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Chapter Text

It was a warm, humid evening when Harry found himself looking down at the Black Lake.

It was reflectively capturing the cloudy sun, ripples of water cascading from whatever life was happening down below. All he could think about was Eighth-Year, and how today signified the first day of a new welcoming embrace amongst children of war.

He could hear chattering of young children's voices echoing above from the parapets, and Harry only thought about how lucky they were that the Wizarding World was finally safe for everyone. Now, nobody had to endure what he had to go through—along with others. Now, children could finally have a normal childhood.

As Harry mourned, he suddenly heard a voice call for him.

“Harry! What are you doing?” It was Ron.

There was nothing wrong with his best friend, he just needed time to be alone.

“Just—Y’know, sitting,” Harry dumbly said.

“Ah, my favourite activity, sitting down and staring at a body of water,” Ron teased as he sat beside the brooding boy.

There was nothing wrong about Harry, really. Reflection was what he wanted to do nowadays, and Harry had no clue why. Was it the aftermath of it all? Harry glanced around the Great Hall multiple times, yet no one seemed affected as much as him; except for one person.

And that person was none other than Draco Malfoy.

It confused Harry as to why Draco kept that anxious expression across his face everyday. The stress and fear that he saw stung a hint of relatability towards Harry. Did they feel the same way? Were they somehow relatable to each other, even after all those years?

“I’m just… thinking,” Harry finally replied. Merlin, could his answer be any more bland?

“Seems like you do a lot of that nowadays.” Ron observed.

Harry huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, can you blame me?”

Could he tell all his worries to Ron? Harry felt like a burden on someone’s back, too heavy to let anyone carry him.

Ron smacked his lips, standing up. It seemed like he realized Harry wanted to be alone.

“I just remembered! Hermione’s waiting for me in the common room. See you at dinner, Harry!” Ron quickly set off, waving at Harry’s back.

Harry sighed, staring at the body of water.

There was nothing more exhilarating than looking at a form of life, the water waving beneath him in heaps of movement. Harry stood up, beginning to walk away from where he sat.

As he walked away, he noticed a familiar sight of a blonde head, who appeared to be running towards one of the tower doors.

~

The 8th year common room was a spacious tower, almost identical to the Gryffindor common room, except it had a hint of every single house. It had the layout of the Slytherin common room, the interior and decoration of the Hufflepuff’s, and the floor and walls designed for the Ravenclaw’s.

It had the hint of every single member in it, as well. Luna’s obscurely odd glasses placed upon the fireplace, Seamus’ book that his mother sent to him recently about Herbology studies, Ron’s jacket that was placed lazily on the communal couch. Harry saw it all.

He would enter the common room, entirely unscathed, and come back out, the room looking the exact same.

It was like he was afraid of moving things that weren’t supposed to be bothered. He was afraid that if he were to touch something, it'd explode into tiny bits of glass—he knew his hands were dangerous. That dreadful anxious feeling kept bubbling up to the surface, threatening him with a knife to his throat.

Harry felt that same exact panic as he entered the common room, yet it was familiar in a comfortable way.

The intensity heightened when he saw a few of his Housemates lazing about on one of the few couches.

“Harry, how’s it going?” Neville asked, currently playing chess with Dean.

Many things weren’t going well; including his internal turmoil of feeling like he’ll never feel normal again.

“Fine,” Harry settled with. “Who’s winning?”

Dean huffed sarcastically. “Neville, obviously!”

Harry huffed a laugh, not enough energy to fully let out a chuckle. Neville had been practicing his chess skills over the summer to finally beat everyone after he got owned the spring before. Harry hadn’t realized how much he had improved. Harry hadn’t noticed a lot of things this year, actually.

“Well, I was just about to head off to sleep,” Harry explained. His top priority was to get at least four hours of sleep—apparently, the normal eight hours was far too generous for Harry’s muddled brain.

Neville frowned, casting a quick Tempus to show the time. It was currently half past nine.

“Nine-thirty, Harry. Surely you have some free time?” Neville offered. “Winner gets to play next with you?”

Harry shook his head. Even that action rattled his brain. “I’m all right. Thanks for the offer, though.”

As Harry was walking up to the boy’s dormitory, his steps faltered at the sound of Neville and Dean talking. Or, more specifically, them talking about a specific someone.

“Isn’t it awfully suspicious, though? I mean, he’d show up almost everyday the last time we attended here. He wouldn’t skip breakfast or dinner, not even lunch!” The sound of Dean explaining like he’s absolutely baffled made Harry stop.

“Yeah, it’s not like Malfoy… You’re right.” Even the word Malfoy made Harry’s ears perk up.

“Right? And—and, we can’t forget about the fact that he’s always late to the first class, Charms?”

“Ah, right, that too.”

“It’s weird. Anyways—What was I talking about before?”

“Our classwork, the one about Astronomy.” Neville said, and that was when Harry shut the dormitory door.

~

The next morning, running on only a few hours of sleep, Harry dedicated himself to paying full attention to Malfoy.

The only problem was, Malfoy never showed up.

After a few hours of his restless leg bouncing up and down, and Hermione asking Harry if he was alright, and Harry glancing at the door every now and then, he had enough.

Harry quickly stood up. “I forgot something. I’ll go get it quick.”

Hermione, who had a mouth full of bacon, jerks her head up, in unison as Ron, who was drinking a cup of orange juice.

“Alright, just don’t be late for Charms,” Hermione said in suspicion.

Harry didn’t wait for Hermione’s words to catch up to him, as he fully sprinted towards the Great Hall doors.

The trip to the dormitory was hasty and quick. Harry spent no time digging out his Marauder’s Map and checking for those familiar footsteps over a name none other than Draco Malfoy.

Alas, he found the name in the Astronomy Tower.

Astronomy Tower? At this time? Harry thought to himself. Why would Draco Malfoy be on the Astronomy Tower early in the morning?

Harry quizzically folded the map back in place, pointing it with his wand with a quick Mischief Managed. If Malfoy wanted to be all mysterious and suspicious the first week back at Hogwarts, then Harry would go to lengths to figure out why.

Oh, Merlin. This was just like sixth-year all over again, wasn’t it?

Without realizing, he had arrived at the entrance of the Astronomy Tower. His steps echoed against the spiraling stairs as he finally reached the top of the tower.

But what Harry didn’t expect was the tower to be empty.

No sign of Draco Malfoy anywhere. Harry frantically checked his map again, and was led to a very confusing conclusion: Draco Malfoy was here, yet he was not here in the present. His name was clearly written on the map, but how come he wasn’t in front of Harry right this moment?

Throughout Harry’s dilemma, he hadn’t realized that he almost tripped on a very small object. So small, in fact, that Harry did not realize it was right in front of him.

He bent down to peer at it more clearly. It appeared to be a smaller version of a golden snitch, yet the golden ball had a clasp that could open and close shut. Harry grabbed the small object and carefully rolled it around his fingers.

Harry was just about to open it when—

“Ow, fuck!” A voice landed on top of him.

Harry fell bluntly as a heavy weight toppled over him. A pair of legs appeared to be straddled over Harry’s lap.

“Malfoy?” Harry squinted, then readjusted his glasses. That was clearly Malfoy currently straddling his legs. That platinum blonde hair, those furrowed silver eyes. What the fuck?

“Potter? What are you doing here? Get off of me—” Malfoy hastily crawled off of the shocked boy.

“I should be asking you that question,” Harry remarked, eyeing Malfoy with a suspicious look.

Malfoy scoffed, standing up and fixing his hair so that strands of it hung off of his forehead, parting it in a pretty way. “Of course you would be stalking me around, Potter. Now, where is that…” Malfoy trailed off as he quickly glanced around the premises.

Harry ignored his remark and realized what Malfoy was looking for.

“Are you looking for this?” Harry stood up too, raising his hand where the small golden snitch was currently being held. For some odd reason, it felt like the snitch got heavier.

Malfoy’s grey eyes widened. “Potter, you should give that back.” He grit his teeth.

Harry smirked. “Hm, I don’t know. Why should I?” What was so special about this object that Malfoy was so defensive over it? Harry longed for the answer.

Malfoy glared, and Harry couldn’t help but find it cute.

Not cute. He meant humorous. Harry shook his head, and stared back up at Malfoy.

“It’s mine, in fact. So if you don’t mind—” Malfoy reached over to grab the ball, but Harry backed away, making Malfoy almost trip.

After a few attempts of trying to grab it, Malfoy seemed to finally realize Harry was adamant on not giving it back. Hell, he probably even thought of keeping that unidentified object.

“Here, how about this,” Harry finally said. “How about you just tell me what you were doing? Tell me how in Merlin’s name you just appeared out of thin air.”

After a bated breath, Malfoy says,

“No. Accio Remembring.”

The tiny snitch caught Malfoy's open hand with a thud. Harry’s pride faltered and before he knew it, Malfoy ran past him, down the spiraling stairs.

Harry sighed, wondering if he should chase Malfoy down.

No, he thought. Another day. First, I need to know what the bloody hell a Remembring is.

