55Chapter 23: ASTTWT 12: I've Already Lost Myself
And so the Tables Were Turned …, part twelve: I've Already Lost Myself
Harry honestly did not know what to think—all he knew was that Draco had been molested by Slutty Piper again, acted really weird directly after it happened, and two hours later she was dead. Was it really just a coincidence? Or did Draco actually have something to do with it? Harry did not want to believe that his boyfriend had set the murderous Malfoy Piper loose merely because he'd been pissed with Slutty's slutty ways and got tired of her.
Sure, he did not want the clones there—Harry did not, either—but surely he would never go to such extremes as to actually have one of them killed! Right?
He spent many hours the following days contemplating this, and as he had done many times before, he now sat and watched Draco without his knowledge. Desperately searching for some kind of sign that he was changing like he had changed the night of their double date with Ron and Jonathan. But nothing.
If there really had been something strange about Draco that night, it had apparently been a one-time thing only. At least that was a comfort … But still. There seemed to be something going on with Draco that he would not tell Harry about, and it concerned him. Draco always told him everything, and he got furious whenever Harry broke his promise and did not tell him something.
"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked, and totally shattered his line of thinking.
He blinked. "Huh?"
"You keep staring at me all the time. It's creepy. You don't have any emotions in your eyes—you're just staring."
"Oh. Sorry." Harry forced himself to look away. He could feel Draco studying him intently, trying to figure out what was wrong. Eventually, Harry found the strength to ask the question that had been burning on his tongue for over four days now. He looked up at his lover. "Draco … did you have anything to do with Slutty's death?" he wondered cautiously.
Draco jerked as if he had been hit in the face. Then he swiftly rose from the armchair he had been reading in, an indignant and hurt expression on his face. "I can't believe you just asked me that," he said, and Harry had the feeling that he had done something utterly stupid again.
He hurried after Draco. "Wait! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have suspected you like that! Dracums, please stop and just listen to me for a second. It's not like I actually thought you'd murdered her or even set Malfoy Piper loose on her, it's just … doesn't it seem a little too convenient to you? She had sexually harassed you for the umpteenth time and then suddenly she turns up dead and Malfoy's loose? Doesn't that seem weird to you?"
Draco just stared at him with black eyes.
Harry sighed and drove his fingers through his long, blond hair. "I'm sorry, I'm a jerk and a total bastard, I should just shut my big mouth and stop thinking so bloody much all the time," he muttered self-mockingly. The therapy was not exactly helping, was it? He was already criticising himself again.
"You should get a haircut," Draco said indifferently. "I want my hair to be just like it was when I get my body back, don't forget that. I love my hair—it's my best feature."
"No, your best feature's your eyes," Harry objected. "Dracums, please, will you forgive me for ever suspecting you? I know you're not capable of that, but I had to ask, didn't I? Please …"
Draco thought about it for a moment. "If you agree to some angry make-up sex I might forgive you," he then said defiantly.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "But I'm not angry, I—"
Draco bitch-slapped his face with all his might.
Harry clenched his right hand in fury. "Hey! What the fuck d'you do that for?!" he yelled.
The blonde just sneered with satisfaction. "Now you are," he pointed out. "So, will you throw me down and take me or do I have to slap you again, bitch?"
"What are you talking abou—"
The blonde slapped him again, harder this time.
Harry felt his blood rushing at a furious rate through his arteries and veins, and he could practically feel the adrenaline surging through his body. "You're gonna regret you did that," he said, and violently grabbed Draco, pulling him up to him.
Draco gave him a challenging look. "Make me regret it, bitch."
Harry gave a roar of frustration and fury and threw Draco down on the heavy 18th century mahogany coffee table—the expensive collector's ornaments that had been passed down through the Malfoy generations clanked down onto the floor, but nothing shattered or broke—and savoured the fleeting look of pain on the blonde's face. Draco wanted to be hurt, he wanted it rough because he was so angry, and Harry was more than willing to give him rough if that was what he wanted.
He tore open Draco's shirt, sending buttons flying through the air, and completely tore off his trousers in a rabid frenzy. Draco grunted approval and, still holding his wand in his right hand, said, "Blockado." All the entrances to the room were effectively blocked from intrusion by other people; no-one would walk in on them or even see them in there.
