Chérie, parchments and quills
Chapter Ten - Curative company

Once the unpleasant and disconcerting sensations of apparition had passed, and their feet had firmly reconnected with solid ground, Harry felt Draco's warm body abruptly leave his hold. The man looked confused – possibly angry, as he surveyed his new surroundings through tear blurred eyes.

"Where the fuck have you taken me Potter?" Draco snapped, but the hoarse and croaked words lacked the normal bite that Draco would have imployed, had his emotions not been dug up so forcefully. He wiped his puffy red eyes on the back of his hand, angry and humiliated, and sniffled loudly.

"My place." Harry gestured, half-heartedly, at his living room in Grimmauld Place: Low white panelling sat below the towering Aegean-blue walls; the double armed Victorian wall sconces, gave light where the floor to ceiling windows – dressed with dark azure curtains, failed; the three dark-blue chesterfield sofa's – with various pillows and throws, sat a-top the Moroccan trellis carpet, in front of a stunning white marbled fireplace. "You can't disapparate within Hogwarts grounds…" Harry continued. "…Or I'd have taken you back to your private chambers, and I didn't think you'd want the students gossiping either."

"Bet you love this Potter." Draco sniffled loudly, trying to pull himself together quickly.

Harry could almost hear Draco chanting – 'A Malfoy must remain poised and in control at all times. A Malfoy must never be weak.' But the real voice that broke through his thoughts was still angry and snipping at him.

"Do you get off on playing the bloody hero and-"

"Enough!" Harry shouted, knowing Draco's reaction only too well – having personally reacted the same way many times in the past; Draco was angry and humiliated, and snapping insults because it was better to be angry and hated then to face painful emotions. "Of course I don't bloody enjoy this! I'm trying to help. The last time I checked Draco, that's what friends do."

"I'm touched by your solicitude Potter. If your idea of friendship is kidnapping, then I think you need your head examined." Draco practically screamed.

It was obvious that the unexpected apparition had snapped Draco from his temporary state of defeat, but the failed attempts the blond made to reel in his tears and pull himself together, belied his anger. Harry could see beyond that angry façade, beyond the new mask Draco was now wearing, and he saw self-hatred, pain, grief, and hatred at an unfair world.

"I figured you wouldn't want anyone to see – to see you like that. That you might have appreciated someone to talk to that would understand!"

"You understand nothing Potter. You've never done anything wrong in your life. You weren't there. You weren't- You didn't see what HE did, what he made ME do! You have no idea what it's like-"

"No." Harry's voice started sombre - his eyes cold as he stared into shocked grey ones, but it grew louder and angrier the more words spilled from his lips. "No of course not Draco, because I didn't carry a part of him, of his soul in my fucking head for nearly seventeen years. I didn't wake up puking my guts out every time I watched him murder or torture someone through his eyes, and I didn't watch him kill my mother over and over again in my dreams because of them fucking Dementors! No of course not Draco, of course I have no fucking idea!"

"H-his soul?" Draco's voice trembled; his eyes wide as his thoughts whirled.

Harry realise he'd said to much – 'Fuck'. At least Draco was no longer shouting though, not now the tables were turning onto him instead.

He sighed and walked to the other end of the living room - over to what looked like a massive golden snitch stuck trying to pass through a tall wooden table. Harry opened the top half of the golden ball, revealing a drinking cabinet with glasses. As Harry was helping himself to a glass of Glenglassaugh Octaves single malt Scotch whiskey, Draco found his voice.

"You – you died – you – you said he cursed your soul. That the cure was to die by his hand, to sever a bond that affixed his life to yours… You – you lied, didn't you?"

Harry downed the shot of amber liquid and played with the empty glass as he turned to face Draco. He sighed. "I lied by omission. I told only enough that would make sense, yet would keep the world safe."

"That…" Another loud sniff from Draco before he continued. "That has nothing to do with carrying a part of his soul in your head, or being able to see through his eyes!"

Harry poured out another glass of whisky – of liquid courage as he had dubbed it, and as he poured another one for Draco's sake, he decided that in order to gain Draco's trust and encourage him to open up, maybe he could be honest about the soul fragments Tom Riddle had stashed away. If nothing else, it might prove that he did in fact, understand enough.

He shoved a glass of whiskey into Draco chest – forcing the man to take it, as he passed him on the way back to the dark-blue chesterfield sofas. He all but collapsed into the one on the right, tiredly. He sighed and ran a hand down his face, replaced his glasses, and then looked up at the blond again.

