BloodyRose90- No, Harry definitely is no stranger to back door fun ;)

HPfan29- it will be somewhat complicated

FantasyFiend09- unfortunately, you won't find out how either of them really feels about the whole thing right away.

MrBuster- Tak! I hope that was right :)

greeneyed-angiebaby- here's the build up. And I actually laughed out loud at your National Inquirer allusion

jointheclub- thanks for breaking your silence :0 Glad you're enjoying it!

Thanks also to ClaireBouldwin, xSingleXdrarryXShipper2x, cassy1994, Deby Magid, and WitchRavenFox for reading and reviewing! And thanks for the growing list of faves and alerts.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

Day sixty-four, Sunday

Draco bound up the stairs to the flat.

"Harry!" he called. "I've found someone to help."

Harry looked up from his position in the window seat. He had been reading another one of Draco's mystery novels, and Draco startled him.

"You scared the shit out of me, Drake. I was just at the part when the killer was looking in the window at the runaway girl."

Laughing, Draco told him again, "But I've found someone to help you."

"Help me do what?"

"Why, get your memory back, of course," Draco replied.

"Oh," Harry said quietly.

"There's a wizard in Frankfurt, Germany, a Spell Master who has worked extensively on amnesia brought on by spells. Well, specifically his spells."

Harry frowned. "You mean, he purposely makes people have amnesia?"

"Yes, but it's some sort of therapy," Draco explained. "Anyway, he may be able to restore some or all of your memory."

"What makes you think so? How did you find this man?" Harry questioned. He'd never really doubted Draco before, but something didn't seem right.

Draco hesitated. He wanted to tell Harry the whole truth. He knew he should have told him who Ron and Hermione really were. Everything had gotten so out of hand. In the beginning, he had planned on telling Harry all that he needed to know, eventually. But he hadn't counted on falling for him. There was so much more at stake now than a simple agreement between an Auror and a former Death Eater.

"Harry, you know I have been withholding some information from you. You're smart enough to have figured that out."

Harry nodded.

"And yet, you haven't you pressed for answers. You haven't put me in a spot, when you easily could have. You could have walked away, knowing that, as the Chosen One, anyone off the street would be willing to help you."

Harry looked away. He was as much responsible for the charade as Draco.

"I don't want to be the Chosen One. I don't want to be Harry Potter. I don't want my memory back."

"But you have to."

"Why?"

"Uh, I don't know. You just do." Draco couldn't really come up with a compelling reason. Why wouldn't he want to remember? He seemed fascinated by the things Draco told him about magic and his adventurous life. "Isn't it frustrating not to know the details of your own life?"

Harry shrugged. "From what you've told me so far, Potter sounds like a complete git. Why would I want to be him?"

"You weren't the git, I was," Draco said. "Besides, I don't know everything about you. In fact, there's much more I don't know. There may be important things."

"Such as?"

"Maybe you've reconciled with your Aunt and Uncle and you have Sunday supper with them every week."

Harry laughed. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Well, how do you know you're not married or something? Or perhaps you have a child."

Harry held up his hand. "No ring. And you said I didn't have a child."

"That I know of. I only know what's been in the Prophet, and what I've seen here. You know we didn't always get along."

"Precisely," Harry said. "Why would I want to remember that? By now, everyone has learned to get along without me. I want to stay with you."

"Eventually, someone will find us out," Draco told him. "We can't keep hiding you forever. I want to be able to be completely honest with you. The way you've been with me."

Harry hung his head. "I haven't been completely honest."

Head cocked to one side, Draco questioned, "What do you mean?"

"I think maybe my magic is starting to come back."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Because it isn't something I can consciously do. A few times, strange things happened. The only explanation is that I really do have magic like you."

Draco smirked. "You didn't believe me when I told you that you were powerful. I wonder if that's why you couldn't perform any magic."

