Dreams Of Enchantment

Note For This Chapter: Hello! ^_^ Thanks a *lotlotlot* for the overwhelmingly positive response to this fic. We'd like you to know how appreciative we are of the feedback. Due to some cursing and the sorta-leaning-into-sexual content, we've decided to bump the rating up to R. That means absolutely nothing, really, but we thought we'd better do it, just to be on the safe side. *cackles*

Even Further Other Extra Note: We now have a mailing list for our joint fics (Dreams, Hallie, and any other ventures split between us). Discussion, cookies, and updates run rampant. Do please join! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/misterbear

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





Harry reached up to lift the knocker on the Malfoys' massive, pristine white front door, but before his fingers could touch the brass, the door made a groaning noise, and squeaked open slowly. A hook-nosed butler's eyes dropped down to look at him, stiff body unmoving.

"Ah, yes, Master Harry, we weren't expecting you..."

"I'm sorry, I *am* unexpected," faltered Harry, now feeling quite rude and rather tiny. "If Draco is still in bed, do you think I could wait--"

"Oh, young Master Malfoy is awake, of course. He's in the drawing room, if I'm not mistaken... here, do come in and wait here, please. I'll alert him of your arrival immediately."

The butler moved aside, and Harry stepped up into surely what Buckingham Palace looked like in monotones. The shining floor, stretching as far as his eyes could see through the massive foyer and on through tall open door into a grand hall, was black marble with streaks of pearl and gold swirling through it. Harry felt incredibly scrubby in his usual sneakers, dirtying up the snow-white strip of carpet that shot up the middle of the room. The butler strode off down the right hall, and Harry could hear his shoes clicking against the marble all the way down it.

If Harry's eyes were open a little wider, they would have rolled out onto the floor.

//He's bloody *rich!* What does he go to a public high school for?//

The walls were tall and white, with gilded gold lamps with cream-coloured, tiny lampshades on them, every fifteen feet or so near the ceiling, to light the way on a party evening. Next to Harry was a tall mirror with a gold frame, reflecting his anxious, awed face. He glanced up - the ceilings, he would guess, were around twenty feet high.

It was sterile and dramatic, and rather cool. It was quite striking, of course, but Harry found himself wishing he was back in the cheerful bustle and mess of his own house.

//No wonder Dad seemed so surprised I wanted to come here instead of having Draco over to our house. I'd be afraid to live here, it's almost like a funeral parlour.//

Harry turned his attentions towards the open door of the main hall as a regal female voice wafted through the foyer.

"... and I want all new velvet draperies in here, black, of course, and I'd like them to be held back with gold tassels adorned with holly berries and leaves... and, over each doorway on each side of the room, a garland full of mistletoe..."

A woman with long, slickly straight gold-white hair that fell down her back in one long fall walked by, gesturing with an elegant hand to the top of the incredibly tall set of doors. She didn't see Harry, but the person who was following her, a harried-looking man in a suit who was scribbling furiously on a notepad cast him a furtive glance, then disappeared again.

"And, I think, a fourteen-foot wide wreath on each wall, with red silk bows..."

"Master Harry, young Malfoy will see you in the gardens."

The butler's stuffy voice made Harry jump, nodding and stepping forward in the hall a little. The butler strode forward quickly and shut the doors of the main hall quickly.

"You weren't seen, were you?" he inquired softly, turning halfway around with his white-gloved hand nervously on the handle.

Though it was a lie, Harry immediately assured the man, "No... no, I wasn't."

Impeccable posture still in tact, the hook-nosed butler relaxed visibly. "Very good. The Mistress hates to be... disturbed from her daily duties." He gestured down the hall he'd just turned down. "Now, Master Draco is waiting."

Harry paled, swallowing. "Which way are the gardens again?"

The servant dusted his hands, then snapped his fingers. "Ah... yes, the manor is rather confusing. Follow me, please."

Relieved, Harry scurried after the tall man as he headed purposefully down the left hall. How could Draco live in such a cold, empty place? It was spotless and well-cared-for, just like him, but... it lacked the happy warmth that the Draco Malfoy of this time and place had shown him. Lifeless paintings lined the dark wood walls of the hallway, and they passed so many doors that Harry wondered if the hallway did actually have an end to it somewhere. He felt as if he were an eleven-year-old following Hagrid around in Gringotts, the way this butler was so tall and the scenery so startlingly different.

"Yes... the Mistress is preparing for her annual Yuletide celebrations," said the butler conversationally, his pace never slowing. Harry's thighs ached from trying to keep up with him.

"But... it's only just July," he protested.

"Yes... but it *is* twelve days long, so there's plenty to plan for. She likes to start extra-early."

"Twelve *days*!" Harry nearly tripped.

Abruptly, the man stopped and turned to a door on Harry's left. He said calmly, "It's simply through this door up a brief flight of stairs that lead to two doors. You take the right, then go down the stairs. Then take the first right again and continue down the hallway till you get to the kitchens. You may cut through there and reach the side-door to the back deck. From the deck are the gardens. It's quite simple, but if you get lost, you'll run into a maid sooner than later. And it's unlikely at this time of morning, but, if you... see Master Malfoy or the Mistress or someone who is not wearing a servants' uniform, try to duck into a room. Most of the doors are unlocked, and... you'd do best not to get in their way."

When he stopped speaking, Harry's mind was whirling with the instructions and the sudden fear that Lucius Malfoy would pop up and bite him on the neck if he took a wrong turn.

"Sure. Er. Thank you," he said blankly.

"Right, stairs, right, straight, kitchen, deck, gardens," ticked the butler, opening the door for Harry to reveal a dark hallway to him.

Harry nodded and repeated his thanks, then walked through the door mumbling, "Right, stairs, right, straight, kitchen, deck, gardens..."

Bewildered and slow, Harry walked down the dim hallway, only finding the first flight of stairs by walking straight into it and falling face-first into it.

"What is this place, a labyrinth?" he muttered, wincing and shoving himself back up. Up the flight of stairs was the next door, and a tiny, cramped hallway that was nearly pitch-black and lead to an identical flight of stairs, only heading downwards. "First right again," he reminded himself, turning and finding that it was a wider, more used hallway that had natural light streaming in from a doorway down the corridor. Something suddenly occurred to him: he was obviously using the servants' halls, due to how tiny, musty, and darkened they were.

