April 2002

Harry's a good twenty minutes' walk into the undergrowth of the forest before he cracks and realises his need for Lumos to see anything at all. It's growing into a cold, almost oppressive darkness in the centre of the woods, and gnarled branches and reeds bar his every step, while knotted logs and boulders create a frustrating obstacle course ok the ground.

What's more frustrating, of course, is that Harry has no idea what he's looking for. Is he looking for evidence that Lucius Malfoy was here before he died? Is he looking for an actual Horcrux? More Death Eaters in hiding? All three?

"Just find what you can," Rosen told him casually yesterday. But what's that supposed to mean?

Harry sighs and rubs his scar absent-mindedly. He wishes Ron was with him to keep up the usual banter and distract him from his thoughts, or just to share in the weirdness of the situation.

He's thinking about what else his boss said the day before, though, about the state of Malfoy's body when it was found. How it looked more like an unoccupied shell than a dead body. How there was a dark vision spotted flying from the prison walls in the early hours of the same morning - Harry's convinced it was a soul.

It's not a surprise that Lucius would have a Horcrux, but it's still disgusting.

Evil snake, Harry thinks suddenly, and he means it. Lucius Malfoy is - was - the most venomous and twisted creature ever to lead the revolution, with potential even above Tom Riddle in Harry's opinion. There's just something about his "Real Purebloods of the Revolution" slogan that makes Harry's blood run cold.

"Vile, vile," he mutters to himself. Twigs snap like little explosions underfoot. He's had enough of explosions, enough of chaos.

But then suddenly, he sees him. All at once, like a dream. And he's ... no - is he? Is he beautiful?

In his sleep, Draco Malfoy looks smaller than Harry remembers him, and less broad, more angular.

He's partially hidden under a web of fir branches that drop emerald needles in his hair, which just as light as it ever was, but now long enough to fall over his cheekbones and brush into his eyes. It was always kept short at school.

Harry wonders about waking him. He has to arrest him, that's for sure. Should he touch him now? Or now? He leans in. Weird. No.

Months of Auror training, and now all it takes is the sight of a sleeping boy he used to hate to completely throw Harry off.

Used to. It's hard to hate him in his sleep.

But in the end, the decision is made for him - in an instant Malfoy's eyes snap open, and he overpowers Harry onto his back in a fluid, panther-like motion. His sharp knees press straight into Harry's chest, and with one slender hand he holds the other boy's wrists down above his head.

"What a lovely surprise, Potter," he hisses. His face is inches from Harry's, his breath hot and his eyes wild, and for a good few seconds Harry's too shocked and overwhelmed to react at all.

Because in that moment, he's not twenty-two any more, with his Auror qualifications and his stubble and his mortgage.

He's fifteen and on the school Quidditch pitch with his rival, and God, he hates him so much, but more than anything he hates the way he makes him feel, and he hates the proximity and the heat and the aggression-

Malfoy's left hand presses harder into his wrists.

He's still strong, even if he's skinnier than he used to be, and the contact hurts - and then with his right hand he begins to push roughly over Harry's fidgeting hips, fingers darting daringly into the pockets till he draws out the Auror's wand.

"Malfoy, what the fuck-" Harry chokes, wriggling frantically against him, but it's no use. Malfoy's twirling Harry's wand insolently in his fingers, and showing no signs of letting him go. "Give that back, you twat!"

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy smirks. "So you can call your snitchy little Auror friends and have me tortured? I don't think so."

"I won't!" Harry lies desperately, "I'll go. Just give me my wand back, I won't alert anyone."

"If you're telling the truth then you won't be needing your wand," Malfoy replies quietly, dangerously, and with one deft hand he bends the holly wood till it snaps right down to its phoenix feather core. Harry gasps loudly, as if it was a bone that's been broken and not his wand. In fairness, it may as well have been a bone for how much he needs it.

"You stupid fucking bastard!" he snarls, and Malfoy claps a quick hand over his mouth.

"Don't be so dramatic, Potter," he rolls his eyes. He slips the splintered wand into his robe pocket; he doesn't know why, but he does it all the same. Harry barely notices.

He rolls hard and Malfoy's off him now, sprawled on the cold November ground in the pine needles.

Both their hearts hammer angrily in the cages of their chests, Malfoy glares disdainfully down at Harry, and for a second both of them wonder whether he'll hit him.

"How fucking old are we?" Harry asks, scrambling to his feet and brushing pine and dirt angrily off his robes. "Nothing changes, does it? We grow up, we leave school - one of us does something decent with his life-"

"The other stays a Death Eater, is that what you're going to say?" Malfoy's lip curls. "How very woke of you, Potter."

Harry doesn't know what to say to that. How is it that after all these years apart, Malfoy still manages instantly to make him uncomfortable. The feeling is fresh, raw again, like a wound. And Malfoy knows just know to salt it.

"You're on thin ice, Malfoy," he tries to sound authoritative, but he can tell he doesn't quite manage. "I am an Auror now, you know. My literal job is to track down and arrest wizards like you."

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy smirks, the same nasty look Harry's seen on his face a thousand times. "Arrest me then."

A pause.

"I said, arrest me," Malfoy insists. He's on his feet now, and he holds out his wrists, pressed firmly together. He's at least a head taller than Harry, the other boy realises a little too late.

"No, seriously," Draco continues with a lazy grin, "What are you waiting for, Potter? Lost your Muggle handcuffs? Need your wand for the Binding Charm? Or were you going to just hold my hands?"

"Shut up," says Harry weakly.

"Oh yeah," Malfoy laughs, tone soaked in sarcasm. "You haven't got a wand. And I bet you don't know your way out of the woods, either."

With a horrendous chill, Harry realises he's right. It's darkish, he has no wand, and all the surroundings look exactly the same. He'd have no idea which way to walk if he wanted to leave.

"Fucking hell," he growls, and he can swear he sees genuine amusement flit across Malfoy's face. "Fucking hell."

Terror begins to rise like bile in his throat. No wand, no provisions, no way of leaving the forest. This is turning into a waking nightmare.

"Do you know the way out?" he asks hoarsely. "I demand you show me, Malfoy."

"I don't know it," Draco shrugs. Harry can't tell if he's lying, but it doesn't make much difference either way. He's clearly not keen to let him go.

"Fuck you, Malfoy," he hisses, and the other boy smiles idly down at him.

"Some things never change, you're right," he replies. "Welcome to my world, Potter."

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a/n: i feel bad for harry lol that's such a fear of mine but hopefully you enjoyed this chapter:)

sorry for slower updates on this fic than the last two, i'm keeping it slower paced to reduce pressure on myself though i do enjoy writing so i'll keep going, but yeah it won't be every day like the last two so sorry!!! but i haven't forgotten dw❤️ please vote and comment if you enjoyed!!

~ paradisedraco