When Harry woke the next morning, he felt good. Better than he had felt in years. There was a tingling beneath his skin; a pleasant sort of vibration that made him think of the first days of the school year, when he had just arrived back at Hogwarts.

He climbed out of bed and was halfway through making breakfast before he realised he was humming.

Humming.

He'd never hummed in his life. He took it as a good sign, if slightly odd, and sat down in front of the fireplace. A wave of his wand re-lit the embers of the fire he had forgotten to douse before leaving for work last night, and a few more logs soon had the flames roaring comfortably.

It was a shame he had nothing to do to keep him occupied. He whistled for his owl Edwina, and penned a quick note to Ron and Hermione.

Hey guys, what're you up to today? Could you fit in lunch?

Then he leaned back in his chair and tried to resist the urge to call over one of his texts. Last night was an anomaly. Something had fallen out of balance, and the spell Harry had cast had fixed it. For some reason. End of story, but it couldn't happen again. He had no need to cast dark magic, and doing so could only lead to trouble.

He lifted his hand, an "accio" on his lips.

Edwina swooped back in the window. Harry reached up and grabbed the note, a little more eagerly than was necessary.

Sure thing, mate! Ron's untidy scrawl read. Give us five and we'll apparate to yours. Got loads to catch up on, can't wait!

Harry leaned back with a contented sigh. He hadn't seen them in so long; this was what he needed. He only hoped that Hermione wouldn't be able to sense that something was off. Even though whatever had happened was no longer an issue, that was never reason enough for her to stop pestering.

He got up out of his chair, deciding to dress a little warmer so that they could go somewhere nice for lunch and enjoy the outdoors. Before he had taken a step, Hermione's owl swooped in, dropped a note at his feet, and swooped out. Her feathers were rumpled, and her beak was held haughtily in the air, like Hedwig's had been whenever he had made her deliver a letter without asking nicely.

Sorry, Harry! Hermione seemed to have written very hastily. Change of plan. Can we make it the afternoon? My parents dropped by unexpectedly.

Since Marble - Hermione's owl - had already flown off, Hermione clearly wasn't expecting a reply. Which was fine, since of course they could change the time. Harry would just have to… think of something to do for the next few hours. No big deal.

A silver otter burst through the wall. "Harry!" Hermione's voice sounded out of breath. "We'll have to reschedule! My parents' house flooded the other night. They need my help cleaning everything. How's next week?"

The patronus faded away, clearly not expecting a response either, and Harry sat down again with a sigh. No more plans. He could owl Malfoy to see if he wanted to get a pint, but it wasn't even twelve, and he was probably with Parvati anyway.

When he looked down, there was a bag in his hand. A black pouch made of soft deer skin. He knew what was in it. He didn't know why it was in his hand.

Slowly, he opened the pouch and poured the runes into his hand. He reached for them, but stilled when he saw the soft light pulsating from several of them. That was new.

"Mannaz," he read quietly, turning the first rune over in his hand. It seemed to glow brighter.

He picked up the second. "Naudiz." He was certain now; both runes were glowing steadily brighter than they had before.

He picked up the third.

On reflex, he suddenly cast the runes aside. This was bad. This was really, really bad. Those runes had been purchased from a deceased estate auction filled with pureblood witches and wizards that would make Knockturn Alley look like a fair. Whatever sentience they had wouldn't be pleasant.

He stood and disapparated.

Malfoy blinked at him and remained unmoving in the doorway. "So, you came here?"

"Yes." Harry shifted from foot to foot. It was cold outside.

"You had nothing to do. And you didn't know if I was out. So you came here anyway." Malfoy repeated. For some reason, he seemed particularly disturbed by Harry's presence. If anything, he even looked paler than usual.

"Yes," Harry said again, an edge to his tone. Why was Malfoy being so difficult?

Finally, Malfoy sighed and opened the door. "Typical, really," he muttered to himself as Harry moved past with a grateful sigh. "Listen, about last night," he began as he followed Harry into the living room.

Harry heard Malfoy pause and then curse softly behind him.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, not wanting Malfoy to think too deeply about the way Harry had acted yesterday.

Malfoy visibly relaxed.

"It's bloody cold out there," Harry said for a change of subject, looking around Malfoy's living room. The fire was lit, and the room looked surprisingly homely, even with the highly sophisticated chaise lounge and ottomans.

He didn't come here often. When they did anything after work, it was at the pub or at Harry's. Harry took a seat on an ottoman close to the fire.

Malfoy sat down in his armchair, where he had obviously been reading.

"I thought you might be out with Parvati," Harry said, because the silence was tense and strange.

Malfoy frowned, like he hadn't been listening, and then blinked in understanding. "Oh, right. No. We're going out tonight." He swung his legs up underneath himself and Harry blinked in surprise. He looked relaxed, content. Except for the expression on his face that suggested something had crawled up his nose and died there.

Harry squinted. Malfoy also looked faintly… nervous? It hit him. Malfoy must be worried about his date tonight.

Harry grinned. "So, it sounds like you love her then?"

Malfoy's eyes widened. He tried to talk too quickly and ended up choking. When he could finally breathe again, he stared at Harry for several incredulous seconds before speaking.

"No."

Harry kept grinning.

