Chapter 18 – Part 7

Harry pushed his hand through his hair causing it to tangle and stick out even further than it usually did. Tangling his fingers through his hair was a habit he had picked up as he had grown older and more stressed. He hadn't done it so much since the war ended – well, until recently. Not having Draco was not agreeing with him. Or at least being confronted with a daily reminder of what he had given up was not agreeing with him.

Draco had not been looking good. He looked tired and even a little grubby, something Harry hadn't expected, but when he thought back to seeing Draco at the Leaky Cauldron over the summer, he had looked grubby then too. Perhaps grief did that to him. There was something about looking slightly dirty that made Draco Malfoy look a little more sexy, and Harry could scarce believe a by-product of not bathing regularly could be sexiness. Draco Malfoy led a charmed life.

Except of course he didn't. Draco was not happy and Harry knew he was the cause of that. He also knew that eventually the sadness and hurt would turn to malice, and when it did, Harry was hoping school would be over and he wouldn't have to be there to endure it. He'd seen Draco at his most malicious, and he knew what Draco was capable of. He didn't want to be on the receiving end if it this time around.

He ran his hand through his hair again and pushed his way through the portrait hole to the Common Room. He was tired. He didn't want to study tonight, and he just desperately wanted to sleep. Hermione would normally be on his case about it, but Hermione had gone to London and it made sense to take the afternoon off. He was supposed to go out with Fred tonight as well. He wondered how hard it would be to cancel.

At his bedroom door he stopped. He could hear something. Someone perhaps, inside. Harry frowned and strained his ears against the wood of the door. And then it opened, almost sending him sprawling forward through the doorway.

Draco was frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide.

Harry wasn't sure wasn't sure what to say, and he really wasn't sure what to do. Something had happened to Draco, someone had hit him. Harry's first instinct was to find the bastard who had touched him and perform innumerable acts of torture on their person, find a thousand ways to make them die. His eyes focused first on the cut lip and then traveled up the bruised cheek wanting nothing more than to stroke that beautiful place and whisper a charm to make it all better. He wanted to hold him, caress him, kiss him, and make love to him.

Instead he said savagely; "What are you doing in my room?"

"Nothing!" Draco tried to smile innocently, but only succeeded in splitting the fragile bond that had formed on his lip and a pearl of blood welled there. "I was…I left you something."

"What?" Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It could well be that the malice he was so anticipating was finally about to make an appearance and his bedroom was now thoroughly booby trapped. "What did you leave in there?"

"Nothing bad!" Draco frowned, "Look, you don't have to use it, not at all…I just thought…You don't have to use it…it's stupid anyway."

"What is it?"

"Nothing." Draco pushed past Harry, his arm connecting with Harry's shoulder hard enough to be painful and Harry winced. It was harsh contact but there had been precious little of it since Harry had walked out on him almost two months before, and as much as it hurt his shoulder, Harry relished it.

He watched Draco go, admiring the way he walked, wanting to walk with him. But he was also nervous about just what Draco had left in his room. He knew, deep down, that Draco wouldn't leave anything dangerous in there, but it was possible that the love he'd felt had finally become bitter and who knew what Draco could have left in there.

Harry opened the door carefully and waited, listening carefully and trying to sense something, but the air was still and the room quiet. He stepped inside and glanced around, taking in familiar corners and all his furniture, his pictures, his clothes piled on Ron's bed, everything that was his. Draco had touched nothing, there was no perceivable change – save one. On the dresser there was a bowl, familiar in appearence, it looked like Dumbledore's Pensieve bowl, but the markings were different and it did not have the look of age that Dumbledore's possessed. This was new, made and purchased recently. Harry could see its silvery contents shimmering alluringly.

He knew instantly what it was. He knew and he could feel every nerve and fiber in his body start to tingle. He ran a finger along the edge of the bowl, looking into the cloudy surface of its contents, knowing that inside was everything Harry had wanted to see and Draco had hidden away. Given to him now that it was too late.

Harry felt an ache in himself grow. "Oh Gods, Draco."

There was no question about going into it, of course he would. He had spent months, night after night, thinking about what Draco had gone through and wondering how bad it had been. Harry had often felt a sense of shame, he had accused Draco on any number of occasions of not understanding loss or pain, when in fact Draco knew both well enough. In the bowl lay the key to Draco's knowledge of such things.

And yet some unreasonable part of Harry still thought that whatever had happened could not possibly be as bad as the Cruciatus curse. That curse was an unforgivable, one of the worst curses that anyone of their kind could possibly use, and there must be a reason for it to be called such. Draco had never said that Moody had used that curse on him, and so Harry could never reconcile what Draco had done to Regina – he'd never experienced anything that bad.

But he had certainly experienced something and Harry was desperate to find out just what that was. He placed his hands on either side of the bowl and drew a deep breath before plunging his face into the bowl.

The sensation was instantaneous. Harry was sucked into the bowl, feeling a little like a cork sliding effortlessly and then suddenly he was falling through darkness.

When he landed he found himself on a stone floor and he expected to look up and find himself in something similar to Snape's dungeon. Instead the room was surprisingly modern. It was dull and grey and bare save for a table in the middle of the room and a heavy wooden chair not far from the table.

