Archive of Our Own

Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.

Author's Note: This fic was my life for several months. An idea floated into my brain and did not let me go until I finished this. Written for 2009 hds_beltane fest.

Beta(s) Thank you to all who helped me with research and cheered me on, including cleo_jay, tari_sue, thesamanthahope, and winnett.

DedicationA special thank you to my husband who had to put up with my long ramblings, my sudden interest in tree lore, and my never ending spelling questions. I hope you all enjoy this as I tried to make something special.

“Potter, just get rid of it. Burn it, bury it, have tiny rats nibble on it until it’s unrecognizable. Just destroy it. It’s an evil thing and I'm disgusted just looking at it.”

Harry stared at the piece of wood that destroyed Lord Voldemort, the wand that could best any man no matter the circumstance. The Elder Wand looked innocent enough. It had knobs and grooves like any other wand. And yet, what Draco said was true, this wand could not fall into the wrong hands. It had to be destroyed. But how could they destroy the indestructible?

“You think I don't want to destroy it? I just don't know how! It’s the Elder Wand! It can't be bested!”

Harry let his head fall back against the stone wall. The sounds of battle still resonated in the rocks. Hogwarts had just been through a war, they had all been through a war. Harry's hands still shook.

Draco, seated across from Harry in the hallway on the fifth floor, raked a hand through his hair. The man had blood on his collar and an eye that was sure to bruise come morning, but he sat like a royal prince in the centre of his court.

“You just defeated the Dark Lord. Everyone agreed that was impossible, so do something. You're bound to destroy it somehow.”

Harry was tired. He had tried to sleep back in his old dorm room but there was too much to process for sleep to come. Voldemort was gone; Snape had been in love with his mother; Fred was dead, along with Remus and Tonks and Colin and countless others. He had died as well. His parents had accompanied his descent into the forest to face Voldemort, completely sure that his life was over. But he was alive. He was here, and he was alive.

So Harry did what he always did when he couldn't sleep, he wandered the halls until his body was near exhaustion. Somewhere along the way, Malfoy had joined him and had walked silently with him, until they both collapsed beside a wall in the middle of an empty hallway on the fifth floor. It was then that Malfoy brought up the issue of the wand.

“You're the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. Smash it with your foot.”

Harry rolled his eyes under his closed eyelids. “I hate that term. What does it mean? I'm a boy and I'm alive. Last I heard that wasn't that big a deal.”

Draco snorted. “I think the big deal is that any normal person, suffering under your horrid bad luck, would be dead. And yet, here you are, alive and kicking. Or sleeping against a wall, as the case may be.”

Harry shuffled on the hard ground, pulling his legs up and resting his chin on his knees. “Why are you sitting here with me? Didn't your family go home? Don't you want to be with them?”

Malfoy looked away from Harry, staring down the dark hallway in silence. Harry regretted the question as soon as he said it. At first Harry had been annoyed to have his solitude disrupted, but when Malfoy had remained silent, walking beside him like a shadow, Harry had eventually grown resigned to having a quiet companion in the dark.

Harry's thoughts had been so completely overrun with concern over the Elder Wand that when Malfoy began discussing it, Harry had responded, and for the first time in history he and Malfoy were having an actual conversation. His question had just made it seem like he wanted the conversation to end, which couldn't be further from the truth. It was just that if Harry had a family right now he would be with them, leaning on them for support.

“You don't have to answer that if you don't want to.”

Draco's gaze remained lost in the darkness as he continued to stare down the hallway, but he spoke anyway. “It’s not that. I just don't have an answer for you. Mother and Father wanted to stay in the castle. I think they're afraid to go home. I stayed with them for awhile but I couldn't stop thinking about that wand; that stupid wand that the Dark Lord wanted so badly. You have no idea the things he did to get to it.” Draco lifted a hand to his face. “No idea.”

Harry recalled some of the visions that he had seen during the year and thought that perhaps he might.

“Do you know that had the Dark Lord discovered I was the master of the Elder Wand he would have killed me instantly, without hesitation?”

Harry looked across the hallway at Malfoy who had curled himself tightly against the wall. The git was annoying, mean, spiteful, hateful, but a constant in Harry's life. It was hard to imagine him not in it.

“You could also have done good things with it. In the right hands it could do so much good.” Harry held onto the wand, feeling the weight, imagining himself carrying out great deeds.

Draco jumped from the wall and rushed over to Harry's side. “No! Don't you see? I wouldn't have used it for good. Maybe I would have used it to get my family out of the Manor and away from that madman, but I wouldn't have done anything heroic. I wouldn't have used the wand to save orphans or feed the needy. I would have taken it and been selfish and eventually I wouldn't have cared if my choices were good or bad anymore, because there would be no consequences to my actions!”

Draco leaned forward, grabbing a fistful of Harry's shirt. “Don't you see? That's what it was like for me growing up. I had no consequences for my actions, and see how I turned out? Do you see what I did? I worked alongside a killer! I watched as my professor was murdered before my eyes and I did nothing. I stood by as my best friends tortured eleven year olds. I stupidly allowed Crabbe to cast that bloody spell. I need consequences. The world needs consequences. That's why that wand has to be destroyed.”

Harry sat shocked. He had never seen Malfoy so impassioned, or so self-reflective. Malfoy's nose was flaring and his cheeks were flushed. His eyes were wide, like saucers, and had settled into a shade of gray Harry had never seen before. Malfoy stared into Harry face imploringly, as if by his will alone Harry could think of a way to destroy the wand, but instead Harry’s mind was filled with the colour of Draco’s eyes. He lifted his hands to pull Draco’s fists from his shirt, but the moment their hands touched Harry’s hands refused to be removed from Draco’s skin.

The two stayed in that position, silently, until Harry realized what he was doing, closed his eyes, and responded to Draco’s question, “I don't know how.”

Draco slumped back, his hands falling away from Harry’s, his mouth open and slanted, each breath coming in a short pant. “We have to do something.”

Harry lifted the wand with both hands in front of Draco. “We can bury it.”

Draco shook his head fiercely. “Someone would dig it up. Not good enough.”

“We put it in the bank in a high-security vault.”

“Didn't you break into a high-security vault guarded by a Dragon?”

Harry growled. “I don't know what else to say at this point!”

It was the wrong thing to say because Draco stood, yanking Harry up beside him. “How in the world did you ever become a hero? You are worthless! You just give up? After two failed ideas you just give up?”

Malfoy attempted to grab the wand from Harry's hand. The two pushed and pulled, Harry unwilling to give up the wand to Malfoy after his admission that he would use it for his own selfish desires. Draco swore and pushed forward, slamming Harry against the stone wall. The slam overwhelmed Harry with pain, allowing Malfoy to tear the wand away. waved the wand in Harry's face. Then, he lifted his knee and brought the wand down onto it, hard.

The wand snapped in two.

“Oh.”

Malfoy lifted the broken pieces of the wand, showing Harry the clean break. “I didn't think that would work. The only way to break a wand so cleanly is if the owner breaks it.”

Harry's mouth was agape. “I didn't think you could do that at all.”

Malfoy attempted to use his own wand to bring the pieces back together again, but the broken pieces would not rejoin. He tried casting a spell with the broken bits. That failed as well. Harry and Malfoy stared at the broken wand in awe.

“I can’t believe I broke it.”

Harry clapped Draco on the back. “Yes you did. You defeated the Elder Wand. Congratulations.”

Draco began to make short little manic bursts of laughter. “I did, didn't I? I broke the Elder Wand. We don't have to worry. I did it. I saved the day!”

It felt very nice to see Malfoy do something right for a change. Harry couldn't help the smile that bloomed on his face. He stood and watched Malfoy look more joyous than he had ever seen him.

Suddenly, Harry was tired. His bed called out to him and he was eager to answer. He felt as if he could sleep a million years, and was probably going to do so. It would be the first sleep without the threat of Voldemort invading his dreams. He could sleep without fear.

“Malfoy, I'm knackered. I'm going to bed. You should go, too.”

Malfoy nodded, still looking at the bits of wood. “What should we do with the remains of the wand?”

Harry shrugged. “I don't know. You keep them.”

Malfoy clutched the bits close to his chest. “I… I can't believe I broke it.”

Harry smiled again and then walked towards his dorm, leaving Malfoy behind. It had been a strange night, a strange day - a strange year, really. But it was time to sleep, and hopefully not to dream.

Things were vastly different after the war.

During his search for the Horcruxes, Harry dreamt of a world without Voldemort and the constant attacks against his mind. The dream usually placed him back at Hogwarts, returning to the normal minutiae of schoolwork and Quidditch games. And yet now, when Harry imagined himself racing to class and searching for a clean tie underneath his bed, it all felt wrong. But what did that leave for Harry to do? He had never considered the possibility of not wanting to return to Hogwarts.

“Master Harry, a Miss Weasley has sent another letter. Would you like to read it?”

Harry had told Kreacher he could stay at Hogwarts, but the house-elf was had developed an unflinching loyalty towards Harry. The constant mail kept him busy, and Harry feared for the old elf's health, but he seemed to enjoy destroying the pieces of fan mail in every increasingly creative ways.

“I'm sorry, Kreacher. Just put it with the rest of her letters. I'll read them later.”

Harry felt guilty avoiding Ginny, but after a few failed meetings complete with stalled conversations and awkward kisses, they both had realized that their short romance had not survived the traumatic time apart. Admittedly, it had been nice for both of them to focus on something positive, but the reality hadn't lived up to the fantasy.

“Is Master Harry going out today?”

It had been four days since Harry had last left the house. Being a man of idle means meant a thrilling life of half-finished crossword puzzles and meals consisting of cereal straight from the box. Harry looked down at his pyjama bottoms he had worn for the past few days, scratched the stubble on his face, and made a decision.

“Yes, yes, I believe I will go out today.”

The weather was turning chilly as September moved towards its conclusion. Harry welcomed the brisk wind as a cool relief to the end of summer heat. The London streets were empty, with most people either working or attending school; it was only the unemployed and idle that roamed the streets at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday.

