Notes:

Thank you YetiBettyFoufetti for the beta. 3

Chapter Text

The tiled walls of the café toilet turned on themselves as soon as Harry grabbed him, becoming a blur of blue and white lines. They pressed on Draco from all sides; he could not breathe or think. There was only pain and a familiar rattle behind a lock door.

Walls materialized around him. He almost didn't recognize his bedroom through the fog that had settled over his vision. The nausea was more intense than usual, amplified by the tremors. Harry must have picked up on it because he was gently leading him towards the bed.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, moving some pillows out of the way and lowering Draco on the edge of the bed.

"It's the bloody curse," he answered weakly, even though he knew Harry wasn't asking about that. Resting his shoulder against the wooden hardboard, he closed his eyes until the room stopped spinning.

Harry didn't say anything. At first, Draco was grateful. Then the silence became heavier and heavier. He glanced at Harry on the other side of the room. He'd taken off his coat, dried it with a quick spell and was now staring at his wand, turning it over in his hands. He felt Draco's gaze on him and, as if woken up from a daydream, directed it towards the fireplace. Flames appeared out of nowhere, filling the bedroom with light. Their warmth reached Draco instantly.

"Did anybody hurt you?"

Draco shook his head.

"Did Ulmer say anything to you?"

"No," he exclaimed.

"Then what happened?"

His questions were short and direct. It was Auror-Harry who was speaking, Draco thought stupidly. It somehow compelled him to tell the truth, as if there was magic to his words. "I'm not feeling very well."

"How are you feeling exactly?"

Draco considered Harry's question, turned it over in his head. Took a deep breath. Watched the dance of the flames.

"I used to get these bouts of fear after I was released from prison. For a couple of years. I'm kind of feeling like that again."

"Bouts of fear?"

"My hands get sweaty and I think my heart is going to explode. And sometimes I start shaking."

"What are you scared of exactly?"

"I'm scared I'll go back. Back to prison."

Harry bit his lip, looked out the window. Looked back at him. "Why would you go back to prison, Draco?"

"Oh, I don't know. Because I'm on parole?" He turned towards Harry, putting more force behind his words now that the nausea was gone. "Because one wouldn't need much to build a case against me and have them throw me back. Because-"

"The people who put you in there are not in power anymore and… "

"-I-"

"... the only reason you're still on parole is because you refuse to appeal. I know Hermione's offered to represent you."

Draco sighed, overcome with fatigue once again. Harry wasn't getting it and that somehow made everything so much worse. He buried his head in his hands, wishing for everything to stop.

He heard the floor crackling under Harry's heavy steps. The mattress moved under his weight.

"I'm sorry," he said, removing Draco's hands from his face. "I don't want to fight. I promise I won't interrupt you again." Draco stared at their intertwined hands, then glanced up at Harry. He looked so lovely, even then. He didn't want to fight either, he realized, so he nodded. "Explain to me why you think you'll go back to prison," Harry said.

Despite feeling it so very strongly, Draco found he didn't have a clear answer to Harry's question. Just a vague intuition. He followed it to its logical conclusion. "I'm scared it's where I should have ended up. Where I will end up." Harry squeezed his hands, but remained quiet. "I thought I'd go to Azkaban for what I did. And then I didn't, and I still don't understand why. Why did they let me go?" he said in one breath, terrified by his own words, yet unable to contain them anymore. He shook Harry's hands off. He needed to move, spend some of the energy building up in him. "Did they set me free just to hunt me down? To play with me?"

"Who is they, Draco?"

"I don't know, they! All the people that I've hurt!"

Harry followed him and grabbed his face with both hands, forcing him to look at him. "Nobody's after you-"

Draco puffed indignantly. "You said you'd listen to me."

"I'm trying to-"

"I'm scared, Harry. I'm scared because they're writing in the press about how I almost poisoned Ron and I keep dreaming about it. I keep dreaming about what would have happened if I had, I-"

"Enough," Harry whispered, wrapping his hands around him. "You're only making yourself feel worse."

Draco could feel his heart thumping against Harry's chest. "I almost poisoned Ron," he repeated, and there was a sort of relief in saying it out loud. "I hadn't meant-"

"I know you didn't mean it. Ron knows it too. Nobody cares about that anymore. Enough, Draco."

Draco swallowed. What else could he say? For a while, all he could hear was the sound of his heart.

