Author's Note: Written as a gift for taradiane for hd_holidays on livejournal in 2010.

When we are dreaming alone it is only a dream. When we are dreaming with others, it is the beginning of reality. - Dom Helder Camara

This was more than just underage, uncontrolled magic. This was more than he had ever worked with before. The child he saw before him knew how to handle her father's stolen wand. There was calculation in her eyes as she methodically pointed at various things – furniture, vases, portraits - and blew them to smithereens.

"Madeline, no!" her terrified mother moaned. "Please, no!"

Madeline, her small round face cracking into an evil grin, pointed the wand at the living room wall and blew a hole the size of a cannonball right in the middle with a shuddering explosion.

Draco looked at his partner. This was worse than they had ever encountered. Potter looked completely bewildered – not a good sign. He was always good with children. That was what they did, after all. They helped them. Potter calmed them, spoke to them, while Draco looked into their minds and put blocks on excess magic until they learned how to control it. But this little girl was doing more than uncontrolled magic.

"You're supposed to be doing something!" the father roared. "So do something!"

"Madeline," Potter said calmly. Madeline pointed the wand at him and in answer sent a jet of red light right between Potter's eyes. It was easily deflected, but the intent was more startling than the actual attack. Why would a child, a five year old child, want to harm anything?

"Potter, I don't think your calming techniques will do any good just now," Draco said. Madeline then blew out the glass in the windows – all at once.

"I don't know what to do," Potter replied urgently. "I don't think she's acting under her own free will!"

"You think?" Draco said sarcastically.

"What could have gotten into her?" Potter asked, deflecting another magical attack as Madeline started to giggle. It was the most horrific noise that Draco had ever heard out of the mouth of a child. "If she's possessed by something, we need to expel it before it hurts her."

"I don't think it wants to hurt her," Draco replied. "I think it wants to use her to hurt others."

"Either way, we need to get rid of it!"

Madeline made a slashing motion with the wand and a great tear appeared in the wall, ripping through the wood.

"Well come on then," Draco said. Exorcis: He'd witnessed it before when a mad ghost took over the body of a Muggle a few years ago. They had to draw the spirit out with magic. It was not an easy process and the poor man had been sicker than a groom after a bachelor party. "Hold her still, I'll draw it out."

A sofa exploded, sending pieces of stuffing and wood in all directions. Draco threw himself to the floor just as a nail sliced through the air where his head had been.

"You want me to try to hold onto her?" Potter demanded. "How the hell am I supposed to get close to her?"

Draco looked across the floor at him and frowned. The parents, sobbing uncontrollably, crawled out of the room for better shelter.

"I don't care how you do it, but do it fast before she blows up the house! You're the bloody Gryffindor, just rush her!"

Potter gave him a dirty look, but Draco didn't much care. They had a job to do. Potter leapt to his feet and launched himself across the room to the small girl. She shrieked and drew back her wand to curse him, but he was faster. Draco came up to his knees, prepared to perform the spell, but then something odd happened.

As soon as Potter touched the bare skin of the child's hands, they both went limp, falling to the floor.

"Potter!" Draco's cry was oddly loud in the suddenly silent room. He hurried over to both fallen forms in a panic, reaching them just as they both started to stir.

Madeline made a noise, like a kitten waking from a nightmare. Potter sat up, his face scrunched slightly.

"Madeline?" he said kindly, raising a hand to his head.

"Mummy," the girl said, her high voice shaking with tears. "Mummy!"

The mother came barreling in and practically flattened Draco to get to her daughter. He and Potter watched the tearful family reunion in bemusement.

"That's it?" Draco said.

"Ah… apparently?" Potter replied. Draco heard something in his voice, something not quite right.

"You alright?" he asked, looking sideways at his partner. Potter's already-mussed hair was standing in all directions and his eyes were a little distant.

"Headache," Potter replied. "Mother of all headaches. So it looks as if we're done here, eh?"

"I'm not sure exactly what we did," Draco said. "Or rather, what you did."

"Me either, but it looks like everything's fine now."

Madeline was squashed between her two parent's embraces and crying. Actually, they were all crying. The wand she'd used for her destruction of the house was lying feet away, totally forgotten. Later, after leaving a card in case Madeline started acting strangely again and accepting many heartfelt thanks from the girl's tired parents, Draco and Potter stopped outside the house in the pretty little neighborhood. From the outside, it looked just like the rest – a quaint cottage with cheerful Christmas decorations all over the front door and windows.

"Truly an odd case," Draco murmured, turning to face Potter.

"Yeah," Potter said. He still looked pained.

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, I'll just head home and take a potion. Get to bed. See you in the morning for the briefing."

"What, exactly, should we say? We didn't really do anything."

"I don't know. You're the brain."

"Oh, thanks ever so much."

Potter smiled, winced, and said good-night. He spun on his heel and vanished with a sharp crack.

Malfoy –

Your partner, Potter, has been sent to St. Mungo's. He appears to be in some sort of coma. He's in a restricted ward so that the general public won't get wind of his situation. Our briefing about last night's case is cancelled until further notice. We'll reschedule at some future date, when both you and Potter can be there. I firmly believe he'll be awake soon. Feel free to take the day off and visit him and learn what you can from the Healers. I'll want to be kept updated.

Sincerely,

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Head of the Magical Law Enforcement

Draco Malfoy had been in love with Harry Potter since the beginning. Of course, back in school and only eleven years old, it was easy for a young boy to mistake love for loathing. Strong emotions were never easy to pin down. When he was twelve those strong emotions turned to hormones, but he figured at that age you could get hard over anything. Getting hard over the thought of Potter wasn't that big of a deal. He got hard thinking of broccoli. It wasn't until he was sixteen that he realized that his loathing was really love in disguise. And then he was truly fucked. There was no way he could have any sort of chance with the Savior of the Wizarding World, especially when he was on the opposite side, however reluctantly that may be.

Then the war was over. He had to jump through numerous hoops to get his name cleared, but he was a free man. Then he was an Auror. And then he ended up Potter's partner. Any sort of hope he had, however, died when Ginevra Weasley repeatedly came in, day after day, to share her lunch with Potter. They were so cute it made Draco rather nauseas.

At the start Draco and Potter bickered constantly. Anything and everything, they snapped at each other about it. Soon their animosity turned to admiration for each other's work, but it felt wrong not to bicker at least a little. Potter would snap at him, Draco would snark back. It became routine. Now their working relationship consisted of working cases together, working closely together, respecting each other, and still bickering like an old married couple. It was the best time of Draco's life, even if he had to watch the man he loved eat and flirt with a woman every day. At least he got to see him smile, to live. In school he'd always looked haunted.

And now he looked dead.

Had Draco not seen the monitor above Potter's head with the little line that showed a heart rate, accompanied by a soft beep, Draco would have been sure his partner was gone. He was pale, his mouth was slack, and he didn't move. The only movement was the almost too-slow inhalations through his nose.

"Ron found him," said the tearful voice of Hermione Granger. "Thought he was just having a lie-in. I've never seen Ron so panicked as when he Floo-called me and told me Harry wouldn't wake up."

Draco nodded, feeling hollow and never looking away from Potter's face. His mouth was slightly open. Weasley was in a chair next to the hospital bed, looking lost and confused – his usual expression. Severus Snape, who had always been intimidating, had only gotten more so after a stray Cutting Hex in the final battle ripped up the left side of his face and ruined his eye. He was standing in a corner, having yet to say a word since Draco had arrived moments before. The eye-patch oddly suited his face. Now he looked even more forbidding. Draco was almost glad the man didn't teach Potions anymore. If he'd walked into that face his first year, he probably would have walked right back out again. Snape's attendance set Draco's teeth on edge. He only ever graced the world with his presence as a last resort.

"We called for help," Granger continued. "In the end it was decided to bring him here, in case there was something wrong medically with him that we just couldn't identify. But they can't find anything. He's perfectly fine, physically. So I tried Legilimens, to possibly get into his mind and tell him he needed to wake up, but there was a wall."

Draco pulled his eyes away from Potter to look at Granger. He frowned. "What?"

She gave him a helpless look and nodded. "Literally, a wall. It looks like it extends in every direction and he won't let me in."

"He's Occluding?"

"Forcefully." Draco, Granger, and Weasley all turned and looked at Snape. He shrugged. "Granger contacted me. I had a look. He seems to have finally learned to control his thoughts. Unfortunately, I believe that he's done it so… vigorously that he's completely shut himself down in order to protect his mind."

"From what?" Draco asked.

"I have no idea. But obviously he senses a threat and has acted. I cannot reach his thoughts at all."

"You?" Draco said, torn between amusement at Snape's irritation and bafflement. If the most powerful Legilimens alive couldn't reach Potter… what could they do? "There are absolutely no holes, no cracks in the wall?"

