Epilogue - Smooth Sailing

The Auror Department was bedlam. Draco thought every Ministry employee in Britain might be in attendance, and all of them were talking at once. Freeman turned out to be a master at issuing orders, however, and soon she had driven all non-essential personnel out of the immediate area and sent the others away with a variety of duties. The suspects were either in lockup or had been dragged away for questioning under Veritaserum once their solicitors had arrived to throw their legal Bludgers into the proceedings.

Draco was happy enough to sit in Harry's tiny office and wait his turn for questioning. When the time came, he was grilled by Freeman and the Minister himself, without Veritaserum, and he was also allowed to have Harry remain at his side. The story of him finding Harry and bringing him back to London was quickly told, elaborated upon here and there by Harry.

When all possible questions had been answered, Shacklebolt ordered Harry to St Mungo's for treatment in regards to his memory loss, and placed on indefinite leave until such time as he recalled his job duties.

Draco accompanied Harry to the hospital, but the no-nonsense staff members shooed him away and insisted on taking Harry away for analysis and tending. To Draco's embarrassment, he found himself clutching at Harry's hand, anxious.

Harry gripped his hand tightly and leaned close. "Hey. It will be fine."

"What if you get all of your memories back?"

"That's pretty much the idea." Harry's grin was familiar and his eyes sparkled.

"What if you hate me again?" Draco whispered.

Harry pulled him close and pressed his forehead against Draco's. His hand curled into the hair at the back of Draco's neck and stroked lightly. "Draco, anything I remember will not be strong enough to erase my memories of the past few days. I won't hate you. I promise."

With that, he pressed a light kiss to Draco's lips and allowed the healers to pull him away. Draco ignored the whispers and glances, too worried about what might happen despite Harry's assurances.

Uncertain what to do next, he made his way to the lift and stood before the open doors, pondering. He supposed he could go and visit his parents, but there were far too many questions he did not want to have to answer, not with his future so unclear. He was also not ready to face Pansy and her inevitable commentary on Draco's stupidity for falling for the Chosen One. He frowned when he realised he no longer appreciated referring to Harry in derisive capital letters; how far he had fallen.

"Are you all right?"

Draco looked up, surprised, to find Hermione Granger standing nearby. He nodded.

"He'll be fine. They should have his physiology memorised by now, he's been here to often. Would you like a cup of tea? I was about to go home and brew a strong pot."

Although he wondered at her ulterior motive, Draco was grateful enough for the distraction and the unexpected provision of an immediate destination. He accepted her invitation and they made their way to the ground floor and then the public Floo. She had evidently left the wards set to admit him as she made no mention of needing to adjust them. Strangely, he was pleased by the fact.

"Feel free to move any books and papers necessary," she said as she bustled around the kitchen. "One day I need to purchase another bookcase or two."

"Or ten," Draco muttered.

"Or ten," she echoed and Draco smiled.

The tea was strong and hot and Draco drank it without speaking, trying not to reflect upon the tea he had consumed with Harry that morning, just after they had awakened and exchanged brilliant blowjobs. He felt his cheeks growing warm.

"So. You and Harry."

Draco lowered the teacup and met her stare. "Is there a problem?"

Surprisingly, her gaze softened with amusement. "I am mature enough to admit that Harry is grown up enough to make his own decisions. You might think that only Harry's memory loss allowed him to see you in a new light and perhaps it helped that he saw you again with a clean slate, but you should know..."

"Know what?"

"I think he's always fancied you. I've thought about it since I saw you together. Ron and I never quite understood his obsession with you, not even in sixth year when he swore—rightly so—that you were up to something. Watching you was one thing. Obsessively stalking you was another."

"He stalked me?"

"Obsessively." Granger snorted a chuckle and sipped at her tea. "Which was probably a lucky thing considering that was the year you nearly killed a few people."

Draco blanched. "Salazar, what if Harry remembers that? There is no way he will not hate me."

"You do care for him, don't you?"

Draco scowled, but he nodded. "It was nice to be needed." And wanted, he thought, although it was likely Harry wouldn't need him any longer once he remembered his past. The wanting, however, would hopefully still be an option.

"Would you like some biscuits? I promise I didn't make them myself." Granger got to her feet and went back into the kitchen, only to return a few moments later with a plate of assorted biscuits. Draco took the one with the most chocolate and nibbled at it. "Do you think Harry's Auror partner is innocent?"

"Jacob?" Granger shook her head. "Unfortunately, I don't believe he is. Ron has been keeping a close eye on him and and behaviour has been suspect, even beyond what an Imperius Curse would suggest. The worst of it is that he was the most likely person to have given away Harry's location. I fear that Jacob was involved from the beginning and they had to Obliviate him when Harry escaped with Bradford in order to keep him from spilling their secrets."

