"It does explain a lot, you know?" Scott observed, watching Harry casting minor spells to get a feel of his wand back after so long.

"Uh-uh." Harry agreed, but Draco had an inkling he wasn't truly listening.

Scott noticed it, too, and poked him in the side with a foot. "Like the fact that you guys don't know anything about history. Or current events, actually. Or, you know, Harriett, that thing you used to do with your mouth that I always said was magical…" He sighed excessively, as if lost in blissful memories, and, at Draco's glare, winked.

"I'd watch what you are saying, if you are keen on keeping your bollocks." Draco snapped, waving his own wand in the direction of the other boy's crotch. Harry rolled his eyes and continued muttering under his breath.

"Touchy." Scott said, with a truly obnoxious grin that showed how unrepentant he actually was.

Draco regretted confiding in him. "Ugh, your friends are the worst, Potter." He complained loudly, to no reaction. Annoyed, he casted a Finite Incantatem, making the cup Harry had been transfiguring into a paper airplane revert back to his original form. It crashed to the floor, breaking in two clean halves.

"Reparo." Harry sighed, looking back up at the pair of them. Then, keeping his face impassable he turned to Scott. "Nothing magical about that. Just natural talent."

Draco gaped, but the other boy was already lost in concentration, trying to produce another wandless Lumos. They had quickly come to the conclusion that he had managed to cast the previous one solely based on his emotions at the time and the fact that his magic had been bottled up for so long. Harry, though, had missed an entire year of teaching and was determined to make up for it in any way he could.

"If only I knew what…" He kept mumbling, eyes shut tight.

"You need to relax." Draco told him, gently. He reached out to take Harry's hand, slowly smoothing the tense skin there until, one by one, each finger eased, releasing their deadly grip on the wand. Draco took it and put it on the sofa beside him. "We'll figure it out."

What exactly, he wasn't sure. His emotions had been as much of a jumble as Harry's, in the past few days. Still, he kept a small pressure on the other boy's palm, intertwining their fingers together.

Harry's eyes flew open and he snatched his hand away, looking guilty straight after. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked back for a moment like the only thing that he wanted to figure out was Draco, and Draco's heart pounded in his ears, blood rushing so fast he couldn't catch a breath.

Then Harry stood up and stretched, like nothing was amiss. Draco's gaze went, involuntarily, to the sliver of skin showing above his navel. The trapped air rushed out of his lungs in a long huff. Scott, who had been watching the exchange in surprising silence, caught him ogling and laughed, dissipating some of the tension.

"Hey, can I try it?" He said, pointing to the holly wand.

"Uh?" Harry replied, with the same far away look as before. Without waiting for Scott to repeat himself, Draco tossed him his own with a smirk.

"Sure. But it won't work, you are just a Muggle. It's not the wand that has the magic."

Scott pulled a rude face and caught it just inches away from hitting him in the chest. "Sounds a little offensive, Muggle I mean. Rhymes with struggle." He commented, without much heat.

"Would you prefer magic-less? Doesn't roll off the tongue, does it?" Replied Draco, who had just found out about "politically correct" in a conversation with Alberta a couple of weeks earlier. "It also rhymes with juggle and snuggle, for what it's worth. And neither of those are bad things."

"You know what I mean, it feels like a derogatory term."

"It's not meant to be." Harry said, the interest of whom had suddenly piqued. "It's just a name."

His eyes met Draco's again, and Draco could read what the other boy was not saying between the lines. It's the way you use it, not the word itself.

He sighed. "Either way, the wand is just a vessel to convey what we already have inside. It's just the way we are born. We can learn to control it and the many ways it can be bent to our needs, but as far as having it, that's not on us. We are lucky, I suppose. I used to think we were better, but you Muggles have adapted in ways we can't even imagine or begin to understand. What we can do with a wand you can do electricity or whatever you invented to make an airplane that big fly up in the air. True, I can apparate from one place to another within seconds, but I have come to appreciate when travelling takes time. Although, it's all about companionship. When someone has your taste in music, car rides can be a pain."

