Dreams Of Enchantment

Further Note: For all those wondering why Harry is not paired with Hermione in this fic (although it is clearly labeled SLASH for those who read warnings), ahem, the name of the game is Let's Torture Harry A Lot. D'ya really think that if Harry woke up and Hermione was his girlfriend, it would really be such torture? *winks* Trust us, kids, we know what we're doing! There's a method to our madness - or, at least, we'd like people to think.
Even Further Other Note: Cassie is NOT Cassandra Claire - just thought we'd point that out. Again, Cassie of the Krissy & Cassie duo, Mister Bear, is *not* Cassandra Claire. Her normal pen name is, in fact, Aspen; she shares the ff.net pen name tasukichiriko with another of her writing partners, Kimmie. Cassie is her actual, real-life, given name that she decided to use for the hell of it. Sorry for any confusion?

//...// denotes thought
*...* denotes emphasis





Harry's eyes were heavy and sore when next they slowly opened, and it was dim in the room thanks to the purple twilight outside. Harry's eyes stared out his window for a blank minute before realizing that there were the silhouettes of tall, pretty trees against the violet of the sky.

//Those weren't there before.//

And as if he was suddenly back in his body from floating around numbly, he became of the arm slung around him, of something furry and ragged digging into his side, and the walls surrounding the window being an intense, deep blue colour and absolutely *plastered* with Muggle sports posters.

//Dream?!//

He jerked a little, turning over again and finding Draco Malfoy staring at him with sleepy, but aware eyes.

//Is this real? Am I dreaming again?//

He could smell Draco, feel Mister Bear smashed between them... he saw Draco's chest rising and falling... heard his soft breath, and the color of his eyes in the navy dark of his room were catching all the light there was, glittering as if enchanted.

//It feels so real.//

His cheeks were sticky with tears. Harry blinked slowly, still caught up in Draco's eyes as realizations slowly hit him. //So I... I was crying... I must... I must have just dreamed of being back at the real Privet Drive.//

He was so mixed up. He didn't know how to feel about that. He was happy to be back, but devastated to still be there. Happy that he was back with his parents, even with Draco, but scared that he'd never be able to leave this... this different... world.

Harry jumped back to attention when Draco ran a finger over his cheek, wiping away his tears' trail. Harry colored ever so faintly... surely Draco wouldn't tease him about needing a hankie like he did in the real world. To his immense relief, Draco didn't seem to have anything to say, only looking at Harry with quiet love and tracing his finger over Harry's cheekbone.

//Right now...//

Harry found himself cuddling into Draco, immensely needing the real contact. Draco was warm, and real, soft and pliant in the right places, hard with slim-cut, delicate musculature in the others. And he smelled like... Draco. Meticulously clean, sweet, sharp. It was familiar - nothing overpowering or artificial, just... Draco, who fit against him quite perfectly with the ease of experience, who held him comfortingly.

//Right now... if this is a dream...//

He could hear and even sort of feel Draco's strong, even heartbeat. Clenched fingers slowly spread out into flat palms over Draco's chest, feeling it rise and sink with shallow breath, feeling it radiate with the heat of life. Harry tilted his head up to look at Draco in the face again, who offered him a soft smile on his perfect, soft-looking mouth. Breathing halted again as Harry impulsively leaned forward and touched a shy, hesitant kiss onto Draco's mouth.

Draco kissed back, endlessly sweet.

//I don't... want to wake up.//

It felt natural, right, good. Just feeling the shape of Draco's mouth pressed tenderly against his made Harry's confusion ease and his body become slightly emotionally and physically aroused. His body felt funny sensations as Draco's heartbeat quickened beneath his palms, picking up to a rate that outpaced his own.

It was so new, but it was like they'd shared a thousand kisses before. It flowed with much more ease than the sloppy one earlier did, and Harry's jerk was only with pleasure as Draco's tongue finally brushed against his lower lip. He gasped softly and let Draco's tongue invade, and trembled slightly at the hot, slick feel of it. He tasted amazing, and pleasure quickly started seeping like a black stain over his mind. It was as if Harry's soul was a puddle and Draco kept disturbing the surface tension as the sensations rippled with every slow, understanding movement of Draco's tongue with his. Nothing had ever felt so good in such an emotionally and physically combined kind of way, not even ten thousand Cheer Charms because it wasn't giddy, not even being held by his parents, because that wasn't so arousing.

Intense. It was hot and intense.

And then Draco teased against his lips and disappeared quickly. His mouth empty and tongue still frantic, Harry sought after it, tasting the inside of Malfoy's mouth for the first time.

//Don't stop...//

At the contact, Draco made a noise that was a purr and a growl all at once, and that in turn made Harry's every nerve stand on end. Everything seemed to be sensitized now... Draco brushed his arm and he very nearly moaned.

Draco's hand moved up his arm and shoulder to his neck, cradling his head even closer in, and Harry felt their teeth click as their mouths were crushed closer. His jaw ached from his mouth being open as such, but he loved it. And then Draco was slowly maneuvering himself carefully on top of Harry's body, pressing him down into the mattress, and Harry did moan.

The hand at his neck left to attend other business, and Harry sucked in his stomach in surprise when Draco's hand slid beneath the hem of his tee shirt and up his stomach. He squirmed madly. That was *too* intense - *too* invading - he couldn't do that - not yet.

//Stop!//

Harry broke from Draco roughly with a yelp as Draco's fingers found one of his nipples and gave it a tweak. Body tensing with fear and confusion again, he managed, "Stop! Don't...!"

Draco immediately released him. "What? Did I hurt you?"

