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! Attention !

Another Flash Forward with possibly a few spoilers,

it depends on how well you pay attention ;)

It takes place 11 years later than where we are currently situated in the story.

(for those who would like to do the maths on our protagonists ages and such)

Enjoy!

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"I can take care of myself!" The raven lashed out at grey-eyes, trying to hit him in the face, to show him what he was capable of. But Draco had training instincts on his side, and in a second had stopped Harry's fist. Harry wasn't easily subdued and was quick to come back, which ended in him flat on his stomach on the couch. The black-haired adolescent struggled for a few seconds, but seeing as it was futile and it only made him look weaker and more pathetic, he calmed down and instead tried to keep his head up as high as possible.

"You have the ways of a criminal." Draco observed and explained, but green-eyes made no answer.

Draco was unharmed, and quite satisfied with himself. He was in the power position, holding Harry firmly in place as he had learned to do, and watched Harry's arched back and neck as he slowly stopped moving; heard his hectic breathing…

Something like excitement rose deep in the blonde's stomach; something like fever overwhelmed him and made him waver. Images that had nothing to do with the situation intruded his mind, thoughts that…

He immediately released the black-haired one, as if Harry's wrists had burned his hands; then walked behind the bar into his open kitchen. His hand grabbed the first bottle of hard liquor he could find without him seeing what it was, poured it into a glass and leaned against the counter, sipping in silence.

Green-eyes on his side, straightened and shook his feathers, trying to regain his dignity. He glared for a moment at the blonde's back, then went to sit on the windowsill to smoke his weed, equally silent, watching the nightly activities of London beneath and shivering at the frigid air blowing through the open window, through his hair.

Neither of them bothered to turn on the lights. They sat in silence in the darkened space, alighted by the rays of yellow street lamps alone. The moon was absent.

It was a while before Draco could convince himself to move again. Swallowing the last of the burning liquid, he put away his glass and pushed himself off the counter. His hand went up into his white hair as he walked briskly to his bedroom.

"Help yourself to anything you want." He threw over his shoulder, not daring to look at the figure huddled by the window. "I'll see you in the morning." He added before closing the door. He suspected that green-eyes wouldn't be there when he re-emerged, but there was not much he could do about it. Harry was just as stubborn as he was, if not more. He seemed to have become more obstinate and uncatchable since they'd parted years ago.

But Draco could not stay in the same room with him any longer. He flung his coat on a chair and kicked his shoes under it before slumping onto his bed and starting a long night of staring into the shadows.

There's something wrong with me. There's something wrong with me. There's something wrong with me. He kept repeating to himself, remembering what he'd caught himself thinking.


The sun had not risen yet when Draco came out into his living room. His empty living room. The blankets and sofa were untouched. Harry had not even slept there.

A shower was supposed to make him look more alive before going to work, but it did not help to shorten the torturously long morning, and afternoon. Draco was still the youngest in the force, and still quite fresh from training. His lack of experience kept him bound to his desk for most of the time, but he felt the pressure more than ever.

Despite that pressure to prove himself, he was unable to concentrate. Not until he was able to leave for a while, having managed to arrange a meeting with Blaise.

"Aren't we going to drink something?" Blaise wondered as they walked aimlessly up and down a boulevard close to Draco's office. "It's freezing." He complained as he tightened his scarf about his neck.

The blonde had his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat. The wind blew his hair in front of his eyes, concealing the troubles that went on in them. "I have to go back to work afterwards." He said in response to Blaise.

"Have they given you something real to do yet?"

"I already do real things." Draco said indignantly.

"I mean, something besides collecting and processing information all day long."

"It's important work!" The white-haired young man defended. "They can't send us off in the field just like that."

"Isn't that what your training was for?"

"Shove off, Blaise." Draco was hardly in the mood for his friend's teasing. He wondered whether he'd done good in calling Blaise, for he wasn't exactly the most serious man in town. But who else could he have asked? Ron? Hermione? They would kill him with their bare hands if they knew what he thought of Harry…

At least, Blaise would keep silent about it. If he couldn't get decent advice from him, he could talk to him in confidence, get a little of it off his chest without having to fear being judged.

