Chapter 11: Past and Future Present

Harry was still asleep when Draco emerged from the shower, which was perhaps for the best. Draco had made zero progress toward figuring out just what the fuck to do. His brain didn't want to work any better in the kitchen than the shower. While Draco waited for the kettle to boil, he stared at Harry through the agape bedroom door. Tea didn't help either, as Draco settled with it on the sitting room sofa.

Everything between Draco's ears screeched to an absolute halt when he heard a breath pull long in the next room. The bedspring creaked a little, followed by the floorboards.

Hair wild, Harry emerged haphazardly dressed. He stopped just free of the little hallway. "Hey."

"Hi," Draco quietly replied.

Harry studied Draco in that Auror way, feet carrying him closer in an idle approach. Draco didn't seem to be able to keep his gaze on Harry for anything longer than a split second. His half-empty cup was suddenly very interesting.

The tea table remained between them when Harry came to a stop. "Well, I can make a solid guess what a face that long means. What happened?"

"It's not that I regret it," Draco replied. "I just don't know if it was a good idea."

"Well, we already did it," Harry said. "So we could skip that part of the conversation."

"What else is more important than that?"

Harry frowned. "You can't seriously think we could just act like it never happened. I know I can't, and I refuse to believe you're any different."

"I'm not, but it doesn't matter." Draco's shoulders hunched as anxiety rose in his chest. "You aren't going to remember it."

"Being Obliviated doesn't mean I'm going to forget."

Draco stared at Harry while he scooped his glasses up off the kitchen table. "Forgetting is generally the purpose and definition of an Obliviation."

"You obviously have no experience with it," Harry replied.

"And you do?"

"As an Auror?" Harry crossed his arms. "Do you have any idea how many criminals try to Obliviate the witnesses to whatever they've done?"

"You can't compare a potshot Obliviation to what the Minister himself is going to do to you."

"I sincerely doubt Kingsley's going to Obliviate me so strongly that I—"

"You doubt or you know?" Draco cut him off with, and then spoke again before Harry could answer. "What point are you trying to make? Because I'm not hearing anything that could make this situation any better for me."

"Gut memory."

Draco blinked. "Gut memory."

"It's different." Harry unfolded his arms, but then didn't seem to know what to do with them. "Obliviation doesn't touch it because it's not stored in the head, and it doesn't work the same way as regular memory. If you put someone who was Obliviated in front of the person that did it, they can tell by something like instinct that this person isn't trustworthy. They get déjà vu."

"So. . ."

"So do you know what's going to happen when you and I cross paths after I'm Obliviated?" Harry asked. "Maybe I won't remember the specifics, but I'll know we fucked. I'll know it was good, and I know I'll want it again."

Draco worked his bottom lip. Harry wanting to fuck him again wasn't his primary concern. Draco worried far more about his heart, and he didn't hear anything in what Harry said that spoke to that in particular.

"Draco, meet me halfway here," Harry said. "After all the flirting and whatever else, you're just going to shut down once it gave?"

"It's not like I want to."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to remember it."

A silence fell between them that was nothing at all like the comfortable one Draco had begun to take for granted. He almost would have rathered awkwardness than the misery he inspired.

"You really didn't think about any possible way this wouldn't end badly?" Harry asked, sounding legitimately shocked. "I'm not hearing anything other than you're just concerned about what happens after the job is over."

"I thought. . ." But all of Draco's reasoning toward it felt thin now.

"Draco, come on," Harry said. "I wouldn't have let it happen if I thought I was going to hurt you. Don't you know me better than that?"

"I know you're as stupid about me as I am about you," Draco replied. "You're not the one who's taking a chance. I can't afford to come out the wrong side of this."

Harry regarded him with pressed lips. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't expect—I don't know. Why don't you think about what I said and see how you feel in a while? I'm going to hop in the shower. Then we should probably talk about our next move with Yaxley."

"Yeah. Sure."

Draco leaned on the arm of the sofa and gazed vacantly out the window, listening to Harry gather fresh clothes and then head into the bathroom. He didn't question at all that Harry's intentions were good, but he was just as prone as Draco to putting his heart before his head. True, Draco hadn't thought about how precisely an Obliviation worked. Harry would know more about that, as an Auror. It was just so easy for him not to worry about it, though. If Harry was wrong, he wouldn't know the difference. It wouldn't matter that he cared about Draco, or felt anything for him. He would carry on, oblivious.

