Sorry it's been quite a while, but I've got rather important exams coming up in 10 different subjects, starting tomorrow and going on until the 16th of June, so I'm a bit frantic at the moment.

Strange happenings... turned around yesterday to find my rabbit drinking out of my beer bottle...

"Harry?"

Harry groaned at the thumping cacophony in his head as he heard Hermione's voice, and instinctively rolled away from the cause of the pain, hitting something soft and warm. Keeping his eyes firmly closed, he took one long sniff, and nearly coughed as the acrid stench of TCP in the Hospital Wing shot straight up his nose. Touching Draco's arm lightly as the Slytherin slept, he felt the magic seep through gently to soothe the thundering headache, and he mustered the energy to roll back.

"Hello."

Hermione looked as though she had been crying. Her face was pale as she stared at him, as though she didn't want to believe that he was real, and as he sat up, she raised her hand to her mouth.

"Oh, Harry." She breathed, her voice choked with tears. "What happened to you?"

Harry gazed down at his hand, which had a bandage wrapped around, already stained with blood, before answering the question.

"When?"

"Oh, all the time!" Hermione burst out, half frustrated, half upset. "You've been hiding from us for nearly a year, Harry! How long did you hope to keep this up?"

Harry shrugged, picking at the quilt resting over the two single beds, Transfigured together to make one larger one.

"It was Dumbledore's idea." He said lamely, and Hermione sighed in a rather exasperated tone.

"You can't honestly expect me to believe that you had no say in this!" she shot back angrily, then her face fell. "Oh God… all the things that we said to you…"

"Yes, that did rather interest me." Harry replied grimly. "I saw a whole new side to Ron. I never knew just how jealous he was of me – even after what you said during the Triwizard Tournament, it never clicked that he might actually still be bothered."

"Well you certainly could have tried a bit harder to be our friends." She snapped.

"Why bother, when I have one better right next to me?" he snarled in response. She glanced at Draco briefly before looking down at the floor.

"You could never understand what I went through those first few weeks of term." He said softly. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably.

"We were still grieving for you." She replied quietly. "We weren't in the best frame of mind to acquire a new friend."

Harry shook his head in disgust.

"Do you know what Ron did, that night after we first started Animagus training?" Harry spat furiously. Hermione shook her head. "He shouted at me for quarter of an hour about how much he hated Harry Potter, then beat me up and locked me in a broom cupboard for the night. I wasn't found again until the next morning, when Draco had the sense to use the Map."

"I'm sorry." She replied quietly, but Harry wasn't finished.

"And then when I collapsed on the floor? And I was taken to the Hospital Wing? I woke up to you and Ron talking about me, basically slagging off both James and Harry. Still ignorant, am I?" he raged. He felt Draco move beside him, and immediately turned to him in favour of Hermione.

"How you doing?" he asked anxiously. Draco looked up at him through fatigue-laden eyes.

"Not too bad." He replied, his voice hoarse. "I think they had a bit of trouble healing some of the worst curses."

Harry looked around for his watch, but couldn't see it anywhere – so instead, he held his right hand up, scar glowing beneath the bandage.

"Tempus."

As the numbers formed in the air, he heard a small gasp from Hermione.

"We've been in here two days." He informed the Slytherin. "And we have a visitor."

At this, Draco started, and raised himself up on one elbow to see over Harry. As he caught sight of Hermione, his face twisted into the familiar sneer. It looked as though he was about to say something scathing, but then his face went blank, and he glanced up at Harry instead.

"I suppose I have to be nice to them, now the plan's gone to pot?" he asked, sounding disappointed. Harry frowned.

"I honestly couldn't care." He replied, realising as he said it that it sounded a bit too nasty. "But that's a point, I'll need to speak to Dumbledore about the Secret. It might have been the massive power surge that obliterated it – I don't know though, I'm just guessing…" he mused. Draco shrugged.

"I'm sure if you ask Pomfrey to get him, she will. You're back as the Golden Boy now, there's nothing people won't do to please their undead saviour."

"Don't you make me sound like a vampire." Harry said, screwing up his face. He ran his hands through his perpetually messy hair. "To which point, I bet I'll have the Prophet accosting me as soon as I'm out of this room."

"Are you still here?" Draco asked brusquely, and Harry stared down at him.

"Draco…?"

"I meant her." He gestured irritably, and Harry looked to his left, surprised to see Hermione still sat there, nervously fiddling with her robes.

"Hermione, what do you honestly expect to achieve by being here?" Harry asked her tiredly.

"I think she's hoping you'll forgive her and the Weasel and go running back to them, abandoning me along the way." Draco suggested sardonically. Harry smacked him.

"I wasn't asking you."

"I just…" she began, but Harry waved her excuses away.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend that we're going to be best of buddies from now on, all right? But I don't see why we have to be enemies."

Hermione nodded slowly.

"I'll see you later then."

