Harry?

Harry, are you here?

Harry, where are you?

Harry, answer me!

Harry? HARRY?

HARRY!

Draco couldn't tell precisely at what moment he regained consciousness. All he knew is that he drifted in and out of it for a while, as if his subconscious was hesitating on the next course of action. After a long time that could have lasted minutes as well as hours, he finally seemed to be ready to face whatever was awaiting him on the other side.

His eyes fluttered under his eyelids for a couple of seconds before he finally found it in itself to open them.

The room was dark, but not completely so; outside the window, the moonlight was shining bright, reflecting on the tiny burgeoning leaves of the huge sycamore outside. As he turned his head, Draco could make out the shape of the cheap painting on the wall facing him.

He had done it; he had come back. He had made up his mind in the very last seconds of the storm and hadn't known until then if it had really worked.

He was lying in his hospital bed again, as if nothing had happened. He was still wearing his ugly light-blue hospital gown and as he lifted his left arm a little, he easily made out the outline of his well and truly present Dark Mark. He sighed. No need to check for the rest of his wounds and scars, they were no doubt back too. The tension in his body was here as well. He felt bruised and battered all over again.

"Harry," he murmured and he felt his heart beat faster. Where was he? Had he made it back here too? Draco paled as he remembered the discussion with Harry in the Quidditch locker room. When you tried to kill yourself again tonight, maybe it did kill me first.Fuck. Despite his greatest fear of having maybe lost Harry, Draco had to know. Now.

He hastily sat on his bed. Shit, he wasn't as physically well as he had been on the Quidditch pitch and his body - his real body - was still incredibly weak and he got slightly dizzy for a couple of seconds. But he didn't care. He had to go and see Harry, had to know if he had made it, if he was still alive. Draco slowly got up and put on his ugly slippers. He walked slowly to the door of his room.

He refused to believe Harry could not have made it: he rejected the whole idea with all his might. It simply wasn't possible. He needed Harry. He needed to see him, to touch him, to feel him, to taste him again. He needed to talk with him again and to be pressed against his warm body. He needed to let his powerful scent engulf him all. He needed to hear his heartfelt laugh, to drown himself in those amazingly expressive bright green eyes. He needed all of that and then some.

He opened the door of his room. Everything was eerily quiet in the corridor. A small light by the nurses' desk indicated that someone was on duty but there was no one in sight. Draco carefully made his way to Harry's room.

He braced himself before silently opening the door and slipping inside.

Like in Draco's room, the moonlight was very bright. It fell directly on Harry's bed, allowing Draco to make out his features immediately. Harry's face was as peaceful and relaxed as it had been the last time Draco had visited him. He felt an unexpected rush of love for the beautiful man lying there in front of him, rapidly tempered by the thought that there was still the possibility Harry had not made it. Once again, Draco felt fear grip his body as he swiftly came closer to the bed, expecting the worse. He searched for a sign, any sign that would tell him that Harry was still alive.

There was nothing for a few agonising seconds, and then there it was, and there was no mistake about it. It wasn't much, but Draco had felt it anyway: a faint albeit definitely present tingling of magic gradually surrounding him before fading away. Draco felt his heart beat faster as an incredible relief flooded over him.

Harry had made it. He was alive!

Draco sagged down on the nearby chair and ran his fingers through his hair. It had worked. They had made it. He hadn't killed Harry in the end. How incredible it was that after all that had happened, they had both managed to come back! Draco stood up and took a good look at Harry's beautiful face again. Now, if he would only wake up…

On an impulse, he reached for Harry's hand.

As soon as his fingers touched Harry's, he felt the boy's magic at work again, but this time, it wasn't the timid undercurrent of a couple of minutes ago.

Draco was immediately immersed in the same intense whirlwind of magic he had felt the first night when Harry had saved his life in the hospital. It was incredibly powerful and strong and enveloped him all at once, making every single part of his body wonderfully aware of it. It turned around Draco, encircling him over and over again, setting his body alight. He had never felt so good and alive in his whole life. This incredible force surrounded him for a while, making him completely light-headed, before it finally entered him through his toes and rushed through every single part of his body, from his feet to his legs, to his stomach to his arms, hands and fingers to his heart where it paused for a while before heading north to his head. He closed his eyes and let it settle in every inch of his body, soothing him completely before it slowly evaporated.

