MEMORY VIAL 42: THE BOY WHO SOLD HIS SOUL (YEAR 6)

Harry mostly recovered from the guilt and shock of having hurt Draco after spending a whole night with him. And while he still wished he could get his hands on a Time-Turner to undo the damage, the Half-Blood Prince's spell had admittedly brought them back together, and so he felt better about the way things had gone as the days went by.

It was Professor Snape who managed to fluster Harry during detention on Saturday morning while the final Quidditch match was underway. "So much for love," he said in a neutral tone, but the accusing insinuation about Draco was loud and clear. "Your love is better that others'—isn't that what you told me last year? And now I get to see just how much better it really is: you don't simply break hearts, Potter, you incinerate them."

As much as Harry wanted to boast about having been with Draco the entire night after the Sectumsempra incident, he kept quiet and focused on the tedious task Snape and Filch had conspired to assign him.

After leaving detention and discovering his team had won the match against Ravenclaw, he felt no guilt in sharing a victory kiss with Ginny in front of everyone, since Draco had always encouraged him to get a girlfriend in the first place. It didn't feel like he was cheating on Draco like he had expected—at least not yet. But he imagined Ginny would be livid if she knew he had been snogging Draco only a few nights ago, and had been urging him to do much more with him besides.

Now that he was officially dating a girl, and one who consistently had his back, Harry couldn't help comparing everything he did with her to everything he had done with Draco and Cho. When it came to Cho, there was no comparison, really, since Ginny was far less emotional and was a lot more fun; not to mention she had a history of defending Harry no matter what he was guilty of.

But as wonderful and dreamlike as everything felt when he was with her, she was somehow bland when compared to Draco, who made a professional sport out of disagreeing with everything he said. It was strange, how Ginny's deference worked against her when pitted against Draco's arrogance and zeal. Although his constant fights with Draco had made for some intense makeup sessions, which were partly to blame for Harry overlooking the most alarming aspects of his character.

In comparison, Ginny was safe, like Harry had expected. She was sweet, predictable, and hardly ever rose to challenge him in a given situation. She wasn't afraid to bandy quips with him or anyone else, but she seemed to have a good grasp on which lines should not be crossed.

In a word: she was perfect. Perfectly tomboyish and gorgeous. The perfect blend of assertiveness and agreeableness. She wasn't ridiculously giggly or painfully shy like most of the other girls she hung out with. In fact, she wasn't like the other girls at all. Ginny was cool; she knew everything there was to know about Quidditch, and to this day, she had said nothing about the magazines she had seen Ron put into his trunk before the school year had begun.

Harry dared to think of her as obedient, even though the word didn't quite suit her. She was a firecracker to everyone else, even Hermione. And he appreciated that, but found himself longing for the intoxicating cycle of arguments and intimate makeup sessions he had enjoyed so much last year.

Harry realized he missed the danger and unexpected surprises of being with Draco—many of them sweet, most of them hurtful. But Draco was putting his love affair with the Dark Arts ahead of Harry, so it was only fair he put Ginny first in the same way, while hoping things would eventually turn out.

At the moment, Harry couldn't decide if Draco was supposed to be an ex-boyfriend or an ex-ex after the last night they had shared. They had not come to a clear agreement about their relationship, but labels seemed useless at this point. When Harry wasn't snogging Ginny in secret corners or next to the Pairing Tree, he was guilty of thinking about Draco clinging on to him while crying in his arms. With Ginny though, Harry felt happy, peaceful, and (most importantly) supported. Draco, on the other hand, amplified all his emotions to the point of making him feel too much. The word "obsessed" didn't quite do his feelings justice. Harry had long since graduated from obsession and had tumbled headlong into feeling possessed by Draco—which was a lot closer to that all-consuming experience that he craved. It was a frightening, out-of-control feeling, but it was as exhilarating now as it had been during their fifth year.

This didn't stop him from exploring Ginny, however. He could forget about Draco as long as he was with her. And on an unconscious level, he hoped she would eventually make him forget his ex for good.

"Have you ever done it?" Harry asked her in a secluded spot in the library one evening. He had just been feeling under her robes, and was trying to wrap his mind around Draco not being able to enjoy how a girl's breasts felt, since it was nothing short of thrilling in his opinion.

Not for the first time, Ginny gave Harry a look that reminded him of Mrs. Weasley. "Of course not. Have you?"

"No." Harry tried to block out the invasive memories of him and Draco sneaking around the castle. "Not with a girl, anyways," he added without thinking.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.

Oblivious to her reaction, however, Harry changed the subject and began waxing poetic about his plans for the Quidditch team the following year.

Harry's enjoyment of Ginny over the next couple of days was punctured by the occasional sting in his gut when he noticed Draco was still absent from the Great Hall. Pansy Parkinson had been looking rundown all year, but she appeared even worse now, along with Astoria who looked to be on the brink of a mental breakdown for not having "the cutest, most brooding boy ever" to gawk at.

