Fic: When a Tree Dreams (7/10)

[omi_ohmy]

Title: When a Tree Dreams (7/10)

Author:omi_ohmy
Summary: Directly after the war, Harry is left lost and full of questions about his life. Slowly over the summer, and with the help of friends, he works out what will make him happy - or even who. Angsty, eventual slash & romance, HPDM. Rated R for later chapters.
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic was written for fun, not for profit.
Pairings/Characters: HP/DM, RW/HG
Rating: R for later chapters (this chapter PG)
Word count (this chapter): ~37,000 (~5,500)
Warning(s): Mostly misery and friendships, not much HPDM until later chapters.
Betas: birdsofshore and evilgiraff

Chapter One

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<<Chapter Six

A/N: Apologies straight off here; there's no Draco in this chapter. :(

Chapter 7 - Responsibilities Remembered

August

"Harry, Harry! We're back!" called Ron. "Maybe he's out," he said, turning to Hermione. At that moment, Kreacher appeared.

"Kreacher!" said Hermione and moved forwards as if to embrace him. He recoiled, stepping back, his eyes wide. "It's good to see you, Kreacher," she said gently, smiling. "Is Harry here?" He eyed her warily and held himself back nervously. He looked at them both and nodded, then pointed upstairs.

"Thank you," Ron said, and they put their bags down and made their way upstairs. When they were halfway up the flight of stairs, Harry appeared at the top. His hair was dishevelled, and there were creases in his cheeks. He smiled sleepily when he saw them.

"Ron, 'Mione!" he yawned. He came down the stairs and met them in a hug. Hermione pulled back and wrinkled her nose.

"Ew, Harry, when did you last have a shower?"

Harry dropped his arms and looked a little sheepish. "Sorry," he mumbled, "there didn't seem much point when I wasn't going anywhere. Besides," and he yawned again, "you just woke me up."

"At one o'clock in the afternoon? Harry," said Hermione, her voice full of reproach and shaking her head. Harry looked over at Ron, hoping for a bit of support. Ron shrugged his shoulders, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Sorry mate, but you are a bit ripe," he said. Then he broke out in a wide smile. "It's good to see you though. We'll go downstairs for a cup of tea, you go have a shower, then we can talk properly."

As Harry made his way back up to the bathroom, he could hear Ron saying "Honestly 'Mione, did you have to be so... direct?", and Hermione's snort in answer. He smiled to himself. It was great that they were back. He had a quick shower, dressed and hurried downstairs to see them.

When he got to the kitchen, Kreacher had made a pot of tea and a huge plate of bacon sandwiches. His stomach rumbling, Harry unapologetically reached for a plate and put two sandwiches on it. He picked up the glass bottle of tomato sauce, turned it upside down and gave it a few firm taps, then added ketchup to his sandwiches. He sat back and started to eat. Bliss. As if given permission to join in, Ron made himself a plate too. Hermione rolled her eyes, but pinched one of Ron's sandwiches anyway.

As Harry ate, Hermione kept up a constant stream of commentary, filling him in on what she and Ron had been up to.

"...and we were so lucky to have Healer Li to help us, she knew so much about memory charms and the mind. My parents are ok now, more or less. It was a struggle for them to integrate their old recovered memories with the new ones they'd made, but in the end I think we got there." Harry felt huge relief that Hermione had been able to reverse her Obliviation. He couldn't imagine what the past few months had been like for her. He held onto her forearm for a moment and smiled, his eyes sad but warm with friendship.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, quietly.

"So, Harry, what have you been up to? Sorry we couldn't make it back for your birthday, did you have an ok day?" asked Ron through a mouthful of bacon. Harry laughed. It was good to be together again.

"I've been out a few times. I went flying the other day – Kreacher found Sirus' old broom," Harry paused, uncertain of how to broach the subject of Draco's presence over the past month or so. "And, er, Draco Malfoy was staying here for a while."

There was a heavy clunk as Ron put his mug of tea down.

"I don't understand," said Hermione, looking puzzled.

"Well, he ran away from home, and Kingsley asked him to testify against his father and the other Death Eaters. Kingsley felt this was safest place for him to stay," said Harry, neatly skipping the fact that he'd been to the Manor, or that he'd invited Draco to stay.

"He was here during the trials?" asked Hermione, looking up sharply at him. Harry nodded.

