Found, Never Lost

Chapter 5: Pieces of Conversation

Still Saturday, June 19, 2004

Harry hugged his knees to his chest and looked out the window. He had expected Draco to ask about his relationship with Star. People always did, sooner or later. Nobody really knew what to make of them. Which was not surprising, because sometimes they them-selves didn't know.

"I don't know," he said lamely. "Girlfriend somehow doesn't... feel right."

Draco looked at him curiously. He had not really expected an explanation, but he had hoped for a reaction that showed him whether or not Potter was willing to talk about this sort of thing. Apparently he was. Good.

"So?" he prompted, "tell me about her."

"What do you want to know?"

"Heavens, Potter, am I the first person to ask you this?"

"Of course not. I just never know what to say."

Draco gave him a quizzical look. "You have nothing to say about the woman with whom you live and share a bed?"

"That's not what you asked me," Harry pointed out. "You basically asked why I don't call her my girlfriend."

"And? Why don't you?"

"Oh come on, you've met her! Does she strike you as a girlfriend-like person?"

Draco shrugged. "That depends on what you consider girlfriend-like."

"Did you consider Pansy your girlfriend?"

"Er..."

"Why not?"

Draco opened his mouth. Closed it again. "Touché," he finally said, grinning.

"So what do you want to know?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Potter, what do you normally tell people?" Draco asked with an impatient gesture. "How about... how old she is or where she is from? How did you meet her? What does she do for a living?"

"Well, that's easy enough." Harry made himself more comfortable against the bed. "She's thirty years old. Her father is American and her mother German. I met her through a flat-share ad when I was looking for a place to stay after the Dursleys. We live together, but we have very different lives." He shrugged. "She is out of town a lot, recording or play-ing with bands."

"She's a musician?"

Harry nodded. "She plays the guitar. Rather well, actually. She can pull off quite a show, too. And she loves to be the center of attention. She's the type of person who walks into a room full of people and knows most everybody's name by the end of the party. It's quite something."

"Sounds like she has a fitting first name, then."

"Huh? Oh, you mean... No. Star is just a stage name. I've never heard her tell anyone her real given name." He grinned. "I suspect she sometimes actually forgets what it is. She probably had to look it up in her passport before we signed the leasing contract."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Considering that the woman has a snake stencilled across her arse, I dare say this is a minor eccentricity."

Harry laughed.

"True! But without her, I would have never been to so many places and met so many people and learned so much in such a short time."

He looked thoughtful for a moment and turned serious again.

"She doesn't let herself be pushed around. By anybody. I've seen her stare down men twice her size. I never worry about her when she's on the road because I know she can take care of herself. If you ask her a question, you'll get an honest answer. She hates lies and she doesn't play mind games. I guess that's why I find her so easy to get along with."

Draco chuckled. "You know what you're up against."

"Exactly. God knows I've had enough lies and mind games to last me a lifetime."

"So... not a Slytherin, then?" Draco smirked.

Harry laughed. "Definitely not!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I still haven't answered the first question, though, have I?"

"Not really. But I think I'm getting a general idea."

Harry rested his chin on his knees and let his thoughts drift off again. Eventually, he looked back up at Draco.

"I guess you could call it... an intimate friendship without romantic hassles."

"Sounds like Pansy and me," Draco thought aloud, "housemates with benefits."

Harry looked out the window for a long moment. True, he thought, his relationship with Star had never been a mutually exclusive one. They were both free to pursue other... interests if they so chose, which they both had, occasionally. On the other hand, he was fairly certain he wouldn't still live with her if they didn't trust and respect each other; if there were no attachment or feelings of belonging between them. If she didn't care about him, she wouldn't have suggested to rent their own place when he balked at the idea of another flatshare. And he definitely would not have come to Berlin with her if he didn't feel... committed? Although, no, that wasn't quite the right word either. Which was exactly what made answering questions about his relationship with Star so difficult.

"Could be," he finally said and shrugged. "I didn't see you two together enough to know. I would say that living together for four years qualifies as more than just 'mates with benefits', but we're definitely an unusual couple." He looked up, expecting a smirk or a sneer, but instead, he encountered something like... nervousness in Draco's face. He blinked.

Draco chewed the inside of his lower lip, wondering how to best word the question that had been jumping up and down in the back of his mind for a few minutes now. Regard-less of Potter's hesitancy to classify his relationship as the friends-with-benefits-variety, he didn't see how it was all that different from what he'd had with Pansy during their school years. Apparently Potter thought there was more to it, though. The question was how much more. And how could he find out without being too obvious? He glanced at Potter who looked... confused. Finally he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone, "So are you two in for the long haul then?"

