So, recently I've gotten some annoying, rather long messages in the reviews section of all my stories. Always the same–the beginning of a Drarry-bashing fic. Whatever. I can handle that. I just deleted them.

Then I got another one threatening to hack my account and spread my personal info. The best part is that the chicken shit who's sending the messages is doing it anonymously. So, I can't even report them or tell the motherfucking coward off. He's probably a pimply-faced, tiny-dicked teen who masturbates to Fanfiction. Again, whatever. Sorry for the rant to the rest of you.

On another note, I went through a different story to clean up the spelling/grammar, etc. Unfortunately, FanFiction sent notifications that there was an update, which, technically there wasn't. Now people are pissed off at me for that.

I'll finish this story here, but it'll probably be the last one. I've been working on a new Drarry but I'll post elsewhere. People here are just too negative toward authors who are simply trying to provide some light entertainment.

I do thank wholeheartedly the many kind readers who have read and reviewed over the nine years I've been here.

Harry tried to stretch as he slowly came out of his sleep. A twinge in his neck caused him to groan. He opened his eyes to find that he was still in Draco's hospital room. His hand was still holding Draco's.

He sat up, wiping a bit of drool from his lip.

"Potter, what the hell are you doing here?"

Fuck. Harry looked up to see Shacklebolt and Ron standing in the doorway. Draco's hand gave his a squeeze, drawing his attention away from the Minister. Draco smiled softly.

Kingsley strode into the room, imposing a man as he was, causing Harry to let go of Draco's hand and stand.

"I thought I told you to go home last night," Kingsley said.

"I . . . I only meant to stay a moment to make sure Draco was all right."

"You need to leave so I can question the witness."

Harry nodded.

"He can stay," said Draco weakly.

"That would be inappropriate," Shacklebolt told him.

"Just tell the truth, Draco. Tell him the whole truth, even if you think it might hurt me. Promise me," Harry implored.

Draco solemnly nodded.

Harry left the room and sat in a chair in the hallway. Though he worried that Draco's side of their experience would be very different from his own, Harry was sincere in his desire for Draco to tell the truth. If Harry had compelled him to engage in an intimate relationship, he wanted to know. He wanted to make it right.

He was surprised when Ron joined him.

"That was quick." Harry frowned.

"Shacklebolt thought Malfoy would talk more freely if I wasn't there," Ron said.

"That's probably true."

"What did you end up telling Shacklebolt?"

"The truth," Harry said.

"All of it?"

"Yeah. Well, not at first. But then, off the record I told him about my feelings for Draco and . . . what we did." Harry leaned over, head in hands.

"Oh, shite. Did you get sacked?"

"Worse."

Pursing his lips, Ron asked, "What's worse than getting sacked?"

Harry scoffed. "Kingsley thinks I used my position to coerce Draco. He's talking to Draco to find out if he wants to press charges against me. What am I going to do? What if I did what Kingsley said, and Draco hates me for it?"

"No way. Mate, I saw the way Malfoy looked at you."

"Victims of trauma can transfer their emotions from one person to another, particularly a caregiver," Harry said, trying to recall Shacklebolt's exact words.

"Bullshit."

"No, it really is a thing," Harry said.

"I mean bullshit regarding Malfoy. This didn't just happen."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean . . . I can't believe I'm going to tell you this," Ron said. He scratched his neck, then his head. He appeared to be procrastinating.

"Out with it," Harry urged.

"Fine. I always thought there was something curious about the two of you."

"Curious?"

"Something contradictory."

"Well, yeah. We fought all the time. He was a right prick to me. And to you and Hermione."

"But that's what I mean. You always fought and argued. And, at the same time, I'd notice you watching him. Or him watching you."

Harry gave him a blank stare. That was not news.

"In a longing sort of way," Ron added. "You didn't look like you hated each other. You looked like you wanted to rip each other's clothes off." He blushed.

"What? No. I–"

"Mate."

Harry slumped in his chair, chuckling a bit to himself. "You know, I made fun of the way he looked back then. But it irked me something awful that I found him attractive. I hadn't been able to admit that to myself. He was a git. He was an enemy. He was a boy. How could I possibly think he was attractive?"

Ron laughed. "I think Hermione probably thought the exact same thing about me."

"Shite, if I looked at Draco the way you looked at Hermione, I'm sure everyone knew."

"What? I wasn't all Mooney-eyed like you two."

"Ron, you and Hermione were literally the only two people who didn't know you fancied each other. Except Dumbledore. He once asked me if there was anything between me and Hermione."

"He did?"

"Yeah, it was awkward."

