Lacuna

“Draco’s a nice chap, isn’t he?” Matthew asked as he delicately put gel into his hair. “A bit abrasive sometimes, but he seems to mean well.”

“I’ve never spoken to him. Are you ready?”

Matthew turned from the mirror to face Imogene, whom he had learned was all about business. She came to his hotel every night to check in on him, even though they listened to his every move. Each night, he would make an attempt at breaking through the veneer she held over her face by cracking a joke. It never worked, but it was not for lack of trying. He had been in San Juan for a week now and had spent time with Draco every night. The previous day, they had spent hours together and had ended up renting a small sports car and took it out of the city. Every minute of the day, Matthew was on edge, but hoped it would not show. His mind was constantly on Harry and there had been more than a few times when Draco had noticed that he was not in their conversation.

“You’ve listened to our conversations, Imogene,” Matthew commented as he fixed his hair, preening for her benefit. He had to try something new each time he wanted to make her laugh. Nothing seemed to strike her funny bone. Tonight, he went for narcissism. “It doesn’t sound like he fancies me, does it? I don’t want him to be attracted to me. Merlin knows I’ve attracted more than my fair share of men. I mean, look at me.” He turned his head slightly and smirked at her.

Imogene was frowning at him. The smirk fell. No, he thought. Perhaps he hadn’t pulled off that joke quite right. Nobody ever said he was a comedian. “No, I don’t think so. Would you hurry? You’re supposed to meet him in five minutes.”

“The club is ten steps from here. I think we’ll make it. You can leave ahead of me.”

Imogene was attending the club tonight to watch them even as they listened. He was tired of being followed, but was doing all he could to get something on Narcissa so that he could go home. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could begin to move on. Perhaps he needed to do something relaxing, yoga, or maybe Tai Chi.

When they arrived at the club, Imogene joined the queue waiting to enter and Matthew waved at the bouncer as he slipped past. The club was large, with tables scattered around the edges and a great, circular dance floor that recessed into the floor, accessible by several short flights of stairs. A tall flight of stairs led up to a balcony that overlooked the ground floor of the club, which happened to be the location of Draco’s and Stuart’s office. Matthew looked up and saw Draco standing in the doorway, scanning his eyes over the people. He waved to catch the blonde’s attention. Draco nodded at him and Matthew pushed through the people to get closer.

“Good evening, Matthew,” Draco nodded as he approached.

“Kalen. Did you get your work done today?”

Draco looked over and smiled. “Only because you weren’t here to distract me again, you great brute. I should never have let you talk me into doing something yesterday.”

“But you had fun,” Matthew winked.

“If you call getting lost for two hours fun….”

Draco looked back to the crowds below them, and Matthew noticed his mood became sullen. “Stuart is here tonight,” Draco yelled over the music. “Have you met him?”

“Not yet!”

“Well, perhaps you will tonight.”

Once again, Draco fell silent, his face going distant with thought. Matthew wanted to let it be, but he knew that if he let this chance pass, the Aurors would be down his throat. Besides, he liked Draco, and it looked like he had something important on his mind. Taking the blond by the arm, he led him into the office and closed the door. Draco looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What are you doing?” he said normally now, the music having been muffled.

“There’s something on your mind, so we’re sitting here until you tell me.” He pushed Draco into a chair and he pulled another chair directly in front and sat, crossing his arms.

“I don’t need therapy.” Draco frowned.

“And I’m not a therapist,” Matthew shrugged.

Silence fell over the room and Draco would not look anywhere near Matthew. His eyes darted back and forth, and he opened his mouth a few times, but closed it. “I don’t like being put on the spot,” he finally said, his voice low. “I don’t know what to give you because I don’t know what you expect.”

“All I expect is for you to tell me whatever you want to tell me. We may have only met this week, but I can tell that something troubles you. You especially don’t seem to be yourself tonight. So… tell me what it is, Kalen.”

Draco flinched. “It’s complicated,” he said quietly.

“Start with the easy stuff then.”

Draco took a deep breath and looked away at the wall, his eyes distant. “I wrote a letter to…. I don’t even know if she is a friend, but I wrote to her.”

“Who?”

Draco shifted. “Will you not tell anybody?”

Matthew thought guiltily of the listening charm on him, but nodded without saying a word. Draco sighed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this…. Hermione Weasley… she’s the Jun –”

“Junior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic,” Matthew finished, nodding. He had been informed of the letter, and had hoped something would come up about it. “I know her actually. Go on.”

“But I didn’t write to her for business. I knew her in school. I’m fairly certain that she hated me though. I called her a Mudblood and made fun of Hagrid, the groundskeeper. She liked him.” He blinked, as though dredging up a memory, but then shook his head. “Anyway… I wanted her to write back, and I thought that maybe I could meet with her sometime, but she hasn’t written. I’m afraid I’ve done something stupid by writing to her.”

“I don’t understand. Why would writing to a former schoolmate be a stupid thing to do? At any rate, what made you even think of a girl you seemingly hated in school?”

“I saw the birth announcement for her son. Actually, my mother read it to me over brunch that day you and I first met. I haven’t thought about her in years really, but I couldn’t get her off my mind after that. I remember hating her, but now that I think of her, I don’t. I feel as though I like her, and I don’t know why.”

“So, you basically have no memory of beginning to like her. I’m sorry, Kalen, but this is not making much sense.” Matthew leaned forward in his seat, unconsciously jutting his chin out slightly as though it would help push more information from Draco’s mouth.

Draco grew nervous. He fidgeted in his seat. “I’ve never told anybody around here about this,” he whispered, studying his hands. “I don’t think I should even say anything.”

Nodding minutely, Matthew remained silent for a few moments. “You know you don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it or if it’s an issue of trust.”

“I don’t think you should give me that option, Matthew.” Draco smiled thinly and took a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t know why I should tell you because it won’t change anything. I’ll still be the way I am.”

“You could give it a try.”

“Might be nice,” he murmured through exhaling. “The thing is, is that I don’t have much memory of my sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. I remember classes, and I’ve retained everything I’ve learned, but time spent out of classes, with whom I spent free time… it’s all gone. Even chunks of my earlier years in school are missing.”

Matthew bit his lip. This was something. The Aurors had wanted to know how much of his memory was gone. This was progress. “Just your years at Hogwarts are fragmented, or are there more?”

“There’s more. I know I was training to become an Auror, but I don’t remember anything but that. I don’t know if I had a boyfriend, if I lived with somebody, if I was alone. It’s all blank. I asked my mother once, but she said that we were estranged so she doesn’t know what I was doing then. She doesn’t want to talk about it ever. A little over four years ago, I woke up in a strange room wondering where I was and why I was there. I started looking for something or somebody next to me, but I was alone. I felt sick, sore, like I hadn’t moved in weeks, my head was pounding, and I just felt… tired, as if I had no stamina to even try living anymore. I… I was sad. Then my mother came in and I asked her what was going on. She said that I had been very sick with the magical flu, and it had been seriously depleting my magic, and that she took me to warmer climates in the hopes I would get better.” Draco shrugged, his body sulking in the memory. “I’ve never found another explanation. Besides, it did take me weeks to regain full use of magic. At first I wasn’t able to cast a simple Alohomora. That part still seems to fit, but I’ve always had my doubts. Logically, I’ve always known that she’s been keeping something from me. That’s why I wrote to Hermione. I remembered an instance with her when we were young, but whenever I think about it, it’s as though there’s this… hole. She was with somebody, her husband, and though I can’t remember anybody else being there, there was. He or she is just gone. It’s just….” He trailed off, his grey eyes going dark. After a moment, he sniffed and shrugged. “I thought she could help me figure it out.” Draco continued to avert his eyes, his body slumping after his confession as though it had been a tightly wound ball within his chest for a very long time. “That’s it. There’s nothing you can do about it. I don’t even know what to do.”

