Many thanks to YetiBettyFoufetti for beta-reading this chapter.

There were empty vials scattered across the bottom of the nightstand drawer. By the foot of the bed he found a Dreamless Sleep bottle, then a couple more assorted Sleeping Potions on the dresser between piles of dirty laundry. They'd all been bought at a little-known shop on the outskirts of London, not frequented by anybody in their circle. He'd seen enough.

"Harry." He sat down next to him and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. His glasses reflected the images cast by the muted TV. Behind them, his eyes remained closed, motionless. Draco shook him harder, with both hands. Eventually, Harry slowly opened his eyes. A wide, sluggish smile appeared on his face as he recognised Draco.

"Hey, you."

"Harry, you ingested a counterfeit potion. We need to -"

With a heavy sigh, Harry rested his head on Draco's chest and put his hands around his waist. "I'm so happy… " he mumbled through the thick fabric of Draco's shirt, "... you're here."

The last of the daylight was slowly petering out. Draco placed an unsteady arm around Harry. "Me too. But we need to go. You need to come with me now."

He didn't resist when he picked him up, nor when he led him out of the apartment and into the taxi parked in front of the building, leaning into him like a drunk date at the end of the night. He let his head fall on Draco's shoulder as soon as he followed him onto the backseat of the car. Draco told the driver the address while Harry searched for his hand. He gave it to him mindlessly, distracted by the driver's complaints about short rides and the lazy people that requested them.

"It's so… " Harry had drawn up Draco's sleeve and was looking at the Dark Mark. As if startled to discover it there, Draco let out a gasp.

"...black," he concluded, his voice uneven. "How could you…" Draco's heart skipped a beat as he watched Harry raise his arm to eye level to get a better look at the tattoo,"... let them do this to you?"

"He's not going to be sick in my car, is he?" the taxi driver scowled, his eyes following them from the rearview mirror.

"He's fine," Draco choked.

"I shouldn't…" Harry said over him, their words overlapping. His fingers traced over the edges of the Mark,"... have let them do this to you. I shouldn't have let anybody hurt you."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's fine," he said. And then, one more time, "he's fine."

"Here, drink this." He had brewed a Vomiting Potion in record time, with ingredients he had laying around. He was not specialized in Healing potions so he hoped it was strong enough for the amount of poison Harry had presumably taken, but not so strong it would render him sick for the rest of the night.

"I don't want it." He was laying on Draco's sectional with his feet propped up, looking at the shadow his fingers cast on the ceiling. Draco kneeled down next to him.

"You have to, Harry. Please."

"No!"

He ultimately got him to drink it after going back and forth for a while. When it looked like he was going to be sick, he led him to the toilet. He waited in front of the door until he heard no more noises coming from inside, then went in. He found him breathing heavily, his head resting on the toilet seat.

"Go away."

"Come. That should have done it," Draco said, offering Harry a hand. Without meeting his eyes Harry eventually accepted it.

He went to pick up his glasses from the bathroom floor. By the time he was back in the sitting room, Harry had curled up into a trembling ball on the edge of the sofa. This was normal, Draco tried to reassure himself, and happened to everybody after puking their guts out.

Unsure how to proceed from there now that Harry was, supposedly, sober again, he took a seat on the opposite side of the sofa and waited. But Harry just stayed like that, resting his forehead on top of his knees, his breathing irregular.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry growled in response.

"Are you hungry?"

"Just leave me alone," he moaned.

"Tell me how you're feeling so I can know what to do to help you."

"You've helped enough."

"Harry, you effectively poisoned yourself with a potion I'm responsible for. What was I supposed to do? I was scared it would interact with the Prozac, too. We don't really know -"

Harry lifted his head instantly. "You looked through my things?"

Having expected this, he was ready. "I was just looking for the potion you took. I didn't mean to pry."

"But you pried."

Draco sighed, the intensity of the day finally catching up with him. "Why did you do that? What could you possibly have to gain from doing that? Is it because of this?" He took out the letter from his inside pocket.

Harry squinted his eyes. When he realized what Draco was holding, he commanded: "Give that to me."

Draco complied, stretching out his hand until it reached Harry's shaky fingers. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I took it."

Harry grabbed it avidly.

