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The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5831 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Own any part or character from The Harry Potter series, Or The Master of Magics Trilogy, They belong to J.k. Rowling and Lyndon Hardy, i make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
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Chapter 19 : Keeping a Malfoy

I also possess the power of speech my love, my judge

I wish you would once ask me what is my opinion, conviction…

Oh foolish heart what is wrong with you?

What is the reason of this pain that haunts you?

(Main bhi munh mein zubaan rakhta hun,

Kaash pocho kay mudua'a kya hai?

Dil-e-nadaan tujhe hua kya hai?

Aakhir iss dard ki wajah kya hai?)

Ghalib.

"Harry?"

Hermoine's voice from the door snapped him out of his deep blank thoughts. He looked down at his hand still twirling the wand of his once enemy twirling in his hand as it still hummed with power and obeisance and the magic that seeped into his very chest from the palm of his hand.

"Hey Mione." Said Harry, looking up swing, swinging slightly in the cool breeze of late October. Only a week away from Halloween. Though at the Burrow the decorations were already half up.

Hermoine carefully descended the steps that lead to the small back garden from the kitchen backdoor. This garden that he had helped planted a new, alongside the countless time he had helped Ron de-gnome it.

As Hermoine neared him, he noticed her face glowing in the afternoon sun, her bushy hair like spun gold and the deep red of her jumper enhancing that glow that pregnant women always had. There is nothing more beautiful than a woman heavy with child.

He remembered Tonks glowing like that in the afternoon sun that drifted in from her parents window, the one time he had seen her before he saw her for the very last time. She had glowed the same way and Harry had found it mesmerizing, though he did not know then that she was pregnant with Teddy. That beautiful memory brought with it the memory of Remus' and Tonks' still close bodies lying side by side, on the death-field.

Hermione looked same kind of beautiful now, angelic and delicate, yet strong too. A sudden fear clenched his heart with a surge of protectiveness. He had lost every beautiful thing in his life. He would rather die before he saw any harm come to his beautiful best friend.

"It is such a beautiful afternoon; I love the nip in the air this time of the year." She sighed as she sits next to him on the wrought-iron bench. He nodded, leaning on the side to kiss her on the temple before he wrapped his arm around her shoulder making her lean against him as she put her legs up. He had learnt from Winky that pregnant women need a proper soft and warm cushion around this stage, and his best-friend and confidant won't be so comfortable against the hard bench.

She reached out to take the wand in his hand and brought it closer to her nose. Inhaling. Before she closed her eyes.

"Do you want to talk about this?" she said almost in a whisper. She knew what the significance of this wand in his hand meant.

"I am thinking of giving it back to his mother, though, I strangely don't want to part with it. I know it won't be any use to her, it obeys me now, but still. I think she should have this piece of her son at least, now that even her husband is gone."

"You aren't blaming yourself for Lucius Malfoy's death are you Harry? You do realize that it is not your fault. That it is no one's fault but his own. He made it his fate when he took that mark on his arm decades ago. I know it is a painful way to go, this Dark-Mark poisoning but, it's the way they all chose themselves."

He simply nodded at her statement.

They stayed quiet like that for a moment while Hermione relaxed against him.

"You are not going to ask Ginny to marry, are you?" she asked him still relaxed against him.

He snorted in surprise at the implication of that question, the blatant opinion in it.

"I don't have any plans to…" he said still chuckling, though curious now.

"You better not Harry, though I must warn you that she is expecting it. Don't let her corner you into it because she will."

"Thanks for the heads up, though the question rises…" but she jumped in before he could complete the sentence.

"Why I am against it? Why I don't want my best friend to marry my sister-in-law? The answer is rather simple. You don't love her, and you don't deserve to settle for less than absolutely irrevocable love and passion Harry. You need that all-consuming, all-encompassing relationship in your life, and Ginny is too self-absorbed to be that for you. She wants to be adored, and deserves to be adored, but she is too stubborn to admit even if she realizes that she is settling for less with you. So, it's good that you have no plans of marrying her. Though laying her off gently won't do much good if and when she confronts you about it. Which I can promise she will."

"She will hate me for it Hermione."

"Only until she gets over you, which she will when she takes off the rose-tinted sunglasses called Harry-Potter and actually looks around. She will find that perfect one for her and then she won't resent you any longer." Hermione said leaning back against him, watching the sun turning the clouds a fiery pink.

