Found, Never Lost

Chapter 3: Walking & Talking

Out to Lunch

Still Saturday, June 19, 2004

Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, 12:00

"It's good to see you, too, Harry."

Fortunately, Potter seemed to have missed his slip of the tongue. He still had the habit of running a hand through his hair, Draco observed, but the nervous gesture didn't leave his head looking like a crow's nest anymore because he was wearing his hair cropped short these days. It looked good on him. And it was amazing how much difference it made that his clothes actually fit - even though it was a rather unimaginative look: black jeans, trainers, and t-shirt, and a short-sleeved, black-and-green checkered shirt, worn unbut-toned over the rest.

"Well, I'm certainly glad I needn't be ashamed to appear with you in public," he stated.

Okay, this hasn't been too bad, Harry thought, relieved that the nausea he had felt since this morning was finally subsiding. Breathing was easier, too. Apart from the fact that he could not get his facial muscles under enough control to stop grinning, he thought he was holding up quite well.

"Thank you," he replied dryly. "Ready to go play tourist?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Do I have a choice?"

"Afraid not," was the cheerful response.

"Well, after you then, Potter." He gave Harry a mock bow, gesturing towards the door, and Harry felt a strong urge to poke him in the ribs and tell him to kindly call him Harry instead of Potter. It would be nice to hear Draco say his name again. It might make things easier, too. On the other hand, if Draco needed to be on a last-name basis to feel more comfortable, Harry was not going to push him. He turned around and headed for the door.

"What do you want to do first?" he asked when they stepped out into the busy street, "go eat or go sightseeing?"

"I haven't eaten yet, so lunch would be good."

Harry nodded, noting the fact that he had not been the only one too nervous to eat today.

"We can still get breakfast if you like," he suggested.

"Breakfast? At noon?" Draco was astonished.

"Sure, why not? Some places serve breakfast round the clock." He smirked at Draco.

"Great for sleepyheads like you."

Draco smirked back. "Got me there, Potter."

I know, Harry thought, remembering the many times at Hogwarts he'd had to drag Draco out of bed in the morning - sometimes bodily. He glanced at him furtively. Draco looked good. He had filled out a little and wasn't quite as angular anymore. To Harry's surprise, his hair now fell past his shoulderblades, which took getting used to because it reminded him of Lucius Malfoy, but it suited Draco. Although, wasn't that against Wizarding tradition? He didn't remember if Draco had said that only married wizards wore their hair long...

They reached a building covered in bright red tiles with the large sign "Fehrbelliner Platz".

"Ever been on the metro?"

"Actually, I have. Granger gave me a crash course in Muggleism before she put me on that airplane." Draco grimaced.

Harry chuckled. "Good old Hermione. Never does things by halves." He handed Draco a small paper card. "I got you a day ticket on the way. You'll need to stamp it over there. Arrow side up." Draco inserted the card into the only visible opening on the red box Harry indicated. The machine rattled and clanked.

Most things Muggle seemed to involve noise, Draco thought as they descended a stair-case. Things beeped or rang or dinged incessantly, not to mention the constant roaring, honking, and wailing of vehicles in the streets and the general din of millions of people breathing, walking, laughing, talking...

"You okay?"

He startled a little at the sound of Potter's voice.

"What? Oh... Yeah... sure."

"What were you thinking about?" Harry asked quietly, surprised when he actually received an answer.

"Noise."

As if on cue, a low rumble and screeching brakes announced the approach of the under-ground. Draco covered his ears, a pained expression on his face.

Harry nodded sympathetically. "It takes a while to get used to," he said, waiting for a multi-faced crowd to disembark before stepping onto the train. "As do the battalions of strangers," he muttered under his breath.

"No kidding," came Draco's dry comment from only slightly behind and to the right of him.

For the umpteenth time since he had started this whole undertaking, Draco mentally thanked Granger for insisting on "acclimatising" him to big city life by shooing him around London for two days. Otherwise, he would have found it much harder to resist the urge to step closer to Potter this very moment and grab hold of his... shirt or something, to make sure they could not get separated by the mad maelstrom of people. During his years in Prague, he had hardly ever ventured into the Muggle part of the city, and Berlin - although only half the size of London - was still at least twice as big as Prague, making for much larger crowds, more vehicles, more noise and dirt...