Harry felt a knot in his stomach loosen, quite to his surprise, because he hadn't noticed it was there in the first place. "You mean marriage?"

"I don't know." Draco shrugged, trying to keep his face noncommittal. "Isn't that what you always wanted?"

Potter's face split into a smile that, for some reason, made Draco's heart speed up.

"Hearts and flowers and kids, huh?"

"What?"

"Never mind." Potter looked at him with a peculiar expression. "I guess I still want to, some day. But not in this world," he said after a brief pause.

It was Draco's turn to look confused. Not in this world? What world was he...

"Come on, Draco! Can you really imagine me living as a Muggle for the rest of my life? Or marrying someone I can never tell about the Wizarding world unless our child gets the letter from Hogwarts?"

Harry laughed at him and Draco might have bristled a bit at that if he hadn't been startled by hearing his given name from Potter's lips for the first time since they had met at the hotel. And by realising how good it felt. And by wondering if Potter felt the same kind of... warmth when he called him Harry.

"We both know that we won't be together forever. We get along well enough, but we're too different. She's not the type to settle down and I'm not the type to tramp around the globe for much longer." He looked as if he was about to say something else, then changed his mind and closed his mouth again.

They were silent for a while.

"How... about you?" Harry finally asked cautiously, studying his toes. He had been wondering if Draco's long hair meant that he was married, but the question seemed too personal to be brought up out of context, and so far their conversations had revolved around other topics. Even now he could not bring himself to ask directly.

"Am I in a relationship? No. I've had... affairs, if you want to call it that. When I was in Prague. Nothing of consequence. And nobody since I moved back to Wiltshire."

Harry glanced at him, not sure how to respond. Although in many ways distant from his peers, Draco had always been a sociable and... sensual person. It must be hard for him to be holed up at Malfoy Manor with his mother. Harry wished he could offer some comfort but had no idea what to do. Draco hated pity even more than concern or worries.

"So you've... you're back at the Manor? How is your mother?" He briefly considered asking if Narcissa Malfoy knew where her son was, but thought it better not to.

Draco shrugged, picking at a loose thread in the bedspread.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"Why? Has she been ill?" The mental image of Draco holed up with his bedridden mother was even more worrisome than the previous one.

Draco scoffed. "No. But a husband in prison and the Ministry of Magic hovering above your home like a pack of vultures do not exactly make for carefree living, Potter."

Harry flinched at the acrid tone - and at the realisation that they were headed for danger-ous territory again, because he was at least partially responsible for both issues.

"You have to blame me for the vultures, I suppose," he said, silently asking Draco to please let them talk about his father some other time.

Draco snorted. "Don't be daft. If the Wizengamot hadn't listened to you, the vultures would have been hyenas and there would be no estate left by now."

Harry relaxed a bit. It was true, he supposed. He had vehemently opposed the indiscrimi-nate confiscation of Death Eater property and had, with Hermione's help, managed to win enough support for a different solution.

"Well, if you look at it that way..."

"Is there any other way to look at it?"

Harry shrugged and they fell silent again, both lost in their own thoughts.

"You did a good thing," Draco finally said. "If you hadn't been so persistent..."

Now it was Harry's turn to snort. "You mean stubborn. And it wasn't a good thing. It was just the right thing to do. Ministries can't just go around commandeering people's prop-erty, no matter what they have done. That's not justice. Next thing you know, they'll start inventing new crimes or raise sentences and convict people out of greed." He scowled at Draco. "And don't look at me like that! It has happened in the Muggle world and I see no reason why it couldn't happen in ours."

"Harry Potter - still the righteous Gryffindor hero," Draco teased, but he sounded good-natured and his smirk quickly turned into a genuine smile. Harry had no idea what had caused this mood swing, but it was good to feel on firmer ground again. And he had got another "Harry" out of Draco. Things were looking up.

He smirked back.

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks."

Call Me?
Around 21:00

Draco stifled a yawn.

"Getting tired?"

"Yeah. It's been a long day. What time is it?"

"Almost nine. Do you want me to take you back to the hotel or call you a taxi?"

"Taxi will be fine, thanks."

Harry went to make the phone call and Draco got up to stretch. Daylight was slowly fading but it could take another thirty minutes before it would be really dark. He walked over to the window, glancing at the desk when he passed it. He had been surprised by the relative tidiness of the room, which was probably explained by the lack of furniture upon which to dump things. The desk, however, was another matter, although Draco had to admit that it wasn't quite as bad as it had been at school: some of its top was visible.

