Chapter Two: Working Holiday

Disclaimer: J. created Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and the whole wizarding world. As much as I adore them and enjoy creating my own adventures for them, they aren't mine. Yes, it hurts. But I think I'll survive. Somehow.

A/N: Thanks to Yolla Bbl for correcting my French in the last chapter. I had several offers to help, which I'm very grateful for.

And when we get there its strictly VIP
No need for ID, security know me
No waiting in line, no high entry fee
Don't worry about nothing when you're beside me

I'll get you lively and loosen you up
Have a bit of champagne, it'll boost you up
I wanna move you up, I wanna take you away
So have a word, darling, what do you say?

Dizzee Rascal - Holiday

After locating a headache potion in the bedside table, Harry headed into the study to begin his research. He Accio'ed the books on healing spells, and was pleased when several volumes flew off the shelves towards him. He levitated them beside a comfortable looking green arm chair, then settled in to read.

A couple of hours later he set aside the latest volume and massaged his temples, attempting to rid himself of his renewed headache.

"You're supposed to be resting." Malfoy's voice was quiet, subdued. It didn't make Harry any less annoyed to hear it.

"I'm trying to figure out how to fix what you did to me," he growled.

"What I did to you?" The confusion in Malfoy's voice grated on his nerves, and he snapped.

"Yes, from whatever spell you cast on me last night!"

Malfoy blinked. "Potter, I only cast Soporificus on you last night."

"Well, then it had an unintended side effect." Harry glared at him, and Malfoy's expression became concerned.

"Are you alright? What is it? Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I kept hoping it would go away, but it's not getting any better. I can't stand this. It's awful!" Harry shouted.

Malfoy paled. "How awful?" he asked in a small voice.

"Let's just say you've paid me back for Sectumsempra'ing you in sixth year!"

Malfoy went even paler. "Oh, Merlin," he whispered. He looked like he was going to be sick, or pass out, and Harry felt a stab of guilt. He let out a long breath, leaned back and closed his eyes. Despite his anger at Malfoy, he knew that he was exaggerating. He was also uncomfortably aware that since the war, Malfoy had made an effort to be a decent human being, and had always tried to be a good partner to him; whereas Harry had done quite the opposite with his former rival.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry." He hesitated. "I shouldn't have said that. It was out of line." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for casting that spell on you, too. I didn't know what it did when I cast it, but I had no business casting an unknown spell at someone like that. I regretted it the moment I saw what it did to you. I should have apologized to you a long time ago, but I didn't really know what to say, and I didn't think you would listen."

He opened his eyes, and met Malfoy's gaze wearily. "The side effects I'm dealing with aren't anywhere near as bad as that. But they're unpleasant, and I've been struggling with them since I woke up. It's made me very irritable."

Malfoy swallowed. He still looked ill, though not as bad as he had at first. He nodded. "I forgive you, Potter. I forgave you a long time ago." He looked at the floor. "It does mean a lot to me to know that you didn't do that to me on purpose, though. And believe me; I had no idea there was any chance of there being any side effects when I used Soporificus on you last night. I wouldn't have done it if I'd known. All I wanted to do was help you sleep."

Harry nodded. "I know, Malfoy. Trust me; if I thought you'd done it on purpose, I'd probably have used an Unforgivable on you by now."

Malfoy grimaced. "I guess that explains why you've been acting so strangely lately."

Harry laughed humourlessly. "Yeah, you could say that. It's also why I'm not going to let you talk me out of researching until I figure out how to fix this thing."

"I wouldn't do that; not now that you've told me. Though I insist on helping you with your research."

Harry shrugged. "Be my guest."

Malfoy took the seat across from him and Accio'ed one of the books from the pile. "What are your symptoms? It'll help if I know what to look for."

Harry retrieved his own book. "It's embarrassing, Malfoy. Just look for possible side effects and let me know if you find any."

