Nied is Not Enough

Chapter 17

Harry finished grooming and took a look at himself in the mirror. He had forgone the dress robes for the evening, deciding on charcoal dress slacks and a royal blue fitted shirt instead. His cleanly shaven face was framed with wavy cords of dark hair. He decided it was amazing what a little scrubbing could do. He felt a little better after the shower and he certainly looked better. Harry took off his glasses and put in contacts, lending to a more vibrant and almost chilling green. He grabbed his cloak from the armoire and headed to the staff meeting.

The professors, as much as the students, enjoyed these special occasions. The meeting room was buzzing with excited energy as Harry entered. He slipped, almost unnoticed, around most of the professors and made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs near a blue fire.

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen," Minerva clinked her large ring on the side of a glass. The buzz quickly died and everyone turned in her direction.

"The purpose of this meeting is to give you your assignments for the evening. Your schedules are on the table if you all would be so kind as to pick them up on your way out. These students are not to sneak off anywhere, nor are they to spike the punch. Please keep your eyes out for any vile behavior and put an end to it immediately."

Harry chuckled to himself as he saw, behind the Deputy Headmistress, the Headmaster rolling his eyes at her strictness. The Headmaster had been known in the past to enjoy the spiked punch, sometimes a little too much. As for the vileness, as Minerva so liked to call it, Dumbledore usually let it slide to a certain point. Kids are kids and they know the rules of the school.

As McGonagall was finishing her speech, Harry felt eyes boring into the side of his head. He turned in the direction of the stare, and found Hermione sitting in a chair across the room from him with Ron standing directly behind her. Both were staring at him with bizarre grins. Ron had his hands on Hermione's shoulders and she had hold of one of his hands.

Harry thought maybe he had something stuck on his face, maybe missed a spot shaving. The staring was beginning to make him uncomfortable and he unconsciously felt the tip of his nose, rubbed his hand over his face and then through his hair.

They were still staring. And grinning.

"What?" Harry almost shouted across the room. Minerva stopped mid-sentence to stare, as did everyone in the staff room. He could feel his face becoming redder and instead of sinking lower into his chair, he cleared his throat and asked, "I'm sorry, Minerva, but I didn't catch that last part. Would you mind repeating that? Please?"

He looked at Ron and Hermione from the corner of his eye and smiled at the Deputy Headmistress. Ron and Hermione were trying their hardest to stifle their chuckles.

"What I said, Professor Potter, is that the meeting is dismissed. Please pick up your assignments on the table before leaving." She gave him an odd look before stepping toward the Headmaster, who was stifling his own chuckle.

Harry grabbed his assignment from the table and slipped out the door before Ron and Hermione could cause any more unwanted attention. Safely in the darkened hall, Harry opened his folder. "Lumos."

Prof. Harry Potter

8:00: Account for all your house students

8:30: Chaperone ball

9:15: Outside patrol (pay special attention to clumps of bushes around lake)

10:00: Chaperone ball

12:00: Severus will accompany students back to Dungeons. You are to patrol and catch any stragglers and do with them what you will.

Please remember that vileness will not be tolerated.

Happy Christmas. Enjoy your holidays.

M.M.

Harry headed toward the Dungeons to gather his students. As the Dungeon door opened, he could hear their buzz. Harry found that the most amusing thing about Slytherin students is that no matter how they portray themselves to the other students, teachers and the world in general, they are still just kids: as goofy as the day is long. Some of the sixth years were aiming charms at the fourth years, seeing as how it was their first Yule Ball. Most of the seventh years stood around, feigning disinterest. Harry knew better. They were as excited as the rest of them.

He stepped in to center of the room and whispered "sonorous" to himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen..." his voice shook the stone walls. Once he had their attention, he resumed his normal voice.

"I'm sure you are all aware of the regulations of this school as well as the proper behavior for the ball. I'm not going to remind you nor am I going to threaten you. You will represent this house well tonight."

During Harry's little speech, the students were captivated: not only were their co-head of house out of his rooms, he was speaking to them and looking quite a different man than they had seen the past few weeks. Some of the older girls had moved away from their dates and closer to Harry. One or two of the older boys had done the same.

