Draco found himself running, blind.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was hyperventilating. Draco swallowed, trying to force it down. This was neither the right moment nor the right reason to have a panic attack. Draco tried to hold his breath but his heart wouldn't stop beating. So he tried to force that down too but his vision turned black instead. It wasn't working.

'Why, why WHY!' Draco's frustration made him tear at his own hair. Why did Potter have to push? Why did he have to pry? Why couldn't Draco simply LIE to him?! Why couldn't he simply tell him the truth?!

Draco felt like he was back at the manor, faced with the choice in which way to doom Harry Potter. He would never forget the image of emerald green eyes, surrounded by a face swollen to an impossible unlikeness. He remembered Potter being prepared to be betrayed. He remembered the horror Potter had shown him, knowing that his life was suddenly in Draco's hands. Draco hadn't been able to face him then and he wasn't able to face him now.

His head a mess and he unable to remember what to do, Draco burst into the nearest open door to find himself clutching at the nearest sink.

It took Draco a whole minute to register that he was inside a bathroom. He remembered this bathroom too, the broken tile next to the very sink he stood at had an overly familiar pattern. The very image of the beginning of this horror story reflected in the shaking mirror before him. It was almost brutal, the way he saw the tears stream down his face the same way he had back then. Just moments before Potter had slit him open with a random spell he had found in a book.

'I'm NOT having a break down over Potter confessing to me,' he tried to tell himself and forced the feelings back down down down. His chest constricted, his mind couldn't focus and he felt himself slipping into darkness, fearing that time would simply repeat himself. In a mindless panic, Draco opened the tap and let water run into the sink. He hoped the sound would tune out the voice in his head but it didn't. His vision spiralled. He couldn't focus on anything anymore. Draco found himself choking on his emotions.

'This is embarrassing.', Draco thought, grasping at the last bit of consciousness he had left, and held his breath so long that he needed to catch his breath. He was half certain that he was breathing wrong. He was drowning in the tap water. Draco slid down to his knees, biting his lips not to sob and be heard beyond the walls of this room. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck!'. Too weak to walk a simple set of stairs, how could he have thought he could run here?

He must have gone deaf for a second because suddenly Draco heard steps echoing against the cold tiles and someone skidded to his side. Of course, of bloody course it was Potter. Who else had a map that would spare him the task of searching for Draco? How had Draco thought he could hide from him? How had Draco ever dared to believe that he could escape this bathroom? Draco's vision spotted white and he choked on his repressed sobs. 'Don't feel, don't feel, don't feel.' His thoughts felt acidic, burning his throat and making him want to kill himself.

Draco slapped Potter's hand away but Harry grabbed hold of it anyway, forcing Draco to lay down. "Shit, Draco. What happened? I ... okay okay. Hold on." Harry took slow deep breaths and pushed Draco to the ground. His hand was warm and firm against Draco's chest. Something soft already lay where Draco's head would have hit the ground, but Draco had no idea what it was. "Focus on me, Draco." Draco could only focus on the hand that was on his chest right now. He tried to pull it off, but found himself holding onto it instead. "I'm breathing, Draco, listen to me."

Breathing, right. Draco was supposed to breathe. He took in deep shuddering breaths and found his own chest heaving with it. Hot tears streamed down the side of his face. With the breaths came the silent sobs. He closed his eyes. And Potter saw everything.

He could hear Harry's breaths even over the sound of rushing water and, because he had no other choice, followed their direction until the repressed chokes threatened to hurt his vocal chords.

At that point, Potter suddenly ran a hand through Draco's hair and with that, Draco's eyes shot wide open. Harry looked calm for someone who was on the verge of panic himself. His worry was edged into his brows but there was a fondness there that made Draco's heart squeeze in pain. The hand felt soft for someone who used pressure to ground him. The other hand was a welcome softness in his hair. Draco hated how much he craved this. He wished Harry would talk, so he could hear his voice. At the same time he wished Potter would just go away. Leave him here to lay in his own pity and pain.

It took a moment for Draco's breaths to calm down. After a while, Harry repositioned himself on the ground. The angle was awkward, but it seemed he was willing to put up with that. With Draco. No one had ever wanted to put up with him like this for long. His father would have ignored him or told him to find an empty room to cry. His mother would have found him in that empty room and forced him into a hug, suffocating him with the knowledge that she'd done nothing to prevent the horrors he'd been facing. Both of them had warned him not to show his emotions to strangers, or worse, to family members or the Dark Lord. Draco felt invaded, he felt rejected, he didn't ever feel cared for.

More tears slipped down Draco's eyes and rolled down on the side of his head and into his hair at the reminder. He wished Potter were one of the people that he felt like that for. He wished that he didn't need his support, his forgiveness and his care. He wished he didn't love him as much as he did.

"Draco... what happened?," Harry eventually whispered when Draco tilted his head to not have to look at him. "You just ran... did I ... if I caused this, somehow, I'm sorry, I -"

"Shut up," Draco whispered back and immediately regretted it when Harry was actually doing that. Draco had thought 'sectumsempra' had slit him open, dissected him to the core of his very being, but it was nothing compared to what Potter was doing to him right there, at right that moment. Draco swallowed his pride. "Sorry... don't. Just... talk about something else. Anything else." He closed his eyes, making another row of tears silently follow the previous trail. It was no use trying to hide the tears, but Draco would kill himself before he'd beg Potter to hold him.

Harry bit his lip and that was just unfair. Draco hated how close he was. How it made him feel like this could go somewhere. "Do you want me to tell you, when I ...," he hesitated. "Let me tell you when I fell in love with you." Now that was even worse.

Draco's eyes fixed on Potter's, hating him a little bit for that move. "I already know," Draco said with a trembling voice. He didn't want to hear this either.

"No," Harry swallowed, and he turned more serious and sad than Draco had ever seen him this close. "I meant the first time."

Draco stilled. "The first..." His eyes widened. His heart squeezed and Draco was certain he was going to have another panic attack as he realised that Harry could feel all the irregularities in his heart with the hand that was so unfortunately placed right over it. "What are you talking about?!"

Harry looked at him and had the gall to look shy. "It's not a good memory," he said as if trying to reassure him and then winced at his own phrasing. "I didn't realise until long after, but..."

"Why are you doing this?" Draco asked desperately and really wished that Harry would just stop. He JUST calmed down. What was this idiot trying to achieve?

Potter flailed his free arm in frustration, "Because you'll never listen otherwise. I need to tell you. Do with that information what you want but at least hear me out," said Harry and their eyes met once more. "Sorry... I know this isn't the best place or... situation. But I just -" He was hopeless. "You always do this. You open me up to confess and then you make it impossible for me to say anything after you've made fun of the very idea of us. You run away, you have a panic attack, you're somehow mad at me, and in the end we'll always end here. In the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm going to tell you now and I need you to listen to me. Just this once."

It promised nothing but misery for Draco. But hell if he wasn't willing to go through worse for this giant jackass. "Then get on with it already."

Potter watched him for a moment, searching for signs if Draco was really going to do as asked. Then, he took a deep breath to prepare himself, and began. "I was there, on the Astronomy tower," Harry blurted and Draco paled. He had been wrong. It could get worse. "I saw you threaten Dumbledore."

Draco covered his own eyes. Fuck. His worst moment, and of course Harry had been there to witness it all. Why was Potter always there?

"And I saw you lower your wand," Harry said, voice shockingly soft. There was silence after. As if that was something monumental. As if Draco's cowardice meant something to him.

Draco dared to glance at him. "And? What's that to do with -"

"That was the moment I fell in love with you," Harry interrupted him and gave Draco another minute to process. Only that that was not possible. The 'what' must have been written on Draco's face, because now Harry was the one who looked embarrassed. "I had known you for years at that point. I've thought the worst of you and I refused to see you any differently from the snobby pureblood you so conveniently pretended to be." He paused, swallowed hard, then continued.

"I saw you at your best. I saw you at your worst. I saw you through my mind connection to Voldemort. I saw you when you broke down as you tried to follow Voldemort's orders. I saw you get tortured in his name. I even saw you get the mark. And I thought I knew you. I thought I could just look through you. I thought...

I thought that you had willingly changed sides. That you fell into his trap. I followed you all year to stop you, thinking you were the enemy. When I saw you on that tower, I realised that I had been wrong. I couldn't have been more wrong." The more words flowed from his mouth, the surer Harry got and the firmer his hand pressed against Draco's heart. His other hand reached for one of Draco's and he held it like a lifeline. At the same time, the story made less sense to Draco.

Potter's voice turned hoarse. "You always did what you thought was right. And in that moment you defied Voldemort, despite of everything he had on you. Your parents, your friends and even your own life. And you still decided not to kill Dumbledore. You made it that far and yet you did the right thing."

Draco was boiling inside now. Potter could NOT be serious. "I was a coward. I couldn't DO it. Last month I killed people. I could have done it then had I been less of a crybaby. I SHOULD have-"

"No. It was different." Harry cupped his face with both hands now. In his daze, Draco noticed that Harry was trembling. "Last month you deceived Voldemort. Last month you did what you had to do. And you didn't do it to survive."

Draco caught his breath.

"You did it to get the cup. You did it so that we can win again. Back then, you were a child who carried the lives of his family and friends on his shoulders and had no idea what a Horkrux was. No idea who would win this war or how to even attempt defeating Voldemort. You had been sold to Voldemort by your father and his misguided parenting. You didn't have a CHOICE but you still made one." Harry looked moved, impressed, astounded as he said this. Once upon a time this was how Draco had wanted Harry to look at him. Now he couldn't stand it without feeling like crying again.