~

“Remembrings are an ancient magical object which allows the witch or wizard who cast it to allow a fragment of a memory to be experienced by the user. The time and place could be anywhere, as long as it actually happened. Moreso, dreams or manipulated memories cannot be captured in a Remembring, as it did not actually happen—Okay, why did you want to learn about this again?” Hermione asked, casting a suspicious glance.

Harry coughed. “I just, y’know, heard it from somewhere. I didn’t know these things existed throughout my whole wizarding life. Isn’t that mental?”

Hermione shrugged. “There’s a ton of magical objects the wizarding world doesn’t know about. It’s all just passed down from generation to generation within families—sort of like heirlooms, as an example.”

Harry concluded that a Remembring was definitely a Malfoy heirloom, then.

“Well, continue, please,” Harry replied.

“Instructions on the proper ways of safely creating a Remembring. Step one, place the Remembring in the palm of your hand. Then, recall great details of the specific memory you want to capture, the smells, feelings, sights, etc. The Remembring should now start to feel heavy. After successfully recalling your memory, you may now share your memory together with another witch or wizard! Note, make sure to keep it in a safe environment so as to not lose the tiny object.”

Hermione stopped reading her book, looking up at Harry with an amused expression. “Is that all you wanted to hear?”

Harry nodded. “You’ve been a great help, Hermione.” He sat up to begin leaving the library, when she stopped him.

“Harry, if you ever want to talk about something… Well, anything on your mind, y’know you could tell me, right?”

A sense of dreadful guilt washed over Harry as he smiled and said, “Of course I know that, ‘Mione. See you at dinner.” As he walked away to further investigate Malfoy.

~

Draco had always been keen on his senses.

It was probably the fact that for his whole life, it felt like he was on high alert all the time. He was always restless, never fully off guard.

So that was probably why nowadays, he always felt a familiar pair of eyes boring into him.

He was currently in the library, munching on a piece of his lunch while reading a book about ancient heirlooms.

He didn’t like to admit it, but he was also in the library to skip his next lecture—as most of his classmates in his Year resented him, or worse, harassed him.

Ever since discovering a pile full of strange ball-sized Snitches in the closet of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, he had been curious as to why he felt drawn to it. Ancient heirlooms were always quite a mystery to him; he hadn’t even known those existed.

Draco and his mother had to clear out any family belongings after their trials, and they stopped at Grimmauld Place, making sure his mother didn’t forget any special trinkets behind. When Draco showed the Snitches to Narcissa, she only shrugged in confusion.

“Where’d you find that?” Narcissa eyed the heirlooms carefully.

Malfoy pointed to the room behind him. “That room’s closet.”

Narcissa seemed to remember something as her expression turned into grief. “Ah, Regulus’ room. Well, I’m sure those were just his belongings.” Her smile was painful. “You should keep anything in that room. I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded.”

Maybe it was the familiarity of the object, or that he could sense a certain nostalgia towards it. Either way, on that day, after Narcissa trudged down the stairs to check the kitchen, Draco opened those Snitches and his life was never the same since.

He remembered the sensation of the world swirling, the sudden change of atmosphere, and how he was first at Grimmauld Place, but suddenly he was at Hogwarts, in the Astronomy Tower.

He remembered the figure he recognized first.

At first, Draco thought it was Harry, but the more slowly he inspected the familiar figure, he realized it wasn’t him. This man—or boy, in particular—had more muscle mass than Harry, and he carried a more confident energy than Harry. As Harry’s face was more stoic and cold, this boy’s face was radiating sunshine. This boy had golden tan skin, almost like he was in the sun all day. Harry’s eyes were green like emeralds, and this boy had chocolate brown irises. The only similarities were the glasses and unruly hair.

“Potter,” a cold voice behind him snapped Malfoy out of his daze as he turned around.

A boy with a stone-heart gaze, grey eyes that pierced skin. His face was taunt and unimpressed. Black locks covered his forehead, and his pale, ivory skin complemented the green Slytherin of his robes very well. The boy Malfoy saw first was the complete opposite of this figure right in front of him.

“I told you to call me James, Regulus,” the boy to his left—James—said. James awkwardly kicked a stone near his foot.

“Oh, no,” Regulus replied quickly. “No, Potter. We’re not doing this.” He shrugged, almost mechanically. “I’m done associating with whatever we had. I mean, it was hardly anything, to be fair.”

James looked stricken, like a sad dog. “Reg, I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

“Don’t fucking call me that again,” Regulus warned lowly. Malfoy was taken aback from his aggressiveness. Maybe he would’ve minded that Draco stole his heirlooms.

Regulus took a step back, ready to leave. “You know what you did wrong. And I’m sorry, I truly am, but, I don’t forgive easily.”

Brown eyes furrowed sadly behind the frame of his glasses. Regulus continued, “Go back to her, alright? It’s ten times easier than us being together. Bye. Don’t call out my name in the hallways, don’t touch me, don’t act like you know me, don’t wait for me at our spot. Actually, don’t ever come up here, you know I came here first. Just, don’t associate with me at all. Let’s never cross paths again.”

And at that, Regulus left.

Malfoy looked to see James’ crumbled expression, the way his lips quivered and the slow buildup of tears in his eyes.

Malfoy felt like that goodbye was a bit too harsh, especially for a last one, but also, he didn’t know what this Potter boy did to make Regulus act like that. He would have to figure it out sooner or later.

James sniffed once, then twice, then rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, skewing them up. His shaking hands slowly went up to cover his face. He took a big shaky breath, once, then twice.

The sound of footsteps made James alert, as he rubbed his eyes as hard as possible, looking up to contain the droplets from falling. The talent of masking his face into a neutral expression shook Draco to his core. It felt too practiced. Draco felt seen.

“Prongs, you in there?” a voice called out. “I checked the map. Why were you with Regulus?”

The sight of a young Sirius Black never failed to surprise Draco. He only ever saw him in the newspapers during breakfast. The sullen eyes, purple eyebags, a psychotic look in his gaze, him holding up a prison number.

This version of Sirius Black was so different that Draco couldn’t comprehend it. This Sirius Black had life in his eyes and the way he held up his demeanour was so vastly different; he looked so confident with himself.

“Oh, Regulus? It was weird, honestly. I was up here and he told me to move out of his spot. Apparently, he’s been hanging out here ever since the creation of Hogwarts. Your little brother’s stubborn, I just found out.”

“You just found that out now? He’s been stingy ever since he popped out of the womb! Unbelievable…” Sirius barked a laugh.

James laughed, and it felt all too artifical. “Alright, I’m starving, and I haven’t even ate lunch yet. Padfoot, you got any food on you?”

Sirius pursed his lips, his hands on his hips. “Nope.” He thought for a second, before, “C’mon, let’s sneak into the kitchen!” A crazed look full of mischief bore on Sirius’ face. It looked so natural.

James exchanged the same expression. “Brilliant.”

They both set off with chuckles, and the world swirled back into reality.

The first thought Draco thought of on the cold floor of Grimmauld Place was: What had happened between Potter and Black? James and Regulus… James and Regulus… Draco repeated in his head.

James and Regulus… James and Regulus…

For weeks after that, Draco swore his life in dedication to find out his Hogwarts mystery.

Immediately, he set off to work, isolating himself, skipping classes to experience more memories, spending his time in the library more than going outside, declining offers from his friends to go to hangout, it was all exhausting, yet Draco was so enraptured by this whole situation that he couldn’t help but feed into this curiosity.

He hadn’t felt this passionate in years.

But, of course, he was Draco Malfoy, and something had to make his life difficult.

As Draco currently sat in the creaky chair of the quiet, dusk, library. He could’ve sworn that the son of James Potter was currently stalking him.

Well, not necessarily stalking, but Draco thought it was all the same.

Draco sighed, annoyed; he stood up to go move to his usual corner in the library where he used to brood. As he walked away, his ears perked up to hear another pair of footsteps following him. His eye twitched and the grip of his book tightened.

Maybe I’ll continue my research tomorrow, he thought as he changed directions to go exit the library as quickly as possible.

Draco walked out to the courtyard, then into one of the hallways. He thought about the most recent Remembring, which was just James and Regulus cuddling in the Room of Requirement. Draco felt uncomfortable, almost like he was intruding.

That moment felt so intimate that Draco hadn’t dared to go find that room in the Room of Requirement, even though nobody could stop him.

To put onto the fact that investigating that room could help Draco tremendously with how things went haywire between the two boys.

Draco Malfoy had three theories: One was that James cheated, or that they miscommunicated, or that Regulus really never loved James in the first place. Though, the latter wasn’t appearing to be true, as Draco noticed how Regulus looked at James through those memories; love.

Pure, undying, unconditional love that made Draco shudder.

He also came up with a theory that Regulus might’ve given the Remembrings to James with permission, considering the fact that some memories seemed to be in James’ perspective; his senses, feelings, sights, etc.

With those theories in mind, he trekked up to the Room of Requirement, requesting the room where Remembrings are kept, and when the door appeared, Draco looked both ways before closing it shut behind him.

