Love's Trigger, Part One
This was what I wrote for last year's Smoochfest :)
Love's Trigger, Part One
Draco opened the front door, shaking out his robes. He could have used an Imperturbable Charm, but the rain felt
good trickling down his face. It fit his mood perfectly. He frowned, closing the door behind him. Where was Harry? He
was doing this whole stupid thing for that git anyway, and he’d said he would be home to show Draco the exact forms of
the herbs he needed. Draco’s work as a potionist was already extraordinary, and Harry didn’t hesitate to turn to him to ask
for some special Healing potions and quick-brewing ideas. Draco had started the entire quick-brew revolution, in fact.
With a slight smile at the thought of how pleased Harry would be with all this, Draco took another step towards the
kitchen. His smile slid away as he heard voices. Hermione. He sighed. His partner - of course, Harry had to call her in
on this favour, too. He squelched toward the kitchen door, putting his hand on it - and then froze.
“-don’t know what to do.” Harry sounded weary, resigned, and completely in pain.
“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to work with him, too.” Hermione sounded worried. “I don’t know why you never listen
to me.”
“I listened. But I couldn’t - gods, Hermione, I can’t help it. Every day it gets worse. I thought it would be good, that
it would let me see him in a more professional way, you know? But all it does is make me want him more.” Now the
anguish came through, and Draco backed away.
What the hell? What was Harry talking about? Draco grabbed his head with his hands, anger, betrayal, and
something which might have been jealousy swirling around in him. Just that morning, minutes before Draco left to go to his
lab on a Saturday, for Merlin’s sake, Harry had smiled at him. “I think I’m closer to you than anyone else.” He had blushed,
like he always did when admitting something important to him, and Draco had felt a warmth fill him.
“You’re just saying that so I don’t mind working overtime,” he’d replied, trying to keep the brilliant smile from his face.
Harry’d smirked. “Maybe.” But as Draco turned away, he’d caught the edge of a look - a typical Harry look which
said that there was so much more to it.
And now, now, Harry had the nerve to sit in their kitchen and tell Hermione that there was someone out there he
wanted - someone he’d never mentioned to Draco. Closer to me than anyone, my arse!
Draco couldn’t believe how upset he was, and he worked to calm himself down. Malfoys didn’t have emotional
displays like this. If Harry wanted to lie to him, to act like Draco was more important than he actually was, then so be it.
At least now Draco knew the truth.
For some reason, Draco had a hard time taking a deep breath, and he struggled to breathe normally. There had to be
a good reason Harry’d never told Draco about this mystery man - this mystery man he worked with, for gods’ sake,
Draco remembered. It couldn’t have anything to do with Harry being gay, could it? Surely not. Draco had made it clear to
Harry that he didn’t mind his sexual preferences. He teased him about men all the time - pointing out various specimens
when they went out for their weekly dinners.
Draco paced a bit, trying to be rational. Maybe it was someone Draco hated? He wracked his brain, trying to recall if
anyone he despised worked at St. Mungo’s. That idiot Smith had worked there a couple of years before, but then he’d
given it up and changed to flobberworm studies, or something similarly asinine. “Gods, why wouldn’t he tell me this?”
Draco muttered. It had to be Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw from their year. Harry had mentioned that Boot had suddenly
pledged his support to Harry’s Healing Potions Project. “Shit.” Draco had nothing against Boot personally, but still -
Suddenly, the kitchen door creaked open and Hermione peeked through. “Draco?”
“Good afternoon, Granger,” he said, smoothing his face into its usual mask. “Potter said he had specifications for us
- did you get them?”
She frowned, like something in his tone bothered her, but she didn’t respond other than to shake her head.
“Draco?” Harry gently moved Hermione aside and left the kitchen. His smile lit up his face, almost hiding the pain in his
eyes - the pain he hides from me, Draco reminded himself, his stomach clenching. Shit! Why wouldn’t Harry tell him
about this?
“I didn’t hear you Floo in -”
“I walked. Anyway, is it ready?”
Harry hesitated, searching Draco’s eyes. “Is anything wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong? You know how much I love working on the weekend.” Draco glanced away at the
flicker of hurt on Harry’s face. “I’m just tired, Potter. Do you have the list?” He held out his hand, deliberately avoiding
Harry’s eyes this time.
“I’ll get it,” Harry said. “I’m sorry, by the way. You said you didn’t mind taking this project on the side - I wasn’t
thinking. I shouldn’t have asked.” Now he sounded defeated, on top of everything else.
Draco sighed. No matter why Harry had deliberately misled him, Draco couldn’t find it in himself to kick him when he
was down. “It’s not a problem, Harry. Okay? Just give me the list and we’ll get to work. We almost finished anyway, as
I’m sure Granger has told you.”
Hermione gathered her cloak. “I don’t really want to walk,” she whispered, as Harry went into the other room.
“We can Floo. I just wanted to feel the rain earlier. Now I just want to get this over with.”
She frowned again. “I thought you were excited about this -”
Draco turned to her, biting down on the sudden rush of anger. “It’s fine. Can we just drop it now?”
She blinked, startled. “Of course.” She put on her cloak and grabbed some Floo powder, waiting by the fireplace.
