"If you are about to say something about mistakes and whatnot, I will hex you." Draco said, not looking up from where his fingers were tracing absentminded patterns on Harry's belly.

"M-mh? I wasn't." Harry yawned. He had propped himself up on his elbow, and was observing Draco sleepily between half closed lids.

"You weren't?" Draco said, somewhat dubious. He let his hand sprawl on the other boy's stomach, wondering what the fuck they were doing. With Theo, there had always been some air of remorse, after. A lingering sadness. Maybe guilt, as if they had both known they were using each other for release and not much more. Maybe pain at the fact that they had been drifting apart for quite some time and could not stop it. Draco had hated the feeling. What would Theo think of him now? The other boy had hardly been in his mind lately, and Draco felt a pang of guilt.

"No." Harry said, firmly, shaking him out of his thoughts. "Are you?"

"No." He sighed, resting his forehead against Harry's ribcage. He placed a small kiss onto the soft skin there and Harry shifted, inhaling sharply. He wasn't sure why he had done it, but he felt a shiver of content travel down his body as Harry responded by running a hand through his hair, messing the newly dyed strands.

"It's strange." Harry told him, letting the dark locks fall in between his fingers, over and over, in a soothing motion. "Seeing you like this."

"Because I don't look like myself?" Draco asked, a little bitterly, voice muffled against the other boy's skin. "Or because I remind you of your dead Godfather?" He added, wishing immediately that he could take it back.

"Well, it helps, somehow." Harry admitted, his tone bordering frustration. "Not the Sirius thing, I mean. The fact that you look different. I- you still look like yourself, but… it- it just helps separating the now from the past, you know. I-err."

"I get it." Draco said, lifting his head to look at the other boy. "It helped me too, that you have changed quite a bit in the last year."

"I guess I have. Anyway, I meant seeing this side of you. This." He waved between the two of them, dislodging Draco from atop him. "Would never have happened at Hogwarts."

"Good thing we are never going back to Hogwarts, then." Draco said, voicing a thought he was sure had been in both of their minds a lot, in the last week. He sat up, putting one of the pillows behind his back. Harry straightened, too, until they were at the same level, their sides pressed together.

Draco's gaze trailed the length of their legs, covered solely in thin pyjamas shorts, and all the way down to their feet. They were almost at the same distance, as he only had an inch or so on the other boy. He knocked them together and Harry's toes curled. Draco wondered if he was ticklish there, too. Somehow, he had missed the chance to find out, despite how little boundaries they had gotten used to in the last few weeks together.

Harry's feet were rather small for a boy his height, a good two sizes shorter than his, bony and narrow. Petite, like his hands. Draco smiled at the tan lines left by their flip-flops, visible on both their skin tones but in much more contrast on Harry's.

Who would have thought that happiness was as simple as bare, sun kissed skin marked by the signs of a good time. He knew it was an image he wouldn't soon forget, especially now that things were about to take an abrupt turn for the unknown.

"It's surprising you have such tiny feet, considering…" He teased, if only to prolong the sense of levity a little longer.

"You are an idiot." Harry replied, in the clear, dismissive tone of someone that was above such juvenile jokes. Draco was reminded fleetingly of Granger, waiting for them, for Harry, back home.

"Do you really think we'll never go back?" He added, after a short pause.

Just like that, the levity was broken. Reality really was a bitch.

"I don't see how that would be possible. Not for the two of us, at least." Draco wasn't sure he even wanted to, after the last ten months, but he knew it might be harder for Harry to accept.

"If you had told me last year, the idea would have devastated me. My life had never been any good, before Hogwarts. Not the bits I could remember, at least." It was said so matter-of-factly that Draco felt a strong surge of hate towards those Muggles that had failed to raise Harry the way a child deserved.

"That's fucked up, I hope you are aware of that. Those fucking Mu-relative of yours, I swear…"

"You curse a lot, for someone with such a posh upbringing." The other boy observed, tone light and unaffected. Only the slight twitch of his fingers gave away that, perhaps, he wasn't so immune to his past as he wanted others to believe. Draco dug his own nails into the mattress and dragged them, frustrated and unsure of why he was feeling so angry on Harry's behalf. Harry smoothed the indentations left behind on the covers and nudged him. When he spoke, his mouth was curled at the corner, the tense lines gone. "You can still call them Muggle, you know. As you have seen for yourself, they are not all so bad."

