Disclaimer: Memories in this chapter contain quotes from Deathly Hallows, as they are events from the book rather than my own writing.

"Dinner is ready, kind Master," Kreacher's voice came from behind the door.

Harry sat up from where he had been leaning over his model quidditch set – great for setting up strategies and then seeing the numerous ways they could go terribly wrong – and stretched. When Ron and Hermione had left, he had shut himself in his room, hoping that Malfoy would take a hint and keep to himself. It felt ridiculous, hiding in his room in a house that he was used to being completely empty, but he supposed he would have to get used to it.

Malfoy was already at the table when he came downstairs. He nodded to Harry with something bordering on civility, and then ruined it by speaking. "So how often am I going to be graced with the presence of the Weasel and the Mudblood?" he asked airily. "A shame though it will be to miss their charming faces, I think I may have to schedule in something a touch more riveting, like my laundry."

"I said give it a rest, Malfoy," Harry said, sitting down. "That goes for you too. Don't use that word about Hermione, and would it kill you to say Ron's name?"

Malfoy gave a fake shudder. "I'll settle for 'the Weasley', and hope for the best."

Harry lifted the soup ladle from the large bowl in the middle and served himself. It smelled delicious. "Besides," he said, passing the ladle to Malfoy. "You'll probably never have to see them again. They're going on holiday for half a year, and by then you probably won't be here anymore."

Malfoy's mouth twitched, like he was fighting back a smirk. "One way or another," he said airily, and served himself soup.

Kreacher hurried around them, bringing buttered bread rolls with thick slices of ham and cheese.

"I was thinking," Harry said after a while.

"Must be a new experience," Malfoy quipped instantly.

Harry ignored him. "Maybe it would be worth us working together at home on those memories, and trying to locate the last few Death Eaters? Then you can go home quicker."

Malfoy stopped eating, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth, and stared at him. "I hate to break it to you, Potter," he said after a pause. "But those memories aren't exactly a stroll by the lake for me. I'd rather not spend the precious hours I have away from the Ministry knee deep in more of them, with – no offence – the Boy Who Didn't Know When To Quit by my side. You're not the hero anymore, Potter. You've done your bit. Give it up."

Harry glared at him. "You don't just 'give up' doing the right thing," he argued. "And we don't have to look at your memories."

"Oh?" Malfoy sneered. "Which other Death Eater did you have in mind?"

"We could look at mine," Harry replied calmly, refusing to take the bait.

Malfoy looked surprised for a second. "What would yours show?" His tone, for the first time, sounded more curious than spiteful.

"Different things seen from Voldemort's perspective," Harry said, taking a bite from his roll.

Malfoy hesitated. He seemed to be warring with curiosity and some unnamed reticence to accept Harry's offer. Harry had a sudden thought.

"They're not as confronting as your memories," he offered casually, as if he were merely making conversation. "Mainly he was just getting angry at people, but he rarely tortured them while I was linked with him. At the time I wasn't really paying attention to anything beyond Voldemort, but you might recognize someone in there."

Malfoy nodded slowly. "And I might get home quicker," he repeated Harry's words. That seemed to do it for him. He looked up at Harry and nodded again, firmly. "I have a Pensieve upstairs."

"Of course you do," Harry said, laughing despite himself. He had heard Malfoy arranging furniture all afternoon. It sounded like he had half a house worth of possessions in the upstairs rooms now.

Malfoy's lip quirked in what Harry thought might have been a smile, but stiffened again quickly before he could be sure.

"Can we let the food settle before we start?" He asked. His tone was casual, but behind it, Harry heard something that reminded him of the kind of memories Malfoy was anticipating.

"Sure," he said easily, and went back to his soup.

Malfoy wrinkled his nose and look sideways at the ground, as if looking for something. He stood up and went into the larder.

As he did, the kitchen door burst open.

"Harry, did you hear?" Ginny ran over to give him a hug. "Eight months! Can you believe it? While the rest of us clean up the mess. It's typical of Ron, isn't it? Going off on some massive holiday while everything is still settling."

Harry laughed and returned her hug. Ginny never bothered to announce herself to Kreacher. It was only Hermione who was polite enough to consider that he might be in a state unready to receive guests. Ginny and her brother just burst in like family, which, in a way, he preferred.

"Well, I think they've earned it," he said diplomatically.

Ginny's eyes turned suddenly serious. "Eight months, Harry," she said with a warning tone. "A lot can happen in eight months. Have you told them yet?"

Harry shook his head. He understood that he should probably tell them soon, but he hadn't found the right moment yet. Besides, it was his news to tell, if he wanted to at all. There was no protocol to dictate a timeline. Given the single-minded focus of the last seven years, he found it strange to consider a situation where he would need to tell them.