In here, he ignored the queen-sized bed that he usually slept in nowadays and walked over to the pile of Remembrings beside it on the carpet floor.

He hated to admit it, but this room was where he lurked on a daily basis. It wasn’t like he had his friends to hound him wherever he went; Pansy, Blaise, and Theo all tried to figure out where Draco went, but all he did was push them away further.

He sat down ungracefully, rather because he was getting frustrated now. He went through most of the Remembrings now after a few weeks, but the problem was that there was just so much Remembrings, and each time he used one, he would get severely nauseous and throw up his nonexistent breakfast.

So, he permitted himself to one Remembring per every two days. Today was the day he finally opened another one. Draco could feel the answer in his palms now, he could taste the victory, the satisfaction—

A loud thump made Draco turn his whole body around in fear. It sounded like a foot tripping.

“Hello?” Draco carefully called out. He squinted his eyes, shoving the pile of Remembrings under the bed. It was scary how quick Draco tried to save the precious heirlooms instead of himself.

Alas, after a few minutes of Draco’s scrutiny, a figure revealed himself.

And of course it was bloody Potter.

With his stupid invisibility cloak.

Draco’s gaze hardened. “Potter, of course it’s you. Are you having fun stalking me around? Don’t act coy now.”

Potter looked so sheepish that he almost looked stupid. “Malfoy. I promise you that it’s not with ill intentions. Just…” Potter looked behind Draco, where the Remembrings lied. “I know what those are.”

“What?”

“Remembrings. I know what they do. I’m just curious as to why you’ve been so captured by these things that you’ve been skipping lectures and barely coming to the Great Hall.”

Draco scoffed. “Oh, so you’re worried about me?”

Potter stuttered. “What?—When did I—I never said that. Why would I worry about you? I’m just curious, is all.”

“Just stating the obvious,” Draco remarked. “Well, I’m sorry, Potter, but you’re not going anywhere near those Remembrings.”

Potter’s jaw twitched, and Draco traced his gaze where the vein was popping out—

“Incarcerous!”

Instantly, long, tendrils of rope began to bind Draco’s arms and legs. He yelped. Goddamn it, Draco couldn’t even defend himself properly, because if he had touched the bloody Saviour of the Wizarding World, the whole world would’ve gone rampant on him.

“Potter! I swear to Merlin, if you touch those—” Potter already began shuffling through the Remembrings.

Draco groaned. Was this what it felt like to feel powerless? Lately, he had been feeling the loss of power more recently.

Potter looked at one carefully, rolling it between his two fingers. “Why does this one feel more heavy?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe because it holds the most memories—Alright, are you done with your silly little investigation now?”

Potter smirked. “Nope.”

Something snapped inside Draco, as he suddenly kicked a free leg out to Potter’s shin, making him buckle and trip, and somehow Draco made it worse and Potter inevitably landed on top of him with a loud thud.

“Ow, Malfoy. What is your problem—”

Potter’s mouth seemed to stop moving, as his green eyes widened in shock.

Draco, ignoring how close Potter was at the moment, followed his line of view to notice that the Remembring in his hand somehow cracked open.

And that was when the world swirled around.

~

The first thing Harry saw was Malfoy’s grey eyes.

Grey eyes that seemed to be absolutely furious.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Malfoy grumbled, standing up and brushing himself off.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have kicked me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have snooped your dirty nose around.”

Ignoring the bickering, the next thing Harry saw was that he was not in the Room of Requirement.

He was somehow at the Astronomy Tower. In the shrouded sky of night.

And then he saw the two figures.

The first figure, which slightly resembled Sirius—uncannily, actually—had his head resting on his crossed arms, which were laying rest on top of the Astronomy Tower’s balcony. His head was staring up at the vast, endless, starry, night. The figure next to the boy shook him to Harry’s core.

It was his dad.

But, his dad seemed slightly younger than Harry could recall; perhaps a few years, at most. But what shocked Harry most of all, was the harbouring look of love in his dad’s eyes.

Staring straight at the other boy.

As if getting caught in the act, James looked back to the sky, flustered.

To Harry’s left, a voice snorted.

“What a sap,” Malfoy said, a bored look in face.

Harry paid no attention to Malfoy’s retorts, as the Sirius look-alike began to talk.

“I’m happy,” he said quietly that Harry had to strain his ears to hear.

James stayed quiet for a moment, and Harry observed that he was struggling to say something.

“Me too,” James blurts out. “I—I just wanted you to know that.”

James turned around to the other boy, whose head was now buried under his arms, looking back at James with a sweet smile.

“Y’know,” James begins, turning away and blushing under the pale moonlight. “We could buy a star.”

A snort formed out of the other’s mouth. “A star? How romantic of you.”

James’ smile could radiate thousands of suns, as he said, “No, I’m telling you, it’s the greatest romantic gesture of all.” He rested his face on his hand. “When the world ends, and our world is on fire, the only thing surviving would be those stars, and those stars would contain our names, our love.”

The other boy stayed quiet, an indescribable look on his face.

“Romantic, right?” James continued. “Even through burning cities, our love will still be up in the sky.”

And before Harry could comprehend what was happening, the other boy went over to James and placed his lips on the other.

A second later, and they began full on making out; panting and creating obscene noises.

“Oh, God,” Harry contorts, looking away.

“See, I didn’t touch this memory again after looking at it,” Draco explained casually.

“I can understand why.”

After a while, Harry turned his head out of full curiosity, and now James seemed to be urging on the other boy, making him stumble back, and thankfully, separating their mouths.

The other boy pushed James back a bit. “You’re crazy,” he says quietly.

James grins, a grin that Harry could only describe as lovesick. “Only for you.”

And the world swirled back into reality.

~

Harry’s eyes adjusted to the cold, wooden floor of the Room of Requirement.

He felt a bit dizzy, but he needed to ask just one question.

“Who was that?” Harry asked, to a Malfoy who seemed a bit too pale than usual.

Malfoy gulped, as he looked like he was struggling pushing back something rising up his throat. “Regulus Black.”

Harry’s brain racked up names, memories, and information about the Black Family. His eyes lit up when he suddenly remembered. Of course, how could he forget Sirius’ little brother, the same exact boy that Harry had to snoop in his room? The one who hid the Slytherin Locket, and seemed somewhat clever with the way he wrote his last letter to Voldemort.

Wait, Harry stopped. My dad and Regulus Black?

“I see that look on your face,” Malfoy suddenly said. “I was like that, too. I thought your dad just happily married your mother, but I realized there was more to that.”

“But, how did no one… Why didn’t anyone know?” Harry thought out loud.

Malfoy deadpanned. “That’s what I was trying to figure out, until you came along.”

Harry argued, “Well, why do you even have these memories? Y’know it includes my dad, I have the right to look at these, as well!” Anger was simmering underneath his skin. Harry was angry at the thought of never discovering these, never getting the chance to understand his dad better.

Harry would do anything to get to know his parents better.

Malfoy started playing with the hem of his sleeve. “I recently found out Regulus Black was my uncle, well… I mean, he died young so I sort of imagine him as my distant cousin.”

He continued, “And, well, I just couldn’t help but see similarities between us. It baffled me, honestly, comparing me with a boy who looks like he could slice you up with just his stare, but, I—”

“You couldn’t help but be curious about him?” Harry finished his sentence.

“Exactly.” Malfoy had a look of interest, which was new. “What was the story of these two boys, who somehow tragically died? I just can’t help but be drawn to them.”

“Well, I can’t back out of this now. This is my dad we’re talking about, someone who I have zero knowledge about,” Harry explained with a panging of sadness in his heart.

A beat of silence.

“Fine,” Malfoy huffed. “But I had good progress. You can’t be holding me back as dead weight.”

Harry nodded, secretly feeling excited. “I promise, I won’t.”

“Alright, then. I need you fill you in on the basics.” Malfoy, who was sitting down, went ahead and grabbed the pile of Remembrings out from below the bed. He began shuffling through the pile of small Snitches, when he stopped to pick one up.

“I numbered the Remembrings I already went through to what I thought was the chronological order,” he explained, showing Harry the small piece of taped paper that wrote “1.” on it. “This is the first.”

Harry eyed the number. He looked up, anticipating. “So, are we going to…”

Malfoy sighed, dropping his hand onto his lap. “The problem is, whenever I try to view more than two Remembrings a day, I always throw up. The first Remembring, I only get nauseous.”

Harry, who was brimming with anticipation, did not care for the slightest. “Can’t I just be the one to view it? You can just stay back.”

Malfoy shrugged indifferently. He shoved the Remembring towards Harry. “Go right ahead.”

As the ball was placed in his hand, Harry couldn’t fathom how such a small object; a small snitch, to be specific, could possibly hold such precarious memories from years ago.

Without any hesitance, Harry grabbed the Remembring and opened it with a click.

The swirling felt all too familiar.

~

Petrichor hit Harry’s nose like a double-decker bus.