"Are there any questions?"

Harry looked around at the sea of transfixed faces. He suddenly felt again as he did during the staff meeting. He nonchalantly rubbed the tip of his nose and felt his face again. Deciding there was nothing wrong with himself, he continued, "I hope you all have a nice time this evening and a very restful holiday. Happy Christmas to you all."

With that, he turned and held the Dungeon entrance open allowing the students to exit. As they passed, the students either looked at him confusedly or dreamily. He simply nodded to them as they passed, commenting here or there about having a nice time or how nice everyone looked.

Severus stood from leaning against a work desk across the room as the students exited. He approached Harry in much the way Ron and Hermione had looked at him: with interest and amusement.

"Is this such an occasion, Mr. Potter, that you would create such a drastic change in your appearance?" He smirked as he moved around in front of Harry in such a way that made Harry feel as though he was being checked out.

"Hot date? Trying to impress someone?" He continued smirking.

Harry shifted his stance a bit. "You're looking quite lovely yourself, Severus." And actually, Harry wasn't being dishonest. Snape had cleaned up quite a bit since becoming the Potions Minister. His hair was unusually clean, streaked with silver and tied back away from his face. He was wearing a thigh-length black coat with a Nehru collar and black slacks. Age was a definite complement to him. His attitude, however, hadn't changed a whole lot. Harry nearly outwardly shuddered as he thought about the almost attractiveness of his old professor.

"Shall we, then? You can be my date." Harry winked at Snape, causing the older man to twist his features in mock disgust.

"I'd rather scrub a troll's...never mind. Let's just go."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

As they walked to the Great Hall, Harry kept thinking about how different he felt since the shower and, well, since the shower. He felt like he had let something go with the water. He had lived without Draco before; he could certainly do it again. He might even be able to enjoy life a little bit this time. Hermione did point out a while ago that if he tried and things didn't work out, at least he tried.

The hall looked much the same as it did at dinner with the exception of the students' dress. They were all standing in little groups around the perimeter; some looking around the room at the other students, some completely involved in their own discussions. Some band was performing on the magicked stage, putting out some pretty decent music, Harry noted. Minerva stood near the stage with an eagle's eye, not wanting any students to get away with anything. Dumbledore was bobbing his head to the music as he leaned against his staff. He nodded to Harry and Severus as they entered.

Standing directly behind the punch table were Ron and Hermione. Harry stepped into the shadows a bit so as to not be seen by those two. He watched with much amusement the transpiring events. Mitch Evans and Ross White were talking to Hermione and Ron in turn. Harry couldn't hear the conversation, but watched anyway. Mitch bowed to Hermione and turned on his heel to leave. He stepped a few feet from her and tripped over his own feet, rolling across the floor. Both Ron and Hermione rushed to his aid. In the meantime, Ross looked over his shoulder and started to pour something from a very small cask into the punch. Harry held his hand in the air and the cask flew from Ross's grip, through the shadows and into Harry's open palm. As he caught it, a few drops landed on his wrist. Ross looked around incredulously but couldn't seem to find where the cask had gone. Harry flipped the lid closed and placed the cask in his pocket. Ron and Hermione had helped Mitch off the floor and he looked over to Ross, who had wandered away from the table. Mitch dusted himself off and bowed again to Hermione before turning to find Ross.

Harry decided that Mitch and Ross were more like Fred and George than he had originally thought. He must keep a closer watch on those two. Gryffindors these days...

The dance floor slowly began to fill with students as the band played a more popular song. Harry remained in the shadows near the door, watching the students until about 9:10. He flung his cloak around his neck and headed toward the lake for his second duty.

The December air was crystalline in his lungs and a fresh veil of snow swathed the grounds. The clouds had dissipated leaving a perfectly lustrous sky. With each breath, Harry's lungs became a little clearer as did his thoughts. His boots crunched the snow, leaving a trail of prints behind him. Rather than walk to each clump of bushes, he did a quick scan and found no heat radiating or magic emanating from them. It was far too cold for any students to stay outside for long anyway.

Harry stood at the shoreline of the lake for a few moments then squatted down to brush some snow away from the stones. He picked a few up and relished the iciness of the stones in his hot palm.