"Shit. I didn't tell anybody at the office I was leaving. I didn't tell Ron-"

"Don't worry about that."

"I need to go back. Will you drop me off? I must - I was about to write to someone, ask about Cole-"

"No, Draco. You obviously can't go back to work."

"I have to, I didn't tell-"

Harry conjured one of his thickest jumpers. "Here, put this on." Draco looked down at it, confused. Harry strode over and picked up his coat.

"I'll let Ron know we'll take a few days off, alright? Will that make you feel better? I'll be back in five minutes."

"We can't take a few days off in the middle-"

"We can," Harry cut him off. "And we will. This is non-negotiable."

"How are you going to explain this to Ulmer?"

"I'll tell him the truth."

"What truth?"

"That you're not feeling well and I need to take care of you because you're my boyfriend."

Draco opened his mouth to protest but Harry kissed his forehead and then he was gone.

During the fifteen minutes Harry was gone he walked back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen, grabbing things and dropping them off randomly in an attempt to control the panic rising up in him. His apartment felt foreign, his body a prison.

He was throwing away some take out that had gone bad in the fridge when he heard a pop in the bedroom. He rushed out the door. "What did he say?" he asked in one breath.

"Never mind what Ulmer said. He said OK. Here, take this." Harry pushed a vial in Draco's hand. It took Draco a moment to process what it was.

"What are you doing with this?"

"It's for you. I - look, I only bought one. Here's the receipt."

Draco snatched the receipt from Harry's hand and checked the numbers on the back of the vial, then checked to see if it was still unopened.

"You shouldn't have done that," Draco said, walking away from Harry. He emptied the vial in an empty glass on his nightstand and drank it in one gulp. It's what he should have done that morning, he thought bitterly, instead of calling Harry and setting in motion a set of events he couldn't control anymore. What did Harry tell Ulmer? What did Harry believe about what he said? Was it safe to drink that around Harry? Would it trigger him?

Harry entered the bedroom from the hallway holding some towels. Draco had the distinct impression that time had skipped a beat.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm running you a bath. Why is it so cold in here? You haven't turned the heat on since the last time I was here?"

Draco didn't answer. He followed Harry into the ensuite bathroom. The steam rising from the half filled bathtub had fogged up the mirror but he could still see his reflection in it. He hadn't realized how dirty his face and arms were. He must have brushed past the walls in the dungeons.

"Are you better?" Harry asked, cupping his cheek.

Draco could feel the potion starting to take effect. His muscles had relaxed. His heart wasn't thumping and he wasn't fidgety anymore. "Yes. Thank you."

Harry kissed him then nudged him towards the bath.

As he submerged his body in the hot water he thought back to the coldness of the dungeons. He closed his eyes and relived the memory. The potion had stripped it of its affect so he could inspect it carefully, from all angles. A wandless man, going down a staircase full of Dementors, thinking that will somehow solve all his problems. The image made him laugh.

"Well, I'm glad you're having a great time," Harry chuckled. He was kneeling next to the bathtub. He had rolled up his sleeves and was washing Draco's arm with a washcloth. Draco only became aware of it when he saw it. "Why are you so dirty? Where did you go?"

"I went to the dungeons," he said, following Harry's hand as it moved up and down his arm.

Harry stopped briskly. "Why?"

"I wanted to talk to the Dementors." The potion made it so that words slid down his tongue effortlessly.

"Dementors don't talk."

Draco laughed dryly.

"They do to me."

"What do they tell you?" Harry asked, resuming the washing. Draco could tell he didn't believe him. That was fine; better, probably.

"They undo my Occlumency."

"What do you mean?"

"Whatever I hide, they make it come out into the light."

"You can still do Occlumency? Even with the curse?"

Draco laughed. The curse. He also referred to it as that because that's what everybody else called it. "Draco, don't you want to be rid of this curse? Perform magic again?" Hermione would ask when she tried to convince him to let her take on his case. "You and your goddamn curse," Ron would say, acting annoyed everytime Draco asked him to perform a spell for him. " Qu'est ce qu'on va faire avec ta malédiction, Malfoy? " Camille used to tease.

This was the first time Harry'd called it that, because Harry never talked about it. Even with the curse, he'd said. But it was not technically a curse. It was just a cage for his magic. When he side-Apparated, a little bit of that magic managed to get out. Just enough to make him sick and remind him what would happen if he dared to cast a full blown spell. Funnily enough, Occlumency didn't require any of the magic that had been shut in that cage. In fact, Draco was convinced it didn't require any magic at all.