Draco sighed. He’d agreed to work with Hermione three years ago because he knew how intelligent she was and how
much she loved to research. He’d expected to earn her respect; he’d never guessed they’d become friends - not that he
let many people know that, of course.
Harry came back then, parchment in his hand. “It was in the spare room,” he said. “I should’ve just -”
Draco cut him off. “It’s fine.” How many times had he said that now? “We should go.”
“When will you be home?” Harry asked, then grimaced. “Sorry. I guess since you’re doing me the favour, whenever
you get here is: fine.”
“It’ll be late,” Draco said. “Don’t wait for me.”
Harry nodded, disappointment flashing across his face before he pulled on a determined smile. “Thanks.”
Draco gave a curt nod and joined Hermione by the fireplace. “Shall we?” he asked her.
She tossed in the powder. “Malfoy-Granger lab,” she called out. Draco followed her, not looking back to Harry, though
he could feel his green-eyed gaze on his back.
***
That evening, Draco sneaked through the front door, hoping Harry was already in bed. Draco was cross and annoyed,
and worst of all, a burning hurt had permeated everything. He hadn’t realised until that day how much it meant to him to be
close to Harry - to be closer than anyone else: hadn’t realised it until it was no longer true. If it ever had been, he
thought with a sigh.
The flat was dark, a good sign that Harry was asleep. Draco moved quietly, so familiar with his home of almost three
years that he didn’t need even a Lumos from his wand. He slipped off his shoes, hung up his cloak, and dropped his files
on the hall table. He was hungry, but he didn’t bother to swing through the kitchen. Instead, he walked down the hallway,
past the living room, past Harry’s room, and into his own. With relief, he pulled off his robes and took off his trousers,
sitting on his bed in only his underpants. Gods, what a day.
Hermione hadn’t stopped bugging him about what was wrong all afternoon. The first potion had gone horribly wrong
and blown up all over the lab, a mistake he hadn’t made since finishing his NEWTs. He felt pummelled.
“Draco?”
Well, shit. Draco lifted his head from his hands. “What?”
“Did you get dinner?” Harry shifted his weight in the doorway, and Draco saw the outdoor lights reflected on Harry’s
glasses. He wore a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, and his hair was messy, as always.
“Not hungry,” Draco lied, looking away.
“Hermione Owled me and said -”
“Harry, just leave it. Can you do that?” Draco couldn’t keep the irritation or hurt from his voice.
“But -”
“Gods, Potter! Leave me the fuck alone! Just bloody fuck off already!” Draco waved his hand and his door shut in
Harry’s face, one of the few wandless spells he’d learned while living here. After a few seconds, he heard Harry’s shuffling
steps move away, and he sighed. Maybe everyone had been right and living together wasn’t a good idea. But when they’d
become friends through the horror of the final battle and the months following, Draco had been nothing but thrilled when
Harry suggested it. They’d got along better than anyone thought, and up until now, Draco had been happy.
Maybe too happy, really. His time with Harry fulfilled him enough that he kept putting off his commitment to Pansy.
They’d been almost-engaged for a couple of years now, but he’d never felt the need to make it official. And Harry wasn’t
much better - at least until now. Apparently, Harry was in love - seriously in love with some bloke - probably Terry
sodding Boot - and he hadn’t even bothered to tell Draco about it.
The anger surged again, and Draco leaned back on his bed, clenching his teeth. He was an idiot. Taking deep
breaths, Draco managed to calm down - when a strange sound startled him. Breaking glass? Draco sat up, suddenly
cautious.
“Harry?” He got up and opened the door, listening.
Silence. Creeping past Harry’s room, where the door was wide open, Draco headed into the living room and saw light
coming from under the kitchen door. “Harry?”
Wand in hand, Draco moved to the door, pushing it open in one quick shove. No Harry, but his pyjama bottoms, t-shirt,
glasses, and wand lay in a jumbled pile near some broken bottles of beer, the liquid pooling along the floor with something
like ash mixed in. Draco gasped, and his knees gave out. “What the -?”
As he sat on the cool tile floor, he found the presence of mind to search for magical traces. One - barely. So faint
that he might have missed it if he’d waited any longer. And he didn’t recognise the spell. Draco put his head on his raised
knees, trying to think. He needed help, and although he’d never admit it aloud, there was only one person - other than
Harry - that he’d ever call.
With determination, he rose gracefully and went out to the Floo. “Hermione!”
***
Twelve hours later, Harry was still missing and Draco was a mess. Not that he’d let anyone know that, of course. He
and Hermione had spent the night researching transportation spells. They’d even gone to the Manor, though Hermione
claimed it gave her nightmares to be back there. Draco understood - she’d been tortured there, but it had been
witnessing that which had driven Draco to seek out the Order and finally leave Voldemort’s side. He and Narcissa had
gone together, leaving Lucius behind at his request. He took the blame for their disappearance, and Voldemort killed him
during the final battle.
Now, as the mid-morning sun made its way into the Manor library, Draco’s eyes burned. Not for his father, however,
but for Harry, the man who’d freed all of them when he killed that madman. “I don’t understand why we can’t find anything,”
Draco said.