"Yes, but we hardly spoke. Kingsley put a Taboo on any mention of the trial."

"And you didn't kill each other? Wow," said Ron, his eyes wide and fixed on Harry.

"Yeah, well, he was pretty... sad, when he got here. We just left each other alone, mostly. Actually–", and here Harry paused, checking his friends' faces for their reactions as he continued, "–he's not that bad. By the time he left I... I quite liked him." Harry sighed. "But I don't think we'll be seeing him again. He..." he trailed off, uncertain of how he could describe how or why Draco had left. It was... personal.

Hermione was frowning. When she spoke, it was very gently.

"Did he talk about... what he'd done, at all?" she asked, and Harry knew what she was asking. He looked down, remembering sad eyes.

"Yeah, a bit, after the trials. I think he's sorry for what he did."

"But he's gone now?"

"We– we bumped into Theo Nott. He said some things... he was cruel to Draco. I think it scared him off. I don't know where he went, but he's not here anymore."

"Draco?" asked Ron. Harry looked up and smiled a crooked little half-smile.

"When you share bathroom with someone, it seems only polite to call them by their first name." Ron accepted this explanation with a thoughtful nod.

Hermione was quiet, while Ron and Harry moved on to talking about Quidditch, Harry not having followed the sport at all over the summer. Ron got quite excited about the Cannons, who had recently won against Kestrels, and soon had a collection of cutlery, mugs, and the sauce bottle standing in for players as he described their last game.

When the Quidditch chat had died down a little, Hermione began to talk about their plans for the future. Harry fidgeted in his chair, uncomfortable about the topic.

"So we're going to Hogsmeade, to help rebuild Hogwarts. It's already well under way, but there's still lots to be done. I've owled Professor McGonagall, and she's said we can help. I know we can go back when it opens if we want, to take the year we missed, but I'm not sure yet if I want to. A lot's happened since we were last at school. I will take my NEWTs though, one way or another. After the school opens, we'll either go there or we'll... we'll probably end up getting a place together," she said, blushing.

"Mum won't be too pleased if we do," added Ron, "but there's not much she can do now we're of age," he shrugged and grinned. "Besides, I've spent more time living with Hermione over the past year than I have at home." Hermione shot him an affectionate look.

"What about you, Harry, what are you going to do?" asked Hermione.

Harry looked miserable. "I don't know. I did write a list..." he stopped. He hadn't thought about his list since Draco had arrived. Harry frowned. "Maybe I should have another look at it. And I hadn't thought about NEWTs, or a job, or anything like that."

"Harry, you need to do something. You can't stay in this... mausoleum forever, doing nothing." Harry looked guilty at her choice of words. That was more or less what he had been doing. "You need to think about what you want in life, and what your responsibilities are. If we want to be treated as adults, we need to act like adults."

Harry sighed. Hermione, as usual, was right.

oOo

In the end, Harry decided to join Ron and Hermione in Hogsmeade. He did need to get away from number twelve. It was a depressing place, and although he didn't say it, he kept thinking of Draco, each room full of reminders of their time together, and he needed to get away from that too. They took some rooms at the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta was back behind the bar downstairs, seemingly recovered from her time under Draco's Imperius curse. Harry felt conflicting emotions when he saw her: happiness that she was ok, and a confused unhappiness at the thought of all the dark deeds in Draco's past. It was one thing talking about them, another to see a living reminder.

On his first day in Hogsmeade, Harry suddenly panicked about going out. He was so used to hiding away, or only going out in Muggle areas, that the thought of being exposed in such a wizarding place terrified him. In the end an exasperated Ron and Hermione left to go up to the castle, leaving Harry to mope in his room. He was surprised when after an hour or so, there was a loud knock at the door. He was even more surprised when he opened the door to find a stern-looking Professor McGonagall standing on the small landing.

"Harry," she said, her words as clipped and efficient as ever.

"Professor, I– please, come in," Harry stepped back and ushered her into the room. There was only one chair, so he offered it to her and sat on the edge of his bed. Luckily as it was only his first day there the room was still tidy, not a stray sock to be seen.

"Please, call me Minerva," she paused, saw the look on Harry's face, and sighed, "or Headmistress if you must." Harry smiled weakly.

"Thank you, Headmistress," McGonagall looked at him thoughtfully and shook her head.

"Is it that difficult to think of me as just another person?"

