http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1185249/Elpin

edited sssssssss scenes

Bound By Prophecy

By Elpin

Summary: "Either must die at the hands of the other" At the final battle Draco kills Voldemort, while Lucius kills Harry. Will Harry's task ever be over, or will destiny pull him back?

During the final battle The Dark Lord Voldemort is killed, as is the Boy Who Lived. That should be where the story ends, but it's not. It has barely begun.

Prologue.

The Battlefield, as it would be known to the wizarding world generations later, was reminiscent of a fireworks display. If it weren't for the screams and shouts that echoed through the night, along with the many mangled bodies on the ground (more falling every moment), then a muggle might find it a beautiful sight. As it was there was nothing remotely beautiful about it, except if one considers war to be beautiful.

Harry was underneath his invisibility cloak, consciously restraining himself from flinging it off and joining the other Order members and Aurors, along with his friends. Instead he ducked and rolled, clinging to the cloak and occasionally sticking out his wand and shooting curses. He moved quickly, not wanting to give away his position.

A piercing scream, louder than the others, filled his ears and his heart seemed to become a lump of ice in his chest. He scanned the scene before him and saw someone wreathing under the Cruciatus Curse. It didn't last long as another spell hit the torturer. That's what you get for stopping to indulge in sadistic tendencies in the middle of a battle. Harry didn't have time to dwell on it and started running towards one edge of the battlefield, dodging and ducking as he went. It wasn't long until he saw a tall and thin figure standing a way off, surveying the fight like some ancient general, no one daring even to go near him. Harry gritted his teeth, adrenaline pumping so furiously he hardly felt the burn in his scar as he approached.

Voldermort's red eyes grew wide as he felt Harry's presence. He swiftly stepped forwards and started cursing himself a path towards where he felt Harry was near. Harry's eyes darted around him, hoping his friends where far away. Even the Death Eaters were trying to move their duels away, not wanting to get in their master's path, but there were so many people. Harry decided it was now or never.

He should perhaps have cast the Killing Curse as soon as the cloak was off, that was the plan, but the look on Voldermort's face needed to be wiped off. Voldermort sneered almost gleefully when he saw Harry. The air seemed to grow thick and the noise didn't reach Harry's ears anymore.

"Potter! Come to die at last?" Voldermort hissed. Obviously there was a look on Harry's face that also needed to be replaced before dying.

"No, I've come to kill you at last, for good this time!" Harry shouted back confidently.

"You cannot kill me, Harry Potter," Voldermort answered, equally confident. "I doubt you can even cast the curse. You don't know a thing about killing, the power that it both requires and gives!"

"Power enough to split your soul?" Harry asked, his eyes shining with hard determination and a hint of malice. Harry had wondered if red eyes could look surprised and fearful, he was glad to be proved right. Suddenly a shout was heard that seemed to get through to Harry. His head turned and saw a body fly through the air and land only a few feet slightly behind and to the left of them. Death Eaters were starting to rally around their leader and the good guys had re-grouped and were pushing forward again. Harry stared at the blond hair and hoped it was Lucius Malfoy. He looked up at Voldermort and wondered what kind of strange place he had arrived in when neither of them where pointing wands at each other. It seemed Voldermort was suddenly desperate to know what Harry knew and was also confused why Harry wasn't lifting his wand.

Suddenly Draco Malfoy, who it had really been, was scrambling to his feet, but Harry wasn't really paying attention as he was locked in some kind of bizarre staring contest with the Dark Lord. Right then many things happened at once and no one, apart from Harry perhaps, would ever really figure out exactly what happened. It all happened very quickly, within a few seconds at most. Draco saw Harry looking strange, almost as if he was being imperiused. He ran forward. He did not notice that Lucius Malfoy, having followed the body he threw away, was now closing in behind him. Draco raised his wand at Voldermort, feeling absolutely no emotion in that moment. Then as Voldermort's eyes flickered to him he felt an enormous anger welling up inside him.

When Voldermort's gaze left him Harry couldn't help but follow it. He turned and saw Draco pointing his wand directly at the Dark Lord. It didn't confuse him that the wand wasn't pointed at him, but he felt immense fear rise up in him. He had begged Draco to stay away from the fight. Obviously his love had disobeyed.

Right then his eyes shifted and he saw Lucius pointing his wand directly at Draco's back. He reacted half a second later.

"Draco!"

"Avada Kedavra!" Two Malfoys shouted at the exact same time. Harry was pulling at Draco before they were finished and spinning around so that he held Draco to his chest and he knew in that instant that the curse would hit his back at any moment. The position also gave him the perfect view of Voldermort as Draco's curse hurtled towards him. The red eyes were wide and full of fear. Harry watched in a detached way as the curse hit Voldermort first. Everything was moving in slow motion. Only his mind didn't seem to slow down along with it. He sighed with relief as the Dark Lord fell lifeless to the ground. The next, and last, thing he felt was a lump in his throat as he held Draco to him and hoped to Merlin his love would live after he was gone. Then the only thing he knew was darkness…

The next second Draco stood, his wand having been dropped when Harry had grabbed him, and stared straight ahead. Suddenly, just as it had happened many years ago at Godric's Hollow, the air shifted and Voldermort's body exploded in a shockwave of magic. Everyone within a certain radius was thrown backwards, the force enough to destroy a house. Draco fell back beside Harry and hit his head. Silence reigned eerily, no more spells lit the night, as the people farther off started to move tentatively forward.

Draco groaned as he woke a few moments later and his hand went up behind his head, but he pulled it back when he winced in pain. He sat up slowly and looked around, his eyes falling almost casually on Harry's lifeless body beside him. For three lifelong seconds his mind was a complete blank. Then he chocked and at the same time scrambled to his knees and leaned over Harry.

"No, no, no, nonononono," he chanted as he cupped Harry's face in his hands. "Harry!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Harry wake up! You're ok. Wake up!" Tears were already streaming down his face, but he didn't even notice. Harry's eyes were lifeless. The curse had left no sign of the cause of death, but Draco had seen people die by that curse before. He grabbed Harry's shoulders and shook hard. "Harry! Wake up!" He was screaming louder now, his voice high-pitched and desperate. He didn't even notice Ron and Hermione approaching. Hermione's face was already wet with tears, and more continued to flow. As Draco screamed once more for Harry to wake up Ron's tears fell as well. The redhead looked down at Hermione and opened his arms. She threw herself at him and sobbed into his chest. Ron closed his eyes and cried silently.

"HARRY! You're not dead. You're fine, just wake up!" Draco was babbling. He was still shaking the dead body, but he looked up when he heard a groan from nearby. Not far from Ron and Hermione a blond head lifted up. Lucius Malfoy looked around dazedly. Something clicked in Draco's mind and he understood at least one part of what had happened. He sprang to his feet.

"YOU!" He lunged forward, but Ron managed to let go of Hermione and grab Draco around the waist. Draco was practically being held off the ground as he reached out for Lucius, who was staring up at them in confusion. "You bastard! You fucking murderer! I'll fucking kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!" Draco was clawing the air in front of him as if he could pull himself closer. Lucius was still at a loss. Hermione was sobbing into her hands.

"Draco! Stop! He's going to Azkaban!" Ron cried, pulling Draco back against his chest and holding the slightly shorted boy closer.

"He deserves the Kiss! He deserves to be snogged to death! You bastard! I'll kill you!" Just then Mr. Weasley came towards them. Ron nodded at Lucius.

"Take his wand quick and get him out of here." Arthur nodded and accio'd Lucius' wand. He motioned for one of the nearby Aurors, who was busy binding all the still unconscious Death Eaters. Some were waking up, however, and apparating as quickly as they could when they managed to realize what had happened. The Auror came forward and, stunning Lucius, levitated the body away. Draco had stopped protesting when Arthur had come forward, but now he started thrashing again.

"Let me go! Let me go!" He yelled. Ron sighed and did just that. Draco immediately turned back to Harry and fell to his knees again. Ron went back to holding Hermione and looking down at the pair on the ground. Arthur was looking back and forth between Ron and Draco, a deep frown on his face.

"They… were together," Ron managed, tears streaming down his face again. Hermione let a loud sob escape at that and Ron held her tighter. Arthur looked stunned as he gazed at Harry and Draco. Only Ron and Hermione had known about the rivals turned lovers. Draco was stroking Harry's face now, looking quite insane. His hair was a mess, along with his robes and somehow his face was dirty as well as wet.

"Harry? Please, wake up. Just wake up for me, please? He's gone. No more fighting. We're supposed to be together now. You promised me we'd be together forever once this was done!" Several Order members had abandoned their binding work, leaving it to the Aurors, and stood now in a large circle around the two boys- no, they were men, although Draco looked horribly young at the moment. Mrs. Weasley walked straight into her husband's arms and sobbed. Fred and George were holding Ginny. Everybody who was actually looking at the scene, except for Ron and now Arthur, had good dose of confusion along with the sadness in their eyes. Draco smoothed the front of Harry's robes. Sobs were starting to shake his frame. "Merlin, please! I'll do anything, just wake up!"

Suddenly Draco stopped babbling and clutched at Harry's robes, his face buried in Harry's chest. He sobbed loudly, the utter pain heard in each cry making new tears flow from everyone who could hear them. No one knew how long they stood there and watched as Draco clung to Harry and sobbed. No one dared speak or even move. Dumbledore was coming towards them now, a deeply sad expression on his face, though his eyes were dry. He came to stand by Arthur and Molly, looking silently at the redheaded man.

"Apparently they were together," Arthur whispered his answer to the unspoken question. Dumbledore looked back at the sobbing man with a frown on his face. The old man stepped forward carefully and crouched down beside Draco.

"Draco," he said softly, but the blond didn't react. "Draco, you must come with me," Dumbledore said a little more forcefully. "I need you to come with me. Harry wouldn't have wanted you to sit here like this." Draco stiffened at this and looked up at the Headmaster. The eyes were red-rimmed and extremely puffy, but they shone with a coldness that surprised everyone.

"There are only three people alive on this earth who know anything about what Harry would have wanted," Draco spat. "I am one, and you sure as hell aren't one of the others." Dumbledore simply looked searchingly into Draco's eyes, as if to determine the truth in those words. He sighed.

"Please, come with me, Draco," he said. Draco looked down at Harry again, a chocked sob escaping. He leant down, even more tears wetting his face, and pressed his lips to Harry's. Everyone in the circle seemed to look away respectfully. The kiss was so full of despair that it cut like a knife through the heart of everyone present. It seemed to go on forever, but finally Draco sat up again and stood shakily, his eyes closed. He followed Dumbledore, not caring in the least where he was being led. Arthur conjured up a white sheet and laid it over the body. Draco seemed to have become numb as they neared the group of Aurors organizing the removal of the captured and injured. Dumbledore took one of the portkeys and gestured for Draco to hold onto it. A moment later and they were gone.

In the days following the death of the Dark Lord and Harry Potter the wizarding world came to know many things about the night in question. Draco was revealed to have been the one to cast the Killing Curse at Voldermort, and was the only person ever to be forgiven for using an Unforgivable. Draco refused to speak with any press, disappearing from public life for a long time, and never accepting any awards the Ministry might like to give him. It was also known that Harry had died saving Draco's life. It became the love story known all over the wizarding world; the wizards' version of Romeo and Juliet. Harry became The Boy Who Lived To Die For Love. It was all sappy and a lot of details were lost. Many versions had Harry duelling with Lucius for his rights to Draco.

At the funeral Draco did not attend, but he visited the grave many times after. It was simple and stood beside the graves of Lily, James and Sirius. Ron and Hermione often came as well. They had been married the moment they turned seventeen, not even waiting for school to finish. Draco for some reason married Pansy, though both Ron and Hermione knew it was not a happy match. They tried to keep in touch, but Draco became more and more secluded. It would take years before he even started working again. When he did he would put all his energy into it, making sure to keep building up the Malfoy reputation, even though he was now not only a war hero, but the man who killed the Dark Lord. But that wouldn't happen for over a decade.

You would think that this is where the story ended. It is not. In fact it has barely begun. Nine months later, in a large wizarding home in Norway, a baby boy was born. He would soon grow to have thick almost black hair, and perfect green eyes, though neither parent had green eyes. There was a strange birthmark on his forehead, barely visible under the raven bangs, shaped like a lightning bolt…

Either must die at the hand of the other...

Chapter 1: Alex and the Rosén family

"Alex!" A shapely woman called out over the garden. She was a of average height and build. The flowers stood in full bloom and their scent filled the air. It was still a bit chilly, the mansion being pretty far above sea level, but the sun warmed wherever it reached. The woman flipped her long light brown hair over her shoulder and stepped further out into the protected garden. "Alex!" She called again, pronouncing the name in her native tongue.

"Here, Mum!" The little boy, just over four years old came running out from behind a bush. "I think I saw a garden gnome!" He said, pointing to the bush. The woman frowned slightly, making a mental note to floo the gardener. She looked down at her son and smiled softly.

"Mother has a meeting with her Witches Guild in a moment. I want you to stay inside while I'm gone. Father will be home before me. Ok?" Alex nodded, used to being left alone occasionally. "The house elf will bring you dinner." She gestured for him to go inside before her and he ran inside with childish enthusiasm. She followed at a more dignified pace. Alex stopped running once inside, knowing his mother didn't approve of that and turned to wait for her. She came through the French doors and stepped over to the fireplace in the large drawing room. She waved goodbye and was soon gone in a burst of green flames. Alex returned to his room, which took about ten minutes considering the size of the place. He decided to play with some of his toys.

The wizarding community in Norway wasn't as large as in Britain. There is after all only a little over four and a half million muggles living there. However, due to the large expanses of wilderness in the country there was a lot of room to build and hide great wizarding homes. There were several large pure-blood families, Alex' being one of them.

The Rosén family could easily be compared to the Malfoy family in Britain, except for the fact that they never had anything to do with the war, and were quite more involved with the muggle community that surrounded them. Elisabeth Rosén worked tirelessly with her Witches Guild, operating alongside muggle organizations to preserve the many fjords and the wilderness she loved dearly. Kenneth Rosén worked in the Ministry, though he used to play professional Quiddith for the Karasjok Kites. He would never miss an opportunity to brag about the fact that his family could be traced back to Ingolfr the Iambic, who had first made Quiddith popular in Norway. The Roséns made a very loving family.

Alex was only four, but mature for his age. He sat playing with a few wizard toys, Quiddith figurines in particular, and imagined himself on a broom flying like his father used to. His father had promised him he would get one once he turned eight, but even then he would only be allowed a few feet off the ground. He had tried to steal one from his father's from the trophy room, but had unfortunately been caught.

The room seemed to grow darker, but the little boy paid it no mind, absently thinking some cloud was simply blocking out the sun. Alex was feeling heavy headed suddenly. He stared off into space for a moment, his toys slipping from his fingers. For a moment he thought he saw something in the shadows of the room, or perhaps in the shadows of his mind. Why it happened at that particular moment is hard to say. Alex was just thinking about Quiddith, something he did quite often, and then he wasn't thinking about the game at all. Something sprang at him, but not physically.

Groaning as if he was in unbearable pain Alex fell back on the bed, hands coming up and clutching at his skull. He started to sweat and pant, and all he wanted to do what make everything go blank, but he felt as if his head would never be blank again because it was so full. Either his head needed to explode or he needed to pass out. In the end the latter won out fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, indeed it is hard to say.

That was how Mrs. Rosén found her son, lying on the bed and looking deathly pale. She had been called upon at work by a house elf, who had been unable to wake up little Alex for his meal. She immediately rushed over to her son and smoothed away the hair sticking to his clammy forehead.

"Alex?" She asked, a slight desperation in her voice. She felt his pulse, which was strong, and felt some relief at that. She shook the boy gently, calling out to him again.

Harry groaned, his every muscle feeling as if he had run a mile, and squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

"Alex?" a voice called, sounding very distant to his ears. His mind immediately cried out 'Mother' and this sent a jolt through him. He felt as if there were two people inside his head, but he couldn't separate them. He tried remembering the last time he had been awake, only to be confronted by two completely different memories. In one he was just playing with his favourite toys. In the other he had been saying goodbye to Draco before the Killing Curse had hit his back. His head still felt like exploding, though it seemed to be containing itself for the moment. Harry knew he should open his eyes and reassure his mother. She was calling out to him again. Harry then mentally shook his head. Wait one second. His mother? But that was who this person was, his mind held no doubt.

Finally he opened his eyes and saw his mother smile in relief. She was stroking his face and murmuring nonsensical things. It was completely impossible to describe his state of mind at that moment. He knew this woman, he loved her dearly. Yet, this was not Lily Potter. He remembered his name, Alex, just as easily as he remembered his "first" name Harry. He knew he was both and yet the very idea was impossible. Most arguably because he was absolutely positive he had died.

"Alex, please say something," his mother pleaded.

"I'm ok, Mum," he said. His voice was at once completely familiar and alien to him. So childlike, yet he couldn't exactly recall how it was suppose to sound.

"Takk gudene!" she breathed in her native language, thanking the gods. "What happened?" He frowned in thought. What had happened? At the moment it felt like he was neither Alex Rosén nor Harry Potter. He was observing both from a distance. How could he be both? How could he be any of them? Both seemed strange. The idea that he was somehow the dead Boy Who Lived was just as amazing to him as the idea that he was just a normal kid, living with his mum and dad in the mountains where he'd somehow always lived. But he hadn't always lived there.

"I'm not sure," he said at last, thinking it best not to say anything to his mother about suddenly having the memories of a famous dead person in his head. "I think I just fell asleep."

"Fell asleep? But the house elf couldn't wake you, sweetie. Are you sure you didn't hit your head or anything?" He wanted to cry suddenly. He wanted to curl up into his mother's arms and sob his heart out. There were so many conflicting emotions, too many memories flashing randomly through his mind.

"Maybe," he croaked out, feeling the lump in his throat and the sting in his eyes. Another thought flashed through his mind: That he couldn't remember the last time he had cried, while at the same time remembering crying after falling on his arse just yesterday. His mother wasted no time and gathered him into her arms.

"Oh, poor baby. Does it hurt? We'll get a mediwitch to come see you right away. Don't worry." She carefully ran her fingers through his hair, but didn't find any bumps. Harry let out a gasping sob, not knowing why exactly, perhaps just crying over the injustice of it all. "Oh, sweetie. Where does it hurt?" His mother sounded so worried, but that only made it worse and he buried his face against her stomach, hands clinging to her desperately. She continued to stroke his hair, murmuring nonsensical words of comfort again.

Harry wanted nothing more than to never move again. With each passing second he became more aware. His memories from both lives became clearer and he sobbed with the conflicting realization: That he somehow had a loving family now, and that he hadn't been allowed to die and forget like a normal person. Instantly his mind flashed him an image of Draco and he sobbed harder, feeling as if he had lost the boy forever, which he probably had. His mother picked him up like a baby in her arms, and carried him out of the room. His sobbing subsided as she neared the drawing room and laid him down on the couch, kneeling beside it and looking into his eyes.

"Alex, I'm going to call the mediwitch ok? Just stay put for a moment."

"I'm fine, Mum. Don't call anyone. Please? I was just… I'm fine," Harry finished lamely, knowing his mother would not be satisfied with it. Was this woman his mother? Of course she was! One part of his brain screamed. And yet another asked tentatively: What about Lily? Whose mother was she? Mine, of course! And as Elisabeth leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead he felt that there was nothing more logical than having two mothers who both gave birth to him, and he felt like crying again, but held it in. He wanted things to go blank again. Sleep was better. Maybe all those memories from Harry Potter would just go away in his sleep and he wouldn't have to worry about them tomorrow.

It seemed like only a moment later when a witch in a uniform was standing over him and checking him with all sorts of spells. She and his mother stepped away and spoke in hushed whispers for a while. Then the witch left and his mother knelt beside the couch again.

"She says there's nothing wrong…"

"I'm fine, Mum." She nodded and smiled, the expression not quite reaching her eyes and she stroked his cheek.

"Are you hungry?" Harry wasn't hungry at all. He still felt full all over, but he nodded, knowing it would worry her if he refused. She sighed almost imperceptibly in relief and helped him up. "Me too," she said, smiling more and offering her hand to him. He took it and they walked into the familiar dining room. Yet Harry couldn't help but look around a bit as if he'd neverseen it before.

"Don't you have to go back to work?" Harry asked once they'd settled themselves at the table.

"No, I'm staying right here," she said and Harry suddenly felt like crying again. But he just smiled and tried to eat with enthusiasm once the house elves put his favourite food in front of him.

…

His mother, for that was whom Elisabeth Rosén was without a doubt, stayed with him for two whole days. She was not a woman who liked uncertainties, and didn't like to leave Alex alone when she wasn't sure what had happened. When Kenneth came home for dinner she told him what happened. Harry was sitting on the couch in the drawing room, flipping through a book, secretly amazed that he could suddenly read as well as his former self. His father came forward and knelt in front of Alex, looking him over.

"How are you feeling, son?" he asked. Harry wanted desperately to jump into the man's arms, but held back.

"I'm fine," he said in a small voice, then he realized it was because he was only four years old and his voice was suppose to sound like that. He mentally shook himself, going from one to the other all the time was disconcerting.

"Well, you don't look like you're about to faint," his father mused, then he smiled. "How about I give you a broom ride to the dining room?" For a brief second Harry was confused, but almost immediately he grinned and nodded eagerly. Kenneth picked him up around the waist and placed him over the tall man's shoulders. He held onto Alex' legs and the little boy squealed with joy when his father set off at a run, sometimes ducking and swerving to mimic a broom ride. Mrs. Rosén stood shaking her head and smiling after them. When they reached the dining room Kenneth was doing commentary.

"And Rosén is closing in on the snitch, the other team doesn't stand a chance!"

"Where is it! I don't see it!" Alex laughed. Kenneth fished out a golden galleon from his pocket.

"It's right there!" he said and flipped the coin in the air right in front of Alex. The little boy's hand flew out and grabbed the coin out of the air. Kenneth raised his eyebrows at the fast catch; secretly thinking his son would perhaps make a fine seeker one day. "And the Kites win the championship!" he cried and Alex laughed as his father lifted him down and placed him in a dining room chair. Alex tried to give the coin back, but his father stopped him. "You keep it, you caught it after all, didn't you? My little seeker." He ruffled the dark hair affectionately. It was a bit odd that their son had such dark hair and green eyes. Everybody in their family that Kenneth could recall had light brown or blond hair with grey or blue eyes. Still, they thought the combination quite beautiful.

"Alright you two, enough Quiddith. Let's eat," Elisabeth said as she seated herself. They all knew she was indulging them because she was still worried about what had happened. Alex smiled gratefully at his mother and giggled when his father winked at him. Inwardly Harry was near tears, tears of joy.

The only thing he could think of was that this was his second chance somehow. This was his chance at a normal life, a wizard life even! Like he was supposed to have had all along. He knew he wasn't really four years old, but he didn't care. He was going to enjoy his second childhood. He felt so many emotions he had never known before. Most of all a desire to make his parents proud. When he had caught the galleon and his father had called him a seeker he made up his mind that he would become a Quiddith player, just like dear old dad. No more fighting bad guys for him! Harry tucked into the meal with enthusiasm, not least because his mother had once again provided his favourites.

…

A week passed and Harry was allowed to have a play date with some of the other wizarding boys his age. They came through the floo with their mothers, all members of the Witches' Guild, coming to have tea with Mrs. Rosén. The boys played outside mostly, being watched carefully by a house elf. Harry tried joining in, but the more time passed the more he remembered who he really was. It was harder than he had imagined being a child. The other boys even teased him when he had sounded too grown-up for them. It wasn't anything like the teasing from his first childhood, but it still reminded him that he would never really have one. Perhaps this wasn't his second chance? Why would he need to remember anything from Harry Potter if it was? Could there be some other reason why he was sent back?

Later that day after the boys and their mothers had left, but before Alex' father came home, he snuck into the large library, which was also his father's study. The room was decorated in dark green colours, with mahogany furniture. Along one side were very tall windows, in front of which stood a big desk. A huge stone fireplace with a set of chairs and couch in front of it was across from the doors. To Harry's right were the bookshelves, so tall there was a ladder with wheels that could be moved along a rail at the top. There were also several glass-cabinets with artefacts within, and above the fireplace there was a display of Kenneth Rosén's Quiddith trophies, brooms and an old Quaffle.

Harry tiptoed inside and went straight for the first bookshelf. He scanned the titles, finally landing on the one he was looking for among the biographies, Harry Potter: Boy Who Lived, For Love. It was one he had seen his mother read on occasion, apparently she was a closet-romantic. Harry grimaced as he grabbed it and opened to a random page. He started reading.

During Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts he entered into the Triwizard Tournament, a very dangerous competition with an age restriction of seventeen. Though he maintained he did not put his name in the Goblet of Fire for as long as he lived, one cannot help but wonder, considering his past adventures, if he feared it would be a dull year at school if he didn't enter. Draco Malfoy, according to many of his year-mates, sported a support Cedric Diggory badge. Is this an indication that their forbidden love had not yet bloomed? Blaise Zabini, who has contributed vast amounts of knowledge on Draco Malfoy during his younger years, confirms, however, that Draco Malfoy was 'in hysterics' when Harry Potter did not emerge on time from the second task, an underwater rescue of his best friend, Ronald Weasley. Pansy Malfoy (former Parkinson) denies this incident, as she does many others. Since Draco Malfoy refuses to comment at all on any subject relating to his deceased lover, we cannot rightly know, though future events would suggest that their love was kept hidden long before it became public knowledge.

Harry was frowning as he read. The book was irritatingly correct on some points, and completely wrong on others. Harry's heart felt like shattering when he read the name Pansy Malfoy. When had that happened? Had Draco gotten over him so quickly? Four years and nine months… it wasn't that long a time to get over the love of your life, was it? And when had they gotten married anyway? And wasn't Draco gay?

One thing was for sure: He was definitely Harry Potter reincarnated. Harry slammed the book shut and marched over to one of the glass-cabinets. He stared at his reflection. He didn't look like his parents, or at least not his current ones. He still had James' dark hair, though it wasn't as wild as before, and Lily's green eyes. Harry lifted his fringe and squinted. He wasn't sure, since it wasn't a proper mirror, but he was sure there was supposed to be a very faint birthmark there. With relief Harry realised he didn't need glasses this time around, then he shook himself. It was weird when completely normal things, like not needing glasses or getting enough food, would suddenly surprise him. He hoped it was a side effect from the shock of all of his old memories returning.

Harry opened the book again and realised suddenly that it was English. He had been reading not only a grown-up book, but one in a now foreign language. He had never known another language before, except if you counted Parseltongue, which he didn't, and the awareness that he knew two now was… odd.

Harry put the book back and returned to his room. If he could read as well as before, could he do other stuff, like spells? He knew he wouldn't be given a wand until he was nine at most. Harry lay down on his bed, his thoughts going over everything he remembered from school. He discovered he remembered almost everything, as if he had died only yesterday. He could still feel what it was like to cast spells, how to ride a broom.

He resolved to read up on a few things, like what had happened since he died, and what exactly happened right after his death. How many of his friends were still alive? What about Ron and Hermione! Harry knew it probably wasn't the best source of information, but he would have to borrow that horrible book again for starters. Right now, though, he felt a bit tired after playing with his friends all day. He needed a nap, and so he fell asleep.

Chapter 2: Growing up

Harry started sneaking books out of the library at every opportunity. He also found a stash of old newspapers, The Daily Prophet even, every issue had something about Voldemort in it, which Harry was a little confused about, but didn't bother pondering over too much. He mostly read up of what he had learned at Hogwarts, to make sure he remembered his schooling. He did finish his biography and one particular paragraph near the ending made his throat clamp shut and his heart turn cold.

Witnesses of He Who Must Not Be Named's defeat at the wand of Draco Malfoy have all described nearly the same scene: Draco Malfoy clutching desperately at the body of his dead lover, howling to the skies at the injustice of it all. Many claim he repeated words like: 'We're supposed to be together now. You promised!' It was truly a sad ending for the Boy Who Lived. His absence was felt throughout the wizarding world. It is important, however, that we remember that our hero did not die in his duel with You Know Who, but protecting his love. In the end that was what he lived for, and this author certainly think that is much better than being the Boy Who Lived To Kill. In my heart, and many others, he shall always be the Boy Who Lived, For Love.

It was therefore with a sense of righteous indignation that most people learned of Draco Malfoy's sudden marriage to Pansy Parkinson (now Malfoy). Harry Potter was barely cold in his grave before the pair moved into Malfoy Manor together. A little over nine months later and their son was born, Cesare Malfoy. Why did Draco-

Harry could read no more. He briefly scanned the newspapers for signs of Draco, but apparently the man had gone into seclusion after the war. Only Pansy made public appearances, and she made them enough for both of them it seemed. Harry resolved to forget about Draco and his former life. He would keep an eye on things, his instincts told him to do so, but he would at least try and live life as a, hopefully, future Quiddith player.

…

"Alex slow down!" his father's voice rang after him as he sprinted down the stairs. He couldn't wait! He was getting a broom today! His first ever broom (in this life) and his father had promised him it would be the very best children's broom. He had seen it once in the shop window. He came to a sudden stop at the bottom of the stairs when his father's voice rang out again.

"Boy! Stop right now!" It was like he was floating for a moment, suspended in time. He was in the kitchen, a muggle kitchen. A big beefy man was pointing at him, while a whale of a boy sniggered at the table.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'll go to my cupboard," Harry whispered fearfully, recoiling when the man reached out to grab him.

"Alex? What are you talking about? Alex?" His father was kneeling in front of him, holding onto his shoulders, looking at him with a concerned frown. Harry blinked, coming back to reality. "What's this about a cupboard?" his father asked, confused.

"I- nothing. I'm sorry for running indoors." Kenneth smiled reassuringly.

"That's fine, son. I just didn't want you running in to your mother. You know how she hates it. Proper wizards aren't supposed to run inside, right?" Harry nodded obediently. "Besides, I think she's in one of her moods because some witch disagreed with her at one of her meetings. But we won't let that spoil your day, okey?" Harry nodded again, more enthusiastic this time. He squealed with joy when his father picked him up. Today he would just be little Alex.

"But Father, I thought I was getting a real broom today?" he asked as his father settled him on the high shoulders.

"Oh, so I'm not good enough for you anymore, am I?" the wizard asked with a mock-pout, making Harry giggle.

"Nope!" Harry declared, then laughed all the way to the drawing room when his father tried to prove how fast he was, despite his earlier shouting at Harry. He did slow down before they entered, whispering to Harry not to tell on him. His mother was waiting on the couch beside a virtual mountain of presents. She did look a little upset, but tried her best to smile at the pair when they entered. Harry was used to all the presents from relatives he would probably never meet. He always remembered to be grateful, however, thinking about his past life. He also couldn't help notice the similarities between his new childhood and Draco's. His lover had been spoilt, but Harry was determined not to forget that aspect of his previous life. This year was special, though, and he only had eyes for one thing.

"Where's my broom?" he asked eagerly as his father put him down. His mother laughed, shaking her head at him.

"I think you should open your other presents first. Then we will have breakfast, then we will see if you father got you a broom."

"But that'll take ages!" Harry cried. He was desperate to get into the air again, even if it was only a few feet off the ground. "Can't I try it a little? Please?" He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Alex," his mother said, giving him a pointed look. "Are you not grateful and eager for all your other presents, that all our loving family and friends have sent you? Perhaps I should just take all the presents away?" Harry was immediately chagrined. Where had his plan to remember his past gone? He bowed his head in shame.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I was just so excited. I am very grateful." His mother smiled at him, and he felt his father put a hand on his shoulder.

"Very good. Well, then dig in!" Harry sat by the pile and went through it meticulously, spending much time on each present. It occurred to him that there was a difference to the Malfoys here. His mother and father were making sure he didn't turn out too spoilt, whereas he doubted Narcissa and Lucius did anything of the sort. By the time he was finished Kenneth was complaining of dying of hunger.

"My little boy is growing up!" his mother proudly declared. "Eight already. Only three more years and you'll be off to school!" Harry grinned at his parents. He already received lessons at home in many subjects. The Norwegian school, almost as big as Hogwarts, but not nearly as many students, was very close to their home in the mountains. He had seen it once when they had gone on a family outing, but only the entrance, as the rest was underground, inside the mountains. That was one thing they shared with the muggles in the country, a love for outings and nature. He couldn't wait to be able to fly his broom over the mountains and lakes.

After breakfast his father finally produced the present Harry had been most looking forward to. His mother and father both stood watching him from the ground as he took off for the first time in his new life. The feeling was the same, even if he couldn't go as high as he wanted. His father's cries of encouragement reached him, along with his mother's shouts to be careful. When he landed he was immediately scooped up into Kenneth's arms, Elisabeth standing close beside him.

"My Little Seeker! You're a natural in the air! Did you see him Lisa? He'll make the Kites straight out of school." Harry beamed at his father and mother, the latter standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Harry always felt like crying in moments like these. It was like his new family was the complete antithesis of the Dursleys. Always affectionate, albeit in private, strict, but not unfair. Harry hugged his dad and kissed him on the cheek too.

"Thank you, Father!"

"You're welcome, son. Thank your mother too. She's the one who gives permission you know," the wizard laughed. Harry grinned at his mother and she winked at him. He leaned down, reaching for her. They hugged while he was still held by his father. Afterwards they all went inside and prepare for the guests who would soon be arriving.

…

Harry yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth since neither of his parents were around. His head was propped up by one arm, but he was almost slumping down on the desk in front of him.

"Mr. Rosén, kindly pay attention," the old tutor snapped from the front of room. He was an odd sort of wizard. He always wore the same old brown suit and carried the same worn-out brown briefcase. He was a bit on the short side, built like a rectangular box you asked Harry. That included his face, which was framed with a brown beard. It seemed to grow around his whole face, except the very top of his head, which was bald. He was quite possibly the most boring person Harry had ever met. It didn't help that he already knew all his lessons, and that included the few spells he was taught with his new wand.

"Now, as I was saying…" Harry tuned out the speech. He couldn't wait to be in his own room so he could practice real spells and read proper books. He had almost gone through every spell he had been taught at Hogwarts already. He still pretended he wasn't more than a bit gifted. He just made sure his parents were proud, which they always were it seemed.

It seemed the wizard tutor was finished, for he slammed the book shut with a thud, causing Harry to jump. He almost swore in English (he hadn't actually learned swear-words in his now native tongue yet), but managed to purse is lips instead.

"That will be all for today, Mr. Rosén," said the tutor. Harry was out of his chair and out the door the next second, ignoring the huffing and exasperate calls from the wizard about what he was suppose to study for next time.

As soon as he was inside his bedroom he cast charms to alert him if anyone came close to his door. He didn't think anybody would be disturbing him. His father was at work and his mother was with her witches from the Guild. The house elves usually stayed in the kitchen until called, and only came out to clean the house during the night.

He concentrated firmly on the library, chanting what felt like an age-old lesson from a different time-line: destination, determination, and deliberation. With a sudden pop and tightness all over he opened his eyes and found himself in the desired place. He grinned and whooped, punching the air.

Deciding to find a new book to read Harry walked over to the books. There were so many he was barely finished with one shelf, his time alone was limited and he couldn't read his father's books when his parents were home. He decided he wanted to peruse the higher shelves. Pulling the ladder over to one side he started climbing, not at all afraid of the height. He reached the top shelves and noticed his father actually had several rare books. He didn't recognize the Norwegian titles, but he did see books that would have been in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts.

One book caught his eye, the title in Norwegian: A Paradox of Prophecies. Harry frowned, something stirring in the back of his mind. There was once a prophecy about him… The one with the power to-… born as the seventh month dies-

"Alex! What are you doing up there!" Harry nearly fell from the ladder he was so startled. He turned and looked down, gulping when he saw the furious face of his father.

"W- What are you doing home?"

"Never you mind that! Come down this instant!" Harry quickly put the book down and scrambled down the ladder. He ducked his head guiltily as he faced his father. He was a little afraid of his father's anger, but it was nothing compared to the fear he had felt in his past life, when Vernon Dursley had shouted at him.

"Now, answer me," his father continued sternly. "What were you doing up there? You know you're not supposed come in here by yourself. Especially not up there. Those are grown-up books."

"I'm sorry, Father. I- I just wanted to climb the ladder." His father sighed. Harry hated lying to his father, but knew he couldn't say he wanted to read the books.

"Alex, if you're so desperate to be up high, use your broom." He paused, to consider a punishment Harry assumed. "Promise me you won't do it again."

"I promise, Father."

"Good, come along then. Let's get up in the air proper." Harry's head snapped up and he stared at his father.

"You- you too?" His father rarely had time to come flying with his son. "Don't you have work?" Kenneth grinned.

"Big accident at the Ministry today. Nobody was hurt, but I won't be getting back into my office any time soon. So come on, I intend to enjoy my time off." Harry smiled and hurried after his father.

Despite their fun afternoon together and Harry's promise not to look at the dangerous books again, his father still put protective charms on the bookshelves. It irritated Harry, but as he lay in bed that night he thought only of the book he had been holding when his father had caught him. Prophecy…neither can live while the other survives… Harry closed his eyes and images from his 'final' moments flickered behind his eyelids. Voldemort and himself, staring at each other… Draco… The Killing Curse…

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide as he suddenly vividly remembered how Draco's curse had been the one to kill Voldemort. Could it be so simple? He knew wizards didn't believe in reincarnation, certainly he had never read anything about past lives being remembered.

He had hated the fact that his life was dictated by a prophecy ever since Dumbledore had told him about it. But he had always thought that if he really wanted he could just ignore it and walk away, leaving Voldemort to his reign of terror, but of course he would never actually do it. Could it be that the prophecy wasn't letting him go? Was Voldemort still out there too?

Harry shuddered when he thought about a small boy, the same age as himself, with the full memories of Voldemort inside him. What about the parents? Would Voldemort kill that family too?

But no- that didn't make sense. If Voldemort was reincarnated he would have had to have died, and that made the whole thing pointless… Why was it important that they kill each other if they were both dead?

Harry concluded that the slimy bastard must have somehow survived the Killing Curse yet again. And that therefore his life's purpose was still unfulfilled. It filled him with dread. Would he never escape it? Would he never find peace?

No! It was impossible. They had taken out the horcruxes! The conundrum frustrated him to no end. He decided that the only thing he could do was keep an eye out for any signs that the Dark Lord was still alive. His scar was now a faded birthmark, but he suspected there was still more connection.

