Found, Never Lost

Chapter 7: Of Monsters and Men

Sunday, June 20, 2004
Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, approx. 10:00

The thought of braving the hotel restaurant had made Draco a little nervous, but breakfast turned out to be another interesting - and for the most part quite tasty - experience.

All in all, things were going better than expected. It made sense what Granger had told him in London and Potter had affirmed yesterday: big cities attracted so many different people and the denizens were so used to visitors and tourists from all over the world that it was easy to blend in - or to simply disappear in the crowds. He could probably wear robes around here without attracting much attention.

Most people he had encountered so far seemed open-minded and fairly helpful, some-times even friendly. Potter had claimed that this was because Germans, no, Berliners - whatever the difference - tended to be nice to polite young Britons. Draco suspected that it had more to do with Potter's ready smile. But whatever the reason, it appeared that Muggles were just as susceptible to charm as wizards, which was good to know.

Draco leaned back in his chair and slowly sipped his tea.

Yesterday had definitely been pleasant and much easier than anticipated. They had touched several potentially disastrous topics and managed to manoeuvre around them, both shying away from in-depth dicussions, yet exchanging important information in the process. The question was, what had they learned about each other? Or rather, what did he know about Harry Potter now that he had not known before?

There were the mere facts, of course: Harry was studying for some Muggle degree by way of something called "distance learning" and "online classes" - which probably explained why he owned more books on more subjects than Draco would have expected. He worked in an English-speaking pub Thursday through Monday nights, whereas his roommate-girlfriend held a jumble of temp jobs and gave guitar lessons unless she was playing or performing, which apparently didn't happen often enough to provide a regular income. They had moved several times and lived with a host of other people over the past four years, even with Star's brother and his wife for a while. They had done a good deal of travelling, but this was their first time living outside England and the first time they had a flat to themselves.

More importantly, he had learned that Harry's relationship with Star, although not devoid of attachment, was not "marriage material", for lack of a better word. He had also learned that Harry did not intend to live as a Muggle forever and that he was getting tired of moving around. Which was encouraging.

However, most important was that Harry seemed willing to leave the past behind. That he wanted to talk to Draco and spend time with him (so much so that he had taken off from work for a couple of days). Be close to him. Even touch him. Draco swallowed and closed his eyes, struggling to clear his head. Their brief physical contacts had left him longing and aching, even after he had relieved the sheer physical pressure, and he envied Harry, who had somebody to help him cope with sexual tension.

Although, fact was that he didn't want just anyone to help him cope. He was tired of casual sex and meaningless affairs. True, sometimes anybody was better than nobody, but in the end, everybody left him wanting, missing the closeness and trust he had shared with Harry. He had thought about this a lot over the past seven years. As a matter of fact, every new lover had been a new cause to contemplate what had been so special about his relationship with Harry, and he thought he finally knew the answer: They had felt safe.

Safe enough to get angry with each other and argue viciously; to shout and storm out of rooms and slam doors; to be on opposing Quidditch teams and race each other to the Snitch just as fiercely, possibly even more fiercely than ever; to be paired in Defense Against the Dark Arts and end up in the hospital wing because their tempers had flared and practicing shielding spells had turned into a full-blown duel. Safe enough to have fantastic make-up sex. Or simply to have fantastic sex...

A waitress appeared to clear his table, and when she interrupted his musings by asking if he would like another cup of tea, things suddenly became almost painfully... real. Her heavily accented English seemed to force him into the reality of where he was, followed by the question why he was here.

What was he looking for? What did he want?

Until yesterday, he had not been sure about his motives and his answers had been corre-spondingly vague. Now he was beginning to think that he was here to find out if the memories of their relationship were merely figments of his sentimental imagination or if he had really shared something unique with Harry, something that could not be recreated with anybody else. There was, of course, the possibility that he had been idealising the past to avoid the present. But maybe there had been a special connection between them after all - and maybe it was still there.

Nobody had ever got under his skin and made him feel as alive as the bloody Boy Who Lived. Of course, nobody had ever infuriated and frustrated him like bespectacled, insuf-ferable Harry Potter, either, but that was neither here nor there. To be with Harry, he had risked - and suffered - his father's wrath; yet, in the end, in spite of everything they had been through together, he hadn't had the courage to leave his family. Because he had not realised that this was about siding with Harry. Not with the Order or the Ministry of Magic and its Aurors or Dumbledore's Army. With Harry, the Boy Who Apparently Lived To Turn His World Upside Down With A Smile Or Inside Out With A Touch - which was such an unbelievably soppy thought that he resolved to practice Occlumency very diligently from now on to ensure that nobody could ever find out about it - or about anything else he'd been thinking of in the last twenty minutes, really.