"Harry, you have to tell them! Not because they need to know – it wouldn't matter if they never knew - but because it's something that you need to be comfortable with in yourself-"

"Hey!" Harry yelled, interrupting her. He had suddenly remembered Malfoy in the larder. "Ginny, speaking of things I have to tell people, Malfoy is staying with me."

"What?" Ginny's eyes went wide.

On cue, Malfoy strolled out of the larder with a large pepper shaker. He nodded in her general direction without looking at her, before proceeding to douse his soup so completely in pepper that it looked more like mushroom soup than potato and leek.

"Oh... kay," Ginny said slowly. "Why not, I guess." She turned Harry. "Why not? Or, more to the point, why? Why the hell is Malfoy living with you?"

Harry sighed and gave her the same explanation he had given Ron and Hermione. Technically not a lie anymore, Harry noticed that Malfoy still picked up on his omissions, glancing up at Harry suspiciously. Thankfully, he chose not to correct them.

"Well, that's nice," Ginny said with a smile. She seemed to be taking the same approach as Hermione. Which, given her past history with the Malfoy family, was considerably more admirable. Maybe it did bode well for wizarding relations. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to go," she said, looking genuinely apologetic at leaving him with Malfoy, as if he wasn't going to be stuck with him for half a year anyway. "I just came by to see if, well, to see. You, that is. I'll see you later."

Harry grinned at her as she fumbled her way through an excuse that could rival one of Ron's, and stood up to see her to the fireplace.

"You should find a way to tell them, Harry," she whispered, as she took a handful of the Floo powder sitting on the mantelpiece.

"Not with several thousand kilometres between us," Harry replied. "That wouldn't work well for anyone. I'll tell them when they get back. Maybe."

Ginny made a concerned face at him, but seemed to accept it. She leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, before throwing the powder in and going home to The Burrow.

Harry went back to the kitchen.

"Trouble in paradise?" Malfoy asked with false manners.

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"You and the Weaslette," Malfoy said.

Under Harry's stern glare, he amended his statement to "you and the second Weasley."

"None whatsoever," Harry replied, figuring that was the best he was going to get from Malfoy. "We aren't dating."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

To Harry's horror, he felt himself blushing. But he'd be damned if he told Malfoy before he told his best friends.

"What were you looking for when you got the pepper?" he asked, remembering Malfoy looking down at the ground.

"Checking for Kreacher," he said, sipping a large spoonful of his liquid pepper in apparent enjoyment.

Harry frowned.

"Didn't want to hurt his feelings by getting the pepper," Malfoy explained. "It tastes good, I just like a lot of spice."

Harry stared at Malfoy, his jaw feeling comically light.

"What?" Malfoy said when he spotted the look. "I'm allowed to have a favourite house elf. It just so happens you only have one, so I'm rather limited in my choices."

Harry shook his head slowly and went back to his food.

About an hour after lunch, they met in the room that Malfoy had set up for everything that wouldn't fit in his bedroom. Harry felt briefly like he had stepped into another world. The curtains were drawn, thick black velvet blocking out the sun so that the potion sitting on the table beneath the window could simmer uninhibited by sunlight. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with a collection that would make Hermione jealous, but that looked positively boring to Harry.

A chest hovered in the middle of the room, in front of a table and two chairs that had already been there. Its latches looked suspiciously like teeth. When they entered, it scuttled off to the side and was still. Harry watched it cautiously, and decided to sit on the chair that was facing it.

Malfoy sat opposite him and tapped his wand lightly on the Pensieve in the middle of the table. The liquid rippled and was clear.

"After you, Potter," Malfoy said. If he was apprehensive, he wasn't showing it.

Harry thought for a second, before lifting his wand to his head and slowly drawing a small tendril of silver free. He let it fall into the Pensieve and leaned forward, trusting Malfoy to follow.

In a few seconds they were standing in a dark room. Harry was immediately filled with the violent rage he remembered so clearly. He looked around the room, and realized he was looking through Voldemort's eyes again. It was as if Voldemort were still alive. The room was filled a strange, dark, red haze. Someone was screaming.

With shock he realized it was Malfoy. Not memory Malfoy, who wasn't in this memory, but real Malfoy. Harry quickly grabbed hold of Malfoy's arm and pulled them free.

Back in the room, Malfoy sat huddled over the table, shuddering.

"Was that some kind of joke, Potter?" Malfoy gritted his teeth and glared up at Harry. His face was deathly white.

Harry wasn't feeling so good himself. That hadn't been like a normal Pensieve memory, like watching a movie. He had relived that as it had happened the first time. But it didn't explain why Malfoy was so shaken.