"This doesn't leave the house!" Harry stressed, taking a sip of liquid courage. "What I have to say is classified – Ministry level classified. I need your word Draco, that what I've said and what I'm going to say doesn't leave this house. I'll need you take the oath of silence."

Draco sat on the opposite couch, obviously in agreement to the oath. Harry almost scoffed – Draco's curious nature was something alright; the guy could be so easily baited with a bit of gossip or the most hush-hush of secrets. Somehow the suspense of what Harry was about to say had sobered Draco from his own frustration and pain – well, enabled him to bury it again, and Harry strongly suspected it also had to do with the fact that the attention was no longer on the blond, but on him instead.

Draco nodded, taking an eager swig from his glass of whisky, but he looked a right mess. Despite the burning curiosity that now blazed in those coin-grey eyes of his, and the expectation that he – Harry, would now disclose deep dark secrets, Draco's eyes were red; tear streaks marred his perfect pale skin where he refused to use his clothes to wipe his face, and loud sniffs broke the silence every few second.

"The bathroom is just outside to the right." Harry pointed. "The towels are clean. I'll initiate the oath of silence and explain everything once you've fixed yourself up a bit." When Draco went to argue, Harry held up his hand and added. "I refuse to talk to someone with snot all over their face!" His lips curled into a slight smirk.

"I do not have snot Potter!" Draco sniffed rather loudly.

"Could have fooled me." Harry chuckled.

"Shut it, Potter." Draco grumbled, but he still jumped at the chance to protect and recover his perfect appearance.

Harry smiled bitter-sweetly as Draco left the room - with the whiskey still in his hand too. Whether or not Draco realised it, he'd managed to calm the blond down and get him to stay for a drink. It felt good – being able to help in some way, but Harry now had to share some of his own demons. Perhaps he should take advantage of his more Slytherin qualities…

He still had to flush out the truth – had to be sure that Draco and Tau were one and the same, but he wouldn't ask outright. He would need time first – lots of time, before he could confront Draco with that truth. No, right now, he'd rather help Draco. If he could gather proof in the meantime, that would be great, but it could ultimately wait a day or two.

Harry summoned a muggle notebook and pen, and began writing down the oath of silence. He'd finished before Draco returned, but sat there patiently waiting – thinking about Horcruxes and souls, things he'd hoped never to explain nor think about again.

Draco didn't return for a good ten minutes, and Harry was just pouring another glass of liquid courage when the man walked into the room. Draco put his empty glass down on the coffee table expectantly, which Harry happily re-filled.

Harry then placed his hand over the upside down - still opened notebook. "If I show you the words to the oath, and you do you not take the oath… I will need to obliviate you." Harry's voice was firm and deadly serious.

Draco gulped down a mouthful of whisky, obviously weighing up his options, but in the end he nodded. "Show us then Potter."

Harry turned the notebook over and waited for Draco to agree or disagree to the oath. But Draco took out his wand and nodded.

Harry only hesitated for a second, before taking out his own wand. "I Harry James Potter, son of James Fleamont Potter and Lilly May Potter nee Evens, call upon the oath of silence to protect the world from knowledge that may harm it and the natural order of life. Absie linguamea aeternum."

"I Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa Druella Malfoy nee Black, herby agree to the oath, and will never again speak of Horcruxes nor the magic and process involved – except to those that already have this knowledge and bare no ill intent. Absie linguamea aeternum, et ita fieri."

Blue light travelled from Draco's wand to his throat, glowed, and then vanished as the spell took effect. Draco, literally could not even mutter the word Horcrux to another person now, even if he wanted to. The intention of the silencing oath would also prevent any method of communication – and not just speech: writing, sigh language, and Legilimency for example.

"This isn't something I share lightly Draco. Apart from Kingsley, only Ron and Hermione have this knowledge. It's fucking difficult to share too – it's a pivoting factor to my worst nightmares. I don't talk about them, not even to Ron or Hermione."

"I understand Potter –- Harry." Draco nodded, and he seemed sincere. The prat probably liked to know everything though. He'd be like that kid with the secret, ever growing stash of candy - even if he had no intention of ever sharing it or eating it. Yes, Draco probably had some degree of hunger for knowledge.

Harry decided to try his luck first – it couldn't hurt to ask, and he was probably stalling too if his was honest. "Once I've told you - explained everything about the Horcruxes dear old Tom made, I'd like you to tell me what happened today at the Three Broomsticks. I think I may have some idea, but I want to hear it from you."

