Sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoy this chapter. :D

And the Clock Keeps Ticking

Six

Raines' expression when he saw Harry materialise in the middle of his living room was priceless. Harry would have enjoyed it if he wasn't on the verge of a breakdown. As it was, he only managed to look at Raines, urging his voice to come out of his throat. "Help me."

"Bugger," Raines blurted out, eyes wide and unblinking. "Bugger, bugger, bugger. I need to check my eyes. Or my sanity. Did you just—did you—" He moved his hands frantically. "—like that, just—poof!"

"I did," said Harry quickly. "I know it's hard to believe, but—but I need your help."

"Whoa, wait a minute, Harry Potter," exclaimed Raines. "Don't come near me."

Harry made a frustrated noise. "You're a wizard, too, for Merlin's sake—"

"Is that why you always say 'Merlin this' and 'Merlin that'? Oh wow, and I thought you were just that eccentric," said Raines suddenly, punching his own palm as if he had just solved the biggest mystery on Earth. Harry messed up his hair in distress.

"Look, I really need your help, can't you just come with me?"

"Why?" asked Raines flatly, his gaze turning sceptical so quickly that Harry was caught off-guard. "Why should I help you?"

Harry took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. He needed Raines' cooperation, and he needed it fast. "You want to know who you are, right? This is your only chance to regain your memories."

"What do you mean this is my only chance?" asked Raines, still unwavering. "It's really not funny. You told me I was a wizard, and then you popped out of nowhere, and now you're telling me I can get my memories back?"

"Oh fuck it, why are you making this difficult?" Harry almost shouted. "We're running out of time!"

"Well, how am I supposed to trust you?" Raines extended his arms theatrically. "Have you ever stopped and thought what it'd feel like to be me? Have you?"

Harry halted at that. Had he ever thought how Raines felt all this time? No, of course not—his mind was so full of Malfoy that he never paused to consider anything from Raines' point of view. But Malfoy was more—much more important, especially now. And this wasn't really the time to talk about feelings.

"Would you," Harry licked his lips, "would you believe me if I said you were important to me?"

Raines stared at him, his arms dropped to his sides.

"I never thought of you as important until recently, so even I was shocked," Harry admitted dryly. "You were this arrogant, self-important git who could only talk about your father all the time, and you cheated in games so naturally like breathing, and, and you were so competitive that I couldn't help but be competitive, too. . ."

"Harry Potter—"

". . . you were a coward who always put your own safety before everything else, but then you proved to be really brave when it came to protecting your family. You were a master of hiding your troubles until you had to break down, you couldn't kill, you lied to bloody save me, and I . . ." Harry shook his head. ". . . I almost killed you and I regret that even though you almost killed Ron. And I hated you. But what would those years of Hogwarts have been without you being annoying?"

"They'd be boring," Raines said without hesitation. "From what I'm hearing, it seems like our history was extraordinary, and your life would be ordinary without me in it."

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"But Harry Potter," said Raines slowly, "That sounded more like a film than a life. I'm more of a romcom fan—killing and being killed are not my cup of tea, you see."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, though it came out a bit strained. "Trust me, I wished countless times that there wouldn't any be killing involved."

"Was it really that bad? Wait, is it possible that we're characters in a film, and that's why we're wizards?" Raines asked, but it was clear that he couldn't keep the mocking and the scepticism out of his voice. "Because that'd be brilliant. I like sci-fi, see—"

"Raines," Harry cut in, pleading. "I don't care if you don't believe me. I don't care if you think this is all bullshit. I'm taking you no matter what."

Raines stared, stepped back and said, "That's terribly selfish of you."

"I know. But I don't care. Not this time," said Harry. He moved forward, noting the way Raines' expression turned guarded, his body stiffened and maybe it was panic that he was trying so hard to mask. Fear of knowing the truth, fear of losing himself, fear of things Harry couldn't really comprehend. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry," Harry went on, before grabbing Raines' arm and Apparating.

Once they arrived at Ron and Hermione's flat, Raines gripped Harry's arm, his other hand clutching his chest. "Bloody hell," he said. His face was so pale that it reminded Harry of Malfoy's condition even more. "What was that?"

"Harry?" Hermione called out, her tone tentative. "Are you injured? And—is that Malfoy?"

Harry looked up to find Hermione watching Raines with obvious disbelief, a thick book laid forgotten at her feet. Harry put his hand over Raines'. "I'm fine. It's—it's Malfoy. I need your help."

"What? But—" Hermione seemed to be at a loss. "Ron Firecalled and said that Malfoy's a ghost, but—"

"What? Did Ron tell anyone aside from you? Did he tell Robards?" Harry almost swore for not realising it sooner. Of course Ron wouldn't keep it from Robards—how else could he explain the mysterious manner the Fiendfyre died?

"What the hell's happening here?" Raines demanded as soon as he could stand straight again, snatching his hand off Harry's. "Where is this? What did you do?" He went back and forth between Harry and Hermione's faces, wildly searching for answers.

