Chapter 15: A Final Nudge

There was no alarm that woke the seventh year students – or at least none besides the personal charms affixed to their wands. No thrumming enchantment pervaded every seniors' mind as an alert on that day, the most important day of a student's life, the penultimate morning of their academic career.

And yet somehow, each woke with disturbing synchrony.

Draco groaned as he swam from his own sleep. It was dark in the dormitory, the depths of the dungeons not yet disturbed by artificial light, and yet he woke. Face scrunching, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut before blinking them open.

The deep green of his curtains. The dark wood of the frame. The plush pillow beneath his cheek that he'd long ago disregarded any embarrassment for drooling all over. Blaise still attempted to tease him on occasion, but those occasions were usually when he'd forgotten that Draco didn't give a shit about what he said.

Draco wasn't thinking about drool, however. Far from it, in fact, for when his blurred gaze cleared and focused, it settled upon Harry at his side. That sight was certainly worth being distracted by.

What existed between Draco and Harry was alive. It was fiery and constantly in motion, was a leap between banter one moment and passion the next. The Truths and Dares that had faded to joking tests and 'pop quizzes' were always interlaced with jibes, and it was enjoyable. For Draco, it was fun in a way that he'd never experienced before; not with Pansy or Blaise, and certainly not with Crabbe and Goyle before them.

Harry was fun. And warm. And bright, and smirking, or laughing, or rolling his eyes and rebuffing Draco's words with the kind of sarcastic, snide remarks that Draco thrived upon. And he loved it. But at that moment, as he watched Harry to the background murmur of Blaise and Theo's barely discernible awakening, it was different.

Harry wasn't glowing. He wasn't pulling a face or throwing a verbal blow. He wasn't poking Draco's face as he was want to do, or deliberately ignoring him as he pretended – was it pretend? – to on frequent occasion when he 'zoned out'. Draco was still being ignored, but it was a little hard not to be when Harry was asleep.

He looked soft. Younger than he did when he was awake. Non-confrontational, which was remarkable given that it was Harry. Draco stared at him as he often did when they slept together and he happened to wake up first – which was a rare enough occasion. He stared at the flop of his fringe not quite covering his face, his pale cheeks, his hand curled on the pillow just in front of his chin. Draco's eyes traced along the spider's web of scars around his eyes that both infuriated and fascinated him, and wasn't surprised when the urge to touch them arose and overwhelmed him.

They were… curious. A little enchanting. And they always would be, even with what they stood for.

Draco was trailing his fingers along a thin line of them, curling just beneath an eyebrow, when Harry shifted in his sleep. He sighed, drew a deep breath, and grumbled something unintelligible before peeling his eyes open. The usual glow of them, the familiar, ethereal green that Draco attributed to his magical Sight, seemed almost luminescent in the darkness of his confined four-poster.

When Harry drew his gaze to meet Draco's, it was to immediately smile. Draco loved that. He loved that he was the first thing Harry saw when he woke in the morning, and that simply by seeing him, Harry would smile.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

"Hey," Harry replied just as quietly. "Have you just been lying there watching me?"

"Pretty much."

"For how long?"

"All night," Draco lied.

Harry huffed a sleepy little laugh. "Creeper. You should be sleeping at night like a normal person."

"I've never claimed to be normal."

"Oh, I know."

"And besides, there's no reason I have to sleep." Draco shifted, edging across the distance between them until they were nearly pressed against one another, chest to chest. The mingled morning breath wasn't particularly pleasant, but Draco withstood it out of necessity. Some things were worth it, after all. "It's not like I have any intention of actually passing my exams."

Far from smirking and teasing as Draco almost expected, Harry's smile died slightly. He stared at Draco with a solemn expression for a moment before seemingly absently biting his lip.

"What?" Draco asked, dropping his hand from Harry's face to his fist where it still curled on his pillow. He'd never really understood the interest some people had in hand holding until it was Harry's hand he held.

"Just thinking," Harry said.

"That's dangerous. Should I put up blast shield? Are we expecting a nuclear explosion from the energy required to –?"

"Shut up," Harry said, smiling, but his words were only quiet. It could have been from sleepiness, but for some reason, Draco didn't think it was. Even less so Harry sighed a little, twisting his hand in Draco's to lace their fingers. "You don't?"

