Harry was awake at six am the next morning. Not because of any alarm, but rather because he had not managed to fall asleep at all the night before. He'd lain, concealed by the drapes of his four poster bed, weeping silently, a hand clasped over his mouth to suppress the noise even with the presence of a silencing charm. At ten past six, he gave up, swinging himself out of his bed. If he had a slow shower, he'd be ready in time for the start of breakfast.
He avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he washed up, not quite prepared to see the young face that would stare back at him, and the new angry red scar stretching across his throat, but he did take the time to submerge his face in a sink of ice cold water. He wasn't sure it did anything for his swollen eyes, but he did find it strangely calming.
It wasn't until he was at the Great Hall that he stumbled across another human being - Minerva McGonagall was sat alone at the faculty table, and looked increasingly alarmed by his appearance and the mild limp in his step as he approached the Gryffindor table. She was on her feet and in front of him before he had even decided whether or not to eat in the Great Hall, or simply fill his bag and take it with him to the Room of Requirement.
"Potter," she said, her voice as gentle as he had ever heard it, resting her hands first on his shoulders before pressing a cold palm to his forehead, "Are you sure you shouldn't still be in the hospital wing? You look terrible - have you even slept?" Her eyes flicked down to his neck for a moment.
"No," he paused to try and improve his croaky voice, "No, I haven't slept, but I don't want to go back to the hospital wing,"
She took his hand in hers and rolled his sleeve back slightly to feel for his pulse along his wrist, "Perhaps just for one more night Potter - some more dreamless sleep might do you good," he knew that Minerva secretly had a soft heart, especially when it came to her students, but he didn't think he'd ever heard her sounding quite so motherly. It immediately made him well up again, and he was quick to wipe away the tear that escaped with his free hand. She pretended not to notice, "You're heart is going ten to the dozen," reluctantly, she released him.
"I don't want to go to the hospital wing," he repeated more firmly, "It's not going to make me feel better,"
"At this point Potter, I'm more concerned about someone keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't collapse! Have you at least been speaking to your friends? It does us no good to carry such burdens alone," Her voice trailed off into nothing, her eye caught by something behind him. He turned to see that Draco was frozen in the entrance to the hall. He seemed marginally more put together than Harry, but still looked dead on his feet. He twitched his lips in Harry's direction, "Mister Malfoy, if you would be so kind as to come over here please," expressionless, he did as he was told until he and Harry were side by side, "You look nearly as bad as Potter!" She snatched Draco's hand in hers, and hunted for his pulse too.
Draco looked mildly affronted but made no comment, looking to Harry instead. Minerva's eyes flicked between them, searching - he could practically hear the question on the tip of her tongue. Finally, she released Draco.
"Well," she started, "Mister Potter if you won't go to the hospital wing, I must insist you stay away from class for the rest of the term, and give yourself some time to recover," she paused, "I will leave it to your discretion if Mister Malfoy, or one of your other friends joins you - I'd rather you weren't alone at this precise moment," she gave a long suffering sigh, and with a sweep of her wand, more food than they could possibly eat was piling into their bags, "If you begin to feel any more unwell, you must attend the hospital wing, do you understand?" he nodded at the firm wagging of her finger, "Well then, you are dismissed."
They trudged in silence all the way up to the seventh floor. Harry handed his bag silently to Draco, who accepted it, sagging visibly under the extra weight. Draco waited at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall, while Harry began to walk back and forth in front of the tapestry. He couldn't quite form the words for what he wanted, and instead fixated on a mental image, trusting the room to understand. On his third pass, the door appeared. Draco pushed himself away from the wall, waving Harry off when he tried to take his bag back.
The space was nothing special, but he thought it was probably what they needed - familiar. It was like stepping into Crocker's office at the ministry; panelled, book-shelf lined walls, a brass light fitting hanging from the ceiling emitting a warm yellow light, a silver filing cabinet in the corner, and two wooden chairs on wheels positioned in front of a huge, battered, oak desk. Whereas normally a worn leather chair would have been positioned behind the desk, instead there was a large blackboard - blank and ready to be used.
Listlessly, they emptied some of the food in their bags out onto the desk - finding that McGonagall had bottled pumpkin juice for them as well. They were finally slouched in their chairs, eyes fixed on the blackboard, but saying nothing. Harry would compare the feeling to coming home after an exceptionally long holiday - everything was familiar but you couldn't quite believe this was your real life. Draco seemed equally dazed, eyes dancing around the room, occasionally finding Harry's throat, but not seeming to really absorb anything.
"I can't believe this is happening," Draco said finally, "It feels like we're in a dream,"
"A nightmare," Harry muttered, "Part of me wants to go back to bed and hide a bit longer," he admitted.
"We can if you want?" Draco offered, though he looked like the thought of returning to the dormitory made him feel sick.
"No, I think we should at least try and talk this through - I think the distraction will do us good,"
Draco nodded slowly, nibbling on a slice of toast, "Where do we want to start?"
Harry said the thing that had been playing on his mind the most, "How much do we change? It's not just our children that might not be born because of our choices,"
Draco's answer came faster than Harry would have anticipated, "Equally, who are we prepared to let die when we know we could save them?" Draco questioned, "The horse has already bolted in terms of changing things - there's no going back. Do we sacrifice the living, in favour of the theoretical unborn? We aren't like Eloise Mintumble - our future has been completely unwritten. But we should bear in mind that our new choices could result in people who had previously lived, dying, and I think we need to make our peace with that now, or we'll go crazy," as he spoke, Draco seemed to emerge from his own head and settle into a comfortable lecturing mode - clearly discussing something he knew a great deal about.
"What did you specialise in at the Department of Mysteries?" Harry could have probably guessed the answer.
"The theoretical applications and implications of time travel, both moral, theological, and practical. I also dabbled a little in the multiverse theory, but only in the context of how changes in the timeline create new branches and new realities. Not enough to truly understand the topic," Harry smiled softly to himself; he'd never realised how similar Draco and Hermione actually were, "And you?"
"Ah well, you see, that brings us neatly to my next topic," Harry flicked his wand at the blackboard, and the piece of white chalk at the bottom twitched into action to write a single word on the board: Horcruxes. There was a moment of silence.
"Horcruxes?" Draco said hesitantly - Harry nodded, "I've heard the word," Draco admitted, "But I could find basically nothing on the topic the one time I tried to dig further,"
"That was my influence actually - I had all books that mentioned them purged, or confined to the Department of Mysteries," Harry sipped his pumpkin juice, "I was primarily responsible for managing dark magical artefacts that would otherwise fall outside of the Auror's purview - items so dark or so dangerous that they couldn't be exposed to the wider public. Horcruxes are the reason that that became my niche to begin with. What do you already know?"
"Essentially nothing," Draco said with a shrug.
