Drarry Oneshots 2

Memory Lost | You Found

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Summary: After his Auror training, Harry's assigned to guard the Department of Mysteries - specifically the room where Malfoy is being held in comfortable captivity. Yet no one will tell him why, and what's more concerning? Malfoy doesn't remember Harry at all.

To uncover the mystery, Harry must travel all the way to Egypt where he discovers a magical community living in the great pyramids and a long held secret that is dangerous to anyone who knows it.

Author: Anonymous (on ao3)

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Harry dreaded entering the Department of Mysteries. He was a proper Auror now, and there was no room in his life for silly fears. What happened to Sirius wasn't silly, he thought.

Still, in the morning he pulled on his scarlet Auror robes and trudged down to the DOM. He went through the two doors, then found himself in the circular room with the blue torches.

When the twelves doors began to rotate, he muttered a fucking hell. He was in no mood to play Ring a Ring o' Rosie.

"Mr Potter."

Harry turned and was relieved to see Penelope Clearwater. "Good morning, Unspeakable Clearwater."

"You're on time. Good. Now follow me." Without hesitating, she walked through a door, and Harry scurried after her.

They found themselves in the Brain Room, and Harry suppressed a shudder and tried not to think about what had happened to Ron in the room.

They moved quickly past the tanks of floating brains, Clearwater's heels clicking on the glistening stone floor.

At the end of the room was a door that was virtually hidden. They shouldered through it and crept down twisting stony steps. The air turned cold—ice cold.

The bottom level contained a single door. Auror Salisbury stood guard outside the door.

"You are dismissed, Salisbury," Clearwater said.

"Thank you, madam." Salisbury gave Harry a wink and scurried off. Harry was more than a little jealous of his departure.

Clearwater ushered him closer to the door. "Before you enter the cell, I must warn you that you know the man."

Harry knew he would be guarding somebody in the DOM, but the word cell shocked him. "Who is it?"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy."

Harry blinked several times. "I don't understand. He was acquitted on all war crime charges."

"We are not holding him for that," Clearwater said impatiently. "Don't you think he would be in Azkaban if this were about the war?" She said war as if it were a trivial thing.

Harry dropped his gaze so he wouldn't glare. Robards had told him he needed to work on his professionalism, so damnit, he was determined to act professionally.

"Will I be given access to his file?" Harry asked.

"That won't be necessary."

"I see." Professionalism.

Clearwater hesitated. "If you cannot do the job, tell me now. I would rather we both not waste our time here."

Harry forced his gaze back up to her bland face. "I can do the job."

"Good," she said, and unlocked the heavy door.

*

Harry thought Clearwater would follow him in, but he stepped into the cell alone, the door closing behind him. Cell wasn't the right description—the room was more of a studio flat with a bed, a sofa, a kitchen, and a separate bathroom in the corner.

"Oh, hello."

Harry swerved toward the voice. Draco Malfoy was curled in a chair, a book opened in his lap. Malfoy's eyes widened a little when he saw Harry.

"Are you my new guard?" Malfoy's tone was almost pleasant.

"Um. Yeah. I think so." Harry grimaced. I think so?

"What is your name?"

What the fuck? "Harry. Harry Potter."

Malfoy set aside his book and stood. Harry hadn't seen him in a year, not since his trial, and Malfoy looked good. He looked healthy, his skin just a shade darker than his usual milky tone.

Harry expected Malfoy to sneer, perhaps even try to fight him, but Malfoy just stood there and gazed at him politely.

"Err—um. How are you doing, Malfoy?"

Malfoy tilted his head. "Do you know me?"

"What?"

"They didn't tell you about me, did they?"

"I'm just your guard. I don't need to know the specifics."

"You aren't just my guard," Malfoy answered calmly. "They mean to make you my companion."

"Sorry?"

"I admit that my mind is a bit muddled at the moment, but aren't guards supposed to just stand there and not say anything?"

"Err. Yeah."

"Right ... So why are you standing here talking to me alone?"

"Because Unspeakable Clearwater asked it of me."

Sighing, Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not my first, you know. They've marched loads of fit blokes in here ... they want me to talk, I suppose. They think I'm lying."

Harry was distracted by Malfoy saying fit blokes. "Um. I'm still not following."

Malfoy chewed his bottom lip. He suddenly looked a bit shy. Harry had never seen such an expression on his face. "I suppose it's not hard to see how much I want."

"Sorry?" Harry said again, frustrated. Malfoy was looking at him in a way that made his skin heat up. Oh, no, no. Professionalism. "Let's have a seat and start from the beginning."

"Oh, all right. Would you care for some tea?"

"Um, yeah. Sure."

Malfoy moved to the teapot on the table and poured Harry a neat cup. "Milk and sugar?"

"Yes." Harry cleared his throat. "Thank you."

Malfoy handed him his tea and their fingers brushed. Malfoy took up the chair opposite him. "I don't remember almost anything."

"You mean you don't even remember me?"

Malfoy's mouth twisted a little. "Why would I remember you?"

"It's complicated."

"Were we lovers?"

Harry spat out his tea. "What?"

"I suppose not." Malfoy dropped his gaze. He almost looked disappointed.

Harry gulped his tea and stared at the man opposite him. Malfoy wore a cosy jumper that was about two sizes too big for him. The neck drooped, revealing an elegant collarbone, a slim shoulder.

"So, what do you recall?" Harry asked.

Malfoy frowned, his eyes going a touch vacant. "I remember ... my mother, I think. She was blonde and fashionable and smelled of peonies."

"What about your father?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I've tried, really I have. It's not as if I have loads and loads to do stuck in here."

"What else do you recall?"

"I remember ... the desert, I think. Hot sand. I remember sweating as I read through scrolls."

"Huh." Harry took another swallow of his tea. "I believe you went abroad. After."

Malfoy blinked at him. "After what?"

Harry fumbled with an answer. "I reckon I shouldn't say. None of the other fit blokes told you, so I reckon I should keep my mouth shut."

Looking down, Malfoy fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper. He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. His mouth was very pink—very kissable.

Stop it, Harry told himself sternly. He had spent years and years despising Malfoy. He needed to remember that and stop ... noticing him.

"You're spilling your tea."

Harry felt hot liquid in his lap. "Oh, bugger." He scrambled to right his teacup and clean up the mess he made.

Malfoy was suddenly on his knees before Harry, a serviette in hand. "No, please, let me." He patted the wet spot on Harry's thigh gently.

"Um." Harry felt himself flush all over. Malfoy was on his knees—touching him.

Malfoy glimpsed his expression and snatched his hand away. "Sorry." He stood just as quickly as he'd knelt. He turned his back away and chucked the serviette onto the table. "I just wanted to help."

"It's weird," Harry said awkwardly.

"Sorry," Malfoy said again. He sat back down, looking utterly miserable.

"It's weird because it's not you."

"Not me?"

Harry made a vague motion with his hand. He still felt where Malfoy had touched him. "You hated me."

Malfoy made a noise in his throat, a soft little hum. "Yes, hate. I think I understand now."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure it's easy to hate you."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to insult me?"

"No," Malfoy said. "I'm trying to compliment you."

"Again, I don't follow."

Malfoy's bright gaze ran up and down Harry's body. "You are quite handsome, you know. Gorgeous, even."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Um."

Malfoy cocked his head. "Do you fancy men?"

Harry stood suddenly. "Um. Um."

"Please don't go," Malfoy said quickly.

"But I must—I have important things—very important—"

"I promise not to ask you any more questions. Just please don't go."

Harry was headed for the door, but he stopped and turned around. "Are you frightened?"

"Yes. No. I'm lonely."

"I'll be back, don't worry."

"That's what they all say," Malfoy said sadly.

Harry fled the room and nearly collided with Unspeakable Clearwater. "What was that?" he hissed once the door was closed.

"We think Mr Malfoy is lying."

"You could have warned me that he would be like that!"

Clearwater didn't react. "We thought you understood he's a master manipulator."

"What about truth serums—legilimency?"

Sighing, Clearwater said, "We've already tried that, but Mr Malfoy passed each one with flying colours."

"Then why am I here? Why is he here?"

"The why is not your concern. We want results, that is all." She gave him a long, hard look. "Will you return tomorrow? At the same time?"

"Yes, but tell me: Am I meant to be a guard or a spy?"

"Both."

*

By the time Harry returned home that night, his mind was in turmoil and his body was needy.

Grimmauld Place was dark and cold, and Harry poured himself a finger of whisky and sat by the fire. The flames chased away the chill in the air.

Harry didn't know what to do. He was barely out of training, and this assignment felt wrong. No matter how many different ways he thought about it, the situation still filled him with suspicion. Why were they holding Malfoy in the DOM and not with the other temporarily incarcerated in the DMLE? And if his imprisonment was meant to be long term, why hadn't they shipped him off to Azkaban? Why was all the secrecy necessary?

After everything he'd experienced during the war, Harry wasn't blind to the Ministry's faults. He knew the Ministry used people. He knew the Ministry did harm. He had become an Auror to fight the corruption, the complacency. The entire thing with Malfoy stunk of dishonesty.

Sighing, Harry gulped his whisky. The liquor burned his throat and almost made him choke. He poured himself some more.

Harry wanted to tell Hermione and Ron, but he couldn't. He wanted their opinion, their guidance, but the DMLE would sack him if they found out he divulged such confidential information. It all made Harry feel very lonely.

Harry remembered how Malfoy had told him he was lonely. Harry sipped his whisky and rested his head back.

He was so bloody fit, Harry thought. Admitting it felt like a betrayal to himself. How could he so easily admit to finding Malfoy attractive after everything they had been through?

Malfoy had stomped his face in, for Merlin's sake, but ... but ... those eyes. Harry remembered how cosy he had looked. He had somehow looked both soft and elegant, and Harry wanted to touch him. He wanted to press his mouth to that pale neck and breathe him in. He imagined Malfoy smelling warm and cosy as if he had just spent his day baking delicious sweets.

His cock was going hard.

"Fuck," Harry muttered. He slammed his tumbler down and cradled his face. He didn't want to be attracted to Malfoy. He didn't want to be attracted to any man. He wanted to be married to a woman—to Ginny. He wanted what he had always imagined for himself.

Harry pushed himself from the chair and realised he had made a mistake in drinking so quickly. His interaction with Malfoy had ruined his day, and he had been so distracted that he had forgotten to eat. Now he felt queasy.

Harry stumbled over to the portrait on the wall. She had been staring at him this whole time.

"Mrs Black." He inclined his head.

"Don't you dare sick up on my floor."

"I need information."

Her dark eyes glittered. She had Sirius' eyes except for the colour. "I will do my best to assist you."

"The portraits in Malfoy Manor—do you have access to them?"

"Yes," she answered carefully.

"I need to know what happened to Draco Malfoy after the war. Where he went ... what company he kept."

"Oh, I already know that."

Harry blinked at her. "Yes? Tell me." He knew Walburga Black liked her drama. He waited patiently for her to answer.

"It's quite sad what happened. Draco's decision left my niece devastated."

"What was his decision?"

"Narcissa wanted him to marry Astoria Greengrass ... a pretty young lady with perfect breeding." Her gaze narrowed a little as if she just remembered Harry had a Muggleborn mother.

"Go on."

"But Draco didn't want to marry Astoria. He wanted to flee ... to avoid his duty. I tell you the Malfoys can be such cowards. If Draco had been my son, I would have—"

"Walburga," Harry said, using her first name for emphasis.

Mrs Black sniffed. "They said he fled to Egypt."

"Why?"

"He wanted to get his hands dirty. He wanted to disgrace his family. He wanted to become a Curse Breaker."

"Ah."

Perhaps Malfoy was cursed and that was how he had lost his memory ....

"Thank you, Mrs Black," Harry said.

Her expression dipped when she realised he intended to end the conversation. "Wait—do you want to know a secret?"

"Go on."

Mrs Black thrived on gossip. She leaned forward in her painting as if she didn't want others hearing. "They say that Draco is different. They say he prefers the company of men."

Harry finally lost hold of his patience. "You have a good evening, Mrs Black." He left her in the parlour and headed for the kitchen.

As he made himself a sad dinner of bread and cheese, he ignored the throbbing of his cock. It wasn't a surprise that the man he met in the DOM preferred men, but it was a surprise that Draco Malfoy did.

Harry didn't know how to feel about the information.

*

The next day Harry arrived early to the Ministry so he would have time to do a bit of research in the official archive. Part of him wanted to be secretive about the entire thing, but another part of him wanted to be reprimanded for taking an interest in his new assignment. If he were reprimanded, then he would get a chance to ask some questions, or at least that was what he hoped.

He also wanted to know exactly who was all involved. Did Robards support what the DOM was doing to Draco Malfoy? Did Minister Shacklebolt?

The archive was cavernous and disorderly, and the bloke who worked it looked vampiric and nerdy. He grimaced when he saw Harry walk in.

"Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for information on Draco Lucius Malfoy in Egypt."

The bloke's grimace deepened. "Draco ... Malfoy. The Death Eater?"

"Ex-Death Eater. He swore to it during his trial."

"Right, right." He sounded entirely unconvinced.

Robards is going to know I was here before lunchtime, Harry thought. He was sure Robards wouldn't think he was being professional by meddling.

The bloke stared at him for a moment before he turned away and began sifting through documents.

"What is your name?" Harry asked his back.

"Balkons, sir."

Harry filed away the information in his head.

It took a few minutes, but Balkons returned from the crowded aisles holding a single scroll.

Harry frowned. "Is this it?"

"Yes, sir."

Harry unfurled the scroll and spread it out against the desk. It contained merely a receipt of Malfoy's booked passage via magical caravan.

Harry scrutinised Balkons for a long moment. "Is this truly it? There's no announcement of his departure ... no photographs. No letters?"

"I'm afraid not." Balkons' expression dimmed. "I'm very sorry, sir."

"May I take a copy of this?"

"Yes, but first you must fill out a form ... we keep concise records here, of course."

"Of course," Harry said, but he thought Rubbish.

*

Later in the day, Harry returned to Malfoy.

Malfoy jumped to his feet when Harry walked into his comfortable cell. "Oh, hello," he said eagerly.

Just looking at him made Harry's cock throb. Harry gulped.

"I've returned," he said.

"Yes, you have," Malfoy said, still so eager. There was a light flush to his cheeks, and his eyes were bright, so bright. A wonderful scent radiated from him—sandalwood and clove, perhaps.

Harry took a step closer. He realised he was in a bad mood. He was sleep deprived and frustrated. He wanted to put his hands on Malfoy.

"I've been thinking about you," Harry said, just to see how Malfoy would react.

Malfoy's flush deepened. He dropped his gaze. "Oh."

"You lied a lot, you know. When we were children."

Malfoy snapped his gaze up. "We knew each other when we were children?"

We are still children, Harry thought. Or at least we should be. They were barely twenty years old.

"We were enemies at school."

Malfoy sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and it distracted Harry. Was Malfoy doing it on purpose?

Harry stalked closer. He was in his Auror robes, and he felt powerful. Training had made him quite broad. Malfoy's eyes widened and he stumbled back.

"Would you care for some tea?" Malfoy asked, breathless.

"I want to know if you're lying to me."

"I'm not."

"Are you lying to them?"

Malfoy frowned. "No."

"What is the first thing you remember? Other than the desert and the scrolls."

"I remember ... being in a room. It was dark and cold, and there were blue torches on the walls. I believe it's somewhere close, because they marched me down corridors, upstairs, downstairs, before we came to this room."

"What did you think was happening?"

"I thought they were going to kill me."

"Who were they? What did they look like?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I don't remember exactly. I try to, but it's all blurry. I don't think they want me to remember."

Harry sighed and scrubbed his face. "I would like that cup of tea now. If you don't mind."

"Yes, of course." Malfoy hurried to fix his tea. He came close to hand it to Harry, and his scent reached for him.

They sat in the same chairs and sipped from their cups. Malfoy's face was still flushed. He kept sneaking glances at Harry.

Finally, Malfoy whispered, "Will you tell me what I was like?"

Harry looked at him sharply. He was so damn attracted to Malfoy that it made him suspicious. Malfoy shouldn't look so pretty whispering like that. "What do you think you were like?"

Malfoy pressed his lips together. His pulse thudded in his vulnerable neck. "I ... I suppose I was bookish."

"Oh." Harry faltered. "It's possible. I didn't see you reading all that much, but I saw you studying, and you received top marks in some of our classes."

Malfoy beamed. "Good."

"Do you reckon you were a swot?"

Malfoy pulled his bottom lip into his mouth again. He looked away. "I hope I was. I've found that I like to read very much ... and I sense that competition is important to me."

"You sense it?"

"Yes."

Harry was staring at his mouth, he couldn't help it. If he kissed Malfoy right now, Malfoy would taste like Earl Grey.

"I want to still hate you," Harry said, voice soft.

"Are you in a relationship?" Malfoy was looking at the wall as he said this.

Harry nearly dropped his cup. "What?"

"With a woman ... or a man?"

"I'm not—no." To change the subject, Harry asked, "How do you spend your days in here? Just drink tea and read books?"

"Yes, and wait for them to come."

"Who?"

Malfoy shrugged. "The people in the white cloaks. They take me to a room with only a few lights. They experiment on me."

"What?"

"At least, I think that's what they are doing. They cast spells on me ... rummage inside my head. They are trying to uncover something, but I don't know what."

"Does it hurt?"

"Only sometimes."

"Jesus."

Malfoy looked at Harry then, his bright grey eyes pinning him to his seat. "May I speak openly?"

"Um."

"May I?"

"Um. Sure."

Malfoy was still looking at him. "I think you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

Harry dropped his cup and the porcelain shattered on the floor. "Sorry," he said, somehow on his feet. "Sorry, sorry."

"Don't clean it up. I will do that."

"You're having a laugh," Harry said, too hot.

Malfoy blinked at him. "No."

"You mean to ... did someone tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I must go. I'm sorry."

"No, please stay! Please—play a game with me."

"Another game? One that you are not already playing?"

Malfoy flinched. "I'm not—I just—"

Harry thought about the possibility of Unspeakable Clearwater watching them. What she had asked of him. "Fine," he said, taking a deep breath. "Let's play your game."

Malfoy's expression brightened. "Do you prefer chess? Or Exploding Snap? I even have Gobstones."

"Chess," Harry growled.

They set up the chessboard on the table and Malfoy cleaned up the mess and made Harry another cup of tea.

As they played, Harry paid more attention to Malfoy than the board.

"Tell me more about myself?" Malfoy said after a while. "Please?"

Please. Harry liked hearing Malfoy say the word very much.

"You were a massive prick," Harry said, still watching.

Malfoy flinched. "I'm sorry for it."

"I doubt that you truly are."

"No—it's another thing I sense." Malfoy touched elegant fingers to his slim chest. "Here."

"You sense it in your chest?"

"I sense the regret ... the shame. Sometimes I can't breathe and I don't know why."

Harry felt the sudden urge to overturn the entire table. He didn't trust Malfoy. He didn't trust the Ministry, either.

Harry had spent the war sneaking about, hiding and hiding. He was tired of running from the Ministry. He was tired of fearing them. He wanted to be a bull in a china shop.