In need of something to do to preoccupy himself, Draco busied himself with updating his journal to reflect the morning's revelation about them being in a causal loop. When Harry emerged from the bathroom, releasing the scent of his body wash into the cabin, Draco's mind stilled again. He already missed the scent that Harry had carried out with him from the bedroom, and which Draco would find again when he next went to bed. It was probably in his best interest to get rid of it, to keep his pining from emerging in a more horrendous way than usual.

Harry dropped into the sitting room chair. "I thought of something about Yaxley in the shower."

Draco looked up. "What's that?"

"If he went missing in either the winter or spring of 1943, that all coincides with Voldemort having opened the Chamber of Secrets," Harry replied. "Were we to look in the papers from that time period, I have a feeling we'll see Yaxley's disappearance as having something to do with it. We've seen signs that things didn't go how that all did in our universe."

"We have?"

"Hagrid doesn't work at Hogwarts."

Draco hummed. "So he wasn't the one blamed for it."

"We could look through Rosa's papers and find out what happened. We probably have to, don't we? To make sure we do everything right?"

Draco hesitated, thinking. "We don't need to know exactly what happened in 1943. In fact, the less we know, the better—if we want to stay in this universe, anyway."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Would we fuck up the timeline if we know too much?"

"The thing is, everything that's happening now in 1975 is direct result of whatever we do-slash-did in 1943," Draco said. "You know what the Hawthorne effect is, right?"

"Er. . ."

"That people change their behaviour when they're being observed."

"Oh. Didn't know the name, but yeah."

"It applies across time in these sorts of situations." Draco closed his journal. "If we pick an arbitrary time in 1943 based on our current knowledge of the events back then, do what we need to, and then return here, Rosa's newspapers would reflect that."

Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. "They won't if we look first? What does happen if we go back and fuck up the past? We create another universe with a different set of events leading up to 1975?"

"Yes."

"Would Ron go with us?"

Draco shook his head. "A copy of Ron Prewett would, but Weasley himself would remain here."

Harry hummed, sounding nervous.

"It wouldn't risk us losing him, if that's your concern," Draco said. "We have the address for this universe. The only way we would know if we'd created a new one is if in 1943 I checked our current address and it came up different. If we had to leave that point in time for any reason, I would do that as a precaution."

"Okay," Harry slowly said. "So. . ."

"We've seen hints of the past," Draco kept on when Harry trailed off. "Yaxley disappeared in 1943. Hagrid was never blamed for the attacks at Hogwarts, so he finished his education and moved on. Dumbledore remembers us. Other than that, we don't know the difference between what would be the right or wrong actions. We would just do. Follow?"

Harry nodded.

"And by doing, we would default to the right action."

Silence returned as Harry descended into thought.

"So what's there to do before we go?" he asked.

"I'll need to calculate our travel routes," Draco said. "We need a point of entry for there, and then for when we would return here afterward. Our return coordinates will depend on when we leave, so that we can make sure we're out of our future selves' way. We'll also need to alter our cover story. If Dumbledore didn't remember us until he actually saw us, that must mean we had different aliases than what I signed my initial letter to him with."

"Should we might as well go tonight?"

"We could," Draco said with a shrug. "I'm not tired or anything, so we might have a chance to get something done there before calling it a day. We could reach out to Dippet to see about meeting."

"We should eat before we go."

Harry headed into the kitchen with that. Draco watched him dig things out of the ice box and cupboards. He didn't seem happy, and Draco couldn't blame him. He wasn't happy right now either, although increasingly curious about Harry's perspective on everything to do with them. He dreaded the possibility that Harry might concede Draco the point about them being too big of idiots about each other to be capable of rational thought.

"Come dish up," Harry eventually said.

They took seats across from each other at the table. Although Draco didn't really know what to do with himself—if he should look at his plate, retreat to the sitting room, talk shop, or what—Harry had settled on idly studying Draco. Through that, Draco ended up returning it.

"What is it?" he resigned to ask.

Harry cut a piece of his chicken. "Your big concern about us having fucked is that I'm not going to remember it. Right?"

Draco nodded.

"So if you think I'm not going to remember that, then you must not see an issue with giving me some honesty. Because it won't matter, right?"