Matthew leaned back in his seat, swallowing at the slew of information the other man had just revealed. “Hermione is probably busy with her new baby.”

“Yes, that’s what I hoped.” Suddenly, Draco’s eyes lit up with hope, his body straightening. “You said you know her!”

Matthew tried not to wince. Draco already knew he had a connection to Harry. What if he had dug himself so far into a hole that Draco connected the dots? That was not to happen until Narcissa could be taken into custody.

“On occasion, yes,” he replied cautiously.

“Would you be able to talk to her for me? Ask her if she could meet with an old schoolmate. Please?”

Matthew shook his head. “I don’t know her well enough to be asking favours. We’ve only met through mutual friends.”

Draco’s body slumped dejected into the chair once more. He looked to the floor. “I should not have asked you, Matt. I’m sorry. I’ve just… been in the dark for so long, and I want to know what my mother is hiding from me. I’m not ignorant, despite what she thinks.”

“I don’t know of any mother who thinks their own child is ignorant.”

Draco looked darkly at Matthew. “Then you’ve never met mine, have you?”

Matthew just barely held back a smirk. Anybody who had met Narcissa Malfoy would understand her son’s position.

“No, I suppose I haven’t.”

Draco stood and went to his desk, opening the drawer. “I nicked this from the bar,” he said attempting to get a bit of joviality in his demeanour. Matthew held back a sigh of pity. “Do you want some?” He held up a bottle of liquor.

“I could have a drink,” Matthew smiled back at him, wondering if he might get something more out of the other man tonight, or if this was the extent of their conversation. What Draco had just confessed was more than Matthew could have ever dreamed of getting out of him. It only testified to how much Draco had obviously needed to talk to somebody in the past years about his extraordinary situation. However, Matthew needn’t worry. Draco seemed to have opened a floodgate concerning his mother, and as he handed a drink to Matthew and draped himself over his chair, he began to talk freely.

“I’ve always tried to please her and my father… but he’s dead, another subject about which my mother refuses to speak. I suppose that’s understandable though. I just wish I knew how he died. I’m fairly certain he did something stupid to deserve it.” Draco sipped from his glass and looked at Matthew. “He was a Death Eater, you know. For the longest time, I thought that that was what I would turn out to be. I don’t know what happened, but somewhere along the line, something changed. My father must have been furious before he died. I’m surprised I wasn’t disinherited. Of course, I have no bloody idea what happened. Maybe he never knew my alliances.”

Matthew was curious now. He had never heard Harry speak of how Lucius Malfoy had died. Somewhere along the way, he remembered reading of how Lucius had been found in the dungeons of his home, but did not remember hearing of how he died. “What do you think your mother is keeping from you?” Matthew asked, steering the conversation back to where he hopefully wanted it to be.

“I wouldn’t be wondering if I knew would I?” Draco smirked, but he turned serious. “No, I have a feeling she does know what I was doing besides Auror training in those years I’m missing. We might have been estranged, but it would not have been like her to not keep up with my goings on. I also feel as though she knows more of my memory loss than she tells me. The first time I asked she told me that I was injured, but that story held up just that once. Now she sticks to ‘you fell sick because you were traumatized by what you did, darling. I was afraid that when you woke you would have memory loss. It was all very traumatizing, and I think it might be for the better that you don’t remember what happened. I don’t want to tell you in fear that you will never return to me again.’” He scowled and drank heavily from his glass.

“By what you did?” Matthew asked true confusion in his voice. He had not been informed of this, nor did he think that any of the Aurors knew what Narcissa had told Draco.

Draco’s eyes grew wide, swallowing thickly. For a few moments, he seemed frozen in place. Finally, he scrambled up from his chair and tripped to the door. Matthew shot up and caught him by the arm, stopping his retreat from the room. “What does she tell you?”

“It’s nothing, Matt,” Draco struggled in his grasp, but Matthew was much stronger from his years of Quidditch training. “Really, it’s nothing. Let go.”

“Not until you tell me what she says you did.”

“I already told you that she doesn’t say anything. She won’t!”

“She makes it sound like you did some sort of crime, or what is it, Kalen? What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It’s your life she’s keeping from you! If you want it back, do something about it!”

“And what do you suggest?” Draco spit out, yanking on his arm to no effect.

He felt frustration at the whole situation begin to boil in his chest. “Do the research, you arrogant son of a bitch! In fact, I’ll give you your start, because I can tell you that I have never seen your name in the paper for some heinous crime. You have never done anything wrong.”

Draco stopped moving, his eyes hard and cold as he glared up at Matthew. “You wouldn’t know if you had seen my name in the paper.”

“Wouldn’t I?” he challenged. “I live in England. I read the paper every morning.”

“That’s not going to help your case. You haven’t seen my name in the paper,” Draco was vehement.

Matthew closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of those Aurors listening in. Throwing any caution he had to the wind, he looked at Draco, his own eyes hard. “I’m not as stupid as you seem to think I am.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I know who you are.”

Draco’s face slackened. “Kalen Mortim –”

“Draco Malfoy,” Matthew interrupted.

Draco immediately began thrashing within Matthew’s grasp. “Let go!” However, Matthew did not listen. He kept his grip firm. Draco, realising that he was not going anywhere with Matthew’s hands gripping him, growled in frustration and stopped thrashing. “What do you want with me?” he snarled.

“I want absolutely nothing from you, Draco.”

“Then why have you pretended this whole time? Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was right from the start?”

“I didn’t know,” Matthew lied. “I knew I recognized you, and that’s why I spoke to you.”

“When did you find out?” Draco asked, yanking on his arm.

“A few days ago, something sparked in my mind so I checked it out.”

“What did you find?”

“An article in The Daily Prophet from four years ago.”

“So I was in the paper!” Draco cried triumphantly.

“But not for what you’ve been told, Draco.”

Draco’s face turned desperate. “Then what? Matthew, tell me! What was the article?”

Matthew sighed, wondering if he should have gone along with this. He would be in trouble. “It said you died. You were supposed to have committed suicide. That’s all I know, Draco. There was nothing else.”

“Dead?” Draco whispered his struggles to get away having diminished completely. His body went slowly limp, and only when it did, did Matthew think it safe to steer them back to the chairs. Draco sat with gentle persuasion, and then buried his face in his hands. “That must be why Hermione hasn’t written back. She doesn’t believe it’s me.” He looked to Matthew, who had sat back in his vacated chair. Matthew nodded. “Where would a story like that come from? Did my mother do it?”

“I don’t know,” Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know anymore than you do, Draco. I’m sorry.”

“It makes sense,” Draco nodded. “My mother is trying to protect me. She says I can’t go back to England and that I shouldn’t converse with anybody from there but her. But why would she tell me that I did something horrible?” Sudden enlightenment overtook his face. “I just need to speak to her about it. She’ll tell me the truth. She will have to tell me now that I know that all of England believes I am dead.”

Matthew thought quickly. “Do you really think she would? She’s been lying to you for years now, Draco.”

Draco shrugged. “She’s my mother. I have to trust what she says.”

“Even after she’s lied to you?”

“Yes. Besides, if she did do it, there had to have been a reason to fake my death, right?”

