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Part Six

Harry awoke fairly late in the morning the following day, feeling neither rested nor calm. He'd eventually fallen back asleep after his dream, but his subconscious was obviously preoccupied with his ex-girlfriend's words, as his thoughts in sleep had been plagued by images of blond hair, a sharp jaw, and grey, piercing eyes.

Eyes which belonged to, Harry reminded himself sharply, his current bed companion, who was still curled up in a fluffy ball and sleeping. It was almost impossible to associate the cat with the man, although, Harry had to admit, they did share many of the same mannerisms. The haughty, I'm-better-than-you glare being the main one. He smiled to himself at that, but mingled with it was a feeling of unease; in ten days' time, Draco the cat was going to be replaced by Draco the man, and Harry honestly didn't know how he felt about that. Especially after certain revelations from the previous night.

It was as if his mind was a lock box filled with thoughts inaccessible to him, and to which Ginny had held the key, and now it had been open, a bunch of crap that Harry wasn't entirely sure he was ready for came pouring out. How could he have not known he was attracted to Draco? A man who, until very recently, he thought had simply irritated the piss out of him? Was there something structurally wrong with his brain, or something? Had sharing part of his mind with an insane megalomaniac for the better part of two decades caused the part of his brain that understood romance and attraction to simply curl up in a ball and die?

And the worst part of this was, Harry realised, was that Draco almost certainly now knew how he felt. Because he'd been right there, in the room, when Ginny had uttered those bombshell words: You fancy the pants off him. Which wasn't going to be awkward at all.

Harry was as certain as he could be that Draco was understanding language. Well, he didn't think that the cat was capable of understanding the complete works of Shakespeare again just yet, but Draco did seem to have a good enough grasp of conversation to understand what was going on. At the beginning of this whole mess, back when Draco had first been cursed, Harry was sure that, for all intents and purposes, he was a cat, with no hint of the man within. There was very little human about him in those first few days. But as time moved on and the date for his return to his human state drew nearer, Harry had become more and more sure that his own mind was returning amongst the feline instincts. And he'd almost definitely understood the conversation from the previous night, which opened up a whole other can of weirdness. Because even if Harry did, apparently, have a crush on his Auror partner, Human Draco had never given Harry any indication that he felt anything in terms of attraction for him. At least, Harry didn't think he had. Apparently he wasn't very good at spotting things like that. Admittedly, the cat had shown him nothing but affection, but that was most likely due to the fact that Harry was the one taking care of him, rather than some expression of romantic feelings that human Draco held for him. And even on the off chance that his feelings- whatever the fuck they were- were, indeed, reciprocated, what did Harry want to do about it? And what if they did fancy the pants off each other, get together, have it all go tits up, and still have to somehow work together? What if-

Harry suddenly cut off all thought, groaned aloud and rubbed his hands over his eyes. He felt a headache beginning to brew, and his left eye socket was starting to pound. That was a lot of pondering, for someone who had been awake all of twenty minutes and apparently had the emotional range of a teaspoon, as Hermione would no doubt say. One step, one insane problem at a time, he decided. But first coffee. Yes, he thought, the world would all seem better with coffee.

The world didn't seem better with coffee as it turned out, but it did give Harry a much needed caffeine hit which, combined with a long, lengthy shower in which he tried- and failed miserably- to ignore his vivid dream from the previous night (resulting in him finally giving in to his craving body and seeing to the 'problem' in what seemed to be record time), had the desired effect of waking him up fully. He made sure Draco was outside the bedroom while he dressed, suddenly extremely grateful he'd always insisted on their mutual modesty during this strange month of them living together. He made an early lunch for him and Draco, having slept through breakfast, and sat down at the kitchen table, chewing his mouthful of whatever the bloody hell it was he'd made without tasting it at all, his mind distracted by Draco once more.

