Draco Potter had come by his husband's office in the DMLE for no other reason than it was what was normal. He had craved such a thing these past few days, what with the practical memory loss they were dealing with... and because of the tension it had wrought. It was like someone was wearing his husband's skin.

Sleeping alone wasn't exactly easy either. If Draco focused on that instead of the bigger things, then maybe it wouldn't hurt so badly seeing his own husband look at him with resentment.

He felt no less than miserable, to say the least. They'd tried so many times over the weekend to get along, to move Harry just a smidge past the sour in his heart, but with no luck. It seemed every criticism was taken as a personal attack, and Draco just couldn't get a grasp on what it was the man wanted from him. He thought he'd be enough like his own Harry to figure it out. The sad truth was that this man was nothing like his own.

Draco couldn't blame him either, which he supposed is why it meant so much to him to find out what happened. He would want to do the same thing too.

So he stood in front of Harry's office, poised to knock, looking like an idiot to the rest of the aurors most likely. It was just... hard to break out of a routine, and he wanted so badly for his version of him back. He had always known exactly what went on in Harry's life for... years, every minute detail and every other person he dated or was friends with, and suddenly knowing... nothing startled him.

Regardless, Draco was resolved to at least keep trying. He meant it when he said he wouldn't give up and that he would love him forever, even this version, no matter how stubborn. So he stuck his resolve and knocked on the bloody door.

"Come in," Harry called from inside, voice muffled, and while everything sounded normal and looked the same, he had to remind himself that he couldn't just walk up and snog his husband like he used to.

"Hey," he muttered, coming around the door quickly so Harry could see him.

He looked up from a pile of work, much less organized than usual. Harry slowed, putting everything he had down, including his wand clamped between his teeth.

"Hey."

Draco slunk into the room and shut the door so nobody outside would hear their inevitable awkwardness.

"How was your morning with Dumbledore? Did you get any answers?"

If his voice might cooperate their situation would be far less painful.

"A few... I also got this back when I was told to see Professor McGonagall." Harry held up a decent sized book, untitled and bound by an antique hardcover.

Draco tentatively reached for the book, his husband putting it on his desk instead of just handing it to him, and all he could do was ground his teeth together to keep from saying something unkind. It was quite a hefty text, akin to something he and Hermione would compete to finish reading first in school. Looking expectantly back up at Harry, he was biting his lip, something that definitely would have made him snog the man if this were only a few days ago.

"Do you want me to read it?" He asked pathetically. "It won't change that I love you, if that's what you want."

It had been said before his mind argued against it, and with the damage done, he let it float in the air.

"I do want you to read it," Harry said plainly, his face still and calculating. "And I'm not trying to stop you from loving me, I'm trying to rationalize this whole thing. You can't just expect me to love you back."

"How many times are we going to have this exact same argument before you get it through that thick skull of yours that I don't expect you to love me at all. I do, however, want a pigmy-puff's worth of respect for the fact that despite everything, we're bonded here. Magically. I at least deserve that much while I'm mourning a marriage that is still very real."

The tongue lashing seemed to dampen Harry, and because Draco knew him so well, he could see the nausea in his face. He himself felt nauseous.

If Harry didn't want to love him back, and was sure of that, then maybe it was best he offer... his heart shattered, he couldn't even bear the pain of thinking it.

"If you want to get the bonds dissolved, we'll have to wait. It can't come out of the blue, everyone knows we are- were, sickeningly happy."

His chest was on fire with the words, anatomy Hermione had explained to him several times over was a fickle thing, and even then he could feel it. Why couldn't his eyes stop watering and jaw stop quivering? His fucking throat hurt, too.

"Why are you here?"

It seemed like Harry didn't want to confront that reality either, whether it was because he knew dissolution of bonds was painful or because it was what he wanted and he was finally providing him with a modicum of decency, Draco didn't know. Either way, he'd come to have lunch with his husband so that's what he was going to attempt to do.

"Lunch. I usually come here to get lunch with you. Staying at home... as I do, gets lonely."

Harry sighed, looking at his desk for something, then checking his watch.

"Why not?" He looked at him pathetically. "Where do we usually go?"

"Café down around the block," Draco said, attempting to push down the hope in his heart. He gripped the book a little tighter.

"Alright." Harry walked around his desk and slipped the book from Draco's hands, making him feel all the more sick. Maybe he'd just get tea at Meryn's on his own.

The walk there was quiet, both of them passing fake smiles to look normal to the rest of the Ministry. Harry held the door open for him downstairs, and for a brief moment, he was able to pretend everything was normal between the two of them. Then when they were outside, the smiles fell and his moment was gone.

The café was quicker than usual that day and neither of them ordered their usual, but one couldn't be blamed. They sat down, much too quickly for their liking and were finished with their meals even faster, Harry finishing first and mindlessly looking through his book. Draco glared at it if only because he hated putting blame on actual people.

This was all the book's fault, and he was determined now, to see in written thoughts what had gone on between the two of them.

"What happened that makes you hate me so much, Harry?"

"I don't hate you," he started, but Draco wouldn't let him finish.

"That's what you say, but you're clinging to some type of resentment that won't go away."

Harry flipped through the book in front of him, bending back the pages and thrusting it back at him. Draco held up his hands at first, feeling a bit like he was under attack. The resolute look on his husband's face said there wasn't any getting out of this.

Taking the book, Draco read through a few blurbs of thought before his first two interactions with the Malfoy that seemed like a caricature of evil. The page flipping and reading bursts of a non-existent past happened several times over until it felt like Draco had received whiplash from a pensieve of memories. They'd fought on two different sides of a real, catastrophic war. He'd heard of blood purists, known his family had once held those ideals, but they were distant, especially considering they'd dissolved any notion of pure-blooded wizards and witches when everyone was more worried about Grindelwald wanting the muggle world and magical one to merge. His ancestors had desired secrecy and complete removal from muggles altogether, not to have to babysit them.