"I went to the Ministry archive this morning," he said loudly. If Clearwater was listening, he wanted to make sure she heard.

"Oh?" Malfoy asked innocently.

"Yes. To look up information on you."

Malfoy leaned forward eagerly. "And what did you discover?"

"A coverup."

*

After Harry left Malfoy, he forced himself to go to the canteen. He was hungry and needed to eat. He expected Clearwater to track him down, ambush him in the middle of his cheese and pickle sandwich, but it was Hermione who stumbled on him.

"How lovely it is to see you!" She leaned down to give him a hug.

They sat at the small table together, eating their lunch. Hermione had much on her mind.

"You wouldn't believe the things that go on in the Wizengamot!" she said around a swallow of soup.

"What things?"

She hesitated. "Oh, you know. Things."

He let her continue. She was speaking in such vague terms about her job that it was difficult to follow.

Hermione doesn't trust me, Harry thought, feeling a bit queasy. Then: Do I trust her?

"You seem distracted," she said suddenly.

"Yes ... it's my new assignment."

She hesitated again. "Oh."

"It's in the—"

"Yes, I know!"

"How?"

"People gossip. They saw you walking down there." She lowered her voice. "Still, don't say it."

"Why not?"

She gave him a sceptical look. "I'm sure you were briefed about the need for confidentiality. You could muck up everything if you told me."

"What if—" He stopped himself. What if I wanted to muck up everything?

Smiling warmly, she patted him on the hand. "You are new to the job. It's unfortunate that Auror training lasts nearly a year. I was just as unsure as you are when I first started my job."

"Right."

*

After lunch, he headed straight for Robards' office. Robards turned purple when he spotted Harry.

"Get in here and close the door," he growled.

Harry crossed the threshold and carefully closed the door. He sat down in a chair.

Robards glowered at him from across his messy desk. "What are you doing?"

"Sir?"

"I thought we'd come to an understanding."

"About ... professionalism?"

"Yes."

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't know how much Robards knew.

"You are young, Potter. And the problem with the young is they think they know everything."

Harry squeezed his hands together in his lap. "Why is the DOM holding Malfoy?"

"That is none of your concern!" Robards' voice was loud. With an angry grunt, Robards cast a Silencing Charm on the office.

"It's my assignment. I should know some details."

"No."

Harry raised his chin stubbornly. "Why not?"

"Because you've been a proper Auror for less than a month. Because you are too young."

"Too young, but not too inexperienced."

"The war was different."

"Was it?"

Robards eyed him angrily. "This will not work if you refuse to take orders."

"I don't refuse. I just don't want to be treated as if I'm stupid."

"You are stupid," Robards growled.

"I'm stupid because I won't ignore that the DOM is holding a man against his will?"

"We have our reasons!"

We.

Harry sat up in his chair. Of course the DMLE was in on this as well. Of course, of course.

"I learned that Malfoy was in Egypt," Harry said just to see Robards' reaction.

"Enough!"

"Is it true that he was in Egypt? And if so, what happened to him to make the Ministry interested in him?"

"I said enough." There was a long, heavy pause. "If you don't stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, I will be forced to remove you from the assignment and to place you on suspension. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," Harry said.

*

That night, when Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, he found an old house-elf waiting in his parlour.

"How did you get in here?"

The house-elf bowed deeply. "My name is Mapsy, sir. My mistress sent me, sir."

"Who is your mistress?"

"Narcissa Malfoy, sir."

Harry turned to the portrait of Mrs Black. She was not there. He turned back to the elf.

"What does your mistress want with me?"

"Will you come with me, sir? She hopes to speak to you, sir."

Harry shuddered. "To Malfoy Manor?"

"Yes, sir."

A coverup, Harry thought. He said, "Yes, all right."

*

Harry and Mapsy touched down in a drawing room of the Manor. Harry gazed around himself and took a deep breath. He was glad they hadn't landed outside, where he would have to gaze upon the Manor's dark, ominous face.

Narcissa entered the room. "Good evening."

"Um, hello."

Narcissa was dressed elegantly, perhaps too elegantly. Jewels glittered at her throat. She looked well, but her eyes were dark, swollen—as if she had been crying.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Um. Yes."

Narcissa took a seat by the roaring fire. "Please, join me. Do you care for a cup of tea? Have you had your dinner?"

It reminded Harry of how Malfoy had pushed tea on him during his visits. "I'm okay, thank you." He joined Narcissa by the fire. "Why am I here?"

Narcissa sighed as Mapsy poured her tea. "Not one for pleasantries, Mr Potter?"

"I've had a long day." And I had hoped to never step foot in Malfoy Manor ever again.

"You are a new Auror, aren't you?"

Harry was suspicious even though the press reported on most of the events in his life. "Yes."

"Are you enjoying it?" Her voice was very careful.

"It's a relief to finally be out of training."

She gave him a soft smile. "I can imagine."

He leaned forward in his chair. "Tell me why I am here."

"Walburga spoke to me. She said you had asked about my Draco."

Of course Mrs Black had betrayed his trust. Even in death she chose sides.

"Do you know where he is?" Harry asked.

Narcissa speared him with a look. "Why ask me if you already know?"

"Why do you think I know where your son is?"

Narcissa gave a fluid shrug. She looked very much like Malfoy at that moment. "I know that the Ministry has him."

"How?"

"I have contacts, of course. I'm a Malfoy and a Black, and my blood still means something in our world."

"You have enough influence to get people to do what you want. You don't need me."

Narcissa just gazed at him.

Harry inspected the room around him. Everything was expensive, refined. The space was filled with antiques. "Your family was ordered to pay Reparations."

"Yes."

"But I read in the Prophet that Voldemort cleared out the Malfoy vaults."

Her face twitched. He didn't know if it was because he had said Voldemort's name or because he mentioned the vaults.

She didn't want to answer.

"You must tell me if you want my help."

"Why do you think I want your help?"

"You would have sent an owl otherwise."

She sighed heavily. "The Ministry has your same suspicions, you know. They can't figure out how we are getting the money. They want us to be disgraced."

"How are you getting the money?"

"No." She clutched the arms of her chair. "I didn't ask you here to tell you that. I asked you here to tell you about Draco."

"Go on then. Mrs Black said he went to Egypt."

"It's true."

"Because he wanted to be a Curse Breaker?"

Narcissa gave him a funny smile. "We both know my son is a coward, Mr Potter."

Harry frowned. Yes, Malfoy had done cowardly things, but some of his actions had been brave as well. It would have been so easy for Malfoy to give him over to Bellatrix and Voldemort during the war.

"He is too much of a coward to be a Curse Breaker?"

"My son wanted to be an archaeologist. He had a fascination with ancient Egypt."

"Oh." Harry swallowed thickly. "I hadn't known."

Narcissa sighed again. "We used to think nothing would come of it, my husband and I. Malfoys didn't acquire occupations. They married pureblood women and sired children. They made themselves useful in politics, in society. They didn't prod about in the dirt, searching for treasure."

"Mrs Black made it seem like Malfoy had run away."

"It is true."

"Because he didn't want to marry?"

"Yes."

"So he ran off to Egypt and lived as he wished?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"What happened to him in Egypt?"

Narcissa fiddled with her teacup, then her stiff serviette. The jewels around her neck captured the firelight.

"I was told that a magical accident had occurred. My son had been digging about in the wrong corner of a pyramid and somehow managed to unleash the Egyptian god Seth."

"What?"

Narcissa gave another elegant shrug. "Along with unleashing the god, he uncovered a coveted ancient secret. In retaliation, and to protect this ancient secret, Seth stole my son's memory."

Harry blinked several times. "Do you have any proof that this actually happened?"

"Other than my son no longer knowing himself? No."

"It seems too ... fantastical to believe."

"Utterly fantastical. We are magical folk, yes, but we do not believe in gods. At least not the type who awakens in a crypt."

"And what of this secret your son uncovered? Do you know it?"

She smiled thinly. "It would no longer be a secret if I knew of it."

Harry was silent for a long moment, pondering everything. "What do you want of me?"

"I want you to save him, of course."

*

Harry was mad. Truly. He was mad and determined, and he knew he couldn't wait until morning. If he slept, his common sense would overwhelm him as he lay in his bed, defenceless and unknowing. He had to act before he lost his nerve.

London was storming when he made it back from Wiltshire. Black thunder shook the old town.

In his pocket he carried his invisibility cloak. He had intended to use it to rummage in Draco Malfoy's wardrobes and cupboards, but Narcissa had given him enough information. It might have been all lies—it sure sounded like all lies—but it was enough to set Harry in motion.

Sneaking into the Department of Mysteries made Harry feel queasy and sad. He thought of Sirius falling through the curtain. He thought of Ron fighting for his life against the assaulting brains. He even thought of the dead Death Eaters, and pitied them.

Perhaps saving Malfoy would make Harry stop thinking of Sirius. Perhaps it would make him stop fearing the DOM.

Auror Salisbury stood guard in front of Malfoy's cell. Beneath his cloak, Harry muttered, "Immediatam Somno." Salisbury slumped to the floor, asleep.

Malfoy was in bed when Harry entered his cell. He awoke to the sound of Harry's footsteps and sat up. The duvet dropped to reveal his pale chest.

"Who is it?" He sounded afraid.

Harry crept close to whisper in his ear. "Get dressed. I'm getting you out of here."

"Harry," Malfoy breathed.

"Quickly!"

Malfoy tore from bed, his pale body gleaming in the shadows. He pulled on a jumper and trousers, then a black cloak. The cloak was a good idea.

"You can't take anything, I'm afraid."

"It's okay."

Harry grabbed Malfoy's hand and pulled him from the cell. In the corridor, they paused to listen for noise. Harry heard only eerie silence.

"Come on." Harry pulled Malfoy down the corridor, then another. He thought to retrace their steps, but the stony walls seemed to know he was doing wrong. They pressed in on them.

"Harry—"

"Run!"

Together, still holding hands, they ran down corridor after corridor. Harry was looking for stairs—anything really—but all they found were empty corridors.

Then Harry heard a voice. It was so, so familiar.

Harry turned and gasped. Sirius stood in the doorway—a doorway that hadn't been there a moment before.

Sirius gave him a warm smile. "I've been waiting for you, Harry. My godson."

Harry stumbled forward, but Malfoy hung onto him. "Don't," Malfoy whispered harshly.

Thoughts twisted, so twisted, Harry said, "I thought you were dead."

"I wasn't. I'm not. I've been waiting for you. Come. Follow me."

Harry stepped closer. With Malfoy still tugging on him, he entered the room. The moment they stepped over the threshold, the door slammed shut behind them.

"Sirius—I've missed you," Harry said.

"I know." Sirius stood in the centre of an empty room, still smiling at him warmly. "You shouldn't do bad things, Harry."

"I'm not—I'm doing the right thing."

"Harry—I think I hear footsteps!" Malfoy tugged his hand. "There's another doorway—just let me pull you—"

Harry tried to struggle—he didn't, couldn't leave Sirius—but Malfoy was very insistent.

When they reached the other door, Malfoy slammed his whole body into it and it opened with a crack.

Then Harry heard it, too—the footsteps. He looked back at Sirius and realised the man didn't appear real. His outline was vague—like a ghost's.

"Come on!" Malfoy tugged him through the door just as the other one opened. Harry glimpsed a white robe.

Once Sirius was out of his sight, Harry snapped to attention. Right. They were in the Department of Mysteries—fleeing. And that hadn't been Sirius. It had been a trap.

"Fuck!" Harry tightened his hold on Malfoy's hand, and they sprinted down the new corridor. They skidded around a corner, and—

Yes! Stairs!

They vaulted up the stairs and burst through a door. Miraculously, they were in a corridor, above the DOM.

"Here, put this on," Harry said, throwing the invisibility cloak over Malfoy's shoulders. "You've got to hunch so your feet don't show."

"Wow," Malfoy said, presumably staring down at his invisible form.

"Follow closely. Don't make a sound. We're catching a lift out of here."

They crept down to the lifts and gingerly stepped inside one. It was still very late, not even close to morning yet, so all the lifts were unoccupied.

When they reached the atrium, Harry let out a little breath. They crept across the empty room, the fountain trickling almost ominously.

Then, finally, finally, they made it to the pavement outside the hidden Ministry.

Harry pulled an invisible Malfoy into his arms, turned, and Disapparated.

*

Grimmauld Place was quiet when they landed in the parlour. Harry's gaze sought out Mrs Black but her portrait was empty.

Harry stepped forward. He meant to shrug out of his cloak and head to the kitchen, casual, so casual, but he realised he couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

"You're shaking," Malfoy said as he set the invisibility cloak on the sofa.

"Yes."

"That man who tried to trap us—"

"He was a ghost. He wasn't real."

"He knew you."

Harry sucked air, but his chest was too tight. "He was my godfather. He—" Strangely, Harry felt something wet on his cheeks. Was he bleeding?

"Oh, Harry," Malfoy murmured. He took Harry into his arms, embracing him. "Shh, it's okay. Everything is okay."

Harry wanted to ask him what he was going on about, but then a sob tore through him. No, he couldn't cry. He needed to be strong. He needed to protect Malfoy.

Malfoy rubbed his hands in soothing circles along Harry's back. "It's okay, everything's okay," he murmured.

Something broke in Harry, and he had no choice. He pressed his face to Malfoy's warm neck and cried. His entire body shook with it.

"You loved him," Malfoy said quietly.

Yes, yes, Harry thought. I loved him and now he's gone.

"He died, didn't he?"

"Yes," Harry croaked.

"Tell me about it."

Harry didn't want to talk about it, but he heard himself speak anyway. "I was only fifteen and I saw it. We were battling Death Eaters and he fell through a stupid curtain. I hate myself for letting it happen."

"You were just a child."

"Yes, but—"

"It wasn't your fault."

"Of course, but—" Harry stopped, trying to find the words. Finally: "I managed to save so many other people. Why couldn't I have also saved him?"

"I don't remember any of it, but I do remember that the world can be a terrible place. Sometimes mistakes happen, and there's absolutely nothing we can do about it."

Instead of answering, Harry buried his face in Malfoy's soft jumper. Malfoy smelled so, so good. He felt even better.

Malfoy hugged him closer, his pointed, arrogant nose buried in Harry's hair. He wasn't being arrogant now.

That's only because he doesn't know himself, Harry thought.

Harry tried to pull away but Malfoy hung on. Then Harry moved again and Malfoy let go with reluctance.

Embarrassed, Harry laughed. "We probably shouldn't touch like that."

Malfoy blinked at him. "Why?"

"Because you wouldn't like it. The old you."

"Somehow I doubt that." Malfoy looked around. "Where's your kitchen? We should have tea."

"It's downstairs. I'll show you."

They stomped down the creaking steps and Harry swished on a few candles. Malfoy found the kettle. "I don't have my wand, will you?" Malfoy said.

"Yeah," Harry said, still feeling awkward. With a spell, he filled up the kettle, then set the water to boil. Malfoy found the teabags and two chipped mugs. They sat at the old table to drink their tea.

"Milk and sugar?" Malfoy said politely.

"Oh, right." Harry Summoned both.

They enjoyed their tea in silence, but Malfoy kept looking at Harry meaningfully. Harry didn't know what to say. He had done a stupid, stupid thing, and the reality of it was just setting in.

When their tea was gone, Harry stood and said, "I should probably explain how I plan to protect you."

Malfoy stood as well, still staring at Harry. "You saved me," Malfoy murmured. Then he was suddenly right there, and his lush mouth was too damned close to Harry's. He dropped a warm kiss to his cheek.

Harry shuddered away. "You mustn't do that."

"Why?"

"Because your real self wouldn't like it."

"I am my real self."

For a moment, Harry felt his world go off-kilter until he realised what Malfoy was saying. "Yes, I'm sure, but your memories mean something. They are significant."

Malfoy wrapped his arms around himself. "They will find me, you know. It won't take long."

"Yes, and I'm sure this will be one of the first places they look. Come along."

They went up to the top level where all the broken things lived. Nestled between a shattered mirror and a legless settee stood a door.

"This door and the room beyond it is protected," Harry explained. "I learned of it after the war, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

"Yes," Harry said, not wanting to go into detail. He took Malfoy's hand and guided him into the room. It was dustless, but dark, and the bed was as old as the house. Possibly even older.

Malfoy turned in a circle, holding himself again. "Please don't leave me here."

"It's safe. I promise."

"Please." Malfoy reached out a hand. "I'm so sick of being alone."

Somehow Harry found himself taking his hand. He let Malfoy guide him to the bed. They slipped off their shoes and cloaks, and sneaked under the thin duvet. The bedding smelled of rosemary.

Malfoy was so warm beside him. Harry's cock throbbed.

"You must come here if there ever is a visitor. I've Warded my Floo, and the house has its own enchantments in place, but the Ministry is coming."

"I don't want you to be in danger because of me."

Harry smiled. "I've always been in danger. It's nothing new."

Malfoy turned on his side. In the darkness his eyes glittered wetly. "I wish you would kiss me. You want to, don't you?"

"Hush," Harry said, and his voice was a croak. "It isn't the time for such things."

"Why not?"

"Because you aren't yourself."

Malfoy sighed so softly. "But I am. I am."

"Because of the way your chest feels?"

"Looking at you is like finding the last piece to my puzzle. We would fit so nicely together, don't you think?"

"Malfoy, go to sleep. We will talk about it in the morning."

"Call me Draco. Please."

Harry brushed their fingers together. "Draco," he whispered.

*

In the morning, Harry slipped from bed while Malfoy slept on. He let himself peer down at the other man for a moment, taking in his mussed white blond hair, his cruel mouth with his enticing bottom lip. Malfoy's eyes fluttered in sleep. His eyelashes were very pretty.

Luckily, it was Saturday morning, and Harry didn't have work. To keep up appearances, he went for his usual weekend morning jog. The pavement was slick from the overnight storm, and his mind was in turmoil. He pushed himself hard, imagining that Clearwater and Robards chased after him.

In the harsh morning light, Harry understood he had committed a crime. Would the Ministry chuck him into Azkaban? Perhaps. Did he care? Perhaps not.

He remembered Robards squawking at him about professionalism and nearly laughed.

When Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, he was greeted by the delicious scent of a fry up. Before he ventured down to the kitchen, he glanced again at Mrs Black' portrait. The canvas was still empty. Suspicious.

Down in the kitchen, Malfoy was wearing Harry's clothes and frying up eggs and sausage and tomatoes.

"Um," Harry said.

Malfoy turned. He was wearing a Weasley jumper. "Good morning," he said brightly.

Harry laughed, he couldn't help it. "I feel a bit touched seeing you in that jumper. It's as if I'm hallucinating."

Frowning, Malfoy said, "Why? Is it wrong?"

"For you? Yes. You hate the Weasleys."

"The Weasleys," Malfoy said slowly. "Do they own a clothing shop or something?"

Harry laughed again. He came closer, feeling so warm inside. He wanted to take Malfoy into his arms, but he didn't.

