WARNINGS for this chapter: Sex in a flashback. Nothing graphic.

Chapter 18: As if it didn't happen

Kingsley kept his promise. Narcissa was transferred to St Mungo's the next day, and the following weeks were marked with the most intense correspondence Harry had ever maintained. Douglas and Glynnis were on a daily shuttle service between Hogwarts, St Mungo's and the Ministry, with the result that Narcissa's transfer back to Azkaban was cancelled twice. Whatever they had tried, neither Harry, nor Draco, nor Mr Knox had been allowed to visit her in the hospital, though they had managed to send her a letter. So far they had no evidence of receipt, but they did have a weak hope for some news to arrive with Knox, who was just back from London with a heap of papers. The Hogsmeade Saturday was drawing to a close, and they sat in the corner of the Three Broomsticks piecing together the situation.

With a look of complete incomprehension Draco stared at the St Mungo's report.

"But— but it says here clearly that she suffered lasting damage!"

"That was also my interpretation, Mr Potter," Knox brushed his napkin over a stain of wine on the table, "but what it literally says is that the reinstatement of the patient's soul will not result in a fit identical to that before the injury. I spent two hours explaining to Ogden that that was the very definition of lasting damage, and even got him so far that he sent me back to St Mungo's for clarification—"

"What did they say?" Harry asked.

"Basically," Knox sighed, "that different doesn't mean worse. And that as far as they can see, Mrs Malfoy's soul is safer inside now than it had ever been." Knox pushed aside his empty glass. "The only thing we can do now, is to act as if I had never gone back to St Mungo's, and try the same rhetoric as before on the Minister. But most probably, he will send me back to Ogden, and he will want to hear the message from St Mungo's, which he'd better not."

"Why don't you give it a try?"

"Sure, Mr Malfoy. I will." Knox gave a minuscule bow with his head.

"But— but— what— if this—" Draco was failing miserably to produce a coherent sentence.

"If this is not 'lasting damage', what is?" Knox said.

"Yes."

"The only precedent I know of, when a convict was released from Azkaban on the account of lasting mental damage defeating the purpose of further incarceration, was a case of permanent total obliviation. The individual in question did not remember his name, had no knowledge of ever committing a crime, and was free from any antisocial disposition. The rationale being that you don't imprison an infant who has just learnt how to smile. This is obviously not Mrs Malfoy's case."

Draco buried his face in his hands.

"Obviously?" Harry did not see what was so obvious about it. "How does she actually feel? Did they ask her?"

"I don't know, but," Knox went for his pocket, "they did let her write a letter." He produced a roll of parchment and handed it to Harry. "Perhaps, you can make your own impression."

Finally. Harry unrolled the letter and Draco zapped to his side. Harry had to crane to see the lines over a heap of black hair, and at the best of times had no idea where to put his left arm. Around Draco's shoulders would go a bit too far. Harry stuck it behind his back and concentrated on the letter.

He wasn't sure it would count as comforting in the present circumstances, but it certainly didn't read like lasting mental damage. Harry could almost see the wrinkle under Narcissa's nose when he skimmed over her report of the hospital food. It didn't look like the return to Azkaban could be postponed much longer.

The letter travelled into Draco's hands, and he was rereading it a second time when Harry indulged in another sip of butterbeer. Knox eyed them with a poker face.

"Should I know something so I can better represent your interests?" His eyes jumped from Harry to Draco and back, as if their interests were equally important.

"Er."

"What?" Draco took his eyes off the letter.

Knox peered at his blank face.

"Never mind."

Since the meeting in Hogsmeade, Draco had virtually disappeared. Harry saw him in class, and only briefly during meals, after which Draco always managed to slip away, and Harry never got a chance to raise the subject of the stolen memories. It was only thanks to his regular scrutiny of the Marauder's Map for the whereabouts of Vaisey that Harry knew that Draco was spending lots of time on the shores of the Black Lake. He had probably taken to fishing, Harry thought, knowing Draco's weakness for seafood. If that helped him cope...

Harry was holding the map in the dim light of a torch. It teemed with little dots swarming about the Castle. Ewen Arling was still in the North Tower, with Parvati and Professor Benveniste. His dot would soon start moving towards the Grand Staircase and up to the seventh floor, for their usual dancing appointment.

Harry checked his route. The coast was clear. Vaisey was hanging around in the dungeons. Their paths would not cross.

"Mischief Ma—!"