When Draco opened his eyes again, he was still holding Harry's hand, his touch warm and comforting.

And that's when he realised he wasn't alone anymore.

Harry had opened his eyes.

"Hey," Draco said shyly, smiling as he sat on the side of the bed, caressing Harry's hand gently with his thumb. He felt amazingly relaxed and not quite down from his high yet.

Harry opened his eyes wide and gaped at him, before swiftly removing his hand from Draco's as if he had been burnt. He propped himself on his elbows, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table. Once he had put them on, he looked at Draco in disbelief, the same weird expression on his face.

"Malfoy?"

Draco frowned slightly at Harry's odd reaction but didn't dwell on it. "Yes, Harry. Oh Merlin, I am so, so relieved to see you here, I just- I'm so happy to see you back!" He leaned forward to reach Harry's mouth and closed his eyes, dying to feel the soft lips against his, to drown into Harry's dizzying scent and taste him again.

He never got to meet Harry's lips though. Instead, he felt two hands shoving him back hard, making him stumble before he crumbled back onto the chair.

"What the fuck, Malfoy?" Harry had a horrified expression on his face that hurt Draco more than anything else could have. "What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Draco paled. "What? But I-"

"Were you really trying to kiss me?" Harry said again, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

Oh no.

Reality suddenly dawned on him as he realised Harry had absolutely no memory of what had happened on the Quidditch pitch. He started trembling a little. Shit, how was it possible? Had he been dreaming the whole time, fantasising over his own time in this form of afterlife? Fuck, how embarrassing the whole thing was!

"I- Oh God, I- sorry, Har- er, Potter." He abruptly stood up and the chair fell on the floor with a loud noise that would probably wake the whole floor of the building. Sure enough, he heard rapid steps coming their way. Fuck.

He turned around hastily, his heart still pounding way too fast in his chest, a sick feeling in his gut as he walked out of the room and down the corridor as fast as his legs allowed him.

He went straight for his bed and tried to calm his body as much as he could but he was shaking so hard it was impossible for him to get a coherent thought through his mind for a while.

He tried to close his eyes, but images of Harry kissing him passionately in the changing-rooms were mingled with the look of sheer horror he had sported a few minutes ago when Draco had tried to kiss him again.

Draco knew he should be grateful. After all, Harry was alive and awake, which was what really mattered. But the rejection? Fuck, it hurt. It hurt badly. It hurt because Draco had had a glimpse of something beautiful, something pure and fucking perfect and just as he was starting to allow himself a tiny bit of hope in his otherwise utterly miserable life, it had been snatched from him in the most brutal way.

He should have known, though and he cursed himself for being so naive. How could he have let himself believe for one second that someone like Harry, fuck, Potter could ever fall for someone like him? That someone, anyone really, could enjoy his company, would want to spend time with him and even more kiss him? No one in his own true mind could ever wish to do any of these things with someone like him. What on earth had he been thinking? The more he thought about it, the more the whole Quidditch thing felt like a dream that was well and truly fading away as time passed until it all became a blur.

Draco had been brought back to reality harshly.

Welcome back to fucking real life.

He closed his eyes and tried to get rid of all the feelings that clang to him desperately. He wanted to go back to the beginning, to when Potter and he had not started talking during their sleep like that, had not had deep conversations and intense kissing sessions that had made Draco feel like he mattered. He wanted to go back to when things were simple and all he wished for was to lie there and die.

But it was like he had opened Pandora's Box and it was so hard now for him to erase everything from this achingly needy brain of his. He had had a taste of what could be, or could have been, and it seemed impossible for him to forget about it when everything was so fucking present in every pore of his skin. He absentmindedly started to scratch his left forearm and before soon, he realised the gesture was soothing him somehow. He looked down to see his nails were leaving angry red marks on the symbol of everything that had gone wrong in his life. This Dark Mark had been the beginning of the end for him. Soon, droplets of his own blood found their way out of his skin, and it felt strangely good as he continued scratching the now sensitive skin.

Without this Dark Mark, he would never have been sent to kill Dumbledore.

Without this Dark Mark, he wouldn't have lost his parents.