There was a bookshop that Hermione had recommended months ago that featured the classics; books that all proper English men and women should know. Having missed a normal education in favor of learning fancy wandwork and potion recipes meant that there were many books on that list that Harry had failed to read. He had some time, and a desire to occupy his mind with non-Wizarding things for a while, so the suggestion had real merit.

He knew the bookshop was near the Ministry, as Hermione had found it during her lunch break from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. But Harry had failed to realize just how close until, while standing near the front of the shop, Draco Malfoy appeared on the other side of the large front window, looking at the display.

Malfoy had only spent a few moments glancing at the books before walking away, none the wiser to Harry standing on the other side. Harry hadn't seen Malfoy since that last night at Hogwarts and seeing him, now, dressed in smart trousers and a light jacket with a dark blue scarf, shook Harry more than it should have. Malfoy looked so grown up, as if the few months since the war had aged him at least five years, but in a good way. Malfoy was an adult; he carried himself like an adult. But what was Harry? With his t-shirt and jeans, unwashed hair and scruffy stubble, Harry was eons away from adulthood.

Harry had a sudden urge to talk to Malfoy; to reassure himself that time hadn't raced forward without Harry noticing. Maybe it had been a trick of the light, or the display window had warped glass.

Harry put down the book he had been browsing and walked quickly out of the shop, the front doorbell ringing loudly as he left. But as Harry stepped outside, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

Harry waited a week before he went back to the bookshop.

This time he purchased a few books before planting himself in front of the display window. He didn’t want to admit he was waiting to see if Malfoy would pass by. It was silly, considering Malfoy probably had only walked past the window by chance the week before, but Harry had never been the best planner. He was going to sit on the sofa near the window, which was quite a comfortable spot, and read his books. And if Malfoy passed again, then Harry would just confirm that it was a trick of the light and Malfoy was really an equally confused and panicked pre-adult, just like the rest of them.

“Potter?”

The book in Harry’s hand fell to the floor with a bang, causing the other patrons in the shop to stop and stare at him. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, Malfoy! What a surprise to see you here.”

Harry knew he had a goofy grin on his face and that his words were completely uncharacteristic, but seeing Malfoy in person was just as bad as seeing him through the window. The man looked as if nothing bothered him; his hair perfectly styled atop his head, the same dark blue scarf arranged artfully around his neck. It was a muggle bookshop and Malfoy looked like a regular muggle bloke, picking up a few books for university or a little light reading between dinner parties. Didn’t they all just live through a war? Didn’t Harry read that Malfoy’s parents had been banished to Europe? Why did Malfoy look so unruffled?

It was then that Harry noticed that Malfoy had just asked him a question. “Um, I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

“I said, how are you?”

“Oh, fine. And you?”

Draco adjusted his scarf, which could have been considered a nervous motion, except Malfoy had managed to place the scarf more artfully than before. “I’m fine.”

Harry tried to think of something else to say, he really did, but without the insults and the weight of war between them, Harry struggled to find a starting point for a conversation. He had no idea why he was trying so hard, but there was some hope, as Draco was still standing next to the sofa, a book in his arms.

“Trees, A Natural History. Interested in trees?”

Draco looked down at the book in his hand as if he had no clue what he had picked up. “Oh, yes, sure.”

Harry scratched his wrist and bit his lip. Merlin, he was bad at small talk.

“Well, I’d better go. Goodbye, Potter.”

“Wait!” Harry shouted, causing the patrons of the store to turn in disapproval at Harry, again.

He was acting like an idiot. He knew that. But he had to speak to Malfoy, something beyond just polite pleasantries. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just like there was no real reason for Harry to be sitting on the sofa waiting for Malfoy’s appearance. It was probably because Harry was bored; his only accomplishment for the week being the discovery of the stale cereal box and replacing it. But something deep in his stomach was making him feel like he couldn’t allow Malfoy to leave the bookshop without a proper conversation.

“What did you do with the pieces?”

Draco advanced rapidly on Harry, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper. “Don’t talk about that here! This is a Muggle place!”

Harry reddened. But the embarrassment did have an unexpected bonus, as Draco was now close enough for Harry to smell his cologne, a subtle woodsy scent that was strangely enticing. Harry reddened more, realizing that he probably smelled like sweat.

But Harry was a Gryffindor and couldn't help but go head-first into danger. “Then let’s talk about it somewhere else.”

Draco’s proximity was doing something strange to Harry, especially when Draco furrowed his eyebrows.

Then to his shame, Harry began to babble. “I passed a nice park on my way here and they had some unique trees. The leaves are starting to turn and there was this one that all the leaves were pure gold! Perhaps with your new book you could identify it for me?”

“Are you asking me out for a date?”

Harry felt his whole body flame. “What? No!” Harry ducked his head. “I just thought we could talk, catch up.”

Draco stared at Harry incredulously. Harry could see his thought process running through his eyes, wondering where Harry's sudden interest came from.

“I’ll accompany you to this park, but only because you have me curious what your muddled brain will come up with next. But, we are only going to talk about the "pieces" and then I am leaving.”

Harry smiled, baffled at his elated excitement over tree watching with Draco Malfoy. Were there pigs in the sky? Was Voldemort chilled by the sudden freeze in hell?

Sitting at home had clearly addled Harry’s brain. He needed to get out more, maybe pick up a hobby, find an occupation. Hopefully Hermione wouldn’t be out and about. All Harry would need would be grief from her, and worse yet, if Ron found out the company he was keeping, Harry would be a dead man.

Harry eagerly followed Draco to the counter as he paid for his book. The shop girl took one look at Harry and turned her nose up, preferring to sweet talk Malfoy. It was quite hilarious to see the poor girl bat her eyelashes only to be snubbed by Malfoy’s aloof demeanor. The girl was attractive, but most likely the Muggle factor was enough to make Malfoy consider her inconsequential.

Malfoy briskly walked out of the shop. Harry followed and began to walk towards the park, nervously looking around the streets to make sure there was no one he knew out, and looking back at Malfoy to make sure he didn’t disappear.

“Potter, your bird-like paranoia is annoying me. If we see anyone you know we’ll just tell them that I spelled you to think you were a dog. Wouldn’t be far fetched considering your penchant for following me like a puppy.”

Harry turned to Draco and barked.

“These are Beech trees, Potter.”

Harry barely glanced at the tall golden trees surrounding them in the park before returning all of his attention to Draco.

“The trees are mostly used for hedging or can be found in deciduous woodlands. Muggles believe that the current changes in the climate are threatening the well-being of the trees. They have started a movement to save them. Muggles seem to be fascinated with saving things. It must be why Granger made her ridiculous attempt to save the house-elves.”

Draco snapped his book shut. “Now that I have filled your brain with information that you will no doubt just chuck out again to make way for whatever boy heroes think of, you asked me about the Elder wand pieces. I assure you they are safe. I spent the rest of the night snapping the wand into several more pieces. I then apparated to various bodies of waters and dropped the individual pieces in each. Let the current deal with them now. One bit should be near Iceland and another on its way to the Americas. Only you and I know what I did with it, and it will remain that way if you know what is good for you. If I didn’t trust in your unending Gryffindor goodness, I would force you to make an Unbreakable Vow, but that would involve a third party and there is no one that I trust enough with this matter.”

Harry should have been listening to what Draco was saying. This was important stuff, stuff he should be concerned about, stuff concerning a very valuable and dangerous magical artifact. Instead Harry had been distracted by Malfoy’s scarf that had loosened, displaying Draco’s pale smooth neck. Harry watched Draco’s neck move with each of his words. It was absolutely fascinating to see the vein at the side of his neck move with each breath, the jaw move with each consonant. How had Harry missed this part of the human body? Harry had the odd urge to reach out and feel Draco’s jaw as he talked. Would if feel like his own jaw? Would there be stubble or just baby smooth skin?

“Potter, you really are nutty as a fruitcake, aren't you?”

Draco’s dig shocked Harry out of his imaginings. “Um, what?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Well this has been pleasant,” his statement positively dripping with sarcasm, “We must do it again sometime.”

With that Draco turned and began to walk away. As he turned, Harry noticed something peculiar with the neck he had just scrutinized. There, behind the ear, was a large dark brown something atop the skin that extended down the back of the neck.

“Draco, what’s on the back of your neck?”

Draco turned, his face pink. He tightened his scarf and quickly walked out of the garden, ignoring Harry’s calls for his return.

Several days later Harry couldn’t get the discolouration from his mind. Had Malfoy always had that? Harry couldn’t remember ever seeing anything like that before. Draco was so pale that a mar on his skin that dark would have been memorable.

Harry had asked Hermione if she remembered if Malfoy had had a dark beauty mark on the back of his neck. She gave him a funny look before returning to her lecture on Harry’s bad hygiene habits.

Harry continued to think about it as he ate his morning cereal, as he weeded the garden, as he walked through the park, as he played a quick pick-up game of Quidditch with Ron and his brothers, as he turned down Kingsley again for Auror Training, as he attempted to convince himself to sleep and as he attempted to convince himself to wake up. This was becoming an obsession, much like sixth year. Except Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was up to something; rather Harry found himself growing concerned. Malfoy seemed embarrassed by the mark. The scarf had not been an artful fashion choice but rather a tool to cover it up. Was it medical? A spell? A potion gone wrong?

So Harry did the only thing he could do. He asked Kreacher for help. If Kreacher could follow Malfoy around in sixth year all over Hogwarts, then he could certainly find him now.

“Kreacher, when you followed Malfoy in sixth year, did you notice any strange dark colouring on the back of his neck?”

“No sir. Master Draco’s neck was quite clear sir.”

“Thought so. Kreacher, would you be able to find Draco right now?”

Kreacher fiddled with the locket around his neck. “I can find Master Draco if Master Harry wishes.”

Harry rubbed his hands together. “Kreacher, would you be able to visit Draco right now, without him knowing, and see if there is a dark thing on his skin, you know, beside the Dark Mark.”

“Master Draco does not wear the Dark Mark.”

Harry was confused. “Of course he does, he was a Death Eater.”

