Chapter 17: Full Moon

The cabin interior came into view on the other end of Draco's Floo journey. As Draco could have easily predicted, Harry looked to be in the middle of a pace. He held either side of his neck, frozen with his gaze toward the fireplace. Draco had hardly stepped out onto the hearth rug before he was nearly knocked off his feet.

He laughed. "Well, hello."

Harry only squeezed him harder, which erased Draco's grin. He returned the hug, humour fading out of respect for what he'd just put Harry through.

"I told you I'd be fine," Draco gently told him.

"Yeah, well."

"It went mostly how I expected, if that makes you feel better." Draco pulled back enough to meet Harry's gaze. "Doesn't it?"

"It should."

Stress still lined Harry's face, particularly in his forehead. As he and Draco looked at each other, Harry took a deep breath and exhaled long. Some of the tension in his shoulders relented.

"Sorry," Harry said. "You're back, so—it was just hard not to wonder. That was the first time in thirteen years I missed the connection I used to have with Voldemort."

As consequence of practicing his Occlumency, Draco hadn't fully considered Harry's perspective on all this. Empathy was a given casualty in the process. It didn't really matter that he and Harry had each in their own ways survived Voldemort as teenagers. That was a long time ago, and had been matters of life or death. Draco really could have just put himself on the line, if he was less careful.

Still—it was over. Draco found difficulty feeling uneasy in hindsight for that reason. He kissed Harry anyway, hoping that might chase away the dregs of his distress. Holding either side of Harry's jaw seemed to be key. Draco ran his thumb lightly over Harry's cheek when they separated. When Harry drew his next breath, it had a lighter quality to it.

"So it went all right, then?" Harry asked. "You were able to summon him without difficulty, or anything? What happened that you hadn't expected?"

"Some things we'd prepared for didn't come up, and I learned a couple things from him too. We could go over it all while it's still fresh?"

"Sure."

They moved over to the sitting room sofa, Draco taking up his journal. He wanted to make immediate note of the discrepancies between what he'd planned for and what had actually happened. He hadn't considered that Voldemort would create his Horcruxes because of having met them. Draco had hoped to preemptively explain why Harry wasn't a liability to him. Draco ended up not having to give a reason why they met at Malfoy Manor, in case Voldemort's curiosity strayed toward it.

Harry sat close enough for their sides to press. "I guess we could start with what went to plan?"

"The vast majority of it," Draco replied. "Voldemort understood the logic of the removal story. He was also agreeable toward everything to do with Dumbledore. The prospect of gaining the Elder Wand was a helpful nudge."

"He'll come then, if you summon him?"

"Rather happily. He'll watch the Prophet too, for word if we ended up not needing him. That ought to keep him off our backs in the meantime."

"Okay. . ." Harry scratched his jaw. "And I guess we can assume he won't waste any time if you do end up having to summon him. We'll have to sort out how that'll go. If it's in the event of a trade, we'll have to be at the ready with Disarming and Holding Spells. A Stunner, maybe. If Dumbledore won't stand down, he's going to have to be distracted. That'll be my job, since you'll need access to your wand and Mark."

"Engaging Dumbledore ought to be your job anyway," Draco said. "You have a much better chance than I at holding your own against him."

"I hate to agree for the sake of your pride, but you said it first." Harry managed to smile briefly when Draco shoved him with his shoulder. "All right, so. . .worst-case scenario, Dumbledore gets between us and Ron. We can now offer him a compromise, Ron for Voldemort. If he agrees, we summon Voldemort and pin him down. If Dumbledore doesn't agree, I'll distract him while you summon Voldemort. What exactly happens, in the aftermath of that event? If Voldemort has succeeded with taking Dumbledore out and claiming the Elder Wand, what stops him from turning on us?"

"We won't have dealt with Ron yet," Draco replied. "If he believes that a prophecy will one day come into being with Ron as the subject destined to defeat him, he needs us to properly remove him. Otherwise, sure, he can kill Ron on his own time. He believed that all that would do is change the prophecy from being about Ron to someone else. It's futile."

"So it's in his better interest to keep us alive. . .for a little while longer, anyway." Harry huffed, not quite a scoff. "We'll be long gone before he has the chance to change his mind on that, fortunately."

