Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of JK Rowling Filthy Rich Enterprises.

Thank you for your reviews! To those who have expressed concern over plot points: Yes, I admit that some of my plot points are a little fuzzy (for example, the whole Quaero Tempus potion was poorly explained, but I didn't want to go into more detail than the characters themselves knew), but this cannot be helped. Other plot points just have not reached fruition yet, but they will!

Chapter 20: Day 10, part II: Interlude to Love and War

While Harry changed into his own robes, Dumbledore scolded the two teens firmly, in the way that only he can, leaving no doubt in either of their minds that both of their actions had been reckless and foolish in the extreme. Between the two of them, they had no only risked both of their lives, but had betrayed their responsibilities to those lives that depended on them. However, now was no time to be wallowing in deserved shamed; now was time for action. By the time he was done with them, Harry's head was spinning a little with the speed of everything, while Draco was scowling, tapping his foot, and generally acting as though he's have a stroke if he wasn't dismissed immediately.

Despite the Headmaster's warning, neither Draco nor Harry was prepared for the sight that greeted them upon leaving their isolated room: every bed in the Infirmary hall bore a patient, many also loaded with distraught visiting housemates. There were a number of teachers, while the students were mostly Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw sixth and seventh years. The sounds of life and suffering hushed quickly as attention focused on the miraculous reappearance of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. While little love was lost on the former, the Boy-Who-Lived was a powerful symbol of hope, especially in the wake of such a personally relevant attack.

"Harry!"

"Harry Potter!"

Harry didn't even get a chance to see who called out before the hall erupted in cheering and applause. He flushed with embarrassment, but did his duty by smiling and waving confidently. Looking around, he saw Hermione sitting next to Ron, who was laying in the bed closest to the exit. Behind Harry, Dumbledore emerged from the room, and silence settled again. "Much to everyone's relief, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have pulled through and are with us again. I know everyone has been through a lot, and you have done admirably, but we need to be strong for the times ahead. Harry, Draco. Report to Professor Snape when you get to the dungeons."

His tone was as sobering as his words, and it compelled Draco to march down the hallway and out the door, followed awkwardly by Harry, and looking distinctly like men on a mission. Ron stared at him incomprehensibly, as though he had sprouted a second head, while Hermione's expression was calculating, revealing the intensity of her intellect as she considered this new development. All Harry could do was shrug rather pathetically – there was no look or gesture that could express any degree of the insanity from which he had just emerged. The whole Quaero Tempus affair was still so barely over, so barely resolved, that he was having difficulty shifting gears into his next mission. He hadn't been conscious during the attack, and the War was still not as real to him as his terrifying journey through alternate realms.

Evidently, Draco was not suffering from this condition, if the speed at which he moved was any indication of his concern with the present mission.

Out in the Howarts corridors, Harry called out, "Wait up! What do you intend on doing anyway?" Now that the constant excitement since waking was taking a momentary reprieve, he found himself famished and with little idea as to how he should proceed.

Draco stopped for a moment, letting Harry catch up, then they hurried towards the staircases. "I'm going to talk to a few. . . key people. If I can get them, then I can probably get all the Slytherins who do not want to fight with the Dark Lord. As for those who do, I doubt there's much we can do outside of just letting them go."

Harry was making an effort to consider the current matter in terms of military strategy, but Draco's worlds sounded so cool and rational that they could not help but be irritating. "Or we could kill them." Draco glanced at him in surprised, and they stopped at the landing just as a flight of stairs moved. "That's what Voldemort would do," Harry stressed antagonistically, but with a glint of inspiration in his expression that stayed any harsh retort.

"Yes, we could kill them," Draco conceded reluctantly, then starting down once the staircase had stilled. "Or we could hold them for ransom. Better yet, we could use them to practice Unforgivables." What was Potter getting at?

"But we won't," Harry concluded smugly, his mind a couple steps ahead of his communication and completely missing Draco's reference to an alternate world in which he had been the used as a practice target.

Draco rolled his eyes. "What's your point?"

"My point is," Harry's voice dipped suddenly very soft. "My point is, we should take the students who join his ranks and use them to our advantage. You know, plant misleading information, or find a spell to bug them."

