Author Notes: Written for the anonymous exchange on livejournal at hpslashnotsmut. The request was for plot post HBP where Harry had to deal with Draco after the events of the book and that they still get into a relationship. Also she wanted mentor!Snape and it's Snape, who am I to resist that request?

Beta'd by Rakina, Arenas, and Xos2ed

Part Two

Harry waded through the crowded halls of St. Mungos as he made his way to the atrium. He had to go and grab a few things from work, including a new Portkey, before he could head home. He had disconnected his Floo when he had begun to get unsolicited callers. Ignoring the odd stares he was getting, he sidestepped an elderly couple with a smile. The day hadn't been as bad as it could have been. That was a shock. He realized he had been working himself up for no reason at all. If anything, Harry felt disappointed.

"Good evening, Auror Potter," a light female voice said as he passed the reception desk. Harry stopped, a small smile on his lips.

"Good evening, Miss Lovegood."

Luna's laughter followed him to the Floos. He queued behind a father and his son and glanced at his watch. Damn Kingsley anyway! If it had been anyone else they never would have had their Apparation rights revoked because they never would have been caught. To make matters worse, the boy in front of him seemed to have a cold and was coughing every five seconds. Harry couldn't be forced to feel sympathy. Little kids caught colds. His nieces seemed to have them perpetually, if that was any indication.

He cleared his throat in annoyance when the father did nothing to stop the child's miserable wailing. That earned him a dirty glare, but at least the kid had shut up. The fact that he was staring pointedly at his forehead didn't escape his notice.

Harry looked down at him and smiled weakly. It wasn't the boy's fault he was sick and Harry was in a rush, however, it was the father's fault that he wasn't already Flooing out of there.

"Do you have a problem?" The man barked, when Harry tapped him on the shoulder. With a shake of the head and a point of the finger, Harry finally got the man to realize what he wanted.

The man grunted and picked his son up in his arms, before marching over to the Floo, grabbing some powder and vanishing in green flames.

"You did the right thing, Potter."

Harry spun around in shock. "Professor!"

Snape snorted. "Potter, I am no longer your teacher. You can stop calling me that."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, still gaping. How long had it been since he had seen Snape? Five months? A year? Before the last skirmish had broken out, that was for certain. He grinned sheepishly. "I'm just going back to the office to grab a Portkey home."

"I was under the impression that all Aurors needed to be able to Apparate."

Harry shrugged as he stepped forward towards one of the vacant Floos. "Yes, well, they do."

"And?"

"And, I don't want to talk about it here," he answered, grabbing some Floo powder. He stepped into the fireplace and calling out 'Ministry of Magic', he vanished, leaving Snape behind, scowling. Harry closed his eyes to quell the nausea as he hurtled through the Floo system and braced himself as he began his descent. He stumbled out of the Floo, just barely keeping his footing.

He brushed off his robes and straightened his glasses. Snape was standing there, looking superior.

"Just because you can still Apparate, does not give you leave to make fun of me," Harry warned.

"I have been belittling you since you were eleven, Mr. Potter. What makes you think your pathetic attempt at being threatening is going to stop me now?"

Harry glared and handed his wand to Maggie, waiting as she checked it over. This was the most tedious part of returning to work, and the main reason he rarely ate out during his lunch breaks. The entire process was rubbish in his opinion. Just because there was no Dark magic on your wand, it did not mean you weren't entering the Ministry with the intent to hurt someone.

He stepped aside so Snape could hand over his wand as well, which Maggie took with greater reluctance.

"All set," Maggie said after a moment, handing him back his wand with a cheerful smile.

"Thank you, Maggie."

"No problem, Harry." She glanced over at Snape, confused, yet her smile never faded. "Why are you back anyway? I thought you had gone home for the night."

"Sadly, no."

Maggie nodded sympathetically. "Well, have a good evening then. You too, Professor," she added, watching Snape warily.

"Miss Long," Snape returned, with a curt bob of his head.

Once out of earshot, Harry turned on his heels and started walking backwards. No one should be in these halls , so he wasn't worried about walking into someone.

"You still enjoy intimidation then?"

"Of course. You were thinking otherwise?"

Harry shrugged. He wasn't a student. He wasn't going to blush. "So, how are the students this year?" he asked instead. Snape gave a long-suffering sigh and Harry sniggered. "That bad then?"

"They seem to be getting worse each year."

"You say that every year," Harry pointed out, fishing for his keys in his pocket as they neared the Auror department.

"And it still holds true every year."

Harry unlocked the door and stepped into the darkened room. Light immediately sprang up from the candles lining the walls, and he ducked, barely missing getting stabbed in the eye by a blasted interoffice memo. It circled his head and he grabbed it irritably.