"Shut-o up-o!" Scott said, waving the wand menancily, his mouth stretched in an easy grin. Nothing happened, not that they expected it to.

"Nice try." Draco chuckled, picking up Harry's one and sending a jet of water spurting right at the other boy's face, in an entirely ostentatious display of power.

"Ahhhh! Friendly fire!" Scott spluttered, spatting a mouthful down his top. He glared, holding Draco's wand pointedly towards Harry, as if to prompt him to take it and avenge him.

Draco, who had been feeling Harry's gaze on him the whole time but had avoided looking back, finally turned to face him. Harry, quick as a whip, snatched a cushion from the sofa and chucked it hard at his face.

"You don't need a wand." He told Scott, shrugging. His expression was soft, after days of tense lines, and Draco could see the hint of a smile.

Some of the pressure on Draco's chest unclenched and he breathed out, feeling like he had passed some sort of test.

"My hero!" Scott cooed, adoringly, and Harry laughed, bowing slightly. Draco had the sudden feeling that he would miss moments like this. He also knew that part of him had already started to grieve the loss, before it even happened. A week. Their flight back had been scheduled in a week. Five days, now.

Draco had insisted on flying and Lupin, for once, had backed him up. He found himself hoping that a storm, or something, would cause the flight to be cancelled indefinitely, but he was well aware of the chances being null to zero.

Needing a distraction from his wandering thoughts, he tilted his chin to point at the wand in Scott's grasp. "How does it feel?"

"Extremely stupid!" Scott admitted. "It's just a stick." He observed it, turning it slowly in his fingers as if searching for something that made it special. "Why? How does it feel to you?"

Before Draco could speak, Harry replied instead. "Alive. It feels like an extension of my arm, as if it belongs there. I didn't know about magic for a long time, even though weird things kept happening around me… but when I picked up my wand for the first time everything really started to make sense. I could feel my magic, then. I didn't really think about it much at the time, but it was pretty wonderful. Everything around me was new and overwhelming, but in that instant I felt like I really knew my place in the world. This wand, it's not mine." He said, plucking it off Scott's slack hold. "I can tell. But it likes me, I think." He added, grinning beautifully. Then, his expression turned to mischief.

"Expecto Patronum!"

"Show off." Draco mumbled, watching the silver stag that had once scared the life out of him emerge from the tip of his traitorous wand. For a moment it seemed to falter, blurring in and out of existence, the magic coming from a borrowed wand not as strong. Then, with one last flicker, it settled in all of his glorious form, gazing at them placidly.

Scott gaped in awe as the Patronus bent his neck towards him, putting his impressive set of antlers on display. Draco scoffed, secretly admiring the shimmering silver of the creature's coat, his fingers itching to reach out and touch.

"What does it do?" Scott asked after a while. Draco had almost forgotten about him being there.

"It's a protector." Harry said, and the stag followed the sound of his voice like a moth to the flame. "It, er… shield from dark entities that suck your soul out."

"Suck your soul out?" The other boy repeated, horrified.

Draco smirked. "Yes. And not in the fun way you were implying our boy Harry here is adept at doing, either."

Harry dropped the cup he had just picked up from the floor, swearing loudly when it bounced off his bare toes. The stag gave him one last look, of what Draco was sure was pity, and faded away.

"Wai-what? Where did it go?"

"It had no job to do. No souls to suck around here, Scottie." Draco told him, with sorrowful regret.

Harry groaned.

"Wait a minute, souls are real?" Scott cried, wide brown eyes bouncing off the two of them like he had just been told that Santa was indeed a fat man reverse-burglarizing people's homes every December.

"Mm-m," Draco agreed, "although I am pretty sure I got mine sucked out a while ago." He stretched languidly, batting his eyelashes in Harry's direction, delighted at the look of distress the other boy was giving him.

