The sun was bright, glimmering off the reflective surface of the Lake. Harry had to squint his eyes to see. There, a few yards above the surface, hovered a collection of small stones, falling and breaking through the ice one at a time. Each time a new hole appeared, the world got brighter, until it was verging on blinding.

Harry turned his face away from the Lake, trying to ward off the intense light. Someone was there, had been standing behind him; the sun shone in Harry's eyes and hid the person's face. They said something, but Harry couldn't hear them. The light got brighter; the world was white, with a scant few shadows at the edges.

Harry stumbled on a rock at his feet. Again, the person spoke. As Harry broke through the crust of ice, his vision whited out.

"Wake up."

Harry bunched his face against the light of the room. He said, "I'm awake."

"Wake up—wake up."

"I said I'm awake," Harry said. He opened his eyes. Above him was the canopy of Draco's bed, enchanted to mimic the cycles of the sun rising and setting in brightness. Draco claimed it woke him up in a better mood; Harry optimistically decided not to argue.

He turned his head and found Draco mumbling in his sleep. Harry gently squeezed his arm.

"Wake up, Draco."

Draco started awake, looking anxious. "Harry?"

"Bad dream?" Harry asked, smiling.

Draco stared at him, their faces inches apart. After a moment, he relaxed.

"Something like that."

Harry gave him a light kiss on the tip of the nose. "All better?"

Again, Draco stared, appearing tense.

"What?"

"It's nothing. You just haven't acted like this since... you know."

Wake up—wake up.

Harry remembered his dream.

"Jesus."

"What?"

"Somehow," Harry said, "I'd almost forgotten about '...you know.'"

Harry retraced his path to wakefulness before he continued, trying to recall more. "But you reminded me of the dream I was having before I woke up. I have someplace I want to visit with you."

"Okay," Draco said, sitting up. His face was still slightly concerned.

"Why so serious?" Harry asked. "Do you need some cheering up?"

Draco looked over at Harry with a small smirk on his face. "Okay, you've convinced me. We had sex last night and you're already horny again. You're fine."

Harry sniffed haughtily and rolled out of bed. "I'll take that as a no."

"Wait, Harry, look; I'm positively morose."

Harry slipped on a pair of trousers. "I'll give you five minutes while I go to the bathroom."

He fully expected Draco to still be pouting in bed when he returned three or four minutes later. Draco was still in bed, but he wasn't pouting. Sitting with his back against the headboard and his eyes closed, he had one hand on his erection and the other between his legs, gripping his balls. As Harry watched, he finished himself off, messing his stomach with jizz.

Harry began to clap slowly. Draco jumped and opened his eyes.

"You call that five minutes?" he demanded.

Harry could only laugh as Draco glowered at him. Harry picked up a discarded piece of clothing from the floor and tossed it to Draco.

"Clean up and let's go."

Draco muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Muggle" as he grabbed his wand from the nightstand. He pointed it at his stomach and said, "Evanesco."

Harry looked at his clothes lying wrinkled on the floor.

"Erm, Draco, do you have something I could wear?"

"You'll have to go nude," Draco said tersely.

"Draco-o..."

He sighed. "I'm sure there's something in the chest of drawers."

Harry opened a few drawers and poked through them. He slipped on a pair of trousers and a green jumper. When he turned around, Draco was staring at him once more.

"You can't go outside like that."

"Why not?"

"You'll be arrested!"

Harry frowned and looked down. "Well, the trousers are a bit tight, but your legs are skinnier than mine."

"'A bit tight'? If you get hard they'll rip open."

"You're exaggerating. I think."

Draco sighed. "If you tear my jeans, you're buying me a new pair."

As the pair trudged through the snow, Draco looked worried. Harry squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"It's only one day of classes. No one's going to flunk us for one day."

"Harry, I've never wanted anything short of a full recovery for you."

"I know, Draco."

"With that in mind, I will not be disappointed if the Lake disappoints you today."

"What do you mean?"

Draco shook his head. "I'd rather not."

The sun glinted off the ice, almost as piercing as in Harry's dream. The wind was a mere suggestion of shifting snowflakes on the frozen ground, but the cold was still potent, seeping slowly into fingers and toes.

For a minute, Harry and Draco stood staring over the Lake. Harry was sure he could have gotten lost in the vastness of the barren winter scape but for Draco's hand anchoring him. He wasn't sure what he was looking for; what little of his dream he could remember was vague and unhelpful.

He bent down and picked up a stone at random, felt it pulling toward the earth. It was bitingly cold on his fingers. He turned to face Draco. Each hand was weighted down, one with a dulling chill and the other with a soft warmth. It felt right. Draco's eyes reflected the achingly empty skies.

Harry could feel the memory stirring, but it was lethargic. It needed something more.

"Say it," he said.

"Say what?" Draco asked.

"You know."

Draco glanced away; Harry felt the memory settling again.

"Please. Draco, please."

Draco took a steadying breath. His eyes were pleading.

"I love you."

Harry's smile froze on his face, but Draco's was earnest, gentle. Harry's gaze slid away from Draco's face. Suddenly his focus was stuck on the Lake as sure as if he'd pressed his tongue on the ice.

"Harry? What—"

"I heard you." Too late, Harry felt the harsh quality of his words. He choked them off, but they had already done their damage.

"You 'heard' me? Merlin, Harry, if you can't say it back, that's fine, but you 'heard' me?"

"I—I'm—" Harry clenched his jaw. "You know how I feel about that."

Draco let go of Harry's hand with a look of disgust. "Yeah, and now you know how I feel, so I guess we're even. Fuck off."

"Gladly," Harry said, spinning on his heel and walking towards the castle. He was full of turmoil as he approached the great stone walls, but he doubted anyone inside would understand.

Harry realized he was gripping Draco's hand like a vice; the stone had long since slipped from his fingers. His focus was brought back to the present by a dull ache in the back of his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I like to think you're a different person now," Draco said.

"I loved you too, you know," Harry said. "I think it scared me."

"And now?"

Harry thought for a beat. "Every day with you and every memory I get back make me believe I could again."

"I meant, are you scared now?" Draco said, tracing Harry's jaw with a single finger.

"No."

"Liar."

"Gryffindor," Harry corrected.

"Touché," Draco said with a smile. "Can we go back inside now? I've got something for you."

Seeing the look in Harry's eyes, he added, "Not that sort of something."

"Your journal?" Harry asked, feeling the dark leather in his hands.

"Temporarily, of course."

"You really want me reading this?"

"It should help get your missing months back," Draco said. "And no, you won't be reading. It's a magical journal."

"But—it had words in it before."

"Just an illusion. It's similar to a Pensieve. It takes my memories and re-creates them as though it were an observer to my life."

Harry opened the journal. "How do I do this? Where do I start? What if... what if I remember something I don't want to remember?"

Draco took Harry's hands. One of them he placed palm-down in the journal; into the other he twined his own fingers.

"Like this. Calm your mind. Take your time.

"You start on May 19th.

"And if you ever need me, I'll be in the corner, reading my Potions textbook."

"Draco!" Harry shoved the other boy, who was smirking his signature smirk.

More seriously, Draco said, "No more running away. Either of us. Okay?"

Harry agreed. Flipping to the page for May 19, he took a deep breath and placed his hand on the softly textured paper.

"To the future!" he said, as though he were making a toast.

"And now: to the past."