Without this fucking Dark Mark, he wouldn't have been forced to crucio Rowle under the Dark Lord's orders leading the Death Eater to seek revenge in the most atrocious way a few months after, leaving Draco's body and soul marked forever.

When the skin was finally raw and Draco's blood was pearling and covering several parts of this ugly Mark, Draco turned to the window and closed his eyes, too exhausted to even think of anything anymore.

"What in Salazar's name happened in here? Draco, are you all right?" Cecilia's high-pitched voice tore him from his weirdly dreamless sleep a couple of hours later.

She was by his side by the second and took in the scene. Draco's bedsheets were sprayed with dry blood from his little session earlier on.

Cecilia flicked her wand and murmured a quick, "tergeo", removing all traces of blood on his forearm and bedsheets, allowing her to see the extent of what he had done. For once, she did not taunt him, she just looked in his eyes with something akin to pity that he hated more than anything and murmured, "Oh, Draco, what did you do to yourself?" shaking her head in disbelief. He didn't say anything and kept his eyes on the ceiling as she applied the Dittany on the somewhat superficial wounds on his forearm.

She then stood next to him for a while, as if looking for her words. "You know, you should seek help and talk to someone, you cannot stay like that, Draco."

He could hear her all right, but he didn't care one second about what she was saying. What was the point anyway? He turned his back to her and closed his eyes again. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Oh, and I thought you would want to know that Mr Potter is awake now," she added.

Draco's heart jumped in his chest at the mention of Harry.

"Great. Now could you just leave? I'd like to rest," he replied moodily before closing his eyes again. It wasn't fair to take it on her, he knew it, but he couldn't care less.

He spent the day sleeping on and off. A procession of healers of all kinds came and tried to talk to him but he wouldn't listen to any of them. They tried to feed him again, but like the first few days, he rejected everything. He was surprised nobody mentioned the fact he had tried to kill himself again, but then he realised they had no way of knowing about it: they had left him alive last night and found him alive this morning so they really had no reason to suspect anything after all.

Occasionally, Harry's name was pronounced during the day, the healers commenting on his sudden recovery after several days being unconscious. It made Draco's heart clench every time. It reminded him of the only thing he really wanted now, and couldn't have. He tried hard, very hard not to think about anything that had happened on the Quidditch pitch, but no matter how hard he tried, he failed miserably.

By the time evening had arrived though, the need to see Harry was so intense that Draco gave in.

He needed to see him, he needed to talk to him and to be near him, even if he couldn't get what he wanted back. He made up his mind. He would go and see Harry one last time tonight. After all, he never had the opportunity to thank him properly for saving his life and apologise for what had happened to him. It was the least Draco could do. It wasn't Harry's fault if he couldn't remember what had happened between them. Draco himself wasn't quite so sure it really had anyway. It had felt bloody real, but it might as well just have been a dream.

A goddamn good one.

When the night had fallen and everything was quiet again, he slipped back into Harry's room for the last time. He felt Harry's potent magic at work as soon as he entered the room. Harry was not asleep. The tip of his wand was alight with a lumos and he was holding what looked like a framed picture in his other hand, scrutinising it. Draco realised by glancing at the empty wall that it was the cheap painting from the room. Harry was so focused on it that he did not notice he was in the room.

Draco came closer and cleared his throat to announce his presence. "Har- Potter," he said hesitantly.

Harry jumped and the light on his wand flickered a little. He turned to Draco and once again, Draco felt Harry's magic encircling him, although it was way calmer than the last time, almost peaceful. Harry was looking at him, mesmerised, as if he was seeing him for the very first time. Draco felt slightly uneasy under his sharp gaze but Harry turned to the picture he was holding and then back to him again.

"Draco?" he finally said after a while, his voice sounding almost fragile.

Draco took a deep breath. "Potter, I came to thank you for what you did for me and also apologise for the inconvenience that resulted in you saving my life again. I am glad you are awake and will do my best to stay away from you in the future."

Harry looked at him with an amused grin on his face. "Are you the real Draco Malfoy?"

"What?"

There was a strong sense of déjà-vu in this exchange. Was it a coincidence? Or could it mean- No. Draco fought with all his might against the feeling that wanted so bad to emerge from deep inside him. He couldn't afford to feel hope. Not anymore.

