They crashed into the middle of a living room. Draco hadn't moved but Kreacher's magic didn't exactly ensure a soft landing. Instead, he was pretty much thrown against the floor. Draco felt so numb that he hardly felt it, nor did he have the energy to react to the pain and discomfort that always came with apparating.

There were people in the room, jumping to a defensive stand but he didn't recognise them. They could be anywhere and Draco was completely unprotected. Vulnerable to the core. He might die yet. But Draco was prepared for that, welcomed the relief, even.

"Draco!" someone said and Draco felt that someone's hand on him.

"Harry, don't!"

Whose voice was that? Wait, Harry?
Draco's vision was blurry. But he recognised the green before him. "Hey, Hrry," he slurred. Those were Harry's emerald green eyes, Draco would recognise them anywhere, under any circumstances, no matter how close to death he was. No matter how far his mind was lost, those eyes haunted his dreams and every waking moment.

"He needs water, master Potter! He needs water!"

"Water?" Potter sounded confused as his hand rubbed against Draco's temple. "Water," he muttered, more accepting this time. And then, suddenly, his eyes widened. "WATER!" He paled.

There was a muttering of a spell, and then Harry held a goblet against Draco's lips. Draco took all his strength to drink from it but there was nothing inside the goblet. His mouth was dry. Dry and foul. Draco laughed manically. He didn't have the sense to know why.

Harry paused. "No." A whisper. He sounded somewhat panicked and tried the whole thing again. "NO NO NO! Draco, where the HELL have you been! You already had the locket, you idiot! What were you doing there!"

Draco couldn't think, he could only laugh. He didn't understand what was going on, why he couldn't drink, why Potter was here or what Potter was asking of him. He could barely register his presence. Draco's laugh was a dry croaking sound. "He knows," he said because it was all he could think of. His own failure, the fact that he'd ruined the mission.
He'd ruined the future.
His mind swam but he could see the blurry green and that was as much comfort as he could allow himself. "He knows." Then, finally, as if there had been a spell inside that cave keeping him from it, Draco vomited green, poisonous water on the floor before he faded into a nightmare. He could hear himself screaming through it.

Draco woke up in a bed. A familiar bed. He couldn't move, not that he wanted to.

Draco was dizzy. He didn't immediately recognise where he was. He could be anywhere, between the manor, Hogwarts, that cave, Grimmauld place, or heck, even a gutter. It was difficult to tell. The latter of that list he concluded, was definitely not it, since he had a nightstand.

On his nightstand stood a glass of water but Draco's arm wouldn't move. It was then, that the green around him started to make sense. Normally, the sight might have triggered him, but at the moment, Draco felt indifferent to everything. Perhaps it was less indifferent than desensitised. Thoughts, memories, they passed through his mind, but they couldn't hurt him further than they already had. He was too raw, too numb. All he knew was that he was alive and still in pain. His eyes burned, but it seemed that his tear-tugs were dried out.

It came to him slowly, that this was Regulus' room. The shock wasn't enough to help him up, it was but a thought that registered in his mind, much like all the other thoughts did, unhindered and but a nightmare that had been turned into a horror movie he'd watched so many times that he knew all the jump-scares by heart.

When he finally managed to sit up enough to reach for it, the cup emptied right in front of his mouth. The thirst he felt suddenly felt even more threatening. Draco laughed at his own idiocy and doubt reared its head.
He was going insane. Why on earth would there be water to begin with? He had hallucinated it, surely. Maybe he was hallucinating the entire room? Maybe he truly was in a gutter somewhere, or perhaps still on that island. Yes, that made more sense. Draco was stranded on a dry rock, reaching for nothing. And if he did reach something, it would just be an invitation to drown.
For a while, Draco lay there, wondering which would take him first. The Inferi or the thirst.
If he was to die of thirst, then at least it shouldn't be too long. How did he still have enough strength inside him to cry? To be afraid? His muscles were spasming under his uncontrolled laughter, accompanied by tears, twisting in his stomach. None of this was funny but he couldn't help himself. He felt insane, he WAS insane and he was beyond help on his deathbed. No one would come. He was alone, and he would die alone. And it would be a slow, painful death. Draco cried against the soft pillow that his mind must have fabricated.

Draco lay there, unable to move or shout for help. His breathing burned in his lungs, highlighting his need for water. His heart was pounding in his chest like it desperately clung to life and how dare it, when Draco wished it all to be over with.

The mark on his arm was burning. He hadn't felt it between all the rest of the kitchen knifes stabbed through his skin, drenched in spiritus and set on fire (metaphorically speaking). It was unfair. There the pain was slowly leaving him, giving him SOME reprieve and then the stupid mark brought him back. He recognised what the burning signalled. Someone was getting punished, that was certain.

When Draco looked searchingly at the table, he almost laughed again, this time about the ridiculousness of the situation. Voldemort had forgotten to take Bellatrix' wand from him. It lay there on his nightstand beside his own. This was ridiculous. Draco had BELLATRIX's wand! What the fuck would he need that for now? Calling the Knight bus? For one insane second, he wondered if they would come if he managed to raise the wand. He wasn't at a street, nor did he believe that the Bus could drive through cave walls or over a lake, but the thought was there.

His laughing, that sounded more and more like weeping didn't stop, probably due to the fact that he was dehydrated. He'd gone mad in that cave. Memories repeating themselves in his mind and they returned now too. So easily triggered, passing in and out of his consciousness, making him flinch sometimes, when he thought his aunt was truly hovering over him. He felt raw and sensitive, but compared to drinking that bloody poisoned water, this was nothing. Even if the green of this room reminded him of the Slytherin common room. Of Slazar Slytherin. Of snakes. Of Nagini.

When the door opened, Draco suddenly knew this wasn't a hallucination. He'd never hallucinated a houseelf into existence before... Or had he? In the cave, he could have sworn-

Draco gasped, the shock hitting him harder than the thirst and stronger than the pain. No. He really WAS back. Draco's hallucinations were always torture. He'd never been saved by his dreams before.

Kreacher walked in almost hesitantly. He was approaching slowly and looked extremely pained. Behind him followed no other than Harry Potter himself. Draco's laughter vanished, replaced by an ache that he couldn't force down. The tears that followed now came without his consent, flowing quietly like molten relief.

Harry Potter was alive. Breathing and living and likely judging him and he was right here in front of him. Draco nearly passed out from the whiplash of the breath he let out. He had no control on his emotions whatsoever, was a fact he registered at that moment. Kreacher had a little bowl with water with him and went to Draco to cool his head.

This was a mockery. The water in the bowl could reach his head, but he couldn't drink any. Draco might as well be skinned alive.

Harry was not alone. Behind him stood Ron, Ginevra Weasley and Sirius Black. They looked not only mistrusting and wary, but also extremely disgusted by his very presence.

After the day he'd had, Draco couldn't blame them.

He focused on Sirius, his features still so similar to Bellatrix. Images of blood and gardens and knives flashed in his mind but he still didn't move. Cold sweat gathered in his palms and he closed his eyes to avoid the pain in his head. He blinked them open again when the images passed. Sirius was alive. He had not died at the ministry. He'd read about it in the prophet, but it was a whole different thing to see him. Not that Draco wasn't used to seeing the dead alive.

Harry was the only one whose expression hadn't changed upon entering. He remained somewhat impassive before he finally stepped closer to really face him. He grabbed Draco by the chin, turned it from one side to the other, winced at what he found, but ultimately let out a sigh. He seemed to be coming to some conclusion to which Draco had no context of. There was, however, something different about him. He looked much calmer than when they had invaded the ministry together. He looked.... more mature. Could dying and one month of distance do that?

The mattress dibbed under the weight as Potter sat down beside him. "The water still disappears, doesn't it?"

Draco's mind swam with all his memories about Harry. About the bathroom incident. About the fiendfire, about the time at the manor. In his head, he heard Hermione screaming. Draco squinted his eyes shut with a wince. He wanted to pay attention but the memories made it hard.

"Harry!" Ron sounded angry. "Will you finally tell us what's going on? Why are we allowing him to stay? That guy got you KILLED! Now he's dying on a mission for Voldemort and you just -"

"Voldemort knows," Harry's voice was soft and quiet as he continued to ignore everyone but Draco. "That's what you said. 'He knows'. What does he know, Draco?"

Draco tilted his head and blinked his eyes open at the bright face of his oldest rival. "Hasn't Dumbledore told you?" He should have told him! The Horkrux was dead! Dumbledore had no excuse not to trust him anymore! The urgency in Draco's voice was not something he consciously put there. Draco's tongue was loose, and his mind merely a whisper to his actions and feelings. "Didn't he tell you what we're doing?"

"We?," someone said in the background, but Draco could only see Harry. Nothing else was important.

"It's a tactic to deceive us for sure."

Harry shook his head but never turned to his friends, to whoever had said that. Instead, he put a hand on Draco's shoulder to force him to look at him. Not that Draco wasn't already doing that. "Tell me what happened, Draco. You already had the locket. Why would you go and die over the fake one."

Draco thought that there was something wrong with that sentence, but his heart was quicker than his mind. Potter wanted answers, so Draco gave them to him. It was as simple as that. "He took me there," his voice broke and he waved at the book shelf. "Like Regulus."