Hermione shook her head. “It’s got to be somewhere, Draco. There’s no way someone knows spells that we can’t
find. We simply have to persist.”
“Should we call the Aurors?” Draco asked, finally voicing what he knew they’d both been thinking. There’d been no
traces of Dark magic, but surely this wasn’t just a prank. And they’d heard nothing from Harry, which meant he’d not left of
his own accord. Of course, the clothes and wand would be the first indication of that, Draco thought, shoving the worry
aside yet again.
Hermione winced. Draco knew that memories of the Aurors were rough on her because of Ron. “Maybe,” she said
after a long pause.
Their eyes met, and Draco looked away at the concern he saw there. He couldn’t handle her pain on top of his own.
He betrayed me, he lied to me. Draco tried to find the anger and hurt he’d felt the day before, but it eluded him. “We
fought - well, I fought. I was mean.” Draco swallowed. “I told him to fuck off, and I never say that to him.”
Hermione raised her brows. “I recall you saying that to him many times.”
Draco tried to smile. “Not like this.”
She bit her lip, her hand holding the spell book open. “Why?”
He hadn’t told her the billion times she’d asked yesterday, and he didn’t know if he could tell her now. Swallowing hard,
he said, “Harry told me he was closer to me than anyone. I - it felt good, hearing that. Especially after all we’ve been
through.” He looked away, unable to bear the compassion, the strange knowing look in her eyes. “But then I heard him
talking to you in the kitchen - telling you about some bloke he’s in love with. Someone he’s never even mentioned to me.
He’s never even said he was looking right now.” He felt his emotions burn, the rawness oozing from him with every word.
God, he was pathetic.
“Oh, Draco.” Hermione put her other hand over his, but he still couldn’t look at her. “He is closer to you - he just -
it’s complicated. He - he just didn’t think he could talk about this with you. Not yet.”
Draco nodded. “Right.”
“Draco -”
He pulled his hand away. “Why don’t you keep looking and I’ll go and Floo Weasley.”
She hesitated then said, “All right,” in a resigned voice.
Draco went into the next room, leaning against the wall for a moment to gather himself. What was wrong with him?
How did Harry always manage to do this to him? Before they’d become friends, Draco had never fallen apart like this -
well, other than his entire sixth year, but that was different. Now, there was no crazy Dark Lord, no war, no threat of death
for him and his parents hanging over his head. Why did he feel like the world had ended?
Making a quick decision, he Flooed back to their flat before calling Weasley. Stepping through, he took a deep
breath. Vanilla, grass, fresh air - Harry. That’s what their home smelled like, and Draco’s chest tightened at the thought
that something serious had happened and Harry might not return. When he thought he could speak without his voice
shaking, he went to the fireplace and Fire-called Weasley.
“Draco?”
Blinking in shock, Draco could only stare at the face before him. “Pansy?”
***
Harry groaned, putting his hands to his throbbing head. “Ow.” He barely opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light
which caused shooting pains in his temples. “Fuck.”
“Shhh, Harry, it’s all right.”
That voice sounded familiar, but Harry couldn’t get past the pain to figure it out. “Hurts. Shit.”
“I know. I’d give you a potion, but I don’t want any thing to react with what we’re planning, so I’m afraid you’ll just have
to tough it out. But I know how strong you are, so I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
Harry groaned, trying to figure out what happened. “Where am I?”
“You’re safe.”
Harry tried again to open his eyes, and this time, he saw flashes of red mixed in with the painful white light. The red
clicked with the voice. “Ginny?”
She grinned. “I knew you’d come out of this okay. Teddy, he’s awake!”
Teddy? Harry was so confused. Did Ginny have his godson here? Where was he?
A large shape entered Harry’s blurred sight. “Awake then? We can probably start in a couple of hours. Keep
monitoring him.”
“Start what?” Harry struggled to sit up, and only then did he realise that he was naked. “Where are my clothes?” He
reached for his wand holster, but that was also gone. “Gin, what’s going on?”
Ginny sat beside him, jiggling the cot a bit and causing another rush of pain to Harry’s head. He winced, but fought to
keep his mind together. Blinking, he looked at the room around him. Nothing was focused.
“I’ve been pretty patient with you, I think,” Ginny said, leaning closer so he could see her face. Her large brown eyes
stared into his. “I’ve told you for years that we were meant to be together. When you broke up with me, I was crushed -
but then I ran into Teddy, and he started telling me about some potions he was working on. One of them was made for
you, Harry. It’ll cure you of the stuff you’ve been going through, and we’ll be able to be together.”
Harry couldn’t decide if he was confused because of her words or the pain in his head. “Where are my glasses? My
wand? How did I get here?”
“Shhh,” she said, putting her hand over his on the blanket. “You’re in a safe place. Teddy and I have been using this
as our lab. We brought you here last night, when we knew the potion was ready for testing. We had to give you a
suppressing potion - one of Teddy’s inventions - that’s why you might have a bit of a headache. But don’t worry. You’re
going to be our first success story, Harry!”
Harry’s panic increased - something was really wrong here. “Ginny, who’s Teddy?”
