On Different Sides

On Different Sides

Chapter Three

"All pain is a punishment, and every punishment is inflicted for love as much as for justice."

-Joseph De Maistre

"And time has been spread so thin and it's just hours till the day begins. And the things that are keeping you here are not keeping me here and the things that are keeping you here will keep me away."

-Dashboard Confessional

For the first time Harry could remember, he was late for work. Not that it mattered overly much. The Home was well-staffed, and he honestly wasn't needed in the mornings. That his presence wasn't necessary made little difference to him, however. He made a point of it to be at the school and in the dining hall before the children headed off to their classes. They had very little sense of normalcy in their lives, and he wanted to be a part of what they did get.

His mood was black as he entered the staff wing. Bloody Malfoy. Since Draco's return, Harry had gotten little to no sleep. He blamed the tardiness on his insomnia. Two weeks: Malfoy had been back in his world for two weeks, and Harry had had not so much as a sighting. He wasn't sure what he had expected from the man, but his lack of doing...well, anything really...irritated Harry. There was a part of him that wanted to get the whole thing over with. To see Malfoy, tell him to sod off, and get on with his life.

As usual, though, Draco was not cooperating with Harry's plans. He should have expected as much. According to Hermione, he had stayed relatively holed up in The Manor upon his return. If anything changed, she had said, she would let him know. He was grateful for that, though at the same time he was abashed that she felt she had to report anything she learned on Malfoy's activities to him. Not that he would stop her from doing so. There was a part of him he could not suppress that wanted to know.

His frown deepened as he reached the antechamber to his office and stopped short. "Arthur."

Arthur Weasley smiled tiredly and strode forward to shake Harry's hand. "Hello, Harry."

Harry smiled in return. "What brings you to The Home? Is everything ok at The Burrow?" he asked in concern.

The older wizard nodded. "Everything's fine, Harry. I'm afraid I'm here on business."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. What business did The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department have with an orphanage? "Business?"

Arthur nodded again. "If you're willing, I've brought a new charge for you. The Ministry thought I should be the one to accompany her, given my relationship with you. And with Ginny, of course."

Harry nodded in understanding and smiled as Arthur retrieved a file folder from his weathered satchel. He took it as it was proffered to him. "Why wouldn't I be willing?" he asked, flipping the file open to scan its contents.

"It's something of a special case," Arthur explained, and Harry nodded absentmindedly, already caught up in the file.

Kiera Jacobson, aged three. Lost both parents in an auto accident, and..."Muggle?" Harry looked to Arthur.

"Yes. Her name's down at Hogwarts, but neither of her parents were aware that their daughter was a witch. Of course, the letter she would have received when she was of age would have explained everything..." he trailed off.

"Of course," Harry agreed. "No family to speak of?"

"None that want her," Arthur affirmed. "The Ministry decided to step in before she was packed off to a Muggle home. They feel she would be better served were she raised in a wizarding environment. Plus, it would save a lot of paperwork and handling when it comes time for her to go to Hogwarts."

Harry nodded again. "That makes sense." He closed the folder and smiled. "Of course she's welcome here." He looked around. "Erm, where is she?"

Arthur grinned. "In your office, with Ginny. She's rather...stubborn. It's been less than a week since she lost her parents, and given her age, I doubt she fully understands. Ginny's trying to explain things to her," he chuckled. Harry didn't quite see the humour, but smiled anyway.

"Right then, I'll just go in, shall I?"

Arthur smiled and shook Harry's hand again. "I'll be off then. Come 'round the Burrow with Ginny soon. It's been too long."

Harry's smile faltered. "Yes, erm, we will as soon as we can."

"See that you do, Harry." Arthur said firmly. "You've both let this go on for far too long." With that last admonition, the older wizard took his leave. Harry sighed. He was infinitely glad that Arthur had stayed out of the feud with Molly, but it made things more difficult. He shook his head and opened the door to his office.

Ginny, kneeling on the floor before a chair that held a very small, very defiant-looking little girl, looked up and smiled.

"Kiera, this is the man I was telling you about. You can call him Harry," she said gently. "Harry, this is Kiera."

The little girl scowled at him. He smiled brightly. "Hello, Kiera."

Kiera kept scowling.