Harry knew Draco was at least physically alright. Mentally, however, it was a different story, and that worried Harry in a way he could not easily express. He was determined to enjoy his stint of a normal relationship with Ginny, however, and be glad that Draco had no opportunity to continue his mission for as long as he isolated himself with Madam Pomfrey.

More time passed, and Ginny only seemed to become more perfect. They didn't have to evade anyone's notice, and they never fought, except in brief moments while teasing each other. He had no one's disapproval to contend with except Dean's, and even Hermione was happy for him and admitted he could not have done better for himself. And Harry believed this, since Ginny appeared to have no flaws, apart from her sass—unlike Draco, who had too many to count.

Two weeks after Harry had used the Sectumsempra Spell, he was surprised to find Draco's seat still empty at the Slytherin table. Draco's gang was looking more abandoned than ever, and Astoria could be seen casting Pansy the evil eye, even though Pansy had had nothing to do with the incident at all.

Harry realized then that he had not visited Draco ever since the first night immediately following their fight. He'd been completely wrapped up in Ginny ever since the final Quidditch match, but he resolved to creep in on him later, just to make sure he was alright.

That evening, as curfew was approaching, Harry watched from under his Cloak as Astoria was turned away by Madam Pomfrey.

"He's tired, but doing alright. Don't bother your little head, Miss Greengrass. He's been healed up for some time, but is quite sore and is still struggling to cope. Try again tomorrow."

Astoria clutched the miniature Puffapod plant she had brought with her. "But I have to deliver this tonight!" she lied. "I promised him I would!"

"I'll make sure he knows who it's from," said Madam Pomfrey with a kind but stern smile. And she lifted the plant from Astoria's grip and waved the protesting girl back into the dungeons.

Interestingly, Harry did not feel jealous like he normally would have while he watched Astoria leave the hospital ward looking both agitated and crestfallen. He knew exactly how she felt, since he had felt the same about a few people at one time or another.

When the lights had gone out and Madam Pomfrey had retreated to her office for the night, Harry rushed in, carrying a bundle of Dragonsnap Blooms in one hand, and Fireheart's book of poems in the other. He had also brewed a Mindmend Potion using the potions kit Draco had given him for Christmas, since all the titillating recipe cards—which would have suited them a year ago—no longer seemed appropriate with Draco resisting his advances.

Upon seeing the humble assortment of gifts, Draco looked into Harry's beaming face. "You know what would actually make me feel better?" he said in a whining voice. "That bottle of Liquid Luck Professor Slughorn gave you."

"Well, you're definitely not getting your hands on my Felix Felicis," Harry said, while setting the gifts in Draco's lap. "You think I'm stupid?" He sighed. "Never mind. Don't answer that."

"We're not dating," Draco said warily, while eyeing the flowers and secretly hoping Harry would argue otherwise.

"I don't care what you call this, alright? But we are spending the night together whether you like it or not."

After casting the Muffliato Spell over Madam Pomfrey's office door, Harry crawled onto the bed, handed Draco the book, and snuggled against him. "Read to me? You didn't at all last year, and you were supposed to." He tapped his wand over the pages and said, "Lumos."

Resisting the urge to pull Harry under the blankets with him instead, Draco stared at him for a minute, while Harry looked at him expectantly. "You're sure you want me to read?"

Harry shrugged, not knowing what else they would do. And Draco sighed, since he didn't buy that this was how Harry wanted to spend a night with him.

Draco opened the book at random and thumbed through its pages. Then he settled on a ten-page poem, one of his favorites, and began to read.

Harry had trouble staying attentive, but he watched Draco's lips move gracefully in time with the lyrical poem. He nodded off once or twice, but managed to stay alert for the last three pages as it described a jealous love in haunting detail. Harry straightened immediately when Draco paused at the end and looked at him.

"That was boring," Harry said honestly.

Draco closed the book and smirked. "You asked for it, Potter."

"Well, I think you should cry on me instead… If you want, I mean. I don't think you got it all out the first time."

"That doesn't exactly sound like fun."

"Maybe not for you."

Harry slumped against the pillows, then grinned when Draco flopped lazily beside him with a glare. He reached for Draco's hands and began to play with his fingers, imagining he could easily pull Draco's sleeve up if he wanted. "After my team beat Ravenclaw," he said after a minute, "I asked Ginny to be my girlfriend. She said yes."

Stunned by the news, Draco did nothing except stare at the curtains beyond their feet. He said, as nonchalantly as he could, "Good…"

Harry laced their fingers together. "You're not jealous?"

"Not really," Draco said, adopting a false tone of detachment. "Worst I'll do is hit her with that Sectumsempra Spell if I ever catch her alone in a corridor."

Rather than feel upset, butterflies stirred in Harry's stomach. Jealous-Draco had always been one of his favorite types of Draco. "But we're not boyfriends, remember?"

"Which is why I'll only slice her open from head to foot, like you did me."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that. She's the prettiest girl in the whole school, and I'm lucky to be with her."

Draco rolled his eyes in silent dissent.