"Don't what?" Draco asked, absently raising their locked hands to his lips to kiss the back of Harry's knuckles. He liked that it always caused Harry to smile; that reason would be good enough to do so if none other existed.

"You don't intend to pass your exams?" Harry clarified.

Draco met his eyes. He frowned. "I'm pretty sure we've already concluded that neither of us are actually going to be able to pass, right?"

"Right," Harry said slowly.

"So you're asking… why?"

"Just clarifying," Harry said with a slight shrug.

"Clarifying?"

"Just thinking."

"Again, dangerous."

Draco spoke less teasingly this time, however. For whatever reason, despite his persisting smile, Harry was oddly thoughtful. Though Draco might tease him that he was otherwise, he knew Harry was smart. Very smart, even, and not just because he was magically strong, or more in tune with that magic than likely most people in the world would even consider possible. When Harry grew thoughtful, it was worth attending to those thoughts. That much, at least, Draco had learnt in his seventh year.

"What about?" he prompted.

Harry shrugged a shoulder. "The usual."

"Meaning?"

"Pondering what the fuck we're doing." Harry sighed, less sleepily and more pensively. His smile faded into the beginnings of a frown as his gaze fell to their joined hands. "Honestly, Draco, what the fuck are we doing?"

"Well," Draco said, lips brushing the back of Harry's hand once more, "we're following societal expectations by completing school."

"And?"

"And sitting narrow-minded and pedantic exams that essentially prove nothing."

"And?"

"And ticking a box." For a moment, Draco paused. Then he quoted as he, Pansy and Blaise had countless times in the first months of their seventh year, before Harry had even been a possibility. "We're going to finish the year, avoid the unnecessary, and survive to escape out the other side."

"The other side," Harry echoed. The contemplation in his tone was almost concerning. "What then?"

"Then?"

"On the other side. What then?"

Draco shifted to prop an arm under his head. Where Harry's sudden change of heart had come from, the seriousness that demanded they discuss this right now, he didn't know. But that hardly mattered; Harry got like that sometimes. Retrospective. Thoughtful. Detached as he zoned out and his mind wandered to where Draco couldn't quite reach. Draco didn't like it when that happened, but he'd resigned himself to such occurrences. It didn't seem like something that Harry was likely to change.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "You're being awfully solemn for a day that should be celebratory."

"Celebratory?" A ghost of a smile crossed Harry's lips. "I think most of the seventh year would beg to differ, what with all the exam nerves and such."

"Frivolous." Draco sniffed. "And pointless. But I digress. What do you mean?"

With another sigh, Harry propped himself onto his own elbow. "I mean," Harry said, "what happens after?"

"After the exams?"

"Yes, genius. I'm glad you're capable of making connections in basic thought processing."

Draco ignored the jab, and mostly because his mind was turned decidedly elsewhere. "What do you mean after? What happens with what?"

"With us," Harry said simply.

Draco stared. He hadn't really thought about an 'after' and an 'us', and not because it didn't matter. He'd considered his family name and family fortune – both significantly stained by the war to the point where he was contemplating discarding them both entirely – and about how both would hound him. He had lawyers and businessmen that he should be dealing with but had no intention of pursuing to so deal. He had families to make connections with to ground the Malfoy name and his own prestige in pureblood society that was growing less and less appealing with each passing day to the point that it seemed entirely pointless.

There were things to consider, and the least of them Draco's exams. Even less, however, was what would become of himself and Harry, because… there really was no two routes. Draco had decided that long ago.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked.

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You sound like a mindless oaf when you do that, you know." Then he sighed himself as Harry only regarded him expectantly with his glowing gaze. "Isn't it obvious what's going to happen between us?"

"Not to me," Harry said. "You've never mentioned your intentions."

"Because it doesn't need mentioning. I'm going with you."

Harry seemed to still. Not that he'd been particularly in motion anyway, but he seemed to still further with something like rigid tension. "Huh?"

"Again with the –"

"You're coming with me?"

Draco stared at him again. For a long, long moment, he only stared, the sounds of the distant murmurs from his housemates just outside the curtains the only interruption to their silence. "Of course," he finally said. "I'm following wherever you go. Surely you knew that."

Harry's eyes widened slightly. Draco had never noticed how large his eyes really were before that year; it was with regret that he'd missed the fact years ago. "Really?" he said, incredulity pitching his tone.

"Surely you knew that."

"You're really going to -?"