"And Greyback was behind it the whole time. Did they find Salisbury's wife and child?"

"Yes, both terrified and half-starved, but I think they'll be fine. It won't save Salisbury from Azkaban, of course, but he might be given some leniency under the circumstances."

"Where did you get these biscuits?" Draco asked, eating another. They were quite tasty.

Before she could answer, the fireplace flared and expelled a gangly lump of ginger. Draco wrinkled his nose.

"What's he doing here?" Ron Weasley asked, rather rudely, Draco thought.

"Have you seen Harry yet?" Granger asked.

"Yeah, at the Ministry. He doesn't remember me. Isn't that weird?"

"Lucky Harry," Draco murmured.

Weasley glared. "Really, what is he doing here?"

"Draco has been helping Harry."

"Helping Harry. That's a laugh. What's he actually doing here?"

"Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment, Ron? Draco, we'll be right back." Granger gave Weasley a pointed stare and then marched into the kitchen. Draco reached for another biscuit and gave Weasley a smug look. He was in for a tongue-lashing. At that moment Draco decided Granger wasn't a bad sort. He might have to make up his past behaviour somehow.

Although it was tempting to eavesdrop and listen to Weasley being chastised, the tea Draco had consumed demanded an exit, so he got to his feet and wandered down the hallway to locate the small loo. He had to admit it was passably charming to discover a large stack of books chock-a-block inside a cabinet near the sink.

He glanced at the titles while he did his business. Wizarding Traditions From 1600 to 1850. 101 Cleaning Charms. How To Tame Your Hair With Six Simple Spells. Fornsby Follett - Charmed Chaser - An Autobiography. Draco suspected the last one had been added with Weasley in mind, unless Granger had a bit of a crush. Curious, he washed his hands and then flipped through the hair-taming book. Curious. Granger's hair seemed just as unruly as ever; Draco wondered if she had actually tried the charms listed.

He started and put the book back when he heard a voice bellow, "Hermione!" For a moment he thought it was Weasley and then he realised who the voice belonged to. Harry.

Draco opened the door quietly and listened. Granger's voice was muffled and then grew louder. "Harry! What is it? How do you feel?"

"I'm fine. The healers did a great job. Hi, Ron. Hermione, I need your help!"

Harry's voice sounded frantic and Draco froze with his hand on the door. Did Harry remember, then? What if he never wanted to see Draco again?

"What do you need my help with? What is it? You're scaring me!"

"I'm sorry, but I've looked everywhere! It's Draco, he's disappeared. I thought he might be waiting for me at St Mungo's, but—Salazar, what if he's gone back to Spain? I even went to Malfoy Manor and I think Lucius Malfoy has placed some sort contract out on my life—I'll worry about that later, but he was not pleased to see me. Merlin, where could he have gone?"

Draco pushed open the door and walked down the hallway. "You saw my father? Are you insane?"

For a moment Harry stared at him as though he had Apparated unexpectedly, and then he launched himself into Draco's arms and kissed him.

Weasley's horrified cry was music to Draco's ears. When Harry pulled away, Draco shook his head, bemused. "They couldn't cure you? You don't remember anything?"

Harry smiled. "I remember everything! Isn't it great? I remember Ron and Auror Training and Sunday dinners at the Burrow and Voldemort—well, that part kind of sucks, I have to admit—and I remember how you almost killed Dumbledore and that time you broke my nose and—Merlin, you look amazing."

Draco stared at him. "You remember all of that and you still—?"

Harry laughed aloud. "Of course I still. On top of all that stuff I remember what you did to me this morning. I still— I can't—"

Draco blushed scarlet and Weasley made a sound that defied description whilst Granger coughed into her hand, covering something that might have been a giggle.

"Draco, you didn't honestly think I'd abandon you once I remembered, did you? After all you've done for me? How bloody callous do you think I am?" Harry stepped back, looking properly outraged.

Instead of defending his assumptions, Draco followed Harry with a predatory grin. "Did you honestly go to Malfoy Manor looking for me?"

At Harry's uncertain nod, Draco smiled. "You are even braver than I thought, Potter. Such intrepid tenacity deserves a reward, don't you think?"

"A...a reward?" The outrage fled Harry's expression, replaced with something that could only be interest. Draco's last fear fizzled and died, buried in a deluge of excitement. Harry still wanted him.

Draco leaned in and whispered a number of filthy suggestions into Harry's ear, and smiled when Harry stilled to the point of not breathing.

"I remembered that I have a house. With bedrooms. Would you like to see?" Harry's voice was a squeak and then he inhaled, much to Draco's relief.

"I would very much like that, Harry."

Weasley's wordless noises of protests were beginning to be distracting, but Granger shushed him. "Oh, stop, Ron. Can't you see they're in love?"