"I haven't been dishonest. I just can't invest in something that might not matter once this is all over."

"So there are feelings."

Draco opened his mouth, then rapidly shut it. His bottom lip ended up between his teeth.

"You wouldn't care if there weren't," Harry said. "I think you'd be quite content otherwise to fuck me right silly and then lord it over me when I can't remember. Wouldn't you?"

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Draco pinched his cheeks in order to suppress an amused smirk.

"Yeah, figured." Harry smiled briefly when Draco couldn't suppress a snort in time. "Again—do you think I would fuck you without taking that into consideration? Do you think I was oblivious about what was going on between us?"

"I thought you were toying with me, actually," Draco quietly said, pushing his carrots around.

"No."

"How could it possibly be anything else when we haven't even been on this job for a week?"

"It's not just been this week, and I think you know that." Fork down, Harry leaned back in his chair with his arms folded. "I doubt you developed feelings in just this time, and you missed the month prior when I was obsessing about why you got yourself involved with the Death Eaters again. Want a laugh? Ask Ron about it once he's home. 'Bloody hell Harry, this is sixth year all over'."

"God." Draco rubbed his forehead. "Let's not talk about sixth year."

"Point is, there's a bit too much history between us over too long a period of time to say it's just been a week. Maybe things are a bit more obvious now because we're working together on the same side of something for the first time ever. We're stuck together in close quarters, but there's always been something between us. Hasn't there?"

"I can't deny that, although it certainly wasn't positive."

"It didn't have to be, to be there."

"No."

"So just listen to me, and I mean really listen to me," Harry replied. "Fine, let's play worst-case scenario. What's that, exactly? That I don't have any single sort of memory after being Obliviated, everything personal in my journal is scrubbed, and I just ignore how we naturally tend to go with each other. That's what you're afraid of, right?"

As difficult it was, Draco gave the barest of nods.

"Ignoring it takes willingness, and I won't be willing to do that," Harry said. "That's how we ended up in this situation in the first place. Do you want to know what the first four words are in my journal, as far as working with you?"

"What?"

"'Oh no, he's fit'."

Draco snorted into the backs of his fingers.

"So that was already there. I'd also already realized I was wrong about what you'd been up to since the end of the war. You had nothing to do with the Death Eaters. You'd built an entirely new life. I'm going to be curious about it. I already was, in Kingsley's office, and then I'm going to know we managed to sort ourselves out enough to have saved Ron's life together. I'm going to know it was impossible without you. And it's not like we're just going to go back to our lives, and never again shall the two meet. You're still involved in my case because you ended up a victim in it. Your identity was stolen, and criminals squatted in your property."

Draco carefully considered it all. That he couldn't find anywhere to poke a hole kept him quiet.

"I think we both know exactly where all that's going to go," Harry said. "We've already walked that path."

Draco released his bottom lip from his teeth. "It won't bother you that I'll know what happened here, but you won't?"

"No, because I trust you," Harry replied without hesitation. "I wouldn't have fucked you if I didn't. I wouldn't have agreed to be Obliviated, either."

"You didn't have a choice on that if you wanted a hand in making sure Weasley came home."

"I still came here fully aware you'd be able to say whatever you wanted afterward about what happened." Harry leaned on the table again, forearms folded. "If I didn't trust you enough to fuck you, I would have kept everything between us strictly professional. Obliviation pending or not."

Draco made to hum, but it ended as a short sound in his throat.

"You're not the only one that can't just jump into bed with someone that isn't faceless, you know," Harry said. "It's not like either of us have been shy about that."

"No," Draco quietly agreed.

"Just. . .think about it, all right?" Harry picked his fork back up. "You must have realized since we started this job that I don't do half-measures. Once I'm in, I'm all in."

"I certainly can't deny you're one of the most stubborn people I've ever known."

"No, you can't."

The firmness in his tone nodded toward that, making Draco exhale a mirthful spurt of air. His stomach fluttered when his and Harry's gazes happened to meet. Draco's dropped, and he quietly cursed his stupid cheeks for warming into a telltale glow. Balling his free fist against one of them couldn't hide both.

"Think about it," Harry reiterated.

"I will."

A corner of Harry's mouth twitched upward. "Good."

