Harry opened his eyes slowly to find his head pounding so badly that he could hardly see. The room around his swam into focus very reluctantly and, as he blinked, the low murmur of conversation beside him stilled.

"Harry," Remus' gentle voice said, and he tried to make his eyes focus on the blob that he was sure was the werewolf.

It was almost like needing glasses again, only then it hadn't hurt quite so much to make his eyes cooperate.

"How are you feeling?" his friend asked quietly.

"Like the Quidditch team if practising with bludgers in my skull," he replied blearily.

"If you can sit up, Mr Potter," Snape's cool tones cut into his head like knives, "I believe I have something which may help."

Harry was not happy about the moving idea, since the moment he tried the pounding increased, but with Remus' help he managed to make it into a sitting position. At this point, a small flask was pushed into his hand and he upended it into his mouth without waiting to be told. It burned all the way down, but, as with most of Snape's concoctions, it was efficient, and it began to work immediately.

"Although not the most effective pain killing potion available," the Potions master said evenly, "I can guarantee that Mr Potter will have no adverse reaction to this one."

"Thank you," Harry said, genuinely grateful as the pounding began to reduce to a manageable level.

Now that he was upright and could use his eyes without fear of reprisal from his brain, he recognised the inside of Arthur's office at the Ministry, and everyone who had been at the hearing with him seemed to be squashed into it. He had been lying on a couch and he suspected that someone had transfigured it.

"How long was I out?" he asked quietly.

"Only about ten minutes," Remus it appeared was spokesperson, "which considering what Fudge put you through is nothing."

The cold feeling came back as Harry remembered what had happened in the court room, but this time it was internal and the Dementor did not make an appearance. The dispassionate, logical part of his mind rationalised that it was probably too weak after returning its only food source. How he had managed that was beyond Harry, and he just couldn't fit his mind round the idea.

"I didn't know," he whispered to Remus, horrified by the whole thing, "I didn't know I'd done it."

"I know, Harry," Remus said soothingly, "and if Fudge hadn't had Peter whisked off you would undoubtedly have undone it far sooner than today. That man is an idiot."

"I had him inside the whole time," Harry continued to whisper in disgust, "and I didn't know. How could I not know?"

The ideas that reliving the memory caused in him brought most of his rational thought to a halt. The Dementor had been his greatest fear for so long and that he had been capable of doing that to someone else was abhorrent to him.

"Dementors cannot give back souls, Harry," Remus said as if reading his mind, "they consume them. You took Peter's soul in revenge, but you did not consume it. That you gave it back is nothing short of a miracle."

The werewolf's words made sense, but they could not reach the core of what Harry was feeling. The horror of having to relive his kidnapping and all subsequent events was too much for him with the whole Wormtail incident on top. The darkness in him was flooded out by simple human distress.

"Please, can we go home?" he asked a little desperately and then he burst into tears.

Remus pulled him close and he sobbed into his friend's shoulder as the stress of the day poured out of him.

"Yes, Harry," Remus said gently, but firmly, "we'll take you home now."

Right then Harry didn't care how they made it back to Hogwarts; all he wanted was the safety and security of his room at the only place that was really his home. At that moment he was not some complicated Dark Creature he was just a boy on the edge of being a man who wanted to return to where he belonged.

~*~

Harry was a wreck, this much he was sure of and he barely made it back to Hogwarts. Apparating was not recommended for anyone not of completely sound mind so they had flooed.

Having staggered out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office he had managed to say goodbye to everyone except Remus, without whom he tended to sway worryingly, and the headmaster, who helped return him to the corridor containing the Room of Requirement without the rest of the school seeing him. It was interesting to find out how Dumbledore managed to move around the school so efficiently; the castle made passages for him if he requested it and the route to the upper corridor was by ways Harry had never seen before.

What he said to Dumbledore he had no idea, and he barely managed to tell Jeremy to let them into the room. Only as Remus half walked, half carried him into his living quarters did some of Harry senses switch back on and he looked up to see a very worried-looking Draco come to a halt in the middle of the room with a paper forgotten in his hand.

