Worth the Gamble (H/D, PG)

[sesheta_66]

Well, the hpslashnotsmut reveal is done, so I can post my fic now. The master list is here.

Title: Worth the Gamble
Author/Artist: sesheta_66
Beta: alaana_fair
Giftee: faynia. Original request can be found here.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Draco/Harry, McGonagall, Ron, Slughorn
Era/Time-Frame: Post-Hogwarts, post-war, pre-epilogue (ignoring epilogue, actually). All characters are over the age of 18.
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 8700
Summary: When Draco Malfoy is sentenced to probation for his crimes, he must come up with a plan to make reparations that are meaningful, and he calls upon the one person that can help him do it.
Warnings: EWE (epilogue, what epilogue?)



"Draco Malfoy, you are hereby sentenced to five years for your crimes."

Harry watched as Draco's face paled and his body went rigid.

"However, due to the circumstances, and testimony given on your behalf, your sentence is reverted to two years' time served, and three years' probation, the conditions of which will be set forth in your probation agreement. You are to contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement within seven days to arrange a meeting with an officer who will assist you in developing your plan for the next three years."

Draco's body relaxed slightly and his face showed a slight sign of relief. Harry knew that it was his testimony, describing the events of the last two years before Voldemort died, which had secured Draco the suspended sentence. He had described walking in on a frustrated Draco Malfoy, fearing for his own and his parents' lives in sixth year. He retold the conversation with Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower at the end of that year. He went on to outline the time during the war when he was inside Voldemort's mind while he watched Draco, helpless, at the Manor, forced to do his bidding as he watched Voldemort tormenting and then killing the Muggle teacher. He told of the time he had been brought to Malfoy Manor, and Draco had not immediately identified him. Finally he described the time Crabbe had wanted to kill Harry, but Draco had stopped him.

He had spoken of a young man who had been raised to believe that Lord Voldemort was the best thing to happen to wizard kind, a young man who, not unlike many young boys, had spend most of his childhood trying to emulate and win the favour of his father, who in his case had been Voldemort's right hand man. Harry went on to explain that Draco had been under extreme duress, his father imprisoned, his parents threatened, his own life threatened, and that he had been charged with a task doomed to fail, one Voldemort himself hadn't been able to see through to completion - to kill Albus Dumbledore.

Harry described how Draco had been forced to live with Voldemort during his time away from Hogwarts, to watch him and his Death Eaters take over Malfoy Manor, reducing his heretofore strong father and regal mother to servants in their own home. He had watched as they tortured, tormented, and killed Muggles, witches and wizards, thereby reinforcing the knowledge that to defy Voldemort meant sure death, likely lingering and painful.

Harry had testified that he had been inside Voldemort's mind, so he was able to watch first-hand how Draco had had to live. He had been sickened to see what his classmate, no matter the animosity between them before that, had been reduced to. He made clear that Draco had always been a strong, intelligent and lively wizard, who could hold his own, yet under the tyranny of Lord Voldemort had had his spirit crushed.

When he had been asked if he felt that Draco deserved to have the charges thrown out, Harry had bristled. "No," he had insisted. "But I do believe that he had been living in a different type of prison for the last two years of Voldemort's life. I don’t believe further incarceration is what he needs, nor do I believe that would bring about justice." When asked what he would suggest, Harry merely said, "I leave that to the discretion and expertise of the Wizengamot and the Ministry. I am confident," - he had cast a knowing glance at Kingsley - "that the new administration will put Mr Malfoy's considerable skills to good use."

Harry hadn't looked at Draco the entire time he had testified. He had thought it best not to be interrupted as he was giving his well-rehearsed testimony, lest he be distracted by what was sure to be a stunned look on his former rival's face. Sure enough, when he had finished and made to leave the stand, he caught Draco staring at him, dumbfounded and open-mouthed. Harry gave a curt nod, left the stand, and returned to the back of the courtroom. The day he had given his testimony, Harry hadn't answered Draco as he was being taken away, nor had he returned any owls sent by him or his solicitor in the days following. He just couldn't listen to endless questions or hear 'thank you' over and over again. He hadn't done this for himself; he had done what was right. Besides, it might not have made any difference at all.

Now, however, a few days later, after the verdict had been handed down, he couldn't get away so easily. Draco was a free man, so-to-speak, and he was making his way directly over to where Harry stood poised to leave.

"Potter!" Draco called as he walked swiftly over to his side. "Harry … I wanted to say --"

"There's no need, Draco."

"What do you mean, 'no need'? Look … don't make this any harder than --"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and stared at the wall behind Draco.

Draco took a deep breath and braced himself. "I want … no, I need to say … thank you … for … for, you know … giving me my life back." He mumbled the last part, but Harry was just able to make it out. He could tell this wasn't easy for Draco, and he wasn't going to make it any harder.

Harry smiled sheepishly. Knowing that Draco wouldn’t let it go, he suggested, "Buy me dinner sometime, and we'll call it even."

Draco looked at him as though he were about to argue, but then smiled. "Alright, then, Harry, dinner it is. How about tonight?"

Harry looked at him incredulously. "Tonight? I'd have thought you'd want to celebrate."

"Well, yes."

