Two hours later Draco returned to Harry's flat with two pink newly regrown fingers and renewed determination. The magic residue hit him as soon as he Apparated and he involuntarily gasped as the feel and taste of it returned. Harry jumped up and switched off the telly as soon as Draco arrived, then seized Draco's left hand and inspected his fingers closely.

"Do they hurt?" he asked.

"No, they're just sensitive," Draco suppressed a shiver as Harry traced lines on his new skin.

"I'm sorry," Harry looked up and released Draco's hand. "I didn't know it would be so violent."

"No wandless magic," Draco said firmly. "You have to release the pressure slowly or you'll destroy yourself. Wandless magic is too much when you're this backed up. You need to do small charms, first year stuff. Go get your wand and transfigure a match into a needle, that sort of thing."

"You're mad," Harry stared at him.

"I'm not," Draco said. "I may be a prat, but I'm not mad," he smiled wryly.

Harry's eyes focused on Draco's mouth for a moment. Finally he looked up into his eyes, his irises as intensely green as ever. He shook his head slowly.

"I don't have a wand anymore."

"You can't be serious."

"I am," Harry said. "I got rid of it."

"How could you do something so bloody stupid?" Draco snapped.

"I gave up magic, Malfoy," Harry said as though it were obvious.

"Then you put it in a box on the shelf," Draco pointed sharply at the windowsill. "You don't get rid of it."

"I don't want it anymore," Harry scowled. "I don't want anything to do with magic anymore. Not even a wand in my flat." The swirling, seeping magic curled in darkening eddies, taking on a slightly burned taste.

"Is that why you didn't even take your parents' photo with you?" Draco asked, his tone intentionally sharp. "When you broke your best friends' hearts by leaving them forever, you also left your memory of your parents, too."

"That's right, I left everything," Harry said. "Don't assume it was easy." His magic swelled and loomed over them both.

"Potter," Draco stepped back. "Calm down. You're leaking magic and I don't want to get caught in the backlash."

"I'm what?" Harry's anger dried up in an instant. "You can feel it?"

"Yes," Draco sighed in relief as the swell retreated. "I'm a Tracker. That's how I found you. Your magical signature is huge, and it's getting bigger by the minute. I don't think you have much time left."

"And what happens when I run out of time?" Harry asked.

Draco swallowed hard and was reluctant to tell him the truth. His eyes roved the room, looking at everything except his former school rival.

"Draco," Harry said softly. "What's going to happen to me?"

Draco's eyes landed on the white skink's cage. The one Harry had named Dragon. He sighed and met Harry's gaze. "You'll explode. You'll die. And anyone standing near you may die, too."

"I see," Harry nodded. "Okay then," he grabbed a jacket from the coat rack and smiled weakly at Draco. "Thanks for your help, Malfoy. Would have been nice to have time to catch up with you."

"Wait, where are you going?" Draco was alarmed. This sounded suspiciously like a goodbye. "Just hold on a tick."

"I don't have a tick," Harry said sadly. "Bye, then."

"Wait!" Draco lunged for Harry, but it was too late.

In a thunderous crack Harry Disapparated, splitting space and time in a massive rift that caught Draco's lunging arm and sucked him in. For a terrifying moment that hung between seconds Draco realized he had been pulled into Harry's wake without a destination fixed in his mind's eye. He opened his mouth to scream but had no mouth. He had no eyes, no hands, no feet, no body. He was between realities.

Then just as quickly as it began, Draco was ejected from the in-between nothingness and was thrown to the ground in a crumpled heap like discarded paper. He landed hard, the wind knocked out of him and his ankle shattered. He couldn't even draw in enough air to scream. Everything swam and went dark.

"Enervate," a baritone voice filled Draco's ears and brought him back to consciousness.

He opened his eyes and saw Harry leaning over him, Draco's own hawthorn wand in his hand as he gently touched Draco's temple. He tried not to flinch as the stimulating spell jolted through him with more strength than usually intended. Harry then moved down to his ankle and healed the bone. The fragments forcefully stitched themselves together with a wrenching pain that drew a cry from Draco's throat.

"Sorry," Harry winced. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Draco said, finally noticing their surroundings. They were in a forest, surrounded by tall trees and rocky outcroppings. The air was cool, so Draco guessed they were at a higher elevation than London. "Where are we?"

"Can you sit up?" Harry helped him to rise. "How does your leg feel?"

"It's fine, thank you," Draco noticed that these woods were not impregnated with Harry's magic signature. With only the immediate overflow wafting off of him, he wasn't nearly as overwhelmed. "Why are we here?"

