GUESS WHO'S BACK *grins* And no, it's not a dream. After such a long (very much unexpected, unintended) hiatus and many many comments/pleas asking for an update, I finally delivered. Reasons for long hiatus, I have several: writer's block, family drama, mental health issues, struggles of being an adult. Etc, etc, etc. Bottom line, it has not been a fun time for me. But towards the beginning of summer, writing block slowly was getting replaced by writing urge. And here we are.

Shoutout to Melissa aka FanofBellaandEdward for her kindness and help with this one. And also to Sensiblytainted who I know is going through her own crap. Hope this chapter brightens your day just a bit.

Chapter 47: Dreams and Reality Colliding

Two best friends laid on the bed, lying on their sides, hands clasped together, wrapped in a warm cocoon that kept everything else out.

It was a similar position they've been in countless times before over the years. The most significant timing being after the funeral of Harry's parents, when he had broken through his zombie shell and Draco was there to anchor him back to the land of the living, holding his hand tight, his warm eyes a beacon light.

Back then, grief was the wall wedged between them. Now? It was secrets. Secret after secret with fear underlining it.

To get through the new wall created between them, they talked. Talked so much, making up for the months of silence. Talked more freely, more openly than they have in quite a long while-possibly in years.

Harry told Draco of the zombie he became during the summer, so still and quiet that Remus and Sirius were terrified. How numb he was to everything: the time that blurred into days, calls of his name, the news that were discussed in murmurs, even food which resulted in his weight-loss. His annoyance and lack of surprise of the news, the Ministry and the Daily Prophet twisting his words into lies. How writing became his own therapy and the growing pile of journals containing his scrambled thoughts and emotions. The tension between Sirius and Mrs. Weasley, caused by Dumbledore, spread over to Remus with each adult having an idea of what's best for him but not grasping the full picture. Meeting Tonks, who reminded him a bit of Luna with her quirkiness-minus the riddles.

Draco shared his own summer tales. Returning to the Veela retreat with little fuss that was a shock to everyone who remembered his hostility from last year. The tension that sprung between his parents when he and his mother returned home, contributing to his early, easy arrival to the retreat. Mother accompanying him to France, Father remaining in England and sending him countless letters. Getting into a fight with a buffoon that was badmouthing him, Harry, his family. His powers growing stronger.

As the hours rolled on, the words slowed down. Bit by bit until they were wrapped in comfortable silence, shifting them from talking to staring.

Harry couldn't stop staring at his best friend.

Draco was beautiful; a well-known fact few would argue against. Gifted with a classic, undeniable beauty from his pale hair that was practically white, glowing like beams of starlight in the dark night, his face that was composed of sharp but elegant features, his gray eyes. Features Harry knew better than his own, ones that he couldn't stop studying, as if he was seeing his old friend in a whole new light.

Maybe it was because Draco always looked softer at nighttime. Maybe because this was the first time they were together in such a long time. Or maybe it was because Harry was finally out with his feelings. Either way he couldn't stop looking at him anymore than he could stop raking his fingers through the silk blonde hair, brushing his pinkie over the pale hand entwined with his own.

"Stare any harder," Draco murmured, eyes closed. "And it's gonna hurt, Potter."

Harry's face flushed in embarrassment from being caught, but still he said, hand still against Draco's face, "Want me to stop, Malfoy?"

One gray eye opened, lit in mischief, followed by the other. "I never said that. By all means, stare on. My face deserves to be gawked at. Have portraits and marbles done in its' magnificent honor."

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Glad to see your ego is still intact."

But of course, said the smile Draco gave in return.

Good to know some things didn't change. Draco was still Draco and would always be so. Harry had a feeling they could be in their nineties and Draco's ego would still be larger the Europe continent. Harry settled more comfortably in the bed, eyes still locked onto him. How was it possible for old, familiar features to become so new to him?

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise.

"And not-not just because of the Veela thing," Harry continued. "You've always been beautiful. I just didn't see it before." He bit his lip. "You know what I thought the first time we met? What you reminded me of?"

Draco shook his head slowly.

"A prince," Harry told him. "A prince from storybook."

The shock in his eyes dimmed down to a tender softness, Draco's pale complexion flushed from the words, his bottom lip chewed on sheepishly, peeling back another layer that was just as striking as the first. His best friend was so beautiful, Harry couldn't grasp it. Beautiful and smart and arrogant but loyal. Always loyal.

