Sacrifice

Chapter One
The Return of an Old Friend

Oliver Wood, reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United, watched with trepidation as the hooded figure came up the path. He snuck away from the window, and tried to crouch behind a chair, not wanting to be seen.

Boom. The bolted door fell forward as if someone simply had merely pushed on it. Oliver flinched, not wanting to be caught.

"Expelliarmus," the figure said the moment he entered the house, and watched as the smooth wand flew into his hand. "Oliver Wood," the man said with little pity. "I expected more of you. The last house I visited there were five of my former...collegues. I would have expected that you would have had the rest of your friends here."

"There are none left. You've killed all of them," Oliver spat in return, not bothering to hide his contempt. "And you betrayed all of us when you killed our Master."

"Correct. I did betray all of you. But I achieved what I wanted to. The death of our Master." The last word was strung out, and hatred for all of the pain caused by that one entity filtered into the speaker's voice.

"And what good will it do? If you go back to them, they will turn you in, and then where will you go? To Azkaban. You will have wasted your life." Oliver stood and faced the man standing there.

"I will not have wasted anything. I achieved my goals, and now I need to go back. Don't you think I knew the risks when I went over to the Dark Lord? I'm not stupid, you know. I didn't get to be Voldemort's second for nothing. I'm not the person you once knew, Oliver."

Oliver lifted his face, and spat into the other man's cloak. A gloved hand reached up and wiped the spittle off of his face. "You'll pay for that," the cloaked man said calmly.

"What are you going to do about it, huh? You've gone good, and now you can't use the Killing Curse, because of your values."

A hand reached into the cloak and pulled out a small leather bound book. "This will be my protection. Now, if I remember correctly, the Aurors can use the Killing Curse when necessary. Although I confess that I am not an Auror, I think that in this case they'll make an exception. Avada Kedavra!" A band of green light shot of the hooded man's wand and hit Oliver Wood in the chest. His face twisted into a smile, and he crumpled to the floor.

"Oliver Wood. Who would have ever thought that I would have to kill you?" Who would have thought that I would have to betray all that I believed in and all that I loved to achieve the death of the Dark Lord? the man asked himself, before Disapparating with a pop.

Hermione's sleep that night was restless. For the past week, she kept having the same dream, over and over again. It took her back to Hogwarts, but it was not a pleasant memory of the last week of their seventh year.

"Harry, stop right there and listen to me!" Hermione called out to Harry. Harry whirled around just before the boys' dormitory stairs and stared at her, murder in his eyes.

"What do you want, Hermione?" His voice dripped poison.

"I just want the three of us to be friends again, Harry. We've lost contact with you. You seem so-distant now. What happened to you, Harry?"

"I can't tell you," he finally replied. For a moment Hermione could see that she had wounded her friend, but that moment passed and the more familiar angry Harry had come back.

"Why not?"

"Is it really any of your business what I do with my time, Granger?" Hermione's mind reeled. He had never called her that in his entire time at Hogwarts. Never.

"Harry, I don't care about Draco. I care about you. You're my friend. I know that Ron and I have been spending a lot of time together --"

"Playing Tonsil Quidditch," he said, challenging her.

"And I feel like we've driven you away." She began to cross the common room and put her hand on Harry's left arm. "Why don't we all go to Hagrid's tomorrow morning and just talk for a while? We haven't--" Hermione met Harry's gaze after a moment, and froze at what she saw in it. Rather than his jovial green gaze, his eyes were frozen, cold and hard. His face was drawn and tight, and he was breathing heavily, almost as if he was having a hard time controlling his body.

"Don't touch me, Mudblood." She felt his arm pull away, and watched as he walked up the stairs, but she couldn't process any of the information. For a long time she stood there in the common room, not able to think about what had just transpired. When her brain began to finally process what had happened, she simply couldn't believe what had occurred.

The hooded figure Apparated onto the front lawn of the Weasley residence, and moved swiftly in the early morning heat across the damp grass and onto the small porch. He grabbed the knocker, and proceeded to knock three times.