"This is for you, Draco." He sent one of the stones skipping across the thin layer of ice on the surface of the lake. It slid nearly to the center of the lake before finding a hole and dropping into the icy black water.

"I know you won't hear me but I need to say some things to you right now. I don't understand why you do what you do. How could you not tell me that Morgan was your daughter? You must have known...it couldn't have been a surprise. I met her mother, you know. At the train station before school started. She told Morgan she looked just like her father. I should have known then. The two of you..."

Harry shook his head in disbelief that he was speaking to the emptiness of the night.

"Stupid," he mumbled.

"I don't care if it is stupid," he answered himself. "I need to get this out. I trusted you Draco. Do you have any idea how difficult that is for me to do? I'm trained to not trust anyone. But, you already knew that, of course. I'm sick of not feeling. Until you came along, I hadn't felt anything for, well, since I left Hogwarts the first time. The thing is, I, GODS I hate you! But I can't! it doesn't seem to matter that you walked out of here and away from me without saying a word and no matter how hard I try to despise you and remove you from myself, I can't fucking do it! I want to wake up to you every morning. I want to fight with you about Quidditch. I want to wrap myself around you and breathe you...you...you fucking Bastard!"

He threw the remaining rocks onto the ice, cracking the surface. He bent down and picked up two more handfuls and threw them at the ice all the while growling and grunting his anger. He kicked at the snow and the rocks on the shore. His breaths shortened as his flailing slowed, turned into shuddering sobs. "I hate you..." he whispered.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and gained complete control over himself. He decided that these outbursts did him some good and was quite glad that no one ever witnessed them. After a few deep breaths, he turned and headed back toward the castle for his third duty. It was a few minutes early, but no one was outside anyway.

For the temperature being as low as it was, Harry did not feel chilled. The walk back to the castle warmed him even more. So much, in fact, when he made it inside the school, he was burning up. He tore at his cloak, trying to remove the blasted thing. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and unbuttoned it a few. On his right wrist were two dark red marks from where the liquid from the flask splashed onto him. He needed to find Snape.

The hall was writhing with students, all of whom looked almost as uncomfortably warm as Harry. Dress robes were shorn, revealing unbuttoned shirts and rolled up sleeves on the boys. Several of the girls had taken to holding their dresses above their knees and had kicked off their shoes. The Headmaster was still bobbing his head and grinning at the dancing students. Minerva was nowhere to be seen, which at this point was probably a good thing. Harry found Severus in the shadows near the back of the hall.

"Severus, I need some help. I need to determine what kind of potion this is." He presented the flask.

Snape considered Harry through squinted eyes. He closed his fingers around the cask, turned and exited through the small door in the back of the hall with Harry on his heels. His black shoes clicked on the stone floor and he stopped abruptly under a sconce.

"Symptoms?" He turned to Harry.

"Erm, I'm dying of heat." He was unbuttoning another button on his shirt.

"Come now, Potter. It's ten degrees outside. Did this touch you?"

Harry nodded and presented his right wrist to the Potions Minister. The red marks had spread to cover most of his forearm. Snape took Harry's forearm and brought it closer to his eyes.

"When did this happen?"

"About an hour ago, I guess." The feeling of Snape's fingers on his arm was quite cooling and welcome.

"Harry, have you done anything else in the past hour that is uncharacteristic? Not that anything is uncharacteristic for the likes of you..."

Snape's voice seemed sultry even amidst the condescension. Harry pulled his hand back to himself. "Well, I did get a little emotional by the lake and was talking to myself. Does that count?" His shirt was completely unbuttoned by now and the sleeves were pushed up to his biceps.

"And you got this from where?" Snape held the flask up in the air.

Harry was running his hands up and down his chest. "A couple of students were attempting to pour it into the punch and I confiscated it." What am I doing?

Snape opened the flask and sniffed the contents. He squatted down and conjured a small cup of punch into which he allowed a few drops to fall from the flask. The red punch turned a fizzy dark brown and then back into red. Harry had begun chewing on his finger as he watched Severus contemplate the potion.