She blinked and pulled back a bit, her face returning to its fuzzy state. “Theo Nott - you remember him, don’t you?”
With another throb of pain, Harry bit back a surge of fear. Nott was wanted by the Aurors for his work with the Death
Eaters. He was one of only three still unaccounted for - what the hell was Ginny doing with him? “You’re working with
Theo Nott?”
She nodded and leaned back in. “He’s very good with potions and stuff. Must be a Slytherin thing,” she added with a
giggle.
Harry tried to think. What kind of potion was she talking about? “What problem do I have that you think you can fix,
Gin?” he asked.
“Oh, Harry - you know. If it wasn’t for Malfoy convincing you that you’re gay, you’d still be in love with me. You still
are in love with me, in fact - it’s just been buried beneath this other stuff. But it’s okay. Theo has a potion which will cure
you of all that, and you’ll be yourself again.”
Harry stared, his heart pounding. She was crazy - and she had a Death Eater telling her tales of potions. Shit. He
didn’t know how to do this, but he had to get out of here.
***
“Pansy?” Draco couldn’t believe his eyes. What was his girlfriend doing at Ron Weasley’s?
“Oh, Draco.” Pansy swallowed and then pasted on a smile. “It’s good to see you, darling.”
“What - did I miscall?”
“You need Ron?”
Draco couldn’t find words for a second, wondering if he’d fallen into an alternate universe. “Yes,” he finally bit out.
She nodded. “I’ll send him through.” She disappeared, and then the fireplace flashed green and Ron tumbled into
Draco’s lap.
“Shit. Get off me, Weasley.”
“What are you doing so bloody close to the exit, anyway?” Ron asked, jumping up and brushing off his clothes.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, not sure where to start. He’d stand up - that might help. Once he did, he tried
to corral his thoughts. “We think something might have happened to Harry -”
“We? Harry?” Ron whirled, his wand in hand. “What’s going on, Malfoy?”
Draco frowned. “If you’d calm down, I might be able to explain. Hermione and I -”
Ron winced at her name. “She doesn’t have you going on about saving Harry again, does she?”
“What?” Draco wasn’t sure he could take much more of this. “Stop talking!” he yelled.
Ron blinked and lowered his wand.
“Thank you,” Draco said stiffly. “Harry disappeared last night -”
“What? And you only called me now?” Ron looked furious, and he stepped closer to Draco, his eyes flashing. “You
little git, you fucking ponce - if anything happens to him -”
“Hey!” Draco drew himself up. He wasn’t as big as Ron, but he had similar height. And no one talked to a Malfoy like
that. He narrowed his eyes, focusing all his worry and confusion and frustration on Ron’s freckles, fighting to keep control.
“If you’ll let me finish,” he said, his voice finally cold like he wanted it to be.
Ron’s lips tightened, but he relaxed his stance - slightly. “Go on then.”
“Last night, I heard a noise and when I went into the kitchen, Harry’s clothes, wand, and glasses were there, but Harry
was gone. At first, I thought it might be a prank or something, so I called Hermione. She’s my lab partner, as I’m sure you
recall,” he added, sending a nasty look at Ron. He knew their working relationship had caused many problems in the
former couple’s relationship. “She came over and we checked for any Dark magic and couldn’t find any. In fact, there was
barely a trace of any magic.” Draco paused, the retelling bringing back all his fears.
Ron rubbed a hand over his face. “Why does this shit always happen to Harry?” he muttered. “So that’s all you found
- his clothes and wand?”
“Well, there was some glass and Butterbeer on the floor. But yeah, that’s it.”
Ron shook his head. “And no Dark traces?”
“Didn’t I just say that?” Draco snapped. “I think you know the thoroughness of your ex-girlfriend, if nothing else.”
Ron sighed and nodded. “So he’s been missing for how many hours?”
Draco cast a quick Tempus. “About fifteen.” Gods, fifteen hours. The panic welled up inside of him again, and Draco
fought to keep it from his face. Harry would never do something like this, even if Draco was a total bastard to him.
Something was seriously wrong.
Ron seemed to agree, and his hands clenched at his sides. “Show me where you found his stuff.”
Draco didn’t know what good it would do, but then again, he wasn’t an Auror. Without speaking, he went into the
kitchen, pointing at the floor where Harry’s clothes had fallen.
Ron looked around, crouching on the stone tiles and rubbing a finger over it. “So you cleaned up the Butterbeer - did
you find anything else at all while you did so?”
Draco couldn’t hold back a sneer. “Don’t you think I’d have told you?”
To his surprise, Ron looked up at him with something close to understanding. “Malfoy, you’re used to potions. You’re
Harry’s, um, friend, and this has been stressful for you. Did you sleep at all last night?”
“Of course not,” Draco said. “Would you have?”
Ron shook his head. “If you’d told me -”
“Well, I didn’t. Get on with it.” Draco didn’t mean to be such a prat, but Ron brought it out in him - especially after
seeing Pansy at his place. Draco shoved that disturbing thought aside and watched as Ron ran his hand over the floor and
then along the countertop above it.
Frowning, he rubbed his fingers together. “I’m guessing this place is usually spotless - knowing you,” he said. “But
something’s here. Some kind of smooth: .