"Care to prove me wrong, Potter?"

The room grew quiet. He was just starting to feel like he had gone too far and broke Harry for good, when the other boy tilted his head dangerously, giving him a calculating once over.

"Okay. Let's do it!"

"Wha- Right now?" Draco said, taken aback.

"Mm-m." Harry parroted back, like everything in his life was a goddamn challenge.

"Like… here?" Draco asked, glancing helplessly towards Scott, who looked a moment away from grabbing popcorn.

Harry took a step closer, and Draco found himself involuntarily scooting backwards in his seat. "Scared, Malfoy?"

At loss for something intelligent to shoot back, Draco made a strangled sound at the back of his throat that was, honestly, undignified. Harry smiled sweetly. "I thought so." And left, slamming the door of his bedroom behind him.

Scott let out a whistle, low and mocking. When Draco regained enough wit to turn to him, murder urges clear in his expression, the Muggle didn't appear frighten of the looming prospect of a painful death. "Looks like you have found your match." He chucked, carelessly. It was only Draco's newfound conscience that saved him from being hexed.

"Are you sure about this?" Allie asked, returning the uptenth box Draco had given her back to the right shelf.

"No." Draco said, chewing on his bottom lip while trying to decipher the label. "What's the difference between these?" He said, dangling two containers in front of her.

"Well, it depends. Do you want it to last?"

He confirmed, absentmindedly picking up a box that said Neon Green and quickly putting it back.

"This shit is ghastly."

"It would work well on you, to be fair." She said, reading the small prints of one of the two boxes he had passed her. "Why black, though? Is this about how the drapes should match the soul, or something?"

"With pink I would attract attention." He said diplomatically, looking pointedly up at her. Then, because he couldn't help himself being uncharitable when it came to Alberta, he added. "And I have some decency, thank you very much." In all honesty, it suited her, but he wasn't going to say as much.

She rolled her eyes, unaffected. "I wasn't suggesting pink, you aren't cool enough to pull it off. But what about brown…or ginger?"

"Begone, witch!" He gasped, bringing on hand over his heart.

"Oh, right. Why aren't you doing it by magic?" She asked, ignoring his dramatic flailing. "I saw you turning last night cutlery into spiders, I am sure you could easily change your hair colour if you wished to."

"Keep your voice down, will you?" He hissed, looking worryingly at the bunch of Muggles wandering around the aisle. An older woman glanced at the products they were browsing and gave him a judgmental turn of her nose. Suspecting that it was mostly aimed at Allie's balding, pink head, Draco sneered back.

"Oh, get over it. You were the one calling me witch not a minute ago." She replied, taking the latest box of hair dye from his hands and replacing it with a new one. It read Darkest Brown, under the picture of a woman showing far too many teeth. "But, seriously, why are you buying this stuff?"

"Cosmetic charms are more complicated than they sound." He explained, with a sigh. "They require a constant use of energy, although minimal in this case, to work. You can keep them up for a decent amount of time but it drains you a little, and it's not really worthy as there are counter charms that can reveal them. That's why we use polyjuice, as that's a potion that you drink and… well, there are other problems with using it that I don't care to explain right now. But this?" He pointed at the haircare products beside them. "This does not involve magic. It's the perfect disguise as it's not detectable. As you said my hair colour is, ehm… quite unique. And wizards don't tend to think of one of us using Muggle means."

He had been trying his best to explain magic to her, in simple terms, since the moment he had realised there was a sort of pleading request masked behind her increasing interest. It had almost broken him to admit he could not use his magic to cure her, as her body would not survive a charm that intense. There was no magic in her to accept and understand the intrusion of a healing spell. Although Muggles were often okay with something little, like a mended cut, their body would reject anything more, at the risk of their own lives. It was part of what made Muggleborn feel so helpless when confronted with their own parents' shorter, and often weaker, lifespans. Draco had never had to think about it that way. Thankfully, Allie had accepted it with grace, but he could not help feeling like he had failed her.