"Yes."

Harry let go of Draco's hand. Unsupported, it fell and splashed water all over Harry's shirt.

"I didn't know that. Did you really go down to the dungeons?" Harry asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Don't worry. I ran away as soon as I felt one of them. The benefits of being a coward are that you run away from dangerous things when you see one. You wouldn't understand."

He glanced at Harry, hoping he'd managed to make him smile. But Harry didn't seem to be in the mood to joke around. "I can't believe you- We'll talk about this later," he decided abruptly, maneuvering Draco around so he could reach the back of his neck. For a while the silence was interrupted only by the sound of the washcloth rubbing against his skin. Harry gently guided Draco back to his initial position.

"Who are you using Occlumency against?" he asked, letting the washcloth fall to the bottom of the tub.

"Myself," Draco said, letting himself slide lower into the water. "Who else?"

"What for?"

"Oh, for all sorts of things. To live with myself. With what I've done." Harry took off his glasses - the lenses were covered with steam - and rubbed his eyes. "To forget about my parents," Draco continued, leaning in and removing Harry's hand. "To forget you."

"Draco…"

Harry rubbed something off Draco's cheek. Draco twisted his head and kissed the back of Harry's hand.

"I wish I could do that too," Harry said all of a sudden, and there was so much sadness in his voice. "I was always useless at Occlumency."

"My darling," Draco answered, closing his eyes, "good people with nothing to hide always are."

The effect of the potion started to wear off after a couple of hours, but the panic didn't come back. They spend the evening dozing off on the sofa. It reminded Draco of the weeks after his divorce where he'd only go to work and then to Harry's place. How it felt like only Harry existed in those moments.

"Thank you. For staying with me today."

"Thank you for calling me."

Draco woke up to the smell of burnt toast and coffee.

"Morning." Harry had a cup in each hand and a tray of food was levitating beside him. "I think this was the first time I got more than three hours of sleep since Cole."

"Me too," Draco answered, accepting the mug of coffee from Harry. "We should go back to the office today though."

"I wanted to take you somewhere today."

Draco took a sip of the coffee. It burnt his tongue. "Where?"

"To Tinworth."

"What's in Tinworth?"

"A gravestone. If you feel up to it."

It was a windless way and the sea seemed petrified. Draco could taste the saltiness in the air.

"Alright to walk?"

Draco nodded. "Whose house is that?" he asked, gesturing towards the nearest cottage.

"Bill and Fleur's. They're not home, but I told them we were passing by."

They set off towards the house. A seagull cried in the distance and the brown grass creaked under their feet. Draco wondered again whose gravestone they would be visiting. He could tell from the way he'd asked that this was important to Harry. Really important. But Harry's parents were buried in Godric's Hollow and he couldn't think of anybody that had lived in that area that might have been close to him.

After ten or so minutes, a small tombstone appeared on the horizon. It looked awkward, all alone against the vastness of the sea. Soon, Draco was able to make out the words.

Here lies Dobby, the free elf

He stopped. Harry's hand found his, nudged him along. "It's alright," he said. As he followed him along the narrow path unease settled over Draco.

Harry kneeled down and started ripping some of the weeds that had grown on the sides of the gravestone. Draco remained standing. He looked around, confused. Why was Dobby buried there? Was he supposed to feel something? Were they going to start fighting again? As he tightened his coat around him, Harry started speaking.

"I met Dobby when I was twelve. He came to my aunt's house."

What continued was a very strange story. The more Harry spoke, the less Draco understood. "What do you mean?" he interrupted eventually. "My father didn't open the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry looked up at him. "He did, Draco. I'm sorry. He did it with a diary that he slipped into Ginny's cauldron."

"With a diary? How?"

"It was a diary that contained part of Voldemort's soul. It possessed Ginny and made her open up the chamber."

"I've never heard of magic that can do that."

There was urgency in Draco's voice, yet Harry didn't seem to be in a hurry to answer. He pulled the stem of a wildflower just to throw it away mindlessly.

"It's called a Hocrux. Have you ever heard of that?"

"No."

Harry looked down at the dry ground. Touched it. Turned towards the sea and slowly lifted himself up. A seagull cried above them.