"I know what that is," said Draco miserably. His heart sank to his feet. Was there no end to the damage the Malfoys inflicted? Even long after his father was dead? "I'd forgotten all about it. My father made it. I was supposed to bring it to Hogwarts in my fifth year and get Harry to touch it or maybe Dumbledore. But I never brought it. Forgot. It must have been confiscated a long time ago by the Ministry."

Everyone stood around the box and peered at the innocuous little snow globe with the miniature of Malfoy Manor snuggled in its magical snow.

"Do you know the charms that made it?" asked Arthur softly.

Draco shook his head. "No. Only my father knew how to make it. And he's…"

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. Little comfort, that. He couldn't help but feel that this was his fault, that he'd hurt Harry.

"Well," said Harry, breaking the chilled silence. "At least we now know what it was."

"Don't you see, Harry!" Draco lashed out. "It still doesn't do you a damn bit of good! I've cursed you! My whole bloody family has cursed you! I…I-" His throat constricted. Eyes burning, he spun away and sprinted full tilt toward the door. He passed through the archway and kept running. He didn't know where he was going but he knew he had to get away from Harry. How could he forgive himself this time? Of all the things he'd done to Harry, all the plots, this one was the worst, because this one had actually worked!

But why now? It was as if his father cursed them from the grave. His father- Wait. His father! He wiped his eyes. Maybe there was a tiny bit of hope! If he could get his father's help- He spun and ran back up to the Defense classroom, taking the stairs two at a time. Funny that he never felt winded.

When he reached the room everyone was still there. He braced himself in the archway and leaned in. "Malfoy Manor," he said. They all looked up. "I can ask my father!"

"But Draco," said Hermione. "He's dead. And you and Harry sent his ghost on."

"The painting! There's a painting of my father! He'll know! I've got to go!"

"I'll go with you," said Harry.

"Me, too," said Hermione.

"Me, too," said Ron.

"No, Ron," said Hermione. "You stay here. You've got a Defense class coming up in twenty minutes. It isn't fair to the students if we cancel too many classes."

"To hell with the classes!" he said.

"Hermione's right," said Mr. Weasley. "I'll take Draco's Potions classes. It's the least I can do."

"Bloody hell, Dad!"

"Now Ronald, we can best help by staying out of the way. I'm sure Draco knows what's best. Harry is his…his husband, after all."

Draco froze. He'd never heard Arthur Weasley speak so candidly. He looked at all their somber faces and nodded. "Thanks, Arthur," he said and took his hand.

Mr. Weasley shook it gravely. "Hurry, now. You know that the longer he is under this curse the harder it will be to reverse it."

"Yes, yes, I know." Draco reached into the box and grabbed the snow globe and everyone yelled at him at once. He glared at them as if they were insane. "I'm immuned, you idiots. How do you suppose I was to smuggle it into Hogwarts? By levitation?"

Harry shuffled closer and peered at it. "So that's the bugger? Doesn't look harmful."

"That's the point." He raised it up and studied the miniature of the house. Lights were on inside the windows and the magical snow continued to fall much like it did in the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling.

"A brilliant piece of magic," said Hermione appreciatively.

Ron looked at her askance. "How can you say that? It's a piece of pure evil from pure evil himself."

Hermione nudged Ron's side with her elbow and jerked her head toward Draco.

"It's all right, Hermione," said Draco. "I happen to agree with Ron in this instance. Except that at the time I was all for it, too. Pure evil and son."

"Sorry, Draco mate," said Ron, a little contritely. "Old feelings die hard."

"I know. Shall we go? We'll Apparate."

"But you can't Apparate while on Hogwart's grounds," said Hermione. "If you've ever read Hogwarts: A History-"

"Hermione," said Draco taking her arm and slipping his other hand around Harry's arm, "Haven't you been paying attention? We're making new Hogwarts history." And with that, he Apparated with both of them with a loud crack and landed a little shakily on the gravel drive to Malfoy Manor.

"Oh my God!" gasped Hermione. "That's such…unbelievable power!" She stared at Draco with awe.

He shrugged it off. "Harry's power, really. He could do it before we were joined."

Harry looked from one to the other. "Is…is this unusual? This disappearing and appearing?"

"Apparating and Disapparating," said Draco as if he were instructing in class. "You'll get the hang of it again. Trust me."

