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Chapter Text

The first time it happened, Draco wasn't exactly sure of what had happened.

He just woke up one morning in third year, and a single black flower petal was by his side. 

There was nothing gruesome about it. Nothing ominous about it.

It was just... there.

Looking back, the petal was rather beautiful. His mind immediately synced it to symbolism that he's read about in books: death, hatred, and tragedy. So he was confused why a single petal would end up on his bed. And then he thought that it came from a bat orchid, but later came to the conclusion that it was a rose petal. Which only served to confuse him even more. He knew that roses were rare even in the areas where they should have grown splendidly. Pure black roses were even rarer. They could only be found in the remote areas of Tibet, and even then it'd be difficult to actually find one

Who would take apart such a rare flower to put it on his pillow?

He left the petal on his nightstand, promising that he'd investigate its appearance later. 

Sadly, Draco didn't end up learning anything new about it.

He first went to the library, but there were scarcely any books about the traveling of black roses. He even looked up how difficult it would be to levitate a petal to his room, but it seemed pretty unlikely that anyone in Hogwarts (except for the professors) to accomplish. And when he asked around, everybody was surprised that he thought someone else was able to enter his room. After all, he was always brilliant at casting protection charms and creating difficult locking charms for his compartments. So he let the subject go, deciding that the wizard or witch who had levitated it to his room was incredibly skilled.

He sealed the pretty thing up and placed it inside an empty file as a reminder of the skill that it took for it to get there.

Everything was fine for a while afterwards. He went to classes, fought with Potter, ate meals with his friends, etc. But then, a month later, another petal appeared by his bed.

This time, he knew immediately what kind of flower it came from: Chrysanthemum.

Then the next month there was a White Trumpet petal.

And the next was a Daffodil one.

There was a Lily petal the next.

Though they originally drove him mad, Draco eventually got used to their recurring appearances. He sealed the new petals in plastic casings to place inside his desk, pushing the uneasy feeling out from his chest. Many months went by, and many flower petals appeared out of nowhere.

But then, something suddenly changed. 

In the middle of supper, while Draco was reaching for the jar of orange juice, he felt the immense urge to cough. He excused himself quickly, hiding behind the doors to the Great Hall in order to relieve himself. But, it didn't end with just one or two coughs. It turned into a fit, one that didn't stop until two petals made their way out of his throat.

He was temporarily relieved.

Because that uneasy feeling returned. The pair of Amaranthus petals haunted him until his mind finally pieced all of the signs together. 

The combination of all of those symbols was the same as an omen that he was doomed to die of a hopeless, unrequited love.

That thought frightened him into researching in the library for longer periods of time. He didn't want to die by such a pathetic thing. Draco began skipping meals... shrugging off his friends... skipping classes to learn more about the omen. He even walked into the Restricted Section without a professor's written approval, which librarian Irma Pince overlooked once she realized he was just worried about some harmless flowers.

Though, Draco himself wasn't convinced they were harmless. So he devoted all of his time into research.

It wasn't until fourth year, when Pansy sobbed in his arms about this disease she read a story about, that Draco learned exactly what he had.

The "Hanahaki" disease.

It was known to be a muggle Japanese disease where one begins coughing up flower petals due to unrequited feelings. The flowers festered inside of the internal organs, usually in the lungs. It made it fairly difficult for the diseased person to breathe. Flowers growing bigger over time, the only known ways to get rid of these flowers was to negotiate with the person one was in love with or to die after an incredibly long time of suffering. It was ironic. That is, how a nasty disease like this could appear to be so aesthetically pleasing.

It's also supposed to be fictional, but here he was.

When he figured that out, Draco demanded that she gave him every piece of literature that she had on the fictional disease, confirming for himself that yes, he had this fictional disease that he was doomed to die alone of.

After all, it was only natural he did so. Draco Malfoy had never had feelings for anyone before.

Sure, he loved his parents and he cherished his friends, but none of them seemed like the romantic love that these writers had described in their literature. Bloody hell, even the marriage his mother and father had didn't seem like the romantic love they described.

He didn't even have a set example for him, except for the ones that Pansy reluctantly gave him.

And that was somehow reassuring.

Just to know his ultimate fate, that is. Whatever he thought dying was going to be like, he realized that this was a more pleasing way to die. He suddenly didn't mind it, though he was sometimes frightened by how dark his own thoughts were. 

By the end of that year, Draco made up his mind to live the best of his life until he passes on.

He just didn't expect it to start getting worse.

Chapter Text

"Draco, darling?" Pansy called, unsurprised when he didn't respond.

She waved off the protective charms, which Draco had taught her how to, and stepped inside. As per usual, Pansy took a critical hit upon noticing that yet again Draco's room was flawlessly clean. Unlike Blaise's room, there weren't any spare clothes lying around, his bed was made neatly, and all the books Draco had— or was borrowing from either her or the library— was placed neatly into the bookshelf. All the windows were nicely polished, as to be expected of their perfectionist friend, and even his clothes were firmly ironed in the wardrobe. There were a few stacks of scrolls, distinguishable only by the differences in the ribbon that was wrapped around them.

Those were probably separated by subject. And alphabetized by title.

And as a lady, Pansy was ashamed to say that his room was cleaner than hers.

"Bloody hell, Draco. Couldn't let me gain a single piece of blackmail, huh?" she asked nobody (at least, that was present) in particular.

But, in reality, she wasn't searching for blackmail. She was searching for the reason why he's been acting so strange lately. For the past few weeks, he appeared to be more relaxed that she's ever seen him. Draco hasn't been tormenting Potter and, even worse, he hasn't been plotting to do so. It was like he'd suddenly accepted his fate. 'What fate?' was the question she wanted to find the answer of.

Stepping closer to the desk, she opened one of the drawers in hopes of finding some information in there. 

"Merlin, Draco. I think you have OCD," she muttered to herself.

She rummaged through the very neat desk, opening every cabinet that there was. She nearly gave up, planning to trick him into telling her what was going on, when her eyes landed on a sealed file that appeared to be misplaced. It was the only one that she hadn't touched yet.

Pansy analyzed the opening first, noting how it appeared to be visibly worn down.

Then, flipping the tab open, Pansy read the first words of it: "Hanahaki".

Holy shit, she thought to herself. Does Draco like the collection I gave him that much? He should've just said so. I wouldn't have minded if he wanted to talk about it.

And then she took out the contents.

"What the—"

Stopping herself, she took a moment to truly analyze the sealed flowers. Each were labeled with dates, the one at the very back dating back to a random day in third year. 

It took her a while to realize what they were (hint, hint: Draco labeled the type of each flower and the omens each of them brought upon him on the back of the sealed pack). Eyes widening, she quickly pieced things together. And then, when her mind's racing thought finally ended up at a single conclusion, she placed all the things back to where they were.

And then she sat down on the elegant Malfoy crest carpet, awaiting Draco's return.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long.

The door flew open at his touch, his eyes narrowing as the scoured the room before stopping on Pansy. "What are you doing here?"

While Pansy wanted to coo and play with his slightly-curly-after-showers hair, she knew she had to remain firm. "I was worried about you, Draco," she answered truthfully. "So I decided to pay a visit."

"Mhmm. Right," drawled Draco. He twirled his wand around, drying his towel immediately. Then he folded it, placing it on top of his dirty, yet neatly folded, clothes. "And you were the only one who came?"

"Well, Blaise and Theo were with you," Pansy replied, shrugging as she did so

"Alright then. What were you worried about?" he asked. He sat down on the carpet, sharp eyes watching her every movement. If Pansy wasn't sure that she was one of his most precious friends, she would've felt like a tiny snake inside of a king cobra's den. Maybe that's why she understood the reason why he didn't tell her even without him confirming it.

"You've been acting fairly strange lately, darling," she soothed gently. "I suppose I'm just not used to it." When Draco stayed quiet, she continued, "Draco, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Of course."

"And you know that there's absolutely nothing and nobody in this world who can make me leave you, right?"

Sighing, Draco leaned his head against the post of his bed. Pansy watched as he participated in a mental battle with himself. "...why am I getting the feeling that you know something already, Pans?"

"Well, I have a hunch, but I know you dislike it whenever I assume things about you. So perhaps, I'm wrong," she reasoned. She knew that she made the right move because Draco shut his eyes tightly. "Would you please tell me?"

"Alright. Fine. The truth is... I'm sick," he explained lamely. Pansy raised an eyebrow. Is that the best he can do? "It's sort of difficult to explain, but sometimes it gets really hard for me to breath. And for quite a while, I've known how my case ends."

Eyes softening, Pansy shuffled closer. She put his head on her shoulder, letting him relax into her touch before beginning to speak. "You know, if you'd just told me from the beginning, I could've helped. What stage are you on?"

"I don't know what—" Draco's voice suddenly cut off. He shot up and turned to her, a scowl already forming. "Wait a minute. How do you know there are stages?"

"It's the Hanahaki disease. Of course, there are stages."

"I never even mentioned the name of it."

"Isn't it obvious? You always leave when you're about to have a fit then come back smelling like flowers. The garden is always too far away for you to come back that quickly. Plus, you've been really interested in all my books about it," Pansy deadpanned. Despite her calm outwards appearance, she was truly amazed with how quickly her subconscious backed her up. Honestly, it was remarkable that she didn't figure it out sooner. "Besides, it smelled like flowers the moment I stepped in. You were never the one for perfume or use floral decorations."

"Was I really that awful at hiding it?" Draco asked, groaning as he did so. "Merlin."

"No worries, darling," she cooed softly. "C'mon, Draco. Tell me everything. Let's figure out something together."

"Not that I would mind, Pans, but I already figured it out."

"Oh." Pansy smiled. "That's wonderful. When are you going to confess your feelings?"

Draco blinked. "Confess? Oh no, Pans. I'm not going to do anything like that. I choose death."

He grinned, a smile like his automatically sent shivers down Pansy's spine. It was incredible how dramatic (and hilarious) her friend could be when it's his life on the line. In his situation, the easiest thing to do would be to negotiate with the person he's in love with. Or fall out of it. Dying isn't the right thing to do.

"Draco," she chastised. "You can't just carry this with you to the grave."

"Merlin, Pansy. I'm not an ogre," he snapped. After a few thoughtful moments, he continued, "I'd like to be cremated. My ashes shall be scattered into the a large body of water so my so-called feelings can reside at the bottom of the sea."

"Draco, no!" Pansy cried out. "Don't be so dramatic!"

"And Pansy, I'd like it for you to be the one distributing my ashes," Draco decided.

"Draco!"

"Perhaps, Theo can put my bodiless coffin into the ground. That way, he can let me down one more time," he finished, wiping a nonexistent tear from his eyes. 

At that moment, the door swung open to reveal the bloke— fresh from the shower. Behind him was Blaise nonchalantly kicking off his shoes the second he stepped inside. As always, the duo had impeccable timing. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Draco's planning his funeral!" Pansy cried out indignantly before Draco could stop her. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she launched herself at Theo. Draco didn't have time to react since Pansy was full on bawling by the time Theo had steadied them both on the ground. "He wants Theo to lower his coffin so you would let him down one last time."

Blaise laughed so hard he started wheezing.

"That was one time!" Theo argued weakly. 

"Say that to my thoroughly ruined pile of shirts!" Draco exclaimed, opening a drawer underneath his bed. Inside, there was a large pile of clothes which were, as expected, folded neatly. "And Blaise, you can tell the most embarrassing story about me while Pansy distributes my ashes into the ocean!"

Blaise snapped and did his iconic finger guns. "Nice—"

"Then what was the point of the coffin?" Theo wailed. Draco huffed.

"I already said the reason, didn't I? Try not to spill any potions on it," he sneered.

Blaise started laughing harder. "Mate, I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but I love you," he managed to say in-between bouts of laughter. 

"You've mentioned," Draco replied, a cheeky grin also gracing his features. When his eyes caught Pansy's tearful ones, his grin faded into a warmer smile. "I'm joking, Pans. I won't die any time soon."

Huffing, she agreed. "You better not. I'll kill you."

"Now wait a minute—" Blaise attempted to point out how you can't kill people twice, Pansy, but was quickly cut off by the sounds of Theo sputtering out a response about how expensive it would be to get both a coffin and cremation ceremony. Draco argued that his family can afford it whilst Pansy backed him up with the approximate amount of galleons it would take. Blowing out a puff of air, Blaise decided to let the subject go and quickly joined in on the argument. 

Later, Draco claimed victory, saying that it was his death they were discussing anyways.

Chapter Text

Stepping into the Common Room, Theo stared at his friends in shock. Draco and Pansy were huddled up on one side of couch, muttering amongst themselves. Though he knew that they were always going to be the closest among their entire friend group, he couldn't help but feel jealous. Pushing down this uneasy feeling, he sneaked closer to them in an effort to hear what they might be talking about.

"—seven," Draco was saying. He tightly held on to the cuffs of his robes and frowned; his bad mood was visible. "But, at least I got more daffodils than lilies."

"Merlin, stop sounding like that. You still have a lot of time."

"I just don't get why they're so slow. It's taking forever."

"Well, the flowers do grow in your lungs."

"Wow, Pans. I truly didn't know that," Draco sarcastically replied.

"Do you want to die quickly?"

"That is always the preferable method."

Pansy sighs. "Salazar Slytherin, you're awfully dramatic."

Theo paused, hand on the pillar.

For a split second, he was actually more concerned than curious. Judging by their conversation, did that mean Draco is still coughing up petals? Theo thought it had only been a temporary thing back in third year. That is, until he witnessed Draco coughing some more up last week. He'd been really sneaky about it too, which was why Theo felt that he was being rather odd. Within the same hour, he questioned Professor Snape, who was exhausted enough by his relentless questions to give him tips on how to brew a Healing Potion that he could alter the side effects of using magic.

Since last week, he thought that perhaps this was just random.

But, if Draco was counting the petals like this happens all the time...

Then what, exactly, is going on?

Did he get hexed?

Is he cursed?

What kind of spell is it?

How often does this happen to him? 

Biting his lip, Theo tried to stop himself from freaking out without knowing more.

"At least no blood's coming out," reasoned Draco.

"If that happens..." Pansy shuddered. Theo tensed up when she looked around. He let out a inaudible sigh when she leaned in towards Draco. "That's a good thing, I suppose. You'll tell me when you start again, right?"

"Of course. Stop making it sound like I'm about to have a menstruation cycle," he deadpanned.

At that, Theo let out a laugh. His friends instantly whipped their heads to him, eyes wide comically.

Pansy demanded, "How long have you been there?"

"Only for a few moments," he reassured. Draco's eyes narrowed. "Besides, I already knew. Kind of."

"What?" Draco asked. "How?"

"I saw you in third year," Theo replied with a shrug. He moved to sit across of them, looking at his hands guiltily. Now that he was caught listening, it was time to come clean to the two of them. "I thought it was temporary though. I'm sorry."

"So you mean to tell me that you saw Draco cough up blood back then and you didn't think to tell me?" Pansy asked.

Betrayal seemed to seep into the tone of her voice.

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Theo snapped. His thin fingers gripped the opposite arm, biting his lip in shame. "It wasn't like I could've said it out loud. I would've sounded mentally insane. 'Oh hey guys. By the way, I just saw Draco Malfoy cough up this really pretty flower'! Pansy, you know that would've sounded like utter bullcrap!"

"So you didn't tell anyone?"

Draco asked with such a timid voice that Theo couldn't help but feel pity for him. It must've been tough, keeping all of this to himself before he and Pansy found out. As the only Malfoy heir, he must've been terrified of how vulnerable this makes him. If word got out about his disease— especially if he's bleeding— the Malfoy name would be in ruined. And the careful mask Draco has spent all his life creating would be in shambles in a blink of an eye.

But, even without Theo realizing this, he didn't utter a word of it to any students or persons who would've taken advantage of this situation.

"No," he sighed, calming himself down now that he was done ranting. "I mean, I talked to Professor Snape about it, but he didn't really seem to believe me."

"Well, he doesn't believe a lot of things," Pansy added, now calmer as well.

Draco hummed quietly. He appeared to be put at ease now that Theo had said that. But then he dropped his head suddenly. Theo realized he had no idea how his friend was feeling at all.

"I suppose I should fill in the details for Theo then."

"It's only natural," Theo urged. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious.

Nodding once, Draco explained, "I have this thing called Hanahaki. It's a disease where flowers grow in my lungs, which is why I had to cough them up. It started happening in third year, but I haven't found any information on it at all."

"Well, except that he's supposedly madly in love with some girl," Pansy drawled as if it was just another every day thing.

Theo's jaw dropped. He's what now?

"No, I'm not," he snapped. "Pansy's just assuming."

Assuming stuff was always Pansy's point of expertise. But she was bloody good at it. If she dared to assume something like this, then it's only natural that she would be right.

But... a girl? Last time Theo checked, and yes he's gotten this out of Draco Malfoy himself, Draco was more inclined towards blokes than girls.

"No, I'm not! It's true! Every time I mention it, Draco avoids it!" she insisted. "He doesn't want to confess to her."

"Maybe it's a him," Theo replied, more calmly than he himself felt. Maybe Pansy didn't know, but she was openly gaping. Draco sent him a look of betrayal. But, he was too concerned to care about their reactions. Knowing Draco was suffering from a disease was beginning to physically take a toll on him. "And why would he confess anyways? I mean, he has the disease. Wouldn't it just be passed on to them?"

If they looked at this rationally, maybe this Hanahaki thing would be spread to the other person. After all, that's how diseases are spread.

"No. Legend has it that the only safe way to get rid of the flowers is if the person he loves confesses their love back. The flowers would then disappear. But, Draco's being such a wuss—"

"I'm no wuss—"

"—that he's considering death over it," Pansy continued without sparing a glance at her best friend.

"Why doesn't he just get surgery?" Theo asked, clearly more realistic than the other two. "It'd get rid of the flowers, right?"

"Well..." Pansy's voice trailed off.

But Draco's eyes suddenly lit up. "I could do that? Why didn't you say so earlier?!"

Because, like most surgeries, it could do more harm than good.

"Well, it's a risky procedure for one," Theo replied. "I inherited some medical books that I read a while back. In summary, lung surgery is one of the most complex ones, especially since it has to do with your ability to breathe and provide oxygen for your heart."

"And—" Pansy interrupted— "there's no guarantee that your emotions would stay intact. Remember that Hanahaki is formed due to your extreme romantic feelings for that person. If you get rid of it, who knows if you'll ever be able to fall in love again. I, for one, am against this."

"It's not like I'll miss experiencing love," Draco replied. Theo noted how bored he sounded. As if he didn't really care about the risks of the surgery. As if there was nothing more painful than this. Which, they both knew, wasn't true. "Just wondering: how expensive is lung surgery?"

"Draco," Pansy chastised. "I won't let you. We don't know enough."

"Theo does, though!" he chirped happily.

Cringing, he spoke up. "Not really. My father wouldn't let me go into St. Mungo's if I had what you did. He wouldn't let me check to see how expensive the surgery is." 

"That sucks," Pansy deadpanned, not sounding sorry at all. Though, she was more pleased than remorseful. "See? You can't get it done. Fess up."

"I'd sooner die."

That was when it clicked for Theo. "So that's what you guys were talking about back then!"

"Obviously."

"And you've known this whole time then? Since you spoke of it so easily?"

Draco snorted, folding his arms. "You wish. She snuck into my dorm."

"How scandalous," Pansy drawled, looking at her fingernails with false nonchalance.

"Pansy!" Theo scolded on Draco's behalf. But he laughed anyways. "Besides, you're a shitty liar, Draco. Of course she'd want to look around a bit."

"Shut up. I'm an amazing liar."

"Keep telling yourself that, mate."

"I knew I should've kept you out of this."

"Yes, well, now you're stuck with my insane ass. It isn't exactly easy to get rid of me, and you know it."

"I would be lying if I said otherwise," Draco grumbled. 

After joking around for a little bit, Theo sobered up.

"Do you know who it is? Who you like so much?"

His eyes darted to the left, his back straightened stiffly.

"Yes."

"Draco, I thought that we established that you're a terrible liar."

"And I established that you were wrong—"

"Wait. If he was lying, then..." Pansy suddenly stood up, throwing a pillow at Draco's chest. "What the fuck, Draco Lucinda Malfoy?!"

"Pans, that's not really my middle name—"

"How can you not know— Theo!" she barked. "If you loved someone, wouldn't you know who they are?"

"Well, kind of?" Theo scratched his head. "But I guess it kind of makes sense for Draco to not know. I mean..."

"Hey, now, what is that supposed to mean?" Draco snapped, his eyes cold.

"Have you ever genuinely liked someone?"

"I spend time with a wanker like you, don't I?"

Theo rolled his eyes. "Romantically, git."

"I don't know, prat."

"Alright, boys, simmer down. Don't go blasting your old-lady insults now. This is serious. What do you mean by 'I don't know'?"

Draco paused, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together tightly. "Remember to what I said to you back in third year?"

"About...?"

"About how I thought all of you were my best friends? Because I've never had any before?"

Theo interrupted him there. "Mate, that's so sad."

"No shit," Draco drawled lazily, his eyes glazing over with boredom. On that day, Draco had just heard about Sirius Black, who his mother had been particularly fond of when they were younger. Draco hadn't understood what she meant when she said that Sirius 'was her best friend' so Draco had brought it up with his usual companions. His friends practically shot up with surprise. Pansy, especially, had gone all mother-hen on him and burst into tears as she wailed that she'd thought they were best friends this whole time. "So I suppose that unless that particular person spoke to me of it..."

Draco relaxes back into his chair. Both Pansy and Theo just look at him in utter horror. "You mean..."

"It's highly unlikely that I will realize it on my own," Draco finishes.

After all, how can one recognize something that they've never had before?

"Mother Morgana," Pansy cursed under her breath.

Draco's situations always seem to be the most dire.

First the Dark Lord coming back, then came the slander on the Malfoy name, and then the application of more pressure. If Theo had been in his shoes, he would have combusted. But Draco hadn't. And now... well, even back then... Draco had gone ill.

This wasn't fair.

"We'll find that person," Theo decided suddenly. "Or develop a different cure. Draco Lucinda Mallory, you aren't dying on us."

Draco groaned. "That isn't my name either!"

Chapter Text

"Flower count?" Pansy asked softly when they sat down in the empty Common Room after lunch. Blaise and Theo sat across from them, talking lowly about a new broom model or the like. Draco smiled, fishing a bundle of them out of his pocket. It was stacked neatly into a pile, one that was about two inches in height. He'd cleaned them of all blood— a technique that would ensure that nobody noticing them would think that he had killed a person on a flowerbed and brought back a trophy for the achievement. "Merlin," she cursed when her eyes fell on the stack.

Her bottom lip was beginning to bruise with how often she was worrying over him.

"Eighteen," Draco said lowly. "Do you think I could make my mother a hand-made bouquet when it's added to the rest of my collection?"

"A personal-problem one, looks like," Pansy shot back. "Draco, should you really be worrying about what to owl her for Valentine's? Valentine's itself is like a threat right now."

"To be fair, it has been since third year. Besides, I think it'd be entertaining to assort them into an acceptable bouquet. Mother has always enjoyed flowers that I picked from the garden. A customized one wouldn't hurt," Draco plundered on. "If I assembled the colors just right, perhaps she would allow it to be kept in the garden."

"That's not an idea I would recommend, Draco," Pansy said. "You should just tell her. Her resources are sure to be more advanced than us."

Ever since Pansy and Theo found out, they both took it upon themselves to head to the library during their free periods or during Quidditch matches. They wouldn't say much about their visits, but Draco knew that they'd been sneaking into the Restricted Section to find a cure for him. So far, judging by the lack of excitement in the air, they've come up empty.

And the thing was, Pansy and Theo were incredible individuals and the Hogwarts library was one of the largest sources for information in the world.

So if they couldn't find any information in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts, his mother sure as hell won't find anything at home.

"I doubt it," Draco said when he realized she was expecting an answer. "Not to mention how angry she'd be with Muggles. She'd start a war immediately upon knowledge of such a thing."

"Of course. I wanted to do the same when you told me," Pansy said, gripping Draco's right hand with a old wizard's grip. And though Draco was not weak, he winced.

But before Draco could point this out to her, Theo tossed him a vial. Draco caught it with his left, staring at it blankly. He would've believed it empty if it had not been for the shimmer of magic Draco's refined eyes caught.

"What is this?" he asked politely.

"It's a healing suppressor. It temporarily stops the bleeding and the aching levels while rebuilding the injured parts," Theo explained without hesitation, just low enough for Draco, Pansy, and Blaise to hear. Draco nodded, pocketing the vial. They resumed to their separate conversations.

"Pansy, you would maul a bear if you could—"

"Draco's sick?" Blaise shouted out all of a sudden, standing up indignantly.

"Wait, you didn't know?" The other three Slytherins looked at each other.

"Why are you looking at me? I thought you told him," Pansy cried out.

Theo raised both hands. "Me? I thought Draco was going to tell him."

Which totally wasn't fair of him to say that. Because how was Draco supposed to tell him, 'oh hey, Blaise, congrats on getting back on the Quidditch team—by the way, I'm sick with a fictional disease, no biggie'? Blaise would have killed him much faster than this stupid disease was going to the moment he found out. And though he doesn't have much to live for, Draco values his life.

So, obviously, it should have been one of them.

"And I suspected that you would've told him, Pansy."

Blaise just looked at all of them in horror.

"So all of you knew, and none of you bothered to tell me?!" Blaise shouted. He pulled on his hair, frantically pacing back and forth. "What the fuck?"

Luckily, nobody else was in the Slytherin Common Room to witness the way Blaise's magic cut through the silence. Most were probably in the library, still eating, or skipping lunch to continue practice on the Quidditch Pitch. He has a dark scowl, his expression darkening as his sense of betrayal grew. If anyone other than Pansy, Theo, and Draco had witnessed this, they would have labelled him 'mad' or 'dangerous'. Others would have said he was on the way down the same road his mother had been on before she drove herself to insanity.

But Draco and his other closest friends knew that he just feels hurt when he lashes out like this.

After letting his stew in his juices for a bit, Draco tentatively stood up and steps towards him. He places a gentle hand on his shoulder, clearing his throat softly.

"Apologies, Blaise," Draco begins slowly. "It's not that I wouldn't have trusted you with the knowledge, but there was never a proper time to let you know. After Theo had found out nearly a month ago, he attempted to pressure me into telling you as well. However, you were just re-scouted onto the team, congratulations were in order, and then your birthday came up a week later. After that, we had additional lesson preparation and Hogsmeade weekend. I wouldn't dare to leave you out intentionally."

"Better not," Blaise growled. "Why didn't you tell me afterwards?"

Wincing at his dark glare, Draco looked away. "Would it be surreal to claim that I didn't want you to look at me the way you are right now?"

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

"Blaise, you are radiating dark intent," Draco said slowly. He cleared his throat. "Besides, I didn't want to risk ruining our friendship—"

"Do you really think that you mean so little to me that I would throw you away?" Blaise cried out.

Draco shut his mouth.

"Draco, you are my best friend. We grew up together— hell, we are growing up together. From the moment I stepped foot into the manor, you befriended me on your own accord even though I looked like I was some kicked-to-the-curb child. You took me under your wing, feeding me bits of knowledge of my own family, which had abandoned me without a second glance.

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have transferred from Durmstrang and come here, a place where I am most certainly unwelcome and ostracised, to support your idiotic goal of ruining Potter's life! You were the one to tell me that I shouldn't listen to them— 'fuck them all' were your precise words— and you were the one who protected me when Father tried to maul me with a boggart! So why, in Merlin's god forsaken name, would you think that I would abandon you when you need me?"

Draco played with his fingers. "I don't need you, per say..."

"Draco, if you would just quit that stupid 'I'm strong on my goddamn own' mask for a minute!" Blaise snapped. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. That wasn't the point he was trying to make after all. "What I'm trying to say is that you were there for me and you weren't even giving me a chance to do the same for you. And, god, I'm not looking at you with anything. I'm just pissed that I had to find out from Theo, who fucking helped you already."

"To be fair, he hasn't helped me all too much," Draco said, desperate to please Blaise. Perhaps it was the fact that Blaise had an entire speech including a tidbit about their childhood that pushed Draco to feel as if he was on the verge of losing him. Merlin, if Draco loses him—

"Bullshit. He handed you a vial. It's colorless. Took weeks to brew," Blaise accused. Draco looked away sheepishly. He knows better than all of them that an entirely clear vial means that all the ingredients are of the highest quality, and that it means the difficulty of the potion was higher than required in NEWTs. "Theo takes care of you. And Pansy protects you. On the other hand, I don't even know what the hell you're sick with—"

"Hanahaki," Draco interrupted.

"—and I'm the last to know, meaning that I'll be the last to do anything. Merlin, what kind of bloody friend am I if I can’t fucking help you? And what the hell can I do when every job's been taken up?”

Tears rimmed Draco's eyes. This was it. He was losing Blaise.

Unless...

"Stay?" Draco pleaded.

Something in Blaise's eyes soften. With one step, Blaise closed the distance between them, allowing Draco to rest his forehead against his shoulder. "Of course I will. I'm not leaving you. Pansy would feed me to the wolves."

Draco let out a startled laugh at that. It’s a sign of forgiveness if Draco had ever seen one. "Okay."

"You’re not off the hook though, Draco. Just tell me what’s going on."

Draco nodded, slowly telling him all that he knows of it. At the end if his explanation, Blaise nodded twice before making his way back to where they’d all been sitting peacefully. He took a seat quietly, which was a complete one-eighty from his earlier reaction.

"Draco caught me up to speed," he said pleasantly.

Theo sighed. "Good, because we need your expertise."

"Expertise? In what?" Draco and Blaise asked at the same time.

"Your expertise on Draco. You know him better than he knows himself," Pansy said nonchalantly. She checked her nails.

Draco silently agreed with that. He was always able to pick out Draco’s mood before Draco felt it, and he always seemed to know what to do or get in order to cheer him up. Not to mention how Blaise knows a shitload of embarrassing moments that he could simply pick out from his sleeve— most of which Draco probably would not even remember. In times like these, when Blaise could threaten him into venturing out and confessing to everyone he laid sight on, Draco hated Blaise’s incredible talent of remembering the details.

"I doubt it." His eyes darted towards Draco. "I only know him as well as he lets me."

"Which just so happens to be more than he knows himself," Pansy said gently. "You probably know what his three-year-old self wanted for Christmas— bloody hell, is it Blaise?"

Draco cringed.

"Merlin, no. Blaise is just a friend. My feelings for him are exactly the same as my feelings for you and Theo."

"That’s a relief," all three of them said at the same time. When they catch each other's eyes, they snickered.

"Wouldn't it be hilarious if Draco loved all three of us at the same time?" Pansy cackled.

"Laugh all you want. Even then, I wouldn't have chosen you first," Draco huffed.

"We switch shifts in the library everyday depending on the schedule," Pansy said once she was done rolling her eyes. "While you try to figure out who this mystery lover is, we’ll be looking for any possible cures."

Blaise scowled. "I’m going to pummel the git."

Draco forgot Blaise knew that he admired blokes.

"Which is why you’re helping me out this way," Draco said gently. "Pansy’s abilities can only go so far, and Theo is incapable of capturing an insect. Not that I can’t take care of myself—"

"Don’t lie, Draco. You won’t see reason unless someone helps out," Blaise stopped him there. 

Draco huffed. "Not true. I am perfectly capable of seeing reason."

"Right. Like the time when Professor Hagrid's bird attacked your arm and you started crying because you were terrified, not injured," Blaise drawled. Draco's face burned in embarrassment despite the fact that everyone present knew.

"That was one time..." he protested weakly.

"What about last year? When you begged me to hoist you up on that tree just so you could 'look down at Potter and not just because he's short'? Was that one time as well?" Blaise mocked.

"Whatever. The point is: I can take care of myself."

"Draco, you cried when you got a paper cut last week—"

"Blaise!" Draco hissed. Blaise made a zipping motion over his lips. Pansy and Theo poorly stifled their laughter when Draco glared at them. "I don't need Blaise to protect me, but I wouldn't mind if he helped out. Just a little."

"Sure," Blaise drawled.

The glint in his eye made Draco want to jinx him.

"Whatever. I'm going to Charms."

"Don't embarrass yourself trying to bother Potter, Draco," Theo teased as Draco walked out.

Flipping him off, Draco cursed him out for Theo's own mistakes.

Chapter Text

By the end of the week, it was clear that something between them had changed.

Whatever any of them had been holding back seemingly came tumbling out now. All three of them tried to squeeze into the same table as Draco during the classes they shared, they put plate on his food like he was a starved adolescent, they dragged Draco to the library for extensive periods of time... perhaps that is the most shocking thing Draco had been forced to endure.

Sticking to him? Draco's experienced that with Vince and Greg before. Over-feeding? Dobby used to do this to him when he refused to come out for dinner. But over-studying? His friends used to rather die than tag along when Draco wanted to pick up a single book. All three of them used to have this stupid excuse to avoid the place, but now they were dragging Draco back to the place every day. It horrified him to see how they did a one-eighty within the span of one week.

Blaise, especially.

Pansy and Theo had already been visiting the library occasionally to complete their homework or to research Draco's curse.

Blaise on the other hand?

He was infamous for saying 'if you even mention homework, I'll hex you to Friday'.

But ever since he found out, Blaise finishes his homework in a blink of an eye without so much as a complaint. He reads books on his own violation. He quit Quidditch, his one and only beloved love of his life— 'play without me; I can always try out again next year, Draco' he said when Draco asked him about it. It was like he was trying to will Draco into not dying by simply giving into every one of Draco's oldest complaints.

On Friday, when they stepped into the Great Hall for dinner, everyone stopped what they were doing to watch them. The usually rowdy Gryffindors quieted down, the always analyzing Ravenclaws watched them walk pass, the normally chittering Hufflepuffs began curiously whispering one another, and the naturally quiet Slytherins simply scooted to make far too much room for the four of them at the end of the table.

Even the professors looked at them, a clear question asked in Professor Snape's eyes.

Maybe it was because they felt like something was off about the bunch of them.

Actually, it may be because because Draco was trying (and failing) to restrain Pansy from doing her homework as she walked. Or maybe it was because Blaise was carrying a few scrolls of notes with him. Or maybe it was because Theo casually reading a romance novel.

Whatever it was, it seemed to put everyone at unease.

When they arrived at the Slytherin table, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo absolutely refused to take a seat before Draco did. Grumbling about it, Draco complied. Then, as if a nonexistent switch was flipped, Blaise waved a protective charm around all four of them and sat next to him. He promptly laid out all the scrolls and started jotting down additional notes without even glancing up. Pansy placed a warm biscuit on Draco's plate. Theo then poured Draco a glass of orange juice, not even looking up from his book.

Draco's best friends didn't seem to care that everyone was looking at them

Draco did though, and he had no idea what he did to them to be deserving of this much humiliation.

"I can do all of this myself!" he exclaimed. Pansy hushed him, tutting as she finally took her seat beside him. "I've done this all before on my own!"

"Yes, darling, I know. And now we're here," she cooed, patting his head.

"This is ridiculous," he groaned, doing his best to hide his flushed cheeks using his hands. Though everyone went back to what they were doing from earlier, Draco could still feel their judgmental glances. "Have you no shame?"

"Well, let them shame us," Blaise replied coolly. 'I refuse to let them stop us' went unsaid. "That has never bothered us before. Why would it now?"

"Perhaps it's because you guys are acting strange?" Draco pointed out lamely.

"No, we're not," Theo replied, eyes not leaving his book. "Pansy's making sure you eat properly, I'm doing research, and Blaise is finishing all of his homework. We're totally fine. And so will you."

No matter how touched he was that they were doing all of this for him, Draco knew he had to put an end to this.

"But I have been fine!" Draco declared.

It's true. After Draco downed Theo's vial, it seemed as though the flowers have stopped. Draco had been able to exercise without wheezing and there hasn't been an increase in blood loss or in petal gain.

So it didn't make sense to him why his friends were trying to spoil him like this.

"We don't know that for sure," Pansy replied, continuing to write mindlessly. She spelled some more food onto Draco's plate: more biscuits, chicken, and (without listening to Draco's loud noise of protest) vegetables. "It's only been a week. We have no idea how long Theo's potion will last."

"Exactly! It's been a week! Why are you guys acting up now?"

"We've recently realized that our previous efforts didn't have as many results," Blaise replied in her stead. "But, don't worry. We'll help you figure this out."

"Merlin's beard."

"Just relax until we find a more suitable potion," Theo said.

Pansy added, "Or spell."

"Or solution." Blaise nodded along, dabbing his quill in the inkwell.

"Besides, three pairs of hands are more effective than one. It'll be like you never had it in the first place, darling."

Huffing, Draco reluctantly agreed. Three additional people helping him with his dilemma would certainly provide a solution quicker than on his own. Not that Draco wanted the solution since death seemed almost certain now, but his friends were the most enthusiastic for something than they've ever been more. That's why, at first at least, Draco refused to take this away from them.

Even if it would destroy them in the end, it feels nice to be smothered in their appreciation and devotion.

Perhaps, Draco's being a little too greedy however.

"Listen," Draco began slowly. He bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of how to continue. "Maybe it's better if all of you stop. I'd like to spend some time outside of the library—"

"Then do so."

"— with all of you," Draco finished lamely. All of them stopped and looked at him in surprise. "We could fly, go to Hogsmeade, eat lunch by the lake... maybe take a little break from all the research and homework."

"No," Pansy savagely rejected. She went back to writing. "Draco, we're going to find another cure. We can do all of that when you get better."

"If I get better."

"You will."

"There's a chance I won't."

"Draco—"

"Blaise, let me finish." Draco takes a deep breath. "All of you need to realize that one might never show up. I'm grateful that all of you care enough to try and help me, but for Merlin's sake, don't obsess over something that's not guaranteed. Once the effects of Theo's potion dies off, whatever he suppressed will come back. I could get better or get worse, and if it's the latter, I'll inevitably die. We might never find out who this person is, and we might never have the time you guys are all trying to convince me of.

"Maybe it's time for us to just accept that it could happen," Draco continued. "Maybe... maybe it's time for us to give up. Pretend like nothing's happening. Go back to being insufferable idiots."

Pansy, Theo, and Blaise looked at him like he truly was stupid.

"Absolutely not," Blaise grit out. "You can not fucking talk as if you've given up, Draco, and you can not tell us to give up on you. We will not fucking stop looking, even if you try to convince us to. You are worth more than words, Draco, and you will live through this. You will get the best NEWT score possible in Potions, you will beat Potter in Quidditch, you will be the first Prime Minister in the Malfoy line, you will be the first to beat the shit out of Theo when he messes up the flower arrangement at your fucking wedding like when he used to mess up his potions, and you will be the first to get ugly wrinkles out of all of us. So don't forgive us when we prove that we believe in you, Draco, but don't forget us when you're outliving us."

"What he means to say is: we're not giving up. And that's that," Theo cut Blaise off before he could say anymore.

"But, this doesn't mean that we're not going to spend time with you either," Pansy smoothed over. "We can do all of that— Hogsmeade, Quidditch, going to the lake— as well, alright? We'll take turns and we'll go as a group every once in a while."

"Pansy, what about—"

"We'll bring materials with us during those days." Pansy waved Theo's worry off. Then she looked at Draco, her eyes softening. She reached over and held one of his hands. "We'll find that something or someone, Draco. We'll see to it that you do all the things that Blaise had just said."

His eyes probably really teary by now, Draco nodded mutely.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Theo cleared his throat. "So which do you want to do first?"

"Which what?" Draco asked.

"Lake, Hogsmeade, broom...?" Blaise piped up.

"Whichever one you'd like," Draco requested. "Preferably with all of you at first?"

Pansy smiled. "Alright. We'll go flying. We can even set up a little match."

"I call Draco on my team!" Blaise announced dramatically.

"What? No way! Draco's going to be with me!" Pansy protested. "I came up with the idea; it's only fair I partner with the best flier."

Theo snorted. "Please. Draco will be with me. He needs someone decent enough to support him."

"Which is me," Blaise argued.

A soft smile gracing his features, Draco picked up his orange juice and drank from it quietly. While his friends argued childishly about a game they'd need approval from both Madam Hooch and Professor Snape from, Draco allowed himself to pretend that he'd live the way they'd imagined for him.

Chapter Text

'They'd give up eventually.'

After that failure of trying to convince them during dinner, that's what Draco went to sleep believing.

But for two days in a row, when he went to wake Blaise and Theo up, Draco found that they were sleeping on the desks with books in front of them. Draco was quick to cast an anti-sore charm, feeling albeit guilty about them having to think that they needed to hide their research from him. When he sent his eagle owl to check on Pansy, Leia came back with the news that she was in the same position.

So, after he lost patience with the team on Monday, Draco ditched practice to seek them out and apologize for even bringing up the prospect of giving up.

And, as expected, they were hiding out in the library.

Draco sighed in relief when he spotted the familiar back hair, grabbing a random book off the shelf as he walked towards them. "Blaise, you won't believe what Urquhart tried to—" Draco skidded to a stop. "Potter."

Potter looked up from where he stood awkwardly, Weasley and Granger by his side. They seemed to be engaged in a heated argument with Draco's friends, who were staring at him in horror. It was then that Draco realized that he hadn't bothered to cast a cleaning charm and, thus, his clothes had a rather nasty red splotch on it.

"Ketchup," Draco blurted out. Blaise, Pansy, and Theo immediately relaxed and their wands lowered the slightest of fractions. Then Draco realized how out of context he was from the perspective of the Idiot Duo Plus Granger. (Granger was an exception to the insult as she is obviously the most brilliant of their Gryffindor lot.) "I mean, Urquhart couldn't catch up. With me, I mean." Then he cleared his throat. "Potter, this is a private conversation. What are you still doing here?"

"We were talking first—"

Draco scoffed. "Still hung up on the past, Golden Boy?" Draco drawled. He cast a quick charm and perched himself on the table. "Honestly, some of us are growing more mature. Will you stash away your childhood trauma for another day?"

Potter's eyes flashed dangerously. But Weasley's words stopped him.

"He's not worth it, mate."

Something in Draco snapped at that. He wasn't worth it? "Scram, Weasel," he hissed.

This time, Weasley's word wasn't enough to hold Potter back. Which was fine since Draco had some adrenaline he needed to rid of as well. When Potter threw a punch to his face, Draco was quick to block it and throw a cut of his own. Potter wasn't so lucky; he stumbled back but before he could retaliate, Blaise tugged Draco back.

"Can't even take you a punch, Malfoy? Still a skittish ferret are you?"

Draco lunged forwards.

"Draco— Draco! Stop!" Blaise was begging him to leave well enough alone— no doubt his fear that Draco's heightened emotions would bring back the full force of the Hanahaki. But his concern only fueled Draco's never unwavering anger. Being transfigured into a ferret wasn't an easy walk in the greenhouse. It was physically and mentally straining: having his bones restructured and his mind ripped apart like he was being crucio'd nearly killed him. And hearing Potter, of all people, toss his pain aside made Draco see red.

"Let me go!"

He didn't know what he was squirming around for.

Why did he care so much about Potter's opinion of him?

"Draco, stop it," Blaise hissed. "Don't undo this because of Potter."

'This' being their combined efforts of course.

Their combined efforts which Draco had practically begged them to stop because he viewed his situation in a different light than his friends did. Their combined efforts which left them physically and mentally exhausted every morning. Their combined efforts which Draco had never asked them for.

Pansy, Blaise, and Theo had done, and changed, so many things simply because of Draco. Could he not let go of his pride this once for them?

Gritting his teeth, Draco took a deep breath and slackened. "Understood. Now let me go."

His eyes rose to meet Potter's, who looked both perplexed and enraged by his reaction.

"I guess what they said about you is true." Draco jumped at that. "Pathetic."

Pathetic?

Draco wanted to laugh.

Merlin, yes, he was pathetic.

When you're the only one in bloody history to have a fictional curse, what else could you be but absolutely 'pathetic'?

Hope is practically non-existent, and Draco had been indulging himself in the ignorance that his friends continued to have in the face of the definite. If he already wasn't pathetic, he'd be stupid.

"Right. Pathetic," Draco repeated bitterly. Potter looked like he'd been slapped when Draco had done that. "Now, will all of you scram? Your presence isn't wanted."

They scowled but left nonetheless.

The moment they disappeared from Draco's peripheral vision, the blond perched himself back on top of the desk.

"Had anything happened before I arrived?" he asked, turning to his friends for answers. It was then that Draco saw Pansy's teary face and Theo's torn one. Blaise appeared indifferent, but Draco knew that he was anything but that. "What did they do? I swear—"

"Draco—" all of his friends started at the same time. But then they argued with their glances and Pansy seemingly won. "Draco, darling, you understand that you are... not-pathetic right? Potter, he... none of them know. Not like we do, alright? Being cursed isn't pathetic. Everyone gets cursed once or twice in their lives—"

"Sure." Draco let out a dry laugh. "Well, can we not talk about those idiots? I came under the pretense that I could talk to my lovely Blaise."

Rigidness reluctantly leaving his friends, Blaise rolled his eyes. "Alright, you want one of two things: trash-talk Urquhart and compare him to Fitch or you're trying to convince me to give you back your cake."

"I—" Actually, the second option sounded wonderful at the moment. "Please? One more bite wouldn't hurt, right?"

"Draco, just because you don't gain more than two pounds per year, it doesn't mean that you should indulge in sweets left and right. Especially from Montague. He's been creeping on you since third year."

"Well, I don't mind it as long as I get cake," Draco drawled. Granted, he'd first felt uncomfortable by the thought of a man's eyes on him, but now Draco feels nothing but flattered. Draco himself didn't have the moral high ground so— once he got over himself of course— he was pleased with Montague's affections. Even if it was not reciprocated. "Besides, you've already checked for jinxes, hexes, curses, all potions possible... even traces of magic. The cake is completely spell free, Blaise."

"But it doesn't mean he didn't put a different kind of poison in it!"

Draco scoffed. "Didn't you say the same thing when Warrington handed you a tart? You ate it anyways."

"No I didn't!"

Pansy and Theo were there to back him up.

"Yes you did." "You did."

They totally were.

"Alright, well I was wrong that time. Cass wouldn't have poisoned me."

"And you think Montag would? In comparison to Warrington, he would be a Niffler if Warrington was a dragon," Draco argued. "Don't be so stingy, Blaise."

Blaise huffed, and the cake slice's disillusionment charm was waved off. Draco's eyes lit up at the sight of it and, as if on cue, Blaise snatched a big bite from him. Personally offended, Draco's eyes narrowed. He hopped off the desk, his mood worsening when Blaise continued to eat from it without his consent.

"Blaise, that was mine."

"Obviously not," Blaise snickered, finishing it before Draco could utter another word.

"I'll give you five."

"Five what?"

"Four," Pansy said in response.

"Three," Theo added.

As if Blaise had finally caught on, his eyes widened. He spelled his materials into his bag, sprinting out of the library under the pretense that Draco would murder him once the countdown reached zero.

"Good day," Draco said stiffly. Then, not even glancing towards Pansy and Theo to view their reactions, he turned on his heel and followed Blaise's magical trace.

Chapter Text

It was a lovely day in November when Draco felt like he was falling into a lovely routine.

Things finally started to look as if they were looking up: the sun was out, Slytherin was finally regaining their lost Quidditch touch, and Draco's friends had relatively settled down from their overworking frenzy.

Of course though, like Draco was another damsel in distress in a Muggle novel, disaster struck.

It came in the form of walking up one of the many flights of stairs and looking out the window.

One moment Draco was in peace, and in another, Potter flew by and invoked outrage.

Or something else.

Whatever it was, it sent Draco's mind spiraling. He suddenly felt pain searing into his mind, his heart was constricting painfully, and so sick that he only had a moment to gurgle out a non-understandable plea for help before he blacked out.

When he awoke, Draco was confronted with the sight of Pansy holding his hand, Blaise leaning against one of the poles, and Theo speed-embedding notes into a scroll. They looked like they were on the verge of passing out. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a pained whine.

In a flash, all their attention was on him.

"Draco!" Pansy all but cried. Blaise and Theo weren't as vocal about their relief, but Draco didn't miss the way that their shoulders relaxed and the way that their lips pursed into a deep exhale. Theo, in particular, appeared the most roughened up of the three of them. Draco wondered if he'd gotten in a fight on the way to the... Hospital Wing? Is that where he was? He could've sworn he was going up to the Astronomy Tower... "Salazar Slytherin— Merlin— Draco—where's Madam Pomfrey?"

While she ran away in search for the Hogwarts Healer, Theo shakily transfigured his quill into a glass and cast a quick aguamenti. He helped Draco up, pressing the cool cup to his lips. When Draco had his fill, he closed his eyes tiredly. Theo almost jumped back. "Draco? Are you okay...?"

"Merlin, I wish," Draco huffed. Theo didn't laugh.

"Draco, don't say things like that," Theo murmured. "Don't... we— Draco, don't go."

"I'll try," Draco replied. He doesn't know where he's not supposed to go though. Theo nodded once, stepping back to let Blaise have his say.

He was not as cyptic as Theo was thankfully. Draco doesn't know if that was better though. Blaise just grasped Draco's hands tight enough to block the blood flow as he kneeled by Draco's bed. "Weasley found you," Blaise stated, his voice cracking. "You had fallen down the stairs, blood and flowers trailing to where you'd stood."

"Fuck." Then that meant that Theo was trying to ask him not to die. "How long have I been out?"

"Two weeks. You lost so much blood, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape almost didn't have enough blood replenishing potions for you. And then..." his voice broke, "Draco, your body started to reject them. Merlin, it was so bad, all of us thought you'd be like this for forever."

Draco didn't know whether he was referring to the entire Hogwarts occupants, Slytherin House occupants, or just them three, but the notion of anyone caring for him was warming. But, Draco didn't know what to say to Blaise's claim. He did know that he should to lighten the unwanted tension though. "I missed the first game, didn't I?"

Blaise half-sobbed, half-laughed. "You nearly died and you care about Quidditch of all things."

"Well, that had been on my mind at the time," Draco replied. Then he paused. "Oh, do stop crying, Blaise."

"You're so fucking heartless, Draco." Blaise wiped his wet eyes anyways, letting out one last broken shudder. "If you must know, the Slytherin-Ravenclaw game had been postpones. When all of us first heard about you, we crowded the Hospital Wing and actively cursed out anyone else who tried to stop us from doing so. Urquhart stopped practice. None of us wanted to play a game without knowing Hogwarts' Star Seeker was alright."

Resting his head back against the wall, Draco laughed. "Hogwarts Star Seeker? I think you've mixed me up with Potter."

Blaise frowned. "Bullshit. You're practically on par, perhaps even more refined and elegant than Potter. He's just gotten lucky. Besides, Slytherin would rather be damned than to have Harper fly in your stead. Even Harper said so."

Something akin to bashfulness, pride, and pleasantness wormed its way into Draco's ill heart.

"In that case, when's the new date?" he asked nonchalantly.

"You're not playing," Blaise shot down savagely.

"Wha— Blaise, you just said—"

"Draco, I mean that we'd like you alive. Quidditch is a dangerous sport, and there are too many risks up there for you."

"Oh bugger off! So what? I'm permanently benched? Just because of this—" He cut himself off when he realized that Pansy had arrived with Madam Pomfrey beside her.

The Madam Pomfrey who simply bursted into tears when her eyes landed on him.

"Mr. Malfoy, you gave us quite a start."

Draco glanced at Theo. "I heard."

"And your tense posture suggests that you heard you won't be participating in any matches this year."

Glaring towards Blaise, Draco grit his teeth. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't be angry at Mr. Zabini, Mr. Malfoy. He was simply relaying the combined decision of Headmaster Dumbledore, all professors, and your Housemates. Your fall broke several bones, and the potions you rejected sadly added to the harm. It might take months for your body to heal entirely, which is why it might be best to avoid Quidditch for a while." Then she paused. "Mr. Nott has informed me that he'd given you a potion a month and a half ago. However, he refused to go into the specifics of it without your consent."

A chill ran up Draco's spine. Shaking his head 'no', Draco shut his eyes tightly. "Madam Pomfrey, I... I guarantee that Theo did not use any illegal substances or methods. He helped my condition and, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like for him to continue doing so. I trust him."

"Mr. Malfoy, that is highly not suggested—"

Draco held up a hand, placing his shoes onto the cold tiles tentatively. "With all due respect ma'am, Hogwarts surely does not have anything that could help me. I've long since accepted it, but Theo's formula offers an out. Thus, I'll be going with my best option. I appreciate your concern, however."

Draco buttoned up his loose shirt, sending a little spark of magic to smoothen his robes out. Then he sent tight-lipped smile her way. "Unless you provide a better alternative, or a solution my friends have not yet found, I see no reason in remaining here. Thank you for your care."

With that, Draco made his way out of the Hospital Wing with wobbly legs. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo rushed out after him— Theo and Blaise pressing themselves against Draco's sides to support him. Pansy walked beside Blaise, her eyes still teary from earlier. "You should've given her a chance," Pansy said.

"And hear her say the same thing as you guys but in a more delicate way? No. If none of you can't help me, neither can she. That much I am certain... how many did I lose by the way?"

"A lot. All three of us couldn't collect all of them, even when we used all of our pockets, transfigured bags, and our hands."

Merlin, he hoped they cleaned it properly.

"I suppose a month of detriment wasn't as effective as we thought huh?" Draco joked. "Though, I suppose I'd be alright with passing out every few weeks or so—"

"No," Theo said, his voice cold. When Draco glanced his way, he finally realized why Theo in particular had been so devastated by his collapse. He looked as if he'd been trying to punish himself. "If you nearly died because of me—"

"What are you talking about?" Draco snapped. "I didn't die. Besides, it wasn't as if everything would have been fine for forever. That's why you spent so many hours researching anyways. Both of us knew this was a temporary thing—"

"Yeah, but I thought—" Theo cut himself off, his eyes fluttering shut. "I thought it might have helped better than that."

"It didn't but I'm fine."

"We wouldn't be," Pansy muttered. "If we see you in a comatose state again, Draco, I don't think we would be able to take it anymore. You mean too much for us to gamble with."

"I know," Draco replied quietly. It wasn't as if he thought he didn't mean anything. After all, if he meant nothing, why would his friends even bother helping him? "I didn't mean it that way."

"We know, Draco," Blaise said. "But, you needed to hear it. You have this habit of dissing yourself where it's not needed."

Draco chuckled. "So I need it in others?"

"Shut the hell up. See if I try to offer consolation again!" Blaise huffed. Draco smiled weakly, but before he could ask about how much sleep they've been getting, Granger, Weasley, and Potter rounded the corner. They were all very surprised to see him.

"Malfoy!" Weasley, in particular, seemed the most relieved. "You're awake."

"Yes."

"You worried many people," Weasley said as if Draco didn't hear it already. "Everyone was freaking out."

Opening his mouth, Draco paused. He debated with himself silently before he swallowed his pride and prejudice and nodded. "Thank you by the way. Blaise informed me of how you were the one to find me."

"I only saw you first. I wasn't strong enough so Harry was the one to bring you to the Hospital Wing," Weasley said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn't seem to know what to do with Draco's appreciation either.

Draco blinked slowly, turning his attention to the brunette who was looking at everywhere but him. His ears were pink. "I see. In that case, thank you as well, Potter."

"Sure," Potter mumbled. "So you're alright now?"

"Miss me on the pitch already?" Draco laughed drily. "Well, apparently I'm well enough to be kicked off the team."

"That's untrue!" Blaise protested. "Only until—"

"Yeah, yeah," Draco waved him off dismissively.

"You aren't playing Quidditch anymore?" Potter asked, genuine disappointment leaking into his voice.

Shooting a nasty glare Blaise's way when he tried to interrupt, Draco replied, "No. Though, you can count on Slytherin winning this year, Potter. I plan on training Harper specifically to steal the snitch from you."

Potter rolled his eyes. "You wish."

"As lovely was this meeting was, we have plans set for the Common Room," Pansy interrupted smoothly. She smiled softly at Draco. "We need to make sure that Draco here catches up with our curriculum."

Draco was suddenly pissed that he'd missed two weeks worth of classes. It'd take forever for him to catch up.

"I can give you my notes," Granger offers quietly. Draco blinked.

"What?"

"My notes," Granger repeated, her voice a bit louder. Draco's mouth opened and closed uselessly. Was he dreaming? Was Hermione Granger, the best friend of his arch-rival, offering to give him her notes? Her notes which helped her get better grades than him in almost all subjects? The notes which famously helped Potter and Weasel not-fail their classes? Even though they didn't even have all of the same classes? Why the hell would she do that?

"Thank you for your lovely offer, Granger," Theo responded for him. "However, Draco is a freak when it comes to his studies. I'm afraid he may trouble you unnecessarily."

In other words, Draco was an asshole.

Draco couldn't even attack Theo though. That was just how surprised he was to hear Granger herself offer him assistance. In Draco's opinion, Weasley helped him because he didn't want to get framed for Draco's murder and Potter helped him because he didn't want to lose the only competition he had. But Granger? She had absolutely no plausible reason to do so.

Luckily, Draco didn't gape like a fish out of water for long. His best friends maneuvered him away from them and brought him back to the Common Room. When he was set down on his King-sized bed, Draco snapped out of his daze.

"Was I hallucinating?" Draco wondered out-loud stupidly. "Did I lose too much blood? Did Granger really offer that?"

"Yes, that really happened," Blaise replied simply. Used to Draco's theatrics, he handed him a bundle of newly-ironed clothing. Which, by the way, was something Draco knew he was capable of doing. Blaise Zabini, ironer of silk? Draco could never had imagined it of the Blaise that he knew. "You should change your clothes and get some more rest. When you wake up, we'll brief you on what you've missed."

Draco nodded slowly, unbuttoning his crumply shirt and pulling on the fresh pair. proper rest and care is needed for maximum information absorption after all. Pansy untangled knots from his hair as he got under the covers, wiping her already dry tears. Draco felt overly-coddled.

And then the warming charm of the sheets no longer did their job.

"Will..." He'd been passed out for two weeks. He lost time with his best friends— will lose more precious time with his family. He didn't... he didn't want to be alone for anymore. He didn't want to be robbed of any more minutes. Even if he'll be unconscious for most of the time. "Will all of you lie with me? Or at least accompany me until I wake up?"

"Honestly, Draco," Blaise mock-scolded. He casted a cleaning charm on his clothes anyways as he snuggled in beside Draco. Pansy and Theo were already complying to Draco's request. "You're so spoiled."

"And who's fault is that?" Draco asked with a small yawn. He draped his arm around Pansy and sent him a tiny smirk. Blaise flipped him off but closed his eyes anyways.

Chapter Text

Unsurprisingly, after that incident, Draco is dragged to the library more often. Well not dragged, but more like carried. They tried dragging him once and Draco nearly cried from the amount of strain his arm was put into. So instead of that, they decided that all three of them would alternate in giving him a piggy-back ride. And, unsurprisingly after that, those bloody Gryffindors started creeping on them every day.

It was incredible how dense and how stupid those lions were.

All in all, everything was pretty much normal.

If one simply does not count looking outside the window and staring longingly towards the Quidditch pitch instead of training that is.

"Here," Theo said quietly, handing Draco a cup of warm milk.

Draco took it gratefully, blowing into it a few times before sipping. "Are you lot alright? It's getting awfully chilly, isn't it?"

"If this is you telling us to cast a warming charm, you're not in luck," Blaise snorted. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Very funny, Blaise. You can't not associate me with a parasite, can you? You wound me."

"Yes, many great apologies," his best friend drawled. Then he went back to work, scribbling onto parchment furiously. Casting his own warming charm— doing it purely out of spite— Draco took it as a warning that he should do the same. Without even glancing towards the book, he started writing his essay on the Smokescreen spell for DADA. When he noticed it, Blaise gave him a distasteful look.

"What? I remember lectures and apply it to the homework. You wish you were me," he sassed.

A snort.

But it didn't come from any of his friends.

Draco whips his head around, glaring at the Golden Idiots that wore identical looks of alert and shame when Draco saw them. He opened his mouth to say a nasty comment, but then he remembered that Weasley had found him at the bottom of the stairs, Potter had carried him to the Hospital Wing, and Granger had offered her notes for all the classes that they shared together. He couldn't exactly belittle them after they helped him.

However, before he could figure out what to say, Pansy was out of her chair and making her way over to them.

"It's rather annoying deal with stalkers." Her right hand rested on her hip. Potter, Weasley, and Granger looked livid. "We always prefer to 'talk, not stalk' so sit down at the very least."

"Merlin, Pans. Relax a bit, wouldn't you?" Theo drawled. Draco hadn't even noticed that his beanstalk of a friend was standing beside her. Draco jerked his head back to make sure that Blaise was beside him— he was— and stared stupidly at the scene that he could never predict the outcome of. "Don't scare them off before we can hear what they have to say."

With that, the Golden Idiots sat down at their table awkwardly. While Weasley pretended as though his hands were more interesting, Granger and Potter looked at everywhere except for Draco's direction. Which pretty much meant that they were spying due to his petty, blond ass. Draco sighed and dabbed his quill in the inkwell, continuing to formulate ideas for his monograph.

"Shouldn't you use the book?" Potter blurted, his eyes wide as he realized what he'd just asked.

Draco stopped writing, glancing up. He set his quill in the inkwell, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. "I have no need for the book, Potter. I recall most of the lectures from class." Draco said smoothly. He watched as Potter's face scrunched up.

"Smart, ignorant ferret," Weasley muttered from under his breath. "Of course studying is easy for him."

The insult and compliment is so unexpected, it made Draco laugh. His friends snicker as well.

"That's what I always say!" Blaise claimed. "Smart idiot doesn't even need his books. As long as he hears it, he'll remember it until the day he dies!"

"Ah yes, how idiotic of me to remain intelligent until my last breath," Draco managed to say. The ironic phrase isn't lost on him either. "It's reassuring to realize that my last words to you can be a NEWT level hex."

All of their faces darken at that— even Potter and Granger, who had not been reacting much to their bout of infectious laughter. "Malfoy, you shouldn't joke about that—"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. I've heard from Pansy and Theo." Then he sighed and pursed his lips. "So, cutting right back to thick of things, what forced the Golden Boy, Weasley, and Granger to decide they needed to grace us with their presence?"

"We—"

"Harry needs your help."

Draco straightened his back, his head tilting to the side. "With? He isn't failing Potions horribly enough for Professor Snape to need me to tutor him. He still hasn’t recovered from that lecture we’d just had— Umbridge is far too harsh for her reputation’s good— and I can’t exactly provide any insights for him as we are on opposite Quidditch teams. Shall I continue with the list?"

"No, uh... Black!" Granger exclaimed.

"Excuse me?"

"One of Harry’s only living family members is a Black," she continued, her voice much more tamer than it was milliseconds ago. "As you are one of the descendants from the same line, Harry is wondering about what to get them for their birthday."

“Why are we talking as though I’m not here?"

Draco ignored him.

"Oh really? Well, I suppose it would depend on which branch of the Black family this relative of yours came from. For example, if he descended from the Sirius line, they would most likely enjoy cursed objects that would work in their favor. If he was born of the Cygnus line, them would most likely prefer if you handed them a jar of Muggle blood."

Draco knew all of his family members by heart. From both the Malfoy line and the Black line, he knew who each person was and what their personalities were like. As consequence, he also knew those who were remaining and the only one who had the slightest chance of being related to Potter— Sirius Orion Black.

Rumored friend of the late James Potter and Lily Potter, he’d been accused of their murders alongside of Wormtail who’d managed to get into the Dark Lord’s good graces, but even Draco knew that he was far too rebellious to fall in line with the Dark Lord. He’d also been thrown into Azkaban and used to be in a scandalous affair with a werewolf that Draco knew to be ex-Professor Lupin during his Hogwarts years.

But he’s not about to make it easy for Potter. Not if Golden Boy needed his help.

"What name does he go by?" Draco asked innocently, pretending as though he’s clueless.

"Padfoot," Potter replied without hesitation.

Padfoot. Pad foot. ‘Pad’ originates 1590s Britain that meant soft cushion or reliability; ‘foot’, originates from Proto-Indo-European dialect meaning a corresponding part of the vertebrae of the animal, usually used when referring to humans, tables, or dogs. Sirius Black was a reliable friend who had the animagus form of a dog. Most likely a black dog to symbolize how misinterpreted and misunderstood he is.

It was only slightly surprising that Sirius Black had been an animagus.

After all, his mother had mentioned before how her cousin was brilliant and courageous, yet arrogant and stubborn at the same time. People like that... if they set their mind to it... no matter how difficult or insane their objective is, they will complete it.

"I see," Draco said simply. He left his quill in the inkwell. "I’m afraid I don’t know any family member with that name. Perhaps you have the last name incorrect, Potter."

"No— er—" Potter stuttered, glancing towards Granger and Weasley for help.

"Though I believe a cousin of my mother’s used to go by such a nickname. Grandmother Walburga used to wail about what a dog he’d been before he ran away from home. Mother hasn’t mentioned him in quite a while."

"Draco," Blaise suddenly spoke up. Draco broke away from his trance to look at his friend. "May I borrow your inkwell?"

Draco sighed as he passed him it. Then he turned back at the Idiot Duo Plus Granger. "Sirius apparently fancied muggle inventions and the like. I doubt you’re referring to him however. He’s an ex-convict, Potter. Anyways, if that’s all you needed from me…"

Judging by how quickly Potter’s eyes darted towards a pleased looking Granger, that hadn’t been their real intention in the first place.

Draco wasn’t going to strain to learn their motive though.

Bringing the slightly cooler cup to his lips again, Draco sipped some milk in a pleasant manner.

"Fine!" Potter suddenly exploded. "We were worried, alright? Are you happy now?"

Leaning forwards, Draco narrowed his eyes. "Worried? What of?"

"And we want to help," Granger said.

Draco frowned, not exactly understanding what they're referring to.

"Draco," Pansy called quietly. Draco tore his eyes away and stared at his best friend who was giving him a guilty look. His blood ran cold.

"No," Draco hissed.

Nodding slowly, Pansy looked away from him. "Yes."

She told them. She told Potter and Weasley and Granger. She told them, Draco's family's soon-to-be enemies, about Draco's weakness and—

"I can't believe you!" he snapped harshly. "You told them? You knew how much I hate people knowing— you knew how much I didn't even want you to know, and you still told them ? I trusted you, and—"

He cut himself off abruptly, coldness washing over his features as he packed his belongings.

He didn't want a friend who couldn't respect his boundaries.

"Well it was either breaking your trust or watching you die! Forgive me if I cared more about your existence than your feelings!" Pansy snapped. "And I know you wanted to keep this a secret, but more people can help—"

"Exactly! It was a secret, my secret!"

"Draco, listen."

No. They aren't on first name basis anymore.

"Parkinson, you should listen for once. Don't tell me about how you're doing this all for my own good. We both know it was hopeless from the beginning. Nothing's any good. And you breaking my trust? Isn't once enough, Parkinson? I didn't need you to break it then, and—" Draco grit his teeth, pulling his bag over his shoulder as he watched Pansy's fallen expression. She obviously thought that Draco would forgive her again if she tried to reason with him, but Draco wasn't going to have any of it. He scowled as meanly as he could in her general direction.

"I don't need you now."

He turned on his heels and left.

Chapter Text

Draco made it back to his room in record time. He threw his bag towards the bookshelf, only to cringe and pick it up. He pulled his tie off quickly, ready to throw himself onto the bed and cry onto his pillow until he passed out from exhaustion. And he was just about to do that when, unexpectedly, the door swung open. Draco instantly whipped his head around, ready to snap at Pansy if she ran after him.

"That was rather harsh."

Hell, it was Blaise.

The insufferable prick always followed him around when Draco's patience was running thin.

Draco made haste to unbutton his shirt. "Shut up, Blaise."

"Are you mad?"

"I'm not mad. I'm just upset."

"Of course, of course." Blaise hummed. "You know she just wanted to help out, right?"

"I told you to shut up."

"Yes, your Highness."

Draco's scowl deepened. "Fuck off."

Instead of doing as requested, Blaise plopped himself on Draco's bed. He hastily casted charms when Draco directed his glare to him. Then he floated his bag to sit alongside Draco's and patted the bed invitingly. "Come on, Draco. Sleep it off."

"No."

"Studying isn't going to make you feel better, you know?"

Just so he could prove him wrong— because he's petty like that— Draco sat at his desk and pulled out a Potions book after he pulled a shirt over his head, taking out an inkwell and quill. He directed all of his life's purpose in one direction: study with so much enthusiasm, he'll prove the bastard wrong.

"Yes, it will. Fuck off."

Blaise snorted. "Alright. Well, I'll just be going to sleep. Don't wake me up when it's time for dinner. Merlin knows you might just drag me to the Great Hall as punishment for annoying you."

Draco was going to do exactly those things.

"Fuck off, Blaise," Draco repeated with less malice. His mind was quickly forming a plan to get Blaise back for the crime he committed. As Blaise dozed off, Draco grabbed an empty parchment and began scratching down all of the information he was able to remember from the lecture this morning. Two hours later, his Tempus charm went off. He regained his footing and dragged Blaise to the Great Hall. He was pleased to hear Blaise's endless whining and complaining as they walked— Blaise being dragged against his own will of course; it served him right for being an annoying bastard.

"Merlin, please don't make me sit next to Theo," Blaise wailed. "He annoyed me with too many questions earlier and I'd rather not deal with him. He might have more. Annoying you isn't that big of a deal, right?"

Draco's eyes scanned the Slytherin, finding Pansy and Theo easily. He was so focused on making Blaise miserable, he didn't even realize that he was sitting beside Pansy, who he was still pissed off at, voluntarily. When he realized this, he looked at Blaise with a sense of betrayal, but even his Slytherin heart couldn't be pissed due to how brilliant that play was.

Still, he ignored her completely. The sting of of Pansy's betrayal was still raw.

But, to his utter surprise, she didn't try to engage in anything.

They were nearly done with their meal when Draco finally snapped.

"You don't have anything to say?" He felt a silencing charm around them fall in place. He narrowed his eyes at Theo.

"I made my choice," Pansy replied simply, dragging Draco's attention away from him. "And although you don't understand why I made it, I'm not going to apologize for it."

"Well, you were wrong," Draco snapped. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Well, I did. I'm not going to apologize for a choice I believe in."

"It's mighty stupid of you if you believe in telling my business."

"That's what you think."

"It's what I know." Draco huffed, running his fingers through his scalp.

"Well, pardon me if I want you alive!" Pansy snapped.

Draco grit his teeth.

"I know you do," he snapped back.

"Then why are you so pissed over it?"

He worried his bottom lip nervously, unsure of whether or not his voice was going to crack when he tried to say what he wanted to say next. "I already had you, Blaise, and Theo. I don't need anyone else."

Bloody hell, his voice cracked.

"Well, I'm sorry, Draco, but we're clearly incapable of finding a solution. It's been almost three months. Christmas is coming. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to hear that Narcissa's locked you away," Pansy said sadly. Her eyes softened for a brief moment before they hardened. "If a small blow to your ego is all that it takes, I'm going to make you take it, alright? And I'm not wrong for finding help elsewhere."

"No. You were wrong to go behind my back," Draco muttered.

"I know and it's my bad for that. But, I knew you would've said no."

"If you knew that, you shouldn't have said anything to them."

"What if it was me?"

Draco stopped. "What?"

"Pansy," Theo attempted to warn, but Pansy quickly shushed him.

"What it were me? What if you could have done something to help me?" Pansy asked defiantly. "What if you knew that you needed help from someone more intelligent than you because it could possibly help me? Wouldn't you do anything to save me?"

Draco swallowed thickly and looked away.

Yes.

Fuck, he'd be wrong to do it, but yes. He'd do exactly what Pansy did, but this wasn't about her.

"Doesn't mean it's not right. And it doesn't mean I'm not pissed either."

"Well, I'd rather have you pissed at me for the rest of your life than have to visit your grave for the rest of mine."

"... alright."

Just like that, whatever tension they had disappeared. It faded, like how the worried and tense facial expression slid off of Pansy's face. Like how Theo's wards lowered. And like how Draco's anger towards her dissolved. She didn't want to lose him; she'd tried to do what Draco would so easily do. Draco appreciated her stubbornness and her stupid attempts. Even if they were futile ones.

"They won't. They won't help," Draco said quietly. Pansy frowned, her hands that were once folded on her lap were now balled up in tight fists. When he caught the movement, Draco looked up at her and shook his head. "I know them. They won't help."

"You don't know that," Pansy said.

"This isn't a battle to be won, Pansy." The sharp inhale coming from her didn't escape Draco's knowledge. "And I do. Of course I know. We've been fighting and arguing since first year."

Blaise and Theo, however, agreed with Pansy. "You didn't even try to hear them properly, Draco."

"I don't need to. They wouldn't help me even if their pride and ego rested upon it." He was probably bruising his bottom lip with how harshly he was biting it. "They have no reason to, which is why I didn't need you to tell them about it. I don't want— I don't need someone to do it for me out of pity. You three... I know you want me around. For some reason, none of you have harbored any hateful feelings towards me. And I wouldn't ever ask you to lower yourself for someone else for my sake. Besides, Potter, Weasley, and Granger have no reason to help me. They don't care."

"They do," Blaise interrupted.

Draco sighed before amending his statement with: "They don't. They can't. Therefore, you wasted your time, breath, and dignity seeking assistance that will never come."

"You don't know that," Theo disagreed. "Maybe they will help. You know that Granger's good at finding information. Weasley and Potter have some contacts— I sure hope they do. Weasley's father is in the Ministry; Potter's the bloody Golden Boy. It'd be a waste of their reputations if neither used it to gain personal alliances."

Draco sighed. "I don't want any of them, Theo." He paused. "And don't look at me like that. I already said why. I've got all of you. I don't need any more."

"Oh, Draco."

"And, mother wouldn't hide me away. No matter how sick I get, I need to appear in public. And no matter how close I am, she wouldn't steal me away from my most-likely last year at Hogwarts. You're not going to lose me in a way that we can't be expecting now."

"Merlin, Draco, can you stop talking like you're about to die?" Blaise snapped. Unexpectedly, he fisted Draco's collar so hard the blond was forced to his feet. Draco's eyes widened for just a fraction, but then he relaxed in his friend's hold. Blaise became even more enraged by his reaction. He raised his fist.

As Draco shut his eyes tightly and braced himself for the pain, there were some indignant shouts echoing in the Great Hall.

"You really thought I would hit you."

"Maybe I just needed to blink," Draco replied.

Blaise scoffed and let go of Draco's collar. "I ought to hit you for lying to my face."

"You've done it before," Draco said with a smirk.

Blaise rolled his eyes, taking his seat again and picking up his fork. There were a string of murmurs that rang around them, but Draco refused to acknowledge them as he took his seat again.

"Now do you believe me?" Blaise challenged

"About?" Draco asked.

"They care."

He jerked his head towards a rapidly stalking over Idiot Duo Plus Granger, a sinking feeling settling down in Draco's chest.

Chapter Text

Potter reached their table first.

He stopped right behind Draco, who was staring at him with wide eyes that darted to Blaise before darting back to Potter. "What do you think you were doing, Blaise?"

"Finishing up my dinner, Harry. Why have you visited us today?"

Potter narrowed his eyes. "You were not just eating dinner—"

"Draco!" Granger interrupted, stopping right beside Potter. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Yeah, that wasn't cool, Blaise."

"Definitely wasn't," Granger and Potter said unanimously.

While Draco stared at all of them blankly, he decided that he was probably imagining everything that had just happened. He was probably suffering from the effects of a healing potion gone haywire.

"Say the same thing in my face again, Draco. I dare you," Blaise challenged, mimicking the movement of dropping a mike. He was obviously referring to the part of the conversation about how Draco knew people wouldn't care or worry about him. Draco rolled his eyes. "What? Did you just confirm my suspicions without words? I beg your pardon?"

"Then beg," Draco snarked. Then he took a deep breath and turned his attention to Potter, Weasley, and Granger. "He didn't actually hurt me if that's what you're concerned about."

"It's not what they came running about but—" Theo muttered under his breath before Draco kicked his shin under the table. He hissed and glared at the blond.

Potter exchanged a glance with Granger. Then he nodded once. "It wasn't. We thought you'd gotten into a fight with Pansy and Blaise."

"We are," Draco replied. "Pansy outed me, Blaise annoyed me— we're enemies right now."

" Pansy," Granger coughed, "didn't necessarily 'out' you. We'd learned of it through our means."

Draco turned towards Pansy with a little bit of shock. Why would she want him to be angry? Why would she mislead him?

"Please. Hermione, I caught you within five minutes," Pansy snapped, though it lacked any spite or hate. "If anything, you didn't use any of your personal means."

Draco blinked slowly. "What?"

"I borrowed your book first," Granger insisted. "I figured it out and had you confirm my suspicions."

"Of course you did. After all, why else would you bother me two days after our encounter and ask me what I was referring to when Draco and I shared a private conversation?"

Granger flushed. "I had to confirm my thoughts."

"Which must be why you came up to me again after that—"

"Wait." Draco pressed his fingers to his temple. He sighed (for nearly the fifth time that day). "So Granger stalked us, listened in on our conversations, and then proceeded to interrogate you until you told her?"

"Er, actually, it was all three of us," Weasley helped unhelpfully.

Draco grit his teeth. "Of course, the Idiot Duo has to tag along— Merlin's beard, aren't their behaviors striking anyone else as weird?"

"Not really," all of his friends replied in unison.

"Of course not."

Draco shook his head disbelievingly. Common decency and respect for privacy were obviously concepts Gryffindors didn't understand. Well... Draco thought of Percy Weasley— for a Weasley and a Gryffindor, the bloke was pretty alright (he'd been the one to introduce the blond to a loophole in the Restricted Section after all)— and decided that at least the three Gryffindors in front of him didn't understand them.

"We're fine, by the way," Blaise addressed. "Draco was being an idiot—" Draco hissed at that "— and he had a tough time listening to me. I didn't aim to maim and neither did he."

"That's good."

"I reckon you're saying that I would've been killed, Harry," Blaise drawled.

Now that his brain was catching up with the conversation, Draco felt as if they were all in on a big joke without him. "Are you all companions now?"

Theo threw something at him and, after Draco caught the flying apple with his left, smirked. "Honestly, you're slower than Vince and Greg."

"Very funny."

"We're friends, you ponce," Pansy interrupted before Draco could insult him. "All of us."

"And none of you thought to let me know." It was more of a statement than a question, but his friends responded with a quick nod anyways. "Lovely." He stood up from his seat, nodding in both general directions. "Pardon me then."

"Malfoy, wait—"

The corners of his lips quirking upwards, Draco raised a hand for consolation. "It's preparations for Astronomy... Harry."

Potter— 'Harry', Draco realized he know had to say now— stood gobsmacked.

"I missed many lectures. I need extra preparation," Draco informed. Pansy threw him another object, which Draco was disgusted to find was a biscuit.

"You need carbs, Draco."

"You won't make me gain weight so easily, Pansy," Draco chuckled. He chucked the biscuit back, slightly impressed when she didn't fumble with it. "See all of you then."

"Library?"

"Blaise, I'm still pissed at you. Don't follow me. I'm very close spelling 'ponce' over your forehead."

Hands up as if he'd been personally offended, Blaise backed down. Without another word, Draco stalked out of the Great Hall, whatever confusion and alarm he'd managed to successfully hide erupted like a broken spring.

Merlin's beard.

Friends. That's what Pansy, Blaise, Theo— Vince and Greg had been busy slacking off for the past few months so they obviously weren't in on this— and Idiot Duo Plus... Hermione were. It happened out of nowhere, emerged due to stalker-ish tendencies. And not a single one of them were bothered by it. They seem to have banded against common sense and common decency all for the sake of bothering Draco and—

Honestly, Draco doesn't know if it was a good thing or not.

Slytherins and Gryffindors being friends was certainly not unheard of. Just... rare.

Not only rare, but also ostracized.

It's not often that they graduate from Hogwarts with the same mindset and group of friends as before— perhaps due to being in completely different houses that cursed the other house.

Thus, perhaps his friends would stop associating with Harry's friends as they were groups on the opposite side of the spectrum. While Draco's friends were like poised yet unpredictable flowers, Harry's friends were like overly-blooming and boastful ones. Draco wasn't sure if it was a good thing to cross-pollinate them.

Merlin, no.

No, that would not be a good decision to make.

No matter the reason, having the most infamous Gryffindor and Slytherin enemies turn into 'friends' was a recipe for disaster. Draco could picture it now: Pansy and Hermione bonding over castrating some poor bloke's bollocks using a spell Hermione just managed to find in a book, Ron and Blaise exchanging wizard's chess ideas to take over the wizard's chess world, and Merlin, please no Harry and Theo bonding over ridiculing Draco's obviously regrettable life decisions. Perhaps Blaise and Theo would switch places some times. They'd take turns using House Common Rooms. Slytherin most of the time of course. Slytherins would be too prideful (and smart) to step into a lion's den. It didn't matter though.

Because where would Draco fit in this mess?

All of them would eventually buddy up; Draco would be left out of the group.

And, eventually, he'd be forgotten.

Draco didn't want to die forgotten.

He wanted to die with his best friends by his side. He wanted to die standing by their side.

If his friends and Harry's friends joined forces, Draco would fade alone.

A choked sob is suddenly wretched from his throat. He looked up suddenly, hoping to Merlin that nobody had heard. When he saw that there was not a single soul who'd snapped their heads up and stared at Draco with animosity, he let out a sigh of relief. Draco pulled out his Astronomy book, unsure of when or how he'd gotten to a seat in the library. He flipped to a random page, training his eye on the page he'd landed on.

But, he couldn't read properly.

His mind was still reeling from the thought that he'd die alone. That he'd die wondering where everyone went and what they were doing. That he'd die wondering if he'd ever been 'worth it' someone before.

Draco bit his bottom lip so harshly, he tasted copper and iron. He cursed lowly, tracing the cut with his thumb and wincing at the slight sting of it. He pursed his lips at the slight trail of blood. Then, unexpectedly, the chair across from him was pulled back.

"How far along are you?"

"Potter," he greeted awkwardly. Then he shook his head, correcting himself quickly. "Harry."

"You don't have to call me that if you aren't comfortable," Harry offered.

Draco let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank Merlin. I thought I was going to tip over the cliff of insanity."

Harry cracked a smile at that. "So how far along are you, Malfoy?"

His family name was spoken with so little malice Draco was startled to hear it. "I'm reading through the sections first."

Harry peered over at Draco's book with a slight frown, which Draco was convinced was proof of how zoned out he had been before Harry sat down. Which... Draco wasn't sure why Golden Boy had done the action. "Er... we're not that far along."

He blinked several times, looking at the book himself. Blood rushed to his head when he realized that he'd unconsciously thumbed to the page about the different types of constellations: specifically the western major constellations.

"I enjoy reading ahead," Draco replied defiantly. "I grew up learning lores about western constellations.

"My personal favorite is Leo. Gemini is the very close second of course," Draco rambled. "Apparently, in western civilization, your birth date dictates what horoscope— er... major constellation— you were and your character as a person. For example, people born within the dates of July 23 and August 22 are Leos. Therefore, according the lore that it, those people are usually passionate, humorous, and overall generous people, and they're usually self-confident in themselves and dominant over others. However, they're also stubborn and inflexible— sort of like Gryffindors but— oh and additionally, according to wizard lore of course, Leos were more inclined to using fire elemental magic, just like those born under Aries and Sagittarius. Salazar Slytherin himself had been a fire wielder, and he'd often defeated Godric Gryffindor whenever they dueled since Godric was inclined to using the earth—"

Draco cut himself off there, unsure of why he'd suddenly freaked out and blabbered like an idiot. Harry didn't even ask. He'd simply said one thing and Draco went off on another. Luckily, Harry had zoned out, which was a good thing in Draco's opinion.

"Apologies. That was rather odd of me," Draco coughed awkwardly.

Harry woke up from whatever daze he'd been in. "I didn't mind. It was really interesting to hear about my... horoscope? Is that what you said?"

Draco paled. "Your horoscope?"

"Yeah. My birthday's the 31st of July."

Bloody hell. Draco had just ranted to him about his own horoscope. As if Draco knew the bloke better than he knew himself. Merlin, Draco was going to lose his head.

"Oh," is all that he could manage.

"I guess I'd be everything you mentioned if you added 'oblivious and stupid' to the list," Harry chuckled. Draco unfroze himself. He didn't realize Harry was aware of his own character. And, guessing by how Harry laughed suddenly, Draco had said that out loud.

"Still. That probably wasn't what you were bothering me for," Draco muttered. Then he straightened his back, his eyes narrowing as he watched Harry curiously. "What are you doing here?"

Harry shrugged. "Lunch ended, and Hermione and Ron ditched me. I figured I should do something productive."

"Alas, the Golden Boy has chosen to willingly do homework."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

It was said so insincerely that Draco decided that Harry hadn't been annoyed by his random rant.

"Make me, Potter." Harry raised an eyebrow and gestured to the book, which Draco clearly needed to start reading. Draco sighed bitterly and picked the book up. "I wish I'd forgotten."

Harry snickered.

Chapter Text

"Absolutely not," Draco snapped for the fourth time that day. He scowled, stabbing his quill into the inkwell savagely. Blaise huffed and folded his arms over his chest.

After Harry had unexpectedly sat with him at the library, Draco’s been on guard for him and Hermione and Ron. He froze everytime they came near and scowled every time Pansy or Blaise had been steered away by a particularly interesting argument. Theo rarely left, but he often chatted about the Gryffindors anyways. Draco snapped at him once and stormed off, which must've been very confusing from his friend's perspective.

And one may call it unreasonable jealousy, but Draco merely did not want to even face the prospect of losing people he cared about. He already didn’t have many things now— a future, familial trust, and hope— but his friendship with Pansy, Blaise, and Theo (Vince and Greg too obviously... though Draco wouldn’t tell them anything since they are the epitome of the worst people to tell secrets) was the one thing that he was sure he still had.

And Draco, for as long as possible, would like to keep it that way. 

And if Harry, Ron, and Hermione have the slightest chance of threatening it, Draco would rather suffer a cruel death than live. 

"Why not? They already know. Might as well let them help too," Theo advised.

"Theo, you are a smart bloke and I respect your opinion, but kindly fuck off."

"Alright, but that isn't a reason for us."

Draco huffed angrily, a light puff of air escaping his pale lips as he did so. "I don't want them to."

"And why not?"

"I just don't want them to alright?” Draco hissed.

Pansy frowned. "Draco, just tell us why you don't want us to. If it's a legitimate reason, we'll drop it."

Draco grit his teeth. "It's bad enough that I had to shame my lineage by having this fictional Muggle curse. It's bad enough that I had to shame myself in front of you. After shaming my family and friends, must you ask me to be ashamed in front of my enemy?"

"Draco, we're friends," Pansy corrected quietly, her voice strangely soft. 

Draco laughed. "No, you're friends. I'm just that sick bastard all of you have to deal with. Besides, do you really think they'd want to help me? I cheered when they fell. I jeered when they didn't. I ridiculed them for their loyalty and blood. Pansy, I hated them. And they hated me. Enemies don't help each other."

Pansy sighed, seemingly debating with herself before opening her mouth to speak. "Draco, I don't think that they share your feelings of animosity anymore. When you were passed out for two weeks, all of us took shifts watching you."

"That's creepy. And violating," Draco said, utterly horrified by this bit of information. He didn't realize that he'd been completely at the mercy of three Gryffindors sporadically over two weeks.

"Oh hush, Draco. What I'm trying to say is: they care about you despite what bullshit you'd done to them. Alright, even Harry admitted that they gave as good as they got. And he's the one you waged war against back in first year," Pansy said. "You’re friends as well."

"Maybe they’re friends with me, but I not friends with them."

Draco knew that he was being utterly ridiculous— friendship was a two-way street. Harry, Ron, and Hermione couldn't be friends with him unless Draco allowed himself to be friends with them. Not that he didn't want to be of course. Ever since he was a adolescent, Draco wanted to be friends with Harry Potter and share the center of the spotlight. Instead, he'd been rejected and he transformed into a bitter child.

Thus, he wasn't about to let go of his grudge so easily.

"Plus... you said that you 'hated' them," Theo added.

"I know what I said, Theo."

"No." Theo shook his head. "Hate-d."

"Exactly," Blaise said. "You had hated them and they had hated you. Things changed, Draco. I mean, why else would Ron have helped you and not insulted you the moment—"

"Pity and to gain acknowledgement from professors."

"Okay, well what about Harry? He carried you to the Hospital Wing—"

"To humiliate me."

Blaise growled, a sound of obvious frustration. "What about Hermione then? Why would she ask you if you’d like to borrow her notes?"

Draco paused, really mulling it over.

If he was being honest, he didn't know the answer either. Hermione, in his opinion, altered in the worst way imaginable. Not that she'd changed as a person or anything. But... she'd become friendly in a way that even Draco knew that he didn’t deserve. Which was probably the most unsettling in his opinion. After all, he'd called her the 'm' word and had more often than not insulted her the most of the entire group. It was his own failure as a student that brought jealousy and loathing, and Draco didn't quite understand why she'd offered her own notes.

But, as his goal was to prove Blaise wrong, he bullshitted his answer. "To boast that she's more brilliant than I am."

"That's a load of crap," Blaise hissed, "and you know it."

"So is asking them for help," Draco shot back. He sighed. "Honestly, I would've thought you'd be smarter than this."

"Sure, we're not being smart," Pansy said. "Of course we're not. We're being stupid and reckless and utterly Gryffindor-like, but at least we're sticking to it. What exactly are you objecting? What are you afraid of, Draco?"