Unfortunately his current position made it very difficult to keep an eye on the British Isles. There was only one thing that would ensure that he got the news quickly:

He would need to attend Hogwarts… again. The thought both thrilled him and filled him with sadness at the thought of leaving his new homeland. He had been looking forward to adolescence without the stares, even felt excitement at the thought of seeing a different school. He would also have been very close to his parents… Hogwarts far pretty far away, even for wizards. But Hogwarts would always hold a place in his heart, and this time he would just be Alex Rosén, pureblood wizard from Norway, a little unusual perhaps, but nothing to gawk at every time he entered a room.

The big question was: Would his parents agree? One thing was for sure: He would need to practice his puppy-dog look.

…

"But what's wrong with attending our school here?" Kenneth demanded at once when Harry had put forth the suggestion. He was standing in front of his parents, both seated on the couch. Harry wasn't sure which argument to use. "Isn't the school of our forbears good enough?"

"Kenneth," his mother interrupted him. "Hogwarts is considered the best in the world-"

"I am perfectly capable of deciding what is best for our son. The school here is more than adequate. You were home-schooled so I don't think you can judge. Besides, if you want to join the Kites you should stay in the country." Harry shifted uncomfortably in front of his father. He did want to be a Quiddith player like him, but he also needed to watch out for a Dark Lord that might not be completely dead…

"The best teams are in Britain, Father. I could learn a lot there and then come home…?"

"I doubt the school-teams there are any better than the ones here. Why are you so eager for Hogwarts, Alex?" his father asked, genuinely bewildered, and a little hurt.

"I want to see the world," Harry tried, unable to find another explanation. "And…" Harry sighed. He couldn't say: I want to see it again…

"What about your lessons? Are you sure you have mastered the language well enough to attend?" Harry almost snorted, thinking that English technically was his first language. His mother answered for him.

"Mr. Tollerud says he is doing very well in all his classes. I'm sure Alex would have no trouble."

"Why do you want to send him away?" his father suddenly demanded. Judging by the fire that immediately ignited in his mother's eyes, Harry knew it had been a bad move on his father's part. When his mother got angry it was best to dive for cover. Harry had always wondered if Lily had had a similar fiery temper.

"I was unfortunate enough to be home-schooled. I was well educated and thankful for that, but despite my pleading I was never allowed to attend school. Pardon me for wanting our son to have the choice!" They were glaring at each other, and Harry was regretting his request immensely. Now he knew what it felt like, despite being practically a grown-up in his mind, what it was like to watch your parents fighting. Perhaps it was because he had never had them before that made him feel so young when it came to them, but whatever it was, he felt afraid and dismayed that he had caused the fight.

"I'm sorry. Please don't fight!" he pleaded. His mother turned her attention to him with a reassuring smile.

"We're not fighting, sweetie, we're having a discussion," came the extremely cliché reply, one Harry had of course never heard and therefore couldn't help the very adult snort that escaped him. His mother raised her eyebrows, and then his father laughed.

"I suppose we can't blame him for being adventurous. He gets that from you," he said, pointing an accusing, but playful finger at his wife. Harry inwardly raised his own eyebrows, wondering how their parentage affected him. He obviously had some traits from his former life, like hair colour and eyes, but he thought he had his current mother's slightly small nose and his father's dimple. Had his personality been affected genetically as well as from the new upbringing? He didn't have time to contemplate it now.

"I know I would miss him terribly," said his mother. "But I think he should be allowed to chose." She wasn't really saying what she thought, but telling his father what was going to happen. Harry couldn't stop his grin when his father sighed. He looked at his son, opening his arms. Harry rushed over and embraced his father. After the hug Kenneth didn't let him go, but looked at him almost worriedly.

"You really want to go to Hogwarts?" he asked. Harry nodded eagerly. His father sighed again, and Harry realised he was worried about more than Quiddith teams. "Fine then. Who am I to stop you?" Harry grinned and hugged his father.

"Oh, thank you!"

"Not me you should be thanking, as usual," his father huffed good-naturedly.

"Thank you, Mother," Harry said at once. Elisabeth smiled at her son. After he had hugged them both several times he ran off to his room. His mother and father watched him go with wistful expressions.

"There are four houses, right?" Kenneth asked. His wife nodded. "Yes, with different traits," he mused aloud. "I wonder which one he'll be in."

"Probably Gryffindor," Elisabeth said.

"Which one's that?"

"Bravery. Our little boy is going so far away. He must be brave."

"Of course he is! He's a Rosén! He gets that from me." The witch shook her head in fond exasperation, but chose not to comment on that one.

Chapter 3: Going to Hogwarts

Harry couldn't believe it! He was going to Hogwarts! There was over a year to wait, but he was still excited.

He managed to break the charms his father had placed on the books fairly easily, as his father didn't think he could break even the weakest spell. He read many Norwegian books, both novels and books he would have had at school. The different perspective it gave him fascinated him. He also read A Paradox of Prophecies through and found it very interesting. It was mostly speculation, but it made him think. Was he truly bound by the prophecy? He couldn't be sure, but the evidence was convincing.

He trained in secret, he read, and he played of course, determined to have at least some fun in his second childhood. He knew the lessons would probably be absolutely boring, but that couldn't he helped. He needed to be prepared if Voldemort found a way to return.

The thing he was looking most forward to was walking the halls of Hogwarts and being just another student. No strange adventures every year. His birthmark would be easily hidden behind his fringe, as it was only visible if you really looked for it. He didn't need glasses this year, and although he did have the green eyes, his face didn't look the same at all. He would be just Alex Rosén.

…

"Alex! Come along!" Harry bounded down the stairs, not caring that his mother would not approve. He was too excited. Luckily though his mother understood and smiled indulgently at him when he entered the drawing room. His father beamed proudly, having come to terms with the fact that his son wanted to go to Hogwarts, and was now pleased his son had been accepted.

"Ready?" Kenneth asked. Harry nodded. He took his father's hand and they stepped into the floo. "Ministry of Magic!" his father called and they were whisked away in green flames. A moment later and they were in the Norwegian Ministry's lobby. Elisabeth followed a moment later and they made their way to the International Portkey Gate, which was under the Department of Magical Transportation. There they would take a portkey to the British Ministry and from there floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was bouncing like the eleven year old he physically was. He couldn't wait to see the places his former self had been so well-acquainted with.

His father had found out everything they would need to know on how to get around in the wizarding places in Britain from the ambassador, an old friend of the family. So it was no problem for the three of them to get inside Diagon Alley. The family all had on expensive robes of the highest fashion in Norway. It was obvious that they were foreigners, but rich ones. Harry had let go of his father's hand at the familiar sight before him. He looked around and noted which shops were still there, and which were new. It was therefore easy to pretend he hadn't been there before and was curious.

"Let's get his schoolbooks first," his mother said, nodding towards Flourish and Blott's. His father agreed and soon Harry wandered off between the rows of books. His mother and father were taking care of the ones for school, but he wondered if there were any books of the final battle that his father didn't have. There might be clues as to why he was, for lack of a better word, reincarnated. Maybe there was something he didn't remember.

Harry stopped short when he spotted a mother and her son looking at schoolbooks. But it wasn't any mother, for although the woman was over a decade older Harry had not forgotten the face. The little boy was Harry's age, with platinum blond hair and eerily familiar grey eyes. He didn't have the sharp features of his father though, and Harry didn't think he would get them when he grew up either.

"Hello, are you a first year?" the boy asked as he spotted Harry looking and came closer, his eyes taking in the robes. His mother followed behind her son, her chin high as she had yet to ascertain the status of her son's newest friend.

"Yes, I'm Alex Rosén."

"Please to meet you, I'm Cesare Malfoy," said the boy, holding out his hand. Harry shook it. He couldn't help glancing up at what must be Pansy Parkinson. It was even harder to keep the glare out of his eyes. Still the boy seemed nice enough. He was smiling, very different from Harry's first encounter with the boy's father.

"Alex? Where are you?" his mother asked in Norwegian as she came round the row of books. Harry turned and answered her in their native tongue.

"Just meeting new friends, Mother." Then in English he said: "Mother, this is Cesare Malfoy." She smiled down at the boy and said hello. He seemed a little shy to Harry as he answered. His mother then addressed Pansy, who had raised her eyebrows at the language.

"And you are his mother, I presume?" she asked in perfect English. "My name is Elisabeth Rosén. My husband is around here also. We are all from Norway, but Alex here has been accepted to Hogwarts." She smiled down at her son and then looked back up at Pansy. Harry noticed Pansy still wasn't sure whether or not they were good enough for her family. Most likely it was their robes that did it. She smiled a fake smile and extended her hand.

"Pansy Malfoy, my husband is not here. He is Lord Malfoy." Harry secretly hoped they wouldn't get along, but unfortunately he could easily imagine the two upper-class ladies having tea together. Hopefully Pansy would start to avoid his mother when she found out about the nature preserving work she did with muggles. He didn't want his family tainted by that witch. Besides, they probably wouldn't see each other often, unless Pansy decided to really make friends. He suppressed a shudder.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Just then his father found them and there was another round of introductions. During this the two boys went mostly unnoticed so they stepped away slightly and took the opportunity to talk.

"So, do you know about the houses at Hogwarts?" Cesare asked politely. Harry promised himself then and there that he would not hold the boys parents against him.

"Yes, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, correct?"

"Yes, exactly. I'm in Slytherin for sure. All my family has been," the boy grinned. They heard Pansy laugh at something his father said. Harry inwardly cursed his father for being so charming. He had been so sure Pansy wouldn't take to his easy going manner, but apparently his father knew just how to act in public and he was not being as boisterous as he could be at home. Just the charming gentlemen. He was a pureblood wizard after all.

"Where's your father?" Harry couldn't help but ask. Something passed over the young boy's expression, but it was gone before Harry could identify it.

"He's at home. He's a busy man," was the answer. Harry could have sworn the boy was lying, but about what he wasn't sure.

"Come along, Alex. We need school robes next." His mother had come over along with Pansy. The boys said their goodbyes and Harry followed his parents, contemplating many things. He had tried to forget Draco, but seeing his son with the hair and eyes had brought it all back. He loved the man, but didn't think he could ever forgive him for running off and marrying that pug-faced bitch practically before he had hit the ground! The betrayal stung, and the three left Diagon early because his mother remarked he was rather pale.

…

"Oh, my little boy is all grown-up!" his mother sniffed, albeit discreetly as she didn't want to cause a scene. His father had an arm around her shoulder as they stood looking down proudly at Harry, who beamed up at them. "Now, you behave yourself, Alex, and don't do anything I wouldn't do." His father snorted at that.

"Herregud, Lisa! That means he'll never have any fun," he said, winking at Harry who giggled at his mother's indignant look.

"Don't you put any ideas in his head!" she said sternly.

"It's too bad you can't take your broom with you, Alex. You would have made the team no question!" Harry smiled at his father. He knew he would miss flying, but there wasn't a chance of getting the special treatment he had as Harry Potter, and mostly he was grateful for that.

"Write often… we'll miss you." His mother bent down and hugged him tightly. Harry almost felt like crying. It wasn't his first time getting on the Hogwarts Express, but it was the first time he had parents to see him off and it was an incredible feeling.

"I promise to write! I'll miss you too!" After hugging his father Harry climbed into the train, one of the last ones to do so. He turned in the door and waved at them enthusiastically. His mother was quick to wipe a tear away, but Harry saw it. His father hugged her more tightly and waved back. The whistle blew and Harry went inside, feeling such a whirlwind of emotions he had to stop and lean against the wall for a moment to catch his breath.

Smiling to himself he made his way towards the end of the train, checking compartments along the way. He stopped when he came to one with a blond boy inside. He slid open the door, making sure to smile at the boy. He had already decided he would make friends with him, even though seeing him made him think of Draco.

"Hi, Cesare, right?" the boy nodded and Harry sat down across from him.

"Hi, Alex… You know you never did tell me which house you were hoping for," Cesare said, studying the other boy curiously. Harry honestly didn't know. He figured it would be Gryffindor, he hadn't changed that much when it came to his personality. He was just more used to love and affection. He feigned ignorance and allowed Cesare to explain the traits of each house. The boy was much more uncertain than he remembered Draco had been in his first year. Harry wondered why. Surely Pansy Parkinson's child would turn out just as nasty as her? Perhaps that was Draco's influence, but Harry thought that unlikely. He forced his thoughts away from Draco before he started frowning.

The pair had been talking for several minutes about Hogwarts when the door slid open again and Harry had to suppress both his shock and amusement. Standing in the door were two boys, completely identical, with red hair and brown eyes. Harry wondered which Weasley sons they were.

"Can we sit in here?" one of them asked. Harry nodded without even looking at Cesare. He wanted to get to know the next generation of Weasleys, the 'new' Weasleys twins. Would they be pranksters like their older versions? Perhaps Fred or George was their father? Harry felt a stab of guilt when he realised he wasn't sure if all of his old friends were alive or not.

"I'm Neville Weasley," the first boy said as the pair sat down, one beside Harry and the other beside Cesare. Harry almost frowned. Which Weasley would name their son after Neville? Surely only Ron was that close to the boy- man now- Merlin, Harry couldn't imagine Ron as a father! But still it seemed a bit odd-

"And I'm Harry." Wait- what? Both Harry and Cesare stared at the twin sitting next to the latter. The redhead smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I know. I'm named after Harry Potter. Real original, right? But our parents actually knew him. Nev is named after Neville Longbottom. They knew him too." Harry felt cold all over suddenly. They knew him. Did that mean-?

"So who are you?" Neville asked, turning to Harry.

"Alex- Alex Rosén." Neville smiled at him and then turned expectantly to Cesare, who looked reluctant to answer, though Harry couldn't understand why.

"Cesare Malfoy," he said. Harry saw the twins exchange a significant glance.

"Your father's Draco Malfoy, then?" Harry Weasley asked a little curtly. Cesare nodded and looked out the window. Another glance was exchanged. "We heard he's a hermit. That he hasn't been out of the house since the war. That he went insane."

"Heard he lost it after defeating You Know Who," Neville finished. The pair already sounded like the older twins. Cesare didn't answer. He continued to look out the window. This only seemed to spur the twins on. "Also heard your mother still holds the Old Views, and that both your parents were marked but that-"

"That's enough," Harry said firmly, interrupting the redhead. Cesare had turned a bit pink, but was now staring at Harry, who glared at the twins. "If you're going to go on about his family and judging him by it then you're no better than the ones who still believe in Blood Status." The boys looked chagrined.

"You sound like Mum," the other Harry grumbled. The twins stared at each other, communicating something silently.

"Alright, we're sorry," Neville said. Cesare narrowed his eyes, the suspiciousness in his eyes very Slytherin.

"We were just curious. Sorry." Harry looked back and forth between the twins and Cesare, wondering if the blond boy would forgive. In the end the young Malfoy shrugged.

"It's ok. But I'm not going to discuss it." The twins nodded their understanding and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The meeting between Weasleys and a Malfoy had gone much better the second time around.

"Who are your parents?" Harry asked, changing the subject. "I was wondering since you said they knew Potter and Longbottom… I'm from Norway so I don't know the story too well… who was Longbottom again?"

"Our parents were at the last battle. Mum's name's 'Mione and Dad's Ron. You must have heard of them? Granger and Weasley? They fought alongside Neville Longbottom, aunt Ginny and Luna Lovegood."

"You know how Longbottom died?" the redheaded Harry asked. Harry shook his head numbly. "Went out with a bang, that's all Dad will say. Says he was practically channelling Gryffindor himself, but Dad won't tell us any details."

"They don't like talking about the war too much," Neville finished. Harry could hardly keep his face blank; his insides were so cold he should have been shivering. So Neville had died. Harry felt a surge of injustice, against whom he wasn't sure, that his friend had probably not been sent back.

Harry again changed the subject. This time to Hogwarts and what awaited them. Apparently house rivalry still existed, and there would also be the occasional student with prejudices or dealings in the Dark Arts, but for the most part the students got along a lot better than before the war ended. The twins hardly bat an eyelash when Cesare said he was looking forward to getting sorted into Slytherin, which considering they were Ron Weasley's sons, was a miracle to Harry, though he knew his best friend had gotten a clue after he had spent some time with Draco. Not all Slytherins were evil, even during the war. Snape was another example. Harry wondered if the git was still teaching. They had worked together, but Snape had never truly gotten over the pensive incident in Harry's fifth year, no matter how many times Harry apologised.

…

"Firs' years! Over 'ere!" Harry's mouth fell open in a shock, quickly morphing into a huge grin when he saw the familiar shape of Hagrid, holding the lantern and beckoning the youngest arrivals. There was a fair amount of grey in his hair and beard, but overall he looked just as healthy as ever. Harry had to restrain himself from going over and hugging the man, his first ever friend. Perhaps he could get to know the half-giant in this life too? Anything seemed possible to Harry in that moment.

The second time Harry sat in the boat as they crossed the lake was like coming home after a seemingly endless journey. He sighed deeply as he spotted the towers through the mist. He chuckled when Cesare jumped as the Squid bumped the underside of the boat. Soon he was once again waiting to be sorted, amazed that Professor McGonagall was still there, looking perhaps only five years older. Did that mean Dumbledore was still Headmaster? Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that for some reason.

He didn't need to pretend to look around with interest when they entered the Great Hall. He looked at everything, noting how much everything was the same, and yet different. The students weren't the same, that was for sure, and there were definitely some new additions to the staff table, but many were still there, most notably Dumbledore, who sat with twinkling eyes, surveying the first years like an old grandfather just itching to tell some old story from his glory days. Snape was there as well, his scowl so recognizable Harry almost laughed out loud. Hagrid, McGonagall and Hooch were there too. Harry didn't recognise the others.

"Alex Rosén," McGonagall called suddenly. Harry hadn't realised the sorting had gone on for so long. He noted Cesare had already been sorted, and was beaming from Slytherin. The Weasley twins were sitting smugly at Gryffindor. Harry quickly stepped up, noting with immense relief and a sense of peace that no one whispered any more than usual this time.

'Well, well, well, Mr. Potter. Haven't we done this once before?' Harry smiled, he knew he wouldn't be able to fool it, but the old hat seemed like a long lost friend too and he knew it wouldn't betray him.

'I have somehow been reincarnated. Nothing goes the way it should with Harry Potter, eh? Not even death.' He could have sworn he heard the hat snort inside his mind.

'Yes, quite right. Hmmm. Interesting. You know I have been sorting for many, many years, and I have never had this opportunity before.'

'Opportunity?'

'Yes, to make up for past mistakes is a rare opportunity indeed. I have the chance to put you where you should have gone the first time around.' Harry thought hard. He really liked Cesare, and knew there was nothing wrong with Slytherin, but he really missed the Tower.

'It's your decision.' This time he was sure he heard the hat snort.

'Why, thank you Mr. Potter. About time you realised that little fact. But no matter, I know you needed Gryffindor last time, but now the fun begins! In-

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harry grinned as he hopped down from the stool and hurried over to Cesare. He shook many hands and was greeted just like every other student. The two friends greeted their year-mates as they were sorted. There weren't many names Harry recognised, though he remembered a few as children of Slytherins who had been above him in years the last time around. The son of Marcus Flint was the spitting imaged of his father. There was also Pucey, Harry vaguely remembered a chaser a few years above him, and Bole, who Harry thought would make a perfect beater in the years to come.

Dumbledore made his usual confusing speech, but Harry felt nothing when he gazed at the old Headmaster. His instincts were telling him that there was something not right, as if he had expected Dumbledore to know who he really was, and that those eyes should be twinkling at him every so often. But they didn't, and Dumbledore didn't look at him more than any other student. It was both comforting and a little sad.

He followed the Prefect down the stairs to the dungeons. The common room underneath the lake was much like he remembered from his 'first' second year, though it felt more inviting this time when he had a right to be there. The first year boys found their dormitory and Harry said goodnight to his new friend. Cesare looked a little scared, but Harry supposed it was daunting for an eleven year old to sleep away from your parents. At that moment he realised he already missed his parents. He may not have been their little boy mentally, but they were still his, just as much as Lily and James had been. He smiled reassuringly at Cesare, silently communicating that he knew how the boy felt, and then got into bed. He missed his bed at home too, but tried to focus on what he had to do. He needed to be here if Voldemort ever returned… again.

When he finally fell asleep he dreamed of mountains and caves filled with dragons. He saw gnomes hiding behind bushes as he chased them. Alex laughed delightedly when he finally caught one, but it was too strong for him and he didn't manage to throw it. He took to the air and flew high above the white peaks, looking down and marvelling at the beauty of the turquoise water that had melted from the ice. Then the scene changed, and became a dream within a dream. A tall dark figure, made only of a wisp of smoke, was moving upwards, walking, no floating, swiftly between the threes. It reached the large building and knew that inside lay its quarry. Inside lay the red-hot life that would once again pump through veins that made it alive. Inside lay the enemy…

Chapter 4: Remember the Remembrall?

Harry and Cesare quickly became friends, the act of being eleven made easier by the fact that Cesare was mature for his age. The Weasley twins, Neville and Harold, as Harry later found out, became their rivals, for lack of a better word. Harry suspected Hermione had given her son the name Harold instead of just Harry so she could revert back to that when she was really angry.

The rivalry wasn't anything like that between Harry and Draco Malfoy during their earlier years. They hung out together and acted like friends most of the time, but they quickly developed a need to out-prank each other that Harry was certain would have made the older Weasley twins proud. They also teased each other and Harry enjoyed every moment at Hogwarts with his new friends immensely. He barely had time to think of Voldemort or Draco, too busy coming up with new pranks during class instead of listening.

One class that still managed to hold his attention was Potions. The first class, predictably a double with the Gryffindors on Friday, was very different from the last time he had been a first year, attending his first ever potions class.

"Silence," Snape said quietly, but firmly as he swept into the room, instantly rewarded with the absolute silence of the class. Harry tried not to smirk, thinking that there was one student Snape would never intimidate this year. As he looked the Potions Master over he saw there was a little grey in the ink black hair, which would be considered premature greying for a wizard. Harry frowned at it; he knew it must have been the stress of the war that had done it.

As Snape surveyed the room his eyes came to land on Cesare and then glided over to Harry, whose breath hitched. Those deep black eyes seemed to bore right through him, as always, and he thought for one hysteric moment that Snape would call him out, but the man turned and addressed the class, the speech familiar and far from forgotten even after all these years.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said, eyes continuously scanning the room almost as quickly as Mad-Eye's magical eye. As he spoke, reciting what Harry realized now was an age-old speech the man must say every year, those black eyes settled on him once again.

"Mr. Rosén," he said, voice barely above a whisper, but carrying easily in the dungeons. "Come down here all the way from Norway to attend Hogwarts. Do you believe you have what it takes to make it here, to make Slytherin proud?" Harry kept the man's gaze; his voice was steady and full of conviction when he answered.

"Yes, sir."

"Then tell me, Mr. Rosén, what would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry almost laughed, almost, but by some miraculous gift from Merlin himself he managed to keep his face blank.

"You would have the makings of the Draught of Living Death, Sir, but you would also need to add valerian roots and sopophorous beans." The class seemed to hold its collective breath as Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"Correct, Mr. Rosén. Ten points to Slytherin." Harry gave in to his urge and threw a smug smirk at Cesare, who returned it, for the first time looking somewhat like his father. Snape ignored the exchange. "Tell me, have you had any instruction in potion-making before?"

"Yes, sir, every wizarding family at home arranges for lessons well before school begins. I requested lessons in potion-making, sir," Harry lied. To his utter astonishment Snape seemed pleased by this news, and actually quirked his lip slightly. He studied Harry for another moment and then turned back to the class and began his lesson.

…

Harry quickly became the teacher's pet, much to his horror and amusement. Snape was always gliding over to Harry and Cesare's table and asking question just so he could give points to Slytherin. Snape would give him extra work if he asked, which he actually needed since he finished way before everybody else and needed something to do.

The prank war with the Weasleys was great fun. It was for this reason Harry snuck out of the dungeons one night the first week back and found his way to the Room of Requirement. Pacing back and forth three times he found himself in the room where he once hid a certain potions book. Harry had later hidden other things in the same room. Things he felt belonged at Hogwarts. He quickly found the hiding place, deciding to leave the Half-Blood Prince's book for now, and grabbed an old piece of parchment that would be very useful in prank-pulling. Harry had, in his previous life, imagined himself passing the map on to the next generation of prankers. He laughed out loud when he realised he was the next generation. Could his life get any stranger?

It was breakfast about a week later. Harry was sitting in his usual seat beside Cesare. They were both watching the Gryffindor table, trying not to snicker too loudly. Harry had been to the kitchens on his way up from the common room, and Dobby had taken to him quickly. Harry wondered if the elf magic somehow sensed who he really was. If it did, Dobby didn't say anything. He did agree to do Harry a favour, however, provided it was all in good fun.

"Any second now…" Harry whispered as he leaned towards Cesare. There was a loud bang suddenly and smoke where two redheads had been sitting. It was Slytherin green, and the students around the twins started coughing and scrambling out of their seats to get away. McGonagall was quick as a cat, and waved her wand when she reached the cloud of smoke. It dissipated and the twins were revealed: Their hair had turned the same colour as the cloud, and had been shaped into two devil horns on each. They also had a green tail and hooves for feet. Harry thought they really looked the part now.

The twins stared at each other, then started to chuckle, quickly escalating into guffaws and back slaps. Harry saw one of them discreetly sending a thumbs-up in their direction.

The whole Hall, including the other Gryffindors, burst into laughter. Even Dumbledore emitted a few chuckles. McGonagall, however, was fuming. She waved her waved, muttering 'finite incantatem,' but nothing happened.

"Quiet!" she cried. Some of the students in her house fell silent, but not all. "Professor Snape!" The Potions Master rose from his seat at the staff table, barely suppressing his smirk, and joined the Head of Gryffindor.

"Yes?" he asked innocently. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Problem! It was obviously a potion, and an advanced one at that since it resisted my spell. One of your upper years I expect," the witch snapped.

"Really? You are sure they did not to this to themselves. It does seem to fit with their… style."

"Really, Severus! You very well know the effects of a potion if you see it! Now, please, punish the Slytherin who did it and make the antidote! I will not have a pair of Gryffindors walking around looking like this!" The twins were still laughing with the rest of the Hall. One of them used his new tail and grabbed a piece of toast from the table. He threw it up in the air and caught it with his teeth. The students clapped. McGonagall looked livid.

"I am afraid that without proof I cannot punish anyone." Harry was sure he saw Snape's eyes flicker towards him almost imperceptibly. The man was looking far too smug for McGonagall's comfort. "I do know the antidote, however, and will administer it tonight after I have brewed it." He turned from the red-faced witch to the to greenheaded twins. "You will have to remain like that until further notice I'm afraid."

"That's alright, Professor. We deserve it after letting out guard down!" Neville grinned, swishing his tail when the boy sitting next to him tried to touch it. Harold was examining his horns with his hands.

"Could have done without the green, though," he grumbled good-naturedly. Snape smirked, ignoring the still protesting McGonagall and swept down the table towards the students entrance to the Hall. As he passed the Slytherin table, where Harry and Cesare were sitting at the end of it, he muttered under his breath: "Ten points to Slytherin." Harry never thought he'd see the day when Snape's favouring of Slytherin would make him smirk triumphantly.

…

Harry tried not to use his superior knowledge and skill when planning and executing pranks on the Weasley twins, but he soon discovered how hard it was to resist. He was a Slytherin after all.

Still the twins were resourceful for first years, and Harry suspected they had enlisted the help of the older twins because many of their paybacks smelled suspiciously of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Harry didn't begrudge them this, though; it only made the game more exciting.

Cesare was shyer than Draco had ever been, and didn't like to talk about his home life. He received lots of sweets from his mother, like Draco had been sent from Narcissa, and the young Malfoy readily shared the treats with everyone, Gryffindors included. Harry quickly became a sort of older brother, protecting Cesare from the worst of the pranks, and making sure a student got hexed good if they so much as whispered the words 'hermit', 'insane, or 'still marked' within ear shot. Cesare seemed eternally grateful for the hexes, although he did ask Harry to teach them to him so he could eventually try doing it himself.

The payback for the green-devil potion came in the form of red bed sheets. Harry actually screamed when he woke up in a sea of red instead of green, the lions embroidered actually roaring every time someone tried to turn them back. The other boys, not fighting in the prank-war, were not amused. Harry and Cesare spent the whole day trying to figure out how the twins had done it. Harry concluded they had to have gotten help from Fred and George.

They retaliated with one of Harry's own inventions: A potions that made everything the twins touched get covered in green goo, disgustingly similar to snot. No one wanted to go near them for a week, and Snape wouldn't even let them into the classroom.

The twins could hardly grip their wands because every time they did the goo would appear and make it slippery. In the end they had to wait for the potion to work itself out of their systems.

The twins in return managed to get Cesare to eat a sweet of some kind, probably from their older versions collection. Harry wasn't as amused as last time. He didn't know how they tricked his Slytherin friend, the boy wouldn't say. Cesare's arms had turned into something resembling squid tentacles with snake scales instead of skin. The boy was near tears from all the laughing when he finally found Harry in the dungeons. Harry quickly cast finite incantatem, thanking Merlin when pale arms appeared again. He didn't notice Snape raising his eyebrows at the advanced spell. He quickly took Cesare back to their dorm and proceeded to plot devious pranks, glad when Cesare's spirits seemed to lift quickly.

By the next day four students were in the hospital wing from Harry's hexes and Slytherin had lost so many points that Snape actually looked at him pointedly. Luckily students took the hint this time, and didn't make fun of Cesare anymore, about his tentacles or other issues.

It was due to the prank on Cesare Harry decided to test if one or both of the twins had inherited the fear of spiders from their father.

It turned out Harold had a slight fear of spiders. Nothing remotely close to Ron's fear, but he still shrieked and started jumping up and down, spitting and sputtering on everything near him when a spider suddenly crawled out of his mouth after he had drunk from his goblet. Neville managed to levitate it away, crushing it with his fist and glaring across the table at Slytherin. Harry narrowed his eyes in return, while Cesare looked down at his lap.

…

"I can't wait to fly! Even if it is only in a lesson. Do you have a broom at home, Alex?" Cesare asked as they ate breakfast.

"Yes, I have a Fossekall, Norwegian make with child restrictions on it. It's perfect for long dives. I did a Wronski Feint on it once… though it wasn't that high and my Father caught me doing it and wasn't happy." Cesare gaped at him, his toast half-way to his mouth.

"Really? You must be really good then." Harry shrugged.

"My Father played for the Karasjok Kites when he was younger." Cesare was in danger of catching flies soon if he didn't shut his mouth.

"Wow! That's amazing. What position?"

"Keeper. But I'm hoping to be a Seeker." Cesare looked pensive for a moment than nodded his dead decisively.

"You'll be a great Seeker," he stated. Harry smiled at the compliment.

"Thanks. Do you fly?"

"Oh… well, I haven't actually flown before. My mother doesn't care about Quiddith and father… well, he doesn't like to talk about it anymore, even though I know he played when he was at school. He was a Seeker." Harry frowned. He didn't like the things he had been hearing about Draco Malfoy. At first he thought the rumours the twins had asked about on the train were just rumours, but every time the subject of family would come up Cesare closed up.

Maybe Draco really was staying home all the time? Why would he do that? Wasn't he happy with Pansy? Harry couldn't understand why the confident Slytherin who had loved to hold court while at school would suddenly abstain from anything remotely public. Had something happened to the Defeater of Voldemort? Harry couldn't possibly imagine it had anything to do with the last battle. Draco had run off with Pansy at the first opportunity! Something must have happened at a later date.

"Oh." Harry turned his attention back to Cesare, who had made a soft sound when he opened the newest package from a Malfoy Eagle owl. It was not sweets this time. "It's from Father," the boy said softly, his cheeks going slightly pink. Harry looked at the small device in Cesare's hands. It was shaped like a gyroscope, but Harry recognised it as a Sneakoscope, made to warn somebody against enemies. Harry had once gotten one for his birthday from Ron.

"Bit paranoid to be giving a first year a sneakoscope?" one of the older Slytherins muttered. Harry sent him a scratching glare and the boy fell silent. Nobody had anything to say when Harry's jade eyes pieced them.

"That was nice of him," Harry said to Cesare. "Let's go outside. The lesson is about to start."

…

"Right! Nobody move or even touch your brooms until I come back!" declared Madam Hooch when she was suddenly called away before the lesson could start. Harry had a sense of déjà vu, but no one was injured this time, thank Merlin.

"Oi! Malfoy!" Neville shouted as he came over with his twin. They hadn't retaliated since the spider incident and Harry was a bit wary of them. He didn't know how bad they would react. From the sound of it things didn't look good. Cesare shrank back slightly, though he was trying to keep his ground. He inched closer to Harry, who kept his eyes narrowed at the Weasleys.

"Hi, Nev, Harry. Looking forward to flying?" Cesare asked, trying to Slytherin his way out of a confrontation by acting as if nothing was amiss.

"Oh, yeah. We've both flown since we were one year old!" Harold declared smugly. Harry barely resisted rolling his eyes.

"Listen, can we look at that Sneakoscope? I've never seen one close up," Neville asked casually. Cesare glanced briefly in Harry's direction, but the tone was friendly and the boy obviously didn't want to upset things more by refusing. He pulled the device out of his pocket and handed it over. Harold grinned, his eyes glinting.

"Perfect," Neville said as he studied it.

"Can I have it back, please. It was a gift from my Father." But the twins weren't listening. Neville had pulled out a piece of string and tied it to one of the wheels. Harold produced what Harry quickly realised was a Weasley firework. Harry drew his wand even as they tired the device to the firework.

"Give it back," Harry said with clear warning in his voice. Neville smirked even as he held up the firework. Harold had his wand pointed at it, ready to set it off.

"The magic in the sneakoscope will make the explosion brilliant! Come on, Ces, don't you want to see it?"

"I'd rather have my Father's gift back!" Cesare shouted, drawing his own wand. By the time it was pointed at Harold, however, the boy had muttered a word and the firework had whooshed out of Neville's hand.

Harry didn't think at all, he acted automatically. His hand flew out, the broom lying a few feet away slapped into his hand. A second later he had mounted it and was in the air at full speed. He didn't hear the twins' laughter, or see their sudden shocked faces as Harry raced after the firework.

Harry didn't have time to contemplate the newest irony in his life as he flew at break-neck speed towards the firework. In the back of his mind he briefly remembered a Remembrall. He tilted his broom up and to the side, coming around in a fine arch and directing his wand, anticipating the firework's movement. He shot water out of his wand like an arrow and hit his intended target dead on. The firework extinguished, stopped and fell towards the earth. Harry dived immediately after it.

The wind flew past him as he neared the ground. He felt the broom underneath vibrate slightly. It had been old the first time Harry had come to Hogwarts, and now it wasn't fit for dives of this magnitude. He held it steady with a firm and confident grip, however, and reached for the firework. His fingers closed around it, his eyes briefly scanning it and making sure the sneakoscope was still attached. He pulled out of the dive just in time and steered towards the group of students, all whooping and punching the air. The twins were gaping and Cesare was grinning from ear to ear.

Harry landed gracefully and slid off the broom. He unfastened the sneakoscope and handed it back to Cesare.

"Thank you, Alex! That was brilliant! Thank you so much!"

"Yeah, it was brilliant," Neville said. Harold nodded fervently. Harry glared at them and they both blushed in shame, looking down. Before they could make apologises a voice interrupted them, causing the cheering students to part like the sea before Moses. Snape was far from a holy man, though.

"Mr. Rosén, come with me." Harry's head was spinning with the déjà vu experiences. He doubted very much he would get out of this one with a position as seeker. He would probably get expelled. Snape wasn't as forgiving as McGonagall, even towards his own students. But maybe he would go easy since he seemed to like Alex?

He hardly noticed where Snape was leading him. He kept his eyes down and only saw the billowing of Snape's robe. They stopped once and Harry heard Snape speaking, but he didn't look up yet.

"Minerva, would you come with me please? The matter is urgent." Harry heard some huffing and instructions being given, then the group started walking again. He realised he was walking up to Dumbledore's office.

"Severus, Minerva, and Mr. Rosén is it not?" Harry finally looked up and greeted Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk. Up close he looked older than Harry had realised. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Headmaster, I request permission for Mr. Rosén to be allowed to take the position of seeker on my house team." Harry blinked and gaped up at Snape, who stood by his side looking smugly at Dumbledore. His expression didn't change when McGonagall immediately protested.

"First years are not allowed to be on the house teams, Severus. What makes Mr. Rosén special?"

"I assure you, Minerva, that Mr. Rosén has the skill required."

"Humph! You must really be desperate," the Head of Gryffindor grumbled. "Headmaster, you cannot allow this," she said louder, when Snape only smirked at her knowingly.

"If you could have Potter as a first year, I demand the right to have Mr. Rosén on the Slytherin team." Harry bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing hysterically. Dumbledore fixed him with a kind gaze.

"What do you want, Mr. Rosén?" He had taken Harry's expression for uncertainty.

"I would be honoured to play for Slytherin, sir. My Father was a Quiddith player in his younger days. I want to make him and Slytherin proud." He looked up at Snape at the last bit and was shocked once again when Snape smiled down at him kindly. He had never seen the expression on the dour Potions Master. It made him look years younger, though still a greasy git.

"Very well. I think, under the circumstances Minerva, that Mr. Rosén be allowed to play seeker. I am, as Severus so often insists, trying to be fair." McGonagall bristled, but didn't say anything, knowing deep down thanks to her Gryffindor sense of right, that she shouldn't protest. She nodded curtly and left without another word. Snape placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and led him out, asking as they walked:

"How much do you know about Quiddith, Alex?"

Chapter 5: A Phoenix' Call

He turned his thoughts away from the building and the enemy within and focused on his current position: The forest. How come it was always a forest?

He was getting stronger by the day now. He would soon be ready to contact one of his faithful followers. For now he would bide his time… imagining, fantasising about the blood flowing into a large cauldron… bringing life to him. And then… he would kill his enemy, slowly.

He floated through the trees, picturing himself entering the bedchambers of his enemy, armed with his old wand, if it was still whole, and oh, how he longed to be able to slash the throat of his enemy, watch the blood flow, but he couldn't. He needed his servant… soon.