After lunch he tried to take his mind off things with some telly, but every blond head, every pair of grey eyes… oh fuck it, every man on the screen reminded Harry of Draco. How could he have been so blind, he asked himself for what felt like the billionth time. Part of him refused to accept he was a total imbecile and wondered if Ginny had been wrong, he hadn't had feelings, and she had simply planted the idea that wouldn't sod off in his brain. But Harry strongly suspected that wasn't the case, that he was indeed simply an oblivious moron, and even if it was the case, it still didn't detract from the fact that he was attracted to Malfoy now- a realisation that still had him feeling like he was suspended above the ground on a large helium balloon and just waiting for someone to come along and pop it, no doubt sending him tumbling headfirst into a pool of crocodile-infested water. It was dangerous, and possibly unwelcome, but Harry couldn't deny that it was still exciting. And completely and utterly terrifyingly alien to him. He wished he could talk to Ron and Hermione about it rather than just his ex-girlfriend, but the whole, 'my cat is Draco Malfoy and I fancy him. The man, not the cat, I'm not a perverted deviant' just wasn't going to end well.

He watched an advert for a Muggle confectionary called 'Milky Bar' and when he thought the cartoon kid advertising it looked like it could be his and Draco's son, what with the blond hair and round glasses, he realised he really needed to turn the telly off and go outside with the real-life people. Now. He stood up abruptly, dumping a grumpy-looking Draco (who had been, as always, asleep on his lap) onto the floor, grabbed his coat and threw the door to Grimmauld Place open, before stepping into the biting February weather. Maybe he'd go and see Ginny, and she could tell him how long he'd been sexually attracted to Draco bloody Malfoy for, because he was buggered if he knew.

Harry had given way too much thought to Draco Malfoy over the week's recuperation he had. He'd tried to keep busy and had seen his friends, had dinner at the Weasleys', and cleaned his house from top to bottom Muggle-style, but it was always at the back of his mind. As he prepared to return to work the following morning, he was sure of one thing. He'd definitely fallen for Draco, somehow or other. And he still wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Returning to the Ministry on the eleventh of February, just four days before Draco's return to human form, certainly wasn't helping to take Harry's mind off things. There were reminders of his Auror partner everywhere: his favourite mug- the one with built-in charm that began to yell if the contents got too cold- in the cupboard, his half empty packet of real Brazilian ground filter coffee ("You don't seriously expect me to drink that instant swill, do you, Potter, you utter plebeian?"), and the desk in his cubicle, perfectly neat almost to the point of obsessive, with separate drawers for each type of stationery and arranged according to both size and colour, his files coded and cross-referenced with little sticky dots which obviously meant something to the human Draco Malfoy.

Harry smiled at each of these things, took his cup of utter plebeian instant coffee to his own- incredibly scruffy- desk, spent ten minutes searching for the file he was looking for, another five rummaging in his drawers for a quill which didn't have the tip broken off from, then sat down to drink his now too-cold coffee. He began to read the file- which was on the case he and Auror Fairweather had been working on when Harry was hurt, taking notes where necessary, and writing up his report for Robards. It was incredibly dull. Harry couldn't wait until the following week when he and Draco would be back out in the field together. He'd given up trying to convince himself he only wanted Malfoy back because they worked well together, and he was certainly looking forward to Malfoy's return, but there was a definite note of sadness there too; Harry couldn't deny he was going to miss having a cat around the place.

It was going to be incredibly quiet once Draco had moved back to the Manor with his parents. Harry had, despite himself, enjoyed his month with a cat and, feelings for Draco aside, he wasn't sure he could go back to being the only heartbeat in the house again. It had been nice, coming home and having someone there pleased to see him, someone to share his evenings with, and the house was once again going to feel rather soulless with just him in it. Realising that he'd read the same paragraph three times, and he still didn't have a clue what it was about, Harry quickly gulped another mouthful of cold coffee and forced himself to concentrate.

He had lunch with Ron in the Ministry canteen and was joined by Hermione, who'd come up from MLE, halfway through. Harry even caught a glimpse of Jacqueline; she stared at him with narrowed eyes. Harry gave her a small wave which was dripping with sarcasm, and returned to his lunch.

"You're awfully quiet, Harry, are you sure you're ready to be back at work?" said Hermione.

"I'm fine," Harry replied. Then deciding his friends could at least know part of the truth, said, "Er, Godric is going back on Tuesday. I've decided not to keep him." Those lying words hurt a lot more than he'd expected them to.

"Are you barmy?" Ron said, not bothering to keep his voice down and causing a table full of people from Magical Games and Sports to turn around and stare at them. "You love that bloody animal!"