"So what was Hermione's crash course like?" Harry asked after they had sat down. He remembered his first time in London and how insecure he had felt. It must have been even worse for Draco, who probably had had no prior experiences with the Muggle world.

"She dragged me back and forth across London for two days and talked and talked and talked. It was... exhausting," Draco admitted.

"Who? Hermione or London?"

"Both."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, she can definitely be a bit... demanding."

Draco shook his head. "How you survived her mother-henishness with your sanity intact will forever remain a mystery to me."

"Thanks. I take that as a compliment."

"Don't get too used to it, Potter."

Harry resisted another strong urge to poke Draco in the ribs.

"Be nice to your tour guide! You'll get much better food and see much more interesting places that way!"

They grinned at each other and it suddenly struck Draco how extremely odd the situation was.

Seven years ago, they had been at each other's throats more and more frequently until they reached a point where passion could not bridge the gap anymore. We were both so scared back then, Draco thought. Harry, knowing that he was going to go after the Dark... after Voldemort and that he would not be able to keep his friends out of danger, that they would follow him to whatever end. And Draco, knowing that he would not be among them.

Oh, Father had made sure that the Death Eaters never summoned him into their ranks, and to this day, Draco was not sure whether Lucius had done it to protect his son or if he was simply ashamed of him. But Draco's contempt for Dumbledore and his do-gooders had been too deep to defect to the other side. Or so he had thought at the time.

"Don't you see that this is about what kind of world we want to live in?" Potter had one day shouted at him in exasperation. "Do you want to live in a world where people can't be together or get shut out or simply killed because of who their parents and grandparents and fucking great-grandparents were? Because I certainly don't! If you still believe all that pureblood superiority shit, after everything your father has done to you, I feel sorry for you. I'd rather die than grovel before any-fucking-body just because they threaten me or my friends or my family."

And Draco had sneered and made a waspish remark about Muggles not understanding the Wizarding world and foolish Gryffindor beliefs, because, as usual, he refused to even consider the possibility that Harry could have a point: that Voldemort could be a deluded megalomaniac whose political propaganda was only a decoy to manipulate powerful wizards into aiding him in his personal revenge.

By that time, their fights had developed a certain pattern. They would disagree, one would get angry and the other defensive, their voices would rise with their tempers until one of them - mostly Harry - reined himself in and mumbled something along the lines of "I shouldn't have..." or "I didn't mean to..." or "I'm sorry..." And they would kiss desperately and, for a precious little moment in time, let their bodies take them where they could forget the things that separated them and find peace in each other.

But then Harry broke the pattern. Instead of swallowing the bait of Draco's sneers, he looked at him in an odd way. "I can't do this anymore, Draco," he said quietly. "I'm so tired of fighting over the same thing all the time. I just don't have... You know that we'll never get anywhere like this." He sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Took a deep breath. When he looked at Draco again, Draco saw something in his face that had not been there in a long time: walls. And then he pulled him close and hugged him fiercely and spoke so softly that Draco could barely hear him.

"We have to stop this or we'll start hating each other again."

He leaned his cheek against Draco's, who just stood there, too confused to move or speak.

"I don't want to hate you," he whispered, and Draco realised that Harry was trembling and an unpleasant feeling began to spread out from his stomach.

"I'm going to go after him. You know that I have to. The bastard murdered my parents and he's been trying to kill me since I was a year old. I'm tired of it. I'm not going to sit here and wait for him to come and get me. Nothing you can say will change my mind. And nothing I can say will change yours."

Harry straightened up and lightly brushed his lips against the corner of Draco's mouth.

"We just... can't be together, Draco, not until all this is over."

"Where are you going?" Draco blurted out, stunned, not knowing what else to say.

"Order's headquarters. I could tell you where that is but then I'd have to kill you." Harry tried to sound light-hearted but his smile was sad and his eyes were a little too bright. And then he stepped back. Turned. Started to walk away. Draco's "Wait" swallowed by the folds of his robes. Gone.

And yet here they were, laughing as if none of this had ever happened. It was... surreal, Draco thought.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Harry had to touch his arm to get his attention. "I said we can stay on the underground if you enjoy it so much, but I'd rather get something to eat."

Draco startled and rose to follow Potter off the train.

"Everything okay? You looked a little out of it back there."