"Not sure if I agree. Scott is definitely a wanker and Allie is a witch, but the Muggle way, like in Snow White." Harry's smile widened and Draco wondered briefly if he was allowed to kiss it off, if that was something they did now. They fell into silence instead, both contemplating things they could not find words for. Then Draco thought of Lupin. "Now that I think of it, Remus has told me something along those lines before. That I was rather mouthy for a Malfoy, or whatever. Like that's not the whole fucking point."

"Remus?" Harry asked, one eyebrow quirked in that lopsided way of his that made him look both attractive and like an idiot.

"Oh, fuck off. You bloody well know it was a slip of the tongue."

"M-mm." Harry said, but he was frowning. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"It's a heavy name to carry, mine." Draco sighed, and Harry's frown turned inquisitive, almost disbelieving. Draco hated how quickly he hastened to explain before the other boy could think any less of him. "You see, I've always seeked my father's approval. And- please let me finish…" He turned to face the other boy fully, drawing his legs up protectively towards his middle. Harry snapped his mouth shut and looked back. "My father loves me, I am sure of that, but he has certain…expectations- don't give me that look, I know how you feel about him… Anyway, he's always given me everything I've ever asked for except the freedom to be a normal, silly child. We have a reputation to uphold, as Malfoys. I needed to look proper, sound proper and all that…so, behind his back I liked to- ehm, talk like the "pueblo"…" He drifted off, trying to find the right word to make it sound less pathetic than it was.

"Let me get this right, and I will give you a pass on the whole "pueblo" business because I am sure that telly has ruined you, " Harry interrupted, eyes dancing with mirth. "You "defy" your father by using language "he doesn't approve of" and he doesn't even know?"

He grinned, air-quoting, and Draco scowled. "That's completely beside the point!" He snapped, embarrassed. "I'm well aware of how idiotic it sounds but I'm not sure you really get it. It's easier to defy someone you already don't respect. You learnt not to give a fuck about your relatives' opinion of you, and I am sure it was hard to get to that point but… I wanted my father to be proud of me, I always have. It gets tiring after a while, though. You were this tiny spitfire of a boy, defiant and careless of the rules and I think, Potter…" In saying this he made sure that the other boy was still looking at him. The smile had slipped off Harry's lips, but his gaze remained unwavering. Draco took a deep breath and continued. "I think that part of me was always a little envious of you. Swearing under my breath every time father lectured me on some thing or another was the only way for me to feel, at least partially, in control of my life… A little daring, like Harry bloody Potter. You weren't perfect and, still, people liked you better than me. I didn't want to be perfect, I wanted to be cool." To be liked and admired, he added in his mind, feeling quite the loser.

"Not many people have really ever liked me for who I was." Harry said, and Draco wondered when he had started biting his nails again. "I'm famous for something I hardly accomplished on my own merits and, to be honest, I feel like I rarely meet expectations anyway."

"And do you care?" Draco asked, genuinely curious. He never had the impression Harry did.

Harry dragged his teeth across the nail of his thumb, thinking, then shook his head. "Not really, no. Still, it would be nice for people to see the person behind the name, sometimes."

"You have plenty of real friends." Draco argued. "Granger and the Weasel would literally die for you."

He realised it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words had left his lips. Harry stood abruptly and Draco felt the loss of contact as a shiver across his skin, a drop in temperature. His hand made a half aborted motion toward the other boy and then fell down again, clenching the covers in frustration.

"I've never wanted that." Harry protested, predictably. He yanked his glasses from the bedside table and turned away, staring stubbornly at the floor. His fingers scratched at the short hair at the base of his neck, as they always did when he was aggravated. Draco was amazed he had picked up on so many tells in the little time they have been close, but truth was he had leant to understand the other boy better than he had ever planned to. After all, observing Harry had become a sort of hobby of his, albeit one he had acquired unconsciously. It was because of it that he knew with certainty Harry was about to leave, before the other boy even made a move for the door.

This knowledge, for some reason, angered him. He sat on the edge of the bed and hissed, in a voice that he had not used with Harry in a really long time. "Oh, come off it, Potter."

The other boy stilled, but didn't turn. Draco felt his anger flare, craving for a reaction. "You are such a hypocrite. Leave if you are not ready to hear this, but it won't make it any less true."

"How so?" Harry said, spinning around. His voice was deceivingly calm, but the eyes behind the lenses were flashing.