"Where and how am I ever going to find that irrevocable and passionate love, all-consuming, all-encompassing?" He sighed deeply, feeling as if the answer to this question was like a missing piece to a puzzle, not something, but someone. Someone who was fated to hold that place but was long lost.

"You just have to meet new people, open up yourself… it will happen. I have faith that it will happen for you Harry, though even that would take work, every relationship does... the stronger the connection the bigger the effort..."

Hope bloomed in his chest. That maybe, just maybe, there was someone like that out there for him.

It would take two years for that hope to die.

And in the third year, when he least expected it, it came strutting down the aisle. Like it owned the place. And it did.

It takes me a little more than twelve hours to screw things up.

I mean you would expect me to be that little watchful, just a little, which would include, analyzing things before they come out of my mouth. But no, if it's not the stupidest mistake that would lead one to lose perhaps the most important thing in one's life, it's not Harry Potter. I mean, it resulted in the death of my parents just because I deigned to born in the week I was born in.

So, I sit in front of the fireplace. Waiting.

Cursed with rewinding the whole thing again in my head, to check if I really screwed up, where I think I screwed up.

Even if it kills me to see that dead smile again on Draco's face every time I ponder back. It is just there and it feels worse now than the times I induced it before.

But, he did not even fight back. I mean, one should fight back even if it is the most impossible ridiculous thing in the world you believe in.

Hermione fought for SPEW. As ridiculous as it was in the beginning. And as much animosity those she was fighting for in the first place showed her. She did not give a dead smile and just change subject because that was the easy way out. How was it the easy way out if it were making you feel dead and hurt inside.

That smile alone does more damage than him being gone for past… I check the clock again,

Three hours and ten minutes.

Oh good! This is the longest gap in my checking of the time.

Only because the last time I looked, I didn't look away for the next five minutes.

He said 'a few hours'. How many does 'a few hours' mean? For me it is somewhere between two and five.

Surely he is not going to be away for five hours.

He has been away for seven years.

And how many times did I check the clock then? Or the calendar?

How many times did I think of him after those first few months?

I still don't think I believe most of his story regarding those missing years.

And now he comes back and suddenly it is as if I am unable to breathe when he is not around.

I wonder for the umpteenth time if I am under some kind of spell.

No, his perfection is not a spell.

His passion that goaded mine was not a spell.

The peace and light on his face could never come from anything less than perfectly perfect which we are every time he is in my arms, our bodies joined.

Just the thought of it sends a longing shiver through my body.

I don't know if it is a chemical reaction of unsatisfactory sex for most of my adult life so far.

Or if it is entirely something else…

All I know is, there is no chance that I will ever find anyone like Draco.

He feels like the missing piece. All I know is before this morning, an oppressive emptiness filled me, which I did not even know of.

And all of that exists between us alongside all the… other things,

Which are,

The fact that I still don't trust everything that comes out of his mouth. I know my intuition never lies. He is hiding, hording secrets. Essential secrets.

The fact that he does not trust me yet with those secret. He definitely isn't giving me much chance to dig them out, or face the ones that involve me too. Because I know some of them do, if what happened last night was any indication.

I do realize that I had been somewhat careless this afternoon, which is where I screwed up. There is not just lover in me that recognizes this mistake but also the Auror.

I have not forgotten his roles in the years of the war. But, I am realizing now that Draco has always been more than knee deep.

No, he is quite a deep pool, and I have no practice at swimming it.

So, I can't afford to be careless with this.

Desires and feelings aside, my intuition, which I have been ignoring in case of Draco, is still blinking dangerous red. Alright, not red, but sort of orange.

There are already dangers looming over the horizon and last night was just a scouting mission.

Draco might think that he has everything under control.

But I will never rely on his intelligence in this matter.

Just like Gryffindors have their abilities and constraints, so do Slytherins.

Gryffindors usually are tactless and come with too much emotion. Unable to unemploy their hearts from situations.

Slytherins tend to calculate too much, and become highly predictable and a lot short-sighted.

They always tend to overlook sentiment in their opponents, sentiment which is always the one thing that can lead anyone to become an unpredictable anomaly. Thus comes the Slytherin's fall. That is exactly why Draco usually failed to catch the snitch. That is why Voldemort was defeated. That is why I remain the sole survivor. I always did carry qualities of both Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Three hours twenty minutes…

And just like that rational thinking and calculating Auror is gone, replaced with worrying and terrified old cupboard under the stairs Harry.

