And So Life Goes On...

Chapter Nine

Caught in Between

He looks like a mess. His hair, as always, resembles a bird's nest. There is no helping it, he supposes with a sigh. Not like he has the time. As it is, he is already running late. He should have left his flat ten minutes ago, but he still isn't sure about the outfit he has on. But he really has no idea why he is anxious. It's not like he needs to impress Draco, but maybe he wants to?

Harry knocks his head against the wall and winces as he hits it harder than he intended to. If he doesn't leave now, he won't catch the train in time and will be late meeting Draco at the restaurant. He really ought to leave right now, right this second... but--he takes another look at himself in the mirror--do his green shirt and black slacks look good? He frowns, not sure, though he is pretty certain it doesn't look bad.

"I might as well go," he tells the mirror and himself. "I really should leave now."

And he does.

-

"You're nervous," Becky stated, her voice getting that curious edge to it. "Why is that? Going out tonight?"

Harry snapped his head toward her and stared at her warily, trying not to twitch or tremble or do anything that would confirm her suspicions. He really didn't need his boss to know about his personal life. The fact she knew as much as she did was embarrassing enough. "Why do you ask?" he inquired nonchalantly.

"You answered my question with a question," she remarked, smiling playfully. "Which means that I can assume the answer for myself! So who's the lucky lad, Harry? Hmm? Who is it that you're going to--"

He clapped his hand over her mouth and gave her his highly distressed look. However, like previous times, it didn't make much of an impression on her. It was like she saw his hand but decided to ignore it. If he were someone else, he thought, he would have snapped. Actually he was someone else. He bit his tongue. Who the hell was he? And where was his life going?

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, snatching his hand back immediately after her teeth had given it a nice indention. "You need a mouth restraint!"

She laughed and poked him hard in the stomach. "And you need to start answering my questions!"

He shrugged carelessly and noticed as he glanced around that the kids that were left were staring at them. "If you must know, yes."

She grinned. "I knew it."

He rolled his eyes. "Then why did you ask?"

"So I can ask you this: who are you going on a date with?"

-

Harry collapses on a seat in the train, double-checking his watch to make sure that the time is really what it says it is: 7:30. He can't believe that he spent more than an hour getting cleaned up and changed for the dinner. He is not that kind of person, he muses, so it's a bit funny. Why he's going all out is confusing too. It's not like Draco is anything more than a friend...

Or is he?

Didn't Draco say he only wanted to be friends? But when Harry really thinks about the way that Draco held him, pressing against him like he did, it's hard to think that's the only thing that Draco wants. Harry blushes and wonders if this whole nervous frenzy he is in means anything. What he wouldn't give to be able to talk to Hermione--but that's out of the question and how can he trust her after what she did? And it's not like Hermione would approve of Draco--Draco was his enemy. So he cannot turn to Hermione, and he definitely cannot turn to Severus.

The only option is himself. Is there something else to the dinner? Is this... as Becky had said... a date?

-

"Why are you going out with a boy!" Teddy accused. "My uncle says that's unnatural and wrong!"

Harry stared at the boy with bewilderment and chagrin. He should have made Becky keep her voice down, though she had already been pretty quiet. He knew homosexuality wasn't easily accepted, and he should have been more careful. When had Teddy turned into such a good eavesdropper? Harry frowned and wondered if Teddy did this a lot at home, making himself scarce, and then listening in on the conversation. Was that why the boy knew so much about life? About reality?

"I...uh, Teddy--"

"My uncle says people like you are freaks!" he cried, his eyes watering. Harry instinctively flinched at the word and shook his head hard. The word reminded him of something, a man with fat fists that used to shake them at him and call him: freak! "Freaks, freaks, freaks," Teddy moaned and covered his face with his hands. "Am I like you then?"

Harry had no idea how to answer that. What was right and what was wrong? And was this man calling him freak really the uncle that Severus had told him about? Vernon Dursley? If his uncle was like Teddy's--he looked at the boy in sadness and sympathy--no wonder he had instinctively felt a connection between him and Teddy.

"You are not a freak," Harry whispered, opening his arms which Remus used to do for him for Teddy. Severus had told him this, told him everything about the last five years. According to his grudging admission, Remus had been his only real, decent parental figure. Oh Remus, Harry cries intuitively, where are you when I need you? "Come here, Teddy."