Kreacher stared at Harry, his large eyes wide. “Oh no, Master Draco never completed the requirements. He mentioned it quite often that the mark would not take unless he took a life. I heard Mistress Narcissa and Master Draco speaking about it. He was quite distressed that the Dark Lord would discover his deficiency.” Kreacher paused. “Would you like me to observe Master Draco’s skin now?”

Harry nodded and Kreacher disappeared. After a few moments he reappeared, slightly wet.

“Master Draco is pale white all over except for a trio of freckles right above his left hip, a crisscross of faint scars on his chest, and a large patch of skin from his neck to his buttocks that has become bark.”

Harry had been envisioning Draco Malfoy’s trio of freckles, so it took him a few seconds to process what Kreacher had said. “Did you say bark?”

Kreacher nodded. “Yes, tree bark.”

Harry’s mind raced. “How do you know this? How big is it?”

Kreacher blinked. “Master Draco was in the shower. The bark is covering most of his back, sir.”

Amid Harry’s panic were visions of Draco naked in the shower. It was not helping Harry think clearly. “No, how do you know it’s tree bark?”

“What else would it be? It is the bark of the magical Elder tree on his back. It is a sacred wood that all house-elves worship.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He stepped towards Kreacher, taking a hold of his arm. “Take me to him, Kreacher. Now.”

Harry had assumed Kreacher would apparate Harry to the gates of the Manor, or perhaps the front door. Suddenly arriving in Draco’s bathroom while Draco was standing there, in a towel, brushing his teeth, was not what Harry was expecting. Harry screamed and fell backwards, his back hitting the door. Draco also screamed, clutching his towel, his toothbrush falling to the floor, toothpaste flying from Draco’s mouth.

“Why do you not have anti-apparition wards?”

Draco spit back. “I just moved here! Why are you apparating into my bathroom?”

“Kreacher brought me here!”

Draco quickly looked around the bathroom, but Kreacher had already disappeared. Harry scowled. This certainly was not helping his case.

“Why in the world would your house-elf bring you here?”

Harry paled. How did he explain that he had insisted Kreacher take him because Draco was growing bark on his back?

“Well…”

“Get out.”

Harry attempted to explain himself again. “You see…”

Draco was not willing to listen. “I said get out!”

“Draco, just listen…”

“No! Get out of my bathroom right this second before I break your nose again!”

Harry could still feel the pang of Draco’s foot crushing the bridge of his nose. Harry quickly rushed out of the bathroom, thoroughly embarrassed, but also disappointed that he had been unable to see the bark on Draco’s back for himself. Although, he had noticed Draco’s clear arms. Kreacher had been right. Draco had failed to get the Dark Mark.

Harry thought about apparating home, but he needed to discuss Draco’s back with him. Harry waited outside the bathroom for several minutes before realizing that perhaps Draco did not have a change of clothes inside the bathroom and would prefer Harry to not be around when he stepped out in only a towel.

Harry went to explore the house instead. It was both surprising and unsurprising that Malfoy had decided to move away from the Manor, but his current place seemed much too small for a Malfoy. In fact, it seemed like a small cottage, with only a few bedrooms upstairs. And when Harry wandered downstairs, the rooms looked barely furnished. After poking his head into each room Harry could only ask one question.

“Where are all the house-elves?”

“I don't have any.” Draco surprised Harry, catching him poking his head into Draco's kitchen. He had changed into khaki trousers and a polo shirt, the collar turned up. His hair was wet and his cheeks were pink. “I thought I told you to get out.”

Draco was angry, but made no move to forcibly make Harry leave, so Harry ignored his plea completely. While Harry explored the house he had convinced himself that this conversation was not going to be like the last. Harry was going to take initiative and be forthright. No more mumbling or stuttering, and no staring. There was only one way to start the strange conversation, and that would be with the beginning.

“When we were talking in the park I noticed a strange dark spot on the back of your neck. I apologize for calling it out then, but I could not stop thinking about it. I know you didn't have a spot there in school so I was worried that perhaps it was a curse, or a bad potion.”

Draco folded his arms, his demeanor growing graver with every one of Harry's words. “A blemish on my skin has nothing to do with you, Potter. I have already asked you to leave, and now I must ask you to mind your own business. You are becoming quite an annoying, nosy parker.”

Harry lifted his hands in surrender. “I know I'm horrible, but something inside me wanted to know! So I asked Kreacher to find you and tell me if he found anything. He came back and told me that it went down your back.”

Draco pulled his arms tighter around himself. “And how would he know that?” Draco then blushed hard. “Your house-elf spied on me in the shower? Not only are you a nosy parker, you’re a bloody pervert! I can't believe you sent your house-elf to spy on me in the shower. Did his description of me washing my naughty bits get your rocks off?”

The image was doing terrible things to Harry's resolve, but Harry was on a course and he could not waver. “No! He just reported the facts and he tells me that the thing on your back is bark! Tree bark from an Elder Tree!”

Draco fell silent, his head turned to the side. He refused to say anything, just stood there staring into the corner. Harry waited, and waited, but Draco remained silent.

“I'm sorry Draco, I didn't mean to pry. I am a nosy parker, I admit it.” Draco snorted. At least Harry's statement garnered a response. “But when I heard that it was tree bark I was worried.”

Draco turned, his eyes flashing. “Worried? You were worried about me? You don't even like me let alone know me. I get a strange spot on my neck and suddenly you want to dash in here and save the day?”

“But it’s more than a spot! It’s tree bark! There has to be something really wrong for you to be growing bark down your back. Have you seen anyone? Talked to anyone about it?”

Draco just pointed his finger towards the door. “Out, now, Potter. I don’t have time for this.”

“But…!”

Draco growled.

Harry lifted his hands in surrender, but he was not leaving without some sort of reassurance that Draco was doing something about the bark. A year ago, would Harry have been as stubborn as he was now in regards to Draco’s well being? Perhaps not, but it felt right to be stubborn. Something inside him was telling him this was the right course.

“Before I leave I just have one thing to say. You need to see a healer, and soon. I don’t think what’s happening to you is normal.”

Draco stepped forward, his hands in front of him, pulled together into a fist. “Of course I know it’s not normal, you twit. I’m only going to tell you this once, so listen up. My family healer has already seen my back and he says there is nothing he can do. He has no bloody clue what is going on. This man is quite familiar with curses and poisons, more so than the quacks at St. Mungo’s, and yet even he is dumbfounded. I’ve looked up every bloody book in the Malfoy library, I’ve sent letters, and I’ve even gone to a Muggle doctor. The only thing they all know for certain is that the bark is growing and it’s the bark of an Elder tree. That’s it. End of story. Go home, Potter. This should relieve you of any nagging curiosity.”

Harry stepped closer to Draco and curled a hand around both of his fists. “How long has this been going on?”

Draco visibly sagged. Harry was unsure whether it was because he had resigned himself to telling Harry the full story, or if it was because Draco wanted to clear these burdens from his shoulders. Either way, Harry attempted to show his care through his face and squeezed Draco’s still tight fists.

“I don’t know. I first noticed it around the time of our family’s trial. I thought someone had cursed me, unhappy with my acquittal. But I had been living in Azkaban before then and they have a strict no mirrors policy. My healer thinks I may have been growing bark for a while.”

Harry attempted to uncurl Draco’s hands. Draco reluctantly allowed him. “Do they know if it will stop?”

Draco shook his head. “No, it just keeps growing.”

Harry said his next words very carefully, knowing he was probably stepping over the line. “May I see it?”

Draco stepped back wildly, pulling himself from Harry’s hands. “You are a bloody pervert!”

Harry pleaded. “No! I swear. I just want to see what we are dealing with so I can help you! I promise no perverted thought will cross my mind when I see it.”

Draco snorted, and Harry gulped. He just prayed no perverted thought passed through his brain. Harry was having trouble controlling his perverted thoughts as of late. He hoped Draco was not familiar with Legilimency considering he was still pants at Occlumency.

Draco stared at Harry for a moment, biting his lip. Harry withstood the scrutiny, hoping his real worry showed through. Draco closed his eyes and then, as fast as he could, he ripped off his shirt and turned around, presenting to Harry his back.

“My God.”

Draco’s back was covered in light brown bark. The wood was knobby and marbled, whirling around Draco’s back in a mishmash of flowing patterns. It looked hard and stiff, and yet it moved with Draco’s breathing. Harry reached out, brushing a hand down the wood. It felt like wood, hard and brittle; it smelled like wood, earthy and fresh. It really was tree bark growing on Draco’s back. It was both amazing and terrifying.

Draco moaned. “Potter, stop stroking my back.”

Harry pulled his hands away, his face immediately flushed in embarrassment. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help but touch it.”

Draco pulled his shirt back up, making sure to flip the collar back up. “No worries, you are a brute. I have no doubt you touch whomever you please without their permission.”

“Only if they like it.”

The words had slipped out. Harry flushed, realizing it sounded very, well, flirty.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I thought you promised to withhold the perverted thoughts?”

Harry tried to hold his tongue, but it had other ideas. “I only promised to watch my thoughts, not my hands.”

Draco smirked, and then laughed. Harry laughed with him, albeit nervously.

“Oh Potter, it is such a ridiculous thing to see you attempt to flirt.” Draco placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed, hard. “But now you are going to leave.”

“But I want to help!”

Draco squeezed some more. “No, you want to pry. I’ve let you do that long enough. Go back to saving kittens from trees and leave me alone.”

Draco pushed him towards the door, using more strength than Harry assumed he had. “Wait! Draco! What are you going to do now?”

“Nothing except push you out of my house.”

“But—!”

Draco shoved Harry out of the door. Harry stumbled, but turned once he regained his balance, only to have Draco’s door slam closed in his face. He stood in shock for a few moments before moving away from the door and apparating home. Kreacher was waiting for him in the sitting room, holding a warm cup of tea. Harry sat heavily on his sofa and began to think.

The shop was swarming with people, even though it had been a while since the shop had reopened. Many had believed that Ollivander would never come back after his imprisonment and torture under Voldemort. When the shop had failed to open its doors before the beginning of the new Hogwarts term, it seemed like a clear sign that Ollivander had retired for good. A rival wand shop had established itself only a short distance away, but it had failed to live up to the craftsmanship standards of Ollivander. Nothing felt as good, or right, as an Ollivander wand.