It was the third knock that finally woke Hermione up out of her slumber. She blinked, trying to shake the last vestiges of sleep from her head. A quick glance at her husband, Ron, revealed that he was still asleep. Once he was out, very little could wake him up. She had a lot of experience trying to get him up for work several days a week. She slipped out from under the duvet, and put her feet into a pair of soft slippers. Picking up her wand, she slid into a bathrobe and went into the hall.

The streetlight cast strange shadows across the hall, and for the first time she felt afraid in her own home. The past few weeks had been unusually quiet with Death Eater activity, or so Ron had told her. Just a few killings, and those dead were people that the Aurors suspected were Death Eaters anyway. And more importantly, Ron hadn't seen Harry since the little stunt just after his seventh year. Platform 9 3/4's really was a mess after that. Harry, for all of his faults, was safe. It was dangerous to hold such concerns for a Death Eater, but when the Death Eater is Harry Potter, very little could make sense.

She reached the top of the stairs and padded down softly, careful to miss the third step from the top, because it made a squeaking noise. Hermione gripped her wand firmly, and crossed to the door. She used Unlocking Charms for the magical locks and good old elbow grease for the Muggle locks. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door, careful to not be seen by the person on the other side.

The hooded figure watched the door open, and he took five steps forward, entering the house. He smiled to himself when he heard the door close behind him, and felt a pointed object press into the small of his back.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" she said firmly, trying not to betray her fear. The hooded figure said nothing. She pressed the wand a little harder into the figure's back. "Who are you? What do you want here? I can defend myself."

"I know," the cloaked figure replied. Hermione could have sworn that she had heard that voice before, but where, she could not be sure of. The figure turned around, and grabbed her free hand, dragging it up underneath the hood. Her index finger grazed his nose, and then she felt a small cut in his forehead.

The two sensations clicked, and she shook her head. "No. It's not possible. You can't be." Her voice became louder, and more urgent. "It's not --"

"I assure you it's entirely possible, Hermione," the voice replied.

"Ron!" she cried, after pulling her hand away from the man's face. "Ron!" She tried a different approach. "Breakfast!" She smiled weakly as she heard her husband clamber out of bed.

A minute later, a very sleepy Ron Weasley came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. "Hermione, do you know what time it is? It's three in the morning. Why did you want to make --" He stopped speaking, as he caught sight of the hooded figure in his hallway. "Who are you? Is this some kind of joke, Hermione?"

"I can assure you, Ronald Weasley, that this is no joke," the hooded man replied. With a single motion, he raised his gloved hands to the sides of the deep hood, letting it fall to his shoulders.

Both Ron and Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of Harry Potter standing before them. Without thinking, Ron cried "Stupefy!", and watched as Harry crumpled onto the wooden floor.

In the five years that he had spent as a Death Eater, he had changed. His hair was longer, and more wild than ever, cascading down his neck and into the hood of his cloak. There were even a few gray hairs around Harry's temples. He had several faint scars lining his face, along with the familiar lightning bolt. His eyes had turned a smoldering green, and he was taller, if that were possible, standing head-to-head with Ron, who could boast about being one of the tallest Aurors around.

Both Ron and Hermione stood over him, and looked quizzically at their former friend laying unconscious in their entryway.

"What do you think he wants?" Hermione asked her husband, who shrugged.

"Don't know. If he was here to hurt us, why knock? This makes no sense."

"Do you think it has anything to do with Voldemort? The Death Eaters have been awfully quiet the past few weeks."

"It might. Should I wake him?"

"We're not going to any answers otherwise."

The pair of wizards took a step back. "Ennervate." Harry's eyes opened slowly, and he stood up, brushing himself off. "What do you want, Potter?" Ron said, his voice taking on the authority of an Auror.

"I've come to turn myself in."

Whatever Ron thought was Harry's reason for coming back, that was not it. "Excuse me?" the redhead stammered.

"I've come to turn myself in, Ron," Harry said, very softly.

"Why? After four years as a Death Eater, why now? Voldemort isn't getting any weaker."

Harry breathed deeply, exhaled, and then said, "Ron, Voldemort's dead. I've killed him."