"Harry," began Hermione cautiously. "He doesn't sound like Malfoy. Do you mind explaining it to me?"

Harry closed his eyes, trying to block the voices in his head, all screaming that the longer he wasted his time, the more dangerous it was for Malfoy. But he didn't have any choice if he wanted them to help, did he?

"The spell," said Harry, looking up again. "I need you to perform the spell that could stop the curse."

Hermione opened her mouth for several seconds, but no sound came out—undoubtedly her brain was running so fast that her voice couldn't quite keep up. In the end she managed, "Do you need it now? Is this urgent?"

"Yes, yes." Harry could hear desperation in his own voice. "I promise I'll tell you everything later, but now—"

"Is—is there anything I should know before I cast the spell? A special condition of some sort that could affect the spell?" She eyed Raines as she said it, to which Harry saw Raines responding with a glare.

"Yes, it's a ritual." Harry promptly groped inside his robe pocket, grateful that he'd been taking the box with him everywhere. He enlarged it and quickly whispered Malfoy's name. As the box was open, he handed the torn page of Mrs Malfoy's diary to Hermione. "Malfoy was turned into a Muggle. I've added the complete steps at the back, and I think we can still reverse it because somehow the ritual wasn't completed."

Hermione scanned the paper, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. "And this is the final step? Oh, God. Who has—"

"His mother," answered Harry hastily. "Can you do something about it?"

"Oh, I don't know, Harry." Hermione shook her head, looking so distracted. "This is intriguing, the whole thing is, but if Malfoy has become a Muggle, I think his magic is gone for good."

"No, it hasn't," Harry countered. "Like I said, the ritual wasn't completed. Malfoy's magic still exists."

Hermione gazed at Raines. "But . . ."

"Yeah, well, don't look at me like that, I don't know anything. Is what I think even important?" asked Raines bitterly. "Harry Potter here doesn't think so."

"I think you should just shut up because you don't know anything," said Harry through gritted teeth. Suddenly the anger was more profound than before. "You don't know what you—the real you is experiencing right now. You don't know that—"

"What the fuck did you mean by the real me?" shouted Raines. "Of course I wouldn't understand, you never tried to explain—"

"I did try to explain it to you," Harry shouted back. "But you didn't want to believe it!"

"How could I, when the only thing you had to say was how I couldn't be my own past self!"

"But I did tell you about—"

"Silencio!

Harry's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, his retort died in his throat. Raines seemed to be in the same predicament, so Harry directed his glare to Hermione.

"I'll release you both if you promise not to fight and instead focus on the problem at hand," said Hermione, her wand pointed at Harry specifically. Lowering it, she raised her chin in a manner that Harry had known so well since the first time he met her on the Hogwarts Express. "From what I've gathered so far, this is the Muggle Malfoy, he doesn't know anything about magic. And you seem to think that there's another Malfoy—the real Malfoy, as you put it—and you said that his magic still exists . . . meaning that the ghost of Malfoy Ron saw this afternoon is in fact Malfoy's magic. Am I correct?"

Harry's mouth stayed agape, this time in shock. He could only nod weakly. Hermione seemed pleased and continued, "Ron told me Malfoy's ghost had helped you both. I can only assume that he has all of Malfoy's memories, too. And since his mother was the one who did this . . . yes, I understand her motive."

Harry nodded again, and from his peripheral, he could see Raines frown at Hermione's deduction.

"Now Harry, you want me to help you reverse the ritual. Why? You know that the spell can only help temporarily, it won't stop the curse from spreading for long."

Harry tried to answer, but he still had no voice. Hermione looked as though she had just remembered about the Silencing Charm and quickly ended it. Harry rubbed his throat, aware that she still hadn't released Raines.

"If you come with me, you'll understand," said Harry. "I know that we still haven't found a way to reverse the ritual, but there are some notes, you can look at them in the Manor. And we're running out of time as we speak . . . Malfoy's magic is . . ." Harry faltered, unable to bring himself to say it. "As long as we have that spell, if—if you could just reverse the ritual and cast that spell, we can still try to find a way to break the curse."

Hermione only gazed at him, but Harry knew she must have seen something, understood something. "Oh, Harry, tell me you're not . . ." She stopped and decided to hug him. It was all Harry could do not to break down all over again. "I can't say I agree with you, but I'll see what I can do."

Harry hugged her back, sniffling in her bushy hair. "Thank you."

Releasing him, Hermione glanced at Raines. She took a rather long time before she removed the Silencing Charm. Raines remained silent, though, and if there was a time when Harry hated himself, it was when he saw Raines looking so resigned, so defeated and hopeless because of Harry.

"I'm not going to apologise," said Harry again.

"I know. Can't say I blame you," said Raines.

"You can. Maybe you really should."