"I'll talk to you guys tomorrow. Promise," Harry said as took Draco's hand and dragged him towards the fireplace.

"It won't be early," Draco promised and gave Weasley a wink.

"Have fun!" Granger called and then they were in the fire and gone.

Harry was on fire. His memories had been returned after downing a couple of potions and staring into a murky orb whilst a healer had prodded about in his skull with a couple of spells that reminded him of Occlumency and left him with an itch that seemed to reside inside of his skull.

The returning flood of his memories had been an unspeakable relief, seeming to fill crevices in his personality that he hadn't been aware of being empty. He had flitted through his past for long minutes, amazed (and horrified) at what he had accomplished in his short life. He was not even twenty-five years old and he'd saved the bloody world from a madman. He'd even died and come back.

When Harry had left St Mungo's, he'd felt like he could do anything. And the one person he wanted to share it with was Draco Malfoy. That had been quite a revelation, but the knowledge of Draco's past had been surprisingly easy to accept. Even though Harry recalled clearly what a prat he had been a Hogwarts, the more recent memories had shown through like beacons, highlighting Draco's loyalty, intelligence, and amazing selflessness.

By the time he'd left the hospital, Harry had accepted the fact that he was in love with Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately, he had been quite unable to locate him. For several dreadful hours, he had worried that Draco had fled back to Spain. Although Harry had been willing to track him there, he'd decided to try Hermione first.

And now Draco was here, in his house. It seemed like every unacknowledged birthday wish he'd ever made had saved itself up and decided to finally reward him.

"This is the, um, kitchen," he said awkwardly. "I used to have a house-elf but he died two years ago. I can't tell you how strange it is to be able to remember things like that. It feels good to remember even if the memories are terrible. Does that make sense?"

Draco moved closer and took his hand. "It does."

Harry gave him a grateful smile. "Are you hungry or would you like to finish the tour?"

"Tour."

It was only one word, but the way Draco delivered it made his heart leap. He hoped his hands wouldn't start to sweat because Draco did not let go and Harry led him upstairs. "Hermione has turned this room into kind of a library. She has so many that the ones she wants to keep for reference and whatever she brings here. I have plenty of space."

"Water closet there, three spare bedrooms on this level, and this..." Harry pushed open a door at the end of the hall, "...is my room."

Draco let go of his hand and walked inside, turning in a slow circle as he evaluated it. Harry tugged at his fringe and tried to look at the room critically. It seemed somewhat cold and lifeless to him, as though he had only been biding time instead of making it into a real home. The furnishings had been in the room when he'd arrived, as had the heavy emerald and black curtains on both the windows and the bed.

Only the bedcovers and the carpets were new, the first a gift from Hermione—she'd shaken her head at the curtains multiple times, but the bedcovers matched—and the latter were a gift from Harry to his feet because the wooden floors were cold in the morning.

"Green, Potter?" Draco lifted a brow. "It's almost as if you knew I was coming."

Harry moved towards him, warmed by the amused tone. "Maybe I was waiting for you." Harry took his hands. "Draco, now that you're here... I mean, I know you live in Spain now, but you were talking about coming back and I... Well, I would really like it if you stayed with me. I know it's probably too soon and we've only—"

His words were cut off as Draco leaned in and kissed him. Hands curled around Harry's hips and Draco walked him backwards to the bed. He pushed gently and Harry fell onto his back, pulling Draco with him. They kept kissing as they scooted towards the centre and then Draco looked down at him with a gentle smile.

"Is that a yes?" Harry asked, and then closed his eyes when Draco's hand curled around his erection and squeezed.

"People will have a lot to say about it."

Harry snorted. "People have a lot to say about everything. I leave the country and people decided I was a murderer." He made a soft sound of pleasure when Draco's hand continued to stroke, working up and down the length of his cock.

"Take off your shirt."

Despite wanting to talk, Harry obediently pulled the shirt over his head. It was actually Draco's shirt, as Harry had lost everything he owned in Paris. While he did that, Draco unfastened his trousers and exposed Harry's cock.

"Draco?"

Harry abandoned the talking idea because Draco's hot mouth closed over his cock and he realised he wouldn't be able to string more than two words together unless they consisted of "oh" and "yes." He tried not to thrust up into Draco's mouth but his thighs clenched when Draco's tongue wrapped around his cock and licked maddeningly up to the head before swirling over it repeatedly.

Harry reached out and snagged the waistband of Draco's trousers with his fingertips. "Closer," he managed and Draco shifted so that his arse was near Harry's shoulders and his cock within reach. Harry caressed it through the fabric of his trousers with one hand and used the other to yank Draco's shirt from the waistband. He splayed his hand over Draco's back.

Trying to unbutton trousers at an awkward angle whilst getting a brilliant blowjob was nearly impossible, Harry realised, so he Summoned his wand with a quick "Accio!" and then Vanished Draco's trousers and pants.