"Who is it from?" Draco asked, not expecting an answer. He didn't get one. Instead Harry curled up into a ball again, hiding his eyes from Draco.

Draco continued looking in his direction. Two distinct forces were fighting inside of him. Eventually, one of them won. He stood up, took the two steps it took to reach Harry, then sat down next to him. Without waiting for Harry to push back, or even say anything at all, Draco wrapped his arms around him, gently positioning Harry's head on his chest. They stayed like that for a while. Until Harry's breathing became more regular. Until he stopped shaking.

"My cousin," Harry said, after a long time, so quietly it could have been a gust of wind.

"Your muggle cousin?" he asked, tightening his embrace. He'd heard rumors about Harry growing up with a terrible muggle family, but he didn't know any details.

"Mmmh…"

"Are you expecting bad news?"

"I'm not- … we haven't spoken in years…"

"Why not?"

A long pause preceded his answer. "I don't know."

"Maybe he wants to reconnect…"

"Mmmh…"

Draco reached out and extracted the letter from Harry's firm grip. He examined the penmanship. Harry's work address was written in an uneven, blotchy style.

"What does he do?"

"I've got no idea."

"You don't want to read it?"

Harry remained silent. Draco couldn't see his face, only the top of his head. He considered the letter in his hand.

"Wait here." He came back one minute later holding a small wooden frame. He saw the surprise in Harry's eyes when he realized what it was.

"What are you doing with that?"

"I just think it's funny, isn't it? You gave me a letter I never read, and now here you are, with a letter that you don't want to read." Harry continued staring at him. "So let's read them together."

Harry let out a pained chuckle.

"You really want to read that? After all this time?"

"Why not? I have to, at some point."

The sound of a car rushing through the empty boulevard below Draco's apartment interrupted the silence that had fallen.

"Alright."

"Do you want to go first?"

Harry shook his head. Draco carefully removed the back of the frame and exposed the yellowing envelope. Throwing a glance at Harry, who was following his every movement, he picked it up. He considered going to look for a paper knife but decided against it, just used his finger to break it open. He turned it over in his hands and looked at his mother's beautiful handwriting. For Draco had been the last words of hers he had read for such a long time. He thought he'd made his peace with that. Suddenly overcome with the reality of what he was about to do, he pushed the envelope into Harry's hands.

"You do it."

"You want… you want me to read it?"

"If you want."

Harry hesitated before grabbing it. "Alright. Er…" he felt around on the sofa until he found his glasses, then took the letter out of the envelope, unfolded it and studied its contents.

"What is it?" Draco inquired in a panic when Harry wouldn't start reading. His hands were sweaty, he felt hot all of a sudden.

"Nothing. It's just…" he put down the letter and looked at him. "Are you sure?"

Aware of how stiff he had become, he took a deep breath and let his head fall on the back of the sofa. He turned his head and met Harry's eyes. They were red and swollen, like he'd just come out of a fever, but they were also fierce. As if Draco had challenged him and Harry would not be the first to blink.

"Yes."

Harry nodded. He cleared his throat. "My dearest son… I write this letter with my last remaining force." His cadence was off, but he soon found the rhythm of her words. " It will not be long before I lose the little I have left. My sanity. My memories. It's hard to concentrate with these goddamn creatures around. I'd heard stories about this place. I thought I knew what to expect, but reality is nothing like a story. Year after year I feel myself becoming less and less. I wake up from a nightmare only to realize I've entered yet another one. Here nightmares are not contained to the night. They stretch into the day. They stretch and they stretch until they've taken hold of everything. I managed to bribe a guard for a piece of parchment and a quill to try to put to paper my thoughts before there are no more thoughts to be put down. I'd never thought I'd pay such a steep price for a quill, but here I am. I'd never thought I'd be able to live through two years with no news of you, my son. But here I am."

Harry stopped. Draco nodded to him to go on, his throat too tight to speak.

"Please know that I think about you everyday. When I can think, it's only you I think about. Every day I remember you, and it gives me the strength to open my eyes one more time. My favorite memory, the one I save for the hardest days, is your eleventh birthday. Do you still remember it as vividly as I do? The horrible summer storm that took us by surprise during our picnic? The fire we lit in the middle of July? How good it was, to be inside with you and your father while the whole world outside was being ripped apart? How good it was, to hold you under my arm, to tell you I love you, to have you close to me. To know you are safe, and you are well, and you are loved."