Displeased by the lack of genuine support, Harry scowled. "You've got to be kidding. All the boys like her except you. Honestly, Malfoy, I find it hard to believe you aren't attracted to her at least a little bit, even if you are totally bent. She's out of this world."

"Oh yeah? Well, the filthy blood-traitor wouldn't be my type anyways, even if I did like girls. I don't give a Niffler's jewel-sack what the other boys see in her—she's more hideous than the underside of a Blast-Ended—Ouch!"

Before Draco knew what hit him, he was seeing lights, and this was followed by a searing, swelling pain on top his head.

Harry was straddling Draco with his fist held partway in the air. "Call her that again, you lousy—!"

Draco flinched. "My type is you, Potter! That's all I meant! Even with impure blood and stupidity like your own—I love you."

Harry bared his teeth as he braced himself to deliver another blow. But somehow, Draco's backhanded compliment released the pressure he was feeling, and he relaxed his arms and shoulders as Draco's pale eyes met him in the wand-light. He sighed. "I just figured if anyone could make you straight, it would be her… She's not hideous like Pansy, and I've sort of had this fantasy where all three of us are shagging at the same time." He slumped beside him after saying so, then plucked a Dragonsnap Bloom off the blankets between them. He fiddled with the numerous flowerheads and leaned against Draco's shoulder. "I think it'd be fun."

"Ew… That'll never happen. And also, Pansy's prettier than that weasel," he said, continuing his old defense of her. "Honestly, she doesn't deserve half your insults."

"Everyone in Slytherin deserves whatever they get from me."

Draco met Harry's glare with a smoldering look of his own. "Is that so…? And what do I get, Potter? Besides boasts about a stupid new girlfriend and you captaining the luckiest Quidditch team in a century."

Dropping the Dragonsnap Bloom, Harry threw himself over Draco's lap, then asked, "You really wanna know?" When Draco started to nod, Harry pulled him up by the collar of his pajamas and came down over him like a dementor upon its helpless victim. Their lips clashed, and Harry knew he was doing a bad job of kissing Draco, but he didn't care. It was rough and violent, and he felt more like he was sucking the soul out of the other boy's body, so no one could ever lay claim to it, not even Voldemort.

You're mine, he thought, as his mind began to melt like it always did. All mine... He can't have you. You gave yourself to me first, so it isn't fair if you let him have his way.

He forced his tongue past Draco's lips, hoping Draco would meet him with the same energy.

I shouldn't have come here…

Harry pried Draco's lips wider as best he could with his fingers. Hot breath caressed his chin, and Draco's lips latched desperately onto his mouth.

That's it, Malfoy… Kiss me like nothing in the whole world is half as good. Kiss me like it's the last night we're ever going to have together—God, please shag me…

Draco brought his arms around Harry's waist and leaned up for more kisses.

I should leave, but I can't… He's so good, and I love him. I need more.

"You greedy sod… You think you can have me just like that?"

Harry caressed the side of Draco's face and nodded timidly. The scars were almost completely gone by now, but he could still feel the faint grating texture under his fingertips.

"So entitled…"

Harry groaned as he found himself being picked up in Draco's arms and thrown onto his back.

"She can't hear us, can she?"

"Who… Madam Pomfrey? N…no…"

Draco turned his face in toward Harry's neck and began taking in mouthfuls while he kissed it. He moaned quietly at first, then began digging his teeth more harshly into the skin, the more intoxicated he felt.

"Don't leave any marks, please…" Ginny was still clinging to the fringes of Harry's mind, but the tell-tale sensation of a love-bruise being sucked up to the surface began immediately following that request.

"Fuck… I hate you, Malfoy. You're gonna get me in so much trouble…"

All the same, Harry did not fight it. He clung to Draco's shoulders while his neck was devoured over the next several minutes, and he had to signal Draco to stop when one whole side of his neck felt raw and numb with pleasure.

I can blame it on Hagrid's Flobberworms, I guess…

Except, he wasn't taking Care of Magical Creatures anymore. But the logic of how he would explain himself hardly mattered in the next second, with Draco's tongue making its way to the hollow of his throat.

"Mine, Potter…"

Draco ran his lips down the column of Harry's throat. He could feel the warm vibrations of Harry's groans much more directly the lower he went, and so he lapped up the sweat that glistened in the vulnerable spot between his clavicles.

"She can only share. Understand?"

Harry shivered, then grabbed Draco's face in his hands, to guide him in for more kisses. Whatever you say, he thought. As long as you gimme what I want…

And then, as if Draco could read his mind: "Want me to suck your dick, Potter…?"

Those merciful words brought tears to Harry's eyes. Unable to speak, though, he nodded. It had been almost a year since they had touched under their clothes, and so he smiled when he felt his belt beginning to come undone in Draco's hands.

"This is just for you, alright…? I don't want you to do anything back."

Harry's breath shivered in anticipation, and he made a sort of growling noise when his underwear and trousers were pulled down to his knees.

There was silence for a while as Draco admired what he was seeing in the wand-light. "It's leaking precum already… God, look at it." Draco touched the tip of Harry's cock and caressed a single vein that was showing through the tautened foreskin. "You have the loveliest dick, Potter, I swear… It's even more beautiful than I remember."