Harry woke up sweating and panting, the heel of his palm pressed against his birthmark. It didn't hurt, but Harry could feel a strange tingling he did not like at all. In his mind he fumbled to grasp the dream, but it slipped through his fingers, and he couldn't remember. Sighing, he got up and went to the bathroom, very glad that he had learned silencing charms well over a decade ago.

After the fireworks incident Neville and Harold apologised profusely, and Harry eventually forgave them, though he wasn't as quick to forgive as Cesare. By unspoken agreement the four toned down their pranks. Harry made sure not to use too much of his skills, and the twins didn't employ the help of the older twins.

The Slytherin Quiddith team was ecstatic with Harry's skills, and he flew better than ever before once he wrote his parents and asked them to send him his broom. Kenneth was bursting with pride and sent a brand new broom instead.

Harry was top of the class, something he really couldn't help. He won the first match against Gryffindor, only narrowly missing the record for the fastest snitch catch at the school by half a minute. Since he had originally made the record he wasn't too disappointed.

Halloween was rapidly approaching, and on the day Harry felt himself becoming pensive. Something always happened on Halloween, but then again, nothing special had happened at home. The day usually passed without incident, even more so in Norway since celebrating Halloween wasn't as common among the muggles there. The Rosén family still celebrated of course. Being at Hogwarts, however, made old feelings return.

Thinking about his 'first' parents made him sad. Perhaps it was because he himself had died, and technically had a death-day, that he decided to leave the feast early. He excused himself, not noticing the frown that appeared on Cesare's face, and left. He wasn't looking where he was going, and therefore started when he heard a voice. He looked up and saw the doors leading outside were slightly ajar.

"Too cold outside now 'grumble, grumble' have to live inside with pesky humans. Oh, I am an unfortunate snake." Harry couldn't help but snicker slightly when he saw the snake slither inside. It sounded so put out. The snake was a pale green, rather pretty, and small. Harry walked over to it. The snake lifted his head and looked up at Harry, the little eyes looking accusingly at the human who dared to get in its way.

"Hello there," Harry said brightly to the snake. It narrowed its eyes at him.

"Humph, little human thinks just because he can talk means I want to talk to it," the little snake said indignantly. Harry, while a little insulted at being called an 'it', decided to ignore the comment altogether.

"If you looking for someplace warm I suggest the Gryffindor Tower. Just follow any student with red on their robes."

"Humph, it thinks it can tell Dusa were to go? Pesky humans, better when they don't talk… for someone who can speak, though, this one seems even stupider than most."

"Hey!" Harry cried even as the snake slithered quickly past him and up the steps, looking like it knew exactly where it was going. A snicker made Harry spin around and come face to face with a giggling Malfoy. Cesare had a hand over his mouth.

"I wonder if it's an insult to Slytherin if a snake calls you stupid," he said, snickering into his hand. Harry narrowed his eyes at him, only making him giggle loudly, then Harry's eyes went very wide.

"Wait- how…?" Cesare stopped laughing abruptly, looking like a dear caught in the headlights.

"Eh… well, I- …" He looked around as if searching for escape.

"You're a parseltongue?" Harry asked. Grey eyes stared into green. Harry saw nervousness and fear in them. "It's ok. I am too. Well, of course I am. You did just hear me talking to a snake, didn't you? And you understood?"

"Eh, yeah," Cesare sighed. "But don't tell anyone!" he pleaded. Harry frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because Mother doesn't like me using it. She hates it! She even told me not to tell Father about it. She put a spell on me so I couldn't tell," Cesare whispered frantically. "Parseltongues are Dark Wizards." Harry scoffed.

"I'm not dark, am I?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. Cesare shook his head. Harry's mind was full of speculation. Why did the son of Draco and Pansy Malfoy have parseltongue ability? Slytherin hadn't been the only parseltongue of course, but the most famous. Maybe the Parkinsons had the ability? But could it skip generations? Harry was pretty sure neither Pansy nor Draco could talk to snakes. Where on earth had Cesare gotten it from, and why did his own mother, who Harry thought was rather dark, forbid Cesare telling anyone?

"Why did you leave the feast early? You seem to down today," Cesare asked, changing the subject. Just as Harry was about to answer he heard a trilling sounding strangely familiar. It was soft and seemed to come from the stairs.

"Do you hear that?" Harry asked, cocking his head and listening hard. It sounded almost like music, soothing music that seemed to beckon to him.

"Hear what?" Harry vaguely heard Cesare asked. He had moved towards the stairs without noticing.

"The song… it's a bird's song… or-…" Harry turned back to Cesare, who was looking at him like people in his second year as Harry Potter had looked at him, just when he had talked to a snake. "You don't hear it?"

"No," Cesare shook his head. "Are you sure you're alright?" Harry nodded absently, turning back to the stairs. The song was calling to him, urging him to follow it. It was beautiful.

"Listen…" he paused, but Cesare made no sound to indicate he heard. "You go down to Slytherin. I'll be there in a moment… I just need… to get something." He was already walking up the stairs by the time he finished. He dimly heard Cesare calling after him, but the words faded before they reached his mind.

He followed the call, going up stairs and down stairs. He walked down long corridors he had never seen before. Things at Hogwarts tended to move around, but Harry had still thought he knew most of its secrets. He was proven wrong now, though, because he had never been so far away from the more frequented rooms. The corridors here where full of dust from what looked like centuries ago. The torches seemed to have trouble lighting themselves due to years of disuse, but they coughed and sputtered a bit, and then burned bright.

The call was louder now and Harry sped up, finally reaching an old classroom door. He pushed it open and gaped at the sight. Fawkes was perched atop a high and eerily familiar mirror, its magic call going only to Harry's ears. Something silvery was bundled up in its talons. Harry stepped carefully inside, afraid to make a noise to disrupt the mesmerizing song. The moment the door closed behind him the song ended. Fawkes looked at him expectantly, and Harry knew the phoenix wanted him to look in the mirror.

Taking a deep breath Harry walked slowly towards the Mirror of Erised. He gasped when he stood in front of it.

He saw himself, but much older, about as old as Harry Potter had been when he died. He was smiling and sometimes sending glances at the man beside him - Draco. The blond Slytherin looked as young as Harry remembered, probably because he could never imagine Draco older. In front of them, with a hand from each resting on his little shoulders, stood Cesare, smiling out at Harry and sometimes looking up at the two men, giggling when Draco winked down at him.

What did this mean? Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he stared hard at the mirror. He didn't understand. It was a stupid image. Draco was with Pansy! He had married her and had made a baby probably during his own funeral! Harry blinked away the frustrated tears that threatened to spill. He glared up at Fawkes, who just trilled.

The phoenix took off, and as it flew once around the room it dropped what it had been holding. Harry caught it as the bird settled once more on top of the mirror. He held it up and it unfolded, the silvery smooth fabric familiar between his fingers. His 'first' father's cloak. Harry stared at it, his mouth slightly open. Several moments passed in silence.

"But- … how?" he asked as he looked up at Fawkes for an explanation. "Why do you have it?" Fawkes trilled, sounding agitated. Something in Harry's mind clicked. "Dumbledore had it?" Fawkes nodded. "But that's impossible!" Harry cried angrily. "He wasn't supposed to take it! I left everything to Draco!" Fawkes made an impatient sound, obviously not liking being a vent to the boy's anger. Harry sighed. "Thank you for bringing it to me." Fawkes trilled once in acknowledgement. Harry sat down on the floor, fingering the fabric, thinking hard.

"I left my last will and testament with Dumbledore…" he mused aloud. Fawkes didn't make a sound, but waited patiently for Harry to work it out. "But if he had made it public he would have to have given this to Draco, unless… unless Draco didn't want it-" He was interrupted by the angry trilling from Fawkes. He glanced up at her. "Ok. So Dumbledore didn't tell anybody about the will… why?" No one answered him. Fawkes' gaze pieced him. He knew the answer…

"Dumbledore hid it because... I left everything to Draco, but if everybody thought I didn't have a will, and I have no heir, then everything would revert back to my parents… but I don't have any, so that means Dumbledore as my magical guardian before I turned seventeen would have gotten control… and Grimmauld Place!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "Is he still using it?" he asked Fawkes, who nodded. "I sighed over its use to the Order during the war. Without the will it would still be in his control and only the proper Black heir or Harry Potter can claim it back. Fawkes… do Goblins recognise magical signatures? Is mine still recognisable as Harry Potter?" Yes, it must be so, Harry realised, because Fawkes had obviously known who he really was. But it didn't matter if the goblins could see it too, because he was still a eleven-year-old boy. Did he even want to reclaim Grimmauld Place? It would be a good base if he ever needed to fight Voldemort again.

And what about the will? Was Dumbledore really so petty that he wanted Harry's vaults all for himself? His instincts had been right. There was something going on. And Dumbledore was still using Grimmauld Place, did that mean he suspected Voldemort wasn't dead?

Harry was positive Voldemort was somehow alive… somewhere… as a spirit like before, or as a boy his age, he didn't know, but he was out there, and Harry suspected that things would move a lot quicker this time around.

"I think I may need to cut my childhood short… again," he whispered softly. If Voldemort did return sooner than last time Harry couldn't be stuck as an eleven-year-old. He needed to brew an aging potion just in case. So that if the slightest hint of Voldemort reached him he could become of age and reclaim Grimmauld Place and everything in his vaults.

For now he didn't need either, nor was he keen to skip over these precious years given him. He was having too much fun with Cesare and the Weasley twins. But how old to become? Harry didn't want to age too much. He decided that twenty was a nice round number. A bit older than when he died, but not so old as if he had never died at all.

Then there was the brewing. The more you wanted to age the longer it took to brew the potion… nine years was going to take a while. Harry was much better at potion making than he had been at school the first time, but he would prefer if a Master helped him… and there was only one Master he knew he could trust... Snape.

But if he asked Snape the man would demand answers, reasons, and that was not a conversation Harry was looking forward too, but it needed to be done.

Having made all his decisions, and a promise that, while Draco obviously didn't need Harry Potter's vaults, Dumbledore would still pay for his deceit, Harry stood up and smiled up at Fawkes.

"Thank you, Fawkes," he said and got a nice sound in reply. "Does this mean you don't trust Dumbledore either?" The bird cocked its head as if to say: 'Have you been here during your one-sided conversation at all?' Harry smiled sheepishly and thanked the bird again just before it disappeared in a burst of flames.

…

Harry walked nervously to Snape's office door, his wand in his hand. He had tried to go over the meeting in his head, but it just wasn't his style. Hermione was the one who could plan everything. When it came to confrontations; Harry liked to dive right in. He steeled himself and knocked decisively on the door, sealing his doom.

"Enter." Harry opened the door. Before he had even seen the inside he had cast the charm. It went unnoticed. Snape was reading a paper at his desk. The moment the Potions Master looked up and saw Harry he smiled. "Mr. Rosén, please come in." Harry wondered how long it would take Snape to revert back to Gryffindor-hating snarky git. He sat down when Snape gestured him into a seat. "What can I do for you today?" Harry swallowed hard, unable to keep the man's gaze.

"Sir, I need your help to brew a potion." Harry had no idea if that was the way to approach the subject, but he didn't think he could just blurt it out. Snape looked interested and intrigued.

"And what potion is that? Surely not one we have brewed in class. You don't seem to be having any trouble there." Harry detected the hint of pride in the man's voice and resisted the urge to cringe in shame.

"An aging potion." Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Why would you need an aging potion?"

"Just in case," Harry fumbled with the words. Merlin, this was pathetic. He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"In case what? And how old to you intend to make yourself? Or is it for a friend?"

"I need it to become a twenty-year-old… in the event of Voldemort's return. Sir," Harry started speaking more rapidly. By the look on Snape's face he had very little time left. "Sir, I'm Harry Potter. I somehow survived the final battle and found myself as a four-year-old Alex Rosén. I think it's because Draco cast the Killing Curse and therefore the prophecy was never fulfilled, although I don't see how a prophecy can change things like that. He must have survived somehow. I need-"

"Get out," Snape interrupted him, having finally come over his shock. He was glaring as hard as he used to glare at Potter, but Harry knew the man didn't believe him. "I do not know if this story of yours passes for humour in your country, but I do not find it amusing. Now. Get. Out."

"But sir, I can prove it! Ask me anything! Ask me something only you and Harry Potter would know!" Snape rose from his chair, moving quickly around the desk, and grabbed Harry hard by the arm, hoisting up. Harry struggled as he was dragged towards the door. He dug his heels against the stone. "Sir, I remember everything! I remember in first year when you asked me the exact same question you asked me this time! Only that time I couldn't answer. I remember in third year when you followed us to the Shrieking Shack and we knocked you unconscious! Please, sir. Legilimency! Use it to see! I remember the pensive with James Potter and-"

"Silence!" Snape hissed. Letting go abruptly as if he had been burned. "Legilimens!" The onslaught was so sudden that for a moment Harry put up his shields automatically, but then he realised what he was doing and let Snape inside his mind.

Snape towering over him in class - Snape pointing his wand at him during his Occlumency lessons… Harry standing in the pensive, horror-struck as he watched the cruelty of his father… Harry clutching Draco to his chest, praying that his love would be alright. Alex moved to tears with the presents on his first birthday after the memories had returned. Harry seeing Pansy in the bookstore - his insides burning.

"Enough," Harry panted, pushing Snape out. The man staggered back slightly. Harry had never seen him so shocked. He was practically gaping.

"Potter," he said flatly, as if he still wasn't sure. Harry shrugged.

"In the flesh." Snape drew himself up to his full height.

"We must go to the Headmaster."

"What?" Snape didn't reply, but grabbed Harry's arm again, his grip even tighter. "No, I can't tell him. I won't." Snape glared down at him.

"Are you going to do it all yourself, Potter? Playing martyr last time wasn't enough? You had to come back and be the hero as well?" Harry glared right back, the expression strange on the young face.

"I didn't come back. I wasn't given a choice!"

"Of course! If you had you would have been happy to leave everybody behind to clean up the mess you left!" Harry wrenched his arm out of Snape's hand. It was probably already bruising. Snape glared down at him. For some reason Harry knew Snape was talking about Draco. The two had been close…

"I won't tell the Headmaster because I don't trust him. He kept my last will and testament hidden! I left everything to Draco except a few objects that Ron and Hermione were suppose to have! And you won't tell him either."

"Are you threatening me, Potter?" Snape's voice was colder than Harry had ever heard it. Merlin, the man was angry. His usually pale face was flushed.

"I am stating a fact. I placed a charm on you when I entered. If you open your mouth to inform anyone of what you know you will forget this conversation ever took place." If possible, Snape became even angrier.

"How dare you!" he hissed, leaning down slightly to make sure he got his point across. "Insufferable Gryffindor, you will pay for this." Harry held the man's gaze. He knew that magic and skill-wise he was the more powerful. He may be stuck in an eleven-year-old body, but he had the experience of many battles.

"I'm a Slytherin now. The hat was very pleased to put me where it thought I belonged all along… I assume you're not going to help me then?" he asked casually. Snape righted himself.

"Out," he said and turned away from Harry, who sighed. That had gone wrong in so many ways. He left without a backwards glance.

…

The next morning Harry was feeling tired. He hadn't slept that night, being plagued by nightmares he couldn't remember properly. Cesare noticed his mood, but seemed to be too excited by something to say anything. He was almost bouncing in his seat and kept glancing upwards in search of something…

"Post!" he said brightly as the owls swooped down. An eagle owl landed in front of the young Malfoy. Cesare ripped the letter from the owl, and at its indignant hoot gave it bacon as an apology. Harry barely noticed as Cesare tore into the letter, his eyes scanning it quickly. He let out a whoop when he finished.

"They said yes!" Harry finally glanced up from his breakfast.

"Yes to what?" Cesare beamed at him.

"I have something to ask you, and you've got to say yes!"

"What is it?" Harry asked, not planning on promising anything. He had learned that you should always be wary of enthusiastic Slytherins.

"I've been given permission to ask you to Malfoy Manor for Christmas!" Cesare exclaimed, speaking very quickly. "You've got to come. It's the first time they've let me have friends over ever. Usually I only get to go visit other families, but Mother always has to go with me, and she only ever takes me to places where the children are either younger or older than me. My Father doesn't like visitors, and this is like the best Christmas gift ever! Please, won't you come?" Harry had to concentrate very hard to understand the rush of words out of his friend's mouth. Cesare took a deep breath at the end and gave him the most adorable puppy-dog eyes he had ever seen.

He missed his parents very much, and had been looking forward to a traditional Rosén Christmas, but Cesare's plea made him consider differently. The boy had never had friends over. Harry understood that their relationship was more of an older and younger brother than best friends, and now he could also guess why. He didn't mind though, he found himself being very protective of Cesare, and wanted to give the blond a nice Christmas… besides… Draco would be there. Maybe he could finally figure some things out.

"I'll send a letter to my parents and ask, but I can't promise they'll agree," he said at last. Cesare's smile was as blinding as his father's.

"Thank you!"

Chapter 6: Cesare and the Malfoy family

Harry smiled in return, and then they both went back to their breakfast. It was still difficult for Harry to focus on his meal, though, because he was dreading the first class of the day. It was unfortunately a Friday, and that meant Double Potions. Everything would probably go back to normal, as in: things would be as if he was a Gryffindor all over again.

Cesare kept telling Harry about all the wonderful things they would do for Christmas, every other sentence was completed with the line: 'Oh, I hope it snows!' Harry tried his best to sound enthusiastic in his responses, but once they entered the dungeon classroom he couldn't do anything except sit down and wait for the inevitable.

Snape swept into the room, his billowing rooms seeming more ominous now, and Harry braced himself. He frowned in confusion when Snape did nothing out of the ordinary, and simply waved his wand to make the instructions appear on the board. They were making forgetfulness potions; Harry remembered the potion easily from the first time around, although at the time he had forgotten to add the Jobberknoll feathers three minutes apart instead on two.

He worked quickly and efficiently, ignoring Snape, as the Potions Master seemed to be ignoring him. He wondered if it was going to be a repeat of what had happened after the pensive incident when Snape had purposefully dropped the vial containing his potion and given him a zero. Alas, it was not to be, but something else entirely.

"Mr. Rosén," Snape's sickeningly silky voice reached him. The Potions Master towered over the cauldron, looking down at it with distain. Harry knew the potion was perfect. The rest of the class must have sensed that Snape's tone was different from the usual proud one he used on his favourite student before. Cesare was looking apprehensive. Harry swallowed, but Snape continued before he could answer.

"I believe you must have already had a dose of this kind of potion, as you seemed to have forgotten how to brew at all," said Snape with a sneer. Harry kept the glare out of his eyes and simply looked up at his professor.

"I don't know what you mean, sir. The potion is fine as far as I can tell."

"Who is the teacher in his classroom, Mr. Rosén?" Snape asked harshly. "You're potion is flawed. Ten points from Slytherin for your cheek and ten more for presuming you know more than me." Harry gaped at him, no longer able to contain his glare. Snape glared right back. "Was there something you wanted to say Mr. Rosén?" Harry snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. Snape sneered one last time and moved one, but not before making Harry's potion disappear and telling him to start over.

The class was in a state of shock. Snape taking points from his own house was unprecedented! And not only that, but the star pupil was now suddenly on Snape's hate list. Harry grumbled his way through the rest of the class. Cesare kept giving him sympathetic looks. The Weasley twins were giving Harry curious glances. The rest of the Slytherins were muttering and whispering, contemplating what Harry could have done to piss their Head of House off.

After class all the Slytherin first-years rounded on Harry, who brushed off their questions. When they persisted he told them he would win back the points in the next Quiddith match, and that they should all bugger off or he would drop the team altogether. At this they reluctantly left, sending him not so discreet glares over their shoulders.

"You shouldn't use such language," was all that Cesare had to say. And then: "I hope it snows before Christmas." Harry resisted the urge to groan.

…

Snape continued to berate Harry in class, but stopped taking points because he didn't want his house to suffer, nor did he give Harry detention, Harry could guess why. The Slytherin just made the former Gryffindor do twice as much work as the rest of the class, which when you thought about it was technically pretty fair.

Time past, and Harry mulled over many things: Should he try to brew the potion himself? He would have to wait until after Chrismas as he couldn't bring it with him to Malfoy Manor. An image of Draco kept poking at his brain, and he sometimes felt fear when he thought of seeing him. How would he react? Could he handle seeing a family Christmas, with a family that should have been his? With Draco's arms around Pansy? He hadn't cried for the loss of Draco since he was four-years-old, that seemed like another life-time ago, but the faster Christmas approached the more tears he shed for his lost love. He kept it from his friends, though Cesare suspected he was having trouble sleeping when he saw the red-rimmed eyes one morning.

Sleeping was also a difficult affair. His dreams weren't as… intense as they had once been, but because of that he was having trouble remembering them. He could sometimes see a forest, and a desire to become strong enough to move, to go to a place where he would find someone… it was strange because sometimes he felt hatred towards the place and the person inside, and sometimes he felt hope. He wondered if perhaps it wasn't the same place, and that he simply couldn't remember the difference when he woke up.

Harry had written to his parents about staying at Malfoy Manor, entreating them and saying it was important for his friend. Sending letter had become much easier after Fawkes had called to him. The phoenix would pop up in a burst of flame every time he was alone and writing a letter, as if it knew he needed one sent. It made it possible for him to send letters more often, as his parents were quite far away for an owl. His parents were delighted that the school phoenix had taken a shine to him; they considered it a sign that he was a powerful wizard.

In the end they agreed to let him stay in England for Christmas. In no time at all the break was upon them and Harry was sitting on the Hogwarts Express with Cesare, Neville and Harold. They laughed and joked and exchanged Christmas gifts so their parents wouldn't know they cheated and opened them early.

As the train pulled in to King's Cross Harry was filled with trepidation. Cesare had told him Pansy would be picking them up at the station, but Harry could hardly bare the thought that soon he would see his long lost love. He couldn't seem to stop calling Draco that in his mind, even though it was technically he who was the lost one.

They said goodbye to the Weasleys on the train; it went unsaid that Pansy wouldn't want to see her son talking to Weasleys. Then they got out and Cesare immediately began scanning the crowd for his mother while they went and got their trunks. Dragging them down the platform, Cesare finally spotted Pansy.

"Mother," he greeted her, then gestured towards Harry. "This is my friend, from the bookstore, remember? Alex Rosén." Pansy eyed Harry with a neutral expression, eventually giving him a thin smile.

"Yes, of course I remember, Cesare. I hope you will enjoy spending Christmas with us, Alex."

"I'm sure I will," Harry replied, his tone mimicking her polite and formal tone completely. "Thank you for inviting me." His manners seemed to placate her and she ushered them all towards the exit, not wanting to spend a moment longer on the overcrowded platform. The driver of the limousine took their trunks for them. Once in the car Pansy pulled out a small leather-bound book and started going through it. Harry guessed it was a planner. Looking out the window Harry realised the car was moving much quicker than a normal car, almost as fast as the Knight bus. He wondered how much the magical alterations cost, and if they were legal.

"No snow yet," Cesare commented miserably. Harry gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Don't give up hope yet, Ces." He saw Pansy look at them sharply out of the corner of her eye, clearly not liking the massacring of her son's name. Cesare didn't seem to notice and only nodded hopefully.

Harry's insides were doing summersaults. With every second he was moving closer to Draco. All too soon they were nearing Wiltshire. The countryside rolled by in a blur and then they started to slow down. They turned onto a long drive lined with very old trees, so tall their branches came together at the top and created a green-domed roof. Harry saw between their trunks empty rolling laws.

When they passed the wards a shiver of magic passed through them, and the seen changed. Harry saw a Quiddith pitch in the distance, and the lawn wasn't empty, but a beautiful garden with many shrubberies and empty flowerbeds due to the time of year around the winding paths. He saw a few gnomes stick their heads out as the car passed.

As the car turned Harry finally lifted his gaze and saw Malfoy Manor. The place didn't look as formidable as he had imagined it. He had pictured it a cold place, an age-old stone building, magical like Hogwarts, but completely lacking its atmosphere. This place was actually quite beautiful and seemed to glow with a brightness Harry hadn't expected. He couldn't see the whole building, but could discern that it had not been built in one go, and many generations had added different styles to the new wings.

A house-elf popped into existence and wordlessly took their trunks from the driver. Pansy didn't pay them any mind and walked up to the doors, which opened of their own accord, without looking to see if the boys followed.

"Come on," Cesare said brightly, taking Harry by the hand and dragging him up the steps to the entrance. Harry tilted his head back as they entered, the ceiling was high and painted beautifully; it depicted a battle scene between goblins and wizards, the latter winning at the moment at least. Harry wondered if it was spelled to always allow the wizards to win. The fighting didn't make any sounds, and without it the characters' movements seemed more like a ballet.

They passed from the entrance hall to a blue drawing room, the furniture looking well over a hundred years old in style, but not in condition. Pansy had disappeared, but Harry was too busy drinking in all the amazing details to pay attention.

They didn't stop, but passed through several doors. Harry noticed some of the people in the portraits were following their progress, looking curiously at Harry. Finally they stopped and Cesare knocked on the door in front of them at the end of the hallway.

"Come in." Harry's breath hitched. He knew that voice. It had deepened with age and experience, but Harry had no doubt to whom it belonged to. Cesare quickly opened the door and stepped inside, once there he finally let go of Harry's hand and went forward on his own.

"Father!" Draco was sitting behind a large desk. The rest of the room was filled with bookshelves and modern looking furniture. The whole room looked lived in and comfortable, but still expensive. The fireplace was of marble, with couches and a coffee table in front of it, but not so close that people couldn't come easily through the floo. Draco looked up when Cesare spoke and smiled. Harry could only stare, unable to feel anything in that moment.

Draco had become a man, a grown man, a father, and a war veteran. At eighteen he had already reached his full height, but now, almost twelve years later, he still seemed so much bigger than Harry remembered! (This could be due to the fact that Harry was a bit smaller). The blond hair was longer, tied at the neck to keep it out of his eyes. He looked more like Lucius than ever, but he was still of leaner build, and his face was not as harsh. The grey eyes were filled with memories that would never fade. He appeared immaculately groomed and wore fine robes. His skin was as pale as ever, and didn't look like it had seen the sun for decades, but it didn't look unhealthy, just otherworldly as always. Draco pushed back his chair as his son came towards him. Cesare came to stand in front of his father.

"Hello, my son. Let me look at you," Draco said softly. He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and looked into the grey eyes, so like his own. Harry was shocked to find a stinging in his eyes, but blinked back the tears. Draco would never look at him with recognition. He would only see a little boy, a friend of his son, a son he had had with Pansy. The betrayal stung anew.

"You've grown," Draco stated after a moment. Cesare smiled shyly.

"Thank you, Father."

Suddenly Draco made a move to draw his wand and Cesare tensed, his eyes darting over at Harry. Draco stopped short and looked towards Harry still standing by the door. He quickly pulled his hand away from where his wand was hidden and stood.

"Alex Rosén, Father. Alex, this is my Father, Draco Malfoy." Harry took one step forward.

"Ah, yes, I had completely forgotten, I'm afraid. Please to meet you, Mr. Rosén." Draco stepped around his desk and passed Cesare, striding across the room to shake Harry's hand.

"Alex, please. I have heard of you of course, Mr. Malfoy. It is an honour to meet you." Harry noted that Draco was trying not to frown. He managed smiled thinly instead, letting go of Harry's hand.

"I hope your stay here will be pleasant. Cesare has told me all about you in his letters." Draco glanced at his son, who smiled a little. "I have work to do, Cesare. Why don't you take your friend on a tour?" Harry tried not to let his disappointment show at being dismissed so quickly. Draco hadn't even looked him in the eye properly. A dull hollow feeling settled inside Harry.

"Yes, Father," Cesare replied immediately and came forwards, grabbing Harry's hand like before. Harry just glimpsed Draco's lip quirk before he was dragged out of the room.

Harry was still a little numb from the meeting. He hardly heard what Cesare was telling him about the place. He didn't know what he had expected. He hadn't really considered Draco as a father, a good father from the looks of it… but something wasn't right. The wand was a little suspicious. Harry wondered what that had been about. He dreaded seeing how Draco interacted with Pansy.

…

After Cesare had shown Harry around, rattling off remarkable amounts of knowledge about the place, the pair made their way to the dining room. Pansy and Draco were already there, sitting on either side of a wide table, which stretched the length of the room, and the pair sitting at the end looked like the only members of a Hogwarts house. Harry noted that they hardly looked at each other. They rose when Cesare and Harry entered, greetings were exchanged and then when all were seated the food appeared.

"So, Alex, Cesare tells me you have declared war on the new Weasley twins?" Draco asked, barely glancing up from his soup. Pansy made a soft coughing noise. Cesare sent Harry a mischievous smile.

"Not exactly Mr. Malfoy," Harry answered, trying not to stare too much at the man. He felt so small sitting at the big table. "They are our friends, but we have a certain… competition going. A prank-war, if you will." Draco chuckled softly, and Harry was mesmerized by the sound. Harry knew he could become in danger of sounding very mature for his age, but his friends and Cesare were used to it so he didn't think it would make sense to try sounding different. Pansy made another sound, a little louder this time.

When Draco was finished with the soup he lifted his head and finally looked Harry straight in the eye. Harry was rooted to the spot. The eyes were the same grey colour as Cesare's, but they were filled with so much more. Draco seemed strangely unable to look away as well.

"Green," came a murmur from the blond man. Draco shifted his glance to Cesare suddenly, who smiled back knowingly. The spell was broken.

"Let's have the main course," Pansy said suddenly, a little more loudly than necessary. Harry blinked and then looked down at the new plate that had popped up before him. He tried to steady his heartbeat before picking up his fork and knife. Even when he did his hands were still shaking slightly. He didn't understand what had happened. He didn't notice the way Draco was staring at his son for the rest of the meal, sometimes glancing at Harry.

…

"I have arranged the red guest room for Alex," Pansy said a while later when it was time for bed. Cesare immediately protested.

"But can't he sleep in my room? Please?" Pansy frowned down at her son. Draco had been about to leave to go to his study, but at his son's request he stopped a moment.

"I have prepared the red guest room," Pansy said a little more firmly, as if she had been the one to do it herself.

"I'm sure the house elves can move Alex' things and arrange another bed," Draco smoothly interrupted. Pansy sent him a glare, which he ignored. Cesare beamed.

"Thank you, Father." He didn't wait for a response, but grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him out of the room. Harry heard Draco chuckle softly. Pansy said something sharp, but by then they were too far gone to hear.

…

Harry didn't know why he did it. He wasn't keen on analyzing his reasons too much. He just knew that he had waited for Cesare to fall asleep, and then got up. His limbs seemed to move of their own accord, to some silent piper who had an agenda Harry wasn't aware of, but not exactly eager to rebel against. He pulled out his invisibility cloak from his trunk and threw it over himself.

Silently he crept down the hallways and down the stairs, managing to remember the way to Draco's study despite his distraction the first time he had been there. To his immense relief and excitement he found the door slightly ajar, just enough for a small boy to sneak through. Draco was standing by his desk, his back to the door, holding papers. It looked like he had just come in, and just as Harry slipped inside Draco waved his wand at the door distractedly. It closed with a soft thud. Harry inched along one wall to find the best view.

Draco seemed to be reading a letter, and from the look on his face it wasn't good news. He walked around his desk and sat down, his eyes never leaving the parchment in his hands. After a moment he discarded the letter and sighed heavily. Harry wanted more than anything to go to him, but that wasn't an option. The door opened abruptly and in strode Pansy, looking sour.

"Why did you allow that Alex boy to stay with Cesare when I told him no?" she asked curtly. Draco calmly folded his hands on the desk and looked at his wife.

"It was my decision. I am his parent."

"I am his mother!" Pansy declared hotly, as if Draco had insulted her beyond forgiveness.

"Whatever," Draco said, obviously trying to dismiss her. Pansy pursed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. Draco had gone back to some papers on his desk.

"I was elected to hold the annual garden party the upcoming summer," she said suddenly. Harry wondered what sort of silly exclusive club she was a member of. Draco looked up sharply.

"And why would you allow yourself to be considered?" he asked coldly, a hint of a warning in his voice.

"Because I am the only one who has not hosted it once!" Pansy cried shrilly.

"And you will not be hosting it anytime soon. I will not have my house invaded by a bunch of gossiping witches. You are quite enough on your own." Harry didn't laugh at the comment. The hatred in Draco's eyes, matched easily by Pansy, made the scene far from funny.

"It's a garden party! You don't ever leave the house so I don't see how you would even notice we were here!"

"I go to the garden on occasion," Draco stated, calm once more. "But that is nothing to you. You will go out with your friends; you will spend my money as much as you wish. But you will not bring anyone here. It is my house, my ancestors' home." Pansy looked livid; she was shaking slightly from frustration or anger. Harry thought she looked ugly.

"What about a wizard or two?" she asked sarcastically. "I grow bored having to find ones with nice places. Don't worry, I would share of course," she spat. Draco rose abruptly from his chair, placing his hands flat on the desk, and leaned forward menacingly.

"You have always been free to do as you wished. I have never wanted you in my bed, and I know you are disgusted with me. You will, however, come back here alone, or not at all. Now, either come up some original insults or get out."

"You wouldn't dare throw me out," Pansy stated, though she sounded a tad doubtful. "Not after all this time." Draco just shook his head in mock-pity and waved her away with loathing in his eyes. Pansy glared at him for a moment longer and then swept out of the room.

Harry was breathing heavily under the cloak. That was certainly not what he had expected between the married couple. Why had Draco married her if he had never wanted her in his bed? And why so soon after he had died? It didn't make sense, then again nothing much of Draco made sense anymore. And the fact that Draco wasn't leaving the house, but conducting all his business by mail apparently, was disconcerting.

After Pansy had slammed the door Draco sat down heavily in his chair and stared at the papers in front of him. He picked up the letter again and read through it. Suddenly the fireplace flared to life with green flames. Harry looked over and saw an older version of Blaise Zabini's head in the hearth.

"Draco?" he called. The blond stood and made his way over to the fireplace because the couches obscured him from view, the letter still clutched in his hand. When Blaise saw him he smiled. "I know it's late, but can I pop through?"

"Sure, Blaise. I was just reading another letter from Remus." Harry's heart jumped. He had wondered about his old surrogate godfather. In all the excitement of Hogwarts he still hadn't checked up on all the people from the 'old crowd'. And Draco was in regular contact with him since he called the werewolf Remus! The pair had been civil to each other during the war, but Harry had never heard Draco call Remus anything other than Mr. Lupin.

"Well, he is persistent, I'll give him that. Wait a sec." Blaise's head disappeared and a few moments later the whole of Blaise Zabini stepped through. Draco waved his wand and the ash vanished from the man's robes. "Thanks."

"Was there something in particular you wanted?" Draco inquired as he led his old housemate over to the couches. They sat down opposite each other.

"Well… funny, actually, I was thinking of throwing my hat in with Lupin," he said flatly. Draco rolled his eyes….

Chapter 7: Getting to work

"Merlin's beard, please don't tell me you came here just to try and persuade me. I doubt you have any new arguments, and I get enough of the old ones from Remus' letters." Blaise held up his hands for patience.

"Hear me out, okay? I have always agreed with Remus, but I've been giving you time. That obviously didn't work. Listen, I don't really care why you go out, just that you do. It's been over a decade, Draco-"

"I know how long it's been," Draco said coldly, glaring at his friend. Harry knew Draco well enough to detect the underlying struggle with his emotions. "I know exactly how long it's been, down to the very minute."

"Then you know it is time for you to move on." Blaise was watching Draco warily; afraid the blond man would explode any second, which perhaps wasn't so unlikely.

"I have moved on," Draco declared. "Just last week I managed to thoroughly shag a-"

"That's not the same," Blaise cut him off. "Escorts are not helping you. You cling to the anonymity and the total lack of emotional attachment. You need to get out and participate in real life." Harry's heart was cracking, but he told himself that it was a wonder Draco hadn't fallen in love with someone else. A few shags shouldn't make any difference.

"I don't need anything. I am staying home for Ces-"

"Who is in school now," Blaise insisted, staring intently at Draco to get his point across. "I've accepted that old argument for too long already. He's in Hogwarts now, only home for the holidays. You can't keep sitting in here, communicating through owls and solicitors. People could use your help! Lupin could really use your help with his werewolf project. Your name still holds sway. If you showed up looking perfect, like you always do, and like you hadn't been living as a hermit for a decade, people would listen! You're still the Defeater of Voldemort!"

"Don't say his name!" Draco hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits. Blaise rolled his eyes and threw up his hands.

"Come on. You don't believe in the superstition! Saying his name won't bring him back!"

"I will not have that name in my house!"

"Fine, fine," Blaise said. "Look, I just came from a meeting with Lupin. He contacted me before you say anything!" he added at the look from Draco. "We were all expecting you to get out once Cesare went to Hogwarts, but you haven't done anything. We're worried, more so than usual. Please, Draco. I'm begging you." Draco looked at his friend curiously, as if he hadn't expected Blaise to go that far. He sighed heavily and bowed his head. Harry held his breath.

"Alright," came a whisper. Blaise's eyes widened.

"What?"

"Things are… quiet without Cesare here… so I'll go out. I'll help Remus. I'll help him with fundraising and to convince Ministry officials. I'll even donate money to get the wolfsbane distributed… hell, I'll even call on Hermione and Ron. Merlin knows, I've been horrible to them over the years." Draco finally looked up at his friend.

"Yeah, you have," Blaise shrugged. "I'm the only one who can even come through your floo… I'm really glad you're doing this, Draco," he said sincerely. The blond nodded.

"I… I'll never move on though," he said so quietly Harry almost didn't hear him. Blaise nodded sadly.

"I understand. Just… live your life, yeah? He would have wanted that." Draco nodded again and stood when Blaise did. The pair looked at each other for a moment and then embraced. "I'll see you around them, outside that is?" Blaise said with a small smile. Draco returned it.

"Sure, after Christmas, though."

"Of course, of course, but owl Remus and let him know at least."

"I will." Blaise stepped over to the fireplace and waved goodbye. Draco watched him disappear in a burst of green flames, sighing the moment his friend was gone. "Bloody hell, what am I getting myself into?" he asked the seemingly empty room. He went over to his desk, but didn't sit down. "Not tonight," he murmured, and then he waved his wand, extinguishing the lights. Harry saw the door open and close in the darkness, and Draco walking out.