Raines refused to look at Harry and the apathetic mask was back in place. Harry took a deep breath—once, twice. He, too, refused to meet Hermione's eyes, urging himself to ignore the burning shame. The clock in Hermione's living room was ticking obnoxiously loud, reminding Harry time and again that Malfoy could disappear any second. Therefore he stilled himself, taking both Hermione and Raines' hands to Apparate.

. .

. .

All the while from the moment they reached the Manor gate until they passed through the layers of wards by the front door, Raines was silent and pale. He did keep throwing his glance everywhere as far as he could see, but the look on his face was far from fascinated. If anything, the further they went inside the Manor, the paler he got. Harry, too, had to keep reminding himself that it was necessary, that it was time for Raines to find out who he was. And Hermione—if she had felt uncomfortable about visiting the Malfoy Manor, she masked it very well. Harry thought the way she kept looking straight ahead perhaps had something to do with it.

Malfoy, as predicted, was sitting on his parents' bed, staring at the wall opposite him. He still looked terribly fragile, flickering to nothingness every now and then. Harry held Hermione's hand, waiting by the chamber's door, waiting for Malfoy to acknowledge them.

"Welcome, Granger, Raines," said Malfoy after a moment of nerve-wrenching silence. He looked at Harry, but not for long. He seemed to be more interested in studying the stunned Raines.

"Malfoy," greeted Hermione, her tone wary. "I take it your magic is drained because of the Fiendfyre?"

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "You understand?"

Hermione nodded. "If you let me study the ritual, the notes Harry said you've prepared, maybe I could help."

Malfoy laughed at that, dry to the point that it was nearly rude. "See, this is why I was so certain that you'd ask for her help, Potter," he said. "Not that I'm complaining. It saves me from having to explain things."

"She's not the only one I asked for help," said Harry.

"I could see that." Malfoy tilted his head to the side. "But you're not under the delusion that I'll ever give my consent to what you're planning to do, are you?"

"At this point, I think Raines should be the one who decides," said Harry.

Malfoy seemed a bit taken aback, but it wasn't nearly as strong as Raines's reaction.

"What?" Raines asked.

Harry sighed, wishing he could skip this part and just get to action. "I know I was an arsehole for dragging you forcibly, and I said I wouldn't apologise, so I won't. But that is—Draco Malfoy. He is you. Your magic. Your memory. And I—" He hesitated, fighting the urge to avoid Raines' gaze. "I'm hoping you can be your old self again."

Raines was staring at Harry incredulously, his lips slightly parted. Hermione squeezed Harry's hand, and for the first time in nearly five months, Harry was grateful to have her. When Raines spoke again, he sounded furious. "My old self? Do you want me to disappear? Oh fuck me, of course you do!"

Harry spluttered. "That's not what I—"

"Of course that's what you mean! Isn't that why you look so guilty?" Raines snapped. He pointed at Malfoy, who was watching him with wide eyes. "Clearly I'm so different from him, have you ever—have you ever thought that I don't want to lose myself, to lose the only thing I have now, to a complete stranger?"

"He's not a stra—"

"For me he is," bellowed Raines. His face was red and his breathing harsh. "I want to know my past, I long for memories, but—" He stopped, blinking repeatedly as he sniffed. "Do you know why I love romcoms?"

Harry didn't answer—he couldn't even see how Malfoy and Hermione might be reacting to this.

"Because they're so normal, so bloody day to day, that I imagined I could be a character in one. That maybe, if I kept watching, I'd remember something."

There was a long silence before Harry braced himself to speak again, ". . . if you want, you'll have your past again."

"But will it end the life of Ian Raines?" asked Raines, his expression made Harry wish he hadn't said anything. "I never—never thought that it'd be this scary."

Harry had nothing to say to that. Fortunately, Hermione had.

"Then why don't you think about it? I need time to continue the research, meanwhile you could decide whether you want to be reunited with your magic or not."

"Wait a minute, Granger," Malfoy interrupted. "The problem isn't all about whether we're reunited or not, is it?"

Hermione chewed her lip, looking pained. "I—I guess not."

"Hermione—"

"He deserves to know, Harry," said Hermione. "About the curse."

"The curse," repeated Raines. He laughed humourlessly and looked like he was on the verge of being hysterical. "I always got the feeling that my life wasn't as ordinary as those films, but surely this is a little drastic?" He seemed to sober up after a while, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Never mind. If you have anything more to add, you'd better say it all now. While I'm still sane enough."

Hermione squeezed Harry's hand again. He knew what she meant, but . . . "The spell will give us time," was the only thing he could say.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Malfoy, suddenly floating beside Harry. He pinned Raines with an unreadable gaze and Raines stared back at him with something that looked like a challenge. Yet Malfoy continued to talk to Harry without taking his attention off Raines. "Have you found a way to break the curse?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Hermione beat him to it. "It's temporary, but it's progress. We can stall the curse from activating, but since it's never been tried on a real cursed person . . . we can't guarantee its success."