And seated in that chair was Lucius Malfoy.

Harry stood up and looked around him, trying to see where Draco was. This was Draco's memory after all, he had to be in the room somewhere. Harry couldn't see him, but knew he would be revealed eventually, and so he turned his attention to Lucius.

It couldn't have been long after the final battle, a number of days perhaps. Lucius still had a nasty looking gash on his head that Harry seemed to remember him getting at some point during that final run up the stairs. There were other injuries however, new injuries that marred features that Harry now knew to be hauntingly familiar. He had never noticed just how much he looked like Draco – or how much Draco looked like him.

But Lucius did not look particularly well. His face was bruised, his upper lip had been split and he looked tired and sore, but surprisingly he also looked bored.

"And how do you feel today Lucius?"

Harry jumped and Moody seemed to appear from out of a darkened corner.

"Oh I don't know," Lucius replied philosophically, "breakfast was cold and the sleeping arrangements are shocking, but one can't always expect four star accommodation now can one?"

Moody chuckled humorlessly. "Your sense of humor always was shit, Malfoy, so let's see how long you can keep playing the funny man."

Lucius shrugged and cocked an eyebrow.

"Are you ready to answer some questions?"

"But of course." Lucius smirked easily. "Although what I can tell you I don't know, we had such a thorough session yesterday, it was really rather exhausting."

"I'll show you exhausted, Malfoy. I'll make so that after today you won't know what hit you."

Lucius smiled openly, clearly unfazed by Moody's outburst; "worse than dislocating my wrists yesterday? Oh Alastor, I'm quaking in my boots."

"Oh come now Lucius, " Moody managed to mimic Malfoy's voice rather well, "you know that we need to employ certain tactics to get the answers we need."

Lucius shrugged again and seemed un-offended. Harry could almost read his thoughts. He'd lived a good deal of his life under the threat of Voldemort, so that Moody using him as a punching bag wasn't going to faze him.

But it seemed Moody knew that too because he was smiling a crooked smile that suggested he had a secret. "I think we might go on to who you have killed, Malfoy."

"Excellent, and how long will today's session take?"

"Got some place to be?"

"Haven't you heard? The Dementor's throw a social every Friday night; it's all very entertaining, and I'm due to bring the dip."

Moody didn't find it funny and for a moment Harry was certain that he was going to hit Lucius to wipe the smirk off his face. He didn't however, and the crooked smile returned. "You might have to miss it Malfoy, because we might be a while here. Then again, I might be able to persuade you a little faster, it's up to you."

Lucius sighed and returned to looking bored.

"So, Malfoy, who have you killed."

"I believe I've already answered that question on a number of occasions."

"And you expect us to believe you? I've seen the list you admitted to, it's a dozen or more short."

"If you know who I killed, why don't you just add the names yourself?" Lucius yawned and glanced around the room as though suddenly interested in the interior.

"I think you'll tell me yourself," Moody chuckled, "if you know what's good for you."

"Or else what?" Lucius demanded, his humor vanishing with alarming speed, "You'll kill me? You need me alive Moody, everyone wants a nice public Kiss and who are you to disappoint them?"

"Oh yes, you're right there." Moody was beaming radiantly, "I can't kill you, Fudge was pretty specific about that. He wants a nice public trial, nice public Kiss…but he wants names Malfoy. He wants names specifically from you, names to give all those who need to know who killed their loved ones."

"Oh be still my bleeding heart. Why don't you just write yes next to everyone and be done with it?"

Moody laughed outright. "Now I know you didn't kill all of these people Malfoy, and there'd be no fun in saying you did. No Malfoy, I want the truth. Do you remember how to tell the truth?"

Lucius just looked tolerant.

"Well do you?"

"You might be horribly disappointed Moody, I might not have killed as many as you hoped."

"I doubt that." Moody limped around the chair, but Lucius made no move to follow his movements, "But we'll soon see. I think you'll start handing out names very shortly."

"And why do you think that?"

Moody limped back towards the dark corner of the room from which he had emerged. "Because I can't kill you, we both know that…" Moody reached into the corner and Harry realized that there must be some kind of Invisibility charm on the corner, "but there is one thing you don't know that I do." He pulled hard, dragging someone out from the corner. Pale and limping, Draco could barely stand. "I can't kill you, but I can kill him."

The effect on Lucius was immediate and Moody watched it with glee. Harry was fairly certain that his own expression matched Lucius' perfectly. He went pale, even the bruises on his face seemed to turn a light shade of grey. His mouth opened and closed a few times, his grey eyes; a shade darker than his sons, were wide with horror.

"He's…he's…" Lucius faltered, there was no sign of self assurance now, no humor left, "He's innocent, he hasn't done anything wrong!"

"I don't know, there are a lot of people out there who believe it's only a matter of time. In fact, there are plenty of people out there who would be happy to see the end of the whole miserable bloodline."

"He hasn't done anything wrong," Lucius echoed, "he's just a…child."