By the time Grindelwald had been taken down, enough pure-blooded families had found muggles deep within their family lines, they rallied against Dumbledore's killing of the child Riddle, and moved on without this hatred in their hearts. Self-preservation was a hell of a potion.

Draco was sickened, he didn't think any version of himself could subscribe to these things, not really.

He handed Harry the book feeling sick to his stomach, his body truly having gone through too much to be there in that moment with his husband looking... well he couldn't quite read that expression.

Harry verbally continued the story quietly, "You saved my life, even when you and your whole family's life depended on my death, as did your mother. What I'm trying to tell you is that... I don't-" he groaned, looking as though this might hurt, and Draco prepared himself to feel the same. "I'm giving myself time, I can't live in my old world, I don't even know why I'd want to. Single, an orphan, a bloody savior as they liked to call me. I only had Hermione and Ron, they were my family, I should want more. It's just... well, it's only been three- four bloody days, I still think this is a dream."

Draco had hoped they were done with all this drama after seventh year, but time had a strange way of biting you in the arse. It wasn't even normal wizard drama like who cast a color-changing spell on Oliver Wood's hair second year.

"I was in my office not an hour ago thinking still I might be able to go back, to spare us from this. I know Hermione is right, she always is. The bottom line is that it isn't your fault, I know I've been treating you like it is, and then you take me to lunch despite it all," Harry laughed as though it was the answer to everything. "You're looking at me like a spooked fairy and I can't help but see the Draco that previous me respected on top of mine. The one I stood on the stand for and put my sanity in question to defend. You're not him, but if he deserved the benefit of the doubt, you deserve twice as much. You deserve for me to be kind, if not loving. I'm sorry for the past few days."

Draco swallowed his response. He couldn't exactly say he knew what any of that had meant in full, but it seemed like it might be a good thing considering his shy smile.

"I, ya know, don't love you yet," with all the things this new Harry had been admitting, Draco could probably not have cared less he'd said this. He'd been promised kindness, that was enough for now to at least not make his home a battlefield. "But I am willing to care... to acclimate myself while I allow you at least a little bit of normalcy. Merlin, I can hardly reckon how Hermione does what she does. I sometimes wish I hadn't told you, that we'd tried to figure everything out on our own. I just keep reminding myself everything happens for a reason, and now I'm rambling... my point is-"

It was stunning to Draco that someone's demeanor could change so drastically in such a short period of time. He took the first step now in hopes to excuse his lack of response and took Harry's hand across the table.

"Things are different, that's how it is now, and I don't ever want to be cruel," he added, gently squeezing Draco's hand. He could've cried at the affection.

Draco smiled, praying to whatever muggle god might listen that he meant it. No dissolving their bonds... hopefully.

"Now call me Draco Potter," he ordered, intertwining their fingers.

Harry only rolled his eyes, not seeming upset by the change in mood, though he did glance at their hands together.

"Baby steps, Potter."

Close enough.

"If you and Hermione need anything still, I'd be happy to enrich your notes. I'm glad you're picking up your old habits."

Harry chuckled. "It helps... I didn't think it would, but Hermione has rubbed it in my face already a few times, so if my husband could spare me that, I'd be appreciative."

Draco glowed, or at least it felt like he did. It sounded right and casual, but he tried not to scare him off getting overly excited as he watched him check his watch. Was it really time for him to go already?

"I've got to get going, do you usually walk back with me, or?"

"No," Draco shook his head and bit back saying that he wanted to today, however. "I go to an apparition point."

"Right," Harry said, looking nervous again. Draco felt him slide his hand away then, and he understood.

"I'll see you at home?"

"See you at home," Harry agreed, getting up and offering him his hand again, if only for him to get up.

Draco could fall in love all over again, and he wasn't afraid to say it as he watched him walk out of the café.

"I love you," and with those words unheard, he went blissfully to apparate.

Harry returned to his office promptly, finding a few interdepartmental notes and a case file, his shoulders much less tense now that things with Draco had smoothed over... and his mind was less muddied from the day's events than before too. Maybe the tension had been weighing heavier on his conscience than he'd thought.

His thoughts were broken instantly when Hermione came into his office. She looked quite nervous as she took the first tentative step forward, her body slouching in an unusual fashion.

"They wanted me to tell you... your father's been attacked."

"By who?" Harry shot up immediately.

"Pettigrew."

"Is he alright?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, "He is at Mungo's for as long as it takes to run some diagnostic spells, though, just to make sure."

Palpable relief filled the room.

"Good. Did he say who he wanted doing the investigation?"

"No one, he wants it kept quiet until he can figure out what else Pettigrew is planning."

Harry nodded curtly at her while she seemed to grow anxious.

"Hermione," he started curiously, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing really... just- here," Hermione said, taking out a planner and handing it to him, pointing to the upcoming Friday.

"Dinner with Potters, I, A, R, and B. L and N occupied."

"A friends dinner, I imagine Severus isn't invited, he hasn't mentioned it. He likes to be painfully prepared, that one."

Harry added another emotion to his list that day, thinking about how far away Friday was and where he and Draco might stand then... when he met his own bloody sister and sister-in-law.

"That'll be interesting."

"For certain... Where were you for lunch by the way? I came to eat with you."

"I was with... Draco actually. I apologized for being a git. Apparently lunch is a daily thing, as if I don't see enough of him." It was a warm hearted joke, and Hermione saw right through him.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry could see the satisfaction plastered on her face. She was far too happy with herself.

"Things don't seem too bad here after all, now, do they?"