Both of me's realize that what I really really need is… Time!

Time with Draco, time to reacquaint myself with him. Time to understand and discover him again. Time to develop a mutual understanding and trusting relationship. Time to unravel those small quirks and big peeves. Time that everyone normally gets and takes in building a relationship.

Everyone that is NOT Harry Potter.

No, the only time I get is spent, sitting here, staring at the blood mantelpiece clock and worrying.

I have already dispatched my Auror report for last night. I have already reviewed other reports. I have read the scripts of the interrogation of the five people they were able to capture. I have also filed in the report of the Muggle houses being attacked in my neighborhood. Though I have put in as a rather minor incident instigated by street hooligans, than what it actually was. The last thing I want is a detail trailing me.

I have been almost tempted, twice so far to. Especially after the events of last night. The way Ron had looked at me when I told him that Draco was coming home with me. So I Floo-called Ron and Hermione who had just returned from their Lake-picnic they do on this day every year. Ron looked exhausted and Hermione and kids almost asleep on their feet, so it was thankfully short. With a certain look from Hermione in the end which said 'We are going to talk about this Harry… In detail.'

The Lake-picnic is such a unique family ritual Ron and Hermione do every year. Even when it was just the two of them. Hermione, being Hermione would do her research and find a Lake in Britain, which had sun shining on it that particular day, and they would have an all day picnic. I think it became a ritual when Ron proposed Hermione on their very first Lake picnic, while we were helping out with Hogwarts' reconstruction. And they kept up with tradition every single year, and every single year just like the ritual, they would ask me to tag along, which every single year I would refuse. Knowing the significance of the day for the both of them.

That is what I hoped to have in my life one day. That strong a relationship, with its designated days and rituals. But it was something that always felt like a dream, and something I was afraid would remain a dream for the rest of my life, because I felt myself incapable of loving the way my two best friends loved each other.

And all of a sudden, Draco is in my arms, and a few of the things I never thought were going to happen for me, happen in a matter of twelve hours. Is that enough time to feel the way I am feeling about him?

The buzzing questions in my head make me feel a little queasy in the stomach. So I stand unable to sit anymore.

The smell wafting from the kitchen tells me that Winky is preparing a feast. Probably too happy to have Draco around for some reason. I know Kreacher is, he is unable to stop beaming at me like I have done something he is very proud of. It must be to the effect that I have brought back the true deserving heir to the Black home finally. It is sort of endearing and unnerving at the same time.

If only I had not royally screwed the way I did.

Because I know what that dead smile meant. I knew it in my bones the moment I saw it for the first time and I knew it in my soul the last time I saw it. It meant I'd done or said something extremely hurtful to him that has hit him on a deep enough level to shatter him inside. I hate that smile with a passion. And if I can just get a chance to fix it, I would. I would make sure that smile would never grace those wonderful lips and those precious eyes again.

Oh please God, just have him return to me safely. I will fix this sodding fiasco. I will hear him out with absolutely riveted attention even if he is talks about things such as gigliospectres, and agrees with all magical creatures Luna has ever taken name of. I would embrace it all, with a straight face and a solemnly nod and be a testament to its absolute importance. I will.

I don't even know what he has been through in all the years he has been away. I don't even know what kind of life he had to see. I don't know. And the first time he tries to tell me, I laugh at him. I am sure he was extremely serious about… Necromancy.

Masochist that I am, the first thing I did after I realized the screw up, minutes after he left, was running down to the library and putting the memory in the old faithful Pensieve. I know Hermione would disapprove if she knew, but I had to do it, to make sure of it. And make sure I did.

How could I fail to notice the vulnerability in his face and frame as he had started to tell me the story? How could I ignore it after I claimed the place under the duvet so sacred. No judgments, no assumptions… those were my own rules.

And if I was tempted to also preserve the memory of our first love-making session and make a keep-sake of it, well, let us just blame it on the sentimentality that was triggered by the chemical imbalance only wonderful kind of sex can induce, as I am finding now.

That is it! I decide, I have had it.

I make my way to the kitchen fast, finding both Winky and Kreacher at work. I almost snap at them.