Draco glared daggers at him, so Harry continued. "Listen, whatever happened, it hit you hard enough to send you running. It obviously brough back bad memories. I'll share some of my demons with you regardless, but as your friend, I'd like to understand a bit better."

Draco huffed, downed the last of his liquid courage in one, and then helped himself to another – filling up his glass with rich amber whisky. "Fine! Bloody manipulative bastard. Once you have finishing explaining what you meant about his soul being in your head, I'll tell you some of the finer details to my illustrious past."

Harry nodded, hoping that Draco would trust him enough after this to share his own burdens. Right now, however, he had to decide where to start. "Have you ever heard of a Horcrux?" Harry asked, raising the glass to his lips to steady his nerves.

Draco shook his head, frowning as he searched his memories. "If I have, I don't recall anything."

"No one was supposed to know anything about them, the ministry had destroyed all books on the subject. Tom learnt of them when he was at school, through Slughorn of all people."

"Professor Slughorn?" Draco interrupted.

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "But he didn't know what Tom wanted with that information, and he meant no ill intent, even warning Riddle how dark they were. He was horrified when Riddle asked the possibility of making seven."

"How do you – what is a…"

"A Horcrux is the name given to an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul. Tom would – he would murder someone, use some sort of spell that even I don't know – nor do I ever want to, and then a part of his soul would split off it into an object of his choice, becoming a Horcrux. He did this six times before his downfall. Well, five times - the sixth time was an accident on his behalf." Harry had to pause and use the slight burn of the whisky to distract his thoughts - if only for a few seconds, before continuing.

"The sixth vessel held a part of his soul, yes, but he never intended for it happen, nor did he get the chance to say the spell and make it a true Horcrux because his body was destroyed. That's why he could never die and stay dead the evil bastard, because - because a part of his soul always remained earthbound and undamaged. When he –- when he came back in 1995, at the end of – the end of – erm - fourth year –- he - he made another one by killing-"

Harry's eyes throbbed as he tried to squeeze back the visuals of distorted dreams and memories. They were like a thick fog, sneaking into every crack and crevice until he couldn't see anything else…

A scared, tortured woman defiled and dangled above a table – bright green light blinded him – a snake consuming her lifeless body – the snap of bone - a splatter of blood, and the violating feelings of joy and achievement at ending her worthless life.

Harry screamed. "No No NO! Get out of my head you sick fuck!"

He stood up abruptly, forgetting his company, and ran to the bathroom mirror. He had to see his reflection, had to know it was still him inside his own body. He had to see! See anything but the images in his mind. He knew the feelings had never been his own – had only ever been that sick bastards… but his body had been violated; He'd seen through His eyes back then; felt His feelings and expressed them through his own body.

A woman – defiled – green - snap of bone – blood – joy. It had been a broken link back then – blurry, and he hadn't known at the time that it was the muggle studies teacher – Professor Burbage. But… he knew now, and he knew that her death had given birth to the seventh Horcrux – Nagini. The sick loop of that memory made his stomach lurch.

He retched into the toilet bowl. Whisky burnt fifty time hotter – like acid, when it was coming back up. He cursed himself for panicking that he was still a Horcrux. Tom, Voldemort… he was gone! No one was in his fucking head! No one!

He retched again when he heard his mother pleas and screams – the vile taste it left behind made him gag, and when green filed his vision, so did the battle of Hogwarts: Hexes – curses – screams – blood – death…

"Harry!"

Harry sobbed. 'Oh Merlin! They were calling for him to help. He couldn't help, couldn't save them, couldn't save'-

"Harry! Its okay."

Harry felt a hand … a real hand, touching his shoulder. In his delirious state and frantic climb to stay above the flood of images, all he knew what that It was real, solid, and he clung to whoever that hand belonged to. His panicked thoughts chanting 'Help me!' as he clung to the only living thing that could.

Draco held Harry, shocked to witness the raven-haired man sobbing and shattered on the bathroom floor. Harry didn't break down! Harry was strong! But right now, Harry was sobbing on his shoulder and holding onto him so tightly that it hurt.

"Potter! Come on Harry, calm down. Let me help you to the couch at least." Draco coaxed, but Harry was a dead weight. He wouldn't move, and he was gasping for breath.

Draco managed to get to his wand, and he cast a few cleaning charms to clear up the sick. The smell was going to make him gag at any rate, but Harry would hopefully appreciate it at the very least – at least he might, when he'd calmed down, but Draco had no idea how to help him do that.