"I know," Harry said. "But I'm out for a lot of the day, and he needs company. It's not fair to him."

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" said Hermione, taking his hand. "You do seem extremely fond of him."

"He has to go, and that's final," Harry replied, a little harsher than he meant to. "Sorry. Look, I just can't keep him, he has to leave, and can that be the end of it please?"

"All right, mate," Ron said doubtfully, before shovelling another forkful of linguini into his mouth. Hermione didn't say anything but was giving him a weird look- her 'there's something you're not telling us' look which made Harry feel uneasy. She simply gave him a small nod. Harry pushed the rest of his chicken pie away, untouched. His stomach was in knots, and he suddenly didn't feel much like eating.

There was always the possibility, Harry thought later on that afternoon when he was not reading the report he was supposed to be annotating (again), that Draco would return to normal and have no recollection of the previous month. Harry didn't know what he would do in that situation- an irate and confused Malfoy who couldn't recall the last month of his life and was for some reason in Harry's house wasn't exactly appealing. He could hear Malfoy's voice in his head now: Care to explain, Potter, why the bloody fuck I am trapped inside your hovel of a home, wandless? Harry shuddered. He really hoped Draco would remember the past month. At least remember his kindness, and how Harry had looked after him, anyway, because Harry knew that whatever happened (or didn't happen) between them, this month had irrevocably changed their relationship, both professional and personal, and pretending otherwise was sure to send Harry batty.

Harry spent his final night with Draco as a cat by cooking them both a nice dinner of fillet steak (it was Draco's first meal as a cat, so Harry thought it was symbolic), with added salad for Harry. He didn't think Kingsley was going to miss the additional cost to the annual Ministry budget. Kingsley had been to see him that afternoon to thank Harry and pass on a message to Draco to see him and Robards at once at the Ministry, as soon as he was human again, and had told him, with a slight accusation in his tone, that the bill for keeping Draco had come to about two hundred Galleons: a small fortune. Harry refused to feel guilty about that, however, as he seared two thick, juicy steaks to perfection and set them aside to rest whilst he made the salad. He was determined to enjoy his meal; it was most likely going to be cheese on toast for him the following evening without having Draco's fussiness to cater for.

"Tuck in," he said to Draco, cutting the steak into smaller chunks and setting them down on a saucer in front of him. "I wonder what you'll be having tomorrow night. Something delicious cooked by your house-elves, no doubt. That includes vegetables."

"Meow," said Draco softly, and began to devour his steak heartily.

After dinner, Harry washed up quickly, took a few photos of Draco on his 'final' night to go with the others he'd taken over the past month, then began to bag up all the cat items in the house. He managed to fill a plastic bin bag with toys- hardly any of which had been used, as Draco much preferred to play with household junk like a ball of tin foil- which surprised him; he hadn't realised he'd accumulated so much crap. Still, Harry thought the house looked emptier without them, which was ridiculous as a squeaky ball didn't exactly take up much space. It was just his mind playing tricks.

After all the cat paraphernalia had been collated, shrunken, and placed in a drawer in the kitchen, Harry made himself a mug of hot chocolate and slumped in his favourite armchair to watch a film. Predictably, Draco jumped onto his lap, purring and kneading his chest with his paws. Harry smiled fondly and scratched the cat's head, until the purring stopped as Draco fell asleep.

"Look at us," Harry said to the sleeping cat. "It's Valentine's Day- Ron and Hermione are together, Ginny's with her boyfriend, and I'm spending it with a bloody moggy." He rubbed Draco's ears. "I have to say, Draco, I'm looking forward to you returning. But I'm really going to miss you, you stupid furry git." He jumped slightly when Draco licked his finger, and was quite certain it was a 'me, too'.

Harry watched the end of his film, turned off the TV, then picked Draco up off his lap.

"Bed," he said. "C'mon, we've probably got an eventful day tomorrow."

With that he left the room and climbed the stairs, for his last night with the creature whose human counterpart had apparently flipped his world.

Harry stirred groggily from sleep, feeling pleasantly warm and comfortable. He was extremely unwilling to move from the blankets, but turned over, pulled the duvet up to his chin and closed his eyes again. He was working the weekend shift this week, so had the day off; no reason to hurry to wake up…

"Good morning, Potter."

