The nightmares come in pieces.

Flames. Burning homes. The crackling and hissing of fire roaring in his ears – echoing in a disorientating way. The air is hot and heavy – searing his lungs - hurts to breathe -

Draco gasps and turns on the tap, splashing water onto his face. It's just another nightmare. It isn't real. He wills himself to look up at the mirror.

His arm burns in calling. When he looks down, pulling up his sleeve, there on pale skin a snake slithers out of a skull, ever so slowly towards him.

He pales, grasping the porcelain sink with both hands as they begin to tremble. He can barely see his reflection. He's beginning to feel faint – he's beginning to-

Someone's watching him. Past the smoke, he can vaguely make out the white mask beneath a hood. A knife is held in his hand, scarlet drops dripping from its blade.

Draco stumbles to get away from him but he can't. The flames are catching and there's nowhere to run. But the Death Eater doesn't move, he only points to a spot beyond, his knife jutting towards a fallen figure on debris.

He sees her instantly. She's clutching at her chest as red spills between her pale fingers. He runs to her, falls next to her. "Mother!" She tries to look at him, but her gaze is unfixed. She struggles to speak; the words drowning in the crackling of flames. "Mum, I'm here," he groans, grasping her hand. She sees him then – and then stops. Her stare into nothing looks through him as her hand goes limp in his.

Draco wakes up on cool tiles, drenched in sweat and trembling. He doesn't even cover his face when he begins to cry; grateful for darkness.

Harry holds a plate a food close to him, not intending to touch it. He looks around the Malfoy Hall, scanning between the guests for platinum, blond hair.

Luna's blonde head distracts him, and he stills when he sees who she's speaking with.

Pansy Parkinson, wearing a formal, black dress, is nodding politely at something Luna is saying. He shouldn't be surprised to see her here – she and Draco were close once - but it's still uncomfortable. The last time he saw her she made it perfectly clear whose side she was on: "Fucking Voldemort's," he mutters under his breath. Sensing his glare, she suddenly looks up at him and waves in a slow, deliberate way, a small smirk on her face.

He turns away from her in annoyance and catches sight of Ron and Hermione heading to the gardens. When he catches up to them, he hears bits of their conversation. "Remember the last time we were here?" Hermione is asking him quietly.

Ron notices him just then. "Hey – how's Malfoy holding up?" He discreetly takes a pastry from Harry's plate.

Harry frowns. "He's alright… his nightmares aren't getting any better." Draco started taking Dreamless Sleep Potion when they returned to Hogwarts, but Harry suspects that he's become immune to it. When Draco isn't keeping himself busy, burying in schoolwork or flying with Harry to the point of exhaustion, he wanders the grounds until morning. He does his best to avoid sleep, for when he closes his eyes all he sees are broken bones and blood and last breaths, of unbearable guilt that burns him.

"And… you two are alright?" She asks quietly, making sure that no one else hears.

Harry looks at her in surprise, unsure of how to answer that. Since they've returned, Draco's been understandably to himself… He doesn't want to be around anyone except Harry. Except that when he's with Harry, he keeps himself at a distance. He actively avoids touching him. A first Harry thought he was imagining this, but it became clear when Harry tried to pull him in and Draco, laughing, pushed away with a panic in his eyes. It was clear then, that Draco doesn't want to be close to him. Harry holds in a sigh, keeping his disappointment a secret. "Yeah - Things are just hard for him right now."

Ron takes another pastry and says, "So you still haven't snogged, huh?" Ron bites the pastry and offers half to Hermione, who shakes her head at him dully.

Harry's face falters. "I think he feels guilty after-" he stops himself just in time. He hasn't told his friends what Draco did to him moments before Hermione stunned him. "After everything." He catches Hermione's quick, inquisitive look but he pretends to be distracted by a peacock strutting by.

"That's understandable. He did go all psycho – ow!" Hermione glares at Ron after landing a blow on his arm. "He was a psycho!"

"For heaven's sake, Ronald," Hermione protests.

Ron shrugs in exasperation. "I'm not saying it was his fault, but he did a lot of shit. And he hasn't exactly apologized," he mumbles under his breath.

"I know." Harry sighs. "He does feel bad, y'know. He just… he doesn't know how to approach you. I think it would help if he didn't think you hated him. Maybe if you actually called him 'Draco'…?"

"Augh – that's asking a bit much." Ron attempts to take the bloody sandwich from his plate but Harry dodges his hand.

