he had been remiss in his obligation to his soul mate, all because of his lingering guilt over Severus' condition.

He leapt out of the Pensieve as he gathered his bearings. Draco now regretted his eagerness to take up the offer to teach Severus' classes, but how could he have said no? It was bad enough that he felt guilty for letting Severus become injured, and now it was at the expense of helping his soul mate, and he felt an even greater guilt for not being there for Harry.

Draco knew he was not cut out to be a teacher – he realised that now. He was a researcher at heart. He could not must any sympathy for ungrateful students with no care for Potions, and he could completely understand Severus' very short temper.

He pulled out another of the silvery memories and allowed it to float down into the Pensieve. This seemed to be a much more jovial memory than the last as Harry made his way up the stairs in his sweaty Quidditch robes. Draco had always been suspicious of the amount of time he was spending on his broom, but the Harry in this memory was eager to get back to their rooms. Harry stopped, and Draco realised he was listening to a conversation through a partially open door.

His heart beat heavily in his chest as he heard his own voice. He remembered this conversation, and he now fervently wished he had never gone to Remus with his unfounded concerns. It had been one of his regular afternoon teas with Remus, where they discussed his health in relation to the Wolfsbane potion. Their friendly banter now included plenty of teasing from Draco about Remus' new beau – Jean-Paul. Remus' seemed much happier than Draco could remember, and if his memory served, Jean-Paul would certainly make sure Remus was never left wanting.

He remembered how he had come to the conclusion that there had to be a curse on the Journal Intime Partagé. He had been thinking about Remus, and his soul mate, Sirius, and how as soul mates, they had some time of joy before tragedy befell their love. It didn't take him long to think back to Lily and James Potter and the tragedy that befell them as they fell in love – after discovering they were soul mates through the journals...

From there, it wasn't a very large leap of logic to conclude that those magical journals did more than just help soul mates come together. They were cursed. Just when everything was going along smoothly, things would suddenly go horribly wrong, and everyone would end up dead, or someone was bound to live in distress as his soul mate was gone. Whatever, the joy the soul mates experienced was ripped out from under them.

That thought had burned in Draco's chest. He didn't want to think about it, yet like an earworm, he couldn't get the thought out of his head. The longer he let it fester in his mind, the more convinced he became that something tragic was going to happen to him or to Harry.

It was unfair to keep his concern from Harry, but he didn't know how he was going to broach the subject with him. Yeah, you know how we're soul mates and we discovered it through the journals, well guess what, Voldemort might not have managed to get you, but we're doomed. Bummer, wot?

He never mentioned it to Harry, but it seemed now that Harry had overheard the conversation as he spilled his concerns to Remus.

"I think you're overreacting, Draco," he heard Remus said quite convincingly as they shared afternoon tea. Harry was standing right up behind the door, and there was no way he could mistake the wordsDraco kept an eagle eye on the memory Harry, watching the painful play of emotions on his face.

The entire conversation played out exactly as Draco remembered, but this time he could see the crestfallen and confused look on Harry's face as he realised the implication of the cursed journals. He wondered why this memory bothered Harry so much, when Remus managed to quell his own concerns, but a moment later, he saw that Harry never heard the end of the conversation.

"Are you saying you want to leave Harry?" Remus asked the memory Draco. It was at that very moment that the memory Harry turned away from the door, sneaking away carefully, but with a pasty look on his face. Harry overheard only part of the conversation. He never heard the whole thing...

The memory faded away to nothing as Harry ran back to their quarters and he staggered out of the Pensieve. So Harry knew, and he left before he heard I'd never leave him. No wonder he cooked that fabulous meal and we made love until the sun came up. Draco didn't want to think about that now – he couldn't get bogged down in reminiscing about their good times. He had every intention of a long future with many more of those memories. Would he really think I would leave him?

For Harry had missed the most crucial part of the conversation – Draco's response to the question. He closed his eyes as he thought about what Remus said.

"Are you saying you want to leave Harry?" Remus asked.

"No... no, not at all... How could you think that I'd ever want to leave Harry? But if it stopped a tragedy..."

"Draco," Remus said, "Those incidents were just a tragic coincidence. James and Lily were marked by Voldemort, and unfortunately Sirius was thrown into the deep end because of Pettigrew. I'm not trying to make light of these events, they were life shattering, but we know nothing of the books before that time. What's to say that the previous couples didn't live long and happy lives together?" Remus pleaded.

"I guess you're right," Draco said, but deep in his heart he was still convinced that there was an external force out to get them.

He'd not given the curse much thought between that day and the day Harry disappeared, but now he could see that Harry overheard, and for some reason he began to close himself off. Draco couldn't understand why Harry just never asked him about the curse, or for that matter why he never told the truth about how Wood made him feel. It was as if he was closing himself off and turning in on himself when he began to worry.

It made him think that perhaps his own inaccessibility was to blame. When did he and Harry get a chance to talk? All they seemed to do was bicker and disagree and argue when they weren't sleeping or making love. Looking back now, the arguments seemed so petty, so childish, but between his and Harry's stubborn natures, neither wanted to give an inch. Throwing himself into his work at the expense of private time with Harry was not the best idea, but he only had himself to blame. He was surprised at his own reaction when Harry blurted out his disappointment at Maggie's sorting.

Harry's thoughts on Slytherin really weren't that far removed from his own bias about Gryffindors. If Draco were truly honest with himself, he would admit that he too was surprised when Maggie landed in Slytherin. He was concerned at first (for all the reasons Harry mentioned), but within a couple of weeks, she overcame her shyness and he could see the girl's grim determination and thirst to prove herself come to the fore. Traits that were inherently Slytherin. This could possibly be a side effect of her curse, but she was one strong young girl who left a lasting impression on everyone she met. He felt such a hypocrite, and swore to do what he could to fix that.

Draco never wanted to publicly admit the concerns that plagued his conscience once Wood arrived at the school. Harry seemed more keen than ever to get on a broom, and more often than not he came home trying to hide his sweaty Quidditch robes, or having showered quickly, but still smelling of brooms and broom polish. That fresh flush on his face could have come from a dizzying flight in the breeze, but Draco knew all too well what else caused Harry's cheeks to glow like that.

He realised now that the chance of anything happening between Wood and Harry was as unlikely as he and Severus ever sleeping together, and that thought was ghastly enough.

He could still see a number of memories to be viewed, and he pulled another out of the bottle. Just minutes later he ripped himself away from the Pensieve, ashen faced and shaking his head furiously. He needed to sit down. Right then he was grateful the Headmaster left him alone in his office as he used the Pensieve, for he didn't want the old man prying, but as he sad down, Fawkes trilled loudly, bringing him back to the present.

No, he thought as he shook his head. That's not what happened at all, Harry. Oh how I wish you had been there a moment earlier, or even a moment later, and you would have seen the whole thing. He conjured a glass of water as he sat back and relived the memory from his own perspective.

--oo0oo--

Draco was flat out in his classroom. He hated Fridays, when he couldn't even get away and have lunch. A quick sandwich and a double shot espresso was enough to fuel him through the afternoon, but he was always hungry. He realised that he was now short of Armadillo bile for the afternoon class (it appeared that Ermina de Wittington-Smythe was even less capable than he suspected, as she managed to not only blow up her cauldron, but coat most of the front of the classroom with a rather insidious goo that bore absolutely no resemblance to a wart removing brew. Unfortunately, it was quite toxic to the Armadillo bile sitting on the bench ready for the afternoon classes).

He needed to make a quick dash back up to his workroom so he could grab some more bile from his own stores. A quick dash for Draco, of course meant that if he went as fast as possible, he would be there and back in time for the start of class. As he left the classroom, he was rather surprised to see Wood lurking around the hallway.

"Ah, Malfoy, there you are," he said with a charming grin.

