Tempus Fugit

Chapter 11: Through Glassy Eyes

~*~

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag and begin slitting throats

- H.L.Mencken

~*~

Dying is a very dull and dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing to do with it

- Somerset Maugham

~*~

The pub became a mad scramble of activity as people tried to rush for the door. The Death Eaters didn't let them, however, and shot many people back towards the bar, magically locking the door, trapping everyone inside. The witches were screaming hysterically, the leprechauns were hiding under a table and the old men and women were huddling together as far away from the Death Eaters as possible, their eyes wide and frightened. The Death Eaters did not move to eliminate them, though. When they raised their wands at the 'hostages' it was to cast invisible magical bonds around them to prevent them from moving or helping. This was an act of revenge so complete that the glory of it was the ultimate aim. They needed witnesses.

They needn't have worried, though, the Death Eaters had eyes for only two people, both of whom were frozen to the spot in abject terror, unable to move.

"Shit!" Harry exclaimed, and both he and Draco dived to the floor as the first curses hurtled towards them, incinerating the table and chairs.

"What's going on?" Draco cried as Harry dragged him to his feet and they both pulled out their wands. The Death Eaters lowered their hoods, and the sallow faces of Macnair, Avery and Lestrange stared at the two men.

"This was what I was going to tell you," Harry said, looking at the silent Death Eaters, "we're in a bit of trouble."

"Who are you?" the barman asked fearfully. "What do you want?"

"We have come for Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy," Bellatrix Lestrange said, her eyes glinting evilly in the firelight.

"Harry Potter?!" one of the witches shrieked, "Draco Malfoy? Here?"

"They stand before us," Bellatrix said in a voice that would have cut steel. "But not for long." The muttering around them intensified until it resembled the buzzing of angry bees.

"Auntie Bella," Draco said, almost conversationally, "you're looking more unpleasant than usual."

"Quiet, traitor!" Bellatrix snapped, raising her wand until it pointed at Draco's throat. "I always said that you would be a thorn in your father's side, and I was right. My poor Narcissa thought she could make a real man out of you, but you were always going to be your family's ruin."

"I take it you don't like me much any more," Draco pointed out coolly.

"To betray the name of Malfoy was bad enough," Bellatrix went on, "but to consort with Potter of all people. You can sink no lower."

"As opposed to you," Draco snapped, "who can take the moral high ground even when about to kill your own nephew."

"Lestrange," Harry hissed, "you bitch. Do you really think you can fight us with any hope?" Even in the horrible tenseness of the moment he was glad that his voice did not quaver.

"You are the reason our master is weak and lost," Macnair said through cracked lips, "you are his bane. He will reward us greatly for killing you." Harry sensed what Draco was about to do.

"Avada Kedavra!" Draco yelled and a flash of green light shot from his wand towards Bellatrix. Several people screamed but she was too quick for him and shouted,

"Protego!" The spell reflected back to Draco who ducked just in time to feel it graze overhead, narrowly missing Harry who had had to throw himself bodily out of the way.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled, but his beam of red light deflected off Avery's protection charm. He was suddenly thrown into the wooden beams, his head snapping back and all breath snatched from his body. Macnair had shot a spell at him that had flung Harry into the wall, winded him and caused his arm to crack against the timber. He cried out in pain and sank, crumpled to the floor.

"Harry!" Draco yelled, but he couldn't go over to him because Bellatrix was advancing, her wand held high.

"Praecipito!" she shouted, and a brilliant jet of blue and silver echoed from her wand, catching Draco full in the chest. He felt as though he had been hit by a sledgehammer as the wind was knocked from him and he was flung unsteadily from his feet. Luckily he landed on the debris of one of the booths and was cushioned by the tattered remains of what had been a seat. Bellatrix was laughing poisonously at him, as Draco coughed, and drawing ever closer, enjoying this purgatory of torture.