"It seems we have a couple of very proficient potions students in our midst." He stood up and faced Harry who had let his shirt slide over his shoulder revealing more of his chest.

"This is a sensation potion. They aren't illegal, but are rarely used anymore. It seems that this particular one is a combination of Damiana, cinnamon and ashwagandha."

Harry stared perplexedly at the man while running his hands over his thighs.

"Right, I forgot, you are totally inept at potions. What it means, Harry, is that a couple of our students wanted everyone to get really warm, promiscuous and have heightened emotions. It seems to have worked on you except for the fact that it is to be taken internally because the cinnamon will cause a rash." He paid absolutely no attention to Harry's wiles.

"Thank Merlin." Harry let his shirt slide all the way off and lay in a heap behind him. "I thought something was really wrong with me." His hands found his own backside and began rubbing it.

Snape simply raised his eyebrow and cleared his throat. "It will wear off in about thirty minutes. I suggest you go to the potions classroom and wash your arm, cover it with aloe and return to your duties."

Harry was now leaning against the wall with one foot propped up behind him. "Why isn't it affecting you?" He tweaked one of his nipples.

"I refuse to drink anything at one of these ridiculous balls. You got the concentrated version. Those kids probably don't even realize anything is affecting them." He bent down and retrieved Harry's shirt from the floor. He held it up for Harry to put on. "Give me their names and I will be sure to educate them properly with detentions."

Harry slunk away from the wall and seductively sidled up to the old Potions Master. "Evans and White. But I want to be educated properly, too." GAH!

Snape hmphed. "You will never understand the intricacies of potion making."

"I guess I just have a thing for arrogant bastards." WHAT AM I SAYING? "You know, Sevvy..."

"Silencio. Before you say something you really regret."

Snape pulled the shirt up over Harry's arms and buttoned it. "You are foolish and under the influence and in love with Draco. I will not mention this outlandish behavior to anyone. You know, Potter, as much as I can't stand you, you really are amusing sometimes. Go." He actually smiled at his former student before pushing him down the hall. "Don't let anyone see you behaving this way. Then again, they might fire you and my house will be rid of the Gryffindor riff-raff it has been suffering with thus far."

Harry snuck through the entry hall and toward the dungeon corridor. On the way, he chuckled at the thought of actually getting into more troubling situations as a professor than as a student. There was the time during sixth year when Seamus had changed the pumpkin juice into vodka at dinner, but they had all gotten around that one by blaming Slytherin House. Those were the days: when he still hated Draco, Ron and Hermione weren't gushing all over each other, and his biggest worry, aside from Voldemort, was passing his NEWTs.

Voldemort. That was so long ago. It had been nearly fourteen years since the end of the war and Harry couldn't let go of that skull. It should have gone to the ministry as evidence but he just couldn't bear to separate from it. It was comforting, as strangely morbid as it seemed. The funny thing was that he had almost forgotten about it since his attachment to Draco flourished. Draco never said a word about it while in Harry's rooms or subconscious. It seemed to Harry that that scaly, creepy specter of a barely living thing had been the cause of so much in Harry's life. Then again, he wasn't so much the cause as the catalyst for what was fated to happen. His parents were killed in Voldemort's attempt to kill Harry. Instead, the prophecy and his mother's love kept him alive. But Draco, on the other hand...were he and Harry fated to be together or was it just circumstance that led them to their bond? If it were circumstance, it could have not ever happened.

Draco could have made a split-second decision and changed the entire outcome of the war. There would be no Harry. There would be no bond between the two men. Morgan would not exist because Draco would not have gone to the island and met her mother. Harry would still be an auror waiting for his sabbatical to end and return to his job as miserable as he was before. Fate or not, it was reality.

The chill of the dungeons was welcoming as Harry pushed open the door to the potions classroom. The sickeningly sweet smell of potions ingredients drifted through the open door and Harry inhaled deeply, remembering earlier in the year when he would visit Draco in this room. He made his way to the sink and began washing his forearm under the rush of icy water.

"I thought I might find you here."

Harry spun in the direction of the voice, flinging water into the dark classroom. He couldn't see the person speaking but he knew the presence.