Regret twisted in his chest. He should have known better on how Draco would have handled the truth. He should have trusted him more. Have more faith in his friend. "I'm sorry," he said for what was probably the hundredth time that night. He could say it a hundred, a thousand times more, and it still wouldn't be enough. Not to him.

Draco's bemusement over the earlier comment sobered at the appearance of a frown crossing his face. "Harry-"

"I should have told you the truth right from the beginning. When I woke up in the hospital wing, or just said everything through letters. But I was so scared. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to lose you. Most of all," Harry chewed on his abused lip. "I didn't want you to choose because I was too scared of what you'd picked."

Of who you'd pick.

Draco said nothing for awhile, staring off into space. He then shuffled closer to Harry, his fingers stroking his cheek. "Honestly? I would have done the same thing if it was reserved."

Harry stared at him, puzzled.

"I would have," he insisted. "Because I'm that selfish. I'm that cowardly. I wouldn't be able to handle losing you either."

Although the words did soothe him, Harry still had to say, "I'm sorry."

Draco sighed. "Like I said, Potter, you have nothing to apology for. They should have told me the truth," His frown deepened. "It actually explains why things have been so tense between them. Why Mother kept her distance."

It dawned on Harry that during all the time he spent shuffling between his uncle's innocence and guilt, the possibility of his aunt being part of Voldemort's cult never once crossed his mind. Thinking on it, he couldn't see it. He couldn't imagine her following anyone, especially a madman even if her sister did. And her husband possibly.

"Also," Draco continued. "It would explain why Father gave me the family ring. Well, one of them anyway."

Unease stirred in his chest, curling in his stomach. Draco mentioned the last letter his father sent him before he came back home, the match that triggered the match with his classmate that ended bloody. A letter that contained thoughts on the future and a list of matches that could possibly be part of it.

It wasn't that surprising since even as kids, Lucius would talk to Draco about him taking on the responsibilities of the Malfoy manor and finding the right partner worthy of that name. Knowing though that a list was made of potential matches finalized the notion, turning it from thought to reality.

"So this list?" Harry said, attempting to make his voice light. "Anyone on there we know? Daphne? Pansy?"

Draco raised his eyebrow, making Harry regret asking. Regret that sharpened as the frown on Draco's changed into a cheeky smile. "Jealous, Potter?"

"No!" His face burnt by the shrillness in his voice.

Draco's grew in length and mischief as he inspected hi m closer. "You are," he practically sang.

Harry ducked his head in an attempt to stop his face from burning. And to keep him from knocking that smile off. "Shut up!"

"Oh this is just delicious."

"Oh, like you haven't been jealous before!" Such as Blaise, whose comments and smirks triggered too many threats. Hermione, Ginny, Kilia from Hawaii, even Luna just to name a few.

"Hence why I'm enjoying this so damn much." Draco gleed. "Who would have thought Saint Potter could harbor such dark emotions?"

"Shut! Up!"

"The Chosen One, The Golden Boy, The Great Solider of The Light who can withstand dementors, rats, and Death-eaters. Even the Dark Lord himself yet is brought to his knees by the heavy, unescapable grip that is jealously. As mighty, as green as his eyes themselves." Draco gasped. "The scandal of it."

Cheeky smug bastard! Harry rolled over to the other side, irritation and mortification stinging his cheeks. Seconds later, he felt a set of arms wrapped around his waist and a pointy chin nuzzled against his hair.

"I don't know who was on the list," Draco answered. "I didn't care enough to see. Though I'm sure the fish must be enjoying the scrapes I feed to them." Draco nuzzled against him. "Besides, I already know who the one for me is."

Harry bit his lip to stop the smile threatening to grow on his face.

"I am curious on something though, Potter."

Harry lifted his head to look up at him.

"When did you realize you have feelings for me?"

And suddenly Harry was in a great mood to hear more of Draco's gloating over his jealously. It was ridiculous that after everything, all that was said and shared, after the rounds of embarrassment he went through, that was the question that set his body to humiliating heights.

And made Draco's amusement all the more infuriating.

"You first!" Harry snapped.

"No, no." Draco shook his head. "That's not how it works. I asked the first question, so you give the first answer. A lead and a follow. See how that works?"

Oh, he saw perfectly. Just like how he saw perfectly how a good punch to the jaw would knock some humility into the prat. "Well…" Harry resisted the urge to rub the burning nape of his neck. "There-I suppose…there were a lot of signs."