He was on the stone floor, rain droplets hitting the ground from a few miles away. It seemed like he was under a cove of some sort. Harry blinked from the pounding in his head to see a standing figure not too far from him, and that was when he realized that he was somewhere deep inside the Forbidden Forest.

Regulus Black was currently scowling while tapping his foot impatiently.

He was wearing the normal school uniform and green Slytherin tie, but Harry couldn’t quite understand why he still looked out of place. The figure in front of him didn’t click to Harry as an old Hogwarts student, only a stranger dressed up in their robes.

As Harry traced Regulus’ stance, he lowered his eyes to notice a pile of Remembrings piled up in the corner of the cove, almost like a hidden stash. It was tucked away, but Harry knew what that implied. That there were more Remembrings to be found. Harry tucked away that knowledge to tell Malfoy later. He continued observing Regulus.

The young boy scowl deepened when he saw a figure running from a distance, catching up to Regulus under the alcove.

Harry’s breath caught as he saw his dad, running in the heavy rain with his clothes stuck to his body; his foggy glasses and dopey smile all tied together as his dad.

The smiling boy waved frantically, finally catching up to Regulus with a pant. Regulus huffed a sigh as he brought out a handkerchief and walked over to caress James’ face with one hand, wiping the rain droplets off of his glasses.

“Seriously, do you sometimes forget you’re a wizard? You could cast yourself a drying spell or at least conjure an umbrella. You’re drenched.” Regulus continued to wipe James’ face off gently.

James grinned lovingly. “That would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it? And you would stop wiping my face off for me.”

Regulus huffed playfully, crossing his arms. “Bet you’d love me coddling you everyday, wouldn't you?”

“Absolutely.”

“You absolute prick.”

“You forgot to put ‘handsome’ in front of it.”

“Oh, shove off.”

James laughed his heart out. “Oh, I could never get bored of this.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “This?”

“Our banter. Our talks. You, in general.” James said, suddenly walking and sitting down against the cold cave walls.

Regulus plopped down beside him, a bit too close in Harry’s opinion. “You’ve only just met me a few weeks ago. How would you know?”

James paused, a thoughtful expression. “You just made me realize how boring this school was until you came along. Remember the first time I encountered you?”

“How did that happen?”

James pouted jokingly. “Oh, c’mon! Remember? My third year, on the Quidditch pitch, it was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and we absolutely dominated you guys.” James chuckled at Regulus’ sharp glare. “But I remember at the end of the game I complimented you on the pitch on how good of a Seeker you were.”

Regulus’ expression brightened, then amusement. “Oh, yeah. I clearly remember Sirius’ face after that comment. It was hilarious.”

James’ laugh echoed through the cave walls. “Oh. he would go absolutely livid if he knew I hung out with you.”

“Would he, now?” Regulus teased. “Can’t wait for that day to arrive, then.”

The two boys continued laughing, until James’ smile faded slowly.

“Do you hate him?” the older boy suddenly asked, a serious face revealed on his expression.

Regulus was taken aback. “Hm?”

“Sirius. Do you hate him?”

The younger boy’s smile vanished, and James’ had regret written all over him.

“Oh, sorry, I—” James began. “I was just, curious. Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. Forget I said anything.”

The walls were suddenly suffocating and uncomfortably silent, until it was broken by a small voice.

“I don’t know,” Regulus said, uncertainty wavering in his pained eyes.

James perked up, still a bit nervous. “What d’you mean?”

Regulus opened his mouth, then closed it. He opened it again, “He’s my brother. And having a brother is like having your greatest enemy be on your side. He knows a lot about me, unwillingly, and yet, he still accepts me. Isn’t that strange? Having a sibling, I mean.”

James sat still for a second, dazed, until he processed it and shrugged. “I don’t know that feeling. I’m an only child, so I don’t know what that’s like.”

Regulus rolled his eyes playfully, then continued, “Just imagine being born with another version of you, but different somehow, yet you still share the same blood and last name. Imagine a person that went through the first years of adolescence with you, someone who knows you through and through. Imagine being young and grabbing their hand and giggling through the yard, or imagine scratching at their face and screaming through baby tears, or crying for your mom because they stole your favourite toy.” Regulus took a steady breath. “Imagine a person who you’ve known your entire life, who may or may not show you love in unexpected ways, yet they know just the right enough force to hurt you.”

Regulus turned his head towards James, who was already staring at Regulus with an indescribable expression.

“The first memory I have is Sirius, and it always will be. That’s just how siblings are.” His smile could only be described as longing. “Sometimes I wish my brother knew how much I want things to go back to how they always were.”

James blinked. “Maybe that’s possible.”

The pained boy just shook his head. “Unlikely story.”

James jumped onto his remark, “No, seriously. It might be. Why are you so prone to giving up?”

A defeated shrug rose its way to Regulus’ shoulders. “Giving up is easier than trying.”

James guffawed at his comment. “Giving up is admitting to the world that you’ve lost. Trying is saying to the world, ‘Hey, look, I’m trying!’ and it doesn’t matter if it all falls down, because at least you tried! That’s all that matters in the end!”

Harry blinked harshly. He’d never seen his dad get so worked up before. Well, he’d never really seen his dad a lot, in the first place.

Regulus retorted back louder, “Why would you get your hopes up and just disappoint yourself in the end? That’s a miserable way to live life!”

James shouted back, “And you’re saying giving up isn’t any more miserable?”

“I never said it wasn’t! I just get my hopes up so many times, and then be disappointed in the end, and I’m just sick of it!”

“I’ll change that!” James suddenly shouted.

The silence after that was deafening. Almost like the air stilled to capture that moment in place. Like the world froze and all that existed were the two boys, who didn’t know what the next move was. Regulus’ arm twitched, almost like he was about to do something drastic, but held back.

Regulus looked away, eyebrows furrowed. “You have no idea what you’re saying, do you?”

“Regulus, I’ll help—”

“It’s almost time, isn’t it?” Regulus’ sudden joyful voice interrupted him. His voice was so forcefully fake, it rang deep inside Harry’s guts.

“What?”

“Lunch. Well, I’m off.” Regulus stood up and brushed his trousers. “Lovely conservation, Potter.”

“Regulus—”

“Don’t.” Regulus raised a hand, looking away from the older boy. But from Harry’s expression, he could see the young boy harbouring a pained look. “I’m hungry. Bye, Potter.”

Regulus began muttering a Drying spell, and walked off towards the pouring rain.

And that was when the world came back.

~

“Fuck,” was the first word Harry said as he came back to reality, nauseous and splayed across the carpet floor. His head was hurting like crazy; it felt all of those strong emotions somehow absorbed into Harry.

A snort bubbled from beside him, and Harry glared at Malfoy, who was currently amused at the other boy’s reaction.

“Oh, so it was that bad, was it?” Malfoy laughed.

Harry huffed indignantly, his upper body slowly rising from the floor. “Well, how would you feel if you saw your late dad flirting with some broody teenage boy that resembles your godfather?”

“I would lose my shit, of course,” Malfoy replied with a straight face, which almost made Harry burst out into laughter.

Harry stifled a laugh. “Exactly.”

After a bated breath, Malfoy shifted in his place. “So, do you understand it now?”

“What?”

Malfoy scoffed. “How much love your dad carried for that mysterious boy.”

It was almost baffling to remind himself that this was Sirius’ younger brother they were talking about; it felt comical. Harry stifled a remark about how he didn’t understand what his dad saw in the gloomy boy, but he held back. Malfoy did say that he resonated with Regulus, hadn’t he?

“I can’t say I have a positive opinion on it,” Harry truthfully said.

Malfoy hummed thoughtfully. “I expected you to say that. I wouldn’t even be able to digest this amount of information about my dead dad.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s not like your dad’s doing any better,” he said, but the look on Malfoy’s face immediately made Harry want to take back what he said.

Malfoy swallowed heavily, sneering at Harry. “He’s doing just fine, thanks for asking.”

Harry knew that Malfoy’s father—Lucious Malfoy, of course—was currently locked away in Azkaban after his trial. Fortunately, Malfoy and his mother, Narcissa, were lucky enough to get a light sentence, presumably because Narcissa helped Harry during the war with that small lie she had told to Voldemort, and Malfoy because he was just Malfoy.

Well, not just because he was Malfoy. Mostly from the fact he was only a teenage boy who didn’t know any better, and that he was threatened to death if he hadn’t done what Voldemort had told him to do. Sure, he had done inexcusable evil things, and maybe that was why the public didn’t react well to his sentence, but surely it wasn’t worse than what Lucius Malfoy had done. Still, the public hated him.

Even though Harry was the one speaking for him during the trial.

Even after awkward small talk in the courthouse hallway and Malfoy’s small mumble of, “Thank you” after he was sentenced only a few months of house arrest, Malfoy still came back brattier than ever at the start of the new school year. Even though he was mostly an enigma and a little quiet, once Harry tried to talk to him, he realized that Malfoy’s personality still hadn’t changed, even though during those quiet moments of silence, Malfoy’s eyes always seemed a bit… distant. Almost like he was mourning something.