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, biting his lower lip. Harry looked down at his book quickly, hoping that his cheeks didn't flush too obviously. Malfoy's lips looked so soft and full; and the image of him biting them made Harry long to be the one taking that plump bottom lip between his teeth.

"I can do that. I'll do whatever it takes to help you." The earnestness in Malfoy's voice surprised Harry. "I'm so sorry that I did… whatever it is that I did to you."

Harry nodded, still staring at the pages of his book. He didn't trust himself to meet Malfoy's eyes. They were just so grey. And if the earnestness in his voice was reflected in his eyes…

Harry cleared his throat and forced himself to continue reading.

"It's late."

Harry blinked up at Malfoy. He'd almost forgotten the blond was there, not even noticing him when he'd tossed aside the book he was reading to grab another one from the pile.

"I'm not done going through these books yet," he responded.

"Actually, I just finished looking through the last one. Absolutely nothing in here about the Soporificus spell, or in any of the other ones. If it's mentioned at all, it only says the same thing we were taught about it in training; nothing new. Nothing that hints at any possible side effects."

Harry glanced down beside his chair and realised Malfoy was right; though he couldn't help being surprised. He hadn't even heard him summoning the books.

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples again, feeling his headache back full force. "I'll have to try looking it up under a different category, then," he said helplessly. "Though fucked if I know what."

"Maybe if you told me what's happened to you I'd have some ideas of how to help," offered Malfoy, and Harry opened his eyes again to glare at him. "Or not." He shrugged. "Either way, you need to go to bed soon, or you'll be too exhausted to get up on time tomorrow."

Harry stared at the floor. He'd rather die than tell Malfoy about the freakish nature of the side effect. He was at rather a loss for what to do otherwise, though.

"Have you thought about writing to Granger, to see if she can help you? I seem to remember she was always the best in your group at research. If anyone can find the answers, it'll be her."

Harry flushed. "She probably won't want to help me, since I'm meant to be relaxing."

Malfoy stared. "She's your friend, Potter. You're suffering spell damage. Of course she'll help you."

"How would I even send her a message, though?"

"The top floor has an owlry."

"That's one big owlry."

Malfoy snorted. "I said the top floor has an owlry, Potter; not the top floor is an owlry. Most of the top floor is an observation deck for star-gazing at night and sunbathing during the day."

"Ah." Harry stood up and stretched. "I guess I'd better write that letter. There's only so much I can do without Hermione's help. There are only so many books in here."

"Actually, Potter," cut in Malfoy, his cheeks pinking a bit. "I feel rather stupid now; but I was so upset at first when I realised I'd hurt you that I wasn't thinking clearly. There's a library on the fifth floor, and an infirmary on the seventh. I'd recommend we go talk to the mediwitches first, and if they can't help us, we can hit the library afterwards."

Harry stared at him. "That would actually help quite a lot, Malfoy. Thank you."

Malfoy's face lit up with pleasure, and Harry had to avert his eyes again. A pleased Malfoy positively glowed.

He's not beautiful, he reminded himself. He's just a stupid, pointy git, and you do not have a crush on him. Not even a little one.

He was made slightly uneasy by how happy his simple, "Thank you" had made Malfoy. He hadn't realized how rude he normally was to the former Slytherin. And while Malfoy stood up for himself and enjoyed ribbing Harry good naturedly, that was the extent of things from his end. No matter how unpleasant he was to Malfoy, Malfoy had never once resorted to the level of immaturity that had plagued their Hogwarts years.

Harry had enough to feel guilty about without adding the guilt of realising he was a jerk to his partner on top of that.

"Why don't we go down to the Hospital Wing now? We can talk to the healers, and that way you'll know where it is for tomorrow."

"Do you think that they might be able to look into it and know more tomorrow, if they don't have any answers tonight?" Harry asked hopefully. He disliked going to see healers, but he was hopeful that they might have some answers. Although there was no way that he was telling any of them anything about his sudden infatuation with Malfoy.

