A SoulMate's Story

If you want me like this
And if you need me like that
It was dead long ago
But it's all coming back to me
It's so hard to resist
And it's all coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now
But it's all coming back

His breath was heavy as he ran all the way from the carriages outside of Hogwarts to the ground floor of the school, barely noticing the familiar warmth and tenderness that enveloped him once he stepped in. Passing through Nearly Headless Nick with nothing more than a shiver, he rounded the corridor of one of the longer, deserted hallways and made his way speedily to the Headmaster's office.

Two things were on his mind. One, was how was he to explain the tale he had just experienced? How was he going to phrase his words? To break the rules of the time-traveling system had hard consequences, and secondly, how could he tell the head master what happened to his life? What made him feel hopeless?

He brushed the second thought out of his mind as he turned around the corner. His footsteps made sharp sounds against the floors, and the candles flickered as he past them with such haste. He was almost there; he could see the gargoyle ahead of him.

"Mr. Malfoy, where do you think you are headed?" a sharp voice interrupted his steps, and he had no choice but to swivel around on his heels. His eyes caught hold of Professor McGonagall, and he blinked several times to make sure he was seeing correctly.

"Minerva?" he whispered to himself, watching as she strode from a classroom door to stand in front of him, cutting him off from reaching his desired destination. She didn't hear him as she adjusted her spectacles on her nose, but she tilted her head up to show him her authority, not that he needed reminding.

He almost slapped himself a moment later when he realized what he had just called her. You half-wit, remember: You are seventeen here. You aren't allowed to call her by her given name!

"Mr. Malfoy, you are expected to be in the Great Hall about this time. Better hurry now, you might be late for the feast!" She gave him no smile, no warm regard whatsoever as he peeked over her shoulder to the gargoyle staring meaningfully at him. He looked back at her, desperate, and pleaded, "Mi--Excuse me, Professor, I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore immediately regarding something extremely important."

Professor McGonagall attuned her spectacles and gave him a stern look. Adjusting a dirty and worn out looking book at her side, she spoke to him.

"I assure you, he will be there when the feast has ended. You are expected as Head Boy, to be at that feast. Come now." She strode past him in her emerald robe, and he looked desperately at the gargoyle just a few feet in front of him.

"Mr. Malfoy, now, if you please?" her voice spoke of complete authority, and there was no amusement in it. He turned to look at her still figure, and sighed in exhaustion as he had no other choice but to turn around and follow her, either that or have an owl sent home for his disobedience.

He followed her along the Hallway quietly, making sure to keep behind her instead of beside her. Arriving along the main hallway, he saw some noticeably younger years make their way into the Great Hall, and she stopped in her tracks, turning around to him.

"You can talk to the headmaster later," she said softly, adjusting the book, holding it securely to her chest. He sighed and nodded, and with one last, dejected look, he made his way to the Great Hall.

His steps echoed in his ears, and Draco took a deep breath before opening the doors to the familiar place he called his home. Draco reached up and opened the doors, the familiar Hogwarts essence a bit comforting to his senses, and he took a step in, unaware of the of eyes cast upon his figure. Surveying the area around him, he turned to the Slytherin table and walked towards it, remembering where he was supposed to sit at this time period. Striding past his usual group of seatmates, he made his way to the front of the table, beside a second year.

The second year's eyes grew wide when Draco sat beside her, and she glanced to her friends around her, eyes disbelieving. Draco didn't notice. In fact, he didn't even notice the boy's green eyes on his features, studying him, the boy who was across the room seated at the Gryffindor table. Draco was so preoccupied with seeing his friends and year mate's so young, it was unbelievable. He only looked up when he saw the side door open, and walking in briskly was Headmaster Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was looking remarkably different... Draco looked him over, sweeping his eyes over the old man's figure. There were bags under his eyes, the deep blue of his eyes were almost a sad periwinkle, and Draco remembered this was the time of the upcoming war. Dumbledore smiled at all of them, and when he turned to look at Draco, it looked like he had nodded.

The Great Hall's door opened, and Draco's head turned to look at what opened it. His gaze caught the recognizable emerald color of Professor McGonagall's robes, and he watched in silence as the first years followed after her, curiously looking around the main dining area.