Just then, the click of heels came from down the hall. Harry and Ron turned to see Narcissa Malfoy coming toward them. Harry stood to greet her.

"Mr. Potter." She nodded. She barely spared a glance at Ron. "Is Draco awake?"

"Yes. Minister Shacklebolt is questioning him," Harry answered.

"Questioning him about what, precisely?"

"Me, probably. And about the attack last night. Has Draco mentioned anything about me to you?"

Narcissa looked him in the eye. "Many things."

"Oh." Harry glanced at Ron. He looked equally unsure of Narcissa's meaning. "Um, how are you holding up, Mrs. Malfoy? I'm very sorry for your loss. Is there anything I can do for you and Draco?"

"I think you've done enough, thank you." Narcissa turned and pushed the door to Draco's room open. Before stepping through, she said, "We are laying Lucius to rest the day after tomorrow."

Plopping himself down in the chair, Harry again cradled his head in his hands.

"She fucking hates me."

"You don't know that for sure. Isn't she always sort of cold and stuck-up?"

"I suppose. But I let her husband get murdered. I may have hated the bastard, but I didn't want him to die. He was turning himself in."

"I'm sure she knows it wasn't your fault. Shacklebolt will explain it." Ron paused. "But maybe you ought to give them some space, mate. Let them bury him in peace. You know what they say anyway, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Or forgetful." Harry rubbed at his sore neck. "I suppose you're right. A few days apart might make things a bit clearer for both of us."

hdhdhd

When Shacklebolt emerged from Draco's hospital room, he obviously hadn't expected Harry to still be there. The man looked frustrated.

"What do you not understand in the words, go home Harry?"

"I wanted to find out how the interview went."

"You wanted to find out if he's pressing charges."

"Is he?"

Kingsley shook his head. "He didn't admit to any sort of relationship between the two of you. As far as the Ministry is concerned, that matter is closed."

"He didn't say anything about me?"

"Just that you treated him well and saved him from Dawlish."

"Did he explain why he was in my room last night?"

Shacklebolt shrugged. "He told me he left something in there when Auror Weasley made him leave on such short notice."

Frowning, Harry wished Draco hadn't tried to protect him. On the other hand, he worried that Draco didn't own up to a relationship because he regretted it. He needed to talk to Draco.

"And the reprimand?" Harry asked.

"Stays. You've admitted to getting emotionally attached to your charge. It doesn't matter that Mr. Malfoy has denied it. And you're still suspended."

"What's going to happen to Dawlish? Did he say why he did it?"

"He's going before the Wizengamot tomorrow. Aurors Rhodes and Bakersfield are taking his statement this afternoon." Kingsley paused. "He appears to have snapped. When Voldemort was in power, Dawlish had a series of misfortunes. One of which, was blindly following Imperiused leaders. He had also been injured, and relegated to desk duty. It seems he was trying to regain his reputation and grow his career when I initiated the Clemency Program for Death Eaters looking for a fresh start. Dawlish thought they had ruined his life and didn't deserve clemency. Somehow, in his mind, he thought he would be rewarded for doing away with Death Eaters rather than bring them to proper justice."

"It's ironic that he's going to get punished while Death Eaters are getting a second chance," Harry said.

"Don't forget that he tried to kill you as well."

Harry nodded. But what angered him was that Dawlish tried to kill Draco, and very nearly succeeded. He wanted so badly to go and check up on Draco. He hadn't a chance to say much to him before Shacklebolt kicked him out.

"Harry, despite the fact that Mr. Malfoy doesn't think you've behaved improperly, the Auror handbook does. Let me make myself perfectly clear. You are not to speak to Draco Malfoy before the Wizengamot has concluded Dawlish's trial. Do not visit his hospital room. Do not visit his home. Do not floo call him. Do not send him an Owl. If you see him out in public, make certain he doesn't see you."

"But what if Draco–

"Am I making myself understood?" Kingsley said, slowly and deliberately.

"Yes, sir."

Shacklebolt took a moment to glare at Harry to make his point, then turned on his heel and stomped away.

"Crikey," Ron said. "He didn't leave you any leeway. Good thing you decided to stay away from Malfoy already."

Harry chuckled. "Except that I was already second-guessing that. I need to know if he's okay."

Ron grabbed him by the upper arm. "Don't do it." "What would you do if it was Hermione?"

Ron stared at him blankly. "You're not seriously comparing my relationship with Hermione to this thing with Malfoy."

"Thing? You even said yourself that you thought there was something between us back in school."

"Yeah. Lust. Wanting to fuck someone's brains out isn't the same as a deep friendship that blossoms into true love."