Sirius' barking voice made Draco flinch. "Regulus? What? When? Did you see him? Don't tell me he's alive!"

"SHH!" Potter only turned to glare at his uncle. "R.A.B.," Harry commented quietly, as if it were an answer and not creating a thousand questions instead. He closed his eyes and it looked like he was holding something back. "Fuck, I knew it. I hoped I was wrong, but I knew it! Damn it, Draco, what the hell!" Draco looked up to find his eyes, but Harry took the bowl from Kreacher and began cooling Draco's forehead with the cloth himself. The houseelf stepped aside, eyes shining with approval. "I know, Draco. I know everything."

Draco didn't know what Potter meant. Yet, he couldn't deny the tears that finally spilled from his eyes. His mind couldn't quite keep up, but subconsciously his heart did. Whatever it was, it sounded like Draco's mission was over. He felt a shockwave of relief. He felt, strangely, like he was finally allowed to die. And a part of him did, at that moment, die.

Harry sighed. "I kind of have ... overlapping memories."

Draco's heart tripped. Overlapping memories? That was when it finally registered. This wasn't just Harry, was it? Draco could see it in his eyes. The maturity, the recognition, the overwhelming Harryness that his counterpart just hadn't had. This was THE Harry Potter! The adult!

Suddenly, Draco's strength spiked. Enough to raise from his seat and grab Harry by the shirt, to scan him further, confirm that it wasn't another hallucination, he stared at him with wide eyes, recognising no other than THE Harry Potter, the original, in flesh and blood, in the younger Harry's body.

Draco must be losing his mind. There was no way that this was possible! But it was. It was a fact and Draco stared him directly into his emerald eyes. Draco laughed shortly, still in disbelief. This was impossible. Was Draco dead? Had he died and now limbo was mocking him? Then, there was a moment in which every reason and every question was buried deep underneath his relief, deeper even beneath his rawest emotions, so that Draco decided that he no longer cared.
Before he knew it, he was buried and weeping into Potter's shoulder. He couldn't help it. His entire body shook from pain and relief. He didn't care about the witnesses. He just went through literal HELL to get here. And here he was, the man from the other side. The chosen one. The saviour. Harry Potter, the man beyond the legend. The man from the very future that Draco had been thrown out of. He wept into Harry's shirt, well aware he was ruining it. But this was Harry! This was HE!

Harry took a surprised moment before hugging him back. His hands were warm on Draco's back. Draco's own were clenched partly into Potter's shirt, they dug deeper from his desperation. "It's okay. You're alive. You're save." Potter pressed Draco closer to himself as if trying to convince the both of them and rocked him back and forth. Draco would feel embarrassed if it wasn't so soothing.

Draco laughed through it, desperation turning them into sobs. "I can't do this anymore."

Harry ran a calming hand through his hair and put another on his back. "I know. You won't have to, I promise." The embrace was nothing Draco had ever experienced.

While this was going on, Sirius seemed to have decided that it was time for him to break the moment. "Harry, you still owe us an explanation! Why are we allowing him here? Just because he found one... Honknut?"

Harry looked at him, his eyes fond, even though he seemed somewhat angry with his godfather for some reason or another. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," said Sirius and crossed his arms.

"Yeah, try us," said Ronald. Draco was wondering if he was still allowed to call him by his first name. Draco kept clinging to Potter's shoulder and remained unable to see who was talking. It was better that way. Like this, he wouldn't be triggered by colours, or objects, or anything he may lay his eyes upon. "Tell us why we had to tell the ministry that you're dead! Tell us why we had to keep this worm alive! You've been all mysterious since the ministry!"

Harry shook his head. "I know it's a lot." He put a hand into Draco's unkempt sweaty hair. "But to keep it simple, Draco and I are from the future."

For a moment. Harry let the words hang in there, making even Draco anxious to hear more. At the incomprehensive glances he received, Potter continued. "We've fought this war before. Though I must admit, I don't know how on EARTH Draco figured out what was going on on his own. You were after them, right? The Horkruxes?"

Draco looked up again. "Regulus book. On the shelf."

Harry blinked. "Draco, no one can get any of the books from the shelves. Believe me, I've been trying for nearly a decade."

Draco nodded, still heaving with tears. Potter had inherited this place after all. It made sense that he would have tried to make it a home with his wife and get rid of the dark magic. His tears weren't likely to stop, but he had to answer any question he could before he completely dried out. The talk about Regulus brought his mind back to the cave and the water and the thirst and he nearly gagged into Potter's shirt. "I'm a Slytherin." He hoped that would convey enough. By the looks of it, it did. To Potter at least, and who would be surprised by that? That Potter could read him with a single glance?

Harry nodded and waited a moment for Draco's shaking to settle. He seemed to be fighting with himself, then shook his head. "Well then, you will have to forgive me for this." He put an arm around Draco's middle and one under his legs and in a shocking display of strength, pulled him up. Then Potter paused in even more shock than Draco. "Wow, you weight absolutely nothing." He sounded alarmed. "Is that how you managed to survive the Inferi? By being too weak to reach the water?" Was that a joke? A pretty dark one, even for Draco's standard.

The way Potter talked sounded like he'd been to the cave himself. When had that happened? Why had Draco never heard of it?

Draco didn't pose the question and he didn't confess to him starving himself. It would only lead to more questions. Besides, Potter already knew enough. Harry cursed under his breath. He then carried Draco to the shelf where Draco pulled out the book with unsteady hands. It nearly fell from his grasp, but he managed to hold on to it. Suddenly, Draco understood why the book had signs of water damage. He felt sick as he realised just when Regulus must have lost it, or when he'd given it to Kreacher.

Shortly after that thought finished in his mind, Potter brought him back to bed. Draco was laid down, breathing too hard to move by himself. He almost lost consciousness from the energy it took to stay awake. Harry opened the book for him and let Draco show him what page he meant. Then Potter nodded, pleased by what he saw and gave it to Sirius. Sirius took it with confusion and moderate alarm.

Harry sat back down next to Draco to tend to him. This time, he grabbed one of Draco's hands and rubbed soothing circles into his skin. "Voldemort has split his soul into eight parts. Horkruxes. While they are active, Voldemort is nearly immortal. I was one of them." It took Draco a moment to understand that Potter was explaining this to the room, not to Draco.

Ron and Sirius snapped their eyes to Harry. Ginevra's glance had never left.

"When Voldemort killed me, he killed the Horkrux, not me. Malfoy knew that this would happen, that it NEEDED to happen. He knew I would live because we won in the future. He didn't join Voldemort. He distracted him, so he wouldn't know I was still alive. And, apparently, to find out more about the Horkruxes. He knew, that's why he didn't panic in the ministry. That's why he knew what to do."

"How can you be so sure?," asked Ron madly. And Draco agreed. He'd definitely panicked at the ministry. "How can you be sure he didn't use your stupid self sacrificing habit to lure you into his trap? That's what he said, isn't it? That was his plan! Sirius was there, he told us! If he truly knew you'd survive the first killing curse, he'd simply have killed you twice!"

Harry shook his head. "Then why would he tell Voldemort I was dead when he knew I was alive?"

The words hung heavy between the two old friends. "He did?," Ronald asked in quiet disbelief.

"He told me to stay dead," Harry explained. "I was confused. I had just died, but I had also just been working, and suddenly I was at the ministry, as if I'd simply woken up there and he was far too young to be the Draco I knew, and yet he was the exact same age he'd been ten minutes ago when he fought Bellatrix. I think my death called my older self back to this moment. At the time, I wasn't sure what was going on, but when he told me to stay dead, I could tell it was important, so I did. This wasn't the first time I had to do it. And when I heard Voldemort's voice, I think I pieced it all together."

Again, there was silence between them.

"Why the hell didn't you tell us that earlier?"

"Because if anyone found out that Draco protected me, if anyone would even so much as sympathise with him or slip up about me being alive, then HE'D be dead, Ron. He lied to Voldemort about my death and then went WITH HIM. He could have died, or worse, been tortured to death.", he looked at Draco in pain. "He almost was." Potter stressed those words, making everyone in the room look somewhat pained. Potter grimaced, then shook his head.

After a moment of heavy silence, Draco gathered some of his wits back. His eyes widened momentarily. "Did you just say eight parts?" His heart beat doubled. Eight. Eight? That's how many... Merlin, he had been searching for this information so desperately. But then... that meant they almost had all of them! He hiccupped a laugh. "We got four destroyed!"

Potter gave him a weak smile. "Tom Riddle's diary, Vorlost's ring, Slazar's locket, Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's cup, the snake, me and Voldemort himself." Harry listed calmly. "Not four. Five. Dumbledore found the ring. I stopped him from getting himself cursed this time though. He's not going to die this time." Potter made a face like he was somehow annoyed with Dumbledore.

Draco smiled. Then his face faltered and he tried to get up. "What?"

"Oh right, you wouldn't know." Potter sounded serious this time. "When Voldemort ordered you to kill Dumbledore, Dumbledore was already on his deathbed. The ring gave him about a year left to live. That's why he told Snape to kill him in your stead. And that's why it was so easy for Snape to make the swear to your mother."