"Why did you kiss me last night?" Harry said softly.

Fuck. "I wasn't kissing you, Potter. What do you think?"

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I was-" Draco desperately tried to find something, anything that could explain his behaviour. "I wanted to check on your pupils," he blurted. What? Was he out of his fucking mind? Checking on his pupils, really? "To see if there was something weird about them," he added hastily. In for a knut and all that.

Harry put the picture on the nearby chair and folded his arms on his chest, a highly amused smile on his face. "Checking on my pupils, Malfoy, really?"

Oh God, how was he supposed to get out of this one? "Of course, that's what healers do all the time!" It was true. Healers were always doing this funny thing, blinding him with their lumos right in his eyes. Although he didn't really know what they were looking for exactly.

"Oh I see. And do healers check on their patients' pupils with their eyes closed as well?"

Draco felt all the blood leaving his face at once. "I- I-"

"Come over here, Malfoy," Harry patted his bed and Draco walked hesitantly to him. "Please sit."

And Draco did, being very careful to keep his hands buried in his lap and avoiding Harry's gaze at all costs.

"Look at me," Harry said and he complied. Harry leaned forward a little and searched his face before suddenly grabbing his collar with both hands, bringing his face dangerously close to his own. Draco gasped and shivered at Harry's proximity.

"What- what are you doing?" he whispered as Harry's face was so close now he could feel his warm breath on him.

"I need to check on your pupils," Harry replied with a smile before closing his eyes and kissing Draco hard on the lips. Draco whimpered and it took him a couple of seconds to realise that yes, this was happening, and enjoin his brain and body to react. It was a slow and lazy kiss at first but then Draco felt Harry's tongue on his lips, and he opened them slightly, and when their tongues touched, he couldn't hold out a moan at the amazing sensation that was finally back.

He broke the kiss and looked up at Harry. "How- Do you- Do you-?"

"I remember everything, Draco," Harry whispered against his lips, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs.

"You do?"

"Yes, every single moment of it."

"But- but, how? Yesterday you-"

"I didn't know. But then at some point today, there were healers running all kinds of tests on me and I was bored, so I took a look at the picture on the wall and it all came back to me at once."

"The picture?"

"Yeah, you know the one-"

"The one you were looking at when I arrived tonight?"

"Yes." And with that, they simultaneously turned to look at the painting still resting on the chair nearby. Draco took it with slightly trembling hands and froze.

It was a watercolour picture of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, decorated in the Slytherin and Gryffindor colours.

The stands were completely empty, except for two tiny figures seating next to one another: one with dark hair, the other with white-blond hair.

Draco looked at the picture for so long that he had almost forgotten where he was and jumped when Harry spoke again.

"Weird, isn't it?"

Weird didn't even begin to cover it. How on earth could the Quidditch pitch of his form of afterlife find itself on a cheap painting of a random hospital room? With what clearly looked like the two of them?

"I- I don't understand, it's-"

"Probably some kind of magic we don't know about. We can ask the nurse tomorrow morning though. Now if we could just forget about that painting for a while…"

Draco nodded and put the framed picture back on the chair next to the bed and Harry brought him closer. He saw the lust mirrored in Harry's eyes and the atmosphere changed at once. They kissed again and this time, there was no hesitation, no innocence to it. Draco cupped Harry's face, holding him in place as he kissed him harder. The little noises coming from Harry's lips set him on fire. God, it felt so good to be in Harry's arms again, to feel him, to taste him, to be so close to him!

Things were rapidly heating up and it unsettled him a little.

Because what he was feeling right now, the heat in his groin as he was unconsciously moving against Harry while they were simply kissing was scaring the shit out of him.

Because he didn't know if he would be able to do something about it.

Because he had never been with anyone before.

And because he didn't quite know how to properly handle emotions, especially emotions related to his body and he felt overwhelmed even though he couldn't bring himself to stop right now and he kept kissing Harry, touching him, feeling him.

But was it right for his body to behave like this? It certainly felt right, Merlin it did, but was it really? And then another thought crossed his mind. What would happen next? What would be the next step?