"Us abandoning you?" Blaise challenged, unknowingly hitting bullseye. He merely scoffed at the mere thought of it. When he noticed that Draco tensed, he sighed and draped an arm over Draco's neck. "Draco, we're not going to forget and leave you. We'd never abandon you."

"You don't know that."

"I do,” Blaise firmly stated. He narrowed his eyes when Draco ignored his statement. "Merlin, don't make me whip out my childhood trauma again. Once was painful enough."

Draco’s lips quirked upwards at that.

Blaise sighed. "Besides, you're the sarcastic bastard none of us can seem to hate. No one can replace you. We wouldn't want anyone to replace you."

When Draco didn't react, Theo asked, "Draco, remember that potion that I brewed for you a few weeks ago? It backfired, obviously, but with Hermione's help, I may be able to perfect it so you would never have to go through what happened again. And I know you might be thinking that I should just go to you, but I truly can't risk spilling it and ruining everything even more. I need Hermione's help."

"Not Ron's or Harry's obviously," Pansy humored.

"Merlin, they might accidentally put chopped ditany instead of crushed littany," Blaise snickered. Draco agreed.

"Anyways, I just wanted to let you know why we began talking with them in the fist place. Besides, we're only asking that you consider it, alright? We don't want to have to go behind your back and have to deal with your theatrics again."

"Shut up, Theo," Draco replied, though his heart warmed with the thought that they wanted to talk to him this time.

Then, hesitating like he always does, Draco turned his head away. He truly didn't want their help— every inch of his being was telling him that he can't— but this was his friends who were asking him. And Draco hated that they were asking him to do the one thing that he truly didn't want to agree to.

"I need time to think of it," he eventually decided on saying.

"Alright."

"Just consider it. That's all we want."

Blaise removed his arm from Draco's neck. "And know that you're not about to lose us so cool it with... what did you call them— oh right: 'the Idiot Duo Plus Granger'."

"Shut up, Blaise." Draco huffed and picked up his quill.

Blaise only laughed. "Don't forget that it's 'Hermione' now."

"Shut up. I won't."

Chapter Text

"Are you truly not telling us your decision before you leave?" Pansy whined, untangling the last knot from Draco's hair. Draco smiled sadly.

"No. I'll most likely send you an odd letter concerning it," Draco replied. He glanced around the Platform, wondering where his mother was. They— Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and himself— were one of the last people waiting. Although his friends didn't want to return home for the holidays, they hadn't wanted to leave Draco's side. Which, of course, meant that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were also standing a few feet away while chatting with Theo and Blaise. Draco nearly wanted to throw a fit when he realized why they were there, but he knew that it wouldn't change much. Draco sighed. "Perhaps Mother thought it was a different day."

Malfoys don't mistaken things.

"Perhaps she's busy," Pansy offers.

Malfoys aren't late.

"Perhaps."

Although there was evidence pointing otherwise, Draco knew that he had to wait a little bit longer. He had to keep his chin up with the dignity of the Malfoy heir and wait for his mother to arrive; he needed to be patient. It's not unlikely that she had gotten busy and lost track of time...

They waited for three more hours.

By then, everyone else except him and Pansy remained.

It was then that his mother appeared on the platform, looking nothing if not disheveled. Clad in black, Draco knew that she had a reason to be late; and he knew that he forgave too easily now. His life was too short to hold multiple grudges at the same time.

"Mother," he greeted quietly.

"Draco." Then she paused. "Pansy."

"Afternoon, Narcissa," Pansy said, curtsying.

"Apologies for my late arrival," his mother said. Now that she was closer, Draco was able to see how pale and skinny she was— her aristocratic high cheekbones appeared more hollow than graceful and her skin was a ghost white. Draco was almost afraid to ask why. "Are you ready?"

She didn't say 'to go home'.

She always said 'to go home'.

Why didn't she say 'to go home'?

Has she found out about the petals and decided to disown him?

"Yes," Draco found himself answering without hesitation.

He prayed to Merlin that she didn't find out.

"Very well," she said, extending an arm to side-Apparate them. Draco took it, smiling at Pansy. But his friend didn't miss how his smile was lopsided. "Would you like for me to reach your father for you, Pansy?"

"No need. I'm not going home this Christmas."

"Very well then."

Draco curtly nodded a silent goodbye— to which Pansy replied with a soft smile and wave— before his mother apparated them to the front gates of the Manor. Draco stared at his mother's side profile silently. He didn't know what was going on. They've never apparated to the front gates before; in the past years, they always apparated to the drawing room or the dining hall to greet his father there. But, he didn't have to remain in the dark for long.

His mother's grip on his hand tightened. Draco nearly lost all feeling in his left hand.

"We're hosting a guest, Draco," she said tightlippedly.

"I see."

Although Draco didn't quite know what was so important about this guest of theirs, Draco assumed that the guest must be in a much higher status than his father was within the Ministry. This was not the first time Draco went home with a guest awaiting him, but it was the first time that his mother appeared terrified of him coming in contact with this guest.

His mother schooled her facial expression when they reached the Manor's doors, waving a hand and stepping inside without a click of her soles. Draco stared at where she stepped, that uneasy feeling beginning to pool in the bottom of his gut. He took a deep breath and stepped onto the tile silently as well nonetheless. Years of slipping out of uncomfortable birthday celebrations granted him such a skill.

As the walked in, the first thing that Draco noticed about his house was that it was cold. It was bone-chilling and it was damp with a swirl of black magic that lingered in the air. The shadows of the Manor moved fervently, almost as if they were terrified in some manner. The decorations of the house was much more different than all the occurrences that Draco's mind could remember. Thus, no matter who or what his father was housing, Draco knew that if he did not act the way that the guest expected of him, he would never see Pansy or his friends ever again. So he fought the need to shiver and tilted his chin up.

"Good," his mother told him, squeezing his palm once before letting go of him.

Draco only had a single moment to feel bereft.

As his gaze fell upon a bald man dressed in nightmare robes with red slits and no nose and a large snake slithering by his side, Draco realized the reality behind his mother's pale and timid appearance.

Draco explicitly ordered Leia to take any and all letters he received to the dungeons and hide them all in a small corner that was hidden within the most unused cell. As always, Leia did not betray his orders.

For days on end, Draco did not lay a single finger on the letters that he received. He knew that Pansy would sooner or later start cursing him out; thus, he took extra safety precautions and hid in the safety of his bedsheets. And although he felt awfully lonely, he never dared to ask Leia to bring them all to him. He knew that he should never hint towards hope or love or adoration when a sociopathic murderer was living with him. 

The Dark Lord would try and succeed at destroying his only 'light at the end of the tunnel'.

Therefore, with every letter that Leia stole away, Draco grew more and more certain that it was the right thing to do.

On the tenth night of being either holed up in his room or eating meals stiffly in the dining halls as Death Eaters were tortured one by one for their lack of loyalty, Draco was ordered to stand before the Dark Lord in the dining room.

"Yes, Dark Lord?" Draco asked quietly with his head bowed. "You requested my presence?"

"Yesss," the red-eyed man hissed not unlike the serpent servant he had by his side. "Come here, Draco..."

Fighting off his body's natural response to shiver, he stepped closer, his soles barely making any noise as he stood about two feet away from the Dark Lord with his head still bowed.

"Look up," the Dark Lord hissed. Draco did as he was ordered, focusing on the family painting behind him instead of looking at him in the eye. The Dark Lord stepped closer until his body was close enough to be able to reach out and trace Draco's jawline with a cold finger. "Nagini. The Mark."

Draco flinched at the implication, an action that certainly did not go unnoticed. However, the Dark Lord seemed pleased by his reaction.

"Do you want thisss?"

"Yes, Dark Lord," Draco said, afraid yet unwavering. He had to. Even if he didn't want to, his mother and father stood behind him, their eyes practically begging him to say yes. Draco can't say anything else.

"Really? Legilimens."

Draco immediately felt a trickle of dark magic prick into his mind, and he allowed the Dark Lord to venture into his mind. However, before making way, Draco pushed as many thoughts as he could to mimic devotion and admiration, as well as a feeling of undying loyalty for the monster in front of him. The Dark Lord made a pleased sound, hissing at his serpent behind Draco's shoulder.

For a split moment, after the Dark Lord pulled away from Draco's mind, he wondered if he made the right choice. But then, he glanced at his mother and father, who were both obviously relieved, and remembered everything that they've ever done for him. He decided that he should repay them in some way, and if this method were to bond him with a monstrous murderer until he dies— Draco expected it to be a year or two— then so be it.

"Morsmorde," the Dark Lord hissed when Draco revealed his left arm. Almost immediately, the feeling of a thousand needles prickled his veins and Draco managed to quiet his screams so that they sounded nothing more than a mere whimper. The Dark Lord, having been impressed, relieved him for a moment. "Do you want thisss?"

"Yes," Draco uttered.

"You're ssstrong, Draco..." the Dark Lord taunted after the deed was complete.

Draco kept his head down, his mind racing with regret and fear.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Nagini..." The serpent handed the Dark Lord something and Draco was ordered to raise his head. When he was shown the black mask with white engravings that Draco just knew was going to belong to him, Draco bowed his head deeply.

"Thank you my Lord."

"Before I give thisss..." the Dark Lord paused. His thin lips transformed into a nasty, cruel smile. "I have a tasssk for you."

Draco bit back a whimper and thought of of his friends who were waiting for his return.

Draco woke up with the remnants of sparks of green and intense pain pricking his conscious mind.

Luckily, with the Silencing charms in place, none of his screams reached the ears of others within the Manor.

He gasped for air with the aftershocks left his body, choking on air until blood started to drip out of his mouth. Draco wiped at it, but it did nothing to stoop the steady stream of bloodied flowers and the such. The petals flowed out of his esophagus at rates faster than he could gather them and, although the blood stopped leaving his lips, the number of flowers didn't. It was as if the it'd made space for the petals to tumble out easier.

And Draco, once again, didn't really understand why he'd been so terrified.

He knew that he would be killed without hesitation if he did not do the task the Dark Lord asked of him, which was a problem in and of itself. And he knew that the aftershocks of the phantom feeling of the Mark was a given.

Thus, all Draco couldn’t comprehend was why the flashes of green kept catching him off-guard.

Was it the prospect of dying on someone else’s terms?

Was it the fear of losing more time with someone important to him?

Whatever the answer was, Draco couldn't think too hard about it. Two minutes into brooding, he made the mistake of glancing down to his left forearm and had been flung into another bloodied fit.

When all was done, Draco tiredly maneuvered himself to the bathroom and cleaned the blood that stained his silk pajamas. He ended it up throwing the pair away. Much like how he ended up throwing away his bedsheets and pillowcases. He cleaned the room to the best of his abilities, gathering the petals at such a slow rate he was almost afraid that his mother or someone would wander in and find him sitting on the cold tiles surrounded by bloodied flowers.

Luckily, no one did.

As he leaned his head against the bedpost, too shocked to move and too terrified to fall asleep, at three am in the morning, Draco couldn't help but wonder what was within the contents of the letters he'd sent away.

Chapter Text

Draco

By now, I would assume that you're getting settled in at the Manor. I hope you've decided to play a bit of piano. After all, we Slytherins are waiting for our grand pianist to return with yet another impressive collection of ballads. Perhaps you've taken up a new instrument now (Blaise is still furious over the violin recital several years ago— he's demanding that you quit it and let him be better than you at something for once). If so, I hope that it's the pungi. Simply imagine how many snakes we can summon and enchant, Draco. I find it an amazing concept: the entire Slytherin council carrying around a cobra of their own. Just think of the aesthetic!

Before I forget, I must ask: is the garden still as lovely as it had been when I visited last summer? Don't try to make a bouquet on your own. Please give my many appreciations to Narcissa. She'd allowed me to take home this succulent after all. Perhaps I could send a parcel to her so I could express my gratitude on my own. What do you think is better, Draco?

Now, going back to business, I must inform you of this hilarious incident. Apparently, Harry had gotten it in his head that he should study a bit more for Astrology. I hadn't seen it for himself until Hermione took me to the Gryffindor Towers (I know, I was horrified I'd wanted to go visit the lions' den.) So there he was, reading all on his own while flipping his galleon absentmindedly. And Hermione somehow convinced me that I should trick him into giving us information about the reason for his sudden interest. Apparently, he was supposed to be reviewing for DADA, which I hadn't quite understood, and Hermione just wanted to know why he was so suddenly intrigued in Astrology. She didn't get it either. Anyways, he didn't exactly fall into my trap. He'd just kept mumbling about western constellations and the like. Hermione herself had been confused, although she remembered a bit of the information he was mumbling.

And, here's the kicker, Harry suddenly jumped up and shouted, "Malfoy's named after a constellation!"

I kid you not! 

Poor bloke was so embarrassed he kept his head down for the rest of the night. Hermione was so shocked she sat down on the couch and muttered something along the lines of, "Merlin, no. Not again."

It's quite odd, I have to say. 

Personally, I think that Potter should be more concerned about Potions. Did you know that he's only got by because of Hermione? It's ridiculous, but I suppose that Professor Snape knew and thus took points off of him for it. Harry's a mess.

Anyways, I wish you were here.

And by that, I mean: next time, when I ask you to stay at Hogwarts, stay home!

The person signing this obviously has abandonment issues,

Pansy

Draco

Did you receive my letter? Although it's not uncommon, I don't believe that Elizabeth would have messed up your coordinates. My Burrowing Owl is very intelligent after all. Still, I suppose that nothing (except me) could be perfect so it would happen eventually. Anyways, you told me not to dwell on the past so I won't retell the story that I've written for the first letter. You'll have to ask me yourself when you get back to Hogwarts.

Speaking of stories, I've found another one to tell you. You know how Cassius (the one who's in love with Blaise) is in his last year? Apparently, he heard from someone that Blaise was bisexual. He's started following Blaise around a few hours ago and gifting him things again. Blaise has been blowing him off and I feel so bad for him, I'm considering to let him know that Blaise isn't quite so good at showing his interest. After all, the only one he's ever been slightly inclined towards was you.

I don't know why (you're an insufferable prat so I assume that you're rolling your eyes right now) but he does. From what he told me a few days ago, you snuck him into the Manor when you two were kids. He said that Celeste had thrown him out because he couldn't seem to do anything right by her standards. He said that he'd wandered around for about to weeks before he stumbled upon Malfoy grounds and you found him dirty, hungry, and half-delirious.

You apparently glanced at him, frowned too deep for a five-year-old, and dragged him inside. He said that you ordered house elves around so swiftly and with so much authority that it was like he was in the hallway one moment and in the bathtub the next. Even though he'd been completely overwhelmed, you stared him down and practically dared him to move from where the house elves were drying his hair. Then, you dragged him to the piano room without asking his name and forced him to sit still while you played the piano for a piano recital. When Celeste found him days later, you'd thrown a temper tantrum and ordered her to get out.

Personally, I was very amused by the story. After all, not many children could take one look at Blaise's mother and not gauge their eyes out. Me. I'm 'many children', in case you were wondering. I wanted to poke my eyes out after I met her for the first time. 'Wench' and 'bitch' does not do her any good. More like... more like torturous, pain-in-the-arse, neon-loving... well, one of those people who would be enormously improved with death. My eyes are supposed to feast upon beautiful sights, not yearly horrors.

I don't know how Blaise can turn out so differently from his mother. Thank Merlin for that.

Anyways, Blaise said that your reaction to her is why Celeste is still pissed at you.

... 

Yes, he was drunk.

And yes, he still hasn't accepted my apology, but I'm planning on drugging myself with veritaserum and embarrassing the hell out of myself so he'd feel better about it.

I wonder where I was going with this.

Anyways, I'm looking forward to receiving your reply. Please answer the following questions: Should I drug myself with veritaserum? Should I tell Cassius?  Should I enlist the help of Theo, who is much more used to Blaise's wrath than I am? Will you return to Hogwarts for Christmas? If so, do you mind if Harry, Hermione, and Ron join us? Or rather, if we join them in the Gryffindor Tower? (Slytherins are obviously still very suspicious of our relationship with them.) 

The person signing this will most likely be murdered by Blaise Zabini,

Pansy

Draco

Although Elizabeth is a piece of shit, I know that she wouldn't have misplaced your letters twice. What's going on with you? Are you sick? Are you dead busy? Just send me a little note okay? Just a simple 'I'm alive' would suffice. Alright?

Please owl me,

Pansy

Draco

Okay, now I'm really worried. It's not like you to ignore me. Did I do something wrong? Is something going on at the Manor? Do you want me to floo over? There hasn't been anything on the Prophet so I know for a fact that nothing's going on at home. I mean, nothing that's big enough to catch the Ministry's attention. Merlin, you didn't let anyone find out or anything, right? Well...

Judging by how you reacted to Harry, Hermione, and Ron finding out... it's highly unlikely. But still.

Owl me.

I'm worried.

I need to know if you're alright, Draco.

Please.

Pansy

Dear Draco Lucinda Malfoy,

Listen, Pansy's freaking out. She's pacing around and ranting ranting and shutting herself in her room and refusing to eat meals and coming out with her hair messy and tears trek down her cheeks at every hour and— and I'm worried. About you and about her. I know that you might still be upset with Pansy telling the Gryffindors about your dilemma, but... well, she had her reasons I suppose. I can't exactly tell you the reason why, but I can tell you that she cares a bit too much about you. It baffles me since your middle name is Lucinda.

Anyways, is everything alright? Should I send someone over? 

I bloody praying that you took one look at who this letter was addressed to and got pissed off enough to write me back.

Pansy'll be angry that you replied to me, of all people, but I think she'll forgive you when she knows you're alright.

Hope you'll also tell as to whether or not you'll be home for Christmas,

Theo

For Draco, the ponce

It's been about a week and a half since we last heard from you. It's unusual and...

Well, I suppose that I'll cut to the chase. Everything's a mess here, mate, and we're bloody freaking out about your supposedly innate ability to send a single word for a week: Pansy won't stop crying, Theo's gone terrifyingly silent, Vincent and Greg don't know what's going on (personally, I don't either), Harry's picking fights while trying to find the address to the Manor (we're not giving it as we know that you'll react horribly to him storming and nearly breaking your piano), Ron's helping him out for some reason, and Hermione's furiously attempting (and failing) to stop them from threatening every Slytherin.

Merlin.

Everything's a mess even though it's Christmas. It's bloody Christmas and all we're doing is worrying about you relentlessly.

Look. I know that you don't want us to. I get it. I truly do.

But, Draco, we need you here. We need your snarky stupidity and idiotic plans to get under Harry's skin. It's always been the highlight of everyone's day really. But you've been utterly quiet for days, not even a 'Merry Christmas' to anyone, and when I tried to firecall you, it was almost immediately declined to even go through. I don't even think that you received that stack of blank music sheets I sent as a prank. 

Merlin, now I'm working myself up. And I know you've never heard me say this before, but I'm bloody terrified.

What's going on?

My mind is literally going to the worst possible situations and I don't know what I'm going to do if you're gone. Please be alright. Send me an owl, alright? Please, Draco. I'm begging you.

Come on, you irritable ponce. Annoy me again. Write me about all the stupid pieces you've learned. Write me about those boring books you like for no goddamn reason. Write me about dumbass constellations that you're named after like you used to.

Please.

Anything will suffice, Draco. Anything at all.

Blaise

Malfoy

If this is a bloody joke to you, stop it.

The joke's over.

Everyone's all sad and worried and crying all time—

Merlin, do you know what it's like to deal with a crying Slytherin when you've only been friends for a month and a half?

I could barely figure out when or how they were feeling when things were fine. I mean, I didn't have to cheer them up, but I don't know how to deal with this. How the hell am I supposed to cheer them up when they don't hear a bloody thing from you?

I guess what I'm trying to say it: owl your friends and come back to Hogwarts.

Potter

Draco

The Express will bring everyone back to Hogwarts tomorrow. 

I hope you're well.

I'm going to kick your arse when you show up.

I don't know if you'll even be there.

Merlin, I hope you'll be there. You've been ignoring all of us and we've decided to interrogate you as a group. Be ready for that, Draco.

I hope you're doing alright. You better be alright.

I'll be waiting your arrival.

See you then,

Pansy

Chapter Text

Everyone stood on the Platform expectantly.

Pansy held her face high, much like how Theo and Blaise did, while Vince and Greg puffed up their chest in false bravado. Not even two feet away, Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood silently with matching stormy expressions. Their eyes skirted between watching their Slytherin friends and the tracks for the Hogwarts Express. When the familiar red and black outline of the train emerged in the distance, all of them watched with great trepidation for it to stop and for platinum blond hair and grey eyes.

Draco, despite their frantic messages, had never replied to their letters.

Not a single one.

And there had been no indication that he'd even received their Christmas gifts.

When Draco finally stepped out of the train, they all sighed in relief, only to stop breathing all together when they each took in his appearance.

With his head down and hair slightly messy, Draco was wearing a midnight tux and a pair of black shoes. In his slightly trembling hand, he clutched a small bag that was far too small for any gifts. He had a firm grip on his left forearm. His steps were timid— as if he was afraid of having a misstep or of making any noise— and his posture was far too rigid and tense for it to be considered natural. He didn't even acknowledge their presences. He simply stepped past other returning students, and as he drew closer, they were all able to notice that his right hand wasn't the only part of his body that was trembling.

The worry and anxiousness that they let go of earlier came back tenfold.

"Draco," Blaise called softly.

He flinched. Then he turned, his head still bowed.

"Morning," Draco muttered. 'What happened to 'good morning',' Pansy thought silently. She'd unknowingly compared his appearance, rigidness, and non-routine reaction to Narcissa Malfoy's from two weeks before.

"Did you receive the letters?" Pansy asked, pretending as though everything was fine.

"Leia took them away," Draco replied bluntly. "Couldn't read them."

Pansy frowned. "Alright. I hope you put good use to the gifts."

A slight twitch. "I didn't receive any gifts."

"Oh."

They stood around awkwardly. Draco kept his eyes trained on the floor, only a little bit of his rigidness leaving him as the train disappeared.

"...I'm tired," he finally murmured. Pansy compared him to his mother again. "Shall we return?"

"Yes. Of course."

They watched, bewildered by his words. Pansy stepped aside, allowing the blond to pass by quietly. He didn't give any other indication that he heard her voice except for a slight nod and making his way past. Nobody, not even the one who'd been with Draco the longest, knew what was going on. He was too different from the boy that they knew before Christmas break.

They followed behind him quietly, all of them creating wild theories concerning his oddness.

As they separated in the Great Hall, Pansy placed a hand on Draco's quietly. He was still shaking. She knew better than to assume that it was because of the cold weather. "Draco? Are you alright?"

"No."

She didn't know which was worse: the fact that he couldn't lie or the fact that he was trembling harder at the slight touch.

She removed her hand as if it’d been stung.

"Can we help?" Blaise asked slowly.

"No."

"Alright. Well, we're here for you," Theo offered.

Draco’s head bobbed up and down. 

"Do you want to turn in early? Theo and Blaise can bring something down..." Pansy offered.

"No."

"Very well then."

They didn't speak as the meal commenced. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo all knew that something was wrong and, although they were anxious, they knew that Draco would come to them when he was ready. They focused whole-heartedly on that.

Draco, on the other hand, just didn't know what to focus on. Over the course of two weeks, there were too many things that happened. He'd sworn to himself over and over again that he was protecting his friends by ignoring their letters. He'd believed that he would remain safe if he simply remained hidden in his bed chambers. He'd watched obediently as wizard after wizard after witch after witch get tortured or murdered for every meal of the goddamn day. He'd been branded and marked like lowly cattle. He'd been told that he needed to get rid of either Dumbledore or Harry within two years.

His father had told him that the Dark Lord was kind for giving him that amount of time. As if time was the problem with what the Dark Lord asked of him.

His mother had told him that he needn't worry because his godfather, Severus, would be there to aid him if he needed it. As if the problem was in numbers.

But Draco... he knew that he would do what he had to do if push came to shove. He would find a way in for the Death Eaters and he would kill Dumbledore.

However, he didn't want to.

He didn't want to do those things. He didn’t want to play a part in an oncoming war.

And will is truly the problem, isn't it? If one does not have the will nor the motivation to complete an action, it was common knowledge that the action would never be completed. And that was the bloody problem with him.

He found himself unwilling to kill Dumbledore. Killing Harry was out of the question. For some reason, he was fiercely against the idea of killing the brunet despite the fact that they've been enemies for the last five years. Although he'd decided that it was because he didn't want blood on his hands, Draco still couldn't figure out why he was less against the death of the Headmaster.

Draco shut his eyes tightly, wondering to himself if he even would be alive by the time that two year timer went off.

He wondered if his friends would forgive him if he didn't.

Draco pushed away his empty plate. He shivered, his eyes watering at the thought. All the Slytherins— those who'd noticed how odd he was being at least— watched as he stood and left the Great Hall, but they looked away before they caught sight of an alarmed Gryffindor chasing after him.

"Malfoy!" Harry called once he stepped out into the empty corridor. Draco stopped walking, but didn’t bother turning around. He wouldn’t admit it, but for some reason... just the sound of Harry's voice was enough to make him stop where he was. When Harry caught up, Draco turned away in fear that he would give himself away. "Are you alright?"

"I'm tired," Draco replied quietly. He forced himself to look up, hoping that catching sight of emerald, pickled toad eyes would fuel some sort of fire in him. Instead, Harry took a tentative step back when he saw Draco's face. "Is something the matter?"

"How many hours did you sleep last night?"

Draco paused. For the last seven days he'd hardly been sleeping at all. He had dozed off nearly a dozen times and, each time, would be jolted awake with flashes of green and terrible pain.

When he realized that Harry was waiting for him to answer, he dropped his eyes and confessed, "Not many."

He doesn't understand why he told Harry so easily. He was sentenced to kill the bloke, for Merlin's sake!

"You look like a dementor sucked the life out of you."

"Not exactly."

Harry hesitated, seemingly debating with himself for a moment or two. "Alright, well you're sucking the life out of me right now. Come on."

"I'm not coming with you."

Draco tried to sound disgusted or something— hoping that the familiarity of rivalry would make him feel something— but he knew that he just sounded tired. "Whatever, Malfoy. Follow me," Harry requested, unknowingly confirming Draco's suspicion.

Against his own will, Draco followed him out of the castle. After walking beside each other silently for a few minutes, Draco realized that they were heading towards the iced-over Great Lake. Harry sat underneath a large oak tree that was covered in a thick layer of snow, waving the area around them dry and warm, and Draco quietly took a seat beside him. The warmth of Harry's magic fighting against the winter snow and wing, Draco found himself drifting to unconsciousness.

He woke up with Harry half-passed out on his lap and Pansy's voice yelling at him several meters away.

"Is that Pansy?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes as his hands patted down the grass mindlessly. He sat up once he found his glasses and yawned. "What does she want?"

Draco shrugged, unsure of how to feel about sleeping with Harry.

As she drew closer, they both realized that their other friends were following her from behind.

Draco frowned and slowly stood up, walking towards them.

"Where have you been?" Pansy shouted. She pulled him into a tight hug, letting go seconds later and cupping his cheeks. Her hands were so warm Draco found himself closing his eyes. "Why are you out here?"

"Sleeping," Draco mumbled.

"Sleeping?!" Theo scowled. "You're not even using a jumper! You're going to get sick if you're out here without a jumper!"

"We've been worried sick! We looked everywhere for you!" Blaise added.

"Sorry," Draco replied. He took a step forward and nuzzled his face into Blaise's seemingly warm chest, yawning a bit as he did so. "Potter made me follow him. We ended up falling asleep."

"Yeah, no shit," Theo huffed. "We thought something happened to you."

"Sorry."

Blaise smiled and bent his knees a little bit. "Get on. We'll take you back to your room, alright? You can continue sleeping there. It's too cold out here."

Draco yawned again, mindlessly agreeing. "Okay."

They waited for Hermione and Ron to stop telling a sheepish Harry off before walking back to the castle. "I'm sorry," Harry said as they drew closer. "I wanted to know what was bothering him and we ended up falling asleep. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble."

"I appreciate your apology," Pansy said quietly, "but it's not okay. You should be more conscious."

"Understood."

"I never would've thought I'd see the day where Potter listens peacefully," Draco drawled before burying his face into Blaise's back.

Pansy smiled while Blaise and Theo tried to hide their snickers. Hermione and Ron had no problem with laughing out-loud at Harry's expense. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"I'd rather not," Draco replied. Then he hummed thoughtfully. "Pansy, earlier, you mentioned gifts...?"

Pansy's smile extended into a grin; her eyes snapped to Harry with wonder. She didn't understand how taking a nap outside with Harry could do a complete one-eighty for Draco's earlier, sulky attitude. Then she cleared her throat. "Christmas ones, obviously. However, you've said that you didn't receive any, which simply won't do. I declare that we should host a party next week."

Draco perked up.

"Party?"

"With piano music of course. It's only natural," Pansy stated. "It's been quite a while since you played during one of my parties, yes? Do you mind performing?"

"Of course not!"

Draco buzzed with excitement. His eyes lit up delightfully and Pansy exhaled a breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding it.

"That's be lovely. Thank you, Draco." Then she began addressing everyone else with their appropriate roles. "Hermione, I need your assistance for the planning. I need a witch with taste—" she sneered at Blaise— "and some people simply don't have a knack for such a thing. Golden Boy, I need you on decorations. Theo can help you with that. Ron, I need you on food. There is absolutely no way you'll let me down. And Blaise, you can arrange the musical track with Draco. I apologize for the inconvenience, Draco."

"Hey—"

"It's no trouble really," Draco replied.

"Don't make me drop you, Draco," Blaise hissed. Just to prove how much of an asshole he is, Blaise let go of Draco's thighs. Draco shrieked and latched onto Blaise's backside.

"Blaise!"

"Merlin, your scream is just as high as Pansy's. I think I'm becoming deaf," Blaise said casually, putting his hands over his ears. Draco twisted his nipple. "Motherfucker—"

Draco quickly hopped off and ran over Theo's side. He stuck out his tongue.

"You're awfully immature," Hermione commented.

"This is Draco's true nature, I'm afraid," Blaise sneered. "Petty and bastard-like."

"Hilariously so," Pansy added. She covered her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her giggle when Draco mockingly did a theatre bow.

"So he's like this all the time?" Ron asked.

"Of course not. If so, he'd be a Hufflepuff," Theo huffed. "Unsurprisingly, Draco has a thing for parties and pianos. Anytime he hears an opportunity to do either, he gets all childish and excited. Put them in the same sentence... well, he might as well be identified as a year-old puppy."

Draco's cheeks flushed. "That's not true!"

"Oh really? I suppose you wouldn't want to play the piano then."

"I want to!" Draco cried out indignantly.

"Alright then." After the spark in Draco's eye returned, Theo smirked smugly. "See? Childish and excited."

"It's because he's been so emotionally repressed, Draco is only capable to showing his emotions under very specific circumstances," Blaise stated blandly. Draco glared at that.

"Well, Blaise is a bastard because he's so mentally repressed!"

He and Blaise kept bickering as they made their way back with Theo in between of them to act as Draco's shield, unaware of how they'd left everyone else behind.

Although they didn't say it, Pansy knew that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were curious as to why Draco was a completely different person than they were used to. She knew that they'd never seen this side of the blond before and were, by default, dumbstruck by the sight of it.

"He's an odd one, isn't he?" Pansy asked casually. The three of them snapped their heads to her while she kept her eyes firmly on the fluffy clouds. "Draco, I mean. He's rather delicate, not that he'd appreciate me telling you so. He fusses with his hair for an hour in the morning and he sneers if any one of Slytherin's ties were tied incorrectly. He picks fights with people he can't win against, and he hides whenever he's afraid of the consequences. He whines all the time, and he tells us what to do and expects us to do it as if he's the bloody Queen of England. He doesn't need books to get good grades, and he doesn't want anyone to help him when he's sick— madly infuriating as you might imagine.

"It's probably because we spoil him too much. We always let him do what he wanted. But none of us truly understood why until this year. Yet, despite all of this, we all like to think that he hadn't been changed and that we were too young to realize that we should point it out. It doesn't mean that he's not an asshole at some times but... Draco's our childish, mentally repressed asshole." She turned to them. "I reckon it'll take a bit of time for you lot to get used to him being different, of course."

"Yeah," Harry replied stupidly, not quite taking his eyes off of Draco.

"It might take a lot of time for me," Ron admitted. "He's been a git for a lot of years."

"He's still a git. That hasn't changed," Pansy snickered. "But... he'll definitely be less hostile towards you now. He may even apologize soon. And once he realizes that you all want to help him instead of being threatened or forced to... he'll come around. He always did."

"How do you know that?" Hermione asked quietly.

Pansy's smile turned rueful. "Let's just say that we were awful to each other. Yet, within days, we were attached to the hip. Same deal with Theo, Vince, and Greg. Blaise, on the other hand... I believe that he's the only one that didn't get into a fight with Draco back then. It's rather hilarious how you can become friends just as easily as you could become enemies."

"I see."

"Anyways, I'm thinking of having this party as a small get together. No gifts are needed obviously. We already exchanged those on Christmas. And, if you'd like, you may invite some more of your friends."

"Even Luna?" Harry blurted.

"Lovegood? The Ravenclaw?" Pansy asked, surprised.

"She's a good person, I promise."

Pansy laughed at that. "That wasn't my concern, Harry. I mean, you do realize that she and Draco are related right? Second cousin fourth removed I believe. Of course she'll be invited! I just didn't realize you were acquainted."

"Related?"

"And a bit close. Draco enjoys indulging in her fantasies whenever she pops up in the Common Room."

"Oh."

"Anyways, do you fancy a trip to the library? You two can complete your homework last-minutely while Hermione and I can begin planning the party," Pansy offered. Harry and Ron flushed.

"That would be for the best," Hermione agreed.

Chapter Text

"Hey!" Pansy exclaimed as three overwhelmed-looking Gryffindors stepped into of the Common Room. She pushed passed a crowd of Ravenclaws to reach them. "Glad you three could make it."

"We wouldn't have missed it," Hermione assured.

"I need all the butterbeer I can get," Ron added shamelessly. Hermione shot him a disapproving glance, but Pansy perked up before she could get mad at him.

"You've definitely come to the right place then. After all, the moment I saw butterbeer on your list of necessities, I decided to order two extra barrels dor it. Drink until your heart's content, Ron," Pansy advised with a soft laugh. Ron’s eyes were wide in disbelief. She decided to do him a favor and let him know just how serious she was being. "They're the blue cups by the way. If you want something more powerful, take the red. If firewhiskey's not enough, take the purple cup. Those guys are filled with the Parkinson special recipe for the worst kind of hangover. If you're a masochist, drink that too."

"Pansy, we're underaged," Hermione reminded disapprovingly.

Her Slytherin counterpart winked. "And?"

Ron huffed, the relieved noise music to the party enthusiast's ears. "Merlin, I've never been so grateful to have somebody like you around."

"You're very welcome," Pansy replied lightheartedly. Then she cleared her throat all official-like. "Anyways, everyone's just beginning to arrive. Just a heads up: Blaise, ever the annoying socialite he is, will probably introduce you to a whole bunch of students both older and younger than you. If you'd like for him to ignore you completely, feel free to stick next to Theo and watch his anti-Blaise kick in—"

"Hey!" Theo shouted across the room. "I can hear you!"

Pansy ignored him. "Poor bloke. He's just a bit slow for Potions and Blaise bullies him relentlessly for it. Anyways, I can guarantee you this: Blaise'll think that you're absolutely mad for hanging out with a scatterbrain like Theo."

"Where's Draco?" Hermione asked politely.

"Either fussing with his hair or bouncing off the walls out of pure excitement," Pansy responded. "And he crawls out of his dorm, and after everyone else arrives of course, we'll eat the delicacies Ron suggested, dance to Draco's ballads, and play a few games. And, as per request by one Hermione Granger, they are all sadly PG-rated. An absolute downer by the way," Pansy huffed. "What's a good party without a good round of strip poker?"

Harry choked on thin air. "Strip poker? What's that?"

Pansy sighed dreamily. "The only game Draco can both lose and win at."

While Harry sputtered some more, Ron piped up. "Blaise lets him do that? I thought he would've rather poke his own eyes out than let someone openly ogle Draco. He is somewhat overprotective after all."

Smiling, she tilted her head to the side. "Why would you think that? Not the over-protective part of course. That's old news. The thought that you think Blaise has any control over what Draco does is hilarious."

"I thought they were dating," Ron said, nose scrunching up. "Pretty sure they were. I mean, if they aren't, I was just pointing out how they act like they are. Not trying to offend them."

Pansy blinked once. Then twice. Then bursted out into loud laughter. She laughed until she cried. She clutched her sides and begged Ron for mercy.

"You think they're dating?" she shrieked in-between her bouts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at her as if she'd grown two heads. "Merlin, Blaise is on the brink of accepting Cassius's unending number of proposals and you think that he's dating Draco? Merlin's bollocks, thanks Ron. I really needed that."

"Er... so they aren't?"

"Take one look at Draco. Take one at Blaise. You really think they would settle for each other?"

"Pansy, that doesn't make sense," Hermione pointed out. "They're both fairly good looking blokes."

"'Fairly good looking'? Hermione, those idiots are 'drop-dead gorgeous'. They're the kind of bloked men are lucky to have around because, if otherwise, they wouldn't have a chance with scoring any ladies. All the men in the world are lucky that Draco and Blaise are utterly craptastic assholes. If they had a nice personality, it would be over for more than half of the wizarding populations. Witches and wizards would be falling all over them left and right and at a much faster rate than they do for Harry— not that you aren't decent-looking... just not my type, I suppose. No offense."

"None taken."

"Anyways, I was trying to say that they wouldn't settle for each other because they'd look too good together," Pansy said, scoffing a bit after her statement. "They'd be on the cover page of the Prophet, Quibbler, and all news sources every day. While Draco practically bathes in whatever attention he gets, Blaise would strangle him alive in order to avoid unnecessary publicity that doesn't promote either his family's business or his profitable knack for design. Besides, neither think of each other in that way. You already know why for Draco, but if you don't believe me about Blaise, you can ask Theo. The poor bloke had to listen to him whine about how cruel Celeste is for not letting him marry Cassius."

"I thought you said he was going to accept?"

"He is. He's rather fond of the loud brute," Pansy said. "I don't know why, but he does. Celeste, on the other hand, wants him to marry rich. Well, richer than Cassius. An absolute wench that woman is." She shuddered at that. "Anyways, make yourself a bit at home. Feel free to start a good round of strip poker."

"Pansy!" Hermione hissed.

Pansy winked. "Or simply strip. Money or no money involved, people will stop and admire a gorgeous body."

"Pansy!" Hermione hissed more sharply.

Giggling, she left them alone and made her way over to their other guests, smiling and chatting them up before sliding to Theo's side. The lanky Slytherin looked down at her in surprise, but handed her a blue cup anyways. "Party pooper."

"Apologies for caring about whether or not you'll hex me tomorrow morning."

"Very funny," Pansy drawled. She set the cup down after downing its contents. "Did you know that Ron thinks Blaise and Draco are dating?"

"He may have mentioned once or twice," Theo replied. "I remember being so shocked I blanked out and laughed for fifteen minutes."

"And you didn't tell me?" Pansy gasped.

"Wasn't sure how you'd react. You did have a crush on him until fourth year."

She hummed. "Which was rather convenient for you."

"You can think what you'd like," Theo drawled lazily. Not having Pansy's attention on him meant that most of his secrets had no been found exposed by the Slytherin, and he'd like to keep it that way. He jerked his head to the left when he noticed that Draco had stepped in, patting down his dark green robes and wearing a soft, yet excited smile. Blaise was not far behind him, wearing the Zabini crest over his heart on his similar clothing. They, as always, looked dashing.

"Our celebrities have arrived." And, not unexpectedly, the giggles and whispers heightened as Blaise pulled down his right sleeve and Draco ran his fingers through his hair. "What gits," Theo cursed in a hush, shaking his head in disbelief. "Handsome, but gits."

"Don't be jealous, Theo." Pansy patted his shoulder in comforting manner. She bit her tongue in an attempt to resist the urge to tell him that he was quite handsome as well. "They're both gay as hell."

When a girl nearby openly drooled, Theo raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, witches enjoy entertaining the idea of a forbidden fruit."

Pansy giggled. "I'll make sure to tell them to tone down their sex appeal."

As Theo scoffed and turned his head, she sauntered away and waved Draco and Blaise over. Several people stared at her with envy, but Pansy didn't care when Draco's eyes lit up as they fell upon the classical grand piano behind her. She didn't care when Blaise's eyes narrowed with obvious disgust either.

"Is it dusted? Tuned?" Draco asked excitedly. "How about—"

"Well, hello to you too, Draco," Pansy huffed. When Draco rubbed the back of his nape and sheepishly greeted her, she waved him off. Just to punish him for his lack of manners, Pansy waited several moments before saying, "Yes, it's dusted. Yes, it’s been tuned. Yes, the legs are enchanted to rise if you chose to stand. And yes, you can tap your wand twice against it and it transfigures into an instrument of your desire. You were incredibly specific with your demands, Draco."

"Sorry," he let out an awkward laugh. He continued staring and drooling over the instrument though. Blaise put a hand on his shoulder.

"Go on, Draco. I bet you're simply dying to show off," he encouraged. Then, he added as an afterthought, "You git."

Draco rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue, but turned and did just that. Within a matter of seconds, he seated himself, straightened his posture elegantly, and allowed his fingers to begin gliding over the piano keys. Music both light and mystical began to pour into the Slytherin Common Room, captivating those already inside and those who just arrived. Blaise turned to Pansy, hands placed inside his pockets casually. His eyes disapprovingly swept over Pansy’s body twice over.

"I can't believe you. Of all materials to use, you decide to wear hemp. It's as though all the fashion tips I've given to you have gone to waste. Hemp was the one thing I told you not to use, and what did you do? You used it."

Pansy smirked, gripping her jacket smugly. "I look hot."

"Let's see how you feel about it after a hour and a half. Couldn't you have worn silk like Draco and I did? And what happened to that dress I designed for you?"

"Relax, would you? I can't exactly wear the same one for every party," Pansy pointed out. "And stop being such a kicked niffler. Don't you have some contacts to exchange and manipulate?"

Blaise huffed. "You say that as if it's a bad thing, Pans."

"Not bad per say, but rather depressing. You're giving all of these young ladies and blokes hope when you've already settled for one."

"Shut up," he hissed. Pansy laughed.

"Draco had invited him by the way. Downright insisted, if I recall correctly."

Blaise cursed, hurriedly slipping to one of the secluded corners of the Common Room and conjuring a mirror to check himself twice over. He raised his chin, took in a deep breath, then flashed a business-like grin to one of the women who'd 'just happened' to wander over to him. Not even ten minutes into introducing his familial clients to one another, Blaise noticed hurried movement in his peripheral vision. Almost instantly, he was hooked.

He excused himself politely and stepped past the crowd to follow Harry, who was clamoring up the stairs leading to the docks at such a feverish pace Blaise would have been worried if not for the fact that nobody present would insult the poor boy. Well... Draco would. But he's busy playing the piano— or not. The seat that he'd occupied was empty, and the music had kept playing without a single hitch.

Blaise felt the immense need to scream.

Getting into a fight with Harry wasn't entirely unexpected for the blond, but Blaise knew all too well of how heightened both of their emotions get when the other is involved. He just prayed to Merlin that neither had fired any spells before leaving the party. Pansy and Hermione would kill them both so slowly and so torturously for ruining all of their hard work, and Blaise truly did not want to be there when two dead bodies were uncovered.

So, clinging to that little shred of hope, Blaise grit his teeth instead of screaming, tightened his fists, and prepared himself to jump in-between of a fight between a pair of furious idiots.

He was surprised when he followed Harry out to the balcony and noticed that he wasn't following Draco. Actually, Harry was following two people Blaise was too far away to make out. When the two figures stopped walking and settled down on a Greek-themed marble bench. Harry casted a disillusion charm so quickly Blaise knew that he would've missed it lest he wasn't paying attention. Blaise followed his movements and stepped behind the same statue Harry hid behind.

"Blaise!" Harry half-whispered, half-yelled. He unconsciously shuffled aside and made additional room for Blaise behind the bush. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Blaise asked back instead of responding. He glanced towards the two figures Harry had been following— Draco and Hermione, Blaise realized now that he was closer and could make out their figures more clearly. Alright, so he was only partly correct with his original guess. "Why are you following them?"

"Nothing."

"You're bloody awful at lying, Harry," Blaise sighed in disappointment. Then an idea struck him. "I suppose you wouldn't want to tell me if you were in love with Hermione."

"What? Of course I'm not!"

"I know," Blaise waved him off with two words. He leaned over slightly. "It was just an 'if' statement, Harry. Don't get too riled up or else I'll think that I'm right. "

Harry's cheeks flushed as if he was pleasantly buzzed, but he didn't get the opportunity to retort before Hermione's voice cut him off.

Chapter Text

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Draco, too busy admiring how the moonlight reflected off of the Great Lake, didn't reply for a long time. When he knew that he had let the silence hang for much more than necessary, he forced himself to face Hermione. Resting his back against the marble porch, he muttered, "It was no problem. Astoria can come off as a bit intimidating. Especially when... well, when people she doesn't quite know or understand comes along."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry anyways. I saw how much you liked playing and had stepped out of my boundaries."

"I think it's safe to say that many boundaries has been crossed."

"Right. Well... would asking a question cross another one?"

Draco shook his head. "Go on. Ask away, Hermione."

Nodding slightly, she cleared her throat and asked, "How long have you played the piano? How do you know Muggle ballads?"

"I've practiced for nearly eleven years," Draco said, "and I know Muggle music because wizard taste for art and music has not yet reached the incredible standard of Muggle ones." Then, taking in a deep breath and loathing how much he knew that he wanted to do this, he closed his eyes. "Making conversation with you was not my intention when I saved you from Astoria's relentless questions."

"Oh?"

Her voice suggested that she'd already suspected it.

Draco nodded. "Pansy probably warned you already, but I wanted to be the one to tell you," he began slowly, struggling for the right words. He didn't want to offend her. Neither did he want to compliment her too much. After all, she was growing closer to Pansy— most likely due to how Pansy tended to associate herself with men instead of women like she always said she wished she was comfortable with— and if he says something slightly off...

"I know. It's fine," Hermione cut him off before he could continue.

"No. No, it's not fine." Draco hated how his voice cracked. "Excuse that. That did not happen."

Hermione laughed.

Draco cleared his throat, folding his hands elegantly. "What I meant to say is: it's not alright, Hermione. I know that you probably figured this out on your own, but... I'm dying. At most, I have a year left. And... well, I suppose I wanted to confess to someone that Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Vince, and Greg are all I have left. I know that and— and well, I don't know how to explain this. I obviously haven't thought this out myself."

"Draco—"

He cut her off before her voice could drip with any more pity. "Have you ever found yourself unwilling to save yourself because you can imagine the looks on their faces if you do? Because you know that they'll blame themselves? Because they'll sit quietly one day, hands over their eyes, and wonder what the hell they did wrong?" He took another deep breath. "They're all I have left, Hermione. And, one day, I woke up to see that I suddenly had three more people using their time and effort to try and prevent the unavoidable. I am going to die, but it is not my wish to push you, Ron and... Harry away. Not unless you truly want me to. And... well, because I am only used to having Pansy, Blaise, and Theo... it might take me a bit of time to wrap my mind around the fact that all three of you are friends with them."

"With you as well," Hermione reminded kindly.

Draco nodded his head slowly. "Yes, I've come to realize that. But, due to my unsightly personality, I've developed a bit of an over-dependence and over-protectiveness for those that surround me. There is no doubt that it will take me a bit of time to extend that sentiment to you. Especially since I seemingly woke up in an alternate universe."

"Oh. Pansy didn't tell you what happened during those two weeks?"

"The moment we stepped foot into the Slytherin Common Room, they refused to talk to me about it. I've been trying to piece together the pieces, but I've gotten nowhere so far."

"I would be happy to fill in those spaces for you," Hermione offered. Draco paused, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed her posture and facial expressions. She truly did seem to want to help, but that pleading look in her eyes told him that she was trying to steer him away from what he wanted to confess to her.

"Maybe later, Hermione. I have to tell you before I forget and begin to think rationally," he rejected politely.

"Listen, Draco, we'll be helping. Whether you want us to or not, we'll help you get out of this. You're not going to die."

She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself.

"You obviously aren't listening," he sighed bitterly. He pushed himself off of the porch and stood with his hands folded in front of his lower abdomen neatly. "I'm going to die, Hermione, and what I'm trying to say here is that, perhaps, because you will be around her, I could trust you with Pansy." He cringed at the wording of that sentence. "Apologies. I meant to ask that you would look out for her and make sure to tell her that she did everything she could. That I don't blame her. And that you would be able to fill the hole I've left unfilled in her life. I understand that it is unfair for me to ask this of you. I understand that it is rather cruel to say this to you, especially because of how I've wronged you over the last years.

"But... Pansy has done too much for me to ignore. I need to find a way to guarantee that she will be taken care of after I pass since I would not be able to do it myself. Yes, she snoops into other people’s businesses and yes, she's rather pushy and yes, she’s strong. I admit all of that with pride. However, she's not unbreakable. And, like me, she absolutely hates losing things. Whether she cared about it or not, she would be heartbroken and, therefore, I fear that losing me might do that to her. I'm not trying to boost my own ego, but I know that I mean enough to her to devastate her if she loses me. Honestly, I would feel the same way for her. The same deal goes with Theo and Blaise. Much like how you, Ron, and Harry would be hurt if you lost each other. Thus, I am willing to give you anything within my power. If you say you need knowledge, I will personally rewrite any and all knowledge within the Malfoy and Black vaults. I will do my best to guarantee what you want in exchange for your existence by Pansy’s side," Draco said. He raised his eyes to meet her brown, teary ones. "But, before I guarantee that, I need to clear this misunderstanding: I do not need your help for my sickness. I need your help in taking my seat as Pansy’s right-hand bastard. Or witch, if you will."

She let out a disbelieving scoff, yet choked on her own words. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks easily. "You shouldn't be telling me this. Giving up this easily isn't like you..."

"I know. But I needed to tell you on my own accord," Draco stated firmly. "I don't want Pansy to mislead you into 'saving' me. There is no saving the damned."

"That's not a sure thing. Don't be so pessimistic."

"Hermione, I don't know who it is," he whispered softly. Her eyes widened as she connected the dots. He sent her a small, tightlipped smile. "I don't know who they are. There are no cures. Surgery is out of the question. I refuse to live while being incapable of loving my friends." He cleared his throat and said in a louder tone, "Besides... regardless of when death claims me, it will happen. I've never heard of a person who avoided death."

Silent tears streamed quicker down her cheeks. "Oh Draco. I'm so sorry."

"I didn't tell you so you would blame yourself, you know," he laughed drily. "I told you so that if a life or death situation occurs, as in if Pansy goes to Hogsmeade with the intention of buying me chocolate frogs, you'll perhaps nudge her in the right direction. Two or three trunks of them should suffice."

She huffed at that. "That's not a life or death situation. Besides, I'm not sure that she'll listen to me."

"Trust me. She will. And on a more serious note... Hermione, I'm not going to make excuses for how much of a bastard I've been. I'm not going to promise that I won't still be a bastard. But, I will apologize and figure out a way to earn your forgiveness. And I will find a way to pay you in advance for your care for Pansy."

"You don't need to do that. We... well, Ron and I at least— Harry's been rather odd these last few weeks— are putting the past behind us. We had a long discussion."

"I bet you did." Draco nodded. "However, I want to. For all three of you."

He slowly stuck out his hand. Hermione took it unhesitatingly. "So will we."

Draco frowned. "For what?"

"For whatever you feel you need to do. And more," she added on a thoughtful note. "And I promise that I will not accept anything from you."

Dropping his hand, Draco huffed. "Damn Gryffindors and their chivalry. I bet you're also planning to outdo me in apologies and kind actions."

Throwing her head back, Hermione laughed through her tears.

"Where have you been?" Pansy demanded.

"Went out to the docks for a bit of fresh air," Draco replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Is everything alright? Is Cassius here?"

Pointing to the Slytherin mentioned, Pansy rolled her eyes. "Nice to know where your priorities lie, you bastard."

He winked. "I'm not sorry. Besides, I've finished casting the strongest Silencing charms known to wizard. I hope, with Cassius here, Blaise will put it to good use."

"Ooh... you naughty little minx," Pansy giggled. She jammed an elbow in Draco's side, which Draco had luckily been prepared for. "So it was your idea to dress Cassius up in clothes Blaise designed, huh? I'm surprised he hasn't started drooling yet."

"Perhaps, when he's done crawling out of his troll bridge, he will," Draco said. He glanced around and confirmed that Blaise was not near them. Then he eyed her cup of alcohol. "I thought Theo had handed you butterbeer?"

"Shh... what he doesn't know won't hurt him..."

Draco shrugged. "I suppose not."

"I knew I could count on you to understand. Blaise and Theo would be throwing a fit right now before demanding that I threw this cup out."

"They're only afraid of being hexed tomorrow morning."

"Are you not?"

"Pansy, I once saw you angry-crying and planning to castrate a Ravenclaw because of something that he did not even say to you. That will forever be the one and only time I am afraid of you."

"You shouldn't have stopped me..." she sniffed indignantly.

"If I didn't, who else will?" Draco chuckled. Then he cleared his throat. "Why were you so worried about me by the way? I wasn't off the piano for longer than a half hour."

"Yes, but... well, I noticed you'd been gone longer than it takes for you to piss," Pansy said. "Thought something might have happened."

"Don't be stupid, Pansy. I'm not about to keel over every five seconds."

"I know, but I tend to overthink."

"It's a habit that you've never quite gotten over."

"I see. That's definitely the reason why I overthought," she sarcastically remarked. "I didn't realize. Thank you for enlightening me, Draco."

Draco laughed. He weaved his fingers through his hair, eyes wandering around the Common Room curiously. "So... where's your beau anyways?"

Pansy flushed, her mouth moving but no words coming out. Draco reckoned that she was silently cursing him out for stating her blatant crush on Theo. "He's not my beau."

"Yet," he added playfully. Pansy's eyes widen.

"Not at all! He doesn't like me that way."

"Well, I can guarantee you that you will be dating in the near future," Draco stated proudly.

Her face fell. "Not by his own accord though. He'd never if it weren't for the fact that I'm a pureblood like him. He'd never be happy."

For a single moment, Draco imagined it for her. The life they'd have that he would never live to see.

They would marry extravagantly with beautiful pansies magically charmed to levitate and fly around. But then, because Theo hates attention like Blaise, they would move to a more secluded town or village of the Wizarding World. After countless of questions from Blaise, they would decide to have two children— both male because Pansy would simply will it to be so. Theo would choose the names as it was a tradition, but because Blaise would be incredibly successful overseas, the names would be absolutely atrocious and not fitting them at all. And, whenever their children returned from another successful year at Hogwarts, Pansy and Theo would gather everyone in the living room and sing songs until all of them collapse of exhaustion. For Christmas, those children would get showered with gifts from everyone— their parents, Blaise, Vince, Greg, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and any other stray idiots they picked up along the way— and their faces will light up with excitement as they rip those presents open. And even with so many joyful events, people will speculate that Theo tricked her into their marriage simply because Pansy was the complete opposite of him.

But it wouldn't matter.

Because they had each other.

Because they would be so happy together.

"And you say that I'm a pessimist," Draco teased. Pansy rolled her eyes, so oblivious to how her feelings were so obviously reciprocated. Maybe, Draco decided, he'd tell them off in his will. "It'll happen, Pansy. Mark my words."

"I'll mark them down as insensible."

Draco hummed in mock-acknowledgement and, now that they were nearby the piano-transfigured-violin, turned the beautiful violin before his body began to sway with a familiar melody. And, like he expected, Blaise tumbled out of whatever hole he crawled into and shot him a scandalized look. Draco smirked and conjured another one, tossing the violin over carelessly. His best friend rolled his eyes, but held it under his chin and began to play as well.

Minutes later, he slipped away while Blaise captivated their audience and grabbed Cassius by the arm. He thrust the violin into Cassius's hand and winked.

"You can thank me later with chocolate frogs," he informed.

Cassius blushed, taking the violin carefully and tucking it under his chin. With one last encouraging shove from Draco, Cassius wandered towards the middle of the Common Room, surprising Blaise.

Chapter Text

Three days after the party, Blaise quietly pulled him aside, told him of his new relationship with Cassius, and then asked if it was alright to extend their weekly matches to other people. Draco nodded quickly, his eyes still glittering with happiness at the news of his best friend taking what he so obviously wanted. The party plan had been a huge success (Cassius threw him a thumbs up a few minutes after Blaise told him) and Draco only wished that Pansy and Theo had followed Blaise and Cassius's example.

"The more people the better," Draco had insisted when Blaise re-asked him the same question. "However, I might not play this weekend. I need to review my notes and revise my essays."

"You're such a nerd, Draco," Blaise had sniffed, turning his nose up. "Choosing scrolls over Quidditch."

Draco had nearly never heard him sound so Blaise-like after being exposed two months ago.

He had shooed Blaise out of his personal space. "You'll manage a single game without me, Blaise."

And that was that.

When Saturday arrived, Draco seated himself on the bleachers and set up his studying station. As his friends began to file into the Quidditch Pitch, Draco was only slightly surprised to see Cassius, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walking alongside them. After all, there would be an uneven number of people if Draco counted the heads correctly. However, he also remembered that Quidditch was supposed to be played with more than three players on each team anyways. With the additional four players, there would be nine players on the Pitch, which would be the perfect game to have one golden snitch and one bludger on.

Saturday's game was going to be a lot more fun than when he, Pansy, and Blaise would team up against Theo, Greg, and Vince in a game of only bludging.

Thus, Draco was beginning to regret his decision.

"Are you really not going to join us?" Pansy hollered towards the bleachers as she settled down on her broom.

"If you catch the Snitch before Potter, I will!" Draco shouted back.

"Not a problem! He's not playing!"

He blinked, quite sure that he misheard her.

"He's not what—"

As if on cue, Harry popped up on the first row of the bleachers. Emerald met silver almost immediately, and Harry made his way over without a moment's hesitation. Draco's eyes widened the moment he began walking up the stairs, and he hurriedly fixed some of the loose parchments into a neat pile.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked lowly. "Mind if I join you?"

"If you must," Draco replied, keeping his eyes trained on his friends on the field. He watched with a slight smile as Cassius's well-aimed bludger was blocked by Ron. At the same time, his ears perked up and he kept glancing towards Harry, who sighed in relief.

"Thanks. I wanted to talk to you—" Draco jerked his head towards him— "about potions. Hermione's given up on explaining to me and Ron is just as bad as I am at it. I can't exactly ask anyone else to look over my paper."

"Because your annoying fans would fall over themselves trying to impress and please the Chosen One?" Draco asked. He winced at his own words and pursed his lips. "Apologies. I didn't mean it to come out like that."

"No, you're actually pretty accurate," Harry replied, a bitter tone obvious. He messed with his hair, making the locks look more disheveled up than it already was. He looked rather pained as he spoke his next words. "And also because you're better at Potions than Hermione is. I hate to admit it since she's my best friend and all, but she's right. You are good at Potions and Snape doesn't have to favor Slytherins to make that point."

Heat crept onto Draco's cheeks.

"I wouldn't say that he favored Slytherins..."

Harry shrugged. "Still doesn't change the fact that you're good at potions."

"So you approached me with the intention of tricking me into lending you a hand?"

"Not 'tricking' exactly, but yes. I need help in order to avoid failing Potions," Harry admitted. He looked rather pitiful— his eyes downcast with shame, his hair messed up with nervousness, his back crouched from exhaustion, and his voice not even biting. And although he hated the amount of additional work he'd have to do, Draco knew that he disliked this version of Potter even more. With that, he sighed. He waved his wand and magicked most of his scrolls back into his bag.

He pat his knees twice as if calling the attention of a puppy. "Alright. Get rid of that face though."

In a mere instant, Harry's entire demeanor changed. "Seriously?"

Draco frowned. "Unless you were only pulling my leg."

"No! No, I really do need help! Thank you!"

Harry appeared so pleased, Draco found himself smiling as well. "You can thank me with a trunk of chocolate frogs after you pass this term with an Outstanding," Draco said.

"I'll be alright with just an Acceptable—"

"Don't tell me you're up for it, Potter. I suppose even golden boys are sensitive over their imperfections," he drawled. Then Draco smirked triumphantly as that competitive glint in Potter's eyes appeared. It's been quite a while since Draco saw that glint— picking fights with Harry had become rather difficult after he and Blaise transformed into good friends.

"I'll do it," Harry snapped.

"Lovely."

Harry yanked some scrolls from his bag, huffing as he opened and closed them off at an inhumane speed. After several moments of that, he let out a soft 'aha'. Draco scooted closer, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear with one hand and taking the parchment with his other. He scanned the contents silently.

"Oh."

"Yeah?"

"Are you behind by two assignments?" Draco asked. "The Hair-Raising potion was due two days ago."

"What? No, it's not—"

"Pretty sure it was."

"Two days ago, we were brewing the potion," Harry insisted. "Why would the research be due then?"

Draco stopped and stared at him, unsure of whether Harry was pulling his leg or if he truly was an idiot. The sides of his lips curled into a small smirk that he quickly schooled.

"Potter, research is always due the day of the brewing. We do that so we have relative background knowledge for the potion before we brew it. It's standard to learn the concepts before doing the practical." Potter frowned, opening and closing his mouth several times. He looked back down at his parchment paper, his frown deepening. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Draco couldn't help himself anymore. He threw his head back and let out a loud cackle. "Potter, are you serious? We've had Severus for five years, Hermione is your best friend, and you still— you're not taking the piss, are you?"

"Professor McGonagall doesn't do that!" Harry said, which was totally not related to what they were discussing. "So why would Snape do it that way?"

Deaco laughed even harder, clutching his sides. "They're different people teaching different subjects! Of course, they don't teach the same way!" He couldn't believe that Harry was also stupid enough to put Professor McGonagall on the same pedestal as Severus. After all, it rather obvious that McGonagall was superior. If she whipped out her wand, people would be flying out of the way regardless of who they were. If Severus whipped out his wand, only those who knew the amount of spare ruined potions he kept on hand would stand aside. Draco, obviously, would duck regardless of whose wand was out.

He snickered. "Honestly, you're so slow on the uptake! How you managed to pass Potions for four years without turning in assignments on time is unimaginable! Didn't Severus ever remind you from time to time?"

"In case, you've forgotten, he hates me."

"Maybe it's because you don't turn in your assignments on time."

"Alright, shut up, Malfoy," Harry huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Draco let out one last cackle. "Fine. Take out an empty scroll, Potter. The research turns out to be better than I expected it would be, so we can start on your essay for now. You can turn both of them in on Monday."

"I don't know this! I can't write an essay on something I don't know."

"Yet, you have an adequate amount of research," Draco reminded. "Besides, you aren't entirely ridiculous in Potions. A bit slow and inexperienced, yes, but not Longbottom-bad."

"I'm not sure whether to defend Neville or to attack you for insulting me."

Draco rolled his eyes. "In case you didn't realize, it was a compliment, Potter."

Minutes later, Harry was jotting down ideas studiously and Draco resumed editing his own essay. He was just about done with revisions when Potter spoke up.

"I heard you and Hermione," he said casually, as if the spilled ink all over Draco's essay was a minor inconvenience. Draco, on the other hand, wanted to scream.

"Bloody hell," he hissed instead of doing just that. He casted a quick spell to get rid of the ink, but the smudge was permanent. He silently mourned the loss of his essay, propping it up so he could copy it onto another scroll. That was when his brain processed what Harry said. "You what?"

"I heard you and Hermione," Harry repeated slowly, "talking that day."

"Of the party...?"

"Yeah."

"Overheard or chose to eavesdropped?"

Harry looked away. "Was trying to find the bathroom."

"Alright then. So you overheard Hermione and I speaking whilst searching for the toilets. And?"

Harry stayed quiet for several moments. "You shouldn't talk like that."

"Like...?"

"Like you're about to die. Like you have no one else. Like you've given up," Harry said quietly. He dabbed his quill in the inkwell casually but his face gave him all away: Harry was trying to word his next words in a way that would not offend of hurt Draco. It was... unexpectedly appreciated. "Like you don't matter," Harry continued, his voice making the words sound final.

"I didn't say that," Draco retorted quietly. "I know that I matter."

Harry nodded. "And you didn't give up either, right? You do realize we still have time, right?"

"I'm not stupid," Draco replied instead of answering his questions.

"I know. But, whatever it is that you're thinking, you're wrong. I— we don't care about what you're thinking right now. We're not going to give up, Malfoy."

"I know that too. It's an effect you Gryffindors have on my friends."

"If thinking that way makes you Slytherins feel better about yourself..."

"Taking the chivalrous high ground, are we now?"

"Very funny, Malfoy," Harry snorted. Their essays now abandoned, they lounged lazily against the bleachers. "I'm serious though. Nobody has given up so you shouldn't either. And, yeah, nothing's come up yet, but if there's anything you and your friends can do... it'd be creating another potion or cure or something like that in order to increase your social statuses and number of vaults or whatever."

"Is that really what you think we're like? All shallow and everything?" Draco asked out of pure curiosity.

"Er... no, but..."

"So you're assuming that because some of us are from a rich and pure background, we're all shallow and only interested in our own social status and the amount of galleons we have in our vaults?"

"Er..."

"You do realize that we have more muggleborns and half-bloods than the other three houses," Draco deadpanned. He couldn't believe that Potter was oblivious to so many things. "They're the ones who are truly resourceful and cunning. Not to mention how most of the transfers from Ilvermorny are entirely traditional and ambitious."

"Actually, I didn't know that," Harry admitted. "Wait. But, didn't you call Hermione a... er, a..."

Draco nodded curtly. "Yes. I received a harsh reprimanding for that. Our muggleborn prefect made me apologize to Hermione."

"I didn't know that either. Your prefect and the apology, that is."

Draco shrugged. "As I was saying, our most resourceful members are muggleborns and half-bloods because they apparently think that they aren't as privileged as purebloods are. Which, by the way, I believe is utter nonsense. If anything, they're the ones with knowledge of a world that we aren't even allowed to think about joining. They have access and contacts on the other side. We don't."

"You're not missing much," Harry said hurriedly. "Almost everything is the same except for magic."

"I figured that much." He paused. "It would be nice to visit the muggle world before I die though."

"Malfoy."

"Apologies. I meant that it would be nice to visit the muggle world in general," Draco quickly amended. "In your opinion, is the wizarding world better than the muggle world? Just a question of curiosity, Potter."

"I can't say for sure. I don't have a lot of good experiences there," Harry admitted. Draco stopped himself from asking why.

"I see." He glanced towards their friends again, smiling softly as they all acted foolishly. They weren't even playing Quidditch at that point. They were just chasing each other around the pitch. He slowly closed his eyes and imagined their shocked faces if he suggested that they should see the muggle world later on. "We should make some then."

"You're inviting me?" Harry asked, surprised.

Draco rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to him. "I wouldn't have said 'we' if I didn't. Now get back to work, Potter. You can't slack off just yet; you've just started the essay."

Chapter Text

"Please take off your slippers," Draco said pleasantly, doing the same. He thanked Vicky, the house-elf in charge, when she took his coat. "Don't dirty the floors. The house-elves have worked plenty already."

His eight companions stood behind him covered in black goo from head to toe.

"Gee. We would love to if that menace of a gargoyle didn't spray us with nasty goo," Theo snapped.

"You know what Beauregard is like," Draco reminded, "and you're lucky he didn't make all of that burn your skin."

"It wasn't quite the welcome we were expecting from Paris,” Hermione retorted. She tried to pull some of the goo from her hair.

"We're not inside of Paris yet. This is the Malfoy safe-house in Le Havre, which is the outskirts of France.” 

"Outskirts?" Ron asked, his jaw dropping for the second time today.

The first time had been when he walked into this house, which Draco had been very proud to announce as 'his'. After all, everything was lightly decorated to give off a home-y and welcoming vibe. What Draco had been most pleased of, however, was the chandeliers that hung above them. It had taken him quite a bit of time to find the perfect one.

"Do you own the entire 'outskirt'?" Ron continued. "Draco, the gates of this house is a full ten kilometers from the doorstep!"

"On the way here, we stopped twice because we had mistook the greenhouses and the library for the house," Pansy added. "We might as well tour this place instead of France."

Draco sighed, wondering why he'd brought all of his friends again. Oh right.

Draco, after helping Harry out with his essay during their weekly Quidditch match, realized that his friends could use a break as well. He suggested, after Pansy, Blaise, and Theo kept arguing about how important it was that they focused on finding a cure, that perhaps the reason why they turned up empty was because they limited their options to the information that was in the Hogwarts library. It shut them up and made them reluctantly agree to come along. Ron had steadily agreed when Draco mentioned the fact that they would be allowed to skip all of their classes for a week. Then, of course, Hermione had first disagreed. But after Ron did his part, she was coaxed into it as well.

And, surprisingly, Harry had been the hardest to convince. Their short conversation had been so terrible, Draco still remembered it word for word.

"I can't," Harry had insisted after Draco spent many minutes trying. Draco, who had never been less interested in Potions than he was in that moment, gaped stupidly. He couldn't believe his words. Of course he could go. Why wouldn't he be able to go? And then Harry had continued. "Voldemort—" Draco did not flinch at the name— "is going to try to kill me again. Hogwarts is the safest place I know."

It had been ridiculous that he didn't consider his Muggle relatives more safe than Hogwarts. After all, Hogwarts was a magically living castle in Scotland. At any given time, Hogwarts could choose to swallow wizards and witches into the ground whole. The castle could come alive and settle into the Great Lake, trapping students inside for eternity. Plus, there were hundreds of more tactics to be killed by magic than by Muggle tactics.

And Draco hadn't understood why Hogwarts was the 'safest' until ink spilled nearby them, and Harry kneeled on the floor, conjuring a bucket of water and scrubbing it down like a Hogwarts house-elf.

"I have a safe-manor in France," Draco had hushedly whispered then. He'd casted a cleaning charm in his haste. "It had been given to me, and no wizard or witch have been successful in penetrating our wards in generations. It's impossible for the Dark Lord to be able to kill you there. Now you know a safer place."

Harry had stared at him for several long moments with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Okay," he'd said. And, for a reason that Draco had been too pissed to think too deeply about, the fact that Harry believed him— his ex-enemy for less than three months and friend for only a week— so easily pissed Draco off to no end.

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco snapped good-naturedly when he realized that Pansy was waiting for him to say something. "We're here to tour Muggle France, not the Le Havre safe-house."

"More like safe-manor," Blaise grumbled.

Draco rolled his eyes. It was then that Vicky popped up and announced that the baths were ready. Draco thanked her before walking up the flight of stairs and leading his friends into a long hallway. "Feel free to take residence in any one of the rooms. They will accommodate to your tastes almost immediately. Vicky had made sure that the baths were warmed so you may get cleaned up before dinner." Then he glanced towards a very awed Harry. "The house will, after two hours, recognize and distinguish your magical signatures. After four, it will coat you in their own magic, which will keep you hidden from any and all searching charms while keeping you immune from any sort of harm that may come your way within the gates. Not even the Killing Curse will work."

"Then why did the goo just slide off of you?" Hermione asked.

"I'd activated our magical bond," Draco responded with a shrug. His palm was no longer tingling from where he'd cut in order to prove his mastery over the house. "I'm the master of the Le Havre safe-house. The bond doesn't allow the house to hurt me. Much like how the bond that you will form would protect you."

"So basically, you put us up to this," Blaise accused. "You knew thise gargoyles would bloody spray us with this... this abomination of liquid"

Draco rolled his eyes, successfully hiding a smug smirk. "No. It's a voluntary reaction that the house had."

"I didn't know houses could do that," Harry admitted slowly. He continued glancing around the hallway curiously, his glasses nearly falling off before he pushed them up the bridge of his nose. "Are all wizarding houses like this?"

"Mine sure as hell isn't," Ron said. Narrowing his eyes somewhere past Draco, he frowned. "Blimey, I think that plant outside is eating a wizard!"

Draco turned. He was about to order the carnivorous plant to stop when Vicky handed him a list of names. He scanned the contents, frowning slightly. "Oh. No worries. That wizard can't hurt us either. He's from Azkaban."

"What?" Ron shouted.

Theo hummed pleasantly as he stepped closer to the window to admire the plant. "I thought that the Ministry stopped these practices years ago."

"Apparently Azkaban has gotten really crowded," Draco replied. He handed Theo the list. Then he turned back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "When Azkaban gets overcrowded, they send those who had committed the worst sorts of treason to their deaths. The Le Havre, luckily, has the smallest list of felons."

"So they just get eaten alive?" Harry asked, an edge was in his voice.

"Well, they're not exactly alive anyways," Theo stated. "Plus, they'd chosen this method of death. It's always consensual."

"But still. They're dying," Harry argued. "Who would be alright with dying like— like that? It's bloody, and painful, and—"

Draco sighed. "Look, Potter. Not many of us like it either. However, the decree had not been taken down. Criminals doomed to lifetimes in Azkaban prefer this. Carnivorous, dangerous creatures exist. Many of the owners of these creatures are still in service to the Ministry. They send a list, we check them off. There's nothing else we could do."

Theo handed the list back to him. "Can we take that bath now? Next thing we know, we'll be yelled at for 'dirtying the floors'," he grumbled angrily.

"Feel free," Draco replied. "Dinner should be ready in two hours, which is more than enough time for you to get some rest. I, on the other hand, will be in the study if you need me."

Harry cleared his throat. "And where's that?"

"Why do you want to know?" Blaise asked before Draco could give him directions.

Harry shrugged. "I don't want to bother the house-elves while they're making the food."

It was oddly considerate of him, Draco noted. The Gryffindor chivalry extends to house-elves apparently. He vaguely remembered his father talking his ear off about how Harry had been the reason why Dobby was free. Draco hadn't cared much— he'd actually become friends with Dobby while he was a house-elf and cared somewhat about his well-being.

"It's downstairs. The architrave is just a pair Corinthian columns. It's rather difficult to miss."

Harry nodded. "What is an architrave?"

Pansy sighed. "I'll just come along with you if you need help finding it, Harry."

"Alright."

"If there are no more questions, I'll leave you to your baths," Draco said. When there were indeed no more questions, Draco offered a tight-lipped smile. "See all of you in an hour then."

And then, not even fifteen minutes later, Harry popped up in his study. He had Pansy in tow, who let him know that she was going to try to find something for Draco in the library. Draco tossed her the keys, told her to never say the word 'filthy' inside it, and warned her that the library would take offense if she did and attempt to eat her alive.

"Libraries do that?" Harry asked once she left a bit shaken up. Draco hummed, returning back to his scrolls of classwork. "We don't have to talk now if you're busy. I don't mind coming back later on. Just wanted to let you know that I think something attacked Hermione. She screamed."

A flash of green. 'Hogwarts is the safest place I know.'

"Potter, sit," Draco sighed. He waved his wand, transfiguring his table to increase in size. He shoved all of his scrolls to the left side of the table and conjured another chair for Harry to sit in. "Whatever bothered her, there will be no injuries. She'll be perfectly fine, Potter. The house is just a bit bothered because it's been a while since a muggleborn stepped into the grounds. However, the house will not be hostile towards you, Hermione, or Ron. We're allies."

Harry's face contorted into a strange expression. "Right. Allies."

"And, since you're here, you might as well begin all of the classwork and homework assigned to you."

"Oh." His face reddened considerably.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten them," Draco deadpanned.

"No, they're in my room," Harry responded with a shake of a head. "I'll be right back."

True to his word, Harry returned two minutes after he left. He plopped himself down beside Draco and pulled out scrolls of his own. "Do you think you can help me with potions before I do anything else? I swear Snape hates me."

Draco looked over his shoulder and snickered. "That's Severus for you."

Harry glanced at him with a different strange expression. "You said his name again. You did it at the Pitch too."

"Well, of course. Mother refers to him as Severus," Draco responded. "Besides, he's my godfather. If I call him 'professor' while we're not in class, he'll get sensitive and think I hate him."

"Sensitive? Snape?"

"Yes." Harry started laughing. Draco hid a smirk behind his hand. "If you don't believe me, allow me to change your mind by telling you that Severus once claimed that I hated him because I asked him for candy. He thought that children who hated you would deliberately choose to annoy you by asking for something that you clearly didn't have. He also claimed that I mentally abused him into having a chocolate frog on hand at all times."

Harry howled with laughter. "Are you serious?"

"You should ask him for one when we get back," Draco suggested, "and see for yourself. If he hands you one, then you'll know that I wasn't lying."

"Wait, wouldn't he be pissed at you?"

"Well, then that would prove that he was also being sensitive."

Harry continued to laugh, the information probably music to his Gryffindor ears. Smirking, Draco turned his attention back to the task ahead of him, completely oblivious to the bushy-haired woman who'd— after being greeted in the bath by a misty-eyed Vicky— followed Harry to the study room.

Hermione stared in awe at the scene in the study: Draco at the most relaxed she's ever seen him and Harry laughing ridiculously hard by his side. There was something about them that inspired a rather interesting idea that she was definitely going to tell Pansy about once she gets back from the library.

Chapter Text

"I'm sorry, you want to what?" Pansy shrieked.

Hermione winced. "Here me out—"

"Have you gone mad? Do you think Harry would let you do that to him?" her Slytherin-counterpart fumed. "They've just gotten around to being friends! Harry didn't even bloody tell Draco about what happened in the Hospital Wing and you want him to do what? Risk their very new and— not to mention— shaky friendship? Hermione, our best friends had unhealthy obsessions with one another! This could backfire in so many different bloody ways!"

"Look, I know that this is very risky but—"

"Hermione, Draco will hate me!"

He wouldn't even put her out of her misery. He would just turn his nose up whenever she came near and sneer in her general direction until she bursted into tears and tried to apologize. And then, no matter how much she would argue or reason with him, Draco would never forgive her. She couldn't 'I am justified' herself out of trouble. She's already on the second strike for Merlin's sake. If she betrays him again, whether or not she did it for his sake, Draco would never forgive her.

Suddenly, the busy-haired girl gripped Pansy's shoulders tightly. "So what? If this works, we don't have to worry about Hanahaki at all. Draco would stop being a drama queen and trying to convince you that you'll be alright once he's dies." Pansy stiffened. "If this works... both of our friends will be happy, Pansy."

"Won't Harry be pissed at you too? Think of him too, Hermione!"

"I know, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. Besides, didn't you once say that you'd rather have him pissed at you for the rest of his life instead of having to visit his headstone for the rest of yours?" Hermione challenged. "This is the risk you should be willing to take if there's any at all worth taking."

"Draco's going to hate me," Pansy insisted. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to imagine that sort of dark world. "He's going to bloody tell me that he'd rather choke on Ron's stinky socks rather than spend another moment with me—"

"Pansy, is that really more important than not witnessing Draco keel over every few days until he grows so sick he collapses and never gets back up again? Until all you could do is sit by his bedside and cry about your regrets— those that you could've prevented if you'd just done something?"

The Gryffindor had a wickedly vivid imagination, but Pansy couldn't help but shudder at the imagery.

Slowly, she nodded.

"Good. So here's what we need to do..."

"Oh. Pansy," Draco said in a light-hearted tone. "Come to discuss the wonders of Severus's sensitivity, have you?"

Harry laughed, the sound so horribly muffled behind the brunet's hand. She raised an eyebrow, but didn't dare to ask any questions. She knew that she would receive no answers while her friends were in on an inside joke she didn't understand.

"No, actually. Vicky wanted me to tell you that dinner's nearly. Vincent got into a little accident so she's a bit too busy trying to sort the mess out," Pansy lied effortlessly. She crossed her index and her middle finger behind her back, praying to Merlin that she hadn't jinxed it. "He's fine now, I believe, but before we eat, Hermione and I wanted to discuss which sights we would be visiting."

Clearly disappointed by her response, Draco pursed his lips. "That should be something we discuss." He glanced at Harry. "Do you think some vendors would sell chocolate frogs by any chance? Perhaps I could get a gift for Severus."

This threw Harry into another fit of giggles.

Pansy shook her head apologetically. "However, we can ask the locals. You do speak French right? Narcissa didn't stop your lessons?"

Draco rolled his eyes before replying, "If she did, I wouldn't've have been gifted the property of a French estate."

"Show-off," Pansy grumbled. "Anyways, come out now, you two. You can finish your classwork later."

Without another word spoken between them, they made their way to the dining hall, where all of their friends were sitting in lavished silk chairs around a large, skinny table. While Blaise, Theo, Vince, and Greg were lounging comfortably, Ron and Hermione were wide-eyed. Pansy knew that it was because the Weasley Burrow was much smaller and less richly decorated than the Le Havre safe-house. Harry himself glanced at his surroundings as if there was something amiss, but took a tentative seat next to Ron. Pansy seated herself at the right-hand side of the head of the table, right next to where Draco sat.

"So there are sights that you've planned on visiting, Hermione?" Draco asked. Nodding shyly, Hermione smiled before bringing out a large book. "Merlin."

"Relax," she laughed. "These are sights from other countries as well. The Paris section is only a few pages."

"Right," Pansy snorted. Hermione shot her a murderous look and, when Pansy glanced at the visibly paling red-head, Ron was shaking his head and trying to tell Pansy that she should let Hermione read in peace. Pansy took his advice and leaned back in her chair. "Alright, alright. Go on ahead, Hermione."

"Thank you." Without further warning, she threw open the book and flipped about half-way into it.

"That's a bit too much reading for a non-school assignment," Draco said casually. "Admirable, I suppose. I can't remember the last book that I read willingly."

"These Witches Don't Burn," Blaise responded without a moment's hesitation.

Draco blinked. "Was it really that long ago?"

"Yes."

"Wait, but even back then, you were complaining about it," Theo snickered. "I think that the only reason why you read it was because Blaise kept harassing you about it."

"Before that, did I read anything on my own accord?" Draco pondered. Blaise shook his head. "I can't believe myself."

There was a sudden pop. "Vicky brings food for Master Draco and allies! Vicky brings 6 courses!"

"Thank you, Vicky," Draco responded, directing his smile to her as he leaned over and rubbed her head. "Good work."

Vicky beamed. "Thank you, Master Draco! Vicky is happy!"

As a bowl of soupe à l’oignon appeared in front of every person, Hermione clicked her tongue and proudly held up this semi-long piece of parchment paper. "I made a list of all the most popular places!"

"Go on ahead, Hermione," Draco encouraged.

"First, there's the Eiffel Tower. We should definitely see that one," she gushed. "Then there's the Notre-Dame Cathedral, Louvre Museum, Arc de Triomphe, Versailles Palace—"

"Ooh, isn't that the palace that Louis XIII decided to build after hunting boar?" Draco asked, his interest piqued. That familiar glint in his eye made its reappearance. Pansy snorted, some part of her still not believing that he knew random facts without reading anything despite how long she's known him.

Hermione grinned. "Yes, it is. You read it in Hogwarts: A History Second Edition, didn't you?"

"Actually, Mother told me. She's been enamored with France ever since she was a student," Draco admitted. His delighted expression fell. "She told me that it'd one of the first place we'd visit if there was ever a chance for her to take me."

Everyone refused to address the elephant in the room; nobody wanted to admit that this may be the only chance he has to visit the palace.

"Look forward to it then." Ron shrugged. "If she mentioned it, it must be a pretty good place."

Draco smiled, albeit more melancholy now. "Of course."

"There's also a Luxembourg park that we should visit," Hermione continued. "We could eat lunch tomorrow there."

"Draco orders!" Pansy quickly said. "He's the only one who can speak French."

"That's not true—" Blaise tried to say before he was muffled by Hermione. He glared at her, upset that his own effort at learning French was ignored.

"Harry should go with him," Hermione said as if nothing happened. "I'm sure that neither haven't started the homework yet, and since Harry and Draco got a head-start, they should be the ones buying lunch. Harry wouldn't mind, right?"

"Er... sure...?"

"You are surprisingly lazy," Draco commented. When Hermione glared at him, he pretended to be unbothered and picked up his spoon. "Vince and Greg, do you mind coming with us?"

"Why do you want that?" Pansy asked.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Don't you reckon we'd need more hands to feed all of you lazy bastards?"

Pansy nodded slowly, his eyes fleeting towards Hermione. Her eyes made her seem disappointed by Draco's extension of the invitation, but the slight smile on her face suggested otherwise. "I think that it's a good idea. Sorry about dumping Harry on you though. I just don't think the rest of us can wake up peacefully tomorrow."

That was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"Oh." Draco's eyes were downcast and, in her peripheral vision, Pansy noticed the way that Harry's shoulders tightened uncomfortably. She panicked.

"It's just the new environment, right, Hermione?" Pansy asked. "I don't even think I'll be able to go to sleep with the urge to go exploring."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, seemingly just realizing how her words impacted Draco and Harry. "Of course! Draco, do you have any tips that we could use in order to avoid any incidents?"

Draco relaxed. "Yes, but you don't need to go alone. I don't mind showing you around."

"It's fine. You should finish the assignments," Blaise added, unknowingly going along with the plan. "Harry, you too. The quicker we complete them, the less we worry about them."

Hermione let out a disappointed sight. "I'd forgotten."

"We can go to the library to work together tomorrow morning while Harry, Draco, Vince, and Greg are out," Theo offered. "Draco, it's not too far, right?"

"Of course not. We flew by it when we first arrived."

"Which one was it?"

"The one with the gargoyle that attacked you the second time," Draco snickered. Theo rolled his eyes.

"Very funny."

"So where are we going tomorrow again?" Greg suddenly spoke up. Pansy nearly forgot that he was there. And, judging by how everyone stared at him blankly, so did everyone else.

"The Luxembourg park," Hermione replied slowly, her eyes looking around the table for confirmation. "Then the Eiffel Tower, Louvre Museum, and... is there anything else you think we'll have time for?"

"The Arc de Triomphe, maybe," Draco offered. "We can leave the palaces for the day after tomorrow."

Everyone nodded in agreement and that was that. They ate dinner quietly, a peaceful and calming air surrounding them. The rest of their six courses came out; each of them smelled and tasted more divine than the last. As Pansy was an utter failure in the kitchen, she nearly pulled Draco aside after dinner to ask if it was alright for her to marry his entire team of house-elves. Instead, Draco had swiftly excused himself and mentioned that he had ‘paperwork’ to do (which was his polite way of saying that he'd like to either pass out on his bed or take a long bath in the showers). Then everyone else, except for Blaise, Pansy, and Hermione dispersed in a similar manner. When it was finally just the three of them at the table, Blaise cleared his throat expectantly.

"Yes, Blaise?" Pansy asked.

"What are you two up to?"

"Nothing," they both replied in sync. 

Blaise snorted. "Whatever it is, Draco and Harry are definitely suspicious of it."

"No, they aren't," Hermione said, folding her arms. "Harry didn't even blink when I told him to go with Draco tomorrow."

"So this has something to do with Draco and Harry," Blaise concluded, his eyes narrowing meanly. For a mere moment, Pansy mistook him for his dead father. That was just how cold and calculating he became the moment Draco’s safety seemed to be concerned. If Draco was considered over-protective, Blaise would be over-over-protective.

"It won't hurt Draco!" Pansy blurted before she could stop herself. "We just—"

"It's just uncomfortable how they still call each other by their last names!" Hermione interrupted before Pansy could confess. "We're all friends, aren't we? They even talk civilly now. But..."

"You are bothered by it?" Blaise asked out-loud, the cold expression melting in a mere instant. He let out a low chuckle. "Merlin, so am I. That's a relief. I thought you were trying to get rid of Hanahaki by making Draco and Harry fall in love with one another or something. It'd be a very stupid idea, of course."

"What made you think that?" Pansy asked, nervous for her own safety. 

Blaise shrugged. "Well, I think that we can all testify that Harry had an unnatural obsession with Draco. I mean, who stares, blames, and stalks their arch-enemy at eleven years old? Who even has an arch-enemy at eleven years old? Obsession is on the border of love anyways— not to mention that if it happens, they’d both be happy and Draco would never cough another petal ever again. But then, if it didn't work..." He paused, his eyes narrowing again. Pansy suppressed a shudder. "You are doing it to get rid of the uncomfortable tension right?"

"Yes!" Hermione chirped.

"Good," Blaise said, "I'd hate to ruin my button-up just because two of my friends decided to be recklessly stupid. Blood is very hard to wash off without an entire bucket of hydrogen peroxide in hand. On the upside, once we cross national borders..."

"I think you made your point," Pansy interrupted. "No need to threaten us."

"Sure hope so," Blaise hummed, pressing the flats of his palms on the table and pushing himself up. "I think I should turn in for tonight. I wouldn't want to ruin Draco's life—" Pansy sucked in a breath— "and his dreams about a peaceful visiting experience by doing something incredibly reckless—" Hermione winced— "such as not getting an adequate amount of rest by tomorrow morning. We have a long day ahead of us after all."

"Good night, Blaise."

"Good night, Hermione. Good night, Pansy."

"Night, Blaise," Pansy mumbled. The moment he was out of ear-shot, Pansy hastily grabbed Hermione's collar. "When he finds out for real, he's going to murder me in cold blood. And then, the moment he finds out it was you who suggested this, he'll—"

"Don't be so over-dramatic," Hermione laughed nervously. "He's not going to do anything."

A pause. And then—

"Right?"

Chapter Text

"Do you remember the plan?" Hermione whispered in a hushed tone. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"No. I totally don't remember it after we briefed it four times and Blaise threatened us with murder last night. I totally wouldn't remember a simple plan with my life on the line," she sarcastically said. Hermione huffed.

"A simple 'yes' would be fine."