Unable to curb his curiosity he inched a little closer, just enough to read the titles of some of the books that were scattered across the surface. Most seemed to be textbooks but there was one that caught his attention: The Cupboard Under the Stairs. Unfortunately, it was half-buried under a loose-leaf binder and a tome titled The Holocaust - whatever that was - so that he couldn't take a closer look. And he would have very much liked to take a closer look because, if memory served him correctly, Harry's Muggle relatives had made him sleep in such a place until they found out that he was a wizard. Savages! he thought grimly. It seemed rather unlikely that the title of the book was a coincidence, but he couldn't very well ask Potter.

He heard footsteps in the hall and quickly stepped away from the desk.

"Your cab should be here shortly. I'll walk you downstairs."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Afraid I might get lost in the stairwell?"

Harry could think of several ambiguous answers to that, but he bit his tongue. "Some of our neighbors have the habit of locking the entrance door after eight o'clock. Then you'd have to climb all the way back up here and I'd still have to walk you down. So I might as well do it now." He noted with satisfaction that Draco looked a little abashed.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Fifth floor.

Fourth floor.

Third floor.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I don't know yet."

Second floor.

"Care for some company?"

"Sure."

Ground floor.

"Call me when you get up?"

"Okay."

Entrance door.

Locked.

"Told you so."

"Shut up."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Draco looked after Harry, speechless, his skin prickling where Harry had touched him. He had been unsure whether to say "Good-bye" or "Good-night" or anything at all. And in what way. He probably would have settled for a simple "See you tomorrow". He defi-nitely wouldn't have done something like that.

Lost in thought, he got into the waiting car. With a polite smile, he handed the driver the card of his hotel, not bothering to say more than "Good evening" this time. Heavens, how long had it been since someone had touched him? Definitely way too long if the briefest of hugs made him tingle all over!

Draco let out a deep breath. He was wide awake now. Maybe he should ring Granger and let her know how the day had gone.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Harry made it to the third floor landing before he had to stop and lean against the wall for a moment, trying to process the fact that he had just hugged Draco. It had been very short, true, but he had hugged him. He touched his chest where it had been in contact with Draco's. His heart was hammering - and not because he had been taking two steps at a time as soon as he was out of Draco's sight.

He slowly resumed his way up the stairs, breathing to the count of steps, four in, four out, willing his pulse to slow down. He really should think about things they could do tomor-row. But he couldn't help it. As brief as the physical contact had been, his body reminded him forcefully that he had not forgotten the passionate embraces of the past. He remem-bered Draco's hands on him; skin gliding down naked skin; lips following paths mapped by exploring fingers; the sudden tug below his navel when the anticipation of touches and kisses became reality in sensitive spots. Behind his ear. Along his neck. On the inside of a wrist... or a thigh...

Stop this! he told himself firmly. You've lived happily without him for years. What's the matter with you all of a sudden? And the treacherous little voice in the back of his mind that pointed out how familiar Draco had smelled and how right it had felt to touch him needed to shut up!

By the time he reached the top floor, he felt a little more like himself. Still, he was glad to find the girls back in the kitchen, chatting and washing up. At least he had an excuse to stay up a while longer now. He was fairly certain he didn't want to go to bed any time soon.

"Want a cup of coffee?" Star raised the French press invitingly. He smiled and joined her at the counter. Accepted the steaming mug she handed him.

"Everything all right?" she asked quietly. He swallowed and nodded but couldn't hold her gaze for long. She touched his cheek.

"We'll talk later, okay?"

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close for a moment.

"Okay."

Berlin, approx. 22:00 (21:00 London)

"Granger."

"Malfoy?"

Who would have thought he'd ever feel anything positive at the sound of her voice?

"Are you... Is everything all right?"

Draco snorted. "Don't do the mother hen thing, Granger, it's annoying."

"My, my, aren't we in a cheery mood tonight. What's the matter with you?"

She was right. What was the matter with him? Draco worried his lower lip, not sure what to say. He still wasn't used to having civil conversations with Granger.

"Sorry," he muttered.

On the other end, Hermione was more than a bit surprised. She had not expected to hear from him so soon. Had something gone wrong? Should she ask him if he had seen Harry? Surely that could not hurt?

"Did you speak to Harry?" she asked cautiously.

"We met for lunch."

"And?"

"We went sightseeing."

"And?"

"And we had dinner together."

Hermione was beginning to wonder if there were such things as long-distance hexes.