"None. And if I cannot find them, they do not exist. Potter's done a bang-up job, as per usual."

Draco's lips curved but he wasn't amused. If there was no way to wake Potter, then he was basically in a coma. There was nothing to be done. But he wasn't in a coma. He was asleep.

"There has to be a way to wake him up," he said finally. "There has to. He's sleeping."

"I've shaken him," Weasley said hopelessly. "I've smacked him, I've thrown water on him, I've performed Stinging, Pinching, and Giggling hexes. Nothing seems to affect him."

Baffled, angry, and unaccountably nervous, Draco began to pace. Rubbing the spot between his eyes, he tried to calm himself. There was an answer. Somewhere. He had two of the brightest minds in the Wizarding World on his side. Between them, and his own talents with the minds of others (even if they were children), he was positive they'd find an answer. But first, he had to know what he was up against.

"I'm going to have a look as well," he said finally. "I want an idea of what we're trying to overcome."

Granger nodded and stepped out of his way. She looked so… sad. As though she was lost. Acting on impulse Draco touched her shoulder.

"We'll figure it out," he said softly. Her eyes warmed. She'd been the first, before even Potter, to be accepting of him when he and Potter had been forced together as Aurors. Granger, working as a secretary for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was always about and treated him like a friend. Merlin knew he hadn't deserved it, after the way he'd treated her in school. But Granger was one of those inherently nice people. No one would accuse Draco of being the same.

He approached Potter's side and withdrew his wand. He focused his thoughts and prepared himself for a vision of Potter's mind.

But he did not see a vision. One moment he was standing in a private room in St. Mungo's, and the next he was in a desert, standing before a never-ending wall of grey stone.

Draco had used Legilimency multiple times in his career. It was a handy spell. So with his job, he knew what Legilimency usually looked like. Never before had he been drawn into another person's mind. It felt, physically, as if he had been transported. And now he was standing on the brink of Potter's mind, facing a huge wall.

Snape was right. There were no holes. No cracks. The foundation was strong. As far as Draco could tell, there was no visual way of getting through. He was more confused than he cared to admit. How had he gotten there? How did he get out? Very valid concerns. He'd rather not spend a great deal of time wandering the deserted recesses of Potter's subconscious.

He was startled into crying out when Granger suddenly appeared at his side.

"Granger!" he gasped. "How did you get here? How did I get here?"

She ignored him and approached the wall, touching it with a focused look. "See?" she said. "It's very solid and I can't figure out how to get in."

"I think that's the point, Granger."

She gave him an arch look, still touching the wall. He approached and gingerly touched the grey stone. It was rough, like the stones of Hogwarts. It had the same aged look but even up close, there were no cracks.

"How did he do this?" Draco wondered. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Nor I," Granger replied. Obviously frustrated, she smacked the wall and then shoved herself away. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to calm down when suddenly the wall, where his hand still rested, wavered.

Ignoring the urge to snatch his hand back, Draco focused on where his hand met stone. But it suddenly didn't feel like stone any longer. It had the consistency of the beanbag chair that Potter had set in the corner of their cubicle. It gave slightly under his hand as he pushed gently.

"Granger, look at this," he said. She came to his side and then gasped.

"It's shifting!" she exclaimed. "It's moving for you… but not for me." Sure enough, the wall, when she touched it, remained hard. "Why?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly.

Her face suddenly became harsh. "Fine. Just try to get in, will you? Maybe I can follow."

There was an odd glint to her eyes that he'd never seen before but before he had a chance to really look, the wall suddenly gave way completely and he fell through. It felt almost like getting onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He didn't have time to steady himself and so landed on his side on the ground. The spongy, soft ground. Bewildered, he looked around.

And found himself on the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch.

Draco drew in a shaky breath. The air was cold and crisp in his lungs. The sky was a bright, brilliant blue without a cloud to be seen. The stands were empty apart from a handful of people milling about, chattering to their friends. The Gryffindor house Quidditch team were all up on their brooms. It looked like practice. A wave of nostalgia kicked in and Draco briefly wished he could go back to this time, when life was no more complicated than getting to his next class.

There was a soft thump to his right and he looked over. His jaw dropped. There was Potter, all right. He couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen. It was before his growth spurt. Short, skinny, and pale, Potter marched up to him with pure animosity in his eyes.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Potter demanded. "It's our time on the pitch."

"What?" Draco replied. "Potter, it's me. You let me in."

"I did not!" Potter cried out indignantly. "Why would I let you into our practice? Get out, Malfoy, or else."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, Or else what? Funny how just the smallest nudge could bring back childish animosity. Seeing Potter like this, like a teen in his old school uniform, brought back even more memories of fights, insults. And other things he refused to think on. But there were more important matters. Potter, it seems, had shielded himself so forcefully that he actually believed he was a teenager at Hogwarts again. Draco bit back impatience. He would simply have to push Potter into remembering his life.

"Potter, you're dreaming," Draco said quickly, taking a step forward. He was met with the end of Potter's wand. There was a look in Potter's eye that Draco recognized from school. It was the look that meant Potter really, really wanted to hex him. "This is a dream."

"What are you on about?" Potter demanded. Weasley landed right next to Potter and dismounted his broom. Clueing into the scene, he pulled out his wand as well. Perfect, Draco thought in irritation.

"Potter, this isn't real," Draco said calmly. "This is a dream-state. One you created to protect yourself."

"You're barking," Potter said with a sneer. "Absolutely mad."

Draco groaned in frustration and dropped his head, whereupon he saw his clothes. He wasn't dressed in school uniform, Quidditch robes or otherwise. He was in his normal robes. Grey and black. He looked at his hands. There, on his right hand, was a scar he'd received when, on a case a few years ago, an angry six year-old had made a vase explode and a piece of glass had cut his palm. Heart rate picking up, he looked at Potter with a grin.

"Potter, how old do I look?" he asked.

"What?"

"How old would you say I look?"

"You're our age," he said, but his eyes suddenly looked confused. "No, that's not right, is it? You're… Hold on. You're older. You can't be. What is going on?"

"I told you, you're in a dream state," Draco said. "A mental projection. You need to wake up so that we can go back to work."

"Work?" Potter said in shock. "We work together?"

"Yeah," Draco said, his frustration rising once more. "We're partners, remember?"

"What?" This time it was Weasley who spoke. "What did you say? Partners in what?"

"Auror partners," Draco said through gritted teeth. "Come on, Potter, you need to focus. Remember. Then wake up, I want to go home."

"How the bloody hell did we end up as partners?" Potter asked incredulously.

Draco was baffled. This shouldn't be this hard. They were in Potter's subconscious. All the memories should be here. Why would he have reverted so far? Why would he refuse to remember?

"Okay," Draco said, running a hand through his hair. "We both became Aurors-"

"What about me?" Weasley demanded.

"No, you went off to do something else," Draco said sharply. "I still am not quite sure just what it is you do. Now shut up a second."

Weasley bristled but Potter looked intrigued. Not trusting, but interested.

"There was a case involving a bunch of kids," Draco continued, looking only at Potter. That face, that young, earnest face. So many memories tied to that face. "At the time, we weren't partners. Aurors usually don't have partners. We both showed up, thinking it was a drug ring and that back-up would be needed to take all the targets out with a minimum of fuss. But it wasn't drugs they were selling. It was kids."

"What, like to people who wanted kids but couldn't have any?" Potter asked.

"No," Draco said with a sad shake of his head. He really didn't want to have to think about it, to remember those children locked in a basement with no light or food. "No, Potter. As slaves. Sex slaves to perverts."

Potter gasped and turned away. Then something strange happened. The pitch, the people, even Weasley began to blur slightly. Encouraged, Draco continued.

"We were the only ones on scene, no one else had gotten there yet. We secured most of the offenders, but some got away. We got them later. But the kids, Potter. You… I don't know how you do it, but they trust you. They like you. You got them to tell you what happened. But there were some who were so traumatized that I had to suppress certain memories." Draco cringed, remembering what he had seen in their minds. "They were a danger to themselves and others, so I helped them. And you, you just knew how to handle them. How to treat them. Shacklebolt saw how well we worked together and paired us up."

"But I want to catch Dark wizards, that's my dream," Potter said, looking a little sick. "I don't want… I don't think I could interact with perverts or pedophiles."

"Potter," Draco said calmly. "Not all Dark wizards do Dark magic. What we do, what you do, I think, is more important."

The pitch melted further. All the people vanished. Now they were surrounded more by splotches of color than an actual environment.

"We also catch Dark wizards," Draco continued. "We do a bit of everything, but kids, underage magic or trauma victims, we specialize in that."

"So…" Potter trailed off, but turned back to look at Draco. He didn't look as young anymore. Now he appeared about twenty. He'd shot up about eight inches and he was wearing Auror robes. He looked exactly like he had that first night they worked together. "I remember. I was in awe of what you could do. Now anytime there's a case involving kids, we're the first ones called."