Moody laughed hard at this, as he forced Draco to stand up straight. "He's hardly a child," Moody yanked hard at the cloak around Draco's shoulders, one that Harry now noticed as being made of a harsh fabric that Draco would never wear. As the cloak gave way Harry knew that the cloak was not Draco's, just as sure as he knew Draco would be naked under it. "Take a good look," Moody growled, "he's a man, Malfoy, there's no child there."

Lucius fell silent, terrified perhaps of what would happen if he said anything. Harry stared in open wonder at Draco. He was more filled out than Harry knew him to be, his muscles more pronounced, and he was healthier. Harry circled him and almost wept. His back had been perfect. Smooth and sculpted and perfect. The flesh was creamy and pale without so much as a blemish to mar it. If only there had been a pimple or a mole or something that could herald the coming doom, but there was nothing, only the smooth perfection of flesh.

And soon it would be gone and there was nothing Harry could do to stop it.

Lucius was stammering out something to Moody, realizing too late that he had given away too much of himself and that Moody knew all to well that he had him where he wanted him. Finally he had worked out just how to hurt Lucius Malfoy.

"Don't blame yourself Malfoy." Moody grinned, smug now that he had the upper hand. "You hid him well. In fact I didn't even think to look for him until your friend Nott mentioned him. You see, not everyone holds up as well as you. I was saying, "I wonder what we could do to persuade Lucius Malfoy to talk to us, and Nott, he was sweating a bit under pressure and he said, 'threaten his brat,' and I knew then. I knew that I couldn't just threaten to hurt him because you're a smart man and you knew that you'd hidden him away, so I had to find him and it took a while; a few days, but we found him. You did a good job…" Moody smiled, "but not good enough."

Lucius closed his eyes and his mouth clamped shut tight. Then his face relaxed into a mask of calm. "I don't know all of the names, I did what I was told, but I'll give you the ones I can remember."

"Oh, you're all reasonable now aren't you? You did what you were told did you? All obedient to your master then? He had to tell you names before letting you loose, so don't give me the, 'I don't know them' routine."

Lucius didn't answer. He was looking at Draco as thought after useless thought rushed through his brain. There was no escape from this. He tried to move and Harry realized that Lucius was bound to the chair. Harry felt frozen to the spot, unseen and as useless as Lucius was. This was just a memory, if Harry even tried to touch them his hand would go through them.

"So, who did you kill Malfoy?"

Lucius was still staring at Draco. "I…I don't…"

"Did you kill Charlie Weasley?"

"I…no, I didn't kill him…I…"

"You were seen Malfoy, you were seen killing him!"

Lucius looked confused, still staring at his son, who looked as though he would fall down. There was not a bruise on him, but they must have done something to make him so weak. "Alright then…I killed him."

"Very good, now what about Rosaline Moreland?"

Lucius hesitated, once again looking at Draco who had begun to shake from either cold or fear or both. "Yes," he said at last, but it wasn't convincing.

"You wouldn't be telling me what you think I want to hear now would you?"

Lucius fell silent again, his gaze flicking from Moody to Draco. "I didn't kill Weasley or Moreland."

Moody's grin became malicious, "but you were seen Malfoy, how do you explain that?"

"I…" Lucius looked helpless and Harry could guess his thoughts because he was thinking them himself. It didn't matter what he said, no answer was going to be right. "What do you want me to say?" he asked at last.

"The truth Malfoy, that's all I want."

"I've told you the truth!"

"So which is it?"

"I didn't kill them."

"But you were seen Malfoy, how do you explain that?"

"I can't!"

"Then you must have done it!"

"Alright then, fine, I killed them."

"But you just said that you didn't!"

Lucius made an impatient sound in his throat and looked desperately to his son.

Draco lifted his head a little, as though realizing for the first time where he was. At this prompting Moody grabbed a hand full of hair and wrenched his head back; "might be a good time to wake him up eh?"

Lucius looked confused, "what did you give him?"

"Nothing that would hurt him." Moody was fumbling through his pocket, by the sound of it he had a few bottles in there. "Just a little something to get him here without him kicking up a storm, quite a little hellion you raised yourself, he took out an Auror's eye when we tried to catch him."

Lucius actually smiled and Harry, who would have been shocked to learn this a year ago, smiled too.

Moody forced a few drops of a potion into Draco's mouth and those familiar grey eyes shot open wide. "Say hello to your father, there's a good boy."

Draco said nothing at all, he still wasn't standing straight and Harry guessed that despite the lack of bruises he had probably taken some kind of beating. He was looking at his father, probably never having seen him look quite so bad, and the resulting panic was evident on his features. He looked defeated.

Moody leaned in close to Draco's face, still holding him by his hair; "I've known your family for a long time boy, none of you would know the truth if you fell over it."

"You don't want to know the truth," Draco replied, his voice raw, "you're close enough to ending the line now, you don't care what is true and what isn't."

Moody looked impressed. "Perceptive boy you have here, Lucius. He might actually have a brain in that head – shame it's a Malfoy brain, and no good can come of that now can it?"

"Leave him alone, he has nothing to do with this."

Moody glared at Lucius and responded by dragging Draco by his hair to the table in the centre of the room. Draco gave an involuntary yelp and his hands flailed up, trying to dislodge the hand from his hair. Harry followed him, wanting nothing more than to help him and knowing full well that he could not.