Ginny stood up. "Right. I'll just let you two get acquainted." She started to leave, whispering "good luck" to Harry as she passed him.

Harry walked to his desk and leaned on it. Kiera's scowl had changed into a full-blown glare. They studied one another for a minute. She looked small for her age, and far too thin. Her wide blue eyes seemed entirely too big for her face, even narrowed at him as they were. Her hair was light brown, and divided into two plaits that fell well below her shoulders. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, finished off with a pair of white trainers, which were currently swinging back and forth against the seat of her chair.

"Going home," she suddenly blurted, and Harry's heart tightened. He smiled sadly.

"I was hoping you would stay with us for a while."

She shook her head vehemently. "No. Want home."

"I know you do, angel," he said kindly.

She crossed her arms in front of her. "Mummy's coming soon," she explained, eyes widening and filling up.

Harry wanted to go to her, but had a feeling that would not go over well. How did you explain to a toddler that their mother would never be coming back? It was the worst part of his job. Kiera simply was not at an age where she could fully understand what had happened to her. So, he nodded.

"Would you like to stay here while you wait?" he asked. "With me, and Ginny?"

She looked around his office for a minute and then shook her head. "No."

"Don't you like Ginny?"

She considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Her's good," she said, very seriously.

Harry had to grin at that. "Yes, she is." He walked very slowly to Kiera's chair, and kneeled down at eye level. "She would be very sad if you wanted to go away."

The child's lower lip trembled. "Want to go home," she whispered, looking down at her hands.

"I know you do, angel," Harry repeated, taking her small hands in his, and wishing he could do that for her. But even the hero of the wizarding world had limitations; the best he could offer her was a new home and copious amounts of love within it. However, he couldn't explain that to her in any way that she would understand. "But I would be so happy if you could stay with us for a while." He very much doubted his happiness mattered to her but wasn't beyond working the guilt angle. "I don't like being sad."

Kiera was nodding.

"Would you like to come with me? I'll show you the great big room you'll have, with your very own bed, and you can meet some other little girls who are just like you. Just for now, of course." He hated the lie, but it was the best he could do. Hopefully, given a little time, she would settle in.

She thought about this for a minute. "'K," she said. "For now."

Harry beamed at her and stood up, offering her his hand. She reluctantly took it and wormed her way down from the chair.

He walked with her slowly through the halls, pausing here and there so she could take a look around. She may not have wanted to be there, but she was three, and very curious. They made their way up a flight of stairs and to the girls' dormitory, where Ginny was waiting for them.

"Decided to stay, have you?" she asked with a smile.

Kiera nodded solemnly. "For now."

Ginny quirked a brow at Harry, but he only shook his head. He'd explain it to her later. Kiera worked her hand out of Harry's grasp and walked over to a wall. The décor of the room was similar to that of the boys'. There were fields of flowers painted on the walls, seeming to move in a light breeze. Hundreds of fairies flitted from flower to flower, glowing gently against the light blue background. As with the boys' quarters, this was so the younger children had the comfort of light at night. Kiera raised a hand and ran it along the wall, staring at it. She turned and looked to Harry in question.

He smiled. "It's magic," he explained and her mouth worked into an "o" of surprise. She nodded, accepting it readily, and made her way to a bed.

"Kiera's bed?" she asked and he shook his head.

"No, angel, that bed is Emma's You'll meet her soon enough." He took her hand in his again and made his way to the end of the row. The bed there was actually assigned to a girl named Audrey, but she was away at Hogwarts for the majority of the year. It would do for the time being. When Audrey returned for Christmas, he would have another bed ready for her.

"This is your bed," he smiled down at her and she clambered up onto it, with a little help from Ginny. She sat down heavily in the middle of it and looked around. While she was preoccupied, Harry turned to Ginny to ask, "Where are her belongings?"

Ginny frowned. "She doesn't have any. The Ministry was so intent on getting her here that they didn't stop to think about anything that insignificant," she explained, tone frosty. "She's wearing everything she brought with her."

Harry scowled at this. "We'll have to get her clothes then, and a toy or two she can call her own."

Ginny nodded. "I can run out tomorrow."

Harry shook his head. "Can't you go today?"