"I'd have preferred it if you knew me well enough to know that I would take you seriously."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, only to be cut off by Draco. They immediately shuffled under the invisibility cloak that Hermione snatched from Harry's room the night before.

"Good morning, Potter."

"Morning, Malfoy," Harry responded pleasantly. "Did you sleep alright?"

Draco stiffened ever so slightly, which made Pansy wonder whether or not he did sleep well the night before. "Well enough," he ended up responding. Harry nodded.

"It's the same thing for me."

"I see." Draco and Harry glanced around several times. "Do you think Vince and Greg are awake?"

"I sure hope so." Harry shivered, seemingly forgetting that he was a wizard who could perform warming charms. However, Draco stepped up and casted one for him anyways. Harry murmured a quiet "thank you" before turning his attention back to the lobby of the mansion-like safe-house. Pansy watched the oddly warm scene with fascination.

"Well, I bet they overslept again. They did this more often than not before morning classes," Draco sighed. They waited on in silence for a few more minutes. "Do you think I should do the chivalrous thing and wake them up, or should I leave them to sort out their troubles when they wake up?"

There was no hesitation. "Definitely the second option."

Draco smirked. Pansy nodded in agreement. Hermione's plan to follow them and learn information by their own means was entirely Slytherin-like as well. Though... she had done before they agreed to get along at the Hospital Wing. Could she have been put in the wrong House by accident?

"And that's how you know my friends and I have rubbed off on you."

Harry shook his head disbelievingly and stuffed his hands into his pocket. "If anything, the fact that you even considered the first option means that we're rubbing off on you."

"Never said I considered it," Draco replied, acting like a little shit. Pansy resisted the urge to run over and slap his arm. "Should we eat breakfast on the way?"

"That'd be fine by me," Harry said. Draco smiled and, as if she just knew him that well, Vicky popped up without him needing to ask for her. If Pansy was not accustomed to house-elves appearing and disappearing like that, she would've squeaked and jumped away. Much like the reaction that Harry had. "What the— where did you come from?"

"Vicky comes from the kitchens, Master Draco's ally! Vicky heard 'breakfast'! Vicky brings breakfast!"

Draco let out a soft laugh, which left Pansy feeling a bit breathless with how carefree he sounded. She wondered when was the last time that she heard him laugh like that and stopped cold when she realized that it had been a few months ago. Before she had went behind his back, snuck into his room, and made him uncomfortable. Draco’s laugh had suddenly become more reserved— wary of her betrayal— and Pansy missed hearing it. Missed it so bloody much that it hurt to know that he wasn't laughing the same way for her.

She snapped out of her daze when Hermione tapped on her shoulder politely. Vicky had presented Draco a cup of tea and a small package in her hands. "Thank you, Vicky." He paused before saying, "This is Potter. Dobby might have mentioned him when he visited a few years ago."

"Potter?" Vicky frowned. Then her eyes lit up. "Vicky knows of Potter! Harry Potter! Dobby says many great things about the Harry Potter!"

"Yes, that's correct. This is the Harry Potter he mentioned, and he is a friend of mine," Draco said softly, his eyes darting towards Harry for confirmation. The look on his face must've been just that. "He's a bit sensitive so please try to make a little bit more noise before you pop in and out, Vicky."

"I'm not sensitive!" Harry objected, his arms folding.

He was swiftly ignored. "Would you please keep that in mind, Vicky?"

"Of course, Master Draco! Vicky will tell when Vicky is coming and going!"

"Thank you once again for the breakfast," Draco said sincerely. Vicky beamed, the little bow on her head practically beaming as well.

"Of course, Master Draco! Vicky will return to the kitchens now!" She disappeared with a pop, leaving Draco alone with a still-startled Gryffindor. 

"You know... you don't treat her like shit. Your father treated Dobby like shit."

Draco nodded understandingly. "Father had a bit of a sore spot when it came to Dobby. He was one of the last house-elves to join the Malfoy estate and was easily the most mischievous. He and I got into so much trouble, Father lost a lot of face in the wizarding world due to our childish pranks and acts of sabotage."

Pansy still remembered the title of one of the Daily Prophets: "Malfoy Sr. Loses 10,000 Galleon Investor Through A Swan Dive" Draco had tripped over his own feet as he cackled with glee as he boasted about his little stunt with Dobby. Apparently, Draco really didn't like the investor, who'd came out as a wanted Azkaban criminal six months later. And even though Lucius had been under surveillance for 'attempting to break out a criminal' stunt, Draco received a gift of some sort two days later.

"Didn't mean it was right of him to treat him like shit," Harry huffed.

"I'm not saying that he was righteous."

"Then why are you defending him? You do know that he kicked Dobby around and threatened to kill me when I freed him, right?"

A silent beat.

"He what?"

"Kicked Dobby around—"

"No, I heard that," he raised his voice, an edge coming back to his earlier relaxed mood. Draco's head snapped towards Harry so suddenly, Pansy thought that he might've caught sight of them behind the pillar. She shuffled towards Hermione, who made a bit of more space for her. Pansy noticed that Harry's shoulders stiffened under the heated, calculating glare. "He threatened to kill you?"

"Er... yeah?" 

"Why would he do that?" Draco demanded.

"Because I freed Dobby with a sock...?" 

Draco, and Pansy herself, stared in stunned silence. Yes, house-elves are useful, and they are rather interesting to be around. Yes, they are difficult to obtain, and their loyalties are difficult to control. And yes, Dobby had been incredibly important to Draco himself. But still. Harry was not that bad of a person back then and Draco—

He and Draco were only Quidditch rivals.

They may have had heated exchanges before, but it was mostly due to the facts that Draco had the ability to hold really long grudges and that he really wanted some comfort food— always had to be chocolate frogs— after having his 'glorious' handshake rejected, only to find out that Harry 'bastard' Potter had bought the entire cart out.

The minute the trolley witch wheeled away with the empty cart, Draco vowed some sort of petty revenge that Pansy had never really been interested in like Blaise or Theo. She never schemed with them or anything. Neither did Vince and Greg, who were always just going 'along for the ride'.

"I apologize in his stead," Draco said, unexpectedly. His words shocked Pansy out of her daze. "He shouldn't have threatened you."

"Yeah, well, it didn't really matter. He's not going to kill me now since we're friends."

"If you don't want to be, let me know," Draco sassed. Harry snorted. "Let's just get going. I'll just send an owl when they're needed."

"Alright."

They began to walk towards the broom cupboards; and although Pansy lingered behind, both girls scurried after them.

"Having difficulty in keeping up, Potter?"

"Shut up Malfoy," Harry snapped back without malicious intent. "It's not my fault you're taller than me. It's only a few centimeters anyways. Nothing to brag about."

"I know," Draco cheekily responded. "Don't let Pansy hear you say that though. She'll never let me live it down. Merlin, I can just hear her voice now: 'Harry was right, you know; a few centimeters aren’t anything to brag about'. And then I can never get away with any height jokes with her."

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about Theo? He's a lot taller than you."

"Only a few centimeters," Draco haughtily replied.

"So you're really close to Pansy? In both height and friendship-wise?"

Glaring a bit because of the first part, Draco hummed in agreement. "Of course. I'm close to Blaise, Theo, Vince, and Greg as well. We practically grew up together."

"So you love her, right?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes. What was he trying to get at? That, maybe, Draco was in love with her?

"Of course. Just like how you love Hermione and Ron, I suppose," Draco replied. Pansy nodded. There was no other way that Draco loved her obviously— "She's my favorite person— again, don't let her know about that. She would look at me like I'm crazy and gesture towards Blaise like he should be my favorite person."

The question Pansy had was asked by Harry. "Why?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe it's because he and I always got on. Maybe it's because we understand each other more."

"If that's the case... why don't you consider Blaise your favorite person?" Harry asked. Pansy herself wanted to know the answer to the question.

Draco looked over at him curiously. Then he cracked a fond smile. "Because I'd rather confide in that witch than in Blaise. Blaise could switch loyalties in a blink of an eye if he truly wanted to. Doesn't mean that he would do it to me— of course not— but Pansy... well, I know that no matter what she does, she has my best interest at heart. Sometimes, I don't understand it and I lash out because of it. But... in the end, Pansy is the kind of person you would want around constantly because you can always count on them to have your back."

"What about Theo? Vince and Greg?"

Draco looked up in thought, before shaking his head and letting out a little laugh. "Merlin, can you imagine? Theo, who is oblivious to both his own and Pansy's feelings? Vince and Greg, who both once thought that a snitch was a bludger and nearly took my arm off?"

Pansy may or may not have been offended by his statement about her 'feelings'.

"What? How?"

"I'd like to know that myself. Personally, I think that they mistook them because they're both balls you use in Quidditch," Draco snickered. Sobering up, he turned his attention back to his feet. "Besides, even if they weren't like that, I'd still say that Pansy's the more important person to me." He looked up, his silver eyes a storm of passion and protectiveness. "Why do you ask?"

Harry's shoulders rose and fell. "Just curious. You look at her different."

"Of course I do. She's like the little sister I never wanted, but needed," Draco replied without hesitation. Pansy's breath hitched. "Sort of like you and Hermione, if you will. You love her like a little sister, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"It's different from how Ron and Hermione look at each other, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, sounding completely bewildered. Pansy turned to the witch in question, whose face was just as impassive as ever. "Ron doesn't look at her differently. Hermione doesn't look at him differently either."

"Potter, you are either completely daft or an absolute idiot."

"Calling me names now, Malfoy? How mature."

"Very funny, Potter," Draco scoffed.

They disappeared into the broom cupboard, reappearing a mere moment later. They launched off. Hermione moved to follow them, but Pansy grabbed her wrist. "I don't want to follow them anymore," Pansy said softly, tears still stinging her eyes. "I can't go behind his back anymore."

Eyes softening with understanding, Hermione rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's a bit too much for you, isn't it?" When Pansy nodded without hesitation, she nodded. "Alright. I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I'll take full responsibility for the whole thing. It was my idea anyways."

"I'm sorry."

She didn't know what she was apologizing for.

Hermione smiled. "Don't be. I knew how important your friendship with Draco was when I first asked you. To be honest, I didn't even think you would agree. So it's fine. I'll owl you later when they're nearing the Luxembourg park so you can meet us there with everyone else."

Pansy nodded, threw one last longing look in Draco's and Harry's general direction, and crept out of underneath the invisibility cloak. Hermione, on the other hand, accio'd a broom, swiftly casted a sticking charm on the cloak, and quietly tailed them.

Chapter Text

"Don't you feel like someone's following us?" Draco asked for the third time since they left the Le Havre grounds. Harry raised an eyebrow, shrinking his broom so if fit in his pocket. Draco did the same, the uneasy feeling not leaving him even when he felt a Protego slide into place around them. "Thanks."

"No problem," Harry replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "What's making you think that anyone's watching us anyways?"

"Call it my refined survival instincts. Not that you know what it's like, Potter. You have the survival instincts of a squirrel overdosed on numbing potions."

"Haha. Very funny."

Draco glanced behind his shoulder one last time, his eyes darting from side to side as he fell into step beside Harry. They made it out of the abandoned alleyway right before Draco turned to his companion again. "Are you seriously not getting the shivers?"

"I mean, it is January," Harry replied stupidly. "But, we have warming charms. Are you still cold?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco let out an exaggerated sigh. "I meant 'goosebumps', Potter. Do you not feel goosebumps? Do you not feel like there's eyes on you?"

Harry shrugged. "I think that's just you. You're pretty much pessimistic and anxious about everything."

"You've been talking to Pansy, haven't you?" Draco pouted. "Seriously though. I don't think this is just me this time. It really feels—" he shivered— "I really think someone really is watching us. We should go back to the safe-house."

"Malfoy, nothing's out there. It's just Muggles."

"It's not just Muggles, Potter!" Draco hated how his voice cracked. "Someone is out here. Someone with magic. Can't you feel it?"

He knew it instinctively.

He jolted away when Harry tried to steady him— when the brunet tried to reassure him of otherwise. Draco would love nothing more than to be calmed down, but he couldn't help his flinch backwards. This was the reaction of a boy who had grown too accustomed to the darkness.

The sort of darkness that even shadows were afraid of. The sort of darkness where the hollow and empty screams of victims bounced off the walls after they've breathed their last breaths. The sort of depravity of his father's own crooked mind, which forced him to allow this sort of darkness into their home.

Was the Manor even his home anymore?

And just like that, Draco's back to that hollow shell that stepped off of the Hogwarts Express from two weeks prior. Sweat trickled down his spine even though he felt nothing but cold. His shoulder trembled furiously. He choked, hoping for the air that never seemed like they would fill his lungs. He was quickly losing grasp of his surroundings— as though he was about to lose control over himself. He knew he was about to panic. He knew it, but he couldn't stop it.

Safety was something that Draco had been depraved of for those two weeks.

So even though Harry couldn't feel it, Draco did.

Someone was out there.

He just couldn't tell whether that someone was following them with curious or with malicious intent.

"Alright, let's just say that someone is out here. Why would they be following us?" Harry asked, oblivious to Draco's inner turmoil.

Because—

Because there's going to be a second war.

Because Draco's on the wrong side.

Because the Dark Lord has been picking volunteers (see 'victims') to bring Harry's head to him.

Because he'd spent two weeks in the cold, dark manor that the Dark Lord had taken residence in, and Wormtail constantly stared at him hungrily. Surely, if Wormtail had been appointed to kill Harry and had accomplished his mission, Draco would be handed over like a consolation prize. He felt as though he was on the edge of the cliff, but when he saw Wormtail giving his mother the same glance, Draco had the frightening thought that maybe his mother was the one that Wormtail was really after.

Draco, after thinking that two-second nightmare, stalked out of the drawing room and begged for his mother to be careful around the illegal Animagi. His mother warned him of the same.

And now that he was recalling all of this, he found himself not understanding why it'd been centered around him and his mother. Neither of them had done the bastard wrong— his mother treated him civilly and Draco avoided him as much as possible. His father didn't do anything either. Draco knew that Severus used to be bullied/bully Wormtail and his friends, but Severus and him rarely interacted since Wormtail resurfaced from the depth of whatever hell he'd crawled into.

Draco didn't know what he'd do if Wormtail jumped out of the shadows right then and there and assaulted him in front of Harry. He didn't know what he'd do if Wormtail turned out to be in Muggle Paris for Harry either.

Draco cursed himself out. He should've known better. He should've waited for Vince and Greg.

Or left well enough alone when all of their friends had originally rejected his idea of going to Muggle Paris.

Merlin, what if their friends were being watched and followed right now? What if they were in trouble right now? What if Draco had left them for the dead? What if they were too late to return and—

"Draco," Harry's voice cut through his thoughts.

A hand pressed into Draco's back. Gasping for air, he caught a whiff of Harry's scent— treacle tart, grass, and a hint of floral detergent. Even though he jolted backwards, Harry's grip on him tightened, providing the comforting warmth that washed over the blond's frantic body. Draco clawed at Harry's back, thankful for getting pulled out of his own thoughts. Then, he remembered himself and tried to move away.

Harry, however, did not relent. If anything, the hand snaked around Draco's back pulled them closer together until their torsos were too flushed against one another to be any closer. There was a low rumble from the back of Harry's throat. A hum, maybe? Draco couldn't really focus on anything other than the panic that was slowly disappearing and the scent of treacle tart from the teenager who was hugging him.

"Breathe," Harry said softly. His hand rubbed in small, comforting circles. "I'm here for you, Draco. I'm here."

Draco did his best to do as Harry asked, gasping for air through his mouth. Harry continued to rub soothing circles on his back, murmuring his soft request over and over until his panicked gasps quieted into near-silent pants. The presence of the person who was following them suddenly vanished, and Draco went slack in the brunet's hold entirely. He was only vaguely aware that they stumbled, his mind choosing to focus on the way that Harry's grip on his tightened and loosened. The embrace let this odd knot in his chest untie itself, allowing him to breathe more calmly and steady his heartbeat.

"Do you want some water?" Harry asked quietly. Draco's response was a shake of his head. "Okay. Is that person still here?" Another shake of the head. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'd feel a lot better if you weren't suffocating me with your jacket," Draco mumbled, feeling oddly tired now.

Harry huffed, letting go almost immediately. Draco tried not to feel to bereft. "It's called a sweatshirt, Malfoy."

"You called me 'Draco' earlier too," he blurted before he could stop himself. "Why?"

"You didn't reply when I called you 'Malfoy'." Draco didn't know what to say to that. Harry's eyes softened, the specks of gold in his emerald eyes clear from this short of a distance. "Was that okay with you? Me calling you by your first name?"

Draco nodded slowly. "Yes." Then, pausing before speaking again, he added, "Harry."

Harry's response was a bright smile, the corners of his lips dropping just as soon as they'd risen. "Shit. Lunch. We didn't order anything."

Draco snickered. "We can visit a bakery or deli corner, Potter."

"What? I thought you were going to start calling me 'Harry'."

"Your mistake," Draco gravely responded. Harry rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands back into his pocket. Draco smiled softly, pretending as though he had not just been assaulted by Harry's horrid obsession with treacle tarts. "I'm sorry. I didn't think..."

'That I would panic like that.'

"It's okay. I do it too sometimes," Harry replied honestly. That's when Draco noticed that there was a protective shield around them— disillusionment charm no doubt— and that nobody had glanced at them.

"So that's how you knew to hug me," Draco said.

"No, actually I wasn't supposed to do that. You just weren't reacting to anything else that I was doing. That was really bad." Harry bit the inside of his cheek. With his eyebrows tightly knit together and tight shoulders, Harry looked sicker than Draco felt. For some reason, a part of Draco was happy that Harry had been worried.

"Thanks," Draco replied slowly. "It helped."

"Yeah. No problem. Just glad it's over now. I didn't think that you, snobby Malfoy heir, could ever have a panic attack like us lowly half-bloods."

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes, hiding a smile behind his hand.

Harry had always been like this— the only one who could get under Draco's skin like this while also being the only one who would be utterly terrified for his (ex)enemy.

Draco knew for sure that if he'd gone seriously injured a year ago, Harry would've checked in on him. Not to his face, obviously, but Harry would come in after visiting hours and made sure that Draco wouldn't die before their infamous Gryffindor v. Slytherin match. Harry was stupidly chivalrous like that.

He was stupidly naïve as well; if Draco had apologized for calling Hermione the m-word the same day that he'd said it, Harry would've glared at him for two minutes before letting his guard down.

But, even though Draco didn't apologize formally, Harry had been unexpectedly nice to him. Standing up from the Gryffindor table when Blaise looked like he was about to beat the living shit out of him... listening when Draco freaked out and ranted about western constellation... Draco bet that Harry had sent a letter to him over break as well... and although he wouldn't condone Harry's method of casual stalking, Harry had been kind enough to not point out all the deep, dark bullshit that Draco had said to Hermione. And, even now, Harry had done all that he could to calm him down from a panic attack.

Without a doubt, Harry was as chivalrous as he was stupid.

That's what Draco loves about him.

Wait.

'Loves'?

"Shit," Draco cursed rather loudly.

Harry, oblivious to his inner turmoil, stared at him. "Draco?"

Merlin, Draco loves his voice too. It's kind, caring. Harry had used the same tone when trying to calm him down. Was Draco panicking now? Probably, but he couldn't focus on it. Harry's voice reminded him of that nightmare he had several weeks ago. The one with a flash of green and aching coldness. Draco figured out what it was. It was Harry dying.

That's what woke him up and jump-started that awful fit.

His subconscious had been trying to tell him that it was Harry all along.

The one that he was in love with and the one that Draco may have to hand over to the Dark Lord.

Harry would never say Draco's name like the way he just did if he found out about either.

Draco jerked awake from his daze. He flinched away when Harry reached out to him, his gorgeous eyes widening with worry and surprise. "Draco?"

No.

This has to be a mistake. Draco can't be in love with Harry. After all they've been through, Draco couldn't be risking their odd friendship for something like this. So it must be a mistake.

"Merlin, no. I'm such an idiot," Draco hissed. "All of this must be a mistake."

Harry's face fell, but Draco was too preoccupied to notice.

It just had to be a mistake. A cruel prank pulled by the universes that will eventually be revealed.

But then the world spun and bile rose in his throat. A familiar feeling was returning. One that Draco had successfully avoided for three days now. All the signs were pointing otherwise, but Draco refused to believe that he was in love with Harry. After all, he could just see the way that Harry would look at him if he found out: with horror, with disgust, and with discomfort. And then he'd say the bloody 'I'm sorry I don't feel the same way' that would kill Draco and—

"I see," Harry said coldly. Draco's head snapped up, his tears beginning to well up in his eyes. "I try to make friends with you and help you out so you don't die from some stupid condition, and you haven't changed from that asshole I've hated since first year. I hope you choke to death on those stupid flowers, Malfoy."

Merlin that would've been wonderful right then.

Harry stomped off. Draco's eyes burned with tears. His throat constricted and blocked any source of oxygen. Already weakened by his panic attack earlier, Draco's knees crumbled. Some random Muggle shook his shoulder roughly, talking about something called an 'ambulance'. And, right before his world completely faded, he could've sworn he heard Harry shouting his name.

Chapter Text

Draco was unconscious for 72 hours. He woke up to Harry holding his hand, Hermione and Ron huddled in the corner of his room, Pansy sleeping beside him, Blaise and Theo leaning against the wall looking dead inside, and Vince and Greg mysteriously absent. He tried to sit up, whimpering when he realized that his throat hurt like a bitch. The noise woke up Harry, who woke everyone else up by yelping when he flew off his clearly-uncomfortable chair and landed on his arse.

"Draco!" Harry shouted. He scrambled onto his feet, eyes frantically darting around as he gathered a random object and aguamenti'd it. The cool water splashed onto Draco's blanket. Draco hissed while Harry cursed loudly, quickly transfiguring the object into a glass and then adding water into it. When he pressed the glass to Draco's lips, he drank greedily.

As his hazy memories became clear, Draco was slapped in the face with the realization of how cruel he'd been to his friend when he was trying to tell himself that he was not in love with Harry. He pushed the glass away weakly and made sure that he was staring into Harry's eyes as he sincerely apologized. "'M sorry. Was talkin' to myself."

Harry shuddered; he knew exactly what Draco was apologizing for.

"No, I'm sorry."

Draco blinked. 'Why are you sorry?'

Before Draco could ask his question, Pansy shived Harry away from Draco. Luckily, Harry didn't fall on his arse this time.

"You scared the living shit out of us!" she screamed, raising her fist to weakly punch Draco's arm. He didn't make any effort to move away. "Merlin! When Harry came back with you like that, we weren't quite sure what to think!"

"Not his fault," Draco muttered. He leaned his body towards her, slumping and resting his chin on her shoulder. Pansy took a deep breath and relaxed into his half-arsed embrace. "I panicked. 'M sorry."

"It's okay, Draco," Pansy shushed. She ran her fingers through his hair and, even though he couldn't see it, glared at Harry over his shoulder.

"Someone was following us. I panicked," Draco confessed, burying his head into her neck. "Not his fault."

Pansy tensed. "You panicked because you knew that someone was following you?"

His words slurred as Draco responded, "Yeah. Air didn't feel right."

"He mentioned it," Harry confirmed. "I didn't believe him though. I didn't think that someone would've been able to follow us with the protection from this safehouse."

Draco was pleased that he had so much faith in the estate's abilities.

"Nobody should've been able to," Blaise agreed. Then he paused, pushing himself off the wall and sitting down on the end of the bed. "Unless... Lucius still has some ownership over the safehouse. In that case, he'd have access to all the wards and magical influences. He'd have been told of all of our arrivals, which would explain how he followed you and Draco."

Theo shook his head. "It wouldn't explain why the 'air didn't feel right' to Draco. Lucius is familiar. Surely, the air would've felt a lot better to Draco if it'd been him."

Although Draco agreed with that logic, he knew that he couldn't disagree with what Blaise said next.

Blaise huffed. "I doubt it. Lucius didn't feel safe enough for Draco to read our letters."

His father had changed tremendously after the Dark Lord began staying at the Malfoy Manor. It was a miracle that he hadn't yet landed in Azkaban. A miracle made of money, Draco believed.

"Father doesn't have any access. I won all rights to the estate after... er..." He glanced at Harry, who was staring at him intently. It was an embarrassing time, but Draco knew that he couldn't resist Harry's eyes— there was no animosity, simply curiosity and wonder. It was, unfortunately, a good look on him. Draco sighed. "After I won that bet the summer before Forth Year. I just never got the chance to reintroduce his or Mother's magical signatures to the safehouse."

"That's good— wait. 'Fourth Year'?" Pansy echoed, choking on air as she began wheezing. "Merlin, it couldn't be that, could it?"

Draco's cheeks flushed. "It is."

Pansy cackled while memories of the incident caught up with Theo and Blaise. They snickered as well. They'd sat at the same table as Draco and Lucius spoke their minds. It was ridiculous how childish they were both being— something that his mother used to say about them to Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. Even Draco had to agree.

"What are you guys talking about?" Hermione asked politely. "What bet is it?"

Pansy grinned. "Remember when I told you that Draco became obsessed with Muggle books in Fourth Year? Back then, Draco bet that Lucius wouldn't be able to sneak in as many Muggle slang terms than he could during meals. It was wonderful: for an entire day, we witnessed the Lucius and Draco sit in the dining hall cursing at each other under their breaths. We had a tally and everything."

"So... What did you wager?" Ron asked, confused.

Theo snickered. "I didn't know about the estate being wagered, but Draco mentioned that he'd bet on whether or not he'd return to Hogwarts. If he lost, he'd return to homeschooling to appease Narcissa. If he won, he got another year."

Draco knew that Harry was looking at him as thought he'd been crazy. After all... 'Hogwarts is the safest place I know.'

"Huh. I would've thought that you wouldn't've wanted to return to Hogwarts," Ron said. "You said that you hated it a lot of times. Dumbledore too."

Draco managed to hide his flinch. "I didn't," he answered truthfully. "Father didn't want me at the Manor any more times than necessary."

Silence hung between them.

However, never a big fan of it, Blaise spoke up. "We should do something similar when we get back. Wager different things and see who wins."

Pansy folded her arms against her chest. "If it's an intellectual competition, Hermione and I would win of course."

"I think you mean Hermione and I," he corrected.

She snorted. "Idiot. It'll be Hermione and I."

"Alright, you are both idiots. It'll be Hermione and I," Theo interrupted. Pansy and Blaise sent nasty glares his way.

"Who was the one who almost failed their Potions OWLs last year? And who was the one who didn't know the difference between firewhiskey and gingerwhiskey?" they shot back.

"Merlin, stop picking on me!"

Draco rested his head against the headboard tiredly. He smiled at their childish argument, thankful for the familiarity during times of when he should definitely be worried and uncomfortable. He'd worry about being in love with Harry another time. And about his two year deadline another time. He hoped that 'another time' would never come.

Yawning, Draco tried to subtly wiggle back into his blanket. Harry moved to help him; his right hand steadied Draco's back as he laid down and his left pulling the sheets over Draco again.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" Harry asked softly. Considerate prat. "Are you tired?"

'Just in love with you.'

"I didn't realize that I was," he said instead.

Harry smiled at him awkwardly. 'Are you still mad at me?' "Take a nap."

"Wait," Draco protested weakly. "'M sorry."

Harry didn't show any acknowledgement to Draco's apology. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Draco's gut lurched.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Sighing, Harry patted Draco's hands twice. "Have a good nap, Draco."

Draco didn't know if Harry was pissed anymore.

"G' night, Harry," Draco murmured, closing his eyes. He hoped he didn't sound too insecure.

And... Draco hoped that Harry would get some rest as well. He almost looked as exhausted as Severus did when Draco woke him up during first year to tattle on a duel that he'd challenged Harry to.

When Draco awoke this time, he was surprised to see Vince and Greg looming over him. Actually, he was surprised that they were there. He nearly forgot with how quiet they've been lately.

"Good morning," Draco greeted lowly.

"Do you feel better now?" Vince asked tentatively. "The Wizard's Flu left you?"

Draco had no idea what the Wizard's Flu was. However, his friend's terrified and puzzled expression was enough to tell Draco that he didn't either. Good. It meant that he could bullshit his way out of this and still remain respectable in his friends' eyes.

"Yes. A bit tired, but no longer infections."

Greg surged forwards and hugged him tightly. "Thank Merlin. Pansy said that we weren't allowed in because we never had it. Draco, you have no idea how hard me and Vince tried to be sick."

"'Vince and I'," Vince corrected politely. Draco was glad that at least someone was listening when Draco had corrected them all throughout first and second year.

Draco cracked a smile. "Don't get sick," he advised. "It's not a good feeling."

Unless one was sickly in love with Harry Potter, who will be not only the Savior of the Wizarding World but the enemy of all of wizard-kind if they ever got together. It was still a painful type of good feeling, Draco figured.

"No worries. It didn't work," Greg stated proudly. He puffed up his chest. "The flu cowered in front of us."

Draco tossed his head back and laughed. "Of course it did, you berk!"

"It helped that Theo fed us dittany constantly," Vince added, always the most quiet of the two. "I think he didn't want us to see you when you were sick."

Draco reached up and ruffled Vince's hair. "Don't be an idiot. He didn't want you two to get sick because of me."

His friend nodded, scooting in closer until he was practically hovering over Greg and Draco. He brought his hands around them until his large frame enveloped both of them in even more warmth.

"Theo said that you looked like you were dying. We didn't want you to be alone, but he wouldn't let us in. Blaise and Pansy were worse. They sent us on errands all the time as if we were too stupid to know something's wrong. We couldn't get away, but that's not an excuse. I'm sorry for not visiting sooner."

Draco smiled. "It's alright. Don't blame yourselves for not visiting. Why don't you tell me what you've seen while you were on those errands? We can pass the time until one of them find you here."

Greg glanced at Vince. "If Pansy tries to castrate me, I'll hide behind you."

Vince cringed. "Absolutely not."

Draco laughed again, sitting up with newly found interest as Vince and Greg began to tell him their adventure tales. As he listened, he wondered if the reason why he treated them so horribly out of the Slytherin tables and dorms was because he'd been trying to gain attention from Harry. It did make sense after all. The best way to grab a bloke's attention is (if one had not succeeded at becoming his friend) by being his best nemesis!

... not.

Draco had no idea what his childhood self was thinking. All his bullying turned into a reason as to why he couldn't be with Harry even if his life depended on it. Which, by the way, it did.

Draco wished he had more time than he knew he had to show everyone at Hogwarts the reality behind the 'Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle' friendship.

Vince continued to grumble out a story and a dash of frustration dripped into his tone, snapping Draco out of his thoughts. "—and that's when Ron and Hermione had to pull us out of the shop! How were we supposed to know that 'couillon' wasn't a French dessert?"

Draco snorted. "Do you know what it means now?"

Vince scowled. "No."

Right before Draco could tell him, the door burst open. Six heads popped in, all of them wearing matching grim expressions when they caught sight of the awkward hug bundle Draco, Vince, and Greg were currently in and had forgotten about. Vince and Greg tentatively stopped crushing Draco and smiled awkwardly. Greg shuffled a bit towards Vince, who eyed him.

The air was so tense, Draco sighed just to get rid of it. "Smile, why don't you? Today's a good day."

"It was," Pansy hissed. She sent a pointed look at Vince and Greg. "It was until these two tricked us into thinking that they went to the library!"

"It's fine," Draco waved her off. "Don't castrate either of them. Greg is ever so terrified."

Greg groaned. "You're such a prick."

The blond smirked in response. "Who is ensuring that she does not hex your bollocks off. You're welcome."

"I will do it for her." Blaise stepped up. "I was supposed to see you first."

"Don't be jealous."

Blaise fumed. "Don't be— don't be jealous! I think I've earned the right to be jealous any time that I want, Draco Lucinda Malfoy!"

Draco rolled his eyes as Blaise started to rant about how unfair it was that Draco didn't even say 'good night' before dozing off the night before. For some reason, he was oddly pissed that Harry had heard his last words of the night— his 'best friend privilege' apparently meant that Blaise should've been the one to hear Draco's half-drowsy, half-warm 'good night' after seeing Harry's smile. Draco didn't say anything of course. Blaise would've stopped mid-rant and stared at him as though he'd just said something St. Mungo's worthy.

"You're loud," Draco finally complained. "Can't we do this over breakfast? I'm hungry."

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "I sure hope you are. I'm going to feed you so many complaints, you'll barf them out."

"Yeah, yeah. Now get out of my room. We can all talk later."

One by one, they left Draco's quarters. He let out a long sigh as he slowly tossed the blanket aside. And then—

"Draco, can we talk?"

Draco turned, noticing that Harry wasn't quite outside of his room but wasn't quite inside of his room. He looked slightly better now— his eye-bags weren't as deep as they were the night before. However, he looked a bit restless and nervous. Like he had something to apologize for.

Draco didn't quite get it— he still thought that Harry pissed at him.

"Alright."

Harry nodded slightly, taking a step inwards and closing the door behind him quietly. He stood for several moments, seemingly debating with himself as he did so. Finally, Harry just sighed.

"I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't... I didn't mean it," he said. His fists clenched and unclenched on the sides of his legs. "I didn't really want anything to happen to you. I was being insecure and I—" Harry looked away, ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry if I overstepped the boundaries."

Oh.

Draco took a step towards him.

"You don't need to apologize. You helped actually. And... I didn't really hear what you said," Draco said. "I realized that I made a mistake on my Potions essay and would need to rewrite the entire scroll in order to fix it. I panicked again, and I suppose my body started acting up on its own. It's not your fault, Harry."

He was uncharacteristically good at lying.

He truly hoped that he didn't actually make a mistake on that essay though.

Harry's shoulders sagged with relief. "I thought that you didn't want to be friends anymore. I thought that us being friends became too much for you and I..." Harry stared at his feet. "It doesn't matter what I thought. I didn't mean it, Draco. I'm sorry."

"I know," Draco said. Harry was too kind and considerate to even think of meaning it. Well, he would've once upon a time. However, they shared a better relationship now. Harry wouldn't wish for him to die. And that's exactly what's going to make the end so painful. "It's alright."

"So are we okay?" Harry asked, insecurely. "Are you okay?"

Draco's hand reached out and gripped Harry's shoulder before he could stop himself. His mouth opened to say 'No, I am in love with you' but was quickly overruled by the rational part of his brain.

"Of course. Always," he said awkwardly.

Relieved, Harry smiled.

Chapter Text

"I'm going back to Scotland today," Draco announced over breakfast. Blaise dropped his spoon.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"I need to figure out whether or not my panicking was the result of my mind messing with me or if it was real. I'll be speaking with my father and interrogating him."

"We'll go with you," Theo offered. Everyone else nodded in agreement. "You shouldn't go back on your own."

Draco smiled. "As much as I appreciate your concern, I can go by myself. Besides, I've already taken three or four of your vacation days. You guys should be able to enjoy Paris until you're needed back at Hogwarts."

"... let me go with you then," Harry said unexpectedly. "I'm done with all the classwork and homework. The only place I want to go to is the Louvre Museum, which Pansy told me needs at least three days to enjoy. Plus, I think that all of us would worry less if you had someone with you."

"You only know one spell, Harry," Vince snorted. "No offense, but Expelliarmus isn't going to do a lot."

"But he's really good at it," Ron argued. "And he can conjure a corporeal Patronus. He can send us messages if anything happens to them."

"You can already do a corporeal Patronus?" Draco asked, his interest piqued. He leaned forwards. "What does it look like? Have you named it?"

"I think the real question we should be asking is how you know what a Patronus is," Pansy cut off. "It's not a part of the fifth year Hogwarts curriculum."

"I think Mione once mentioned what it was," Harry said. "I thought that it sounded pretty cool so I asked Moony— I mean, Professor Lupin to teach me."

"'It sounded cool'—" Draco sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, it was incredibly unfair that Harry knew how to cast one. Taught by Professor Lupin, too. Lucky bastard. "Merlin, Harry."

"And you're not lying?" Blaise asked, narrowing his eyes. "You can really cast one?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

He sighed. "Fine then. You can go with Draco."

"And don't even try to argue, Draco," Pansy said. "We're not letting you go alone."

"...fine. I won't. I don't understand why you are all so against me going on my own, however. I can take care of myself perfectly well."

"Remember how this argument went last time?" Theo reminded.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"It's settled then. Harry will go with Draco and send a message to us every once in a while."

A beat, and then Hermione laughed. "Imagine Lucius Malfoy's face when he sees Harry."

"It'd be quite amusing," Draco snickered. "I look forward to telling you how it goes."

"And that's what you said. So why are we at Gringotts?" Harry babbled, throwing his hands up into the air. Several wizards turned to them, but none recognized them due to Draco's expert charms.

Draco sighed. There were many reasons why they were at Gringotts instead of the Malfoy Manor— one being that the Dark Lord who wants Harry dead was residing there— but Draco knew that he'd never be able to muster enough courage to talk to Harry about it. Instead, he said, "I have to make sure that the estate's wards will continue working for our friends without me there. I also need to strengthen security, and all magical house security advancements need to be either approved or implemented by the goblins here."

Harry frowned. "Shouldn't we tell them first? I don't think Theo would like to be re-sprayed by the same gargoyle again."

"He'll be fine," Draco snickered. Then he stepped forwards to meet one of the goblins. "'Magical House Management' please. An anonymous dealing preferably."

The goblin nodded and led them to a hidden room behind the counters. Draco unhesitantly sat down in one of the silver chairs and watched the door patiently. Harry took a seat as well, blinking as the goblin then disappeared.

"You can talk to them anonymously?" Harry asked.

"Of course. Gringotts goblins not only guarantee wizard satisfaction, but also wizard privacy," Draco replied. "They're quite clever with so I suppose they'd like to keep dealing with our money. They make fine business men after all. Unfortunately, one can never truly know how many vaults and lands of property one's family owns until one deals with and earns the respect of the goblins. They're a bit too secretive sometimes."

"So you're saying... the vault I saw when I first came here might not be the only one?"

Draco had no idea what vault Harry was talking about.

"Yes. You should check, Harry."

"After this then."

Harry turned his attention to the ground, obviously dozing off as he and Draco waited in the room. Several minutes went by before a goblin with tiny eyeglasses and a funny limp on his left walked in. He sat down in front of them and pulled out a book that he scribbled in with a quill. He looked up at Draco.

"State your business," the goblin said in a nasally voice.

"Draco Malfoy's estate in Le Havre, France," Draco stated clearly. The goblin sat up, respect glimmering in his eyes. Draco smiled with satisfaction. Draco's family had always shown respect towards the goblins— speaking on their terms and offering a hefty payment with almost every visit. The goblins, in turn, have shown respect to his family and always put immense care for their dealings. "I offer a thousand galleons for strengthening of ward protection by goblins and transfer of ownership."

"Amount is acceptable for the deeds. Proof of identity?"

Draco cut his palm by muttering diffindo. He held the bloodied palm to the goblin, who swiped at it with the back of his quill. The goblin hummed as the tip of the quill turned blue. The goblin then turned his attention back to his book.

"The estate is currently in use, Draco Malfoy. There are nine inhabitants. Are these your allies?"

"That is correct. Several of my allies are using it as a place to rest. I'd like to ensure that the estate's wards and protective shields will continue to protect them in my stead. I'd also like to strengthen these by goblin means."

"You've mentioned. When you mean to strengthen, are you speaking of all the wards and spells?"

"Yes."

"By what power?"

"Of beyond the highest. I trust that the goblins will exceed my expectations as well."

"Of course, Draco Malfoy. And the transfer of ownership," the goblin continued, scribbling in the book furiously. "Who will the Le Havre ownership be transferred to, Draco Malfoy?"

Harry snapped out of his daze. "What? Draco—"

"Harry Potter," Draco stated clearly. "Son of the late James and Lily Potter. I relinquish all claims of the Le Havre estate to him."

Harry's jaw unhinged. "What are you doing?" he freaked out.

"Harry Potter," the goblin noted dutifully. Then he stared at Harry. "Proof of identity?"

Draco took his hand, casting diffindo for Harry. When the goblin nodded, Draco casted a quick healing charm. "Acceptable proof by your standards?"

"Quite," the goblin responded. He held the book towards Draco, and he read the notes out loud. "The protective charms are working with your allies. The wards will be strengthened per the most elite goblin magic, and the estate will be transferred to Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter immediately."

Draco hummed in approval. He signed the book, crossing the 'y' of his last name. "How long do I expect that these ward advancements to take?"

"No longer than two hours, Draco Malfoy. Do you have any more business here?" the goblin asked dutifully.

"Harry Potter would like to view all vaults and property that he has access to," Draco said. "Will you please call any house-elves in his care, if there are any? If there is more than ten, will you please call for only one representative?"

"Of course." The goblin muttered some ancient magic under his mouth. As expected, a single house-elf popped into the room. All clad in clean cloth, he bowed lowly. "The Potter house-elf residence representative: Whisps."

Draco got out of his chair and kneeled down on one knee. He held out a hand to the tiny house-elf. "Hello. My name is Draco Malfoy, and this is Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter. He is apologetic— he could not rely on your for he has been under the care of his Muggle relatives."

"Whisps and all others is grateful that she is called upon now," Whisps said with another low bows. He then took Draco's hand and shook it twice. "Whisps is happy to be of service to the young Harry once more upon his command."

Getting up from his knee, Draco turned to the brunet expectantly, only to stop because he'd noticed how incredibly shocked and overwhelmed Harry was. Draco sighed. "Harry, take a deep breath."

"I have— I have more than four house-elves?" Harry asked.

"Well, of course. It makes sense. Even before Fleamont Potter invented the Sleekeazy's Potion, the Potters were wealthy enough to own an entire army of house-elves— will you please direct us to Harry's vaults?" he added, addressing the goblin.

The goblin nodded. "Of course, Draco Malfoy. And I am assuming that his house-elf is coming along?"

"If it is a difficult addition, you may take as much as necessary from my vault. I reckon that I'll need to explain various things to Harry here on the way, and I'd like his house-elves' representative to hear my words."

"What is there...?" Harry squeaked, his voice cracking. His eyes darted towards the house-elf who was still waiting for his order. "What is there you need to explain?"

Draco smiled. "I need to assure that you won't be an entire mess after I die. Which, of course, means that I need to engrain years of pureblood teaching into your mind, starting with house-elves and care for your vaults."

"Wait, what? Draco—"

The goblin shut his book and stood up. Draco gestured for Harry to get up from his seat. "Best we get going. There's quite a lot to cover, Harry."

"About house-elves? Draco, I've got Dobby. I don't need— I've been doing perfectly well without house-elves before that." he huffed in frustration.

Remembering how Harry had kneeled down in the library and scrubbed the floor, Draco pursed his lips and put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Don't try to do things on your own, Harry. These house-elves are incredibly powerful, and you will need them by your side. Besides, Dobby is only one elf. You can't rely on him all the time."

"I don't," Harry stubbornly said. His eyes darted to Whisps again. "What would I even need them for?"

Draco sighed and straightened his back. He looked at Harry in the eyes. "You said that you saw You-Know-Who during the tournament. If that is true, you need all the help you can get for the plans that he'd have for you." Harry opened and closed his mouth several times. Draco turned back to the goblin. "Apologies for the delay. May we go?"

"Of course," the goblin said.

And then he turned away, leading them to the Potter vaults. As they walked and explored those vaults (after Harry gaped and sputtered incomprehensibly at the towers after towers of wealth), Draco made sure to explain the topics that he knew Harry needed to grasp: house-elves, creature inheritances, vaults, property, goblins, and so on. He'd just managed to explain the details of goblin silver melding when the goblin finally stopped walking.

"This is Lily Potter's vault. Here are the written directions for her son," he said. He handed Harry a piece of parchment paper. Harry stared at it blankly. "You need to prove your identity."

"How do I do that again?" Harry asked. He cut himself without any help anyways, allowing some blood to drip onto the parchment. He scanned the contents several times. "Oh. There's something she wanted me to have alongside her vault."

"Inside, I reckon?" Draco asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah. A book or something."

The goblin opened the vaults, allowing them to peer into a slightly less wealthy vault but one that was wealthy nonetheless. Draco and Harry stepped in— Whisps standing outside as Draco had asked— and Draco followed as Harry began walking around the vault. When he finally stopped, they stood in front of a thick book. And when he flipped it open, Draco realized that it was a letter and a collection of baby pictures. He took a step back to give Harry some space.

About two minutes in, Harry started to cry. However, he didn't make any noise as he looked down— he clearly had quite a bit of experience with tears. Draco took a deep breath and stepped forwards.

"Harry?" he asked softly. "Are you alright?"

"She knew that it was Pettigrew after all this time," Harry whispered. Draco could've sworn that he knew that name. He just couldn't place where he'd heard it from. "Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper. She wanted to tell me not to let Sirius and Remus hurt him. She still cared about him even though she knew that he'd betrayed them."

"Harry?"

"My mom cared about him even though he was the one going to kill them," Harry suddenly shouted. His shoulders started to shake uncontrollably. Draco took another step forwards.

"Harry?"

Harry didn't respond. His grip around the book tightened, and he looked as if he was about to commit murder despite his mother's clear request of nonviolence. Draco remembered what Harry did and, hoping that it would work, quickly enveloped him in an awkward hug. Harry dropped the book at that, turned around, and hugged Draco tightly.

"Harry," Draco soothed softly. He didn't know if it was the right time to apologize, but he did so anyways. "I'm sorry for making fun of your parents. Your mother is a kind and wonderful person, Harry."

The grip on him tightened. "I know. But she didn't even tell my dad about it. She didn't even try to take us away."

"She did the best she could," Draco reasoned.

"... I know," Harry muttered. "I just wish she did more."

Draco nodded. "Did you take a look at your baby pictures? Surely you have a few embarrassing moments."

"No. I was too busy reading the letter."

Draco nodded again. He slowly let go of Harry, feeling bereft immediately. He covered his mouth and coughed once, twice, and then quickly hid the flower in his pocket. Of course it was a bloody lily flower. "Let's take the book with us then. There's no need to leave it here when you could flip through it whenever you'd like."

"Right," Harry said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Sorry about the... on your robes."

Draco hummed, quickly charming the snot and tears off. "The what on my robes?"

The corners of Harry's lips quirked up. "Right. Never mind then."

Draco smirked back and strode over to the goblin and the house-elf waiting outside the vaults. He held out a hand to the goblin. "Thank you for your time today. May your gold overflow with the services you grant me."

The goblin beamed and nodded his head. "And may your wealth and dependence never cease."

They shook on it, and the goblin quickly vanished. Draco turned to Harry and his house-elf. "What would you like to ask of him, Harry?"

"Er..." Harry shrugged. "Anything."

Draco nodded. "Then tell him that he is free to leave and go about his own business until you need his help."

Harry nodded and did just that. As the Whisps popped away, Harry stared at Draco. "I don't think that I'll ever get used to having house-elves... What happens to them if I die?"

"They go to the person who is closest to you or to the highest bidder. It depends on what you'd like," Draco explained. He began walking away from the vault and Harry followed him closely.

"And... why did you give the safe-house to me?" Harry asked.

"If you ever get tired of your Muggle relatives," Draco replied, "there's another place you can go besides Hogwarts."

"You shouldn't have just given it up though. It's yours."

"Harry, it's yours now. And to answer your question, I have no other use for it other than while on vacation. You'll use it more than I will, I'm sure."

"You don't know that."

Draco raised an eyebrow and put a hand on his hips. "I do. I can simply win another estate from my father anyways."

Harry frowned. "By betting on Hogwarts again?"

Draco hoped that he'd win if it came to that.

Harry would be safer without him there.

"Of course."

"Don't."

"Why not?"

"Because you need to be at Hogwarts," Harry said. "Everyone will miss you if you're not there."

"Including you?"

Merlin, Draco really needed a mouth-to-head filter.

Harry's frown deepened. "Well, yeah. Of course I'd also miss you. I said 'everyone'."

His cheeks flushing, Draco rolled his eyes. "I heard you. No need to get sassy with me."

"It must be your friends rubbing on me."

Draco laughed. Sassy and blaming others for it? It was a miracle that Harry wasn't a Slytherin. "You wish. Now let me borrow your owl. Leia is at the Manor."

"Hedwig's at Hogwarts," Harry said, a bit of cheek in his voice.

"What sort of name is 'Hedwig'?"

Harry retorted with: "What sort of name is 'Leia'?"

Draco rolled his eyes in amusement, grinning as he jumped head-first into an argument with Harry about which was the better name for their owls. Draco won obviously. 'Hedwig' sounded as though Harry had seen a bald wizard and wanted to encourage him to get a wig for his bald scalp. When Draco had told him so, Harry gasped as though he'd been scandalized.

Chapter Text

"Are you alright?" Draco asked quietly.

"No."

Draco nodded. "Okay."

There was really no other response Draco could have given him. What was someone supposed to say to the man who lost his parents and learned that said-parents knew that they were betrayed? All Draco could really do was walk beside him and hope that Harry would talk to him whenever he needed to talk about it. And hope that Harry wouldn't fall into blinded rage and go after whoever the hell 'Pettigrew' was.

"I'm here," Draco reminded, remembering that Harry might not come to him if he wasn't reminded. He might accidentally pull another Savior act and do everything by himself. "If you need me," he added as an afterthought.

"Thanks." Wiping his eyes, Harry cleared his throat. Draco restrained himself from reaching out and wiping those tears away for him. So..." Harry tucked the book in the inner pockets of his robes. "What are we going to do until everyone else gets back from Paris?"

Draco shrugged. "I do need to borrow your owl to let my father know that I'll be visiting. After that, there's an endless number of activities we could do to fill the time."

Harry nodded. "I'll show you which one's Hedwig later. And maybe Quidditch? We didn't get to play with the others last time."

"Alright."

"Wait," Harry called out suddenly. "Am I really going to come with you?"

Draco chuckled. "To the Manor? Merlin, no. Father really might kill himself. As much as some things may be easier when he's gone, I'd rather not have Mother be alone for a bit longer."

"Oh. How long are you going to...?"

"Just a day," Draco reassured. "I'll leave in the morning and return before dinner."

Harry nodded, and that was that. As they walked back to Hogwarts, Draco imagined what Severus' face would look like if he saw them returning together without wands under each other's chin.

He snickered, only to stop briefly when realizing that he'd have to lie for both Harry's and his sake as to why they were the only ones to return when there were nine that took a week away from classes. He contemplated between saying 'I am using this as an opportunity to gain Harry's trust before hurting him' and 'I am in love with the git, what can I do'. He decided that he'd say the latter and watch as his godfather's face crumbled.

He laughed at that, imagining the slackened jaw and stupid look on Severus's face.

"What are you laughing at?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco's smile widened. "Nothing. I'm just thinking that Severus might be less than pleased by our early arrival."

Unable to help himself either, Harry grinned. "Do you think that I should ask him for a chocolate frog?"

"Yes. Absolutely yes," Draco snickered. "Make sure to bat your eyes and say 'Sev, can I have chocolate?' He's sure to give you one!"

Harry shuddered. "I'd rather call him 'Snape'."

"But then it wouldn't be as hilarious! He might not even fall for it! Seriously, Harry, there's no harm in saying it. Yes, he might hex you and give you detention, but his face— Merlin, it'd be worth it."

"No. No way."

Draco pouted his lips, tilted his head so he was a little lower than Harry's eye level, and batted his eyelashes. "Please? I'll help you get out of detention with him."

Either absolutely flustered or frustrated, Harry sighed. "Out of detention with Umbridge too."

Draco straightened his back and smirked. "You drive a hard bargain, but it's a deal. You're lucky you're bargaining with her favorite student." They shook on it. "Now, come on. If we hurry, we can catch him leaving the dungeons right before lunch."

"No, let's take our time. We can ask him in the Great Hall."

Blinking, Draco threw his head back and laughed. "Harry, I love the way you think. Let's do it."

Harry grinned back, no doubt imagining the embarrassment that Severus would feel handing Harry, of all people, chocolate so carelessly. Students finding out that he carried chocolate in his pocket will most likely enrage Severus enough to send both Draco and Harry to detention for two months, but he couldn't do that with both the entire student and professor body present. He'd be labeled as the weird professor who gave students detention after handing them chocolate.

And, Severus couldn't interrogate Draco about their early return in front of the Great Hall either.

Harry's idea was brilliant.

"I guess you're not entirely an idiot," Draco teased. Harry's jaw unhinged. "Don't look at me like that. The only class I've ever seen you do well in is DADA. Not to mention how Hermione, the most intelligent witch of our time, is your best friend."

Harry huffed. "Hermione is probably the most brilliant of all time."

"Agreed. That's why I thought she was taking the piss when she offered to lend me her notes."

"She did that? When— oh."

"Mind you, I was unaware that you three were on good terms with my friends at the time. What happened during those two weeks anyways?" Draco asked curiously.

He knew he couldn't ask Pansy, Blaise, or Theo— they always steer the topic away when Draco even sounds as though he's leading up to it— and Draco knew that Hermione was desperate to avoid talking about 'her taking Draco's place in Pansy's life' when she offered. Draco didn't really speak much to Ron, and Vince and Greg thought that he just suffered a really bad Quidditch injury. Which, when Draco thought about it, was the closest guess to the real answer since Draco did see Harry fly by on a broom.

Perhaps Harry could help him fill in the blanks.

However, when Draco glanced towards him, Harry's face was bright red.

Interesting.

"Er... nothing," Harry finally said.

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because Blaise went from wanting to hex you to defending you."

Impossibly, Harry's face burned brighter. "Alright. Something might have happened."

"And that something is...?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me what happened to your over the holidays."

Draco's shoulders tensed, and he unconsciously gripped his left forearm with his right hand. "You'll need to be more specific, Harry."

Harry seemingly struggled for words for a while. "The thing that made you look so dead inside."

"Worried, are we?"

"Yeah. I wanted to ask you last time, but we fell asleep before I could."

Draco blinked, surprised by Harry's bluntness for the second time. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure of whether or not he should tell Harry that the Dark Lord was bloody terrorizing his family's Manor and killing Muggles-slash-crucioing wizards for desert. He knew that he wouldn't be able to lie to Harry, however. And Harry deserved to know that at least someone believed him about the Dark Lord's return.

"Can you cast a Silencing charm around us?" Draco asked quietly. Harry looked confused, but he obliged. Draco took a deep breath. "Right. This is... you can't tell anyone about it. No matter who is asking and no matter who is bullying you, you can't say a word. Alright?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I swear I won't."

"And you'll tell me what happened if I tell you this?"

"Yeah."

Draco nodded. "Mother and Father hosted a guest." He didn't know how else to start explaining it. "The guest enjoyed worshipping and praising the Dark Lord. He brought a lot of... a lot of Dark objects and wizards with him. From the way that he was going about... I think I believe you when you say that he's back."

"Voldemort?" Harry asked, his eyebrows deeply furrowed. Draco winced at the name. "Shit. Sorry. You-Know-Who?"

Draco nodded. He looked at his shoes. "The guest, he... he did a lot of things."

"To you?"

His grip around his left forearm tightened. Yes. "No. I kept my head down and made sure to get out of his way. The peacocks in the garden and other... beings suffered however. That's why I didn't read any read any of the letters that Pansy said she sent."

"We all sent a letter or two," Harry interrupted. Draco glanced up, surprised that he saw a storm brewing behind Harry's usually carefree eyes.

"I see. Well, if there was an important message in any of them..."

"No. Keep going. What else happened?"

Draco looked back down, ashamed. "Wormtail, one of his lackeys, made passes at my mother."

Harry took in a sharp breath. "And you?"

"Father wouldn't have let him touch me."

"But he tried."

It wasn't a question, but Draco nodded in agreement anyways.

"And then I began getting nightmares about the Dark Lord—" killing you. "I didn't get much sleep until I returned to Hogwarts."

Harry stayed silent for long moments. "How long is that guest staying at your place?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know."

"Do you know their name?"

Yes.

"No. We were never formally introduced."

Harry nodded. "Come with me to the Dursleys this summer."

"The who?" Draco asked. Then he shook himself out of it. "I have to return to the Manor. I have tutors—"

"I'll get them," Harry interrupted angrily, shocking Draco. He took two deep breaths. "I'll get whatever you need. You can't go back. I don't like the sound of this guest. He's clearly an asshole, and if he made you believe that Voldemort— shit, You-Know-Who— is back, you can't go back."

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Draco shot back. Harry frowned. "Besides, I have an obligation to my family—"

"Fuck family," Harry growled. "You're being harassed and you were sleep deprived."

"Slight problems," Draco said, waving it off. "Now fulfil your part of the deal—"

"Not until you swear that you aren't going back, Draco."

"I can't."

"You can," Harry insisted. "Draco, before you came back, everyone was so fucking worried about you. Pansy thought that you either died or got pissed off at her. Theo tried to calm her down, but nothing worked. Blaise overworked himself to the point where he ended up in the Hospital Wing for two days just to get sleep. Ron and I planned to break into the Malfoy Manor to demand an explanation, and Hermione nearly couldn't stop us from doing that. And, when you did come back, we became twice as worried! You looked all tired and dead and shit, and—"

Harry shuddered. "Pansy pulled me aside after we took that nap and thanked me for bringing you 'to life'. We were all still worried about you, and then at the stupid party, you sounded so defeated as you asked Hermione to 'take care of Pansy'! That night, Hermione cried herself to sleep and couldn't focus in any of her classes. That's how you know if some shit was going down— when Hermione couldn't focus in class!"

Draco stared. "Alright, I get it. But I can't—"

"Don't say that you can't not go back!" Harry snapped. He took another two deep breaths. When he spoke again, he sounded more sad and broken instead of angry and determined. "Draco, you're important to us. I know that you still think that I hate you or something like that because of our fights for last four and a half years, but it's not true. I care, and if you go back to the Malfoy place or whatever—"

"The Malfoy Manor," Draco interrupted lowly.

"Fine. If you go back to the Malfoy Manor, and you came back like you had from the holidays... we'd all be devastated. Even worse: if you didn't come back at all, we'll all jump to the worst case scenario but wreak havoc anyways breaking into the Malfoy Manor trying to figure out what happened to you. And don't say that we can't. Pansy and Hermione— all of us— we won't stop until we do. At least, if you're with me at the Dursleys..."

"I can't," Draco said, weaker now.

It was obvious that Harry had been thinking about this for a long time. He made too many good points— some Draco were incredibly surprised about— for Draco to believe that he's saying this impulsively, and he clearly wasn't going to relent. The information that Draco had just leaked to him most likely tipped him off the edge. But, Harry didn't know Draco had to return. The Dark Lord branded him, and if he finds out that Harry's taken Draco to whoever-the-hell the Dursleys are, the Dark Lord will track him down. Harry wouldn't be safe if Draco comes with, but he won't give up until Draco comes with either.

Still. The answer was obvious. Draco had to remain firm. He couldn't give in—

"Please," Harry begged. His voice cracked, and he sounded as though he was moments away from bursting into tears. Draco's gut lurched. "At least until that guest—" he growled 'guest'— "leaves, alright? If he's gone before summer, you can forget that I even offered. But, if he's not, please come with me."

Helpless under Harry's pleas and puppy eyes, Draco nodded slowly. "I'll think about it."

Harry shook his head. "No. Promise me that you'll do it."

"Harry, I can't..." Draco's words trailed off. Harry stared at him with a helpless expression. His eyes asked a silent plea, and Draco found his resolve crumbling. Fuck. "Fine. I promise. Now, what happened?"

"What?"

"The deal was you'd tell me about those two weeks," Draco reminded.

Harry straightened his back, the natural blush returning. The knot in his gut untangling, Draco felt like he was finally able to breathe.

"Right. There was a lot that happened, but in summary: our friends argued a lot in the Hospital Wing and compromised and figured out a schedule to take turns watching over you. None of us wanted to leave you alone and your friends definitely didn't want to leave you alone with us, so we ended up spending a lot of time together. We argued all the time though. And about three or four days before you woke up, Pansy and Hermione both snapped because if they agreed that if all of us were going to be there when you woke up, we should get over ourselves and act like civil people. Then we just clicked afterwards."

That made sense. But...

"Why were you guys nice to me too?" Draco asked. "Offering me notes and nearly beating Blaise up for rough-housing."

"Well... after we became friends, Pansy, Theo, and Blaise started talking a lot about you. Ron and I really didn't believe them at first, y'know, but then Hermione started believing them so we thought it was a safe enough bet. It's kind of embarrassing, but we felt like we were friends with you even though you were... y'know."

"Oh."

Draco felt like he should press more, but they'd reached the doors to the Great Hall. Draco blinked, confused since he didn't recall leaving Hogsmeade and walking into castle grounds. And, judging by Harry's confused noise, he clearly didn't either.

Draco took a deep breath, pushed all the uncomfortable tension and feeling to the back of his mind, and smiled at Harry.

"Remember the words? It's: 'Sev, may I have chocolate?'" he reminded. Harry nodded. "So you're ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Harry grumbled. "No detention with Snape and Umbridge right? You'll get me out?"

"I solemnly swear it. You can pick my outfit to the next Hogsmeade weekend if I don't."

Harry snorted. "What a horrible punishment," he muttered sarcastically.

"Harry, every year, you come back in the same grey shirt. I think it's safe to say that it is a horrible punishment."

Harry rolled his eyes, but his smile told Draco that he wasn't all too bothered by the insult. Then he took a step in the Great Hall, and Draco hastily followed after him. Students gawked and whispered as they made their way to the professors' table, but Draco didn't really care. He wasn't about to miss the front row seats to the show just because of some first-year gossiping.

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy. What a surprise," Severus sneered. Draco smirked, an action that did not go unnoticed. "We weren't expecting you to return from your research trip until Monday."

"Yeah, well," Harry boldly interrupted. He glanced at Draco, who was practically shaking with how he was trying to restrain himself. "Malfoy brought up something interesting and I thought that it might be better if I asked you."

"Very well. On with it then. Don't make me take points away for wasting my time."

Harry nodded. He did as Draco instructed: he batted his eyelashes and then asked, in a rather splendid imitation of Draco: "Sev, may I have chocolate?"

Severus mindlessly took chocolate out of his pockets and handed it to Harry. He continued to stare at Harry, gesturing for him to ask a question that was already asked. He only realized what had happened when Harry clutched the sides of his stomach and laughed uncontrollably. It helped that Professor Sprout, who sat next to him, muttered 'oh my'. That, and the rumor mill that was suddenly working in a hasty manner.

His bored expression immediately transformed into one of humiliated anger.

"Why you—" Severus looked at Draco, directing a rather nasty glare at him. "This is your doing, isn't it? Fifty points from both of your houses and detention with me for two months—"

"Severus, that is rather extreme for a small joke," Professor Dumbledore chuckled. His eyes twinkled with unhidden glee. "Neither of you are losing fifty points and neither of you have detention with him."

"Albus, you can't just—" Severus fumed.

Harry's roar of laughter cut Severus's curse off. Draco grinned, covering his mouth with his hand in order to preserve some dignity. He glanced at Harry, clearing his throat to catch his godfather's attention. "Thank you for your time, Professor."

"You're not welcome!" Severus snapped. "Get!"

"But before we take our leave, Professor, I have a mere request," Draco continued. Severus glared at him, but tiredly waved his hand for Draco to continue. Draco managed to wink at Harry without Severus seeing it. "Sev, may I please have a piece of chocolate?"

Severus gave him one. His face contorted. He slammed his hands down on the professors' table and glared. "Why I ought to—"

Before he could say anymore, Draco jerked his head backwards and both he and Harry made a run for it.

"He definitely hates us now," Draco sniggered as soon as they were out. Harry was still laughing gleefully, his right hand ruining a perfectly good chocolate frog.

Harry gasped for air. "Did you see his face?"

"Yes."

"If he makes me go to detention, I'm going to ask him for a chocolate frog until Gryffindor loses all the points that they have. It'll definitely worth it."

"I told you," Draco beamed. Harry shot him a very blissed smile. Draco's breath caught in his lungs.

"And you're going to be there right?"

"Obviously," Draco drawled, purposely mimicking Severus.

Harry grinned. "Hey, that was not that bad."

"Of course."

Harry shook his head disbelievingly, the small smile on his face bringing Draco a feeling of triumph. "I think if we tell Hermione what we did, she's going to kill us."

"I'd like to see her try before Severus gets us."

Chapter Text

They wandered around Hogwarts for about an hour, snickering to themselves whenever they thought of Severus's scandalized face. Draco knew that he was going to be faced with repercussions, but they were having too much fun for Draco to care. Finally, Harry's need to make up for lost Quidditch practice broke their giggling spell.

"Seeker's Game? Best of three?" Harry challenged.

"If you're not afraid of losing," Draco snickered.

Harry's eyes glittered with a competitiveness that Draco was more than well-accustomed to. "You've never beaten me to the Snitch before."

"Well, that's because I was focused on bullying you," Draco replied with a shrug.

"At least you're aware," Harry snickered. "I accept your apology."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It wasn't an apology. It was a mere acknowledgement."

"Whatever, Malfoy. You're still not going to catch the Snitch before I do."

"We'll see about that, Potter."

Both of them marched out to the Great Lake, accioing their broomsticks as they went. Draco conjured a Snitch, waiting until Harry looked ready to charm it away.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Harry said, just loud enough for Draco to hear from a meter away. "Flying, that is."

Draco smirked. "Harry, you haven't been on a broom in a week. Keep your undeniable love for it to yourself."

"Bet that you miss it too."

"I do," Draco confessed, "it's been too long since I faced you on the Pitch. I'd have loved to kick your arse this year."

"Again: you've never beaten me to the Snitch."

"Yet."

Harry let out a carefree laugh. "Sure. If it makes you feel better."

Annoyed, Draco decided that he would prove the git wrong. Just because Draco had once bothered to rise when given the opportunity to tease Harry, he wouldn't do it this time. And this time, Draco would be the one to steal the Snitch from underneath Harry's fingertips. And then, Harry would be the one trying to drown himself in the showers after the game.

Fired up at that thought, Draco grinned and loosened his grip around his broom. He relaxed, glancing around the field that they've chosen for each other. Although he'd never dared to fly above the Lake in fear of the monstrous squid, Draco couldn't deny how adrenaline pumped through his veins at the prospect of swerving downwards and fighting a squid with Harry. Maybe his head was beginning to be unscrewed— being friends with Harry is obviously bad for his mental health. Next thing he knows, Draco would do it just for the sake of doing it.

'Or maybe,' a forbidden part of his brain whispered to him, 'you've always wanted to go on adventures with Potter.'

His eyes catching the slightest hint of gold, Draco snapped out of his thoughts. He stared at Harry, who appeared blissfully unaware of the Snitch. Unless, that is, Harry knew it was there and wanted to wait for Draco to catch on in order to piss him off the end again.

Draco narrowed his eyes.

No. Harry wasn't like that.

"Draco?" Harry called. "Are you alright?"

Seizing the opportunity, Draco floated towards him. He pretended like he didn't hear the question and needed Harry to repeat the question. Then, he nodded slightly. "A bit tired, yes. It's nothing to worry about however."

"Do you want to stop? Is it hard to breathe up here?" Harry continued to worry. "You're just staring at me."

Draco rolled his eyes in half-exasperation and half-affection. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

And then something in Draco's eyes must've given him away because Harry turned on his broom (luckily turning to look to his left) and Draco surged forwards. Harry was quick, glancing the other way and darting forwards as well. However, Draco got a few meters on him and quickly secured his victory. He laughed as he spun around to look at Harry, who had this odd expression written all over his face. His eyes were all soft and he was smiling just as brightly as Draco did. The blond decided that it didn't matter though. The Snitch never felt better in his hands as it did that moment.

"Never caught the Snitch, right Harry?” Draco teased. He tossed it up several times, smiling smugly at Harry. He stuck out his tongue for good measure.

Most likely just realizing that he'd lost, Harry snapped out of his daze and laughed sarcastically. "You tricked me. That didn't count."

"A catch is a catch," Draco assured. "Don't let your innate ability to worry over me stop you though. It's a best of three and I'd hate for you to say that you lost because you were worried about me falling off my broom."

"Won't be a problem."

Yet, when Draco got bored of looking around mindlessly and decided to hang upside down by his toes, Harry practically darted to his side and tried to help him up.

"Draco! What the hell is wrong with you?" was his first words when he realized Draco was not falling.

"Relax, Harry. It's just a bit if fun. I'm not about to fall off."

"You are!" Harry insisted.

Draco rolled his eyes. And then, a bit of inspiration hit him. Draco quickly let go of the broom, accioing it as he fell, and then landed on his feet on the broom. When he glanced up, Harry looked as though he just had a heart-attack. Snickering, Draco made his way towards him. "Why so pale, Harry?"

"You fell!" Harry shouted, bringing his hands up to his face. "You scared me!"

"I didn't fall," Draco replied. "Besides, I've been on a broom since first year. I think I'd have better balance that what you expect me to have."

"Whatever. Don't do that again."

Draco shrugged. "Alright."

They played the rest of the game in complete silence. While Draco was busy wondering why Harry would react so badly to him not-falling, Harry was busy glancing around for the Snitch. Due to his lack of focus, Draco ended up losing 2-1, but he couldn't find himself to care when they flew to the grass and Harry grinned like an idiot while tossing the Snitch up smugly. Draco accio it to be a prick, and Harry yelped at the loss.

"Hey!"

"Slow, are we, Harry?" Draco teased. Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Says the one who lost the game."

Draco ignored the comment. "Are you hungry?"

Harry nodded slightly. "A bit, yeah."

"This would be a perfect time to ask for Whispy," Draco advised, sitting down on the grass. Taking a seat as well, Harry scrunched up his nose.

"You know Hermione's doing something called S.P.E.W, right? She'll be pissed that I'm using house-elves against their will."

"Don't be a fool. I know that she's started S.P.E.W." Actually, no he didn't. But, the details never really mattered when it came to their bushy-haired friend. She'll mention it to him at some point. "However, house-elves live to serve. They borrow magic from their owners and, if you were not introduced to Whispy, he surely would have died from lack of magic."

"No, he wouldn't."

"Alright, Harry. Tell me this: how did Whispy appear different from Dobby?"

"For one, he's not free," Harry stated.

Draco rolled his eyes. "He's not free to create magic on his own, obviously. However, he is dependent on Potter magic and blood. Just like the rest of your house-elves, you need to supply them with little chores to express that they are appreciated. Under very rare circumstances, house-elves may decide that they no longer want to work for their owners. Most of them would rather live in comfort with mundane tasks over living freely. Dobby obviously was no different until he realized that my father was a prick."

"'Was'? Draco, I think you mean 'is'," Harry snickered.

"His ambitions often consumes him, yes," Draco said stiffly. Although he did not appreciate being branded, Lucius Malfoy was still Draco's father and he had to respect him. Which, Draco still does begrudgingly. He hadn't quite forgiven him for letting the Dark Lord into the Manor yet. He's sure that he never will. "It's easy for him to forget about common decency and respect to all magical beings."

"And you," Harry added.

Draco blinked slowly. "Pardon?"

"And you," Harry repeated. Draco had no idea what he was talking about. "You told me about Wormtail and the Manor's guest— I'm going with you."

Draco blanched. "What? Why?"

"The guy— that 'guest'— might still be there. I'm not letting you go alone."

"Harry, you're being ridiculous," Draco blurted. No way was Draco going to let Harry come along. If Harry was right— Merlin, Draco hoped to heaven and hell that he wasn't— Harry would be dead within two seconds of entering the Manor. Draco would rather suffer under Wormtail's uncomfortable stare for eternity than let Harry go anywhere near the Dark Lord. If he could, he'd keep Harry away from that madman forever. "You are not going with me. Absolutely not."

"Why?" Harry demanded.

"You just reminded me that you freed Dobby. Father would sooner kill himself than let you within the wards."

"He can go to hell for all I care. I'm still going. I'm not letting you go alone."

"And I'm not letting you go with me."

"Why not?" Harry asked, looking honest-to-Merlin offended.

"I just answered your question," Draco waved aimlessly. "You're not going and that's final."

"No, it's not. I'm not going to let you go alone."

"Perfect!" Harry's ears perked up. "You're not 'letting' me do anything."

Harry scowled. "Why are you so against me going? What's wrong with making sure that my friend's going to be safe?"

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Harry was just worried. How cute. Bloody Gryffindor chivalry. "There's nothing wrong with it. You're just being ridiculous. I'll be gone for one day to speak to my father. He can't do anything to me that matters and, if by some bloody reason the guest is still there, he wouldn't have the opportunity to do anything."

Harry grit his teeth. "Of course not. And what are you going to do if Wormtail does?"

Draco blinked. He felt as though he was missing something incredibly obvious. "What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do if Wormtail tries something?"

"Oh, hex him of course. I won't let him do anything to Mother."

"To you. I'm asking what you're going to do if he tries to do something to you," Harry hissed.

Draco frowned. "I don't know what you mean. What are you talking about? What can he do to me?"

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. He reached his left hand up and messed his already-messy hair even more. "You're so— you're so oblivious! And you call me 'naïve'!"

"I still don't know what you're talking about." Harry yanked on his locks, and Draco reached out and grabbed Harry's wrist lightly. "Don't do that. Harry, you might accidentally bald yourself."

"Seriously? That's what you're worried about?"

"Well, obviously," Draco replied, silently tugging Harry's hand away from his own hair. "Don't make me tell you what Pansy always said about hair."

"Don't avoid the subject," Harry remained firm. "What are you going to do if Wormtail tries something?"

Harry glared at Draco, demanding an answer, and Draco sighed and wondered if he should just come clean so Harry would just back off. But then he thought about Harry not meeting his eye ever again and decided against it. He still had no idea what Harry was talking about. However, the brunet was obviously adamant in receiving an answer that Draco did not know to give. Reaching that conclusion, Draco pursed his lips and decided to ignore the subject all together.

"How long do you think Ron and Hermione will get their heads out of their arses?" Draco asked conversationally.

"Draco—"

"I reckon it'll take as long as it does for Pansy and Theo to do the same. Blaise himself took two years to even realize that he enjoyed Cassius's company and another three to realize that he was going to say 'yes' to Cassius despite his mother's distaste for him. Granted, I helped by advising Cassius to do a violin duet with him at the part."

It wasn't like Draco could actually talk about that since it took him five to realize he he was in love with Harry, and by then, he was doomed to a loveless fate.

Harry sighed again. "Draco—"

"Should we organize another party and see if one of them will admit their undying love for each other? The next holiday is Valentine's, isn't it? It'd be the perfect date for Hermione and Pansy to confess their undying love to our best blokes."

Harry scowled. "Merlin. Is this what you're like when you want to avoid a conversation? I should give all of our friends a reward. We're proud survivors of 'Draco's annoying tendency to plan parties instead of talking about things we should be talking about'."

Draco grinned, the cogs still turning in his mind. When he gets back, he'll definitely write a letter to Pansy and ask her to help him plan the Valentine's party. Of course, he wouldn't tell her why, but she'll figure it out later than sooner (Draco hoped so at least; Hermione might catch on and give a warning beforehand though).

"What are you talking about? I am the reward?"

"I'd like a different one then," Harry sassed.

Draco pouted. "You're such a git."

"And you're mischievous," Harry replied. "Where did that idea even come from?" Draco inwardly cheered that he managed to steer the conversation away from Wormtail and the Manor. "Ron and Hermione don't like each other the way Pansy and Theo do."

Draco snorted. "That's because you're daft and they're obvious to everyone. Ron and Hermione, on the other hand... they're complicated. It didn't help that Hermione went with Viktor instead of Ron—"

Harry jerked back. "You're friends with Krum?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Of course. The Malfoys were one of his first investors. We paid for his entire team's trip to Ilvermomy and everything. Personally, I think he's not as good as us, but the world obviously knows otherwise."

"So... did you help him during the Tournament?"

"Of course not. The Triwizard Tournament is an honorable and noble tournament. No one is supposed to help a champion for any tasks." Draco paused, his eyes narrowing. "Don't tell me someone helped you."

"No, they all hated me too much to," Harry replied a little too casually.

And Draco probably didn't help with his little charming stunt. Granted, Draco wasn't really aiming for it to be a hit. He was just bored in class and started to play around with a badge that he found on the floor. Next thing he knew, a hoard of Hufflepuffs surrounded him and begged him to create an shitstorm of them for the entire school. Draco was never one to say no to bright-eyed first-years.

"Most of us were just annoyed," Draco said after a long time. "The spotlight had been on you for too long. Diggory being chosen was perfect in the eyes of most Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. But then we had two champions and well..."

"Cedric's the real champion. Not me," Harry muttered quietly.

He sounded so pitiful, Draco reached out and clasped his arm. He smiled softly. "Hogwarts had two champions, Harry. Not one. You gave as good as you got and lasted far longer than five minutes. I'll have you know that I lost a chocolate parcel because of you."

Harry snorted. "Thanks for the faith."

"I'm serious. If it were anyone else in our year, they would've pissed their pants the moment they were faced with a dragon. Well, excluding Hermione, Pansy, Blaise, and the rest of our friends that is. They're all brilliant, and they would've stolen that egg in under five minutes. Other than them and you, nobody else from Hogwarts would have succeeded. And I would've enjoyed that delightful parcel."

"Thanks, Draco. You really like chocolate, don't you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes again. "I'm not fat."

"I didn't say that you were."

"Ah, but you were thinking it."

"Believe what you want," Harry replied with a slight shrug. "You're really not going to let me go with you? What am I supposed to tell Pansy? They're going to bloody kill me."

Draco looked away and hummed. "When are you going to summon Whispy?"

"You're a pain in the neck, Draco," Harry laughed.

"And you're a git who needs to feed his starving friend," he reminded.

Harry laughed again, quickly summoning Whispy.

Chapter Text

Narcissa knew her son like she knew the guidelines that she had to follow as a pureblood daughter.

She knew him better than he knew himself, and she knew that when he came home over the winter holidays, her son could no longer think of the Manor as his home.

And Narcissa couldn't even bring herself to console him because there was simply no way that she could have thought that it was her home either. Their lavish, yet quiet home was shattered in a mere instant. The inner walls reeked of death and darkness, and shadows lurked in every corner. Meals were accompanied by torture, and the screams of victims echoed in the halls for days on end until they all blended together. Sometime, that victim screaming would be Lucius, and Narcissa tried to shelter her son from it as much as possible— directing Voldemort's and any lurking shadows' attention to herself. She treated herself to lavish garments and remained in the spotlight for as long as she could before breaking down.

But still.

Her hardest was not good enough.

Narcissa kept her head down while repeating that thought in her mind like a mantra. She knew that she had to do better than her hardest. Her son was too young to realize that there were lewd glances thrown his way, but Narcissa knew better. She tried to step in when necessary and added an extra sway in her hips to catch the Death Eaters' attention. She tried to offer kind advice with a smile unfitting for a Malfoy (but fitted a Black) and played the pureblooded game she was all too accustomed to when she was a bit younger.

And although she appeared otherwise, Narcissa loathed it— having all of those disgusting mongrels stare at her— but it was a necessary method.

Her son was too gorgeous (from her side obviously— Lucius only gave him his hair and eyes) for his own good.

Unfortunately, this quiet method of hers did not sway Voldemort.

Narcissa cried for two days after witnessing what Voldemort had done to her son.

There was a dull emptiness in Draco's eyes for the rest of his stay, and there was a steady flow of bloodied bedsheets sent the house-elves' way. His mind played tricks on him, and his head remained bowed. His thoughts remained empty, except for the ocassional shiver from the reminders of "green" and Dark Lord.

For the rest of his stay, Narcissa wished she knew how to help him.

But she didn't.

'It's just another way that I've ruined him,' she often thinks while her husband is too busy to go to bed. She'd laid on her bed, dressed in the most modest pureblood nightgown, and stare at the ceiling. Her mind would remember what Draco did not: late nights where she would hold Draco's tiny frame and use him as her only anchor to the world. Being a female descendant in a cruel and sexist family forced her to remain strong yet docile. But, when she held Draco in her arms for the first time, all of the weakness that had been 'trained out of her' poured out, and she sobbed into his fuzzy hair while stroking his tiny tiny face.

She loved him unlike she should have as a pureblood.

How could she not? Her adorable son had the world in front of his tiny feet. She felt her son would be a part of a brighter future. But then Narcissa ruined him with her tears within the first forty-eight hours of his life.

She also often remembered the first time that Lucius's menacing frame towered over a crying Draco. He was too young to be hurt. He was too young to understand how to play the pureblood game. And so, Narcissa was quick on her feet, calming him down and reminding him that Draco just didn't understand yet. Draco looked up at her with wide eyes as he wobbled towards her, his eyes wide with understanding after all the shouting.

It was another day that she'd, yet again, ruined him.

Among all of her worst mistakes, Narcissa thought that not protesting against Voldemort's wish to mark her son was the worst.

She hated herself for being part of the reason why Draco felt so broken on the inside.

So imagine her surprise when Draco showed up on the doorstep, not even a month after holidays, with his head held high and eyes shining with determination. Narcissa didn't know whether to burst into tears or pack up all of her son's belongings and send him far away from the Manor. Because she knew him. She knew the look on his face; she remembered having the same one the night of his birth.

Draco was had love.

Narcissa hadn't ruined him completely.

So, instead of crying or packing his bags immediately, Narcissa pulled him in for a quick hug. "Draco."

Draco latched back like a man who needed to wanted to stay in her arms for the rest of eternity, but knew that he couldn't.

"Mother," Draco greeted.

Tears threatened to tip over, but Narcissa managed to hold herself together for her son. "Why have you visited? I didn't expect you for a few more months, Draco."

"I'm here to speak with Father," Draco said confidently. Narcissa nodded.

"Your father is in the Drawing Room, but I expect that the Dark Lord if awaiting reports of your mission as well. He's in your father's study."

Closing his eyes, Draco's frame stiffened. Narcissa knew that he'd forgotten about the mission. Although she was relieved that he hadn't been tainted further, she couldn't help but feel fearful of Voldemort lashing out.

"I'll accompany you," Narcissa decided. She'd step in and offer herself up if push came to shove.

Draco offered her a slight smile. "Thank you, Mother."

"Of course, my darling. Anything for you."

Narcissa planned on following through with that. She was willing to risk everything for her son— something that she'd been too cowardly to do for her cousin. She silently hoped that Sirius was doing alright wherever he was, and then pushed open the door to Lucius's study open.

Narcissa bowed her head.

"Deepest apologies for interrupting you, Dark Lord. My son, Draco, has returned from Hogwarts."

Nagini, Voldemort's snake, hissed in the Dark Lord's ears, no doubt saying something horrible about Draco. Narcissa could just imagine its words now: "Why keep him when you could feed me?"

Narcissa suppressed a shudder after thinking it.

Draco, always having been stronger than Narcissa could have ever hoped for, stepped forwards and bowed his head. He folded his hands behind his back, kneeling on one knee. "Greetings, Dark Lord."

Narcissa didn't know whether or not she was allowed to breathe. Her son had deliberately avoided saying that Voldemort was his lord. Good. Merlin, he's just a boy. If he already— no. Draco was smarter than that. Narcissa had to calm herself. She had to clear her thoughts and remain impassive.

"Rissse," Voldemort hissed. Draco did as he was ordered, making sure that his head was still bowed. Narcissa braced herself for the worst punishment; her right leg was ready to move in front of her son and take the punishment herself. Instead, Voldemort hissed, "Your misssion. Tell me."

"Yes, Dark Lord. I've attempted to find weak spots in the Hogwarts castle, but have turned up empty so far. The inner designs are more intricate than I've expected, but it should not be a problem. I should find the weakness soon, Dark Lord."

The Dark Lord hissed, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. "How long?"

"I am uncertain, Dark Lord," Draco stated.

"I don't like to be kept waiting. If you are incapable of going through..."

Narcissa took a step towards Voldemort. But, Draco seemed to have everything under control.

"No, Dark Lord. I am prepared. I will do everything in my power to complete the mission."

"Very well. Disssmisssed."

"Thank you, Dark Lord. Good day."

Narcissa placed a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder. "I'll ask the house-elves to begin preparations for dinner."

Voldemort waved his hand dismissively.

She grit her teeth and pushed the door open, checking to see if her son's expression had changed after coming face to face to Voldemort. Instead, Draco looked as though he'd ignored everything that he saw. Narcissa quietly sneaked a bit of her magic into his mind, unsurprised when Draco did not notice her. Thanks to her gender, far too many people think that Narcissa isn't capable on her own. Her son was not one of those people, but he never knew just how good she was at Legilimency and Occlumency.

She removed her hand from his shoulder, closing her eyes. She focused until she found the little shimmer of Draco's thoughts, and then she dived deeper to hear them. Her eyes snapped open when she heard it:

"Thank Merlin Harry didn't follow me to the Manor. The Dark Lord's 'lordy' wardrobe would've killed him through laughter."

Narcissa managed to hide her smile behind her hand.

She had to agree; the robes were ridiculous. Pettigrew, ever the idiotic oaf he's always been, bought the most muggle-looking robes he saw. Voldemort had no choice but to wear it.

And Narcissa should've known that Draco was in love with Harry Potter.

Draco always complained to her about him. After Lucius had given up on him right before second year, Draco turned to her and began to plan antics with her over tea. Narcissa had a feeling that if they had not been enemies since then, they would've ended up together by now. And Lucius would've wanted to disown him, but Narcissa would've stayed firm on her son's side until Lucius caved in.

Perhaps... Draco would let her plan the wedding? It was always a hobby that she and Sirius (he'll never admit it obviously; Aunt Walburga would've cut off his long hair and traumatized him for life) shared whenever Sirius felt particularly withdrawn from Regulus. It was a comfort hobby for the both of them. Several of their wedding plans actually carried out, and the one that Sirius had contributed the most on...

It ended up being his own to Remus Lupin. And Narcissa was sorry to miss it.

Perhaps she could figure out a way to reconcile with her cousin and ask him to help.

"Your father is in the Drawing Room," Narcissa reminded conversationally. She slipped out of Draco's mind and managed to stop herself from adding an extra skip in her steps. It wouldn't do good for her to appear pleased.

Draco nodded.

They made their way to the Drawing Room in peace, reveling in each other's presence. Perhaps, while Draco was speaking with Lucius, Narcissa could charm a small pouch to conceal a everlasting number of snacks and collect several of Draco's most prized objects. Draco's infatuation with Saint Potter will not be hindered by Lucius's cowardice and incapability to own up to his own mistakes. If Draco will be happier with Harry Potter, Narcissa was willing to give her son to him.

She opened the door, saw that her husband was hidden behind large stacks of paper, and cleared her throat expectantly.

"Draco's returned."

And then she sent her son a small smile and excused herself. She made scarce of herself, hastily gathering her son's belongings and thanking Yvy when the house-elf aided her. Narcissa counted down ten minutes. She already knew that was about how much time Draco would receive from his father before he was ignored. When her self-timer hit zero, she made her way back to the Drawing Room and waited patiently for her son to walk out.

She was only slightly surprised when he came out with a scowl on his face.

There were so many things that Draco resented Lucius for, and what they'd talked about must've hit a sore spot in her son.

"Are you alright, my darling?" Narcissa asked. Stepping out of the Manor, they began walking out to towards gates.

Only a bit of tension left his face. "I suppose I just heard a bit of uncomfortable news."

"That's a shame. Would a gift cheer you up?"

Draco's head shot up, his silver eyes glittering with curiosity and excitement. "Gift?" he asked nonchalantly.

Narcissa managed to suppress a knowing smile. "Why, of course. I'd forgotten to give you your gift over the holidays, and I've just been too busy to send an owl." She paused, enjoying the way that Draco looked towards her under his eyelashes, fluttering his pretty eyes expectantly. "I believe that you and the rest of your friends will take great joy in the gift."

"Yes...?"

Narcissa slowly took out the pouch that Yvy had helped her find, placing it in Draco's left hand. "This, my darling, is a Black heirloom. It's connected to several vaults, libraries, and kitchens. At any given time, you can feed the pouch a bit of your magic— a simple charm should do the trick— and it will give you precisely what you needed."

Draco's eyes were wide. "And this is a gift?"

"Yes, Draco. This is yours now. I expect that you'll take good care of it," Narcissa advised.

Draco beamed. "Of course."

Then, in her other hand, Narcissa produced a small box and a re-sized trunk. She slipped the trunk into her son's pocket, winking, and then opened the box. The Black crest stared back at her, and she tried to ignore how pained she felt upon remembering that it once was on Regulus's ring finger.

"And, Draco, this is your early birthday gift. A dear cousin of mine..." her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath, motioning for Draco to give her his left hand. Stunned, Draco did as he was asked. She slipped it onto his left hand, smiling. She knew the exact moment that the magic kicked in and sucked in the darkness from his forearm. "He was a good man, and he did what he knew was right although the price was his own life."

"Mother..." Draco said, his voice full of aching.

"Stay safe, my darling. I will always support you no matter what you do. Swear that you'll remember that, Draco."

"Yes, Mother. I swear." Draco seemingly realized what she was doing then. "Why does this sound like a goodbye?"

Narcissa smiled.

Yes, she knew her son. She knew her son like she knew the guidelines that she had to follow as a pureblood witch. She knew what he didn't know, what he shouldn't know. She knew when he felt broken, and when he felt whole. She knew who he hated, and who he loves. She knew when he was thinking about following Saint Potter into the depths of hell, and she knew when he thought about hurting himself to do so. Without a doubt, Narcissa knew her son.

And she would be damned if she didn't help him out of the circle.

"Because it is." She leaned in towards his ear.

When Draco arrived at the Manor, he wasn't expecting to see the Dark Lord in a good mood, his father in a bad one, and his mother in a melancholy one. He delivered a false report and uncovered nasty information from his father, and then he received a unrealistically heavy farewell from his mother. Draco boarded his broom with a unrestful heart and his mind spinning from what she'd told him.

"I love you, my darling. Be safe now."