"Maybe. But you need to go there tomorrow regardless, to see the mind healer. She's flooing over from Britain specifically to meet with you."

"No."

Harry felt a surge of anger. "There is no way I'm talking to a mind healer."

Malfoy raised a brow. "You seem to forget that if you want to be a full Auror, you'll need to follow my suggestions. And I believe that you need to see a mind healer."

Harry glared at him, all of his previous good thoughts about his partner dissipating in the face of what felt like a betrayal. "I've learned the hard way that anything I say to a healer is going to end up in the papers. And I really have no interest in being someone's ticket to wealth by providing the material for an expose' on the Saviour of the wizarding world's inner psyche." His voice was bitter and he knew it, but he did hate that Madam Pomfrey was the only person he could see for any medical reason without having the whole thing end up in the press.

Malfoy blinked at him, looking astonished. "But you've been injured plenty of times without it ending up in the papers," he offered.

Harry snorted. "Yeah; I got really good at healing spells. Sometimes Hermione fixes me up. Anything the two of us can't handle, I go to Madam Pomfrey about. It's the only way I can get any privacy."

Malfoy looked outraged. "That's not right!"

"You're telling me," Harry muttered. "But that's the story of my life." He glared at the carpet, still angry because of the associated memories; though he was convinced now that Malfoy wouldn't force him to see the mind healer, now that he knew.

Malfoy touched his arm. "I'm sorry you have to deal with that," he said quietly. "But you should know that the Malfoy and Black family healers take an Unbreakable Vow before treating their patients for the first time, that they will not reveal any details of any conditions or treatments to anyone other than the patients' parents; not unless it is required to save their lives or someone else's. And I've arranged for the Black family's mind healer to see you tomorrow, so she'll be taking that Vow and I'll be serving as your bonder."

Harry stared at the carpet, trying and failing to see a flaw in the plan. If the healer was not capable of betraying his confidence, he would have to see her. And he simply couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow wrong to do so; to admit to such weakness.

"You're still hesitating." Malfoy's voice was quiet, questioning.

"I don't like being seen as weak," Harry blurted, his cheeks flaming even as he did so, from the seeming arrogance of the statement. But it didn't seem to phase Malfoy.

"Of course you don't. No one does. There's nothing wrong with feeling that way. And if it makes you feel any better, I'm the last person who could fault you for seeing a mind healer, since I've seen her myself."

Harry whipped his head up and looked at Malfoy in astonishment. "You?"

Malfoy gave him a withering look. "The dark lord moved into the Manor after the fiasco at the ministry. He assigned me to get death eaters into the school and kill Dumbledore. He forced me to torture people. I had to watch him kill people and feed them to that horrible snake of his. I still have nightmares. I probably needed a mind healer more than anyone else after the war; except for you."

Harry couldn't even be offended by the "except for you" part of Malfoy's speech, because he was too busy feeling shocked by the admissions the blond had made. He looked wary, defensive with his arms crossed; yet somehow still proud. And somehow that made Harry want him more than ever.

I have got to get rid of this ridiculous infatuation.

He nodded, looking away. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll talk to her. Except..." His heart sank as it occurred to him that he couldn't talk to her; not about everything. He closed his eyes, frustration overwhelming him.

"Except?"

"I can't talk to her about everything. I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't tell anyone except for Ron and Hermione."

"He made you take an Unbreakable Vow?"

"No, but... if I ever told anyone, they could use the information to become the next Voldemort. I can't risk it."

"Well, I can assure you that she would never do anything of the kind. She may be a pureblood, and she may have remained neutral during the war, but she's very glad that he's dead now. And if it makes you feel any better, you can add it into the Unbreakable Vow that she will never tell anyone that information; not under any circumstances, and that she will never use it to benefit herself or anyone other than yourself as needed for your healing."