Draco moved closer, his smile summed up in two words: go on.

Doing little to resist his eyeroll, Harry said, "Looking back, I suppose feelings were always there. In the little moments, the not-so little moments. Like when I saw one of Quirrel's spells hit you during our fight. I was more scared of him hurting you more than him me. Or…second year, where we tried the serpent salute again. The summer before third year, when we tried it again and it felt…different."

Thankfully he wasn't the only flustered one. Draco's cheeks were splashed in pink.

"When I got jealous seeing you with Daphne at the Christmas ball. And when I got jealous again when you took Pansy to the Yule Ball. And…and what happened afterwards." Heat surged through his veins, pooling in his lower gut as he thought back on it.

Heat that intensified as he glanced up into his best friend's searing eyes, forcing himself to look away before he lost his head entirely.

"I know it may not seem that way to you, but believe me, I wanted to. So bad. But I couldn't. You may have wanted it, but you were pissed-drunk. I couldn't do that to you. It was actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about the next morning, but well…"

Theo shared other events that went on during and outside the Yule Ball. Pansy left in anger, Theo in rage, Harry both and with a hurt so shattering he was shocked he managed to walk out of the Great Hall on his own two feet.

"Then the morning of the second task happened and I can't tell you how scared I was when I found out you were taken. How scared I was when I saw you floating around like a corpse. How relieved I was to pick up a pulse that I almost cried on the spot. Even after all the rants and threats you made against Dumbledore and everyone and having all their heads, terror and relief turned in my stomach over and over again until I thought I'd pass out. Then it just clicked. Why I was so terrified when I found out you were gone. Why I was so hurt over the Pansy thing. Everything. And it was because…" Each hard, wild beat of his heart made was a vibration that pulsed through his whole body. "I love you."

The self-pleasing smile on Draco's face melted away.

"I wanted to tell you, but I wasn't sure how so I kept it a secret for months. Then the day of the third task, I wanted to tell you. That was my plan afterwards, and then…well you know the rest."

Cedric got killed. Voldemort returned. Harry barely escaped. And was unable to look Draco in the eye because it reminded him too much of the strange Death Eater.

He could feel the reminder slicing through their warm barrier like a knife, exposing them to the cold. "So what about you?"

Draco looked away, lost in thought before those grays snapped back to him. "Well like you said, there were a lot of signs leading up to it. Problem was we were both too stubborn and dense to pick up on them. You more than me."

Harry scowled, but inclined his head in a go-on gesture.

"For me, though, the stepping stone was the Yule Ball. When I saw how happy you looked with Lovegood, I was so angry I couldn't see straight. That's why I left with Pansy in the first place. When I was with her, all I could think about was how wrong it was compared to us being together, which scared and confused me. And when we were together…if you haven't pulled away…I honestly do think we would have gone further that way. All I remember thinking was me wanting us to go to the stars. And then you tucked in and I asked…" A frown pinched his mouth. "I asked if you were still mine. You said, of course I was, I always would be because we're best friends. Those words for the first time in years made me sick to my stomach. They didn't feel enough anymore." His eyes settled on Harry's. "Now I know why."

Harry shuffled together, entangling their feet together. "We're idiots."

"Speak for yourself, Potter."

"You lead that movement, Malfoy, by being a stubborn arse," Harry smirked at him. "I simply followed your lead."

"Git."

"Prat."

One look at each other and laughter spilled between them.

"So," Draco said once it died down. "Just to clarify and make sure we're both on the same page. Are we really doing this?"

This meaning them being together, actually together? No longer just best friends but more? It was so unbelievable, so baffling, and completely terrifying. "Yeah," Harry said. "I guess we are."

"So you liked the kisses?" Draco asked. "All of them?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, the first one. The second one. The one at the beach. The one after the ball. The one before the third task."

Draco shuffled closer until their noses were nearly touching. "Even the one at the train?"

Dear Merlin, that kiss. Goosebumps nipped at his skin from remembering it. "Especially that one."

"And..." Pink tinged his cheeks, hesitation painting his tone. "You love me?"

"So damn much."

Draco bit down on his bottom lip. That crack of vulnerability tugging at Harry's heart, which attracted him from the first time they met. "Can you say it again?"

"I love you." More than anything.

Draco shivered as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against his. "Again."

"I love you." So much that it hurt.

"Again."