"Hey!"

"I'll buy you some new clothes. Did you know I'm rich?" Harry fixated on the sight of Draco's pale arse as he ran both hands over his creamy skin. Harry's fingertips slipped into the crack and brushed Draco's arsehole on the way down to his testicles; he gave them a gentle squeeze that earned a harsh sound from Draco.

"I suspected."

Harry's other hand wrapped around Draco's cock and he set about exploring the length of it. Draco resumed lapping at Harry's cock and he hoped he could keep his wits about himself long enough not to come quickly, because what Draco was doing felt amazing.

Draco seemed to know he was approaching the edge; he drew back, turned, and kissed Harry. He still wore his shirt and it drew over Harry's skin in a rough caress. He debated Vanishing it like the rest of Draco's clothing, but he sort of liked it. Instead he put his hands under the shirt and teased Draco's nipples.

"Do you want to—?"

"Yes, I very much want to," Harry replied. He wasn't even arsed about what went where. While the thought of fucking Draco was bloody brilliant, he was equally excited by the prospect of the reverse. And since Draco was already in position... Harry opened his legs encouragingly.

"I was afraid that when your memory returned you would recall that you liked ginger-haired females," Draco said although his hand travelled back down to clutch Harry's cock, possibly to remind him that blond blokes were to be preferred.

"I have a wide range of preferences, apparently," Harry replied, "but so far none of them can hold a candle to one person that I fancy."

"I see. Anyone I know?"

"Maybe," Harry said and kissed him. "Sometimes he goes by Malcolm."

"Malcom? I hear he's brilliant and amazing in the sack."

Harry chuckled and then gasped when Draco's hand sped up on his cock. It was suddenly slick and warm.

"Wandless lubrication charm? I am impressed, Malcolm."

"You haven't seen anything yet." With that almost-threat, Draco straddled Harry and then sat on his cock, sliding it into himself as easily as a knife through butter. Harry nearly cried out at the unexpected sensation, so hot, tight, and beyond anything he'd imagined.

"I expected that to be more difficult," he admitted.

"I've been fucking myself with a conjured toy twice a day since you washed up on my doorstep," Draco admitted. "Trust me when I say I'm well-prepared."

"I... would like to see that one day," Harry admitted and then nearly bit through his lip when Draco began to move, lifting himself and dropping down, grinding and shifting his hips in a way that slowly drove Harry mad. His cock peeped out from beneath the shirt in a tempting display that made Harry wish he was flexible enough to taste it.

He settled for casting his own charm and slathering Draco's cock with scented oil, probably irretrievably destroying Draco's shirt. He supposed a trip back to Blaise's shop might be in order.

Draco threw his head back and made a gasping cry, driving all thought of clothing and Blaise Zabini from Harry's mind. For long, long minutes he thought of nothing beyond the amazing sensations building along his nerve endings, spiralling out from his cock with every driving movement Draco made.

Harry's hands shook as he stroked, trying not to be lost in what Draco was doing to him. He wanted Draco come—and then he was, ruining the shirt even more and spilling hot and wet onto Harry's knuckles. That, combined with the hoarse cry and increasingly frantic motion sent Harry over the edge. His hips thrust upwards roughly, once, twice, and then his toes curled and his own involuntary shout rang into the room.

Draco sagged over him, pressed a sweat-smudged kiss against his lips, and then collapsed next to him.

"You were right," Harry murmured, "that Malcolm fellow is bloody fantastic. I think I'll keep him."

"Quite right you will."

"Does that mean you're moving in?"

"That's a big step. I might have to think about it."

"I promise to be nice to your parents."

"Do you promise not to cut your hair?"

Harry blinked in surprised. He had been thinking about cutting it as soon as his memories had returned, despite the fact that his new attributes had become familiar. "You like my hair?"

"You look like my Harry Potter now, and not theirs."

"I've never been theirs, Draco. I've only ever been mine."

"And now you're mine."

Harry chuckled. "I suppose I am."

Draco yawned and snuggled even closer. "What happened to your glasses, anyway?"

"I had them fixed at St Mungo's a year and a half ago. A new spell. It's lucky I did or I'd have been staggering around short-sighted in Spain."

"And you wouldn't have fallen for my astonishing good looks."

"Malcolm's astonishing good looks," Harry reminded him and Draco poked him in the ribs with a finger. He added, "but I'm pretty sure I would have fallen for you if I'd been blind as a bat."

"Well, if you're going to be that complimentary, then I suppose I'll move in with you. On one more condition."

"And that is?"

"Sex twice a day. Minimum."

Harry discovered he was already ready for another round.

"I think I can live with that," he said and pounced.

~FINISHED~

Now I remember why I never post these chapters all at once. *flops* :D