"Hermione," exclaimed Harry in shock. "But you said—"

"We conducted experiments, Harry, from what we have collected so far. But you should have known that we don't have anyone who has the Dark Mark on our side. We wanted to try it on Malfoy and hoped it would work, but now that Malfoy has been saved as a Muggle, I really can't say if our decision to experiment on him is wise," she admitted, her eyes apologetic. Harry could only stare at her dumbly, trying to process it all but his brain failed to get on board. "But I understand why you'd want me to cast the spell. I really do."

"I don't," said Malfoy. "Is liking me enough of a reason for you to risk Raines' life?"

Harry shook his head, looking down at his trainers. "I don't want to risk anyone's life. I just want you to live. Is that too much to ask?"

"But I am alive," countered Malfoy. "As Ian Raines. You put me at risk, too, if you insist on doing this, Potter."

Harry held back a frustrated sob, not wanting to lift his face, but he could imagine how Malfoy looked when he said that.

"I think it's way too early for us to give up," said Hermione firmly. "I'm here to help, let me see your notes. We may be able to help both of you—Raines and Malfoy."

Harry jerked his face up, hope flaring in his chest. Hermione was looking obstinate, her eyes alight with determination. Even Raines seemed to be openly speechless at this. But Malfoy was different—he was much more used to hiding things, and if he was hopeful, he hid it very well.

"Now, Granger, a bit overly confident, are we?" Malfoy sneered. "How could you be so sure you could help us?"

"Don't twist my words, Malfoy. I said 'I might be able to help'. There's no harm in trying until the time's up. Your mother found a way to dodge the curse, the Ministry found a way to stall the curse, so there will be a way to break the curse, too. Every question always has answers," said Hermione, her nose high as she said it. Harry wanted to hug her gratefully, if only he wasn't too busy trying not to think about the 'time's up'.

As if on cue, Malfoy flickered and vanished. It was almost thirty seconds or maybe even longer before he appeared again. Harry's legs almost gave up.

"Please," said Harry, his voice broke. "Hermione, hurry."

Hermione nodded in alert. "Show me the libra—"

"Let me talk to Potter," Malfoy cut in. When Harry wanted to protest, Malfoy held his hand up. "Just the two of us. Thank you."

Hermione exchanged glances with Raines. Malfoy didn't seem fazed when Raines was only too happy to obey, slamming the door closed behind him. Hermione took longer than him, nevertheless she did leave the chamber. Harry gulped and stared at Malfoy, who was by now so close to him.

"Mal—"

"Are you really sure about this?" asked Malfoy, his voice soft. And the way he looked at Harry, the way he whispered, were the complete opposite of what he showed in front of Hermione and Raines. "Do you really want me to unite with my body?"

"I only want you to—"

"—live, I know." Malfoy nodded. "But I'm more worried about what will happen next. Will you be all right? Will you be able to accept whatever may happen?"

Harry wanted to smash his head against the wall. The whole thing was so confusing that he didn't know what he should say anymore.

"I don't know! Raines won't accept . . ."

"Forget about Raines," said Malfoy to Harry's surprise. "He is me. It doesn't matter. Tell me, Potter. Tell me what you want. Give me your word."

"I want . . ." said Harry, "I want you."

Malfoy searched Harry's eyes, his thumbs ghosting over Harry's cheekbones. After what seemed like forever, he nodded firmly. "I understand."

Harry didn't know what that meant—not until it was too late. By the time he regained control over both his mind and body, Malfoy had already gone through the door. Harry rushed to follow, banging the door open and freezing upon what he came across.

"Harry," yelled Hermione in panic, her wand in hand, "I don't know why, but suddenly he just—!"

Malfoy was holding Raines' face, a wild wind swirling around them. Trying to extract himself, Raines clutched at Malfoy's wrist, his eyes wide and scared. But Malfoy merely stared back calmly, pinning Raines farther back and against the wall. His face inched closer and closer, until their foreheads touched. Harry thought they would stay that way, but he was wrong. Malfoy's form looked as though it was being absorbed into Raines, their silhouettes becoming a mess of blurs.

The moment Hermione's cry pierced Harry's consciousness, Malfoy had gone entirely.

"Oh fuck. Oh shit." Harry stormed towards where Raines—Malfoy was standing listlessly against the wall, his eyes empty. Hermione was already supporting him, slowly leading him to sit on the floor. "What did he do?" shouted Harry in distress.

"I think he knew how to get back into his body. Maybe he knew what his mother did to him," said Hermione frantically, her wand waving over Malfoy who remained unresponsive. "I just wish he'd warned us before he did that!"

"But it's impossible, I was the only one who found that last step! Why didn't he tell me if he knew how to reverse it?"

"Harry." Hermione shook her head, sounding impatient. "Do you honestly think Malfoy couldn't guess the last step of that ritual? His mother died, that's enough a proof for him to think that she sacrificed herself to perform it!"

Harry felt his stomach turn cold at the disclosure. "But—"

"And he might have felt something when he was in a close proximity to Raines. I just don't understand why he suddenly did that, when he clearly objected to it just fifteen minutes ago!"