Again, Draco stopped and turned to Harry, obviously interested in what he was saying. "Bug?"

Harry tried to explain, "It's muggled device you place on something, and it records whatever happens. Surely there's gotta be a spell that can do that."

Draco nodded. "There are, two in fact, that I know of. One is easily cast, but is also easily detectable. Any halfway decent ward would set it off. The other, of course, is the Imperius."

Draco began his descent again, and Harry couldn't tell if the Slytherin was mocking him or what. Still, he needed to get his thoughts together about the War, and Draco was the perfect wall to bounce his ideas off, for obvious reasons. So, he extemporaneously voiced his next thought, "Ugh. Sometime it's really inconvenient that we don't have a better working relationship with muggles. Some of their technology would be mighty useful in this war."

"Like a bomb," came Draco's terse response.

"Well, yeah." It had been a brilliant idea, even if it wasn't successful. The memory of Draco's death in the other realm was an unwelcome reminder to both teens of just how deadly the current situation was.

"Like it worked so well last time. I never would have made such poor decisions," Draco sneered, distancing himself from his other selves, particularly the one that had both shagged Harry Potter and gotten himself killed for nothing. "Only a fool would think the Death Eaters do not have the capacity to detect muggle technology. The Dark Lord is probably just as aware of muggle weaponry as we are, if not vastly more so. Death and destruction are still death and destruction, whether wrought by magic or science."

Unfortunately, the Slytherin was almost certainly right. After all, Tom Riddle himself was raised by muggles, and had certainly heard of nuclear weapons, rocket launchers, stealth bombers, satellite observation, and most what else constituted the Military-Industrial complex. With a sigh, Harry resigned himself to the fact that if anyone would be outsmarting Voldemort, it was unlikely to be him. "There's gotta be some way we can use the students who want to join Voldemort. We shouldn't just let them," Harry concluded rather lamely.

"How Slytherin of you to think so," Draco replied, his mind grasping simultaneously for a plan for converting Slytherins and a plan for defeating Voldemort. Though Harry Potter now featured prominently in both, his thoughts quickly became too complex and boggling to yield much insight.

"Yeah, well, I haven't lived this long on luck alone. The Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin," Harry admitted. He couldn't believe what he was about to reveal to Draco Malfoy, but he was relieved that the events of the last nine days appeared to have somewhat transformed his relationship with the blonde, and he eager to encourage the change.

"Wouldn't that have been something else," Draco commented, coming to a stop on the ground floor. He was surprised, admittedly, and might have normally lavished attention on Harry's revelation, but at the moment he was undeniably distracted by the sickening and painful emptiness in his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything solid in over a week, and he felt every inch of this fact. "Maybe we should stop by the Kitchens before we go down to the dungeons."

"That is the best idea you've had all day," Harry said earnestly, relieved that he wouldn't have to work out the whole war thing on a hollow, growling stomach. Walking through the Great Hall towards the kitchens, it was eerie without students littering the tables. Everyone had been restricted to their Houses, except for those in the Infirmary.

When they entered the kitchens, Dobby threw a fit as always. "OH! Master Harry! I's so happy you's alive!"

Harry grinned. "Yep. Pulled through again, I did."

Dobby was about to gush on, before suddenly noticing who had come in with his idol. He froze, his eyes bugging conspicuously, and his mouth tightening, sporting the queerest expression Harry had ever seen on a house-elf. Finally, he managed to bow and speak, "Master Malfoy."

"Dobby," Draco acknowledged curtly, if also somewhat warily

"Could we get some food please," Harry asked. "We haven't eaten in days, anything will do."

Dobby was distinctly relieved to return his attention to the Gryffindor. "Of course! Immediately!"

The house-elf scurried off, leaving Draco and Harry to sit tensely at the table. Silence grew awkward quickly, Draco making a point of looking anywhere but at Harry, and Harry inexplicably unable to look anywhere other than at the Slytherin. He felt that there was so much unresolved between them, but could not for the life of him imagine a way to successfully broach such topics. Sure they must weigh as heavily upon Draco as they did on him? And what with the escalating war, Harry realized that his opportunities for addressing such concerns could be quite limited.