"Exactly," Draco said, relieved.

"Don't listen to him!"

He and Potter turned to see Granger running up. Her eyes were frantic. "Harry, don't listen to a word he says!"

"What, why?" Potter asked. "I remember, I know he's telling the truth!"

"No!" Granger yelled. "You're safe here, in Hogwarts. Why should you listen to that ferret, anyway? He's the son of a Death Eater! He could be planting these thoughts into your brain!"

Fucking Granger, Draco thought angrily and their surroundings began to sharpen to look like the pitch once more. Potter was regressing, becoming younger as his mind immediately began to trust his projection of Granger. Always like that in school, always mouthing off. He looked over at her furiously but stopped. She was wearing her secretary's uniform. She was not a teen, but a full-grown woman.

Why would Granger, the Granger he knew, want Potter to stay asleep? And why would she do it like this? Trying to pit Potter against him? The answer was simple. She wouldn't. Then who was this? A projection of Potter's mind? Or something else? Draco heart stuttered. What if this was what had caused Potter to shut him down? What if this was an attacker?

"Potter, don't trust her," Draco said quickly.

"Why?" Potter demanded, lifting his wand against Draco once more.

"That's right," Granger said gleefully. "Throw him out."

Throw him out? She knew were in a dream. She wanted Potter to get rid of him, throw him out of Potter's mind. And for Potter to stay asleep.

"Potter, I think she's the reason you've shut down your mind."

"Why would I do that? I'm your best friend, Harry!"

"Think about what I just told you!"

"No, think about where you are! You're in Hogwarts, the safest place in the world! Get rid of him!"

"Potter, look at her!" Draco cried. "She's a woman, not a teen! She's not your friend! Wouldn't she be a teenager, like you, if this place was real?" Potter kept looking between them, his head moving back and forth and his eyes baffled. "Potter," Draco said entreatingly. "Remember Joshua O'Malley."

Potter's eyes dropped and he gasped. "Josh… he was one of those kids. He was the first to trust me."

"He called you Uncle Harry," Draco said softly. "He still does. You get owls from him all the time and visit him at his new home with his foster parents, though you think I don't know. He's the reason you kept helping kids, the reason you agreed to be my partner. You couldn't stand the thought that more kids could be like that, abused and tortured."

Potter looked at Granger, who made a face like she had just sucked a lemon. Potter seemed to have made a decision because suddenly he was no longer a teen. He was a man, the man Draco knew. But he looked scared and confused. The image of the pitch wavered again.

"Where are we?" Potter asked. "What's happening?"

"You're dreaming, Potter," Draco said, coming up to his side and grasping his arm. "You need to wake up."

"NO!" The projection of Granger screamed. "No, you're not dreaming! This is real! Stay here, where you are!"

"No, Potter, you need to wake up!" Draco said. "She's lying, she wants something from you and wants you asleep to attain it!"

"You fool," she hissed. "You pathetic fool! I've had enough!"

Draco only had a moment to react. Granger let out an unholy screech and aimed her wand. Without conscious thought, Draco yanked on Potter. He shoved away the melting vision of Potter's mind and hastily created his own. He felt like he was falling, yet flying at the same time. Potter wrapped his arm around Draco's middle and held on for dear life as millions of images and sounds rushed by them. Thinking of a place, a safe place, Draco focused.

And found them, wrapped around each other, in his mother's parlor.

They were both still for a moment before Draco shoved Potter off and began checking the windows and doors, making sure the room was secure. His chest still had heat from Potter's body imprinted on it. Draco strode around the room, easily maneuvering between dainty pieces of furniture.

"What's going on?" Potter suddenly croaked. Draco looked over. The man was a mess. His hair was in complete disarray and he looked like he'd just been hit by a Bludger. "Where are we?"

"We're in my subconscious now, Potter," Draco said, continuing to fortify the walls with his mind. "I had to take you out of yours, because there was a threat."

"Subconscious?" Potter repeated, looking bewildered. "We're… this isn't real?"

"It's as real as any thought can be," Draco replied, satisfied with his walls. They were protected, for the time being. "Do you remember what happened, before I came to find you?"

"Merlin," Potter said, lowering himself to a settee. His huge frame looked ridiculous in such a little piece of furniture. The fact that it was white and covered in baby roses only made the image more absurd. Draco had to bite the corner of his lip to stop from smiling. Potter looked purposely away and toward one of the windows. "So we're in… thoughts? Like a Pensieve?"

"Yes and no," Draco replied, staring out the window. He could see the gardens, though it was raining. Just like the last time he'd been in his parents' house, for tea. That had been, what? Two months ago? "Yes, these are thoughts. We are generating them. You created Hogwarts, I've created my…. A room."

"Hogwarts," Potter repeated. "That's right. I went to Hogwarts because it was safe."

Draco snapped his head around and narrowed his eyes. "Safe from what?"

Potter, eyes unfocused, slid a hand through his hair which caused even more disarray. He looked like he'd been struck by lightning. "After that case with the little girl, I had a bitch of a headache. I went home, took some pain potion and dreamless sleep. When I realized I was dreaming I knew something was wrong. Then… I felt…"

He stopped. His face became even paler and he grimaced. Draco almost stepped forward to offer some sort of comfort but refrained.

"Potter, you need to tell me what happened," Draco said calmly. "This is, after all, my area of expertise."

"Right." Potter looked mildly comforted by that. Draco squashed the pleased feeling in his chest. "Well it felt… first you need to know about… things… Merlin. I hate this. Talking about this."

"Talking about what?"

"Voldemort."

Draco didn't flinch but it was close. This is not where he'd expected the conversation to go. His own memories of Voldemort were enough to make him wish he'd envisioned a bottle of brandy into the room.

"What about him?" he said instead.

"There was a connection between us," Potter said, looking at the floor. Draco had the distinct impression that Potter was refusing to look at him. "When he tried to kill me as a baby, and the spell backfired, a part of him was put into me apparently." Draco hid his revulsion. Personal feelings were not important right now, even though his stomach rolled slightly. "That's why I could talk to snakes and such. But during my fifth year, he used that connection to make me do something stupid. I endangered a lot of people for nothing. But he knew about the connection, could feel me through it, just as I could feel him. Sometimes he'd be furious, and sometimes insanely happy. So in my dream, the other night when I shouldn't have been dreaming, it felt a lot like that. That weird… connection that I had with Voldemort. When I realized that somehow the dream, that presence, felt so hostile that I tried to Occlude. After that, I'm not sure."

Draco digested the information before he spoke. "So… you created, unconsciously, an entire realm of Hogwarts."

"Ah, yeah," Potter said with a shrug.

A laugh escaped before Draco could help it. Potter looked up, confused. "Once again, Potter, you do insane bits of magic without even knowing it. What is it with you?"

Potter frowned, looking torn between bafflement and anger. "What do you mean?"

"Some of the hardest magic to perform, and you do it without breaking a sweat. Completely on accident. And yet a simple cleaning charm on our cubicle is beyond your grasp."

"Hey," Potter snapped, getting to his feet. "I can do cleaning charms, thank you very much. But every time I do, I don't know where everything puts itself away. And it looks more… I dunno, elegant, I guess, when you do it."

Draco growled slightly and began to pace again. "It doesn't matter," he said finally. But he would definitely have a conversation with Potter, once they'd awakened, about divvying up the chores. "You, inexplicably, created Hogwarts. Because to you, it was your safest memory. Nothing could touch you there. Unless you and your insane friends went to find it."

"Hey-"

"And then," Draco continued, ignoring Potter's furious scowling. "You made yourself young. No doubt a time for you when you didn't know what your future held. And you completely blocked everyone, even Granger. But you let me in. Why?"

Potter's scowl vanished and once again he appeared to look everywhere – except Draco. "I don't know."

"Liar," Draco replied evenly. "Why did you let me in?"

Before Potter could say anything, the room shook as though it had been hit with something. Draco, having focused more on their conversation in the previous minutes, had slipped in his reinforcement of the walls against attacks. He could feel something, a vile presence, battering against his mind.

"Potter!" he yelled. Potter had his wand out and was looking around the room in perplexity. "Potter, take us somewhere else! Somewhere else safe, but not Hogwarts!"

Draco flinched as a particularly sharp jab into one of the walls resounded in his mind.

"I don't understand!" Potter cried.

Some of the furniture started to tumbled sideways as Draco's focus began to fracture. Vases exploded as they fell to the floor.

"Potter, I can't explain it now, just Occlude!"

He was trying. Draco could see it in his eyes. But he didn't understand, couldn't grasp consciously what his mind did on its own the first time. One of the pretty pale yellow walls of his mother's sitting room began to crack. Huge rips appeared through the plaster. Draco tried to see them repairing themselves, to see the lines go smooth, but he couldn't concentrate. He was too worried about Potter, Potter's mind. Could it handle this?

