Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I need a place to hide things.

Turn.

I need a place to hide things.

Turn.

I need a place to hide things.

Turn.

A door appeared out of nowhere, as if the wall had melted away. Draco Malfoy sighed in relief, and hurried through without a second thought. This year hadn’t been like he thought it would be. At the beginning, he had thought that it would be… easy, fun, almost, to be a Death Eater at a Hogwarts ruled by the Dark Lord.

It had not.

It was horrible; wherever he turned, all he saw was either arrogant sneers or eyes filled with pain, or just dull acceptance.

His left arm was always disturbing him; there was an itch there, just underneath his skin, but when he scratched at it, there was just a short, faint relief before the itch was back again. The only thing the scratching did was leaving his skin red and raw. Everywhere but the Dark Mark, of course, which always stayed ink black and taunting.

He was filled with regret every time he looked at it, looked at the Dark Mark, so Draco tried to hide it. Sometimes, though… when he showered, or slept, or when it was too warm to walk around in sweaters… he couldn’t. And then the regret was back, and he was pulled into reality, into the harsh, too-cold reality.

So he came here, to get lost in the tall piles of what someone once called trash. It gave him a haunted feeling of security. It was his safe haven, the place he went to when he needed peace and calm and quiet. In the beginning, he came once a month. Then once a week. Then twice a week. Then every day at lunch.

Today was no exception, and he took a deep breath and released it as he began his journey between the mountains of forgotten things.

*

Draco stumbled upon the box purely by accident- quite literally. He had been walking along, nose stuck in a book, when his shoe got caught in the black box the size of his hand.

The Room of Requirement rarely put something in his path like that, since yes, the paths were made by the room and the items scattered across it by will, so Draco shrugged and picked it up. He proceeded to cast a dozen detection spells on the box, just to be sure, because about half the items in the Room were jinxed or hexed in some way or the other.

Upon finding no curses on the container, Draco popped the lid open-

and gaped in surprise.

On top of soft, dark blue feathers, a Time-Turner rested. It didn’t look like a normal Time-Turner, however. It was larger than usual, not so much that it was in the way, or irritating, just enough to be noticeable. Where normal Turners were golden, almost yellowish in color, this one was close to dark red, and didn’t shimmer or gleam like it should. That wasn’t the most disturbing fact, however. The sand, instead of being bright, or pale, was black, almost like coal.

Draco shut his mouth with a snap. Wary of casting anything on the magical item, he picked it up by its chain with the tip of his wand. He didn’t want to touch it directly just yet; for all he knew, the Room was tired of him coming in all the time and wanted to get rid of him. Yes, it could do that. Yes, it had done it before, with other students.

A piece of parchment fell to the floor near his feet, and Draco bent down to pick it up with a frown.

                To whomever, the note said, in shaky, almost - hurried? Unsure? Childish? - handwriting.

                This is not a normal Time-Turner. You might notice that it has only one ring. On a normal Time-Turner, this ring would decide how many hours you would go back. On this Turner, however, the ring decides how many years you go back. In addition, this Time-Turner does not transport your body, but your soul, your knowledge, your memories, and your magical core: it transports the essence that is you. You will be reborn in a body; yours, if you lived at the time you turn back to. Very little will be brought back with you; the Time-Turner, for one, and any items you might have a bond with. (For example; Horcruxes, Hallows, Charms, etc.)

                Do remember, however, that the Turner can only be used once per person; although, two people can travel together.

                Be careful.                                                                                                                                          

Draco blinked down at the note, his mouth once again hanging open. This item could change everything. Everything! He could turn back a year, to when he’d gotten the Dark Mark-

but no, he couldn’t refuse it. The Dark Lord would kill him, surely, and what would he then do to Father? Mother? Torture, death, imprisonment-

No, he couldn’t go back a full year… he could, however, go back to his tenth birthday and change things from there on, perhaps run away or change things all together.

A strange idea formed in his mind, and Draco looked up from the note with wide eyes. He could take Potter with him back in time, couldn’t he? Together, they could change much more- yes, Draco Malfoy had a lot of power in the Wizarding Word, but Harry Potter had much more.

Surely, the Boy-Who-Lived didn’t want the Dark Lord to murder him and his friends! By going back in time and changing things-

but Draco didn’t want to cease to exist, and Potter wouldn’t want to go back with him-

well, it was either him or nothing, Draco decided with a scoff. If Potter didn’t want him, too, then fine. He would cease to exist, and Draco could do this on his own.

*

“You wait here,” Draco hissed at his bodyguards/friends.

Crabbe and Goyle frowned, but nodded and sat down on the ground. Another Point me Harry Potter told him in which direction to go, and with a determined nod, Draco began to march towards his rival.

“Harry Potter,” he drawled when he finally caught sight of him. Potter, along with Weasel and Granger, spun around with their wands drawn, ready to fight for their lives. Draco raised his arms in surrender, and took a step back. “I’ve just come to talk.”

“What would you ever want to talk about, Malfoy?” Weasel sneered, even as Potter frowned and put a hand on his arm, trying to quiet him down.

“Talk, Malfoy,” Potter said quietly, never once putting away his wand or looking in another direction. Weasel continued to sneer, but scowled and took a step back.

Draco walked forward with careful, yet quick steps, and threw up a privacy ward when he was close enough to Potter to do so. “Don’t you want to change things?” Draco asked, in hushed tones, and ignored the way Potter’s face lit up in surprise.

Potter frowned at the unusual bluntness, but didn’t pull away. “What do you mean?”

“If I told you that we could turn back time to our first year, with all of this disappearing, would you do it?” Draco said instead.

“Disappear?” Potter raised an eyebrow, even though something like hope sparked in his eyes. Draco wasn’t surprised; even though the young man wanted attention, he must be sick in his head to wish to fight the Dark Lord.

It was hard to explain what he meant, but Draco decided to try. He needed Potter on his team to make this work out. “Call it going to another dimension, if you wish.”

“How?” Potter demanded to know, taking a step forward, much to Weasel’s horror.

With a solemn expression, Draco pulled out the Time-Turner from his pocket. “This. But it can only take two people, and can only be used once by these people.” Potter frowned in confusion, and Draco rolled his eyes. “I refuse to stay here, and I will only go with you; don’t you think we’d be able to change things? The Boy-Who-Lived and the Slytherin Prince? I don’t want to live like this, Potter! I won’t live like this. I’ll go back anyways, and try to change things, but with your help it would be easier. Don’t you want to give it another chance?”

There was a short mument where Potter closed his eyes and seemed to think. A million expressions flitted over his face, and then, after almost a full minute, he opened his eyes again. They were lit up in a different way than they’d been before, in a strange way. There was hope in them. There was regret in them, too, and a sort of shallow yet deep pain, but… the Gryffindor seemed determined, in spite of this. “When to?” he asked quietly, after meeting Draco’s gaze before abruptly looking away.

“Seven years back, to May 2^nd, 1990,” Draco answered, ignoring the wave of relief that washed over him. It probably showed in his eyes, since he hadn’t expected Potter to agree so easily, but he wouldn’t let it show in his expressions. Slytherins don’t do that sort of thing, although Potter probably caught on. Maybe.

“The year before Hogwarts,” Potter muttered absentmindedly, as he took a step closer to let Draco loop the chain around his neck. “If nothing else, I’ll see you then.”

“Yes,” Draco agreed, grabbing the hourglass filled with black sand. He could feel Granger –and possibly Weasel- attacking his privacy wards, but hopefully they held for long enough. He only had to spin the ring, after all, and then they would be gone. Merlin, they were going to change things, once and for all-

“I don’t trust you, Malfoy,” Potter said quietly, and Draco looked up from the Turner to meet his gaze. It was hard as steel, and oh, so cold- yet, soft and fragile. As if he was trying to tell him something. Draco thought he caught on, but at the same time, it felt like Potter was speaking a completely different language. The Slytherin Prince swallowed thickly under the heavy gaze of the Boy-Who-Lived.

“But at this point I’m too tired to care if you’re going to kill me or not.”

Draco spun the Time-Turner.

Chapter One

The first thing Draco wondered about when he woke up on May 3^rd 1990, was how old he was. Seventeen, from before- but should he count the ten years he were now? If he did, he would be 27, same with Potter…

Yes, they should count it in, if not for anything useful then for bragging rights.

Was he really back? Back, in 1990, before everything had started to go wrong? Before the Dark Lord and the Dark Mark, before horrors and pain and guilt and regret?

Slowly, Draco sat up in his bed. He started a bit when he slipped out of it, expecting the floor to meet him much earlier than it actually had. Oh, but he was short! He’d lost at least twenty inches, and-

God, what about his hair? Reaching up to touch it, Draco found that it was at least not slick when he slept. Good, that was an embarrassing part of his past that he’d rather forget.

Draco hurried to change into normal robes, grinning a bit madly when the Dark Mark was absent from his slender arm.

This time, they were going to do it right.

*

Draco allowed things to proceed without much change; he was acting less like an arrogant brat, he realized, and had slunk back in shame over his own behavior before.

It appeared that there was a lot to be changed, opposed to what he had thought before.

He had no idea where Potter lived, after all, and had no ways to contact him. Well, as Potter himself had said: if nothing else, they’d see each other at Hogwarts.

*

Early-June, a snow white owl that Draco recognized as Potter’s owl –huh, so he had been able to get it this time around, too- flew in through his window, and dropped an envelope on his desk.

Humming to himself, Draco put down the book he’d been reading, and walked over to his chair. The letter was written on parchment, thankfully, and it began like this:

Malfoy,

I have escaped the Dursley’s, thank Merlin for that, and am now residing at the Leaky Cauldron. I remember everything. Do you want to meet to discuss your plans, or do we wait until Hogwarts?

Signed, Harry

                Ps. I don’t give a damn about Dumbledore, but I still spelled the letter so that only you can read it. Anyone else would only be able to see a blank parchment.

Draco raised an eyebrow. Dursley’s? Plans?

Potter

Yes, I am aware of the secrecy spell. Merlin, you act like I’m some mudblood or something. Who are the Dursley’s, and why are they important?

Plans? What made you think I have plans?

Signed, Draco Malfoy

                Ps. Keep spelling the letter. I’ve done the same.

Draco rolled his eyes, but tied the parchment roll to the owl’s leg and sent it away. Not two days later, and he had a reply.

Malfoy,

Don’t call them that. My mum was muggle-born. I won’t work with you unless you respect that. The Dursley’s… oh, where do I begin? My Aunt is my Mum’s sister, and when she died, I was shipped off to live with my muggle family. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley. Bastards, the lot of them. After being treated like a house-elf one time too much, I snapped and left.

After doing some damage, of course.

You’re a Slytherin. I expected you to have some plans. That was very Gryffindor of you, Malfoy. Have you gone soft?

Signed, Harry.

                Ps. Will do.

Draco gave a small wince when he read that Potter’s mother was muggle-born. Well, that certainly explained things. He wouldn’t work with him unless he respected that? Fine, he wouldn’t say mudblood in Potter’s presence, would that be enough? Probably not, he mused, but shook his head lightly.

Then his mind caught up with what he had read. Muggles? The Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the Wizarding World, had lived with muggles? In addition, abusive ones?

He’d been treated like a house-elf. One time too much? He’d been treated like that often, then. His next letter to Potter simply said

What did you do to them?

The answer came the next day.

Just some light torture. I don’t think Dudley will go unharmed, though. Snort. I’ve heard boggarts can do that to you. Did you know, there was one in Dudley’s first bedroom, in the closet he keeps all his books? I had certainly not expected that.

Draco shook his head. “Dobby!” he called, and the elf popped in next to him. “Fetch me some parchment and a quill.”

“Yes, Young Master Draco, Dobby will do.”

The elf popped out of the room to do exactly as Draco had asked him to. Three seconds later, and the items were laying on top of his desk.

Potter,

Meet me at Flourish and Blots, 10 AM this Tuesday. We have a lot to discuss.

Signed, Draco Malfoy

*

“Malfoy,” a voice said, interrupting Draco from an interesting book he’d been reading. He almost spun around, wand drawn, when he remembered that this was- this wasn’t war. This was peace.

Draco turned around with a smirk. “Potter,” he drawled. The smirk slipped when he took in the boy, however. He was thin, too thin, and shorter than average. He wasn’t supposed to be small, but he was, and it caused his body to look awkward and the proportions to seem a bit… off. His cheeks, although they’d began to fill out now, were hallowed out, and his eyes… those sparkling, green eyes were haunted by horrors Draco couldn’t comprehend. For the first time, Draco truly realized how Harry Potter had been treated, first by the muggles, then by the wizarding word- then by him.

Draco may have been too blinded by his own arrogance the last time around, but when he said that he’d make things right- he meant everything.

An almost blinding rage welled up in Draco, and he returned his focus on Potter’s face, meeting his gaze with a sneer. “You’re coming with me to live at Malfoy Manor after summer, Potter,” he spat. Potter blinked in confusion.

“O-kay? Will your father allow that?”

Draco sniffed, quite arrogant and mocking. “Oh, I can manage quite an impressive temper tantrum. We’ll be fine.”

Potter snorted, and rolled his eyes. He then proceeded to grab Draco’s wrist, and began to pull him towards the door. “Come on. We can’t talk here.”

“Wait, I want this book!” Draco complained.

Potter raised an eyebrow and shot the book a look. “’How To: Animagi’?”

“No?” Draco said, flipping the book to read himself. Had he taken the wrong one? “This clearly says: ‘Jinx, Hex, Curse: Common and Uncommon’.”

The two shared a look, and, as one, hurried over to the clerk. “Excuse me,” Potter said. “But which book is this?”