//Draco's dad mustn't like me any more than mine likes him,// mused Harry, finding himself in a much more brightly-lit kitchen all of a sudden. The cooks within were bustling about doing morning dishes and preparing already for lunch. The smell of bread baking whispered against Harry's nose.

"Hullo, Harry!" greeted one of the chefs. "You hungry?"

"Oh-- n-no, thank you," stuttered Harry, caught by surprise. The kitchen staff knew him too, so he had to have been here at least a few times. "I'm just on my way out to the gardens."

"Sure you don't want even a biscuit? Draco didn't touch his this morning," said the cheerful, ruddy man, "so we've got plenty."

"I've just ate, but thank you," he declined.

"You see if you can haul Draco in here so he won't go starvin' till lunch time. Oh! Havin' roast for lunch, I wouldn't miss it!" he winked, then attended his business peeling potatoes.

"Right," said Harry, wandering through the busy kitchen until he found a door in the corner. When he reached it, he saw a massive deck littered with black wrought-iron furniture and several lanterns suspended from tall posts that were part of the iron fence structure around it. It was spindly and sharp-looking, but the sunlight was gleaming on the furniture since it was early yet and dew was gathered on everything.

//I hope I find him. I just don't even want to think about what a massive backyard they must have.//

He pushed the door open and headed out into the white sunlight. Down the steps of the deck he went, where he was relieved to see sprawling greenery and a massive garden that rivaled pictures he'd seen on the Dursleys' telly of royal gardens in Japan. There was even a man-made waterfall in the center of it. It was breathtakingly gorgeous, smelling of flowers and fresh water and clean air.

And there, amongst the beauty, sitting in a hammock suspended from a thick branch of a wild-looking tree, was a sullen figure in a black turtleneck, slim back to Harry, swinging slowly and silently.

//Does he know I'm here?//

Harry's steps made next to no noise on the neatly-cut grass, and he approached Draco without disturbing the peaceful atmosphere and calling to him. Finally, something must have prickled Draco's attentions, for he straightened and looked to his side like he knew someone was watching him.

"Draco," Harry finally attempted, and Draco half-turned in his hammock. His face was a curious mix of surprise and fear, but it iced over quickly.

"Harry, you shouldn't be here."

He turned around, trying to appear unaffected. Harry circled the hammock.

"I got that impression... er... ahaha!"

"What on earth are you laughing at?" glared Draco. "You should have called first, or--"

"You have a kitten," laughed Harry helplessly. The blond boy glanced down at the gray furball curled up in the dip between his thighs.

"Yes, so?" Draco sounded thoroughly annoyed. His eyes flashed up at Harry. "Oh, that's right, you probably don't *remember* that Ursula had kittens before we left for the ski trip that you also don't remember, because you probably don't remember that I even have a cat named Ursula, seeing as you 'don't remember' much of *anything,* do you?"

"Ursula...?" Harry was chuckling, but the laugher died a gruesome death on his lips as a frown killed his smile. Draco's mouth tightened as his pale hand curled around the kitten's body and scooped it up against his chest, like it needed protection from Harry. The dark-haired boy stood, his brain completely devoid of what to say, watching as Draco tucked the tiny thing up right against his heart and affixed him with a death glare that he'd probably had lots of practice fashioning, but not quite as superior and cool as the Malfoy of the wizarding world. His storm cloud eyes practically had lightning bolts shooting out of them.

"I..."

Harry grasped for words that just weren't there. Draco didn't offer a word, either, staring up at him in that defensive position. Harry simply dumbly stood rooted to the spot, the serious eye contact making his mind feel like a slate wiped clean.

//You came to apologize,// something deep inside reminded him. It must have been his heart, beating true and instinctual, in true Gryffindor fashion.

"I'm sorry, honestly," he began nervously. "I'd like... I'd like the chance to try and explain to you... I'm not lying, and I'm also not trying to hurt you, but... there's something wrong with the way I woke up yesterday... I woke up and I can't remember hardly anything that's happened, and I need your help to understand, and to try to remember..."

Now, Draco's expression was melting into confusion.

"You weren't just being an arse?"

"No!" Harry said earnestly. "I promise. I *promise* that there's actually something really weird going on here."

"Well, of course there is," murmured Draco. "Your brain, for instance."

"I'm guessing I deserved that," Harry said softly. "For hurting you...? Even though I didn't mean to."

"Telling me I'm not worth the air I breathe hardly constitutes as not meaning to hurt me." Curling the kitten into one hand, Draco gestured with the other with a grandeur sigh. "Sit, explain. And believe me, you have a *lot* of explaining to do."

Harry sat on the tricky rope contraption, and the power of gravity sent him sliding right into Draco. He blushed a little at their legs lining up; was Malfoy thinking the same thing he was thinking?

//I highly doubt I'll ever be able to separate the thoughts of sex and Malfoy again!//

Draco didn't appear as unnerved at their contact, looking at him expectantly. Harry took a deep breath.

"I don't know where to start, exactly--"

"The very beginning, most obviously."

He sighed and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "For a moment, you sounded just like the Draco Malfoy that I always knew. The one who made fun of my dead parents, harassed me and my friends every day, tried everything he could to get me to regret leaving the Muggles to go to Hogwarts, who... made me absolutely ill sometimes."

Draco's eyes were a bit wide, and there was a small mewling sound from the kitten as he tucked it into the generous hem of his turtleneck. "Right, you've lost me already. I hope you know that you're talking pure nonsense and I'm really going to get after you if this is an elaborate joke you and Ron set up or something..."

"I know you think I'm mad, and I know it *sounds* insane, but... I'll try to explain it all to you... if I can... if you'll let me."

And slowly, but surely, with Draco's eyes getting a little wider every few seconds, Harry started to babble about growing up at the Dursleys', the strange things that had happened to him as a child, how his horrid Aunt and Uncle had told him that his parents had died in a car accident, his home beneath the stairs, and how he'd found out that he was really a wizard, how he'd met Draco, how he'd met the wizard really responsible for his parents' deaths. Slowly, the sun rising ever-higher above them, Harry related the most important details to Draco, and the whole story came out.