In the space of five minutes the three things that Ron Weasley thought would never come about had indeed come about.

"He's dead? You killed him?" Hermione cut into the conversation.

"Yes."

"But I thought--"

"That I was a loyal Death Eater?"

Hermione looked at the floor. "That would be what I thought."

"I can assure you that I was never a willing Death Eater, although my actions could be taken as loyal to Voldemort."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other for a moment and then at Harry. "Harry, what are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that my betrayal of the 'good' side was only an act. If I could have avoided it I would have, and saved myself and all of my family trouble and pain."

"And you killed Voldemort?" Ron still couldn't quite grasp the concept.

"Right." Harry nodded.

"Oh," Hermione said breathlessly, and fainted.

"Did you just curse her?" Ron accused Harry, swinging his wand into the other man's face. "If you did, I swear to you that I will-"

"Ron, you're not being rational. Have you seen my wand out? Have you?" Harry responded, feeling quite exposed without it.

Ron thought for a moment, and then responded, "No, I suppose not." Ron walked back over to Hermione, knelt beside her, and quickly forgot that Harry was standing there while he was waking his wife up. "Enervate," he said, and her eyelids fluttered open. Ron helped her to her feet, brushing her off as he did so.

"Harry, how is this possible? You are responsible for some of the worst attacks in wizard history. The attack on Hogwarts during Ginny's seventh year, the attack on Diagon Alley..." at this Ron's voice got quiet, "...and the capture and torture of Draco."

Ron watched his former best friend's face tighten, and his lips disappear. "Look, I'll just leave and go to Longbottom's. He'll understand the situation perfectly," Harry said sarcastically, turning and placing his hand on the doorknob.

Hermione's face flushed with anger, and she grabbed his cloak. "No you don't, Potter. You've been away from us for too long and have too much to answer for to go to someone who doesn't know you as well as we do. Or at least as well as we thought we knew you. You owe us."

Harry turned back towards his friends. "Ron?"

Ron thought for a long moment, and then sighed. "I am an Auror, Harry, but in the interests of the friendship that we had I will listen to what you have to say. But don't try anything funny. We're both perfectly capable of defending ourselves against you."

The tension in Harry's face eased slightly. "Thank you."

"How long ago did Voldemort fall?" Ron asked.

"One week ago," Harry replied.

"And what about the attacks on the wizards since then?"

"I did that. I am responsible for their deaths. They were Death Eaters, every one of them."

"Can you prove it?"

"I can."

"You'll need to. You know about Fudge?"

"The dictator posing as the Minister of Magic? I do."

"Good."

Hermione cut into the conversation. "Why did you leave, Harry?"

At that Harry paused, contemplating how to answer such a question. He glanced at her, and then at Ron, and spoke slowly, thinking out loud. "Why? Well one reason would be that I wanted to defeat Voldemort."

"But you could have done that fighting against him, not for him."

"Not while he threatened my friends. And the man I loved," Harry said, his eyes hardening.

"Did he threaten us?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"He did. All of you, unless I joined him."

"You could have fought it, just as you had for the previous six years!" Ron's voice rose.

"Not when he threatened you directly. When I joined him I found out exactly how close to losing we were in our sixth year. It wasn't as easy as everyone thought, I can tell you. He was that close to victory, and if he had succeeded, I shudder to think of what would have transpired."

"I understand," Hermione said, soothing her husband, who had lost most of his anger when Harry said that. "I also understand that we have a very tired Harry Potter, and if we would like to stand here all night and talk, we can. However, I am going back to bed." She tugged on her husband's arm, trying to get him to come along as well.

"Is there anywhere I could sleep?" Harry asked sheepishly.

"Certainly. This house has five bedrooms," Hermione replied.

The three of them went up the stairs, and Hermione and Ron led Harry to one
of the bedrooms off the main hallway.

"Here you go," Hermione waved her wand and the room lit up a little bit. A comfortable bed sat in the far corner, with a side table next to it. A bookshelf and overstuffed wing chair were the only other furniture in the room.

"Thank you both so much," Harry told them both, relief and gratitude evident in his voice.

