Found, Never Lost

Chapter 4: Into the Lion's Den

Still Saturday, June 19, 2004

"Voldemort couldn't really touch me - until I turned seventeen."

Suddenly Draco found it hard to breathe. Was this it already? The crossroad where he would have to make his first choice: Play it safe - or don't play at all? And they had arrived here because of something he hadn't meant to say aloud - why? Because saying things like this meant admitting that he thought about H... Potter. And that was not a good thing because it meant he had let his guards down and now he was... exposed? Vulnerable! Wasn't he? But how could Potter possibly hurt him? And why would he want to? And where did this jumble of emotions come from all of a sudden?

Draco was glad that they were not looking at each other right now. Potter had a talent for guessing his emotions quite accurately from looking in his face. Draco could not remem-ber off the top of his head why that had been a bad thing in the past, but it used to make him uneasy. And whenever that happened, he became sarcastic and cut into Harry, dis-tracted him by making him angry, and before they knew how they had arrived there, they were right back in the middle of another ride through the - oh so familiar - vicious circle. And it had mostly been because Draco was afraid. But none of the things he had feared back then were important anymore. They were just echoes of the past, ghosting around in his head.

Draco chose.

"That's why you had to leave when you did. You were running out of time." And you couldn't wait any longer for me to make up my mind, he added to himself.

"Yes."

They looked up and into each other's eyes and something passed between them: the acknowledgement that there were things that needed saying and that they would be said. If not tonight, then soon.

For some reason, being alone with Potter for an hour or two seemed a little less scary.

The Usual Suspects
Berlin-Charlottenburg, approx. 19:40

Harry stooped to peer through the windshield of one of the cars parked in front of the building before walking up to the entrance door to ring the bell.

"Who's for dinner?" he asked, when Star's voice came throught the intercom.

"Just the usual suspects."

Harry frowned slightly and sighed.

"Okay. Let us in."

He pushed the door open when the buzzer sounded and let Draco step past him.

Much better! Draco thought, relieved, when the heavy entrance door closed behind them. The dim cool silence of the stairwell was a welcome change after the hours spent in sunshine and heat and the hum of the city.

"Tell me, what on earth possessed you to move to the top floor in a building without a lift?"

They had reached the third landing. Draco was satisfied to notice that he did not feel too much out of breath yet. He had continued to practice Quidditch moves after his return from Prague, but flying was not necessarily an endurance sport.

"Mainly that it was both affordable and available when we needed it. It's also quiet up there. And it's good exercise. But those are just fringe benefits."

Draco made a noncommittal noise.

Fourth floor.

"So what is your girlfriend up to, Potter?"

"She's not exactly my girlfriend," Harry replied automatically, asking himself the same question. "Looks like she has some of her friends over." That in itself was nothing un-usual, but she normally told him when she invited people. "Is that okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" The thought of being alone with Potter hadn't seemed so bad a few minutes ago, but now some of his uneasiness had returned and Draco was relieved that he didn't have to be all alone with Potter.

Fifth floor. Harry stopped on the landing.

"You really don't mind? I mean that there are... other people? Other than Star, I mean." He looked a bit concerned.

"Don't be absurd. I'll be fine."

Harry turned around and started climbing again.

"We better eat in my room, though. The girls can be a little... exhausting."

Sixth floor.

Draco swallowed, not sure what made him more nervous: the thought of being in a room full of Muggles or the thought of being in a room alone with Potter.

They stepped through the door into a babble of voices.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Harry led the way into the kitchen and found it empty. The voices seemed to emanate from the living room. Good. Maybe they could fix something to eat and disappear into his room before anybody noticed.

"Here, give me your bag. I'll put the groceries away and then let's get out of here before the girls descend on us."

Harry sat his bag on the counter.

"Hey, looks like somebody made dinner!" He lifted the lid of a large pot on the cooker. "Smells good."

Draco stepped close enough to sniff the contents. "May I try?"

"Sure. Cutlery is in the drawer on your left."

Draco found a spoon and dipped it into the soup. Tasted. Made a thoughtful face and stared into the pot, lips slightly pursed. Harry glanced at him. This was certainly unex-pected. Who would have thought that Draco took an interest in cooking? He opened the refrigerator.

"Do you want something to drink? We have orange juice, milk, beer, or water. Or I can make tea."

"Marjoram," said Draco, who apparently hadn't listened, "and maybe caraway seed."

"Huh?"

"The stew. It would be better with some marjoram and caraway."

Harry pointed at a shelf. "Herbs and spices are up there. Help yourself."