Harry leaned against the counter. He realised he was all sweaty from his jog. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh, no, no. Well, I suppose you can make the tea. I was able to light the hob with a candlestick, but I can't Conjure up water without a wand. It's a strange thing for a kitchen not to have a tap."

"What do you know about kitchens?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I just assume one needs a tap to run a proper kitchen. Water is quite essential to cooking, isn't it?"

"This kitchen was made for magic users, hence no tap or refrigerator." It felt so weird to describe magical things to Draco Malfoy.

"There's taps in the lavatories."

"Yes ... I suppose that doesn't make sense, does it?" Harry leaned closer despite himself. Malfoy had taken a shower and his hair was still a bit wet. He smelled like Harry's soap.

Harry made the tea and Malfoy plated their breakfast. Then they sat at the kitchen table again, and Harry took his time eating. He really couldn't stop looking at Malfoy.

"Is this really your home?" Malfoy asked suddenly.

"Oh, um. Yeah."

Malfoy frowned and ate a bit of sausage.

"What? Do you not believe me?"

Malfoy peered at all the shadowy corners. "It doesn't seem like you, this house. It's so dark and lonely."

"What do you know about me, Malfoy?" Harry said before he could stop himself. "Perhaps I'm dark and lonely, too."

Shaking his head, Malfoy said, "Lonely? Maybe. Dark? Absolutely not."

For some reason, Harry was irritated. "You can't remember a thing about your past. Don't you think there's a possibility you're making assumptions?"

"No," Malfoy said simply, and finished his sausage.

Harry dragged his fork through the remnants of his egg yolk. "I ... I am lonely. It's true. I've just finished Auror training and I haven't sought out company for a while. Training was difficult. And ... well, I've been confused."

Malfoy stared at him intently. "What have you been confused about?"

Harry shot him a nervous glance. "Um. Well. For one, I'm attracted to blokes and I don't particularly want to be."

Malfoy's expression went all soft and tender. "Yes, I've known. The way you look at me ..."

"And how do I look at you?"

"Like you want to devour me."

Harry felt his face flame. "It's not that obvious, is it?"

"To me? Yes." Malfoy finished his egg with a neat bite. "I desperately want you to fancy me."

Harry realised he couldn't breathe. "We need to talk about something else. We should come up with a plan."

"Okay," Malfoy said reluctantly.

"What do you want to do?"

Malfoy worried his bottom lip. "I want to find out what happened to me."

"So we must go to Egypt."

"Because that was where I was when I lost my memory?"

Harry felt almost giddy. It was a relief to have direction. Then he thought about the empty portrait. "I have to warn you that I think your mother might be meddling."

"My mother?"

"Yes ... do you want to see her?"

The colour drained from Malfoy's face. "My mother ... I don't know."

"You see, Mrs Black is gone. She's a portrait, by the way. And, um. I think she might be over at your manor, whispering in your mum's ear."

Malfoy frowned again. "Is my mother dangerous?"

What a question. "Um. No. Well, perhaps, but ... My main concern is that she's lying to me. I just know it." Harry watched Malfoy closely as he said this.

Malfoy's expression didn't change. "Do you think she could be of any help, even if she is a liar?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

A blink. "How would I know?"

"Because she's your mum ... because I still don't know if you are lying to me or not."

Colour rushed back into Malfoy's face. His gaze turned a bit steely, a bit cold—it was Harry's first glimpse of his old self.

"I am not lying to you," Malfoy said, voice shaking.

Prove it, Harry wanted to say, but how could he? And did it really matter if he was lying or not? Harry had already ruined his career to sneak him out of the DOM.

Even if Malfoy was lying, he didn't deserve to be caged up in secret like that. He deserved a proper trial, with proper criminal charges.

"Our next step is to get us to Egypt," Harry said. "Once we are out of Britain, it will be much harder for the Ministry to track us down."

Malfoy shook himself. "Yes. Right. Shall we travel like Muggles?"

"Oh. I hadn't even thought about that." Harry fell quiet, thinking. "I suppose I could book us two plane tickets ... but I don't fancy the idea of being trapped on a plane for five hours while the Ministry deploys agents to meet us at the Egyptian airport."

"What else did you have in mind?"

Harry was a little ashamed. "Um, well. There's these Portkeys that can be had in Knockturn ... I was introduced to them during my training. For a steep fee, we can purchase a few of these 'untraceable' Portkeys ... perhaps we can stop in France, then somewhere near the Mediterranean, then make our way to Egypt. Really confuse the poor blokes who're attempting to track us."

"I don't have any money."

"I do."

"And you would buy them? To help me?"

"Yes."

Malfoy sucked in a breath.

"It's not a big deal, truly." Harry forced a laugh. "I have a hard time finding ways to spend my riches." He flinched. What a stupid thing to say.

"Do you know what I'm thinking about right now?"

"No."

Malfoy's eyes fluttered closed. "I can feel you in my mouth. Your cock."

"What?"

"I think I must have fantasised about it while I sucked off another man."

Harry went so hard so quickly that he felt lightheaded. He stood shakily, unable to hide his erection through his thin joggers. "We shouldn't talk about this."

Malfoy levelled his gaze at him. "I want you."

"No."

Malfoy stood and tried to come closer. Harry stumbled back.

"I want you," Malfoy repeated. "You are being so brave, so strong. You are risking yourself to save me. And I want to suck your cock."

Harry stumbled back even more. They couldn't do this. No, no. "You don't know yourself. You have no idea—"

"I have some idea. My body reacts to you, Harry."

"It is madness! You hate me."

"And what if they catch me? What if they throw me into a dark cell—forever? I will die without ever knowing what it was like to be with you."

"Malfoy," Harry gasped. "You must stop. You must. I can't take any more."

Malfoy finally stopped trying to come closer. His face was pink, his chest beating up and down. "I think I've wanted you for a long time."

"I need the toilet," Harry said abruptly, stupidly. He charged from the kitchen.

When he was safely locked away in his bathroom, he Spelled on the serpent head shower and tore off his clothes. He ignored his erection as if it were a mortal enemy taunting him.

Under the hot spray of water, he tried to focus on his next steps. He would glamour his face. He would enter Knockturn the back away, in an attempt to avoid anyone picking up on his magical signature. Then he would seek out the illegal Portkeys.

I am a criminal. The thought fell away quickly. He was used to being a criminal in the eyes of the Ministry.

Another thought: He's playing you.

Sucking in a breath, Harry dragged his hand down his soapy, wet stomach. When he encountered his insistent cock, he wrapped a hand around it and twisted. He was so pathetic that even the punishment felt good.

He's playing you and you both know it.

Giving up, Harry rested against the cold shower wall and buried his face in the crook of his arm. He wanked furiously, desperately, his toes curling.

Malfoy knows how desperate you are, that's all. You want to devour him, and he knows it.

It had to be true. Malfoy said things that cut right to Harry's core. He knew what he was doing. He knew, he knew.

"Fuck," Harry moaned. He imagined sinking into Malfoy's tight arse. He would be so wet, so tight. So needy. It didn't matter if it was all lies.

Harry fucked into his fist, his orgasm mounting. He had only been inside another man once—a nameless Muggle. It'd been traumatic how good it had felt.

I think I must have fantasised about it.

Pleasure overtook him, and he had to bite down on his arm to muffle himself. He painted the shower wall with streaks of spunk, his cock jerking in his fist.

"Fuck," Harry said again, and this time it sounded like a sob. The sound was of defeat, of surrender.

*

Later, after Harry had washed away the evidence of his lust, he scurried from the bathroom and found thick black robes in his wardrobe. He intended to dress like somebody who frequently ventured to Knockturn Alley.

When his outfit was in order, and the glamour in place, Harry pocketed way more money than he was used to carrying and Disapparated straight from his bedroom. He didn't say goodbye to Malfoy.

As he had planned, he entered Knockturn, not through Diagon Alley, but through a far less frequented magical entrance. If necessary, his fellow Aurors would still be able to pick up his magical signature, but he was hoping that none of it would come to that.

Knockturn was dark and cold, even though the sun shone. Like him, most visitors kept their hoods up, obscuring their faces. His destination was a tiny hole in the wall "charity shop."

When he entered the shop, a tiny man greeted him behind the counter. His "greeting" included a growl and a glare.

"I need to travel internationally," Harry said, not wasting any time.

The man's eyebrows went up. "Oh? That's nice. Do enjoy yourself."

Harry glowered at him. "I'm a man who appreciates privacy, you see." He rummaged in his pocket and set a heavy bag of coins on the counter. "I'm willing to pay for it."

"It seems like you're in luck. I appreciate a man who appreciates his privacy."

Harry softened his glower only a little. The man scurried into the back and returned holding rubbish.

"How many will you need?"

"Four—no five."

Now it was the man's turn to glower. He turned his attention back to the bag of money and dumped it all out on the counter. He took his sweet time counting every coin, then he nodded to himself.

"Yes, all right. Your funds are adequate for five. There is a spell you must follow, and each item needs exactly one hour to activate. Understand?"

Harry nodded and the man handed over the rubbish and a slip of parchment. Before Harry exited the shop, he stopped and turned around. "As I've already said, my privacy is very important to me. If somehow my privacy is broken because of you, I will make sure you face the consequences."

"Of course, sir," the man said, voice slimy.

*

Outside the shop, Harry made sure his purchases were secure in his pockets, then he left Knockturn the same way he had entered. When he reached a Muggle street, he found an empty alleyway and Disapparated.

He was just about to reach Grimmauld Place, enter its old walls, when something stopped him. It felt as if someone grabbed ahold of his neck and pulled.

Confused, bewildered, all Harry could do was let himself be pulled away. When he opened his eyes, he was in a sunlit meadow and Hermione stood in front of him, glaring.

"What are you doing?" she said, enraged.

"Um."

She looked as if she wanted to smack him. "Please do not tell me that you actually helped Malfoy escape!"

"Um."

Her glare only intensified. "Are you mad?"

"Look," Harry said, feeling crushed. He didn't know if he could trust her and it was ... devastating.

"You could be arrested, Harry. Do you understand how serious this is?"

"I understand."

"The only reason why an arrest warrant hasn't been issued is because you are you and Robards is still standing up for you."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because everyone in the bloody Ministry knows what you did last night! Everyone."

"Are the Aurors looking for me?"

"Of course they are! You need to go back—you need to return Malfoy as soon as possible."

"Return him? He isn't an object, Hermione."

"It doesn't matter! He's using you, most likely. He is dangerous, Harry. Very, very dangerous!"

"You don't know that."

"The Ministry wouldn't have kept him locked up if he weren't dangerous."

Harry fisted his hands. "They wouldn't?"

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath. She was crying and it deeply alarmed Harry.

"I'm scared for you. I really am. Malfoy ... he isn't worth it. Whatever he did or didn't do ... the Ministry will get to the bottom of it. You must trust the process."

"How can you say that after everything we had to go through during the war?"

"Because we are no longer at war!"

"You might not be, but me—Malfoy—"

"Harry."

"No." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I must do this. Even if it ruins my life. Even if it gets me hurt."

"But why?"

Harry remembered how Malfoy had hugged him, how he had whispered such tender things in his ear. He had to give himself a shake.

"Because I refuse to let the Ministry mistreat him like they mistreated me. No more, Hermione. No more."

"But you're an Auror," she said, so bewildered.

"I thought I could perhaps change things ... make it better. But now I'm not sure. Perhaps one must attack from the outside to enact real change."

"Attack? What do you mean?"

Harry shook his head. "I need to go now, Hermione. I want to Apparate back into Grimmauld Place. Will you stop me? Will others stop me?"

"No, I won't stop you." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I was only able to use that spell because I'm your friend and Grimmauld Place recognises my magic."

"Good. Thank you." Then he sucked in a breath and said: "It's okay. I will be all right."

"I don't know about that, Harry."

Something terrible squeezed in his chest. He couldn't think about the consequences right now. He would drown if he did.

"I'll see you around," he said.

"I'm going to tell Ron!"

"And who else?"

"No one."

"Thank you." He Disapparated.

*

Grimmauld Place greeted him with an eerie silence. "Malfoy?" he called. There was no answer.

Heart pounding, he raced up to the secret room where the broken things lived. He burst through the door and found it empty.

He cursed loudly and Apparated to the hallway toilet, then to his bedroom's ensuite. Then to every single room in the house. He didn't find Malfoy anywhere. He was gone.

"MRS BLACK!" Harry roared, and stormed down to the parlour.

The old portrait waited for him. She had a strange expression on her painted face. Her mouth twisted with hard amusement.

Harry was a little surprised to see her. He didn't think she had the courage.

"Where is he?" Harry growled.

"And whom do you speak of?"

"You know exactly whom I'm talking of."

Mrs Black sniffed and looked away.

Harry stepped closer, his wand raised. "How do you like the idea of spending the rest of your days at the bottom of a bin?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would." He aimed his wand as if to shred her.

"Wait! He's with his mother, where he belongs."

"At the Manor?"

Her mouth twisted again. "Yes," she spat.

"Thank you," he said, voice dark. He turned, his wand raised, and Disapparated.

When he opened his eyes, he stood in front of the Manor's locked gates. "I wish to enter," he told the wrought iron.

A face appeared on the lock—an embellishment. "State your name and purpose," it droned.

"Harry Potter. Purpose: Take back Draco Malfoy."

The face disappeared, then resurfaced. It was now Narcissa Malfoy's face. "Draco isn't here, Potter. Go back to being a good little Auror."

"I know he's here! Now open up and let me talk to him."

"As I said—"

"Do you want him to be cursed forever? I've got a plan, I have. Portkeys. I'm ready to take him to Egypt right now if necessary. I will figure out what happened to him."

She hesitated. "Portkeys? Really?"

"Yes," he growled.

"But—the Ministry is looking for you."

"I know."

"And you still managed to secure international travel?"

"I've just come from Knockturn, Mrs Malfoy. Do you understand?"

"Yes." She sighed, then muttered: "I suppose it's worth the risk."

Her face disappeared and the gate clicked on. Harry scurried through before she changed her mind.

Harry really, really didn't fancy seeing Malfoy Manor again. Just like the Department of Mysteries, the place held terrible memories for him. Still, he gritted his teeth and marched on.

He did his best to ignore the Manor's black eyes staring down at him.

Narcissa met him on the stone steps. "Mr Potter," she said coldly.

"I want to see him."

"Yes." She turned and walked into the Manor. He hurried his footsteps.

Malfoy was in the drawing room, pacing. He wasn't alone. A pretty blonde woman sat in a chair by the fire. Astoria Greengrass.

Harry came to a stumbling halt. Malfoy looked up. "Harry," he cried, and rushed to him.

Harry had no choice but to envelope Malfoy in his arms. He hugged him close, feeling how Malfoy trembled. Over Malfoy's shoulder, Harry saw how Greengrass stared at them.

"I was so stupid," Malfoy gasped. "I didn't even know they were in the house before it was too late. I tried to fight them, but I didn't have a wand ..."

"It's okay," Harry said, smoothing his hand down his hot back. He wanted to kiss his cheek, but he didn't let himself.

"I'm your mother," Narcissa said, crossing the room to Astoria. "You should never fight me."

Malfoy yanked from Harry to face her. "I don't know you! All I know is that you kidnapped me."

"Draco," Greengrass said in her soft voice. "Please say that you remember me."

"I don't."

Greengrass sighed and looked away.

Before the conversation could get out of hand, Harry interrupted. "He'll remember you if I'm allowed to take him to Egypt."

Narcissa watched him closely. "And how do you exactly plan on fixing my son?"

"I—well. I dunno yet. But I do know that it must happen in Egypt."

"Astoria, dear," Narcissa said. "Thank you so much for popping by. Unfortunately, it's time for you to leave."

"Yes." Greengrass stood and approached Malfoy. She took his hand gently. "Please remember what you said to me before you ran off to that foreign place. Please."

"I cannot make any promises," Malfoy said stiffly.

Greengrass raised up on her toes to kiss his cheek, then floated out of the room. Harry watched her go despite himself.

Once they were alone, Harry turned on Narcissa. "Tell me everything. You are keeping information from me. I must know it."

"Please sit down. The both of you."

"No," Harry growled.

Narcissa's eyes flashed but she didn't say anything.

"How are you affording to live like this and still pay Reparations?"

Still, Narcissa didn't answer.

"Tell me."

"Draco had a friend ... a special friend. He sends me payments."

Harry ignored the jealousy that churned inside him. "Why?"

Narcissa shrugged. "He's involved somehow, I just know it. The moment you reach Egypt, he will find you."

"Do I want him to find us?"

"I haven't a clue," Narcissa said, strained. "All I know is that Draco trusted him."

"What do you mean by special friend?" Malfoy asked.

Narcissa just looked at her son.

"Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything at all?"

"No," Narcissa said. Harry didn't believe her.

Harry wanted to leave the Manor as soon as possible. He grabbed Malfoy's arm. "Ready to go?"

Malfoy sucked in a breath. "To Egypt?"

"No—not yet. I still need to pack up some things back at my place."

Malfoy visibly relaxed. "Okay."

As they headed toward the door, Narcissa called out to Harry. "Mr Potter," she said, her wand in hand.

"Mrs Malfoy," Harry said, hand clasped around his own wand inside his pocket. He was poised for a duel.

Narcissa' eyes flickered to her son, then back to Harry. "If you get my son murdered, I will come after you."

"I understand," Harry said roughly.

Harry took Malfoy into his arms, turned them, and they Disapparated.

*

Back at Grimmauld Place, Malfoy slumped down in a settee and cradled his face in his hands. "I'm an idiot," he said, muffled. "I shouldn't have let myself get caught like that."

"It's okay," Harry said, because it was. Malfoy was back with him.

"Do you want to make yourself useful?" Harry said.

Malfoy dropped his hands and gazed up at him. "Yes."

"I've got the Portkeys in my pocket," Harry explained, "but they will need a bit of work to get them working. Will you pack us a suitcase for the trip? I'm thinking light, airy clothing, with Muggle and magical options. Do you follow?"

Malfoy blinked at him. "You want me to rummage in your wardrobe? For outfits for the both of us?"

"Yes," Harry said, then gave him a pointed look. "You're already wearing my clothes anyhow."

Malfoy flushed prettily. "I'll get to work right away."

"Good."

As Malfoy preoccupied himself upstairs, Harry retrieved the Portkeys from his pocket and laid them out on the carpet in the parlour. At his disposal was a single ratty sock, one half of a broken table leg (strangely with bite marks), a neon pink trainer, a dented tin of unopened beans, and an empty bag of Monster Munch.

"Well, then," Harry said, bewildered but amused. He planned to use three Portkeys for their trip to Egypt and two for their trip home. For his own sanity, he designated the sock and trainer as their Portkeys for their journey home. (The items were related and it would be a lot easier to remember it that way.)

The tin of beans was the heaviest item, so he wanted to get rid of that first. He marked it as the Portkey that would get them to France. Then the empty bag of Monster Munch would get them to ... he had to think of it. Tirana, Albania. He had gone there for a random Auror training and he knew the city's coordinates.

Then, finally, he decided that the broken table leg would deliver them to Cairo. Harry had never been to Cairo and he had to take a moment to rummage for the city's coordinates in a dusty book.