Harry thought long and hard. He couldn't find any fault in Malfoy's plan, and while he didn't really see what harm it would do to leave the Horcruxes out of things, he knew that Hermione had been desperate to get him to agree to see a mind healer on the basis of what had happened in the Forbidden Forest alone. She had been right so often that he figured that since he was seeing a mind healer anyway, it would probably be a good idea to talk about it.

"I suppose I can do that," he said slowly, opening his eyes and meeting Malfoy's gaze. The blond looked relieved.

"Good." Malfoy nodded then motioned to the door. "Why don't we head up to the infirmary now?"

Harry shrugged. "Why not?" He followed his partner out of the study, letting him lead the way to the apparition point. He pretended to himself that he wasn't ogling the blond's arse on the way.

Malfoy spoke to the blonde mediwitch who greeted them in a flurry of French, complete with hand gestures. Harry lounged against the infirmary wall, trying not to feel useless, and trying not to be turned on by Malfoy's smooth baritone rolling out the foreign language. He was only marginally successful at either.

He refused to look at Malfoy, after the first few minutes of gaping at how goddamn attractive Malfoy was when his face and voice were animated like that, his arms making sweeping gestures and his grey eyes alight with enthusiasm. He didn't understand how he could have avoided realising just how incredibly alluring the blond was during the last year that they had been partners. Surely, even when he was straight and not under the influence of a spell gone wrong, he should have noticed that the blond was extremely attractive – from a strictly aesthetic point of view, that is. Not a sexual one.

Harry toyed with the sleeve of his robes and looked around the hospital wing. He had been a little surprised that the resort had its own hospital wing – surely there weren't that many witches and wizards who came here on vacation that fell ill – but Malfoy had explained that the sixth floor below held a series of duelling chambers, and the eighth above was a Quidditch pitch with a high, vaulted ceiling, charmed to mimic the outside sky. Suddenly, a large hospital wing made a lot more sense.

Malfoy had gone over the various amenities with him as they walked back to the apparition point. The fourth floor held an enormous swimming pool – which Harry was simultaneously desperate to use and to avoid; his own desire to go swimming aside, he couldn't squash the burning desire he felt to see Malfoy in swimwear, and just as desperately desired to avoid that situation at any cost. It would doubtless be immensely embarrassing and result in the blond discovering just how Harry's body reacted to his presence.

The third floor was the spa, as he already knew from earlier that day. The ninth was the dining hall, which Malfoy insisted they would visit after talking with the mediwitches. The tenth was a dance floor, which featured live entertainment and elegant, old-fashioned dancing in one of the two rooms, and modern club music in the other. The first floor held the reception area with the floos and check-in counter, and the rest of it was devoted to a series of small shops.

The second floor – theirs – and the eleventh were the only two equipped with suites.

It was one thing to guess that the resort was incredibly huge and posh; it was another thing to be told just how exclusive and luxurious the place actually was. Harry felt completely overwhelmed, uncomfortable, and utterly out of his depth.

The infirmary here looked much the same as the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and that was somewhat comforting. It allowed him the illusion of familiarity in a strange place. He hadn't been here long, and already he was getting annoyed by his inability to communicate with anyone other than Draco. He didn't remember whether the clerk at the check-in had spoken French or English, and while he wondered whether any of the employees there were bilingual, he hadn't had the opportunity so far to find out.

"Monsieur Potter?" A polite, accented voice broke into his reverie, and he looked up, blinking.

"Yes?" He mentally slapped himself. "Uhm, I don't understand French, or speak it. Sorry. At least, not well." Then, giving himself another mental slap, reiterated, "Je suis désolé, mon français n'est pas très bon. Parlez-vous anglais?"

The mediwitch shook her head and smiled. "Zat eez alright, Monsieur Potter. Eef my accent does not bozzer you, we may speak een English."

Harry almost sighed in relief. "It doesn't bother me at all. I'm grateful to be able to talk to someone besides Malfoy. No offense," he added, glancing at his partner.