So when the doors were open once again, many witches and wizards had stopped in just to see if Ollivander was truly back, including Harry. It really was good to see the strange man again, puttering around his disorganized and busy shop.

“Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches!”

Harry ducked his head as the other patrons turned to stare and whisper about the Boy Who Lived.

One small child yelled to him. “Mister Potter, are you getting a new wand? What kind? Can I get the same thing? Mum, can you get me the same wand?”

Harry stepped back. This was a bad idea. He should have known better than to walk into a crowded store without a glamour charm. He had been so distracted by Draco’s predicament that he had been making stupid mistakes like this all week.

The crowds murmuring was turning into a frenzy of requests and calls for wands just like Harry’s, Ollivander stood, ignoring his patrons calls to instead stare at Harry, his large eyes magnified underneath his large bottle glasses.

Ollivander tilted his head, scrutinizing Harry from head to toe, mumbling underneath his breath.

“I apologize to everyone, but I have a private meeting with Mister Potter. I am closing the shop now. I hope to see you all tomorrow.”

The patrons all were stunned, but reluctantly shuffled out of the shop. Harry was both grateful for the crowd dissipating and fearful of what Ollivander wanted to discuss.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause such a stir in your shop.”

Ollivander waved Harry’s comment away. “Never mind that. You must come with me, and quickly.”

Ollivander began to walk to the back of his shop without looking back. Harry looked around, placing his hands in his pockets, and followed.

There was hardly room to walk between the shelves of wands. Wand boxes were piled high on each shelf and precariously stacked on the floor. Harry tried to walk cautiously, but his foot or elbow caught on several boxes, sending them spilling onto the floor. And yet Ollivander continued his straight path ahead, leaving no time for Harry to stop and pick them up.

Finally Ollivander reached a dark wooden door. He took out an old key from his vest and unlocked the door, the lock cranking as it turned. The door opened slowly, showing only darkness inside. Ollivander stepped aside and extended his arm for Harry to enter first.

“Where are you taking me?”

Ollivander smirked. It was an odd look on the old man’s face. “To the past.”

Harry stepped through the door cautiously. The room was dark, but as Harry ventured further in, light began to fill it, as did the sounds of birds.

Wait, Harry thought, birds?

The light got bright, so bright that Harry had trouble seeing until a cloud passed over the sun, relieving some of the glare.

“We’re outside!”

Ollivander stood beside Harry, his face in a wide smile. “Yes Harry, welcome to my tree orchard.”

Harry looked out to see acres upon acres of trees, all of different shapes and sizes. The door must have been some sort of Floo or transportation device as there was no possible way that a orchard of this size existed in the middle of London.

Each tree was different, from the very large trees that seemed as big as a small cottage, to the gnarly old trees whose branches slumped to the ground. The ground was soft as they walked; the smell overwhelmingly earthy.

A wind rushed though the orchard, rattling the trees. A few small branches came down, only to be instantly snatched by hands that appeared from the ground.

“What was that?”

Ollivander lifted his glasses to peer at the hands. “Oh, those are my helper hands. They collect the fallen branches and sort them before taking them to my shop. Not every branch that falls can be turned into a wand. It has to be the right kind of wood.”

Harry continued to follow Ollivander, surreptitiously attempting to get a closer look at Ollivander’s “helper hands”.

“How can they tell?”

“They just ask it,”

Harry was pondering exactly how a hand might ask a piece of wood if it was right for a wand when Ollivander stopped in front of a small tree; its wood ashen, the leaves gone.

“This, Mister Potter, is what I brought you here to see. The past, and soon to be your present.”

Harry was very confused. “Excuse me, but I’m not quite sure what a dead tree has to do with me.”

Ollivander stepped towards the tree laying a tender hand on the brittle trunk.

“This tree was discovered by one of three brothers. The magic inside the tree had called out to a young man, to cut it down and harvest it. The wood was fashioned into a great wand that could never be defeated. But once the wood was harvested, the tree withered and died, as did all that was contained inside it. Wand makers have attempted to recreate the wand, but none have succeeded.”

Harry shivered, realizing that he now stood in front of the tree that had created the Elder Wand. It looked small and unimpressive. How had this wood been turned into the greatest wand that ever existed?

“Harry, you should not have done what you did.”

Harry’s heart stopped at Ollivander’s cold tone.

“You are playing with magic you do not understand. This magic is old. Its rules are not our rules.”

Harry heart began to start again, except now beating in an alarmingly fast rate. “I don’t understand what you are talking about.”

Ollivander began to approach Harry, his face stern. “The wand's magic is death itself. Do you think that a mere human could end it? Death is eternal, as is the magic that was in that wand.”

Oh Merlin, he knew about the Elder wand, how he and Draco had broken it. How did he know? How did he find out?

“Do you feel it, Mister Potter? Do you feel the magic call to you now? The wand requires someone to harvest it, to make it live in the world again, and it has chosen you. Are you prepared, Mister Potter, to do so, when the time comes? Are you ready to pluck the life from the new Elder tree and fashion a wand from death itself?”

Harry shook his head. What was Ollivander talking about? What was going on? The sky was beginning to darken, the birds were no longer chirping.

“But I didn’t break it! Draco took it from me! He broke it!”

The sun had completely darkened and the wind stopped. Ollivander stood in front of Harry, somehow growing in height to tower over him.

“The wand requires death, and death it shall have. Bring me to the Malfoy boy, now.”

Harry stumbled back blindly, lost in Ollivander’s words and the swirl of Apparition.

After Apparating to Malfoy’s cottage, Ollivander requested to speak with Draco alone, leaving Harry to pace, his concern over Ollivander’s words growing. The words death and harvest spun around his brain. He needed a pensieve. This was a memory he needed to study extensively. Ollivander sounded just like Dumbledore with his double-speak and vague references to things Harry had never studied nor heard of before. It instantly sent Harry into a panic. Something was terribly wrong and Harry was to be the chosen one to act out something greater than himself, again.

What about Draco? How was he involved in this? When Harry appeared with Ollivander in tow, Draco’s face had grown pale. Harry’s stomach had clenched at the sight. Draco was a harsh and brutal boy on the outside, but there were occasions, in school and when he had spoken about the bark growing on his back, where Harry would see the frightened child underneath.

That child had resurfaced in Draco’s face today. His eyes had instantly sought out Harry, looking to him for help, but Harry had allowed Ollivander to take Draco away. The room they were speaking in had been muffled, but Harry could hear their quiet murmurings. It was enough to tell him that Draco was not being harmed physically.

There was something that nagged at the back of Harry’s brain. Ollivander had mentioned that the magic was calling out to him. Harry felt himself out, truly assessing his own feelings. There were no faint noises, no soft whispers urging him to find a tree or carve wood. Perhaps Ollivander was mistaken?

The only thing that called out to him was Draco. The only whispers Harry heard was the faint sound of his heart beating faster with every image of Draco that fluttered through his mind.

But Draco wasn’t a wand. He was a Wizard, made of flesh and blood, and…

Bark.

Draco was also made of bark.

The bark of the Elder Tree.

Harry fell down onto the ground, his knees hitting the hard wood. According to Ollivander, Harry was being called to harvest the new Elder Wand; to pluck the life from the tree to make a new wand.

And the tree that he would have to harvest, the wood that he would have to take, killing the tree in the process; that tree would be Draco. Draco was going to turn into a tree and Harry was expected to kill him.

Harry closed his eyes as tears overtook him.

He woke up to a dark room, a heavy blanket on top of him and a now cold cup of tea resting beside his head. Harry rubbed out the sleep from his eyes, thoroughly ashamed to have been found asleep in Draco’s sitting room. Harry put on his glasses, letting his eyes adjust from blurry to clear.

And with clarity came the realization that Draco was sitting across from him, legs crossed, his face impassively staring at Harry.

“You are not allowed to feel sorry for yourself when I’m the one turning into a tree.”

Harry bent forward, placing his elbows on his knees and resting his forehead on his palms. “I'm sorry for falling asleep on your floor. Thank you for moving me to the sofa and providing me with a blanket.”

“I thought about killing you in your sleep, but Ollivander was watching. Can't perform any nefarious deeds with him watching.”

“Stage fright?”

There was a pause and then Draco chuckled. “I had no idea you had a sense of humour, Potter. That might come in handy.”

Harry pulled a hand through his hair. “Come in handy for what?”

Draco turned his head towards the window. “When I become a tree and you have to come chop me down.”

Harry quickly stood, his arms rigid, his hands in tight fists. “I will never cut you down! I don't care what that old coot Ollivander says. We'll search everywhere, ask everyone for a solution to your little tree problem.” Draco snorted. “And then, and only then, if you do turn into a tree I will guard it with my life. I swear to you Draco, I will never cut it down.”

Draco shook his head. “Potter, you don't understand magic very well, do you? Magic always finds a way, always. And if magic wants to turn me into a tree and have you cut me down, well then that's what magic will get.”

Harry stood firm. “Magic wanted me dead! I survived the killing curse; I can find a way around this!”

Draco took a deep breath, but continued to look out of the window. “We can't all be the Savior, now can we? There is no way to release me from this fate.”

Harry could feel his eyes burn from frustration. How could Draco say such things? “How can you just give up like this? Do you want to die?”

Draco finally stood, slowly. Harry noticed that it required some effort and that Draco was holding onto the sides of the chair tightly. “Harry, I need you to do something for me.”

Harry rushed forward and attempted to take Draco's arm, in order to help him stand, but Draco brushed him off. “I need you to keep this between us. You are not to speak to your friends about this nor refer to it in a letter. No one is to know about this. If anyone were to gain this knowledge who knows how many psychotic Wizards with a glory complex would come looking for me to make themselves a Death Stick.”

“What about Hermione? I was thinking of asking her for help to do some research…”

Draco interrupted Harry with his sharp tone. “No! I have called someone more qualified to help than your little nosy, bushy-haired friend. I have sent word to him, requesting him to come here directly. I must ask that you leave and not return until he sends you word.”

Harry's stomach clenched. “What do you mean? I want to help! I want to stay and help you! When will he contact me?”