He stood for a moment in the darkness, feeling overwhelmed with everything he had heard. Could it be that Draco still loved him after all this time? Harry couldn't imagine the anguish of living thinking Draco had died. In Norway during his 'childhood' he had at least known Draco was out there somewhere. Draco had nothing but memories, and still he clung to them.

When Harry was sure Draco had moved far away from his study Harry snuck out and back upstairs. He didn't sleep at all that night.

…

Christmas with the Malfoy family was nothing like Christmas with the Roséns. Pansy was hardly there at all, as there was always another party to go to. Draco tried spending time with his son, but Harry could tell the man was uncomfortable with him there, so Draco soon started spending more time in his study. Harry hoped Draco was writing those letters to Remus, Ron and Hermione. He did want Draco to live his life.

Cesare seemed to be having the time of his life. He delighted in showing Harry the outdoors and indoors of everything at Malfoy Manor. They played games, and did a lot of flying now they weren't at school and Cesare had his broom. Harry found himself becoming protective of the slightly smaller boy, who was so much younger than him mentally.

The tension would come during meals, when Pansy would gossip about her witches even though no one was really listening. Draco would inquire about what the boys did to pass the day, always staring intently into Harry's eyes and then glancing at Cesare. Sometimes after these meals he would call Cesare into his study alone. Harry didn't know what the father and son talked about, but he didn't have the heart to sneak or eavesdrop. He was simply glad Draco seemed to be a much better father than Lucius had ever been, despite Cesare having to deal with other kids saying his father was a hermit. Hopefully that would change soon as well.

Christmas morning was a happy affair. Pansy slept late, and the boys and Draco opened the presents without her. They gathered in one of the more cosy drawing rooms, decorated in red and green to match the occasion, and Cesare began ripping through his presents. Harry had been sent his from Norway, though not all of them as that would have taken too many owls. His parents said they would save them for the Easter holiday, when he was coming home. Since Harry always reminded himself to be thankful of his new life he opened the presents slowly, even if some of them were a tad childish. His parents and close family knew him well enough, however, and bought him gifts that suited him a bit more.

Draco watched the proceedings with an amused smile. Harry tried not to stare because how absolutely gorgeous Draco was when he smiled like that. Cesare seemed oblivious to it all. Harry kept his gaze down as he opened the present from his parents. It was a golden practice snitch and Harry smiled as he caressed it. Draco's eyes suddenly narrowed slightly.

"Cesare told me you made the Slytherin team, Alex… the youngest since Harry Potter." Harry couldn't identify what was in Draco's tone when he said his old name. Was he perhaps a little resentful that another boy had managed to become such a young seeker, and that people were saying he was as good as Harry Potter had been?

"Yeah, and he's amazing, Father," Cesare said, having spotted the snitch. "He's won all our games so far. We're going to win the cup this year, no question!" Draco smiled at his son, then turned his eyes back to Harry, who quickly picked up another present. They continued in more or less silence, apart from Cesare's exclamations. Harry received a gift from Draco and Pansy, though Harry guessed only the former had actually even known of it. Cesare and Harry had already cheated with each others gifts on the train, but if Draco noticed the lack of gifts between the two friends he didn't comment. Harry finally got up the nerve to give Draco his gift. He couldn't make it anything too personal, because that would cause suspicion. He just wanted to thank the man for letting him stay.

He rose with the last of the presents and went over to where Draco was seated on the couch. "For you, sir, as a thank you for letting me stay here." Draco took the gift with a look of mild surprise on his face.

"Why thank you, Alex, you didn't have, we were more than happy to have you." Harry wondered if Draco noticed that the gift was for him only, and not Pansy. Again the man didn't comment. Cesare smiled at his friend's thoughtfulness. Draco opened the gift and found a copy of Ingolfr the Iambic's verses in both Norwegian and English. They were all about Quiddith and the beauty of the country that invented the game. There was also an article about how the poet had introduced the game to Norway. Harry hoped Draco liked it.

"Alex, thank you," Draco said softly as he opened the book. "Did you pick out this yourself?" Harry nodded. "I have yet to read the verses, but I certainly will now." He smiled at Harry, who felt his heart flutter. He wanted to jump into the man's arms, but instead only smiled shyly back and went over to Cesare to help him play with some of his new toys. He felt Draco's eyes on him for a long time.

…

The rest of the holidays passed quickly, and all too soon Harry was back on the train with Cesare and the Weasley twins, both sporting new jumpers from their grandmother. They told them about the enormous family gathering at Christmas, so unlike anything both Cesare and Alex were used to. The whole clan had been there: Ron, Hermione, their twins, the old twins, Ginny with her newest boyfriend and daughter Emily (whose father's name Harry didn't know), Bill and Fleur with their children (all of who went to school in France), Charlie and his wife, along with their newborn, and of course Molly and Arthur presiding over the whole affair. Harry wanted to ask about Percy, but obviously couldn't as the twins had never mentioned him.

Harry wanted even more to be back at Malfoy Manor, simply staring at Draco. There was no doubt that he still loved the man dearly, and if death and another life hadn't diminished his love, nothing would. But he had no idea if he would ever be able to confess his continuing existence to Draco. Would the man ever believe him if he did? Harry wasn't even sure if he was going to take the aging-potion yet. He hadn't even started brewing it! So, with a little unsteady resolve, Harry decided to put thoughts of Draco away for the moment. Things would come when they did.

…

Classes started up again, and things were much as they had been before Christmas: Snape was still a bastard towards Harry. Alex Rosén was still the newest Quiddith star at Hogwarts, and the pranking war showed no sign of ever ending.

On one of the mornings not long after their return an Eagle owl landed in front of Cesare without the usual parcel of sweets. Instead there was a letter, and Harry recognised the script of Draco. Cesare quickly ripped the letter open, letting Harry take care of feeding the owl, and looked stunned, but happy when he finished.

"Wow," he said, still staring at the letter.

"What is it?" Harry thought it wouldn't offend his friend to ask. Cesare smiled and wordlessly handed the letter to Harry, who took it with feigned reluctance, not wanting to show how eager he really was to read anything Draco had written.

Dear Cesare

How is school? I know you are doing well in all your classes because Severus sends me updates whether I ask for them or not, but I would like to hear how you are doing in your own words. I am sorry I did not write during your first term. I fancied it was for the best, so that you would learn independence. Alas, some lessons from Lucius have stayed with me. I will not hesitate to write any longer.

I do not know if Pansy spoke to you during the break, but if she said anything about Weasleys or Alex don't listen to her. You must chose your own friends, and stand by them. I shall love you no matter what, and you know that don't you?

That said I must confess my own neglect when it comes to friends. But I am even now taking steps to rectify mistakes I should already have learned not to make. It is not only you who has urged me to move into the world again. You are wise beyond your years Cesare, seeing things in people even they themselves can't see. You certainly don't get that trait from me! But I am losing my point.

I have been kidding myself staying at home, but as you read this letter I shall be meeting with a bunch of werewolves! You think it exciting don't you? Yes, I can see you smirking even now. Remus is very grateful, far more so than I deserve considering my earlier neglect. You have until now been the only source of pride in my life. I hope by committing myself to my new work that I can once again be proud of what I do. Please wish your father luck and think of me in this moment as I step across the wards. I shall be thinking of you.

All my love, always,

Draco

Harry looked up at Cesare when he finished and saw the blond boy beaming with pride. Harry smiled at him, feeling a great deal of pride himself. Draco was out in the world again, working for a good cause it seemed. Harry could feel tears in his eyes when he read the love shining through the letter for Cesare. As he looked once again at the letter and then at his friend, he felt love for the boy as well. It wasn't romantic love, nor could it be described as friendship, but… a brotherly one perhaps? Harry wasn't sure, but he could easily see how Draco could be so proud of his son.

Cesare had none of the arrogance of Lucius, or Draco in his younger years. In fact he was shy, probably from a home life with no one but his father for company, but he could be fierce when he wanted to, and just as smart. He was cunning like a Slytherin when it came to pranks, but was also more open with his feelings, like Harry.

Harry handed the letter back, "I hope your father is successful in his work," he said sincerely. Cesare nodded his thanks and they continued to eat while going over the details of their newest prank.

…

During Easter break Harry went home, and hugged his parents to near suffocation. He had missed them more dearly than he ever thought possible. His mother and father couldn't stop gushing over him, telling him how proud they were, and Harry couldn't help but feel a tiny bit guilty, considering he was kind of cheating.

He managed to convince them to go shopping in wizarding Bergen, a city with a rich history of magic, and witch trials. The famous old buildings lining the harbour hid an entryway to an alley not entirely dissimilar to Diagon Alley in London. Once there Harry managed to sneak away and buy the ingredients to the aging potion. He knew he could never steal from Snape, especially since the man knew what he was up to. He would start brewing once he was back at school, but the potion, because of the amount of years he wished to age, would need to be tended up until the summer holiday. He hoped he could do a strong enough stasis charm for the long trip home.

…

Slytherin won the Quiddith Cup and the House Cup thanks mostly to Harry, who shied away from the praise just as much as he did the first time around. Cesare couldn't stop beaming at his friend all through the leaving feast. The twins didn't seem to bear him any ill will, and set off a green fireworks display in Slytherin's honour. Since it wasn't technically a prank, the aid of the older twins was not commented on.

The four friends shared a compartment like before and gave promises to write. Harry couldn't write as often of course, due to the distance, but he promised to write as much as the owls would allow. He didn't want them dropping into the sea from exhaustion.

The Weasley twins separated from Cesare and Harry once on the platform. Harry wanted to follow them so he could catch a glimpse of Ron or Hermione, but Cesare was tugging at his sleeve insistently. Harry turned to him.

"What?"

"Look, look!" Cesare said, now beaming towards someone on the platform. Harry followed his gaze and felt his face break into a smile. Not far from them stood Draco Malfoy, alone, gazing at his son with a fond smile. Cesare broke into a run and reached out for his father. Harry was sure Malfoy senior wouldn't allow such a scene, but he was proven wrong when Draco crouched down and scoped Cesare into his arms, lifting him high, making them both laugh delightedly. Harry thought it the sweetest thing he ever seen or heard.

"Father! I can't believe you're here! Where's Pansy?" Harry heard Cesare ask as he came nearer since he hadn't said a proper goodbye yet.

"You're mother was only too relieved to not miss her tea with Miss Chang." Harry's eyes widened, both at the way Draco spoke of Pansy to his son, and about the witch whose tea party Pansy refused to miss.

"I'm so proud of you, Father. You must tell me everything you've been doing!"

"That I will son, and so will you," Draco said, setting Cesare down finally. He spotted Harry at the same moment. "Ah, Alex, I didn't see you there. Had a good year?"

"Yes, sir. I saw the articles in the Prophet. You're work is very admirable," Harry said, trying not to stare too much as usual. Draco looked at him oddly.

"You read the Prophet and still thought I'm admirable?" he asked dryly. Harry's lip quirked. The newspaper had made it out that Draco's mind had left him due to lack of use in his hermit life. Just then the Rosén appeared through the crowd and came over, Harry was hugged by his mother. Kenneth Rosén nodded to Draco, but waited for his son to introduce him, which Harry did once released from Elisabeth.

"Mother, Father, you've met Cesare. This is Draco Malfoy, his father. Mr. Malfoy these are my parents: Kenneth and Elisabeth Rosén."

"A pleasure," Draco said cordially, holding out his hand to Mrs. Rosén first and then Kenneth. The two men shook hands firmly. Harry couldn't help but compare them, and was a little glad to note that Draco was younger.

"Alex has told us all about the lovely Christmas he spent at your house. We would love to invite you to Norway sometime in the future. I understand you are a little busy right now? News of your work has reached us, and I must commend you," Elisabeth said kindly, giving her most charming smile. Harry suddenly felt an irrational surge of jealousy as Draco smiled back at her.

"I would like to visit your country one day, especially after Alex here gave my a copy of Ingolfr the Iambic's works for Christmas." His parents glanced at Harry with surprise, but with clear pride. "I understand your country has a passion for Quiddith mostly due to his verses?" The conversation continued in a polite tone, promises of future meetings were exchanged. Draco seemed as if he had done nothing in his life but play the perfect gentleman. Harry was loathed to say goodbye, but in the end he had to hug his friend one last time.

"See you next year, Alex," Cesare whispered in his ear. "I'll think up a hundred pranks for Nev and Harry."

"You do that. Bye." They finally parted and Harry had to make the long journey home, having to go through both Ministry's before they could floo home.

That summer would be the last one he spent as young Alex at the Rosén family home up in the mountains…

Chapter 8: One Snake Too Many

Yessss, if the spirit could make a sound it would be a hiss. It was stronger now, so very strong, after a decade of waiting, like last time. It had found a snake to inhabit in the forest. Now it could perhaps find a human who would be suitable… maybe even a wizard or witch, and then it could contact the servant, the faithful one, the only one left outside the walls of Azkaban. Perfectly placed to bring the enemy to him and perform the ritual. Soon…

…

The villagers noticed the air had become thick again. The strange disappearances were happening again. First just strange killings by beasts who don't usually attack humans. Then someone would disappear, only to show up again with that dazed look like last time all those years ago. They would always die. In the night people could sometimes hear them screaming 'Not good enough! Can't stay! Not good enough!'.

Then they would be found. Soon enough, just like last time, a strange fellow wearing odd looking clothes would turn up, asking the villagers about these strange happenings, telling them he had heard it on the news, because the local station had been out there again and made a report about it, but like last time the man, though it wasn't the same one as last time, had spoken about it as if speaking about something foreign. He seemed eager, as if he had been expecting something he had been hoping would be coming for a long time. The people didn't like him, but although no one remembered telling him anything, he seemed to know it all after only a couple of days. He disappear then, going up into the woods. They hoped he turned up dead instead of coming back dazed. He seemed quite odd enough as it was.

…

With a start Harry sat up in bed, his skin wet from sweat, his breath coming in gaps. He looked around wildly, searching for the creature that had haunted his dream. He knew the thing was stronger, and that it was venturing closer to the humans, looking for one strong enough to inhabit. The creature had invaded his dreams during a nightmare about the final battle.

He remembered the last time he had seen Neville. He could glimpse Dumbledore for a moment, but the man was fighting like a mad man. The snake… was not in his dream. Harry's instincts were telling him to go to the Battlefield. There was something he was missing. He got out of bed, knowing he would not be able to sleep. He wanted to read that book again, about prophecies.

To make sure he wasn't caught by house elves, or his parents, he took the cloak and crept out of his room. He made his way downstairs, stopping short when he was only feet away from the door to the library. He heard his mother's voice. It sounded distressed. She was babbling about something, and Harry had to consciously switch to the right language in his mind before he understood her.

"… off to some country to chase-"

"I can do whatever I like… listen to me, Lisa. I need to go down there again. You don't know what I may be close to finding!" Kenneth Rosén sounded very urgent, and eager. Harry pressed himself against the door to hear properly.

"I'm not sure I want to know."

"Look at this." Harry heard his father summon a book. "I've been reading up on everything about prophecies. Remember there was one about the Dark Lord and Harry Potter? I couldn't find anyone to tell me all of it. Albus Dumbledore wouldn't, the bastard. Anyway, I read through all the papers and books about the final battle and I think I'm on to something!" Harry wanted to smack himself on the head. Why hadn't he been more suspicious when he found all those newspapers? All with articles about Voldemort!

"What are you talking about?" Elisabeth asked, her voice betraying her fear.

"I'm saying the Dark Lord could have cheated death again! Do you understand what that means? Harry Potter was the Chosen one to kill him, but that Malfoy guy did it instead. I think he's still out there, just waiting for the right moment to return! Think, Lisa! Can you imagine how strong the Dark Lord is? If we were the ones to help him-"

"Help him? Help him with what? Are you insane? How is it you have found out all this? Why you?" Harry heard his father sigh impatiently.

"Because I am probably his only follower not in Azkaban or dead," he father stated bluntly. "Though I never got around to getting the Mark, or even actually meeting him..." he added, muttering.

"WHAT! But you… you played Quidditch during the last war in Britain. You didn't-"

"I retired during the last war, remember? I joined the Ministry. The fact is I offered to be the contact person to the Dark Lord for when he decided to take the war outside Britain. Norway is rich in magical creatures he wanted to ally himself with, not to mention all the pureblood families! As for why me in particular, why not? Better for him to pick someone who actually offered their services than to imperius some Ministry official." There was a long silence. Harry wondered if his mother had fainted from shock. He wasn't far from it himself.

"So… now-"

"Now I'm going back down to there and try to find him! He's there, somewhere. I know it!"

"But… why? Why would you want to join him?" His mother sounded close to tears.

"I did it for you, and at the time our future child. And now I'm doing it for you and Alex. Think of your work to preserve the fjords and natural wonders here. Think how much easier it would be without the muggles destroying everything! And the creatures could roam free without the Ministry cutting down on their territory all the time. And our family would have the highest honour-"

"Kenneth! - You not serious!" The wizard snorted loudly.

"Of course I am," he declared brightly. "Lisa, I must go. I am leaving tonight. Now, in fact. I have a portkey to catch. I'm flooing to the Ministry-"

"Now? But- but we almost just got home! You've hardly spent time with Alex at all!"

"I am doing this for him! Don't worry, Lisa. Everything will work itself out. You'll see." Harry was disgusted with his father's sincere and loving tone. He sounded so normal, yet he was talking about helping a Dark Lord gain power again! He heard the floo flare and then his mother's harsh breathing. She was obviously trying to hold her composure.

When Harry heard his mother start towards the door he back up hurriedly and ran back to his room, all previous thoughts forgotten in the shock of new discoveries.

He lay in bed all night pondering his father's actions. He didn't want to pass judgement early; he knew people could repent. Maybe his father hadn't really understood what had happened in Britain during the war? Maybe when he realised what Voldemort was really about he would change his mind?

Whether his father was really going to support a Dark Wizard wasn't important right now. Harry needed to take the ageing potion, tomorrow if possible, and prepare himself. He wasn't going to following his father and seek out the spirit of Voldemort, he wouldn't know where to start or if there even existed spells to help him. He doubted his father really knew how to locate the Dark Lord. But he would make sure he was ready to kill the bastard if he ever did return.

That would mean leaving Norway, leaving his mother, and claiming back Grimmauld Place, along with the Black and Potter vaults. How was he going to handle his mother? That was the big question. Harry, exhausted from the shock of finding out about his father, fell into a fitful sleep before he could decide.

…

Harry found his mother looking pale and drawn, with bags under her eyes, sitting at the breakfast table. She looked up and smiled faintly when he entered.

"Morning, sweetie," she greeted softly. Harry returned the greeting and sat down. He didn't ask about his father, as it was usual for the man to be gone to work before Harry got up. They ate in silence; Harry noted his mother had made sure all his favourites were there. Afterwards he looked up seriously at Elisabeth.

"Can we go in the drawing room and talk?" he asked. She tilted her head to the side and looked at him oddly. Perhaps she sensed something was off about his tone. In the end she nodded and they moved together to the drawing room, sitting down on the couch. Harry took his mother's hands in his. He looked down at the hands, his own so small, but the same pale complexion as his mother.

"I heard you and father last night," he began, hoping this conversation would go better than the one with Snape. He felt his mother flinch and heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Alex, you mustn't-"

"No, please, let me speak. I have a lot of explaining to do, and it will be very difficult for you to understand, but you must try to believe me… can you do that?" Harry looked up then and met his mother's gaze. She looked very worried and her eyes were filled with unshed tears. She nodded jerkily. Harry looked back down at their joined hands.

"You know I am very mature for my age… there is a reason for that- but I'm starting at the wrong end…" He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "What father said is true. The Dark Lord is still alive out there."

His mother gasped, "How? How could you know that? Did someone at school tell you stories?" Harry chuckled softly at that.

"No, no stories. I wish. No one knows except for the Dark Lord himself, father and… Harry Potter."

"You're not making any sense sweetie. Harry Potter died."

"Yes, he did…" Harry sighed heavily. How the hell was he going to say this without freaking her out? "Mother… Mum, he didn't fulfill his destiny, so he was… reborn." He looked deep into her light brown eyes, almost golden. They stared back uncomprehendingly. "He was reborn… as…. Me." There was a long silence. A frown grew steadily on Elisabeth's face.

"That's not funny, Alex."

"It's not meant to be! I am Harry Potter, or I was. I remember things you have never had nightmares about. Horrible deaths, war, Dark Magic and spells you've never imagined! I remember being under the Cruciatus Curse. The unbearable pain of it. I remember standing in front of the Dark Lord, telling him I was going to kill him… but I never did. I-"

"Alex, stop this!" Elisabeth cried, yanking her hands out of his. She glared at him. "You're scaring me."

"I am trying to make you understand. Please, believe me." But his mother was shaking her head.

"This is not possible. Stop this! I am sorry that you heard your father talk such nonsense, but that is no reason for you to start coming up with stories of your own!"

"Mother-"

"I will not listen to this a moment longer!" she cried. Harry sighed again, and before she could even rise from the couch he had drawn his wand.

"Obliviate!" Her eyes glazed over and she blinked once, slowly. Harry stood and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. When he pulled back he had tears sliding down his cheeks. He quickly left her before she could regain her senses.

…

Harry let the silent tears fall as he wrote a note for his mother. It didn't make much sense, but Harry needed to give her something to try and comfort her. He wrote that she had sent him to friends in Britain. That she didn't want him around if his father decided to go through with his plans for the Dark Lord. He explained that she wanted to be obliviated so that she wouldn't know where he was in hiding. If it did come to war again he would be completely safe. Yes, he knew it didn't make much sense, but it was all he could do for her.

He did meet with her once more, and it was hard for him to pretend everything was as always. He convinced her he didn't want to go back to Hogwarts: That he would much rather go to school at home. She didn't need much convincing, as she was only too happy to have her boy closer. She immediately wrote a letter to the Headmaster of Hogwarts and told him Alex wouldn't be coming back.

When he was sure she was asleep that night he packed his cloak, map, a few of his father's clothes and enough money to keep him alive for a while in case the goblins didn't recognise his magical signature. He took his wand and bag, donned a currently oversized robe from his father, black in colour, and stood in front of the floo in the drawing room with the finished potion in hand.

He set his bag down and unstopped the vial, taking deep breaths. It was now or never, he concluded, and started drinking. The more you wanted to age the more potion was needed. Nine gulps later and the brew was all gone. Ten seconds passed and then Harry doubled over in pain, the vial falling to the floor. He groaned, a horrible gurgling sound, and fell to his hands and knees. 'Fucking hell!' was all he could think. He felt every bone, muscle and his skin growing. It could be compared to a werewolf transformation.

Finally he had grown up, so to speak, and everything was silent except for his heavy breathing. He pushed himself up and stood, swaying slightly at the sudden height. He took out his wand and conjured a full-length mirror in front of him, and gasped.

He was twenty years old, and quite handsome. He had grown to his father's, Mr. Rosén that is, impressive height, but didn't have as broad shoulders. He was still more powerful looking than the body of Harry Potter had ever been. He felt his stomach and where in his past life there had been skin and bone, now there was muscle. His hair had apparently grown as if he had never cut it in nine years, and hung almost to his waist. That would have to be dealt with.

Now to get to the Ministry and catch an International portkey. He didn't dare make an unauthorised one. He would pretend to be an Englishman going home, which should be easy. With one last glance back at his home he threw the powder in and stepped into the green flames.

Harry stood outside Grimmauld Place. It was his again, though he had easily bribed the goblins not to reveal that Harry Potter had claimed it back from the Order. All the official records that Dumbledore would read stated that the rightful heir had claimed it. The Black and Potter vaults were in his possession also. It has been done in less than an hour; the goblins smoothed the way with a few extra galleons in their pockets.

He went inside and took a good look around. The place was as dusty and old looking as ever, though Mrs. Black was finally gone. The kitchen was the only place that still looked lived in. He climbed the many stairs and found the master bedroom, old and grim, but adequate with a nice big bed and bathroom. He did a little cleaning with magic and then put this bag away without unpacking in the closet.

He went to the bathroom and stared in the mirror. He didn't like his hair so long. A few spells he had once learned from Ginny, and his hair was cut to just above his shoulders. He liked it like that, and if anyone from school saw him he didn't look too much like a suddenly aged Alex Rosén. He tied it in a loose ponytail, a few strands falling out and framing his face. Harry had never thought himself good-looking before, but he had to admit… he didn't look half bad now.

He still had a few things to do before the day was over, so he left the house, carefully locking it with spells and wards, and then apparated.

He appeared in the middle of an empty field, the smell of newly cut grass in the air, just by the side of a forest. Between two hills he could see a path winding down to a village. He glanced around once, his mind's eye seeing the duelling witches and wizards, hearing the cries and curses. He walked to one edge of the field and scanned the ground. There was no trace left of his last fight with Voldemort, but there was a bronze plaque set on a foot high granite stone. On it read:

In this place on the 30th of May 1998, Draco Malfoy killed and destroyed He Who Must Not Be Named. Here also, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, died to save Draco Malfoy. This plaque is set in magic stone, and the Dark Lord shall now never return.

In memory of: The Boy Who Died For Love, and all those others who died to save the ones they loved.

Harry didn't bother linger by the stone. It served no purpose according to him because the Dark Lord would return… again. He was getting real tired of having to try and kill the guy! Hopefully this time would be the last. Then perhaps he could find peace.

He walked in the direction of the forest, something inside him made him enter it. There was definitely a magic residue that had nothing to do with the battlefield. This was new, as if a magical creature had just passed by, but as far as Harry knew the forest was supposed to be muggle in nature.

He quickened his pace and searched between the trees. It was stronger than a normal magical creature, he suddenly realised. A wizard? Perhaps someone had been to visit the Battlefield? Harry cursed himself for not bringing his invisibility cloak. For all he knew a follower of Voldemort could be here to check things out just like Harry was doing… Merlin, what if it was his father?

"Medusa's hair!" An infuriated shout came from nearby. Harry immediately crouched down low, looking around him. He drew his wand and kept it at the ready. It sounded female, that was all Harry could determine. "And I was so close too!" the voice wailed. Harry heard rustling very close to him. Whatever he had been expecting it wasn't a yellow-eyed snakehead suddenly poking out of the underbrush and coming face to face with him. He gave a startled shout and toppled backwards on his arse. He pointed his wand at the snake, but didn't move from his position.

"Don't kill me. I mean you no harm," Harry said quickly, knowing he was lying, but not caring considering what snake this was.

"You speak?" the snake asked. Harry resisted the urge to say, 'duh'. "There are only two wizards I knew who could speak to me… both are dead."

"I am neither as I am not dead," Harry said. Holding up his other hand as he carefully put away his wand in a show of good faith. The snake seemed to relax. Harry slowly got to his feet. "I came here to visit the Battlefield… My name is Alex… were you here during the battle?" The snake remained silent for a moment, as if to consider how much to tell the human. In the end she slithered out of the bush she had been hiding in and coiled around herself, resting her head on her body. Harry sat down Indian style so they could speak more easily.

"I was my Master's most prized possession," Nagini began fondly. "And now I am nothing more than a common snake reduced to hunting my own food in these woods! I mourn for my Master every day." Harry tried to look sympathetic.

"Did you fight in the battle?" he asked.

"Oh no, my Master would not allow me to get hurt. I stayed in the forest and watched."

"Did no one come and find you? Look for you?" When the snake looked at him oddly he hastened to explain. "Since you were your Master's prized possession I would assume you would be a target?" Nagini nodded, she seemed to like talking to someone again.

"Perhaps you are right… there were a couple of children running around… I felt them try and summon me with magic, but I resisted because my Master taught me how." Harry frowned.

"What did they look like?" he asked.

"One was a redhead, I like them, they're tasty, and one had lots of bushy brown hair… the redhead was awfully tall."

"No one else tried to summon you? Did you see an old man? With a very long beard?"

"You mean Dumbledore?" Harry nodded. "Yes, I saw him. He fought like a madman. He saved many wizards and witches. He jumped into duels and saved many lives for his side… but he came nowhere near me." Harry's brows furrowed as he thought hard. Why hadn't Dumbledore made an effort to kill Nagini? Apparently only Ron and Hermione had even tried. Had the old Headmaster been so convinced Nagini wasn't a horcrux? But that was preposterous. Harry could feel her magical presence, stronger than the average snake. This serpent definitely had a piece of Voldemort in it.

"Thank you, Nagini. You have been most helpful," Harry said as he rose. The snake looked up at him in confusion.

"How do you know my name?" Harry didn't answer her. He drew his wand before she could form another thought.

"Avada Kedavra."

Chapter 9: One Shot Firewhiskey Too Many

Harry looked out the window, noting with a great deal of amusement as an unidentified Order member tried to get into Grimmauld Place. They had been doing that a lot lately. He could just picture the look on Dumbledore's face when presented with this particular puzzle. The old wizard would only become more confused when he found out that the 'rightful heir of the ancient and most noble house of Black' had been the one to claim back everything… and how the hell could the Black heir get hold of the Potter vaults? Harry smirked as he let the curtain fall back. He waited until the man had gone and then went out to buy food.

He had been at Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer holiday. During that time he had gotten used to having such a "big" body. He had read everything useful in the library, and he had trained. During what spare time that was left him he had tried making the house more presentable, but it wasn't high on his list of priorities. Now, with the young Weasley twins back at Hogwarts, he needed to visit some very old friends.

He had decided after killing Nagini, the last horcrux, that interviewing Ron and Hermione about the battle should be his next step. His dreams of Voldemort had not become any more intense than before, so he reasoned the bastard was still in a forest somewhere. He needed to know more about what Dumbledore had been doing during the battle… and he wanted an excuse to see his friends.

In the end he had also decided that he would have to tell them, despite his horrible record of telling people about his true identity so far. Hopefully they would at least react more like Snape and actually believe him at the very least. He was both excited and nervous when he left the house. He had found out they lived in a cottage not far from the Burrow.

He apparated to the top of a sunny hill. To the east he could make out the Burrow, the sight painfully familiar and yet distant in his mind. Down the other side of the hill lay the Granger-Weasley cottage. It was what one would call two and a half stories high, and wonderfully cosy looking, though not small. It looked more than big enough for the family that lived there. Smoke rose from the chimney and in the garden some of the flowers were still in bloom. The house was painted white, with a grass roof, and a welcoming, though perhaps not in the best of tastes, orange door. Harry wondered how Ron had managed that one. He set off down the hill with a grin on his face.

Harry unconsciously smoothed down his blue robes, the exact same colour as the cloudless sky, as he walked up the path to the door. He had chosen the colour carefully, going for something neutral and calming, and which didn't look totally wrong on him.

He took a deep breath and knocked twice, much more firmly that he though he could manage. It was a Sunday, so he hoped both of them were still at home. He didn't think he could go over to the Burrow and ask for them. He heard someone move inside, and then Ron's voice, though it sounded deeper than Harry remembered, but that was perhaps just his mind playing tricks on him.

"I'll get it." The door swung open and there stood Ronald Weasley. He looked good, very good in fact. Harry was almost positive he didn't have as many freckles, but again his memory could be faulty. The redhead was still taller than Harry, despite his new genes. The robes were a deep, almost brown, green colour. That was the most shocking bit perhaps, but they suited him very well, and looked fairly new. His face didn't have any real noticeable wrinkles yet, but he looked more robust that before.

"Can I help you?" Ron asked, frowning only a tad at the stranger, who seemed to be staring a bit too much for comfort.

"I- eh, I'm Alex Rosén," Harry stuttered slightly. "I need to speak to you and your wife," he said quickly, trying to come up with the best way to get in the house to he could sit down. He didn't think he could do this standing. Ron's frown deepened.

"Rosén?"

"Who is it, Ron?" Hermione's voice drifted from inside. She appeared by her husband's side a second later, and Harry swallowed the sudden onslaught of emotions. She looked amazing to him. Her hair was still bushy, but she seemed to have grown up properly since last time. Even at eighteen Harry had never really thought she looked very womanly, but now she was. Her pale purple robes were a little tight and showed off her figure. She was taller as well, though not near Harry or Ron's height. Perhaps she was wearing high-heeled shoes?

"Says his name is Rosén, Alex Rosén," Ron said. Hermione frowned in thought for a moment.

"The twins know an Alex Rosén at Hogwarts… are you his father?" she asked. Harry swallowed again. He needed to do this right, but there wasn't a right way to tell your best friends you were back from the dead!

"Could we please go inside and sit down?" Harry asked. "It is very important that I speak with you." This had Hermione looking a little alarmed.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes… kind of," Harry said. "Please? I'll hand over my wand if it would make you feel better." The married couple exchanged a look.

"No that's alright, I'm sure," Hermione said eventually. "Come inside." The pair led the way inside and Harry found himself in a cosy looking sitting room. It held a redbrick fireplace, a couch that looked like it had seen better days, but was comfortable, two chairs, a table with mugs and a coffee pot on, several bookcases and a narrow staircase. Everywhere Harry looked he saw mementoes from a life he had not been able to participate in. Knick-knacks and souvenirs sat on the shelves and mantle. Pictures hung on the walls, with people waving from within. In one corner leaned three broomsticks, two of them smaller than the other. In another sat a basket Harry could see was meant for a cat.

"Please sit down," Hermione offered. Harry seated himself on the couch. Ron took what appeared to be his favourite chair, as it had an orange pillow in it. Hermione sat on the couch beside Harry and summoned another mug. "Coffee? Or would you prefer tea?" she offered.

"Coffee, please," Harry said gratefully. She poured by hand and gave him the mug. Harry had never really had time to drink much coffee in his past life, but during his time at Grimmauld Place he had come to rely on it in the mornings. He drank a good gulp and then set it down. He couldn't put it off forever. He was just terrified of being thrown out on his arse.

"What is it you need to tell us then?" Ron asked, looking at Harry curiously. Hermione still seemed a little worried. "Are you Alex Rosén's father?"

"No, I'm not… I am Alex Rosén." Two pairs of eyebrows rose to their respective hairlines. His old friends stared at him in shock.

"Was it an accident?" Hermione inquired. "The twins haven't had time to write from Hogwarts yet… but they did seem to look for someone on the station they couldn't find… oh, dear, honey, are you alright?" She looked at him with motherly concern and Harry again felt the emotions well up in him. She hadn't looked at him like that in a long time.

"No, I mean, yes, I'm fine, but it wasn't an accident. I did this on purpose."

"But why would you do that? Did you want to grow up?" Harry looked her in the eyes, hoping against hope that she would believe him. It was Hermione he felt he needed to convince first. Without her Ron would never believe him.

"Do you believe in… reincarnation?" he asked. Even to himself his voice sounded weak and pathetic. Hermione's concerned look vanished and was replaced by a look of confusion. "Hermione look at me," Harry pleaded, staring into her eyes. "I needed to grow up because mentally I was not a little boy. I am Alex Rosén, but I have the memories of someone else, someone I was in a past life, and still am, in a way." It didn't look like he was reaching her with any of this. She still looked confused and now worried again, most like she thought him insane. Harry took a deep breath and pieced her with his green gaze. He plunged in.

"I am Harry Potter, your friend, reborn, because I did not fulfill the prophecy and kill Voldemort. Draco did instead and I was killed by Lucius. I found out that the reason I am still around is because the Dark Lord survived, just like the prophecy said he would until I kill him. Nagini was still alive, hiding in the forest, the last horcrux. I killed her at the beginning of the summer. Now all I have to do is wait for Voldemort to find me and finish the job.

"I know this is all very hard to believe," Harry continued before they could interrupt. "But it is me, Harry. I remember everything. From our first to last adventure. First year with Voldemort on the back of Quirrle's head. Second with the Basilisk and Ginny, and you, Hermione, figuring out the pipes. Third year with Sirius, my godfather, who we rescued with your time-turner, along with Buckbeak the hippogriff. Forth with the Triwizard Tournament and Voldemort's return, our wands connecting, me seeing Lily and James. Fifth year with… Sirius' death when he fell through the veil…" Harry sighed. He felt exhausted just by going through it all. He hoped he had mentioned all the things that weren't common knowledge. He closed his eyes and waited for their reaction.

"What-… what is the password for the Marauders' Map, and who were they?" Hermione asked shakily. Harry opened his eyes and met hers, full of tears. Harry drew in a shaky breath of his own.

"The Marauders were James Potter, or Prongs, Sirius Black, or Padfoot, Remus Lupin, or Moony, and Peter Pettigrew, or Wormtail, though I prefer to call him a traitorous bastard. The password to the map that shows everyone inside Hogwarts is 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.' To wipe it blank you say, 'Mischief managed.'" A long silence followed. Hermione's eyes flickered over to Ron, who sat as if made of stone in his chair. A tear fell down her cheek.

"Why is your patronus a stag?" Ron asked suddenly. Harry turned to him.

"Because my father was an unregistered animagus and that was his form," he said without hesitation.

"Oh, God, could it be?" Hermione whispered desperately.

"Yes, it is… please believe me," Harry said, looking from one to the other. "I've missed you guys so much."

"What was the last thing you said to us?" Hermione asked, her words drowning in a half-sob. He looked at her, his own tears falling. Ron's eyes were glazing over too.

"Remember: Stay safe because only one of us has got to be a hero tonight." That did it for Hermione. She broke down and threw her arms around Harry's neck. He clutched at her tightly, his tears wetting her hair. From the chair he heard a soft, 'Bloody hell.' When they finally parted Harry was suddenly yanked up from the couch and into a fierce hug. He hugged Ron back. Hermione sobbed into her hands.

"Merlin, Harry! Bloody hell…" Ron drew back and held Harry by the shoulders at arms length. "You don't look like you, but… same eyes I guess… you look good though." Harry chucked weakly through his tears.

"Thanks, Ron… you guys look great. Congratulations on getting married and having two amazing boys… and I'm flattered you named one after me." Hermione suddenly squealed and then they were in a three-way hug. They laughed and cried at the same time.

"You were Alex Rosén at Hogwarts last year?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, those boys of yours are pretty inventive!" He laughed when Ron groaned.

"Fred and George keep teaching them things behind our backs!"

"Oh, sit, sit! And tell us everything!" Hermione demanded. They all sat down on the couch, Harry in the middle. It was a tight fit, but he didn't mind. He couldn't get enough of hugging his best friends.

Harry told them everything. From being four years old and getting his memories back, to his fight with Snape, to his suspicions of Dumbledore and his killing of Nagini. They had a good few laughs about the pranks he pulled. When he told them of the Christmas at Malfoy Manor they grew quiet.