When everything was ready, Harry took a deep breath and retrieved the spell from his pocket. The seller said each item needed an hour to activate. Harry was pretty sure he could activate them all now, then cast a spell on them to make them untouchable. He might need the Portkeys in a pinch, and he didn't want to be in the position of needing to wait an hour for one to be ready.

Examining the spell, it took him some time to get the pronunciation and wand movement correct. Then he stood over each item, muttering the incantation, and making a Z in the air.

Halfway through, Malfoy wandered down, holding a suitcase. He sat in a chair and watched Harry work. Distracted, Harry nearly fumbled the next spell.

Malfoy smiled a little. "Am I being a nuisance?"

"Definitely not," Harry breathed, a touch hot in the face.

Malfoy yawned loudly and stood. "I assume we will leave first thing in the morning?"

Harry checked the time. "No, let's leave in the middle of the night. In case anyone is following us."

"I'm off to bed, then." Malfoy crossed the room, then paused. He glanced at Harry. "I'll be waiting for you," he said softly.

He gulped. "All right."

*

Later, after his work with the Portkeys was finished, Harry lay beside Malfoy in the darkness. They were both awake, and the silence was deafening.

"Everything's going to be okay," Harry murmured because he could feel how tense Malfoy was.

Suddenly Malfoy sat up. "What if our plan fails? What if the Ministry captures me again and imprisons me forever?"

Harry touched his cool cheek. "I won't let that happen."

"Yes, but what if?"

Harry gulped. "I think I'd rather die than let you be locked up for the rest of your life."

Malfoy leaned down and kissed him. His lips were so soft. For a brief, wonderful moment, Harry let himself kiss him back, but then he put his hands on Malfoy's shoulders and eased him away.

"No," he said softly.

"I want you," Malfoy said urgently. "And you want me."

"You think you want me, but your other self—your true self—"

Malfoy pressed their foreheads together. He was trembling. "This could be my last chance before I'm locked away forever. I'm so very desperate, Harry. I'm leaking for you."

"Malfoy—"

"No, feel me," Malfoy said, and he guided Harry's hand to his prick. He was hard and throbbing, and so very warm. Harry's hand jerked. "See?" Malfoy murmured, rubbing himself against his hand. "Don't you feel how much I want you?"

Panic rose in Harry swiftly. He yanked his hand away. "It's not right," he said, voice an unintentional snarl. He twisted from bed and crossed the room.

"What's not right?" Malfoy said quietly. "You and me making love—or two men making love?"

"I'm not—it's not like that."

"Not like what?"

Harry just looked at him in the darkness. "I want to fuck you right now, it's true. I would love to do it, but you don't know our past—not really. I almost killed you, Malfoy."

"And I probably deserved it." He took a deep breath. "It's all right for two blokes to shag. You know that, don't you?"

Harry trailed his hand down to his hard prick. He squeezed himself through his trousers, his breath stuttering. "Yes, I know it. My body knows it. Sometimes—I feel bad about it—but only sometimes, and I don't feel bad about it when I'm with you. I want you too much for that."

"Fucking hell, Potter," Malfoy said, sounding like his old self. He sounded so much like his old self that Harry nearly pulled his wand on him.

"I will show you," Harry said.

"What?"

"Follow me."

They left the room and ventured down to the old dusty library. Harry had a bit of trouble getting the door to unstick. Once inside, Harry lit a few candles with his wand. Malfoy stood in the centre of the room, holding himself.

"Why are we here?" Malfoy asked.

"I need to show you ..." Harry trailed off as he looked about the room. In a shadowy corner was an old Pensieve. He nabbed it from the corner and placed it gently on a large desk, giving them enough room.

"What is that?"

"A Pensieve," Harry said, already putting his wand to his temple. "I want you to see my memories of us." He thought about all the worst things that had happened between them—the fist fighting on the Quidditch pitch, Malfoy stomping on his face on the train, Harry ripping him open in the boys' lavatory—and dropped each silvery memory into the stone basin.

Malfoy inched closer. "Are you sure?"

"I want you to know. If you are utterly against it, then we don't have to do it, but—"

Malfoy gazed into his face. "You want me to see? Truly?"

"Yes."

"Then let's continue."

Harry stirred the memories with his wand, then urged Malfoy to step closer. He grabbed Malfoy's hand. "We'll go in together."

"Thank you."

"You just need to lean close until you think your nose will touch the surface."

Malfoy followed Harry's lead, and suddenly they were on the Quidditch pitch in year five. They were saying horrible shit to each other, then it turned into a full on brawl, with Harry and Malfoy rolling on the grass and throwing punches at each other.

The memory faded away, and they found themselves in a cramped train compartment. Malfoy had his white blond head pillowed in Parkinson' lap and he was droning on about how stupid everybody was.

"Where are you?" the older Malfoy whispered even though the teens in the memory had no way of hearing him.

"Just wait," Harry muttered.

Malfoy flinched when his younger self attacked the invisible Harry, throwing him to the ground and stomping on his face. This is for my father.

"I was so cruel," Malfoy said, shuddering. The memory began to fade away, and Malfoy said, "Wait! What happened to you after? Are you saved?"

"Yes, I was saved."

The train compartment was replaced by the gloomy boys' lavatory, and Harry felt a strange terror shoot up his spine. He didn't want to experience this, not again. Almost involuntarily, he reached out and took Malfoy's hand in his. He needed the comfort.

They watched as younger Malfoy sobbed, overwhelmed, so overwhelmed. Then younger Harry was suddenly there, and Malfoy saw him—he saw him and he was mortified. Malfoy turned, ready for a fight, but Harry was too quick for him. Sectumsempra!

There was blood, so much blood, and Malfoy was dying—he was bleeding out, and there was nothing Harry could do for him. Snape seemed to appear out of nowhere, and he shoved Harry to the side so he could save Malfoy. Thank Merlin for Snape.

When they returned to the library, Malfoy was shaking.

"See?" Harry said softly. "That is why we can't ... make love. I don't think we'd be capable of it."

Malfoy came at him, and Harry expected to be hit, but instead he pulled Harry into a desperate kiss. Harry was so shocked that all he could do was cling to him and kiss him back.

"I don't understand," Harry said against his lips.

"Seeing that only made me want you more," Malfoy gasped.

"But—"

"Please, please." Malfoy yanked at Harry's flies. "I want you to fuck me, oh please, oh please."

"Wait." Harry stilled Malfoy's hands. "I still don't think—"

"I'll take anything, Harry. Anything you are willing to give me."

Harry was burning up, and his cock was so hard, so desperate. He couldn't think, and Malfoy was so close, so warm. He wanted Harry to fuck him, and it was—it was—Harry was going to break.

Harry wanted to shag Malfoy, but—but—

"Okay," Harry growled. "I will give you something, but ... only what I think your real self would want."

Malfoy searched his face. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will suck your cock."

"Oh," Malfoy breathed.

"I will suck your cock and nothing more. You can't touch me in return, because I don't think your real self would want to, but a blow job ... I think you would consider it a way to humiliate me. The Chosen One's lips wrapped around my prick and all that."

"But I don't want to humiliate you."

"It's okay," Harry said, taking his hand again, "I'm going to enjoy myself, don't worry."

Harry guided him back up to the secure room. He could have taken him to his own bedroom, but the hidden room felt safer. When the door clicked shut, Harry turned to him and kissed him. Malfoy's lips felt perfect, so perfect.

Malfoy made a desperate little noise and kissed him back. Then they were properly snogging, arms wrapped around each other. Malfoy tasted of tea and mint, and Harry felt how Malfoy's cock swelled swiftly.

"I do want you, Malfoy," Harry whispered, lips wet.

"I know."

Harry gulped. "Please get on the bed."

"Okay," Malfoy said, and his voice shook. "Do you want me to remove my clothes?"

"Oh, um. Yes—if you want."

"Are you going to take off your clothes as well?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Smiling faintly, Malfoy pulled off his jumper, then stepped out of his trousers. He was pale, so pale, and his stiffy pressed so insistently against his underpants. His Dark Mark was a black smudge on his forearm.

This was a bad idea, a really bad idea. Harry stared and stared at the bulge—he felt himself slowly losing control.

"Are you all right?" Malfoy asked, now spread out on the bed.

"No," Harry said, but he slid onto the bed as well. He made room for himself between Malfoy's thighs. "You're bloody gorgeous," he murmured.

Malfoy went pink. "Thank you."

Harry couldn't look at his face. Hand trembling, he touched Malfoy lightly through his underpants. He was so fucking warm. He found the outline of his shaft and wrapped his fist around it. He stroked.

"Oh," Malfoy moaned.

Harry stared at his own hand as it fondled Malfoy. Then, before his control really snapped, he eased his underpants down, revealing his cock.

Malfoy was slender and pink, and his bollocks were tight and so flushed. Harry dropped down and took his bollocks into his mouth, sucking each one, moulding his mouth around their hot flesh. Malfoy's hair there was soft and sparse, and addicting.

"Harry," he gasped.

Harry couldn't respond because his mouth was full of bollocks. He continued to suck them, pulling on them lightly with his mouth. Malfoy's poor cock throbbed desperately, even jerked a little, but Harry forced it to wait.

"You're so fucking pretty," Harry said, now licking the seam between his balls. He even nibbled at the loose skin on his sac.

Malfoy moaned. "You're torturing me."

Harry barely heard him because he was thinking about Malfoy's arsehole. He wanted to taste it—he wanted to put his fingers in it—but, no, he couldn't trust himself. He would fuck Malfoy if he went near his pink little hole. (And it would be pink, so pink. Pink and tight.)

Harry eased his foreskin back and took him into his mouth. He wished he had the self control to prolong Malfoy's pleasure, but he just wasn't strong enough.

Oh, Harry thought, because Malfoy tasted divine. He moved his mouth up and down, sucking a little at his cockhead. Malfoy's precome was light, almost sweet, and so fucking good. Harry would remember his taste for a long, long time.

Gentle fingers buried themselves in Harry's hair. Then Malfoy, so sweetly, began to fuck his mouth.

"Do you like this, Harry?" Malfoy whispered.

Harry nodded eagerly, keeping his lips so tight for his cock. Malfoy thrust and thrust, but he never turned rough.

Harry wrapped his hands around his thighs, pausing him, so he could lick and suck his cock. He followed the ridges and veins of his shaft, and he felt Malfoy's thudding heartbeat just beneath the silky skin. It was so fucking good.

"I love your cock," Harry growled, drooling. He watched himself stroke Malfoy, squeezing a bit of precome from his tip. Then Harry licked up the precome, wanting to taste everything.

Fuck, he loved this. He would always love this.

Harry went back to suck on his bollocks. "Do you like it when I do this?" Harry said, pulling at them with his mouth.

"Yes!"

"Good." Then Harry licked back up his shaft and focussed on the sensitive spot just beneath his crown. He licked and licked, his fist tight around his shaft.

"Oh, please," Malfoy whispered.

"Do you want me to fuck you with my mouth?"

Malfoy arched. "Please!"

Then Harry realised he wasn't doing this properly. Malfoy—the real one—would want him on his knees. He would want Harry to be the one to beg, not the other way around.

"I've changed my mind. You should fuck my face instead."

Malfoy blinked at him. "What?"

"I'll get on the floor and you can stand over me—or, better yet, I'll get on my back and you can fuck into my mouth. You wouldn't even need to look at me—"

"But I want to look at you." Malfoy's voice was high and desperate. "I don't want to fuck your mouth. I want you to make love to me."

"Yes, but—"

"Please, Harry—make love to me with your mouth. Make me come. I want to come with your hands on me."

"Okay," Harry said, because he couldn't take it anymore. Malfoy, when he regained his memories, was already going to hate his guts for doing this—what did it matter how exactly Harry brought him to orgasm?

Harry leaned up to kiss Malfoy tenderly. Malfoy gasped and licked at his own taste on Harry's lips.

"You like it?" Harry growled.

"Yes," Malfoy whimpered.

Harry trailed sweet kisses down his throat, then took some time exploring Malfoy's chest with his mouth. Malfoy's pink little tits were perfect, just perfect. Harry pulled on them a little with his teeth, and Malfoy gasped once more and arched.

Pressed against Harry's stomach, Malfoy pounded so needily. His head was fully emerged from his foreskin, and he was leaving a wet spot on Harry's shirt.

Fuck, fuck. This was what dreams were made of. Feeling Malfoy so aroused, so desperate beneath him made everything worth it. Harry would spend his entire life in Azkaban for this experience.

Harry kissed down Malfoy's trembling stomach. His skin was taut, but so soft, and he had a lovely sprinkling of blond hair. Then Harry's mouth trailed down to his thighs, and he took his time lifting each leg so he could kiss and nibble his way from his warm thigh down to his knobbly ankle.

Malfoy was looking at him with his mouth open. His eyes glittered wetly in the dark, and Harry didn't know if it was from tears.

Finally, finally, Harry took Malfoy's cock back into his mouth. Malfoy moaned and arched, and Harry's mouth quickly filled with precome.

Taking pity on him, Harry wrapped a tight fist around his shaft, his other hand cradling his bollocks. Then he bobbed his head quickly, sucking, making sure everything was so tight, so wet, for him.

Malfoy utterly writhed. Harry couldn't see much, but he knew Malfoy twisted the duvet in his hands. On either side of him, Malfoy's long legs shook desperately.

Harry moved his head faster, and faster. He was drooling all over himself.

"Look at me," Malfoy whispered.

Harry looked at him, his mouth so full of his cock, his shoulders hunched, his glasses digging into his nose.

"Oh, Harry," Malfoy moaned, deep in his chest. His eyes rolled back, and he arched again, his entire body pulled tight, and he came in Harry's mouth.

Harry moaned and sucked every drop from the cock throbbing on his tongue. He didn't swallow.

Malfoy was barely done orgasming before he scrambled up. "Let me touch you. Merlin, please let me touch you." He reached out but Harry stepped back.

"No," Harry said, mouth full. Desperate, so desperate, he yanked down his own trousers and underpants. Then he spat the come in his mouth on his palm, letting some of it even dribble onto his cock.

Staring into Malfoy's eyes, Harry wanked himself quickly.

"Oh my god," Malfoy breathed.

Harry was already so close to orgasm. His toes curled in his socks. "Draco."

Malfoy, mouth open, was staring at his cock. His gaze snapped back up to his face. "Say it again. Please."

"Draco," Harry cried—he was so close, so close.

Malfoy scrambled to the floor. He was on his knees before Harry, ready to take his come.

"No, don't." Harry stumbled a step back.

"I want it, I want it." Malfoy crawled closer.

Harry's control was barely in check. His bollocks were so tight with his orgasm, his whole body poised for pleasure. His hand was a blur on his cock.

Then Malfoy leaned forward and gave his cockhead the tiniest of licks, and it was all over for Harry.

Throwing his head back, Harry erupted over his fist. He came and came, and there was an embarrassing amount of semen. He barely knew himself or his surroundings, but a shock went through him when he felt Malfoy wrap his lips around his tip, sucking just a little.

"Fuck, fuck," Harry said, because it was too much.

Still trembling, Harry watched in a daze as Malfoy licked up all the remaining semen from his cock—his balls—his thighs. He even cleaned his hand with his mouth, giving each finger a good, long suck.

"Do I taste good?" Harry asked, dazed and defeated.

Malfoy blushed prettily. "Oh, yes."

Damn you, Harry thought, but he couldn't erase the smile from his face. He pulled Malfoy to his feet and kissed him hotly.

"I don't think I will be able to sleep a wink," Malfoy murmured.

Harry pulled him to the mattress. "Let's give it a go."

*

It was nearly four in the morning when Harry and Malfoy crawled from bed. They dressed quickly in dark clothes, and Harry made sure to pocket enough money that would allow him to bribe someone in a pinch.

They went downstairs to retrieve the suitcase. Then, quite gingerly, Harry packed up every Portkey except for the one that would take them to Grenoble, France.

The protection charm on the Portkeys made them feel buoyant in his magicked pocket.

"Ready?" Harry asked Malfoy.

Malfoy kissed him. "Yes."

Harry took his hand, then grabbed the tin of beans. A moment later, they were zipping through a space void.

When they reappeared, they stood in a dark meadow surrounded by craggy cliff sides. Grenoble.

Grimacing, Malfoy gave himself a shake. "I think that form of travel might be worse than that Apparition thing you do. I think I feel a bit sick."

"Are you okay? Do you need to have a sit?"

"No, I think I'll be okay."

"Good. We'll carry on, then." Harry removed the Monster Munch bag from his pocket and set it on the ground. Then he removed its protection charm.

Malfoy took his hand, and Harry grabbed for the bag. They zipped away once more, the cliff sides falling away like a strange dream.

The moment they landed in Tirana, Harry realised he had forgotten his invisibility cloak.

"Fucking hell," he snarled.

"What?" Malfoy said, alarmed.

"I forgot the cloak! I forgot—fucking hell! I'm such an idiot!" His voice soared in the early morning light.

"That invisibility cloak? I think we will be all right without it. Anyway, it was so small—"

"We'll have to be okay without it." Harry didn't think he would ever forgive himself.

Then Malfoy was suddenly on the ground, his head pressed between his legs. Harry dropped to his side.

"Are you all right?"

Malfoy laughed. "Just dizzy."

"Yes, right." Harry wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. Sighing, Malfoy rested his head on his shoulder.

They were in a park next to an enormous flat building. A large tree hid them from view.

"It's all right," Harry murmured, rubbing Malfoy's back. "We'll rest here for a moment, then be off. We are making good time."

Malfoy nodded, not saying anything.

Later, after the sun had frightened off all the pink and purple in the sky, Harry helped Malfoy back to his feet.

"We should go before it gets any lighter."

"Yes." Malfoy rubbed his temples.

Harry took out the broken table leg and rested it on the ground. He offered his hand to Malfoy. "You know the drill."

Steeling himself, Malfoy took Harry's hand.

_____________________

Cairo was hot, so hot, and the sun was blinding. Their Portkey had landed them in a tourist infested part of the city. "Come along," Harry said, already knackered from all the travelling. Malfoy shielded his face with a hand and followed him.

They found a small Muggle hotel with a few vacancies. "We will need only one room," Harry told the attendant behind the desk. A sign above his head read in English: Hatshepsut Hotel.

"Yes, sir." The attendant's bored expression didn't flicker.

Up in their room, Harry threw open the windows, trying to cool the place down. There were pictures of queens all over the walls. Above the bed was a bust of a pharaoh with a broken nose. His features looked delicate like a woman's.

Malfoy set their shared suitcase on the bed and gazed around, eyes wide.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I think so. What is that?"

"Oh, it's a telly. An old one. They don't really look like that anymore."

"What's a telly?"

"It's—um. It's a Muggle entertainment contraption. You watch stories or the news on its screen."

"Huh." Malfoy sat down on the edge of the bed. "Will you make it work?"

"Yeah. Hopefully." Harry grabbed the remote and pushed some buttons. Then the screen snapped on, flooding with colour.

"Oh, wow," Malfoy said.