"What kind of tea have you got?" Draco asked, perusing the contents of the spice rack. Caraway was easily identified, but which was... Ah! This label read Majoran. That had to be marjoram.

"Black or herbal. Redbush, peppermint, and some mixed herb teas. The labels are in German, so I don't know what they are."

Draco abandoned the pot for a moment to stick his nose into some of the containers Harry pointed out. He identified the contents without hesitation. Harry was intrigued.

"How did you learn that?"

"Good old C.C. I." Draco chuckled at Harry's arched eyebrows. "Component Classifica-tion and Identification. They wouldn't let you into Advanced Potion Making without at least two semesters of Basic C.C.I. and an exam. A lot of it depends on talent, obviously. The basics can be taught, but it is challenging. Lots of Herbology and Botany. They have huge greenhouses and gardens at the Academy, much larger than at Hogwarts. We used to brew barrels upon barrels of fertilizer at the beginning of each semester." He smiled at the memories. "It was really interesting, though. And I had a lot of fun. I ended up taking Advanced and Professional C.C.I., too."

There it was again, that look on Draco's face: alive and engaged. Harry could not remem-ber ever having him seen like this at Hogwarts and was glad that Draco's memories of his studies must be more pleasant than those of his school years. We both weren't really happy back then, he thought. Considering the constant stress they had been under, as a couple as well as as individuals, it was a miracle that they had managed to stay together at all after the curse had been lifted...

"What kind do you normally drink?"

Draco had returned to the pot, added the missing herbs to the stew and was now busy stirring, oblivious to Harry's attention.

Just like in Potions. Harry felt his heart constrict as a flood of memories welled up inside him, and this time he was unable to shut them all out.

Snape picking on him and Draco putting a hand on his arm to calm him down. Draco bent over a tricky potion, his lips moving silently as he counted the stirs. Harry himself, trying to decipher Snape's minuscule scrawls on the blackboard. Draco whispering not to worry, they'd go over it later. Later... Hands gliding over bare skin. Desire. His mouth on Draco's. Heat. Slender fingers slipping into his waistband to stroke the sensitive spot at the small of his back. Arousal...

He swallowed hard and shook his head. Tea. Draco had asked about tea.

"Redbush," he said, hoping that his voice sounded steadier than he felt. He found the kettle and filled it with water.

Draco studied the front of the cooker.

"How do you switch this thing on? Granger showed me something like this but it was... different."

Harry smiled, grateful for the distraction and glad that Draco was relaxed enough around him to ask how something Muggle worked.

"She probably showed you an electric. This one's gas."

He came and stood beside Draco.

"These little dots here show you which flame will be lit. To light, you just turn the knob a little until you hear a hiss, then push on it."

He demonstrated, acutely aware of Draco's presence. In Berlin. Right here. In his kitchen. It was a miracle that his brain seemed to be functioning on its normal level, because all this should be blowing his mind.

Draco did as shown. The flame under the pot hiss-clicked to life.

"Not a bad invention," he stated magnanimously, picking up the spoon again.

"You should have seen me the first time." Harry grinned. "All the other places where we lived had electric cookers, so I had no clue. I turned the knob all the way and waited too long before pushing. The flame must have been a hand high. I thought I'd set the kitchen on fire."

Draco sniggered and concentrated on the stew, finding himself wishing Harry would stay where he was, right next to him, close enough to be a... soothing presence but not too close. He felt his face heat up and quickly bent over the pot to mask his blush.

"Reminds me of Potions," Harry said softly, watching the mass swirl around in the pot, ingredients floating to the surface and sinking back to the bottom.

Draco swallowed and nodded, suddenly hit by the absurd wish that they were in Potions and it would be the last class of the day and they could look forward to a few... private moments in their quarters before going to dinner in the Great Hall... Merlin, Draco, he thought, get a grip! Yes, you miss him, and okay, it's been an eternity since you last had sex, but do you have to put those two things together right now?

"I never thought I'd miss school one day." He spoke quietly, more to himself than to Harry, staring at his fingers on the spoon, eyes slightly unfocussed, stirring. "Things seemed easier..." Round and round. "No real worries, unless you count O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s..." Clockwise. "You had your house..." Anti-clockwise. "You knew where you belonged..."

Harry remained silent beside him.

After a few moments, Draco blinked and shuddered slightly.

"So, Mr. Potter, tell me, what do you get when you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

A little startled, Harry looked up. Encountered a mischievous grin. He smiled.

"The Draught of Living Death."

Draco looked at him in an excellent imitation of Snape's most disapproving stare. "Tsk, tsk, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor..."