"I am going out for a bit, if Draco returns in my absence, one of you must come to find me rightaway."

I don't stop long enough to see their agreements and take myself to the coat room by the main door.

Its drizzling misery as I step out. I grimace at the weather. How the beautiful sunny afternoon turned into this drab evening is fascinating. Wand clenched in hand I disapparate on the top step, just inside the warded apparition spot.

Focusing on sheer instinct and intuition, I apparate finally, to find myself across the street from the Muggle entrance to the Leakey cauldron.

It takes me a few second to recognize the place. It has been a while since I used this entrance to the place. I make it across the street, hunched and cursing at the constant drizzle. I hate the wet smell of smoggy London city center.

I remember the first time I had entered this place. It's a crystal pristine memory in my head. The vividness of it all through my eleven year old fascinated eyes is remarkable. Trepidation, elation and disbelief all mingled into one awestruck feeling, as I was introduced to this magical world for the first time. I had believed it all, in the first glance. I could have been skeptical, derisive of the concept of magic, but I wasn't. As impossible as it was to believe. I had seen it happening and I had believed it. Before that all I thought of as magic was pulling rabbits and pigeons out of a hat and nifty hand tricks that I had seen on TV when I stole looks at it, when no one was paying me attention in the evenings, or that one time there was that silly magic show middle of the school day.

In reality, which was soon my reality, Magic was so much more. Not silly rabbit pulling or making coins disappear. Magic was life-altering, noble art of the extraordinary. In the right hands it was a miracle that could save lives and do extraordinary feats of wonderful consequences, and in the wrong one it was a just a flick of a wrist to kill someone, another flick to torture them to insanity, and a kiss to condemn to a fate worse than death.

Magic was the impossible possibility. So, what was so far-fetched about…Necromancy, after all, is it not the same way muggles disregard the existence of magic even when faced with it, because they can't do it and understand it? That does not mean that it doesn't exist. It does in all its glory. Forever evolving and changing the shape of the world.

So, what if Draco is right? What if Necromancy is not as much of a joke as everyone makes it out to be. What if it was not a joke at all? What if it is not a learned art, but one you are born with. Like Parseltongue.

I had felt the magic that had guarded me last night. It was alien to me. I had never felt magic of its like ever in my life.

'No, that is not right. You have felt it before, entirely too much and too closely. You still have the flesh memory of it every time you go to king's cross. The chill and the rightness of it, the feeling of being spat back out after being devoured. The blackness, the liquidity of that blackness before you opened your eyes to the bright lights of the king's cross and the reality of your choice. The dilemma of your sacrifice. You have felt it before, very intimately. You just want to deny it to avoid facing something that has been staring at you all along. Something that has been looking out at you out of Draco Malfoy's eyes. Something that is the reason you are so drawn to him.'

The Snape-like voice in my mind is right. It reminded me of other things as well, Tenebra… darkness, Draco had called it, of Firenze's still warm body, the solidity and stillness of it, of Cedric's body in my arms; cool and solid and… dead.

It meant me no harm I could tell, and was solely under Draco'c control and sentinel, I could tell that too. But still it had made me panic. And it's been a long time since something regarding magic has made me panic.

It is like there is a splinter like crack in the fabric of my memories itself. Like a crack in the mirror, that does not by any means changes place or part physically, but the deflection of light is never the same on it under that crack. So the reflection is never perfect anymore you either see you face above the crack or below the crack, otherwise the whole symmetry is out of place.

And that is exactly how things are between me and Draco.

There is a crack in this mirror somewhere. And it has taken me all this time to realize that the reflection is out of symmetry.

What if Draco is right?

What if Necromancy exists, in a very real and serious way?

What if Draco…

My thoughts break… as someone addresses me.

"Auror Potter!" I look up to see a familiar face. It takes me a few seconds to put a name to said face.

"Auror Pontner…" I say nodding in acknowledgment. Noting that he looks to be coming out of the place, not going in. I am grateful for it. Merlin knows how long I have been standing in the same spot lost in thoughts.

"Here to see Enforcer Stoltorm and Lord Malfoy are you?"

My senses come to full alert at his words.

Enforcer Stoltorm and Lord Malfoy? Is Draco here with that strange fellow Stoltorm?

An uneasy feeling blooms in the pit of my stomach.

There is just something about that Erik Stoltorm that rubs me the wrong way.