The clerk, a witch in her fifties, gave a small chuckle when she caught sight of the book. “A best seller and personal favorite of mine,” she said, turning towards them. “I take it you see different things?” The two wizards nodded. “The book is spelled so that it will show what the reader needs the most; not in this particular moment, but something that might very well save or change their life.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “How much?” he breathed, and the witch raised a knowing eyebrow.

“8 galleons.”

*

“Curses, huh?” Potter said, once they’d found themselves a nice, hidden table at the Leaky Cauldron.

Draco shrugged. “I didn’t decide,” he pointed out, and Potter nodded. There was silence for a moment while Draco fumbled for words. “What did you do to them?”

Potter looked up, with a startled expression. A flush creeped up his neck and he returned to playing with his food. “I, ah… spelled their blood to stay inside of their bodies,” he started, in a quiet whisper. “Then- sectumsempra. And crucio.”

More silence, as Draco fought with his shock and won. “That’s- pretty hardcore stuff, Harry,” he said, and leaned back in his seat.

Potter’s eyes widened. “Did you just-”

“Sorry,” Draco hurried to say, swallowing. That had just slipped out of him. Where had it come from? “I won’t do it again.”

Potter ignored him, choosing instead to lean forward and rest his elbows on the table with a scowl. “Listen, Draco,” he said, startling Draco badly. “I didn’t come back to do everything again. I don’t want to take part of this war.”

Pot- oh, fine. Harry had once more startled Draco badly, and it showed.

“I didn’t come back to die. I wanted to come back to live.”

“And you’re okay with leaving the wizarding world unprotected?” Draco whispered.

Harry snorted. “Hardly,” he said. “There are lots of Aurors here. I don’t want to be the Boy-Who-Lived. I just want to be Harry. Harry, youngest seeker in Gryffindor history… well, not that I believe I’ll be sorted into there again.”

This was too much. Draco wasn’t sure what to do. “Well, what are you planning, then? Leaving the country?” Harry shrugged. He shrugged, as if this didn’t really matter. Draco groaned. “Can’t we just kill the bastard?”

Harry adopted a thoughtful frown. “We’d have to hunt down his Horcruxes first,” he said slowly.

Draco fell out of his chair. “Horcruxes?” he whispered, in a high pitch, from the floor. “The Dark Lord had Horcruxes? Plural form?”

Harry leaned to the side to look at him as he stood up and sat down on his chair. “He had six,” he said quietly. “A diary, that one I believe your father has, Hufflepuff’s Cup, that’s in Bellatrix’ vault, Ravenclaw’s diadem, hidden at Hogwarts, a ring, I know where it is, Slytherin’s locket, at Sirius’ childhood home, and Nagini, which I have no idea where is.”

“Six,” Draco repeated. “Do you know how to destroy them?”

Harry nodded. “Basilisk venom,” he said. “And fiendfyre. I’ve read up on them.”

“And- you can hunt them down?”

Harry groaned, but nodded. “Yes. Now that I know where they are, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Give me until school starts, and I should have gotten most of them, if not all. Voldemort lives at the back of Quirrel’s head, just so you know about that.”

Draco fell out of his chair again.

*

Draco,

I need a house-elf to do everything that I have to do, about you-know-what. The most practical would be to have one from the Malfoy’s, since the diary is at your place. Could you give one to me?

Signed, Harry

                Ps. Give me Dobby. Please. And don’t give him a sock. I will be irritated for weeks if you do.

With a wince, Draco walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of robes that were just a tad too small for him. “Dobby!” he called, and the house-elf popped in. “Dobby, I’m going to free you.”

The creature’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “Oh, Young Master Draco are too kind, thank you, Young Master Draco, thank you,” he whispered. Draco did a double take. Thank you?

“But I have a request. A friend of mine wants you to work for him. Harry Potter, have you heard of him?”

Dobby’s eyes widened even further. “Harry Potter?” he squeaked. “Dobby is to be working for the great Harry Potter?”

Without a word, Draco shrunk the robes to fit the tiny creature, and handed them to him. “I need you to go straight to him and perform the bonding, okay?”

Dobby nodded so hard Draco thought his head was about to fall off. “Dobby will, sir. Oh, yes, Dobby will!”

The next time Draco saw the strange house-elf, was two weeks later, in the middle of July. Dobby had popped in and delivered the message that “Master Harry Potter has told Dobby to tell Draco sir that most of the problems has been handled and that Draco sir won’t be hearing from Master Harry Potter before school.”

Draco stared. “Well,” he said slowly. “You can tell Harry that I say thank you for keeping me updated,” he told the elf, who then popped away. With a sigh, Draco turned towards the letter he’d been writing to Harry, asking about just that. “Bastard,” he muttered, and threw away the piece of parchment.

The next few weeks passed without anything significant happening, and Draco heaved a breath of relief when he stepped onto Platform 9 ¾ with his Father. After sharing a quick goodbye and listening to his Father rant about going to Slytherin, Draco was off to get onto the train.

Not three minutes passed before the form of Harry Potter bounced over to his side. “Potter,” Draco greeted politely, raising an eyebrow at the grin Harry was sporting.

“Oh, none of that, now, Draco!” Harry protested, eyes twinkling mischievously. “If you’ve first off gone and called me Harry, you might as well continue.”

Draco sighed, but nodded warily. “Fine,” he muttered. A moment later, Vincent and Greg fell into step behind him in their usual positions. Rolling his eyes, Draco turned to Greg and said “Include Harry, would you?” With a grunt, Greg moved further to the left, which caused him to end up behind Harry instead of Draco.

“Oooh, a personal bodyguard!” Harry grinned. “How fun.”

“Indeed,” Draco drawled. “Come on. Let’s find a carriage.”

*

Harry dropped into the seat opposite of Draco, and immediately went to read in the Necessary book. They’d dubbed it like that so that they could talk about it more easily, and Draco found that he quite liked it.

Draco found himself staring. Harry’s cheeks had begun to fill out, now, but his hair was as messy as ever and his eyes just as haunted. “Are you gonna try and get into the Quidditch team?” Draco blurted.

He regretted it immediately, but Harry just laughed. “Hell no,” he said. “I don’t have the time nor need for that. I can just as easily go and fly on my own whenever I want. No big deal.”

“Huh,” Draco said. “You have a point.”

“Of course I have,” Harry said. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“You are? I hadn’t noticed.”

They laughed, and Draco thought that maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he’d feared.

And if there was relief in Harry’s eyes when no one entered their compartment, Draco definitely didn’t feel smug at his spell work.

Chapter Text

The sorting was filled with- oh, that’s right. No surprises at all. Harry and Draco both went to Slytherin. Granger and Weasley went to Gryffindor.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, late at night, while the both of them were laying in bed.

There was shuffling from Harry’s bed, and then a mop of black hair popped out from beneath the covers. “What dchu mean?”

“Well,” Draco said, gesturing with his hands. “It’s just… you just saw your best friends take a different path than you.”

Harry smiled. “Draco, it’s fine. I don’t think that I’d be able to… love them again. Not these versions of them. Young. Oblivious. Jealous and know-it-alls.” Draco opened his mouth, about to respond, and then-

“Besides. I have you.”

Draco smiled back. “Yeah. You do.” He turned around.

That night he slept well.

Chapter Text

The next day, their adventure began.

And Draco tried, he really did, to be that little kid again. The innocent one, who appreciated a simple game of Exploding Snap with his friends.

But that Draco was in the past. Or the future, if you want. Things were different, now, and when Draco woke at night Harry was already there, ready to comfort him. In a way, they comforted each other by simply being there.

Draco wanted to forget it all. Live a better, healthier life. But he couldn’t. Not when Voldemort still was out there, living at the back of their goddamned teacher’s head.

How Harry managed to act casual around him, Draco had no idea. He, himself, wanted to snarl and sneer and hex him into oblivion. At the same time, he had the instinctive desire to bow, with a muttered my Lord, whenever they were in the same room.

How was he going to survive a year of this?

*

Together, they went to the Room of Requirement to find Ravenclaw’s Diadem.

Draco let out a hiss through clenched teeth as they entered the room. “Oh,” he breathed, one hand shooting up to rub at his temples. “Damn.”

Harry made a vague confused noise, even as he began to walk along the mountains of trash.

“I-” Draco began, but cut himself off. He hurried after Harry, determinedly sticking close to his side. “I just wasn’t prepared. Is all.”

Harry hummed, and shot a look at Draco through the corners of his eyes. “You don’t have to do this,” he muttered. Draco wanted to tell him that they were alone, he could speak louder, but at the same time… he needed silence. He wanted silence, and the calm way that it rolled over his body in waves.

“I want to,” he said, loud and clear, and winced when the sound echoed. “Do you think…” He paused. Licked his lips, feeling like an idiot. “Do you think the Turner is here?”

This time, Harry stopped completely, turning to frown at him. “Draco,” he said, calm but fierce at the same time. “I don’t think- that we should meddle with time. More than we already have, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Draco said, nodding. “No, yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I know I am,” Harry said, frown turning into a grin. “I always am.”

After a quick search, they found the diadem. Harry presented it to him with a grin, before hurriedly stuffing it into a bag woven of acromentula silk. “So,” Draco said. “How do we get rid of this?”

A wide, almost maniac smile, spread over Harry’s face. “Oh, I think I know how,” he replied.

“How?”

*

“No,” Draco said, and shook his head.

“Yes,” Harry said, and pushed him into the grimy, dirty slide.

A grimy, dirty slide that would lead him straight to a fifty-foot snake that could kill you by merely looking at you.

Draco screamed. Behind him, he could hear Harry’s wild laughter.

When Draco landed, it was on top of a pile of skeletons. Shuddering and yelping, he shot up to glare at Harry, who came just moments after himself. “What are you thinking?” he hissed. “There’s a basilisk in there!”

Rolling his eyes, Harry started to walk further into the wide tunnels. “Why do you think we’re here? Besides, I can talk to her. She probably won’t kill us.”

“Probably?” Draco wailed, hurrying after Harry. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Harry gave no other response beyond humming happily.

*

Hearing Harry have a conversation in Hiss, was… Draco couldn’t lie to himself, and he wasn’t stupid. He had felt aroused before, of course. He knew how it was.

So, yeah. He was… totally, one hundred per cent, turned on by Harry speaking Parselmouth.

The arousal was drowned in the pure terror, however, and Draco pressed his back flat against the wall behind him. He tried to stifle the whimpers, but he didn’t think he succeeded. At all.

After hissing back and forth with the snake for almost five minutes, Harry pulled out the diadem and the bag. He hissed some more, and then he stepped forward.

The snake opened its mouth, and Harry offered it the diadem. He wasn’t shaking, Draco noted, and Draco was probably more frightened for Harry’s life than Harry himself was.

“Oh, please be careful,” he muttered. “Please, please, please, please…”

The snake carefully accepted the diadem, and waited until Harry drew back before it snapped its mouth shut.

Draco squeaked. “Merlin,” he whispered. “It’s large. And venomous. And petrifies people.”

Harry, apparently having heard him, laughed. “Draco, come over here.”

“No!” Draco cried. “Absolutely not!”

“She won’t hurt you,” Harry insisted, beckoning him closer. “If you’re scared that she’ll petrify you, just close your eyes.”

“Can’t we just go?” Draco whined, but inched towards Harry, looking everywhere but at the basilisk.

When he came close enough, Harry reached out and grabbed his hand. Draco froze, world tilting and crashing for a fraction of a second, and then Harry pulled him over to the snake.

He pressed Draco’s palm flat against its skin. “See?” he whispered, removing his own hand.

Draco was still frozen, but because of a completely different reason this time. The snake was bending, shifting and moving underneath his touch. Living. Breathing. His breath came faster, but he didn’t dare move his hand. Instead, he released a high-pitched whine.

Harry laughed. “It’s not dangerous, Draco. She won’t hurt you.”

“Can’t we just go, now?” Draco whispered, feeling a warm pulse underneath his hand.

“Sure,” Harry said. “As long as we come back sometime soon.”

Draco nodded, and flinched away from the snake the moment Harry began moving. His palm still felt warm, and he hurried after Harry, who was nearing the exit.

The snake hissed something, and Harry hissed back.

This time, the terror wasn’t great enough to overshadow his arousal, and Draco screwed his eyes shut. What was going on in his life? What had he done?

*

Draco was cutting his potions ingredients’ aggressively. Why, you ask? Harry had partnered up with Neville, and was now ignoring Draco. It stung, if he were completely honest. He’d gotten used to spending time in Harry’s company, to have someone to talk to that was his own age. He’d gotten used to their unusual friendship, and now it felt like Harry was throwing it away.

To be fair, Draco knew that Harry wasn’t being a prat. It was, in fact, the opposite, and they’d had this discussion already. Four times, actually.

But Draco still felt… possessive? No, not quite. Jealous?

No, of course not. Draco Malfoy wasn’t jealous.

Right?

*

“When are we gonna kill him?” Draco hissed, a day when Quirrell had walked past them in the hallway and Harry had greeted him politely.

“He’s gonna try and steal the Philosophers Stone,” Harry muttered, gaze flickering for signs of anyone listening. No one were; they were still too young to be worth listening to, but Draco understood. Even though it wasn’t the war now, it had once been, and they had been living in the middle of it. They had been the war, and nobody who has felt the touch of war can forget it. “At the end of the year. We’ll get him then.”

Draco nodded stiffly. He had long past accepted that Harry was going to surprise him many times, so hearing about him stealing the stone didn’t do that much to him. “Will we kill Quirrell, too?”

Harry’s expression hardened with determination. “We have to. I don’t like it, but we have to.”

“Right,” Draco muttered. “Murderer at age eleven. Glorious.”

“Hey,” Harry spat. “I didn’t mean to kill him!”

Frowning, Draco stopped walking. “What are you talking about?”

Harry was scowling at him, jaws clenched and hands balled into fists at his side. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to protect myself! How was I supposed to know mom had left me with a protection?”