Draco began to walk out of the room, his back towards Harry. “He will contact you when it is time to make a new wand. Goodbye, Potter. I'm keying the wards to keep you out. Don't bother coming back here.”

Harry felt something squeeze his middle and suddenly he was outside Draco's cottage. Harry made several attempts to re-enter the building, but every time he came within a few feet of the walls something would bounce him right back. Well, Harry was nothing if not a determined man; he needed to go home and think. If there was a way to help Draco, Harry was going to find it, even if Draco didn’t particularly want him there.

After several days of throwing every spell and curse Harry could find at the wards, Harry decided that the tried and true method of pure stubbornness and annoyance was the best course of action. Harry found an old horn in Arthur Weasley’s shed and borrowed a pair of cymbals from Luna. He attached the cymbals to the inside of his elbows, clapping them together as he walked around Draco’s cottage, blowing the horn as loud as he could. After several hours of this Harry’s lips were on fire and his arms hurt, but there was some progress. Draco had opened a window to yell at Harry before throwing up a silencing spell.

The next day Harry arrived extremely early, right as the sun began to rise, armed with not only the cymbal and the horn, but also bells on his ankles. He circled the cottage six times before a quite sleepy and ruffled Draco opened up the window and threw the silencing spell at Harry.

On the third day, or rather night, Harry came at two a.m. armed with his horn, his cymbals, the ankle bells, and a giant cowbell around his neck. He marched, blew his horn and clashed his cymbals. And when his lips felt as if they would fall off, Harry began to sing, loudly and poorly, at the top of his lungs.

After his seventh loop around the home the front door banged open, but instead of seeing an annoyed Draco, a large dark figure appeared in the doorway; his long black hair falling in front his face, his trousers black with matching black boots.

“Mister Potter, I see you still think you are God’s gift to man. Stop screaming or I’ll be forced to cut out your tongue.”

Harry dropped the horn, his jaw falling open. A man he had thought was dead and buried was standing before him, yelling at him as if he were an errant child.

“Snape! Is that you?”

Snape pulled his hair away from his face, revealing the large hooked nose and beady black eyes. In a long dry drawl, Snape answered. “I’m the Easter Bunny.”

Harry didn’t care who it was, because Draco’s front door was now open. This was his chance! Harry made a run for it, ducking his head down and pushing forward with his shoulder. The bells made it a bit difficult, as did the cymbals still attached to his elbows, but the act had surprised Snape, who chose to duck out of the way rather than draw his wand. Harry barged in, falling on the floor in a heap of noise and groans.

But through the pain, Harry knew he had to plead his case. So while still on the floor, Harry screamed. “Don’t turn the wards back on! Please! Or I’ll keep doing this, every day; morning, noon and night. You can’t stop me! I’ll find other ways!”

Snape, who had stormed back into the cottage, now towered over Harry. He bent down and pulled Harry up by his ear.

“Shut up, you whelp. I will not tolerate your pranks.”

Snape threw Harry onto the sofa while he remained standing, his eyes drilling into Harry’s face. Harry was still rubbish at Occluding his mind, so his only defense was to avoid eye contact.

“It’s not a prank. I’m just here to help Draco.”

Snape leaned forward. “And you consider clanging and yelling like a madman in the middle of the night helpful?”

Harry ducked his head. “Not particularly.”

Snape whacked Harry in the back of the head. “Next time write a letter. Go home, let us sleep, and come to visit Draco in the morning.”

Harry couldn’t hide his happy expression. “Really? How is he doing? Is he okay?”

Snape raised his eyebrow as if he was surprised by Harry’s concern. Why else did he think Harry was banging away outside the cottage? “You can see for yourself tomorrow.”

Harry tripped over himself on his way out of the cottage. As he left he saw a shadow appear behind the cottage, in the garden. It looked like someone was lying in the grass, but at this hour? Harry shook his head. The lack of sleep was obviously affecting him more than he thought.

Harry collapsed into bed as soon as he got home, falling into a deep sleep. His dreams were muddled and disturbing; filled with Draco's neck, his voice, and the smell of wood. Harry woke up in a sweat, unable to piece together anything sensible from the images from his dreams, but unable to forget how they made him feel; how his chest tightened and every molecule in his body buzzed in sensation.

He arrived back at Draco's cottage in the afternoon, groggy and distracted. One of his trouser legs was caught inside his sock and his shirt was inside out.

“Potter.” Snape just raised his eyebrow at Harry as he entered the cottage, as if to say mess with Draco and I'll remove your balls. Harry nodded as he walked by, keeping his head down.

Draco was in the sitting room, in the sofa chair closest to the window. The chair was pressed up against it, the sunlight beaming onto Draco's body.

Draco was sitting very still, his face slightly titled towards the window. His arms were laid flat on the armrests of the chair, the fingers spread wide. His legs were covered with a thick wool blanket, much too hot for the fall day. He frowned at Harry as he entered, and then returned to looking out of the window.

Harry nervously sat down on the sofa across from the armchair. He had worked so hard to get back into Draco's cottage, but now that he was there, Harry was unsure what to say.

“Hi, Draco. How are you?”

Draco scowled. “Just dandy. And you?”

Harry bit his lip. Why was this so awkward?

“I'm all right. Had some weird dreams, but other than that pretty well rested, I guess.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You banged outside my door for three days straight, just to tell me that you're having weird dreams?”

Harry rushed to explain himself. “No! I just wanted to be able to see you again. The thought of never being able to, it just drove me to distraction. I had to do something.”

Draco sighed heavily, turning towards the window again and tapping his fingers in a slow beat on the armrest.

“Harry, it's just the magic drumming through you. If you could escape from the Imperius curse, I'm sure you could escape from this. Once you turn me into a wand I'm sure you'll look back on your little puppy dog act as one of the more idiotic things you have done in your life. But since you insist on carrying out this nonsense, I have a proposal for you.”

“Anything.”

“My condition is getting worse.”

Draco faced Harry, his eyes boring into him as he slowly removed the blanket from his legs. Harry could see no change in Draco. His trousers were loose and gray, well fitting. Harry continued to look down, trying to comprehend why Draco would want him to see his legs. It wasn't until Harry reached Draco's feet that the real reason why his legs were covered became apparent. Draco was without shoes or socks, but they were unnecessary. Draco's feet were unrecognizable. They were encased in bark, tiny, root-like growths sticking out every which-way. They looked heavy, and ill shaped.

Harry attempted to hide his shock, knowing that gawking would see him sent swiftly home, but the image was dreadfully frightening. The bark on Draco's back was alien, but workable. It was just an extra layer on the skin. Draco could still function, could still be himself in everyday life. He just had to wear a shirt and suddenly it was as if it didn't exist.

But the thick heavy tree stumps for feet were not something that could be hidden away, tucked underneath a polo shirt and a scarf.

“Oh Merlin, it’s real.”

Draco threw the blanket back over his legs. “Figured that out have you, Potter? "This happened two nights ago and it's just gotten worse. By Severus's calculations my legs will turn into wood completely by the end of this week, then the rest of my body will go. And then my mind." He turned his gaze out the window again. "That part we hope to hold onto for as long as possible.”

Harry pulled on his hair. “This is happening so much faster than I thought it would!”

“May I remind you again that this is not happening to you! Focus on what I am telling you and less on pitying me. Don't think I will hesitate to have Severus throw you out.”

Harry gripped the seat cushion, just in case Severus did actually make an attempt.

“What can I do? Please, give me something to do.”

Draco lips became pinched, as if what he was about to say was completely distasteful. “In order for my mind to stay human, I need constant stimulation. My body wants to turn into a tree, fully. Severus has caught me several times in the garden, awake but completely still, incapable of responding to his calls. So Severus experimented; he attempted to keep my mind alert throughout the whole day, by reading to me, quizzing me, and engaging me in conversation. That day I was fully cognizant, with no lapse in consciousness. But, and Severus has agreed of course, there are more useful things for him to be doing than talking at me. That is where you come in. You want to help? Chat away at me inanely and make sure I respond.”

So Draco wanted him to talk? He could talk. It was easy, just open mouth and insert words.

“Um…”

Or not.

“The weather's nice.”

Draco shook his head. “If you have difficulty coming up with anything intelligent to say, you can read to me. Severus was reading me Yeats.”

Draco pulled a book from the side table and handed it to Harry. Someone had left a bookmark in the middle of the book, so Harry started there.

From then on Harry would get up, get dressed, and head over to Draco's cottage. Snape would greet him gruffly and threaten him in different and descriptive ways until Harry nodded that he understood and made his way to Draco.

For the first few days Draco sat in the same chair, his face towards the window, and just listened to Harry while he read to Draco. But after several mispronunciations and what Draco called ‘poor interpretive reading’, Draco began to discuss the poems, rather than just listen.

“It's holy, not holly. One refers to the spirit and the other is a berry.”

Harry adjusted his glasses and sure enough the word only had one ‘l’. “Oh, sorry.”

“Holly doesn't even make sense in that sentence. Do you not understand what Yeats is trying to say here?”

Harry re-read the first few lines to himself aloud again, but it still all sounded like garbled gibberish to him. Why didn't poets just say things straight out? Why did everything have to mean something else?

“Here, give it to me, and just listen.”

Harry placed the book in Draco's hands. It was getting harder for Draco to reach out as the bark had extended around his shoulders.

“Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.”

Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the smooth sound of Draco's voice.

“The changing colours of its fruit
Has dowered the stars with metry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.”

Harry sighed. “It sounds much more beautiful coming from you.”

Draco chuckled. “Well, that’s because I actually have an understanding of what I am saying.”

It was the first time that Draco had smiled since Harry had arrived. It was so beautiful; the lips thin and pink, his chin dimpling slightly. Harry hoped he could continue to make Draco smile.

“Well then, tell me what it means, Sir Poetry Master.”

Draco's smile turned into a smirk, but it was teasing rather than condescending. “It's about spiritual love, the type of love that buries itself deep within you, hiding and growing without your knowledge. I believe Yeats was referring to the love that God has for His Muggles, but I think it could also mean a parent's love, born before the child is fully aware of what love is. Or a lover, who has fallen in love without recognition.”