"Wood," Draco nodded but didn't stop. He quickly found a strong hand grab him by the arm and drag him into the alcove behind some hideous statue – Brunhilda the Batty, or something like that – he never really paid any attention to bad sculpture. Wood stepped back when he found a pale wand pointed directly at his chest.

"Come now, there's no need for that," he smiled warily.

"On the contrary, Wood, I'm not used to being manhandled like that."

"Yeah, it's a pity Harry never really took my lessons in manhandling to heart," Oliver said with a sly wink. "I take it you'd like to be manhandled."

"You're not endearing yourself in any way, shape or form, Wood. Now, was there a purpose to this or can I go? I am rather busy." Draco could barely tolerate this pretentious berk's presence, and his wand hand was getting very itchy.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Malfoy. There's no need to be hostile. I just thought we should... chat. I doubt you'll need to hex me, unless you're planning something else nefarious with your wand. I'm actually surprised you haven't tried to hex me by now. I'm gathering Harry's painted me as a vile cad..."

"Oh, I don't think vile cad quite cuts it..." Draco could think of a dozen worse names to call Oliver, but he doubted he could get away with any of them right then. Knowing his luck, a bunch of students would be walking past and would overhear them.

"You never heard my side of the story, Malfoy. Perhaps I should enlighten you about a few of Harry's less admirable qualities..."

"I'm fully aware of Harry's more... endearing qualities and I'm quite happy to have him just as he is, thank you very much."

"He's not perfect, you know," Wood somehow managed to move so that Draco was backed up against the wall of the alcove. He put his hand up on the wall, effectively trapping Draco. "You know, you seem to be quite fit, and I doubt you're as puritanical as Harry... I'm sure that we could come to some... arrangement... something that would be beneficial to the both of us."

Draco just blinked – completely stunned by what utter garbage was coming out of Wood's mouth. Was he honestly propositioning him? Wood took his silence as acquiescence as he brought a hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Draco's ear. Wood leaned in closer and breathed across his ear. "Of course, Harry need not ever know." He let out a snort of laughter as his hand came up to cup Draco's chin.

Draco smiled – a smarmy and sneaky smile, but a smile just the same. Wood seemed to relax at Draco's apparent acceptance of his offer, as he grazed a thumb lovingly along Draco's cheekbone...

...Draco sat with his head in his hands as he relived this memory. Harry ran off just as the witnessed this part of Oliver's vile proposition, and he never got the chance to see Draco's rejection. Why was he always running away from the middle of a conversation?

...Wood stepped away with a stunned look of surprise as he found Draco's wand sticking directly into his scrotum. Draco stepped closer, poking the wand in even further. "I don't know what you think you're playing at, Wood, but if you value your virility, I would suggest that you forget you ever thought it was a good idea to proposition me. Harry intimated you were lacking in morals, and he was right. I don't know if you thought it was a good idea just because you're horny and desperate for a shag, but I'm sure there are some boys down in Des Spirit Alley in Hogsmeade who might oblige a fallen Quidditch star..."

"But..." Wood started to protest as he backed away. Draco didn't move his wand at all.

"Now, I'm going to say this only once. I know exactly how much you hurt Harry, and your presence here is not only disturbing him, it's pissing me off no end. I suggest you stay as far away from us as possible, and perhaps then I'll forget that this ever happened. Put one foot out of line, and you'll be in so much pain, it will make the agony of being bludgered in the balls feel like a gentle massage." A tick in Draco's cheek betraying the fury he was keeping bottled inside, but Wood noticed, and winced at the imagery.

Wood blanched, but quickly stood taller, making a great show of adjusting his Quidditch gear. Draco could tell Wood had been getting off on trying to seduce him, but his ardour definitely flagged at Draco's threatening tone. "You know," he spat, "I'd watch that possessive streak you have going there. If there's one thing Harry can't stand, it's someone trying to own him."

Draco just shook his head, "It just goes to show you don't have the foggiest notion about Harry at all. If I had the time and the inclination, I'd try to explain the difference between being possessive and caring for someone exclusively. I'd try, but obviously your brain is only wired to understand Quidditch and your own self absorbed ego."

Wood just stood there, stunned at Draco's reaction and unable to make a witty comeback as Draco pushed his way past and fled down the corridor as fast as dignity and his knee would allow.

--oo0oo--

Draco was horrified that Harry had to see that scene. Even he flinched at the very thought of it, and he didn't blame Harry for the openly pained look of emotion on his face, Draco didn't need to guess what Harry had suspected he saw – Merlin, if he had seen Harry in the same place, and run off at that specific moment, he would have thought the same. His own stomach churned, and he was getting a horrid feeling that Harry's disappearance wasn't quite so unplanned.

Has he left these specific memories as a message to me? Why did he not trust me? Why would he even question my fidelity? That hurt Draco more than anything, but he was beginning to realise that Harry's disappearance was more than likely planned, and that he was in perfectly good health, but somewhere that nobody would find him.

There were still a couple of memories left in the bottles, and he knew he had to see this through to the end – there could still be more clues as to why Harry chose to leave – for he was in no doubt that Harry left voluntarily. He pulled a memory out of the jar – the strands strong and bright as he practically threw it into the basin. He was keen to get to the bottom of this, and now that his suspicions were leaning in a distinctly unpleasant direction, he needed to confirm them.

It was the same day as the last memory, only the Great Hall was in the throes of breakfast. He remembered coming in late to the hall and seeing Wood leaning over Harry as he mumbled in Harry's ear.

He was late to breakfast because he had been interrupted by a group of first year Slytherins, including Maggie, as they questioned him incessantly about an upcoming test in Potions class.

"So if we pay you, you'll give us the answers to the test beforehand?" Eloise Boorman asked hopefully.

"Sure," Draco was in high spirits and was having a little bit of fun. "If you pay me enough, I might even give you the right answers." This had startled the girls momentarily, but he could still see their scheming minds at work.

"Right, so if we pay you enough Galleons, you'll give us the right answers. What's the catch?" Maggie caught on fast, ruining his little game.

Draco couldn't help but smile as they made their way into the Great Hall. "Ah, you caught me out, Miss Gadbury," Draco tried not to call her Maggie during class time or around her class mates. "I can only tell you that the fee for the correct answers to the test that you will be taking is a sum that is well out of your reach, or anyone's for that matter. I suggest that you study the notes from all your classes so far. That should give you some insight into what questions will be on your test." Their immediate groans could not help hide his grin as they parted company.

There were a few moments where he could appreciate teaching, but they were few and far between. He knew the girls had only asked because it was a common tradition in Slytherin for the older students to trick the youngsters into thinking that bribery and corruption could work with all their professors. Draco knew the sad truth that bribery only worked on the weakest of staff, and this was as much a test of his mettle as it was theirs.

He looked up at the table and saw the only spare seat was next to Severus. Harry was sitting next to Wood, who seemed to be talking – although Harry was doing his level best to ignore him. Draco kept an eagle eye on his soul mate throughout the meal as he regaled the story of the first years to Severus, who laughed and seemed very pleased that Draco used the very same story that Severus used on him when he was a bold and brash first year looking to impress the likes of Marcus Flint.

Draco knew that Harry was watching him – he could feel those eyes practically undressing him at the table. Still in a somewhat cheeky mood, he decided to do some not-so-subtle flirting. He threw a completely unsubtle look in Harry's direction and knew that he would be as lewd as possible with his hands. It wasn't hard to turn Harry on that way as he made exaggerated gestures with his hands as he ate – playing with the shell of his ear, breathing in deeply and savouring his coffee with eyes closed as he fondled his cup most suggestively.

He was planning on doing the seductive banana peel, but he heard Harry drop his fork quite loudly, and he turned back to look. Something obviously was wrong as Wood smirked and Harry just went pale. He tried to look away, asking Severus about something, but all the while he kept an eagle eye on what was going on. He would have desperately loved to set an overhearing charm, but Harry quickly stood, knocking over his chair before stalking out of the Great Hall.