"Bad day, Potter?" The blatant glee Snape found in his predicament only irritated him more.

"The worst," Harry grumbled, reading the notice. He crumpled it up and stuffed it in his pocket without a sound. He only had to be told twice, he didn't need flying bits of paper to remind him that he had to get Malfoy out of there tomorrow. "It almost makes me miss living in a cave with you."

"Does it really?"

Harry looked over his shoulder at his former professor and shrugged half-heartedly. "At least there I knew exactly what was expected of me."

"You've gone to see Mr. Malfoy already, haven't you?"

"Why is it everyone can tell?" he whined, walking down a row of cubicles before reaching a hall of offices. Snape loomed over him casting him in shadow. He pressed his hand to the doorknob and winced as it pricked his skin, drawing a droplet of blood.

"Everyone? Surely you haven't seen everyone in this world in the last few hours, Potter."

"Sarcasm really not appreciated, sir."

"Petulance is not appreciated either, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed and opened the door to his small office. He stepped aside, letting Snape in before him. He kept his head bowed until Snape passed by him, a habit he found hard to break once the war was over. It had been driven into his head to avert his eyes when an influential wizard, or one with extraordinary power, went past him. It was to prevent someone from being able to tell what he was thinking without Legilimency. It had taken a great part of the war to get his emotions under control, and even then, one look into his eyes had been able to tell what he was feeling, and that had been his greatest weakness. This had been the alternate way. Keep your head bowed and out of trouble.

He shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, feeling foolish. Snape and he were equals now. The man had as much as admitted it to him one night, and he knew that if Snape tried to invade his mind he would know it. Plus, he had nothing to hide from him. He clearly already knew that Harry had Malfoy in his care. He touched the metal band on his arm through his sleeve, shivering.

"I need to know what happened today, Potter," Snape stated, sitting down behind Harry's desk. It was hard not to sink back into his roll of repentant student and stand there with his head bowed. To compensate the urge, he stared at the framed photo on his wall. An ordinary Muggle photo of his best friend's wedding. It had been taken just as the sun was setting and Ron's hair stood out starkly against the purpling sky, and Hermione's eyes seemed to sparkle. "Healer Leavenworth contacted me when you had finished your visit with Draco, but she didn't divulge any information."

"So you came to the source?"

"I see Auror training did you some good then."

Harry rolled his eyes and sat down in the same seat Ron had been in earlier. "What do you want to know?"

"She said it went 'very well'," Snape sounded disgusted. "I suspect she may have lied."

Harry grimaced. "I suppose that depends on your definition of well."

"Surely, Mr. Potter, not even you could have 'bollocksed it up' that badly."

Harry grinned, finding it hard to keep his amusement out of his tone. "Brushing up on our slang?"

"I rather think it comes with the territory. I can't let those little miscreants think they know more than me."

"Of course not."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Harry trying not to fidget overly much. He knew why Snape was here, but he couldn't quite bring himself to admit what he had done, how he had lost all control.

"Potter."

Harry looked up to meet Snape's unwavering gaze. "Yes?"

"What are you going to do with him?"

"What do you mean?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and that feeling that he was being a bad student returned.

"Are you being purposefully dense, or are you truly unaware of how much power you have over young Mr. Malfoy at this moment?"

Harry stared at him incredulously. "I'm not going to hurt him if that's what you mean."

"Not purposefully you won't, Potter. You're anything but cruel."

"So you admit that I might be better than my father?" Harry snapped, eyes flashing.

"Do you honestly believe I would seek out your company after the war, if I still thought of you as your father?"

"No," Harry muttered, embarrassed.

Snape nodded approvingly. "Good; now back to my original question. Will you abandon him?"

Harry growled low in the back of his throat. Here was someone he could take his frustrations out on without fear of hurting them. Here was someone he could mouth off at and not get disappointed stares. So, why wasn't he doing it then?

"Do you think this," Harry sneered, roughly shoving up the sleeve of his Auror uniform to show the silver band around his wrist, "would allow me to forget him? Fuck, for all they say this is helping I can't see how tying Aurors to Death Eaters will do anyone a good service."

"You'd be surprised, Potter, at what the ridiculously righteous are willing to put up with."

"Did you just stick up for my job?"

Snape brushed him off with a disdainful sniff. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Sir?"

"What, Potter?"

"Malfoy, do you--I mean--you did know him better than me, and you're really the only one I can go to seeing as Mrs. Malfoy is in St. Mungo's psyche ward, and I really can't think of a way to--"

"Just spit it out."

"Do you know of anything that might draw Malfoy out of his shell?"