"What is it that you had to see me so urgently, and make me walk out in the cold instead of offering me a pint." Blaise jeered.

Draco was grateful that they weren't in a bar. He already had trouble enough getting the words out, but he felt safer doing it under the cover of the city noise around them, rather than risking being overheard, even in a crowded bar.

"There's something wrong with me, Blaise." He repeated what he'd told himself all night, over and over.

"I know that." The scarfed one joked. "You'll have to be more specific."

Draco stopped walking and turned his glare towards his companion, trying to convey the earnestness of what he wanted to say. Blaise seemed to understand, and became more subdued as they walked on, passing a quiet post-office, then a bustling internet-café, and an even busier Starbucks, the safe haven of the working class during the wintry months.

"I've had a fight…recently…It wasn't a real fight, just some…anyway. I controlled the situation, but then…I caught myself thinking things. Violent, unhealthy things. And it's not the first time. It's happened a few times. It's like something is driving these insane images into my mind."

Blaise had quite a bit of trouble understanding the jumbled up confession. But he had a quick enough mind to puzzle most of it together. Draco's obvious shame and disturbed condition were good indicators of what those 'insane images' could be.

"My dear Drake," Draco winced, he hated that nickname. "How long has it been since you did the shaggy?"

Blaise was one of those people who have an infinite number of 'euphemisms' for sexual intercourse at the ready. If the blonde hadn't been buried in his own coat, he would've rolled his eyes. Instead he plunged into his memory. These days, he hadn't had any time for such things. He was either working, or with Harry, or worrying about Harry, or talking to Ron and Hermione about Harry… Even by himself, he hadn't had much action.

Could it be he was only frustrated? That he needed an outlet? He'd never experienced a dry period before, not since he'd become sexually active.

"Don't be angry with me," Blaise continued tentatively when Draco made no answer, "but do you remember Eric?"

Draco nodded, recollecting the man he'd had a short-lived relationship (one of the few worth that name) with. It had been an unusual partner for him, for he preferred more feminine men, younger, more androgynous. Maybe his bisexuality influenced his taste, making him look for women in men? Eric was the only man who had not fit that description, who had actually been taller and older than him.

"Well", Blaise went on carefully, "we met up a few times, you know, nothing serious. Just having some fun."

"What?" Draco turned on him, more surprised than angry.

Blaise spoke hurriedly. "You know he's always been more my type than yours. But like I said, it wasn't serious. And it was a long time ago." He held up his hands defensively.

The blonde couldn't deny he was annoyed. But it rapidly died away. Indeed it was a long time passed. He'd long stopped caring for Eric. And besides, it didn't matter anymore now.

"What does Eric have to do with this?" Draco asked indifferently, showing his friend he wasn't holding it against him.

"Well," Blaise sounded relieved that he'd been forgiven. "He told me that, when you and him were together, he'd thought you were sometimes a little too intense."

"Intense?"

Blaise nodded. "A lot, in fact. His words." He added hastily.

This forced Draco to another memory. Much earlier, when he was still a growing adolescent. His mother had sometimes expressed her worry, that he was too passionate, that he let his emotions take over too easily. He had in fact worked on it. During his training in the force too, he'd learned to keep his feelings in check. He was perfectly able to control himself in everyday life. But in love and even just in physical relationships…

"Draco." Blaise called him out of his reverie by taking his arm and stopping him. "I know that you won't go around raping anyone. If you were a sociopath, or a sadist, I would know by now; you would know. You certainly behave like it sometimes, but there's not a doubt in my mind that you're just like me."

The weight was slowly lifting from Draco's chest, the ominous clouds above his head were dissipating. "I'd rather not be like you, Blaise." He even added with a mischievous smile.

His friend laughed heartily. Nothing could ever offend him. He never took anything seriously enough to be offended.

"Just slow down a little, mate." Was the wise parting advice Blaise gave Draco.

Slow down. The latter thought as he hurried back the way they'd walked, to his desk and paperwork. Keep the intensity in check. It sounded simple this way, away from the object of his passion, away from the small match that could light him on fire. It seemed small and insignificant. He felt confident again that he would not do something irreparable.


Here it is, all laid out for you. I wonder what you got from this. Is it too obvious?