Rarely one for subtlety, and unnerved by the silence, Harry launched into one of a myriad of topics he wished to discuss with Malfoy. "How much of what happened in those, uh, other worlds, means anything here?"

Draco finally looked at him, an eyebrow rising attractively and enigmatically. It took him a moment before answering, as he tried to figure out exactly to what Potter was referring. After all, so much had happened. . . "I don't think you could have come up with a more vague question if you tried, Potter. As for an answer to such a question, I'll have to vaguely reply, not very much."

Harry blushed, realizing now that of course his lame question would receive a useless response. As usual, when dealing with slippery Slytherins, one had to severely limit the wiggle room. So he tried again, "Yeah, but there were definitely some patterns, some consistencies you could say. If they held up in, uh. . ." He counted quickly, "five different universes, then they probably hold up in this one too, right?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed dangerously, obviously aware to just which 'consistencies' Harry was referring, and his whole expression was transfigured from one of indifference to one of enmity. He leaned forward on the table and hissed venomously, "If you want a working relationship with me, Potter, you better never mention what happened or what you think you learned in those other worlds. Not to me, and especially not to anyone else. Don't even think to yourself about it!"

A little hurt, and predictably incensed by Malfoy's typically shitty response, Harry also leaned forward on the table, adrenaline pumping, and did what Gryffindors do best – escalate the situation by being about as blunt as blugger. "And what if, Malfoy, I don't want a working relationship with you?"

Malfoy's chair scrapped loudly across the floor as he jumped to his feet, clearly enraged. "Then we won't have one! You're the one who offered to help, you stupid, fickle, fucking Gryffindor! I knew you would hold it over my head! Well, FINE," Malfoy bellowed, quickly working himself into quite a state, ever one for melodrama. Harry stood and tried to interrupt, to take back his words, but it was like trying stop a rampaging Hippogriff. "I'll figure something out on my own! I don't need your help!" Then as though realizing just how much of a lie his last claim was, he calmed slightly and lowered his voice again, to announce spitefully, "I hate you, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes in aggravation. How many times had he heard those exact words from the Slytherin menace? "Bloody hell, Draco, stop it already. You completely misinterpreted my words, as always. I said, I don't want a working relationship." Harry stepped close to the peeved blonde and, slightly drunk on his own adrenaline (the BALLS!), he grinned maniacally. "I want a different kind of relationship."

Draco did a double take, his scowl vanishing and his jaw dropping open slightly as his mind grappled with the meaning of Potter's words. Unnoticed, two plates of meatloaf apparated onto the table top. "Potter, I really don't-"

Harry took another step, grabbed Draco by the arms, and pressed his lips against his. Draco's body tensed and he gasped, and Harry took the opportunity to slide his tongue into the warm, sweet mouth. Sure, he had always had courage and good reflexes in the face of adversity, but this was a blind pursuit of what he wanted. Harry hadn't realized it yet, but his realm-jumpingexperience had altered him in subtle ways. Traumatic days in which his actions had virtually no consequence left him with a focus on the long-term goal. Whatever the immediate skirmish, he went into it with his eye on the greater purpose. And, at the moment, his two greater purposes were victory over Voldemort and having a go with Draco Malfoy.

It took only a second for Draco to react and shove Potter off of him. The two teens stood a meter apart, breathing heavily; Harry tried to interpret Draco's expression, but all he could make out was confusion and hesitance. Was that fear that flashed through his silver eyes?

Whatever it was, Draco had apparently come to a decision because he was shaking his head. "No. Nonono. Potter, you're completely off your rocker. That can never happen here, surely you must realize that?"

Of course, Harry's indifference to immediate consequences was strictly limited to the period prior to such consequences, but he did try to quash the hurt and offense that constricted his chest and lungs. "No, I don't realize that at all, it worked in those other timelines!"

"The war wasn't at Hogwarts' doorstep in those timelines, both of us have more pressing concerns! We don't have the time to be so self-indulgent," Draco snapped back. Harry couldn't argue with that, and while he was trying to generate his next words, Draco sat down at the table again. Seeing that Harry was going to press the matter, Draco decided to dig up the truth – not his favorite strategy, but sometimes the most effective. "Besides, it only worked then because those versions of me wanted you to hurt them. I'm not gonna open that fucking Pandora's Box."