"My – My…" Harry tried to speak, pointing up at the bathroom cabinet. The visions where fading, but his breathing was so erratic that vertigo was settling in dangerously. The pain threatened to undo years of therapy, and he was humiliated to be caught in this state by anyone let alone Draco Malfoy.

Luckily Draco had received his message, and he could just make out the blond frantically searching the bathroom cabinet for clues as to what it was he needed.

"P-Po -Potion." Harry rasped, fighting to focus on Draco instead of his nightmares – listening to him list of the potions.

"Pain relief? Dream sleep? Pepper up? Anti-Hiccup? Calming D-?"

Harry managed to make a loud noise of confirmation.

"Calming draught." Draco confirmed before rushing back to him. "It won't be as affective with the whisky you know."

Harry tried to nod, but the spinning room threatened to make him vomit again. He tried to grab the potion vile, but he was too off balance and his hand grasped at air. Still gasping for breath, he felt a hand gently tip his head back so he could take the potion that Draco was now pouring into his mouth.

As the Calming Draught started to work, Harry felt burned red with embarrassment and shame. He shakily stood up, glanced at himself in the mirror, and left the bathroom.

Merlin, he needed a seriously strong mug of coffee!

"I'm okay Draco, really!" Harry repeated for the third time. He really didn't want to discuss his mental instabilities. "I told you, it was just a bad flash back – a PTSD episode maybe. I haven't had one in years, but this is why I try not to talk about past events." Harry toyed with his mug, looking at the reflections on the porcelain surface. His episode had past, he just wanted to pretend it never happen really.

"Harry… that was – I mean – You ought to speak with a professional." Draco said, but at least he had the decency to seem nervous – like he was worried his words would be ill received or unwelcome.

"I used to." Harry admitted. "They helped me as much as they could. I was discharged. Unless I get worse or something new happens, there's nothing more they can do for me anymore."

"Fuck me Potter. I'd be a wreck right now. How are you so nonchalant about this?"

Harry gave a short dry chuckle. "Askes the master of masks." Harry shook his head. "I'm not, Draco. Its just… I was that half-cocked sixth Horcrux he never intended to make. I lived with a piece of him in my head for sixteen years, and he even possessed me at the end of fifth year. That was real – what I saw through his eyes, what he saw through mine, and having to feel that bastard's emotions when he was angry or-" Harry shivered, and took a deep breath. "My visons, flashes, or whatever they are… they're not real – they're not him. I suppose, it's the fact that I know they're something my own mind creates in its pain, that gives me the strength to 'wake up' and deal with it the best I can. The calming draughts help - stop me from passing out at the very least, and they help me to focus on reality. I dunno. I've always been good at ignoring pain, fighting anything that wants to take control of me, but… I guess… well, you being here helps too." He gave Draco a small smile.

"Merlin's bollocks, Harry. You were a Horcrux?" Draco shuddered, and Harry nodded sadly at him. "Fuck! I'm assuming that's why you walked to your death like a bloody Gryffindor. So, what, you died and traded Tom's soul piece for your own or something?" Draco asked with bewildered aghast.

"Something like that." Harry nodded.

Harry stared at his coffee mug, remembering the bright white nine-and three-quarters, where he'd spoken with Dumbledore and seen that horrible form of Tom, where he'd assumed death had come for him. The most vivid part of that memory however, was that of Tom's tiny, shrivelled, emaciated body.

Tom Riddle, was once just a young orphaned boy. To think that any child could grow up to become what Riddle did… it was unbelievable and horrifying. Ever since his sixth year – since he'd see that memories of young Tom at the orphanage, he wondered what Tom would have been like had he been adopted by loving parents – witch and wizard parents. Was he tainted because he was conceived via a love potion? Was he angry at the world for leaving him to the mercies of an orphanage? Would he have always turned out the same?

"What happened?" Draco voice startled him. "You know, prior to your mad dash to the bathroom? What did you remember?" Draco was still frowning at him, concerned or worried for him maybe.

"What happened in Hogsmeade?" Harry tossed back.

"I asked first!" Draco glared over his coffee mug.

"Actually, you prat," Harry chuckled. "…I did! Right before that dumb reporter tried his luck. Remember?"

Draco sighed and continued to sip his coffee. Harry didn't think he was going to say anything about his own trip down horror lane, but when he did, Draco's voice was distant and pained deeply - as if eroded into his very being.

"I saw Madam Rosmerta." Draco paused, staring at his mug – much like the way Harry kept doing.