"Uh, yes… I am, are they in there?"

"Yes, been in for a while. Is this about the attack at the Malfoy manor last night?"

"Are you off your rocker Auror Pontner, discussing things such as that on the street?" I snap at him. Irritated beyond measure at this point.

"I-I-I apologize Auror Potter, it was very careless of me."

"Get going now Pontner, and heed this as a warning will you?" I say standing up to my auror best as he shuffles away from me in a quick and intimidated scramble.

Once he turns around the corner. I flick out my wand and cast notice me not charm alongside the usual glamor I use for public places and missions.

Opening the door, I enter into an almost empty Leakey cauldron. Only three or four tables seem to be occupied and a few strangers perched on the barstool. Something tickles just across my magic. Something soft and playful. I have felt it before, I reach out for it with my psyche as I reach towards old Tom at the far side of the bar where he stands chatting with Dickket, his new sweeper.

Equipped with a large butter-beer and evening prophet I make my way slowly towards the private tables towards the back. Curtains to only one are drawn and the feel of the air as I get closer is enough to tell me that a strong privacy ward is in place. It feels impenetrable to my magical sense, but as I press against it very slightly, it gives way for me.

I am wary of this giving way, but the previously tickling magic is back. And it's rubbing against me as if trying to comfort me this time it lets me catch hold of it. I surround it with my magic and I can feel it giggling against my senses, like a child giggles when tickled. Its affectionate and playful and easy to distract like a playful puppy. I slip inside the very next compartment to the one with curtains drawn closed.

It is as if I have entered a bubble. And my heart is beating really fast regarding what I am about to hear.

My mind provides me with a few really unsavory possibilities. Sounds of lips smacking, mouths dislodging, moans, groans? Each possibility worse than previous.

What I hear instead is…

"Nien!" hisses a familiar voice. Sounding irritable and angry. I know the expressions in that voice. It is Draco.

A calmer deeper yet softer voice says something else in a foreign language, By the r's sound it seems German followed by my name.

So I am being discussed.

"I will not be the messenger between you two. I will not have anything to do with Egil, and if he is wise, he will give up on this mad caper, and flee while he can. It is futile for him to think he can have the war he wants if I am not on his side."

"He will never give this up and I will never give him up. You have to make this promise Draco."

"I will make no such promise. He had his slimy dogs burn the building surrounding Harry's house, No matter what he says to you, It is not like he has not lied to you before is it? I can't let him have what he wants. Even if the world burns down around me as I hunt and burn him down. HE WILL NOT HAVE HARRY."

There is a pause for almost half a minute which I imagine is the stare down between the two. And then I hear that eerie chuckle before Erik speaks in a low yet resonating voice.

"Oh you are very capable of winning from him, I know this, but just like you can't have Harry harmed or in peril, neither can I have Egil. Even you could lose if I decide to join him Draco. All I ask is one promise. Your word that you won't kill him. It is the last thing I want Draco, facing you in battle. After all we have done for each other and been to each other, it would be a shame to the name of friendship and love."

"He will not have what he wants, and you and I both know what happens when that happens. Did he not himself try to murder you in cold-blood just because you wanted out of the twisted relationship once upon a time."

"He failed and I was wrong in trying to walk away. There is no walking away from a love like ours. It would have killed us both eventually, but his attempt saved both our lives."

What sort of twisted fucking logic is that? I wonder.

"What sort of twisted fucking logic is that?" Draco hisses, startling me for the word to word repetition of my thoughts just now.

"There is only this twisted kind of logic love has Draco. What sort of twisted fucking logic was behind what you did to save the life of the person who you loved and who absolutely loathed you back? What sort of logic is behind giving up taste and sleep for someone who you can't even tell what you are? What sort of twisted fucking logic is there in these matters Draco?"

"I would do it all over again Erik, I don't care if he knows or doesn't. I did not do it for his love. I did it so that he would live. That was always my goal."

" You Slytherins and your goals… When will you learn that you are cursed dear Silbern? All you Slytherins. Your God-father wanted only his one true love, Your darklord wanted only his immortality and you only want Harry living and breathing. What makes you think you will be able to break the curse? Harry is his own person. You can stop the danger from coming to Harry, but really, do you think you can stop Harry from going to danger?"

"No, I don't suppose I can, he won't be Harry if he is stoppable would he?"

