Draco's clothes were too uncomfortable to put back on. Harry was built solidly, and the slim-cut trousers cut into his waist just enough to be unpleasant. He padded nude down the hall to the guest room and found the clothes he'd worn on his first arrival, cleaned and folded at the end of the bed. Lying on top was a folded strip of scrap paper with unfamiliar handwriting on it.

"Serve God, love me, and mend."

Below it were scribbled notes that included a cipher and a partially translated spell. Harry remembered writing them down on his first afternoon in Malfoy Manor, back when the hand that wrote it was not his own. He folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket before stepping into his trainers and heading downstairs to the parlor.

Draco was waiting for him at the Floo, and although he tried to hold it back a smile spread across his face when Harry appeared in the doorway.

"Granger already sent an owl back," he said. "She's there right now, so we can drop by and see her anytime."

"And Ron?"

"She said Weasley is on his way down from the Auror office," Draco did a poor job concealing his opinion of Harry's friends. But he didn't openly insult them, which was promising.

"So let's go," Harry clapped his hand over his stomach as it fluttered with butterflies. "Strange, why am I nervous about going out in my own face?"

"Maybe you preferred being me," Draco suggested. "I assume it was a rather amazing experience. I should start offering it priced at a premium. Be Draco Malfoy for a day!"

"Ha ha, you think you're so hilarious," Harry snorted.

He snagged Draco's hand and reeled him in, then buried his nose in his collarbone so he could inhale his clean scent, just because he could. Just because he was allowed to.

"Come on," Draco pulled him to the Floo. "It's time to clear my good name."

A whirl of green flame and a fragment of a moment later, Harry stepped out into the Ministry Atrium and swiveled his head to check for familiar faces. A moment later Draco stepped out behind him and did the same. Harry seized his hand and they strode down the corridor towards the lifts.

Faces turned their way as they passed and he noticed how differently passers-by eyed him now as compared to before. As Draco he had felt like the object of disdain and distrust. As Harry he felt admiration and approval. He didn't like the difference.

"What are you doing?" Draco looked down at his arm, where Harry was linking elbows with him and pressing as close to him as he could.

"I don't like the way people look at you," Harry said. "I want people to see that you're with me. If they want to think positively of me, they'd better think positively of you."

They arrived at the lift and Harry nodded at a passing group of witches who eyed their intertwined arms with mixed approval.

"See, repairing your reputation already," Harry squeezed his hand.

Draco rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed, "Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without deserving."

"Well you deserve some of your reputation," Harry said. "But there's hope for you yet."

The lift arrived and they stepped in to be whisked off to the archives. When they arrived they walked out into a buzzing hive of activity. It seemed every historian wizard in England had been summoned to work on Voldemort's Shakespearean curses.

Harry ducked down a side aisle and hid in the stacks while Draco strode confidently down the centre to Old Paul's table. Hermione was sitting with him, scanning over lines of ledger text while Ron tapped his fingers and looked bored. Harry peeked between the books to watch.

Draco sat down in the chair between Hermione and Ron. "Hello."

"Oh Harry, look, Old Paul has figured out how the 'Romeo and Juliet' cypher unlocks your curse. See here," she tapped the page with her finger. Draco nodded and looked impressed.

"Where's Malfoy?" Ron lowered his voice and peered around. "Did he give up on helping you?"

"Of course not, why would I do such a thing?" Draco said.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, confusion etched between their brows. Hermione leaned forward and squinted at Draco, scanning his face for anything familiar. "Are you Harry or Malfoy?" she finally asked.

Draco leaned over to Ron and spoke sincerely, "She's doing it again. You really ought to get her checked out."

"Malfoy?" Ron leaned away. "What are you doing? Where's Harry?"

"Potter? He's right over there," he waved his hand negligently towards the stacks where Harry was hiding.

That was his cue. He stepped out from behind the bookcase and waved. "Hi."

"I don't know what's so confusing," Draco went on. "We don't resemble each other in the slightest."

Hermione shrieked and ran at Harry, totally disregarding archive policies about loud noises. Ron's chair clattered to the ground as he jumped up to tackle his friend, too.

"Okay, okay," he struggled to stay upright beneath the weight of their hugs. "I'm okay. It happened earlier this afternoon."

"How did it break?" Hermione led him over to the table to sit down. He wedged in between her and Draco.

"My only love sprung from my only hate," Old Paul's voice rustled like dry leaves. "True love breaks the curse."

"True love—" Hermione cut herself off. "You?" she asked Draco. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Given that it broke a Shakespearian curse, I'd say it makes more sense than you think," Draco replied.

"But you hate him," Ron was nakedly confused.

"I did," Harry nodded. He scooped up Draco's hand and held it to his heart. "But not anymore."

"I suppose," Hermione shrugged. Her eyes tracked their clasped hands like they were creatures to be studied. "And do you love Harry back?"

"The curse confirmed it," Draco nodded. "That's what broke the spell."

"I don't know what to say," she sat back in her chair.