"I love you." Harry caressed his cheek. His hand drifted down to his mouth, a finger tracing against his lower lip.

Draco caught the finger and kissed it. So softly, so sensually that fire swept into his body. He dragged his teeth against skin.

Merlin…

"Again," he requested, his eyes smoldering.

"I love you."

Their lips met and the world fell away like the faded notes to a song. It was jarring how shockingly familiar the touch was yet dangerously new the connection was each time it was forged. Like falling into an old favorite book and discovering the impact that was overlooked before.

Mine, Draco said with a sweep of his tongue.

Yours, Harry told him with a slow caress.

Next thing Harry knew he was pulled onto Draco's lap and being consumed by a ravenous mouth and teeth and hands. He was being devoured; he was thrown headfirst into the pit of the dragon and fell into it happily. He let himself be burnt. He allowed himself to be torn apart with each passionate kiss that wrecked him, each touch that seared his skin, leaving marks behind which were invisible to the naked eye. He didn't need to see them, though, to know that they were there; Draco's touch leaving a lasting imprint behind.

Harry was released from the intense lip lock and barely managed to catch his breath, loud pants being squeezed from his lungs. Draco laid underneath him, his eyes glowing silver and his chest heaving up and down – clearly he was as affected as Harry was and that pleased the dark haired boy.

Draco's pale hands skated down Harry's face, his thumb pulling at his bottom lip, brushing across the hint of teeth briefly. Then those hands drifted down his neck, over his collarbone, danced over his sides, before resting at the hem of his nightshirt.

Harry swallowed and, with shaky hands, pulled the shirt off, dropping it onto the floor.

The way Draco stared at him...It was like another set of hands were on him, running over his heated skin, not missing a single inch.

Harry's heart pounded so hard, he was stunned it hadn't burst from his chest yet. Though the way Draco watched him carefully, he knew fainting might occur in the near future if he didn't move soon. Swallowing down another nervous lump, Harry reached over and helped rid Draco of his own t-shirt. The second Draco was freed, he grabbed for Harry, crushing their lips together.

Hands explored and mapped out bare skin. Pants were shoved away, pushed to the floor. Cocks were freed, bare and tender, lined against each other. Joined in a dance as wild as the one their tongues were entangled in.

Frantic. Wild. Desperate, clashing with every collision, every meeting of their tongues. Feeding into the heat that grew.

That sang.

That swelled.

That burst-

Harry wailed as he came, clutching onto Draco as he broke apart into millions of pieces; tremors wrecking his body as pleasure coursed through his veins, igniting every last cell in his body. He shuddered and shook, feeling like he would burst apart if Draco wasn't anchoring him with his touch, his lips.

Draco thrust once, twice, four more times and came hard, coating both their stomachs, gripping onto Harry's shoulder and side so hard bruises were bound to show up tomorrow.

It was like they were flung off the world's axis, spiraling wildly through midair, weightless and free before finally landing back to solid ground. Once they landed, they caught each other's eyes and shared a kiss that singed whatever remains were left of them.

A string of chuckles spilled from Harry's mouth when they pulled apart. Draco joined in after he cleaned them and their sheets with a quick spell, wrapping his arms around him, nuzzling his nose against his.

"Say it again," he said. "Once more for extra measure."

Harry raised a brow at him. "You're going to be milking this in, aren't you?"

"I waited a good year for you to be caught up, Potter. I'm afforded that right."

"Should I make it your wake-up call then?"

Draco pinched his arm and smiled.

Annoyed as he was, Harry couldn't keep his smile down as he brushed away damp, loose strands from Draco's face. "I love you."

Draco kissed him softly.

"I love you."

He kissed him again.

"I love you."

Two thoughts came to Sirius's head when a familiar white dove arrived at the window of his and Remus's bedroom.

Actually four. The very first being, who was hell did she belong to? He hadn't seen the bird in so long, he almost blanked on the name of the owner.

Second, how long had the little pervert been there at the windowsill and did she just treated to a front seat to the x-rated show he and Remus just performed?

Those were the first two thoughts that came to his head, followed by two more important ones.

What this a joke? That was the third thought that popped up after reading the note attached to the dove's ankle, then read several times more to make sure the sex and exhaustion weren't mucking with his brain.

Fourth thought: why there of all places?

