From the Best of Intentions...

From the Best of Intentions...

Draco woke up with a feeling of absolute terror, alerting him to the fact that he was alone in the bed. He didn't even have to reach out and feel the emptiness beside him to know that Harry wasn't there. Trying to force a few deep breaths around the pressure that was forming in his chest, he opened his eyes. The moonlight that shone through the window was faint, but still bright enough for Draco to see that Harry was nowhere in the bedroom.

He pushed the panic aside, and rose from the bed. At the door to the living room he hesitated. What if Harry wasn't there? But he has to be. Please be there, Harry. I'll do anything. Just be there. Swallowing hard, he opened the door.

Harry was sitting curled up on the couch, staring out through the open window. Draco felt his whole world falling into place again. Harry was still with him.

He sat down next to Harry and put his arms around him. "Another dream?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded and leaned into his embrace.

"You should have woken me up."

"It was just a dream. There's no need for both of us to lose sleep over it."

"Harry." Draco pushed him away a little so that he could look him in the eye. "I want you to wake me up when you've had one of those dreams. I want to help you. I don't want you to sit here alone all night thinking about it. Promise you'll wake me next time."

Harry smiled. "They're just dreams, Draco. They don't bother me as much anymore. Honest."

"Promise me!" Draco knew he sounded desperate, but he couldn't help it. The feeling of waking up alone, of thinking - however briefly - that Harry might have left him... It was too horrible.

"Fine, I promise," Harry murmured, and Draco pulled him close again. Harry's body felt cold against his chest and Draco wondered how long he had been sitting there with the chilly night breeze washing over him.

"What did you dream of this time?" he asked.

"The usual. That Voldemort was still alive. But so were Dumbledore and the Weasleys and Hermione and Sirius and all the rest. The war was going on, and we were losing. But somehow I wasn't there, and everyone was dying all over again, and it was all my fault because I had left them."

"Oh, Harry." Draco tightened his arms around him. "It's not your fault. Nothing that happened is your fault."

"I know." The words sounded empty, rehearsed. Draco knew Harry still blamed himself. "But so many people died."

"And many more would have died if it weren't for you."

"Yes, but..."

"No buts!"

Draco kissed him on the forehead, and Harry sighed deeply.

"Sometimes I wish I could remember," Harry whispered.

"You will. When you're ready for it."

Harry shook his head, apparently feeling that he needed to explain. "It's not like I particularly want to remember killing Voldemort. From what you've told me it must have been awful..."

"It was, Harry. Don't think about it."

"...but not really knowing what happened drives me crazy sometimes."

"I've told you everything I could." Draco rested his cheek against the top of Harry's head. "Please, don't make me tell it again. Not tonight, anyway."

"I won't," Harry promised, seriously. "It's just that sometimes, when my scar hurts, it feels so real that I can't really believe that he's gone, that we won."

"Well, we did, and you're a hero. You saved us, Harry."

"Some hero," Harry muttered, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice. "I don't think having a nervous breakdown is very heroic."

"No, Harry, it is. I think the way you've managed to pull yourself together is nothing short of amazing."

Harry lifted a hand and cupped Draco's cheek. "That's thanks to you. Without you, I'm not sure I'd be alive today."

Draco closed his eyes, trying to hide how deeply those words affected him. "Let's go back to bed," he said, opening his eyes and smiling gently at Harry. "You're getting cold."

It didn't take long for Harry to fall asleep, once they had snuggled down in the large, comfortable bed. But Draco didn't sleep any more that night. He lay almost unnaturally still, holding Harry close to him. It might be just dreams to Harry, but to Draco it was so much more than that, so much worse...

***

"Do we have any grapefruits?" Harry asked as Draco walked into the kitchen the next morning.

Draco yawned, and sat down heavily at the kitchen table. He had finally fallen into an uneasy slumber at dawn, and then woken again as Harry started stirring a few hours later. Harry had kissed him on the cheek and told him to go back to sleep. But once Harry had gotten up, Draco found that it was totally impossible to fall asleep. He just couldn't sleep alone anymore.

So here he was now, out of bed way too early, thinking about where the grapefruits could have disappeared to.

"I don't know," he answered Harry's question. "If you can't find any, we must have eaten the last ones yesterday."

"Yeah, we must have..." Harry agreed. He dug around in the fruit bowl, finally settling for an apple. "Want one?" he asked holding it out to Draco.

Draco shook his head. "Did you look behind the fridge? Sometimes the fruits fall out of the bowl and roll off the table. There might be grapefruits behind there."

Harry laughed and sat down across from Draco. "There might be. But I'm afraid to look?"

"Why?"

"It might be last month's grapefruits. Or last year's."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And you'd rather just leave it there than picking it up and throwing it away?"

"As long as it doesn't smell, it's not bothering anyone."