Harry panted in panic and began trying to back away from Draco, which was really quite pointless as Draco had him effectively pinned down on his back. He stared fearfully into Draco's eyes, watching the glaze melt away. Luckily, Draco felt him squirming and slid back off of him to the side. Harry immediately pushed himself back firmly against the headboard of his bed, knocking off a pillow onto the floor.

"What... what..." he was stuttering.

"You're all right, aren't you?" Draco demanded, breathing heavily.

Harry blinked hard and nodded, trying to calm himself. "I'm fine," he managed to gasp out, and finally his breathing returned to normal. "Way too fast, Draco..."

Draco blinked owlishly at him, "I don't understand. How could *that* have been too much? All we did at the ski lodge, just the other night... even *before* all that."

Harry inwardly blanched. "It's not you," he told him truthfully. //It's me. And...and how I've only *just* got my first kiss today, and how I can't even imagine doing anything more...// and a forbidden voice taunting added, //yet// added itself to his equation. After what had happened earlier, would he even be here later? Now, he wasn't so sure...

Draco's eyes narrowed, "Then what *is* it? You've been acting odd all day and I want to know what your problem is. First you act like you don't even *know* me, then forget our ski trip? You acted all surprised at either the mention of a place, or of a person. What *gives*?"

"Nothing," Harry muttered, glancing away with a frown. "Why can't you believe I just can't talk about it?" //Not that I *don't* want to, but I can't…//

"Why don't you try me?"

"You wouldn't understand!" Harry snapped. "I know you love me and everything, but you honestly have no idea what I've just been through!"

"Well, how the hell *can* I if you won't *talk* to me, Harry! I thought maybe... I thought maybe it was time for us to get on with our lives. You know? I thought... that you could finally put it behind you. At the lodge, you seemed back to your old self. It was the first time I'd seen you laugh in a month." Draco's gray eyes looked sharply at Harry. "I thought you were going to be okay. Now I think you're... I don't know, are you relapsing? Maybe you're worse off than we all thought... God, I don't *know*! So why don't you help me out a little and tell me?!"

Harry found that his hands had bunched up great fistfuls of fabric. "Relapsing?? What are you talking about? You already think I'm crazy!"

Draco clenched fists too. "Well, you're sort of acting like it!"

"I'm not supposed to be here!" yelled Harry to deafening silence. Draco was staring at him with a ghost of horror moving across his features. Harry sat, stunned at Draco's reaction. Finally, the blond boy swallowed hard.

"You know that's not true."

"And how do *you* know that, Malfoy?!" Harry suddenly reverted back to Draco's surname, feeling the familiar surge of angry annoyance that usually came with the appearance of Draco's pointed features. "I don't think *you* woke up this morning and your life was completely different than how it was before, and you *can't* go back, and you *can't* get out, and you can't make it stop and--"

"Enough!" Draco shouted. "I haven't got a clue what you're on about now! Are you delusional? Why are you acting like this now, when you seemed to be getting back to normal?? I don't understand!"

Harry sat forward eagerly. "Back to normal? What's happened?! Everyone's acting as if I've been sick or something - Draco - tell me."

"That's not funny," Draco whispered, shocked. "Harry... that isn't funny! Stop it now!"

"Believe me, Malfoy, I'm not joking."

"Stop it."

"Honestly, I'm not trying to be funny!"

"No, stop calling me by my last name like we're strangers!" snapped Draco. "It's just not enough to act like I'm some person you'd never be caught dead beside, then push me away when all I want to do is be close to you, and act like you've got no idea what I'm talking about when I say *anything,* is it?? No, please, hurt me a little more!"

"I don't belong here. This is not my life. I've never seen my mum and dad alive before," Harry muttered staunchly. "You're right when you say you haven't a clue."

"Harry, your parents are still alive."

"But they're not supposed to be!"

"Stop it, please, for the last time! Are you playing some elaborate game with my head?! You're still alive, Harry, your parents are still alive, and it's *not* your fault, and we've been over this all thirty thousand times."

Draco suddenly sat down in a huff, looking for all the world like he was old and tired, crumpling forward and putting his face in his white hands.

"What's not my fault, Draco?" Harry whispered.

Draco's body froze. "Don't," he said stiffly.

"Tell me what isn't my fault," demanded Harry. Draco lifted his head and stared at him with hard eyes and a fixed jaw that seemed ready to start trembling. Harry felt so close to finally understanding why everybody had been treating him like a little glass doll all day, afraid to handle him too roughly and see him splinter on the floor. He nearly shouted. "Tell me!!"

There was a sad silence.

And then, a few raps on Harry's door shattered the silence. Neither boy spoke, so the door creaked open only slightly. Hermione's cheerful face peered in.

"Hey, guys... Ron and I were walking to my house and we thought we'd see if you wanted to watch a movie with us and what's wrong?"

She'd belatedly caught the pained looks on their faces. She walked into the room, Ron behind her. He put on a good-natured grin.

"Aw, fighting again, lovebirds?" At the withering look from Draco, his grin dropped off. "Ouch, I seem to've stepped on sensitive toes..."

He awkwardly picked up a trophy from Harry's case and pretended to look at it, while Hermione simply looked at them both resignedly and cleared a spot on a rocker that had been completely hidden underneath a plaid bathrobe and some jackets.

"Let's talk," she suggested, folding her hands on her skirt.

Harry and Draco sat quietly, and the only noises came from Ron as he set down the trophy and picked up an identical one.

"All right," she said deliberately. "I'll start. If you're fighting about Harry's odd behaviour today, I think I could tell you something about it..."

"Doctor Hermione is in," muttered Ron from the corner.

"Well, what?" Draco asked. Harry just stared at Hermione.