Potter took his seat too, mortified by Draco's revelation. He had suspected, of course, due to the nature of his interactions with the other Dracos, but it wasn't anything he wanted to admit to or even consider for very long. It certainly didn't reflect very well on him that he had been so willing to participate is such an arrangement. Had the other Harry honestly wanted to hurt his partner, or did he just want to be with Malfoy in any way possible? He couldn't say, as Harry hadn't had the benefit of insight into his other selves, not like Malfoy had.

Draco had begun eating and wasn't even looking at him when Harry fell heavily into his seat and finally managed a weak, hoarse answer, "I don't want to hurt anybody, Draco. Especially not you."

Draco snorted slightly in disbelief, returning his gaze to Harry with a raised, skeptical eyebrow. Who was he kidding? They had spent the last five years hurting each other. Still, perhaps sensing Harry's doubts, Draco's reply did not challenge the Gryffindor's claim. "Perhaps not. . . Harry." The name sounded foreign from his lips, prompting him to wipe them quickly with his napkin. "But that's the only way any sort relationship could work between us."

Now it was Harry's turn to be confused and genuinely upset. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Draco took ages to finish chewing another bite of meatloaf, his mind spinning: how much to tell Potter, how much to trust him, how much he wanted him to know. . . Finally, he swallowed, and carefully broached the subject that just minutes ago he had berated Harry for even thinking of. "Think about it. Given my. . . history, of which we will never speak again, you can imagine that I might be kind of fucked up the whole. . . relationship department. I've always known this, but these past few days have proven it to me, as they should have proven to you as well. I'm not gonna bog myself down with such unhealthy crap. I've enough on my plate. If you remember correctly, this is not the only universe where I have chosen this path."

Draco returned his attention to his food, while a painful swelling formed in Harry's throat. A rejection would have preferable to such a logical elimination; it was like their feelings didn't even matter. "You didn't say anything about us hating each other," he vocalized meekly, but he knew that the small hole he found in Draco's defense would do nothing against his larger argument.

Draco looked up again, considering Harry for a moment. The gangly, messy-haired teen was right: despite professing his hate just minutes ago (for which he now felt moderately ashamed), it hadn't even occurred to him as a reason why they could never be or whatever. Somewhere, during the trauma of the last nine days, the deep-seated loathing between had faded, so all that remained was a superficial and transient hatred. At the moment, Harry looked so despondent that Draco decided to forgo another declaration of hatred. Instead, he just shrugged and said indifferently, "You're okay, Potter. Interfering, but you have your moments."

This time, when Draco returned to his meal, Harry gradually started in on his. He bowed his head and fought back the tears that prickled his eyelids, trying to cool the heat of pain in his chest. He told himself that Draco was right: that now there were more crucial issues at stake; that not only was Draco probably too messed up for a healthy relationship, but in all likelihood so was he.

Harry had only made it through half of his meal by the time Draco had finished. The Slytherin stood and glanced at the door. "I'm going to go talk with Snape, why don't you come down when you're done?"

Harry nodded without looking up and Draco moved away from the table, but stopped before leaving. He was honestly surprised at how hard Potter was taking his rejection. Surely the Boy Wonder couldn't care that much? Draco wanted to kick himself as he felt his resolve wavering; no one of any quality had ever wanted anything to do with him. If Potter was still willing to help him, then maybe it was only fair to give him a chance. . . Draco diverted his mind from that line of thinking, but it was too late. He sighed, causing Harry to look up at him morosely. "Listen, Potter. . . Harry. Don't be all upset, we just got back from some seriously fucked-up experience, I don't think we should jump into anything. We'll figure it out, okay?"

The blonde departed for the dungeons and Harry was left wondering if Draco meant to give him hope with those last words.

! CHAPTER END !

Yikes. That chapter was long without much plot advancement (cringe). I'm having some difficulty realistically shifting to the "real" universe. I am thinking of transitioning into a hard-core war fic right about now, at least for as long as it takes to develop the HP/DM relationship and possibly to kill Voldemort. What thinketh thou? PLZ REVIEW!