He glanced at her, trying to spot a crack in her shell he could blame himself for, but she looked her usual happy, confident self.

Shaking the thought away, he picked a few extra boxes of the colour Allie had suggested. Arms full, he strode towards one of the tills. He was certain that, by then, more than a couple of Muggle's eyes were trained on them, if nothing else for the weird picture he believed they made together.

"I'm sure you didn't need 12." She commented, reproachfully, once they had paid and exited. They stopped in the parking lot and she helped him unload some of his hoard into her backpack, shaking her head with an amused half smile. He stared back blankly, mostly to play dumb but partly because he had no idea how much hair dye one might need.

"You could have gotten the red dye for E-Harry!" She told him, nudging him playfully with one shoulder.

A particularly terrifying image entered Draco's thoughts. "You know what?" He said, after a while. "That might actually help with my… er… problem."

"Or you might find out you are into it. I've seen a picture of his mum and she was a hot redhead."

"Merlin forbid!" Draco sighed, nudging her back harder, until she stumbled. "You truly are terrible."

"Why do you need a disguise?" She asked, suddenly serious.

The shift in tone left Draco momentarily speechless. Then, he averted his eyes, starting to walk faster. "Don't ask questions you don't want answered." He muttered.

And, like that, they reached home in silence.

It was another three days before Draco decided to stop finding excuses and just do it. Allie had left and would only be back for their goodbye party, which was a mere 24 hours away, and Draco was still as blond as the day he was born. She had explained briefly what to do, but he had waved her off, reassuring her that he could indeed read instructions, unlike Harry.

He had been avoiding Harry, if he were to be honest with himself. For his part, the other boy had decided to spend every waking moment in his friends' company, or trying to cover as many shifts at the shop as Ellen allowed him to. They hadn't been alone in each other's presence, in fact, at all since that night Harry had taken him for an impromptu midnight swim.

That evening though, for some unknown reason that Draco could only blame on a bad alignment of the planets, Harry had decided to stay at home.

He could hear the other boy moving around his room, possibly packing.

He double-checked that Harry's door was closed before slipping soundlessly into the bathroom.

The woman on the box smiled at him, disturbing in her stillness. She looked fake, he thought, like a life-like puppet made of wax. Her hair fell in luscious curls around her shoulders, a dark brown that was almost black. Draco compared the colour to his own, slightly sun-kissed complexion in the mirror. Maybe this could work, he muttered to his reflection, sounding unconvinced of his own words.

The box contained gloves. Allie had said something about using them, if he didn't want to end up with black fingers, so he put them on. The plastic was flimsy and they were extremely ill fitted. He battled for a moment to open one of the containers included, before tossing them impatiently in the bin. What a great start.

He mixed the solution with the powder, as per instructions, looking at it turning thicker and darker. Then, before he could think about it twice, he dumped it on top of his head, massaging thoroughly with his fingers until it covered the entirety of his hair. He fought to swallow the knot in his throat as the white-blond strands disappeared behind the dye. He couldn't look at himself any longer, but he was quite certain that he had done a good job at spreading it evenly. A glop of the mixture fell onto the tip of his nose and Draco scrubbed it away with the back of his hand, cringing at the state of his fingers.

What a fuck up.

The door creaked behind him, and the lump in his throat swelled, until all it came out of his voice was a croak. "Have you not heard of knocking?"

"Sorry." Harry said quietly. Draco gripped the sides of the sink, hard, letting his head drop down. Most of his fringe came loose from the mess of sticky dye and fell onto his forehead, splattering his cheeks with tiny droplets. He cursed but, before he could do anything about it, Harry was there, grabbing his hand with the same gentle pressure Draco had used on him some days before.

