Draco dreamt of Quidditch of all things. At first it was freeing, the bite of wind on his cheeks and his feet dangling miles above the ground, like he was on top of the world. Like he wasn't suffocating in responsibilities and dirt. Even in his subconscious he sensed it, the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of the chase, and leave it to him to feel the most alive while he was dreaming.

A glint of gold and he was steering the handle of his broom. Just a touch, because in his fantasies he rode a Thunderbolt VII, the new best on the market. Then, and he should have expected it, because his dreams were never not nightmares, Potter was there. Draco pulled at his broom, decreasing his speed to a nearly halt, and looked at the other boy diving towards the snitch like a bird of prey. Gracious and focused, his features blurred by the distance and momentum. An heartbeat was all it took, in the strange contorted timeline that was Dreamland, and Draco was urging his broom forward like a horse, thinking "faster" and "it's on".

But Potter didn't stop at the snitch. He kept speeding towards the ground, broom gone, and he was falling. Falling. Falling.

Draco felt his fingers circling metal as soon as the other boy hit the grass below, and he froze. Suddenly he wasn't miles from the ground anymore, barely feets, hovering in mid air like a feather. Weightless, lost.

Potter wasn't broken, sprawled limbs and blood. He just laid like a doll, unblemished, and even from close up Draco noticed that his features were blurry, like his memory wasn't sure of what the other boy looked like anymore. Only his eyes were clear, open and so very green that Draco thought it was all a dream, because no one had eyes that green. He wanted to lose himself in those eyes and never resurface, and that too was the dream, because it didn't make a lick of sense.

He was still staring when someone was abruptly there, cradling Potter's corpse in their lap. Draco felt the compulsion to shout "Get off him, get off".

But his eyes locked with Theo's washed out blue, and Theo was crying, pointing a trembling finger at him "You killed him! You killed him! I told you, Draco, not to go too far."

"Stop, Theo, please. It wasn't me, it was him. He was riding that broom, I didn't- I wasn't. It was his choice. . . It wasn't me, you have to believe me Theo!" He was aware he was blabbering, but he couldn't care.

The other boy was shaking his head, sobbing. His light brown curls flopped in his eyes, eerily messy like Potter's, and for a mad minute Draco thought they looked like brothers. But Theo's eyes weren't bright, sharp. Deep, soul sucking. They didn't kill, the same colour of forbidden spells and green, lively forests.

"You did this, Draco. There is nowhere for you to hide and, now, we are all gonna die."

Theo vanished and Draco was on the ground instead, Potter a heavy weight in his arms.

He woke up murmuring "Sorry it had to be you, but I don't wanna die."

His legs were tangled in sheets and cotton shorts, the green t-shirt drenched in sweat. The other boy's clothes hadn't strangled him in his sleep, and, even from an ocean away, Potter couldn't do anything right.

He blanched, realising that he had just wished to die when, mere seconds before, his subconscious clearly knew how much he really wanted to survive this.

A life for a life. Not his life, selfish bastard that he was.

As his eyes adjusted to the light he noticed a picture on the bed side table. A muggle picture, deadly still. Even like that, just slits caught in the middle of a laugh and barely older than 13, Potter's irises were really that green.

Lupin was already in the kitchen, hunched over a cup of coffee. Draco snatched the pot from the counter and drank directly from it, swallowing it all in two big gulps.

"Well, if you aren't a sight for sore eyes." The other man looked like shit.

Lupin ignored him, eyes scanning the Prophet worriedly. "I think he has to be you, to find Harry I mean".

Draco stopped his perusal of the shelves for anything edible and yelped "What? Absolutely not! I think you need to think again when you are clearly not high on wolfsbane".

"Draco" and when had Lupin started to sound so much like his mother "the full moon is in a week, I can't risk roaming around Muggles. On top of that I have work to do for the Order. We are all mourning but soon things will have to get moving again, I expect the Ministry to fall before the end of summer. You, on the other hand. . . You asked for a new identity, no one is looking for you" he added, with a tinge of guilt.

"Fuck you. It's not like you are giving me a choice." But Draco had to agree, because he couldn't do anything else. "How are we even finding Potter when you have no idea of where he is?"

"Well, that's not entirely true. I think he travelled a bit, at the beginning. But Evan James wanted to go to California, and I have my reasons to believe he came back where he started. He settled by the coast, at least. And. . .I have something that can help us."Lupin confessed, like he was already regretting it.

"What?" Draco asked, flailing his arms around wildly "Because if it isn't the biggest fucking dose of luck, I really can't see how-"

"Not exactly" Lupin actually smiled at that "but close. Do you remember how Hermione won a bottle of felix felicis in Slughorn's competition?"

Draco fixed him with a disbelieving stare, which actually elicited an amused chuckle out of the other wizard "I thought so. She, at least, seems to think that your face that day was the highlight of her year".

"What an amazing sense of humor, no wonder we are best friends." Draco scoffed, and then vindictively "And she only has you to thank for her wonderful year, doesn't she?"

Lupin instantly sobered. "You are right, I am sorry. She really is the cleverest witch of her age, though. We needed to, uh, have a chat with Slughorn about something and Hermione thought why not take advantage of a little bit of luck. It's really hard to come across felix felicis, almost impossible, but she said we were in a war. . . That she was scared for her friends, that she was hoping to find Harry one day. . . So she managed to get three more vials after that. I- I have one, should be enough for a 24 hours dose or two 12 hours ones, if you half it."