His lover was staring at Remus warily, and it then occurred to Harry that having not been able to stay at Hogwarts over the last week, Remus was unaware of what had been going on with Draco. As far as Remus knew, Draco was a vaguely hostile victim of Voldemort who for his own reasons had chosen to call in Dumbledore, not a friend and definitely not Harry's chosen lover.

"What in Merlin's name happened to him?" Draco demanded rather shortly, and continued his progress to Harry, which pleased different parts of him for very different reasons.

The moment his lover was in reach, Harry's arm snaked out to pull him closer and, with Remus on one side and Draco on the other, he let his head fall onto his lover's shoulder. Just the smell of Draco and the feel of him so close helped calm his raging thoughts.

"He gave back a soul," Remus said eventually, and Harry knew his friend sounded confused and reluctant.

"Stupid Gryffindor," Draco said pointedly, "what did you go and do that for; they could never have proved it was you?"

That made Harry's head come up again as he looked his lover straight in the face. Something about Draco's tone caught his attention.

"You knew," he said plainly, totally at a loss to explain it any other way, "how?"

"I saw you, on the way out with Mother," the Slytherin said as he looked Harry over rather worriedly.

Harry couldn't quite comprehend that.

"But you came back," he said incredulously; Draco had seen him eat Wormtail's soul and yet he'd still come back.

"I told you I couldn't explain why I came back," his lover said pointedly, "so don't ask me. Why did you give the slimy bastard his soul back?"

"Fudge dragged him into the hearing," Harry said angrily, the heat in his belly giving him some of the strength he seemed to have lost, "I looked him in the eye. What was I supposed to do?"

"Let him rot," Draco replied resolutely, "he's a coward and a liar. Voldemort brought Dementors to the Manor at times, there would have been traces; Fudge could never have proved it was you."

Something was off here, his lover's argument sounded almost personal.

"What did he do to you?" he asked a little more gently, still annoyed, but curbing his reaction with concern.

Draco pulled away, anger on his face, but Harry knew it was not at him.

"He was Voldemort's messenger," the Slytherin said shortly, obviously uncomfortable with talking about the situation with Remus present, "he would come to my room every night with Voldemort's latest offer. He was a lackey of the worst order."

The last few words were spoken with a finality that Harry recognised, and he knew he would not extract any more information out of Draco, at least not with Remus there. Gathering his strength, he pulled himself away from the werewolf and turned to look at his friend.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, "I wouldn't have made it without you."

"You're welcome, Harry," Remus replied, his eyes flicking to Draco, "alright if I come and see you later?"

Harry nodded.

"That would be great," he said honestly, "I'll send Dobby when I'm free if that's okay."

Remus smiled at that.

"Dumbledore has given me a room for the night," the werewolf replied, "so I'll be here all afternoon and this evening, until tomorrow lunchtime in fact. Just let me know when to visit."

Harry squeezed Remus' hand and then his friend headed for the door at which point he turned his attention back to Draco. The Slytherin's back was taught and he resonated tension; Draco's dislike of Wormtail seemed to run almost as deep as Harry's. Taking a step towards his lover, he reached out and then discovered that walking and standing up were two different things and although he had strength for the latter, he did not have for the former.

"Oh bugger," he said pointedly as his knees began to cave.

Draco turned instantly, but even with Seeker reflexes he was just that bit too far away to be of assistance. Shifting his weight on the way down, Harry managed to land on his backside, but the bounce still hurt, and he growled rather loudly at himself and the world in general.

"Temper, temper," was Draco's opinion on the matter, which earned him another growl for his trouble.

"Are you bloody going to help me up or not?" Harry demanded waspishly.

"And there I was going to be nice to you and take your mind off your awful morning," Draco said as he bent down to help drag Harry up.

It then occurred to Harry that it wasn't even lunch time and his lover was not actually supposed to be there.

"Shouldn't you be in lessons?" he asked, trying to distract the distinctly surly part of his nature that was doing its best to surface.

"I couldn't concentrate," Draco said without the slightest sound of remorse, "so I came here to wait. So far no one has tried to pry me away."

Harry snorted his acknowledgement of that statement; there would have been little point, Draco was almost as stubborn as he was.