Harry had eventually figured that much out – Draco's involvement with the landlady had been hashed out in much detail during Draco's trial. In fact, Harry felt like a royal idiot for suggesting the Three Broomsticks in the first place; he wondered why Draco hadn't rejected the offer to drink there from the get go. Right now, however, he just hoped that if he stayed quiet long enough, Draco would go on and elaborate. His patience paid off.

"You know what I did to her Potter. The things I made her do under the Imperius Curse. I never meant for Katie – for Weasley – for… I never wanted to hurt-"

Harry placed his hand over Draco's then, grey eyes snapping to meet his own before returning to his cup.

"I know." Harry sighed in understanding. "You did what you had to do for your family. You expected Dumbledore to see through the cursed necklace, and the poison, to be the great, omnipotent man everyone claimed him to be. You were forced to let the Death Eaters into the school. I know you didn't want to do those things, and I know you torn yourself apart that year. It was a war, there were more than two sides Draco, and you were in the grey – being backed into a corner. Only someone that found pride and enjoyment in their orders from that bastard deserved to be punished. Only those that feel remorse and guilt over the thing they were forced to do, deserve absolution."

Harry looked pointedly at Draco, willing the man to understand that he deserved forgiveness and freedom, but Draco just stared at his mug. Harry could see him discreetly biting at the inside of his cheek, his breathing increased ever so slightly, and his glossy grey eyes closed for that moment too long. Harry couldn't help but rub his thumb over the back of Draco's hand, but he stayed silent – waiting for Draco to find his voice.

Without looking up, Draco voiced his fears. "I can't – I can't face her. I can't look at her and see the terror in her eyes or the – I just couldn't-" Fear of crying, of showing his weakness, halted his words. Harry saw a single tear fall from Draco's bowed head, and it landed with a plop into the coffee mug. "I thought I could- I thought-" Draco got up from the table to leave the room, but Harry was faster.

Harry stopped Draco leaving and hugged the man to his chest – to hell with masculine or pureblood expectations. "It's okay." Harry patted his back, holding him closer than was probably necessary. "Draco, whatever you say here, stays here alright. Besides, you have blackmail over me now you know."

Draco chuckled into Harry shoulder, and Harry pulled back with a small smile. He squeezed Draco's shoulder. "We both hide our pain, our grief and our guilt. As misplaced as half of it probably is, it still hurts right?"

Draco nodded. "Thank you, Harry." He whispered.

"Come on then." Harry gestured for Draco to sit down, trying to lighten to depressive air that had befallen the room. "I'll make some more coffee, shall I? Try to finish what I was talking about. You know, before I lost my marbles down the toilet."

"Are you sure Potter? What if-"

"I guess you'll just have to give me another hug then." The words had left Harry's lips before his brain had even giving consent, and he turned to busy himself with a fresh batch of coffee.

"I don't do… hugs, Potter." Draco sneered as he sat back down at the huge dining room table.

"I am honoured then - for having you in my arms three times today already." Harry teased, going alone with his first comment now that it had been said. The glare Harry received made him laugh, and the swooping butterflies gave a blush to his cheeks.

"What is said here, stays here?" Draco clarified slowly, as if confirming that fact and reminding himself of Harry's words.

"Yep!" Harry replied, promising Draco of his discretion and secrecy. Their shared weaknesses were only between them, and that had somehow brought them closer as friends. A blushing smile was still on Harry's face as he lowered the fresh coffee onto the table.

Harry sat down opposite Draco. "In all seriousness though, I meant it Draco. I like you – when you're not being a total moody prat anyways. Your past doesn't change that. I like who you are now, and it's the now and onwards that matters to me. I won't hurt you by taking the piss, or by telling people your business – not even Ron or Hermione, and even I don't share half my pain with them. I only ask for the same courtesy in return."

Harry held Draco's eyes as he continued. "I don't think bad of you for breaking down earlier either, I've done it enough times. I know how humiliating and weak it can make you feel, but… I have your back Draco. I hope that's something you can accept because … I think I need someone to have mine too. You up for that?"

Draco looked around the room before replying. "Mmm. Oh, sorry Potter. I was just wondering who decorated this hideous dining room!"

Harry glanced around at the old cabinets that he'd cleaned and varnished in a nice cherry-mahogany shade; the light flax coloured walls that he'd stripped and painted; the varnished oak table with the simple butter coloured tablecloth down the centre; the twenty cherry-mahogany chairs with their butter coloured cushions; and the new assortments of dinning ware and glasses on display. He thought it was okay.