Potter wiped off the tears and Draco felt raw. "I dreamed of you often, after that. I saw the consequences of your actions. And I knew that you had known this would happen. I saw how relieved you were that it wasn't worse. When we came to the manor, I wanted nothing more than take you back with us. Especially when you protected me. But I knew you wouldn't have wanted that. You couldn't have joined us at the time. And then we were back in Hogwarts in the room of requirements and you refused to kill me then, too. In spite of the punishment you and your family had to bear. You saved my life again. And then the war ended and you vanished." Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes.

Draco stared at Harry. He was fighting tears, Draco realised. "I don't... I don't get it," Draco said. "That's when-? But why did you marry Ginny Weasley? Why-?"

Harry flushed red. "I won't deny that I liked her then, too. I wanted to talk with you first but I couldn't reach you. You didn't want to be found and I thought you hated me. So... I tried to give you back your wand. It was more of an excuse to see you. I just wanted to speak with you but... you didn't even want it back."

Draco opened his mouth to say something but the question in his throat felt horrible.

A dam had been broken and Potter shuffled even closer in his desperation. "I tried to get over it. I talked to Ginny about it and she said it was fine with her. Of course, she wasn't HAPPY about it but she said she was glad that at least I didn't lie to her. And then..." Harry closed his eyes. "Then you married Astoria Greengrass." He sounded broken, as if Draco had broken his heart. Draco was simply speechless. "I thought that's what you wanted. I thought you were happy with her. I didn't know you were gay. I...," Harry took another deep breath and opened his eyes again. "I decided to move on and married Ginny." He paused and it awfully sounded like he regretted that choice. "She wanted to be a Quidditch star, but one thing lead to another and soon we had our first child. She gave up on her dream for our family and I hate it because I had decided to move on, but I just ... something was always missing."

He looked at Draco and it didn't need a genius to figure out who that missing piece had been. The realisation still hit Draco like a brick to his throat.

"We had a fight. About half a year before you collapsed at work. Ginny was pregnant again, even though I had agreed that I would take over at home so she could finally follow her dream. I had enough money for that, to stay home and support her. It wouldn't have been a problem. But I was careless. We both were, I suppose. And then we got the message about you and I ... I quit my job to take care of you. And I guess that's when we both realised it wouldn't work out."

"Realised? Or did you have another fight?," Draco asked weakly. He didn't know what to say. He had no idea what to think. This was the last thing he had expected. Potter's marriage had been a picture book relationship. They had been THE talk of the century, the happy hero couple who had everything they ever wanted and everything they had ever deserved. The reality of Potter's feelings spoke an entirely different story but Draco had trouble processing it.

Harry shook his head, sounding troubled. "No. I think she was too tired to fight. Or she had expected it. Once Albus was born -" Draco bit back a remark at the name of choice. "-we got divorced." Draco stared at him. A divorce??? Potter closed his eyes when he noticed Draco's shock, seemingly conflicted. "She decided to take care of the kids until Albus was old enough for school and then the plan was that I would take the kids while she got on her world tourney. We'd visit and all. We decided to stay friends when we signed the papers. I feel like we were both relieved somehow. And now-" Harry looked at him and to Draco's horror there were tears in his eyes. "Now I likely collapsed too. Now she's stuck again. And my kids don't have a father and if I don't marry Ginny again, they will never even be born. And even if I do marry her, I can't even say for sure it will be THEM. And even, if by some miracle, they would be, I'd ruin Ginny's future all over again. And I don't know what to do anymore." He took a deep breath. "It's not even the life I wanted, for none of us." He covered his face with both hands and let go of Draco to do it. "Because I wanted a life with you."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. It almost felt painful, the way his feelings got the better of him, inducing him with hope. A hope that was unrelenting and brutally cut through every single of Draco's doubts, leaving him unable to deny it.

"And now? Now I'm finally here. I wake up to being your friend. I see you trying so hard to make better choices and I fell for you all over again. And you like me but you think you're somehow ruining my life and you have your obligations that you put before your own happiness. There never seems to be a right time to talk to you about it all. And I feel like all we do is argue and I missed it so much that it's embarrassing." He covered his face for a moment. "I want to be there for you. With you. I'm fine with being friends if that is what you want. I promise I'll learn to deal with it but I need you to reject me. Because I'm hopelessly in love with you and if you don't give me a proper answer, I'll be old and grey before I'll be able to move on." Potter was now blushing but his gaze was pure fire.

Draco opened his mouth and Harry interrupted him again. "Shit, I don't want to put you under pressure. You can tell me another day. Just... "

That did it, Draco's resolve snapped. "I want to be with you too." Draco's heart melted with the admission. He felt an instant dread and fear, accompanied by hope. He felt anxious, and surprised that he'd been so blunt, that he hadn't finally managed a lie.

At the same time, it felt like a ton of a burden fell from his shoulders. A secret so long denied and buried under all the things he kept telling himself, finally freed. "Of course, I... shit...yeah." It was as much as Draco could say before he would turn into a bloody mush of feelings. Happiness, relief, shock, regret and repeat.

Potter's confession had been a wall of text. Draco struggled with each syllable.

Draco was a mess and he knew that Harry was, too.

Their eyes met. Potter's breathing had turned uneven and Draco wasn't sure if he should still be matching his. Green eyes and Grey, both unsure what to do next. What to expect or what to do. So, Harry reached over and grabbed one of Draco's hands once more. "This is the worst place for a confession," Harry commented but didn't break eye contact.

"It's truly terrible. Your sense for propriety is surely something else, Potter."

Harry grinned. "Again with the last name?"

Draco smiled back hesitantly. 'What the hell am I doing?!' "Think of it as a pet name. If you think I'll ever call you babe or darling or any of that shit, get ready to sleep with one eye open."

Harry's grin widened slowly. They both knew that verbal intimacy was difficult for Draco. Which was kind of ironic, considering his career choice. "So ... does that mean we're together then?"

Draco frowned with a raging flush creeping up his face. Had that not been what Draco had just agreed to? Did he have to admit it once more? At the same time the idea of commitment felt outlandish and terrifying, Draco had never wanted anything more. "I guess it can't be helped. I was screwed from the moment we met, so... whatever." Draco looked away. This really was embarrassing. How do people DO this? And what was he even supposed to do now? Stay here? In a bathroom? And keep bickering like that? Was this bathroom even empty? Had people been listening? Draco felt his face heat up a bit more. "Let's get out of here."

"Okay." Harry smiled, squeezing his hand, almost as a reassurance. "DARling."

"Oh, fuck off."

Harry laughed and for the first time since he had returned, it sounded free. Draco could feel his own ears ringing from the realisation that Potter was HAPPY. It did something to his insides that Draco couldn't quite describe. Harry helped him up with still shaking hands. There was a smile plastered to his face that was just a tad bit wider than normal. Draco found himself amazed with the fact that HE had done that. He was the reason for that smile.

It didn't disappear. Even as they made it to the Gryffindor tower, Harry wouldn't stop smiling like a total idiot. Draco wasn't fairing much better. But in his case, it was more like a positive kind of dread that made him school his expression into a blank stare. When Harry pulled out the sleeping draughts for Draco from his robes, Draco's brain briefly short circuited. Because of course, Harry had even managed to finish the potions. Draco would kiss the idiot if he wasn't feeling so anxious about everything all of a sudden. Were this a joke, then Draco would be able to give in to the urge, but now every move he made would MEAN something. Was this a good idea? Wouldn't Harry grow tired of him eventually? Draco could feel the fear creep up his spine unwarranted. 'It's not even been an hour,' Draco thought to himself. His hands were sweaty. His mind was a mess. And GOSH, he had had a panic attack because Harry had confessed to him. How embarrassing. Draco covered his face which he knew was flushed to the roots of his hair.

"Hey, erm, Draco?," asked Harry, as Draco sat down on his bed right next to Harry's.

"What is it?"

"Should we... like... should we tell anyone, yet? I mean, I want to. But I feel we need to take into account what Voldemort might do with that information. I can't... I don't want him to torture you again."

Draco was never going to live down that new face colour. They would call him tomato head on the streets for the rest of his life. "I think I need to get used to this first," he admitted, nervously clutching his own robes. "It feels like... a lot. You know I never thought... I mean, I gave up on you years ago and..."

Harry sat down next to him and put one of Draco's hands in his. Again. Potter must be obsessed or something. The touch shouldn't have helped, except it helped Draco breathe. And realise that he didn't have to justify his choices. Not in front of Harry. "Let's test this out first." Something inside Draco was crumbling down and it scared him. It was a protective wall that he had put around himself ever since the day he realised he liked the bloody chosen one. The same day he had realised that Potter would never want to be his friend. That had been his whole life. His inner self was based on that protective wall and now Harry was here, knocking them down an that was terrifying as hell. Draco had never been with someone he truly liked. He had kissed Theo in fourth year as an experiment but that only confirmed to him what he had already suspected. And his wife had been an obligation. None of that had required feelings. Oh god, he needed to talk to Astoria about this!

"Yeah. Sure. No problem," Harry said, but still looked more like an excited dog. "We don't have to change anything for now. Just... do what feels right? We'll figure this out. Step by step."