There were so many thoughts running through Draco's head. Most pressing of these was: oh shit, I'm going to die, but one sneaked glance over at Harry, who was standing firm despite the unpleasant angle of his arm, gave Draco a strength he didn't know he had.

"Is that all you've got?" he spat, struggling valiantly to his feet and picking up his wand. Bellatrix's face suddenly contorted with rage and she sprang at him like a lioness.

"Tell my sister I sent you to her." she cried, and the killing curse began to form on her lips.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco yelled desperately, and his hex's aim was accurate as it hit Bellatrix forcefully in the chest, knocking her off her feet and sending her wand flying into the air. Draco didn't wait for her to get up before he had leapt over the tables, grabbed a large shard of glass from a broken bottle and pinned his aunt to the ground as she flailed madly beneath him, fingers groping redundantly for her wand, which was out of reach.

"Tell her yourself," he said as he shoved the glass into Bellatrix's neck, severing her jugular vein and delivering the perfect coup de grace that Sirius had been unable to. Warm, red blood streamed from the wound to her neck and Bellatrix coughed and spluttered, her words coming out garbled as red liquid began to trickle from the corners of her mouth. She groped uselessly for her wand and soon began to lose consciousness as the blood drained from her body.

Draco sprang up at once, horrified with himself for what he had just done. His family's blood, his blood, was staining his clothes and his skin, scalding him like burning oil as the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange visibly dulled in their sockets. Death was claiming her, as cold and unforgiving as that she had dealt to hundreds of muggles. There were women screaming and crying, the blood was spilling out onto the floor in a malevolent red pool, staining everything it touched. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, and Draco's heart was pounding as he looked around in fear.

Harry was being advanced upon by both Macnair and Avery. He was cradling his broken arm to his chest but he held his wand high and shouted spell after to delay them, each one glancing off their shielding spells. Harry's senses were dulled from pain, he wasn't quick enough. Draco sprang over to help him, but Harry suddenly yelled,

"Serpensortia!" A gigantic, black snake writhed out of the tip of Harry's wand and raised itself up, hissing viciously. Draco stopped in his tracks. The snake was far bigger than normal snakes were, and towered over Rookwood and Macnair who both regarded it warily. Harry, though, had a twisted smile on his face, and began to speak in a series of hisses and spitting noises that Draco recognised immediately as Parseltongue.

The language sounded incredibly sexy when issuing from Harry's lips, and if it hadn't been for the seriousness of their situation, Draco would have been a little turned on. As it was, he could only watch in fascination as the snake seemed to obey Harry's command and moved towards the two Death Eaters, swaying and hissing. Without any warning, it bared its pointed fangs and struck once, twice, three times into Macnair's abdomen, spilling forth crimson blood and making the Death Eater scream in pain and terror. The snake attacked him so viciously that Draco was sickened to watch it and actually retched as he heard bone crunching and flesh being ripped from the man's body.

Harry was watching all this without flinching. Rookwood, temporarily frozen with terror, regained something of his strength and sent another spell towards Harry. Harry couldn't duck this one, and was shot to the floor again, landing on his wounded arm, his head colliding so heavily with the wall that when he landed, he did not get up again.

The snake vanished at once, and Macnair's lifeless body fell to the floor.

Cold, painful horror began to permeate Draco's consciousness as he looked at Harry lying there amongst the rubble, unmoving. He could not lose him, he couldn't. A blind rage seemed to overtake Draco as his legs carried him forwards as if on castors and he flung himself at Rookwood's back, sending the man toppling to the ground and away from Harry. Rookwood was much bigger and stronger than he was, though, and soon managed to flip Draco over and pin him against the wall, his wand pointing at his heart.

"You're dead, Malfoy," Rookwood spat, tearing Draco's wand from his hand and breaking it, "you're dead!"

"Kill me, then," Draco said, "if that's what you came here to do. Avenge my mother and make my father proud. They fucked up royally to end up where they are, and living proof of Voldemort's infinite glory. Dead and imprisoned." he gasped as Rookwood backhanded him painfully across the face and he spat blood onto the floor from where he had bitten his lip.