All the blood drained from Draco’s face. “What?” he whispered, in disbelief. “He died the first time around?”

The words had an immediate calming effect on Harry. “You didn’t know?” he asked, scowl softening to a mild glare. When Draco shook his head, he cursed lightly. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I thought you were…”

“Being a prat,” Draco finished. “I get it. It’s fine.”

“Are you su-”

“Apology accepted,” Draco said sternly, turning around and continuing to walk. “Have you done the Transfiguration assignment?”

Harry spluttered a bit, before he hurried after Draco, barely catching up with him before they rounded the corner. When Draco turned to look at him, he was smiling.

Good. They smiled so rarely these days.

*

Draco was running, a mad dash. His heart was hammering in his chest, his breath coming in sharp puffs tearing at his throat. He knew this feeling. Something was after him. Hunting him.

There were twigs snapping around him, and he had a leaf in his mouth. He didn’t have the time to spit it out, he just ran.

A desperate, coiling feeling twisted around in his stomach, much to his frustration. It was a dream. If he just woke up…

but he didn’t.

Okay so that scared him a little, usually when he thought about waking up he would wake up, but not this time, okay, fine-

Draco shot a look over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of what was following him. He had expected the Dark Lord, although he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been Dumbledore, or his father.

What he saw nearly caused him to fall over in shock. Harry? Why was Harry running after him? The boy was smiling, a wide, crazed smile. His eyes were bloodshot and red, with almost no trace of those green emeralds Draco knew so well. It didn’t seem like he’d showered in three weeks, his hair framing his face in thick laces. And… was that blood on his cheek?

Fear clawed at Draco’s chest, then, and some distant part of him realized that this wasn’t Harry. It looked like him, eerily so, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Draco’s Harry, and the realization ripped through him like the lovechild of a lightning bolt and an angry wave.

Someone shaking his shoulder gently tore Draco away from the nightmare, without any warning. “Draco,” a soft voice whispered. “Draco, wake up.”

The claws of fear still deep in his heart, Draco’s eyes snapped open, and he met Harry’s gaze. He was fully dressed and leaning over him, a hand on his shoulder and a spark in his eyes. There was no trace of Draco’s dream in that spark, just childish excitement and something softer than friendship.

Draco’s heartbeat calmed down, slowly, and he sat up. Harry’s fingers slipped from his shoulder, causing a cold tremble to shoot through Draco like ice. A deep, unconscious part of him wanted Harry to put his hand back on his shoulder, so he could feel the electric spark of warm skin against warm skin again. “Wh- what’s going on?” Draco asked. He was fully awake, even though he’d just been sleeping deeply. That was also something he’d learned during the war. Stay on your guard.

Harry’s eyes seemed to glow in the dimly lit room, and he smiled. “Let’s go flying,” he said, but moved to do nothing besides stare into Draco’s eyes.

His voice had a desperate edge to it, reminding Draco of a knife wrapped in cotton. Harry was begging Draco to understand. To understand why he wanted to go flying, why in the middle of the night, why now, why with him, why did he come with him, why he was tired of war, why, why, why-

And Draco understood.

*

The air, cold and crisp, bore hints of winter and snow. It wasn’t a surprise, not when it was late November. Though while the air was cold, it wasn’t too cold. Not yet.

The wind whipped at his face as Draco pressed himself flatter against the broom, daring it to go just a little bit faster, just a little bit higher. Beside him, Harry made a loud noise, but Draco couldn’t decide whether it was a sorrowful howl or a happy whoop.

Draco couldn’t bring himself to care, and let out his own loud noise. He got a feeling that it was more like a scream of pain than a sorrowful howl, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that, either. In that moment, all that mattered was Harry and he, side by side, far, far away from everything that caused them harm.

The sky was cloudy, and had been so the whole evening and night, so the Hogwarts grounds were plunged in darkness. There was only the light from some of the windows of the castle, and every now and then a star would blink at them from the sky.

This time it was the moon blinking down at them, dancing in patterns across Harry’s face and causing his eyes to shine darkly in the pale light.

Draco felt something flutter deep in his chest, and pressed himself even flatter against the broom, shooting off into the sky.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d fancied people before.

Draco knew what the flutter meant.

He couldn’t bring himself to care.

*

The next day, they were both tired. Harry was half-asleep when he walked out of the Main Hall after breakfast, and Draco was dragging his feet after himself. It certainly wasn’t strange that they weren’t very focused on where they were walking, or that they had short tempers this particular morning.

“They live in large nests,” Harry insisted, his voice nearly a growl.

Draco huffed, feeling anger boil in his stomach. “They do not,” he snapped. “They live in family groups, four or seven at a time! Harry, I know this!”

“Oh, yes,” Harry said, nodding in a very sarcastic way. “Because you’ve read about them.”

“Exactly!” Draco exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. Finally, Harry was understanding the truth of what Draco was saying. “What do you have? Nothing.”

Harry made an impatient sound. “I have real life experience of nearly dying! You’ve read an outdated book; I was there, speaking to their leader!”

Someone bumped into Harry’s shoulder, then, nearly knocking him over, and the two of them abruptly cut off their argument. “Hey!” Harry snapped at the ginger he’d bumped into. “Watch your step!”

“Says you,” snarled Ron Weasley, and Draco’s anger faded immediately. Fear took its place. Harry had managed to avoid his past friends up until now. How would he react? “Bloody traitor,” Weasley continued.

Harry gaped, and Draco could see pure terror in his eyes. “Wh- what?”

“You were supposed to be a Gryffindor!” Weasley cried, taking a step forward. He was nearly yelling into Harry’s face. “You were supposed to fight You-Know-Who! You were supposed to be good, not some- not some evil snake!”

“Hey,” Draco barked, not giving Harry the time to speak. “Don’t speak to him like that. You have no idea what he’s done for you, Weasel.”

Weasley gave a shrill shriek, attention snapping to Draco. “What he’s done for me?” he yelled. “I’ll show you what he’s done for me, bloody bastard!” Weasley leaped forward, fists raised and posed to fight.

Draco’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. He was prepared for Weasley to hit him, for the dull pain of a blow struck in anger, but no pain came. No, no pain came, because a wand was pressed against Weasley’s neck, and he had frozen just inches away from Draco.

“Don’t. Touch. Him,” Harry’s cool voice drawled, and Draco stumbled away from Weasley in shock. “Don’t you dare touch him, Ronald Weasley, or I will make you pay.”

Weasley ran, and when Draco turned to look at Harry, he understood why. There was a dark, raw anger in his eyes, and Draco got the impression of a wild, hot storm, ready to tear apart worlds.

For him. For Draco.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and Harry turned startled eyes towards him, the wild storm dying down. “For everything.”

Draco knew that Harry understood what he meant. Thank you for helping him. Thank you being there. Thank you for comforting him. Thank you for fighting, at least for a short while. Thank you for listening.

“For coming with me.”

Harry smiled. “I would’ve done it a thousand times more,” he said, and Draco got that fluttering feeling in his gut again.

He could bring himself to care, this time.

Draco smiled.

Chapter Text

“Can you see it?” Draco hissed, not once looking away from the staircase up to the Gryffindor Third Years Dorms.

Harry’s voice, muffled from underneath a bed, replied almost instantly. “No… it’s not under here.” Draco cursed. His eyes were beginning to hurt after staring for so long at absolutely nothing. “Uhm,” Harry said. “Draco. I’m stuck.”

Draco cursed again, hurrying over to his friend. “What have you done?” he whispered harshly, tearing of Harry’s invisibility cloak and crouching down to the legs sticking out from beneath the bed.

“No idea,” Harry replied. “Can you get me out? My wand’s stuck under my stomach and my arm’s twisted.”

Draco grumbled darkly under his breath, backed off, and grabbed Harry’s feet. “What’re you stuck in, anyways?” he asked, even as he pulled hard. Harry didn’t move, instead giving a startled squeak.

“That hurt,” he grunted. “Do not repeat.”

Biting his lip and backing further off, Draco frowned. “Right,” he said. “Then what do I do?”

“Maybe if I-”

Sudden steps interrupted him, and Draco moaned. “Someone’s coming,” he said. “Fuck.” Acting before thinking, he hurried to cover Harry’s legs with the invisibility cloak. “Don’t move,” he said, before diving behind a nightstand, crouching down and pulling his knees to his chest.

He could do this. The war had taught him how to hide, how to run, when to fail.

Pressing his face against his knees, Draco carefully controlled his breathing. It would do them no good if someone discovered him, but not Harry.

Someone entered the room, and Draco screwed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the wild beating of his heart. “That was wild,” a voice said, laughter laced with awe tainting it. “Did you see his face?”

Another voice laughed aloud. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Good job, Forge.”

“Good job, Gred.”

There was a sound as if someone slapped each other’s backs, and then squeaking, and Draco knew that the two people –the Weasley Twins- had just sat down on their beds.

Internally, Draco groaned.  How long were they going to stay there? How long was he going to have to crouch down behind a beside table? How long was Harry going to be stuck under a bed?

It mostly solved itself, when a soft “Stupefy,” followed by another “Stupefy,” was intoned. Then someone tapped Draco’s shoulder, and he looked up. Harry was standing above him, a small smile playing around the edges of his mouth. “You didn’t think of disillusioning yourself?”

“Shut up,” Draco complained meekly, slowly unbending his legs and standing up. “I was panicking. How did you get free?”

Harry shrugged, and moved over to rummage through one of the twin’s pockets. “Rolled under the bed and then out again. It worked.”

“Indeed,” Draco said, raising his eyebrows.

“A-ha!” Harry exclaimed, and pulled out a piece of parchment. “Found it!”

Draco sighed in relief, grabbed the invisibility cloak and made for the exit. “Great,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. There’s way too much red for my tastes. My eyes will soon start bleeding.”

Harry snorted, and followed after him through the door.

*

Draco was reading Jinx, Hex, Curse: Common and Uncommon, when Harry gasped loudly. “Draco,” he hissed, and Draco looked up at him. His eyes were wide, much wider than normal. “He’s moving in.”

The book fell to the floor. “What?” Draco breathed. His fingers were cold and numb, as if someone had stung him with a thousand needles. “But – I thought he weren’t moving before the end of the schoolyear?”

Harry hissed angrily and slid out of the bed. He pulled of his robes, leaving him in only a soft sweater and a pair of blue jeans. “He’s not,” he said, and grabbed his wand from his bedside table. “Take off your robes and get your wand, we gotta go, now.”

Draco nodded perplexedly, but shrugged out of his robes and ran after Harry. “It’s nearly midnight, Harry,” he said, when he finally caught up with the other boy. “Prefects?”

Harry’s eyes were ice cold, much like Draco’s shaking hands. “This is Voldemort we’re speaking off, Draco,” he said. “A Prefect won’t stop him. Therefore, it won’t stop us, either. All the Horcruxes are gone. It’s just him left.”

“Right,” Draco muttered. He drew his wand and cast a warming charm on his fingers, but it didn’t work much.

“You cold?” Harry asked, and his eyes melted. Draco shook his head in silent denial, but mere moments later a warm hand slipped into his. “I am,” Harry said, and looked away.

Draco said nothing about the fact that Harry’s hand felt like a volcano compared to his, and Harry didn’t say anything about his obvious lie, either.

Good. Draco didn’t want him to notice his blush, so it was great that he wasn’t looking at him. Good Harry, continue like tha-

1. Nevermind.

Harry snickered into his sleeve, and turned away again.

Draco pouted.

*

“Alohomora,” Harry whispered, and the lock slid open. “You have the flute?”

“The flute?” Draco asked, even as they walked into the room with the dog. “I thought you were supposed to bring the flute!”

“Me?” Harry hissed. “God Draco, I can’t believe you!”

Draco grinned sheepishly and tipped his head back to stare at the three dog heads snarling down at him. “Hi,” he said, and the dog barked loudly. Harry began to hum angrily, a song that Draco certainly didn’t know from before, and the dog’s eyes slowly slipped close. “Keep humming,” Draco whispered. “Come on.”

Harry muttered something darkly under his breath, and stepped aside to let Draco push the gigantic dog’s paw away from the trapdoor.

The darkness on the other side was absolute, and Draco stared into it. He felt like he was staring death straight into its eyes. “You sure about this?” he said, and looked up at Harry.

Harry frowned and nodded tightly. “Jump,” he sang. “Now, Draco, before he wakes up!”

Draco turned back to the overwhelming darkness, closed his eyes, and jumped.

Of course, Harry had described what would be waiting for them beneath the trapdoor, but Draco still wasn’t ready to land something soft and warm. He gave a soft exclamation, and two moments later, Harry landed in a heap next to him. Was this a – a plant? It was green, and smelled like dirt and dungeons- something vaguely resembling a tentacle wrapped around his feet, and Draco yelped. “Devils Snare!” he said, looking up at Harry with startled eyes.

The other boy rolled his eyes. “Just like I told you,” he muttered. “Anything else to add, genius?”

Draco scowled and fished for his wand, but Harry was two steps ahead of him. A bright, blue flame sprouted from the tip of his wand, and the Devils Snare twisted away from them.

“Okay, come on,” Harry said, and jumped to his feet. “We don’t have much time.”

Accepting the hand Harry reached out for him, Draco was pulled to his feet. “Let’s go, then,” he said, and they both ran into the next room. It was much brighter, and filled with the soft sound of fluttering wings. “…keys,” Draco deadpanned. “Which one?”

Harry squinted for a moment. “That one,” he said, and pointed into the mess of flying keys. “Or – no, nevermind, that one – it’s moving, now I can’t see it – alright let’s just grab the broomsticks and go.”

Draco hurried over to pick a broomstick. He sneered at it. “Such bad quality,” he grumbled. “A Firebolt would at least have been decent.”

“They’re not going to be made for yet three more years, Draco,” Harry pointed out, and grabbed his own broom. “The key we want is old, silver, and already has a broken wing.”