He noticed that Melinda was one of the first years. She was looking around curiously like all the others, but when her gaze caught Draco's, she smiled widely. Draco gave her a small smile in return before everyone's gaze turned to Professor McGonagall as she went ahead of the first years and got out the stool, and amazingly, the Sorting Hat.

The first years peered around each other, trying to see what it was about. Draco watched as he briefly remembered his first year ever, being sorted, and he watched, quietly, as the song started.

The song was clear and loud, and everyone clapped when the Sorting Hat finished singing. The first name was being called out.

"Abley, Susanna," she called out loudly, and a small, trembling first year girl with pigtails stumbled to the platform. Draco watched as she lifted the hat and sat on the stool, only for it to call out her house ten seconds later.

"Hufflepuff!"

The Hufflepuff table cheered as she took the sorting hat with unstable hands. She walked over to them and sat beside an older boy, talking excitedly with him. Draco couldn't help but smirk a bit when he saw that.

The list went on, and then Professor McGonagall called out, "Bogtrottle, Melinda."

Draco perked his head up immediately upon hearing a name he recognized. He watched as Melinda, the small girl he was helping earlier in Kings Cross Station stumble on the stage, and she sat down with shaking shoulders, putting the hat on her head.

Bogtrottle? Draco thought to himself weakly, and watched with everyone else as she sat on the stool. The hat stayed on her for a couple of minutes, until, finally, it shouted out, "Gryffindor!"

She swayed as she stood up, and Draco watched carefully as she took the hat off shakily, making her way to the Gryffindor table. She looked over her shoulder at him for a second and smiled, before sitting down beside one of the prefects on the other side of the room.

Bogtrottle? Melissa had a sister? He asked himself; completely amazed that one of his student's siblings was attending this school the same time he was. Professor McGonagall continued to call out names, but Draco was only slightly aware of it.

When she had finished, Dumbledore was on his feet, clapping as everyone got sorted. Draco wanted to roll his eyes as he heard the same speech over again.

"Welcome," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes that were dull earlier turned to a bright blue, sparkling in the candlelight, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Book, difference, soul and honey cakes! Thank you!"

He sat back down after what seemed like a glance Draco's way again, and some of the older students laughed, while some of the first years that sat beside Draco looked around curiously to see what was so funny. Draco couldn't help but smirk when he heard those words... but something was different... he couldn't quite pinpoint it... but...

Suddenly, he could feel those eyes again. Without looking up, he knew who was staring at him. They were curious, he could tell without looking up, and they searched his face. Did he dare look up?

Taking a reasonable amount of courage, he lifted his gaze from his plate, and stared across the room at the beholder of the magic. Staring into his eyes halfway across the room, he could feel the magnetic pull between them, and he looked back down as his heart found the known cause of his distress.

He didn't look up again.

----------

Finally, he said to himself as he rushed to Dumbledore's quarters. He hoped it wouldn't be too late; after all, it was an hour after the feast ended, and having to do his head boy duties, he didn't have that much time.

Seeing the gargoyle in front of him, he rushed to it, throwing out a random password, hoping it would start to move. It didn't do anything. It continued to stare at him, and he swore it was giving him a look, saying, You can do better.

"Lemon-Drops," Draco said quickly and quietly, brows furrowing as the gargoyle continued to stay stationary.

He tried again, "Milky-way."

It didn't move, not one inch. Draco placed his hand on the Gargoyle's shoulder, and in a pleading voice, "Please let me in."

Of course, he had a little hope that it would take pity on him and let him in, but it didn't. Sighing, he tried again.

"Chocolate Frogs," he said quietly.

"Mr. Malfoy, I was hoping you would be seeing me," a wary voice said behind him, and Draco jumped a mile high at the voice that startled him out of his concentration. Turning around with lightning speed, he watched as Dumbledore took steps towards him, smiling tiredly at him.

"H-headmaster, I tried to come sooner, but--," he started out, but Dumbledore just held up his hand and brushed past him, leaning in and petting the gargoyle's head. Draco watched, confused, and leaned in absently when the Headmaster said the password, which was unmistakably 'Snickers'.

The headmaster gave him a small smile before he stepped back and waited as the gargoyle made way for him, and Draco followed quickly into the headmaster's office.

His tale was about to begin.

----------

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Malfoy?" the headmaster asked as he took out his wand, preparing tea for himself. Across from him, Draco shook his head and leaned forward in his seat, watching the old man make some tea.