"One more word and I will cut out your tongue," Rookwood said maliciously, his eyes glinting and his teeth bared. "Take your last breath, son of Lucius." Draco knew full well that he was going to die then. He would see that flash of green light and then life would be snatched from his body. He knew this, but now he was unafraid.

But the flash that followed was a brilliant, blinding white that filled the room and blasted a hole through on of the walls. Six figures were framed in the light, casting slim silhouettes that appeared blurry to Draco's tired eyes.

"Stupefy!" a voice cried and Rookwood slumped over Draco, stunned. Draco scrambled to his feet and looked around. Remus, Hermione, Ron, Seamus and the twins were standing there, wands held high, faces bearing worried expressions.

"Draco!" Hermione ran towards him and gave him a hug. "You're all right!"

"Yeah," Draco said breathlessly, before darting over to where Harry lay. "Oh God, Hermione, he's not breathing." A dreadful panic was filling Draco as he watched Harry lying there, crumpled into a heap, arm lying at a grotesque angle, blood trickling from a cut above his eye.

"Stand back," Remus said, bending over Harry.

"Where are the other Death Eaters?" George asked seriously and Draco pointed one shaking finger to the horribly disfigured bodies of Macnair and Bellatrix, both of whom were covered in copious amounts of blood.

"Oh disgusting," Seamus said, bending over them. "Is this your handiwork?" He extracted the piece of glass from Bellatrix's neck and Draco nodded numbly. "Nice one," he said. "I haven't seen a case like this in a while." Ron's strong arms were stopping Draco from running to Harry's side and he wasn't able to see what Remus and Hermione was doing over the redhead's tall shoulder.

"Just wait a minute," Ron said gently. "They know what they're doing."

"How did you know we were here?" Draco asked, his voice sounding raspy.

"Harry left us a note at Grimmauld Place," Ron explained. "And we Apparated here at once." Draco nodded again, taking nothing in. He had suddenly begun to shake very hard and Ron was looking at him anxiously.

"Are you ok?" he asked, looking at the blood Draco was covered in, "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No," Draco said, "this is Bella's blood."

"You killed her with a piece of glass?" Ron asked. "Did she disarm you?"

Draco couldn't answer. He knew that any attempt he made at Avada Kedavra would not be strong enough to kill anyone. It would probably knock them out for a few hours but that would be it. Draco had needed to kill and the brutal method he had employed had seemed the most effective at the time.

Fred was moving among the frightened huddle of witches and wizards, healing the minor cuts and bruises that the Death Eaters had dealt out and making sure that no-one was seriously hurt.

"I shall be going straight to the press!" the barman was exclaiming in a pompous voice. "Such goings on! In my bar!"

"You're lucky to be alive," Fred said shortly. "If they hadn't been after Potter or Malfoy you would most certainly be dead right now."

"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy," the barman said breathlessly, "in my bar, why, I never recognised them!"

"But you won't remember any of this, I'm afraid," Fred said coldly, holding up his wand, "Obliviate!" A look of peaceful dreaminess diffused across the man's face and Draco recognized it at once as being the effects of someone whose memory has been wiped. Fred then proceeded to go among the rest of the customers, modifying their memories, whilst George came up with an elaborate lie to explain the wreckage and dead bodies.

"Muggles," Draco heard him tutting. "These two watched too many horror films and attacked you all. Thank God we got here in time."

"Who are you?" The barmaid asked, confusedly.

"Magical Law Enforcement Squad," George replied effortlessly. "We're trained professionals, madam." He flashed his library card with a look of such supreme confidence that the barmaid nodded hastily, biting her lip.

"He's waking up!" Draco heard Remus say and managed to struggle out of Ron's arms and dart to Harry's side. Remus and Hermione had magicked his arm into a sling and healed the bones in it before reviving Harry and closing some of his bloodier cuts. Harry's eyes lids were flickering open, and Draco pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

"Wake up, you son of a bitch," he said hoarsely, and could have sworn that he saw Harry smile.