They looked at each other, nodded, and shot off from the ground. “Right,” Draco muttered. “You have any tips on how to?”

“We gotta corner it,” Harry said, and sped up. “You go from below or left, I go from above or right. Got it?”

“Got it.”

They flew, and soon it became obvious that the easiest part was to find the key. Due to mistakes made on Harry’s part, misunderstandings between themselves, and a smart move from the key, it took them nearly eight tries to catch it.

But then Draco’s hand smacked into the stonewall, wings fluttering defeated beneath his palm. “I got it,” he breathed. “I got it!”

“Thank God,” Harry muttered. “Come on, come on, come on!” He shot for the floor and jumped off the broom when it was close enough to do so safely.

Draco waited until his feet touched ground before he slid of, but then he ran over to the door. The soft click of the door unlocking was like music to Draco’s ears. “There’s a chessboard on the other side, right?” he said, just as the door swung open to relieve, you guessed it, a large chessboard. “Well, why don’t we just grab the broomsticks and fly over?”

Harry froze, and Draco immediately regretted his words. He’d probably said something stupid, then, and now Harry was even more on edge than he had been from before. Draco opened his mouth and prepared himself to apologize, but Harry turned around, and the stars were in his eyes. “That’s brilliant, Draco,” he said, and grinned. “Change of plans, we’re not playing chess, we’re flying.”

They raced back into the room, got onto the broomsticks, and saved a lot of time on just flying over the chessboard. The pieces didn’t even seem to notice them, and Draco let out a relieved breath when their feet once more touched stone floor. “Thanks, Draco,” Harry said, and squeezed his hand.

The troll in the next room was already knocked out, thank Merlin, and then they entered what Draco recognized as Snape’s room. “Damnit,” Harry muttered. “I don’t remember which one’s right.” He walked over to the table and went to pick up the piece of paper resting there, when Draco frowned and stopped him.

“What’re we looking for?”

Harry put down the piece of paper and turned trusting eyes on him. “Well, there’s two filled with wine, three with poison, one with a potion that allows you to go forward, and one with a potion that allows you to go back again.”

Nodding once, Draco walked over to the table and picked up the bottle furthest to the right. He unscrewed it and peered into the bottle, inhaling the scent of the liquid inside as he did so. “Hm,” he said. “Not wine, not poison. It either gets us back or forward.”

Harry frowned. “I… think it gets us back. It’s pretty large, and I remember the one to get us forward was small.”

“How small?”

Harry gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t remember,” he said. “Sorry.”

Draco bit his lip, and turned back to the table. “Well, there’s one way to find out.” Harry perked up. “Do you know any good healing spells for burns?”

Five minutes later, Draco was staring at his hand. “Alright, so we know where this one takes us,” he said, and put the bottle back on the table. “Back.”

Harry, who’d been watching worriedly, sagged in relief. “Okay, then what about the rest?” A quick check found that it was the smallest bottle of the whole lot that would bring them forward, and Draco caught Harry staring at it with a pained expression. “There’s not enough for both,” he said. “It’s barely a mouthful.”

“Harry,” Draco said, and took a step forward. He grabbed the bottle from Harry’s hands and set it down on the table. Eyes like the sky on a stormy day locked with emerald greens, and Draco put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “There is enough,” he said. “There is always enough for us both. Always, you hear me?”

“I’ll drink first,” Harry said, after the first few moments of silence passed. “Then you.”

Draco nodded once, then took a step back. “Don’t you dare drink it all, Potter. I’m watching you.”

Harry smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Fine.” He put the bottle to his lips and drank, then handed it over to Draco.

Draco chugged down the rest, and ice shot through his veins. He shuddered and let out a small gasp, but waved away Harry’s worried hand. “It’s fine,” he said. “Just – surprised, is all.”

Reluctantly, Harry took his hand and walked through the black flames leading to Quirrel – and with him, Voldemort.

Chapter Text

Quirrel did not even turn around upon their entrance. He simply glanced at their reflections, grinned, and spoke. “Ah, Harry Potter…” he drawled. “The-Boy-Who-Lived. And your silly, young friend, Draco Malfoy. How… predictable.” Quirrel snarled the last word, and his hands twisted into claws for a moment before his fingers straightened out again.

“Dropt the act, Quirrel,” Harry said, and his voice could have cut through steel. It was cold like a winter storm and hard like the skin of a victim, and Draco had to suppress a shudder. “We’re not here to talk to you.”

Quirrel raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh?” he said. “Whomever are you here to talk to, then, if not me?”

Harry’s face was emotionless and his voice flat when he replied. “The Dark Lord at the back of your head, of course.”

Quirrel stiffened. “I have no idea what you-”

Draco recognized the next voice from his nightmares. It bounces off the walls and cut deep into his heart, tore at the scabs of barely-healed wounds and laughed when he bled. It was the voice of a demon.

It was the voice of the Dark Lord.

“You know of me, boy?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

Draco was honestly terrified. This was the strongest wizard for centuries he were facing, after all. But then again, he had the comforting presence of a friend next to him, and when that friend was Harry-Bloody-Potter, it was a very comforting presence. So Draco decided to lie, just a tiny bit. “And we’re not afraid of you,” he spat, taking a step forward.

The Dark Lord laughed. It was a horrible laugh, that made the blood of innocents crawl and the fears of sinners float to the surface of their minds. “Let me speak to them, Quirrel.”

“Master,” Quirrel complained, and Draco was astonished to hear a whine in his voice. “You’re not strong enough-”

“Now, Quirrel!”

Quirrel obeyed. He began to unwrap the purple turban from his head, and – while Harry had told Draco what to expect, it was still a shock and a horror to see it with his own eyes. Bloodshot, wide eyes, a thin line for a mouth, cracked and dry skin…

this was the Dark Lord? This was what he had been reduced to? Draco wanted to laugh. This was not the terrifying wizard he’d never gotten used to having around in his own home. This wasn’t the wizard that brought him nightmares, to this day. This was not the Dark Lord Voldemort.

This was the vulnerable shell of a fool.

“Damn,” Harry said. “You’re even more hideous than I remembered.”

If Voldemort had been planning to say something to either of them, he changed his plans upon hearing that comment. He snarled, and Quirrel’s wrist twisted, and suddenly there was a wand pointed straight at them. “Crucio!” he cried.

Harry dodged the curse easily, and now his eyes were… happy? Singing in a sick kind of joy? Maybe that was what raw hope looked like on Harry’s face, but Draco couldn’t know. On anyone else, he would say that it was a maniac madness, but this was Harry Potter.

One could never be sure about anything concerning Harry Potter.

“Oh, so you jump straight to the fighting part?” Harry asked, dodging another spell Quirrel shot his way. “Not really my style, but you do you. Now, Draco!”

Jumping into action, Draco raised his wand and cried “Reducto!” He was capable of doing it silently, at least most of the time, but now he screamed it as loud as he could. Make your enemy underestimate you, his Father’s words rung in his ears. And they will be in for an unpleasant surprise.

The unpleasant surprise would come, Draco hoped, and crouched to dodge the cutting charm aimed for his neck. “Watch the boy!” came Voldemort’s high-pitched voice, and Quirrel spun.

He completely missed Harry sneaking up to the Mirror of Erised, thankfully, and Draco smirked. “Which one!?” Quirrel shrieked.

The sound of shattering glass told Draco that the Mirror was broken. The Philosopher’s Stone was now gone forever. Nicholas Flamel would just have to die.

So would Voldemort.

“Idiotic boy!” Voldemort sneered, and Quirrel turned so that his master could look Harry in the eye. “Do you have any idea of what you just did!?”

Harry’s face was cool and controlled again, but Draco could feel his magic pulsing through the room, raw and wild and deep, and he allowed himself a moment to enjoy it. “Of course,” Harry said, and a small smile played around the corners of his mouth. “Why do you think I did it?”

Quirrel snarled, a vicious expression best fit on the face of an animal. He raised his wand and aimed it at Harry’s face, his lips forming the words of a familiar, green spell-

Draco’s breath hitched. He bent down, picked up a rock that had come loose when he cast the reducto, and threw it at Quirrel’s face.

It hit home, successfully shutting the man up as he spun to scowl fiercely at Draco. “Expelliarmus,” Harry said, softly, and Quirrel’s wand shot away from him and smacked into Harry’s open palm.

“You foolish boy,” Voldemort said darkly. “Do you really believe that will stop me?”

“No,” Harry said, the honestly clear in his face. “But this will.”

And with that, he lunged forward and pressed his palms flat against Voldemort’s face. Quirrel let out a piercing scream as he burned on the inside. The smell of burned flesh almost immediately filled the air, and Draco gagged.

“What is happening!?” Voldemort yelled. “What have you done, boy!?”

Harry smiled, the sharp smile of a predator catching its prey. Draco slowly walked up to his side. Quirrel’s screams were duller now, and Draco instantly knew that he was fading away.

“You have one soul, Voldemort. Soon you will have-”

Draco never got to finish, because Voldemort cried out, “Avada Kadavra!” and Harry fell to the floor in a pile.

The world –

screeched to a halt, tilted, began to spin the other way –

 and Draco’s heart screamed in fury and pain. Draco only realized that he was screaming, too, when his throat ached almost as much as his chest. “How dare you,” Draco screamed, just as Quirrel fell to the ground in a pile of ashes.

And then Harry sat up, looked at the shadow that was Voldemort’s spirit, and said, “Are you still alive?”

There was utter silence for two seconds, and then Voldemort sneered. “I will find a way to kill you, Harry Potter. This is not over.” Draco opened his mouth and was about to say something, but Voldemort did so before he could. “We shall meet again.”

Harry, who had stood up, nodded seriously. “Sure, Tom. See you in hell.”

Before Voldemort’s spirit could disappear – or whatever spirits did – Draco aimed his wand and uttered the old, Norwegian spell he’d found in Jinx, Hex, Curse; Common and Uncommon.

“Djevil ihjå myrkjet, eg lysar deg i bann! Forsvinn ifrå ditta land, kom aldreg tilbakje!”

Voldemort’s spirit shrieked, and then it was gone. Gone forever, if one were to trust the old spell. Harry’s shoulder slumped. “You did it,” he said, and his voice echoed horribly when the danger was gone. “He’s gone.”

“We did it,” Draco corrected. “We couldn’t have done it without each other.”

Harry sat down heavily on the floor and released a shaky breath. When Draco turned to frown in worry at him, his face was expressionless, yet painfully many emotions could be seen there, if one knew what to look for. “It’s over,” Harry whispered. “He’s dead.”

Much to Draco’s shock, he burst into loud, painful sobs. Draco stared at him for a moment, but he couldn’t figure out why he was crying now, of all times. Was it an after effect of taking a Killing Curse to the chest? Shock? Pain at being a murderer, again?

“That was my whole life, Draco,” Harry choked out. “It’s over. What I’ve been trained for my whole life. It’s over. What do I do, Draco?”

And Draco understood.

He took the last three steps separating them and sat down in front of Harry. Draco didn’t wait for a reaction in his friend, he just reached out and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight. “We live, Harry,” Draco said, quietly so his voice wouldn’t echo, and Harry returned the embrace just as fiercely. “We live.”

Time passed. Draco wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point Harry fell asleep in his arms. Maybe he fainted? Draco didn’t know, and he wasn’t keen on figuring it out, either. His muscles complained when he stood up. There was an ache deep in his bones, but he was used to that.

He didn’t think, not really, while he walked back to the room with the potion vials. He took a sip from the potion that would take him back, and then pressed it to Harry’s lips. When he was sure that he’d gotten some of it inside of his mouth, they passed through the red flames.

The chessboard was still when he walked across it, even though he could feel the pawn’s eyes on him all the while. The air was cold against his skin, the Kings silent when he entered their domain. Maybe they knew he didn’t want to steal no stone. Maybe they felt that a great evil was now gone from the world. Maybe they were spelled to just attack when someone entered from the other door.

Draco used s broomstick to get Harry and him out of the trapdoor. They were both eleven year old in body, if not in soul, and eleven year olds are light. The broom carried them easily, and Draco buried his face in Harry’s black mop of hair.

He sang a song his Mother had learned him in another life, when he was twelve and couldn’t fall asleep at night. The giant dog calmed down almost instantly, and Draco quietly exited the third floor corridor.

When out in the hallway again, Draco sank down to his knees. He carefully placed Harry down in front of him on the floor.

Small cuts littered his face, and his clothes were ruined. There was blood smeared on his left sleeve, and his hair was gray with dust.

Draco had nearly lost him today. He had lost him, for ten long seconds. He knew he had. He’d felt the second heartbeat within his own fade away. He’d heard the calm breathing still. Draco wasn’t about to complain, Merlin no, but he just… didn’t understand why Harry was alive. How could he? Why would he be alive?

Shaking his head, Draco returned his attention to Harry. His expression was calm, and for once he actually looked like an eleven year old. Draco knew, however, that the moment he opened his eyes they would reveal horror and pain and sorrow.

Draco slowly reached out and pushed aside Harry’s bangs. The lightening scar shone up at him, blistered, red and bleeding. As he watched, it slowly healed itself. The blood was just blood. The scar was just that. A scar. It would never open up again. Never bleed.

Now that he thought about it, something was different in the hallway. Just a slightly… off feeling about the whole thing. The air seemed lighter. As if killing Voldemort had cleansed the whole world –

or maybe it had just cleansed Harry.

“Oh,” Draco said. “Oh.”

Harry had been a Horcrux.

Draco leaned down and pressed his lips to the lightening scar. “He’ll never touch you again,” he muttered. “No one will hurt you while I’m here, Harry. I promise.”

Harry’s eyelids twitched, as if he’d somehow heard him, and Draco carefully lifted him into his arms again. “And you have to eat more,” Draco quietly scolded. “You’re lighter than a six year old, for Merlin’s sake.”