“Listen, Draco, I may not know you very well, but I know you’re not that stupid to believe that… I might be able to help you, since I’m more among the living than you are. Maybe I could do a little digging around for you.”

“You would do that?” Draco scooted forward in his chair, touching Matthew’s knee.

“Of course,” he nodded, wondering what on earth he was volunteering to do.

“If it would be a problem, I don’t want to impose.”

“It wouldn’t. But Draco, I’ll only do it if you promise me something.”

“Anything,” Draco nodded vigorously. “Just name it.”

“Promise that you will act normal around your mother. You don’t know anything. If you want to get out from under her hand, you need to act normal. Don’t mention that you’ve met me; don’t mention anything about our relationship.”

“I’m not stupid,” Draco frowned, but he was nodding. “You’re crazy, you know. We barely know each other.”

Matthew shrugged, unsure of what to say. He was not sure why he had put himself in this situation either. “I like helping people.”

Draco’s face broke into a broad smile, his eyes lighting up, and his cheeks turned pink. In that moment, Matthew let go of Harry, because he understood why Harry was so in love with Draco. Even so, his chest ached for the person he had lost. “There has to be something I can do to thank you, Matt. Name it, and I’ll do it.”

“We’ll go out for dinner tomorrow night,” he said quietly.

“Okay, six, don’t be late!” Draco continued smiling and quite suddenly shot forward, wrapping his arms around Matthew’s neck. Matthew went stiff, surprised from the sudden onslaught of gratitude. “I’m sorry,” Draco whispered still holding on. “I’m not usually like this but… this means so much to me. I haven’t known what to do for so long. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

Matthew slowly returned the hug. “You don’t have to. Besides, I might not find anything. You’ll have to keep that in mind, Draco.”

The blond pulled away, a small smile on his face. “I know, but it feels better knowing somebody is helping.” His smile grew again, his eyes alight. “Let’s get out of this room. Come dance with me.”

Matthew took the hand Draco offered and they stood. “I could do that,” he said smiling, though his heart was screaming and for just a moment his thoughts betrayed him. He imagined for just one second that instead of grasping Draco’s hand, he had grasped the blonde’s neck and squeezed. Tight. Draco’s eyes bugged out and as he sputtered for breath, he sputtered out his final wish, “Take Harry. Love him.”

He shook his head, clearing it of the thought as quickly as it had come. Ridiculous. Taking a deep breath, Matthew followed Draco from the room. As they descended the stairs, Matthew caught Imogene’s eye. She was standing with her back against the bar, a drink in hand. Narrowing her eyes at him, she held up a finger and mouthed ‘one hour.’ He nodded slightly to show he understood.

Draco led him to the dance floor and drew close, dancing against him. Matthew decided that there was nothing so important to think of, at least for the next hour, so he let himself go and danced with abandon. The blond he held for company smiled and laughed more than he had in the duration of their short friendship. A string seemed to have been cut in Draco’s mind and he was free from one more worry.

The time passed quickly as they danced, and when it was five minutes before Imogene’s imposed time limit, Matthew wondered what his excuse for leaving would be. However, another man approached them and motioned to Draco.

“Stuart!” Draco exclaimed. Matthew studied him for a moment, taking in his shaved head, large brown eyes and small build.

“Sorry,” Stuart smiled at him. “I need to borrow my partner in crime.”

“It’s okay. Kalen, I’m going to get back to my hotel. Harry has wanted me to call him today, but I forgot.”

Draco stopped dancing for a moment. “You’re still together?” He quickly shook his head. “Never mind. That’s not my business. Anyway, wouldn’t he be sleeping with the difference in time?”

“Yes, but he’ll have to deal with it.” Matthew smirked, squeezing his arm gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Draco’s eyes grew soft and he nodded. “Six sharp.”

Nodding, Matthew stepped away. “I’ve never seen you like this!” Matthew heard Stuart shout over the noise, and Matthew held in a smile before he disappeared into the crowd. Imogene grabbed his wrist at the door and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the same room he had arrived to San Juan in, only this time there were more people. Much to his surprise, Kingsley Shacklebolt was there sitting on a table. He looked angry.

“Pickleworms, just what the hell did you think you were doing?” Kingsley demanded standing from his seat. Matthew was a tall man, but Kingsley was even taller, and that made him intimidating.

“I told you I would do all I can to get you information. He gave plenty of information, don’t you think?”

“If you hadn’t blown your cover –” Imogene started, but Matthew cut her off.

“I didn’t blow my cover! I told him that I figured out who he is. Believe me there’s plenty more that I could have told him.” Matthew stared around at the Aurors surrounding him. There were just five, but he felt offensively outnumbered. “But I didn’t, and that’s the important thing. Besides, I’d place all my money betting that all of you know my feelings for Harry Potter, Draco’s husband! I’d do anything to make Harry happy, so I’d articulate it’s safe to say that you’re all damn lucky I didn’t tell him more. Because I know somebody back home who would be overjoyed to know of his existence.” “That may be true,” Kingsley spoke up again, “but we had an agreement when we sent you here.”

“I know the agreement,” he said tiredly. “I didn’t ruin anything. All I did was give him hope that he would someday know what he was doing in those years he can’t remember. Somebody had to give him something, since all he’s doing is giving and he doesn’t even know it.”

“Now that you’ve given him something,” Kingsley sighed, “we’re sending you home tomorrow. We’ll have a portkey ready for you at noon.”

“I’m not going back until I have dinner with Draco.”

“We can’t allow that to happen.”

“I’m not going to leave until after dinner. Besides, if I leave before, Draco will suspect something and then what do you think will happen? He’ll go to the only person he thinks is safe. Narcissa. Do you want that to happen?”

“He’s right,” a male Auror whispered, who was standing behind Kingsley. Matthew had seen this Auror once before; he thought that he was one who trailed Draco. “He’ll go to her.”

Kingsley looked back and the Auror nodded at him. “Fine,” he relented. “You’ll stay for dinner, but your portkey will be set for nine. It will be waiting in this room, so don’t be tardy.”

“Fine. May I go now?”

“To your hotel,” Imogene stressed. “You’re not to see Malfoy until dinner.”

“Fine,” he reiterated and turned on his heel. “I’ll walk.”

:.***.:

Somewhere in the past five minutes, Ayida had run away and hid somewhere. Harry was frantically searching for her, calling her name. Ron had run further up the road to see if she had snuck into the ice cream parlour or Honeydukes. They were in Hogsmeade after spending lunch with Sirius at Hogwarts. Ron had wanted to mail a package to Charlie before he went home. He still had Pigwidgeon, but the tiny owl would not have been able to make the flight to Romania, where Charlie still worked with dragons.

“Ayida!” Harry yelled frantically. He was fairly certain that the threat of Death Eaters was slim, but instances like these frightened him. Maybe not Death Eaters, but somebody could have seen Harry Potter with his daughter and thought it would be a good idea to take her.

“Lose something?” an amused voice said from behind. Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around. Oliver Wood grinned at him and motioned with his head to look down. Ayida was holding Wood’s hand, a sucker sticking out of her mouth.

“Ayida, don’t ever let me lose sight of you again!” he breathed, stooping down to pick her up. “I was so worried.”

Ayida dropped her head against his shoulder contritely. “I sorry, daddy.”

Ron looked back at them from down the street, threw his hands up and jogged back to them. Harry turned to Wood. “Thank you, Oliver. I didn’t know if somebody had taken her or if she had just disappeared by herself.”