Harry slammed his lips down on the blonde's, sucking life out of him. Draco fumbled with Harry's trousers and hurriedly pulled them down slightly over his thighs, then urged him to come inside him as if saying "Don't bother with the bloody pants, just get on with it already!" Harry would not disappoint him; he forced inside and immediately began to thrust hard into the blonde, completely controlled by his own fury and his own need to get the frustration out of his body.
Draco screamed out loud, long shrill squeals like some sort of animal, and violently rose to meet him halfway, trying to force Harry deeper into him, clutching his shoulders for his life. "Fuck you, bitch, fuck you!" Draco snarled, digging his nails into Harry's back and shoulders.
Harry performed an extra hard thrust that made Draco open his mouth wide in a loud shriek. "No, fuck you, you over-sensitive bad-mouth!" he growled into the blonde's face. "Fucking slapping me in my face when I've done nothing …"
Draco grabbed Harry's buttocks and squeezed hard. "You did something … haaahh … you did … fuck, yes! You accused me of … hah, hah, hah … of …" The words died away because Draco was suddenly shaken by an orgasm so powerful that he went completely mute; he squeezed Harry's buttocks even harder.
When the shudders had passed, he went straight on, not the least bit turned off; on the contrary, he seemed to be even hornier now than he had been before, and he was still bloody angry with Harry. "You accused me of killing Slutty, you bastard, you fucking bastard! Now show me you love me or I'll bloody kill you instead!" he snarled, and used all the strength he possessed in his hands and arms to push Harry deeper into him as Harry simultaneously thrust faster, the frustration in him building up to something else and enabling him to go on and on even though he felt like he was on the verge of exploding.
"I – said – I – was – sorry!" he yelled, one word per hard thrust.
"I don't know if I can forgive you …," Draco was saying harshly, but then he seemed to be taking a turn to new heights again; he bucked beneath Harry, a wonderfully euphoric expression on his flushed, slightly sweaty face. "I … I … I might … forgive you … oh, God … ah, ah, ah, shit!"
He pressed his hips up and pressed Harry down on top of him at the same time, and that was when it became too much for Harry. Trembling violently, he let go and just let it happen. "Ah, Draco … baby … come for me …"
Draco threw his head back and shouted incoherently—God, was he loud! Harry wondered if that was what he had sounded like that time Draco had wound up laughing at him for being 'corny.' He slid down beside Draco, lying on his back, panting. "Shit, that was intense," he said. "Did I make you change your mind?"
"Hardly. You're gonna have to do more than that if I'm going to let this one slip," Draco snorted. "Remember what you promised me. This was one of the conditions for me staying with you, right? You can't bloody treat me any shitty way you like and just expect me to bear with it."
Harry felt a new surge of fury pass through him. "How can you turn this around on me?! Not everything's my fault around here!"
"Did you hear me saying that everything around here is your fault?"
"No, but that's what you implied, wasn't it?"
"No, it wasn't. So, are you gonna do something about it already? I'm waiting and ready to go here."
"How can you still have an erection after that?!"
"Because I have stamina, dimwit."
"Call me that again and I'll slap you!"
"Like 'bitch' better?"
"Shut up!" Harry rose from the coffee table and zipped up. "I gotta pee."
"Hurry back, will ya?"
"Oh, I will hurry, alright!" Harry said with emphasis. "I'm not done with you!"
"I bloody well hope you're not, 'cos I'm still hot for you, baby."
"You gonna stay there on the table all day?"
"I may if it takes you all day to satisfy my needs," Draco said simply.
"How about we use the other furniture instead? Might help us reach an understanding."
"Good idea. Now go pee and hurry back, stud. It's getting cold."
Harry used a spell to temporarily open a crack in the blockade big enough for him to step through; it sealed itself behind him directly after going through. He was not surprised to find that Piper was lurking in the hallway outside—she'd always been too curious for her own good. "What are you two doing in there?!" she said, and stopped him.
"We're fighting," Harry told her indifferently.
She raised an eyebrow. "Fighting? Sounds more as if you're killing each other."
"Not exactly, but we do have a very special way of fighting and working through our differences."
"By screaming nonsense words at each another?" she said in lack of understanding.