Harry's first impulse was to wipe his glasses, but his fingers closed on his unadorned temple. Something was very odd about Vaisey's appearance on the map. Under the tiny flag with his name, there was not just one dot, but two.

The dots started moving, but they were moving with different speed. The flag with Vaisey's name stayed attached to one of them. The other dot overtook him, turned around the corner, and crossed what Harry remembered was a solid wall. No matter how hard he stared at it, the dot remained nameless. Now, that was something completely new in the Map's repertoire.

Harry felt tempted to rush down to the dungeons and catch up with whoever that might be. But the dot took a course Harry couldn't possibly follow—it moved not only across but also inside walls until it vanished where Harry could swear there was neither an exit to the outside world nor an entrance to the Room of Requirement. Perhaps there was more to Hogwarts the Marauders had managed to map.

"Mischief Managed!" Harry said after staring at the spot for another minute and finally acknowledging that the dot was gone for good. 'Mischief failed' would have been more appropriate.

As usual, he saw Ewen one flight down give a high five to Parvati. Was he imagining it, or did Parvati look particularly happy today, and Ewen particularly proud?

Professor Benveniste walked past and headed upstairs. A second later Ewen stood at his side. Before they could say 'Hi', Charnay approached in a determined stride, peering up the stairwell.

"Professor Benvenist'!"

"Professor de Charnay!" Ewen said and cleared his throat.

Charnay's face made it very clear that Ewen had chosen the worst possible moment to address him.

"It's Benvenis-tea," said Ewen, his voice down.

Charnay's expression changed instantly.

"Five points to Hufflepuff," he said and continued his pursuit. "Rebecca!" he called into the space above him.

Ewen turned to Harry and shrugged.

"He'd better pronounce her name right if he wants to ask her for the Yule Ball."

"How do you know he wants to ask her for the Yule Ball?"

"Oh, just, intuition," replied Ewen, as they started their climb upstairs.

Harry did not want to think about the Yule Ball. There was barely a month left, and he had not come a step closer to securing a date. He had certainly managed to push his self-confidence somewhat, as far as his dancing technique was concerned, although it was hardly his own achievement. Malfoy's muscles would just strain and relax at exactly the right moment, as if they were a mere extension of Ewen's body, and with every inch of his skin Harry could feel the perfect fit between them and the space around.

Harry wondered though, how this dancing practice would be of any use to him with an actual girl. There was only one way for this to work. This had to be a girl who, first, could dance, and, second, would take the lead in the most uncompromising way. The latter requirement disqualified Astoria Greengrass. As much as he, sort of, liked her, and as much as she seemed not entirely repelled by him, Astoria totally lacked initiative. If left to making her own decisions, she could spend an hour choosing between cheese, jam, and scrambled egg and be late for morning class. Luckily, she had recently joined Sabrin Gibbon's fan club and now let herself be influenced by Sabrin's strong opinions.

Sabrin, of course, was a completely different story. She was the boss, in everything, and this would definitely extend to dancing. Harry had briefly considered asking her. But he was eighteen, and she was like, twelve? He quickly dismissed the idea.

In the meantime they arrived at the seventh floor. Ewen sank through the door that had barely materialised as they approached. When Harry entered after him, two firecrackers exploded above their heads, sending sparkles in all colours around them, and the words 'Happy birthday!' shone in the air.

"I'm eighteen today." Ewen chuckled. "Hey, Room! Thank you!" he shouted into space, and another firecracker went off above them.

"Happy birthday!" Harry almost added 'I wish I had known', but stopped. Should Draco actually have known?

Fireworks was not the only surprise the Room had prepared for the occasion. On the side of the vast dance floor, next to the fireplace, there stood a sofa and a small table with a plate of biscuits, a dusty bottle, and two glasses next to it.

"This must be from Trelawney's secret sherry supplies," Harry said, examining the bottle.

"I don't even dare guess where these are from." Ewen said, listening to the clatter of fossilised biscuits, as he shook the plate. "Or when."

But before they got drunk, Ewen asked for a dance. The urgent rhythm of a bandoneon sounded from the old gramophone the Room had dug up for them from what was definitely not its top layer of junk, and Ewen pulled Harry back to his feet.

When the waltz had become a bit of a routine, Ewen had started experimenting with other dances, and finally talked Harry into trying some Argentine tango. Sceptical at first, Harry had got the hang of it in a couple of sessions and was now starting to enjoy himself almost as much as Ewen.