Even through Malfoy’s facade, Harry could still see everything, he could see that he struck a nerve, and he knew that he shouldn’t feel bad, but then why did he suddenly guilty? It wasn’t like he hadn’t said anything horrible to Malfoy before; hell, he had said worse things in the past, and the sneering blonde had always jibed with something worse.

So, how come Harry felt like absolute shit?

“Malfoy, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way,” Harry finally said.

Malfoy had a passive look on his face. “We used to be sharper to each other.”

“What?” Harry replied, though he was thinking the same thing.

“We sort of dulled out now. Don’t you miss that? When we bickered, I mean,” Malfoy reiterated.

“We still bicker,” Harry commented.

Malfoy stated, “I know, but back then it just felt, I don’t know… more fun? Maybe we’re getting older now, and our old brains aren’t as witty anymore.”

Harry groaned. “Oh, shut up, will you? Your brain is just reminiscing when you were thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and immediately categorizing it as the best times of your life. I actually sort of don’t miss getting chased around by Voldemort and almost dying every year.”

The initial comment froze the blond boy from pure shock, but then Malfoy sniped back, “Fuck off. I wasn’t thinking about that.” His regular sneering face softened a bit. “I was thinking about the other stuff. Like, I don’t know, regular stuff like learning about Boggarts and dueling each other. Just… stupid stuff.”

Harry, for the first time in this conversation, agreed verbally. “Well, if you’re talking about domestic stuff like going to Hogsmeade with your friends and trying out every candy, then yeah, I sort of do miss that. But it’s no use getting holed up in the past.”

Malfoy’s eyes glimmered in understanding. “Exactly. And our banters! They used to be more fun.”

Harry sent a death glare at Malfoy. “You mean the times you would terrorize me and my friends? That must’ve been fun for you.”

Freezing, as if caught in the act, Malfoy cleared his throat. “Well, but you would fight back.”

“Of course I had to! My friends didn’t, so I had to defend their honour,” Harry proudly admitted. “And mine, of course.”

“Oh, stop spewing bullshit, you were too much of a weak git to properly fight back.” Malfoy suddenly seemed to glance at Harry’s figure from head to toe, analyzing his enemy.

As if a switch had been flipped, Harry’s confidence grew, and so did his smirk. “Sizing me up, huh?” Harry remarked. “If you had a pair of eyes, you’d notice I’m not my fifteen year old self anymore.” But as much as Harry hated to admit it, he didn't quite feel different from the past years mentally.

Malfoy, after staring at Harry’s broad shoulders for a bit too long, rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks a lot for that, genius. You must have a lot going on in that thick skull of yours.”

“Clearly more than yours. How are your grades, by the way?”

“Surely you must’ve noticed by now, but I’ve been skipping classes. You would know that, wouldn’t you? From how you’re sort of my personal stalker.”

“Your ego must be so inflated that you think I’m personally stalking you. Who would stalk the weird outcast boy who is clearly hated by the whole of Hogwarts?”

“Clearly, you would, considering how you followed me in here and forced me to talk about things that I have been doing privately.”

“Private matters that include my late dad?”

“And whose heirlooms are these again?”

“Regulus Black’s, of course.”

“Well, not anymore. News flash, but he’s dead. Sorry to break it to you, but heirlooms don’t work that way.”

Harry was just about to open his mouth to spew a tangent of remarks, when suddenly Malfoy began to laugh.

And not just a short chuckle or a stifled giggle. A full-blown guttural laugh that made Malfoy look like he was having the time of his life. He was currently clutching his stomach and laughing his heart out, and Harry couldn’t do anything but stay rooted to his spot, confused on what to do with a laughing Malfoy. He couldn’t help but admit it, but Malfoy’s laugh was sort of beautiful. There was something so rare about the blond boy who always had a sneer or a scowl on his face to be suddenly laughing in front of Harry like this, carefree and without restraint. Harry felt mesmerized, and he didn’t understand why.

After laughing for so long, Malfoy wiped away imaginary tears and stopped clutching his stomach. He was still smiling when he said, “Oh, Merlin. I missed this.”

“Missed… us talking?” Harry was dumbfounded.

Malfoy fully ignored him. “Forget what I said about us being dull and boring. You’re actually still way more interesting than I thought.” Malfoy shot a grin, and Harry made a weird noise in the back of his throat.

“It’s like you can’t give a compliment unless you insult someone afterwards,” Harry commented. Strangely, he did feel a bit better after Malfoy had said that.

Was something wrong with him?

“I’m not complimenting you, Potter. I’m just speaking my mind.” Malfoy suddenly eyed the Remembring on the floor and quickly said, “So, we’re done for today, right?”

Harry then remembered what he had seen in the alcove.

As Malfoy stood up to stretch his back, Harry responded with, “Wait!”

Malfoy stopped midway from his stretch, looking annoyed. “What now?”

Harry scrambled for his words. “There were more Remembrings, I saw them in the memory.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You sure about that? I clearly remember viewing the first memory over and over, even while throwing up all of my dinner. I was so obsessed with it, that I can even recite all of the lines. Here, let me start: ‘Seriously, do you sometimes forget—’”

Harry interrupted him. “I believe you. But I swear I saw a pile of Remembrings. It was in the corner of the alcove.”

Malfoy paused to mull over the new information. He bit his lip, clearly in a dilemma.

After a while, he responded with, “We’ve been here for a long time now, we should get going. Aren’t your little minions worried about you by now?” Malfoy finished his stretch and just stared at the floor, then at Harry.

Oddly enough, Harry sort of enjoyed viewing Remembrings and mulling over memories, so he was a bit disappointed that he could only see one for a day.

But, in the end, he gave the win to Malfoy.

“Fine,” Harry huffed. “But next time, we’re going to the Forbidden Forest.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “And when is this so called ‘next time?’”

Harry mulled over the options. He could meet up with Malfoy the next day, but being absent for a long period of time from Hermione or Ron would definitely raise suspicion, so he decided for the safest route.

“Saturday. When everyone’s going to Hogsmeade, we could just stay back and pretend to finish homework,” Harry said.

“Alright, Saturday it is, then,” Draco finalized. He turned his back and went ahead to open the door, looking back and staring at Harry.

“See you in two days, Potter.”

The door shut with a soft click, however, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over the pile of small snitches, but he sighed and shook his head and stood up to go back to the common room.

Chapter Text

It was the next day—Friday, a day where Harry did not anticipate nor feel any hatred towards—just straight indifference.

It was no surprise, considering how he was currently running on only three hours of sleep, and the lack of attention was the visible proof; excluding the yawning, of course. Ron, who was beside Harry in the ever grueling class of History of Magic, glanced worrisome looks towards Harry everytime he yawned a bit too loudly.

“Mate, have you slept?” Ron whispered after Harry yawned his tenth time.

Harry shook his head, wiping away tears that were the result of his freakishly long yawn. “Couldn’t.”

Ron pursed his lips. “Insomnia?”

Harry nodded, which only made Ron frown in return.

By now, Harry’s best friends, Ron and Hermione, knew about Harry’s unusual condition after the war; insomnia. It wasn’t like Harry couldn’t fall asleep, he was actually sort of good at that. It was just the nightmares that harboured his thoughts in his sleep that made him wake up earlier than intended.

Flashes of green, screams, blood, everything played in Harry’s sick and twisted mind without consent. He would wake up covered in sweat and a bruise that he probably hit himself out of sheer panic. His palms would have crescent marks from how hard his hands were gripping onto themselves, and his hair would stick to his forehead even though his bed head was incredibly hard to tame.

It was grueling and tiresome, but no matter what Harry tried, the nightmares never went away.

Ron sighed, writing something down that Professor Binns said. “I worry for you, man.”

Harry grunts an incoherent reply. “You don’t have to worry for me, Ron.”

Ron sputtered. “What do you mean? I don’t just choose to worry about you, Harry. I just care about you, and it’s not like I quite have a choice, either.”

Harry wasn’t familiar with unconditional love until he met his friends at Hogwarts, so the foreign feeling never came to him naturally. Harry just smiled, strained.

“No, but really, there’s really no point in worrying if there’s nothing to worry about,” Harry reassured.

It seemed like Ron finally understood that Harry wanted to drop the subject or just not talk about it in class, so he nodded and turned away to work on his paper.

The day went by grueling and slow, and it seemed to show visibly every time Harry’s leg bounced up and down and his right hand twiddled with his quill. It finally caught up to him when Hermione told him to stop fidgeting with his wand and to stop staring at Draco Malfoy.

“I wasn’t staring at him!” Harry defensively said.

Hermione hushed him. “The professor’s talking. But, you were staring at Malfoy, just so you know. There isn’t anyone behind you except for him,” she whispered.

Harry looked behind him again, and of course, Malfoy was there looking lost, focusing on Professor Greywater—the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor—instead. He was currently explaining the importance of timing and when one should properly put up a shield instead of attacking.