"He'll be fine," Remus said, as Harry opened his eyes.

"Draco?" he croaked.

"I'm here," Draco stroked his hair, and kissed him again.

"Are you ok?" Harry tried to sit up, and Draco helped him.

"Yeah," he replied, "Now will you think about yourself for once?"

"Thank God you're all right," Hermione said in relief, but her face was very white.

"That was close," Draco muttered.

"I think we ought to get you all home," Remus said gently. "Come on." He lifted Harry as easily as if he was carrying a child and took him over towards the fireplace. Hermione helped Draco to follow and the rest of the Order brought up the rear. One by one they stepped into the flames and flooed back to Harry and Draco's flat, leaving the twins to clear up the debris.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the flat, Remus laid Harry gently on the sofa and Draco washed the blood off his hands before sitting with him and conjuring a large glass of scotch.

"What happened?" Remus asked and Draco began to talk. He told them everything that had happened from the moment Harry had entered the bar to when the others had arrived, omitting nothing, his voice soon becoming hoarse and croaky.

"You say you still had your wand when you were leaning over Bellatrix?" Remus looked slightly confused. "Why didn't you Avada Kedavra her? Why reach for the glass?" Draco looked at his hands, before up at Hermione who was biting her lip, before down at Harry who nodded at him.

"Tell them," he said quietly.

"Tell us what?" Ron asked from where he sat.

For the second time that afternoon, Draco constructed an explanation, prompted by Hermione and Harry who filled in the bits he had forgotten. Ron spluttered indignantly on several occasions but Remus was silent until they had finished, his face grave.

"You say you have been here, in these bodies, for all this time?" he asked.

"Yes," Draco said, "it's been a nightmare."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Hermione thought it was best," Draco glanced at her nervously.

"I did," she said. "I thought I would be able to find an antidote without the need to tell anyone else." She went on, "Unfortunately, it doesn't seem as though one exists."

"You drank a Pertho Draught?" Remus asked and Harry and Draco nodded. "I've heard of it," he said sombrely, "and I think I might know where to find a reversal spell."

"Oh wonderful," Harry sighed, "at last."

"You should have told me," Remus chided Hermione,

"And me!" Ron exclaimed. "You're telling me that you are the seventeen year old versions of yourselves?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "the last thing I remember about you is that you were dating Padma Patil."

"Oh yeah," Ron's eyes misted over as he recalled the time Harry was speaking of, "now she was hot." Hermione swatted him,

"You are engaged," she reminded.

"A man can dream, can't he?" Ron grinned.

"I don't understand," Seamus said. "You've been pretending all along? We never even noticed."

"I thought you were acting a bit strange," Ron admitted, "especially when we were reminiscing about all the ex-Slytherins." He directed this at Draco.

"In my time, we're still friends," Draco said sadly, "so everything you said came as a bit of a shock."

"I have to say I think it's dangerous that you should go back knowing so much about your future," Remus looked concerned.

"Dangerous it may be," Harry sighed, "but now we have seen the future we might be able to change it slightly." he looked up at Draco who comprehended exactly what he was talking about. "We may be able to do some good. Save some lives."

"Maybe," said Remus, "I hope so."

"But you two are acting like you're in love and everything," Ron pointed out, "I thought you still hated each other in sixth year."

"We did," Harry said, "but I think that being forced together for so long might have speeded things along a bit." He sat up, rubbing his head and Draco pulled him into his arms.

"This is bizarre, man," Ron said, shaking his head. "I thought you were acting weird but I couldn't out my finger on why. Now it all makes sense."

"I'm getting a headache," Seamus declared. "So when you were fighting those Death Eaters..."

"We didn't have a clue what we were doing," Draco supplied, "so we're very, very lucky to be alive now."

"Oh Merlin," Hermione rested her head in her hands, "this is such a mess."