"All right, what was it that you wanted to see me about, Draco?" the man asked quietly, peering through his spectacles. Draco cleared his throat quietly and said, "Um... It-it's about that note I sent you when I was at the Malfoy manor."

Dumbledore nodded and sipped his tea, and Draco continued without hesitation, "I need your help."

Dumbledore smiled slightly and his blue eyes sparkled, Draco noticed, and the old man nodded for Draco to continue. Sipping his tea, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair.

Draco took a deep breath and cradled his head in his hands. Quietly, and with new found strength, he said, "I'm from the future... I'm thirty one years old, a defense against the dark arts teacher and about two days ago, I arrived here through a mirror."

He looked up to see Dumbledore studying him. Silently, the old man leaned forward and placed the teacup on the saucer, and said gravely, "What mirror, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco looked up at this. He did expect a question like this, yes, but he would have been more assured if that weren't the first question. Quietly, "Um, The mirror of... I think it started with an 'E", I think..." Draco sounded a bit unsure, "Erised?"

Dumbledore nodded curtly, and said simply, "I see."

The elder wizard leaned back in his chair very slowly, seemingly thoughtful, and Draco blinked at his assessment. He watched as Dumbledore's face became expressionless, but filled with some hidden emotion that Draco couldn't quite identify. ... Was this good?

"Sir, maybe ... um, you didn't hear me," Draco tried again and sat on the edge of his chair. He continued quickly, "I'm a thirty one year old man stuck in a seventeen year old body, and please," he added, and the desperation that was evident in his voice became stronger, but the pitch of his voice became weaker, "send me back, please..."

Dumbledore looked at him for long moment, and Draco nervously cradled his head again. He looked up when Dumbledore cleared his throat softly, and he watched as the older wizard said, "I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's worst fears were true. Letting out a shaky sigh, he ran his hand through his hair, biting his lower lip.

"You could go back if you saw that mirror again, though, Draco," the headmaster said softly, and Draco looked up into his eyes. They were that bright periwinkle he saw earlier, and his heart surged with hope.

"How do I do that, sir?" he whispered, and he watched as Dumbledore looked back at him, and said quietly, "You have to believe. Have you ever heard of the mirror of Erised, Draco?"

Draco shook his head, and Dumbledore continued in a solemn, quiet tone, studying the thirty-one-year old man in a seventeen-year-old body, "If you spell it backwards, Draco, it spells Desire."

Draco's heart stopped in its place for a fraction of a second. Of course, he thought to himself, his brain taking in the obvious answer. Dumbledore quietly continued after sipping a cup of his tea, "Surely, you must have figured it out. In order for that mirror to take you time traveling, no doubt it must have been... something... unexplainable. An emotion unexplainable, a thing... unexplainable. Do you understand, Draco?"

Draco didn't. In fact, he was sorely confused.

The headmaster smiled gently, "The mirror of Erised doesn't make things come true, Draco. It makes one realize, though, whether we want to admit it or not, our deepest desire. I know I am asking a lot, but... do you mind if I ask what you saw in the mirror, when you looked into it?"

Silence reigned between them, and Draco lifted his gaze. Biting his lip, he remembered one thing: a kiss, a kiss so pure and solid, it must have been real.

He spoke, "I was looking at something I lost... about a year ago. I loved him, he was my soul... headmaster," he whispered and his voice was strangled, and his own gray eyes became heavy, "I saw myself with my husband of seven years... I saw myself with my husband."

Dumbledore watched as the boy in front of him cover his mouth with his hand, and breath in a struggling breath. Dumbledore waited patiently as Draco continued after a while, getting his resolve back, "I just want him to be with me again. Alive... well."

And with that, Draco sighed, and all he needed to tell Dumbledore... was finished.

"Ah. I see," the old man nodded, and pushed up his spectacles on his nose, "Like I said before... the mirror of Erised doesn't make things come true. It just makes us realize what our... deepest desire is. Like I told a small first year a long time ago, it does not do well to dwell on dreams. Many have wasted in front of the mirror of Erised, Draco..."

He trailed off quietly to see Draco staring off into space. After a while, Draco looked at him, face filled with emotion, and he said quietly, "Then why did it do this to me? Why am I here? What do I have to do to get back?"