In return they told him of their lives, of who had ended up with who, and how Draco had married Pansy right after the battle. Harry found himself crying again when they told him how Draco had reacted when he had died. He was convinced the blond still loved him now. Ron and Hermione comforted him as best they could, the latter whispering in his ear that she was certain Draco loved him still.

When they asked if he planned on telling Draco he avoided the question. He wasn't sure why he was hesitating, but he didn't know how the blond would react. They seemed to understand his reluctance. Eventually they came to the subject of Dumbledore and Voldemort.

"Dumbledore didn't want to go looking for Nagini! He said she wasn't important. We tried, but we couldn't find her," Hermione said guiltily.

"It wasn't your fault. It was his job," Harry stated firmly. She nodded and continued in a more sure tone of voice.

"He duelled like a madman," she said. "But Ron and I think he was… indebting people to him."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"We have a theory," at this Ron snorted, meaning Hermione had a theory and he had simply agreed to it. "He knew you would kill Voldemort, so he wanted to secure the aftermath. We think he saved lives just so they would owe him a wizard's debt he could exploit later… and afterwards he kept trying to convince people he was the real hero, not Draco, but of course he never said so outright-"

"Den jævla drittsekken!" Harry swore in Norwegian. Ron and Hermione started at him. Harry looked at them sheepishly. "Sorry, I mean, the damned bastard." At this Ron nodded fervently. "He hid my last will and testament too."

"What!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I left most of it to Draco, but some stuff was supposed to go to you guys. I got it back now, though, don't worry."

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Nothing yet… I need to wait for the opportune moment." Harry smirked devilishly. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance and then smirked too.

"You're staying, aren't you?" Hermione asked. Harry blinked.

"I've been staying at Grimmauld Place," he began, but Ron cut him off.

"You can stay here until further notice. You said it yourself that you need to wait for Voldemort to go on the move, right? So, we want you to stay here." Harry smiled at his friends.

"I'll go make some lunch, shall I?" Hermione declared and disappeared into the kitchen before anyone could answer him. Harry looked at Ron and grinned.

"So, fancy a game of chess?" Harry laughed.

"Haven't yet found someone who always loses against you?" They shared another laugh and Ron got out his set.

The rest of the day passed in perfect bliss as far as Harry was concerned. They never stopped talking or laughing. There was so much to say and catch up on. They ended up falling asleep on the couch, leaning on each other. Hermione woke them up around midnight and showed Harry the small guestroom. Harry hadn't slept so well since he left Norway.

…

It was Halloween again, and Harry was still staying at Ron and Hermione's. He had been back to Grimmauld Place several times to collect things, but all in all he was perfectly happy to stay put. He didn't want to tell the rest of the Weasley clan. He was still contemplating introducing himself as Alex Rosén, but as Hermione's insistence he waited to make a decision.

Now the faithful day was upon them again, and it was raining. Harry wondered what sort of crazy or dangerous thing would happen this time. The Spirit of Halloween was not about to let him down.

As evening arrived Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in around the table in the sitting room, drinking a relaxing glass of red wine. They joked and laughed, but also toasted to the memory of those who had died so long ago. Harry had told them all about Kenneth and Elisabeth, and they were happy for him that he finally had parents to love him. Harry tried not to think about how he was sure he must have lost them now. He couldn't very well show up as a twenty-year-old suddenly without them demanding answers.

His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. Ron rose from his favourite chair and went to get it. Hermione and Harry heard him open the door and then Ron's voice.

"Draco?" he asked, a touch incredulously. Hermione and Harry perked up at the name, and rose from their seats.

"You're observation skills have improved, Weasley, Auror training no doubt," came the sarcastic reply. Ron rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let the blond in.

"Mind telling us to what we owe the pleasure of your company?" Ron asked as Draco came inside, a bit sarcastic himself. Draco took in the room, his eyes lingering curiously on Harry.

"Forgive me, I did not know you had company," he said.

"Oh, no it's no trouble, Draco," Hermione said with a smile. "We're glad to see you." Draco looked like he was trying not to snort.

"I should have firecalled ahead… but I needed to clear my head a bit so I walked… I'm sorry… who is your friend?" Ron offered Draco a seat and they all sat down again.

"A- Chris Rosén," Harry said the first name that came to mind, before Ron or Hermione got any ideas, very grateful he remembered Draco had already met his father, and therefore couldn't pretend to be his own parent.

"Ah, yes, you look like Alex… a brother?" Harry nodded. Draco looked to Ron and Hermione, his face pensive.

"He's a good friend," Hermione said. "Alex is friends with the twins, you know." Draco nodded absently.

"I chucked Pansy out of the Manor," he stated bluntly. Harry's stomach did a flip. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. "After I… came out of hiding as it were, I realised that after all these years I don't care about image anymore. I can't stand her, and I told her to pack and get out, and that I didn't care what she told everybody. She… will probably be on the front page of the Prophet fairly soon."

"I'm sorry." Draco shook his head at Hermione.

"Don't be. I'm glad. I think Cesare's glad too. He never liked her."

"He never liked his mother?" Hermione asked, shocked. Draco looked at her sideways, seeming to consider something.

"Can anyone really like Pansy?" Ron snorted in agreement and Draco smirked.

"I think firewhiskey is in order," Ron decided, summoning a bottle and glasses from the kitchen. He poured by hand and everybody took a glass.

"To taking out the trash, finally," Draco declared regally.

"Draco!" Hermione admonished. Draco looked at Harry curiously. He clinked his glass with Harry's and then downed it in one go. Harry followed suit, keeping eye contact through the process.

Several more toasts followed. The four talked about everything and nothing. At eleven Hermione retired and the men were left. By then all three were more than a little tipsy.

"So, Draco, you finally got rid of the bitch?" Ron asked casually. It was probably the third time he had asked that.

"Yes… by the way could I stay here tonight? I don't want to risk going back until I know she's gone."

"Well, you'll need to take the couch," Ron said. "Because he's got the guestroom," he said, pointing at Harry. Draco looked back and forth between them curiously.

"You're staying here?"

"Rather a long way back to Norway tonight, even for a wizard," Harry said with a shrug. Draco nodded in agreement.

"Yes… though I hear muggle transportation is atrocious! All those car things running around." Harry snorted at this, while Ron nodded.

"Don't you own a limo?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. Draco didn't seem to find it odd that Harry knew that.

"No, that was Pansy's," he explained, his speech slurring. "And she took it, and the driver with her I think. I suspect she was fucking him, which is a pity since he was rather hot." Draco's tone went up and down as if he were singing the words, and Harry suddenly had the image of a Norwegian trying to speak English, but keeping his normal inflection. This led to him picturing a drunk Draco trying to make himself understood in Norway, and he couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Are you laughing at me?" Draco demanded, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Are you prejudice perhaps? Do you have something against homosex- uals?" Harry pressed his lips together to keep from laughing more at the way Draco was speaking. Ron snorted from his chair.

"Believe me, he's not. He's far from it, in fact." Draco raised an eyebrow, looking interested.

"Really? And why's that, I wonder."

"Another drink?" Harry asked, changing the subject tactfully. Draco was easily distracted and they continued on talking. Hours passed and they all got even more drunk. Harry said something funny, and Ron laughed. Harry should have known he shouldn't have made up another name. It was a miracle Ron didn't call Harry.

"Ha! Good one, eh, Alex-"

"Alex?" Draco slurred, looking at Ron with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I mean Chris. Alex is the little one," Ron snickered. "But we don't call him Chris, do we? We call him Harry." Draco's eyes grew cold suddenly. He turned to Harry, who was sitting beside him on the couch.

"Why's that?" he asked curiously.

"Eh, middle-name," Harry explained. Draco leaned in.

"Is that so? Well, I think that's an ugly name," he hissed.

"Draco!" Ron exclaimed in shock.

"Don't mind me," Draco said, turning away from Harry and grabbing the firewhiskey on the table. "My mood was shot, but there is a way to fix that. Another shot of firewhiskey!" He poured another drink and gulped it down.

"You can't talk like that in my house, to my guest. Al-… Ha-"

"Ron," Harry warned. "I think it's time for you to go to bed." Ron nodded and stood shakily without complaint at being ordered around in his own house. He disappeared off to bed. It was only after he was gone Harry realised he was now alone with a drunk Draco Malfoy, who was leaning towards him again, something unidentifiable in his eyes.

"So… Harry, was it?" He leaned in suggestively, his mouth close to Harry's ear. Draco was the shorter one now, so he had to sit up more in the couch. "You know I never found out your view on gays… what did Ron mean when he said-… I don't remember what he said! But it got me interested." Harry shivered at the closeness. He was very drunk, and only now realised the utter foolishness of that. He tried rallying some willpower to push Draco away, but now Draco's hand was travelling up his thigh.

"Dray…co," he slurred. "St- stop."

"Why?" Draco breathed. He leaned in and started licking at Harry's neck. Harry was practically delirious. Draco was so close, so unbearably close. He could smell the man, and he wanted desperately to embrace him and cry and kiss and touch.

"You'll-… you don't want to do this," Harry managed to get out. Draco chuckled against Harry's neck, then kissed the skin wetly before replying.

"Are you trying to say I'll regret this in the morning? Don't worry, Harry, I never regret sex. Two people meeting and enjoying a little pleasure together, what's to regret?" His hand moved up and Draco pressed his palm against Harry's crotch. Harry turned away sharply, staggering to his feet and breathing heavily. He had frustrated tears in his eyes.

"I'm going to bed," he said. When he looked back at the couch he saw that Draco had toppled over and had fallen asleep across the couch. Harry pulled down the blanket that was over the back of the couch and lay it over the sleeping blond. He practically crawled back to his room and got in the bed. Once there he proceeded to cry himself to sleep. He could still feel Draco's touch, but none of them was really meant for him.

It wasn't fair, but Harry knew his life had never once been fair. It was pointless to expect it to start being that way now.

Chapter 10: Blood of the Enemy

Harry woke up with the worst hangover he had ever had, in both lives. He groaned loud enough to wake the dead. For a moment he just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, making sure he wouldn't throw up the second he rose. Eventually he thought he could manage and pushed himself up. He staggered out of the guestroom and to the bathroom. It was thankfully empty and he made use of it. Once back he rummaged through the dresser and found some muggle clothes he had bought recently. He pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, feeling refreshed with the change of clothes.

Checking himself in the mirror he was pleased to note that not even a night of falling asleep dead drunk had made his hair look as messy as it had in his past life. He combed it and tied it back as usual. Then he left in search of the others.

In the sitting room Ron sat reading the paper, and Harry thought he looked far too good for someone who had been drunk the night before. Draco wasn't there.

"Morning, mate," Ron said as he glanced over the paper. Harry thought his friend looked old with that expression and his wizard robes. He grunted in reply and flopped down on the couch. Ron folded his paper and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"What happened last night?" he asked seriously. Harry squinted at him, his brain taking twice as long to process the question. He wondered if he was still drunk.

"Nothing," he said when he understood. Ron snorted and rolled his eyes, but became serious again quickly.

"So the fact that Draco left in a hurry, barely grabbing a hangover potion on his way out, means that you two had a lovely chat and nothing more?"

"You've got anymore of those potions?" Harry asked, his insides churning, and not just from the hangover. Draco had left. He was gone and Harry didn't know when he would see him again.

"You'll get one as soon as you explain to me what happened," Ron said. Harry looked away from the redhead in chase his eyes betrayed something. Ron seemed to guess this. "Look at me." Harry turned weary green and bloodshot eyes to his friend. Ron sighed. "What happened?" he pressed.

"Nothing… I stopped it. Draco came on to me… he- he was kissing my neck- kept calling me Harry." For some reason tears were falling down his cheeks already. "He thought I was a stranger and yet he wanted to-… He called me Harry!" Harry hoped it was the hangover, because now he was bawling. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Ron was on the couch now, with an arm around him. Hermione's voice drifted over to them.

"Oh, dear, what's the matter?" She sat down on the other side of Harry and hugged him too.

"Draco…" Harry managed between sobs. Hermione didn't say anything more, but simply sat with him. Ron too seemed to realise nothing needed to be said either. After Harry had cried himself out Hermione took his hand and pressed a small bottle into his.

"Here, drink," she said. Harry gulped down the potion quickly and felt his head started to clear. As he regained his balance he also grew embarrassed. His friends seemed to realise this and Hermione whispered in his ear and she pressed a handkerchief into his hand. "It's ok, Harry. We know how hard it must be. You miss him desperately. To have him so close and yet unable to reach out to him must be terrible." Harry nodded numbly and began to wipe his face. He marvelled how mature Ron was when he didn't seem uncomfortable around his crying friend. With twins who liked to play pranks Harry supposed Ron must get a fair amount of tears in his home.

"I'm sorry," Harry managed weakly when his tears were gone.

"It's alright, mate," Ron assured him. "I would go stark raving mad if it was me."

"I… thank you."

"For what?" Hermione asked.

"For everything. For believing me, and for putting up with me."

"Believe us, mate," Ron said, snorting softly. "It's no trouble." Harry finally managed a small smile and Hermione pulled him up from the couch and into the kitchen for breakfast.

… Around two weeks later…

The Spirit was in good spirits! A follower had come to it at last. Not a very bright follower, but they had come. It had imparted the knowledge of the Enemy. It would be so easy! Go back to Britain! Find the Enemy, find the bones of the father! And bring it all here. The ritual must be completed. Then Voldemort would rise again, and this time there would be no Harry Potter to stop him! The blood of the one who had slain him would flow through his veins… Malfoy blood, the purest blood of all… yesssss-

"Harry! Harry, wake up!" Hermione's voice pierced through his dream and wrenched him into the land of the living. He choked and coughed, rolling to his side in case he threw up, but nothing came out. He felt hands rubbing his back.

"What happened, mate? You were screaming, kept repeating 'No' all the time," Ron said. Harry rolled onto his back and stared at his friends. His scar was prickling, or his birthmark rather, and his hand went up unconsciously to trace it. His friends' eyes widened. Hermione grabbed his hand.

"Let me see." He allowed her to study his forehead closely. "It's very faint… the connection is obviously not as strong, but Harry, you must remember that you no longer have Lily's protection. That was in your blood, but you don't have that blood in you anymore. You must be careful."

"I know what I have to do, Hermione…. Draco!" Harry sprang up from the bed, almost knocking Hermione over. "He wants Draco! Fuck! I was so stupid! I thought it was me all along. I thought all I had to do was wait for him to come to me, but he doesn't even know I'm alive!" He started pacing the room, Ron and Hermione looked on worriedly. "Whenever I remembered something from my dreams I kept seeing a grand building and the enemy inside, and I thought it was Hogwarts and that he knew I was in there somehow, but it's not me this time! It's Draco… and Malfoy Manor… he's the one who killed Voldemort this time… he's the enemy." Hermione looked shocked and horrified, she had taken Ron's hand in hers. Ron looked worriedly at Harry.

"Do you know if he's near?" he asked. Harry looked at them. It felt like the war all over again. But this time there was a younger generation to think about. He couldn't ask his friends to help him again; they had others that relied on them. He would die if he took Neville and Harold's parents away from them.

"I need to go get him… take him somewhere safe. Grimmauld Place is good. I'll put up extra wards. There's a servant helping Voldemort, it could be anyone. For all we know it could be Blaise and he's got access to the Manor, or-" My own father. Harry shook his head. "It's best if I take him somewhere no one would guess to look."

"You could use help setting up the extra wards," Hermione spoke up. "We could help you get the place secure and then go with you to the Manor. Merlin knows, Draco's not going to take your word for it." Ron nodded his agreement.

"Listen, guys-"

"Don't pull the whole 'going it alone' crap again! If two life-times wasn't enough to teach you it doesn't work on us then I might have to kill you myself so you can try learning it again!" Ron said fiercely. Harry blinked and Hermione nodded once determinedly.

"Right… let's go then." They all got ready quickly and were soon apparating to Grimmauld Place to make it secure. Harry hoped they still had time…

…

Harry, Ron and Hermione made Grimmauld Place as safe as possible, a virtual magical Fort Knox. Harry even looked up a few obscure spells from the Black library. When all was finished they left the house and Harry apparated them all to the end of the long drive up to Malfoy Manor.

"Shit, that's big," Ron said at the sight of the Manor before them. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You haven't been here before?" Harry asked, a little surprised. Ron shook his head.

"After the war, well, you know how he got. We tried to contact him, but he wouldn't have it. It's been better since Christmas. He wrote us a letter and we met a few times."

"He's doing wonders for Remus' Werewolf Foundation," Hermione supplied.

"But we have yet to be in there," Ron said, nodding.

"He said he had keyed to wards to let us in though," Hermione said.

"And I'm probably still allowed since I was here at Christmas," Harry concluded. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Once at the large double doors Harry decided to knock. The knocker was in the shape of a serpent, no shock there. Harry grabbed its tail and pounded twice, the sound echoing off inside the place. The door opened slowly and there stood Draco, his brow furrowed as he took in the people on his doorstep. Harry cleared his throat.

"Hi, Draco… we need to talk to you. It's very important," Harry said, seeing Hermione nod out of the corner of his eye. Draco still looks sceptical, but opened the door wider.

"What about?" he asked.

"We think you're in danger," Hermione blurted out suddenly. Harry groaned.

"What a way to put it 'Mione!" Ron yelled. Hermione huffed and ignored him.

"We can't take forever to explain," she said curtly. Draco was eyeing Harry suspiciously, as if he was sure it was all his idea.

"Draco," Harry began, staring into the silvery eyes. "We need you to come with us to Grimmauld Place. We think… someone's out to get you…"

"And who exactly would that be?" Draco asked dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"A Death Eater trying to resurrect Voldemort," Hermione stated.

"'Mione!" Harry cried exasperated. She just looked at him blankly as if to say: 'What?'.

"Ok… I'm closing the door now," Draco said, but Harry put his hand on the door to stop him.

"Please, Draco, you've got to listen. There is a Death Eater who believes that since Harry Potter didn't kill Voldemort that he can still be alive somewhere. He needs your blood to perform the same ritual he did last time."

"Really? And the fact that all the Death Eaters are dead or in Azkaban means nothing to you?" Draco looked at them, his expression clearly saying he thought them quite insane.

"Not all the Death Eaters were found out," Hermione tried. "There could still be ones in hiding…"

"Voldemort is dead. I killed him. I remember it well. Please, go away and leave me alone… I don't ever know you," he added with a scratching glare at Harry before slamming the door shut, almost breaking Harry's hand.

"Shit… now what?" Harry groaned.

"That didn't go as well as I'd hoped," Hermione mused. Ron and Harry gaped at her.

"You think!" Ron bellowed.

…

In the end Ron and Hermione went home, while Harry went back to Grimmauld Place. They couldn't force Draco to come with them, and could only hope Malfoy Manor had strong enough wards. Harry spent the evening pacing the entrance hall, repeatedly glancing at the door, praying that Draco would by some miracle change his mind and show up. He had the invisibility cloak in his pocket in case he had to use it quickly.

A pounding stopped him in his tracks. He almost jumped out of his shoes in shock, but managed to stumble over to the door instead. The pounding only stopped when he wrenched the door open. Draco grabbed him by the shoulders a second later. The blond looked deranged, his hair messy and robes stained with what smelled like tea.

"He's gone! She's taken him!" he cried. Harry blinked.

"Who?" he asked stupidly. Draco shook him hard.

"Cesare! He's gone! He's gone! She took him away! Pansy! The bitch's got him!" Harry was getting dizzy from the shaking so he grabbed Draco by the shoulders, his superior strength easily enough to hold the man still.

"Calm down, talk slowly. Explain," Harry said quickly. Draco sucked in a deep breath, and Harry gasped very faintly when tears started falling down the pale cheeks.

"I received a letter from Dumbledore a moment ago, asking if I could explain in more detail why my wife," he spat the word like it was a disease, "had taken our son out of school so suddenly today. He's gone! She's taken him!" Draco, the one who was usually in control, broke down completely at the thought of losing Cesare. If it wasn't for Harry's shock, followed closely by a cold rage directed at Pansy, he might be sobbing as well. As it was his hero instincts kicked in, and that meant leaving all weak emotions for later. Now was time for some Gryffindor action.

"Draco, do you have any idea where she might have taken him?" he demanded. Draco shook his head.

"She did it to hurt me, because I kicked her out. Where are Ron and Hermione?" Draco asked suddenly. "I need help. Ron's an Auror. He must help!"

"Yes, come in. We'll go down to the kitchen and I'll floo them." Harry led the distraught Draco downstairs and sat him down at the kitchen table. Draco stared numbly at the table-top while Harry used the floo. He seemed to be too distressed about his missing son to question why Harry was in Grimmauld Place, or anything really.

"Ron? Get Hermione and come through fast. Draco's here and Pansy's kidnapped Cesare-" Harry stopped short and didn't catch Ron's exclamation as he pulled out of the fire. 'Shit! Damn! Why didn't I see this?' he thought savagely. The blood of the enemy… Malfoy blood. Pansy was the Death Eater! She didn't have access to Draco anymore so she took Cesare because Draco's blood is in him! And now she was somewhere in some forest cooking up the Dark Lord! And she would need to cut Cesare to do it! Why hadn't he seen it! Harry felt protective rage fill him. Hermione and Ron came through in a burst of green flames.

"What's going on? Where has Pansy taken him?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"We don't know… but I have a theory," Harry said slowly. Ron and Hermione looked at him, and they realised it simultaneously.

"Do we know where he is?" Hermione asked, not referring to Cesare, but Voldemort. Harry shook his head. A forest somewhere in Europe, that was all he knew.

"I need to go to Hogwarts," Draco spoke up quietly, but firmly. "She could have mentioned something to someone… Cesare could have left a clue in his room. He's very smart, Slytherin. One of his dorm mates could have heard- I need to check." Harry studied the man he loved. Draco was determined, Harry could see it clearly. Perhaps it was worth a try? Harry nodded once and Draco rose from his seat. They all marched out of Grimmauld Place without a word and apparated to the outskirts of Hogwarts…

…

"There's nothing!" Draco yelled as he checked Cesare's bedside drawer one more time. They hadn't spoken to any teachers, students or Dumbledore yet, but Draco was still upset that there wasn't even a sign of struggle. Harry glanced around the second year Slytherin dorm. He was just about to agree when a voice spoke up from near his feet.

"Check under the bed!" Harry looked down and startled when he saw the pale green snake he remembered from last Halloween. What was its name? Dusa? Suddenly Hermione gasped, she had seen the snake.

"What's a snake doing in here? They aren't allowed as pets." Harry didn't answer her, but bent down and checked under the bed. The snake, apparently satisfied, slithered out of the room, Hermione jumping away.

A piece of parchment, probably swept under by accident, lay there. He picked it up and emerged, only to have it ripped out of his hand by Draco.

The blonde's eyes frantically scanned the parchment, his brow furrowing in confusion and a fair bit of anger as he read. The others looked at each other anxiously.

"What is this?" Draco asked, his eyes glancing over to where Harry used to sleep as Alex, and then he fixed Harry with a cold glare. "Care to explain?" Draco asked, handing over the parchment. Harry took it and realised it was a half-finished letter written by Cesare.

Dear Alex.

Why didn't you read my last letter? Why haven't you returned to Hogwarts this year? Is it because you didn't like it here? Didn't we make you feel welcome? Was it me?

I'm worried about you. The twins are worried too. We're still friends, but it's not the same without you. I don't have anyone in Slytherin, really. Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you get my last letter?

I do have one friend, but she's not really a friend. Dusa only comes down to talk when she feels like it, but it's still nice to talk to someone.

I almost wrote Father asking if he could find out why you left school, but I decided against it. I was so proud to tell him I had made a friend all on my own. He's always telling me to be confident, but I can't really pull it off, and I don't know what he would say if I complained I'd lost my-

There was no more. Harry felt a lump of cold guilt in his stomach. He hadn't gotten the letter because he hadn't been at home. His mother and father had perhaps discarded it, or perhaps the owl had never found him and therefore returned to Cesare without delivering it. Harry had never felt to horribly guilty in his life. He had forgotten to send a letter to his friends. He had been too busy getting things at Grimmauld Place ready, training, the excitement of knowing Ron and Hermione again. He had hardly thought of the twins or Cesare. And now the boy was gone somewhere with a mad woman.

"Well?" Draco demanded. Harry looked at him, without realising the tears in his eyes. It only seemed to make Draco more suspicious. "Where is your brother, Chris? Or Harry, or whoever you are!"

"Tell him," Hermione urged. Harry sent her a warning look.

"He deserves to know," Ron agreed suddenly.

"What? What is it?" Draco asked. Harry shook his head.

"Not now," he tried.

"Tell me!"

"Tell him!" Ron shouted.

"Shut up!" Harry yelled. They fell quiet. Harry looked at Draco with trepidation. His record with telling people was shaky, and this time meant the most. He looked into Draco's eyes and sent up a silent prayer.

"Alex Rosén isn't in school because I'm Alex Rosén," he began. Draco frowned in thought, but didn't interrupt. "Draco, you're son is with Pansy because she is trying to resurrect Voldemort, like we told you."

"Voldemort is dead," Draco protested. Harry spoke over him.

"Voldemort was destroyed, like last time, but he didn't die. Do you remember the prophecy, Draco? It said only Harry Potter could kill the Dark Lord. The fact is that you cast the Killing Curse, and therefore you should have known it wasn't the end. And it wasn't the end of Harry Potter either…," here Harry took a deep breath, while Ron and Hermione seemed to be holding in theirs, "Harry Potter was reborn Alex Rosén. So that he could finish the job. I am the one who has to take him out, simply because it was meant to be… I'm Harry Potter."

Dead silence followed. Draco simply stared at Harry, who wondered if he would sob like Hermione or drag him to Dumbledore like Snape. Perhaps he would simply refuse to listen like Elisabeth?

Draco didn't do any of those things. Instead he pulled back his fist and punched Harry right in the face. Harry staggered backwards, his hand going up to clutch his nose, hopefully not broken, but bleeding heavily.

"You bastard!" Draco had gripped the front of Harry's robe, but before the blond could land another punch he was dragged away by Ron, who had his arms around the smaller man's waist. "You sick, twisted, bastard! My son is missing and you tell me something like that! Let me go! I want to kill him with my bare hands!" Draco thrashed against Ron.

"Draco, shut up and listen! It's for real!" Ron yelled. Hermione drew her wand and waved it at Harry's nose. It stopped bleeding and Harry nodded his thanks. He gazed resignedly at Draco.

"Fuck you, Weasley! You don't know shit! Reborn! What kind of crap is that?"

"Draco," Harry tried softly. He was ignored. "Draco, LISTEN!" The blond seemed to shut up at least. He was still being restrained by Ron, and glaring death at his former lover, but at least he was silent. Harry took advantage of it. He didn't know why he went for that particular memory, but it seemed like the only thing that could possibly convince Draco. It was the first thing he thought of, and the most intense memory he had.

"Draco, remember our last time together, at Grimmauld Place? I can't recall where the others were, but I remember you and me in my bed… we made love, don't you remember? And it was amazing. We were both scared it would be our last time together. It was like-… like we were one, and two at the same time, and right there, yet somewhere else as well. And the air was so thick, full of something, and it didn't feel like we were making love, but like we were-"

"Making magic," Draco finished dazedly. His eyes were filled with tears again. Ron let him go easily when he stepped towards Harry, grey eyes never leaving green. He drew in a shuddering breath. "There is one way to be sure…" Draco put a hand at the back of Harry's head and pulled the taller man down. Harry felt Draco's lips pressed against his and it was so painfully wonderful and shocking that it took a second for him to react. When he did he kissed back like a drowning man gulping air. He had no idea if he was kissing like Harry Potter. All he knew was that Draco was in his arms again and they were kissing passionately as if nothing bad had ever happened.

"Oh my god," Draco sobbed when they parted. "It can't be, please, don't lie… don't-… please, let it be true." He hung onto the front of Harry's robe. Harry let silent tears fall as he held Draco to him, the blond sobbing and practically clawing at Harry as if to make sure he didn't suddenly disappear. Ron and Hermione tactfully left the room to give them a moment, but Harry knew they didn't really have a moment. Cesare was still out there with Pansy!

"Draco," Harry whispered into the soft blond hair. It was a little strange, being the taller one, but far from unpleasant. He stroked the platinum locks. "Draco… I love you so much, but we can't do this now. We need to remain calm. Cesare is still in need of our help." Draco stiffened in Harry's arms. He lifted his head slowly and gazed at Harry.

"Harry… it's really you?" Harry nodded. "And you love me?" Again Harry nodded. Draco swallowed. "I love you too, but you're right. We'll have time for that later… will you help me find Cesare?"

"Of course."

"Pansy could be anywhere…" Draco said miserably.

"They just let her take him out of school?" Harry felt the sudden need to ask. Another thing to confront Dumbledore about when the time was right.

"Well, she is still my wife," Draco said, looking away from Harry. "I haven't gotten around to the divorce. I thought for sure she would go to the papers with the story-…" Draco abruptly looked up at Harry, his eyes wide. "My wife! She's my wife!" he exclaimed. Harry frowned, not sure what to think about that statement.

"Yeah, I know," he settled for saying. Draco rolled his eyes.

"No, silly. I hate her guts, but she's still my wife! I think I read somewhere in my youth about a Malfoy family spell. To locate reluctant brides who ran away, before or after the ceremony. The spell should be in the library at the Manor." Draco stepped back from Harry. He was almost vibrating with excitement.

"But she didn't exactly run away…" Harry felt the need to point out.

"No… but I think I can make the spell work. It's worth a try, isn't it?" Draco asked. Harry nodded. Cesare was worth anything. They hurried out of the room to inform Ron and Hermione of their plan.

Chapter 11: Flesh of the Servant

Harry, Ron and Hermione were all standing around Draco, trying to read over the man's shoulder as he read through the spell. It was in a very old book, so heavy Draco couldn't hold it and had to levitate it up on the desk in the library. They were all nervous and a little afraid. Every second that passed meant more time for Pansy to complete the potion.

"Right," Draco said decisively. "We'll need a map…. I think there's an atlas somewhere…" He pushed his way passed Hermione and went for one of the many bookcases. He quickly found what he was looking for, the book nearly as large as the first one, though not as thick. He brought it over and slammed it down on the desk, rifling through it until he came to a map of Europe. They gathered around Draco, Harry on the other side of the desk, thinking it wise to keep his distance until further notice. Ron was beside him and Hermione stood beside Draco.

"Ok," Draco said, eyes never leaving the map. "Be quiet. Let me concentrate." He drew his wand and waved it in a complicated pattern, the Latin incantation long and song-like, ending on a sharp note that somehow promised retribution. The moment he finished a beam of red light shot from his wand and landed on the map, the beam gathering into a red pinprick. All four of them frowned in confusion at the location.

"That's Wiltshire. She's still here?" Hermione asked. Draco looked pensive for a moment, and then abruptly blushed crimson.

"Nono, eh, she's not here. I did it wrong. Let me try again," Draco said quickly.

"What do you mean? What did it find if it didn't find your wife?" Hermione pressed, obviously not able to drop the subject. Draco was still blushing.

"Draco?" Harry asked, now a little worried. The blond sighed and kept his eyes on the map.

"This spell isn't made for this kind of situation… I didn't concentrate properly, so it found the person I most desired to be my… bride, eh- well, groom." It took half a second for Harry to get it and then a lumos went off inside his head. The person Draco most desired as a husband was in Wiltshire, right where they were. Harry should know this already, but it stilled filled him with warmth. Draco was already performing the spell again, however, and now was not the time to dwell on such things. Again the red light shot out and this time landed quite far away.

"Its in the middle of nowhere in Albania… we need a more detailed map," Draco said.

"We'll go to Albania first," Harry suggested. "They'll have a detailed map. We need a portkey, it's fastest." Draco nodded and summoned what looked like a bust of Artemis from the mantel. "What are you doing?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Making a portkey. What do you think I've been doing since Christmas?" Draco inquired with a raised eyebrow at Harry. "Rebuilding my reputation. Being a Malfoy and the Defeater of Voldemort has its perks. I'm one of the few who has a standing permission to create a portkey any time I want." Harry was impressed, but no one had time to comment before Draco had murmured the spell. "Right, it should take us to the Albanian Ministry. It'll go off in ten seconds so I suggest you all hold on." They all scrambled to touch the bust in the centre of the table. Harry's fingers brushed Draco's and their gazes locked before they were all whisked away across Europe.

…

"This is going to take forever!" Draco cried as they flew over the trees. After coming to the Albanian Ministry, where they weren't too happy about unscheduled portkeys in their territory, had quickly calmed down once Ron, as an official Auror, had explained the situation. They had gained sympathy, but the local Ministry wasn't keen of actually helping. They had provided a map and a set of brooms; that was all.

Now the four of them had narrowed the location down to a certain forest area not far from a remote village, but it was still a needle in a haystack as far as Draco was concerned. Pansy had set up several protection charms so she was immune to a point me spell or summoning. Lucky for them she wasn't even aware of the bride finding spell. Draco kept repeating it, now only using it similar to the point-me spell because they didn't have a more detailed map. It pointed in her general direction.

"This way," he said. The group turned together, Hermione on the back of Ron's broom since she didn't fly well. They shirted the treetops, all eyes scanning the ground for any signs of magic. Harry's heart was beating frantically. 'Come on, Ces, where are you?' he pleaded inside his mind. He kept imagining the boy crying and scared, and it made his blood run cold and boil at the same time.

"Over there in the clearing!" Hermione hissed suddenly, pointing over Ron's shoulder to a clearing a way off. They could see a light from a cauldron fire.

"Let's land here and sneak up on foot," Harry said and they all descended. The moment they touched the ground they left their brooms and moved into the forest. They crept as silently as possible. Harry thought they would be discovered at any moment because Pansy could surely hear his heartbeat.

"Stop!" Hermione hissed suddenly. "Any closer and we'll trip the wards!" Even though Harry couldn't hear her he didn't move. He was frozen as he finally caught sight of the clearing. In the middle stood a large cauldron, beside which stood Pansy. She was holding a bloody dagger aloft, the blood dripping down into the potion. Her face was a grimace of smug madness. There was also an empty chest, with only remnants of earth in it, having obviously been used to carry something dirty. A few feet away stood a small cage and inside, just like out of a fairy tale with a witch and a captured young boy, sat Cesare. He was clutching his arm, which was bleeding heavily from where Pansy had cut, and sobbing. It tore at Harry's heart to hear. In the next second his ears were pieced by another sound: a war-cry from Draco.

"Stupefy!" the blond shouted as he ran through the trees. It was too soon and Pansy had time to duck behind the cauldron. The blast of red hit it, but it was too heavy with potion, and it only wobbled a bit. By that time the others were moving in after Draco.

"Avada Kedavra!" Pansy pointed her wand randomly from her hiding place. A green light barrelled towards Harry's left. He heard Hermione scream and Ron grunt as he barely managed to fling himself to the side.

"Stupefy!" Hermione yelled angrily in reply. Pansy apparated away just as Draco rounded the cauldron. Hermione's spell sloshed the potion about again. Harry came up to Draco's side. All four of them turned around and around, scanning between the trees for any signs of her. A crack was heard-

"There!" Cesare cried.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry only had time to turn and see green in front of him before he was blasted away by a spell from his side. His head hit the ground forcefully. The green flew over his body and dissipated in the trees.

"You'll pay for that! Stupefy!" Draco screamed, but Pansy popped away again before the red blast hit her. She reappeared again by the cauldron, but this time Draco whipped around faster than a snitch.

"Sectumsempra!" he slashed his wand savagely. Pansy let out a horrid cry of anguish when the curse hit her. She toppled over, a bloody mess. It took a moment for everyone to realise the threat was gone. Hermione went over to Pansy while Harry and Draco both ran to the cage and fell to their knees.

"I knew you'd come!" Cesare cried. The moment Harry got the cage open the boy had launched himself into Draco's arms. Father and son hugged tightly.

"Thank Merlin," Draco murmured, his eyes squeezed shut. Harry wanted to hug them both, but didn't want to intrude. "That's it! What did I tell you? I knew you should have been home-schooled!"

"But Father, Pansy could have kidnapped me from the Manor just as easily."

"Not if I kicked her out!" Draco growled. Cesare pulled away slightly so he could look his father in the eye.

"How do you know that you would have kicked her out then? You can't know what would have happened if you changed one fact. You're not a Seer, Father," he pointed out reasonably. Draco rolled his eyes.

"You're too smart for your own good," he said with mock-severity, but Harry could tell he wasn't relaxed. He was holding Cesare tightly and shaking from the adrenaline high.

"She needs a medi-witch," Hermione spoke up from Pansy's side in an emotionless tone. "I've patched her up as best I can."

"Can you see to his arm?" Draco said as let go of Cesare and held up the boy's cut arm carefully. Hermione quickly came over and spelled the cut clean and healed it fairly easily.

"It wasn't deep," she said when Cesare praised her work.

"Hermione," Draco said as he stood up. "Could you take Cesare home and stay with him until we get back?" She looked at him, about to argue, but something in his eyes must have convinced her not to. She nodded and Draco summoned a branch from nearby. Just as he created a portkey Cesare finally took a good look at Harry.

"Alex!" he exclaimed. "You're big!" Harry couldn't help a relieved laugh from escaping him. The tension from the short battle draining away.

"We'll explain later," Draco said sternly. "Go with Hermione." The witch held out her hand and Cesare reluctantly took it.

"My sneakoscope!" he remembered suddenly. "Pansy took it!"

"I'll get it," Draco promised just in time before they disappeared.

"We can't leave here without taking care of Voldemort," Harry said at once.

"Agreed," Draco said. "Hopefully Pansy won't die until she has been useful to us."

"I'll make sure her death isn't investigated too much when we get back," Ron said. "The word of an Auror along with a Malfoy should stop any unwanted questions." Draco nodded his thanks, then eyed the cauldron. His eyes briefly scanned the tree line before he walked over to Pansy. She lay bloody on the ground, twitching occasionally and moaning softly in pain. Draco pointed his wand at her heart.

"Where is he? And mark my words, your life depends on your answer." She struggled to speak, but there was no hesitation to betray her Lord for her life. She couldn't have heard them speaking about her imminent death and that they had no intention to try and save her.

"He's in the forest!" she gasped. "He's in a snake!" Draco poked her painfully with his wand and she cried out.

"Why? Why isn't he here with the potion?"