"It's not that, Prof– Headmistress, it's just... I haven't decided what I want to do about my NEWTs or a job or whatever yet, and if I come back to school..."

"Ah, I see. Well in that case, may I commend you for your prudent thinking." Harry flushed a little and looked down.

"Harry," she said gently, and Harry looked up to meet her clear, sharp gaze. "Your friends asked me to come and talk to you today," Harry nodded, having guessed as much. "They... they want you to be happy," and her face softened with fondness. "But I'm speaking to you today because I wanted to. There are lots of students who have come back to help us rebuild, past and present. It has been heartening. One of them though, is not here by his own volition, although I would like to believe that given the choice he would have found his way here anyway," she narrowed her eye slightly. "I have had several enlightening conversations with Draco since he started helping here." At the sound of Draco's name, Harry's attention became totally fixed on McGonagall. He felt his heart start to beat a little faster. "You have good friends, Harry, but you have also been a good friend, to someone who really needed one."

"He's here?" asked Harry, hope flaring in him. It fell away as McGonagall shook her head. "No, he has helped, and will continue to do so, but it has been safer for him not to join the general work crews," she paused and looked out of the window, before looking back. "You really were exceptional in welcoming, and forgiving him. As your former Head of House I want you to know that I'm proud of you."

Harry felt warmth wash through him at her words. And regret, that things had been left the way they were with Draco. Since his friends had returned he had allowed himself to get caught up in their lives and concerns, and shut away the confusion he'd felt since Nott's revelation and Draco's dramatic departure.

McGonagall looked serious as she sat quietly, regarding him with bright eyes. She seemed timeless, but at the same time her years of experience were clear too. She looked wise.

"Harry, I know that your friends have their plans, their own hopes and dreams. But you need to work out what you want, not what anyone else wants. If being here, with all the memories, all the attention, isn't the right thing for you, that's fine. Take your time. Think, talk to people, go for walks: whatever helps you," she paused, and Harry felt she was trying to choose the best words to convey whatever she wanted to say next.

"It may not feel like it now, but you're lucky. You've got the luxury of having the space to work all this out. You've already faced more than many people have had to, but you haven't had the same opportunities for the smaller things in life that most people enjoy. Find your balance now, find where you fit in, between the big things and the small things."

McGonagall stood up, smoothing her robes. Harry stood too. There were tears in her eyes as she held his hand, like an old friend, and said "I want you to be happy, I think you can be. Go find your happiness." She made her way to the door, and turned to face him as she before she opened it. "If you want, we can walk back up to the school together, just to see how it is now. But if it's too soon, you don't have to. It's up to you, Harry."

Harry stood, blinking and overwhelmed by her words. He was reminded of Dumbledore. He looked at her, awed. "You really are the Headmistress," he whispered. He knew she understood what he meant as he saw the flash of surprise on her face.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, softly.

"Goodbye, Headmistress, and thank you. I... I have some thinking to do."

"Goodbye, Harry," she said in return, and quietly let herself out.

Harry picked his bag off the floor and sat down on the bed. He had to take everything out (although still pathetic as a collection of belongings), but there, at the bottom was his list. He unfolded it, the creases soft. He took a deep breath, and then he looked at it. He took the same, chewed old pen he had used to write it from the side pocket of his bag, and looked at the list, critically. He made two decisive, final marks on the page.

Harry's to do list

Find Kreacher.

Work out where to live

Visit the families of the dead

Return Malfoy's wand.

See Teddy.

He hadn't really got that far, in the past few months. Perhaps he needed to start by remembering the other people who had been touched by the war. It wasn't just him who'd had life turned upside down by Voldemort, by war, by death. He sat there a long time, thinking and remembering. He needed to finish this, and then he would try to find his balance. He hoped he could find happiness, too.

oOo

The house was in a quiet street, sandwiched between two others in the short terrace between two side-streets. The walls were a soft yellow brick, and even from the outside you could see that it was a cosy, well-loved home. The door was painted a cheery red, and a window was open on the warm summer's evening. Harry took a deep breath and knocked, twice. The door was opened by a short, pretty woman, in her late thirties or early forties. She gasped when she saw Harry. "Harry Potter?" she asked, and quickly pulled him in.

