Disclaimer: I do not own any characters created by J.K. Rowling.

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long! There is an explanation, but I can only link it in here.

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Chapter Forty-Two

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~July~

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Harry turned fifteen years old with a panic attack and blindly casting his patronus at 5 o'clock in the morning. It sent Remus and Sirius barging into his room, sleep rumpled and shirtless, breathless and vainly attempting to calm him down. In the end, Remus had hurried to the medicine cabinet and grabbed a vial of a calming draught. Once he'd drunken it, Harry slumped heavily onto his pillows, his grey t-shirt soaked in sweat, his black hair plastered to his pale skin. Perched on the end of his bed, watching through rough, bleary eyes, Sirius sighed heavily.

"I think I should stay the rest of the night with him," he intoned.

Remus looked down at his companion, his tattooed hand gently kneading Harry's shin through the sheets. Covering the inked knuckles with his own scarred hand, Remus held Sirius close to his chest and stroked soothing circles into his back. "Are you sure? It's your turn to teach this week."

"I know," he nodded, leaning into the werewolf's touch. "I'll take a pepper-up, I'll be fine."

Remus squeezed his hand but thought it best not to press the issue. One sleepless night -well, morning -wasn't going to harm him. Pressing a lingering kiss to Sirius' forehead, Remus leaned their heads together and took deep, calming breaths into his lungs, flooding his senses with Sirius' familiar scent.

His ear twitched.

"Draco's awake," he observed quietly, not moving from his position.

"Do you want to go and reassure him?"

'Not really,' Remus wanted to say, though he refused to voice his sarcasm so early in the morning. He just wanted to drag his exhausted body back to the cool sheets down the hall. However, the pungent tang of fear was starting to permeate the air, cloying at the back of his throat. He knew he'd lost the battle. With a grunt, he rose to his feet and forced himself to walk out of the bedroom and down the landing towards Draco's bedroom. He could hear the blonde's erratic heartbeat through the walls.

Raising a hand, he knocked three times before entering.

"Draco, are you okay?"

For a moment, the air was thick and still as though Draco was contemplating pretending to be asleep. However, he let out a soft sigh and shifted up onto his pillows. "I'm guessing Harry has aged again," he whispered.

"It would appear so. Did his screams wake you?"

"Yes," Draco hedged. "Is he … okay?"

Remus chewed his lips, "He will be. Sirius is going to spend the rest of the night with him."

Draco nodded mutely.

After a few moments, Remus felt as though he was hovering. "Okay well … I just wanted to let you know that he's okay. Try and get some rest."

"Sure thing. You should too."

Momentarily thrown by the blonde's casual concern, Remus nodded through the gloom, uttered a quick 'goodnight' before retreating. The door closed behind him with a soft 'click'. Down the hallway, in his own room, Remus slid back inside the lukewarm bedsheets and sighed heavily. He twisted the blankets between his hands, his knuckles turning white with the strain on his nerves. Harry was turning fifteen and Remus felt selfish for worrying about reliving one of the worst years of his life, through Harry's eyes. Not to mention, he would have to face the horrors of watching Sirius die right in front of him … again.

He felt sick to his stomach.

Turning onto his side, he watched as dawn slowly broke through the tall, latticed windows. He would hear Sirius murmuring gently to Harry, trying to calm the teenager as he whimpered about Dementors and Dudley and something about a fig? He tried to block out Harry's feverish ramblings, and instead focused on the cadences of Sirius' voice, the smooth, lyrical quality still present even after years of abuse and Azkaban.

Somehow, he managed to get a good three hours sleep before his alarm went off on his wand, alerting him to officially start his day.

~0~

"Flipendo!"

"Again."

"Flipendo!"

"Good. Again."

"Expelliarmus!"

"Again."

"Rictumsempra!"

"Again."

"Levicorpus!"

"Good! Now, finish up!"

"Diffindo! Reducto!"