Dumbledore said in the kindest, warmest tone he could, looking straight into Draco's eyes as he did so, "It did it to you because you hide something, Draco. You're here because you have to learn not to give up hope... hope for what ever reason you are here for... and the only way to get back is if you fulfill your destiny, taking one step at a time, learning from your mistakes, trusting the right people, and deserting the disloyal. You, my boy, are here for a reason... never forget that your fate rests here..."

Draco watched as the old man finished. The warm, kind, encouraging blue eyes sparkled in the candle light, and Draco looked down, resting his thoughts, processing the new information.

You are here for a reason; your fate rests here, at this time, in this place. Draco looked up again, and with newfound determination, stood up steadily and he nodded.

The older man smiled and stood up as well, extending his hand. Draco shook it and trusted him, and he took a step back. Turning around without another word from his mouth, he made his way to the door, the new information spread out before him.

"Draco?" the headmaster said quietly, and Draco looked over his shoulder to see the man sipping his tea in his chair. Draco smiled and tilted his head, some of his hair splaying over his forehead, and waited for Dumbledore's wise words.

"Please, call me Albus when we talk in private," Dumbledore smiled, and Draco blinked a few times before he smirked slightly, and turned around and left, but not before saying goodnight.

----------

Making his way to the potion's classroom, Draco thought of the information given to him by his advisor. The candles in the hallway flickered as he walked past them, swaying on the wick.

It was already eleven o'clock, and he was supposed to be in bed for the new school day tomorrow, but recalling to himself that he was the head boy, he smiled as he remembered the privileges.

He was on his way to Professor Snape's room, needing a sleeping potion for tonight and the rest of the week. He doubted that he could get a reasonable amount of sleep and wake up the next morning with a big smile on his features.

Arriving at his destination, he knocked on the door with his knuckles and heard the sharp sound as it projected into the hall. He waited quietly in his place, hands in his pockets, waiting for Professor Snape to open the door.

He heard mild shuffling on the other side of the wooden door, and in a second, it opened. Draco stood there, staring up into the pale face of the potion's master, and said politely, "Good evening Professor."

The potions professor looked exceptionally younger, the wrinkles gone and the glare in his eye gave Draco a shiver. Snape raised an eyebrow and stepped into the hallway, halfway into the corridor Snape would classify as 'forbidden', and halfway into the safe confides of his potion's classroom.

"Mr. Malfoy," the older man drawled out, "I do hope you have come to disturb me for something important."

Draco smiled slightly and wondered why Harry had hated this man. In a quiet voice, leaning in, "I was wondering if it would be possible to obtain some sleeping draughts, Professor."

If Professor Snape was curious, he didn't show it. Instead, he backed away from the door and opened it for his student, watching Draco with his beady black eyes as the Slytherin walked into the cool room.

Professor Snape beckoned Draco alongside him as he made his way to his personal chambers, and Draco followed closely, looking around the darkened room to which his eyes quickly adjusted to. He followed Snape into his chambers and waited patiently by the door while Snape went in the bathroom, his robes fluttering behind him.

From the bathroom came a few sounds of glasses, maybe beakers or test tubes being clinked together, and then a soft voice spoke, "I presume you didn't have a good summer before school started."

Draco thought of that ironic question in his mind before he answered carefully, gently, keeping his voice above a whisper so it was audible enough for the elder man to hear, "No sir. In fact... this last year has been harsh on me."

Snape's head appeared in the doorjamb between the bathroom and his bedroom. Raising an eyebrow and coming out completely, he held a week's worth of sleeping draughts in his hands. He beckoned Draco to a chair beside his fireplace, and Draco sat down slowly, watching as the elder man sat opposite of him, holding the potions securely in his possession.

Draco stared at him while Snape stared back, the small fire in the fireplace slowly building up with each second he sat there. Not wanting to start anything, he waited for Snape to speak.

It took several seconds for Snape to talk, but finally, the elder man leaned forward with a raised eyebrow and drawled out in his monotone voice, "Would you care to share with me your thoughts, Draco? It is my duty as the Slytherin Head to assist my pupils."

Draco couldn't help but smile sadly, and he sat up erect, placing his entwined fingers on his lap. Quietly, he said, "It's nothing much sir. Just... it's just going to be a bit different this year."

Snape's raised eyebrow became two raised eyebrows, and Draco thought how the room became warmer the longer he sat there, either because of the building fire, or just talking with a man he trusted. He continued with a small smirk, "Nothing to embarrass the Slytherin house, of course."