When he looked back at Draco however, he smiled; Draco's nose was exaggeratedly wrinkled in disgust, and he realised then, that it was avoidance for prides sake. Draco had agreed that they would have each other's back, but he wouldn't admit that out loud. The random attack on his dining room décor, was Draco's way of avoiding an otherwise awkward and sentimental conversation –- in fact, that was something Tau would do

"Would you like a tour?" Harry suddenly suggested, hoping to avoid the topic of Horcruxes a little longer if he were honest. "I have drunk far too much coffee to stay seated."

It wasn't just the coffee that was making him restless though, but the bomb of thoughts, feelings, and memories that had gone off inside him. The more he got to know Draco, the harder it became to deny the truth of who Tau actually was. It was so blindingly obviously, and yet, he still wasn't ready to accept it. Soon - soon he would find out without a shadow of a doubt, but right now, Draco had just agreed to the tour.

"This house was full of dark energy, dust, dirt, and falling apart." Harry explained as he watched Draco reading book titles in the library. Draco already held four books that Harry had agreed to let him borrow – three on potions, and one about rare plants and their uses. The library had been stripped back, cleaned, painted in soft cream shades, and divested of cursed or exceptionally dark materials.

"I had boggarts, pixies, doxies, dust mite, bugs… you name it this place had it." Harry continued, sitting down the teal coloured sofa to wait for Draco. "So many dark artifacts and rituals had passed this house – the walls vibrated in it. Walburga's portrait wouldn't shut the fuck up and-"

"Wait! Walburga?" Draco turned to face Harry. "As in Auntie Walburga?" When Harry nodded, he asked - "Why do you have her portrait here?"

"This is 12 Grimmauld Place, the most ancient and noble house of Black. Sirius made me heir before his death – not that I knew that of course, but I hold the tile 'Lord Black' now – along with Potter of course."

Draco abandoned his book hunting, practically throwing himself down on the identical couch opposite Harry. "You- Potter, you do realise that now my father is in prison you can preside over my own mother!"

"Yeah. Erm… The Goblins might have said something about that, but I have no interest to mess with her life." Harry explained, not seeing the big deal.

"Harry, you don't understand. My mother wants a divorce, but requesting one is demeaning. She wouldn't have any access to the Malfoy vaults or properties any longer either. If you were to deem her marriage in breach of the marriage contract, or express concern for her wellbeing as the Lord of Black, she could be released of her vows without condemnation and blame. She'd probably be entitled to a substantial sum of the Malfoy funds – well, what remains of my fathers that is, as indemnification."

"Re-Really? What about you though?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure." Draco slouched slightly as he thought. "Mmm, I am an adult now. The right of lord Malfoy is already mine because my father has been sentenced to life in Azkaban. Worst case scenario, I will have to become a Black like my mother. I don't think It would come to that though, and seeing as I am the remaining male of the Malfoy line, they should honour the protection of the sacred families act. To be honest though, my family's name no longer holds the respect and reverence it once did. I don't care if it ends with me."

"I don't mind helping. If that's what your mother really wants then I'll look into it, but I'll need your help. I really don't know how all that stuff works."

"That, I can do. I will write to mother tomorrow." Draco went to get up, but then he frowned. "I never saw Auntie Walburga's portrait during the tour of this acceptable abode?

"Acceptable? I'll have you know that this is a thousand times better then it was." Harry said, folding his arms.

"That it may be Potter, but it is still only acceptable as far as living accommodations go. Nothing noble or remarkable about it." Draco insisted.

"Well, I'd like to see you do better! As for Mrs Black … It was the day I was basically fired from work, due to my - well you saw why today." Harry unfolded his arms and sighed. "I came home in a raging fit, slamming things, breaking things, and the state of the house only spurred me on. I didn't regret breaking anything because it was all destined to be burned anyway. Then dear old Mrs Black's portrait started screaming and insulting me and my lack of employment, and next thing I knew… I had blown up the wall – literally. That window at the end of the entrance hallway… let's just say, it hasn't always been there."

Draco snorted… chuckled… and then started laughing that adorable, heart-warming quiet laugh of his. Harry found his smile, his laughter, so contagious that he couldn't help the mirth that rose up and burst from his lips in joyful laughter.

"Her portrait has protection charms and the like…" Harry went on when he could talk again. "…So, she didn't get damaged. She was still attached to part of the wall though, and I had shocked her into total silence. I couldn't believe she had nothing to say – just looked at me gaping. We managed to have her moved to the Black vaults – Kreacher was pissed, hated me for the entire year."