"There is a book which catalogues all the different varieties and antidotes to potions such as the Pertho Draught," Remus said, "which Hermione probably has in her impressive library."

"We've looked," Harry said, "but we couldn't find anything."

"Ah, you wouldn't," Remus said, a twinkle in his eye, "it wouldn't be the kind of book you'd look in."

"We'll go tomorrow and find it," Hermione said, "if you'll come and help, Remus."

"Of course I will."

"But now you have to rest." A motherly expression had flitted across her face and she fixed them with a steely look. "I will brook no contradiction," she said, "I want you in bed, now."

"Ja, mein Fuehrer," Harry said, as Draco hauled him to his feet and slung his arm around his waist, supporting him as they walked. He had to admit, that after the exhausting afternoon they had had, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in Draco's arms and sleep for an eternity.

The bedroom was dark, even though it was still the afternoon, and the sounds of the traffic outside the windows seemed oddly dulled. Gingerly unwrapping his sling, Harry massaged his aching arm and winced as he found it extremely tender. Draco ran one hand over the abused limb, tracing a delicate line across Harry's shoulder blades and round the back of his neck, drawing him close enough to kiss deeply.

"Distraction tactic?" Harry asked, grinning.

"It worked, didn't it?" Draco asked, pulling his shirt over his head and quickly divesting Harry of his, trying not to further hurt his arm in the process. They kissed again, a tingling sensation running the length of their naked chests as they met, their arms wrapping round each other.

"Hermione will be in in a minute," Harry warned, feeling an erection threaten and knowing that they would be unable to do anything about it. Draco looked faintly disappointed. He kissed Harry again, pushing him slowly backwards onto the bed and sliding across him so that they lay side by side.

"Get some sleep," Draco said. "You look exhausted." And he nestled closer to Harry, burying his face in the tangled mass of glossy, black hair. Harry breathed Draco deeply, relishing every moment of his company and his closeness.

"Night, Draco," he said, and closed his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Good morning." A soft voice issuing from rose-red lips brought Harry into wakefulness the next morning. He found himself curled in the same position he had woken in when they had arrived in the future, with Draco's face pressed close to his own. "How are you feeling?" Draco asked him, and Harry rubbed his eyes blearily until the gash of blond came into sharper focus. He soon became aware of a painful twinge in his arm and he moved it, grimacing.

"Sore," he said,

"That's to be expected," Draco frowned, "let me look." With an uncharacteristic gentleness he took Harry's arm into his hands and began examining it. There would be a fair amount of bruising if the bluish-grey contusions were anything to go by, but no major damage done. Harry watched Draco's absorption, his eyes never leaving his face.

"I didn't think we were going to make it out of there," he said thickly. "I really didn't."

Draco looked at the pillow without seeing it. "I know what you mean," he said, his voice quiet, "but we were very lucky."

"Did I black out?" Harry asked, having only the vaguest recollections of everything that had happened since the snake had exploded from the end of his wand. He remembered being hurled into the wall and breaking his arm. He remembered the blinding pain as he dodged curse after curse, and he remembered faintly speaking Parseltongue and watching a giant cobra rip a man's heart out. Harry suddenly felt somewhat nauseous.

"Yeah, Remus revived you. I thought for a moment," Draco broke off, unable to continue, "I thought... you might be..." He couldn't finish.

"Dead?" Harry prompted.

"That scared me more than anything in the world," Draco said, his voice as sincere as Harry had ever known it, and eyes moving to rest on Harry's face, filled with a grey anxiety that Harry had never noticed before. "Never do that to me again," he breathed.

"Near death experiences come as a hazard of being the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry smiled inwardly. "You get used to them," he said, shrugging, and wishing that it didn't have to be so. How many people had survived five plots to kill them by their sixteenth birthday?

"I don't want to lose you," Draco said suddenly, surprising even himself with the declaration.