Draco watched the memory now from Harry's perspective, taken from the moment Wood first spoke to him. He was speechless at Wood's manipulation and blatant disregard for propriety. Either the man was deluded or under the influence of badly brewed Felix Felicis. It partially explained Wood's blatant come-on over lunch, but he was as equally infuriated as Harry by what he heard.

"Still, he's got a great mouth, hasn't he? The way that tongue wraps around you, and the way that mole quivers as he bites his lower lip during sex... He's got the prettiest face – those lashes are too beautiful and they hide that usual screwed up look most guys get... No – I don't blame you at all, Harry. Who could resist that? Yep, he certainly makes you feel more of a man, doesn't he?"

Wood was delusional. Delusional and so very, very dead. Draco was shaking in fury as he could sense Harry's emotions coming through the memory. He could already interpret the look on Harry's face. It was the same face coupled with the one he saw when Harry oversaw Wood's proposition... Wood was definitely a dead man, and Harry had completely misread the signals, but he only had Wood to blame.

Draco threw himself out of the Pensieve as he realised he couldn't strangle the memory version of Wood that stood before him. He realised his hands were shaking with fury and he had to hold both sides of the Pensieve to keep his balance. Wood coerced Harry into thinking I was unfaithful? How could Harry question my fidelity? Why didn't he say something? Draco was both upset and confused by this, but realised his own hypocrisy when he remembered how he had been questioning Harry's loyalty. He very quickly overcame his own doubts about Harry, but it was obvious now that Harry had completely misconstrued numerous half-conversations.

Why didn't he say something – anything? It's not like him to just sit back and not say a word... Right, and you wouldn't do the same? Who didn't want to burden Harry with the likelihood the journals were cursed. Be honest, when did you ever get a chance to talk? You have been so self absorbed in your work and your guilt to Severus. Admit it – you've been neglecting Harry. You could practically count on one hand the number of times you've made love since school started, when before the holidays you were aiming for that many times a day sometimes...

He ran a hand through his hair, his hands shaking at the revelation that he was an utter fool. Every time you did manage to be able to talk to Harry you were always so argumentative. You utter fool. Did he even think to ask someone else? Remus, Charlie...

Draco needed to sit down to absorb all this information, but there was still one more memory in the jar. He was almost frightened to think what it might be, for he had no idea, but if it followed the pattern of the previous memories, then no doubt Harry would have seen or heard part of something that would make his again question Draco's fidelity or trust. Whatever the memory, it must have confirmed Harry's suspicions.

Within seconds he realised he had been quite correct, but Harry yet again only saw one frame of a much larger tableau, and he had jumped to the most incorrect of conclusions. Again he relived the memory from his own perspective, but this time he put his memory of the event into the Pensieve to see how Harry could have misconstrued it.

It was the previous Saturday and Harry was still looking for the Weasel. He had not felt like joining in any Sabbat celebrations without Harry, and if he were totally honest, he was a little put out by the fact he was chasing after the Weasel after the promise of a weekend together. He had pushed aside all work – his marking was up to date and the preparation for classes was ready. He only had to start working on this month's Wolfsbane potion, but that could wait until Monday. The full moon wasn't until the following Sunday – the ninth, so they could have had a wonderful weekend together.

After spending all of Friday evening moping around, he felt a little guilty for having argued before Harry left. Draco always knew the topic of Harry's oldest friend would get messy, he also knew Harry had made up his mind to search for him – that's what Harry always did. Draco didn't have to like it, and he didn't, but he was powerless to stop him. He vaguely remembered saying goodbye, but he was half asleep and he didn't really know if Harry was still cross. Harry must have known that Draco wouldn't just willingly accept that Harry would go and search for the Weasel git; Draco couldn't forget what he had done to him and his estate, and he doubted he would be very forgiving if and when he was found. Weasley had never liked him – loathed would be a more appropriate term, so Draco was quite inclined to think that the git was working under his own steam and no coerced by anyone else.

But that was beside the point, Harry was gone, and Draco would be ready for when he came back. He needed to wine and dine Harry. That seemed to be a compromise that should please Harry. He started to cook up a fine meal that he left under preservation charms for when Harry returned. It was as much an apology as it was for being neglectful. He prepared the fresh vegetable pasta sauce and left it on a slow simmer – with the right charm it could simmer for days and not overcook. The meat was fresh and marinating in a sauce that would only enhance the tenderness of the meal. He also chose an Australian Cabernet-Merlot blend red wine – a perfect accompaniment to the chosen meal. He knew Harry detested Merlot, but he figured a fine blend from Australia's Margaret River would help his palate adjust to the taste of such a wine.

He slept dreadfully on Friday night, mostly because, he realised, that Harry wasn't in their bed. He smiled when he realised he was now referring to it as their bed. Their rooms, their bed...

Severus Flooed and asked if Draco would like lunch with him and Charlie. The meal was a pleasant distraction, and Draco's worries turned to Severus. He said nothing but it appeared he was no closer to losing the involuntary tremors in his hands, Draco began to suspect his teaching duties would extend well beyond the Christmas break.

Charlie walked Draco back to his rooms afterwards as Draco sensing he wanted to discuss Severus' health alone. Charlie admitted that Severus was showing no signs of improvement, which was frustrating to the Potions master more than anyone else. Somehow their conversation turned to Harry, and Charlie's concerns with the presence of Oliver Wood.

"So, what does Harry have to say about Wood being here? It's pretty obvious he's not totally comfortable," Charlie said as they wandered through the courtyard.

Draco shrugged. "Harry's not really said a word, Charlie. I haven't pushed the subject at all because I don't want Harry to dwell on the subject."

"I'm surprised Harry hasn't said anything." Charlie had the decency to look a little uncomfortable around Draco. "I know exactly how he felt at the time. He, er... might have done a few wild things to help cope at the time."

"Don't worry, Charlie, he told me all about what happened with you. Thank goodness he turned to someone who didn't take advantage."

"Wood is the greatest prick I've ever met," Charlie said, and Charlie rarely said bad things about anyone. ""What I wouldn't do to just spend five minutes alone with him. I just need a wand, or my fists might suffice."

Draco snorted. "Well, get in the queue. Unfortunately Wood is doing more than just making Harry uncomfortable, the great loping prat. He tried to proposition me the other day."

"Really?" Charlie swivelled on his foot and looked directly at Draco. "Are you sure it was a proposition?"

Draco just rolled his eyes. "I don't know... Perhaps I should show you – you decide for yourself."

Draco then proceeded to show Charlie exactly what Wood had said to him, right down to the soft touch on his cheek. Charlie's mouth hung open during most of the retelling, and the perfect tone in which Draco retold it.

As Draco was talking, he sensed an energetic magical disturbance. He turned towards the bridge and spotted the edge of someone's robes as they moved out of sight. As quickly as it arrived, the magical outburst was gone. Nothing untoward seemed to have happened, so he turned his attention back to Charlie and his gobsmacked reaction to Wood's bold attempt to proposition Draco.

There it was again – the strange occurrence that he thought nothing of. This time, Draco was ready and kept his eye on the entrance to the bridge. He knew what he expected to see this time, and wasn't surprised when Harry came blustering along, all smiles. His face dropped suddenly and that pale, ghostly look crossed his face again. It quickly turned to anger and fury, and Draco could see the power surrounding and infusing Harry. He clenched and unclenched his arm and his nostrils flared.

Draco dared to follow Harry's line of sight. Just as he thought – it was right at the moment when he was retelling Oliver's proposition, and he just happened to be touching Charlie's face.

Could Harry have thought anything else? Merlin, if Draco had been in Harry's shoes, he most likely would have felt the same.

He leapt out of the pensieve, not thinking about any more memories. He apparently had his answer. It would also explain why the bottle of wine was smashed on the floor of their rooms and the music charm had been tripped. He initially suspected Petite Amie had knocked over the bottle of wine and left the mess of clothes and knocked over books in Harry's room. That certainly explained that mystery.