He looked away from Harry, who was glancing at him in between each sentence, and turned towards the big window overlooking the street. A solitary man was crossing the road.

"If heaven exists then heaven must be that day, never ending. Wherever you are, I hope you are happy. It's the only hope that I have left. I'm almost out of ink and there are so many things I still wish to tell you. I apologize, my love, for not being stronger. But time erodes all things and will is no exception. I hope one day, when you have left all of this behind, you will forgive me. You will forgive us. Finally, I need to speak about your father. I know you will always blame him for everything and I know you have many reasons to do so. But if you must remember one thing about him, remember that he loved us. That he loved you. He did his best, as we all did. We may have made mistakes - horrible mistakes - but we can go in peace knowing that we did do one good thing: we made and we raised you. Forever yours, Mother…"

"Jesus," was all Draco could utter. "Jesus."

He took the letter from Harry and read it again, stopping from time to time to linger over certain passages. He could hear his mother's voice, the way she always stressed certain words but not others.

He wiped his tears and put the letter back in its envelope.

"Well, at least it's done." Harry was biting his nails, watching him from the edge of the sofa. "Your turn now."

Harry pushed the second letter towards Draco, like a card in a casino.

"I don't have to read it, unless you -"

"No, you read it."

Draco took a deep breath, his mind still filled with memories of his parents. "As you wish…" he unfolded the letter. " Dear Harry… "

It took him a minute to get accustomed to the way Dudeley rounded his letters.

"Sorry… Dear Harry, how are you? I imagine you are quite surprised to receive this letter. I've wanted to write to you for a long time, but I didn't know where to find you. I tried everything and nearly gave up, thinking maybe you'd left the country. However, yesterday I saw a man on the street wearing a green robe and I told myself: this here is a wizard. And sure enough, he'd heard about you and knew where you worked."

Draco stopped reading to process this information. He glanced at Harry, who seemed horror struck. He continued:

"I'm a manager at a paper company. I quite like it, but I'm sure it doesn't compare to working at the ministry like you! I don't know what you do, but I'm sure it must be more important than selling paper. At least it pays well, which is important now that I am a father. Victor was born three years ago, on the 10th of July, and he is the light of my life. Watching him grow has been the most amazing thing that has happened to me. I don't know if you have children, but it changes you. From one day to the next, you realize your whole life has a meaning now. You see things differently. I stayed home for the first few months of Victor's life because my wife, Linda, was sick and she needed help. So I had a lot of time to think back to my own childhood. To our childhood, I suppose. I had the time to really- "

"Stop."

Draco looked at Harry. He had crawled back to the edge of the sofa, like a scared animal. "No more."

"Hey," Draco said, reaching for him. But Harry pushed away his hand.

"Can you take me home?"

"You can sleep here, I have a spare room-"

"I want to go home."

Draco bit his lip.

"Harry, I don't feel comfortable letting you be alone right now. If you want, I can call Ron."

This made Harry stand up abruptly.

"No. Draco, you have to promise me that this stays between us. You can't tell anybody about it. Especially not Ron or Hermione."

Draco stood up as well, taken aback by the force with which he reacted.

"OK, I promise. But you stay here tonight."

"Alright. Where's the spare room?"

Draco pointed to the hallway. "The first door on the left. But Harry -"

He watched as Harry strode across the room. He still had Dudley's letter in his hand. He knew he shouldn't. But he couldn't help it.

I had the time to really think back to how Mother and Father treated you. They refuse to talk about it, even to this day. It's gotten to the point where I don't even go visit them anymore. They're not allowed to see Victor either. If they could do that to you just because they were cross with your parents, who knows what they could do to Viktor if one day they become cross with me? I'm sorry if maybe you didn't want me to, but I've talked a lot with Linda about it. She couldn't believe it at first since she got on so well with Mother. I will never forget how shocked she was when she found out she made you sleep in the cupboard under the stairs and cook all of our meals for us.

Draco let the letter fall down on the coffee table as if it suddenly burnt through his skin.

When he picked up his phone he saw he had five missed calls from Camille. He ignored them and dialed Ron's number. Something he should have done the moment he stepped foot in Harry's apartment he was starting to realize.