Although Draco was certain that she didn't know about Harry's offer to take him in over summer, he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something. It wasn't like his mother to request something of him. The last time she asked him to do something, it was right before he returned to Hogwarts after break and she'd asked him to do something that he'd enjoy doing. Before that, the last time was during his adolescent years, and his mother had asked him to help her in the gardens.

His mother was kind and gentle like Harry, and she was so unlike his father, who was all thorns and needles on the inside. The minute his mother was gone, his father demanded a list of reasons why he received an owl from Severus that informed him that Draco was to not be at school for a week. Draco, after explaining that he was 'researching' for the mission the Dark Lord burdened him with, demanded to know about a man by the name of 'Pettigrew' and any mental illnesses Malfoys had.

After yelling at Draco and claiming that Malfoys are never sick with illnesses, his father revealed that 'Pettigrew' was Wormtail and that Wormtail was the one who betrayed the blood-traitor Potters that Halloween night. And then Draco thought about how devastated Harry must've felt while they were at Gringotts, and he tried to imagine how he'd feel if it was his mother who'd written him that it was a specific person's fault for her murder and requested that he didn't avenge her. Then Draco learned that Pettigrew was also friends with Sirius Black and Professor Lupin, and he'd deceived them even though Pettigrew was too ugly to attract any other friends.

Draco wanted to scour the hallways of the Manor, drag Pettigrew to the dungeons, and show him of just how miserable he should be with himself.

But then his mother gave him gifts to console him: a shrunken trunk that Draco knew contained his belongings and two Black heirlooms. One of which got rid of the Dark Mark and belonged to a 'good man'. The ring symbolized that Draco was free to choose between the good and evil, and that those coerced onto the wrong side can start over and make their own choice.

Draco didn't realize he was crying until he came across Harry in the Hogwarts corridors.

Harry stared at him silently, his jaw slackening, and then his feet carried him towards Draco. And, with the Dark Mark miraculously gone from his skin— Draco knew that the ring took it from him and he didn't mind at all— Draco knew what he had to do. It was an easy decision.

Draco ran towards the approaching brunet, threw himself into Harry's arms, and then whispered, "I have something to tell you."

Chapter Text

Draco dragged Harry to the Slytherin Common Room, ignoring the odd looks sent their way. Harry only stumbled over his words twice as he did so, his feet following Draco willingly. Draco shut the door behind him, pacing around his room. He couldn't believe that he was really going to do this.

"Draco?" Harry's face was pink. "Is this your room?"

"Yes."

"It's... it's neat."

"Of course it is."

Harry took a seat on the edge of Draco's bed, shifting every few seconds uncomfortably. Draco would've felt bad if his thoughts weren't running a few hundred kilometers at the moment.

"You said there was something you had to tell me?" Harry asked, his voice cutting through Draco's thoughts like a knife.

"Just... just give me a minute to prepare myself."

There were so many possible outcomes to telling Harry this: disgust, hate, confusion, etc. But, Harry had the right to know. Harry deserved to know. And regardless of the outcome, Draco shouldn't have kept it from him for so long.

However, before Draco could get another word in, he noticed that the reddening of Harry's cheeks continued. "Wha— wait! I have to do the same too!"

Draco cocked his head to the left. "There's something that you need to tell me as well?"

"Er... yeah."

"Do you want to go first?" Draco asked, unsure of talking now that Harry was acting weird. The brunet shook his head.

"No. Uh... whenever you're ready," Harry muttered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "That was the plan."

"Shut up. What did you want to say?"

"Right, so..."

Draco confessed everything.

He started by telling him about how he went to the Manor and learned that the Dark Lord was punishing his father. He told him about the nightmares after receiving the Mark and set of missions. He explained how he'd realized that his father was on the wrong side of the war and how he didn't want to be with the Dark Lord, but had no other choice with the Mark on his left arm. Draco even explained the vanishing cabinet (the object that he figured out he needed to fix), which he really didn't do anything to, and talked about how his mother had taken him aside and given him farewell gifts, one of which erased the Mark from his skin.

Harry's face remained blank the entire time, and Draco worried that Harry didn't want to be friends anymore as time went on.

Suddenly, Harry fell off the side of the bed and groaned loudly.

Draco rushed over, helping him sit up. Thankfully, Harry let him.

"I fucking thought—" Harry cut himself off. There was a storm hidden behind his eyes. "And you're telling me this now? After you went on your own?"

"I already thought about telling you before," Draco lied. Well, it wasn't really a lie if Draco did think about it while he flew to the Manor. And it wasn't really a lie if Draco realized that it was a good idea when he landed at Hogwarts. "I'm going to tell everyone else when they arrive as well, obviously."

"So this is why you were acting all weird last month." Harry asked. "And this is really what you wanted to tell me?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. He didn't understand what else Harry could've been expecting. "Yes."

Harry groaned again. "I can't believe I thought that—"

When Harry cut himself off again, Draco leaned in closer. "Are you alright, Harry? I understand that this is a lot to take in, but I'm willing to traumatize myself and give you any information that you need. I want to be on your side when the war starts."

Harry grimaced, and Draco worried that he wouldn't be welcomed to be so. "I wish a war can be avoided."

Draco shook his head 'no'. "It can't."

"Is this why you didn't want me to go to the Malfoy Manor too?"

"Yes. I planned on stealing many more Snitches and watching you drown yourself in the showers because you're just that disappointed in yourself," Draco joked. Harry laughed. Draco felt the tension leave his body.

"Merlin, did you have any idea what sort of hell you put me through? I was so worried— and for good reason obviously— and then you came back and told me all of this."

Harry's head dropped and Draco frowned. "I'm sorry for keeping it from you."

"No, don't apologize. I'm glad that you told me," Harry replied.

"Well, you did deserve to know."

Harry opened one of his hands. "Can I see the ring again? Did it really take the Mark away?"

He nodded, taking it off his ring finger and handing it to Harry. Harry's eyes filled with awe.

"I still don't know who she was referring to. She spoke of a cousin that had chosen their own path, but the only relative I know that did so is Sirius Black, who escaped Azkaban two years ago. Mother had once told me how close they'd been."

Harry shifted uncomfortably again. "Sirius, er, I mean..."

"I know you know and are in contact with him," Draco waved him off. "You were terribly obvious that day at the library. It took me only a few seconds to figure out that you and Hermione were talking about him."

Harry's face reddened again. "Sorry. Do you want me to ask him about...?"

"No, it's alright. I know that he hates me," Draco said nonchalantly. He's long since accepted it. He was a Malfoy. Regardless of his ties with his mother, Sirius Black would not hesitate to castrate him. The Blacks and the Malfoys never got along, and his mother and father were the only exceptions to that rule. "He'd rather see me dead before he speaks to me."

"That's not true!" Harry argued. "Sirius isn't like that!"

Draco sighed. "Mother wouldn't have gotten along with him if he was. But, it's true. My father insulted him, Harry, and Blacks are notorious for holding the longest grudges."

"Well, I don't see why he would hold you to it then. You're not your father, Draco."

Draco couldn't ignore the way that his heart fluttered at that. Although he wasn't one for theatrics (not that much anyways), Draco felt pleased to hear someone say that to him. He already knew it, obviously, but hearing it from someone was nice. Well, maybe it'd felt nice because it was Harry telling him that. Had it been Boot or someone Draco didn't particularly fancy, their bollocks would've been hexed off.

Still.

"And you have no proof that Sirius does not hate me."

Harry rolled his eyes, taking a mirror out of his pocket. Draco blinked. He didn't think that Harry had such a feminine side to him. Alright, maybe that was a little sexist and Draco couldn't really talk since he has one of his own in his pocket, but Harry having a mirror was delightfully unexpected.

"I didn't realize you constantly have a mirror in your pocket," Draco said conversationally.

Harry ignored him and called out, "Sirius Black!"

Draco sighed. Sometimes, he couldn't believe that he was in love with a stupid idiot like Harry. Sirius couldn't possibly be trapped in a mirror. Blacks were notorious for creating and manufacturing objects (mostly dark artefacts, but Draco wasn't going to traumatise Harry), not getting stuck inside one.

"Harry, whatever you think you're doing, it's not going to work. Sirius Black couldn't have possibly—"

"Pup, who's that with you?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Eyes widening, Draco leaned away from Harry. He mouthed, "Who is that?"

Harry grinned. "Padfoot!"

The unfamiliar voice groaned. "Alright, whatever you're cheery about, it'll need to wait. Who's with you, pup?"

"Hmm? Oh that's Draco."

"Draco what?"

Draco motioned for Harry to cut it out. "No," he mouthed.

Harry's grin just widened. "Draco Malfoy!"

"Cissy and Blond Asshat's brat?" the unfamiliar voice certainly had an edge to it now. Draco could just imagine a distorted man narrowing his eyes and scrunching up his nose in disgust. He shivered. He did not want to find out what convicts learned from Azkaban.

"Yeah," Harry replied, unaware of Draco's inner turmoil. "We're kind of friends now. I forgot to tell you."

A sigh. "You can't just forget to tell me shit like that. Fuck, I wasn't supposed to curse in front of you— bloody hell, I did it again. Merlin's tits, Moony's going to kill me."

Although Draco was still slightly uncomfortable, he couldn't help the snicker that escaped his lips. Harry laughed himself.

"It's okay. We can pretend nothing happened," Harry offered.

"Thanks, pup. Now do you want to explain why the hell you're with a blond git?"

"We're friends," Harry repeated optimistically. "And he's not a git."

There was utter silence from Sirius, and Draco assumed he was giving Harry the 'bitch please' look. His mother did wear that very well whenever Severus claimed he did not enjoy Draco's constant pestering for chocolate frogs. Blaise did mention that Draco himself wore it well whenever Blaise claimed that he wasn't in love with Cassius. Perhaps it's a Black hereditary thing

"He's been helping me with Potions and Astronomy! We even played a round of Quidditch the other day," Harry insisted. "Draco's not a bad person."

Another sigh. "Harry, you can't let your guard down with him. He's not even on our side for Merlin's sake. You can just tell by Lucius's face and his royal tree up his arse!"

"Well, Draco's not his father. Besides, he told me everything."

Again, Draco imagined Sirius's distorted face contorting meanly. "What do you mean 'everything'?"

"Maybe Draco will explain...?"

Harry looked up, his eyes pleading with Draco to say something. Already knowing that he was weak against Harry's eyes, Draco slowly sat down beside him on the carpet. Harry moved over to give him some space. Draco peered into the mirror, surprised when he saw a simple man in the mirror. Sirius had dark, wavy hair (like his mother) and kind eyes (like his mother), and Sirius didn't look very upset at all. Instead, he just looked disappointed with Harry's life choices and surprised when he saw Draco's face.

Draco sheepishly smiled. "Sirius Black."

Sirius straightened his back and narrowed his eyes, the normal greeting between purebloods. Ah, so Sirius wasn't stuck in the mirror. They were just communicating through the mirror. Handy craft, Draco had to admit. "Blond git."

"Sirius," Harry dead-panned. "He's not like his father."

Sirius sniffed. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Draco continued staring into the mirror, unsure of what he should do.

Growing up, Draco had heard two different opinions of this man, and he'd never known which one was worse: the kind, young man who was wrongly prosecuted for murder, or the brutal, hateful man who betrayed Harry's family. His mother constantly took him to the old Grimmauld Place, showed him Sirius Black's name, and told stories of five teenagers who all loved each other very much. They were undoubtedly painted memories of his mother, Andromeda Tonks, Aunt Bellatrix, Uncle Regulus, and Sirius Black. His mother preached about a beautiful son, who'd been sorted into Gryffindor and befriended a blood traitor, and about how the beautiful son made all the right choices. His mother made sure to mention how brave he was, and how he never hesitated to put Severus in his place after making fun of his friends.

She did all that while his father cursed Sirius's name. His father made sure to refute every kind comment from his mother with monstrous stories about a distoriented figure who slumped himself with blood traitors and werewolves. He told horrific stories about how Sirius Black was more cruel than the Dark Lord; his father explained how Sirius Black had constantly done the unforgivable, which is why his name had been burnt off.

Thanks to the very contradicting opinions, it wasn't until much later did Draco form his own opinion of Sirius Black.

After all, Sirius had been wrongly accused of murder for 12 years, but he was still willing to put himself at risk in order to talk to Harry through this ghastly mirror. By how old and weary it appeared, Draco figured that it'd belonged to Harry's father at some point.

And, now that Draco was staring at him, he realized that Sirius was not only kind and loyal, but also fiercely overprotective over those that he cared about. Harry was just one of them.

Draco couldn't hate the man in front of him when Sirius loves the person that he loves.

"I'm sorry your face was burnt off," Draco suddenly blurted without planning it. He inwardly cursed himself out for having this nervous tick, but he couldn't stop himself from talking the moment that he began. "Mother tried to spell it back, but it didn't work. And I'm sorry that Father insulted you. He didn't know about what you've sacrificed for Harry's father and Harry. Father tried to tell me otherwise of course, but I didn't really believe it since Mother kept telling me stories about you being fiercely loyal and brave. You also became an Animagi for Professor Lupin, and you obviously care quite a bit about Harry. The tapestry shouldn't have blasted you off for being loyal to your family."

Sirius stared back, visibly stunned at Draco's panicked confession. His jaw was unhinged and his eyes were wide. And, when he glanced towards his friend nervously, Draco noticed that Harry carried the exact same expression.

"You and Remus?"

"What? Did you think I was staight? Are you serious?"

"No, you're Sirius. I'm Harry," Harry replied stupidly. Draco wanted to pinch his thigh for being so stupid. So he did just that. Harry hissed and glared at him, but couldn't do anything when Sirius agreed.

"I don't know whether to go to Hogwarts and smack you for stealing my pun or cry tears of joy because of how well you've grown up to be. And how did you know that Remus is a werewolf?"

He blinked. "It was quite obvious in third year. Pansy— sorry, Pansy Parkinson and I figured it out within two weeks."

"But you didn't— you didn't.. y'know... tell anyone," Harry sputtered. "Why?"

"Well that's the year that I found out about the disease and obsessed over it, Harry."

Harry looked like he was going to be sick. "It started back then?"

"Yes. I just woke up one day to petals. It was all incredibly strange at the time, and I didn't want to rest easy until I figured out what it was," Draco recalled. Then he shook himself out of it. "Professor Lupin had too many scars for it to be considered normal. He disappeared for a few days the first month and then returned with a weary smile and new scar. And not to mention how Severus kept muttering werewolf remarks under his breath whenever Professor Lupin was nearby. The dots were already there. We just had to connect them."

"You're almost exactly like Cissy," Sirius unexpectedly marveled. Draco looked back down at the mirror. "You're your mother's son."

Draco agreed. After his father pushed for him to get the Mark, Draco much rathered to be known as his mother's son. She was always the better person of the two, and she cared for him as a person, not only as the heir. Sometimes, Draco liked to think that he'd always been his mother's son, but his hair and eyes made people believe that he was his father's.

"I'd expect to be," Draco replied. "I've got her tact and intellect, not that Father could've given me any of his with how little he has of both."

Harry snickered and Sirius chuckled. "Perceptive and witty. Harry, I like Cissy's blond brat alreadty."

Draco's cheeks flushed. He felt like he just received permission to wed Harry.

Harry scooted in closer, making sure that his face was visible for Sirius to see as well. "Yeah. And he's not on their side too. Do you want to tell him or should I?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably. He was alright with telling Harry, but... Sirius? Draco telling Harry was already sudden enough. Plus, he didn't know Sirius as well as Harry did, and he certainly didn't know what Sirius would do if it was revealed that Draco knows where the Dark Lord was at that very moment. On the other hand, Harry would be pleased and Draco would be on the good side with Harry's important father figure(?). Not to mention how Draco had insulted his own father and desperately wanted to take responsibility for it. He didn't want it to look like Harry told him to say that to get on Sirius's good side or anything like that.

"I lived with the Dark Lord," Draco muttered. Sirius's eyes widened and he blanched.

"What?"

Draco glanced towards Harry, who was looking at him encouragingly. "He's punishing Father for losing this journal of his. And I took the Dark Mark."

Sirius breathed in deeply. "Harry..."

"It's gone now," Harry insisted. "And he didn't want to take it. He told me so."

"Did he show you a pensieve?"

Draco froze. All the darkness, the echoing of screams, the stench of death, the taste of blood in the air... No. Draco can't expose Harry to any of his memories. "No. No, I won't."

"Draco..."

"I won't. You can't," Draco said louder. "No. You're not allowed to see anything. I won't let you see anything."

Harry's eyes widened. "Okay. Don't panic. I'm not making you—"

Oh, but Draco was panicking. He couldn't let Harry see what he saw. He couldn't expose Harry to what he was exposed to. Draco knew he was lucky that his mother was there. He knew that he was lucky that she protected him from whatever he didn't see. However, if Draco let Harry into one of his memories, Harry would've definitely noticed everything. He'd be sick to his core, and if he's sick, where would that leave Draco?

"Draco!" Harry snapped. In an instant, his arm was around Draco, and he pulled them as close as he could. "Nothing's happening. Nothing's wrong. No one's here but us and Sirius. You're okay."

"What's going on with him?" Sirius asked.

Draco took two deep breaths, re-centering his mind. Harry was right. He knew that there was nothing wrong. He knew that Harry wouldn't force him to do anything he didn't want to. Harry, ever the considerate Gryffindor, wasn't like that. But, Draco didn't understand why he panicked so easily. And it wasn't like what he'd experienced in France with Harry. It was brief, and the panic felt real for a moment.

Maybe there was something wrong with him.

"He panics sometimes," Harry explained. He checked to see if Draco was better and let go as soon as he realized that Draco was calming down. The blond tried not to feel bereft. "It happened while we were in France too— Sirius, did I tell you about the safe-house Draco gave me? I think you can stay there!"

When Draco's eyes refocused, he noticed that Sirius's eyes widened. "You went to France with him? And he gave you one of the Malfoy safe-houses?"

Draco decided that he needed to explain himself before Sirius took it the wrong way. "My friends, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini, were overworking themselves and I realized that they needed to take a break. I invited Harry because he helped me come up with the idea, and Hermione and Ron came along as well. I learned that Hogwarts was considered his safest place and wanted him to have an additional place for him to go to in case of emergencies. No one other than our friends have been keyed in, and we went to Gringotts the yesterday to enhance the wards."

"And you can be there too," Harry added cheerfully. "Apparently it creates this protective shield and makes you immune to any hexes and curses while you're there."

"And, as the owner now, those wards still apply to you," Draco said quietly. Harry obviously didn't know that; if Draco had told him while they were at Gringotts, Harry wouldn't have let him give up his one of his only forms of protection so easily.

"Listen—"

But, Draco wasn't listening.

His brain leapt two steps ahead, and Draco gasped, his eyes wide with understanding. He jumped up.

His mother.

She obviously didn't want to be on the Dark Lord's side. She'd told him to leave, to not return home if he knew what was good for him. If the Dark Lord found out about the Black heirlooms, he'll most definitely hurt his mother. There, she'd be safe if she stayed at the Le Havre safe-house. The Dark Lord can't step in without Harry's approval, and if Harry is at Hogwarts or is dead, the Dark Lord couldn't reach him. It was the perfect plan.

"Draco?" Harry asked.

"What's going on with the brat?"

"Sirius, can't you just call him 'Draco'?" Harry asked, a bit of playfulness dripping into his voice.

Draco's breath hitched. And Harry would be happy with Sirius being safe, right? If Sirius went to the Le Havre safe-house, he'd be safe to communicate with Harry. Not that Draco doubted his relative's ability to remain hidden, but it'd be even more perfect.

"Well, we've never met face-to-face. I can't just call him by his first name. It'll be weird."

"Then don't call him 'brat'."

"Pup, you're awfully invested in him."

"...I'm not."

"Sure..."

Of course, if Professor Lupin was with him, Professor Lupin could take residence at the safe-house as well. Draco was sure that the house had some rooms that the werewolf could use on the nights of the full moon. And! There were enough rooms for all of the Weasley family members. They're Ron's and Harry's family, aren't they? And there's enough space for the Granger family members as well. If not, Harry could always ask Vicky to establish more rooms. It could be their headquarters once the war began, and it'd guarantee the safety of all of the most important people in their lives.

Everyone would be safe. Something that Draco was now worried they wouldn't feel otherwise. He didn't want to wish the same sights he'd seen over holidays on others.

"Harry," Draco called out a bit breathlessly. His eyes snapped to meet Harry's. Harry stopped arguing with Sirius, waiting for Draco to continue. "I just had the most brilliant idea."

Chapter Text

Not even two minutes after Draco and Harry managed to convince Sirius that moving to the Le Havre safehouse was a good idea, their friends burst into Draco's room with their wands blazing. Pansy had kicked down the door, obviously not expecting Draco to be there because she stood with her arms full of books and eyes wide. Blaise, who was chatting with a confused looking Ron, stopped and stared. The rest of their friends just froze where they were with no guilty expression that they should have been wearing. The lack of space in their arms did not go unnoticed either. Harry shifted away from the blond, his arms up as if to say that he had no part in whatever their friends were doing.

For the first time in a long time, Draco felt incredibly annoyed with all of his friends.

"Merlin's beard. Of course you don't even have the decency to look apologetic." He then whipped his head towards Pansy, glaring. He knows that he should be telling them about the Dark Lord terrorizing the Manor and asking Ron and Hermione if it'd be alright with them for their families to move to le Havre with Sirius and Remus, but Draco was too annoyed by the prospect of the slightest bit of disorder in his room. "You better clean that."

"Of course," Pansy replied quickly. Scrambling around for her wand, she scorgified the door and checked it twice over for any dirty spots.

Standing up, Draco carefully took the books from Pansy's arms and placed them on his desk. If she was ready to kick down his door, Draco wouldn't put it past her to scatter the books around like a disorganized idiot. He carefully conjured another desk, glaring and motioning for everyone else to put their books down. One by one, they shuffled forwards awkwardly. "Honestly, you lot are despicable. Storming into my room and kicking down my door like that. I bet you wouldn't have taken the time and effort to put all these stacks away. And what even is all this? Is it worth a scolding?"

"Draco, you're a lot like my mum," Ron unexpectedly said.

While Draco sputtered indignantly, Blaise and Theo laughed, each linking arms with Ron. "I knew there was another reason why we get along, Ron."

"What? It's not a bad thing."

"Of course it's not. But I am, by no means, a motherly-figure," Draco huffed. He snapped his head towards Harry. "You agree with me, don't you, Harry?"

The brunet blinked. "Yeah, sure."

Draco would take hesitantly positive answer over no answer any day. "See?"

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically, but Pansy was the one to refute him. "Harry is always going to agree with you when you say it like that."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Is that so?"

"See? Just like Mum," Ron insisted. "So pissy over keeping things clean and daring people to go against her. I bet if Harry did, Draco would smack his face with the nearest object."

Feeling a bit called out, Draco scowled. "Thanks for offering. If Harry did say anything, I'll smack you instead from now on." Then he put a hand on his hips, staring at his friends. "So? Explain what you all are doing here, won't you? I wasn't expecting you for another day. Another two if any of you found a particularly good shop and wanted to revisit to buy gifts."

Pansy suddenly ran forwards, snatching Draco's hand excitedly. She squealed. "Okay, don't freak out."

"Absolutely not. To whatever you've done, I'm neither forgiving you or doing as you wish. Absolutely not."

"Rude." Pansy huffed. "Anyways, Hermione and I were talking with Blaise the other day..."

"Oh boy."

"And," Blaise cut in, "we got this brilliant idea. Well, really, it was my idea, but Pansy would kill me if I didn't include her for inspiring me. I threatened her and Hermione since I thought they were planning a sinister joke on you, but we spent the a good day in the library and realized that it would really be a good idea."

"What is it?" Harry asked, his interest piqued. "Why are you stalling?"

"Because Draco is definitely not going to like this," Ron explained. He sent an empathetic glance towards the blond, who was more interested in the stacks of books that they've brought instead of the conversation. He opened the book, scanning the contents for only two seconds before slamming it shut.

"Well, he did already say that he wasn't going to do it," Theo said.

Hermione smiled. "Well then maybe Harry could convince him to do it."

"Merlin, this is going to be so stupid." Theo sighed.

"But if it works...?"

"Alright. Either you spit it out or explain to me why the hell you have half a dozen books about ancestral lovemaking," Draco snapped. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He'd clearly done a bit too much for one day: went to the Manor, received delightful presents from his mother, told Harry about the Dark Lord, met Sirius Black, avoided a panic attack, and then convinced the ex-convict to move to Le Havre for Harry. Regardless of what his friends might try to convince him to do, Draco did not fancy reading about his possible ancestors' love affairs on top of all of that.

Blaise whistled. "Wow. Long day?"

"Like one you couldn't have imagined," Harry muttered.

When his friends looked towards him expectantly, Draco sighed and waved a dismissive hand. "I'll explain after you tell me what the hell you are yapping about."

Snapping his head towards Draco, Harry gasped. "No. Don't go first. He did this last time and made me feel like shit. He should go first."

Draco pursed his lips. "Honestly, Harry, what I've got does not compare to reading about your ancestors' love affairs. If anything, this will be a bit of good news for them."

"Alright, now I want to listen to you," Theo declared. "I could use both a bit of good news and firewhiskey right now."

Pansy pouted. "Stop insulting our plan. It's a good one." At Draco's pointed look, she caved in. "Alright. So you know how you're in love with this mysterious witch-slash bloke?"

Draco sucked in a breath. He forgot to tell her that he was in love with Harry. Bloody hell, how could he have forgotten? She's going to double assassinate him now. Draco quietly wondered if Pansy knew any Necromancers...

"We figured," Pansy continued obliviously, "it'd be best if we transferred that love to someone else. As in made you fall for someone different."

Draco couldn't imagine a world without Harry, but alright. He'll bite for the time being. "And what is that supposed to—"

"Make him fall for someone who already loves him?" Harry asked brightly. Alright, although Draco knew Harry couldn't possibly know that it was him, he was being an awful prat by saying that so cheerfully. 'Way to crush someone, you git,' Draco thought.

Hermione tried to hide her smirk behind her hand and failed. "Yes. Exactly. And the moment that Draco does love that person and the disease resets, we'll get rid of it in an instant."

"Well, it probably won't reset. It's just a transference, not a deletion and re-create," Draco stated blandly. He tried not to sound bitter.

"And it might not work in general," Blaise agreed. "But it's the brightest shred of light we've seen in a long time, Draco. It's worth a try."

"I don't want to try," Draco huffed, folding his arms stubbornly. "I like things the way that they are and I'd—"

"No, you don't," Pansy interrupted. "You do not like things the way that they are now. You may not like things the way that they are now. Absolutely not."

This conversation again.

"And why is that?"

"Do we really need to do this again? Leaving you in near tears once is not enough?" Theo huffed. "And I'm talking to both of you. Draco, consider it. Pansy, leave well enough alone. Now, let's talk about what Draco wanted to tell us. The good news that he has prepared."

"You sound like a gameshow host," Hermione muttered quietly.

Harry, Draco, Pansy, Theo, and Blaise all looked at her. "A what?"

"A gameshow host," Hermione repeated. When she got no reaction, she sighed. "Fine then. I'm sorry for the interruption. Please go on ahead and tell us your bit of good news."

Draco rid himself of his confused thoughts. "No. Let's continue to talk about your idea." He pressed a few fingers to his temple, sighing. "Regardless of what you want me to believe, I will not deliberately force myself to fall in love with some poor bloke or witch who is in love with me. It's manipulation. Not to mention how horribly that would turn out. Remember those books we've read?"

"Books aren't real life situations, Draco. We've talked about this," Pansy sighed.

"They're accounts, Pansy. It's as close to a real life situation as we can get," Draco deadpanned. He accioed his coat. If Pansy tried to argue, he was ready to leave at the moment's notice.

"Then... what if we kill him?" Blaise asked, clearly unafraid of the consequence called 'Azkaban'. "Maybe the disease will die with him."

Draco sighed. "I'd rather remain as I am than kill someone, Blaise. You know that."

Ron suddenly spoke up. "You know who it is, don't you? The witch you're in love with?"

Draco froze, turning on his heels. "No. If I had, I would have let you know."

"Unless you think that they're not going to feel the same way for you." Merlin, Ron was incredibly brutal when it came to his perceptions and words, wasn't he? Draco really felt that stab in his lungs. "Unless you think they hate you."

Draco laughed sarcastically at that, but Harry beat him to it. "Why would anyone hate Draco?"

Draco did not blush at the implication that maybe Harry likes him. Hate is clearly the opposite of love after all.

"Are you daft? This is Draco Lucinda Malfoy—"

Bloody git ruined the moment. Draco scowled. "For the last time, Theo, that is most certainly not my name."

Theo rolled his eyes. "This is Draco we're talking about. Tons of people hate him."

"Not true!" Hermione unexpectedly argued. "In fact, most of Gryffindor tolerates him. And that's saying quite a lot, Theo."

This time, Pansy cut in. "You certainly haven't met the Ministry of Magic then! Or most of the wizard and witches in all of Great Britain. Or some of the entire Wizarding World. As the only living pureblood heir of the Black, Malfoy, and Burke lineage, Draco has hundreds of criminals waiting for him to be alone so they could hold him for ransom and milk his family dry."

"Okay, that has to be a little bit exaggerated..."

"It's not," Draco sighed. "I've got a wall that I had to memorize of all the faces that I needed to avoid in Scotland. There's another wall in the Grimmauld Place of all the faces that I needed to avoid in Scotland, and another in Le Havre for the ones I need to avoid in France. Actually, I'm sure there are two, but I've stopped visiting one after that one accident..."

"And you didn't think to tell me this before I let you go off on your own?" Harry hissed. "Are you serious?"

"I'm Draco," Draco dead-panned. Harry huffed angrily.

"Not what I meant and you know it."

"Wait. What is this talk about letting him go on his own?" Pansy asked. "Harry, are you saying that you left him alone in a world where people are aiming to maim him?"

"Who cares? He's fine. Don't you think that having walls of faces is a bit creepy?"

"They're actually portraits."

"Whatever, mate. The question is: why the hell do so many people hate you? Money's not that important. It can't just be about money."

"Well..." Blaise hesitantly cut in. "It didn't help that Draco had a knack for trouble when he was younger. Do you remember the fifty million galleon scandal?"

"Well, obviously, Blaise," Theo sighed. "That's nearly fifty times the amount of money that the Weasleys ever had. Not trying to offend you, Ron, but it's just a comparison thing. Don't take it the wrong way."

"No, you're right. That is the main reason why I remember it anyways. What about it?"

Pansy glanced towards Draco, who gave her the go-ahead. "About a few days before that incident, Draco hosted his first piano recital. There were reporters everywhere, and one of the ambassadors of Spain arrived to speak with Lucius. Let's just say, Draco exposed him for his fake Louis Vuitton, his illegitimate sons, and his affair with his secretary. Nearly fifty million galleons worth of inheritance was transferred to this blond git, and the ambassador has a price on his head for it."

"Blimey. Why?"

"Well, they had to keep Draco quiet, didn't they? Money was the only thing that swayed Draco, and the moment that they stepped out, Draco exposed the ambassador. 'He didn't give me chocolate' he said."

"Chocolate?" Harry face-palmed. "Why does it sound like all your problems come because of your love for chocolate, Draco?"

"Because they do." Blaise nodded gravely. "And Ron, do you remember the scandal between the old Ministry of Magic and the Ministress of Magic of the Americas? Draco threw a hissy fit and got them slammed into Azkaban for child harassment and attempt of murder. All because he wanted a chocolate frog and Professor Snape refused to give any to him so he had to throw a temper tantrum."

"Alright, that was a bit far-fetched. It was not a chocolate frog," Draco huffed, folding his arms. "It was Mother's specialty chocolate. Severus knew Mother wouldn't have let me have any until the guests did. The moment those guests arrived, it was fair game."

Harry sighed. "Draco, why were you like this? Next thing I hear, you fired a chocolatier because he didn't make your cake right or something."

Theo laughed and smirked evilly. "That was actually a pretty close guess. Instead, let's just say Draco claimed that the Malfoy's top-notch chocolatier was a fraud and then began to list a bunch of reasons why he should not be getting paid as much money as he had been. It was an incredibly long list but the Malfoy family managed to receive a full reimbursement for all the money that they paid the chocolatier."

Pansy snickered. "Merlin, remember the deal that Draco ruined? That was hilarious."

"How about the stunt he pulled on Cornelius?" Blaise cackled. "That made my year. Mother couldn't help but agree."

"And he all got money from this?" Ron asked.

"Well it's no wonder the Malfoys are considered one of the most wealthy families in the Wizarding World then," Hermione marveled. "You have such an interesting source of income, Draco."

"And you're just giving these people reasons to hate you," Harry added.

"Let's all agree that Draco is just an idiot," Ron said. When receiving his glare, Ron only smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, mate, but it's true. We've just reminisced on all of your greatest moments, Draco."

Blaise nodded. "He's right. We can expose our blondie a little more next time. Let's get back to what you wanted to tell us. The good news you've avoided telling us of twice now."

Draco hated how quickly the subject changed.

And he hated how Harry's eyes glinted with a knowing sense. Draco sighed. He knew he had to get it over with sooner or later, and if his friends wanted to be the first to maim him, Draco also knew that Harry would be there to help him. The Gryffindor seemed to be in a semi-good mood at the moment. Draco's tales of adventure must've amused him. Knowing that Draco could be an absurd child must be amusing to him.

Draco opened his mouth to tell them about the Dark Lord, but all that came out was a choked cough and (thankfully) muffled retch. He turned his back to them, feeling like he was about to faint from the lack of oxygen, and covered his mouth with his hands. There was a clamor around him as the petals and flowers drifted down on their own, but Draco waved them off. He wiped his mouth with his forearm's sleeve, disgusting himself almost immediately.

He panted.

He should've known that it'd begin happening irregularly. He couldn't have just had it right before he woke up every morning for the rest of his life. These stupid flowers would've reacted randomly. Especially on the day that a whole bunch of shit happens to him.

Fucking flowers.

"Way to ruin the mood," Draco grumbled. He waved his wand, cleaning the mess he made quickly. When he turned back, everyone was wearing identical grim expressions. Annoyed, Draco rolled his eyes. "Would this be the worst time to say I know the Dark Lord is back for certain?"

His friends blanched.

"What?" Pansy asked in a mere whisper. "What did you say?"

"This is the worst possible timing, Draco," Harry groaned. "Bloody hell."

Chapter Text

To say that his friends were upset was an understatement. While Draco retold them what he told Sirius (but a little more in depth since he trusted them more), his friends were so quiet one could drop a pin and you'd hear it. However, when Draco ended his story, the room immediately burst into havoc. His friends yelled about different parts of his story for what seemed to be hours. Draco pretended to listen with great interest.

In reality, he was just grateful that they weren't yelling at him but for him.

They weren't pissed that he kept it from them (well, Pansy was) and they weren't angry that he tried to deal with it on his own (this time, Blaise was). Nor did they take great interest in his then-erased Dark Mark (well, Theo did this one).

Instead, they were upset that Draco continuously put himself in dangerous situations in which they wouldn't have been able to help if he hadn't told them just then. They were upset that Draco believed his Dark Mark dilemma wasn't as important as other things— like party planning or taking a break— and therefore needed to be pushed back.

Granted, Draco was most grateful to Harry.

Harry spoke up numerous times, filling in the gaps that Draco had accidentally left when explaining.

Had it not been for Harry, Draco definitely would've melted under the probing gazes of all of their friends.

Finally, after about an hour of ranting, Blaise relaxed his shoulders and took a physical step backwards. Following his lead, so did Pansy and Theo. As Ron and Hermione were already engaged in a pleasant-looking conversation with Harry, Draco knew he'd have to talk to his friends on his own. Funny how Draco could miss Harry's presence although he was right there.

"What do you suppose we do now?" Blaise asked quietly. "We have to definitely hide this from Vince and Greg. They'll go berserk if they learn of what you experienced— I know you don't like hiding things from them as much as I do, Draco. But let's keep them innocent for a bit longer."

"Unsurprisingly, I agree," Draco responded. He rolled up his left sleeve, staring at his milky white skin blankly. He remembered the countless number of times he stared at his arm, found dark ink, and desperately wished for it to be different. Now that it was his reality... "I won't be going back to the Manor. Mother already gave me all of my basic necessities, and Harry invited me to stay with him. He already made me promise."

"You're staying with Harry over summer?" Pansy asked.

"Well, yes. I did just say that to you."

"Why not take over the Le Havre—"

"I may have transferred its ownership to Le Havre."

Theo cursed. "What an idiot!"

"Well, I figured you three were right. People want to kill me. I shouldn't stay by myself," Draco lied. Theo sent him the 'bitch please' face. "Fine, I thought it was a good idea at the time. I went to Gringotts to strengthen the wards of the safehouse when I then realized that Harry would have more use for it than I did."

"Again: what an idiot."

"So I'll be staying with Harry," Draco concluded. He glanced towards Harry, who gave him an affirmative nod and soft smile.

Pansy sighed. "I have to admit, this might not be such a bad thing. Harry can cast a Patronus and let us know if anything goes wrong."

"Well, I still think he's an idiot," Theo hummed. Draco shot him a nasty glare that he ignored. "But, we should focus on other things. Like... what are we going to do? No one is going to believe us."

Draco blinked. "Us?"

"Surely you don't think I'm going to let you go alone."

Pausing, Draco let out a soft smile. "I get why Pansy loves you now."

Blaise sighed. "Draco, now is not the time to be exposing our friends' obvious attraction towards one another."

"You're right. My apologies."

But it was too late. Pansy and Theo's minds have finally caught up to what their friends said. They blushed, glanced at each other, and then quickly turned away. Blaise pursed his lips, throwing Draco the 'now you see what you've done?' look over his shoulder.

"Does the Dark Lord know that you are no longer within the circle?" Ron asked all of a sudden. Taking another look at his ring and figuring that he wouldn't, Draco turned towards him.

"I don't think so. Mother was incredibly careful, and she's a powerful Legilimens. She's been capable of hiding this heirloom and its effects. I doubt that the Dark Lord saw through it... Why do you ask?"

"Why not be a spy?" Ron suggested.

Draco blinked.

"Absolutely not!" Harry roared.

"He's not doing it!" Pansy hissed.

"That's a stupid idea!" Theo snapped.

"It'll get him killed!" Hermione protested

"Are you trying to get him killed, Ronald?" Blaise asked, eerily calm. He was probably planning to call the cleanup crew after Ron's totally-unexpected murder. And, by the looks that everyone else was shooting the indifferent ginger, the rest of their friends was willing to help him.

Draco stepped forwards. "Wait. Actually, that's not a bad idea."

"Draco, no!"

"Wait," Draco shushed.

He pulled the ring off his finger, taking the time to analyze it for the first time since he received it. Although the Black crest covered the diamond's crown, Draco noticed that the Dark Mark wasn't consumed. His Mark wasn't gone, it was stored. Which means... which means Draco can take it again. He wouldn't know for sure if he could take it off again, however. His mother hadn't mentioned anything.

Perhaps it's because she didn't know.

Perhaps Draco just had to find the answer on his own.

Perhaps he could do this. He already has all the necessary Occlumens and Legilimens techniques due to his mother's insistent training when he was younger. He's not too shabby when it came to dueling. He knows all the escape routes of the Malfoy Manor. There would be no better spy for Harry than Draco, and Draco knew it.

It was just a matter of whether or not Draco was willing to risk his life for him.

"Draco, you can't be serious. If you're caught," Hermione pleaded, "you'll be killed. You can't be thinking to do this."

Draco was.

Grabbing his cloak, Draco ignored her. "I'll be right back. I need to check something in the library."

"Draco wait—" Harry called out.

But Draco was already out of the room. He rushed all the way to the library, losing Slytherins five points in his haste. He stormed up to the second floor and waved his wand twice. As a neat stack of books appeared on one of the tables, Draco read the spines briefly, took the ones he deemed important, and fled just as quickly as he entered.

When Draco got back to his room, he altered the size of the bed and conjured a large round table. He set the books down, flipping them open mindlessly.

"Draco, what are you doing?" Pansy asked quietly, taking a step towards the table. "What are you looking for?"

His head snapping up, Draco conjured a few chairs. He gestured for all of his friends to sit down. "Give me a minute, Pans. I need to find out—"

"You're not going to spy," Harry repeated a bit dramatically.

"It's not your decision," Draco snapped back. He opened another book, scanning the contents and flipping to the proper page. He set his ring down, glancing back and forth between the book and his ring. When he found what he was looking for, Draco straightened his back and smiled. He clutched the ring tightly in his left arm. "Reditum."

Draco groaned as the Dark Mark returned on his arm.

"Draco!" all of his friends collectively cursed.

For the first time, Draco was pleased to see the Mark. He then put his index finger against his lips. "Watch this."

He carefully put the ring back on, smirking as the Dark Mark returned to where it came from. He ignored the pain that went along with it. Draco then removed the ring from his finger, grinning triumphantly as he looked up. "It's a transference ring. The Dark Lord can't tell that I don't have it if it's always with me. I can do it. What Ron said is not that bad of an idea. It'll be incredibly useful to have someone on the inside."

"No. You're not going to spy," Harry repeated. "I'm not letting you."

"Harry, you said that last time. I think you already know I'm not going to listen to you," Draco chuckled. He closed the books he's spread out, settling into one of the chairs himself.

"Then listen to me," Hermione said. "Draco, it's incredibly dangerous. And we're just kids. We can't do anything. Especially not something that is going to put you in danger."

"That's precisely why I am doing it. Like you said, we're children. However, adults wouldn't believe us even if the evidence was right in front of them. They're not going to do anything until it's too late. And by then, how many kids will already be dead? We need to plan ahead, learn information from the enemy, and use what we've learned against them. As much as it should be avoided, there will be a war," Draco responded coldly. He hated the very thought of any fighting; he always had. Every time violence was mentioned, he'd squirmed in his chair and looked away. But, if it came down to either him or somebody else, Draco would be damned if he didn't do anything. "And, honestly, I'll do anything I can to prevent anyone on our side from dying."

"Except yourself," Pansy muttered.

"One life is worth less than hundreds," Draco agreed. When Harry opened his mouth to argue, Draco was ready. "Don't you dare. You can't possibly wish to risk the lives of your family over mine. The Weasleys mean too much to you, and I already received the Mark." He glanced towards Pansy, Theo, and Blaise. "Therefore, it can't be any of you. You've never sat at the table before. The Dark Lord would know immediately. It needs to be me."

His friends were stunned to silence, but Draco knew that they would try to refute him if he stopped there.

"Mother has already trained me in Legilimency and Occlumency, and I already developed an immunity against the Cruciatus Curse. Father also repeats all information to me because he believes I will always zone out during the meetings and, if I get caught, all I have to do is mimic whatever my father does and then pretend to be dead. It'll be easy for me to escape as well."

His friends continued to stare at him quietly.

Draco fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. "Therefore, I'll return to the Manor over summer—"

"Draco," Harry warned.

"— and spy on the Dark Lord."

Blaise unexpectedly stood up from his chair, walked over towards Draco, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I knew you should've been in Gryffindor, you self-sacrificing, idiotic, ponce."

"Git," Draco snapped back. "So are we in agreement?"

"How are you supposed to let us know of things?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Hermione!" Harry hissed.

"Most likely by owl," Draco said. "Lyra will visit each of your houses every two weeks. I can say that I'm ordering chocolate or books. I'll teach you the spell that I'll use to conceal our messages."

"In that case, I'm in agreement."

"Hermione," Harry grit out.

"I know. But he's right. We can't wait. We need an advantage over Voldemort if we want to win the war, and Draco is the best person for it. I think that Draco stands a good chance."

"You can't really think that," Harry pleaded, sounding sick to his stomach. "There's a better plan, right? Ron? Pansy? Theo? Blaise? You can't all be thinking the same way."

"Sorry, mate."

"Draco. Please, you can't— you can't do this. You promised that you'd stay with me at the Dursleys."

"It's only two months. Don't be such a mother." Draco then clapped his hands twice. "Then it's settled. Over summer, I will return to the Manor and spy on the other side. I'll report to you via owl."

"And the Mark?" Blaise asked quietly.

"In the ring," Draco promised. "I won't take it back until the end of the school year. In the meantime, I'll figure out a way to convince the Dark Lord that I'm still on his side."

"Join the DA too," Ron muttered. "Harry teaches dueling technique in the Room of Requirement. It should help if anything goes wrong."

"I beg your pardon?" Draco coughed. "No, Harry teaching, I can see. It's no surprise Harry is good at DADA or that he'd do something so courteous for other students. But... what in Merlin's name is 'DA'? Or this 'Room of Requirement'?"

Hermione gasped. "Harry, you didn't tell him?"

"We swore to secrecy!"

"Yes, but I bet receiving the Dark Mark is supposed to be sworn to secrecy as well!"

Harry snapped. "I found out barely fifteen minutes before you did. Draco just came home—" the blond did not blush after thinking that perhaps Harry thought himself as Draco's 'home'— "and told me all about it about two hours ago. And then he got all sensitive when thinking that Sirius hated him so I mirrored him—"

"You what?!"

"— and then you all arrived with your wands blazing and Ron convinced Draco to spy on Voldemort!" Harry ended up shouting.

Draco stopped him there, smiling softly in Harry's general direction. "The DA. What is it, Harry?"

"It stands for 'Dumbledore's Army'," Harry muttered. "It's a dueling club that started it after Umbridge came. Hermione established it."

"Of course that's what it had to stand for. Couldn't it have been 'Defensive Arts', Harry?"

"That's actually the original name. Ginny just thought it'd piss Umbridge off."

Draco smirked. "Oh, and does it?"

"Draco, don't be an asshole," Theo muttered.

"Forgive me for wanting to annoy her. Umbitch has been the bane of my existence even before she came to Hogwarts. And, Harry, what is the Room of Requirement?"

The Idiot Duo Plus Hermione exchanged glances. Then, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment paper. "You have to sign first. All of you."

Draco blinked twice before taking the parchment. Barely hesitating, he'd signed it. Pansy, Theo, and Blaise quickly followed. "So what is it?"

"It's a room on the seventh floor," Harry explained. "On the left corridors. It's the main headquarters for the DA and it usually only appears when a person needs something. Another way to open it is to just walk past it thrice."

Then Hermione handed each of the four Slytherins galleons. When Draco looked closer, he realized it was one of those pseudo-galleons. The ones that you could charm to send messages. "Hermione, were you the one to charm these? It's incredible charm work."

"Thank you."

"Anyways, now that you know it, you can't tell anyone," Ron said, putting his hands into his pockets. "If you do, we'll know."

"If we do, we'll smite each other," Draco swore. "Slytherins, of all people, know how sacred some secrets are." Then he remembered an important part of his conversation with Harry. He'll somehow organize a party where Pansy and Hermione will happily get together with Theo and Ron. He could just imagine their happy, love-sick faces now. "Pansy. Hermione. I need your help to organize a Valentine's party."

"Why?" the girls asked.

Draco smirked. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into. "I just want to play the piano again."

Chapter Text

Although he knew he was missing an opportunity to watch Harry in his element, Draco did not go to any of the DA meetings. Instead, he distracted Umbitch by recreating elaborate schemes and drawing her away from the seventh floor every week or so. Draco was busy planning his next scheme with Harry when Cho Chang walked up to him.

Harry glanced towards him the moment she did so.

"Go ahead," Draco encouraged. He figured that Chang just wanted to know the date for the next DA meeting. Although Draco could've told her himself, she did not know that he actually knew about it. It would've been highly suspicious if he randomly spoke of it. "I'll bully you for your atrocious Potions habits later on."

"Thanks, Draco," Harry breathed gratefully. At that moment, Draco remembered that they actually did have an assignment in Potions that Harry had mentioned he had no idea how to do.

"I'll be in the library." Then he paused, nodding towards Chang. "Chang," he greeted politely.

"Malfoy."

Draco fiddled with his Black ring. "Your kin awaits, Harry."

Then, he turned on his heels and headed towards the library. Draco took a few books off the shelves, tracing the titles— 'Protection Charms Against Dark Curses', 'Potion Basic Understanding (OWL Preparation)', and 'Potions Ingredients And The Lasting Effects'. He plopped himself down in one of the chairs, reading the last book he picked up immediately. He was about halfway into the book when someone tapped his shoulder. Draco instinctively whipped his wand out, whirling around and regretting how his wand jabbed into the intruder's neck.

"Harry," Draco greeted. He drew his wand back. "My apologies. I didn't know it was you. I reacted without thinking."

Harry just smiled. "It's okay. What are you reading?"

"A book on potion ingredients," Draco replied brightly. He turned back towards his book, marking his spot. He sat down, his eyes gleaming with interest. "What did Chang want?"

Taking a seat beside Draco, Harry released a deep sigh. "I don't know. She just started talking about how the Hogsmeade weekend is also the Valentine's weekend. I thought she wanted to know the next day we're meeting but..."

Draco's chest squeezed painfully.

He knew exactly what Chang wanted.

"What do you think she wanted, Draco?" Harry asked innocently.

Ignoring the tightening in his throat, Draco laughed weakly. "Honestly, Harry, how can you be so daft? She wanted you to ask her to Hogsmeade."

Harry's face contorted. "What are you talking about?"

"I've finally realized why you aren't a Ravenclaw, Harry," Draco sarcastically commented. "She was subtly letting you know that she was available on Valentine's day, and she wanted to spend it with you at Hogsmeade."

"Well, I don't want to do that," Harry said. "I'd rather spend it with you."

The grip around Draco's throat loosened. "What do you mean?"

Harry rubbed the back of his nape. "The party you're planning, I mean. I liked hearing you play the piano and you said you wanted to do it again at the party. Well, after pushing Pansy and Theo together."

"And Hermione and Ron," Draco added. "If they could all just remove the stick up their arses, that would be perfect."

"If Ron gets stupidly drunk, I'm going to hex him for worrying Mione," Harry agreed. Draco was glad that Harry stopped denying the obvious.

"What an idiot. Why would Ron trying to sabotage his chances with Hermione? He clearly cares for Hermione and if he didn't have such a stick up his arse after Viktor took her to the Yule Ball, they would've been happy by now."

Harry hummed in agreement.

"Still, I think you should go to Hogsmeade with Chang. The party won't start until much later anyways."

"I'd rather help out." Harry shrugged. "Cho's not my type anymore anyways."

"Oh?"

"There's someone else."

Draco cursed. 'Thanks for the flowers, Harry.'

"In that case, you should ask the person you fancy to Hogsmeade. Valentine's only comes once a year and a little bit of fun won't hurt anyone, Harry," Draco insisted. He tried not to be hurt when he thought about a girl occupying Harry's mind like Harry occupies Draco's. He managed to hide his eyes, which would've certainly given him away, and smirk. "Just bring me a box of chocolates."

Harry huffed out a low laugh. "I know. I can't though."

Draco cocked his head to the left. "Why not? I didn't peg you to be a coward."

"I'm not being cowardly. The bloke's already taken."

"Bloke?"

"Yeah."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "It's not Blaise, is it? Because I swear: if you try to take Blaise away from Cassius after all that hard work I put into getting them together, I will hex you, put you in a coffin, and bury you alive."

"Why would it be Blaise?" Harry asked, flabbergasted by Draco's accusation and not really looking concerned for his own safety. "He's not the only bloke I know."

No, but Blaise is the most attractive of all the blokes he knew. Draco remembered Pansy complaining about it during their make-up-for-Christmas party. She said something about how ridiculously, unfairly hot Blaise was while he and Draco walked into the Common Room. Theo had been all mopey too. He was probably angry that Pansy didn't notice him. (Well, she did, she just wouldn't admit it to him of all people. A woman has her pride after all.)

"I suppose you're more likely to fancy Ron than Blaise," Draco sighed. "My apologies. I've always been overprotective when it comes to Blaise. We've been friends a long time."

"I know. Blaise told me about how you guys met once," Harry replied. "And, no worries, it's definitely not Blaise. He's not my type."

Draco arched a brow. "Blood status and inheritance aside, he's a brilliant wizard, amazing Quidditch player, master of the violin, loyal without faults, and honorable when it comes to his word. Are you sure he's not your type?"

Harry fidgeted. "Alright, fine. When it comes to a type, he is. But it's not him. I swear it, Draco."

He hummed. "Alright. I believe you then. You should still ask the person you fancy to Hogsmeade on Valentine's."

"Are you going to Hogsmeade?"

Draco laughed. "Merlin's beard, no. Of course not. I have a party to plan and you already said you'd bring me back a box of chocolates. I don't need anything from Hogsmeade."

"I never said that."

"Are you denying my request for chocolates, Harry? I thought we were getting to be friends. Why are you betraying me like this?"

As expected, Harry caved. "I can't believe you, you dramatic sweet-tooth. Fine, I'll bring you chocolates. Do you want me to bring back something else?"

Draco looked up, thinking hard about it. Finally, he just said, "No. Just come back safely." Then he closed his book, taking the Potion OWL preparation book into his hands. Draco passed it to Harry. "Here. If I ever miss anything, you can always check in here."

"Thanks, Draco," Harry replied, his voice soft. "And... I can't go to Hogsmeade anyways. I need to make sure that... that they're okay in France."

Draco sighed. Just a few days ago, he and Harry went to the Grimmauld place together. After a semi-stiff exchange between Draco and Sirius, Remus put a reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder and handed him a piece of chocolate. Then, they all flew to the Le Havre grounds, where Draco taught Harry how to add keys for specific people into the wards. Draco quietly gave them the tour, deliberately explaining the portraits upon the wall that Remus took an interest in and giving advice as to how to avoid or defend themselves against those criminals. Remus looked faint-hearted while Sirius snickered with every embarrassing story of Draco’s childhood endeavors that Harry whispered to him under his breath.

"Harry, they're alright. I promised you you'd feel it if they weren't."

"I know. But... what if I get there too late?"

"Instead of flying all the way to France, why don't you mirror him?" Draco suggested. Harry smiled weakly.

"Right. I forgot about that." Harry paused. "If there was something that happens though..."

"I'll go with you."

"Thanks."

Draco returned to his book, smiling as he did so. He was glad that this was the first book he read willingly. When he felt eyes on him, Draco looked up. It was Harry, smiling. "Yes?"

"Nothing," Harry replied quickly.

He must still be worried about Sirius and Remus.

Draco sighed, reaching over and putting a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "You should mirror him now, Harry. Not here though. I don't reckon that everyone will be happy to hear about your godfather's identity."

Harry's ears perked up and he looked towards Draco happily, only for his expression to fall just as quickly as it'd risen. "What about—"

"I'll find you before dinner. Just make sure you don't go wandering off the grounds."

"And the homework?" Harry asked.

"I'll make it a little obvious that I did it for you," Draco joked.

Harry beamed, a sight that Draco wished he could see every day for the rest of his life. But the bloke was not his.

"Thanks, Draco. I'll make sure to grab two boxes the next Hogsmeade weekend."

Like he promised, Draco went around the entire castle to find Harry about half an hour before dinner. A few people shot him suspicious glances, but the blond couldn't really care when he was on a mission. He was about to give up when he wandered onto the Quidditch Pitch and a gleam stabbed Draco's eyes. The blond shut one eye, trying to find the source of the gleam and letting out an exaggerated sigh when he saw Harry lounging around. Well, he was lying down on the grass nearby on of the Slytherins' bleachers.

He looked like he was still talking to Sirius.

Draco made his way towards the bleachers and, right before he could call out Harry's name, Sirius's voice cut him off.

"—is he the Lily to your James?" Sirius was asking quietly.

Draco froze where he stood, managing to conceal his prescience somehow. He knew that he shouldn't be listening in on their private conversation, but he couldn't help himself for wishing to do so. Well, worst case scenario, he'll just tell Harry that it was his fault for talking to his godfather for so long and having the hearing capabilities of a deaf walrus.

"I want him to be," Harry responded. His voice was quiet, yet determined. Draco's breath caught in his lungs. For a split, ridiculous moment, Draco hoped Harry was speaking of him. "There's something about him that... that won't let me look away. He's... he's special. Not only to me, but to so many others. I'd do anything for him to see himself the way that I do. He's kind, brilliant, loyal... Merlin, and he's bloody gorgeous, Sirius. How could I not want him to be?"

'Ah. They're talking about the bloke Harry fancies.'

"If I could hide him from everything horrible in this world, I would."

Draco's heart thudded loudly against his chest. He couldn't believe his awful luck. Draco squeezed his eyes tightly, hoping that the burning would just stop. He muffled his groans by covering his mouth and trying to breathe through his nose.

"That's what your father said about your mother once." Sirius let out a soft, tearful laugh. Merlin, if that wasn't a major stab to the chest. "I wish you luck then."

"There is no luck that I need. He's... he loves someone else."

Harry sounded so pitiful, Draco decided to spare him from his own depressive attitude. He coughed out a flower or two to relieve himself of the pressure and made his steps louder in case Harry didn't notice that he was there.

As expected, Harry sat up, turning his way almost immediately. "Draco. Hey."

"It's awfully chilly, Harry," Draco said. Doubling up on both of their warming charms, he pretended to look towards Harry's hand. "Is that Sirius? Is there something wrong? You've been out here for a long time."

"No. I, uh, Sirius just missed talking to me."

Sirius snorted. Draco sat down beside Harry, humming. "Right. Regardless, is everything alright in France, Sirius? Whispy and Vicky aren't causing you trouble, I hope?"

"No. Though... they somehow learned that Remus was a werewolf and started giving him raw meat."

"That's just the wards. They like to let the house-elves know of any details they may have accidentally overlooked," Draco informed, smiling. "Is there anything you're planning to do with Professor— with Remus for Valentine's?"

Sirius shook his head. "Not really."

"What did you used to do with Remus?" Draco asked. "Before you got married?"

Harry coughed. "I'm sorry. 'Married'?"

"Honestly, Harry. How are you this oblivious?"

"Not as oblivious as you," Harry grumbled. Draco rolled his eyes. "Also, I barely learned they were together a month ago. How was I supposed to know they were married?"

"Harry, Remus literally wears a necklace with the Sirius constellation on it."

"He still wears it?" Sirius asked, a shy expression unfit for a thirty-year-old man taking over his face. Draco face-palmed.

"... I see where you get it from... Sirius, you should plan a surprise for Remus. I know you've missed a bit of time together— no thanks to Wormtail, sadly— and the wards will protect you while you're out. The goblin magic should hide you from magical beings as well."

"You know, Harry mentioned to me about how you're invested in others' love lives," Sirius said quietly. "Just like Narcissa."

"Like my mother?" Draco perked up. Then he cleared his throat. "And I'm not invested, I'm just encouraging. For example, Harry has this bloke he fancies. I'm encouraging him to ask the bloke to Hogsmeade."

"Oh really," Sirius dead-panned. Harry squirmed where he sat.

"Am I... missing something?"

"No. Why would you be?"

Draco blinked. "Well, alright then."

"What's that on your sleeve, Draco?" Sirius asked unexpectedly. Draco looked down, surprised that Sirius could have noticed something so easily through the mirror.

"Just a bit of blood. It's alright," he assured. Then, feeling Harry's eyes on him, Draco bit the inside of his cheek. "Mine, in case you worried otherwise."

"I'd rather have preferred it to be someone else's," Sirius cursed. His statement surprised Draco. He's barely known his second cousin, and Sirius already felt protective over him? It was rather strange. "What the hell happened to you?"

Draco glanced towards Harry. Harry looked absolutely miserable. "You didn't tell him, Harry?"

"I didn't know if you wanted me to tell him or not."

"He's your godfather, of course you should tell him," Draco insisted. "Besides, nearly ten people already know. What's two more?" Then he paused, realizing that they probably wouldn't have known who Draco was referring to unless Draco told them. "Remus too, obviously."

"Right," Harry said quickly. "But it's not going to... you know... hurt you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. He believed the correct word Harry was looking for was 'offend'. "Originally, it was humiliating, but I don't really mind anymore."

"Alright then." Harry cleared his throat. "So... Draco, here, is... sick."

"I think he can see that, you ridiculous toe-rag." Draco smirked when Sirius snorted.

Harry huffed. "Git. He's sick by love, Sirius."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Then beg." Draco froze, covering his mouth almost immediately. "My apologies. I didn't mean to say that. It's been my friends' way of communicating ever since first year, and I didn't mean to insult you."

Sirius, who had frozen, started laughing. "No, no. It's alright. What does Harry mean?"

Draco nodded shakily. "Harry, let me take over the explanation. All you've done is made him confused."

"Well, there's really no other way of explaining it."

Draco pursed his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. "Sirius, I have the Hanahaki disease. In simple terms, I am cursed to suffocate on my own affections for the person I fancy. The flowers grow in my lungs, which makes it a bit hard for me to breathe and forces me to cough them out at certain times. There are several ways to cure me, but—"

"Draco likes things the way they are," Harry cut in. "He won't even consider any of them."

"Merlin, Harry, don't you think he'd have liked to hear the solutions first?"

"It doesn't matter. You're not going to do it anyways."

Draco sighed. Harry was, technically, right. "Fine. I am doomed to die."

Sirius remained quiet. "I noticed you didn't say a name, Draco."

"He doesn't know who it is," Harry said. 'It's you,' Draco thought stubbornly. "It's just that he loves the person so much he's willing to die for them."

"There are many people I'd like to die for. Of course I wouldn't have known who it is," Draco grumbled. "I hope you're not still grumpy I'm planning on going back to the Manor, Harry."

"Wait. If you're sick, why are you going to the Malfoy Manor, Draco? Pup said you'd be staying with him. Until I get cleared of my charges at least."

Draco blinked. There was evidence in Harry's mother's letter. Why didn't Harry use it to save his godfather? "I'll explain the next time we visit. It's not something we can just talk about in public," Draco said slowly.

"It can't be that bad. I mean, you can't be planning to spy on Voldemort or something like that. That'd be stupid," Sirius chuckled. When there was no reply, Sirius flipped out. "What?!"

"I know, right?" Harry asked glumly. "He can't be talked out of it."

"Draco, I swear to Merlin and and all four Hogwarts Founders, if you do such a stupid thing—what does Cissy have to say about this? Is she in agreement?"

"Of course not," Draco insisted. "She'll never let me do it."

"And for good reason! Voldemort's going to torture you!"

"He won't do anything if he doesn't know that I'm spying," Draco responded. "Besides, I've become immune to the Cruciatus Curse and am somewhat skilled at Legilimens and Occulumens. Mother said so, and she's quite brilliant herself."

Sirius's eyes narrowed, his irises becoming more cold and mean than Draco could've ever imagine him having. It was a look more fit for his father, not for Harry's wrongly-accused-of-mass-murder godfather. "Kid, I don't like you being 'immune' to the Cruciatus Curse."

"Why not?"

"Yeah, why not?" Harry asked curiously. "At least he won't feel anything if something happens you know. Not that I approve of you going back."

Draco decidedly ignored him.

"Because," Sirius cut in, "no one is immune. They can built up a tolerance, yes, but it takes years and years of enduring the curse to do so. How long have you thought that you were 'immune', kid?"

"About six years, Sirius."

Sirius blanched. "Six?" he echoed in a hushed tone. "Nine years old. You were nine years old when you—"

"When I realized it didn't hurt me anymore," Draco agreed. Draco didn't really know why, but... "Father had been especially pleased when he found out."

"Lucius did this?" Sirius whispered. "And Cissy let him?"

"Well, my mother doesn't really know. Father had asked me to keep it a secret when I turned six and he started training me. He said that I would surprise her one day."

"Surprise her? You'll ruin her."

"I don't understand. What are you... what are you implying?"

Then, as though Sirius had opened Harry's mind, Harry turned towards Draco with a storm in his eyes. "You aren't going back to the Malfoy Manor, Draco."

Draco was going to go regardless of whether or not Harry was going to let him. However, he was a bit curious why Harry brought it up again.

"Why not?" Draco asked.

"Becausef Lucius isn't put into Azkaban soon, I'll throw him in there myself," Sirius growled. Draco blinked. Although his father certainly was a stubborn bastard, it didn't mean that his father deserved to be put into Azkaban. But, judging by how determined Sirius and Harry both appeared, he knew that convincing them would take a bit too much energy and time that he did not have.

"Harry," Draco muttered quietly. "I originally meant to tell you that dinner was starting soon. Will you please say your goodbyes before everyone starts barging out here and demanding explanations?"

Harry's eyes flashed dangerously, but he obeyed. Draco must've struck a nerve because they didn't speak until they reached the Great Hall. But, even then, all Harry said to him was a coarse 'bye'. Curious and confused, Draco turned towards the Slytherin table, completely missing the way red-hot rage filled the atmosphere.

"R.O.R. Tomorrow evening. DADA planning," Pansy whispered to him quietly. Draco nodded.

"I think I pissed Harry off."

"Don't worry, Draco," Theo smirked. "I'm sure he'll forgive you for whatever it is that you did. Everything will be fine."

Draco looked down to his empty plate, his mind thinking back to his conversation with Sirius. "I hope so."

Chapter Text

Theo liked to think that he was a good man with semi-good features. After all, someone needed to be neutral enough to console his crazy best friends when they do crazy things. Blaise was completely off the table; he was absolutely obsessed over keeping Draco safe and anything hinting towards the slightest bit against that will certainly perish. Pansy was incredibly similar to that, but she would kill everyone and then herself if anything happened to him. She said it to Theo once while she was under the influence of veritaserum so of course he would remember that. And Draco... there was a bit too much to unpack with him.

For one, he couldn't see love if it smacked him across the face.

For another, Theo knew that Draco wasn't to blame for the previous statement. Lucius Malfoy was a strange man, showering Draco with gifts yet remaining absent and declaring that it's love. And although Narcissa's love was plenty, it was not enough for Draco to actually know and see it.

And Theo hates that because the Hanahaki disease could've been done and over with if Draco was in love with Harry.

"What are you thinking about?" Pansy whispered.

Theo snapped out of it, stepping aside when he realized he nearly crashed into another student walking in the opposite direction. "Nothing."

"You looked sick. It's not 'nothing'," Ron snorted.

"I always look sick," Theo snickered. "It's a trait that I've had since I was a young lad."

"No one even uses 'lad' anymore, mate."

"You're both right," Blaise said. "You do look a bit sick though, Theo. Are you alright?"

Theo sighed. "Of course I'm not. Who's idea was it to pick up an extreme load of scrolls from the library?"

"Ours," Pansy and Hermione both responded.

"Of course it was." Then, under Pansy's questioning gaze, he caved. Sometimes, the witch was too beautiful and perceptive for her own good. Well, maybe it was just because Theo had absolutely no resolve when she was involved. "Fine. The truth is, I was thinking about how everything would be much easier if Draco loves Harry."

Absolute silence.

"I know it sounds stupid, but... Harry obviously cares a lot about Draco. Not any more than we do, but there's just something different in the way Harry looks at him. There's always been something different. Harry smiles more with Draco, I guess. He looks like he wants to just be with him forever."

"You're not wrong," Ron replied quietly. "Did you know Harry used to just stare at him across the Great Hall? "

"Yes. Draco used to do the same," Blaise responded for Theo. "It used to annoy the hell out of Pansy."

"Of course. Harry looked like he was going to kill Draco. I hated seeing it."

"Harry wouldn't. He just thought that Draco was a major git," Hermione consoled. "Or that he was 'up to something', for a reason I could never understand."

Pansy snorted. "The only things he was up to back then was obsessing over cleaning his room, nagging at us to do something worthwhile, and chocolate tasting. Well, he also spent his time messing around with charm mechanics."

"And talking about Harry," Blaise added. "If I remember correctly, Draco used to say this, 'Stupid Potter and his stupid green eyes and his stupid scar and his stupid broom'. It was so amusing, Slytherins changed the password to that exact saying for a month during second year. They only changed it after Draco bribed them with new brooms."

"I thought he bought his way onto the team," Ron muttered.

Theo, and Blaise and Pansy obviously, gasped at the insult. "Ron, have you seen Draco fly? He would've been on the Quidditch team regardless of whether or not he bought the team new brooms. Hell, he could've been a Beater or Chaser too if he wasn't so obsessed over beating Harry to the Snitch," Theo hissed.

Ron clicked his tongue. "Neville's Remembrall."

"And he wasn't even trying," Theo said solemnly. "If he was playing as Beater or Chaser this year, he would definitely bring Slytherin to their inevitable victory."

"He can't possibly earn Slytherin 150 points more than every other team every game."

"Clearly, you didn't see him play against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff in third year," Pansy grumbled. Then she looked up, smiling. "This is it, right? The room we're meeting Draco and Harry in?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, smiling as well. "I think Harry would be pleased with what we have prepared. Draco too. Maybe they could decide on what defensive technique we can teach for the DA next."

"Merlin, I hope Draco wouldn't ask for a private demonstration," Blaise mimicked a barf.

"Blaise, you're much more stupid than I thought," Pansy hissed, smacking his arm. "Draco wouldn't need additional help. He'll blow us all away with how quickly he gets it."

Hermione scowled slightly. "I hope he doesn't just take a look at whatever Harry shows him and just does it."

Pushing the door open slightly, Theo grinned. "Who wants to bet that he will do just that—"

"My father loves me!" Draco's voice boomed. Theo stepped in, his eyes wide when he saw the fat, ugly tears rolling down Draco's cheeks. Draco was clutching onto his wand so tightly, his knuckles looked pained from the strain, but it wasn't raised. He looked more defeated and terrified than the anger that Theo remembered feeling whenever Harry was mentioned during first to fourth year. And, Theo didn't know if this was a good thing or not, he looked completely unaware of his friends' arrivals.

All of theme froze in their tracks. And whatever they were arguing about— Lucius Malfoy apparently— it couldn't have been good. Theo couldn't even remember the last time they fought over anything. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time he saw Draco cry.

"Your father hurt you!" Harry screamed back. He, on the other hand, was not crying at all. He looked nothing if not absolutely livid. However, Theo could tell that he was just as upset as Draco was. "That's not love! He doesn't love you!"

At that, Theo felt a flicker of anger rising in his chest. No matter how good of a friend Harry was, he had no right to say something like that to Draco. Especially to Draco.

Hermione, bless her soul for being so thoughtful in this insane situation, closed the door behind them.

As more tears escaped, Draco gasped. "You're wrong! He didn't torture me, he was teaching me! He loves me!"

"He crucioed you! It's an Unforgivable! How is that love?"

Lucius did what?

The flicker of anger Theo felt towards Harry shifted and aimed towards Lucius. Even the thought of the bastard doing the slightest bit of harm to his best friend pained him.

Draco shook his head. "He did it to protect me! He did it to make sure that I don't feel anything when I'm bloody kidnapped, tortured for information, and held for ransom! My father knew what he was doing; he knew that it was illegal, but he put himself on the line anyway! It was a necessary sacrifice—"

"Don't you talk to me about sacrifice!" Harry bellowed. "I've lost too many fucking people already, Draco, and you would know because you've humiliated me about it for years! 'Ooh, Scarhead with the permanent reminder of his parents sacrificing themselves and leaving him orphaned on the doorsteps of his asshole Muggle relatives! How's life, Potty?' I was a fucking one year old! And I witnessed my parents dying because of the same bloody asshole that your fucking parents are following! So don't you talk to me about sacrifice. Don't you ever talk to me about sacrifice, Malfoy. Don't you fucking dare. At least you have a father— even if that bastard only loves you as his heir, not as his son."

After panting for breath, Harry looked like he just realized what he said because he stopped pacing immediately. His eyes were wide as he stared dumbly at Draco's crumbling face. The blond remained silent.

Theo panicked. 'Anything', he begged silently, 'Draco, please do something. Make fun of him. Call him 'Potter' back. Shout about how you weren't trying to talk about sacrifice with Harry. Even better: hex the living crap out of him. Just get rid of that horrified, yet exhausted face.'

Theo was ready to speak up, but Harry beat him to it.

"Draco, I— wait—"

Draco did not wait.

He hastily wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, storming out of the Room of Requirement and refusing to acknowledge the five of them as he passed by. The moment the door slammed shut, Pansy sicced herself on Harry.

"What the fuck, Harry?" she hissed. She got all up in his face, raising her hand to provide a powerful slap against his cheek. But, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Pansy dropped her hand instead, turning away. She put her scrolls on top of Theo's stack. Which, by the way, was incredibly unfair. He already had a stack of his own. "Some friend you are."

That was a low blow, but Theo saw how pained Harry felt at her words.

As Pansy stormed out to follow Draco, Hermione put her books on the table in a disapproving manner. "Harry..."

Harry turned away from her, leaning over and pressing his hands down on the table's surface. His head hung with shame. "Go," he muttered finally. "All of you can go."

While Theo placed his scrolls down on the table gingerly, Hermione, Ron, and Blaise all turned their backs on him, clearly too furious to realize that they should've placed their items down as well. Harry flinched when the door slammed behind them. Then, Theo stepped towards him.

"Why are you still here?"

"I want to talk to you," Theo replied truthfully.

Harry laughed drily. "Is that a new term for hexing the crap out of me? If so, I have bad news for you: I already know I'm an arse. I want to hex myself in private. Leave me alone."

Theo remained quiet.

There were so many reasons why Theo should leave: they're from opposite Houses, Harry hurt Draco, he insulted the Malfoy name... and among other things of course. Not to mention how Theo should be with Draco, telling him to calm down and to hex Harry the next time he sees him. Yet, at the same time, there was one reason stopping Theo from leaving.

"Harry, you're right about Lucius," Theo said, taking another step forwards. Harry whirled around, his eyes so full of pain and anger that Theo could've sworn he saw tears bordering his eyelids. "He doesn't love Draco. In fact, Lucius wouldn't even look his way if Draco wasn't the Malfoy heir. And Draco knows this."

"Then why didn't he admit it?" Harry asked, his voice even more harsher. Then his eyes softened. "Why couldn't he admit it?"

"Harry..." Theo sighed. "What do you know about pureblood culture?"

"Not much. My dad died before he could teach me anything. Or maybe he did, but I've lost whatever memory I have of him."

Theo nodded solemnly. "And you can't blame that on Draco."

"I didn't!" Harry growled.

He held up a hand. "You did. You know that Draco always jumps to the deepest end of the pool. And the moment you mentioned Lucius, you made him think like he was completely unloved."

"That's not true. I lo—" Harry cut himself off. His cheeks reddened and he looked away. Theo sighed.

"I already know. Don't worry."

"Then why did you say that? Why'd you say that Draco thinks he's not loved?"

"For purebloods, any speech of family is sensitive. Draco telling you anything regarding his mother and father is like him giving you a rope to hang him with," Theo explained slowly, hesitating for a split moment. "We purebloods know that we aren't treated with as much affection as children of other bloods. We're raised to be dignified, to be leaders, and to be the best. Draco feels the last more than all of us combined. He's of Malfoy and Black blood— the two most prominent families for their incredible magic, political achievements, and money. He's the perfect breed of all of that, if you will. And that's how Lucius expects him to exceed those impossible expectations. It's either perfection or failure."

"So you're saying you're okay with his father crucioing him on a daily basis?

"No. I'm saying Draco's been raised in a way that tells him he needs to be perfect. As much as I hate thinking it, if it means he needs to be able to withstand the curse..." Theo couldn't bring himself to finish that statement. Every fiber of his being wanted to storm towards wherever Lucius was and put him under a Cruciatus curse so bad, he'd wished he never pointed his wand in Draco's general direction.

"Well, Draco's perfect enough," Harry muttered lowly.

"'Enough is never enough'," Theo replied dutifully. "That's the first thing he was taught as a kid. He couldn't be good enough, he couldn't be well enough. He had to be perfect. No 'enough' following it. And if Draco couldn't be that, he was not loved. That is the way that the Malfoys, Blacks, and most pureblood families are."

"Your families are full of bullshit!"

Theo glared. "Watch it. I'm explaining Draco's perspective and here you are disrespecting our lineage."

"Sorry."

Harry did not sound sorry at all.

But, Theo knew he was listening so he continued.

"Everything comes with a price to us, Harry," Theo said lowly. "And, Draco has been unable to pay that price for a long time. He hasn't been perfect for a long time, and he knows that. Lucius had no obligation to give Draco something he did not pay for."

"Draco is his son. Lucius should love him even without him being perfect," Harry growled.

Fucking word. But... "Not in our world, Harry. That's not how it works in our world."

Harry's head hung again. "I fucking hate this. I hate seeing him cry."

So does Theo. "I know."

"I hate making him cry. Yesterday, I was just so angry when I learned that Draco was forced to become tolerant against the most painful curses of all curses. And I tried not to blow up on him, but when he started talking about how it was a privilege that not many had... I lost it. I don't even know why I said what I said."

Theo nodded. "I know."

"I just don't want him to go back. If he gets hurt..." Harry shook himself of the thought. "I can't— none of us can afford to lose him, Theo. If we lose him, I don't know what I can do."

Merlin, if Draco was in love with Harry, he'd be fine in a mere instant. Theo could only hope that it ended up being this remorseful arse all along.

"I know."

"And I don't know how to tell him that without hurting his pride in some way. I know he can protect himself. He's bloody brilliant, of course he can. I know that he can give us that advantage that we need. But if he's found out? Merlin, I can't. I won't let him go with the possibility of that remaining."

"Tell him that," Theo requested softly. "Say it precisely like that and he'll understand. He'll back off, Harry, I promise."

"No," Harry scoffed, "no, he won't. If there’s something we have in common, it's out stubbornness."

"He'll think about backing off then. If it's you, he'll listen," Theo replied confidently. "You're the one with the most against it. If you explain your side of it, he'll listen. It's a trait that Narcissa instilled in him from a long time ago."

Harry lifted his head. "His mother sounds like she's better than Lucius."

At that, Theo let out a bright laugh. "Narcissa? She has a better personality than all generations of Malfoys combined."

Harry smiled.

About half an hour later (mainly because Theo started talking with Harry about defensive techniques that their friends had brought with them), Theo tailed Harry secretly. He followed Harry into the library, where he almost immediately finds Draco alone. It was a bloody miracle with how upset Pansy and the rest of their friends had been. Theo crept close enough until he was able to hear and see their conversation.

"Draco?" Harry asked quietly. Draco glanced upwards for the slightest of fractions. "I... I want to apologize. I'm sorry for saying those things about you. I didn't mean it. I don't think of you like that, not anymore. And I just... I... can I show you something?"

Ah, instilling curiosity. Draco was never one to ignore his need to sate it. It was a brilliant play on Harry's part. "Why?"

"I'm not really good at talking if you can't already tell."

Draco narrowed his eyes, but nodded. Harry breathed out a sigh of relief, and he quietly led Draco to a nearby table. He gets down on his hands and knees, sitting underneath the table instead of on one of the chairs. "Harry?"

"Join me," Harry urged.

Glancing around, Draco crawled beside him and Theo cursed because he couldn't see what they were looking at.

"Oh."

"I found it a few months ago. It's one of the only things I have of them."

Draco looked as though he was tracing something on one of the table legs. "And?"

"And my mom wrote about how she loved my dad in that letter from Gringotts." Theo had no idea what he was talking about. "She said that if they didn't make it, she wanted me to know that she hoped I was happy and safe."

"Your mother sounds lovely."

"She is. And you were the one to make sure that I had the second thing. After you transferred the Le Havre place to me—" 'You really did it, you lil' piece of shit?'— "I wanted to do the same for you. And I... I can't be sure of whether or not you will be if you go back. I'm sorry I overreacted. When I heard what Sirius said, I got pissed."

Draco nodded slightly, which was a fairly good sign. "I have to admit that he surprised me."

"He did?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he... made me realize many things that day."

"Oh."

"... I suppose I have to apologize as well. I know it won't bring them back, but... it doesn't mean I can't be sorry for the life you can't have."

"You don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault."

"No, but you were right, Harry. My father does follow the Dark Lord's beliefs," Draco confessed. "And I know he doesn't love me in a way that matters. But he's still my father. It was my duty to defend him."

"I would've done the same," Harry replied. "I'm not sorry for offending him though. The only Malfoy I care about is you."

Theo's jaw dropped. He didn't think that Harry would confess to Draco. Honestly, he thought Harry would've thought to be a bit more romantic or something, but this was alright too. They are alone after all, and Theo supposed it would be sort of romantic to bond over their regrets... No. No, it is not. 'What in Merlin's name are you thinking, you stupid Gryffindor?'

"And your mom, I guess. Since she cares about you too," Harry continued. Theo let out a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding in. "We've just gotten to be friends and I don't want to lost you just because we weren't patient enough to find another option. I don't want to realize that I— that everyone lost you because you didn't send us a sign after two weeks. I don't want to depend on owls or coins to talk to you."

"You just want us to wait then? Until we know for certain?" Draco asked quietly.

"Yes. Just until it's certain we can't do something else," Harry replied.

Nodding slowly, Draco said, "That sounds fair."

"So you'll do that? Wait until it's final?"

"I'll prepare myself just in case though," Draco assured. Harry nodded.

"And I didn't just say sorry because I wanted you to—"

"I know, Harry. You're not like that. I accept your apology." He slowly got out from underneath the table, holding out a hand for Harry to take. "Let's go stop Pansy and Blaise from planning your murder."

Taking it, Harry laughed lightly. "We should probably find Hermione and Ron too. They're most likely planning their speech for my funeral."

"Theo could lower your coffin." Draco smirked. "So he could let you down like he used to let me down during Potions class."

Harry laughed, not even thankful for Theo's help. "He'll be the one to pull me back up, Draco." 'Aww. I always had faith in the bastard,' Theo thought happily. "Thank you, Draco, for listening and deciding to wait I mean."

"Of course."

Chapter Text

Some things are better done than said.

Which is why Draco liked to fall silent. He liked to listen to his friends talk without him, to feel like he's witnessing their friendship from beyond the grave. He would snap back when Harry nudged him or when everyone turned to him expectantly. He would say something that was relevant to the two topics before or answer their unspoken question mindlessly, and then he would watch as they talk again. After that weird argument between him and Harry left him feeling just a bit sicker on the inside, Draco found that he had the most peace while he watched them communicate from afar.

The first time he fell silent though, Draco was completely unaware of it. They were sitting in Draco's rooms— the unspoken new meeting room of theirs after that fight in the Room of Requirement— when Pansy and Hermione were about done organizing the Valentine's party and Draco just blanked out. He found himself leaning back on his chair and smiling. Unexpectedly, Harry asked him if there was something wrong.

"You haven't been talking," Harry informed when Draco just asked him a question in return. "Are you tired?"

Although he knew it was a bit weak, Draco smiled. "Just a bit. It's not bad."

"We'll hurry up," Hermione assured.

Draco directed his smile to her and pretended like everything was going to be okay.

But, Draco knew he was getting worse.

Something about that argument with Harry made Draco feel like he was getting rejected and accepted by the Gryffindor at the same time. Those two contrasting feelings ripped into his soul, tearing a clear pathway for the flowers to grow at a more accelerated speed. So now, Draco didn't wake up to flowers. He woke up because of them.

And he couldn't tell any of his friends because they would get it into their head that Harry felt the same way or something, and then when the truth is revealed, Draco would have to witness Harry's frustrated and angry expression moments before he died. Harry was going blame himself and wallow in the pits of his despair if that happens.

Draco wasn't stupid.

Besides, Draco has known for a long time that he was dying.

Just... it'd been slow originally. A petal or two would show up and to remind him of his mortal peril. Then, as time went on, more and more petals came into his life until they finally bloomed into whole flowers that pained Draco more than he'd like to admit. And as Harry's place in his life appeared more and more permanent, Draco got smacked in the face with his feelings and jump-started the bloody curse.

So maybe that's why Draco was content with watching and listening to his friends talk.

They seemed so happy, Draco felt like they would be truly alright after his death. Whenever he wasn't listening in, Draco liked to conjure a series of endless images of their futures: Ron and Hermione with their young children in a lovely cottage, Pansy and Theo escaping into the French beaches, Blaise (and maybe Cassius, Draco wasn't all too sure yet) dazzling everyone with his clothing line, Vince and Greg shocking everyone with their interesting choice of study— despite their shortcomings, they'd be brilliant Curse Breakers— and Harry would be with that mysterious bloke he was in love with. The last thought often hurt him enough to throw him into another coughing fit, but Draco knew that Harry's sort of future was inevitable.

Harry was the hero of this story; he always gets his love interest and his happy ending.

And Draco just hoped that he would live long enough to see it start.

The first three days of Draco just listening to his friends' conversation passed by without the slightest hitch. Pansy had originally thought there was something wrong with him, but Draco was quick to soothe her worries by saying that he was worried about the grade he'd receive in Charms. After that, Harry just quietly led him to their table in the library and let him sit there, quietly admiring the carvings, instead of wallowing in his silence. And each time they returned, the subject was completely forgotten.

But, by the fourth day, his friends were more than a little worried about his strange silence.

"Mate, you look a bit pale," Ron muttered. "Are you even eating?"

"Yes," Draco replied dutifully.

And then he fell silent again. Ron nodded quickly, turning back to the conversation in front of him. They sat in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch as they usually do after their private match, generating ideas about everything and nothing in particular.

Draco admired that about his friends.

The fact that they complimented each other well enough to spin random topics out of thin air and make hour-long discussions about mentioned discussions.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, Blaise. Nothing important at least."

"You'd mention if it was, right?" Theo asked.

"Of course. I've never been one to keep anything from you."

Hermione smiled softly. "Good."

"If you're tired, we can go somewhere else...?" Harry inquired. 'The library.'

Draco cracked a smile. "There's the Gryffindor chivalry I heard of."

Harry laughed. "There's the Slytherin snark I know. C'mon, Draco."

Standing up, Draco followed him to the library. Their table— with the amount of time they spend there, it was allowed to be considered as theirs— remained untouched until Draco traced the tabletop with his index finger. Already making himself comfortable underneath the table, Harry gestured for Draco to join him. And join him Draco did. He got down on his hands and knees, ignoring how he felt the need to hex himself for dirtying his clothes. He made himself comfortable beside Harry, turning to one of the legs of the table.

As per usual, the carvings underneath the table served as their form of amusement.

And, as per usual, Draco only found himself reaching and tracing the engravings after Harry smiled at him softly and gave him approval.

James Fleamont Potter + Lily Jane Evans

Whatever the cost

"Whatever the cost," Draco repeated.

He liked the sound of that saying. At whatever the cost, Harry's side will win the war— that's what Draco has faith in. And every time he visited the carvings, he was becoming more and more certain his prediction will occur.

"Whatever the cost," Harry repeated back with a soft smile. "Do you want to see the pictures of my family?"

Shocked, Draco gaped stupidly. Harry had never asked him something like that in their many (alright, they've only been there thrice, but it doesn't matter) visits to the carvings. "Pictures of your family?"

Harry nodded. "I just realized I didn't get you back for telling me things about your family. I mean, I told you about Sirius, but that doesn't really count. So..."

"Oh." Draco felt his heart warm. "How considerate of you, Gryffindor."

"Piss off, won't you?" Harry joked back. And then he randomly produced the book they'd retrieved from Gringotts. Draco curiously scooted closer to him. "So you do want to see."

"Of course I do. They're your family," Draco replied seriously. "Family will always remain important."

Not saying anything, Harry flipped to the first page. Then he awkwardly asked, "Er, do you want to read the letter?"

Draco shook his head. "No. I might do a Gryffindor action and impulsively storm into the Manor to hex Wormtail."

"That's..." Harry cut himself off with a soft laugh. "Fine."

He then maneuvered the book so it'd be within both of their views. The first picture was just plain beautiful— it was of a red-headed woman crowned with a flower crown and dressed in a gorgeous wedding dress whilst being carried bridal style of a ridiculously handsome version of Harry in a tuxedo. It was his parents, no doubt, and they looked so young in the picture. They looked carefree, like a war wasn't happening around them.

"Beautiful," Draco muttered.

"Snape's there too."

Draco's eyes wandered around the picture and he realized that his godfather really was in the picture, standing next to another woman from Harry's mother's side of the altar. He looked much brighter and younger then, although he did look a bit bitter at the same time.

"I don't think I've ever seen him smile before," Draco wondered out loud. Harry laughed, flipping to the next page.

This time, the picture within it was bloody hilarious. Draco couldn't help the way his head tilted backwards and a string of giggles filled the air. Harry's mother was holding a newborn baby— Harry, no doubt— and his father was falling backwards, as though he was so happy the emotion knocked him off his feet. Or maybe it was Remus, who was laughing so hard, he was clutching his sides. Sirius and Wormtail, both a lot younger and happier, grinned and were talking excitedly by Harry's mother's side.

'A rare sight of a wolf attacking a stag Prongs fawns over the Potters' new fawn' the caption underneath the picture said.

"I didn't know your father was an Animagi," Draco said.

"It was done illegally," Harry replied.

Draco hummed. "They did it for Remus, no doubt. And, Merlin, there was a deer pun in there."

"It was written by my 'deer' old dad," Harry chuckled.

"Shut up, Harry," Draco laughed.

Fulfilling Draco's request, Harry flipped to the next page.

Draco's eyes widened. "I knew you lied back then!"

Mouth agape, Harry looked as though he had no idea what Draco was talking about. "When?"

"Back in first year! 'First time on a broom', my arse! I thought that I was talentless for how you defeated me whilst claiming it was your first time," Draco huffed. "I nearly quit flying because of you!"

"It was my first time in a long time," Harry admitted. "But you aren't talentless and... I'm glad you didn't quit. You've always been my best rival for Quidditch and I think you're the reason why I took the sport so seriously. After all, I couldn't let you get better than me and steal the Snitch like I know you would've if you'd been paying attention half the time."

Draco beamed. "I know that."