Snape scowled at him and Harry averted his eyes. He hadn't realized how easily he was slipping back into his former role. It was unnerving. His filing cabinet was also unlocked, he realized as he stared at it.

"Is it true you have some knowledge of how to play the piano now?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused by the seemingly pointless question. "Pian--yes, Hermione thought it would be a good idea for her, Ron, and I to learn it. It was either that or ballroom dancing, why?"

"Because Draco's most cherished possession is his baby grand piano. If any object were to awaken his mind it would be that."

"Can't you just--I dunno--use Legilimency on him and force him out of his mind."

Snape snarled and Harry gulped. The man circled the desk and loomed over him with a deep scowl. His skin was blotchy and two pinpricks of red appeared on his high cheekbones. Harry realized he was fucked.

"You idiotic fool," he hissed, "you never listened to a word I said did you? You refused to pay attention! You have no idea of what you could do with that spell, do you? Do you!"

"I--"

"You could render him brain damaged if you were to do so! If I catch even a whisper of you trying that spell anywhere in Draco's vicinity, I will wring your neck. Do you understand now?"

Harry nodded frantically, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair. He wished someone would come in claiming to have forgotten something; anyone would do, and get him away from Snape's rage. He had known Snape was close to Malfoy as his Head of House, but the way he was acting told Harry that he had known Draco much longer than a few years.

"Yes, sir," he squeaked out.

"Good. I'll be checking in again, Potter." His tone left no room for arguing, not that Harry expected there would be.

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

He sat tense as Snape went around his chair towards the door. "It was a pleasure chatting with you, Mr. Potter."

"Likewise, sir," Harry mumbled, offering the Potions master a hesitant smile. With a small nod, the man was gone. Harry slumped into his chair, running a trembling hand through his hair. Whether he liked it or not he had just promised that he'd take care of Malfoy, and he had promised it to someone he respected. At least Kingsley wouldn't have anything to complain about anymore, he thought ruefully, standing and locking his filing cabinet.

The following afternoon came too soon for Harry. Ron had eaten lunch with him again and dropped off a drawing Amanda and Brigit had done for him the night before when he had visited. Ron had charmed it so the stick figures moved around and now it was stuck to the side of his filing cabinet.

"Potter, I hope you have an excellent reason for not preparing Malfoy for his move."

Harry glanced up from Malfoy's file. He had been hoping he could find a bit of enlightenment there, but all he found was what Matilda had told him, not helpful in the least.

"I do."

"And…?"

"And…" Harry drawled, arching back in his chair. "Matilda is still trying to get him to drink some water before I'm forced to take him by Portkey."

"The Apparation ban has been lifted," Kingsley admitted. Harry scowled at the black man, folding his arms across his chest. "It's safer to take our subjects by Apparation."

"Less traceable."

"Got it in one, Potter."

Harry sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his tired eyes before putting them back on. "What time is it anyway?"

"Just after five. So watch yourself."

"Yes, sir."

Kingsley stared at him for a few seconds as if figuring something out. "I don't want to fire you, Harry."

Harry grinned weakly. "I know, boss."

"Good lad."

Once Kingsley left, Harry slouched forward, burying his hands in his hair. He kept repeating his conversation with Hermione from last night in his head. There really wasn't another choice. Malfoy was going home with him, however hard he had to try to keep bile from rising in his throat at the thought. Malfoy, in his flat. Yet on some level Harry knew that it wouldn't be a problem. After all, Malfoy was as useful as a rag doll and took up about the same amount of space. He hated his sense of duty.

Sighing, he pushed his chair away from his desk, picking up Malfoy's folder as he went.

Malfoy was in the same place he had left him the day before. He had the same vacant expression, and he was sitting in the same spot on the bench. Harry briefly wondered how they managed to bath him and get him back in the same position.

"Mr. Potter, are you sure you want to do this?"

Harry gazed at the anxious Healer and lifted his shoulders. "There's nothing else I can do."

Matilda sighed and folded her arms across her chest. Silence pervaded the room as they both watched Malfoy blink lethargically.

"What do I need to do?" Harry murmured, already bending over to lift Malfoy from the wooden bench. The other man's skin was clammy to the touch.

Matilda helped tuck Malfoy's head against Harry's shoulder so it wasn't lolling around any longer. Harry tried not to flinch as the blond's cold nose touched his neck, sending gooseflesh up and down his arms. He adjusted the lighter man in his arms, cradling him in a way that would cause humiliation for the ex-Death Eater on a normal day.

"He needs to stay hydrated," she told him as they exited the chilled room into the warmer hallway, "and you aren't qualified to administer certain protein potions either. Why can't I come with you again?"