"Here." He said, placing a damp tissue, that reeked of chemicals, into his open palm. "It's rubbing alcohol. It will help." He assured, at Draco's weary look.

When it became clear that the other boy was mostly unresponsive, Harry sighed. Picking the tissue back up, he moved Draco's sopping wet fringe out of his eyes and started dabbing at his skin. Draco didn't dare to move, his back pressing painfully against the sink.

"Allie told me what you wanted to do. I took a lucky guess that now was probably your last chance to do it undisturbed."

"Of course she did." Draco muttered. "And you seem to have trouble grasping the concept of undisturbed."

"You would have ended up with a thousand black freckles. And you hate freckles." Harry replied, turning Draco's hands around to examine the damage. "Tergeo."

They both watched as the black spots vanished, Draco's pink skin regaining its natural pallor. Then, Draco looked up. "I don't hate freckles." His voice was small, unsure.

Harry took a breath and looked back. "No. You seem to like mine."

"Mm-m" Draco agreed. He moved a step forward, until his hands, which were still held loosely in Harry's grasp, rested against the other boy's flat stomach. Harry let his arms drop, eyes wide and unblinking, and Draco took the opportunity to reach for the hem of his t-shirt. Hooking his fingers underneath, he pulled until Harry was forced to move towards him.

"You should really do your eyebrows." Harry said, and Draco had forgotten all about that.

"What?" Oh Merlin, fuck. He must look a fright. What in hell was he thinking?

He stepped back, bumping into the sink hard enough to leave a bruise. To his shock, Harry followed, moving so close that their bodies almost, but not quite, touched. As Draco seemed to have frozen again, he reached for the bottle of dye, squirting a small amount on the tip of his index and passing it softly over one eyebrow and then the other.

"Not sure how good of a job I've done but it should do. I can clean your skin after." He said, sounding slightly out of breath. "Do you want to watch tv while we wait?"

"No." Someone with Draco's voice replied from inside of Draco's body.

"Okay." Harry conceded, as if it was that simple. He let himself slide to the floor, resting his back against the bath, and started playing with a loose thread on the scuffed trim of his shorts.

It was a while before either of them spoke again.

"How long do you need to leave it on?"

"I don't know." Draco said, recognising that the sounds were coming from himself. "Half an hour?"

"Okay." Harry repeated, and went back to fidgeting with his clothes.

"I think I might be into you." Draco blurted, apropos of nothing. "And I don't know what to do with it."

Harry looked up, surprised. "Oh."

"Well, I don't think it really comes as shocking news." Draco told him, because they had both known it was the truth for a while.

"No." Harry admitted, pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes. Draco didn't expect him to say more. To be honest he was wondering what the other boy was still doing in the bathroom. Harry's Gryffindor tendencies, though, didn't seem capable of being contained and, after an awkward pause, he spoke again. "Honest-".

He cleared his voice, trying again. "Honestly, I am not sure what to do with it either. And I don't get it… us, it doesn't make sense."

"Well-" Draco tried to argue, but Harry interrupted him with a shake of his head.

"Thing is, I find myself helplessly into you, too."

Draco's heart stopped, and he flopped to the floor as if someone had cut the strings that held him straight. He drew his knees up, hugging them protectively to his chest, and watched Harry intently as he fumbled for words.

"I didn't want to admit it, I think. Not with our past but… as much as that version of you was real, and I hated you…like a lot…"

"Don't hold anything back." Draco replied, sarcastically.

"Whatever, we both know you hated me right back." Harry raised one eyebrow, daring Draco to contradict him.

"Fair enough. But, please, go on." He urged, hoping that the pleading hint of desperation remained concealed behind the sharpness of his voice.

"You were a dick, Draco. A bigoted, pompous dick."

"But?"

"But I can't seem to forget the last month. You know stuff about me that I have never shared with anyone from our world before. Even while being someone else many of the things I told you were true, and I think you know that. Yet, it came so easy, and I don't believe you were faking the things you have said to me, either. Remus agrees."

