The medication had made Harry have vivid dreams, that felt more truthful than reality. The three weeks he spent in the mental hospital was filled with dreams of heroic behaviors, dying, and odd romances. The doctors had warned Harry of the side effects, but each morning Harry woke up only to realize that he'd wasted emotions on a useless dream. The day he got home—when Remus took him to live with them for a few weeks—he had dreamed of Draco. Just Draco. No Ralph. The idea of it made Harry's stomach churn and forced him to consider the possibility that he was getting over Ralph. But how? That would be like him moving on from his parents. How can you move on when you have no closure. No ending. At least if they'd broken up, then Harry would be able to gather himself and trudge onward. But, when someone dies, there was no end. He never said goodbye to his parents. He never bid a farewell to Ralph.

That begged the question, if Harry had died would the people he left behind feel the same? Would they feel the lack of closure? He knows Remus and Sirius are practically shells of their former selves, but would losing Harry have pushed them over the edge? Initially, Remus was angry with Harry. But, you can't stay mad at a kid who just wants to join his parents. Harry considered all of this, then shook the ideas away. Maybe if he suppressed them, they'd disappear.

When Harry awoke from the dream, he felt almost disappointed at his surrounding. It was better than the hospital, but not ideal. Idealistically he'd be where him and his parents used to live, where the walls were decorated in posters that Harry felt expressed who he was. The walls he opened his eyes to see were barren. For a moment, Harry recounted the dream of Draco. The smell of bacon wafted from below, but Harry didn't have the willpower to get up from the bed. The door rang, and curiosity was the only reason that Harry even made the effort to get up. He drowsily walked to the door, and upon opening it, heard a familiar voice. Oh shit.

Practically jumping down the stairs, he reached the bottom and bolted towards the door, where a not so happy Remus was conversing with a tall platinum blonde. The boy met Harry's eyes and smiled a little. The boy cradled a tray of cookies and a card. Harry approached cautiously, and took the gifts from the boy's arms. "I came to welcome you back." Draco was clearly uncomfortable as he spoke, fidgeting slightly.

"Come in." Harry insisted, earning a warranted glare from Remus. Draco looked hesitant, so Harry nodded his head towards inside which made Draco follow Harry farther in. Remus kept a close eye as the boy carefully maneuvered towards the kitchen. "You can eat breakfast with us. And cookies, apparently." Harry said, placing the cookies on a table within the kitchen.

"Well, it's almost ready, so take a seat." Remus cautiously allowed for the continuation of this. His voice wavered as he spoke.

Harry took a seat across from Draco, and soon a delirious Sirius fell into the seat next to Harry. To Draco he seemed like a crazed drunk, but Harry acted as if the behavior was normal. "How's it hanging?" Harry asked the weak-looking man.

"Better now that Prongs is back."

"What?" Draco asked, throwing a puzzled look at Harry.

"That's my dad, Sirius. It's Harry."

"That's good too." The man laughed at his mistake, then looked towards Remus who was bringing over a plate of pancakes and bacon. Once placed, he took the seat beside Draco.

Draco reaches for a pancake, helping himself, and Harry grabbed five pieces of bacon. "So, Draco, got any questions?" Harry asked, knowing that questions was all people seemed to have for him lately.

"No. Not about you, at least." Draco said, looking confusedly in Sirius' direction.

"I've got questions." Remus interjected. "Is your father still a part of that cult?" Draco choked on his pancakes, desperately reaching for the glass of milk he'd poured. After downing a sip and taking his choking, he took notice that Harry was giggling horrendously.

"Technically, yes."

"Yeah, Draco's got a pretty tattoo. Wanna see?" Harry reaches over the table and pulled up Draco's sleeve to reveal his darkest demon. Draco looked in a different direction, attempting to avoid the look of disapproval and disgust. "I mean, I know it's related to a group that's pretty evil, but it's pretty cool looking."

"It's appalling." Draco retorted, pulling down his sleeve.

"Well, at least we can agree on one thing." Remus smiled coyly and raised his glass of milk to his lips.

"Blimey, you're both gay. Talk about Ryan Gosling." Harry made a joking attempt at finding more common ground.

"Not my type." Remus and Draco answered accidentally in unison, looked at each other in embarrassment and then in opposite directions.