"Harry," Draco interrupted him. "I haven't done anything in years because nothing is worth my time. Surely you understand that when I actually do find something worthy, I'm not going to let it go. Hm?"

It was Harry's turn to stare then. He stared, eyes widening further. And then he smiled. It was slow and wide, and though it didn't bubble with mirth, Draco didn't think he'd seen anything brighter in his life. When he leaned across the distance between them to press their lips together, Draco met his kiss, morning breath and all.

"Brilliant," he murmured.

Draco happened to agree.

"This… changes things."

Draco didn't agree to that part, but he didn't question Harry's contemplation.

They rolled out of bed after that, because they had to. Because it was the fifteenth of May, the first day of NEWT exams, and even if Draco knew next to nothing of the course content, he was still a Hogwarts student. It was still a necessity of sorts, thought Draco was questioning that necessity more and more often of late.

They took their breakfast down in the kitchen as always, leaving Blaise and Pansy to their own devices and touch of nervousness that wasn't quite effectively hidden. Draco glared at the house elves that drifted too close as he always did. Harry washed his bowel in the sink as usual, and then Draco spent an excessively long time weaving two-dozen braids into his hair, because he always did. It had become routine after what felt like so long.

And when the bell sounded for nine o'clock that morning, they made their way to the Entrance Hall. Because it was requested. Expected. Because they were still students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, despite Harry not picking up his wand in months and Draco using his textbooks more as missiles for passing first years than reading material.

In the wide, echoing space, seventh year students mingled in a dance or welling and roiling anxiety. Blaise stood to the side with Pansy, both wearing expressions of aloof boredom that Draco saw through to the underlying agitation beneath. Longbottom looked about ready to hurl, and the feeble attempts of comfort from a wan-faced Hannah Abbott didn't seem to be helping him any. Theodore Nott appeared to be cramming final facts into his mind alongside the Ravenclaws, and most of those Ravenclaws were similarly engaged.

Granger and Weasley stood side by side as they often did of late, Weasley with cheeks nervously flushed and Granger seemingly talking to herself.

Daphne was feigning calm from across the room but the idly plucking of her cuffs bespoke chaos beneath her cool exterior.

Everywhere Draco looked, he could feel – see, smell, taste – the fear on the air. These exams – they meant a lot to the young men and women before him. He almost felt guilty that he felt none himself. Almost.

"They're practically shitting themselves," Harry murmured at his side as they descended the last of the steps to the Entrance Hall.

"Pretty sure Longbottom already has," Draco replied.

"Yeah, I think he has a anxiety problem. He should probably see someone for that. It's been pretty debilitating for as long as I've known him."

Draco only grunted. Leaning against Harry, his arm slung around his shoulders, he felt nothing but calm. The thought of the test, what was to come, what it meant when he inevitably failed – surely there was something wrong with him that he felt nothing. Even Harry appeared to be in the throughs of contemplation from his pervasive quietness that morning. Since they'd woken, he'd spoken surprisingly little but to utter a typical retort to Draco's wordplay that barely held a shine on their usual exchanges.

Was he worried? Surely not. Harry hadn't shown any interest in studying, in pleasing their professors, in doing what he was told and succeeding, in weeks. Months. No, years, more correctly. Even since he'd left the shithole that had been his home with the Muggles. As such, though Draco knew that something was there, he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

They didn't discuss it. They didn't have the time to for, with a creak of looming doors, the Great Hall opened briefly to admit a short, plump woman with yellow robes and a surprisingly kindly face for the examiner that she undoubtedly was. Draco didn't recognise her, which wasn't particularly surprising; he made a point of not recognising people that held no importance to him.

"Good morning, NEWT students," the woman said, her voice echoing easily through the Entrance Hall without the aid of an Amplifying Charm. She smiled across at the sea of gathered students, all wearing expressions of variable discomfort and paleness. Draco thought some even appeared to be trembling.

Honestly, how is this a realistic method of education and assessment? he thought to himself. I'm happy I'm not caught up in this bullshit. It's utterly insane.

"I hope I find you all well this morning," the witch continued, smiling benignly. "Welcome to your first NEWT examination for Charms class. I encourage you to not be nervous –"

Unlikely, Draco thought with a snort.

"- and to attempt to focus not upon the outcome but the process."