Harry sighed. "Because as long as Malfoy is gone, Kingsley won't suspect anything strange, but if you're gone too, both of us could come under question. Your reputation as a Healer could be ruined." The unspoken, "and I could lose my job," hung between them.

"This is such a horrible idea."

"What would you have me do?" Harry snapped. "It's not like I can just drop him off in the Muggle world alone!"

"Auror Potter, please."

"Healer Leavenworth, I appreciate how concerned you are for Mr. Malfoy, but you must understand that there is nothing that can be done. Nothing."

Matilda scowled and stopped walking. Harry refrained from rolling his eyes, continuing forward as if he hadn't noticed. Let her throw a fit, at least one of them should be allowed to.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" she hissed.

Harry turned around, careful not to dislodge Malfoy's head from his shoulder. "I am sorry," he gritted out angrily, "but there is nothing I can do about this. Just tell me what I need to know, so I can take care of him."

Matilda gripped her white apron and gazed around the empty corridor with a lost expression. Harry felt guilty about it, yet there was nothing he could do. It was bad enough she knew what was going on. By rights he could Obliviate her, she did know too much already. He wouldn't do it though, as much as he hated relying on someone else he needed her to make sure he didn't accidentally cock up his mission and get Malfoy killed. The metal of his bracelet was cool against his wrist, but he wondered for how long. How long would it be until something went wrong?

"Potter!"

Harry looked down the hallway to see Kingsley striding towards him, pleased. He threw a quick look at Matilda and noticed she was busy writing something down on her clipboard. That was convenient.

"Yes?"

The taller man took in the blond in Harry's arms and the healer behind him. "You're finally doing as you're told?"

Harry nodded curtly. It would be absolutely wonderful if his boss decided to follow him now, just bloody wonderful. He had to remember to strengthen his wards when he got home.

"Yes, sir."

Kingsley smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Excellent. I want to see your report on how this went on my desk tomorrow afternoon."

"Of course, sir." Harry gave him a tightlipped smile and made to move forward, when Kingsley stopped him again.

"And Potter?"

Harry gazed up at Kingsley coolly. "Yes, sir?"

"No funny business, you got me?"

"Yeah, I got you." Harry had to remind himself that Kingsley couldn't hear the drumming of his heart.

They held each other's eyes for a few seconds, before Kingsley broke contact. He stepped back with a small bob of the head. "Tomorrow, Potter."

"Tomorrow."

He stood perfectly still until he was certain Kingsley walked out of earshot. Cursing, he wanted nothing more than to punch the wall beside him. They had to be following him somehow. Kingsley couldn't have known he was here if there wasn't.

"Mr. Potter, watch your language please," Matilda chided, clipping her quill to the clipboard. "Now there is only one way you are going to get him to drink anything, and that is by force. I've found the safest way is to run the cup over his lip until he opens his mouth. Don't worry if he chokes at first, just go slowly and help him swallow by massaging his neck."

"That's the safe way, what's the easy?" Harry muttered, adjusting his shoulder, when Malfoy's head started to fall sideways.

Matilda grabbed the blond's wrist and seemed to be taking his pulse as she gathered her thoughts. "The easy way would be through injection, but without proper training you could easily make his current situation worse, and you would feel that." She nodded at the bracelet that had slipped down his arm and was now dangling loosely on his wrist.

"Safe way it is then," Harry said quickly, blocking out the involuntary shiver at the mention of injections. "Is that all?"

"You'll have to feed him chicken broth as well, for what little protein it can give him. He's still in a danger zone, as it is, and if he continues to reject everything we give him he very well could die."

The thoughtful pause between them was cut short by the sound of beeping coming from Harry's pocket. "I need to go."

"Then go, but if something goes wrong, please, please don't hesitate to call me or your friend, Healer Granger."

"I won't," he agreed hastily, pulling out a round paperweight from his pocket. He barely got the chance to place Malfoy's hand securely on the relatively illegal Portkey when it activated and took them from the pristine hallway to Harry's messy flat.

Harry wasn't sure what to do. Two days ago, he had taken Draco Malfoy from the ministry and since then he had become nothing more than a sofa decoration. It was absolutely maddening. Harry wanted to punch the blond in the face for all the good it would do.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, do something."

"That won't work, Harry."

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, taking the beer bottle from her without looking. He popped the cap off and took a deep sip, before placing it on the floor next to him. He bounced on his haunches, staring into blank grey eyes trying to determine what to do now.

A hand ran through his hair, and he slanted a smile at Hermione whose smile softened. "You need to get some rest, Harry."

"It's just so frustrating," he snarled, picking up the cold bottle once again. He hesitated as he brought it to his lips, and then after a pause lowered it again without drinking any. He stared at the non-descript brown bottle, his brow furrowing in thought. "Kingsley dropped by today. I'm just lucky I strengthened my wards enough to prevent him from Apparating in."