The boy lifted up his tear-stained face and hesitantly moved toward him before stopping. "Touching me won't make you a freak," Harry remarked reassuringly, continuing to hold out his arms. "And doesn't it feel good when I hold you like a father does for a child?"

Teddy's lips trembled and then he nodded. "Yesss."

Harry crooked his finger and Teddy dove into his arms. "Everything will be all right, Teddy," he murmured, stroking the boy's hair. "And you are not a freak. Don't listen to your uncle. I know it's hard, and it took me a while to stop listening to my own."

Teddy rubbed his cheek against Harry's neck. "You had an uncle like mine?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

-

"You're late." Draco points at his watch and stands up. "Should I be offended?"

Harry blushes and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I uh--" No, he is not going to tell Draco that. Harry smiles sheepishly and grabs the back of his chair only to have Draco's hand stop him.

"Allow me," Draco murmurs, pulling the chair out and gesturing for Harry to take a seat. "I was the one that invited you here--didn't I? You are my guest, so I must play the host."

Harry bites his lips and nods, taking the offered seat. He fidgets with his feet underneath the table while Draco resumes his place at the opposite end. "Err...," he mumbles, feeling awkward and gauche, "this place is nice."

Draco smiles and flags down a waiter. "I think this place is more than nice."

"Oh it is!" Harry flushes even more. "I... god I'm making a fool of myself, aren't I?"

Draco laughs and inclines his head in affirmation. "It's not without its charms though."

Why would such a beautiful man think that he is cute? But then Draco is entitled to his opinion, and he is probably only being polite. Harry has seen Draco's mansion, and he knows that the man comes from an upper-class background. His elegant manners have already been demonstrated and the compliment is probably only a necessary extension.

"You like me making a fool of myself."

Draco shrugs and turns his attention to the waiter that has arrived. "We would like to start dinner now."

"Yes, sir," the waiter says. "Right away."

Returning his attention to Harry, Draco taps the wine bottle. "Would you like some Vermouth?"

"Erm, I guess so. All right."

Draco raises an eyebrow and before he tips the bottle over the two glasses, he remarks, "You've never drunk wine have you?"

"Uh no," Harry admits, using his hand to indicate their surroundings. "I've never been to a restaurant like this either."

Draco blinks once and pours a generous amount of wine into each glass. He slides one over to Harry and says, "Well then, you have certainly been deprived. I was going to toast to something else, but I guess this will do just as well. To new joys and loves." He lifts his glass and waits for Harry to do the same.

Harry doesn't quite know how to respond to that toast. Looking carefully into Draco's eyes, Harry sees a dizzying intensity in them--smoldering and heated. If he is less than careful, he might get scorched. But would he really mind? Yes, in regards to Severus, and no, in regards to everything else.

Draco is the one person that hasn't betrayed him. But is he ready to take the next step? There is challenge as well as an emotion. Harry isn't sure, but he can acknowledge the toast and he echoes: "To new joys and loves."

-

"Tell me about Draco," Harry demanded, looking Severus straight in the eye without flinching or hesitating. He needed to know whatever Severus might tell him, even if it would be harsher and harder than any other truth. "Everything, please."

Severus pursed his lips together for a brief moment and then raised a challenging eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to know everything?"

"I'm sure."

"Knowing everything can lead to unpleasant things," Severus murmured. There was an edge to his voice that Harry knew was supposed to goad him on. Why he just knew things about this enigmatic man should confuse him--but he accepted it--and so it didn't. "Very unpleasant."

"It's already happened," Harry muttered. "I might as well learn it so Draco doesn't get the upper hand because he thinks I don't know."

Severus inclined his head. "From what you've told me that Draco has informed you of so far, you know you two are enemies. And Draco is correct, I suppose, that because of Weasley you two were never able to get close. But be aware that if Draco had sought your friendship, he would have gained it. There is this drive in Malfoy to get what he wants, and he didn't want you as a friend as much as an enemy. Unlike Weasley, he would not have liked to stay in your shadow. Even Weasley didn't enjoy it, and I'm not too surprised that your red-headed friend was quick to agree to keep your memories from you.

"If you couldn't remember who you were, then you'd no longer hold your fame and wealth over him. And while Weasley is celebrated in the Wizarding World as a hero, you--Harry, are nothing but a ghost, a shadow and a secret that only exists to those who know the truth. Of course, people know you're alive, but with the years that have gone by, they have forgotten you because the truth was never really publicized. No one is certain that you were the one that killed Voldemort. Only a Death Eater would know that. And didn't you say that Draco said you defeated the Dark Lord? How would he know that, Harry, unless he was one? Unless he was like me?"