"You won't," Harry murmured, pulling Draco onto his lips and slipping one hand down beneath the covers. The look that suddenly crossed Draco's face was glorious, and, positioning himself above Harry so as not to hurt his arm, he swooped down on him until they were as one person. Touching their way to completion, Harry soon forgot where he ended and Draco began, and for one, fleeting moment, he lost himself in the taste of someone else.

"Hermione will be here soon," Harry muttered after they had slumped back on the bed again half an hour later.

"Did she ring our fellytone?" Draco asked, his eyes closed and his lips swollen.

"Yes," Harry trailed one finger across the slim, red line of Draco's mouth, smiling. "Remus found the book he was talking about." Draco opened his eyes but there was a shadow of discontent flickering through his eyes. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, and Draco sighed.

"I guess this is it, isn't it?" he said, looking around at the opulent room they had been occupying for so long, and had come to think of as their home. "Our last day in the future-present, whatever the hell we're meant to call this."

"I guess so," Harry replied, also looking around. This place was now familiar to them, and a part of him didn't want to leave. "And we thought we'd only be spending about half an hour here."

"Do you think we'll be able to take something back?" Draco asked.

"I don't know," Harry yawned, "why?" In answer, Draco leaned over to his bedside cabinet and withdrew from a drawer, a wizarding photograph. It was in black and white and was of them lying on a beach somewhere, Draco stretched out on top of Harry as a monochrome sunset streaked the sky behind them. Sitting in the background was Hermione, Sean and Ron, all waving at the camera. Harry and Draco's pictorial selves were smiling at each other, and occasionally leaned in for a rough kiss.

"I found this," Draco said, looking at it fondly, "and I loved it." Harry could see why. The camera had captured every detail with perfect clarity and there was something ultimately comfortable about the way in which the men were positioned together that spoke a lot about the way they were as a couple.

"What would you do with it?" Harry asked, looking at the picture.

"I don't know," Draco shrugged, "just a souvenir of a very memorable trip."

"You can say that again," Harry smiled.

"I wonder what our friends will say when they see this," Draco said, watching his photographic self calmly pour sand into Harry's hair.

"You think we should show them?" Harry's brow furrowed.

"You don't?"

"No, I was just wondering what you thought about that," his emphasis on the last word of the sentence made Draco look up and narrow his eyes.

"What?" he asked. Harry flushed slightly, and didn't quite meet Draco's eyes, the way he always looked when he was getting uncomfortable.

"Whether we should remain... you know... boyfriends, when we get back," he mumbled, and Draco had to strain to catch every word.

"Don't you want to?" he asked.

"Of course I do!" Harry exclaimed. "Things will be different, that's all. Harder." He had been worrying about this for a while. How was he supposed to explain to Ron what he felt for Draco? Everything had happened so fast that he could hardly fathom it himself, let alone expect his friends to, when they hadn't even witnessed any of this.

"Why?" Draco asked.

"Well everyone accepts us here," Harry said, throwing up his hands. "I think it'll cause quite a stir back in 1996 if we suddenly start sleeping together."

Draco paused for a moment in silent contemplation. "At least life will be interesting," he sighed.

They didn't have much time to think over this problem before they heard the familiar 'whooshing' sound coming from the living room that meant that someone had just flooed over to the apartment.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice echoed through the walls. "Draco? We're here!" She called, and Harry's heart immediately began to pound.

"It's Hermione and Remus!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"Hang on a sec!" Draco yelled as they rolled off the bed and began foraging around the floor for clothes. As soon as they were suitably covered, they raced next door where they found Hermione and Remus holding up an enormous leather-bound book.

"We found it!" Hermione said, her eyes sparkling.

"Where was it?" Harry asked, looking at the book which was threatening to crumble into dust at any moment.

"I knew that records of the Pertho Draught had been documented since the 1500's," Remus explained, clearing his throat with what sounded like a painful cough. "so you just had to look in here," he pointed to the title of the book, 'A Fulle Lyste of Potion Developmentes in this, the sixteenth century' by Heinard Goblintoe, "to find what you needed."