"So why waste your time with me? You can make it up to me some other time. Take tonight to celebrate with your mother. I'm sure she would like to spend the time with you, yeah?"

"But --"

"Your mother has been worried sick, Draco. After all the uncertainty of the past three years - not knowing whether or not you would be charged - and the length of this trial, she's been through a lot. You both have. Look after her. Dinner with me can wait."

Harry grinned as he walked away from a gaping Draco Malfoy, quite sure that the blonde was wondering when he and Narcissa might have spoken.

It was a week later when they finally met for dinner. Draco had, surprisingly, suggested a Muggle restaurant in London. It was an out-of-the-way Italian place that served "the best pasta in town," according to Draco.

"Do you like pasta?" he had asked Harry.

"Definitely," Harry had replied. "As a matter of fact, Italian food is my favourite."

"Mine too," Draco had said, and they had arranged to meet at seven o'clock.

Harry arrived a little before seven to find Draco already waiting for him. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I just got here about five minutes ago. So …"

"So …"

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, but then the waitress came to bring them menus and take their drink orders. Glad of something to do, Harry picked up his menu and started pouring over the choices.

"Harry, I wanted to --" He was interrupted by the waitress as she returned with their drinks. Harry noticed that he looked mildly put out, as though he had worked himself up to say something, and now the flow was gone.

"Shall I give you some time, then?"

"Yes, please," Draco replied politely. "About ten minutes." She smiled and left them to their conversation.

"So … you were saying?" Harry offered.

"Yes, I … well, I wanted to thank you, Harry."

"You already did."

"Yes, well, I wanted to thank you properly."

"Properly?" Harry teased, waggling his eyebrows, and moving in closer. "Just what did you have in mind?"

Draco's face went pink. "Um … well … er …"

"Relax, Draco," he chuckled. "I'm not going to seduce you," Harry explained. Was that a look of disappointment on the blonde's face? No, it couldn't have been. "I'm just teasing you. Now, what were you saying about thanking me properly?"

Draco, cheeks still flushed, took a deep breath as though bracing himself for something. "I met with my probation officer a few days ago."

"And how did that go?"

"It went quite well, actually. He suggested that I come up with my own work plan." Harry noticed the sparkle in Draco's eyes as he was speaking. "I have to say I was quite relieved. I was afraid they were going to assign me some plebeian job that I would have to trudge through for the next three years."

"And they're not? They're actually going to let you choose?" Harry tried to keep the astonishment out of his voice. Sure, he had wanted to ensure Draco didn't go to prison, but to be allowed to just carry on …

"Well, they will consider what I propose. Whatever I come up with has to be meaningful, and should fit the crime that I committed."

"So what are you going to do, teach students to mend cabinets?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. He cringed inwardly as he realised how that must have sounded.

Fortunately, Draco didn't seem to take offence to his comment. "Very funny, Potter," he drawled, but not with his usual condescending tone. "Anyway, I gave it quite a bit of thought, and I came up with a plan. But I need your help."

Harry almost choked on his water. Coming up for air, he sputtered, "Did you, Draco Malfoy, just ask for my help with something?"

"Shut up, prat," he replied. "Yes, I did. Now get over yourself and listen to my suggestion."

So it was that Harry found himself in Headmistress McGonagall's office, supporting Draco Malfoy in his proposal to assist in the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Let me get this straight," she said, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. "The two of you propose that you will teach - together - at this school."

"Well, not exact --"

"Shush, Mr. Potter. I believe I have the general gist of it. You, Mr. Potter, are the current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, which shall not change."

"That's correct."

"But Mr. Malfoy, here," - she gave Draco a dubious look - "is proposing that he will assist you in your task."

"Yes," Draco replied. "There has always been a missing piece in the syllabus," he went on. Seeing Professor McGonagall's look, he hastened to add, "In my opinion."

"I see," she said, sounding like she didn't see at all. Harry hadn't been convinced that they could persuade her when Draco had proposed this in the first place, but now that he was here, he wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"Professor," Harry ventured, "I believe that Draco makes a good point. The Slytherins, you have to admit, were always segregated to a certain degree from the rest of the school. Why do you think that was? Perhaps part of it was the fact that many of their parents were Death Eaters, or at least in some respect supportive of some of Voldemort's ideas.

"Another part of it was the Dark Arts. Slytherins, on the whole, embraced the Dark Arts. They did not merely accept them, but were drawn to them. I know I'm generalizing, and that others were and still are drawn to them, but it was more prevalent in Slytherin. And Draco would know that. So, who better to address the issues facing them than someone who was drawn into them himself?"

Harry glanced at Draco, who was now looking at him with surprise. Harry just nodded and looked back at McGonagall.

"Professor," Draco added. "I believe that the students, Slytherins in particular, become more curious about things that are forbidden. They hold a certain mystery that makes them a curiosity to some, a draw to others, and something to be revered by a few. I propose that I can discuss the draw of the Dark Arts, but I can also give - from a first-hand perspective - why they are not to be tampered with. I can also be a resource for Slytherins - and others, if they wish - to go to for frank talk."

"While this may be true," McGonagall replied, "you are forgetting one key problem."