Harry's cock throbbed impatiently while Draco's fingers traced its length, massaging the foreskin up and down. Then, Harry's breath hitched when he felt the other boy's warm mouth closing over him, making his dick harder than ever. He bunched his fists into the sheets when he felt himself slide in and out again. The base of his cock was clamped between two fingers, but the whole rest of him was getting slippery and wet.

Draco licked the nerves on the frenulum very gently, until Harry squirmed and began to pant like an animal. Then, he sucked the whole length in at a slow, deliberate rhythm, while massaging his fingers in a corkscrewing motion up and down around the base.

"Fuck… That's good."

Half in a daze, Harry licked his lips and watched himself disappear repeatedly into Draco's mouth, over and over again. Every now and then, he caught a glimpse of Draco's tongue as it flitted affectionately over his shaft.

Draco looked up at Harry for a moment, and his heart leaped in reaction to the impassioned look that he was met with. Keeping his mouth full of Harry's cock, he sucked more vigorously, his own dick swelling with hunger as he listened to the Gryffindor moaning and swearing under his breath. He had his heart set on giving attention to the balls as well, but he wanted to focus on one thing at a time—and right now, Harry's cock was twitching better than a dream inside his mouth.

"You're making my dick feel really good… Keep doing that, Draco… Oh my god…"

The edges of Harry's vision blurred in the pallid wand-light. Draco's white-blond head was bouncing excitedly between his legs, and there were sloppy, ruttish sounds coming from Draco's throat while he continued to work the pulsing erection with increasing enthusiasm.

Harry trembled slightly, savoring the long-lost feeling of his cock being teased, wanked, and slobbered on all at once. Then he whimpered when he felt Draco start to massage his balls in between his thumb and fingers. Draco ran his tongue over them for a few moments, sucking them briefly into his mouth before releasing them to the open air.

"You like that, Harry?" Draco stared up while he pumped Harry's cock in one of his fists, the thumb of his other hand working gentle circles around his balls. "This is why you really came here tonight, isn't it…? Needed your dick serviced and couldn't get it better anywhere else?"

"Just shut up and eat my cum."

Draco smirked and kissed the glistening tip of Harry's cock. "Your wish is my command… 'Chosen One'."

Harry's growls turned into guttural moans when Draco swallowed him completely to the base of his cock. Then, he opened his eyes hungrily as he felt himself sliding into the bend in Draco's throat. Tight muscles contracted around him in a way he had never felt before. His mind overloaded from the combined sensory and visual stimulation: his cock was being deepthroated by the boy he loved, and he simply couldn't get over it. It felt hot and dirty, and when Draco groaned, the sounds vibrated in his cock, making Harry's eyes roll into the back of his head.

It was too early for an orgasm, but the rush of his climax wouldn't get any better than this. Harry thrust his hips involuntarily while contractions surged deliciously up his cock. He couldn't believe he was having an orgasm in Draco's throat, but the thought of it only seemed to make it feel that much better.

The last spurts of cum painted the air when Draco choked and had to pull Harry all the way out. Harry's breath came in violent shivers while the contractions faded to a hot pulsing between his legs. He tried to sit up, but the best he could do was lie half-sunk into the pillows. "H-holy…" was the only word he could get out, while Draco continued sucking gently on his spent cock. "S-Stop… You're gonna make it fall off…"

Draco wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his pajamas, then crawled up so he was level with Harry's face. "Naughty pup. Sneaking into the hospital ward to seduce your master, when you know I can't resist."

Aroused by this, Harry plucked at the buttons of Draco's pajamas, but Draco brushed his wandering hands off with: "Nu-uh… You heard me the first time, Potter. No touching."

Disappointed, Harry blinked, while Draco twisted around and settled onto the bed beside him. Draco pulled Harry towards him by the waist, wanting to cuddle, but Harry put on his old fawning expression, hoping it would get through to Draco and win him some access to his body.

"I know what you're doing, love." Draco raked his fingers through the black tangles of his hair. "Trying to charm me out of these clothes, but it's not going to work, I'm afraid."

"But your dick must feel lonely after that. It's not fair."

"I already came, Potter." Draco smirked at Harry appreciatively. "When you started fucking my throat with those shallow little thrusts, it got me so turned on, I couldn't help myself."

Harry stared in disbelief. "You're really gay, you know that? I mean, super gay… I don't think many people could work themselves into an orgasm like that."

"It happened to you a couple of times."

"Yeah. But that's because I was savoring your dick for longer than two minutes."

Draco nestled Harry in his arms, and didn't say anything in response to that. He poked Harry's flaccid cock with a forefinger, then pinched it. "Know what…? Your dick is the cutest, tastiest thing in the whole world. If I could steal it from you, I wouldn't, because I'd miss all the rest of you."

Harry snorted and rested his head on Draco's chest. Then he stretched onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He felt proud of the appetite he had aroused in Draco, and even prouder for making him have a handsfree orgasm. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if they'd still be playing with each other's bodies when they were thirty years old, and older… He hoped so. Harry didn't think he would ever get enough of this, even if they had sex every day.