"What?"

"...for answering too quickly."

It was too much.

Harry poked him in the ribs.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Hi guys," a familiar voice said before Harry's gesture could sink in and lead to an extended period of self-consciousness. They both turned towards the door. With a sinking feeling, Harry wondered how long she had been standing there.

"Improving on my stew?"

Harry felt Draco tense slightly.

"I thought it could use some marjoram and caraway."

Star came over and scooped up a taster. Nodded appreciatively. "Thanks," she said and smiled at him. "I had a feeling something was missing, but I wasn't sure what."

Draco relaxed.

She turned around to hug and kiss Harry. "Had a nice day?" She stayed beside him and leaned her head against his for a moment, arms around his waist.

Harry smiled and hugged her back briefly, wondering what she was up to. It was not like Star to behave so... girlfriend-like.

"Yeah, it was fun," he said, looking at Draco - questioningly?

Draco felt confused, but he was also curious. He was not sure why, but in spite of the display of affection, these two didn't feel like a couple to him. If he was any judge of character, he would say from H... Potter's posture that there was definitely closeness here, yet something was missing. Not forgetting that Potter had said the woman was not his girlfriend. He wouldn't say something like that if it wasn't true. Although, she certainly behaved more like a girlfriend than a roommate. And she had seemed rather protective of Potter during Draco's first encounter with her. A bit like Pansy, he thought. But Potter in a casual, friends-with-benefits sort of relationship? It didn't seem like a Potter thing to do. But then again, people could change... And he better say something before they started wondering where his thoughts had wandered off to.

"Absolutely," he confirmed, keeping his eyes on the pot.

Star let go of Harry. "What did you two do today?" She stuck her head into a cupboard and began handing soup bowls to Harry who passed them to Draco, looked intently at a bowl, then at Draco, then lifted his chin towards the door. Draco nodded and began to dish out stew.

"Well, P... Harry here introduced me to the local cuisine, dragged me all over the place for two hours, and then treated me to a walk in the park."

"We had lunch at the Hardenberg, went on a sightseeing tour and to the Charlottenburg Palace afterwards," Harry translated, a little alarmed by the flip his heart seemed to do when he heard Draco say his given name.

"So how do you like Berlin, Draco?"

Star had turned her back on them and was rummaging around in the refrigerator.

"I haven't really seen enough of it to make up my mind."

"Well, then stay a while and let Harry drag you around some more." She smiled brightly.

Harry eyed her suspicously. What on earth was going on here?

"Did you buy butter, by any chance?"

Well, whatever it was, he would not find out until later.

"Check the bags. I haven't finished putting stuff away," Harry said, hoping that he and Draco could get out of the kitchen before any of the others came waltzing in. As much as he liked most of Star's friends, he really didn't feel like having dinner with any of them tonight.

Unfortunately, the piercing whistle of the kettle made that unlikely. Sighing inwardly, he took out a larger teapot. Might as well make enough for all of them.

The Conversation Piece

Half an hour later, they managed to escape the crowd in the kitchen.

Harry closed the door and leaned his back against it, blowing out his breath.

"A quiet place. Sure, Potter. Whatever."

Harry noted that the urge to poke Draco had been replaced by wanting to say "shut up". Lovely. Only a few hours with the pointy-faced git and old habits started re-emerging. Just great. And the little inner voice who whispered that Draco could certainly not be called pointy-faced anymore absolutely needed to, well, shut up.

"Sorry!"

"It's okay, really. They're a rather, er, eccentric group, aren't they?"

"That's putting it mildly. I normally call them the Mad Hatters."

Draco chuckled and looked around. The room was pleasant with light yellow walls, a high ceiling and large windows. Bookcases took up the space to the left and right of the door. The long wall on the right was dominated by an antique-looking wardrobe, the other one by a single bed. A desk underneath one of the windows on the wall opposite the door completed the furniture. The only... decorative piece in the room was what had to be an oversized black-and-white Muggle photograph above the bed. Draco wasn't sure what to make of it. It was the rear view of a woman standing in a doorframe, right arm raised, left arm relaxed by her side, slipping out of a shirt or robe she was holding with both hands, the translucent material covering her right arm and most of her lower back including her buttocks. What was visible of her left leg and her upper back appeared to be painted.

"Is this the only chair you've got in here?" He eyed the chair, wondering why it had wheels and how one would keep it from rolling off while sitting down.

"Afraid so. I normally don't need more than one chair to sit on. It's either that or the bed or the floor. Take your pick."