"What did he want?" Hermione asked, sitting on the floor beside him. She leaned against the sofa and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

Harry scowled at his drink and cast it aside. With a soft thump, he dropped to his bum and pulled his knees to his chest. "To tell me Malfoy went missing."

"He knows already?"

"Damn right he knows already! And I can't just leave Malfoy alone. You know that, Ron knows that, I know that, hell, the twins know that and even they are worried about him. They're four, Hermione. They've met him once, and already they're worried about him. I can't disappoint them, Hermione, I just can't."

She hummed thoughtfully as she turned her gaze direction on Malfoy. "He hasn't moved at all."

"He doesn't. Not without a serious amount of coaxing anyway."

"That's not necessarily true, Harry."

Harry groaned. "If you're talking about that one time, forget it, Hermione. I can't even remember what I was saying; let alone which part of it triggered something within the prat."

He watched as Hermione's eyes suddenly lit up, and Harry could just about see the plan forming in her mind.

"A Pensieve."

"What?"

She grinned and Harry got worried. "You need a Pensieve, Harry. Pull the memory out and examine it that way."

Harry leaned forward onto his knees and kissed her forehead. "You're absolutely brilliant," he told her, "wait here."

Hermione gave him a confused smile, but Harry didn't explain as he jumped to his stockinged feet and hurriedly left his sitting room.

Five minutes later he returned, Pensieve in hand and with a goofy grin on his face. Hermione rolled her eyes and that only served to make Harry laugh.

"I just happened to have one in storage," he explained, placing it on the glass table in front of the sofa.

"Only you would have a Pensieve in storage, Harry." Her eyes shimmered with laughter. "Honestly, you're just as bad as Ron and his father."

"I happen to like Mr. Weasley," Harry cried, laughing at her.

"Of course you do," she patronized, casting a weary glance at Malfoy. Harry followed her gaze, frowning at the cracked lips. He glanced at the wall clock and his frown deepened. How had he lost track of time like that? "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Malfoy needs to be fed," he murmured, brushing aside the thought that saying that made Malfoy sound like some sort of pet.

Hermione laid a hand on his arm and stood. "Let me do it. I have more experience in these things." Harry grabbed and squeezed her hand in thanks as she disappeared through the archway to the kitchen. His gaze reluctantly went back to the waif of a man on his sofa. The familiar feeling of sympathy twanged within his gut.

This wasn't his fault though, he told himself sternly, focusing back on the empty Pensieve before him. At one time it had held another, greater, man's memories for him to sift through, but once he had finished going through them all they had needed to be destroyed. Albus Dumbledore's memories forever remained in Harry's mind, the old headmaster's last gift to him.

"All right, I can do this," he said to himself, plucking his wand up off the coffee table. He bent low over the basin and touched the wand to his temple and focused on recalling the memory of his afternoon with Malfoy. It slowly swam to the surface and Harry hooked onto it like a fisherman harpooning a fish. He tugged it out, trying valiantly not to be disturbed by the silvery thread he removed from his head. Settling it in the magical basin he tapped at it with tip of his wand, watching as the scene cleared before him. There was no audio, but Malfoy's impassive face, twisting into its once familiar sneer told him he had taken out the correct part.

Harry looked up when Hermione entered the room once more with an exasperated expression. A few seconds later it became clear why. Ron walked across the hardwood floor with a sheepish smile, behind him trailed Amanda and Brigit, talking quietly with their heads bent together.

It was eerily reminiscent of their Uncles when they were about to pull a prank. Hermione must have noticed this too because she quickly went and lifted Brigit off the ground and flipped her upside down. The girl squealed in delight, her long flowered top flying up to reveal her pudgy belly. Ron bent over and grabbed the girl's hands and stepped backwards so they were holding her like a hammock.

Amanda made a beeline for Harry and he caught her around the middle and pulled her onto his lap, tugging one of her pigtail braids before planting a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek.

"Have a good day at school, love?"

"It was great, Uncle Harry. We did lotsa neat stuff with Miss Bell. And Jason wouldn't leave Brigit alone and dared her to eat a crayon so she did and she got sick and Mummy had to come and get her. She was put in time out and made lotsa funny faces."

Harry laughed. "It's not nice to talk about your sister like that."

"S'okay Uncle Harry, cause then I ates a crayon too and Mummy put us both in time out togever."

Hermione was laughing and he looked up just in time to see Brigit flying towards him. She flung her arms around Harry's neck, kneeing her twin sister in the back, and then nuzzling Harry's shoulder. Harry stroked her free-flowing, curly red hair and looked up to see Ron tickling Hermione as she tried to fend him off.