"Ginny hasn't done anything like that to me yet," he said, aware that mentioning his girlfriend might upset Draco. "Of course, she hardly needs to. Just making out with her gets me so worked up that I sometimes have to—hey!"

Draco had pinched Harry's balls, making him jump and punch Draco in the arm.

"You have my permission to date her, but you're not welcome to talk about her like that."

"Why—are you jealous?" Harry scowled. "My precious ferret's feeling out-weaseled?"

"A little bit…"

"More like a lot. But I'm surprised you admitted even that much. She should be jealous though, I guess… Ginny, I mean." He paused for a minute, mind switching back to the issue of their girlfriends. "…It's wrong, isn't it? Us going behind their backs like this? I don't think either of them would be okay with what we're doing."

"Well, I didn't ask you to come here. And for the millionth time, we're not boyfriends, no matter how many times I suck you off."

"I know… But this just sounds like a convenient loophole, doesn't it? We're doing what lovers do, no matter which way you look at it. And we've done more in one night than I've done with my girlfriend in a week."

Draco's tone was haughty. "It's not my fault she's as cold as the giant squid."

"She's not cold…" Harry scowled again. "The point is, you could've shooed me off at any point, but you didn't, so it feels to me like we're still boyfriends."

Draco sighed. "You're okay with this, aren't you…? Us cheating on them?"

Harry honestly wasn't sure. He shrugged, knowing Draco wouldn't be able to see the problem with it, but the last thing he wanted to do was deceive someone like Ginny, who frankly deserved more respect. At the end of the day, though, he wanted to keep her, as much as he wanted to keep Draco. He wanted to keep the Half-Blood Prince's book also, and he didn't care if anyone tried to tell him that any of these things were bad for him.

Harry ran his thumb over Draco's knuckles in a mindless petting gesture. "I'm not exactly okay with it, but we love each other, don't we…? Even though we're hardly sane together. Here we are, as madly in love as ever, basking in the afterglow of that 'sweet death' your Fireheart writes about so much. Not even girlfriends can keep us apart…"

Draco stared gloomily at the empty ceiling, and his voice took on a dreamy tone. "If I do end up dying, Harry… I hope it happens while I'm in your arms. I think I'd be alright, if your eyes were the last thing I saw."

Harry frowned, then brushed his lips over the back of Draco's hand. "That'll never happen. You can't die, Draco. You're not allowed to, alright?" He twisted around again to look him in the face. "Promise you won't?"

For a moment, there was silence. Draco was touched by Harry's request, and the corners of his lips drew slightly up. "You have a way with words. You don't give yourself enough credit for that." Then, in a jarring attempt to change the subject, he nudged Harry in the side, and said, "She should be jealous, considering all the things we've done… Also, she'll never be better than me, and you know it."

"Oh yeah? We'll see," Harry said, grinning. "I still have lots to do with her."

"Well, I forbid it."

"Are you claiming me as your boyfriend again?" Harry's eyes widened hopefully.

"No," Draco said stubbornly. "At least not yet…"

Harry let out a breath. "Well, even if you were… you're a Death Eater, and I really wouldn't want to—"

"Stop it. You don't know a damn thing about Death Eaters, so you can shut up, unless you want to embarrass yourself."

Harry's muscles tensed at the scary tone Draco had taken. "Show me your forearm then, and I'll shut up."

"I'm not showing you an inch of skin beneath these clothes."

Harry bristled. "Then that proves it!" He went for Draco's sleeve again, but Draco grappled with him until he had a firm grip on both of Harry's wrists.

"Be a good boy, Potter, and remember how I trained you to behave! When I tell you to sit, you sit. When I tell you to leave it, you fucking leave it—unless you want to ruin a perfectly good night!"

"What's so perfect about it if you're on Voldemort's side?" But Harry's words fell on deaf ears. Draco continued to hold him at bay and didn't let go until several minutes of no struggle had passed.

Harry knew he should have left then, but instead he yielded—like a loyal dog to its abusive owner. Frustrated, he sighed.

"That's a good boy," Draco murmured, studying Harry's face for any further signs of mutiny. "You're a good puppy, you know that…?"

"Stop calling me that, you freak. I'm too angry for that right now."

"Alright. Just know I'm patient when it comes to training you."

"God—you really are impossible, aren't you?"

"Impossible about what? You love when I talk like that."

"Sure, Malfoy—when we're shagging! None of it's real, though!"

"Maybe not for you."

Harry glared at him, looking both wounded and offended. And he didn't speak again until his feelings of outrage had abated enough as a result of Draco kissing into his hair.

"You know… even though you're awful… I wish we could date openly like I am with Ginny."

"If we were open, you wouldn't be able to hog a boy and girl at the same time, you greedy Niffler."

"Yeah? Well, I probably wouldn't have even considered her, if you'd never broken up with me in the first place."