"No, by actually fucking the crap out of each other—works every time. You should try it with Yousuke sometime, it really strengthens the relationship. Kept us going for more than five years."
"What?!"
"Look, I gotta pee, so could you please move? I'd rather do it in the bathroom than on you."
Even though he peed very quickly, he still had a lot of time to think, and his thoughts were not exactly bright and cheerful. As he heard his inner dialogue, he knew that it was bad, that it was really bad—he knew that he should not feel that way—yet he could not stop himself from thinking that it was all his fault.
Everything was his fault.
A part of him told him that he was worth nothing, that all he did was hurt the people he loved and eventually got them killed one way or another. Another part of him argued that he was mentally ill, that he could not help that he hurt people because it was not his fault; it was the disease that made him do it.
I hurt him, he thought miserably, I hurt my Draco … how could I have even thought anything like that of him? Why can't I trust him? I'm a lousy boyfriend, I can't even be there for the person I love the most, so how the Hell can I ever be there for anyone else? I just hurt him … all I ever do is hurt him, and he hates me, he hates me for constantly hurting him, it doesn't matter what I do to make things right—he will still hate me.
Suddenly he could not breathe, and his chest cramped up with pain. Oh, God, he was having a panic attack … Clasping the edges of the washbasin, he stared at the reflection in the mirror. He did not deserve to be in Draco's body, because the blonde was flawless and he was full of flaws and he was mentally ill. He hated himself, and he wanted to hurt himself. He actually reached for Piper's razors in the bathroom cabinet before realising what he was doing.
"Oh, my God …," he whispered. "Did I just intend to commit suicide? I'm worse than I thought …"
Steeling himself, taking several deep breaths, he straightened up and decided to go back to the parlour and tell Draco what he had been about to do. The blonde deserved to know. And besides, if it ever happened again he would need someone to prevent him from actually doing it that time.
He did not want to die—so why did he feel ready to slash his wrists?
He gave himself one last look in the mirror. "I have to go in there and make him forgive me," he told himself.
Piper was still lurking about in the corridor outside the parlour. "Harry! Harry, what are you fighting about? You're not going to break up, are you? I have great news, but I don't know if—"
"Shut up and leave me alone, I'm not in the mood for an interview," he muttered, and walked right past her.
Draco was waiting for him impatiently on the couch, still nude. He did not seem to be quite as furious now as he had been just a couple minutes ago, but Harry was not willing to take any chances. "Did you decide on any furniture you wanna trash?" he tried to joke but sounded like a robot.
Draco did not notice the self-loathing in his voice but simply sat up. "Yep, I came to the conclusion that the chair over there looks awfully lonely," he informed him, and pointed to one of the armchairs with a lower back.
Harry looked at it. "You wanna sit in the chair?" he said in bafflement.
"No, you moron! I want you to lean over the back of the chair and let me take you from behind. I've never done that before. So, what do you say, stud?"
Harry shrugged. "Okay. Whatever."
Draco gave him an odd look. "Are you really so mad with me for slapping you that you can't even pretend to be enthusiastic about my brilliant ideas?"
"Mmm, yeah, that's it," Harry said, because he had thought better of telling Draco about his bathroom incident. Nothing had happened, and telling the blonde about it would only make him anxious in vain. He was not going to kill himself. Not as long as he had Draco by his side—which brought him back to why he needed to obey any order that Draco gave him.
He stood behind the armchair like a good boy and bent forward. To his surprise, Draco was really gentle and loving in his touch, as if sensing that Harry really needed tenderness right now. But as soon as he was starting to heat up again, he became more violent, naturally. Not 'violent' in the sense that he hit him or did anything else to hurt him physically, but in the sense that he became extremely enthusiastic and excited. He even encouraged Harry to take a turn on the couch directly after he got tired with the armchair.
Harry consented, because he was afraid that Draco would stay mad at him forever if he did not. But he did not feel very good about it—he felt awful. Was this really the only way he could make Draco love him? By giving him multiple orgasms? Was he really that lousy as a partner?
Harry hardly even registered when Draco screamed "I forgive you, I forgive you!" right before he finally slumped down on the couch, finally satisfied. He felt like a hypocrite. Here he was, pretending to be a good father to James and a good partner to Draco, but all he ever did was hurt them. How could he live with that? How could he live with himself?