"How do you think all those families felt Malfoy?" Moody asked, "How do you think they felt when you killed their loved ones? Loved ones that had nothing to do with you or your master? Do you think they care that he has nothing to do with this? Or do you think they'll cheer when they find out that someone managed to get to you and yours? You have managed to worm your way out of anything with your threats and your bags of gold. I don't know how much you paid the keepers of the Hollow Hills to hide your spawn, but it won't work any more. Once he's dead and you're nothing more than a soulless shell, guess what will happen to your estate? The Ministry will take it all and the famous Malfoy coffers will finally be laid bare."

Lucius sat back in the chair, perhaps finally realizing that there was nothing he could do to save his son and so he returned to his former calm self, even though his hands shook just a little. "I think you'll find you're wrong there, Moody. The Ministry won't see so much as a sickle. You might end the Malfoy line, but it will just revert to the next in line. They're French, they have nothing to do with this Ministry – or Voldemort for that matter. Nice simple country folk, you'd like them, poor as church mice and ever so good…but not your Ministry."

Moody flinched visibly and responded by slamming Draco's face into the table. Lucius jumped, it didn't matter if he could save his son or not, he couldn't watch this without feeling something.

"There has to be some way of coming to an agreement." Lucius attempted a charming smile, "I will say whatever you want me to say and he will leave our world. Take his wand and he'll go, then you'll never have to see him again…"

"Why don't you save your breath Malfoy? Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this day? From the moment your slut of a wife gave birth I've known he'd grow up to be just like you. The Ministry should never have risked it. He should have had a little accident years ago, but Fudge went soft. But no more. No one wants to spend a lifetime worrying about your offspring, and by happy chance I get to be the one who rids the world of this…blot."

"But he hasn't done anything wrong." Lucius insisted, unable to fathom that the Auror who had his son by the hair was going to kill him despite his innocence. "You keep carrying on about what is good for our world, but by our own laws and ethics you can't kill someone when they've done nothing wrong! The people won't stand for it, it doesn't matter what I've done, they won't stand for this!"

"Ahh Malfoy, you don't understand what is going on. I have jurisdiction now to do anything that will lead to information as to the fate of those who died or went missing during the war. Anything Malfoy, do you understand what that means? The public doesn't need to know, and so the public won't know. So many people went missing during the war and so many people died, who would notice this one victim? A victim I might add, that no one cares about – except you of course."

"He's just a child…"

"He is not a child!" Moody dragged Draco up the table, lying him out flat on his belly and slamming a fist down hard into the middle of his back. "Do you know what he was doing when we found him? You sent him to the Hollow Hills and we found him with his face between the Faerie Queen's legs!"

Now Lucius really did smirk, and for a brief moment he actually looked proud. "So he has a healthy appetite," he shrugged.

"I would have thought you'd have been disgusted. She isn't even the same species as us, and isn't that a problem for the disciples of the Dark Lord?"

"For some of them."

"But not for you eh? You won't fuck a half blood but you'd happily do a faerie?"

Lucius once again took on that self assured tone. "Quite the contrary, when it comes to fucking, I find half bloods and Muggle borns often have more enthusiasm that the purest of Purebloods."

Harry couldn't quite believe they were discussing fucking while Draco was sprawled across that table. If he were Lucius he would be busy begging for his son's life to be spared, but perhaps Lucius knew as Harry did, that this was going to happen either way and that begging on the floor would be pointless.

"Well, perhaps you're right there Malfoy, because your wife was a little like a dead fish when I fucked her."

If Harry had expected an outburst at this revelation he was to be disappointed. While Draco made an indignant noise and struggled under Moody's grip, Lucius simply arched an eyebrow and calmly replied; "you mustn't have been doing it right Alistair. I usually find Narcissa quite a little firebrand, but then I did pass her in the hall yesterday and she said something about you being like an inadequately sized dildo." His eyes narrowed and he said calmly, "don't try to hurt me through my wife, as I think you'll find her more resilient that I am."

Moody seemed taken aback for a moment. He stared at Lucius with both his normal and magical eye in complete amazement. He regained his composure quickly however. Trying in his own brutal way to match Lucius' demeanor, he did the one thing that he knew would hurt the man. He stroked one gnarled finger down the perfect length of Draco's back.

Draco flinched and Lucius' smile faded.

"So I suppose I should just hurt you through your son then eh?"

Moody didn't give Lucius any chance to answer, and any conversation that they could have would only be a rehash of what had gone before. Moody had no real interest in anything Malfoy wanted to tell him. He was determined in his mission and nothing Lucius Malfoy could say or do was going to stop him. He considered this task a real pleasure. From inside his robe he pulled a large flask of a deep red liquid and held it up for Lucius to see.

"This is very hard to come by you know. In fact, this is most of the Ministry's stock." He shook the flask, "do you know what it is?"

Lucius hesitated and eyed the flask suspiciously, then after a moment he shook his head.

"It's called Madragora," Moody watched Lucius' expression change, "I see you've heard of it."

"It's illegal…no one knows how to make it any more."

"That's true, but this has been sitting in the Auror vaults for years, and I've been saving it for just such an occasion. Nice tool of your old friend Grindelwald."