Harry and Draco looked at each other, confused, before turning back to the Headmistress. "What?" they both asked.

"The two of you."

"What do you mean the two of us?" Harry asked.

"Oh, please, Mr. Potter. Surely you don't think I have that short a memory? I do believe that the two of you got into more fights than any two students in all my years at Hogwarts. In fact, I broke up a few of them, if you recall." She looked from one to the other, settling on Harry. "You nearly killed Mr. Malfoy here in sixth year, did you not?"

"Well …"

"Quite. And you, Mr. Malfoy, were not innocent in that incident. In fact, both of you probably stand quite equal in the taunting and instigating of the other for the six years you schooled here together."

"Yes, but --"

"No buts. Friends you are not. The two of you are volatile at best together. How can you guarantee me that this will not end in disaster?"

"I give you my word," Draco said.

"You can sack me if it blows up," Harry said.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall replied, "you'll have to excuse me for not simply taking the word of a former student who let Death Eaters into this very school." She turned her gaze to Harry. "And Mr. Potter, you can most certainly be assured that it will be your job on the line, should I agree to this madness. However," she once again looked between them, her gaze boring into them both, "you will need to prove to me that this has even the slightest chance of working out."

She stood up, hands resting on her desk, and looking down at Harry. "You, Mr. Potter, have a habit of jumping into things without thinking. I don't know where this is coming from, but you should know that you have done quite enough for your former classmate by testifying on his behalf. I want you to be sure you are not acting out of some misguided sense of guilt or need to save him, as you are wont to do. You need to think about this before you put your job on the line."

"I'm not --"

"Mr. Potter, I will not seriously consider this proposal until you have taken a few weeks to consider the impact this will have on you, your classes, and this school."

"Okay," Harry said, not sure what she thought would happen in the next few weeks to change his mind.

"And you, Mr. Malfoy," - she turned her piercing gaze to Draco - "have much to prove. I will not enter into this agreement until I am convinced that you can be trusted. I am not Albus Dumbledore. I do not trust nearly as easily as he did. If I do agree, you should know that I will be watching you."

"Of course," Draco said with such sincerity, Harry had to look to be sure it really was him. "I know I have been given a second chance, and that Harry is responsible for that. I know that I deserve to be punished for what I did, and I am truly grateful that I have been given this opportunity, whether or not you agree to my proposal. Harry has saved my life twice, and has also given me, through his testimony, the opportunity to right the wrongs I've committed, rather than serve a prison sentence. I assure you, Professor, I don't intend to repay him by putting his livelihood in jeopardy. I meant what I said. I want to make amends. I want to make things right. I want to help future generations of students avoid the mistakes I made."

McGonagall looked, for the first time since they had walked into her office, open to the possibility of accepting their proposal. In a much softer tone, she replied, "I certainly hope so, Mr. Malfoy."

"I will agree to any stipulations you place upon me. My probation officer has accepted this as a good start, but we will continue to work on other ways in which I can make amends, besides the obvious financial ones."

"And when must you let your probation officer know if this is accepted?"

"Well, I told him we were meeting today --"

"Surely he is not expecting an answer today?!" she exclaimed.

"No, no. He had hoped to know this week, but I told him that I didn't think that was reasonable, considering … well, considering everything I've done. He gave me until the end of the month, at which time I would have to come up with an alternative plan if you do not accept this one."

"That gives us two and a half weeks, then," she said, looking at Harry. "Mr. Potter, you have two weeks to return to me with a more concrete proposal for your lesson plans. Mr. Malfoy, you will work with Mr. Potter to develop plans for the first three months of classes." She raised her hand to stop a jubilant looking Draco from speaking. "This does not mean that I am agreeing to anything. I need more information on which to base my decision."

"Of course," Draco replied, suppressing a grin. Harry could see the twinkle in his eyes just like the day he first proposed the plan, and couldn't help but be amused. He was quite looking forward to working on this project with Draco.

"Now," she continued, her tone serious again. "As for the two of you, I think that you underestimate your history. I don't think that you have quite moved beyond what happened in the past, and I think it is bound to come up again. I expect you to discuss your feelings --"

"What?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Your feelings. As unorthodox as that sounds, there is just too much at risk not to. I expect you to spend the next two weeks discussing what made you despise each other so much, and why you seem to think that you're past all of that now. Mr. Malfoy will stay in your quarters with you and you will talk. If," she continued, preventing Harry from interjecting again, "you manage to get through the next two weeks without killing each other, I will give your proposal serious consideration."

"With all due respect, Professor," Draco ventured, "why exactly must we live together? Would it not be sufficient for us to meet each day to talk?"

"It may very well be, Mr. Malfoy, but I think this is a better way. You are forced to either speak or sit silently together. I do believe that staying silent twenty-four hours a day is difficult for the best of us. Besides, since your acrimony began as school boys living in dormitories, why not go back to that set-up, back to the way things were, so you can perhaps get past this?"

"But --" Harry spluttered.

"But nothing, Mr. Potter. Do you think that I am willing to risk your latent loathing of one another exploding one day while you are teaching together, in front of the students? No, I don't think so. You need to get it all out of your system now, work through your differences, get beyond your past and start fresh."

"But we already have," Harry insisted.