"Indeed." Draco turning on the sofa ended up with his legs across Harry's lap. "Well, there you have it. We've plotted a murder."

Harry returned to sternness as he raised his eyebrows at Draco. Since Draco showed no actual signs of making light, Harry straightened back out. That ended with him going even more serious.

"I guess we did, didn't we?" he asked.

"Mhm," Draco replied. "Don't feel too terrible about it at this stage. Plotting one is pillow talk. It's when it comes to executing said plot that things become difficult. They become real."

Harry gestured a hand in Draco's direction. "I can't argue you on that, from a place of experience."

"You certainly can't."

"It still doesn't bother you?"

"Maybe if I had to step up and do it this time." Draco shrugged. "We've avoided that, though. It's like I told you: I will always be capable of this degree of harm, and it'll never bother me like it should. Isn't that also the case as an Auror? Haven't the things you once had difficulty with in the job become easier over time?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, then paused. "I guess I can't exactly say this bothers me either. It should, at face value. What exactly did Dumbledore ever do to us? Especially given our relationship to the one back home, this really should hit harder. Plotting anyone's death should. This is the sort of thing I'd toss someone into Azkaban for."

"'At face value' are the key words," Draco said. "It isn't like you and I just crossed paths in our home universe and decided, 'oh, what fun would it be if we found somewhere Dumbledore was still alive and kill him?' We're merely holding to the consensus we reached about how to keep perspective on this job. It's you, me, and Ron, and then everyone else."

"I know. I haven't lost sight of that, or anything."

"Maybe it's that you're not here as an Auror, tripping you up." Draco's fingers found a familiar place in Harry's hair. "You're here on behalf of the Department of Mysteries. We do things a little differently."

One of Harry's eyebrows went up. "Above the law?"

"I thought we'd already established that." Draco smirked. "I also recall that you've been fine with it so far, so long as it ends in us bringing Ron home. Keep in mind, the Ron you know is technically dead right now. He doesn't exist anymore in our universe."

A muscle in Harry's cheek quirked downward. "I know."

"Don't you miss him?"

"Of course I do," Harry said. "This is the longest he and I have spent apart since we still attended Hogwarts."

"Also remember that Dumbledore being killed isn't a certainty," Draco replied. "He will be absolutely fine, so long as he fails to catch a whiff of what we're up to. If he does, the ability to bring the entire war to a halt and save countless lives will be dropped right into his lap. If he says no, what does that say about him? Does someone who thinks that to be the greater moral position deserve to be as renowned as Dumbledore was in our universe? For all he knows, Ron Prewett could die as either result of his decision. Ron might follow in the Prewett footsteps and go into Magical Enforcement. That would put him in constant danger of being offed by some Death Eater as the war gets worse. Were that to happen, what was the purpose of saving his life?

"This decision is now out of our hands," Draco kept on when Harry's pensiveness deepened. "Dumbledore only dies if he chooses to die—and what a stupid choice it would be, by all metrics. We really couldn't have made this easier for him to make the better one."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, although fell quiet for another spell. "Okay, so. . .as far as Dumbledore goes, it's likely he just thinks we're pulling strings in the background through time to help Voldemort ascend to power. If he gets in our way—hm."

"What?"

"It's really not fair if Dumbledore doesn't get to make an informed decision," Harry said. "We did Voldemort the courtesy, even if the story you told him earlier was all made up."

Draco assessed him. "You mean the actual truth?"

Harry nodded.

"Do you honestly think Dumbledore would believe it?"

"Maybe he wouldn't." Harry shrugged. "But it's better than just confronting him with 'give us Ron Prewett, and the wizarding world is safe'. This is especially true if he thinks we're helping Voldemort. Why would we have done all that just to make an about-face now? What was the point? If it doesn't make any sense to him, he'll doubt we're being truthful. He can't make an informed decision, in that case."

Draco pursed his lips in thought. Spilling the Department of Mysteries' secrets—particularly those he specifically had been trusted with—caused Draco more pause than anything else. He didn't worry so much that someone might learn how to travel to his home universe in pursuit of revenge. Nobody here knew its address. They would have better luck finding a needle in an entire hayfield. Rather, Draco would have to divulge this universe's address to Theta in his field report, and it would be audited. It would be discovered that he'd leaked information sensitive enough to require Obliviation.