"Grindelwald was before my time."

"Really?" Moody looked surprised, "And there I was thinking I'd been chasing you forever. Must've been your father."

"Must've been."

"I get the lot of you mixed up, you're all so similar."

"In looks anyway."

"Yes, in looks…and the fact that you're all rotten to the core."

Lucius didn't answer, but he was looking nervously at the flask.

Moody noticed the direction of his gaze and shook the flask again. "Do you know what Madragora does?"

"I…" Lucius looked pained, knowing that Moody planned a full demonstration regardless of what he said, he looked at his son, crushed down onto the table, his face turned to look at his father. "Yes."

"Then I won't have to explain as I go…or maybe I should, for his sake." He opened the flask and dipped an eyedropper into the bottle.

"DON'T!" Lucius finally cried out, giving in to the panic inside him, "please, please, don't do this to him, please…do it to me, that would have to be more fun…"

"Oh I don't think so, I think watching your face while I do this is all the fun I need. Now stop interrupting the demonstration Malfoy, you need to pay attention." He squirted the contents of the eyedropper over Draco's left shoulder blade and Draco screamed.

The sound seemed to pierce through Harry, sharper than any blade. It was so loud that his blood chilled in his veins and every part of his body seemed to hurt as though in sympathy for whatever could cause someone to scream like that. In the chair Lucius pulled forward, struggling against whatever charm held him there, his face distorted with dismay.

"Now, the acid burns for a bit," Moody was saying above the sound, "Then it starts to burrow in. It seeks out the heart and lungs you know. So it's burrowing through now, imagine what it's hitting along the way. If I put it down here for example," he splashed another eyedropper full across Draco thigh, "it will just keep on going until It finds what it's looking for. Heart, lungs, intestines, spleen – It's all a matter of time. Wonderful stuff eh?" He bent down to Draco, "hurts like a bugger doesn't it?"

Draco didn't answer, the pain was too intense and he couldn't stop screaming.

"This little amount will probably kill him," Moody shrugged, "but there wouldn't be much fun in that now would there?"

Lucius shook his head quickly, all language having escaped him.

"So I use this," Moody pulled the final bottle from his pocket, a small bottle of Navitas, "to stop it." He pulled Draco's head up and forced a small amount of the liquid into his mouth and then held Draco's mouth closed until he swallowed. Harry waited, hoping that the serum would stop the pain, but it seemed to have no effect at all, Draco was still in obvious pain and Moody supplied the answer readily enough. "I don't want to give him too much of this, I only want to keep him awake and alive long enough to really feel it."

He released Draco's head and it fell to the table with a thump.

"So Malfoy, are you ready to tell the truth yet?"

"Yes…I'll tell you anything you want."

"Good, good, I'm glad we're finally understanding each other," Moody slopped a large amount of acid over Draco's back, straight from the flask and the screaming began with renewed vigor.

It was an hour before it ended. An hour before Harry found himself back in his room. He couldn't hold back, he was sick and vomited into his cauldron. The memory had faded as Draco had finally lost consciousness, but not before Harry had seen much of Draco's body eaten away and Lucius Malfoy finally break free from his bonds and throw himself over his son in an attempt to shield him from it.

Harry remembered the letter Moody had sent to him, congratulating him on finally coming to his senses and getting rid of Draco. Harry hadn't come to his senses, Harry had been a fool. Draco had been right all along about the memories. He should never have wanted to see that, he should never have complained about it so long and so hard. Now that he had seen it he would never forget it.

Harry knew what happened next, they had dumped Draco's body in a Muggle street, assuming that he would die. The Muggles took him to one of their hospitals. Dumbledore had found him, because Dumbledore had been looking for him, all the while trying to get to him before Moody did. He hadn't succeeded in that, but he had saved his life.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to force back the bile that was rising in his throat. He needed to see Draco, he needed to reassure himself that what he had seen was indeed just a memory and that Draco was alive and well and maybe a little pissed in his room – or at the pub – or somewhere other than on that table in that grey room.

It could not be too late. If Draco had left Harry the Pensieve to see then it couldn't be too late to speak to him. To reconcile, to hold him and kiss him and love him. And yet a nagging part kept reminding him about Regina and about why he had walked out in the first place.

He stopped thinking, forced it back. There was no need to think about it any more, and now Harry knew why Draco had treated Regina as he had. Harry had read the journal and gauged enough to know. They would talk about it, try and work something out. Together, they would try and make arrangements for Lucius, they would get him out of the Museum and if it was possible, they would free him from whatever prison he was trapped in.

Harry left his room and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He didn't want to go to Draco sweating and stinking of puke. He smacked his elbow on the door frame as he left the bathroom, but ignored the flare of pain as he headed across the common room.

"Harry!"

He stopped dead in his tracks. "Fred!" He had forgotten Fred, he had forgotten all about going out. He couldn't, not now!

"Is that what you're wearing?"

Harry looked down at himself. His T-shirt was a little grubby and he was wearing his ever faithful cargo pants, not the best clothes he possessed, but certainly standard pub going attire. "Um…yeah, why, what's wrong with it?"

"I thought you might dress up a bit," Fred looked him up and down, the disappointment evident on his face, "something like what you wore on New Year's Eve."