"I don't want to see you right now. Or really ever again." Harry was trying to keep his voice from faltering.

Draco stepped into the small amount of light emanating from a wall sconce. He looked tired, Harry noted. His eyes were darkened and serious and his hair hung in loose white tendrils over his forehead.

"There's something I need to tell you, Harry."

Stiffening at every word, Harry focused on controlling his building rage. Or frustration or whatever this quickly building feeling was. It came from the pit of his stomach, this numbness mixed with fury and delicious relief, and spread through his chest and into his limbs.

"I don't think you understand. I want nothing to do with you." Harry's own words stabbed at him: he knew he was lying. He wanted nothing more than to hurt the man in front of him. Hurt him and love him.

"I can understand your position right now..."

Harry cut him off before he could finish. "I don't think you understand anything, Draco. Do you have any idea what this has been like? Any idea at all?"

Draco stepped forward. His eyes were pleading. "Please let me explain..."

"Just get away from me." Harry felt as though something were stuck in his throat as these words wrenched themselves from his dry mouth.

Draco nodded, let his head fall in defeat, and turned to leave the classroom. Just before the doorway, he stopped and turned around. Without looking at Harry, he stepped to an empty potions table near the back. Harry had a difficult time seeing what Draco was doing, but in the near dark, he saw Draco place something gleaming white on the corner of the table and slip through the open door.

Resignedly, Harry turned off the water which had been hissing against the porcelain of the sink. He ran his wet hands through his hair and over his face. He cursed the day he ever accepted this position at Hogwarts. He cursed at himself for wanting nothing more than to run after the man who had just possibly walked out of his life forever.

He walked toward the door, focusing on the back table. Sliding his fingertips along the old dry tabletop, Harry finally let his hand rest on the top of a skull. Voldemort's skull. How he had missed the feel of raw bone under his fingertips. How he had missed the smiling evil that had so long adorned his mantle. He ran his palm over the stark forehead, curling his fingertips into the vacant eye sockets.

He lifted it, placing his other hand under the desolate jawbone, and held it up to look squarely at it.

"At least I was able to kill you. Strange that I still keep you close."

After scrutinizing the unanswering bones, he muttered a spell and the skull shrank in his palm. He placed it in his pocket and left the classroom to return to his duties.

As he reached the entry hall, the chatter of the students and the pounding of the band echoed from the Great Hall. He glanced around the entry hall for any sign of the blond. There was nothing. The hall mocked his footsteps as he made his way to the doors of the Great Hall. The door was flung open from the inside and Hermione ran smack into Harry's chest. She was breathing rapidly and trying to push past Harry, not even realizing who she had run into.

"Excuse me, I need to...oh, Harry, I was just coming to find you." Breathlessly, she looked up into his stern face. "Draco was here and he handed the Headmaster his resignation."

More quickly than he could breathe, the thought of losing Draco to the world overcame him. He was at once nauseated and terrified, dizzy and wild. It had almost happened and he had almost let it.

He took her by the shoulders and looked squarely into her face. "Where did he go, Hermione? Which direction?"

She pointed to the great doors leading to Hogwarts' grounds and Harry let go of her forcefully and bolted toward the door. Once outside, he ran fiercely up the path, crunching the fresh snow beneath his boots. His lungs were freezing in the winter night and his eyes watered from the stinging cold. Almost at the gates of the grounds was a flash of silver blond hair. Harry had to reach Draco before he stepped through the gates or he would lose him completely.

"DRACO!" Harry screamed, splitting the air. He was so close but the blond walked on without looking back. Harry screamed again, this time making Draco's footsteps falter slightly, slowing him for a moment. Harry's lungs burned as he ran...the man near the gates getting closer and closer.

Just as Draco stepped through the gates and into the unprotected world, Harry flung himself forward, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist. Nearly defeated and breathless, Harry closed his eyes just before he heard a pop. He and Draco became the same being. They were energy, light, cells, and raw magic. Harry could feel Draco pulsing through his veins.