A small smirk appeared on the man's lips across from him. Snape gave Draco a small smile, which Draco took as a sign of encouragement, and he continued in a soft voice, looking into the fire, "If I told you the truth, you would probably think I was crazy."

Snape leaned forward and handed the draughts to Draco, knowing now that Draco wouldn't leave even if he had those in his possession. Leaning back in his chair across from the blond Slytherin, Draco could feel Snape's gaze sweep over his face, and in that same voice which Draco found so irritating and so comforting at the same time, he spoke, "Mr. Malfoy..." he paused, "I have seen many mad people in my lifetime, and I highly doubt someone with your mental strength would even come close to the word 'crazy'. Please don't waste my valuable time telling me excuses when you know just as well as I do that in order for me to understand my pup--," but he was cut off by Draco's small chuckle. Raising an eyebrow, and looking sorely amused and irritated to his favored student, he asked, "Might I ask what is so amusing, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head and smiled, not before running his hand through his hair again. He said, amused, "Professor. I got it. If only Harry could see what a great bloke you were now, he would have trusted you sooner."

"Harry?" there was little amusement in the Professor's voice now. Looking at him with his beady black eyes, his lips curled up in a sneer, distaste was clearly written all over his face.

Draco even smiled at this amusing ironic scene before him. Glancing briefly around the room, from the fireplace to the stack of potion books, his eyes caught hold of 'The Encyclopedia of Mixed Potions, Volume 5'.

Quietly, in a small voice and without looking at Professor Snape, "You know there is going to be a volume 8, by the time I'm 25? It's going to be labeled as the 'Death Potions of the existing era'."

He turned his head to look at the surprised Professor Snape. Giving him a small, smug smirk, he leaned back carefully in his chair, not before setting the sleeping draughts to the side of his feet. With his hands still in his lap, he waited, and he was patiently rewarded with the monotonic voice of Professor Snape mixed with confusion and slight disbelief, "The creators of those books claimed there was not going to be any more potions. They also claimed, that if there were going to be more, it wouldn't be for another twenty five years."

Draco shrugged and continued, smiling sadly, "They're wrong. They will make one when I'm 19, called 'Volume six, the 100 ways to make a poisonous potion properly. When I'm 23, they will make 'Volume Seven, the 300 most difficult potions of all time', and when I'm 24, they will have 'Volume eight, Death Potions of the existing era'."

He smiled at the amazed face of the Professor. He smirked inwardly when Snape gawked at him for a second before he closed his mouth, putting a hand over it. Draco said quickly, looking at his lap, "There are currently only 82 ways to make a proper poisonous potion, but when I'm 19, they will have 100. I hear they are now coming out with a new one, 'Volume Nine, What to add in case your potion turns yellow'."

Snape's eyes did not waver from his face, and Draco looked towards the fireplace. Both of them didn't speak for a long time, and when someone finally did break the silence, it was Professor Snape's perplexed voice.

"My boy, how do you know this will happen?"

Closing his eyes, the last thing Draco remembered seeing was the different colors of the flame beside him, the flame mixing with orange, red and bright yellow. How they claimed the room with warmth and captured his eyes to look at them, to memorize it... and with his heart and his soul and his strength entwined as one, and with the flame and the eternal warmness as his guide, he spoke softly, words flowing from his lips like a song, "I'm a thirty-one-year-old, Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from the future stuck in my seventeen year old body. I am here because I have to do something. I don't know what, I don't know why... though, I have a clue," he paused, and he licked his dry lips, "and I'm stuck here... until I fix something."

And he opened his eyes, not surprised to see that it was hard to look at the man in front of him because of the emotion. Snape leaned forward after what seemed like an eternity, his expression still, and all emotion erased from his face except for a curious gleam in his black eyes. He looked Draco's features up and down, starting with his face, and then into his eyes, searching to see if what Draco just told him was true.

Draco just smiled at him and said shakily, after taking a deep breath, "Do you believe me, Severus?"

Snape continued to look at him for the longest time Draco thought someone could look at someone else, and finally, he replied, "Yes. For some strange, uncanny reason unknown to Muggle and Wizards, I do believe you, Draco."

