The wards shivered at the lack of people in Grimmauld Place, but the clamor in the kitchen from Kreacher cleaning up supper made it still feel very full.

The warmth coming from Malfoy's hand on Harry's lower back didn't help the stuffy feeling though.

"Malfoy-" he let it slip before he could control it, trying to get him to stop touching him and also in an attempt to start the dreaded conversation, to break his heart.

"Potter," he sighed, looking off, "It's Potter or Draco, just pick one, Harry."

"I'm sorry, really, but you've got to listen-"

"It doesn't matter," Draco said, brushing off the whole thing and putting some space between them, "I imagine you talked to Hermione about going home... that she figured it out? I just need this nightmare to be over. I've been trying so hard with you, and tonight was nice, formidable even, but this really makes me miss how easy already having you was, or him. Whatever."

This wasn't the time for this conversation, as much as he felt he needed to have it now. It would be cruel, maybe as cruel as waiting, but if they did this now, Draco's marriage would end sooner than he would like. Tomorrow at least, Harry could decide if Malfoy deserved even a chance.

"Can we talk about all this tomorrow? It's been the longest day of my life, and trust me... I've seen a lot."

Draco sighed, fed-up though trying not to be.

"Tomorrow, sure. I might feel better after some sleep. Where... fuck, Harry, where do you usually sleep? Assuming you even live here in your world..."

"Second floor."

"Right. I'll see you in the morning then. I'll send Kreacher with some clothes for you."

He apparated on the spot and left Harry all on his own, feeling even more guilty as he crashed into the couch, not wanting to see his own room empty and set up for a guest.

Kreacher popped in and out with an offending toss of his clothes. He saw where his elf's loyalties lay, though he probably only assumed he and Mafloy were pissed at one another.

Trudging up the stairs, too afraid he might splinch himself, Harry changed and went to bed, unable to cry but unable to rest peacefully either.

The heavy footsteps from the fourth floor were probably in his head, but he understood them regardless.

The next morning was daunting. It came all too soon, no matter how many times he would roll over and try to grab another hour of sleep it would only be minutes at a time. Finally at nine on that bleary Saturday morning, Harry dragged himself up.

Draco was already downstairs with breakfast when he went down, Harry wearing clothes that he stole from the closet on the fourth floor after invading their room. It felt like an invasion, despite the fact that this was going to be his permanent residence. Now only to tell the prim and proper blonde sitting at his dining room table.

"Morning, Hare."

"Morning, Draco."

He looked up briefly, as though his husband had returned to him. It didn't help Harry as he sat across from him, feeling more nervous than the time he faced the Hungarian Horntail in the tri-wizard tournament. This was the same thing really.

"Can we have that talk now?" He started delicately, not in the least bit hungry as Draco took a bite of a perfectly cooked egg.

"We ought to."

Gripping his wand below the table, Harry spoke evenly.
"Hermione and I were talking last night about the unchanged changes to us, and how things like this happen. Time is delicate, she knows better than anyone having taken extra classes in our third year using a time-turner. She's brilliant, but even I came to the conclusion last night that... well, our minds won't be able to go back."

Having focused on the food before Draco and not the man himself, Harry didn't have a clear picture of what his face looked like. Not until he heard the same anguished sob that had broken from him in the bathroom their sixth year... a fight that hadn't ever happened to this Malfoy.

He looked now, though, and the amount of anger and tragedy splashed across Draco's face was enough to finally cause Harry to feel something other than pity for him. He cared about Draco, this one at least, and only a day later, too. This wasn't exactly fun for him either.

"I'm never getting you back?"

It was best to let him assume he was talking to his Harry, for he certainly wasn't going to interrupt to correct.

"No... I'm sorry."

"Merlin's... fuck, Harry this is-" Draco slammed the table and got up, Harry following him as they went into the living room.

"I am sorry, Draco, really. I... don't understand, but I'm willing to try and get to know you."

Turning on him, seething as voraciously as the actual dragon from Harry's fourth year, he felt true fear.

"You don't get to say shite to me right now, Harry. You're right you don't understand, you're very fucking bloody right!" Draco put a harsh finger in his chest, and he only swallowed the hurt to let him get out the anger. "You aren't even friends with me in another life and I'm the one who has to deal with that? I don't love you, I love him, and this hurts because you are him, you tosser."

Draco pushed his hair back and retreated towards the fireplace as though contemplating where to go.

"Obviously Hermione has a softer heart than you ever will considering Severus gets to live on blissfully not knowing his own wife isn't exactly herself anymore. Bloody git."

Turning to look at him, Harry had a feeling the lay-in he was getting wasn't done.

"Your parents? They don't know either, they think they have their perfect son who's climbed through society as any Potter should, and what now? They wanted grandchildren, but it seems they might get more than they bargained for because I-"

He was prey, and Draco was the predator, his words sharper than any teeth out there.