"Then this shouldn't be anything more than a minor inconvenience, should it?" Her smirk was worthy of a Slytherin, Harry thought. And why wasn't Draco objecting? This was ridiculous!

"When?" Harry asked.

"Why, I should think that today is as good a day as any to get started, don't you?" she said sweetly, reminding him frighteningly of Umbridge.

"Fine," he grumbled, looking at Draco for some sort of support. All he saw was a bemused expression on the other man's face.

As they were about to enter Harry's suite, Draco reached out and grabbed Harry by the arm. "Relax, Harry," he winked. "I'm not going to seduce you." Grinning, he carried on into the rooms without looking back. What the hell have I just agreed to?

"Are you out of your mind?" Ron had asked the next day when Harry paid him a visit. "I mean, I told you that you were mental to testify for him and his mother, but this is even pushing the limit for you! You really do have a 'saving people' thing, don't you?"

"Shut it, Ron. Draco has some good suggestions."

"Draco?! It's Draco now, is it? For the love of Merlin, Harry, what are you thinking? You can't possibly think the ferret has changed. I mean, we're talking about Malfoy here. The git who made your - our lives miserable for six years."

"We didn't exactly make his life fun either, Ron."

"But this is the very same person who tried to hand you over to You Know Who during the last battle. You saved him already, mate - twice. And if you ask me, he didn't deserve it. Then after the war you went to check up on him at the Manor from time to time. That was just … well, it was weird. Then after that, you testified for him and got him this joke of a sentence. You are done now. Wash your hands of him once and for all."

"I can't, Ron. I don't know why, but … well, I just can't. Besides, he has changed. You might not see it, but I do. And when he talks about this project, he looks so excited. Like he's really looking forward to helping out."

"He just wants to stay out of prison."

"Of course he does. Wouldn't you?"

"Well, yeah … but --"

"Ron, it's not just the fact that he gets to stay out of Azkaban. He's genuinely excited about this project. And he really does make some valid points. He explained what it was like to be at Hogwarts, in Slytherin, separated right to the bitter end from the rest of the school."

"Don't tell me you feel sorry for him."

"No … but I do have a bit of an appreciation for what he went through. We all had a sense of house pride, right? Well, for Slytherins it went beyond that, because they had nothing else, no one else. How many Slytherins did you see associating with students from other houses? When did we ever extend an invitation to Slytherins? Even the D.A. only had members from the three houses, because we would never even think of inviting them. They were never included, so they became closer to each other. So close that to go against what the majority in the house thought or said would have meant segregating yourself from everyone. That can't have been easy."

"Yeah, well, they didn't go out of their way to make friends with us."

"I know, and I'm not saying that what he or any of the other Slytherins did was right, but you have to at least take that into consideration."

"But, Harry … why does it always have to be you that runs to everyone's rescue?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. I suppose it's what I do," he replied with a grin.

Rolling his eyes, Ron replied, "Yeah, I suppose it is."

The first few days passed without incident. Harry and Draco went about their business, working on lesson plans for the students that married the inherent draw of each of the areas of the Dark Arts with the standard curriculum.

Dementors and giants could be shown as things to be feared in and of themselves, but also as creatures that had been controlled and used against Voldemort's enemies.

When they started discussing werewolves, seen as powerful as well as frightening, Draco spoke up. "I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking when he hired Lupin. He could very well have killed us all." Harry bit back the retort that came to the forefront, something to do with Draco letting in Fenrir Greyback. That would have got them nowhere.

"He was a werewolf even when he attended school here with my dad," he said instead.

"He what?" Draco sounded shocked. "Did Dumbledore know that?"

"Oh, yes," explained Harry. "He's the reason the Shrieking Shack has its current reputation."

"Surely you jest, Potter."

"Nope. Not jesting. Not a jesting bone in my body, see?" He spun around to prove his point, then drew his wand. "We could Apparate over there right now, and I'll prove it to you."

"You can't Apparate or Disapparate from Hogwarts."

"I know, I know … Hogwarts: A History. But I could take you there, and I'll show you that it's not haunted."

Draco looked suddenly wary. "No. No, I don't think so."

Harry sidled up beside him, before leaning in to murmur in his ear, "Surely you're not scared, are you?"

"Scared, Potter? Pfft! You wish."

"I can protect you, Draco," he suggested.

"My hero!" Draco swooned, placing his head on Harry's shoulder, his hand on his heart, and batting his eyelashes.

"Very funny," Harry joked, pushing Draco off him. "Prat."

Over the next few days, they worked on explaining how the use of spells and potions that were dark in nature, with seductive powers, came with a price. They discussed Fiendfyre, and how it is not something easily controlled. Harry suggested using the example of Crabbe conjuring it during the Battle of Hogwarts, figuring that the students might be particularly interested in a first-person account of how something like that could get out of control.

Draco said nothing, but his body went rigid. Harry noticed his face, as though he were thinking, Sure, let's tell them how another power-hungry Slytherin screwed up, and how the Gryffindors had to clean up the mess. Right. Bad idea. "Alright, then, no first-person accounts for Fiendfyre. I suppose that was a bit insensitive of me, Crabbe being your friend and all … sorry." Draco seemed to relax a little bit after that.