They both burst out laughing, and Draco felt his heart starting to beat faster. This was a part of love he had never imagined existed before he and Harry had moved in together; eating breakfast together and having a silly discussion about hypothetical grapefruits behind the fridge. It felt so peaceful, so comfortable, that he just wanted to climb up on the table and scream out his joy.

"We're almost out of bread, too," Harry said when the laughter faded. "And sugar and milk."

Draco grimaced. "In other words, time for shopping. I guess I could go this afternoon."

Harry looked down and fiddled with the tablecloth. Then he took a deep breath. "I was thinking... maybe this time I could go with you."

"You sure?" Draco tried to make his voice casual.

Harry looked up. His eyes were pleading and desperate. "We're twenty two years old. We can't keep isolating ourselves like a pair of old wizards who've seen more of the world than they want to."

"Are you sure?" Draco asked again, this time dropping all attempts at keeping the conversation light.

"I want to get better," Harry said so quietly that Draco could barely hear him. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not!"

"No? This can't be fun for you. Just staying here, cut off from the rest of the world, taking care of your mentally unstable lover."

"Harry. Don't say that. You know I chose this. And there hasn't been a single time I've regretted it. I'd rather be here, alone with you for the rest of my life than anywhere else with anyone else."

Harry smiled. It was one of those vulnerable, but oh-so-enticing smiles that made Draco want to drag him to the bedroom and keep him there for the rest of the morning.

***

"Apparate!" Hermione murmured. She flicked her wand once, and her tidy office disappeared and she was standing in a gateway leading into a cosy little garden. Beyond the multitude of trees and bushes she could see a small house. She put her wand back in her pocket and wiped the sweat off her hands. What if this wasn't the right house?

What if it was?

As she started walking towards the house, she saw someone crouching next to what looked like a patch of vegetables. She stopped, staring at the figure. He was turned away from her, but his movements, the way he held his shoulders, the hair that grew wilder than the weeds in the garden - everything about him was achingly familiar.

"Harry..."

He turned around at the sound of her voice, and she barely had time to register that it really was Harry, before his face contorted into a mask of shock and terror and something she would have called madness, if it had been anyone else. For a moment he looked almost dangerous, then his features softened and he just looked lost and confused.

"Hermione?"

"Oh, Harry!" She ran to him and threw her arms around him with such force that she almost knocked him over. He didn't seem to care. He hugged her back fiercely, touched her like he couldn't believe she was really there.

"Please tell me you're real," he whispered. "Please tell me I'm not hallucinating..."

She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard an unspoken again.

"Of course I'm real." She tried to laugh, but the laughter got caught somewhere in her throat. "What's wrong; Harry?"

"Nothing's wrong." He pulled out of her arms and started touching her cheeks, her hair. He seemed completely fascinated. "You're alive!"

"Of course I'm alive. Why wouldn't I be?"

"But you died." He looked utterly lost again. "I remember... well, I don't remember, you see, I had a nervous breakdown and everything's a bit fuzzy, but... maybe... how did you survive?"

"Survive what? Harry..." Something was really wrong. Nervous breakdown? "Why did you think I was dead?"

Harry closed his eyes, as if in pain. "Voldemort... he killed you. Right before... right before he died."

Hermione stared at him. Voldemort killing her? Voldemort dead? What was Harry talking about?

"I'm so sorry," Harry whimpered. "I was too late and I'm sorry. I know it's my fault, I wasn't good enough." He opened his eyes and looked at her intently. He ran a hand over her cheek again. "But you're alive! Does that mean...? Is anyone else...?"

"Harry, Voldemort isn't dead. No one is... well a few... but I don't understand what..."

She was interrupted by the loud bang of a door being slammed shut. They both jumped, and Hermione turned around to look in the direction of the sound. Someone was walking very quickly towards them. It looked like... no, it couldn't be... But it was Malfoy! What was he doing here?

She hadn't thought about Malfoy in years. She remembered that he had rejected the Death Eaters and joined their side sometime in the beginning of the war. But then he had just disappeared... around the same time Harry disappeared! Why hadn't she made the connection before? But why would Harry and Malfoy disappear together? It just didn't make any sense.

Harry let go of her, went to meet Malfoy, and, to Hermione's great surprise, hugged him. Were they friends? The thought of Harry being friends with Malfoy seemed very distasteful, somehow. But she quickly realised that that was not the case. That hug was not one of friendship. It was more like an embrace. It was... No! That just wasn't possible.

"Look, Draco," Harry was saying against Malfoy's neck. "It's Hermione. She's alive."

And Malfoy was looking. His eyes were boring into her, and they were so cold and full of hostility that she had to take a step backwards.

"Yes, she seems to be that way," Malfoy hissed. Then he pulled his wand and whispered something in Harry's ear. Harry slumped down, and hung limply in Malfoy's arms.