Harry sat down next to him. He watched Malfoy watch the telly. It made something so tender grow inside him. Without even thinking about it, he pulled Malfoy into a kiss.

Malfoy sighed and kissed him back. The kiss started out soft, gentle, but then Malfoy moaned and tried to move closer. Harry yanked away.

"No, um. Let's not."

"Let me suck you off," Malfoy whispered. "Like you did to me. Properly."

Harry stood before he turned weak. "No, no. We've got to come up with a plan. We've got to find the magical part of Cairo and start asking some questions."

"Yeah," Malfoy sighed, disappointed.

As Malfoy stared at the telly, Harry looked through maps of Cairo. Usually there were hints as to where the magical part was hidden, but he was having a hard time wrapping his head around what he was looking at.

His head pounded. His stomach growled. He was tired and needed food.

"Let's find a bite to eat. What are you in the mood for?"

Malfoy tore his gaze away from the telly. He sucked on the inside of his cheek. "Do you think that would be wise? What about my ..."

"Your special friend?"

"Yes. My mother said he would find us."

Harry shrugged. "So let him. I'm not worried."

"Do you think we can find a nice curry? I've been craving it."

Laughing, Harry said, "Oh, I'm sure."

The neighbourhood they were in was very Muggle. There were loads and loads of international chain restaurants with buzzing neon signs and a horde of tourists streaming in and out of the glass doors.

There were also a lot of shopping malls and little attractions to entice the tourists. Harry had to almost bodily force Malfoy not to go inside.

"Harry," Malfoy said slowly. "What is pizza?"

"Oh, hell."

"What?"

"You don't know what pizza is?"

Malfoy blinked innocently at him. "No ... is it good?"

"Quite good. It's cheesy and greasy, and—" Harry laughed. Malfoy now looked conflicted. "Do you still want your curry?"

"Yes, I think so."

Luckily, they stumbled on an Indian restaurant called Indira. The restaurant was colourful and cosy, and a wonderful cloud of spices greeted them when they stepped in. It also wasn't too busy. There were still Muggle tourists, loads of them, but Harry and Malfoy easily found an open table.

They looked over the menu and gulped glasses of water. Malfoy's nose was already a little pink.

"You're in luck—they've got your curry," Harry said.

Malfoy sent him a brilliant smile. "I saw. Thank you for bringing me here."

"Yes, well. It's what you wanted."

They gave the server their orders, then looked at each other almost shyly. Sitting down, sharing a meal in a restaurant, felt very much like a date. Stupidly, Harry felt his cheeks heat.

"So," Harry said roughly. "Are you starting to remember anything?"

Malfoy cast his gaze down. "No."

"Are you sure? Not even a feeling of Déjà vu?"

"No, I'm sorry."

Harry let himself just look at Malfoy. He liked him when he had his eyes cast down like that. He remembered what his cock had felt like in his mouth.

"My memory isn't coming back to me, but I do feel ... afraid." Malfoy glanced up at him, his eyes so very grey. "What if we are ambushed, Harry? What if we are hurt? What if—I don't want you harmed because of me."

Harry shrugged. "If I get hurt, I'll be all right. They put us through a proper beating in Auror training."

"But what if you are ... not as strong as them?"

"I defeated Voldemort. He was plenty stronger than me."

Malfoy frowned. "Yes, but ..."

"There's no other option, Malfoy."

"I don't know about that. I could go off on my own ... try to figure it out myself. You wouldn't get hurt that way."

"I came all the way to Egypt to help you. I'm not going to walk away now."

Malfoy continued to frown. He was almost sulking, and it made his mouth look so fucking sexy. Harry wanted to lean over and suck on his bottom lip.

Their meals came then, and it gave Harry something to focus on.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes. It's very good." Malfoy sent him a lovely smile. "How is yours?"

Harry had ordered the butter chicken. "Very good. Not too spicy."

They finished their meal in silence, the both of them watching all the other tourists in the restaurant. It was quite the eclectic mix. The group next to them was from Japan.

When Harry finally dragged his gaze back to Malfoy, he found that the other man was already looking at him. Malfoy gave him a soft smile, and Harry wanted to tell him to stop it. Smiles like that made him feel all twisted up inside.

"Are you ready?" Harry grunted.

"Yes."

Harry threw down some Muggle money and they left the restaurant.

Outside, the day crackled with heat. Harry was sure it had only gotten hotter.

They wandered away from the restaurant. The sun followed them relentlessly. Malfoy shielded his face with his hands.

"I was thinking we should find a psychic ... a palm reader ... that sort of person. They likely are going to be a witch or a wizard pretending to be a Muggle. We can ask them how to enter the magical part of Cairo. I think I feel the magic—do you?"

"Harry ... There's a man following us."

"Oh?" Harry's hand tightened around his wand in his pocket.

"Yes. What do you think we should do?"

"Nothing. Let's wait for him to make the first move."

They continued their wandering journey back to their hotel. For Malfoy's sake, Harry made sure to appear relaxed and confident, but inside his heart was thumping quickly. He wouldn't let them take Malfoy without a bloody fight—

Then they turned a corner, and the street was deserted. Harry spun around, wand at the ready.

The man halted. He raised his hands.

"What do you want?" Harry snarled.

The man was looking at Malfoy, not Harry. "Draco?" he said, hesitating.

Malfoy frowned. "Who are you?"

"I'm your boyfriend."

*

Harry felt a flare of unbearable jealousy. He took a step forward, wand raised.

"No, wait." Malfoy put his hand on Harry's chest.

The man looked at that hand, then dragged his gaze back to Malfoy's face. "You still don't remember me, do you?"

Malfoy frowned. "Still?"

The man stepped closer, and Harry actually snarled. "Don't come any fucking closer," he said. Now his wand was really pointed at the man's chest.

The man raised his hands again. "I'm here to help. I promise."

Harry, glaring daggers, didn't lower his wand. Very gently, Malfoy rested his hand on Harry's wrist.

"Let's hear him out," Malfoy murmured.

"Fine," Harry growled. He lowered his wand.

The man looked around nervously. "Is there somewhere we can talk? In private?"

"We've got a hotel room not too far from here ..."

"Malfoy," Harry said swiftly. He couldn't believe he'd given up their location so quickly.

The man gave them an amused smile. "You're staying at the Hatshepsut Hotel, aren't you?"

Harry gripped his wand tighter. "How the hell do you know that?"

"Because I might have seen you two leave from there ..."

"That's it." Harry shoved himself forward, ready to fight the man, but Malfoy grabbed him.

"No! Let's hear him out. Please!"

"He's been spying on us!"

"Yes, but maybe he can help—"

Harry wrestled himself from Malfoy's grasp and marched right up to the man. He dug his wand into his chest. "If you do anything to hurt him, I promise you I will track you down."

The man's mouth twisted. "And do what exactly?"

Harry dug his wand even harder into his chest. "I'll make you wish you were never born."

"Yes, yes. Very heroic." The man stepped back, looking at Harry up and down. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Why do you care?"

"I suppose I don't, but Draco did like to talk about you. A little too much for my liking."

Harry looked at Malfoy as if he could give him answers. Blushing, all Malfoy could do was shrug.

"Fine," Harry growled. "Let's go back to our hotel room since you already know everything about us."

"Brilliant." The man smiled. Then, quite casually, he said, "Oh, I'm Abasi, by the way. I was the first man Draco ever slept with."

Harry saw utter red. Beside him, he heard Malfoy give a little gasp.

*

Back in their hotel room, Harry was too wound up to sit down.

"Would you care for a drink?" Malfoy asked Abasi politely. "We don't have one of those Muggle contraptions—a refrigerator—but there is a metal thing called a vending machine down the corridor."

Abasi grinned at Malfoy. There was a soft look in his eyes. "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

Harry loomed in a corner and really looked at Abasi. The man was attractive. Very attractive. His hair was black, luminescent, and he styled it perfectly. His skin was darker than Harry's, his limbs a touch longer. He had eyes that looked both green and hazel, and his eyelashes were thick ... almost pretty.

Abasi felt Harry's gaze on him and sent him a wink.

"You barely have an accent," Harry growled.

"I've spent most of my life giving tours to the British. I had to lose my accent if I wanted to make more money."

"So you are a ... tour guide? How did you meet Malfoy?"

Abasi looked at Malfoy fondly. "On the job, of course. Malfoy was also a tour guide."

"What? Really?" Malfoy said eagerly.

Harry's stomach tightened with even more suspicion. "I thought Malfoy was an archaeologist..."

Abasi's mouth twisted again. "He wanted to be one, but he wasn't qualified yet." He gazed into Malfoy's eyes. "You made a deal with our boss, Mr Ahmad. Do you remember?"

"No," Malfoy said slowly.

Something flickered in Abasi's gaze. "That's unfortunate ... but you did. Our boss is a very giving man. He wanted to help you succeed. In exchange for your work as a tour guide, he allowed you to dig about in the magical part of Khufu's Pyramid. You needed to learn a bit more before a proper archaeologist agreed to take you on as a mentee."

Malfoy gulped. "Oh."

"Do you know anything about this business of Malfoy being cursed?" Harry said.

Abasi hesitated. "Yes."

Harry made an impatient gesture. "Well, go on. Tell us."

"What do you want to know?"

This only made Harry's suspicion grow. "Do you think this is a game?" he bit out. "I'm here to help Malfoy. Not answer riddles."

"I didn't pose any riddles. I merely wanted direction."

"Why would you need direction? Just tell us the truth!"

"The truth is ... I'm not sure what I saw. I was there when it happened."

Harry and Malfoy started.

"What?" Malfoy said. "You saw me when I lost my memory?"

"Yes."

"Tell us!" Harry barked.

Abasi sighed and walked to the window. The sun was very eager to get through the glass.

"It was late," Abasi began. His eyes looked almost golden in the hot light. "It was my habit to come around after my last tour of the night and pick Draco up. Then we would go back to my place and make love ..."

Harry gritted his teeth. He refused to look at Malfoy, but he was sure the other man was blushing.

"I was very fond of Draco and he was fond of me. I admit that I was distracted that night ... I wasn't paying much attention. I was very eager to take Draco home with me, get him naked and ... begging." Abasi glanced at Draco, smiling. "He can be very good when he wants to be."

"Sir," Malfoy said, sounding breathless.

Harry gritted his teeth even harder.

"I do miss him ... you. Very much." Abasi said this to the window. "But, anyway, when I arrived, Draco was still finishing up his dig. Excuse me, I don't know the correct terminology, but he was still on his hands and knees in the dirt, and the hole he was in ... it looked almost man made and ancient. I was afraid he had disturbed something he shouldn't have."

Malfoy gulped again. "My mother ... she said I was cursed by the god Seth. Could that possibly be true?"

"Perhaps. I'm not sure what I saw. You were very excited. You wanted to show me what you had found. When we were both in the hole, a figure appeared. It was dark, so dark. It was mere shadow. I tried to be brave. I tried to protect you ... but the figure was too strong. It overtook me, then attacked you. It surrounded you ... I was so afraid you were going to die. But then ... the figure just disappeared. It vanished as if it were smoke on the wind."

"That was when I lost my memory?" Malfoy asked quietly.

"Yes." Abasi's voice was rough.

"And how exactly did Malfoy come into the custody of the Ministry?"

Abasi gave Harry his back. "I was desperate ... I didn't know who to reach out to. I only wanted to help him."

"So you did what?"

"The first thing I did was consult a native Egyptologist ... magical, of course. I explained what I had witnessed and he swore I had seen the god Seth."

"How?" Harry asked.

"From my memories. We peered into a Pensieve together, and the expert noticed details that I had missed entirely."

"Like what?" Malfoy sounded astonished.

"The main thing was that the dark figure had a man's body and the head of a donkey."

Harry gaped at him. How in the bloody hell could you miss that?

Malfoy fidgeted nervously. "Then what happened?"

"The Egyptologist said you had probably uncovered the secret to immortality—true resurrection—and that is why Seth attacked you, then disappeared. I was told that I needed to keep you safe, so I contacted the British embassy ... its magical office. I explained to them what had happened and they demanded that I bring you to them. I only wanted to help ..."

"So you let them take him prisoner?" Harry said.

Abasi blinked several times. "I truly didn't know that they meant him harm. I only wanted Draco to go back to England ... be in his home country. I thought being in England would protect him, maybe even cure him."

"And what about this boss of yours? Does he know what happened?"

"Oh, yes. Mr Ahmad knows about everything. He was glad that Draco was handed over to the embassy. Like me, he thought it was the best thing for Draco to be far away from Egypt."

Harry stared at the man, not sure how much he could trust him. Of course he trusted him very little, but would it be beneficial to trust him at all? He sneaked a glance at Malfoy and found him indecisive as well.

"I want to help," Abasi said. "Tell me what you need from me."

Hesitating, Harry finally said, "Can you show us magical Cairo? We would like the opportunity to ask around about what happened to Malfoy."

Something dark but vague flickered in Abasi's eyes. "Yes, of course. Right now?"

"No. We've had a long day of travelling, and Malfoy wasn't feeling well earlier. May we go tomorrow morning?"

Abasi bowed a little. "Yes. That would be perfect." He looked at Draco. "I wish you remembered me. I would like it very much if we spoke in private, but I get the feeling you do not want it."

Malfoy scrutinised him. "What exactly would we talk about?"

"Our memories together ... how happy we made each other."

Malfoy flushed a little. "I—don't know. I don't think I want that ... now."

"I understand." Abasi sounded mournful.

Harry stepped closer. "But may I have a word with you? In private?"

Abasi raised his eyebrows. "You are an attractive man, Mr Potter, but unfortunately my heart belongs to someone else ..."

Harry's face darkened, which only made Abasi laugh. "Yes, yes, let's talk. Is the corridor acceptable?" Abasi said.

Harry nodded tersely and left the room, not pausing to see if Abasi followed. When the door slammed shut, and they were alone in the corridor, Harry jumped right to his point.

"Where are you getting the money to send to Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Pardon?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Harry had his wand in hand and he advanced on Abasi. Abasi held his ground, and Harry saw something fierce in his expression. The man was capable of immense violence.

"Why should I tell you anything when you are so rude to me?"

"I thought you wanted to help? I'm only trying to piece together the puzzle."

Abasi's expression flickered. "Perhaps you should leave the puzzle to me."

"Why?"

Abasi raised up to his full height. "Because I saw what happened to Draco ... and I know what needs to be done to save him."

"Do you, now?" Harry growled.

"Oh, yes." Abasi winked at him.

Harry wanted to hit him. Instead he took a step back. "I don't trust you but I acknowledge that we need your help."

"Good, very good." Smiling, Abasi strutted to the exit. He moved his body purely for Harry's enjoyment—or displeasure. Then he paused and said quite cockily: "I send Mrs Malfoy the money Mr Ahmad gives to me. He and I worry too much, you know? And, as I said before, Mr Ahmad is a very generous man."

Harry couldn't believe it. "He pays you enough money to keep Narcissa Malfoy in jewels?"

Abasi left without answering.

*

When Harry returned to their room, Malfoy lounged on the bed, feet bare. He looked like he was forcing himself to stay awake.

Harry sat down beside him and wrapped his hand around his ankle, squeezing a little. The touch comforted him.

"I don't trust Abasi," Harry said.

"Neither do I."

"He admitted that he is the one sending your mum those payments. That money is one of the reasons why the Ministry thinks you're lying."

Malfoy gulped audibly. "Do you think it's a lot of money?"

"Yes. Your family should be in rags, if I'm being honest." Harry watched Malfoy's face, expecting him to grimace, but this Malfoy didn't seem to care all that much about money.

"My mother was not wearing rags when I saw her."

"No." Harry rubbed hard at his face. "Abasi is sending your mum enough money to pay Reparations and still live in comfort. And he's getting that money from this Mr Ahmad."

"That doesn't seem right."

"No, so the question remains: Why would Mr Ahmad give Abasi so much money? And why would Abasi give so much of it to your mum?"

"Out of guilt, perhaps?"

"Because he was the one who handed you over to the embassy?"

Malfoy shrugged. "He seems to still fancy me ... maybe he isn't handling the guilt very well."

Harry didn't respond. There were too many scenarios swimming about in his head for him to put anything into words.

Harry sighed and kicked off his shoes. He crawled across the bed to lay beside Malfoy. Malfoy snuggled in close, and Harry wrapped his arms around him. Malfoy's hair smelled like Harry's shampoo.

"I'm knackered," Harry murmured, "but I don't know if I trust our safety enough to sleep."

"Ward the door and be done with it. We both need our rest."

"Yes." Harry fumbled for his wand and cast the strongest ward he knew on the door. Then he pulled Malfoy even closer and fell promptly asleep.

*

The next morning, they met Abasi for their tour of magical Cairo. Abasi didn't tell them where to meet him, so they pretended to be Muggles and took a shuttle to the Great Pyramid of Giza.

The pyramid plateau was a magnificent sight to behold. Harry understood why it had attracted visitors for thousands and thousands of years.

The plateau contained a lot more pyramids than Harry anticipated. He always imagined there to be only one great pyramid and the Great Sphinx, and that was it—but several Egyptian rulers had built structures in the area, some more successful than others.

Harry and Malfoy were gazing up at the Sphinx's weather-worn face when Abasi found them.

Harry had to admit that Abasi looked good standing there in light, casual clothing, but Abasi only had eyes for Malfoy.

"Hello, Draco," he said. His gaze was very intent on Malfoy's face.

Malfoy looked away nervously. "Hello."

Abasi clapped his hands together. "So, where should we begin? Khafre's pyramid is the closest one to us."

"I want you to show us where magical Egyptians spend their days," Harry said.

"Would you believe me if I told you it was inside the pyramids?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Inside and beneath the pyramids ... that is where our kind live here in Egypt."

"That can't be possible," Malfoy said.

"I assure you it is. I will show you."

Harry almost didn't follow him. It sounded too fantastical ... as if it was a plan to get Harry and Malfoy isolated ... vulnerable.

But they were wizards, after all.

Before Harry could decide, Malfoy grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

"Where are we going?" Harry called.

"To the Great Pyramid of Giza—Khufu's pyramid."

"Is that the one topped with a bit of white limestone?" Malfoy asked excitedly.

Abasi laughed, all good-natured. "No, that one is Khafre's pyramid. It only looks the biggest due to its positioning."

"How fascinating," Malfoy said, and he meant it. His face was pink from the sun, his temples dotted with sweat, but his eyes were bright and curious.

Abasi slowed his steps so he could walk alongside Malfoy. "Would you like me to tell you more facts?" he murmured.

"Oh, yes!"

Harry cut off the hot flare of jealousy that sliced through him. Malfoy had long ago stopped holding his hand.

If Abasi was telling the truth, then Abasi and Malfoy were in a relationship—a proper one. Harry had no business getting in the way of it.

As they walked, Abasi addressed them in the voice of a tour guide. "Everyone thinks the pyramids here in the Giza pyramid complex were built over the course of thousands of years, but most of them were built within a relatively short period of time—within a few generations of pharaohs."

Malfoy was gazing up at the pyramids with his mouth open. "How old are they?"