What a load of trollop. From the slight shake of Harry's head at his side, Draco knew he wasn't alone in his thoughts. The rippling, awkward shifting of classmates around him as they were clearly not reassured indicated such further.

But the witch only continued to smile. "When you enter through the doors into the hall, there will be no speaking permitted. Students will bypass Examiner Holt just to the left of the door to undergo a wand-check and analysis for unregulated items." Persisting smiling with undue merriment. "The exam will endure for two and a half hours of theoretical assessment, after which a one hour break will be followed by your practical assessment. Should you have any inquiries, myself, Examiner Holt, and Examiners Brookstead and Merrywell are only a raised hand away."

More shifting quivered through the masses. Draco shook his own head this time; it was so ridiculously grounded in formalities. So stupid.

"If you will form two orderly lines, we can begin immediately," the witch said. With a sweep of her hand, she gestured the seventh years into motion.

They followed her direction. Like sheep herded by a Shepherding Charm, they scurried into place obediently. Draco made to follow, but Harry's immobility at his side drew him to a stop. He glanced at him sidelong, but Harry only shook his head slightly once more. He didn't look at Draco but seemed to be lost momentarily in his thoughts. A frown crinkled his brow, the kind of frown that meant something, so Draco waited.

He waited as the witch urged the first of the seventh years through the doors. He waited as the murmurs silenced and the sound of footsteps echoed from the Great Hall beyond. He waited until the last of those students tucked themselves away and the witch turned towards where he and Harry still stood the length of the Entrance Hall away.

"Mr Potter?" she called, because of course she knew his name. "Mr Malfoy?" she added, which was less expected but still unremarkable.

Draco turned towards Harry himself where he still frowned, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Harry?" he asked. "Are we going to -?"

"Fuck this."

It was a mutter, but the words surely must have reached the witch for the suspended silence around them. Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Mr Potter? Is there something -?"

"Fuck this," Harry repeated, shaking his head with increasing vigour. He glanced at Draco. "You know what? Fuck it all. Why the hell are we even doing this?"

Draco shrugged. "Because we're supposed to? Because we're essentially underage wizards and all, and –"

"Except that we're not," Harry said, speaking over him a little more loudly. "We're both seventeen, so what's the fucking problem?"

"Well," Draco said slowly, "as far as I'm aware, the Ministry all but forced you to return to Hogwarts, didn't they? To be honest, I'd just as happily leave if you weren't still here."

The truth of that fact was only then made apparent to Draco. Because he would leave. Even with what he shared with Pansy and Blaise, their commitment, their friendship, he'd leave if Harry left. That much was certain. He was growing increasingly aware of the fact that he would follow Harry pretty much anywhere. There were few things that Draco cared about, but one of them – one, and the most important one – was Harry. Examinations and the education system weren't even on the same plane of consideration.

"Really?" Harry said.

"Mr Potter," the examiner repeated, taking a step towards them. "Mr Malfoy, I really must insist that you –"

"You're really only sticking around because I'm here?" Harry continued over her.

Draco sighed. "Isn't that obvious? Especially after what I told you this morning. Honestly, Harry, are you addled?"

Harry stared up at him. Then he smiled. It was the same smile he'd given Draco earlier that morning but wider, and it was glorious. "For a while, I didn't know what to… I didn't think I should…" He trailed off, then sharply shook his head. "You know what? Let's say fuck it. Fuck this."

"What?"

"Mr Potter –"

"Fuck it all," Harry said. "What can the Ministry do, anyway? Why am I only just thinking this now. After being on my own for two and a half years, I'm only deciding this now?"

Draco similarly ignored the examiner as she started slowly across the Entrance Hall towards them in long strides. He didn't even know what she was saying, was only vaguely aware that she was continuing to say something. His attention was solely reserved for Harry.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked.

Harry's smile widened impossibly further. "You'll be with me, right? You'll stick with me?" He didn't even wait for Draco's immediate reply before continuing. "Let's get out of here. Hell, if the Ministry have a problem with it, we'll just leave Britain."

"Leave Britain?"

"Unless you have a problem with that?"

Draco thought. He thought very quickly, because there was really no need for thought at all. He shrugged, draping his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Sure. Why not? Where did you have in mind?"

"Well," Harry said, smile becoming a smirk. "I have wanted to visit Greece for some time now."

Draco grinned.