Malfoy smirked and replied, "None taken. I understand what you mean."

"I just 'ave a few questions for you," the mediwitch continued. "Can you tell me what zees side effects are?"

Harry's jaw tightened. "I'm sorry," he said rather stiffly. "I'm afraid that they're rather embarrassing and personal." Malfoy looked away, feigning disinterest.

The mediwitch raised a brow. "Eef you would like Monsieur Malfoy to leave while we speak-"

"No; I'm very sorry, but I'm not willing to tell you whether he's here or not. Just, if there are any side effects at all that you know of or can discover, that would be very helpful."

The mediwitch frowned disapprovingly. "I cannot 'elp you eef I do not know what to look for, Monsieur Potter."

He forced himself not to glare at her. "If you just look into whether or not there are any side effects, that would be helpful. If you know of anything, or discover anything, then maybe I'll be willing to talk more about it. Until then, I'd prefer to keep it to myself."

"But eef it eez dangerous-"

"It's not dangerous."

Except to my sanity, he added mentally, as the sight of Malfoy rolling his shoulders made his mouth try up and his trousers tighten.

The mediwitch looked unconvinced. "Eef you change your mind..."

"You'll be the first to know," Harry promised her. "Madam...?"

"My name eez 'Ealer Moreau." She fixed him with one last glare that reminded him of Madam Pomfrey. "You 'ad better come 'ere straight away eef anysing changes."

Harry nodded. "I will."

She huffed and, bidding Malfoy farewell, bustled away.

"Good job," Malfoy grinned at him, and Harry's heart almost stopped; because Malfoy leaning against the wall opposite like that in such a casually elegant way, while grinning lopsidedly and displaying a dimple Harry'd never known he had, was wreaking havoc on his composure.

"What?" he asked weakly. He was afraid to step away from the wall. For all he knew, his legs might give out. He wouldn't put it past them to betray him as well; not now that the rest of his body had declared mutiny.

Malfoy jerked his head in Healer Moreau's direction. "Helene is scary when she gets going. You didn't let her intimidate you. I don't know whether to be concerned or impressed." He gave another cheeky grin, and Harry felt his insides turn into a giant puddle of goo.

"Oh. Er, thanks." He flushed deeply, wishing he were more eloquent. His stomach chose that moment to make itself known rather suddenly, insistently, and obviously. He flushed so deeply he almost worried that he was in danger of spontaneous combustion.

Malfoy smothered a laugh. "Let's head to the dining hall, Potter. I can take a hint."

Face burning with shame, Harry followed Malfoy back to the apparition point.

Harry stared at the ceiling in his room. He'd slept well, though he woke early in spite of having a late night – an ingrained habit by now. Between his late wake-up yesterday, the spa, his research, and the subsequent trip to the hospital wing followed by dinner, he and Malfoy had been up into the early hours of the morning.

Despite the fact that Malfoy had (admittedly apologetically) informed him he'd be getting a wake-up call, the blond hadn't showed up yet.

His head swirled with the memories of the night before. They'd chatted over dinner, and Harry was amazed at how comfortable and at ease he felt around Malfoy – when he wasn't feeling overwhelming lust.

Malfoy had changed a lot since their Hogwarts days. He'd grown as a person to an incredible degree. He surprised Harry in many different ways – all of them positive. He was startled to realise he genuinely liked his partner.

Oh, he was still Malfoy – snarky, sarcastic, proud, a little arrogant and sometimes rude. But he was more good natured about it than he'd once been. His sarcastic snark was now more of a biting wit that had Harry in peals of laughter. His pride and arrogance were toned down enough to be bearable – even a little humorous. And he wasn't rude enough to be truly annoying.

Harry had enjoyed Malfoy's company, and had more fun than he'd had in a very, very long time – since before the Battle of Hogwarts. He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so much. It was the best evening he could remember for ages.

They'd talked about everything and nothing, and the evening had ended far too soon for Harry's taste.