Hermione looked at Harry and said, "We would give nothing less. Our friendship that we once had with you is more important than anything else right now."

"If only you knew how much that friendship meant to me during my years with Voldemort, and how for weeks memories of us would be all that kept me sane."

"We will find out, Harry. Tomorrow. For now, sleep." Hermione said soothingly. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you."

Harry watched his friends close the door, finally alone after what had been a trying night. He untied his boots, and set them at the foot of the bed. He unclasped his black cloak, wrapped it up and plopped it on the back of the wing chair. He undressed, and climbed into the four poster bed. He let out a sigh of relief, as he sunk into the crisp sheets.

"Well, I made it," he thought before drifting off to a well deserved sleep.

A few moments later the door cracked open and the two occupants of the house peered inside.

"He looks like he's been through so much," Hermione remarked softly.

"He has been through a lot. As have the rest of us. How much remains to be seen, although I still say that we should have gotten the Aurors here."

"And what good would that have done, Ron? Nothing. We'll send an owl off to Dumbledore in the morning, asking him for advice. I think also that Draco and Ginny need to be told of Harry's--"

"No." Ron's voice was firm.

"No?"

"No. Do you not remember that Draco and Harry were going out during our sixth and seventh years? And that Harry turned on him and became a Death Eater, the very thing that Harry brought him back from? Did he not tell you how much Harry 'enjoyed' torturing him?"

"Ron Weasley, don't start with me. I remember that. But Draco was closest to Harry there for a while, and he deserves to be told, just as Ginny does. The four of us are the only people at the moment that Harry can trust implicitly."

"Are you not considering the reaction that Draco will have?" Ron tipped his wife's face to his.

"And the reaction that Harry will have?" Hermione challenged.

"Enough of this. Let's go to bed. We can talk in the morning. I need to go into the office anyway."

"Not to report--"

"No, not to report Harry. I know that Harry places trust in all of us, and we need to respect that. If we report him, I don't want to think of the consequences. Let's go to bed, Hermione."

"Okay." Ron slipped his freckled hand around his wife's shoulders and led her back to their bed.

Harry woke to the delicious smell of bacon being fried downstairs. He slid his feet onto the cold floor, and padded over to the full length mirror. Pulling his wand from his robes, Harry performed some basic Cleaning Charms, so that his long hair wouldn't tangle. He tied it back, and finished dressing quickly, leaving only his heavy cloak behind. He wore the same black robes that he had on the night before, clasped together with a silver clasp shaped like a Dark Mark.

His steps took him down the stairs, and into the living room. Before going into the kitchen, he stopped at the fireplace and looked at the few pictures that were on the mantel. There was one of Hermione, Ron and himself from their third year, taken by Colin Creevey. A second was of Hermione and Ron, on their honeymoon in the South Seas. The people in these pictures were waving and smiling happily. His breath caught as he looked at the last photograph, which had been taken just weeks before they left Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione were smiling, laughing and waving joyfully at the camera, like the two love birds that they were. Draco and Harry stood beside them, both looking very tired.

"Ready?" Colin asked the four seventh years standing before him.

"Sure," Ron and Hermione said together smiling.

"All right, Harry?" Colin asked.

"Yeah, fine," Harry replied, dismissing the question. He felt a warm hand squeeze his, and he looked into silver eyes. Harry shut his own, trying not to be overwhelmed with the sense of loss that was sneaking up on him.

"Harry?" Harry felt Draco's slender fingers stroke his cheek. "Are you really okay?"

"No," Harry confessed.

Ron and Hermione turned to him. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry struggled to find words to express what was going on inside him. Only Draco knew the truth of what was happening, and he was sworn to secrecy about the whole thing. "I'm just going to miss this place, I guess," he admitted. It was true, although not the whole truth. Draco knew the truth, and Harry looked to him for support. Draco pulled Harry into an embrace, giving Harry his strength. They stood there, locked into each other for a few minutes, each trying to lose themselves.

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Draco asked, his eyes searching the other boy's face.

"It's only a picture, Harry," Colin said, helpfully.