Draco looked at Harry curiously. Until now, he had never considered it was maybe his own fault that the boy he loved had fallen in love with Ginny Weasley. He had always imagined it was inevitable, ever since she first defended Harry to his face in Flourish and Blotts. He had seen the competitive fire in her eyes at the time—but he had known even back then that he would always love Harry better.

"Lupin loved my godfather," Harry explained, deciding to draw on a relevant story to better illustrate how he felt. "But he confessed to almost falling in love with a certain witch while Sirius was still alive. He stayed faithful, though… Meanwhile, I'm not." His throat felt tight when he said this. "I'm tricking her and cheating on you both."

"Except you have my permission to an extent." Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Unless she's supposed to represent your godfather—in which case… are you saying you'd pick her over me…?"

Harry fell silent for a while as he pondered Lupin, Sirius, and Tonks. "It's odd," he commented absently, "that she fell in love with Sirius, who was really jealous of her from what I overheard. Meanwhile, Lupin tried not to fall in love with her…" He snorted in appreciation. "That's a messy love triangle if I ever saw one."

"I don't care about them, though. I care about you and me. Which one of us is supposed to be your godfath—?"

"I fell for you first," Harry said confidently, finally realizing what Draco was asking. "I'm mad about you, in every way that can be interpreted. It's not normal, I don't think. It hurts like hell, and you drive me insane, but it's like I can't get enough. You make me feel like my soul have been lit with Everlasting Fire, and I want more of it, especially when we're apart. I don't want it to end."

I want her too, though, Harry intended to say next.

"Obsession is dangerous," Draco said, harking back to their first day of classes, even though he felt exactly the same way.

"I don't care. Like I've been saying these past couple of years: I love you."

"And hate me. We despise each other, Harry, and we have almost nothing in common. We aren't good for each other."

"You might not be good for me, but I'm definitely good for you."

"That's not how it works. We're both wrong for each other. We don't even share the same values—we have nothing in common."

"Two wrongs make a right. A Muggle Mathematician's Guide." Harry searched Draco's eyes after inventing that textbook on the fly.

Draco looked momentarily confused, but said nothing else to argue the point. He hadn't bothered taking the Muggle Studies elective, so he didn't want to say anything that might make him sound ignorant about the same.

"Whatever, Potter…"

"It means we work out, even though we shouldn't."

"I said, whatever. As if I didn't already know that."

Harry expelled a breath, then laid his head on Draco's chest again. He reflected on everything that had happened between them ever since they had met in Madam Malkin's. Bullying. Slurs. Kisses. Hot dates. And heartbreaking disagreements. But he imagined he could thrive on the constant crisis of their relationship forever if he was asked to—if Draco would only resign his post as Death Eater.

"Stop whatever you're doing, Malfoy," he said, unable to stop himself from pleading. "Switch sides… If for no other reason, do it for me. You can't have a good reason to serve him."

Draco searched the curtains around them. "First off, I have good reasons for everything I do. Second, your assumptions are absolutely baseless. I am on your side, whether you realize it or not. But you'll understand what I'm doing one day, and I look forward to your groveling apology."

Harry elbowed him in the stomach, making Draco double over into a fit of coughing. "Oops." He suppressed a grin. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy… I thought you were the pillow."

A few minutes later, Harry set his glasses on the bedside table and wrapped half his body around Draco. He yawned, then asked, "Snape's helping you, isn't he…?"

"There's nothing for him to help me with. Except homework, and I'm not even getting help from him there."

"Rubbish. He's a Death Eater too, and you're both in on whatever you're doing in that Room."

"How about," Draco murmured darkly, "you mind your own goddamn business?"

"I am. And too bad for you, the year's almost up, and you've not been able to do the thing Voldemort wants you to do. Who knows, you might even be forced to join the Order and be with me when the war breaks out."

"You just want me to save you from that hussy."

"There's only one way for you to find out. Unless you're scared of her?"

"Meddlesome Mooncalf."

"Fairy Glitter-huffing git."

Draco glared at Harry, and Harry glared back with a fierce sparkle in his eyes.

They murmured threats to each other and continued to argue for an hour longer. They bantered and insulted each other as sharply as they could, and when they finally fell asleep, Harry's wand flickered out, leaving them in total blackness.

When morning came, Harry failed to wake up early enough to sneak out of the hospital dorm without notice. He practically shat himself at the sound of Madam Pomfrey opening the drapes of the lower windows with her wand, while saying briskly, "Rise and shine, Mr. Malfoy! Oh, it's a beautiful day…"

Harry swung himself off the opposite side of the bed while pulling his trousers and Cloak on at the same time. He could not have acted sooner, for as soon as he hit the ground, she had pulled the privacy curtains back and exclaimed, "Is everything alright? It sounded like you took a tumble just now!"

"I'm fine." Draco swallowed nervously, meaning to give her a condescending look, but failed miserably. "You startled me is all. I've no idea what that sound was. Probably, uh—my books."

Madam Pomfrey peeked around the bed curiously, in search of said books. Seeing nothing, however, she rounded on Draco again, then asked, "Can I get you anything, dearie? Your usual tea?"