"Just say you're happy for us," Harry couldn't quite keep the plaintive note out of his voice.

Hermione shook her head sharply and smiled. "I am happy for you. I'm sorry, it's just a lot to absorb at once. We should celebrate."

"Let's get a pint," Ron said. "I need a drink to understand all of this."

"That sounds just about right," Draco rose to his feet. "No time like the present."

"You go ahead to the lift," Harry said. "I want to speak to Old Paul for a moment."

His friends agreed and filed down the aisle between the shelves. Old Paul looked up expectantly from his parchments.

"I hope we didn't waste your time," Harry said. "It just sort of happened. I hope you didn't spend long working on deciphering my curse."

"They all need to be deciphered," Old Paul shrugged his thin shoulders.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry dug into his pocket. "This is from 'Much Ado About Nothing.' I understand the archive has its own deciphered copy but this is from Voldemort's ledger. Can you tell me what the spell is?"

"Ah yes," Old Paul peered down his nose at the paper. "I see the Dark Lord dismissed it as useless. It requires weakness, he says," he chuckled knowingly. "This is an incredibly powerful healing spell."

"It is?" Harry sat up in surprise. "I assumed it was healing, but I didn't think one line could be very powerful."

"Incredibly powerful," the elderly man repeated. "It isn't the length of the line that matters, it's the love between whomever casts it and whomever receives it. Cast in the name of truest love, it could heal the gravest wound." His eyes twinkled. "Very powerful."

"Do you have the translation?" Harry's breath hung in his throat.

"I do," Old Paul lifted a quill and scratched a short phrase on the scrap of paper. "Fully deciphered, this is how it reads."

"Diligentibus serviamus sanus," Harry read. "What is the wand gesture?"

"For this spell," Old Paul touched the page, "no wand is necessary. If the love is there, the wound will heal."

"Thank you," Harry looked at the paper in his hand and chewed his lip. He looked up and saw Old Paul was smiling with tears in his eyes.

"No," the old man said. "Thank you. You've brought us the ciphers and given me closure on a lifetime of work. I am forever in your debt."

"You're welcome," Harry said. "But Draco Malfoy is the one who deserves the credit. When you tell people who brought in the ciphers please say it was him, not me."

"As you like it," Old Paul smiled.

Harry shook his hand and headed for the lift, for his best friends and the man he loved. A few rounds at a pub sounded just about perfect and he couldn't wait to see the world again through his own two eyes. It was a luxury he'd never expected to miss.

oOo

Harry and Draco stared up at the ceiling, their energy spent and their bodies thrumming with pleasure. The evening light slanted through the drapes and the the smell of supper cooking wafted up the stairs.

Harry laid his head on Draco's shoulder and traced his fingers up and down his chest, skipping over the dip of his Sectumsempra scar each time.

"I'm sorry I marked you," he said sadly. "I wish I could go back in time and stop myself from throwing that curse."

"I've already forgiven you, Potter," Draco said. He drew lazy circles on Harry's back with his fingertips.

"Would you let me see if I can heal it?" Harry pushed up on his elbow.

"It is healed," Draco yawned. "It's just scarred."

"I mean, perhaps I can heal your scar."

"You can't heal a Sectumsempra scar," Draco said. "Believe me, I've tried."

"Would you let me try?" Harry asked. "I think I could do it."

"Whatever makes you happy, Potter." Draco laid back and closed his eyes. "As long as it doesn't make us late for supper."

"It's brief," Harry assured him.

He held his hand over Draco's chest and concentrated. He thought about the past few days and the love he'd discovered between himself and his former enemy. He thought about the way they had turned hate into love and broken a curse with nothing more than the connection between their hearts. He felt himself warm at the thought of that connection.

"What is it?" Draco's brow furrowed. "You're blushing."

Harry smiled gently and kissed Draco, just once, but with as much affection as he could communicate in a single kiss.

"I love you, Malfoy," he said.

"I love you, too, Potter."

Harry felt like his heart might burst with joy. He held his hand above the scar and focused on that feeling, that incredible feeling of loving and being loved. Of what a gift that was.

"Diligentibus serviamus sanus," he said.

The warmth coalesced in his arm, traveled down his fingers, and radiated out of his hand. Before their eyes the taut silvery scar tissue that sliced shoulder to hip across Draco's body rippled and repaired, closing up and sealing without so much as a seam left behind.

Draco gawked at his chest, his eyes wide and disbelieving. His fingers slipped across his body, searching for evidence of the scar but finding nothing but perfectly smooth skin.

"Potter," he gasped. "How did you do that?"

"I didn't," Harry said. "We did it. I couldn't have done it if you didn't love me back." He ducked his head. "I was a bit worried that it wouldn't work, but I just had to trust that this is real."

Draco drew Harry's head down to his shoulder and curled his arms around him. For several moments he was speechless and simply buried his nose in Harry's hair. When he finally spoke his voice was so soft that Harry nearly missed it.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt my love."

THE END