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Summary: Two years after the final battle Harry Potter has endured devastating losses including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with a plan go back to before the curse began and try again. A second chance at love, at happiness...

Disclaimer: I own nothing, never will. I am just a poor girl who uses her free time to daydream over two beautiful boys falling in love and going crazy. Draco and Harry are both both, le gasp! So if H/D isn't your thing, close your eyes, cover your ears, and hum Mary Had A Little Lamb while desperately back clicking away from my story and it unsightly plot.

A SECOND CHANCE AT HAPPINESS

By Roozette

Deny. Deny. Deny.

As he took in the flushed teary eyed girl in front of him, Harry Potter absently repeated the one word to himself over and over. After all, he had won the war. He had defeated Voldemort. He had provided hope to the masses; comfort to those left behind, and was the bloody Savior for God's sake. Didn't he deserve a break?

Deny. Deny. Deny.

In the two years since the final battle at Hogwarts, Harry had struggled and fought against crushing obstacles. Andromeda Tonks, mad with grief over the loss of her daughter Nymphadora, had refused to let Harry or anyone from the Order near her grandson Teddy. No one aside from Hermione and Ron knew Remus wanted Harry as Teddy's godfather, and most, in fact, believed the innocent baby was better off away from the influence of three battle scarred teenagers.

George Weasley could not escape the loss of his twin. Perhaps no one will ever understand the unique bond twins share. One month to the day after the final battle, George quietly apparrated to the Weasley cemetery plot, lay atop his brother's grave, and killed himself. Of course, no one blamed Harry. To his face. All the same, the welcoming warmth was notably absent from Molly's hugs, none from the Weasley clan would meet Harry's eye, and Ron began mumbling half hearted excuses to stay away. Hermione did what she could. She split her time between the burrow and Grimmauld Place without complaint. She never said a word as she practiced her cooking and forced Harry to eat. Never said a word while slipping into his room at night, to smooth his hair and hold him, as he sobbed out his grief and confusion. Never said a word as Draco Malfoy sauntered into the kitchen one night, looking defiant yet nervous and oddly vulnerable as he sat down to dinner. Never said a word as the weeks passed and Draco made no move to leave. Oh God, Draco…

Deny. Deny. Deny.

He never knew what Hermione had said to Draco to get him to come to dinner that night. All he knew was he owed his best friend for his life, such as it was. Narcissa Malfoy had learned from Draco that Harry was living alone, and whisked Harry off to Malfoy Manor before Harry quite realized what was happening. Like Hermione, Narcissa never said a word over the burgeoning relationship between Harry and her son – simply kissed his cheek and welcomed him to her family. She sheltered him from the never ending publicity, encouraged Harry to remember his dreams, reunited the Golden Trio with her grace and dignity, and, ultimately, shared his sorrow and gave him a reason to live once Draco was gone.

As powerhungry as Voldemort had been, it should not have come as a surprise that he would consider it the ultimate gift to his faithful Death Eaters to allow them to die should he be overturned. After all, his loyal Death Eaters surely would never be content in a world intermixed with Muggles and Blood Traitors. In fact, it was only after the Inner Circle began falling when the world learned that shortly after Dumbledore's death Voldemort had "blessed" his marking in such a way. Now they were gone, and Harry wanted to die too. But he couldn't. He needed to take care of Narcissa. And now Hermione. Oh God, Ron…

Deny. Deny. Deny.

Harry gazed blankly at Hermione's oddly composed face, watching in fascination as her tears slid in one graceful arc after another over her pale cheeks to drip off her chin. One by one. Drip – drip – drip. Just as no one knew about the Death Eaters, no one thought to question why – nearly five years ago – there had been brains in the Department of Mystery. Dark secrets hoping to be discovered… until one foolish boy followed his best friend on an impulsive rescue mission, and had thoughts so dark they burned carve scars into his flesh. Madame Pomphrey had cleaned the wounds, but some scars never fade. And Harry knew all about cursed scars.