An irrational fear started gripping him. The fear of having to be naked in front of Harry at some point. Or more specifically, the fear of showing him his damaged body. The fear that Harry would find him ugly and be repulsed by him and would reject him. Especially after what had happened Down There. Because Draco had never been naked with anyone before that and it scared him shitless. Because being naked Down There had meant pain.

It had meant humiliation.

It had meant disgust.

And while Draco had managed to blank his mind most of the time Down There, he didn't know if he would be able to be intimate with someone without being vividly reminded of what he had been through, without acting weird or shutting down or freaking out. He didn't know. And he didn't know if Harry could handle it either. What if Harry was disappointed? What if Harry didn't understand? Was if Harry wanted things that Draco couldn't give him for now? What if-

"Draco?" Harry's voice abruptly brought him back to the present. "Are you all right?"

Draco pulled back and looked at him for a while.

"Draco, talk to me," Harry's deep and calm voice helped release the tension and he relaxed a little.

"Do you- do you want this?" he asked softly, although the question he really wanted to ask was: Do you want me?

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"This, us, do you- are you sure this is what you want?"

Harry propped himself in a sitting position and looked deep into Draco's eyes. "Yes, this is what I want. I want you, Draco Malfoy, I want all of you."

"All of me?" Even the bad and the ugly?

"All of you." Harry brought him closer and made him rest his head on his chest, wrapping him in his arms, while Draco folded his legs on the bed, curling up in a foetal position. He could feel Harry's heartbeat and he felt safe. Harry started threading his fingers in his hair and this simple gesture soothed him further.

"I have scars," Draco murmured after a while.

Harry's fingers stopped for a fraction of a second before resuming their pattern on his head. "I know."

"I have wounds."

"I know."

"And they won't heal soon."

"I know," and they both knew that Draco wasn't only speaking of his physical wounds.

"I'm damaged," he went on.

"I know."

"And yet you're willing to try?" he asked in a breath.

"And yet I'm more than willing to try," and he felt the soft caress of Harry's lips against his forehead and the gesture was so sweet, so gentle, so respectful that it made him shiver.

"What about you? What do you want?" Harry murmured.

Draco sighed. "I- I'm not sure."

"Well, maybe we could try and figure it out together if you want?"

Draco lifted his head and his gaze locked with Harry's. "I want to kiss you."

Harry smiled. "Well, I certainly have no objection to that!"

But Draco didn't smile back and looked down again. He braced himself for what he wanted to say, and he didn't really know how to say it.

"But?" Harry prompted gently, placing a soft kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm not- I'm not sure I want more for now." There. He had said it.

"You mean…"

"Yes."

"Of course, that's perfectly fine. We won't do anything you don't feel like doing, ever. I will never pressure you in any way, you have to know that."

"Even if it takes weeks, or even months before I'm able to-"

"Even that. I don't care, Draco, I want to be with you. We can deal with the rest later on."

Draco swallowed hard. He didn't know what to say. He had expected Harry to say something along those lines, but hearing it made it real and he let out a deep breath of relief. He suddenly felt exhausted again.

"Can I- can I stay with you tonight?" Just holding tight and nothing more? But he knew he didn't have to say it out loud for Harry to understand it.

"Of course, Draco, here." And Harry scooted over to allow him to lie down next to him. Harry then took him in his arms and Draco closed his eyes, feeling incredibly relaxed and content.

"There you are!" Cecilia's voice quickly brought him back to reality, even if it took him a moment to remember where he was and who he was with. "For Merlin's sake, Draco, do you have any idea how worried I have been when I didn't see you in your bed?" But Draco was barely listening to her. He was looking at Harry who was still asleep. Or so he hoped. An immense worry suddenly surfaced as he wondered if he had once again sent Harry into another deep sleep.

Oh dear God no. Please, not that!

But then Harry slowly opened his eyes and looked up at him, ignoring Cecilia completely.

"Morning," he grinned at Draco, kissing him hard on the lips.

"Morning," Draco smiled back.

Cecilia cleared her throat. "I'm sorry to interrupt this highly touching moment, but the Head Healer is on his way to see you, Mr Potter."

"Oh."

"Yep, indeed."

"Er, Cecilia? Would it be possible maybe to give us a little bit of time to, er, arrange ourselves before anybody else comes in?" Draco stepped in.