"What do you think? You have the balls to say self righteous bullshit like this and then act like you are the only one allowed to risk his arse for others. Oh, poor Saint Potter, how dare people care enough for him. It's not all about you, Harry. And, even when it is, you are not responsible for someone else's choices! Take your mother… she died because she could not live without you, and she wanted to at least give one of you a chance. There wasn't any other way, she was doomed the moment someone put a target on your back. I get it, that after your parents died you were deprived of that kind of love… but you need to accept that there are still people out there who actually value your life, even when you don't. You would die for Granger and Weasley, we both know it. Hell, you would die for much lesser people… So, why the fuck would you not get that it works both ways?"

Harry stared, dumbfounded. "I…"

"I'm still not sure if it's arrogance or self loathing but this is not only your war, it concerns all of us. Don't undermine people's agency just because you can't keep everybody safe, it's their choice at the end of the day." The anger seemed to drain out of his body at once, replaced by a strong sense of determination Draco believed was partially caused by Harry's influence. "I'm telling you all of this because, whatever this thing between the two of us is… however it will evolve, I know there will be a day when you'll tell me to stay behind. So I want you to know, forget it already. Fuck that, it won't work on Granger and Weasley and it won't work on me."

"It's self defence." Harry said after a long pause, his own temper deflating. He looked sad now, older. Like a weary man trapped in the body of a teenager, whose appearance was deceiving of the things he had witnessed.

"It's- what?"

"It's not arrogance, and I don't really hate myself…It's a defence mechanism, if you will. Have you ever lost someone?"

"No." Draco admitted, unsure of where this was going.

"When you die, you die and that's it. But, when you are the one that's left behind, you have to carry on knowing that it will never be the same. All the future that you had imagined with that person it's gone… Like actually..." He looked helplessly at his hands and Draco's heart clenched. "So, yes, sometimes I do wish I could do it all on my own, whatever the outcome."

"But what about the people that you leave behind?" Draco had been trying hard not to think about the goddamn prophecy. How one day, maybe soon, that would be him. He had been trying, but fuck it all if it was working. He could physically feel the tremors of desperation in his throat, and still he could not find it in himself to regret it, if it meant he and Harry got to reach the point they were standing at now. He couldn't care less if the future would shatter his heart if he got to have the present a little longer, and if the present tasted of Harry some way or another.

And maybe it was the whole point of this fucking journey he never wanted to embark on and found himself enjoying every jolt of the way. Maybe it was all part of his growth. His damnation and his redemption, to sit on a secret so big it could, and would, tear his soul to pieces, and still decide to accept that there was no other way but to let himself fall. Because he had been falling, for quite a while. Slowly, inevitably and, all at once, fast and hard. Knowing that Harry was gonna die at the end of it, and Draco had no doubt now that the idiot would, did not change one bit of it.

Maybe he was just extremely stupid, but he was strangely okay with it.

"What about them?" He said, again, trying to pretend he wasn't talking about himself.

Harry didn't answer. He opened the window and braced himself against the frame, looking outwards. Focus lost in the distance, he took in the smell of the sea in deep, slow breaths.

"If you are going to climb down that tree just to get away from talking about this, I swear to God…" Draco stood abruptly, taking cautious steps in Harry's direction with the same hesitancy of someone approaching a wild beast.

Harry almost laughed at the panic in his voice. "Jesus, I am not gonna jump." He sat on the window sill and Draco barely stopped himself from telling him how dangerous that was. "Look, I am not saying you are wrong. Hermione has told me before that my saviour complex, or whatever, is something I need to learn to let go of. But… grief changes you, look at Ellen. She has uprooted all her life after her daughter died. She is a wonderful person, and full of joy, but there will always be something missing. I am nobody's child, it's different. I have no family, besides my friends. Ron, Hermione. The others…how can I ask them to- when I am well aware what it would do to their families?"

Draco wanted to argue, he really did, but part of him understood why Harry would be thinking that. He knew that having Snape alive, proof that the terms of the Vow had not been broken, was probably the only thing keeping his mother sane. Hopeful. Draco had to believe she still was.

Harry was wrong, though. Draco had witnessed it firsthand. How a whole year had barely changed the look of loss on his friends' faces, only making the lines deeper and the hope dwindle. How, fucking ironic as it was, that pain had all been but mere preparation to the worse that was inevitably yet to come.

Just, this time, Draco would be there, front of the line, taking Harry's fate straight to the heart and onto his knees.