He was exhausted, both magically and physically, but Draco didn’t notice. He didn’t notice the pain in his joints either, or the crick in his neck. How could he notice such mundane things like that, when he had to get Harry back to the dungeons?

Remembering the Invisibility Cloak, Draco pulled it out of a magically expanded pocket. He threw it over them, and after that, it was fairly easy to get back into the Slytherin Dormitories. “Thank Merlin it’s weekend tomorrow,” Draco muttered, and collapsed into Harry’s bed, right next to him. He didn’t even have the strength to get up and into his own bed. Well, as long as Harry was safe. As long as they would both live to see another day.

And they would. Draco would make sure of that.

Chapter Text

Draco slowly blinked his eyes open. Everything hurt, from deep inside his bones to the very tips of every single strand of hair. He groaned, quietly, and made to roll over. An arm slung over his stomach stopped him, however, and he froze.

Oh.

Harry had apparently grabbed hold of him while sleeping, and had now snuggled up to his side with a small smile.

Oh.

Draco’s lips quivered, and a warm flush rose in his chest. Carefully, he laid his head down on the bed again, and drew Harry closer. He could let himself have this moment.

Harry let out a content sigh, and, while still being asleep, nuzzled Draco’s neck.

Draco would let them both have this moment of peace, he decided, and smiled into Harry’s hair.

But of course. Moments of peace never lasted long around Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, and the world would remind them of that soon.

But for now, they slept.

Chapter Text

“Draco,” Harry said, Monday morning at breakfast. “We’re breaking into Azkaban.”

One moment, Draco was chewing on a slice of toast, and the next, he had fallen off the bench. The stone floor was cold through his robes, and Draco stared up at the underside of the table. “Harry,” he said, loud enough for Harry to hear. Draco waited for the other boy to slide down from the bench and crawl under the table before he continued. “One day you will have to stop surprising me.”

Harry snorted, and Draco shook his head.

“Seriously,” he said. “This cannot possibly be healthy. Look at how I’m lying! My back can’t take this all the time!”

Harry laughed. “Your snotty back is this straight all the time. Seriously, you look like you’re about to take over the world any moment.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry the best he could from his position. “Says you,” he said.

“What?”

Draco rolled around and sat up. “No, it’s just this look in your eyes that says bow to my feet and tremble in terror. Or is it just me?”

Harry grinned, and opened his mouth as if to answer, when Dumbledore’s voice sounded through the room. Draco and Harry shared a look, and then they hurried to crawl onto the benches again. “Students,” Dumbledore called, and there was no twinkle in his eyes today. “All Defense Against the Dark Arts classes are cancelled for today. Professor Quirrel has gone missing, and is therefore not capable of teaching. If anyone knows anything about his disappearance, please speak with your Head of House.”

The Hall exploded in chattering, both worried, unsure, and amused. Someone said, from down the table, that “Damn, the curse is working fast this year.”

Draco turned wide eyes to Harry, who stared back calmly. He hadn’t thought about that. “Do we tell him?” Draco asked, leaning forward on the table to speak in hushed tones.

“Don’t be stupid,” Harry scoffed, and Draco nodded. What had he been thinking? Two first years, defeating Voldemort? Snape would think they were crazy! “Of course we tell him,” Harry continued, and Draco nodded again.

“Of course we – wait, what?”

“Come on, Draco. It’ll be fun! Besides, if it doesn’t get out that Voldemort is gone, I’ll be haunted for quite a few years,” Harry pointed out. “If you wanna be left out of it, then sure. But I have to tell him that old Voldie is dead. For sure, this time.”

Draco sat back in his seat and thought. Putting aside the fact that Harry had just called the Dark Lord Voldemort old Voldie, that sentence had been unsettling. But he knew what to say. He would always know what to say. “I’m not going to be left out, Harry. No fucking way.”

“Good,” Harry said, and smiled a smile that could compete with the sun. “Then let’s go talk with him later today. After charms?”

“Okay,” Draco said weakly. “Okay, that’s – that’s good. That’s fine.” Oh Merlin stop smiling like that Harry I can’t take it stop stop stop-

“Then that’s settled,” Harry nodded. “Now, back to what I was saying earlier – breaking into Azkaban.”

“Damnit,” Draco groaned, and slammed his fist onto the table. “I knew I’d forgotten something!” There was utter silence for a few moments, while Harry and Draco simply stared at each other. “All right, fine, you got me,” Draco sighed. “Why are we breaking into Azkaban?”

“Sirius,” Harry said.

“Serious what? Serious… problems? Serious bad guys?”

“No,” Harry scoffed. The corner of his mouth twitched, but Draco didn’t see what was so funny. “Sirius as in Sirius Black, your cousin.”

“Ah, yes,” Draco said. “Sirius Black, my – wait, he’s my cousin?”

Harry let out a long-suffering sigh and rubbed his temples. “Yes, Draco, he’s your cousin. Anyway. He’s innocent. We’re breaking into Azkaban to free him.”

“Aha,” Draco said, and nodded slowly. “Why are we discussing this… in the Main Hall?”

“Ever heard of Privacy Wards, Draco?” Harry deadpanned.

Draco flushed. “Of course,” he said. “I just. Didn’t think you were smart enough to think of one.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “We defeated Voldemort the other day, and you don’t think I’m smart enough to think of a Privacy Ward.”

“Mhm. Yup.”

Smiling, Harry shook his head and returned to his food. “Anyway, again. Sirius is still in there, and he’s innocent. We’re getting him out. Or maybe we should just catch Pettigrew?”

Draco, who’d already heard this story three times in the middle of the night, snorted. “The old hag Dumbledore won’t allow anything to happen. Black will go straight back into jail or something.”

Harry grimaced. “You’re right. We’re breaking in, then.” There was a pause. “How’s your Patronus?”

*

“Harry, do we really have to do this?”

Harry crossed his arms and glared. “Has a Dementor ever attacked you?” he asked.

“Well – not really, but-”

“Right, then.” Harry’s glare softened to a slightly stern look, and he sighed softly. “Draco, you don’t know what it’s like. They suck out all your happiness. You remember, and you remember everything. With-” He paused to grimace. “With a history like ours… it won’t be hard to break you.”

Draco swallowed and looked down at the floor. “Right,” he said. “Sorry. I should listen to you.”

“Damn right you should,” Harry said. “Now, remember that when you’re standing face to face with a Dementor, this won’t be as easy as it will be now. It’ll be close to impossible, in fact, if you have no experience in the field.”

Draco nodded, sharply, and drew his wand. “The incantation is Expecto Patronum, right?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “But that’s not all. Your Patronus draws on your happiness. To make it work, you have to think happy thoughts.”

Draco stared. “Seriously?” Harry shrugged. “Fine,” Draco sighed. “Happy thoughts. I can do that. I think.”

Happy thoughts? Rainbows. Unicorns. Joy. Blood of my enemies.

“Expecto Patronum.”

Nothing. Harry raised an eyebrow. “What did you think about?”

Draco flushed. “Uhm. Rainbows?”

“What the fuck.”

“And unicorns. Don’t forget the unicorns.”

Harry sighed and rubbed at his temples again. “No, Draco,” he moaned. “No. Not happy thoughts – more like a happy memory. Your happiest memory.”

“Oh,” said Draco. “Yes. That makes more sense.”

He thought of the Manor during winter, gray and white and dark and pure, the snow covering the landscape like a blanket. The sun, reflecting in the thin ice on top of the lake in the Gardens. Mother, handing him a cup of hot chocolate, and Father, smiling thinly at him.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A soft, milk colored mist shot out of Draco’s wand. Pride surged in his chest, and he grinned happily. He’d done it! Fair enough, it wasn’t corporeal, but it was still there!

Harry tsk-ed. “Not good enough,” he said. “Against a Dementor it won’t do anything at all.”

Draco scowled. “Fine,” he muttered. “So I’ll have to find something happier than the Manor?”

“Either that,” Harry said with a shrug. “Or you need to use more force.”

Both, a voice whispered in Draco’s mind. You’re too weak. More force. More happiness.

Alright, Draco thought, and rolled his shoulders. More happiness. I can do that.

And suddenly it hit him, that his happiest memories weren’t from the Manor, or Mother, or Father.

It was of Harry.

Draco closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and summoned his memories.

Green eyes sparkling in the dead of night. A heavy weight in his arms. A soft murmur from the bed next over. A laughing mouth, ignorant of the horrors laying within. Water glistening under the moon and a giggling boy, an angel and demon combined.

Draco saw the world in his eyes. There were galaxies, and moons, and stars. There was hope in Harry’s eyes, even if he couldn’t see it himself, and Draco smiled.

“Expecto Patronum!” Draco cried, and an animal came to life within mist the color of moonlight. A fox.

He’d done it. He’d really done it.

“Good job, Draco!” Harry cheered, and Draco slowly let his hand return to his side. The fox faded away, and Draco blinked hard. “That was actually kind of fast. Now, do it again.” When Draco cast him a sour look, Harry shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, but you gotta practice this.”

Draco raised his wand and called on hid memories again.

He’d do it for Harry. He’d do it all for Harry.

*

“You ready?” Harry whispered.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Draco said, and raised his chin.

This was it. They were coming out. They would reveal their secret to the world – or at least tell it to someone they maybe could trust. “Fine, then,” Harry said, and knocked on the door to Professor Snape’s office.

After a few moments, the door swung open. Snape’s dark glare met them. “Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter. What do you want?”

“Professor,” Harry said. “We have information regarding Professor Quirrel, sir.”

There was a moment where Snape stared coldly at them, and then he opened the door wider. “Very well,” he said. “What do you know?”

Draco and Harry exchanged a look, and they sat down in two of the three chairs in front of Snape’s desk. “I think it would be best,” Harry said, softly, and looked directly into Snape’s eyes. “If you were to use legilimency, professor.”

Snape, never one to reveal emotions beside disgust and anger, sneered. “And why is that?”

“You would not feel inclined to believe us, sir, if we only told you the story,” Draco said, and when Snape turned his Death Glare at him, Draco met his eyes with an air of indifference.

There was a not-so-gentle probing at his occlumency shields, and Draco lowered them quickly, before Snape would realize they were anything more than an instinctive protection.

He thought of That Night, of sneaking out of bed, of humming angrily and Devil Snare’s and flying through the air. He thought of horrors best remain unspoken, of spells and hexes and a shattering mirror. Of Harry dying and then living again, of Quirrel burning from the inside out.

Of Voldemort screaming.

Then suddenly, Draco was back in the classroom again, and Snape flinched away from his. His face was ashen and pale, his eyes wide and almost frightened. “What are you?” he whispered, and drew his wand.

“Sir,” Harry said. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here because we want peace.”

Snape shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Look me in the eye,” Harry said, calmly. “And you will know.” Snape seemed conflicted, though he of course would never admit that out loud. Harry smirked. “I didn’t think you were a coward, Snivellus.”

Snape paled drastically again. “How do you-”

“Look me in the eye,” Harry interrupted, still and calm and dark as the sea at midnight. “And you will know.”

Snape met his gaze.

Time seemed to stretch on into infinity, and Draco closed his eyes and shuddered. Rationally, he knew that he was not alone in this room, but... somehow, his heart didn’t believe his brain. It was almost like… there were two zombies in there, with him, instead of two living, breathing people.

Snape suddenly snapped back to himself, and his knuckles turned white. “Get out,” he said, quietly.

“Sir-” Draco said, not really understanding what just happened.

Snape slowly turned his head to look at him, and his eyes burned like ambers in the dead of night. “Get. Out,” he sneered. “Now!”

Harry stood up, bowed, and left the room. Draco hurried after him.

“We shouldn’t have trusted him,” Draco groaned.

“Why do you say that?” Harry asked. “He won’t go babbling. He just needs some time.”

“How do you know?”

Harry smirked. “Well, I would certainly need some time to process the fact that you own underwear with small hearts on.”

Draco gasped. “               What? You – did you – why-”

Harry laughed, and slapped his arm. “I’m kidding, Draco! I didn’t show him that. As if I’d endanger myself like that,” he said, and rolled his eyes. “But really, though. He just needs some time to process what he just learned.”

Draco was silent for a moment. “Do you… do you think that he believes us?”

Harry snorted. “He kind of has to. He’ll only be denying the truth if he doesn’t, and he knows it. He believes us, Draco. I know he does.”

Draco frowned, but nodded nonetheless. “Alright,” he said. “If you say so.”

*

Draco was going to die. This was it. This was the end. He’d die while sitting on the floor, in absolute silent, and he wouldn’t even be able to blame someone.

Holy shit but meditating was boring. He just – couldn’t do this! Breathe in, breathe out… why do you have to think about it? Breathing happens – automatically, why would you –

Draco leaned forward and groaned internally. While he wasn’t enjoying this, Harry was – or at least he was getting something done, Draco thought, and looked over at him with a frown. His expression was peaceful again, in a way that it so rarely was nowadays. His chest heaved with each breath he drew, and Draco could tell that he was doing it unconsciously – which meant that his mind was elsewhere.

Draco shook his head slightly and scratched at his forehead. He had promised to help Harry doing this, goddamnit, and he would not back out. Well, not that he was helping that much, but – Harry’d said that it was enough that he was there.

So as long as Draco was there, and didn’t disturb him, and let him try and find his Animagus Form – then it would be fine, right?

…why did Harry want Draco to be there? What could Draco possibly do to help him, when he was just… sitting there, doing absolutely nothing?

Draco leaned forward and stared intently at Harry, narrowing his eyes and thinking hard. Could it be because he somehow… knew he was there? Felt it, and was calmed down by his presence?

A flush creeped up Draco’s neck and he tore his gaze away. No, his feelings were rushing ahead of him again. He was seeing shadows where there was nothing to cast one to begin with.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. You can do this, he thought angrily. You will do this.