"A Horcrux," Harry began, "Is an item within which a witch or wizard may hide a piece of their soul so that, in the event of their death, they do not truly die and can be resurrected," Draco had gone pale, his mouth falling open, "To create a Horcrux, you must first tear your soul in half by committing murder, and then use a powerful magical ritual to store it within an item of your choosing,"
Draco took a shaky sip of his pumpkin juice before lowering it to the desk, "Voldemort has a horcrux," he whispered.
Harry could only smile sadly and shake his head, "He had seven," Draco gasped, looking truly horrified, "And before he can be defeated, we must destroy them all,"
"Oh fuck Potter," shaking hands raked themselves through Draco's hair. "Fuck fuck FUCK!" he was suddenly on his feet, pacing back and forth, "This is going to be impossible," Harry watched him stalk about the room, "I know you've done it before, but you were at least of age! How are we meant to sneak about destroying bits of Voldemort's soul?!"
"Surely we have an advantage? We know the future,"
"Except we don't, Potter," Draco snapped, "We know what happened in our past - and while I'm certain that will give us a leg up on things, we're now living our present moving into a new future. And the more we change in our present, the more that effect will multiply until we can no more predict the outcome than any other person. The future is not the future any more,"
"Back to the Future got it wrong?" Harry muttered, disappointed, and slightly confused as the word 'future' had begun to lose all meaning.
"If you could not make niche muggle references when I'm like this I would really appreciate it,"
"We could tell Dumbledore?"
"NO!" Draco spun and stopped in place, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, "No, no we can't tell anyone! If anyone gets wind that we meddled with time, even unintentionally, the best we can hope for is a cell in Azkaban for the rest of our lives - more likely though, is we end up confined to the Department of Mysteries to be experimented on and then sent to Azkaban," he resumed his anxious pacing.
"Okay, so we're on our own," Harry said, mostly to himself, "This is going to take a lot of planning - gonna' end up like a bloody heist movie - like Ocean's Eleven or something,"
"Sweet Circe, please stop," Draco snapped - under other circumstances, Harry would have rolled his eyes; today though, he simply continued to watch Draco pace, "Fuck it, I don't think I can deal with this today," Draco turned abruptly as if to leave, but froze.
The Room had begun to change. The wall behind them (where the door had been) had begun to peel back on itself, shrinking and revealing a stretch of room in front of them that was shifting and twisting and convulsing as the walls changed. A fireplace popped out of the wall, and furniture warped into existence, and a new door appeared with a creak of splintering and snapping wood. A fire roared into being in the hearth, and tiles scuttled out from in between the bricks and scurried their way across the walls until they settled into their intended place. A wall to the left began to stretch itself open into an archway, and now they could only hear as the Room formed an extra space for them just outside of their view.
Hesitantly, Draco ventured into the new room to investigate, but Harry couldn't move. He knew this room.
It was the kitchen at Grimmauld place - not as he knew it to be now, run down and musty and unloved, but as it had been when he'd made it into his home, right down to the chip in the corner of the dining table from when Albus had tripped running through the room and bashed his chin off of it. Some of the furniture was wrong though, he noticed, overcoming his shock to venture forward. The chairs were a darker, richer wood with cushioned seats, and where he'd had a modern oven installed in the real kitchen, this one had an impressive bottle green Aga.
"This is my study," Harry had almost forgotten Draco was with him - he was stood in the huge archway, staring into the space in front of him.
The flooring was a dark hard wood, and the walls were a grey wallpaper with, what Harry realised upon closer inspection, an intricate pattern of tiny snakes. Positioned diagonally in the corner of the room was a desk - it was much richer in appearance than the one the Room had copied from Crocker's office, with gold inlay and clawed feet. It was precisely organised with a selection of neat paraphernalia, such as spare quills, neatly rolled up parchment, and a luminous yellow glass pot filled with various trinkets. Behind the desk was an imposing leather chair, and behind that was a gramophone.
The room was completely unfamiliar to Harry, but he noticed immediately that some of its furnishings were not. The large sofa flush against the back wall was his - soft, coffee coloured fabric, and laden with a million blankets and cushions. It looked distinctly out of place in Draco's space which, though cozy in its own right, looked as if every bit of furniture had been chosen specifically to complement the room as a whole.
"That's not the right sofa though," Draco said curiously.
"It's mine - this your Aga?" Said Harry, and Draco approached the appliance, nodding, "This is my kitchen,"
"The Room gave us somewhere familiar?" Said Draco; Harry nodded, but anything else he might have said was cut short when he noticed what was sat at the end of the dining room table. He stepped forward, extending a shaking hand to sink his fingers into soft, velvet green fabric, "What's that?"
Harry drew the plush dragon to his chest - he pressed its head to his nose and inhaled deeply, disappointed when, instead of the scent of Lily's hair, he only smelt new, clean fabric, "This is Hector," he said softly, clutching him close, "I bought him for Lily three years ago," he looked up, blinking through tears to see that Draco had shuffled closer, agonised guilt peeking through his eyes, "He's very soft," he offered the other the toy, and Draco stroked a finger down its neck.
"He is," he agreed, rubbing his eyes before letting his arm fall limply down by his side. They stood in silence, peering around the room and finding it a source of both comfort and despair in equal measure, "It hurts to look around and remember this isn't real," Draco admitted, "But I don't want to forget," Harry couldn't think of anything to say, "I think we should give ourselves another day. Tomorrow?"
Harry nodded, "Tomorrow."
"You're up early again,"
Harry twitched violently, taken by surprise by Ron sat up in his bed, curtains thrown open. It was just after six again, and Harry had resigned himself to another early start. He'd at least managed a few hours of sleep last night, but dreams of Ginny holding James as a baby in her arms, beaming up at him from her hospital bed had woken him around five, and he'd only just managed to stop crying.
"Yeah," he said hoarsely, "Can't sleep any longer," his eyes flicked over to the other drawn curtains - the others were still sleeping.
"McGonagall said you were excused from classes this week - that's good," Harry could only nod and edge himself out of his bed, his mind still half lingering on his dream, "She said… she said you were hanging out with Malfoy again yesterday," resigned, Harry nodded once more - if he were really fourteen, he thought he probably would have tried to hide this new connection with Draco. And he could totally understand Ron's reticence - teenage Draco was a twat. And he certainly had no reasonable explanation for Ron as to why things had suddenly changed. As it was though, he was actually thirty five, and he wasn't particularly inclined to explain himself to anyone anymore, "Mate, what's going on with you two?" without Hermione there as a filter, Ron's true incredulity came out, "Malfoy's a dick, he's always been a dick! What the hell happened?!"
Harry brushed the sleep out of his eyes, "I'm sorry, you wouldn't understand,"
"Then explain it to me!" Seamus grumbled from behind his curtains, and Ron lowered his voice immediately, "Or at least try to,"
Harry opened his mouth but couldn't think of anything to say - he shook his head, his hand subconsciously coming up to his neck, tentatively feeling the ridges of torn skin.