Draco's eyes snapped up. "Severus! Did you tell him? I- I slipped up. I had to prove to Voldemort-"

"It's alright." Harry forced him back against the headboard. "I know, I informed Dumbledore and I'm sure he told him."

"What about the cup, I -"

"Don't worry, I know where it is," Harry said and gave Draco a look that said 'if you're not going to rest, I'll bloody petrify you'. "Though it might be difficult to get it. It's in Gringotts, in Bellatrix' vaults."

Draco could cry. "No. No. McGonagall has it!"

Harry's hand flinched away from him. "McGonagall?"

Draco swallowed and nodded urgently. "Yeah. That's why Voldemort took me to the cave. I ... I made a mistake. I stole Bella's wand and then the cup. He found out through the trace." Draco gestured towards Bellatrix wand. "I brought the cup to Hogwarts, but McGonagall thought I wanted to curse Dumbledore. She has it. But I don't know for how long." Dumbledore. The tower. Draco flinched and put another hand to his forehead. He hoped that this would stop soon, it really pulled him out of the conversation when it happened.

Harry brushed a hair from Draco's face and Draco stilled.

"You really had to go and do it all by yourself, huh?" He had an awfully fond look in his eyes. It told Draco to lean back down and sleep. It told Draco that everything would be fine. That thought was dangerous, Draco wasn't supposed to sleep until he could be sure that the cup would be destroyed.

The others were still watching. Stuck switching between the book and Draco, Sirius eventually cleared his throat. "This could be a ruse. He could still pretend he's our spy. He was with Voldemort! Who knows how much of that is just part of his plan?" He sounded more honest and curious than Ronald had before.

Harry finally turned to his uncle, a conflicted expression on his face. "For one, he brought us three Horkruxes, Sirius. He's nearly dying in this bed. And you of all people should be thankful! He saved your life. Do I need to say more?"

Sirius blinked and clapped the book shut. "What are you talking about? When did he save my life!?"

Harry balled his hand to a fist and took a deep shuddering breath. "You were meant to die at the ministry, Sirius."

Sirius blinked, as if the idea that he could have died there had never occurred to him.

"You were fighting Bellatrix, she hit you with a spell and you fell through the veil on that podium. We didn't even have a corpse to bury. Now you're alive and free and -" Potter wiped at his eye, clearly taken in by his own emotions as well. "And Remus lives and Dumbledore is alive and Fred too and-" He buried his face in his hands. He turned back to Draco. "Thank you," he whispered and that might explain the affection in his voice.

Draco stared at him. "I owe you."

Harry shook his head and squeezed Draco's hand. "You've been through nothing but torture, Draco. We were even when you saved my life at the manor. Even then, I knew what Voldemort was putting you through. Without you, I'd never have won against him. I know what you did. I know you killed Fudge, but I know you. You didn't do that for fun. I'm pretty sure it killed you to do it." He paused, mouth shaping into a wide 'o'. "Oh," he said as if suddenly understanding. "You were stalling time to get the cup. You brilliant fool! I am so so sorry. And thank you. And- Gosh, you put your entire family at risk to save each of us." That was horror in his voice.

Draco tried a smile. "Only my mother. I made sure my father is safe in Azkaban... For now."

Harry nodded tearfully. Then he grabbed Draco's hand with both hands. "I mean it, Draco. What you've done is massive. In both lifetimes."

Sirius suddenly spoke up again. "Wait a second. Does that mean my brother betrayed Voldemort?" Ron turned to him with an open mouth.

Harry confirmed it with a nod.

"That little -" Sirius turned away, a smile twitching on his face, even as he wiped off a stray tear. "I've got to tell Moony!"

Potter didn't allow Sirius the time to be astonished for long. "Sirius, can you do me a favour? Send McGonagall a message. The cup Draco brought her has to be taken to Dumbledore's office, immediately."

Sirius nodded and dropped the book in Ginevra's unsuspecting arms, then left the room to do as instructed. Not without shouting for this Moony person that Draco's mind connected only very, very slowly to Remus Lupin. He'd heard Sirius call him that once or twice the last time he'd been around. Enough to recognise it, but only vaguely.

Then, finally, Ginevra spoke up, much calmer than Ronald and Sirius had been. "You have no idea how much it cost us to pretend Harry was dead. Dumbledore threatened so many ministers, I've never seen him so angry." A part of her must be smug at this revelation. Draco envied her a bit for getting to see it.

Draco couldn't help but smile. He covered it underneath his hand, all too aware that he didn't deserve this flicker of happiness. His words were once again directed at Harry. "Typical. There I try to save you ONE time and you have to one up me again." He should have known. He should have known it wasn't reasonable that the prophet kept quiet about Potter's heroic immortality. Harry shrugged with a smile. Draco's own fell. "You died for me," he said angrily. "You fucking moron, don't you ever do that again. You're lucky I knew you'd live, otherwise I'd have killed you myself."

Harry laughed. "Let's just say we're even?" Daco opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't find the words. Potter put his hand to Draco's mouth to shush him. "Rest, idiot."

Draco nodded. An instant feeling of tiredness overcame him. Suddenly, the order was easy to follow. His left arm was burning but it was drowned out by the feeling of Harry's hand on his. Before he knew it, Draco's eyes fell shut and he fell into a deep slumber. The last thing he saw was Ginevra's little sigh before she turned on her heels and left into the hallway, followed by her brother.

When Draco woke up the next time, he did with a scream. There was fire everywhere. Flames, smoke, no air. It was burning hot against his skin. He grabbed his left arm and uncovered it. It hadn't stopped yet. Draco doubted it would anytime soon.

The mark.

Draco stared at it. His mind was swimming as he took heaving breaths. He couldn't think. He must be sick. He must be having a fever. This was a nightmare, the world was swimming, he could hear laughter in his head. His stomach churned.

He dry heaved over the edge of the bed.

Nothing came out. He was too empty inside to produce anything but spit. Once he calmed down, he took the glass of water from the nightstand and drank it. And, to his biggest joy, it didn't disappear. It was cool against his dry throat. He drank so fast he nearly choked on it, then puked it all out and then drank some more. Someone had left him an entire bottle of the sweet stuff. He wanted to kiss whoever that was. Or better not, his mouth tasted of bile.

When his senses somewhat normalised, he noted that he was alone. The room was dark and unlit. Someone had pulled the curtains in front of the window and everything was lulled in shadow. Only some light from the floor flooded into his room. Someone had left the door open a gap. Wobbily, Draco tried to get up. It took him a while to find his balance, but when he did, he checked the curtains and noticed that it was late afternoon. Well, he had returned in the early morning, it wasn't all that surprising, to be honest.

Slowly, he tried to walk in a straight line and then understood that crawling was the better option at the moment. He hadn't survived the past month just to split his head open on the wooden floor. He took it slow. He felt cold and hot at the same time but he needed more water, since the bottle was now empty. And perhaps eating like... half an apple was a good start to make him a bit less of a corpse. He had to pause about a dozen times before he reached the stairs. It was like he had to drag his entire bodyweight there. He looked down into the hallway and never before had it felt so appealing to just roll down the entire way. He'd most likely die if he did, but damn those were a lot of stairs.

"Malfoy!"

Draco flinched as someone called his name. He turned around to look at Ronald Weasley. He looked tall, from down here. His red hair was ruffled and his glare seemed almost threatening. "What the hell are you doing?" He pulled out his wand. "Get back in your room!" He seemed hesitant, still. As if unsure whether or not to trust him yet. Draco tried to pull himself up against the stair reeling. He didn't want Ron to look down on him. Ron's glare intensified. "Harry may trust you because of what you claim to have done, but that doesn't mean you can just walk around like -" Ronald blinked.

Draco was swaying bravely. He was likely to fall down the stairs if he continued like this. But if Ron wanted to fight him, he at least wanted to face him properly. Even if he didn't have a wand on him.

"What is wrong with you?" Ronald lowered his wand.

It was that moment that Draco understood what Ronald was doing. The boy was trusting Potter, but he still wanted to be completely certain. And Draco thought it was reasonable to still be doubtful. Draco had proven that he wasn't above murder, he hadn't explained how he had gotten to the past and he also had a year of preparation for who knew what that Potter simply didn't have. Draco COULD be playing them all for some strange game he'd discussed with Voldemort. Be a spy, like Snape. Draco decided then that he liked Ronald even better than before. At least one of the Golden Trio had some common sense.

Draco blinked a few too many times. His vision wouldn't clear. It was like the room was tilting. Or he was moving his head too fast. He couldn't focus on anything. "I just need more water," he said. "The trace." He would have magicked himself some water, if he could have. But wow, speaking was nearly impossible suddenly. Crawling here felt like climbing a mountain and then being told it was the wrong one. Talking felt like he was close to vomiting again. Draco gestured weakly. "Can't use magic or else they find us."

"The ministry?"

"Voldemort," Draco blinked. "In the ministry." Did that make sense? "Both- yes."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Because you helped them undermine the ministry." He crossed his arms. "Even if you did find these... Horkruxes, you still helped them take control there. You could have just left the manor if you're so good at fooling Voldemort. But no, you decided it was smarter to stay and murder people."