"Wait, why don't you send her instead?" It was a weak objection, one not carrying much hope.

"Mostly for the same reasons why I am not going myself. Her absence will be noticed and that means the Aurors will be involved. Harry has no idea of any of this. It would be overwhelming to say the least, even without considering how an international operation of that sort would definitely alert the enemy. And, well, think about what would happen if You Know Who gets his hands on an Harry with no memories."

"Fine." Draco gritted out, not that he was expecting any different "And how are you planning to do this?"

"We have a month and a half before Harry's birthday, when he will lose the trace. I think- wait, you are actually of age, right?"

"Oh yeah" Draco replied with mock casualty "Just fresh from my 17th party actually. I have to say, between my father's birthday wishes from prison and the impending matter of murdering the Headmaster, I made the most of it. Why, are you thinking of getting me a belated present?"

"I am sorry". Lupin said again, and Draco felt there was an understanding there, a sort of kinship. Shitty birthdays were apparently a bonding experience, because his shoulders relaxed fractionally, some of the anger deflating. He considered the man in front of him, and he was suddenly hit with the realisation that Lupin wasn't much older than him, if at all, when he had to live through the First War. He wasn't really sure of the story there, but he had heard rumors of the friendship between his former Professor and the Potters. How many people had the other man lost? Lupin didn't speak to him with pity, he spoke as a man that knew what it meant and didn't wish it on anybody else.

"It's okay. But yeah, I am of age."

"Perfect." And wasn't it just. "I think it would be best to wait and give Harry's memories back after his birthday, in case he does something that could be traced back to him."

"You mean when he lashes out and hexes me into next century, therefore alerting everyone and their mothers of his secret location?" He couldn't help the snark.

"Yes."

"Well, then. And how will he regain his memories?" Draco was genuinely interested in that point.

"I'll teach you the spell. But, Draco, they are somewhat connected to triggers of magic, a failsafe of sort, if you wish. It doesn't mean he will regain everything if he sees you using your wand in front of him, but it might bring some memories back. So, you need to be careful, at least until the end of July. I am not sure how long it will take you to find him, though, so you should prepare to leave soon". And with that he was up and pacing the kitchen as if soon meant right there and then.

"Lucky me!" Draco mumbled "I suppose this is the moment to make you aware of my lack of underwear and general clothing. No offence, but I am not planning to keep wearing Potter's."

He tugged at the green t-shirt that was still uncomfortably plastered against his skin.

"Oh" Lupin said with a strange mix between a grimace and dread "Let's go shopping".

Draco looked down at his new shoes, still doubtful. The black pair of high top sneakers stared back at him, not offering much consolation. "Absolutely not!"

"You are fixating on details! Who cares what-"

Lupin's voice was reaching a new level of exasperation that a morning spent buying clothes for someone used to expensive and tailored cuts hadn't helped with at all.

"You are fucking kidding me! If you think I am gonna change my name to Diego like I am some sort of cheap love interest in one of those hispanic radionovelas my mother listens to on the wireless, you have to be even more stupid than I thought. And the level was pretty high already."

What had his life become.

"I thought that, since it sounds similar to your own, it would be harder to get confused." There was an edge of danger in Lupin's voice.

"I am not changing my fucking name." Draco countered, matching the tone.

"Do you know how many Dracos there are in the Muggle world? Zero! That's how. Fucking. Many."

Ugh, so much for the mild, placating teacher persona. Lupin's control was slipping and Draco wanted to give it a shove.

"I don't care." It wasn't his fault none of those Muggles had any taste whatsoever.

"Well then, be caught." It almost sounded like the other man meant it, but Draco couldn't give up just yet.

"I am not changing my name to Diego. It sounds ridiculous. Do I look like a Diego to you?" This whole thing was ridiculous and maybe dying at the hand of the Dark Lord would have turned out easier. Surely less painful.

"What about your middle name?"

"Let's not go there!" No fucking way.

"It would be only for a few months!"

"A few months too many!"

"You are impossible! It's not my fault your family has a thing for stupid names!" Lupin's eyes were slits and Draco smirked.

"Ah, because Remus. . ."

"Fine, you chose!"

There was something, a bittersweet memory, but patience was stretching thin on both sides and someone had to give "Well. My mother, when I was little, she used to call me Dee. So, something like Dean I guess." Like that Muggleborn Gryffindor that was banging the girl Weasel, Draco thought hysterically. His mother would be so proud.

"Fine. Dean Mallory it is."

"Fine." Draco truly hoped that, if there was justice in this world, he would be amply rewarded for the shit he had to put up with.

"Fine. I am gonna go, take care of this. Help yourself to the pantry. I went food shopping while you were trying on the 100th shade of burgundy, so bon appetit, Dean." And Lupin departed in a flurry of garments that would have impressed Snape.

Draco was left sulking in the kitchen, pulling at the loose threads of his new black jeans. He had never owned a pair and they were slightly stiff. Seeing the reaction of the girl in the Muggle shop, though, they clearly did good things to his assets so, at least, there was that.