"No. But I'll be ready for something after—"

"I know you'll be expecting a bowl of muesli by seven o'clock. Just let me know if you need anything in the meantime." She smiled warmly, while he scowled at her dubiously. "You're looking more vibrant this morning compared to yesterday! You really should return to your normal schedule. It'll do you some good to be with your friends again, and lord knows they spend enough time up here."

Before Madam Pomfrey bustled off, her eyes alighted on the three gifts Harry had left on Draco's bedside table, next to Astoria's Puffapod plant. She made a curious noise in the back of her throat, then said, "When did you have a visitor? Those weren't there last night, and it's too early for a student to be out of bed. And who's glasses—?"

"Astoria uses them for reading," Draco interrupted hastily. "She, uh… she couldn't wait, especially after last night. She snuck up with these, so I thanked her, but I reminded her to follow the rules. Please don't get her in trouble."

"That girl," Madam Pomfrey said with a nostalgic look. "She really is making it hard for you to say no, isn't she? Well, if you're in the mind to leave today, she'll be glad to see you."

"Today?"

"Why, you can leave whenever you want, Mr. Malfoy! You're the one who said you needed extra care—and I'd never say no to a student, would I?" She eyed him with a concerned look, before adding, "Are you still feeling like offing yourself, dearie…?"

Not knowing what to say, Draco stared at her. He hadn't wanted Harry to learn about his state of mind from her like this, but he croaked in answer, "No… Not anymore. I mean… Astoria asked me not to die last night, so I guess… well, you know…"

He swallowed nervously, eyes straying over the side of his bed for a split second. He hoped Harry did not know what this statement actually meant: that Draco intended to get back to work on the Vanishing Cabinet as soon as possible, to make sure he did not need to fear for his life to the point of suicidality anymore.

"Good lad," Madam Pomfrey said gently. "Well… do call if you need anything."

"Yes, ma'am."

When she disappeared into her office, Harry bounded onto his feet, threw the Invisibility Cloak over Draco, then kissed him with more aggression than was necessary. "If I see or sense you near that Room again, Draco, I swear I'll do whatever I have to, even if it means hurting you."

Harry snatched up his glasses and poetry book from the bedside table. He took one last look at the Slytherin—who indeed looked healthier—then buttoned his trousers clumsily while scampering out of the dormitory.

Draco stared in Harry's wake, seeing nothing the whole while, but feeling emptier with each step Harry took. I'd rather you stayed, he thought trepidly, feeling more and more fearful as Voldemort's mission loomed to the forefront of his mind. He knew he couldn't stay with Madam Pomfrey a single hour longer, not unless he wanted to die. He needed to get back to work as soon as possible. In order to live. In order to save his whole family and secure everyone's future.

AT DUMBLEDORE'S FUNERAL

Harry knew he should have forced his way into the Room of Requirement by convincing Professor Trelawney to take him inside. He had been a fool, believing that bringing it up to Professor Dumbledore would be the right answer. Getting into that Room should have been his first priority, rather than hunting for the Horcrux that ultimately proved to be a counterfeit. But the moment Professor Trelawney had mentioned Severus Snape overhearing the prophecy that had changed the course of Harry's life, he had lost all ability to reason.

If Snape had not been mentioned, he might've quickly realized that going into the Room with her was the best answer. He could've convinced Draco to switch sides, and promised that he would never let anything happen to him or his horrible family, no matter what Voldemort had threatened him with. He could have vowed his love and loyalty until the end of time: that he would lay his life down, if necessary, to keep the Dark Lord from ever coming within reach.

Then again, Harry had mentioned these promises already at various times throughout the year. Draco had refused them all. And Dumbledore had also tried to convince Draco (at the top of the Astronomy Tower) to take refuge in the Order but had failed. He had nearly convinced him, but not quite. Draco had stayed firm in his resolve, out of fear for his own life, and Harry really could not blame him, seeing as both his parents were at the mercy of the Dark Lord.

Thankfully, Draco wasn't the one who had killed Dumbledore. This didn't acquit him in Harry's mind, however, since the fact remained: Draco had brought a small army of Death Eaters into the castle, and the mere thought of that made Harry feel sick.

He had underestimated Draco's cleverness and resourcefulness, it seemed. But now he just felt tired…

He was tired of the endless ups and downs of a relationship that was constantly screeching wildly off its rails. His heart had also broken all over again during Draco's escape from Hogwarts, all while it had been raging simultaneously against Snape—the traitor and murderer.

To add salt to Harry's wounds, the old Spin-the-Bottle magic was tightening presently around his ankles during Dumbledore's funeral, reminding him of Draco's plight and the secret love they had nurtured for so long.

Harry would've loved to force Draco to look him in the eye while demanding an explanation. But Snape was his main target now, since he was the reason everything had worked out in the Dark Lord's favor to begin with. Draco, on the other hand, had been nothing but a throwaway pawn. He'd been bullied into obedience, and he was as much a victim in a game that was too big for him as anyone else. But he had also been too eager to play along with Voldemort's rules, never once considering Harry's offer for help in a serious way.