When Harry felt solid ground beneath him, he realized that he must have apparated with Draco. He was still wrapped around the man's waist as they lay tangled on the hard ground. Draco pulled himself away and stood up. He began walking leaving Harry lying in confusion on the ground. Wherever they were, it was quite dark. Harry muttered a night vision charm, which allowed him to see a bit better. Off to their left, giant waves were colliding violently with enormous, dark gray rocks. The air smelled of kelp and salty fish.

Harry stood and followed Draco into the night. To their right, Harry noticed the landscape dotted with small pale houses among thousands of feet of low, criss-crossing stone walls. Harry's mind was frantic with thought. He wanted so badly to tackle the man in front of him; tackle him to the ground and make love to him then beat him wildly. The two men walked in silence along a gravel road for several minutes before finally reaching one of the small cottages.

Draco said nothing to Harry as they walked, but as they reached the cottage, Draco turned to Harry and held his hand out to him. "Give me your hand, Harry. I have to do this and I am so sorry it has to be this way."

Harry looked at the damp cheeks of the blond and searched his eyes for any kind of answer. He tried their bond communication, but there was nothing; Draco had shut himself off completely. As their hands met, Harry felt something hard drop into his palm. He had only a moment to look down as Draco's hand retreated from his own, leaving a heartstone in its stead.

It began glowing and spinning madly in his hand. Light burst forth from it, temporarily blinding him. When he regained his vision, he saw Draco's paled features through the swirling colored light and felt Draco's hand lightly touch the scar on his forehead. Harry was suddenly thrust into Draco's most deeply hidden memories.

Harry couldn't help but let his eyes roll back into his head as he was filled with suffering and loneliness from Draco. He felt constant struggle to end his life and press forward with it. He felt hope, desperation, and abandonment. He felt absolute joy and utter depression. Images of the woman from Draco's picture flew in and out of his mind; her laughing and running along a white beach, holding a newborn child in her arms, stirring a cauldron over an open fire. He felt as though these memories were his, these images were his, these tremendous flooding emotions were his.

Suddenly, everything in Draco's memories stilled and Harry found himself inside the cottage. He glanced around and noticed a much younger and quite different looking Draco sitting at a large dining table. Potions ingredients seemed to be everywhere: in bottles and jars along high shelves and in open-front cupboards. Several small cauldrons lined the center of a large wooden table, each bubbling with a different colored liquid. The younger Draco sat with his nose in a large crumbling book, scribbling on a parchment next to him.

Harry walked up behind him and looked over his shoulder. Inside the book were sketches of plants Harry had never seen before and lists of ingredients for sight potions. Suddenly, the younger Draco stood and stirred one of the cauldrons. He ladled a small bit of the coral liquid into a small jar and shook it.

Harry had seen Draco work before. He remembered their school days at Hogwarts, glaring toward the front of the potions classroom at his nemesis. Draco always concentrated while working on potions; his eyes and hands steady as he measured and chopped ingredients. Something about the way he was working now, in this memory, reminded Harry of those old days when he hated the blond. He chuckled at his adolescence.

He continued watching Draco work. His usually perfect hair was long and haphazardly tied at the back of his neck. He was wearing a dark gray wool jumper of which the sleeves were coming unraveled at the cuffs. His pants looked old and worn, his bootlaces broken and tied in odd places. The younger Draco pushed a few stray hunks of hair away from his eyes with the back of his hand and continued scribbling on the parchment.

Harry looked around the inside of the cottage and was quite surprised. Draco must have done an expanding spell to make the place more comfortable. The furnishings were simple but obviously well made. Several books lay open around the large room. Some were on the counter in the kitchen, some on the table in front of the fireplace. A few rolls of parchment were tossed carelessly about. Harry was sure it was not how a Malfoy was used to living. It was, however, decent enough.

He found a staircase and began climbing. From the outside, it seemed as though the cottage was only one level. Again, Draco must have performed a spell to hide the upper level from view of outsiders. The first room Harry encountered was a baby's room. A wood cradle lay empty in the middle of the room. Hovering above the cradle was a mobile of tiny dragons and lions, which chased each other through the air.

A rocking chair sat next to the window overlooking the crashing waves. Harry lightly ran his fingers along a small dresser. On top of the dresser was a stack of neatly folded nappies and blankets. Harry tiptoed through the room, as if he were going to wake the baby not there.