"I can't. With Mrs. Hughes away, I have to be here to mind the children. She'll be back tomorrow morning, though. She owled this morning." Adrienne Hughes was the Governess of The Home. She had left two days prior to go visit a sister who had fallen suddenly ill.

"Sit down, Kiera. We can't have you getting hurt," Harry said to the girl, who was now enthusiastically jumping on the bed. Amazing how quickly children recovered. Kiera frowned at him, but sat down. "I suppose I could run to Sara's," he said to Ginny, when he was certain Kiera wasn't about to give herself a head injury.

"She'd be fine in one of the other girls' robes for the time being, at least to sleep in," Ginny pointed out.

"No," Harry said. "I want her to have her own things as soon as we can get them for her."

Ginny nodded. "It'll have to be you, then. Sara will be happy to see you, anyway. She asked me why you never visit anymore the last time I was there."

Harry chuckled. "Of course she did. You'd think running this place afforded me plenty of visiting time. Kiera, sit up." The child was hanging her head over the edge of the bed, apparently trying to see underneath. She obviously didn't realize she was far too short for that. She wriggled back onto the bed and pouted; probably thinking that Harry was no fun at all.

Ginny smiled fondly at Kiera. "Right, I'll just take her down to the nursery, then?"

Harry nodded. "As soon as I get caught up, I'll head to the Alley. I'd like to be back before dinner." He'd already missed breakfast with the children, and would more than likely be missing lunch as well. He didn't want to miss all their meals in one day.

Ginny was busy wrangling Kiera off of her bed, but called over her shoulder, "Okay, we'll see you then!" as Harry was leaving the room. He chuckled and headed back to his office.

~*~

Harry hated going to Diagon Alley for anything, and cursed the moment he walked through the portal entering it. There were always too many people milling about, too many eyes upon him. Even with the hood of his cloak pulled forward over his face he could feel the stares. It nearly made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He kept his eyes forward and hurried through the alley toward his goal.

Wheaton's Wizardling Wear was a fairly new shop to the alley, only open for five years or so. A former Auror, Sara Wheaton, ran it. Harry had met her in his days with the Aurors and had grown very fond of her. She was one of the "old crowd", as Dumbledore had termed them, and had seen much in her lifetime. After the end of the last war, she had thrown in the towel and decided to go into a more pacifistic business - something that could spread a little joy, as she'd once told him.

Her shop catered to small children too young for Hogwarts and sold a variety of clothing, both Muggle and Wizarding, as well as items such as toys. When she had first opened, Harry had found the shop ideal for the needs of The Home, especially given the discount Sara gave him.

Arriving at the shop, he pushed the door open and pulled his hood back.

"Hello, Harry," the old witch called from behind the counter and smiled warmly as he walked in.

"Hello, Sara. How's business?" he replied as he walked toward the counter.

She shrugged, her smile never faltering. "Slow these days. But it's to be expected, what with all the children back at school. Parents seem to like lumping all their shopping together." She chuckled. "Don't worry yourself, I'm eating well."

He grinned. Sara Wheaton was rail thin. She looked as though a strong wind would plow her over and send her tumbling heels over hat down the alley. He didn't voice this opinion, however. The old witch was thin, but he knew from experience that she was strong. Beyond that, though, she was supremely kind and giving and he didn't want to offend her. She absentmindedly brushed a lock of silver hair from her face, knocking her hat askew in the process.

"What brings you in today?"

Harry leaned on the counter and grinned broadly. "The stork."

She blinked and frowned before comprehension dawned. "Oh no, another?"

He nodded. "Afraid so. The good news being that, for once, she's not a casualty of the war. Muggle-born. Lost both parents in a car accident a few days ago. No family to speak of, Muggle or magical. So, the Ministry brought her to The Home."

She nodded. "That is good news, relatively speaking. Poor little lamb," she shook her head and tsked. "How old is the darling?"

Harry reflected upon his meeting with the 'darling' and chuckled. "Three. And she's very good at it."

"Harry Potter, you be kind about the child. She's most likely been through a lot."

Harry held up his hands defensively. "I was joking, Sara." She harrumphed but held her tongue. "Anyway, she was essentially brought in with only the clothes she was wearing, and those will hardly do. I rather think she grew a few inches while sitting in my office. Can you help me with a new wardrobe?"