"Harry, help!" she cried, between peals of laughter.

Harry smirked and shook his head. "I have a lap full of Weasley brats, can't help you."

"Uncle Harry?"

"Yes, Bridie?"

"Who's that?" Sharp blue eyes were looking past his shoulder at the sofa behind him. Hermione's laughter had died off and Ron seemed momentarily frozen in place. Amanda craned her neck all the way back to take in the strange man on the sofa as well. Her sweet smile turned confused, and then into a worried frown.

"Is he okay, Uncle Harry?"

"No, I'm afraid he's very sick, darling," Harry said gently, running a hand up and down Amanda's back. He looked up at Hermione for help. She was the healer, not him.

"Does he gots the wizard flu?"

"I bet he's got chicken pops," Brigit said speculatively, her nose wrinkling.

Amanda scowled. "He's got the flu."

"The pops!"

"The flu!"

"Girls, please," Hermione hushed, picking up Brigit and situating her on her hip. The little girl's peasant skirt rode up, showing cowboy boots, but Harry found his focus and concern not on her odd yet endearing apparel, but on her expression. It was downright scared.

"Mummy, is he gonna die, like Tiffy?"

Amanda curled on Harry's lap, and he found himself murmuring soft sounds to calm her down. He could already feel her tiny body trembling.

"No, baby," Ron told Brigit in a rough voice. Harry didn't blame him, Ron hated Malfoy as much he used to, but even they couldn't say anything bad about him around the twins. They wouldn't understand. "He won't die like Tiffy."

"But, Tiffy doggie was sick just like him is," Amanda sniffled, rubbing her nose on her sweater sleeve. "And you said Tiffy wouldn' die neither!"

"Baby, Tiffy was an old dog," Hermione explained, kissing the crown of Brigit's head. "Draco isn't old. He's just not feeling well."

"But—"

"You'll see," Harry said, with more optimism than he had the right to feel. "In a few weeks he'll be as right as rain."

"Will he?" Amanda asked wide-eyed.

Harry tapped her nose. "Of course he will because I said so."

Amanda giggled and the tension in the room broke. Hermione sagged forward in relief and masked it by setting the four-year-old in her arms back on the floor again.

"Come on, I bet Misty misses us," Brigit said happily, already forgetting what had made her so upset in the first place. She held out her hand to her older sister by three minutes, which Amanda readily took and then they were off like a shot, down the hall and into the bedrooms.

"I'll make sure they don't break something," muttered Ron as he pecked his wife serenely on the cheek.

"I love you," Hermione cooed, exaggerating the motion of batting her eyelashes.

Ron kissed her more thoroughly, uncaring that Harry was in the room to see it. "You'd better."

Hermione stared after him in a daze and then shook her head. "Sorry about that," she said sheepishly.

"At least you're getting some on a regular basis," Harry smirked.

"Harry!" Hermione slapped his arm lightly, her cheeks suffusing with a lovely shade of red.

"What?"

"You're horrible."

Harry grinned. "No, I'm not."

"Yes you are, you great oaf, now budge over so I can get at Malfoy."

Harry obeyed her request, by sliding up onto the couch beside the blond. "I think I got the right memory."

Hermione nodded as she leaned forward, her forehead wrinkling in concern. She ran the cup of broth over Malfoy's bottom lip until he opened his mouth. Careful to not spill any of the tepid fluid down the blond's chin, she tipped the plastic cup and dribbled the contents slowly Malfoy's mouth.

Harry watched as she coaxed him to swallow the broth and had to turn away, when some slipped down his chin.

"Has he thrown up anything yet?" Hermione asked, summoning a napkin from the kitchen and dabbing gently at the mess.

He shook his head. "No, he's been fine. It's odd. Healer Leavenworth made it sound like he was doing it almost every meal."

"Well you would too if you were trapped in that place," Hermione snapped. She sighed and bowed her head. "Sorry."

"No, you're right, Hermione."

"This is the second time you've admitted this in the past two days, are you sure you aren't sick as well?" she teased, reaching over and feeling his forehead in mock concern. "The Harry Potter from a few days ago wouldn't have cared if they had thrown Draco Malfoy in a skip, let alone got proper medical attention."

"The Harry Potter from a few days ago didn't know his cat would take such a liking to said blond prick either."

Hermione arched a brow disbelievingly. "So, you're telling me you feel bad for Malfoy because Misty likes him?" She shook her head. "No offense, Harry, but not even the twins are likely to believe that."

"Fine, I just- I feel bad for him, okay!"

His friend's expression softened and she ran her hand down his cheek. "That's more than fine. That's normal."

"But I liked hating him," Harry whined. "It was a constant."