Even dead, Voldemort continued to manipulate his life.

"Harry? Honey, are you listening to me?"

At the strained question Harry snapped out of his bleak reverie and focused on the face of his closest friend. Even pale and ravaged by grief, Hermione Granger-Weasley radiated intelligence and security. She was also, he noted, looking at him as if he held the answer to the most important question in the world. "Sorry Hermione, I kinda drifted there for a minute," he smiled apologetically.

"That's ok, Harry," the witch replied carefully, "just please pay attention. " Fixing him with a penetrating stare, Hermione leaned forward and grasped Harry's hands tightly in her own. "We have to fix this Harry. We're the only one's who can. I have researched until I can't see straight, and I think I know how to change it all. Of course, we would be breaking all kinds of laws and could very well find ourselves in Azkaban if we don't succeed," here she broke off to frown at the wall briefly. "And, of course, that could mean you don't defeat… Well, it will be worth it. Yes," she rubbed his hand briskly, "the potential good far outweighs any lingering doubts."

The whole time she had been talking, Hermione had been using the same tone of voice she used back when they were students at Hogwarts and she explained assignments that made perfect sense to her and her alone. In fact, it was due to this patiently exasperated tone that Harry simply nodded stupidly at her for a few minutes before realizing she had neither completed an entire sentence, nor made one bit of sense. He had just opened his mouth to question her, when a calm and cultured tone drifted over from his left.

"You're going back, aren't you?"

Starting slightly, Harry and Hermione whirled to see Narcissa standing in the doorway, an elf pushing a tea trolley slightly behind her. Harry frowned, equally puzzled by Narcissa's question as Hermione's rant, when he noticed Hermione gazing at Narcissa as though she were the most brilliant woman she had ever seen, and nodding enthusiastically.

"Err…" Harry momentarily regretted his confused offering when both women's attention sharply returned to him. "It's just… sorry, but… err… what?"

Sharing a look of perfect understanding with Hermione, Narcissa swept into the room as thought nothing were amiss and directed the house elf in setting up their afternoon tea before dismissing him with a wave of her hand. Sipping her tea, Narcissa gazed at him a moment before quietly stating, "Harry, you are the most powerful wizard around. If anybody had the ability to manipulate time, and return to their past in order to right a grievous wrong, I believe it is you."

Harry looked at her in shock, blushing slightly from such a strong compliment from the woman he considered his mother. His thoughts were swirling madly in his head. Surely she was not implying what he thought she was? Surely not. Directing his gaze to Hermione, he met her look unflinchingly and muttered the spell before he quite realized what he was doing. Instantly his mind was flooded with images – Hermione weeping in St. Mungo's while an ashen faced Ron gripped her hand like a lifeline, pouring over books, writing and rewriting ancient runes and arithmetic equations, Harry's face as he gazed at Draco's tombstone, more books, runes dancing and whirling – and It clicked. Harry looked at Hermione as if he had never seen her before, not even aware of the sharp look Narcissa was sending him. "You want me to go back in time and stop Voldemort from placing that curse on his Death Eaters."

Surely that wasn't his voice – so cold, so strained, so oddly detached from himself. Hermione flinched slightly even as she squared her shoulders and opened her mouth, only to abruptly shut it as Harry waved his hand in an absent gesture of silence. Go back in time. He could save Draco, Ron, maybe even Fred and Lupin. Harry's head felt heavy; almost absently he raised his right hand to rub his scar. "You said wizards can't play with time. Third year. You told me if wizards saw their counterparts they might even try to kill themselves. How…"

"Harry," Hermione began carefully, "This wouldn't be a simple spell. Not only would we be sent back to shortly before Dumbledore was…" she trailed off briefly before squaring her shoulders resolutely. "We would merge into our bodies and stay there." Harry's head snapped up at this and Hermione continued in a breathless rush. "Whenever time we chose. We would keep our memories and improved abilities from this time, but would have to continue life on from that point. We would have to attend school and…"

"… and I would still have to battle Voldemort." Harry interrupted dully. Half afraid of his reaction, Hermione nodded slowly.