Harry watched as she stood and walked over to the door of the Hospital, Wing, pausing as she met Dumbledore on his way in. they exchanged a few quiet words, and with one last look back at Harry and Draco in the bed, Hermione left. Dumbledore watched her go for a moment before gliding across the floor to the beds.

"I see you are awake." He commented. Harry suppressed the urge to respond with something scathing. Beside him, Draco pulled the covers up over his head.

"Good afternoon, Professor." Harry replied as Dumbledore took up the seat on his side of the bed.

"How are you this day?"

"I'm fine, nothing that Draco can't heal." He shrugged, and manoeuvred to sit up straight with his back against the wall, scratching his bare chest. Dumbledore peered over Harry to see the lump of sheets on his other side.

"And, er… how is Mr Malfoy doing?"

"Probably getting all hot and bothered under there." Harry replied mildly. "He's mostly fine, just a few minor repercussions from the curses that Madame Pomfrey couldn't sort out. He'll live though."

"It should prove a slight disappointment, should the God of Life die."

"You make us both sound like creatures from another realm." Harry said softly. Dumbledore regarded him through half-moon spectacles that glinted in the warm light of the open fire behind the headmaster. The smell of freshly baked bread and honey wafted in from the Great Hall, where the feast was commencing.

"You ought to be now aware of the stories circulating about the two of you – yourself in particular. The Boy Who Lived, supposedly dead, but then resurrected miraculously six months later? The Wizarding World is in a state of disorder that I have rarely seen before."

"Thanks for reminding me to ask you." Harry yawned between his sentences. "What happened with the Secret?"

"I was hoping that you might be able to help me with that. It is a conundrum to which I have not discovered the answer."

"And…" Harry fumbled at the neck of his pyjamas, pulling out the gold chain with the Prohibiting Charm on it. The lion was twisted and charred.

"And this too?"

"Another, to which I am sure that you yourself have the answer. I ask you, please tell me what transpired in Malfoy Manor two days ago."

Harry took a deep breath.

"Nothing much, really. I woke up and Snape and Lucius took me to Voldemort. Draco was already there, it looked like they'd beaten him up. Me and Voldemort talked for a bit, he tried to recruit me, then he tried to kill me. But Draco used the bracelets to transfer all of his magic to me, and I think the power was just… too much. It kind of exploded out of me."

"I presumed something along those lines must have happened," Dumbledore agreed, nodding his ancient head. "That would explain the destruction of the Prohibiting Charm – such a weak spell would never stay under such duress. I also felt the spell for myself as the Secret Keeper break whilst we were searching for you. I could not understand how such a thing could have happened, to begin with. But what happened then?"

"I just basically untied Draco, healed him and then…" Harry paused, and suddenly he felt sick. "Oh god, Bellatrix Lestrange…" he whispered. Dumbledore peered at him in a concerned way as his face grew pale.

"Harry? What happened?"

The memory of what he had done all came rushing back to him, and he abruptly leant over the edge of the bed and vomited on the floor. Dumbledore inched away.

"Evanesco." He murmured, and the sick disappeared, along with the rotten stench. Harry shook violently as he rolled back onto the bed, and Dumbledore watched with interest as one pale hand crept out from underneath the sheets to rest on Harry's side, and the shaking stopped.

"I killed her." Harry said quietly, staring at the ceiling. "I killed her."

"Everyone and everything has a time to die." Dumbledore replied in a vague attempt to console the Gryffindor. It didn't work.

"I never thought that I'd ever kill someone."

"Welcome to my world."

Harry broke out of his reverie and looked down at Draco, who had appeared from under the sheets, looking slightly ruffled but more open than he had ever seen him.

"I don't think I like it very much." He whispered, and one single tear eased out of his bright green eyes to roll down his cheek.

Draco chose not to reply; he simply tightened his hold on the younger boy and pressed his face into the pillow beneath his head. Harry looked back at Dumbledore.

"I don't particularly want to talk to the Prophet about this, you know."

"I know."

"But it's only February, I'm going to have to go back to lessons."

"Yes. Madame Pomfrey has told me that you should be fit to continue your normal routine by tomorrow afternoon. Both of you."

Dumbledore stood to leave.

"Wait, sir." Harry said suddenly as the Headmaster walked toward the door. He looked around, with an expression of mild interest on his face.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Please… tell Snape thanks. For getting the bracelet for me."

"Professor Snape, Harry. And I shall. Good night to you both."

Harry watched the old wizard contemplatively as he glided out of the Hospital Wing serenely. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if perhaps he was taking some sort of wizarding drug. He looked down as he felt Draco's warm breath against his shoulder. The Slytherin was staring resolutely at Harry's pyjama-clad leg, his scar pulsing with a gentle light where it rested on Harry's stomach. He looked up at Harry as the other boy glanced at him.

"I would miss you something terrible if you were to die." He said in a low voice. Harry smiled sadly.