The practice dummy exploded into a cloud of fine dust across the wooden floor. Harry panted as he wiped a sleeve across his face and tried to relax the tension in his shoulders. This had quickly become their routine over the first week of July. Whenever Harry would wake up agitated with the rush of new memories, instead of taking out his aggression and anger out on other people in the house -especially as he reasoned that it was all Dumbledore's doing -he went to the third floor dining room and asked Sirius or Remus to set up the practice DEATH EATER. It was very similar to the one they'd used in DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY and, despite the nostalgia attached to it, Harry felt far from being able to teach and impart wisdom on anyone else. All he felt was pure, white-hot anger.

Today he hadn't been alone. Around breakfast time a rather foul mood had befallen him, but he hadn't wanted to practice by himself. It was Remus' week teaching, which left him in the capable hands of Sirius, who always took Defensive Against the Dark Arts with a lot less gravitas than it warranted, especially in regard to training a future auror. On the way up to the third floor, Harry had side-stepped into Draco's room and asked if he wanted to practice with him.

"Okay, Draco, you're up!" Sirius grinned.

"I can do more," Harry grunted, still thrumming with adrenaline.

"You also need to breathe, Harry. Besides, you've been at it for fifteen minutes straight."

Draco rolled his eyes, "I'm hardly bored. It's imperative to watch your opponents for any signs of weakness."

Sirius smirked, "Oh, so a duel then? Good, on your feet!"

"What?" Harry balked. "He's been sitting on his arse for fifteen minutes! He had as advantage!"

Draco rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and tutted, "When you're duelling against me, Harry, I always have the advantage over you."

Harry was quiet for a few beats and it took Draco too long to realise those green eyes were trained on his tattoo. Shaking his head, Harry refocused on him, "Is that so? Not the way I remember our second year."

"Lockhart was a dunce!" the blonde snapped. "It was a wonder you didn't return to your Aunt's house inside a shoe."

Harry snorted, cuffed his forehead again and then brandished his wand. Sirius nodded at both boys before walking them through the etiquette, even though Harry's breathing was still a little laboured. Draco bowed so elegantly that Harry nearly lost his footing just peering up at his over his glasses. His palm was sweaty as they walked to opposite ends of the room and turned to face one another. Sirius stood off to the side, hands behind his back as he watched with shrewd, steel grey eyes.

"On the count of three!" he barked. "One … Two … Three!"

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They duelled for at least forty minutes before Harry staggered back onto his arse and failed to grasp his wand in time. Sirius was the one who yelled 'Protego!', effectively blocking Draco's hex. Once he helped his godson to his feet, Sirius gave his hair a ruffle before turning to clap Draco on the shoulder.

"Good job, boys, I think that's enough for today. I'm exhausted just watching you both," he beamed proudly. "Now, why don't you grab a drink downstairs and I'll see if Teddy's awake from his nap yet."

Harry watched with a downturned expression as his godfather sauntered out of the room. He was wearing his old velveteen jacket today, despite the oppressive humidity outside. The sky was dark and heavy, promising a rain that never came. The air was sticky and suffocating and was probably -hopefully -the cause of Harry's regular headaches and miserable moods. Suddenly remembering that Draco was on the room, he felt himself flush and grimaced. He was already hot and sticky, there was no need to make things worse!

Toying with his wand, he glanced over at the blonde, "Did you ever really like working for Umbridge?"

"Sorry, what?"

"For Umbridge. Her little squad. Did you like doing all the work, snooping around with Filch?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, trying to detect whether Harry was purposefully goading him, or was genuinely curious. It was getting harder to tell these days. Deciding to take the high road, Draco sheathed his wand in his holster and combed his fingers through his blonde fringe. "To be honest, I just wanted it for my father's approval," he let out a bitter little laugh. "To be in a select group of that then-Headmistress of the school was even better than being Head Boy."

Harry felt his lip twitch up at the corner as he looked up at the blonde. "So … no?"

"Of course, I didn't enjoy it!" Draco rolled his eyes. "We patrolled twice as much as we should have been, were never able to catch you and your lot, and Filch is hardly stella company now, is he?"

Harry sat down with his back against one of the walls. It had a deep crack in it, from a hex that had rebounded rather violently. The floorboards creaked as Harry stretched his legs out in front of him. "You know, I feel -felt, I guess -isolated. I keep getting dreams of chasing Dumbledore through the castle, calling his name but … he never stops to talk to me, doesn't even look at me. It's like I've done something wrong, and I don't know what it is."