Draco returned to his dinner, as did Harry. The silence between them, although not comfortable, had at least lightened. It was enough to get through the meal, and to concentrate on work. Harry offered to take over cleanup so that Draco could sort out the things necessary for their jump backward through time.

Draco fetched the Spacetime Turner from his room, as well as his journal from the sitting room before setting back up at the kitchen table. Golden runes lit up like an alien clock within the Turner's casing, marking their current location and moment. Draco calculated a point later in the evening from there for their return. While he worked on tracing them into the past, he realized that Harry had finished washing up and was watching him.

"I guess I should pack," Harry spoke when Draco paused to think. "We aren't taking everything, are we?"

"That shouldn't be necessary." Draco glanced up from the equation that bloomed across his journal page. "Some clothes for around the cabin, but we'll get new Unspeakable uniforms."

"It probably wouldn't hurt to bring enough food that we don't have to shop right away."

"It would save us work, certainly."

With that, Harry set back into puttering. He was just bringing a bag out from his room when Draco vanished the runes active on the Spacetime Turner. He closed his journal.

"I won't be five minutes," he said.

Harry had finished sorting out their food and drink situation when Draco emerged. With that, they took a regular Floo connection to the Department of Mysteries' lobby. It being later in the day, not many people milled around. Draco led Harry straight to the travel room. He etched the runes for 1943 into the annulus gap on the floor. When the last one settled into place, brief nausea touched the back of Draco's throat. The room flattened in appearance, and everything fell oddly quiet.

Draco sat down with Harry. Less than a minute later, following the uncomfortable sensation of falling backward, they had shifted thirty-two years into the past. The runes in the annulus faded away, and the room came back into focus. Draco shouldered his bag and led Harry back out into the Department of Mysteries.

He'd aimed for four o'clock in the afternoon, which made for heavier foot traffic. A few Unspeakables discussed weekend plans. Now they'd come far enough into the past, the difference in speech patterns and slang became more noticeable. Personal style changed as well. The Unspeakable uniforms they passed by comprised of a black jumper and matching cape.

A wizard in his mid-sixties named Howell Channing replaced Diana Mathieson behind the front counter in the lobby. He looked up when Draco and Harry approached.

"Good afternoon," Draco greeted him. "Have you the time and date?"

Howell glanced at the small analog clock on his desk. "Three past four on April sixteenth, 1943. It's Friday, if that interests you."

"Cheers."

"When're you coming from?" Howell asked.

"1975. We shouldn't be around for terribly long, but will require accommodations. Is anyone currently staying in the cabin north of Hogsmeade?"

"Don't think so." Howell opened a desk drawer. "I'll check. If you need the equipment room, remember to sign out and return anything you take."

"Of course."

"I'll register you with the Ministry as well, if I could see your wands."

Howell didn't blink at either of their real names, and then wished them a good weekend when they all parted ways. After a brief dip into the equipment room, Draco and Harry were heading again to the Ministry Atrium for departure.

"Bit of déjà vu," Harry commented.

"It's a rather standardized practice," Draco replied.

They Apparated from the Ministry to Hogsmeade Station. After a quick stop at the owl post office to send their request to Professor Dippet about meeting, they headed up the familiar path toward the cabin. A ghost of their old comfortable silence had returned, although Draco could tell Harry had fallen into thought within it. He wondered if that ought to concern him.

"When was that travel room built?" Harry asked.

Draco relaxed. "Not long after Einstein published his special theory of relativity."

"Is that as far back in time as you can travel, then?"

"Within the Department, yes. You can make your own annulus too, if necessary. It's not that special a thing. So long as you know the runes and have a Spacetime Turner, you can go anywhere. Any-when, I suppose."

"Have you ever gone further back than that?"

"A few times, just to do it." Draco shrugged. "The real benefit of the travel room is that you don't just spontaneously appear somewhere. It's isolated away."

Harry slipped his free hand into a coat pocket. "So where would you choose to come out, when you went back beyond that?"

"My chamber at the manor house." Draco couldn't suppress a brief smile of amusement. "It was a bit of a nasty shock the one time, for my teenaged great-great-great-grandfather. It used to be his chamber, and he happened to be in there when I appeared. I just told him that nobody would ever believe him and left."

Harry laughed. "You're such an arsehole."

"I don't believe I've ever denied that."