"Draco!" Potter screamed. The wall exploded.

There was no more time. Giving up on salvaging this room and making it safe, knowing that Potter couldn't create something else, he turned away from the explosion, grabbed Potter's arm, and pulled them away. He blew apart the rest of the room on his own, knowing that they could be grabbed, their minds invaded by the attacker at any moment. He focused, pulled Potter closer and constructed walls around them. He could feel that presence, that putrid manifestation around them but shut it out, purposely pushing it away and creating another room, another place. He could also, surprisingly, feel Potter pushing it away. Their joint offensive move thrust away their attacker while Draco completed their new momentary safe haven.

A small café in the heart of London.

There was nonsensical chatter around them from the other patrons of the café. People walked by the window next to the table where they were seating. Potter looked shell-shocked.

"Where are we now?" he asked shakily.

"A café, now shut up and listen," Draco said lowly, part of his brain trained on the protection of the dream and the other on instructions. "To create a dream, you must visualize. Focus. Think of where you want to go. In normal dreams you are always in control. Nightmares happen when you lose focus, when you let the dream take you wherever your mind wanders. You must remember, Potter, that you are in control."

"I can create anything?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Even something Dr. Seuss would appreciate?" he said, his mouth quirked.

Draco frowned. "Dr. what?"

Potter shook his head. "Never mind."

"For now," Draco continued, "just think of something you're comfortable with."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Potter!" Draco snapped. "I can't hold your hand through this! I'm tired and my mind hurts from having to save our collective arses, so just think of something and try!"

"Fine!" Potter spat. He gave Draco one last glare before closing his eyes.

Draco, still mentally protecting them from any sort of attack even though he felt nothing so far, watched the play of emotions on Potter's face. Potter was terrible at hiding his feelings, his thoughts. For instance now there was total focus with a hint of petulance. Of course, nothing was happening. Draco reached across the table with his left hand and held onto Potter's wrist. Green eyes snapped open in surprise.

"It might help you take both of us if we're touching," Draco said nonchalantly. Potter blinked, nodded, and shut his eyes again.

His skin was warm. Almost feverish. Draco had never willingly touched Potter before. He'd grabbed him to maneuver him about, or had smacked his head a few times. But this was… oddly intimate. Draco shifted in his chair.

"Could you keep still?" Potter said, not opening his eyes. "I'm trying to focus."

Nothing stopping you, Draco thought sullenly. He almost shifted again, just to be annoying, when he felt it. There was a … tug on the projection he'd created. A tug, then prod. He was positive it wasn't Potter. Then it was gone. He was still debating whether he should say something when he felt a flash of fire in the Dark Mark that still had a place on his left forearm.

He gasped in pain, wrenching his hand back.

"What?" Potter demanded, reaching for his wand once more. "What happened?"

Draco's jaw was slack with shock. How could it be? How… Voldemort was dead! Draco couldn't be called, not now!

"Draco, everything's going fuzzy!" Potter cried. "What's happening!"

"I have to go," Draco said vaguely. He sensed he needed to go to a clearing, a field… He'd leave Potter, of course…

"Go?" Potter asked. "Go where?"

"He's calling," Draco murmured. His mind was in a complete fog. Dimly he registered that the café had melted away. "The Mark… it's burning."

"Draco, no!" Potter yelled. "Draco, focus! Focus on me, on anything! It's not real!"

"Whatever, Potter," he said vaguely. He gathered himself, preparing to Apparate, when Potter launched himself over and grabbed his arm, the one that was burning more insistently the longer he put off meeting his master.

His café shattered. The tables, the windows, the people. All of it. Draco watched in total detachment, his mind suddenly calm, almost foggy. He had no thoughts, no worries. He felt Potter's grasp on his consciousness and felt totally safe. The shards of his vision melted away.

And then he was in a restaurant.

The burning was gone, the fog lifted. He looked around in dismay. Potter had taken them back to his mind, but the image was flawed. Everything was fuzzy, indistinct.

"What did you do, Potter?" he asked.

"I had to act fast," Potter replied. "Whatever it is, it attacked you this time. I felt nothing but suddenly the café was gone and you… you were going to leave."

"That's all fine and good Potter, but this is not right," Draco replied. Potter looked offended. "It's too similar to the café, and it's not clear. You're not focusing hard enough. It's not strong enough to protect us."

Potter snarled, actually snarled, and began to pace. "This isn't my thing, Draco! I'm trying as bloody hard as I can!"

"Well try harder!" Draco said sharply. "This isn't a game. This is real. Our minds, our lives, are at stake. Now think of something, something non-magical because this is obviously a magical attack."

"Non-magical? Why?"

"I think it would have a harder time understanding, and therefore finding, a non-magical environment. It knows you Potter, that's why it keeps finding us."

"What about you? And your café?"

Draco shook his head, unsure. "I don't know. Perhaps it knows me, too, and that's terrifying."

"It must," Potter replied, coming closer and gesturing toward Draco's left arm. "It knew about the Mark, and not many know that about you."

"I feel… you're the main focus," Draco said. "It's after you, but our minds are connected now. We won't leave each other, we're bound in a way. Perhaps it knows me, now, through you."

Potter looked blank for a moment and then shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Draco wanted to laugh but knew his partner well enough not to laugh at him. At least while in his presence. He needed to guide Potter further, to help him. Even though his brain felt as if it was being pried apart with an ice pick, Draco took a deep breath and said. "Well, we need to get back on track. What do you usually dream about?"

Potter looked lost for a moment, no doubt jarred by the sudden change of topic, but finally said, "Um, usually they're memories. Especially since the war ended. Sometimes, before, I'd have random dreams about nothing, but now it's usually… memories."

"Really? I almost always create my own dreams," Draco said.

"Well I don't have that kind of control," Potter said sharply. "I've never thought of dreams as something to manipulate, just something to endure."

Feeling oddly chastened for some reason, Draco remained silent while Potter flopped into one of the fuzzy, incomplete booths. There were no people around them. Potter hadn't figured them into his mental image.

"I can't control what's in my mind," Potter continued. "It's just there."

The restaurant blurred further as Potter's control slipped. Draco saw an odd image suddenly taking form – a Christmas tree. At first it was just a colored blob, but then it began to sharpen.

"Potter," Draco said softly. "What are you doing?"

"It's almost Christmas, you know," Potter said vaguely. "I've been dreaming a lot about Christmas."

He was losing all focus now, pulling them into a memory. Draco panicked.

"Potter, you need to focus," he said quickly. "Using a memory is fine, but remember you lost all sense of self when you used the Hogwarts memory! You need to focus and-"

"The lights are so beautiful."

The image, memory, was so sharp that it didn't form around them so much as they snapped into it. They were in some sort of house, scrupulously clean, with Christmas decorations spaced about. In the center of the room was a little boy, no more than five. With a jolt, Draco realized it was Potter. He was scrawny and wearing clothes much too large for his slight frame. Draco watched as he took off his glasses and set them in the seat of a chair.

"Potter," he whispered, almost afraid to raise his voice.

The little boy glanced at him and then smiled. Draco found himself charmed by that little face. A tooth was missing. Completely against his will, he smiled back.

"The lights are purdier without my glasses on," he said in a low voice, as if he were imparting a great secret. His grin widened and he went to the tree, where he hunched down and then wriggled underneath. Draco saw the feet turn over and then go still and he knew Potter was lying on his back and looking up at the lights through the tree. Draco himself had done this numerous times.

He approached the tree and knelt, looking under the lowest branches. Potter looked completely content, lying there and gazing at the lights. Draco was almost tempted to join him, just for a few moments, when he heard something behind him. Launching himself to his feet and withdrawing his wand, he went still when he saw a large, beefy man enter the room. He was wearing a hideous Christmas sweater and had a mustache like a walrus. What seemed odd was that the man didn't appear to see him.

He crossed the room, ignoring the tree, and began to lower himself into a chair. The same chair where Potter had put his glasses. There was a crunch, a moment of utter silence, and then –

"POTTER!" the man thundered.

Draco heard a yelp come from the tree and then Potter scrambled out, catching a branch to the side of his face. Draco saw a drop of blood well up as the boy gained his feet. The man was holding what was left of Potter's glasses in his hand.

"You left them there on purpose, didn't you boy?" the man snarled.

"N-no, Uncle Vernon," Potter said in his high voice.

"Yes you did, you little vermin," Potter's uncle spat. "You thought it would be funny, eh? A great laugh."

"No! I didn't!" the boy cried.

The slap was so fast it didn't register at first. Draco heard the crack of skin contacting skin, and saw Potter's head snap back. He gasped.

"Don't lie to me!" the man yelled.

"I'm not lying!" Potter sobbed, backing away and cradling his face. But the man, Potter's own uncle, followed. There was another slap, and then another.