It all went well until they reached the now infamous Sectumsempra, a spell that neither of them would soon forget.

"Another first person account, Potter? Let's just leave that one alone, shall we?" Draco said in a clipped tone. "They don't need to be taught every spell there is. Besides," - he looked at Harry meaningfully - "I don't want to be responsible for --"

"I'm sorry, alright!" Harry blurted out. "I'm sorry I cast that spell. I didn't know what it would do. I never meant to hurt you. I --"

Draco's sharp laugh cut into Harry's diatribe. "Oh, don't give me that, Potter. You knew damn well what you were doing. You had been after me all year, and you didn't waste the opportunity to rip me open!"

"Draco, listen, please …"

"You know what, Potter, maybe McGonagall's right. Maybe we shouldn't work together. I think I've had about all of you that I can stand!" He stormed out of the room, and Harry didn't follow. Really, what was the point? He had apologized, and he had saved the prat's life - twice! He had even testified for him. What the hell else did he want?

Draco stormed off into the grounds, fuming. What was Potter playing at anyway? Apologizing now for something he had done so long ago? Something that he only got detention for. It was a half-hearted apology at best - too little, too late, as far as Draco was concerned.

He had almost killed me and all he had to do was sit with Snape and miss Quidditch. And here I am, paying for my crimes, while Boy Wonder is revered by the whole wizarding community. It just isn't fair.

"Something bothering you, Mr. Malfoy?" It was Professor Slughorn. He had stayed on at Hogwarts after the war, and had resumed his place as Head of Slytherin.

"No," Draco replied.

"Come now, m'boy," he chuckled. "Certainly you know that anyone can see that something's bothering you. Why not chat about it?"

"Oh, please. What good would it do?" Slughorn raised an eyebrow in an almost Snape-like fashion. "Potter can do no wrong, so why bother?"

"I take it you and Mr. Potter are not getting along as well as you had hoped?"

"Well, actually we are … well, we were. Everything was fine until …"

"Until?"

"Until we started talking about that stupid Sectumsempra spell." At Slughorn's confused look, Draco continued. "He cast that on me in sixth year, and nearly killed me." He sat staring at the ground in silence for a minute. "And then he only got detention for it. I mean, he almost killed me!"

"Ah, yes … I do remember that incident."

"Well? Don't tell me you're going to side with him. I know he was one of your favourites" - it still stung to admit that - "but surely you can't say he was right to do it?"

"Of course not, Draco, but …"

"But?! But what?! Anything Perfect Potter does is forgivable, but the rest of us have to pay for our actions? That's fair, isn't it?"

"Well, no. That's not what I meant. Surely there was a reason he cast such a spell on you?"

"He says he didn't know what it did."

"And you don't believe him?"

"Well … no. No, I don't. He had to know it would do something, or else why cast it in the first place?"

"Why indeed." He seemed to consider Draco's words before continuing. "Have you discussed this with Mr. Potter?"

"Yes. I just told you we --"

"Ah, but you are out here, and I suspect Mr. Potter is inside, is he not?"

"Yes."

"And why is that?"

"Because I left," Draco mumbled.

"I see. And did you discuss the incident, or did you leave before you had a chance?"

"I left."

"I have a suggestion that might help," Slughorn offered. "Now don't dismiss it outright. I think it would benefit the both of you. Hear me out, and then perhaps we can approach Mr. Potter with the idea."

Harry answered the knock at his door, surprised to see Draco and Slughorn standing there. "You don't have to knock," he said to Draco. "You live here too, remember?"

"I rather thought I might have given up that right when I stormed out of here earlier. May we come in?"

"Like I said, it's your place too," Harry replied, standing back to let them pass. In a hushed tone, he added, "For now, anyway."

"Right, well, I've come up with an idea that I thought could help the two of you … er … work through some of your … issues," Slughorn said happily, as he set a box onto the table in Harry's sitting room. He tapped the box with his wand, and it disappeared to reveal a Pensieve.

"Is that Dumbledore's Pensieve?" Harry asked, thinking that it didn't look exactly as he remembered.

"No, Harry. This is my own. They are somewhat rare, but I manage to get my hands on some rare things from time to time myself. Now, here is my suggestion," he said as he manoeuvred himself into the highest of the chairs in the room, Harry presuming it was to hold the power seat. "I propose that each of you, in turn, reveal memories from your past to the other. They can be collective memories, so you each have the chance to recall events as they had happened to you both. Or they can be memories that give the other a bit of insight into what was going through your mind at the time."

"What good will that do?" asked Harry.

"Well, as you know, memories can't be tampered with, without it being very obvious to the one viewing them." He gave Harry a knowing look, but said no more on the subject. "Therefore, since the two of you don't seem to trust one another --"

"I trust --" Harry began.

"Oh, ho!" he bellowed. "Somehow I doubt that very much. Let's just say for argument's sake that this is a way to see what really happened between the two of you. It will help you both to view your own memories freshly, clearly. And it will allow you to gain a little insight into the other's mind at the same time."

Harry looked dubiously at Slughorn. "I don't know," he said warily.