Oh, fuck.

Harry watched Malfoy, who was now closing his eyes slowly. The colourful lights from Hermione's wand made everything feel even more unreal, as Harry tuned her voice out. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but remember—

I want you.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Harry forced himself to calm down. It didn't mean anything—Malfoy was back in his body again, and now they just had to find a way to stop the curse. He shouldn't assume the worst now that Malfoy had done what Harry wanted.

Except that Malfoy did it without preparation. He didn't even give Hermione time to search out a way to keep him alive.

"Merlin," said Hermione, and the way she almost whimpered in frustration did nothing to ease Harry's anxiousness. "It's showing up!"

Harry's eyes slid towards Malfoy's left arm, the denim sleeve of which was rolled up. The Dark Mark was faded, but it was there. Harry's breathing hitched in dread as the grey lines turned darker and darker.

"I need to cast the spell. We need to stall the curse," said Hermione. She was bending down, wholly disregarding Harry and muttering under her breath. He didn't mind, after all he didn't even understand what was happening. It was as if he was watching everything from under water—Hermione's voice, the lights from her wand, even Malfoy's figure seemed distorted and indistinct. It might have lasted for only a minute or maybe even an hour, Harry couldn't tell.

"Harry." Hermione nudged his shoulder, and Harry opened his eyes because somehow he had stopped looking at all. "Are you all right?" She studied him, squeezing his shoulder in what should have been reassuring, but ended up making Harry sick. "I'm finished. We just have to wait."

Harry tried to keep breathing. Malfoy looked like he was asleep—his Dark Mark was glowing green. Swallowing, Harry managed to ask, "Why isn't he awake?"

"I don't know," said Hermione. "Maybe his body's trying to recover his magic—after all he has almost drained it." Sighing, she sat back on her heels. "I think we should move him. We need to monitor his reaction to the spell."

"I'll take him to Grimmauld Place," said Harry.

"Harry, he might need some potions to keep him strong."

"Then you can prepare the potions."

Sighing again, Hermione rubbed her face. "Perhaps that's the best idea. We can't move him to St Mungo's without creating a ruckus."

"Kreacher," called Harry, not wanting to waste any more time. Hermione's eyebrows shot up in disapproval.

"Master is calling Kreacher?" asked Kreacher right after he popped beside Harry.

"Yes, please take Malfoy to Grimmauld Place."

"Harry, there's no need to ask Kreacher," Hermione chided.

"No, we need Kreacher," Harry countered. "I can't Apparate him out because of the wards and—I don't know if it's wise to use other spells on him. And I don't trust myself to carry him right now. Merlin, I don't even know if I could Apparate without Splinching him!"

Hermione looked pinched, but otherwise restrained herself from commenting further.

Kreacher observed Malfoy closely, his tiny eyes widening a fraction—probably because it was Malfoy. "Kreacher will take him to the House of Black." With that, he seized Malfoy's shoulder and Disapparated.

"Harry," began Hermione when Harry didn't say anything more. "We need to go, too."

Nodding, Harry let out his breath shakily. He had faced Voldemort and death. But this time, facing the possibility of losing someone he cared for—again—was a thousand times scarier. Especially if it was because of his own idiocy.

Pushing every single shattering thought aside, Harry tried to find his way out of the Manor.

. .

. .

When Malfoy woke up, it had been two days since he had been back in his own body. Hermione had started to fuss, worried that they would need to send him to St Mungo's if he still hadn't woken up. But thankfully, he did. Harry fretfully stood by the bed, restraining himself from crushing Malfoy with a hug while Malfoy blinked his sleep away. As he sat up on the bed and slowly turned towards Harry, he frowned and said, "Harry Potter."

Harry felt the world almost end at once.

"Malfoy," said Harry, his throat dry. "Please tell me you're not Raines."

Malfoy blinked, his frown deepening, and then he groaned, "Bloody hell, my head." He rubbed his head. "Merlin, it feels weird."

"What do you mean? Are you all right?" Harry promptly sat on the edge of the bed. Then he said in a daze, "You said 'Merlin'."

"Astute, Potter. I'm shocked you haven't been made a first-class Auror," said Malfoy with a roll of his eyes. He winced right after, but it was all Harry could do not to dance with joy right there and then. "Bloody hell, my head feels like it's going to split in two."

"I can, uhm, give you a headache potion," offered Harry, even though the only thing he wanted to do right now was to kiss Malfoy senseless. Malfoy raised his head from his hand, eyeing Harry.

"That'd be nice, Harry Potter," he said, sounding extremely tired. "Oh, honestly, this is confusing. I feel like there are two people in my head."

"Maybe you mean two sets of memories. You're only one person now," Harry pointed out.

Malfoy sighed. "I suppose. It feels weird, I know how I—how Raines felt when I forced him to unite. But I also know how I felt when I did that."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," Malfoy said simply. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Then so be it."