Shocked, appalled, completely bewildered, Draco called out. "Potter! Focus!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon!" Potter moaned. Draco tried to grab the man but his hands went right through him and contacted Potter instead.

"Potter, snap out of it!" he said furiously. "You're a man, a twenty-five year old man, not a toddler! Come on, I need you to focus!"

Potter seemed immovable as the beating continued. Draco had never felt more useless in his life. How long would this go on? What could he do? He'd never encountered anything like this. He sank to his knees and helplessly watched as a grown man beat on a little boy. A blonde woman appeared in the doorway, no doubt Potter's aunt, but she did nothing. She simply stood there, expressionless.

"Harry," Draco said softly, weakly.

"Harry," the little boy said. Suddenly he wasn't a little boy any longer. He was himself, a man. He took one last shot to the face from his Uncle before shoving him aside. Draco looked at him, relieved, but Potter was obviously mortified.

"Oh my God," he gasped. His eyes, no longer hidden behind his glasses, widened. "Oh no… you didn't… you saw…?"

Draco nodded. The dream seemed to have paused, the man caught mid-fall to the floor. Potter covered his face with his hands and turned away. He was shaking.

"I want to go somewhere else," he said brokenly. "I…. I'm trying but it's not working!"

The image around them pulsed, but nothing happened. They weren't taken away. The image of Potter's Uncle seemed to be falling in slow motion. Draco watched as the mangled glasses slowly, so slowly, fell out of his hand. Draco grabbed them before they fell further. The room pulsed again, weaker than before. Potter moaned and hunched his shoulders, almost as if he were trying to hide.

Draco, taking pity but not wanting to appear that way, got to his feet and gently touched Potter's arms from behind. With one last venomous look at the man, he took them away into his own mind once more. Gently his pushed Harry's visions away, almost making his grasp of Potter's consciousness comforting. The living room melted away and Draco constructed walls filled with books.

He took them to a shop he'd come across on one of his trips to Paris. A Muggle bookstore.

It was huge, with many floors of books. On his trip he'd been enchanted with the store and how cozy, yet enormous, it was. He took them to the history section. It was secluded, on the third floor in a corner. Potter immediately walked a couple of feet away and went still, facing away from Draco, who wasn't sure just what to do.

He wanted to hold him. Totally irrational and completely unrealistic. Straight men did not allow themselves to be held by other men. Especially when that other man was just a coworker, barely even a friend. So Draco remained in place and gazed at Potter's back.

Did those Muggles not know, not understand just who Harry Potter was? That had to be it. Potter's own Uncle called him 'Potter'. Just like Draco did.

Draco had known who Harry Potter was his whole life. He was so excited that they were going to be in school together, the same year. Wouldn't it be an amazing thing if they were friends? Friends with a celebrity… He remembered his father, telling him the story, the whole story of how Harry Potter survived…

The books in front of his face looked like the ones in his library at home…

"Draco," Harry said suddenly. "What's happening?"

"What do you mean, Ha-Potter?"

"It's going fuzzy," Harry replied, looking around. "Are you changing it again, or what?"

"No," Draco replied, focusing. The fuzziness sharpened once more. Harry came closer and took his glasses out of Draco's hand. He fixed them with a wave of his wand and perched them once more on his nose. His eyes were slightly calculating, which made Draco very unnerved.

"What was that?" Harry asked curiously. "It was like… I dunno. Some sort of library or something."

"You saw that?" Draco asked in horror.

"Yeah," Harry said, intrigued. "I thought I even saw your dad. I wasn't sure what was happening."

Draco sighed. "Just being around you, in your undisciplined mind, has had a negative effect on me."

"You sound like Snape," Harry said with a grimace.

"Good, maybe that'll make you focus more," Draco snapped. Harry ignored the jab.

"What was it, anyway? What were you thinking about?"

"None of your damned business."

"Are you embarrassed?" Harry asked incredulously. "Seriously? It can't be that bad. You just saw… what you saw. Couldn't have been that bad."

"No, but I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on! You saw mine!"

"And that is not my fault," Draco said haughtily. "It's yours."

"What could it hurt? Come on, Draco!"

"No. We need to find a way to wake up. That is what we need to be… doing…"

But to his horror, for some reason the bookshop was melting. He was wavering, his sense of fairness unconsciously giving in to Harry's pleading. He always was weak where Harry – Potter – was concerned. If Potter ever found out, his life would be over. Potter looked about avidly as the scene emerged.

The library was dark, made of dark wood and jewel-toned carpet and window curtains. It was Christmas, his last Christmas before going to Hogwarts. Snow was falling peacefully outside the window.

He'd gotten some amazing presents! He loved his new broom most of all. He was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, reverently touching the handle. His small hands barely wrapped around it – it was made for adults but his father knew he could handle it. He was a great flier. Maybe he'd even make the house team…

"When the snow lets up, I'll take you out," his father said with a small smile from the chair next to the Christmas tree. He had a glass of some adult drink in his hand. He'd let Draco sip it once, because he'd pestered so much, but Draco hadn't liked it at all.

"You will not," his mother replied, walking in with one of the house-elves. It was holding a tea service. "You will wait until Spring, just like we discussed," she continued, glaring at Father.

"Of course, dear," Father said mildly, but when Mother turned away, he gave Draco a wink. Stifling laughter, Draco continued to look at his broom. It was fantastic.

"Soon enough it'll be time for school supplies," Mother said suddenly.

"He has months left, darling," Father replied lazily.

"He's growing so fast," she said, ignoring her husband. Her eyes were teary when she looked down at Draco. "He'll be a big boy soon, off to school."

"Mu-um," Draco whined. He hated it when she spoke to him like a child.

"Yes off to school," Father said. "You know you'll be there with Harry Potter."

Draco nodded. He was so looking forward to seeing Harry Potter, the boy who'd killed a full-grown wizard even when he was just an infant.

"How did he do it, Father?" Draco asked, looking up.

"Do what?"

"You know, kill someone when he was just a baby?"

The room went silent and suddenly Draco was worried that he'd said something wrong. His parents shared a look, one Draco didn't understand. Her eyes were oddly pleading, like she didn't want Father to say anything.

"Come here Draco," Father said suddenly. Putting his broom gently aside, Draco stood and went to his father, who pulled him into his lap. Draco felt that he was getting too old for such baby-like cuddling, but… he'd never tell anyone this ever… he liked being snuggled by his parents. He felt loved, every day, but snuggling was special. He curled up against Father and felt Mother join them at the chair.

"No one knows how he did it," Father said. Draco felt his chest rumble under his ear as he spoke. "He just did."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Draco asked. "That he killed the bad wizard?"

More silence. He knew he was treading dangerous ground, but he wanted to know.

"As far as the world is concerned," his mother said, "it's a good thing."

Draco didn't completely understand that statement but nodded as though he did. He felt his mother's lips on his head and smiled. He looked up just in time to see his parents kiss softly and made a gagging noise, even though he secretly loved when his parents got mushy. He saw a lot of anger between the parents of some of his friends, or they ignored each other. Like Pansy's parents. Blaise's mum killed her husbands. But Draco's parents, they loved each other.

Draco hopped to his feet, and grabbed his broom. He turned back to ask his father something but he couldn't help but notice the worried lines around both his and Mother's mouths.

And then he noticed Harry.

Potter. Harry. Shite.

Suddenly himself, no longer in the body of a ten year-old, Draco adjusted his robes and gave Harry a cold look. "Satisfied?"

Harry shrugged and looked back at the couple by the fire. The scene was paused now that Draco had full control once again.

"That's not what I expected," Harry finally said.

Embarrassed for some reason, but curious as to Harry's thoughts, he asked, "How so?"

"I thought it was going to be something… embarrassing or something, and then your parents…."

"What about them?" Draco asked darkly.

"They're not what I…. hm. I didn't think they acted like that."

"What? What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing," Harry said with a shrug. "That's the thing. Every time I see them they're so… I dunno. Haughty, I guess. And your father's only ever been a bastard to me."

"My father is not a nice man," Draco said carefully. "He's conniving, self-centered, and power-hungry. At least he was, no doubt, as you remember him. But even with all that, he loves his family. He'd do anything for them. I think that's the point."

Harry gave him a look, an oddly perceptive one that made Draco uncomfortable. "Thank you for showing me," he said finally.

"Trust me, that was not my intent," Draco said. "And if you tell anyone about that, ever, I will kill you."

Harry snorted and looked back at Draco's parents. "They're kinda… cute."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Cute?"

"Yeah," Harry said thoughtfully. "All kissy and cuddly. So normal. It's weird. And you," he said, pointing at Draco's chest. "You were so… yeah, cute." Draco made a scoffing noise while inside his heart tripped over in his chest. But then Harry continued. "What happened? Where did Cute Draco go, and how did this Jerky Draco emerge? I want Cute Draco back."