Harry proceeded to show him pictures of his family, which filled the entire book surprisingly, and Draco made little comments here and there about each picture. When curfew hit, Harry sneaked Draco to the Slytherin dungeons before quickly dashing towards the Gryffindor towers. Draco leaned sideways against one of the pillars, smiling softly to himself.

"Love endeavors?" the Ghostly Baron snarked.

"Chardonnay," Draco said.

The Ghostly Baron didn't budge. "No kiss goodbye to his Bianca, that Lucentio?"

"There is no Bianca and Lucentio. Only a Katharine and her impulsive Petruchio," he replied. "Chardonnay. That is the password."

"Ah, but Lucentio is to be with Bianca."

"Then you have your answer, Ghostly Baron. It is not a love endeavor. I've stated the password twice now."

And, when Draco was finally safely behind his doors, he let a small bouquet's worth of flowers pour out of his mouth. The pain was so familiar, Draco almost didn't feel anything. Almost.

The fifth day of Draco's peaceful silence went similarly, but Harry pulled him to the Quidditch Pitch instead of the library and roped Draco into thinking he wanted to talk to Sirius about their abnormally traditional family. They ended up talking about chocolate though (which Draco definitely didn't mind at all!). Remus, who was there as well, kept muttering about how he'd cover Draco in chocolate from head-to-toe the next time they met face-to-face since Draco obviously loved it as much as he did.

And then the sixth day happened to fall upon the same day as the long-awaited Valentine's party.

Again, they used the Slytherin Common Rooms simply because Umbridge was easier to persuade when it came to the House of most of her Inquisitorial Squad. All Draco had to do was bat his eyelashes and tell her that it would be a good way to demonstrate the Ministry's obvious superiority, especially on the day that the majority of students view as one of the most important holidays. Umbridge simply smiled and gave him the go-head to do so. Not that they would've changed the location if she'd said no.

Interestingly enough, the day started peacefully. No flowers were in sight for the first time in a long time, and Draco was beginning to think he's been cured overnight. At first, he was pleased. Then, he was pissed.

Harry doesn't deserve to be loved any less.

The frown he wore at that thought continued well into lunch of the day, which also happened to be when Adrian Montague approached him for the first time in several months. It was a bit odd that the Quidditch player just slid into the seat next to him without warning, but Draco figured it wouldn't be too awkward if they made small talk like they always did. Luckily Montague wasn't like any of the stereotypical, idiotic blondes with blue eyes.

"Malfoy," he greeted with a light accent. He greeted Theo the same way as he slid next to the seat on the opposite side of Draco. "I hear you're hosting a party with Parkinson and... Granger, that muggleborn from Gryffindor, down in the dungeons. Valentine's theme?"

Ignoring how Theo deliberately ignored the two of them in favor of paying attention to the food in front of him, Draco smirked. "It's been posted in front of all the Common Rooms already. Looking for a written invitation, Montague?"

"Only if it's yours."

"Oh how you pull my heart strings!" Draco dramatically gasped. "Truly, how can I ever recover?"

"You've gotten better at that."

"At what?"

Montague grinned. "Fishing for compliments."

"I hope a fish has been caught then," Draco snickered. "Now, truly, what do you want of me? You haven't spoken to me since that wonderful chocolate cake, which Blaise stole away from me by the way."

"I thought you were avoiding me," he replied. "So I gave you a bit of space. I didn't hear it until half a week ago that you quit Quidditch."

"A tragic loss for Slytherim sadly," Draco said. "However, we thought of a brilliant scheme and planned to have weekly matches so I'll be in shape in case Harper decides to retire early into his career. Oh, and I must warn you if you want to play chess with him later on: Ron is actually quite clever."

Montague looked at him strangely. "Weasley, you mean."

Draco shrugged. "He hasn't been that in quite a bit of time."

"Huh."

"So will you be attending the party? I hate to admit I somewhat miss your presence."

Montague's grin returned. "Of course, I will. If you're involved, I'd never miss a party. Especially if there's strip poker."

Rolling his eyes, Draco sighed. "Oh don't act like you've never seen me naked, Montague."

"Always have to say it so lewdly, Malfoy?" Montague joked, laughing along as he said it. "I think your Gryffindor bodyguard is going to get jealous."

Glancing upwards, Draco noticed that a Blaise and Ron dashing towards the Gryffindors, where Harry could be seen nearly snapping his wand in half. The only things stopping him were Blaise, who was frantically talking him down, and Ron, who was on their other side, was trying to keep Harry seated by nearly sitting on him himself. Chest hurting a little, Draco looked back towards Montague.

"You always bring out the worst in people, Montague," he said bitterly. Though, he was a bit pleased that there was a reminder of his love for Harry.

At the same time, Draco knew he should've known it was Montague. The bloke Harry loved must certainly be as brilliant, carefree, and grounded as the blonde was. For as long as Draco's known him, there's never been a bloke fulfilling those requirements better than Montague has.

Draco hated the fact that the only reason why he hated the thought of them was because he wanted Harry for himself.

"Draco?" Montague's voice was silvery. Draco shook himself of his thoughts, smiling weakly. "Are you feeling faint?"

"No, just a bit confused. You've been taking up all my attention like an annoying little fly, Adrian," Draco huffed. "I think we've missed half of lunch."

Montague faked an exasperated groan. "Oh, how can I ever make up for the lost time?"

Draco mockingly rolled his eyes, turning away to actually place something on his plate. "We'll speak more during the party then?" he muttered in Montague's direction.

"If your bodyguard doesn't kill me first."

Draco waved his worries off.

After all, Harry was not Draco's bodyguard.

He was just worried Draco might have feelings for the same bloke that he has. And unless Harry loved himself the way he loved Montague, that would never happen.

Smiling softly, Draco nodded.

"I'll see to it." He ate his lunch quickly, bidding farewell to Montague before making his way over to the Gryffindor tables. Although many of them were still wary of Draco, they made space for Draco to sit. "Trouble in paradise?"

Harry continued to savagely stab his treacle tart, no other acknowledgement of Draco's presence except for the slight glance upwards. Blaise and Ron paused their animate Quidditch discussion to shake their heads before resuming their conversation. But Draco was too busy hating how Harry ignored him to notice.

Eventually, Draco sighed in defeat and leaned over the table to speak in Harry's ear. "Alright, I apologize. You have nothing to be jealous of."

"I—" Harry squeaked, his cheeks turning red so quickly Draco wanted to smite himself. He strategically clenched his jaw and managed an easy smile to avoid barfing out flowers and blood in the middle of the Great Hall. "I wasn't jealous! I just wanted to— I just wanted to let you know that there were green apples in the basket!"

Draco hummed. "Sure... I should've known you'd harbored feelings for Montague. He bakes the best chocolate cake after all. No worries though, Harry. I assure you, we are nothing more than ex-Quidditch teammates."

Harry's jaw unhinged. "What?"

Winking, Draco patted his shoulder. "And I think you'd be pleased to know that he'll be attending the party tonight. Dress thickly though. He plans on proposing a rather challenging strip poker game with everyone."

Harry continued staring at him dumbly. And then he seemed to shake his head loose because he smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his nape. "Thanks," he said.

Draco raised an eyebrow when Ron muttered, "Merlin. Never have I ever felt this uncomfortable and indredulous in one sitting."

But, Dumbledore signalled the end of lunch then so Draco was forced to let the conversation go. He slung his bag over one arm lazily.

"Have any of you seen where Pansy is? I need to make sure she's tuned the piano correctly. And dusted and charmed it the exact way I've told her a countless number of times."

"I think she's setting up the Common Room with Hermione, Vince, and Greg," Blaise replied. "She'd mentioned they'd be absent just the day before yesterday."

Draco looked down towards his shoes. "Oh. I suppose I wasn't paying attention then."

And Draco wasn't paying attention to their conversation as they walked to the Slytherin Common Room either. He was too busy making up his mind about several things. Well, mainly two of them. He swore by the end of the day, Ron will dramatically ask Hermione to marry him out on a date. And he swore by the end of the day, Theo and Pansy would finally yank out the tree up their blind arses.

And Draco had been sure of those things would occur until Ron decidedly walked into the party with the most atrocious looking robes and proceeded to get drunk out of his goddamn mind til his face was blue. Hermione was too busy chatting with one of the Ravenclaw girls— most likely about the History of Magic since they shared the class together— to even take notice. But, Draco didn't give up hope on his other ship (Pansy and Theo) until they got into an argument about whether or not she should be allowed to drink firewhiskey. That argument ended with Theo knocked-out from Pansy's vicious hexes and Pansy passed-out from the incredible amount of alcohol that she consumed.

And then Draco learned that the piano had been scratched by an insolent, mindless idiot and nearly bursted into a fit of wet anger.

So...

The party was going swell.

Blaise was off in his little corner, attracting attention from jealous onlookers as he snogged his boyfriend senseless. Cassius was beaming so brightly, Draco had to keep his back turned in order not to imagine what he himself would look like if Harry snogged Draco senseless. When that didn't distract him from all that was going wrong (from Draco's perspective), Draco drank two glasses of butterbeer. But, if there was one good thing about the part, it would be Vince and Greg's lovely little display of rows and rows and rows of nothing but chocolates from all of Draco's favorite chocolatiers.

'This,' he thought whilst tears slipped down his cheeks,'this is what Valentine's is really about. Chocolate.'

"You are both too good for me," he bawled as he took a white chocolate truffle. It melted into his mouth smoothly and it tasted absolutely heavenly. "You're like the Merlins to my Prince Arthur."

Vince and Greg both beamed happily. It was the greatest compliment anyone could have received as it insinuates that Draco trusts and respects them more than they could ever think.

"Okay, I think you had a little too much alcohol." As he was the most stupidest brute in the entire Wizarding World, Harry was quick on his feet to pull Draco away from the chocolate buffet. "You shouldn't make yourself sick, Draco."

"I only drank two! And chocolate never makes me sick." Then something in Draco's mind clicked. "Where's my two boxes? You promised you'd get me two boxes."

"It's on the table."

"Then you stole me away from it!" Draco accused. He gripped Harry's collar weakly. "What do you have to say for yourself, Harry?"

Harry swatted his hands away. "You'd make yourself sick if I didn't stop you there."

"I only had one truffle," Draco moaned regrettably.

Harry sighed. "Alright, let's get you to bed, Draco. I'll make sure Vince and Greg save you rwo boxes worth of chocolate for tomorrow."

"No, you can't escort me to my room," Draco wailed. "You need to talk to Montague. It's Valentine's today!"

Harry's face contorted weirdly. "Why do you sound like you think I like Montague?"

"Because you do!"

Harry sighed. "No, I don't. It's not him."

"What?" Draco slurred. "But... but you were angry during lunch today. And Montague is a good-looking, cool bloke!"

"The bloke I— he's cooler than Montague is."

Draco frowned. "But you said you don't like Blaise."

"You're missing someone really obvious, but alright."

Draco squinted, his drunken mind trying to think of possible solutions. When he came up empty, he simply shrugged. "If you're making me go to bed, carry me."

"Why?" Harry asked, his voice incredulous.

'Everything doesn't hurt when you're with me,' Draco thought. But Draco was no drunken blabbermouth so he simply pouted. "Please?"

"... fine."

Harry gingerly put an arm around Draco's lower back and another underneath Draco's legs. He carried Draco bridal-style towards the boys' dormitory— if Draco was accused of leaning in towards Harry's chest, he was going to claim that he was weakened by the promises of chocolate.

Draco tiredly slipped under the covers without bothering to change. He knew that he would freak out in the morning, but he didn't care. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on Harry, who carefully lit a conjured candle and set it by his bedside.

"Good night," he called childishly. His chest still hurt from the constant echoing of 'someone cooler'. He couldn't imagine anyone (except for Blaise, but Harry said not him already) cooler than Montague.

Harry turned towards Draco with an unreadable expression written all over his face.

"I..." he cut himself off, shaking his head. He looked like he was preparing himself for whatever lie he was going to tell Draco. "Don't worry, Draco. It's not— it's not you. You don't need to feel guilty or anything."

'Oh.'

Harry was just trying to prepare Draco for the truth so he'd pretended to do the same.

Although Draco was confused about the last statement, he lost his nerve and Harry left the suddenly-very-cold room. He understood why Harry lit that candle then. And as the door closed behind him, Draco felt the familiar painful pull in his lungs intensify and accepted the bloody flowers straight-on. The flowers' exodus continued swiftly, and Draco wasn't exactly how long he puked bloody and flowers before he fell asleep.

He didn't wake up.

And on the seventh morning of Draco's near-silence, Blaise found Draco surrounded by flowers on his bed, face white and body cold.

Chapter Text

Blaise, ultimately, panicked like a mother unsure of what to do whenever their toddler found themselves stuck inside a garbage can. He screamed bloody murder, waking up the entire Slytherin student body, who were not amused to wake up with a massive hangover. Theo, who was in the room next door, stormed into Draco's room and looked as though he was about to scream bloody murder into Blaise's ears but ultimately stopped short when he saw Draco.

Draco's normally pure white sheets were a raging red and tainted by not-so-innocent flowers. Draco himself was a worrying pale, and sweat was dripping ever so slowly down Draco's forehead.

Theo, unlike Blaise, did not scream. He stared, his mind refusing to comprehend the ugliness of the scene in front of him.

"This— wake up!" Theo hushedly demanded, at Draco's side not even two seconds later. He slapped his cheeks twice. "This isn't fucking funny, Draco! Wake up!"

"I've tried to wake him. He didn't— he didn't even flinch," Blaise replied brokenly. He kneeled by Draco's bedside, plain horror written all over his face. Then he snapped his head towards Theo. "Fuck. Did I wake you?" he asked in a brittle tone.

"Yeah, me and the entire bloody dungeons, Blaise." Trying to convince himself how his eyes were playing a cruel, cruel joke on him, Theo slid to his knees as well. Both of their eyes went back to Draco, neither of them looking away as they continued to speak. "When she arrives, Pansy will know what to do. She'll make him wake up."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"No."

"But, what if?" Blaise asked. He shuddered. Sometimes, he truly hated his pessimism. "What if the party was his goodbye?"

"It's not."

"Theo—"

"If we were in the same situation as he was, you know Draco wouldn't give up on us. I'm not giving up on him," Theo snapped. "Now go get Harry."

Blaise blinked. 'Why the fuck...?' "Why Harry?"

"He'll react faster than Ron, and we can't exactly go into the girls' dormitory to get Hermione. We have to warn one of them at least." Then he wiped some sweat from Draco's face. "Fuck. We should've insisted on Pomfrey treating him. What if she had a solution this whole time?"

Shuddering again, Blaise staggered to his feet. If so, she'd be sure to cure him in an instant.

"I'll— I'll get Harry. And Pansy too. Wait here."

"Yeah."

Never once in Theo's life had he said 'yeah'. It was disgraceful; it suggested he was losing some of his pureblood poshiness. Draco would never—

Blaise stumbled as he made his way out of the dormitory. As he walked up the stairs to get to the Common Room, a circle of people greeted him— all of whom were worried over what had woken them up. Blaise ignored the majority of them, finding Pansy and pulling her aside. All he had to say was a weak "Draco" and she took off in the direction of the boys' dormitories. As Blaise pushed his way out to the empty hallways, Cassius sent him a questioning look that Blaise ignored. With Draco's life on the line, he wasn't about to waste time by taking to his boyfriend.

And although Blaise knew the password to the Gryffindor Towers— he, Theo, Pansy, and Draco all did— he pounded his fist against the wall so harshly, he knew he was waking at least somebody up.

"Harry!" Blaise shouted. He raised his fist to bruise it, but was halted by the sight of a wide-eyed, frizzy-haired Hermione, who stared at him stupidly. "I know I really shouldn't be here, especially at this time, but it's an emergency: Draco. Something's gone wrong and I—"

Hermione's eyes widened. "I'll tell Dean to wake Harry and Ron up." She then disappeared behind the portrait, who was glaring down at Blaise. She re-appeared two minutes later, now dressed in her school robes, and followed Blaise down to the Slytherin dungeons.

"Chardonnay," Blaise demanded. "She's here as my company."

The Ghostly Baron grunted disapprovingly. "Many Slytherins are in distress inside. I will not let anyone— friend or foe— enter until—"

"Hermione!"

It was Harry. He was running down the stairs, nearly tripping down one of the last steps, with his hair all disheveled and face white. Ron, who was not so far behind, looked just as spooked and was clad in orange striped pajamas. Although Blaise's mind was quickly jumping into what has got to be the worst conclusion of all conclusions, he could tell that it was an atrocious set. Perhaps the most atrocious set of pajamas Blaise's eyes had ever set on. Maybe he'll gift Ron a nice pair for Christmas or for his birthday. Fuck, did Blaise even know when his birthday was?

"Is it true? Draco?" Harry asked, panting. He then seemed to see Blaise, and he choked on his own spit. Tears welled up in eyes. "Fuck. It's true, isn't it?"

Blaise stiffly nodded his head, turning back to the Ghostly Baron to convince him to let them inside anyways, but the Ghostly Baron was suddenly smirking knowingly.

"Lucentio, you've come for your Bianca, have you not?"

Blaise's jaw dropped.

In William Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew", Lucentio was a passing by scholar who fell in love with Bianca, the daughter of the wealthy Baptista. The fact that the Ghostly Baron decidedly named Harry as Lucentio and Draco as Bianca... well. maybe Theo was right after all. Maybe Harry could be in love with Draco.

'Poor bloke.'

Blaise glanced towards Harry.

"That... er, that's not my name," Harry grumbled. But then he shook himself loose. "Draco. I'm here because Blaise told Hermione something happened to him. I'm here for him. Will you let me in?"

"How does Lucentio make it past Baptista?" the Ghostly Baron asked.

"I don't even know who that is," Harry confessed.

But, Hermione did. She raised her wand towards Harry, quickly spelling his tie and robes green before doing the same to Ron and herself. "He pretended to be someone else," Hermione stated when both of them sent her an odd look.

"Ah, here we see Tranio." The Ghostly Baron nodded in acknowledgement. This time, when Blaise declared the password, the Ghostly Baron opened the door openly.

'Can't let anyone in, my arse.'

"What the hell was that?" Ron muttered.

Blaise replied with: "I'll explain later. For now, we need to get to Draco."

And that was all he could say before a shrill scream echoed through the halls. Blaise snapped his head towards the entrance to the boys' dormitory, only then realizing that the Common Room was entirely empty. He cursed under his breath and set a punishing pace. Blaise had a feeling that all those Slytherins he ran into on his way out dashed towards Draco's room as Pansy did so and saw Draco in that catatonic state of his. Pushing past several pale Slytherins in his way, he managed to bring Harry, Ron, and Hermione into Draco's room.

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed.

Blaise nodded in agreement mutely, images of Draco's pale and bloodied body pouring into his mind once more even though his view was covered by several students. Fuck.

He didn't quite trust himself to not scream bloody murder again. Pansy noticed their arrival, quickly wiping her cheeks to get rid of the tears that kept falling. She suddenly stood, walked towards them, and hugged Blaise so tightly he feared his spinal cord was going to snap in half before she moved to constrict someone else. But then she let him go and did the same to Hermione, who clung back just as fiercely. Blaise decided that women are a force to be reckoned with. 'Their backs are so strong.'

In the midst of it all, Harry pushed past Pansy and Blaise, kneeling beside Draco's bedside as well. Several Slytherins— who Blaise couldn't remember the names of for the life of himself— cleared a path as soon as they realized who he was. Theo, on the other hand, barely glanced upwards. Like he already knew Harry was going to fall to his knees as soon as he saw him.

Blaise moved closer.

"None of this was here last night," Harry was muttering. His hands scooped up some of the flowers and Harry tossed them carelessly to the side. "I swear. Last night, Draco got drunk off two cups of butterbeer and tried to steal half of the chocolate display Vince and Greg got out; and he definitely should've been sick since he had the butterbeer on an empty stomach, but he wasn't. Disappointed, maybe, but not sick. Draco wasn't sick at all."

"There had to have been a trigger last night," Pansy replied, her voice just as quiet. "If he wasn't sick when you left, there was a trigger after you did. Someone, maybe."

Harry shook his head. "I kept an eye on the door to the dormitories until Theo woke up and went in. Nobody had left; nobody had entered."

"Then Draco triggered an attack all by himself," Pansy muttered. She looked away from him, bringing her hands up and covering her face. She took a deep breath. "I think— we definitely need to get him to the Hospital Wing."

"And if he rejects the potions again?" Blaise asked, afraid.

This time, instead of Theo grounding him and telling him off for his pessimistic thoughts, Harry interrupted him.

"Then he'll get through this on his own. Draco's strong. If he won't let the potions help him, it's because he doesn't need the help at all."

It was a lot of faith for a man who had fought with Draco for four and a half years and then got into a familial argument with Draco just a week before. Blaise shook his head.

It was a lot of desperate faith.

Everyone around Draco's bedside nodded, even the terrified first-year Slytherins. Not wanting to scar them or be given a scar through Draco's infamous lashing out, Blaise took it upon himself to address everyone. "I hope I can trust on your silence. This must not leave Slytherin, I'm afraid."

They nodded, all shaken. As they slowly made their way out of Draco's room, Adrian Montague remained. "Will he really be alright? I've never seen this before."

"It's Draco," Blaise replied quietly.

Adrian nodded, taking his answer as an affirmative. "You will let me know if he is alright?"

"As I've always done."

Adrian then took his leave, the frightened expression not quite leaving his face. When Blaise turned to look at Draco again, he was surprised to find the bed empty and the blond in Harry's arms.

"Harry?" Blaise asked.

"I'll carry him there," Harry said, his tone flat. He then looked down towards Draco. He wore an odd, regretful expression. "I should've stayed with him a bit longer. It's all my fault. I'm sor—"

"Don't you blame yourself," Theo harshly snapped. All eyes landed on him. "There's no use for regret and pity right now. It's not going to get him any closer to the Hospital Wing."

Harry nodded, his grip around Draco tightening. "Okay. To the Hospital Wing."

The Hospital Wing, contrary to popular belief, did not have many students lounging about at seven am in the morning. Instead, the place was nearly empty save for two beds, one of which Professor Snape was in and another of which Luna Lovegood was in. While Professor Snape appeared dead on both the inside and outside, Lovegood stared up at the ceiling looking entirely pleased with herself.

Her facial expression both brightened and darkened when she saw them.

"Is that Draco?" she asked politely, pushing herself off the bed. She walked over, humming a little carefree tune.

"We need Madam Pomfrey," Harry declared at the same time that Hermione asked, "Why are you here, Luna?"

"Yes, you have many wrackspurts and heliopaths floating around Draco," Luna replied. Blaise blinked. 'What?' "And the Ravenclaw Towers made me realize the Hospital Wing must be awfully lonely. I'm here to keep it company."

"And you, Professor Snape?"

"Resting before classes, obviously," their professor drawled. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw dropping when he caught sight of Draco.

"Madam Pomfrey. Where is she?" Harry snapped.

And as always, the old Healer had impeccable timing. She wandered in, humming a little happy tune to herself, and stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of them. She nearly dropped the tray of potions that she was carrying, but managed to stop herself by pushing it onto one of the beds.

"Put Mr. Malfoy over here," Madam Pomfrey requested not-impolitely. She gestured to another bed.

Harry complied, laying Draco down as though the blond was the sacred Rowena Ravenclaw diadem that was worth millions upon millions of galleons. It was strange to say the least, but Blaise wasn't going to complain about Harry's careful treatment for his best friend. For all he knew, that could simply be the way that Harry always treated his friends. Besides, Blaise wasn't cruel enough to expose Harry for his maybe-enamorment for Draco with all their friends, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Snape present. No, Blaise was a brilliant black mamba who would be unhesitant in striking the lion's pelt if anything goes the slightest bit sideways.

"Is Mr. Malfoy in the same predicament as he'd been several months ago, Mr. Zabini?"

"No, madam," Blaise replied stiffly. His eyes remained trained on his best friend. "I believe it is worse now."

"He had always been getting worse," Theo continued.

"Are you no longer supplying him with your potion, Mr. Nott?"

He replied with a negative. "We all decided against it after realizing it was doing more harm than good."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Is he sleeping?"

"We're not quite sure," Pansy answered, her voice tight and croaky. "He— Blaise found him like this."

Madam Pomfrey walked towards Draco carefully, placing two fingers against his neck's pulse point. Blaise prayed to whatever entity out there that she felt something. He couldn't believe he was stupid enough to not check. He'd just been so panicked, he listened to whatever Theo demanded for him to do and stormed towards the Gryffindor Towers. Although there was something wrong, it certainly didn't look like Draco stopped breathing. Fainted and still unconscious, yes. But dea— Blaise wasn't going to even let himself think it.

"I need to put him under a stasis charm," Madam Pomfrey suddenly announced, snapping Blaise out of his daze. "He's barely breathing so we need to keep it that way. I'll call for St. Mungo's—"

"No. No St. Mungo's," Harry interrupted. "Draco hates the hospital."

"My, my, Harry. I didn't realize you knew him so well," Blaise teased, unable to help himself.

Even with his cheeks flushing slightly, Harry rolled his eyes. "After Buckbeak attacked him, he was complaining about it for days. It'd be weird if someone didn't pick up on it."

"Mate, I think you're the only one who 'picked up on it'," Ron snickered. Blaise hid a smirk behind his hand.

"Doesn't matter," Harry huffed.

"Harry's right though. We can't call for St. Mungo's," Theo said lowly. "I have no doubt that Lucius and Narcissa will attempt to drag him to the Manor and put him under more advanced care."

All of their expressions darkened at that. The conversations they had about Draco's trained adaption to one of the three Unforgivable Curses was still fresh in their minds. It did only happen a week prior to this predicament.

Madam Pomfrey interrupted their thoughts with a soft question. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"No. We simply believe that it'd be better if we kept this under a low profile," Pansy replied. "Please refrain from calling St. Mungo's."

"There must be a logical explanation for your insistence," the Healer huffed. "I just hope it's logical enough to balance out the dangers of Mr. Malfoy's health."

"It doesn't have to be. I know you'll do everything in your power to save him," Hermione said softly. "You said it once before. To help Harry and, obviously, every student that ever walks into the Hospital Wing."

"Yes, well, I've never encountered what Mr. Malfoy has. Surely, calling for the help of a professional will—"

Harry shook his head. "We already have one."

Madam Pomfrey stared at him for several moments in utter silence. Then she sighed, shaking her head, and turned away. She returned moments later with her wand. Waving her wand over Draco's body, she sighed again. "He has lost an incredible amount of blood, but he will wake up. His lungs are beginning to collapse due to the internal bleeding created by the holes from the piercing of the flowers. I can give him a Blood Replenishing Potion and a quick Episkey to heal the lung collapsing, but the flowers will not be removed..."

"He'll be fine. I know he will be," Theo stated. "We need to yell at him for scaring the living daylights out of us though. Do you have something that'll wake him up quicker?"

She hesitated for a brief moment before she nodded. "Help me sit him up."

Blaise was instantly doing so, sitting on the bed and pushing Draco upwards a little bit. He made sure that Draco drank the potion by closing his nostrils and watching his adam's apple. When the vial was drained completely, Blaise gingerly laid him down and moved away. After casting the spell she said she would, Madam Pomfrey handed Harry two vials.

"One is Sleepless Draught and another is the Blood Replenishing Potion," she informed. "The first is in case he wakes up and ruins his progress like he did the first time he came here. The second is in case he has another... fit. If both of these are given to him in both of those cases, Mr. Malfoy will wake up in a matter of days."

They all let out a sigh of relief. Even Professor Snape, who still looked dead inside, let out a deep sigh. Blaise felt a something akin to a small 'huh'. Apparently Professor Snape cared for Draco more than he let on. After all the time Professor Snape claimed ignorance and annoyance whenever Draco asked to talk to him (aka 'pester' him for any spare chocolate frogs)... Well, their professor did give him one without complaint each time he did so. Maybe he was just really subtle in the way that he demonstrated care for Draco.

Still. If Professor Snape showing an emotion other than disgust and indifference wasn't surprising, Blaise didn't know what would be.

Everyone then nodded slowly, their eyes skirting towards Draco again. Turning away, Blaise shut his eyes.

There was nothing he could do except wait.

And Blaise hated it.

He always hated feeling helpless, but he absolutely loathed feeling helpless when Draco was involved. It had always been that way for Blaise and— whether Draco would approve of him thinking that way or not— he always felt like there was a debt he needed to pay. Draco rescued him from the streets. He protected him. He saved Blaise from his own mother time and time again.

So, especially in situations where Draco is hurt and Blaise is incapable of doing anything more than wait...

He really fucking hated the world.

There was really nothing else he could blame for his friend's suffering.

"Bloody hell. I can't deal with another round of Harry having the lights on at all times with the map out," Ron cursed.

"Map?" Pansy asked at the same time Hermione cursed Ron's name and Harry covered his face with his hands. "What map?"

"I'll tell you later," Harry mumbled. He brought his left hand up, making his hair even more messy than it'd been before. "I hate seeing him like this."

Blaise nodded, sharing the same sentiment. "We all do."

"Of course," Hermione said kindly. "He's our friend. It's just a bit difficult to see him in so much pain."

"More than a little bit, actually. I mean, I already want to kiss him whenever he smiles and waves his hands around while he talks about something. Seeing him like this just makes me— it makes me want to find whoever did this and hurt them," Harry cursed lowly.

Blaise, as well as all others, gaped at him. And he was pretty sure that loud thump just then was Professor Snape's body falling off his bed. Blaise didn't realize Harry would be so bold to expose himself while Draco was like— well, while he was like that!

And in front of Draco's godfather too.

The king of Gryffindors indeed.

"What?"

"Harry, what the fuck?" Theo whispered in a hushed tone. His voice cut through the stunned silence everyone was in.

"What? What'd I say?" Harry asked. He snapped out of his daze, glancing around and sending back the same confused expression everyone else wore.

"You said— you admitted that you want him in a non-friend way."

"Non-friend? Are you serious?" Theo deadpanned.

Blaise huffed, "shut up. I couldn't think of the word."

Harry blinked stupidly. "Wait. About what you said I said: I did that?"

Ron nodded. "You did."

"Oh." Cheeks flushing, Harry looked towards one of the windows. "Well, it doesn't matter."

"Right, and Draco's chaotic history with chocolate is not a warning for all to stay out of his way," Blaise drawled. "Since when?"

"I... I don't know."

Theo snorted. Then Pansy suddenly turned to Theo. "You already knew, didn't you?"

"I suspected for a long time, but actually learned it a week ago. He slipped up."

"After the argument?" Hermione asked. "Or after Draco suddenly stopped talking about the... you know."

"Just a few minutes after the argument. I was explaining Draco's side of the story when Harry just told me," Theo replied. "And I'm pretty sure he started feeling differently for Draco just a few days after we announced our truce."

Theo thought it's been at least five months.

Blaise pursed his lips. He didn't know what to think. But if he had to guess... maybe a month ago? During France maybe? he doesn't really know. What he does now is this: Harry wasn't exactly subtle... he did just confess his feelings just a few moments ago.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione inquired.

"Well, you saw how he was over the winter break. He was staring at a book for longer than three minutes, which I believe Hermione had mentioned was a 'miracle'. And then he suddenly announced how he knew the origins of Draco's name. I started to get suspicious then."

Huh. Maybe it started a few months ago instead.

Blaise could sort of see it.

Ron interrupted Theo with a loud snort. "Try first year maybe."

Pansy, Theo, and Blaise all stared at him incredulously. "First year? Harry has felt this way about Draco since first year? Is he a masochistic bastard? Do you realize how mad you sound?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Can we stop talking like I'm not here?"

Ignoring him, Hermione hummed in agreement with Ron. "It was always 'Malfoy this' and 'Malfoy that'. If anything goes the slightest bit wrong, Harry took it as an opportunity to talk about Draco. Not to mention how long he spent staring in Draco's general direction throughout the duration of every meal."

Ron snickered. "Remember when we had to say Draco's name just to catch his attention?"

"I'm here, you know," Harry muttered.

"Ah, so you must also have a different guess as to when your feelings started," Pansy teased. "Don't tell me it was just now, Harry."

Harry's eyes snapped up, a storm behind his irises. "It's not like it matters." He was greeted with blank stares. "I'm not allowed to have them," he clarified.

Blaise called bullshit.

Of course he was allowed to have these— Merlin, Blaise's insides were gagging from the next word— feelings. Who the fuck has been denying him the right to?

"Neglecting your wrackspurts will only make them angry," Lovegood unexpectedly said. Blaise nearly forgot she was there and, judging by the looks of everyone gave her, so did the rest of his friends. But— this was not a surprise at all— Blaise had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. "They'll only gather reinforcements and increase in numbers."

Harry, however, looked like he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Well tell them to bugger off. I'm not allowed to have them so I won't."

Blaise frowned. "Why?"

"Because—" Harry harshly cut himself off, glancing back towards Draco. He wore a face of grieving, but something told Blaise he wasn't grieving over Draco's state of being. Blaise's mind wandered, wondering what the hell could be running through his mind. Then, in a much quieter, more solemn tone, he said, "because he loves someone else. He'll never be mine."

Utter silence ensued once more.

"Maybe. Maybe not," Ron said unexpectedly and ominously.

Chapter Text

Harry liked to think that he was a good person with a decent life. Yes, after a month of his birth, his parents were killed. Yes, he was tormented and practically-enslaved by his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Yes, he had to somehow 'defeat' Voldemort sometime in the future— everyone expects him to do it in a blink of an eye it seems— and yes, he was in love with Draco.

Wait.

Harry forgot where he was going with the list.

Well, the Draco part was definitely not a bad thing. But, it was the most confusing and awkward thing Harry had ever put himself through. It felt wrong.

Not wrong per say, but just weird. After all, he had been attracted to Cho during the beginning of the school year. Harry felt bad because of Cedric, but he didn't pay too much attention to it. And then, Ginny caught his eye for a while, making Harry even more confused. She was funny, attractive, absolutely brilliant on the broom, and off-limits. She was Ron's sister, of course so of course she was off limits. 'Don't fancy your best mate's sister' was a rule that was not said, but understood. Which, by the way, just made Harry even more attracted to her.

Those two attractions came rather gradually, and Harry was forever thankful that they did because he had absolutely no idea of what he can do with his infatuation with Draco.

First off, Harry didn't even think he could fancy blokes. The only bloke Harry knew fancied other blokes was Dean, who accidentally outed himself just the other day by saying that he had to 'gay' instead of 'go'.

And second, it was Draco. Of course he had no idea what to do.

Their relationship— dare he refer to it as such— was rocky at best. Both can be explosive, intense, and cruel when it came to one another, which should've been some sort of sign that there was something between them— again, dare he refer to it as such. Harry always seemed to have a sixth sense just for Draco, and he almost always complained (see: talked) about Draco to anyone. They argued with one another constantly and were almost always at each other's throats. And Harry did hear that married couples argued and he definitely saw himself five or six years in the future arguing with Draco like one of them. Harry thought Draco was a git and vice versa. Not to mention how Harry had suspected him of being a Death Eater for Merlin's sake!

Now, he desperately wished he was wrong for two reasons: he loves the git and the git was dying.

...

Harry remembered the day he saw Draco lying at the bottom of the stairs with blood trailing down the staircases. He just stood there and stared like an idiot. He didn't know what to say. Luckily, Ron had brilliantly casted a disillusioning charm so nobody else would've noticed the mess, and then he quickly told Harry that they needed to bring Draco to the Hospital Wing. Harry had never acted so quickly.

He scooped Draco up into his arms, practically knocking an entire group of students trying to get Draco to Madam Pomfrey. He fought off Pansy, who was trying to steal Draco away, and dodged about a dozen hexes from other Slytherins. And when he got to the Hospital Wing, he was so frantic for help, he accidentally exploded a lightbulb and made three of the drapes lifht on fire. Madam Pomfrey's attention was then caught, and she quickly set to work.

Harry remembered sitting in the same chair he was sitting in now, simply looking down at Draco and wondering why he felt it was necessary to pull such a cruel prank on everyone. Within two hours, Harry realized he missed Draco— his smirk, his laugh, his snide remarks that somehow became funnier every time Harry remembered his words— and got into an argument with Pansy about his state of being.

He didn't know how she knew about Draco being in the Hospital Wing, but Harry didn't really care.

He was there for Draco and nobody but Draco could tell him to fuck off.

So for the span of two weeks, Harry would walk into the Hospital Wing for every spare minute he had and simply sit in the same spot. He would stare at Draco silently, often picking up the bloodied petals around his pillow without once thinking about strangeness of his illness. Then, he would come face to face with Theo, Blaise, or Pansy, and they would have an especially long argument.

And, one day, Pansy let the name of Draco's illness slip out of her mouth.

That was the beginning of their unlikely friendship. Each of them— Pansy, Blaise, and Theo— took a seat and began talking about random subjects until they finally began exchanging childhood stories about Draco. And although Hermione and Ron didn't join their friendship until a bit later— mostly because Hermione was busy trying to figure out what the disease was and Ron was obsessing over Quidditch strategies so he could 'prove himself'— they learned the stories through Harry's daily re-telling at ten o'clock at night.

How Draco's love for music came to be, why the Malfoys owned peacocks instead of magical creatures, when and how their friendship formed, etc. Harry memorized all of those tales as though they were the only thing keeping him from overdosing on worry and fear. He etched those into the deepest parts of his soul, letting the stories change his opinion of Draco. He forgave Draco and made it his mission to forget the past since they both didn't know better. But, still, he was as obsessed with Draco as he ever was.

This change, by the way, should've been another warning of Harry's infatuation.

Two weeks later, when Draco walked towards him as Harry was beginning to make his way over to the Hospital Wing, with his body supported by Blaise and Theo pressed to his sides, to thank him for doing something any morally decent person would do, Harry fell in love with him.

Well, he didn't fall into the feeling. No, Harry ran towards it with open arms and an open heart, knowing that his feelings would never be reciprocated and doing it anyways.

"— Harry."

'Was that Blaise talking?'

When Harry glanced away from Draco, he was greeted by the sight of a tall, Slytherin caveman loose in Hogwarts. The caveman nodded politely in his direction so Harry though that the caveman was not like the cavemen inside of his Uncle Vernon's telly. Realizing that he was being impolite, Harry awkwardly flashed a smile before turning back to Draco. He frowned when he realized that he probably messed up the weird caveman greeting the caveman had given him.

"Fuck! Are you serious, Cass?" Pansy screamed. "These are Dr. Martin's! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Oh. They knew the caveman. So he wasn't a caveman.

Harry didn't understand why he was such an oblivious idiot.

"I can't help it. I just had breakfast and then I ran all the way here," a thick, Norwegian accent responded. The caveman— Cass, Harry reminded himself— would've sounded apologetic if he didn't laugh out his excuse.

"It's not even two doors down, darling," Blaise snickered.

"Ugh. 'Darling'," Theo mocked. "Blaise, stop being so lovesick and clean her shoes."

"What am I? Your mischievous and weird house-elf? You do it! You're the one 'lovesick' with her."

"Your boyfriend's the one who puked all over my precious shoes!" Pansy snapped.

"Boo hoo, princess," Blaise mocked. But, he casted a cleaning charm anyways. He then huffed. "Honestly, it's not that big of a deal."

"Blaise, you know these were just owled to me yesterday!"

She continued to screech dramatics at him, but Harry wasn't listening anymore. He was too busy thinking about the day before this blasted day. Before he woke up with his wand out— his mind half-reeling from his nightmare in which Arthur was attacked— to actually witness a real life nightmare: Draco bloodied and pale. Harry knew he had to tell someone about what he saw, about what he felt. But the one person he wanted to tell was dying, and the other person he wanted to talk to was ignoring him and making him partake in Occlumency lessons for some godforsaken reason. Harry wished there was something he could do...

Softly letting out a depressed sigh, Harry hoped he wasn't overstepping his boundaries when he pressed a soft kiss to the back of Draco's hand.

As if Harry's soft kiss had been the ignition to a fuse, Draco's eyes snapped open. Harry scrambled to his feet, toppling over the chair loud enough to attract the attention of everyone else. In a flash, they surrounded Draco's bed, which was a mistake on their part. Draco's hand— the one that Harry had held and kissed— reached up and yanked Harry down by the collar. Harry unwillingly bent over, his face suddenly so close to Draco's, and he was only semi-embarrassed he thought Draco was going to kiss him.

But then he saw how dull and pained Draco's eyes were.

He saw the blood and flowers before they even left his mouth, but he didn't move until they all left Draco's lips. It was unnerving, watching someone's mouth fall open and blood run down the sides of his chin until bloodied flowers were finally plunging out. But, Harry wasn't going to move until Draco woke up for real.

"Me," Draco muttered weakly, his dull, gray irises disappearing when his eyes shut. Harry's ears strained to hear him more clearly. "Not him. Take me."

Harry didn't think he ever staggered away from Draco as quickly as he did once Draco's body became limp once again.

Take Draco? What was trying to take Draco? Voldemort? His perfection-seeking-to-the-point-of-torture father? His mind raced with so many questions, but then he remembered his nightmare with Arthur and he wondered if he was the person Draco was talking to in his nightmare.

He quickly shook that thought off. Ron and Hermione would hex his bollocks off if they heard him thinking the way he just did.

Harry stumbled forwards, about to give one of his friends the Blood Replenishing vial. But then Madam Pomfrey came running over, her shoes clicking against the cold tiles of the Hospital Wing. "Merlin, it hasn't even been two hours."

Harry blinked, casting a quick time charm, and muttered, "It's been one hour, fourteen minutes, and seventeen seconds. Nineteen now."

Madam Pomfrey sent him a weird glance, but didn't really say anything as she ordered Blaise to sit Draco up so he could drink the vial she had magically brought out of thin air. Harry didn't know if a wizard-slash-witch could even conjure potions, but if they could, he wondered why the hell Hermione never told him whenever he received bad classwork marks in Potions. And then Madam Pomfrey made Draco drink another vial.

Something in Harry told him to protectprotectprotect.

Harry all but surged forwards, but before he could snap at her, Ron stepped in.

"What's that?"

Harry didn't know why he was thinking so aggressively or being so short-tempered. Was he becoming morally indecent? Was he turning Dark?

"It's a Calming Draught. I believe you will learn how to make it in a few more weeks," Madam Pomfrey responded. She then took a step back, her eyes analyzing Draco. "I believe he will be stable for now."

They all nodded mutely. And then came the unexpected:

"Fuck! Cass! Again? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Pansy screeched.

Harry lifted his head, glancing in her direction and scrunching up his nose in disgust when he saw the nasty display of yesterday's lunch and dinner. Cass was clutching his sides, looking just as sick as Harry felt on the inside. "My apologies. I couldn't hold it in again."

"Why do you sound as though you need to use the bathroom?" Hermione inquired.

Cass shrugged, but was cut off by Blaise floating a glass of water to him before he could say anything. "Oh. Thank you, love."

Harry blinked owlishly several times. "I'm sorry?" he croaked.

Blaise stared at him for several long moments before throwing his head back and laughing. "Why do you look so shocked? I already told you he's my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

"Well, fiancé-to-be technically. I literally told you how Cass proposed to me weekly from the beginning of first year and how I finally caved just three months and four days ago."

"You remember how long's its been?" Cass's voice sounded wrecked with emotion.

Blaise gawked at him. "Don't tell me you don't!"

"No, I have it down to the last minute," Cass reassured. "I just didn't think you'd keep track."

"Well, why wouldn't I?"

Cass shrugged. "You've been really busy lately with whatever secret society all of you are collaborating on. You missed out Second month anniversary, and before that, you ran off to France for a week without remembering to tell me."

Merlin, Cass sounded like he was obsessed with Blaise and like he had bollocks of steel. For both admitting all of that and proposing to Blaise every week even if he always said a very brutal 'no'. Theo did explain that purebloods had a certain way of wedding to preserve generations of tradition, and here Cass went and straight up asked Blaise to throw all of that away for him. Not to mention how 'proposing weekly' must be some form of harassment... It was a miracle Cass's prick didn't end up getting chopped off by Draco or Pansy or Theo. Merlin can only guess at how important each and every one of them were to each other.

Huh.

It was kind of weird how Harry could picture himself being in Cass's shoes and Draco being in Blaise's. Sure, if they ever began dating, Draco would know the exact amount of time it's been since they began dating. But Harry? Merlin, Harry would have it down to the next minute, already knowing how each minute spent with a loved one was irreplaceable.

Sirius had taught him that over summer using stories of his and Harry's father's past.

"I'm sorry," Blaise muttered, resting their foreheads against on another. He closed his eyes.

It would be really nice if Draco wanted to pull Harry in for a kiss the way Blaise did for Cass.

Theo thankfully pushed them apart before Harry could get any more jealous of their relationship. "Break it up, lovebirds. We're all single here. Be more courteous."

"Oh, don't be jealous. Just get a girlfriend," Blaise advised.

"Gee, that'll be easy. I guess I already look hot enough and have a decent personality to do it as easy as you do," Theo sarcastically said. Harry agreed. "How convenient is it for me to already have people lining up at my door to court me."

Blaise snorted. "Alright, you sarcastic bastard. I was trying to be nice."

"And you do have a decent personality, Theo," Pansy added, her ears reddening ever so slightly. "You can be hilarious at times, you're brilliant when you want to be, and you care an awful lot about everything. And you aren't that bad to look at."

Theo's blush wasn't as subtle.

"Thanks, Pans."

It was a cute display of everything Harry had once thought he and Cho might be like before he realized he felt more strongly towards Draco.

"See?" Blaise asked, his eyebrows wiggling up and down. "You can get a witch then."

"I don't want anyone," Theo replied, turning away from him and Pansy. To anyone else, he might've appeared dismissive of the idea as a whole, but Harry saw Theo's ever-growing blush and the way the tips of his mouth quirked up into a shy smile. Harry heard the complete phrase Theo didn't say: 'I don't want anyone who's not Pansy.'

"Harry?" Ron asked, snapping Harry out of his daze. "Are you okay, mate?"

He shakily smiled, glancing back down towards Draco. 'Take me,' Draco's voice echoed. Harry winced slightly. "Yeah. There's just a lot of blood."

"Draco said something, didn't he?" Blaise quietly asked. Harry stayed quiet. "Harry?"

Take me.

Knowing that he wasn't going to be able to reply truthfully without his voice cracking, Harry ignored him and asked Hermione to conjure a new shirt and warm towels. He had to rely on muggle methods— the way Aunt Petunia taught and expected him to know after the first time he had been beaten— to clean Draco up. He tenderly wiped the blood away, not quite giving up when some of the blood refused to be cleaned up. He handed the shirt to Theo, who was staring at him with a pair of knowing eyes. Harry ignored that too.

"Harry. You have some on you," Hermione said kindly. She handed him a new warm towel.

Mutely, Harry took it and wiped his face while Theo changed Draco's shirt. He made sure his eyes were covered while Draco's torso was exposed, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in his sleep. When Theo's footsteps sounded a bit farther, Harry opened his eyes and settled back into his chair, taking Draco's hand again. This time, Harry did not kiss it.

"We have classes," Theo stated blandly. he paused before continuing. "We should go."

"Make an excuse for me. I'm not going," Harry replied mindlessly.

Even though he wasn't looking in their direction, he knew his friends glanced at each other. Cass too.

Pansy then asked, "You'll watch over him for all of us?"

'For myself too. I'll never forgive myself if he wakes up alone and thinks he's not loved,' Harry thought as he nodded.

"You can copy off of us later," Hermione offered.

Harry's smile didn't quite meet his eyes. "Alright."

As their feet reluctantly led them out of the Hospital Wing and Harry was alone with Draco, he heard another pair of feet striding towards them. Harry glanced up, his eyes widening when he saw Snape. He didn't even know that the slimy professor was there.

"Potter."

"Professor," Harry greeted just as stiffly.

"Let's... have a chat."

Harry swallowed, his grip around Draco's hand tightening. "Here?"

"No."

"Then I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm not leaving," Harry replied.

"Potter," he called warningly.

"Professor, I'm not leaving," Harry snapped. He knew that he was most likely losing Gryffindor all of their house points, but they'll just have to deal with it. Harry was never one to leave Draco alone, and now that they were friends, he's not about to change that now. He only felt slightly bad and knew he'd have to make it up to his house somehow.

Snape sighed, conjuring a chair. Harry blinked several times. Even more unexpectedly, Snape tossed him a chocolate frog.

"When Draco wakes up, you will continue your occlumency lessons with him," Snape drawled. "You are a hopeless case against me and Draco needs to strengthen his Legilimency skills."

While Harry continued to gawk at him in complete silence, his mouth slightly agape, Snape continued to explain how Harry had much more at stake than Voldemort peering into his mind. When Snape claimed that Harry needed to be stronger so Draco wouldn't know of his feelings, Harry's attention snapped back to him.

"What? I didn't— I never—"

"Potter," Snape sneered, "you spoke loud enough to practically tell the entire Hogwarts." Harry's cheeks flushed, reddening when Snape unsuccessfully tried to muffle a gag. "Try to keep your mitts off of him."

"No one even uses that word anymore."

Snape ignored him. "And do try to not to display your lack of familial affection by begging me for chocolate like a dog barks for attention. I do not fancy being blamed for two chocolate addicts."

Harry couldn't even be mad for being insulted twice in a row. Remembering Draco's story of how Snape had been annoyed by his chocolate-seeking made him want to crack a smile. "Er... right."

"I'll owl my contacts and see what they can do for Draco—"

"Contacts?" Harry asked, alarmed.

Snape rolled his eyes. "They are not St. Mungo's healers. Do not worry."

"No, I mean... I didn't think you'd have friends."

Snape scowled, but ignored his savage statement. "They are expert potioneers and will find a solution." Snape stood up, his dark robes swishing in the air. Then he looked down to Draco, his annoyed facial expression melting into one of horror and worry. "Silly boy. He could've come to me."

Harry stared at him as Snape began walking away from them. He started to see Snapein a slightly different light. He was still a slimy git obviously, but he was a slimy git who worried about and wanted to help Draco. How could Harry not think Snape actually had a heart? It was grinch-sized heart before that fated Christmas in Whosville that will only ever grow for Draco, but it was a heart nonetheless.

"And Potter?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"10 points from Gryffindor for your fancy little comment."

Harry waited until Snape was out of the Hospital Wing to start laughing. When he finally wiped the tears from his eyes, Harry glanced back down to Draco. He couldn't wait to tell Draco what had just happened. He knew the blond would die of laughter.

But for now, Harry was going to be content with waiting for both him to wake up and their friends to return.

Chapter Text

He woke up to agonizing pain on his sides and a blood-draining grip around his wrist. Draco suppressed a groan, his ears staining to hear something. All he heard was some bitch's ugly crying and... well, Draco sincerely thought dying would have less emotions. Less thinking of things like such as well. He thought he wouldn't feel anything anymore, which would be something he wouldn't miss when his side literally fell like a person stabbed his side.

And, well, Draco thought he'd maybe feel a little bit of happiness when he sees all of his ancestors. They would most likely be severely disappointed in how un-Malfoy he had turned out to be. And they would most likely be a bit pissed Draco would deliberately betray his family in hopes of protecting the sons of two blood traitors. And a muggle born. Merlin, it'd take him so long to convince them that their way of thinking was wrong.

Draco expected more screaming about how he was a disgrace to the family name instead of the stupid agonizing pain and the ugly crying.

Figuring that he might as well start getting the afterlife over with, Draco cracked open an eye.

The first thing that greeted him was not his angered ancestors.

"Fuck— Merlin— Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey! It's Draco!"

And he definitely expected to see less of Harry screaming in his bloody face. 

Wait.

'Harry?'

Draco sat up so fast, his head spun from the sudden adrenaline that pumped through his veins. He blinked several times, light assaulting his eyes. When they finally recovered, Draco glanced around. He then patted his body down, finding that he was in his night robes although he remembered not changing his clothes for a reason he couldn't quite remember. The last thing he did remember was barfing up enormous clumps of flowers and wondering why Harry didn't love him—

Harry. The Valentine's party. "It's not you."

Flowers ripped their way up Draco's esophagus. He opened his mouth to a wordless scream, watching helplessly as flower after flower took matters into their own hands and made their exodus. Then Harry, in all his messy hair and emerald eyes glory, was by his side in an instant. He rubbed comforting circles on Draco's shoulders, murmuring "It's alright, I've got you" under his breath continuously.

For some reason, Draco felt particularly sassy at that moment. "You say that and yet you can't even give a dying bloke a simple hello."

The brunette laughed, his sniffles not going unnoticed. Then he lunged forwards and tugged Draco into a hug so tight, Draco had a feeling he was closer to death's door than he believed. He shuddered. As if he was aware of Draco's inner horror, Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder, his heart beating loud enough for Draco to feel through the thin cloths of their robes.

"Missed you too, Draco."

Draco smiled, bringing his heavy-feeling hands up to pat Harry's back. Harry let out a content sigh before squeezing Draco one last time and letting go. He looked as though he wanted to do something else, but knew he had to stop himself.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked quietly. Draco wiped some blood off his lips with his sleeve. Fuck, his future self was going to kill him for making a stain, but the Draco in the present time couldn't give a damn. He didn't want to look so disorderly in front of Harry. Draco's future self was jut going to have to deal with it.

"Am I—" Harry let out a dry laugh, wiping his tears again. "That's a question I should be asking you."

'I feel like shit, but you make it bearable.' "I'm awake and I'm not hungover. Your turn."

"I'm good. Better now," Harry replied. He continued glancing around, breathing an obvious sigh of relief when Madam Pomfrey appeared and started to walk over. He moved to get out of his seat. To get away from Draco.

Draco panicked, hating how the flowers threatened to rip their way up his throat again.

"Don't go," Draco muttered weakly. He didn't think it'd work.

Something inside him— Draco hoped it was his aching sides— healed as he quietly watched Harry's emerald eyes soften and Harry give in to his request. Harry took his left hand again. Draco didn't even realize it until then, but the returning warmth to his hand told him that Harry was the one who had held it earlier on. The warmth traveled to his heart, the thoughts of any pain fading away in a mere instant.

Draco stared at his tightly-held hand.

Merlin, how did Draco ever wonder about who he could've been in love with when Harry was right in front of him most of the time? When Harry, the most courageous, loyal, thoughtful, courteous, and overwhelmingly good bloke, was the only person whose opinions mattered to him? Why on earth had it taken him so long to figure it out?

Knowing and being in love with Harry— not someone like him because Draco knew no one can compare to the sheer goodness inside of this amazing Gryffindor— it was a nice feeling.

"Mr. Malfoy, you gave us quite a scare."

Looking up, Draco smiled lazily. Of course he did. He has no idea how many times he's heard that sentence. His mother had told him the same sentence so many times every time Draco woke up in a haze, his eyes still blurry from the curse-repelling training his father had bestowed upon him just a few hours before she found him.

He felt another squeeze around his hand. Draco shut himself up before he said something incredibly stupid.

"Do you remember anything of February fourteenth? Anything you can tell us?"

Draco blinked, thinking hard. She was speaking as though that day had taken place quite a long time ago. Well, to Draco, it felt like it was still February fourteenth, but Harry's far-too-relieved actions and Madam Pomfrey's wrinkled worry told him otherwise.

"In the morning, I had breakfast as I usually did. I went to all my classes. Sometime before dinner, I helped Hermione and Pansy with preparations for the party. After dinner, the party actually began so I went to the Slytherin Common Rooms and found some delightful chocolate. I fell asleep sometime after that."

"Do you have any idea what could have triggered your... flower hiccup?" Madam Pomfrey asked not-unkindly.

'Yes. Harry rejecting my pathetic arse by explaining he had feelings for another bloke, who, by the way, was cooler than the one bloke I thought was the best-slash-most-obvious choice for him.'

"No, madam. It happened suddenly."

Her hopeful expression dropped. "I'll be right back, Mr. Malfoy. No getting out of the bed until I say so."

"Alright." Then he looked towards Harry. "How long have I been Here?"

"Half a week," Harry answered. He dramatically shuddered, his eyes twinkling when they met Draco's once more. "You've been here for half a week."

Draco stared at him silently. "So... is today Wednesday or Thursday?"

Harry let out a dry laugh. "Thursday, you git. Merlin forbid I try to be as dramatic as you without you ruining it."

"You know me— Draco Malfoy, casual drama enthusiast," he drawled. He then cracked a lazy smile. "Anything interesting happened while I was out?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Um, Pansy barfed over this Slytherin's shoes. I think his name was Cass? I don't know, he claimed to be Blaise's boyfriend. I wasn't paying attention actually."

"Cassius," Draco said kindly. "His name is Cassius. I'm surprised Blaise didn't formally introduce you before. He did attempt to get into the Triwizard Tournament, but you sadly took his opportunity."

"I'd have loved for him to take my place," Harry huffed. "Merlin, that was the worst thing I ever had to go through. I didn't even know what it was until Dumbledore announced it."

Draco hummed. "You've mentioned. Anything else?"

"Snape talked to me about—" Harry harshly cut himself off.

Raising an eyebrow, Draco shifted so he'd be a bit more comfortable on the bed. "About...?"

Harry's cheeks flushed into a wonderful pink. "He's still sort of mad about the chocolate we 'humiliated' him into giving us. But he said he'll contact his friends and see if there was something they could do."

"My godfather has friends?" Draco asked, shocked.

Throwing his head back, Harry roared with laughter. "That's the same question I asked him! He gave me detention! I had to wipe down all the trophies and medals without magic!"

"Poor Golden Boy," Draco teased, chuckling as well. He could just imagine Severus's scandalized face when faced with the sheer 'audacity of this little shit'— Severus would definitely comment this word-for-word if ever confronted. "Did anything else happen? It sounds like I've missed a very eventful four days."

Harry mocked his first statement, but then cleared his throat to answer Draco's question. "And you— well, you probably don't want to hear this, but you had a few nightmares. Er, you had a few nightmares but in the middle of the day. So I guess you can call them a daymare? Merlin, that even sounded stupid. What was I thinking?"

Draco cracked a smile, struggling to maintain a cool exterior. "A nightmare? Do you know what about?"

"You... didn't really say. Blaise said you told someone to hurt you instead or something like that but... I don't know. You snapped out of it just as quickly as you snapped into it."

Draco froze.

He knew precisely what nightmare Blaise overheard; he'd experienced the same nightmare several times over Yule break after all. Whenever he awoke, the nightmare would play on repeat in his mind until he could practically pick out the precise shade of lightning green in crowd and he could tell if there was a body dropping onto the ground. Everything else had been fuzzy back then, but...

It was a bit too clear now.

Draco shuddered.

The Dark Lord raising a wand to Draco and Draco was getting ready to accept it, but then he turned around and sicced the curse on Harry. The violent green of the Killing Curse robbed Harry of the emerald in his irises. His eyes became dull and lifeless as he fell backwards, and all Draco could do was scream helplessly. 'No', Draco almost always shouts, 'Not him. Take me.' The Dark Lord laughed cruelly and snapped his fingers, somehow bringing Harry back to life. And then the process began again.

He'd never felt more mortified, resigned, and inept than he did when he watched Harry die over and over again.

The worst part of it was Draco knew he was in a nightmare, but he couldn't stop it.

He just felt so helpless...

"Draco?"

"Where is everyone?" Draco asked, swiftly changing the subject.

"They're in classes right now," Madam Pomfrey replied, handing him a small, red vial. "They're getting ready for their OWLs."

Draco groaned. "I can't believe you let me miss a few days' worth of worth of lectures. Do you know how long I'll have to be in the library now to catch up on all the notes and homework? Until Sunday at least, Harry. Sunday. I won't be able to play Quidditch!"

Madam Pomfrey gave him a warning look. "Drink."

Draco obeyed, tipping his head back and drinking the liquid of the vial. It felt ridiculously sour, and it scratched at his throat a little as he ingested it. It must be a Blood Replenishing potion then. "The Quidditch we play is completely safe, Madam Pomfrey. I promise."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. "Mr. Malfoy, you have a disease in which flowers constrict your heart and pierces wounds into your lungs. You had a collapsed lung that miraculously healed itself after a single dose of Episkey, even though internal wounds are normally healed with two or three doses. Your blood pressure was also incredibly low, and you were on the brink of being beyond waking up. Quidditch should the least of your worries."

"I understand," Draco grumbled, pouting a bit.

A squeeze around his hand. Draco looked back down on it, only then remembering he was still holding hands with Harry. Merlin, he never wanted Harry to let go of him. "I'll go get everyone."

"Mr. Potter, you will do no such thing. Lay down. You've been losing an incredible amount of sleep these past few days."

"Draco's awake. I should tell everyone," Harry replied stiffly. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Not to tell Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Hermione, and Ron about his conscious state but... something else. Immense fear, perhaps. And is that a trickle of cold sweat Draco's seen?

'You've been having nightmares,' Draco realized. 'Every time you sleep, they come for you like they come for me.'

Draco scooted over in the small bed, propping himself on his elbows. The new position didn't cause as much pain to his sore side as it had when Draco sat up; he was ever so thankful when he checked and saw the area wasn't bleeding. It would be mighty awkward if he had been. They all would've gawked at the injury and rushed to heal him, and then the conversation would be lost.

"Harry," he called, patting down his bed. "No use telling them now. I'm exhausted so I'll just going to go to sleep again."

While Madam Pomfrey gave him an appreciative yet unapprehensive nod before slipping away, Harry stared at him blankly. "Okay... And what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He leaned forwards. "Besides, we can surprise them tomorrow morning."

"Isn't it going to be weird though?" Harry asked, clearly confused about Draco's offer to share the same bed as him.

"I used to do this Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. The three of them on my bed is much weirder than the two of us."

I mean..." Harry played with his fingers awkwardly. "Why?"

His eyebrow arched. "Because why not? We're both tired, and here lies a bed. I'm not about to make you walk a good four feet away from me. It'll be torturous as you're ever so terrified of my hands getting cold."

Harry's cheeks reddened and he yanked his arm away. Draco tried not to show his disappointment that Harry had not told him to fuck off before continuing to hold his hand and claiming Draco was just flustered because 'he had a crush on him'. But, he knew that he winced since Harry's eyes widened and he almost immediately grasped Draco's hand again.

"Sorry, did I let go it too harshly?"

Draco shook his head, swallowing thickly. "I think physical touch helps me a little."

"Oh," Harry muttered quietly. "That's new."

The lie felt like acid on his tongue, but Draco was immensely grateful that Harry seemed to buy it. He'd keep Harry's hands in his for as long as he could, and if he had to lie to extend the time period, Draco would.

"Yes, it is." Feeling his cheeks heat up, Draco cleared his throat rolled his eyes. "Well? Is your pride too heavy for the bed? I must apologize if your pride weighs any more than seventy kilos. This bed won't be able to support either of us then."

The semi-insult lit a familiar match in Harry's eyes. The brunet quickly slipped under the covers, lying on his left to start staring at Draco silently. Draco laid down on his right, making sure that their fingertips were touching a little bit, and then stared right back into his emerald eyes. From this distance, Harry's irises absolutely gorgeous. The only thing stopping Draco from admiring them even more was... well, his stupid glasses.

"Honestly, Harry. You can't wear your specs to sleep. You're not going to see anything anyways," Draco sighed, reaching up and pulling them off. He placed them on a different nearby chair. When he turned back, Harry was blinking several times owlishly; Draco couldn't fight the urge to snicker. "Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived and future Savior of the Wizarding World, is useless without the help of his incredibly ordinary glasses. Oh how lucky I must be to find his one and only weakness."

"You're such a git." Harry rolled his eyes fondly.

Draco smiled. "I can't believe you've just realized this now."

"No, I've always known," Harry snickered.

"Don't make me hex you."

"Do your worst, Malfoy. Hermione knows more hexes than you do."

"Harry, you do realize Hermione will help me, right? I'm the sickly person who needs help from the most knowledgeable witch of our time. You're Harry Potter, the bloke who should be capable of completing his own potion assignments."

"Er, I meant to add that you're a git who smells nice," Harry quickly amended.

Draco chuckled, shifting on the bed a little to make more space for Harry. "Have a lovely nap, Harry."

"You too, Draco," Harry replied, yawning softly.

But as Harry's breathing slowly evened out and his body relaxed, Draco found it nearly impossible to sleep. His eyes refused to cooperate with the rest of Draco's exhausted body. Instead, his eyes were trained on the sleeping Gryffindor Draco was willing to die for. He memorized every miniscule of Harry's face, praying that if he was able to ingrain them into his memory, not all hope would be lost once Draco returned to his family's hopeless manor.

From this short of a distance, Draco was able to see all the well-hidden freckles of Harry's face as well as how truly painful his infamous lightning scar appeared. He couldn't believe how horribly he used to tease Harry for it. Harry never asked to lose his family. He never even asked to be famous. And Draco was just so blinded by jealousy, he mocked Harry and Hermione and Ron for everything he couldn't have: acknowledgement, knowledge, and familial, not debt-creating love.

How stupid and cruel he was.

Although his hands ached to cast a soothing spell over the infamous scar, the fear Harry would wake up and look at him in horror forced Draco to keep his hands down.

Oblivious to Draco's inner turmoil, Harry snored softly.

The noise allowed Draco to take a deep breath and refocus on the sleeping boy in front of him.

Right now, there were no titles... no duties... no fears... and nothing keeping them from simply basking in each other's company. They were no more than Draco, the bloke with a million regrets and an insufferable disease, and Harry, the bloke who gets into far too much trouble every year and never receives a Howler from his muggle relatives.

They were known as 'the Dursleys', if Draco remembered correctly.

They never sent him any owls or gifts— surely, Harry would've been showing them off proudly if they had— and Harry never talked about them like he does with Sirius or Remus. It made Draco wonder how his muggle relatives treated him.

But, as it was not his place to do so, Draco never let himself fathom too long over them. And yet. Now that Harry was no more than a few inches away from him in, Draco took notice to how incredibly skinny he was... Almost as skinny as Draco was, and he was different since he simply couldn't stomach much more than a few meals without daydreaming about Harry or wondering about the blood that he sees ever morning.

If Draco recalled correctly, Harry had always been the skinniest when they returned for school after their summers off. Which, by the way, had always made Draco wonder if his muggle relatives treated him alright. If they fed him every day. If— now that he and Draco were friends— Harry invited him there because he thought Draco would be able to protect him from his muggle relatives. If he felt more terrified and worried than disappointed when Draco stated his wish to go back to the manor. Draco wondered if his muggle relatives loved him like the Weasleys did.

And then Draco wondered if Harry even thought someone would love him like Draco did at their young age— willing to sacrifice everything he could and more if Harry ever needed him to.

"If only you knew..." Draco whispered. Harry didn't so much as twitch. Suddenly, Draco missed peering into his gorgeous emerald eyes. "If only you knew how much I love you."

He brought his left hand up, unable to resist. He quietly caressed Harry's cheek, smiling a little when Harry snorted and tried to swat his hand away. "I suppose the only reason you haven't realized is because you're an oblivious idiot."

Draco sighed, shifting to lay on his stomach. His left arm and leg hung off the bed now, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. If there was something he should care about, it'd be tying up his loose ends before he died. Draco knew he'd lost many petals after that fit of his. He knew Harry didn't love him back— there was no doubt the flowers knew it too. He was pretty sure he had a couple of weeks left, which means that he doesn't really need to worry about his OWLs. He only needed to concern himself with his friends and his family.

It was most imperative that Draco ensured a happy future for them.

...

Will... will Harry be happy in the future?

Will Harry going to defeat the Dark Lord without Draco giving him inside information?

Will Harry going to remember him in a good light?

Draco had faith in the first two, but not the last. Draco did scare the living crap out of him by nearly dying fainting twice.

And, like Harry had said before, Draco's family was sworn allegiance to the Dark Lord. Every time there was a war, his family sided with the Dark Lord of that time, claiming it would provide the most advantages for their kind.

But, really, they were all just one kind weren't they? They were all just wizards and witches, weren't they? If so, doesn't it mean purity of the blood means nothing as long as the magic continues on?

...

Draco has long since thought these thoughts, but he suppressed them in fear someone would expose him for his 'distrust' in his family's traditional views. However, there was something about the concept of death that urged Draco to pull all his 'blood-traitor' thoughts to the surface.

He could just see his parents' reactions now. His father would most certainly be furious with his thoughts. His mother would most likely be curious, but in a non-disappointed way. She's always been supportive of him and—

Draco raised his left hand to his face, wiping some of his tears away with nimble fingers. He turned to lay on his left side, facing the door instead of Harry. He quietly cried, taking deep, shallow breaths in order to prevent himself from making too much noise. He mourned for his mother. She wouldn't even know what had happened. One moment, she'd be sitting in the Drawing Room and doing one of her many hobbies, and the next, she'd learn her son was dead.

Draco wondered if she'd remain a loving person after she learned her son died because of love. He wondered if she'd turn to the traditional teachings of the Black family, and if she'd use his death as an excuse to torture and murder Harry (as he was the only one who could've saved Draco and he wasn't able to do so).

And, right before he slipped away, Draco wondered if Harry would let her.

Chapter Text

Draco woke up to panicked gasps and his hand becoming cold. He cracked an eye open, falling a little bit in love with how dark the room was illuminated by nothing more than the moon and the stars in the sky. But then he saw how Harry was sitting up at the edge of the bed— hunched over and heaving as though he hadn't breathed in the past few hours. Maybe it was just sleep getting to him, but Draco let out a croaky hum.

It was nothing more than a mindless sound, but Harry's head whipped around so quickly, he looked as though he'd been struck by lightning.

Which, by the way, Draco thought was hilarious since he was infamous for having a lightning scar.

"Shit. I woke you up. Sorry."

Draco waved him off, sitting up with a yawn. He smiled sleepily. "Bad dream?"

Harry let out a dry laugh. It didn't suit him. "You could say that."

"Alright, well, tell me what happened."

Harry blinked owlishly. "What? Why?"

"Because it's—" he casted a quick Tempus charm— "one am in the morning and it's cold," Draco whined. 

"Oh. You can go back to sleep," Harry said, as though Draco wasn't going to freak out until he passed out if Harry didn't confide in him. "I'll, er, I don't think I can sleep again."

Draco sighed, reaching out and tugging on the back of his uniform. "Keep me company until I sleep then."

Harry seemingly debated with his options before he nodded. He then laid back on the bed and watched Draco with an unnerving amount of attention. Draco was just about to call him out for it when he realized that Harry probably needed something other than his nightmare to focus on. He bit his bottom lip. Then he laid back down.

He stared right into Harry's eyes when he said, "I miss the manor."

Harry snapped out of his daze. "Why?"

'Why do I miss a place so full of darkness and hatred?'

"I miss how it used to be," Draco explained softly. He shut his eyes, trying not to hate how vulnerable he felt while talking about this to Harry. This was for Harry's sake and Harry's sake only. Draco was only saying this because Harry needed something to distract himself with. Not because he wanted to admit it out loud to someone other than himself. "It may have gone to shit now, but before... before, it was wonderful. It was my home. Now, I can't even think of it in that way."

He couldn't help the way his voice turned bitter at the end.

There was a squeeze around his right hand telling him that Harry had taken it again. Draco managed to hide the blood rushing to his face due to the fact the only shred of light came from the moon. 

"What did you used to do? Before Hogwarts? Before everything?"

Merlin, if that wasn't a loaded question, Draco didn't know what could be.

"Everything and nothing,"  Draco eventually responded. "I used to play instruments and get into trouble an unconventional number of times." When Harry snickered, Draco smiled and continued. "My father taught me magical endurance and politics, and my mother took me to the gardens to sit under the trees and laugh at the peacocks."

Although Harry's face had darkened at the mention of Draco's father, he laughed at the second part of the statement. "Peacocks? Seriously?"

"Yes. They were quite lovely," Draco muttered. "With feathers as extravagant as the gold from El Dorado and names as priceless as the constellations in the midnight sky."

Harry snorted, ruining Draco's attempt at dramatic poetry. "Just say that they're as posh as you are, Draco."

Draco let out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh, how you wound me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Alright, so you used to go on picnics with your mum."

"They weren't picnics," Draco corrected. "More like... unconventional outings. Mother and I would go out on the nights with nothing but blankets when the moon is nothing more than a slight silver, and she would tell me extravagant stories. Whether it be about our ancestors or of an inanimate object such as hats, she would weave a story that made me wish the night never ended."

"What's your favorite?" Harry asked, his voice no louder than a whisper. Draco's shoulders tensed. "Will you tell me? Please?"

"I... well, alright. My favorite is one of Sirius," Draco confessed.

Harry's eyes snapped open, surprised beyond words. "Sirius?"

"Yes. It had been the first time she mentioned him to me, and Father had been incredibly disappointed when I told him so. He didn't want me to believe Mother."

"What did she say?" he asked, completely ignoring the mentioning of Draco's father. Draco couldn't bring himself to care.

He closed his eyes. "Mother said he was the most honorable and loyal man she ever had the pleasure of meeting, and she told me how Sirius would never be capable of doing what everyone had accused him of doing. Once Mother made those things especially clear, she told me a story about how a tiny puppy somehow wandered into a lion's den and was excluded for being an outsider. But then, a team of fierce cubs took him under their wing, and by the next time those other lions saw him, he became a guard dog who fought off two big, mean hippogriffs."

"No wonder you were afraid of them in third year."

Draco's cheeks burned with humiliation. "It wasn't fear."

"You're right. You were terrified," Harry teased. When Draco huffed, he murmured a soft apology. "Do you have another favorite?"

"Story?"

"Yes."

Draco hummed. Now that he did it once, he was somehow excited to share another. "Oh, if I remember correctly, Mother enjoyed telling me tales of how constellations came to be, and they were all ridiculous but I loved it. Usually, she'd tell me about dragons breathing fire into the sky and how my name's constellation was burned into the galaxy. It was either that about a thousand dogs managed to fly to the the moon and jumped off it to form dog constellations. Oh, there was this one interesting one about how a dove's path of flight formed the dove constellation and another of how this one archer shot an arrow into the sky, and when the arrow exploded, the bits and pieces of it got stuck... All of the stories were ridiculous, but it was everything to me."

"That... those stories does sound ridiculous."

"It was. But I loved it. I loved sitting there under the trees and listening to my mother. I loved falling asleep under the stars and waking up to see one of the peacocks making a funny face at me. I loved playing the little violin she would bring out whenever I was feeling particularly down and she claimed she wanted to hear me— I loved being the reason why she smiled. Everyone is beautiful when they do."

Harry's breath audibly hitched. "Did she not do that a lot when you were a kid?"

Draco shook his head. "She did, but they were usually forced."

"Oh." Harry paused, allowing Draco to check to see if he was feeling much better. He concluded that Harry did. "Because of her, how many constellations do you know?"

"All of them," Draco replied, completely serious. "Merlin, I know all of them. I was so interested in Astrology, Mother brought a tutor in from New Zealand to teach me. Under her care, I learned almost everything I could about stars, constellations, planets, moons, and so on." He paused. "Why? Do you want me to point them all out of you?"

"You would if I asked?" Harry asked.

"Of course." Then, getting up from the bed, Draco tugged him along. "I've never gone to the Astronomy Tower after curfew, but I believe everything would look incredible."

"I don't have the cloak."

Draco rolled his eyes, casting a charm over Harry with a slight flick of his wand. "We're wizards, Harry. Warming charms exist."

"I know, but that's not what I meant," Harry said.

Not really caring, Draco shrugged. "Come on."

"Without the cloak, we'll get in trouble," he warned, sounding a bit nervous and giddy at the same time.

"The only trouble you're going to get in is with me, and it'll happen if you don't get up from that bed."

"Draco—"

"I'm on the squad, if you don't recall," Draco drawled. "I'll simply make an excuse as to how I caught you out of bed after curfews and everything will be fine. Even if it wouldn't, I thought you wouldn't have minded. Seeing that you are Harry Potter and getting into trouble is technically the only thing you do consistently."

Harry frowned, but he didn't argue as Draco tugged him out into the empty corridors.

They were nearly caught twice on their journey to the Astronomy Tower. Once with Filch's annoying cat and the other with Severus. While the first was difficult to shake off, the latter had been too relieved to see Draco to really take points off of them. Severus had taken out a fistful of chocolate and dumped them onto Draco's hands. Once stating that it was payment to ensure that Draco never scared the living shit out of him, he seemingly noticed Harry by Draco's side. And only once Severus noticed Harry did he narrow his eyes and sneer.

"Potter."

"Professor."

Draco snorted. "Severus, you have to begin calling him 'Harry' at some point."

"Absolutely not," Severus sneered. "This little slimeball doesn't deserve to be on first-name basis with me."

Rolling his eyes, Draco stuffed the chocolate into his robes' pockets. "You've already given him chocolates before. I believe that is first-name worthy."

"No. You tricked me into that," Severus snapped towards Harry, who simply grinned and raised his arms. "What are the both of you doing out of bed?"

"Taking Draco to the dorms," Harry quipped.

Draco wanted to smack the back of his head. They were three levels above the Slytherin dormitory. Why the hell would they be heading towards the dorms if they were walking up the steps? "We're heading towards the Astronomy Towers."

"I thought you were going to lie," Harry hissed.

"Your lie sucked," Draco replied, sticking his tongue out. "Besides, he's my godfather. I can't lie to him without facing repercussions. What if he revokes my chocolate-in-the-dorms rights? "

Severus sighed. "Do I even want to know why you're going to the Astronomy Tower at one in the morning?"

"To look at the stars," Draco brightly answered. "Harry here is completely daft and has asked me to teach him all of the constellations and the like. It was rather difficult to explain without looking at them, so we are."

"At one in the morning?" Snape repeated.

"Yes."

"Why are you even awake at this time?"

Draco shrugged. "I took a long nap, Severus."

Severus stared at him for several long moments before sighing. "I did not see either of you. Now hurry along."

"Shit, really?"

Draco stomped down on his foot, receiving a loud groan of pain next to his ear. "Thank you, Severus. Good night."

Severus didn't say anything in reply, simply stepping past them and turning at the end of the corridor.

"Did you have to step on me?" Harry hissed, drawing Draco's attention.

"Oh, don't be such a baby, Harry. We need to get going before someone else comes and isn't as lenient."

Harry only frowned, opting to not say anything as Draco tugged him along. The Astronomy Tower, much to Draco's delight, wasn't locked up. However, it was incredibly messy, meaning that they wouldn't be able to sit inside the tower without sneezing every few seconds. Draco itched to clean some things up. He knew Professor Sinistra would know they were there though so he clenched and unclenched his left hand.

They had no choice but to go to the open balcony and cuddle, Draco realized triumphantly.

"Hey, I think we can go up some more," Harry called, tearing down Draco's reason for excitement. Draco tore his gaze away from the dirty classroom and stared at Harry, who was pointing to an old ladder. "I don't think we can sit here anyways."

Without another word, Harry let go of Draco's right hand, picked the ladder up, set it against one of the walls with a latch, and started climbing it. Draco hastily followed him, ready to scold him for simply leaving when he caught sight of the little-bit-after-midnight midnight sky. The moon was covered by some thick clouds, which should have disappointed him, but its disappearance allowed Draco to really see all of the stars. Usually it would take few moments for their eyes to adjust, but without the brightness the moon normally provided, it didn't take them any time at all.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Draco asked, his voice breathless as he stepped closer towards Harry.

He casted a cleaning charm on the room, sitting down before he let himself close his eyes and simply feel the breeze. And then, as Harry took a seat beside him, Draco smiled and mentally imagined his own constellation. He knew it could be best seen during summertime, but he had a feeling he would be able to see it in this gorgeous darkness. When he felt a stare burning a hole into the side of his head, Draco opened his eyes and glanced towards Harry.

Inwardly, he groaned. Of course Harry was the type of bloke to just stare at people instead of nature's beauties. I'll appreciate these things enough for both of us then, Draco thought silently.

"Yes," the brunet finally responded. He didn't look away from Draco. "It's really beautiful."

"Look towards the sky, you idiot," Draco snickered, rolling his eyes as he did so. He turned back towards the star-blanketed sky. "We've come for the stars and there aren't any on my face."

"I know."

For some reason, Draco's heart stuttered in his chest. He glanced towards Harry, who now was staring up at the sky, and wondered if Harry knew just how romantic he sounded or how his words were affecting Draco.

"Which one's yours?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco leaned over the edge, his eyes skirting around as he looked for the familiar constellation. He had faith he could find it now. Suddenly, it became all too clear where it was. Thanking his ancestors above for giving him a hand, Draco tugged on Harry's hand while trying to point it out for him.

"My apologies," Draco said excitedly. He hadn't even realized Harry had taken it again. Draco quickly lifted his left hand. "It's over there. Can you see it?"

"I..." Harry's voice trailed off. "I don't know what it looks like."

He sounded as though he was dehydrated, but Draco ignored it. Instead, he turned his head towards Harry, flipped Harry's hand so his backhand was facing towards the sky, and drew the dragon constellation using his pointer finger. Then, realizing Harry probably didn't get it, he drew it again.

"I'd be able to show you better if we had a telescope," Draco huffed, pouting a little. "It's a shame Professor Sinistra always hides them away after classes."

"We can look again on Wednesday," Harry offered.

Looking towards him surprise, Draco nodded slowly. He tried to ignore the blooming flowers awakening in his chest. Well, maybe it weren't flowers since the feeling did not feel painful at all. The muggle saying was 'butterflies' if Draco remembered properly. Those books about Hanahaki in fourth year had told him much about muggles and their odd sayings after all.

"Alright. And while we're at it, we can look for Sirius and Lupus. Perhaps even Cassiopeia and Cepheus, if we're lucky enough to find them."

"Wait. 'Sirius'?"

"He is my cousin. Of course he is named after a constellation as well, Harry."

"Huh. Well, are the four of them some of your favorites? Sirius's included?"

That was the third or fourth time Harry had asked him about a favorite of his. Draco couldn't really remember anymore.

"Merlin, what is it with you and my favorites?" Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "But no. The first two are Sirius's and Remus's constellations." Harry's eyes widened even more at the sound of Remus's name. "Seeing as you didn't know about either of these, I've made the right call."

"What about the last two?"

"Hmm? Oh, Cassiopeia and Cepheus are two of the most major constellations in the sky. I find them the most beautiful ones. Their main stars aren't as bright as Draco's or Sirius' ones, but they're still a delightful color."

"You say that a lot about things," Harry commented. "Er, that they're beautiful that is."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with voicing my appreciation for beauty, Harry. You ought to start doing the same," Draco advised. "Give a compliment or two. It can work wonders on people's perspective of you."

"Is there something wrong with the way people think of me now?" Harry asked, his nose scrunching up adorably. "I mean, everything they write about me is absolutely bollocks anyways."

"Yes," Draco quipped. They shaded a serene smile before Draco turned towards the moon and closed his eyes. He wondered... "Have you ever longed to be someone you can never be?"

"Er, no. Well, actually, yeah. Literally anyone other than me would be wonderful, actually. I wouldn't even mind being Montague."

Draco gasped. "I'll have you know Montague makes an excellent cake. You should be honored if you receive the opportunity to be him," he scolded. Then he playfully bumped their shoulders together. "So why does our dearest Harry want to be 'literally anyone' else?"

On the inside, he cringed at his question. Why wouldn't Harry want to be someone else after all? For starters, his parents wouldn't have been dead. Second, a homicidal maniac is trying to kill him. Third, the Astronomy Tower was probably freezing his bollocks off since Harry had been so keen on bringing a cloak with him. Draco quietly casted a warming charm. If Harry noticed how tender Draco was being, he didn't mention it.

Harry shrugged.

"Just... everyone's always looking to me like I'm Hermione and can pull answers out of thin air. It's either that or waiting to see me do something half-decent. And then the moment I don't, they tell me off and say I'm making everything up. Not to mention how if I even look at someone, we both make the front page of the Prophet and not in a good way. Well, it's never in a good way in my opinion. And it's— I'm just tired of it."

Draco nodded sympathetically, hoping his lack of words said more than he could at this moment. He knew what it was like in Harry's shoes. He himself had a lot to live up to— his father had made sure of that by bringing him to the Ministry once and letting him see precisely how much respect he needed to be capable of receiving once he comes of age— so he knew precisely what it was like to be in Harry's shoes. Except, of course, it was much more worse for Harry. He had made his name all on his own. As a baby.

Now that Draco thought of it, how the hell did Harry do such a thing? Unless his mother and father had decided to teach him controlled wandless magic— maybe it wasn't controlled and he accidentally killed his parents as well... no. Harry wasn't capable of doing such a thing. Killing anyone, the Dark Lord especially, was something Draco knew Harry wouldn't do on any occasion.

Draco stared at the boy who sat next to him, silently remembering his haunted face when he had come back from the Triwizard Tournament with one very much dead Cedric Diggory in his arms and screamed that the Dark Lord was back. The very same boy suddenly snapped out of his daze, and a sheepish yet curious smile overwrote the haunted expression Draco had been remembering.

"And you?"

Trying to remember what they were talking about, Draco blinked several times. "What about me?"

"Did you ever think you wanted to be someone else?"

"Oh. Right." He shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable. "Yours had a brilliant argument so mine feels a bit embarrassing now." But, he saw Harry stating at him with the same curious expression so Draco let out a deep breath. "If I had a choice, I'd like to be someone general. A Muggle, perhaps."

Harry's jaw dropped, and he looked so scandalized Draco had to laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Obviously not. I'm Draco," he joked, earning one of Harry's sassy, yet amused eye rolls. "But I'm not jesting. I understand it sounds odd, especially since I practically muggle-shamed Hermione and demonstrated a particular hate towards Muggles, but it's true. Can't you think of how much more simple our lives would be if we weren't wizards?"

When he was met with a blank stare, he sighed in disappointment.

"Just try to picture it, Harry. No magicked stairways, no nosy, cheeky ghosts, no books trying to bite your hand off..." Draco laughed at that. "Oh, and maybe pick up a few useless, muggle hobbies here and there. Of course, you'd still have your heroic Gryffindor adventures and I'd still be bitter you haven't told me of all of them. And, even without magic, all of it would be wonderful."

"I like the sound of it but..." Draco blinked. 'But?' "But, you do realize that if we weren't wizards, we never would've met right?"

Instantly, he disagreed. "Like hell we wouldn't have."

"No, I'm serious. You have the manor and I have... the Dursleys," Harry explained lamely.

'Hogwarts is the safest place I know,' Draco recalled. He bit his tongue trying not to say this however. He had a feeling Harry wouldn't react well.

"Don't be such a pessimist, Harry. That's my job after all. Besides, I like to think even if we didn't have an infamous rivalry for one of the muggle sports in which my team always topped yours—" Harry snorted at this— "we would've met at some point. Maybe we wouldn't have gone off on the wrong foot and we wouldn't have to worry about things we have to today."

"Maybe you wouldn't've been a git."

"With how many times you've called me that, I'm beginning to think you've forgotten my name, Harry," Draco drawled.

Harry let out a dry laugh; it didn't quite suit him. "Like I can."

Draco hastily calmed his heart. Harry wasn't saying it in an romantic context. Therefore, Draco shouldn't be thinking it was. Biting part of his lower lip, he looked away and tried to think of another subject to be distracting Harry with.

"You know, you're right about what you said earlier," he finally said.

Harry hummed, his eyes watching the starry sky. Then, he seemingly realized what Draco had said because he turned to Draco with a shocked expression. "Did you just say that I was right?"

"Is that really so surprising?" Draco laughed. "It's not like you're a complete idiot, Harry."

The moon chose the perfect time to come out of the clouds. It made it easier for Draco to admire the light flushing of Harry's cheeks. It was bloody adorable and Draco was so fucking whipped—

"So what are you talking about? I mean, why am I right? What did I say?"

"About how everyone looks towards you for answers, yet ostracizes you the moment they hear something they dislike." Draco smiled down sadly. "Like how you told me you could 'tell the wrong sort' for yourself. I obviously disliked that."

Harry nodded. "I'm not going to apologize for that. You insulted Ron."

"I wasn't expecting you to." Draco waved him off. "You were right then too. Ron was and still is a good bloke. If anything, I should be apologizing to you."

"So are you?"

"Pfft, no. Don't jest, Harry." Draco grinned. "Besides, we were talking about how people can change what they say about you in a blink of an eye. I'm not about to stray from it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Apology accepted."

"I didn't apologize."

"No, but you complimented him. It's close enough, Draco."

"I did?" Then Draco shook himself loose from the thought. "Harry, stop it. I'm trying to speak with you."

Harry hummed, his eyebrows raising and eyes closing as he pretended to show interest in Draco's words. He shot Draco a shit-eating grin when caught Draco staring at him, but he cleared his throat all official-like. "Alright. So you were saying I was right...?"

He bumped their shoulders together, the action warming Draco's insides as much as holding Harry's hand had. When he suddenly worried about whether or not their fingers were still interlocked, Draco glanced down quickly. And, much to his relief, they were.

"I don't think I'd like to tell you anymore," Draco huffed. "You're being a complete and utter twat."

Harry's shit-eating grin widened and Draco knew something in his expression must have given him away because the prat Harry laughed. "You hate admitting it, don't you? That I was right?"

"You wish." 'If you smile like this whenever I say it, I will say it a million times over. I'll think it constantly, and I'll hope you use Legilimency around me so you'll hear it every day and smile like you are now.' "I don't even know what I was going to say."

"You already talked about the Prophet and Ron—"

"I did not mention anything about the Daily Prophet," Draco interrupted.

Harry ignored him. "— so I think you're going to talk about professors or something like that."

"Fair, but no."

Harry hummed. "So what was up with Snape earlier? He didn't dock points."

And just like that, Draco knew he wasn't going to slither his way into a deep and meaningful conversation with Harry about the perspectives of others. They had to talk about something different though. Harry was probably going to begin thinking about whatever the hell had woken him up just minutes ago, and he might not appreciate Draco asking questions.