The cabin's clearing was empty again. Draco dug out the piece of parchment that would reveal the cabin to them. Its exterior had changed, but was otherwise indistinguishable from the one they left behind. Draco took his bag to his room and reemerged with his journal for something to preoccupy himself with. Harry was in the kitchen.

"Tea?" he asked while filling the kettle at the sink.

"I certainly wouldn't mind something to warm me up."

Draco closed his eyes after saying that, for the accidental double entendre. Harry surely caught it, but didn't acknowledge it. He merely finished unpacking all the kitchen stuff, lit the fireplace, and then took his bag to his room. He too returned with his journal, taking up in the sitting room chair. Draco's curiosity toward what he wrote grew to such a degree that he started talking himself out of nicking it in the middle of the night to peruse.

A hoot sounded later, which drew Draco outside. The owl swooped down once Draco had stepped past the boundary of the cabin's Fidelius Charm.

"Ten o'clock tomorrow morning," Draco told Harry when he returned inside. "Dippet will meet us at the front door."

"Is there anything special we need to do to prepare?"

"I don't think so," Draco said. "Just keep to our new story, although we might have to wing it a little from there. Just follow my lead if we start to move beyond a simple tour."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "What all did you come up with for our story, then?"

Not much had been changed. Harry had a bit of a laugh over the new names Draco picked, eventually acquiescing to them in similar manner to going as Scully and Mulder in 1975. An unbidden recollection of Harry saying 'begging suits you' turned Draco quickly quiet as the conversation drew to a close. At least since the day had been artificially lengthened due to their shift into the past, he could pretend that fatigue compelled him to turn in early.

What it really did was afford Draco the opportunity to lay in the dark and think without distraction.

Draco knew what he wanted. Were Harry not to be Obliviated, this would be a no-brainer. Letting himself get carried away only for everything to evaporate into nothing absolutely paralyzed Draco with fear. The problem was, regardless of everything else, it was already too late. Draco had already fucked Harry. If worst came to worst, Draco was going to be hurt. So where was the actual harm in trying or hoping for a more positive outcome?

Harry spoke earlier as if something between them was practically unavoidable. Draco couldn't believe how boldly Harry faced the potential imbalance between them post-Obliviation. He really trusted Draco not to lie about what had happened? Draco wouldn't lie, though—and Harry knew that. Why? Because Harry trusted him to play fair, despite everything Draco had done in the past to prove himself capable of the opposite. If Harry was willing to do that, then how couldn't Draco return the favour? How could he worry that Harry would leave even the slimmest chance of hurting him?

Through all these thoughts circulating, dotted with snippets from earlier conversations, Draco listened to Harry go through the course of ending his day. His bedroom door closing with a quiet thud seemed like it ought to be the end of it. A couple hours of tossing later, and Draco stilled when he heard it open again. His heart quietly pounded as he craned his ears. Harry was back in the kitchen. The kettle started to rattle.

Harry leaned back against the counter, arms folded. He regarded Draco carefully as he emerged.

"Is there enough water in there for two cups?" Draco dipped his chin indicatively at the kettle.

"There should be."

While Harry went about throwing a second bag in the pot, Draco took up a sideways lean against the counter.

"Can't sleep?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head.

"Me neither," Harry quietly said.

Draco chewed on his bottom lip in the silence to follow. "Look."

Harry didn't say anything, but Draco had his attention.

"I'm just going to come out and say this: I'm terrified of being abandoned."

Harry stayed quiet.

"It's happened a lot." Draco toyed with his fingers. "That's not to say I was always innocent in how that came about. I know I'm not the easiest person to get on with. I've probably only gotten worse after spending so much time alone. That said, I can't really deny that a large part of the reason I keep to myself is fear. Nobody can leave if there's nobody to leave."

"Makes sense."

"My father running off was a very humbling experience—one I probably deserved, but it caught me by the jugular." Draco tried to jest with that, but it didn't really come out that way. It didn't land that way, either. "Being that vulnerable is dangerous. It's easier to be left wanting, or to feel unfulfilled. I can handle that. I've learned how to."

"Right."

"It's already too late here." Nerves fluttered in Draco's stomach. "I slipped, and I had a taste. So either way, I'm fucked."

Harry migrated closer.

"I have a potential out in the absolute worst-case scenario," Draco said, "that being you deciding you'd rather have nothing to do with me after you've been Obliviated. There's nothing stopping me from requesting an Obliviation as well."