"I forgive you." He whispered, and bent his head to kiss the top of Draco's white-blond hair. "I don't think I could have stayed angry with you for very long."

"And thanks."

"No problem."

They lay in silence for a moment, simply accepting each other in the quiet warmth of the Hospital Wing, Harry's un-bandaged hand gently sifting through the Slytherin's soft hair as the other boy drew light circles on his bare stomach, just enough to not tickle.

Harry slid back down to lie beside Draco. He felt his eyes drifting shut, and vaguely wondered what he looked like without glasses on. It must have been weird for Hermione, he conceded, to see him like this. If he had thought that Ron was dead, then he had reappeared again six months later with a world of experience in his eyes, Harry wouldn't know how to react. Then again, he was still slightly miffed that Ron hadn't been there and waiting when he woke up.

The fact that Hermione actually had been there had to be a good sign, however dubious – but in a normal world, it would have been both of them there. Or perhaps just Ron, with Hermione researching what had happened to Harry this time. The loss of his best friend struck him more now than it had done before, because now he was Harry Potter, not James Antares, and he wanted Ron to be there, no matter what the other boy had done to him in the past half year. Because he was still his best friend, apart from Draco of course. But that was probably just Draco. And Harry knew that Draco would die for him.

He dragged his eyes open as another thought occurred to him, gazing at his lover. His lover, who despite how Harry had treated him, still pursued his integrity. He gently nudged the dozing Slytherin, who groaned in response.

"Let me go to sleep, Harry." He muttered, pressing his face into Harry's neck. "Giving you all my magic kind of drained me, you know."

"I know." Harry said in a soft voice. "I just wanted to ask you something."

Draco sighed, rolling onto his back to look up at the ceiling, rubbing his eyes.

"Ask away then."

Harry had to marvel at Draco's absolute willingness to answer whatever he might ask, and do whatever he was asked. Smiling, Harry snuggled up to him.

"I love you."

Draco groaned.

"I thought you were going to ask me something!" he exclaimed, prodding Harry's side. The Gryffindor snorted and squirmed away.

"Yeah I am." He continued. "I was wondering what the Death Eaters beat you up for."

Draco had been regarding him with light, cheerful eyes, but as soon as Harry asked him that they clouded over and he turned away onto his other side, facing away from Harry. Harry winced and eased himself up onto on arm, leaning over Draco's body, one hand resting on his hip.

"Don't tell me if you don't want to."

"There's not much point in not telling you." Draco admitted with a sigh, and Harry rested his head on the Slytherin's arm. "You probably won't like what it was though."

"I don't mind." Harry said truthfully, wrapping his arm around Draco's waist.

"First, they tried to get me to join. I wouldn't. Then, they tried to get me to tell them any and all information regarding you. Funny, I actually couldn't for half of it, because of both your Secret and the spell with our scars. But I wouldn't tell them. Then they tried to get me to kill you. Then they brought you in."

Harry tightened his grip on the older boy, not having to ask what it was that he'd been through. Imperius, by the sound of it. And Cruciatus went without saying, of course. Harry didn't know many other Dark spells, but it didn't take much imagination to think up of what they might have done.

"I love you." He repeated, and moved back as Draco rolled over, fixing his emerald eyes with his own stormy ones.

"Do you?" he asked quietly.

Harry stared at him.

"Of course I do!" he said, shocked. "How could you think that I don't?"

Draco shrugged, looking at something over Harry's head.

"You seemed rather angry with me the other day, when I reacted badly to seeing you as opposed to James. I know I was rather immature."

"I already said that I forgave you for that." Harry said incredulously, still having trouble getting his head around the concept that Draco didn't think that he loved him. "What's the problem?"

"I just wanted to be sure. Don't worry, go to sleep." Draco waved at him, motioning for him to turn over. Harry did so, still rather puzzled, so that his back was against Draco's chest. The Slytherin draped an arm over Harry's side, and the Gryffindor took hold of the hand and pulled it up against his chest.

"I do love you." He murmured, and felt Draco nod against his shoulder.

"Go to sleep."

"I'm awake now." Harry grumbled slightly, staring into the fire opposite the bed, his mind working ten to the dozen as he berated himself for god knows what. But even as he said it, he felt Draco's hand warm where it lay across his heart, and he immediately felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from his chest. And then sleep was washing over him in waves of affection that seeped into his subconscious even as he fell under the gentle spell.

"I love you so much."

Harry felt the words, more than heard them – or maybe it was that they were in his head, reverberating through his mind. He wasn't sure, but he didn't really care. He knew it anyway.

He fell asleep.

As you know, only 1 chapter left. I realised today that I could have at leats made it up to 30 chapters for a nice round number. In fact, I might gather my grey cells together one last time just to do an Epilogue, just to make it 30. If I have the energy.

Comments very welcome and much appreciated.

Many thanks,

smokey