"I stopped at the library after we went to Fortescue's," Hermione began, earning a grin from Harry. *That* was just like the real Hermione. "And researched a little on post-traumatic stress disorder... you know, it's really more connected with soldiers who have been to war and seen a lot of really traumatic things before their very eyes and come back shell-shocked, but... I think it could be applied in this case. It's a normal reaction after severe trauma."

"Traumatic incident?" piped Harry.

"We know, we know, you're all right now," she said as if he was seven years old on the floor playing with building blocks. "You keep telling us..."

"Well, he's being an idiot and acting like he has no clue where he even is. Is *that* normal, Hermione?!" Draco demanded. "Next thing you know, he'll be acting like he's seen Cedric..."

"Draco!" said three voices at once.

"That's really not the best thing to say right now, and you know it," Hermione rebuked.

"Where...where's Cedric?" Harry asked. He was met with an overwhelming silence, causing him to pause in hesitation. "Not a good thing to ask?"

Hermione abruptly stood up, putting a hand over her mouth and fleeing the room. Ron glanced from Harry to the front door Hermione had run out of.

"I don't know *what* your problem has been today, Harry," Ron said softly, then his voice rose, "but leave *us* out of it!" Harry watched with a sinking heart as Ron raced after Hermione, shouting, "Wait for me, 'Mione!"

Harry stared at the door for several seconds, then turned to look at Draco, who didn't say anything. "Well. Yell at me, too. I'm sure you've been *dying* to all day."

"I'd never yell at you for no reason. But you're acting extremely scary," Draco said solemnly. Harry snorted, and Draco's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You taunt and tease me for *years* and you expect me to believe that?" Harry took no notice to Draco's reaction, the rant coming out before he could think of it. "You were always so hateful and mean, sarcastic and cruel, and not some 'nice guy' like you're trying to convince me now. People who make fun of DEAD parents aren't worth the air they breathe!"

Draco blinked, then rose from his position with his arm around Harry's shoulders. "I don't know what the hell your problem is, Potter," he said, "but I second Ron. Leave *us* the hell out of it! When you can talk like yourself, you know my number." Draco's fingers fumbled with a ring on his finger.

"*I* have the problem?" Harry thundered, "I don't *think* so, Malfoy! I woke up perfectly fine, THEN I find out I have parents, YOU'RE my *boyfriend,* and I live in a town I don't know! This has to be a sick joke, and I don't appreciate it!"

"I'm a sick joke, huh?" Draco's eyes widened, then a sneer settled on his lips. Harry was suddenly reminded of *home.* "Then here," he jerked the ring off his finger and threw it at him. "Here. Consider us *over.*"

Harry stared after him, wondering what had happened. "I never even did get my answer," he muttered as leaned back with a sigh.

* * * * *

For long, blank hours, Harry laid alone in his bed and stared at his ceiling. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but there was a photograph taped to the ceiling with Scotch tape. It didn't move as wizarding photographs did, but it was of a smiling Draco and an incredibly happy-looking Harry at a formal dance, posed in front of fake columns with fake ivy and fake romantic lighting - but the love he saw between them was anything but faux. In the picture, they were both wearing nice suits; Draco's snowy white with a black dress shirt and a white silk tie, Harry's just the opposite with a red silk tie. They were both grinning proudly, boutonnieres of the purest blood red roses pinned to their jackets. They held each other close in the picture, on the verge of laughter but sincere in their efforts to get a good formal dance picture for Harry's mum.

//I don't remember that night.//

Harry twisted around Draco's ring on his thumb. It was a plain ring, kept very meticulously polished and shiny, but undecorated. If he'd gotten it for Draco, it must have taken him months to save for. Did he have a ring like it?

//I don't know.//

He stared at the picture again, mind wandering.

//I wonder if that... was before... Cedric...//

The pain of Cedric Diggory's death in his own real world was still too fresh to deal with, and Harry's eyes leaked tears again. He turned his head, squeezing his eyes shut and willing them away.

//I wonder how he... died here.//

He buried his nose in his pillow, but it only made him cry more. The pillow smelled of Draco.

//I've just screwed up things with the person I'm supposed to be practically engaged to, if this ring is any show of how devoted we're supposed to be. And Hermione... and Ron!! Maybe I *am* going mad... I still don't understand anything... did I kill Cedric here too? Was it my fault he's dead? I have to get someone to tell me...//

Rolling back onto his stomach, he sighed, feeling his taut face crumble in the wake of more tears. He suddenly wished Mrs. Weasley were there to hold him.

//That's nonsense, I've got my own mum right here,// he realized, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to face her in tears like this. //No wonder they all thought I would break... I feel like I'm being ripped apart from the inside out.//

Silently, his tears flowed, unstopping. Harry let them, not wanting his body to fight and become more upset than it already was. The photograph of this world's Harry and Draco blurred before his eyes, and slowly, he began to sit up, not bothering to wipe his cheeks. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and walked towards what appeared to be a tiny desk in the corner, covered old schoolbooks and papers in his handwriting that he couldn't remember writing. A phone number or note here, old essays there. He wiped them all side and sat with a thunk in the desk chair.

A photograph frame had been turned on to its face beneath all the junk and papers, and Harry reached forward with curiously shaky fingers to prop it back up. The large photo showed the Lions hockey team, all on skates and in their uniforms. There was Harry, right next to Draco, of course, and Ron on the other side of him, standing tall and bulky in his goalie attire. Two other redheads made the picture alight - the Weasley twins had their arms slung around each others' shoulders, grinning their devious smiles, just as identical and close as ever. And if Harry wasn't mistaken, Seamus Finnigan was kneeling on one padded knee at the end of the group, a bit distanced from everyone. In the upper corner, there was another photo tucked, Draco's personal photo, covering a fourth of the team members' faces.

He looked just as handsome with a hockey stick as he did with a broomstick.