"I can't - l'm sorry,"
Ron let him go with a sad look.
An hour later found him and Draco in the Room of Requirement again, this time with the kitchen hearth popping merrily behind them while they sat in their office chairs with their legs propped up on the desk. They were staring at the word 'Horcrux' in silence.
Draco finally spoke, "Right. What now?"
"I guess we need to figure out what to do about them," he inclined he head towards the board. Silence descended again.
"… If I gave the impression that I had even the slightest clue as to what our next steps should be, I can only apologise. While I may know more about our situation as inadvertent time travellers, I intend to defer almost entirely to your 'Dark Lord vanquishing expertise' in this instance,"
"I feel like you're being facetious," Harry said shrewdly, "But I will point out that out of the two of us, I am most certainly the most experienced,"
Draco nodded sagely, "Two times," Harry couldn't help the reluctant grin that spread across his face - for a moment it felt like it had when they'd walked to Crocker's office together - Draco's lips quirked back, "Now come on Professor Potter - what's the plan?"
"I suppose," Harry started slowly, "We should tick off the ones we don't need to worry about first," he flicked his wand and the chalk leapt to obey, "His diary," the word 'diary' appeared on the board in his barely legible scrawl, and immediately a large X crossed though it, "I stabbed it with a basilisk fang in second year," he ignored Draco's startled side eye, "And his snake, Nagini," her name appeared on the board, and another X obscured it immediately after, "I chopped her head off two days ago,"
"Using a living creature to hide your soul doesn't seem very wise," Draco said hesitantly, "What if it just runs off or something?"
Harry tried to breathe through the sudden anxious clench in his gut, "You have no idea," he didn't think he could talk about that today, "Now onto the one's we actually need to worry about - Ravenclaw's missing diadem,"
"Not so missing," Draco said lightly.
"No," Harry agreed, "It's in this room actually," Draco started, "You remember at the battle of Hogwarts? It's what we were trying to get,"
"Well lets grab it now! One down, four more to go, perfect!" He looked ready to launch himself out of the room immediately.
"Ah, it's not quite that simple. First of all, we need something to destroy it with - Horcruxes are extremely resistant to almost all forms of magical or practical methods we might use. Last time we used basilisk venom, and the sword of Gryffindor - which is impregnated with basilisk venom. But I'm not overly eager to break into Dumbledore's office so… we need to get a basilisk fang out of the Chamber of Secrets,"
"No," Draco said flatly.
"Yes,"
"You're joking?"
"Not even a little bit," Harry said, smiling as he repeated Draco's words back to him.
Draco took a deep breath, and then released it like he was deflating, "And what's the second reason?"
Harry hesitated, "Dumbledore said he didn't think Voldemort would notice when his Horcruxes were destroyed, but I disagree. I think he became more unstable, and by the time we were down to one or two, he definitely noticed something was wrong. I think we should wait, and time when we destroy them carefully, just in case,"
"Don't want to encourage him to make more," Draco said in agreement, "Okay, what's next?"
"Slytherin's locket,"
"Are all of these Horcruxes priceless historical artefacts Potter?" Draco said incredulously.
"Yeah, pretty much," Harry said apologetically and Draco scoffed, outraged, "Anyway, I know where this one is - its at number twelve Grimmauld Place,"
"Isn't - wasn't," Draco corrected, "that your address?"
"Yeah - its the Black ancestral home, Sirius left it to me when he died. This summer, I'll be attacked by dementors and then taken there for the last two weeks of the holidays, so I can grab it then," Harry's voice trailed off, as something occurred to him for the first time.
His mouth went dry. He felt sick and, suddenly, he truly felt like a child again, small and subject to the will of others. He was only slightly surprised that he'd forgotten - he'd spent so many years trying to block his summer holidays from his memory it only made sense he supposed, "Uh… uhm," he'd completely lost his train of thought.
"What's wrong, Potter?" Harry swallowed thickly, trying to find his words again. All he could see though was the inside of a small cupboard, and bars on windows, and a loose floorboard, and a cat flap in his bedroom door, "Potter?" oh God, he couldn't go back - to be in it, and living and surviving one day to the next was one thing; to have believed yourself free though, only to find yourself back in purgatory, he didn't know if he could survive that, "Harry?"
The touch of Draco's hand on his shoulder, cautious and light, snapped him out of it. He realised he'd been holding his hands in tight fists, and it was with an effort that he relaxed his fingers, half moon crescents left where his nails had been.
"Sorry," his voice came out hoarse, "Sorry, I just- I just realised I'm going to have to go back and live with my aunt and uncle," he muttered, avoiding Draco's gaze.
"Okay… I feel I'm missing something,"
It took a few attempts, but finally Harry managed to say, "They weren't very nice to me," the atmosphere in the room changed instantly - tension, thick and palpable, hung in the air.
"What do you mean Harry?" he finally let himself look at Draco, and was struck by the gentle and patient expression on his face. It was the kind of expression he imagined Draco had used many times with his son, but that looked vaguely strange on the face of a fifteen year old boy on his way to manhood, and definitely felt strange to have directed at himself.
"They didn't hit me or anything, but they didn't do much of what you expect your family to do for you either. No hugs, no 'I love you's. They hated that I was a wizard," he admitted, "They'd lock me in my room for days at a time, and give me food through a cat flap in my door, and they put bars on my window. Called me a freak a lot,"
The chair arm under Draco's hand creaked as his grip tightened, and he took a visible calming breath, "Did anyone know about this?"
Harry wondered if, right now, Draco was imagining his own son in Harry's shoes, and visualising the vengeance he'd take on his behalf. Harry certainly had - it wasn't till he'd had his own children that he'd truly thought about the tragedy of his childhood.
"My first Hogwarts letter was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs - my room until I was eleven," he clarified, and he thought Draco was going to start shouting there and then, "so yeah, they knew,"
"And they sent you back?!" Draco cried, incredulous and disgusted.
"When my mother died for me, she created a kind of magical blood protection that keeps me safe from Voldemort, but only so long as I live with my aunt, her sister. So yeah, every year they sent me back," he said listlessly, "I never thought I'd have to see them again," he whispered.
"Well, that settles it then," Harry looked up at Draco in confusion, "We're just going to have to defeat the Dark Lord before the end of the next school year, so this is the last time you have to go back," he said it with a determined finality.
Harry could only nod and wipe away the tears that had escaped from the corner of his eye, "Not sure I can manage with much more today though," he admitted, voice still thick with emotion.
Draco only shrugged, "It's fine, we've got time. Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," Harry agreed.
If Ron was awake when he clambered out of bed at six again, then he gave no indication, and kept the curtains of his bed drawn closed. Instead, it was Hermione who was waiting for him in the common room when he was on his way out, arms crossed and sipping at a cup of tea. She waved him over when she saw him, and he had no good reason to refuse.