"It's not typical for adult wizards to have bursts of accidental magic. Must have been some anger!" Said Draco.

"Actually, I think it was intentional to some degree. I remember wanting to get rid of her, to shut her up for once. I wanted her gone, and then suddenly the wall was no more. I also realised that I'd been using wandless magic during my entire rage. That's when I discovered that I didn't need a wand for basic spells, and half the slightly more difficult ones either. On top of that, Hermione pointed out the next time she came over, that I had somehow broken the curses or what not in the house, and dispelled the dark energy."

"How?" Draco sat there almost gaping, and Harry wanted to laugh again.

"I don't know exactly." Harry admitted, rubbing the back of neck. "Hermione has already questioned and tested me to death, and she thinks that my hatred of the house – its darkness, and depressing smog if you like, pissed me off so much that during my rage, I somehow got my wish to be rid of it. I was just happy to know that I wouldn't go mad living here. After that, the house was easier to clean and decorate. I didn't get my job at the school for a few months, so I spent all my free time on the house. I discovered that I get bored siting on my butt all day, so I got right into it and obliterated the place." Harry shook his head and smiled at a memory. "I remember inviting the Weasleys over for dinner after I did the first two floors; Molly wasn't sure it would be a good idea – said it would be safer to go to them, everyone else dragged their feet over, but once they got here… I swear it took an hour to pick up their jaws off the floor."

"You never cease to amaze me Potter. I must admit, I am curious now. How bad was this place? Surely it couldn't have been that bad, having belonged to my mother's family and all."

"Oh, I'd say… a cross between Myrtle's bathroom, a four-hundred-year-old abandoned classroom, and the dark depths of the Forbidden forest – and then times that by at least a hundred and fill with dark artifacts. I could always just show you a memory in a pensive."

"I will hold you to that." Draco smirked. Somehow, Harry got the impression that Draco didn't quite believe him.

A comfortable silence fell over them as Draco returned to the books, but Harry had a sudden desire for fresh air. He knew he should finish explaining about the Horcruxes soon – the break from the topic wouldn't satisfy Draco for long, he'd have question later for sure. At least he'd accomplished one of the things he had wanted to achieve – to get Draco to open up to him a little.

He looked over at Draco, taking in his elegantly long fingers and the way they held the books – long fingers trailing each spine as he browsed; his sharp defined jaw line with a rather attractive amount of stubble; and flawless pale skin, with that beautiful pink blush. The sun would be setting soon, and Harry wondered what the changing colours would do to that platinum hair, or his coin-grey eyes, or indeed… that perfect taught skin across his cheekbones.

Oh… he sighed, lost to the vision before him. 'Please be Tau.'

With that though, he knew what he wanted. He wanted Draco Malfoy with Tau's personality. Gods help him, he was a sick bastard, but he liked Draco, there was no doubt about that. He had come to realised that he cared for the blond, perhaps a little more that platonic. There were new parts of Draco he was seeing all the time that he… well, he loved those parts of the man. All it would take, was a little more give from Draco - a little more of what Tau had given him in all those letters, and he knew… he knew he would fall in love.

"You okay?" Draco asked, a slight frown marring that perfect brow as he looked over at him.

Harry scratched his neck. "Yeah. I was just…" Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "…Just wondering if you fancied an evening picnic? It's nearly five – we have to get back to Hogwarts soon, but I need the fresh air to be honest. I also want to finish explaining the horcruxes to you before I lose my nerve and never tell you."

Harry returned his glasses, and he saw Draco quickly turning his face back to the books.
'Was he staring at me?'

"Y-Yeah that sounds like a good idea." Draco played it off as if he'd finished book browsing and simply wanted to sit back down. "What about the secrecy though? What if someone over hears us, or you need your potions, or- What?"

Harry had been called up on the smile he was aiming at Draco, but he didn't care and shrugged. Draco was obviously worried about him, and that was a nice feeling – to be worried about period. Oh, he had people that worried about him – far too much actually, but it was the type of the worry. Hermione worried far too invasively; dear Molly worried by over feeding you and fussing; Ron worried by running to Hermione, or thinking that a quick pat on the back and a pep talk solved everything; and Minerva worried from afar, or with biscuits and tea. Draco's worry was different, welcoming, and definitely less invasive.