He remembered the fear, the pain, and the sense of isolation and of slowly losing his mind. Could he survive that a second time? Harry became aware of a burning sensation on his face, and turned his head to meet the pale face of Narcissa. For a moment, he simply gazed at her. He noticed the frail body, nearly gaunt from battling the grief of losing both her husband and only son, the beautiful and proud face prematurely wrinkled, the eyes, so like Draco's… eyes that had been dull but were now burning with an almost desperate plea for hope.

And Harry knew he would do it. He would find a way to survive it. Because as much as he could not fanthom a future without Draco and his family, he knew he would never be able to live with himself if he was the one to destroy the light in both Narcissa and Hermione's eyes. Standing up, he paced to the window and stared at the garden, frozen in the last frost of winter. Already he could see leaves and buds peeking out, fragile and timid as they rose toward the overcast sky in a bid for warmth. He wondered if Sirius had ever done that. Ever stood outside in the early morning, face tipped up to the sun after having spent so long trapped in the dark. Oh God, Sirius… how he needed…

And with a jolt he knew what he had to do. Turning, he faced the two witches gazing at him anxiously. "If I do this," he started heavily, noticing the tears welling up in Hermione's eyes as she recognized his sentence for the acceptance she prayed for, "We need to go back for Sirius, too."

For a moment there was absolute silence. Then, with a soft clicking noise, Narcissa placed her saucer on the coffee table and smoothed imaginary wrinkled out of her dress. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "had Dolores Umbridge not been placed at Hogwarts, who knows how much quicker you would have succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord." She smiled as Harry and Hermione looked first at each other, then at her. "My dears," she continued, eyes sparkling as the plan whirled through her head, "I think you should go back and have her removed from the equation all together."

Harry snorted angrily, beginning to pace almost absently. "Fat chance there… you remember how stupid Fudge was. Denying Voldemort's return! Saying Dumbledore and I were crazy, attention seeking prats. She made my life Hell! Why don't I just go back to fourth year and stop Voldemort from returning all together." The moment the words left his mouth Harry felt emotions erupt violently inside of him, swirling chaotically as the ramifications of what he had just said slammed into him. He could prevent Voldemort rising again, he could save Cedric…

"No!" Hermione looked at him almost desperately. "Harry, please! I know what you're thinking, but Voldemort needs to come back to a body!" Noticing the way Harry's eyes stormed over with anger, Hermione quickly rose and walked over to stand in front of him. "Harry please," she whispered in a voice hoarse with unshed tears, "you needed to experience that situation. That's where you learned about the horcruxes, that's when you learned how strong you truly were, and that's where Voldemort learned to first fear you." Harry looked away and scowled out the window. "Harry… we can go back to the summer before fifth year, you can prevent Nagini attacking Arthur, you can prevent Sirius…" she hesitated, "you can prevent Sirius," she repeated firmly. "We'll find a way to get rid of Umbridge."

"How," Harry asked bitterly, glaring at the garden.

"You will have me appointed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor."

Harry and Hermione turned around to gape at Narcissa in unison. She met their gaze unflinchingly, and, if anything, raised her chin even higher. "Think about it," she stated calmly, "who better than the wife of a suspected Death Eater to be in a position of authority around impressionable children." She met their eyes as they processed that statement. "You must simply find a way to contact me and make me understand your plight, and then you will have assistance both inside and outside Hogwarts in finding a way to destroy him."