Sirius began to laugh, signaling he would have some input—which Harry was aware wouldn't end well as if recently. "Well, I mean Harry and I are catches. Ryan Gosling couldn't compare to our gay glory."

"Is everyone here gay?" Draco asked, before realizing what Sirius was insinuating. Harry shrugged, then a lightbulb lit up in both of their noggins. "Oh, I'm not dating Harry!"

"We know. Harry is straight." Remus gave an angered look to Sirius, which quickly ceased considering you can't stay mad at a guy who's only half present.

"Well, I mean I'm straight but, like, I'd do Draco. Like, if he had a sister—"

"Please stop." Remus begged. But Harry persisted.

"I'd rock that bitch's world." Harry lifted his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and took a bite into his third piece of bacon. Draco couldn't decipher if he was being truthful or just trying to piss off his uncle. Sirius laughed, no one knew if it was because of Harry or because of some distant outrageous thought he'd had. "Well, Draco and I are going to go talk about our feelings, and do other teenage boy stuff." Harry said, then jumped from his chair and bolted for the stairs.

Once Harry reaches the top, Draco had just left the kitchen but heard low words. "This is why James was the one who had children. He wouldn't have messed that up so bad."

Draco wandered back into the kitchen, placing a hand on Remus' shoulder. "You're doing your best. Harry's got to figure out some things on his own, but you're doing all you can." Remus needed those words. Sirius couldn't supply him with the assurance he'd needed. Remus nodded in appreciation, and Draco smiled slightly.

***

"It's perfect that you're here." Harry said closing the door to his bedroom.

"You know, your uncle is just trying to do his best—"

"See, I've been having this dream—"

"He loves you and he just doesn't want to have to lose another person—"

"It's where I'm kissing this guy, who isn't Ralph—"

"Can you shut up about Ralph!" Draco raised his voice, Harry turned and saw him looking distraught. "I get it. You loved him, but he's dead! Your uncles are still alive! You're still alive!"

Harry felt a surge of anger. How could someone say that he was dead so easily? "The dead are still living." Harry defended.

"No! No they're not! They're six feet under! It's done for them!" Draco was so exasperated, he hadn't realized he'd leaned up against a wall. Harry took this as an opportunity.

Harry grabbed Draco by his shirt, and pushed him harder into the wall, he wanted to curb stomp him, break his jaw, anything. His anger built up in a way that he didn't know how to express, so his instincts got the better of him. He leaned in closer—Draco feared he might bite his tongue off—and Draco closed his eyes in await for some sort of impact. The one he'd expected was not received. Instead. A warm sensation was felt on his lips, which seemed to spread within him. He kept his eyes closed and remained still, afraid that the moment would end if he even fidgeted. His arms remained raised in the air, but Harry was too lost in his element to notice. When Harry pulled away, Draco's lips felt cold and lonely, causing Draco to attempt to lean back in. Harry took a few steps back, and began to contemplate. After a solid minute of pure, untouched silence, Harry seemed to come to a conclusion. "It feels the same." Harry said, confidently but quietly.

"As Ralph?" Draco asked, his voice sounding pained and sluggish.

Harry shook his head lightly. "No, as you in my dreams." Harry looked desperately into Draco's eyes, and Draco couldn't quite tell what he was desperate for. "I think I like you." Harry's words sounded questionable, but his voice was unwavering.

"No!" Draco protested. "You can't! We're not allowed to." Draco sighed heavily, and admittedly he wished that he could manipulate the world, so it could be more accepting. "I'm a Slytherin. A Death Eater."

"So?"

"So, one of us tried to kill you! Don't you understand that?" Draco couldn't believe that Harry was so dense, that he'd be willing to die for a useless crush. Maybe it was that, or that Harry didn't care if he were the victim of a homicide.

"It wasn't you." Harry argued back. "What is even the point of Death Eaters?"

"Mostly drug schemes, but some of them are practically hitmen."

Harry paused. He'd had an idea, so outrageous and not thought through that it would be moronic to bring it up. So, naturally, he had to state his opinion, "I think I should finish what my parents started. I need to kill him." Draco gave him a deafening silence, and Harry's eyes narrowed in determination. "We need to kill him."