"I don't know how you got here," Harry said. "I didn't mean for you to come with me."

"I told you not to Disapparate," Draco dusted himself off. "Potter, stop dodging the question."

"It's just a place I like to come to," Harry said evasively.

"Potter."

"You're going to say something nasty," Harry moved away and rubbed his neck.

"If you're going to tell me you came out here to die without hurting anyone you're damn right I'm going to say something nasty," Draco snapped.

"No," Harry rolled his eyes. "I buried my wand out here."

Draco gave him a withering look. "Not quite as bad, but still breathtakingly daft."

"I gave up magic," Harry said again.

"Then put it on a shelf!" Draco shouted again.

"You don't get it," Harry waved his hand and walked away, his feet crunching through the deadfall as he made his way downhill towards a small stream.

"You're right, I don't," Draco followed him. "What could possibly be so awful that you would quit magic entirely?"

"You don't understand what it was like," Harry called over his shoulder. "First that Boy who Lived crap, then Tom Riddle this and Voldemort that, then maybe I'm only being kept alive to be slaughtered, then having to live up to the false bloody notion that I saved the world, then expected to be Harry Potter Auror Extraordinaire. And none of it was my choosing, every decision was made for me by everyone else."

"You don't think I understand what it's like to have others make choices for me?" Draco scoffed as he followed Harry along the bank of the stream.

"Not like me," Harry stopped and looked around, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't think I'm in the right place."

"Not like you?" Draco grabbed Harry's shoulder and spun him around. "Do you honestly believe that? Do you honestly, after all this time, still subscribe to the idea that I was just an evil prat who, at the ripe old age of sixteen, was capable of making those kinds of choices?"

"We all made choices at sixteen," Harry yanked his arm out of Draco's grasp. "I'm not trying to fight with you, Malfoy. I'm just telling you why I left."

"And I'm trying to tell you that you're not the only one who suffered," Draco said. "But you're the only one who left."

"Leave off, Malfoy," Harry muttered. He walked upstream again.

"Have you met Granger and Weasel's baby?" Draco called. "Or did you put your own selfish needs ahead of theirs?"

"Don't talk about them," Harry whirled around and pointed angrily at Draco. An intense wash of magic rolled over him, nearly knocking him back a step. He was treading in dangerous waters but it needed to be said.

"You last saw them eight months ago," Draco pulled Harry's letter out of his pocket with a sneer. "You left this whinging, whining note and abandoned your best friends just when they were expecting their first child. She can't be more than six months old, Potter. You didn't even wait two months to meet her."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry shouted. The satiny sweet swell of magic took on a singed coppery edge and smacked him in the chest like a physical strike. Draco staggered back again and held his hands up in concession.

"Okay, let's just calm down," he said. He folded up the letter and stuffed it back into his pocket.

Harry turned away and continued his search. They were silent, Harry hunting for familiar terrain, Draco following. They walked well up the length of the riverbed before finally stopping for a rest. Harry's stomach growled audibly.

"I didn't think I would forget where I buried it," he said. "I didn't bring any supplies."

"Don't Disapparate again," Draco said. "You'll either kill me or whoever is around where you arrive." He looked around to fix the location in his mind. "Wait here."

oOo

Draco popped back home and threw food and water and other supplies into a bag. After a moment's thought he added a few healing salves and potions, then finally dropped in a bottle of Firewhiskey. Bidding the house elves farewell again he DIsapparated back to the forest.

When he landed he found himself standing in a pile of rubble. He looked around but the area appeared different from when he left. Several boulders that littered the ground had been smashed into shards and fragments. Harry was standing ankle-deep in the stream, swishing his hands through the water.

"What happened?" Draco dropped his bag.

"I tried wandless magic again," Harry looked up with a grimace. "I thought I could control the damage out here." He held up his bleeding hands and showed the deep lacerations that crisscrossed his palms.

He bent over again and went back to irrigating his wounds. Just then his glasses slipped down his nose and fell from his face. He scrambled to catch them but they slipped through his injured fingers and plunged into the water.

"Shit," he cursed. "Accio glasses!"

A mass of rocky debris with his glasses caught up in the center hurled itself at him. He threw his arms up as the rocks and muck pummeled him around the head and shoulders. His glasses fell back into the water and were lost in the swirl.

Draco jumped into the stream and searched for the lost spectacles. He splashed with the current but could see no sign of them. He called out, "Accio glasses!" and well downriver they burst from the water and flew to his hand.