Malfoy pulled a face. "No, I do not, Potter. Besides," he continued with a sneer, "Malfoys do not love."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Love makes you weak and vulnerable." Malfoy lifted his chin slightly. "Particularly since it's barely ever reciprocated. Malfoys care for people, certainly. And we like to date," he grinned lasciviously. "But we do not love."

"But," Harry began, then paused. "Your mother and father love each other, don't they?" he finished finally.

Malfoy laughed. "They are partners. They support each other. Respect each other. Care for each other. But love is a weakness to be used against you."

There was a long silence. "Sounds very lonely," Harry said.

Malfoy made a rude noise. The silence continued.

"Speaking of which," he said suddenly. Then his face paled and he shook his head. "I mean-" He put his feet down abruptly and sat up straight. "Potter, why on earth do you have an open bottle of Amortentia on your bookshelf?"

Harry froze. He didn't know Malfoy had seen it. The dozen excuses he had had in the back of his mind for if Malfoy had seen the bottle were suddenly absent. He tried desperately to think of a new one, and hoped Malfoy didn't notice that he was suddenly giving a rather sterling impression of a fish.

Malfoy paused, taking in Harry's discomfort. Realisation crossed his features.

"Potter," he said quietly. "How much is still in your apartment? How much did you-" He stopped, his face suddenly stricken. "The air," he said faintly.

He jumped up, grabbed Harry, and all but threw them into the fireplace.

When they emerged in Harry's apartment, Malfoy went ballistic. Harry could hardly see through the destruction of spells Malfoy cast. His couch burst, shredding instantaneously and covering the lounge in a sea of fluff and feathers.

"Protego!" Malfoy yelled angrily, stopping the worst of the mess from obstructing his vision, and continuing to hurl curses around the room.

Harry watched, open-mouthed and reluctant for the first time in his life to approach Malfoy. The single-minded ferocity with which he was tearing apart Harry's apartment was both breath-taking and terrifying. Even when they dueled, it was never like this. A part of them both was always holding back.

He had never seen Malfoy let loose before. It was mesmerizing.

When he was finished, all that Malfoy had managed to find was a small bookcase of historical texts and Harry's skull collection. It was a testament to the strength of Harry's wards, which Harry was most certainly not going to point out right now.

Malfoy stared at him, his chest heaving and his eyes glinting dangerously. "Where. Is. The. Rest?" he asked slowly, enunciating every syllable.

Harry lifted his wand, not taking his eyes off Malfoy, and waved it once, slowly. Through a haze floating dust, they saw everything materialise. Harry watched Malfoy as he looked around, analysing, counting.

"You didn't move it," he said, his shoulders stiff. "You didn't move any of it." He turned back to face Harry.

Harry flinched. "I-" He stopped. "No."

"Combustio," Malfoy said quietly. Flames shot from his wand, and all of the bookcases caught alight. Screams filled the air, raising the hair on the back of Harry's neck.

Harry swore and pulled out his wand. He could douse the flames in time, rescue some of it at least.

Instead, he found himself pointing his wand at Malfoy and screaming "Crucio!"

The curse rebounded off Malfoy's shield charm, which he had obviously cast between them well before Harry had drawn his wand. Harry stared down at his wand in horror, while Malfoy's expression remained unchanged. Around them, the fire burned hotter.

Malfoy waved his wand so that the shield extended over both of them. The heat disappeared immediately.

"Let me see your arm."

Harry held his wrist forward, not even thinking of arguing when Malfoy's face looked like that. Malfoy glanced down and closed his eyes involuntarily when he saw the marks.

"It's already started, you bloody moron," he said through gritted teeth. "The magic must have already sunk in too deep. And then, what? You tried to remove one book as a token effort? The rest objected, didn't they? And now you're using them. Am I right?"

He doused the flames and dropped the shield. He continued to stare at Harry, waiting for an answer.

Harry nodded slowly. The room felt strange. Lighter, like the pressure in the air had shifted.

Malfoy waved his wand again, and the burned, charred remains of Harry's most prized possessions disappeared, including the items that wouldn't burn. "There was no other way," he said quietly, taking a step toward Harry. He reached out as if to touch him on the shoulder, but pulled back at the last second. "It would call to you no matter where it was." He smiled ruefully; it was a strange look for him. "You pulled an Unforgivable out on me. Surely, you see how serious this is now?"

Harry nodded again, feeling like he was responding from behind a wall. His emotions were dulled. He was in shock.

And the strangest thing was that Malfoy seemed to understand. Whether from personal experience, or simply his proximity to dark objects during his formative years, he understood what was going on and he didn't judge. It was a stark contrast to Hermione.

Although Harry was now very, very certain that he didn't want to get on Malfoy's bad side about this.

He looked up into Malfoy's calm gaze and felt something inside him stir faintly. It was strange, but the dulled and faintly delusional part of his senses likened the sensation to how he thought he should feel when looking at his dates across the dinner table. With how he had almost felt about Ginny.

Malfoy took a step back. "Let's get you to St Mungo's," he said briskly. "They're bound by confidentiality, and we need to make sure it's all out of your system."

He held the Floo powder out to Harry. With a last, lingering look at his apartment - now destroyed beyond recognition - Harry took the powder and shouted "St Mungo's" into the flames.

A/N I'm a bit sick, so I hope this chapter came out alright :/