"And Egil won't be Egil if he is does not show his very worst before learning his lesson. So don't fight back Draco, take your Harry and leave. You want him alive, then keep him alive."

The desperation in voice of Erik Stoltorm shows for the first time.

"That is not possible Erik. I am sorry that there is only one possible outcome to this."

"Then I am sorry regarding how un-productive this conversation has been Draco."

There is some shifting and shuffling.

"Can I at least have one kiss before we part for the last time as friends Silbern?"

Something hot pierces my senses at the longing I hear in his voice. What the hell? I have half a mind to show myself and punch him out for even imagining kissing MY DRACO! MINE!

"No, you can't…" Draco says to me relief "…Because no matter how we part now, and a million times after. We will always remain friends Erik. And the bond you and I made is beyond this divide. If ever you call for me in true need, I will heed. That promise stays intact."

I don't stay for more. Shuffling quickly and silently out of my booth, I make my way towards the muggle entrance of the tavern, when it hits me out of nowhere.

Harry Pontner is on leave to visit his sister in Australia. I had personally signed and stamped on Wednesday his application for the leave and also the permission for issuing an auror protocol international port-key to Australia for Friday, the day of the Carnival.

'"Here to see Enforcer Stoltorm and Lord Malfoy are you?" he had asked me. But how did he know that Stoltorm and Draco were there. Even if he had seen them come in, which I am doubtful about. Draco is not that sloppy. It is true that his privacy ward had slipped open for me for some reason. But for a mediocre wizard like Pontner, it would be impossible to break in.

Stupid stupid stupid!

I wanted to kick myself. Pontner was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. And he saw someone who he should not have seen.

But he could have seen them both come in or something.

Well there was only one way to find out.

I turned side to the bar dropping my glamour and notice-me-not charm.

"Oh! Harry Potter sir! I did not see you there! I am sorry, Old age is finally catching up with me it seems."

"It is okay Tom, I was not being noticeable myself. You have nothing to worry about yet, though I do need your help with something."

"Anything! Anything for you dear lad!" says Old Tom, eyes shining with excitement.

"A young Auror, goes by the name of Harry Pontner."

"Aye, I know Young Auror Pontner, and his father and his father's father.."

"Yes! Good! So he was here a little earlier, can you tell me how long he was here for and where he was sitting and if he spoke to someone?"

"Oh! No! It is the strangest thing, he was in a bit of a hurry, so only passed through, stopped by for a pint, which he takes on the bar usually, but not this eve', he sat on that there corner table and drank his butterbeer, and then then no more than ten minutes later he was gone… did not even say good day. He is a good lad I tell you Harry sir, have known him and his family since forever. I hope he isn't in some kind of trouble." Tom looked a little worried all of a sudden.

I nodded and smiled at him reassuringly.

"Of course not. He is working under me these days, so just wanted to know if he was slacking off patrol for long or no…"

"Ah! Can't have any slacking off on Auror Potter's watch now can we? Can I get you a mug of Mathilda's special butterbeer?"

"No, no, it is fine, just one more question for you though…" Tom leaned forward solemnly.

"How long has that last booth been occupied?" I asked trying to keep my voice neutral.

"I gave my word that I would not say who… but since you have not asked that. It has been occupied for past hour or so." I see the curtains flickering a little, taking that as my cue to leave I say a hasty thanks and good bye to Tom and step out of the tavern the same way I came in.

I stand in the back alley for a minute, trying to decide what to do next. After a minute of cool thinking I disapparate to the Ministry Auror HQ.

I barge in to the floo-regulation department, startling the only witch keeping track of emergency floo calls tonight. She hastily hides away the copy of Witch's weekly she was eating a pudding to. But still the flash of Draco's silver hair I am able to catch on the cover.

"Carlotta…" I greet her lightly.

"Auror Potter…" she says a little breathlessly. I know her from Hogwarts, where she was a Hufflepuff and a year under me.

"I need your special assistance this evening Carlotta…"

"S-s-sure Auror-r P-P-Potter"

"I need you to get hold of Audrey Fairborn, nee' Pontner on the floo call. She lives in Toraku, Melbourne and works with Australian Magical creature regulation Department. Tell them it's extremely urgent that I get hold of her."