For a moment Harry just looked at him. Then, he laughed out loud. "What the hell happened to you?" He put a hand to Ron's forehead. "You feeling alright?"

Ron swatted the hand away. "Fuck off." He started to stalk away.

"Ron, wait," Harry called. "I was only taking the piss. I know what you and Hermione have is special. Frankly, I'm a bit jealous." He caught up to Ron as they left St. Mungo's.

Ron snorted in a way similar to the way Draco always did.

"Really. The two of you have a history filled with fond memories. All Draco and I have are ferret face and Potter stinks."

"Yeah, well, you said he's a completely different person now. If you believe that, then make new memories. Let go of the past."

Harry's brow furrowed as he smiled. "How did you get so smart?"

"Maybe I've always been smart. It's just that you and Hermione are fucking brilliant."

"Hermione maybe. If I was so brilliant I wouldn't have gotten myself in the predicament I'm in. What if Kingsley is wrong and Draco actually wants to see me? How can I stay away?"

Harry stopped short of the threshold to the exit.

"Wait, you're being awfully cool about this. Does that mean you approve?"

Ron sighed. "Like I said, I saw the way Malfoy looked at you. How can I deny you that just because it makes me a little uncomfortable. And not because he's a bloke." Ron pointed at Harry. "You know that never mattered to me and Mione."

With a grin on his face, Harry continued outside. "I know."

"Hermione and I talked about it this morning. We want you to be happy. If Malfoy makes you happy, we'll try to keep an open mind."

"Brilliant. I only hope I make him happy. Otherwise, my feeling don't really matter."

hdhdhd

Two days later, Harry found himself standing in the rain watching the meager Malfoy family inter Lucius' body in the family mausoleum on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. It nearly killed him to watch as Draco once again cried in anguish over losing his father. Narcissa let a few tears loose, stoically refusing to wipe them away. She put her arm around Draco's shoulder while a couple of people Harry had never seen tossed handfuls of rose petals onto the casket.

A few inspirational words were spoken by a man Harry assumed to be a member of clergy. Then two house elves used magic to lift and slide Lucius' casket into its final resting place. One of them fastened a plaque to the wall memorializing Lucius' short existence on Earth.

Even Harry wasn't immune to the sorrow and gloom that hung over the entire estate. Though his tears were more in response to his heartbroken lover's grief, and the fact that he could not comfort him.

Under his invisibility cloak, Harry followed the mourners toward the Manor's entrance.

"Why didn't he come?" Draco asked Narcissa. "Are you certain you told him today?"

"Yes, dear. I cautioned you about getting your hopes up. You were living a fantasy. The reality is that we are on our own."

"But I was certain he'd come."

Harry stopped walking. He couldn't bear to listen any longer. He silently cursed Shacklebolt for keeping him away. Turning back toward the mausoleum, he took out his wand, casting a nonverbal Orchideous charm. Harry could only hope that Draco might figure out that it was Harry who left the bouquet of Lilies.

hdhdhd

"Please, Ron," Harry begged.

"No. Shacklebolt gave me the same orders," Ron answered through the floo. "Do you think he didn't realized you'd ask me to talk to Malfoy for you?"

"But he thinks I don't care. Or maybe he doesn't actually care about me. I can't even go to work to take my mind off it. I'm going stir crazy not having something to do."

"The Wizengamot is meeting again today. Rumor is, they're making a decision on Dawlish's fate."

"Thank Merlin." Harry sighed. "It's been four days. What's taken so long?"

"I heard from Rhodes that some of the Wizengamot members wanted to send him to the Janus Thickey Ward instead of Azkaban."

"Is he claiming temporary insanity?"

"I don't now if it's temporary," Ron said. "He keeps asking to speak to Minister Fudge. Saying he can clear everything up."

"How?"

"He thinks the old coot is still the Minister for Magic. And he says he was ordered to kill Death Eaters by Fudge." "Does anyone even know where Fudge is?" asked Harry.

Ron shrugged. "It's all fucked up. I'm no lover of Death Eaters, but I don't think Dawlish should get away with flat out murder."

By the end of the day, Shacklebolt had called Harry, Ron, Rhodes, and the other Aurors directly involved with the case into his office.

"I've just gotten word," he began, "that John Dawlish has been committed to the Janus Thickey Ward."

Several of them groaned and Kingsley put up a hand.

"He'll be evaluated there for the next month. If he's deemed insane, he'll stay. If not, he'll be sent to Azkaban."

"It took four days to come up with that?" Harry scoffed.