Draco had wasted days worrying about the most life threatening scenarios – Harry losing his magic and lying in a gutter somewhere; Harry being tortured by Weasley and a band of free Neo Death Eaters; Harry having Apparated and splinched himself – unable to get home; Harry just lying... dead. His emotions had run the full gamut, but now he knew Harry's fate was in his own control. He just refused to take it lying down.

Overwhelmed with confusion about Harry's reluctance to discuss his concerns, his guilt for not being more attentive and his vile anger at Oliver Wood, he stalked from the Pensieve and tried to think of a way to get to Harry – to talk to him. His own gut was churning and he barely noticed his limp was becoming more pronounced.

This was all a misunderstanding. Surely once he told Harry the truth, he would come back. That's if this isn't just the journal curse starting already. Perhaps it really is true. We're apart at the moment, and if Harry gets angry, his magic could get out of control, and who knows what might happen. He could hurt himself, or he could endanger others...

Even now he was worried more for Harry than himself. Just why he never had that sort of concern when it mattered most would haunt Draco to the rest of his days.

---

VIII. All that you scheme...

The longer the revelation took to sink in, the more sense it made to Draco. Even so, his emotions were all over the place, and he found that his first reaction was anger – anger towards Harry. Why the fuck didn't he trust me? Does he expect to own me and stop me from having any friends – is that it? Draco knew what he was thinking made no sense, but that overwhelming anger wouldn't go away. He was so tired – he hadn't rested properly in days, and now he was no longer thinking clearly.

Despite his anger, he knew this whole mess could be fixed, and he wasn't going to give up without a fight. If only he could just get Harry's location so that he could talk to him. They had already wasted five days – days in which Harry was probably hating him more with each passing minute.

But the real mystery was why Harry had stayed tight lipped about his concerns. That was the most pressing question. He knew Harry's demeanour changed almost overnight as he became more closed off, and now Draco knew he had been right in his initial paranoia about Harry's ex lover. He'd asked every one of Harry's friends if he had spoken to them about anything, and it appeared he opened up to nobody. What sort of person keeps such feelings bottled up inside? No wonder he blew everything out of proportion. Still, it stung that his trust had been questioned so severely, and for that he truly wanted an answer from Harry.

Draco shook himself out of his thoughts, not realising he was wandering aimlessly through the castle. He managed to avoid the few students who passed by, and the few paintings that felt like a chat quickly closed their mouths when they saw the ever growing feral hunger and determined look in his eyes.

"Draco!" he heard his name called, but didn't pay any attention.

"Draco, wait up!" There it was again, but he quickly felt a hand on his shoulder. Instinctive reflexes combined with his startlement made him spin hard and he had half raised his wand before he felt Remus pushing it away. It seemed the Defence master's reflexes were just as quick as Draco's. "Hey, is everything all right Draco?" Remus' face suddenly fell. "It's not Harry..."

"No, Harry's fine... I hope." Draco let out a huge sigh. "He's not missing, Remus. He's just gone... He's left me... us..."

"Why don't you come and tell me what you have found out." Remus saw the deep despair in Draco's eyes, and convinced him to sit and share tea in his office.

Draco didn't know where to start – he was trying to come to terms with everything himself, but once he started telling what he discovered, he could barely stop babbling. Remus sat and just listened, nodding his head and warming up the teacup in Draco's hands as it kept getting cold.

"It was strange – he never once questioned me or confronted me about his suspicions, Remus. Why? Why couldn't he just voice his concerns? Why would he just run away and make himself Unplottable?"

Remus put down his cup. "The one thing you have to understand about Harry is that he's never truly learned how to properly interact with people. He had absolutely nobody to share anything with until he met Ron and Hermione, and even then he never opened up to his friends easily."

Draco nodded, seeing the sense of Remus' words. "If something was bothering him, he would always try to work it out himself rather than talk to others – it was just never in his nature. After the war, he could finally relax, and the very first time he falls in love and he sees those feelings reciprocated, it's with Oliver. Just when he finally relaxes and opens his heart, he's burned."

"Why would he doubt me? What could possibly make him think I would ever cheat on him, Remus? You don't know how much it hurts to know he doesn't even trust me that much."

"Harry never properly learned to trust, you know that, Draco. Any time he put his trust in a person, they either used him, or they died on him. He had a massive falling out with Dumbledore once, and it took him a whole year to regain that trust, all over a misunderstanding, I believe." Draco just nodded.

Remus continued. "Oliver sure did a job on Harry – he obviously hurt him more than anyone really knew, and he probably reverted to his old habits to help cope with him around. The great news is that Harry's opened up more than ever with you because of your journals, Draco, but his reflex action is still to bottle things up and then run before the pressure explodes. I guess he's forgotten that he doesn't have to run any more. I just wish he could have asked you to help with his baggage about Oliver."

Draco was silent as he realised Remus was right. He finally noticed the cold tea in his hands and put it on the table. "Yeah, I guess it's my fault he never did. I should have been less focussed on teaching and more forceful in asking if Wood's presence was bothering him. So now I'm facing the dilemma of having to find Harry and talk to him when he specifically doesn't want to be found."

"Don't apologise for your work, Draco. I admit you've been placed under a lot of pressure, but Harry understood that. You can't change the past. The real question is what do you plan to do to fix this?"

"I'll just have to keep looking. It's not too late, and I'm not planning on giving up just yet, Remus. He needs to see the truth and know I'm not going to let him run away – not without a bloody good reason."

"Good."

But first, Draco thought, I need to deal with a certain Quidditch obsessed wizard.

--oo0oo--

Dinner in the Great Hall was winding down as Draco sidled into the spare seat next to Wood.

"Hello, Ollie," Draco said with a very smooth smile. He seemed calmer and much more collected than he had in days, putting up his oldest and best charming Pureblood Malfoy mask. It could still come in handy on occasions.

"Malfoy," Wood turned and stared before smiling. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Still trying to find your errant boyfriend?"

Draco poured a glass of water and casually began to drink, seeming to pay no mind to Wood's words. "Oh, there's no need for you to feign interest in Harry's welfare - if you ever cared for it in the first place."

Wood squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, but continued to eat his pudding. "So what brings you to my end of the table?" He did not fail to notice Draco's keen gaze and how his fingers suggestively circled the rim of his glass. Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Have you, er, changed your mind about my... proposition?" he whispered quietly.

Draco let out a deep, sultry chuckle. "On the contrary," Draco replied. "I haven't changed my mind at all. I merely thought we could chat. I'm extremely interested in your exact motivations for coming to Hogwarts." Draco was subtle, and kept his tone quieter than the surrounding conversations – so as not to cause a scene.

"What on earth do you mean? I simply applied for Hooch's position..."

"Strange how you would rather be here than in a lucrative contract with Puddlemere..."

"Oh, you know, I wasn't happy with their contract negotiations..." Oliver looked a little uncomfortable.

Draco just smirked. "My sources tell me that your contract negotiations with the club were non existent. I hear they dropped you quicker than a flaming Bludger once your form dropped off. Nobody likes to go through a performance slump, do they?"

Oliver went white in the face, but gave up on his innuendo. "What exactly are you after, Malfoy?"

"That's funny – I was going to ask you the same question." Draco spoke calmly through his teeth, not dropping the congenial mask from his face. "I can tell you now that you certainly didn't come here claiming that teaching was your true vocation, and that the welfare of the younger generation was your greatest concern." Draco nudged in closer, whispering in his ear. "I know what you've been up to. Coming here for shits and giggles is one thing, Wood, but deliberately stirring up Harry is just plain cruel. We might both know Harry's weaknesses, but the difference is that I have no intention of ever exploiting them, unlike you. If your goal was to try and ruin Harry's future, it isn't going to work."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but Draco wasn't finished. "I know what you said to Harry, and I know you did it deliberately."