“Of course, most of you enjoy the thrill of being on the offense, but those are for hot headed witches and wizards who do not understand the importance of defending. If you do not realize that they are both equally important, dueling will be exceptionally difficult for you to win.” The professor looked around the lot of Eighth years with a scrutinized look. “Now, I have personally observed you within this past month and so, for this reason, I shall make my point by pairing you up with someone I think completely contradicts your dueling style.”

The professor began spewing names from his list, but Harry blinked from his reverie after the professor called out his and Malfoy’s name together.

“Malfoy, sir?” Harry asked again.

“Yes, is there a problem?” Professor Clearwater clarified.

Harry looked back to see Malfoy’s neutral expression, and shook his head. For some odd reason, the blond boy seemed to be nervous.

After the list was finished being called, Harry could see people begin to duel with their other partner. Flashes of blue and red came out of their wands, and grunts and huffs were heard throughout the classroom.

But, for some odd reason, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter did not move an inch.

That was a lie, since they were currently facing each other with an awkward air of silence sitting between them.

It was odd, because Harry could exactly remember the last time they dueled, which ended in Malfoy being cut all over, bleeding out on the bathroom floor. He could remember the blood slowly flowing from his body to the bathroom floor, seeping into the tiles. He remembered the stone-cold look on Snape’s face when he had told him what had happened. Harry, unfortunately, remembered it all.

It was odd, because the professor had said that he partnered people with the exact opposite dueling style, but as far as Harry could recall, Malfoy was the exact same aggressive duelist as Harry. But maybe Harry didn’t exactly know Malfoy anymore, since it had been more than two years since their official duel. Maybe, Malfoy changed.

“Erm, so… Are we going to,” Harry began, cringing at his awkward tone.

Malfoy coughed into the back of his hand. “Sure, Potter.”

It was evident that Malfoy wasn’t the same person behind closed doors, because the awkward tension surely wasn’t helping their current situation. If anything, Harry sort of missed the Malfoy who jabbed snarky remarks at him. This Malfoy, the one in public, was less witty and more reclusive.

Harry hated it.

The two began walking away from each other to stand a few miles apart, front facing stiffly. Then, they both drew out their wands to begin dueling.

But as they were dueling and spewing out spells, Harry didn’t expect Malfoy to be so…

Cautious.

It was like Malfoy was purposefully holding himself back and only casting shield spells and an occasional Expelliarmus once in a while. It annoyed Harry that the other boy was devoid of any spark or interest; like their relationship from years before disappeared without a trace. It was like their rough history never existed, and Malfoy was just a random boy who he had a neutral liking to.

At that moment, Harry understood why the professor had paired them up together. It was because Draco Malfoy was completely different than before.

His once offensive stance was now defensive, his ability to be quick-witted with flashy spells was now mellowed down with a shield spell, and his overall enthusiasm had died down. Harry absolutely despised this new version of Malfoy, even if their old rivalry died, long gone from the Fiendfyre and screams of their loved ones.

Harry wanted to rekindle the flame, he wanted Malfoy to grit his teeth in anger.

“Expelliarmus,” Harry casted, even though there was no point for him since he could do wandless magic.

Malfoy casted another quick shield spell—stronger, this time—the blue cast glowing in unison to Harry’s spell trying to break it.

Harry cast another one, and another, trying to break Malfoy’s stubborn shield that he always liked to cast. He could see Malfoy stumble back a bit each time Harry induced more power into his spell. The red zap glowed brighter than ever from his wand, making Malfoy step back. Behind the red glow and the blue shield, he could see Malfoy’s strained face.

A flash of annoyance overlooked Malfoy’s face, which made Harry beam in victory. For an odd reason, he thrived in the other boy’s reactions.

A millisecond after Harry casted his next Expelliarmus, something seemed to snap in Malfoy.

“Stupefy!” Malfoy yelled, which caught Harry off guard.

The spell almost hit Harry, but he brought up a wandless shield almost immediately. The spell bounced off and shattered a foreign object nearby.

Harry was grinning ear-to-ear now, looking at Malfoy’s huffing figure who seemed a bit irked.

“Was that fucking wandless magic?” Malfoy blurted.

Harry’s face fell. “Erm, yeah, I—”

“Expelliarmus!” Malfoy shouted. Harry’s wand was suddenly flung out of his hand and thrown across the floor.

Harry’s jaw dropped. “That wasn’t fair! You purposefully distracted me—”

Malfoy had an ecstatic look on his face. “Oi! There’s no rule saying you can’t use a distraction. I won, fair and square.”

“Fair and square? You’ve got to be joking, that was the most foul—”

“Go ahead and throw your tantrum,” Draco taunted.

A vein popped out of Harry’s jaw. “Tantrum? That’s rich coming from the most stuck up, pureblood, posh boy I know.”

Draco sniped back, “I thought blood status didn’t mean anything to you, Potter.”

Harry was just about to respond back when Professor Greywater intervened. “Now, go on and tell me, boys, why on Merlin’s name are you two fighting? I didn’t exactly mean to verbally fight when I said duelling.”

Harry shot a blazed look at Malfoy as he muttered, “Sorry, Professor. It won’t happen again.” From the other end, he could hear the same thing as well.

Professor Greywater seemed pleased. “Very well, then. If you two are done with duelling, you can go ahead and leave.”

Harry looked around to notice the amount of students missing inside the classroom. For eighth years specifically, they were allowed to leave the Defence classrooms anytime they felt like their dueling lessons were sufficiently learned. The only students who were left still dueling were Neville and his partner, Seamus.

Harry glanced a quick look towards Draco, but the blond boy seemed to have other ideas, as he was quick to leave the room in an instant.

The flurry of the boy made Harry’s instincts fire up, to go chase after him, but he knew better. After all, in public eye, they were only seen as long lost enemies rather than two boys who only acknowledged each other’s existences. It was a bit uncanny, however, to just let Draco Malfoy run off like that without chasing after him.

Harry walked through the door after a minute of contemplation, then his feet dragged him through the quiet hallways of Hogwarts, listening to the occasional conversations of people passing by. He heard the words, “Hogsmeade” and “tomorrow” quite a lot, which he wasn’t quite jealous of since he really had no motivation to go on a Hogsmeade trip just yet. He saw first-years and their booming giggles echoing throughout the courtyards, and the Ravenclaws holding stacks of paper, studying while in the midst of walking.

Finally, he arrived in front of the common room, which was a huge mistake when he saw Ginny and the first thing she asked with a warm smile was, “Do you have time tomorrow?”

Nothing was really wrong between Ginny and Harry, but after the war, they just seemed to drift off into their separate ways. Ginny was still the brave, charming, witty, girl before the war—though the stuff she went through never truly went away—Harry was still the boy he was, too, it was just that the world seemed too fast-paced for him and he was tired from trying to catch up.

So, there was nothing wrong between the two of them. So Harry was confused when he responded back with, “Sorry, I’ve got homework to do.”

Ginny made a face. “Homework? Harry, it’s a Saturday, and everyone and their mum is going to Hogsmeade. You should at least go once in a while.”

“I know,” Harry replied. “It’s just—” He couldn’t say the real reason was that he had to go to the Forbidden Forest with Malfoy to search for memories of his dad and his secret lover, so he said, “I actually do have homework. I promise I’ll go next week, okay?”

Ginny bore a judgmental, yet playful, look on her face. “Alright, but if you don’t, you’ll have to go to a sleep therapist.”

“Oh, come on.” Harry playfully shoved her aside, earning a chuckle from the red-haired girl.

“I mean it, Harry. I know you haven’t been getting a lot of sleep,” Ginny said to the back of her shoulder as Harry walked up towards the dormitory. “It’s evident from this.” She points to the spot under her eyes.

“Oh, shove off.” Harry rolled his eyes, but was undoubtedly smiling. “Goodnight, Ginny.”

“Night, Harry!” Ginny hollered before Harry walked all the way over to his dorm and closed the door shut.

The tired boy immediately let out a long sigh; he didn’t know he was holding one in. Then, almost methodically, he scrambled over to his trunk and grabbed the Marauder’s Map to search for a name he had always searched for during his adolescent years.

“Draco Malfoy” was written across the map in fancy cursive letters in the dormitory near Harry’s right. He could see the tiny footsteps walking around his bathroom—which Harry guessed—then walking away to finally go and sleep. He noticed Blaise Zabini across from Malfoy, who also appeared to be sleeping, as he was still. Harry still hadn’t had the chance to ever talk to the stoic boy, but if he did, he knew it would be awkward and painfully quiet. Harry hadn’t had the chance to really talk to anyone after the war, actually, which might’ve been the reason why he was subconsciously avoiding everyone.

“Interesting hobby you’ve got there,” Ron announced, amused.

Harry jolted from where he was crouched on the ground, immediately turning around to see Ron towel drying his hair in freshly dressed pajamas. Harry guiltily looked away as he stuffed the map deep beneath his luggage.

“Merlin, you scared me,” Harry said, trying to change the topic. He stood up and immediately sat on his bed.

Ron snorted. “Sorry, mate.” He flung the used towel into a nearby laundry basket and looked at Harry’s face for a few seconds, before frowning. “You still having those nightmares?”