Harry opened his mouth, trying to find his voice, and yet nothing came out.

"Did he tell you that Harry? Did he tell you he was a Death Eater? You knew his father, Lucius, wanted you dead. But did you know that Draco wanted you dead as well? That he was one of those awful, horrible murderers that bathed the Wizarding World in blood? Did you? Did you know?"

Harry shook his head and buried his head in his hands. "Then why," he croaked, "is Draco not in jail?"

"In Azkaban you mean?" Severus murmured. "Which is the Wizarding equivalent to hell on Earth, and to which only the most dangerous of prisoners go?"

Harry nodded and bit his lip. "Yes."

"He somehow didn't have a Dark Mark on him," Severus snapped, pulling his sleeve and showing the hideous skull that decorated his upper arm. "This used to be darker, but it has faded since you killed Voldemort. But somehow, even though Draco was there, he hadn't gotten marked yet. No doubt, he would have been if not for you and he would have been a good little Death Eater, just like his father. It's in his blood, darkness and evil... do you want that?"

Harry jerked his eyes up to stare into Severus'. "What about you then?"

"I have never said I was a good person, but I at least worked for good."

Harry looked away. "But Draco has never lied... to me."

"And he has never saved your life either."

-

"Thank you for asking me to dinner."

Draco smiles and dabs his mouth with the corner of his napkin. "It was my pleasure."

"And thank you for telling me the truth," Harry remarks, staring across the table into Draco's eyes, "which my friends have kept from me for so long."

Draco inclines his head and his smile picks up an added brightness. "I am glad that I could help, and that you trust me enough to believe what I said."

Harry shrugs and sighs. "I don't know what to believe anymore." And he didn't. Should he believe Severus? Or believe that Draco had been wholly truthful with the way things were between them? Especially when Severus has admitted to not liking Malfoy? Whom should he trust? His past lover or Draco? "I have no idea what to do either."

Draco leans forward and reaches out with his hand to brush his fingers against Harry's cheek. "What you should do is try to get your magic back. The only way you can prevent them from doing this to you again is to defend yourself against them with your own innate and powerful magic."

How did Draco know? "Why... why do you think they will do this again?"

"Because they did it once."

-

"When will my magic come back?" Harry demanded. "You've told me about my past. You've told me about Draco. But you haven't mentioned my magic. When will it come back? When? And how do I get it back?"

Severus traced a finger down Harry's jaw in a way that made Harry feel like he was being studied--as if Severus was trying to see something familiar, to touch who he had been and maybe still was. Severus' finger reached Harry's chin and he applied enough force to tilt Harry's face up.

"You haven't been taking the medicine for a few days now," Severus remarked. "But it'll take a while for it to leave your system. When it's gone, your magic will slowly start coming back. Of course, it'll be uncontrollable for a while, as if you were a wizard child and you will likely have spurts of accidental magic. Soon, I believe, you'll be able to wield a wand and start learning magic again. Even though you once knew it, practicing magic after going without it for a long time is not easy and you've been away from it for more than five years..."

"When will my memories come back?"

Severus' hand dropped from Harry's face. "Last time, as I've already told you, when your magic returned, it somehow snapped your memories back--reconnecting the part of your brain that was damaged. I believe if you were a less powerful wizard," he said, still staring intently, "you would be completely amnesiac. The force, the sheer power of the Avada Kedavra that Voldemort used on you snapped the nerves to your neocortex. You probably should be dead, and in a way I suppose the Killing Curse did what it was meant to do. It took away your life... your memories of your life, and thus who you are.

"It gave you a chance to be reborn as a mere shadow of yourself. You became a simple muggle with an ordinary life, though less ordinary than some. At least you have a sense of purpose in your life, from what little I've heard about you and the shelter you work at. It's better than what either of your two best friends are doing, wasting their lives behind a Ministry desk job doing paperwork until one day they are promoted when those above them retire or die." Severus paused and leaned forward, so close that Harry thought he might kiss him again. But no lips touched his.

"But your memories will return soon, probably after your magic, and then you will remember all that you've forgotten."

"All that you've told me?"

Severus shook his head. "No, not even I know everything about you."

-

"Invite me in." Harry can feel Draco leaning over his shoulder and sense his breath tickling his ear. "You know you want to."