"I have so far," he said quietly.

Draco turned to Harry and found a reassuring smile there. And as if that weren't enough, Harry leaned over and kissed him. He looked at Harry surprised.

"You looked a little like you could use one," he said in explanation. "You know I don't blame you for this, right? How could I? You didn't know."

"I could have remembered-"

"You mean out of all the things that could have happened to me? Don't be an arse."

He gestured for Draco to lead the way and after a moment of hesitation, Draco plodded ahead.

They followed the gravel drive, so familiar. Had it been only two weeks ago that they left Malfoy Manor, finishing out their unusual honeymoon on his ancestral estates? And now they were here again only with Hermione this time, a determined look on her face and a book tucked under her arm.

Draco pulled the key from his robes and held them up to the doors. "Open!" he said, and the great oaken doors yawned wide. They walked up the steps and into the foyer where Hermione glanced all around, her mouth forming into an "o" of astonishment. Even as bare as it was with its sparse array of recovered furnishings, the three story structure was still impressive, especially the dragon ceiling with its swooping dragons flying all over the dome high above them. It made Harry duck once until he realized it was only a moving painting. He looked at Draco.

"This was your home?"

"Yeah. When you defeated Voldemort and I was captured, the Ministry confiscated the house and all our possessions, including our vaults at Gringotts. Any Dark thing was taken away by the Ministry and the furniture was sold off."

"How'd you get it back?"

Draco turned to Harry. "You bought it for me. As a wedding gift."

Harry's jaw dropped but no sound issued from his mouth.

He took Harry's hand and squeezed it. "It's one of the many reasons why I love you so much."

Harry looked down at their joined hands and gave Draco's an additional squeeze. He glanced over at Hermione who gave him a warm smile. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Come on." He held Harry's hand as he climbed the foyer's broad, curving staircase. They rounded the wide corner and at the top hung the full-sized portrait of his parents; Lucius Malfoy standing elegantly next to a chair in which Narcissa Malfoy sat. They were both gazing at some unseen spot in the distance outside the portrait.

And then they moved.

Lucius spoke first. "Draco!" His face burst into a pleased smile. And then his eyes fell on Harry. The smile faded. "And Potter." His eyes swept past Harry and finally lighted on Hermione. "And a Mudblood!"

"Father!"

"It's all right, Draco," she said, chin raised. "I expected it."

"I won't have it," growled Draco.

"Very well. Then Granger, if that will make you happier."

"It's Mrs. Weasley, if you please," she said, chin still high.

Lucius Malfoy sniffed. "Weasley? Coupled and no doubt breeding. What an unpleasant thought."

"Father," Draco warned.

Narcissa rose and placed her arm on her husband's. "Lucius, my love. Please. We have guests. It's pleasant to have guests. And it is our dear Draco and his…his husband. Have you forgotten so soon what he did for your spirit, darling?"

Harry leaned toward Draco to enquire but Draco shushed him. "I'll tell you later," he whispered.

Lucius' mouth drew up in a sneer. Clearly he did not like being reminded he was beholden to Harry Potter. He rolled his shoulders and squared them. "Of course," he said curtly. "My apologies, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Weasley. To what do we owe this visit?"

Draco swallowed. He certainly hoped the portrait was old enough to remember it. He grabbed the snow globe from his pocket and drew it out. "Do you remember this, Father?"

Lucius smiled. "Ah! Yes. Quite a neat piece of magic, that. Where did you find it, Draco?"

"I didn't. Harry did."

The staircase fell into silence, no one offering anything to anyone else. Finally Lucius studied Harry with renewed interest. "You don't mean to say-"

"It was at the Ministry," Hermione cut in, "in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. They couldn't figure it out and so Arthur Weasley sent it to Harry so that he could."

Lucius tried to hold it back, but in the end he couldn't. He threw back his head and roared with laughter. "It's too perfect!"

"Father! It's not funny! Harry's lost his memory. He doesn't remember anything but his own name and a bit of Hogwarts. He doesn't remember Voldemort or anything. He doesn't remember me."

Narcissa moved to the frame's edge. "Oh Mon petit dragon!" She slammed her elbow into Lucius' chest, effectively silencing him. "This is a tragedy, Lucius! How would you feel if I didn't remember you?"