"I know. Okay, let's get this done with," Harry said, reluctantly letting go of Draco, and the two of them faced the camera.

With a flash the photo was taken, capturing that moment in time forever.


"Ron and I wondered what you and Draco were talking about when that picture was taken. I guess we found out." Harry hadn't heard Hermione come into the living room.

"He knew everything about that year, Hermione. Everything I couldn't tell you or Ron. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't."

"Why did he know?"

"For God sakes Hermione, he was my boyfriend!" Harry's voice rose slightly. "He and I spent every possible moment together that year. Draco was everything to me. And I betrayed him," his voice softened, "Can you understand what it's like to be forced to leave the one thing that makes you happy? He always knew how to make me smile. He knew just what to say, how to act, all to make me happy. It broke my heart when I left him on the train that summer. But it wasn't enough. Voldemort wanted me to prove my loyalty, which I did. I had to-" Harry's voice grew ragged, and Hermione squeezed him as hard as she could.

"Come into the kitchen," she said, trying to soothe the deep emotional scars. "We need to get something in you before Ron comes back and takes it all for himself. He went to the office very early this morning but should be back soon."

"Still eating like a horse?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Harry followed her into the well stocked kitchen. Either Hermione or Ron had become quite the chef in the five years since Harry had left them. "It's me, by the way," Hermione answered his unasked question. "Ron can't even boil water."

She returned to the stove, and finished cooking the bacon and eggs. Harry watched from a stool as her actions became more agitated until finally she whirled around and pointed her spatula at him.

"Harry, before you and I go any further, I want a truthful, honest answer from you. That is essential to anything else that may come up. Without truth I cannot help but question everything."

"Ask away," Harry said, taking up his eggs as she asked the question that she had been mulling over since he had returned early that morning.

"Why?" In that one word, Harry realized, lay the foundations of the rest of his life, the explanations of his actions and the decisions that he had made.

He stood up. "To protect the ones that I loved," he replied softly, taking her into his arms.

"I told myself after that night that you were under the Imperius Curse, that it was a dare, anything to tell myself that it wasn't true. And then there was the incident on the Express. I knew then that you had turned. I believed it, Harry. We all did."

"I know. This was the only way to defeat Voldemort."

"We could have helped, Harry. Ron, Draco, myself, we were all willing to give our lives for you."

"That's what scared me. I wanted to protect all of you from what Voldemort threatened to do if I didn't join him. Do you think that it was easy breaking up with Draco, the man who I loved more than my own being? Or verbally hurting you? Or Ron? It wasn't. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, and I regret how things turned out, but I couldn't tell you what I was doing."

"Why though? We're your friends, Harry. We could have--"

"Done nothing. If Voldemort knew that I was still friends with you, you would still have been attacked. I had to enter the Death Eaters' circle to protect you."

"Harry--" her voice broke, and they stood next to the counter for a long moment, Harry rocking her back and forth, comforting her.

"Hermione, I've come back. I am not a Death Eater any longer, regardless of what Fudge or the Daily Prophet makes me out to be. We'll handle the future together, or failing that, I will deal with it myself."

Hermione pulled away from him, and stared at him as if he had two heads. "Harry Potter, if you think for one minute that we're going to let you save yourself alone, you are sadly mistaken. I believe you, for the reason that you would go to Voldemort to save your family. What happened to you, what you did, and the details, are really meaningless."

He kissed her forehead. "You've always been wise beyond your years, and this is no exception."

"Are you trying to steal my wife, Potter?" Ron asked, entering the kitchen. Hermione blushed slightly, and poured Ron his morning tea.

"Not at all. She's really not my type," Harry told the couple facing him, and the three chuckled slightly, trying the lighten the somber mood.

"How was work?" Hermione asked.

"Fine." Harry's brow furrowed, and he looked on the verge of asking a question. Ron appeared to be thinking along the same lines as Harry. "No, Harry, I didn't tell my coworkers that you're here. That wouldn't be the wisest decision, now would it, if we want to get to the truth and to save you from the Dementors?"

"Just checking. I'm a still a little paranoid about Fudge."