"What did you do to him?" Hermione shrieked.

Malfoy didn't seem to hear her. He just leaned his cheek against Harry's temple and stroked his hair in what looked like a soothing manner.

"What did you do, you bastard?" Hermione yelled. "I swear, if you've hurt him..."

"Don't just stand there," Malfoy said suddenly. "Help me get him inside."

"Why?"

"Because he's quite heavy and my arms will get tired soon and I don't like the idea of leaving him out here." He raised an eyebrow at her. She probably looked confused, because he added, "It looks like it'll rain soon."

"What's wrong with him?" she asked suspiciously, as she took a few hesitant steps closer.

"Oh, relax, Granger." Malfoy sounded annoyed. "It's just a simple sleeping spell. Now, are you going to help me, or are you trying to prove that you really are useless?"

Reluctantly she helped him carry Harry inside the house. Reluctantly, because that meant she had to get close to Malfoy, and she really didn't want that. He scared her.

They placed Harry on a large couch in the living room. Malfoy laid his wand on the coffee table, sat down at the end of the couch and gently lifted Harry's head onto his lap. Harry snuggled closer as if Malfoy's thighs were his most comfortable pillow.

Hermione was disgusted. How dared Malfoy treat Harry that way? Like he owned him. It was appalling and... wrong. And yet it somehow looked natural, almost right.

Her thoughts must have been visible on her face, because Malfoy glared at her defiantly, and started running his fingers through Harry's hair. She wanted to hit him, scream at him, make him stop touching Harry. But there was something about that gesture... it looked gentle, but at the same time oddly absentminded. Like it was something he was so used to that he wasn't even aware that he was doing it.

"Well. Sit," he commanded, nodding towards a chair.

She took the chair and sat, silent and tense for a long time. Malfoy stared maliciously at her. He wasn't going to make this easy. Whatever this was.

"What's wrong with Harry?" she asked when the silence became too unpleasant to bear. Because it was obvious now that something was wrong. Really wrong. There was no way he'd be... together... with Malfoy otherwise.

"Nothing's wrong," Malfoy said. He looked down at Harry and stroked his cheek lightly. Hermione was taken aback by how his whole appearance suddenly changed. He seemed softer, and his eyes filled with warmth and concern and... No! She didn't want to think love.

"Nothing? How can you say that? He said he'd had a nervous breakdown. He thinks Voldemort is dead. He thinks I'm dead! Why would he think that if nothing's wrong with him?"

Malfoy looked at her, and he immediately turned cold and threatening. "He thinks that because it's best for him."

"What?"

Malfoy turned his gaze to Harry again, and when he spoke his voice was gentle, as if he didn't want to wake Harry up. "It's a special kind of memory charm. It doesn't just cover up old memories, but reshapes them. You can make someone believe whatever you want them to believe, as long as you give them enough motivation."

Hermione made a gagging sound, but Malfoy didn't take any notice of her discomfort. He just kept on talking, and to Hermione it sounded almost like some twisted kind of confession.

"Harry is difficult to work with. He has such a strong and curious mind. He wants to find out the truth, and he's absolutely loyal to his friends. But he also doubts himself. He sees weaknesses in himself where there aren't any. He has no problem believing that the sight of his friends dying could drive him out of his mind. And so far his feelings for me have been reason enough for him not to go digging around in his past."

"You... you..." Hermione couldn't think of words horrible enough to describe Malfoy. "You're sick! Perverted! You won't get away with this."

"Oh." He raised an eyebrow. "And what were you planning to do about it?"

She straightened her back and glared at him. "First of all, I'm going to get Harry away from you. And then..."

"And what are you going to do with him once you've gotten him away from me?"

"And then," she went on as if he hadn't spoken. "then I'm going to report you to the Ministry, because what you're doing is illegal and immoral and wrong, and I'll make sure you're punished for it."

Malfoy shrugged indifferently. "Forget me for a moment. What about Harry?"

"What about him?" She had no idea what Malfoy was trying to get at, but then again, he was a sick, twisted bastard, and she didn't expect to understand how his mind worked.

"Are you going to push him out on the battle field, like that manipulating piece of shit, Dumbledore has been doing to him ever since he was a child? Are you going to use him as a target? Or as a shield that all of you cowards can hide behind? And if Voldemort kills him, are you going to pat each other on the back, and talk about what a tragedy it is, but how it still was worth it in the long run?"

"Of course not!" His outburst had made Hermione feel offended and somehow dirty. She didn't know how to answer. "We'd let him choose for himself what he wants to do. Just like we always have. We wouldn't manipulate him like you're doing."