He quietly closed the door and continued down the hall. The next door he found was sealed with wards; Draco's magic wards. He could sense the signature. The young Draco was making his way up the stairs with several small vials. Harry stood out of his way and followed him into the magically sealed room.

Upon entering, Harry could hardly believe what he was seeing. Covering almost one entire wall were photos and newspaper clippings of himself. They ranged from his first year at Hogwarts to the Tri-Wizard tournament to graduation to his acceptance at auror training. There were moving photos of him in his Quidditch uniform, school robes, muggle clothes and auror robes. Harry was shocked as he looked around.

He looked at the ragged blond who was placing the small vials into a locking corner cabinet. This was the first time he had seen the younger Draco's face: he looked tired and lost. Dark circles hung under his eyes and his skin was sallow.

The young Draco walked over to the wall where the clippings and photos hung. He studied one moving photo. It was Harry not long after the end of the war. He was standing in front of the lake at Hogwarts, black robes billowing from a breeze. The sky behind him was a grayish yellow which cast a peculiar glow across the lake. Harry didn't realize how old he looked at seventeen; how expressionless his features were. The younger Draco reached up and placed his hand on the photo, looked longingly at it and dropped his head. He slid his hand down the wall and pushed himself away to exit the room.

Harry looked more closely at the picture, trying to understand what Draco was looking at. The seventeen year old Harry in the photo looked quite similar to the Harry at the beginning of the school year: closed off and alone.

On the cluttered desk on the opposite wall, Harry found several unfinished letters addressed to him in order by date starting with mere days after the war ended. He began reading.

Potter: I want nothing more than for you to be dead so I can move on with my life. You have ruined me. I helped you kill Voldemort for the simple fact that he killed my parents and was a disgusting evil psychopath. I asked nothing of you and how dare you, Golden Boy, even think I wanted to live after the war ended. I will have to live the rest of my life in hiding because of you. I hate you, Potter. The revulsion I felt toward Voldemort is infinitely more with you...

Harry James Potter: I hereby request the magical bond you placed between us be broken. I am currently trying to move on with my life and studies and am unable to do so with you and your ridiculous mind occupying my every breath. You are the most selfish bastard I have ever encountered. The Golden Boy...Ha! I wish you were here with me dead.

Mr. Potter- I wanted to let you know that I appreciate realize you saved my life and I, in return saved yours. I command you to let this bond end If it is at all possible, could you please remove this bond. I am losing my mind without you... You consume me. My every thought revolves around you. I loathe everything you stand for...

Harry flipped through the pile to the last letter. He sat at the desk and read it several times through.

Harry,

I've been struggling with my new life lately. I suppose it actually is our new life, but you just can't know it right now. I have realized, over the past few years, that you saved me that night for reasons you yourself, weren't even willing to admit. I don't know when we will meet again, but you are in my thoughts every moment. I hated you, Harry. With ever fiber of my being. You have taught me more than you will ever know about what it's like to be a human. For that, I will never be able to repay you.

Life on the island has been difficult. For a long while, I was terribly lonely until I began accepting your mind and our bond. You have kept me mostly sane, Harry. Mostly. There's something you need to know. To begin simply, your magic runs through me. It is in my cells and my blood. What you learn, I learn. What you know, I know. I wish so much that you would open your mind to me so I could give you my knowledge.

This is probably the most difficult thing I've ever had to tell anyone in my life. I suppose the best way to say it is just to say it. We have a child. A beautiful daughter. I met a young woman here. She's the only witch on the island. Pure blood. Her name is Grainne Wolfe. She was not formally trained but somehow knew I was performing magic. She found me and asked me to teach her. Of course, I couldn't let an opportunity to show off my skills pass by, so I began. Our relationship progressed from student/teacher to lovers.

Unfortunately, I can't actually give myself to her because you are the only person I could ever possibly love. She knows nothing of this. Anyway, I decided that the only way to have you close to me was to have a child with her. My reasoning is insane. I know. Your magic is part of me so when Grainne became pregnant, she became pregnant by both of us.