Draco breathed out quietly and nodded. Looking down at his hands, he smiled sadly. They stayed in silence for a minute longer, and Draco spoke gently, "I bet you want to know some stuff about the future... and yes, you are still the Potion's Professor even after 13 years. I am your colleague, and we enjoy our late night talks about the delicacy of Bolivian coffee and the differences of the Egyptian potions and the ancient Aztec draughts."

Draco smiled. Snape stared. They both burst out laughing a second later.

When Snape finally regained his rational, his lips were curled up into a smirk, and in that familiar monotone drawl, he asked, "Would you like some Bolivian Coffee, Mr. Malfoy? Or, perhaps, something stronger?"

Draco smiled and replied with a smirk of his own, which left them both delighted, "Something stronger."

----------

"Do tell me, Draco," Snape paused as they both settled down opposite each other, each holding a glass of alcohol, "Do we end up winning the war?"

Draco gave him a look before he continued, "Yes, in fact, we do. We almost lost, and we lost many people... but, we won," Draco then smirked, "And you will never believe who helped us find out the dark lord's plans."

Draco figured that if no one had said anything to him in the future about what he was planning to say right now, that it would be tolerable to tell Professor Snape about the upcoming events.

Professor Snape's eyebrows shot up as he smirked, "Was it Parkinson?"

Draco chuckled and shook his head. Snape'll probably kill himself when he finds out who it was.

"One of the Weasley boys?" Draco shook his head again, his smug smile becoming wider. Even though the Weasley's helped a great deal of the war effort, they weren't that person.

Draco watched as the older man looked into the roaring fire. It was already past twelve, but both were awake. Draco watched as Snape sipped his drink again and shook his head, clearly and utterly confused.

"You wouldn't believe me. In fact, you would protest and claim I was wrong," Draco smirked and shifted in his chair, taking a small sip. Snape still wouldn't look at him, so Draco continued, "You always called him an idiot. He was placed in Gryffindor for a reason... come on Severus, you can guess."

Snape looked at him, and then finally, "Is it one of the Creevey boys?"

Draco smiled, and he could see that Snape was about to proclaim his victory, but Draco said with a smug smirk, "Nope."

Snape's face dropped and he sneered at Draco mockingly. Finally, he barked, "Well, come on boy, spit it out. Who is it?"

Draco's smile was about the size of Hogwarts, when he finally emphasized each and every syllable of the name on the tip of his tongue, "Neville Longbottom."

Snape almost dropped his glass, and he sputtered, looking utterly bewildered like Draco was guessing, "Longbottom?! Him?! What did he do to claim such fame?"

Draco shrugged and said simply, "No one believed he could help in the war, but they invited him to a meeting. After all, we needed all the help we could get. When no one would volunteer to be one of the spies and risk the opportunity of getting killed, he volunteered without hesitation. Everyone thought he would be killed, and tried to convince him otherwise not to go, but he rejected their efforts... and he pretended to go to their side. The next day we weren't expecting an owl back from him since he had made his journey, but we got one. And it said he got in. I suspect no one there on the dark side thought he would be much nuisance, and they were desperate," and Draco smiled, shifted in his place, and took a sip of his drink before he continued, "And he was the one that made the healing potions for their side. What they didn't know was that the healing draughts were actually poisonous, and after three days their numbers started falling. That's why they couldn't blame him right away or kill him for that matter when they all started to die. He must have killed at least fifty or so Death Eaters. Good for him." Draco finished darkly.

The blond boy could feel Snape's incredulous gaze sweep over his face, and he looked straight in his eye, looking to see what Snape thought without even asking him. Draco remembered that it was hard to grasp the news that Neville Longbottom who had been so weak at school... had killed so many people.

Snape watched as Draco spoke, hardly believing, and he drawled out, utterly perplexed and terrified at the same time, "And what has now happened to Mr. Longbottom?"

"He is now in Saint Mungo's," he continued before Snape could make an assessment, "It was a bit hard for him, unfortunately, he had seen some pretty awful stuff while he was under the Dark Lord's presence. Though, after he was cured, his wife ended up being Susan Bones from Hufflepuff... she ended up falling in love with him and he with her. Now, they both help the patients there, treat them and properly take care of them."

Snape leaned back in his chair as Draco continued, and Draco's eyes slowly started to become dull, losing the only sparkle left in them that reflected from the flames, "I see them once in a while."