Shacklebolt scowled. "Dawlish is an Auror. This is a sensitive case. When the public finds out, our whole department will be under scrutiny. I may begin psychiatric evaluations on all employees of the Ministry."

"That sounds dangerously similar to the evaluations Thickness performed," Ron mumbled.

"Watch yourself Mr. Weasley," Kingsley warned. "But I understand your concern. My objective is only to identify anyone who feels they need counseling. The war was difficult for most of us. And we've been so busy rebuilding and restructuring, we haven't taken the proper time to heal emotionally."

The Aurors all nodded. If it prevented someone else in the Ministry from going off the deep end, it may be worth it.

After the other Aurors left, Harry lingered in Shacklebolt's office.

"Something else I can do for you Harry?" Kingsley asked wearily. "There are still three days left on your suspension."

"I know. That's not what I wanted to ask you about though." Harry paused. "Am I allowed to talk to Draco now?"

Kingsley sighed heavily. "I suppose there really isn't anything I can do to stop you. Has he reached out to you?"

"Um, no." It was difficult for Harry to admit that perhaps Draco had decided their time together was a fling and nothing more.

"Harry," Kingsley leaned forward on his desk. "Is it possible you simply got caught up in guarding your witness? You felt protective of him, and therefor, felt a connection. The two of you spent a great deal of time together."

Scratching his head, Harry said, "The thought had crossed my mind. That very well may be the case for Draco. But my feelings haven't changed. This might sound crazy, but I feel that it's fate, the way things turned out."

"Best of luck, then." Shacklebolt's expression softened. Harry hurried out, intending to go straight to Draco. He was a bit apprehensive about going to the Manor, however. Narcissa's icy reception at their last meeting, and the words she said to Draco at the funeral led Harry to believe she didn't approve of their relationship. He'd much prefer to meet Draco without his mother. Perhaps an owl to invite Draco out somewhere would do. Then again, Harry had waited four days already. He couldn't wait another minute.

hdhdhd

A light rain had begun to fall as Harry stood outside the gate of Malfoy Manor. It was locked, of course, but there was a bell to ring. A young house elf quickly appeared just inside the gate.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Please state your business."

The elf had clearly practiced her lines well.

"My name is Harry Potter and I'd like to speak to Draco please."

The elf's eyes went wide as she gave a low bow. "Mister Harry Potter," she whispered, then was gone.

"Great." Harry sighed. He didn't know if she was in awe of him or if she was ordered to ignore him.

A moment later, she returned. With a snap of her fingers, the gate opened and the wards shimmered. "This way."

She led him up the long paved pathway to the front door. The elf opened the large, ornate door and pushed it open enough to let Harry through. When he stepped over the threshold, he was struck by the way the entrance hall had been transformed since the last time he saw it. The only time, really.

He heard the familiar clicking of heels down the hall and groaned inwardly. Narcissa probably intended to dissuade Harry from talking to Draco.

To his surprise, the pair of them arrived together. Harry was afraid to speak first. Draco appeared crestfallen. His beautiful grey eyes were bloodshot, presumably from crying. It took everything Harry had not to take him in his arms to comfort him.

"Mr. Potter." Narcissa nodded curtly. "This is an unexpected visit."

"Uh, I apologize for not Owling first. I need to speak with Draco."

Narcissa looked to her son, who currently looking at the floor. "I don't think my son is up to visitors at the moment."

"It's all right, Mother. Let Harry get it over with."

Caressing the side of his cheek, Narcissa said, "I'll be serving tea in the sitting room." As she walked away, the click of her heels seemed less irritated.

Draco glanced up at Harry, then quickly away.

"How are you and your mother holding up?" Harry asked. "Regarding your father, I mean. I truly am sorry for what happened. Dawlish will be punished. But I suppose that's not much of a consolation."

"No."

They were awkwardly silent for a few more moments.

"Is this really where you want to talk?" Harry was hoping for physical comfort at least if there was a chance the conversation would be emotionally painful.

Draco sighed. "We can go to the conservatory."

Harry followed Draco through the dining room, then down the hall, past the library and servants' quarters, and finally to the conservatory. Inside, hundreds of flowering plants and bushes in myriad colors filled the glass room. It was a bit warmer in there. And the perfume of the roses made Harry feel calmer.

Draco gestured for Harry to sit on a crushed velvet cushioned settee for two. But he took the chair opposite for himself.

"Kingsley forbade me from contacting you while Dawlish was still being interviewed. He was finally sentenced this afternoon."

"Is he going to Azkaban?"