"That meddling…" Draco groaned, kicking at a dirty sock that had been left on the floor.

"He didn't tell me much, don't worry. But he seems pretty fond of you, in a strange way. It was my birthday that keeps messing with my head, though. I've never had presents, growing up and what you gave me…"

"It was stupid!" Draco said, embarrassed. It had been such an idiotic idea.

"I loved it." Harry confessed, and he sounded so sincere that Draco's heart stopped once more, waiting in trepidation for the next words to start beating again. "It was… surprisingly thoughtful. And funny. It showed me that you had been listening… that you remembered a silly little comment I had made and recognised it meant something to me. What- what happened to the kite? And the doll?"

"I went back, during the night while you were knocked out. I summoned them, I am not sure why. The kite has a hole, it's useless now… I…the- they are in my room."

He hadn't noticed Harry moving until a hand landed on his knee, delicately as if unsure of its right to be there.

"Could I have them back?" Harry asked, and Draco felt himself blushing like an 11 years old in front of his first school crush.

"Whatever, Potter. They are yours."

"Do you think it has been 30 minutes, yet?" Harry breathed, as if suddenly remembering something important. It sounded so damned close to his ear that Draco became afraid his blood was seconds away from rushing south. And, really, he needed all of his blood to stay put as, once left unaided and vulnerable, his brain was known to say the dumbest of things.

"What do you need 30 minutes for?" He mumbled, proving his suspicions to be, sadly, on point.

"You better wash it off before it burns all of your roots and the hair starts falling." Harry admonished, and Draco stood up so fast their heads knocked together.

"It does what?" He shrieked, checking himself in the mirror.

"Ouch, fuck!" Harry was muttering, rubbing one of his cheeks that was now covered in dark brown goo.

"I better wash this off." Draco repeated, half talking to himself. "Ok, well… I'll have to use your shampoo, I am out. Where should I- and for the love of Merlin, Potter, go and wash your face somewhere."

Pushing Harry unceremoniously out of the bathroom, Draco slammed the door and jumped into the shower, with his clothes and all.

"I am not quite sure." He said to the shut door, some ten minutes later.

"Well, if you just opened up I could give you my opinion, instead of talking to the wood." Argued Harry's muffled voice from outside.

"Fine!" Draco gave in, opening the door so suddenly that he had to catch the body that came tumbling in. The single towel he was wearing around his waist slipped down a little, and Draco coughed, pushing Harry back up with more force than necessary.

"So…"

"Oh…"

"Yeah…"

"Oh, uhm. It's not… bad. It really isn't. You, ehm. How can I say this without it sounding weird?" Harry stuttered, rubbing the back of his head, eyes flying everywhere but on Draco.

"Out with it!" Draco ordered, pulling the towel back around his waist and securing it firmly with a hand.

"Well, you sort of remind me a little… just a bit… of your cousin."

"Nymphadora?" Draco said, perplexed, thinking of the only cousin he could remember having. She was in the Order of the Phoenix, of that he was sure but, regarding how she looked, he really could not recollect much details. Was she even a brunette?

He had checked himself over and over in the mirror, before Harry had started knocking, and the result wasn't as bad as he had expected. But, Nymphadora? He really didn't know what to think about that.

"What? Tonks? No, Jesus. I meant… you know, nevermind. It's not bad, you can sort of pull it off." Harry said, tilting his head speculatively. He didn't look repulsed.

Not sure of which part of that his mind had registered as a love confession, Draco found himself suddenly, and rather inexplicably, surging forward. As their lips touched, part of him was aware of having made the first move towards a point of no return.

Most of him, though, could not give a damn.

Sensing that Harry was about to be the sensible one, Draco groaned "No!", and licked his way into the other boy's mouth, effectively silencing any attempt at protest.

As he walked Harry backwards towards the first available room, his mind was completely void of any reason why this had ever been a bad idea.