"I'll give you one bite of this sandwich if you just say his name."

The familiar creak of his door, the sound of his boots over the hardwood floor, the way his bed sinks beneath his weight, all of this welcomes Draco Malfoy back home.

Except none of it feels familiar. It feels like he's floating through someone else's memories; everything blurry around the edges, like he's not quite here. Like this isn't the house he grew up in, or the room he slept in as a child. Like he never fell asleep under this canopy that's enchanted to imitate the skies above. Looking now, all he sees are puffy, white clouds floating in a piercing, blue skies.

He doesn't think of all the things that have happened here. He doesn't think of everyone that has passed through these walls… he only thinks of how he's the last one. He's the rightful heir, the last of the Malfoy lineage. The Manor will be passed down to him on his eighteenth birthday – but alas - In a few short days the Ministry will take it away. Harry says he'll get it back but he knows better. Draco Malfoy, by all definition, is homeless.

His family cared for and managed this property for twenty generations. This is a fact he was expected to know from an early age. What does it say about him that he's the last of the line and the first to lose the Malfoy Manor? Today is his last day here. Today he's supposed to say goodbye to the only life he's ever known. He closes his eyes, the sinking feeling of regret pressing him to the bed. He could drown in it, in all his regrets, in all his excuses, in all the ways he could have been better - all the things he could have done. He lets himself not move for a while – sinking deeper - nearly giving in. Wouldn't it be nice to give in? For just a little? To not struggle, not care, not fight for every moment. To sleep. To not even dream as he plunges into sweet, empty slumber.

A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts, making him sit up quickly on his bed. He combs his fingers through his hair hastily, hoping he doesn't look as shitty as he feels.

Harry pokes his head through the door, his hair all a disarray and expression solemn. "There you are-" he says as greeting. He closes the door behind him and approaches him with a sad plate of food. "I er… got you something to eat - but-"

Draco takes it and blinks once. "Got hungry on the way up?" he asks, noticing the singular, aggressive bite mark in his sandwich.

Harry offers him a guilty smile. "There's much better stuff being served downstairs. You wanna come down and check?"

Draco gives him a contemplative look. "No."

Harry watches him as he runs his hand messily through his hair. Placing the plate down on the corner of the bed, he lingers a moment by Draco's feet. When he sits beside him, he exhales slowly. "I know this is really hard but you should come down. Maybe – read that speech you've prepared?" He's talking about her eulogy. Draco has one prepared. "It would help… to say goodbye." He was supposed to say it earlier, before the food was served, but his throat closed up during the burial and he's sure the words will catch if he tries to speak.

He avoids Harry's gaze now when he says, "Maybe you can read it for me."

"Draco-"

"I can't. I just can't. It'd be like a lie… Like I was there for her. Like I fucking deserve to say something. I should have – I could have-" He presses his clenched fists into his lap, denying a tremor. "I could have saved her."

"You don't know that."

"It's my fault-"

"No, it is not." Harry stresses. "What could you have done that wouldn't have put you in danger?"

"I didn't even try!" he snaps. When Harry touches his back he stands up quickly, needing the space. Draco walks to the window, folds his arms tightly as he scowls at the blue sky.

Sympathy makes Harry's voice quiet. "You weren't yourself – you can't blame yourself for that." He gets up to stand next to him, keeping a bit of distance now. "Draco – what happened - You can't change any of it. You can only do your best now. So…" Harry offers out his hand for him to take. "Come on. You'd hate yourself if you didn't do this. Trust me."

Draco tries to swallow the lump in his throat as he takes Harry's hand, letting himself be dragged away.

Their feet echo in the long and lonely corridors of the Malfoy Manor. The endless portraits of former Malfoys look down at them with mixed looks of outrage and indifference. Harry can make out hints of Draco's features in his ancestors, of fleeting expressions he's grown to know so well.

Harry trails his hand lazily over the old paint of the corridors, feeling the bumps under his fingertips as he walks alongside Draco. Turning to glance at him, he catches Draco staring.

"What?"

"What were you thinking?"

Of this house. Of all the things Draco must have lived. Of Draco growing up here - every corner reminding him of a legacy, of his significance. "Just - what it must have been like – to have all this…" Harry gestures vaguely about him, unable to find the words. "More than you being filthy rich, but being a Malfoy, y'know?" Draco raises an eyebrow. "You probably know more about your family history than anyone. Like – who else can talk to their ancestors on a regular basis?"