Hermione gripped Harry's arm in excitement, as the pieces fell into place for her. No Umbridge… they would be able to learn useful spells, Hell, Harry could turn class into an extended DA meeting with Narcissa's help. They could look for Horcruxes on weekends – they already knew where they were! Voldemort would think he was infiltrating Hogwarts, and at the same time they could prevent needless deaths. Harry and Hermione gazed at each other as the plan suddenly became materialistic and real to them. They could defeat Voldemort before they graduated. Their lives would be substantially different.

Harry wanted to protest and scream at the unfairness of the request, but he couldn't. Even as he stared back at Hermione, his vision was blurred by images of the twins playing Quidditch and laughing like loons, flying through a star studded sky with Hermione and Sirius, Ron – risking everything – to help in a fruitless quest. He could see Draco smiling at him, Moony hugging him after teaching him to repel Dementors, Tonks hopefully flicking her wand at a twitching sock in his bedroom at the Dursley's, Colin Creevey grinning at him behind the lens of the camera. Draco is kissing him, Hedwig nipping his ear affectionately, Dobby fighting with Kreacher over who was more of a help to Harry, Moody sitting at the kitchen table while his magical eye spun wildly in a glass of water, Snape inadvertently teaching Harry Expelliarmous.

Could he do this? Could he save them all? Would he be able to hug Snape and thank him for everything he risked to keep him safe? Hug Sirius and Moony, savoring the last link to his parents? Prevent Dumbledore from putting on that cursed ring and exposing himself to death? Harry wasn't aware he was crying, until he felt Narcissa and Hermione enfold him in their arms. They stood there, quiet, reflective, for a long time. Finally, Harry raised his head.

"I want to try."

He released a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. Hermione shrieked and gripped him tighter, while Narcissa allowed the first tear to slide down her face. Suddenly they were laughing together – a wild, carefree laugh that hadn't been heard in a long time.

Briskly Narcissa stepped back and wiped her face. "Well, then, let's get to work."

It was another two weeks before they were ready to execute the plan. Narcissa made the potion, Hermione tweaked the spell, and Harry developed a way to transport certain items with them. He didn't need to worry about his cloak or map – he had them with his fourteen year old self – but he would need unregistered wands since he couldn't take Draco's or Ron's… they would have them and Hermione wasn't sure if they would vanish or not work when their owner's had the same item. Narcissa had written herself a letter and sealed it with a package, instructing Harry to deliver it to her past self to ensure aid. They had also brainstormed various magical connections to form – alliances, possibly, with elves and goblins and veela, to make their task easier. They were going to hit the ground running when they got there, and uses the entire summer to their advantage.

Now Harry and Hermione were sitting in front of each other while Narcissa stood over them magically linking their wrist together.

"From here to there

Where once went too wrong

Let these two bear

So selfless and strong"

Narcissa waved her wand and ancient runes swirled out to spin gently around the two friends.

”Not to switch

But to replace

I cast this wizard and witch

To relieve the wizarding race”

In unison Harry and Hermione raised their unclasped hands and drank the vial of potion. Harry shuddered as he felt a jolt spread through his system. He dimly noted that if this didn't work he wouldn't need to worry about Azkaban, as he was fairly certain he had just poisoned himself. As if in defiance to this thought, a strong burst of wind whispered out around the two. Harry raised his eyes and met the burning gaze of Hermione, smiling over the thought that at least he would die with his last and greatest friend.

"Hermione," he whispered frantically, suddenly gripped with an urgent need to know, "what did you say to Draco to get him to come to dinner?"

Hermione gazed blankly at him for a moment before bursting into a brilliant smile. " He told me he had been in love with you since he watched you battling a dragon. I simply told him you loved him too."

Harry desperately wanted to reply, to question her certainty over a fact he hadn't even really been aware of, but the wind was now roaring around the two of them. He distantly made out the sound of Narcissa screaming something when his heart simply burst out of his chest. He was sure he yelled, he could hear Hermione sobbing, when a vibrant purple light seemed to explode in the circle between them. 'Pretty,' he thought vaguely, before everything went black.