Draco grimaced. The headache was turning into a migraine and the sparse light from the lamp above him flickered in the darkness, messing with his eyes. Maybe standing was a bad idea after all. He sank back down on the floor and leaned his head against the cool wood behind him in order to breathe. Then he closed his eyes. He needed to rest for a moment before his brain could catch up to the accusation.

Whether or not Ron said anything else, Draco could only hear his own breathing and the pounding in his head.

When he opened his eyes again, Harry Potter was once again leaning over him. Draco had the vague sense that Neville would make fun of him if he saw him now, but Neville was not here. And Draco didn't know why he thought about it. Perhaps it was part of a joke that his mind didn't bother finishing.

"Draco, can you hear me?"

"I have no idea what happened, Harry. He was acting weird when I found him," said Ronald, his voice close to panic. Had Draco passed out? "I didn't do anything." That, Draco thought, was true.

"He is WEAK, Ron. The stuff he drank in the cave takes all your energy. It makes you relive the worst of your memories. In our time, it was Dumbledore who drank it. He died the same night. I have no idea how bad it will be on Draco. Or how long it will last. He's been through so much already."

"Ha," Draco grinned. "You sound worried, Potter."

"I AM worried. I have no idea if you can even recover from that stuff." Harry put an arm under Draco's neck, then the other under his knees and picked him up once again. "I'll get you back to bed."

"I need... water." Draco said. "It doesn't disappear anymore."

Potter sighed with relief. "But you need to eat, too, Draco. You're not dead yet, but you look like you're close."

Draco giggled manically. "I'm not that lucky."

Instead of the kitchen, Harry brought him back to Regulus' room. There, he grimaced at the smell. Draco felt a hint of embarrassment as he remembered that he had actually vomited on the floor. "Kreacher," Potter said gently and look and behold, the houseelf appeared. "I'm very sorry, but could you clean that up?" Draco could only wonder since when Potter and Kreacher were buddies.

Kreacher too, grimaced at the state of the room. Draco hadn't even realised how bad it was smelling in there. It smelled of sweat and bile and like the oxygen was completely gone from the room. Kreacher put himself to work. In a matter of seconds, the bed had been remade with fresh linen and the vomit was gone and the window opened to freshen the air. "I'll make master Draco something light to eat," Kreacher said and bowed to both of them.

"He's a right dear, isn't he?," Draco said and giggled again. Damn, he was so out of it. An image flashed in his mind. Of Dobby disappearing into thin air, along with Bella's knife. Draco groaned. Later he had learned that Dobby had died that day. Random tears gathered in Draco's eyes. Dobby may have been just a houseelf and Draco had never treated him right, but he had been silent company when Draco had been alone in his self doubts as a kid. He was the only one who told Draco that he would be fine. That his decisions mattered. Draco had thrown shoes at him but it had mattered to him anyway. Perhaps, knowing that Dobby had died for Harry just intensified that memory. Made it more real than what Draco had believed as a child.

"He is," Harry said and put him down. "You should take a bath too. But only after you've eaten."

Ronald walked in behind them. "You think he can bath without drowning himself?"

Harry paused, honestly considering that. "If all else fails, I'll help him."

Ron turned his head slowly to him. "You will?" From his mouth, it sounded like a threat.

Harry rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Ron, don't make it weird."

"I'm not. You're the one who said you'll bath him!"

Harry sighed again, just deeper. "He can't even stand, Ron. And he's sweating through his shirt. I won't let him freeze to death."

"I'm still not sure if he's really on our side, or just fooling us." Ron countered.

Harry sat back down next to Draco who tried to raise himself up, but Harry pressed him back down. "You, Sir, are staying in bed. Ron -" Harry sighed. "I'd use magic for this, if I could. But if the trace works on Draco, then it also works on me."

"Just ask Sirius."

Harry glared at him. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that Sirius is alive. But I won't let him alone with Draco where he could water board him. Let alone with a wand. No. End of discussion."

Ron huffed, and muffled something along the lines of "he'd never do that."

"What a noble sacrifice. Are you also going to help me use the toilet, too?" Draco muttered.

Harry stared him down. "Yes, Draco. I am a husband with a pregnant wife and a one year old child. I helped during and after the birth. I will make sure you don't have to sleep in your own shit."

"You're such a charmer," Draco said and suddenly felt sick again. Ginevra was pregnant again?

"Hold on... You're a FATHER? You have a CHILD?" Ron threw in in shock.

Draco scowled. "So do I," he said. One, on the way, but still. Oh wait, he'd been here so long, the child must have already been born. Draco grimaced. Poor Astoria. That child would likely have to go to Hogwarts with Potter's child then. Were rivalries inheritable?

"Yes, yes, I know. But that's different. You don't even love her," said Ron and hit Draco even harder with that comment. "Who is it? Who did you marry?," he directed the question back at Potter.

Harry smiled. "No, Ron. Don't -" It was a sad smile. "They... I need some time, alright?"

Draco looked away. Somehow he felt humiliated. He hadn't a full minute ago but he knew why he did now, and it was quite pathetic. Thankfully, it was that moment that Kreacher chose to walk in with some light snacks. It was just some toast with butter and jelly and some fruits on the side. Draco would have preferred a soup, but he thanked the elf anyway. To think he couldn't even hold the plate without shaking- that was probably the reason. He still managed to slap Potter's hand away as he attempted to feed him though. Draco glared at him.
Harry needed to stop worrying, or else Draco would go back to antagonise him again. 'Heard that, Voldemort? I call dibs on the worst nemesis title!,' he sillily thought.

The toast tasted like ash in his mouth and he needed a full minute to get down the first bite. After that, he felt like he had run a marathon. How come that breathing got harder with every bite? His stomach protested. He felt awful.

"Like... just as a hypothesis -," Ron said finally. "what if this is an elaborate plan just to spy on us again? It worked well for him last time around."

Harry turned back to him. "I understand why you would think that. But to me, it couldn't be more obvious. He was the one who taught me occlumency in this life and he did it much better than Snape ever did! He's the one who told me NOT to go to the ministry. He has kept the Horkrux theory from me to fool Voldemort. He jumped between Sirius and Bellatrix to save his life! He petrified his own father to protect him from Voldemort. He brought us the CUP and two other Horkruxes that took us over a year to get last time! I can't imagine him being on Voldemort's side."

"He also used unforgivable curses."

"As did I," Harry countered calmly. "The imperius, the crucio. I've used them both, because in war we don't always have a choice. At the ministry, I was the one who jumped in front of Voldemort's spell to protect him! When he checked on me if I was alive -"

"He also used the Avada," Ron finished.

"That's..." Potter broke off. "Still different." He finished lamely. The comment ticked Draco off a bit. HOW was that different?

"And he took the mark. Just pointing that out," Ron said weakly, as if Potter's explanation still sounded reasonable enough to him. What a beautiful friendship they had, Draco couldn't relate.

Potter sighed. "I saw it, Ron. Through Voldemort's eyes, that first time he got it. You have no idea what the Death Eater's did to him in their own home. He went BACK to that, Ron! To protect me." Harry's voice cracked a little as he faced Ron like he would a judge. "In our time, when we -you, Hermione and I- were caught on our search after the Horkruxes and brought to the manor, he was faced with the choice on whether to report me to Voldemort and save his family from torture, or getting me killed. He did neither. Instead of saying I wasn't me, which would have made me a low priority and gotten me killed, or ratting me out which would have ended in me facing Voldemort in his home, he gave me time."

"Alright, Harry. Point taken." Ron exhaled. "He's innocent and pure and all that jazz."

"I'm not pure. I killed people," Draco said weakly. And the situation at the manor hadn't been as conscious as Potter made it out to be. Draco had simply not known how to condemn Potter. He had simply known two of his options and hated both of their outcomes. One had been lying to Voldemort, killing Potter against Voldemort's orders and living with the consequences, the other had been ratting Potter out and dooming all of the wizarding world for good, Draco's personal feelings aside. The rest had been beyond his imagination.

"I know," Harry said and looked apologetic, the twat. "You won't have to do that again."

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Potter."

"What's with the Potter again?"

Was Potter not hearing himself? "You're treating me like an imbecile! Could you like... stop that?" Draco wished he had more strength to snarl at Potter.

Harry sighed, but he seemed to realise how those words must come across to Draco. Draco didn't like to be pitied and he had gathered enough strength to be embarrassed by how he'd behaved the moment he'd recognised his old fiend. Draco glared at him. His mood hadn't been very good from the beginning and now he lay in his bed and had to listen Potter wax poetry over his stupidity.

"Sorry. I don't mean to be so overprotective. It's just that I know everything and -"

Draco was tired. He couldn't keep clinging to Potter. He needed to remind the man why they didn't talk in the future. "That's the problem, Potter. You always know everything and want to help. Because of your shitty hero complex. You're not my nurse or... my mother. And stop looking at me like that!"

Harry blinked. He was about to say something but apparently thought better of it. Then he looked down and sighed deeply. He had clearly expected no less.