Love's Trigger, Part One
Draco opened the front door, shaking out his robes. He could have used an Imperturbable Charm, but the rain felt
good trickling down his face. It fit his mood perfectly. He frowned, closing the door behind him. Where was Harry? He
was doing this whole stupid thing for that git anyway, and he’d said he would be home to show Draco the exact forms of
the herbs he needed. Draco’s work as a potionist was already extraordinary, and Harry didn’t hesitate to turn to him to ask
for some special Healing potions and quick-brewing ideas. Draco had started the entire quick-brew revolution, in fact.
With a slight smile at the thought of how pleased Harry would be with all this, Draco took another step towards the
kitchen. His smile slid away as he heard voices. Hermione. He sighed. His partner - of course, Harry had to call her in
on this favour, too. He squelched toward the kitchen door, putting his hand on it - and then froze.
“-don’t know what to do.” Harry sounded weary, resigned, and completely in pain.
“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to work with him, too.” Hermione sounded worried. “I don’t know why you never listen
to me.”
“I listened. But I couldn’t - gods, Hermione, I can’t help it. Every day it gets worse. I thought it would be good, that
it would let me see him in a more professional way, you know? But all it does is make me want him more.” Now the
anguish came through, and Draco backed away.
What the hell? What was Harry talking about? Draco grabbed his head with his hands, anger, betrayal, and
something which might have been jealousy swirling around in him. Just that morning, minutes before Draco left to go to his
lab on a Saturday, for Merlin’s sake, Harry had smiled at him. “I think I’m closer to you than anyone else.” He had blushed,
like he always did when admitting something important to him, and Draco had felt a warmth fill him.
“You’re just saying that so I don’t mind working overtime,” he’d replied, trying to keep the brilliant smile from his face.
Harry’d smirked. “Maybe.” But as Draco turned away, he’d caught the edge of a look - a typical Harry look which
said that there was so much more to it.
And now, now, Harry had the nerve to sit in their kitchen and tell Hermione that there was someone out there he
wanted - someone he’d never mentioned to Draco. Closer to me than anyone, my arse!
Draco couldn’t believe how upset he was, and he worked to calm himself down. Malfoys didn’t have emotional
displays like this. If Harry wanted to lie to him, to act like Draco was more important than he actually was, then so be it.
At least now Draco knew the truth.
For some reason, Draco had a hard time taking a deep breath, and he struggled to breathe normally. There had to be
a good reason Harry’d never told Draco about this mystery man - this mystery man he worked with, for gods’ sake,
Draco remembered. It couldn’t have anything to do with Harry being gay, could it? Surely not. Draco had made it clear to
Harry that he didn’t mind his sexual preferences. He teased him about men all the time - pointing out various specimens
when they went out for their weekly dinners.
Draco paced a bit, trying to be rational. Maybe it was someone Draco hated? He wracked his brain, trying to recall if
anyone he despised worked at St. Mungo’s. That idiot Smith had worked there a couple of years before, but then he’d
given it up and changed to flobberworm studies, or something similarly asinine. “Gods, why wouldn’t he tell me this?”
Draco muttered. It had to be Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw from their year. Harry had mentioned that Boot had suddenly
pledged his support to Harry’s Healing Potions Project. “Shit.” Draco had nothing against Boot personally, but still -
Suddenly, the kitchen door creaked open and Hermione peeked through. “Draco?”
“Good afternoon, Granger,” he said, smoothing his face into its usual mask. “Potter said he had specifications for us
- did you get them?”
She frowned, like something in his tone bothered her, but she didn’t respond other than to shake her head.
“Draco?” Harry gently moved Hermione aside and left the kitchen. His smile lit up his face, almost hiding the pain in his
eyes - the pain he hides from me, Draco reminded himself, his stomach clenching. Shit! Why wouldn’t Harry tell him
about this?
“I didn’t hear you Floo in -”
“I walked. Anyway, is it ready?”
Harry hesitated, searching Draco’s eyes. “Is anything wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong? You know how much I love working on the weekend.” Draco glanced away at the
flicker of hurt on Harry’s face. “I’m just tired, Potter. Do you have the list?” He held out his hand, deliberately avoiding
Harry’s eyes this time.
“I’ll get it,” Harry said. “I’m sorry, by the way. You said you didn’t mind taking this project on the side - I wasn’t
thinking. I shouldn’t have asked.” Now he sounded defeated, on top of everything else.
Draco sighed. No matter why Harry had deliberately misled him, Draco couldn’t find it in himself to kick him when he
was down. “It’s not a problem, Harry. Okay? Just give me the list and we’ll get to work. We almost finished anyway, as
I’m sure Granger has told you.”
Hermione gathered her cloak. “I don’t really want to walk,” she whispered, as Harry went into the other room.
“We can Floo. I just wanted to feel the rain earlier. Now I just want to get this over with.”
She frowned again. “I thought you were excited about this -”
Draco turned to her, biting down on the sudden rush of anger. “It’s fine. Can we just drop it now?”
She blinked, startled. “Of course.” She put on her cloak and grabbed some Floo powder, waiting by the fireplace.