Lucius looked at her slightly betrayed until her words sunk in. He considered this with only a raised brow. "I am sorry, Draco. I didn't think. Of course it's a tragedy. How much of his memory is actually gone?"

"All of it. He knew his name, that he is a wizard and about Hogwarts, but he's lost all his spells and hexes, all his blocks, every memory until the moment it happened."

He nodded. "Indeed. Quite thorough. It performed exactly as I designed it to do."

"That's just wonderful, Mr. Malfoy," said Hermione, a slight edge to her voice, "but how do we reverse it?"

"Oh you can't reverse it. That's the beauty of it…er…I mean, the tragedy of it."

Harry rose up the steps to stand directly beneath them. "You can't reverse it?"

Lucius suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Look, Potter. When I devised it, it was designed to take away your memories. Or Dumbledore's and render him useless. Either way would have made the Dark Lord happy, and we were always extremely interested in keeping the Dark Lord happy. It certainly wasn't designed to be countered easily. What would be the point?"

"I see," said Harry. He turned to Draco and gingerly touched his shoulder. "It's all right, mate. I'll just make new memories."

Lucius smirked. "Very admirable, Potter."

Draco lurched toward the painting. "That's not good enough! I want you to help us work on finding a counter curse for it."

"That's absurd!" cried the painting. "How can I do that when I'm in here?"

"I'll help you," said Hermione. She brandished the book she had carried under her arm. "Did you get the curse from this book?" She held up the cover so he could see it.

A reptilian smile spread over his lips. "Very good, Mrs. Weasley. How did you discover that? It was something I came across when I was a student at Hogwarts. I couldn't very well steal the entire book so I tore out the spell. I kept it for years. Came in handy eventually."

"Where is it now?"

"Tucked into one of the books in the library, I expect."

"But the library's been confiscated," said Draco.

"Oh." Lucius pressed his lip with his forefinger and thumb. "I'd forgotten that. Ministry scum."

Draco spun and sat hard on the top step. "Oh it's hopeless!"

Harry sat beside him and he felt the warmth of his lover's arm stretched around him. "Nothing is ever hopeless. I'm sure we'll find a way."

"Dumbledore has a copy of this book," Hermione reminded them, "and when he comes back we can take a look. But it doesn't mean we can't work on this on our own. I've been reading a lot about memory curses and the one thing they have in common is their basic attack on the mammillary bodies of the brain-"

"The what?" said Harry and Draco together.

"The mammillary bodies. This is the part of the brain most associated with memory. Some curses erase and rework the memories such as the Obliviate, while others only affect the pathways and redirect the memories to somewhere deeper in the brain which is why some memories can be recaptured by use of a Pensieve. And then there are others that simply wipe clean the mammillary bodies. And those memories are gone for good."

"So do you think it was this last one?" asked Draco.

"It acts like it, but since it didn't wipe out all of Harry's memories-he still remembers his name and retains his personality, you see-I tend to think it isn't. I think it's somewhere in between an Obliviate and the last one."

"So you're saying we might be able to retrieve his memories after all?"

"If we knew exactly what kind of curse this is."

They all turned toward Lucius Malfoy. He harrumphed. "That was six years ago! How do you expect me to remember all the intricacies of a very delicate and complicated spell?"

"Could you get us started?" Hermione turned to Draco. "I think you should bring us some chairs. We're going to be here for a while."

* * *

Draco, Hermione, and Lucius argued points of spells and curses as they tossed ideas back and forth. Since Harry had no idea what they were talking about he soon became bored. He wandered away and when he looked back and no one seemed to notice him missing, he just moved on.

The carpeted corridor was long, the walls covered in warm oak panels. The wood was faded where paintings used to hang between silver wall sconces. The house looked old; probably was. It also looked big, at least from the outside, and the grounds went on as if it were a park. So he and Draco owned this now. Pretty impressive.

When he came to a door he stopped and peered in. Many of the rooms were empty, or sheets covered what little furniture there was. He came to another room-a suite, really-and found it wholly furnished, complete with a monstrous bed in the middle of the room, a sitting area, and a dining room. It also had French doors that opened out to a terrace and a view of green rolling hills shouldered on either side by a dense wood. "Must be our room," he mused and walked in.