Harry stared down at the page. Draco saw all that? Harry saw a tree and some fruit.

“It was my mother's favorite poem. I memorized it when I was a child for one of her birthdays.”

Harry smiled, imagining a small Draco reciting this very same poem. “Did it help to understand the poem, memorizing it?”

Draco closed the book, smiling at his hands. “I think so. Some things need to be absorbed before they can be understood.”

Soon the window was not enough and Draco was moved to a chair out in the garden. His legs were heavy; his limbs weighed down with bark that now spread down to his elbows. And yet still he yelled out orders as if he were the king of the castle.

Draco also began to sleep more, taking long naps in the afternoon, laid out on the green grass. During those naps Harry would sit quietly next to Draco exploring the bark that was visible, attempting to fully understand what was coming. Sometimes Harry's hand would slip, and he would find himself petting Draco's hair, running his fingers through the thin strands. Or gently caressing the unblemished skin; Draco's wrists or his smooth, pink cheeks.

“I don't think Draco would appreciate you assaulting him in his sleep.”

Snape sneered at him, two blankets draped over his arms; one for Draco, and surprisingly, one for him.

“It is getting colder. Only an idiot would be outside in this weather without proper attire.”

Harry shrugged, but accepted the blanket. It was a bit chilly.

“Any luck?”

The more useful occupation of Snape's time was researching any and all cures for Draco's dilemma. There were constantly letters and books arriving on Draco's doorstep that were instantly swept up by Snape to be scoured for information. Snape would occasionally bring out a potion or wave his wand in strange patterns, but Draco’s condition never changed. There were no promising leads, but Harry still held out hope.

“Had I found a solution I would have been applying that, rather than gathering blankets for dunderheads.”

Harry got up and watched Snape spread the blanket over Draco. Draco's naps averaged about an hour, so Harry thought it might be a good time to have a snack.

“Potter, may I have a word.”

Snape never sought out Harry's company nor purposely spoke to him. The fact that he was doing both made all of Harry's warning bells go off.

“Draco has been keeping odd hours. I believe it is due to the transformation. He's been sleeping more during the day and waking in the night. Last night I woke to find Draco standing outside in the garden staring at the moon. He was unresponsive for an hour.

“I think he needs to remain outdoors, and to have constant supervision. Unfortunately, I have already scheduled a visit with a Chinese herbologist who studies tree spirits. I will be gone for a few days, so I need to you stay here with Draco. With his condition I think it best that Draco remain outside as much as possible. As for you, I have purchased a tent.”

Harry groaned internally; anything but a tent.

Snape pulled out a small square, flicked his wand, and suddenly a tent began to build on the lawn. Harry prayed that the tent was similar to other Wizarding tents and that the space inside was much larger than its outside appearance. Harry took a peek inside to find that it wasn't.

“Good luck, Potter.” Snape then stepped forward, his lanky hair swinging in front of his face. “And if I come back to find that you have abandoned Draco, I will find you and chop you into potion ingredients.”

Snape then turned and marched back into the house. The man no longer wore robes, preferring to wear dark trousers and dark button down shirts, but somehow the air still swished around him dramatically.

As Snape disappeared into the house, Harry took the time to look around. Draco had picked a cottage that was truly isolated, near Castle Neroche in the Blackdown Hills. It was an ancient wood; isolated and thick. There was nothing near Draco’s small cottage for miles except trees and fields, and an old broken dry-stone wall in the distance that hadn't been mended in years. The cottage was built on higher ground, like a beacon for all the creatures in the wild to come to for shelter and warmth.

Had Draco already known what was coming when he picked this place? Did the magic that was flowing beneath his veins pull him towards this cottage and this lawn? Were the roots on his feet yearning for this old soil?

“Why was Snape yelling at you? Oh wait, don't answer that. It’s you. He always yells at you.”

Draco's words were slurred by his slow stretches on the ground. He was like a slow moving cat, arms reaching out towards the warm sun.

“Why is there a tent here?”

Harry fell back into the grass, staying close enough to Draco to smell his woodsy scent.

“Looks like we'll be sleeping underneath the stars from now on.”

Harry looked up. The clouds above were moving fast, their shapes changing and reforming countless times. It had been a long time since Harry had simply sat outside and enjoyed the nature around him. The trees off in the distance were starting to turn, their leaves changing from green to red, brown and gold. Soon it would be too cold to be outside all day. What would they do then?

“Are you cold, Draco? Do you need me to go in and find you a thicker jumper?”

Draco scoffed. “My bark keeps me warm enough. No need to turn into my mother, Potter.”

Harry nodded, tightening the blanket around him. “What's going to happen when it gets colder? I don't think I want to sit outside when it begins to snow.”

Draco hummed and began to pluck at the grass around him.

At night Harry slept in the tent. The cot inside was uncomfortable and the blankets were scratchy, but it was only an annoyance for the first five minutes. The sounds of nature outside the tent soothed him to sleep, and once Harry fell asleep it was always deep and dreamless.

Draco preferred to stay outside. He had pulled his pillow and blankets out of the tent, circling the ground until he found the perfect spot. Harry had created a series of alert wards around the two of them, some of which included one to indicate if anyone was approaching, and one to alert Harry if Draco awoke. Even after Snape returned, Harry continued to monitor Draco, feeling that it was his responsibility.

At least once a night Draco would wake up. Harry's wand would buzz and brighten and Harry would quickly dress and make his way outside. Draco would be sitting up in his blankets looking around as if he didn't recognize his surroundings, and then he would look at Harry, his eyes unseeing, his face blank. This would continue until Harry reached him, touching him softly on the shoulder. Then, and only then, would Draco snap out of his stupor, shaking his head.

That moment was always the worst for Harry. His heart stopped cold upon seeing Draco's blank face. It was as if ten elephants had decided to sit on his heart, the heavy weight slowly squishing the life out. There was a ringing in his ears and his hands shook.

But the moment Draco returned, the weight on Harry's heart suddenly withdrew and all the blood came rushing back.

Perhaps it was the flood of blood in his heart, or the moonlight, but Harry loved to watch the light return into Draco's eyes. And Draco, as he returned to full awareness, would stare back into Harry's green eyes, allowing Harry to see the life grow vibrantly into Draco's gray ones. The life would rise, like steam, and Harry watched every precious and beautiful moment. Draco was beautiful. How had Harry failed to notice?

The late night awakenings also led to the most revealing and intimate conversations between Harry and Draco. Draco's usual snarky and cold visage disappeared at night, or maybe Harry just had trouble seeing in the dark. But nonetheless, it was Draco that began the conversations with probing questions for Harry, and Harry couldn't help but answer them. A few nights in, Draco knew more about Harry than most of his friends, and after a week Draco knew more than even Hermione and Ron.

“Your face, Potter, was so bloated! You looked like a fat pufferfish!”

Harry flipped Draco the bird, playfully, while Draco stuck his tongue out. “Seriously, Potter, who came up with that idea for a disguise? A fat Potter is still a Potter.”

Harry shrugged. “It was the best we could do at the time. It worked for your father. He had no idea who I was. Thanks for, you know, not calling me out then.”

Draco gave Harry a dismissive wave, but his cheeks did redden. “Whatever.”

Harry scooted closer. “No really, thank you. It was really dangerous for you to lie like that! Why did you do that for us? I thought you would have been overjoyed to hand us over.”

Draco raised his shoulders in resignation. “I have no idea why I did what I did. Actually I thought…no never mind. I’ve forgotten already! The image of your pufferfish face has erased everything else!”

Harry didn’t believe that for a second. “No, I really want to know!”

He leaned into Draco's side and pouted. He brought his lip out and dropped his eyes, batting his eyelashes.

“Stop the act Potter! You look even more ridiculous!”

Harry leaned in. “Come on, I’ve heard from many a source that a single pout from me could soften even the meanest ogre.”

Draco began to laugh. “Ho! Are you calling me an ogre then?”

Harry stared at Draco seriously. “Ogre? Hmm.”

Draco hit him in the arm.

“Hey! Just for that you have to tell me now!”

Draco grew serious, his smile fading into a small frown. “For a fleeting, and rather foolish moment, I thought you were there to rescue us. But we Malfoys, we don’t need rescuing, right? We just invited Voldemort into our home to threaten and torture us, right? But that’s why I didn’t say anything. I thought you had a plan and somehow I could help you. Silly thought, really.”

Harry began to respond, but Draco interrupted him.

“Were you afraid?”

Harry scrunched his forehead. “Afraid at the Manor?”

Draco shook his head. “No. In the forest, when you came after Voldemort in the Final Battle.”

The previous night Harry had confessed to his almost death at the Final Battle, of seeing Dumbledore at the station and having to walk, knowingly, into death.

“Of course I was. I was terrified.”

Harry could see the confusion cover Draco’s face. Was what Harry said that strange?

“What about angry? He set you up. Dumbledore knew you might die. He sent you there to die, and you just… just went?”

Harry sat forward. “What other choice did I have? It was either him or me. Either I went and confronted Voldemort, or we all died. It was a simple decision. I was the only one that could have done that.”

Draco pulled on his hair. “But, weren't you angry? You trusted Dumbledore! You said so a few days ago that you considered him to be a father figure. But what kind of father sets things in motion so that his son has to knowingly walk into death?”

Harry hid his face behind his hand. That time was not something he wanted to think about. Why was Draco bringing it up now? Harry's heart began to beat wildly and it was hard to catch a breath.

“I mean I get why you went after Voldemort. That's how you're built, Harry. Always thinking of others before yourself. But then, your parents, they show up and tell you to continue! They tell you to keep going, just walk into death as if you were going to a Sunday picnic! Doesn't that make you angry?”

Harry roared. “Oh course I was angry! But not for what you said! I didn't care about my life at that point. Who am I? I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. Facing Voldemort is the only thing I was raised to do! There was no other reason for my existence, so when my time came I went and fulfilled my destiny, but they didn't hold up their end of the bargain! I was supposed to die, supposed to follow my parents and finally be with them. All my family was on the other side, every single one of them. Of course they told me to walk into death. They wanted me to join them! That's where I belong! Not here, on the earth, with absolutely nothing in front of me except endless days of being alone.”