The witch stroked her chin. "Of course I can." Her eyes swung to a large clock mounted on the far wall before coming back to him. "But, I'm late for an appointment."

Harry felt his face fall. He hated the thought of Kiera being stuck in the same garments for more than a single day.

"Though," Sara smiled, "you seem like a trustworthy young man." Here, she winked at him and he had to repress a laugh. "Why don't you stay here and pick out what you need? Leave it here on the counter, and I'll be sure to tally it up and owl it to you later today."

"Erm, you're sure you don't mind?"

She patted his hand kindly. "Not in the least." She smiled again and came out from behind the counter, heading for the door. She paused at the entrance and removed her cloak from a hook. "Take your time, Harry. If you finish before I get back, lock up." With another wink, she left.

Harry chuckled to himself and set about wandering through the shop. He was at a loss as to what to get for Kiera. He had a hard enough time dressing himself, as Ginny was so frequently pointing out. With his luck, he'd most likely select a bunch of things at which Ginny would only turn up her nose, and right back to the shop they would go. He shook his head and shrugged. Oh well, it served her right for abandoning him.

He walked to a wall lined with robes in a multitude of colours and fabrics. He ran his fingers along them in rapid succession. What was a good fabric for a three-year-old? Velvet was right out. He'd had more than enough experience with little hands and all the substances they were forever getting coated with. It never ceased to amaze him. He'd had to toss his favourite set of robes in the rubbish bin after finding a handprint that appeared to be made of a mixture of molasses and glue, and something vaguely resembling glitter on them. He hadn't been aware The Home even stocked molasses. He chuckled to himself. If he didn't know better, he'd think things like that materialised from thin air to aid in the children's mischief.

"I'll admit some of those robes are ridiculously horrid, but I hardly think they're amusing."

Harry stiffened. He hadn't heard that drawl in more years than he cared to think about. He wasn't ready to be hearing it at all. He closed his eyes against the sudden tightening in his chest and took a deep breath. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

A soft chuckle. "You to turn around, to start."

Harry wasn't so sure that was a good idea. He didn't open his eyes, only concentrated on breathing and fighting the slew of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. Finally, he spoke once more, voice barely a whisper. "You're late." As soon as the words escaped him, he mentally kicked himself. He did not want to show any sort of emotion.

For a long minute there was nothing but silence. When Draco responded, his tone matched Harry's. "I know." Then, with an audible catch in his voice: "Turn around, Harry."

Harry didn't know if he could do that. His feet felt like blocks of granite. Perhaps, he thought, if he didn't turn around, Malfoy would go away. Cue Annoying Voice: Yes! And perhaps if you click your heels three times you'll get to visit Kansas! It was incredibly humiliating to be mocked by one's own conscience, especially when said conscience was right. It was, in point of fact, bloody irritating. Harry opened his eyes and slowly turned around, vowing that he would not give Malfoy any sort of reaction.

And promptly sucked in a breath.

The other man was standing roughly five feet away, leaning casually on the beaten counter. He had one brow raised, his amusement evident. He looked...good. The face that once had been almost wraithlike in its delicacy had filled out somewhat in manhood. Framed by white-blond hair that fell just short of a chin that was broader than Harry remembered it, it was most definitely no longer the face of the boy he had thought he'd known. He of course looked older, but there was something else in his face that Harry couldn't put a name to. He looked weathered, and beaten. It was strange; it was and was not, simultaneously, a look that fit Draco Malfoy.

He was impeccably dressed of course, and Harry almost smiled at how some things never changed. Dressed in black from head to toe, he looked every inch the aristocrat that he was. Harry was surprised to see that the ensemble did not include robes. Instead, he was clothed in trousers and a turtleneck - simple and understated, but chic. And Muggle. Harry's brows knit in confusion, eliciting another chuckle from the man opposite him. Harry's hackles rose immediately.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked again, his irritation evident. The grin faltered, then faded completely from the other man's face.

Draco straightened up, standing regally: the wayward prince out among the commoners. "What makes you think I want anything?"

Harry snorted. "Your presence."

Malfoy nodded curtly. "I saw you through the window and thought I'd come say hello to an old friend."

Harry had to use every ounce of control he possessed not to gape at the man. "You...what?"