And wasn't it ironic how life repeated itself in a way? Because here he was, about to spend another day with his... ex. Mother would probably cast Petrificus Totalus on him and Locomotor him straight into the deepest dungeon of the Manor if she knew, and Father - well, if Father weren't in Azkaban, he would no doubt come up with something unpleasant, too. But fact was that he didn't care. He didn't even want to think about it right now, because a glance at his watch told him that it was almost ten o'clock. Harry had always been more of a morning person than Draco. He should be up by now.

Berlin-Charlottenburg, around 12:00

"What are you going to do today?" Harry asked when he hugged her good-bye. "Get ready for tomorrow?"

"Yeah. The guys are coming to pick me up for practice in a little bit and then we'll come back here to go over some stuff."

"I'll see you later then?"

She nodded and kissed his cheek and pushed him gently towards the door. "Have fun. And tell the snakes I said hi."

He laughed. "I will."

She closed the door behind him.

Yes, she would definitely miss him. But now was not the time to dwell on something that might or might not happen. What would be would be. Until then, she would concentrate on here and now.

Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, approx. 12:45

Same procedure as yesterday, Harry thought and grinned as he approached Draco who was sitting in the middle of the lobby again, lowering The Times when Harry stepped in front of him. Only this time, instead of looking him up and down, Draco greeted him with a smile. And Harry thought that no matter what happened from here on out, that smile had just made his day.

"Ready?"

He cocked his head at Draco who looked at him quizzically.

"Use your brain, Potter. Would I be sitting here if I weren't?"

"Probably not." Harry grinned. "Let's go."

Just like the previous day, the newspaper was carefully folded and placed back on the side table. Draco had always been fastidious - a thought that was followed by a rapid succession of mental images. Draco tidying up Harry's desk with a flick of his wand... accusing Harry of hiding an important essay to be offered an "incentive" to help look for it... constantly misplacing his school tie... spelling them clean after a hurried groping session between classes... And he better return his thoughts to the present. Right now!

"What gave you the idea to go to the aquarium?" he asked, honestly curious why Draco had suggested this particular activity.

Draco shrugged. "I asked the receptionist. The aquarium sounded more interesting than a museum. Why? Did you want to go somewhere else?"

"No. Not at all," Harry assured him, inwardly batting at the treacherous little voice which had just piped up that he didn't care where they went as long as it was with him.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Draco found the ride on the underground not quite as stressful this time. There seemed to be less people and less noise. Maybe he was getting used to the crowds. Or maybe he was simply paying less attention to them because he was much more aware of Harry's physi-cal presence than yesterday. And if his reflections during breakfast this morning were any indication, it was definitely the latter.

They reached their destination with only one noteworthy incident when a group of uni-formed Muggles - some of them accompanied by large, vicious-looking dogs - boarded the train right before it departed. People immediately started rummaging around in pock-ets and purses, Harry included. It took Draco some effort not to slide closer to him when the uniforms started barking in German.

"Ticket check," Harry explained.

A uniform inspected their tickets. Its dog inspected their feet.

Draco was not aware that he had been holding his breath throughout the examination until the pair passed on and he slowly exhaled.

Harry grinned and glanced around the crowded compartment before he leaned slightly towards Draco and murmured conspiratorially,"If you think these are bad, be glad you never encountered Fluffy."

"Fluffy?"

"One of Hagrid's, er, little darlings."

Draco grimaced. "He can't have been worse than the hippogriffs," he muttered under his breath, rubbing the spot where his arm had been slashed without realising it because he was too distracted by the fact that Harry's shoulder was touching his.

Harry chuckled. "Believe me, Buckbeak was lovable compared to Fluffy. We need to change trains here, by the way." He gestured towards the door and they stood up.

"Fluffy was a dog the size of a Shire horse. With three heads. Actually, I was quite fond of him," he continued when they were out of earshot and laughed at Draco's incredulous stare. "He bit Snape. In first year."

Draco looked at him, puzzled, then comprehension dawned. "Oh! Was that why he walked around with a limp for a week and took points even from Slytherin?"

Harry nodded, grinning. "That's one of the two fond memories I have of Snape."

"Hmm, if the first is of him getting mauled, I'm not sure I want to know the second one."

"Okay. I won't tell you then."

Harry led the way up a flight of stairs to another part of the station, waiting for Draco's curiosity to get the better of him, which took only a few steps: "Worse than being bitten by a three-headed dog?"

"Much worse." Harry paused for effect. "I brewed a perfect anti-acne potion in my last Potions exam."

Draco sniggered. "Now that I would have liked to see. You brewing a perfect potion!"

"Very funny!"

Draco felt a bit abashed at Harry's slightly offended expression. "Snape must have been floored," he offered as amends.

Harry grinned. "His face was absolutely priceless. I expected him to start frothing at the mouth any second."

"I never understood why he hated you so much."

"Neither did I. He had reason to hate my father, though. From what I've heard, those two did worse things to each other in one month than you and I did in six years. I guess I inherited Snape's dislike from my dad. It probably came with the hair and the glasses."

They both laughed and it did not occur to either of them until later that they had just sailed past several more potentially difficult topics.