Draco chuckled. "Why are YOU so nervous? You've been married with kids."

"I spend most of my marriage a nervous wreck," Harry admitted and sounded so awfully serious that it instantly made Draco feel a lot better. If Draco thought about it that way, Harry was such a giant idiot that Draco couldn't very well do anything wrong. Harry had seen him in his worst moments. Hell, he had apparently fallen for Draco in one of them. They could do this.

It was hard to believe that this had only been their first week in Hogwarts. Draco repeatedly had to remind himself that he was no longer single. Which meant, every time he looked at Harry, he had to remind himself that he was allowed to look. He was allowed to be close. He was allowed to hold his hand. It was domestically normal. It was as if nothing had changed and yet, everything felt different.

It almost distracted him from doing more research. But only just. Draco still needed to know how they should get to the Snake and how to best use Theo for it, without putting him at the brink of death, or worse, on Voldemort's radar.

The thing was that now, Potter was at his every back and call. Bringing him cookies, drinks and what not into the library. Which got him kicked out more than once with Pince screaming about it 'ruining the books'. You know, as if magic couldn't solve such accidents.

Draco couldn't really focus with Potter looming over his shoulder all the time, pretending to 'help', when really, he was just sitting next to Draco like an excited puppy, making Draco lose his ability to function normally. What's more, the more Draco watched Potter, the easier it was to believe his story. The man was fully focused on Draco while his former wife only made him look sad and guilty. Ginny seemed to be none the wiser for it. Which hopefully mean that she would achieve her dreams in some other way. One that didn't require marrying someone who had his heart set on someone else.

Draco blinked his eyes open and flushed at the idea of it. Potter's heart had been set on him for years! How utterly disgustingly sweet was that? Even though Draco felt awful for Potter losing his children that way... he also had to admit that Potter was right. It was unlikely that they would be the same as last time, even if he tried to be with them again.

Still, Draco tried to will himself to concentrate, or find rooms where Potter would not follow him, which was nearly impossible because of the map. Still, sometimes, Draco did find himself alone in an empty classroom. There too, Potter's smile was haunting him in their absence, distracting him from what he was supposed to be doing. Draco nearly ate his pen in his anxiety whenever that happened.

Today, something similar was happening. Although this time, Draco found himself in the Gryffindor common room, suspiciously alone.

A knock ripped him from his thoughts. Behind him, an owl hacked against the window. Draco stood up to let her in. He was greeted with a loud hoot, as the owl flew a circle around the room and let the letter fall into Draco's arms. Draco immediately recognised the handwriting as Theo's. And since he was alone in the Gryffindor common room, he didn't hesitate to open it.

'Dear Draco,

My mother sent me a letter with new instructions from DL. What you said was true. You and Potter are my new targets. I need your help,

-Theo'

Draco stared at the few lines and then banged his head against the nearest couch. Unfortunately, it was a cozy one that you couldn't hurt yourself on if you tried.

Draco was at a loss. What the HELL was he supposed to do now? An immediate panic set in. It was the kind that usually only pestered him when one homework was piling up after the other and reminding him how little time he actually had. And yet, he didn't have a single idea on how to help, how to proceed. All his options from his own sixth year had been eradicated, so he had nothing to go off of. He didn't have a plan, no ideas on where to start or how to make it work with Theo's knowledge and resources without Voldemort doubting him. Draco closed his eyes, gnawing on his pencil yet again.

"You shouldn't do that. It's unhygienic." Draco startled away from his thoughts and pen, finding none other than Neville Longbottom leaning over him. Neville raised a brow at him. "What are you doing here? There is a Quidditch match. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Ring a bell?"

Draco startled. That had been today? That explained why the common room was empty. "Sorry. I don't have the mind for it right now. What about you, why are you here!?"

Neville sighed and set down next to him. "I noticed that Harry was looking all over the Quidditch grounds for you. I bet if you were there to watch him, he'd be showing off more. He seemed frustrated." He grinned and shoved Draco in the shoulder. When Draco just rolled his eyes, Neville dropped down on the couch next to him. "I know he's supposed to be a married man, but the way he looks at you-"

"We're together, actually," said Draco quickly, instead of what he was supposed to say. Namely, that Potter slacking off in his absence gave Slytherin better chances at winning which was something Draco was very much NOT opposed to, and let himself slump against the backrest of the couch. He stared at the ceiling distractedly, not sure what that even meant.

Being together... Potter wasn't here. And Draco hadn't even wished him luck. Draco had to be honest, he had no idea what it meant to be in a serious relationship. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, supposed to feel, supposed to say. Yes, he wanted to be with Harry Potter. But then what? When Draco looked at Neville, he found the man staring back at him with betrayal. "What?"

"Since fucking WHEN?"

Draco sighed. Right... DRACO was the one who had said he needed time before they would tell anyone. But... this was NEVILLE! Right from the beginning of his time travel adventure, Draco had already decided that he wouldn't lie to him. Not to Neville. "A couple weeks ago? Don't tell anyone though. I trust you but it's still possible that Voldemort gets to know of this and uses it against us." Draco still felt somewhat anxious. He knew Neville wouldn't judge him but it was still hard to talk about it all.

Once upon a time, Draco had asked Neville to help him with questions of morale, this was one of those moments. Perhaps, Draco thought, it was the first time he'd approached him about it at all.

"No, no. You can't just drop that on me and expect me not to ask questions. First of all, you're going to tell me everything! What about him being married? What happened to that?" Neville sounded excited and Draco was sure that Luna would be the next to know, if the whackspurts hadn't already told her.

"It's complicated."

"Hit me."

And that's how Draco was forced to explain it all to Neville. The relationship, at least. Not that that hadn't been his goal. Draco told Neville about the potion making, about Potter's long winded confession and his own inner turmoil. Somehow it was easier telling Neville about it. Easier at least than telling Potter.

"But that's good, isn't it? You're with him now. Finally, I might add, the pining was terrible." Neville leaned against the couch, head stemmed on his hand, watching Draco from a slightly elevated position.

Draco gave him a blank look. "I did not pine."

"You did." Neville raised a brow, then twitched into a grin. "But I actually meant Harry. He was much worse than you."

Draco sighed and gripped his arms tight. He felt cold. "Is it strange that I'm already regretting it?"

Neville's smile fell. "Regretting what?"

"Agreeing to this." Draco flailed his arms. "To dating Potter. I mean, it's not like anything's different than before. He DID say that we don't have to change anything yet, he's happy as it is but it kind of IS different. And I have no idea what I'm doing!" Draco felt miserable, incredibly miserable, explaining this out loud.

Neville watched Draco be a nervous wreck from a safe distance for a couple seconds before leaning back on the couch, thoughts driving him to tap the leather in a rapid beat. "But you do want to be with him."

Draco didn't know why Neville found it necessary to point that out. "I feel like he guilt tripped me into agreeing."

Neville frowned. "From what you told me, I don't think that's what he was doing. He asked you for a clear answer, he didn't tell you to date him."

Draco knew he was right and he hated that he knew that. "Potter is... A good person."

"Wow." Neville chuckled. "That's all you have to say to that? Draco, I know this is hard for you-"

Draco grimaced. "You have no idea."

Neville's expression softened into empathy. "Maybe you should just let it happen. If you didn't like Harry, if you didn't want this, you never would have agreed. Maybe you allowing yourself to tell him what you want is what you needed. You're allowed to have that, Draco. I'm sure that Harry is glad that you agreed."

Draco sighed again. He felt frustrated. He knew that this was hard to understand. "Last year I told Potter that dating Chang was a bad idea because she wasn't mentally stable. I feel like a hypocrite."

For a moment, neither of them spoke while Neville processed what Draco had just said. Finally, Neville spoke up again, thoughtfully: "You didn't tell them to break up though. You offered Chang help. You gave her a safe space to figure out her feelings so that they had the chance to work. Maybe that's what you need."

Draco scoffed. "But that's different! I am the ONLY therapist in the wizarding world! I don't have that option!" Rage welled up inside him, reminding him of the ignorance he'd faced before, reminding him of how little these people cared. "I can't get help from a muggle therapist because of the secrecy law! I have to take care of myself! I can't-" He paused, and he felt his rage turn to sadness.

"Draco." Neville stopped him. "This Harry isn't as emotionally challenged as the younger one was. You can actually talk to him about your problems when Chang couldn't. Chang was alienated from her friends because of her feelings. You aren't. You can talk to us. You can talk to me."

Draco felt a warm fondness rush through his mind at that promise. It pained him, however. "You guys aren't my friends. Not really."

Neville stocked, aghast.

"Please,-" Draco shook his head. "That's not how I meant it. You are my friends, just not- Look." He took a deep breath. "You are my heroes." He admitted, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "I trust you to make the right choices, I trust you to know what's right and wrong. I trust myself to do the wrong thing so you don't have to. I trust that you won't backstab me or each other. I trust that you won't feed me muggle flesh. I-"

"What?" Neville's eyes widened.

Draco grimaced. "Just- You guys are something I could never hope to be. You're Gryffindors, you're brave and courageous. I'm a Slytherin in a red coat. Look at me-" Draco pointed at the room. The dark red leather sofas, the bright orange curtains, the soft cushions, they all contrasted to Draco's pale angles and greenish grey clothes. "I don't belong here. I don't even belong into this timeline. Not really. The truth is that I owe you. Every single one of you. My life and my freedom. You can empathise and you are a great friend, Neville, really, believe me, you are, but you have no idea how that feels. To know that even that is more than I deserve."