"I'm saying hello," Draco repeated, drawing out each word in a tone most people reserved for very slow children.

"Oh...well...yes...hello," Harry stammered, caught completely off guard. He wasn't certain what he had been expecting were he to see Draco, but inane pleasantries had most certainly not been on the list. He wasn't in the mood. "And goodbye," he said curtly, turning his attention back to the robes in what was obviously a dismissal.

He heard Malfoy sigh in exasperation. "Harry," he said, voice weary.

Harry swung around once more, knowing his irritation was obvious and not caring in the slightest. "What?"

"I'm not asking for a kiss hello, I only want to talk."

Harry couldn't help it. He gaped. "A...what?"

"Talk." Draco repeated, using the same patronizing tone. "You know - I say something, then you say something. Look, we're doing it now!" he said cheerfully. "Okay, now you go."

Harry was torn between banging his head on the counter and beating Draco's against it. The man had been back in Harry's reality mere minutes, and already was driving him daft. It wasn't promising. He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed tiredly at his temples. Without removing it, he said, "You want to talk."

Draco tsked. "We're going in circles, Harry."

The hand fell and Harry looked at Draco in disbelief. What was he playing at? "You come back after ten years from Merlin knows where and expect to just weasel your way into pleasant conversation?"

"Ferret."

Harry blinked. "Pardon?"

"Ferret would be more appropriate, no? I was the ferret," Draco reminded him. "Weasley was the weasel, though never literally, more's the pity. Some rodent time would have done him worlds of good." He titled his head slightly, apparently contemplating that thought.

Harry let out a growl of frustration. "Do not," he ground out, "bring up Ron. You never bothered to learn anything about him, you have no idea what would have been good for him."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Seems to me a modicum of understanding would have been good for him as well."

"Just...don't." Harry said again. "Don't talk about Ron. You're right, he never understood - "

"But you forgave him, didn't you?" Draco pointed out.

Harry gave a surprised shout of laughter, though he saw very little humour in the situation. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, really," Draco said lightly. "I figure if you can forgive one of your best friends for being, well, unfriendly toward you over who you are, then it may not be unthinkable that you could forgive me for one small mistake."

Rage washed over Harry instantaneously. How dare Malfoy tell him that so casually, as though he were asking for another watercress sandwich, if you please. "Small?" he seethed, striding toward Draco menacingly and forgetting his awkwardness in his anger. "You served me to your father like I was some sort of...of gift! You used me, and my affections, for your own purposes. You nearly got me killed! You did get Hagrid killed, you - "

Draco's hand slammed down on the counter, his own face darkening in fury, effectively silencing Harry. "I survived!" he shouted. Then, in a deadly calm voice, "And so, might I add, did you."

Harry laughed bitterly. "I did, didn't I? I lived with what you did to me. I live with that every day," he spat. "Have done ever since you ran off like the coward you are."

Draco's eyes narrowed, his mouth dropping open and slamming shut. "You told me to leave. I was merely following orders."

Harry could not believe what he was hearing. "You're good at that, aren't you?" he said venomously. "Was that what it was, Malfoy? Just following Daddy's orders, were you? How deep did it go? Were you instructed to get close to me, was that it?"

Draco's jaw was working furiously, but he didn't answer.

"Well, then! Let me consider this...." Harry rubbed his chin sarcastically, as though actually mulling it over. "I do have to ask, forgiveness for which sin? Convincing me that you loved me? I must say your act was quite believable, well done." Pause. "No? Perhaps for the resulting accomplishment of making me love you? How your father's cronies must have laughed at that. For the betrayal? For killing Hagrid? For nearly getting me killed?" he shot each offence off rapid fire, tapping his fingers in succession with each detail. "Or for failing your mission?"

Draco was staring at him.

"Believe me, Malfoy, that was by far your worst sin: leaving me to live with everything you'd done."

"Harry..." Draco's voice was choked.

Harry stepped closer. His voice softened. "Is that honestly why you've come back? To be forgiven?" Another step. He was inches now from Draco, who remained silent, eyes darkened almost to black and face drained of all colour. Another step.

Draco exhaled sharply. "I didn't say that. I'm back because I can be. I'm back because I said I wouldn't stay away forever. I made a promise, and regardless of what you believe to be true, I always keep my word. You remember what I said, I know you do, or you wouldn't have said I was late."