"You have five minutes," she said sternly as she reached for the doorknob.

"Great, thanks," Draco replied with a smile.

She turned around swiftly and looked at him suspiciously. "Who are you? You're not the real Draco Malfoy, are you? Merlin, if I had known what it took to get a thanks from you, I would have put you in his bed sooner!" And with that, she left the room.

"So," Cecilia said with a little smile as she brought him his soup in his room at noon, "I didn't know Mr Potter and you…"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "This is absolutely none of your business. What kind of a nurse are you anyway?"

"The kind that has to bear with you on a daily basis and looks forward to seeing you go! So any hope I have of this happening anytime soon is bound to raise my interest, if you must know."

Bloody hell, what a mouth she had! But he had to admit he liked it. Not that he would say that out loud.

"About that, do you have any idea when I'm going to be discharged?"

"Well… The Head Healer will come and visit you sometime today, so I'm sure he'll talk to you about that."

"What do you think he'll say?"

"I don't know. You're undeniably much better than when you arrived a few days ago. I mean your body is healing properly so if you stop with the drama and keep eating properly and taking your potions, you should be good to go in a few days. Although I do hope you realise you'll still have to be followed medically and that it won't mean it's all over once you leave here. You'll need more time than that."

"Yeah, I know."

There was a knock and Harry's head appeared through the half-open door.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No, Cecilia was about to go anyway, right Cecilia?"

"I wasn't!"

"That's all right," Harry said, smiling as he made his way in. "We wanted to ask you something anyway."

"We did?" Draco frowned. "Oh, right, the painting," and he instinctively looked at it. He had not even thought about it and he gasped when he realised the previous picture of the mother reading to her child had been replaced by a picture of two young men - a blond and a brunet - lying together in a bed, snogging the daylights out of one another.

"The paint-? Oh yes, that!" Cecilia chuckled. "I take it that you're not actually seeing colourful abstract shapes?"

Draco felt a blush form slightly on his cheeks and at the sight of Harry's similar colouring on his face, Draco deduced it was the same for him. "Er, I'm not. You?"

"The picture I see is far from abstract to me," Harry replied.

Cecilia shook her head. "I don't want to know."

"So, what is it?

"Every room has a painting that has been magically altered by a spell called 'Felicis Memoriam.' It's meant to adapt to the patient's needs and help them recover by showing them their happiest moments." she explained, and Draco was sure he was blushing again. So that's why the painting had changed after what had happened on the Quidditch pitch! "Of course the picture can only be seen by the people involved in the memory. To anybody else's eyes it's a simple painting by Muggle artist Wassily Kandinsky."

Draco felt relieved at that. He had no desire for everybody to see what his happiest memory was.

The new leaves on the huge Sycamore outside had now all emerged and the picture it made in the bright afternoon sun was stunning. Spring was well and truly there and it seemed to wish to celebrate the new chapter in Draco's life.

Harry was sitting on the chair next to him and they were listening to Head Healer Johnson, a stern blond man in his mid-forties. The way Cecilia behaved around him - oddly serious and silent for once - told Draco that the man was probably one not to mess with. Draco focused his attention back on him.

"We believe that by saving you that night and mixing your magic in such a way, Mr Potter has prevented you, Mr Malfoy, from dying, maintaining your life through this newly created bond," Head Healer Johnson explained, and Draco was fascinated by the way his huge moustache was eating half of his face as he was speaking.

"So Granger was right in the end," he said.

Harry smiled at him. "Isn't she always?" and Draco rolled his eyes.

"The thing is, Mr Potter," Head Healer Johnson went on, unruffled, "Saving Mr Malfoy's life had drained you of all vital energy - magic included - which is why you immediately fell deeply asleep."

"So the reason I woke up is because all my energy had been restored?" Harry said again.

"Not exactly, although that is part of the answer." He paused. "We believe that you woke up when Mr Malfoy didn't need your own energy to stay alive anymore."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry frowned.

"When I decided I no longer wanted to die," Draco murmured.

"In other words, yes."

"Oh, I hadn't realised." Draco turned to him and their eyes locked.

Head Healer Johnson cleared his throat, breaking the moment, and they looked at him again. "Any other questions?"