Draco frowned. It was true that Dumbledore had been rather absent during their fifth year, which presumably is what helped to make it so easy for Umbridge to take-over. On the other hand, even Draco had noticed that what Harry said was true; he had rarely seen the two of them together, which was the polar-opposite of how it was the following year. Still, whether they were talking or not, Harry had followed Dumbledore no matter what. The thought made his stomach churn.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Why did Sirius never get a trial?"

The blonde snorted drily as he made his way over to the wall. He nudged Harry's leg with his shoe before easing himself down to sit cross-legged. Everything he did was so goddamn graceful! "I'm the wrong person to ask, Harry."

"Even you and your family got a trial."

Draco clenched his jaw, ignoring the jibe. "What can I say? Fudge was useless as the Minister."

"Was? What happened to him?"

"He was asked to step down from the position. He refused to acknowledge that You-Know-Who was back and thus had screwed us all over."

"Voldemort."

Draco flinched, immediately burning with humiliation at doing so. "Don't say his name," he hissed tightly.

"It's just a name, Draco," Harry hummed softly. The weight of his eyes were almost suffocating as they burned into the blonde's skull. Sighing, Harry reached over and took Draco's hand in his own and gave a gentle squeeze. He didn't lace their fingers together, even though he thought it would be more comfortable. "You don't have to say it, but you don't have to fear it either. He's not coming back ever again."

"I've heard that before."

"This time it's true."

"How can you know?"

"Well, if he didn't then how the hell am I still here? Or you for that matter?"

Draco huffed a laugh. At least he didn't pull his hand away.

"Besides," Harry continued, forcing a little more levity in his voice. "If we're going to call that slimy git anything, it should be with his actual name, which was Tom Riddle."

"I heard some people calling him Riddle, a long time ago. Tom, though? How uncouth."

Harry nudged their shoulders together, smiling wider. "Oh, it gets better. His dad had the same name. He's actually Tom Riddle junior!"

"What?!" Draco let out a surprising laugh. "Fucking hell, no wonder he had such a complex about renaming himself as the Dark Lord. Imagine if I'd have been Lucius junior?"

"Or if I'd been James junior."

They both shuddered, grinning widely at each other.

Draco squeezed his hand, "Thank you for making me laugh. That could have … turned into something."

An episode.

"Oh … that's okay," Harry bit his lip. He wanted to let Draco know that he wasn't alone, that he had nightmares too and it was a natural part of coming into contact -direct or otherwise -with Voldemort. Instead, what came out of his mouth was, "I have something to show you, if you're not too tired."

Draco rolled his head so that he could properly look down at Harry. Even with his squared jawline, his shorter haircut and having grown into his body a lot more over the last few days, there was still something hovering around him, like he would vanish inside his head for long intervals. It was worrisome.

"That depends," he said, "Do I need to move?"

"Yes."

"I don't want it."

"Draco-o-o!" Harry shoved him sideways. "You have to want it! It's your birthday present you git!"

"My birthday was last month," he replied drily, brushing dust off his sleeve.

"So, it's a little late," Harry cocked an eyebrow, "Are you seriously complaining about getting another present?"

Draco rolled his eyes but didn't object. Together they got to their feet, dusted themselves down and Harry led the way outside into the back garden. It was starting to drizzle on and off, the air still stifling like a pressure on the lungs. Draco erected an umbrella charm to keep them dry as Harry picked his way across the garden. Towards the back of the garden, near the tool shed, Draco could feel the faint hum in the air of a disillusion charm hard at work. He frowned as Harry withdrew his own wand and muttered 'finite incantatem'.

Draco's breath hitched as his eyes landed on the two large flower boxes; each of the two were divided into sections with various stasis charms hanging over them like sparkling cobwebs in blues and greens. He recognised the ones that regulated temperature and monitored the moisture and chemical levels in the soil. Glancing from one to the other, noting the familiar leaves of the plants within, he was incredibly impressed to note that one of the plant boxes was adapted for nocturnal plants, while the other thrived on the daily sunshine.