"My job is to hold you tight. Your job is to walk around me as if we haven't been introduced," Ewen said, and that was essentially it.

Harry's hip brushed Ewen's as he led him around the sofa. He swirled him one last time to the last notes of the song, and Harry landed on the cushions that smelled like number twelve Grimmauld Place before the Order of the Phoenix's power-wash.

"Have you found a date yet? For the Yule Ball?" Ewen asked, uncorking the sherry.

"No. You?" Harry watched Ewen pour the murky liquid into the glasses. "You could ask Parvati. I think she likes you."

Ewen's face twisted as he took a sip. "This is undrinkable!" He pulled his wand. "What was the spell again? For turning it into wine?"

"That was for turning vinegar into wine."

"This is not a far cry from vinegar."

Harry had never mastered that charm properly. He tried transfiguring the contents of his glass but ended up with a chunk of ice. Ewen's try produced a much more convincing result, the liquid turned from murky amber to golden.

"Urgh! Sweet!" Ewen almost spat it out.

It took a few more rounds of charming, until Ewen was satisfied with the outcome. The drink they ended up with was more like grape juice, but they crushed Harry's ice into it and declared it drinkable.

"So, how about Parvati?"

"What about Parvati?"

"Parvati for the Yule Ball? She deserves a better partner than last time."

"Who did she go with?" Ewen frowned, but just as he took another sip of their transfigured sherry, his eyes widened, and he almost spat it out again. "Oh no! She went with Potter!" He fell back against the cushions and covered his face with his hand. "He should work for a moving company, you know. The way he moves, I'd totally trust him with my sofa."

The way he used to move. If Ewen only knew.

"Anyway, isn't he going with Ginny Weasley? Bad luck for Ginevra, but Parvati is safe, I suppose."

To his shame, Harry was not informed about Malfoy's plans for the Yule Ball at all. In contrast, Ewen was always up-to-date on all the school gossip, so Harry had no reason to doubt this piece of news. He felt a painful sting in his chest and his finger nails dug into his palms.

"Speaking of Potter, I had the honour of meeting him. In the Divination class." Ewen glanced at him in an oddly mischievous way. "Can you believe it? After all these years, finally, I met Harry Potter!"

"And, what do you think?" Harry asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know it. What he did want to know was what the hell Malfoy was doing with Ginny.

"He's cool. I mean, he's Harry Potter! Right?" Ewen looked at Harry again, as if he waited for something. "I thought he would be more arrogant, but he's all right. Fun to talk to, intelligent." He refilled Harry's glass and gave him another interested look. "Not unlike you in certain ways. I can't place it, but you have a lot in common."

Harry Potter was a dangerous subject, but before Harry could do anything about it, Ewen spoke again.

"In Divination, we are extracting memories now, and he asked a great question in class last time. Whether it was possible for a person to have two contradicting memories at the same time. Like if you extract a memory, then modify it, and then give it back to the same person." Ewen climbed with his feet on the sofa and was sitting cross-legged, facing Harry. "Of course, the straightforward answer is 'no', but I've been thinking about it. For a really good Occlumens, like you, theoretically, it should be possible. If you store those memories in different compartments of yourself."

Draco was apparently not completely uninterested in memories and ways to play foul with them. That, at least, was good news, thinking of the four vials borrowed from the Ministry Archive. But the direction of Ewen's thought...

"I wonder what it's like, to remember the same thing in two opposite ways. Should we try?"

"You extract memories in Divination?" Harry hurried to steer the conversation in a safer direction. "You are actually learning useful stuff there! I always thought the subject was completely useless. Not for you, of course. But for normal people like me." He set his empty glass on the table. "But what does messing with memories have to do with Divination?"

"Well, you're right. It is actually a charm, but Flitwick never manages to cover it in his classes, and extracting memories is something seers do a lot, to archive their prophecies. So Benveniste offered to teach it. Flitwick is happy, and Benveniste has something to offer both to seers and to non-seers."

Ewen set his feet on the floor again, took his wand and was trying to turn the biscuits into something edible.

"Oh." He chuckled. "When we were practising, Potter made a complete fool of himself." For a second, some of the biscuits transfigured into a small heap of sliced red radishes but failed to stabilise in that state. Another second later, they turned into what they really were—a mixture of gravel and sand.

"We first had to extract a memory of something that had happened recently. He did great, pulled something out about a potions class a week ago. Fine! Then we had to share an older memory, something of a year ago or so, and he just kept pulling the same thing, and when I offered help, he just blacked out."