For a moment they fell into an awkward silence. Harry tried hard to keep his heartbeat quiet, but he suspected it could be heard even from the street outside. Malfoy flicked his gaze to Harry's lips and back to Harry's eyes again. All of a sudden Harry felt everything around him evaporate into oblivion, and there were only Malfoy and his blond hair and his pale complexion and his pointy chin.

"Oh."

Harry jolted in his seat, while Malfoy quickly looked away. Hermione was staring at them by the door, her mouth open wordlessly. She cleared her throat.

"Granger," said Malfoy. Harry wished he could cover his fluster that easily.

"Malfoy, you're awake," said Hermione lamely. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but mercifully didn't comment on Hermione's observation skills. "Anyway," she cleared her throat again,
"it's nice to know you're awake. I have a few potions for you."

"I hope there's one for a headache."

Hermione nodded, making her way towards the bedside table. She produced three vials from her pocket and set them on top of the table. "Drink them in the following order—red, purple and yellow. And this one is for your headache," she said, fishing out another vial, a transparent one.

"What are the other three?" Malfoy sounded suspicious, plus a bit miffed at being dictated to by Hermione. Harry hoped he wasn't going to have to be in the middle. He already had enough of that with Ron and Hermione and their infamous rows. Thankfully Hermione didn't take offence.

"The first two are to control your magical energy. I suspect your magic is growing steadily back in your body. The yellow one is a nutrient potion, since you didn't eat at all for two days."

Malfoy seemed to mull over the information, then muttered quietly, "I see."

"It's up to you whether you want to trust me or not. I only did it for Harry."

Harry felt his cheeks heat up.

"Don't get all worked up, I never said I wouldn't take them," said Malfoy, waving his hand dismissively. "By the way, where am I exactly?"

"Grimmauld Place, the Black house," answered Hermione, because Harry's brain had died the moment he remembered Malfoy was lying in his bed. "Now let's check your arm."

Rolling up his—Harry's pyjama sleeve, Malfoy bit his lower lip. "Everything seems to be normal."

Just as Malfoy said, the Dark Mark looked no different from the way it usually did. The green glow had dissipated, leaving a prominent black ink over Malfoy's skin. Hermione gestured with her wand, enveloping Malfoy's arm in another green glow.

"So far so good," said Hermione. "It reacts just like it should. If everything's all right, this should be effective for a couple of months before I need to cast it again."

"Brilliant. Now my life is completely dependent on a spell," said Malfoy sarcastically. He took a vial from the bedside table and downed it in one gulp.

"At least we have time to search for the counter curse," Harry quickly added. He knew Hermione had purposefully left out the fact that the next time she cast the spell, there was no guarantee that it would work again. And he knew what he had done the last two days—watching Malfoy sleep day and night—wasn't productive at all. But he wasn't going to let this chance of having Malfoy back slip from his fingers once more.

Perhaps the lack of response from Malfoy and Hermione wasn't a good sign, but Harry didn't care.

. .

. .

As it turned out, Ron hadn't said anything to Robards about Malfoy. The case was closed without any clear answers. If Robards were to investigate further, Harry was sure the Aurors would detect Malfoy's magical signature. However, Robards was too preoccupied by the fact that Harry and Ron had disobeyed him. Their beyond second-rate performance cost them a suspension—Robards ordered them to take garden leave until further notice. It was when Harry was in the middle of 'borrowing' some books from the Auror archive room, that Ron found him.

"Dark Arts, Harry?" Ron asked, but his tone was neither judging nor accusing. He was simply standing there, leaning against the doorframe and watching Harry.

Adding another book to the top of his pile on the floor, Harry nodded. "They're the books from Malfoy Manor."

"You do know they've put tracking spells on confiscated stuff? Especially the ones with, you know, Dark Arts?"

Harry nodded distractedly.

"The protection wards? Did you know about them? The alarm will set off the moment you bring them past this door, mate."

"I'm not going to take them out. I'm going to copy them."

Ron looked baffled, but then he groaned. "Hermione taught you, didn't she? It's weird enough that you're all buddy-buddy with Malfoy, but now Hermione, too."

"I'm not all buddy-buddy with him." Harry glared. He recited the incantation in his mind before muttering it out loud, swishing his wand in a complicated pattern. A moment later, the exact copies of the books on his left side appeared on his right side. Huffing in relief, he made a mental note to thank Hermione again later.

"Well, he did save us, so I'm not complaining," said Ron eventually, his voice strangled. "It just came as a—shock."

"It did, didn't it?" Harry couldn't help but grin a little. "Many strange things happened. And now that we're kind of sacked but not really, I need to get these books while I can." He shoved the copies into his satchel, magically charmed by Hermione, and shrunk it.

"Yeah, well, nice to know at least someone's not sad about being suspended," grumbled Ron. "I'll get back to clearing my desk," he said before walking away.

Harry sighed, eyeing the tiny satchel on his palm. He didn't have time to be sad about it when he had something bigger to worry about, did he?