"I mean. . ." Draco shrugged. "Saving a life has to be a reason good enough to do so. I can definitely make that sort of case, so long as it was a last resort."

"Necessary."

"Yes." Draco glanced down as one of Harry's hands ran along his shin. "All right. So Voldemort has his understanding of events. We found a way to explain our goal to him without having to include dimensional travel. We have him set up as a sort of kill switch if Dumbledore decides to interfere and refuses to step aside. Because Voldemort believes he needs us to remove Ron Prewett from the timeline, his hand is stayed against potentially harming us before we've left this universe for good.

"As for Dumbledore in the event he interferes, he will be given sufficient chance to save his own life. We offer Voldemort. We offer the truth of the matter—which ought to include that we had nothing to do with the origins of this war. It was always going to be this way, so he can't put that on us. That ought to make him more sympathetic."

"You'd hope," Harry agreed.

"I think that about sums up the more extreme contingencies surrounding Ron's extraction," Draco said. "I'm sure I speak for both of us when I say I wish we could have avoided this sort of involvement at all with Dumbledore and Voldemort. It is what it is though, and we're prepared for it. This leaves us free now to discuss the lower stake possibilities for collecting Ron."

"Or we could work on something else for a while," Harry suggested. "We have other things we need to organize before our time runs out here, and other preparations than just the logistics of where and when we grab Ron—especially if you've already come up with some options."

"What other preparations do you reckon we have?"

"I need duelling practice, if I might be going up against Dumbledore."

Draco scoffed. "And you think I'm going to suffice? I'm hardly on your skill level. And by hardly, I mean not at all."

"It's better than sitting around twiddling my thumbs." Harry nudged Draco with a faint smile. "Go on."

"Fine." Draco sighed. "Just let me write everything down about this. Then you may finally have your duel."

Draco drug his feet to the best of his ability. Meeting with Voldemort that morning and then parsing through everything into the afternoon turned out mentally draining. The thick feeling between Draco's ears only worsened, and heading out into warm sunshine did nothing to help it. He twirled his wand between two fingers when standing opposite Harry on the lawn.

"Let's keep it on the simpler side where we can," Harry said. "You can just limit yourself to Disarming Charms and Shield Charms. The important thing is speed. Parry, and then riposte."

"I'll try."

Draco felt more nervous standing opposite Harry than he did Voldemort. Certainly the lack of employed Occlumency in this situation played a factor in his emotions, but Draco also remained very uncertain in his duelling abilities. A silver tongue and firm mind had no application here.

"Ready, then?" Harry asked. "We'll start easy."

Draco lifted his wand, prepared to cast the first Shielding Charm for whatever came his way. Harry started with a Disarming Charm, and it felt for a while as though they passed that same one back and forth. Draco started to get into the rhythm of it all, as did Harry. From there, it almost felt like a quickening trance. Draco was pleased that, by the time he'd weathered a constant barrage of different jinxes and spells, he hadn't ended up on the ground.

"Let's take a break," Harry suggested.

Draco's throat had started to feel dry from the combination of exertion and sunny heat. He and Harry kept on duelling until hunger became too prevalent to ignore. Harry went straight into making dinner while Draco lolled on the sofa, and then they reconvened out in the hammock after Draco cleaned up. As they settled against each other, Draco felt as though he'd been waiting all day for the opportunity to do nothing but indulge in a lazy snog.

He ended up with a leg thrown over Harry's hip, in attempt to get as close as possible. Static from the hammock made Harry's hair stand up, although Draco didn't think he would have even noticed the difference were it not for the pull on his fingers. Some single hairs tried to follow his hand as he scratched Harry's scalp. Draco was rather surprised that he wasn't sleepy enough to close his eyes along with Harry.

"Have you thought any more about your appeal letter?" Draco asked.

Harry hummed before his eyes cracked. "Haven't really been in the right mindset. I'll probably start it tomorrow."

"We have less than five days left here, if we're holding to the full moon for Ron's extraction," Draco said. "Thursday night, Friday morning is it."