"What?" Harry blinked before his eyes widened. "Don't you think that's a bit much? What about all your work?"

"Obviously I would get my notes from this job in order first." Draco lightly cleared his throat. "I'm just saying that if this guts me, I have options. And if I have that option, then what's stopping me from getting myself into deeper trouble yet?"

"It doesn't have to be trouble."

"I know." Hope that that was true briefly flickered somewhere close to Draco's heart. "I'm trying to look at this in a way that minimizes risk. I don't want to be this way. Surely you understand."

"I guess."

Draco toyed again with his bottom lip. "That gut memory you spoke of, would its strength after being Obliviated depend on having more experience to draw from?"

Harry hummed, one side of his mouth pulling. "I think it's dependent more on the intensity of the experience. If that's the case, we're kind of already there."

"Are you completely certain on that?" Draco asked. "Would it necessarily hurt to hedge our bets?"

"Well, no."

"I didn't think so." Draco paused. "I'm sorry about earlier. I panicked, and it wasn't fair."

Harry folded his arms and shrugged. "I don't know that I blame you for it."

"Do you still trust me?"

"Yeah." And yet, there was a note of hesitation there. "I just realized through everything today that I don't really know your perspective on all this. We haven't talked about it, I guess because how do you? At this point I don't think either of us is denying a mutual attraction. What I thought was going to happen was we'd finish the job and then let things play out at home like they did here. It was out of respect for you not being Obliviated along with me that I wasn't more heavy-handed. If something was going to happen here, it ought to have been your call."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "You don't think you've been heavy-handed?"

One of Harry's cheeks twitched, and a glint of humour rose in his eye. "Not by my usual standards."

"God." Draco lightly scoffed. "Going off how you fuck, do I even want to know?"

Harry laughed. Although Draco's face burned, he joined in as far as a grin.

"I'm just not used to being subtle." Harry shrugged again. "I haven't bothered with a relationship in a long time, so it's not like my feelings have been on the line. When you're just looking for someone to fuck, it's easier to get what you want if you're up-front. Obviously there's a bit more at play here than that, so I was erring toward professional. I think that would've been hard to stay strict on under any circumstance, since we have history."

Draco nodded.

"I don't know if being professional with each other is salvageable, at this point," Harry replied. "Obviously it doesn't mean we aren't fine to work together. We know the rhythm of it, and I think that comes as naturally to us as anything else."

"It's surprised me far more than once." Draco glanced past Harry when the kettle went quiet, intent to start whistling. "You've surprised me."

"Likewise."

Harry didn't seem to want to peel himself away from the conversation anymore than Draco wanted him to. He set the kettle on a separate burner before returning, closer to Draco this time.

"Are you letting it cool a bit, or did you change your mind about wanting tea?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. "Were you all that set on it?"

"I must confess something," Draco said with the edge of a smirk. "I came out of my room under false pretences."

"I might have suspected. Hoped," Harry corrected himself.

"What were you hoping for, exactly?"

"That you'd sorted yourself out in my favour."

Scoffing, Draco ran his fingertips lightly over Harry's forearm. "Happy, then?"

"Getting there."

Comfortable silence fell as conversation lapsed. A ghost of heat sat in Draco's lower abdomen, glowing as Harry moved closer. He turned Draco so that the counter ledge pressed into his tailbone. With the close press of their bodies, Draco draped his arms over Harry's shoulders as Harry leaned in.

Their earlier urgency was gone. Harry kissed Draco gently, just the way Draco craved it most during the peaks of his pining. His knees felt weak again. Regardless that no space existed between them, Draco didn't feel as though Harry was close enough.

A pair of snorts followed Draco taking Harry's glasses off. He set them on the counter, and then his backside wasn't far behind when Harry scooped him up to seat there. Harry made himself a fresh home between Draco's legs.

They broke apart. Draco's lips were swollen and sensitive enough for his heartbeat to be perceptible through them. He ran a thumb over Harry's bottom lip, smiling when Harry pressed a kiss to the pad.

"Forget the tea," Draco said. "Let's go to bed."

Harry ran his hands over Draco's thighs. "One condition."

"What's that?"

"I won't be alone when I wake up this time."

"You won't." Draco touched his forehead to Harry's. "I promise."