"Oh, I remember everything, Malfoy," Harry replied. "Every minute, every word, every lie." He ran his cheek along the line of Draco's, their skin a hair's breadth from touching. He let his breath out slowly as he moved from Draco's ear, along his jaw and to his lips. He continued to speak as he followed the trail he had wandered so many times before in a time so far gone it seemed dream-like. "You speak of forgiveness like it's something to be handed out lightly, like it's something you deserve. You ask for it as though it should be easy to give." One movement, one allowance on either part, would close the gap between them. Neither of them moved. Eyes boring into Draco's, Harry spoke whisper quiet, the word floating between them as soft as a caress.

"No."

Draco's eyes widened, and Harry retreated as the door to the alley opened and Sara returned from her errand. Harry turned on his heel and strode out of the shop, into the crowd of passers-by. He did not look back.

He wove his way through the crowd, seeing nothing and ducking into the first alley that he happened upon. He didn't know how long he stood there, only knew it was a long time before the shaking subsided.

~*~

"Wait," Ginny said as she exhaled loudly, turning from the sink and staring at Harry, dishtowel forgotten in her hands. "You just left him there?"

Harry grinned humourlessly from his seat at the small table. "Yeah."

She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and slung the towel over her shoulder. "I can't believe you did that, Harry."

"I can't believe you're sympathizing with him," he shot back.

"What? I'm not," she said, leaving the sink to sit down at the table across from him. "I just..." she trailed off.

"Can't believe I did that?" He supplied, hands reaching for a napkin and tearing randomly at the edges.

"Well, yes."

He sighed heavily. "Neither can I."

"To be honest," she said, reaching for his hands and stilling them. "I can't believe the whole thing happened."

He chuckled dryly. "Join the club." He removed a hand from under hers and ran it through his hair. "I was just so angry."

"Honestly, Harry, that's understandable," Ginny smiled sympathetically. "He's mad if he thinks he can just walk back into your life without so much as a by your leave."

"Should I have expected flowers first?" he quirked a brow at her and she snorted.

"Don't be such a ponce."

"In case you've forgotten, Gin, I am a ponce."

She snorted again. "As if I could forget."

A soft popping sound preceded a dry chuckle that cut off Harry's retort. "Hello, children."

Harry looked up and smiled. "Hello, old man."

"Sirius," Ginny smiled warmly and stood to hug the older wizard. "What brings you here?" she asked, ushering him to a chair and conjuring a cup of coffee for him. At Harry's raised brow, she grinned and summoned one for him and herself as well, before sitting down again. Harry reached for his mug and took a long sip.

"Word has it that Draco Malfoy was spotted in the Alley today, along with one Harry Potter."

Harry honestly did not intend to send coffee shooting from his nose upon hearing that, it just sort of happened. Sirius laughed happily and patted him on the back until the coughing subsided.

When Harry could draw a steady breath, he said, "My, word does travel fast."

"Cheer up, Harry, you had to be expecting it."

"Not when there is no way anyone could have spotted us together," Harry grumbled.

"True, the gossip did leave that bit out," Sirius confirmed lightly before his face became grave. "What happened?"

Harry told him everything that had happened, just as he had filled Ginny in over the dinner they'd recently finished. Sirius' scowl deepened as Harry's story went on, and when his son was finished, let out a deep growl that had been proven to send the weaker at heart diving for cover.

"That little..." Sirius broke off, obviously unable to find the right words.

Harry smiled dryly and met Ginny's eyes.

"Ferret," they supplied simultaneously.

Sirius only shook his head. "It's not funny."

"Well," Ginny said, looking only partially abashed, "it is a little." At his glare she sobered. "You're right Sirius, it's not funny. It's maddening and frustrating and completely unwarranted. But you know us," she smiled.

He nodded. "When in doubt, joke."

Harry grinned. "You can't fault us for the logic, old man. We were taught by the oldest and best."

"I resent that," Sirius grumbled, waving his mug at them for emphasis. He set it down heavily and added, "at least you did the right thing and sent the git packing."

"Ran away's more like it," Harry sighed.