Neville's expression softened into sadness. "Maybe not." He crossed his arms as if he was feeling cold himself. "But I do understand what it feels to think I don't belong into this house. I know how it feels to be inferior to your friends. I know what it feels like not to have any, to feel distant at all times." He turned his head to look at Draco with grim acceptance. "I know how it feels not to belong. To not be enough for the people I care about. Sometimes you have to accept that there is only so much you can do."

"You..." Draco stared at him, realising with a startling clarity whom he was talking to. The boy who had been treated like a squib as a child. The kid who couldn't make any friends until his fifth year. The same boy whom Draco had tormented because it had been easy. Who had been petrified by his own classmates in his first year because he wanted to stop them from getting into trouble. Draco realised with emotion that his heroes didn't have perfect lives either. They were so strangely human. And Neville specifically, was so strong for turning out the way he had. "You're telling me to give up."

Neville, against Draco's expectations, nodded. Draco had expected him to say no, say that acceptance was different, that it wasn't just another word for defeat. "I think that there is a courage in giving in too. Since you turned back in time, you've been fighting, Draco. Either fighting or running. And you haven't stopped for even a second. You're afraid to stop. You've been afraid of the good that you could have if you did. Be brave, Draco. And hold on for a minute." Neville clapped him on the shoulder and for that brief moment, their eyes met.

Draco knew Neville was right. Of course he was right and Draco wished it were that easy. Because Draco wasn't brave. Draco was a restless coward. "I can't."

Neville's hand halted right over his shoulder and he drew back in surprise and confusion. "Why not?"

Draco stood abruptly. "Because there is a war coming." He felt Neville's eyes on his back but he wasn't done. "And Voldemort is already on his way to somehow invade the castle and the snake remains undefeated and he has my MOTHER and -" Draco nearly said 'and my friends'. "-and Potter is already so distracted by us that he keeps forgetting that he hasn't won the war yet."

Neville sat up straighter. "But we won last time."

"There is no guarantee that it will happen again!" Draco closed his eyes and hugged himself close. "There is no guarantee that people won't die. There is so much that could go wrong. I can't allow myself to get distracted like this." Now he was just reminding himself of his responsibilities. "I can't rest until this war is over. I can't have anything unless Voldemort is dead and everyone is safe."

"Draco." Neville sounded distraught as he said his name. "You can't win this war on your own!"

Draco swirled around. "What if I have to? What if that's the very reason why I came back? Something- someone sent me back in time to our fifth year. To DO something! To protect the people who died last time. I was given a second chance and maybe I was given it to change fate."

Neville didn't say anything after that. He just watched Draco with pity. It drove Draco nuts. "You think it too, don't you?!"

Neville averted his gaze. Conflict mixed into whatever he was feeling. "Draco, don't you think this is too much for one person alone to bare?"

'Maybe I'm not supposed to bare it!,' Draco thought wildly but didn't dare say it. 'Maybe I am meant as a sacrifice.'

"No, I suppose not." Draco said and sat down again, this time opposite of Neville. "But I still need this war to end. I need us to win." It was a testament of Draco's personal growth that he managed to say 'us'. Yet, it wasn't a relief when he had to acknowledge that Neville would insist on helping him.

Neville had turned quiet. More quiet than usual anyway. "Perhaps you're right. The war is inevitable while Voldemort is alive. Which means that we should get to him before it begins. We need to get to the snake, right? And then Voldemort himself. How do we get there?"

Draco was glad that Neville was here but it frightened him how ready this boy was to join him. He was sixteen, for goodness sake! He shouldn't be worrying about murderous snakes and wars. "To defeat the snake, we need the sword of Gryffindor."

"You said I pulled it from a hat, didn't you? Where is it?"

Draco felt himself growing uneasy. "In Dumbledore's office, most likely." He hesitated. "I doubt that Dumbledore would give it to us." Actually, Draco wasn't so sure about that.

Neville nodded. "But it's good to know where it is."

"Yeah." Uncomfortable, Draco continued. "But we have to get to the manor first. How do we do that? We can't just waltz in and my stealth abilities nowadays are quite limited."

"What about polyjuice potion?" Neville asked. "We don't have to go directly to Malfoy manor. We could disguise ourselves first."

Draco shook his head. "No. Polyjuice only mimics what someone looks like. Your marks wouldn't be working and Voldemort would notice-" Draco stopped, eyes widening. 'Hold up.'

"But you have a mark." Neville pointed out the obvious flaw in Draco's logic. "You could distract them."

This was not the direction Draco had wanted this to be headed. "But we would have to find Death Eaters first. Some that are loyal and that we know enough to impersonate them. Voldemort keeps tabs on his Death Eaters."

"That's true." Neville said, sounding almost defeated. "If only there was a way to lure them here somehow."

Draco nodded, silently agreeing. Then his mind halted once more as a memory tickled in. During he original war, the war heroes had joined them while Hogwarts was under Voldemort's control. The daily prophet had actually published a story about that. There had been a tunnel where later Slytherins had been lead out of the castle.

The room of requirements had more than one secret tunnel leading outside.

How could Draco have forgotten?

He did not mention this to Neville.

The Quidditch game had been an annihilation. Just as it had been last year as well. The Gryffindor's were cheering in the Great Hall while Draco was hovering over his books, barely eating as he was trying to figure out how and whom to impersonate. He couldn't use another family member again. His father was still in Azkaban, his mother was in the dungeons being tortured and Voldemort was likely going to watch Bellatrix more closely from now on. But when it came to other Death Eaters, he had to take into account that Voldemort could read nearly every one of them. Not all had mastered the perks of Occlumency. Or he could impersonate Theo. But that would put Theo's family into even more danger. No. He needed to avoid that link as well, if possible.

Draco was engrossed in his thoughts as he noticed Harry sitting down next to him. "Hey, Draco. You weren't at the game." There was a nervous tone in Harry's voice but he kept on smiling. He could be so incredibly shy around Draco.

Draco didn't look up from his papers. "I know you guys won. Congratulations." When Draco looked up, he had an idea. "What are your thoughts on drinking poison tonight?"

Harry stared at him, eyes wide. "What?"

Draco handed him Theo's letter. "We should do it soon. The sooner the better, don't you think?"

Harry blinked. "You want to POISON us tonight?"

Draco nodded and met his eyes, completely serious. "It's right after a Quidditch match. Voldemort won't be suspicious if we were caught by surprise while we got drunk at a party or something."

Potter stuttered. "But you're a Slytherin! Why would you celebrate with us if it's your house that lost?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm a traitor. It would be weirder if I weren't. Also, someone needs to find us and get us to Madame Pomfrey. And I think Hermione can use her connections to Mrs. Skeeter again. It will be easier to believe if it ends up in the prophet."

Harry gaped at him. "I'm not going to let you drink poison. You almost killed yourself last year and you're still weak form the time you drank that cursed potion at the lake. Voldemort isn't going to believe it was a threat on your life. He'll believe you did it to yourself on accident."

"OR," Draco countered, "he'll believe it was meant to LOOK like an accident. And that's why I think we should both do it. It would be more believable if you got dragged into it, too."

Harry shook his head. "Draco, you're still recovering. I will not let you drink poison!"

Draco fumed. "But tonight would be the best excuse for it to happen!"

Harry looked almost miserable. "No, Draco. We're not doing that. Not tonight. Besides, you weren't even at the game! Why would you celebrate something you didn't care enough about to show up to?" There was an accusation in that statement. Harry reached for Draco's hand but Draco pulled his away as soon as their skin touched. Harry looked up, confusion written over his face.

Draco ignored him. "Maybe I should ask Theo to use Sectrum Sempa on me. If you find me in time -"

"That would look desperate."

"Believable!" Draco corrected him. Theo WAS desperate, after all.

Harry squinched his eyes. "You're not that stupid, Draco. If Theo openly attacked you, he'd be under Dumbledore's supervision! That would be convincing but it's way too risky for him! If he was expelled, then what do you think will happen to his family? Either would be too great failures for Voldemort to accept. He'd kill him. And I know that you know that, too. You're planning something else and are trying to distract me. I have the feeling I'm not going to like it."

Draco paused and bit his lip. "You never like my plans."

Potter scowled. "They usually contain you killing people. Often, I'm the target," Harry countered even though the fondness in his voice betrayed him. He considered for a moment. "Or yourself." He didn't sound very happy about that.

Draco huffed. Then sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept much and he knew that Harry could see that. It made him feel vulnerable and seen and cared for. It was a dangerous feeling to have. "I have... an idea. But you're REALLY not going to like it."

Harry let out a silent laugh. "How about you tell me all about it tomorrow? Today we celebrate. You're going to mingle with my friends and you and I will calm down. You've been staying up all night lately and you need rest. You need to get your mind off of things. If only for one night."

"I can't afford to rest." Draco hadn't mean to say it but how could he ever lie to the chosen one?

Harry put a hand on his shoulder, where Draco couldn't escape him. "You're not in the manor. You're in Hogwarts and under Dumbledore's protection. Voldemort isn't here. You CAN rest."

"Easy for you to say," Draco muttered. "You've never been trapped with him under the same roof."

Harry squeezed his hold on him. "No. I was trapped with him in my head." The, 'for seventeen years' was thankfully left unsaid.