Harry released his breath in a gasping rush

Harry released his breath in a gasping rush. His head was spinning and aching at a dizzying rate – his brain felt like it was swelling and preparing to bleed out his eyes. He slammed his eyelids shut just in case. Slowly, his heart calmed down enough that he was able to grasp his surroundings. Was he lying on cement? No, no, he could feel a rough scratching against his back. Carpet, perhaps? Cautiously opening his eyes, he caught a blurry image of walls and cluttering shapes. What the…? He dimly noted the outline of a body standing in an archway – was that a door? – and a muffled shrieking noise, before the blackness overtook him again.

He became aware of his body before he allowed his eyes to open. There was softness underneath him, somehow familiar and unpleasant at the same time. Someone was sitting nearby and gently brushing something damp and cool against his forehead. Ah yes, he'd felt his head connect sharply with something. That explained the headache. Sighing, Harry turned into the touch. It hadn't worked then. Fully expecting to see Narcissa sitting vigil by his bedside, Harry reluctantly opened his eyes and then sat up with a shriek when the figure came into sharper focus.

"Aunt Petunia?"

Ah shit, he'd somehow managed to block the fact that going back to his fourteen year old self meant spending quality bonding time with his relatives. Oddly enough, Petunia Dursley was sitting on his bed. Having never known her to once willingly enter his room while he was home, Harry gaped at her for a few minutes before he realized her eyes were suspiciously red and she was trembling slightly. "You…" she started weakly, before sagging slightly and staring down at the cloth now clenched into her fists. "You were going into your bedroom and started," she shuddered, "you started screaming. Then you fell over and… and…" Glancing at the window as though afraid the neighbors would see her sitting with her disturbed nephew, Petunia sighed. "You've been unconscious for nearly two hours. I didn't know if I should call someone, so I just," she gestured vaguely at the bed before once again going silent.

For the first time, Harry became aware of a thickness on his head. Raising his hand to his head, Harry felt a bandage placed tightly over his left temple. Glancing around, he noted the trail of blood on the floor and bed. Had Petunia dragged him into bed? Was she sitting near him to make sure he woke up? Opening his mouth, Harry shut it just as quickly. He'd never been… err… close… with his family, and hadn't, in fact, seen them more than twice in the two years since the war ended. "Oh," he responded lamely.

Nodding once, Petunia swiftly rose from the bed and marched to the doorway. Hesitantly, she glanced over her shoulder and met his eyes briefly before turning away again. "I'll bring you some soup." The door closed quietly behind her. Harry turned to blink stupidly at the door for a few minutes before cautiously rising to gather clean clothes for a shower. He'd been fourteen - well, consciously - for only a few minutes, and life was already crazy again.

Refreshed, Harry crawled under the bed and reached into his secret space under the floorboards. Please have worked, please have worked… Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the precious bundle sitting amongst his most treasured possessions. Returning to his bed, Harry dumped out Hermione's magical purse – the one that had literally saved their life while searching for Horcruxes. He rummaged around until he found Narcissa's package and Hermione's new wand. Jotting off a swift note to Hermione, he called Hedwig over to him. After absently petting her for a few minutes, remembering with happiness the softness of her feathers and the immeasurable comfort she provided him, he softly whispered, "I have really missed you girl. I haven't seen you in years, or, well, a few minutes to you, but not a day went by that I didn't think of you. You have always been my first and finest friend." Hedwig hooted softly and nibbled at his fingers in reply. Grinning, he continued, "First, Hedwig, can you take this to Hermione? Don't stay too long, it's really important that this other letter gets to Narcissa as fast as possible. Narcissa Malfoy. Only…" he hesitated as memories of Lucius Malfoy before the end of the war flooded his brain, "only make sure she's alone, ok? Stay away if anyone is near her. Please?" Cuffing his head affably in agreement, Hedwig soared out the window.