“It’s no problem, Harry. I spotted her wandering by Gladrag’s happy as you please, singing a little song to herself. I hope you don’t mind that I gave her a lolly. She asked me for a sweet as soon as she laid eyes on me.”

“No, that’s fine,” Harry smiled, petting her hair. “I promised her something after lunch.”

“Hey, Wood,” Ron puffed. “You found the little squirt then?”

Harry blinked, staring at Wood, something occurring to him then. Hermione had said that Matthew had to go away because of something with the team…. It had never added up in Harry’s mind, but now here Wood was in Hogsmeade.

“Oliver, didn’t you have something with the Arrows the past couple weeks?”

Wood blinked. “What are you talking about? Practice doesn’t start for a few weeks yet.”

“So you didn’t have to go anywhere?” A lead weight dropped into Harry’s stomach.

“No, why do you ask?”

Harry turned to glare at Ron. “Because Hermione told me some cock and bull story about Matthew needing to go somewhere for the team. He’s been gone for a little over a week, and he has never called. Ron, where the hell is he?”

Ron closed his eyes tightly. “Shit,” he whispered. “I did not foresee this happening.”

“Ron!”

Grimacing, Ron opened his eyes. “He’s in Puerto Rico, but I’m not supposed to tell you! Hermione will kill me, and possibly a few others would like to get their hands on me if I say anything.”

“Why is he in Puerto Rico?” Harry insisted fiercely.

“I’m sorry, mate, I can’t tell you.”

Harry clenched his jaw. “Well… is he working on some sort of surprise?”

Ron blinked. “Er – yes… well, not really, no.”

“Ron, what is it!” he demanded loudly.

“I can’t tell you because the Ministry is involved in it!” the redhead finally whispered fiercely. “He’s doing something for the Ministry there.”

“He said he wasn’t going to do anything like that until he was done with Quidditch! Why would he work for them?”

Ron looked pained. “It’s something to do with Narcissa Malfoy.”

Harry grew stony, a tight knot forming in his stomach. “Bloody hell,” Wood whispered. “Why’s he getting mixed up in things like that?”

Ron hit his forehead with his palm repeatedly. “Because he loves Harry! Quit asking questions! Both of you before you get me knocked off!”

“You’re not going to get knocked off, Ron,” Harry said annoyed.

Exasperation and betrayal had settled into the pit of his stomach, and he was in the need of more answers. What was going on? Did they have something on Narcissa?

“Where in Puerto Rico, Ron?” he asked.

The redhead groaned, his shoulders slumping. “San Juan. He’s in a hotel in the wizarding district. I don’t know the name and I don’t know when he’s coming back. Do you want me to take Ayida to mum’s?”

Harry’s face split into a wide grin. “You’re the best, Ron, thanks! Ayida, do you want to go to grandmum’s?”

“Yeah!”

“Good. Follow me home, Ron. I’ll pack her up and then you can take her. Thanks, Oliver for finding her!”

Oliver waved bewildered as Ron and Harry disappeared.

Harry dashed about the entire day, readying himself to leave. Ron told Hermione what he had done, and knowing she could do nothing to stop Harry, gave him advice instead. Instead of getting a portkey to Puerto Rico, he got one to the Florida Keys. From there he would Floo to Puerto Rico. That way the Ministry would not become immediately suspicious when checking the travel reports. Hermione said that they would probably be alerted to his presence immediately anyway, but she thought that perhaps they could sneak him in somehow.

The day was long and it was after eleven at night in England before Harry Floo’d into the hotel in which Matthew was staying at. Hermione had his room number as she had been corresponding with him the whole time, so he marched straight up to the top floors where Matthew’s suite was located. The day had yet to end here, and the sky looked overcast as if the weather had been less than perfect all day. But the weather was not why he was here. His heart pounded as he knocked on the door. From within, he could hear Matthew muttering something.

“It’s not six yet, Dr…” Matthew trailed off as he fully opened the door and saw Harry standing before him.

“Ho… how did you know where I am?”

The annoyance Harry had felt all day had been a slight buzzing in his ears, but now it was a full out ringing. Now he was fuming. The plan had been to not say anything about Ron revealing Matthew’s location, but it spewed from his mouth. “Ron told me,” he snapped, pushing into the room. “But the real question is, Matt, what are you doing in San Juan when you really don’t need to be here? Leave it to the Aurors to do whatever they need to do with Narcissa. What is she to you?”

Matthew closed the door and leaned against it. Harry turned around, his hands on his hips. “Why did he tell you?” Matthew asked faintly. Harry thought he looked a bit green in the face.

“Because I made him!” He threw his hands up. “I ran into Oliver Wood this afternoon and he said that there was nothing going on with the team. So why are you here and why are Hermione and Ron in on it? More importantly, what does the Ministry have on Narcissa? If they have something, I want to know!”

Matthew’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, his forehead breaking out in a light sweat. “It’s complicated,” he said quietly. Harry watched as the other man pushed away from the door and began to walk past, not making eye contact. He reached out and pressed his hand against Matthew’s stomach.

“Well, I have time to listen.”

“Actually,” Matthew stepped back, “I don’t. I have din…”

Anger boiled up, spilling out in a shout. “Skip it! I came here for answers and I’ll get them before I leave, Matthew!”

There was something different. Something had changed; it was in the air, almost tangible. Matthew’s face remained screwed up as if he was in pain, and he would not look anywhere but at the floor. Suddenly, everything was altered, Harry’s emotions, Matthew’s course of action…. Harry had lost a battle and he had not known that he was in one. He had lost Matthew, and he was alone again. A certain pressure began within Harry’s chest, agony… frantic loneliness… fear. “Please… Matt,” he pled quietly, moving in front of the taller man as close as he could get. “Please.” He leaned up and kissed Matthew gently, but he pulled away.

Oh… there it was, Harry thought, a knife of pain ripping across his chest. It was over. But why? He whimpered pathetically and staggered over to a chair and sat heavily. “What happened?”

Matthew had turned away from Harry, his eyes closed as if it would help block out his voice. Finally, after many moments of silence, Matthew turned to face him, but still, his eyes were glued to the floor. “Do you want to know why?”

“Yes!” Harry sat forward in his seat.

“It’s because… I’ve known since the day after Ayida’s birthday party that I have to break up with you.”

Harry stared up at Matthew, disbelief in every line of his face. “No… you don’t,” he whispered. “I, I don’t want to break up.”

“Neither do I,” Matthew confessed.

“Then you don’t…. Dammit, the least you could do is look at me, Matthew!”

“Don’t shout, Harry. I’ll look at you if you promise to keep calm through what I have to tell you.”

“You have more?”

“I have to give you the reason don’t I?”

Finally, he looked up, a quiet sob of breath escaping when he laid eyes on Harry. “Don’t look like that,” he whispered.

“Like what?”

“So small and scared. You’ll be fine without me, believe me. I would never break up with you if I didn’t believe that.” The two men stared at each other. “Can I sit with you?”

Harry scooted over in the large chair in answer. Matthew wedged himself in and after a few instants of awkward shifting, Harry was firmly ensconced within Matthew’s arms, looking and feeling for the entire world happier just to have the safe contact.

“Tell me it’s a lie,” Harry said, softly rubbing his thumb against Matthew’s chest.

“I wish I could. But really the only lie I’ve told and convinced myself on is that we could be happy together.”

“We can be! We are!”

“I spoke to Narcissa at Ayida’s party.”

Harry stiffened, even though he knew the conversation would inevitably lead to the woman sooner or later, he had not expected it so suddenly. “Is she the reason you’re breaking up with me?”