"The three largest pyramids date between 2560 BC and 2510 BC. That was almost five thousand years ago."

"Whoa." Malfoy wet his lips. "Were they built by magic?"

"That is a highly debated question. Most scholars say no—we have lots of evidence that shows Muggles were capable of building such large structures—but many magical people refuse to accept it."

"They used slaves, didn't they? The Muggles?" Harry said.

Abasi shook his head. "No, that's a myth. Free men built the pyramids. We have inscriptions from the work groups and records of payments to the groups. Also, the ancient Egyptians had no way of controlling large masses of men. They had no Muggle guns or whatnot."

Harry thought of the Magic is Might statue in the Ministry atrium during Voldemort's reign. "What if it were wizards and witches who enslaved Muggles and forced them to build the pyramids?"

Abasi gave him a strange look. "But if they had magic, why would they need to enslave thousands of men to build a structure the Muggle way?"

Harry shrugged.

They reached the Great Pyramid of Giza then and Abasi helped Malfoy climb the crude narrow steps to the entrance. Harry had to scramble up on his own.

"This is actually the thieves' entrance created in the ninth century. The true entrance is above our heads."

"Cool," Harry muttered. Sweat was already streaming down his face.

They entered the pyramid, and inside was dark and cramped. The tunnel had been carved out quite roughly.

They followed the dark tunnel until they hit a tight passage that slanted upward.

"This is the First Ascending Passage. We must climb to reach the Grand Gallery."

Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Do our kind really enter this way, or are you having a laugh?"

Abasi grinned at him. "I'm giving you the full experience!"

Crouching, they virtually crawled up the passage, with Abasi in the lead, Malfoy in the middle, and Harry at the back. Malfoy's arse looked incredible from this view, but Harry was also worried for his safety. If Abasi wanted to murder Malfoy in here and make it look like an accident, he could probably get away with it.

Harry was in very good shape but even he was huffing a little once they reached the Grand Gallery.

"Still with me?" Abasi said, utterly unaffected.

Malfoy gulped air and nodded. His face was very pink. Harry briefly rested a hand on his hot back and Malfoy gave him a genuine smile.

"Straight ahead is the Queen's Chamber, but we are going down." Abasi pointed at a shaft that had construction paraphernalia all over it.

"It looks like it's off limits," Harry said.

Abasi leaned closer and whispered, "Only to the Muggles. Come along."

They squeezed themselves into the well shaft, and the descent was almost frightening. It was very dark and very cramped, and they crawled and crawled.

"You're fucking with us," Harry growled, not sure why he hadn't gone for his wand yet.

"No, look—there's light! And it's not Muggle," Abasi said.

They were crawling downward but the light was coming from straight ahead. Somehow Harry and the others were able to crawl forward, the darkness expanding around them.

Then there was enough room to stand—somehow—and before Harry knew it, he and the other two men strode into a sunlit bazaar.

I don't believe my eyes, Harry thought, even though he had been living in the magical world for ten years now. It felt as if he were seeing Diagon Alley for the very first time.

Stretched before them was a twisted pathway of brilliant stone. Stalls draped in fabric crowded in on them along the pathway. Magical lamps bobbed above heads, splashing the limestone walls in an explosion of colour.

Harry glanced up and caught his breath. On the high ceiling was a gorgeous depiction of a pharaoh taking down an enemy.

"Isn't it brilliant?" Abasi said. "It depicts Ramesses II taking down Egypt's great foe the Hittites."

"Is the paint pure gold?" Malfoy said.

Abasi beamed at him. "Yes, it is. The artists even used Sinai turquoise for Ramesses' eyes."

The pathway was crowded with a stream of merchants and shoppers. Magical creatures scurried around feet and over heads, some recognisable and others entirely foreign.

There were owls and bats and cats. They were also crups and frogs and little mice.

"What are the tiny creatures that look like dragons?" Harry asked.

"They are called taniyn," Abasi said, smiling again. "Not a very unique name."

They stopped at a stall that sold little squares of cake—Basbousa. "You must try it," Abasi said, and bought them little cakes and little cups of tea.

The cake tasted of orange and honey. The tea was refreshing. Abasi seemed to know the stall owner, and he conversed warmly with the owner in Arabic as Harry and Malfoy looked on.

The owner wore a vibrant turban and he seemed to be insisting that Abasi do something—possibly buy something other than food?

Malfoy sighed as he finished his cake. His eyes fluttered, blissful. "This place is wonderful."

"Yes, no wonder you had made it your home."

Malfoy frowned a little. "We should ask to see where it happened—where I was digging."

"Right," Harry said. His stomach twisted with nerves.

Once Abasi was finished with his conversation, the three of them moved on. Abasi took on his tour guide voice again: "The modern world began in Egypt. It was the greatest civilisation of the ancient world. It was renowned for its medical science, its mythology, and especially its magic.

The Greeks—the people who are arguably the most respected of the ancient world—revered Egypt. If you read the ancient Greeks, they will all say that they got their civilisation from Egyptians. They even wanted to trace their lineage back to the Egyptians."

"Wow," Harry said, even though he really didn't want to be impressed.

Abasi continued: "The world learned how to build in stone because of the ancient Egyptians. Even the Greeks say so. The first structure built in stone in the history of the world was in Egypt."

They paused in front of a wall of lovely artwork. On it was the figure of a man with the head of a donkey.

Malfoy, already excited about everything he was learning, pointed to the picture of the man. "Is that Seth? The god who cursed me?"

"Yes," Abasi said. "The ancient Egyptians called him Set. Seth is his Greek name."

"Will you tell us about him?"

"Yes, but I must start from the beginning. In the beginning was water, and in that water were eight gods. They were called the Ogdoad, and they came in pairs—like husband and wife. The pairs were Hok and Hoket, Kuk and Kuket, Amun and Amunet, and finally Nun and Nunet. And in this world was chaos.

Then, out of the waters, came the first hill of the world. Standing on that hill was the god Atum—the self created. He was different from the Ogdoad because he could interact with the world—and with people. From Atum was born a new generation of gods—the Ennead. These new gods were Atum's descendents, including Set or Seth. Seth had three siblings—Osiris, Isis, and Nephthys. Seth was evil while his other siblings were good."

"Brilliant," Malfoy muttered.

"Things came to a head when Osiris and Isis came down to earth to civilise Egypt. Then, once the Egyptians were civilised, Osiris left to bring civilisation to the rest of the world. In his absence, Seth tried to do horrible things to Egypt. Then Isis, the goddess of magic, set out to stop her brother Seth. And she succeeded for a time. But, when Osiris returned, Seth tricked him into a chest, locked him inside, and threw him into the Nile. Osiris drowned in that chest."

Next to Harry, Malfoy audibly gulped.

"Down river, the chest came up shore and was blown into a tree. The tree grew over the chest and Osiris stayed in the tree until a foreign king cut it down and made the tree into a palace pillar. Later, Isis tracked this king down and begged for him to return the body of her brother (and husband). Finally, the king agreed.

"Isis tried to give Osiris a proper burial, but Seth found his body and cut him up into fourteen pieces. Undeterred, Isis found thirteen pieces—all except for his phallus, which was thrown into the Nile. She reconnected the parts and created an artificial phallus, and then breathed life back into his body. Put simply, she resurrected Osiris."

"I don't want to be chopped up in fourteen pieces," Malfoy said weakly.

Abasi winked at him. "And I'm sure you want your cock to remain intact?"

Malfoy put his nose in the air. "Of course."

"Will you show us where it happened? Where Malfoy was digging?" Harry said.

Abasi's expression darkened a touch. "Yes."

They followed him away from the main pathway, down a more quiet path. Here, the sunlight seemed to slip away.

"Are we still in the pyramid?"

"Yes."

They turned a corner, then another corner, and followed winding stone steps. The space was magic, pure magic, and Harry had a difficult time thinking it had any relation to reality.

They arrived at a pit where the bedrock had been carved out. "Thousands of years ago, this is where the Egyptians buried their rubbish. Now that rubbish is priceless when we try to understand how they lived."

Malfoy looked unsure. "I was digging for rubbish and somehow encountered a god?"

"Yes—possibly."

"The pit goes down farther. Would you like me to show you?" Abasi offered Malfoy his hand.

"Do you mean together—alone?"

"It's a tight fit down there. I will show you the hole and maybe it will help you remember. After, I can show Mr Potter as well."

Uncertain, Malfoy looked at Harry. "What do you think?"

Harry peered over the edge. He saw nothing but sand and bedrock. "Go ahead. I'll be right here. I can keep my eyes on you." If anything happened, his magic would reach Malfoy to protect him.

"Okay." Malfoy rubbed his lips together. He was nervous but also excited.

Malfoy took Abasi's hand, and Abasi helped ease him into the pit. Then they slowly made their way across the sand.

Harry was watching them closely. He was watching them—but then suddenly they were no longer there. He saw the tops of their heads just vanish.

"Hello?" Harry jumped into the pit, looking around. "Hello?"

The pit wasn't that big. He paced back and forth, reaching out for them. Then he dragged his hands along the rock walls, feeling for any opening, but there was nothing, utterly nothing.

Harry sat down in the dirt and tried not to panic. They would return—they had to. But minutes past, then half an hour, then—

Harry jumped to his sore legs. They weren't coming back.

Something had happened—and Malfoy was gone. Gone.

"DRACO!" Harry yelled. "DRACO! DRACO!"

Nothing answered. Not even the stupid god Seth.

Harry got on his hands and knees, and he was blowing away the sand with his wand, looking for utterly anything. He noticed, vaguely, that some of the sand fell through the tiniest of holes between two ancient bricks. Possibly this was a clue to where they had gone—

"Sir?"

Harry swerved and saw the Basbousa seller standing at the edge of the pit. "Do you know where—?" Harry was frantic.

The man frowned at him. "They disappeared, didn't they?"

"Yes! Do you know where they went? I'm alarmed—"

"You need to speak to Abasi."

"I understand that. The problem is he was just right here."

"He's not there anymore. You will need to track him down. I will give you his address."

"But—my friend—" My friend.

The man looked very sad. "You don't have much time, sir. Abasi will help you, I'm sure of it. You will just need to convince him to be brave."

Harry pulled himself out of the pit. "I don't understand."

"I don't know what's happened, but I have a good guess. Here, take this parchment. It's his address. You go to his home and you demand the truth."

"Thank you. I don't know why you're helping me—"

"I'm helping Draco. He was a good boy. Now go."

*

Harry tracked Abasi down to a flat with a roof terrace overwhelmed with plants. Harry hammered on the door, his wand at the ready. He started when a young woman opened the door.

"Yes?" she asked shyly.

"Oh. Um." Harry lowered his wand. "I'm looking for Abasi. I need to speak to him."

"I see. Please come in." She stepped aside with a smile.

Nervous, Harry scurried inside. The flat was small but cosy. The woman was cooking something sweet. The wireless was on in the kitchen, playing a pop song.

Harry waited in the lounge as the woman retrieved Abasi. Harry was sweating through his clothes. He had expected violence, not baking sweets and a pretty young woman.

He clutched his wand tighter. There could still be violence.

When Abasi appeared, he didn't look surprised to see Harry. In fact, nothing showed on his face. "Akila," he said, voice low. "Please go back to the kitchen."

She wasn't a stupid woman. She sensed the tension. "Yes, brother," she said before slipping away.

Harry took two angry steps toward Abasi. "Where is he?" he growled.

Abasi held out his hands. He hadn't gone for his wand. "I don't know. That pyramid is haunted ... cursed. I don't know if we will ever find him."

"Bollocks!" Harry thundered. His wand emitted a few sparks. "You know exactly what happened to Draco and you are going to tell me!"

"Oh, so it's Draco now?"

Harry pointed his wand straight in Abasi's face. "Do you want me to hurt you?"

"You won't hurt me. I know all about you."

Harry flinched, he couldn't help it. "How? From Draco?"

"Yes."

"He told you a lot about me?" What a stupid question to ask right now ...

Abasi's mouth twisted. "Yes."

Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped ever closer. His wand nearly brushed Abasi's cheek. This close, he saw how the man's eyes were flecked with gold.

"The problem is Draco didn't know me all that well." Harry dug his wand into Abasi's flesh. "I am capable of violence, don't you dare doubt me."

"I will not duel you with my sister here," Abasi whispered, face still showing nothing.

"A duel won't be necessary if only you told me where Draco is."

"I don't know."

"That's it, you're under arrest."

Abasi laughed. "What?"

Guided by his Auror training, Harry spun Abasi around and deftly cuffed his wrists together with a spell.

"You're not ... you have no power here."

"I'm taking you to the embassy."

"Why?" Abasi said harshly. "Because a man disappeared? I had nothing to do with it!"

Harry marched Abasi to the door. He was reaching for the knob when a woman's voice stopped him.

"You let him go," the voice growled.

Harry turned and found Akila standing in the doorway of the kitchen, wand pointed at him.

Abasi yelled something in Arabic at her. What he said only made her step closer.

"You let him go, sir, or I will Hex you."

"Your brother is a bad man," Harry said quickly. "He is involved in the kidnapping of an innocent man."

Akila raised her chin. "My brother is a hero, sir. Anything he did was to protect me."

Abasi spoke harshly to his sister. His voice sounded almost like a beg.

Then, feeling like a villain, Harry pressed his wand to Abasi's temple. "Tell me what you know about the kidnapping of Draco Malfoy, or I will hurt him."

She stared at him for a long moment. Abasi was still addressing her, frantic. He twisted against Harry.

"Our family is dead, sir," Akila said. "It is just Abasi and me."

Harry waited for her to continue.

"Everyone knows that Abasi means the world to me, and I to him. His boss, Mr Ahmad, knows it well."

"Akila," Abasi said, desperate.

"No, this ends now." Defiant, she stepped closer. "His boss is the true bad man, sir. Abasi's boyfriend—this Draco Malfoy—saw something he shouldn't have. Mr Ahmad is a man of many secrets, do you understand?"

Harry addressed Abasi: "What did he see? Tell me."

Abasi made a desperate noise in his throat. "If I tell you, Ahmad will kill her. He will kill both of us."

"He told you that?" Harry said.

"Yes."

A shudder went through Harry. "I promise I will protect the both of you. If you tell me where I can find Draco, I promise I will protect you as well."

"You don't understand how powerful he is ..."

Now it was Harry's turn to laugh. "I thought you knew who I was? I'm the boy who defeated the greatest dark wizard to ever live."

Akila was looking at him in a strange way. She Summoned a magazine from another room. "You're Harry Potter? I was just reading about you ..." Then she had the open magazine float next to Harry's face. She compared the man before her to the man in the photograph.

"Do you want me to show you my scar? My fringe might be hiding it."

"No," she said, and sent the magazine scurrying back to the other room.

"You can trust me, I promise," Harry said.

"Release my brother and I will tell you."

"I can't do that."

She cocked her head. "I thought we could trust you?"

"Yes, but ..." Cursing, Harry muttered the spell that uncuffed Abasi. He turned to Abasi quickly, expecting a fight, but the other man stumbled to his sister and pulled her into his arms.

"What did Draco uncover?" Harry asked them.

It was Abasi who answered. "Ahmad is digging for treasure in Khufu's pyramid. Illegally. And he is using captives to do so."

"Captives?"

Abasi fumbled for the right word. "Slaves, would you call them? They were ... human trafficked."

"Oh," Harry said. "The people ... are they Muggles?"

"Yes." Abasi sucked in a breath. "Being in the bazaar makes Muggles disoriented—there's too much magic in the air. This disorientation makes them highly manipulatable. They will dig and dig as if in a trance."

"But—couldn't Ahmad just use spells to look for treasure? Why does he need Muggles?"

"Ahmad is looking for magical treasure—stuff that cannot be simply Summoned. It is the kind of treasure that appears only when human hands are near."

"I—fuck."

Abasi nodded nervously. "That last night, when I arrived to pick Draco up, it was already too late for me to help him. I think he had stumbled on the hidden chamber and stupidly went to Ahmad about it." Abasi gulped. "I saw Ahmad curse him to make him forget. Then I helped Ahmad come up with the lie ... we wanted to get him out of Egypt as quickly as possible. We also wanted him locked up, far away. Ahmad and I came up with the idea to tell the British embassy that Draco had stumbled on an ancient, mystical secret to immortality. But, unfortunately, the knowledge also came with a mind altering curse ... we implied that they would have to conduct many tests on him to uncover the knowledge that he now only possessed."

Harry wanted to punch out Abasi. "And they believed such rubbish?"

"Oh, yes. People will believe anything about Egypt. Especially the British."

"I'm sure it didn't help that he was Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater." Harry squeezed his fists. "He had no one to stand up for him. No one except for his mum."

"Yes."

Harry speared Abasi with a look. "Is this why Ahmad pays you so much money?"

Abasi nodded. "He pays me well to keep quiet. He also says that he will kill Akila if I ever tell anyone about Draco—about the digging."

"And now you have told me."

"Yes," Abasi said, eyes very dark.

"Please," Harry said. "Please tell me where I can find Draco."

"Do it," Akila told her brother. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Abasi took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he pulled out his wand from his pocket and Summoned parchment and quill. He hastily wrote down an address. He didn't look at Harry as he handed over the parchment.

"Please tell Draco that I care very much for him," Abasi said.

Harry pocketed the note. "I will."

*

The note led Harry to a dark building in another part of the city. Harry didn't let himself think as he stole up the modern steps.

Inside, the building was deserted. He was in a reception area and all the signs were in Arabic. He took the magicked lift up to the top level. Wouldn't all rich men choose to live at the top level?

When the lift doors opened, the shadowy top level yawned before him. He crept along the wall, grateful for his Auror training. He knew how to move quietly due to the techniques his instructors drilled into him.

Draco could be here, he told himself, wanting to believe it. If, for some reason, Mr Ahmad had left Draco here all alone, it would make freeing him very easy.

But common sense told Harry it wasn't the truth. Everything in his body said not a soul was in the building. Deep silence pressed on his ears.

Still, Harry diligently went through every room on the top level. About thirty minutes later, he came to the realisation that Abasi had most likely lied to him.

"Fucking hell," he growled. He was so angry at himself for believing the other man.

Harry had to make coming here worth his time. Picking up his pace, he rummaged through the different rooms, looking for any clues at all. He spotted Mr Ahmad's name on many documents. He even encountered his smiling face in photographs with other business men, most of them being white. Ahmad didn't look evil, not at all. In truth, he looked like a jolly, plump grandfather.

Then Harry encountered a bedroom. On the bedside table was a framed photograph of Mr Ahmad and his family.

Harry jolted. He was in Mr Ahmad's room, among his personal things. It meant Harry could truly track him down.

There was a tracking spell Harry had learned in training: Sequio hominem. All Harry would need was a bit of his hair.

Harry snapped up the photograph and inspected Ahmad's hair. He was nearly bald but what remained was grey and black, with a few streaks of white.

Harry searched the room for a hairbrush and found three. He inspected each one closely with his lit wand. Two of the brushes had thick black hair and smelled fruity—possibly they belonged to his wife or a mistress. The third hairbrush smelled faintly of cedar and contained the hair of an old man.