Harry was crying, hands covering his face, tears began falling from between fingers that failed to hold his emotions back. His parents' smiling faces flashed through his mind. For that brief instant, back in the woods, Harry had foolishly thought that he was going to a place where maybe he would get a chance to finally get to know them. He had wanted to know if the tiny cleft in his chin was from his father or his mother, and which parent had passed along his short temper. What music had his mother liked and how would his father's hand feel if Harry could shake it.

But that had been ripped away from him when he awoke on the cold, muddy earth, the sounds of battle filling his ears.

There was a tiny touch. It was a bit wet, but very light, on the side of his hand. Had Harry imagined it? It had felt suspiciously like a tiny kiss.

Harry pulled his hand slowly down from his face, trying to wipe away the tear stains from his cheeks. Draco was very close, his face full of concern.

Harry tried to laugh it off, refusing to look Draco in the eye. It was so embarrassing to get so emotional.

But then Draco shuffled slowly closer. It was already a marvel that Draco had managed to move himself as far as he had. The bark had grown aggressive, growing over Draco's joints. Only Draco's hands, neck and face were uncovered. Draco could still sit, but it was just a matter of time until the bark would keep him from even that.

Draco placed his hand delicately on top of Harry's where it rested on the ground. It felt foreign, but tender. Harry looped his pinky finger around Draco's.

“I'm apologizing in advance.”

Harry was too busy wiping the snot that had begun to run down his nose to catch what Draco had said.

“What?”

Draco pulled on Harry's hand tightly until Harry's arm was flush against Draco's.

“I'm sorry that I have to leave you, too.”

The elephants returned and smashed every last bit of Harry's heart.

Draco rested his head on Harry's shoulder and fell asleep eventually, but Harry stayed awake, watching the sun rise over the fields.

Then came the day when Draco could no longer talk. The bark had crept up his neck and covered parts of his mouth.

Draco no longer needed to eat real food. Tethered to his spot, Draco now received all the nutrients he needed through roots that had dug into the earth from his feet.

He also could no longer sit, or sleep. Draco stood beside the tent, his arms extended out from his sides, the bark covering his arm and hands entirely while small shoots had begun to sprout from his arm. Clothes were no longer necessary as his entire body looked nothing like a human. He was a tree with a head.

Snape was growing desperate. He was never at the cottage, always off in remote locations trying to find anything to help, or at least slow the process down. But nothing worked, and nothing was keeping the magic from consuming Draco.

Draco was surprising calm about the matter. His eyes betrayed no fear or concern. To Harry, they looked as if they were smiling.

Harry would sit beside Draco, leaned his body against the trunk, and just talk. Harry imagined Draco's responses, imagined his cutting tones and snotty digs, but it wasn't the same. Draco was there, but Harry already missed him.

At night Harry took Pepper-Up potions to stay awake, preferring to continue his discussions until he could barely remain upright. He would stand, wrapping his arms around the bark and keeping his face close to Draco's, whispering his fears for the future, and how glad he was to have gotten to know Draco, how much he admired the changes he had made, and his admiration for Draco's bravery. Because it was bravery that kept Draco's eyes so happy. He had never once run from his fate. He had stood in the field and raised his arms and accepted it.

I told you I need consequences.

Harry spun around, looking for where the sound came from. It sounded like Draco, but his mouth was now fully covered. How could he still hear him?

Don't tell me you forgot that I can perform Legilimancy. I distinctly remember an entire night spent discussing my unique training with Bellatrix.

Harry rushed towards Draco, his hands exploring Draco's bark face. How was this possible?

“I don't know how to talk back to you! I can't do it!”

Draco chuckled in Harry's head.

I can still hear you, you dolt. You can speak to me just fine.

“But your ears are covered up. I thought perhaps you couldn't hear me anymore.”

There was a pause before Draco spoke again.

I honestly have no idea how I'm able to hear you, really. But at this point whether or not I can hear you makes no difference. I need you to listen, Potter, can you do that?

“Anything, I'll do anything for you.”

Harry watched Draco's eyes soften. His eyes were so beautiful, gray and soft. They looked like the soft pebble he had found at the park. He had taken it home and hid it under his pillow, rubbing it at night, enjoying the smooth surface.

You know I am currently reading your thoughts, Harry. You never told me about that pebble before.

Harry blushed. What else could Draco read? Oh Merlin, Harry had a mountain full of naughty thoughts about Draco and now was not the time to be revealing such things.

I agree, mostly because I'm a tree and therefore have no way of responding to such… wow, can people really do that?

Harry changed his thoughts to Hagrid, or pincushions, or anything other than Draco bent over the nearest table while Harry loving licked every part of his beautiful arse.

You also failed to tell me you were an arse pirate, Harry. While I'm sure my arse would have enjoyed the attention you so clearly want to give it, I have important things to discuss.

“I can't promise anything, but once it starts I sort of have trouble stopping it. And why aren't you yelling at me for being a pervert?”

Because, I love you.

What? The word flooded Harry's senses, repeating over and over again. Love, love, love, all in Draco's voice.

I love you, Harry. I think it’s part of your charm, making people love you without you realizing it. Your goofy hair, your silly smile, I craved them. I wanted to see them every day until one day I woke and realized that I loved you, completely.

I'm sorry that I didn't have the courage to tell you sooner, but your visualizations have certainly made me feel a little better about my confession.

But you have to promise me something, Harry. We know how dangerous this wand can be out there in the world. You have to make a wand out of me right away. Don't let anyone else do it. Make a wand out of me and make me yours.

“No! I can't do it!”

You must, Harry. I'm not sure what that magic will do to you if you ignore it. Please.

Harry pulled his arms around Draco's trunk tightly.

“We're going to find a cure for this Draco! We have to! We'll have you back in no time and we'll do all those stupid things that I can't help thinking about. You have to because I love you. I can't lose another person. Please, don't leave me too.”

If I could hold you right now, I would. Harry, I'm sorry, but I can feel the tree taking over. It's not going to stop. There was never a cure out there. I accepted that a long time ago.

“But…”

Harry was pulling at Draco's bark, pulling everything as close as possible.

I love you, Harry. I'm glad this happened this way. It’s my turn to walk into that forest and face my fate.

Harry was having a hard time breathing. The world around him was spinning out of control. It felt as if the sky was on the ground and the ground was in the sky. His stomach was churning and his throat was closing up.

It's Samhain. It is time. Goodbye, Harry.

“What?! No!”

The bark swiftly began to grow over Draco's eyes. Harry was pushed away from the tree as branches shot out from all angles. The trunk rose from the ground until it rose above Harry's head. The branches doubled, tripled, until there were branches everywhere, twisting and turning.

Harry's eyes blurred. All he could see was brown, ashen wood.

He searched every angle, every nook and cranny, trying to find anything that was remotely human. But there was nothing.

Racing into the cottage, he barged into Snape's study. Without a word Harry pulled on Snape's arm and dragged him out into the field.

The weather was very cold. Tiny flakes of snow had begun to swirl in the air. But Harry paid it no mind. He just dragged Snape to the tree and then began to shout. Began to demand for Snape to attempt to reach Draco, use his Legilimency to find his mind inside. To tell Draco to come back, to stay.

When Snape turned back towards the cottage Harry began to scream at nothing and everything at the same time until his voice gave out completely.

Then he ran, as far as he could, through the fields, and into the forest. Time lost all meaning.

Harry decided to stay at the cottage, as did Snape. They fancied themselves protectors of the Draco Tree, as they liked to call it.

Snape tried to convince him to make the wand, as Draco had wished, but Harry couldn't do it. Even though everything in his body told him to go out there and chop down the tree, his heart always made him stop.

He would, eventually. Harry knew that was his fate, but not yet. He couldn't do it yet.

The months passed in quiet seclusion. Harry pulled away from all of his friends, preferring to read quietly and watch over his tree.

It had been hard to watch the snow cover the tree, its branches dipping low under the weight of the snow. Harry would bring out blankets only to have Snape ridicule him for foolishness. It was foolish, but what if Draco was cold. It looked cold out there to Harry.

But the winter was short, and soon the weather turned warm again. There were a few rainstorms. Harry, unable to sleep, worried that a flash of lightening would hit Draco. And then the sun came out, as did Draco's leaves.

Draco was a rather attractive-looking tree, very full and vibrant. Harry bought a watercolour set and painted several versions of it; tree in the morning, tree in the afternoon, tree at night.

He often came out and spent a few hours at the base of the trunk, just speaking to Draco about life. Harry could see Snape in the window, disapproval heavy in the line of his shoulders. But what did Snape know.

This morning was special. Harry had brought with him ribbons to decorate Draco for Beltane. Harry had been invited to several bonfires that night, but he was going to spend this night with Draco. He fashioned red and white ribbons along the branches, placing wishes of love and happiness on each one.

It was early. The sun was barely peeking out from the horizon. Snape was an early riser too, and was inside making the morning tea.

Harry placed a hand on the heart of Draco's tree.

“Happy Beltane, Draco. It’s our first one together! Did you know that May is the month of the Hawthorn tree? Wasn't that what your wand was made of? Mine was made of Holly. Did you know that Muggles used to use Holly to protect them from witches? Ha! Maybe that’s why my wand was made of that; I had to protect everyone from bad witches and wizards.”

Harry stepped back to see his work. Draco looked well decorated, the red and white ribbons turning in the wind.

“I've been reading a lot about trees. Want to know more about you, you know. When you turned into a tree? You know, Samhain? That was the month of the Elder. I guess that’s why you and Snape thought that was when you would turn.”

Harry kissed the last ribbon and wrapped it around Draco's trunk. He turned and walked back to the cottage, eager for a warm cup of tea.

Snape was sitting at the small table reading the paper and sipping on his cup. Harry joined him, accepting the poured cup and adding a little honey to his.

The two sat silently, enjoying the peaceful morning.

Though Snape was still standoffish and cutting, he was growing on Harry. He had seen the man's memories, of his love for his mother and his unending devotion to Dumbledore. If anyone would understand what Harry was going through, it was this man. Although they never spoke about it, mostly they just continued with their lives, burying themselves in their routines.