Harry stared at him, covered in river mud with pebbles in his hair, hands still raw and bleeding. Draco knew what he was thinking. In their youth Draco would have been more likely to laugh at his loss, or even go out of his way to crush the glasses himself. Help was not expected.

Draco slowly raised his wand and leveled it at his former rival. Harry watched him nervously, his hands useless and his magic too powerful to risk any defensive moves. His eyes locked onto the tip of the hawthorn wand and he waited.

"Scourgify," Draco said, and instantly Harry was clean. He sloshed over to him and offered his glasses. When Harry held up his hands to show that he couldn't hold them, Draco gently slid them onto Harry's face and resettled them across his nose. He paused with his hands above Harry's ears as his magic swirled in silky sweet rivulets around his body and between his legs. He wanted to close his eyes and savor the caress but instead he stepped back and took Harry by the elbow to lead him out of the water.

He cast a warm air spell, first to dry Harry and then himself. Once that was done he searched his bag for a healing potion that would fix Harry's hands.

"Come here," he said, drawing Harry over to a large flat boulder so they could sit. He dabbed some of the healing salve on Harry's left palm and massaged it in. When the cuts were closed he massaged the salve into his right hand.

He looked up to declare him healed but the words evaporated on his tongue. Harry was staring at him. He parted his lips as though to ask a question, but said nothing. His magic swirled around them both, billowing across the forest floor, slithering around Draco's body and filling his lungs with smokiness. He was lightheaded, awash in Harry's essence and still holding his healed hand in his lap.

Draco was helpless against the draw of Harry's magic. He leaned in, his breath shaky and his stomach turning flip flops. The point of Harry's tongue flicked out and moistened his lips. Draco tilted his head and hesitated, their faces so close that he could feel Harry's breath on his cheek. Harry's fingers curled, encircling Draco's hand and drawing him closer. They hovered just a hair's breadth apart, neither one brave enough to close the distance. Draco tilted his head again, trying to show his willingness. But if Harry didn't meet him in the middle, did it mean he didn't want to? Harry stroked his thumb over Draco's hand and smiled, the tip of his nose brushing Draco's.

Draco chickened out. He ducked his head, too afraid to touch Harry's lips with his own, six years of pent up desire crumbling under the fear of rejection. Harry's eyes remained locked on his as he retreated, his magic tugging at Draco as though reluctant to let go. Draco searched for something to say, something to distract himself from what he wasn't brave enough to do.

"Why did you leave?" he asked softly, partly to ground himself.

Harry withdrew his hand, and his magic withdrew with it. He squinted at the stream and leaned his elbows on his knees.

"Because I don't want to be me anymore," he said finally, his voice so fragile that Draco wanted to draw him into his arms.

"You're not that bad, Potter," Draco said instead. "And that's saying a lot coming from me."

Harry snickered gently and stared down at his fingers. "I never had any choice. Who knows who I could have been?"

"I've often wondered the same thing about myself." Draco said.

"Maybe I should be asking you why you didn't leave," Harry said, looking up at Draco with sincere curiosity.

Draco considered his question seriously for a moment. He had suffered, that was certain. He had seen things and done things that no one should have to experience. He'd endured more Cruciatus Curses than anyone his age should have endured. He still suffered nightmares from the memories. But he'd never considered leaving the Wizarding community.

"Because I love magic," he said finally. "And even though I can't change my past, I can change my future."

Harry dropped his head and gazed at his feet for a while. "You're different now," he said. "I wouldn't have expected that."

"You can be different, too, if that's what you want," Draco said. "No one can tell you who you are anymore."

"Tell that to my friends," Harry mumbled.

"I told my friends," Draco said. "Friends let you change. Anyone who doesn't isn't a friend." He sat back and eyed Harry appraisingly. "Do you know who my best friend is now? Millicent Bulstrode."

"Millicent?" Harry gawked in amazement.

"That's right. She's the best friend I've ever had. Who would have thought?" Draco said. "And you know who I'm not friends with anymore? Everyone else."

"Not Blaise or Pansy or Greg?" Harry asked.

"None of them," Draco said. "All of my friends are people I met after school. Even Millicent and I went our separate ways for two years before meeting up again and discovering we'd both changed."

Harry pondered that for a moment, and then his shoulders sagged. "I've been a selfish arse," he said.

"I won't argue that."

"What the hell have I done with my life?" Harry buried his face in his hands. "I've lost my friends. I've lost my wand, I'm about to be blown up by my own magic, and I'm getting life advice from Draco Malfoy."

"Things could be worse," Draco patted his shoulder and stood. "You could be in Potions class."