With an effort, Draco suppressed the remark that he had not intended to get into Potter's bed the first time they met after seven years. He certainly didn't want to sit on the bed and he didn't trust the chair. It had to be the floor, then. He sat down sideways, leaning against the bed. Harry pushed himself off the door and came over to sit opposite him.

Draco's eyes wandered to the photograph again. "That's an unusual picture," he ventured.

Harry smiled. "It's Star. Her brother Alex took it. He's a photographer."

Things were getting even more confusing, Draco thought, trying to process the fact that Potter had what technically qualified as a nude photograph of the woman he claimed was not his girlfriend on his wall. Above his bed, at that! And let's not forget: taken by her brother. Draco wasn't prudish, but if he had brothers or sisters, getting undressed in front of them for whatever reason would definitely be on his List of Things Siblings Shouldn't Do.

"It's... interesting. It must have taken a while to paint her like that."

"Paint her?" Harry looked puzzled. "Oh! That's not painted. It's a tattoo."

The first time he had seen it, it had almost rendered Harry speechless. The cobra's tail rested above her left ankle, the body wound its way around her leg, across her left buttock and up her back, where its head - hood flared, fangs ready to strike - covered most of the skin between her shoulderblades. It was a piece of art. Incredibly realistic, stunning, and... hot. So much so that he hadn't noticed he was speaking to it in Parseltongue until she asked him if he was okay. He had grinned and told her in all seriousness that he could talk to snakes. Of course she had thought he was joking - everybody knew that snakes were deaf, after all, weren't they? -, but the hours afterwards had been... educational.

"A what?"

"A tattoo. It is sort of a painting... stitched into the skin with a needle."

Draco looked shocked, and it took Harry a moment to realise what he must be thinking. A snake. Indelible. Received in pain. Damn! Why hadn't he seen this coming? He caught himself staring at Draco's forearms. Quickly dropped his gaze.

"It must... hurt when it's done," Draco said, shuddering.

Harry blinked. Perhaps the parallels to the Dark Mark were not quite as obvious as he thought, although he found it hard to imagine how Draco could miss them. On the other hand, Draco had seemed a little... out of sorts on several occasions today. Well, it couldn't be helped now. He had known that the old-friends-from-school show would have to end and had made up his mind a good while ago that we has not going to play games with Draco. It was time for a charge.

"Everything that leaves a mark hurts," he said quietly, not surprised to see Draco's glance flicker to his forehead where the scar - although faded - was still visible. He couldn't help but look at Draco's arms again. And he couldn't resist the urge to lean forward, care-ful not to enter Draco's personal space, just getting close enough that he could, for the briefest moment, brush the light, smooth skin with his fingertips.

"Were you ever... Marked?"

Draco startled at the contact but held his gaze for a moment before lowering his eyes to the floor. "I was never... summoned into the ranks," he said, keeping his tone carefully neutral, part of him wishing Potter would ask further questions, another part hoping he wouldn't, and all of him feeling the reverberations of Potter's touch.

"That's... good," Harry said and fell silent again. He tried to suppress the question that had presented itself immediately after Draco's answer but failed.

"Do you know why not?" he asked calmly, keeping his eyes on Draco's face.

"Father took care of it. I don't know why or how." Draco glanced at him. "But I'm glad he did."

Harry nodded and swallowed. "So am I," he said, feeling grateful and relieved and awk-ward and hopeful, all at the same time.

They both stared at the floor some more until Silence cleared her throat and they couldn't help but look up, although neither of them knew what to say at this point, and the whole situation was on the verge of becoming extremely awkward. Only it didn't, because for some reason neither of them could suppress a sheepish smile when they looked at each other, which Silence took as the hint to politely depart.

Draco gestured at the photograph.

"Why would anybody in their right mind want to do something like that?"

"I have no idea. I mean, I can understand people who get small tattoos as decoration, but large ones like Star's..." Harry shrugged. "I guess that's something for extreme eccen-trics."

"And having a nude picture of your not-exactly-girlfriend above your bed isn't eccen-tric?"

"No. That's probably just plain weird." Harry laughed. "It makes a great conversation piece, though."

Draco admitted to himself that he didn't really care about this, erm, conversation piece. He'd much rather learn more about Potter's relationship with its subject. Unfortunately, his Slytherin brain seemed unable to come up with an inconspicuous way of obtaining such information. On the other hand, chances were that he'd still be here tomorrow if he tried subtle methods. He, of all people, should know that they didn't work on Gryffindors. With the possible exception of Granger, who was a pleasantly quick thinker. Oh sod it!

"All right, Potter, enlighten me. What precisely is a not-exactly-girlfriend?"