Harry let a tear fall as he wondered if he had just been robbed of saying goodbye forever to Hedwig for a second time, before squaring his shoulders. There was a brilliant light shining in his eyes as he focused on the purse yet again, and pulled out his To Do List.

"But darling you're still dreadfully pale, are you sure you can't postpone leaving until tomorrow?"

As much as she loved her parents, Hermione Granger had to clamp down on her lip hard to suppress a scream as the questioned was asked for the hundredth time in the last hour. True, to them, she had suddenly gasped and arched her back – nearly falling off her chair at the dinner table – but she had recovered fairly quickly. After escaping to her room (dear God had she really loved this color of green?) and composing herself, she noticed from the neatly crossed off days on her desk calendar that Tonks would be by today to take her to Order headquarters for the rest of the summer. She had to go, no matter how weak and flushed she still felt. She needed to see Ron and the others. Needed to hold them and reassure herself that she wasn't slowly going crazy and this really was a viable plan. She desperately wanted to hear from Harry, but the jerk not only had her wand but was the one of them who actually owned an owl. How dare he be more prepared than her?

"Mom, I am fine. I promise. Maybe my body was telling me I am going to start my period out of cycle or go through premature menopause or something." Ignoring her father's blush and her mom's frown of disapproval, Hermione continued on in the same rational tone of voice, "I need to be there. Several professors are extending this unique studying opportunity for preparing for secondary education. It's the same equivalent as… as…" gesturing widely as she racked her aching head for a quick excuse "free university courses!" Hermione allowed herself a moment of triumph as her parents relaxed and nodded their heads. She may have been only fourteen again for only a short while, but no way was she stupid enough to tell her parents she was being sent to security in order to hide from an evil dictator out for the blood of her best friend.

Really, how could she be expected to lie convincingly when Harry still hadn't contacted her? He had to have arrived at the same time as her, right? Although what if he hadn't? What if he was lying in some parallel universe, or was transported to the Americas. People would take one look at Harry and think he was some obsessed Sci-Fi Fantasy fan and have him committed. Oh no, she had just condemned the Savior of the World to a fate worth than death. Just as she was convincing herself to march to the nearest forest and physically wrestle an owl down to do her bidding, Hedwig soared through her bedroom window. Beaming, Hermione gave the beautiful owl a quick cuddle before accepting her unregistered wand and the note.

Right then. Stage one complete. All she had to do was get to headquarters and wait for Harry to tell her Narcissa had agreed to turn her back on her husband's idea of paradise. No problem.

Further away, Narcissa Malfoy sat in her private rooms gazing out the window. Simply from looking at her calm face and proper posture, one would never know the bleakness of her thoughts. She hated Malfoy Manor. She hated living in fear, being shunned from people whose respect she desperately craved, and watching her husband slip further and further away from her. Now that He was back, Narcissa knew her life would only continue to decline, until finally she withered away to nothing. It would only be a matter of time before her darling Draco was sucked into the madness surrounding his father, and then she really would have nothing left.

Narcissa refocused her eyes, and was slightly startled to see warm hazel eyes staring back at her. The owl was beautiful – snowy white, with an intelligent air about her. She was well loved and nurtured. Pausing only briefly, Narcissa opened the window and allowed the bird to enter. They regarded each other silently, before the owl solemnly offered the package secured to her leg. Equally somber, Narcissa accepted. The owl hooted gently to her, almost kindly, before flying off. Now that was weird. Only half nervous, Narcissa opened the package. What the… is that HER handwriting?

Narcissa,

My, how dreadfully awkward it is addressing a letter to oneself. Normally, I would not dare, but I remember the coldness of that summer. So I take the chance. In the box you will discover my most precious memories of the last four years. I ask only that you – well, I – view them and then seek out Harry Potter before making a decision one way or the other. There is a lot to fear, and a lot to be fearful for right now. Please know, at this time Harry and his little friends Hermione and Ron are the only ones capable of ensuring current and future happiness.