Pocketing the satchel, Harry began to walk out of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Living with Malfoy hadn't been easy, and Harry would never be daft enough to think it would be easy. But this Malfoy had the annoying qualities of both the old Malfoy and Raines. Sometimes Harry wanted to throttle him for being so insufferable, especially when Malfoy was being cranky every time his body craved for a cigarette, but his pride wouldn't allow him to have one. Still, this Malfoy could also look at Harry with a soft gaze, and he could show that small smile that made Harry forgive him for being a prat instantly. And this Malfoy was real.

"Potter, seriously," said Malfoy when Harry couldn't stop staring at his supposedly sleeping face. "That's creepy."

Harry licked his lips, pretty sure his heart had just done a somersault. Malfoy was looking back at him, his hair tousled and eyelids droopy from sleep. Harry pretended to inspect the stripes on the pillow cover instead. "Kreacher never lets me sleep until noon."

"Who said I slept until noon?" Malfoy made a face. "If you must know, I woke up early. I was only having a nap."

"Well, Kreacher never allows me to have a nap either."

"I suspect that's because your uncanny House Elf likes me more than he likes you."

"You don't say." Harry sniffed.

"And the portrait downstairs—Great Aunt Walburga—is she ever quiet?"

"Never as long as I've lived here," said Harry wryly. He had learnt to ignore the portrait's existence, mainly because Hermione taught him a spell that could freeze portraits, making them like Muggle ones. If Malfoy thought she was never quiet, then it was time to freeze her again.

"Hmm," said Malfoy. He didn't say anything more, so Harry fidgeted with his sleeve, marvelling at the way the sun from the window made Malfoy's bare chest a shade more golden. It took him a while before he realised Malfoy was gazing back at him.

"Um."

Malfoy watched him some more. He reached up to poke Harry's cheek and said, "Come here."

If his heart had done a somersault before, it was dancing right now. Harry took off his robes, letting them fall to the floor. He slipped under the duvet still in his shirt and trousers, nudging Malfoy a bit to make some room. Malfoy complied, lying on his side so he could continue staring at Harry. Harry, too, positioned himself to face Malfoy, suddenly feeling the bed was too big that there was still space between them.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" asked Malfoy quietly.

"You're staring at me, too."

"I mean not just now, you git."

Harry wondered what he should say to that. Perhaps the truth was the best. "I just want to make sure that . . . you're real."

Malfoy snorted softly. "It's not like my ghost form was unreal."

"No, but it feels different," Harry tried again, "I wanted to make sure that you're warm, and that you're really Draco Malfoy."

"You're strangely stubborn about Raines." Malfoy sighed. Harry was about to defend himself, but Malfoy raised a hand to stop him. "No need to say anything. I understand."

So Harry let the subject drop, choosing to savour the moment by inspecting every curve and angle on Malfoy's face, every flex of muscles in his chest and shoulders.

"Can I touch you?" Harry asked. At Malfoy's raised eyebrows, he quickly clarified, "Not like that, I mean, I only want to feel your warmth." He wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole once he realised how cheesy he sounded. "I mean, it's okay if you don't want me to," he mumbled in despair.

"Really, Potter, do you still feel the need to ask? As I recall, you've touched my—"

And Harry kissed him. He kissed him because when Draco Malfoy felt amused, it usually involved Harry's misery. And because those lips were too soft not to kiss. Sensing Malfoy's warm breath caressing his cheek, Harry let Malfoy nip at his bottom lip. The kiss was so different to the one he got from Malfoy's magic, and although it was a bit similar to the one he got from Raines, it was also different because this one felt a thousand times more right. Harry relished the sensation, breathing in his own body wash and shampoo and the unique scent Harry used to identify in Raines, but without the bitter waft and taste of cigarette. Harry realised with delight that the scent was Malfoy's.

"Do you want to—you know," said Malfoy, his eyes glazed over.

"Oh," said Harry, breathless. "Um. Yeah. Yeah."

"Then get on with it." Malfoy laughed, threading his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry was sure he couldn't hide his flush as he tried to disentangle himself and scoot over until he was on his knees. Shoving the duvet to the floor, he stared at Malfoy's trousers—grey and clearly finely tailored.

"Where did you get those?"

"Kreacher. Your wardrobe offended me."

Harry snorted, even as he started undoing Malfoy's belt. "It's not like wearing jeans is going to kill you."

"Don't be a prat, Potter. That's not what one should talk about with their soon-to-be-shag-partner."

Harry didn't respond to that, feeling his face flare up. Instead he unzipped Malfoy's trousers and tugged at them until they were on Malfoy's thighs. Malfoy, Harry noted, had even asked Kreacher to fetch black silk boxers for him. Raising his eyebrows in amusement at Malfoy's smirk, Harry pulled the boxers downward. He gulped when he remembered how the last time he saw Malfoy's cock, it was when his world started falling to ruin.