"Good morning,"
"Morning 'Mione," he grunted back, practically collapsing next to her on the sofa with an oof.
"How's your neck?"
"Sore," he muttered.
"You off to see Malfoy again?" Harry sighed and nodded, offering no explanation. Hermione hummed in contemplation, "Can you tell me why?" she fixed her eyes intently on him, and it was like being back at the Burrow with her, dodging questions about the divorce over a cup of tea and a biscuit. His chest hurt just thinking about how young she looked.
"No," he croaked, "I'm sorry, you wouldn't understand- he's different than he was, I swear,"
"Is he making it better? This? Everything you're dealing with?" it felt absurd to say that Hermione was so like her older self - he supposed it would be more accurate to say that she had never changed.
He nodded, "Yeah - he is, a lot better,"
"Okay then," she said simply, as if it solved everything, "So long as you tell him I'm perfectly prepared to punch him in the face again if he - well, if he does pretty much anything to be honest," Harry could only chuckle weakly and rest against her shoulder, "What time are you meeting him? Can you sit with me a while?"
"Yeah, I can," he whispered, closing his eyes and imagining for just a second that this was the other Hermione.
He stopped when he started feeling guilty - comparing them felt wrong. He stayed until other students began emerging from their dorms, glancing over at them curiously and looking away uncomfortably when he met their eyes. Ah, he'd forgotten how much everyone had avoided him after Cedric had died.
It turned out he needn't have worried about keeping Draco waiting; he stumbled across the other having a polite but heated discussion with Snape on the grand staircase. He slowed as he got closer and tried to listen to what was being said.
"… and with all due respect Professor, my family affairs are none of your concern," Draco said firmly, his back to Harry.
"As your head of house Mister Malfoy, they are indeed my concern - they become even more acutely my concern when your father is sending me howlers at two in the morning!" Snape's tone descended from disdain to downright fury, but he cut himself off when he caught sight of Harry; he sneered, but his heart didn't really seem to be in it - his eyes lingered at Harry's throat before pointedly looking away - Harry imagined it was difficult to maintain a consistent level of disdain for the teenager who's life you had saved a few days earlier, "Eves-dropping are we Mister Potter?" Draco looked sharply over his shoulder and Harry abandoned any pretence of approaching quietly, "Ten points from Gryffindor,"
"Is it strictly speaking eves-dropping if you're on a staircase Professor?" war hero or not, Harry wasn't rolling over and putting up with this nonsense.
"Twenty points," Snape hissed, "for your cheek," Harry could only roll his eyes, feeling faintly buoyed by his morning's encounter with Hermione.
"If that's all Professor," Draco interrupted, his tone a kind of cutting politeness, "May I be excused?"
Harry could practically hear Snape's teeth grinding, "You may," the words sounded like they physically hurt.
Harry waited until they were in the privacy of the Room of Requirement to question Draco about it.
"What was all that about?" he asked incredulously, "Why's your father sending Snape howlers?"
Draco sighed, dumping his bag on the kitchen table and letting himself flop into his designated chair in the office section of their strange room - Harry noticed the chair seemed to have become more comfortable and less rickety since the day before.
"I'm currently liaising with my solicitor in order to emancipate myself from my parents," Harry could only blink, shocked, "When we're done here today, I'm going to go and see Dumbledore and see if he can organise some kind of safe haven for me. He offered it to me last time," Draco admitted, "So I'm optimistic. Worst comes to it, I'll go and hide in France till the new school year - I've got half-blood cousins there I've always been close to, despite my father's best efforts,"
"You can just do that, emancipate yourself?"
Draco offered a shrewd smile, "If you're a pure-blood, its extremely easy. Historically, pure-blood families wanted a simple way to disown children they felt didn't honour pure-blood traditions. And so, being disowned is a piece of cake, but the reverse is also true. So long as you have a Gringotts vault in your name - which, traditionally, every child in a pure-blood family will have - the initial process takes only a few days. Final documents are usually signed in less than a month,"
Harry noted the strained edge to his voice - while he sounded unaffected, Harry was sure he was anything but, "I'm sorry you're having to do this Draco," he said softly.
Draco only shrugged, his face falling just a little, "I know what my father is, but he's still my father. And I love my mother dearly. It wasn't an easy decision, but I will not take the dark mark again," he said firmly, "And giving up this family is easier than losing the one I've already been parted from,"
They fell silent, the weight of what had happened pressing down on their shoulders until Harry felt like Atlas himself holding up the sky. They gave one another a moment to discretely wipe away their tears. He wondered how he would feel on the first day he could think about all that had happened without crying - guilty, he imagined.
"Dumbledore will help - I'm sure," Harry said confidently.
Draco cleared his throat, "Anyway, back to these," he gestured to the blackboard, "So we've been through the diary, the snake, the diadem, and the locket. What's next?"
"The Gaunt family ring," Harry said grimly, "And before you ask, yes, it's another priceless heirloom - it's actually the resurrection stone,"
Draco turned immediately disbelieving, "From the kids stories?!" He cried incredulously.
"Yeah - they're actually real," Harry said with a chuckle, "Dumbledore has the elder wand, and I own the invisibility cloak,"
Draco looked like he was about to leap out of his own skin, "You're telling me, that you own the mythical, perfect invisibility cloak that can hide you from death itself? Are you serious?" He hissed.
"Well, I don't think it can hide me from death, but yeah,"
An accusatory finger was pointed in his direction, "You are showing me that cloak at some point Potter,"
Harry rolled his eyes, "If it'll get you to calm down, then yeah sure, whatever you want, can I carry on now?" Draco grunted his assent, "As I was saying, I really don't know how we're going to get this one. It's in an abandoned shack in a village called Little Hangleton and you said it yourself - we're not even of age. I don't know how we're going to travel there without causing uproar, and I certainly don't know how we're going to do it with the trace on us. It's protected by some pretty intense magic - Dumbledore got it last time, and he nearly died. We could always leave it to him again I guess but it has implications for your 'before the end of the school year' timeline,"
At the mention of his declaration from the day before, and what it could mean for Harry, Draco stiffened in his seat, "We will do all this before the next school year," he vowed, "How about we keep thinking about this one? Perhaps a solution will present itself?" he shot Harry a dirty look when he scoffed.
"Okay but don't hold your breath,"
"Move onto the next one," Draco said through gritted teeth.
"The golden cup of Hufflepuff,"
"I'm starting to think this man has an unhealthy relationship with this school," Draco said darkly, but Harry ignored him.
"Now this one, I really don't know what we're going to do," anxiety bubbled in his chest, "It's currently in a vault in Gringotts - the Lestrange vault to be specific. Last time we had to break into Gringotts and steal both the cup and a fucking dragon and we had to bribe a goblin to help us - I just don't see how we can pull that off a second time!" He exclaimed desperately.