"Yeah. Fine. Guess I needed a break from Mugglemania for a minute."

Harry shot him a sideways glance but didn't inquire further. He had a feeling Draco's thoughts might have taken a similar turn as his, trying to deal with the bizarreness of their... meeting. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. What now? They would have to talk about... things eventually. Star was right. They both needed it. The question was when... and where... and who should initiate it.

Well, one thing was certain, Harry thought, he at least would not initiate anything on an empty stomach.

Café Hardenberg, approx. 12:40

Harry had debated with himself whether or not to ask Draco what kind of food he liked, then decided to follow his intuition and just take him to the Hardenberg, one of the large café-restaurants not far from the Technical University. They offered a decent variety of food on a conveniently bilingual menu, the prices were acceptable, most of the staff spoke English, and the patrons were mainly students. Besides, the place was close to the metro station so that they need not take the bus.

Harry avoided buses as a means of transportation in Berlin as much as possible. With a less than rudimentary knowledge of German, one had to be a very adventurous character to use the public bus system. Mainly because there was no telling which stop was coming up, unless one could read the - rather small - LED display in the front of the bus, which was not always possible, especially when the bus was full and one was penned in be-tween people... or happened to sit with one's back to the display... or be preoccupied with holding on to whatever was in reach to keep one's balance - the latter largely depending on a combination of the road's surface and the driver's mood - or disposition - or both -, especially during stopping and departing. Thanks, but no thanks! Riding the bus with Star, who had grown up in Berlin, was a lot of fun, but when on his own, he pre-ferred to rely on the underground - and his feet.

Yes, the Hardenberg would be okay. Just one transfer and a short walk. And if they were lucky, it wouldn't be too crowded yet and they could get a table outside or in one of the window alcoves where the air was better than in the thick of the crowd and where they would have a little privacy.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"So tell me how you've been doing. How did your N.E.W.T.s go?" Harry asked, sipping his orange juice.

They had indeed been able to get a window seat and spent a few minutes browsing the menu, discussing what to eat, and the waitress had disappeared with their order after bringing their drinks.

Draco shrugged. "All O's. Top of the class."

"No surprise, really. You're almost as bookish as Hermione."

Harry sniggered at Draco's scandalised look. "I said almost."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I take that as a compliment, Potter."

Harry smiled and didn't reply.

"Did you... ever take yours?" Draco asked hesitantly after a few seconds, studying the contents of his glass.

"Actually, I did. About two years after you. It was strange, though, being back at Hogwarts and most of our old class gone."

He looked out the window, remembering how grateful he had been that Ron and Hermione were still with him. Against all odds, they had made it through... everything. Relatively unscathed. At least physically. They had returned to Hogwarts almost to the day one year after they had left. Naturally, Hermione had set up study schedules for the three of them right away...

"Potter? You still with me?"

Harry blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry." He smiled. "I was just thinking about Hermione. She was nice enough to let us unpack our trunks the day we arrived before she cracked the whip and dragged us into the library. Ron's face was priceless!"

Draco sniggered. "Trust Granger to keep the troops marching." He winced inwardly at the remark, which could very well bring them close to a topic he'd rather avoid right now, but Potter seemed not to have noticed.

"I don't think Ron and I would have made it through school without Hermione." He gazed out the window again. "Not in one piece, anyway."

Draco was once again struck by the oddity of the situation. That they could sit here and have lunch, catching up, like old friends from school. As if the whole war - if you could call it that - had never happened. And for him actually it hadn't. Father had enrolled him in Professional Potion Making at Prague's Premier Training Academy for Professional Wizards & Witches. He had allowed him to come home to the Manor for a few weeks after his N.E.W.T.s, where a tutor drilled him in translation and interpreting spells for Czech, then sent him off to Prague - which he hadn't objected to at all. He distanced him-self from the Wizarding world in England and concentrated on his studies - most of the time, anyway.

Mother owled him regularly, of course, but he did not hear a single word from Father after the last day at the Manor, when Lucius had called him into his study and launched into yet another speech about family honor and expectations and that he still had to prove himself worthy to bear the name Malfoy - which, as far as Draco was concerned, was not much of an honor anymore. He would have exchanged it for... Love-good in a heartbeat if that had ended his isolation within the Wizarding world.