Draco shrugs. "They all seemed like a bunch of crazy narcissists to me."

"Yeah, well - That's besides the point." He smiles when he catches Draco's lips twitch. "It's just kinda nice. It reminds you that they all lived once. They walked through these corridors too..." Harry begins to feel silly when Draco's expression changes to bemusement. He's not explaining himself very well. He wishes he had something like this growing up. He wishes he knew the stories of his family, wishes he could trace back his lineage, walk the same corridors of his ancestors. "It's just – you know exactly where you come from. They all lived- had to survive – for you to be here today. You're literally an embodiment of what they achieved - of all their hopes and dreams."

Draco gives him a sidelong glance, his silver gaze nearly stopping Harry in his tracks. "I think I know what you mean," he says earnestly. He then cocks his chin to point out the next portrait in their path. "This was my great, great, grandmother. She often brags about bathing in muggleborn blood," he says this matter-of-factly.

Harry looks at him in horror, before he notices the way Draco's face twitches in amusement. "You're an absolute prat," he replies.

Draco chuckles and Harry savours it. "It's why you love me."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he replies automatically, nodding his head slowly as practiced.

Another random person he doesn't know. Why are these people even here? It's not like they were around when his family needed them most – but a small voice in his head reminds him it isn't their fault. His family isolated themselves by the very standards they held, by the very things that happened within these walls. So, he shakes all their hands and holds a polite and solemn expression when he thanks them.

Raising a glass to his lips, he takes a sip to appear normal.

"I hope that's your first," a cool, feminine voice says behind him. He almost smiles as he turns to face her. "I only ever knew you as a lightweight."

Pansy Parkinson looks how he remembers her: the same resting-bitch face that she mastered back when she was eleven and the same black hair tucked behind her ears. Only she's grown it out since he last saw her and her face is pinched, as if she's trying hard not to let something show.

"Pansy -" he says quietly. "It takes a funeral to see you?"

Pansy doesn't even bother saying anything before she wraps her arms around him and pulls him into a tight hug. Hugging her back, it's shocking how he's missed her. "Draco - I couldn't believe it." Draco pats her back, swallowing the lump growing in his throat. "I'm so sorry," she says.

He nods and she steps back, clutching his arm. He takes another purposeful sip from his drink. "I didn't think you'd come."

She frowns at him and begins to tug at his arm, pulling him away from the crowd. "Come – we need to talk."

"I can't - I'm supposed to-"

"Hush. Your boyfriend has it covered."

He looks at her quickly. "How did you-"

"It's obvious. Dating Potter!" She's taking him up the stairs, away from the crowd. As they ascend, he realizes she's taking him to a favourite spot of theirs: the West Balcony. "I know you've always had a crush on The Chosen One but what the hell?"

He glares at her. "How many times have I told you that I didn't-?"

"I nearly pissed myself from laughter when I found out."

"How did you even find out?" he asks her, watching as she fumbles through her purse, searching for – ahh, of course.

She takes out a joint and lights it up. "I have a source," she mumbles around the spliff before she takes a long, slow drag, letting the smoke settle in her lungs. When she exhales it's a long line of smoke out to the darkening sky.

She offers him the joint and he hesitates. Normally it wouldn't be a big deal, but he hasn't in months and people are still downstairs and he doesn't think Harry would approave and fuck it - he can't bear another moment of this shitty day so why not?

He takes the joint from her, ignoring the stab of guilt he feels, and holds it between his fingers. Draco straightens to inhale just one breath – and then on impulse another. He wonders how long it's been when he feels the sting in his lungs. He lets the smoke settle and leans forward, already beginning to feel the space around him echo. He closes his eyes and time seems to slow and stretch around him. Beginning to feel lightheaded, he lets out a smooth, long breath of white smoke. He lets it float away into that damned, blissful sky.

He offers the joint back to her. A silence falls between them that is almost uncomfortable. He avoids looking at her, keeping his expression impassive, when he asks, "Where have you been?"

She takes the spliff from him. "France."

"Lovely."

The tension between them thickens as smoke escapes within a sigh. "I did offer to take you- if you remember."

"It was tempting – but you know I couldn't." At her snort he says defensively, "I had things to do. Not everyone can afford to not give a fuck like some."

She scoffs, his words not having the anticipated effect. "Look, I get it – you had things to sort out. But I couldn't stick around. When everyone knows you as the-bitch-who-wanted-to-kill-the-boy-who-lived, you don't have many options. How's that going for you, by the way? Being on the Golden Boy's good graces."