Draco took his hand in his and sighed happily. "There is no way to work out one's differences like make-up sex," he said, and sounded quite pleased.
But Harry did not hear it; a huge lump had formed in his throat and tears were running down his cheeks in silent rivers, though not a sound escaped him.
"Let's just lie like this for a while, okay?"
The pain in his chest was becoming worse, and he was on the brink of another panic attack—he could feel it lurking around the corner, waiting to take him by surprise. He tried so hard not to make Draco aware of his tears that it only became harder to cry in silence; ultimately, a loud sob escaped him, and when one had broken through the barricades of his self-restraint, more were sure to come.
Draco stiffened beside him. "Harry?"
Another sob escaped him, louder and longer than the first one—then a third directly after, and he was ashamed of the despair that came along with it.
Draco whirled around to face him, and his expression was concerned and heart-broken. When he saw Harry's tear-wet face, he jerked with anxiety. "Harry, baby … what's wrong? Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?" He stroked his face, blotted his tears.
Harry could not speak at first because he was sobbing so badly, but when he finally managed to get a few words out, he just seemed to hurt Draco even more. "I hate myself …," he whispered, and Draco jerked as if he had been hit in the face.
"Oh, baby …," he said, and snuggled closer; put his arms around Harry and held him tight. They were so close their foreheads were touching. "Baby, you don't have to feel that way … you're a wonderful person, a perfectly wonderful person … There's no-one better than you, baby."
Harry stubbornly shook his head. "No, I just hurt you," he persisted. "I hurt you before … when I thought you had something to do with Slutty's death … I made you so angry … and I'm hurting you now by crying like a bloody baby … I just keep hurting you … I'm worthless …"
"No! No, you're not worthless! Never, Harry! Never! And you don't just hurt me at all—you make me happy. Hell, you make me so much happier than I deserve to be, and I'm bloody privileged to have you as my boyfriend. You don't hurt me. What made you think that?" Immediately after uttering the question he seemed to realise the answer all on his own.
Harry just sobbed on.
"Oh my God … I did this to you, didn't I? I made your self-hatred worse by egging you on like that, didn't I? Man, I really gotta learn not to take things so personally …"
Harry snivelled. "What d'you mean?"
Draco stroked his cheek with love and affection in his touch. "I always get so angry over nothing, and I always take it out on you," he confessed in a low voice. "In the end, I just end up hurting you. But you were doing so fine, you were back to your normal self, and I … I was so happy for you. I thought you beat your self-hatred and was getting well again, but now it seems as if your soul is in worse condition than any of us thought. And I'm probably to blame for some of it."
"No, don't say that, Draco, it's my fault—it's all my fault."
"No, Harry, listen. I've been pushing you way too hard the past two months because I felt taken for granted. In the long run, I ended up taking you for granted, didn't I? I've been so selfish, just thinking about me and my feelings, that I didn't see that you were hurting from it. I'm sorry, baby."
He kissed Harry's right cheek.
Suddenly Harry sat up, holding his hands to his throat. "I can't breathe, I can't breathe!" he panted in a panic.
Draco got up on his feet with a frightened expression on his face. Grabbing his wand, he said, "Colluthia," and they both got their clothes back on. He unsealed the room and with a lot of effort managed to get Harry up from the couch. He was wheezing and his grey eyes displayed utter terror.
"Are you having an anxiety attack?" Draco asked worriedly, holding him up.
Piper came into the parlour almost immediately after the seal had been broken, but Harry did not care, she could just as well see him as the worthless piece of shit he was, it did not matter.
Draco was actually glad to see her. "Piper! Quick, go to St. Mungo's and talk to Harry's therapist for me, okay? That Windpipe bastard needs to increase their meetings, once a week isn't enough anymore, he needs at least thrice a week again. He's getting worse, Piper, I can't help him with this all on my own."
Piper stood paralysed in hesitation and indecision for a long while, not knowing what to do or how to react to the scene in front of her.
"Piper, please!" Draco called to her. She swiftly nodded and went to the fireplace.
Harry was panting, trying to get a little oxygen into his lungs through small shallow breaths. "Just take me outside for a while, okay?" he begged. "I need some fresh air."