"I know a place. It will be deserted anyway at this time of day, but I can ward the area as well to be safe. I'll take a calming draught with me - I always do anyway if I'm not at work or at home. I haven't needed it in ages though, so, I doubt I'll need it again. I'm sure today was just a one off." Harry smiled, raising to his feet and stretching.

"Alright then Harry, if you're sure." Draco stood up too, a small smile gracing his lips. "Let us get what we need, and then we shall enjoy the melody of nature."

Harry suddenly remembered Tau's words: "…Absorbing the heightened magic of nature while denuded of all apparel." He chuckled at the memory, and then suddenly felt the heat in his cheeks when the images of Draco luring him into the forest naked returned.

"Come on then." Harry said, before Draco commented on his embarrassment. "I'll get Kreacher to gather some food, we can go find a basket or something, and a ground blanket."

Harry swiftly left the Library, Draco hot on his heels and none the wiser to Harry's lewd thoughts.

Harry was right, the sunset made Draco glow. It warmed Draco's pale skin, made his hair golden, and blurred out everything else. He found himself wanting to lean his head on Draco's shoulder, but instead, he laid back on the blanket and stared up at the waking stars.

He then felt Draco do the same, but he was so close that their arms brushed. His heart seemed to speed up a fraction as his breath halted, but Draco didn't say anything.

They laid there enjoying the colour changes of the sky, feeling the autumn breeze. It was as if a soothing blanket had been draped over him – something calm and grounding after the difficult topic of Horcruxes he'd just endured, and he suspected that it had something to do with man lying beside him now.

"Thank you, Harry." Draco almost whispered, but it still startled him from his thoughts.

"What for?" Harry whispered back.

"For saving the world with your sacrifice. For being brave enough to die for people that may never know you. For saving me. For allowing us this opportunity to just gaze at the stars and breath. And, for dragging me to your… acceptable little abode, and being a friend when I needed one."

Traitorous tears pooled in Harry's eyes as he blinked. He had never been thanked in such a way before; most people thanked him for being a hero, giving him credit for the things he'd never even done - and never showing their gratitude towards others who had also played a part in winning the war.

The way Draco worded it was sincere, touching, and it really hit home what his death had actually achieve for the world. He'd never accepted that he'd done more then actually be a sacrifice, but now… now he could see all the things that might not have been if he hadn't done his duty. He still grieved for those lost, but now he could see all the things his sacrifice had saved – Draco being one of them.

"Harry?" Draco's concerned voice registered in his ears, but it was the gentle thumb that brushed away a stray tear that startled him. "Sorry. I shouldn't have-" Draco panicked as he hurried back to his side, sitting crossed leg and looking out across the hills in embarrassment.

"No. Its okay, really! I'm just being stupid. You just - you have no idea what those words meant to me." Harry sat up and smiled warmly at the man next to him, before looking out at the horizon. "I always hear such rubbish. People thinking I'm a hero that single handedly won the war, but everyone played a part – even you Draco!" He turned to face Draco once again.

"Me? I was a coward. Too scared and too ignorant to do the right thing." Draco sighed, staring at his bent knees.

"No Draco! You kept you and your family alive. If Narcissa had – if she hadn't been there to lie to Tom, I might have died and stayed dead. We all have a knock-on effect; we all played a part. Even the terrible things Tom made you do, do not take away the goodness that I know is in here." Harry placed his palm on Draco's chest.

Their eyes met - both sets blurry in their struggle to accept the truth of each other's words. As their eyes continued to hold contact, and Harry could feel Draco's heart beat beneath his hand, he felt an awkwardness suddenly descend on him like a cold shower – this had become far to mawkish for his taste. 'Oh Merlin!'

Harry suddenly patted Draco on the shoulder, and stood up rather quickly. "Come on, we best get back I'm afraid. It's nearly Nine already, we need to be up for work tomorrow. I just hope Minerva doesn't have kittens that we abscond for the day." Harry said.

He, offered a chuckling Draco his hand - to help him up.

"I'm sure she'd have found a way to contact us had she needed to. Still, I think I'll avoid her for a few days to be sure." Draco said, brushing himself down.

Harry laughed, waved his hand, and their picnic packed up and vanished back home. "Shall we?" Harry offered to do the disapparation, with Draco as his side alone.

"Indeed." Draco smiled warmly, taking Harry's hand in his own rather tightly.

With a crack, the hills were once again left in solitude under the calm night sky. The wind caressed the grass back to shape, from where two teachers had once laid - releasing some of their long-carried burdens. Even the stars seemed to wink knowingly as the moon rose to guard the night.