"Draco Malfoy," she said in her sternest I'm-Eight-Months-Pregnant-Don't-Mess-With-Me tone, "if you expect me to worm every little detail out of you, this is not going to be a pleasant conversation for you."

To her surprise, she heard brief laughter.

"Point taken, Granger."

She sighed and got comfortable in the big squashy armchair by the fireplace. At this time of the year the fireplace wasn't lit, of course, but it was her favourite spot anyway.

"So you spent the day together?"

"Yes. I just got back a few minutes ago."

"How is he doing? I mean, does he seem okay?"

"Everything is fine. He looks good. It was a very... pleasant day. We... did a lot of catching-up."

Something in his voice was beginning to bother her. He sounded...

"Granger, have you ever heard of a book called The Cupboard Under the Stairs?"

Thank goodness she was already sitting!

"Yes," she said cautiously, "why?"

"He had a copy on his desk and it reminded me... It seems a bit much of a coincidence, don't you think?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She had a feeling she knew where this conversation was going and she didn't like it much, but the Sorting Hat hadn't put her in Gryffindor for nothing.

"It's not a coincidence."

Draco bit back the question who had to worm information out of whom now. He had not called her to argue.

"What do you know about it?"

"It's the dissertation of Dr. Susan Crane. She's a psychiatrist and counselling psycholo-gist. She did extensive research on childhood neglect and its effects on puberty and early adulthood. She developed a new form of psychotherapy for the victims. Harry was one of her main study and test subjects."

"In English, please."

"Psychotherapy. It's a Muggle way of coping with traumatising experiences. Like what Harry went through with the Dursleys. I'll spare you the technicalities."

Draco decided to ignore her waspish tone.

"Well, that explains some things, I suppose," he remarked dryly.

She straightened up. "What do you mean?"

"No need to get alarmed, Granger. He seems much... calmer than he used to be. Less angry. Just, well, more stable... He's happy, I suppose," he finished impatiently, not really interested in this conversation. There was something he wanted to know and he didn't feel like playing games with Granger.

"Did you know that he's living with someone?"

Hermione hesitated. She could have stalled and asked why he was asking, but that wouldn't have been fair. She should have shared her suspicions with Draco before he left, but she hadn't and now he needed to know the truth, even if it made her look bad.

"He mentioned a roommate on the telephone this morning." She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if it was the same person he was living with when the book was pub-lished."

"Very Slytherin answer, Granger," he sneered. "If that person's name was Star, then yes, they're still... together."

Hermione was taken aback for a moment.

"You mean like...?"

"Yes. Well, sort of, at least. You could have warned me, Granger."

"I... I honestly didn't know. I... came across the name in... when I was trying to find his address. But he never mentioned anybody in his letters..." She immediately berated her-self for the faux pas.

"Letters?" Draco's voice sounded... strange.

"Well, not really letters. He sent me little notes once or twice a year, just to say hello and let me know that he was okay. He never wrote much. I guess he thought we might find him if he did... I should have told you, but I was so excited when I did find him that it completely slipped my mind." She felt her eyes fill with tears and rubbed at them furi-ously. "I am really sorry, Malfoy." God, being pregnant had turned her into such a cry-baby!

"Don't start bawling on me, Granger," he said tartly. "I'm not blaming you, although you really should have told me."

For some reason, that didn't make things better. Her eyes brimmed over and she had to excuse herself, leaving Draco rather baffled and wondering what on earth had gotten into her.

A Starry Night
Around midnight

"Boy, that was quick!"

Harry's breathing was evening out slowly. "Maybe you're just good with your mouth."

She chuckled and nestled close to him and they kissed for a while, the frantic clashing of mouths and teeth a few minutes ago now replaced by soft, slow caresses of lips and tongues.

"Tell me about today," she finally said. "What happened that got you so hot and both-ered?"

Harry felt his face heat up.

"What?"

"Oh, come on, Harry. How long have we been together? Three years? Don't you think I can tell by now whether you're, uh, sated or not? And there's really no need to be embar-rassed about it."

If anything, this made him blush even more.

"Don't say that! It makes it worse."

"I think it's sweet." She smiled and kissed him on the neck. "Now tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened." He sighed. "I guess it's just old memories."

She touched his face and he nuzzled into her palm, closing his eyes.

"Old memories?" Her voice was soothing, encouraging.