Harry nodded, yawning. “Either that or I just can’t sleep at all.”

“You know,” Ron started. “I’m seriously debating whether or not I should just force you to go to a Mind Healer.”

Harry let out a laugh. “It’s not that serious for me to go to a Mind Healer.”

Ron shrugged, padding over to his bed and fluffing his pillow. “Who knows.” His hands stopped, glancing one quick look over to Harry. “Are you stalking Malfoy again?”

“What?”

Ron defended himself, “It’s a fair question! I mean—it’s the start of a new year, of course you’re off tailing Malfoy's whereabouts and all that.”

“What—” Harry was stunned. “That was only sixth year!”

Ron looked at him strangely, then tucked himself into his bed. “Just go to sleep, Harry.”

Harry’s mouth was still too stunned to speak, so he saved himself the embarrassment and quickly jumped up from his bed, went over to the bathroom to brush his teeth, change his clothes, and turn the lights off.

As he slid into his bed, all thoughts of Malfoy still lingered in his head. Was he still stalking Malfoy, like back in the day? It must have been apparent if Ron had caught on, and Harry didn’t want the whole Wizarding World to be hounding on him and Malfoy’s interactions, so he promised to never talk in public with Malfoy casually.

As he drifted into a pointless sleep—where he’d probably get woken up in the next hour or so—glimpses of platinum blond hair and a snarky grin could be seen through Harry’s closed eyes.

~

“Draught of Peace,” Hermione exasperated. “How could you not know what that is?”

Ron fumbled for his words trying to defend his case, tying his shoelaces by placing his foot on a nearby couch. “Hermione, not all of us are ahead of our subjects like you, and as I know it, everyone in our year is behind because we were in a literal war last year.”

The annoyed girl just rolled her eyes, tightening the grip on her bag. “C’mon, hurry up, the rest must already be at Hogsmeade by now.” She flicked her eyes towards Harry, then pursed her lips. “You sure you’re not going?”

Harry nodded with vigor. “Positive.”

Hermione let out a noncommittal hum. “Well, hope that homework goes well for you.” But the tone in her voice seemed unconvinced and suspicious. Harry coughed into the back of his hand. “I mean,” she started. “The Draught of Peace should be something you should start studying on, because we’re going to be brewing it on Monday.”

“Ah,” Harry reacted and nodded, as Ron exclaimed, “And how do you know that?”

Ron finished up his shoelaces, walking over to gently take hold of Hermione’s bag into his shoulders instead. “Because,” Hermione began, smiling at the gesture. “I actually ask the professor questions after class.”

The pair began to slowly walk towards the doorway, bickering about whatever nonsense they thought about. The corner of Harry’s mouth edged into a smile as he yelled out, “Have fun on your date, you two!”

A loud sputter of, “What?” could be heard before the door slammed closed.

As the loud shut of the door echoed through the common room, Harry immediately stood up, waited a few seconds before bolting straight up the flight of stairs leading to the dorms. When he arrived at his dorm, he went immediately to his trunk to quickly pull out the map to find the name he always looked for.

Malfoy’s cursive name was currently hidden in one of the many alcoves Hogwarts had. Harry raised an eyebrow and closed the map, stuffing it back in his trunk and quickly running back down the stairs.

It was no surprise when Harry found Malfoy in record speed, panting as he spotted the blond tucked away, perched on a low window with a book in hand.

As he approached closer, he noticed the title of the book and raised an eyebrow. He leaned over the pale boy and read the title out loud.

“Ancient Artifacts and Other Things,” Harry said, counting the blond lashes as it fluttered up at Harry.

The eyes soon furrowed. “Potter? What are you doing here?”

Harry blanked. “Well—Erm, I was just walking and I saw you here.” He couldn’t visibly see himself getting flustered, but it was evident enough for Malfoy to glare suspicious daggers at him.

Malfoy seemed to finally let it go as he shrugged and went back to reading his book. He flipped the next page and Harry’s want for attention finally snapped.

“When are we going to the Forbidden Forest?” Harry blurted.

The hand that flipped the page stilled, ice-blue eyes staring back at him indignantly. “I assumed after everyone’s gone to Hogsmeade.”

Harry stopped leaning and his hand left the cold grip from the wall above him. “Yeah, well everyone’s left.” He crossed his arms and tried to look adamant.

Malfoy must’ve realized Harry’s stubbornness, as he finally sighed, closed his book, and turned his body to stand beside Harry.

He began speed walking when he turned back and yelled, “Well? Are you going to just stand there like an idiot or actually follow me?”

Harry’s feet moved before he could think.

~

The walk to the Forbidden Forest was quiet, yet Harry relished in the sort of peaceful trance that they had.

It was a sort of peace that wasn’t awkward, however, the two of them dodging bodies of students in the hallways was sort of uncomfortable and downright embarrassing, the rest was fine.

They neared the edge of the Forbidden Forest when Malfoy asked him, “So, how are we going to find this supposed ‘secret cove’?”

Harry thought for a few seconds, then shrugged and started walking confidently. “I sort of know what it looks like, we’ll get there eventually.”

Malfoy sputtered behind him, trying to catch up with Harry’s quick strides as they got deeper into the forest. “Potter, are you serious? Do you know how big the Forbidden Forest is? We’ll never find it like this.”

Harry took a quick glance at their surroundings, only to be visioned with huge, towering trees that quickly shadowed over the sky. It somehow felt… eerie, even though it was bright in the afternoon. He was somehow hyper aware of the breathing beside him, the screeches of nearby birds, the smell of pine, and the occasional rustle in the bushes.

Harry almost tripped on a tree root, stumbling a bit as he said, “Well, it’s not like we could just locate the Remembrings.” He paused, stopping his tracks and so did the body beside him.

He thought of all the information he had learned throughout the seven years of learning at Hogwarts, trying to remember a specific spell that could locate an object from faraway.

Malfoy looked confused, and his face filled with a slight hint of paranoia as he looked around his premise. “Why’d we stop?”

Just then, Harry brought out his wand from his pocket—which, considerably made Malfoy step back on instinct—and pointed it out in front of him and casted, “Invenio Remembring!”

The wand jerked in his hand harshly, acting like a needle to a compass and pointing to Harry’s right. The smug boy looked back at Malfoy, who seemed to be even more confused.

“You and your flashy spells.” The blond was slightly impressed by the raise of his eyebrows. He quickly began to walk to Harry's right as he called out, “Hurry up, I’m getting creeped out already.”

The playful smile creeped up on Harry’s face. “Oh, is Draco Malfoy scared?” he replied with a tease in his voice.

“It’s not like you’re not getting creeped out either!” Malfoy remarked back defensively.

Harry let out a chuckle, finally catching up to the blond boy, who kept looking around as if something were to lunge out and attack him. “This sort of reminds me of first year.”

That remark made Malfoy bark out a laugh. “Oh, right. When we both had to serve detention in here. Merlin, what sort of punishment is that?”

“No kidding. Seriously, forcing four kids to be alone in the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night while a Dark Lord was on the loose?” Harry responded. “I remember you being so scared you ran out of the forest and left me with Fang. You know, that truly was the first time I’ve ever seen you that scared.”

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, “Do you blame me? I was only eleven!” He gestured with his hands. “Eleven! And they left me with you and some scrawny dog!”

“Hey!” Harry frowned intentionally. “Y’know I could’ve protected you. I mean, I survived Voldemort once as a baby, so I would’ve defeated him again.”

The slip of the name made Malfoy flinch, and surprisingly, he looked a bit alarmed.

“What? What did I—” Harry closed his mouth, staring at Malfoy who was currently looking away from him. Wait, was he… “Are you still afraid of him? Vol—The Dark Lord?”

Malfoy didn’t respond for a while; the occasional glance from Harry didn’t help, either. It was like all of their conversations beforehand disappeared and now the awkward tension in the air only existed. The awkward boy coughed once and said, “He’s dead, y’know.”

Malfoy scoffed. “I know that. I’m not stupid.” But his scowl faded and replaced it with an entirely different expression—something that Harry had never seen on Malfoy’s face. It was almost like Malfoy was feeling something so intensely; something that hurt him deeply. It was such a new face, that Harry was intrigued; evidently by staring a hole into Malfoy’s face.

“It’s just—” Malfoy started, visibly feeling uncomfortable. “Don’t you ever sort of feel… behind?”

Being left behind by the world was a feeling Harry felt daily, yet he sort of had a hunch that Malfoy was too. He nodded briefly and replied, “All the time.” But he didn’t want to explain more since he wanted Malfoy to pour out his feelings first.

“It’s like,” Draco began again. “Like I’m still stuck on this one turning point in life while everyone else got over it already. Does that sound crazy to you?”

“Not at all.”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Draco continued. “I feel like I’m trying to run towards the will to live while simultaneously trying to survive at the same time, all the while the world is running away from me. Yet, everyone’s ahead of me already. And I just feel so lost.” He looked at Harry with a contemplative look. “How did everyone get over the war so quickly? Or, have they not, and I’m just assuming the best for them. Either way, I just feel sort of left behind with all of my… unresolved thoughts. During the war, I mean.”