But then a little ugly creature stepped out from behind a wingchair and stared with round tennis ball-sized eyes. Harry leapt back and repressed the scream he wanted to bellow out. It had a snout nose and two bat-like ears with tufts of white hair sprouting from each one and was wearing a disgusting dish rag. "W-who are you?" Or what, more like, Harry wanted to say.

A voice issued from the beast, low and cranky. "The miserable Half-blood master is talking to Kreacher. If Kreacher simply walks past him, maybe the master will not wish to continue to speak."

The ugly little fellow hobbled toward the door and nearly made it out until Harry called out, "Is your name Kreacher?"

It stopped. Harry saw its shoulders tremble with anger before it pivoted. It wouldn't look at Harry. "It speaks to Kreacher," it said, shaking its head. "Master speaks and now I have to do its bidding. Oh my poor mistress. How glad Kreacher is that she is not here to see this. Kreacher can tell this used to be a noble Dark home full of Dark Wizards but nasty Ministry oafs and fools cleaned it out, and now it's no better than Mistress's home."

"Uh…" The little fellow's odd way of talking about himself in the third person was a little disconcerting at first, but Harry reckoned it was the thing's way. "Do you work here?"

The little being sighed dramatically. "Kreacher is master's house elf. If Master gives an order Kreacher must obey." But he trailed off with a long string of incoherent grumblings, which seemed to belie his earlier statement about obedience.

"Oh. Well, I don't have any orders for the moment. But we will be here for a while so I expect that the three of us will be needing food soon. Do we…do we eat in here?"

"When master was getting nasty with the Pureblood master, Master ate in here. But now you have three? Is there to be more nasty?"

Harry's face and ears suddenly warmed. "Uh…no! It's…friends. I mean…dammit…is there a dining room here? Downstairs, perhaps?"

"Master's dining hall is downstairs, near the library. If it pleases Master, that is where poor Kreacher will set Master's food. But Kreacher knows Master is a nasty boy and may wish something else someplace else-"

"No, that's fine!" he answered sharply. "But I'm rather certain that Master-I mean that I don't like that tone you're taking."

"Master is upset with poor Kreacher. Of course he is. He takes Kreacher out of the only home he has ever known and dumps him at Hogwarts where all sorts of Mudbloods and Half-bloods take on with Purebloods and expects Kreacher to like it. And then he takes Kreacher to Malfoy Manor where a right good Pureblood family used to live and makes it into a house of Half-blood nastiness. But Kreacher shouldn't complain. Oh no."

"Oh for the love of- All right. Go on, then. But don't go creeping around in these rooms again, you hear!"

Harry watched with a grimace as the beastly creature shuffled out the door. Maybe having his memory back wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

He glanced at the bed again. 'Getting nasty with the Pureblood master'. He supposed that meant Draco. Blimey! Did all the world know what they got up to? That he wished he could remember!

Harry moved through the room, feeling strange as if he were intruding. As with everything around him, nothing looked familiar. He reached the French doors and opened them, stepping out to the terrace. He leaned on the railings and looked out into the placid landscape. The clouds were backlit by an autumn sun colouring the sky in gold and whispering shades of tangerine. He had to admit it was beautiful here. He supposed when they weren't teaching he and Draco would live here. "But it seems awfully big for just two people," he muttered.

"We seem to like it."

Harry spun, wand raised.

Draco stared at it. "Well, at least some instincts have stayed with you."

Embarrassed, Harry swiftly lowered it. "Sorry. Instincts, yeah."

Draco approached and stood beside him, looking out at the view. "Noticed you were missing and I went looking for you."

"Is this our room?"

"Yes. It's still strange for me to see you in my old rooms even after we finished out our honeymoon here. That is, after the séance that sent my father's ghost on to the Great Beyond."

"Séance? Draco, just what did we do on this honeymoon?"

"What didn't we do?" he said offhandedly. "Oh, it was just another holiday for Malfoy and Potter. We always manage to get into all sorts of mischief." He smiled at Harry but it seemed strained.

Harry slowly moved toward Draco and slid into his arms. It felt good there, like he belonged. "I'm sorry about all this?"

"Why are you apologizing to me, Harry? I'm the one with the malicious family who created that damned snow globe."

"I'm just sorry, that's all. We should be happily teaching classes at Hogwarts and shagging every night instead of worrying that I've lost my marbles or something."