"You did all this … for me?" he asked after a few moments of stunned silence. The rain continued to fall lazily around them, his umbrella charm wavering ever so slightly.

Harry turned to look up at the blonde, his green eyes wide and earnest. "Of course! I remember how you said it was difficult getting various ingredients, especially as some are restricted and they wouldn't sell them to you, especially now after -a-after the war," Harry choked on the last few words, his chin dropping. "I just -I thought this would help. To have a garden to start growing your own ingredients. That way you don't have to rely on so many apothecaries."

Draco was too stunned for words. His eyes greedily noted all the recognisable plants; monkswood, vervain, asphodel, knotgrass, baneberry, cowbane, dittany and star grass. There were a few others, but they were barely more than little sprouts, so he could only hope that Harry remembered what they were.

Harry chewed on his lip, "Draco? Shit, is this too much? Should I have just gotten you a book on potions ingredients instead?"

"How did you get all of these?" Draco asked, still gazing down at the assortment of neatly arranged, thriving plants. "Some of these you need clearance for, or they're expensive …"

Shifting, Harry tried not to look up at the perplexed expression the blonde was currently wearing. "Well … money is hardly an issue for me all things considered … p-plus, I sort of … used my name?"

That got Draco's attention. His head whipped around so fast, Harry was surprised he didn't snap his own neck. "You used your -but you hate throwing your name around?"

Feeling heat rush up his neck, Harry shrugged a shoulder and looked down at the plant boxes. "I just thought that this would be something to help. If you wanted to do a potions mastery or … or become a healer -I don't know!"

He wanted to dash back up the garden, anything to get away from the look on Draco's face. He seemed calm -at least he looked it -but his posture was ramrod straight and his eyes were wide with a flurry of emotions swimming in them. Maybe he was too pumped up from their DADA practice earlier? Or maybe it was suddenly going outside into the rain?

Still upholding the umbrella charm, Draco used his free hand to tug Harry against his chest for a hug. Harry staggered, caught off-guard and braced himself against the blonde; his mouth ran dry at the feel of the muscles secreted beneath the unassuming shirt. From what he remembered; Draco had a great set of muscles thanks to all the Quidditch training. Maybe he was keeping himself in shape, even now, with his runs with Remus? Despite the coolness from the rain, beneath the umbrella charm Harry felt himself flush a little warmer. Why did it feel as though the palm of Draco's hand was searing his flesh through his shirt? Why were words failing him? Why did he want to lean towards the older teen, instead of running away?

He was suddenly aware that they were staring at one another, Harry cradled awkwardly against the blonde's chest, his hands pressing against the firm planes of the older boy. He eyed the left side of his chest, a silvery light flashing behind his eyelids. Was that a prefects badge? Or … some other type of pin? Taking a stumbling step back, the tickle of rain on the nape of his neck, Harry offered a sheepish grin. "I -I'm glad you like your present!" he said a little too loudly.

Draco cocked a bemused eyebrow at him, straightening himself so as to put some distance between them. "I'm very grateful, Harry. This is the best present I think I've ever gotten."

A sudden roar of thunder made both boys jump, knocking awkwardly against each other to stay under the umbrella charm.

"We'd better get inside. Neither of us wants to be sick," Draco muttered looking up at the clouds.

"Why not? You can always brew more Pepper-up."

"With this new little garden, yes, it would appear I can."

A gust of wind made Harry cry out and crowd in closer to Draco, as though the umbrella charm would protect them. "Can we go inside please?" he croaked, his hands clenching the front of Draco's shirt.

It was a muggle one so it shouldn't bother him at all, but Merlin's tits if it creased …

With a grunt, he wrapped his arm tight around Harry's shoulders and steered them both towards the backdoors, the heavy, shrieking wind trying desperately to yank Draco's wand out from his grasp. Once inside with the deadbolts fastened into place, Harry heaved a sigh of relief and raked his fingers through his unruly black hair. Draco watched his mannerisms, feeling his lip quirk at the old familiarities that were creeping to the surface. It also made his chest tighten in fear and what was still yet to come, and at the acceleration of the potion, there was no telling just how much time he had left with this version of Harry.