“No. But she led me to the reason I’m breaking up with you. Actually, she led the Ministry.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, Harry. I don’t know how to start.”

Harry sat in silence, contemplating. He was not sure either, because he did not know how the story started. Of course, that was a good a place as any. “Begin at the beginning – the day you realised we can’t be together.”

Matthew nodded, and seemed to be thinking of the perfect place to begin. “Well,” he said, “there’s always a good and a bad to a story, but to understand the bad, I’ll have to start with the good.”

“There’s still a good and bad to this? Because I thought we had already covered the bad,” Harry sighed, burrowing against the other man.

“Trust me, Harry,” he scoffed, “when I tell you even the bad news you’ll look back and wonder why you cared that I broke up with you.”

“Then quit stalling.”

“Okay,” he rubbed his face. “After I spoke to Narcissa, my hackles were raised. I became very suspicious of what she might be hiding, and I wanted answers. I asked Hermione to take me to Draco’s grave. When we went to the cemetery, it was to discover if anything was amiss. Both Hermione and I looked… and saw nothing but an empty coffin.”

“What?” Harry choked, the blood draining from his face. He suddenly felt numb. It couldn’t be true. Not after he had stopped believing…. “Somebody took his body?” he asked tremulously.

“We couldn’t have been sure but I had a theory – a very accurate one as it turned out.”

“God… Narcissa?”

Matthew nodded. “Hermione offered her connections at the Ministry and they began following her. Two weeks ago, she came here to San Juan.”

“Why?” Harry whispered, his hands beginning to shake as they always did when faced with the enormity of his emotions concerning anything Malfoy.

“For brunch…” Matthew stalled again, reaching out to hold Harry’s arm. Harry felt him squeeze gently. He prepared himself for the worst. “She came here to eat brunch with Draco.”

Harry felt the words slowly filter his brain but did not understand what he was hearing. He swallowed three times and blinked rapidly before he finally grasped the concept. Narcissa had brunched with Draco – a dead man. It was ridiculous. Yet, his hands shook uncontrollably. Over the past year, Harry had slowly become numb to the idea that Draco was dead. It was just something that was. It was something that he was forced to live with. He could not remember the last time he had shed a tear over it. The only thing he felt when he thought of Draco was a cold sort of numbness. Draco was dead.

Suddenly, a chuckle escaped his mouth. It was absurd! There was no way Narcissa could have been seen with her son. He was dead! Everybody knew it, including Matthew. How dare he make such an assumption? How dare he disrespect the dead in such a way as to cast some silly charm to see through the ground? Harry continued to laugh.

“This is a joke, isn’t it, Matt?” He did not hold the humour long. His face turned hard just as suddenly as he had laughed. “Well, it’s not funny, you son of a bitch! Don’t EVER joke about Draco being alive, because you won’t get me to laugh, Matthew!”

“I’m not trying to be funny, Harry,” Matthew held his hands up, his face serious. “Believe me, I wish it had been anybody but me that had to tell you, but I was the only one suspicious enough to go this far with it. I’m telling you the truth, Harry. This is your good news. I’m telling you that by some miracle, Draco is alive. You’ve been right this whole time. I don’t think he would ever be weak enough to kill himself. Ask Ron and Hermione. They know about it too, and it killed them to keep it from you. I think it’s the only reason Ron wasn’t able to keep his fat mouth shut.”

The news began to sink further in. Matthew would not lie about something like this. He wouldn’t. But it was so unbelievable. Harry felt the hard lines of his face fall; the rigid muscles in his shoulders and back begin to slacken. “If I find out you’re lying to me, Matt…” he left the rest unspoken.

“I would never do that to you, Harry. I know how much you love Draco.” Matthew smiled. “I can understand why you love him. I’ve met him, you know. The pictures you have don’t do him justice. He’s amazing.”

It was an incredible thing to think that Draco was actually doing something at that very moment. He was talking. He was laughing. He was walking. Yet it hurt so badly. They had made sure it was Draco’s body before he was buried. It had been Draco. Harry had kissed his lips, had smoothed his hair, and it had been Draco, no matter how cold and unresponsive. It had only been Harry’s stubborn insistence that he was still alive, yet all along, he knew that he had never really believed it. It just hurt too badly to think that it was true. He felt his bottom lip quiver, but he bit it. His eyes were dark and wide, but unseeing as they stared across the room out the window.

“And his laugh,” Matthew continued, “always sounds like he’s pulled off some magnificent scheme.”

“It does!” Harry murmured, his eyes lighting. “I’ve never thought of it that way. It really does!”

Harry felt Matthew’s eyes on him, but did not dare look. He could feel the sadness from him, but he chose to block it. There was too much else to process. “Somebody has been following him and taking pictures,” Matthew said. “I asked for some of them so that I could give them to you when you found out. I was looking at them when you came. Accio, pictures!” A large stack of pictures flew from beneath the duvet and into Matthew’s hand, which he immediately handed to Harry.

Slowly, Harry reached out and grabbed them, gasping as he caught sight of the blond in the picture. “He’s changed so much,” he whispered, pulling the pictures nearer to his face. The picture had been taken at the gym, and Draco wore a tight tank top and shorts, just as he had the first time Matthew and he had met. “His hair is long… and darker,” Harry mused, touching Draco’s head with his fingertip. “Why?” He looked up to Matthew for an answer.

“For a disguise,” he responded with a sigh.

Harry blinked, unable to understand why Draco would want a disguise. But there were more pictures to look through before more confusing questions were brought up. Flipping through them, he saw Draco in his various activities throughout the day. There were many of Draco in a club dancing with different men, but mainly a man with a shaved head. A ball of jealousy rose in Harry’s throat, and he tried swallowing against it, but it was stuck. It was choking him. He sat staring hatefully at the strange man for a few minutes.

Sensing his feelings, Matthew made him flip to the next picture. “It’s just his American friend, Stuart. As far as I know, they’re nothing else to each other.”

The more pictures they looked through, the more hesitant Harry became. If Draco was alive, why had he not come home? He had to have read the paper and saw that Harry was actually alive! Why was he seemingly in hiding? After all the trouble did Draco decide that he did not want to chance going through it again?

“What was it?” Harry did not realise he had spoken aloud until Matthew squeezed his knee.

“What was what?”

However, Harry did not get a chance at answering. Somebody was pounding on the door, yelling for Matthew. “Matt, you great sod, open up! I won’t be stood up for dinner. I demand your company at your own leaving feast, might I remind you!”

“Bloody hell,” Matthew whispered, checking his watch.

It felt as though Harry’s heart had stopped. That voice… that haughty, demanding voice…. “That’s Draco,” he stammered quietly. The pictures fell from his suddenly limp hand. “It’s Draco,” he repeated. It had not felt real until now, now that he could hear Draco.

“I was supposed to meet him for dinner at six,” Matthew said frantically, kneeling to the floor to pick up the photos.

“Pickleworms, open the door before I break it down!”

“Hold on, you bloody wanker!” Matthew yelled back, his face red from nervousness. He slid the pictures beneath the chair and grabbed Harry’s wrists. “There’s more I haven’t told you yet,” he whispered hurriedly. “Stay here. I’ll try to make him stay out. But I have a feeling he’ll want to come in to wait until I’m ready. If he does come in, don’t under any circumstances act like you know him, Harry.”

Harry scoffed. “Why would I do that? He’s my husband!”