She's digging. He smirks and swirls the drink in his hand. "Why should I tell you?" Tilting his face back, he chugs the rest of his drink, the warmth of firewhisky burning in his chest and sinking into his empty stomach. He leans forward onto the balcony, already beginning to feel more than relaxed. "You've been gone too long," he admits.

"I'm-" she doesn't ever apologize- it's not her way. "I'm a piece of shit – you already know that."

"What are you not telling me?" The quick glimpse of shock is nearly impossible to catch – but he knows her too well. He watches in amusement as she gives him her practiced 'I don't know what you're talking about' face. It's almost convincing but she isn't blinking, only giving the impression of sincerity. "You know far too much for someone who's been away for a year." He smirks wickedly at her evident discomfort. "What is dear Pansy hiding?"

"I've been back for months, alright?" She flicks the joint and ashes fall to the ground. "I ran out of funds. Been staying with family. That's not nearly as scandalous as to what you've been up to."

He loves how impatient she's becoming. She's dying to know what happened, how this thing between him and Harry is even possible. "What do you think I've been upto?"

She smiles slyly now. "In some insane world – you and Potter are an item."

"That pretty much sums it up."

Pansy stares at him, waiting for more. After a moment- "And…?"

He shrugs. "And what?"

"You shagging him?"

Draco grins slyly at her. "That's none of your concern."

"I'll take that as a no. So you're like – inlove with him?"

He arches an eyebrow at that. The Pansy he knows doesn't talk about such things. She doesn't believe in love. To mention it is a joke. So now he can't help but smile and say, "I guess so - Is it obvious?"

When the doors to the balcony open suddenly, he jolts and stands up straighter. Harry, Luna, Ron and Hermione step awkwardly into the balcony. Some of Ronald's drink sloshes onto the floor.

Both Pansy and Hermione snort and then look at each other in horror. Luna on the other hand, walks up to Pansy and as if continuing in mid-sentence, carries on a conversation with her. If Pansy is surprised she doesn't let it show, but he and Harry exchange a 'what-the-fuck' glance.

Harry smiles as he walks to stands next to Draco on the balcony. He stands close enough so that their hands nearly touch on the railing, but still he feels too far away. It's strange, how Draco wants him closer and further away at the same time. Harry leans into the balcony, his hands twisting the railings. "Your speech was beautiful," he says to him.

His hand twitches nearer to Harry's. "Thanks."

Out of the corner of his eye he notices the others, how Pansy's stance is rigid and confident, but she's fiddling with the joint between her fingers, a nervous tick. When he catches Hermione staring at him and Harry, she offers a light smile before looking away. Ronald is looking between Luna and Pansy in confusion, before he glares at her joint and says. "Parkinson, are you going to share that or not?"

To the Weasel's credit, Pansy looks surprised. She smirks and passes it wordlessly to him. Hermione, who doesn't seem bothered by her boyfriend's request, only looks shocked when Pansy asks her if she still holds the title for 'top nerd at Hogwarts.'

Weas- Ronald laughs and says "yes, obviously, she's the top of her class."

"How surprising…" Draco catches Pansy's light sarcasm but she drops it quickly. "But good for you - really."

It surprises him, that Pansy can (almost) be civil to the people she hated most in school. It's even more surprising that they're indulging her and not turning away. It's a strange thing to witness – this group of people mingling, almost tolerating each other's presence. He can still sense some of Hermione's reservation and Ronald's general impatience, even a little bit of fear from Pansy, but the fact that they're trying makes him feel grateful.

"Did you know Draco's had a crush on Potter since he was eleven?" Pansy asks loudly, to which Hermione laughs delightfully.

Harry stills, before turning to look at him.

Draco glares at Pansy, refusing to look at Harry. "I did not have a crush on Potter - ow!" Harry pokes him hard and he deflates a bit. "I mean – I didn't have a crush on Harry." He can't help but smile just a bit.

"Oh my god, just snog already," Pansy exclaims.

"Please do not! I mean – not in my face," Ron groans.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione interjects. "Everyone wants to see Harry and Draco kiss." Luna nods, while everyone else turn to look at Hermione in shock. She straightens up indignantly. "I only mean – as a supportive friend."

Ronald gives her a suspicious look and Pansy laughs. The air seems to warm between them, making Draco feel lighter for the first time in days.