Draco hugged him tighter. "Well, I don't know about the rest, but this shagging every night…Sounds promising."

"Must be those instincts kicking in again," he said, smiling into Draco's neck. His skin smelled so good.

"I know I'm selfish. I mean…that's my calling card, after all. But I feel if you love me, I can stand the rest. Of course that isn't taking into consideration how you feel about it all. I just don't want to push you into anything."

"I don't feel pushed. I feel loved. And I just want to give it back."

"I don't want you to feel obligated, is all."

Harry pressed closer and slid his pelvis into Draco's. "Does that feel like 'obligation'?"

Draco drew back a little to look at Harry's face and smirked. "That's…No."

"Right, then. If I were you…" Harry leaned in, his lips mere centimeters from Draco's. He felt his husband's breath catch. "I wouldn't worry too much about the rest." He kissed him, a long, slow investigation of Draco's lips and mouth. He petted the soft blond hair and then dragged his hands down his neck and rubbed slow, easy circles on his back. Draco melted against him.

Somehow their lips separated and Draco whispered, "Harry, I love you so much…" until mouths joined once more. Harry felt it, too. He loved Draco. He knew he did. It wasn't just lust. He loved the proud way he tilted up his chin when he thought he was being insulted, and he loved how strident his voice could become when he was angry. He loved the soft grey of his eyes when he gazed lovingly at Harry, and he liked the long fingers and strong bones of his hands when he caressed Harry's skin. He equally loved Draco's kisses as well as his insults because they came from the same source and often meant the same thing. He could at least see that much in his inexperience with the man. Draco was almost as easy to read as any spell book. Maybe easier. Maybe because deep in Harry's brain-or was it his heart?-whatever it was that made him Harry Potter, could never forget loving him.

"Oh Draco." His cheek caressed the other's. "I love you, too."

Draco answered him with a searing kiss. They held each other a long time, kissing and murmuring to one another. Until they heard Hermione's voice searching for them and they regretfully pulled apart. Harry trailed a finger down Draco's chin and planted a soft kiss to it. "We'll continue this later," he whispered. Draco was flushed and his grey eyes were glazed. He nodded, mesmerized by Harry's face so close to his.

Hermione came in just as they drew away. She reddened and paused in the doorway but then came forward. "I'm…sorry to interrupt. But Lucius wants to try something and we'll need Harry."

Holding hands, Harry and Draco stepped into the corridor and walked back toward the painting with Hermione in tow.

Lucius Malfoy glared at their joined hands and looked away. Narcissa touched his arm lightly. Hermione plunged ahead. "Mr. Malfoy thinks that we could try some spells on Harry to bring his unconscious forward. If we can find some buried memories, then there might be hope."

"What about that weird memory of the turbaned chap?" asked Harry. "It's the only other thing I can recall besides my name."

"Quirrell, you mean?" said Hermione.

"What's this?" asked Lucius.

Hermione turned to him. "Harry can remember only a vague recollection of Professor Quirrell and Voldemort."

"What a minute!" Harry cut in. "That was Voldemort?"

"Yes. As you explained it to Ron and me, Voldemort was inhabiting Quirrell's body and this other face you remember came out of the back of his head."

Ew. He was glad he didn't really remember that. "So why do I have this memory of Voldemort and nothing else?"

"That," said Lucius Malfoy, "is a very good question. By all rights, you should have remembered nothing but your name. That is how I designed the curse."

"Right." Harry was beginning to feel a little angry at his father-in-law, who still seemed pleased that his curse had worked at last. "So is that significant?"

Hermione's forehead crinkled with lines. "I don't know. Let's try some of these experiments that Mr. Malfoy suggested first."

"Um…" Harry moved his weight from one foot to the other. "I don't know…"

"Are you saying you don't trust me, Potter?"

"Well…" He looked at Draco who's brow rose slightly. "It's just that you're the one who cursed me in the first place. I don't know that-"

"Oh this is rich!" cried Lucius. His devil's smile spread across his face. It looked remarkably like the ones Draco wore. "This is hysterical! You see, Draco. Trust only goes so far. The Great Harry Potter. The man you chose for a husband. Well. See where you are now. I suppose the honeymoon is over."

"You can't blame Harry, Father. He's right. You are the one who cursed him. But you may also recall it was his idea and his research that got your spirit sent on to Mother. That's pretty nice work from someone who hates you."