They hovered in the hallway for a few moments before Harry rubbed the back of his neck, "Um … do you have any potions brewing at the moment that you need help with? Or … or do you want to watch a movie or … something?"

Draco raised an amused eyebrow at the younger boy. Truthfully, he had sort of missed the novelty of watching muggle movies. He would never dare to admit it out loud, but even Harry couldn't deny that the had spent much less time cooped up indoors of late.

"I'd like that," he smiled. "But this time, I get to pick."

From the over-stuffed armchair in the corner of the room, Remus watched the steady rise and fall of Sirius' chest as the older man slept. It was the first night in a long while that the man had slid easily into sleep long before Remus had even felt tired. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that a combination of Sirius' insomnia and a rather long, rough hour and a half of letting Remus fuck him, that finally had him drifting off. He didn't mind that Sirius had talked to him lazily as his eyelids drooped and his jaw slackened until he was snoring softly against Remus' scarred chest.

From his armchair he picked idly at his lip, his focused eyes staring through the dim glow of the floating orbs as Sirius stretched out languidly and rolled over onto his back, an arm flopping over his eyes. The irony of it made Remus smile slightly. He hated that he didn't feel tired, despite it being his permanent state of being. Right now, he was thrumming even if his legs and thighs protested from the vigorous tempo he'd kept up earlier. Clothed in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, he let his mind drift over to the sleepy ramblings his lover had uttered before he'd succumbed to exhaustion.

"Shouldda married you when I had the chance, Moons. Double wedding with James and Lils …" he was interrupted by a yawn, "you'd look g-g-gorgeous in mother's emerald tiara …"

Remus snorted and cradled Sirius closer, threading his fingers through his silky black curls.

"… I keep wanting to obliviate myself … forget those twelve years … ignorance is bliss an' all tha …" he was drowned out by another yawn. He scrubbed a hand down his face and burrowed slower, looping an arm over Remus' waist. "Never forget you, Moons. My Moony …"

It had been so disarming, so utterly Sirius, that it had taken a while before his brain had caught up with the murmured statements and chilled him to the core. Remus had seen what it had done to Hermione to live with the knowledge that she obliviated her parents. He had heard tales of what Lockhart was like, still rattling around in the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo's.

Sirius wanted that done to himself?

He would be like a totally different person.

Bowing his head, he rested it on his folded arms and let out a heavy sigh, fighting off the nausea that was creeping up on him and making his nose itch. He tried to focus on the rhythmic thumping of Sirius' heart, of the still air that clung to his skin, or the metallic tang that made him was to drool and sneeze.

A chill swept over him.

Did he smell … blood?

Tensing, Remus raised his head from his arms and held his breath. His ears strained against the nocturnal humming of the house. His pulse quickened when he heard a floorboard creak. His skin was suddenly sticky with sweat. Easing himself to his feet, he trained his eyes on the slender length of his wand lying on his bedside table. With his jaw clenched he snapped his fingers and winced as the cool wood smacked into his palm.

"Sirius?" he hissed, edging over towards the bed and reaching down to shake the older man awake. He kept one amber eye trained on the door as he shook the man's shoulder, lightly at first and then more urgently when Sirius continued to snore. "Sirius wake up! I think something's wrong!"

Sirius grunted and batted his hand away, "M'sleeping!"

"Sirius!" Remus hissed a little louder. "Get UP! I smell blood!"

"Wha-?" he cracked an eye open. "Blood? Are you sure?"

"I think I know what blood smells like by now, Sirius! It's fresh, too."

Rolling haphazardly out of the bed, Sirius groped blindly for his wand and tugged a t-shirt on over his head. His eyes were barely open as he staggered towards the door, half dragging his body as he went. Remus followed; wand held aloft to shine the pearlescent light. He put a hand to Sirius' shoulder and stepped in front of him, holding a finger to his lips. Sirius nodding tightly and was barely two inches away from Remus as they climbed the stairs to the third floor.

They were halfway up when a door creaked open. Draco's flash of bright blonde hair appeared, his pale face drawn and worried. "What's going on?" he hissed.