"I picked up your wand once," Harry said. "It sort of vibrated, tugged at me. I can't really describe it, but it scared me, so I threw it down. And one time I wanted the salt shaker across the table, but I was too lazy to get up and reach for it," Harry laughed. "It just slid across the table to me. Just a foot or so, but it definitely moved. When I tried to do it again on purpose, I couldn't."

"This is all the more reason for you to go see that wizard in Germany. At the very least to get your magic back."

"I'd give it up for you."

"What?" Draco asked, incredulous. "No."

"Yes. I would. I would rather be with you as I am, than have to be someone I don't remember being. You said yourself that we didn't always get along. What if I get my memory back and I . . . " Harry could hardly finish the thought. "What if I don't want to be with you anymore?"

"It's a chance we'll both have to take," Draco said.

"We don't have to." Harry got up from the window seat and walked to Draco. He took Draco's hand in his and looked at him in all seriousness. "Let's move to Paris together. If Harry Potter is so well known in London, we'll leave. You can still tell me all the things weighing on your mind. But it won't make a difference. I love you. I'll always love you. Even though you don't say it, I know you love me too. I think you secretly don't want me to remember."

Draco looked away in shame. Harry was correct, but he'd hoped he hadn't been that obvious.

"Let's stop trying," Harry said. "Let's just be happy. We can move away and start over in Paris, in the new shop."

The temptation was overpowering. Draco had been almost wishing he wouldn't be able to restore Harry's memory. But in that case, he would have had to turn him over to Ron. Draco was trying so desperately hard to do the right thing by Harry. What was the right thing? Keep Harry oblivious, but happy? Or let him go, to lose the love he finally found? Either way, Draco would have to live with the guilt of what Harry would give up.

"Are you certain?" he asked. "You should really give it some thought."

"Absolutely certain. Drake, I have given this a lot of thought. Since the first time we made love, I've been trying to find a way to admit that I don't want to go back to who I was. I like being Harry Redmond. I love this life. I can't imagine being without you." Harry bit his lip. "Is this something you want?"

"Selfishly so."

"Oh, Drake, you won't regret it." Harry hugged him tightly. "I'll make you happier than you've ever been."

"You already have," Draco whispered.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

That evening, the pair made their plans. The more it seemed a reality, the more excited Draco grew about the prospect of moving to Paris with Harry.

The following day, Draco left Mirabelle and Harry in charge of the shop while he apparated off to Paris. He removed the sign in the flat window and began tidying up in preparation for their move. The space was slightly bigger than the shop in Knockturn Alley, as was the apothecary downstairs. It was also in a much more reputable part of town in the greater wizarding area of Paris.

Draco had convinced himself that this was the best possible move for them. There was much less prejudice against him than in London. And they'd be less likely to run into any of Harry's friends or fans. They could live a wonderful life there in the most romantic city in the world.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

Day sixty-five, Monday

Mirabelle greeted a customer while Harry was at the back of the shop weighing out some asphodel for another. Other than those two, traffic had been relatively slow, even for a Thursday.

Harry kept glancing at the clock, anxiously awaiting Draco's return.

"He said he won't be back until this evening, Harry," Mirabelle teased him. "Clock watching won't make him come back any faster."

She was thrilled for the pair. Though she didn't know the details of their story, she believed Harry brought out the best in her mentor. He was even seen laughing in the shop occasionally. And on slow days, he and Harry often left the shop for lunch, leaving Mirabelle temporarily in charge.

"I just can't wait for him to get back," Harry blushed.

"I know. I think it's adorable," she told him. "I hope some day someone waits for me so anxiously."

"What about your young man, Warren?"

"Oh, we have fun but . . ."

"There are no butterflies?"

Mirabelle giggled. "Is that what it feels like when you're with Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry giggled too, but in a more manly fashion. "Do you think it's silly?"

"No, I think it's lovely," she smiled.

"You know, you're going to be in charge here. I think it would be all right for you to call him Draco."

She shrugged. "Perhaps." Then she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, I forgot to order us lunch. Would you mind running to the cafe to pick something up? I'm sure I can manage here alone for a while."