Across the room, the examiner hastened towards them with increasing speed. She spoke, but Draco didn't care. The doors to the Great Hall stood expectantly wide, but he didn't care about that, either. All Draco had the care for was Harry as he turned towards Draco and locked his arms around his waist. "Hold on, yeah?"

"What did you have in mind?" Draco asked.

"These wards around Hogwarts," Harry replied. "They're pretty old and pretty strong, but I think I've got it handled. If I ask nicely enough, you know?" Then, without further utterance, in a burst of impossible magic that Draco swore he could almost see – it was green, was bright, and it glowed – the world tore apart around him.

Hogwarts disappeared in a flash. Draco found he wasn't sorry to see it go.

Tuesday, 19th May, 1998

THE BOY WHO LIVED DISAPPEARS…AGAIN?

Only recently has the Saviour of the Wizarding world resurfaced. Only months ago was his role in the defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named fully realised. In that time, Harry Potter has remained behind the wards of Hogwarts, hidden from consulting eyes and requests for interviews, to commit himself to his studies.

But no longer.

On Monday the 19th of May, NEWT examinations for seventh year students began. Harry Potter was set to take his own alongside his beloved classmates for which he has already committed so much. 'An inspiration', sources claim. 'Mr Potter inspires his classmates with what he's done and his continued dedication to his studies.' The examinations should have started with a bang.

But Harry Potter disappeared. Again.

At present, members of the examination board and the Hogwarts staff have been close-lipped on the matter, but classmates step forward to offer their opinions and observations. "It's hard to tell with Harry," states Blaise Zabini. "He's always a little off with the fairies."

"From what I can gather, and from the obnoxiously loud crack in the Entrance Hall, he Apparated directly out of the school," Pansy Parkinson claims with a veiled attempt at hiding her concern. "How, no one knows, but then, he is Harry Potter."

Just where The Boy Who Lived has disappeared to – whether by intention or otherwise – remains unknown. Sources claim that he was last seen in the company of Draco Malfoy, though the nature of Potter and Malfoy's relationship remains uncertain. The real concern lies in Harry Potter's whereabouts: what possible cause could have driven him to take flight at such a pivotal moment of his education?

Members of the Ministry that have been accessed for interview have stated that…

"They have no idea," Ron muttered to himself, shaking his head as he flopped the Daily Prophet onto the table before him. The picture of Harry – one from his fourth year, as the Prophet was want to use – stared back at him. It was an image so vastly different to the Harry he'd grown to understand was the real Harry, the Harry of now, that Ron was slightly disconcerted. "They spout all of this, but they really don't know anything."

At his side, Hermione sighed. He glanced her way, as he often did, with a touch of disbelief. It still left him a little bemused that they were now friends again. After Harry had left the first time, they'd grown apart; Hermione had thrown herself into her studies while Ron had third-wheeled his brothers in their development of joke shop products. Or was it fourth-wheeled? Lee Jordan was probably a bit of a tag-along, too. The thought made Ron feel just a little better about his situation.

But Hermione… Ron hadn't realised how much he'd missed her over the years. They'd barely shared a word in their seventh year until Harry had reappeared. What was it about Harry that had changed them? Ron didn't know. He doubted he ever would.

Because Harry was gone. Again. Ron didn't know where, and he didn't think he ever would. Over the past weeks, he'd slowly and reluctantly resigned himself to the fact that Harry was different. That he'd changed. He would still be Ron's friend forever – Ron would make sure of that – but he was different.

It was probably because of his time away from school. His time alone. Or because of the Death Eaters. Or because of his fight with Voldemort that had surely, surely been brutal, and fierce, and left him on death's door, though Harry had never claimed as much. Ron never asked. It hadn't seemed right to.

Or it could have been because of Malfoy. Bloody hell, he hated Malfoy so much it almost hurt at times. At the end of the day, Malfoy was the one who'd taken Harry away from Ron. He'd taken Ron's place. They were, as far as Ron could discern, fucking one another, and he'd –

Not that Ron had ever thought of Harry that way, but –

Well, it wasn't like Malfoy had taken his place exactly, but –

He didn't –

He couldn't –

It was all very confusing, and Harry wasn't around to ask about it anymore. Not that Ron had really spoken to him in weeks anyway, but… it would have been nice to know.

"I don't think I really understand this Harry," Hermione murmured from his side. She leant into Ron's shoulder to peer at the front page of the Daily Prophet that had somehow gotten wind that Harry had disappeared from school. How had they known? For that matter, how had Harry even done that? Ron had no idea.