He sighed. "Of course not. I was there. I'm the light of his life," Draco said, pulling a chocolate frog from his pocket and holding it out for Harry. He rolled his eyes, taking it.

"Self-conceited git."

"Nosy ponce," Draco drawled. He cracked a small smile. "Now do you want me to show you all the constellations or not? You did ask me earlier."

Harry raised his hands— well, his right hand since his left was still holding Draco's right— in defeat. He was still wearing that shit-eating grin that Draco didn't quite want to get rid of. "Alright. Fine. Go ahead."

Chapter Text

Dark room. Empty hallways. Dead eyes. Cold body. Maniacal laughter.

Right as Harry grabbed for Arthur Weasley, his eyes shot open and he was forced to realize that Voldemort had gotten into his mind again. He struggled to breathe, but moments after catching his breath, he could've sworn that he heard a distant hissing. It sounded different to all the other snakes he ever heard before, and Harry just knew that it was Voldemort's snake.

His very ugly, cruel snake.

Harry shuddered. He sat up ad covered his ears with his hands, hoping the shrill silence and inhumane laughter would disappear if he simple refused to hear them. He also shut his eyes, hoping that he wouldn't see the nightmare if he simply refused to see. But it didn't work.

He was prepared to hex himself until he simply passed out from injury or laziness, but a croaky hum slapped him out of it.

Draco.

"Shit," Harry cursed. "I woke you up. Sorry."

Draco waved him off, sitting up with a yawn. He smiled, ridding all the bad thoughts in Harry's mind. A tease was the first thing that came out of his mouth. "Bad dream?"

It was such a 'Draco' response and it forced Harry to laugh bitterly. Draco literally had no idea how bad it was. "You could say that," he replied.

Draco sighed and sat up slowly. "Alright, well, tell me what happened."

Harry reeled back. "What? Why?"

Draco then did what Harry knew he did best: whine. "Because it's—" he suddenly casted a charm to check the time— "one am in the morning and it's cold."

Harry, sadly, was not in the mood to make fun of him for it.

"Oh. You can go back to sleep," he offered. He couldn't believe he woke Draco up. Harry thought he was getting a bit better at silencing charms and keeping it down anyways. "I'll, er, I don't think I can sleep again."

Draco cutely tugged on his sleeve. "Keep me company until I sleep then."

'But what if I fall asleep and wake you up again?' Harry worried. But then he took one look at Draco's stern expression— the one taking no 'no for an answer' business— and hesitantly nodded. He gingerly lied back down, watching as Draco started lying down as well.

Two seconds passed before Draco suddenly spoke and said, "I miss the manor."

'What the fuck?' "Why?"

Draco did something that looked like a shrug. "I miss how it used to be." His eyelashes fluttered before shutting. "It may have gone to shit now, but before... before, it was wonderful. It was my home. Now, I can't even think of it in that way."

Harry nodded, thinking back to the Burrow. It was the best home he could've ever hoped for— it was much smaller than Hogwarts but the atmosphere was filled with love, support, and appreciation, and such things were more than enough for Harry— but with images of a dead Weasley family member flashing in his mind, he didn't know whether or not he could think of it the same way ever again.

Harry took Draco's hand again, squeezing it as a form of reassurance. It was more for himself than for the blonde, and he hated how selfish he was when Draco was clearly in pain as well.

"What did you used to do?" Harry asked quietly. He wanted to know everything about him. Well, everything Draco was willing to tell him. "Before Hogwarts? Before everything?"

"Everything and nothing," he responded. "I used to play instruments and get into trouble an unconventional number of times."

Harry snickered, remembering the many tales of Draco and his obsession with chocolate frogs. 'Obviously.'

Draco promptly continued. "My father taught me magical endurance and politics, and my mother took me to the gardens to sit under the trees and laugh at the peacocks."

It sounded like such a ridiculous childhood. "Peacocks? Seriously?"

"Yes. They were quite lovely. With feathers as extravagant as the gold from El Dorado and names as priceless as the constellations in the midnight sky."

Harry snorted. "Just say that they're as posh as you are, Draco."

The blond let out an over-exaggerated gasp. "Oh, how you wound me."

"Alright, so you used to go on picnics with your mum."

"They weren't picnics," Draco corrected. "More like... unconventional outings. Mother and I would go out on the nights with nothing but blankets when the moon is nothing more than a slight silver, and she would tell me extravagant stories. Whether it be about our ancestors or of an inanimate object such as hats, she would weave a story that made me wish the night never ended."

Fucking hell, Harry wished their night never ended.

Because right now, they didn't have any titles. They were just Harry and Draco, two idiots talking about one of the idiots' past instead of sleeping like normal people.

"What's your favorite?" Harry asked. When Draco's shoulders tensed, Harry thought he crossed a line he wasn't supposed to. But, he still wanted to know. "Will you tell me? Please?"

"I... well, alright," Draco sighed. "My favorite is one of Sirius."

"Sirius?"

"Yes. It had been the first time she mentioned him to me, and Father had been incredibly disappointed when I told him so. He didn't want me to believe Mother."

"What did she say?" he asked, completely ignoring the mentioning of Lucius Malfoy.

"Mother said he was the most honorable and loyal man she ever had the pleasure of meeting, and she told me how Sirius would never be capable of doing what everyone had accused him of doing." 'That's him. That's Sirius,' Harry thought. He found himself liking Narcissa Malfoy more and more. "Once Mother made those things especially clear, she told me a story about how a tiny puppy somehow wandered into a lion's den and was excluded for being an outsider. But then, a team of fierce cubs took him under their wing, and by the next time those other lions saw him, he became a guard dog who fought off two big, mean hippogriffs."

Harry could just see a tiny version of Draco curling into a ball and whimpering whenever his mother greatly exaggerated her stories. (Draco probably inherited the dramatics from her and he probably had nightmares about hippogriffs afterwards.) Just upon thinking that thought, Harry barely managed to hide a smile. "No wonder you were afraid of them in third year."

"It wasn't fear."

"You're right. You were terrified," Harry teased. When Draco huffed, he murmured a soft apology. He didn't mean it of course. The image was adorable. And Draco would most likely smack him if he ever heard him say so. "Do you have another favorite?"

"Story?"

"Yes."

Draco hummed, the sound pleasing Harry's ears. He wondered if Draco could sing.

"Oh," Draco added, his eyes shining happily, "if I remember correctly, Mother enjoyed telling me tales of how constellations came to be, and they were all ridiculous but I loved it. Usually, she'd tell me about dragons breathing fire into the sky and how my name's constellation was burned into the galaxy. It was either that about a thousand dogs managed to fly to the the moon and jumped off it to form the Canis Major. Oh, there was this one interesting one about how a dove's path of flight formed the dove constellation and another of how this one archer shot an arrow into the sky, and when the arrow exploded, the bits and pieces of it got stuck... All of the stories were ridiculous, but it was everything to me."

"That... those stories does sound ridiculous."

"It was. But I loved it. I loved sitting there under the trees and listening to my mother. I loved falling asleep under the stars and waking up to see one of the peacocks making a funny face at me. I loved playing the little violin she would bring out whenever I was feeling particularly down and she claimed she wanted to hear me— I loved being the reason why she smiled." He paused, the tips of his lips spreading into a gorgeous smile. "Everyone is beautiful when they do."

Harry's breath hitched. He couldn't agree more. "Did she not do that a lot when you were a kid?"

Draco shook his head. "She did, but they were usually forced."

"Oh. Because of her, how many constellations do you know?"

"All of them," Draco replied, completely serious. Harry blinked. That's... so Draco. "Merlin, I know all of them. I was so interested in Astrology, Mother brought a tutor in from New Zealand to teach me. Under her care, I learned almost everything I could about stars, constellations, planets, moons, and so on." He paused. "Why? Do you want me to point them all out of you?"

"You would if I asked?"

"Of course." Then Draco suddenly sat up and tried to drag Harry out of bed. "I've never gone to the Astronomy Tower after curfew, but I believe everything would look incredible."

"I don't have the cloak."

Draco rolled his eyes, casting a charm over Harry with a slight flick of his wand. He shuddered, feeling a aura of heat surround him. "We're wizards, Harry. Warming charms exist."

"I know, but that's not what I meant," Harry grumbled.

Draco shrugged. "Come on."

"Without the cloak, we'll get in trouble." For some reason, Harry was really looking forward to getting caught. Sure, he would use the Invisibility Cloak to sneak out of the Gryffindor Tower to... do things, but he never once tried to do so without it. But at the same time, he was immensely disappointed. The cloak would've meant he and Draco would practically have to hug in order to fit underneath of it. He wouldn't need the stupid heating charm.

"The only trouble you're going to get in is with me, and it'll happen if you don't get up from that bed," Draco deadpanned.

"Draco—"

"I'm on the squad, if you don't recall," he drawled, interrupting Harry. "I'll simply make an excuse as to how I caught you out of bed after curfews and everything will be fine. Even if it wouldn't, I thought you wouldn't have minded. Seeing that you are Harry Potter and getting into trouble is technically the only thing you do consistently."

Harry frowned. He hated using his name to get out of things. It never felt right.

Not even two floors up, they were caught by Snape, who was more than pleased to see Draco. He bribed Draco with chocolate in hopes of convincing him to not scare him in such a way again. Draco nodded, but Harry knew he was way too pleased about the chocolates to listen. He shuffled uncomfortably under Snape's scrutinizing stare.

"Potter," he sneered.

Harry remembered the talk he had with him several days ago and held his ground. "Professor."

Draco ruined their silent battle with a loud snort. "Severus, you have to begin calling him 'Harry' at some point."

Harry could never understand how Draco could call him by his first name and not lose fifty points and gain fifteen detentions.

"Absolutely not," Snape sneered. "This little slimeball doesn't deserve to be on first-name basis with me."

Rolling his eyes, Draco stuffed the chocolate into his robes' pockets. "You've already given him chocolates before. I believe that is first-name worthy."

"No. You tricked me into that," Snape snapped. Harry grinned. Hell yeah they did. And it was bloody awesome. "What are the both of you doing out of bed?"

"Taking Draco to the dorms," he quipped. Snape narrowed his eyes, clearly displeased with his answer for absolutely no reason.

"We're heading towards the Astronomy Towers," Draco replied just moments later.

"I thought you were going to lie."

"Your lie sucked," Draco replied, sticking his tongue out. "Besides, he's my godfather. I can't lie to him without facing repercussions. What if he revokes my chocolate-in-the-dorms rights?"

Of course Draco would care more about that than losing house points.

Snape sighed. "Do I even want to know why you're going to the Astronomy Tower at one in the morning?"

"To look at the stars," Draco brightly answered. He just looked so excited, it solidified the fact that Harry was in love with him— "Harry here is completely daft and has asked me to teach him all of the constellations and the like. It was rather difficult to explain without looking at them, so we are."

Harry took it back. He was not in love with Draco at all. He was, in fact, pissed and horrified. How dare Draco assume he doesn't learn anything in Astromony? He learned very much these past few years, thank you very much.

"At one in the morning?" Snape repeated.

"Yes."

"Why are you even awake at this time?"

Draco shrugged. "I took a long nap, Severus."

Snape stared at him for several long moments before sighing. "I did not see either of you. Now hurry along."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Shit, really?"

Draco stomped down on his foot, making Harry groan from all the pain. "Thank you, Severus. Good night."

Snape didn't say anything in reply, simply stepping past them and turning at the end of the corridor.

"Did you have to step on me?" he hissed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be such a baby, Harry. We need to get going before someone else comes and isn't as lenient."

'McGonagall and all the other professors are more lenient than Snape,' Harry thought silently. But, with Draco firmly tugging him along, Harry didn't want to speak up. He especially didn't want to speak up when they arrived at the Astronomy Towers and Draco beamed like a kid being given an award.

He watched silently as Draco excitedly walked around, the slight tilt in his head telling Harry that he was disgusted with the dustiness and overall messiness of the classroom. Harry, not wanting to watch Draco's disappointment for much longer, glanced around. His eyes settled on a rustic ladder.

He cleared his throat. "Hey, I think we can go up some more. I don't think we can sit here anyways."

Harry then let go of Draco's hand, picked the ladder up, set it against one of the walls with a latch, and started climbing it.

In Harry's opinion, it was too windy and the exact opposite of beautiful. The ball of light— Harry would remember it was called the moon if his brain would just let him— disappeared behind thick clouds and his breath made his glasses all foggy, preventing him from seeing any of the stars. The night's one saving grace was Draco.

In Harry's opinion anyways.

He turned his head right when Draco took a seat on the roof, his eyes bright with admiration and adoration and cheeks lightly flushed. The wind blew on Draco's hair softly, making him appear even more aristocratic than he already is. Harry's breath hitched.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The stars? The rooftop? The view?

Harry didn't know what the hell Draco was talking about, but there were an infinite number of ways he could've responded to him.

And yet all Harry could do is stare and have his breath stolen away from him. No, not stolen. Harry let his breath be taken away.

Hell, he wanted it to be taken away.

Because if it hadn't, Harry wouldn't've snapped out of his daze to breathe. It was his little hourglass, but instead of counting down an hour, it counted down however many seconds Harry could go on without breathing. If would be his Tempus charm telling him to snap out of it and to realize just how creepy staring at Draco for far too much time was. But, by Merlin, Harry didn't want to snap out of it.

Not because he wanted to avoid yet another nightmare implanted by Voldemort, but because Draco was so fucking gorgeous, Harry would rather lose the ability to breathe forever than look away from him.

He was never one for romance, nor was he one for poetry, but if Harry was given the opportunity to describe how Draco's beauty had affected him, especially this version of him that he himself was granted the honor to witnessing, simple enough for the entire world— both worlds maybe— it would be this:

Imagine a cold, dark cave. You have lived there for your entire life. The only thing you can see is darkness, and the only thing you can hear is the sounds of your friends and mentors breathing beside you. Every once in a few days, a few people you don't recognize start talking and one of those friends or mentors are taken away from you. You fear you will be next. But then, you are told you are allowed to leave the cave. You don't need to, but you can. And when you decide to, you're terrified of what is awaiting you outside. You're curious to see what you find. And so, you take very slow steps towards the outside world.

For the first time, you feel warmth.

For the first time, you hear birds.

For the first time, you are blinded by light.

For the first time, you are live.

And it's glorious.

It's so goddamn glorious.

That is what walking into love with Draco Malfoy is like.

Because of the stories Pansy, Blaise, and Theo told him, Harry walked into love with the childish, chocolate-addict Draco. Because of the haunted, tired look in Draco's eyes after holidays, Harry walked into love with his solidness that couldn't quite be knocked over with by whatever had bothered him (Death Eaters and Voldemort apparently). Because of the hushed conversation with Hermione that Harry had overheard months ago, Harry walked into love with the mindfulness and kindness Draco had so freely demonstrated. Because of the parties and the pianos, Harry walked into love with the carefree, talented Draco.

There were so many sides of Draco Malfoy— like a mirror that showed different reflections simultaneously. And Harry walked into love with each and every one of them with his eyes and arms wide open... well, he had a feeling he started running back then. He probably walked into it during first year like Ron said the other day. In actuality, Harry didn't know when it actually happened.

"Yes," Harry managed to croak after his personal hourglass went off. He silently gasped for air and tried to remember what Draco asked him. "It's really beautiful."

And Draco, oblivious to Harry's poetry waxing, snickered. "Look at the sky, you idiot. We've come for the stars and there aren't any on my face."

'You shine brighter than any star,' Harry quietly thought.

"I know," Harry admitted. He did have a feeling he stared at Draco for too long for it to be comfortable for him. Just to make him just a tiny bit more at ease, Harry turned towards the sky and analyzed the dark sky he had studied for the past few years or so. In all honesty, he didn't come for the stars.

He came for Draco.

Speaking of Draco... he was named after the dragon one, wasn't he? He was probably dying to talk about it— he'll probably wave his hands around and try to tell Harry about it, staying oblivious to how Harry already knows all about it. He would just let Harry stare at him silently, and he would just let Harry love him silently.

"Which one's yours?"

Draco leaned over the edge, his eyes skirting around as he looked for the familiar constellation. All of a sudden, Draco tugged on Harry's hand while trying to point it out for him. Harry let it happen, smiling when Draco tried to apologize.

"My apologies," Draco said excitedly, raising his other hand and pointing somewhere in front of him. "It's over there. Can you see it?"

"I... I don't know what it looks like," he lied.

Instead of being suspicious of him, Draco turned his head towards Harry, flipped Harry's hand so his backhand was facing towards the sky, and drew the dragon constellation using his pointer finger twice. Harry tried not to focus on the fact that he was suffering from heart palpitations. 

"I'd be able to show you better if we had a telescope," Draco huffed, pouting a little. "It's a shame Professor Sinistra always hides them away after classes."

"We can look again on Wednesday," Harry offered. He'd love to be given another chance to simply sit with Draco and hear him chattering excitedly. He was pretty sure he'd never get bored of hearing Draco's silvery voice.

Draco accepted his suggestion with a slight nod. "Alright. And while we're at it, we can look for Sirius's star and the Lupus constellation. Perhaps even Cassiopeia and Cepheus, if we're lucky enough to find them."

Harry's brain screeched to a halt. "Wait. 'Sirius'?"

"He is my cousin. Of course he is named after a star as well, Harry."

"Huh. Well, are the four of them some of your favorites? Sirius's included?"

Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "Merlin, what is it with you and my favorites? But no. The first two are Sirius's and Remus's constellations. Seeing as you didn't know about either of these, I've made the right call."

"What about the last two?"

"Hmm? Oh, Cassiopeia and Cepheus are two of the most major constellations in the sky. I find them the most beautiful ones. Their main stars aren't as bright as Draco's or Sirius' ones, but they're still a delightful color."

"You say that a lot about things," Harry commented. "Er, that they're beautiful that is."

'It suits you.'

"Well, there's nothing wrong with voicing my appreciation for beauty, Harry. You ought to start doing the same," Draco advised. "Give a compliment or two. It can work wonders on people's perspective of you."

Harry scrunched up his nose. 'You're beautiful. Will you think I'm in love with you if I say that? Will you hate me if I say that?'

"Is there something wrong with the way people think of me now?" he asked. "I mean, everything they write about me is absolutely bollocks anyways."

"Yes," Draco quipped. They shared a serene smile before Draco turned towards the moon and closed his eyes. Harry would stare at him for forever if Draco let him. "Have you ever longed to be someone you can never be?"

Harry blinked. "Er, no." Then he thought back to how he can't go anywhere without being recognized and decidedly changed his answer. "Well, actually, yeah. Literally anyone other than me would be wonderful, actually. I wouldn't even mind being Montague."

Montague, although Harry may recognize him as the bloke who flirted with Draco during mealtimes, was ignored by anyone else. He was a ghost in comparison to Harry's annoying, famous life.

Draco gasped, sounding both offended and confused at the same time. It was cute.

"I'll have you know Montague makes an excellent cake. You should be honored if you receive the opportunity to be him," Draco scolded. Then he playfully bumped their shoulders together. "So why does our dearest Harry want to be 'literally anyone' else?"

'Dearest Harry, dearest Harry, dearest Harry, dearest Harry.' He could listen to Draco saying the same thing over and over again and he wouldn't even mind.

Harry managed to hide his admiration with a small shrug. "Just... everyone's always looking to me like I'm Hermione and can pull answers out of thin air. It's either that or waiting to see me do something half-decent. And then the moment I don't, they tell me off and say I'm making everything up. Not to mention how if I even look at someone, we both make the front page of the Prophet and not in a good way. Well, it's never in a good way in my opinion. And it's— I'm just tired of it."

He blinked several times, not even realizing what he said until after he said it.

Draco nodded sympathetically. And Harry remembered what Theo said about the pureblood beliefs of perfection— which Harry righteously believed Draco had already achieved.

"And you?"

"What about me?" Draco asked in return.

"Did you ever think you wanted to be someone else?"

"Oh. Right." He shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable. "Yours had a brilliant argument so mine feels a bit embarrassing now." He took a deep breath. "If I had a choice, I'd like to be someone general. A Muggle, perhaps."

'A muggle?' "Are you serious?"

"Obviously not. I'm Draco," he joked, earning one of Harry's sassy, yet amused eye rolls. He knew introducing Sirius to Draco was going to smack him in the back of his head at some point. "But I'm not jesting. I understand it sounds odd, especially since I practically muggle-shamed Hermione and demonstrated a particular hate towards Muggles, but it's true. Can't you think of how much more simple our lives would be if we weren't wizards?"

Harry disagreed.

He would rather kill himself than live in a world without magic. Had it been their reality, one thing would be clear: he wouldn't be able to fight back against the Dursleys. His one hope would be college, but who would accept a malnourished, ugly child with horrible grades and good housework skills into a prestigious school? He knew who he was before magic, and he knew who he became after magic. 

"Just try to picture it, Harry. No magicked stairways, no nosy, cheeky ghosts, no books trying to bite your hand off..." Draco laughed at that. "Oh, and maybe pick up a few useless, muggle hobbies here and there. Of course, you'd still have your heroic Gryffindor adventures and I'd still be bitter you haven't told me of all of them. And, even without magic, all of it would be wonderful."

Harry found himself agreeing a tiny bit. But, at the same time...

"I like the sound of it but... but, you do realize that if we weren't wizards, we never would've met right?" Harry asked bitterly. He couldn't imagine a world without Draco anymore. If he could, he knew it would be a depressing and boring world.

Draco snorted, folding his arms. "Like hell we wouldn't have."

"No, I'm serious. You have the manor and I have... the Dursleys," Harry explained lamely. He couldn't explain it properly. Draco did used to think Harry had an extravagant childhood after all. If he learned Harry was the equivalent of a house-elf on Privet Drive...

"Don't be such a pessimist, Harry. That's my job after all. Besides, I like to think even if we didn't have an infamous rivalry for one of the muggle sports in which my team always topped yours—" Harry snorted at this— "we would've met at some point. Maybe we wouldn't have gone off on the wrong foot and we wouldn't have to worry about things we have to today."

'Huh.' Harry smirked. 'Imagine that. A world in which we became friends instead of arch-enemies. Maybe we would be dating by now.'

"Maybe you wouldn't've been a git," he found himself saying instead.

"With how many times you've called me that, I'm beginning to think you've forgotten my name, Harry."

Harry let out a dry laugh. From the beginning of first year, Harry had etched Draco's name into his heart and mind— it had been 'Malfoy' in the beginning, but it eventually turned into 'Draco'. It had been for the wrong reasons, of course, but Harry knew he would never be able to forget Draco. 

Draco, who tried to hide his illness because he thought it would worry his friends. Draco, who tried to convince everyone sending him into enemy territory (the Malfoy Manor could be referred to as such now) was a brilliant idea. Draco, who didn't once complain whenever Harry said something to him.

"Like I can."

Draco stared at him, something unreadable in his eyes. "You know, you're right about what you said earlier."

Thinking for a split second he heard correctly, Harry's neck snapped towards him. "Did you just say that I was right?"

"Is that really so surprising?" Draco laughed. "It's not like you're a complete idiot, Harry."

'Fuck, fuck, fuck. That's two compliments in a row,' Harry freaked out.

"So what are you talking about? I mean, why am I right? What did I say?"

"About how everyone looks towards you for answers, yet ostracizes you the moment they hear something they dislike." Draco smiled down sadly. "Like how you told me you could 'tell the wrong sort' for yourself. I obviously disliked that."

Harry nodded. "I'm not going to apologize for that. You insulted Ron."

"I wasn't expecting you to." Draco waved him off. "You were right then too. Ron was and still is a good bloke. If anything, I should be apologizing to you."

"So are you?"

"Pfft, no. Don't jest, Harry." Draco grinned. "Besides, we were talking about how people can change what they say about you in a blink of an eye. I'm not about to stray from it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Apology accepted."

"I didn't apologize."

"No, but you complimented him. It's close enough, Draco."

"I did?" Then Draco shook himself loose from the thought. "Harry, stop it. I'm trying to speak with you."

Harry simply grinned but upon seeing Draco's barely concealed glare, he cleared his throat. "Alright. So you were saying I was right...?" He bumped their shoulders together, repeating the action Draco had done earlier. 

"I don't think I'd like to tell you anymore," Draco huffed. "You're being a complete and utter twat."

Harry's grin widened. Draco definitely hated admitting it, which made him feel ten times better. "You hate admitting it, don't you? That I was right?"

"You wish. I don't even know what I was going to say."

Harry called bullshit. "You already talked about the Prophet and Ron—"

"I did not mention anything about the Daily Prophet," Draco interrupted.

It implied.

"— so I think you're going to talk about professors or something like that."

Draco snorted. "Fair, but no."

Knowing he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of him, Harry decidedly changed the subject. "So what was up with Snape earlier? He didn't dock points."

"Of course not. I was there. I'm the light of his life," Draco said, pulling a chocolate frog from his pocket and holding it out for Harry. For some reason, Harry found himself agreeing. Snape definitely had a soft spot for this adorable, blond Slytherin. Harry himself could relate. 

"Self-conceited git."

"Nosy ponce," Draco drawled. He cracked a small smile. "Now do you want me to show you all the constellations or not? You did ask me earlier."

His grin widened. "Alright. Fine. Go ahead."

Draco rolled his eyes, but complied anyways.

And as Draco began to excitedly chatter about them, Harry felt a bit uneasy. So he leaned away slightly and tried to cough the uneasiness away. He figured it was due to the winds; he hated how it began to feel a bit more chilly. He wasn't going to let it get in his way though. Draco was telling him something important.

Well, it was mini tutoring session on the Astronomy Tower. A very much needed tutoring session, Harry quickly figured. He could've sworn he learned something from Astronomy, but he sobered up and realized he had been too busy being bored half the time to learn anything from the class. Therefore, he learned zero to nothing in comparison to Draco's vast knowledge.

Harry wiped his hand on his robes, pausing when he felt wetness against fabric. It resembled the feeling of a clean sock in a puddle— disgusted and uncomfortable.

Sneaking a glance, Harry felt his spirit boost and burst at the same time.

His hand was bloodied, and there was an unmistakenable narcissus flower petal lying on top of it, standing out against the dark red smears on his hand.

Fuck. It's contagious.

Chapter Text

It was late when they made their way back to the Hospital Wing. Not even three constellations in— alright, Draco had really taken his time in telling Harry all about each of the constellations and was so excited to tell him about his ancestors' names he lost track of time— Harry started dozing off. Although Draco wanted to throw hands because Harry was the one who had asked, he didn't complain as they walked through the dead corridors. Granted, he didn't complain because he was still excitedly describing Cepheus with Harry, who nodded along without once looking away from Draco.

They slipped into the same bed, not wanting to raise suspicions by waking up on the same bed. Draco certainly didn't complain about that either. He rather enjoyed watching Harry fall asleep and thinking of various things before sleep claimed him. Well, it also helps that Draco was well-accustomed to the warm hand engulfing his own (after all, it was like a mini hug!).

In the morning, when Draco woke up and realized Harry left him, he nearly flung himself off a cliff and went into another bloody fit. But then Harry popped out of nowhere, decidedly dragging him out of the Hospital Wing once giving Draco two minutes to fix his robes. It wasn't nearly enough time, but Harry refused to give him any more. The bastard didn't even give Madam Pomfrey a chance to plead for Draco to let her call in some healers from St. Mungo's or to tell her the specifics of the disease.

Although, Draco had to give Harry some props: he did, after all, wake up to Harry smiling like he hung the moon and the stars to the sky.

'Today will be a good day.'

"What are we doing here? Why are you like this?" Draco asked. Harry had finally stopped dragging him away from the Hospital Wing, but they were now standing around in the near-empty courtyard. "So... weird?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not being weird. I'm happy. Everything's finally alright and we have Snape first thing—"

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with Harry?"

"Don't be such a git."

Draco's gawking didn't cease. For a moment, he didn't think he heard correctly, but the annoyed and exasperated expression on Harry's face told him of otherwise. "You can't exactly blame me. If my memory serves me correctly, you don't exactly like Severus."

"To be fair," Harry interrupted, "I did not know he was capable of not being a slimy git."

At that, Draco snickered. "He does come across as that, but Severus is capable of being a caring individual."

"Pretty sure it's just to you."

"And he has a rather respectable hair routine. His hair is no way shape or form 'slimy'," Draco added, shooting Harry a glare when he looked like he wanted to refute that statement. "Forget Severus and his hair for a moment. Why are you so giddy today?"

Harry smirked, something he must've picked up from Blaise or Theo while Draco was unconscious. It ridiculously suited him, but Draco wasn't about to admit it out loud and risk having his head explode from all the self-imposed embarrassment.

"Alright, fine. Last night was pretty fun and, while you were sleeping, I realized we could prank our friends first thing in the morning. They obviously don't know you were awake since yesterday so I thought it'd be really funny if we waited until it was nearly breakfast time— that's when they first checked on you these past couple of days— and scared the living crap out of them."

Draco raised a hand, not needing Harry to say anymore. "So why are we here? The Great Hall is inside the castle, not outside."

Harry's smirk transformed into a bright smile. "I thought it'd be best if we stayed near the courtyard so we could see them coming better."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why not the Great Hall then?"

But, before Harry could say anything, Chang ran up to them with her cheeks slightly red.

"Harry!" Then she seemingly noticed Malfoy, smiling awkwardly towards him. "Malfoy."

"Chang," Draco greeted back. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what the hell she wanted with Harry. Valentine's was over and DA meetings weren't scheduled for another few days. If the date had been moved up, Draco's fake galleon would've let him know of it. Whatever she wanted, it couldn't have been good.

"Cho?" Harry sounded just as surprised and suspicious as Draco was. Harry glanced towards a group of girls who were nearby, nearly all of them giggling and sending not-so-sly looks towards them. Draco narrowed his eyes at them, wondering what the hell Chang, Edgecombe, Abbott, and Turpin were trying to do with Harry. He prepared himself for the worst: homophobic comments. Or... Harry-phobic comments? Draco doesn't think he's ever been attracted to someone other than Harry now that he thought about it. Sure, there were the occasional blokes whom Draco thought was attractive, but his emotions towards them weren't quite as enhanced as they were for Harry. So, Draco supposed, the correct terminology was 'Harry-phobic' then. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" she replied.

It was said a bit too quickly for Draco's liking, but Harry seemed to buy it.

What. An. Idiot.

"Just—" and here it was— "why are you holding hands with Malfoy?"

'What?'

Draco looked down and, sure enough, he was holding hands with Harry. He couldn't believe that he didn't notice it the entire time. Well, their fingers had been interlaced for the past couple of hours and they must've started holding hands again when Harry pulled him outside of the Hospital Wing. Or maybe they just never let go of each other. After Draco's lie came out, Harry had been ever-so-willing to hold his hand again. Maybe he thought it'd be permanent.

But, before he could let go, Harry's grip around his hand tightened.

"Just because," Harry replied ineloquently.

Draco sighed, bringing up his other hand and rubbing his temple tiredly. "He's making sure I don't run off and ask Hermione to be my second for a duel he proposed just the other day."

"Shit, I really thought you had forgotten about it," Harry huffed. "I even complimented you for Merlin's sake."

"I don't know how pointing out someone's scent is a compliment, but whatever you say, Harry."

"Well, if Hermione's your second, Pansy or Blaise will be mine."

Draco hummed. "Excellent choice, but wouldn't Ron be jealous he isn't be your second this time around?"

Cursing, Harry huffed. "Damn, can there be thirds then?"

"No."

Harry then paused, looking up thoughtfully. "Fourths then? Bend the rules a bit?"

"And give you the opportunity to bring Theo onto your team? Absolutely not."

"I mean... you could've brought Montague and Cassius, but fine. I guess you're just afraid of losing again," Harry playfully challenged. "You're afraid you'll never win against me, aren't you?"

Draco snorted. "You wish. You forget that I know more than you do, and with Hermione on my side, there will an endless number of jinxes we can cast."

"Too bad she can't cast one on your cold, dead heart."

Rolling his eyes, Draco playfully bumped into his shoulder. "Too bad she can't get rid of your godawful snoring."

"Said by the one who drooled on their pillow."

"Are you dating?" Chang abruptly asked, interrupting Draco and Harry mid-conversation.

Draco blinked. "Us?"

"I wish," Harry grumbled.

"What?"

Harry looked at him as if he had no clue he was the reason why Draco's chest was filling up with hope and his heard won't let him calm down. He was, of all things, confused. "What?"

Draco wondered if his response was instinctive or impulsive. He didn't know which sounded better to him: Harry not even thinking before saying it or knowing what he was thinking and saying it anyways. 

"No. Like I've said, he's simply making sure I don't coax Hermione onto my team," Draco explained, his eyes still trained on Harry. "It won't work though."

"We'll see." He tightened his grip around Draco's hand, a challenge clearly written in his eyes. Then Harry cleared his throat and faced Chang, who had this weird expression on her face. Relief? Joy? Draco honestly didn't care. "Cho?"

"Sorry, what did you say?"

When Draco snickered, Harry jabbed his side rather harshly. "Draco!" he hissed.

"I can't help it, Harry. She said it precisely the way you do. Now, if she just had green eyes and a clearly-conspicuous pair of glasses..."

"Merlin, Draco, you're such a git," Harry groaned.

"That's me." Then he glanced towards Chang, unwillingly turning towards her as well. He had so wanted to prank his and Harry's friends. After all, if there was anything Draco loved more than chocolate, it would be being an utter menace for his House. Harry, of course, was getting to the top of Draco's list but would never surpass his love for chocolate and terrorizing others. "Was that all?"

Chang's face turned bright red, and Draco prayed to Merlin she wouldn't ask Harry out while they were holding hands. It'd be mighty awkward for Harry to reject her and for Draco to wish he was six feet under. "You look much happier now, Harry."

'Since he doesn't have to worry about me dying any time soon, he probably is,' Draco thought silently as he awaited Harry's answer.

"I... I am?"

"Why in Merlin's name do you sound so confused?" Draco drawled.

Harry's cheeks flushed. "I just didn't expect her to say that."

"It was unexpected," he admitted. "But did you have to sound so confused? Look, now you're making her think you aren't happy at all."

"Her or you?"

Definitely Draco. He thought he did a rather good job of distracting Harry the night before. There was this one moment where Harry fell silent, but Draco knew he was just feeling a bit sleepy at the time. Was Harry still shaken up from whatever nightmare he had? Draco could only pray his nightmares weren't as bad as Draco's. And, Merlin, he wouldn't know what he'd do if Harry's turned out to be worse.

Harry's thumb rubbed the back of Draco's hand soothingly.

"I didn't think that way," Chang replied hastily. "It was just something I noticed, that's all."

Draco stared at her for several long moments. Then he sighed. "So you stopped us from surprising the hell out of our friends to tell us an observation you made? When you could have waited until our plan was executed perfectly? Which, by the way, could've been five minutes from now."

"Yes...?"

"In Ron's wise and very much useful words, 'bloody hell.'"

"Draco, did you have to sound so annoyed?" Harry snickered.

"Well, I am. I thought she was going to talk to us about something important." Draco shot a nasty glare towards her. He now knew the name of the bitter feeling he had held towards her: jealousy. After all, Harry did fawn over her in fourth year and sulked when she went with Diggory... and Draco knew he would've known why Harry had been attracted to her if he had simply redirected his attention away from Harry.

Bur, some things were easier said than done.

Harry sighed. "Ignore him."

"Oh, and Marietta wants to rejoin. She's sorry for quitting unexpectedly the other day," Chang interrupted.

'Edgecombe?' Draco thought. 'That reluctant Ravenclaw who is terrified of a detention with Umbridge? The one who was giggling the loudest over Chang approaching us moments before?' He almost immediately disapproved. The DA was no place for puny, whining idiots who were more inclined towards betraying them than protecting them if the slightest bit of trouble came their way.

Draco's perspective of her may or may not be due to the fact that he hates her annoying voice and her atrocious hair.

"The DA?" Harry asked.

"Harry!" she hissed, throwing a pointed glance in Draco's direction.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I already know of it, Chang. My name's on the list if you haven't seen it recently."

"Wait. Aren't you on the squad?" she asked.

Sneering, Draco raised an eyebrow. "Yes, and what of it?"

"Harry, clearly you see there's a conflict on interest here."

Harry stared at her dumbly. Draco rolled his eyes again. "She's trying to hint towards the fact I might snitch on your little club."

"But you wouldn't!"

"We don't know that for sure," Chang replied.

"Look, Chang, as much as your concern is appreciated, I know where my loyalties lie, and I certainly know to not run my mouth where it isn't needed."

"Alright, let it go, Draco. She's not trying to insult you." Draco immensely disagreed with that statement. "And just bring her to the next meeting, Cho. We can't get rid of the scorch marks, but it should be fine if we have her resign the list there."

That was another statement Draco disagreed with. The time period of two or three days was more than enough time for Edgecombe to get nervous again and tell Umbridge.

"Chang, may I meet Edgecombe first?" Draco asked quietly. "I'd like to speak with her."

"Why?" Harry asked, his grip around Draco's hand tightening. Chang silently asked the same question.

"Am I not allowed to talk with someone other than you, Harry?"

"Er, no."

"It's important anyhow," Draco said, redirecting his gaze to Chang. "It'll take no longer than a moment, I'm afraid."

"Right now?"

"Of course."

Chang shot a not-so-conspicuous look towards Harry before nodded. "I'll go get her."

She then turned on her heels and made her way towards the group of girls who were giggling a few minutes before. She tugged a Ravenclaw with reddish-blonde hair towards them. She was no longer giggling. In fact, she looked especially uncomfortable. Her eyes seemingly darted away when she met Draco's calculating gaze.

"Draco—"

"Relax, Harry," Draco cut him off. He sent a reassuring smile and squeeze to Harry's hand. "I will only be gone long enough to Chang to tell you what she really wants. She won't tell you anything with me there, and I really do need to speak to Edgecombe anyways."

"About your...?"

"No. Why would I talk to her about it?"

Harry visibly relaxed. "Fine."

Marking Harry's reaction as one he would definitely look into, Draco let go of Harry's hand. He missed the warmth immediately, but chose to ignore it.

"You are welcome to listen if you'd like," Draco offered. "I just need to ask her a few questions."

"About?"

Draco shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."

He then folded his hands behind his back, his eyes narrowing when he noticed the way Edgecombe's hands were folded in front of her lower abdomen.

It was an interesting little gesture, which most would pass off as a nervous tick but Draco knew better. His mother taught him those who chose to use this gesture were nervous, yet wanted to show confidence and respect. And, what made her reaction even more interesting was the fact she generally treated everyone without respect and she was never one to appear nervous.

Perhaps, she had a problem with those with higher standing.

Edgecombe's mother did work with Draco's father in the Ministry. Well, his father was her mother's boss. Regardless, Draco's father was an intimidating individual who held a considerable amount of power in the Ministry, and Edgecombe knew Draco knew of this. This, of course, means Edgecombe would be in a vulnerable position once talking to him.

But, if there was nothing for Draco to worry about, she certainly wouldn't be.

Draco figured she was going to put on a fake facade in front of him, and he was pleased when her nervous expression changed into one of neutrality.

"Malfoy."

"Edgecombe," Draco stoically greeted, pretending as though he was as cold as his father. He raised an eyebrow when she glanced towards Chang. "Something the matter?"

"No, of course not," she replied, her jaw tight. "Cho said you wanted to talk to me."

Draco resisted the urge to slap a legitimate answer out of her. He took a look at Harry's confused expression to calm himself. "Yes. Let's speak over there."

She followed his lead docilly, walking in step two spaces behind him.

"What is it?"

Putting on his best Lucius impression, Draco snapped his head towards her. "I think you know precisely what it is."

Edgecombe visibly stiffened up. Her left hand gripped her right tightly. "I don't understand."

"You think I do not notice the way you are reacting? The way you are hiding something—"

"I'm not!" she interrupted, the tone in her voice telling Draco all that he needed.

"So you are hiding something." He took a pause, the Malfoys' signature sneer painting his lips. "Edgecombe, this is unacceptable. Keeping secrets, that is. You know how it is in the Ministry, don't you? If they find one of their own betraying them..."

"I'm not betraying the Ministry."

"Oh really? Nothing to do with Chang and Potter?" Draco asked, his sneer worsening. Edgecombe looked away. "If so, tell me precisely any interesting bits you know about Hogwarts. I'm not sure if you heard, but your mother is in an incredibly shaky position in the Ministry concerning some speculations of betrayal. I'm sure my father would do everything in his power to ensure that your mother wouldn't be relieved of her duties once you've settled my worries."

Truth be told, Edgecombe's mother really was in trouble with the Ministry. When the Daily Prophet had sent out its latest edition a week prior, Edgecombe had her mother's face splashed all over it. It was the only other thing circling the hallways other than whispers of the Valentine's party in the dungeons. Of course, this new edition didn't mention why she was newsworthy, but Draco was willing to bet Edgecombe didn't know either.

He watched the way doubt shrouded over her face and remembered why he used to idolize his father so much. The manipulation his father was capable of pulling off was respectable. Not that Draco approved of such conduct. It always left a weird feeling in his stomach whenever he had to do so (which usually meant to learn of what others thought Harry was getting up to) and Draco was never able to understand how his father never felt guilty.

But if he could snuff out a potential traitor and protect Harry from facing the repercussions of the formation of the DA, Draco knew he could put the feeling aside.

"She's not... she would tell me."

Draco laughed sardonically. "What? Tell her only daughter that she's on the verge of losing it? Make her only daughter panic when your only concern should be Professor Umbridge deciding you whether or not you will be a great fit for the Ministry in the future?"

"That's..."

"You know my father knows all the ins and outs of the Ministry." He paused for the dramatic effect. In the corner of his eye, Draco saw Harry approaching. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was ruffled, but Chang wasn't skipping away or anything so he figured it was just the cold. He put a mental note to cast a heating charm for the Gryffindor idiot. "Therefore, you do realize he could put in a good word for you and your mother, right?"

And, as he expected, Edgecombe spilled the beans on the DA. Draco's hands itched to throw a hex as he pretended to listen in to her frantic explanations. When she was finally done, Draco smirked.

"I see. Well—" Draco's eyes somehow wandered towards Harry again, who appeared absolutely livid a few feet away. The anger wasn't directed towards Draco though. It was towards Edgecombe. And it was disturbingly attractive. Draco held up a hand to Harry, telling him to back off for a bit longer, and although Harry wanted to argue, he complied. It didn't mean his fists weren't clenched beside his sides though. "I find it fascinating how you easily susceptible you are. It's also interesting how you can contradict your words with your actions, Edgecombe."

"Wait, what?"

"You failed."

"I— what?" Edgecombe asked stupidly. "You already know about it?"

"Of course, you blithering moron. It was obvious and I'm not an oblivious idiot. Now— and this threat may really shock you, Edgecombe— before you start blabbering about this conversation to anyone else, whether it may be to other members of the Inquisitorial Squad or to Umbridge, consider this: the hex Hermione has prepared for traitors will be nothing in comparison to the string of curses I will unleash upon you. At this moment, you're rather lucky Harry wouldn't want me to do so, but if you betray him and the DA, I'm sure he wouldn't exactly mind." He paused, lazily taking his wand out of his pocket and glancing towards Harry. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

"You shouldn't be threatening her, but yeah."

Edgecombe jumped, her eyes wide as she realized Harry was right behind her. Her eyes widened impossibly when Draco grinned and redirected his gaze to her. She looked so terrified, it was actually pretty amusing.

"You— you and—"

"Perfect. Tread carefully now, Edgecombe. I don't particularly care, but keep in mind that Harry's the only wizard who can possibly stop me from cursing you until you can't even think straight. Betray him and he won't be there when I do," Draco advised. Then he relaxed and waved mockingly at her. "See you this Saturday, Edgecombe."

As she practically cried as she ran off, Draco stepped towards Harry with a triumphant smile.

"I forgot how much of a git you can be. That was..." He struggled for the right word. "That was manipulative."

Draco didn't know whether that could be considered a good thing or not, but Harry didn't exactly look angry. It was safe to bet that he wasn't. "Like you aren't grateful I saved your little club just now," Draco responded.

"Oh, I am. Thanks," Harry said, the odd expression leaving his face. It was quickly replaced by a wide grin. "It doesn't mean you aren't a git though or that she'll go to the meeting now."

"She will and she won't say anything," Draco assured. "Intimidation works wonders, Harry."

Harry playfully rolled his eyes, slightly holding his hand out again. Extremely pleased Harry did so, Draco took it and interlaced their fingers. If Harry confronted him for doing so, he'll just lie and say it helped him feel better. Harry would just let him be. He was wonderful like that.

"Sorry," Harry muttered as they began walking again.

Draco blinked. "Why?"

"For making you do something like that. Marietta... she..." his voice trailed off.

Shaking his head, Draco let out a low chuckle. "Don't be. You didn't make me do anything. I wanted to."

"Then the 'sorry' is for that night," Harry replied. Draco cocked his head to the side, not understanding which night Harry was referring to. "Valentine's, I mean. I didn't know you were hurting until the morning. If I just stayed longer..."

Eyes widening, Draco was quick to reassure him.

"It's not your fault." Alright, so it was most definitely Harry's fault, but if Draco agreed with him, he'd have to explain why Draco had a fit after Harry rejected him and that was a mess Draco would rather not unravel. Had Harry shown the slightest interest towards feeling the same way as him, Draco would gladly out himself... maybe he had and Draco didn't see it? Was it wrong for a bloke to hope? "Don't blame yourself, alright?"

"... I'll try."

"I mean it," Draco warned. "It's not your fault. I just—" he paused, thinking about what excuse he could make without it being a complete lie and feeling like a piece of shit. "I woke up from a nightmare and it happened."

"Oh."

While his guilty expression left, a worried one took its place.

"Honestly, I don't remember it," Draco explained quickly. "In fact, all I remember is going to bed after being completely hammered off of two butterbeers— you better not tell anyone I admitted it— and then waking up this morning in the Hospital Wing."

"So you didn't feel anything? I didn't leave you alone when you were in pain?" Harry asked, sounding a bit too worried for his own good. But his eyes were wide with hope, and with such an expression on his face, Draco knew he wouldn't have the resolve to say 'no' even if he wanted to.

"Yes. What time did you leave the Common Room anyways? What time did everything end?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm guessing twelve or eleven. Montague had started to bring people over to play strip poker, but then Snape came to check on us and the mood of the entire party was ruined. He just walked right back out too, not even acknowledging anything."

Draco snickered. "What could he have acknowledged? The nonexistent supporting music? The probably-very-drunk students who glared at him?"

"Oh, right, you didn't get to play a song on the piano. What happened? I thought everything was okay before the party started."

Scowling, Draco explained how some arse thought ruining his beloved piano was a wonderful idea and how Draco couldn't transfigure it into another instrument without destroying the piano completely. Harry nodded along with his story, looking angry when he should've been and understanding when he couldn't be angry.

"You should play again," Harry advised at the end of Draco's rant. "Without having a party though. Everyone was complaining about how tiring it is to clean up and you get drunk too easily."

"I'm sixteen. Of course I do," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "And I'll think about it, Harry. If I do decide to do so, do you have any songs you'd like for me to play? One that would be challenging, preferably."

Harry gawked at him. "What? The songs you played in January weren't difficult enough?"

"Oh, it was. I'm simply curious." 'I want to know what sort of music you like.' "So? Any recommendations, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe "Bohemian Rhapsody"? Sirius—" he caught sight of a few students walking in the opposite direction and made haste to correct himself— "Padfoot told me it was a good song. I never really listened to the radio at the Dursleys."

"Is the 'radio' a muggle invention?" Draco asked, never having heard the word before.

"Yeah. It's this box people listen to music and the news from. Well, the news we usually watch from the telly. Muggles listen to music using the radio or CDs."

"'Telly'? 'CDs'?" Draco wondered. Then, shaking his head, Draco said, "I'll ask Hermione if she has any of those things. We may have no idea what "Bohemian Rhapsody" is, but Hermione most likely will."

Harry nodded in agreement. Then his eyes widened. "Wait. Hermione. Draco, we forgot about all of our friends. I'm pretty sure breakfast is starting, and they're going to scream bloody murder if they walk into the Wing, see you aren't there, and don't realize it's a joke."

Surprised he could be so forgetful, Draco's eyes widened as well. "Merlin's beard. We need to get back before they start accepting interviews from the Prophet and overdramatize our disappearances."

Harry snickered and as he tugged Draco towards the Hospital Wing, he quietly wished if Harry would find he felt the same and snogged him within an inch of his life. Well... a bloke could hope, couldn't he?

Chapter Text

To say their friends 'overreacted' would be an understatement. Not only was Pansy attaching a thick letter to her owl's claws, but she was also dramatically sobbing on Madam Pomfrey's shoulder. Theo, Blaise, Hermione, and Ron weren't faring any better. For some reason, Blaise had a Draco-themed body pillow— and no, the design did not get Draco's good side so yes, Draco will need to have a nice, long chat with Blaise about it— and Theo had a huge basket of red and green apples. They were both wiping their eyes. And, when Draco leaned over to peek past the white curtains, he noticed that Hermione was crying into Ron's shoulder, and the redhead was shaking his head as though he couldn't believe Draco and Harry had disappeared.

Draco and Harry glanced towards each other awkwardly from the doorway.

"Should we... interrupt them?" Harry's eyes asked.

"Yes," Draco's eyes replied.

Harry's hold around his hand tightened, but instead of doing the standard 'hello, what are you all looking for?' Harry's wand popped up. The bastard tugged Draco out of their view and casted a series of silent Stinging Hexes, each aimed to their friends' bottoms. One by one, they yelped and angrily glared around the room.

Draco grinned, pulling his own wand out and pantsying Blaise.

"Who the fuck—"

"Of course he wouldn't immediately pull up his trousers. Perks of having a nice arse I guess," Draco muttered under his breath. 

Harry suddenly burst out laughing, and he tugged Draco towards them. "Good morning!"

All of their heads snapped towards them, relief flooding their faces on a creepy level of synchronization. Their faces brightened up even more when they caught sight of Draco, each one grinning so widely Draco barely noticed Blaise casting a quick disillusionment charm over his ugly Draco bodypillow.

"Harry!" Pansy, out of nowhere, screamed. She broke out into a run— which, by the way, Draco had never seen her do before— only to stop and glance down slightly. She openly gawked at them. As a consequence, Draco glanced down as well, wondering what the hell she had found odd. "Draco?"

Annoyed with her sudden change in attitude, Draco huffed. "You sound so much less pleased with my appearance, Pans."

"What? Of course I'm not. Harry could be burning in hell right now and I wouldn't bat an eye."

"Gee, thanks," Harry deadpanned.

Pansy scoffed, waving him off. She seemingly regained her composure and, this time, she walked towards them instead of running. However, when she was only a foot or two away, she suddenly jumped and crushed Draco's spine with the strength of her hug. Suppressing a pained groan, Draco vaguely heard a voice resembling Blaise's telling him about the terrifying strength of witches.

As Harry's hand slowly slipped away from his, Draco awkwardly patted her back with his left hand. But, instead of letting go and smiling shakily as he expected her to, Pansy slapped the back of his head, put one hand on her hips, and looked absolutely furious with him.

Ah.

That explained her weird change in attitude.

"I ought to do something to you, Draco Malfoy! Scaring us like that and walking towards us with a nothing more than a single 'hello'," Pansy scolded. She released her death trap, glaring at him. Before Draco could even tell her that he hadn't said the greeting, Pansy visibly snapped. "I ought to take this—" she grabbed something behind him, and Draco turned to find she'd snatched a quill— "and kill you with it!"

"This..." Draco tried not to laugh. "This is a quill, Pansy. How in Merlin's name are you planning to kill me with a quill?"

Not looking away, she transfigured it into a silver dagger. Draco, with how close it appeared, had the opportunity to appreciate the intricate design of it. He wondered if he could somehow steal the dagger and transfer the design onto an object to make it a personalized gift for his mother. He did miss giving her a present for the holidays. The Dark Lord keeping them prisoner in their own home wasn't a good enough reason for any Malfoy to forget about Christmas. No event was good enough for that.

Draco's temper tantrum of '86 was proof of the doctrine.

"How about now?" she threatened.

And Theo, always his savior, stepped in. "Alright, Pansy. How about you put the knife away before Madam Pomfrey sees it?"

Although Madam Pomfrey immediately looked towards them, Pansy whipped her head towards Theo and stabbed the air threateningly. The Healer's eyes widened, but she saw Draco and Harry and most likely remembered them leaving quite rudely since she turned away with her nose turned up.

"Let her see. Maybe she'll even add a stab or two for the bloody heart attack this blithering idiot gave us!"

"Things will be okay if you just blame it on Harry," Ron advised.

"Are you kidding me?" Harry snapped. "What did I ever do to you, mate?"

All of their friends laughed, each hiding them behind their hands. Draco himself snuck in a snicker or two and Harry's glare didn't affect any of them.

"Nothing. But at least it'll get them out of trouble."

"Perfect," Pansy purred, turning back to Draco with not-quite-shocking-anymore fury. He already knew his disappearance would have elicited some very dramatic reactions.

"Don't get blood on your uniform, Pans. We might lose a few House points if you do," Draco teased.

"Ugh. I can't believe you'd mock me for having no survival instincts when you clearly don't either," Harry grumbled, folding his arms angrily.

"Shut up, Harry. You're next," she snapped.

Blaise placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Would you like me to help you bury their bodies?"

"No..." Draco whined. He simply could not believe the audacity of Blaise Zabini. "Have you forgotten about my dying wish already? I said I wanted to be cremated and scattered into the wing— oh, but Theo can still let down my casket as he does whenever he's my Potions partner."

"On second thought, don't put the knife away. Pansy, go batshit crazy," Theo said, shooting Draco a murderous glare. "And Hermione, do you know any 'bring back to life' magic by any chance? I want to have a go at Draco after Pansy's done."

"No," Hermione replied, absolutely horrified. But she also looked concerned that she appeared to be the only one not on track with the whole 'let's kill Draco for giving us a heart attack' plan.

"Damn. Don't go batshit then. We need to take turns."

"Or," Harry rudely interrupted, "don't take any at all! Aren't you at least a tiny bit relieved he's okay?"

The three Slytherins and Ron immediately plastered a stony expression. "No."

Draco grinned. Never has he ever respected Ron more. The Gryffindor had an amazing poker face, and his dramatic acting skills were absolutely brilliant. "Come here, you absolute gits."

In an instant, they all surged forwards and squished him to death. Hermione seemingly realized what was going on, and she jumped towards Draco as well. Now, there was an odd lump of green and red squeezing Draco to death in the middle of the Hospital Wing. Draco was thankful nobody outside of them, Madam Pomfrey, and Luna was present. After all, two of these idiots— Draco couldn't see which— started gross sobbing and the other three began muttering about how Draco really should stop scaring the living crap out of them.

And, strangely enough, he had a feeling he wouldn't scare them this bad ever again. Surely the disease would be satisfied with Harry holding his hand. And if not, it better back off for the time being. If it doesn't, Draco wasn't afraid to reach down his throat and threaten their existence himself.

For now, he'll let his friends cling to him like a lost child reunited with their family after years of estrangement.

"Merlin, don't tell me we're all going to squish onto one bed tonight," Draco chuckled. He tried to comfort them by patting their backs and nearly had a midlife crisis when realizing he didn't have enough hands. "The three of you were already heavy enough to nearly break my bed."

"You all slept on the same bed?" Harry asked, his voice tight. He was (sadly) the only one who didn't join the group hug. He was obviously too oblivious to get the memo.

"We did it a lot when we were kids, but we stopped when we came to Hogwarts. And then last November we were so bloody terrified, we ended up bringing back old habits," Theo explained. Then, leaning back so the group could begin dispersing, he turned towards Harry. "Well, I think the four of us are going to do it again. The three of you are welcome to join us."

"That's a bit weird, mate."

Blaise snorted. "Yes, well it's not as though you don't have any weird things about you. Well, I already know one of them: you favor wearing those atrocious orange pajamas to bed every night. Merlin, where did you even get the nasty set?"

Ron's cheeks flushed. "It's Charlie's."

Blaise frowned and Draco knew it was his why-the-fuck-are-you-wearing-hand-me-downs frown. Draco just about opened his mouth to suggest Ron referred to to this nightly set as his own since it technically belonged to him now when Blaise spoke up. "Ron, I'm going to ask you something right here and now and you need to answer me, alright? As truthfully as you possibly can."

Nodding slowly, Ron leaned away from him. "Alright, mate. What is it?"

"What are your measurements?"

Draco gasped. "Hey! You're making clothes for him? You've never did it for me." He pouted, feeling betrayed on levels he didn't know he could feel betrayed for.

"Draco, you said not wearing silk gives you hives," Blaise retorted.

Draco opened his mouth to snap something back when he recalled their conversation from third year. Blaise had suddenly taken an interest in clothing back then, and he asked Draco to give him some advice since he knew the most about cloth— thanks to his brilliant mother. Draco had mentioned how silk was superior to all other materials and then dived head-first into a two-hour argument with Blaise about the best cloth. Let's just say heads were butted, words were exchanged, and wands were raised before Theo came to Blaise's rescue.

And then, when Blaise had decided to start designing and embroidering clothing made of chiffon (which Draco rightfully believed was the inferior version of silk), he wondered if Draco was willing to model for him. And Draco, still furious his opinion was overruled after Blaise had specifically asked for it, told him not wearing silk was going to give him hives. It was a term he had heard from a passing-by muggleborn and he thought it was a brilliant comeback

So instead of rebutting Blaise's statement, Draco pouted and folded his arms against his chest.

"Excuses, excuses."

Blaise rolled his eyes, sighing. "What are your measurements, Ron?"

"Look, mate. You don't need to make me anything—"

Blaise waved him off. "Consider this your late birthday presents. You aren't allowed to reject those, remember? Unless Weasleys have a different way of going about things."

Ah.

Draco was beginning to think Blaise had been sorted incorrectly. Blaise had never successfully manipulated someone before so it was quite a feat. Or maybe he has, but Draco was oblivious to it. His attention had always been on Harry since first year after all. And before that, Draco obsessed over other things such as music, astronomy, and French. Honestly, he knew he wasn't the best sort of friend for Blaise. The only thing he ever did for Blaise was set him up with Cassius, but even that was of the bloke's own doing.

Merlin, Draco was such a shit friend.

No wonder Harry didn't love him.

Draco's chest constricted and his eyes watered at that thought. He managed to fake an easily smile though, playing it off as though he wasn't dying on the inside due to his own self-destructive thoughts.

"I doubt Ron has his measurements," he drawled. He conjured a measuring tape and a piece of parchment paper for Blaise to write the information down. "We should have a bit of time left before runes."

"Runes?" Harry asked, folding his arms. "I didn't know we had that class."

"You don't. We do," Theo replied. "You have Divination."

"Great," Harry huffed.

"Don't be like that. Divination is a brilliant subject," Draco scolded. "It prepares you for Heptomology, Ornithomancy, Tessomancy, Xylomancy, Cartomancy, and so many other brilliant subjects. If I had been granted a Time Turner, I would happily take the class."

Ron shook his head. "Don't. It's bloody boring."

Draco glanced towards him. "You have no taste— arms up, Ron. These measurements aren't about to be taken themselves."

He didn't really look towards Ron to see whether or not he'd complied with his directions because his eyes landed on Harry. And suddenly Draco was feeling pretty sure he only owned one shirt. After all, Draco had never seen Harry wear anything other than the Hogwarts uniform (classes and Quidditch) or the grey t-shirt. He'll try to convince Blaise to make a shirt or two for Harry as well. Maybe he could offer to do a week's worth of homework? 

"If you like it so much, why didn't you take it?" Harry asked curiously, snapping Draco out of his thoughts.

"My father said it served no purpose for Malfoys," Draco replied. He thought back to his father, who had more or less controlled his academic life. Knowing he wouldn't need to work with the inheritance he had from the Malfoy vault, Draco realized that perhaps his father didn't trust him with all their galleons. "I needed to take Ancient Runes in order to understand the glyphs and prophecies of my ancestors. Therefore, Arithmancy was to be my second elective."

"So you didn't choose any of your classes?"

Blaise snorted. "Good thing for it too. He would've taken up Alchemy and show me up."

"Draco, you're interested in Alchemy?" Harry asked, his voice filled with much more surprise now. "I didn't know."

"Oh, I'm not," he reassured. "But, it would be amusing to set impossibly high standards for Blaise again."

"Ponce."

"Prat."

"Git."

"Incompetent," Draco snarked back, the grin on his face unbecoming of a Malfoy. Then again, he hasn't felt like the Malfoy heir for quite a long time. He felt like he was just Draco— maybe it was because he always felt like himself around Harry and by spending so much time with him, it was difficult for him to be someone else. It didn't really make sense since he was always terribly nasty whenever Harry even looked his way, but now that they were friends... Harry was bringing out the Hufflepuff in him. And Draco wasn't exactly sure if that was a good thing or not. 

"Hey Blaise, do you want to be my second?" Harry asked.

Definitely a bad thing then.

"Merlin's beard, Harry," Draco snapped. Then he whipped his head towards Hermione. "Hermione, will you be my second in the duel against Harry and Blaise? You know how your idiot best friend can be incredibly impulsive at times? Well, he challenged me to a duel and practically told me I'd still lose with the greatest witch of our time. I obviously disagree."

Hermione's cheeks flushed at the praise.

"Wait— I thought you guys were okay now," Ron intervened, sounding confused.

Draco managed to pull the nastiest fake scowl he could ever do. "That was before our dearest Harry challenged my dueling skills."

Ron nodded. "I bet Draco and Mione will win then."

"Ron!" Harry gasped. Draco simply smirked, pleased with the turn of events.

"Sorry mate, but Draco's right. With Hermione on his side, he can't lose. And sure, Blaise is good and all, but compared to Hermione? No offense, but he's not good enough."

"Weirdly enough, none taken. It's already a given."

"See? You won't win," Ron stated stubbornly.

Draco's smirk transformed into a grin. He felt bad about how easily Ron abandoned his best friend. Only a tiny bit. "Where's your Gryffindor loyalty?"

Ron snorted, obviously unrelenting. "It's there. But I'm not stupid. Sorry, mate. I'll be ready with two butterbeers when you lose."

Pansy snickered. "Make it firewhiskey and I'm in. Theo has a few bottles in his room."

"How do you know?" Harry grumbled, still obviously upset.

Draco snorted, his hand immediately slapping over his mouth to not show his glee and avoid being castrated by a very pissed of Pansy or Theo. Which, of course, meant Blaise was going to use some of the Gryffindor impulsiveness their lion friends lent them.

"Yeah, how do you know?" Blaise teased, fearless for no reason whatsoever. Draco stepped up and feared for his life for him.

Pansy, of course, scowled. "I steal his books all the time. Of course I know if he has a stash of alcohol in his room."

"Sharing books?" Blaise winked. "Quite romantic, isn't it?"

"Oh, do shut up," Theo snapped.

"You're speaking as though you have never shared a book with Cass before you two got together," Pansy sassed.

"And this is entirely different?" Blaise asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Pansy simply scoffed, folded her arms, and looked away. Draco glanced towards Theo, hoping he would get the hint and snog her senseless. Sadly, Theo looked just as exasperated as she did. And Harry, bless his heart and soul, stepped in before either Slytherin could curse Blaise six ways to next week.

"I feel like this is going to be unfair then. Everyone already thinks you two are going to win. Let's do something different."

"I thought you were the one who was confident you'd never lose," Draco teased. "Why are you backing out now?"

"As if you weren't wrong when you said you could win against me in Quidditch," Harry replied. He smiled, folding his arms across his chest comfortably.

Pansy suddenly squealed, giggling and clapping her hands.

"They've started playing without us!" she exclaimed.

Draco only had a single moment to worry about whether or not she figured his infatuation with Harry out.

"Yes, we all heard. Good for them," Blaise replied. He smirked, his smugness obviously trained to take deadly aim towards Harry. Confused, Draco looked towards him. Harry avoided his silent question by looking to the ground.

"Aren't you sore, Ron?" he pointedly asked. Remembering how he'd ordered Ron around to take his measurements for Blaise's late birthday presents (Blaise would never be satisfied with handing a single gift over and Draco righteously believed Ron deserved more than one set of clothes).

"Actually, yeah. But it's alright if we don't do this now. Breakfast starts soon doesn't it?"

"It started already," Theo informed.

"Maybe we should go then. Think they still have hot chocolate?"

"Yes." Draco then waved his hand dismissively. "Arms up. You'll have your hot chocolate in a minute or two."

Ron complied and, for a split moment, Draco felt a sharp sting of angry magic. Goosebumps scattered across his flesh. He whipped his head towards Harry, his magic quickly finding the source of the angry magic. He opened his mouth to ask his usual, polite 'what the fuck' when he remembered that grey shirt he saw Harry wearing in France and during their Quidditch match. The shirt was two sizes or so bigger than him, but Draco didn't really investigate it; he simply assumed Harry enjoyed wearing shirts twice his size. But... maybe he didn't. Maybe it had something to do with his not-as-safe-as-Hogwarts muggle relatives.

Upon reaching that conclusion, Draco waved him over.

"You too, Harry," he said. "Arms up." Then he duplicated his measuring tape and tossed the other to Pansy. "Will you do Hermione's?"

"Woah. I'm not making three people sets of clothes," Blaise interjected. "I don't have that sort of time on my hands."

Draco rolled his eyes. "These three are going to be the face of our world and you worry about trivial matters such as time? You should be rejoicing, honestly. It will be your brand and name they'll be prancing around in."

Something flickered in his best friend's eyes. "If you accept one or two of your own, I'll happily do it."

Draco was about to snap back 'not wearing silk gives me hives' before he thought back to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. They obviously deserved to wear something suitable for them, and silk obviously wasn't as important to Draco as their comfort was. Harry's, especially. The bloke deserved a good shirt or two.

"Fine," he grumbled.

Blaise's jaw dropped. "Merlin's beard," he whispered. "Are you going to help me buy the materials too? Even if they do give you Muggle hives?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes. Now, arms up. We better write your measurements down before he changes his mind."

But, Blaise did not change his mind at all. In fact, he didn't complain while Draco took Ron's and Harry's measurements. Instead, he kept his eyes firmly trained on Draco, his stare loud enough for Draco to hear it through his silence. Draco dutifully jotted down measurements though. And no, he did not accidentally linger to feel Harry's torso up. He did it with purpose, and he was fairly sure he would die a happy man.

Harry needed to eat more though, and Draco mentally made a note to levitate breadsticks to him during mealtimes.

"— ready for classes, Draco?" Pansy asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," he mindlessly replied. He rolled the piece of parchment up and handed it to Blaise. He patted around for that Black heirloom his mother gave to him— the one that supplied him with whatever he needed. Draco had never tried using it before, but he would be willing to give it a try to avoid touching non-silk material for longer than and few minutes. He cursed lowly when he didn't find it.

His annoyance turned into worry when he didn't feel his ring either.

"Where's—"

Theo helpfully tossed him the Black heirloom, the dark jewel twinkling brightly as it flew towards him. Draco snatched it out of the air, taking a deep breath as he felt the familiarity of it.

"Thank Merlin. Why the hell did you have it?"

"It's something called 'making sure first year Slytherins didn't snatch it on their way out of your bedroom'," Theo kindly replied.

"Why were they in my room in the first place?"

Theo shrugged. "Blaise screamed like a little girl. How could anyone not come running?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I thought Harry was the one to find me. He acted completely traumatized."

There was another sting of magic, but instead of it being anger, it was more of like a mixture of fear and horror. "It wasn't acting. We thought— we thought you were dead."

Hating how he may have accidentally inflicted some real damage, Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and managed to plaster an easy smile on his face. "You're going to wish I was when Hermione and I kick your arse tonight."

"Tonight?" Harry squeaked.

"Don't worry. Pansy has sworn she will be ready with firewhiskey," Draco teased.

Harry groaned and Ron patted his back sympathetically. "Butterbeer too if firewhiskey's too rough for you, mate."

Harry glared at him, but it had no effect on his friend. "Thanks for the support."

Draco laughed, his hand reaching out and grabbing Harry's without him thinking much of it. He felt Blaise's eyes— everyone's eyes, really— but made a show of ignoring him. "Don't go offending him, Ron. We all need a snack or two before your catfight."

"Catfight, my arse," Ron laughed. "He's just pissed I think Hermione's better than him. You’re my best friend, Harry, but you have to admit she is brilliant."

Draco glanced towards Hermione, whose face was now so red he was pretty sure one more compliment was all it was going to take for her head to explode like muggle dynamite. 

"I know. But there better not be any 'best friend' feelings," Harry grumbled.

"Far from it, I'm sure," Draco coaxed. He caught Hermione's eye, winking and wiggling his eyebrows. But, alas, the witch appeared like she was too busy thinking about a certain red-headed, fifth-year, brilliant-at-chess Weasley to notice his subtle teasing.

"Hey, do you think Snape will give us another day or two to complete our homework assignments?" Harry asked, leaning closer so only Draco could hear him.

Draco snorted.

Severus may be a good man, but he was a good man who hated tardiness. And parties. And failure. And children. And practically everything else in the world. But tardiness was definitely on the top of his list of hated things. In fact, Draco was sure his godfather would rather choke to death on a glass shard than extend a homework assignment's deadline for Harry. Especially for Harry.

Apparently, he has this grudge against Harry since before he was born. 

"No."

”Fuck."

"Good luck. I'm sincerely grateful he is my godfather."

Which didn't mean that Severus would let him off the hook— unconscious or not, the man hated changing schedules for a single, nearly-dead student— but...

"Don't be such a git."

Draco smirked, that familiar tingle in the air letting him know Harry hated the 'unfairness of it all'.

"I'll try."

Chapter Text

"Draco," Harry whispered under his breath.

Draco glanced towards him, his attention not exactly leaving the Potions book set in front of him. "Yes, Harry?"

"Do you want to be my partner?" he asked, his voice a bit shaky and distracted.

Draco's head immediately shot up and he searched Harry's eyes for a possible explanation as to why he'd willingly leave Ron and Hermione. And then he glanced towards their table, realized they were learning about Amorentia today, and grinned widely.

"Of course," he replied. He moved his bag to his left side, making some more room for Harry. He sat down, a breath of relief audibly leaving him.

"Thanks, I really didn't want to be..."

He awkwardly waved in the general direction of Hermione and Ron before taking his seat beside Draco. Understanding him completely as a person who would have been the victim at Pansy and Theo's table, Draco smiled and bumped their shoulders. He hastily reminded himself that this was the first time they ever made physical contact in public (minus the situation where Chang interrogated them for hand-holding and Draco scared Edgecombe off in Harry's name). Which, of course, meant that all of their classmates would openly gawk at them.

Draco believed the intensity of their gazes were much stronger than they were in January, which was when he and Harry had successfully tricked Severus into handing them chocolate in the Great Hall.

His smile grew wider at that thought.

He wondered if he could get another frog or two during his godfather's lecture. Harry would love that, wouldn't he? He would just laugh and start crying tears of joy while asking Severus for one himself. Well, in any case, Draco might turn up dead tomorrow, but at least Draco would die happy.

"It's alright. I believe you can't be as bad at Potions as Theo can. It's rather easy, I presume. Just don't daydream about Pansy Parkinson when you're supposed to be aiding me," Draco teased, batting his eyes innocently as he turned towards Pansy's and Theo's table. Harry stifled a laugh when a pointed glare was shot towards them. "Oh, and do let me know if our dearest Harry can't read the list of ingredients on the board."

Draco realized he'd been doing that a lot lately— calling Harry 'dearest', that is. He didn't even know where it came from. He just said it one day and he couldn't stop himself from repeating the endearment. Draco feared the day he started referring to Harry as 'my love'. Severus would have a stroke and Harry would look at him as though he was mad.

But, Harry was thankfully as oblivious as ever. He didn't even hesitate before rolling his eyes. "Let me know if our dearest Draco can't finish three days' worth of assignments two minutes before Snape walks in."

Draco laughed. "That's rich coming from Mr. We-make-the-potion-before studying-it."

Harry's smile could have cured muggle diseases. "Well, now that I know what I'm doing, I might become better than you in Potions, Draco. You better catch up."

"You're just giving me more reasons to hex you tonight."

"... I think this should be a standard one-on-one duel, Draco. It really won't be fair if you have Hermione while I have... Blaise."

"Hey! What was all that disappointment for?" Blaise hissed behind them. Draco turned back, a playful smirk painting his lips when he found him sitting next to Longbottom. He instinctively knew he needed to look back when Blaise embarrasses himself so he could place the memory into a pensieve and demand that Pansy exposed their best friend on his wedding night. "I'm no filthy commoner! I am a bloody King, and you know it."

Draco and Harry shared a glance before wheezing.

"Git," Blaise hissed.

"Ponce," Draco chuckled, wiping a tear from the side of his eyes. "You're hilarious, Blaise. Truly."

"And, if anything, Draco's the King of Slytherin," Harry said.

"Mate, you are, at best, the bishop," Ron added from two tables away. Hermione nodded in agreement.

Instead of adding on with another cheeky comment, Draco quickly jotted down a few lines on his parchment paper. He was lucky that the only assignment was to take notes from the book, which Draco no longer needed after scanning the contents once. He looked up, satisfied with his work, right as Severus walked through the door. Draco handed the parchment to him with an easy smirk.

"Seventeen minutes," he informed.

Severus rolled his eyes, setting Draco's three day's worth of assignments on his desk. "You are very lucky that you only missed two classes. Any more and Narcissa would've had to hear a thing or two about your work habits."

Draco's smirk didn't cease. He knew precisely what Severus meant even though he had such a Slytherin way of saying it: 'don't ever get in the Hospital Wing for an extensive amount of time ever again'.

"Yes, Professor." Then he bowed his head slightly to demonstrate that he understood his secretive meaning before heading back to his joint table.

"Ugh, what a git," Harry grumbled. "Did he have to threaten you?"

Draco chuckled. "It wasn't a threat, Harry. He's saving us by pretending as though he didn't see us last night. It would be mighty odd if he ignored my... situation completely."

"Couldn't he say it nicer?"

"If he was 'nice', I'd be as shocked as I was when you told me you were excited for Potions today," Draco replied. "I'll let you know when he's being sincere."

Harry shook his head disbelievingly.

Severus began his lecture, which Draco pointedly ignored. He already knew what Amorentia was: a potion made to imitate love. The potion smelled different to every person, but the consumption of it would create various degrees of borderline obsession. As the potion is incredibly advanced and dangerous, Draco knew he had to be even more careful than he was on a normal basis.

The only thing he was excited for was to see Harry in mock-love with him. Maybe— and Draco was exceptionally hopeful for this— his Hanahaki would be able to see Harry's affection and decidedly get rid of itself. Even though it would be fake, at least Draco would feel loved by Harry. That should be enough...

"I hope you're half-decent with a knife," Draco said. He collected a few ashwinder eggs, leaves of peppermint, moonstones, pearls, and roses and set the cauldron to simmer under medium heat. It should give them enough time to prepare the ingredients before brewing the potions. "I'll crush the pearls and ashwinder eggs. If you can cut off a few thorns and remove the petals from the roses, that's be lovely."

He and Harry set to work, which was surprisingly easy to do. They worked so seamlessly, only pausing for a moment when Harry asked if he should cut the thorns individually or if he should cut the stems to separate thorns. By the time their ingredients were well prepared, their cauldron was bubbling rather perfectly. Even Severus, who was always looking to embarrass a student or two, couldn't bring himself to take a few points off of Gryffindor.

"He was being sarcastic, wasn't he?" Harry grumbled when Severus stepped away to sneer at Longbottom. "I bet he just didn't say anything 'cause you did everything."

Draco smiled, shook his head, and grabbed Harry's hand with his right one. It was an uncharacteristically bold move, but Draco was too pleased to care. Their ingredients' preparation was brilliant, and Harry did everything perfectly. He couldn't help himself from complimenting him (even though he knew this would earn several second glances from all of Hogwarts).

"No, he knew we worked together. There was nothing to say because everything was flawless. Especially the rose thorns. I don't think I could've done it as effortlessly as you do," Draco admitted. Had he done it, he knew his fingers would be stinging all over. He knew he would overdramatize everything, and his friends would add this to their list of ammunition against him. Harry's execution made it appear easy.

Harry swallowed. "That's because the Dursleys..."

Draco's imagination flew into wild directions. For a single moment, he compared Harry to Dobby, one the Malfoys' house-elves before Harry had intentionally set him free. Dobby was always hard-working; he got down on his knees and scrubbed the tiles instinctively, he enjoyed the most simple luxuries, and he was rather handy with a knife. The first was because he was a house-elf who specialized in cleaning, and the last was because he happily partook in cooking. For a single moment, Draco thought that he'd been treated like a house-elf with his muggle relatives— the hands-and-knees cleaning, constant self-degradation, and knife agility one could only see after years of culinary practice all pointing in that direction.

When that moment passed, Draco was horrified to believe in it. It hurt him something fierce to believe in Harry being treated in this thankless way.

"It doesn't matter," Draco soothed. "You're the one who executed this perfectly, not them. You're rather brilliant, Harry."

He then scooped some of the crushed pearl dust up and sprinkled them into their cauldron. He picked up the brewing utensil and stirred counter-clockwise three times before stirring it clockwise four times. He mentally counted to fifteen before asking Harry to dash the leaves of peppermint in.

"Why did you tell Blaise to make me something too?" Harry asked quietly. His voice sounded weird, like whatever he was expecting was going to hurt him in some way. Draco, unlike his last four years at Hogwarts, was determined not to.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I? If Ron gets a birthday gift or two from Blaise, then you and Hermione should get some as well. It wouldn't be fair had he been the only one to receive a gift."

"Oh." Harry's face did this weird thing that Draco found nearly impossible to decipher. "I thought..." Draco hummed, quietly asking him to pass the ashwinder eggs. "Nevermind."

"So what do you think you'll smell?" Draco asked conversationally. He already knew precisely what he was going to smell: treacle tart, broomstick cleaning kit, and afterrain. Afterrain was what the world smelled like after harsh rain— peaceful, clean, and wonderfully addicting. Draco planned to hide these three from Harry, of course. He was going to say something totally random and pray to Merlin that nobody smelled like the random list of scents he was going to throw out.

Harry relaxed before handing Draco the rose thorns. "Dior Sauvage."

Draco tried to think of another bloke who wore Dior Sauvage like he did, but came up empty. Whoever it was that Harry fancied, Draco had to begrudgingly admit the bloke had impeccable taste in cologne.

"And?"

Harry closed his eyes. "Dior Sauvage, chocolate, and..."

He abruptly shut his mouth, his cheeks bright red. Draco both thanked and cursed the mystery bloke in his mind. He was grateful to see Harry's blush, yes, but he was pissed it wasn't because of him. Draco had to force the flowers in his lung to overlook this fact.

"He must have good taste," Draco said bitterly.

Of course the bloke had to have good taste in cologne and chocolate and have Harry's affection. Bloody bastard probably didn't even know how good he had it.

But, Draco sincerely hoped the bloke suffered when Harry tested their perfectly executed Amorentia potion and had an unhealthy (temporary) obsession with Draco. He also hoped Harry and the mystery bloke never get together because of it. This was terrible, terrible thinking, but Draco somehow felt righteous for feeling in such a way. Besides, if anyone had been doing Legilimency and confronted him, Draco could simply say that his flowers have begun messing with his head.

"Yeah..." Harry replied, his voice sounding very far away. Red jealousy pulsed through his veins when Draco thought about Harry thinking about someone else. It hurt; Draco wasn't anything more than a friend to Harry so he didn't even have the right to be jealous. "What about you? I know you don't really know about, er, the person but do you have any guesses about who or what you're going to smell?"

Draco slowly shook his head even though his heart screamed 'Harry!' "No idea. This is going to be a surprise to me."

"Alright, well, let me know then. We can figure out whoever this is."

Draco nodded, pretending to be exasperated. "I can't believe Pansy, Theo, Blaise, or I never realized we could've just done it through Amorentia. Well, it probably came up once or twice, but Severus— Professor Snape—" Draco quickly corrected when he felt a murderous glare aimed at the back of his head— "would have our heads for going against his specific lesson plans."

Truth be told, Draco didn't mind too much. If not knowing it was Harry meant that they became friends, then he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Of course. Hand me those moonstones, won't you?"

'Wouldn't it be hilarious if I just said I didn't smell anything?' Draco thought as he continued to stir their potion. It was a wicked idea, but Draco lived for wickedness. Harry and all of his friends would freak out— Draco could pretend as though maybe he fell in love with a magazine idol or something, which is why he couldn't smell anything— and the look on their faces would definitely be worth it. Admittedly, he felt like an arse, but... well, Draco needed a laugh or two after everything that went on.

And if he could somehow hide his interest in Harry— especially from Harry himself— Draco would be damned if he missed the opportunity.

"I feel like you're up to something," Harry muttered under his breath, his grip over Draco's right hand tightening. Although he was a bit pleased because of the painful reminder of Harry's warmth, the blond did his best to avoid glancing downwards. He thankfully succeeded.

"Potion brewing, perhaps," Draco replied.

He sprinkled the rose petals into their cauldron and smiled happily as the thick scent of Harry slowly appeared before assaulting his nose. All three of his guesses were present with the addition of wooden shavings, masculine laundry detergent (Draco didn't understand how a bloody laundry detergent could smell 'masculine'), and Harry's hair. It was incredibly intoxicating.

Perhaps he could somehow convince Severus to let him keep a vial or two. He'd need to promise something of equal value of course; he hoped Severus wouldn't ask Draco to not ask him for chocolate frogs for a week. That would be going too far, but Draco wanted to be able to surround himself with anything of Harry's for as long as possible. Even his scent. It may be a bit strange and weird, but Draco had once single-handedly charmed a thousand buttons to promote Cedric Diggory while degrading Harry. In comparison, having a vial of Amorentia with him to enjoy the constant reminder of Harry was not as odd.

"Are we done?" Harry asked curiously.

"Nearly," Draco promised. "We need to let it simmer until it turns into a brighter shade of pink. Harry, will you get a few vials from Severus while we wait? We should bring a sample to him before one of us drinks it."

Harry slowly nodded, getting up from his chair and heading towards Severus. Once he was out of earshot, the unexpected happened.

"Merlin, am I dreaming?" Longbottom asked, his voice somehow filled with wonder and horror at the same time. "Did I just see Harry and Malfoy holding hands? Am I losing six galleons to Dean and Seamus? Was Ron really not joking when he said he, Harry, and Hermione became friends with Malfoy?"

Blaise was pointedly ignoring him, which was what Draco probably should have done.

"No, yes, I don't know who those two are, and no."

"Merlin." Longbottom sounded as though he was two seconds away from fainting. "I thought he was still hung up on Ginny— I really hope Ron doesn't kill me for saying that out loud— but I guess he was just worried about coming out as bisexual to all of us. Well, he shouldn't have. And, Merlin, this is bloody awkward, but are you and Harry dating?"

Draco silently hoped he choked on his and Blaise's Amorentia attempt and died. "No."

"But you fancy him? Or he fancies you?"

Draco hoped Longbottom suffered tremendously before he choked and died. But, before Draco could voice these thoughts to the obviously suicidal Gryffindor, Blaise shoved a spoonful of the Amorentia potion into his mouth.

"You owe me," Blaise muttered as he dealt with a Blaise-obsessed Longbottom.

Draco nodded. He didn't know what he owed Blaise for, but he supposed it was for saving him from Longbottom's odd questions.

He thought Ron, Harry, and Hermione wouldn't've kept any secrets from the rest of Gryffindor. Perhaps it was a bit prejudiced, but Draco always thought all Houses had a habit of keeping everything to themselves until their cup overflowed. Every student of each House knew every person of their House's business— Draco's disease didn't count since it was life-endangering but even if it did, his Hanahaki wouldn't make it past the walls of the Slytherin Common Room. This prejudice stopped Draco from thinking that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had a tendency to keep to themselves.

Longbottom's voiced questions oddly soothed Draco though.

If Slytherin secrets were kept within the walls of the Common Room and Harry, Ron, and Hermione never spoke about their problems to other people, the chances of his father hearing of the past few weeks were exceptionally low.

Draco quietly thought of his mother. If his mother knew of his disease-developing affection for Harry... would she be angry? Would she disown him just like his father would?

No.

No, his mother would be shaken, but she would never cut ties with him. Draco knew his mother loved him in ways she couldn't quite demonstrate due to her upbringing. She might be against it at first, but she would come around.

His father on the other hand...

"I don't know how you ever convinced me to be the person going up to Snape. He took ten points off of Gryffindor for my 'audacity'," Harry grumbled as he plopped himself down into the seat next to Draco. He handed him three empty vials. "You're going to be the one who tests this by the way. I can't lose any more points or else Hermione's going to have my head."

Draco stopped pouring their completed potion into vials and stared at him silently. The potion wasn't going to work on him. Draco already loved Harry; Amorentia doesn't work if the drinker was already in love with the potioneer. Well, maybe it'd be a weird turn of events since Draco was the one who technically brewed and stirred it.

But—

Draco wanted to see Harry fall over himself for Draco. It would never happen in real life so this class was the only chance Draco had at it.

His brain strained to think of several reasons as to why Harry should be the one who took it. But, in the end, he settled for easy manipulation.

"Harry, don't you believe in my brewing skills? Do you think our ingredient preparations went faulty?"

Harry visibly panicked and Draco internally cheered. "What? No! I mean, I do believe in you, but I don't think we did anything wrong."

"See? Then you can't possibly lose any House points since our potion is perfect," Draco replied. "And wouldn't you like to win those ten points back? I'm sure Severus— Professor Snape would gift some to Gryffindor once he sees the perfect effects of our Amorentia potion play out."

"I mean, I guess..."

"Besides, I was the one who actually added the ingredients and stirred the cauldron. Wouldn't it be more fair if you were the one to test it, Harry?"

Draco batted his eyelashes in— what he hoped to be— an innocent manner. Whatever it actually was, it must've worked because Harry cursed lowly before taking a swing of one of the vials.

Harry blinked twice before launching himself towards Draco. He was acting every bit like Longbottom and every other dosed student (except for Pansy and Ron, but Draco knew it was because their potions' partner was coincidentally the person they were in love with) and yet there was something different about him.

It bothered Draco.

Draco's name coming from Harry's lips at that very moment didn't sound any different than it did on a regular basis. His emerald eyes weren't glazed over. He wasn't waxing poetry.

Harry was just... repeating his name and hugging him like a touch-starved child. Not that Draco knew what being touch-starved by his mother and father felt like.

"It didn't work, did it?" Draco asked glumly.

Almost immediately, Harry dropped the fact. "No."

Draco sighed, hating how bloody incompetent he was. He glanced over towards the board, scowling as he tried to figure out where he had went wrong with the potion.

"Alright, so I dropped the thorns when I should've dropped the petals. It shouldn't have completely gotten rid of the effects of Amorentia. In fact, it should have enhanced the strength of the potion. Rose petals have a certain chemical attribute that, when added as the last ingredient to any potion, enhances the intensity or time span of the potion," Draco muttered to himself. "We followed all instructions perfectly so why doesn't our potion work?"

Draco's scowl worsened when he noticed that everyone else's potion worked perfectly fine. Well, not Pansy's since she was partners with Theodore can't-brew-an-academically-approved-potion-correctly Nott and not Hermione's since she was partners with Ronald I-hate-Severus-and-potions Weasley. But Draco? He worshipped Severus's potioning abilities as a child and mindlessly did everything Severus did. He practically grew up surrounded by potion ingredients and books. Not to mention how he himself approved of everything Harry did; he couldn't blame Harry even if he wanted to.

Draco couldn't think of a possible reason as to why their potion failed. Well, he could think of one, but Harry would immediately crush his hopes and dreams so he couldn't exactly say it aloud.

Merlin, Draco was such a failure.

"Er... Draco?" Harry asked.

Draco's head snapped up. "Yes, Harry?"

"I think it's my fault. You know, the reason why it's not working," he admitted quietly.

A few strands of his dark locks draped over his eyes, making him look like a kicked Niffler. Draco's fingers itched to fix Harry's signature messy hair, but he barely restrained himself. Then, something became clear to Draco.

"Of course!" he nearly shouted. "You're immune! Why didn't I think of that? You must have built up an immunity after those witches gave you Amorentia-dosed chocolates for Valentine's a few years ago. There is nothing wrong with our potion, but it doesn't work on you because you're already used to it!"

"Er..." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah."

Draco frowned. His ecstatic mood dropped. "Do you think differently? Was I wrong?"

Something akin to panic flashed in Harry's eyes. "No. I mean, I was just surprised at, er, how quick you figured it out."

"Well, I was surprised at how long it took me," Draco huffed. "Honestly, why didn't I expect this? If you can live after the Killing Curse had been cast on you, win the first Triwizard tournament in decades, and cast a corporeal Patronus, why wouldn't you be capable of overcoming the strongest love potion of all time?"

Then, without hesitating, Draco turned and handed a vial to Blaise. "Here. You test it."

"Absolutely not," Blaise huffed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Professor Snape, can Blaise test our potion for us? Amorentia doesn't work on Harry— on Potter, so I thought it'd be best to find a better test subject."

Severus waved an approving hand and Draco triumphantly thrust the vial into Blaise's chest.

"Have I ever told you how much I hate you?"

"I'll put this in a pensieve and relive these hilarious moments to my death bed," Draco swore, his eyelashes batting innocently. "Harry, you'll do the same, won't you?"

"Yeah." When Draco glanced towards him, he was pleased to see a cheeky grin.

Blaise's glare intensified. "When both of you are dead, I'll be sure to tell everyone what arses you were to me so they would overlook my history of brutal murder."

Draco laughed. "Cassius will have a lot to say about that, I'm sure."

"Yes. Something about approval." Blaise took a swing.

Chapter Text

"Malfoy," Severus called a minute after class was dismissed.