Draco was glad Snape didn't ask a question about that; he really didn't feel like explaining why he went there. They sat in silence for a moment, and Draco forced a smile when Snape whispered, 'Longbottom', and shook his head.

Draco took another sip of his drink, looking back into the flames. Thinking back, every time he saw Neville and Susan, they were always holding hands, kissing when they thought no one was looking, sharing some hidden secret only spoken between them.

Draco snapped back into attention when he saw Snape shift from the corner of his eye. Seeing Snape give him a look, he realized that Snape asked him a question. Quickly, "Sorry Severus, I was thinking something. Could you repeat the question?"

Snape drawled out, "And what about you? What have you done after school, besides becoming a teacher?"

Draco looked down slowly, to his lap. He whispered, "I got married."

Draco could feel Snape's smile, but then that started to fade, as Draco didn't meet his eyes. Even the fire could feel something was wrong, for it died down some, into a mellow flame that filled the room with sympathy. Snape didn't ask any more questions, but Draco sighed, and continued, "I married a very beautiful person. We went to school together, and," he paused, "We went through a lot together," then he whispered to himself more than to Snape, "I miss him."

Snape leaned forward, and said quietly, "What was that, Draco?"

Draco looked up, and with a steady voice that was hard for him to control, he whispered a reply, "I miss him." And he looked back down, to his lap.

If Snape was disgusted, revolted, saddened, or confused, he didn't show it. The man's face was clear of emotion once again, but he shifted in his seat and patiently waited for Draco to continue.

Inhaling a shaking breath, Draco looked up into the black, understanding eyes of the potion's master. He smiled sadly, and his smile was returned by a reluctant smile from the Professor, and with that small encouragement, he spoke, "It's hard for me to sleep at night. I see him sometimes," he licked his dry lips, "in my dreams. You'll probably never guess who this person is either, in fact, you will probably faint when you hear his name."

Snape drawled out, "Is it, or does it have something to do with Harry Potter?"

Draco looked up quickly to see the same small smile on the Professor's lips. Clearly, it was forced even, he had to admit, but it was a smile all the same. Amazed, he said quietly, "How did you know it was him?"

It was Snape's turn to give him a smug smile. He said, "Well, beside saying his name earlier, Mr. Malfoy, I saw him give you the eye today in the Great Hall. He was looking at you throughout dinner, I assume something happened on the train."

Draco nodded, confirming Snape's suspicion. With a sad smile, he said gently, "We had a bit of a run-in."

Snape nodded and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Draco looked into the fire once again, and his eyes caught hold of the blue sparkle in the middle of it.

// Draco fell to his knees on the hard hospital floor, and the words echoed through his mind over and over and over again. There is no cure, Mr. Malfoy. We tried to save him, we tried to find a cure, but there is none.

He didn't feel Hermione's arms envelope him in a hug, nor did he hear Ron's whisper of denial above him. He wasn't crying, he couldn't... Harry is alive, he's alive, he's sane, and there is a cure.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said quietly, but Draco jerked away from Hermione, causing her to fall back and loose her balance. Standing up with a shaking body, he hissed towards Ron, Hermione and the doctor, "I don't believe it. I don't believe it," his voice cracked when he said it the second time, and he shook his head, blocking out the mental images now forging in his skull.

"D-Draco," Hermione whispered while standing up, tears trailing down her face. He looked down, away from her. He looked away from Ron, who was shaking and trembling from head to foot, just like he was.

"No, stop fucking saying that there is no cure, there is one! There is one!" he said shrilly, taking another step back, refusing to look up. He felt Hermione hug him again, and this time, he didn't pull away, he couldn't...

"No, no, no, no, no," he whispered in her neck, and he wrapped his arms around her, no no no no no no, he told himself as the scene around him faded into black. \

"Draco?" he vaguely heard across the room, but he continued to stare into the blue flame the fire was giving. He wasn't aware that tears and wetness escaped his eyes and ran down his cheeks until he reached up to his face and touched it. Sitting erect, he drew in a rather shuddering breath and wiped his cheeks, embarrassed to have been crying again. Looking at the man across from him who was looking at him with concerned features, he shook his head and forced a small smile, wiping his eyes while mumbling, "Just remembered something, sorry, can you repeat the question?"

"What happened to Mr. Potter, might I ask? Surely something must have happened for your emotions to spill forth..." Snape trailed off, but he was still leaning forward on his seat.