"I never thought of that," Harry admitted, wondering why the idea of scanning historical references had slipped his mind.

"Is there a counter spell?" Draco asked, taking care not to damage any of the cracked pages in the book.

"Yes," Hermione said, slapping his hand away, "and an explanation as to why yours went wrong."

"We know," Harry sighed, recalling that disastrous moment when the rose petals vanished beneath the surface of their potion. "we added the wrong colour rose petals."
"Yes, but you should have returned once the time limit ran out," Hermione said, frowning. "I think the potion kept working because you added too much of the active ingredients."

"Impossible," Draco snapped at once, not suffering anyone to contest his potion-making ability.

"Don't slight Draco's potion making skills," Harry warned, with an amused look at Draco. "He's likely to hex you."

"The method you were working from must have been incorrect," Hermione said simply, "or you were imprecise. One of the two."

"I am never imprecise," Draco said, a dark look crossing his handsome face.

"But the book was covered in potion smudges," Harry reminded him, thinking back to the lesson. "You probably read the quantities wrong." Draco nodded, and Harry could tell that he was remembering too.

"Blame Goyle, he dropped my book in his cauldron the week before that lesson," he sighed, and sat down.

"It doesn't matter, though," Remus said softly, "as long as we can get you back safely."

"And this will work, will it?" Draco said, looking slightly worried. "No offence, Hermione, but your last attempt was pretty rough," he went on, apologetically.

"Last attempt?" Remus fixed Hermione with a searching gaze which made her appear suitably abashed.

"I thought that with the correct adaptation, a perspective switching spell might work," she said, not looking directly at the werewolf. "Unfortunately, it didn't.

"Good idea, though," Remus conceded.

"So what will happen with this spell?" Harry asked.

"You will need to be put to sleep," Hermione said, suddenly businesslike. "Remus and I will say the incantations over your bodies and when you wake up, with any luck you will be in your own time."

"Sounds great, let's do it," Harry's heart was soaring. Here was the answer to their prayers. They had waited so long for this moment.

"Hang on, I'll need to make a sleeping potion for you," Hermione said, vanishing into the kitchen.

"I can't believe that we're finally going back!" Draco exclaimed, seemingly unable to sit still. It was at times like these, when the joy and glamour of youth shone through his tired eyes and his platinum hair was swept carelessly back from his face, that Harry saw in him again the teenager that he had effectively grown up with. He spent a long time just looking at Draco and drinking in every ounce of beauty.

"I know," he said, smiling slightly, "it seems like so long."

"It is, we've been here over a month."

"Really?" Draco glanced over at the calendar. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath.

"Think how much we've missed," Harry groaned, thinking of all the make-up work they would have to complete.

"Think how much we've seen," Draco reminded him.

"I know," Harry was sure that they would come out of this much older and wiser. "I'll never read Oscar Wilde with the same eyes."

"I'm glad I've managed to educate you," Draco said.

"It seems weird, though."

"I know what you mean," Draco looked down at his hands, "I kinda like it here, it's become more comfortable."

"Out of necessity." Harry licked his lips. "We've just had to live with it."

"Do you think things will change?" Draco asked him, a hint of worry tinting his deep voice. "You know, when we get back."

"I think we'll be able to change some of the worst parts," Harry said hopefully. "We might be able to change the future for the better."

"I wouldn't count on that," Remus interjected gently. He had been silent, listening to Harry and Draco talk, but now he leaned forward, the sunlight illuminating his grizzled face and making him look older than ever.

"Why not?" Draco asked indignantly.

"I'm not sure quite how much of this you'll remember," Remus said. "The description of the spell is a bit sketchy on that point."

"We'll remember that we are together, though, won't we?" Harry asked, feeling very anxious.

"I can't go back to us hating each other," Draco said.

"Me neither."

"Oh you'll definitely remember something so fundamental as that," Remus assured them. "What I mean is, you won't remember many of the details. This will all seem like a slightly blurry dream."