Wood didn't seem at all cowed by Draco's revelation. "You've got no proof I've done anything. You can't threaten me," he said snidely.

"One doesn't need proof, Oliver, when one isn't planning on any form of retribution. I am merely advising you that Harry has quite a few friends on staff who know exactly what you did to him all those months ago. Don't think anyone is going to stroke your ego, or anything else whilst you're here. I'm merely letting you know you should be more careful – constant vigilance and all that – wot?"

"You know, we could forget all this unpleasantness. What say you to a nightcap... up in my rooms?"

Draco could not believe Wood's audacity. Was he deaf as well as stupid? He obviously wouldn't know a set of morals if he tripped over them and broke his wand. He spoke in disbelief. "You really have no idea how morally wrong you are, do you, Wood? Harry had every right to kick you out on the street."

"Don't believe everything you hear, Malfoy. Harry has been known to overreact in the past, but I'm sure you're aware of that. It's more than mere coincidence that my form slump occurred right after Harry kicked me out. I'm just here to balance the scorecard."

Draco nodded, the truth was finally out, and it was as he suspected. Wood was bitter that he was dumped by Harry, and now blamed him for the slump in his Quidditch performance. Perhaps if Wood had focussed more on his game and not his bed sport, he might still be Keeper for the premiere League team.

"Just where do you get off telling Harry that you slept with me?"

"Is that what he said?"

"I know what I hear, and I know what I see inside Pensieve memories, Wood." Oliver's face lost all confidence.

"Think what you like, Wood, but there's nobody on staff who is interested in what you have to offer." Oliver turned and noticed that Charlie, Remus and even Snape were watching him very carefully. Filch was too, but he watched everyone carefully. He let out a nervous little laugh and felt quite uncomfortable as Draco's charming smile returned. He stood, patting Oliver on the shoulder as he made to walk away. "Just forget whatever little games you plan on playing with Harry, or anyone else for that matter. Just stick to Quidditch. It would be a shame to see your performance... flag... in other areas."

Oliver tried desperately to regain his composure, sipping his now tasteless pumpkin juice as he watched Draco disappear from the hall.

Malfoy's threats were pitiful, and he gave them no second thought. He had done enough to rattle Malfoy's cage and upset Harry, which was certainly enough for now. His luck had descended rapidly after Harry kicked him out, and he wanted to make sure that it wasn't as a result of a hex or a curse. Knowing Harry was with Malfoy made it all the more probable.

He only wanted to rattle Harry enough to make him recant the hex that was causing him to go through the worst form slump in his life, but he never counted on any form of further retaliation.

--oo0oo--

Draco had done some horrible things in his past, but he felt no guilt or remorse despite having just dosed Oliver Wood with a mild poison. It wasn't a fatal toxin, merely a common Muggle herb that Wizards didn't react too well to. Wood wasn't going to die, but there was enough toxin there to give him a scare. A few weeks of erectile dysfunction might just affect Wood more than anything else. It certainly wasn't permanent, but if the egotistical git didn't learn his lesson this time, Draco's hand might just slip again over his drink once again.

Draco's anger was rife. He was angry and hurt that Harry could not trust him, but taking out his anger on the cause of it all left him with a clear conscience. It was unpleasant business, but he had done worse in his time as a Death Eater, and for much less justifiable reasons. He didn't want to dwell on that unpleasantness any longer, and now he could get back to the task at hand. How was he going to locate Harry if he was Unplottable? The stronger the wizard, the harder it was to locate them, so he knew it was an enormous task. Unfortunately, it wasn't as enormous as trying to explain everything to him – that would be the real challenge.

--oo0oo--

He was still no closer to finding Harry on Saturday morning, and every day they were apart was only going to make Harry feel more bitter. There was literally no sign of Harry anywhere within the UK, and Draco was seriously considering Apparating over to the Continent. His restlessness was increasing with his inability to contact Harry, and he couldn't just sit around any longer.

What surprised him the most was Harry's friends. He was blaming himself entirely for this situation, for not taking the time and consideration to care enough for his soul mate's well-being, yet Harry's friends were extremely forgiving. Remus helped where he could – writing letters and talking to his sources – but Draco could understand his concern because the full moon was coming up, and he needed Harry back to take over his classes. Remus and the Headmaster knew most of Harry's usual hiding places, but apparently he wasn't in China. Lao Kuai wrote back to say he had not seen Harry either. That put pay to one of Draco's hopes – that Harry had fled to the place of solitude he often spoke about.

Hermione had gone spare when she learned Harry was missing, but she was already strung out enough because of her husband's unknown whereabouts. He didn't quibble or argue with her in any way about her husband, yet she always had time to research and give Draco any obscure spells or ways to try and locate Harry. He was still convinced that the cursed journals were to blame for all this, and he had a gut wrenching feeling that it was all going to end in even more tears. He didn't want to dwell on that possibility, however.

Charlie was helping as well, but with the search for his brother still on, he was just grateful for the offer of assistance. Incredible. So many people helping him look for Harry, but in his deepest thoughts, he sensed that Harry didn't want to come home, and that hurt more than anything. He found his thoughts wandering to that impish grin and those sparkling green eyes, and at that moment he thought of a future without ever seeing them again. He pushed the twisted feeling in his gut aside as he tried to focus on the dowsing stone again.

His frustration won out at the complete lack of progress he was making, and he threw the stone into the fireplace. This was useless. He needed to be out there – looking.

He had no idea where he was going to start, but a rap at the door came just as he was reaching for his coat.

"Severus! You just caught me... I have to go."

"Ah, good, you're on your way then?" The Potions master seemed pleased. "Shall we walk together?"

"What? You... you can't come. You... how did you know I was going? I only just decided I have to go and find him." Draco suddenly seemed confused.

"Where else did you think we were going? It's Slytherin's Quidditch trials – I asked you last week and you said you would come down. They're after a new Seeker and Keeper today, and apart from Potter, you're about the best qualified person on staff now to choose a Seeker. I know that you're... preoccupied, Draco, but you need to get out."

"Oh Merlin, I forgot. I can't... I've got to find him, Severus..." Draco sounded quite desperate.

"You haven't stopped looking for him all week. You should just take a bit of a break for a while." Severus looked sympathetic, and the bags under his eyes rivalled Draco's.

"I know... but if I'm out there, I've got a better chance of finding him. I just can't sit around here any longer."

Severus could see the grim determination in those pale eyes, and he realised he was talking to a stone wall. He sighed. "You told me yesterday you think he's made himself Unplottable. Where would you think to start looking for him?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but he really had no idea where to start. They had spent so much time talking, yet they never really got to the important things about their future. How could they even consider a future together if they never talked about it? Why not? I just assumed we had plenty of time to talk about such stuff... How foolish could I be? I've got absolutely no idea where he could have gone, other than China, and Dumbledore's old friend hasn't seen Harry...

"I thought I'd go to China – he's often talked about how much he loved it there..."

"Draco, you can't just go. Are you forgetting that you can't just up and leave the country without filling in three dozen Ministry forms and having mine and the Headmaster's explicit permission? Besides, China is a very large place with millions of Wizards and billions of Muggles. How do you expect to find one Unplottable wizard there?"

Draco had conveniently forgotten about the Ministry restrictions, but he was beyond caring. He shook his head. "You can't stop me, Severus."

"Very well," Severus sighed. "You're willing to give up your apprenticeship and everything? I doubt if you leave now the Ministry will look upon it lightly – they still aren't convinced that you are squeaky clean, but I think it's because they haven't located young Weasley. It was a condition of your apprenticeship that you remain here unless accompanied by myself, or the Headmaster."

"DAMN THE CONSEQUENCES, SEVERUS!" he shouted, but quickly reigned himself in. "I'm beyond caring right now. I just have to get to Harry and explain everything."