Harry stayed quiet, before he said, “I think we all haven’t forgotten about the war. Everyone seems to pretend like everything’s okay, it’s just that both of us are having a hard time pretending, because our brains just can’t seem to forget all the trauma that came along with it.”

Malfoy formed a scowl back on his face, kicking a pebble by his feet. “That’s stupid. This is stupid. Everything’s stupid. I wish I could just forget.”

Forgetting was both a blessing and a curse one could be granted by the world. Forgetting about the war could be seen as a blessing, but all in all, it would mean that all the hardships would be forgotten as well. Forgetting was something Harry both wished he had and didn’t.

Even while looking at the forest around him, Harry couldn’t help but think of his death.

Harry let out a large sigh. “Yeah.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see the blond boy make a distressed sound.

“I feel like a fucking lunatic for saying this, but…” His words died out at the last second, peaking Harry’s interest every second of silence.

“Sometimes, I get these flashes,” Malfoy explained hesitantly. “Of the war. I don’t know why, it’s just one second I’m peacefully eating breakfast in the Great Hall and then suddenly I’m seeing a dead body on the floor, or—” His words got cut off by Harry’s voice snapping him out.

“Malfoy.” His voice was serious; the type of tone that made you snap your mouth shut. “You don’t have to explain, I understand everything you’re feeling.”

Harry would never admittedly say this out loud, but he was afraid that he would understand a little too much with Malfoy about the war, which would prompt them to talk about the subjects of war, the deaths, the grieving in general, and Harry would spiral into a depressive abyss. He decided that talking about their feelings should come with a later date.

“You do?” It seemed like a visible weight was lifted off of the pale boy’s shoulders.

“I do,” Harry comforted. “So don’t bother making yourself uncomfortable with the war talk. We can discuss that later.”

Malfoy tilted his head in worry. “But—”

Just then, Harry turned his head back in front of them to gasp inside his mouth. Malfoy whipped his head with him, and all Harry could see was a familiar cove with overgrown vines growing around the cliff and falling over the entrance.

“This is it,” Harry breathed out. “Merlin, it looks abandoned.”

There were two wooden chairs near the cove alongside a wooden table between them, however it seemed hardly used in a long time from the cracks and splinters it harboured. There was a small tea set, which had empty teacups with orange residue inside them. A willow tree was nearby, and Harry awed at the massive size and its elegant shape.

There was a small-sized lake to the left of them, and by the looks of it, it seemed dead and isolated. Harry ignored everything else and headed straight to the cove. He could hear footsteps following behind him.

Immediately, he began searching through every nook and cranny trying to find those Remembrings, when suddenly behind him, Malfoy exclaimed in surprise.

“I found them,” he said, showing Harry the small pile of golden snitches behind a bush.

Harry smiled in relief and set off to pick one up from the grassy patch of field. He looked Malfoy in the eyes as he spoke, “Wanna do it?”

“What?”

Harry was confused at Malfoy’s appalled face, which was slowly turning flushed by the second. “Like, watching a memory. It’s why we’re here in the first place,” he clarified.

The blond boy seemed to visibly relax once Harry said that, so Harry reached his hand out and asked, “You ready?”

Malfoy steeled himself, ready for the feeling of the world swirling around them. “Ready.” He grabbed Harry’s hand with slight hesitation.

Harry unclasped the small snitch, and his vision began to tilt off its axis.

~

The first thing Harry realized was that Regulus Black was alone for the first time.

The brooding boy was currently hunched over a book, studying on the Quidditch bleachers in the bleak of winter. There was no visible snow, though the chill was enough to make Regulus shudder every now and then.

“How come it feels so cold?” Malfoy complained, crossing his arms over his body.

Harry was hit well with the fact of the chill biting his skin. “No clue. Maybe we’re feeling what Regulus’ is feeling.” The thought of sharing senses suddenly made Harry very uncomfortable.

Malfoy seemed to grimace as he made the choice of sitting down beside the hunched over boy. He tried to warm up his hands with his breath as Harry slowly sat down beside the blond boy. Even though the winter air chilled Harry’s ears with no mercy, he enjoyed the mundane sky; the grey reflecting on its weather, cold and frost. He felt like he was in the moment, which was ridiculous considering this moment was decades from the past.

He glanced over Malfoy to peer at Regulus more closely. The black haired boy was a victim of the winter weather, as well. His wavy hair was fitted into a dark green beanie with a bobble knitted at the top. His pale complexion was now stained with a slight light red on his cheeks and ears, and his fingers were fitted into knitted black gloves. His body seemed to be swimming in his overbearingly large jacket and his puffy winter pants.

“Nice one, James!” an overly excited voice called out faraway through the white Quidditch field.

Regulus glanced up unexpectedly, squinting his eyes in front of him and scowling as he went back to his book. Malfoy seemed to do the same as he followed his line of vision, and curiosity got the best of Harry as he also decided to look out in front of him.

Out in the chilly air, Sirius Black and Harry’s dad seemed to be practicing a round of catch between a Quaffle. Harry felt a strange panging in his chest as he watched his godfather and dad play Quidditch up in the air with their brooms. It was like watching a forgotten memory of the past—but one where it was Harry’s dad’s school years.

“Oh, fuck—Watch out!” a voice suddenly yelled.

Beside him, Malfoy instinctively ducked, as Harry only looked ahead of him, watching a flash of a ball almost hit Regulus directly in the head. The Quaffle merely thudded beside Regulus’ head, making the hunched boy flinch in surprise.

Regulus swiveled his head, sneering at James and Sirius. “What the fuck,” he said, but the distance between the three boys only made it so Regulus, Harry, and Malfoy could hear. Malfoy blinked in surprise, feigning a slight annoyance. Harry found the resemblance of the blond and the black haired boy slightly funny.

Harry could hear a rush of the sound of a broom whipping by. Harry turned his head to sit face to face with his dad.

James Potter was currently scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh, it’s you, Regulus. Sorry, didn’t mean for the ball to almost hit you.” His broom was slowly inching towards the scowling boy, who only glared straight at James.

The broom motioned to a stop. “If you could… Erm, pass the ball, that’d be great.”

Regulus slowly hunched down to pick up the Quaffle as James, who was currently hovering in the air, was waiting expectantly. Harry could tell the moment his dad realized Regulus wasn’t going to give the ball up just yet.

“I understand your dedication, but practicing in this sort of weather is a bit too much, don’t you think?” Regulus smiled condescendingly, and his grip on the ball tightened.

James looked at Regulus, dumbstruck. “Well—”

“Tell Sirius to throw the fucking ball more accurately next time, it’s my advice.” Regulus threw the ball lightly to James, making him snap out of his trance looking at Regulus’ face and fumble for the Quaffle.

James opened his mouth, but the black haired boy beat him to it.

“Good on you for working on your Quidditch skills, considering how our team won last week.” Regulus smiled slyly as he went to hunch over his book again.

The passive aggressive comment made James’ jaw drop slightly as he continued to hover in the air. Regulus’ silence must have cued James to slowly fly back, and as Harry squinted, he could see James relaying the whole interaction with Sirius in the air, waving his arms dramatically.

Harry looked over to see Malfoy’s face, but his vision began to swirl.

~

Reality came back into focus, the smell of pine hitting his nose and the slightly cold breeze gliding over his skin. The sky still looked the same as before, they were still partially in the cove, and the figure beside Harry was currently groaning.

“I feel nauseous,” Malfoy complained, sitting and covering his stomach.

Harry quizzically looked at Malfoy’s blank face as he soon realized something. The blond boy quickly scrambled over to the nearest bush and retches were soon heard, echoing throughout the trees.

It was strange to Harry, because if anything, he was a bit dizzy but still more content than Malfoy seemed. It wasn’t like there was a force of magic making Malfoy throw up, or perhaps, it was a completely different factor.

The blond seemed to be finished throwing up, sitting back and looking like he had seen better days. Harry sighed as he stood up, knees cracking as he said, “We should get back, it’s getting late.”

Malfoy agreed with a nod, standing up dizzily, grabbing onto Harry’s arm in the process. The sudden physical contact startled Harry, but he supported Malfoy until he no longer needed it, even though it seemed like Malfoy’s hand was burning Harry’s forearm.

As the pair walked back to Hogwarts, the silence in the air was prone, yet Harry thrived in it. Malfoy didn’t seem to mind, either, and as they slowly walked back, they could see the first sign of their school.

Rightfully, the sun was beginning to set in a beautiful descent down to the horizon line, the rays of red, orange, and yellow cascading down onto the ripples of water. Harry could see the massive castle, a backdrop against the lake and the shades of orange, yellow, blue, and purple behind it all.

Harry’s breath was taken away by the view, and glancing to his left, he could see Malfoy wearing the same expression.

The two walked slowly, enjoying the view, weather, and most of all, the memories they viewed. And Harry didn’t mind it when he came back to his dorm late at night, getting suspicious questions from Ron, asking where he was.