"I'm afraid not. Yet," Harry added. "They're sending him to St. Mungo's. They believe him to be mentally ill."

"Well of course he is. What sane person goes around murdering people?"

Harry's first thought went to Voldemort, who was clearly mentally ill. He also took Draco's statement to mean that his father, though a willing Death Eater, had never committed cold-blooded murder himself.

"I keep going back to that night," Harry said. "I keep wishing I had seen Dawlish earlier. It was supposed to be a routine intake. "

"It happened so quickly. I don't know if there was anything you could have done."

"But I still wish I could have saved your father."

"Then you and I wouldn't have had to go on the run," Draco said.

"Right." Harry bit his lip. Was that Draco's way of saying he regretted getting close to Harry?

They sat quietly for a while. Harry gazed at Draco, but Draco kept his eyes on the floor. Harry was beginning to think coming to see him was a bad idea. Neither of them seemed willing to be the first to bring up their budding romance on the run. Harry stood.

"Maybe it would be best for me to leave you alone."

Harry had taken a few steps toward the door when Draco finally spoke. "Why didn't you come?"

Harry turned around. "What?"

"You didn't come to the funeral. I needed you. You said you cared. But you didn't come."

"But I did."

Draco scoffed. "If you think you can claim to be hidden amongst the many mourners, you'll have to come up with a better lie."

"I was here. Well, I was at the mausoleum. Under my invisibility cloak."

Draco shook his head. "That's a terrible lie."

"It's true. There were only about seven of you, including the two house elves," Harry said.

"How did you . . ."

"I told you, I was here. Against Kingsley's orders. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to comfort you." Harry decided to be the first to declare his feelings. "I do care for you. Very much. And I need to know if you feel the same way. You didn't try to contact me."

"Weasley told me it would be in your best interest if I didn't. I assumed that meant because I'm a Death Eater."

Harry chuckled. "I think that was Ron's way of protecting me from myself. I've already gotten a reprimand and a suspension. Ron knew if you came to me, I wouldn't turn you away."

"You got in trouble because of me?"

"It was worth it. But it wasn't your fault. I should have been more patient and waited until the case was solved."

Draco stood. "So, you really do want to carry on and see where this leads?"

"Very much so. I've missed seeing you every day. I've missed your sarcasm and humor. Listening to your stories. Watching you try to fit into the Muggle world." Harry laughed.

"I think I did quite well," Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You did."

Narcissa walked in, raising an eyebrow. "I can't imagine how."

"He bought Muggle clothes," Harry told her. "And ate Muggle food. And, oh–" He pulled a pouch from his pocket and held it out for her. "I almost forgot. These are yours."

"Mine? What could you possibly have of mine?" She asked.

"What did you do?" asked Draco.

Narcissa pulled out a necklace, a bracelet and pair of earrings from the pouch.

"They sold the other necklace, so I couldn't get it back," Harry said. "I'm sorry."

"Draco darling, can you explain why Mr. Potter has my jewelry?"

Draco blushed. "I . . . borrowed some of the jewels you left behind and sold them. You weren't home, and Harry and I needed money to live. He took me to a pawn shop."

Narcissa gasped. "You didn't even go to a reputable antique dealer?"

"Time was of the essence." Draco looked to Harry. "But you got them back."

"Then I suppose I should thank you." Narcissa dropped the trinkets back into the pouch. "Would you like to stay for tea?"

"Yes." Too late, Harry looked to Draco, who still hadn't actually said he wanted to carry on their relationship as well. "If it's all right with you, that is."

"Of course," he answered quietly.

"Clara," Narcissa called out. The house elf winked into existence. "Bring my tea here for service. And add two more place settings."

"Yes Mistress." The elf blinked away mid-bow.

When she returned, she had an over-sized silver tray filled with biscuits, a tall, elegant tea pot and three delicate porcelain teacups. The small elf used magic to pour out and send each cup to waiting hands. "Will there be anything else, Mistress?" She bowed low.

"Nothing for now."

Before Narcissa finished her sentence, the elf was gone.

"She's still so high-strung," Draco observed.

Harry let out a small sigh. He had really hoped to speak to Draco alone. He couldn't be expected to bare his soul in front of Draco's mother. Then again, Harry supposed Draco didn't want to do that either.

Well, was he a Gryffindor or not?

"So, um, Draco." Harry cleared his throat. "Would you, uh, like to go to supper? With me. Tonight."

"I thought you'd never ask." Draco stood. "Is now too soon?"

Harry shook his head.

Draco grabbed his hand, barely giving Harry time to put his teacup down. "Don't wait up, Mother."

They were gone in a flash.