"I bet he has more to hide than you think," Harry said, inwardly giving credit to Draco's tactical thinking. "Must be worried his heroic deeds won't look heroic enough, if you see what really happened."

"Come on! He could have chosen something harmless, like brushing his teeth in the morning, or something."

"M— Potter has no harmless memories, I'm sure," Harry said with as much loathing in his voice as he could muster. "I'm not even sure he brushes his teeth," he added for more credibility.

"You're not jealous, are you?" Ewen looked amused.

"Jealous of what?"

Ewen stared at him like Snape had in their Occlumency classes. It was not the first time he'd been doing this, and Harry had been wondering how long it would take him to figure out that he was not Draco. But Ewen had shown no signs of recognition so far. This time, Harry did not even try to block him off. For once, he had the feeling that he had absolutely nothing to hide. Whatever it was Ewen was trying to get at was simply not there.

"Remember that 'Potter stinks' badge you gave me back then?" Ewen added inconsequentially. "I still have it."

"But if most of us have no 'inner eye'," Harry tried to change the subject again, "how much sense does it make to teach Divination at school? Why don't we just call it 'Cognitive Charms' or something? Aren't you the only seer at Hogwarts, anyway?"

"Well, I'm certainly the most powerful seer at Hogwarts," Ewen said matter-of-factly, "But I'm not the only one, no. Parvati for instance! She's great! She absolutely has it in her, but—" Ewen became agitated suddenly. "I was lucky. Benveniste basically brought me up. But Parvati, she could have been as good as I am by now! But she never will be, because she's missed out on proper training. That's so unfair! It's for people like Parvati that Divination should be taught at school."

Ewen leaned back onto the cushions with a sad face.

"And now, she first has to unlearn all the nonsense Trelawney had filled her up with, and learn the real thing. We give her private lessons, you know."

"'We'?"

"Benveniste does, and I assist."

They fell silent. The mention of Parvati reminded Harry of the Yule Ball. Ewen must have read his thoughts.

"You know, Draco, it's been a lot of fun practising with you."

"I've enjoyed it a lot, too." Harry wondered what was coming. Ewen had been avoiding his question about his date. Now he was about to announce that he had one after all, and Harry's services as a practice partner were no longer needed.

"Concerning the Yule Ball..."

A gust of cool breeze blew inside Harry's chest, as if a rain cloud pulled past.

"Have you found a date?" he asked, a bit too quickly. Fifty Galleons it was Parvati.

"No, I was thinking..." Ewen looked up from his knees and met Harry's eye. The fireplace cracked and the orange sparkle trembled in his pupils. "Would you like to come to the Yule Ball with me?"

Oh.

"Isn't it a bit... unconventional?"

"It sure is." A smile returned to Ewen's face, but faded again, before Harry could come up with an answer.

"Draco, what's wrong? I'm looking at you and I can't see you. I wish I knew why you're making yourself so inaccessible. You will have your reasons, but"—Ewen squeezed his shoulder and held it tight as if he was worried that he would run away while he was speaking—"if it's because I couldn't help you, I'm sorry!"

Harry stared at Ewen. They were not on the same page, and badly so.

"I'm really sorry! It must have been terrible for you. But now it's over! The war is over! It's a completely new life. Stop shutting me out! I even thought—" Ewen's voice changed to a trembling whisper. "I thought we could give it another try."

"Give what another try?" Harry said before he could stop himself.

Ewen looked at him, but this time not like he was reading his mind, but like he was fed up with it.

"Draco, seriously. Why are you doing this?" He let go of Harry's shoulder, and his face flashed with bitter anger. "You can— you can—" he was back on his feet, "but you can't just act as if it didn't happen!" And he stormed across the dance floor and out of the Room.

Harry kept his eye on Draco all the way through the dinner, and when the rows of Gryffindors started to thin out, but Draco was still lingering with Ron and Hermione at the table, Harry crossed the Great Hall, and dropped onto the bench in front of him.

"We need to talk."

"Wrong table, Malfoy." Ron towered above him.

"It's okay," Draco said softly. "We do need to talk."

Ron shot a deadly look at Harry, but Hermione pulled him gently by the elbow, Ron stumbled over his own foot, and followed her with a subdued growl.

"Yes?" Draco said, when Ron and Hermione disappeared from view.

Two younger girls were eyeing them curiously from a distance that might still count as within earshot, especially if curiosity was really pressing.