Please, view the memories. View them alone; view them more than once, whatever you please. Then seek out Harry, If you apparrate to the address written on the bottom of this form, you will arrive on the sidewalk in front of his relatives home. Ghastly people. He will come out to meet you, as his wards surrounding him prevent non-approved magical essence from entering his home, and then portkey you both to a secure location to talk. If I remember correctly, he is rather underfed, so perhaps a meal would go far to relieve tension on both sides.

Please trust.

NM

Narcissa gazed at the letter, swiftly rereading it, before cautiously picking up the box. The vial was warm in her hands and pulsing with an almost ethereal glow – as though revealing secrets not yet cemented in time. The memories flowed smoothly into the pensieve, and sparkled once before calming. Yes, these were definitely her memories. No spell – light or dark – can alter the magical signature of a witch or her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she plunged her head and fell down into a cool rush of feeling.

Half an hour later she rose with a gasp, clutching her hand to her shattered heart. Hardly bothering to instruct an elf to inform her family she was leaving the Manor for awhile and to clean up her supplies, Narcissa donned a heavy cloak and apparrated away.

Harry stared out the front window, willing Narcissa to appear. Hedwig had returned hours ago, Hermione had penned she was now safely ensconced with her "classmates," and Harry was rapidly falling apart. So much relied on Narcissa. Unwilling to journey with them – citing no mother was strong enough to sanely view her own child after remembering death - it was crucial that whatever Narcissa sent her past self be strong enough motivation to get her to Harry… well, without bringing along Death Eaters, anyway. She had to accept the job at school. Had to. This, after all, was the summer of the prophecy. Dumbledore would not be looking or speaking to him, Snape with his damn Occlumency lessons… he needed to have an adult at Hogwarts willing to break the rules enough for side-along apparition without asking too many questions. Needed to keep Umbridge, the miserable toad, and her ministry-approved hypocrisy, as far away from Hogwarts as possible – though he would miss the memory of her and the centaurs. Needed the mother of the one he so desperately loved to approve and offer reassurance.

"Boy! What are you doing in front of the window? Get away! Get away before any of the neighbors see. Your lot is not welcome here!"

Ignoring the taunts, Harry turned to face his Uncle Vernon with a coolly amused smile. Somehow, knowing the man would be riddled with ulcers in the future took a lot of resentment away from Harry. "I will be going out shortly." He replied instead. "Should any of," he smirked, "my lot come looking for me. Tell them you don't know where I am going, who I will be with, or when I will come back." Reading his Uncle's brightening expression correctly; Harry snorted and said, "Sorry, I will be coming back."

Ignoring the spluttering behind him, Harry turned back to the window. And then there she was. Looking cool and untouchable in the sunshine, staring at the house with an unreadable expression, Narcissa Malfoy stood on the sidewalk with her nose in the air; waiting. "See ya," Harry mumbled hastily before dashing out the door.

Harry kept his right hand in his pocket as he forced himself to walk towards her slowly. After all, watching the Boy Who Lived dash towards the wife of a Death Eater, especially after the events of last term, would never do. They gazed at one another silently, sizing the other up. Harry waited, ignoring the sweat sliding down the back of his neck: it was crucial she reach out to him first. Finally, Narcissa extended a hand towards him. "Mr. Potter," she formally greeted.

Harry simply grinned. "Brace yourself," he answered cheekily, before pressing the button to activate the portkey. Even as he felt the tell tale lurch underneath his belly button, Harry glanced over Narcissa's shoulder into the terrified face of Remus Lupin. Oh shit, he thought, for the second time that day, I forgot I was being followed.

To Narcissa's utter confusion, and Harry secret relief, they arrived in a dizzying rush in a rarely used portion of Malfoy Manor. Collecting herself admirably, Narcissa calmly called for a house elf to bring tea. After setting up the necessary refreshments, Narcissa gazed at Harry in such a refreshingly familiar way that Harry simply had to grin at her. "Mr. Potter…" she began.