Too bad they had only given Father five years! But as usual, nobody could prove the worst accusations against him and the Wizengamot had to let him off lightly. Bloody honorable fools! But what had he expected? How had Blaise Zabini put it once? A lot of money and a very long arm. That was Lucius Malfoy. And Lucius Malfoy would be released from Azkaban by the end of this year. And Draco had better remember that the man still held his life in his hands - unless he wanted to earn a living teaching or making Potions somewhere. But who would trust a Malfoy enough to take him on? And then there was still...

Harry watched, slightly alarmed, as Draco clenched his teeth, wondering what was going on behind his cool façade.

"What's the matter?"

Draco blinked. "Sorry. What did you say?"

Harry decided to change the subject.

"I said, do you remember that day in Herbology when Lavender Brown tried to pet the Venomous Tentacula?"

It was not the most imaginative line, but it served the purpose. Draco sniggered and they launched into recollections of Potions' accidents, the Weasley Twins' pranks, Professor Snape in grandmother Longbottom's vulture-topped hat, Ron's hexing himself into throw-ing up slugs, and other harmless reminiscences, like Colin Creevey's obsession with photo-graphy or his brother's talent for bizarre accidents - carefully avoiding more... sensitive episodes such as Mad-Eye Moody turning Draco into a ferret, or Harry flinging mud at him, or Draco's imitation of a Dementor - although it seemed funny in retrospect, especially since he had hit Draco and his cronies Crabbe and Goyle with a nice Patronus in return.

The mention of Gilderoy Lockhart's unleashing a flock of Cornish pixies in the classroom then was the segue into a good twenty minutes of joyful teacher-bashing and some of Draco's infamous imitations, and by the end of two hours, their stomachs were pleasantly full and the mood completely relaxed. Which, considering their talent for stumbling into controversial topics of conversation, could change any minute, Draco thought dryly. Well, all the more reason to enjoy it while it lasted.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Okay, what shall we do now?" Harry asked after they had paid and were finishing their coffee.

Draco rolled his eyes. "How would I know what to do around here, Potter?"

Harry tsk'd and shook his head. "What? Hermione didn't buy you five of the very latest travel guides for Berlin plus Xenophobe's Guide to the Germans to read on the plane? I'll have to have words with her. She's slackening!"

Drace sniggered. "Believe it or not, even Granger overlooks things occasionally." Such as, for example, that you're living with somebody, he added to himself.

"Well, the weather is nice, so we can do anything outdoors. There are public parks all over the city. And of course there are tourist things like the zoo or boat trips... Places tend to get pretty crowded on weekends, though," Harry said, "could be stressful for you." He gazed out the window, frowning slightly, trying to figure out what to do, and missed the odd look that flitted across Draco's face.

"Let's do a guided tour. I've always wanted to go on one of those," Harry finally decided, "they start every thirty minutes and it's not far from here."

Draco shrugged. As long as it didn't involve long walks, he was game for pretty much anything.

"You didn't bring any jeans and trainers, by chance, did you?" Potter asked as if he could read his thoughts.

"Potter, I don't even own things like that."

"Too bad. We'll have to buy you some. Your feet are going to kill you if you walk around in these all day."

"Why would I buy clothes for one more day of sightseeing?" Draco tried to look blank.

Potter looked at him with a strange expression on his face. "Don't tell me you and Hermione went through the trouble of finding me and flying you here for just one week-end."

Draco's mind worked feverishly. Maybe Granger had told Potter that he actually had a whole week. On the other hand, they had agreed to keep it a secret. Hoping that Granger had kept her mouth shut, he shrugged and said, "I guess I could stay a couple more days," going for a nonchalant tone while trying to neglect the indefinable sensation spreading out from his stomach. "It's not like I'm urgently needed at home or anything."

"Good!" Harry beamed. "There's so much I haven't seen around here yet."

Draco looked skeptical. "How long did you say you have lived here?"

"About a year."

"And you still don't know the place?"

"It's a big city. And I didn't say I don't know the place, I said there are things I haven't seen yet."

"Well, you're the expert, Potter." Draco scooted his chair back and stood up. "Lead on and I shall follow."

And Harry's urge to poke him returned. With a vengeance.