"Oh…" Harry's cheeks flushed, "well they weren't actually my clothes – and besides, I thought you said this place was like a pub."

"It's a club Harry, you know, drinking, dancing, having a good time?"

Harry sighed heavily, "Do you want me to get changed?"

Fred looked at his watch, "No, I said we'd be there by nine. It's free entry if you get there by nine."

"I don't mind paying," Harry said, he shuffled from one foot to another, looking over Fred's shoulder to the narrow corridor that lead to Draco's room, "I really need to talk to Draco before I go anywhere."

"What?" Fred looked irritated, "Harry, we need to go, I told people we'd be there!"

"Well," Harry shuffled a little more, he didn't want to go, but he had promised Fred. But he really wanted to stay at the school, why couldn't he just say that? "Can you give me a minute? One minute, I need to tell him something and then we can go. Or maybe he could come with us?"

Fred huffed impatiently, "come with us? Are you back with him?"

"No…But he could come…he's fun…really…"

Fred folded his arms, unhappy with this turn of events. He didn't want Draco Malfoy cramping his evening, he had big plans for how the evening would progress and Draco would certainly mean that much of it would not happen. "I suppose so, if you have to invite him."

Harry grinned and patted him on the arm as he pushed past him and rushed towards Draco's room.

Draco was studying, drink in one hand and parchment in another, with a small cat sprawled across his textbook batting at the pages.

"Hi," Harry breathed and his heart was beginning to thump in his chest as Draco turned and offered an uncertain smile.

"Hi," Draco replied quietly.

"We really need to talk."

"Okay, so talk."

"I can't…" Harry flushed, "I have to go into Hogsmeade with Fred."

Draco turned away, his smile turning cold, "oh, your 'date'. "

"Why don't you come?"

"No thanks."

"Please…" Harry approached him, squeezed his shoulder with his hand, "please come. We'll stay for a couple of drinks and then get out of there, I promise."

"No," he sounded less certain now, "I have to study…"

"I really want to talk to you…about the Pensieve."

"We couldn't talk at a club anyway."

"I know, but if you came, we could leave early."

Draco put down the parchment and rubbed his eyes, "and if I don't go you'll stay all night?"

"No...I…it would just be easier if you came too."

"No thanks, I don't want to go out with you and Fred Weasley."

Harry looked around the room, trying to stem his growing impatience. "Alright, I'll go down, have a couple of drinks and I'll come back."

"Alright."

"I won't be long."

"Sure, not a problem."

"I won't, I promise."

Draco shrugged.

"Thank you…" Harry wanted to hug him, "thank you for the Pensieve, and thank you for showing me"

"It's fine, it wasn't a problem."

But it was a problem and Harry knew it was. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Sure thing," Draco forced a smile, "have a good time."

Harry seriously doubted that he would. He didn't want to go, he wanted to stay here with Draco. "If you change your mind, I'd love it if you'd come down."

Draco shrugged, "I'd rather stay here."

They both fell silent as a tap on the door alerted them to Fred's presence. "Harry, we have to go." He looked around the room with some interest and nodded to Draco who ignored him.

"Yeah, okay, in a minute." Harry looked back to Draco imploringly, "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Well, I'll see you when I get back then."

Draco held up a hand in a dismissive wave.

Harry sighed and followed Fred, wondering just how he was going to get out of the club early.

********
The Curator's bedchamber, hidden on the uppermost floor of the ever expanding Museum, was filled with trunks and suitcases of every shape and size. In the entire of his life Lucius had never seen a man who seemed to wear such an unvarying array of clothing have so much luggage. Lucius did not have much to take, a few nightshirts and a hair brush. But perhaps Semeuse had decided to take some of his favorite collections with him. Stuffed House Elves and some of those weird sacred bundles, that sort of thing.

Lucius spent his days sitting on the bed, wondering what was in the boxes.

Semeuse himself hadn't stopped his frantic muttering and packing for days. From what Lucius could glean from the mad ravings, the council was voting on a new Minister and it appeared that Fudge would lose. The man pegged to be the new Minister was none other than Arthur Weasley, a man Lucius had never had time for (except to fight with, and they'd done plenty of that over the years). Weasley had threatened to stop the exhibition and remove Lucius from the Curator's care. He was fairly certain that something personal had been said, which made Lucius think that someone must have said something to Weasley, but either way, Lucius was surprised. He would never have imagined that Weasley would lift a finger to help him at all.

"I have to go to Hogsmeade my Angel," Semeuse was saying, attempting to brush his hair down, "a delegation is coming from the Ministry to check on the exhibition, so you have to go downstairs. I trust I can do that without you running off?"

"Oh yes, I'll be on my feet and running out the door," Lucius drawled sarcastically.

It earned him a slap, but only around the arm. If he was to go down to the exhibition Semeuse couldn't afford to bruise his face, the Curator was hopeless at healing charms. If Lucius could smirk he would have. Instead he asked, as carefully as he could, why the Curator was going to Hogsmeade.

"I believe Mr. Antwon has a flying carpet, I need one to get you out of here safely."

"But don't you have a room full of flying carpets downstairs?"