"No problem. Actually, I wanted to go to the bookstore anyway. Draco is putting in a muggle type stove that I'll be able to use by myself. I want to get a cookbook so I can cook more than just breakfast food," he laughed.

He took some coins from the petty cash drawer and wrote down Mirabelle's order.

"I shouldn't be more than an hour," Harry said as he walked out the door. The day was warm and sunny, and Harry had a spring in his step. Nothing could spoil his mood.

He placed the food order at Mirabelle's favorite cafe, then strolled to Flourish & Blott's. He smiled as he entered, feeling in particularly friendly spirits. Not even the same snobby greeter from Harry's first trip to the shop could bring him down. Harry simply walked up to him and asked for the books in which he was interested.

"Could you please tell me if you have any muggle cookbooks?" Harry smiled widely, aware that his very presence was irritating the man.

"Muggle cookbooks?" the greeter repeated with a snobbish sneer on his face. "How quaint. We may have something back in the muggle section," he felt obligated to inform Harry. The man dismissively waved toward the back of the shop.

Figuring that was as much information as he would get out of the clerk, Harry made his way to the small muggle section.

As small as it was, the section was still large enough to overwhelm Harry. He shrugged and began looking through the shelves, which seemed not to be as neat and orderly as the magical volumes.

Finally, he stumbled upon the specific section he was looking for. A young woman stood near by. She appeared too engrossed in her own search to notice Harry.

He scratched his head and pulled out one of the cookbooks from the shelf. He leafed through it and sighed. It appeared too advanced for him, and he replaced it.

The young woman, having chosen a book, glanced at Harry, who looked confused. She took pity on him an offered her assistance.

"Do you need any help?"

"Sorry?" He turned toward the girl. She had warm brown eyes and an even warmer smile.

"You look a bit lost here. And, not to brag, but I probably know the books in here better than the clerks," she laughed. Her laugh was like music. Harry liked her immediately.

"Yes, thank you," he smiled back. "That clerk doesn't seem to like me much and just pointed me back here to find things on my own."

"What are you looking for?"

"I need a cookbook," Harry replied.

"Well, this is the muggle section," the girl told him.

"That's what I want. A muggle cookbook."

The girl cocked her head. "Have we met before?"

"I think I'd remember someone as kind as you," Harry answered.

"Hmm. Your voice seems familiar. You're not on the Wizard Wireless Network, are you?"

"No." Harry disguised his voice slightly, thinking he ought to be cautious.

Shaking the thought, the young woman plucked a book from the shelf. "I like this one. Are you a beginner, or more advanced?"

"Well, I'm pretty good at breakfast foods," Harry said proudly. "My Aunt Petunia made me learn. But I'd like to expand my repertoire."

The girl gaped at Harry.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked when her face paled.

She looked closely at him. "Are you certain we haven't met?"

"Quite," he answered. "But where are my manners? I'm Redmond. Harry Redmond." He held out his hand.

She tentatively took his hand. "Hermione," she said, looking for any sign of recognition.

"Thank you Hermione. This book looks to be just what I need." He tried to pull his hand away, but she held tight.

Hermione turned his hand back side up.

"I must not tell lies," she whispered.

"Excuse me?" Harry began to panic.

"Harry? It's me, Hermione. Don't you remember me?"

He managed to pull his hand away, and dropping the book, bolted for the door.

"Wait!" she shouted, giving chase.

"Miss! You'll have to pay for those books!" the greeter stopped her before she was able to leave the store.

She threw her books on the counter. "Hold them for me!" she shouted and took off down the alley. Hermione was able to spot Harry, who didn't look like Harry just as he turned the corner.

Hermione made her way through Knockturn Alley and saw Harry walking swiftly through. He turned to see if she was still following, then began walking faster.

"Harry! Stop! Please."