"Not here."

The first two classrooms were already taken, but the third one was empty. Draco sat on the windowsill leaning against the frame, the dark landscape of the Black Lake behind his back. Harry perched on a table near the window and lit his wand. Draco's face shone yellow and the window sank into complete blackness.

"What is it, Potter? Such urgency."

"I had dance practice with Ewen Arling today."

Draco's eyebrows rose.

"You're still practising? He hasn't lost his patience with you yet?"

"No." Another time Harry would have told him that he in fact had made enormous progress, but this was not what he came here for. "You did not tell me everything about you two."

Draco did not stir.

"Why is he shouting at me that I should not pretend that 'it' did not happen? What happened? What am I supposed to remember?"

Draco swallowed, but continued staring.

"And he is telling me we should have another try. Another try at what?"

Draco swallowed again. His face froze in a mien of wary bewilderment, his eyes fixed on Harry, until he finally exhaled a load of stalled breath.

"Two years ago, Ewen and I, we had," he did as if he searched for the word, "an affair."

"A love affair?"

"Yes," he looked intently at Harry, not in a hurry to continue.

"Okay! Good to know it! Thanks for telling me!" Harry was back on his feet and expressed his righteous anger by pacing back and forth. "Now that I'm you, don't you think I should have known earlier? Why didn't you tell me when I first told you that we were going to practise?"

"I hoped the issue would not come up."

"You hoped the issue would not come up?! How naive are you, Malfoy? Your ex-lover asks me to dance with him, of all things, and you hope the issue—"

"I thought you would drop this whole stupid plan after the first time," Draco interrupted. "But since you, by some unfathomable miracle, didn't, well... How naive are you, Potter? A bloke asks you to teach him to dance, sees in the first five minutes that you can't tell your right foot from your left one, and doesn't send you back to the manufacturer? And you don't even suspect ulterior motives? How naive are you?"

That stung. Harry had sincerely believed that Ewen kept practising with him because he enjoyed it, and not just because... Ewen did enjoy it, damn it, whatever Malfoy was trying to make it look like. And if his lack of experience made him miss some undertones, well.

"You wanted me to play along with this ridiculous role play! You want me to be a convincing Malfoy? Then make sure to take away my innocence to an acceptable degree!"

"You didn't tell me everything either. The whole thing with Ginny, I had to figure it out by myself, from scratch!"

"Ginny?" So it was Ginny now. Harry gritted his teeth. Last time they had talked about her, Malfoy had called her Ginevra. "You've figured it out with her, haven't you? Going to the Yule Ball together, I hear."

"Yes! We're going to the Yule Ball, and I'm gay! What else do you need to know?"

Harry had stopped pacing and was standing in front of Draco, his arms down. The light at the tip of his wand illuminated his shoes and cracks in the floor.

"You should have told me about Ewen. Now he's hurt. He didn't deserve it."

Draco sighed, turned to the window, blew a large circle of damp onto the cold glass and started drawing bizarre patterns with his finger. Harry climbed onto the windowsill, and sat in front of him, leaning at the opposite side of the frame.

"So, tell me more about your affair."

"I've told you half of it already. One day he just appeared out of nowhere at my side, and asked me to teach him to dance. I was curious, I liked him, so I agreed."

"Okay, this part sounds familiar."

"And I told you, he's a seer. So, I guess, he just 'looked into the depths of mine unsettled soul' and saw it all plain. One day, it was almost the end of the term, he came to me and said that he knew it was all a lie, that I was just putting on a show with Parkinson for my father, that I was gay, and that he was gay, and that he was in love with me."

"Were you in love with him, too?"

"The same evening I got an owl that my father was arrested at the Department of Mysteries."

"Okay. And then?"

"We didn't write. Over the summer I had other things on my mind, as you can probably imagine. My father got a life sentence for the Unforgivable Curse. And I got that." Draco pointed at Harry's left arm. "And a task, I don't have to explain that part to you, do I?"

"Okay. And Ewen?"

"Well. When we came back to Hogwarts, I was in the Room of Hidden Things one day, giving the Vanishing Cabinet a first try, and he just walked in on me."

"And?"

"I leave that part to your imagination!"

"How close did you get?" Harry asked. "You can spare the details, just give me the rough gist."

Draco heaved a deep exasperated sigh.