Harry sat in the small sitting room. Mr and Mrs Creevey sat together on the sofa, and Dennis perched on the arm. The tv had gone off as soon as he'd walked in, and Dennis had insisted onto at Harry took his seat in the narrow armchair in the corner. A cat had brushed its body against his legs a few times, then leapt into his lap. Harry found the warm weight comforting, and was running the fingers of one hand through the soft fur over and over again as he balanced his tea on the armrest with the other. They all had cups of tea, and there was a plate of biscuits on the side table next to Harry. There were photos in frames, on the walls and in a display cabinet in the corner. They were all Muggle photos, and Harry had a lump in his throat, seeing the three with pride of place on the mantelpiece: one was of Colin, one of Dennis and Colin, arms round each other and grinning, looking ready to leap away in their enthusiasm, and finally, one of Colin and Harry, together.

As the cat purred, he spoke to them, quietly, about his memories of Colin. He told them about Colin's enthusiasm, his friendliness, and finally, his bravery. They, in return, told Harry of how excited he'd been to start at Hogwarts, to discover that he was a wizard. Harry drank his tea, and ate two biscuits. He looked at several photo albums. When he left, it was that time between day and dusk when the light seems brighter, yet soft, and the world seems to hold its breath. Mr Creevey gripped his arm, and thanked Harry for coming. As Harry walked away, he was lost in his memories of a short, brown-haired boy. He wished he had a messy garden and Draco to return to, to talk to about his visit. But instead, he returned to the Three Broomsticks, and Ron and Hermione.

All Harry wanted to do was hide away in his room, but he ended up going downstairs with his friends. He had been avoiding the public areas of the Three Broomsticks, wary of other people's reactions to him. He felt his anxiety levels rise when he realised that Luna and Neville were sitting at a table in the corner, waiting for them. After McGonagall's visit Hermione and Ron had reluctantly accepted that Harry wasn't going to be working alongside them: Harry suspected McGonagall had also had a chat with them, too. He wasn't sure though how his other friends would take his absence from Hogwarts.

Neville however, greeted Harry with a warm smile and a lack of questions which instantly put Harry at ease. Luna and Hermione launched straight into a detailed and convoluted conversation about spells for moving statues back into their original positions: apparently when McGonagall had animated them for the Battle they had eventually come to a halt in strange places and stranger positions. The challenge was to get them back to a fairly 'normal' stance without having them run off again. The two women had been working on this for a few days and soon lost Harry in some of their discussion of magical theory.

Ron and Neville went to the bar with their orders, and Harry sat quietly just listening, not really in the mood for talking. When they arrived back with drinks, the conversation moved on, and Harry was told all about how the rebuild in general was going. After a while there was a lull in the chatter around the table, and Luna turned to Harry.

"So what about you, Harry, what have you been up to?" she asked.

Harry forced himself to answer, although he just wanted to hide away. Quietly, he told them about seeing the Creeveys.

"Well done, Harry", whispered Hermione.

''He was really brave, last year,'' said Neville, and Luna nodded enthusiastically.

"And him and his camera!" said Ron. They sat, reminiscing about Colin, and then the other fallen of Hogwarts. After a while Harry realised that the rest of the pub had gone quiet, that others were listening in. He was proud of his friends, both the ones there and the ones who were no longer with them. A round of drinks were delivered to their table, and they led the room in a toast to their old friends.

People came over to talk to them, and soon the room was buzzing, as small groups broke back off. With the noise came a modicum of privacy again, as people's attention came off Harry and his friends. Having everything focused on them had not been as bad as Harry had feared it would be, but he still relaxed when it had lessened.

"You'll never guess who we saw today," said Neville. Luna looked on expectantly, obviously already knowing the answer, but the others shook their heads, curious.

"Malfoy," Neville announced. Everyone turned to stare at him.

"He was here?" Harry asked, a little too quickly. For a second he thought that maybe he should be helping with the rebuild, if it meant he could bump into Draco. He looked around him, nervous that the others might have picked up on his question and his eagerness. Ron was the only one looking at him, but he wore a look of understanding on his face.

"I think he's changed, a bit," said Ron. "What was he like today?" Harry was grateful to Ron for deflecting the attention away from him, and for saying something nice about Draco.

"He seemed ok," shrugged Neville, "a bit quiet, actually. Nothing like he used to be."

"He apologised to me," added Luna. "He... told me some things, about his parents. I think Neville's right, I think he's changed."