Since he was a small child, Draco had been enamored with the Dark Arts, and had glamorized the Death Eaters, without one realizing how incompatible it all was to his nature. Murder wasn't a thing he was capable of—and Harry felt like he was beginning to understand now: there were parts of Draco Malfoy that were actively resisting the intended use of the Dark Arts.

You could be an Auror too, Malfoy, Harry thought tearfully, while Ginny grasped his hand in the chair beside him. We could be partners… then you'd have plenty of Dark Magic to contend with, but you'd be helping people instead of hurting them.

But Draco's love for Dark Magic was still at war with his vaunted love for Harry. And these affections were incompatible. They could not coexist any more than Harry could coexist with Lord Voldemort. He had to consider the circumstances going forward, and make wise choices accordingly. Even though Draco had resisted using the Killing Curse this time, Harry could not be sure he'd be able to do the same again, if Voldemort's influence became strong enough.

Harry had been told so many times by Dumbledore that love prevailed, but he wasn't so sure, now that he was truly separated from the love of his life, and all because of Dark Magic. The power of love sounded like hogwash, since his own love (as well as Draco's) had failed to affect anything. His pleas with Draco had resulted in nothing—unless Harry had misunderstood what Dumbledore had meant.

Maybe Dark Magic couldn't be resisted if it was loved, since Draco had often talked about the Dark Arts in similar terms to Dumbledore's love magic.

" 'Dark' is just a name some wizards put on esoteric magic they're too afraid to understand," Draco had once said to him last year. "It's not so Dark, when you get right down to it—if you took the time to understand it. It's a source of power that people like Dumbledore are afraid of, but that doesn't make it any less useful."

"You think what Voldemort did to my parents was useful?" Harry had protested angrily.

"First off, stop calling him that in front of me. And second, you can misuse any kind of magic—obviously, Potter. It's only the fact that something's different and not Ministry-approved that sends people dumbling to their doors, as if he's some kind of savior. If you want to fight it so badly, I think learning and using it is the most effective strategy."

"You don't honestly mean to defeat Dark Magic with Dark Magic," Harry had said incredulously. "You're making excuses for it to be taught, is all."

"Maybe…" Draco had cast him a haughty look. "But so what if I am?"

They had argued for a long time after that, Harry seething with indignation the whole while, but not once feeling any less attracted to this boy who peddled dangerous thoughts. Somehow, though, he had always known Draco was all bark and no bite. He talked a big talk, and swaggered like a peacock, but had revealed himself to be something much softer than he put on. Harry knew Draco might break a few bones, but would never kill willingly. He had refused to kill Dumbledore to save his own life after all, even though he had hated the old man with a passion.

He remembered the last words Draco had said to him, before they had fallen asleep during their last night together:

"Remember how I said I never broke my promise to you, Potter?"

"Yeah."

"Well… I never will. There's nothing I won't do."

"Except there are certain Orders you'll refuse to join."

This had silenced Draco. But after a while, he had murmured, "I'd sell my soul for you in a heartbeat, if I saw the need to… I'd risk us, if it meant I was able to keep you safe."

"Last year, you wanted revenge. You wanted to hurt me over what happened to your father."

"Sure. But we're long past that now. There are so much bigger things to worry about."

"Like how to get Voldemort to fall in love with you in ten easy steps?"

"Oh, shut up."

"No, you shut up…"

It wasn't until Harry broke up with Ginny after Dumbledore's funeral that he guessed what might have been going through Draco's mind all year to further necessitate their separation. When Harry told her, "Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to," he immediately thought of how Draco had avoided him all year, even going so far as to attack him to reenforce the distance. That, on top of everything else he had learned, seemed to explain most of Draco's bad behavior for the past twelve months, as unsatisfying as it was.

The only time Draco had been affectionate towards him was after Harry had almost killed him. But Draco had been drained of the will to live at that point, at least until Harry had asked him not to die. All their pretense for not loving each other had melted away for two nights, extinguishing their mutual resentment, if not entirely resolving it. Their intimacy had felt stronger than ever—and, in fact, it seemed they didn't need to have sex to be intimate at all. Harry had realized this after the first night they had spent together. He imagined he would take the secret of Draco's crying to the grave, and he would cherish that dark moment forever, and never wash his blood-stained tie for as long as he lived.

But there was still the issue of the girl he had just broken up with. Harry knew he didn't quite love Ginny yet, but even if he did, he thought he could understand what Sirius had said to Lupin so long ago:

"I think you and I understand more than anyone how it's possible to love two people at the same time."

But one lover would always take precedence, wouldn't they? Someone would always get a bigger piece of Harry's heart—and Draco had already claimed ownership of it all, although the pieces he had torn off through the years were falling right at Ginny's feet.

Harry was set on killing Voldemort. He would not rest till it was done. But he would keep the door unlocked for Draco's return—as unlikely as it was—while avenging Dumbledore, his parents, and everyone who had been terrorized by the Dark Lord.