The silence dragged on as Severus searched for... something in Draco's face. "Is Potter really worth that much to you?"

"Yes... He's everything."

Severus nodded. "I can't work out who is more stubborn – you or him. Very well. If you wait a day, I can write the necessary letters and you can leave British soil with my permission. At least let me do that much for you."

Draco nodded, granting him that much. "I just... I want to find him – now. This not knowing is driving me insane. I don't suppose you have any idea where he might go whilst being Unplottable? Remus has ruled out quite a few of his old haunts."

"You're asking me?" Severus scoffed. "Undoubtedly Potter thinks his pride has been wounded. Like most lions, he's off licking his wounds. He'll be harder in his resolve, and not so easily led – or misled. Are you up to facing that?"

"What choice do I have?"

--oo0oo--

Draco knew he was tired and overwrought, but Severus was right. Had he just left without thinking, he would have a hell of a time getting back to Hogwarts, especially if he came back without Harry. He didn't need any more complications in his life.

The Quidditch trials were a good diversion. He normally would have avoided the pitch, but he had made a promise to Severus for the sake of Slytherin, and as a 'Professor', he needed to become more involved with the house activities. "You love Quidditch so much, Draco. Don't let the war and your knee rule every aspect of your life." Severus had been right. It felt good to be near the pitch – the familiar smells and sights, but he tried not to think of picking up a broom. He wasn't ready for that... yet. He was grateful not to have to walk all the way up to the top of the stands, merely taking a seat on the bench at ground level.

Fortunately Wood was too indisposed to be available for the trials. What sort of Quidditch teacher is he anyway if he's not available for house trials? Draco didn't want to waste good brain cells thinking about Wood any more.

Nearly all of Slytherin were out in force. Team pride was high, and there were dozens looking for the opportunity to join the team. At the thought of a new Seeker, he momentarily remembered Damien Michaels. A distinct chill ran down his back. If only things had been different. A half brother... He shook the thoughts away and concentrated on the hopefuls for the vacant position.

"Maggie?" he said aloud, to nobody in particular, but he was completely surprised to see the petite girl standing there in oversized robes and a borrowed Nimbus 2001 broom. What's she doing here? She's so small – will she be able to handle that broom? We haven't seen a first year since Harry was on the Gryffindor team. And her curse... Draco had so many worries, and he was reluctant to let her have a go.

She could see the doubt in his eyes, but her own determined glare made him realise that she was not planning on giving up. Surely he couldn't begrudge her a tryout? Everyone else in the team seemed keen to let her try, particularly when they realised she wanted to be a Seeker.

In all, Maggie seemed to be the star of the whole afternoon. She was a natural on a broom – so fast and light. She out manoeuvred every other player and eyed the snitch easily, her small hand coming up to snatch it out of the hands of a fifth year. Her moves seemed familiar. I've only ever seen one other person fly like that... but, no. Everyone probably does it now – not like I've been following the game for these past couple of years, is it?

"She flies like Potter," Severus said. "She's about as small as he was when he was in his first year. No wonder Minerva put him on the Gryffindor team. I think it's high time I had a talk to Albus. If Minerva can bend the rules to manipulate the Gryffindor team to her advantage, we can do the same."

"I doubt McGonagall will be getting the Quidditch cup back in her office any time soon," Draco gave a genuine smile. Nobody doubted Maggie was the right choice for Seeker, and her smile beamed from ear to ear when Severus, Draco and the team captain confirmed it.

Draco could do no more this day to look for Harry – he would have to wait until Severus' letters were received by the Ministry. He could either go back to his rooms and wallow and try to find some way to locate Harry, but he realised he was bone tired. Bone tired and in need of decent coffee. He should have thought to visit Emmaline sooner. She always seemed to know the right answers, even if he didn't quite know what question to ask .

"Um, Draco?" A small voice pulled him out of his reverie as he headed out of the stadium.

"Maggie, congratulations!" he smiled, but her face suddenly turned quite grave. "What's wrong."

"I was wondering if my curse would affect my ability to play?" She chewed her bottom lip in concern. "What if there is a game on the day after the full moon?"

"I wouldn't worry, Maggie. I'm sure that Professor Snape has taken that into consideration. He's already gone up to see Professor McGonagall and the others to announce our team so that the schedule can be set. You'll be fine. Better than fine, actually. You did so well."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Her smile was back. How he wished to be eleven again with so few cares in the world. Still, Maggie had more cares than most her age, yet she still maintained that childish innocence. "I guess I have Professor Potter to thank."

Draco's head whipped around. "Pardon?"

"Professor Potter... Harry..." she whispered. "He was the one helping me. He's been with me most afternoons training me up. He wanted desperately for me to get on this team. He really believed I could do it... and I did!"

"Harry was helping you?" Draco was speechless. "You were practicing down here on the pitch?"

Maggie nodded. "Nearly every afternoon," she offered. "He even let me ride his broom. It was so fast. But I only got to use this broom out of the shed today. It's great and all, but it's nowhere near as fast as Harry's. Still, it's just right for me and the guys said I could keep it now that I'm on the team. It's still better than most of the Ravenclaws' and Hufflepuff's brooms too!"

Draco just blinked. Harry had been down here helping Maggie. He hadn't been down in the sheds doing anything nefarious. He opened his mouth to speak, but oddly enough he focussed on the broom she was holding. He remembered it well – it was his own old broom that had ended up in the pile of school brooms. He recognised it by the extra gilt bands that ran around the handle – a mark put there by Lucius. Somehow that seemed somewhat fitting. How, he couldn't really say, but she was now the Slytherin Seeker, and his old broom played a part in getting her onto the team.

"But oh!" she put her hand over her mouth. "Harry told me not to tell you. He said it was supposed to be a surprise for you!"

"It was?" he asked, still stunned that he was so misled by Harry's actions.

"Yeah, he said something about proving he could help Slytherin. Do you know what he's talking about?"

Draco suddenly realised. Harry was trying to apologise for his remarks about Maggies sorting. The puzzle pieces were finally coming together. "Yes Maggie, I think I do."

"Do you know where he is? We've missed him all week." She sounded upset. Draco would have given anything to be able to give her an answer.

"I don't know, Maggie." His voice choked in his throat. "I don't know when he'll be back, but I'm hopefully going to see him tomorrow." Draco had to believe it.

"Good. I miss him, you know. I had hoped he would be here today."

"Yeah, me too." Draco was still reeling from what Maggie told him. By this time they had reached the gates, and he was ready to go into Hogsmeade. "Now, you should head back to the common room. I bet there are a few people who want to congratulate you. We're all very proud – you've done your family proud."

"Do you have any family, Draco?" Maggie asked quietly, wondering if she had overstepped her boundaries, but Draco stood quietly for a moment as he thought about his parents... and Harry.

"My parent's aren't alive any more," he said with mixed feelings, "but I have some very close friends who keep wanting to act like my parents." He immediately thought of Severus and Emmaline. In their own way, they had acted as parents, friends, confidants.

"Do you think that friends could become family? I mean I don't have any living relatives, but when I'm with some people, I feel the same way I remember feeling around my parents. It's even harder when they aren't here and I miss them." Draco was surprised by the maturity of the words coming out of her mouth. They were so simplistic, yet the expressed everything he wanted to say.

"When you don't have any family, you have to rely on your friends anyway, Maggie." And lovers, he added, guilt building about Harry. "Good friends will always be there for you anyway, you should remember that."

"Archibald Hebblethwaite in third year is always whinging and complaining about his family. He says he loves coming to school to get away from them. I think that your family isn't who you're born with – it's the people you are going to miss the most."

Maggie's words were the most profound thing he had ever heard, and he closed his eyes, knowing more than anything that she was absolutely right. Still too stunned by this, he just nodded in agreement. It should have been no surprise, then to find that she gave him a great big hug. "Like I said before, I miss Harry so much. I... I think I'd be upset too, if you were not here." She added the last as an afterthought, but Draco just smiled.