* * * * *

Finally, Harry had nothing left to say, and sat back, feeling like he'd exorcised of a lot of inner demons. Draco pondered for a moment, then bluntly spoke for the first time since Harry'd opened his mouth.

"I think you're flipping insane."

Harry managed a pained grin. "I knew you would."

"Do you honestly expect me to *believe* such rubbish? What do you take me for, an absolute idiot? Honestly... witchcraft and wizardry? Muggles? Where did you *get* this stuff, and why are you... I don't even know anymore."

Draco looked more than fairly annoyed with Harry at the moment, and Harry was quickly seeing that this was a losing battle. His heart started sinking from his throat to the pit of his chest. Had he really expected Draco to believe him? Living a full day in this world had made him realize how crazy his real life sounded, especially stating all of out it loud to Draco.

//If I hadn't lived it, I wouldn't believe it either...//

Draco was now sitting there with a blank look on his face, staring forward into nothingness quietly. The kitten in his lap was only moving to take deep breaths of sleep.

"I told you you hadn't a clue," babbled Harry, kicking some of the perfect green grass beneath the toe of his sneaker. "Don't believe me if you like, fine. Then you'd really be acting like the other Malfoy."

Detachedly, Draco commented, "Half of me wants to believe you, because that would explain a lot. The other half of me is actually rather frightened of you right now."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. It's true."

Sad eyes turned upon Harry. "Assuming everything you're telling me is the truth, and of course it isn't because it's far too bizarre and impossible, just to let you know... I honestly hate you in your dream?"

"It wasn't a dream," Harry repeated for the billionth time, frustrated. "*This* is the dream."

"Really, stop. You're being strange," whispered Draco. "You know it can't possibly... this is what's real. We've... loved each other for so long now... you're saying that it isn't true...!"

Harry clenched his fingers, deciding he'd better just indulge Malfoy. He should have known Draco would react like this... and this is why he probably oughtn't to tell anybody else.

"I don't care what's real and what's not anymore. Draco." Harry suddenly reached out and took Draco's hand, which was cool, even in the morning sun. "Please believe me in just this: I can't remember anything. I remember who people are, what their names are, but I don't remember anything else... I don't remember our first words, I don't remember the time we've spent together, I don't remember our first kiss or our anniversary or... anything! It feels like waking up in the middle of a life that isn't mine. As far as my experience in my -- other life goes, I haven't gotten my first kiss yet. That... that kiss you gave me yesterday morning." Harry was now colouring warmly. "That was my first kiss, as far as I know."

Draco's lips were almost trembling with hurt. "Our first kiss... you don't remember it...?"

Harry felt like his heart was a ten-pound sandbag crashing through a wooden stage. "No. I-I'm sorry."

"Do you remember the day I asked you out?"

"No. I remember nothing about us, about anything. Ron told me I dated Seamus Finnigan, which... is rather... odd for me to hear." Harry swallowed.

"Finnigan." Draco's eyes had darkened.

"I've never held an interest in boys before," Harry admitted tightly. "I always hoped my first kiss would be Cho Chang. Well, Hermione kissed me on the cheek once, but it was rather like getting a kiss from a sister or something."

"Cho Chang?" Draco gave a half-hearted, half-finished smile.

"Yeah. I really liked her... she played Quidditch... she was a Seeker, like me."

Draco chuckled a sad chuckle. "Sorry I couldn't be your dream girl, then." His eyelids dropped closed, and a thin tear rolled quickly down his cheek and melted into his turtleneck.

"Oh -- no -- don't..."

Harry didn't know what to do. Now Draco was crying. Maybe starting to accept Harry's wild-sounding, but honest claims, but very upset nonetheless. Was he supposed to hold Draco? They weren't together anymore; the ring in Harry's pocket instead of on Draco's finger attested to that much. Harry nervously went with his instinct and edged an arm around Draco, who leaned into him, tears flowing freely and silently.

"I don't know what to do," Harry whispered. "I'm sorry. I don't know... h-how to do this."

"Have I lost you forever?" Draco's voice near his chest asked softly. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing!"

//Way to woo, Potter,// he told himself glumly. //Shouldn't have told him... now how will I get him back? He thinks I'm crazy and making up a bunch of stuff... and I'm not... even though I feel as if I must be. Is there something wrong with me?//

"I feel as if I hardly know you," Draco whispered, one cold hand still tightly holding his, the other cupped protectively around his kitten.

Guilt grasped at Harry's heart. Sure, he'd woken up in a life that wasn't his... and completely screwed it up. His friends were mad, his boyfriend had broken up with him, and he was making their Harry look like a mental case.

"I regret telling you now. You think I'm crazy... but I... I just wanted to be honest with you."

"How can you be being honest? If it's all a lie, Harry, tell me now. Please tell me it's a lie."

Now Draco was begging. Harry felt like a horrible person. "It's not. But I don't see how I can tell anybody else now. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you even more."

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed painfully, rocking the two gently with one foot and listening to the sounds of the waterfall distant in the background.

"I love you. More than anything. I'd die if I thought it'd help you out." Draco's voice was dull. "But if you came here to try and get us back together, I just don't know, Harry. We've been through so much pain in the last couple of months. If all it's going to be is pain and you're going to go through the rest of your life saying things like you are, how can either of us live through it?"

"If you don't want to, that's..." Suddenly, painful tears were pricking at Harry's eyes too, spilling over quickly without chance of willing them away. "I've ruined everything. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't know... what to do!"

"No. It's all right. Maybe you can't help it." There was a pause, and Draco's voice seemed to change suddenly. "Harry... maybe... maybe you really can't help it. I think you've proven within the last couple of days that you're *not* over Cedric yet, and I think maybe it was a mistake to try and put it all behind us when you haven't... I don't know, fully accepted it yet? Maybe you're having these dreams because... you can't deal with it. And it's your mind's way of not going crazy. Yes." He sat up and looked at Harry with a fiery expression not unlike one Hermione would have upon having an epiphany. "And you've blocked out the past because it's so painful. Harry..." He bit his lip. "I want to help. I don't know how. But I know that you're too important to just let go, especially when we've worked through all that crap with Finnigan and coming out to your parents, and... we'll... we'll work through it together. If you want to. If you want me to help."