Shaking himself, Harry took a deep breath and dipped his head. He gave Malfoy's cock a firm grip, taking it into his mouth and almost crying in relief as the warmth hit his tongue. Of course it would be much better—because now Malfoy wasn't black and grey, wasn't frigid and dry, and certainly wasn't cold. This Malfoy was so human and it finally struck Harry that yes, it wasn't a dream. Yes, this was his Malfoy. Yes, he could stop worrying that everything was only in his head, that he was losing his marbles. Harry could trust Malfoy, and certainly he could trust himself as well.

"What are you thinking about?"

Harry glanced up to find Malfoy looking at him with a flush on his cheeks and neck. Harry chose to answer that question by sucking the head of Malfoy's cock, causing Malfoy to shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, Harry continued sucking and licking, all the while holding Malfoy's gaze. There was a hungry gleam in Malfoy's eyes, and his lower lip was so red from all the biting. The rise and fall of his chest told Harry how ragged Malfoy's breathing was, and Harry wondered, if he could hear Malfoy moan.

He licked the lines of veins along the side of Malfoy's cock, his hand playing with Malfoy's balls, before taking the cock whole in his mouth again. Malfoy seemed to have difficulties keeping his eyes open, but still trying anyway. The hand that wasn't clutching at the sheets was stroking Harry's hair. Harry was giving another suck to the head when Malfoy suddenly sat up. He pulled Harry towards him, claiming Harry's mouth in a fierce kiss.

"I want to touch you, too," whispered Malfoy, and it was all Harry could do not to moan at the vivid image his mind supplied.

Unbuckling his belt, Harry tried to calm his racing heart. Malfoy helped him unbutton his jeans, and yanked them together with the pants off Harry's legs. Then he did the same with his own trousers and boxers. Motioning Harry to shuffle closer, he gave a mischievous smile. Harry's plan to snap a smart arse comment over that smile died the moment Malfoy took their cocks together and began to stroke.

Resting his forehead on Malfoy's shoulder, Harry struggled to keep the moans from escaping his lips, because really—

"Would it kill you to moan?" Harry asked with effort.

"Malfoys don't make obscene noises, Potter," said Malfoy, seemingly struggling like Harry. "Why don't you do the moaning for both of us?"

"You wish," Harry managed, before he bit his lip so hard he feared it would bleed.

"If you do, maybe I'll consider letting you fuck me next time," said Malfoy, and Harry nearly groaned. He looked up from the comfort of Malfoy's shoulder to find a naughty leer.

"Let's see if you keep from moaning when I do fuck you," said Harry.

Malfoy let out a throaty laugh. "We'll see."

Harry smiled, letting his hands wander over Malfoy's sweaty skin. He savoured the warmth on his fingertips, the tingling sensation that shot from his fingers straight to his lower belly. The line of scar tissue on Malfoy's chest was slightly raised, but didn't feel so different to the other parts of his skin. Harry wanted to kiss that scar, but Malfoy tugged at his hair. Resisting a gasp when Malfoy's hand sped up on their cocks, Harry pulled him into a kiss. As Malfoy was coming, he bit Harry's lower lip so hard that Harry had to suppress a whimper. It only took three more strokes until Harry came as well—with a rather loud moan.

"You just moaned," Malfoy pointed out, laughing as he threw himself back onto the bed.

"Bloody hell, that means I have to fuck you, doesn't it?" Harry pretended to be shocked, while Malfoy merely laughed harder. Harry let a smile form on his lips. "Well, I'm sure I will enjoy that. Very much."

"Mm, let's see if you can get it up again in the next five minutes." Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Um. How about ten?"

"Too bloody long, and you call yourself the Chosen One."

"I never call myself by that stupid name, and what does that have to do with it anyway?" Harry rolled his eyes, lying on the bed and nuzzling Malfoy's neck.

"Stop it, you big cuddler," Malfoy gave a playful shove. He gazed sleepily at Harry. "I'm tired, let's take a nap first."

"But you just did," said Harry. "Are you all right? Still not feeling well?"

"No, just a bit sluggish. Takes time to get used to a body again," said Malfoy as he closed his eyes. "Oh, please clean the mess, will you? I don't have my wand."

Groping for his wand, which was conveniently stashed on the floor, near his bundle of robes, Harry muttered a Cleaning Charm. By the time he settled back on the bed, Malfoy was already asleep. Harry replayed back what they had done and what they would do, unable to keep himself from smiling stupidly. Running his fingers through Malfoy's hair, Harry couldn't believe his luck. Maybe he should consider storing this memory so he could see it again and again with a Pensieve. With a big grin, Harry shut his eyes and impatiently waited for sleep to come, so he could wake up and fuck Malfoy.

Everything seemed to be going well, Harry couldn't ask for more, really. But when he woke up two hours later and found Malfoy curled up at his side, panting and terribly pale . . . Harry felt maybe the world hated him after all.

. .

To Be Continued

. .

One more chapter to go~ ;)