Once they had sat down on the bench down by the lake, Harry started to calm down and breathe normally. Draco held his hand and squeezed it occasionally to provide extra support and comfort. They must have sat there in silence for more than half an hour before Harry finally told him. "I almost tried to take my own life."
The blonde gasped and squeezed his hand so hard he almost crushed the bones in Harry's fingers. "Wha-what …? What did you say?"
Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "When I was in the bathroom before. That's when I started to panic. I felt worthless because all I did was hurt you and make you mad, and I wanted to hurt myself instead to make the pain in my soul go away. I almost took your sister's razors and … but I didn't, so, anyway …" He fell silent.
Draco put his arm around his lover's waist and rested his head on his shoulder. "I never realised you were this bad. Just don't ever do anything like that again, okay? If you ever feel like that again, promise me you'll come straight to me and let me help you through it, okay? Promise me, Harry."
"Yeah … promise."
"I don't want to lose you."
"Good luck, 'cos I've already lost myself."
They went back inside about an hour later and found that Piper was anxiously waiting for them, pacing up and down the parlour floor. "How are you doing?" she asked when they closed the back door behind them. "I spoke to Dr. Windpipe, and he suggested that Harry come in first thing in the morning. He's cleared his schedule for tomorrow so he'll be free to help Harry from eight in the morning till five in the afternoon if necessary. Sometimes it helps to have a known surname, huh?" She tried to smile, but only managed half a grimace. "I guess this isn't the time for my great news, is it?"
Draco helped Harry to an armchair and gave him a blanket because he was freezing. "No, it's okay. Maybe some great news is exactly what we need right now, or what do you say, Harry?"
"I wanna sleep," Harry said, and yawned.
"You'll get to sleep soon, but we had better hear Piper out first or she'll be pestering us about it all day," the blonde said simply.
Something moved outside the French windows.
Draco turned towards it and saw some orange and some kind of long cloth. "What was that?" he said, frowning. It seemed familiar somehow …
"That? Oh, it's just our new bodyguard," Piper said, and waved it away. "The Ministry is bringing in the Forgettes from Russia to help them with their Pywercaseley problems, and apparently they thought it necessary to station a few at our house in case the Dark Lord shows up here."
Draco hurried away from the windows in shock and terror. "What?! They're putting those murderous, yucky creatures outside our home?! Are they out of their bloody minds?!" He turned to his sister and pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Was that supposed to be your 'great news?' Because I don't like it!"
Piper laughed. "Oh, no, no, no. Forgettes are hardly great news! No, Yousuke has asked me to marry him. Can you imagine? He proposed to me this morning!"
She began to hop up and down with joy—and so did Draco. "Are you serious? You're getting married? That's wonderful! You'll finally get your own house and your own family and stop bothering mine! I'm so happy for you!"
Piper stopped hopping, so Draco stopped too, wondering why she had stopped. "What are you talking about?" she asked in confusion. "I'm not going to move out, I like it here in the country. Yousuke's moving in here with me. We'd like to stay close to the family, Japanese tradition and all, you know …"
"Then what about his family?!" Draco yelled furiously. "Can't you stay close to them instead?!"
"Yousuke has no family except for his sister, so she's moving here too. Isn't it wonderful?" She began to hop like mad man again, but this time Draco did not hop with her.
"You're … you're moving in here? All of you?" he echoed weakly.
"Yeah, they're coming here tomorrow. Drakie-poops, you wouldn't mind if we occupied a few more rooms, would you? Two isn't quite gonna cut it anymore …"
"No, I guess I wouldn't … all right. "I'm starting to get used to having my life constantly ruined by you, anyway, so why not? Now your husband-to-be can help you ruin it."
"Thanks. We will."
"I wanna sleep," Harry reminded them impatiently.
"Sure," Draco said, and helped him up from the armchair. He assisted Harry up to their bedroom and into the bed; he fell asleep almost immediately. That anxiety attack must really have drained him of all his strength and energy. He asked Sensitive Piper to watch over Harry and specifically told her not to let him wander off on his own. If he did, she was to call him.
When he got back down to the parlour, Cho was standing by the fireplace. His sister was nowhere in sight, so he figured Cho must have invited herself in. "What are you doing here?" he asked with hostility.