It was a question that bounced inside his head minutes later as he stood in the destroyed living room of the Shrieking Shack. He hadn't been there since the kiddo was in third year and he came close to exterminating a rat. Although the shack was Remus's refugee during his wolf-outs and became one to him back when he was enemy number one to the Ministry, he couldn't deny or fight back the chill that crept up his spine as he glanced around the place.

Merlin, it was even more creepy than he remembered. He never understood how Moony could stand being here longer than necessary. He'd rather than his chances in the Forbidden forest.

"I almost thought you wouldn't show."

Sirius turned around to see Narcissa strolling into the room, wrapped in a mink shawl, moving in a fluid grace that would have made his aunt proud. "Why's that?"

"Well, our previous encounters usually end with your barking."

He scowled. He'd happily show her barking and biting if she kept pushing him.

"I'll be frank," she continued. "Most times I can't tell if you keep at it since you need an outlet for your anger. Or if you harbor feelings for Lucius."

Feelings for who?! "Don't you dare insult my tastes!" Sirius said, breaking into a shudder.

"Pardon me if I have to question the taste-and the mindset-of a petulant child."

"Well forgive me if I'm not up for holding hands and singing Kumba with a backstabbing snake who turned her back on her own sister."

Narcissa met his furious gaze with a cool one of her own. "You mean the way you turned yours on Regulus?"

Sirius's wand was out in an instant, aimed at her throat. He didn't back down, even when he felt her own wand pressed against his guy, the magic of a dark hex stinging through his clothes.

"Do not go there!" he hissed.

Her cold eyes narrowed. "Do not attempt empty threats that will only cost you blood." She warned. "More importantly, do not let the pearls and heels fool you. I am not a helpless pet, Sirius, nor am I a empty-minded trophy wife. I highly suggest you remember the fact that I am a Black. I also highly suggest you remember the number of times we met in this position and the number of times I knocked you down on your arse with only one move."

Sirius would love nothing more than to meet her challenge and remind her she wasn't the only Black with dark hexes up their sleeve. But the sound a throat clearing interrupted and called their attention over to see Snape seated on the couch, watching them.

Those black eyes looked to Narcissa. "As amusing as it would be to watch you handle the mutt, it is late and despite what rumors suggest, I do in fact require sleep. So instead of behaving like smiple-minded children, why not explain your reasoning for us being here?"

Sirius blinked, his earlier annoyance gone. "How long have you been there?"

A scowl was used as a response.

"Happily," Narcissa said, then glanced over at Sirius. "That is if my cousin is through with his tantrums."

Sirius's blood still shimmered from her earlier comment. For what she did to him, to Andy, to his brother. But he was curious on why she decided to bring them together, so he put away his wand, swallowed down his pride, and sat down on the dusty couch, leaving space between him and the bat.

"Alright, Cissy," he grunted. "You sent the letters asking us here. Why?"

Narcissa walked over and stood in front of them, cool blue eyes shifting from him to Snape and back again. "I brought you two together because whether the Minister chooses to believe it or not, whatever scheme Dumbledore is hatching in that office, war is coming."

Shivers that had little to do with the house crept up his back like lice.

"And our boys are going to be right in middle of it."

Those shivers changed to pure ice.

"Lucius has confirmed it?" Snape asked.

Narcissa gave him a thin-lipped smile that reminded him of the verbal spats she got into with Fudge that practically left the man bloody and raw. "Lucius, and all matters related, at the moment are irrelevant."

Against his better judgment, Sirius's eyes glanced down at her hand, stunned to find her finger bare of its ring. "Is everything alright?"

Another thinned-lip smile served as her answer.

He decided to try again with another question. "You mentioned that the boys will be right in the middle of the war. You mean-"

"Exactly as I said it. Our boys. Your godson," She said to Snape, then looked to Sirius. "Your godson. My sons. They're going to be fighting the war and they're going to need weapons in order to win it. Which is where we come in."

Sirius glanced over at Snape, who was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable. Then looked back at his cousin who was watching him carefully.

He didn't trust her anymore than he did Snape but he made a promise when he was handed his godson for the first time and looked into his innocent face, swearing to never anything happen to him. A promise he made when he came back to Europe after all those years to prove his innocence and make things right. A promise he made when he saw what grief and anger and self-blame morphed his kiddo into.

That he'd protect Harry no matter what. If he had work together with the devil spawn and she-witch to do so, then so be it.

Sirius leaned forward in his chair, laced hands rested on his lap. "What do you want us to do?"