You should see our child, Harry. She is absolutely beautiful. Of course, she does look like me. Her name is Morgan Imani Jessica Wolfe Malfoy. Grainne let me choose the names for her. I want you to know that they mean, to me anyway, 'Gods behold, this child represents my faith that she will bring you and I together.'

Something else you should know, Harry. She is blind. I've been working since Grainne and I found out, trying to come up with a potion that will cure her sight. So far, nothing has worked.

Anyway, my love, I wanted to share all of this with you. Maybe someday, we can all be together. I've changed, Harry. I have learned to love. Thank you will never be enough...

Yours, until I can no longer breathe,

Draco

Harry must have read the letter four times before he stood and walked from the room. He nearly stumbled down the stairs, trying to hold the banister with every ounce of strength. He walked past the younger Draco and out the front door. It was then he saw a low rowboat rocking back and forth on the waves as the young woman walked up from the beach to the cottage. The sun bore through a heavy mist, lighting her silhouette from the back. As she got closer, he saw that her hair hung in wet ropes that clung to her neck and face. She had been crying and her eyes looked completely vacant. He felt himself asking where the baby was. Not being able to hear or see him, she walked past him and into the cottage. He could do nothing but follow her.

"Grainne," he heard the young Draco ask, "Where is the baby?" There was a sense of urgency in his voice.

The young woman walked past him and into the kitchen area of the cottage. She didn't say a word.

"Where is Morgan, Grainne?" The younger Draco followed her and spun her by the shoulders to face him. "Where is she?" His tone was frantic and he was almost shouting.

Grainne stood against the counter almost limp. Her breath was calm and her head was tilted to the side looking past Draco. He began shaking her by the shoulders repeatedly shouting, "Where's Morgan? Where's our baby?"

Grainne slowly moved her eyes from an empty stare to focus on Draco's face. She lifted her hand and pointed through the door of the cottage to the sea. With a light, sing-songy voice, she answered, "She's there, Draco. She's safe."

Harry felt his stomach drop, almost to the point of throwing up. The scene playing before him was unbelievable. He leapt at the woman, wanting to understand what happened, wanting to shake her by the shoulders and pull an answer from her. Being that this was a memory, there was nothing he could do. This child, his and Draco's and her child... what had she done? Morgan was still alive, though. How was any of this possible?

"What do you mean, she's there? In the water? What did you do, Grainne? What did you do to her?" Draco was screaming at the woman.

Her hand fell to her side. With pitiless eyes, she straightened her head and spoke again. "Whatever evil you placed in that child is gone. She has been purified."

Draco stood breathing heavily, hands still on Grainne's shoulders.

"I know about the man you love. I know, Draco. I know..." she trailed off as her eyes fell away from his face. She snapped them back up and her voice was filled with abhorrence. "You have kept something from me for far too long. Do you think I don't hear you in your sleep? Mumbling constantly about this...this...Harry?" Draco began backing away.

"Did you think I couldn't break through your wards on your room upstairs? Come on now, Draco. You taught me well. I know about all of it." Her face took on the vacant appearance again. "You are supposed to be mine. Not his. Morgan was ours. Not his. She's gone Draco. Safe. I don't ever want to see you again." She walked past Draco, who was standing in disbelief, toward the door. Barely audibly, she whispered, "Ever again," before walking through the door and down to the boat.

Draco's chest began heaving, his breath rapid and erratic. He was shaking his head back and forth, mumbling "no" over and over. He walked to the table which had the bubbling cauldrons on it, bracing himself against the edge. Within seconds, he lifted the table from the stone floor, turning it over. Hot liquids ran over the floor, some of them catching fire.

Harry could feel the rage exploding inside the younger Draco. He stood there helpless as he watched the blond destroy everything inside the cottage. Potion vials were shattering against the walls; furniture was being tossed like toys around the room. Draco thrashed around as he used a combination of wandless magic and brute force to demolish his home.

When there was nothing left to destroy, the younger Draco fell to the floor sobbing. Harry walked to him and the images dissolved around him to reveal Draco removing his palm from Harry's scar. The heartstone stopped spinning in his hand and the glow faded to black night. Lost in the madness he had just witnessed, Harry sunk to the frozen earth.