Harry was dazed by Draco's words, the heavy, sharp gray stare making him fumble with his words. "Are you saying... we're together again...?"

"If you'll have me. You do know I love you." Draco laid his forehead on Harry's shoulder. Harry's body immediately flooded with an immense relief.

Harry squeezed Draco's hand slowly. "I'm quite confused right now, but I know I need you with me," he told Draco, reaching up with shaky fingers to wipe his tears away. "I still can't remember our first kiss, but I can remember yesterday, and I know I don't want to lose it."

Rather crazily, Draco said, "You realize that according to your limited memories, I now technically own your first kiss instead of Finnigan? This... is sort of soothing to my soul."

Harry's ears burned with his soft blush. "It was a hell of a first kiss, I can say."

"I want to kiss you very badly right now."

The comment made Harry's heart thud. It was strange how he felt now. "Wh-why don't you?" he stammered. //Why am I even surprised anymore? This Draco is not only nice and dedicated and... cute, he's everything I could ever want. I do feel a need to be close to him, feel it as if it's always been there but is only now showing itself.//

Draco, however, looked scandalized. "You know we can't here! Sitting close is one thing, but..."

"Oh." Now he felt dumb.

Catching Harry's look of dejected confusion, Draco bit his lip and said slowly, "My father... wouldn't approve."

"Well, neither would mine?" Harry jabbed half-assedly.

Draco was looking over his shoulder in newfound paranoia. "My father is a bit different than yours, Harry. You know -- okay, sorry. You don't. Well... your parents know about us, but mine do not."

Harry took a slow breath in. "They don't??"

Draco shook his head. "No. I've tried... I've *tried* to tell him... but he doesn't understand about anything, Harry. He never has. He never will. He doesn't even like me being friends with you. He only allowed me to go to Hogwarts because I agreed to keep perfect marks and apply for Durmstrang for university... I was two weeks away from starting at Smeltings when I met you, Harry. At the sports store... but you... don't remember that."

"Ron told me," breathed Harry.

"Did he? Yes, he was there too, wasn't he... and Finnigan. Attached to your hip, of course. God, I'll never forget it. The moment you looked at me... I felt like I'd died. But all you did was laugh at me..." Draco paused, sighing heavily, and Harry suddenly realized that these were painful memories for Draco. He didn't even have the slightest, faintest familiarity with them, and he felt terrible for it. Draco breathed in again and continued resolutely, "And I tried to find out if you were going to Smeltings too, just on the slightest off-chance... and as soon as you all announced you were going to Hogwarts, I told you I was going there, too, just to see if you'd take notice back at me. You were so little and gawky and beautiful."

Harry, not knowing what to say, squeezed Draco's hand, flattered and fascinated by this side of the story. Draco absently rubbed his thumb down his kitten's gray-pink nose.

"So I asked Dad if I could go to Hogwarts instead... and... he threw a fit. It was idiotic of me, but I had to see you again, and I had no idea who you were. So I bartered away the choice to go wherever I wanted after high school if I could go to Hogwarts. He's... so controlling. Do you think I'm even wearing these prat clothes by choice?"

Draco gestured to his neatly-pressed gray slacks and dress shoes.

"I -- I think you... look good," Harry managed honestly.

"You always say that." Draco looked down. "Even if I'm just wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Or nothing at all."

"You're going to make my nose bleed." Harry's blood was trying to rush in several different directions at once, and it made his head spin.

"That'd be amusing." Draco perked a little. "I actually sort of like these cute reactions I'm getting from you... it's like... I get to teach you to kiss all over again!"

"Did you teach me to kiss before?" blinked Harry.

It was Draco's turn to blush now. "Don't be daft. You taught *me.* I've never had a boyfriend before. Or a girlfriend. My dad doesn't allow me to date, technically... just another reason he'd flip if he found out about us."

"Oh." Harry couldn't help a pleased smile. At least he wasn't alone in his kissing ignorance... plus, the thought of anyone else with his -or her- hands on Malfoy made his tortured blood boil. He supposed Draco felt the same way about Harry's past with Seamus.

"Call me sick, but... this could even be fun, in a way." Draco grinned with a bit of his old superiority. "I can't wait for the next time we get to be alone."

"When will that be?" Harry asked dizzily, embarrassed because he actually couldn't wait, either, as long as Draco didn't try something frightening.

"Hmm... Lars knows you're here, I suppose?"

It took Harry a second to realize that Draco most probably meant the butler who'd seen him to the servants' passageways. "Yeah... am I not supposed to be seen?"

"Well... we needn't worry. He knows about us and he helps me cover a lot... and, well, it helps if you're not seen, because then Father forgets to bitch at me about 'the ragtag company I keep,' but they won't... fry you, or anything."

"Fry me?" laughed Harry.

"C'mon." Draco took his hand back from Harry and lifted the fuzzy kitten to his chest. "I think if we can make it to my room, we can... remain undisturbed for at least a little while."

That definitely aroused Harry's... interests. "Ooh, I want to see your room."

"You've only seen it a couple of times," Draco admitted as the two stood. Harry's blood pressure rose even higher at the way Draco looked in his "prat" outfit -- the slacks fit him *impeccably* well, clinging and hanging in all the right places, and the turtleneck's stretchy material was so thin that he could faintly make out the lines of Draco's abdomen. His hair was nearly shock-white compared to its midnight blackness, his ivory skin more of a silvery peaches and cream in contrast to it. Even his buckle-style black dress shoes were sexy. Harry, walking slightly behind Draco as they started back towards the house, quickly untucked his tee shirt to hide the evidence of the effect Draco had on his body.

//What I wouldn't give for a long black Hogwarts robe,// he thought nervously.

"Mmm, kitty," Draco was cooing at his cat. "You're so precious!"

Harry snickered a little.

Draco looked up, blinking. "I sound like my mother referring to some ugly child one of her guests has with them!"