After some time, it's Luna who breaks the almost comfortable setting, her blue eyes intently on him. "Did you really die?" she asks. Ronald coughs and Pansy ogles at her in disbelief. Hermione has the grace to look away in embarrassment.

But Draco merely chuckles. "Yeah – I suppose so."

"What was it like?" Luna asks, to which Pansy throws her a glare.

"Don't be daft - Draco doesn't want to-"

"It was painless- effortless really," he replies without thinking.

No one knows what to say to that. It's uncomfortable to associate those words with death – especially today. Harry then adds in a quiet voice, "it's quicker and easier than falling asleep." Draco nearly takes Harry's hand then, nearly forgets he isn't supposed to.

Luna nods thoughtfully and Pansy gives him a strange look.

Several drinks and embarrassing stories later, after his friends have apparated away, only Harry remains. They stay on the balcony, silently watching the skies before them.

"How you feel?" As soon as Harry asks, he winces. They both know the answer to that.

Draco shrugs lightly, his eyes fixed on the setting sun. Draco waits for the pain to disappear with the last rays of light, but as his eyes begin to grow heavy, he knows he'll fall asleep thinking of her. She's in every memory attached to this place: her graceful walk across the grounds, the way she lit the room with her quick wit and charm, or when she worried, as she did so often in the end, how she'd speak decisively, hiding her worst fears far better than him.

Now he can only see her absence, only hear the silence that creates. The overwhelming truth – that she's gone- feels like an open wound in his chest. "All I want to do is forget. Just sleep – forever." His face twists until he's sure it's cracked in half. The pain spills through and Draco angles his face away from Harry.

Harry wraps an arm around him, pulling him close to kiss the side of his head. Draco's too tired to shy away from his touch. Or maybe tonight, he's allowing himself to have this. "You can sleep – but not forever. I'd miss you if it were forever."

They both spot the snitch at the same time. When they both move instinctively to catch it, Draco matches his speed, so close to him that their shoulder nearly touch. Draco bumps his shoulder into his, which only makes Harry shove back harder, trying to get him off the trail. But at this precise moment the snitch chooses to dip at a severe angle, giving Draco the advantage. Draco moves quickly after it.

The snitch now accelerates to the ground, plunging itself low so that the pair of them are rushing head first after it. The Quidditch pitch is meeting them fast and Draco still has a slight advantage. Yet the snitch doesn't change its course, even when the ground seems to come rushing at them. Draco flips himself up to avoid colliding into it. Harry vaguely hears him shout above him when he doesn't do the same.

His fingertips graze over the ground when he closes his hand around the snitch. He barely has enough time to get himself up - but of course he manages so. The end of his broom catches on the pitch, causing him to nearly crash. He flies out and lands clumsily on his feet, laughing as the pebbles scatter around his boots.

Draco lands next to him and snaps, "You fucking idiot. You could have killed yourself!"

Harry smiles at him. "It's nice to know you care." He tries not to look smug as he shows him the snitch fisted in his right hand.

Draco's expression doesn't change one bit. "I'm serious. That was really close." He looks up at the sky then, his expression made of stone. "It looks like rain - let's continue tomorrow-" he says tersely.

He turns to leave and Harry catches his arm. "We've only just started… Are you actually angry?" Even as he says this, the first drops of rain begin to fall around them, some hitting his face. He glances up himself, making out the tumultuous clouds above them.

Draco takes his arm away possessively. "I'm not angry," Draco say lightly. "It's just annoying – slightly infuriating - how reckless you are." He begins to walk away.

Balancing the firebolt on his shoulder, he peers at Draco through wet lenses. "Let's grab a drink at Hogsmeade - you can yell at me then."

Draco laughs dryly. "Tempting - but I have work to do."

Harry steps in front of him, keeping him from going any further. "It's Friday - you can take a break."

"I don't think so, Harry." He sidesteps him to walk away.

"We could study in the library then." He knows Draco will have another excuse not to. Draco's been full of excuses as of late. But Draco's not looking back to see if Harry's following. "I mean - if you want me there."

Draco stops in his tracks and turns to look at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing - forget it." They're properly getting wet now, the rain beginning to fall hard. He's grateful for it, hoping it hides his disappointment. He steps beside Draco in resentful silence, but Draco isn't moving anymore.

Draco shakes his head once, suddenly looking contrite. "Look - I'm sorry I've been so-" Harry peers at him. Even through the rain he can see memories stirring in silver. "I just… I remember-" The words catch in his throat and he scowls at himself. Harry doesn't say anything, only waits for him to continue. But Draco sways away from him, his eyes not quite meeting his.