"Shut up. Now."

Harry laughed loudly and Draco decided he'd had enough, though he was secretly amused as well.

Why don't we go to Hogsmeade?

Hogsmeade. We shouldn't go there. Draco frowned, his thoughts suddenly… uncomfortable. As if he couldn't make his own decisions.

Go to Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade is safe. Don't you feel it? That pressure on you mind?

And Draco did feel it then. They had to leave. Their attacker had found them! But Hogsmeade… that couldn't be right. They couldn't go there.

Potter triumphed there… there is no safer place… go to Hogsmeade….

Of course Hogsmeade was safe. Without another thought, indeed he couldn't seem to think at all, he grabbed Potter and broke his own image. He had to get them to Hogsmeade. The fields were emerald green surrounding the village… yes…

"Draco, what are you doing?" Harry said, sounding confused.

Draco knew what happened in Hogsmeade, even if he hadn't been there at the time. He heard about it later, while visiting Snape. It had been he, after all, who had saved the Malfoy family. Draco's father had called in a favor, a debt that Snape had to pay. So he'd hidden them. Draco still didn't know how he did it. But he knew that the final battle, the place where Voldemort finally died, was in the fields outside of Hogsmeade.

So why the bloody hell did he go there?

He realized it was a mistake right away. Harry went pale, his eyes frantic.

"I know this place," Harry croaked. Shadowy forms began to take place in the high grasses of the fields. Draco could see the little village far off. With a jolt, he realized that his mind and Harry's had melded together for this vision. Draco had taken them there, inexplicably, but it was Harry who filling it in from his memory of the place.

Filling it with people. Screams, explosions.

"No…" Harry gasped.

The figures became more distinct. People in robes and masks, others dressed like it was any other day. So many people, all fighting. There was blood and flashes of light as spells flew in every direction.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I don't know how-"

"Must leave," Harry yelled. He sounded like he was talking to himself, even though he was yelling. "Must leave, someplace safe, not embarrassing, please not embarrassing…"

Draco's stomach dropped when he saw the all too familiar vision of Voldemort himself. The snake-like face split into a triumphant grin as he raised his wand at Harry. The presence that had been following them, attacking them, was there. It was in the vision, with them, not on the outside trying to break in. Draco panicked but before he could take them somewhere else, Harry did it for him. He grabbed Draco's hand, squeezed, and the scene dropped away, almost as if they'd been shot into the air.

Everything was black for a moment. Draco didn't fight, didn't try to help. He was too angry with himself. What had he been thinking? He hadn't. He hadn't even made a conscious decision to go to that place. He never would have on his own. He knew what it was, what had happened to Harry there. He was still furious with himself when they landed in a new place.

He registered that he was no longer holding Harry's hand. Harry was now a few feet away, standing before a girl. He looked no more than fifteen. So they'd delved into another of Potter's memories. The room was huge, but empty apart from just the two figures. And Draco himself. His eyebrow shot up when the girl stepped closer to Harry.

Draco suddenly recognized her. The Ravenclaw Chaser, Diggory's girlfriend. They were talking lowly, much too low for Draco to hear. The girl – Chang? – moved closer. Harry looked stunned, paralyzed. And then she was kissing him.

Draco pursed his lips. Apparently when Harry was thinking 'nothing embarrassing', he must have accidentally taken them to when he was kissing some girl. Draco would need to tell him that purposely 'not thinking' about something immediately brought it to the forefront of your mind. It was like telling yourself not to think about big pink elephants. Obviously big pink elephants would show up in your head.

Draco's thoughts came to a halt when suddenly Chang burst into tears. Draco couldn't help it, he let out a peal of laughter. Harry kissing someone, probably his first kiss, and she ends up in tears! Had they still been enemies, he would never have let Harry live this down! Harry, startled by Chang's crying, suddenly looked up and scowled. He reverted to himself, his actual age, and put his hands on his hips.

"It's not funny!" he snapped.

"Oh, yes it is!" Draco giggled. "Your first kiss?"

"Shut up. Just shut up."

Chang sobbed louder.

"Your first kiss, and she cries! Were you that terrible?" Draco doubled over in laughter.

"Oh, and was your first kiss so perfect, then?" Harry demanded.

"Well," Draco said, gasping a bit, still amused by Chang's tearful face. "He didn't end up crying, that's for sure!"

Harry went still, his eyes suddenly shrewd. "He?" he asked quietly. And Draco knew he'd made a mistake. Before he could even attempt to salvage the situation, Harry pounced on the subject. "Don't think about your first kiss, Draco. Don't think about it."

His first kiss… the Slytherin common room… third year… No! Something else, anything else!

"Don't do it, Draco. Don't think about the boy you kissed!"

Blaise…

He felt Potter pushing away the projection. Draco was too disoriented, too vulnerable after giving Potter the reigns to take them out of Hogsmeade. It was all too easy for Potter to manipulate Draco into thinking about his first kiss, all too easy for him to push them into Draco's mind, joined as they were. All too easy for Draco to give in. Before he knew what was really happening, the stone walls appeared.

The common room was empty. It was late, much too late to be up on a school night, but Draco was upset.

"It can't be all that bad, Draco," Blaise said softly.

"You don't understand!" Draco replied, twisting his tie between his fingers.

"That's right, I don't, because you won't tell me," Blaise said, his voice gentle.

This was why he always came to Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid, Pansy would shoot her mouth off. But Blaise, in his quiet, always watching and waiting sort of way, was dependable. And he'd listen, never urge you to speak before you were ready. Just… be there. It was comforting.

"My family would disown me," Draco said suddenly. "If they knew, I mean, if I told them what I think… might be happening…"

Blaise moved closer to him on their shared couch and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He said not a word.

"It started a few months ago," Draco said, his voice hushed. "Just dreams and such. And then I'd catch myself thinking… Oh, Merlin."

"It's alright," Blaise said. "I think I know what you're trying to say."

"How do I make it go away?"

"You don't," Blaise replied, a hint of sharpness in his voice. "You know that."

"But I can't even be sure! I mean, I've never even been kissed…"

"Not Pansy?" Blaise asked in surprise.

"No," Draco replied miserably. "I just can't bring myself to do it. Merlin knows she's willing."

"Well that tells you something right there."

"But… maybe it's just her. Maybe another girl…?"

"Why are you asking me? Haven't you tried another girl?"

Draco was silent. Yes, he'd tried to envision kissing some other girl but they always turned into…

"It doesn't work," Draco mumbled.

"I think you have your answer, Draco," Blaise said softly. "It's not the end of the world, you know."

"You've met my parents!" Draco said. "You know being a pureblood is all about ensuring the line! How can I do that if I'm… I can't."

"Sure you can," Blaise replied. "And this could just be a phase. Perhaps you like both, you just have yet to meet a girl you fancy."

Draco just shook his head. There was no girl. "I don't know, Blaise. I just… don't know. I don't understand anything anymore."

"Get yourself kissed," Blaise said knowingly. "Then go from there. It's no big deal."

"Oh yeah, sure," Draco said sarcastically. "And I should just go up to someone, plant one on them, and see what happens?"

Draco didn't know what happened next, but suddenly he was pressed into the sofa, on his back, and Blaise was on top of him. There was no time to panic. No time for anything but sensation. And there was sensation. Blaise's lips were soft and warm on his own. It felt… fantastic. It was so perfect, so right, that he moaned and pressed his lips even harder to Blaise's. Fingers touched his cheeks and neck. He wrapped his arms around Blaise's slender frame and held him close. He never wanted it to end.

That warm mouth meandered down to his neck and he purred. There was no other word for it. It felt so good that he was completely lost. His eyes slid open slightly and then caught on a figure standing there.

Harry.

Draco snapped back to the present and shoved the thirteen year old form of Blaise away. The scene paused. Again, again, he'd lost himself in front of Harry.

"Damn it," Draco muttered. "You prat."

"It was only fair," Harry replied, looking a little gobsmacked.

"I can't help that you keep showing me things you don't want me to see!"

"And I can't help that you have no control over your memories anymore," Harry replied, looking a little smug.

"You bloody well did that on purpose and you know it!"

"Yep," he said, unrepentant. "You were laughing at me."

"It was funny, Harry," Draco said, getting to his feet and trying to fix his hair. "You kissed her, and she started crying. Not many have that talent."

"She was crying because she felt bad about her feelings towards me! Cedric had only died a few months previously."

Squashing his sudden guilt, Draco shrugged. "Whatever, Potter. We need to get out of here. We need a plan, a way to wake up, and I don't want to think about it here."

"Too distracted by your young lover?"

"Fuck you very much, Potter. Let's move on before whatever is after us finds us. I didn't exactly have time to create fortifications for this place."