Impulsively, Harry plucked up the photo, and discovered it had been put there for a reason, obviously.

From that corner, Cedric Diggory's winningly pretty face smiled up at him. Harry set down the frame abruptly, still staring at Cedric. He looked just as he did at Hogwarts, and even without the photo moving, he seemed -- so full of life--!

With Draco's picture still in his hand, he placed the frame back down like it had been.

//How did it happen. How?!//

He tugged open a drawer next. It was full of writing utensils and other tiny junk. The next one was full of old magazines, address books, and schedule organizers. And finally, the third one seemed to hold something of value, for it was locked.

//Great, where the hell would the key be?//

Harry was too wrapped up in looking around to fully note that his tears had stopped and had once again left tracks on his cheeks. //Maybe Ron or Draco would know...//

Harry stood up and looked at the bottom row of his trophy shelf, where his books were. There were a lot of hockey books and even more saved magazines under there, as well as a stack of Hogwarts yearbooks resting on top of a stack of smaller yearbooks dating all the way back to his first grade year of Vernon Grammar School.

"Oh my God," he whispered as he yanked the very top one from the last year off. He nearly ripped the front cover off opening it to see every crease and spare space filled with signatures of names he recognized. "'Harry, have a great summer with Malfoy and take it easy! See you when practices start up! Stay strong. Dean Thomas.'"

So went most of the signatures, wishing him well and offering condolences from "the accident."

"The accident, the accident, what *accident*?" Harry muttered, looking for a signature belonging to Hermione, Ron, or Draco. He flipped the page. There, again, was Cedric Diggory, smiling a happy-looking smile. Above his portrait, the book had big black letters stating elegantly:

"LUMOS - THE HOGWARTS HIGH SCHOOL YEARBOOK. VOLUME XXXIII. DEDICATED TO CEDRIC DIGGORY - STUDENT, LEADER, and FRIEND."

Harry almost dropped the book. Then, he flipped back to the index, ran his finger down the D's, and found "Diggory, Cedric" with about twenty-five page numbers listed next to his name. He flipped to the first one, which was his portrait again with all the other seniors, listing his activities. Harry read them all out loud with amazement.

"'Academic Letterman, Class Board, Hockey, Honor Roll, Latin Club President, Marching Band, Drum Major, Pep Club, Student Council Officer, Symphonic Band.'" Harry blinked up at his trophies. "Cedric playing a musical instrument and being an Academic Letterman? Wow."

The phrase "Hogwarts Champion" burst forward in Harry's mind. Cedric had obviously been the big man on campus.

//Just like at Hogwarts.//

Harry thumbed through the pages until they fell apart in the center of the book, sending newspaper clippings tumbling out into his lap. Confused as to why those weren't hanging with the rest, Harry picked one up.

"'STUDENT DIES IN DRUNK DRIVING ACCIDENT.' Oh... God... no! No, Voldemort killed him!"

Harry's eyes devoured the clipping with detachment.

"Cedric Diggory, age 17, died Friday night in an accident on North Privet Drive, when his 1967 Voldemort was struck by a drunk driver who ran the red light of the intersection of Privet and Pine. The other three students in the car with him were not killed. Sophomore Harry Potter, Hogwarts High School's hockey captain, who was in the back seat driver's side of the vehicle, and was rushed to Pomfrey Hospital to be treated for whiplash, multiple cuts, and shock, but sophomore Seamus Finnigan and senior Cho Chang, Diggory's girlfriend, were released by police after questioning with only few cuts and bruises that were treated by the ambulance on-scene. Ludo Bagman, 34, is in custody of police for further questioning."

Aside from the small article, the school pictures of Cedric, Cho, Seamus, and Harry himself smiled up at him. He grabbed another article that had a large black and white photo of the smashed in driver's door of Cedric's car. It made Harry wince in pain... that tiny section of the car was almost unrecognizable, and while his side had been dented and the glass smashed, the other side appeared to be just fine.

//It's a wonder the rest of us lived!//

The only new information this article presented was, "The foursome was on their way home from a date at Hogsmeade Park, when Bagman ran his red light and smashed into Diggory's vehicle at 45 kilometers per hour, sending the car of teenagers into a spin. Diggory was killed instantly, while one of his passengers was taken to the hospital for mild injuries and the other two were detained for questioning. Funeral services will be held on Monday at eleven-thirty a.m., at Seeker Anglican Church. The Diggory family asks that any and all donations made be sent to Hogwarts High School's Students Against Drunk Driving program."

Harry flumped onto his back suddenly, the book resting on his stomach and the articles he'd clipped and saved still in piles on his lap.

//'The foursome was on their way home from a date.' Cho and Cedric... but... me and Seamus? This was only just at the end of the school year, and I've been dating Draco for a year now! What on earth was going on? And Bagman!! Driving drunk!//

The piles and piles of new information made Harry's head spin, completely overwhelmed once more.

//Seamus Finnigan. Why was I with Seamus Finnigan? Did Draco know about this?//

Suddenly, he sat up. He needed one of those address books, and needed it fast.

* * * * *

It was nearly eleven-thirty at night, but Harry knew he had to talk to Ron as soon as possible. Luckily, the Weasleys' phone number was easily found, and Harry looked about his room for a phone. He found a cordless one hidden under a pile of dirty underwear.

"Honestly, I need to clean my room," he muttered, dialing. "At least Mrs. Weasley can't send me a howler for calling so late."

A few tones and someone picked up. "Hello?" It was Ginny.

"Er... hello... Ginny?"

"Harry, it's so late! Are you all right?" asked Ginny. Harry bit his lip. Even Ginny thought he was on the edge of it all? That was rather bad. He had to wonder if she had a crush on him in this world, too.