Hermione remained calm. "You have other constants now, Harry."

Harry was inclined to believe she was right.

"Hermione, I don't know what to do!"

"Listen, Harry, you need to calm down. I don't even know what's wrong yet."

She set a bowl of dried macaroni in front of the twins and crossed her kitchen to the stove. She stood on tiptoes, balancing the handset between her shoulder and ear as she reached for the glue sticks and finger paints. It had taken forever for Ron to get used to living a Muggle lifestyle, but she was glad he had conceded to her on this.

There were some things about living like a Muggle she just refused to give up. Heating and electricity were only two of them. It was the same for Harry. When they had gone hunting for a flat for him, they had decided that they would keep to Muggle London, away from the press, and pressure of being in the public's eye.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked, reaching effortlessly over Hermione to grab the glue stick she had knocked back further into the cabinet and out of reach. He handed it to his wife and pressed a kiss to her temple, his arms encircling her waist. He could hear Harry's panicked voice through the speaker of the phone as clearly as if he was the one holding it.

"Hermione, Kingsley is coming to talk to me tonight about why I haven't started a search for Malfoy yet. Well, I know why I haven't because he's been taking up space on my sofa for the last four days, but how am I supposed to explain that to my boss?"

"Harry, mate, it's me," Ron said, taking the phone from Hermione. The frizzy-haired brunette ducked under his arm and went to give their two little girls the paste and paint. "When's Kingsley showing up then?"

"In thirty minutes. Ron, I don't know what to do here, and if I don't think of a plan soon, preferably an untraceable one, I'm getting sacked."

"Fu-" Ron's eyes went wide as the giggling at the table stopped and the twins turned to their father with identical expressions of intrigue. "-udge ," he finished lamely. "Then why are you still at home?"

"Give me that," Hermione said in exasperation. She grabbed the receiver and sighed. "Now go," she mouthed. Ron nodded, giving his two paint-splattered daughters a quick kiss each, before heading out into the night.

"Hermione?"

"I'm still here, Harry."

"What am I going to do?"

Hermione leaned against the countertop and hung her head, making sure to keep an eye on the twins as they smeared glue all over their pieces of paper.

"You're going to calm down and wait for Ron to show up."

"What good will that do?"

She gazed around her crowded kitchen, before spotting the picture on the refrigerator. The one piece of artwork done by the twins she hadn't let Ron give to Harry at work. She took it off the refrigerator and gazed at the two figures moving in it. To say she had been shocked when Amanda had handed their newest drawing to her would be an understatement. But she was beginning to see what they did.

"Harry?"

"What?"

"You're going to have to talk to Malfoy."

Harry paced in front of his sofa, shooting anxious glances at the front door to his flat, and then back to the blond sitting as impassive as ever on his couch. There was no way in hell Ron was going to be able to come up with a plan by the time he got over here. Hermione had made no sense when she had said talk to Malfoy. He could shout himself hoarse, but it wouldn't do any good. There was no way he'd risk Apparating without Malfoy being aware, at least on some level, of what was going on. Aside from being unethical, he'd run the risk of splinching them both and Harry had done quite enough of that for one week.

"Come on, come on," he urged, staring a hole through the door. Only twenty minutes until Kingsley showed up and things went pear-shaped. Not that they weren't already, he thought ruefully, flinging himself on the couch next to Malfoy. "You would be the one to ruin my career."

Malfoy didn't move, not that Harry had expected him to. "Hermione says talk to you, so I'm going to. Did you know that the house I'm leaving you at technically belongs to me? When Kingsley had told me to find an empty house, I never expected him to want to move you in there. You never know, you might even have liked it. Doubt it though, there aren't any house elves and there certainly aren't any silk sheets." Harry snorted. Why was he even bothering? If Ron were to walk in now he'd have every right to take the piss out of him, talking to himself like he was the insane one.

"Did you know the twins actually like you?" Harry said, leaning back against the arm of his couch. He gasped when a ball of fluff jumped on his stomach and from there to the back of the sofa. Harry spared a second to glare at Misty, before stroking her gray and white fur. She purred in pleasure and Harry rolled his eyes, scratching under her chin and behind her ears. "They do," he continued, as if he hadn't been rudely interrupted, "you're all they talk about. They want daily reports on your health to make sure you are getting better. You're making me lie to my nieces, and my boss."

Misty bit his finger and he yelped, withdrawing his hand. The cat just blinked at him, still purring. "For that I am not giving you any treats tonight."

"Harry, you in there?"

"The door's unlocked, Ron!"

The front door swung open and Ron walked into the sitting room with a peevish expression. His blue eyes settled on Harry's face and his expression softened. "You all right?"