"Wait, wait, wait - actually, I think I can get us this one,"
"How?!" Harry said incredulously.
"Well," Draco started smugly, "My lunatic aunt named me the Lestrange heir when I was born. Another little bit of blood purist law for you - if you're sentenced to life in Azkaban, all of your assets are automatically forfeit to the Ministry treasury - unless, you have evidence of eight generations of wizarding genealogy and have a named heir," Draco pointed to himself, "Who inherits upon making their majority, or becoming otherwise independent from their parents - which I shortly will be,"
Excitement buzzed in Harry's stomach, "So you're saying we could have both the cup and the locket by next term?"
Draco hesitated, "Ah, not exactly - the inheritance side of things takes slightly longer. Up to six months. Goblin bureaucracy, you know? Still - easier than stealing a dragon surely? Exactly, no complaints please and thank you,"
Harry tried not to be disappointed, "Why does a fifteen year old have a solicitor anyway?" He asked curiously, "You make it sound like you've got them on retainer or something,"
"Well, once upon a time I did - technically she's the solicitor I had before, except obviously we've never met from her perspective - but I've always found her work to be exemplary," he waved away Harry's small noise of concern, "Don't trouble yourself, Themis is excellent at what she does, and has a real bone to pick with blood purists too, I can tell you,"
"Why has she agreed to work for a fifteen year old Malfoy then?"
"I sold her my tale of woe," Draco said dramatically, "The son of bigots looking to free himself from their circle of influence," he turned suddenly sombre, "To be honest, I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing," he admitted, "I worry for them - for how the Dark Lord might retaliate against the parents of a blood traitor. I worry for my mother - living in a house with that monster. But I will not take the mark again," he reiterated firmly.
"No," Harry agreed, and they sat in a contemplative silence.
"Anyway, what's the last horcrux?"
Harry hesitated. He shook his head, "We'll finish off later - you've got to speak to Dumbledore, and I'm sure you've got letters to send,"
"This is true - what are you going to do?"
Harry glanced over his shoulder at the small dragon teddy sitting in the mock up of his kitchen, "I'm going to stay here a little while longer,"
Draco's gaze was full of understanding, "Okay then, till tomorrow?"
Harry couldn't help but smile at what was becoming their end of day ritual, "Tomorrow."
This morning, neither Ron nor Hermione greeted him. Instead, he stumbled upon Ginny at the bottom of the stairs to the dormitory. Upon seeing her, he froze. She was so young. If it had been an option, he would have run away; she was possibly the person he had been most nervous about seeing. He and she had been so intrinsically linked to one another, first by marriage, then by children, and then by nearly twenty years of a life shared. She was his dearest friend and closest confident, and it was all gone now.
"Are you okay Harry?" oh, he hadn't moved.
He forced himself forward, "Ah, sorry - still half asleep,"
"You off to hang out with Malfoy again?" her matter of fact casual approach made Harry falter, and he nearly fell down the last few steps. She didn't look even vaguely apologetic. She was also the only person who's eyes didn't immediately drop to his new scar.
"Uh yeah,"
"Are you having a love affair?"
Surprised hysterical laugher bubbled out of him before he could stop it - strangely, a disappointed look flitted across her face, "N-no," he hiccupped, still chuckling, "What on earth made you think that?"
She shrugged, "Well it would have made sense in some ways - a bit like Romeo and Juliet don't you think? 'Two households, both alike in dignity' and all that,"
"Who's Juliet in this scenario?"
She scoffed, "Obviously you," she paused, eyeing him, "If Fred or George ask you that question, I'd really appreciate it if your response was just a tad more ambiguous," she held her forefinger and thumb very close together, "I've got ten galleons riding on this,"
"Surely you've already lost," he reminded her, "As we're not having a love affair - and if we were, I'd obviously be Romeo,"
She took a step towards the stairs to the girls bathrooms and sent him a secret smile, "Never hurts to be optimistic!"
Harry could only shake his head, chortling still as he made his way out of the portrait hole.
He was surprised, when he got to the Room of Requirement, to find that Draco was not sat at the desk waiting for him. Oddly, the light in both the office and the kitchen were off, and instead the room was illuminated by a golden glow coming from the imitation of Draco's study. Soft, vaguely gritty sounding piano music filled the room. Hesitantly, Harry moved to where he knew Draco must be.
He found him where he expected to; in his study, sat behind his enormous mahogany table, slouched in his chair, and fiddling with something that sparkled in his hand - Harry could see a record spinning beneath the gramophone horn behind him. Draco looked up when he entered, and flashed him a weak smile.
Cautiously, Harry took a seat on his own sofa, and pulled a throw cushion into his hands, "What's wrong?"
Draco twitched his shoulders into a sad shrug, "Just missing Scorpios. And missing my wife," he admitted quietly, "I saw her in the common room this morning," his eyes flicked between Harry and the trinket he was playing with in his hand, "She just looks so young. Everyone just looks so young. And, for a moment, I tried to imagine doing things as we had before, when we're older. Courting her and marrying her and having a family again. But it wouldn't be the same," he lay the item that had been in his hand down on the desk, and Harry could see that it was a delicate, bejewelled watch - he realised with a jolt he'd seen it before, on Astoria's wrist at the ministry, "I'd just be constantly comparing her to a version of herself that will never exist again… and I'm old enough to be her father now," he grimaced, "It feels vaguely predatory. I guess… I'm just feeling sad for the life we had that's lost… and sad that I can't even tell other people about it,"
"You can tell me," Harry reminded him, "And I can tell you,"
Draco nodded slowly, taking her watch and putting it back in the luminous yellow glass pot. He sighed and clapped his hands together, "Anyway, we should start looking at that last Horcrux, I suppose,"
Harry felt dread building in his stomach again.
"It's me," he said simply, diving in headfirst before he could convince himself otherwise.
"What?" said Draco, confused.
"It's me," Harry repeated.
Draco looked at him in silence. He sat back in his chair, sliding his hands down onto his lap, "What do you mean, its you?" He said quietly.
"When Voldemort's curse rebounded, when he tried to kill me as a baby, his soul was so damaged that part of it broke off and latched onto the only living thing in the room – me," Harry cleared his throat, and fought to continue talking, "That's why I could speak parseltongue, and why sometimes I know what he's thinking and feeling - there's a connection between us,"
Draco stood abruptly, shoving his chair back and knocking it into the gramophone behind him, the jolt knocking the needle free, stopping the music, "Are you telling me," Draco said quietly, "that, in order for us to defeat Voldemort that - ,"
"That I have to die - yes,"
A sound of outrage broke out of Draco's throat, "But, but that means to defeat him last time you had to die too!"
"I did die," Harry said frankly.
"Then how are you here?!"