Draco sighed. He’d agreed to work with Hermione three years ago because he knew how intelligent she was and how
much she loved to research. He’d expected to earn her respect; he’d never guessed they’d become friends - not that he
let many people know that, of course.
Harry came back then, parchment in his hand. “It was in the spare room,” he said. “I should’ve just -”
Draco cut him off. “It’s fine.” How many times had he said that now? “We should go.”
“When will you be home?” Harry asked, then grimaced. “Sorry. I guess since you’re doing me the favour, whenever
you get here is: fine.”
“It’ll be late,” Draco said. “Don’t wait for me.”
Harry nodded, disappointment flashing across his face before he pulled on a determined smile. “Thanks.”
Draco gave a curt nod and joined Hermione by the fireplace. “Shall we?” he asked her.
She tossed in the powder. “Malfoy-Granger lab,” she called out. Draco followed her, not looking back to Harry, though
he could feel his green-eyed gaze on his back.
***
That evening, Draco sneaked through the front door, hoping Harry was already in bed. Draco was cross and annoyed,
and worst of all, a burning hurt had permeated everything. He hadn’t realised until that day how much it meant to him to be
close to Harry - to be closer than anyone else: hadn’t realised it until it was no longer true. If it ever had been, he
thought with a sigh.
The flat was dark, a good sign that Harry was asleep. Draco moved quietly, so familiar with his home of almost three
years that he didn’t need even a Lumos from his wand. He slipped off his shoes, hung up his cloak, and dropped his files
on the hall table. He was hungry, but he didn’t bother to swing through the kitchen. Instead, he walked down the hallway,
past the living room, past Harry’s room, and into his own. With relief, he pulled off his robes and took off his trousers,
sitting on his bed in only his underpants. Gods, what a day.
Hermione hadn’t stopped bugging him about what was wrong all afternoon. The first potion had gone horribly wrong
and blown up all over the lab, a mistake he hadn’t made since finishing his NEWTs. He felt pummelled.
“Draco?”
Well, shit. Draco lifted his head from his hands. “What?”
“Did you get dinner?” Harry shifted his weight in the doorway, and Draco saw the outdoor lights reflected on Harry’s
glasses. He wore a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, and his hair was messy, as always.
“Not hungry,” Draco lied, looking away.
“Hermione Owled me and said -”
“Harry, just leave it. Can you do that?” Draco couldn’t keep the irritation or hurt from his voice.
“But -”
“Gods, Potter! Leave me the fuck alone! Just bloody fuck off already!” Draco waved his hand and his door shut in
Harry’s face, one of the few wandless spells he’d learned while living here. After a few seconds, he heard Harry’s shuffling
steps move away, and he sighed. Maybe everyone had been right and living together wasn’t a good idea. But when they’d
become friends through the horror of the final battle and the months following, Draco had been nothing but thrilled when
Harry suggested it. They’d got along better than anyone thought, and up until now, Draco had been happy.
Maybe too happy, really. His time with Harry fulfilled him enough that he kept putting off his commitment to Pansy.
They’d been almost-engaged for a couple of years now, but he’d never felt the need to make it official. And Harry wasn’t
much better - at least until now. Apparently, Harry was in love - seriously in love with some bloke - probably Terry
sodding Boot - and he hadn’t even bothered to tell Draco about it.
The anger surged again, and Draco leaned back on his bed, clenching his teeth. He was an idiot. Taking deep
breaths, Draco managed to calm down - when a strange sound startled him. Breaking glass? Draco sat up, suddenly
cautious.
“Harry?” He got up and opened the door, listening.
Silence. Creeping past Harry’s room, where the door was wide open, Draco headed into the living room and saw light
coming from under the kitchen door. “Harry?”
Wand in hand, Draco moved to the door, pushing it open in one quick shove. No Harry, but his pyjama bottoms, t-shirt,
glasses, and wand lay in a jumbled pile near some broken bottles of beer, the liquid pooling along the floor with something
like ash mixed in. Draco gasped, and his knees gave out. “What the -?”
As he sat on the cool tile floor, he found the presence of mind to search for magical traces. One - barely. So faint
that he might have missed it if he’d waited any longer. And he didn’t recognise the spell. Draco put his head on his raised
knees, trying to think. He needed help, and although he’d never admit it aloud, there was only one person - other than
Harry - that he’d ever call.
With determination, he rose gracefully and went out to the Floo. “Hermione!”
***
Twelve hours later, Harry was still missing and Draco was a mess. Not that he’d let anyone know that, of course. He
and Hermione had spent the night researching transportation spells. They’d even gone to the Manor, though Hermione
claimed it gave her nightmares to be back there. Draco understood - she’d been tortured there, but it had been
witnessing that which had driven Draco to seek out the Order and finally leave Voldemort’s side. He and Narcissa had
gone together, leaving Lucius behind at his request. He took the blame for their disappearance, and Voldemort killed him
during the final battle.
Now, as the mid-morning sun made its way into the Manor library, Draco’s eyes burned. Not for his father, however,
but for Harry, the man who’d freed all of them when he killed that madman. “I don’t understand why we can’t find anything,”
Draco said.