Semeuse shook his head and clucked Lucius under the chin, "Oh my silly Angel, that collection is perfect, one would hate to break it up."

"What about a Portkey?"

"My darling, you must think with a little more style. Bouncing about with a Portkey! My lord no. Once you have flown on the carpet my love you will not know luxury like it again."

Lucius almost rolled his eyes, he'd flown by carpet plenty of times and he'd hated it. He watched Semeuse finish dressing. If the council was going to vote soon then Semeuse would want to leave before that happened. He felt his stomach settle for the first time in days, Draco just had to stay at the castle for a little while longer, just until after the council voted.

It was almost over.

********
Harry had never been much of a club person. He preferred the down to earth bustle of pubs and the ability to sit and talk with a group of people while drinking beer, and whilst he loved dancing, he hated being crushed on a dance floor. Clubs were loud throbbing places where one had to shout to be heard and he was always being sized up by some one or other. Over the last summer he had found himself in two clubs with Fred, George, Angelina, Ron and Hermione – he couldn't say he had enjoyed them.

This was the first gay club that he'd been to and he couldn't quite believe that it was in Hogsmeade. It seemed the kind of place one would find in London, but when Harry thought about it, when Wizards wanted to meet other Wizards they would head to either Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, so perhaps it made more sense. The club was far busier than he expected. He wouldn't be surprised if every gay Wizard in England was crammed into the tiny space.

The interior reminded Harry of a velvet lined jewellery box. Everything was blue and somehow cushioned, save for the bar, which was a heavy dark wood. From the moment Harry entered the club he was ogled with a mix of excitement and disbelief. Getting across the dance floor to the bar proved to be an exercise in avoiding hands and bodies that either wanted to grope him or rub up against him. Fred, who was obviously well known here, in the company of Harry, became a minor celebrity.

"Oh my Gods, he's gorgeous! " Shrieked an effete man at the bar with an exaggerated wave at them both and while Harry cringed, Fred grabbed his arm and made a beeline for the man.

"Trent," they air kissed, "he's just stunning isn't he?" Fred dragged Harry to his side. "He's very bad though because he didn't get dressed up at all, and believe me, he's just amazing when he's dressed properly." Fred slid a possessive arm around Harry's waist, "Harry, this is Trent, he is the guy to know here. Trent knows everyone, and," Fred lowered his voice, "he always has the best opium. Do you want some?"

Harry wanted to turn and run, instead he offered his hand to shake and was rewarded by having it kissed daintily.

"Oh, he's just beautiful," Trent gushed, "look at those eyes!" Without warning he swept Harry's hair back to look at the all too famous scar, "Just wonderful. I hear you were with Draco Malfoy, is that true? "

"Oh," Harry didn't want to talk about Draco here, "yeah."

"Now he is stunning, my Gods what I would do. I'd crawl over ten miles of broken glass just to masturbate in his shadow! Was he just fabulous in bed?"

Harry had no idea what to say, his first instinct was to tell the bastard to mind his own fucking business, but he saw Fred's anxious look and said nothing at all.

"You are so lucky," Trent continued unabated, "is he available now?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, "err, no, I don't think so." Trent was probably someone Draco would rather hex than go out with and while Harry would say that he was reasonably good looking, the persona would be enough to make Draco run in the opposite direction.

"Oh? Is he with someone else already? Ooh, give us all the goss. I've always heard the Malfoy's love to bed hop!"

"He doesn't bed hop," Harry muttered, his voice strained.

Trent laughed, "Oh Darling, I think you still like him." He turned to Fred, "I thought you said he did the dumping."

"He did," Fred was laughing along, "I can't help it if he still carries a torch."

"You'll just have to fuck it out of him then won't you?"

And they both laughed cattily while Harry assessed the distance to the door. With no attempt at civility he turned his back on Fred and his horror friend and made for the serving area of the bar.

Fred joined him within seconds. "What's wrong? Trent likes you!"

"He's a fuckwit," Harry said bluntly, "why is it that the minute some people discover they're gay they start throwing their arms around and start talking with so much affectation that no one knows what the fuck they're on about?"

Fred shrugged elaborately, "it's all part of the fantabulousness of being gay."

"No it's not! You're not always like that!" Harry shook his head and caught the attention of the barman.

"So I guess this isn't a good time to ask you if you top or bottom?" Fred smirked.

Harry glared at him. "I'm not having sex with you Fred."

Fred pouted, disappointed.

"What do you want to drink?"

"Screaming Orgasm," Fred replied, recovering himself instantly.

Harry rolled his eyes and made the drinks order from a barman who looked as bored as Harry did irritated.

"It's been a couple of months," Fred said seriously when he got his drink, "you need to get over him."

"Don't tell me how I'm supposed to feel."

"So what, you plan to spend your life alone and mourning him?"

Harry didn't answer. Fred didn't need to know that Harry was planning to go back to Hogwarts and reconcile with Draco.

"You haven't even been with anyone else."

Harry still said nothing.

"My point is, you might at least try to enjoy yourself. Why don't you have a sleaze, snog someone, cop a feel? You don't have to shag anyone."

"I don't feel like sleazing on to anyone."