"I'm not sure what happened," Harry retorted, rubbing his scar absentmindedly. "It was like I was reliving the memory instead of watching it. Except you were there."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, reliving it? It was like that the first time?"

Harry frowned in confusion. "Well, yeah. Why?"

Malfoy leant his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. "I should have realized," he muttered. "You can be forgiven, since you're an idiot, but I should have known better."

"Known what?" Harry snapped.

"That was one of The Dark Lord's memories, correct?" Malfoy asked without opening his eyes.

"That was one of Voldemort's memories, yeah," Harry said.

Malfoy opened his eyes. "Well, that's just it. It wasn't technically your memory. It was his. You didn't experience it the way you experience normal memories. It was sensory and abstract. So the only way to live it is sensorial and abstract. That's why it felt like we were looking through The Dark Lord's eyes, but also like we had a physical presence and could see each other." He took a deep breath and shut his eyes again. "I might need a minute before we go back."

Harry didn't say anything. He continued to rub his scar, which was tingling with remembered pain.

"Was it always like that?" Malfoy asked quietly.

"Like what?" Harry asked, leaning back with a sigh.

"The anger."

"Yeah, pretty much." Harry looked up to see Malfoy watching him. "You ready?" he asked.

This time they were more prepared, but it was still no use. Malfoy thought he might recognize one or two of the Death Eaters, but he couldn't remember where he had seen them. And as much as he didn't like to admit it, it was obvious that Malfoy had trouble staying in Voldemort's memories for very long.

Back in Malfoy's sitting room, Harry and Malfoy sat in silence.

"So, you really pissed him off," Malfoy said after a while.

That surprised a laugh out of Harry. When he looked up, he saw that Malfoy was looking at him with a strange expression. Almost rueful.

"Oh, there's more," Harry said, remembering the last few of Voldemort's visions. He drew his wand to his head and brought the final memory into the Pensieve.

He saw Malfoy stiffen next to him as they materialised into this new memory. Malfoy Manor came into shape around them, and Harry looked down on his own swollen face as he lay huddled on the carpet.

"Hate to break it to you, but I've seen this one," Malfoy said drily.

"Not quite," Harry muttered.

The memory shifted, and they were filled again with rage and fury. A skeletal man lay on the floor of a shadowy cell.

"So you have come. I thought you would ... one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it."

"You lie!"

Harry felt his own voice snarl the words as the scene dissolved again. Next to him, Malfoy was clutching his throat in shock, while the Harry on the ground seemed to be fighting the urge not to faint.

"He's by himself for a few minutes," Harry said to Malfoy. "It's more the next memory I was after, but they're kind of linked. He was so angry over the weeks between now and the memory I'm after, that it's kind of hard to separate his visions clearly."

Malfoy nodded, but didn't turn to him. Harry turned to see what he was looking at, and saw Lucius enter the room. Looking back at Malfoy, he was surprised to see something like distaste cross his expression for a fraction of a second. So quickly you could miss it.

"Well, Draco?" Lucius said. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

The memory blurred into a haze of red.

"What else did you take?" Bellatrix screamed through the mist. "Answer me! Crucio!"

Harry knew that by this point, he and Ron were down in the cellar, but the mist did not fade to show the scenery. The intensity of emotion he could feel through his link with Voldemort was overpowering their experience in the Pensieve. Time was moving too fast.

"Kill me then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek ... there is so much you do not understand ..."

Hermione screamed, loud and long. He felt Ron next to him, pounding on the cellar door, but he could see nothing. He couldn't even see Malfoy anymore.

"Kill me, then! You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours -" a flash of green light, and the scene dissolved.

He was standing by the sea, holding Dobby in his arms. Malfoy made a noise beside him. Turning to him, Harry saw he looked shocked.

"Dobby?" Malfoy said, his face pale.

Harry had forgotten that he had been Malfoy's house elf. He wondered if Lucius had ever told him where Dobby had gone. Given his pride, probably not.

The memory faded in a faint haze of anger, dulled in comparison to what they had experienced so far, and they were on another beach by a lake.

Memory Harry doubled over in pain, and the haze of anger built.

"What did they take?"

"A ... a s-small golden c-cup m-my Lord ..."

A scream of rage and denial rent the air, forcing Harry and Malfoy to their knees in shock and pain. In front of them a goblin was struck down in a flash of blinding, green light. Wizards scrambled over each other to get away from the deadly scene unfolding before them. Lucius and Bellatrix made it out, throwing others behind them as shields. Several others escaped, but most were killed.

Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and threw them both out of the Pensieve.