Ron was fuming. "He's HELPING you! The hell, Malfoy! You should thank him that we're keeping you alive, we should -"

"No, Ron. It's fine," Harry made him stop. "I can't help it, Draco. Out of all of us, you've had the worst luck. After the war, you completely disappeared. You locked yourself away in your house, you didn't even LIVE with your wife, despite the fact that she was -"

"It was her decision. She didn't want me to drag her down."

"That's the POINT, Draco. You've been all on your own and never showed your face. You didn't come to my wedding. You invited no one to yours. You worked as a therapist for muggles. Not exactly what one would expect from a Malfoy."

"He worked as a what?"

"You were withering away. You wouldn't allow visitors. And now I have memories of you repeating our fifth year beginning with a panic attack. I remember you drinking poison. I see you fail to do a patronus in a lit room full of your friends and dozens of tangible joy, and your boggart, your worst fear ends up being YOURSELF! I know we weren't friends in our last life. But I believed we sort of became that in this one. We even saved each other's lives. Again. I care about you, Draco. I'd never want you hurting like that."

Draco looked away. He did feel guilty for lashing out like that, but he had to. He simply had to.

Harry sighed. "You know I don't pity you." It sounded like a fact. His voice was somewhat colder, though. "Shit happened to all of us. I care about you. I admire what you did. I want to help you because I know you'd do the same for me. The one who is pitying you is you."

Draco still didn't look at him. He felt so tired. Potter was right, of course, but it still felt like pity.

"What I mean is, you're allowed to accept help." Potter once again rested a heavy hand on Draco's shoulder. "Especially when you're feeling weak. Me offering it to you doesn't mean I'm better than you or anything. It just means I am currently strong enough to offer it to you. I've always had help myself. The people that help us ARE our strength, Draco. I trusted you when I woke up in that ministry. Please, trust me now. You can hate me again, when you're back at full strength. I won't complain if you keep calling me Potter, either. Just... let me help you, please."

Draco sighed. "Fine." How did Harry manage to sound so desperate during that offer? "I'll allow it. But you won't bath me!"

Harry's smile bore relief. "Only if you don't drown yourself."

Draco was about to counter that, when he realised he couldn't promise such a thing. He didn't have to though.

"We'll find out a way around it," Harry assured him, although Draco got the feeling that it was a lie. "Now eat. You've had what? Two bites?"

Draco deflated. "I really can't do more."

Harry sighed and helped Draco against his protests. Meaning, he more of less pushed the toast in Draco's mouth. If this continued, his metabolism would burn more of the food through arguing than actual eating.

Ron eventually got up and left the room. Harry remained and continued to tease Draco. Because in a way, it was easier to deal with someone who didn't take him seriously than someone who worried as much as Potter obviously still did. Draco wanted to keep seeing it as pity. But the subtle grateful smiles told him otherwise. Perhaps, at the end of the day, Potter really did care.

Draco would love to say that it never came to Potter bathing him.

But when Draco woke up again, later that afternoon, he was sweating bullets from his latest nightmare. And with the image of dying people went what little strength that the toast had given him. He couldn't move a muscle, if he still had any, that is. He felt cold. Ice cold. The sheets were damp from his sweat. The only good News was that his headache had somehow receded. He was shaking all over despite the fact that someone had covered him with an additional blanket. The curtains were open a fraction and Draco felt blinded by the afternoon sun.

Harry had told him to call if he needed anything. He apparently convinced Sirius to take the bedroom next to Regulus' one, which had belonged to Sirius' mother, so that someone would hear him if he screamed. Kreacher had been somewhat delighted for some reason. Draco felt that this was a joke he didn't want to play into. Anyway, Draco didn't feel strong enough to call. He closed his eyes again and tried to drift off. It was a half hearted attempt. His body was still shaking and sweating and the mark was occasionally reminding him of his mother. Who was now alone with Voldemort. Whom her son had betrayed.

Draco kept himself calm by reminding himself that if his mother had been tortured, he wouldn't feel it through the mark. After all, Narzissa Malfoy had never taken the mark. It had been enough that her husband was loyal to a fault, so Voldemort had never pressed.

With the setting sun, Kreacher came into the room, looking quite worried. "Master Draco," he began and bowed to him. "You're awake."

Draco sent him a smile. "Yes. Thank you for getting me out of there, by the way." Draco had been shivering from the cold for quite a while now but he still wanted to convey his gratitude first.

The houseelf teared up. "Master Draco is just like Master Regulus."

Except still alive. "That means a lot, coming from you." Draco muttered and closed his eyes again. It did. Kreacher had loved Regulus. Deemed him the best master he's ever had. And Regulus had redeemed himself. Draco wasn't sure if the same could be said about him, but he liked to think that it counted for something.

"Would Master Malfoy want anything to eat?"

"I would like some... broth? That's what sick people eat, right?" He looked questioningly at Kreacher. The houseelf nodded.

"Of course, master Draco."

"Thank you."

When Kreacher walked out, he sounded as if he had just gotten something heavy off his chest. Then he muttered words that Draco wasn't supposed to hear. "Kreacher must tell master Harry that master Draco is awake. Master Harry is always so worried. I must make them a feast."

He was too far gone for Draco to tell him not to call Harry. Under no circumstances did Draco want Potter's attention right now!

About ten minutes later, the bloody chosen one walked into the room without even knocking. "Draco, you're awake."

Draco sighed. "Why do you sound surprised? I know that Kreacher told you."

Harry nodded, but there seemed to be something in his eyes that looked almost pained. Harry came closer and put a hand on Draco's forehead. "You have a fever," he said simply.

Draco winced. "Nonsense. I'm just cold."

"You're burning up. And you're sweating. AND you look half dead."

"When do I not?"

Harry chuckled nervously and without any hint of actual amusement. "True. But not like this. I'm really sorry, Draco, but you do need a bath. You reek."

"You are so charming, Potter."

Harry's smile turned a tad more real. "Come on, get up, Draco. I'll pour you a bath. Do you prefer it hot or mild. I can't do cold, not when you have a fever like that."

Draco frowned. "Hot." Draco wondered for a second if the fact that Draco only had the choice between two temperatures was a trick to make him forget that he didn't want to take a bath in the first place. Wasn't this some kind of psychological trick that caretakers used for children?

"I see," Harry said. Then he pulled down Draco's covers. An instant breeze made Draco shiver in his damp clothes. "Come on, get up."

Draco pushed himself up, pausing half way as he realised his body wasn't going to follow through. "Wait a second," he said and heaved, as he managed to sit up and felt the floor spinning already. He was just sitting, damn it! It couldn't seriously be THAT bad!

"Draco?" Harry bent over to look Draco in the eyes. "If you need help, just ask."

Draco glared at him. The day had yet to arrive in which Draco Lucius Malfoy would ask Harry Potter for a favour. "I don't need help." That at least, made him try. So he got to his feet and felt a repeat of the previous day approaching. Everything was spinning and sitting on the floor suddenly became a lot more appealing. It must have been visible, because Potter was by his side in a second.

Harry didn't comment. He put an arm around Draco's middle and helped him walk towards the bathroom on the top floor. He didn't pick him up this time, which Draco was more than grateful for. Every floor had its own bathroom because Merlin beware that a Black had to walk stairs to find a toilet. This one had a grand bath tub as well. Harry helped Draco sit down on the closed toilet seat and gestured for him to stay there while he opened the tab to pour steaming water into the clean tub. Kreacher truly had cleaned everything in here. The tiles were shining with an unnatural glow.

Draco blinked. "Oh. I don't have any clothes here," he noticed, as his mind drifted ahead to what to do with his sweat soaked laundry. If he had to be naked, he didn't want to extend the moment for longer than necessary.

Harry didn't even look at him. "I can lend you some. Well, except pants perhaps, your legs are longer than mine. I'll ask Sirius for some. Or Ron." Draco was, in fact, also half a head taller than Potter.

"I could take some of Regulus' stuff." Draco replied weakly.

"Probably not. Sirius threw them away - must have been last summer. Like he did with all the things that weren't glued to the wall... or shelves. Besides, Regulus doesn't look all that tall on the photos." The sound of water splashing distracted Draco for a moment. Potter left the room for only a couple of minutes and came back with fresh towels and a bathrobe that he put helplessly on the sink, since the toilet was currently occupied by a waiting Draco and he had nowhere else to put them. "Alright, that should be all you need."

"I hope so." Draco said, finding Harry quite reasonable for once. Maybe his head was just toon tired to argue. Wow, he must be really sick. Harry granted him a worried look that supported Draco's fear.

Once the tub was filled and scented with loads of soaps, Harry walked over to him again. "Come on, let's get you out of those clothes."

Draco stared up at him. "What?"

Harry paused. "You didn't think you were going to bath in your clothes, did you?"

"That's not it. I just wasn't expecting you to undress me," Draco retorted. Draco knew he was too weak to fight Potter on this. The thing was, Draco knew Potter would be sensible. Draco trusted Harry with his life. Heck, he'd let him kill him if he wanted to. That didn't mean that Draco wasn't alarmed right now.

Harry flushed a little but corrected the position of his glasses. "I wouldn't have to if you could stand on your own."