"Yeah." He sighed. "He's different."

"Is he still even our friend anymore?"

Ron shook his head. "I have no bloody idea. Does he even want to be?"

Hermione shook her own. "No idea."

At that was that. There was no knowing. And mulling over the matter wouldn't help any. With reluctance, Ron followed Hermione's example as she turned back to studying her notes. They had their Transfiguration exam that day, after all. Some things were more important, even to Ron.

Sirius fiddled idly with the letter clasped in his hands. He'd been tweaking its corner for so long that it had become soft, the edges slightly frayed, yet he hardly noticed.

Instead, Sirius' attention was turned out the window of his bedroom to the spread of London beyond. He'd never cared for Grimmauld Place, but its upper stories did provide an extensive view.

Not that Sirius even saw it. He paid little attention to the setting sun, or the flutter of pigeons that marred the sky, or the smog puffing from a distant chimney that shouldn't have been puffing at all for the warmth of the evening. Sirius stared and he pondered.

He was still pondering when he heard soft footfalls on the landing outside his room. The door creaked, the old hinges that were never quite right even with gallons of oil and Squeaky-Clean Charms poured onto them protesting quietly. He knew it was Remus from the sigh that followed, even before he spoke.

"No word yet?" Remus asked.

Sirius shook his head slightly. "No."

"That's the fourth owl since he disappeared, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"It's just like the first time, after his fourth year."

Sirius gritted his teeth. That had been horrible. When Harry had disappeared for the first time… Hearing that he was gone, that he was missing, had been one of the worst moments of Sirius' life. He felt like a failure. Like he'd failed James and Lily in caring for their son. Like he'd failed as a godfather, because apparently he'd done something wrong. What had he done? Why had Harry abandoned him? And why, just like this time, did the owls sent his way seem incapable of reaching him? It was as though they'd been deflected and returned.

Sirius refused to believe the obvious answer: that Harry didn't want to talk to him. Just as he'd refused to believe Harry when he'd said he didn't want anything to do with him anymore, that he didn't want anymore letters sent, that he was fine by himself and to 'please leave him alone'. Sirius didn't believe it. Harry was clearly just confused.

It was probably the Malfoy brat's fault. Fucking Malfoys. They'd always been bad eggs.

So Sirius waited. He waited just as he'd waited years before, because he wasn't allowed to search. Because he was still under scrutiny from the ministry, but even if he wasn't, Dumbledore had sent him an owl the day Harry had disappeared and told him not to chase after him.

Sirius didn't like it. No, he hated it. But he did what Dumbledore told him to do. It had worked for them before, and loathe as Sirius was to follow such rigid orders, his childhood mischief-make worrying at the bit, he would do so. Dumbledore said it was for Harry's best, after all.

"Do you think he's…?"

As Remus trailed off, Sirius finally glanced over his shoulder. He scowled at the slightly guilty cast to Remus' tired face as he rested his head gently against the door frame. "No."

"Sirius, maybe he just –"

"No."

"Can you just consider that he might want to be on his own? Please?"

Sirius glared. He couldn't help himself, because to do anything other would be to admit defeat. Defeat and acceptance, just as Remus had done, because Remus thought this was what Harry wanted rather than knowing better. Why wouldn't Harry want to see them? After years apart, surely he would want to resume contact with his father's best friends.

Sirius wouldn't have it. He wouldn't believe it. So instead, he returned to staring out the window at pigeons and a darkening sunset, fiddling with a letter that wouldn't send, and waited. He would always wait. Hell, he'd done enough of it over the years. He was more than practiced at it by that point.

And tomorrow, Sirius would send another owl. Just like he always did.

"Albus."

Turning from the crystal ball before him – a gift from Sybil years ago, and one that she likely hadn't known the power of – Albus raised his gaze. His attention caught upon the figure standing just within the doorway to his office, shaking her head slowly.

"Minerva," he said, smiling. "I didn't hear you come in."

In a swish of bottle-green robes, Minerva crossed the room. She planted herself across the desk from him, hands curling around the back of the empty chair that stood before her. "Albus," she said slowly. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my dear."

Her eyes rising briefly to the ceiling as though to question the heavens, Minerva sighed. She gestured to the crystal ball. "Spying is a breach of privacy."