"When we entered the Room of Hidden Things, on some occasions we may or may not have found a bed." Draco peered into the darkness behind the window again, his smirk turned slowly into a smile. "One time," he chuckled, "we even found a huge bathtub with a hot scented bath. A fine piece of magic, that room is!"

Harry tried not to imagine what exactly happened in that bath.

"I was watching you at the time. I thought you were up to something. But you were always flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. How did you—?"

"Don't forget, Ewen is basically invisible. They were standing guard while Ewen and I were— He sneaked past them and they had no clue." Draco's smirk was back again. "Remember that one time, when you and Granger were at Slughorn's party and Filch caught me? I was actually with Ewen that evening, but Crabbe and Goyle weren't watching. So, just when we got out of the Room there was Filch. And Ewen, he just dissolved in thin air, and I got the full load. Oh no, that was terrible!" Draco buried his face in his raised knees.

"What did Ewen know about your task?"

Draco raised his head.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. He's a seer."

"So what? It's not like they see everything. They need to know what to look for."

"He knew you were a Death Eater."

"No!"

"He must have seen large parts of your skin."

"You will be surprised, Potter, how much fun you can have without taking off your clothes."

"Are you telling me that you jumped into that 'scented bath' with your school robes and everything?"

Loose lips sink ships. Draco cursed silently but violently.

Of course, he knew. He knew it even before he knew it. The memory of the crispy citrus scent tickled the inside of Draco's nose. The smell—that was the first thing he perceived when they entered the Room that evening. When the large stone basin filled with steaming water came into view, Ewen uttered a happy 'Yoo-hoo!', stripped himself naked in a matter of seconds and plunged into the water.

Draco stood there transfixed, looking at the place where Ewen had just been standing. He had never seen that much of him at once, and the glimpse he had just caught was entrancing.

"Come on, Draco. Get undressed and come here. This is so lovely!" Ewen submerged under the glistening surface and reappeared again, his wet hair sticking to his skull, drops pearling on his eyelashes.

Draco came closer to the basin and could now see Ewen's body in its entirety, slightly distorted by the small waves. The line where the water met the air snaked over Ewen's nipples, coating the smooth skin with transparent shine. His arms rested on the edge of the basin, his muscles came out sharper this way. Draco could not join him, but he could look at him like this for hours.

As if he knew it, or because he knew it, Ewen let his arm sink into the water and traced the inner side of his thigh with his hand, over a dark birthmark that danced under the waving veil, and further up, until his long fingers settled and he started to stroke himself.

Draco felt his blood rush, as if it was him Ewen was touching. He pressed his eyes shut, but the moment he was not looking, he heard movement in the water, and a second later felt his robes soak with warmth, Ewen's wet hands grasping his buttocks and pulling him towards the basin.

"Come." Ewen was on his knees in front of him, when Draco opened his eyes, "Come. Take this off," and he buried his nose in the folds of his robes.

"Stop it, Ewen."

Ewen's hands squeezed his buttocks.

"I know what you're hiding. You don't need to hide it from me."

Draco could barely take it. His whole body screamed yes, but it was a yes to jumping into an abyss. By an act of supernatural willpower, Draco managed to kick both his panic and his desire behind an inner wall, and to cling to a compartment of his mind that had not lost control yet.

"Arling, stop it!" he said firmly and freed himself from Ewen's grip.

Ewen leaned back again, relaxed against the side of the basin, showing his body in its full splendour.

"It's okay, Draco. Death Eaters are human, too. Death Eaters—"

"SHUT UP!"

"—need lovers, too."

A snap, and the tip of Draco's wand sank into Ewen's bare chest. Ewen blinked at the wand and lost another big drop from his eyelash.

"If you need to kill me, I won't take it personally," he whispered. "But first let's have a bath. I want to see you naked before I die."

The inner wall trembled and cracked, and fear seeped into Draco's soul again, and with it a desperate call of his body to fulfil its last wish. This folly would cost him his life, but it felt like a fair deal at that moment.

Draco's wand clattered rolling over the stone floor. His robes fell next to it. In the next moment, his Dark Mark was pressing gently against Ewen's shoulder. Their bodies slid against each other, their limbs tangled, and the warm water responded with soft waves to their movements. One hell of a fair deal.

The towel rubbed against Draco's back, as he was trying to grasp the significance of what had just happened. Ewen was still lingering in the water, dizzy and happy. Draco was about to get back into his clothes, when Ewen rose, pulling a layer of water up with him, and let it crash back into the pool with a loud splash. He swung his legs over the edge of the basin. Next moment he was holding Draco in his arms, all his drying efforts undone. Draco wrapped the towel around him.