"I saw your mother... preparing for a Christmas party already. She didn't see me, though," he added quickly. The two trotted up the stairs and onto the back porch.

Draco made a face which showed great distaste. "She doesn't notice anything."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Harry changed the subject, pulling the kitchen door open for Draco.

"Guess you really like your cats."

"Yes... thank you. I do. I certainly have enough. It's all over-compensation from my father, though... he won't let me have a dog, so what do I get instead? Four thousand cats. Good thing I'm not allergic, or there'd be hell to pay."

Harry had sudden visions of Draco in a room so covered in cats that one couldn't see the floor or any wall space. Cats were climbing all over his head, and Draco was cackling, "On, on, my Dread Feline Army!" He had to smother his laughter at the very thought. It was so like Mrs. Figg that he paused to wonder if Mrs. Figg was of relations to Malfoy in this life.

The excited man from before noticed the two walking into the kitchen. "Ah! Young Malfoy! Good mornin' to ya! Friend draggin' you in for brekkie?"

"I'm not hungry," Draco said morosely.

"Ahh, *sure* you ain't," he winked. "Biscuits are still warm in the basket, there."

He pointed with a large knife to a little basket before returning the blade to slicing an onion.

"I don't want any. Maybe some milk for Fang, though." Draco opened the refrigerator and got one of what seemed like a dozen glass bottles of milk from it. "Thanks, Dobs."

"Don't mention it, don't mention it."

The kitten mewling in one hand and a bottle of milk in the other, Draco nodded towards the hallway Harry'd come from. "Let's disappear."

"Where's your room?" asked Harry as they did, indeed, disappear into the darkness of the servants' passages.

"Third floor," replied Draco, navigating the passages with ease, as a blind animal would know its way through a house from knowing it by heart. They were silent the rest of the way, up two staircases and popping out into a well-lit hall, much more trafficked than the rest. "Last doors on the hall, the big ones right at the end, there. Hurry."

The two boys stealthily rushed in a matter of seconds to the large set of double doors, Draco pushing one of them open with a foot and ushering Harry inside quickly.

* * * * *

Draco's massively large bedchamber was by far the most interesting room Harry had ever come across, even for its lack of posters or pictures on the walls and the muted, dark colours of it. In the very corner was an extensive, solid cherrywood structure, bed on top, desk and over-stocked bookcases below. A bed much too big for only Draco and probably even for Draco's entire family put together was unmade, blood red silk sheets shining against black and white pillows and a fairly old, worn-out baby blue blanket. The blanket dripped off the bed over the bookcase.

Harry blinked at it all, mouth falling open.

"Yes, you were fascinated by the bed both of the other times you were in here, too." Draco rolled his eyes. "No, I don't fall off, and yes, it's safe to sit in the study underneath, and yes, it was my idea and my family hates it, and no, I'm not allowed to put things on the walls."

Slowly, Harry shut his mouth.

"Any other questions?" grinned Draco, shutting the door also with his foot, then toeing his shoes off to reveal feet in black socks.

Harry shook his head mutely, looking around at the rest of the room. A walk-in closet, open to reveal enough clothes to suitably warm an entire third-world country; a large entertainment center with a telly and a stereo and forty video game systems, VCRs, and all sorts of weird devices; a bathroom door; it was almost like a four-star hotel suite or something. Harry had never seen anything like it. It was bigger than the Dursleys' living room, dining room, and kitchen all put together. In fact, Draco's walk-in closet was about four times bigger than Harry's home under the stairs had been.

Any and all complaints of Draco's family life went flying from Harry's head.

"You're a spoiled git, you know that?" he asked.

"Oh, very spoiled. I like your room better. It smells like you." Draco smiled, carrying his kitten over to his closet and setting it down gently. From the depths, he pulled a dish, and filled it with some of the milk. "There you are, pretty Fang."

"You keep your cats in here, too?" Harry looked around.

"Sometimes some of them are in here." Draco sat back on his haunches and watched the tiny Fang as it lapped at its milk. "Ursula likes it in my closet... her kittens were born here. Shampoo prefers the kitchen, and so does her litter. Lucky sleeps in my bed a lot. Sometimes Terror and Horror are in the little study under my bed... they like sitting at my feet and clawing them to shreds."

"You have... a lot... of cats."

"I told you so!" Standing, Draco made a face, then took a swig of the milk straight from the bottle. Harry stared at his pale throat working near the confines of the cowl neck of his turtleneck in fascination. Draco finished off half of what was left in the bottle, panting. "I really am hungry, I just never eat anything at the table. I like to refuse to eat just to bugger off my father."

Harry only blinked at Draco, who blinked back, unaware of the white milk mustache clinging to his upper lip.

"Wh..what?" asked Draco. Before he could help himself, Harry moved forward and used his own body to move Draco back up against the wall next to his closet. Draco emitted a soft gasp of surprise.

"We're alone," explained Harry briefly. Then, he pressed his inexperienced mouth against Draco's, the coolness of the milk left on his lips clashing with the heat between them. Thoroughly surprised, Draco remained still, allowing Harry's kiss as if unsure, but breathing like he'd just caught the snitch. Harry's breathing was nervous and labored, too, and their chests undulated against each other at the same time their mouths began to move in unison to deepen the kiss.

//He makes me feel drunk...// Harry vaguely realized, thoughts dimmed and body finely attuned to every reaction Draco made.

Shyly, Harry coaxed open Draco's lips and found his mouth cool and sweet from the milk. A shiver raced up his spine at the taste and sensation, and Draco squirmed, a noise not unlike a kitten's squeak coming from his throat. Harry slid his tongue along Draco's slowly, then shyness washed over him and he retreated, pulling back from Draco with an audible liplocking noise.

He blushed, and Draco slowly opened glassy eyes.

"You had a milk mustache," coughed Harry, embarrassed at his display of rabid hormones. He simply wasn't used to this making out thing yet, though he'd progressed to the point of wanting to do it.

Draco responded by lifting the bottle of milk and chugging down the rest of it in marathon time. Then, he gulped and dropped the bottle onto the floor.

"There, now I have another."

With that, he threw his arms around Harry's neck and initiated another icy-cold, sweetened kiss.