SNAP.
"I just came to see how you were both doing," she said with a disgusting sickly-sweet smile that made him want to puke. "Is everything fine, Draco?"
He swiftly covered the short distance between them and towered over her for intimidating effect. Ignoring the rule about Malfoys never using their hands for dirty work, he put his around her neck and squeezed a little. Not enough to make her lose her breath, but enough to make her see that he could easily kill her without feeling any remorse. Moving in so close that his lips almost brushed against her eyelashes, he whispered, "Do you think you can just come here and take advantage of the situation, huh? Do you think you can just walk right in and take over my job? This is my house, and this is my revenge. You're on my territory, bitch."
He thought he detected a fleeting glint of fear in her eyes. But then she smiled self-righteously. "You have changed, haven't you?" she stated. "The potion is working."
He partly let go of her. Contemplated her words. "You did this to me?" he asked.
"Yes, I brought you out in him," she confirmed.
He squeezed his hands tighter around her throat. "Then you're the person responsible for my confinement, as well," he breathed with growing fury. "You'll pay with your life, Cho. But not now. I want you to fear me first. I want you to get real scared. And then, when you least expect it, I'll take over this sorry piece of crap's body and kill you. That's a promise, and I never break my promises."
Now there was definitely fear in her eyes, and he thrived on it, loved it. Fear had always been his greatest turn-on.
An awful shriek stole his attention away from Cho, and he turned towards the windows to see what was going on. Outside, three Forgettes were holding a young boy between themselves, preparing to magically shackle him—or something worse. That boy …
SNAP.
"Joseph."
He let go of the weight he was holding and ran towards the back door in a blind panic. Throwing the door open, he yelled, "No! Let him go! Let him go! You're not to hurt him!"
But the creatures were not listening. Seeing no other alternative, he raised his wand and uttered the only spell he knew worked on the Forgettes. "Expecto Patronum!" His Patronus was not nearly as powerful as Harry's, but it harmed them enough to let go of the boy and flee the scene. Draco quickly knelt beside the injured lad on the ground. "Are you all right?" he asked.
Joseph coughed and got up. "Yeah, I'm okay. Now." He met Draco's eyes, and Draco instantly noticed that there was something significantly different about him. There was life in his eyes now, life and hope and warmth; emotions that had never been displayed by the boy before. He wondered what had changed Joseph so much. "You saved my life," the boy said gratefully.
Draco laughed nervously. "Nah, I just chased them Forgettes away from you, nothing big. They wouldn't've actually hurt you. They only take criminals, right?"
The boy's eyes became melancholy again. "But I've done things that you couldn't even imagine, Draco. She made me do things that the Forgettes would definitely see as crimes. And it doesn't matter to them that I didn't commit those crimes in this time—they can still smell the guilt in my soul. They would have ripped me apart, limb by limb, and discarded of my body in a dozen different places if you hadn't showed up. You saved my life. For that I am eternally grateful, and I will grant you one wish. Anything you'd like."
Draco blinked at him sheepishly. "Anything?"
"Yes, anything. I am a Time Manipulator—I can shape time however I want."
"A wish that has something to do with time, huh?" Draco stated. "So, can you give people back their time as well?"
"Oh, yeah, that's easy. Is there anyone in particular that you have in mind?"
"Forget it. He's been dead for many years, so you probably wouldn't—"
"Taking back someone's life is even easier than giving back their time," Joseph revealed. "I simply undo the moment of death and bring the person back to this time, fully alive and well."
"Really? Well, in that case … I would like you to bring back Blaise."
Joseph raised his eyebrows in astonishment. "Blaise? But he's … Oh, you mean Blaise Zabini?"
"Yeah, which Blaise did you think I meant? Are there any others?"
Instead of answering that, the boy said, "Well … sure. In my time, you wished to give Harry sufficient time to heal, but this is just as good, I guess. I could bring him back. But he was evil …"
"No, he wasn't evil, the circumstances made him evil, just like they made me evil. Until I met Harry, that is. If it hadn't been for his father he never would've turned into that vicious murderer … He was really sweet and considerate when he was little. And he was the best friend ever. So would you please bring that Blaise back? The person that he was supposed to be without the influence of the world he was brought up in? Can you be that specific?"