"Yes," Draco started. "Is this kind of bonding usual? Because, well, Harry had already saved my life before and it certainly didn't have the same effects."

"No, it's not. I must admit that I had heard about it, but it is the first time I am to witness it first-hand."

"So why us and why now?"

"You said Mr Potter had already saved your life before?"

"Yes, twice."

"Well, that's the reason. It's already quite rare for someone to save somebody else once so three times is exceptional. No wonder it linked you strongly."

"But the bond is broken now?" Harry asked.

"It is. It only activates in case of extreme, dire emergency."

"So when will we be able to leave?" Draco asked.

"I think Mr Potter will be able to go as early as tomorrow. We have tested him thoroughly and everything is in order." Harry had indeed had to undergo a series of tests to make sure every single hair on the precious Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-World's head was well in place and that no bit was missing. Draco could have spared them the worry, having checked Harry himself the night before.

"What about me?"

"We'll have to wait a few more days for you, Mr Malfoy, although if you keep on eating proper meals and taking your potions, you should be able to go at the beginning of next week."

Draco held back a chuckle as Cecilia was mouthing 'What did I tell you?' behind the man.

"Thank you, Head Healer Johnson."

"You're welcome."

They were both soon released from hospital. Draco thanked Cecilia warmly mainly for bearing with him and taking such great care of him. She retorted very seriously that she wished to never see him ever again, but there was tenderness in her eyes as she said so.

Draco had nowhere to go so Harry invited him over to his house in 12, Grimmauld Place, just for the time for him to settle down, find a place to live and start a new life. He was supposed to stay only briefly at Harry's, but soon days turned into weeks and into months.

In the end, Draco never left.

Harry's announcement that yes, he was gay and yes, he was in a relationship with former Death Eater Draco Malfoy took the Wizarding World by surprise to say the least, and it made the Prophet's headlines for weeks, to Harry's utter annoyance.

Before that, Harry had told Granger and Weasley. The former had been oddly quiet at the news while the latter predictably made his dissatisfaction known rather loudly. Harry and the Weasel were soon shouting at each other, while Granger desperately tried to calm things down.

No one had noticed Draco had retreated to the bedroom, hurt more than he would have guessed by the exchange and scared shitless that Harry would give in to his best friend and throw him out. He was packing the few belongings he had in a small bag when he felt Harry encircle him from behind and hold him close, cradling him in his arms and telling him how ridiculous he was and how he had absolutely no intention to throw him out at all. Draco had pathetically crumbled in Harry's arms at his words and sobbed like a child.

After that, the first few times the two couples had spent time together had been rather tense, but after a while, things started to improve slowly, even if Weasley and he would probably never become the best of friends and were only tolerating each other's presence for Harry's sake.

Draco was finally happy even if he wasn't naive; he knew what he had lived through Down There would haunt him for a long time and that he was still very fragile. Harry was incredibly patient, bearing with him despite his numerous mood swings, his weird reactions when Harry touched him or the fact the tiniest detail would trigger something in him and freak the hell out of him. His nights were punctuated by violent nightmares from Down There but every time, Harry was there to hold him tight and help him through them. Draco sometimes missed their night-time inner conversations but he was glad they had found other ways of communicating. His recovery would take years but he felt rather hopeful and as each day passed, he marvelled at the fact that Harry had miraculously not given up on him.

On the day that marked their first anniversary, Harry surprised him with the most amazing gift he could have asked for. His heart beat faster when he removed the wrapping paper and discovered a beautiful framed picture of the two of them on the Quidditch pitch. Like the painting at the hospital, Harry had it magically altered so that only the two of them could see it. They had agreed right from the beginning never to mention what had happened on the Quidditch pitch to anyone. It was their secret place only they knew about and they liked reminiscing about it. They hung the picture in their bedroom and Draco could spend hours on the bed just looking at it and reliving memories of that blessed time they had spent just the two of them in this form of afterlife.

He didn't know what life had in store for him, but he didn't want to think about that right now. For now, he was just savouring the unpredictable turn his life had taken at the most unexpected moment and place.

Even when you were at your lowest and thought there was no hope left, there could still be light at the end of the tunnel after all.

~ The End. ~