"What do you remember?" he presses.

Draco opens his mouth but closes it quickly.

Harry edges towards him. "What?"

"I remember you telling me to stop - it plays over in my head."

"That wasn't your fault."

"I raped you!" Harry's stomach drops at the word. "Every time we touch I remember." Draco avoids his gaze again, and Harry can see his features darkening. Harry tries to step towards him but Draco edges away. "When you're too close..." He swallows. "I'm just giving you some space, alright?"

"I don't want space!" Harry says, not letting him leave. "I want-" He doesn't need to say it. They both know it. But Harry's misses him so much it hurts. Draco tries to shrug him off but Harry catches his arm tightly.

"What do you want?" Draco asks.

He looks back at Draco, taking in his hesitation. Yet below his fear lies something that has Harry edging close to him, memorizing him; the rain cascading off his chin, his lips parted in waiting, and then those eyes - specks of amber painted on silver – regarding him intently - making a warmth rush to Harry's skin. "I want you-" he begins.

Draco doesn't let him finish. He pulls Harry in by the front of his robes into a greedy kiss that tastes of rain.

Draco stops at the bottom of the stairs, his hand loosely in Harry's. Harry looks back at him, already a step above him, with a questioning look.

"This is a bad idea… you should go on without me."

Harry tugs at his hand. "Come on, it'll be fine."

Draco follows him stiffly up the stairs to a door with some sort of screen in it. "What if…?" He swallows. "-She wants nothing to do with me?"

"She does, I'm sure." Harry opens the first door, the ugly one with the screen, before he knocks on the white wooden door.

Draco already feels his palms begin to sweat, and upon hearing footsteps, he squeezes Harry's hand before letting it go, wiping it against his trousers to get the dampness off.

When the door swings open, he recognizes her immediately. She looks like his mother except with brown hair and more wrinkles around her eyes. She smiles at them both, but her eyes linger on Draco.

"Hello, Andromeda," Harry says as he hands her a small bouquet of lilies. "Thank you for inviting us."

Her face lights up as she takes the flowers. "You shouldn't have…" Her gaze lands on Draco again and he gives her a fixed, polite smile. "I'm glad you came," she says to him.

Draco thrusts his hand out, grateful his voice is steady when he says, "it's nice to see you again, Aunt Andromeda." They've met once before – at the funeral. "I'm excited to meet Teddy."

She's far more expressive than his mother, as evident by her fleeting surprise as she takes his hand and shakes it. The handshake is awkward and Draco wonders if it was a mistake, until she pulls him in with a brief, "oh, come here…" She steps outside to give him a tight hug.

Draco stills, giving Harry a panicked look. But he's smiling at him and Draco lets himself relax. He moves his arms around her shoulders and hugs her back. When she doesn't let go, he finds himself imagining this is how his mother would have hugged him if he had seen her one last time.

She steps back with a cheerful smile, even as her eyes are shining. Harry steps in to give her his own hug and Draco's shocked to see her wipe her damp eyes.

"You must think I'm silly," she says, as she gestures for them to follow her inside. "It's just…" she gives Draco an affectionate smile. "You remind me strongly of Narcissa." Draco swallows the lump in his throat and manages to smile back. "Come in already! It's smoldering out here."

When she walks in, Harry is first to follow. Draco walks through the doorway and feels protective charms tickle his skin. She's already leading Harry to another room for tea. The distant sounds of a toddler can be heard coming from within.

But he's distracted by the collection of both muggle and wizard photos alike, hung up on the walls on either side of him. Most of these people he doesn't know – but he does recognize his late cousin with her bubble-gum pink hair. And then an old one – faded by the years – catches his eye. Three young girls sit in a garden wearing white dresses and fancy, funny hats. The youngest of the three, a blonde, is being tickled by her sisters.

"Are you coming?" Harry asks quietly, waiting for him at the end of the hall.

He looks at him and nods. With a smile, he closes the door behind him.

A/N: Ahh - so much to say. I guess- I took a break from writing and I'm done with that. Back at it and will be posting Book 2 very shortly. There are so many things left unexplained and so many things to explore that I can't bear to end it this way. So I hope you're happy, reader. As always, please leave a review if you can. I'm basically addicted to them.

Thanks for reading! Also, special shout out to Sam, who helped with editing.