This time, as their bodies lined up again, there were two very obvious displays of rabid hormones meeting somewhere in the middle, and they both made soft noises at the heated contact. Harry's body flooded with heat as Draco's tongue invaded his mouth in a smooth attack. Harry felt much better under Draco's control. It still wasn't easy to admit to wanting to make out with Draco, or even maybe harboring a deeper sort of Want for him. The Malfoy Harry had always known could never have elicited *this* sort of response from him.

His wandering thoughts and feelings were crushed under a stampede of sensation as Draco twisted his hips up at Harry. Harry gasped, trembling under the onslaught.

With another loud noise, Draco broke from him and growled, "Did I scare you?"

"Ah.. God.. no... I just..."

"I want..." Draco seemed to mentally kick himself, cutting off his speech. "Well..."

"What?" he breathed, blood pulsing all over and making him throb in very interesting places. Draco moved slowly and sinuously under him.

"Well... would you... let me... take off your shirt?" Draco ducked his head a little, flushing up pink. "Sorry... I just... want to see you -- touch you... so bad... and..."

Harry diverted his eyes and panted into Draco's neck, torn between fear of the unknown and sudden desperate desire to venture into the unknown... with Draco. Lifting his heated mouth to Draco's ear, he whispered, "All right."

His boyfriend exhaled, and Harry suddenly felt Draco's heartbeat thrumming against his tee shirt. He felt Draco's hands slowly move up his back, then back down, then up again, this time taking the hem of his tee shirt with it... his fingertips barely brushed against the bare skin of Harry's back, sending him into gooseflesh and shivers of pleasure. He raised his arms so Draco could lift the shirt over his head, cheeks burning as he did so.

Draco slowly dropped the tee shirt aside, staring with reverence at Harry, who was doing a full-body blush under the heated gaze. Harry wasn't sure what to do next, terribly excited and embarrassed at Draco's eyes devouring his bare skin.

"Just like the first time. So beautiful," mumbled Draco, then in one quicksilver movement, had his turtleneck up and over his head, discarding it along with Harry's. Harry nearly passed out, completely overwhelmed. *Draco* was beautiful, not Harry. He was so scrawny and gangly compared to him... how could Draco actually *want* to see him without a shirt?

But those fears quickly dissolved as Draco reached out, yanked Harry by the arms against his bare chest, and kissed him fiercely. The contact of their bare skin sent electric jolts through them both. Harry's gasp was one with Draco's as their hips aligned and Draco's hands roamed over Harry's bare back. Draco's skin was soft and perfect, and both of their bodies were still too young to be covered with much hair, but there *was* some, and just thinking about where the light, baby-soft strands on Draco's stomach that tickled his bellybutton led to was even more overwhelming to Harry. Time completely slipped away for the two as Harry gradually got up the nerve to put his hands on Draco's nude waist, and Draco got his fill of odd noises made by touching and torturing all sorts of places on Harry's body. When it all seemed to be overheating and the tension was in terrible danger of breaking, a knock on the door saved Harry from that embarrassment.

They jerked apart like a fire had started between them. Draco cursed under his breath, and before Harry knew it, he found himself being shoved into Draco's closet with the door shutting in his face. In the dark, Fang rubbed against his ankle and mewed with interest at his intrusion. Panting, aroused, and displaced, he strained to hear the fervent rustling sounds Draco was making.

//Getting dressed again? ...Oh, great, my shirt is still out there on the floor.//

He sat down, picked up Fang to quiet the incessant mewing, and cuddled the soft bundle of fur to his naked chest, listening intently.

A moment of silence passed, then Draco said breathlessly, "Enter!"

Squeaking indicated that Draco's bedroom door was opening, and Lars' voice drawled, "Master Malfoy, lunch is ready to be served in the kitchens. Your father has just left for his trip to London, so you may take it up here if it pleases you."

Draco sighed, relief heavy in his tone. "Lunch. Right. Thank you, Lars."

Lars disguised a chuckle with a cough. "Has Master Harry... left so soon?"

Draco laughed out loud. "Ah, no."

The closet door opened, and Draco, once again in his black turtleneck, hair a mess, grinned down at him, Harry's tee shirt in hand. Harry glared up at Draco, holding Fang in the same defensive position Draco'd held the cat in earlier.

"Time for you to come out of the closet, Harry," Draco said with much cheer.

Harry retorted, "Actually, I believe it's time *you* came out of the closet, Draco."

"Oh, HA," said Draco sardonically, the death glare making a brief appearance. "Why don't *you* tell Father for me and we'll see who'll want to hide in the closet."

Lars was obviously very amused. "Shall I have plates sent up to you? You needn't bother to get dressed again."

"Oh, get out."

Laughing, the man left, and Draco was left to Harry's glare.

* * * * *

"Thanks for bringing me, Draco," Harry nervously murmured. They were sitting in Draco's black 1996 Cadogan, with leather interior and a Stellar CD player. The car appeared to be a jeep, and Harry felt almost a freedom he'd never experienced before in it. Although, that probably had more to do with being with Draco, than anything else. They were parked at the curb in front of Seamus Finnigan's house. Draco wore a grim smile, but nodded in reply. "I... I understand you don't want me to talk to him, but he's my friend, all right?"

"I understand," Draco tore his gray eyes away from Harry and stared out the window. "I don't like it, or him, but I wont be a jealous boyfriend, dictating who or what you can or cannot do."

Those words made Harry sigh with relief. It was wonder enough Draco had agreed to bring him here, it was even more amazing that, especially now, Draco should trust Harry so much as to let him go to Seamus.

"Thank you," Harry whispered. It came as an instinct, but he gently slipped a finger beneath Draco's chin, raising it enough to plant a light kiss on his soft, pliant lips.

"So," Draco said, gruffly, when the kiss ended, "what time do you want me to come and get you?"

"Er," Harry turned towards the window, glancing at the two-story ranch style home. "If it's just the same, I'll get Seamus to bring me home. I don't know how long this'll take, and well..."

"You don't have to explain anything," Draco interrupted, his voice a light command. "I'll go over to Hermione's--Maybe between the three of us we can figure out and pinpoint what exactly is wrong with you. I'll call you, okay?"