"I know," Harry replied. "I'm not procrastinating."

"I'm going to write one too. I made some notes for it yesterday morning." Draco pressed his lips briefly, nerves burgeoning the same way they had then when something occurred to him. "I shifted away from it because we had more immediate things in need of attention, but there's a slight dragon in the room for after we go home."

Harry furrowed his brow. "What's that?"

Draco toyed with Harry's hand where it rested on his knee. "It must be clear to you by now that I haven't really changed since the war."

"I'm rather impressed I haven't heard you call anyone a Mudblood."

"Other than that," Draco said. "I mean as far as atonement or remorse for my actions."

Harry hummed. "You don't at all consider this atonement?"

"Not really. Perhaps an act of atonement doesn't require intention to qualify, but how much can this count when I'm doing the exact same things that landed me in front of the Wizengamot in the first place?" Draco paused. "And how much does it count when you might be the only one who knows what I did here?"

"Does it matter?"

"It might," Draco replied. "Unless you plan on keeping me a secret."

Harry turned his face so that his nose nearly touched Draco's arm. He'd been using it as a pillow with the way they laid. "You mean with the Weasleys, or what?"

"And Andromeda and Teddy, I suppose."

"Who says anyone needs to know the specifics?" Harry asked. "At the end of the day, Ron's life was saved."

"I'm thinking more along the lines of what's expected if anyone confronts me about the war," Draco replied. "They might not all be so pleased at my lack of interest in grovelling. I'll never apologize for the things I did in pursuit for my family's survival—even if my father abandoned me afterward. I stand by what I did, the same way I would stand by everything we've done here, for Ron."

Harry studied him for a moment. "There's nothing you regret?"

"Well. . .a few things." Draco shifted. "I didn't mean for Katie Bell to get cursed, or for Ron to get poisoned during sixth year. They weren't the intended targets, obviously."

"No."

"Those were accidents. Stupid accidents, because I was too scared just to get things with Dumbledore over with. I don't want to apologize for not being capable of murder."

"Regretting that you hurt someone innocent is different," Harry replied. "It isn't like hurting Katie and Ron did anything to get Voldemort off your back. It didn't serve your family's safety."

"I can't take it back," Draco said. "What if they can't look past it?"

"This long after the war. . ." Harry shrugged. "We'll take it as it comes, but I honestly believe you might be overthinking it. I'm not trying to be dismissive, or anything. I just can't see anyone confronting you. Thirteen years later, the best apology you can give is changed behaviour."

"Like plotting Dumbledore's murder again?"

Harry considered Draco. "If there's one thing I can say after going through it alongside you this time, it's that I see things from your perspective. How can I condemn you for having been that loyal to your family when I'm doing the exact same things for mine?"

"I'm not worried about you, though." The breeze brushed some of Draco's hair against his forehead. "I'm concerned your family might not accept me, and then it puts you in an awkward place."

Again, Harry thought about it for a while. "They won't know what you did here. If they did, what could anyone really say when it was to save Ron's life? If they had a problem with you about it, I guess they would have a problem with me too. They would have to say they would rather Ron stayed dead than you and I do something objectively immoral."

"I suppose."

"What they're going to see is what you did for Ron. If you're able to give me the coordinates of where the other Death Eaters are, they're going to know you had a pivotal role in bringing them all in. You've been quietly working for the Ministry since your trial—making use of yourself in not only a constructive way, but a way personally beneficial to them. You aren't going to call Hermione a Mudblood when you cross paths, are you?"

Draco scoffed. "No."

"Not because you know it'd be rude and stupid, but because you don't care about blood status anymore, right? You told me so before we came here."

"I don't care about it anymore, no."

"Building on that, you live in the Muggle world. You obviously interact with them on a regular basis, given you frequent the restaurants and colleges in Oxford. Your stepfather is a Muggle. Add all of that together. . ." Harry shrugged again. "That's the change they're going to see."

Draco toyed with his bottom lip as he considered it all. "I suppose then my only concern is what to say if the war comes up. I can't expect they'll never have questions. It doesn't seem likely we could all just get on when something like that looms overhead."