"By using my blood to regenerate himself, he's entwined our life forces together. So, I did die - he cast avada kedvara on me at the battle of Hogwarts. But I came back,"
If anything, Draco sounded more hysterical, "And how the hell are we meant to replicate that then?!"
Harry let out a loud gust of air, "Well, last time we had the advantage that he had stolen the elder wand from Dumbledore's body and was using that. Through a series of coincidences, when he tried to use it against me, I was actually the master of the wand, so it wouldn't work as he wanted it to,"
"And how do we reproduce this series of coincidences?" Draco hissed through gritted teeth.
"I don't think we can," Harry said softly; Draco's expression pinched further, "I became the master of the wand because I disarmed you. And you became the master of the wand because you… you disarmed Dumbledore," he slowed as a thought occurred to him, "But none of this matters, because he doesn't even have the elder wand yet. He's still using his own wand," a spark of realisation, "And I've already disarmed him at the Graveyard!"
"You disarmed him?"
"And threw a headstone at his face, yeah,"
"So… we don't need to worry about recreating those coincidences, because you already have - that's what I'm hearing here. So, if we do this, if we let him kill you, you should come back right?" Draco's anxiety was bleeding out in his voice, "Right?"
Harry nodded slowly, "In theory - I don't think there are any guarantees when you're letting a dark lord AK you though, and I'm not sure there's any way to guarantee that his wand has changed allegiances,"
Draco visibly swallowed, "I guess that will have to be enough," he hesitated and made to slump back into his seat before changing his mind. He stepped round the desk, and instead sat by Harry on the sofa - he fidgeted for a moment before grumbling, "This isn't the most comfortable sofa Potter,"
"Blame the room," Harry said dismissively, "Did you speak to Dumbledore by the way?"
Draco nodded slowly, "I did," mirroring Harry, he grabbed a pillow and held it to his chest, "He said he's going to give me safe haven. Said he was working on it, but that he'd have somewhere for me to go over the summer that wasn't my parents house. My mother wrote to me," he added reluctantly.
"What did she say?"
"She begged me to reconsider,"
"Did you reply?" Draco nodded, "What'd you say?"
"I told her I would not be made a murderer," he said softly.
Silence descended between them, but for the soft whispering sound of the record still spinning. For the first time since waking up in the graveyard, Harry felt like he had taken a small shuffling step back from the precipice of his own destruction. He wasn't sure when he would feel okay again, but sat next to Draco, each preparing to fight for a new future, Harry felt sure that one day he would.
"Well," said Draco, breaking the silence, "Is there anything else we need to try and plan, or can we do it on the fly?"
"There is one thing," Harry admitted, "But it can wait, we've still got one day before the feast - just bring your broom with you tomorrow?"
Draco's eyebrow quirked but he nodded anyway, "Tomorrow then."
Trudging down the dormitory stairs, his bag slung over his shoulder, Harry wasn't particular surprised when identical, if tired, grins greeted him from the Gryffindor common room.
"Hiya Harry!" Fred and George said as one.
Harry tried not to, but he couldn't help but stare at Fred - happy, healthy, and whole. If Harry had had any doubts about his and Draco's plan, seeing George with his twin brother erased them in an instant. They had to do this. Just as the twins were exchanging concerned glances at his continued silence, something suddenly occurred to Harry.
"Uh, give me a second," he rushed back up to his room, trying to keep his footfalls light, grabbed something from his trunk, and hurried back down again. He was panting by the time he returned to them.
"What you got there Harry?" One of them asked - he'd been sure it was George, but now, close up he was less certain; maybe they had swapped places?
He ushered them to sit down on the sofa, and dumped the sack of his Triwizard tournament winnings on the coffee table between them, "That my friends," he said breathlessly, "Is one thousand galleons that I'd like to invest in your joke shop business please!"
The twins shared an uncertain look.
"Harry -,"
"We can't -,"
"Couldn't possibly - ,"
"Look, stop, stop," he shushed them impatiently, "I know what happened with Ludo Bagman - don't ask me how - please, just take it. I don't want it or need it - but you could do amazing things with it! Just please don't tell you mother," he tacked on at the end, imagining the wrath of Molly Weasley being focussed in his direction.
Fred and George shared another look, seemingly conversing telepathically.
"Okay Harry -,"
"We accept - but -,"
"As an investor, you're entitled to some of the business -,"
"Obviously,
"Obviously! So before we accept -,"
"What percentage are you expecting?"
"We have to protect our interests you see -,"
"Oh absolutely,"
"So we were thinking - ,"
"Perhaps,"
"Maybe,"
"One third?" This they said as one, and Harry took a moment to recover from the task of keeping up with them to react.
His mouth dropped open, "No! I don't want any of the business! You're the ones who are going to be doing all the hard work, not me - no, please just take the money," he said desperately.
Fred or George (he'd truly lost track now) sighed, "Such a shame Harry - ,"
"It really is,"
"We so wanted to do business with you,"
Harry grit his teeth, "Fine. Five percent,"
"One third," they said together.
"Ten?"
"One third,"
"Fifteen?!"
They glanced at each other, and reluctantly countered with, "Twenty five percent,"
"Fine," Harry snapped, jumping at the chance to be out of this strange stalemate, "Will you just take the damn money?"
"Absolutely Harry,"
"So happy doing business with you,"
"We're glad we could come to a mutual understanding," Harry wasn't sure they noticed when he got up and left, too busy congratulating themselves and him on their new joint business venture.
Harry was relieved when he managed to stumble across Draco working his way up the grand staircase from the dungeons to the Room of Requirement - he didn't fancy getting all the way up there only to come back down again; his ankle was only just starting to feel better.
"Draco!" He called to get the others attention, "Wait!"
"Morning, Potter," Draco's eyes immediately caught on to the slight bulging of his bag, "What have you got there?" Harry could only grin, grabbing Draco's arm and pulling him along behind him into the nearest broom cupboard, "Do you mind? You're creasing my robes!" Draco sounded vaguely outraged. Harry rolled his eyes and cast lumos so they could see each other in the dark, fiddling with his bag, "Is there a reason we're in a cupboard Potter? I didn't realise the secret to defeating the dark lord lay in Filch's cleaning supplies,"
"I expect an apology in a moment," Harry said smugly, deliberately catching Draco in the gut with his elbow as he pulled his invisibility cloak free from his bag; Draco let out an oof but all complaints halted when he saw what was in Harry's hands.
"Is that…?" He whispered in awe, reaching out to run his fingers along the fabric.
"It is," Draco took a section in his hands and held it up to the illuminated tip of Harry's wand to inspect it further, "As promised,"
"This is amazing," Draco admitted, shifting the cloak in his grip to inspect more of it, "But why have you brought it with you?"