"I think-… he's weaker this time," Pansy moaned pitifully. "He can't fight the snake's instincts. He needed to hunt. I was to send up a flare when the potion was ready. Please! Help me!" Draco sneered at her and turned away. He didn't look back as he walked over to Ron and Harry, the latter wondering silently if Voldemort's state had anything to do with the fact that he didn't have anymore horcruxes.

"So we just send up a flare, he comes to us, and Harry kills him," Ron surmised. Draco stared at Harry; an eternity seemed to pass as those grey eyes were fixed on him. He couldn't read what was going on in Draco's mind, but only drown in those eyes that finally held recognition of who he was.

"No," Draco said, looking away to Ron. "I'm not taking any chances. Quirrell died and Voldemort survived it. He needs his own body. We must finish the potion. All it needs is the flesh of the servant." Even as he spoke Draco walked over to the cauldron and checked the contents.

"So we cut off her hand?" Ron asked. "That's what Wormtail did, isn't it?"

"It needs to be given willingly," Harry reminded him. "And I don't think Pansy will oblige us."

"I don't think she can, mate," Ron said, nodding towards the body of the witch. "I think she's dead." They all looked at Pansy. She was almost entirely covered in blood, the great gashes only partly closed by Hermione. Her eyes and mouth were open, the expression ghastly on the completely white and bloodless face, except for where a thick trickle of blood flowed out from the corner of her mouth. It's flood stopped as they watched. Harry hoped Cesare hadn't looked at her too closely. Seeing his own father kill his mother would surely scar him…

"Do you have the invisibility cloak?" Draco asked. Harry tore his eyes away from the mangled body. He nodded. "Then I will give the flesh of the servant."

"What?" Ron and Harry exclaimed at the same time. Draco rolled up his sleeve.

"I still have the Dark Mark. If I willingly give my flesh it should work fine. Ron, you'll take Pansy and go to the Ministry and start explaining. She had many friends in high places so her death will be well publicised. Harry, Voldemort will surely feel your presence so you'll hover a good distance away on your broom. I'll finish the potion, hide under the cloak and send up a second flare when he's in. You'll fly in and-"

"No," Harry protested. Ron remained silent. "You can't cut off your hand!"

"I thought a finger would suffice," Draco remarked dryly.

"No. That's-"

"The only way to be sure in case he knows he's untouchable as a spirit… parasite. This is my fight as well. We do this according to my plan this time-"

"Your plan?" Harry asked sarcastically, raising his eyebrows. "If you had just followed my plan the last time we wouldn't even be here!" The words tumbled out of him before he could stop them.

"You blame me for your death, then?" Draco's face was a complete blank.

"No, no of course not," Harry hastily denied, and it was true. He knew Draco could do it, but that didn't mean he needed to like the idea. "No one can predict the future… accurately. It is your fight as well. You have a right to do this… and you had the right to be there the last time… I'm sorry." Draco nodded once, summoned a rock, and created a portkey to the British Ministry. He sent it over to Pansy's body. Before Ron could touch it, however, Draco remembered something.

"Accio sneakoscope." The gift soared over to him and he pocketed it before nodding once to Ron, who took hold of the portkey and Pansy, and then disappeared.

The two left stepped up to the cauldron. Harry took out the cloak and laid it on the ground so Draco would have it ready. The blond conjured a sharp knife, not wanting to use the same dagger as Pansy that lay in the grass somewhere, and held his pale hands over the cauldron.

"Which one, do you think?" he asked, holding up his left hand, the knife poised at the ready in his right.

"I dunno," Harry muttered, feeling a little sick. He accio'd one of the broomsticks while Draco thought it over.

"Not my ring finger," he murmured so softly Harry almost didn't catch it. "The little one then," he said louder. He took a deep breath. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!" he proclaimed, in a much steadier voice than Wormtail had all those years ago, and cut. He didn't make a sound until the finger had splashed into the potion.

"Fuck!"

"Get under the cloak," Harry said. Draco murmured a charm to stop the bleeding and got the cloak even as Harry took to the skies. He saw the sparks fly up after him. Flying in the same direction they had come he was sure Voldemort wasn't anywhere near him since he hadn't felt the bastard's presence before. He waited anxiously, concentrating on his birthmark in case he detected the smallest tingling.

After about ten minutes, which felt like forever, red sparks that Harry could only describe as desperate were shot into the air. He zoomed away faster perhaps than he had ever flown. With seeker's reflexes he managed to avoid crashing and jumped off the broom a few feet from the cauldron just in time to see the creature that was known as Voldemort rise from its depths. It was his forth year all over again, only this time he was ready and they had all been there to save the innocent before Voldemort could kill that which was no longer of use to him.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry yelled. The thing made a startled half gurgling, half screech. The sound pierced Harry's ears like a dagger. Then the creature fell back into the potion. It hadn't even had time to look at them. Draco appeared out of nowhere from the cloak and strode up to the cauldron. He preformed the spell to clean it. It was empty. Harry's hand had gone up unconsciously to his forehead. It was like a pressure he hadn't noticed before was suddenly gone and he felt lighter.

"He's gone," he whispered, feeling slightly dazed. Draco looked at him and nodded.

"I had to levitate him into it. The snake was quite startled, but I was quick…. Let's go home." He summoned another branch and created a portkey to Malfoy Manor. He held out one end to Harry, who grabbed it. They stared at each other until Harry felt a pull at his navel…

Chapter 12: The Prodigal Father Returns

Harry, graceful as ever, landed on his arse the moment they arrived in the entrance hall of the Manor. When he looked up Draco was holding out a helping hand. Harry gratefully allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, ending up standing rather close to Draco…

"Oh, good, I thought I heard you," Hermione sighed with relief as she hurried over to them. "Cesare's in the drawing room. Is everything ok? Where's Ron?"

"He's at the Ministry doing damage control and making sure I don't go to Azkaban for using a Dark curse and killing my wife," the last was spat out as a profanity. "Voldemort's dead," he added. Hermione sighed again.

"Good. I'll head home then, or maybe to the Ministry to help Ron. I'm sure you want to be alone." She hugged and kissed Harry on the cheek, repeating the gesture with Draco, before leaving out the front door.

"I should go too. You and Ces-"

"Don't you dare," Draco cut Harry off harshly. He grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him to the drawing room. He let go a moment later when Cesare was once again in his arms.

"Is she dead?" Cesare asked once the two had parted. Draco nodded. The boy glanced at Harry before looking curiously at his father. "Should I feel bad?" he asked in a rather childish voice. Harry almost gaped. He knew that even if there was a chance his own father had Dark Lord sympathies he would never wish the man dead, or even hurt.

"I think you should feel the way you feel," Draco responded. "Come, let's sit down, we have a lot of explaining to do." They all settled on the couches, Harry somehow ending up beside Cesare while Draco sat across from them. Cesare was now staring openly at Alex. "I have your sneakoscope," Draco remarked, pulling out the device from his pocket and handing it over.

"A lot of good it did!" Cesare grumbled, but he looked very pleased to have it back.

"How did she get you out?" Draco asked. "I assume you didn't go willingly."

"Of course not!" Cesare cried indignantly, then in a small voice; "She used Imperius."

"Why that-…!" Draco stopped himself from swearing. He took a deep breath. "Then it wasn't your fault," he said firmly. Cesare nodded and then went back to staring at Harry.

"Why are you old?" he asked. Harry looked to Draco for an explanation. He didn't know how much Draco wanted his son to know. Draco seemed to understand Harry's predicament and addressed Cesare.

"Do you know what reincarnation means?" he inquired. Harry was inwardly surprised that Draco wanted his son to know the whole story. Why did Cesare need to know he was Harry Potter?

"Yeah, that's when muggles believe your soul goes into another body after you're dead, right?" Cesare said, turning it into a question at the end.

"In a nutshell, yes," Draco continued. "Well, it seems Alex here has actually experienced it, and therefore chose to age himself since he still had all his memories from his past life and… he had a few things to do that required him to be of age."

"Oh," Cesare said, looking from one grown-up to the other as if waiting for the punch line. When no one said anything he raised his eyebrows. "So, who were you before? What did you have to do?" Again Harry looked to Draco, whose lips suddenly quirked up a bit.

"He needed to destroy Voldemort."

"You mean Pansy wasn't crazy? He was really out there?" Cesare gaped. Draco nodded.

"That's because only one man could truly kill him… Harry Potter." Now Cesare's jaw was almost to the floor. He gaped at Harry, who tried not to look sheepish. He settled for shrugging and trying for a friendly smile. Draco was smiling softly too now. Cesare glanced once more at his father to make sure, then his gape turned into a grin as he looked up eagerly at Harry.

"You mean, all this time, my best friend was really my-"

"Cesare," Draco interrupted. Harry's brow furrowed slightly. "Come here." Cesare wordlessly got up and stood in front of his father, who sat on the couch, but not before throwing a knowing grin over his shoulder at Harry. Draco then pulled out his wand, but unlike the first time Harry had seen him do this, Cesare didn't tense up at all. Draco cast a revealing charm on his son's face, though Harry couldn't see what was revealed before Cesare turned around. When the boy did Harry gasped.

There, right in front of Draco, stood Cesare, but he didn't have the exact same grey eyes of his father, eyes that turned silver when filled with emotion. His eyes were now a perfect emerald green, seemingly shining outwards, the effect due perhaps to his blond hair.

"How?" Harry asked, completely at a loss as to what it meant. Draco put a hand on Cesare's shoulder when the boy moved to speak.

"Sit down, Cesare, let me explain things first." The boy looked over at his father and smiled before going to sit beside Harry again at a respectful distance. Harry stared at the boy with bright green eyes so like his own, so like Lily. He only looked up at Draco when the man coughed to get his attention.

"I think it's best if I start from the beginning," he said. Harry nodded mutely in agreement. "Ever since… well, since always, people who enjoyed the company of the same sex haven't been… tolerated in the wizarding world. Our numbers have always been few and when people "choose" not to procreate, well… you can imagine how fanatic some people can be." Draco paused as Harry's mind conjured up the likes of Pansy.

"Then, although I don't know when exactly, two wizards managed to conceive and have a child. According to the story they were determined to appease they parents' demand for children, and they were also very much in love. Since then it has been possible for two males to do this when their magic is desperate and their love is strong. Unfortunately, instead of this being revered as the magical achievement of all time, it was considered, for lack of a better term, cheating."

"Cheating?" Harry repeated incredulously, completely dazed by the amount of information. Draco nodded solemnly.

"Yes, a way for an unnatural union to cheat the natural order of things. The governing parties labelled it Dark Magic and children with such parents were treated little better than werewolves. It is really quite sad, for a child with two fathers must necessarily have the most loving of parents because the magic demands it to work."

"But that's horrible!" Harry exclaimed. Cesare had been looking down at his hands, but now he looked up and smiled. Draco smiled too, a touch of sadness in it.

"Yes, it is. The laws have changed in later times, because the Ministry can't bring themselves to punish innocent children anymore, but the views are still widely held, even amongst muggleborns who learn of it…" Draco sighed suddenly and ducked his head. "That is why I married Pansy. The only reason. She was practically throwing herself at me, having gotten it into her head that with you gone I had no reason not to like her. When she found out I was with child…"

Draco looked up again, his gaze amused. "Well, she wasn't exactly happy. She vowed never to touch me again and not to have any children of her own. She did not, however, want to divorce me. I was the Defeater of Voldemort, was being the key word now." Draco chuckled. "She wouldn't allow the scandal. And she therefore made me promise make sure everybody believed Cesare was her child. Therefore I had to hide his true eye colour, since anyone who knew I had been with you right before Pansy, and knew that such unions were possible could have made the connection. I would of course indulge myself when we were alone at home." Draco smiled knowingly at his son, who grinned back. "I made sure he knew the truth. I didn't want him ashamed of where he came from. He came from our love." At this the two Malfoys looked at Harry, who looked as if he had been swept up by a sudden wind. Draco had gotten pregnant thanks to him!

"But-… but there's one thing I don't get…" Harry began uncertainly. "You said the men in the story were determined, or desperate, to make children, but I don't remember even discussing it. How…?" Draco smiled sadly.

"Because we thought it was our last time together, and technically it was. Our magic, probably mostly mine since yours was most likely kamikaze at that point-" Harry grunted in amusement and rolled his eyes. Draco ignored him and continued right on. "Felt the need to procreate, to express our love. And so, weeks later when I realised what had happened, I said yes to Pansy. We stayed at our château in France and didn't come back until long after he was born so no one would suspect."

"So…" Harry looked over at Cesare. "You're… my son?" Cesare grinned and nodded. Harry couldn't find any words to describe what he felt. He already loved Cesare dearly, and to find out this… it was unbelievable. Instead of speaking he opened his arms and Cesare jumped into them. Harry hugged the boy who had been like the little brother he had never had, and he could only feel giddiness at the news. He had a son! A beautiful, loving, adorable, polite and, in Harry's eyes, perfect son with the man he loved. He looked down at Cesare, who looked up with his arms still around his other father. Harry didn't realise he had tears in his eyes. A sudden thought occurred to him.

"Parseltongue!" he exclaimed with a laugh. Cesare looked puzzled for a moment and then he laughed too.

"Oh, yeah," he laughed. "That's were I got it."

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked sharply. The pair looked over at him.

"I'm a parseltongue, Father," Cesare said, then grew wide-eyed. "I can tell him! Her spell doesn't work anymore!"

"Spell? What's this about?"

"Pansy put a spell on me so I couldn't tell you I was a parseltongue." Draco had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly to keep from swearing. He opened them once he was composed again.

"I think it's time to go to bed," he declared. "We can talk all about this, and other things, tomorrow. You can sleep in since it's so late. We won't go back to Hogwarts until we've talked it all through." Cesare was ready to protest, but at the pointed look from his father he reluctantly got up from the couch and hugged Draco goodnight. Then he turned to Harry with a shy smile.

"Al- erm, I mean," he began uncertainly.

"How about Dad?" Harry tried, overwhelmed again with giddiness. Cesare grinned and hugged Harry tightly.

"That's perfect! Goodnight Dad!"

"Goodnight son," Harry whispered. He watched Cesare leave the room and let a sigh of happiness escape him. When he finally looked back at Draco the man was staring at him intently.

"So," Harry said. There was still so much to say, so much to discuss, but it could perhaps wait until the morning...?

"So," Draco repeated and rose from the couch. Harry did the same. Slowly they moved towards each other and then they were chest to chest. Draco looked up at Harry, his lips quirking. "It's a bit odd, looking up instead of down," he remarked. Harry slid his arms around Draco's waist, now the thinner of the two.

"But not unpleasant?" Harry said, turning it into a question. Draco slid his hands up and around Harry's neck, playing with the ponytail, then loosening the tie and carding his fingers through the black locks.

"No, not unpleasant at all," Draco whispered. The blonde's fingers running through Harry's hair suddenly had him remembering something.

"Your hand," he said, taking hold of Draco's left wrist. The little finger was gone, and only a tiny bloody stump remained, but it wasn't bleeding.

"I have a potion that will heal it properly," Draco said, drawing his wand and murmuring a summoning spell. A moment later and he had a small bottle in his hand. He drank it down and cast a cleaning spell on his finger. As it healed and the excess blood disappeared it didn't look so bad. Hardly noticeable, really, Harry thought.

"Merlin…" Draco said, looking with a grimace at his four-fingered hand. Harry took hold of it quickly and kissed it all over.

"You're still perfect," he breathed over the palm, causing Draco to shiver. Harry leaned down and captured Draco's lips with his own. Both men sighed with contentment and the kiss remained chaste and sweet for a long time. Then, slowly, Draco tilted his head more and opened his mouth slightly. Harry let his tongue glide over to meet Draco's and it was like an electric shock of pleasure. They moaned simultaneously, deepening the kiss and exploring old territory, well, old for Harry, but for Draco Harry's mouth would be different. Still, Draco didn't seem fazed by that, instead he made sure he knew Harry's "new" mouth just as well very quickly.

"Do you think we should wait?" Harry managed to get out when they parted, just barely.

"Merlin, no, I want you," Draco moaned. "Please, I need you." Harry nodded and went in for another deep kiss. Suddenly Harry felt a tightness all over and he lost the feeling of Draco's lips on his for a split second. Then they were back and when Harry opened his eyes he realised Draco had apparated them to his bedroom. The room held no sign of ever being shared with a woman. It was Draco through and through with Slytherin green the dominant colour, or perhaps more emerald green, Harry mused silently.

"Hey," Draco tilted his head to the side in a contemplative gesture, "How old are you? Physically I mean."

"Twenty," Harry replied.

"Why twenty?"

"Seemed like a nice round number. I didn't want to turn the exact age that I died, and I somehow didn't feel ready to just jump all the way to thirty," Harry shrugged. Draco chuckled.

"So, you're my young lover," he said playfully, leaning in to kiss along Harry's jaw and down his neck. "You taste amazing," he breathed against Harry's skin. "Do you know that physically I'm a decade older than you?" Harry swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"That's not all I know," he said, his voice lower with arousal. "I'm also a virgin," he breathed. Draco stopped short and raised his head, looking shocked and excited at the same time.

"You mean…?"

"I was physically twelve up until a few months ago, since then I haven't exactly had the time, or the desire, to be with anyone," Harry explained in a calm voice he didn't know he possessed. He didn't know why it mattered, he wasn't a virgin mentally, but the thought of having a first time with Draco was a big turn on. Draco seemed of the same mind. He pulled Harry's head down and kissed him desperately. Harry returned it with equal passion.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco moaned as they broke apart slightly. Harry leaned down to nibble at Draco's pale neck. "I can't decide what to do. It's too much. I might die of pleasure and happiness." Harry couldn't agree more, but he also couldn't help but say:

"No one's dying this time. We're growing old together now."

"Yes," Draco breathed, a tear escaping the corner of his eye. Harry went back to sucking Draco's tongue. The next time the broke away they were both panting and very much aroused. "I want you to fuck me," Draco finally decided. "No one has fucked me since you." Harry moaned at the words. He started unbuttoning Draco's outer robe. He worked as fast as he could while still kissing Draco all over. He felt like a hormone filled teenager… well, physically he wasn't far off. They kicked off their shoes and socks at the same time, clutching at each other so as not to stumble.

Finally pale skin like marble was exposed to him and he marvelled how Draco could look so ethereal. Draco had always had more muscle than Harry had, in his past life that is. Now Harry was not only slightly taller, but a little broader as well. He couldn't help but enjoy the switch. He felt as if he had finally come home, and that now he could be there and take care of Draco to make up for all the lost time. He felt so guilty, but that was probably a Harry Potter trait he couldn't get rid of.

"Let me see you," Draco said, his deft fingers starting on Harry's robe, but the eager Gryffindor couldn't wait and simply lifted the robe over and tossed it aside. He was now clad on only white cotton boxers, and those he swiftly got rid of as well. Draco looked at him with eyes filled with desire, and Harry was very relieved his "new" body wouldn't be a problem in the bed department. Draco reached out as let his fingertips trail the outline of his defined abdomen. Harry's eyes fluttered close as Draco stepped closer again and started touching him everywhere, as if to memorise his body with touch.

"You're so much bigger," Draco commented softly. "It's like… your outside fits your inside now." Harry opened his eyes and quirked a questioning eyebrow at Draco, who couldn't keep the faint blush off his cheeks. "Well, I-… you're my Gryffindor Lion," he mumbled.

Harry couldn't wait any longer. A naked Draco Malfoy, blushing of all things, standing right in front of him was too much. He kissed Draco hard once before leading the blond to the bed. They ripped off the covers and Draco pulled Harry down on top of him. Harry covered Draco's body with his own, loving the feel of all that skin under him, so ready to be touched.

(FROM THIS POINT ON THIS SCENE IS SENSORED. My livejournal has the whole thing. I only let you read what they are saying and stuff. So it's not too graphic)

"I'll go slow," Harry promised, awed by the sight before him.

Draco was awed by the sensations as well, and through it all was the realisation of who was doing this to him. Harry felt it too.

"Oh, yes," Draco moaned. "Been-… so long. Want you, all of you."

"You have me," Harry promised reverently.

"Love you… always you," Draco whispered.

"Never anyone else," Harry agreed. They locked eyes, and Harry thought he would come just from Draco's gaze, hazy with lust, but also filled with love and longing.

Draco was clutching at him in the same way he had when he had first found out Alex was Harry, as if he was afraid his love would vanish.

Their skin was glistening with sweat by this point, the moonlight streaming through the window made them shimmer. Their long hair, blond and black, was wild, Draco's coating the pillow in a waiflike halo, while Harry's slightly thicker locks hung around his face and tickled Draco's skin. If anyone had seen them they would have thought the scene quite beautiful.

Harry never wanted it to end, but felt his passion mounting quickly and he desperately wanted to get to that high while inside Draco. Soon they were both reaching that high and collapsing in a pile of limbs.

"Holy Merlin… That was…" Harry said, at a loss for words. "I remember your smell best," he breathed.

"Mmm," Draco murmured. "You don't smell the same, but somehow your touch is still the same. You certainly fuck me the same way. If that's not proof enough of your identity then I don't know what is." Harry chuckled and lifted his head so he could look at his love.

"So, I was rather proficient for a virgin, then?" he asked innocently. Draco snorted.

"Yes, I suppose for a virgin it wasn't half bad… and I'm looking forward to fucking that virgin arse of yours… tomorrow." Harry sighed contently, looking forward to that himself, and shifted so all his weight wasn't on the man under him. Suddenly Draco pushed him all the way onto his back and curled up next to him. They wrapped their arms around each other.

"We made magic," Harry suddenly whispered, remembering their last time before his death.

"Yes," Draco agreed. "We made a perfect little boy." Harry hadn't known before that it was possible to feel so utterly happy. He snuggled closer to his lover, never wanting to let go again. Harry could see it then, he knew it as surely as if he were a Seer: That they would live, and die, together this time.

"Welcome home," was the last thing Harry heard before he fell asleep, his night untroubled by bad dreams of any kind.

Chapter 13: Telling Your Folks You're Gay and Twenty

"Harry?" The sleepy Saviour of the wizarding world burrowed deeper into the bed and closer to the warm body next to him. Everything was soft and perfect, except for that all-too-awake voice. "Harry?" Draco whispered again, closer to Harry's ear. "We need to get up."

"You said we could sleep in," Harry mumbled. Draco chuckled, annoyingly alert sounding. Had Draco been an early riser in Harry's past life? He couldn't be bothered to remember.

"I said Cesare could sleep in, but he'll be up soon, and unless you want him coming in here I think we should get up before him." Harry only grunted and snuggled closer. Draco sighed and kissed Harry's forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too," Harry grumbled. "That's why I want to sleep with you."

"I'm sorry, love, but I have to get up…" Harry heard Draco sigh fondly. "You sleep a little longer, then," he said, kissing Harry's forehead again and then extracting himself from his bedmate. Harry tried to hold on to him, but Draco managed to get away. It wasn't long before Harry was asleep again.

…

When Harry finally dragged himself out of bed, his hair looking very much like James Potter's son's hair. Luckily it was more easily fixed with a shower and a good comb through. He tied it back like he always did and found his robes from the day before, they lay clean and pressed on the bed when he returned from the bathroom. Harry thanked Merlin Hermione wasn't getting anywhere with SPEW so that the little elves could continue with their jobs.

He made his way down to where he knew the Malfoys had breakfast. Sure enough, when he entered the smallish room with high french doors and windors with the light streaming through to the white-clothed table, set with perfectly expensive china and good food, Harry saw Draco and Cesare sitting around the round table. He rubbed his eyes to try and get the last remnants of sleep out. Suddenly he grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. A very eager and awake Cesare and holding him around the waist.

"Good morning, Dad!" he said, making himself sound more childish on purpose because it made him seem even more annoyingly awake than he must be. Harry couldn't grumble long about morning people, however, because he was very quickly reminded of how unbelievable his current life was. He hugged Cesare back tightly and they went to sit down, Harry beside Draco, who immediately leaned in for a sweet morning kiss. Harry couldn't keep the smile off his face after that, and he was no longer sleepy.

"So, Dad," Cesare began, obviously as delighted with the turn of events as Harry and almost beaming constantly. "I've been meaning to ask about parseltongue. Can you tell when you're speaking it? Because all I hear is English. I didn't even know I was a parselmouth before Pansy caught me in the garden once." As Cesare asked his question Harry had been served a full breakfast, though he suddenly had a hankering for proper Norwegian bread. It had been ages since he had had some, and that of course put his mind on his parents. Having to focus on answering made it easier not to let his mind wander down that path just yet.

"I couldn't at first, but after a few years I was able to… feel when I was speaking it because of the way my mouth moved. It's kinda hard to explain, but I'm sure you'll get it eventually." Cesare nodded and they resumed their breakfast for a while in silent, simply enjoying each other's company. Then a thought occurred to Harry.

"How is it I passed on the gift to Ces?" he looked at Draco as he asked, "I mean, I thought it only lay in the scar and the connection with Voldemort. I don't even know if I have it still now he's dead."

"I've been thinking about that, actually," Draco said thoughtfully. "I'm only speculating, but when Voldemort made you a parseltongue he gave it to you through the connections between your souls, correct? But the gift itself has to reside in blood, which it must have sort of latched onto, and then transferred to Cesare. When you were reborn the connection was never broken, so the gift simply latched onto your new blood. Of course, parseltongue is an obscure gift, and so is the magic that bound you and Voldemort. Most likely we will never know."

"It's good to have an educated guess though," Harry commented. His brow furrowed in thought. "There's still one thing, well there are lots of things, but one thing in particular that's been bugging me from the beginning…"

"What's that?" Draco asked. They waited in silence for Harry to gather his thoughts. He spoke slowly to make sure he got it right.

"The Prophecy prophesied all this. That in the end I was going to kill Voldemort… but were we really bound by the prophecy? I mean if, say for example, that at the last moment you killed him instead in the forest yesterday. What then? Would we start over? But that doesn't make sense either! Voldemort didn't survive because his death disagreed with the prophecy, he survived because he still had a horcrux… yet, I had no such artefacts, but I was somehow reborn with my memories… You see? The Prophecy can't be the cause of all this because that's not the nature of a prophecy… but then again it has to be since there's no other way for me to have come back-"

"Alright, you're rambling," Draco cut in softly. Harry sighed and rested his head in his hands. Cesare and Draco put on their thinking faces, and when Harry glanced up he almost laughed at how alike they looked like that.

"I think," Draco began a little uncertainly. "There must be another explanation for why you came back… the Prophecy simply predicted that too."

"But how did I come back?" Draco shrugged helplessly, but he tried to answer nevertheless.

"There are many theories on what happens after death. One is that for a moment you have full knowledge of everything within our world, past and present, and future for those who believe that is set in stone as well. Some thinkers believe that's when you choose where to go, and that there are so many ghosts because they choose to stay with what they know, or that they see they have unfinished business. Of course, once returned, they cannot hold all the knowledge of the universe… perhaps you knew for one moment that you had to come back, and somehow managed to avoid becoming a ghost… I think we won't know until we're dead, so we'll just have to wait." Harry nodded, his head was hurting a little from the conversation.

"Good idea... but I agree that we'll have to said, for a long time," he said, taking a decisive bit out of his toast to signal the end of that discussion.

"Now that the existential questions have been pondered, perhaps we can move on to the more practical aspects of your current life?" Draco asked smoothly. Cesare smirked as Harry rolled his eyes.

"Of course, my dear man, what did you have in mind?" he said, trying to mimic Draco's tone.

"Well, first of all… your parents?" Draco said the last word as if he really wasn't sure what to call the Roséns. Harry closed his eyes guiltily and hung his head in shame.

"I-…" What to say? He had been so completely focused on Voldemort that he had hardly thought of them. He ached to see his mother and father again. He didn't even care if his father was now disappointed that he didn't find anything in Albania.

"Do they know?" Draco inquired. Harry shook his head. "Do they know you're aged?" Again Harry shook his head. Draco sighed. "Then you will want to go there first, yes?"

"I have to… yes, I've got to try and explain things... you'll come with me?" Harry looked up pleadingly at Draco. He didn't think he was very good at the whole explaining he was a dead person thing. Draco nodded reassuringly.

"Of course. Now, do you want to tell anyone else? Remus perhaps? Does Dumbledore know?" Harry's heart, from being exited at the prospect of seeing Remus again, plummeted when Draco said the name of the Headmaster.

"Dumbledore," Harry growled. "I need to take care of him." Cesare and Draco exchanged a startled glance. Draco had never been a fan of the old wizard, but no one could imagine Harry being anything but a faithful worshipper.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked. "Take care of?" Harry looked Draco in the eye, the green seemed to burn, and explained in a forced calm voice all about Dumbledore's betrayal. How he had not taken care of the snake, how he had been indebting people to him, and how he had hidden Harry's last will and testament. Draco grew steadily darker in his gaze. And Cesare looked shocked that the nice old man could do such despicable things.

"We will make sure he's properly taken care of," Draco confirmed. "I think-"

"Master Malfoy, sir!" an elf popped into existence by the table. "There is a Mr. Ronald Weasley here to see all of you, sir," it squeaked.

"Bring him in," Draco said at once. Harry and Draco stood as Ron was led in the room by the elf. Upon seeing them Ron immediately grinned and went over to hug Harry. He shook Draco's hand warmly afterwards.

"Ron, sit down, have you had breakfast?" Draco asked politely.

"Yeah, I'm good, but I'm actually here on business," Ron said grimly, gesturing the seat aside. He looked a little anxious.

"Oh? You haven't come to arrest me, have you?" Draco's voice was one of mild surprise, but Cesare looked genuinely worried, and Ron hastened to explain.

"No, no, nothing like that. It's been chaos at the Ministry. You need to come down and make an official statement so everybody can put their insane theories to rest. You should come quick so the Prophet can get it in the paper tomorrow. They didn't get it in today, but without your statement, who knows what crazy stuff they'll print!" Draco nodded in agreement. He turned to Harry and Cesare.

"I'll go to London and take care of things. It shouldn't take that long, and when I get back we'll go to Norway." Harry really didn't want Draco to leave him so soon. He hardly wanted to let the blond out of his sight ever again. Draco seemed to read him easily. He stepped closer and placed a soft kiss to his lover's lips. "I'll be back soon. You and Cesare have fun, but no pranks!" he said with narrowed eyes. Cesare giggled, then tried to look innocent when Draco mock-glared at him. Harry laughed, the sound only slightly strained.

"See you soon," Harry said, stealing once last kiss. The pairs said goodbye to each other and soon only Harry and Cesare were left at breakfast.

"I want to draw a snake so I can practice!" Cesare declared, calling a house-elf to bring him parchment and chalk. Harry smiled as he continued with his breakfast, but he wasn't really hungry, just picking at his food.

"You talk to Dusa at school, don't you?" he asked. Cesare gave him an odd look.

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, I read your letter. It was actually Dusa who pointed it out to me. It was under your bed… I'm so sorry for not writing you-"

"Don't worry about it," Cesare said, waving off the apology. "I think getting my other father as an early Christmas present more than makes up for it," he grinned.

They spent the rest of the morning talking and joking. Harry got to really and truly act his age, which wasn't very different from his usual personality with Cesare, but it was still a relief to know he didn't have to pretend. He suspected that perhaps being in a child's body and acting like one most of the time had stifled his emotional growth, and that emotionally he wasn't far above twenty. So when Draco said he was the blonde's young lover he was right, despite the fact that Harry had thirty years worth of memories.

Cesare and Harry's relationship didn't shift much either, but Cesare seemed happier because he didn't have to sensor himself when he wanted show Harry he considered him family, for he was no longer afraid Harry didn't love him as a brother, and now as a father. Indeed, there was no doubt in either of their minds, and they had a very pleasant day together.

It was late afternoon when Draco returned. Cesare and Harry were sitting on the floor in the greenhouse so it took a while for the elder Malfoy to find them. When he did he spied on them for a moment, an affectionate smile on his lips as he watched the two people he loved more than anything on earth, finally together as they should have always been. It was nothing short of a miracle. When he listened in on their conversation he realised they were speaking in parseltongue. By the way they were bending and looking under the table with numerous flowerpots on, he suspected they were trying to coax a snake from underneath.

"Come on, don't be afraid," Cesare soothed. The snake didn't seem so much afraid as indifferent. It had been looking at them with mild curiosity for at least ten minutes as if surprised they could speak, then it had ignored them and slithered along the wall, not saying a word.

"Come on, Ces," Harry said, switching to English. "Leave it alone. A lot of snakes tend to be a bit haughty when it comes to humans. Either that or they are wise and mysterious sounding. I have yet to find a "normal" snake."

"Dusa isn't so bad," Cesare countered, still speaking parseltongue since he was looking under the table. "She can be a good listener when she feels like it."

"My point exactly," Harry said. "They do what they want, when they want. Come on." Harry's tone was more insistent, and Cesare gave up on the snake and resignedly let Harry help him to his feet.

"You're a natural," Draco said, commenting on Harry's father skills as he stepped into their view. Both their faces lit up at the sight of him, and Draco thought himself the luckiest man alive. He went to them, ruffling Cesare's hair, earning a mock-glare, and then kissing Harry sweetly, his skin shivering as it always did now when he touched Harry.

"I've fire called Hermione and she said she'd come over to watch Cesare. Ron will be along after work, which will probably still be awhile."

"I don't need someone to watch me," Cesare pouted. Draco looked down as if appraising his son.

"I disagree. Without Pansy here to inflict her presence on us, I suspect you'll have the run of the house. Unfortunately for you I'm rather fond of it and don't want to come home to rubble." Harry chuckled as Cesare only pouted more. "Come, she should be through the floo any moment." He took Harry's hand in his, Cesare stalked ahead, but both Harry and Draco knew the boy well enough to know he really didn't mind.

As they entered Draco's study, the only place where the floo currently connected to the outside as the head of the household had made sure Pansy's was locked securely, Hermione stepped through.

"Oh, Harry, Draco, I'm so happy for you!" she gushed immediately, rushing over to hug Harry, who laughed and hugged back with equal force. Hermione looked like she wanted to hug Draco too, but managed to settle for a handshake and smile. She looked to Cesare next. "Cesare, my boys have told me so much about you, but we haven't really been introduced. I'm Hermione Weasley." Cesare politely held out his hand and the witch shook it.

"Pleasure," he said. "I've heard about you too of course."

"You have?" Hermione asked in surprise, raising an eyebrow. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure you'll get along swimmingly," he said. "And thank you for coming over." Hermione nodded seriously, knowing exactly why Draco didn't want to leave his son alone at the moment. Cesare seemed to catch on right at that moment and warmed up to Hermione instantly, knowing it would help his father in leaving and helping his other father.

"See you later then," Draco said, giving in to the urge and hugging his son. Harry did the same, and added a kiss to the forehead just because he could. Hermione and Cesare left the study, the latter wanting to give one of his informing tours of the place. Draco walked over to his desk and dug up an old quill. He transformed it easily into a portkey and they were soon off to the Ministry in Norway, wanting to arrive at the Rosén through the floo because only invited people or family members could come through, and that would help convince them, hopefully…

…

Harry held on to Draco's hand tightly as they stepped out of the floo, both so that he didn't fall on his arse, and for moral support. Draco looked around the drawing room, obviously noting its décor and calculating the Rosén's wealth. Harry only gazed worriedly at the large open double doors leading to the hallway. It took only a moment before he heard his mother's voice.

"Kenneth! I heard the floo!" she called in Norwegian. They heard her footsteps hurrying towards them. Harry had never seen his mother run before, and inside the house too! Elisabeth skidded to a halt when she arrived in the drawing room. She looked at the pair with wide eyes and one hand was clutching at her chest. "Who are you?" she asked in confusion. Harry didn't have a chance to answer because his father came into view behind his wife, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder. He looked more angry than shocked.

"What is the meaning of this? Who are you? How did you come through our floo without invitation?" Since Draco didn't understand what they were saying Harry knew he had to answer. He was just finding it a little hard to make any coherent sounds. He cleared his throat.

"Mother, Father, it's me, Alex," he said rather lamely, sticking with his native language because speaking English would surely not convince them. Elisabeth stepped forwards immediately and walked quickly over to stand in front of Harry. He noted with mixed feelings that he was taller than her now. Of course he was, he had inherited his father's height. She gazed into his eyes for an eternity, her own eyes were filled with unshed tears. She was struggling to believe him, but Harry could tell she desperately wanted to.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Harry bit his lip. Which why was she asking? Why had he run away? Why had he aged? Why had he come back? Elisabeth was looking as if her little boy was gone forever, and Harry supposed he was.

"It's a very long story," he said. His mother's brow furrowed in disappointment or confusion, then her eyes flickered over to Draco and she suddenly recognised him.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she exclaimed. "What are you doing with our Alex?" she cried, a few tears finally starting to fall. Her expression was quickly morphing into one of anger.

"Draco didn't have anything to do with this," Harry said, switching to English like his mother for Draco's benefit. "I only went to him yesterday." Elisabeth looked from one to the other. Kenneth had now moved forward. He placed his hand on his wife's shoulder again and stared gravely into Harry's eyes, at the same level of his own. There was a definite resemblance.

"Let us sit down and let Alex explain," he said. "Then perhaps Mr. Malfoy's involvement will become clear." He guided his wife over to the sofa and sat down. Harry let go of Draco's hand, thinking it best that his parents weren't distracted by him holding the hand of a man they believed to be much older than him. Draco and Harry took the opposite sofa.

"Please, Mother, Father, you must hear me out and not interrupt," he pleaded. "Promise me."

"Alright, of course, sweetie," his mother said, taking out a handkerchief and wiping at her eyes. "Just, please explain." Harry nodded. He cast a glance at Draco, drinking in the sight of his love beside him, before turning back to his parents. Then he began his tale…

"The Dark Lord survived," he stated, his voice oddly emotionless when the moment had finally arrived. He saw his father flinch, but chose to ignore it. His mother gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. She looked at her husband, but managed not to say anything like she promised. "As did Harry Potter. Voldemort," neither of them flinched at the name since it wasn't uncommon to say it outside of Britain, "survived as a spirit in the forests of Albania. Harry Potter was reincarnated." Here he paused to let the information sink in. "He was reborn as a little boy because his destiny had not been fulfilled. Harry Potter was born again as Alex Rosén."

His father now had an arms around Elisabeth's shoulders, and she shook her head in confusion as tears continued to stream down her face, but she didn't say anything yet.