But Harry isn't so sure of that. He still has no idea what Draco wants from him. In words, the blond says friendship. But his hands and eyes speak another language, of touch and of gaze. Neither one hints at something as easy and comfortable as friendship. Friends with benefits, perhaps, but nothing purely platonic.

"Open the door," Draco whispers. "Then ask me to come in." Harry shudders when Draco's hand covers his own. "It's easy," Draco says. "Then we can sit and talk more. You can ask me anything you want." Draco moves closer until his cheek is touching Harry's. "You know there is more that you still don't know. Much more that you still have to relearn. Like your magic, when it returns."

Harry puts the key in and twists it, hearing the bolt shift. He turns the knob and opens the door. He pushes it open and despite his misgivings he is going to invite Draco in because even as unsure as he is about everything... there are things he would like to ask, to compare to what he already knows. But when he is about to turn around to motion Draco in, he sees something which makes him blink to make sure he is not conjuring a nightmare.

"Severus," Harry mumbles, seeing the dark-haired and dark-eyed man lounging on his couch like Hermione often does, "what are you doing here?"

Severus lifts his head, stares briefly at him before shifting his harsh gaze to Draco, who places both of his hands on his hips. "I am here," Severus snaps, "because you failed to show up at my office tonight."

Harry has forgotten that it's been a bit of a tradition this week, showing up at Severus' office after working hours. Eating and drinking, listening and talking, finding and seeking. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but--"

"Why is he here?" Draco whispers to him so low that Harry can almost believe Severus won't hear. But something tells Harry that Severus can hear despite the low volume. Harry wonders if this is an assumption he makes because he had been told that Severus is a spy or because this is another feeling of a memory he has. He isn't sure; he doesn't know; and he hates it. "Why Harry?"

Harry swallows hard, his eyes staring at the floor rather than at Severus glaring at Draco. "Because he knows."

-

"You're asking me out," Harry stated, looking at Draco with confusion and uncertainty.

"Yes," Draco affirmed. "That is what, 'Would you like to go to dinner with me?' means."

"Are you always this sarcastic?" Harry snapped.

"Do you always sidestep the issue at hand?" Draco retorted. "And do you really need to think this long about a rather simple request?"

"Yes!" Harry cried, running his hand through his messy hair. Yes, he did need to think about this. This was a big deal, or was it? Maybe he was making it one when it didn't need to be. Harry fidgeted and started pacing. "I don't think friends ask each other out," he pointed out. "So why are you asking me?"

"Because I can," Draco said. "Because I want to and because I don't want to just be your friend."

"You don't?"

Draco threw back his head and laughed. "I know you felt what I felt earlier. Do you think that's what a friend feels for a friend?"

No. Of course not. Not unless they were in denial. But should he say yes? Harry stared at the ground, noting the boring beige color. And yet, he felt guilty. What of Severus? But then Severus was his past. What should he feel guilty for? It wasn't like this was a real date. It was just... going out and... eating. "All right," Harry agreed. "I'll go."

"Good," Draco murmured and held out his hand. "Will you take it this time?"

A smaller version of this very same hand once reached out in an offer of friendship, but this time it was of something more ambiguous. Last time, he had rejected it but this time he took it. The brief flash of offense no longer appeared. Instead there was only a smile.

-

"He knows? He isn't supposed to know!" Draco shouts, his eyes narrowing and his lips curling up in almost a snarl. It is actually a bit scary to see Draco looking so much... so much like whom? Harry closes his eyes to draw up the image of Draco, trying to think of whom Draco reminds him of, and another, older blond comes to mind. Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father.

Harry immediately steps away from Draco, almost cringing, and walks into his living room where Draco follows. Lucius Malfoy is the one that makes him shudder, makes him flinch. It isn't Draco--it can't be Draco because it's someone older in his mind, someone with darker eyes and a more powerful bearing. And yet this Draco with his narrow slits for eyes looks too much like his father for Harry's own comfort. But that's a good thing, isn't it? He's remembering something... finally.

"Draco Malfoy," Severus snaps, approaching both of them with his ground-eating strides, "I haven't seen you in years."

The glare--the formidable and intimidating glare is in place. It aims to cow people, and it succeeded. Harry jerks his face away from Severus' direction and stares anywhere but at him or Draco. Is this another memory? Or is just another instinctive feeling? Something he just knows?

"And it's a pity," Severus sneers, "that I have to see you now."