Hermione also looked at Harry thoughtfully. "You said the same, didn't you Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"I saw that photo of you talking to him at the end of his trial," said Luna, "I didn't understand how you could bear to talk to him like that, but now I've spoken to him, I think I do."

"It's good that you could move past your history with him, Harry," said Hermione,"I think the rest of the wizarding world needed to see that." Neville looked unsure, but Ron nodded in agreement.

The conversation spun off into talk of the trials, then speculation about who was going to enter Auror training. Harry found himself detaching from the others again, not as interested in the idea of being an Auror as he had been before.

Instead, he found himself talking quietly to Luna about Draco.

"He said sorry, and he seemed so... subdued. I wasn't supposed to see him, he's been working on some of the internal repairs, away from the rest of the students. I heard there was a... problem on his first day." Harry felt his heart clench in worry.

"Was he hurt?" he asked, concerned. Luna looked at him, her big wide eyes either thoughtful or dreaming.

"Maybe," she said, "I don't know. But today he was almost kind to me. He said sorry, and I told him his Wrackspurts were obviously affecting his mood. He told me he must get them from his mother,'' her dreamy eyes hardened, for a moment. ''He told me he'd run away, before the trials," she blinked. "I think he was lonely, he just needed someone to talk to.'' Harry looked away. He found the idea that Draco was lonely upsetting, as much as the thought that he might have been hurt was a second ago. When he turned back he couldn't help but try to find out if Draco had talked about him.

"Did he mention that he had been staying with me?" asked Harry, quietly. Luna nodded.

"You know, Harry, I got the impression today that there's something unfinished hanging between you and Malfoy," said Luna, her elbows on the table and her fingers interlaced, and her chin resting on her hands. "It's almost as if... did you two really become friends?"

Harry didn't want to be having this conversation, but he knew there was no running away from Luna. After her experience at Malfoy Manor, the least she deserved was the truth.

"Yes," he nodded. "Sort of, just about. I think we could have become good friends, actually," he shrugged, "not many people have been through as much as we have." He sighed, before adding quietly, "It was... good, talking to him."

At this point he realised that Hermione was now listening to the conversation. She played with a beer mat, not looking directly at them. He wasn't saying anything she didn't know already, so he continued regardless. "It doesn't matter too much now, he... got scared and ran away."

"You always had a strange connection with him, Harry," said Luna. "I always thought that," and Harry shifted, uncomfortable at the echoes of Nott's words.

Hermione had looked up sharply at what Luna had said, and exchanged a glance with her. Then Harry found two pairs of brightly focused eyes on him, leaving him feeling exposed.

"I see an increased level of Wrackspurts in your life, as well as Malfoy's, Harry," said Luna airily, "they confuse but also make things easier to see." Hermione cleared her throat, never that at ease with some of Luna's theories. But she didn't say anything. They sat quietly for a minute. "You need to work out what you want, Harry, and then they will stop confusing you."

Hermione still looked a little sceptical, but she was serious when she spoke.

"Harry, however you describe it, Luna's right, you need to work out what you want," she sighed, "I just want you to be happy. Whatever you find out, whatever you decide, I don't mind, as long as you're happy." She gave his arm a quick squeeze, and fixed him with a warm smile.

As Luna nodded in agreement, Harry was grateful for their support, although he still wasn't sure what he wanted, and was under the impression that his two friends were trying to send him some deeper message, one that he didn't understand.

"Thanks," he said,"I'm still trying to figure it all out. I'll let you know when I work out what I want, what I need, to make me happy."

Ron had got quite merry by this point, having had quite a few drinks that evening. The last time Harry had noticed him, he had been talking loudly to Neville. But then he saw Neville walking off towards the bar. Ron turned to Harry, and gave him a wide, drunken smile.

"What you need, Harry," he said, "is love," and he looked over at Hermione, open admiration on his face. "It's the best thing, ever. Take it from me," and he winked. Hermione laughed and hit his arm playfully.

"Enough of that!"

They all laughed and the conversation moved on, but in the back of his mind Harry couldn't help but agree with Ron, that all he needed was, indeed, love.

oOo

Harry knew he was ready. This time, he didn't knock at the front door, but walked round to the back. He pushed open the kitchen door, and found Molly sitting at the table. She looked up, and, too quick for thought, her face broke into a warm, genuine smile. She jumped up and swept him up into a hug. He relaxed into her soft, all-encompassing embrace. They stood there together for a long moment, as he accepted the comfort she had to offer, then Molly let him go. She held his face with one hand and looked at him.