Seething, Harry just nodded. "I know somewhere we can go, someplace safe. I can't believe I haven't thought of it before now."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Harry grabbed him, a little bit more roughly than usual, and pushed aside Draco's construction and replaced it with a dank, dirty kitchen with ragged furniture. It was dark without even a fire in the huge fireplace. A scrawny Christmas tree was huddled in a corner with only a few ornaments and no lights on it.

"Where are we?" Draco asked, having trouble hiding his disgust.

"A place I own," Harry replied. "Used to be the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius Black's house."

"Huh," Draco replied. For some reason the place made him uneasy. He felt as though he was being watched, like the walls had eyes and ears. Pushing the thought aside, he eyed Harry. "I'm sorry."

Harry's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "For what, the kiss thing?"

Draco huffed. "No. For the other thing. The Hogsmeade thing."

"Oh. Well. Why did you go there?"

Draco opened his mouth but paused for a moment. Frowning, he said, "You know, I didn't. Not consciously. I would never have gone there. I know what it is for you."

"Then how did we get there?"

"It was like… a push. No, more like a suggestion, in my head. I think I even argued with myself, knowing it was a bad idea. And then I just… went."

Harry went pale. "What if it wasn't you? What if it was what we've been running from?"

"How could it have gotten a hold on me?" Draco asked, feeling suddenly cold inside.

"How can it do whatever it's doing now? We don't know, Draco. That's why this is terrifying. We have no idea what it is or what it wants. And we can't wake up. Now we know it can even plant suggestions in us, make us do things. It was going to make you leave me, back in that café."

"So far it's only tried to make me do things, not you."

"I feel it, though," Harry said. "I feel it pressing on my mind. Sometimes I'm thinking things, and it's not me. And then I realize it and… I dunno. I guess I Occlude and it's gone."

Harry could push it away, but Draco, the mental health side of the partnership, couldn't. Suddenly furious with himself, but not knowing why, Draco began to pace. He refused to look at Harry. He felt like he was letting his partner down. This was his thing, it was what he did for a living, and he couldn't seem to be able to save them.

He almost tripped over an uneven stone. He hated where Harry had taken them. The longer they stayed, the more uncomfortable Draco felt.

"Well," Harry said suddenly, looking at the floor. "I didn't realize we had something in common, though."

"And what's that?" Draco replied, eyeing the walls suspiciously. There was just something not right about this place. It was perfectly vivid, no doubt because Harry knew the place well. Perhaps it wasn't as safe as Harry thought it was, if it was so accessible in his mind…

"Being gay," Harry said quietly.

Draco went still, heart hammering suddenly. Forgetting his perusal of the walls, he turned to Harry. "I never said I was gay."

"What?" Harry gasped. "But…. What we just saw…you said-"

"That I might be gay," Draco interrupted. "Not that I was."

"But that kiss, you obviously enjoyed it!"

Draco gritted his teeth. He didn't want to talk about this. "Drop it, Potter."

"No! Don't you dare lie to me!"

"Why the bloody hell not?" Draco yelled. "I owe you nothing! We work together, Potter, that is the extent of this relationship! I don't need to inform you of my personal life!"

Harry suddenly looked a little lost. "I just thought… If you struggled with it like I did, perhaps…"

"What? Perhaps what Potter?"

"I just… I have no one to talk to about it. No family or anything. I told Hermione, but she's a girl and doesn't understand it. Same with Ginny."

"So you and Weasley… aren't…?"

Harry laughed humorlessly and sat on a bench. "No. She is my guard dog and I'm hers. She's a big deal in the Quidditch world. Lots of men would just love to shag her. But if she's dating the Great Harry Potter, then they back off. And same for me. I get a lot of women who think they're in love with the Savior. But if I have Ginny around, then I don't get the mail so much. And I'm just not ready for everyone to know… I mean, can you imagine what the Prophet would have to say? Harry Potter is gay. The man who saved the world likes cock. It would be a nightmare… And I don't even have anyone to talk to about it."

Draco sighed. So true, yet he had Blaise. Blaise kept him sane. Who looked after Harry, other than Granger or Weasley? Two women who had actual families? Who wouldn't judge Harry? Draco wasn't sure he could be that man. He was always judging Harry. It was practically instinct after school.

Draco sighed and sat on the same bench, though he made sure there was plenty of room between them. Finding out the man he'd been in love with for years was gay didn't mean he could suddenly just launch himself at him. Taking his sigh as one of defeat, Harry started talking. It was like he didn't have a brain filter and everything just poured out.

"I realized it after the war was over," he said quickly. "Before then, I didn't have much time to think about it. One night, frustrated as hell, I went out into Muggle London, a gay club I heard about somewhere. I let some bloke take me home."

Harry didn't realize it, but his thoughts were starting to project. The amazing thing was that the kitchen didn't change. He was holding onto their protective walls, but still projecting his thoughts. Draco could see the vision of a man over Harry's shoulder, like something out of a looking glass. He looked so out of place that Draco blinked. He had brown hair and a smooth, muscular body. Draco could tell, seeing as how the man was naked.

"I was terrified, but he… took good care of me."

There was Harry, another Harry, in the image. Draco looked between that one and the one sitting before him. He shut his eyes hard, then opened them in time to see the image Harry remove his shirt. Should he say something? But Harry had been embarrassed so many times in their journey so far… Maybe he should keep his mouth shut and save Harry the humiliation of knowing that he was projecting his first sexual encounter with a man. Of course that was utter crap and Draco knew it. He just wanted to watch. He should look away. It was a gross invasion of privacy, especially since Harry didn't seem to know what was going on, but before he could say a word, the two men kissed. It was beautiful. And infuriating.

"I've heard lots of stories about first times," Harry continued. "All horror stories but this bloke made it alright. Really fantastic actually."

The image shifted from benign kissing to full on fucking in the blink of an eye. Draco couldn't quite contain the noise that escaped his mouth, but Harry didn't notice. Draco watched the two figures writhe together, their lips pressed together hard. Watched Harry's head arch back into the pillow behind his head and cry out silently.

Then it was gone. Draco didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"After that, I knew," Harry continued. "I kept going to Muggle London just for anonymity. I found these men and had a great time."

Draco could tell. He crossed his legs, trying to look nonchalant as image after image appeared. He was going to have to say something, to stop Harry…. in a minute. He watched, eyes glued, as the image of Harry had all kinds of sex with all kinds of men. Sweaty sex against a wall with a beautiful black man, hidden public sex in some shrubbery in a park, sex on the stairs, in a shower, a car. Hardly ever a bed. It was becoming more uncomfortable for Draco to appear calm and collected.

"So you know you're gay and have great sex," Draco interrupted. Thankfully the erotic images vanished. "Good for you. Now we need to wake up." Looking hurt, Harry silently nodded. Feeling contrite, Draco continued, "We can talk about it later, Potter. When we're not fighting for our lives. We need to focus on the present."

He'd be more than happy to have that conversation later. When he wouldn't be able to watch Harry's trysts as though watching a Muggle television screen. He prayed to whoever was listening that Harry wouldn't see that he was hard. He couldn't get the image of Harry fucking some tan bloke on a rug in front of a fireplace out of his head. He'd been so focused, so beautiful…

"Draco, are you listening to me?" Harry demanded.

Draco jumped and looked into Harry's eyes. "No."

Harry huffed. "You're the one who said we need to focus! Now help me figure out how to bloody wake up."

Considering for a moment, Draco then reached out and punched Harry in the shoulder.

"OW! What the fuck?" Harry gasped.

"Surprise obviously won't do," Draco murmured. "We've been attacked numerous times and the shock of that hasn't woken us."

"Ya think?" Harry said sarcastically.

Draco then reached forward again, much more quickly, and pushed Harry backward so that he fell off the bench and onto the floor.

"SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK?" Harry bellowed.

Having entirely too much fun, Draco pursed his lips. "Falling has no impact either. You know those falling dreams, where you wake up before you hit the floor? Doesn't work in this case."

"Yes," Harry growled, getting to his feet. "I can tell."

"This is all too odd," Draco said softly. "I have no idea how to wake us up."

"Perhaps whatever is following us wants us to remain asleep," Harry said helpfully, carefully seating himself out of Draco's reach. "Maybe they have that kind of control."

"There's a thought," Draco replied. "Not only can they follow our minds, but they can keep us asleep. At least we can keep them out."

"Mostly," Harry said. "Until they make the walls explode. Or mysteriously use subliminal messaging."

"We need to kill the threat, then," Draco said calmly. "Destroy it, and we'll be able to waken."

"But we don't even know what it is," Harry said irritably. "Only that it feels like Voldemort, and fat lot of help that is."

"Brainstorming session?"

Draco and Harry looked up at the same time to the intruder. Harry gasped and lurched to his feet. Draco, thinking it was some kind of threat, followed and pulled out his wand. But Harry then launched himself at the newcomer and wrapped him in a hug.