"Come off it Harry, you can't be regretting how you handled him." Sirius stared at him for a moment. "Bloody hell, you are."

Harry had the grace to look embarrassed. Ginny came to his rescue immediately. "Honestly, Sirius, can you blame him for it?"

"Damned right I can," the older wizard groused. "Draco Malfoy has done nothing but cause you pain, Harry. I won't see you hurt like that again. I can't handle sitting idly by and watching you try to pick up the pieces again. I won't."

"I know what I'm doing," Harry said.

"Do you now? Sounds to me like you had no idea what you were doing today, and no idea what to be doing now. You saw him, you told him what you thought, and you left. Seems to me you should leave it at that."

"Like you did with Remus? Like he did with you?"

"That's not fair and you know it. He had every right to believe what he did of me."

"And you forgave each other," Harry pointed out. At Sirius' look, he held up a hand. "I'm not saying I'm forgiving him. I'm not saying anything of the sort. But the fact is the cases are similar. Remus was wrong about you."

"Be that as it may, Harry, do you honestly think you're wrong about Malfoy?"

Harry sighed heavily. "No. I have no doubt about what happened. But things were so uncertain then, for both of us. I can't say I blame him for trying to survive."

"Even though it could have cost you your life?" Sirius nearly shouted.

"I knew who he was, then, Sirius. He never pretended to be anything but a Malfoy. I knew what I was getting into, I knew the risks. You can't blame him for my judgements."

"No, and I don't. I don't blame you, either, for the record. But you're older now, Harry, and wiser, one can only hope. Do you really want to risk all that again?"

Harry didn't have an answer for that.

"Maybe he doesn't have a choice," Ginny offered. Both wizards turned to look at her, startled. Harry had almost forgotten she was there; she'd been so quiet. She avoided looking at them, choosing instead to study the contents of her mug. "Sirius, you weren't there, back at school, and that's not your fault. You never saw them together. I did. There's something there, and there always has been. The way things were left was unfinished at best. I know Harry's spouted the same tripe over the last ten years about being through with the whole thing, but we both know that's not the case."

She looked up then, almost apologetically, at Harry, who was staring at her as though she'd just sprouted a second head.

"Oh stop that," she admonished. "You'd think you've forgotten just how well I know you. You want to know, Harry. You as much as admitted it the night of the Gala. You want it finished, whatever that end may be. You were caught off guard today, and now you're kicking yourself for handling Draco the way you did. Deny it, I dare you."

Harry knew better.

"If you want my opinion," she said but Harry cut her off.

"I'll be getting it whether I want it or not," he grumbled.

"Yes, you will. So shut it and hear me out. You did the right thing today. Perhaps you could have gone about it a different way, but you did what you did and that's that. Malfoy has no right to saunter back into your life and want to pick back up where you left off. You deserve better than that and if he's honest with himself he knows it. You ask me, and I think he was as caught off guard by seeing you as you were seeing him."

Harry only shrugged.

"You're upset. Let me make sure I understand here, you're upset about what you said?" Sirius asked, his astonishment evident.

"I am," Harry replied. "But make no mistake, Sirius, I'm bloody furious as well. Ten years is a long time to be angry, it doesn't just go away because he still looks good and can make a funny."

"So, what exactly are you going to do, then?"

"It's his move. If he really wants to set things right between us, he'll have to come to me, knowing I probably won't let things even get that far. I don't know that I can forgive him what he's done. I was sentimental the night of the Gala, Gin," he said, turning to face her. "I'd be lying if I said I haven't missed him over the years, if I said I don't still love him. I do. But I can't overlook what he's done just like that. Just the sight of him pissed me off."

She reached for his hand. "I never said you had to."

Sirius reached forward and covered Harry's and Ginny's hands with his own. "I don't understand it, Harry, and I sure as hell don't like it. But you're an adult now. As much as I would prefer to ground you and forbid it, you do what you think is right."

Harry smiled humourlessly. "Good. Now someone tell me exactly what 'right' is."

~*~

Another day, another sleepless night. Harry sighed and rolled over on his mattress, burying his head in his pillow and growling in frustration. He really needed to do something about this insomnia problem. And the Malfoy problem.

Who knows? Maybe you took care of that little problem today.