Harry's eyes flew open and he scrambled for his glasses on his bedside table. He shoved them hastily onto his face, then spun around in the bed.

Draco Malfoy, whole and human, was lying next to him, looking thoroughly relaxed. In his hand he was holding the collar that Harry had placed around his neck all those weeks ago, and was examining it with extreme distaste.

"Red and gold, Potter? Really?" Malfoy drawled. "As much as I'm sure it amused your tiny brain to dress me in Gryffindor colours, did it ever occur to you that such warm, fiery tones should not have been placed on an animal of my colouring? I'm sure ice blue, lilac or emerald would have been far more flattering to my white fur. Not that I'd expect a monolithic troglodyte like you to appreciate that, given your woeful fashion sense."

Harry continued to stare, his mouth agape. He tried to speak, but found no words came.

"Cat got your tongue?" Draco said, then laughed at his own joke. Harry simply blinked. Eventually he managed to say, "You're human again."

"Astute as ever I see, Potter," Malfoy replied. "That's what I've always deeply admired about you as an Auror: your observation skills."

"You, um, remember it then? The last month I mean?" Harry said, wondering vaguely if this was all some weird dream and he hadn't actually woken up yet. Malfoy gave him a look that plainly said, 'obviously'.

"If I didn't, Potter, I'd be asking you to explain why I was lying in your bed naked. Clearly I remember."

Harry's mouth went dry. Draco Malfoy was lying in his bed. Human. And without a scrap of clothing on. Oh Merlin.

"Why are you naked?" he rasped.

"I guess the spell didn't supply clothing." Draco's voice was full of sarcasm. "I returned wearing only what I had on as a feline. Although you did nearly choke me with that fucking collar. I'm glad it has a safety clasp on it, which popped open once my neck swelled."

"I thought it was going to be later this morning you returned," Harry said, trying desperately to draw his thoughts away from where they were straying. "You know, around eleven. That's when you were hit with the spell."

"Apparently not," Malfoy said, one eyebrow raised. "Still, this way was rather more fun, don't you think? This way you get to finally wake up with a man in your bed."

Harry felt his face flame. Draco plainly remembered Harry's words. Which wasn't good. At all. He opened his mouth to say something, but Draco did the last thing he was expecting. He leant over and kissed Harry on the lips.

It was only a brief, closed-mouth kiss, one that lasted mere seconds, but as Malfoy pulled away, Harry could feel his lips tinging. It would have been enough to turn him on, Harry had no doubt about that, had he not been so completely and utterly confused.

"Not only have you now woken up with a man, but you kissed him in the morning, too," Malfoy smirked, looking far too pleased with himself, and Harry wondered what the bloody hell he was playing at.

"Um, breakfast," he stammered, tossing back the duvet and leaping out of bed. I'll meet you downstairs in the kitchen. You, um, remember the way? Of course you do. Take what you want from my wardrobe to wear, if there's something you don't find completely horrible, that is." He said all this very quickly, not looking at Malfoy once, then all but sprinted to his bedroom door, flung it open, and rand down the stairs. He could hear Malfoy's soft chuckle coming from the bedroom as he did so.

Harry put the kettle on the stove to boil and pulled the jar of Nescafé out of the cupboard, then, remembering Malfoy's tastes at work, put it back and opted for the unopened packet of filter he'd bought about six months ago after he'd received a coffee filter from Percy for his birthday. He dug the unused item out of a cupboard, pulled the packaging off, added the number of teaspoonfuls of coffee that the packet recommended, and poured on boiling water. He realised his hands were shaking slightly. Draco came downstairs while it was brewing, dressed in a pair of Harry's jeans and a warm grey jumper, which, Harry thought, looked a lot better on Draco than it did on him. He still looked incredibly smug as he entered, but, as his eyes fell onto the still set-up litter tray (Harry had thought it might have been needed in the morning), his face fell and a vivid red colour flooded his cheeks. It was Harry's turn to laugh.

"Yep, that was your toilet," Harry replied happily, pouring a large mug of coffee for Draco. "I even saw you using it a few times."