"So, you're saying it's my fault that I almost died." Draco felt weirdly calm, despite the situation. Perhaps he really was too tired to argue. This didn't feel all that intimate, to be honest. It felt weirdly... professional, in a way. Potter acted like a nurse. And though this was a bit domestic, given the fact that Potter compared this with treating his wife during pregnancy, it lacked the tension that Draco would have expected under different circumstances. Potter kept looking more and more confused and worried and Draco wanted him to stop being so goddamn considerate. "Alright. Forget it. Just... do your thing, I guess."

For once, Harry didn't make fun of him as he helped Draco out of his shirt, socks and eventually pants. Then he helped Draco get into the bath without slipping on the wet tiles. The water felt hot against Draco's skin as he sank into it down to his chin. The heat immediately burned into Draco's skin, colouring him in a healthy reddish tone. Harry had his sleeves pulled up, as he got them a bottle of shampoo and soap.

"Hehe," Harry laughed a little, distracting them both from the awkwardness of the situation. At least he had locked the door. The last thing Draco needed was for Ronald to come in and give them even more comments. "I think Ginny forgot her shampoo here. She always uses this brand."

Draco took a quick glance at the bottle. "Hmm? Could be mine. I think I forgot mine when we went back to Hogwarts after Christmas."

Harry side glanced him, his head titled curiously. "Sounds about right. Your hair always smelled just as flowery as hers did..." He weirdly focused back on the bottle for a long moment. For a moment it seemed like a had a realisation. What he could be realising from a bottle of shampoo, pray tell, Draco had no idea. Then Potter put it aside. "Come on, you have to wash your hair too."

Draco grumbled, but eventually let Harry push his head under water. Just a quick dib, then he pulled him back up. While Draco washed his face that burned against the hot temperature of the water, Harry began soaping up his hair. Draco had to cover his eyes to protect them. "You really don't have to use so much. My hair is shorter than your wife's," Draco reminded him.

Harry sighed. "Right. Sorry."

Draco hummed, his eyes closed as Harry worked the shampoo into his scalp. It was soothing, in a way. Eventually, Harry helped him wash the soap out of his hair and then went to wash his back for him. Draco felt too tired to think much of it. What he did notice though, was that Harry seemed to be almost in his element. "You know... for someone who did this a couple days for his wife, you're quite skilled."

Harry paused. "Well... To be honest, she's not the only one I did it for."

Draco nodded. "Had to treat some family members? Did I miss anything?" When exactly had Potter turned back in time? In the future, he meant. At the same time as Draco did? After?

Harry didn't make a move for a second, then sighed. "You didn't exactly disappear, Draco."

"Hmm?," Draco had his eyed closed. It was so comfortably warm in here. Sleep already knocked on his consciousness again.

"No." Harry shook his head and leaned his arms over the bath tub to look Draco in the eyes. "I got a call, one day. From one Sarah Wilburth. You gave her my number in case of emergencies."

Draco blinked. "Oh. Yeah. That. Hermione gave me your number after my trial. And my parents refused to get a muggle phone, I didn't know who else to put as my emergency contact. I didn't think it was important-" 'Or needed,' he didn't say.

"That's not the point, Draco. You collapsed during work! She said she was worried about you for months. Because you worked too much and she babbled on about you having been depressed for a while. She said you were taking Antidepressants and she was worried you had taken too many."

Draco blinked. "That's not true. I took potions, not -"

"You. COLLAPSED! during work, Draco." Harry's gaze somewhat intensified, though his glasses were misty from the steam. "We brought you to St. Mungo's first. They gave you something but you wouldn't wake up. They had never seen something like that. They have potions that force people awake. There have been like... five patients in total who ever fell into a coma like you did where the potions didn't work. And those people died before they could figure out what was wrong with them. St. Mungo's doesn't really do with IVs and heart monitors and scans and all that. They just experiment to figure out what's wrong with you or assume you're as good as dead. So we brought you to a muggle hospital to keep you alive. But since they wouldn't notice magical anamolies in their instruments, I became a nurse to watch over you. You know... your studies about magical medicine not taking mental health into account became a giant hit over the past year."

Draco stared at him. 'A year, then. Wait a second!' "WHAT?!"

Potter grinned, looking strangely proud and completely misunderstanding the question. "Hermione found your work. She even started opening a whole ministry department for the research of mental health for wizards after she read it. You made her cry." Harry paused. "I suspect that's because you used proper citations or something."

That... did sound like Granger.

"That's not what I-," Draco paused. "You're an auror, with a pregnant wife and a child! When on EARTH did you find the time to play nurse?" Most importantly, WHY?

Harry stared at him. "I kind of... quit?" When he saw Draco's horrified expression, he backtracked. "Only temporarily! I did it to take care of you! Muggle nurses wouldn't know how to identify a magical illness or curse. Someone had to keep doing research on that while having an eye on you. And there are more than enough aurors but not many who would help an ex Death Eater. Also, I'm friends with the minister of magic. Hermione would always take me back. Not to mention I defeated the most powerful evil sorcerer who ever lived. I have like... the best credentials there are."

Draco stared at him while his mind felt like cotton. 'Potter quit his job to be my nurse???????' "What the hell, Potter."

Potter opened his mouth, then closed it. "Come on, we've got to have you completely cleaned up."

"How DO you bath someone who's unconscious?" Draco asked, thinking of all the ways a body can just drown in a bathtub. He'd say magic, but he doubted that Potter would do that in a muggle hospital.

Harry helped him wash his legs and then feet, though Draco felt a bit awkward during that procedure. Actually, he felt incredibly strange during the entire ordeal.

"It's like a lift. But it's not as efficient or comfortable as you may think. I'm not a fan."

"I see," Draco said and was thankfully allowed to clean his private parts by himself. Harry even looked away as if he hadn't just admitted to having seen it all. Draco didn't want to think further about the implications.

After the bath, Draco felt more tired than before. The talking had somewhat distracted him, and the heat had been soothing, but now that he was meant to leave the bath, he'd rather sleep in here. Harry naturally didn't let him. He grabbed the towels from the sink and put one of them on Draco's head, to dry his hair and face. Then he let the water down through the drain. Eventually, he helped Draco out of the tub and covered him in the biggest towel Draco had ever seen. In the end, Harry had somehow miracled a bathrobe from nowhere (without magic) and entangled Draco in the sleeves.

"Well then, let's get you back to bed," said Harry softly, instead of giving him any clothes, and once again helped Draco back into Regulus' room. Again, the room had been magically cleaned and the bed been made. On the nightstand waited Draco's warm breakfast: A bowl of broth. Harry helped Draco on the bed and pushed a table closer, so Draco could properly sit up to eat. Apparently Kreacher had also brought some tea and a cut apple. Draco did like apples. Apples were good.

"I'll go and get you some clothes."

"Whose bathrobe is this?" Draco asked, feeling oddly comfortable in the robes. There was something of the washing powder, Draco thought, that soothed him.

"Mine," Harry said.

"It's green."

"Mrs. Weasley says, green brings out my eyes."

So Mrs. Weasley made it then. "She's not wrong." Draco muttered and tried to eat. At least he wasn't freezing anymore. "Would have fit better with the Slytherin tie, too." That made Draco nostalgic. When he was a kid, knowing he'd one day go to Hogwarts with Harry Potter, he'd imagined Potter would come to Slytherin with him. After all, his father had told him that they were the same age. It was the main reason why Draco had refused to go to Durmstrang at the time, when his father had wanted to send him there initially. Thankfully, his mother had been on his side. But whenever Draco had painted himself this picture, Lucius had already killed that hope by reminding him that the Potter's were a Gryffindor family. Draco had been so mad about that answer, that for over the span of a week he'd threatened his father that he would never talk to him again if Lucius didn't talk to the headmaster about it. Draco grinned at the memory.

"Maybe." Harry paused with a soft smile of his own. He hesitated then. "You know, the sorting hat did try to put me into Slytherin."

There was a beat in which Draco thought he had imagined the words. Wrote them off to his returning auditive hallucinations. Then he realised that this was one of those thoughts that didn't quite fit the nightmare aesthetic his usual hallucinations had going on. Draco looked up in surprise. "What?"

"I know, you can't imagine that. You're like THE Slytherin -"

"No. YOU'RE a true Gryffindor! You pulled out the sword from the sorting hat! What was that hat thinking?"

Harry laughed. "You know, being a Slytherin wouldn't have been so bad. Maybe we'd even have become friends. Well... if you hadn't been such a twat."

"Fair." Draco thought back on the day he met Harry in Madame Malkin's. His emotions, unreliable and uncontrollable as they had been since his return made tears dwell up in his eyes. "Wait. Then how did you get into Gryffindor?," he asked quickly, attempting to regain some sense of control over the situation.

Harry shrugged. "The hat takes your choices into account."

Draco's eyes widened. "Hold on... Am I the reason you chose Gryffindor? Because I was badmouthing Gryffindor and Hufflepuff in Madame Malkin's?"

"You remember that?"

"It was the day I met Harry Potter and didn't even notice! Of course I remember."