"I needed to brew and drink an ageing potion because Voldemort was on the move again. I have remembered my past life since the age of four. Perhaps you remember my sudden change into a mature boy? I went to the forest, and with the help of Draco we destroyed Voldemort once and for all. I am, obviously, not going to de-age myself because I simply no longer wish to pretend to be a child any longer. I am sorry that you have lost your twelve year old, but I am still your son."

"No," Elisabeth interrupted, unable to contain herself any longer. Harry's heart stopped dead for a terrible moment. "It's not true. Harry Potter reborn? It's insane! You can't be Alex. He wouldn't say such things!" She continued to babble in Norwegian. Denying everything Harry had said.

"Lisa," Kenneth cut her off, his tone gentle. He looked at Harry intently for a moment. Perhaps he was more inclined to believe the tale? He did believe the Dark Lord had survived. Why not this? "Open your eyes. This must be our Alex. And if it is then what he is saying must be true, because he has no reason to tell us such lies." The married couple stared at each other for a long moment.

"You believe this?" Elisabeth breathed. "That our son is Harry Potter?" Kenneth glanced at Harry briefly.

"Yes, I do," he said calmly. "It's too unbelievable not to believe." Elisabeth looked over at Harry again. She seemed to be crying less now, but her eyes were still wide and shining.

"Alex?"

"Yes, Mother, it's me. Please believe me," Harry entreated her in Norwegian, adding 'this time' in his mind. His green eyes bore into hers. She rose a bit unsteadily from the couch and came towards him. He rose to meet her.

"Oh, Alex!" she cried and flung her arms around his neck. Harry let out a quick exhale and hugged her tightly. "I've been so worried about you! How could you just leave like that! We thought you were dead! We had an army of Aurors out looking for you! The entire Ministry!"

"You did?" Harry asked, slightly awed by that fact.

"Of course we did!" his mother exclaimed indignantly, pulling away to glare at her son. She was in full mother mode again and Harry cringed. His expression drew an unexpected smile from her. Apparently he looked more like himself when feeling guilty. "Oh, Alex. It really is you! You've come home!" She hugged him again, her anger forgotten. When they separated again Draco was smiling softly. Kenneth looked relieved, but still a little awkward. Harry made a mental note to talk with him later.

"You never told us how Mr. Malfoy came to help you-" Elisabeth suddenly stopped short. She looked at Harry oddly, her eyes only half seeing him. Harry couldn't help the slight blush that stole over his cheeks. She glanced at Draco, who raised an eyebrow at her. Harry was looking down at his feet.

"But-…" Elisabeth began, she looked confusedly at her son. "I thought you married that… Pansy Parkinson girl?" she asked Draco, obviously remembering the biography she had read.

"I'm afraid she was the one helping the Dark Lord. She's dead now," Draco said in an emotionless tone. Kenneth cleared his throat.

"So… what exactly is your relationship?" he asked. Both parents looked to Draco expectantly.

"I love Harry, or Alex, with all my soul," Draco informed them sincerely. "I have always loved him. You cannot imagine what it is like to have the love of your life come back from the dead." He sent Harry a sly smile and Harry returned it shyly.

"But you married Parkinson," Elisabeth pressed, looking like a mother dragon ready to protect her eggs. She raised her eyebrows at Draco, waiting for him to refute her, and put her hands on her hips.

"Mrs. Rosén, I assure you, I never loved Pansy," Draco began-

"And yet you entered into a sacred bond with her?" Elisabeth cut him off. Draco sighed and gazed at Harry, who went and sat down again. Elisabeth reluctantly took her seat beside her husband again, glaring at Draco suspiciously. Harry knew he should be angry and annoyed at his parents. He was a grown man, now both mentally and physically, but he was just feeling immense love for them instead. It would take time before they got used to the fact that he was now twenty years old, thirty mentally, and was with another man. But it felt so nice having parents who cared enough to question his lover about his intentions.

"Should we tell them?" Draco asked. "It would explain things much easier." Harry nodded, gazing seriously at his parents and feeling apprehension again.

"Mother, Father, congratulations! You're already grandparents!" Harry couldn't help but giggle at the shocked expressions on his parents' faces. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Blunt as always, love," he said fondly. "Still a little Gryffindor in you, I suppose."

Chapter 14: Planning A Confrontation

"What!" Elisabeth shrieked, and Harry sobered quickly. What if they thought it unnatural like Draco had said?

"Remember Cesare? My friend?" Harry asked.

"You mean that little blond boy? Malfoy's son?" his mother asked dazedly. Perhaps it was too much information for one day. She looked ready to faint. Kenneth was keeping his face blank.

"Yes, he's… our son," Harry said, unable to keep from smiling at Draco. "It happened right before I, well, died, but it wasn't really planned and I didn't know about it until yesterday."

"Understand, Mrs. Rosén," Draco said seriously. "I was only in my eighteenth year, and very heartbroken over Harry's death. I married Pansy out of fear for my child. I was afraid people would shun him and find him unnatural."

"Which is absolutely stupid," Harry declared. "Because he's the sweetest, kindest boy I know, and I'm very proud of him. People should understand that he came from our love for each other, because that's what it takes for two-"

"Yes, yes, I know, I understand," Elisabeth said, sounding breathless. "It's just all so much to take in." Harry and Draco nodded in understanding. Elisabeth looked at her husband. Kenneth sighed.

"We love you Alex, and we'll love any grandson you give us," he said. Harry smiled and sighed in relief. "Although he won't technically be ours by blood, will he?"

"Well, no," Harry admitted. "He's got Potter and Malfoy blood in him. Do you care that much about blood?" Harry asked, making sure not to let too much insinuation seep into his voice. Realisation still flashed in Kenneth's eyes. Draco was watching them curiously.

"No, of course not," Mr. Rosén stated. Harry nodded once in acknowledgement, but let his eyes show that they weren't done talking about it. Elisabeth hardly noticed the exchange. She seemed excited that there would be a little boy in their life after all.

"I think that's amazing. I'm so sorry for my presumption earlier, Mr. Malfoy, I know now that you must love each other very much."

"Apology accepted," Draco said with a wave of his hand. "And please, call me Draco." Elisabeth smiled and nodded.

"And you may call me Elisabeth, but come! Let's have dinner together. You must stay the night as well."

"We really should get back to Ces," Harry said uncertainly, even though he wanted very much to stay just a little longer.

"I'm sure we can stay for dinner," Draco said smoothly. "Harry, why don't you stay the night?" Harry still looked unsure about what he really wanted. It was a very difficult decision! He thought frantically that if only they could contact Hermione by floo across the sea then maybe they could have her stay at Malfoy Manor until- He never got to finish the thought because at that moment Fawkes appeared in a burst of flames above their heads. The phoenix drifted gracefully down and perched on Harry's shoulder.

"Fawkes!" he exclaimed, grinning at seeing the bird again. He had missed him.

"But you don't attend Hogwarts! How did the bird find you?" Elisabeth asked.

"Why has he come at all, is what I want to know," Draco said. "You seem rather familiar with the phoenix."

"Yeah, Fawkes was the one who helped me with Dumbledore. He also delivered my letters home last year." Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry's casual mention that such a proud bird would allow Harry to use it as a common owl. Fawkes trilled in acknowledgement. "Can you take a letter to Hermione perhaps?"

"Yes, I'll ask her to stay with Cesare. I'm a little weary of leaving him alone at the moment you see," Draco told the Roséns even as he conjured up parchment and a quill.

"Is there a particular reason for that?" Elisabeth inquired. Draco and Harry exchanged a glance and silently decided to tell the whole tale this time. Harry talked while Draco wrote the letter.

Some time later, when the Roséns had calmed down from their shock over the actions of Pansy, the letter from Hermione came back stating that she understood perfectly and she and Ron would be staying the night. They adjourned to the dining room and had Harry's favourite, which he hadn't had in ages and was therefore very pleased. Draco had never had reindeer before, but was pleasantly surprised at the exquisite taste. They continued to talk about everything and nothing.

Harry was smiling the whole night, and Draco was the perfect gentleman, charming the Rosén expertly. After dinner they settled in the drawing room again and had dessert. Draco and Elisabeth got into a discussion on the difference between Hogwarts and the Norwegian school. Harry saw his opportunity and caught his father's eye.

"Father, could I have a word?" Kenneth could not hide his apprehensiveness from Harry. Draco cast a curious glance in their direction as they moved out of the room. They went down the hall to the library, remaining silent until they were settled in front of the fireplace.

"I'm sure you're wondering how much I know?" Harry asked, keeping his voice and gaze neutral. Harry could see his father trying to keep his composure, as well as debating how best to answer.

"Son… are you my son?" Kenneth asked suddenly. Harry was taken aback by the question.

"Of course," he answered with conviction. "Trust me, you and Mother are the only parents who have raised me." Kenneth raised an eyebrow at this.

"How so?" Harry sighed. This was not the conversation they were supposed to be having. At least his mother wasn't around to hear.

"The biography of Harry Potter doesn't tell you much about his upbringing does it?" he asked rhetorically. "That's because I kept that to myself. My first childhood, as I call it, was spent being a house elf for my aunt and uncle…" Kenneth's brow furrowed in thought, and Harry could see a dark look in his eyes. It made him feel loved for some reason. "Do you remember my fifth birthday?" he asked, startling Kenneth out of his thoughts.

"Yes, of course…" he trailed off and it dawned on him. "You cried." Harry nodded.

"I was overwhelmed that I 'suddenly' had parents who loved me. I had just gotten my memories back a few months ago. I'll always remember the sacrifice James and Lily Potter made for me, but for all intents and purposes you are my parents, in spirit and blood."

"And you will always be my son," Kenneth said softly. His lips quirked all of a sudden. "I always said you would be famous. I didn't realise you already were." Harry let a breathy laugh escape him, both at the joke and from relief. He grew pensive when he remembered what they were supposed to be talking about. They couldn't avoid it forever.

"Father, I know you went to Albania," Kenneth flinched and bowed his head, unable to look his son in the eye. "I love you no matter what, but I would really like to know what you were thinking."

"I-… I'm not sure. I was so disappointed when-" he chuckled, but it was without humour. "When you killed the Dark Lord. I had… such plans. I never even got to meet him." He shook his head at himself. "I am sorry. I only wanted to secure a future for my family." Harry nodded his head, even though his father couldn't see him. "I don't think I realised…" he struggled with forming his thoughts into words for a moment. "Realising the man you wanted to help regain power is- was trying to kill the son you were trying to protect… it is an eye-opener." He finally looked up at Harry. "When Lisa contacted me and told me you were missing I came home immediately," he said earnestly. "I forgot all about my plan. We were so worried. Voldemort was nothing to me compared to you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No, no, Alex. I am sorry…" Harry took pity on his father. He had never seen the man look so shaken. Kenneth was struggling with all the realisations he had been getting. Harry got up and sat beside his father, hugging the man. Kenneth returned the embrace.

"I forgive you… but I can't forget just yet," Harry whispered. "People who desire power enough to alley themselves with the likes of Voldemort, even if you didn't fully realise what he was about, it is still cause for concern."

"What would you have me do?" his father whispered back shakily.

"I think you should resign from your job at the Ministry," Harry said. "Take yourself out of a position of power. Help Mother with her work or find something else, something good and selfless to do. If you do that, then I will be proud of you." They pulled apart and Harry's father was looking at him with something akin to awe.

"You have grown into a very wise man… very quickly." Harry smiled softly.

"I had a perfect upbringing as far as I'm concerned," he said.

"I will do as you suggest," Kenneth said, nodding his head for emphasis. "I do not want you to count me among the likes of that Pansy Parkinson woman."

"I would never do that, Father," Harry reassured him at once. "I think I'll go to bed now. Goodnight." Kenneth nodded and hugged his son once more.

"Goodnight."

…

"I am so very glad," Draco said when Harry closed the bedroom door. Despite his blushing Harry had insisted they share his old room. He would not be parted from Draco again. His parents would simply have to get used to the idea that their son was now twenty. They didn't seem to mind the fact that Draco was almost ten years older. It could have something to do with the fact that Kenneth was nine years older than Elisabeth.

"Any particular reason?" Harry asked, smiling. Draco was looking around the room at the many toys.

"That you got to have a good childhood," he said.

"It does make up for a few things," Harry mused aloud. Draco turned back to Harry and quirked an eyebrow. He stepped close to his lover and kissed Harry languidly.

"Does this make up for some of it too?" Draco breathed, his lips a hair's widths away from Harry's.

"Hmmm, maybe," Harry murmured, stealing another kiss before pulling away and heading for the bathroom. "Oh, good, the house-elves brought us some of father's old things," he said over his shoulder as he entered the bathroom. Draco followed him in and they got ready for bed together. When Harry went to grab one of the nightshirts laid out Draco stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

"You won't be needing that," he said, giving Harry a look filled with barely restrained desire. Harry gulped. Draco, still holding Harry's wrist, and only his wand in the other, pulled his lover back into the bedroom. He spun around when they were by the bed and pulled Harry's naked body against his. "I'm going to take your virgin ass right here, in your parents' home." Harry flushed, both from arousal and embarrassment that Draco's statement caused him to be aroused. He let Draco push him, and fell back easily on the bed, looking up with unrestrained desire.

As Harry lay back with his head on the pillows he simply watched Draco, the smooth pale skin making him hard just by looking. Draco crawled on the bed towards him. Harry shivered in anticipation. "You're mine," Draco growled and Harry could only nod his agreement. Draco crawled over Harry's body, stopping at the toned chest and leaning down to suck in a nipple. Harry arched into the touch in surprise and desire.

(From this point on this scene is censored! ... trust me the original is much more detailed!)

"Oh, Merlin, please," the frustrated young man groaned.

"Please what?" Draco whispered even as he took pity on his lover. Harry gasped and buried his face in the pillows. After a long moment Harry grew inpatient again.

"Fuck me already. I'm ready to lose my virginity." Draco moaned at the statement. They would belong only to each other this time. No past lovers, only Draco would touch Harry this time.

"You're so tight," Draco panted.

"Yessss," Harry hissed, sounding almost as if he was speaking parseltongue. They rocked together for eternity, but it was over in a moment. Harry came first and Draco continued to thrust into his lover throughout Harry's orgasm, coming himself a moment later.

They fell down together on the mattress and lay still as their breathing evened out. Draco only just managed to slide out and let Harry turn back around before he had snuggled up to his love and fell asleep. Harry managed to cast a cleaning charm on then, using Draco's wand, and then followed Draco into the land on dreams. But even the sweetest dreams couldn't come close to their reality…

…

Harry and Draco came down to breakfast hand in hand. His parents smiled at the obviously happy couple and they all sat down to eat. Harry blushed when Draco gave him a look. To Harry it spoke volumes, the most notable being: 'I wonder what your folks would say if I told them what we did right under their noses last night'. Harry was feeling a little giddy, like a naughty teenager, something he had never been, but was now enjoying immensely, despite his blush.

Afterwards they exchanged farewells, tearful ones on Elisabeth's part. Harry promised to visit them very soon, to keep in touch with Fawkes' help, and to invite them down to Malfoy Manor at their earliest convenience. It would be much easier to visit with Draco's licence to create portkeys. Finally they touched the same quill used to bring them there and were magicked away.

Draco moved swiftly, still retaining his seeker reflexes, and steadied Harry before he could fall. However, Harry was almost knocked to the ground again when Hermione suddenly launched herself at him.

"Oh, Harry!" she gushed, squeezing all the air out of him. "I can't believe it!"

"Hermione! I can't breathe!" Harry managed. She let go of him abruptly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she demanded. She rounded on Draco. "And you! All this time! Over a decade and not one word! You didn't even bother to reply to one of our letters to inform us!" Draco and Harry exchanged a bewildered glance.

"Hermione, calm down," Ron's voice came from the couch were he and Cesare were sitting, a game of chess between them. "Don't waste your breath. They deserve to be hexed." His tone wasn't very serious, but Harry and Draco still frowned in confusion. "Well, Draco does. Harry didn't know until yesterday," Ron added. Hermione huffed and plopped down in an armchair.

"Will someone explain what's going on?" Harry asked, looking around at them all. Cesare was looked rather smug and when Draco narrowed his eyes at his son he snickered.

"Not my fault you didn't tell them, Father," he declared, focusing on the board and telling a pawn to take one of Ron's.

"I am guessing you are talking about Cesare's lack of mother?" Draco surmised. He sat down on the opposite couch of the two chess players and pulled Harry down beside him. Hermione huffed again.

"Of course. Imagine my surprise when I looked into Cesare's eyes and commented on their colour, only to have the boy inform me he got them from his father!" Draco glanced at his son, narrowing his eyes as the boy tried to look innocent. "I don't understand how you couldn't trust us to know. Did you think we would say it was unnatural?" Draco sighed.

"I didn't tell anybody… well, except Blaise, but I needed someone to know, and I was scared alright? I had been brought up to believe it one of the most despicable things a man could do." Hermione sighed and softened immediately.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Draco. I shouldn't have bitten your head off like that."

"It's fine… I'm not going to hide it anymore, though." Harry raised his eyebrows at this, along with everybody else in the room.

"You're going to tell the press?" Ron asked warily.

"Yes," Draco stated firmly. "I don't want anybody thinking Pansy gave birth to my son. Reputation be damned. I don't care about any of that anymore. I want people to know the truth. I have Cesare and Harry. That's all I need." Harry marvelled at the confidence of Draco's words. They warmed his heart. He leaned over and kissed his lover on the cheek. Draco threw him a small smile. Cesare beamed, quite happy to not have people thinking the woman who tired to murder him was his mother. Hermione wiped a tear from her eye and Ron nodded his agreement.

"Now, we need to discuss some things. Mainly, Dumbledore," Draco said. He looked to Harry. "What to you want to do about him?" Harry thought hard for a long moment. All eyes were on him. The chess pieces even shut up.

"I need to confront him. I need to know the truth, and I want him to pay for keeping my will a secret."

"You're going to have a hard time getting Dumbledore declared guilty of anything," Ron commented gravely. "Especially without proof."

"I'm sure Fawkes can steal the will. He got the cloak back after all." They all nodded pensively.

"Still… it's Dumbledore. The Wizengamot is just going to explain it away as a forgery. And who would bring the accusations? Draco? Then they'll just say he made it up." Ron was making a good, if irritating, point. He knew how the Ministry worked. Despite the fact that Fudge was no longer in office didn't mean things were perfect.

"I think I'll question him first and then see," Harry decided. Draco nodded in agreement, thinking it the best course of action. The Slytherin action; to wait and see, or lurk as some preferred.

"So, how was Norway?" Cesare asked to lighten the mood. Harry smiled.

"Brilliant. Your grandparents say hello." At this Cesare laughed.

"Who would have guessed that my best friend's parents would turn out to be my grandparents!" They all shared a laugh.

"So they accepted it?" Hermione pressed, wanting to be absolutely sure. Harry nodded and she smiled in relief.

"This is all lovely, but will someone please tell me to kick that knight's butt!" a bishop cried from the chessboard. "It's been giving me the evil eye!" Cesare apologised and sent it on its happy way.

…

Not long after Ron and Hermione left for work. Harry, Cesare and Draco spent the day together, neither of them even mentioned going back to Hogwarts yet. The Prophet had the article about Pansy's death, along with Draco's statement that she had tried to kidnap Cesare. Draco decided to write another statement that told of Cesare's true parents. Unfortunately letting everybody know Harry Potter was the father of his child mean that Alex Rosén would always be viewed as a stepfather at most. But he vowed to get Harry the parental rights as Alex Rosén just in case anything happened to him.

Harry wanted to spend one more peaceful day with his family before he confronted Dumbledore. He dreaded that perhaps even more than he had dreaded facing Voldemort. Dumbledore had always been a source of hope and guidance, and a part of Harry was praying for a reasonable explanation…

They all went to bed that night feeling happy and content… unfortunately their morning and next day would be far from it.

Chapter 15: The Hero of the Wizarding world?

Harry woke bright and early for a change and smiled lazily as he felt Draco snuggling closer. He loved the feel of Draco's naked body sliding against him, even if he wasn't aroused at the moment. He sighed in utter contentment. He decided a good lay in was still possible. He almost drifted back to sleep even…

Suddenly the door banged open and Cesare rushed in. Harry and Draco both sat bolt upright in bed at the sound.

"Father, Dad! You've got to see the Prophet!" he cried, bounding over to the bed. He didn't seem the least embarrassed to find his two obviously naked parents in bed. Harry surreptitiously made sure the covers were in fact covering his lap completely. Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Well, give it here," he said, holding out his hand. Cesare immediately handed him the well-read issue of the Daily Prophet. Harry didn't try and read over Draco's shoulder. He wasn't sure if he wanted to read it at all.

"Fuck," Draco swore. Cesare nodded in agreement as Harry frowned at the language. Draco turned wide eyes to Harry and wordlessly handed the paper over. Harry looked down and gasped at the headlines.

BOY WHO LIVED LIVES! AND IS FATHER TO MALFOY HEIR! Exclusive statement from Draco Malfoy on page four! By: Rita Skeeter.

The shocking revelations are almost too much for this reporter, but I shall try to start at the beginning and tell you the whole tale accurately and truthfully!

Rumours heard from a member of Albus Dumbledore's illustrious Order of the Pheonix reached this reporter a few weeks ago. They said that the Headquarters, formerly the Black family residence, was under lock and key because the 'rightful heir of the Black family' had supposedly claimed the house. Naturally, I became curious and investigated.

After digging around at Gringotts and other Order members I unearthed that not only had number twelve Grimmauld Place been taken from Dumbledore's control, along with the Black family vaults, but the Potter vaults had also been claimed. Following further investigations with the goblins led me to the most startling discovery!

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived To Die For Love, was the one and only to have claimed back his title as Potter and Black heir (the latter due to the last will and testament the late Sirius Black, famous for his wrongful imprisonment in Azkaban for twelve years). For those who are unfamiliar with goblin magic, they have very accurate ways of ascertaining the owner of magical signatures. It is therefore without a doubt that we can proclaim: Harry Potter must be alive!

Now, this only raised more questions than the one I had managed to answer. How did he survive the killing curse yet again? (Or indeed, should we be surprised that he did?) Why choose to claim his titles, yet try to bribe the goblins to keep it secret? And why did he keep it secret in the first place? These shocking questions were only overshadowed by another scandalous revelation!

Draco Malfoy, Defeater of Voldemort, former lover of none other than Harry Potter, and recent widower of his wife Pansy, sent a statement to the Daily Prophet yesterday, declaring that Pansy Malfoy (former Parkinson) was not the mother of his son, one Cesare Malfoy currently attending Hogwarts as a second-year, though still absent since his kidnapping by said non-mother! It was in fact Draco Malfoy himself who carried and gave birth to his son, and Harry Potter was proclaimed to be the father!

For those muggleborns not familiar with this kind of magic: the union of two wizards is possible, though extremely rare and considered amongst most respecting families to be unnatural to the extreme. This reporter, however, would like to point out the fact that only when there is true love between the wizards can they create life. And this proves once and for all that Draco Malfoy did indeed love the Boy Who Lived, and his marrying of Pansy Parkinson so shortly after his lover's death can be seen in a new light. I am sure I speak for many witches out there when I say: Good for them!

Still, one cannot disregard that Harry Potter's resurrection comes at strange moment in time. Right after Pansy Malfoy's death no less, by the hand of her husband! It was, according to Mr. Malfoy himself, self defence and for the rescue of his son, but could the reason for her kidnapping of Cesare Malfoy be that she did knew of Harry Potter alive status? Was she trying to convince her husband not to tell the world of her lack of motherhood?

This reporter is waiting for more answers, and hopes that Harry Potter comes out of hiding and gives them to us! Does not the world deserve to know what happened to the Boy Hero? Come out Harry Potter, and tell us your story!

Draco, who had been finishing reading over Harry's shoulder, shook his head dazedly. Harry was still too shocked to move. Cesare was hopping from foot to foot in apprehension.

"What do we do?" he asked worriedly. Harry looked up at him.

"We can't deny it," he said flatly.

"No, there's no point in that," Draco agreed. He eyed Harry anxiously. "Are you ok?" Harry sighed and looked down gloomily at the paper again. Cesare frowned as Draco put an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"I was looking forward to being able to walk the streets without being gawked at." Draco pulled him into a half embrace and kissed his cheek.

"You forget that I'm the Defeater. I get stared at almost as much as you were, so if you were planning on sticking around…" Harry sighed.

"I know, but still… I'm ok, though, I think. Maybe it's better if they all know… Dumbledore!" he exclaimed suddenly, causing Cesare to jump slightly.

"What about him?" Draco asked.

"I can accuse him now! Harry Potter comes back from the dead and finds out you didn't get the stuff I left you means I can accuse Dumbledore of hiding it!" Draco looked eager now, but had to point out-

"But he could say he knew you were alive all along…"

"The Ministry will have my word and yours, not to mention the will itself… and the witness… Fawkes!" Harry called. He couldn't believe it! He had completely forgotten about the witness! He was just about to jump out of bed when he remembered Cesare and gave him a pointed look. The boy turned around obediently, but didn't leave because he wanted to stay and listen. Harry just grabbed the robes he had on yesterday, his father's, and dressed quickly. Draco did the same on the other side of the bed, though he put on new clothes. Fawkes burst into existence, perching on the chair by the desk in front of the window.

"There you are!" Harry said. "Listen, can you get my will?" Fawked trilled and disappeared before Harry could say another word. Harry started pacing the room, Draco and Cesare looking on in silence. "I need to firecall Ron, get him to come to the Ministry… I think I need Snape as well… yes, he's the only one suitable…" he muttered under his breath. Fawked appeared again clutching a roll of parchment in its talons. Harry grabbed it and unrolled it quickly, his eyes scanning the script. "Professor McGonagall…" he murmured sadly. He rolled the parchment up again and pocketed it. He looked at his lover and son, and smiled.

"I'll be back later. I need to do this myself," he said, coming closer to them. "I love you," he said to both of them. He hugged Cesare and then ducked his head to kiss Draco, who cupped Harry's face with his hands to keep him there a moment longer.

"Stay safe," Draco murmured when they parted.

"I will," Harry whispered back. He stepped away and quickly left the room, going down to the study to put the first part of his plan into motion…

… (AN: His plan will be kept secret because it's more fun that way! So we jump to evening on the same day...)

Harry was walking up the lawn to Hogwarts castle. He gazed up at the towers and felt warmed by the sight of the place. This would always be his very first home, but he was very pleased that he now had several other places where he was welcomed home as well. The sun was just setting; though considering the time of year it wasn't that late yet. Harry was a little tired, but he was still ready to do this. As he neared the front entrance he saw a black-robed figure emerge from the doors and come down the steps to meet him.

"Potter," the figure stated in an unidentifiable tone. Harry bowed his head slightly in greeting.

"Professor Snape," he replied. Snape came to stand in front of him, trying to tower over him, but not being entirely successful this time due to Harry's new height. Indeed, he was only a few inches taller now.

"I see you managed the potion on your own," Snape commented. Harry nodded once, then gestured towards the lake.

"Can we walk?" he asked. Snape nodded in reply and they set off together, neither looking at the other, well, they weren't being obvious about it at least. Harry knew exactly why Snape wasn't insulting him right away. The man wanted answers, and was willing to wait for them. Since Harry was now a Slytherin himself he knew Snape was biding his time. They reached the edge of the lake and turned towards each other.

"Voldemort is dead," Harry said flatly. Had he not known the man Harry would never have noticed the almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

"How?" Snape asked.

"Pansy, as you know, kidnapped Cesare. She was trying to use his blood to bring Voldemort back to life. Just like he used my blood the first time."

"Yes, Cesare," Snape murmured, looking pensively down at the ground. "Your son?" he said, eyes fixing on Harry's intently. It wasn't really a question. Harry smiled. He couldn't help the giddiness he felt every time someone mentioned he had a son.

"Yes," he said fondly, then grew serious again. "Ron, Hermione, Draco and I managed to locate them and stop Pansy. Draco finished the potion, made sure Voldemort got his body back, and I killed him."

"Draco finished it? How?" Snape's eyes held the answers even before Harry said it.

"He cut off his finger." Snape closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them he was studying Harry with narrowed eyes.

"And what do you intend to do now?" he inquired.

"I intend to take care of Dumbledore," Harry informed him bluntly. Snape nodded once, curtly, and turned towards the lake. His eyes didn't seem to see it, though. Harry didn't interrupt the man who was clearly lost in thought. He wanted to try and apologise for the whole pensive incident, yet again, because he really didn't want to fight Snape, but he doubted it would do much good.

"I have been wrong," came Snape's sudden voice, barely audible, but Harry heard him.

"Sir?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. Snape heaved a deep weary sigh. This was obviously not easy for him.

"I asked Dumbledore about your last will and testament." Harry's eyebrows rose in shock. How the hell had he managed that? Snape glanced at Harry and smirked. "You forget I am Slytherin, Potter. Your spell did not specify anything about speaking to Dumbledore concerning Harry Potter in general. I still have a full memory of our last conversation." Harry gave a weak chuckle. Trust Snape to find the loophole!

"And his answer convinced you of your error?" Harry presumed.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. This was just after Christmas break last year. He told me quite candidly he still had it. That he needed to be in possession of your things for the greater good. He still believed Voldemort would return."

"He did?" Harry asked, hardly surprised. He knew Dumbledore was one of the smartest men alive. Snape seemed to realise he didn't need to reply.

"He said he hadn't told me because he was waiting for me to figure it out. He always loved to test his favourites." Harry almost snorted at the sarcastic way Snape spat out the last word, but decided to remain quiet and let the man talk. "My mistake in putting my faith in Dumbledore to be the beacon of Light and righteousness made me examine my actions and feelings towards you." Here he turned to Harry fully again and locked black eyes with green. "I will never be a very Light wizards, but I believe I have managed to settle in a grey area at least… you on the other hand…" Snape sighed again, having difficulty in finishing.

"You don't have to say anything," Harry tried letting him off the hook. Snape shook his head. A Slytherin would always do what he set out to do.

"I borrowed Dumbledore's pensive and re-examined many of my memories of you. What I saw made me think, and I realised I had been wrong about many things… which, considering my past mistakes, shouldn't have come as such a surprise."

"You have redeemed yourself a hundred times over," Harry reassured the old spy. Snape waved away the comment.

"Not when it comes to this, to you… I am sorry." There, Snape had said it, and Harry smiled in gratitude. He couldn't believe the way the tables had turned. But that didn't stop him from apologising as well.

"I am sorry, too, Professor Snape. For violating your privacy." Snape shook his head.

"You have already apologies for that many times… I just didn't hear you, but now I accept your apology."

"And I accept yours." They both paused and simply looked at each other in this new light. Harry felt proud of the man before him, who had been through so much, and was finally able to let go of their past together. "Perhaps we can get to work now?"

"Of course. You said you needed me to vouch, and perhaps witness for you and also something else…" Snape trailed off. Harry had been a little vague during his firecall to the man.

"Come on, you'll see," Harry said, smirking slightly and leading the way back to the castle. Snape grumbled, but followed.

…

"Severus!" Dumbledore said brightly as the pair entered the Headmaster's office. "And who is this you bring with you?" His periwinkle blue eyes were twinkling brightly. Harry tried not to scowl, but Snape didn't seem to bother trying at all.

"It's me, Dumbledore. Harry Potter," Harry declared. Dumbledore only smiled wider, having obviously waited for Harry's return since he read the Prophet.

"Harry, my dear boy-"

"I would prefer it if you called me either Mr. Potter or Mr. Rosén," Harry informed the Headmaster coldly. This actually produced a decent amount of shock in Dumbledore's eyes. Fawkes appeared suddenly and gave a knowing and encouraging trill from its perch. Harry threw it a grateful smile. Snape glanced at the bird suspiciously, but otherwise stood stiff and silent.

"Headmaster, I was just summoned to your office by your phoenix. Highly unusual, Albus!" McGonagall said shrilly as the stepped into the office. She looked from Snape to Harry and her eyes widened at the latter.

"I knew it," she whispered. "You were Alex," she said. Harry nodded. He mentally gave her points for her observation skills. Not many could recognise him as Alex Rosén in his adult body.

"Please, sit down, Professor. I have much to say to Dumbledore, but I would like you here to listen," Harry said politely. The witch hesitated for only a moment, but then went over and sat in an armchair, using her wand to move it a bit out of the way first, so that she was sitting half-facing Harry and Snape standing before the desk.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't offer seats as if this is your office, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said coolly. Harry ignored the comment and fixed Dumbledore with a cold stare.

"All I want to know is why," he said in a deadly quiet tone.

"Why what?" Dumbledore countered.

"Where to start?" Harry said sarcastically. "How about why you didn't kill Nagini when I specifically told you-"

"You were in no position to tell me anything, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore declared rather haughtily. "You were my student-"

"I was almost eighteen and Hogwarts wasn't even open that year!"

"I did not believe Nagini was… important," Dumbledore said carefully, then smiled. "That was a mistakes that worked out rather well in the end… unless, of course, you have already killed Voldemort?"

"Of course I've bloody killed him!" Harry exclaimed incredulously. He felt as if he didn't even recognise Dumbledore, who was now frowning sadly.

"That wasn't part of my plan," he murmured.

"Oh, you had a plan?" Harry asked, the sarcasm dripping. "And what would tha-" Suddenly it dawned on him. 'Afterwards he kept trying to convince people he was the real hero, not Draco' Hermione's words echoed in his ears and it came to him like a blinding light, and then he saw everything. "You didn't want me to be the one to kill Voldemort." Dumbledore remained silent for a long time, merely watching Harry and debating with himself on what to say.

"Of course," he said, his voice sharp. "You, Harry Potter," he said the name mockingly, "should have done as you were told. As you always used to do. I was the one who did everything! I made sure you had your relatives' protection. I made sure you were ready and trained thanks to all your adventures. And yet you were getting all the credit." By this time Dumbledore had risen from his chair and stood glaring in a way Harry had never seen. "I destroyed Grindlewald! But does anybody remember that? No!... And then you go and be the martyr! Draco kills Voldemort and we have yet another hero unworthy of the title. A Slytherin no less!"

"I'm a Slytherin too now," Harry declared proudly. Dumbledore shook his head in apparent disappointment.

"Yes, I understand now how you were able to fail me so utterly. You always had too much Slytherin in you… and now you have failed me again!" Harry shook his head, shock and disbelief etched on his face.

"You thought you could kill Voldemort and be the hero? What about the prophecy!" Dumbledore rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Prophecies are only as good as the people who believe in them. They do not dictate the future. I would have gotten my power back if only you hadn't come back and messed things up yet again. Foolish boy." Snape and McGonagall hadn't moved a muscle the entire time; the latter had a hand covering her gaping mouth. Harry glared hard at his former mentor. All his hopes had been shattered. There had been an explanation, but it had been so far from anything he could have imagined. The old grandfather ruse was gone, in its place stood a bitter old, maybe insane, wizard who missed his loyal followers.

"And what about my Will?" Harry demanded.

"Did you expect me to hand over valuable objects to a Malfoy and a Slytherin when Voldemort was still out there?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're still naïve I see."

"Not any longer," Harry said, turning to McGonagall. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" he asked her, who had signed her name as witness on the parchment. She was shaking slightly and looked very old and frail, but her voice was steady.

"I believed him," she said miserably. "I thought it was for the best…" Harry shook his head sadly and addressed Fawkes.

"Go get them please," he asked. The phoenix trilled and disappeared. A dead silence settled over the room. Harry pulled out the scroll of parchment and unrolled it on the desk. Being magic, it stayed flat. Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height.

"What are you planning? You may be the hero again, but I am still Albus Dumbledore! I am the greatest wizard alive." Harry didn't answer, but turned to the fireplace as it suddenly flared to life. Four Aurors, including Ron, stepped out in two pairs, all with their wands raised and ready. Another man stepped out after them. He didn't look like an auror. He had fine clothes on and an official looking air about him. He was holding another scroll.

"Is this the will?" Ron asked, nodding towards the parchment on the desk. Harry nodded. Ron stepped forwards, and Harry could see the redhead was trying not to look too smug at being the one to do this.

"Albus Dumbledore, you are hereby under arrest," Ron said. "Please hand over your wand immediately." Dumbledore looked outraged and glanced over at Fawkes, who had appeared again. The phoenix trilled indignantly and flew to perch not on Harry's shoulder, but Snape's. The Potions Master looked up in wonder at the magnificent bird. Dumbledore looked about ready to pop. He stiffly and a little shakily got out his wand and handed it over. Knowing four Aurors and two war veterans were too much, even for him. McGonagall looked white as a ghost.

"What are the charges?" The Headmaster demanded. Ron stepped forwards and turned the man around. He placed standard magical handcuffs on him.

"Wilfully withholding the last will and testament of one Harry Potter. Indebting several wizards during the final battle for personal gain only, and last, but not least: Knowingly hindering the destruction of Voldemort," Ron informed the enraged man. The last man with the scroll stepped forward suddenly as Dumbledore was dragged towards the fireplace. His voice was small and squeaky, but no one could deny the authority it conveyed.

"As representative of the Governors of Hogwarts you are stripped from you title of Headmaster of this school. Your name will not even appear on the records." Now Dumbledore looked about ready to faint. Ron and the other aurors took care of him and they all disappeared in bursts of green flame one after the other, Ron making sure he took the will with him as evidence. The representative turned to Harry and Snape.

"The Governors debated quickly after you left, Mr. Potter," the man said. "And agreed with your suggestion." He turned to Snape. "The Governors have decided that you, Severus Snape, should take up the post as Headmaster. If Minerva McGonegall," the man cast a glance in her direction. She was still sitting zombie-like in the chair. "will teach is up to you." Harry had rarely seen Snape so stunned before. It was rather amusing and Harry suppressed a giggle. "As a hero of the final battle and long time spy for the Light we feel you will do a fine job, and Mr. Potter here had given you the highest recommendation." Snape turned to Harry, he was almost gaping, which said a lot about the state he was in. Harry grinned back.

"Thank you, Mr. Tidwell," Harry said with a short bow. The man returned it, bowing to Snape as well before stepping into the fireplace. Once he was gone Snape rounded on Harry with narrowed eyes. Fawkes trilled, sounding amused and flew to her usual perch beside the desk.

"Your highest recommendation, Potter?" he asked sceptically. Harry shrugged.

"You were the only one suited. I have great respect for you sir," he said sincerely. "Even before our walk by the lake."

"I can hardly believe it," Snape said in wonder. He glanced sideways at Harry. "You did all this in one day?"