"This is it," Harry muttered to himself. He tore the hair from the brush and set the curling strands in a slice of moonlight on the floor.

Harry paused, listening for sound. It was very strange that the entire place was deserted ... he mustn't let himself get captured.

He pointed his wand at the hair and muttered, "Sequio hominem." As the spell shot from his wand, Harry made three oval shapes in the air, then sliced toward the window as if to show his magic where to hunt first.

The spell hooked Harry just behind the navel and tugged him forward. He quickly followed.

*

Harry jogged for at least a mile down twisting streets. He hadn't a clue where he was going. It seemed as if he were leaving the city centre and venturing to a part where the rich hid behind walls. Homes as big as castles sprang up, their black windows guarded by date palms.

Then the spell urged Harry to stop in front of a large estate that looked as if it should have guards stationed outside. A grand gate greeted Harry, and shockingly, the gate stood slightly ajar.

It was tempting, very tempting. He had imagined himself sneaking onto the estate by propelling himself over a darkened corner ... but here was the entrance, left open almost as an invitation.

"Fuck it," Harry muttered and went for the open gate. He was ready for a fight.

Just past the threshold he spotted a dead man. It was a guard and his throat had been cut. A shudder went through Harry.

Something terrible had happened here—and recently. The blood was still wet on the ground.

Harry propelled himself down the elegant terracotta path. Trees followed him on both sides, their branches reaching seductively toward his face. The foliage could easily hide many enemies.

Harry quickened his pace. If he was being watched, he wanted to reach the house before he was taken out by whatever had killed the guard.

The grand house loomed out of the darkness suddenly. More guards lay dead on its welcoming steps.

Gulping, Harry stepped around the bodies. He wished he had his invisibility cloak, and once again damned himself for leaving it behind in England.

The house's foyer had a soaring ceiling and a crystal-licked chandelier. More bodies lay across the black and white tiles.

Harry wanted to pause, possibly see if any of the men were still alive, but the spell urged him up a grand staircase.

Upstairs, the walls were decorated with magnificent works of art. Harry thought he even spotted a piece by Picasso—but surely Mr Ahmad wasn't rich enough to own such a thing?

A loud wheezing issued from an open doorway. Harry crept to the doorway, prepared to see a dying bodyguard. Instead, he found Mr Amhad splayed out in a pool of blood, his chest thudding weakly. The loud wheezing came from him. It was his death rattle.

The room was a bedroom with a handful of different walk-in closets. One of the closet doors was closed. Through the door Harry heard the faint whimpering of a woman.

"Don't let her out."

Harry swerved around. Abasi dabbed his wet but clean face with a towel. He was bleeding heavily from his side.

It took Harry a moment to find his voice. "Who is she?"

"Mr Ahmad's mistress. I put her in there to keep her safe."

"From you?"

"Yes."

Harry let out a heavy breath. "What have you done?"

Abasi smiled at him, and there was true happiness in it. "I finally did what was right. I killed Mr Ahmad."

"And about a dozen of his guards."

The smile dropped from Abasi's face. "That couldn't be avoided. This was the only way to save Draco."

"Because Ahmad would have killed him?"

"Yes. Then he would have forced me to watch as he killed my sister. In fact, he probably would have forced me to watch both deaths. He only spared Draco at first because I had begged him."

"Where is Draco?" Harry asked carefully.

"I don't know. Somewhere on this level, I'm sure. I doubt Ahmad would have kept him far. We will have to look for him."

Harry stepped closer. "You are injured."

"Yes." Abasi laughed a little. "And also a bit dizzy, if I'm honest."

"I don't know if I can trust you, but I will help you."

"I don't need your help."

Harry moved even closer. "Sure you do." Then he was close enough to put his hands on Abasi. The other man let him.

Silently, Harry inspected the wound on Abasi's side. It was deep—too deep—and he would bleed out if they didn't heal him.

"I understand why Draco is in love with you," Abasi said quietly as Harry's hands moved over his hot skin. "You are very beautiful."

Harry glanced up into his eyes. The green and hazel looked golden again. "Draco isn't in love with me."

Abasi shook his head slowly, his eyes fluttering closed. He hissed when Harry touched a tender part.

"You should lay down on the bed. I know a few healing spells that can stop the bleeding."

"But Draco—"

"He can wait, I hope. You can't."

Reluctantly, Abasi lowered himself to the bed. The first thing Harry did was clean out his wound with a few well-aimed Aguamenti Charms.

Across the room, Mr Ahmad had gone quiet. He was properly dead now.

"You know what that means?" Abasi murmured.

"What?"

"Draco's got his memory back. The curse died with Ahmad."

Harry frowned. "Yes ... if everything you have told me is true. If Ahmad is truly the villain here." He pointed his wand at the wound and muttered, "Sana Ipsum."

Abasi hissed loudly as his wound knitted itself back together. "I'm not the villain. You will see soon enough."

"I could cast another healing spell but I'm afraid of doing damage. Your flesh closed up but it doesn't look proper ... I might have mucked it up."

Abasi gingerly touched his side. "It will do for now. Help me up."

Carefully, Harry eased him to his feet. His hand was warm and strong.

Harry looked away. "Let's get the rest of you cleaned up. You can't leave this place covered in blood."

"No, and we should hurry. If one of Ahmad's business partners stops by ..."

"Yes," Harry said gruffly. He helped clean the blood from Abasi with multiple cleaning spells. Then he found him a shirt in Ahmad's wardrobe. Together, they eased the shirt over his shoulders.

"Thank you," Abasi said.

They left the bedroom and crept down the hallway. Harry listened for the sound of voices or footsteps downstairs. Everything was eerily quiet ... except for a door at the very end of the hallway.

"Do you hear the thudding?" Harry whispered.

"Yes."

"Let's carry on ... but with caution."

"Good idea."

When they reached the door, they paused to listen closely. Draco? Harry wanted to shout, but it would be stupid to call out to him.

Harry caught Abasi's gaze, and the other man nodded in agreement. On the count of three, they unlocked the door and stumbled inside. Everything was dark, and Harry was the first one inside—

Something hard and heavy smacked him in the head, along the shoulders. He crashed to the floor. Abasi betrayed me! he thought, frantic.

But, no—Abasi shoved the man against the wall. They were wrestling, breathing hard. Then Abasi said—

"Draco, shh. It's me, it's me."

"Oh my god," came Malfoy's voice.

Harry crawled to his feet and turned on the lights with his wand. He found Abasi and Malfoy against the wall, embracing—then Abasi kissed Malfoy.

Harry nearly charged them. Get your hands off him! Harry wanted to yell, but he slowly understood what he was seeing.

Malfoy cried and clutched Abasi closer. "How could you?" he gasped.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Abasi was crying, too.

Harry turned away awkwardly. He wanted to give them privacy, but he didn't trust Abasi enough to leave them alone. His gaze fell on a broken chair. It was the thing Malfoy had used to hit him.

There was the sound of a smack, and Harry glanced over his shoulder. Malfoy had smacked Abasi in the face.

"You threw me away!" Malfoy thundered. "You let Mr Ahmad shove me off to the Ministry—imprison me—"

"I was afraid! My sister—"

Malfoy shoved Abasi back. "Yes, of course. You would rather lose me than your sister. I understand perfectly."

"It was an awful choice. It ate me up inside ..."

Malfoy looked around the room, utterly ignoring Harry. "I heard screaming. Did you kill people?" He said this to Abasi.

"Yes." Abasi gulped desperately. "I killed Mr Ahmad—his bodyguards. I did it all for you."

"And to save your own arse. Potter here figured it all out, didn't he?"

"Mostly."

Malfoy snorted and crossed his arms. He looked up into a corner. His grey eyes gleamed as if he were going to cry. He blinked several times.

"Draco ... please. Please forgive me."

"No, I can't. You should have never done what you did. But, we shan't talk about that now. Not whilst Mr Ahmad's slaves are all still stuck in that grubby hole."

Harry finally spoke: "I'll help you free them tonight. We can leave now."

"No," Abasi insisted. "I must do it myself. Neither of you will continue to risk yourselves. I refuse to let it happen."

Harry didn't like the order he heard in Abasi's tone, but he did understand the importance of getting Malfoy back to England as quickly as possible. Ahmad's business partners didn't sound like peaceful fellows ...

"If I had my wand, I would go with you no matter what you said," Malfoy said bitterly.

"You and Mr Potter will only be in the way if you come with me," Abasi said.

"I've got the last two Portkeys back in our hotel room," Harry said to Malfoy's profile. "We can Apparate back there, grab the Portkeys, and be off within the hour ..."

Malfoy continued to look at Abasi. A flood of emotion passed between the two men.

"I can never forgive you," Malfoy said.

Miserable, Abasi whispered, "I know."

Malfoy closed the space between them. He kissed Abasi lightly on the lips. "Goodbye."

Abasi shuddered as if he wanted to embrace Malfoy but stopped himself. "Goodbye, Draco. I wish you luck back home." Then, surprisingly, he turned to Harry. "I left an envelope for you with the hotel receptionist. The contents are the copies of my memories. Show them to your authorities so they understand that Malfoy should be released."

"I will." Harry felt a heavy pressure in his chest.

*

When they returned to the Hatshepsut Hotel, Malfoy was crying and trying to hide it. Harry remained silent and did his best not to look at him. After everything he had been through, Malfoy deserved what privacy Harry could afford him.

Harry pocketed the envelope from the receptionist and they went up to their hotel room. Harry was immensely relieved to find the place empty and not crawling with Aurors or bloodthirsty businessmen.

They quickly packed up their few belongings. Then Harry set down the sock on the bed, which would take them to the coast of Spain.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked Malfoy.

Mutely, face tear-stained, Malfoy nodded. Harry activated the Portkey with a spell, then took Malfoy's hand.

Harry grabbed the sock and suddenly the hotel room fell away.

Goodbye, Egypt, Harry thought. Goodbye, Abasi.

*

After a detour to the beautiful coast of Spain, Harry and Malfoy landed in the parlour of Grimmauld Place. Harry was mildly shocked the Ministry hadn't found a way to block him from entering his own home, but he did know that the enchantments in and around Grimmauld Place were very strong. Quite possibly, the Ministry had tried and failed.

Harry only realised he was still holding Malfoy's hand when Malfoy yanked away.

Harry hadn't a clue how to speak to this Malfoy—the real one—so he said nothing. Instead, he set about making them some tea, then Summoning the Pensieve from the library.

Malfoy stared for a long moment at the stone basin, a steaming teacup anchored between his hands.

"Do you have a plan?" Malfoy said finally.

"Yes," Harry said, too embarrassed to look at him. "Our combined memories are rather enough evidence to get the Ministry off your back. And hopefully off mine, too."

Malfoy snorted. "The Ministry isn't going to lock you up. Not their Golden Boy. They only do that to poor former Death Eaters like me."

It made Harry sad to hear the hostility in Malfoy's voice. He didn't miss the old Malfoy, not exactly, but he did miss his understanding ... his empathy.

Harry took a deep breath. "May I take your memories for evidence? What you saw in Khufu's pyramid and then what you remember of Mr Ahmad cursing you? I'd let you do it yourself, but you don't have your wand ..."

Malfoy looked ill. "Will I still have them? My memories?"

"Yes, they are only copies."

"Fine." Malfoy sat up straighter in his chair, preparing himself.

Harry came closer, looking into Malfoy's eyes. For a moment, Malfoy looked back, but then he snapped his gaze closed.

"Think of those moments while I pull out your memories," Harry said softly. He wanted Malfoy to blush, maybe bite his lip, but Malfoy remained still. He waited a moment, then said, "Are you thinking of it?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Harry pulled the shimmering memories from Malfoy's temple. He dropped each one into the Pensieve. When it was done, Harry whispered, "Very good," but Malfoy didn't react.

Harry turned away to peer down at the memories shimmering in the basin. He stirred them with his wand, catching glimpses of the scenes. They all looked right.

"I'm going to make three copies of our memories. One for us, one for Hermione, and the other for the Ministry."

"Why Granger?" Malfoy almost sounded disgusted.

Harry turned back around just so Malfoy could see his narrowed eyes. "Hermione's a capable person. And I hope she is still trustworthy. People in the Ministry respect her in a way they don't respect me. It would help us immensely if she were on our side."

"Isn't she already on our side? Since she's your friend?"

"I hope so."

Malfoy cursed under his breath and looked away. For a moment, his eyes flooded with tears. "I think he's dead, you know."

"Abasi."

Malfoy nodded and wiped angrily at his face. "What he did ... Mr Ahmad's men will find him and cut him down. I only hope that he was able to free those poor people quickly, then flee the country before anyone figured it out."

"I should have stayed and helped him."

Malfoy shook his head. "No. Only he knew exactly what needed to be done. Like he said, we would have only been in the way."

"At the very least, I could have helped protect him ... save his life."

Malfoy rubbed at his cheeks. "Maybe he is alive. I suppose it's too early to know for sure."

"In any case, I'm sorry ... I could tell that you cared for him dearly."

"Potter, shut up."

Fine, Harry thought, and continued with his work. They sat in silence as Harry copied Abasi's memories, then his own. He dropped each set of silvery memories in old phials he had found in the house. Hopefully the phials would hold up.

When the work was complete, Harry sat down next to Malfoy. "Prepare yourself," he told Malfoy. "I'm going to summon Robards and Clearwater."

Malfoy frowned. "Robards is your boss?"

"He's the Head of the Aurors."

"I see." Malfoy had gone pale.

Harry sent off the summons using another spell he had learned in training. Then he settled back down on the sofa and waited. He tried not to look too much at Malfoy, but it was quite difficult. He tried to glimpse the other Malfoy—his vulnerability, his tenderness—but the man next to him only grew colder and more pinched.

"Stop staring at me," he snapped.

Harry forced his gaze to the old carpet.

A few minutes later, his Floo flared to life and three figures stumbled out: Robards, Clearwater, and Hermione.

Harry jumped to his feet. "What are you doing here?" he cried.

The next moment she was in his arms, trembling in relief. "Harry, I could murder you!"

"I'm sorry," he said, his mouth full of her wild hair.

Her tears made a wet spot on his shoulder. "I'm so glad you're back. I'm so glad you're safe."

"This one refused to leave my office," Robards said, speaking of Hermione.

Harry pulled away to look at her in amazement. "I thought you would be angry with me."

"And I am! But I wasn't going to let them conspire against you!"

"We would have done no such thing, Granger," Clearwater said coldly.

"I've got evidence that proves Malfoy is innocent." As Harry said this, he caught a glimpse of Mrs Black in her portrait, eating chocolate and watching the drama unfold with excitement.

"I'm sure you do," Robards said, "but first I want to know how you weasled your way out of the country. We had all legal forms of travel under watch."

"You don't have to answer that, Harry," Hermione said fiercely. "I know every law passed by the Wizengamot. I know your rights. You needn't answer anything you don't want to. Not when they don't have evidence against you."

"We know he stole Mr Malfoy from the Department of Mysteries," Clearwater said. "He could go to prison for years just for that act alone."

"He saved me!" Malfoy insisted.

"Oh, sure, try to prosecute me for that, go right ahead, but I'm sure the public would love to know that you violated Malfoy's rights by imprisoning him without his consent, especially after he witnessed a crime of international human trafficking!" Harry thundered.

Clearwater blinked. "Pardon?"

Robards looked stunned. "What are you on about, Potter?"

"Let me show you," Harry said through gritted teeth. He handed Clearwater their phial of memories and motioned to the Pensieve. "Go on. Have a look."

Apprehensive, Clearwater took the phial and went to the table. She poured the memories into the basin, then stirred them with her wand and examined them for a moment. She nodded to Robards. "Please join me."

"Oh, all right," Robards growled.

He and Clearwater entered the Pensieve.

As they waited, Hermione clutched Harry's hand. "Did you really run off to Egypt?" she insisted.

"Yeah."

She grimaced. "And you found people being trafficked?"

Malfoy butted in. "I'd rather he not go into details at the moment, Granger."

She seemed to want to glare at him, but then caught herself. "Yes, I understand."

Harry's heart was thundering in his chest. If this didn't work, then he would be forced to chuck Clearwater and Robards out and find a barrister as soon as possible. He sneaked a glance at Malfoy. Of course he wouldn't let Malfoy out of his sight, no matter how much the man protested. He would find a way to keep Malfoy safe and free.

Hermione must have felt Harry trembling, because she squeezed his hand and whispered, "It's going to be okay. We will fight this, no matter what happens."

When Clearwater and Robards emerged from the Pensieve, they both looked quite shaken.

"We will have to confirm the validity of the memories," Robards said.

"The DMLE should alert Egyptian officials of the crime," Harry said.

Robards seemed unable to look at Harry. "Yes."

Clearwater's face was very pale. There seemed to be no life in her eyes. "The DOM will also have to verify the memories."

"And?" Harry pressed.

Clearwater gulped. "And I believe the right choice is let Mr Malfoy remain out of our custody until further—"

"I want a settlement," Malfoy said. "We both know you don't want any of this ending up in the press, so you go back to your bosses and tell them they need to pay me."

Hermione nodded. "Reimbursement would only be right."

"And I want my wand back as soon as possible!" Malfoy demanded.

Clearwater looked unsure. "I shall speak to my colleagues." Then she took her leave.

Robards lingered. He intended to speak to Harry, but Harry didn't give him the opportunity.

"I resign from the Aurors," Harry said. "I will send you my official letter today. Would that be professional enough for you?"

"Potter—" Robard began but fell short. Then he nodded. "I understand, but I do want you to know that the department only did what we thought was best for you and Malfoy."

"It wasn't enough," Harry said.

Looking a bit sick, Robards left via the Floo as well.

Harry slumped down on the sofa, utterly exhausted. Was it really over?

"They will be back for those memories," Hermione said.

Harry laid his head back and closed his eyes. "Yeah."

"Well, this has all been exciting, but I must go now." Malfoy inched toward the Floo.

Harry shot up from the sofa. Something pathetic and needy in him didn't want Malfoy to leave, but of course he would. Malfoy didn't care for him, not really.

"Oh, um." Harry staggered toward him. "May I write to you?"

"You may do whatever you please, Potter." Malfoy stepped into the fireplace and nodded to Hermione. "Good day, Granger." A moment later, he was gone in a flare of green fire.

Ignoring the weird rise of panic inside him, Harry went to the portrait on the wall. "Did you enjoy yourself, Mrs Black?" he asked casually.

She was cleaning the chocolate from her fingers with a dainty serviette. "Oh, yes."

"Would you like me to stay?" Hermione asked quietly.

"No," Harry said, pushing down his feelings. "I'll be all right."

*

Two weeks went by and Harry didn't hear from Malfoy. Draco.

Harry hadn't heard from Robards and Clearwater, but he did send over the memories via OOP—Official Owl Post.

Harry also subscribed to a magical Egyptian newspaper. The story of Mr Ahmad's illegal operation appeared on its front page only a few days after he and Draco had left. Frustratingly, the article didn't mention Abasi, but it reported that the Muggles had been freed. It also didn't mention any further deaths., which implied that Abasi had escaped safely.