Draco blushed, feeling embarrassed that he had forgotten about that. Guiltily, he met his gaze. Potter played his cards well today. "Alright." Draco closed the book. "If you insist. But after that you help me fake murder attempts on both of us!"

Harry smiled. "Only if you come with me on Friday to join Sirius' club."

Draco made a face. "Do I have to come?"

Harry nodded. "It would mean a great deal to him."

Draco sighed. "Fine. You're a bad influence."

Harry seemed positively delighted at that comment. "Thank you, darling."

"Don't ruin it."

The party was probably not a disaster, Draco thought as he watched everyone having fun from the sidelines. He didn't think anyone would blame him for staying aside while they got shit faced and stuffed themselves with stolen treats from the kitchens. Beside him, Hermione was patiently reading one of her books and not saying a single word. For a few moments. Draco wanted to ask her to join him in the library, so that he could say he had mingled. But Harry was sending him glances in between laughing with his friends, which meant that Draco was under his supervision and absolutely not allowed to leave. Or do anything useful. And yes. They had come so far that reading counted as something useful. So, Draco remained there, staring at nothing, forced to relax.

The Gryffindors partied quite differently than the Slytherins, so it was at least interesting to watch. Instead of a quiet ceremony, in which the the Slytherin players would be given prefect privileges and receive flower bouquets and love confessions from some of their fangirls, the Gryffindors were loud. They jumped at their players, screamed in their ears, stole food from the kitchen, instead of having a gourmet chef prepare high quality food for them, and danced and sang and got utterly drunk. It was fascinating. It was like watching monkeys on drugs.

"You're awfully calm for someone who's team just lost."

Draco hadn't expected Hermione to initiate a conversation. She hadn't even looked up. It was pure chance that he understood that he was the target of her attention. And only because well... he was the only Slytherin here and the comment wouldn't have made sense otherwise. Her bushy hair came down in almost tamed waves today and her legs were dragged up on the couch. She had her PJ's on and was probably, much like Draco, only here out of obligation. "I don't particularly care."

She pouted a bit, then finally closed her book without a noise. It was loud around them. People were laughing and screaming and it was a technical wonder that they understood each other. Hermione noticed this, so she chanted a charm that cancelled out the noise.

Draco could have done that too but he hadn't done it. He had learned early on how to read people's lips and distinguish noises. It had been essential to his survival that he knew whether or not the steps before his door belonged to his mother or Bellatrix, or if the slithering noises were due to the pipes or Nagini. And, of course, when he was speaking to the Dark Lord, it was essential that he understood the hissed commands, even if they were in the middle of a muggled up road. Voldemort didn't like to repeat himself. It's also part of the reason why sleeping came hard to him. If the nightmares didn't wake him, then snoring or other noises would. The only thing worse than noise was complete silence. Complete silence didn't bode well for anyone. This noise was as overwhelming as it was distracting.

"You've changed," she said so with a pointed glance.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

She shook her head. "Since the ministry."

Draco nodded. "Is that surprising? You all know what happened."

She regarded him with a glance that slightly resembled Dumbledore's. She was scanning him and it was unnerving. "I just noticed is all." She took a look at her book and then placed it on the table before them. "You seem healthier."

"Can't get much worse after the Inferi."

Draco tried a smile but she only tilted her head, before she rested her elbow on the lean of the chair and glued her head to her hand. "That's not what I mean. You're eating. And you're not avoiding us anymore."

"I wasn't avoiding you." Draco furrowed his brow. He had been avoiding the Slytherins, not the Gryffindors, hadn't he? Also, had he really been eating more? Surely she was imagining that.

"You were. Even when you were talking to us, you usually left as soon as you could. You were always by yourself. It's nice to see you relying on us." She bit her lip then. "I can't believe you're the same person who made 'Potter stinks' badges in our fourth year.

Draco snorted. "Not quite the same person, I'd like to think."

Hermione smiled. "No. Not quite. You're much more mature. Harry is, too. This one, at least." She nodded in Harry's direction and sighed. There was something wistful about it.

And Draco understood that in some sense, while Draco had gotten his Harry back, they had lost theirs. When the man had grown up so suddenly, Draco had been given a companion, but this time had lost its hero. Harry was still doing stupid shit with butterbeer and beans, so Draco couldn't agree that he was very 'mature', but he understood what she meant.

"He forced me to come. I had important things planned for tonight. He wants me to forget about the war but I don't think I should. Not that I could if I wanted to."

Hermione nodded absentmindedly. Whatever the point of this conversation was, it seemed to trail into half deep, half small talk. Perhaps this was her way to party. If she was always like this, Draco thought, then he might be able to invite her to one of those fancy dinners his father sometimes planned. She would fit right in with the high society... although not the racists. "What do you think happened to the younger yous? When you turned back in time, I mean. Obviously your older selfs are in a coma, but what about the young?"

Draco tapped the glass in his hand. It was the only object that wouldn't make Potter think he was avoiding the fun, while making himself believe he had lost all sense of class. The others carried those blasted, undignified, red plastic cups. "I think they are still there. Deep down. With me it's harder to see, but with Harry... he's got memories from two timelines. I believe they are both in there. Young and old. Existing in our heads at the same time."

She gave him another glance. "If we defeat Voldemort early... what will that mean for the timelines? Will both continue to exist or will one of them get deleted? What do you think?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I hope that this one stays the way it is. If we succeed, that is."

Hermione sat up a bit more, facing him straight on. The party carried on around them and some of the younger Gryffindor's complained about the lack of Fred and George in the tower. The two must have really livened up the place if they were that missed. "Is there no one you miss?"

Draco paused at that, considering it carefully. "I've never really... thought about that. No. I don't think so." He took a sip and shrugged. Not like that anyway. He missed his friends, his family. But he missed them from before the war. Now they were here and he still wasn't satisfied.

Hermione's thoughtful expression turned into something suiting a funeral, rather than a party. "You mean... no one? Not your parents, your friends... Not even your wife? I know you didn't love her, but I mean..."

"We lived apart," Draco explained, not mentioning that Astoria had been sick. It was complicated to explain why he had abandoned her in that state. "I lived with my parents because I had nowhere to go. My..." Draco paused, not entirely sure how to phrase it. "My mother protected me in the war, but... it was too late by then. I was already broken from it. And my father? My father is the reason that pushed me into that position. My friends betrayed me in the war, or died, or... went insane because I didn't care enough for them to warn them of Voldemort. Even after the war, our relationships were strained, if not completely irreparable. And then the trials, I..." Draco was about to say that he had missed Potter, but he couldn't exactly admit to it. Not when he had rejected the man in the future. And not when their relationship was meant to be a secret. Neville being the obvious exception. "I think I miss Sarah- my patients- I miss my job. It gave me purpose. And it helped me cope with things."

Hermione nodded slowly. "How so?"

The response was a shrug. "It made me realise who we were targeting in the war and ... how bigoted I've always been acting. After the war, it seemed that the entire wizarding world was against me. I blamed myself and no one else. Then... I had patients who went through wars, through abuse, through... break ups and grief. I realised how HUMAN they were. How much more in common we had than I thought. How they all seemed to deal with the same problems I did and that forced me to face that. And I may not have deserved it, but it felt like I could atone for my sins, and learn where I went wrong. I learned that I could change."

"So you forgave yourself?" Hermione smiled. Draco didn't return it and she took that as an answer, because her smile fell as soon as it came. "You mean to say... you still haven't?"

Draco laughed a little, then scrubbed at his forehead if only to hide his face. "After everything I've done? After everything I still do? I'm the one who hurts people. I survived. I wasn't... I don't have the right to be forgiven. I can't just... forgive myself." He made a thrown off gesture with one arm. How do you forgive yourself for partaking in a genocide? Maybe you shouldn't.

Hermione bit her lip. "You've been hurt, too. You're not the enemy, Draco." She meant it.

It felt final and it hit him harder than the punch she'd thrown on him in their third year. It was harder, lately, to keep his emotions at bay.

He'd never stopped to think that he wasn't JUST his own enemy. He was also his own first victim. And he hadn't ever stopped to acknowledge that. Neville was right. He had never stopped fighting. He had never given himself a break. Now he had been forced into a moment of rest and it all came bubbling out of him. Draco felt a bit like waking up and a bit like bleeding out. It felt like letting go of the emotions he'd tried so hard to contain.

For a moment, he thought he would go into a panic, but he didn't. He simply stared at his own hands and watched as tears fell onto his pale skin. He was still breathing with quivering lips. He wasn't even overthinking the situation, he was simply feeling the same pain he'd always felt. But for the first time he wasn't numb to it. For the first time he wasn't containing it or holding it back.

For all the times that Draco had fought for control, this felt freeing. Like letting go. Because the victims were allowed to feel hurt. They were allowed to cry. They were allowed to be weak and powerless. And for the first time in a long time, Draco felt like himself. It was an impossible feeling to explain. "I... erm... yeah." His voice broke and his eyes travelled everywhere except for her.

Hermione opened her mouth but whatever she wanted to ask died on her tongue as she thought better on it. She reached into her Pyjama pockets and pulled out a package of tissues and handed him one. Draco thanked her with a nod and wiped off the tears. Then she handed him a chocolate frog. Draco laughed a bit, embarrassed that she had seen that. "Thank you," he said and didn't mean the chocolate.

Hermione smiled. "What are friends for?"