Hermione shook her head. “It’s got to be somewhere, Draco. There’s no way someone knows spells that we can’t
find. We simply have to persist.”
“Should we call the Aurors?” Draco asked, finally voicing what he knew they’d both been thinking. There’d been no
traces of Dark magic, but surely this wasn’t just a prank. And they’d heard nothing from Harry, which meant he’d not left of
his own accord. Of course, the clothes and wand would be the first indication of that, Draco thought, shoving the worry
aside yet again.
Hermione winced. Draco knew that memories of the Aurors were rough on her because of Ron. “Maybe,” she said
after a long pause.
Their eyes met, and Draco looked away at the concern he saw there. He couldn’t handle her pain on top of his own.
He betrayed me, he lied to me. Draco tried to find the anger and hurt he’d felt the day before, but it eluded him. “We
fought - well, I fought. I was mean.” Draco swallowed. “I told him to fuck off, and I never say that to him.”
Hermione raised her brows. “I recall you saying that to him many times.”
Draco tried to smile. “Not like this.”
She bit her lip, her hand holding the spell book open. “Why?”
He hadn’t told her the billion times she’d asked yesterday, and he didn’t know if he could tell her now. Swallowing hard,
he said, “Harry told me he was closer to me than anyone. I - it felt good, hearing that. Especially after all we’ve been
through.” He looked away, unable to bear the compassion, the strange knowing look in her eyes. “But then I heard him
talking to you in the kitchen - telling you about some bloke he’s in love with. Someone he’s never even mentioned to me.
He’s never even said he was looking right now.” He felt his emotions burn, the rawness oozing from him with every word.
God, he was pathetic.
“Oh, Draco.” Hermione put her other hand over his, but he still couldn’t look at her. “He is closer to you - he just -
it’s complicated. He - he just didn’t think he could talk about this with you. Not yet.”
Draco nodded. “Right.”
“Draco -”
He pulled his hand away. “Why don’t you keep looking and I’ll go and Floo Weasley.”
She hesitated then said, “All right,” in a resigned voice.
Draco went into the next room, leaning against the wall for a moment to gather himself. What was wrong with him?
How did Harry always manage to do this to him? Before they’d become friends, Draco had never fallen apart like this -
well, other than his entire sixth year, but that was different. Now, there was no crazy Dark Lord, no war, no threat of death
for him and his parents hanging over his head. Why did he feel like the world had ended?
Making a quick decision, he Flooed back to their flat before calling Weasley. Stepping through, he took a deep
breath. Vanilla, grass, fresh air - Harry. That’s what their home smelled like, and Draco’s chest tightened at the thought
that something serious had happened and Harry might not return. When he thought he could speak without his voice
shaking, he went to the fireplace and Fire-called Weasley.
“Draco?”
Blinking in shock, Draco could only stare at the face before him. “Pansy?”
***
Harry groaned, putting his hands to his throbbing head. “Ow.” He barely opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light
which caused shooting pains in his temples. “Fuck.”
“Shhh, Harry, it’s all right.”
That voice sounded familiar, but Harry couldn’t get past the pain to figure it out. “Hurts. Shit.”
“I know. I’d give you a potion, but I don’t want any thing to react with what we’re planning, so I’m afraid you’ll just have
to tough it out. But I know how strong you are, so I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
Harry groaned, trying to figure out what happened. “Where am I?”
“You’re safe.”
Harry tried again to open his eyes, and this time, he saw flashes of red mixed in with the painful white light. The red
clicked with the voice. “Ginny?”
She grinned. “I knew you’d come out of this okay. Teddy, he’s awake!”
Teddy? Harry was so confused. Did Ginny have his godson here? Where was he?
A large shape entered Harry’s blurred sight. “Awake then? We can probably start in a couple of hours. Keep
monitoring him.”
“Start what?” Harry struggled to sit up, and only then did he realise that he was naked. “Where are my clothes?” He
reached for his wand holster, but that was also gone. “Gin, what’s going on?”
Ginny sat beside him, jiggling the cot a bit and causing another rush of pain to Harry’s head. He winced, but fought to
keep his mind together. Blinking, he looked at the room around him. Nothing was focused.
“I’ve been pretty patient with you, I think,” Ginny said, leaning closer so he could see her face. Her large brown eyes
stared into his. “I’ve told you for years that we were meant to be together. When you broke up with me, I was crushed -
but then I ran into Teddy, and he started telling me about some potions he was working on. One of them was made for
you, Harry. It’ll cure you of the stuff you’ve been going through, and we’ll be able to be together.”
Harry couldn’t decide if he was confused because of her words or the pain in his head. “Where are my glasses? My
wand? How did I get here?”
“Shhh,” she said, putting her hand over his on the blanket. “You’re in a safe place. Teddy and I have been using this
as our lab. We brought you here last night, when we knew the potion was ready for testing. We had to give you a
suppressing potion - one of Teddy’s inventions - that’s why you might have a bit of a headache. But don’t worry. You’re
going to be our first success story, Harry!”
Harry’s panic increased - something was really wrong here. “Ginny, who’s Teddy?”
She blinked and pulled back a bit, her face returning to its fuzzy state. “Theo Nott - you remember him, don’t you?”