"When I put my mind to it I can move quickly, even on the ground," he shrugged again. "Ron helped a lot of course. And Rite Skeeter, actually, which is rather ironic."

"Indeed," Snape drawled, then his eyes widened slightly. "You played for Slytherin," he said as if only just realising it. Harry grinned from ear to ear.

"And won the Cup," he said lightly. Snape chuckled, causing Harry to raise his eyebrows. He had never heard him do that before! They had come a long way in just one night.

"Excuse me," McGonagall suddenly spoke. Both men turned to her as she got unsteady up from her chair. "I am so sorry, Mr. Potter," she said, her eyes conveying her sincerity. She looked to Snape. "Headmaster I think it would be best if I resign, if you'll let me." Snape, not even blinking at the new title, nodded seriously. Harry agreed with him to let the witch leave with some dignity. He hadn't wanted to judge her until he understood why she hadn't told anyone, but now he couldn't be angry at her. He himself had fallen for Dumbledore's manipulations numerous times. McGonagall nodded stiffly.

"Then you will have my resignation on your desk tomorrow morning," she said. "Unless you want me to stay to the end of term?"

"I already have a few replacements in mind," Snape said vaguely, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow. "We need a new Potions Master, and I dare say a new DADA professor. I have been dying to sack the current one," Snape drawled. Harry snickered. "Perhaps now, with Voldemort finally gone, someone can retain the post for more than a year." The other two nodded in agreement and then McGonagall left the office. Snape and Harry looked at each other, new respect and a sense of being equals springing up inside them both.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Snape said softly.

"I would really prefer it if you called me Harry… or Alex." Snape's lips quirked.

"Very well…" he seemed to debate with himself. Harry was sure he would go for the latter, but Snape was nothing if not a man of surprises. "Harry then… I suppose you should get back to Malfoy Manor. They are probably waiting." Harry nodded.

"Good luck, Headmaster, I think you'll do a fine job," he said. He shook Snape's hand.

"Thank you. Give Draco and Cesare my love," Snape said softly. Harry had never realised how much he cared for the Malfoys, but Harry didn't act surprised. He merely smiled and nodded. Then he walked out of the office of Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Chapter 16: Getting To Work… Again

Harry heaved a weary sigh, laced with fondness, as the climbed the few steps of Malfoy Manor. He had just apparated from Hogwarts. The day and been long, much longer than anticipated, and he couldn't wait to see Draco and Cesare again. He hadn't even eaten anything all day! He had run out the door before breakfast even. All he had managed was coffee when he had been meeting with the governors.

"Good to be home," he murmured, making a mental note to get his things out of Grimmauld Place. He had no desire to live in the dreary place any longer. His home was with Draco and their son. He pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

"There you are!" came Draco's shout the moment he was in. Harry closed the door sheepishly as Draco stalked over to him. He had obviously been pacing the entrance hall. "'I'll come back later,' you say!" Draco scolded. Harry resisted the urge to tell his love that he was acting like Hermione or Mrs. Weasley, or Harry's own mother.

"Sorry, things took a little longer than planned," he explained. Draco huffed, but still came closer and pulled Harry down into a kiss. Harry melted instantly, all the tenseness from the day fading as he wrapped his arms around his Draco. His blond lover pulled away before things could deepen, causing Harry to pout. Draco took his hand and started leading him.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked.

"To our guests. They are impatient to see you," Draco said simply. Harry's eyebrows drew together.

"Are Ron and Hermione here? Why are they impatient?"

"You'll see," was the only reply he got. "You're not the only one who's been busy. I've been going crazy organizing all the owls from people demanding answers. They've even come knocking on the door and firecalling." Harry felt guilty leaving Draco in the chaos Rita Skeeter's article had undoubtedly caused. He didn't have time to say anything, however, as they were nearing the open doors to what was known as the 'small' ballroom. Draco let go of Harry's hand and indicated he should stand still just out of view of the occupants inside. This meant Harry couldn't see who was inside either. Suddenly Harry realised he could hear a lot of people talking.

"If I may have your attention?" Harry heard murmurs rise a notch before dying down quickly. He gulped. What on earth was going on? "I give you the resurrected Harry Potter, or Alex Rosén as he also goes by now. I'm sure he is very sorry for not informing you immediately, but in his defence we were not aware of the article before this morning… Harry?" Draco turned and held out his hand. Harry uncertainly stepped forward and took it. He turned to face the ballroom and gasped, along with everybody else in the room.

Everybody was there: Ron, Hermione (the twins obviously still in school), Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ginny with her child, Fred and George, Bill and Fleur (their children in the school in France), Charlie, Blaise Zabini, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, even Mr. and Mrs. Rosén stood smiling in a corner, and last, but certainly not least; Remus Lupin. They were all staring at Harry with shock, or in case of Ron and Hermione with big smirks. Cesare was there too, beaming at his parents from across the room. Draco pulled Harry after him into the room and then let go, making gestures with his hands as if to present Harry to them.

Suddenly all his friends and family surrounded Harry. The noise was deafening. They were all trying to shake his hand, clap him on the back or hug him to death. Molly Weasley was sobbing into her handkerchief and kept repeating: 'Oh you're so tall and handsome now!'

Blaise was watching with a smirk and the twins were trying to inform Harry about how all his earnings from their shop had been donated over the years to various causes. Harry had never realised until this moment exactly how many people had missed him and grieved for him. It was an overwhelming feeling and Harry was choking more on his emotions than the hugs. All these people loved him. He had thought he had gained a family by being born a Rosén, but all this time he had already had one! And now they were both together in one room. Harry felt like he was floating through a dream.

"Give the man some room!" Ron bellowed. People started stepping back slightly and letting him breathe. They all beamed at him, many with tears in their eyes or falling down their cheeks. Harry looked around and spotted Remus. He looked older, of course, and his hair had a lot more grey streaks running through it. But he looked much lighter in spirit than the last time Harry had seen him. He stepped forward now and people backed away even more. Some going over to what Harry realised were round tables and chairs set up as if at a ball. A long table stood at one end with refreshment and snacks. Remus smiled at Harry.

"You certainly look good Harry… I am… well, I don't know what exactly."

"Believe me, I know the feeling. It's… surreal." Remus nodded in agreement and then opened his arms. Harry stepped into the embrace and hugged the man tightly. It was weird being a few inches taller than the werewolf, but Harry was too busy revelling in the moment. When they pulled apart Remus looked over Harry's shoulder.

"I see you still take your looks from your father," he said. Harry turned and saw his parents had come over. He quickly hugged them both in greeting, feeling a little teary eyed himself. He beamed as he introduced them to Remus.

"Mother, Father, this is Remus Lupin. He was, is, my adoptive godfather. Remus, this is Elisabeth and Kenneth Rosén, my parents." Remus held out his hand and greeted both the Roséns. Even though they had been waiting for Harry, they hadn't really gotten to talk. It had been rather awkward, but with Harry there things went smoother.

"A pleasure," Remus said sincerely.

"Adoptive you say?" Kenneth asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's a long story," Remus said, glancing at Harry, who grinned.

"Yes, I think there are many of these long stories about our Alex we need to hear," Kenneth mused aloud.

"You are the Mr. Lupin from the Werewolf Foundation?" Elisabeth asked suddenly. Remus eyed her warily, but answered.

"Yes, I am he."

"Oh, I am such a fan of your work, Mr. Lupin," she said at once, shaking his hand once again. Remus raised his eyebrows in shock and Harry snickered, knowing how long his mother could go on about all kinds of causes. He made a mental note to introduce her to Hermione. They were sure to get on splendidly! "I myself am trying my hardest to secure a future for the natural wonders of Norway, though of course a human cause such as yours is much nobler-"

"Not at all," Remus said with a smile. "Nature is just as important to preserve as people." Elisabeth beamed and Kenneth not-so-discreetly rolled his eyes at Harry, who snickered even more.

"Oh, hush you too," the witch scolded. "Mr. Lupin, have you considered writing a book?"

"A book?" Remus asked dubiously.

"A biography," Elisabeth said, nodding eagerly. "I am such a fan of biographies and I believe it would be an excellent fundraising strategy!" Remus looked thoughtful at that.

"We'll leave you two to discuss things," Kenneth said smoothly, knowing his wife well and not bothered in the least that she wanted to talk to Remus. He and Harry walked away and the latter introduced his father to the Weasleys.

That was the first of many introductions during the night. Harry had to talk to everybody, but luckily Draco had told them the tale of how he got to be there and about Voldemort, so he didn't have to repeat it at all. Harry had never been one to be comfortable at big gatherings, but this time he simply didn't have time to be nervous. He was passed from one person to the other; everybody wanted to simply be near him.

Sometime during the night they had all sat down. Harry was currently sitting with the twins, trying to tell them again he didn't want the profits and that they should keep giving it away. Draco stood up and walked to the middle of the ballroom, facing the crowd and looking rather regal.

"Harry, could you come up here?" he asked. Harry did so and everybody fell quiet. Draco looked at Harry intently, his eyes betraying his nervousness to his lover who knew him well. Harry frowned, wondering what could make Draco nervous.

It wasn't until Draco suddenly took a deep breath got down on one knee that Harry gasped and realised what was up. He opened his mouth to shout 'YES!' but Draco silenced him with a hand, and Harry let him speak, wanting to hear everything the blond had to say.

"Harry… Alex..." Draco began with a rueful smile. Harry laughed breathily, completely awed by the sight of Draco in front of him. "We have been through so much together, and apart. You have truly become the Boy Who Lived Despite Everything," at this a few quiet chuckles came from the crowd, "We have a wonderful son together… and I have never stopped loving you for one moment during the years we were parted. I would look into Cesare's eyes and wish you with us, and here you are. And it is the most magical thing in the history of magic." Harry had tears falling down his cheeks now. Draco gazed up at him with love and adoration, looking like the perfect gentleman. He was always the perfect gentleman.

"Your families from past and present are now here with us and I was wondering if you would accept me as your husband. I know I am rather old for you," Harry was startled into a laugh. Draco smiled. "But I think we can handle that little detail considering the things we have overcome, don't you?" Draco reached into his robes and produced a black box. He opened it up and Harry gasped again at the beautiful silver band. On it was the Malfoy family crest. It was small and pressed into the silver. "Will you marry me, Harry Alex Rosén Potter?"

"Yes, forever yes," Harry said at once. Draco took Harry's hand and slid the ring on. He rose gracefully to his feet and kissed Harry's hand before looking deep into the green pools.

"Kiss!" a voice bellowed. Harry knew it could only be Ron because in the next moment a loud 'Ow!' was heard and that was surely Hermione kicking him under the table. The lovers smiled at each other and Harry ducked his head, tasting the sweet lips of his soon-to-be husband. Cheering and applause erupted and once again Harry was surrounded by his family.

He couldn't stop laughing or crying for a very long time. He lifted Cesare into his arms and hugged his son tightly. He beamed when Elisabeth repeatedly kissed his cheeks until his father had to pull her away so he could hug his son. Molly Weasley made his shoulder so wet he had to do a drying charm. Hermione and Ginny were suspiciously whispering to each other and Harry suspected they were already discussion the wedding. When Molly and Elisabeth joined them Harry groaned and Draco smirked.

"Mother, Father," Harry said a while later when he cornered his parents after all the well wishing had calmed down a bit. They smiled at him, Kenneth putting an arm around his wife's shoulder in his familiar way. Harry smiled back at them, even though he was a little nervous.

"Yes?" Elisabeth pressed. Harry cleared his throat.

"Are you guys ok with this?" he asked in Norwegian. "I mean, it must be strange suddenly having your twelve year old about to get married and already having a twelve year old of his own!" Elisabeth smiled and gave a small laugh. Kenneth nodded ruefully.

"Yes, it is a bit strange," Elisabeth said. "But we love you, Alex, and want you to be happy. We understand, though we need to get used to it, and Cesare is adorable! He's got your eyes, Alex," she gushed.

"Listen, about that," Harry said, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. "My name," he said. His parents exchanged a glance and they looked back at him a little shocked.

"You want us to call you Harry?" Kenneth asked.

"Nonono!" Harry hastened to reassure them. "You gave me that name and I want you to use it, but I was thinking…. I'm still Harry Potter… and soon I'll be a Malfoy too-" When his parents smiled knowingly Harry blushed slightly for some reason. He was still a bit dazed with the whole getting married thing. "So I was thinking the best way was to take Malfoy as a last name, and maybe… Alex as a middle one? That way you could still call me that, but all my friends can still can call me Harry." His parents seemed warm to the idea and both nodded agreeably.

"That is a practical solution," his mother concluded. Harry smiled in relief.

"Good."

"But wasn't your…" Kenneth seemed to struggle with the words, "first name Harry James Potter… the name of your first father?" Harry nodded seriously.

"It was, and I'll always be grateful that they gave their lives for me. But you are my parents. I love you and I want to keep Alex. It's my name. Harry is the one they gave me and I'm keeping that too," he explained quietly.

"You're taking one name from each family," Kenneth mused aloud. "I knew I was right when I said you had grown into a wise young man." Elisabeth nodded proudly and they all hugged again. Harry had never felt so elated in all his two lives as he looked around the ballroom. This was the most perfect day in his whole existence, even if Dumbledore had failed him. It didn't matter anymore. None of that mattered.

The evening seemed to go on forever, and soon Harry was almost falling over where he stood. It had been the longest day of both his lives. At midnight Draco actually ordered them to leave, saying he would invite them all back for Christmas, and that Harry was sure to visit them before then as well. Harry had never been so grateful for the authority that Draco could exude. The goodbyes took almost half and hour, but finally they were alone. Just Harry, Draco and Cesare standing in a very messy ballroom.

"Let's go to bed," Draco said tiredly. Harry nodded and Cesare yawned. "Tomorrow you go back to Hogwarts. You've missed three days already." Cesare nodded, still yawning, and they all walked dazedly from the room.

Once they had said goodnight to their son and were finally in their bedroom they were both too tired to do much of anything. Harry stripped quickly, getting under the covers with a content sigh. Draco did the same on the other side.

"Tomorrow I have to go to Grimmauld Place and get my stuff," Harry said.

"And we should go shopping after we drop Cesare off at Hogwarts," Draco suggested. "Your father's old clothes fit you, but I think you should have your own wardrobe, don't you?" he drawled.

"Ugh, I hate shopping," Harry moaned pitifully even as he opened his arms so Draco could cuddle close to him. "…still," he added as an afterthought. Draco snorted.

"All you have to do is stand there. I'll take care of the rest. I would think that growing up in a rich pureblood family it would have taught you appreciation for the acquisition of the finer things in life." Harry rolled his eyes, though Draco couldn't see because his head was resting on Harry's shoulder.

"Ow!" Harry exclaimed suddenly when Draco poked him rather hard.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," Draco said sternly. "I won't have my husband in old robes."

"We're not married yet," Harry reminded his lover. "But we sure sound like it." Draco lifted his head and smirked at Harry.

"I know. It sounds great, doesn't it?" he asked cheekily. Harry only smiled.

"Yes, it does." Draco leaned down and captured Harry's lips. It was sweet and didn't go anywhere, but it was more than enough for Harry, who promptly fell asleep the moment Draco drew away. Draco spent a few moments studying his lover's face. He decided that even though he had loved the face of Harry Potter, the face of this Harry Alex Malfoy was something he could easily live with too. He kissed Harry's forehead and then snuggled down for one of those amazingly peaceful nights he always seemed to enjoy in Harry's arms.

…

Harry awoke to the most wonderful feeling, not to mention arousing. Draco was nibbling behind his ear, while his hand was stroking Harry to hardness.

"Uh," Harry grunted as he felt himself harden completely. Draco chuckled, breathing into Harry's ear as he spoke.

"Morning love," he whispered. "Thought I would make up for my lack of performance last night."

"Hmmm," Harry murmured. "I don't think I'm awake properly yet, so you'll have to be on top, one way or another."

"Really?" Draco drawled. "One way or another, hmmm? As the younger one, you should really be the one on top, you know. I might break a hip." Harry was startled into laughter.

"Ten years is not that big a difference when we're both adults you know," he said. "And thirty is hardly old, even in the muggle world."

(This scene is edited due to its content! In fact, I'm so sick of editing sex scenes that I decided to just cut it out entirely. Sorry.)

…

"I think that made up for it," Harry commented a while later when they had calmed down. Draco hummed in agreement and slid off. They got showered and dressed together, Harry putting on the same robes again, though the elves washed them of course during the night. They went down to the breakfast room, as Harry called it, and greeted Cesare with a kiss to the cheek from each. Cesare couldn't seem to stop grinning and neither could Harry.

"I didn't manage to get a word in last night, but congratulation!" Cesare beamed. Draco smiled at his son and Harry grinned widely.

"Thank you, son," Draco said. "You'll be the ring-bearer at the ceremony, no?" Cesare nodded eagerly. "Good. But I think we'll save the rest of the planning for the ladies. I wouldn't want to deprive them of the pleasure." Harry and Cesare both snorted at the same time, but neither commented on it. They ate breakfast, talking and laughing and just being a family. Afterwards they all got ready to take the floo directly to the Headmaster's office. Harry had told them all about what happened last night, and Draco had been very eager to finally see Snape again after all these years of self-imposed imprisonment on his part. He had always read the man's letters, but hardly ever replied, even after last Christmas, and Harry could tell his lover was feeling guilty.

When they arrived, all three of them at once through the large fireplace, Snape rose gracefully from his chair behind the enormous desk. Harry smirked at the new robes. They were still black, but seemed much more extravagant compared to the rather plain robes he had worn before. Harry wondered if the house elves had provided it, for it was the same cut as Dumbledore's, and if they had slaved through the night to get it ready.

"Draco, it is good to see you again," Snape said as he shook his former student's hand.

"And you, Severus. Congratulations on your new post." Severus nodded his thanks and greeted Harry before looking down at Cesare, standing between his two fathers.

"You have missed three and a half day of classes," he remarked dryly. Cesare gulped. "But I suppose under the circumstances that can be forgiven, as long as you catch up quickly…?"

"Yes, sir, Headmaster," Cesare said at once. Harry and Draco smiled, and Snape's lip almost quirked.

"Good. Off you go then. If you hurry you can still catch your next class, though your last class of the day is cancelled due to it being Potions." Cesare nodded and said goodbye to his parents before hurrying off. Snape motioned for the pair left to sit and he took his chair again. "I am still settling in, so to speak, and Dumbledore left quite a mess, so I haven't had time to teach the class."

"You don't seem too broken up about it," Draco commented with a smirk. Snape tilted his head, neither denying or agreeing, and Harry chuckled.

"I am glad you two came along," Snape said. He paused as if unsure how to continue. Harry decided to help him out.

"This is the part were you offer us tea and lemondrops," he said.

"Ah, yes, of course, how remiss of me," Snape drawled. "Coffee?" he asked casually and Harry burst into laughter, but nodded. Once Snape had called a house elf for their coffee and they were all happily drinking from their cups, Snape tried again.

"I wanted to offer you a job, both of you in fact," he said. Harry looked shocked while Draco seemed intrigued.

"I presume you have already sacked the DADA professor?" he inquired.

"Of course," Snape said in all seriousness. "The man was incompetent. You on the other hand, Harry, would be an ideal choice for the post."

"Me? Teach?" Harry asked. He had never considered it. His career choices has been Auror or Quiddith player.

"I would certainly be willing to teach Potions, if that is the job you intended for me. I can't imagine it's Transfiguation."

"No, indeed it is not. You had the makings of a Master," Snape said, a tad regretful. Draco sighed. "But that is past. You are, however, still competent enough to teach it… are you not?"

"Yes, I'm sure I can… and it would keep us close to Cesare, if you're willing, that is?" Draco turned to Harry, who suddenly was very exited about the idea.

"When do we start?" he asked. Snape shook his head at the turnabout.

"As soon as possible," he said. "I also need to speak with Mrs. Granger-Weasley. I was hoping she would be interested in the Transfiguration post. Perhaps then we can all have some peace from the new Weasley twins." Harry and Draco chuckled at the rather dark look in Snape's eyes when he thought of the pranksters.

"You would need to convince her to leave SPEW and all her other causes, but I think it can be done," Harry said.

"Good. I'll give you until after Christmas to get ready. Exams this term will have to be cancelled."

"Well, it's not like it hasn't happened before," Harry said, remembering his first time going to Hogwarts during his forth year, not to mention his non-existent seventh.

"Indeed," Snape said. "Well if that is all I really have a lot of work to get to. But I hope we will see each other again soon?" They all rose at the same time.

"Of course, Severus," Draco assured the man. Harry's face suddenly lit up.

"I almost forgot!" he exclaimed. He held out the hand with the ring on it. "Draco asked me to marry him." Snape raised his eyebrows, the extent of him showing his surprise, and examined the ring. Draco blushed ever so faintly when the man looked at him.

"Congratulations," Snape said sincerely.

"Thank you," Draco said. "You must come to the wedding of course. Though we haven't planned anything yet or set a date."

"I would be… honoured," Snape seemed to have trouble saying the word 'delighted'.

"Then we'll let you work," Draco said and they bid the man farewell. Harry groaned when he heard their next destination as Draco shouted it out. He really hated shopping.

[I warned you about the fluff didn't I? Just so you know: I'm NOT going to write the shopping scene. That was just a funny ending (read: only one I could think of) and next chapter

Epilogue

Dumbledore didn't go to Azkaban for his crimes due to his age unfortunately, and the fact that he pleaded temporary insanity. He was put under house arrest. Since he didn't have a house, because he had been living at Hogwarts for over four decades, Harry offered Grimmauld Place as a suitable location. There was a brief moment of uncertainty when the Wizengamot didn't want to inflict Dumbledore's company on a house elf. Luckily Snape informed them that Kreacher was still following the last orders his master gave him, and was working in the kitchens. Harry told the elf to go work for Dumbledore. He hoped they would be very happy together.

The whole tale of how Harry was reborn and destroyed Voldemort once and for all was published in the Daily Prophet, accurately and without crazy speculation. Most people were fine with the reincarnation bit, but a lot of people had a problem with Cesare. Harry and Draco made sure to redirect all their son's mail and burned the howlers before the boy could even see them. Most of them were for the parents, though, and they burned those as well. Rita Skeeter was for once doing something good with her articles, and many other hopeless romantic witches supported them. Biographies of Harry were rewritten to include the new elements of their love story and how Draco was practically forced into his marriage with Pansy. So, not everything was accurate or without speculation.

Hermione, after much coaxing from Harry, Draco and Ron, finally accepted the post as Transfiguration Professor. By the next term they were all living at Hogwarts, Ron having to floo to work, but not seeming to mind in the slightest since he got to be close to his boys. The Weasley twins were of course horrified they couldn't do pranks in three classes now! They still tried in Harry's class, hoping their "old" friend would allow it considering their time together. They quickly learnt not to do that.

Because of all the work trying to get the students up to date with the material they missed, Harry and Draco decided to post-pone the wedding until the summer. So that is of course where we take you now…

…(AN: Just so it's said: I'm crap at writing weddings. I usually skip them, but my sis DEMANDED I have a proper ceremony this time... forgive me)

Had Pansy Parkinson stood in the garden at Malfoy Manor that very moment she would have been squealing for joy at the thought of hosting her party there. Luckily she is dead and won't be hosting anything anymore.

The weather had been kind to the new couple, and the sun was shining from cloudless skies. The garden itself was in full bloom. White chairs had been set up for the guests in neat rows. Garlands of flowers decorated everything. There was a beautiful arch, seemingly made naturally from two trees, which had been bended by magic for the occasion, and stood at the front. The branches intertwined almost as lovers.

The guest list consisted of Draco and Harry's friends and family, including a good amount of Roséns from Norway. Harry's story had reached the international wizarding community and he was now pretty much the most famous wizard ever, everywhere. Still, about half had declined and Harry suspected it was because of his choice of partner, not to mention his son.

There was also a number of members from the purebloods in Britain, since Draco was obviously related to them all. Only those who approved one hundred percent were allowed to attend. No reporters were allowed anywhere near the Manor.

Harry stood in front of a full-length mirror in the guestroom he had been using to change. He was wearing beautiful emerald green marriage robes, even though he had protested slightly at the colour. He was more comfortable in less 'flashy' colours, but everybody had insisted. It was highlighted in silver and underneath he wore black slacks and a black button-down shirt with silver buttons.

His hair had a magical shine to it and was tied back with a green ribbon. As he gazed into the mirror he focused on the feint birthmark on his forehead. It seemed to have faded even more since Voldemort's death, but Harry knew it would always be there as a reminder. At least it wasn't as visible as it had been as a scar.

Just then the door opened and four witches entered; Hermione, Ginny, Molly and Elisabeth. They were all looking fabulous. The two older women had robes on, while the younger had opted for light summer dresses, Ginny no doubt having been convinced to try one on by Hermione. Harry turned around and smiled at them.

"You look fabulous, sweetie," Elisabeth said, coming forward and hugging him, being careful not to wrinkle or upset anything. The others beamed at the loving mother and son. As Harry pulled back his lips quirked slyly.

"Why is it all the women come to visit me? Does that mean I'm the bride?" he asked cheekily, producing chuckles from the witches.

"Not at all," Hermione said. "In fact, I have a theory." Harry groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically, causing Ginny to snicker.

"Don't you always," he declared. Hermione huffed in mock-indignation.

"Fine, then I'm not going to tell you about it."

"Now, we're almost ready for you," Elisabeth interrupted Harry's retort. "Are you ready?" she asked, looking at him intently.

"More than ready," Harry said softly. "I've waited long enough!" They laughed again and two of the Weasley women left after hugging and checking Harry over once more. Apparently they didn't trust him to dress himself! Elisabeth followed after another hug.

"You sure you don't want to know?" Hermione asked casually as she glided over to her best friend. Harry grinned; he knew she was fishing.

"Fine, let's hear this theory of yours."

"I think," Hermione paused for effect. "That Draco likes to play the man in public, putting on his 'Lord Malfoy' mask, and that you let him." Harry tilted his head to the side in thought. "But the second you're in private… well, let's just say I know from experience all about Gryffindor Lions."

"Hermione!" Harry cried in shock as she smirked. He thought about it and realised Ron was pretty much whipped in public and that meant- No, Harry did not want to think about that! EVER!

"Oh, you're no fun. Come on, my coin is buzzing, it's time." Hermione had kept up the use of the DA coins between her and her husband, and now Ron easily told them to get a move on. They left the room, Harry ignoring Hermione pointedly while she snickered at his still blushing face.

… (AN: Again, just for the record, the only wedding I've been at was my parents', and I was one year old. So perhaps I should have waited for my friend to get married in September... but I don't think you would have wanted to wait...?)

Since they were both male the ceremony had to be altered slightly. Harry would start directly opposite Draco and they would walk towards each other, meeting at the bottom of the aisle. They would join hands and walk up to the arch together. Since the garden was a huge open space two small white tents with golden ropes holding the folds closed were set up from each groom's starting point. Harry had apparated directly inside, and was now standing alone, shifting nervously and trying to breathe steady.

First Ron and Hermione walked up the aisle, followed by Ginny and Blaise (the former having just managed to dump her current boyfriend for the occasion, but didn't seem too upset about it). After them came a beaming Cesare Malfoy, holding the little pillow, not caring if some of the people thought him a little old for the job.

Fawkes had lent his services and when everything was ready he began his song, a wonderful song that filled every heart with a light spirit. That didn't stop Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Rosén from going teary eyed already, clutching their bemused husbands for support.

The golden ropes magically parted the folds and Harry stepped out. His breath hitched when he spotted Draco doing the same directly in front of him. Every head was turned to get a good look at the pair. Draco looked wonderful in silver robes, highlighted with emerald green, wearing the same black underneath. His hair seemed to glow preternaturally in the sun. His eyes matched his robes perfectly, as if they were liquid silver.

Slowly the pair walked towards each other. It was impossible to really find a beat in the Phoenix' song, but that didn't matter. When they drew close their hands reached out and clasped together. It seemed forever before Harry could tear his eyes away from Draco and look up towards the trees. The Ministry official was waiting under the arch. The two pairs and Cesare standing on either side.

All the guests thought that the couple practically glided on air up to the arch. By now there was hardly a witch there with dry eyes, and the wizards weren't much better. Hagrid was bawling into his enormous polka dotted handkerchief.

Finally they reached the trees and stood under the arch. Harry couldn't take his eyes away from Draco for one moment, and hardly heard a word of what the Ministry official was saying. He only realised he was supposed to say 'I do' because Draco raised his eyebrows. He quickly complied, sounding breathless, and Draco seemed very smug. The ceremony continued and Harry's heart fluttered when he heard Draco repeat the vow. Soon it was time for the rings, and Cesare was grinning so much that surely his face would split in two.

"I now pronounce you bonded for life, may you bring happiness and support to one another for ever more, until death do you part," the Ministry official declared. Draco chuckled ruefully.

"I don't think death is going to part us, do you Harry?" he asked. The crowd laughed, but to Harry it was like an echo from far, far away.

"Well, it already tried once," Harry said softly. "Perhaps it's given up." Another round of laughter from their guests was heard. Harry and Draco were smiling at each other, simply soaking up the amazing love and affection burning in each other's eyes. The Ministry official coughed discreetly and Harry realised Draco was waiting for him. He quickly leaned down just as Draco tilted his head up and then their lips met perfectly, a complete melding of bodies, souls and spirits.

The roar of applause and cheering from the crowd was enough to give Harry his hearing back. He grinned when he pulled back and took Draco's hand again. A sly smile was on the blonde's lips. They walked down the aisle together, Cesare skipping along in their wake, and the magic arch reappeared at the end so they could walk through it once more. They stopped and kissed again under it, producing louder clapping and yelling.

Harry had never felt so dazed and oversensitive at the same time in his life. It was like he could hear everything at high volume, yet nothing seem to penetrate as he looked at Draco, his husband, or Cesare, his son. He had a sense of belonging and identity he had never felt before. In his past life he had been a title, the Boy Who Lived. In his next life things had been great, but he had been cut off from the few things in his past that he loved. Now the lives had melded and he was Harry Alex Malfoy, three names, one each from the families he loved.

He was still the Boy Who Lived (Again), but his celebrity status wasn't something huge and daunting he didn't know how to deal with, because now he had so much support from all around him. He felt as if he could do anything… even defy death itself.

…

A few years later… on February the 29th

"There is the other birthday boy!" Draco cried in a mock-babying tone as if speaking to a four year old. Harry grumbled as he walked into the sitting/dining room they had at Hogwarts, ignoring the gigantic pile of presents in the corner and flopping ungracefully down in his chair. Their son had joined them for the special occasion.

They had realised, with joyous cries from Cesare, that he and Harry now shared the same birthday. Harry had been born early and Cesare had been born late, but not by much since he had been conceived a day before Harry had died. Since then it was a standing joke around the school that Harry and Cesare not only had the same birthday, but became the same age as well, despite Harry's aging potion, not to mention his full set of memories from decades ago.

"Seventeen years!" Draco cried fondly, in a good impression of Mrs. Weasley. "You have finally become a man." Cesare sniggered into his hand and Harry shot him a glare. Why was it he never enjoyed his birthdays no matter which life he was living? A thought struck him and he leered towards Draco.

"I thought I proved to you last night what a man I was," he smirked. Draco rolled his eyes and swatted him on the shoulder.

"Nothing vulgar at the breakfast table, husband of mine," he scolded. Harry began to eat his breakfast, all his favourites, and went back to grumbling.

"Father, stop teasing Dad," Cesare said. "And Dad, stop being vulgar. You don't want to give your impressionable son ideas now, do you?" Cesare raised an eyebrow, making the expression that made him look most like his Father. Draco mock-huffed.

"And who exactly is the parent in this house?" he drawled sarcastically.

"With you two I'm not sure," Cesare answered cheekily. Harry snickered, making Cesare's point for him. But Harry sobered quickly and looked at his son.

"Happy birthday Ces. You have actually become a man today," he said, sending a quick glare at Draco.

"Thank you, Dad, and happy birthday… why is it you always get more presents than me?" Cesare asked with a pout. Harry knew he was faking, since Harry never bothered to open many of them, but donated them to charities (he let Draco check the contents first of course). They continued to eat without further vulgar comments from Harry, or teasing from Draco.

Cesare had grown up far too quickly for Harry's liking, but he couldn't be prouder of the man he had now become. Cesare was much more confident now with two loving fathers, not to mention that they were always close so he could get quick and wise advice. He had joined the Quiddith team as a seeker for Slytherin in his third year, and was very good, which wasn't a surprise to anyone. His ambition was pure Slytherin, and Draco would perhaps have been very proud if it wasn't for the fact that it was never pointed in the same direction for more than a month. This month Cesare had decided that his 'life-long ambition' was to become a famous muggle musician, punk music being his newest interest. He had therefore dyed the tips of his platinum blond hair black and let it grow out so it hung around his face. Needless to say, Draco wasn't exactly thrilled.

As Harry mused on what Cesare would next become interested in a flurry of owls came through the window with even more presents, but these were from people he actually wanted to get presents from. Every bird carried two presents and cards, one for both the birthday 'boys'.

"You'll have to open them later," Draco declared, waving his wand and putting the presents in two piles on the coffee table over by the fireplace. Harry and Cesare pouted, causing Draco to roll his eyes again. "You both have class, though I forget which one is attending and which one is teaching." Harry snorted and got up. Since they lived in the dungeons (Draco had been made Head of Slytherin the year prior, the youngest in Hogwarts' history, so that meant they had to live there.) Harry had to walk all the way up to his classroom on the third floor. But he didn't mind, because here he was closer to Cesare, and he would live wherever Draco needed to. (For those of you wondering Hermione had been made Head of Gryffindor exactly one year later. Harry suspected the Headmaster had waited just so Draco would have the honour. No one said Snape had become completely fair.)

"See you at lunch then," Harry said, kissing Draco softly. Both birthday boys rose and then Harry pulled Cesare to him, kissing his son's forehead.

"Dad! I'm a man now," Cesare complained, but he didn't look too put out. At least they were in private.

"Well if I'm suppose to be your age, then I know you can still be pretty childish," Harry countered as he shrugged on his teacher's robes and picked up his bag. Cesare very maturely stuck his tongue out.

"Alright, off you go. Don't you have Transfiguration first?" Draco asked Cesare pointedly. The boy, now man, gulped and hurried off, knowing Aunt Hermione would not be more lenient with him just because both his parents were professors.

"See you at lunch," Harry said, walking over and stealing another kiss from Draco, who returned it briefly before pushing him away. Harry was almost at the door when Draco called after him, getting up from the breakfast table and hurrying over.

"Wait! I forgot, Severus found a boggart somewhere for you to use." He pulled out a piece of parchment from his robe and handed it to Harry, who looked down dubiously at the detailed directions to a seventh floor closet. Draco shrugged, "He said you would never find it without a map… I think he's trying to make you tell him about your map by making you think he's gone to so much trouble for you." Harry snorted. Trust Severus to try and guilt him into things. He pocketed the directions and finally left for his first class.

As he walked down the hallways of Hogwarts he wore the smile that was so often seen on his face nowadays. He greeted the students who waved hello to their favourite professor, and he laughed as the Weasley twins ran at breakneck speed past him to get to Transfiguration. Hermione would take point from Gryffindor for sure; Harry inwardly winced at the thought. He still held some warm feelings for his very old house.

Many students and all the professors wished him a happy birthday and Harry nodded his thanks until his neck was starting to creak. But he didn't mind. Another year had gone by without any more dangerous incidents than the pranks his son and the Weasley twins pulled on occasion. He could live with that, he concluded.

… (AN: For those of you who don't really enjoy mpreg consider this fic officially over. For you other people you can thank my sister for DEMANDING this scene be added. I'm way too nice sometimes... That said this scene may not make all that much sense... at least I don't think so, but my sister was appeased.)

Later that evening the small family was gathered in Harry and Draco's quarters. Harry was pouring firewhiskey in glasses so they could toast. Cesare was very keen on getting his first taste since he was a man now.

"Nothing for me, thank you, Harry," Draco said suddenly, rising from where he was seated on the couch. "I'll just have water," he said as he came over to Harry and Cesare. The former looked at his husband oddly.

"You can't toast our birthdays with water," he protested. Draco sighed overdramatically.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but it will have to do," he said sadly. Harry's brow furrowed.

"Why? This is your favourite brand of firewhiskey and tomorrow's Saturday," he said, confused. Cesare was looking at Draco curiously, and Harry was sure his son was picking up something he was missing.

"I can't have firewhiskey, or any alcohol… for at least eight months…" Harry stared stupidly at Draco, who was now smirking faintly. Cesare started vibrating with excitement, proving he was indeed not past childish behaviour.

"You-…?" Harry couldn't form words or thoughts.

"Oh, Father that's wonderful!" Cesare cried, unable to hold it in. He hugged Draco, they were now the same height, and Draco kept smirking at Harry while they embraced. When they parted Cesare grinned at Harry, while Draco smiled slyly. Harry's mouth was hanging slightly open.

"But… how?" Harry asked. He thought he had understood the whole process, but apparently once again Draco had managed it without him!

"I wanted it," Draco said with a half shrug. "Your magic was obviously willing, even if it wasn't conscious on your part. It took much longer this time, but I took a potion to help it along. Me and Severus have been working on it for over a year."

"A year? Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked. Draco was starting to look a little worried and was now frowning.

"I wanted it to be a surprise… happy birthday?" Cesare was now almost glaring at his dad. Harry immediately recognised his mistake and pulled Draco into his arms.

"Happy birthday? This is the best birthday present I could have imagined," he said sincerely, whispering fiercely into Draco's blond hair. He felt his husband sigh. He tilted Draco's head up and kissed him sweetly. Cesare laughed delightedly.

"So… have you had Pomfrey spell-check what sex it will be?" Harry asked softly when their lips parted.

"Yes… a boy," Draco whispered and Harry felt his heart swell to the point of breaking. It was surely too much. Had his past life really been so full of crap that he deserved all this?

"Yes," Draco whispered as if he had read Harry's thoughts. "You deserve everything." Their lips pressed together again and Harry's mind went back over the past four weeks, trying to remember when their lovemaking had felt particularly special. But he couldn't. Because it always felt like they were making magic.

The End - Fin - Slutt

END NOTE:

YAY! There you go. It's done. It is NO MORE! Well, maybe, maybe one day I will write a sequel. To me it is always a possibility. Would anyone be interested in hearing more from Cesare? Who knows what my muse will come up with in the future.

---