Harry's smile widened. "Well, yes and no. Ron told me that only the darkest of wizards go to Slytherin. That's why I didn't want to go there. You were more or less... I don't know... you sounded mean. I guess I took that as proof then."

Draco hummed. "Well, it's not wrong, is it?" Somehow, Draco felt like he had done his younger self a great disservice. Or his younger self him.

Harry glanced down at him. "I don't believe that. You've never been very kind to ME and my friends. But you were loyal to yours."

"Until after." Draco said.

"You mean, after your friends joined the Death Eaters and decided they liked killing and torturing people more than they liked you. I can't even begin to imagine how you must have felt. I know you considered Pansy Parkinson your best friend."

Draco nodded, and let the tears drop to his hands. Potter didn't comment on it. He must sense that Draco had no choice but to let them flow.

"You know... if you guide them right, they can still change. You don't have to give up on them," Harry said eventually. "Besides, I always thought Snape was evil too. In the end, he did everything he did out of love."

Draco stared at him. "Snape in all honours, Potter, but he's lived a petty life. Sure that made him ambiguous enough for Voldemort to trust him and stuff, but that doesn't justify how he treated Neville all those years."

"Neville?" Harry smirked. "What about me?"

Draco scoffed. "Excuse me? Your father married the woman he was in love with. Had a child. Then died with her. And you're allegedly James Potter's spitting image. I get why he hated you. But Neville never did anything wrong and Snape spits on him every lesson. He also didn't have to be so mean to Hermione. Though, admittedly, she can be a bit annoying with her knowing everything."

Harry's smirk only grew. "That I ever get to hear you defending Neville and Hermione at the same time."

"Yes, I've been purified," Draco tried rolling his eyes, but decided to force down some broth instead. "Being tortured and killing people makes you rethink your life." His hand was still shaking, while he took his time with every bite. He didn't want to cover the ground with broth, so he held the spoon with both hands while hunched over the table.

Harry's smirk fell. He looked at the door. The atmosphere had changed somewhat. "I'll get you some clothes."

Sirius still seemed somewhat skeptical as he gave Draco some spare clothes. It almost looked like he feared that Draco would do something weird with them. Though Draco had not the faintest idea how Sirius expected him to kill someone with a pair trousers.

It took an entire week for Draco's fever to break. After that, he was proud to walk the stairs again without falling over nearly every step. A week was pretty quick, Draco decided and felt a little proud of his recovery. He still lacked the strength to do much more than that though.

The last week before Hogwarts would begin, Sirius went out to get Draco some new clothes and other stuff he would mysteriously claim that Draco would need.
It was only then that Draco was reminded that the charges against Sirius Black had been dropped. Or rather, it finally hit home. The hearing had been lead by Dumbledore himself with Remus Lupin as witness and even though the voice of a Werewolf barely counted, the testimonies of the caught Death Eaters had proven his innocence. Perhaps that's why Sirius didn't complain much about Draco staying. Though he kept away. They all did. Which is why Draco really only ever saw Harry and sometimes Ronald. (And the latter only because Ronald was a good friend who cared very much about Harry.)

Draco hadn't even known that the entire Weasley family was here. When he walked into the kitchen that first time, Molly Weasley was once again fighting with Kreacher over dominance over the kitchen. The sight was oddly familiar. Mr. Weasley, the twins, Ginny, and Remus Lupin paused as they saw him walk in. Draco froze at the sight of them. Though his body was slowly recovering, his mind was still easily triggered. The sight of Mr. Weasley almost reminded Draco of Nagini but he managed to keep calm (and his food down). He swallowed and almost decided he was better off sick in his bed than facing any of them. In his sudden panic, Draco made sure his left arm was covered.

"Draco Malfoy," said Remus Lupin and never before had he looked at Draco this distantly. He never lacked warmth in any of his gazes. But this wasn't the look Draco used to get from him. It was oddly reminiscent of the one he usually directed at Severus. Not because Lupin didn't trust him but because he had decided to trust someone else's judgment over his own.

"Harry told me you used my shampoo," was the first thing Ginny Weasley said. Draco stared at her. That was one hell of a conversation starter.

"It's a good brand." What else was he supposed to respond?

Ginny turned to one of the twins and held out her hand. "Pay up, Fred. I told you he wouldn't deny it!"

The twin - Fred - groaned, then pulled out a Galleon and handed it to her. She grinned and tugged it away. Fred didn't stop being dramatic though. "We come home from work ONCE and what do we return to? Mom is disappointed and my sister only wants my money." Draco felt himself relax somewhat.

"I never said I was disappointed in you, hun. I just don't think it's a very lucrative business. I just think you should be getting yourself real jobs -"

Draco cleared his throat. Molly didn't seem to have noticed him yet, but he still had things to say. "Personally, I think they've made a fabulous choice. They made their hobby into a business and that's working out extremely well. Not just that, it's also helping people during the times of war to get some distraction and also have weapons and defences that the death eaters won't be prepared for. Additionally, they've made their dreams come true. I know I'm not one to talk but you should be more supportive of your kids." Like he had any right to say that.

There was a momentary pause in which Molly turned to him, surprised that he even existed.

"See?" Fred beamed and high-fived his twin. "Even Malfoy thinks it's a good idea!"

Molly stemmed her hands in her sides. "Draco. Don't encourage them! If you had kid's -"

"I'd make sure they know I'm proud of them, so they don't get the absurd idea to join Voldemort to prove their worth," Draco gave back absurdly. Perhaps he really shouldn't have come down.

"Okay, hold on, it's really not THAT bad, Malfoy," said George.

Draco nodded and leaned against the frame. Yeah, he had overstepped, he knew that. He guessed that he was still easily triggered. "Sorry. I just..." He didn't know why he had said all that. Perhaps a part of him was still worried for his mother. Perhaps still mad at his father. Probably a bit jealous of the Weasleys. The other part was scared of coming home to THEM. To the Weasley's. He had just joined Voldemort and come back with the dark mark. He wasn't part of their family and Harry was the only one who vouched for him. To demand this of them... To be in his presence ... it was too much. And yet, a part of him was thinking of his own child. He closed his eyes.

Molly Weasley sighed, then she walked over and pulled him in an unexpected motherly hug. "Harry told us everything, hun." She patted his head with a smile and Draco immediately missed his own mother. "We're glad you're save." She pushed him away and righted his hair a bit. "You look pale dear, have you eaten yet?"

Draco looked at his feet in response. This was a bit out of his comfort zone. "What exactly did he tell you?"

This time, Lupin answered from his seat at the kitchen table. "That you're both from the future and have already lived through this war. He told us everything yesterday." He pulled out a chair. "Sit. Molly is right. You should eat."

Draco followed his invitation with surprise. He could only wonder how much they actually knew. Molly clearly didn't know that he had a child. Probably because Draco had abandoned them. Kreacher suddenly pushed pancakes on Draco's plate and shoved them to him, along with some orange juice. "Thanks," Draco said and sent the houseelf a distracted smile as he didn't want to upset him. He didn't immediately dig in though. The longer he stared at the food, the more he was reminded of how little he knew what was in it.

Lupin patted him on the shoulder. "Harry told me I have to thank you for saving Sirius' life?"

Draco paused and turned to him guilt ridden. "I can't take that credit, to be honest. We were more people than we were supposed to be last time around. He might never have died in the first place. I wouldn't know. One of the twins could have saved him."

Lupin shook his head. His mistrust slowly falling away as he seemed to notice the stress in Draco's expression. "Then the difference would have been that you made them all go, isn't it?" He still seemed conflicted. "The order knows what you did though. In your time at the manor. So does the ministry. At least the part that isn't yet under Voldemort's control yet. Of course, so does the one that IS under his control but you know what I mean. You may only be sixteen years old, but you still killed people." The room fell silent.

Draco wondered if Lupin was aware that Draco was originally prepared to let Sirius die while he kept Harry safe in Hogwarts. Draco closed his eyes in order to prepare himself. "I'm prepared to go to Azkaban."

Lupin put his hand down. He looked sad and no doubt thought of Sirius. "Are you? Can you imagine it? Dementors don't just suck out any luck you may feel. They go much deeper than that. Many go insane. I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. Not really."

Draco looked him in the eye. He almost wanted to laugh, he almost felt pity for him. Though he wasn't entirely sure what for. For Sirius' past? For Remus' lack of imagination? The naivety to think that Azkaban was the worst place to be at the moment? "Voldemort guards the manor with Dementors. I don't know how much you know, but Death Eaters generally aren't very happy people. Most can't do a decent patronus, myself included. I think I have a pretty good idea on how it feels to have them creep up on my bones at all times."

Lupin blanched. He slowly let go of Draco's shoulder, expression changing slowly with the understanding. "That is... alarming."

"Can you pass me the jam?"

Lupin did and watched with mild horror as Draco put the jam on his pancake.

"He's such a joy to be around," the other twin - George - suddenly hummed. "Kreacher, could I get the next pancakes? These might be the best you've ever made!" The houseelf beamed.

"Where is Potter?," Draco asked looking around. "And Ronald?"

