Harry stopped here, and was ashamed to find that his eyes were damp with tears of humiliation and anger. He was embarrassed that he had been so ineffective, and angry – angry at himself – that he had blindly and foolishly walked into a trap. A trap which he could have easily foreseen.

'What – what about the others?' he asked quietly. He was still not looking at Draco.

'Granger just got a bad cut. Krum's sporting a broken arm, Fleur is in the room next door, but she'll live. They patched her up alright, but she'll never be able to wear a bikini again. All the others were not seriously hurt, they were sent home right after they brought you back here.'

'Harry!' A voice thick with worry sounded as Hermione burst through the door. 'Oh Harry! You're awake!'

She pounced on him like a volture, pulling him into an embrace.

'I was so worried,' she admitted, pulling away. 'We thought you were going to die. You had so many ribs broken and some punctured your lungs and your hands were dislocated. What on earth did Voldemort do to you?'

'No idea,' Harry shrugged, 'some spells. I was in no state to remember them, though, not after six Cruciatuses.'

'It doesn't matter, at least you're fine now.'

'Wait, how exactly did everyone get out of there? Alive?'

'Well, we thought he'd killed you so we dealt with the Deatheaters as soon as it was possible and encircled Voldemort. We wanted to attack him but he just Dissapparated. Then we took you and brought you here.'

Strange, Harry thought. Voldemort pretty much fled. Was he frightened of some Aurors? Not likely. He had more power than all of them put together and multiplied by a hundred. Plus, he could use the Unforgivable Curses. So why did he just... Disapparate?

Quite unexpectedly, Hermione burst into tears.

'I was so scared, Harry,' she said, sounding quite like the 16-year-old girl she had been not that long ago, 'I though you were dead and – and – and -'

'I'm fine, Hermi. I'm fine,' Harry said soothingly, patting her head in a comforting way. 'Look, I'm sure Viktor is waiting for you. Go, take care of yourself. Ok?'

'Ok – kay,' she gave him a tearful smile and Disapparated.

Draco took Harry back to the apartment two days later. The Healers wanted Harry to stay there for at least one week, but Harry as restless and anxious and simply would not stay in bed. He promised to stay off work, though, and was presently bored out of his wits.

'Potter – Harry – we need to talk,' Draco was saying on the third day after Harry's return. 'About us.'

Harry looked up from the book he was reading, with one finger adjusting his glasses.

'I expect so,' he said, putting the tome aside. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, the fractured ribs still causing him considerable pain.

'Well, erm, before you left you -'

'Kissed you?'

'Yeah.'

'Your point being?'

Draco was becoming aggravated – why was Harry being so nonchalant?

'Harry, we used to be enemies. For years. Then you just kiss me. I'm sorry, but things don't just happen like that.'

'Draco, I admit that perhaps I.. rushed. I should not have kissed you, not without explaining myself first. We were children in Hogwarts, you and I, immature, impulsive and unreasonable. I blamed you for things I imagined you were guilty of, you hated me for denying you on that first day. Now I understand that I cannot hate you for the person you are – you value pedigree and pure blood, but that is the way you were brought up. I know now that you are not on Voldemort's side -'

'Well, I cant say I was an angel... I mean, I did make it seem as though I was going to follow in Father's footsteps, didn't I?'

'Yeah, you did. We've both changed, and when you sauntered into that reunion night, I was smitten. I mean, have you seen you? You're beautiful! And I suppose the fact that we both lost our parents made me see you in a different light, too. It was like I could understand you.'

Draco reached out to touch Harry's hand, and that simple gesture sent shivers running down Harry's spine.

'I know you feel the same way,' Harry stated softly.

Draco looked u p, startled.

'I heard what you said to me, when I was unconscious,' Harry clarified, 'not clearly, but I remember most of it. You said you needed me.'

'I do,' Draco breathed.

His eyes rose and emerald and silver met, and there was warmth and love, a sudden bond between two very different people. Draco's hand still lay over Harry's and it was a strangely comforting weight.

Draco smiled – a genuine smile – and looked away, breaking the spell.

'Do you need anything?' he asked.

Harry caught the blond's hand.

'Stay,' he said, voice filled with hope and need.

'Sure, I'm not leaving anywhere.'

'No, I meant, stay here, now, with me. Don't leave. Never leave.'

Draco felt something he never really felt before - he felt needed.

There was a knock on the door. Harry came out of the shower, towel-drying his hair as Draco slid in and closed the door.

Harry opened the door, expecting to see Hermione or Viktor, or Ron.

But it was Severus standing there.

He had not changed much over the five years – he was still tall and thin, but his hair was shorter than back then. His face was gentler – Remus' influence, Harry knew it – and he was in black clothes. Mourning.

'Severus? What are you doing here?' Harry asked, surprised.

Deep, sharp black eyes – sad, lost, hopeless eyes – looked at Harry.

'McGonnagal's orders. She wanted me to scry you.'

'What me?' Harry did not understand.

'Can I come in?'

'Of course. Sit, please.'

Severus lowered himself onto the sofa, looked, rather uninterested, around the living room and turned back to Harry.

'You are aware than I am a skilled Occlumens, Potter?' Severus asked, but despite the fact that he still called him Potter, his tone was no longer full of disdain and disgust. No, they were not friends – they never will be – but the hatred had diminished. Yes, it took Harry long to accept that Severus killed Dumbledore upon te Headmaster's own orders. He had received a letter after Dumbledore's funeral, in which Dumbledore explained why it had to be done and why Snape of all people had to be the killer. Harry understood that Snape was bound by the Vow and that he was irreplaceable as a spy. Even if he had not totally forgiven Severus, he accepted that what happened had to happen. It seemed that Severus too now thought better of Harry.

Neither had he condoned Severus' tentative and somewhat strange relationship with Remus, but he felt happy when he saw how happy Remus himself was. If that was what it took for his beloved teacher to be joyous, then Harry supposed it was alright.

'Yes, Severus,' Harry answered, sitting opposite him.

'Scrying is a sort of a branch of Occlumency and Legilemency. No spell is needed, but one does need the same kind of... mental qualities needed for Legilemency.'

'Um, ok. So what does it do?'

'Basically, I get to relive a particular time in your past. With you, of course. Not snatches of it like during Legilemency, but the actual, full event.'

'Like in a Pensieve?'

'Yes, like in a Pensieve.'

'And why does the Headmistress what you to, um, scry me?'

'Because we need to know what spells Voldemort used on you.'

'I don't understand.'

'You don't need to. Harry,' Severus looked tired and grey now, 'just do as I say. Alright?'

'A – alright.'

'Good. Sit before me.' Harry knelt before Severus, who took the brunet's face in his hands, 'look into my eyes. Don't blink.'

Fathomless black eyes – like two onyxes – pored into Harry's emerald ones. For a moment he felt nothing but the coolness of the precise and nimble fingers holding his face, and nothing else. But then the images started to come.