"You did it for your family. You regret that people were hurt in the process," Harry said. "It's honestly nothing different than what anyone else can say. What matters at this point is that you saw due process and took your freedom as chance to become more than who circumstances back then dictated you be."

"And if they push it? Because, like I said, I'll never say I regret doing anything for my family's safety, and I think it would be really unfair of them to expect it. I regret what was necessary, but who doesn't?"

"I think they'll weigh who you are now as a man far heavier than who you were as a child. War brings out such extra ugliness too. If you and I weren't doing things right now that rang so close to it all, I wouldn't even hardly think you're the same person as who I went to school with. Same haughty personality, obviously, but it turns out that can actually be rather charming."

Draco melted a little at that. His brow felt lighter, as did his stomach after it fluttered. Harry mindlessly running his fingers over Draco's thigh shifted to the forefront of his mind.

"They value my opinion too," Harry said. "They would trust that this didn't happen for nothing."

Draco pursed his lips briefly. "Going into it expecting the worst leaves little room for surprises."

"I get that. Speaking of, what about your mum?" Harry nudged Draco. "You know, unless you're planning on keeping me secret."

"Oh, you won't have any problems. Mum will be delighted," Draco drawled. "Last we ever talked about you, her opinion of you was high. She's been hinting for a few years that I ought to find someone, as well."

"I've been getting that from Molly and Andromeda too."

"So. . ." Draco trailed off with a sideways glance at Harry. "I suppose I'm stating the obvious that that's our intention here?"

Harry smiled softly. "Yeah."

Although Draco stewed with pleasure to have explicitly stated their mutual want for a proper relationship, he had no choice but to return to seriousness. "We still need to get through whatever comes of your Obliviation."

"What all are you putting in your letter?"

"Aside from all the logistical points you raised about whether it's necessary, I thought it probably best to divulge this," Draco said. "I don't want Theta to think I'm hiding anything. I'm going to tell them I would rather not go through all the work and drama of sorting ourselves out on the other side of an Obliviation. I don't want to risk that we not manage, or—if we do—you're missing so much of the foundation we have nothing to build on. It would distress me greatly to know what could have been, to have lost it, and then have to adjust to being without."

Harry was quiet for a little while, his response equally so. "Yeah."

"I've never had a chance with somebody who already knows the worst of me," Draco continued. "Let alone, someone who's still willing to give me a chance despite it."

"It's occurred to me that that's why things have happened so fast here," Harry replied. "If you already know the worst of someone going in, you don't need to worry about any nasty surprises popping up down the line. Unless there's something else that just hasn't come up yet?"

Draco pondered it for a moment. "The only thing to come to mind is that I couldn't give you a body count, if you care about that. No serious relationships make for a lot of casual hookups."

"It would make me a hypocrite if I did care." Harry shrugged. "I wrote myself a note in my journal to delete Grindr off my phone."

Draco snorted, settling closer. "I intend to delete it too."

"You have a phone to delete it from?"

"Mum made me get one when Gabriel got her one," Draco said. "The, er—networking was a fun bonus."

"That's a way to put it."

Draco chuckled on his way in to kiss Harry. He lingered when their lips parted, then decided for a second one. It went on longer, and left Draco feeling a bit flush. Harry was the first to speak afterward.

"If you keep on reading the Prophet or any other rag, you're going to have to just ignore whatever they write about me," he said. "Obviously, the hookup tell-all stories are going to be straight bollocks now. And Ginny and I aren't on-again, off-again. That one seems to make a fresh round whenever we're spotted together in public."

"You'd think now she's married, it would stop."

"Slow press days remain a thing, unfortunately."

Draco's stomach took a small drop. "I suppose they might become interested in me."

"Yeah, that's something you'll want to prepare for." Harry sighed. "Not just because of me, but if you're the one that gives Enforcement what they need to catch the rest of the Death Eaters. I can already see they're going to love that."

Draco grunted. "Maybe I ought to cancel my subscription."

"You'll never regret it." Harry's cheek quirked toward a smile. "Other than that. . .I don't think I've ever done worse than anything you were present for."

Understanding what Harry meant, Draco nodded. The faint scars on his chest had long been noticed and thoroughly discussed.

"Coming back to our appeals," Harry said. "I have an idea for something if I do end up Obliviated, Theta permitting."