Chapter Text

Draco stared as Harry stretched his arms above his head, and then as he bent over to the side. His joints popped, and he sighed blissfully before straightening up again. “Uh,” Draco said. “Which animal should I expect?”

“A snake,” said Harry.

Draco blinked. “I would say that I’m surprised, but that would be a lie.” Harry pouted at him, and Draco snickered. “Alright, so what’s my job?”

“You’re here as a witness,” Harry said. “So your job is to make sure that I don’t get hurt, and help me if I do.”

“Uhm,” said Draco. “How do I know if you are?”

Harry smiled. “You’ll know,” he said, quietly, and then he transformed.

It was a magnificent sight, Draco thought, as he shielded his eyes. He’d seen an Animagus transformation before, but not when it was someone’s first time. A bright light pierced through the air, and it all happened slow enough for him to actually see what was going on.

And then there was a snake on the floor in front of him, coiled up and looking quite pleased with itself. The snake was, from what Draco could tell, about 15 inches long, and had the same color as sand. And-

Draco snorted, and slapped a hand over his mouth. It didn’t help, though, and he couldn’t keep the laughter in. Snake-Harry gave him an offended look, and Draco laughed even harder. “You look like a sock-puppet,” he gasped through his giggles, and snake-Harry’s offended look hardened. A moment later, and Harry was standing there, with his ruffled dark hair and gleaming green eyes.

“Hilarious,” he growled, and held out his arms. For what, Draco didn’t know. Oh, he thought, a moment later, when a thick book materialized out of thin air. “Here you go,” Harry said, and thrusted the book at Draco’s chest. “Find out what I am.”

“What?” Draco spluttered, and turned around to follow Harry with his gaze as he trotted over to a table. “Why me?”

“I’ve got homework to do,” Harry said, and sat down. “Besides, I don’t know how I look.”

Draco grumbled darkly under his breath, but sat down opposite of Harry. He opened the old book and began to read.

Forty-two minutes later, Draco exclaimed in surprise. Harry looked up from his Potions book with a raised eyebrow. “I found you,” Draco explained. “The Arabian Sand Boa is relatively harmless,” he read, and snorted. “Sad. You’re also… around 15 inches, pretty slow, mostly nocturnal, you got no magical powers, and… oh. You have a choking kink.”

Harry spluttered. “Do not!” he cried.

“Says so right here,” Draco shrugged. “Alright, so it says that you choke your prey to death. Basically the same thing. Please don’t kill me,” he added, when he noticed that Harry’s left eye was twitching dangerously.

Harry closed his eyes and counted quietly to ten. “No magical uses at all?” he asked, when he finally opened his eyes again.

“Uh,” Draco said, and leaned over the book again. “Your scales can be used in a variety of healing potions, I guess?”

“So nothing really harmful?” Harry asked, sounding terribly disappointed. “There’s not much I can strangle when I’m only around 15 inches.”

“Nope, sorry,” Draco said, and shut the book with a smack. Harry shook his head, and the book disappeared with a pop.

Harry sighed. “Oh well,” he muttered, and bent over his homework again. “At least I know my form, now. You only gotta exercise your Patronus a bit more, and then… we’re ready.”

Draco immediately sobered up. “Azkaban,” he whispered. “I’d nearly forgotten.”

Harry smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.

*

“Okay, now add the crushed moonshade leaves,” Draco hissed. Harry threw the deep blue dust into the cauldron, and Draco hurried to stir clockwise three times.

The potion changed colors and gave a little puff of smoke.

Draco smiled a tired smile, and leaned back in his chair.

“Did we do it?” Harry whispered. “Is it the right color?”

Draco’s tired smile morphed into a slightly terrified frown, and he pulled the potions recipe closer to skim it. “Color and consistence?” he asked quietly.

“Uh,” said Harry. “Dark red and thick?”

“We did it,” Draco said. “Haha! We did it!”

Harry smiled widely. “Really? We did it?”

“We did it!” Draco whisper-yelled. “That’s a really complicated potion, Harry, and we did it!”

Harry laughed, as quietly as he could. Snape stood up from his desk in a quick motion. He scowled at the class, and with a sharp flick of his wand the instructions on the board were wiped away.“Oh, and just in time, too,” Harry said.

“The class has ended,” Snape drawled. “Hand in a sample of your potion and move on.”

“Quick, grab a bottle fr-” Draco said, but before he could finish his sentence Harry shoved a potions vial into his face. “Oh.”

“One step ahead of you, genius,” Harry grinned. Draco, feeling quite sheepish, filled the vial with the thick potion and went to hand it in. Harry waited for him at their table, but before they could get out of the classroom, Snape spoke up.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. You will stay.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Draco said. “We have Transfiguration now.”

Snape slowly raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Of course, my mistake,” Draco said, and hurried over to Snape’s desk.

So, it seemed that Snape was going to start speaking to them again. Thank Merlin they hadn’t scared him off. “Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy,” Snape drawled, scowling at them from his side of the desk. He always scowled. Merlin, cheer up a bit! “What do you expect me to do with this newfound information?”

“Sorry, sir,” Harry said. “What kind of information are you talking about?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “You do not wish to discuss it, then,” he concluded.

“With all due respect, sir,” Harry said. “Discuss… what?”

Draco kept his expression as blank as he could, but on the inside, he was frowning hard and looking at Harry as if he had gone utterly bonkers. Damnit, Harry, would you share your plans with me once in a while?

Snape seethed quietly, and gave a slow sigh. “Fine. What do you expect me to do with the information of the Dark Lord’s… unfortunate… demise?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry said, and leaned back in his seat, clearly comfortable under the Death Glare of their potions Professor. “What do you want to with it?”

“The… obvious choice would be to go to the Headmaster,” Snape sneered. “However I am not sure what to tell him. Two first years defeated the Dark Lord?” He scoffed. “Even if the prophecy did come true in the end, it would not please him.”

Wait, what? Prophecy?

Goddamnit, Harry!

Draco chose to stay quiet for now, even though Harry shot him a nervous glance. “Tell him what happened the first time around, then. Sir. If the defeat of Voldemort will not please him, then surely rambles of love will.”

Snape held Harry’s gaze for a moment. Draco was breaking down, slowly, but he dared not interrupt this moment between the two other wizards. “Very well,” Snape finally said. “I will do that, Potter.”

With a curt nod, Harry rose from his chair. Draco hurried to stand up, too, but Snape decided to speak up before they could move to open the door. “And do not worry. Your secret is safe with me. It is the last I can do, when you have done so much.”

Harry smiled, bowed, and left the room. “Er,” Draco said. “I’ll just – yeah, I, uhm. Bye. Sir.” He nearly sprinted out from the room, and the moment the door shut behind him, he turned around and glared at Harry. “I thought you trusted me,” Draco snarled. “I thought you’d told me what happened! I thought you shared your plans with me!” For every word, Harry winced. His shoulders rose protectively, and he refused to even look in Draco’s direction. “I’ve done so much for you! I even gave you this opportunity!” Draco inhaled sharply, and shook his head. “I trusted you, Harry.”

Draco turned around and started walking in the general direction of… well, he wasn’t sure. As long as it wasn’t in Harry’s direction, he should be fine. As long as he could keep himself from bleeding, as long as he could keep himself from hurting, from lashing out and doing something stupid…

Drat, he was crying.

“Draco!” Harry called out. “Draco, wait!”

The sound of someone running reached Draco’s ears, and he stopped with a shuddering sigh. “What?” he said. He wanted to snarl, to scream, to shove Harry away – but he didn’t have it in him to hurt him. He didn’t even know why this hurt so much, why he felt so betrayed…

Harry grabbed his arm and spun him around. His eyes were wide and guilty, the corners of his mouth turning downward in a frown. “I do trust you, Draco,” he whispered. “And – I’m sorry, but I thought my plans were obvious… I thought you knew about what I was planning to do, just now, in Snape’s office-”

“Oh, so you think I have psychic powers, now?” Draco interrupted mockingly, and pulled at his arm. Harry didn’t let go. “Newsflash, I don’t.”

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Harry’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, now, not just guilt. “I know,” he said, and his voice nearly broke. “Fuck, why is this affecting me so much? It’s just – a silly fight – ack, not that it’s silly to be mad at me, you have all reason to do so – oh, Draco, I’m so sorry about not telling you about the prophecy… I forgot about it, I swear I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, I’ll make it up to you, please, I – I can’t lose you, not now…”

Draco stared as Harry broke into a thousand pieces right in front of him. “What’s wrong with you?” he whispered, worriedly, as Harry began to cry. “Is this my fault?”

Harry shook his head. “N- no,” he muttered. “I don’t know – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying, it just…”

Draco took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Harry’s torso, pulling him close just because he could. “Calm down,” he whispered, as Harry latched onto him with all his might. “Harry, I’m not going to leave you. It just irritates me a bit that you won’t tell me about your plans before we’re in the middle of them – it scares me, you know? Because what if I do the wrong thing? What if you get hurt, and I can’t help you? What if I get us in trouble, and you get mad at me?”

Harry buried his face in Draco’s chest. “I – I’ve been keeping secrets, I know I have,” he whispered.

“If you’d just let me in,” Draco said, “and stop pushing me away when I try to get and know you, this would be so much easier.” Harry nodded into Draco’s chest. “Don’t you dare wipe your nose on my robes, Potter,” Draco complained. “I’ll have you know, they’re expensive!”

Harry snorted, and looked up and at him. “Sorry,” he said. “About everything.” His eyes were bloodshot, and the tears had stained his cheeks like rivers of despair. “I’ll get better, I promise.”

Draco smiled softly. Why had he been angry in the first place?

He could kiss him now, he could just lean forward a tiny bit and their lips would be touching-

Draco settled for pulling him close into another hug, and Harry gave a content sigh as he hugged back. “You’ll tell me, right?” he asked. “If I’m keeping secrets from you?”

“You fucking know it,” Draco said. “I’ll keep watch over you. Like a hawk. Or something.”

Harry giggled.

The moment was interrupted when someone cleared their throat somewhere behind Harry. Draco raised his head to glare at – oh. Okay.

“If you would go somewhere more private,” Snape drawled. “You would be doing a great favor for everyone.”

Harry hummed, and gave a reply without opening his eyes. “With all due respect, sir,” he said, and Draco saw the unhappy lines around his mouth. He was probably getting tired of having to say the same thing over and over again. “Please fuck off.”

Draco quickly averted his gaze from Snape, as his expression turned stormy. “Ten points from Slytherin,” he said, darkly. “For blatant disrespect of a professor.”

Harry snickered. “Okay, Professor,” he chirped happily, breaking free from his embrace with Draco. “I’ll remember that.” He bounced away from them, and Draco stared after him, butterflies soaring in his chest at the happiness from his friend.

“Sorry, Professor, he-” But when Draco turned around, Snape had already fucked off. “Oh. Ah! Harry! Wait up!”

Harry’s laughter echoed from around the corner, and Draco complained loudly as he ran after them.

And, well, if Snape knew more about their relationship than they did, he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Chapter Text

“So, Harry,” Draco said, that day during dinner. They were skipping out on it to have a private talk in the Slytherin Dorm Room – the cold green colors of the beds and the warm chocolate color of the wooden floors made a nice, cool contrast that calmed the atmosphere. Draco could swear that there was some magic involved, but he didn’t really mind as long as it wasn’t harmful. And it wasn’t; it only helped set the mood. Even the air was cool! Not so much that it was bothersome, mind you, but just enough to be on the chilly side. “What is your glorious plan for breaking into Azkaban?”

Harry grimaced, and rubbed his shoulder awkwardly. “I, er… don’t really… have any plans?”

Draco blinked, before raising his eyebrows. “And you call me out on acting Gryffindor.”

“What? No, I don’t,” Harry protested, mouth agape.

Draco’s expression went flat as he pointed his wand over to his trunk to summon a bunch of parchment. When the small pile floated over, he grabbed it – not once breaking eyecontact with Harry – and started to, deliberately slowly, flip through them.

When he found the piece of parchment he was looking for, he pulled it out and began to read aloud. “You’re a Slytherin. I expected you to have some plans. That was very Gryffindor of you, Malfoy. Have you gone soft? Signed, Harry. Yeah, but no, you’re obviously not calling me out on acting like a Gryffindor,” Draco drawled sarcastically, smirking at the paleness of Harry’s face.

“Fine,” Harry sighed, and reached up to rub at his face. “Fine. So I called you out on acting like a Gryffindor, and now you’re calling me out on it. We’re even.”

“We’re even if you let me help you plan,” Draco corrected him sharply.

“As I said, we’re even,” Harry repeated.

“-oh,” said Draco, and straightened his back. “Oh, okay. Well, uh…” He frantically searched his scrambled mind for anything that could help Harry in this. Damn it all, Harry, how and when did you manage to make such a mess out of my thoughts? “Do we know which cell he’s in?”

Harry shook his head. “No idea,” he said.

“Is there a way to find it out?”

Harry’s expression turned perplex, and he shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think so. I’ve already established that we can’t send letters to him – they’re going to go through five different sets of Aurors, and if they’re odd in any kind of way –that includes codes – then he won’t see it. Same goes for if he’s going to send a letter back to us, again.” Harry sighed. “There’s no way for us to get in contact with him.”

Draco hummed, frowned, and leaned back before crossing his arms. “Well, Azkaban’s designed to keep people in, though, right? It shouldn’t be that hard to get in.”

“What are you suggesting?” Harry asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees with an intrigued look about him. “What can we do?”

“Okay, so what if we fake a letter to the Minister – or someone really important – that tells them to come to Azkaban immediately. The import person come along, they open the doors, and I get in with the invisibility cloak. You sneak in through a window or something using your animagus form.”