"I'm just fine," he assured her. "But I need to talk to Ron, it's sort of urgent."

"Hmm, I think he might still be at Hermione's... hold on, let me check for you." There was a click as she sat the phone down and ran off. "Ron!" he heard her distant voice yell. "It's Harry for you, he says it's urgent."

"I don't want to talk to him!" Ron's voice protested. "He was a real git today, upset 'Mione so much..."

"Oh, Ron, just talk to him... he needs a friend right now, you've said so yourself a million times." Ginny's voice was growing louder again, so Harry hoped she was bringing Ron with her. There was a shuffle and a slight grunt of protest from Ron, then:

"Hullo?"

"Ron, I apologize. WHY WAS I WITH SEAMUS FINNIGAN?"

Ron's patience was obviously short. "What are you going on about *now*?!"

"The night of the accident, I was with Seamus Finnigan. Why?" asked Harry.

"Oh, so I see you're now acknowledging something that happened in the past. Well, good for you, Harry."

Harry was desperate. "I don't want to argue with you! I'm sorry for earlier but I honestly think I'm going mad, and I'm very, very sorry, and I'm very, very confused, and very, very upset. Draco and I broke up and I need to know why I was with Seamus Finnigan the night Cedric died!"

There was a quiet sigh on the other end of the line. "I've never figured that out! Why don't you tell me? And you and Draco broke up?? God, why? You fight like three times a day, but you're like a married couple! What on earth could you have said to make him so mad?"

"Hey, how do you know I didn't dump him?" Harry asked, purposefully avoiding Ron's question.

"Like you could ever do that. You're a man obsessed, my friend. Just another reason I don't understand why you agreed to go out with Seamus on that date."

"Did Draco *let* me, or did I do it behind his back?" questioned Harry.

"I was of the understanding that Draco let you! Didn't Seamus' date cancel last-minute or something? It wasn't a wise move of you, Harry... you know Seamus is my friend, but..."

"But?"

"I never figured Draco would be all right with letting you do that. He's not Seamus' biggest fan or anything, jeez!"

"He isn't?"

"You know he isn't. What, are you confused again?"

"Quite," said Harry, miserably. In effort to try and make Ron understand, he added, "Ron... it's like... there's a fog in my head... and I can't remember anything. I'm telling you this honestly! I can't remember very important things all of a sudden, and I feel as if I'm going out of my head trying to remember them, and I need your help."

There was silence besides the buzzing of the phone. Then, Ron said slowly, "You've... lost your memory?"

"It feels like it." Harry took a deep breath. "When I woke up this morning, I woke up thinking my parents were dead, in all sincerity, I thought they were gone. Then Mum came in, and... and... I was shocked. I honestly thought she was dead!"

Ron seemed boggled. "Maybe Hermione was right about that PTSD thing she was going on about earlier at your house."

"If I was in a car accident and witnessed a death, then probably." Harry was close to tears. "But now I've gone and messed things up with Draco because I couldn't remember this ski trip, and I can't remember the night Cedric died even though I found my articles about what happened. I woke up this morning and something wasn't right. I can't believe Cedric is dead and my parents are alive and that Malfoy's my *boyfriend.*"

"Well, you're really confusing me, I'll tell you that much. And I don't know why you were with Seamus Finnigan, because yes, Draco does dislike him, quite a bit. He has since you two met."

"Since Draco and I met?" asked Harry in such a small voice that Ron was surprised.

"Of course... before you were Draco's friend, you were dating with Seamus Finnigan... do... you don't remember, do you?"

"No. But I'm trying Ron, please keep talking." Harry felt like he was taking notes in a class about somebody else's life.

"Well... all right, but I feel like a stupid git, Harry. You'd better be telling me the truth, because this is really odd and I don't like remembering about this stuff."

"I promise, Ron, I'm telling the truth. Please believe me. We're best friends, we have been ever since we met when we were just kids. I know that much. Right?"

"Yes," Ron sighed. "All right, all right. This is so odd, Harry... anyway, towards the end of eighth grade, you had pretty much decided you liked... guys... and Seamus had always been out... so you and him were sort of dating-together-whatever, whatever it is thirteen-year-olds do, acting all strung-up about each other, you know. It was rather awkward, but I know you guys had fun together, and we were all on the hockey team together, and then Draco moved to town, and..."

//I remember my first encounter with Draco Malfoy... in Madam Malkin's... he was drawling about Quidditch and brooms and his father and smuggling a broom into Hogwarts when first years weren't allowed to have them. What a git. He reminded me of Dudley.//

"...We met him one day at the sports supplies store when we were all ogling gear... he came up to us and started talking about hockey and he looks like *such* a figure skater, all dressed in black like he's at an art show or something, and we were cracking up about him to his face, which was mean, of course, but you know how kids are... The guy actually starts in on how he's going to be the captain of Hogwarts' hockey team when freshman year started, and we all knew that you were the star of the team, you always were... so we defended you, of course. Draco gets all red-faced about it, shoots this incredibly lethal look at you and Seamus, and leaves... and naturally, he was in every single one of our classes with us, shooting death looks every day at us. Such a lonely, sour person, he used to be.

"Tried out for the hockey team and didn't make the first cut until Oliver Wood kicked off Terrence Higgs for skipping out too many practices. That was when we got to know him a little better, and, I think, when you started taking more interest in him than you were taking with Seamus, especially since Seamus wasn't on the team at the time and you were around Draco all afternoon every day." Ron seemed to be done with his explanation, waiting for another question.

"I dated Seamus Finnigan," Harry finally said, dazed.

"Yeah, for about five months."

"Did I make out with him?"

"Er, not ever in front of me," Ron answered, which made Harry's heart a little happier, even if they had actually saved any making out for private places. "You were still too shy with that."