Matthew’s face was hard and his grip tight on his wrists. “And he doesn’t know it. Don’t act like you know him. When he looks at you blankly, don’t get that wounded puppy dog look on your face…. You’re doing it now. Stop it. We’re not bringing him into this until the time is right, and now is NOT the time, Harry, I mean it.”

“But I’m his husband!” he exclaimed. “He’ll know who I am! There’s no way he could act as though he doesn’t know me, Matt!”

Matthew turned back, his face worried and annoyed at the same time. “Unless you want to ruin everything, act like you don’t know him and everything will be fine. Got it? You have never met him!”

“Open the door!” Draco pounded.

Still, nothing made sense. If Draco came in, what was Harry supposed to do? He did not know if he could control himself. Draco was alive! They could be together again! Ayida would never have to grow up not knowing who her father was. Draco would be such a good father, Harry knew it. So what made Matthew think he could stand in their way of being happy? Draco deserved it after such a long time. And so do I, Harry thought, getting angrier by the minute at Matthew.

Harry stood as Matthew opened the door. There was a wall blocking the view, so Harry could not see what was happening or what Draco looked like today. Oh, he wanted so badly to just get a glimpse. Suddenly, he felt hatred towards Matthew, standing in the way of his husband. He wanted him back!

“About time,” Harry heard Draco say from the door. “I might have grown a beard waiting for you.” Harry smiled tremulously to himself. Draco rarely needed to shave, and would barely be able to grow a beard even with a hair growing potion.

“Can you even grow facial hair?” Matthew voiced his thoughts.

“Of course I can. I don’t even have to think about it and it grows.” Harry heard a scuffle and finally, somebody took a deep breath. “And I must say that you’re being exceptionally rude tonight. Will you not let me in, you great brute? You owe me that much after standing me up.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Matthew apologised. “But a friend from back home paid me a surprise visit. We forgot the time.”

“From England?” Draco asked interestedly. “You don’t want me to meet your friend, is that it? Were you shagging? That’s why it took you so long to answer the door, isn’t it? You were!” There was a smile in his voice. “And it wasn’t Potter, was it?” Harry’s heart skipped. He knew about their relationship? “Afraid I might call your boyfriend and tell him that you’ve been unfaithful?”

“Fuck,” Harry muttered, closing his eyes tight. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You can quit foaming at the mouth, Kalen, we weren’t shagging.”

Harry made a noise in the back of his throat, a noise which made Draco laugh. Kalen?

“Not shagging, eh? Your friend doesn’t seem to think so.”

“He was clearing his throat,” Matthew lied. “He’s getting over a cold.”

“Oh, so he’s a he, is he? Is he my type?”

“Probably, he’s dark and handsome if you’re in to that sort of thing.”

“I’m not leaving until you let me in and meet this bloke.”

Matthew began to protest, but Harry was taking a deep breath, readying himself. “Matt,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared it and tried flattening his hair. “Quit being such a twit. Let him in.” Matthew would be furious, he knew, but could not bring himself to care. Inwardly, he grinned.

“Ah, a man with manners. I like him already.”

It seemed Matthew relented, because Harry heard the door close and suddenly, Draco whisked into the room, stopping and turning as he spotted Harry from the corner of his eye. Harry immediately felt himself flush pink, his glasses sliding down his nose. He felt so inadequate next to Draco for the first time in his memory. It had always been accepted by Harry that Draco just had more class than he did, but now he wished he had had time to change from his old jeans and even older flannel. Harry’s knees went weak as he looked at Draco, unable to believe that he was looking at a living, breathing, talking Draco. The blond was wearing a blue casual dress shirt with grey trousers and flip flops. His long hair was down, but cast neatly over his shoulders. Harry did not know if he liked the long hair, but at least it was not as long as Lucius’ was. It came to rest just below his shoulders.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, Harry waiting expectantly for a trace of recognition, before a brilliant smile lit Draco’s face. The smile held nothing Harry wanted to see and the expectation slowly filtered from his face into a small frown. Still, the smile sent a twinge through his stomach and made his breath quicken. “I can see why Matthew did not want to open the door with such a captivating gentleman for company.”

Harry blushed hard as Draco extended his hand. “Kalen Mortimer.”

When Matthew nodded fiercely from behind Draco, Harry took his hand. “Harry Potter.” Harry stared hard at his face, still waiting for something. It did not seem to be forthcoming.

“Potter?” he asked sounding pleasantly surprised. “I never dreamed it would be you in here. So you were shagging then?”

Harry opened his mouth to say something but nothing but a small squeak came out. Matthew interrupted, and Harry hoped Draco had not heard it. “Kalen, if you would give Harry and me a half hour, I can meet you for dinner then.”

“And you think I should trust you again to be prompt?”

“I need to speak to Harry about an important matter. I will be there.”

Draco looked back and forth between them. “With Potter I hope?”

“If he wishes it so,” Matthew shrugged.

Draco turned to Harry hopefully. “Do you wish it, Potter?” he mocked Matthew.

Haltingly, Harry nodded, smiling forcefully.

“Lovely! I’ll wait for you both in the lobby downstairs.”

Draco swept from the room just as quickly as he had come, leaving Harry free to collapse back into the chair. He curled into a ball, deliberately hiding his face from Matthew as he approached.

“I wanted you to know before you saw him, Harry. His memory has been altered. The Ministry is trying to find solid proof to get Narcissa in Azkaban for it, but it’s been difficult.”

“Exactly how bad is it?” Harry whispered against his arms.

There was a pause. “Basically… Draco’s memory has been exorcised of you. He has absolutely no remembrance of ever meeting you. That’s the sole reason he hasn’t come back to find you. He didn’t know, Harry. He still doesn’t, but with your help he could find his way back. I’ve spoken to him about it and there’s no doubt in my mind with the sheer desperation he has to remember, that he will remember someday.”

With no little embarrassment, Harry felt his entire body visibly shaking. There was no help for it. Magic, fuelled by fear, anger, hurt, and so many other things had begun to boil deep within his gut. The magic was tangible as it worked through his tissues, veins, and out from his very pores. Suddenly, the mirror across the room exploded in thousands of tiny shards. Harry heard Matthew swear and collapse to the floor in surprise.

“IT’S NOT FAIR!” Harry screamed, still hiding his face. He flew from the chair with a strangled yell. Matthew was standing up again, realising that the mirror had not had enough force to fly across the room at him, and was studying Harry warily as he paced the room in a furious cloud. The thoughts racing in Harry’s head were not clear and even as he paced to a spot near Matthew and placed his hands on the wall, hanging his head, he was not sure what he was thinking.

“I’ll kill her,” he breathed viciously, and then brought his hand back and punched the wall. “Bitch!”

From behind Matthew took hold of his arms and turned him. “Let go,” Harry grit out, but Matthew held tight to him in a hug. Harry did not fight, but stood ridged in the taller man’s arms. “I’ll kill her,” he said again, “I killed her husband, and I’ll kill her too.”

Matthew tensed, and Harry vaguely thought of the fact that he had not told Matthew of what he had done to Lucius Malfoy. But Matthew did not ask.

“You’ll wait for the Ministry to apprehend her and then you’ll testify at her trial, if they give her one. Then she’ll go to Azkaban where she belongs. And you… you, Harry will get to be with Draco. He’ll remember what you are to each other, and you’ll make sure that nothing separates you again.”

Slowly, the anger began dissipating with every word spoken. Now leaning limply against Matthew, Harry returned the hug. “If only it were that simple.” As quickly as he had leaned into the hug, he pulled out and paced at the end of the bed. “Do you know what it’s like?” he asked quietly. “The last time I saw him, he was lying on a cold slab of plastic. It was him, Matthew. We made sure of it. It was him and he was alive. The whole time. I shouldn’t have left him there.”