Harry tilted his head this way and that before answering. “Can’t I just sneak through a window and open the doors for you?”

Draco crossed his arms and pouted. “You’re no fun,” he muttered. “I wanted to take the complicated route for the reader’s sake.”

“The reader’s… sake?” Harry puzzled. “Uh. Okay. We’re not doing that, Draco. But thanks anyway.”

Draco pouted a bit more before softening up again. “Okay, well… what about transport? How do we get to Azkaban? It’s not like we can just walk.”

There was a mischievous spark in Harry’s eye when he answered. “Why, we fly, of course.”

Draco very nearly fell of the bed. “What? Are you suggesting we use broomsticks to get to Azkaban?”

“Nope.”

“Well then, you expect us to find a Pegasus or two in the forest?”

“Not a Pegasus,” Harry grinned. “But its dark shadow.”

Draco paled. “Are you – do you mean – oh Merlin, Harry, is this a thing you’ve done before? Do you know how to control a Thestral?”

“Yup,” Harry said, still grinning like a maniac. “I did it in my fifth year. And maybe it’s cliché to repeat it like this, but honestly, I don’t know why we should waste time and energy to come up with something new when we already have the answer in one shape or another.”

“You have a point,” Draco grudgingly admitted. “Fine, alright. So we take two thestrals to Azkaban, you sneak in through a window or something to open the doors for me – then what?”

“The patronus is really important at this point,” Harry said. “We’re doing something really dangerous here, Draco. I can’t help you cast a patronus before we’re away from the guard’s office. Which means-”

“I’ll be on my own,” Draco interrupted. “Merlin. Alright, fine, I can do that. Just – cast a patronus to guard me. Yup. Good. Fine.”

“After I cast the patronus, we’ll be walking around trying to find Sirius. If a guard comes, just – play dead or something.”

Draco blinked. “Damn, you really don’t have any plan.”

Harry grimaced. “No, I really don’t. I just want to free Sirius. I just want my Godfather,” he muttered, looking down at his lap with a vulnerable expression.

Feeling a pang of guilt even though he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of, Draco shuffled a bit closer to wrap an arm around Harry’s shoulder and pull him close in an awkward half-hug. “We’ll free him, Harry,” Draco said, quietly, into Harry’s hair. “It’s a suicide mission, but I promise you – I’ll find him, or die trying.”

“Please don’t,” Harry protested gently. “If the mission goes to hell, get the fuck out of there. Save yourself.”

Draco shook his head stubbornly. “Not unless I can save you, too. Do you really think I want to live on here without you? Voldemort’s dead. This world is mostly safe, unless Weasel or Dumbledore decides to do something stupid.”

“Fine,” Harry muttered. “Save me, and then yourself. What I’m saying is, if the mission is a failure, forget about Sirius and just let us get out of there. I want my Godfather back… but I still value our lives more.”

Draco hugged him a little bit closer, knowing how much that had hurt to admit. “And if we do find him, and get him out? Where will we keep him?”

“Room of Requirement.”

“Wards,” Draco reminded him.

“Aren’t holding him out. He’s not a Death Eater, and he doesn’t want to harm a student in this school. It worked in our third year, it will work now, too,” Harry countered. “At least I hope so.”

“And what if it won’t?” Draco said. He needed to know. He needed to make sure that Harry knew.

Harry was silent for a moment, before sighing. “Then… we’ll take it from there.”

Chapter Text

Draco’s chest felt ready to burst with nervousness. He held his breath and bit his lip, his hands twisting the invisibility cloak harshly. “Come on,” he whispered. “Come on, come on, come on.”

Slowly, the doors opened up. Not much, just a small slip, but it was all Draco needed, and he rushed forward and slid inside. “Okay,” Harry whispered, from some dark corner. “You got what to do?”

Draco closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes,” he muttered. “Yes. I’m ready.”

There was a whoosh of air as Harry transformed back into his snake form, and suddenly the darkness seemed so much more infinite. Swallowing thickly, Draco gulped down a deep breath, before raising his wand.

It was harder to cast the patronus than he expected to, but he’d entered the Dementors’ territory, and it showed. The air was crisp and thin and terrifying, and although Draco had only been there for a few moments he felt the cold into his very bones.

“Expecto Patronum,” Draco whispered, and although his fingers shook, his voice was steady. A silver fox faded into view like a cloud of moonlight, and Draco let out a breath of relief. “Okay,” he breathed, and looked down at the floor beneath the fox. There was a snake there, blinking up at him with intelligent, green eyes. “Lead the way.”

With a nod, Harry turned around and began to slither away.

There was a constant fear gnawing at Draco’s chest as they walked through the stone halls, and even though his fox was pulsing with light and happiness, it felt like it was all gone from him. As his dull footsteps echoed between the walls he pondered about that – what did the patronus do? Did it suck out your happiness to make it manifest in something corporeal, or did your happiness create it?

Something pressed against his chest, and then it was inside of him, prodding at his heart, and then it was over. A new whooshing sound, and Harry stood next to him, his green eyes sparkling in the faint light of Draco’s patronus. “We’re past the Guard’s Barriers,” Harry muttered, and looked around. “Take off the cloak.”

Draco tore off the cloak, and Harry’s eyes immediately snapped to him.

“By Merlin’s beard, Draco, are you okay?” Harry asked, and frowned in worry. Taking a step closer, he touched Draco’s elbow lightly.

Suddenly it was all too real, the air was too thick and Draco couldn’t breathe, the world was in Harry’s eyes and he was falling all over again –

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I’m. I’m okay. I’ll be fine.”

Harry seemed skeptical, but nodded, and took a step back. Before Draco could protest, he raised his wand. A muttered Expecto Patronum followed, and after a short pause, light poured out of Harry’s wand.

The air around them was instantly filled with light, brighter than Draco’s faint shadow of hope, and everything suddenly seemed so much clearer.

If Draco had thought his patronus looked silvery, then he should have seen Harry’s earlier. It shone with a brilliant light, bright and happy and pure, and it pooled around their legs like molten gold, where Draco’s simply filled the air in faint whips.

It was a fox.

Draco’s fox.

Draco inhaled sharply, and his eyes widened. “Harry-” he said, startled, but Harry turned blazing, guilty eyes to him.

“Not now,” he said, but Draco could tell that he was begging him, and so he shut his mouth with a snap.

He nodded.

*

The silence turned thick and slow, after that. Draco was breathing through his nose in short, sharp breaths, determined to stay calm.

What did that mean? Was Harry – was Harry in love with him?

But, no… that couldn’t be true. Could it? His patronus was Draco’s fox –

or is it mine?

Oh. Oh, Merlin, Draco was stupid. It wasn’t Draco’s fox – it was Harry’s. Which meant that Harry – Harry knew. He’d known in nearly two weeks already. Oh, Merlin.

“Right,” Harry whispered, and Draco was snapped back to reality. “I think I know which part of this hellhole Sirius is located.”

Draco, who’d gone terribly pale, nodded his head. He couldn’t make himself look at the faint patronus made of moonlight. Traitor, he thought, and knew it was a lie.  “Where?” he croaked, before swallowing thickly and licking his lips.

Harry flinched away from his voice, before he shook his head and squared his shoulders. “I’ve looked at some maps of the inside of Azkaban, and – well, just turn right here, up a flight of stairs, and we should be in the section he’s in.

Before Draco had the time to answer, Harry opened his mouth and breathed in deeply. “Auror,” he hissed, and with a snap of his wand the silver fox flickered out of existence. Draco hurried to rein in his magic as well, and a moment later, he pulled the invisibility cloak over his head.

And it was just in time, too, as a wisp of milk-like mist rounded the corner. A scrawny-looking girl followed right after the hare, a sharp and determined look on her dark features. The heels of her boots clicked with each step she took, and Draco closed his eyes.

She’d find them out. She’d see his shoes, or stumble in Harry, or something equally as ridiculous. Her patronus would smell him.

There were black spots in front of his eyes, and he was bleeding out on the floor in a bathroom during his sixth year.

A Dementor would pass by and suck out his soul. Something would happen to Harry.

Now he couldn’t breathe properly, and there was a Dark Mark on his arm and Father was saying I’m proud, son, and Mother was crying softly.

The both of them would die. Oh Merlin.

Then there was a bright light, and Draco gasped after air as the black spots faded away as fast as they’d come. Tears prickled in his eyes, and with a hasty movement, he dried them away before they could be spotted. “Draco,” Harry whispered, worry tainting his voice, and his dull footsteps came closer. “Draco, are you okay?”

“Yup,” Draco chirped as he pulled himself to his feet. “Very. Super.”

Harry was frowning at him, but Draco didn’t care. He shook his head and pulled out his wand, casting a quick Expecto Patronum. The fox returned, casting him a doubtful as if telling him to sit down and relax.

“Which way was it? Left?”

Harry sighed softly. “No,” he muttered. “Right. And a flight of stairs.”

“Right. I knew that.”

“Sure.”

*

Draco stood off to the side, in the shadows that creeped up the walls like vines, and listened to Harry waking up Black.

“Sirius,” he hissed, attempting to shake the metal bars. “Sirius!”

Within the darkness of the cell came a muttered groan, and the sound of rustling cloth. “Oo’s there?”

“Sirius, it’s me,” Harry whispered urgently, desperation and freedom and hope in his voice. “Harry! Your Godson!”

Draco thanked the gods that most of the other inmates were either sleeping, dead, or too mad to understand what was going on, as Black made quite a racket.

“-Harry? You’re alive? By Merlin – by Merlin’s beard.” Some peculiar noises came from inside the cell, and then a dirty and grimy face peered out at Harry through the bars. “Boy, you’ve grown! Last time I saw you, you were a baby!”

“Yes, I know,” Harry rushed. “We’re here to rescue you.”

Black lit up, his hands reached out to hold the bars in a tight grip. “Did Dumbledore send you?”

Even though Draco could only see Harry’s back, he knew that his expression must have darkened. “No,” Harry muttered. “He did not.”

“Then – who did? How old are you, why are you here alone? Is someone from the Order right around the corner?” Black asked, and his fingers trembled as he slowly stuck a hand through the bars to caress Harry’s cheek.

Draco forced himself to keep still as what seemed more like claws than nails touched Harry’s skin. This wasn’t about him.

“No one but myself, Sirius,” Harry whispered. “I – eleven. I’m eleven. There’s no one but Draco standing around the corner, and can we please stop talking about this so we can get you out?”

Black stilled. “Draco?” he said. “Which Draco?”

Harry turned towards where Draco stood. Their gazes locked through the darkness. Slowly, Draco inclined his head, before he took a step forward.

With slow, steady steps – faked, absolutely faked, Draco felt like he was about to fall apart – Draco made his way over to the cell. His heart beat loudly in his chest, nearly deafening the hurried mutters from the woman in the cell opposite of Black’s.

“Oh Merlin,” Black breathed, when he laid eyes upon Draco. “Why is the Malfoy scion here?”

Harry hissed. “He’s my friend, Sirius. We have time to discuss this later, just – transform and get out of here! Do something!”

Black looked from Harry to Draco and back again, before he gave a short nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”

After some effort on Black’s part, the duo became a stumbling trio. Harry walked as a human beside them, to help support Black – who seemed to be near fainting – and also to keep his patronus running.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, and refused to look when Harry turned his face towards him.

“For what?”

Black said nothing, perhaps sensing that this wasn’t the time to act stupid. Or maybe he was just tired. Either way, Draco was grateful. “For not being more helping,” he said. “The Dementors affect me greatly. I would’ve done more, if I could, but – I can’t, Harry, I’m sorry!”

“Draco,” Harry said, softly, and Draco felt his gaze prickle his cheeks as if it was made of a thousand knives. “Do you really believe that I’m not affected, either?”

“Yes,” Draco bit out, before sighing. “Of course I do. Look at your patronus, come on! It’s shining like the moon! Mine is just a faint whisper of something beautiful.” Mine is just a faint whisper of you.

First now did Black notice that their patronuses were the exact same animal, and he stumbled. He didn’t say anything, though, and Draco didn’t feel bad for being relieved.

Harry sighed. “Seven years of war can make anyone good at faking it, Draco,” he whispered. “I’ve faked being happy in horrible conditions before. You’re doing great for a first timer.”

Draco screwed his eyes shut. “If you say so,” he muttered. “But -”

“Guard,” Black interrupted him. “Right around the corner.”

Harry froze. “Shit,” he muttered. “We don’t have time - !”

Draco let go of Black’s arm, took a step in front of him and whipped out his wand. Harry followed right after, and Black transformed into a gangly and tired-looking dog.

The Auror, a man of maybe forty years, rounded the corner and froze on the spot. “What are you kids doing here?” he asked, and then he noticed the wands pointed at him. Before he had the time to find his own, though, a pair of stupefies hit him square in the chest.

Draco lowered his own wand and watched in silence as Harry conjured some rope and tied up the Auror.

“Uh,” said Harry, and took a step back. “I don’t. I can’t perform the Oblivious.”

Clearing his throat, Draco walked over to him with a small nod. “Let me,” he muttered. “Oblivio.”

“You’re not supposed to know that,” Black breathed. “Any of it.” Draco and Harry turned around to face him, only to find him backing off hastily. “Who are you?”

“Sirius,” Harry said, and took a desperate step forward. There was a pained glint in his eyes. “Padfoot. I promise you we’re us.”

Black frowned, and stumbled another step backward.

“Hey, doggo,” Draco said. “Just come with us. Anywhere’s better than here, right? We’ll explain everything later.”

The air around them turned even colder than before, and Black shot a look over his shoulder. “Hurry,” he hissed, and stumbled onward in the hallway. “The Dementors are coming.”

Come on, Draco thought, but hurried after the man. Harry followed closely.

They walked in silence, retracing the duo’s former footsteps. When they neared the trip of stairs again, Harry suddenly froze. He opened his mouth and inhaled deeply, before cursing softly. “Auror,” he warned.