"I know. I know, and therefore I get the bloody fucking shaft. It doesn't matter even if I do love you, I can love any version of you, I think, even this one, but you won't let me do that will you? So I can't. I hope you find a nice woman... settle down with her instead, after the absolute hell you're going to wrought on my life."

Harry shook his head.

"Hermione thinks I should give you a chance."

"Hermione," Draco spat, though he knew it wasn't directed at her. "What do you think, Harry?"

"I can try."

And he meant it. Deep deep down there was still so much hurt, but this was someone else with the same face as his Malfoy, and for ruining both their lives as it was already, it felt like the least he could do.

"Fuck." Draco heaved a sigh. He looked war-beaten.

"Draco-"

"Harry, please. I won't even touch you, I just need some part of today to be normal... I was expecting my life back."

With a pathetic sigh he looked him dead in the eye and said, "So was I."

Draco began to cry again, and instead of throwing an unknown hex at his chest, Harry did what he should've done the first time. Approaching the dragon for its egg fourth year had indeed been easier, and with soft steps and some twisted form of just plain getting it, he touched Draco's shoulder and let him fall into an embrace. This was cathartic, softening twenty-four hours of hurt as they silently cried together.

"I am sorry."

Leaning back, Draco looked at him oddly. "For what?"

"For taking away the soul you loved. The bloody book. Hermione and I being attacked. Allowing myself to be bested. Pick your poison. I've got no idea how I was beat, let alone Hermione... it's like the person knew what we were going to do and- Oh Merlin, we just left the scene and no one has said anything..."

They were still in one-another's arms as Draco laughed at him.

"They probably saw you and Hermione and thought nothing of it."

Harry wasn't so sure, "I don't know, there was a little bit of damage.. Maybe a whole window."

"It's an easy clean-up for wizards, you know, the thing you are."

Finally realizing where he was, Harry stepped away and felt the divide slam down between them again as they both came to their senses, the pressure of the situation falling in.

"I was raised by muggles. They never told me I was a wizard until Hagrid literally knocked the door down when I turned eleven. There was nothing good about my first level years."

"Bloody hell."

They sat down on opposite ends of the couch, Malfoy lounging while Harry chose a more proper stance.

"I mean, you and I, we hated each-other, even before the war. You were a spoiled brat because of your family's money, and eventually you just got swept into Voldemort's followers, some of whom I was still fighting until yesterday. You can imagine my shock in this situation right now."

The fact it had only been a day, one whirlwind of a day, was enough to make Harry nauseous. He closed his eyes and moved his hands over them, under his glasses.
It really shouldn't have taken him so long to come across his next discovery, but he wasn't exactly in his right mind here, was he?

"My scar's gone, I reckon?"

He opened his eyes again and found Draco a little closer.

"What scar?"

"Right. Hermione mentioned it briefly, but I survived the killing curse as a baby, which was how Voldemort fell the first time and how I got my scar. Then the second time I survived it was when I was seventeen and we won the war for good."

Mouth agape, Draco seemed quite intrigued by this information, if not a little horrified. "You survived the killing curse... twice?"

"I was famous for it, and for killing Voldemort, but I never... ever, could have done that without Dumbledore's Army, Hermione, Ron, Snape, and the Order of course."

"The order?" Draco parroted.

"Yeah," Harry couldn't believe he needed to explain this, but such things came with your world getting flipped upside down. "The Order of the Phoenix, they were the adult's secret Resistance to Voldemort, for both wars. The DA was my own organization in fifth year when we had no other options."

Nodding, as though this made all the sense in the world, he went along with the explanation.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

Harry shrugged. They hadn't resolved much earlier, leaving questions unanswered and things unasked. He really had to screw his courage to the sticking place for this one however.

"Are you willing to let me try to get used to all this? I don't just... Hermione isn't the only one who can see you deserve a chance at having something like your old life back, I know you're you.. And not him. Maybe my heart will know one day too."

Draco might have melted him with the smile he gave him.

"Yeah, bollocks, of course Harry. Like I said yesterday, even though I didn't know it at the time, I meant that I'd do anything for you... even this version who is, admittedly, not my most favorable of options."

Grinning, Harry stuck out his hand and they shook on it. He understood Malfoy... Draco completely.

"And I'm sorry for earlier-" he started, but Harry wouldn't hear a lick of an apology from a man who deserved to let out all his frustrations.

"Draco-"

But he was persistent.

"No, Harry, I mean it. I shouldn't have snapped. I just feel, well, I feel heartbroken." Shamelessly, he put his hand on Harry's face and added, "We'll get through this, yeah? One way or another?"

Harry's heart was beating erratically, the touch foreign and slightly unwelcome yet necessary. This was the start of a whole new life... for both of them.

"Yeah, one way or another."