"Of course I can. Consider it done."
Draco watched as Joseph closed his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his face in a really strange fashion and then jumped backwards in shock as an eerie white-blue light emerged from the boy's hands. Before his amazed eyes, a shape began to appear, and at first it was just the contours of a person, but soon it evolved into a shadow that ultimately turned into a human being. It was as if Joseph was gradually colouring him in like a child would colour the pictures in a colouring book.
A minute later, Blaise Zabini was standing before him, looking exactly like he had done the last time Draco saw him—with the exception that he was not wearing his long black Death Eater cloak now, but a pair of worn jeans and a washed out T-shirt. He was barefoot and his hair was tousled. Draco remembered that this was what Blaise liked to look like in reality; he did not like all those expensive designer clothes that his father forced him to wear …
Did that mean that Joseph had successfully brought back the real Blaise and not the person he was once forced to become?
Blaise blinked at him. "Potter? Harry Potter? You were the one who brought me back?" he asked in bafflement.
Draco blinked sheepishly, too. Then he turned to Joseph. "Does he remember being dead? Does he know that he's been brought back from death?"
Joseph was actually smiling at him. "Yes, I allowed him to remember all of that because it made it easier for me to re-shape his good self," he told him. "As you can see, there is no Mark on his left arm. I took his dark past away. Maybe I should leave you now, you probably have a lot to talk about." He vanished.
Blaise looked after him. "Who was that?"
"That was my son, Joseph," Draco revealed. "He visits from the future sometimes … Apparently he's a Time Manipulator—whatever that is—and he granted me one wish as a reward for saving his life. You were my reward."
Blaise stared at him in disbelief. "I was your reward for saving that bloke's life? Why on Earth would you ask for me? I don't even know you, Potter."
It took Draco a few seconds to realise why his friend was so confused. "Oh, right! I'm not Harry. It's me—Draco. I know I look like Harry, but that's only because we've switched bodies. Not voluntarily, of course, Piper kind of had something to do with it … Anyway, glad to have you back!"
He hugged his best friend, who was still in shock. "Are you still seventeen?" he then asked.
"Yeah. How old are you now?"
"I'm turning twenty in December. It's October now."
"So it's been three years …"
"Yeah. Funny to think that we were born on the same day and yet you're three years younger than me."
"Yeah." Blaise studied him intently. "I take it that you're still with Potter, then."
Draco smiled. "Yeah, but there's a lot more to it … God, we have so much to catch up on! Let's go inside and have some tea and I'll tell you about everything that's happened."
They went into the parlour and closed the door behind them. Draco started when he noticed Cho standing beside the fireplace. "What are you doing here?" he asked with irritation.
She began to shudder and back away from him when he came closer. "No, don't … don't touch me," she begged. "Ge-get away from me!"
Draco blinked at her in bewilderment. "Why are you looking at me as if I'm some sort of monster?"
Blaise came up to them. "Is that Cho Chang? She a friend of yours now?"
Draco snorted. "I wish she would leave us alone, but she keeps showing up unannounced as if she was Harry's best friend or something … She's even worse at timing than Ron is."
"Weasley? He a friend of yours, then?"
"Yeah, Ron's all right. He's nailed a med student, the nicest bloke you could find in London."
"Ron's gay?!"
"Bi. But still, it's pretty darned amazing."
"You bet it is. Want me to help you make that tea?"
"Thanks, that'd be nice. Let me just get rid of this flea—"
He did not even get within three feet of Cho before she squealed like an animal and Disapparated. He did not understand why she had been so frightened and jittery, but he was glad she was gone.
With Harry in his mind, he served tea and biscuits to Blaise and told him about all the madness of Malfoy Manor.
Ron returned to Jonathan's London apartment at five that afternoon, totally beat. He just wanted to sit down on the couch, tilt his head back, and rest his poor muscles. He had been training hard with his Quidditch team all day—he was working hard to become a pro. Harry always talked about how much he would like to play professional Quidditch, but he never did anything to make that dream come true.
Ron did not get that bloke. Why did he have such a hard time committing to his dreams? He was always so busy with his family life … If he devoted even a fifth of that devotion to Quidditch, he would become one of the best Seekers in the world in no time.