Harry nodded, and quickly pecked him on the cheek, and leaped from the car. Waving goodbye, Harry watched as the Cadogan turned around the corner and disappeared from sight.

"Here goes nothing," Harry sighed. He walked through the gate at the front of the white-picket fence and up the sidewalk. Flowers littered both sides of the walkway, bright colours contrasting with dark green grass of the yard. A sprinkler was going in one corner, and Harry leaped over a growing water puddle. He faltered as he approached the steps leading to the door.

//Do I want to know?// he wondered. //I could just turn back, and put this time behind me. Draco'd be pleased, and I wouldn't even have to worry about confusing myself more.// But he knew he couldn't. He'd come so far, already, and if he was going to be here, he should know it all. The good and the bad.

With a new burst of confidence, he approached the door, knocking once. Stepping back and trying to keep his calm, he waited for the familiar sandy-haired blond to answer.

"Hello?" a voice called before opening the door. Harry instantly recognized the Irish accent and he held back a smile. Maybe he didn't know *this* Seamus, but his...well, maybe this wouldn't be that bad, would it? The door was thrust open and Harry was met with an overwhelming silence. He took this opportunity to check the Irish boy out. His sandy blond hair fell across his face in a messy style, almost like Harry's, but it was longer, and actually appeared in a symbolic order. His eyes were dark hazel, specs of green standing out near the edges. He was dressed in blue jeans, which Harry couldn't help but notice were quite...tight, and a faded red tank top.

"Harry?"

Harry smiled lopsidedly, "Hullo, Seamus."

Seamus' face was one of nearly pure shock. He blinked several times before blurting, "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but why are you here? Last time we talked you said you never wanted to see me again..."

"I...I'd like to talk to you," Harry said, quietly. "I have something really important to talk to you about."

Seamus bit his bottom lip. "First, before I let you in, is there any chance this will have anything to do with getting back together? Because..."

"I don't think so," Harry said, softly. So, it really was as Ron said... Seamus regretted letting him go.

Sighing, Seamus nodded, "I figured that. Well, come on in, and I'll help you with whatever you need."

Harry smiled his thanks and followed him up the steps and closed the door quietly behind him. He cast a curious glance around the rooms as they walked, taking in the classy wall decorations and messy floors that just spoke volumes of a living family.

Seamus led him up a staircase and into a bedroom. The walls were a dull white and a few hockey posters were on one wall, while awards and a few trophies were lined on a shelf on another. //Are we all award-winning players?// he wondered. He walked up to the shelf and gazed at a trophy. '1996 CHAMPIONS - BEST ALL AROUND TEAM IN COUNTRY.' //I have one just like this on the shelf,// he noted.

"Have a seat." Seamus gestured to beanbag chairs in the corner. Harry shook his head and perched on the edge of the bed instead. Seamus fidgeted. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"I, uh...need your help." Harry took a deep breath. "You know how bad of shape I was in after the accident?"

Seamus' face paled, but he nodded mutely.

"Well, when I woke up yesterday morning, I couldn't remember anything. I didn't know my parents were alive, or that Draco Malfoy was my boyfriend, or anything about *this* life. I've been trying to put things together since yesterday and all its doing is making me more confused."

Seamus blinked, and said slowly, "You forgot... everything?"

"Yeah," Harry said, glumly. "Ron told me a little bit about, er, us last night... and I know some of my history again with Draco, and everything else is blank. I want your help. Explain to me about you, please," he added at Seamus' frown.

"I.. I..." Seamus sighed, "I'm surprised you would even want to know. You were so angry with me before. You started to blame me for the accident, because I asked you to come along... I only wanted..."

"Wanted what?" prompted Harry.

"A chance for you to see me without Malfoy around," Seamus grimaced at the memories. "He hates me, and it's not like it's not a mutual hate, either. I'm not a big fan of him, even if he is a hell of a hockey player."

"Oh." Harry digested this. He could understand Seamus' reaction, after all, it was how he felt about *his* Malfoy. But this Draco seemed...different. He wasn't anything like the mean-spirited boy at home. "Well, do y'mind telling me about...us? I'd like to remember."

Seamus stared at him for a moment, still unsure if Harry was telling the truth. Harry had never lied to him in the past, and he *had* gone through a difficult time... "All right, mate, what do you want to know first?"

"Er," Harry stammered. He'd hoped for information, and now that he had a chance to know something, he didn't know where to begin. "How about when we first started to date?"

Seamus closed his hazel eyes for several seconds, and then nodded firmly.

"I've always known I was gay. I came out in sixth grade, believe it or not. You really don't have a relationship with someone else at that age, but hockey practice was always fun. Cute guys, in hockey gear, sometimes bashing into you...

"Well, then in eighth grade, you told the hockey team you had something important to tell us... I couldn't even imagine what it would be, you were looking so serious. Ron knew, and kept giving you encouraging smiles. I thought maybe that you were quitting the team, and I think Oliver Wood was dreading the same thing. But it wasn't, and you said, 'I...I don't want this to change your opinion about me, I'm still the same guy, but... I'm gay.' We were all pretty shocked, to say the least.

"Oliver clapped you on the back, and said it didn't matter as long as you continued to help us win our games. I think after that everyone fell into ease about it and no one said anything bad about it. After practice, when everyone else had left, I cornered you in the locker room. You stared at me for a few minutes, before asking me what I wanted. I said, 'Well... I was wondering, would you like to go out with me sometime?' Of course, I was a nervous wreck then, and it came out so fast I had to repeat myself. You took it in for several moments, and then said, 'Sure.' It was like a brush off of, 'Why not? Nothing better to do.' It was good enough for me, so I smiled and said, 'Let's go to a movie on Friday.' And after that, it was kind of like history. We came inseparable pretty quick and later you confided into me you'd never been kissed before, and neither had I, so I kissed you."

"Oh," was all Harry could say. He began to digest the words. //So, I came out in eighth grade to the whole hockey team? I must've been very stupid or very brave. ....Gryffindor.//

"I think you were both," Seamus said. Harry blinked. Seamus smiled, sheepishly. "You spoke out loud. I don't think you meant to, as seeing as you said Gryffindor and there's no such thing as a Gryffindor, outside those fantasy books we read, you know..."