A Walk in the Park

Still Saturday, June 19, 2004

Orangerie at the Charlottenburg Palace, around 16:00

"I need to stretch my legs," Potter had declared after two hours on a sightseeing bus and dragged him into a park at the back of some palace. From what Potter had told him, afternoon walks were an essential part of German tradition, especially on weekends. Sure enough there were people everywhere. And lots of dogs.

Naturally, Draco had teased him about his Muggle fondness for walks in the park, Harry had reminded him that it was a bad idea to annoy one's tour guide, and they had spent a while with friendly banter, interspersed by periods of companionable silence, occasion-ally resting on a bench, talking about this and that and nothing in particular.

Now they were sitting outside a little café next to the palace, having tea, and Draco tried to observe the people around him unobtrusively, finding it difficult to resist the urge to comment on them or ask questions that might draw attention. Potter had cautioned him in this regard when a Muggle woman glared at him after he had made an admittedly snide remark about her - undeniably ugly - dog. Many Muggles spoke English around here, Potter had warned, and Draco had kept his voice down and been more careful what he said or asked afterwards.

Harry watched him amused - and a little touched. He could tell from the look on Draco's face that despite his contempt for Muggles, he couldn't help being intrigued. Which didn't really surprise Harry. Draco was an intelligent person with an inquisitive mind and Harry had hoped that his curiosity would eventually overcome his forced distaste of Muggles. He still had a long way to go, of course, but this was a start.

"You never told me what you did after your N.E.W.T.s," he reminded Draco, whose thoughts apparently had wandered off again because it took him a second to react.

"I studied Professional Potion Making in Prague."

"Prague? I've never been there but I hear it's nice."

And Draco started talking about how Prague had been a major center of alchemy in the fifteenth and sixteenth century and that its Potion Makers were still famous today, espe-cially for developing very effective medical potions. Prague also had quite a large Wizarding population who maintained close ties with the Wizarding communities of Budapest and Vienna and cared little to none about the goings-on elsewhere, which had made things a lot easier for him at the time.

Draco winced inwardly for bringing them close to sensitive topics again - and thanked whatever higher authority was responsible for these things that this one, too, had appar-ently gone right over Potter's head. Or maybe he just found Wizarding communities on the Continent a more interesting subject than why being in Prague had made Draco's life easier, because he started asking Draco all kinds of questions about them and Draco was only too happy to answer.

Harry listened, watching the way Draco's expression changed as he talked about experi-ences he had truly enjoyed: his eyes brightened, his lips softened, his whole face came to life. It was a good sign that Draco lowered his shields so soon around him, even if they were just talking about harmless things, Harry thought. And then it dawned on him why Draco must have enjoyed his years away from the Wizarding world in England, and he wondered what had become of the few people Draco could still call friends after every-thing that had happened in their seventh year: Pansy and - to an extent - Blaise, Cra... Vincent and Gregory. The thought made him feel awkward and a little sad.

"Your turn, Potter."

"You mean what have I been up to since my N.E.W.T.s?"

Draco nodded, looking genuinely interested .

It was really amazing, thought Harry, that Draco seemed so different all of a sudden - and a lot younger. And he had to quickly shut a mental door so that the image of a stunned, angry, and hurt 17-year-old Draco could not come any closer. He cleared his throat.

"I had no idea what to do," he said - and almost added "I thought about becoming an Auror", but caught himself in time. "I talked to McGonagall and she suggested I stay at Hogwarts for a while, sort things out, look into a couple of options. So that's what I did."

He gazed out across the square in front of the castle. He had spent several months at Hogwarts, assisting Madam Hooch with her lessons, learning quite a few useful first-aid spells for minor Quidditch-related injuries in the process. He had helped Hagrid with the more amenable creatures in his care, such as hippogriffs and thestrals. And he had attended to those of Professor Sprout's greenhouses that were occupied by the more docile plants. But no matter how much he exerted himself physically, he seldom slept more than a few hours before nightmares woke him up and bitter memories made it diffi-cult to go back to sleep. He finally asked Madam Pomfrey for SnoozEez, but when he came back for a second bottle, she started fussing and suggested he see a healer. He did not ask her again. He'd rather suffer through sleepless nights than show his nose at St. Mungo's and become the subject of even more absurd speculations in the press.

"I couldn't find anything that sounded interesting enough, though, or that seemed like something I would enjoy. Or be good at. Other than Quidditch, that is, and I didn't feel like doing that for a living, either."