"As we all are. Fudge has become a strong Minister of Magic, but he's a little blind when it comes to the Death Eaters."

"Most of those that are caught get the Kiss. I know," Harry said, reminding Ron and Hermione just how much they had missed him and how much he had missed out in his own life.

"Did you do what we talked about last night?" Ron spoke softly into Hermione's ear. Harry however, could still hear what they had said.

"Yes," she replied, trying to avoid Harry's gaze.

"What did you do this morning, Hermione?"

Hermione, caught, looked at Ron, who nodded once. "I owled two people. One was Professor Dumbledore. The other was--"

"Don't say who I think you're going to say." Harry stiffened, and began to fidget with the folds of his cloak. "Did you tell them who it was that came to see you last night?"

"Only Professor Dumbledore. The other two know only that we received a visitor last night."

"This is great," Harry said, exasperated. "Just great. I get to see the man I love and the woman he married instead. Just great!"

"Leave my sister out of this, Harry," Ron said.

"What are you going to do about it, Weasley?" Harry said sarcastically. "It's not like you could hurt me." His eyes flashed dangerously.

"Enough!" Hermione stepped between the two men. "I will not have fighting in my house this morning. The rest of the day will be tense enough. Just shut it, both of you. Harry, your seeing Draco will be fine, I promise. He's not the man you left five years ago, or even saw two years ago. Ron, Harry loves Draco. He can't help but feel angry at the loss of the man he loves, and who loved him. Now make up." She put her hands on her hips, and looked to both men.

Ron and Harry blushed slightly, stepped to each other, and patted each other on the shoulder. "Sorry," they both mumbled.

"Good. Now when Ginny and Draco get here, you both stay in the kitchen. When I call you to come out, do so. And don't say a word. It will hard enough trying to control Draco after he sees you without tipping him off earlier."

"What do you mean?" Harry said, concern in his voice.

"What I mean is that Draco was wounded, far more than you realize, I think, by your little games with him."

Harry gasped. "I had no idea."

"Obviously not," Ron spat. "What did you think torturing him would do to his feelings for you?"

"Enough, Ron," Hermione said. "Harry, these next few days will not be very pleasant for you, I'm afraid."

"I know that."

"Especially the first day or so, until all of us get accustomed to seeing you again."

Just as she finished, a knock came on the front door. "That's them. Now be quiet!" Hermione cautioned, and left the kitchen.

Harry and Ron heard her walk across the living room to the front door. They heard it opening, and the two new guests entering the house.

"Good morning," Hermione said cheerfully.

"Morning," Draco and Ginny replied none-too-cheerfully.

"Is Leo still keeping you up?" Harry heard the three pairs of feet coming closer to the kitchen.

"Yes," Draco said, unaware of the effect that his rich baritone voice had on the man on the other side of the door. Harry's face lit up, illuminating his entire being with the warmth that could only come from hearing a loved one's voice.

"This little visit is such a relief. I feel like I could just go to sleep on the couch. We left the twins and Leo at George's, but we need to be back before six, as he and Alicia are going out to dinner tonight. We have to watch Charles for them this evening," Ginny told her sister-in-law.

"Hermione, you don't look like you've got much sleep last night. Is there something you need to tell us?"

"Well, yes."

"Hermione! That's wonderful. What did Ron say?" Ginny asked excitedly.

"He took it about the same as me. It was quite a shock so early in the morning."

"Congratulations! So what are you going to name it? If it's a boy or girl?" Ron's eyes widened when he finally realized what they were referring to.

"Ginny, we're not pregnant. We've decided to wait a little while longer before we hear the sounds of a baby in this house."

"But it's been almost four years already. You need to be starting a family you know."

"I'm not a brood cow, Ginny. We just want to take it slowly. And besides, the war's still going on."

"So why did you call us here at this hour of the morning?" Draco asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Last night we received a visitor," she replied mysteriously, and her voice betrayed her unease.

"Who could possibly want to come here in the early hours of the morning? It wasn't Fudge, was it? I know Dad says he's a slave driver, but still," Ginny said.