The Alley was fairly empty, as most people were milling near the cafes and bakery for lunch. Harry felt exposed. But if he could make it to the Dragon's Lair, he could sneak up to Draco's flat where Hermione wouldn't be able to follow.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione shouted. "I'm your best friend. Don't make me hex you!"

She said it with such authority, Harry slowed and turned to face her. For some reason, he believed her.

"How do you know me?"

"I'd know you anywhere, even with that glamour you're wearing. Your voice gave it away at first. Harry, why are you pretending to be someone else?"

"I'm not. I am Harry Redmond. I'm sorry miss, but I don't know you." He saw the pain in her eyes as he made his confession.

"But you stopped when I said your name," Hermione reasoned.

"I hardly remember being him at all." He couldn't explain why he told her that information. He'd been able to keep up the pretense of being Redmond with everyone else. At that point, it wasn't in fact, pretense at all. He had become Harry Redmond for all intents and purposes. But this girl was the first to figure out who he really was. Granted, he'd had little interaction with others and he supposed only those very close to him would recognize his voice. And she didn't appear to hold any malice towards him.

"You've lost your memory? But you remember your name," she said, piecing it together. "Ron was right," she mumbled to herself.

"You knew me just by my voice?" he asked.

"And you mentioned Aunt Petunia. That was a huge giveaway. The scar on your hand was the clincher, though."

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything. He told me not to divulge anything personal about Potter," Harry berated himself.

"You are Potter," Hermione said. "Who told you not to say anything? Are you being held against your will?"

"No, miss-"

"Mrs. . . Weasley."

Harry's eyes widened as he remembered the girl Draco was yelling at in the shop weeks ago. "Weasley? Like Ron Weasley?"

Heartened by the mention of her husband's name, Hermione smiled. "Yes. Do you remember him?"

Shaking his head, Harry replied. "Not the way you're hoping. I've met him briefly a couple of times since I lost my memory."

She rolled her eyes. "Leave it to Ron not to recognize his best friend."

"His what? Surely you don't mean me? I'm friends with that git?" Noting the indignant look on her face, Harry explained, "Well, he was a git to me and my companion."

"So, you haven't been alone all this time. Who was your companion? Where have you been hiding?"

Before Harry could answer, with a lie of some sort, Hermione let out a squeal.

"Oh! Teddy will be so happy. He's been beside himself. He misses you so."

"Who's Teddy?" Harry's brow furrowed. Could he possibly have left a lover behind?

"Teddy is your Godson."

"I didn't think I had anyone. My parents are dead. And my Aunt and Uncle pretty much hate me."

"Harry, you've got lots of people who love and need you."

"Like this Teddy?"

"Him most of all. He needs your guidance and support. Andromeda has been doing the best she can, but she just wants to be a doting grandmother."

"Isn't that what parents are for? Why aren't they taking care of him?"

"Harry," she put her hand on his arm. "Tonks and Remus are dead. You really don't remember any of them?"

Harry shook his head. "How old is he?"

"Seven."

"And he has no parents? Like me?"

"No, not like you. He has you and Andromeda." Hermione gasped and held her hand to her mouth. "Molly. Oh, she'll be so relieved. She never got over losing Fred, but it was slowly getting better. Then you went missing. It was like losing a son all over again."

Hermione refrained long enough and couldn't resist hugging Harry. "Oh, Harry, everyone will be so thrilled to see you. We should go to the Ministry straightaway and see about retrieving your memories."

"Right now?" Harry glanced down the Alley. The wooden sign announcing the Dragon's Lair swung in a gentle breeze. He was mere yards from oblivious bliss. He cursed himself for stopping when Hermione called his name.

In the end, Harry Potter and Harry Redmond were one and the same. He loved Draco and wanted to spend the rest of his days with him. But Harry Potter would never turn away from a child who needed him. And neither could Harry Redmond. He hoped Draco would understand. Harry planned to come back to explain it all.

"All right," he sighed. "I'll go with you, for this Teddy's sake."