“You couldn’t have known, Harry.”

“How did she do it then? He was dead! I still almost think that he was a mirage just now, Matt. What do you think that’s like, Matt, to see somebody you’ve believed dead for so long?”

Matthew shook his head. “I don’t know. But, Harry, you’ve never really believed he was dead. You made sure to tell me that when we first met.”

Harry smiled sadly. “Denial is powerful, isn’t it? I didn’t want to see what everybody else saw. I didn’t think I could live with it. Besides, nothing ever added up, nothing. His autopsy reports never were released to me when I asked, and I never believed he could commit suicide, and the timing… it was too perfect. That’s why I didn’t let it go for so long. I needed to hang onto something.” He let out a bitter breath of air. “Apparently I should have hung on a bit longer.”

Matthew did not say anything for a long time, apparently unsure he could say anything. In his silence, Harry slumped to the bed in defeat. “I just don’t understand how she could do it,” Harry whispered. “How could she keep a little girl from her father – her own granddaughter? Ayida didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“Because of how you have raised her, Harry, she knows who he is. She knows his face.” Suddenly, Matthew chuckled and came to sit beside him. “I don’t think I told you, but a few months ago I was with her in the living room when you were upstairs. She looked at a picture of Draco and said, ‘That’s my other daddy, Matthew. He’s gone.’ Then I told her that yes, he was gone, but he sure did miss her.” Harry sniffed. “Her eyes got really wide and she said, ‘I love him.’ So, I told her that when I talked to him next time, I would tell him that she loved him a lot. Only at the time I never thought I would get to talk to Draco.”

Harry sighed. “She’s so young still. When she grows up, she’ll probably have little to no memory of Draco not being around. But Draco… he’ll remember every day that he missed so much. I just know he’ll be devastated when I tell him about Ayida.” He paused, his voice cracking when he spoke again. “I… I just want him to know me. I don’t want to have to explain things he should know.”

Smiling slightly, Matthew clapped him on the shoulder and stood. “But you’ll do what you have to get what you love back. We’ll start with dinner.”

As Matthew began backing away, sudden inspiration hit. “It’s you,” Harry whispered. “You found him.”

“The Ministry found him, not me.”

“But they only looked because of what you did.”

“Hermione was pushing me to do it. I never would have spoken to Narcissa if not for her.”

“Maybe so, but I’m thanking you right now. Really, Matt, you could have let things lie. I know how you feel about me even if you’ve never said it.” Harry glanced down briefly but forced himself to look Matthew in the eye. “It’s taken me a while to figure it out, but I can see it now when you look at me. Finding Draco was one of the most selfless things anybody has ever done for me.”

Matthew shook his head. “It was completely selfish on my part, Harry. Stop giving me so much credit.”

Harry shrugged. “It could have been selfish in a way. But it wasn’t when all is said and done. And… it might not be what you’ve hoped for, but I do love you in my own way.”

Matthew was looking steadily at the floor, his jaw clenching reflexively. “I never wanted to say it.”

“Then don’t. I’m not asking you to.”

“But maybe it will help… in some way – for closure.”

“What do you want?”

Matthew stepped forward again and pulled Harry to his feet. “I want to say that… I love you. I love everything about you from your hair to your webbed toes –”

“I don’t have webbed toes!” Harry exclaimed.

Matthew grinned. “Your second and third toe is webbed on both your feet. It’s not noticeable until you look closely.”

“You’ve been looking closely?” Harry’s nose scrunched up.

“I like feet.” Matthew wrapped his arms about Harry’s waist. Unhesitant, Harry wrapped his right arm around Matthew’s neck and his left around his torso, unable to bring it up further. Matthew looked down at it with a smile. “I love your special hugs, too. I know you hate not having full use of your arm, but I love watching you get through obstacles with it. I liked to kiss your arm when we made love. I used to think your arm would be better when we were done, but it was always a silly thought.” Harry smiled.

“I noticed you often paid extra attention to it.”

Matthew slowly nodded, his face turning sober. “I’ve just always wanted to take all your pain away, so… here I am in Puerto Rico handing you over to Draco.”

“Matt,” Harry whispered, pulling his head to his. Matthew was willing as their lips met. He grasped the back of Harry’s head as Harry coaxed his mouth open.

“Love you,” he murmured, pulling away and placing short kisses on Harry’s mouth and cheeks. Harry stilled his head and kissed him again, kissing him slowly and with care. Harry remembered the anger he had felt at Matthew minutes before when he blocked Draco’s entrance, but now all he felt was gratitude. He almost wished he could feel more for Matthew’s sake, but there had never been anything here except a deep physical attraction and an even deeper need to not feel so alone.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, pulling away.

“We should go before we’re late,” Matthew blinked tightly.

“Where are we going anyway?” Harry asked, the awkwardness in the room mounting. He straightened his clothes nervously.

Matthew licked his lips. “Just a restaurant down the street that Draco is rather fond of. I’ve been there once with him. It’s good.”

Shifting uncomfortably under Matthew’s eyes, Harry began turning for the door. “Well, then….” He reached for the door handle.

“Wait, Harry. You should change.”

Looking down, it looked as though there was nothing wrong with his attire. Frowning, he turned back to see Matthew digging through his bag, which looked neat as if he had just packed it. “I have something that would look good on you.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with what I’m wearing,” Harry sulked, crossing his arms across his chest. Of course, he felt more self-conscious than before now that Matthew mentioned how horrendous he looked, but was not ready to admit that he looked a fool.

“Under normal circumstances, there’s absolutely nothing wrong. But I guess that you want to impress Draco. Therefore, an old flannel and old, baggy jeans won’t do the trick.”

“I don’t want to wear one of those silly shirts you wear when you go out.” Matthew whipped out a smooth green t-shirt with a grin. “It isn’t silly and once I’ve shrunk it to fit you, you’ll look gorgeous. Besides, your shirt is too hot for Puerto Rico. You’ll sweat, believe me.”

“Fine! But I’m not changing my trousers.” Harry hurriedly unbuttoned his flannel and let it fall to the floor. He watched Matthew’s eyes quickly revert back to his bag as he caught sight of Harry’s chest. Blushing slightly, Harry pulled the shirt on. It was much too big for him as Matthew was so much taller and built than he.

“Let me,” Matthew murmured, taking out his wand and shrinking the fabric to fit in all the right places. The shirt was snug now, hugging his chest and biceps, the hem stopping just below the waistline of the jeans. Harry shifted, tugging at the end. “Stop it,” Matthew chastised. “You’ll stretch it out again. Please let me shrink your jeans a little, Harry. They just don’t go with that shirt.”

“No!” Harry moved backward. “I told you just the shirt!”

“But you look silly now with that shirt on!”

“Then I’ll put my flannel back on,” Harry stuck his nose up stubbornly.

“You will do no such thing! Do you want Draco to fancy you or not?”

Very subtly, Harry’s shoulders slumped. “I want much more than that from him,” he said quietly.

Silence fell between them and for long moments, neither moved. Finally, Matthew checked his watch. “We’ll be late if we carry on. Harry, I know you want more than that, but for now, you’ll just have to settle for him being mildly attracted to you. So, just let me shrink your jeans.”

“Fine. I don’t see why it matters,” he sulked as Matthew set to work, his wand waving quickly about his legs. “He liked me fine before.”