"S-sir, but it would be early morning in Australia right now…"

"I know, the earlier it is the better. They will take us more seriously. Can you make this happen in next ten minutes Carlotta? I am counting on you!" I know it is a cheap-shot. But if it gets the job done.

"Right Away sir. Piece of cake."

"That's what I like to hear Carlotta, I knew I could count on you. Once you get through to Audrey Fairborn, put the call through to my office floo. Use my name all you want."

The beaming smile and hearts in eyes she gave me made me feel a little bad deep inside. It is like my small, appreciation and encouragement has made her rather dull evening a memorable one. I hate to have that power over people generally. But I guess it comes with the territory.

Carlotta takes seven minutes to get hold of Audrey Fairborn.

Hair a mess and clad in a floral sleeping gown Audrey Fairborn is more or less female version of her brother. She looks a bit worried and annoyed and somewhat nervous at the same time and the green light of the floo adds to her tired looking demeanor

I guess I would be too if I was getting an urgent floo-call at four in the morning.

"Mrs. Fairborn. I am sorry to disturb you at this hour, but it could not be avoided, so please accept my apologies."

"It is alright Auror Potter. Please." Her accent just has the right amount of Australian twist to it.

"Mrs. Fairborn, I needed to ask you if your brother arrived safely in Toraku on Friday past."

Her face twists a little in a confused expression. And that makes my heart sink.

"No, Sir, he arrived Saturday Morning. My husband went and picked him up himself from the Protocol regulation."

I cannot help the breath of relief that leaves my chest. Of course. The time difference.

"Is he still there Mrs. Fairborn?" I ask lightly.

"He is, sleeping in his room upstairs I think. Is everything alright Auror?"

"Yes, everything is fine so far, can you possibly get him to come to the floo?"

"Sure…" she says warily, before getting up and leaving the line of sight. A minute or two pass in eerie silence of the early morning on the other side of the world.

Then the floo fills with the face of worried and nervous Harry Pontner.

"Auror Potter! I am here sir, is everything alright back home?"

I am too glad to see him unharmed and fully healthy. Since the realization had hit me about the imposter, my mind had been buzzing with worse scenario after scenario.

I could not have a dead auror on my hands. Not one from my own department.

"Yes, Harry, Only I just met someone impersonating you at the Leakey Cauldron, and with the recent events that just had me worried. Can you think of anyone who would do such a thing? Or perhaps someone who had access to some of you hair."

More confusion and worries ensue from that point forward. And a few minutes later when the floo-call ends, I am left with two confirmations and nothing else.

Harry Pontner was safe and sound in Australia. In addition to talking to him on the floo in person, I now also had a confirmation of his departure and arrival from the Portkey office, Friday night.

It was an imposter, who I met coming out of the Leakey Cauldron, and he was there because of Draco or Stoltorm. Though his swift leaving suggests that he had failed in his endeavor, whatever it may be.

I finally floo back home. Only to find no Draco yet.

I make my way upstairs for a change of clothes and perhaps another shower. My mind numb with buzzing thoughts.

I remove my pea-coat as I sit on the edge of the bed we shared, sleeping so peacefully in each other's arms not a few hours ago. And now, there is this chasm of uncertainties and unpredictable variables, that is just there, staring at me. And on top of all that, none of the things that happened in between affect the fact that I screwed up. And that Draco doesn't trust me. And that he expects me to understand everything on my own without even being a little skeptical.

It would be okay if he was asking me to take a leap of faith, which he is not, were he asking that of me, things would be much simpler. But he is not asking me, no, he is expecting me to take that leap of faith, without giving me any faith in the first place.

But then again, it was wrong of me to think that things would be simple. Things will never be simple. Not when you are in love with a Slytherin.

There is a prickly feeling in my eyes. I suspect it is tears. And I find that hilarious for some reason as I press the heels of my palms against the traitor eyes and just lean forward, just breathing and wishing for it all to go away, turn back until there is me and him lying in this bed again, sleeping, oblivious to MY shortcomings and just basking in each other's presence. One thing, if only one thing could be simple and straight-forward in my life.

There are soft foot falls on the stairs and I manage to dislodge my palms from my squinting eyes just in time to see the shadow filling the doorway.

He is clad in a muggle jeans and jumper. His hair neatly tied back. Eyes searching and face neutral. In his hands he holds a medium sized muggle duffle-bag.

I stare at the bag for a moment.