Black turned his head ever so slightly, and Draco saw the shadow of a canine ear twitching. “Shit,” Black whispered, and transformed, at once, into the black dog from before.

Harry readied his wand, as did Draco, just as the clicking footsteps of someone walking neared the trio.

It was another woman, but she seemed to be more intelligent than the other two Aurors, as, the instant she saw them, she whipped out her wand, narrowed her eyes, and mouthed ‘polyjuice potion’.

“Stupefy,” Harry said, calmly, but the woman already had a shield up.

“Who are you?” she snarled, just as she snapped her wand in a sharp motion. A purple beam shot towards them. Capable of wordless casting, then.

“You got us,” Draco sighed, ducking out of the way of the maybe-curse. “We’re Death Eaters.”

“Yup,” Harry added. “Expelliarmus! Very dangerous. You should restrain us.” The woman sneered, but gave no reply other than that, and Harry sighed. “Pity,” he offered. “Voldemort was far more interesting to fight than you.”

The woman very nearly fell over, and Black gave a loud yelp of shock. Draco, who already knew this, used the opportunity to run towards the woman before casting diffindo. She dodged, but just barely, and the cloth covering her upper arm split to reveal a thin, red line in her flesh.

“You speak in riddles,” she whispered harshly. “Surrender!”

Harry laughed, and for one, terrifying moment, Draco heard the Dark Lord in his voice. “Never!” Harry cried, and – “Sectumsempra!”

The woman must have seen the horror on Draco’s face, for she dropped to the floor to dodge. Draco wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

She shot up from the floor the next moment. “Reducto!” she yelled, and it was aimed towards Harry. Draco turned, and there was a moment where his heart stopped because what if it hit what if Harry let it hit what if what if what if, and Harry dodged the shot, but before Draco could taste relief in his mouth the wall collapsed –

and took part of the floor with it.

Harry fell.

“No!” Draco screamed, and he wanted to cry and he wanted to laugh and he wanted to fucking murder that goddamned Auror how could she do this to him – “Oblivio!” he yelled, and barely had the time to watch the spell hit the occupied woman, successfully throwing her back into the wall behind her. “Black! Restrain her!” he ordered, before running over to the hole in the wall.

The harsh wind whipped at his face as he stuck it out over the edge, and in the horizon the gray skies faded into the dark ocean as if they’d always been one. “Harry!” Draco called, but the wind howled around his ears and made it impossible to hear any response. “Harry!” Draco repeated, and he could barely breathe around his heart, which was beating terribly loudly in his throat. “No – Harry!”

Why the fuck did they design Azkaban so that one wouldn’t be able to look straight down? For all Draco knew, Harry was splayed out at a plateau just a few meters further down, or he might have smashed against a wall, or he might have drowned already, or he might be alive and hanging on to a rock by a hairs-width.

The floor underneath his feet wobbled, and before Draco had the time to jump backwards, he slipped and stumbled straight out of the hole. “Malfoy!” Black called out from behind and above him, and Draco screamed.

The ocean came closer and then the wind suddenly hit him square in his chest and he moved in the air and then his back hit solid rock, successfully forcing all the air out of his lunges. Draco fell down, hit some more rock, and oh there was no more ground underneath him he was falling again, and someone gripped his wrist.

“Draco!” Harry cried, and Draco opened his eyes again. He was sore all over, his knuckles were bruised and bleeding and there were dark spots dancing in front of his eyes, but he was alive. Harry was kneeling on a small plateau, one hand gripping the edge and one holding Draco’s arm. His dark hair whipped around his ears, framing his pale face in an upside down halo. There was fear in his eyes.

Draco twisted his hand to grasp Harry’s arm tight. “You’re alive,” he whispered, and relief poured into his words.

Harry let out something that was in the middle of a sob and a choke and a snort. “You won’t be for very much longer, unless you do something,” he hissed, and pulled harshly at Draco’s arm. “Merlin, you’re heavy!”

Draco waved his other arm around, before his fingers smacked into the cold rock. With a mighty heave, both from Draco and Harry, and some kicking, Draco managed to crawl onto the plateau. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ,” Harry breathed, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He pressed his forehead into the nook of Draco’s neck, and Draco couldn’t care less about whether his love was unrequited or not because at least they were both alive and healthy.

“I thought you died,” Draco whispered.

“I thought you were going to die,” Harry offered.

“I didn’t. Thanks.”

“Harry! Malfoy? Can you hear me?”

Harry pulled back from Draco to stand up on wobbly legs. “Sirius!” he cried, and his eyes shone like the moon a hot summer night. “We’re down here! Conjure a rope or something!”

“No, wait!” Draco interrupted. “Just call for the Thestrals, Harry!”

“Genius,” Harry said. “Nevermind, Sirius! We’ll get to you!” He whistled, but it wasn’t the short, sharp whistle of no tune. It gave Draco goosebumps – but then again, that might have been from the cold and the wind tearing through his clothes and his skin and his very bones.

Something screamed in the distance, and then there was a hollow sound of leathery wings flapping, and two thestrals flew into their vision. They hovered in front of Harry, who backed into the wall before leaping onto the back of the nearest one.

“Come on,” he said, and jabbed his chin at Draco.

Breathing deeply, Draco took a step back. It was safe, of course it was safe, Harry wouldn’t just let him fall – well, he’d already fallen, but –

Draco jumped, and it only hurt his joints a little bit when he smacked into the thestral’s bony back. It neighed and shook its head, but Harry ran his hand over the side of his neck, and it calmed down.

Black was flabbergasted at the two of them doing a rescue on two thestrals, but he didn’t complain, and happily climbed onto the back of the other horse-like creature. “To Hogwarts!” Harry yelled, and the two creatures shot off into the night.

*

The sun was setting. Draco had his arms wrapped around Harry’s torso to keep from falling of the thestral, who’d flown up above the red-painted clouds. They reminded him of silk, of cotton, of peace, and he very nearly cried when he lingered on the thought for too long.

“Draco,” Harry said, suddenly, and it was the first word he spoke since they’d begun the flight back. “Thank you.”

Draco closed his eyes. “For what?”

“For being with me.”

“Of course I’m with you.”

Harry exhaled shakily. “Even though – even though the whole – Patronus thing?” Draco inhaled sharply, but before he could give an honest reply, Harry blurted out, “I’m sorry, about that, by the way. I – I can’t help what I feel.”

Draco closed his eyes, again, and pressed his cheek against Harry’s shoulder. Warmth seeped through his robes, and he grimaced. I’m sorry I don’t love you back, I can’t help what I feel, I’m sorry.

“It’s fine,” Draco whispered. “I – don’t think about it. Stuff won’t turn awkward, will it?”

“No,” Harry said. “Not if I can have any say in it.”

Draco smiled, despite of the pain that ate up his chest and his heart and his soul. “Good,” he said, and knew that deep down, he wished –

but knew it was futile.

Chapter Text

After their fall, Draco and Harry had acquired quite the collection of bruises, cuts, and wounds. They called in sick and took a few days to heal, which was not impossible because of magic and a bruise ointment that Harry conjured.

When Draco thought about why Harry knew how to conjure a bruise ointment he felt anger boil at the bottom of his stomach, but Harry would hear none of his apologies and have none of his pity.

Black was placed in the Room of Requirement, where Harry or Draco brought him food every day. And slowly, ever so slowly, he began to fill out. A forgotten spark returned to his eyes, and with every day that went pass, he seemed more and more curious about what the heck was going on.

Harry went to visit the basilisk again, and Draco came with him, if only to get used to the damn snake. Harry wouldn’t let him get hurt, after all – and who else was better to have by his side when visiting 50-foot of murder-snake than Harry Potter?

They both had promised that nothing would turn awkward – and nothing did turn awkward. Of course, there was the hesitant half-hugs, and the times Draco very nearly cried, and… well. It hurt, but it wasn’t the worst Draco had ever felt.

They were fine. They were healing.

And soon – well. We’ll talk about that next time.

Chapter Text

“Boys,” Black greeted them, before grinning widely and hopping down from the windowsill he had been sitting in. “Nice to see you!”

Harry hugged him, briefly, and gestured for Draco to hand over the plate with food and mug of water. “It’s good to see you, too, Sirius,” Harry said, and smiled. “You look far better.”

“I feel better than I have in years,” Black assured him with an easy grin, grabbing the food and a glass with water before sitting down in the few chairs sprawled across the room. “And quite ready to listen to your story.”

“Oh,” said Harry. His face fell. “Well. Uh. We’re not – quite ready to tell it yet.”

Black shrugged. “Okay, so first step: open your mouth. Second step: explain. Third step: wait for me to realize what, exactly, is going on.”

When Harry opened and closed his mouth again, Draco quietly put down the tray with food and placed a hand on Harry’s elbow. “May I?” he inquired softly. Harry nodded. “Thank you.”

“Oh, Malfoy’s gonna tell me? Good, good. I’m listenin’, kid.”

Draco sighed, and sat down in a chair opposite of him. “Okay, first of all, I’m no kid. Neither is Harry. We’re time travelers, and it’s the second time we’re living these lives.”

Then followed the long explanation about what and who they were. What and who they had been. Black was furious at some parts – Dumbledore, Wormtail, his own death and the resulting chaos – and shocked into silence at others.

Towards the end of Draco’s tale, and after all the most pressing questions had been asked and answered, Black stood up and wrapped his arms around Harry to hug him tight.

“Oh, Harry,” he said, and his voice shook. “I’m so proud of you. I’m sure Lily and James would’ve been, too. You deserve peace.” The man then turned to look at Draco, and there was something strange in his eyes – an odd mix of hate, of fondness, of gratitude and uncertainty. “And you, Malfoy. Draco.” Black swallowed hard. “I – er, thank you. Yeah.”

Draco smiled a small, yet genuine, smile. “You’re welcome,” he said, and looked straight into Harry’s gaze.

“Fine, so. That’s one thing – but – what about your patronuses?”

Draco froze, and Harry’s eyes, who’d previously been filled with hope and love and affection hardened into shock and fear and terror. “Er,” he drawled, and pulled back from Black’s embrace. “We don’t – we don’t talk about that.”

Black nodded insistently. “I just want to know – which one of you has the fox? Originally?”

“Not me,” said Harry, at the same time as Draco declared, “It’s not mine.”

They both froze, this time, before slowly turning around to stare at each other with wide eyes. “What?” Harry breathed. “Wait – but – you said -”

“No, no, no, no,” Draco shook his head fiercely. “You said that – but I thought – what?”

“Uh,” said Black, and, with a nervous glance between them, creeped towards a door that appeared in one of the walls. “I – er – just realized that I have a cake – in an oven – somewhere. Yeah. Uh. Have fun!”

“Draco,” Harry said, and all but ran over to him. “Draco, the fox isn’t mine! It’s yours!”

The world span, and Draco’s own hand shot up to rub at his forehead as he stumbled over to one of the chairs. “I – but – you said that you were sorry for not loving me! I thought the fox was yours?”

“It’s literally impossible for the fox to be mine,” Harry hissed, and crawled into the chair next to him. “As you can’t copy something you haven’t seen or felt. And when the fuck did I say I was sorry for not loving you?”

His chest was unnaturally tight – he felt like flying, but drowning, at the same time, and an iron claw was holding his heart tightly in its grip – he felt like flowers and hope and war and dark water. “After Azkaban,” Draco whispered. “On the thestral. You said – you said I’m sorry, I can’t control my own feelings or something like that.”

“I was talking about loving you,” Harry muttered. “Oh, Draco – you thought – and you thought the fox was mine – which means -” His eyes went wide in awe and wonder as he inhaled sharply. “Oh.”

“I’m in love with you,” Draco whispered softly. “I – I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s not a good thing. But I am. And I do.”

Harry laughed, and he sounded relieved and hopeful and like he was flying just like him, and Draco – Draco kissed him and Harry kissed back and oh Merlin this was everything he wanted and m o r e.

Chapter Text

Three days later, as the full moon shone brightly in the sky, the two of them stood in the Great Lake with water up to their ankles. “Are you happy, Harry?” Draco asked. He skipped no stone, as he had no stone in his hand – not that he wanted to skip any stone. He just wanted to look at Harry and Harry alone, look at how the darkness within him finally melted into the light and became an disconnected and odd kind of grayness. How the moonlight flickered in his eyes and lit up a thousand fires and a thousand stars at the same time.

“No,” Harry replied, and smiled. “But I’m getting there.”

The water splashed around Draco’s legs when he stepped closer, and as one, both Harry and he reached out to grab the other’s hand. Their fingers laced together to form a bond stronger than any they had ever formed before, and Draco wondered if it was a good idea what they were doing – but then he didn’t care because Harry was speaking.

“And you, Draco? Are you happy?”

And Draco thought, long and hard, but really, when he looked into Harry’s eyes he found that the question had already been answered the first time he cast a corporeal patronus. “Yeah,” he said, and smiled. “I am.”

“Is there anything else you think we should do about the whole… war?” Harry asked, and Draco’s heart shattered and mended again in the matter of a few seconds because he still thought about that, after everything.

“Voldemort is dead, Harry,” he said. “Black is freed. The stone is gone. I don’t think there’s much more to do.” He took a deep breath, and looked away from Harry’s burning eyes to gaze at Hogwarts, with its tall towers and sharp edges and bewitching atmosphere. “I think it’s time for us to live. Don’t you?”

A few seconds passed where the only sounds were their breaths and their heartbeats and the water splashing sluggishly around their feet. Then Harry let out an even breath, and when Draco turned back towards him, he was smiling. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

He wrapped an arm around his neck and caressed the side of his face, and somehow it was cold and warm and ice and fire at the same time, and their lips pressed against each other and it felt like coming home and it felt like power and it felt like peace.