Draco laughed again, shaking his head with a smile. He feared that if he didn't smile, he'd summon his boyfriend to fuss over him and he didn't want that kind of comfort right now. "Apparently to drag you out of your plans to save the world and join a feast for the wrong Quidditch team."

Hermione smiled again. "He cares about you. And you've been trying to face this war all on your own. All year."

Draco gave her a look. "The year just started."

"I mean last year. And all over summer break. You're closer to us now, but it feels like since the ministry, you're stepping further away from us. You've been impressively close with this older Harry too... but I can't help the feeling that you're putting distance between you two as well.

Harry doesn't want that. I don't think you realise how much he doesn't want that."

Draco looked down. "I know." She was right of course. Observant and smart and way too noisy for Draco's taste. This was just another reason why he feared her.

"Do you?"

Their eyes met and Draco was wondering if there was something he really didn't get. Harry wanted him around. Harry was worried. Harry was a mother hen, actually. He smiled at the thought. "I think so."

"Good. Just - do me a favour and try not to avert the war by yourself."

"I wasn't intending to," he lied.

Later, when Draco went to bed - though technically Harry dragged him there, because Draco had been a bit restless after all that noise in the common room and not really felt like he could rest yet - he thought about what Hermione had said. About forgiveness and whether or not he deserved it. He turned on his side and watched as Harry slept next to him ... in Harry's own bed. (It was still strange to have the beds so close to one another.) Harry was furrowing his brows in his sleep and Draco knew that the man probably had a nightmare. He seemed to have them almost as often as Draco had them. But Harry rarely woke from them and it seemed that in the mornings, he had forgotten all about them. Draco never managed to forget.

A look at his watch told him that it was 4 am and he felt himself growing more and more awake. Eventually, he just gave up. There was something he had to do anyway.

He got up as quietly as he could. Then he gathered his morning robe and went downstairs. First to the common room, and then outside. Technically, the fat lady shouldn't let him go, but at this hour, not even adventurous children roamed the hallways. And the Fat Lady and him had argued about his strolling habits for so long and so often, that she'd grown tired of the lack of sleep it caused herself. She simply groaned at his appearance and swore to never let him in again, then she went back to sleep.

Draco made his way further downstairs. And there, he made it to the room of requirements in silence, completely undisturbed.

The room he needed, opened up without complaint. The room looked just like he had left it. There was his bed, the few books he'd left behind on the nightstand and the green and silvery banners on the wall. Draco closed his eyes and as he pulled one aside.

The painting was still there.

"Hello, Ariana." Draco had not known her name in his last life. But he had known the painting and he had known the tunnel and where it lead to. And in the meantime, he'd caught up on who she was.

Ariana didn't speak. She just smiled. And it made sense. The painting didn't have a personality. Paintings like the one's in Dumbledore's office needed a trial period, where the wizard who was being portrayed could train the painting to be like them. Draco had read Rita Skeeter's book on the memories of Dumbledore a little over two years ago. He didn't believe all it had said, since he had influenced too many of Skeeter's articles himself to believe in anything coming from her feather. But he knew that she had valuable sources and that the events she speculated about were usually real happenstances that she just twisted into a story.

The portrait swung aside and Draco climbed through.

From the painting there was a long, seemingly endless tunnel that lead into the dustiest bar a Malfoy had ever stepped foot in. And when you dealt with illegal and cursed objects, that was quite a statement. When Draco finally climbed out of the tunnel, he found himself in a living room that was connected to said bar in Hogsmead. An old couch that might have had a colour once upon a time, distracted him for a moment, before the light of a wand blinded him and caused him to raise his own. The owner of this bar must be a light sleeper as well then.

"Who is there?! And what the hell do you want!" Aberforth Dumbledore looked like a grumpy version of Albus Dumbledore. The family must have been quite alliterative, Draco mused in his mind, since all their children's names started with an A.

Draco raised his hand, trying to show that he was not a threat. Aberforth did not seem impressed. "My name is Draco. Draco Malfoy."

Aberforth let down his wand. "Malfoy." He tilted his head. "The Death Eater kid who got his friend killed." He sounded annoyed. "Heard he's alive. What the hell do you want?!"

"I need your help." Draco said sternly, ignoring Aberforth displeasure. For a moment, Draco weighted his options. "And you are going to help me." He finally decided.

"The hell do you think you are, coming into my home at this god forsaken hour and demand my help! Get back in your bed, kid, before I make you."

Draco had never, not once, believed that Aberforth would help him. He was a Dumbledore. Dumbledore's didn't listen to children, they controlled them. They manipulated them into working for them and he doubted that Aberforth was any different.

"I already told you my name." Draco raised his wand more threateningly. "And I haven't come to convince you. You don't have a choice." The decision Draco had just made, weighted heavily on his shoulder. Never the less, he was not going to turn back now.

Aberforth laughed. "You think you can force me into it? Into what exactly?!"

"Assassinating your brother." Draco said, hand gripping tight around his wand.

Aberforth stared at him.

Draco felt cold sweat run down his neck. "Well, maybe not quite. That's just what I need it to look like."

Aberforth shook his head. "You're a fool if you think I buy any of that. I may have quarrels with my brother, but I have no interest in this. You couldn't kill him if you tried and if you think you can defeat me, you're even more of a fool. I am more powerful than you think. Just because I don't go parading about with prizes and my face isn't on a chocolate frog card doesn't mean I'm weak."

"I don't think you're weak. I simply know that Voldemort is stronger." Draco's expression was still tired but he understood that Aberforth still didn't trust him. He had no reason to and that was not something Draco was stupid enough to attempt to change. "I'm not asking you to aid me. I'm asking you not to stay in my way. You could get hurt." This was the safest way to get Death Eaters into the castle. And this was something that Theo could have come up with.

Aberforth laughed. "Hurt? I could shut this tunnel in a second, kid."

"That wouldn't help anyone."

"Better than helping Death Eaters."

Draco bit his lip. "I told you, I'm planning a trap."

"A trap." Aberforth rolled his eyes. "So you want to play the hero? I've heard of you, Draco Malfoy. You've been all over the Prophet. You're switching sides like other people their socks. You're a kid who is trying to fool the two most powerful wizards in the world. You're not fooling me. I don't trust someone who cannot decide which sides he's on."

Draco really didn't like him. "You have no idea what's at stake. It's not just your life that will be in danger. But better yours than everyone else's."

Aberforth's scowl narrowed into an even darker grimace. "Even if that were true. Do you really think a 16 year old could thwart Voldemort? Fooling him is one thing. But actually -"

"Harry Potter faced him when he was 11 and nearly destroyed him. He gave him a major throw back when he was 12. The past year, I have been helping Dumbledore -" Annoyingly, he was interrupted.

"Albus is involved in this?" Aberforth cackled. "Oh, I should have seen THAT coming. So you're working for him. Great job kid. You've got yourself turned into one of his favourite pawns, haven't you? You can be a soldier for him, how good for you. Don't you get it? You're going to die in this war. All for the greater good, I presume. My brother is going to sacrifice you and you're too naive to see it." Aberforth spat this out and a look crossed his mind that spoke of past pains he didn't dare disclose.

Draco's expression didn't even waver. "I don't know what your problem is but I was born into this war. But unlike you, I don't have the luxury to avoid it. If you really read the prophet, you should know that my parents are Death Eaters." Draco had read Skeeters book. He couldn't care less.

A momentary glance of empathy crossed Aberforth's face, but it was gone as soon as it came. "So, you want to save your parents, or what is your deal? You want to help the, perhaps?"

Draco's eyes turned even colder. "I'm not foolish enough to hope that any of us will survive." The reaction that caused was silent and unreadable. Draco made a step forward. "I'm not anyone's pawn but my own. This is my plan, not your brother's."

"Or so you think," the asshole muttered.

Draco didn't honour that with a response. "I'm also older than I look." Before Aberforth could respond, Draco beat him to it. "Eleven years, to be precise. I've been through this war. It's unavoidable. I'm just trying to save as many people as I can." He hoped that would spark some empathy, but he could already tell that this man was unrelenting.

Aberforth had no interest in Draco's tales. "By killing Cornelius Fudge? By risking MY life?"

Draco raised his wand at Aberforth, eyes furrowed in all the seriousness he could muster. "Sacrifices must be made. My demand is that you leave, Aberforth. So that this place will be open for a few Death Eaters to slip in. It won't be me who will get Voldemort's praise for this plan. I have a friend who needs this more than I do. And I need the circumstances to be in my favour while I'm at it. I'm the one who will be in control, not him. If you don't stand aside, you will be killed. And I don't care if it's a Death Eater who does it, or if it's going to be by my own hand."

Aberforth' gaze flickered towards the tip of Draco's wand. "This doesn't look like you're in control. It looks to me like you're desperate because you lost it."

Draco twitched. "I'm here to regain that control."

"And you'll get it by killing me?" Aberforth mused.

"No," Draco admitted and raised his wand higher. "I'll get it by killing HIM. I'm giving you a choice. You can stand in my way, or in theirs. Those are your options, because I sure as hell am out of mine."

Aberforth twitched. "I don't want to be involved in this."

"You already are. Stand aside. Fake your death. Leave."

Aberforth's eyes looked just like Dumbledore's, Draco noticed in an ill fitted moment of a flashback. It was like he was back on the tower. Dumbledore before him, not even defending himself as he asked Snape to do it for Draco. So that Draco didn't have blood on his hands. It was too late for that. Draco's grip tightened around his wand at the irony. He breathed more heavily but managed to stay in the moment.