It was Draco's turn to flush, and stammer, and gape, and Harry relished in it. Everything was much clearer now Draco was a human once more. This was what Harry wanted. Well, not exactly this awkwardness, but this banter, the little power-shifts, and the good-natured joshing. Harry really, really wanted to be the one to cause Draco Malfoy to lose his usual poise and composure.

"Where is my wand, Potter?" Draco asked. Harry, still grinning like a lunatic, went into the living room and pulled Draco's wand from the dresser. He returned, handing it to him.

"Evanesco!" Draco cried loudly, almost as soon as the wand was in his hand. The litter tray promptly disappeared. He then repeated the spell on the open bag of litter, blasting both into nonexistence. "Never mention that again, Potter," Draco said, drawing the cup to his lips. He drank deeply, passing no comment on its lack of quality, so Harry took that to mean it had met Draco's standards.

"Breakfast?" Harry said, pulling a thick white sliced loaf out of the breadbin. Draco winced.

"Do you have to eat that refined carbohydrate rubbish? Don't you have a loaf of multigrain wholemeal? Or, better yet, rye?"

Harry sighed. There were obviously a lot more that this Draco shared with his feline form in addition to a piercing glare.

"No," he replied shortly. "Just be thankful I'm serving it to you at the table, from a proper china plate, rather than making you eat it off the floor." He grinned in victory as Draco's blush returned, and stood up to begin frying some bacon.

He served them both bacon sandwiches (in white bread) and was amused to note that Draco devoured his in all of four bites with a look of pleasure, despite his moaning about the bread. Harry smiled fondly at this difficult, impossible man, trying to ignore the feeling of Snitches fluttering in his stomach.

After breakfast, Harry remembered Kingsley's message from yesterday, and reluctantly passed it on, informing Draco that he was expected to meet with the Minister for Magic and Head of the Auror Office that morning. Draco paled slightly at this, no doubt expecting some sort of bollocking, but otherwise looked composed and simply nodded his head.

"I should probably go soon and speak with my parents anyway," he said, and the fact that Draco was leaving, properly leaving, filled Harry with a cold dread. "By the way, how was my absence explained to them?"

"We told them you were working on a secret mission in Slovakia and was incommunicado for the month," Harry said. "And everyone else thought you were ill with a severe bout of Spattergroit." Draco looked scandalised at this, but said nothing. Instead he looked awkward then stood up. Harry mirrored him.

"Well, I guess I should…" Draco said.

"Um, yeah, OK."

"I'll return the clothes to you tomorrow at work, if I still have a job," Draco said. "I'll have the house-elves launder them."

"Right. No rush," Harry said.

"Yes, Potter, there is," Draco replied. "They're the only two decent items of clothing in your wardrobe." He picked his wand up from the kitchen table and walked out to the living room, passing the hall on the way. "You need to do something about her," he said, indicating Walburga Black's portrait. "Insane old bat."

"She's your relative," Harry laughed. "Um, see you at work, Draco."

If Draco was surprised to hear Harry use his first name, he didn't show it. Instead, a small flicker of uncertainly crossed his face.

"Potter," he said as he stopped by Harry's fireplace, "this last month has been utterly peculiar for me. Being a… cat- well, it left me vulnerable, and Malfoys don't like to show vulnerability. It could have been a month of extreme unpleasantness for me, and you made it not so. Thank you." Then he held out his hand.

The irony wasn't lost on Harry, and the slight nervousness on Draco's face meant it wasn't on him, either. However, they weren't eleven any longer, Draco wasn't the same snotty nosed little bastard he had been then, and Harry had no hesitation in accepting his hand. He grasped it firmly in his, noting as he did so that it was warm, the skin soft. He forced himself to keep breathing normally.

"Oh, by the way, can I keep this?" Draco said, pulling the Gryffindor collar from his pocket, and twisted it snakelike between his fingers. Harry's face lit up into a true grin and he nodded. Draco offered a small but genuine smile in return.

"Bye," he said finally. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder, threw it into the flames, called, "The Ministry of Magic!" and disappeared.

Harry stood, staring at the spot from which Draco had vanished, full of fresh determination. He'd never just walked away from a situation before, and he wasn't about to start now. Because everything was suddenly so clear: he wanted Draco, and he was going to fight to have him, with everything he had to give.

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Hope you enjoyed this update. The next chapter of this is the last part :)