"Oh." Harry found himself repeating the utterance like a broken record. "All right, so I was stupid and brave back then. What happened on that date?"

Seamus flushed, remembering their first date. "In all actuality? Not a damn thing. I was too nervous and you acted like you didn't even care. It wasn't until a few dates later when I kissed you, that you took me seriously."

"Why didn't I take you seriously before?" Harry wondered. Seamus' face, which had been returning to its natural colour, flushed again, and he mumbled something beneath his breath. "What was that?"

"I...had spent most of seventh grade hitting on you, indirectly. And, well, you thought I was just playing you. But I never was, because I was always in love with you."

Harry felt bowled over. Two stupid thirteen-year-olds dating and experimenting with newfound sexuality was one thing... but he was... unprepared, to say the least, for this statement. When Seamus had prodded him about getting back together, it was no wonder he looked so disappointed. It wasn't quite as light as Harry had imagined. So he asked his next question.

"Are you now?"

Ducking his head, Seamus nodded and couldn't meet Harry's eyes. "Yeah... Especially after last year, when I almost lost you completely. The accident...."

"Ca-can you explain to me about the accident?" Harry whispered. He urged himself not to cry, but it was so hard not to think about it. He lost a chance of really knowing Cedric in both worlds. To Voldemort, and to a drunk driver... "Was it my fault?"

Seamus' eyes widened, and he shook his head in a wild sandy torrent of hair. He reached over and grasped Harry's shoulders with boyish, strong hands.

"No. It. Was. Not. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I... I'd been trying to forget about you, trying to rid the images of you kissing Draco in the hallway." His eyes drifted shut, but he didn't let Harry go. "I was desperate to think of someone else like that. I was resentful, I guess. There was no reason for our breakup. But you were spending so much time with Malfoy, blowing me off for extra practice with him, or working on homework, that I thought if I broke up with you, it would cause you to remember *me*. It was so hard, Harry... so... hard. I felt like I was breaking, and then you went and fell in love with my nemesis..."

Seamus was very close to Harry now, who was shocked with all the detail Seamus was providing him with. It was like he'd waited ages to get to tell Harry all of this. The Irish boy gathered himself before he continued.

"Time went on. I ignored you in the hallways and started briefly dating Dean Thomas. You asked me why I wasn't talking to you at all and I went, 'Why? Is it familiar?' and walked away. We never spoke again until the day of...of... the accident. Dean and I were going to go on a double date with Cedric Diggory, and his girl, Cho Chang. Dean got sick, and had to stay home. The flu was going around... Well, I wanted to go still, so I asked you if you'd go with me. You were surprised and said you couldn't tell me until you checked with Draco.

"You asked, he didn't put up much of a fight over it. So we went out, and had a blast. It was just like old times, once we forgot about our history. I... I kissed you in the funhouse, and you responded. Just like before. It was so sweet, Harry. I'd missed it so much. I always felt right with you. It turned pretty deep, before you broke away, looking ashamed, and angry, and I knew that I'd just hurt you a lot.

"'What the hell was THAT, Finnigan? I'm *involved* with someone I love a lot,' you said. It nearly broke my heart but I had wanted it so much, for so long. We didn't speak much for rest of the date, and on the way home... I had to kiss you one last time. It was going to be my last chance. Because I knew you'd never go out with me in public again after that. So I kissed you. You pushed me away, yelling something about, 'Don't touch me. Ever again.' It startled Cedric, and he turned around to see what the problem was. And that fucker Bagman hit the car before we could even swerve out of the way. Cho and I came out fine, Cedric died on impact, and you...you could have been dead for all I knew. You were in a shock for a week, left in the hospital, and then once you healed from that, you had a lot of mental problems. Kept blaming yourself, and Cho didn't help matters. She ended up transferring to a new school because you and the school had too many memories."

Harry stared down at his hands, sighing with guilty tears stinging his eyes. "None...none of that sounds familiar to me, at all... I wish it did, Seamus, I really do, but..."

Seamus nodded, swallowing heavily. "Harry, can *I* ask you something, now?"

"Uh, sure." Harry looked up, eyes watching Seamus carefully. His eyes roamed the blond's face like a deer-caught-in-headlights, timid and scared. Seamus was handsome, and in some unknown part of him, Harry knew he'd thought the same thing before.

"If there's no chance for us to get back together," Seamus hesitated, "why did you want to know all of this? I mean, we aren't even friends anymore, and maybe I *wouldn't* believe you, so why put yourself up to risk?"

Harry really couldn't answer that, so he stared intently at his hands, as if the answer were written on them. He didn't even know *his* Seamus well, but after Ron told him of his past here, he couldn't *not* just go on oblivious, while getting to know Draco, Ron, and 'Mione all over again. Didn't he owe it to him? Harry hesitated to speak when he noticed the tear roll down Seamus' cheek. It was like watching someone's heartbreak. //Second person I've made cry today...//

* * * * *

Abruptly, Seamus clamped a hand over Harry's mouth and said with frustration, "I don't understand any of this. I really don't understand why you're even here, but I do know one thing."

"What?" Harry croaked as Seamus released his mouth. His hand had been warm, so gentle and hot over his lips.

"That I have one last chance." With that, Seamus leaned over and kissed Harry softly. Harry froze, completely, feeling the tenderness of his lips and an intense stab of how *wrong* this was. It was nothing like the kisses with Draco. It was short, unsure, and scared. It was so different that Harry felt his heart pounding in not elation, but fear. He pulled away sharply.

"No," he croaked, again. "Don't, Seamus. Just... I..." Fumbling to his feet, he started for the door. "I didn't ask you to kiss me, Seamus. I just wanted to understand. Don't complicate things that don't need to be complicated."

//That wasn't supposed to happen. That wasn't supposed to HAPPEN!//

Good God, what had he done?! And what would Draco say?

"Harry, I--"

But Harry didn't listen; he was already running from the room. From the house. From Seamus. From too many emotions he wasn't ready for. Feelings he would never be ready for.