God, how he wished he could tell her the truth. Tell her about the curse that had forced Draco and him into a bond, the wizard equivalent of Muggle marriage, in their seventh year at Hogwarts. Tell her about how they had struggled to overcome the deep-rooted animosity between them and the conflict within their world that was the basis for their enmity. Tell her about his inner turmoil and his battles against the bond's demands for... consummation. How he had slowly come to terms with the physical aspects of their rela-tionship, only to discover that sex was by far the easiest part of it. How Draco's father had found the caster of the curse and their bond had been dissolved. How they had tried to pick up their lives where they had left off, found that they couldn't and eventually got back together.

Old memories...

"Of our time at boarding school," he said slowly. "Little things. How it felt sitting next to him in class. Or what we used to do in the afternoons. Like working out, or studying, or being in the library, or spending time with classmates..."

He was silent for a moment, playing with her fingers.

"I... hugged him good-bye tonight and... he smelled so familiar..." He closed his eyes and swallowed, squeezed her hand. "And it felt... I don't know... it felt so right some-how."

"Did you love him?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know. Back then I certainly didn't call it that. He is... from old money and his parents were very... upset when they found out about us. He is their only child and they have drilled the son-and-heir-routine into him his whole life. We fought about stupid politics all the time. The main thing that kept us together was sex. And in the end I couldn't stand the fights anymore and walked out on him. We were only together for a few months and we haven't as much as written each other in seven years. Now he shows up and suddenly it feels like... my life is about to be turned upside down or some-thing."

"Well, that's probably overdramatising it a bit," she said and removed her hand from his grip.

"I just don't understand it," he said, a little exasperated. "I mean, it was a... school fling. We were seventeen, for God's sake. You lock up a bunch of teenagers in a boarding school and that's what you get. Hormones."

"Oh please! Don't make me pull the river in Egypt on you. That one's so old, it has a beard a mile long."

"All right, all right, Sigmunda!" He laughed and reclaimed her hand. "What am I in denial about this time?"

"That your relationship was more than just a school fling, of course. I think he meant much more to you than you want to admit."

His face took on a stubborn expression. "But we couldn't stand each other for the better part of six years. It was basically hate at first sight! We were sworn enemies. We hurt each other any chance we got and... What? Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're being silly. Think about it: would he be here if you'd been nothing but an attack of hormones to him? Anyway... As I told you yesterday: it's obvious that you have issues to resolve, otherwise neither of you can truly move on with his life."

"Easier said than done."

"Not really. In case you've forgotten: I'm going to Hamburg Monday morning with Martin and the others to work on some new music. We'll be back Friday afternoon. That should give you plenty of time."

He stared at her. "You know, I really don't understand you sometimes. First you get all girlfriend-ish with me this afternoon, then you switch on the charm with Draco, and now you're reminding me that you'll be out of town for a week. What's up with that? Am I missing something here?"

"Well, duh! How else would I know that you two have unfinished business? You got all flustered when I, um, cuddled you, and he looked ready to spit in my stew." She laughed at him from her resting place on his shoulder. "So do you think a week is enough to work things out between the two of you?"

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Only that you get to the bottom of whatever it is that brought him here and got you so... agitated."

Her grin was almost roguish, Harry thought.

"And if that involves asking him to spend a few days somewhere less... impersonal than a hotel - well, then that's what it takes."

Yes, definitely roguish!

"That's a prescription for disaster, Frau Doktor." He sighed and pulled her closer.

"Nah! Won't be that bad. Could be a prescription for interesting times, though."

"Isn't that a Chinese curse?"

She pushed herself up on one elbow and looked at him sternly.

"Listen to me, Harry! Just spending a few hours with the guy and hugging him good-bye got you so worked up that it took a shag and a blowjob to halfway calm you down. And even the remote possibility of being alone with him for a couple of days affects you. You need to find out what you want from each other. Now, from what I've seen and heard tonight, I'd say that talking's only part of it. Not that I mind. You know I don't. Actually, you two probably look hot together. Alex would sell his soul to get you in front of his camera."

She laughed at his scandalised face. "No need to look at me like that! It's simple aesthet-ics. I admit I'm biased, but you're easy enough on the eyes. And he's not bad-looking for a blond."

Harry covered his face with his free hand and groaned. He really, really didn't want to hear this. If only she weren't right about the... effects. Bugger!

She smiled and nipped his earlobe. "You know I would never try to keep you away from anything or anybody that could make you happy." Her mouth started moving down his neck. "Now, do you want me to take advantage of you some more or do you want me to keep talking?"

"Unless this is a trick question...," he managed, "you know the answer." Her lips unerr-ingly found another sensitive area. "You... ah... always remember my weak spots."

She muttered something into his neck that sounded like "I bet he does too", but before he could ask what she had said she pulled him on top of her and he decided he didn't really need to know right now.