There had been several offers from professional Quidditch teams, of course, but the truth was that he was tired of the constant media attention. It was bad enough at the time. As a Quidditch pro, it would have been even worse.

Draco watched him curiously, wondering what Potter was holding back. His face clearly showed that he was telling him only bits and pieces - and that he didn't want to be asked for details. Which was fine with Draco. The important thing was that they were talking about the past at all, even if they both kept things to themselves. He suddenly realised how much he missed having someone to talk to. And then he remembered his thoughts during his conversation with Potter's roommate: that he missed... Harry.

"Then one day there was an article in the Prophet about Mrs. Figg opening a Kneazle Kennel in Ottery St. Catchpole. That's when I got the idea..."

Draco gave him a puzzled look. "Who is Mrs. Figg?"

"Oh. Right. You wouldn't know her." Harry chuckled. "She was one of the Dursleys' neighbours. I thought she was only a batty old cat lady until I found out that she was actually a squib and had orders from Dumbledore to watch over me." He frowned slightly, playing with his teaspoon. "Anyway... I saw that Prophet article about her, and then I thought about... being watched all the time. And I knew I wanted to get away from it." He looked at Draco and smiled. "You would have figured it out in a heartbeat, but it took me a week to put two and two together and realise that with her gone, there were no more wizard spies on Privet Drive."

Draco was aghast. "Are you telling me you went back to those... savages?"

"Unfortunately I had to. You can't just go off and live as a Muggle, even if you know how to do things without magic. You need all sorts of paperwork to prove that you even exist. The Ministry of Magic's bureaucracy is nothing compared to that of Muggles."

"How did you know all that?"

"I heard Uncle Vernon complain about it often enough. He had to fill out forms for his company all the time. And Aunt Petunia always carried on about the school bureaucracy." He shrugged. "There's good in bad, I suppose. I knew I needed legal documents of some sort. And the Dursleys were the people who had them or could tell me about them and would never tell anybody what I might be up to."

"Why would they help you? I thought they hated you."

Harry's expression hardened.

"I had a feeling that a promise to never show up again combined with a nice big cheque for, erm, room and board would soften even the Dursleys' hearts. It turned out I was right."

"But why would you want to become a Muggle at all?"

A little late Draco realised the tactlessness of his questions. Damn! Coldn't he just have asked why Potter left the Wizarding world? No, he had to put his foot in it again. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

But Potter let this one pass, too. Draco was beginning to wonder if he actually wasn't noticing his blunders or if he was actively ignoring them. However, if any of this hurt him in any way, Potter showed no sign of it. He just seemed to ponder the question as if he hadn't given it much thought so far.

"I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe I needed a... new challenge. And I couldn't make up my mind what to do as a wizard. Or maybe I just did it because I could." He pushed his glasses up his nose and shrugged. "It was probably a mixture of reasons. But mostly I wanted to get away from the attention." Especially from all the nasty gossip about you... and us, he thought.

Draco felt the area around his stomach relax. Whatever had happened those past seven years, it had certainly changed Potter. Which made him wonder if that was why he still - or rather: again - called him by his last name. "Harry" had been a gangly 17-year-old teenager who was constantly worried or upset about something. Draco was not sure what to make of this... adult Potter, who had grown into his body and was much calmer and more self-confident. The boy Harry he had known. The young man Harry he was only just getting to know. And he did not want to continue this particular line of thought right now.

"Was it difficult to get used to the Muggle world?"

And Harry, who was only too happy to get away from the "reasons why" topic, began talking about some of the funny things that had happened to him while trying to adapt to Muggle living.

What's for Dinner?
Orangerie, around 18:00

Harry stretched and glanced at his watch. "Almost six? No wonder I'm getting hungry! What do you want to do for dinner?"

"Well, Mr. Tour Guide, what do you suggest?"

Harry thought about it for a minute, running a hand through his hair, a dubious expres-sion on his face. Then made up his mind.

"A quiet place," he said and stood up. "Grocery store closes at seven. Let's go."