"You should leave, kid. Hide in the castle. Or better yet, get on an island far away from any soul you could encounter. Let my brother fight this war. You don't believe your parents can survive? Then at least save yourself."

Draco laughed. He honest to god laughed, because how on earth could he not. "Are you kidding me?" He snapped. "I've spent the last twelve years regretting that I never lifted a hand. I've regretted nothing more than hiding my sorry arse while I risked everyone's life to save my own. I was under the illusion that not doing anything was better than making a choice. Because quite frankly, my choices all had the same result. It didn't CHANGE A THING." Draco caught his breath. "Inaction is a choice and it has consequences too. There is no place in the world where I can hide from any of it!" Draco spat at him with his last words.

Aberforth's eyes seriously widened. "That story of yours with the future is not a lie, is it."

"Of course it isn't." Draco took a deep breath.

Aberforth pondered about this for a moment, but then he shook his head. "My point stands. I am not going to leave my pub. And I'm not going to help you."

Draco's heart sank. He had feared that this would happen. His grip tightened around his wand one last time and he forced himself to apathy.

"Then, I'm sorry about this.

"Avada Kedavra!"

For a moment, all Draco could see was a green spark in the air, reflecting off Aberforth's bright blue eyes. At the same time, the man moved his arm in a circular movement, effectively deflecting the spell.

The spell should have hit Aberforth right in the chest, but the man REALLY was powerful. Aberforth's eyes widened in shock.

"Merlin's beard! You couldn't have just petrified me or something? It HAS to be murder?"

Draco was still. He felt the same way he had when he'd killed Cornelius Fudge. He felt cold and unafraid because he forced himself not to feel anything. "Fooling Voldemort doesn't work if you do things half heartedly," Draco said dryly, his eyes cold as stone. He raised his wand again, his bones shaking. He sent another spell, only half relieved when it didn't hit.

Aberforth however, looked like he saw his life flashing before his eyes. Whatever spell he used next wasn't said out loud, but Draco didn't care when it hit him. It had been diffingo, most likely, at least according to the slash that opened up in Draco's face. Blood welled from it, running down his cheek and dripping into his silk Pyjamas. "Avada Kedavra!" Draco yelled again without flinching, half dancing around Aberforth, and once again it was averted. Barely, this time. It also, barely missed the painting of Ariana. Draco was prepared to have an all out fight with the man, but Aberforth stopped him before it could escalate.

"Okay, hold on, STOP !" Aberforth yelled. "I accept! I accept!" Whatever was lacing his words wasn't fear. It was mortification.

Draco lowered his wand. "You will leave, then?"

Aberforth stared at him as if Draco was a monster. There was none of that 'he's just a kid' underestimation that he'd carried before. It was satisfying in a way. It also felt like a betrayal.

"Tell me one thing. Do you feel nothing, when you're casting that spell?"

Draco's expression didn't change when he told him the honest truth. "I feel everything."

The man didn't seem to have expected that. His rigid stance lowered just a bit. He seemed wrong footed somehow. "What are you even fighting for? If you die, if you continue on this road and burn your soul like this... What is left? What are you fighting for?!"

Draco involuntarily thought of Harry. He thought of his mother, of Neville, of Snape. "Pack your bags, Aberforth. Leave. I'll take care that you're reported missing."

Aberforth scoffed out a breath. "Now lies are enough? What about doing things half heartedly?"

Draco met his eyes head on. "I never said lies aren't enough. I just needed you to understand that I'm not joking."

Aberforth's expression fell. "You could have killed me."

"I took my chances." Draco may have lowered his wand, but he wouldn't sheath it away, not against Aberforth. The only reason Draco was still alive was that he counted on Aberforth' desire to not be involved in child murder. "But I do prefer that I don't have to." In truth, Draco had been fully prepared to hide a corpse tonight.

"Some of the neighbours will likely notice the green light through your windows. If you leave, we can report you missing. It will send a message to Voldemort -"

"Are you an idiot?" Aberforth scoffed. "You want this to look inconspicuous! Send word to You Know Who for Merlin's sake, but don't make it so obvious!"

Draco paused. "What do you mean?"

"You want Death Eaters to use this plan of yours to invade the castle, right? If everyone thinks a murder happened here, then this place will be guarded. Brew poly juice or something and hand it to that friend of yours. If You Know Who has spies in the castle besides them, make it look like they are impersonating me. I'll just be here, doing my business. When the time comes, I'll be out of here, and your friend can come and take over. Don't go around announcing my death like a complete IDIOT."

Draco held his breath and relaxed slightly. "I... alright. Okay. That makes sense. Let's do that."

"And now return to the castle. You should be in bed. And get that wound seen to." Aberforth shushed him back towards the painting.

Draco touched his face and saw as his hand came back bloody. "Oh. Thanks." He meant it, actually.

Aberforth shook his head. "I don't know what happened to you, but you're insane."

Draco didn't answer that.

Madam Pomfrey needed less than thirty seconds to fix Draco's wound. He only left a line of blood all over the corridor floors and he knew that by tomorrow, Filch would have declared him as the undesireable Number One. (Now that the Weasley twins were gone.)

Madam Pomfrey then used the last remaining 26 minutes and 23 seconds to scold him for turning up like that. She demanded to know whom Draco had been fighting against but Draco didn't tell her. After the scolding, Madam Pomfrey's frown turned into worry. Draco thought she looked young, almost ageless and he wondered if she ever changed in the future. He never saw her again after the war, nor did he know how long she had been working here. Perhaps she had always been there. The one constant in the history of Hogwarts. The thought made him smile a bit.

"There was a time when you would come in here for a scratch and make a fuss, so you could spread tragic stories about yourself." She didn't elaborate why she had said that and just shushed him out. She just shook her head, as if she missed the Draco who had been so foolish.

The wound didn't even leave a scar, which Draco was grateful for. His pyjamas were stain free with a wave of his wand.

And with a quick (or not so quick, considering how it were still so many bloody stairs!) trip back to the Gryffindor room, he got himself changed. Before he headed back down to an early breakfast, he got a hold of Theo's owl who had been waiting for him for a response. He gave her a small note with instructions and some treats for her patience. Then finally, he sent her off and made his way downstairs.

The others were still asleep. Harry and Ron, at least. Neville seemed to have gotten up already. He hadn't been in the common room, though. Draco hoped he would see him at breakfast.

He was getting much better at walking the stairs, Draco thought with slight satisfaction. He had climbed the beast twice and only had to take a break once! Neville would surely be proud of him. He did not, however, find Neville already sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Draco almost hummed, as he took some pancakes for himself. Only to then notice his stomach rebelling against it. "Ah," Draco said to himself. "I was wondering when it would taste like ash again." He put down the fork and closed his eyes, rubbing at them with his hands. Neville walked in five minutes later. He sat down beside Draco, looking tired as hell and overly concerned.

"Morning, Draco. Where have you been all night?"

Draco raised a brow. "What? Hmm. Nothing. Taking a stroll. you know how it is."

Neville's expression barely moved. If Draco didn't know better, he'd say Neville looked suspicious of him. "I see." He twitched uncomfortably on his seat.

Before he could say something else, though, someone put their plate down right next to Neville's. Her blond hair was a mess, as usual, and the wide pink glasses she wore didn't seem to have a proper function, or glass for that matter, but Luna was smiling as irritably angelic as ever. "Good morning, boys."

"Morning." Neville smiled upon seeing her, if also a bit nervous. "What are you doing at the Gryffindor table?"

Luna tilted her head. "I've missed you guys."

"Awe. How sweet of you." Draco smiled as widely as he could and downed his strength recovery potion in a swift motion. Harry had done a good job with them, too. Maybe he, as the son of a potions prodigy and the grandson of a potion maker, wasn't entirely useless at this. "I think we have herbeology together today, don't we?"

Luna beamed. "We do. Oh, and Professor Snape told me to tell you that Dumbledore wants to see you."

"Oh." Draco trained his expression to be normal. He had several ideas what this could be about. "Does he now?"

"Is something wrong?" Neville quirked a concerned brow. It made Draco feel like he wasn't being trusted. Which was probably fair.

"No. Nothing. I suppose he might want to talk to me about the snake thing." It wasn't a lie, it just left out many complicated details. "If you excuse me. If he wants to talk, I'd like it to be over before class starts."

"What about breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry." That one wasn't a lie either, but it made his friends worry, that was for sure. Draco looked at his half eaten pancake. "I ate half of it," he correctly assessed and Neville's worry lines smoothed out a tiny bit. Draco pushed himself up and dragged himself out of the great hall.

Naturally, that was the moment when he ran into Harry in the hallway. The raven haired time traveler arrived with the morning rush, rather than avoid it the way that Draco preferred to do it. "Morning," Potter beamed at him, something soft in his eyes that Draco really didn't want to deal with at the moment.

Draco managed to send him a smile. "Morning."

Harry stopped and Draco mirrored his actions. "Are you leaving already? Have you eaten?"

Draco smiled. Harry WAS a mother hen. "I have. I also have a meeting with Dumbledore. Apparently. Don't ask what it's about, I don't know either."

Harry nodded, confused. "Should I come with you? I can skip a meal. I'll just ask Ron to pack me a sandwich."