Who was this child, and why did she say exactly what Draco needed to hear at that moment?

His instinct was to say something, but knew that anything else he said would be trite in comparison. What caused her to have such a mature outlook on life? Returning the hug in a fatherly fashion, he pondered her words and knew that she was more right than even she knew. Harry was his family, his life and his future.

--oo0oo--

Draco was so completely distracted by Maggie's astute philosophy, he barely realised he had Apparated directly into Emmaline's cosy living room just above the store rather than the store itself. He quickly found himself wrapped in another warming hug as he apologised profusely for the rude interruption. Apparating into someone's house was the height of bad manners, but Emmaline didn't seem to care.

"What is this, môn chéri? You look dreadful! What does 'Arry have to say about this?" Emmaline cast a critical eye over Draco's appearance, but she knew much more was wrong as Draco blanched at the mention of Harry's name. Her mood became less jovial and more serious.

"Emmaline... I... He... We..." This was harder than he thought as a huge lump rose in his chest. How could he tell Emmaline? He sat heavily on the chair, lost for words.

"Why don't you start at the beginning whilst I get you something to eat?" Emmaline lay a comforting hand on his shoulder and he opened his mouth. Expecting nothing to come out, he was surprised to find that he was telling her the whole story – everything from his own neglectful stupidity, the arrival of Oliver, their silly arguments and the rift that was slowly widening between them.

"It all seems so petty now – work - that is. I was so focussed on that, I was so tired and I think Harry wasn't willing to talk to me. I should have been there to listen to him. I shouldn't have been making up my own crazy suspicions. All the while he was questioning my fidelity because he overheard half conversations." He took a deep breath when he finally finished, realising Emmaline had not interrupted him or led him to talk about anything in particular. "Of course," he continued, "I was dreading this happening, of course, but what else could it be but the curse?"

"What curse?" she asked.

"Oh," Draco waved his hand around. "The curse on the Journal Intime Partagé. They might have brought us together, but it seems everyone it connects is doomed to a miserable life either dead or apart from their soul mate."

Emmaline blinked and looked confused. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Draco explained everything he had realised about the journals and how the death of Lily and James, and the separation of Sirius and Remus was just too coincidental to not think that there was a curse on the journals. He was so convinced of this curse, he almost had Emmaline believing it.

"No, Draco, that's not at all possible. There is no curse on your journals," Emmaline said in reassurance.

"How can you be so sure? I..."

Emmaline held a finger to his lips, stopping his protests. "I have known of these journals nearly all my life, Draco. I have seen their effect on those who they connect with, and I can safely say that there is no such curse as you describe. James and Lily Potter were, unfortunately, the victims of prophecy and a maniacal madman. It was just a tragic coincidence that Sirius Black and Remus were dragged into the events surrounding that. That's the true tragedy here. No, there's no curse between you and 'Arry." Her words sounded so reassuring, Draco found himself finding that he believed her. He so desperately wanted to.

"Then why has everything gone wrong between myself and Harry? I don't want it to be this way, Emmaline. I'm a wreck when he's not around... I want to fix this, but I can't even find Harry to talk to him. I'm fairly certain he's not interested in listening anyway. He questioned my fidelity, so he won't believe anything I have to say. I'm not afraid of what he'll do to me, or what he thinks of me – I'm afraid for him, and I want to be there for him in any way he wants me. I can see that now."

"I think that with all the stress you've both been under – your work, his work, then 'Arry's old lover showing up and trying to put a wedge between you. Perhaps you've just forgotten how to talk. Did you keep writing to each other in the journals over the summer?" she asked.

"No, we didn't," Draco said with a raised eyebrow. "We spent a lot of time retracing what we wrote and discovering so many things..."

"So what did you do when you ran out of things to talk about?" Emmaline's eyes sparkled as she saw realisation on Draco's face.

"Are you suggesting that we should continued to write in the journals?"

"What harm could have come from that? You told me that you found it so much easier to tell things to 'Flash' when you wrote them down. Why would you think that would suddenly change?"

Draco's mouth hung opened as he came to the realisation of her words. "We didn't feel the need considering we were able to talk to each other..."

"But you didn't," Emmaline poked Draco in the chest with her finger to emphasise her point.

Draco just blinked and nodded his head for the longest time. The wheels of thought were churning through his head, and as he ran a hand through his unwashed hair, he laughed cynically.

"You know, if I hadn't thought there was a curse, and voiced my concerns to Remus, then this might have been avoided. But it's still not going to help me," he exhaled deeply. "Harry's Unplottable, and I highly doubt he took his journal with him. The last thing he probably wanted to do was talk to me. Anyway, he wasn't planning on being away more than a couple of days. He wouldn't have packed the journal."

"How do you know?" Emmaline asked cryptically.

"I thought about it earlier – when I was trying to locate Harry, but he never mentioned he was taking it."

"Have you seen his journal lying around?" she asked.

"No, but I haven't been into his rooms..."

"You won't find it there. It's with 'Arry," Emmaline said as she sat back, a smug smile on her face.

Draco looked at her with an accusatory stare. "How can you be so certain?"

Emmaline tried to avoid his gaze. She seemed to be in some sort of internal conflict, but she eventually nodded her head. "Draco, as I said before, I have been around those journals for a large part of my life. I may not have been entirely honest with you all along, but I have my reasons for that. Trust me when I tell you that 'Arry's journal is with him. It won't let him go far before it will follow him. It's part of the book's inherent magic. You won't be rid of them so easily."

"So you're saying Harry has his journal?" Draco was hopeful for the first time in days.

"There's only one way for you to find out, isn't there?"

Draco stood, knowing now what he had to do. He turned to look at Emmaline. "I... thank you, Emmaline. I don't know why I didn't come down here and talk to you sooner."

"You had to come to the realisation eventually, Draco. You would not have believed what I had to say until you were ready anyway."

The old witch was so damn infuriating yet so wise. No doubt she was hiding so many secrets, she would need her own secret keeper. "Just who are you... really?" he asked curiously.

She nodded sagely, smiling with a knowing grin. "Just go and find your 'Arry, and perhaps then I'll tell you, môn chéri."

--oo0oo--

Draco Apparated back to the school gates and wondered why everything seemed so still and quiet. Looking up at the clock tower, he noted that it was now past student curfew. He had been with Emmaline all evening. It was a week, now. A whole week without Harry, and that thought spurred his steps back to his room. The journals. Everything revolves around them. If I never laid eyes on it... If Harry never picked it up from Sirius' things... He was beginning to realise those journals were more important than either of them thought possible.

He found his journal lying under a huge pile of scrolls on his desk. He felt a little bad that he had left the book for so long – long enough for dust to collect on the front cover. He was about to open the front cover, when he paused, quickly looking up. He hesitated, not sure if he should, but he eventually walked over and opened the door to Harry's room. At least the door is still there. That's something.

Stepping into those rooms gave Draco a sense of Harry that almost overwhelmed him. The neatness. The orderly clutter of Muggle books and DVD's on the shelves, the montage of photos adorning the mantle of the fireplace and the spaces on the side tables. He couldn't look at those photos – all he would see is a frowning Harry who would try to look away.

"Accio Harry's journal," he whispered almost under his breath. Nothing happened. He walked over to the disorderly stack of papers scattered on Harry's desk. "Accio Harry's journal," he said again, still with no response.

The book was nowhere to be found in the room, and that gave Draco that spark of hope he had been looking for. He raced back out to his own desk. He took it with him... that can only mean he's been hoping I would contact him...

Buoyed by the thread of hope, Draco opened his journal to the first blank page. He looked over their last aborted entry and realised it was way back on Lammas. They had not written anything since then. It all seemed so long ago, and the guilt of that was overwhelming.