There was nothing more to say as they set out for the lobby. Matthew walked paces behind Harry the entire way, unsettling his already frazzled nerves. The lift felt as though it was impossibly slow, and both men nearly collapsed out of it for the tension between them was so high. Harry could feel Matthew’s eyes constantly on him, and could only imagine what he must be thinking. Harry, though he felt miserable at the thought that he had made Matthew fall in love with him, just wished Matthew would leave and move on with his life. It was intolerably selfish, especially after Harry had been very willing to move on with another man, even when he had never been sure of Draco’s death. It was his own fault, and he would have to deal with Matthew’s feelings. Thoughtlessly, he still wished Matthew had not fallen for him.

In the lobby, Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry craned his neck looking everywhere, all the while very aware that his shirt was riding up his side. Matthew was too busy searching for Draco to notice. “I’ll never forgive you for these clothes,” Harry hissed, coming up behind the taller man. “They’re agonizing. The shirt keeps riding up my side and my jeans are hugging me too tight, especially on my arse.”

“You’re just not used to them yet,” Matthew said back distractedly walking to the exit. “That’s what makes them look so good on you. Believe me, you look brilliant. Ah, there he is.”

Harry looked to where Matthew’s eyesight was leading and saw Draco just outside the doors, leaning casually against a wall. The wind had picked up in the day and it blew wisps of Draco’s hair in his face. He blew it impatiently from his face, but it blew back just as soon. His brow furrowed in frustration as he tucked the strands behind his ear. Harry felt a fire of want ignite within his chest at the sight of the blond.

“I wish he’d get his hair back to the way it was,” Harry said wistfully as they approached the doors. “It’s too dark now… and long.”

Draco looked up and through the glass then, his face lighting as he saw them. Harry quickly looked away as they caught eyes, blushing. “Four minutes late,” Draco declared upon their exit of the building. He looked Harry up and down. “I’ll speculate that the change in wardrobe had something do with it. My goodness, you should acquire more confidence, Potter. You’re really quite handsome. Quit slouching,” he gently hit Harry’s shoulder. Harry swallowed nervously and did as he was told, not able to bring his face to meet the blonde’s. “I’m making you nervous,” Draco observed with a smile. “You’re practically sweating.”

“He’s always like this when he’s attracted to somebody,” Matthew offered. “You should have seen him when we first met.”

Harry looked to the ground, his face flaming with embarrassment, though he could offer no good explanation for it. It was true, after all. “Matthew,” he hissed. He had done something like this when he had first met Matthew, but this was different. His feelings for Draco were on an entirely different level. Nonetheless, it was still painfully embarrassing for Draco to know. Draco’s infuriating smirk made the situation even more painful. Harry inwardly cringed at what the blond might be cooking up to say in response. However, Harry was to be disappointed in a witty retort.

“Come, Potter,” Draco grabbed his hand and squeezed gently. “Let’s go to dinner. I’m simply ravenous, aren’t you?”

Shyly, Harry looked at him from the corner of his eye as Draco began to lead him along the sidewalk, Matthew trailing. “I could eat.”

Draco was looking sideways at him, a soft smile on his face. “Wonderful,” he said, still studying Harry carefully. Harry bit his lip nervously, glancing between the ground and Draco. Draco winked at him before he turned back to look at Matthew. “Hurry along up here, Pickleworms. There’s no need to lag behind, now is there?”

Matthew hastened his step to walk alongside Draco, smiling forcefully as he did so. Harry looked up to see Draco make a meaningful gesture for Matthew to take his hand, but Matthew shook his head, whispering, “It’s okay, Draco.” Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief when Draco just shrugged and continued holding his hand. The situation was already so unbelievable, so the hand he held was a soft and solid anchor to reality. This was real. Draco was alive and real, holding his hand.

“This is it,” Draco announced as he steered them into a quaint building. The inside was small and private; candles lit the tables while a soft, magical light glowed around the edges of the ceiling. The walls were dark red, decorated with what appeared to be Puerto Rican magical artefacts and documents. Though it looked as though they were to wait to be seated, Draco went straight to a table in a back corner. It was a half circle, the seats wrapped around the circular portion. Draco motioned for Harry to sit, and reluctantly, Harry withdrew his hand, furtively smoothing his thumb along Draco’s. Scooting in onto the plush leather seat, Draco sat on one side and Matthew on the other. Menus appeared on the table in front of them quickly followed by small glasses, which were filled with water.

“Don’t bother with the menus,” Draco commanded, stacking them together and setting them in the middle of the table. They disappeared. “I know what’s good here. I’ll order for you…. That is if you trust me, Potter.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Harry smiled. “A friend of Matthew’s is a friend of mine. I trust you.”

“Great, you’ll love what I pick out. Anyway…” he set his small glass of water in the middle of the table, murmuring, “Traiga detrás.”

Harry blinked, trying not to show his surprise that Draco knew Spanish. “Is this your first trip to San Juan, Potter?”

“First time, yes,” he nodded, sipping from his own water.

“It’s beautiful here. I love it. I assume that you’re leaving again with Matthew tonight?”

Harry blinked again, looking to Matthew in slight surprise. He had not realised that Matthew was going home tonight. Their noticeable pause in conversation was saved by the arrival of the waiter asking what they wanted in Spanish. Draco began conversing with him fluently. Harry marvelled at his ability for a moment before turning back to Matthew. “You’re leaving tonight?” he whispered fiercely.

“The Ministry is making me,” Matthew leaned in. “I didn’t want to, but I revealed that I knew who Kalen really is. I’m off the case. I’m leaving directly after I leave here.”

“What am I going to tell hi –”

“¿Qué usted tiene gusto de beber, señor?”

Blinking, Harry looked up at the waiter. “I’m sorry?”

“What do you want to drink?” Draco translated.

“Scotch on the rocks,” Matthew answered for him quickly.

Draco turned back to the waiter. “I’ll take care of it,” Matthew whispered and sat straight again.

“What were we talking about?” Draco asked as the waiter hurried away. “Oh, yes, you’re leaving tonight with Matthew?”

“Actually, he’ll be staying for a while.”

“Really?” Draco asked with interest. “I would have thought since you haven’t seen each other in so long….”

“Well,” Matthew bit his lip. “I’m fairly certain that we’ll live. Besides, we’re not even together anymore. We broke up ages ago.”

Draco looked surprised. “Sincerely? Well… that’s quite a surprise to me,” the blond said, looking between them. “I remember reading an article about you, Matt a while ago that said you hoped to settle down with Harry when you were done with Quidditch.”

“Yes…” Matthew said embarrassed. “That was me being unrealistic. I’ve always managed to fool myself when it comes to him.”

Harry became increasingly uncomfortable with the line of conversation. He shifted in his seat, and was grateful when their drinks appeared. Grabbing wildly for the scotch, he gulped down a large mouthful.

Draco looked to him curiously and then back to Matthew. “I don’t mean to pry, but how?”

“I just knew that Harry would never be able to love me. He’s the kind to give his heart out once and never do it again, no matter if the one he gave it to was long gone.”

Draco looked to Harry. “I’m sorry, Potter. We’re making you uncomfortable.”

Closing his eyes hard, Harry took a breath. “Well, it’s true. I wanted to love him, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I know I’m meant to love somebody else, and that’s all there is to say on the subject right now.” He opened his eyes and took another drink.

The table fell unnaturally silent as the other two men followed suit. “Sorry to bring it up,” Draco muttered. “I didn’t want to bring about bad memories.”

Harry sighed quietly. If only Draco knew that nothing he could say would make this situation worse. Nothing.