"Harry, m'boy, what harm could it do? After all, you are selecting your own memories. It's not like Legilimancy, where the caster selects what to see. This is under your control. It's your choice what memories to share."

"Look, Potter --"

"Why am I back to being Potter now?" he snapped. "I've been 'Harry' for weeks now!"

"Fine, Harry … I understand if you don't want to do this. I realize that sharing our thoughts and feelings isn't something either one of us is good at - especially with each other - but I'm willing to give it a go if you are."

"Fine. After all, like you said, I get to choose the memories."

"Would you like me to accompany you?" Slughorn asked, looking delighted at the idea.

"No," they both replied. They shared a suppressed grin at Slughorn's disappointment as they bade him farewell.

"So …" Harry began.

"Right …" Draco replied. "Shall we give it a go, then?"

"Actually, I'd like to think about it overnight, if you don't mind. You know, figure out what memories would be best."

"That sounds reasonable. Listen, Harry --"

"Forget it. We can talk tomorrow."

"Don't do that!" Draco said in frustration. "You never let me finish what I want to say."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I try to … well, to open up to you … and you stop me before I can. It's infuriating!"

"Sorry," Harry said, not realizing that he had been doing that. "I just thought you were going to apologize, and I'm tired of you saying that you're sorry, and I'm tired of you thanking me. You've thanked me enough. I'm not perfect. In fact, I've been a royal pain in the arse, especially to you, over the years. I know that now, so maybe we can just get past it all." He looked down into his folded hands, hoping for some inspiration.

"I hope we can too," Draco said. "But for the record, I wasn't trying to apologize. I was trying to explain why I stormed out of here earlier. You see, from where I sit, it looks like Boy Wonder can do no wrong. Maybe it's just that I was a Death Eater's son, and nobody really cared one way or another what happened to me, but you did almost kill me, and all you got was detention. No matter how many of them you received, that was still all you got for almost taking my life. That still makes me angry, Harry. That's all."

"But you were trying --"

"Leave it, Harry. I just wanted to tell you that," he said in a weary voice. "We can view our memories tomorrow. Maybe that's the one we should start with, okay?"

"Okay."

Harry had volunteered to go first. He had removed numerous memories and placed them into the Pensieve. He wanted to show Draco how he had been lured into a false sense of security where the Half-Blood-Prince's book was concerned.

The two of them entered the Pensieve to see Harry taking the book from Slughorn … then using the Prince's notes to make the potion and win the Felix Felicis … then class after class after class of brilliant suggestions that won him Slughorn's favour and Hermione's ire.

"So that's how you did it," Draco grumbled. "You cheated!"

"Well, not exactly. I was following the textbook after all."

"That sounds very Slytherin of you."

"Thanks," Harry said with a grin. That certainly caught Draco off-guard. "Keep watching."

They watched as Harry found spell after spell, cast them on unsuspecting students … Crabbe's toenails grew … Ron was hauled up into the air.

"Those spells were highly useful, weren't they?" asked Draco, looking thoughtful and a little amused.

Harry nodded. "That's why I didn't think there was any harm in using ..." He let his words trail off. "But Hermione did. She warned me. But I just wouldn’t listen. I wouldn't hear anything against the Prince. And gods, Draco, I never meant to hurt you. You have to know that. I really didn't know what the spell would do, I swear it."

They exited the Pensieve just after Harry had found the spell marked, "For enemies." Then it was Draco's turn. Harry hadn't removed the memory of the actual incident yet. They had decided to go with Harry's events up to that day, then with Draco's, and then back to Harry's, figuring it would make more sense to go chronologically.

Draco pulled out one long memory and placed it in the stone basin.

When Harry joined him in the Pensieve, it was to find Draco in the bathroom before Myrtle and he, Harry, had shown up. Draco was pacing back and forth, talking to himself.

"If you don't succeed, Draco, I'm afraid you'll leave me with no choice. Such a shame, too. Your father had been such a loyal servant for all these years. Too bad he couldn't get past Potter." Harry recognized the tones Draco was imitating - he was repeating what Voldemort had said to him.

Draco was pacing frantically around the bathroom. "Potter, Potter … it's always bloody Potter! Why is he always there? Why can't he just keep his nose out of everyone else's business?"

Harry watched as Draco pulled at his hair, clearly losing his battle with his nerves. "It's not as if anyone else could get past him either, not even the Dark Lord, but nooooo … he has to blame Father for it all." He continued to pace.

"And your mother. Such a lovely woman. A real tragedy that one so beautiful shall have to meet such an early demise." He pulled at his hair again, still pacing frantically about the room.

"And you, Draco. Cut down before you even become a man. Now that would be a true tragedy, wouldn't it?" The anger in Draco was swelling up that tears had started to form in his eyes. "ARGH!" he screamed, causing Harry to jump.

He watched as Myrtle entered the bathroom, and tried to get Draco to talk. She offered her help, getting more frantic by the moment. Then Harry watched himself enter the room, and Draco's eyes meet his own in the mirror.

Spells began to fly, Myrtle was getting more and more hysterical as the fight continued, and both the visiting Harry and Draco involuntarily got out of the way to continue observing from a distance. Harry heard Draco call "Cru --" just before Harry called "Sectumsempra!" and the memory faded. The two of them were back in Harry's rooms.