"What's that?"

"Memories," Harry replied. "Actual memories, I mean. I could grab a bottle of ink to empty out next time we're at Tomes and Scrolls. It would work well enough to hold them. I remember clearly enough at least one conversation we've had that was strictly personal—no work discussion. Theta wouldn't have an issue with that, right? They could audit that the same way they'll do my journal."

"What would the memory be?"

"When we talked over dinner after the first time we fucked," Harry said. "Well, I talked. You mostly listened. But I think for me to revisit it, it would be good to hear it all come out of my mouth. Do you know what I mean?"

"Sure." Draco paused, thinking. "I clearly recall the one we had later on, when you got back up to make tea. There was no work discussion then, either. Would you want it, if you can have it?"

"Anything that would help, honestly."

Such a productive day made for an early turn-in. Of course, Draco had an ulterior motive following everything they'd talked about, and he had no reason to suspect Harry felt any differently from the way they gravitated together in the bed. Draco also couldn't say it was fatigue that turned them slow and careful with each other. That was also irrelevant toward Draco riding Harry again before breakfast come morning.

Harry saying I could live between your legs kept on repeating in Draco's mind through them eating. Draco had to forcefully let it go when they'd moved over to the sitting room. That Harry erased the entire blackboard turned the mood serious. This was it: the last leg.

"All right." Where their Allies and Adversaries lists had been, Harry started a new To Do list. He wrote Grab Ron during full moon (Thu/Fri) and Finish appeal letters underneath. "What ideas did you come up with, on how to handle Ron's extraction?"

Draco had his journal open across his lap. "We had originally discussed getting him to the travel room at the Ministry, but I don't think that'll be possible. For one, I doubt we have much hope of catching Ron in his Animagus form. We don't even know what that is."

"Fair enough." Harry folded his arms.

"I also can't say I was excited at the prospect of trying to dodge a werewolf in the process," Draco said. "The Ministry just doesn't seem like a good bet, period. We have nowhere to Floo directly to the Department of Mysteries from, since we don't have the authority with the Fidelius Charm to reveal the cabin to Ron. Apparation would only take us as far as the Ministry Atrium, and I sincerely doubt us dragging a kicking and screaming teenager down the lifts would go missed."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "That might gain the wrong attention, yeah."

"Especially if we're running on the assumption that Moody has his eyes peeled for us at the Ministry." Draco skimmed his notes. "So I think our best option is to do like we did with Yaxley: make our own annulus. I was thinking we could do it in the Shrieking Shack. Once Lupin has transformed and they've all left, we could set up. When they all come back in the morning, we could grab Ron and subdue the others."

Humming, Harry pushed his lips all to one side. "I don't know if that would work. We can't guarantee Ron went into the Shack with Remus."

"We can't?"

Harry shook his head. "Peter hit the knot on the Whomping Willow to allow passage, and Sirius would guide Remus back down the tunnel as a dog. My dad's Animagus form was too large to go with. That might also be true of Ron, depending on what he transforms into."

Draco pressed his lips as he returned to his journal. "Damn. I was hoping to stay in the Shack because I don't think it's a place Dumbledore would expect us to be—not with a werewolf present. Dumbledore doesn't know that Lupin left the Shack on the full moons, right?"

"No."

"It's also outside of Hogwarts' Anti-Apparation Charm," Draco said. "I can summon Voldemort there, if need be."

"Well. . .we could still do it in the Shack," Harry replied. "If we held Remus and whoever else when they returned, it would only be a matter of time before the rest came to investigate. We shouldn't have to worry they might run for a teacher first. They wouldn't want to admit they were out in the Shack at all that night. It's a risk we would be taking, though."

"Which. . .we ought to minimize those as much as possible," Draco replied. "Any other ideas?"

Harry set into a slow pace, rubbing his jaw. He eventually stopped. "Their dorm."

"It's inside Hogwarts," Draco countered.

"Sure, but it's easy enough to get in. I did, to get my dad's Cloak," Harry said. "We snuck in for Yaxley. At least this time, we wouldn't have to go through the Forest."