Regret and shame and longing filled Harry. He shouldn't have kissed Draco—he shouldn't have had sex with him. Draco probably hated his guts—he had been vulnerable, and Harry had taken advantage ...

He remembered how Draco had barely looked at him after regaining his memory. Draco hadn't smiled at him, hadn't reached for him, and his heart so obviously had been with Abasi.

Draco would never have wanted Harry if he had remembered Abasi.

Finally, Harry sat down and wrote Draco a quick note:

Dear Draco,

I'm sorry for taking advantage of you. I am. I tried to hold myself back but I didn't and it's utterly my fault. I understand that I violated you and I'm sorry. You were in no position to consent to sex with me.

I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I hope you are holding up.

Sincerely,
Harry

A day later, Harry received a response from Draco. Draco had used the same parchment, merely crossing out what Harry had said. His script was elegant, so elegant.

Potter, you idiot. I'm not a victim and you're not a villain. I just need time.

-DM

P.S. I know what pizza is, you dolt.

P.S.S. You should have just buggered me. I'm almost insulted that I wasn't hot enough to make you do it.

Harry barked out a laugh. He couldn't help it. It was wrong, and definitely not acceptable behaviour, but Harry was so desperately relieved.

Draco didn't hate him. In fact, his note implied that he still wanted Harry.

Harry pressed the note to his mouth. "Please," he breathed.

Moving to set the note on his desk, he discovered Draco had included a clipping out of the Prophet. It was the engagement announcement for Astoria Greengrass and Blaise Zabini.

Harry turned the clipping over, looking for another note from Draco, but Draco had included it without comment.

*

It was a month after returning from Egypt, and Harry was once again alone in Grimmauld Place. He had a lot of time on his hands now, and he didn't really know what to do with himself. For entertainment, Harry had sought out books on Egypt in the old Black library.

Much of what the books contained was utter rubbish, but they gave Harry a better understanding of how magical British society viewed Egypt—not as a place with real, self-reliant people, but as a place that was far away and mystical and easy to plunder.

Harry was curled up with a book in front of the fireplace when there was a knock on his door.

Frowning, Harry set the book aside and padded to the dark foyer to receive his visitor.

"Oh," he said because Draco Malfoy stood on the other side of the threshold.

Draco looked so fucking good. He wore impeccable dark blue robes and his hair was styled so neatly, so perfectly.

Draco's mouth twisted. "Hello, Potter."

Harry gulped. "Hello. Would you like to come in?"

Raising an eyebrow, he drawled, "No, I'd rather just stand here on your steps and be gawked at by the Muggles."

"Right." Harry stepped aside. "Please come in. Would you care for a drink?"

Draco slipped past Harry, their bodies brushing, and his wonderful sandalwood cologne reached for Harry.

"I've brought pizza."

"What?"

Draco's mouth twisted again. "Oh, yes. And I want you to fetch my great aunt so she can watch me eat it."

Harry laughed nervously. They were in the parlour now, and all the candles were barely alive. Standing close to Draco, alone, with all these shadows for company made Harry's cock throb so needily.

"Um. I'll fetch some plates, then. And drinks. I've got beer and—and—fizzy drinks."

"I'll have a fizzy drink. Hopefully it comes in one of those horrid plastic bottles Muggles favour."

"They are cans."

Draco shrugged. "I suppose that will do."

Harry scurried down to the kitchen even though he could've Summoned it all by magic. He needed a moment alone to gather his wits.

When he returned, Draco was standing by an end table he'd enlarged to fit the pizza box. Harry set down the plates and cutlery and fizzy drinks. He was so nervous he could barely look at Draco.

The pizza was pepperoni and mushroom, and Harry and Draco tucked into their meal without much speaking. Predictably, Draco ate his slice with a knife and fork.

Draco eyed Harry's jumper, and Harry, self conscious, tugged at its sleeves. Harry wasn't used to being self conscious about his clothing choice, but Draco looked so damn elegant in his robes.

"I bet that you loved I wore a Weasley jumper," Draco said.

Harry finally raised his gaze to Draco's face. "It gave me a right shock. I don't know if I loved it since you weren't yourself when you did it."

"You want me to be myself around you?"

"Yes."

A ghost of a sneer came over Draco's face. "I doubt that, Potter."

Harry took a long swallow of his fizzy drink. "Why?"

Draco looked away. Some of his confidence had dimmed. "Because maybe I'm not a nice person."

"I think you could be nice."

Draco huffed a laugh then pinned Harry with a look. "Do you know I wanted to kill you," he said softly.

"What?"

"Oh, yes. In year six. I fantasised about it."

"You fantasised about killing me?"

"Yes—for what you did to my father. He was locked up in Azkaban—in pain—because of you. He had failed because of you—and it was all your fault that I was being punished by the Dark Lord."

Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Did you fantasise about other things as well?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

Harry looked into his eyes. "You know what I'm asking."

Then it happened: Draco flushed. He flushed and dropped his gaze, and it reminded Harry so much of the Draco who had no memory.

Harry felt himself go hard in his trousers.

"I wasn't a complete idiot when I didn't have my memories," Draco said slowly, still pink. He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip as if he wanted to sucked on it but stopped himself. "I was right when I said I had wanted you."

"And—" Harry stopped himself before he asked an inappropriate question.

Draco's eyes glittered. "Go on. You don't need to censor yourself."

"Was it true that you thought of me when you sucked off another man?"

Draco's colour deepened. He was breathing a little heavier now. "Yes."

"Abasi?"

Draco didn't flinch. "How many cocks do you think I've sucked?"

"Oh—uh. I haven't the faintest idea."

"Just two, Potter." Draco looked defiant as he said this.

"Abasi and who else?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You."

"But you barely got your mouth on me."

Draco shuddered a little. "Do you want me to be honest with you? Do you think you could handle it?"

"Um." Harry blinked, trying to focus his thoughts. "Yeah."

"I didn't really fancy Abasi at first. I only shagged him because, well, he reminded me of you."

Harry just looked at him. There was too much want in him to speak.

"That makes me sound like a proper creep, doesn't it? I wanted you in a deranged sort of way. I utterly loathed you, and I wanted you to suffer, but I also thought about kissing you—a lot."

"When? In sixth year?"

Draco finally dropped his gaze. "Yes—and earlier."

Harry had to sit with that information for a moment. Draco was being very brave by telling him. It couldn't have been easy for him.

"I thought I was straight," Harry said. "I thought I was going to marry Ginny Weasley, but then the end of the war happened, and I finally had time to reflect on my life and—"

"You realised you wanted to fuck a man in the arse?"

Harry's thoughts utterly fractured. This was Draco Malfoy talking to him about such filthy things.

"I thought about it before I had even walked into your cell," Harry said suddenly. "I wanted to hold a man down and sink my cock into him, and he was always blond in my head, but—"

"You can hold me down and put your cock in me."

Harry heard a roar in his ears. "What about Abasi?"

"I don't want to talk about him. He is in the past."

"But you cared for him—"

"And he betrayed me," Draco hissed.

"Yes, but—"

Suddenly Draco stood. "Have you heard a word I've said to you? I got dressed up for you. I came to this old gloomy house for you. I even waxed my arsehole for you—"

Then Harry was on his feet and he was crowding Draco against the wall. He virtually shoved him, pinning him against the old wallpaper, but there was utterly no fight in Draco, only submission.

"Oh," Harry said.

"Please."

"Oh, fuck."

Harry kissed him. Draco's mouth was so soft. Whimpering, Draco arched against him.

It was earth shattering because Harry realised Draco could be sweet and tender. The Draco without his memories hadn't been fake or unreal, but merely another side of him.

Harry drew back so he could take Draco's bottom lip into his mouth. He sucked and sucked, and Draco moaned so sweetly.

Harry had him pinned to the wall, his hips working gently against him. Draco's hip felt so good against his hard prick.

Kissing him again, Harry whispered, "You want to be so good for me, don't you?"

"Please," Draco whined, his hands twisting Harry's jumper.

"You want me to put my mouth on your perfect little hole? You want me to make love to you?" Somehow the naughty words came so easily to him.

"Yes!" Draco's voice was a cry.

Harry took Draco's hand and led him upstairs. They passed by Mrs Black's empty portrait.

Harry's bedroom was a disaster. He hadn't expected company and there were piles of books and dirty clothes everywhere.

"You've been reading about Egypt," Draco said.

"Yes," Harry grunted, then started yanking at Draco's clothes.

"Watch it now," Draco said, stopping his hands. "I'm poor now and this is my finest pair of robes."

"The Ministry didn't give you a settlement?"

"We're still negotiating."

Frustrated, Harry stepped back. "Fine, take them off yourself but be quick about it."

Draco dropped his gaze. "Yes, Harry."

They quickly undressed themselves. When Harry went to remove his glasses, Draco stilled his hand. "Please leave them on," Draco said shyly.

Then they were truly naked with one another, and Harry wanted to shove Draco onto the bed and have his way with him, but he paused and allowed Draco's hungry gaze to roam over his nudity.

Draco stepped closer and dragged a trembling hand down Harry's chest. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Me either."

Draco's gaze was zeroed in on Harry's cock. "I can't believe I'm making you hard. Me."

Harry gently took his hand and placed it on his prick. "You made me hard even when we were just talking in that stupid cell."

Gulping, Draco watched his hand work up and down Harry's cock. "Yeah? You liked how pathetically desperate I was for you?"

"I liked seeing you in soft jumpers."

Draco eased to his knees. With his cock a mere inch from his lips, he looked up and said, "I like jumpers. Just not ugly Weasley ones."

Harry buried his hands in his soft, soft hair. "You like being warm and cosy?"

"Oh, yes. Very much." Then Draco wrapped his lips around his cock and Harry's eyes went unfocussed.

Moaning, Draco bobbed his head. His mouth was so sweet, so attentive, and Harry had to stop his fingers from yanking at his hair.

Draco pulled back, a bit of Harry's precome stringing from his lips. His eyes were half-closed, his face so pink.

"I've wanted this for so long."

Harry tugged his hair. "Shh, don't say such things or I'll come."

"Yes, sir," Draco said so quietly. Cradling Harry's bollocks, he licked up and down his shaft, almost teasing him.

Harry twisted his eyes closed. He could easily come like this. It wasn't as if he had much experience with blokes sucking him off, and Draco's tongue was so fucking perfect as it teased his crown.

"Wait." Harry hauled Draco to his feet.

Draco blinked at him. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no." Harry kissed his perfect mouth, then moaned when he tasted himself.

Harry guided Draco to his unmade bed, then took a moment to turn on a few lights. Draco blinked owlishly at him.

"Are the lights necessary?"

"Yes. Now turn over so I can see that perfect little hole."

Blushing deeply, Draco dropped his gaze and eased himself onto his stomach. Impatient, Harry hauled him to his knees and made room for himself between his thighs.

Moaning, Draco buried his face into a pillow. He arched, presenting his arse to Harry.

Harry had to pause to gather himself. He was losing touch quickly, and he felt something so possessive rising in him. It was all very new, and he didn't want to hurt Draco. He wanted to make sure Draco loved every second of it.

"Tell me if you don't like something I do," Harry said, even though the words were utterly inadequate. He wanted to say something like, Tell me now if you don't want to be mine, all mine, because I will own you once I'm inside you. It was a bloody weird thing to think and say.

"Yes," Draco said, muffled.

Harry ran his hands down Draco's long warm back. Draco sighed in pleasure. Harry took a moment to fondle his round cheeks, and his flesh was soft and somehow hairless—

Then Harry parted him with his thumbs, glimpsing his arsehole for the first time, and nearly all sane thought fled his mind.

For a moment, all Harry could do was stare. He realised saliva had filled his mouth and he would literally drool on himself if he wasn't careful.

"Fuck," Harry muttered, and he didn't recognise his own voice.

"Is it—good?" Draco asked.

"Good?" Harry answered, not understanding. It was more than good. It was—

"Do you like it?"

Harry couldn't speak. He couldn't. If he said anything right now it would be cruel, so cruel, and it would be wrong, so deliciously wrong.

Harry imagined himself leaning down and whispering in Draco's ear, Like it? I'm going to fucking ruin you. But how could he say something like that?

"Potter," Draco said, head now lifted. He didn't sound very pleased.

"Yes," Harry growled. "I fucking love it. Now shut up." Then Harry licked his pretty, hairless hole before he could say anything else.

Draco moaned and buried his face in the pillow again. He rocked back, spine arched, and he was such a slag for Harry's mouth—

Harry shuddered, his thoughts making him hot, so hot. Harry licked and licked, and all he tasted was faint soap and clean skin. Draco was so good for preparing himself like this.

All for me, Harry thought, and he pressed the tip of his tongue into Draco's hole, urging the flesh to surrender to him.

Moaning, Draco widened his thighs eagerly, trying to relax for Harry. Harry licked and drilled until he felt Draco open for him. Harry was able to squeeze just the tip of his tongue inside.

"Yes!" Draco cried out.

Harry growled and drilled deeper. When Draco was relaxed enough, Harry fucked him with his tongue, wiggling in and out. Draco's thighs began to shake.

You like it? You like my tongue fucking you? he wanted to say.

"Oh, yes, yes," Draco whined, as if he sensed Harry's possessive thoughts. Harry growled in response.

Then Harry remembered Draco's perfect stones and he licked down, following his perineum. Draco gasped and spread his thighs even more so Harry could get a good taste. His glasses definitely got in the way.

"Put me on my back," Draco gasped.

Harry liked how he'd phrased that. More of a request than a command.

Harry eased Draco onto his back, forcing his hands to be gentle, so gentle. Draco's face was red and sweaty, and his hair was dishevelled. He looked like a man ready to be taken.

They stared at each other for a moment, then Harry dragged his open mouth down Draco's throat.

Draco ran his hands down Harry's back. Harry kissed his throat, his jaw. He whispered: "There's so many things I want to say to you."

"Tell me."

Harry grabbed his pointed chin and gazed into his lidded eyes. "You won't like it."

"Try me."

Taking a steadying breath, Harry whispered a lube spell, getting his fingers wet. He reached down and slipped a finger inside Draco.

Harry stared into Draco's eyes as he fucked him with that one finger. Draco was very tight.

"Your pretty little hole is all mine, Malfoy."

Draco's mouth dropped open. "Yeah?"

Harry squeezed in a second finger. He took a deep breath, trying to control himself. His prick was leaking for Draco.

"You're so fucking tight I don't know how I'll fit inside you."

Draco sucked on his bottom lip, his gaze turning shy. "Is it going to hurt, sir?"

"Do you want it to hurt?"

Still shy, Draco nodded.

Harry nearly lost his fucking mind. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath.

With his fingers gently fucking him, Harry leaned down to drop a kiss to Draco's mouth. "Then yes, it's going to hurt. It's going to hurt, but you're going to be so good for me, aren't you?"

"Yes!"

Harry pulled his fingers out because he couldn't wait any longer. Shaking, he cast another lube spell and worked the slick over his cock.

Then he got into position, his cock poised at Draco's hole. He stared down at Draco, looking for something in his expression. He was about to shag his childhood rival, and it was perfect, utterly perfect.

Draco leaned up and kissed him sweetly. "Please," he whispered against his lips.

Harry pressed inside. The sensation was—it was—

"Oh, Merlin," Draco moaned lowly.

Harry couldn't think as he slid into Draco's tight, tight heat. It was frightening how good it felt. The pleasure stole something essential from him.

Panting, Draco clawed at his back. He writhed a little as if he wanted to get away.

I should stop, ask him if he's all right, Harry thought, but he was already fucking Draco. He was already fucking him hard, and he was driven by utter instinct.

"Oh, it hurts," Draco whimpered.

His words meant something. They meant something, and Harry needed to pause—

"Tell me to stop," Harry said.

"No!"

"Tell me and I will do it."

"Please don't stop!"

Harry fisted his hair roughly. He pinned Draco to the bed and growled, "Then shut your fucking mouth."

"Fuck me, fuck me," Draco said, not shutting his mouth. "Oh, Merlin, fuck me."

Growling, Harry snapped his hips forward, again and again. He stared down at Draco in a vague sort of way. He was utterly lost to himself.

Draco was unravelling. He was going to utter pieces.

"Oh, please, Harry! Please! Take me, just take me."

Desperate to get closer, Harry pulled Draco's long legs over his shoulders. Then he pounded into Draco, going so hard and fast that even the old bed groaned beneath them.

Their faces were so close that their noses brushed, and Harry smelled the pizza and sugar on Draco's breath.

"You saved me," Draco whispered.

Harry moaned, his glasses slipping down his nose. Draco squeezed around him, and it made his thrusts stutter. Vaguely, Harry knew he was close to coming.

"You saved me and now I'm yours."

"All mine," Harry growled. Somehow he was able to reach down and stroke Draco's cock.

"I can't take it," Draco cried. Harry had his knees bent nearly to his ears.

Harry stroked his cock, but the angle was so awkward, and he was so close—

"I love you, Harry."

Orgasm hit Harry hard. He threw his head back and cried out hoarsely. He pounded one last time and stilled, emptying himself deep inside Draco. He felt how Draco's arse fluttered around his cock.

The fog cleared from Harry's head. He was finally himself again.

"Oh, Draco," he murmured and kissed him. He thrust gently a few times, then eased himself out.

Draco lay shuddering against the sheets.

"Are you all right?" Harry panted.

"Yes."

"Did I hurt you?"

Draco gulped and shook his head no.

Harry spread out beside him and took his pretty cock in hand. He nuzzled Draco's neck as he stroked him quickly.

"You were so good for me."

Draco squeezed his eyes closed. "Who knew you could be so toppy." His voice was breathless.

Not me.

Grateful for his glasses, Harry watched his hand stroke Draco to completion. Draco was so wet for him.

Harry whispered in his ear, "I love you, too." Draco cried out and thrust, and he spilled over Harry's fist.

When it was all over, Draco looked on the verge of sleep, but his eyes snapped open when Harry sucked a bit of his spunk off his fingers.

Draco watched Harry's tongue working over his own fingers, then he Summoned his wand and cleaned them both up.

"You got it back," Harry said, his arms now around Draco.

"Yes."

They fell asleep together. When Harry woke up, Draco was playing with a bit of his hair.

Harry yawned and stretched. They had probably dozed for about twenty minutes. "I like you being in my bed."

"Did you mean it?" Draco asked suddenly.

"That I love you?"

Draco blushed. "Yes."

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

"But ... you don't know me. Not really."

"And you don't really know me, do you?"

Draco huffed a laugh. It was a touch arrogant. "Oh, I know you."

Harry grinned and stroked his cheek. "Have you heard from Abasi?"

Going still, Draco nodded. "He sent me a single owl. He said he and his sister were safe and that the authorities in Egypt were looking into Mr Ahmad's business partners."

"That's good ... I read a bit about it in the newspaper." Harry continued to stroke his face. "Did you love Abasi?"

Draco looked away. "I don't know."

"It's okay if you did—or still do."

"All I know is that I want to be with you."

Harry beamed at him. "Really?"

"Yes, you idiot. I love you."