Harry snorted to himself. Right. If there was anything Malfoy loved more than himself, it was a challenge. Harry had played right into the other man's hands with his little display at the shop that afternoon. No, he had no doubt he'd be seeing Malfoy again. It was simply a question of when.

Another pertinent question, of course, was what Harry would do when the time came. Knowing Malfoy as he did, he was fully aware that the git had a plan all worked out for every move he would make in the dance they were choreographing. He'd be damned if he'd let Malfoy catch him off guard again.

Of course, before he could decide anything about that he had to figure out exactly what he wanted the end result of the game to be.

What did he want?

He rolled over again and stared at the ceiling.

He had no idea.

Draco had made it clear that he'd wanted forgiveness. But was that all he wanted? Was Ginny right? Did he want to pick things up where they'd left off?

Lovely place to pick back up, The Voice piped up, in the middle of pain and betrayal. Do you really think he wants to go there again? Do you?

If he knew that, Harry mused, he wouldn't be having trouble sleeping. Well, less trouble, anyway.

He'd meant what he'd said earlier. In his less sane moments, there were times he did miss Malfoy. And he did still love him. He knew that that one thing would probably never change. He didn't date now because no other man, magical or Muggle, could ever be Draco Malfoy. He could be that honest with himself.

But was love enough? It hadn't been ten years ago. He wasn't certain it could be now. Could he overlook all the things Malfoy had done? Could he just pretend it hadn't happened?

He sighed. He knew he couldn't. Bloody Gryffindor nobility rearing its ugly head, Malfoy would say. He hated to admit it, but Malfoy was apparently right on one score: if he was willing to go back to being one half of Harry and Draco, he would have to find a way to forgive the other half. It all lay in that one thing.

It wasn't so much that he had nearly gotten Harry killed. It wasn't that at all, really. No, it was something else entirely. Two things, really. Malfoy was the sole reason Hagrid had not lived to see the end of the war. Malfoy had known exactly what Rubeus Hagrid had meant to Harry. Though Harry knew Hagrid wasn't the reason he had been pulled from the Dursleys' home and into a new life where for once he actually fit in, he had always looked at the giant of a man as his saviour, as silly as it seemed. It was Hagrid who had come to the hut so many years before, Hagrid who had first taken him to the Alley, Hagrid who had always made sure Harry was all right. Hagrid had been the first parental-figure (as strange as he had been) that Harry had ever known.

Malfoy had robbed him of that.

Harry rolled over once more, closing his eyes against the pain that still washed over him at the feeling of loss. Malfoy had taken so much from him with that one act of betrayal. A betrayal, of course, that was the other thing that got to Harry. Malfoy had used Harry's love against him and thrown it back in his face. And for what? As with all diabolical schemes, it had gone terribly wrong and ended up biting its creator in the arse.

No one knew for sure exactly what had happened to Lucius Malfoy, but Harry was convinced that his disappearance had everything to do with his failure to deliver Harry to his Lord and Master. Voldemort had not been an entity to fail in any way. Even the least intelligent of his minions had known that small fact. Lucius Malfoy had been anything but unintelligent. He had been calculating and cold. Just like he had trained his son to be.

And yet, there were so many times when Harry and Draco were alone together, or with Ginny, that Draco had been anything but. His actions and words had done nothing but demonstrate that he had decided to be his own man, on his own terms. Harry had been certain that the man Malfoy would become would be one of note.

How wrong he'd been. Harry shook his head against the soft cotton of his pillowcase. Which act had been the façade? He chuckled to himself, would the real Draco Malfoy please stand up? It would make Harry's life much easier if it were that simple.

It wasn't that simple, though, as few things in Harry's life ever were. If it were easy, he could close his eyes and choose to forgive the man for everything he had done. But Harry knew that that was not a possibility.

You love him.

Harry frowned. He'd already admitted as much. But the nagging question kept making itself heard: Is love enough?

He balled his hands into fists and let out a long, heavy sigh. He knew the answer; he just didn't want to admit it. Admitting it would dash any hope that he could somehow get the happy ending that is every hero's due.

Was love enough?

He closed his eyes and rubbed at them with the heels of his hands. He couldn't hide from the answer that was screaming to be acknowledged. Ask again, it whispered in his head. Ask again.

Was love enough?

Not even close.