Don't think about it! He scolded himself, clenching his teeth hard and inhaling. "Let's look at the positives, then. I, for one, can't wait to see the look on Weasley's face when he figures out our current arrangements."

"Our-what?" Harry's eyes widened comically, his cheeks flushing red. "I- Jesus!"

"Oh, I see." Draco said bitterly, trying not to feel disappointed. "I had the inkling seeing your sidekicks would change things, I just-" He drifted off, thinking that maybe he should consider jumping out of the window instead.

"Wait, no." Harry said, his voice steadier. "I've already told you I don't regret this…"

"Despite me being Draco Malfoy, it was fun, yada yada… Yes, I know how it goes. Save it." Draco finished for him.

"Would you let me speak, for fuck sake? I simply hadn't really thought about it and you caught me off guard. It'll be quite interesting to explain, that's for sure. Although I am curious to know why you think Ron would be the only problem?"

"I need to believe he will, Potter, as the alternative is far scarier. I don't want to think what kind of hexes Granger can concoct to disintegrate me without leaving a trace." Draco replied, breathing a little easier.

"Yeah." Harry smiled, bright and delighted once again. "Better get packing, then."

And, to Draco absolute dismay, he left the room, twirling his wand in between his fingers.

The rest of the day passed slowly, with a dream-like quality that left behind little more than a fog of indiscernible sensations. Come evening, they were both exhausted and emotionally drained.

Harry had a year of memories and people to part with, not knowing for how long. Draco, on the other side, knew very well that the chances for either of them to ever come back were virtually none, despite the promises he kept exchanging.

Allie alone seemed aware of his thoughts, as she kept glancing in his direction, eyes narrowed until he would eventually be the one to break contact.

Draco was still unconvinced she couldn't read minds.

The questions hidden in her eyes were enough for him to seek refuge at one of the more secluded tables, partially hidden behind a column. Ellen had shut down the Hatter for the night and the space was now crowded with people that wanted to say goodbye. Goodbye to Harry, Draco thought with no traces of bitterness. After all it was Harry, or Evan, as most of them still knew him by, that they would miss most once they were both gone. Draco knew a month was not enough for him to have made the same impact Harry had, but meeting these people had been life changing on his side. Part of him liked to believe they would remember him, too.

He took a sip of his coke and watched as Scott's hand rested casually on the small of Harry's back, and Harry leaned into the touch almost involuntarily, comfortable. At home. Draco swallowed another mouthful of his drink and looked away.

The column in front of him was peppered in a multitude of pictures and he recognised his own, blond head in a few of the most recent ones. Draco had hardly ever noticed people taking pictures of him, and if he were to be honest he had never paid muggle ones any attention, weird as they were in their stillness. Now, though, he had nothing better to do and his eyes skimmed across the surface of the column until they landed on a single snap of himself. The Draco in the picture was caught trying to suppress a snort, eyes wide, incredulous and amused. His face tilted, looking at something to the left, out of shot.

Someone, Draco knew. Harry had been having an unfortunate kind of day and Draco, who had arrived at the cafe lured by the promise of free lunch, had enjoyed the blunt of it from his strategically positioned armchair. There was something compelling about watching the other boy stumbling sleepily through menial tasks and looking grumpy. Draco had been about to make some rude comment or another about Harry's lack of grace when a tin, full of cocoa powder that had been stored precariously on one of the shelves, had fallen directly onto the other boy's path, hitting him in the shoulder and covering him in brown dust. If Draco hadn't been so sure he could recognise the feeling, he would have guessed his own accidental magic to be responsible, perfect as the timing had been.

It couldn't have been much longer than a couple of weeks before, just days from Harry's birthday, but Draco felt it was that sort of memory that would stay with him forever, no need for a pensieve. After all, one does not often forget the moment he first realises to be falling in love.

It was, in fact, then that he had finally admitted to himself things were surely heading that way.

If asked, it would be the imagery of Harry trying with increased frustration to dust himself off, hands still wet from cleaning the counter and clinging to every single particle of cocoa powder in the same way water would to mud, what had gotten Draco to accept that that idiot in front of him might very well be The One.

Draco peeled the picture off the wall, careful to avoid leaving fingerprints all over the glossy surface. There were others, of Harry, he wanted to take and, in a moment, he would get there. But, for now, Draco held the slightly blurred, printed version of himself and stared. There were merits in muggle pictures, he reasoned, observing the perfect, single second captured on film. His joy, the one he had felt and still could remember so well, immutable on photographic paper. Forever.