"I always find it's useful for sneaking about the castle unseen," Draco paused, turning his questioning gaze on Harry; Harry grinned, "We're going on a field trip,"
"You have got to be joking," said Draco, twenty minutes later when they were stood in the girls bathroom on the second floor, peering down into the tunnel behind the sink that lead to the Chamber of Secrets.
"Not even a little bit," said Harry cheerfully, stuffing his cloak back into his bag, retrieving his shrunken broom and returning it to its original size, "You brought yours I hope? Not sure how you're going to get back up otherwise," Draco sneered at him as he produced his own shrunken broom, and restored it with a tap of his wand, "Come on then!"
Harry hopped onto his broom, and carefully tipped the broom handle nearly vertical into the air, so that he was essentially hovering while standing. With a cheery wave, he started the delicate business of directing the broom down the tunnel's initial vertical drop without hitting any of the walls or flinging himself off. He felt almost disappointed when Draco achieved the same task with an added poise he knew he had lacked. He was feeling even less smug when they came to the section of the chamber corridor which Lockhart had caved in.
"Well Potter," Draco's voice echoed, "I have to admit, I hadn't expected the mighty Chamber of Secrets to be quite so short,"
"Oh will you shut up, you great git - help me dig," unwilling to bombarda the blockage away and risk another cave in, they carefully levitated the fallen rocks away until they had made a gap big enough for them to fly over. Draco was looking sweaty and distinctly unimpressed by the time they had made it into the chamber itself.
"I was always under the impression that field trips were meant to be enjoyable," he snarked, "I'd have had more fun if you'd chucked me in the deep end of the lake to play with the squid I think,"
"That can still be arranged," Harry promised, with a threatening wave of his wand, "Anyway, we're here now," he pointed ahead of them to the enormous basilisk skeleton in the middle of the chamber.
Draco approached it gingerly, "You're trying to tell me you killed this dirty great snake when you were only twelve years old?" Draco said suspiciously, looking vaguely ill as he watched Harry use his wand to pull multiple shorter fangs free, and levitate them into his bag.
He paused to point at his chest, "Defeater of the Dark Lord," he pointed at Draco, "Twice." Draco rolled his eyes, and used his own wand to gather up some more fangs and add them to his bag, "I would advise against handling them - the venom is pretty deadly," the look Draco sent him was one of pure disdain.
The journey back out of the chamber was easier thankfully. Unwilling to be caught smuggling basilisk fangs in their bag, they covered themselves in the invisibility cloak once more, and made their way up to the seventh floor.
"Where are we meant to store them?" Draco asked, gingerly levitating the fangs out of his bag and inspecting them with reluctant fascination.
As if answering them, the top draw of the filing cabinet in the back corner popped open. They shared a glance and shrugged - the room hadn't let them down so far. With the fangs resting in the drawers bottom, the cabinet closed by itself, and a flash of white light travelled around the draws edge, sealing it shut.
"What now then?" Harry only shrugged at the question, "Is there anything left we need to do before the feast?" Harry shook his head no - with their task complete, his mind was already elsewhere in less pleasant places, "I don't know where Dumbledore is sending me," Draco said suddenly, "But wherever it is, if I can, I'll write to you as much as possible over the holidays, I promise,"
Harry forced a smile, and nodded, "I need a shower," he said finally, looking down at his filthy hands, "and a lie down too, I think,"
"Me too," as if to demonstrate, Draco wiped his hand down his cheek and revealed a faintly grey palm, "See you tomorrow? At the feast?"
"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."
It felt surreal being sat in the great hall for the end of term feast. He realised with a jolt, that it was the first time he had been out amongst the school's wider population since coming back, having mostly hidden between the Gryffindor tower, and the Room of Requirement. Curious eyes followed him on his way to the Gryffindor table - Ron and Hermione acting as buffers on either side of him. He hadn't seen as much of them as he could have over the last week - actively avoiding them he was honest - not only to escape looking into their too young eyes, but also to try and put them off any more probing questions about Draco, when he hadn't even considered what to say still. Hermione was being patiently understanding, and though clearly frustrated with him, even Ron was biting his tongue, glaring furiously at anyone who looked too closely at the three of them.
Dumbledore's speech to the school was much as Harry had remembered it - including the toast first to Cedric and then himself. He was surprised however, to see that significantly more Slytherin's than he remembered toasting to him all those years ago, were now raising their glasses to him. He found Draco's eyes across the hall - he shrugged, a small smirk ticking at the corner of his mouth as he raised his cup and drank deeply, before returning to his seat with the rest of the school. He hoped he would be able to speak to him once more, before they were forced to part ways for the summer holidays.
When he was sat on the train the next day however, speeding back to London, having been unable to find the time to speak to the other, he resigned himself to the fact he would probably not see Draco again until September first.
"There's nothing in there," said Hermione from her seat in their train compartment, noticing when Harry's eyes lingered on the Daily Prophet, "You can look yourself, I've been checking every day, but there's no word about any of it anywhere - not about Cedric, or You-Know-Who, not even about a Hogwarts professor trying to murder you," she inclined her head to her neck, "Fudge must be hushing it all up,"
"To be fair, this is the third time a Hogwarts Professor has tried to murder me," Harry said dryly, "Hardly front page stuff at this point I suppose,"
"But surely he won't be able to keep old Rita Skeeter from a story like this," Ron scoffed, stuffing a pumpkin pastie into his mouth, "She'll be all over it!"
Harry couldn't help but smile with pride at Hermione when she gleefully revealed her unbreakable jar containing the bug form of Rita Skeeter. On reflection, it was verging on unhinged that a fifteen year old girl was keeping a grown woman held captive, and if it had been his own daughter doing such a thing, he imagined he would have felt compelled to take action. But as it happened, it wasn't, and Harry didn't hide how downright hilarious he thought it was; he had never quite forgiven Skeeter for the fabrications she had once written that allowed the Ministry to paint him as a madman and a liar.
Hermione had to put her prize away quickly however, when there was a knock on their compartment door.
Harry was surprised to see Draco at the threshold, his trunk at his feet and his hands clenched in fists at his sides, the pulse in his neck visibly bulging with his heart beat.
"Draco!" He exclaimed, pleased, "I worried I wouldn't see you again before next year," the other two had gone stiff and wary, eying Draco suspiciously.
"Ah yes," Draco cleared his throat, standing up straight, and Harry could almost see his future self in his tight posture, "I wanted to see you - but there's something I must do first," his eyes flicked between Ron and Hermione, "Weasley, Granger - I want to apologise," they exchanged a startled glance, "I have been a bigot, and a bully these last four years. My conduct has been, quite frankly, abysmal, and I owe you a million apologies for a million wrongs I have committed against you, and your families. And so - I apologise; but I do not expect you to accept my apology and I understand why. I can only hope that you will allow me to demonstrate my sincere regret for the awful person I have been and allow me to make amends, and will perhaps one day in the future consider accepting my apology, even if I am not forgiven." Draco was gradually becoming more stiff and more formal the longer he spoke, and Harry half expected him to clack his heels together and salute at the end of his speech.