"It's still inside Hogwarts, which means no summoning Voldemort," Draco pointed out. "When we went down into the Chamber of Secrets for Yaxley, we were only actually inside the proper part of the castle for all of two minutes. This would be different. I'd written the suggestion we set things up immediately after Lupin leaves the Shack, to ensure we don't miss the boys on the other side of the full moon. We would be sitting ducks up in their dorm."

"In all the years my dad went galavanting around the Forest with his friends, nobody ever peeked into their dorm. They were never caught," Harry replied. "It might be the safest place to wait out the night. And then Ron is guaranteed to come right to us."

Draco pulled his bottom lip back between his teeth. On a fresh page in his journal, he dashed down the critical points in Harry's argument.

"The Shack and dorm each have pros and cons," Draco eventually said. "Maybe it's not the worst thing in the world that we have options, depending on circumstance. We could set up in the Shack. If Ron doesn't come in with Lupin, we could follow them up to their dorm."

"Do you really want to be that close to Remus once he's transformed?" Harry asked. "We would have to be in the room with him to see if Ron came with, or if it was only Sirius."

Draco made a noise in his throat. He really didn't want to, and he didn't like that he was the one to suggest it.

"If we get caught in their dorm, our choices are substantially narrowed," Draco told Harry. "We wouldn't be able to summon Voldemort, so Dumbledore would have to accept the terms of a trade. Otherwise, if things become dire, the situation arises again where we have to ask ourselves just how far we're willing to go for Ron—what we're willing to do."

"Would we be able to jump ahead in time and try again, if this doesn't work out?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore can't keep an eye on Ron forever. Neither can his parents."

"Dumbledore could turn us over to Moody before we get the chance."

Harry's expression seemed to try to go in two different directions. His respect for authority—particularly the office Moody held—clashed with how at odds he was to it right now. "Don't much fancy that, especially if the Prewetts catch wind."

"The Department of Mysteries wouldn't let us see the inside of Azkaban, but our work here would be done."

"And no Ron to show for it."

"No," Draco quietly confirmed.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, back to pacing. "I guess the Shack it is, then. We might just have to deal with a werewolf."

"Yeah." Draco's volume shrunk further.

"At least there are spells to hide your scent, and things like that," Harry said with a sigh. "We'll just have to be very careful. Maybe we ought to stun Lupin as soon as he comes up. Sirius will have to go down with him. I don't fancy getting bitten by a dog any more than a wolf."

"At least I've been practicing Stunning Spells," Draco replied. "Getting them both is manageable, isn't it?"

"We may have to shoot off two each, if Peter and Ron are with them," Harry mused. "We'd have a couple seconds buffer where they don't realize what happened. But—yeah, this is manageable."

With Ron's extraction so close, Draco started to feel the same sort of restlessness as he had in the days leading up to Yaxley's. There was thankfully no shortage of ways to alleviate that. On top of duelling, Draco and Harry practiced rapid-fire Stunners. Both drafted their appeal letters. On the final trip into Hogsmeade, when they bought the last food they would need until Thursday, Harry picked up the ink bottle he'd intended. It ended up wrapped in one of Harry's jumpers for safekeeping, with two memories roiling inside like glassy smoke.

Waking up on Thursday morning made Draco feel leaden in the bed. The final breakfast was cooked, the last tea bags went into the pot, and Rosa's remaining biscuits were ate. While Harry cleaned up the kitchen, Draco packed his things in the bedroom. His heart felt like it sat in his stomach. He didn't want to leave, and not just because he was nervous for tonight. Days had now turned to hours on learning the outcome of Harry's Obliviation. Draco could at least say that they'd done all they could to prevent it, and—if it happened regardless—they had paved a path for Harry to follow back to him.

Harry brought all his things in from the bathroom. "Doing all right?"

"Ready to get it over with," Draco said.

"Me too."

They went by Floo to the Department of Mysteries, heading straight for the travel room with their things. The coordinates Draco had calculated for a quick trip home brought them out at midnight. The corridor outside the travel room there was dead silent and empty. With a sigh, Draco dug out his appeal letter. Harry found his, as well.

"Here goes nothing," Draco said.

He tapped his letter with his wand, and it disappeared into apparent thin air. He did the same with Harry's letter, journal, and the memories. When the ink bottle had vanished, Draco and Harry drew a collective, deep breath.