Draco suddenly felt... insecure. Being around Potter had been a lot easier than expected and he had enjoyed the day, but that had been in public. Safe. He was not sure how to feel about being with Potter at his place, which was clearly what the casual remark implied. Unfortunately, since he had no alternative suggestion, he did not have a choice at this point. He took a deep breath and followed Potter, hoping his roommate would be home. As unsettling as he found the woman, at least he would not be alone with Potter. He didn't think he was quite ready for that yet.

Harry glanced at Draco as he caught up to his side, wondering if Draco felt the same anxiety he did. Wished he could simply ask him. Knew he wouldn't. Why was it, he mused, that he felt so close and so far away from Draco at the same time?

It was like facing each other from opposite ends of a bridge, both clearly reaching out to one another but neither of them taking the first step. The feeling had been growing stead-ily over the past few hours while they caught glimpses of each other's lives in their con-versation, carefully dancing around those things they should talk about but didn't, in order to not disrupt the new, still fragile connection between them.

As much as he enjoyed spending time with Draco like they were just old friends, this could not go on, Harry thought, a little melancholy. And he reminded himself that - years out of school or not - he was still dealing with a Slytherin: intelligent, ambitious, and cunning, but not terribly courageous. It would be up to him to lead the charge. Not that he had any idea where they would end up, or even where he wanted them to end up, but he'd rather step into the unknown than be at a standstill for an extended period of time. Patience had never been one of his stronger points. Draco, on the other hand, could play one step forward-two to the side-half turn back-games indefinitely. If he let him. Which he wouldn't.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Still lost in thought, Harry entered the little supermarket on the corner with Draco in tow to buy bread and other odds and ends for dinner. He mentally reviewed the contents of their refrigerator, automatically picking up things they needed, oblivious to the fact that Draco was watching him curiously.

It was weird to see Potter move around in this world with such ease, Draco thought. He might as well be watching a stranger. The fact that Potter had grown up with Muggles had only meant something in terms of what he did not know about the Wizarding world. But that was a rather limited way of looking at things. It required a lot of knowledge to live as a Muggle and Draco was acutely aware that he was just beginning to get an idea of how little he knew about this world... and how intimidating that was. He wondered if it was like this for Muggle-borns when they found out that they were wizards; if Potter had felt like this when that big oaf Hagrid picked him up on his eleventh birthday and basi-cally dumped him into the Wizarding world. It must have been terrifying, he thought, not realising that he had spoken aloud until he heard Potter's startled "Huh?"

"I was just thinking... it must have been terrifying for you when that... when you first came to our world," he said, feeling awkward.

Potter blinked, looking surprised. "I never really thought about it that much." He shrugged. "At that age, nothing seemed as terrifying as the Dursleys. I was just happy to get away from them for the most part of the year. They could have sent me to St. Brutus and I would have been happy. Although I think I prefer our world to St. Brutus overall."

The "our" was not lost on Draco.

"Where is St. Brutus?"

"It's more a 'what' than a 'where'," Potter explained, blushing slightly. "It's a boarding school for... difficult cases. That's where the Dursleys told everybody I went to school. I had to promise Uncle Vernon to go along with the story before third year, when his sister came to visit, or he wouldn't sign my Hogsmeade form..." He trailed off, watching the cashier ring up their groceries.

Draco absent-mindedly started putting things in the plastic bag that Harry had handed him, just as absent-mindedly, while he paid. "Oh," Draco finally said, "that must have been your other aunt. The one you blew up?"

Harry chuckled. "The very same. Uncle Vernon never signed my form because of that. Well, that and because I was so pissed off that I grabbed my trunk and ran off that night."

They each picked up a grocery bag. "It took me everything not to hex him into next year," Harry continued as they headed out the door.

"Why didn't you?"

"I was close," Harry admitted, grinning, "but somehow it was enough to watch his face while I practically had my wand up his nose. I never really wanted to hurt anybody, not even the Dursleys. It just didn't seem right."

Draco snorted. I can see why you ended up in Gryffindor, he wanted to say. But it didn't... seem right. Instead he asked, "So why did you go back to them?"

"Because Aunt Petunia is my mother's sister. I have no other family, at least not that I know of. She's my only blood protection. As long as I could call her house my home, Voldemort couldn't really touch me - until I turned seventeen," Harry said matter-of-factly. Realised how very, very close they were to the part of the map with "here are the lions" written across in very big bold letters. Found that he was perfectly fine with the idea. And that he wasn't nervous at all anymore.