There was a moment of awkward silence, before Hermione found her voice, "Thank you for your apology," she said slowly, inspecting him cautiously - she nudged Ron, who had been sat with his mouth wide open, and he too snapped back into being.
"Uh, yeah, thanks I guess," he grunted, but Harry was pretty sure it was for his benefit - he imagined, in reality, that Ron wanted to throw Draco's apology back in his face and send a curse his way for good measure too. Harry couldn't blame him - he'd have wanted to do the same.
"Would you like to sit with us?" Hermione said politely, surprising Harry.
Ron screwed his jaw shut in poorly suppressed outrage, while Draco sagged in relief, and nodded, "Yes, please," he levitated his trunk up into the storage above their heads, and slumped into the bench next to Harry.
Harry waited only until Draco was comfortable to say, "Did you rehearse that?"
"Of course I fucking did, Potter," Draco snapped back - Hermione and Ron tensed as if preparing for a fight, but also watched in confusion when Harry threw back his head and laughed, "It was important!" He added defensively.
"It was," Harry chuckled, "It was important - you did a great job, well done,"
"You are such a dick sometimes," Draco grumbled, pulling a chocolate frog out of his pocket.
"I know, I know, sorry," he wasn't even slightly sorry, but Draco snapped off the leg of the chocolate frog and offered it to him anyway.
"Are you looking forward to the summer holidays Mafloy?" Once again, Hermione recovered before Ron, peering in bemusement between them but still maintaining her tight polite tone - he wondered if she regretted inviting Draco to join them.
"Not really," he admitted reluctantly, "I don't actually know where I'm going,"
"Still?" Harry asked incredulously. Draco nodded glumly, stuffing more chocolate into his mouth to make himself feel better.
"What do you mean? Are you not going home?" Ron seemed annoyed that he had allowed himself to be drawn into the conversation.
"No - I filed for emancipation,"
Ron's mouth fell open in shock - strangely, significantly more shocked than Hermione, or even Harry himself had been, "You what?!" he exclaimed, "Seriously?!"
"Yeah,"
"I feel like I'm missing something," Hermione said hesitantly, "Obviously I know what emancipation means, but is there some added significance to wizarding families?"
Ron nodded vigorously, "Being disowned is a massive deal in pureblood families - you're essentially cut off from your family tree, and family trees really matter for some pureblood families, like the Notts, and the Greengrass's, and," he inclined his head to Draco, "And the Malfoy's. It can effect the jobs you can get, cause' lots of wizards don't want to work with blood traitors, and lots of wizarding families won't even consider letting someone who's been disowned marry into their family, even the half-blood families. One of mum's cousin's engagements fell through because their fiancé had been disowned. There's a real stigma about it - you essentially lose all your family history. Any advantage of being a pureblood is gone like that," Ron snapped his fingers.
"I don't understand though," said Hermione slowly, "Malfoy hasn't been disowned, he's emancipated himself,"
"Same thing," Draco said, "As far as purebloods will be concerned,"
Ron gaped at him, perched on the edge of his seat now, "You've really done it?" Draco nodded sombrely, "Why!?"
"Because I might have been a bully, and a bigot for the last four years - but I don't want to serve the Dark Lord like my parents, and end up a murderer too," he said quietly. Ron's mouth snapped shut audibly and he slowly sat back in his seat, apparently running out of things to say. Harry didn't know what to say either.
"That's really brave Draco," Hermione said, stumbling over his first name. Draco only shrugged, glancing uncomfortably at Harry.
"Who's collecting you from London then?" Harry asked, concerned about Draco being ambushed on the platform by his parents.
"My solicitor - not sure where to after that though," he muttered quietly.
They all jumped when the compartment door suddenly swung open with a bang, revealing Fred and George's grinning faces.
"Harry!"
"Ron!"
"Hermione!" The twins exchanged a look before exclaiming together:
"And Malfoy!!"
Draco looked vaguely horrified when the twins rushed forwards and forced themselves on the bench between Harry and Draco, psuhing them apart and making for a tight squeeze. Draco's expression didn't waver from anything less than extremely put-out for the rest of the journey home. Harry was surprised by how much he actually tolerated from the twins - though the line seemed to have been crossed when Fred or George made to ruffle his hair.
"If you could fucking not, that would be great," despite his words, he sounded only resigned, reaching up to pick the twin's hand from on top of his head.
"I guess that's the price you pay for being a life long git," Harry said laughing; Draco reluctantly consented to the twin's handsy approach until the train was coming to a stop on the platform, and they were spilling out of the doors.
Side by side, Harry and Draco watched as the Weasley's and Hermione rushed over to greet Molly and Arthur - Hermione's parents must have been on the muggle side of the platform. Molly in particular eyed them with interest. He looked over when Draco nudged his arm, following the direction of the others gaze to a severe looking witch with an extremely tall pointy hat, her arms folded patiently over her chest.
"That's Themis," Draco said, his voice dull. They lapsed into silence, reluctant to say the words that would part them until the new school year. The centre of Harry's chest was beginning to ache again, as the distraction of the train journey home and spending time in Draco's company began to ebb away, and reality seeped back in. He expected this school holiday was going to be the worst he had ever experienced.
Draco turned to him suddenly, making him jump, "I don't know where I'm going, but I swear, if I can, I'll write to you every day," his hands were suddenly gripping Harry's shoulders tightly, "Every single day if I can, I promise," Harry couldn't speak, tears threatening at the back of his eyes again, and his throat becoming tight; he could only nod and let himself be pulled into a tight hug, "Twice a day if you want me to,"
Harry barked out half a sob, half a laugh, "Not sure Hedwig would be impressed," he muttered into Draco's shoulder.
"We'll have an owl relay or something," Draco assured him, stepping back to peer into his face, "It'll be okay - last time ever, remember. We're going to do this," he muttered lowly, eyes glancing around in case of onlookers, "And you'll never have to go back again," Harry nodded, not truly believing it if he was honest, "Goodbye Potter," reluctantly, Draco picked up an end of his trunk, and began to trudge over to the witch waiting for him.
"Goodbye Draco," Harry watched him leave, waving a little when Draco linked arms with his solicitor, and with a loud crack, was gone. Harry felt unbearably alone.
"Harry! Come on dear, quickly," Mrs Weasley was calling to him, and waving him over with a kind smile. It felt like struggling through mud, trying to get his legs to move again - he took a deep breath; he would be okay. This would be the last time. He would be okay.
He allowed Mrs Weasley to tuck him under her arm as she led the family through the platform. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a glum Fred and George reluctantly slipping gold into the hand of an extremely smug looking Ginny.
He could only smile and shake his head. He would be okay.
Notes