"Oh, Gods, Draco, I never knew." Harry looked into Draco's pale face, expecting to see anger, but all he saw was defeat.

"Well, now you do."

Harry removed one more memory - his version of the events - and placed it in the Pensieve. Once again, they entered together.

They watched as Harry consulted the map and found Draco on it.

"What is that thing?" Draco asked.

"Shh … I'll explain later."

They followed Harry's memory to the bathroom. The scene unfolded much the same as in Draco's memory - they were, after all, unaltered by perception. This time, however, Draco's call of "Cru --" seemed much louder, countered by Harry's call of "Sectumsempra!"

In Harry's memory, the scene didn't fade. They watched as Harry kept saying, "No, no, no," clearly in shock and devastated by what he had done. They listened to Myrtle scream, "Murder!" and watched Snape come in and heal Draco's wounds, all the while Harry standing transfixed and mortified by the scene. They watched Snape leave and Harry remain behind, pacing much the same way Draco had done before Harry had interrupted him.

The last they viewed was Snape entering Harry's mind and retrieving the memories of the book. Then they were back in Harry's room. He turned to look at Draco, expecting the other man to be angry with him, having to relive the incident twice. Instead, he looked pale and shocked.

"I was going to Crucio you," he said softly.

"I know."

"I didn't remember that."

"Oh. Well … it doesn't excuse what I --"

"Like hell it doesn't!" Draco screamed. Taking several calming breaths, he continued in a softer tone. "Why are you helping me, Harry? Why do you care? Why didn't you just let me die or go to prison? I would have done. I wouldn't have risked my life to save you. I would never put my job on the line for someone … someone like me."

Harry was shocked at this turn of events. He placed a calming hand on Draco's shoulder and said, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"I can't believe you! You're just like Dumbledore, trusting everybody, giving everyone a chance. A chance that they don't deserve … that I don't deserve."

"Draco, listen to me. I was not the only one helping people out of the mess Crabbe created. You saved Goyle from the Fiendfyre. He would have died if it weren't for you."

Draco looked as though he were considering what Harry said. "Perhaps so, but I wouldn't have saved you."

"Wouldn't you? It seems to me that you did. You can't tell me that you didn't know exactly who I was that day when we were captured and brought to the Manor."

"I didn't do anything to save you."

"Oh, really? Exactly what else could you have done? Without getting yourself and everyone else killed?" He held his hand up to prevent Draco from responding. "The answer, Draco, is nothing. There was nothing you could possible do except buy me time, which is what you did. You did save my life, whether you choose to admit it or not."

"But …" He looked at a loss for what to say.

"Let's just call us even, shall we?"

"I'd hardly call what we are 'even' … more like I'm forever in your debt."

"Perhaps technically, with the whole 'wizard's debt' thing, but I don't feel that way. After all, I'm not perfect, and I never pretended to be. I was rather obsessed with finding out what you were doing, after all."

"With good reason."

"Yes, but I was just as convinced that you were the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets back in second year. Well, until you told me you weren't."

"I never told you I wasn't."

"Er …" Harry could feel the blood rush to his face. "Anyway, I was wrong about that."

"What is it that you're not telling me?"

"I'd say that's a story for another time."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. After all, we have three years of working closely together in which we can discuss … well, quite a lot of things, I'd wager. Maybe even a few childhood secrets."

Draco smiled and leaned in, his breath caressing Harry's ear as he spoke. "And just how closely do you suppose we'll be working together … Harry?"

"Very closely, I reckon," Harry managed to choke out. Draco's proximity was doing wonderful things to him. He could feel his breath on his ear, and his hair tickling his cheek. And he could smell the scent of soap and the hint of cologne, and … the unmistakable, wonderfully masculine scent that was Draco.

At that moment, Harry decided that the games were over. He brought his hand around to stroke Draco's cheek, before weaving his fingers through his hair. As he pulled back, he gazed into soft, brilliant grey eyes and knew that Draco wanted this too. He leaned in to brush his lips softly against Draco's. He hesitated as he heard Draco's sharp intake of breath, but relaxed again as he felt arms wrap around him, and Draco brought their lips together once again.

Harry nipped longingly at Draco's lips, until Draco granted him access and their tongues met at last, entwined in dance. The feeling overwhelmed Harry with a sense of completion, overpowering desire, and a passion he had never before known. This man in his arms was what had been missing from his life, only he hadn't known it. As their tongues teased each other's, exploring unknown but welcome territory, Harry had the unmistakable feeling of coming home. His senses heightened, Harry thought - no, he knew - that there was nothing better in the entire world than being in this man's arms, kissing him.

As they reluctantly broke apart, they both grinned sheepishly at each other. "I have wanted to do that for so long," Draco offered, his breath raspy with desire.

"What?" Harry asked, trying to catch his own breath. "But you never --"

"Oh, no? The night we had dinner, when you said you wouldn't seduce me, I figured it could never happen. Gods, but I wanted you so badly. And no, it wasn't because you testified for me. We had become friends, in a manner of speaking, after the war - before my trial. And, well, I grew to fancy you, even at that time. And then McGonagall said I had to move into your rooms for two weeks. I didn't know how I'd get through that time without … well …"

Harry grinned like a loon at Draco's admission. "Mmm … me too. Never told anyone that, though."