"I don't care if you're just a projection of my mind," Harry said into the man's shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you."

Draco frowned. Not a threat, then, but…. There was something he didn't quite like about the newcomer. He was so beautiful. Black hair and grey eyes, tall and a bit thin but it added to his sense of sensuality.

"Sirius," Harry murmured.

Ah, Draco thought, suddenly understanding. Sirius Black, the owner of the house. Harry's godfather. Draco vaguely recognized him but he looked much different than what Draco had seen of him in the newspaper.

The man looked over Harry's shoulder at Draco, his eyes assessing. It made Draco extremely uncomfortable. Harry pulled Black to the table, introducing Draco as his Auror partner.

"Lucius Malfoy's son?" Black whispered.

"Sirius, he's fine," Harry said impatiently. "You can trust him. I do."

Draco sat a little taller, filled with a kind of pride. Harry trusted him.

"Hm," Black said noncommittally.

"Draco," Harry said suddenly. "I think I feel a threat."

"We'll have to move," Draco said. "Again. We can't let it catch us."

He felt it too, as though a pressure was building. Something… not against his mind but… there.

"Stay a while," Black said suddenly. "You're safe here, Harry. You know that."

"I can feel it too, Harry," Draco said quickly. "We need to leave."

"No," Black said harshly. "You can't take him from me!"

"Sirius, it's okay!" Harry said in alarm. "He's right, I have to leave. I wish you were real…"

"I am real," Black said soothingly. "Stay here. With me. Who could you trust more?"

"Harry," Draco said lowly. "You know this is a dream."

"Yeah, I do," Harry said with a frown. "Sirius, what are you playing at?"

"He's your creation, Harry," Draco said. "Remember, you're in control."

"But… I'm not," Harry said in confusion. "I'm not in control of him!"

Black suddenly grinned, an evil, vile grin and Draco knew. They'd been infiltrated. Harry's fortification wasn't enough. This was their attacker.

"Harry, come on!" Draco yelled as Black got to his feet and pulled out his wand. But Harry was too far away to grab.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, wand in hand.

"You know me," Black hissed. "You know me better than anyone."

"It's not possible," Harry said weakly. "No…"

Black suddenly lashed out and gripped the front of Harry's shirt in an iron fist. Harry cried out sharply, falling forward. Into Draco's reach.

"Look into my eyes!" Black snarled. "Look at me, Harry Potter!"

"No!" Draco yelled. "Look at me, Harry! Me!"

Green eyes looked up at him, full of panic. Draco brought a fist down into Black's elbow, who hissed in pain and released Harry's shirt. Thinking fast and focusing harder than he ever had in his life Draco pulled Harry into his arms.

"Break the image!" Draco commanded. Immediately the room began to fracture. The image of Black was thrust back into a crumbling wall as though he'd been kicked. The bits of room fell away. Draco imagined brick after brick appearing and building a wall between them and the fallen form of Black. The wall grew larger and larger, going as far as the eye could see.

"I don't know how long I can hold this," Draco said softly. "My mind is… so stretched."

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured.

They were still holding each other. As if both came to the same thought, they let go and stepped back.

"Don't apologize," Draco said gruffly. "What was that? It felt…"

"Familiar?" Harry said with a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah. It was Voldemort."

His thoughts already brittle from all the jumping around they'd been doing, Draco lost all focus with shock. "What did you say?"

"Yeah. It's him."

"No!" Draco gasped. "It cannot be! You killed him!"

The brick wall shuddered. Even as he felt the first cracks, Draco knew it was a lost cause. He was too tired. He couldn't hold the foundation. The wall came crumbling down. Harry jumped to his side and held up his wand as a figure came into view.

Draco wasn't sure if it was possible to actually vomit in a dreamscape, but he sure felt like wanted to. Voldemort calmly walked over the mound of brick and stood before them.

Was it a vision? Or was Harry correct?

"I don't understand," Draco whispered. "I just don't get it."

Harry suddenly collapsed, clutching his head.

"Harry!" Draco gasped, dropping down beside him

"Didn't get them all, did you Harry?" Voldemort said, laughter in his voice. "You missed one. Just one. But one is all I needed."

"Harry," Draco murmured, staring at his partner as he began to rock back and forth.

"It was all too easy to get back into your mind, Harry Potter," Voldemort continued. "So preoccupied, so distracted with young Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's head snapped up and he sent a malevolent glare at their enemy, only feet away. Voldemort laughed.

"How can you still be here?" Draco demanded.

"Ask Harry," Voldemort replied. "He was the one who was supposed to kill me. But he didn't know about the last one, did you Harry? So here I am."

"Last what?"

"Horcrux, of course. Ah, I'm not surprised he didn't divulge that information. You see, Draco, I divvied up my soul so that I could never die. Harry was supposed to find those bits of soul and kill them, so that I'd perish for good. But he failed. He forgot to look within himself. Funny how the self-centered never truly look at themselves."

Draco wanted to snarl. Harry was probably the least self-centered person Draco had ever met, but there was no point in saying so. He needed to keep Voldemort talking, an easy task because the man loved to hear himself speak. Draco needed more information.

"What do you mean?" he asked, careful to look intrigued but defiant. Voldemort smiled, which almost made Draco grimace.

"Because Harry didn't kill all the Horcruxes, I was what I was before. Body-less, but still alive. For the longest time I had no plan, but then… it came to me. I needed a body, one that wouldn't reject me. To get it, I needed Potter. So I possessed my way back to England."

What? What could he mean?

"Snakes?" Potter asked in a choked voice, looking up from the ground.

"Yes," Voldemort replied with a tilt of his head. "And some people. Now here I am."

"Come on, Harry, focus!" Draco said sharply, gazing at Harry's crumbled form. "Push him back!"

"There's nothing you can really do, Draco," Voldemort said calmly. "I have a grasp of his mind. Silly young Malfoy. You have no idea, do you? He could have kept me out, if you hadn't have arrived," Voldemort said silkily. Draco paused. "Yes, he's weak about you. Those walls were perfectly solid, completely impenetrable, until you showed up. It was quite easy to follow you in. You know why he let you in, don't you?"

Draco stared down at Harry. He didn't want to hear it, but he needed to.

"He's been mad about you for ages," Voldemort said. "Always had a weak spot where you were concerned. At first it was hatred, which is a kind of weakness. But then it shifted into something else. Here, let me show you."

The rubble from the wall vanished. It was like looking into large television.

"He watched you," Voldemort said softly. It was their cubicle. Harry was staring at him, though Draco didn't know it. When he turned away to pick up a file, Harry's eyes fell to Draco's ass. "He wanted you. He gave off the image of not caring about you one way or another, but all the while he wanted you desperately."

The image shifted to Harry in what could only be his own bed, his hand wrapped around his hard cock. He writhed, pumping his hips up into his fist. The image of Harry moaned, "Draco…"

"It's always you he fantasizes about," Voldemort continued, sounding as though he were having the time of his life. The image turned into another, and another. All of them Harry wanking with Draco's name on his lips. "Even when he was with other men, he was thinking it was you. Did you not notice that most of his encounters were with blonds?"

The image that Draco had liked so much from earlier, of Harry with the man on the rug in front of the fire, appeared once more. Draco realized that the man was, indeed, blond. The image lasted longer this time, torturing Harry, who was groaning in pain and mortification. But Draco couldn't look away. Harry's hips moved quickly, faster and faster until he went still and shuddered. "Draco…" he whispered.

"Even now he harbors a spark of hope," Voldemort said maliciously. "Knowing now that you're like him, maybe, just maybe, he has a chance."

"You sick fuck," Draco snapped. "You sick bastard!"

"Stop!" Harry yelled. "I've had enough!"

Eyes narrowed in pain, he got to his knees. Draco supported him, though Harry flinched at the contact.

"We need to wake up, Harry," Draco said quickly. "Now!"

"Oh, but you can't," Voldemort said in a sing-song voice. "I have his mind. You are free to wake any time, Draco Malfoy, but Harry cannot."

"He's right," Harry gasped.

There was no way that Draco was leaving him behind. They'd been able to hold him back this long. Now that they knew what the threat was, perhaps they could hold him off longer? Draco closed his eyes and began to focus once more, pulling all the energy he had into himself. Next to him, Harry was panting. He yanked Harry close and thought of a picture he once saw in a magazine. A place almost too beautiful to be real. With Harry there, they'd be found eventually, but it would be safe for a little while at least. Draco would make sure of it.

He could hear Voldemort approaching.

"I won't let you!" Harry yelled. There was a pulse, a huge force of power, and Voldemort was thrown back. This was Draco's chance!

He focused on the image, on the gorgeous blue ocean and huge, tropical trees. He could feel sand under his knees.

"No!" Voldemort screamed. But the scream wavered and then was cut off abruptly. Draco could hear waves lapping against sand. He opened his eyes.