Fred rolled his eyes, "kiss me."

"What? No!"

"No really, it will do you good, kiss me."

"No!"

Fred laughed and sipped his drink. Harry gulped his beer, hoping desperately that he could get out of there soon.

But somehow Harry didn't think that Fred was going to make it easy.

********

Draco wasn't entirely sure what he was doing going down to the bar. He was not comfortable in these surroundings, he was not the greatest dancer in the world and the fact that everyone in the club seemed to be bouncing up and down in unison was somehow disorientating.

Harry had said he should go. He had said "I'd love you to come down," and so he had. He was severely under-dressed. In fact he hadn't really dressed at all. Jeans and a jumper, he'd been wearing them since yesterday.

Behind him someone made a catty comment. They must have said it loudly to be heard over the music. It didn't matter, he was here to find Harry and Harry had seen him look worse…maybe.

He scanned the room, looking through the undulation couples and triples and every other combination besides. All men, all together. The few women in the room seemed to be sitting at the bar or hidden in booths drinking and giggling. He's heard that many women liked to hang around gay men; perhaps they felt safe, who knew? A couple of the men caught his eye, saw past the unwashed clothes and smiled. It wasn't a hard thing to do, dirty or not, he was still Draco Malfoy and he would always be beautiful and anyone could see it. He ignored the smiles. He was looking for only one person. He had expected to find him on the dance floor, Harry loved to dance. But he wasn't there; the dance floor was Harry free.

He moved towards the bar, if he was going to be here he may as well have a drink. His mouth started to water at the very thought, and the smell of cigarettes that surrounded the bar was slightly enticing, somehow they reminded him of his father. Not that Lucius smoked a great deal, usually just when he was stressed – or extremely satisfied. Lucius always made smoking look somehow sophisticated, even if he was doing it when stressed out of his head. Here in this bar the patrons made smoking look, well, gay.

Draco smoked pot, and occasionally opium. He saw no use in nicotine. Still, it made the bar smell familiar.

And then he saw them and the world stopped turning.

********
Against all that he'd planned, Harry was on to his third beer, sitting at the bar and still trying to work out how to get back to the castle without upsetting Fred. He had relaxed considerably however, and was taking jibes about his sex life with good humor.

"So, are you going to kiss me?" Fred asked again, considerably drunker now and eyeing Harry with unadorned lust.

"No." Harry grinned.

"Come on, do me a favor."

"Do you a favor? Fred, you have more sex than anyone I've ever met!"

Fred nodded, conceding the truth, "well yeah, but Harry, I stick my tongue down your throat and I get instant mileage."

"You are such a sleaze."

"At least I enjoy myself."

Harry changed the subject; "How's Ron?"

"Fuck, I don't know. I'm his brother, he's probably told you more than he's told me. He seems alright."

"Is he happy at home?"

"With Mum? I guess so."

"She hurt him."

"We all did. Pansy is a good buffer between them though. Mum can be pretty suffocating when she wants to be, but Pansy seems to love being mothered."

"And what about George?"

Fred shrugged, "George is good. He's dealing with it."

"How is he with Ron?"

"They're good, they're talking, they both feel pretty guilty but they'll be ok." Fred leaned forward and placed a hand on Harry's knee, "So, you gonna kiss me?"

"You're like a fucking bloodhound, you know that?"

"I know what I want."

"You're going to hate me," Harry admitted, removing Fred's hand from his knee, "I have to go."

"What?" Fred sat back, "why?"

"I have to study, " Harry laughed, "and I told Draco I'd be back at a reasonable hour."

"Who is he, your mother?"

"No," Harry reasoned, "I have to talk to him, that's all."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

Harry guess that it probably could, he just didn't want it to. "I told him I'd be back, he'll be waiting for me."

Fred focused on his drink for a while, swirling what was left in the glass, his lips thinning out a little. "Harry," he said at last, "why did you come if you weren't going to stay? Why did you come if you were just going to sit here and be a miserable shit all night and then pick yourself up and go running back to the castle because poor little Draco is waiting for you?"

"I…" Harry frowned and he scowled at Fred, "because you wanted to go out and you kept mentioning it so I came with you. I'm sorry if I don't want to jump into bed with you or scream like a hyena and wave my arms around at anyone who'll look at me. What I don't get is just why you want me to be like that. If you'd just wanted to get a drink I probably wouldn't mind staying, but you've been at me since the minute we got here, 'kiss me, touch me, do you top or bottom?' It's fucked!"

"Ok…" Fred drew breath, "I'm sorry, I thought you might enjoy it – I was wrong obviously." He tried to smile but he was as annoyed as Harry by this point, "you could have tried to have fun though…and if you didn't want to come you should have said something so I didn't waste my time bringing you here!"

They both fell silent, both studying their drinks and looking vacantly at the dance floor.

"I think I'll go," Harry muttered.

"Kiss me first."

"Oh for fucks sake!"

"Oh Come on! Just do it and I'll stop bothering you and you can run along home to your ex."

Harry scowled,

Fred nudged him, "Come on, live a little."

"And you'll never ask again? Ever?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Harry sighed and leaned forward and before he could think twice Fred's mouth crushed his.

********

Almost there…continued…