Draco snorted. "I suppose not. I'm not exactly the one everyone expects the Great Harry Potter to end up with."

"Stop that," Harry retorted, scowling. "I really hate when you do that. You always sell yourself short, Draco, and it's not right. You were worth saving then, and you're worth … well, everything now."

Draco blinked furiously, and Harry took him in his arms, as he suspected he might have tears welling in his eyes. "You deserve this chance, Draco."

"Thank you. Thank you for everything, Harry."

The classes were a great success. After she got over her initial shock that, not only had they not killed each other, but Harry and Draco had started dating, Headmistress McGonagall decided to take a chance on them. She had not been disappointed.

As for Draco and Harry, they took things slowly. They knew that there was a lot of history to wade through, but they also knew that if they had managed to get past events from their sixth year onwards, they could get over anything else that had happened.

Draco had been surprised, and mildly impressed, at just how sneaky Harry had been during his years at school. He had also been jealous of the cloak and the map, but as Harry pointed out, they were very little in comparison with having his father, which he would easily have traded all his possessions to have.

The thing that shocked Draco the most was Harry's telling of his sorting, and the fact that he willingly chose not to go to Slytherin. When he had explained that the reason had been Draco himself, the blonde had gone very quiet.

They discussed how Harry had rejected Draco that first train ride, and how hurt he had been. Harry had been quick to judge back then, but he assured Draco that he had been wrong - even though, admittedly, Draco had been a prat. They spent a lot of days pondering "what ifs" before they came to the conclusion that they had been meant to take the path they took, in order to come to where they were today.

For his part, Harry had been surprised at what a pleasant childhood Draco had had. Not that he was surprised that Narcissa was a loving mother who cared for and doted on him. Nor was he surprised that Draco had been given any creature comfort a boy could ever want. What he had been surprised about was how loving and caring Lucius had been. Sure, it wasn't the same as a mother's love, but he had shown Draco that he cared. Only in later years - the years when Harry knew him, and even more after Voldemort's return - had he been tough on Draco. While Harry could never forgive Lucius, he was glad to know that Draco had known love as a child. Love that he, himself, had not.

Draco had been shocked at that, and was readying himself to go after the Dursleys after Harry told him about what it was like for him on Privet Drive. Bemused and secretly a little pleased at Draco's reaction, he had told him to just let the past remain in the past. It was done now.

Occasionally, they borrowed Slughorn's Pensieve, but most of the time they were content to rely on their own unassisted memories.

After a year, Draco moved back into Harry's quarters, which were cosy enough for the two of them, but had separate entrances so the students didn't talk. Not that that ever stopped them, but they did what they could.

"Well, this is it then," Harry said, sounding disappointed, as they took their seats at the staff table. "Our last day teaching classes together."

"You knew this was a temporary thing when we started it, Harry. My three years' probation is up, and I'd say it was a success. In large part, might I add, to my brilliant idea, and your unyielding support."

"Yeah, I suppose so … but still …"

"Mr. Potter, what is the matter with you? You look as though someone ran over your pet Kneazle."

"It's just that … well … it's nothing."

"Nothing doesn't generally cause people to pout, Mr. Potter."

"I'm not pouting!" he huffed.

Draco laughed. "Actually, you do look somewhat petulant."

"Fine, I'll just leave then," he said, making to take his toast for a walk with him.

"Really, Harry," Draco said in a calming voice generally reserved for the young. "It's not the end of the world. So we won't be working together anymore. We'll still see each other all the time." He gave Harry's hand a squeeze.

"But it won't be the same," Harry whined.

"Excuse me, but would you care to let me in on this? What's this about the two of you not working together?"

They exchanged a confused look before turning to McGonagall. "My probation is up," Draco said, stating the obvious.

"And what does that have to do with anything, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Er ..." He looked to Harry for support, but received only a shrug in response.

"Mmm … quite. Listen here, the both of you. I believe we can all agree that this arrangement - though I was dubious about it at first - has worked out wonderfully. I have seen more interaction between houses, Slytherins especially being more sociable than before, and the Defence classes have improved, for all the changes you have made. I, for one, have no intention of letting all your hard work go to waste. If you want it, Mr. Malfoy, a permanent position at Hogwarts is yours."

They both looked at her, mouths hanging open. She stared at Draco over her glasses, and he recovered at once. "Yes, ma'am … Professor … Headmistress. Yes, I would be thrilled to take the position in a permanent capacity."

"Very well, then. We shall discuss terms once the students have left on the train. I trust that we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement." She turned to look at Harry. "Now, Mr. Potter, may I trust that you will stop sulking and get some work done?"

Harry grinned as he felt his cheeks flush. "Yes, Headmistress."

"Excellent. Oh, and by the way, Mr. Potter," - she leaned in to whisper to him - "nice call about Mr. Malfoy here. He really was worth the gamble, wasn't he?"

"More than you could know," Harry said, looking over at his boyfriend of three years. His mind was already planning their private celebration for later that night. He really had been worth the gamble - that and so much more.

~ FIN

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