"He was only trying to get my ghost out of your hair."

"So what? It was a bloody nice thing to do."

"Nice! Since when has that-"

"Stop it, you two!" Hermione's fists were planted firmly in her hips. "We're not going to get anywhere with this."

"I'd feel more comfortable if we had the actual spell," said Harry. He wouldn't look at Draco. He hated to get into a debate about trust between father and son. Blood was thicker than water, after all, and Harry didn't want Draco to choose.

"We can't get the book until Dumbledore returns," she said irritably.

"But…why wait? Can't we just…you know…Apparate into his office?"

They all looked at Harry.

Lucius Malfoy chuckled. "How very Slytherin of you, Mr. Potter."

Hermione's eyes grew large as saucers. "Harry! You can't do that! It's private."

"I know, but aren't these special circumstances? And if I'm supposed to be this great wizard, don't I have privileges or something?"

"Not like that, Harry. That's an invasion of Dumbledore's privacy. It wouldn't be right."

Harry looked at Draco. "You coming with me?"

"You're going? I hate to say this, Harry, but Hermione's right. Oh not about the 'it isn't right' nonsense, but there might be all kinds of wards and spells we don't know about."

"Well if it's supposed to be so hard to Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts, how much worse can it be to get into his office? I'm willing to give it a go."

"Harry, I don't know…"

He grabbed Draco's arm. "Too bad, mate. The decision's made." He got one look at Draco's horror-stricken face, screwed up his concentration, and spun, just as he felt Draco do. He hoped it wasn't hard to Disapparate, thinking only about possible consequences when it was far too late.

A bone-shuddering crack accompanied their sudden appearance into a strange office filled with book shelves, strange knick knacks that floated about, and odd paintings with wide-eyed wizards.

Draco shucked Harry's hand from his arm. "Dammit, Harry! That was really stupid! You could have killed us. Or at the very least splinched us!"

"We seem all right. Though I don't like the sound of 'splinched', whatever that is."

"Well precisely! You don't even know the dangers-"

"All the better for me, then, isn't it? No worries. Anyway, we are here in one piece, so stop complaining. Honestly Draco. It's as if you never took a chance in your life."

"Slytherins don't take chances. Only when the odds are in our favour."

"Hmpf. Makes for a dull world, that." He headed for the bookshelves. "Since we are here, are you going to help me find the book? There must be hundreds of books here."

Draco swore some more but stomped over to a bookshelf and climbed the ladder.

Harry moved to a far corner and spotted a scarlet bird on a perch. The bird was aiming its yellow eye at him and cooing. "Wow. Aren't you a beauty?" He raised his hand and stroked the bird. "Hey, Draco, look at this. What kind of bird is this?"

"It's a phoenix," he growled without looking back. "His name is Fawkes and he likes you. The jury's out on how he feels about me."

"That's 'cause you're grumpy all the time," he said, petting the bird.

"I'm not grumpy all the time. I'm not grumpy when we're in bed."

Harry glanced up at the Slytherin. It was a nice view of him up the ladder. "Well that's true." He turned back to Fawkes. "So you like me, do you Fawkes? Wish you could tell us where Memory Curses for the Ages is."

The bird opened its wings, beat the air, and lifted off the perch. He flew in a circle around the domed ceiling and finally landed on a very high shelf on the second story. He pecked at a book spine.

Harry looked at Draco. Could the bird really have understood him? They both scrambled at the same time; Draco down the ladder and Harry up the stairs to the upper gallery. Draco arrived after Harry and they both climbed ladders to reach the high shelf where Fawkes was perched and cooing. Harry couldn't believe it. He thought he saw the title and pushed his ladder closer. And there it was: Memory Curses for the Ages!

He grabbed it at almost the same time as Draco. They both had a hold of it in shaky hands and were pulling it free, but it was a heavy book and not to be handled one-handed. "I've got it, Draco."

"You're dropping it."

"No I'm not. Let go."

"You're going to drop it!"

"Draco!"

"Gentlemen. What is the meaning of this?"

They turned in time to spy Dumbledore standing in the doorway. He was scowling and didn't look at all happy. But it was suddenly a moot point because Harry lost his balance and Draco lost his grip of the book and all three came tumbling down.


On to Chapter Eight
"Unfixable"

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"First Date"

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