"That's done, then," Harry spoke. "Let's dump all this so we can get back."

They went by Floo to Draco's home in Oxford. It had only been about three hours of real-time since they left here. The main area of the house still smelled like the first dinner Harry had made them. If Draco had an appetite, his mouth would be watering again over the garlic bread.

Draco set his bag on the sofa, as did Harry. While Harry balled his Invisibility Cloak inside his Unspeakable uniform, Draco shrunk his journal down to pocket size and hung the Spacetime Turner around his neck. He threw some Blue Floo into the fireplace for Harry, and then followed him back to the Department of Mysteries.

The return coordinates for 1975 brought them out at eight o'clock in the evening. The Department had mostly emptied out for the day. Draco and Harry returned to the cabin as passage into Hogsmeade. Whatever Draco had suppressed to feel about seeing the cabin off that morning came in full force now. It had become so impersonal, with all evidence of Draco and Harry's time spent there spelled clean.

The path into the village was dark under tree cover. They skirted Hogsmeade's edge when it came into sight, and headed for the Shrieking Shack. There, they used Self-Levitation Spells to get up onto the roof. Draco minded the weaker parts, keeping to where he and Harry had marked the boundaries of Hogwarts' Anti-Apparation Charm on an earlier day.

Harry brought his Cloak out. "Come sit."

They took careful seats together at the sturdiest point of the roof. Harry threw the Cloak over both of them, then cast some spells to hide their scents, presence, and any noise they might make. They'd settled in time for sunset. Among all the brilliant red, purple, and deepening blue above hovered the faint full moon.

"Still good?" Harry asked.

"I hate sitting around and waiting for something to happen," Draco replied.

"This is always the worst part." Harry sighed. "Soon enough. It can't be long."

Nodding, Draco tightened his arms around his knees. He didn't really want to talk about it right now, but he already knew what Harry said to be true. Draco was starting to remember a little too vividly how agonizing the wait had been after casting the Dark Mark over the astronomy tower.

He stiffened when a sharp yowl sounded from below. Growling and screaming followed. Draco's heartbeat nearly drowned it all out before Lupin eventually tapered off. A bark sounded, and then all fell quiet. Draco sat immensely still, trying to hear anything else from within the house.

Harry gently nudged Draco. "Let's go."

Draco Apparated straight down through the ceiling into the Shack's single bedroom. The floor creaked under their combined weight when Harry followed, wand similarly drawn. He tossed the Cloak onto the bed.

"I'll check the Shack before we get started," Harry whispered.

Draco nodded, clutching his wand at his side. He didn't really know what to do with himself, so he followed Harry's trail as far as the bedroom door. Draco jumped a little at a figure standing in shadow on the landing, but it was only Harry.

That he stood so still wasn't a good sign. Nerves bloomed in Draco's stomach as he crept up behind. "What's wrong?"

Harry turned his head so that the silhouette of his face became visible. "We aren't alone."

Draco's wand hand trembled. "Who?"

Before Harry could answer, clear footsteps sounded downstairs. They moved leisurely closer. Harry cast a quick, non-verbal charm and nudged Draco back. Their feet didn't make a single sound as they moved toward the wall. Wandlight appeared downstairs. It focused primarily on the opposite wall, bouncing off it just enough to cast shadows of the balustrade on the dark floor.

Whoever approached stopped walking. "I know you're up there."

It was Dumbledore. Draco's stomach fell beyond his knees.

"Why don't you come downstairs?" Dumbledore asked as though he merely greeted them for tea. "I won't take it personally if you keep your wands on me, should it provide you with a sense of comfort."

Harry looked at Draco, and Draco studied him in turn. It was too dark on the landing for a silent conversation. What choice did they have, though? They'd planning for this contingency, even if they didn't expect Dumbledore to be waiting for them in the Shrieking Shack.

Harry leaned closer, and Draco turned his ear. Even speaking directly into it, Harry was barely audible. "Stick to the Apparation lines. Wand out. I'll do the talking."

Draco had no choice but to nod. With that, Harry waved his wand. His steps toward the stairs became audible.

"There are two of us, wands drawn," he called out. "We're coming down."