Draco smiled despite himself at Snape's question. Figuring it would be the most concerned thing he would get from this man's lips, he sighed and took in another small, shuddering breath. Exhaling it a minute later, and gaining some resolve, he looked up into the black eyes, and said simply, hoping he didn't sound that pathetic as he was feeling, "Harry got captured, by Dementors. They wanted revenge, and before any one of us could save him, t-th-they kissed him."

Snape studied him wordlessly. Draco whispered while looking to his lap, "I guess you were somewhere when Harry got kissed... because you didn't save him." He trailed off quietly, but his tone wasn't accusing.

As he shifted, more tears ran down his face. He didn't even bother trying to wipe them away, because he knew more would just replace them. He could feel Snape's body shift across from him, and when he looked up, Snape was looking into the fire. Draco continued shakily, and his voice wavered, "He's in Saint Mungo's. Just... two days ago, it was a year since the incident. I've given up hope to bring him back, because there is no possible way to do so. They burned the information and outlawed the cure before Harry was even kissed..." he sighed and cradled his head. Tears flowed from his eyes and he sighed again. "A-and even if I did find the information... by some miracle, it would be hard, because it is a dangerous process to bring back the soul of someone who got a kiss from a Dementor."

Looking up, he watched the expressions of the Potion Master. The man was looking into the fire, no expression evident on his face, and his drink was placed on a table beside them. Draco watched as Snape turned to look at him, and with a small smile, which made Draco blink, he said, "Maybe, Mr. Malfoy, that is why you are here. To find that information."

Draco gawked at him for a minute before realizing his mouth was open. Of course! Of course of course of course! Why didn't you think of it before?!

"Of course," he whispered, voicing out his thoughts, but his peaking attitude decreased instantly, and he frowned, "It won't be in the library. Those books are valuable, if so... and I doubt the Headmaster would allow those kinds of books here of all places where kids are able to pick them up and read them."

Snape smiled, a true, wide smile, and his eyes gleamed. Softly, he said while leaning in and placing a bony finger on Draco's shoulder, he said, "You have to have hope, Draco. You have to have hope."

And Draco smiled, amidst his tears, and nodded. And with that, he stood up and shook the Potion Master's hand, his friend's hand, his advisor, and he left with a small smile and his sleeping draughts, walking to his own private quarters.

----------

Is this my room? Draco thought to himself as he stepped in the Head Boy's room. Thankful, for once, that he had worked his ass off in school enough to be given this position with this privilege; he looked around the small room, and smiled absently. Glad to see his trunk already at the side of his room and a small fire in the small fireplace, with a desk to the side of his bed, he felt he could get used at this small arrangement.

He looked to the side and saw a door that led towards the bathroom before he looked to the small fire. Walking over to it, he watched as it cackled at him and smiled absently, suddenly feeling like something heavy had risen out of him and made him free again.

Sighing, and looking at his watch, he kicked off his shoes like he had done so many times before and climbed into bed, not even bothering to change. Leaning over to the bedside table where he left his sleeping draughts, he took the stopper out of one of the test tubes, and took a large sip out of one of the test tubes, swallowing it and cringing at the familiar taste of the potion.

Sighing again, he reclined back and lay down properly on his new bed, and soon enough, the purpose of the potion took its effect, taking him into a dreamless sleep.

----------

"Mm, Draco?" Harry asked sleepily, entwining his legs with Draco's, tucking his head under the blonde man's. Draco inhaled the familiar smell of the rain that washed through his nostrils, only to bury his face completely in Harry's hair, kissing his head.

"Mmm?" Draco replied just as sleepily, curling up his legs with Harry's, feeling Harry's arms go around his waist. Harry didn't answer for a while, but when he did, it was nothing more than a whisper against Draco's collarbone, and Draco had to shift on the bed to hear what Harry had said. Quietly, Draco asked, "What?"

"I said I want to marry you, be yours forever," Harry sighed into his neck and pulled him closer, clutching Draco to him. "Marry me, Draco?" Harry tilted his head and looked up into the pale features, and he was rewarded with seeing Draco's eyes sparkle silver - and Harry knew his answer even before Draco spoke the word, "Yes."

Every day I'm loving you more and more
Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings
Telling me to give you everything
Seasons may change, winter to spring
But I love you until the end of time