"So we'll remember that we have feelings for each other?" Harry relaxed a bit as Remus nodded.

"Yes, you should do," he said.

"I hope so."

"It might be a good thing that you don't remember everything," Remus said in the sage way that had always defined his manner of speaking. "that way you can't wreak any drastic changes."

Harry paused to think about the consequences their memory could have on their future lives when he noticed Draco get up and reach for the newspaper.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to memorize what IBM is selling at in this time," Draco said, flipping over the page and scanning the stock market reports.

"Do you ever think about anything but money?" Harry grinned.

"Occasionally," Draco said seriously. "I try not to make a habit of it."

"So, providing you still have hazy memories of your life in the future, what do you think you'll try to change?" Remus asked curiously.

"My obsession with Death Eaters," Harry's face suddenly darkened visibly. "It took over my life."

"It did," Remus agreed. "That's the reason you stopped being an Auror. Your life was in danger and you had nothing else to live for. It was the only thing you had left, in the end it was unhealthy."

"I'm going to pay a visit to my mother," Draco said, dropping the paper, "and try to talk some sense into her. God knows, someone has to."

"It'll be ok," Harry said softly.

"I know," Draco sighed, "I know."

"Potion will be ready in five minutes," Hermione called from the kitchen. Harry looked round the door to see her simmering a tiny cauldron over their oven grill.

"That was quick," he said approvingly.

"Simple textbook draught," Hermione said airily, "nothing special, you only need to be asleep for a couple of minutes."

"Great," Harry said, feeling the first clutches of nervousness swim around his stomach.

"Don't worry," Hermione soothed, "everything will be fine." Harry wished to God that he could believe her. It wasn't so much that he doubted Hermione's potion making skills rather than he knew just how much scope there was for error in any magical undertakings, especially of this magnitude and importance. He had little doubt that the potion Hermione intended to brew was going to be highly complicated and therefore carry with it a greater risk factor than anything Harry would feel comfortable drinking. He also had the harrowing memories of the last time Hermione had been so sure of her own skill and they had ended up writhing around on the floor in the kind of acute agony that Harry had only felt with the use of the Cruciatus Curse.

He immediately dismissed these traitorous thoughts, as he caught a glimpse of Hermione in the kitchen, doing her best to help them. He knew that both he and Draco had been next to useless in devising ways to send them home and he was infinitely grateful to Hermione for her help and continued support. Without her it was very likely that they would have become hermits and spent their days living off pineapples and Tabasco sauce.

Glancing over at Draco, though, Harry saw the same nervousness mirrored in his usually impassive face, and knew that he wasn't being unreasonable to distrust anything Hermione gave him to put in his mouth.

It was far too short a time before Hermione said, "Ok you guys, this is it, potion's ready." Both Harry and Draco jumped to their feet as she walked in carrying two tumblers full of some lavender-coloured liquid.

"We drink this now?" Draco asked and Remus nodded,

"This will put you to sleep," he said, "and with any luck, you'll be eight years younger when you wake up."

Hermione was looking at them with a mixture of wistfulness and delight. "I'll miss you," she said.

"And you," Harry said, pulling her into a warm hug, "thank you so much for helping us." He stepped back and Draco gave Hermione a hug as well.

"You turned out ok," he said, "Granger." Hermione laughed and kissed them both.

"Try not to change," she said, "except," she looked at Draco, "you could be a bit nicer to me in school."

"Consider it done," Draco smiled, a faint blush on his cheekbones.

"Ready?" Remus' calm voice brought them back to reality. He held out the glasses, which Harry and Draco took and drained at once.

"Here goes," Harry said and then they both slumped to the floor, blackness sweeping through their minds and eddying their thoughts into one long tunnel of soporific blurs.

The last things they saw were Remus and Hermione standing next to them, their arms outstretched to catch them as they fell.

Neither of them remembered hitting the ground.