None of this boded well for Harry's little crush.

Apparently, his dreams last night had agreed with that sentiment. Harry flushed at the erotic memories and glanced down at himself before casting a wandless cleaning charm.

Great. Just what I needed.

He groaned and turned over to bury his face in the pillow. "Get a grip, Harry," he muttered.

There was a knock at his door, and he remembered his wake-up call, and the impending appointment with the mind healer. He nearly forgot about his problem in the sudden surge of panic that welled up inside of him.

The door opened and he heard Malfoy's voice. "Potter? I'm really sorry about this, but you need to get up now."

Harry peered out from the blankets, eyeing the blond wizard who stood over by his hot tub. Malfoy look gorgeous in black silk pajamas, his hair slightly mussed from sleep. Even though he looked as tired as Harry felt, he was still devastating. As he looked Harry over, his lips twitched.

"You look like a turtle. A turtle with dreadful hair."

Harry scowled and Malfoy laughed.

"A very adorable turtle with dreadful hair," he amended, eyes twinkling.

Harry fought the warring emotions to blush and preen at being called adorable by Malfoy, even in jest, and to flush with the humiliation of being witnessed in such a state by the current object of his fantasies, complete with teasing. He buried his head under the covers again and groaned loudly.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Much as I would like to let you have a lie in, Potter, Healer Jenkins will be arriving in two hours, and you need to get up, get ready, and eat before you see her. So you'll have to get up now; even if I have to pull the covers off you and drag you out of bed by your horrible hair."

Harry harrumphed and pulled his blankets closer. There was a moment of silence, and Harry hoped it meant that Malfoy had left to take care of his morning abolitions before returning to force Harry to prepare to meet the healer. He should have known that his luck was not that good.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," came Malfoy's voice from disturbingly close.

That was all the warning he got before his covers were unceremoniously yanked aside. Malfoy seized his arm and jerked him into a sitting position. The air was cool on his bare torso and he yelped in surprise.

The two of them glared at one another for a few moments before Malfoy's lips began twitching again, and Harry found himself struggling not to laugh.

The sight of Malfoy with tousled hair and rumpled pajamas was such a departure from his usual state – though if anything it made him look even more attractive than usual, damn him – that Harry couldn't help but find it amusing. The normally frigid glare he possessed looked so adorable on him at the moment – like an angry kitten that believes itself to be a lion cub – that he wanted to laugh out loud.

He and Malfoy began snickering, before giving in and laughing boisterously.

"Oh, Merlin! Malfoy; your hair!"

Malfoy snorted. "My hair? Potter, your hair has not only developed a life of its own; it seems to have reproduced and developed its own climate!"

Harry laughed louder, even as he blushed. He'd been told by Hermione during the Horcrux hunt that his bed-head was a sight to behold. He couldn't deny that what Malfoy said was true.

Malfoy suddenly stopped laughing and his eyes widened. "Wait; my hair?" A look of horror passed over his face and he reached up a hand to touch it. He looked around wildly, as if willing a mirror to appear, panic written all over his face. He made as though to dash to Harry's bathroom, and without thinking Harry's hand darted out to seize his arm.

"Malfoy; it's fine. Trust me; the just-rolled-out-of-bed look suits you."

Malfoy calmed down, looking at Harry hopefully. "You think so?"

Harry cleared his throat, trying not to blush too hard. "Er, yeah. It's very..." He didn't know quite what to say. He didn't want to use any of the adjectives that immediately sprang to mind – attractive, alluring, enticing – because he didn't want Malfoy to think he was gay. And he definitely didn't want his partner knowing that he found him desirable.

"Very...?" Malfoy looked equal parts apprehensive and hopeful, and the look just suited him so well that Harry spoke without thinking, again.