Harry took up cooking, mastering elaborate dishes that were always more food than the two scrawny men could even consider eating. But Snape ate them without a word.

But there was one thing Snape pressed Harry about constantly.

“Harry, you cannot put it off any longer. You must make a wand. I'm not sure how long we can keep this a secret.”

Harry understood the validity of Snape's concern, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. It just didn't feel right.

“What would you do Snape? Would you cut Draco down? Make a Death Stick out of him?”

Snape didn't even blink. “Of course. It is what is necessary. Don't think for a second that love is greater than magic. Magic will win every time.”

“But Dumbledore always said…”

“Dumbledore liked to romanticize magic, but he knew as well as anyone that magic giveth and it taketh away. He brought down his own lover, Grindelwald, for the greater good. It is now your turn.”

Harry looked deep into his teacup. Could he really do it? Cut down Draco and whittle him down into a stick he didn't even want.

Snape returned to his paper, lifting it high. Snape knew better than to continue to argue with Harry. He always said his piece and then returned to his life. He knew it had to be Harry's decision, although he never hesitated to remind him.

The tea had begun to get cold. As Harry reached out to pour more hot water into the cup there was movement outside the window. Harry looked out only to be met with an empty field.

Where was Draco? Where was his tree?

Harry stood up quickly, his knees bumping into the table, making the cups clink on their saucers. Snape brought down his paper and looked at Harry disapprovingly, but Harry ignored it. He turned, ready to race outside.

There he stood.

His skin was pale.

There was a green leaf stuck in his hair.

A red ribbon was wrapped around his arm.

Harry ran straight to him, grabbed his face, and took what he had been dreaming about since that morning, so many months ago, when he saw Draco in the bookshop. His lips devoured Draco's, taking in every thing Draco had to give. Their tongues met and lightening danced across his skin to his very toes.

Harry's hands could not get enough. They traced every part of Draco, feeling every inch to make sure this was real. He was real.

He was real, and soft, and human. Draco was human!

The rest of the cottage, the world, did not exist. Perhaps Harry had sipped poisoned tea, because certainly he'd finally met his end and this was heaven. He pulled Draco close and Apparated them out of the dining room into his bedroom.

The two ripped at each other's clothes, their lips never leaving each other. Harry just could not get enough of Draco's lips. They were even sweeter than he had imagined, like summer cherries. And his skin was so soft. His hands slid over every inch of Draco's skin, free of the rough bark, free of the tree. He licked a trail down Draco's chest and took one of his pink nipples into his mouth, saving each noise and moan to memory.

And it was even better when Harry eventually took Draco's cock into his mouth. Draco’s blond curls tickled against his nose and his scent and taste were heavenly.

It didn't matter that Harry had never done any of this before, or that his technique left much to be desired, but he had fantasized and wished and dreamt about this for so long that all the mistakes were overridden by the overwhelming feeling of completeness.

Draco smartly took the lead as they lay in the bed. He gently and patiently prepared Harry, expressing his love with each swipe and press. Harry cried out when Draco touched something inside, making his toes curl.

And then Draco was inside him, his hard cock filling Harry to the brim. Harry was so full of Draco, so full of his love and his body. Harry pulled Draco down for a kiss, wrapping his legs around Draco's back, pulling him in deeper. It hurt, and it was over very quickly, but it had been the best experience in Harry's life.

The two continued to kiss afterwards. Harry was afraid to let go, afraid to realize that this had only been a dream, a hallucination, but as long as he kept kissing Draco and touching him, then he couldn't disappear again.

After hours of exploration and whispered promises, the two had fallen asleep, Draco on Harry's chest, Harry's arm wrapped around him tight.

A few hours of sleep and they woke to made love again, this time Harry entering Draco, trying to do everything that Draco had done. Draco just looked up at Harry, his face full of love and trust. Again, Harry was sure this was Heaven. Snape must have poisoned him. He bent down and kissed Draco's throat, caressing away any memories of bark or wood. This throat was meant for kissing, this body for Harry, Draco's heart made to beat.

They had spent all day, and all night together. Harry and Draco now just lied in bed, holding onto each other, their fingers tangling.

“Magic brought me back for a reason, you know.”

Harry kissed Draco's knuckles. “I don't care. You’re back and you’re mine. Who cares why?”

Draco pulled in tighter, his face turning down. “I can't stay.”

Harry sat up. “What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

Draco pulled away, wrapping the sheet around him. “I have to go back, as soon as the sun rises. They only gave me Beltane.”

Harry scooted closer to Draco. “What do you mean, just today? They can't do that! Not now that I finally have you!”

Draco held up a hand. “Harry, you never made me into a wand. You have to! Magic knew you would refuse until we met like this. Please, you have to make me into a wand.”

Draco pulled Harry's face towards him. “I don't want to see you suffer, Harry. Make me into a wand and then move on. I'm in a good place, Harry. I promise.”

“But I can't!”

Draco slammed a hand down on the bed. “Magic will find other ways of punishing you! This was pleasurable, yes, but they will find ways of hurting you next. I don't want to see that. Please, there is no way to avoid this. If I could figure out a way, I would spare you. I promise you I would.”

Harry pulled Draco to his chest. He buried his face into Draco's silky hair, breathing in his scent.

“Merlin, I love you.”

Draco kissed the closest thing to him, which was Harry's elbow. “I love you, too.”

Harry bit his lips and ran through all the things he had learnt when Draco was gone, all the books he had read and all the research. Thousands of tree poems and myths, spells, and potions flew through his head. There was nothing that could help.

Draco was a tree and would remain a tree. It was now just a matter of time before Harry fulfilled this newest, cruelest destiny,. Magic was pulling until it got what it wanted.

Unless…

“Draco, can you get dressed? We're going to see Snape for a minute.”

Draco nodded, padding out of the bed. Harry enjoyed the view for a moment before getting dressed himself. It didn't really matter what he wore, but he was sure Snape would prefer him not be nude when they spoke.

Harry and Draco went downstairs, finding Snape in the sitting room, reading a book.

“Snape, I want to make an unbreakable vow.”

Snape and Draco both spoke at once. “What?!” “You can't!”

“I can and I will. Snape I need you to be our bonder. Can you do that?”

Snape began to protest, but he must have seen the determination in Harry's eyes, because he eventually relented and stood, his wand out.

Harry went to the fireplace and lifted a box that contained Draco's hawthorn wand. He handed it to Draco and then held out his own for the vow.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

Harry stepped forward and kissed Draco lightly on the lips. “Trust me, I think this can work.”

Snape stepped forward. “Good to see you, Draco. We have missed you greatly.”

Draco bent his head. “Thank you, sir.”

“All right Potter, Draco, please join hands. Harry, I am placing my wand on your hands, please state your name and then your vow.”

Harry took a big breath. He looked over at Draco who was clearly shaken. This was for him. This was going to be extremely selfish, but it was time for him to do something selfish. This was love, he was in love. Harry deserved a little selfishness.

“I, Harry James Potter, vow to never cut down Draco Malfoy and make a wand from his Elder wood.”

Draco gasped. Snape's hands shook, but the spell wrapped around Harry and Draco's hands in a gold band.

“I, Harry James Potter, vow to never let anything harm Draco Malfoy.”

Another band of gold wrapped around the joined hands. There was a force attempting to pull them apart, but Harry held on tight.

“I, Harry James Potter, vow to never separate from Draco Malfoy. Where he goes, I go, even in death.”

“What? No!”

But the words had already been spoken and a band raced around their hands. The force that had been trying to pull their hands apart increased until Harry had no choice but to let go. Snape, Draco and Harry all ended up on the floor. Magic wasn't happy with what had just happened, but it had worked.

Draco hurriedly crawled towards Harry, pulling on his shirt. “What did you do? You stupid boy, do you know what you have just done?”

Harry smiled and gave Draco a big sloppy kiss. “I know!”

The sky outside was growing lighter. Harry raced outside, pulling Draco with him. “I can be with you, Draco! Magic can't turn me into a tree because then I won't be with you. So you have stay human!”

Draco looked concerned but he held onto Harry's hand tightly. “I'm not so sure that’s going to work. Harry you might die if you can't fulfill the vow!”

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, pressing as close as possible. “I love you, Draco. If I die, then I finally get what I always wanted. I want my family, Draco. I'm tired of being alone.”

Draco kissed Harry hard.

The two continued to kiss while the sun rose, its light surrounding them. The wind began to pick up, whipping their hair into their faces.

There was a strange sensation, a grounding feeling. The earth felt like it was sinking. But Harry just held on, wrapping his arms tightly around Draco, holding his face in his hands.

And then there was nothing.

~

Snape had stayed inside the cottage. He knew what was going to happen as soon as Harry had made the vow. The magic that had been pumping within Harry now was pumping through him. But it was confused. It knew it had to make a wand, wanted to make a wand, but there was something keeping it from doing so.

Snape walked outside, the bright sunlight blinding him for a moment. He walked toward the place where Draco had stood before.

But now, instead of a tall stately Elder tree, its branches out and full of leaves, there now stood a very strange sight.

It was one trunk; that was certain. It looked like a marbled mix of Elder wood and something else. Then the trunk split into two, but the two parts were wrapped around each other, like an embrace. The branches were curled inward. There was no part of the Elder wood that was not mixed with the other wood. The other tree was tougher, and the leaves were dark green and sharp. Snape took a step closer, touching the bark of the other wood. A leaf came out and struck his hand, making him bleed.

“Ah, yes. You are a Holly tree, aren’t you?”

Snape walked around the joined tree, the magic within him churning wildly.

“You damned fool. How did you get to be so lucky?”

Snape patted the wood and walked away. He would remain in the cottage and protect the trees, although there was no way that anyone could make a wand now.

Snape pulled up the book he was reading. It was Draco's favorite poetry book. There was a passage bookmarked. Snape had heard Potter and Draco discussing it.

“Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there”

“I should have realized....”

Snape put the book down, the page still open. The title of the poem stood out tall, its letters lovingly traced over with a pencil.