"It is indeed."

"It is, as I understand it, illegal to spy through scrying without the express permission of the individual being observed."

"In most cases, you would be correct."

Minerva arched an eyebrow. "Most cases?"

Albus' smile widened. "I only do so in order to ensure his wellbeing, Minerva."

"You're spying –"

"He is still a prominent figure in our world, and as such, his location and circumstances should be monitored."

"Albus, you can't just –"

"It is, one could say, my responsibility." Albus leant back slightly in his seat. The urge to chuckle at the world-weary cast to Minerva's expression was almost irrepressible, but he somehow contained himself. "Worry not, I understand boundaries."

"Do you?" Minerva said tiredly.

This time, Albus didn't bother withholding his chuckle. He leant into his desk, hands clasping on the spread before him. "It is truly entertaining to observe, Minerva. Perhaps you would chance to join me some time?"

Minerva's eyes narrowed. "I think not."

"Ah, but it is so fascinating. Why, to think, a Potter and a Malfoy… They were once such opposites, you recall? And yet, to now fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle… Truly, only just now I have seen –"

"As I understand it, Albus, the ministry only approved your keeping of the crystal ball for the hunting of Dark Artefacts," Minerva said, cutting him off with a dry lash of her tongue. "Searching for a certain Dark's Horcruxes I believe is a far better occupation of your time."

Albus chuckled again. Such entertainment she gives me, he thought, shaking his head. "All in good time, Minerva. Now, from what I've just seen – truly, when considering what the papers know, I wouldn't have guessed, but what I've seen just now..."

Minerva only sighed once more. Then she pulled out the chair before her with the motion of one resigned to her fate and sat in wait as Albus spoke of his fascination.

Monday, June the 15th, 1998

THE QUESTION ENDURES: WHERE IS HE?

For a whole month, the whereabouts of Harry Potter have remained a mystery to the Wizarding world. Disappearing from Hogwarts by what is now considered to be an impossible feat of magic the likes previously unseen behind the school's wards, he and his accompaniment, Draco Malfoy, remain absent from the public's scouring eye.

"No, he didn't tell us," states Ron Weasley, childhood and persisting friend of Harry Potter. "And I probably wouldn't tell you if he had."

"Harry didn't talk about himself all that much," adds Hermione Granger, similarly a friend. "I couldn't even speculate where he might be."

Ministry operatives and members of the Education Board that, sources claim, initially encouraged Potter to return to his schooling, are similarly baffled. That the only speculated sighting of Potter or Malfoy at all pertains to a seaside café just outside of Thessaloniki, Greece, raises more questions than it answers…

"Oh, bugger."

"What?"

"I knew it. You bloody twat, I knew we shouldn't have gone to Thessaloniki."

Draco lowered his iced tea onto the glass table at his side, flopping his book onto his chest as he seemed to recline only more completely onto his deck chair. He flicked his aviators a little further down his nose as he peered at Harry, squinting through the glaring sunlight, and arched his studded eyebrow. "What is it?"

Leaning across the arm of his own deck chair, Harry held the Prophet out for his inspection. Draco took it with a frown. "You still get this sent to you?" he asked

Harry shrugged, then remembered he was pretending to be pissed off and scowled. "It keeps me up to date."

"With what?"

"With tails. I meant what I said last week, Draco. I don't like being followed."

"Understandably," Draco said absently as he scanned the page. "Being hounded by Death Eaters for more than two years of your life can do that to a person, as I understand it."

Harry pursed his lips, but his disgruntlement couldn't endure for long. It was impossible, what with Draco sitting beside him and all but glowing with his magic. The entire town of Omos seemed to glow, for that matter, even without a high population of witches and wizards, but not quite so vibrantly as Draco did. He seemed even more so since he'd started embracing his magic properly.

That fact left Harry more than a little satisfied, even as a passing consideration. They'd withdrawn to Mykonos only in the past three days, and their seaside stay was nothing short of extravagantly luxurious, from the warmth just bordering on hot to the pristinely cool pools that they'd spent most of their stay enjoying. Harry didn't particularly want it to end, even knowing it would. They had a schedule, after all; their next stop would be Draco's pick, but after that, Harry had every intention of taking them somewhere further afield. Maybe to America? That was pretty far away, and he'd never been before.