"They joined Sirius to get you clothes and school books," said Ginny with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Draco blinked. "Wait... school books?" He looked from one person to another. "Weren't we just talking about me going to Azkaban? I'm definitely not going back to - Harry went to Diagon Alley? ... is he nuts? He's supposed to be dead!"

Remus sighed. "Harry was only proclaimed dead because you were in Voldemort's grasp. Because of that, because of his testimony, you've been under the ministry's protection from the moment Voldemort apparated you to Malfoy manor. Of course, you killing Cornelius Fudge complicates things, but we've got this under control. At least for now. Voldemort doesn't know that you're alive yet. At least we don't think he does, not if he believes the Inferi killed you. Dumbledore wants you in Hogwarts, to watch over you. Once you're there, you won't have to worry about any trials yet.
And about Harry- he got an invisibility cloak, so you don't have to worry about him being discovered. We let him go because he'd an adult now and he's the only one who knows your size and Sirius went with him because he uses every opportunity to get out of the house now. I guess Ron just went with them to make sure they don't end up doing anything stupid."

Draco blinked away the dozen questions he still had and settled for one. "And why didn't YOU go with him? Snape always said you and Remus were like a 'married couple'. Inseparable, he said," Draco made air quotes and took a first bite of the pancake. George was right. It tasted heavenly. Draco wondered if perhaps he was able to eat it was because he had watched how Kreacher had made it. It was perhaps the first time Draco had tasted something that didn't feel like ashes on his tongue in nearly a year. It was nice.

Remus stared at him, but ended up not addressing the comment although his ears turned pink. "Well, Sirius is a free man now. But I'm still a Werewolf. What do you think it will look like if Sirius Black runs around with me? Either his status as murderer will put stains on the Werwolf stigma, or my reputation as Werwolf will influence his. It's too dangerous right now."

"Ah. yeah." Draco nodded, then considered otherwise. "I don't think that's true. People who don't know don't care. And those who know you, care even less. Especially when it's not even a full moon. Besides, you've lived like this all your life, why care only now?"

"Alright." Lupin sighed. "I didn't want to leave while a death eater is in the house." He sounded uncomfortable as if he were afraid to insult Draco.

Draco took another bite of pancakes. "That makes more sense."

"I don't mean to offend you. This isn't because I don't believe what Harry says. It's just... you turned in time before Harry did. Aside from the fact that time travel is extremely dangerous, you might have some ulterior motives that he doesn't know of. A lot happens in a year. Or Voldemort could have put a curse on you... or... anything to undermine us and Harry wouldn't know. Maybe not even YOU know. And this is all still new to us."

Draco tilted his head. Good points all over. "Potter is an auror, Lupin. If anyone can detect curses, it's him. I'm not offended though. A lot DID happen in a year. Just not in this one."

Sixth year. And from then on everything that followed.

"I see," Lupin said and bit his lip. "Are you sure this is alright?"

Draco looked at him. "Voldemort asked me to kill. And I did as I was told. I'm the one who killed Cornelius Fudge. I know exactly how this looks and how dangerous it is for you to have me here. Especially for Sirius. Especially for you. Especially -", he pointed at Molly. "-around kids. Which is why I must ask this AGAIN. Why is Potter out there getting me school books?"

Lupin stared at him. "Because Dumbledore said so."

"You could seriously do with questioning him more."

"I..." Lupin sighed. "Albus Dumbledore is a great wizard and you should trust him more. But now that we're at it, I should inform you that you won't be going back to Slytherin quarters. Dumbledore has it arranged that you will sleep in the Gryffindor tower from now on."

Draco almost let the plate drop to the floor. "Wait... hold on. I HAD another room last year! Why can't I take that one?"

Lupin leaned back in his chair. "Dumbledore wants you under constant supervision. Which means you will always be with either Harry or Hermione, depending on your schedule."

"Ah." Draco made. "Who is it he doesn't trust? Me or the other Slytherins?"

Lupin frowned, seemingly surprised by the comment. "I don't know, Draco. I don't know the inner workings of Albus Dumbledore's mind. I mean... he made Sirius your knew DADA teacher. SIRIUS. It's like he gives that position to ANYONE nowadays." He sounded amused, really. Maybe a little proud, too. "But I have reason enough to believe that he knows what he's doing."

Draco paused in the middle of a bite. "Excuse me, he made who our what teacher?"

"I take it that's not what happened last time."

Far from it. Draco had to admit he was more than shocked. "Of course not! Sirius was dead!" Draco's words hit Lupin harder than intended. The man's grin immediately vanished. But Draco was too confused to dwell on it. "Snape was our DADA teacher. And Slughorn took over for potions. I don't understand..."

Without warning, someone patted Draco on the shoulder and he flinched around. Underneath the invisibility cloak, Harry pulled out his head. "Hey, we're back. What did I miss?" Behind him entered Sirius and Ron, both carrying half a ton of books. Sirius looked like he had just come from a beach vacation, that's how big his smile was. Not surprising, considering how long he'd had to hide.

"I can see that! Did you HAVE to sneak up on me?"

"Yes. It's very entertaining," Harry retorted warmly. "Now, to answer your question. Dumbledore made Slughorn our potions Professor to gain a certain information he had. He was the only one who knew how many Horkruxes Voldemort planned to make. That was the one thing Dumbledore couldn't guess. But I already told him how many there are, so we don't really need Slughorn anymore. And well... Slughorn was a potions Professor and Dumbledore only had one year left to live. So he gave Snape that year to be DADA Professor."

"Dumbledore has only one year to live?" Lupin sat up straight in utter alarm.

Harry shook his head. "No, didn't I mention it? When I confronted him about being from the future, he had just found Vorlost's ring. It's destroyed. I promised him he could still use the stone even after he split it in half. Last time, it cursed him pretty bad when he tried to use it."

"Use it? The ring?" Draco felt confused now. Why would Dumbledore want to use a Horkrux?

Harry shook his head and folded the cloak. "It's part of a tale. Voldemort's almighty wand was part of it. As is my cloak. I'll explain it later."

Stone, wand, cloak? Hold on. "Wait... is this about the Deathly Hallows? They are real?" Draco's eyes widened in shock.

Potter's head tilted. "You know about the Deathly Hollows?"

Draco threw up his hands. "I'm a Malfoy! My father wanted to put me in Dumstrang. I'm pretty sure I told EVERYONE in our fourth year! I know pretty much everything about Grindelwald and his search for the elder wand. You mean THAT was it? And your cloak is THE cloak?" His eyes trailed over to the silvery cloak that Potter had hung over his arms. He wanted to touch it, but didn't dare ask for it.

Harry stared at him. "You always surprise me, Draco. Seriously. Next time I go on a man hunt on Horkruxes, I'll force you to come with. You know like... everything."

"I'm flattered." Draco actually smiled. "A compliment from the mighty Potter. I feel so honoured."

Harry ruffled his hair in response, much to Draco's shock. "You should be. You've done really stupid things the past couple of years."

For a moment they exchanged a glance, then Ronald whispered to Sirius so loud, everyone could hear. "I swear. It's like they have their own language."

Draco blinked. "I mean... we have... approximately eleven years on all of you. Of course we have a little more history than you."

Ron glared at him. "I know that. But Harry is MY best friend. Don't forget that."

Draco laughed. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"Like there is anything to be jealous of!," said Ron with a grimace and actually sounded like he meant it.

That was probably fair. Draco smiled to himself and found to his own surprise that he still felt fairly hungry. And so, Kreacher made him another pancake, much to his and Potter's delight.

"Well, now that that's out of the way. I'll put your books in your room," said Sirius. "By the way, can you help me get rid of that AWFUL tapestry in the living room? I tried the spell you told me last Christmas, but it didn't work."

Draco looked up. He had completely forgotten about that thing. "Oh yeah, sure, I guess. It probably needs more than just blood magic since your face was eradicated from it. We have a similar one in the manor and it took me forever to get rid of it. Did you know that the portraits can burn people off the tapestry too, if they collectively decide they hate one of their descendants? Turns out our Pureblood ancestors can tolerate us turning against the Dark Lord, but they draw the line at homosexuality."

Somehow, the room turned silent.

Fred held out a hand next to himself without breaking eye contact with Sirius while Ginny put her hard earned money back in his hand with a scoff. Molly suddenly had a hand on her heart, as if in total shock.

Draco looked up. "What? Did I say something weird?"

Sirius' smile grew again. "I couldn't be more proud!" he wiped off a fake tear. "That settles it. You're one of the good ones. I should have known! Welcome to the club, dear cousin."

Remus facepalmed.

"GOD damn it!," said Fred and gave Ginny two Galleons back. In the meantime, Arthur Weasley got a Galleon from George, who was muttering nonsensical things under his breath.

Molly stared at her husband. He just shrugged. "What? It was obvious."

She whacked him on the head. "Don't encourage them!"

Then everyone broke into laughter. Harry's was among the loudest. Draco was confused. "What? What did I say?"

Harry ruffled his head again. "You just made Sirius come out, you dolt."

"Oh." Draco's eyes widened. His eyes fixed on Sirius, then on Remus, who was blushing furiously, as if the entire situation made him feel incredibly awkward and uncertain.
Draco blinked. "Oh."
So, they were saying...
They weren't together?