"What's more of a pity," Draco retorts, "is that we even have to see your ugly, greasy face again. Have you sufficiently disgusted Harry yet?"

Harry flickers his gaze toward Draco just when his eyes darken to the exact shade of his father's. Instead of making him step backwards like it did initially--he finds that the gaze isn't as terrifying as it once was. There is no true power behind Draco's gaze, much like there was no power behind Lucius'. After all, Harry knows the truth about Lucius even if Draco will never tell him.

"Why you little--"

"Insults Severus? How plebian of you."

Severus told him. High and mighty--proud Lucius--is locked away in Azkaban and has been there for the last twelve years. Rotting slowly, growing progressively madder until it became a question of when, not if, he would finally snap. Harry should be shuddering, should feel pity, and yet there is nothing but vindication and that makes him tremble. This is his darkness. This is the reason why his friends and Albus must have wanted to keep his past a secret.

Was he a monster?

Would he have become like Voldemort?

Eventually?

"Malfoy..."

"Formalities Severus, from my former Head of House? How dreadful of you," Draco murmurs and shrugs his shoulders. "But I know how you used to look at him in class when no one was looking, when he wasn't looking. So tell me, since he doesn't remember how much he hated you--are you using it for your advantage like you used to use the Slytherins in your house, you pedophile!"

"Then what are you then, Malfoy?" Severus hisses, stalking over to him until they are face-to-face. "Hmmm? An immature brat that must resort to name calling to feel the superiority you once did? But that wasn't really yours, was it? It was all your father's and without him you are nothing!"

"I know you want him!" Draco screams, shoving his face forward. "I can see it in your eyes. You're a sick, sick man Severus! And how long have you wanted to shove your cock into his arse? How long have you wanted to fuck him? Huh? How long!"

Severus' hand snakes out and grips Draco's chin in a bruising hold, tilting the blond's face up viciously. "Why do I need to want him," Severus whispers lowly, "when I had and have him?"

Draco's eyes widen in horror and he stumbles backwards, bumping into Harry. "You're his past lover." Draco whirls around and grabs Harry by the shoulders, shaking him hard. "How could you fuck someone as ugly and old as he is? Don't you have any respect for yourself? Any standards?"

This is all his fault, Harry thinks and moans, Draco and Severus screaming and insulting each other. If not for him... He clutches his head, feeling a black spot thumping in his forehead, and sinks to the ground. "No no no no no," he whimpers to himself, curling into a ball and rocking back and forth. "This is my fault."

Someone, he doesn't know who, crouches next to him and places a hand on his back. "Harry," Severus says, "this is not your fault."

"You stupid, stupid impertinent brat!" Severus screams. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You weren't supposed to add the claw of an eagle into the potion until it was simmering! And don't look at me like that, reproving me, it's all your idiotic fault!"

"You said it was, you said it was."

"Of course he did," Draco sneers, his voice sounding close but Harry isn't sure how close. "He hates you, and whatever pretty words he might have used to get into your trousers--you should remember that he has and always will see your father, the man he loathed more than Voldemort, whenever he sees your face. Don't you understand Harry? Snape was using you, and--"

"Enough!" Severus roars and Harry can imagine his dark eyes narrowing into a fearsome glare enough to cow even 7^th years to their knees. "Malfoy has no idea what he is talking about, and even if he did know--do you think he would tell you the truth when he obviously wants to be the one fucking you?"

Harry jerks his face up and would have fallen if he wasn't already on his bottom. In front of him, Draco stares to the right of his face and when Harry turns, he sees Severus returning the look. If their words earlier hadn't been bad enough, this contest of eyes, of punishing gaze is worse. And to add the words again...

"How--"

"How did I know?" Severus snaps, his lips curling up into a vicious smirk. "How could I not know? You rather blatantly stated I have a thing for young boys, and you Draco Malfoy have a thing for power and prestige, and who in this world has the greatest power and prestige that is alive? Why Harry Potter of course. And I will tell you this, Malfoy, you will not have him. I will kill you before I let you touch what is mine."

"Do you love me?" Harry asks, his green eyes staring up at Severus'. "Do you?"

"Love is highly overrated," Severus scoffs, reaching with his hand to cup Harry's face. He bends his head down and kisses Harry on the lips, gently at first then adding more pressure and searing heat. "Compatibility is far more important."

"You don't love me," Harry states softly, his eyes flickering to the harsh lines of Severus' face. "So why do you care?"