As weird as he felt about wanting a picture of himself, he quickly checked around and whipped out the tip of his wand. Whispering "Gemini", a perfect duplicate of it fell on the table beside his glass. He quickly repositioned the original one on the wall, pressing gently for the tape to stick, and casted a few protective charms onto his own copy. He was about to pocket it when a voice from behind startled him.

"Neat little trick, that is." Ellen said, with a wink.

"F-egh, I didn't see you there." He replied, breathing fast. He really needed to be more careful with his magic. If it had been anyone else but her, or one of the other two that knew, Draco would have had a lot of explaining to do in a room full of Muggles. "It's useful, I guess." He added, feeling himself flush.

"Harry did just about the same, the other day, you know. I was the one that took that picture, and he said I did well. Said you looked less of a prat than usual, but when I turned my back he made a copy just the way you did." Her gaze was knowing, and Draco turned redder. "I saw it in the reflection of the coffee maker, he is about as subtle as you are. I'm glad you didn't just take it, though, I am quite fond of it. You can tell, from your eyes, all the things you feel for that boy. For a while I tried pushing him and Scott together, meddling old woman as I am, but Harry deserves all the love in this world and I wanted to see him happy. They were right though, they work much better as friends. Allie has too much fight in her to settle down, so I never even tried there. I mean, you are all very young and who knows what will change in your lives. And it's none of my damn business, really… but I am glad he has you."

Her eyes traced the images on the wall, a note of melancholy expertly hidden behind her dark lashes, and stopped at a fading picture of a small, blond child. Draco swallowed, unsure of what to say. Little Alice couldn't have been older than 4 in the shot. She was holding a muddly, floppy bunny that had once been white, her face serious.

"How do you do it?" He said, and they both knew what he was asking.

"I don't think it's as much the how as it is the why." She replied, her voice croaking. "I reckon I still have some good to do in this world, and I can't stop just because she hasn't got the chance." She sniffed, grabbing for one of the other pictures just below.

She showed it to Draco, full of pride. Alice was slightly older in that one, sprawled on the floor on her knees in a position that seemed hardly comfortable. She was looking down at the rabbit in her hands, the signs of wear now deeper on its stuffed body. "She almost said "bunny", that day, you know. I wish I could have captured it."

Draco smiled and, after making sure that everybody was still busy with the party, he pointed at his wand. "May I?"

Ellen watched him curiously and nodded.

"Another useful party trick." He said, more confidently than he was feeling. "In our world, we develop film in a potion that reproduces a little bit of the subjects' personality. That's why our pictures move and are basically doing what they wish, to a certain extent. It wouldn't work here, as the picture is already developed, but…"

Draco had learnt this useful little charm from Theo, who had once gotten hold of a "sport" magazine from the Muggle world full of athletic men in underwear. Theo had never cared about the difference between people, as long as they had firm arses. "Bet he was pulling up his boxers in this one." He had told Draco, gleefully, pointing his wand at a page with a young man looking behind his shoulder, fingers hooked on the elastic band of his underwear. The thing that 15 years old found arousing, honestly. Draco remembered his younger self trying to feel disgusted, but the man in the magazine had been indubitably gorgeous and hormones are unpredictable things.

He cleared his throat and murmured the incantation, swishing his wand in a U shape. The picture glowed white and the little girl moved, ten seconds of film on repeat. "It's not much, I know, but it only works for the small window frame the photo was taken in. I suppose that every picture is a little snapshot of a memory, of an action and this charm recreates that action…" He stared down, embarrassed. Alice was moving the toy up and down in her lap, her lips forming silent letters. She stumbled on the Ns a little, tongue poking through her teeth, but the intent was clear enough.

"I-uhm… she looks happy." Draco said, when neither had spoken for a while.

"Well, you are going to make me cry before the time comes, aren't you?" Ellen sniffed, her eyes full of wonder. "You know, I was a little worried, but if magic can do something this beautiful I feel better for letting you two go back. Now, be a good boy and join the others. It's your last night."

And, with a gentle push, she pointed him towards the group. Turning her back to him she quickly headed towards the kitchen and out of sight, the memory of her daughter held closely against her heart.

Draco spared one last, longing gaze at the wall of pictures and pocketed the copy he had made. When he finally resolved to look for Harry in the crowd, he found that the other boy's eyes were already on him.