He wondered just what he wanted to say – he knew he couldn't lie, and he couldn't erase anything he wrote, so he wanted to say it perfectly...

And within moments of putting quill to page, the words just formed and flowed from his emotions. He realised now that he didn't need to think – he just had to feel, and the words would come. It suddenly became perfectly clear. All these months – the words got in the way of their feelings. Both of them admitted they were crap at saying what they really meant, yet neither seemed to have any trouble opening up to their journal confidant.

For the first time in ages he felt compelled to say exactly how he was feeling – guilt and all.

He just hoped against hope that Harry would read it, and believe. The alternative – well, it just didn't bear contemplation.

---

IX. All this you can leave behind...

Across the other side of the planet, Harry woke, but not from a drunken stupor. This time it was his bladder and not nightmares that roused him awake. There was no real bathroom in this isolated ramshackle hut, so Harry just relieved himself out the window. He could see a sliver of dawn through the window and he tried to think of how many days it had now been. He had lost count, and was now only counting how many empty alcohol bottles were strewn around the rooms.

He knew there was no more – he'd savoured the dregs of the last bottle the night before. He sighed deeply, knowing that he was either going to have to make the effort to buy some more, or just lie here in more abject sober misery. The choice was too difficult, and he didn't want to have to think. The responsibility was just too great. If he started to think, his thoughts would invariably turn back to the one topic he had already exhausted.

He cursed as he tucked himself away and returned to the bed. Convincing himself not to think about Draco was the wrong thing to do. Now it was all he could think about. I really should find something more productive to do. Something new. Shit, I'm not awake yet. Perhaps I should go back to sleep.

Satisfied with his decision, he closed his eyes and lay back on the pillows. A strange rattling sound came from the opposite end of the room. He was used to strange sounds. Part of making himself Unplottable was the constant stream of enquiries in the fireplace and the sound of owls confused that he couldn't be found. The problem with this sound was that it was coming from within the room.

He thought he might be imagining it, but putting on his glasses, he confirmed that his bag was indeed leaping about. That's strange. I emptied it. Staggering over, he found a zippered compartment on the side of the bag that appeared to be bursting at the seams. Still too sleepy to employ any form of vigilance, Harry opened the side of his bag, only to find something large and heavy spring out into his arms.

It too a couple of minutes to realise what it was. The journal. His fucking journal. How did that... never mind. I know I certainly didn't call for it when I pulled my extra stuff into the bag. I only cast a spell for my necessities.

He carried it over closer to the mantle so he could see more clearly. Yes, it was his journal, and it began to wriggle and squirm again. Harry was about to open it, when it flew open, pages fanning out furiously until they came to a stop at copious pages of green text. He went to touch it as he realised Draco was writing, but something made him pause just before he put his hand on the parchment.

"They are cursed, Remus. Something tragic is going to happen, and I don't know what to do."

The memories flooded through him as he relived every one of Draco's betrayals. He knew at that moment the truth of them. The curse had left him the fool who fell in love with a consummate actor – there was no other way to describe Draco. Of course he was acting with you, Harry you git. He was a bloody Death Eater spy – of course he had to be believable. Now he's been playing around behind your back. Don't fall for it a second time.

He can feel the magic of the journal coercing him to read, and for the first time in days he has perfect clarity. The journal brought him to this point. The cursed journal. Surely you can't believe what Draco is writing – he's the most accomplished liar you know. Just be done with it.

Just be done with it.

It made perfect sense. It would solve all his problems and allow him to get over this and get on with his life. Why didn't he think of this earlier?

Before he could feel the journal coercing him any further, he tossed it aside aimlessly, not caring that it landed directly on the burning embers in the fireplace. Fanned by the new fuel, the flames suddenly burst to life as the book ignited and was quickly engulfed.

The sight was mesmerising, and he found he couldn't look away. So he waited...

...Waited and watched until he could see no more through the blur of tears.

---

--To be concluded in Chapter 20: Wish You Were Here --

---

Review Thank You's: So many people to thank. Apologies again for the long wait. Please remember that writing is a hobby, and fanfiction doesn't pay the bills. Real life does have to come first, as much as we wish it didn't. We appreciate your patience. Thank you to the following people for leaving a review:

..., All-knowing Alien, Angel-Wings6, AquilusRosae, ashmoon, Bean, beserkergoddess, Bezzie, Bongo MonkeysXP, C.F.Evangel, ceriaroman, CompleteGeek, Damien Malfoy, DarkWingedTenshi, Death Kitty, DemonRogue, Diamond Angel, Dnic5, Dr. Colleen, Dreaming-Sensations, DuSantiago, Dyslexic Angel, essence malfoy, fading-hologram, Faery Goddyss, Faith Maguire , Feather Moon, fifespice, Fiona, FlamencoPenguin, HalandLeg4ever, HD4Aubrey, ILLK, It'sJustMe, JadeKipping, Jane Gray , Jess , Kaaera , kappak , katsuyakaibaobsessed, KAWAIIwolf-luvr , Lelimo, Lily Evans Potter Black Lup..., Lin0a , Ludra, Lux et Veritas, Magick, Me, Menecarkawan, Michelle , Morivanim, Nanashi Tsurunaji, Omnimalevolent, PaDfOoT Da GrEaT, Pete , possible-chobit, Rayne-Jelly, Rhiwan, Rizka, Ruby Love, saheel, Sandalino Silvio Leif, Sarah , Senoritatito, Serenity Miral, Shena , Sheyda, Shinosu, Shoujo Kitsune, SilverDragon1610, Skylar Goth, SporkadelicAsh, suckers love, sugarpixie02, TatsuKitty, tearlesereph, The Chaotic Ones, TheVender, Trista Louise, truthxinxshadow, ura-hd, vytiri, Wannaseemymoon, Xanadrine, Xandria Nirvana, Yuen-chan.

But to answer a few specific questions...

Dr. Colleen... Patience, child... good things come to those who wait! Sorry to hear about the boyfriend. Hope this isn't too hard to read... Have another glass of fine wine as you enjoy this. As long as it's not a Merlot, everything will be just fine. The boys recommend a fine Cab Sav...
Damien Malfoy - Thanks for your kind words, they are a sure incentive to keep writing.
All-Knowing Alien - You'll have to wait until next chapter to find out Ron's fate...sorry...
Sheyda - Yes, you were right, Jean-Paul is the man for Remus...
truthxinxshadow - Thanks for your kind review. Yeah, we really wish that the journals existed, but in the next chapter you'll find out exactly how/who created them and their intended purpose...
Nanashi Tsurunaji - You don't sound at all like a deranged teapot on meth... lol... We like long involved novels with lots of plot and backstory as well so we have obviously shown that influence here. Yes, it does take a while to get through this story (you try having to go back and remember what you wrote in your own story... I have a much greater appreciation now for the fact that JKR can forget little things... it's hard, and if you go back and reread the entire thing just before a new chapter, it would be years before the next chapter goes out!)
DuSantiago - glad we could offer you a nice birthday present! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.
Faery Goddyss - Thanks for letting us know about the editing error. Things sometimes go screwy in the upload, and we often catch things after posting that didn't seem to be there in the 3,000 times it was read before posting!
TheVender - Yes, the boys have finally come together, but unfortunately, there's a little bit of baggage there that needs to be dealt with, and circumstances haven't been the best in this chapter, but they had one more lesson to learn... Draco's realised what needed to be done, but now he has to convice Harry... gulp!
Xandria Nirvana - hope you don't get into too much trouble reading this whilst babysitting...
Essence Malfoy - yes, this is an emotional rollercoaster, and we hope you aren't too seasick from this chapter of angst and more angst...
Kaaera - We never really said what Emmaline has been up to, just that she knows more about these journals than she's ever let on. She let a little bit slip in this chapter, but you're going to find everything out in the next chapter...

Cheers, and thanks again for reading!
Azhure & Wintermoon