"Harry," he interrupted quickly. "Please? You always call me Harry."

Her gaze softened slightly. "Harry, then," she conceded with a nod. "Are you aware of precisely what was sent to me today?"

"Err…" he began, typically articulate after being thrown off guard. "Well, I had Hedwig, my owl, deliver a package… but you asked me not to open it. Err… that is, you, your future self, umm.. , well, you asked me to simply make sure you got it and then ask you for help," he finished, desperately embarrassed and flustered,

Narcissa looked at Harry in amusement. "I suggest, Harry, that you start at the beginning and tell me everything."

So he did. He told her about ending the war, the way she had saved him and he in turn led her to Draco, falling for Draco, the curse, their mutual devastation, loving her like a mother. He told her of Hermione's agonizing plea, the plan, the ritual, their need for her to work at Hogwarts. Everything. And in the end, he had a sore throat and Narcissa looked faintly bewildered.

"Right," she stated, placing her tea cup down with a snap, "you will stay the night." Harry shot her a rather panicked look at that – he was NOT safe around Lucius yet, especially so soon after fleeing him in the graveyard. "My husband, regrettably, is away at the moment," Narcissa smirked at him, "he will not be joining us. Wait here, I will instruct a house elf to prepare you a room." Knowing full well Narcissa could easily order an elf from where she sat, but recognizing her need to get away and process everything she had learned, Harry simply nodded.

Lost in contemplation, he had no idea how long he sat there when a sudden noise in the doorway alerted him to the presence of another. Looking up, Harry stared into the gob-smacked face of Draco Malfoy.

"POTTER," he yelled incredulously.

Harry barely heard. All he could see was Draco's face. Without really being aware of it, Harry dropped his tea cup and walked towards the blond. Draco looked suddenly apprehensive, and flicked his eyes to Harry's hand, searching for a wand. His eyes widened further as Harry walked straight to him, yanked Draco against him, and kissed him.

Hot pleasure flooded through Harry at the contact, even as Draco squeaked and jerked in surprise against him. Ignoring Draco's murmur, Harry slid his tongue across the seam of Draco's mouth, taking advantage of Draco's sharp gasp to plunder his mouth. Somewhere along the way Harry had backed Draco up against the wall, and even as one of Draco's hands gripped desperately in his hair, his other slid around Harry's back. Neither boy acknowledged this. Draco, in part, because he was certain this was a dream and he would wake up momentarily; cold and alone. Harry, because he was too busy absorbing the rush of feeling flooding through his body. This was his Draco. His happiness. His love. Tasting so familiar, yet so different, all at once. Harry could have happily stayed here forever, swallowing Draco's moans, feeling the silky texture of his hair, pressing so close to Draco they were almost fused together.

"Well, Draco. Obviously you have been introduced to our guest. Harry, dear, kindly do remove your hand from under my son's shirt. This is a home, not a brothel."

For the first time in several years, were someone to ask Harry his opinion of Narcissa Malfoy, the end result would be less than flattering.

The moment Draco heard his mother's voice; he went completely stiff in Harry's arms. Apparently, that was all that was needed for Draco to realize this encounter was not, in fact, a dream. Harry, on the other hand, was used to a Narcissa who smiled indulgently at her son with Harry; who had, on one memorable occasion, seen quite a bit more of both of them than propriety allowed. Sighing, Harry looked at Draco… and immediately wished he hadn't as the sight of his flushed face and swollen mouth was more than enough incentive for Harry to tune Narcissa right back out and drag Draco away. He did, after all, know where Draco's bedroom was. However, the slight interruption was enough to remind him that a fifteen year old Draco Malfoy was slightly different than an eighteen or nineteen year old Draco Malfoy. This Draco was not comfortable displaying affection to Harry.

He sighed again.

"Potter…" Draco began in a warning growl, pressing his no longer roving hands firmly again...