"Sexy." He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth, while Malfoy gaped in astonishment at him. He rushed to salvage his dignity. "I mean; if any woman saw you, she'd probably be drooling. You lucky sod." He aimed a half-hearted swing at Malfoy's shoulder, which didn't work very well, seeing as he was still too far up on the bed to reach properly.

Malfoy's expression dissolved into one of pleasure. "You think so?" He sounded so hopeful, and he looked so pleased, Harry found himself nodding against his will.

"Positive."

Malfoy beamed at him, and Harry willed his face not to redden with all his might. It seemed that no matter what expression Malfoy wore, it instantly became Harry's favourite. He cleared his throat and released Malfoy's arm.

"Maybe I should wear my hair like this all the time," the blond mused.

"No!" Malfoy's expression morphed into one of confusion, and Harry hastily added, "I don't really think that's such a good idea."

Malfoy tilted his head. "Why not? I thought you said-"

"It suits you; yeah. When you're in your pajamas, that is. But maybe you'll want to keep the just-shagged look for when you have some lovely girl in your bed, yeah?"

Malfoy turned bright red, and his face fell a little. "Oh. Yeah. Right." He looked away. "I just figured since you said it suited me and since the look works so well for you, maybe I could pull it off, too." He seemed embarrassed, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Harry felt a little guilty, since part of his reluctance to have Malfoy wearing his hair that way regularly stemmed from the desire to keep his raging libido under control. He blushed at the hidden compliment Malfoy had just paid him, and wondered if it was intentional. He took pity on his partner, and tried to come up with an explanation.

"Uhm, thank you. But I really can't do anything about my hair; you can. Not only that, but I'm a much more rumpled, casual person than you are. Messy hair goes with who I am and how I dress. You're very put-together. Well-groomed. Uhm, sophisticated? In your pajamas, or if you were in casual clothes, the messy hair is nice. But when you're dressed like usual? It would look out of place."

Harry stared at his legs, well aware that he was blushing furiously. He picked at a non-existent piece of lint on his sheet. "S'what I think, anyway," he mumbled.

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry's head jerked up in shock and he stared at Malfoy, open-mouthed. Malfoy wore a soft smile, and there was an indefinable look in his eyes that made his insides flutter and squirm with pleasure. Harry tore his gaze away and cleared his throat.

"Uhm. You're, er, welcome. I think." He wasn't exactly sure what Malfoy was thanking him for, and he desperately hoped the blond would leave soon and let him get himself under control before he did something they would both regret.

Like kiss Malfoy.

"Well, now that I see you're up, I'll leave you to get dressed. I'll be in my rooms, getting ready. I think I probably take longer than you do – being so sophisticated and all-" There was amusement in Malfoy's voice, and Harry's blush was back with a vengeance. "-So I'll knock when I'm ready. While you wait, why don't you draft that letter to Granger, since we didn't get a chance to go to the owlry last night?"

Harry nodded, still staring at the floor. He didn't look up until he heard the door close behind Malfoy.

"Oh 'Mione," he whispered. "I really need your help."

He dressed hurriedly, then went into the study and rummaged through the desk for parchment and a quill. He sat down and struggled to decide what to say.

'Mione,

I know I'm supposed to be relaxing on this holiday – and believe me, I'm trying – but I really need your help researching something.

See, Malfoy cast Soporificus on me the first night, and ever since I woke up I've been struggling with some very embarrassing and uncomfortable side effects. We're trying to figure out what went wrong, since that's the only spell he cast on me and I hadn't taken any potions or anything before it started, but we have limited resources here and your help would be invaluable.

I really don't want to talk about what the side effects are; so can you just search to see if you can find anything that could possibly go wrong with that spell?

I really, really appreciate it.

I miss you and Ron. I know I haven't been a very good friend lately; I've been keeping myself so busy I haven't had any time for you guys. When I get back, I'll try to change that. You two are too important to me for me to let you fade out of my life.