Jonathan was sitting in front of the TV when he came into the living room, apparently watching some kind of sitcom. He was shuffling big handfuls of popcorn into his mouth. He looked up when he detected Ron in the doorway. "Oh, hi Ron!" he said, and went right back to watching his TV show.
Ron did not think he would ever understand the joy of television. What was the point of staring at a box for several hours a day? That time could be spent doing something important instead.
He slumped down next to Jonathan.
"Tough day?" Jonathan asked.
"Yeah, I had to dodge loads of Bludgers today …"
Jonathan stared at him. "Loads of what?"
"Bludgers. I forget that you've never seen a Quidditch game. Maybe I should take you to one. Would you like that?"
"Is that the game in which you fly around on your broomsticks and throw things at each other?" the other man asked with curiosity.
Ron laughed. "We don't throw things at each other! But, yeah, we do fly on our racing brooms."
"Oh, I'd love to see that! You play a game soon?"
"We have a match on Sunday morning at eleven, if you'd like to come."
"I'd love to! How long's a match?"
"That depends on how long it takes the Seekers to catch the Snitch. Might go on for months if we're unlucky." Ron sighed.
Jonathan blinked sheepishly at him. "I didn't understand a word of what you just said, but I guess it's all good. I'll come, but I can't stay longer than till Monday morning, I have class that afternoon."
They laughed.
Then Jonathan got a mischievous look on his face. Smiling deviously, he said, "Want me to ease that tension for you?"
Ron frowned at him. "How are you going to—" He fell silent when Jonathan unzipped him and bent down into his lap. Oh, so that was what everybody meant when they referred to 'easing the tension?' Just the thought of Jonathan touching him and possibly even blowing him made him hard, and his entire body flushed with desire.
He gasped in anticipation when the other man revealed his erection and took it in his mouth. Jonathan worked his lips and his tongue over Ron's skin like a pro, and the redhead experienced an instant physical response. It was really taking the tension out of his body, just like Jonathan had said it would, and he instinctively put his crotch up. Breathing fast, clasping the couch fabric tight in his hands, he expelled a "God, Jonathan!"
As if that had been an encouragement, Jonathan worked him faster and elicited several guttural squeals from Ron. The pleasure that filled him and surged through his nervous system was so strong, so pure that he wanted to flee from it—it was too much to bear! It was not just his physical pleasure; it was his emotional pleasure, as well. How the Hell could Jonathan make him feel so bloody much?! He still could not believe that he was actually into blokes, but for every day that passed, he liked Jonathan a little more, and right now he was starting to think that he might actually …
He came with a shriek and slumped back on the couch, panting and with a light film of sweat on his forehead. "Wow," he said with emphasis, "I've never been relieved of stress that quickly and efficiently before!"
Jonathan looked up at him and smiled teasingly. "Maybe we should make it a habit, then."
Ron pulled him up and embraced him. Just needed to hold him for a bit. "Yes, please let's make that a habit?"
Jonathan laughed. "You don't have to ask! Didn't we have this conversation four days ago before we went to Harry's?"
Ron blushed. "Yeah, we did …"
"And didn't we agree that we're now officially a couple?"
"Yeah, we did …"
Jonathan pulled him closer. "Well, there you have it. We've officially been a couple for four days—ninety-seven hours and counting. That means you don't have to ask me for sex, Ron. Just poke me in the side and give me a cute look and I'll jump right in. If I'm sleeping—Hell, wake me up! 'Cos I'd love it if you were so hot for me you just have to have me at three in the morning! You don't need to ask me about anything, and that goes for the food in the kitchen as well. Eat as much as you want, just as long as you leave some for me 'cos I don't like to be hungry."
Ron laughed embarrassedly.
"Eh, you see what I mean. All my stuff is your stuff, and all that crap. Clichés, definitely, but they sure work for me."
Ron closed his eyes and just let himself be swept away by his emotions. He really liked the way Jonathan could always make him feel comfortable. Jonathan was so easy-going, so compassionate … and he had a lovely sense of humour. Snuggling up closer to his boyfriend—his boyfriend!—Ron felt happier than he had ever felt in his entire life.
And he might actually love him.