"Did I dump Seamus for Draco?" Harry wanted to know.

Ron laughed. "Well, actually, Seamus dumped *you*... I believe it was a immature ploy fashioned to get your attention; he didn't think you'd go so completely crazy over Draco in the time that followed. Now you see why I had trouble thinking you dumped Draco? You're a pansy."

"But I thought Draco hated us. I guess he started being friends with me?"

"Well, it's my personal opinion that he liked you from the very start. I've never told you that, though. This actually feels a bit like a confessional. Didn't your mum always tell you that you're mean to the people you really like? Okay, maybe that's just my mum's reasoning. But, yes, once you broke up with Seamus, you and Draco started spending all day, every day together, even though it took you bleeding ages to declare it an official thing, or what have you. Last summer, actually. That's actually when I started spending loads of time with 'Mione... we met her freshman year, too."

Harry wanted to giggle childishly. In his world, Ron and Hermione were still running in circles about liking each other. He supposed if he went off with Malfoy and left them to their own devices, they'd snap to attention a little quicker.

"How'd we meet her?" he asked, interested to compare it to what he knew.

"Well, at first we didn't know her very well, she being the model student type. She didn't have any friends, and always looked at us disapprovingly for disrupting class, and all that."

"Sounds familiar..."

"Good, I'm glad, I feel like an ass reciting all this to you."

"Keep going."

"Well, there was this one day we had a big test in history, and everyone flunked except her, she got full marks, as she always does, and this girl named Millicent Bulstrode. We'd both noticed during the test that it was Millicent who was doing all the cheating, looking at 'Mione's paper with that lazy eye of hers. The teacher accused them both of cheating, and Hermione was going to get suspended until we vouched for her that Millicent was the one cheating."

"Oh, so, we were friends after that? Oh, and why is 'Mione a cheerleader? She just hardly seems the type."

"Hahaha. Oh, definitely. Our lunch table was the best, always loud. Draco started sitting with us, and we all teased Hermione nearly every day about being so bookish, and how she hated that we all ogled the cheerleaders. So when tryouts were held, she tried out, and made the varsity squad just to prove us wrong. Turns out she'd been a cheerleader in her junior high."

"I can see her doing that."

"We were all pretty surprised. And God, she looks so cute in her skirt..."

Harry laughed, then confided something. "Draco was so mad earlier... I didn't want to tell him... I can't even remember our first kiss."

"Well, I wasn't present for that, I don't think..." Ron said in a teasing voice. "But you sure as hell were always all over each other by October... every football game, between every class, going off to the boys' bathroom during lunch... it was bad. And you're *still* like that!"

"I suppose I should call Seamus and ask him about that night."

"I... I'd call Draco first."

"He's so upset... threw this ring at me..."

"You gave him that ring on Valentine's Day."

"Wow, apparently I'm quite the sap."

"When it comes to him, you are. That's why you have to call him... you have to set things right again. I can see why Draco was so upset, because honestly, I was too. We were all very shaken by what happened to Cedric, Harry, and even more so because you were in the car with him. You had such a hard time dealing with it at first, you kept saying it was all your fault, and that it should have been you, and it took you weeks to start to put your life back together, and obviously, you're still not all quite together. Draco hates that it was Seamus with you when it happened and not him... he's upset that he let you go. I'm sure he's even more upset now that he's actually 'let you go,' so to speak."

"You're a wise person, Ron," said Harry quietly.

"I'm actually just reading cue cards that Ginny's holding up," Ron said, with a smile to his voice.

"One more question, Ron?"

"Sure, might as well."

"Does Ginny... have... a thing for me, by any chance?" Harry ran his finger down the spine of his yearbook curiously.

Ron burst out into laughter. "Harry, Ginny will always be your number one fan, forever and always!"

"Ron!" he heard Ginny squeak indignantly.

"That comforts me to the utmost," sighed Harry happily.

"Harry says that you really comfort him, Gin."

There was more squeaking. "Stop it, Ron! You're the worst!!"

"RONALD WEASLEY, GET OFF THE PHONE. IT IS PAST MIDNIGHT AND WE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!"

"Howler?!" asked Harry.

"You bet," said Ron. "Listen, want to meet up tomorrow again?"

"Sure, but I'll have to talk to Draco and Seamus, all right?"

"Right then. See you, Harry."

"Thanks, Ron. For everything."

"Sure, sure, mate, don't get mushy on me, now."

"No... not me. I save that sort of thing for Valentine's Day."

"Hah. Night, Harry."

"Night."

Harry clicked the button to hang up and laid the phone back on its dirty underwear pile, then took the yearbook with him and laid on his bed.

He read through all the signatures - Katie Bell, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Dennis Creevey, Lavender Brown, Hannah Abbot - he knew them, and they were all there. He flipped through pages until he found the sophomore photos and found himself smiling at how silly he and Draco looked in their pictures. Actually, Draco looked like a model in his, while Harry was all grins and tilted glasses. Hermione's hair escaped from the confines of her photo, while Ron was squinting with a sheepish smile.

Curiously, he looked up Draco in the index and discovered that Draco was actually involved in all the more artsy things, hockey being an anomaly among them; Thespians, Art Club, Debate -- even Choir. That rather proved Ron's theory of how Draco had liked him from the very start. And Draco hadn't made the cut at first... that proved that he probably actually didn't play hockey before, and didn't have the raw talent Harry had, even if he looked really nice on skates. Just like Quidditch.

It made Harry glow somewhere inside. //Honestly, what a nerd... it's so... I don't know. Cute, maybe.//

Finally, in the back, on a page Harry's handwriting had labeled "RESERVED," he found the signatures of Hermione, Ron, and Draco. Hermione and Ron's were both short and blindingly supportive and loyal to him, while Draco's took up the entire rest of the page, in jaunty, jagged letters that were as aesthetically pleasing to look at as he was.