I think you'll be happy to hear that I'm going to be seeing a mind healer. Malfoy believes that I need to talk to someone. Since I can't come back until he says I'm better, I don't really have much choice. And since you've been at me to see one for ages, I figured that it's probably a good idea.

She's going to take a couple of unbreakable vows that will bind her to complete secrecy and prevent her from using the information about the Horcruxes in any way. I'll be able to tell her everything that way.

I love you. You're my best friend and my sister. I hope you know that.

Harry

Harry stared at the parchment before rolling it up and sealing it. He sat back for a moment, then reached back into the desk and pulled out a few more pieces of parchment.

Ron,

I've been a complete and utter prat. You and your family have gone through so much since the final battle, and I haven't been there for any of you.

Yet you've stayed my friend, no matter how inconsiderate and selfish I've been.

I'm trying to get better. I won't make any promises I can't keep; for all I know as soon as I get back I could slide right back into the way I was before I left, but I promise to try. Both while I'm here and when I come home.

You're the best best mate a guy could ask for, and I hope you know that.

You're my brother, in all but blood.

Harry

Harry drafted up a letter to Ginny, apologizing for the way he ended things with her, and explaining that he was too broken to be with anyone, but he would always value her as a sister, and hoped that in time she could see him as another brother.

He wrote to Molly and Arthur, apologizing for not being with them as they struggled to cope with the aftermath of the war, and the loss of part of their family. He told them they were the closest thing to parents he'd ever had, and how much he regretted not being more like a son to them in the hardest time of their lives.

He wrote to George, asking him how he was doing, apologizing for not being around more. He asked about the shop and the new products. He offered his help after he returned to Britain.

He wrote to Percy, telling him how proud he was of the way he'd humbled himself enough to come back to his family and fight with them in the final battle, and for giving up his beloved Ministry job to work with George at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He told him how much he admired him for giving up his dream to help his brother survive the loss of his twin.

He wrote Neville, Luna, Bill, and Charlie; asking after their lives and offering apologies for being absent. After finishing them and rolling them all up, he took a deep breath and started on his last piece of parchment.

Andromeda,

I know you're probably angry with me for not being there for you and Teddy. I'm his godfather, and I've left you all alone to deal with your grief and to care for a baby. It's inexcusable and I'm so very sorry.

I've been so horrible and selfish; I understand if you can't forgive me. But if you're willing to give me another chance, I want to try to be there for both of you. I want to be a part of Teddy's life. I want to be for him what Sirius wanted to be for me but never had the chance to be.

I've been forced to take a holiday for my health, and having the time to think without the distraction of constant work has made me face a few ugly truths about myself.

How are you? You've suffered so much. The last time we spoke – almost a year ago now – you told me you wanted to try to reconcile with Narcissa, since she and her son are the only family you have left besides Teddy. Have you been able to do that?

I don't know if you know or not, but Draco Malfoy – your nephew – is my Auror partner. He's changed a great deal in the aftermath of the war, and he's actually become a good person. Even if you haven't been able to reconcile with Narcissa, I'm sure that he would be happy to get to know you and Teddy.

He's actually in charge of my recovery right now, and he's insisted I see a mind healer. Hopefully it helps me get over the issues that have held me back from being there for the people who matter to me.

You're family to me. You and Teddy both. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I haven't treated you that way, and I hope you're willing to let me make it up to you.

If you're willing, I'll come and see you as soon as I get back to London. I'll visit you two even before Ron and Hermione.

Take care until then,

Harry

Harry rolled up and sealed that last letter, then sat in the chair with his head bowed. His heart ached and he felt deeply ashamed and confused. He knew that he shouldn't have been neglecting the people that were important to him, but he also knew that he needed to pour all of his effort into it if he was going to help round up the remaining death eaters and keep his loved ones safe. That if he was going to atone for the lives he hadn't saved, he needed to do everything in his power to take down evil. He had no idea how he was supposed to balance the two.

He closed his eyes and waited for Malfoy's knock, swimming in guilt and helplessness.