"What about your companion? Is there someone you want to contact before we go?" she asked.

Glancing at the sign once more, Harry answered, "Let's just go before I change my mind."

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

At quarter past eight, Draco approached the Dragon's Lair with a late supper in hand from one of the French take away restaurants near the new shop. He stopped short as he reached for the handle to find it unlocked and the lights on.

It was odd, as Mirabelle should have closed up the shop over an hour prior.

The moment he stepped inside, he was assailed by a babbling and obviously distraught Mirabelle.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, I'm so glad you're back. I didn't know what to do." She paced in front of him.

"What's happened? Where's Harry?"

"I'm not sure. I sent him to pick up lunch hours ago, but he never returned.

"Perhaps he came back while you were busy with a customer and he went up to the flat."

"No." She shook her head. "Pardon me, sir, but I went up there to look already."

"Was everything all right when he left?"

"Yes. He was very excited about moving and he was in excellent spirits. I've been so worried."

"Where did he go? I'll go out and look for him," Draco said as he put down the food.

"He went to Pete's cafe. And then he said he wanted to go to the bookstore. "I've owled both places. Pete said he placed the order but never picked it up. The clerk at Flourish and Blott's sent a cursory note saying Harry may have been in. He couldn't quite recall. But he definitely didn't purchase anything."

"I'll try those places in person." Draco glanced at his watch. "Damn, the book shop is probably closed by now. Perhaps I should check St. Mungo's. Just in case."

Mirabelle could see the worry on his face.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

Day sixty-eight, Thursday

It took the Spell Master three days to restore Harry's memories. Fortunately for the hero, the German wizard, the same one Draco had tracked down, had been able to counter act Nazar Duncan's botch job. So much of Harry's memories were affected, the pair worked day and night until the Spell Master was satisfied with Harry's recovery. His magic had come back as strong as ever along with the memories. And a short visit to St. Mungo's when all was said and done confirmed Harry's physical and magical health.

However, Harry was still required to speak to a counselor as well. Aurors were always required to speak with a counselor after any trauma suffered in the course of their duties. Usually when one was forced to use excessive force or kill a suspect, or when a partner is lost. Harry hated the counselors. They all acted as though they understood. He knew they could not possibly understand how it felt to kill, when they hadn't done it themselves. The woman who evaluated Harry was nice enough and bright enough he supposed. But she was easily fooled by the story he gave her. He knew the system- act upset, agree with the counselor, admit to feelings he didn't have, and get a clean bill of mental health.

To say that Harry was conflicted when he got his old memories back was the understatement of the year. He simultaneously felt love and hate for the same man, was in an openly gay relationship while still in the closet, and had two very different futures planned for himself.

He cursed Malfoy for showing him what his life could be.

Only after regaining his memory did Harry realize all that Malfoy kept from him. Harry was convinced it was all to show himself in a better light. Sure, Malfoy told him some unflattering details about himself-things Harry Potter would most likely never have found out. But even that must have been a calculated measure to gain Harry's trust.

Harry was angry. Angry at Malfoy for drawing him in. Angry at himself for being drawn in. And part of him was angry with Hermione for guilting him into seeking the truth.

The counselor was mesmerized by Harry's tale of wandering the countryside and eventually being taken in by a kind muggle woman living in a remote area. He wasn't even certain himself how he came up with vivid details that never happened.

In the end, he convinced her that he suffered no ill effects and that he was ready to resume working. Her official verdict was that Harry could return to desk duties after a week's rest. After that, it would be up to Kingsley Shacklebolt to decide when he could return to full duties. Harry didn't fight it. It was more than he'd hoped for. After being away for over two months, he had a lot of things to catch up on. Not the least of which was Teddy.

Harry wasn't sure how he was going to make it up to the boy for abandoning him, even if it was unintentional. He was a bright boy, and he hoped Teddy would understand.

As anxious as he was to see his Godson, there was another visit he needed to pay first . . .

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

I know. Sorry for the cliffhanger