Draco hummed in acknowledgment, froze when he realized who had called his name, and slowly brought his gaze up to meet his godfather's. Harry stopped moving and looked up as well, no doubt feeling just as confused as Draco felt.

After all, Severus rarely called anyone up after classes. Perhaps he'd done it once or twice when a particularly life-endangering situation happened, but he'd never paid much attention to Draco for Potions. He

"Yes, Professor?"

"You will stay after class. You too, Potter."

Draco straightened his back and narrowed his eyes, hoping the blood rushing to his cheeks did not indicate how truly embarrassed he was.

He should've known his outburst would make his godfather want to see him. After all, Severus was a potions master unlike any other; every movement he made when brewing was because of his instincts and his wish to innovate. Draco, like him, should be capable of not screwing over Amorentia, the one of the more easier potions for the NEWT exams. Well, the difficulty is on par with Felix Felicis but...

Still.

Draco should be better. 

His potion shouldn't have failed— he shouldn't have failed.

'Well, technically, I didn't fail at all,' Draco thought. 'Harry was an outlier I should've seen coming.'

But, of course, it'd be a disgrace it he had. His father would never let him hear the end of it, Severus would forever be displeased with him, and his mother would be terribly disappointed. After all, if he failed in one thing, he might as well failed in everything.

Draco shivered.

He could just imagine his future now: he returns to the Manor and barely steps inside his father's study when, out of nowhere, his father's cane slashes him across the face. His ancestors would look down at him in a disappointed manner before calling for his parents to remove his name from all the tapestries.

A gentle touch to his hand snapped him back from his thoughts.

"It'll be okay," Harry assured. He took Draco's hand and gently squeezed to ground him. "I solemnly swear it."

Feeling much better already, Draco smiled and squeezed back. "Alright."

He finished packing his bag before making his way over to Severus's table. He stood quietly, analyzing everything around him and reveling in the familiarity of all the objects his godfather owned. Secretly, he worried he might never experience the familiarity the same way again. When he's disowned, Severus wouldn't be his godfather anymore and Draco would never be able to casually pick up his textbooks and learn from them.

He swallowed thickly and waited in front of Severus with his head held high. "You want to speak with us, Severus?"

"Yes," Severus drawled. He set his quill down, stood up, and walked around his table. Then, taking Draco by surprise, he drawled, "Draco, Narcissa has trained you in Occlumency, correct? Has she begun lessons for Legilimency yet?"

Draco blinked. He'd been expecting a berating about his incapabilities in Potions and a harsh warning of his soon-to-be disowning. He'd been expecting... not a talk about the two fields he'd mastered by third year. 

"Yes, of course. It had been expected of me to excel in both fields, Severus. I believe you learned this Malfoy doctrine when Mother taught Legilimency and Occlumency to you."

"Yes, well, it seems Potter here needs someone with more control than I do," Severus stated blandly.

Draco eyed Harry silently. 'Control?'

He desperately tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut when he saw Harry's totally blank face. He was used to seeing all sorts of emotions from Harry; seeing him without any was more than enough for Draco to grow concerned.

"These past few weeks, Potter has been taking Occlumency lessons from me to block out the Dark Lord. The tale goes that the Dark Lord has been infiltrating his dreams and twisting them into wicked schemes. Therefore, Dumbledore insisted I taught him Occlumency, but I'm afraid there isn't enough risk for Potter."

The information didn't actually register in Draco's mind for several moments. Harry not telling him something as major as nightmares implanted by the Dark Lord hurt him too much for it to be healthy. He thought he would’ve been trustworthy enough to be told or warned about this before his godfather told him. But then again, once cannot sweep four and a half years of hatred and rivalry under the rug in two months. Harry had an brilliant excuse for not telling him. For Draco and his excuse for not telling him the mission the Dark Lord gave him... he was just being a coward.

After those several moments passed, he took a deep breath and forced himself to cast aside his hurt.

Draco needed to do what his father always did effortlessly: think, not feel.

Even though he hadn't been receiving as much updates (see: Motherly letters) as he had these past few years, Draco knew a war was beginning to dawn upon their shoulders. It didn't take a genius to figure it out; Harry's cries of the Dark Lord's return last year was their first warning. Draco's mission and Harry's nightmares were the next few. Or perhaps the war has already begun and wizards and witches alike were doing their best to remain ignorant. 

If the latter was the case, then Draco needed to hastily grab at whatever information he can get. He had a responsibility to somehow use these pieces of information to their advantage. He had to figure out a way to keep Harry safe— from both his muggle relatives and the Dark Lord. 

Draco... Draco owed Harry those things at the very least for all the trouble he's been through.

Severus's request for him to teach Occlumency was just adding onto the pile of his responsibilities that he'd gladly take on. 

However, Draco knew his Legilimency skills weren't as powerful as the Dark Lord's. Even if Harry did manage to block him, he would still be no match for the Dark Lord. The safer bet would obviously be for Severus to  teach him, regardless of his 'riskiness' in Harry's life.

"Risk, Severus?" Draco asked. "I'd assume having someone infiltrated your thoughts is risky enough."

Especially if you're in love with someone on what your parents and ancestors assume to be 'the other side'.

"I assume it's because you are of greater importance to him than I am."

Draco slowly nodded. Friends would be also be higher on his list of importance than professors as well. No offense to Severus of course.

"I see. So you would like for me to tutor him."

"Correct. And, as expected, it should grant you an extended amount of time."

Right. For his mission to kill either Dumbledore or Harry. He already knew he wouldn't be capable of killing Harry, but he hadn't exactly put enough effort into figuring out a way to do anything either. His last report, as well as his loyal attitude, was fake.

"I understand."

"Wait, you're actually okay with doing this?" Harry asked. He sounded so disbelieving Draco wondered if he had been deprived of anyone doing the simplest things for him. Well, Legilimency was a difficult subject to teach so Draco supposed it wasn't a simple 'thing'.

"Yes, but even if I wasn't, there isn't much choice. The Dark Lord has begun his attacks. We need to hone our defenses, starting with yours..." Actually, that gave him an idea. "If it sounds like an alright idea to you, Severus, I suggest we begin training a group of individuals in the art of Occlumency and Legilimency. These individuals would then take on their own groups and so on."

"And why would you propose this?" Severus asked, his tone finally indicating an emotion other than exasperation and annoyance. 

Draco waved a hand. "It's simple. Blood should no longer dictate one's ability to learn. It should not gift privilege either. I suspect a war is upon us, and wars treat wizards— no matter their blood status— the same. Both sides will have losses, but if we learn to master our minds, if we learn to protect ourselves from the invasive abilities of others, our losses will be much smaller than their will be."

"I've never been more amazed to see the Narcissa in you, Draco."

He smirked before straightening himself out again. "I understand Harry will lead our side. A leader must to be strong on their own before they can begin leading others, but they need to be molded to lead others to victory. If my role is to mold him, then so be it."

"You're being..." Harry struggled for the right words. "You're being really mature about this."

Draco did not blush. "I'm always mature," he snarked.

Harry hummed, but didn't exactly look like he was taking him seriously.

"No, this is a rare occasion," Severus savagely interrupted. He narrowed his eyes. "Interesting..."

"What is?" Harry curiously asked.

Severus ignored him, which wasn't a surprise in Draco's opinion while it was in Harry's. "Draco, I'd like for you to Legilimens me. Give no mercy."

Sharply nodding upon the harsh demand, Draco took a deep breath and locked eyes with his godfather. He filled his mind with one thought: find all the potion advancements Severus Snape had once made. He had yet to try and learn these advancements, and Draco would be damned before he let this chance go.

"Legilimens."

Almost immediately, he was greeted by intimidating, creature-infested woods and a peaceful, small stream running around a great wall. The stream— Draco realized after wandering closer— was not small or peaceful at all. It was at least a few meters wide, and hundreds of foot long spikes awaited at the bottom. The only way across, it seemed, was to hop over on those... pebbles. However, those too were intimidating— each one had razor sharp teeth, yellow eyes, and were glaring at him hungrily.

Draco didn't recognize the creature; Draco didn't step into his godfather's mind to die.

So instead of impulsively stomping over those pebbles anyways, Draco turned towards the dark woods. The eerie feeling he felt remained, but something in Draco's gut simply told him the woods was where he needed to venture if he wanted to break through Severus's Occlumency shield and find those potion advancements. Of course, it didn't mean he'd have to like it. Draco was bloody terrified of the Forbidden Forest for a reason.

As he stepped closer, it didn't escape his notice how every detail was specifically designed to keep unwanted visitors out. Each thing— the constantly moving, yet invisible shadows, the red blood moon, the fierce, yet uneasy roaring of the winds— screamed 'danger, danger' in Draco's mind. And yet... and yet Draco knew these were signs he needed to keep going. 

The moment he lost his footing was the moment he lost this Legilimency versus Occlumency battle.

He continued to walk, pointedly ignoring how the trees seemed to loom over him in an intimidating manner. However, when something lightly colored caught his eye, Draco turned and raced to find it. The light didn't want to be found, however. It kept running away each time he drew near, twisting around and dodging his every attempt to snatch it. 

A moment of inspiration struck him when Draco accidentally stumbled upon this odd looking stick. It looked like a 'Y' and it had this weird looking string attached to it. And then Draco remembered what his mother always advised him to do: 'find a rock and throw it.' 

So the next time the light skirted by, Draco had a legitimate (and moderately sized) rock ready in a slingshot. When the rock flew, it blinded the flying light and Draco had an opportunity to snatch it.

He then triumphantly threw it down and crushed it, reveling in the blinding light that surrounded him and erased the dark and dreary demeanor of the woods. When he glanced towards where the wall and the totally-not-dangerous moat, he gleefully noted that the demeanor of those things had changed as well. Right when he was about to seek out the potioning advancements Severus had made, Draco remembered the horrible feeling of a mind intrustion.

Draco quickly stepped out of his godfather's mind, trying and failing to keep the smirk from his face. Severus scowled meanly, obviously hating how he lost the game they played. However, there was a slight glint of pride in his eyes.

"Was that sufficient?" Draco managed to ask politely.

Severus smoothed his stormy facial expression. "Yes. I believe you will bring Potter a great ordeal of trouble."

Draco sure hoped so. He felt like he didn't know Harry as well as Harry knew him. After all, the Gryffindor had stories told to him about Draco. He, on the other hand, only heard rumors from passing-by students. His insatiable curiosity should help him bring Harry 'a great ordeal of trouble.'

"Would you like to test my Occlumency skills as well?"

Draco set his walls up quickly in case Severus decided to Legilimens him without his knowledge.

"No. You'll only need to hone Harry's Occlumency skills. Not yours."

Draco nodded, not exactly letting his guards down though. "Very well. I will not fail."

"Hey, isn't that what I should be saying?" Harry complained. Draco glanced towards him.

"No because I simply won't let you fail like you used to in Potions," Draco teased.

Harry let out a sarcastic laugh. "Thanks, ferret."

"You're welcome, scarhead."

"Figure out a schedule," Severus wisely interrupted. His cold stance slapped Draco back to reality. "Report to me weekly."

"Yes, Severus," Draco dutifully responded.

His godfather flicked his wrist, dismissing them.

Draco let out a sigh of relief as they walked out of the classroom. Perhaps Severus knew about Harry being an outlier to the effects of Amorentia and decided Draco shouldn't be punished for Harry's abilities. Or... perhaps Severus simply forgot about it.

"So how'd you do it?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco pursed his lips. "Well, I stepped on this floating light in the middle of the woods."

There was truly no other way to explain it.

Harry huffed, but he sounded more impressed than frustrated. It was endearingly adorable.

"Fine. Don't tell me then. I've got Divination with Ron next." Harry readjusted his schoolbag and placed all of his attention on Draco. "You?"

"Arithmancy with Pansy and Hermione," Draco replied. "And quite honestly, I'm exhausted by—"

"Draco, come here," Severus's voice suddenly echoed in the hallway. "I'd forgotten to speak with you about something."

'Fuck.'

He bit the inside of his cheek and stopped in his tracks. Harry did the same, looking at him with a worried expression. After all, they had just left. What on earth did his godfather require of him now?

"I'll wait for you...?" Harry graciously offered.

"No," Draco sighed. It wouldn't be of any use. Whatever Severus wanted to talk to him about... Draco had a feeling it might draw a little near to the start of their next class. Harry's Divination classroom was a bit far from the dungeons. "No, go on ahead, Harry. I'll see you during lunch."

Harry nodded slowly. "Alright."

As Harry disappeared down the hallway, Draco walked back to the Potions classroom and stared at his godfather quietly. He luckily didn't have to wait long since Severus casted a warding spell and a silencing one the moment he stopped walking.

"Draco, do tell me what the nature of your relationship with Harry Potter is."

Not expecting this, Draco tensed up. He didn’t exactly know what he could say. 'He's the reason why I have this supposed-to-be imaginary disease?' 'I'm in love with him, but we're painfully just friends?' 'We're friends who act close enough to make others wonder if we're dating?'

There were so many answers Draco could pick, but he couldn't find one that Severus would be pleased to hear.

"Although you are on relatively better terms than you have been these past few years—" Draco snorted at this— "both of you act as though you are romantically involved."

Draco panicked.

"No! We are not romantically involved at all and—"

"And something tells me you would prefer to be romantically involved with Potter." His godfather stared at him quietly. "So I assume correctly."

Draco winced. Feeling emotions for Harry was worthy of things worse than death. Becoming friends with Harry allowed him to trick the Dark Lord and his factions into thinking he was attempting to lead Harry into a false sense of security before hurting him. But being in love with him? 

His father would send him to live with the Muggles.

'But that's what you want isn't it?' the more hidden parts of Draco's mind whispered to him. 'To get away from the upcoming war and live among the Muggles?'

Draco quickly silenced that part of his mind.

"Are you going to tell Mother and Father?" Draco hesitantly asked.

"...no." He let out an audible sigh of relief. "However, this does put us both in an odd situation."

"Both?"

"Draco, I swore to your mother that I would protect and guide you moments after you were birthed. Although I understand your decision to stray towards the Light rather than the Dark..." Severus paused and slowly turned to him. "What is it?"

"It's because I'm not straying towards the Light's side," Draco grumbled. He hated the terms 'Light' and 'Dark'. It made it sound as though all light magic was good and all dark magic was bad. However, it was common knowledge the effect of the magic depended on the wielder of the wand. "I'm on Harry's."

Severus sighed. "Have you, ever once, considered he'd perhaps be interested in entering a... disgusting, romantic involvement with you as well?"

Draco stared at him. "No."

"Why?" 

"There's no reason for him to. If he does feel the slightest emotion for me, it attests to his great stupidity," Draco replied bitterly. Perhaps, had they been born different people, Draco would have a chance and Harry wouldn't be labeled as an idiot. 

"Although I agree when it concerns his level of stupidity, I must ask you this: why do you insist on remaining oblivious?"

"Pardon?"

"Draco, for a period of two weeks, Potter had arrived late to all of his classes in favor of sitting by your bedside. Potter quit Quidditch quickly after." Draco balked. 'He did what?' "He asked Dumbledore for information concerning the Malfoy Manor after you came back to Hogwarts looking both 'pale and exhausted'. He went along with your devious schemes and I assume there have been instances where people think you are already romantically involved, correct?"

Draco thought back to Chang, who had glanced downwards and immediately asked if they were dating.

"Yes, but—"

"So how can you possibly believe Potter would not be interested?"

"He would do those things for any of his friends." Draco protested weakly. "And Chang was just being foolish. It can happen."

Severus sighed and threw his hands up into the air. "Amorentia does not work on the user if the user already has affections for the potioneer!"

"I know that," Draco snapped. His patience was running thinner as well. His godfather was talking in complete and utter circles and expected him to make straight lines out of them. For Merlin's sake, Draco himself wasn't even straight. "Why are you speaking to me about this?"

Severus sighed again.

"Draco, perhaps Narcissa has never told you, but I lost a dear... friend of mine due to my ignorance."

Draco's head shot up. Of all the things he'd expected from his godfather, an admission of a loss was not one. In fact, he thought Severus had never lost anyone before. In Draco's opinion, he was too incredible (Potioneering-wise) to ever lose anyone. But then again, Draco had thought Harry was too incredible to be treated like a house-elf in the fifteenth century so...

"It was my ignorance and stupidity that led to her death," Severus continued.

Draco stared at him silently.

"You'd made a mistake, Severus?" he asked quietly. Somehow, he found it difficult to hear. Severus had always been perfect— well not when it came to his treatment and mindfulness of others— in every way that mattered. To hear he had made a mistake and it'd cost someone their life... it only solidified how horrible mistakes could be.

"Yes. It took me too long to realize how our already-strained relationship was becoming, and as a result, I'd driven her away. I'd just about made amends with her at her wedding when I made an impulsive effort to protect her and her family. It ended up sealing her fate."

"You loved her," Draco breathed.

Severus had loved someone, had treated them right, and he'd lost them. No wonder he was such a prick to everyone else. He'd lost a loved one— honestly, Draco didn't think he'd be kind if his loved one was taken away from him. He'd be cold, angry, and spiteful too.

"Always."

"What... how did she..."

"The Dark Lord killed her due to a prophecy."

"Prophecy," Draco repeated dumbly. He heard talks of a prophecy before when he was walking around the Manor a few weeks ago. It had something to do with Harry, and it had something to do with how the Dark Lord had reason when it came to killing his parents and destroying his family. Draco had hated hearing those words, but he ignored it and spoke to his father like he'd planned to. "You loved Lily Evans?"

Something in Severus's eyes flickered. "How did you come across that name?"

"She's Harry's mother, isn't she?" Draco continued. "Harry had showed me a picture of her. You were there."

Severus eyed him. "That's absurd."

Talking about 'absurd'... Draco was in love with his godfather's beloved's son! Pardon him, he meant his godfather's deceased beloved. Who Severus had somehow caused the death of. Merlin, if Harry asked him about what they spoke about, he better leave that part out of his answer.

"I didn't know you'd been involved with his mother."

Severus sneered. "Don't be ridiculous, Draco. I loved Lily as she was my best friend, as you do for Parkinson."

Draco quietly nodded his head. There wasn't anything else he could have done. It wasn't as though he could use a Time Turner and save his friendship with Lily. It wasn't as though he could somehow erase the prophecy that demanded her to be dead.

"Severus, I need to be on my way to Arithmancy."

Severus pursed his lips. "I hope you begin using your brain soon. Remember what I told you about Amorentia."

Draco huffed, promptly muttering a hasty goodbye and storming out of the classroom. Of course he remembered what Severus had stated about the potion. Even before Severus had pulled him aside to tell him that, he knew this piece of information. He didn't wreck havoc through Severus's belongings when he was nine years for absolutely no reason.

He smirked when he recalled the event. Blaise had bitched the whole time, but he ended up stealing the most materials. Theo had stood guard and practically screamed 'Mother Morgana' when Severus began to retreat to his sleeping quarters. And Pansy, who had been the one who immediately agreed with Draco's insatiable want for potioneering hacks, had ripped her cloak into a long string so they could safely escape. However, Severus had caught up to them fairly quickly.

Wait.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks.

Amorentia doesn't work if the user was in love with the potioneer. No matter who the user was, that rule was going to apply to them.

Draco brewed it. So Harry—

"He's in love with me," Draco whispered to himself. "Harry loves me."

Oh Merlin, Morgana, Circe, and Mordred above.

Chapter Text

Harry was in love with him.

Of all people, it was him! It was him that Harry held romantic emotions for! Draco Malfoy! Of all people!

Bloody hell!

Draco stared blankly at the wall for what seemed to be forever. He couldn't believe how blind he'd been. It was like he'd somehow mastered being an absolute moron. How and why in Merlin's name did it take him so long to figure it out? Why did it taken him so long to see it?

To see the way Harry had deliberately asked him out to Hogsmeade for Valentine's Day. To see the anger and jealousy in Harry's eyes when he spoke to Montague— oh Merlin, it'd also been there when he asked Chang to allow him to speak to bloody Edgecombe. Edgecombe! Of all people! For Merlin's sake, she had the most atrocious hair and an ugly accent (no accent is ugly, but Draco figured hers was an exception for how she made it sound ugly) and Harry thought Draco liked her. Even if there was the slightest chance he did...

Draco gagged at the thought.

He'd rather die than continue that line of thought.

And— honestly, how could Draco especially not see the romantic intentions behind Harry's enthusiasm to hold his hand under the pretenses of 'comfort' or Harry's glazed eyes of admiration and affection when they sat on top of the Astronomy Tower? Which, by the way, was always one of the most cliché, date spots in Hogwarts.

And Harry hadn't even complained once when Draco had dragged him up there. No, instead, he complained about being cold. Of all things, he was worried about the cold.

Merlin.

Draco desperately wished he had a Time Turner so he could kick the back of his past self's head. Maybe it'd make him a bit smarter.

Draco rested his head against one of the walls.

This was so messed up.

All of this was so messed up.

Draco was the son, nay heir of the very family who had worshipped the killer of Harry's family. The Dark Lord was back. He was living in Draco's house. He was actively trying to kill Harry. Draco had terrorized him and his friends for years (technically, it was only two years since Draco freaked out about the Hanahaki disease in third year, actively avoided his own friends out of shame, and had become their before he could even do anything this year). Not to mention how Draco was an dramatic bastard and Harry was the glowing personification of Merlin himself!

If he and Harry talked and decided to do anything— and that's a major 'if'— there was so much that could go wrong with it.

Would it even be worth it?

Draco sighed.

Even if it wasn't, something else stopped him from being ignorant and fucking off. He— and Blaise would definitely back this up with a grin— was a selfish attention-whore.

For Harry's attention at least.

Even before he arrived at Hogwarts, Draco dreamed of being Harry's best friend. He imagined all the spotlight on him, but the best kind of spotlight would be on him whenever Harry looked at him like he was his everything. Perhaps that was when Draco should've realized he wasn't one-hundred percent heterosexual. Then, after they met, Draco still desperately wanted Harry to look his way. Each prank, taunt, insult was cultivated to attract his attention. Although they almost always ended up with him being physically hurt or watching how Harry stormed away with Hermione and Ron by his side, Draco bathed in the attention. As sick as it may sound, it made Draco feel like he had all of Harry's attention and, really, what bloke wouldn't want that?

Perhaps Draco had always been in love with him, and that's why a supposedly-imaginary disease took matters into its own hands. Perhaps, even with all his wrong-doings, Draco deserved not only Harry's attention, but his love as well.

And upon that thought, Draco couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for Harry.

The bloke was such an idiot— going and falling for the son of his enemy's subordinate. Truthfully, Draco was the one who fell in love with him first, and he wouldn't be stuck in this predicament if it wasn't for his own stupid heart. Which, by the way, Draco still didn't know what to do about it.

Should he surprise Harry by snogging the hell out of him?

Should Draco just straight-up talk to Harry?

No, both of those options sounded too... Gryffindor for the likes of him. But Draco didn't want to accidentally trick Harry into doing something he doesn't want to do either. He wanted Harry to make the first move, to reassure him that his thoughts were actually right. That Harry truly did love him.

Draco mentally cursed.

He hated having his insecurities. If he could simply vanish them away, he would. But he can't.

For the past fifteen years of his life, Draco knew that he was making mistake after mistake after mistake... and he knew he was a huge arse to everyone Harry ever loved. Fuck, he was a huge arse to everyone who ever loved Harry. Yes, he was on his side now and yes, Draco wasn't that big of an arse anymore.

But their history still lingered in Draco's mind. Actually, it always had. But, before Draco had figured it out, he used their history to put himself down and convince himself that he would never be capable of changing or of being lovable. And yet... and yet the total opposite was right in front of him.

Harry loved him. By some miraculous reason, Harry loved him despite their history together.

And, with that thought echoing in his mind once more, something in Draco's chest slowly withered away and died.

Draco gasped as he turned the corner. Resting his head against the cool wall, Draco whimpered and felt the familiar feeling of rising bile— rising flowers. However, at the same time, it felt different. It didn't burn him. It didn't make him choke on blood. No, instead it soothed him, urged him to slightly open his mouth, and lightly made way for the now-dead lilies.

At that moment, Draco couldn't help but think of their spot under that library table. 'Lily Evans,' it had said. It was beautifully poetic. Draco coughing up flowers named after Harry's mother, that is. Or the other way around.

Draco wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

Harry was so stupid for not recognizing these flowers. And he was so stupid for not seeing the reciprocation.

"I love him so fucking much," Draco choked out.

The lilies, which continued to pour out as he spoke, soothed him. When his chest finally felt lighter— lighter than Draco could ever remember— he looked down and snatched up one of the last lilies. It was still alive, and Draco would be damned if he vanished it. He casted a quick stasis charm and stuffed it into the pockets of his robes. Then, looking around to check for any observers, Draco vanished the pile of dead flowers and made his way to Arithmancy.

If he wanted to figure out what to do, there was only one person he could talk to about this: Pansy.

"Pansy, help me. I'm having a midlife crisis," Draco dramatically said as he sagged against her shoulder. Pansy glanced towards him before setting her quill down. He knew he was lucky today was an independent work day. He didn't know what he'd do if Pansy couldn't talk to him at that precise moment.

"Honestly, me too. I have no idea what's even going on in Arithmancy anymore," she huffed. "You'll help me, won't you? In the library?"

"If you finally woman up and snog Theo, yes. Merlin knows the only people who have no idea about the sexual attention between you two are you and him," Draco said.

When Pansy's cheeks flushed and her mouth opened to tell him otherwise, Draco held up his pointer finger.

"You know Theo is a private and sensitive person. He once tried to rally enough people to lynch Daphne for asking to borrow his textbook. You, on the other hand, can kick his door down, steal his shirts, and drink half of his booze, and he'd never do a thing. And you, my dearest friend in a middle of a midlife crisis in Arithmancy, are not as good as being subtle as you may think. It's about time you both got those sticks out of your arses and had a snog or two."

Bloody hell, Draco was the one who needed advice from her and here he was giving her his advice instead.

"Everything alright, Draco?" Pansy asked, her voice worried and condescending.

'No, everything is not alright. I just figured out Harry loved me this whole time, my disease is miraculously gone, and i want to snog Harry within an inch of his life without anyone connected to the Ministry noticing so Father doesn't hear and attempt to use our affections as a bargaining chip with the Dark Lord!'

"My apologies, I just..." he sighed, shaking his head. "I need you to help me figure this out."

Glancing around to make sure nobody was paying much attention to them, Pansy nodded slowly. "Alright. I accept your apology. Let's speak after class. We'll take a walk before lunch and we'll speak then."

"Thanks," Draco muttered.

Pansy continued staring at him in complete, shocked silenced. Draco didn't realize it until much later, but he had rarely thanked anyone. His gratitude was always hidden behind a sarcastic or witty comment. Never once had he voiced it so straight-forwardly. But, Draco figured the situation called for him to do so.

"Arithmancy," Draco stated slowly to snap her out of it. He glanced towards the board and finally noticed how their professor had written 'Free Period: Catch-Up On Assignments'. "What is it that you need me to clarify?"

"Oh. Right."

Within minutes, Pansy seemingly forgot about it. They dived into an interesting conversation about symbols on ruin guards, and then expanded it into an even more thought-provoking one about ancestral symbols that control ruin guards. It stopped all too quickly, though. Professor Vector dismissed them from class early and both of them relocated to the Slytherin Common Room. It'd be empty for the next few minutes or so since all of their elders and youngers were in class right now.  

"Darling, please spill," Pansy demanded as she ran her fingers through his hair soothingly. 

Draco bit his bottom lip. "Alright. I think this will be a bit difficult for you to hear."

She stared at him silently, giving him a bit more time to prepare himself. "This has to do with the Hanahaki disease." 

"...yes."

"Alright—"

"Did you know Harry's in love with me?" Draco blurted out, eyes widening and cheeks heating when he realized what he'd done.

Pansy looked like he just slapped her cheek and grew two heads in a single night. "What?"

"Severus told me Harry was in love with me."

"I'm sorry. Professor Snape did what?" She took two deep breaths before continuing. "Will you please, for the love of my sanity, tell me everything from the beginning? Because you're saying Professor Snape, aka the most 'I'm-dead-inside' person known to all of wizardkind, told you Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived To Sass The Hell Out of People, was in love with you. Not that he isn't, but still. What?"

Draco squared his shoulders. She didn't have to say it like that, but... "After Amorentia didn't work on Harry, Severus pulled us aside and asked me to tutor Harry in Occlumency. I agreed, and just several minutes after sending Harry away, Severus reminded me how Amorentia never works on the user if the user was already in love with the brewer. Harry used it, I brewed it, and he had no particular reaction to it."

"Merlin's beard," was all she said. "So you're telling me Theo knows I like him?"

"For Merlin's sake!" Draco bellowed. He gripped the sides of her cheeks and prayed his screaming would get the message through her thick skull. "Theo's in love with you too, you bloody idiot! Open your eyes and put aside your midlife crisis for five minutes. I need you right now."

The second part of Draco's instructions were clearly something Pansy had a lot of difficulty with. "For the Harry situation?"

"Yes!"

"Alright. So what's the problem with it? How does it connect to the Hanahaki Disease."

"Because I've figured out who I'm in love with!" Draco exploded. Merlin, did that feel good to let out.

Pansy widened her eyes. "Oh dear. I see what the problem is."

"That's wonderful!" Draco sighed in relief. "Marvelous, really. So you'll help me?"

"Draco, I'm not helping your break Harry's heart," Pansy huffed. "Honestly."

He stared at her. "No, you utter twat. I'm in love with Harry and he's in love with me. There will be no breaking of hearts."

Pansy froze where she sat while Draco squirmed under her intense gaze. Then, without looking away, she let out a deep breath. Something akin to excitement flickered in her irises. But Draco reckoned he was just hallucinating it since he was slowly suffocating on his own embarrassment. 

"Harry?"

Draco froze in his place on her lap. For a split moment, he panicked. He thought Harry was standing right behind him— Harry, Ron, and Hermione all had access to the Slytherin Common Room under Theo's insistence that they shouldn't have to worry about passwords if there was an emergency of any kind— but Pansy's eyes were only set on him. And, slowly, Draco nodded.

"Yes."

Pansy's entire body trembled with the intensity of her next deep breath. Her fingers curled to form tiny fists, which did not look intimidating at all. Nope, of course not. Draco was totally alright with seeing his best friend pissed off. He was completely alright.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Draco couldn't help but repeat it, astonished by her reaction.

Pansy shrugged, something off about the way she did it. "You fancy him too. Okay."

'Was it so obvious that even Pansy knew? Pansy, who was so oblivious to Theo's advances picked up on something like Draco's feelings for Harry?' Draco inwardly screamed. Outwardly, he tried not to cry. After all, if he was so obvious, why didn't Harry do anything? Did Harry try to tell him he wasn't interested, and Draco made things worse by practically begging him to hold his hand every minute they're with each other—

It may have been an unconscious decision, but Pansy began carting her fingers through his hair again, forcing him to calm down and think rationally.

...Harry probably didn't notice. He wasn't exactly the epitome of the brightest person.

"Breathe, Draco," Pansy cooed. "I'm simply stating my acceptance, alright? This may sound as though you're heterosexual, but this doesn't change anything between us."

Draco wanted to scream.

'Oh. You think I'm freaking out because I fancy another bloke? Because Father would rather kill me instead of let me court Harry and I'm worried you'll react the same way?'

"I'm not saying I'm not surprised but..." Draco waited for the long-awaited 'you could do better than that' or for the very-much-expected 'I bloody knew it!' Instead, Pansy sighed. "I suppose I should've figured out why you were so butthurt about Harry refusing to be your friend. The schemes you pulled were too put together and too focused for your own good. Yes, your crimes for chocolate are heavy, but your crimes against 'Saint Potter' are definitely a close second."

Draco sputtered indignantly at her over-exaggeration but he was ultimately more upset at the fact that he didn't know how to refute her statement.

"Plus," Pansy added, her voice becoming a bit more higher pitched as she continued. If Draco didn't know better, he would think she was excited or something like that. "Plus, you practically cursed Weasley the seventh during second year, wrote that hideous Valentine's letter we all know you made to 'mock' Harry, threw temper tantrums that gave all of us headaches after losing to Gryffindor in Quidditch, and made all those pins last year to assert your so-called 'dominance' over Harry. When in reality, you probably really wanted to be submissive—"

"Pansy Parkinson!" Draco screeched. He bolted upwards, burying his face in his hands. "Say it louder for the people in the back, why don't you!"

Pansy blushed. "My apologies. I got overexcited there for a moment, Draco."

Draco begrudgingly accepted her apology. "It's alright."

"Let's meet down in your room in about five minutes. I want to hear everything," Pansy said in a no-nonsense tone. She quickly stood up, patting her skirt and robes down. "Afterwards, I may or may not show you my fifteen scrolls of wedding plans that I formulated a week ago."

"What—" Draco squawked, but before he could gather enough brain cells to form a proper sentence, Pansy was already skipping down the stairs that lead to the girls' dormitory.

So he sighed, making his way to his room and opening his window to let some fresh air in.

At least... Pansy took it way better than he expected her too. He pointedly ignored her comment about his and Harry's wedding plans, but he couldn't stop himself from snickering as he imagined Ron clad in an Umbridge pink dress and grumbling about how he hates being the flower girl. 

"Alright!" Pansy flung the door to his room open. Draco nearly fell off his bed due to shock. "Do you want to talk about Harry first or your wedding plans first? Personally, I don't mind which goes first."

"Wait, Pansy, Harry and I aren't—"

Pansy beamed, setting down all of her scrolls on Draco's neat desk and picking on of them up. She tossed him the scroll and stomped over to hand him an inkwell and quill. Draco held them to his chest, too surprised to do anything.

"Perfect! Excellent choice, Draco. I suppose we can start writing your vows first before we talk about flower arrangements, wedding venues, honeymoons, rings, and so on—"

Personally, Draco wanted an elegant ring with a litter of diamonds of the highest purity, but he also wanted a simple one with a nice emerald gem in the middle. The latter would definitely be a lovely engagement ring while the first would be a lovely wedding ring—

No. Draco couldn't delude himself with such fantasies. He had to ask Pansy why the hell she had prepared fifteen scrolls for his wedding (while Draco was unconscious, mind you) a week ago.

"— I know you love Adrian's lovely cakes, so I'm planning on owling him to see if there are any chocolate cake recipes he could snatch from the Montague vaults. About how big would you like the cake by the way? Three layers? Four? How many people are we going to invite? Personally, I think we should have three or four weddings since the list of people I've written will never fit into the banquet hall. One pureblood ceremony, one for the rest of the Weasleys— don't even bother arguing about this one, you know Harry's practically a Weasley by this point— one for just us seven— maybe us twelve since we have to include Vince, Greg, Montague, and Cass— and one for just the two of you. Ugh, and I suppose I'll also need to contact a few bakeries to order several treacle tarts for each of those weddings. Merlin knows Harry won't come in contact with any desert that isn't treacle tart..."

Draco stared at her, quickly realizing that he should just let her be for the time being. There was no use in talking to an over-excited Pansy Parkinson.

"As for the music, we should probably hire a pianist instead of asking one of the grooms to play. We should also hire a tutor to perfect Harry's waltzing skills. Merlin, Draco, you saw how horribly he danced last year and we definitely don't want your toes all dead by the next day. Well, if they still die, I suppose he'll seriously need to make it up to you through some mind-blowing sex," Pansy teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Merlin, Pansy," Draco hissed, his cheeks burning. He was already screwed by life; he didn't want to think about being screwed by Harry. He was barely sixteen for Merlin's sake! "Look. I appreciate all... all this. But this is way too soon."

Pansy blinked slowly as though he started speaking French to her. As though he was stupid enough to talk to her in a language she doesn't understand.

"Why?"

Draco was this close into having a mental breakdown.

"Why?" he damn near-yelled. "For one, we're not dating."

"What? Why?" Pansy asked. "You like him, he likes you. There's no reason as to why you aren't."

"'No reason'— Pansy, you and Theo like each other but you two clearly aren't dating."

She shrugged, obviously ignoring his comment. "What color robes would you like for the pureblood ceremony? I know it's customary for Malfoys to wear black, but I also know you'd look lovely in silver robes. And Harry, without a doubt, shall wear green robes to match his eyes—"

"Pansy!" Draco snapped. She dutifully shut her mouth, the excited gleam in her eyes not quite leaving. "First of all, his eyes aren't green. They're a mixture of emerald and parakeet. And second, I'll be using black traditional robes."

Pansy frowned, tutting. "Green— fine, emerald or whatever— clashes with black. At this point, which is more important, Draco? Fashion or tradition?"

Draco pursed his lips.

"That's what I thought," Pansy said, grinning triumphantly. She snatched another scroll. "The Weasley guest list is pretty straightforward, I suppose. Just send one invite addressing 'Weasley the first to Weasley the last'. Well, since you'll be marrying into the family, I suppose you should start by referring to them by their first names... which you will need to figure out from Ron of course. I can't be doing all the work."

"You don't know their names do you?" Draco snickered.

"Shut up. Now, as for the wedding venues—"

"Wait," Draco interrupted for the third or fourth time in six minutes. "Pansy, stop this madness. I appreciate that you've put a... an exceptional amount of thought and work into Harry's and my hypothetical wedding—"

Pansy let out a not-so-feminine snort. "Believe me, it's not going to be hypothetical for long."

"...I'm going to pretend I did not hear you in favor of my sanity," Draco grumbled. "And as I was saying, I appreciate it but, once again, Harry and I aren't engaged or dating."

Her eye twitched. "So this is where I come in."

"Yes. I need your help figuring out what I'm going to do next."

"Why, shag the living lights out of him of course!"

"Again, Pans, I'm sixteen!"

She waved his worries off. "Time is a wizard-made concept. Don't be ridiculous, darling."

Draco huffed. "This is why Theo doesn't tell you any of the laws that have age requirements. Merlin knows you'll break them and say 'time is a wizardmade concept' towards every member of the Wizengamot when you stand on the podium. "

Pansy grinned, and that was really the only answer he was expecting of her. "Alright. Our plan cannot have any shagging in it."

"Correct."

"Shame. I know a few witches who would pay thousands of galleons to see a pensieve."

"Pansy Parkinson, I swear to Salazar Slytherin—"

She quickly waved his concern off. "In that case, I suppose you'll need to confess to Harry."

Draco stared at her in mortification. 'Is this a bloody joke to you?'

"Are we talking Harry Potter by any chance? Saint Potter? Dark hair, emerald eyes, stupidly round specs?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, obviously not understanding Draco's reasonable reason for stress. Of course, if she was in Draco's position, she would be thinking the same way he was.

"Draco, don't be such a prat. Of course we're talking about the same person."

"Wonderful, because I think the worst thing that could happen is that he might hear me."

"No, it's not," Pansy huffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Draco. If he hears you, it'll be a good thing. Trust me."

Draco didn't even hesitate before disagreeing. "No."

"Whatever. So what's your plan?" Pansy checked her nails, sitting down at the edge of the bed and staring at him expectantly. 

Draco stupidly stared at her. "Plan?"

"Yes. Apparently I'm not allowed to talk about your wedding until you start dating Harry. And apparently, I'm not allowed to be in charge of planning this since you refuse to shag and confess."

"...you mean 'confess and shag', right?"

"Wordplay isn't all too important, Draco. So... what's our plan?"

"Our?"

Pansy let out a dry laugh, a playful smirk in place. "You seriously didn't think I'm going to let you do this by yourself, right? Of course not. I'm going to be there when you both confess your undying love for each other— no worries, I'll make sure to place the memory inside of a pensieve."

Draco didn't like the way she said 'your undying love', but he decided to let it pass. He still needed to tell her about how the disease practically deleted (see: yeeted) itself from his throat. Besides, Harry didn't have the Hanahaki disease. Although he did love Draco in return, his affection wouldn't be as intense as Draco's. He doubted Harry would confess his 'undying' love for Draco.

"No, Draco, don't have that look on your face." Pansy sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

She opened her arms and gave Draco a look that told him he needed to hug her. So he did, though it felt a bit awkward. Maybe it was because Draco didn't like her sitting on his bed with her school robes still dirty after sitting in the Slytherin Common Room. He mentally reminded himself to wash the sheets after she left.

"Draco..."

"Yes?"

"Please stop thinking you aren't a good person," she unexpectedly said. Draco blinked. He knew he wasn't thinking about that at all. "You've always been like this, and I honestly don't understand. Yes, you've made stupid decisions and yes, you've been a git to more than half the Hogwarts castle, but you've always been true to yourself. If anyone was in trouble, you'd help them without once thinking for yourself, and your insistence to return to your no-longer-home home and put your own life at risk is proof of that. Harry sees this side of you, and even if he doesn't, it doesn't change who you are."

"I wasn't—"

She hushed him by resting her forehead against his. "Listen to me, Draco. As your best friend, I am the only person allowed to diss you. You are explicitly forbidden from doing so. This will sound as though I am on fifteen glasses of champagne, but you truly are a good man, Draco, even though things may not point in that direction right now. Darling, regardless of what you think, you're capable of being loved. And you already are. By Narcissa— well, she sort of has to so she doesn't really count— me, Blaise, Theo, Ron, Hermione, Harry..."

He wasn't thinking about any of those positivity-needing thoughts in particular— not as much as he used to at least— but he appreciated her strong belief in him nonetheless.

"Don't even try to disagree with me, Draco. I know what you've been thinking and I want you to stop it. You are not Lucius Malfoy, and you have nothing to live up to. You are Draco, and you are more than enough."

Draco smiled. "Thanks, Pansy."

"And I know my word doesn't get rid of your stupid 'I'm worthless' thoughts, but I hope hearing our thoughts of you will let you just do you."

"Yes."

Because there was really nothing else Draco could say to that.

"Now that we've boosted your self confidence, what's the plan? How are we going to manipulate Harry into asking you out since you clearly aren't Gryffindor enough to openly court him?"

"I'm not manipulating him!" Draco squeaked, feeling his face go all hot. Merlin, when she says 'court' like that...

Pansy snorted, accioing a piece of parchment paper, a quill, and some inkwell. The determined look on her face made her appear to be a witch on a mission. "Fine. He'll ask you out anyways. All you need to do is be more confident."

"Thanks, but no thanks. That is the most shittiest plan I've ever heard."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Darling, at least give it a chance. I did have a suspicion that you'd be interested in him, but I didn't truly know until you told me. I assume Harry feels the same way right now. Therefore, you need to hint towards the fact that you're interested enough times for him to consider asking you out. Then, without a doubt, his inner Gryffindor will lead the way to your wedding!"

"Again with the wedding," he huffed. "That would be a good plan had I not accidentally rejected him already."

"I'm afraid my ears may deceived me. You did what?" Pansy shrieked.

He winced. "It was on Valentine's." Pansy groaned at this. "I didn't think he'd meant it that way. He asked me to Hogsmeade, but I had to tune the piano."

"I can't believe you, Draco Lucinda Malfoy! Tuning a piano was more important than a bloody date with the bloke you like!"

Draco nervously laughed, hoping the murderous glare in her eyes was just a hallucination.

Pansy groaned again. "Whatever. You know what? Just drop a hint or two every once in a while anyways and watch how he falls to his knees for you. If... you know what I mean."

"Pansy!" Draco hissed, burying his face into his hands. "Merlin, why are you like this?"

"What an interesting question. I'd love to have an answer for it," Pansy said sweetly, her eyes twinkling as she slowly unraveled another one of her scrolls.

Draco groaned and prayed the minutes ticked along a bit faster so he'd see Harry. Who— Draco still couldn't stop himself from marveling at this— was in love with him.

Chapter Text

"Merlin, finally!" Ron moaned when Draco and Pansy finally appeared in the Great Hall. "Harry was starting to worry about Draco. You would not believe how much he can talk when it comes to Draco. 'What do you reckon happened to him?' 'Should I use the map to find him?' 'Hermione, you think he's okay right?' Bloody hell, I thought I'd never hear the end of it—"

Harry quickly covered his mouth, attempting to be nonchalant. He smiled at Draco and waved endearingly. Granted, it was a bit awkward, but it was just so Harry Draco couldn't help but turn into a pool of mush.

"So, er, what were you two doing?"

"We had a talk back at the Commons. Pansy had a few lingering questions about Arithmancy so we talked a bit about it," Draco sighed.

He took his seat beside him at the Gryffindor table, hoping Harry didn't immediately call him out for lying. He didn't want to end up explaining how Pansy was planning their future wedding. Or how they even got to that subject.

"You went to the Slytherin Common Room after Arithmancy? I didn't think you'd have had the time," Harry commented, snapping Draco out of his thoughts. He silently asked Draco to pass over a slice of treacle tart.

Doing as Harry asked, Draco shrugged. "We'd gotten out of class early. I wanted to get a change of shirt, and Pansy followed me to ask me a few of her questions. We ended up getting into this deep discussion and losing track of time."

"What about?"

At first, Draco was appalled Harry cared about such a thing, but then he remembered how Harry was in love with him and he couldn't stop himself from brightly smiling. Harry's smile back was enough of a reassurance for him to begin animatedly discussing what he and Pansy were talking about during class.

"Well, we spoke about elemental runes. Magic is basically the concept of using the four basic elements," Draco began. When Harry nodded along, he continued. "Each and every magical creature has a bit of control of these elements. However, only high-intelligent magical beings like wizards, werewolves, and veelas can control the any one of these elements."

"So people who can use wands...?"

"Yes. Wands help channel our magic and turn them into elemental-based magic."

Harry nodded again. "You said there were four basic ones. Does it mean there are more?" he asked brilliantly.

Draco honestly didn't expect him to ask about it. "Yes and no. We all have five senses: sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. The four elements I spoke about are mainly concepts you can feel. The other five— we generally refer to these as 'affinities'— are concepts you can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. Affinities can also be a very brief description of a wizard's or witch's core magical abilities."

"I wonder why Hermione never told me any of this," Harry mumbled.

"Because Hermione isn't that big of a nerd," Ron snickered.

Draco pointedly threw a green pea at him. "Most of the time, Hermione is in control of your shared braincell. If she tells you any of it, it'd be like she was letting you take her portion of the brain cell."

Hermione laughed. "I'm not sure whether I should laugh or cry."

"The second hurts a bit more," Pansy smoothly said, "but pain is only temporary. Feel free to cry."

That only made Hermione laugh harder. Draco grinned at the sight before turning back to Harry.

"Anyways, if we include the basic elements, there are nine affinities in total: earth, air, water, fire, electricity, energy, light, dark, and ice. The affinity the wizard has always depends on the magic within the wizard without any affinity-specific casting."

"So... wait, what?" Harry's nose scrunched up adorably. "How are you supposed to cast your own magic without any spells or anything like that?"

Draco stared at him. For a moment, he truly wanted to refer to him as the only member of the Idiot Plus Hermione trio who had never once had the shared braincell before. But then Draco realized how Ron already knew most of the Wizarding knowledge due to his blood purity, Hermione had been desperate to learn about the world she never could never understand otherwise, and Harry hadn't exactly gotten around to do so. Poor bloke probably wouldn't even know what he was supposed to look for if he had. Of course Harry wouldn't know the magical basics.

"Harry, give me your hand." Harry complied, an even more confused expression taking place. Without another word, Draco made his palm face the ceiling. "This lets you think a bit more clearly. Now close your eyes and try to reach towards your magic core. Don't cast any spells though. Simply focus on it."

Draco patiently waited as Harry tried to find his magic's core. When Draco first tried to find his, it took him half an hour. Of course, his father was livid. He said Malfoys were better than that. He'd done a real good caning after that too, which his mother was quick to heal. She was much more sympathetic and told him what a wonderful job he'd done. Due to this, she's the only person alive who knows what his affinity was.

"Oh," Harry breathed.

Draco's eyes snapped into focus. That was fast— faster than Draco anyways.

"You found it?"

"Think so," he replied easily. "I didn't know..."

"Magic could be like that?" Draco filled in. He remembered the first time he felt the actual tug in his chest. It'd felt so good to know something else— something so beautifully good— could exist inside him. His mother had let him cry onto her silk dress, calmly running her fingers through his hair and telling him how magic was a gift he should never waste. It was the one and only time she let him cry so ugily.

Harry's eyes snapped open. "Yeah."

From this distance, Draco could see the remnants of teal and gold in it. It was unfair how Harry's eyes can seem even prettier from a close distance. Draco refocused by clearing his throat and leaning away the slightest bit. He filled a glass with water, purified it, and conjured a leaf to place in the cup. Their friends looked over with interest now.

"You're going to test his affinity? Right here? In the Great Hall?" Pansy asked.

Draco mentally cursed.

He was so excited to teach Harry about runes that he'd totally forgotten about where they were. Exposing one's affinities in public was never something you wanted to do unless you didn't have a few people trying to kill you. Harry, however, has one Dark Lord after his head. To expose Harry's affinity would be to expose his weakness. He should've been more mindful.

Besides, if the press caught wind of it, their discussion would going to be the talk of the century. Draco could just see the Prophet's headlines now: 'Harry Potter: A Bottomless Pit Of Tragedy? Malfoy Heir Has To Teach Him Pre-Spell Skills!' Merlin, if that actually happened, Draco wouldn't know if he should laugh or cry.

"You're right. Probably later then," Draco sighed. He vanished the cup and poked at his lunch in a bored manner. But then he realized Harry's and his conversation wasn't precisely done. They'd just skivvied off the real conversation. "Anyways, each affinity allows you to have control over a specific domain of magic. This is why there are so many departments and sub-departments in the Ministry of Magic."

"It's also why there are so many chairs in Wizengamot. There are masters from each affinity and champions of the runes," Hermione added.

Draco smiled. "Precisely."

"Wait, wait. 'Masters' I get. It means they're the best at it right? But what are 'champions of runes'?" Harry asked. "You can't duel runes."

It was so absurd, Draco couldn't help but laugh. He quickly laced their fingers together, hoping it'd tell Harry that he wasn't laughing at him. He was laughing at the absurdity of his words.

"Merlin, if we could, can you imagine how many Gryffindors would be lining up to do a thing or two?" Blaise snickered. "They're such a pain in the arse."

"Blaise, you simply aren't brilliant enough to figure out the riddles," Pansy wheezed. "But, Gryffindors would try and pick a fight with it. No offense, but some of them choose to pick a fight with anything and everything."

"No offense taken," Harry reassured. Ron, Hermione, and the other half dozen Gryffindors who were eavesdropping on their conversation nodded along. "Ron and I did duel a troll in first year."

Draco was pretty sure his eyeballs flew out of his sockets. The only thing that stopped him from believing it completely was the realization that there was no eyeball on his lap. Which, by the way, Draco definitely would've freaked out about.

"And I did set Snape on fire in second year," Hermione piped up.

Draco coughed. 'I'm sorry, you did what to Severus?'

"And I thought I accidentally killed Harry last year when I gave him some gillyweed," Longbottom added. "I think that counts."

Draco glared at Harry.

Longbottom giving Harry gillyweed was a clear violation of the Triwizard Tournament's rules. He was going to have a nice chat with him about that for sure.

"And not to mention the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets," Ron groaned. "That was some nasty stuff."

"Wait wait wait," Theo choked. "There was a basilisk in there?"

"Yeah. And it was bloody massive. I couldn't believe it'd somehow fit in the pipes."

As if he'd somehow reminded Pansy of a life goal or something, she reached over and slapped Draco's shoulder. Draco recoiled from the slap and wondered what crime he'd done to receive such cruelty. It must've been murdering kittens or kicking puppies. But he was sure he'd done neither of those things.

"See? What did I tell you? You should've picked up pungi instead of violin! We could have—" she gasped. While Draco was pleased to hear he hadn't actually committed a horrible crime, he couldn't help but feel a bit faint when he saw the glint in her eye. An elaborate scheme was definitely being plotted in her mind. "We could have had it as a pet this whole time! Merlin's saggy tits, Ron, is it still alive? Please tell me it's alive."

Harry chuckled nervously. "No, it's dead. We had to kill it. I mean, it was trying to kill us. Of course we had to kill it."

Pansy sighed, the excited gleam leaving. "Harry, I've never loathed anyone more than I loathe you at the moment."

"She's just a bit pissed. Give her a diamond or two and she'll completely forgive you," Draco whispered under his breath.

She snapped her head towards him. "Watch your tongue, Draco. Or no one in the history of torture is going to be tortured with the torture you'll be tortured with.*"

"Definitely two," Draco corrected.

Harry laughed as Pansy huffed and pointedly turned away from them. Theo not-so-discreetly rolled his eyes fondly and leaned downwards to whisper words of comfort to her. It was such a cute display, Draco wished she just took the words he'd said and taken them as permission to snog the living lights out of Theo. They'd honestly be so disgustingly adorable with each other— just like how Blaise and Cassius turned out to be.

"Alright, so what were you going to go on and say? About the... 'champions of runes' if I remember correctly?" Harry asked.

"May I?" Theo asked. He pointedly glanced towards a bowl of fruit, reminding Draco he had to eat something as well. He mentally cursed and gestured for him to go on ahead. He snatched a green apple with his empty hand. "Wonderful. So what do you know about runes, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Not much. I know they're basically this symbol and this number. They helps us do magic. Oh, and apparently all of our professors use them."

Draco silently wondered if Hermione had told him about each of those things as he bit into his apple. After all, the first two things Harry had just mentioned were the first uses Professor Sinistra taught them.

Theo nodded. "Well, runes aren't just symbols and numbers and they don't really help, per say. They can be used as seals, signs of permission, magic amplifiers, and so on. Champions of runes are wizards and witches who collectively research and develop complex runes. They're the most important group of people in our modern day society since runes are such a fundamental part in our every day lives."

Harry tried to follow along, but it looked like confusion claimed victory. "Wait what?"

"Runes are like IDs," Hermione chimed in. Harry clicked his tongue with understanding.

What are those?" Draco asked. It sounded like something his dead great-aunt, Walburga Black, would say.

"Non-moving portraits of yourself that you carry around. It tells people who you are," she explained.

Now that sounded absolutely ridiculous. "Why in Merlin's name would you have a non-moving portrait?"

"It's just a Muggle thing."

"Muggles are weird," Theo huffed. "Why would they have these 'EDs' or whatever it is that you said when they could have a moving portrait of themselves? Ridiculous."

"Well, muggles don't have magic, right? Maybe they don't have the option," Pansy wisely said. "If they did, they'd obviously choose the more impressive style of portraits."

"Don't be an idiot, Pans," Blaise snorted. "How would they have the choice if they can't even use magic?"

"Illusions?" Draco wondered. "I remember a few muggleborns talking about how their friends used to do magic tricks without magic. Is it possible to do that on portraits?"

"No," Hermione sighed. "One of these days, I'm going to drag all of you to the library and teach you all about muggles."

"Good plan," Theo said. "While you're at it, clarify what 'math' is. I heard a few muggleborns cheer about how they wouldn't have to do it anymore."

Upon hearing this, Hermione exploded. "Honestly, how can you not know what math is?"

"It's a secret society, I suppose."

"No, it's not!"

"A public society?"

"No!"

"A weird society?"

"It's not a society," Hermione snapped.

Draco glanced towards his friends, hoping he'd find a hint as to what to say next but met blank stares, and laughed. "That was a bit too easy, Hermione. Of course we know what math is. I had to take several classes myself before Arithmancy."

Hermione folded her arms, now grumpy.

"You know, it'd be kind of weird if we had to carry self-portraits around," Ron noted. "I mean, just the size of those things."

"Runes are definitely much better," Blaise agreed.

"Does everyone know about runes but me?" Harry asked, his cheeks a light pink.

"It's alright," Draco reassured. Harry's smile was adorably soft. "You're learning about it now, so that's more than enough."

"Yeah."

Then he shooed Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Hermione, and Ron away. His movements were ignored, however, so Draco decidedly changed the subject.

"We'll figure out your affinities and how to get your own runes later. I wanted to ask you how your lesson with your new Divination professor went. Professor...?"

He honestly didn’t know the name of the new Divination teacher. Pansy had filled him in on what he missed while he was asleep, but she skipped over the new Divination professor's name. As a result, Draco had no idea who the new professor was.

"Firenze?"

"Yes. How was your first lesson with Professor Firenze?"

"Oh, it was boring," Harry replied without hesitation.

"Yeah, Harry didn't pay attention the entire time," Ron snickered.

At this, Draco laughed. Not paying attention was definitely something Harry enjoyed doing. He witnessed it enough times in Potions to know.

With his cheeks flushing into a delicate, beautiful rose color, Harry not-so-discreetly kicked his best friend's leg under the table. "No, I didn't."

"He did. He even snored. I swear."

Draco snickered.

When he caught sight of Harry's betrayed expression, Draco reassuringly squeezed Harry's hand under the table. Then he advised Harry to start getting a bit more rest at night. He suspected his lack of focus had to deal with the Dark Lord's influence causing his nightmares. How he and the Dark Lord had a connected, Draco both wondered and feared.

"And if you still can't sleep, I know one or two people in Slytherin will be awake to play a few games with you. If not, you can always go on and wake me up. I won't mind."

Harry gently squeezed back. "Going to teach me a bit more about Astronomy I see."

Draco's cheeks flushed.

Usually, Draco would be wallowing in self-pity whenever he felt like his chest was about to burst because of the ever-growing flowers in his lungs. Well, he wouldn't be wallowing in self-pity per say, but there certainly were times where Draco sat himself down and simply stared at nothing whilst his thoughts slowly betrayed him. However, after Pansy's entire paragraph about how he was loved and forever deserved to be loved (and witnessing for himself how Harry's love cured him) Draco couldn't help but feel a bit positive. The flowers, this time, was by his own violation.

And Draco loved feeling it and feeling no pain. Not to mention how the reminder of their should-be-considered-a-date night on the Astronomy Tower only made Draco feel more bashful.

"Alright. Break it up, lovebirds," Pansy teased. "Try not to flirt in front of my chicken so much."

Cheeks heating up, Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Please, Pans. If I can read those corrupt books, you can eat your chicken." He asked Blaise to pass the mashed potatoes, smirking when he didn't look away from Cassius as he did so. "Besides, the only lovebirds I know are Blaise and Cassius."

"I literally did nothing to deserve this," Blaise huffed.

He threw a cookie Draco's way, but Draco managed to hide behind Harry and dodge it. He smiled and stuck his tongue out childishly. "You've tormented me with wails of your crush on Cassius for years. I believe I have a right to tease you once or twice for it. Right, Harry?"

"Huh? Yeah," he replied. Harry's grin was worth getting ambushed by another hoard of cookies.

Draco's smile widened as he tried to huff and shoulder the crumbs off his robes. "See? Harry agrees with me."

"Doesn't mean you're right," Blaise grumbled. But he went back to his conversation with Cassius seamlessly so Draco assumed he could consider it a win.

"Harry will always agree with you," Ron exaggerated. "One bat of those 'pretty, pale eyes' and he'll go along with anything you say. No questions asked."

Draco shrugged, not really thinking of it. He ignored how Hermione tried to threaten him by wiggling her eyebrows. "I suppose it means I'm always right then."

"That's not how these sorts of things work, Malfoy." Draco froze where he sat at the Gryffindor table. His apple was centimeters away from his lips when Montague interrupted him, but then again, that was most likely intentional. "Being right or wrong has nothing to do with the agreement of others."

Draco whirled around, his mood brightening when his eyes landed on the slice of chocolate cake his friend had brought for him. However, instead of immediately holding out his hand like he wanted to, Draco playfully rolled his eyes.

"How would you know, Montague? You've never been right before."

"Ha ha, very funny."

Montague sat down beside Draco, sliding him the slice. He didn't pile any food into the plate in front of him, which meant it was safe for Draco to assume he wasn't going to stay for the entirety of lunch.

"Chocolate cake so early in the morning?" Draco drawled.

Montague merely smirked, obviously not wanting to ruin the game they were playing. "Why, I thought I'd give you a proper 'welcome back'."

"Well, I've been back for several hours."

"Good for you."

"Adrian, you’re talking like you totally weren't worried about him," Blaise snickered. He sent a pointed look towards Draco. "Shed a few tears and begged me to let him know when you wake up. Draco, he rushed off to the kitchens when I told him. He completely missed our first two classes."

"Shut up, Blaise. You’re talking like I don't have a heart."

"You're always saying how dead you are on inside. Therefore, I think it's safe to assume you don't," Theo deadpanned.

Montague threw his head back and laughed. "Hello to you too, Theo. Once a bastard, always a bastard I suppose." Then he winked at Draco. "Make sure Blaise doesn't get his hands on that again."

"Never," Draco solemnly swore.

He picked the plate up with his free hand, turning towards Harry and smiling brightly. Harry smiled back, but there was something odd in his eye. Draco assumed he wanted to ask him to share the cake, but knew Draco would say no if he asked. However, when he took another second, he realized Harry was just jealous. Draco tried to figure out a way so he wouldn't be.

"Adrian, why don't you just back off on the cake production?" Blaise snickered. "Draco doesn't need anymore encouragement for chocolate."

"Blaise has always been one for jesting," he hissed. "Don't listen to him, Montague."

"You know I won't listen to him when you're talking," Montague assured. Then he glanced over Draco's shoulder. "Your Gryffindor bodyguard is at it again."

Draco turned towards Harry, his smile faltering as he remembered how he'd truly mistaken who it was that Harry loved on Valentine's Day. It truly had hurt him, and it encouraged his tendency to self-loathe. For some reason, Draco knew that if he hadn't been so caught up in feeling sorry for himself, he would've figured it out. Regardless, it had taken him a bit too much time to realize the truth.

"Right. I believe I've forgotten to formally introduce you two. Harry, this is Adrian Montague. He's six feet of nothing other than 'git', but he bakes alright cakes. He's the sort of person to make depressive jokes and scream internally when the slightest thing doesn't go to plan. And Montague, this is Harry Potter. Now that you 've been introduced, stop referring to him as my bodyguard."

He hoped the number of degratatory insults would sooth Harry's worries.

"I like how you've got nothing to add to his introduction and yet you name me a git with a sense for cake. How prudish."

"There truly is no other way to describe you though," Theo replied with a huff of laughter.

Draco smirked. "You're complaining simply because you want to look better in Harry's eyes. You've been complaining about him for a week or two already."

Harry's grip around his hand tightened. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Remember how I wrongly assumed you liked him?" Harry shifted uncomfortably at that. "Well, Montague here had been the first to point it out to me. He'd been especially sensitive about you, Harry, and I found it hilarious."

"Wait. You thought he liked me?" Montague snickered.

"Merlin, Draco. Why?" Ron groaned.

Draco shrugged. "I was tired and it was the first explanation that came to mind. It made sense at the time since Harry was practically glaring at us."

"Well, I don't like him," Harry all but snapped.

"Draco," Montague whined. "Tell your bodyguard to stand down."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Adrian, you always brought out the worst in everyone."

"That's what you always say."

"Wait a second," Hermione interrupted. "What happened to 'Montague' and 'Malfoy'? I thought...?"

Montague cursed. "Bloody hell. Did we accidentally drop it?"

"You did it first."

"Damn. It must've been Potter's fault," Montague teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Once upon a time, Draco would agree with Montague's thoughts. He'd go off on a rant about everything wrong with the world was because of Harry, and then he'd somehow get his complaints turned into the password for the Slytherin Common Room. It had happened once, and Merlin that had been so embarrassing.

"Shut up, Adrian," Draco laughed. Then, he turned towards Hermione. "I suppose this calls for an explanation. A few years ago, he'd impulsively proposed to me."

"He what?" Harry demanded.

The murderous glare in his eye reminded Draco that Harry was in love with him and had a tendency to get jealous. For absolutely no reason at all, Draco wanted to say, but he knew he had his own jealous fits in second year, fourth year, and — Merlin, he even had one this morning. Draco needed to talk to Harry about his conversation with Chang by the way.

Everything had its time and place though, and talking to Harry about it wouldn't be an appropriate discussion in the Great Hall during lunch.

And so, Draco soothingly rubbed the back of Harry's hand with his thumb. It did little to get rid of the faint crackling in the air. "He asked me to be his taster whenever he tweaked his recipes and I ended up accepting this proposal."

"Millicent and Daphne thought it was a joining-of-two-pureblood-houses and threw a party that was actually quite brilliant for second years. The only way we could convince them we weren't involved that way was by referring to each other by our last names," Montague explained. "It's a little joke between us now."

"I remember you were actually in love with him at some point though," Pansy muttered.

"Which made it more amusing than it should've been," Draco replied. He snickered, remembering how Montague hadn't even cared. He'd shrugged and went away, only to return to his table two hours later with a delicious cake. If heartbreak led to delicious cakes, then Draco was pleased he'd helped in some way. Harry, though, wasn't and Draco rushed to reassure him. "There luckily weren't any hard feelings. He accepted my rejection and went on to create the best chocolate cakes in existence— is this dark chocolate molten by the way? I sense a bit of melted fudge."

"Got it in one," Montague cursed. Draco beamed. "You always have a sense for things like that."

"So let me get this right since I'm confused," Ron said. He took a sip of water. "Montague, here, used to like you and you're still friends with him? Why?"

"I honestly have no idea," Montague sighed. Shrugging, he conjured a fork for Draco to use. "There's nothing to exceptionally admire about Draco. He's a chocolate-addicted, childish piece of shit. But I unfortunately still do harbor a few feelings for him."

The sudden dark shift in the air didn't go unnoticed. Harry held Draco’s hand even tighter, something akin to a low growl sounding thunderous in their near-silent circle.

"I see," Harry grit out.

"Well, enjoy your cake, Malfoy," Montague said with a wink. He pushed himself up, jerking his head towards the other tables. "When you feel like you can beat me at Strip Poker, you know where to find me."

"In the library, you nerd," Draco laughed. Montague left the Gryffindor Table and plopped himself down in the Ravenclaw table, no doubt going to cause trouble with his brother. "That's Montague for you. I can't recall a time where he didn't deliberately cause trouble."

"Deliberately?" Hermione repeated slowly.

Draco smirked. "You all realize he was joking right? He and I are simply business associates—"

"As you should be," Harry growled.

Draco soothingly rubbed the back of his palm again. "This means he uses me as his exclusive taste-tester. His association with me carries him through the door for almost all bakeries in the wizarding world, which I must say he doesn't even need. In return, I get nothing but his undying loyalty— and chocolate. I definitely get that from Montague too."

"And don't forget the constant offers of Strip Poker," Pansy added. "I think he knows he'll never get you in bed, but wants to see you naked anyways."

"He just wants to be able to say he's seen every Slytherin naked," Blaise snickered. "Classic Adrian."

"Why wouldn't he get you in bed?" Ron asked, gagging a little at the wording. "Bloody hell, I never thought I'd say that."

Draco laughed. "Why would he?"

"He sure is trying though," Harry huffed.

"He's failing," Draco said. He smiled at Harry, hoping his words were enough to reassure him. "And he'll always fail, Harry. No need to worry about me."

Harry's smile was lopsided and gave away his obvious attempt at trying to hide his jealousy, but Draco appreciated the effort. "It's my job to worry about you. He referred to me as your bodyguard, didn't he?"

When Draco caught Pansy's eye over his shoulder, he just knew Pansy wanted to comment on how Draco would much rather fuck his bodyguard if it was actually the case. However, Draco shot her a nasty look. "I suppose."

"Besides, who else is going to worry if it isn't me?" Harry asked, his voice soft with concern and affection. Draco resisted the urge to snog him senseless right then and there. He had to let Harry come to him; he needed to respect Harry's boundaries. "Blaise got Cassius, Pansy got Theo, Ron got Hermione, and vice versa for all of them."

Draco's heart fell out of his chest.

Self-depreciating thoughts rushed back into his mind, unhelpfully implanting whispers about how perhaps he'd been wrong and had been assuming everything. Perhaps Harry wasn't actually in love with him, that he was so neck-deep in pity he'd mistaken it for love. Perhaps Harry was just stuck with him and... and Draco was so happy by the faint possibility that it was true, he'd simply killed off his disease on his own.

Or perhaps he hadn't, and the Hanahaki disease was coming back with full force.

"So by process of elimination..." he began lowly.

He hated how vulnerable he sounded. Things never turned out well when he was vulnerable; it led to him lashing out at everyone, hiding himself in his room, and bawling his eyes out like a two-year-old. Even as a sixteen-year-old, Draco figured it would be best if he simply drove everyone away instead of letting them in his walls. Luckily, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo were all used to his dramatics, but it didn't mean Harry, Ron, and Hermione were. Draco feared they'd go back to how they were for the last four years of their lives: hating each other.

However, before he could dive head-first into the pool of self-pity, Harry openly panicked and calmed him down.

"No, I would've worried about you even if someone else already did. I always have."

Theo whistled. "You always have, huh?"

"Stop it," Harry shushed. He redirected all of his attention to Draco, making him feel as though he was the center of the universe. "And I'm pretty sure you heard what Ron said earlier."

"About?" Draco asked.

"About how I thought something happened to you and bored him out of his mind two minutes into lunch."

Upon hearing this reminder, Draco threw his head back and laughed. "Yes. Yes I did. I also heard Ron saying you were bored out of your mind in Divination."

"Firenze is a good teacher but..."

"I suppose he doesn't threaten your life enough," he said, nodding his head slowly. "Though, Professor Trelawney's predictions of your death never comes true. Perhaps Professor Firenze has decided you can't avoid it if he doesn't tell you."

"What?" Harry sputtered. "I— who told you about Trelawney's ?"

"Come on, Harry," Draco giggled. "Her predictions were infamous. Everyone has heard the general gist of them."

Theo smirked. "Don't look so glum, Harry. You aren't the only one she's sent death sentences to. She made one of Adrian's sisters cry in her second year by saying she was going to die in a 'cold, dark cellar' over a 'pool of blood'. Not to mention how she predicted Vincent was going to be killed by 'greedy and angered flames so great it destroys one of Hogwarts' greatest treasures'. Honestly, all of her predictions was ridiculous."

"You say it was ridiculous, and yet you camped outside Vincent's door for an entire week after hearing it," Blaise reminded.

"Wait, how are you not concerned about her predictions?" Hermione asked, her eyes darting towards Harry nervously. Draco narrowed his eyes. 'What was that about?' "Some of them actually happened, Blaise."

"Divination is the subject that uses crystal balls and astrology to predict the future. It's a tricky subject, and it's easy to read things incorrectly," Draco calmly reminded. "Which is why Pansy and I used Arithmancy to double-check her prediction. They were often debunked."

Hermione's eyes widened with understanding. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"It's an easy mistake mud— muggleborns make. You haven't grown up around magic, Hermione. Don't put yourself down for it," Theo advised.

His stumbling over 'muggleborns' didn't go unnoticed. Each of their expressions darkened, but Hermione seemed to ignore it the quickest. "Thank you, Theo."

Draco bit his lip, weighing his options before deciding to speak up. "Hermione, it wasn't intentional. We've grown up saying those words, and it's only recently we've realized how wrong the term is."

Hermione smiled. "I know."

"Of course you do," Ron grumbled fondly. Then he snickered. "Be careful, Theo. If you almost say it again, Hermione's going to slap you so hard you cry."

"Are all of you ready? You are? Perfect. Let's all say 'thank you' to Ronald Weasley for that very much unwanted reminder," Draco drawled.

"Let's say 'thank you' for the very much wanted reminder," Blaise corrected. Draco snapped his head towards him, hoping he pulled off the very 'Lucius Malfoy' expression he was going for. "What? Draco, it was hilarious." He winked at Hermione. "Your powerful slap was the password of the Slytherin Common Rooms for three consecutive weeks. Wonderful job by the way."

"I remember it like it was yesterday," Pansy cooed. Then, before Draco could stop her, she said it out loud: "'Granger's hate crime against dramatic blondes.'"

Hermione hysterically laughed, her giggles lifting the whole mood of the table. Even Harry, who Draco thought was going to be sympathetic towards him, snickered. "God, I can't— your password— for three weeks. Why didn't anyone change it?"

"The Ghostly Baron is practically a dictator. Of course he didn't let anyone change it," Draco grumbled. Harry bumped their shoulders together and brightly smiled. It did little to cheer him up.

"He's not wrong though. You are dramatic," Harry noted.

"Shut up," Draco hissed.

Harry only threw back his head and laughed.

Somehow— even though he knew Harry was making fun of him— Draco preferred this over making him jealous. Some people might claim jealousy is a good thing to see from another person, but Draco disagreed. He knew what it felt like, and he knew how horrific it was. He never, never wanted to have Harry feel that way again.

Chapter Text

"What do you mean she's the Headmistress?" Harry yelled.

Draco unplugged his ears and sent a pointed look towards Harry. Although he must've been fuming, Harry winced and apologetically nodded towards him. "Sorry, Draco." Then his cheeks flushed and he apologized to everyone else who was present. Which was, obviously, not a lot.

"It's alright," Draco reassured. Then he bit his bottom lip and folded his arms. "Apparently, Dumbledore got himself in a little bit of trouble with the Ministry."

Hermione frowned. "What kind of trouble are you talking about?"

"I have no idea. She didn't disclose any additional information to me," Draco sighed.

He wished he knew more for Harry's sake. Sadly, Umbridge decided that he was slightly unwell in the head. For some reason, she had this crazy thought that Draco would betray the Ministry and the Inquisitorial Squad for Harry. Not that he wouldn't drop everything for Harry, but still.

"So I suppose she'll be the acting Headmistress for the rest of the term," Blaise drawled.

"It might even be until the end of next year or until..."

"Until they find a replacement," Hermione disappointedly finished.

"I doubt they will," Draco stated.

He knew the Ministry. He knew how long they'd been trying to get their clutches on it— Draco couldn't help but feel a bit worried. If he remembered correctly, his father had mentioned how the Dark Lord was looking forward to the Ministry uplifting Hogwarts. He'd mentioned something about how they'd use it to infiltrate the castle when Draco failed. Not when. If.

He sighed again. "This is a classic, political move. Umbridge and the Ministry would be fools if they decidedly hired another Headmaster. No, politically, it'd be best for them to simply keep one of their own stationed in Hogwarts. Preferably with high status like Umbridge."

"I can't image Umbridge have a high status with how horribly she teaches," Theo savagely remarked. "Honestly. Magic isn't even about the concept. It's about the skill."

"Skill and flexibility," Blaise agreed. "I can't fathom as to how her political stances are so influential. Her skill and flexibility with magic is flimsy at best."

This, of course, was the first thing their pureblood parents instilled into them. Their skillfulness and flexibility were needed in both the political field and the magical one. If they wished to be well-respected, they had to be well-respected. However, many Gryffindors were a bit confused about what Blaise had said— the trio Draco affectionately referred to as 'Hermione and the Idiot Duo' in particular.

Of course, Draco couldn't blame them.

"Dumbledore was much better," Pansy huffed. "Especially when it came to what work was assigned to us prefects. Umbridge is adding responsibility after responsibility on us."

"That's 'cause you're on the squad," Ron snickered. "Mione and I don't have that problem."

At that very moment, Draco knew Pansy was plotting to convince Umbridge it'd be a good idea to get Ron and Hermione on the squad. That murderous-slash-mischievous look in her eyes warned him of their future fate.

Draco folded his arms.

The task Pansy set for herself was, luckily, not difficult to do. It helped that Ron and Hermione were both prefects with slightly higher-than-average grades (at least in Ron's case) and they're friends with Harry, who would hold a high position in the Ministry if he ever decided to join. Pansy would probably subtly hint that having Ron and Hermione on her side would encourage Harry to lean towards her favor. Draco predicted that Umbridge would cave in.

"Not yet," Draco said ominously. "Anyways, I suppose her taking over has something to do with little Creevey."

"Collin?" Harry asked. "The one who always asks to take a picture of me?"

"Yes."

Harry groaned. "What did he do?"

"He was talking to me," Draco drawled. Harry's exasperated expression disappeared almost immediately. "I had asked him to carry a box of silver cuffs for me."

"Cuffs? Like the kinky kind?" Blaise asked. "Draco, I didn't think you had it in you."

Draco conjured a green apple and aimed for his face. "Not 'handcuffs' you git! I'd received a line of military cuffs from my acquaintance in Italy. Alois had finally finished his enhancements and I've mentioned needing his line of work once or twice. Anyways, I'd asked him to help me carry them since they were heavy."

"And he got caught holding them?" Harry asked.

"What? Of course not. He blabbed about it to his friend," Draco scoffed. He prided in his acquaintance's line of work. In fact, he'd secretly sponsored Alois's business. Draco would strangle little Creevey before he risked the business. "If someone else from the Squad had heard, it may be possible that they had told Umbridge. Surely, a kid supposedly 'dealing' armor is a considerable offense to the Ministry's expectations."

"And she took it out on Dumbledore," Ron said. "Blimey."

"He is the Headmaster," Pansy sighed. "Little Creevey shouldn't have talked to someone else about it—"

"Do you have them with you?" Theo interrupted.

Draco smirked. "It's here, yes."

"Why here?" Harry panicked.

"Please," Blaise scoffed. "Where else would he have put it? Umbridge would rather die than go up to these Towers."

"I would've thought he'd rather put it in the Slytherin Commons, not the Gryffindor ones."

"Well, you thought wrong." Blaise held out his hands. "Did he attempt the impossible?"

"He succeeded," Draco corrected. He stood up from the couch he and Harry had been sitting in and went over to the corner. He snatched a box that he'd disillusioned earlier and smirked triumphantly as he placed it on the coffee table. "Affinity enhancers. This is Alois's first batch. The next one should arrive by tomorrow morning."

Harry hesitantly picked one up. "What's this...?"

Draco leant over. "That's 'Fire'. You'll want to look for the 'Darkness' one, Harry."

"So why'd you talk to your friend about it?" Hermione asked politely. "Your friend, I mean."

"Alois has always been nothing if not bothersome and brilliant," Draco sighed. "He's been bugging me since we met, and he just wants to know everything about Hogwarts. I keep telling him he could just transfer over from Durmstrang, but of course he refuses to. I tried telling him about how I needed some military cuffs to scare him off, but he ended up being inspired and began a new line."

"Who ended up being inspired and started a new line?" the two twin Weasleys asked in unison.

"Draco's friend from Italy," Harry said brightly.

He successfully pulled a Darkness-affinity cuff out. Draco smiled as he remembered how they had found out about his affinity.

Draco had conducted the usual, easy test on him: leaf in water and watching for any changing signs. Harry had surprised him by practically disintegrating the leaf and vanishing them. Wizards with a darkness affinity were so rare and incredible, Draco had to self-restrain himself from snogging the living daylights out of Harry. Blaise, Theo, and Pansy had been a bit shaken with it themselves. Their own affinities— Blaise with fire, Theo with ice, and Pansy with water— would never be capable of taking Harry on in a fight-to-the-death duel. At the time, Ron and Hermione had barely understood what it meant when Harry's affinity came into light.

Yes, they knew how rare it was, but they didn't know how incredibly powerful Harry truly was going to become once he mastered his affinity. They had no idea what Harry was going to be capable of. What Harry was going to be capable of controlling. What army Harry was going to be capable of rising.

Luckily for them, Blaise pulled them aside and explained to them how no element could over overpower Darkness, just like how no element could ever overpower it. Well, except for Light. Which Blaise so conveniently left out of the conversation.

"'Draco', huh?" one of them—  Fred, if Draco had to guess—  snickered. He glanced towards George and smirked. "So what techy gadget did Draco's friend get you, Harry?"

"Shut up," Harry huffed. Draco shot a concerned look his way, making him sheepishly duck his head and apologize to the twins.

"Oh, you've got it bad," George teased.

"Good ol' Harry's smitten!" Fred echoed.

"Shut up!" Harry threw the silver cuff in his hand towards them. His face fell almost immediately though. "Merlin, sorry Draco."

"It's alright," Draco reassured. He accio'd it and handed it back to Harry. "It's not broken. Alois would be broke if it had."

"Cuffs?" Fred and George both asked. "Kinky."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Draco snapped. he snatched one of them— Wind, if he guessed correctly— and threw it towards them. George caught it easily. "They're affinity-boosting, silver-charged, shield-charmed, light-weighted military cuffs!"

"Very impressive," Blaise drawled. "Now, will you turn that off? It's hurting me. Besides, you need to help us slap these on."

Draco sighed, but complied. He waddled over, snatched the fire-affinity one, and gestured for Blaise to lift his arm up. The Slytherin complied and, within seconds, a steady fire was conjured. He went and helped Pansy, sadly earning nothing but a water bomb exploding in his face. Draco refused to help Theo. The bloke was, after all, an ice-affinity wizard.

He did not fancy having an icicle beard. He did not fancy having a beard in general.

Draco moved on to help Hermione put on her Earth cuff and Ron with his Energy one. Fred snatched a Lightning and George took a Wind one.

"You know, all of your affinities suit you very nicely," Draco casually noted.

"You bastard, you think I'm fiery? No offense, but I think fire is Ron," Blaise snorted.

Draco shook his head. "No, Ron would not make a decent fire wielder. I suppose he does have a strong sense of justice and would gladly burn down buildings for the people he was loyal to, but... well, I suppose he wouldn't go overboard. His actions would never be equivalent to burning down an entire forest or burning people to death. Fire can be sinister. Ron, frankly, is not.

"I think energy suits him quite nicely," Draco continued. "Almost always, Harry and Hermione are off the charts with their weird quirks like catching Snitches without good eyesight or prioritizing classes and books over having good health. Ron is the middle— the centerpiece and the balance, if you will. Harry and Hermione both need Ron, just like how all wizards need energy to cast magic."

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed. "You really thought about this, didn't you?"

"Not really," Draco dismissed. "I didn't truly think much of it until I saw you all lined up together and began making assumptions today."

"So you're saying Forge and I are lightning and wind? What?"

George was always the less articulate one. Draco remembered him calling a cat 'that thing' and referring to quills as 'those pricky, dead owl feathers'. It was Draco's first year so he'd decided that it was alright for him to cry in his bedchambers.

"Well, you're different people, are you not?" Draco asked back. George stared at him, stunned to silence. Fred looked absolutely scandalized. "Besides, you often warn people before your pranks follow through. Fred was like lightning in the sense that he strikes you before any thunder comes. You, on the other hand, are a 'howling wind before the great storm' kind of bloke."

"And Hermione?" Ron asked. "Why do you think she's Earth?"

Draco pursed his lips and looked up thoughtfully.

"I suppose it's because there is so much more than just the surface for Hermione," he offered. Ron nodded, looking far too interested in this conversation. Draco thought it was because Ron had a crush on her. "The earth is made up of so much more than what you see above land. Minerals and gases and life exists under us, and there's just so many wonderous life-beings that even eternity wouldn't be enough time to understand everything. Hermione is all about the smaller, more interesting details."

"Draco, do Theo and I next," Pansy excitedly encouraged. Draco rolled his eyes. "Make it sound as poetic as you made everyone else's."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Pansy, you have a water affinity because you wouldn't hesitate to kill millions of people for doing absolutely nothing— just like a tsunami— and Theo you have an ice affinity because you're a cold-hearted bastard."

Everyone snickered while Pansy and Theo indignantly shouted, "Hey!"

"What about me?" Harry asked when all was quiet. His hands were balled up into tight fists, and Draco could suddenly think of nothing else but the way his godfather had told him Harry was being nightly-assaulted by the Dark Lord. He wondered if Harry ever woke up after one of them and wondered if he could ever be... cruel. "How can I be... you know."

"Harry, you have a Darkness affinity because it's the most incredible one," Draco said. He dipped his neck, caught Harry's eyes, and forced him to look up. "There is nowhere darkness cannot reach; there is nothing darkness cannot conquer. Darkness is always there, whether or not you want it to be. It's constant. It's independent— a concept even the most educated wizards and wizards of our time cannot understand. No other element is like that, Harry, and that's why you have a Darkness affinity."

Harry's smile could rival the moon, the stars, and the sun.

"Wow, absolutely no hesitation at all," Fred whistled. "Obviously is a two-way street."

"I never really thought about darkness like that," Hermione kindly commented.

Draco smiled back at her as she began to fiddle with her cuffs. Draco wondered if he'd been a bit too... assuming with everyone's descriptions. He hoped he hadn't crossed any lines by saying all of that.

"You really think of me like that?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco thought about everything Harry went through, and he thought about how strong, loyal, and incredible Harry was regardless of it. He thought about how Harry had defeated the Dark Lord as a baby— Draco didn't understand how he did it, but he did. Harry was teaching a group of individuals advanced defense against the worst kinds of Dark Arts. He was leading a revolution. Draco didn't think he knew anyone as incredible as Harry was.

"Yes," Draco replied. He hoped his simple confirmation was enough.

"Hey, other people exist," Theo savagely remarked.

"Unimportant people," Draco huffed. Theo let out a scandalized gasp and turned towards Pansy for comfort, but Pansy was too busy cooing at Draco to care. Draco ignored her and cleared his throat. "So are they fitting you? Does it make a bit easier to control your affinities?"

He watched in amusement as his friends conjured their own magics and tested themselves with the the cuffs. He picked one up, admiring the molding of the cuff. As far as he was concerned, each affinity had a unique design to them. Each affinity had a different rune symbol present and, now that he had time for a closer look, he noticed how each one of them were painstakingly crafted through dragon fire.

Draco sighed, mentally planning a trip to his vault. He'd need to make a hefty not-so-anonymous donation to Alois.

"Are you alright?" Blaise asked.

Draco jumped and practically attacked him with the cuff when he whirled around. "What?"

"Are you alright?" Blaise repeated. He casually took off his silver cuff and placed it back into the box. Draco pursed his lips, took it, and put it back into his best friend's hands. "Draco, you didn't pick yours up."

Draco stared at him. Then he murmured, "I haven't practiced it in years."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You're not going to blind anyone again, Draco. You know you aren't horrible at casting that sort of magic."

"My control is no longer suitable," Draco argued.

"Well, that's what these are for."

"I didn't owl Alois for myself, Blaise."

That shut Blaise up. "It's for the war isn't it? You're afraid you won't be around to help us, aren't you?"

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. "No."

"Draco."

"It's not," he insisted. Then he glanced around the room once over before lowering his voice. "What if, as an act of loyalty, my father wants me to use my affinity against us?"

"Well, there's Harry for that," Blaise sighed. "He can cancel you out. You know that."

"Like how I can 'cancel' him out?"

"So you're basically trying to give us a better chance of survival in case you're forced to go rogue." Draco nodded. "Merlin, Draco. You have to stop caring so much about us and so little about yourself. Put yourself first and us second."

"Sounds rather difficult. What's it like?"

"Don't make me set you on fire," Blaise threatened.

Draco grinned.

"Draco," Harry greeted casually. He put an hand on Draco's shoulder and gestured for him to look down. "Look at this."

Draco watched as Harry's shadow began moving on his own accord. The shadow, which now looked like a hand, waved at him. Draco crouched down and gently touched the ground. "Shadow animation. You've done it, Harry."

"It's not that good," Harry replied, nervously rubbing the back of his nape. "Not that impressive."

"For you, perhaps not," Draco gently reminded. "Try a different shape, Harry."

The hand seemingly shifted into a heart, only for it to immediately transform into the Draco constellation. Lovely, painless flowers welled up in Draco's chest.

"Shadow manipulation and animation," he noted. "Wonderful."

Fred interrupted. "Hey Gred?"

"Yes Forge?"

"Do you know what would be awesome?"

'Oh no,' Draco inwardly panicked. He grabbed Blaise and Harry by their sleeves and pulled them away from their line of casting.

"A lightning tornado?"

"I like the way you think."

"There will be no lightning tornados!" Hermione huffed. "Honestly."

"Thank you." Pansy jumped out of her hiding spot. "I'm surprised Blaise didn't jump in and offer to conjure some flames to make the damage much worse."

"I would have if Draco didn't wrestle me aside," Blaise snapped. He shrugged Draco's grip off. "What in Merlin's name got into you?"

Draco sheepishly laughed. "My apologies. I'd assumed we were going to be target practice. I hadn't moved quickly enough for my peacocks and I didn't really fancy seeing either of you explode so..."

Everyone laughed, only to stop as abruptly as they started.

"Wait, target practice?" Theo asked. "They— they were used as target practice at the Manor and killed?"

"Exploded," Draco corrected.

"Yes, because that is so much better," Blaise drawled.

"Wait, Draco, they were your most beloved. Why would they— why would you let that happen to them?" Theo asked.

"I didn't exactly have a choice," Draco said. "Father ordered me to."

"On the bright side, he got a lot of free quills," Ron dead-panned.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "That was insensitive and rude!"

Draco only laughed. "No, he's right. Mother helped me collect the feathers. It was just a shame we couldn't clean the blood out of them."

"Woah, this conversation went dark real fast— let's talk about something else! Why are there so many of these... these very interesting cuffs?" Pansy quickly asked.

"Oh, right!" Draco clapped his hands twice and walked back over to the box. He picked it up and handed it to Harry. "These were originally for the D.A. There are about thirty pairs in here, but Alois will send some more. I told him that I needed about eighty anyways."

"The DA?" Harry squeaked. "Why the DA?"

"What are you going to do with the other fifty pairs?" Hermione asked.

"Well, the DA because there truly is no other way I can show my support," Draco answered, "and there is no plan for the last fifty. I just liked the number."

"You liked the number?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, Draco enjoys even numbers that can be divided by ten or eighty," Pansy sighed. "Apparently, there are more than one line of symmetry for both of those numbers."

"But that's more than half of what we needed!" Harry exclaimed. "How can you decide to just buy things depending on the number?"

Draco shrugged. "Well, we didn't just need twenty-eight, Harry. There's the other people of your House and other people of my House. Besides, twenty-eight is an awful number. It can't even be divisible by three, and three's a horizontally symmetrical number."

"I literally have no idea what you just said," Harry replied.

"Nevermind," Draco sighed. "Anyways, you'll need to figure out what each of their affinities are, Harry."