"I know it got to be too much for you, I understand why you left. But you are one of us, no matter what your name is or what colour your hair," Harry laughed. "You do know," she said seriously, "that we love you, I hope." Harry nodded. "Good," she said, and that was that.

Harry stayed and helped her cook dinner, and was greeted with affection by George and Arthur when they got in. They sat together and talked about Fred. And for the first time, Harry felt he got to know him. There was sadness yes, but it wasn't quite as raw as before, although still powerful. But they smiled as they remembered their son, their twin, and this time Harry did not feel like he was on the outside.

"Don't run away again, Harry," said Arthur as they stood side by side, looking out over the fields. "You're family, and we don't want to lose anyone else." Harry nodded. He knew now that he could come back whenever he wanted, but that they didn't expect anything more than that. He didn't have to be with Ginny or have any special insight into what they were thinking or feeling. He just had to be himself. It was a liberating thought.

Harry felt a sense of peace descend. He had a sort of home here, one he could return to for peace and acceptance. He knew he needed to find his own space, but he felt that a small hole, deep inside, had been filled.

Arthur headed back inside, and Harry sat on the old bench and enjoyed the warmth it gave off, the residual warmth of the day. He thought of Draco's story of the little tree who longed to dream. Today felt like the long winter's dream of the tree. He felt like finally he could share the feeling of love and family that other people took for granted.

Harry closed his eyes. He could see Draco, strained, telling the story his mother had told him as a child. His face was pale and beautiful in the moonlight. Harry didn't know what to think about Draco. He was confused. He had thought Draco had hated him for years, and yet, apparently, he had felt something else. Or both together, attraction and resentment, all at once.

He searched his memory for any clue to Draco's... interest in him. The closeness that had been slowly growing between them, the sharing of the personal stories from his past, the self-hatred Draco had shown every now and then: all could, he supposed be taken as signs of deeper feelings. And then Harry remembered asking Draco what he wanted, and Draco looking straight at him as he said I can't have what I want.

Then Harry sat back and took out one of the memories tucked furthest at the back. Draco's soft skin, sleep-warmed. He thought about what it meant that he had wanted to touch it every time he saw it. He thought about how he missed Draco. He missed the way he felt alive when they were together. He missed talking to Draco. He missed the feeling of sharing his time with him.

Harry had been too busy worrying about Voldemort to really think about anything else, the past few years. But now, complex feelings swirling, he was forced to acknowledge that perhaps he couldn't just leave things the way they were with Draco. Perhaps he needed to see him again, to work out how he really felt about him. About men. Perhaps pale skin and sad eyes fascinated him more than soft curves and gentle smiles ever had.

As Harry went up to sleep in the violent orange of Ron's room, he felt too big for the old familiar room. He realised that he wasn't a child anymore. He was a man, now. That night, he dreamed of unbuttoning a shirt, one button at a time, to reveal the smooth white skin below, a line of golden hairs sinking out of sight.

oOo

The next day, Harry left the Weasleys, and Apparated straight to the gates of Malfoy Manor. He needed to see Draco, he needed some answers. Even if Draco wasn't here, Narcissa would know where he was. He was dismayed though, to see the gate half-ajar. The grass inside was long, weeds growing high. With a sense of unease, Harry walked up the long path to the house. It was hot, the sun high in the sky. Clouds of midges hung over the garden, and by the time Harry reached the front door he had been bitten and was hot, sweaty and itchy. He knocked on the door, but no one came. He waited a long time before accepting that the house was, indeed, deserted.

Harry sat on the steps leading up to the door. He didn't know what to do now, where to look. He had lost Draco, all over again. And this time, he couldn't ignore the way it felt, a pain deep in his gut. He ached to see Draco. He wanted to see him how he actually was, now the truth of his feelings had been revealed. How would a conversation between the two of them be, without hiding behind a lie? Harry wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that maybe, maybe, it would be good. He wanted to be able to find out for himself.

As the sun moved across the sky, Harry thought about Draco. How long had Harry been watching him? Why had he been so obsessed? Remembering the vague details of his dream from the night before was enough to awaken feelings in Harry's body which he had ignored for a very long time. He gave into despair. He had come close to happiness, but it had escaped him.

>>Chapter Eight