//God, I'm... really losing it if I just thought Draco was aesthetically pleasing. Oh, what's the point. I've already made out with him. Twice.//

As Harry read Draco's long signature, he found himself mouthing the words, only not whispering for his lack of breath. He suddenly felt as unsteady as if he were laying on the back of a flying Hippogriff.

"'Harry. You've come to mean more to me than anyone else ever has before in my life, and I thank you for every moment, and wish to be with you for so many more. You have been the light at the end of my tunnel, opened me where I was closed, healed me where I was torn. Oh, shut up, you should have known I'd write you a love poem in here. Ah, well - I know this yearbook is probably a pretty painful thing to read in light of what's happened in the last month, but I know that you will overcome. We will overcome, together, always. I love you. Yours, Draco.' Hell."

Harry laid the book down on his chest again, feeling flushed. It all felt so much more real now. Instead of being told he had a past with Draco, now it actually felt like he had one, and was starting to see how the whole thing came about instead of being hit in the face with it.

//So real. So real. Too real to be a dream.//

Harry closed the book and placed it gently on the floor beside his bed, then twisted and stared at his bedroom door. His parents hadn't disturbed him all evening. They probably figured he was asleep since he hadn't seen his friends to the door.

//Maybe it isn't a dream at all. Maybe everything at the Dursleys' and Hogwarts was a wild dream... now, that all seems so much more tangible from a Muggle point of view.//

He shook his head fervently, suddenly reaching down onto the floor by his yearbook and picking up the ragged Mister Bear, then tucking it in against his chest, where the curve of the bear said it had been pressed a thousand times.

//No, that can't be it. I have memories of an entire lifetime from that life, and next to none from this life. Even if this feels real, it's somehow not. I have to...// Harry's eyes drifted closed. //... go to Draco... I have to... find out the truth... somehow. If there is some reason I am here, if I'm meant to do something here... I must find out what it is, so I can get home to my real life.//

And again, Harry slept.

* * * * *

It seemed he'd barely closed his eyes when they opened again, to a loud clatter noise coming from the kitchen. His body wouldn't move for a second, it was so achingly tired. He could feel Draco's ring, still on his thumb, pressing into his cheek.

//Did I dream at all, or is this still a dream... I just don't know.//

Finally, his body sat up, and his mind shortly followed. He'd slept in his jeans and tee shirt, and went to his closet to see what kind of clothes he owned to change into now that he didn't have to wear clothes that were five sizes too large and worn down threadbare from washing.

There were so many hockey jerseys it made him sick, plus many tee shirts and, there in the back, his suit he was wearing in the formal picture taped to his ceiling. He reached out to touch it curiously. Soft. The dried rose was still pinned to it. With gentle fingers, he caressed a brittle petal.

He picked out a plain white tee shirt and, feeling the chill of the early morning, pulled out a green sweater to go with it. Then, he quickly changed, wondering where the bathroom was in his house, because he hadn't gone at all yesterday and he was regretting it now.

The bathroom proved to be right outside his room, and even though he'd just gotten dressed, he immediately whipped all his clothes off again, started the shower, took a pee, and climbed under the spray of hot water. He didn't even take off his glasses in his urgency, figuring they could use cleaning, too, what with all the crying he'd done the previous day.

He felt like he was washing years worth of dried skin away, and the dull ache of his tired muscles gradually melted away beneath the pounding wet heat. Harry quickly decided it was the best shower he'd ever had in his life. Even the soap smelled great... it smelled like his mum. He washed himself over at least three or four times before finally turning the water off and panting in relief.

Harry had adventures figuring out with toothbrush was his and what was in all the bathroom drawers, but he couldn't find a towel, so he stood naked and drip-dried while brushing his teeth and memorizing the bathroom that had cream-coloured wallpaper with tiny yellow tulips printed on it, white curtains, and a freestanding porcelain sink. Harry made another decision: he liked his house. A lot. It was *home* - so much more than the Dursleys' was, and he'd spent his entire life there.

But this felt right, instead of confusing, and ultimately frightening.

He wiggled into his underwear, jeans, tee, and sweater again, slipped Draco's ring into his pocket, then went out barefoot to the kitchen.

"Harry, you're up early! Get lots of sleep?" asked his mum, who was standing at the stove flipping pancakes. "Want some?" she asked, gesturing at them with the spatula.

"Yes, lots," replied Harry, to both questions, grinning and taking a seat next to his dad at their tiny kitchen table. James peered out from above his newspaper with a silly expression.

"It's summer and it's seven-thirty in the morning. You sure you're not ill?"

"I feel better," Harry assured his dad. Lily set a rather tall glass of orange juice in front of Harry, then returned to her pancakes, which she was flipping like a pro. She was still in a robe and nightgown, wearing his dad's slippers, long auburn hair curling down her back from her ponytail. Even in the morning, his mum was simply striking.

"What's the occasion, then?" his dad asked, folding the paper and attacking his own glass of orange juice.

"I was wondering... could you take me to Draco's on your way to work?" asked Harry brightly. James made a face. Harry wasn't sure if it was the orange juice or his request that had conjured up that face.

"This early? Will he be awake?"

//Does Dad not like Draco?//

"If he's not, I'll just wait," said Harry. "I really need to see him."

"So all day yesterday wasn't enough?"

"Ja-ames," Lily said sing-songedly. James sighed.

"All right, all right, it's not like it's out of my way. But couldn't Draco just come over here?"

"Er... I don't think he would..." said Harry slowly. "We had a bit of a row last night."

"Ah," said his dad, as if he'd known it all along.