With another throb of pain, Harry bit back a surge of fear. Nott was wanted by the Aurors for his work with the Death
Eaters. He was one of only three still unaccounted for - what the hell was Ginny doing with him? “You’re working with
Theo Nott?”
She nodded and leaned back in. “He’s very good with potions and stuff. Must be a Slytherin thing,” she added with a
giggle.
Harry tried to think. What kind of potion was she talking about? “What problem do I have that you think you can fix,
Gin?” he asked.
“Oh, Harry - you know. If it wasn’t for Malfoy convincing you that you’re gay, you’d still be in love with me. You still
are in love with me, in fact - it’s just been buried beneath this other stuff. But it’s okay. Theo has a potion which will cure
you of all that, and you’ll be yourself again.”
Harry stared, his heart pounding. She was crazy - and she had a Death Eater telling her tales of potions. Shit. He
didn’t know how to do this, but he had to get out of here.
***
“Pansy?” Draco couldn’t believe his eyes. What was his girlfriend doing at Ron Weasley’s?
“Oh, Draco.” Pansy swallowed and then pasted on a smile. “It’s good to see you, darling.”
“What - did I miscall?”
“You need Ron?”
Draco couldn’t find words for a second, wondering if he’d fallen into an alternate universe. “Yes,” he finally bit out.
She nodded. “I’ll send him through.” She disappeared, and then the fireplace flashed green and Ron tumbled into
Draco’s lap.
“Shit. Get off me, Weasley.”
“What are you doing so bloody close to the exit, anyway?” Ron asked, jumping up and brushing off his clothes.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, not sure where to start. He’d stand up - that might help. Once he did, he tried
to corral his thoughts. “We think something might have happened to Harry -”
“We? Harry?” Ron whirled, his wand in hand. “What’s going on, Malfoy?”
Draco frowned. “If you’d calm down, I might be able to explain. Hermione and I -”
Ron winced at her name. “She doesn’t have you going on about saving Harry again, does she?”
“What?” Draco wasn’t sure he could take much more of this. “Stop talking!” he yelled.
Ron blinked and lowered his wand.
“Thank you,” Draco said stiffly. “Harry disappeared last night -”
“What? And you only called me now?” Ron looked furious, and he stepped closer to Draco, his eyes flashing. “You
little git, you fucking ponce - if anything happens to him -”
“Hey!” Draco drew himself up. He wasn’t as big as Ron, but he had similar height. And no one talked to a Malfoy like
that. He narrowed his eyes, focusing all his worry and confusion and frustration on Ron’s freckles, fighting to keep control.
“If you’ll let me finish,” he said, his voice finally cold like he wanted it to be.
Ron’s lips tightened, but he relaxed his stance - slightly. “Go on then.”
“Last night, I heard a noise and when I went into the kitchen, Harry’s clothes, wand, and glasses were there, but Harry
was gone. At first, I thought it might be a prank or something, so I called Hermione. She’s my lab partner, as I’m sure you
recall,” he added, sending a nasty look at Ron. He knew their working relationship had caused many problems in the
former couple’s relationship. “She came over and we checked for any Dark magic and couldn’t find any. In fact, there was
barely a trace of any magic.” Draco paused, the retelling bringing back all his fears.
Ron rubbed a hand over his face. “Why does this shit always happen to Harry?” he muttered. “So that’s all you found
- his clothes and wand?”
“Well, there was some glass and Butterbeer on the floor. But yeah, that’s it.”
Ron shook his head. “And no Dark traces?”
“Didn’t I just say that?” Draco snapped. “I think you know the thoroughness of your ex-girlfriend, if nothing else.”
Ron sighed and nodded. “So he’s been missing for how many hours?”
Draco cast a quick Tempus. “About fifteen.” Gods, fifteen hours. The panic welled up inside of him again, and Draco
fought to keep it from his face. Harry would never do something like this, even if Draco was a total bastard to him.
Something was seriously wrong.
Ron seemed to agree, and his hands clenched at his sides. “Show me where you found his stuff.”
Draco didn’t know what good it would do, but then again, he wasn’t an Auror. Without speaking, he went into the
kitchen, pointing at the floor where Harry’s clothes had fallen.
Ron looked around, crouching on the stone tiles and rubbing a finger over it. “So you cleaned up the Butterbeer - did
you find anything else at all while you did so?”
Draco couldn’t hold back a sneer. “Don’t you think I’d have told you?”
To his surprise, Ron looked up at him with something close to understanding. “Malfoy, you’re used to potions. You’re
Harry’s, um, friend, and this has been stressful for you. Did you sleep at all last night?”
“Of course not,” Draco said. “Would you have?”
Ron shook his head. “If you’d told me -”
“Well, I didn’t. Get on with it.” Draco didn’t mean to be such a prat, but Ron brought it out in him - especially after
seeing Pansy at his place. Draco shoved that disturbing thought aside and watched as Ron ran his hand over the floor and
then along the countertop above it.
Frowning, he rubbed his fingers together. “I’m guessing this place is usually spotless - knowing you,” he said. “But
something’s here. Some kind of smooth: .