"Do you support our cause?"

"No," replied Ewen "I'm just in love with you. Am I a dead man?"

"Sooner or later. But so am I."

"Let's make it later. Let's try!" Ewen pressed his whole body against Draco, and it felt like their skin melted. They were still one.

'Dreamer,' Draco thought, and continued wiping Ewen's back and shoulders.

"Keep your mouth and your brain shut," he said, "and you might last a week longer."

Draco got Ewen all dry and dressed, and it was about time to get on with his work, but Ewen was not leaving.

"You might also be able to somewhat boost our life expectancy—"

"Let's have a look at—"

"—if you leave now."

"—that Vanishing Cabinet, shall we?"

NO! It didn't happen! That didn't happen. Ewen didn't— Draco slammed the door behind that memory. Ewen's face, the stone basin and the citrus scent vanished, but his heart was still pounding. He gathered all his courage to open his eyes, to realise that it was only Potter, not an Ex-Unspeakable in the Ministry dungeon.

Draco breathed deeply and counted to ten.

"Besides," continued Harry, "he must have known what you were doing there, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to walk in on you." Seeing how Draco had been struggling to subdue his panic, he had no doubts about Ewen. As Draco's accomplice he might get away with a probation, but the road to the Auror Office, or to Mysteries, would be closed for him, forever. Harry did not wish it for him, but he wanted Malfoy to know that he was on to it. "That's how the Room works. You know how many times I tried to walk in on you while you were repairing that Vanishing Cabinet? No chance! Ewen must have had a fairly clear idea of what you were after."

Draco smirked.

"If he knew anything, he didn't show it. And for the rest, he did a pretty good job at distracting me from it. That's why I had to break up with him. He was becoming a liability."

"When did you break up?"

"Shortly after Yule. Way before the project got anywhere."

"And then?"

"Nothing. That's it."

"And now?"

"What now?"

"Do you want to give it another try?"

"How?! He deserves better than this!" Draco threw an exasperated glance at his legs and torso. But then his face changed. He checked Harry out with his gaze from top to foot. "How about you, Potter? Your heroism combined with my exceptional beauty. Isn't it a fantastic package deal?"

"It's a temporary one, or so I hope. And then again, I'm not—"

"You know," Draco interrupted, "if it's annoying, just tell him. Say no. We broke up. You don't have to explain anything." He took a breath to say something else but stopped. He wiped away his drawings on the window and peered into the darkness again. "But tell him that I remember, okay? Please, tell him... that I remember."

Next morning Harry scanned the Hufflepuff table, but His Grace made himself invisible again. Harry checked the Marauder's Map every time he could find a secluded corner, but Ewen was always somewhere else, mixed with a crowd of students, and by the time Harry arrived there, he could see nothing but the crowd and could not even be sure Ewen was still there.

Harry stalked Parvati in the breaks until she started throwing weird looks at him, and spent the late afternoon patrolling the entrance to the North Tower. He was sure he sensed Ewen's presence a couple of times, but Ewen kept his visual image to himself. Only when Harry started getting desperate and swearing up a storm in his mind, did Ewen finally materialise in front of him.

"Yes?"

"Er." Harry's frustration in the last few hours made him forget all the words he had carefully chosen in the morning. "I— I'm sorry."

"You should be! You've just thought I was a— what was it? Ghoulfucking demiguise?" Ewen crossed his arms.

"No, not about that. I mean, I'm also sorry about that," Harry put in hastily, "though you have been hiding from me all day!" Harry could not help adding in his defence. "Never mind. Sorry for yesterday."

"Okay?"

"Thank you for... everything we shared." Harry was ridiculously nervous, but hoped it made him more believable. "I do remember."

"Okay!" Ewen dropped his arms and his features softened.

"We cannot be together."

Ewen blinked a minute sparkle out of his eye.

"Okay," he said and looked at Harry expectantly. "And what about the Yule Ball?"

Oh right. Harry had totally forgotten about that!

"Come on, Draco, let's go together. Your father is in Azkaban. You no longer have to put on a show for him. Stop hiding. Be yourself! Stand up for yourself!"

'Being yourself' was not an option, but 'standing up for yourself' which translated into standing up for Draco, sounded like a real possibility, and it sounded right.

"Okay," Harry said, before he fully realised what it meant.