"I just got a love nip from this old wench here, but otherwise I'm completely losing my mind."

Ron snorted and leaned against the backside of the sofa, running his hand over Misty's back much to the old girl's happiness.

"So, had you worked anything out yet? Mione made if fairly clear that if I didn't help you with this I wouldn't be seeing my blankets any time tonight."

"Harsh mistress," Harry snickered, stretching on the couch, his foot bumping into Malfoy's hip. He gazed down the length of the piece of furniture, taking in the sunken expression of the man beside him. "Why can't you just be normal like all the other Death Eaters?"

"Because he's Malfoy, and he would have to be special."

"Oh, yes of course." His eyes flickered to the wall clock and his stomach clenched again. "Fifteen minutes."

"There has to be something you can do."

"You tell me what, and I'll do it in a second." Harry groaned, rubbing his face vigorously. "I'm screwed, no matter what happens."

Ron moved around the couch, tripping over something as he went. He bent over and pulled something out from beneath the side table, something Harry couldn't see from his angle. "What is it?"

"A Pensieve," Ron murmured bemused. "Do you often keep them under side tables?"

"Shut it and bring it here," Harry snapped, his eyes lighting with interest. He was ashamed to admit he had forgotten, he had stuffed it there the last time Ron and Hermione had been over. He hadn't even gone into it yet. Had that been what Hermione had meant? She would be the one to remember this even when he didn't.

He sat up crossing his legs, accepting the basin when it was handed to him. "You coming with me, it'll only take a few minutes, not even that long."

"Nah, I'm okay. I'll stand watch."

"Ron?" His fingers curled around the lip of the Pensieve.

"Yeah, Harry?"

Harry looked up offering his friend a crooked grin. "Thanks for showing up."

"Not a problem."

He nodded and taking a deep breath, stuck his head into the swirling mist. He fell the short distance down into the white room, shivering uncontrollably. Stepping around so he was crouching beside Malfoy, he rested a hand on the bench, waiting for the exact moment when there was a shift in his expression.

"Where's your daddy to run to now, huh, Malfoy? He can't save you, not when you need him most, the Malfoy name is mud, it's worse than mud, it's the little crawlies that live in the mud and you've got no one to hide behind any more."

Harry winced as he listened to himself hurl slur after slur at the blond beside him, surprised and disgusted by his own behavior. He was suddenly glad Hermione hadn't been around to accompany him for this. She would have been horrified. Steeling himself, he looked back into Malfoy's face.

"I'm so glad I didn't accept your hand that day on the train or I could have fallen in with the 'wrong sort'."

There it was. A blink, and then a more rapid one, and suddenly the very familiar sneer appeared.

iPotter."

What had he just mentioned that tipped him off? The meeting on the train.That was it? That was all he had to say? He mentally cheered as the memory began to dissolve around him and he pulled his head from the Pensieve.

"Any luck?"

Harry grinned, crawling across the short space, ignoring Ron for the moment.

"Malfoy, I hope you're listening to me," he said, trying to sound malicious, but failing at it. It shouldn't matter, he told himself, it wasn't the intent of the words. It was just that phrase. "I'm glad I didn't fall in with the wrong sort."

Harry nearly crowed when Malfoy's head swiveled in his direction. Ron's sharp gasp went unnoticed, as he was currently being glared at.

"We are leaving, Malfoy."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Malfoy rasped, blinking and clutching his throat awkwardly. Harry touched his arm and the blond flinched.

"Yes, we are," Harry stated slowly as if talking to a very small child. "I'm going to Apparate us both."

"You're going to what?"

Harry pulled out his wand, his grin dimming with the shine of consciousness in Malfoy's eyes. "Oh, no you don't, you are not leaving me again." He shook his childhood rival, hoping for some glimmer of anything, but he didn't even get the violent reaction he had received in the Ministry holding cell.

"Harry, you need to get going, mate."

"Time?"

Ron stared at him dumbfounded. "Come again."

"Time, you know the thing that clocks and watches tell us. How much time until Kingsley arrives?"

"About two minutes."

"Shit!" Harry cursed, bowing his head. He examined Malfoy's face again, praying that somewhere the other man had some idea of what he was going to do. "Please, Malfoy."

"One minute."

"Not helping, Ron," Harry growled, gripping Malfoy's arm tightly.

"Sorry."

"Me too."

He gazed at the redhead with a wistful sigh, before withdrawing his wand. Closing his eyes, allowing himself to only see the interior of his abandoned house, he Apparated with a loud crack.

Ron winced and rubbed at his ears. For all the power that Harry held, he made an awful lot of racket when coming or going. With a rueful look at the empty sofa, Ron withdrew his own wand and Apparated home.