Lily suddenly placed a platter full of hot pancakes in front of Harry and James, then slid into the seat across from her husband and began to serve them out.

"What did you two fight about, darling?" she asked.

"Er... Mummm," protested Harry.

"Oh, private things, I see," she nodded. Harry shot an apprehensive glance at his dad, who didn't look very amused. Harry fought the urge to ask his father just what it was about Draco he didn't like, except for he knew it was probably the fact that Draco would close doors when James asked for him to leave them open.

And despite how wonderful the pancakes smelled and tasted, Harry could hardly eat, paying attention as James started talking about the office, and he struggled to pinpoint what it was his dad did all day. It wasn't as if he could come out and ask - that would be entirely too odd, and he might land himself back in bed with a cold compress on his head or something like that. He stuffed in what he could, but he felt jittery about seeing Draco again. The ring was heavy in his pocket, and he hoped to return it to its rightful owner soon.

* * * * *

The Potters' car was a 1979 Fawkes, phoenix red with white detailing and tan leather interior. Wide-eyed, Harry sat in the passenger seat, thinking how much more arse this kicked than Uncle Vernon's stuffy, smelly, ugly company car.

"So, son, have you come up with anything yet?" James asked him as they pulled out of the driveway. Harry was waving goodbye to his mum, who was waving out the kitchen window.

"Er... sorry, what?" he asked.

"I asked if you'd come up with anything yet."

"For what?" asked Harry blankly.

"Your birthday. Remember? It *is* only a fortnight away... the big one-six, Harry, you said you wanted to do something? Any ideas yet?"

"Oh." Harry felt as if he should have realized. "No, I... didn't give it too much thought yesterday, I'll try and think a little more on it today. Maybe Draco will have some ideas."

"Harry..." began his father deliberately. "You know I like Draco..."

Harry couldn't help looking at his dad with an expression that blatantly said, *Do you?*

"Well, don't you think it's a little silly that you two spend so much time together? Well... I mean to say... I do like Draco, and I'm happy if you're happy with him. But you're young yet, Harry."

//Oh, God, I'm not prepared to defend my relationship with Malfoy!!// Harry wished he could find something to say to that. Finally, he said,

"You married Mum and you were high school sweethearts."

"Well --" James looked distracted. "That's different..."

"No, it's not," Harry said bluntly. "Are you trying to say that because we're both boys?"

"Of course not," he replied firmly, and Harry believed him. "I'm trying to say that because... well, you've been through a lot, Harry. I understand that you needed time to be by yourself and work out why -- why it happened, and to understand that it was no fault of yours, not by any account, that Bagman hit the car. And I know that Draco has earned more respect from me by merely being there for you to talk to whenever you need to, and genuinely trying to help you through it all. But don't you think that perhaps... the whole ordeal is making you cling to each other a little more than necessary?"

"Are you saying this because I was on his lap yesterday?"

James gave a feeble cough. "No!"

"Dad... I was seriously clinging to Draco before the accident, wasn't I? Well, nothing's changed. I can sit on his lap because I'm comfortable with him and I know he's not going to abuse that fact. I know I'm young, but I also know what I want. And what I want is to be able to be with Draco."

He stopped. He couldn't explain why. And he didn't know where that came from, but it was true. He felt the need to save this relationship that he hadn't willingly gotten into, but it existed, and it needed to exist for him in this place, and he was not going to let it go.

"Of course. I respect that. Still..." James turned into an elegant, neat neighborhood full of houses that were at least four times the size of Harry's. "Could you ask Draco to just leave the door open when I tell him to?"

Harry smiled, embarrassed to the core. "Of course. I respect that."

James nodded. Harry looked out the window, still smiling in spite of himself, wondering when he'd outed himself to his parents and feeling rather glad he didn't have the memory of whatever time had made James not trust Draco with him - it was probably even more embarrassing than his dad asking them to leave doors open like they were going to have mad sex every time he wasn't looking.

//Er... God knows, maybe we do.//

The thought made him shift a little in discomfort, and a minute or two later, he snapped back into reality from thoughts of making out with Draco on his bed, complete with the last disconcerting moment when Draco had put his hands under Harry's shirt.

//I'm sitting here next to my dad thinking about sex with Malfoy!// he realized, flushing and looking at his dad, who looked considerably more relaxed and pleasant than he had looked before. //Ugh, this is all just... TOO WEIRD! Now to go ask Malfoy to be my boyfriend again.//

He let his head drop back on the seat. The words "ski lodge" were forever going to suggest mad sex with Malfoy to him now.

"Buck up, we're here," said his dad, pulling to the curb of a sprawling mansion, white with box hedges and columns on the wide front porch and a black wrought iron fence surrounding the entire thing. Harry jumped in fear. *This* was Draco's house?!

"Thanks, Dad," he said, gulping silently and grabbing the door handle.

"Good luck," his dad managed, smiling. Harry also managed a smile in return, then got out of the car with a wave to his dad. James waved goodbye and pulled away, driving off down the street that was clean as a pin and nearly unrealistically rich-looking.

"I really hope Lucius Malfoy isn't home," sighed Harry, spotting an intercom near the box hedges. Pressing the biggest button, he waited for almost sixty seconds, heart beating fast, until a drawl asked,

"Yes? Malfoy residence."

"I-Is Draco in? It's Harry... Potter," he added as an afterthought.

There was a short pause and then, the same voice came crisply, "Yes, of course. One moment please, Master Harry."

And, true to the man's word, a moment later, the huge gates began to swing open. Harry walked through them dazedly, and up the massively long driveway of the Malfoy residence. This was it; time to sink or swim, time to place aside his pride for a greater good. Time to try and woo Draco Malfoy.

* * * * *

End Chapter Two