"No." Draco shook his head vehemently. "I'll be fine. Just... have breakfast with the others. I'll see you tonight."

Harry nodded, though he looked just as worried as Neville had. His expression, however, was tilted with irritation. "Oh. Okay. But tell me what you talked about, alright? If it's about Nagini, then I want to know what the plan is."

"Who says he's going to tell me what the plan is? It's Dumbledore." Draco rolled his eyes and punched Harry lightly in the shoulder. That's what boyfriends did, right? "See you later."

Only after Draco turned his back to Harry, did he take a shuddering breath to compose himself. Then, he made his way to Dumbledore's office.

If there was a place in Hogwarts that Draco would like to avoid, he could name a number of places. There was a time when he would have said it was the Gryffindor tower, of the forbidden forest. Back in his very first year, it would have been the Hufflepuff common room. Today, it was Dumbledore's office.

Whenever he was invited, Dumbledore wasn't there to welcome him. It is awkward to be a guest in an empty office full of secrets. Draco was always left alone on his own devices for at least ten minutes before Dumbledore showed up. And in those ten minutes he would always be alone with magical objects that even someone with knowledge about cursed objects like Draco didn't dare touch. In a small collection on a table next to the sword of Gryffindor were all the Horkruxes placed that had already been destroyed. Minus the locket, of course. As that one had been returned to Kreacher.

Other objects simply gave Draco the creeps. There was a mirror that didn't reflect Draco's face. They didn't even reflect the room. The entire mirror was empty. Draco wondered if he could step through it but he decided not to try. Then there was some kind of stone pensive that Draco knew held Dumbledore's memories. Draco had never been less curious, and he had never been very curious to begin with. Well... and then there was the talking hat.

Draco had used to wonder why on earth it was an old talking hat that told people which house to go to. Why wasn't it a riddle, a test, a prophet? Today, he was glad it wasn't a person who assigned the houses. He didn't know why it would bother him now. Just the thought of a person telling Draco to go to Hufflepuff out of malice made him sneer.

Draco wasn't a Hufflepuff. He did wonder sometimes, though, why had the talking hat been so quick to send him to Slytherin? Draco was smart. He had even shown that he was capable of dumb self sacrifices. He clearly portrayed some Ravenclaw and some Gryffindor personality traits. So, why? Sure, he's never had any doubt that he was a Slytherin... still didn't. He guessed he was just... curious. Maybe he was more curious than he gave himself credit for.

"You can put him on, you know?"

Draco swirled around and stared at Dumbledore, who never failed to appear out of thin air. Draco was 90% sure the man made himself invisible in his own room, so he had some time to watch everyone who dared enter his rooms. That, or to freak them out.

"What?" Draco felt caught off guard.

"You were looking at the talking hat. I can imagine that you would be curious where it would put you today?"

Draco frowned. "Not really."

"You're a Slytherin who sleeps in the Gryffindor tower," Dumbledore pointed out calmly.

Draco scoffed. "That was hardly my decision."

Dumbledore smiled once more and gestured at the hat. "Come on, why don't you ask him your questions? I'm sure you have plenty."

Draco didn't like this. The way Dumbledore was so calm. The way he puzzled Draco with his strange tests and remarks. Draco felt like he was being scanned again. Hesitating, Draco reached out his wand and let the hat fly into his outstretched hand. With another hesitating glance, he put the hat onto his head.

Draco had never had the hat sit on him. Last time, the edges had hardly touched his hair before it had announced his house for him. This time, it hung a bit in his face. Draco waited, arms crossed, as the hat looked into his soul. It was that moment that Draco realised that maybe that was the whole idea. Dumbledore couldn't read his mind, but the hat sure could. And if it could, then it could tell Dumbledore anything about him.

"Oh my." The rough sound of the talking hat drowned out Draco's growing paranoia, distracting him from ripping the hat off of him in an instant. It would look suspicious and tell Dumbledore what he was thinking from his action alone. "Young man, rest assured, I only see what is in your mind while you wear me. I cannot tell Dumbledore anything, even if I wanted to. It's in my confidentially clause. But it is interesting that you thought of that."

Draco knew that he didn't have to answer out loud and he was glad for it.

The hat murmured in his head. "You're different. MUCH different from back then. How long has it been? 15, 16 years? To you. To me... not nearly as long. Never had any doubt about you. A Slytherin through and through."

Draco exhaled a deep breath. "I know, I'm cunning and all." At least, he thought that's what his mind said.

"Slytherins aren't evil, even if you may think so." Draco thought it was interesting that the hat would say THAT. As if that was something Draco secretly believed. Perhaps he did. Everyeone else did. Maybe Draco had heard it so many times that he's started seeing it as fact. "Slytherin's have as much talent as any other house. Their preferences are simply set differently. Where a Ravenclaw learns for the sake of learning, a Slytherin learns to be informed of the people around them. Where Gryffindors would stand bravely against any threat before them, a Slytherin will do anything for those they are loyal to, regardless of the action it demands. That is rarely facing the villain and often seeking shelter, but it can mean either. Where Hufflepuffs are accepting of all, they cannot form relationships as strongly as a Slytherin can. Just as deep, but never as fierce. There is nothing evil in loyalty. It's simply easier to abuse."

Draco looked at his hands. "If there is some kind of lesson in what you're saying, I'd rather you were clear about it."

"You don't doubt whose house is yours. You don't doubt your loyalties. But you fear the depth of it. And you are right to do so."

Draco almost had enough. He was about to get rid of the hat when it stopped him once more.

"If you seek safety, seek it in the wisdom of the other houses. Take courage to be open about yourself with the people you care about. Do not distance yourself. Do not believe you're the only one who has the answers. You're about to go in a direction where you will lose the people you hold most dear."

Draco bit his lip. "It's for the greater good."

"You're creating a path to self destruction. That is not the greater good."

Finally, Draco pulled off the hat.

Dumbledore looked at him expectantly. "Have you learned anything?"

Draco growled at him, ignoring the question because clearly, the man had some underlying agenda in whatever he was proposing and Draco didn't like not knowing what it was. "Why am I here?"

Dumbledore walked around a table that stood between them and gestured for Draco to sit down on the nearest chair.

"Thanks, I'd rather stand." Draco put the hat back on the table.

"No. Take the hat with you. I have a feeling that you will need it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Draco froze. "Is this about the sword of Gryffindor? Because only a true Gryffindor can pull it from the hat, right? I talked to the hat. I'm still 100% a Slytherin."

Dumbledore nodded at that. "Ah. Yes." He paused, before he sat down with a sigh and kept on smiling. "Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor used to be good friends, you know? I think it's interesting that Gryffindor chose to create a sword that only a true Gryffindor could pull from the hat, by which he means anyone who showed great courage. While on the other hand, Slytherin created a room only a true Slytherin could open, whereby he defined a true Slytherin by the ability to speak with snakes. It is interesting to me, because our friend Harry was not a Slytherin when he opened the chamber of secrets."

"Do you expect me to pull the sword from the hat, because if you are -"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Take it anyway."

Draco thought about that for a moment. Technically, he knew that he would never be the one to pull the sword from the hat. Technically, he knew that this was Neville's story, Neville's triumph. And this was his chance to grab hold of it. This was his clearest connection to the sword of Gryffindor. Dumbledore was practically handing it to him on a silver tablet.

Draco's fingers twitched around the hem of the hat, then he let go and pulled his hand away. He would not make Neville a pawn. Not in Dumbledore's plan and definitely not in his own.

"That's not really why I'm here, is it?"

Dumbledore's smile fell a bit. "Last night you attempted to murder my brother."

Draco turned back around. "I was beginning to wonder if he might have mentioned it."

"I have told you not to get involved in this war any further than you already have. I cannot allow you to go around threatening people."

"You call that threatening?" Draco wondered if Dumbledore was okay. Actively casting Avada Kedavra, and aiming as well as he could would hardly be considered 'threatening' under normal circumstances.

Dumbledore's expression didn't change. "I wanted you to lay low, Mr. Malfoy. Focus on your studies. Focus on your health. Leave the plans to me." There was a pause in which Draco neither commented nor agreed to that. It seemed to give Dumbledore an answer to a question he'd never asked out loud. "Which one of your friends is Voldemort using as his pawn?"

Draco kept quiet.

"Draco -"

"If that is all you've got to tell me, then I'll be on my way. Class is about to start."

"I need you to promise me, Mr. Malfoy -"

Draco shook his head. "I'm telling you the same thing I told your brother. Do NOT stand in my way." Never in his life had Draco expected that he would ever end up threatening Albus fucking Dumbledore. Not like this, anyways. Yet, here he was.

"I'm old, Mr. Malfoy and much more powerful than you. Do you really think I would fear you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Do you think I could just sit back and let you handle everything? There a people I need to protect."

"You tend to put the people you try to protect at a distance, Mr. Malfoy. You should be holding them close. Trust me. And trust them. You cannot protect them while you're falling apart. You don't have to do this on your own."

Draco let out a deep breath. Why was everyone trying to tell him that? "Well, thanks for the therapy session, but I'm out of here. You can keep the hat. Give them to someone who can actually use it." Dumbledore was clearly trying to include him in some kind of plan. A plan he wouldn't disclose to Draco. And Draco didn't want to have a part in it, even if the hat would reveal information to Dumbledore that Draco wasn't willing to give. Draco left without being called back. Dumbledore simply let him go. And that in itself made Draco furious.