"Well," Draco said, breaking into his thoughts. He did so more through the nudge of his toe against Harry's leg than his words, as he often did; apparently touch was the fastest way to shake Harry out of his 'zone', or so Draco had discovered. "It's clear they know next to nothing."

Harry propped an elbow onto the arm of his chair. "I still don't think we should have gone."

"Your opinion was noted. The coffee was worth it."

"You don't even drink coffee."

"Yes, but you do. And you said it was worth it."

Harry sighed. "And I'm currently regretting my words."

Draco flashed him a grin that sparkled dazzlingly silver. Whether it was the heat of the Grecian summer or the constant beaming sunlight of the region, Harry didn't know, but he truly did appear brighter. He held out a hand and beckoned towards Harry. "Don't be such a worrywart."

"What are you, seventy?" Harry asked, climbing to his feet and padding over the distance between them. "Who says worrywart anymore?"

Draco didn't reply as he tugged Harry into his lap. Harry settled himself comfortable, straddling Draco legs. One thing that he didn't regret about their travels was dipping into their combined savings to afford them the privacy and luxuries that only money could buy. Draco 'knew a bloke' who had a disturbing knack for accessing their funds without being traced. The man was invaluable, in Harry's opinion.

"Does it actually worry you?" Draco asked, grazing his fingers through Harry's fringe. They were cool, as they'd been ever since they'd first encountered the southern heat. It was a product of his proper use of magic, Harry knew. He not-so-secretly approved of the fact. "What exactly will they do?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I just want them to go away and leave me alone."

"And me. I was in the papers too."

"Briefly. You were an afterthought."

"I'm never an afterthought."

Harry smirked. "But of course, Your Majesty. How could I forget? You always deserve front and centre seating."

"Too right," Draco said, grinning back at him. Latching onto the back of Harry's head, he tugged him down towards him to all but swallow him in a kiss. Then he turned his head, kissing behind his ear and tracing the tattooed letters as he'd done so often since he'd found it.

"What does 'Abracadabra' mean?" he'd asked weeks before. "Is that a slap in the face of the Killing Curse?"

Harry had only snorted, shaking his head at Wizarding ignorance. "Sure. If you'd like."

"How morbid," Draco had replied, stroking the letters. "I love it."

And now it was A Thing. Whatever that meant. Harry found he quite liked it.

Though the Prophet still rested between them where Draco had propped it against his chest, Harry's appalling fourth-year photograph staring up at him, Harry ignored it. He lost himself for a time in Draco's mouth, leaning against him, into him, and closing his eyes to the glow of magic that flared brighter with each passing moment. When they finally drew apart, it was to Draco's murmur against his lips. "Does it really bother you?"

"Surprisingly," Harry muttered back. "Probably more than it should."

"Then we'll go away," Draco said. "Far away. Where they won't be able to find us."

Harry smiled. He pressed his lips briefly against Draco's before meeting his gaze once more. "Where'd you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking… America's pretty far, right? Or perhaps Canada?"

Harry's smile widened. "You read my mind," he said, before drawing Draco into another kiss of the kind that quickly made the best use of their privacy.

It didn't truly matter where they went, so long as it was away. So long as it was just them. Maybe one day Harry would feel inclined to return to Britain; he'd come to quite like Blaise, and Pansy was a glorious bitch in her own right. But not yet. Not quite yet.

Right now, Harry was making the most of his freedom. No more ties. No more nagging ex-acquaintances. No more Dark Lords, or Horcruxes, or nagging ministry. He was free, and so long as he was with Draco, there wasn't truly anything more he could possibly want. Harry had considered for a long time that it would only take one particularly forceful nudge to push him off his teetering brink towards finally spit the Ministry of Magic in the face, give them the bird, and leave for good. Just one more nudge. He just hadn't imagined that such a nudge would be a happy one, and in the a peculiar form as a Malfoy.

And now, there was no turning back. It was finally done. Gone. Over.

Serves you all bloody right. It's your turn. Take care of yourselves for a change. For better or worse, that was surely what the Wizarding world would do without him.

A/N: This is the end! Is it a bit sudden? Maybe. Possibly. But it felt like a pretty natural close, so I hope you liked it, my dear readers.
Thank you so, so much for taking a chance with this story. And thank you especially to all of the wonderful reviewers! I've loved each and every moment of it, and your words, regardless of how little or extensive, have been the best thing ever!
Happy future reading, and thank you for sharing this story with me!