"No, it wasn't Fudge. In fact, he stayed the night. Ron, could you bring our guest out?" Hermione's voice raised just enough so that Ron could clearly hear here.

Ron nodded to Harry and the two of them stood from their stools and made their way to the door.

"Ready?" Ron asked, his eyes searching Harry's face. Harry simply nodded. Ron pushed open the door, and Harry followed behind him.

Harry stepped into the living room and both Ginny and Draco gasped audibly. He could sense the fear and loathing coming from Draco, something that he knew was his fault. Standing in the middle of the Weasley's living room, Harry broke. He collapsed to the floor, not caring what the other three in the room thought of him. Harry thought of a world without Draco's touch, without his embrace, and it suddenly became too much for him to bear.

For Draco, his mind was reeling with the shock of seeing his former love sitting before him. The hate that he felt for the other man for so many years was replaced with pity, to Draco's surprise. He pitied Harry sitting there, like a broken rag doll, and so of it's own accord, his body straightened up off the couch, walked over to the broken man on the floor, and sat down in front of him.

Draco extended his arm, taking Harry's chin and looking into his misty eyes. Harry froze, simply gazing at the man that he loved, with all of his heart and soul. The wispy blond hair was gone, replaced with a slightly darker and thicker shade of gold. His face was still unmarked by age, and was the same soft cream that Harry remembered longingly. Draco carried himself much as he had during Harry's seventh year, with poise and a feline grace that Harry had not seen duplicated anywhere else. His long hands were now wearing a gold band on the left one, and on his other hand a silver band, given by Harry over the summer between sixth and seventh years.

But his eyes were still the same stormy gray, and Harry could always tell what mood Draco was in by the smallest shift in their color.

For a long time, the two men simply looked at each other as if they were the only people in the world. Not a word was uttered between them or the other three occupants of the room, watching the scene in silence.

"Harry," Draco said softly. That one word was what Harry had waited for years to hear once again, as only Draco could say it. Draco lifted Harry up off of the floor, and straightened his glasses.

"Draco, I--" Harry tried to begin, but Draco shushed him.

"No words of apologies, remember? We told ourselves that whatever happened, there would be no apologies."

"But--"

"No buts. We can talk about this later, privately. There is too much to work through right now. You've come back from what I feared you would not. Every day I feared that you would be tempted the way I was, with power-pure, heartless power. I was tempted too, Harry." Draco pushed back his left sleeve, and they both stared at the Dark Mark that lay upon his arm. "But a little angel found me, and brought me back from that temptation."

"I was tempted, and I gave in." Harry said, sighing.

Draco lifted the other man's face, and forced him to look at his face. "No, you didn't. You wanted to, but would you be here if you had?"

"What's all this about?" Ginny finally broke free of her paralysis and got off of the couch and walked over to where Harry and Draco were standing.

"Ginny, Harry and I made a promise to each other just before he left, that regardless of what happened to him, or to me, there would be no regret at the end of this. No apologies, nothing," Draco told her

Ron cut in. "Wait a minute. You knew that Harry was going to switch sides? And you never said anything?"

"No," Draco said fiercely, sensing Harry's rising tension. "Harry swore me to secrecy. I've never told another soul of what happened between us. I am a Malfoy, and we always keep our word. It wasn't anyone's business to know, at least not why Harry was doing it."

Harry broke away from Draco and took look a good look at Ginny. She had filled out slightly, and had that maternal air about her, much as her mother had.. Her face was framed by her billowing fiery hair, and she looked much the same as the last time he had seen her.

"'Lo Gin," he said, cautiously. She, however, broke into hysterics when he spoke to her, and had to be calmed down by Draco, Hermione and Ron. Harry bristled slightly at the sight of Draco comforting another person, but he relaxed when he reminded himself that Ginny was Draco's wife.

Ginny was finally calm enough to speak. "Harry, what have you done over the past five years? Why did you leave us?"

"To protect you." Everyone took a seat. Harry sighed. "Let me begin at the beginning."

"The letter, right?" Draco asked.

"Exactly. It arrived three days before we were supposed to go back to Hogwarts for our seventh year," Harry began.