"I thought I would bring a change or two of clothes…"

I want to say something perfect and understand and fixing in return, but at that moment Kreacher pops in to announce that Dinner is served.

I glare at the retreating elf. Before I look back at Draco. Standing there, watching me with a strange unsure expression on his face in all his clean and sleek perfection. And the familiar feeling, that overwhelms all other feelings when I am around him rises in my chest. I hate this standing so far from each other like strangers. I want to take the few steps and grab hold of him. And cover his faces with kisses and apologies.

Yet the other part of me resents him at this moment. I make a single mistake and he walks out on me. Instead of talking it out, instead of trying harder to convince me, I am sure if he wanted to could prove the truth to me practically even. But no, he chose to leave. Distance himself. Step back, take time out.

And then there is the whole conversation with Stoltorm that I over-heard. I still don't know how I should be reacting to that?

"You should go on… I will be down in a few minutes, just need to get dressed."

He nods at me solemnly, and steps out without a word.

Even that hurts.

I get up to find clothes and it's when I am facing my open haphazard wardrobe that it occurs to me.

Maybe that is the way he is generally. Draco, all cool and quiet.

I mean what do I know about Draco in his day to day life?

What do I know of his habits? Likes? Dislikes? What kind of music he likes? If he likes any music at all? What does he do in his free time? Read? Write? Fly? Garden? Practice and research Magic? Play the piano? Or just stand in corners and brood?

What do I know of Draco's childhood? His hopes and dreams?

For example, I do see the kind of clothes he wears. Elegant and fashionably conservative in cut, but vibrant and unique in colors wizarding robes. And then there is the muggle clothes he turns up in, high fashion, modern and sophisticated with close attention to detail. But they don't tell me if he is passionate about fashion or is it just plain good breeding. Usually expensive things are tasteful as they are and you can rarely go wrong with them. But that is all I can say about Draco in the matter.

I realize that I know Draco slightly better than I would know a stranger.

And perhaps it is the other way around too.

Well, we'll have to fix that now wouldn't we?

I step into the kitchen to find Draco sitting quietly at the breakfast nook again, his eyes tracing the edge of the porcelain plate before he hands it back to Kreacher, who hands him another slightly square in shape and design.

"It is very impressive Kreacher, you have kept it all preserved very nicely." He says quietly. None of the passion his voice held while having one to one with Stoltorm is present anymore. He looks up from the plate long elegant fingers tracing the edge of it. And I can see his eyes travelling all the way down to my feet from my face.

Though the expression remains unreadable. Catching sight of me, Kreacher quickly shuffles away. I take the same chair that I had in the morning right next to him. I don't think we both need to face each other just yet.

"Draco?" I turn to look at him, and I have no idea what I am about to say to him or why I addressed him.

"Yes?" he answers quick enough to give away more than a little desperation. So he is not so ice perfect as he likes to make other people perceive him as.

He takes an audible deep breath before he finally looks up at me, our shoulders almost touch, silver eyes glitter in the soft but bright light from the lamps. And all confusion and madness seeps out of my body as I inhale deeply savoring his presence next to me. All of a sudden everything feels right where it should be.

"Would you like a tour of the house after dinner? There are a few rooms I would like for you to see…" I smile softly at him as one of his brows goes up sardonically.

And hope blooms in my chest. I am not good to myself by myself at all. All those doubts and anger and guilt, only because he was not looking at me. I hope he learnt the same lesson I have just learnt.

We have a lot of work to do to build this relationship on a solid and relentless foundation of trust and understanding, but it will only be possible if we stay close, as to keep focus on the most important thing of them all.

Togetherness.

He's brought a few changes of clothes; he has made his move as blatantly as possible. I am such a duffer to only realize that now!

I smile at his sardonic characteristic and familiar eye brow raise. He smiles when he sees me smile and it reaches his eyes in the most alive fashion. It is only this genuine smile that can wash away the imprinted memory of the dead one.

"I thought you would never ask..." he leans closer taking hold of my hand, slim deft fingers against stubby rough ones, "… Lord Potter-Black."

Toraku* - Is the fictional wizarding capital of Australia of my own making, a magical city adjacent to Melbourne. Meaning of 'Toraku' is 'a Magician's Hat'.

Author's Plea: Please don't forget to leave comments! They mean a lot to me!:) Please Please Pretty Please!
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The Principle of Sympathy