"Explain to me, Granger, how is guilt tripping him into sacrificing himself for your great and noble cause any less manipulative?" He took one of Harry's hands in both of his, and massaged it tenderly before lifting it to his lips and kissing each of the fingers. Harry sighed happily in his sleep. "At least I keep him safe," he said. "At least I won't get him killed."

That was enough of being civil, Hermione decided. She reached into her pocket for her wand. Malfoy's wand was still on the coffee table where he had left it, and with Harry in his lap, there was no chance he would reach it before she had stunned him. He didn't even make a move to try, and...

She couldn't find her wand. She looked in the other pocket. It was gone!

"Looking for this?" Malfoy was smirking and waving her wand lazily.

How...?

He must have stolen it when she was helping him drag Harry inside.

"You sick, manipulating, stealing bastard," she snarled. "If you harm me, you'll regret it!"

"I have no intention of harming you." He placed a pillow under Harry's head, before rising from the couch. The calculated tenderness of that gesture made the way he moved towards her seem even more threatening. He picked up his own wand from the table, and then he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Tell me, Granger, how much do you think you'll remember of this little visit?"

"No, don't..." She tried to twist out of his grip.

"Oh, don't worry. It won't hurt a bit. Maybe I can even give you a nice memory. Wouldn't you like that? Any requests?"

"I hope you realise that one day Harry will break free from your pitiful little spells. And he'll hate you, and he'll make sure you get what you deserve."

"No requests? Well, I didn't really think so. But I'm sure your mind will supply something pretty. But first... I'm sorry about this but I don't want you to fight. Imperio!"

And suddenly her mind went blank. It felt pleasant. She had been worried and angry, but now all of that was gone. Everything was peaceful.

"Here. Hold this," someone said. This turned out to be her wand, and she was happy to take it. Happy to obey the voice. Someone - that same voice? - was saying things. It sounded like a spell, but she didn't really care. It wasn't a command, and she was content just to float around in that nice blank space that was her mind.

"Now, get away from here," the voice said, and she looked around for the door. "No no," the voice chastised her. "Disapparate. Go back to wherever you came from."

She flicked her wand. "Apparate!"

***

When Hermione appeared in her office, Ron was there, waiting for her. He was standing beside her desk, looking at the notes she had made just before she left.

"Searching for Harry again?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I take it you didn't find him."

"No..." She shook her head. Why was she feeling so fuzzy? "No, the wards I found must have been old. There was an old couple living in the house now." Something about that felt wrong, but she ignored the feeling. It was fading anyway, and her mind was becoming clearer. "They were really sweet people, though. The man was almost deaf, and his wife had to yell in his ear every time she wanted to talk to him. And then he yelled back, and she kept joking that it was going to make her go deaf as well." Yes, that was it. She remembered them clearly now, remembered the warmth and love she had sensed in that home. "They offered me tea, and refused to let me leave until they had showed me pictures of their grandchildren."

"Well, I'm happy you had a nice time," Ron said. He didn't sound happy. But he didn't sound sarcastic, either, which she would have expected. He sounded sad.

A cold lump settled in Hermione's stomach. "What is it?" she asked.

"Hermione, I have bad news. Voldemort has taken Hogsmeade."

***

Harry woke up a few hours after Granger had left. Draco kissed him lightly the moment he opened his eyes, knowing that Harry would need the closeness. Harry smiled sleepily at him, then flew up from the couch.

"Draco... I... What happened?"

"Shhh..." Draco put his arms around Harry and stroked his back in the way he knew Harry found soothing. "You passed out, that's all."

"Passed out?" Harry pulled back. He stared at Draco for a few seconds. Then he rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. "I dreamed... I think. It must have been a dream. Hermione was here. And she was telling me Voldemort wasn't dead at all."

"It was just a dream, Harry," Draco whispered, pulling him close again. Harry leaned into his embrace.

"But it felt so real."

"It was a dream, and it's gone now, and dreams can't hurt you anyway, and even if they could, I would protect you." Draco knew he was babbling, but he couldn't help it. The spells weren't working as well as they used to. Harry shouldn't have been able to remember Hermione's visit at all. Draco hugged him even closer. He wasn't going to let Harry go. Never. No matter what Granger said. Harry wasn't going to remember and start hating Draco. It wasn't going to happen. And even if it did, Draco still wouldn't let Harry go, wouldn't let him die in someone else's war. He tightened his hold on Harry even more.

"You're strangling me," Harry said, but he didn't seem to mind because he was laughing a little. Draco didn't loosen his grip.

"I just want to keep you safe," he tried to explain, even though he knew Harry wouldn't understand what he meant. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Just stay here with me, and I promise you, you'll be safe. Don't ever leave me."

Harry laughed softly. "What's come over you? Why would I leave you? Where would I go?"

"I just love you so much," Draco said, pretending he hadn't heard the slight hint of bitterness in Harry's voice.