"Draco can you stay with Teddy," Remus asked in a strained voice. "We're just checking on something."

"Is it Harry?"

"I don't know -possibly."

"Possibly?!" Sirius snapped his head around to glare up at Remus. "Is he hurt?"

Remus licked his dry lips. Looking away from Sirius' frantic gaze, he spoke calmly down to Draco, "Please made sure that Teddy is safe and settled. We'll handle whatever is going on here, okay?"

Clenching his jaw tightly, Draco nodded once before turning on his heel and heading towards the master bedroom where Teddy gurgled in his sleep, his hair flashing apple green with every exhale.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Remus squeezed Sirius' shoulder. "Harry's heartbeat is normal, maybe even a little slow, but I can smell blood. He isn't panicking and we need to take that as a good sign, okay?"

"What if someone broke in?" Sirius gnawed on his lip. "What if some Death Eater scum managed to get through the wards?"

"Sirius, you're panicking," Remus kept his tone as calm as possible, but he even he could hear the hitch of his words.

Gripping Sirius by the arm, he turned and dragged him up the last few steps with him. At the landing, Remus stopped and took a deep breath, flooding his senses with the smell of cooling wood, old beeswax and the smell of long-passed spices that still clung to the curtains. His eyes focused easily in the darkness as he cast 'nox' and reached down for Sirius' hand. He led the man towards the old dining room, the one they used for their practical spell lessons. The closer they drew the more pungent the smell became until Remus recoiled with a grunt, pressing his nose and mouth into the crook of his elbow.

"Merlin! I think he's in here!" he grunted, screwing his face up in disgust. There was so much blood beyond the door. Wand at the ready, he looked at Sirius and saw the look of grim determination on his face. "Ready?"

Sirius nodded.

Remus pressed the handle down and together they rushed inside. Snapping his fingers, Remus conjured a ball of blue flames in his palm and held it aloft, while Sirius fired off a 'Stupefy' into the centre of the room. It struck the old window seat, splintering the wood. Straightening up, both men felt their stomachs drop at the sight before them. As the blue flames flickered over the long, high walls, it glistened on the still-wet markings left to dry on the old wallpaper.

Sirius let his wand clatter to the floor at his feet, a look of pure anguish contorting his features as his eyes landed on Harry. Remus felt sick to his stomach, unable to tear his eyes away from the walls. Even just looking at Harry, in his t-shirt and boxer shorts with his hair in a wild nest, his green eyes glassy and unseeing without the shield of his glasses -it terrified him.

Sirius took Harry by the shoulders and peered into one eye and then the other. There was no discernible reaction. Even when Remus waved the flame slowly back and forth, he noted that Harry's pupils did not dilate.

"Sirius I … I think he's sleep-walking?" Remus muttered in utter disbelief.

"Sleep-waling?" he frowned, as though it was too simple an answer. "Do you know if he did that before?"

"Not to my knowledge. Ron would know more than me, though."

"Do you think it could be from the new memories?"

Remus glanced over Harry's head to see the unhealthy mantra written over and over again, the droplets of blood creating long spiderweb links between the sentences. "I would certainly hope so," he managed thickly. "We should get him back to bed and put some dittany on his hands before he wakes up."

Sirius took said hands on his own and emitted a dog-like whimper at the state of them; bloodied all the way up to the elbows, fingernails chipped and ripped off, skin peeling here and there. No wonder Remus had been about to vomit at the smell of it. Nodding, he slowly guided Harry out of the room. Both their feet catching a little as they crept out into the blackness beyond.

Remus brought up the rear, turning one last disgusted look at the room behind him. A shudder ran through him. It would be best to lock the room until he was able to purge the blood from the walls. Even then, as the two men tried to steal a quick cat-nap around dawn, the sight of that room was imprinted behind Remus' eyelids. Old dusty wallpaper, scarred floorboards and the words 'I MUST NOT TELL LIES' written from floor to ceiling in blood.

Harry's blood.

Grinding his teeth together he vowed to make Dolores Umbridge pay for what she'd done.

A/N: Please leave some lovely reviews! I hope you liked the update!

B x