"Aren't you going to be there? These are yours after all."

"No...?" Draco looked up thoughtfully. "Technically, I've gifted them to you. They're yours now. Besides, I have never come to a DA meeting before. Why would I now?"

"Maybe since you bought these? I'm pretty sure everyone is going to be wondering who bought them," Ron offered.

"Yes, because each and every one present will be pleased to know that I, Draco Malfoy, purchased a line of affinity-boosting military cuffs. They'll immediately fall over themselves in admiration and not hesitate to slap these on their forearms," he drawled. "They would never believe that I was on their side, Ron, and I'd rather it remain that way. The less people know, the better."

"Less people know what?" George asked.

"Private information."

"Pretty sure half of us already think you and Harry are dating," Fred easily said. "Cho started talking about you two holding hands last few meetings."

Draco shot a worried glance Harry's way, but he looked too shocked by the news to actually say anything. 'Great.'

"Holding hands?" Theo asked, scandalized. He smirked not-so-discreetly and raised his eyebrows. "When was this?"

"A few weeks ago when my core was too weak to be stable on its own," Draco deadpanned.

"So your cores are compatible," Hermione noted. Pansy squealed, earning several odd glances. "Very interesting."

"And him holding your hand helped," Ron added very slowly.

"Yes."

"Wow. Alright. So are you still weak or...?" Blaise asked.

"It's still healing," Draco sighed.

When he had been preoccupied with the flowers, he'd been a bit to ignorant to the action effects of it. His fate wasn't that he was going to die alone by choking on bloodied flowers; it was that his magical core was slowly being drained of its energy. That was why Draco had felt so sluggish the week before he collapsed of exhaustion. The flowers' run on him that Valentine's night had been the one thing that pushed him over the edge. This depletion of his core's energy was also part of the reason why Draco was terrified on putting on his affinity's cuff.

The other was that he had no idea how powerful or how weak he was because of this depletion.

The best thing he could do is simply not cast Light-based magic. He'd need to not cast it until he felt like he was whole again. And Harry holding his hand— reassuring him that the flowers weren't of the bad sort— made him feel that way. Once again, Draco was smacked in the face with how much he loved the bloke.

"How long do you reckon it'll take?" Ron asked.

'Forever,' Draco secretly hoped.

"Well, magical cores are incredibly delicate. You can't cast any spells or brew any potions to speed up the healing of it. Usually, though, it takes years to reverse a single scratch. I haven't exactly taken any scans to see the injuries, but I suppose it'll take a lot longer than a month," Draco explained slowly. "Physical interaction helps apparently. It makes me feel a little more grounded and stable. Harry's been kind enough to help."

"Oh really? How kind of Harry to volunteer," Blaise drawled. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and Harry fidgeted on his feet. "He most definitely does not have any ulterior motives for agreeing to hold your hand."

"Well..." Draco looked up thoughtfully, silently debating with himself. "Harry had actually figured it out before I did. He held my hand while we were at the Hospital Wing and helped me out, but then he was startled and practically threw his arms up. When Harry realized how badly it hurt, Harry immediately helped me again."

"Yes, yes of course," Blaise dismissively agreed. His scrutinizing glare was still trained on Harry.

"Merlin, it sounds like we missed a lot," George commented. "We even didn't spend that much time studying for our NEWTs."

"When did this even happen?" Fred asked.

"A few weeks ago," Draco replied easily. "Valentine's Day."

"Valentine's Day," the twins echoed.

Finally, Fred sighed loudly. Draco thought that this was the first time he'd ever seen Fred look a bit frustrated. After all, even though George was the one with higher morals, Fred was the one who had a habit of seeing the best of the worst situations. For him to sigh and look that disappointed... Draco wondered what could have been so disheartening about Valentine's Day.

"I think it's time Gred and I go off. We have a firework display to put on anyways."

That definitely did not sound ominous at all.

"Fireworks? What is there to celebrate?" Ron asked.

"Why, the opening of our shop of course!" Fred and George replied in unison. And then, without another word, they were gone.

"I feel like they're going to get expelled," Ron sighed. "Mum's going to freak."

"I feel like they're going to do something very interesting," Blaise remarked.

And frankly, Draco agreed.

Chapter Text

"Blaise, could I talk to you?" Harry asked quietly, pulling him aside while everyone was still talking.

Blaise glanced towards him, noticed the nervous fidgeting, and agreed. "Alright. Let's go up to your room."

"My room?"

"Yes. Where else can we go to get privacy in this tower? You don't seem to have a balcony like we do in the dungeons," he replied easily. He waved a dismissive hand at those who glanced towards them. Draco, of course, was one of them. "We'll be back briefly."

Though he appeared wary, Draco nodded.

With that, the two of them made their way to Harry's room, which was messy in a way that Blaise just knew Draco would be furious to learn about. There were many beds in the room, strangely enough, and all of them were a terrible mix of orange and red. Only one of them had a strange wooly sweater with the letter 'H' on it lying on the foot of the bed. Blaise inferred that it was Harry's.

"So what is it?" he asked. Blaise leant back against the wall casually.

Harry, who had just shut the door, fidgeted with his fingers nervously. "This is really awkward but... I think I have to confess something to you."

Blaise blinked. "I beg your pardon— what ? While I'm flattered, I thought you had feelings for Draco. I mean, you said you did at some point. Additionally, I have a boyfriend. You can't possibly confess to me."

"Ugh, no! Why would it be you?" Harry asked. Though Blaise was not, in any way, offended, Harry's cheeks pinkened. "Sorry. I just forgot you knew."

Blaise cleared his throat. "So what is it then?"

"Well..."

"Does it have to do with Draco? More specifically, about you liking him?"

Waiting patiently, Blaise figured Harry was either going to ask him to help him confess to Draco or he was going to ask him to not mention his feelings to Draco. Which, by the way, was ridiculous. If Blaise didn't tell Harry about Draco's feelings for him yet, what made Harry think that he was going to tell Draco of his feelings for him now?

"Yeah... I mean, it sort of does have something to do with, um, how I like Draco, but..."

"Oh this is cute," Blaise couldn't resist from saying. He moved away from the wall and grinned cheekily. "You want to confess, don't you?"

"Not 'want to' per say but..." Harry sighed. "Well, I think that Draco's Hanahaki is... I think that it affected me."

"What?" Blaise cleared his throat. "How? Why?"

"A few nights ago," Harry started, "when Draco was still recovering, I woke up from a nightmare. Draco brought me up to the Astronomy Tower, and we watched the stars together. He pointed out a few constellations and stars to me, and right when I was about to tell him that we should probably go back inside, I... well, I got sick."

Blaise stared at him blankly, his brain not working properly even though he knew it should be right then and there. Harry was trying to tell him something about Draco's Hanahaki and the effect exposure of it had on him.

Harry stomped over to his bed, yanked something from underneath his pillow, and hesitated before turning back to Blaise.

"It's not that bad since it just started appearing, but..."

Then it clicked.

"Harry, are you saying that—"

"Yeah," Harry replied.

He opened his clenched fists, exposing a small pile of flowers. They weren't bloodied or anything even remotely close to the horror that is Draco's usual piles, but the sight of seeing them made Blaise want to hurl.

How is it that something so harmless, so innocent-looking, could cause so much pain for one of his best friends? If not his best best friend? How much pain had Harry been when this pile emerged? How much pain had Draco been in back when it started in his third year? How much pain was Draco currently enduring?

Blaise couldn't help but imagine— really imagine— what that afternoon felt like for Draco when he'd not only puked out a big heap of flowers, but also fallen down the stairs. He couldn't help but imagine what that night felt like when Draco's body was so cold and bloodied in the morning.

He hated that he was so ignorant.

He hated that when he found out that Draco took Voldemort's Dark Mark and received an assignment Blaise knew was still weighing on him, Blaise had not been louder in objecting.

In some other world, someone was both cursing him and laughing at him for being so stupid and ignorant.

"I don't have as much as Draco has, but—"

"But nothing. We have to do something," Blaise said, jolting out of his daze as soon as Harry began speaking. "You should tell Draco."

Harry stared at him. "That's what Ron said too, but how can I do that without, y'know, burdening Draco even more? I mean, he's already done so much for me. He's already given me his property, helped me find something of my parents', offered to spy for me, and now he's helping out with the DA. Hasn't he already done enough?"

"So you want to suffer?" Blaise asked.

Harry winced. "No but—"

"But you don't want Draco to suffer. I understand." He paused. "What makes you think Draco is going to be burdened if you confess to him?"

Harry's face contorted, making him look both pained and conflicted.

Blaise waited patiently for him to continue. It was the least he could do after learning Harry's secret.

At least, it seemed like a secret for Blaise. Pansy hinted towards this, which means that Harry had only told Blaise and Ron. It wasn't surprising that Harry told Ron, but it was surprising that Harry had come to him.

He still carried the same thoughts Draco had these past few months: 'Why would they want to confide in me?'

Especially Harry.

It was oddly warming to be someone that can be confided in.

It felt especially warming to hear vulnerability from the person himself.

"Well," Harry began, "remember when Pansy got you drunk on Christmas? You told everyone how he helped you a lot. Draco saw that you were, er, in pain, I guess, and he didn't hesitate to help you. I know he was probably yelled at for that, but he didn't even hesitate. It just— well, you know how Draco has it for someone too? When it comes out that it's not me—"

"If," Blaise corrected.

Harry stared at him.

"I apologize. Please continue."

"Right, er, if it comes out that it's not me," he continued obliviously, "and I ask him to help me... well, you saw what he did for the D.A. I didn't ask him to, and Draco did it anyways."

Blaise nodded along, waiting for it to dawn on Harry that Draco usually would not do something like that unless he cared deeply for a person. In fact, Harry should already know this, but Blaise supposed love made him even more blinder than per usual.

"I think," Harry said carefully, though his tone escalated the more words he spoke. "I think Draco will try to help me too. He won't care for himself, which is probably going to make things worse for him since it'll be like him having to choose between either helping me or helping himself from the same thing and—"

"Calm down," Blaise said. He rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. He waited until Harry began breathing normally, unsure of how to help him exactly. It wasn't as though he'd ever been good at calming people other than Draco down anyway. "You're right that Draco will want to help you, but you and I both know that he will listen if you tell him to stop it."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"So... this means that you should tell him, Harry."

Blinking, Harry looked as though Blaise had just something completely and utterly stupid.

"Why? I mean, why would I do that?"

Blaise pursed his lips. "Because you're undergoing a less horrific version of Draco's Hanahaki disease and telling him would one: help you, and two: help you. Additionally, you're taking away his choice by not saying anything at all. How do you think he's going to react if he hears that you have the Hanahaki disease because of him and learns it from other sources instead of you?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Don't tell him!"

"Of course I won't," Blaise replied. He paused, letting Harry relax before dropping the bomb. "Not now anyway."

"Blaise!" he hissed.

Blaise smirked and lent backwards, folding his arms naturally.

"God, you're such a Slytherin!" Harry cursed.

"Such an astute observation. Well done."

Harry scowled and looked away.

"I'm not going to tell him, you know. I'm not going to ask him to do anything about this. Even if it costs me my life, you can't guilt-trip me into doing otherwise."

"Sure," Blaise drawled. "I look forward to standing at your funeral then. I'm sure Adrian Montague will look forward to it as well. He'll have a chance with Draco then."

Harry immediately glared at him with such an intensity, Blaise could sort of see where the dark part of his darkness affinity came into play.

"No."

"Please, Harry. It's not like you'll have any say in it. You'll be dead by then, and Draco will be absolutely heartbroken that he had a chance to save you, but couldn't. And who will be there to help him pick up all the pieces, but the one person who baked him the chocolate cakes that always cheered him up and waited patiently for his chance to love Draco for all these years?"

Harry's scowl worsened, and the air actually crackled with hatred and jealousy.

"No," he repeated.

Blaise continued with the mind-fucking, smiling a bit on the inside. Jealousy was always a good motivator. Whether it be for someone's better grades or for someone else, jealousy was bound to work in favor of the one who planted thoughts of it in their victims friends. Blaise was in for a good theatre show.

"Adrian will be there to help Draco heal from your loss, and everything that Draco does for you now, he will do for someone else. All the smiles, hand-holding, and dates that are not quite dates, and maybe even further in the future, there'll be a mini Draco running around with Adrian's eyes in the backyard of Draco's Le Havre safehouse—"

Crack!

Blaise turned his head in surprise, noticing the broken glass shards and the dark ink that was spilt over the nearby desk.

'Mission accomplished,' he thought silently as he glanced back at Harry. 'He'll fall into the cards now.'

"Draco gave that place to me," Harry gritted out. "It's mine. He's mine."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the intense possessiveness. When Harry calmed enough to get out of it, Blaise was going to have a deep chat with him about that.

After all, love is not the same as possession.

Harry would do well to remember that.

"Are you sure?" Harry's eyes darkened impossibly. "Because if you don't give Draco the chance to possibly save you, you're practically giving both of those things away."

Harry said nothing.

"At least, if Draco knew," Blaise continued, "he'll be there to keep you alive. You'll be able to keep Adrian away from him, and there will be no 'picking up of pieces' after a death. Maybe he'll return the feelings and, instead of a mini Draco with Adrian's eyes, it'll be a mini Draco with your eyes. Can't you imagine it, Harry? It'll be your kid in Draco's arms, your kid with Draco's affections. And to think: all you have to do is tell him."

He paused for a few moments, letting everything he said sink in for Harry.

"Doesn't that sound brilliant, Harry?" he asked softly and slowly. Blaise restrained himself from smirking when Harry nodded.

"You know Draco will agree with you. You know he'll want to help you. You know you can stop him from going out with someone like Adrian," he said, deliberately spitting out Adrian's name.

The effect was instantaneous.

Harry nodded, his green eyes lighting up with determination.

Blaise smirked.

"So tell him. Tell him all your pain and let him take it all away. Express your feelings and watch him choose you. Let him know everything and remember this situation as his future continues to include you."

He lent away, breaking the trance.

"The longer you wait, the more Hanahaki hurts, Harry," Blaise said.

He shut his eyes and remembered how he'd been the last one to know about Draco's pain. He remembered how it felt like a million insignificant betrayals rolled into one because a million insignificant things become really significant when delivered in one blow.

He remembered how not even a few weeks after he found out, Draco collapsed on a staircase, tumbled down it, and bled so profusely, it took him far too long to recover. And he remembered how Theo had told him it happened in their third year and how Draco not knowing who he fancied was probably the one thing that stopped Hanahaki from accelerating and finishing Draco off at a quicker pace.

Things were different for Harry.

Harry knew who he was in love with.

There's no telling how long he had before it worsened, but Blaise suspected it wouldn't be weeks.

"Yeah," Harry replied, his voice sounding hallow. "I know."

For a split second, Blaise wondered if his deliberate exercise of mind-fucking actually messed his victim up.

He only had a brief moment of regret though, for Harry threw the door open and came face to face with a wide-and-teary-eyed, paler-than-normal Draco.

'Fuck,' Blaise cursed inwardly. 'Draco was listening in on us.'

Draco, having recovered quicker than Harry did, decided to— to both Blaise's and Harry's surprise— grabbed Harry by the collar and surged forwards. Blaise winced, imagining how much their mouths much hurt due to such a harsh movement. However, it seemed that Draco had not crossed that line yet.

"Harry," Draco stated simply.

He then directed his glare to Blaise, taking him by surprise for the third time that day.

It's been years since Draco had been really pissed at him, but Blaise couldn't recall if his best friend had ever looked this upset even then. Like Blaise had kicked his precious piano out of pure spite.

"Did you know?" Draco demanded.

"Just learned about it today," Blaise reassured.

"Why did you tell him and not me?" he snapped, now glaring at Harry.

Harry cowered. "I... because I knew you would be like this," he said.

If Blaise had not seen the misery written all over Harry's face, he would have known Harry was miserable from the worn-out, afraid tone he'd just used.

"What do you mean 'like this?' Furious that you didn't tell me the moment this started happening?" Draco fumed.

He tugged Harry back when Harry attempted to move out of his grasp— why he would want to do that, Blaise didn't understand. At least, not until Harry hunched over and proceeded to heave out a small pile of flowers. It sickened Blaise, but it didn't seem to bother Draco all too much.

Draco simply waited it out and took Harry's hand into his.

"It's okay. It'll be over soon," Draco murmured soothingly.

When it did seem like it was ending, Draco tugged Harry a bit closer and pressed their foreheads together.

"Sorry."

Draco told him to shut up.

Blaise wished his boyfriend was with him.

But because his boyfriend was off doing something he knew his boyfriend wasn't exactly sure of doing, Blaise would have to blend in with the background and inch out of the room without Harry or Draco noticing.

Easier said than done apparently.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco asked again, softer this time. "You know I—"

"That you would do that? Yeah," Harry said. "That's exactly why I didn't want to tell you."

"Harry," Draco huffed. "What makes you think that I didn't want to do that?"

"I— wait, what?" Harry sputtered.

"He meant that he wants to kiss you," Blaise said, interrupting the moment.

The two of them turned to him, looking comical with how they appeared confused to see him even though Harry had been the one to come looking for him in the first place and Draco had told him to shut up twice.

"Harry thought you wouldn't want to kiss him without him being affected by a different form of your Hanahaki," Blaise informed. Harry sent him a betrayed look.

"Is this true?" Draco demanded.

"Well yeah, but you also have, er, your own thing."

"What thing? Didn't I tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I figured it out about a week ago." Blaise stared at him, gaping like an idiot. "Funny enough, Severus helped me. He kept telling me about Amorentia and how it doesn't work if you're already in love with the brewer. It ended for me."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, but Snape told you this?" Blaise wheezed.

"Shut up, Blaise," Draco huffed. "And yes, Severus was the one to tell me. It seemed he got frustrated with my stupidity and decided that he'd had about enough of it. He basically told me that you, Harry, were in love with me and everything shot right out of me."

"So you knew that I—"

"Yes, and I had a chat with Pansy about it because I obviously didn't know how to tell you so we decided that I would show you that I was interested and then you would ask me out or something like that and— bloody hell, I'm ranting, aren't I?"

"Draco, you... you knew?" Harry asked. "You knew that I liked you?"

"Awkward..." Blaise whistled.

"That you liked me, yes, but not that you had Hanahaki," Draco replied quickly. "If I did, I would have done something. I— how long?"

"A few weeks. After we sat under the stars."

'Under the stars? How romantic,' Blaise mused. Personally, he was interested in stealing the idea and inviting Cassius out on a date under the stars.

"What? Harry, I looked like an absolute mess back then!"

"Yeah, but I mean, you tried comforting me after I had a nightmare and you were really happy when telling me everything you knew about the stars. The only thing I could think about the whole time was about how happy I am to sit with someone so beautiful and intelligent. The next thing I knew, I was hurling to the side."

Draco swallowed. "What flower was the first one you noticed? When you realized you, um, liked me?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Mine was a lily," Draco said. "As in the name of your mother."

Harry's eyes widened. "Mine was a narcissus."

"Why does it matter, Draco?" Blaise asked. "So what if the two flowers match your mother's names?"

Draco swallowed. "Lately, I've been wondering why it happened to me, but not to anyone else. I had a lot of guesses such as magical signatures and blood heritage, but when it turns out Harry had it too, I had the insane thought that maybe I could find a clue in the flowers. And I did. Our mothers, Harry. What is one thing our mothers have in common?"

"I don't know. Their names?" Harry asked, scrunching up his nose. "They're named after flowers."

"Well, yes and no. That's not the answer I'm looking for, but it's a good start," Draco said.

He breathed in deeply. "Look, remember when I went back to the manor over Yule break? Mother— she told me that all she ever wanted was for me to be safe. She pushed family heirlooms into my hands, endangering her safety if anyone like my father or Aunt Bellatrix caught wind of what she had done. So, in a way, she sacrificed herself in my stead, much like how your mother sacrificed herself for your stead.

And our magic's reaction to the love sacrifices must have demanded for us to return the sacrifice. So when we love someone as much as our mothers love us, or when we are willing to do anything for that person, our body begins to slowly sacrifice itself through a connection to the original sacrifice. As such, we had Hanahaki because the people who sacrificed themselves for us— our mothers— had floral names. Magic wants us to remember the sacrifice by letting it be the one thing that kills us."

"Wait, if that does apply, then why did yours start years before Narcissa did this, and why did Harry's begin years after his mother died?" Blaise asked.

It was certainly an interesting theory.

Sacrifices demanding retribution, that is. Did it mean that sacrifices are generally pointless? Did it mean that sacrifices shouldn't be made?

"I think mine started because I had recently found out about what father did to Girl Weasley. Mother kept assuring me that she would play peacemaker between us, but she didn't know whether or not Father would try to put me in danger again purely for the sake of possibly getting to Harry. After I read the letter, I woke up to a flower petal," Draco explained. "I don't know if it means I realized I was in love with Harry then, but this theory makes the most sense to me."

"It would explain why we could never find anything about it in all those libraries," Blaise said. "We've been looking at possible curses or genetically transferred misfortunes this whole time. Hermione even researched if it had a connection to Amorentia."

"Hermione said it would explain why you got sick so suddenly and badly," Harry added. "It made sense until Ron mentioned how it couldn't have been related to Amorentia because Amorentia is about fake love, not..."

Draco's eyes softened. "Yes. I'd agree with Ron in that case."

Blaise, on the other hand, rolled his eyes. "Continuing forwards, Pansy also had suspicions that it had been a potion gone haywire in your third year that was still affecting you now. When Theo gave you his own concoction, she thought it must have reacted badly with whatever the contents were. However, when your Hanahaki continued..."

"You safely assumed it wasn't," Draco finished. "That, I understand. But 'a potion gone haywire'? Blaise, how long have you known me?"

"Far too long apparently," Blaise replied, not quite liking the manic look in his eyes.

Draco ignored him and continued with saying, "Have you ever known me to mess up a potion? Be honest."

"Alright, Draco, we all know you're perfect in Potions. Calm down, " Harry laughed.

Flushing, Draco turned away with a huff.

"Fine."

"How cute. Please save your cutesy couple stuff for when there isn't a third wheel in the room," Blaise drawled. When he received a nasty glare, he pretended as though he never said anything. "Draco, your theory makes the most sense except that there has never been a case similar to yours."

"At least nobody is like me," Draco muttered.

Blaise pursed his lips. "Not a good thing in this situation."

"I know."

"I think I know why there's not been something similar," Harry suddenly piped up.

Blaise looked at him. "Well?"

Harry cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head and smiling nervously. "I think it's because Draco and I... we hated each other in the beginning. Not a lot of people can do a complete one-eighty and y'know..."

"I think that makes sense."

"I think it makes sense too," Draco offered warmly. Then he frowned. "I still can't believe you didn't tell me. Honestly, how could you have thought that I wouldn't want to help you? Especially for this?"

Harry shrugged, sheepish and embarrassed. "Well, did you ever think I might have felt the same way?"

"Well, once or twice, but I usually tossed those thoughts out pretty quickly. After all, why would you want me? You're—"

"Something you can both discuss when you're alone," Blaise interrupted. "What? Don't look at me like that. I've been stuck here for thirty minutes playing therapist to Harry over here—"

"Hey!" Harry interjected. "That's not true!"

Blaise continued. "— and I've also been a third wheel to you two and your attempts of being inconsiderately in love in front of me for even longer than that. So please excuse me if I would like to get out of this situation as soon as possible. I am very much pleased both of you are finally feeling better and finally got your heads out your arses, but I would really like to go downstairs."

Both of them flushed.

Although he truly was happy for them, he was more fed up than anything else.

"Feel free to snog while I enlighten everyone else."

Impossibly, their faces reddened even further.

"Blaise!" they both yelled.

Blaise simply smirked and whistled as he walked down the steps. Moments later, the Gryffindor Tower echoed with cheers and tears of happiness.

Pansy, for some reason, was exceptionally pleased. She kept murmuring, "About damn time," even when Draco and Harry finally joined them and the room erupted into louder cheers.

Chapter Text

Dating Harry made Draco feel like he was dreaming.

It felt like he was living a dream in which impossible things happened everyday. It felt like he had no choice but to live impossibly, and yet Draco never wanted to wake up.

He and Harry had spoken a bit more about everything between them— Hanahaki, sacrifice, and the like— during the past few weeks, and Draco felt as though their bond was nothing more than strong now. 

Back then— before Harry outed himself and Draco thoroughly snogged him with Blaise in the background, being salty about being the third-wheel— there had been something that was between them. Something that held back from being completely honest and happy with each other. Something closely related to their feelings with each other.

Their insecurities, formed by the impossible set of standards by their parental figures (not really all that parental for Harry and his muggle relatives), had been a huge pain in the arse for the both of them. It made a lot of things difficult for them to understand. For lack of better examples: the way Harry didn't understand why Draco could fancy him and the way Deaco couldn't understand why people wanted him alive.

But it was different now.

Definitely different.

Draco's chest no longer felt heavy as he watched Harry smile. He no longer felt emotionless and detached. There wasn't some nagging feeling telling him Harry still held a grudge. Draco felt he was allowed to hold hands with Harry without the fear that Harry was doing it out of pity and stupidity. He was allowed to pull Harry in for a kiss whenever he wanted to.

However, not everything was golden.

There were some moments when Draco thought Harry still pitied him, and there were definitely some moments when Harry was absolutely clueless that Draco was so besotted with him.

However, Draco would often remember that he was the one who had caught Harry in a vulnerable position. He was the one who snogged Harry thoroughly that beautiful day in the Gryffindor Tower, and he was the one who asked Harry to actually put a label to what they were. And Harry had let him all those times.

And Harry had once told him that whenever he felt a bit unloved, Harry'd remember Draco had had the Hanahaki disease first, and then he'd remember the sentiment was mutual long before he himself realized he was in love with Draco.

His first statement immediately made Draco pull him in for a tight hug whilst his second earned him an embarrassed slap on the arm.

Their difficulties were resolved so easily, Draco almost couldn't believe it.

And he would happily bet a hundred galleons that Harry felt the same way.

On a good day, he might be willing to triple that bet.

Especially during that one Monday— this made him believe Mondays were capable of being good days— when Harry admitted he had wanted to kiss Draco so many times over the course of their friendship. Harry had previously believed Draco had been interested in someone else, and therefore, refused to cave in and do the cutesy, romantic stuff he wanted to do with him. However, now that they were dating, Harry was pleased to note that he was allowed to force Draco to do as many cutesy, romantic stuff as he wanted.

Draco secretly didn't mind.

Harry had been particularly pleased to learn that the 'cutesy, romantic stuff' also included private dates in the library. More than once did they branch away from their friend group to hide in the library and simply read books with each other. Many of those times, they wandered to the table where Harry's parents had engraved their names, and Draco would read beside him silently while Harry flipped through his family's picture book.

Reading for fun was never one of Draco's strengths. Despite his intelligence and 'nerdiness'— as Ron had once referred to it as— Draco disliked sitting still and getting emotionally attached to characters he knew might get into trouble in later chapters. He didn't like imagining as though he lived in other world when reality was already too much for him to handle.

But for Harry it was the opposite.

Reading, Draco learned, was Harry's escape from reality back when he still lived with the Dursleys and didn't know about magic.

It was apparently the only quiet activity in which he could avoid be yelled at for doing back when he was a child. Draco found the idea of a younger Harry reading to be cute until he realized that Harry hadn't been allowed to do many activities as a child.

He was pissed when he figured out that Harry's childhood was awfully lonely and that he hadn't exactly made his trauma any lighter when they were eleven.

To distract himself, Draco had confided in him concerning his plan to return to the Malfoy Manor. Harry still disagreed, but he wasn't as forceful as he'd been back then. However, his protectiveness was still overwhelming. Especially when Draco mentioned that he wanted to atone for his past choices and that he couldn't exactly care about whether he lived or not through the summer to do so.

Not only did they speak about those sorts of things, but they also talked a bit about what they imagined Harry's parents were like— which nearly made Draco want to tear his own hair out when he realized just what a happy childhood Harry had been deprived of. He'd been angry and withdrawn afterwards, and he wanted to dive into necromancy to give Harry a minute with his family.

But now that he had time to calm down, Draco admitted that he'd never been happier.

Ignoring the strange look Harry was giving him, Draco smiled at him brightly. Harry simply sent a pointed glare at the stack of books on the library table.

Draco just looked away and kept smiling.

He knew he needed to read through the course materials again to really make sure he didn't miss anything for all the subjects he was taking, and he knew he came here to help Harry study for his OWLs, but he was sadly the worst tutor Harry could have possibly had. He just kept getting distracted whenever Harry triumphantly smiled after answering a question with ease; he kept wanting to tease Harry whenever he glared at the Potions book he clearly didn't want to go near.

As consequence, they didn't get much done together.

He had a difficult time feeling horrible about it, however, Hermione arrived to help.

If there was a scenario that Draco could label 'happy,' this would be the scenario.

Whatever life he was living, he knew it had to be a dream.

After all, Harry— the bloke he has been in love with since third year— was his boyfriend. His boyfriend.

"Draco? What are you doing? Come on," Harry called.

He snapped out of his daze.

"Apologies. I was just thinking to myself," Draco replied with a smile.

Harry smiled back just as sweetly and held out his right hand. Draco immediately slotted their fingers together, blood rushing to his cheeks as it usually does whenever they do something even remotely romantic.

"What even goes on in that mind of yours?" Harry teased. "Are your thoughts really all that interesting?"

Draco huffed and pouted. "For your information, a lot goes on in my mind and yes, my thoughts are interesting."

Harry's smile simply broadened.

"Can we go now?" Ron complained. "I like to sleep and all this lovey-dovey banter is annoying. Glad you've finally got together, but it's very annoying to third wheel all the time."

Thinking of how pouty Blaise had been several weeks ago and how similarly they were both acting, Draco laughed.

"Thank you for your input. We will wisely not consider it."

"Yep. What he said," Harry said, bumping their shoulders together. "I mean, you were the one who encouraged me to do this. It's kind of your fault."

Ron mockingly laughed. "Yeah, it means you should be thanking me, mate. Not annoying me."

"Well, Ron, you wouldn't be annoyed if you asked Hermione out on a date. Don't give me that look. We both know you like her. Where's your Gryffindor courage?" Draco scolded. "Besides, it's not as though she'll say no."

"Yeah! So what are you so afraid of?" Harry asked enthusiastically.

Draco hid a small smile.

He couldn't help but still think of Harry as the unofficial third wheel of the trio.

The smile grew when Harry shouldered both of their bags on his left shoulder. Draco squeezed his fingers as means of gratitude, and judging by how Harry himself grinned back, the message must have gotten across.

"Good night. I'll see you tomorrow," he said to Harry when they sadly arrived at the Slytherin dungeons.

"Good night," Harry replied.

Draco decided not to look into the fact that Harry didn't reply with his usual "of course you will" too deeply. He had a nasty feeling that this strangeness most likely had something to do with what had happened during their Transfiguration OWLs. Harry had, after all, looked terrified for no reason whatsoever. However, he knew Harry would come talk to him when he was ready. He was certain of it.

"Sweet dreams, Draco."

"You as well, love."

As cheesey as it sounded, 'Harry' became synonymous with 'love' at some point in his life. After they made their relationship official, Draco couldn't stop himself from saying 'love' in place of Harry's name. It just felt so easy to do so.

Harry, of course, didn't mind that Draco couldn't control himself. In fact, Harry loved the pet name, judging by how Harry's eyes brightened and how he pressed a sweet kiss to Draco's cheek.

Beside them, Ron gagged.

"Please— please stop doing this every night," he begged. "Harry, you don't need to bring him back to the dungeons every night and Draco, you don't need to give him pet names and remind me of how single I am."

"You wouldn't be single if you asked out Hermione," Draco repeated innocently.

Harry laughed as Ron stared at them in both horror and betrayal.

"I hate you. I hate both of you."

Both of their grins simply widened. They then exchanged another brief round of goodbyes before Draco went off to bed, mind still boggling at the fact he was capable of being so happy.

He snuggled into his blankets and sighed. Draco was just about to doze off when he suddenly cursed, jolting awake as mortification settled into his very being. He had been so focused on reminiscing, he'd forgotten to study for the last of his OWL exams.

Draco practically leapt towards his desk, summoning all the books he needed quickly.

However, not even an hour into his last-minute studying, Blaise bursted into his room. Of course, Draco did not yelp.

"What the—"

"It's Harry," Blaise panted, his eyes so frantic, Draco followed him out of the Slytherin dungeons as fast as his legs would carry him without complaint.

"What do you mean? What happened to Harry?"

"He was caught."

"Caught doing what?" Draco asked.

At that, Blaise let out a cold laugh. "Merlin, Harry didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Draco's mind raced as he tried to figure out what exactly Harry was supposed to tell him, but didn't. Now that he was in trouble for this something, Draco wondered if it would be alright for him to strangle his boyfriend. He'd have to ask Blaise later of course. Blaise had a much longer relationship than him.

"He got caught," Blaise repeated as though it might actually mean something to him.

"Yes, I heard you. He got caught doing what?" Draco asked nervously, his mind now jumping to the worst conclusion possible.

That conclusion being Harry cheated on him. Not that he would. Harry was too kind and too considerate to let something like that happen. Especially when they've been close to losing each other all year.

Blaise shook his head. "He snuck into the Headmistress' office to use her floor. Umbridge thinks he contacted Dumbledore."

"What?"

However, they had arrived at the mentioned office and had to cut their conversation short. Draco smartly casted a freshening charm over himself and stepped inside. It, of course, wouldn't do him or his image well if he appeared disheveled, worried, and exhausted.

Harry immediately looked towards the door when it open, his eyes wide and fearful when they landed on Draco. He sat uncomfortably against a wooden chair as Draco's eyes zeroed in on his hand, where he hadn't realized there was a nasty scar there.

It was definitely the work of Umbridge— also known as the pink pig of the Ministry.

Draco frowned.

It was a no-brainer that he did not like seeing Harry look so mistreated. However, there was nothing he could do but hope his presence might convince the pink pig to leave Harry alone. Perhaps he could even manipulate Umbridge into letting Harry go. It should work considering that his father still held a considerable amount of power within the Ministry and, by default, could majorly impact Umbridge's life in the future.

For now, though, Draco might need to convince her that he was on her side for whatever it is that Harry had gotten in trouble for this time. This would pave way for what had to be the easiest method to trick a blind bigot like her: flattery, suggestion, ultimatum.

Now happy that he had a plan, Draco looked around for Umbridge. He smiled warmly when he saw her.

"Headmistress Dolores," Draco greeted, not minding that his mouth tasted like ash as soon as he spoke her name.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," she replied. She was obviously pleased that he finally took up her offer of referring to her by her first name. "I hope I did not interrupt a study session by requesting for your existence."

"I was resting when Blaise arrived. So what, exactly, do you need my assistance for?"

"It is nothing of a big matter."

Draco resisted the urge to yell "If it wasn't something that mattered, why the hell would you bind Harry to a chair and call for me?"

"Mr. Potter, here, appears to be incapable of getting out of trouble. I would have thought that your…" she grimaced— "influence would have helped his behavior."

Draco hated her for speaking as though Harry was a rabid animal.

"Our newly found acquaintanceship, Dolores, is simply that," Draco said. "I assure you: I have no more influence over Potter's behavior as you or any other wizard does. Regardless, I am displeased to hear he might have sullied my family's good name by representing me incidentally."

"I see. Well, the reason why Mr. Potter is present here is because I caught him sneaking in my office and using the floo without permission," the annoying woman continued. "He was contacting your previous headmaster, Dumbledore."

Draco glanced towards Harry, who immediately mouthed 'Sirius' at him. Understanding the confusion and that he couldn't defuse the situation by explaining that it had not been an old coot, but a wanted man, Draco feigned his surprise and asked, "You don't mean Albus Dumbledore, do you? The old coot?"

"Yes," she beamed.

"Why," Draco pretended to admonish. "Doesn't he have any respect towards you, Dolores? Surely, if he had any issue, he should have come to you instead!"

"Precisely my point, Mr. Malfoy!"

"So what will you do to fairly repay his disrespect, Dolores?" Draco asked. "I'm curious to see it!"

He ignored the betrayal in Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's eyes and focused on the pink pig in front of him instead. If he played his cards right, the entire situation could be resolved and Harry could get out of the room unscathed.

"I suppose I must punish him," the pink pig declared. "It would only be fair of me to return the favor."

"I would assume so as well," Draco replied politely. "After all, this must have been quite stressful and humiliating for you, Dolores. It would be fair and respectable of you if you were to return the favor." He paused, pretending to look eager. "May I assist you? I've been subjected to quite a bit of Potter's disrespect as well."

The pink pig agreed.

And that's when Draco dropped the ultimatum.

"However, is it truly necessary for these..." he glanced around the room coolly, "imbeciles be here as well? This matter is only between the three of us, after all."

Umbridge closed her eyes, appearing contemplative before pursing her lips. "Yes. It would be most wise of me to teach him a lesson in front of many witnesses."

Draco raised an eyebrow. 

"Are you sure, Dolores? This unorthodox method of education might be looked down upon when word gets out. Personally, I know my father would not recommend doing this in public. As he always used to say to me, 'the best education must always occur behind closed doors so there will be no people to use our knowledge against us'," Draco said, quoting the father from his childhood.

He thought back wistfully to those days before snapping out of his daydream.

"Lucius is respectable in that sense," Umbridge conceded. "What would you recommend in his stead then, Mr. Malfoy?"

At that, Draco pretended to bow his head sheepishly. "I admit, I am honored you are looking for my advice. However, I think it will be misplaced. I, myself, would like to cause injury to Potter, Dolores. He's caused me quite a bit of pain and struggle over the years as well. We may be friends now, but since he's apparently dragged my name into the mud with his little stunt of his... well, I must say that I feel hurt and betrayed."

"You poor boy," Umbridge sympathized.

Draco simply smiled and proceeded to look up thoughtfully. "But I believe the consequences should not be so dire if it were only I to do so. After all, I have always been considered his rival. A little rough-housing wouldn't catch the attention of Wizengamot."

"So you would like for me to leave this all up to you?"

"Yes," Draco replied confidently.

She studied his facial expression for several seconds. Then, like the absolute idiot she was, she nodded. "Alright. I will leave this up to you then."

Draco grinned inwardly and shot another glance towards Harry, but before he could 'purposefully' yank his boyfriend out of that chair and into safety, the pink pig raised her hand to stop him.

"Yes? What is it?"

"What is it that you are planning?" she asked.

"For him?" Draco returned innocently.

Her ugly, narrowed eyes continued to stare at him.

"Yes, I suppose."

Draco let an easy smirk overcome his features. "Dolores, the less you know, the better. I will tell you this one thing however: Potter will never disrespect either of us again."

At that, she leant back, satisfied.

While she didn't dare to continue questioning him, Draco got rid of the bonds around Harry's hands and feet and yanked him upwards as kindly, yet rudely as he could possibly manage. He shot a nasty glare at Ron and Hermione, who looked confused, and at Harry's other friends in the room. He also gestured towards his Slytherin friends, who were looking incredibly pleased with his display. They moved to grab the rest of those who were in the room unwillingly along with Harry. Then Draco smiled politely at Umbridge and walked out with them all in tow.

Draco purposefully didn't let go of Harry's arm until they were all the way on the other side of the castle and very much close to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Harry, are you alright?" he asked quietly, stopping in his tracks and releasing his hold on Harry. Draco searched into Harry's strangely spaced-out expression and frowned.

"What?" Harry jerked back.

"Are you alright?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Harry replied, sounding strange.

"Harry," Draco began slowly. For a while, he struggled to find the right words to say. "Harry, what's wrong? I doubt you were going to fire-call anyone, especially Dumbledore, if there wasn't anything wrong."

"I thought you knew it was Sirius."

"I do know, but that's not the point I was trying to make."

"Well, what was that?" Harry asked pointedly.

"What was what?"

"You know. In there. Why did you talk and act like that?" Harry asked.

Draco sighed. "Love, I spoke the way I was trained to speak during business negotiations."

"Business negotiations," Ron muttered, disbelief clear.

"Yes, the Malfoys have always been trained to strike business deals that benefit us the most," Draco said. "It's a craft I've been taught to use in dire times such as this."

"So all that flattering..." Hermione began.

"I had to defuse the situation and get all of you out of there without the possibility of her harming you, and in order to do that, I had to pretend to emphasize and be on her side."

Hermione and Ron nodded, although a bit reluctantly. Draco knew they were hesitant to perform any type of manipulation, regardless of whether or not Harry's fate was involved, but he also knew he couldn't focus on explaining himself any further. He was practically itching for answers.

"Now, Harry, tell me what you were doing or at least trying to do. Why were you contacting Sirius through the fireplace when you had the mirror?"

Harry blinked slowly.

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that."

Draco pursed his lips and wondered if it would be proper of him to scream profanities at his boyfriend.

"How did you forget— Harry, why were you contacting him? It's late and it was incredibly risky," Draco huffed. "If it was so urgent for you to forget about the mirror, you do realize you could have used the map to leave Hogwarts and then apparate to the Le Havre safehouse, correct? You're technically the owner now, love."

Harry's cheeks flushed. "I forgot that too."

"Merlin, it's a wonder you manage to remember anything at all," Draco murmured. A few of their friends snickered. "Alright so you forgot about other, more safer methods of contact. Why were you contacting him in the first place, love? What happened? Is he alright??"

"I just needed to," Harry reassured while Ron piped up and said, "Harry had a vision that Sirius was being tortured by Voldemort at the Department of Mysteries during class. He really wanted to go, but Hermione thought it was a trap. So Harry decided he'd use a fireplace to make sure that he was in France."

Draco frowned, disapproving of Harry's will to lie to him. He thought he had enough trust to hear such a terrible thing from Harry himself. Clearly—

No, this had nothing to do with Draco and his trustworthiness.

Harry just didn't want to tell him. For what reason, Draco did not know.

"Ron!"

"What? Mate, he's one of the smartest blokes in school. You should've told him right after you told us."

Draco preened at the compliment.

"He's right, Harry. Why does he seem to be the only one who doesn't know this? He's literally your boyfriend," Pansy reminded, shocking Draco out of his daze.

"Wait, you all knew about this?" Draco watched everyone's face, recognizing guilt and shame when he saw it. It didn't surprise him that Weaslette and Longbottom knew as well, but it did surprise him that Blaise, Theo, and Pansy knew. He then turned to Harry. "Why am I the only one?"

"I... I..."

Harry looked away, ashamed of being caught.

"Is Sirius alright then? Did you manage to check in on him?" Draco asked, barely managing to mask his hurt.

Ron muttered something about how Harry had definitely 'fucked up' behind them. Draco silently agreed.

"No. Remus said Sirius was still outside. Apparently he wanted to take a look around France."

Draco nodded.

Then, he said something he had a feeling Harry was trying to prevent him from saying all along.

"Let's go then. We should get going if we want to make it back for your Diviniation OWLs."

"We?" Harry echoed.

"Yes. I'm going with you," Draco said, turning towards the group. "I'd expect nothing less than all of you going as well."

"No, Draco, you can't go," Harry objected.

Draco rolled his eyes. "With all due respect, love, you couldn't tell me about Sirius apparently being tortured by the Dark Lord himself. I'm not listening to you about this. I'm going."

Harry's face fell. "Are you mad at me about that?"

"Furious."

And it was true. Harry, in all the senses that mattered, betrayed him. He refused to tell Draco something as major as Sirius's safety. He could understand that Harry might have wanted to check if it was a trap by fire-calling his godfather, but it didn't mean it didn't hurt to hear the truth from Ron.

So, yes, he was furious.

However, Draco couldn't be angry right now.

They had more pressing matters to tend to.

"But," he sighed, "what matters right know is Sirius and his safety. So I'll come with you. Merlin knows you might forget what you went there for by the time you arrive."

"Looks like Malfoy's coming then," Weaslette snickered.

Draco looked at her, surprised by the way she easily accepted that he was coming along. Weaslette simply grinned back at him.

"What? You're alright, Malfoy. Probably not the worst bloke to die next to."

"Ginny, I don't think you were supposed to say that," Hermione murmured.

Weaslette— 'Ginny' was apparently her name— had the nerve to look bashful.

"Why? Hermione, you know he, of all people, has the right to know. We might see You-Know-Who for real and it's likely that one of us might die on this thing," she pointedly noted. "It's better to tell him from the start instead of keeping him in the dark and betraying his trust by letting someone else tell him."

'Oh,' Draco thought wickedly when most of their friends looked away, guilty of doing what Weaslette said. 'We're definitely going to get along nicely.'

"Since we're all in agreement," he began, clapping his hands twice, "what are we waiting for? I'll just go grab the enhancement cuffs for everyone really quickly, and then we can go ahead and check in on Sirius."

"Pansy and I'll stay back," Theo added. "We'll have to be here to make sure Code Pink doesn't come snooping around for traces of you all, and if she does, we'll need to be here to steer her off."

Everyone nodded.

Before Draco could move to do as he said, Harry grabbed onto his arm.

"If Voldemort really is... you know, there, and he sees you—"

Draco smiled reassuringly at him. "Don't worry, love. He can't kill all of us at the same time."

Harry frowned, but Draco didn't wait for him to say anything. He simply went up to Harry's room, grabbed the box of silver cuffs that he'd hidden there after Harry distributed the rest to the DA, and handed pairs of the correct affinities to everyone.

Secretly, when no one was watching, he slipped his own on.

When he made sure everyone's were adjusted perfectly, Draco managed a brave facade. The only crack in it was the way he was clutching Harry's left hand tightly, which proved how nervous and terrified he actually felt.

Chapter Text

Draco had no idea how the hell Harry managed to convince him of this, but riding a thestral's back was an excellent form of travelling. It felt quite a bit like he was flying on his broom— but windier and warmer since Harry let him hug his waist.

It was ridiculously romantic considering that they might be on a highly illegal— thanks to the maybe-involvement of a run-away ex-convict, Dark Lord, and torture— rescue mission. On top of that, no one had confirmed that Sirius was being tortured, but Remus had apparently confirmed that he wasn't at the safehouse in France. Harry had tried to reach his godfather through the mirror, but it seemed like Sirius didn't have his own with him.

Now, whether Sirius was being tortured or not, everyone on this rescue mission had the chance of getting tossed into Azkaban.

When his father learned of what he was trying to do, Draco would surely be the first tossed in.

Anxiety and worry claws their way up Draco's throat, and the silver cuffs pulsed with the need to finally expel their power after years of being suppressed. This, of course, made Draco's body tense up even more.

There was no doubt that he feared losing control over his affinity.

His, like Harry's, was one of the hardest to control. Unlike Harry's, it was the most destructive.

After the incident where he nearly blinded a few of the wizarding world's most powerful individuals and nearly erased Joanna Longbottom from the timeline by warping reality, Draco had been condemned to hide his affinity. Everyone who ever saw him display it was obliviated save for close few, and Draco feared what would become of him and those around him if he were to lose control again.

Taking deep breaths and burying his face into Harry's back, Draco tried to calm himself down.

Worst case scenario: he loses control and sends someone into blinding oblivion.

"We're here," he heard Harry announce.

Draco took in one last breath before releasing Harry from his tight embrace and getting off the thestral. He petted the thestral's snout, cringing as the silver cuffs tried to react with the light-classified creature.

"Draco, come on," Ginny hissed.

He snapped out of it and hurried towards her.

"I apologize. I was lost in thought," he admitted.

"It's alright. It must be the nargles," Luna said loftily.

"Or heliopaths," Longbottom added.

Draco blinked, having forgotten that the two had come with them. Luna coming along had been an impromptu thing. Ginny had insisted they brought Luna with them, claiming that his cousin was rather capable in a duel. Draco didn't see it fit to protest since he himself knew how capable she was. He did, however, protest when Longbottom insisted on coming along as well. Harry had to convince him that Longbottom was just as capable before they took flight.

As such, he and Blaise were in company of 6 D.A. members in total: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Longbottom.

"Let's get going then," Hermione urged.

Draco nodded in agreement. He then, before Harry or Ron or anyone as brash as them decided to break down the entrance, successfully granted them access with the knowledge his father had bestowed to him as a child. They made it through the floors without much resistance as it was well beyond working hours, and slipped into each and every room before settling inside the Time Chamber.

Almost instantly, Draco had recognized it.

His mother had told him about glittering objects kept in the Ministry as a bedtime story once, and she'd actually showed him a memory of when she herself had gone in and taken a look.

"We have to keep going. I think we're almost here," Harry whispered.

Draco agreed. "Make sure not to touch anything," he added.

They took another door to the Hall of Prophecies, where the orbs glowed even brighter, and took a left turn before reaching the far side of the hall.

It, like the Ministry of Magic, was empty.

"What? I don't get it," Harry cried out.

Ginny promptly shushed him.

"He's supposed to be here. Sirius was right..."

When Harry's voice trailed off, Draco immediately lurched forwards.

"Harry, don't touch that!" he snapped.

Harry had walked towards a corner of the hall and spotted an orb with his and the Dark Lord's names inscribed on it. He'd bend over to grab it when Draco had finally gained enough ground to pull Harry away from it.

"What are you doing?" he hushed. "If Sirius isn't here, then it's obviously a trap. Stop walking into it!"

"Draco's right," Hermione piped up. "It's a trap, Harry. Let's go back."

"But it's got my name on it. Mine and Voldemort's," Harry replied.

Like a madman, he forced Draco to let go of him and picked it up. Almost immediately, there was a gust of wind. Draco ran towards one of the many great shelves and hid behind it, forgetting to call for the others in his haste. Blaise, however, had been brilliant enough to follow him.

The wind grew stronger as time went on, and black splotches began to appear in the wizard-made tornado. When things had finally settled down, Draco took notice of the twelve Death Eaters who now took his friends hostage. His boyfriend, the grandest idiot in both the muggle and the wizarding world, stood face to face with his father and his aunt.

Draco cursed under his breath, a sound that was thankfully ignored.

"Give me the prophecy, Potter," his father demanded.

"No," Potter snapped back.

"Give it," his father insisted.

"No!"

"Lucius, why don't we just torture it from him and take it?" his aunt Bellatrix asked, her tone sweet and monstrous at the same time.

"We can't. Besides, Potter will hand it over soon enough."

"Will he?"

"You don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix. He's got a great weakness for heroics. The Dark lord understands this about him." His father sent a withering glare towards Harry. "Now give me the prophecy, Potter."

And Harry, like an idiot, responded with, "I know Sirius is here. I know you've got him!"

"It's time you learned the difference between your life and dreams, foolish boy. Now give me the prophecy or we'll start using wands."

It was a weak threat, and everyone in the hall bloody knew it.

"Go on then," Harry dared.

There was a noise of barely concealed frustration. "Hand over the prophecy and no one needs to get hurt."

"Yeah right! I give you this— this prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

Draco glanced towards Blaise, who returned the confounded look. Neither of them knew what Harry was trying to do. Surely, when one realizes it is a trap, one would plot to escape. Harry was doing anything but that.

Draco had a bad feeling about this.

What if this trap had two parts instead of one?

It was obvious that his father was after the prophecy that was in Harry's hands. However, why would his father want a prophecy when he could easily access to the Ministry any day? And, in addition to that, how did it just happen to be Harry's and the Dark Lord's prophecy that Harry picked up? How did such an important prophecy just end up on the floor?

Maybe—

Draco stopped breathing for a good thirty seconds.

Words and spells flew over his head, easily forgotten as his mind zeroed in on a red flag he couldn't believe he'd missed.

The Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord obviously couldn't just walk into the Ministry, and even Draco's father was not entirely trusted with something as great as the prophecy of the Wizarding World's future. As such, he needed someone undetectable— or at least someone who the Ministry would not throw into Azkaban upon sight— to grab both Potter and the prophecy.

And who else but the Boy Who Lived could do the job?

It was a trap written by the books, and Harry had all but fallen into it.

Sirius was never there. Sirius just happened to be Harry's last family member. And he'd become nothing more than a tool the Dark Lord used to manipulate Harry into turning himself and the prophecy in.

Draco felt sick.

"You cover Harry's group," Blaise suddenly whispered. "I've got Ron's group. Get one of them to send a Patronus when the coast is clear."

Draco snapped out of his daze just as the Harry, Hermione, and Longbottom and several other Death Eaters ran through the hallway. Moving as quickly as his legs could carry him, Draco trailed after them. Vince's father and his uncle-by-marriage Rabastian Lestrange made it to the Time Chamber before he did.

By the time he arrived, Harry had shot a stunning spell at Vince's father, rendering him unconscious, and tackled Rabastian before he used avada kedavara on Hermione.

Draco's eyes widened at the sight and his brain worked to find solutions as they fought. However, the short conflict ended incredibly quickly as Vince's father was rendered unconscious and immobile.

"Fortitudo !" Draco cried out impulsively, letting his light magic shoot out of his wand. He gripped his left hand with his right in an attempt to gain better control, and he sighed in relief when Harry, Hermione, and Longbottom looked much healthier and stronger. The healing-slash-energizing spell didn't end up hurting them. Thank Merlin.

"Draco!" Harry sighed, relieved.

"What are you waiting for?" Draco asked in reply.

The four of them ran into an office to the right of the Time Chamber, where Draco came face to face with Antonin Dolohov and Jugson.

"Mini Malfoy?" Antonin called, shocked.

Draco panicked and casted a severing charm. Of course, he didn't realize that the silver cuffs he was wearing intensified the severing charm until Antonin's arm was chopped off cleanly. An ear-piercing scream quickly greeted their ears.

Hermione, as quick as ever, used a silencing charm on Antonin before the screaming could attract other Death Eaters' attention.

"Oh Merlin, I did not mean for that to happen," Draco squeaked. A part of him knew he shouldn't have tried to suppress his light-inclined affinity for so long. The magic must have been forced into a condensed space in Draco's magic core, creating a ticking bomb that Draco must have started. "I simply wanted to stop you from casting spells at Harry, not to stop you from casting forever ! Oh Merlin, what am I going to do?"

Draco awkwardly picked up the bloody arm and tried to give it back to the poor wizard, only realizing halfway that Antonin couldn't take the arm because, well, he had no hand to take it with.

"Draco, what are you doing?" Harry yelled, grabbing him by the arm before Draco could make an apology.

A silver mist led the four of them to Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Blaise in the Brain Room. Ron looked like he was drunk off his arse, Ginny was limping like mad, Luna appeared well, and Blaise appeared a bit shaken.

"Where were you?" Luna asked loftily.

Draco swallowed thickly, still thinking about the wizard he basically rendered a Squib.

"Time Chamber. You?"

"Space Chamber."

Draco stared at her.

If he recalled correctly, there wasn't exactly much of anything in the Space Chamber. It only contained figurines of the planets of the universe and magically enhanced telescopes and kaleidoscopes. It was impressive how they managed to stay hidden from the Death Eaters and escape from the chamber.

Draco and his aloof cousin shared a brief nod before quickly running off to one of the other rooms of the Ministry. Everyone else followed them.

"Blaise!" Draco whispered when he noticed that his facial expression was still blank. He wondered what exactly his best friend saw when he was with Ron, Luna, and Longbottom. "What in Merlin's beard happened?"

Just as he said those words, a hoard of Death Eaters burst through the door and Draco cursed before slinking behind one of the many great pillars of the room. He locked eyes with Harry for a brief moment, who looked rather relaxed for someone whose life and future was being hunt down by a magic madman. Draco could only think that his boyfriend was pleased that he hadn't been seen.

"Well, well, well, Potter," came a drawl.

There was no doubt that it was Draco's aunt Bellatrix who had spoken so nonchalantly and threateningly. Draco still remembered the voice of the woman who used to sit with him in the nursery and sing him lullabies about how the world was simply waiting for him to rise up. That was all before the Ministry found enough evidence to throw her into Azkaban, however, and after that, Draco had never seen a silver of the woman she used to be.

Sometimes, Draco thought about that warm and aloof woman and wondered what had happened to her.

He didn't dare admit it however. Especially not in front of the madwoman who impersonated Draco's aunt.

"I would talk about the prophecy but I suppose it wouldn't be right of me to ignore my dear nephew. His mother has been asking after him after all, and he has been mysteriously absent from several... important gatherings, if you can gather."

Draco stayed hidden behind the pillar.

"Who's your nephew? Sounds like a bit prissy," Harry replied.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"That's my nephew you're talking about, boy."

It was strange how someone could sound like she both cares and doesn't cares at the same time.

Harry didn't respond, simply taking off with their friends and leaving Draco alone with the Death Eaters. Draco tensed when he heard a nasty cackle.

After all, how on earth he was supposed to run after them when he had to get past his aunt and the other Death Eaters without being killed on sight? There was no doubt that his aunt had learned that Draco was somehow close with Harry now, and there was also little to no doubt that Yaxley hadn't told her that it was him who severed his wand arm. If his aunt Bellatrix found him... there was just no telling what she would to him for becoming a traitor to both the Dark Lord and the family.

However, before he could panic any further, his aunt Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters chased Harry and their friends out the room. Their footsteps sounded thunderous even as the noise faded so Draco refused to come out of hiding until he was entirely sure that everyone had left.

Which, by the way, was probably a mistake on his part.

Because once there were no sounds or people to follow, Draco was both alone and lost.

He cursed lowly as he trekked down the empty hallway, trying to recall which direction he'd last heard movement. However, since he'd been hiding and was busy worrying about his aunt finding him, Draco had no way of actually knowing.

He sighed and set about finding them the old fashion way: storming into every room of the hall.

And so, he began his search of his boyfriend, their friends who forgot to signal where the group was going on their way out, his mad aunt, and Death Eaters he was supposed to avoid so he could be a spy for Harry's side of the war over summer.

He sighed again at the reminder.

Merlin, why did he agree to come in the first place?

He grumbled profanities as he pushed each door open, wandering into them briefly and searching for traces of familiar magic signatures. When there was none, he walked out. And when he finally found one, Draco stared blankly at the sign above the door.

"The Death Chamber."

Draco casted a quick spell and rechecked the magical signature that greeted him.

It was definitely Harry's.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter!" Draco cursed at no one in particular.

Draco closed his eyes and pushed the door open, stunned when he saw that his boyfriend and his father were engaged in a duel at the center of the chamber. Death Eaters surrounded them, but none seemed to dare be involved in the duel. Draco's relief only intensified when he saw that Sirius was alive and looking very much un-tortured beside Harry, dueling nothing if not more furiously.

Draco let go of tension he wasn't aware he was holding in his posture. A weak noise escaped him as he began making his way over to them. And that's when his father saw him.

"Draco," his father called out in a hoarse voice.

The duel ceased— his father staring at him blankly, a question clear in his eyes, his boyfriend telling him to go away with his eyes, and Sirius looking at him like he was mad for coming into the room— and Draco swallowed thickly as he returned his father's gaze.

He slowly approached them, understanding that his father wouldn't punish him unless he gave his father a reason to do so.

Draco still gave his father a reason to.

He'd seen a red light racing towards Sirius, and he'd somehow been close enough to be able to knock Sirius aside before it hit him.

"Nephew!" his aunt teased cruelly. Beside her was one vulnerable-looking Longbottom.

Draco cursed under his breath, holding his wand tightly as he stood to face his two relatives. Some part of him acknowledged how messed up it was that he'd been resentful that his father and his aunt hadn't tried to crucio him while he was on the floor.

"Father. Aunt Bellatrix," he replied.

"What are you doing, son?" his father asked, enraged when it dawned on him that Draco was not on his side, but Harry's.

Draco said nothing in reply to his father, raising his wand against his aunt. "Let go of Longbottom."

"Can't do that, dearie— oh Lucius, let me handle this," she snapped when Lucius made movements to raise his wand as well. Then his aunt smiled with teeth. "I need the prophecy and Potter, nephew. I'll let poor Longbottom go in exchange for the prophecy."

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"And what about Harry?"

His father made a choking noise, his gaze murderous. Draco chose not to focus on that however.

Bellatrix fiddled with her wand. "No promises about him."

"You haven't made any promises to me since I was five, and when you did, you promised to never leave me," Draco said, hating how honest and vulnerable he was making himself. "But then you had to go and happily admit your loyalty to— to the Dark Lord and get yourself thrown into Azkaban!"

For a split moment, Draco thought he brought his childhood aunt back. Her eyes softened, and her smile transformed into one that was familial-like.

"If I promise to never leave you now, would you give little Potter to me?"

"No," Draco replied without hesitation.

"Aw," Bellatrix cooed, "wee little Draco's still hurt by that thing all those years ago."

Draco grit his teeth.

She knew how lonely the manor could be. More often than not, his father had to leave for the Ministry and his mother dived headfirst into throwing political parties and making allies. The only times Draco wasn't alone were when Blaise came over or when his... less mad aunt accompanied him. And when Draco lost one of those people...

His refusal had nothing to do with his hurt.

"Let Longbottom go, aunt Bellatrix," Draco demanded again.

His aunt simply smiled with her teeth again and began firing hexes.

Draco barely managed to set up a protective charm over him, Harry, and Sirius quickly enough, firing spells with quick succession. He barely noticed when his father began joining the duel since his father and his aunt both adapted and took turns in a civilized, pureblood way, allowing him to adapt and deal with the two of them as well. He did, however, notice Harry's and Sirius's joining in on the duel.

They worked incredibly well together, and it was no surprise that their casting quickly changed the tides of the duel.

At one point, Draco and Sirius casted a stunning spell at his aunt Bellatrix at the same time, thoroughly rendering her immobile. His father was shot down by a sharp expelliarmus (thanks to their one-spell-only Golden Boy). They quickly moved to free Longbottom and searched for the rest of their friends.

"Oh! There you are!" Hermione huffed. She stormed over and wrapped Harry into a tight hug. "Don't you ever run off again, Harry Potter! You worried us sick!"

While Hermione thoroughly grilled Harry, Draco wandered over to Blaise. "What has happened?"

"You-Know-Who..." Blaise began. "It's a trap. He's coming. He's coming for Harry."

Draco nodded. "I know. Let's get him back to Hogwarts. Harry will be safer there."

He paused.

"Is that why you looked so blank earlier? Because you figured it out?"

"Yes."

"Alright," Draco conceded.

The group quickly began running from the Death Chamber. On their way out, they were greeted by Remus, Draco's cousin Nymphadora, Professor Moody, and several other people. Draco had half the mind to hex Harry when he casually handed the prophecy over to them, but Harry tugged him away before he could actually do any damage.

Everyone except he and Harry were sitting on the backs of the thestrals when the alarm suddenly sounded.

And Draco felt more than saw the drastic increase of... of negative pressure. It reminded him of how he'd gone to the Manor several months before and saw the Dark Lord for the first time. The pressure was much heavier now than back then, which meant the Dark Lord became stronger since then.

Draco cursed, his shoulders tensing even more when he and Harry decided to part from the rest of the group and slide into another, much more dark room. Harry pushed him against the wall, pressing his pointer finger against his own lips. Draco nodded, but still gripped his wand tightly.

He kept his eyes on the door, glancing towards Harry when it slowly creaked open. Harry grimaced then signaled for Draco to stay hidden from the Dark Lord's view. Draco opened his mouth to argue, but then he realized that the Dark Lord would literally use him to get to Harry just like how he tried to use the 'Sirius is being tortured' ruse to lure Harry there.

Before Draco could agree to stay behind, Harry shot out from their hiding spot.

"What an idiot," he mouthed silently.

But he couldn't do anything more than watch as his boyfriend approached the Dark Lord with nothing more than enhancers slapped on his wrists and a stick in his skinny hand. Draco resolved to order more armor from Alois for Harry if he survived this.

When, Draco corrected himself.

Draco refocused on the scene just as a large statue plummeted to the ground. Draco jumped.

Dumbledore had somehow snuck into the same room he and Harry had snuck in and found a good moment to strike. Dumbledore and the Dark Lord then began to have an epic duel— Draco was secretly pleased that he had front-row seats to such a one-in-a-lifetime duel— as Harry watched on with disinterest. Instead, Harry was looking at him, his eyes asking if Draco was alright.

Draco managed a smile, though he wasn't sure if Harry could see him from where he was safely hidden behind a large statue.

Then he turned his attention back to the legendary duel occurring right in front of him. While he'd been occupied with Harry, it became obvious to him that Dumbledore was much stronger than the Dark Lord was. There was no way to actually describe it, but the way that Dumbledore was calmly countering while the Dark Lord was furiously cursing at him just screamed superiority.

And then—

And then the Dark Lord vanished into thin air. No, not vanished. He was still there. He'd cloaked himself with invisibility, and sneaked behind Harry. The idiot, of course, was oblivious. He kept looking around for the Dark Lord, not exactly realizing that the Dark Lord was right behind him.

Draco's mouth opened to scream a warming, but Harry's ear-shattering one happened first.

He casted a quick spell to see what had happened, paling when he realized the Dark Lord entered Harry's mind in an attempt to possess him.

Although a part of him shouted reminders that Harry was in immense pain, another part of him realized the Dark Lord was weak without a corporeal form. That part of him realized Dumbledore, if he really wanted to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all, would have to kill Harry.

Draco's blood turned to ice.

Not because he thought about Harry dying for what Dumbledore might consider 'the greater good,' but because the writhing thing on the floor was Harry.

It was Harry.

His sweet, thoughtful, strong, beautiful Harry.

The Dark Lord— Voldemort was violating his beautiful Harry to the point where Harry was sobbing and screaming on the floor. It was already almost too much. But the very prospect of Dumbledore killing his boyfriend right then and there... no.

No one, especially Harry Potter, deserved to go through so much pain and just die. Greater good or not be damned.

Draco's shoulders shook as he struggled to control the hatred swelling up inside him, and his face contorted meanly as he stormed over and practically yanked Voldemort out of Harry's mind with a flick of the wand. In a mere instant, Voldemort was back in his own body and just as Voldemort regained his bearings, Draco stared him down and let him realize just who was about to damn him. Then, before Voldemort could even speak, Draco raised his wand again.

"Finem," he commanded, his voice like thunder clapping on a desolate mountain.

Voldemort vanished with an audible click. Only a single part of him remained in the room. The head.

It was sliced off.

Clean.

Shock stopped Draco from registering that he'd lost control of his magic and brutally murdered Voldemort. He didn't even know how he did it, but there was a slight tingle in his hand that reminded him of the time he nearly erased someone from the timeline. He probably succeeded this time around, though it wasn't a hundred percent done thing. The head remained after all.

Even when he knew how he'd done it, Draco was unable to react in any other way than just staring. He watched as blood spurted out of the severed head, which dropped to the ground with a satisfying sound, and the eyes of the man who once caused him so much terror rolled back into the severed head.

This, of course, was of little importance to him.

His anger was not quelled by the death of Voldemort. The man had, after all, schemed to lure Harry to the Ministry, threatened to torture his friends, and violated Harry's mind so badly, he had resembled a dying fish out of water.

No punishment but death would ever be enough for the bastard. He'd deserved no respect in life, and he would have none in death. 

And so, Draco kicked Voldemort's head as hard as he could, summoning hellfire using the heat particles created by light and lighting it aflame just as it knocked against the far wall.

Then, barely waiting a moment to revel in Voldemort's most definitely final death, Draco turned his attention to Dumbledore. He raised his wand against him.

"Don't. You. Dare," he snarled.

'Harry, Harry, Harry,'  his mind chanted. 'He's a threat to Harry right now.'

Dumbledore smiled and dropped his wand. He looked awfully at peace with the fact that Draco had just murdered someone right in front of him.

"I wasn't going to do anything, Draco," the old man assured.

"Dumbledore? Draco?" Harry's voice called out weakly.

Draco rushed over, dropping onto his knees and cradling Harry's face with his hands. He pulled Harry onto his lap, brushing the thick, dark hair out of Harry's eyes.

"Harry, I'm here," Draco said. "I'm here."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the faint, yet clear smile on Harry's face. The anger disappeared as the world faded to nothing more than the two of them. Even Dumbledore, who Draco had thought had been a threat moments prior, faded into the background.

"Harry," he said like it was his last time having his Harry hear it. "Harry, I love you."

"Love ya too," Harry replied. His gorgeous eyes glanced around their surroundings. "Wha' happened? Where's Voldemort?"

Draco shrugged.

He knew where the head was, but doubted Harry wanted to know.

One thing he did hope Harry knew was that Voldemort was never, ever going to come near him again. Draco made damn sure of that.

"Don't ever do that again, love," Draco shushed. referring to how he ran off and tried to face Voldemort on his own.

He didn't know if Harry understood what he'd said, but his boyfriend nodded. His eyes wandered over Draco's shoulder.

"Is that Voldemort?"

"Yes."

Harry stared at him blankly. "Wait. Draco, you... him...?"

Draco tossed a look at the burning head. "I sure hope so."

If fire wasn't enough to kill the slimy, vile creature, Draco was prepared to call upon Harry's army of shadow warriors (he, of course, would have to ask Harry to conjure one first) and get them all to drag Voldemort down to the very depths of hell. Let the bastard rot there.

"Draco, what did you just do?" Harry whispered. "Oh fuck, you shouldn't have done that. You're going to get in so much trouble."

Draco didn't care.

The only thing important to him at that very moment was Harry and his well-being. Besides, he technically just saved the Ministry both the embarrassment and the trouble by getting rid of Voldemort. If he got into trouble, Draco would simply sue them. Or even better, ask one of the Malfoy's best necromancer business clients to bring Voldemort back to life. Let the Ministry deal with the bastard while he and Harry take a very much needed vacation.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Draco ran a finger across Harry's scar, kissing his temple lightly.

There was a part of him that still worried because he didn't know just how much damage Voldemort had caused by forcing his way into Harry's mind. He just knew they should have focused on Harry's Occlumency lessons rather than deciding to pay attention to them after OWLs.

"Doesn't hurt anymore?"

"I'm alright," Harry assured, his eyes still looking to Voldemort's head.

Draco nodded.

"No flowers?" he joked.

'Are you really alright'? he really asked.

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled fondly. "No narcissuses is that's what you really want to know."

'Yes, you arse. I'm not lying.'

Draco smiled back. "Good."

But, instead of giving Harry space like he probably should have, Draco continued to hold on to him tightly and whispered sweet nothings until the Minister of Magic arrived, saw them beside the burning head of Voldemort, and promptly ordered his arrest.

Chapter Text

Draco was in the holding cell for no more than five hours when he heard his father had been imprisoned in Azkaban. He was there for no more than ten when he heard Sirius had been imprisoned as well. He didn't get to hear any more shocking news at the next five-hour interval, however, because he was ordered to be released by Head Auror Shacklebolt.

Draco didn't know what to do with the terms of his release. He'd mindlessly accepted them as the Head Auror himself escorted him out of the Ministry, only to realize what he'd accepted when he stepped onto Hogwarts grounds.

He couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief as he recalled the conversation again.

"Malfoy," someone called.

Draco looked up wearily, still chewing his bottom lip as he worried if Harry had been let off the hook for sneaking into the Ministry. When he saw the Head Auror approach him, Draco didn't know what to do so he simply sat up a bit straighter against the wall. They stared at each other motionlessly, eyes judging the person that stared back at them.

"My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt," the Head Auror began. He paused and took another moment to watch Draco carefully. Draco returned the gaze just as warily. "I think you already figured it out, but I'm the Head of the Auror Department. Something you may not have figured out is that I am a member of the Order of Pheonix. The Order is an organization that had been founded to defeat You-Know-Who during the First Wizarding War."

Draco nodded mindlessly, choosing to think of Harry again instead of listening to whatever the Auror wanted him to listen to.

"The organization had been re-established in preparation for the Second Wizarding War, but it seems the Order can no longer serve its original purpose now that he is gone." Shacklebolt paused. "Thanks to you."

There was another pause before Shacklebolt spoke again.

"The Ministry is still confused as to how you had done it by the way. The magic you emitted was purely accidental, but the spell was neither light or dark magic. At least, not in simple terms. My team and I, along with cursebreakers from the DMLE, investigated the magic residue and we have determined that the magic used was of our world's basic elements."

Draco nodded, not knowing that he was doing it until his head stopped moving.

Shacklebolt smiled thinly. "Thank you for your cooperation. Now that mystery has been solved, I must speak to you concerning another matter. In truth, the Order of the Pheonix still has to exist. Hogwarts' headmaster, Albus, gave information concerning horcruxes. Do you know what those are?"

Draco frowned.

"I'm taking that as a no. Horcruxes are receptacles prepared by dark magic in which a Dark wizard has intentionally hidden fragments of his soul for the purpose of attaining immortality," Shacklebolt explained, sounding both formal and informational at the same time. "Albus had said that You-Know-Who was interested in immortality, and created horcruxes of his own. As such, You-Know-Who can still be considered alive."

Draco looked up at him. "What?"

He was more than absolutely sure that he'd killed Voldemort. After all, not only had he cut the head off cleanly, but he also cursed it with hellfire. No living thing, immortal-seeking or not, could possibly be alive. If there was, Draco wouldn't have stopped at just that. He would have made it so Voldemort never saw enough light of the day to even consider coming close to Harry ever again.

"It's important for us to destroy these horcruxes in order to ensure that he will never be resurrected again," Shacklebolt continued. "And for us to do that, Harry Potter has said we must include you. He believes this will attract attention and support from dark magic inclined families such as the Malfoys, Blacks, Parkinsons, Notts, Zabinis, and so on. He also believes this will unite the Wizarding World and prevent future wars."

Draco stared at him, not believing and believing him at the same time.

If what he said about Voldemort making horcruxes true... well, Draco wasn't going to be taking chances either way.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "If you decide to aid the Order, Malfoy, you will need to adhere to the following terms: no unforgivables, swear loyalty to the Order, and Potter will personally escort you everywhere from now on."

"I consider it."

Which lead him to where it all began: Hogwarts.

Shacklebolt had told him he would search for horcruxes with Harry and the Order over summer, which meant Draco had to deal with his friends being pissed and overprotective of him for a whopping week and a half before returning to a Death-Eater-free manor. Although he was thankful he was even let out of the holding cell, Draco couldn't help but wish he'd been given a bit more time to prepare for Hogwarts.

He shuddered and continued walking alongside Shacklebolt.

"Oh, and Malfoy?" Shacklebolt called as they approached the headmaster's office. "I forgot to mention that Dolores Umbridge is no longer the headmistress. Dumbledore has been returned to his position as the headmaster of Hogwarts."

Draco's jaw dropped. "What?"

He was surprised at how quickly Dumbledore had returned. He thought it would have been much longer than 16 hours for the Wizengamot to let him. After all, they were all too quick to establish Umbridge as the headmistress in the beginning of the school year.

Without further warning, the door to the office was opened.

"Mr. Mal—"

"Draco!"

Before he could brace himself for impact, he was greeted with an armful of Harry Potter. He'd shot up from his chair and launched himself at Draco upon seeing him, and as he was let go, Draco noticed that Harry appeared torn between smacking and kissing him. He settled for stepping back and yelling though.

"What took you so long?" he demanded, glancing at Shacklebolt with hints of annoyance and anxiousness. Emerald eyes blazing and hair appearing like a dirty mop, Harry looked both adorable and fearsome. Draco refrained from kissing him however. They were, after all, with company. "We've been here for hours !"

"A mere thirty minutes," Dumbledore corrected politely. He sent a pointed smile at Draco, welcoming him into the office and gesturing towards a chair beside where Harry had sat previously.

Draco warily took it; Harry trailed behind him.

"Hello," Draco greeted.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. I assume that Kingsley has already informed you of the news?"

"Yes."

"Very well." Dumbledore stood from his seat, walking towards the phoenix Draco finally noticed, and folded his hands behind his back the same way Draco's dead grandfather used to. He then remembered that Dumbledore was rather ancient; he had been Abraxas Malfoy's teacher after all. "Then I assume you agree to the terms?"

"Could I even say no to them?" Draco asked in reply.

"... No."

Draco shrugged.

Well.

It wasn't like he had that many objections to the terms of his release from the Ministry holding cells. The only one he really had a problem with was the bit about swearing his loyalty to the Order of whatever-the-hell-Shacklebolt-said-next. The only person he was loyal to in the room was Harry, and Harry seemed confused by whatever they were talking about.

"What terms?" Harry asked, confirming Draco's suspicions.

"If I may ask, who will I be collaborating with over summer? Surely, you wouldn't want Harry and I to be separate from everyone else within the Order."

"You will be working with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black," Dumbledore said. "You should be comfortable with working with them."

Draco narrowed his eyes, but nodded. "Who else is in the Order alongside you, Sirius, and Remus?"

"That, I'm afraid, is sensitive information," Dumbledore answered. "However, I can inform you that those who are in the Order are people you can and should trust. They are all capable individuals who have a deep respect for those who decide to swear allegiance to the cause and—"

"Technically, I haven't sworn allegiance."

Dumbledore finally shut up.

"So you won't?" Shacklebolt inquired politely. He pulled out his wand, clearly threatening him and inadvertently informing him that Draco either had to comply or be sent back to the holding cell.

Draco huffed.

In all honesty, swearing his loyalty to the Order wouldn't be so bad. He had some people he knew he could trust over summer: Harry, Remus, and Sirius. They would be together a lot of course, and he'd get to join in on the 'great Potter adventures' Draco had secretly fantasized about doing. He'd be incredibly happy the whole time despite searching for these hell-cruxes that Voldemort made. Plus, he wouldn't be at risk with the Ministry. All in all, it would be a good decision.

However, if he were to be seen working with the Order, regardless of whether or not it was his own self on the line, Draco could be putting the people he loved in danger. Especially if they hadn't said anything about whether or not they supported this... this anti-Voldemort league of Dumbledore's.

Draco knew that Pansy, Blaise, and Theo didn't like Dumbledore because of how he'd been stealing Slytherin's House Cups and practically gift-wrapping them for Gryffindor.

He knew that his mother didn't like Dumbledore because he'd manipulated her into taking one of his calming cough drops in her fifth year.

He also knew that Severus had a distaste for Dumbledore because the wizard could be shady as fuck whenever he wanted to be.

He didn't know anything about how Ron and Hermione might feel about Dumbledore, but he had a very distinct feeling that he wouldn't want to get them involved if the risk of any danger was possible.

For them, Draco feared what it meant if he agreed.

For all he knew, other pureblood families could take this as an invitation for retribution. Retribution he'd be too busy to receive, of course. As such, their acts of revenge could be turned to those he'd also be too busy to protect. To those he loved and trusted the most.

In the worst case scenario, their safety could be jeopardized because of their relationships with Draco if he agreed to support Dumbledore's little justice league.

Actually, Draco didn't know if he even supported the Order.

It had nothing to do with the Order itself and everything to do with Dumbledore's relation to the organization.

He'd compared Dumbledore to Voldemort in his mind on the way to the Ministry the day before. While Voldemort was inherently evil, he had done so without being deceitful and tricking others into thinking he was doing what he was doing for the greater good. He'd been honest in his motivations to get rid of all muggles and muggleborns, and he'd been ruthless in a straight-forward manner. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was a sneaky, manipulative bastard who most likely knew about the abuse Harry endured in the past and did nothing. He also probably had something to do with all the bad things that kept happening to Harry. Draco had no idea what his goal was back then or now, and he also doesn't quite know the headmaster as well as he knew Voldemort. However, he does know that the headmaster really looked like he considered letting Harry die the day before.

And for that, Draco didn't know which person he disliked more.

"I'm still considering it," Draco finally decided to say. He swallowed thickly before confessing, "I simply do not know enough information about the Order to able to swear allegiance to the organization. There is also no guarantee that everyone I— everyone I appreciate will be safe if I agree. Apparently, I will be with Harry the entire summer. Families seeking vengeance for my— for a lack of better words— my 'betrayal' could decide to take it out on those closest to me. At the moment, I am leaning towards not agreeing with this condition of my release from the holding cell. I would rather stay there until my mother set up a lawyer that could get me out before summer and protect my chosen family for as long as I can."

Upon hearing his perspective, Shacklebolt calmed. He put away his wand and smiled tight-lippedly.

"Understandable concerns," Shacklebolt noted. "The Order cannot offer protection to your family. The Order was created to battle You-Know-Who's forces during the First War. Because many of the families who had people joining the Order joined the organization themselves, there was no need for safety measures to be taken."

Draco frowned.

"Not like there should be," Harry suddenly piped up.

Draco whirled around, hoping the manic look in his boyfriend's eyes betrayed what his words had sounded like.

"I mean—" for this, he lowered his volume until it was just the two of them who could hear— "we've got the Le Havre manor, don't we? There are a lot of rooms, right?"

"Oh."

For some reason, it was surprising to hear Harry mention it so casually and easily. At the same time, it was nice to hear his voice and to hear a solution to his concerns for his family.

"You're right," Draco muttered back.

Then he straightened his posture and glanced at Shacklebolt, who was observing them quietly.

"Are there any other concerns for the terms, Malfoy?"

"No," Draco replied confidently.

There were only three terms of the deal anyway: Harry, no unforgivables, and the Order thing.

There was no way he could complain about Harry because he was his boyfriend and it was rather fun to be with him, and there was no way to complain about the lack of unforgivables part either since that was just common sense.

"Well then. I think we're done here," Shacklebolt said, clearing his throat. He nodded pointedly at Dumbledore before nodding at Draco and Harry. "I've done my business here."

As Shacklebolt left the office, Draco stood himself, falling back into his chair when Harry tugged his sleeve. "What?"

"Can we go?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

Draco pursed his lips, forgetting that the old man was technically in charge of him at the moment. He did not want to listen to a lecture. But then he remembered Pansy and how pissed she may be with him for 1) putting everyone else on animals nobody can see— a thestral obviously— and expecting them to get back to Hogwarts without much trouble, 2) getting apprehended by the Aurors, and 3) murder.

'Wait, did I even murder him? Doesn't murder have to have... what is it called again? 'Intent?' Without intent, I think the term is manslaughter or homicide or something like that,'  Draco wondered.

Doesn't mean "manslaughter" sounded any better or anything, but it didn't change the fact that Draco had gotten rid of Voldemort. It didn't change the fact that Pansy would be mildly pissed at him for doing it either. Not because he'd gotten rid of Voldemort, but because she had to find out from various sources other than him.

Draco suddenly prayed Dumbledore had a marvelous speech planned for him.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered Harry's question dismissively.

In despair and fearful of Pansy, Draco's heart dropped from his chest. "That's all?"

Harry shot him a curious look. "What?"

"I mean," Draco continued with a single cough, "aren't you angry? With what I did back at the Department of Mysteries?"

He shivered, his mind deciding that this would be the perfect moment to remember the exact way he'd gotten rid of Voldemort. There was no way that he wasn't going to have nightmares afterwards.

"Why would I be angry?" Dumbledore inquired, his eyes twinkling. "If anything, I am grateful for what you have done, Draco."

"Grateful?"

"Yes. You have ensured the safety of a priceless prophecy and stopped Tom from causing irreversible damage to Harry's mind."

Draco stared at him.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Harry muttered.

Suddenly, it was important for Draco to make him understand that Draco would do it a thousand times over if it meant Harry was safe.

"Of course," Draco replied, hoping it conveyed just that.

Voldemort, if he could do anything about it, was never going to get near Harry ever again. No one who even thought about harming Harry was going to get near him again.

"So I would rather you get to resting and catching up with your friends. I'm sure they miss you," Dumbledore continued. "Luckily, you have no more OWL exams to take this year so you could get a lot of rest. I'm sure you're exhausted."

Harry laced their fingers together as soon as they were outside, smiling weakly but happily.

"Dorms?" he asked.

"Of course," Draco replied easily.

"Guess you're going to be helping us out over summer?" he asked.

Without hesitation, Draco said, "Yes. Of course."

"What are we going to do with everyone then? I mean, your mom, Pansy, Blaise, and all the others. If we have to go somewhere far away from them and people wanna, y'know..."

"Hurt them?" Draco finished. "I think your idea is a good solution, love. But, do you truly not mind? Le Havre is supposed to be your safe space. A place away from your muggles and school."

Harry snorted. "In case you didn't notice, that house is way too big for one person. Besides, it can be our safe place. Not just mine." A pause. "God, that was cringey wasn't it?"

Draco laughed. "Yes. Yes, it was."

Harry smiled, laughing himself until they settled into comfortable silence.

"You know," Draco began conversationally several minutes later, "what do you think the prophecy is about? It had your name on it, didn't it?"

Harry's face did this curious thing where his eyes sparkled but his lips curved downwards. "Dumbledore said it had something to do with how and why Voldemort wanted to hurt me. Since he's not around anymore, Dumbledore doesn't really know if there is any more information on it that could be helpful for us."

Squeezing their fingers lightly, Draco smiled. "We can take a look for ourselves. That is, if our friends don't kill us first."

Tension from Harry disappeared. "Wanna bet how angry they are?"

"I bet they're going to be angry enough to consider locking us out of the dorms," Draco said, humming thoughtfully. "Though, we could always sleep under the stars on the Astronomy Tower."

Harry's eyes softened, suddenly appearing as though he was remembering somethin from a long time ago.

"Yeah. Did you know that the Astronomy Tower is where I first realized I loved you?" Harry asked. Though Draco was shocked, his reaction was not as severe as Harry, whose eyes widened and looked as though he was one word away from letting go of Draco's hand. "I mean, not that I didn't already know that I loved you. It's just where I first coughed some narcissus flowers."

"Oh." Draco thought back to when he realized he was in love with Harry, flushing slightly when he remembered that he'd had a panic attack not even a few seconds later. "If it makes you feel better, our walk together in France is when I realized it was you."

"Wait. Was that when you kept thinking someone was following you?"

"Yes. You'd helped me with my panicking and I realized it then."

Harry said nothing for a rather long time. "How did you stop? I mean, you sounded like you knew what you were doing."

"Severus and the Amorentia potion," Draco summarized. "It took a rather embarrassing amount of time for me to get my head out of my arse to see it. After that, it was just the matter of how I could tell you without embarrassing myself."

"I don't think you're capable of that," Harry said with a frown. "Me, on the other hand..."

Draco snorted. "You don't remember me climbing up a bloody tree last year, love? Are you serious? Slytherin practically made fun of me for two weeks because of it. Pansy orchestrated the re-enactment of our encounter."

Because he was a little shit who knew exactly what Draco was talking about, Harry grinned. "Hmm... now that I think about it, I can think of some moments where you embarrassed yourself."

Draco huffed. "You're such a prat. I hope to Merlin that Hermione will grill you a new one."

"Pretty sure she's going to hurt both of us," Harry replied, stopping dead in his tracks just seconds later.

Draco tugged Harry's hand in hopes of encouraging him to keep going. "What on earth are you stopping for? I thought you wanted to go to the dormitories?"

Harry said nothing.

It was peculiar. How Harry quieted all of a sudden, that is.

Draco heightened his guards and raised his wand with his left hand, his limbs remembering before his mind how identical this peculiarity was to when Harry had quieted in that room in the Department of Mysteries the day prior to his return. A part of him expected Voldemort to come waltzing into the hallway and launch yet another attack at Harry even though a much larger part of him understood that Voldemort couldn't physically come back to hurt them.

And that's when Draco heard it.

Two pairs of footsteps all heading in their direction at a quick pace.

Draco panicked.

It was either his crazy friends with rage in their veins at the moment, or it was a team of the Death Eaters that escaped yesterday.

Either way, he and Harry were screwed.

And when Pansy and Hermione's faces came into his view, Draco knew that they were definitely screwed. As in: 'no apples and no Harry for a week' screwed.

"Draco Lucius Abraxas Motherfucking Malfoy!" Pansy screeched.

Draco winced. "Hi."

"Hi?! You pull a disappearing act on me— on them— for no reason whatsoever, somehow murder the Dark Lord, and get arrested all in 24 hours! You don't get to just say 'hi' like you did something wrong!"

Beside him, Harry was treated in a very similar manner. Except, he didn't even get to say a greeting before Hermione launched on a furious rampage.

"Hello then?"

"I swear, Draco, it's like you're trying to give me a heart attack! Do you know how worried I was when I saw Blaise and Hermione and everyone else come back without you? Without a single hint as to what you could have possibly wanted by staying behind? Instead, all I had to go off of was a stupid glowing ball that gave me absolutely no information about your whereabouts! You could have been kidnapped! You could have been murdered!"

"Look, Pans," Draco began warily. "Harry and I noticed that there was something wrong with our surroundings and went around to try and figure it out. By the time we came back, the thestrals were gone."

Pansy sent him a nasty bitch face.

"If you try and lie to me in my face again, I will castrate you. This isn't funny, Draco," she snapped. "Imagine how I felt when I heard that you weren't with them! When I heard that they didn't know where you were, what happened to you, or what was going to happen to you. Then, four hours later, I receive a message from Hermione saying that she just got back from an encounter with Dumbledore, who saw you get arrested for murdering the You-Know-Who!"

Draco pouted. "Look, I would have told you myself, but I was in a holding cell at the Ministry so..."

Pansy's scowl worsened impossibly. "You could have been cornered by acromantulas for all I care. You ever do that again, I will hide all green apples from your sight and I will make sure that Harry does not go within 15 feet of you for a week! On top of that, I will steal all your chocolate that Narcissa sends for the next two owls and deliberately eat them with Theo and Blaise without you. I'll also demand Montague to not give you any sweets no matter how much you weep and beg and sob on his shoulder. PUnderstand?"

Thoroughly scolded and afraid for all the things (and person) she mentioned in her little tirade, Draco nodded sheepishly.

"Now what are you going to say to me?"

"I apologize."

Pansy huffed. "And you should beg me for mercy too. Honestly! The gall of this arrogant idiot!"

Beside her, Hermione looked just about done with her rant as well. However, Harry wasn't making it easier on himself by defending himself against every jab.

"I think I might die from a Harry headache if you don't stop putting yourself in danger," Hermione sighed.

"I didn't put myself into danger," Harry retorted. "I put myself into hiding and danger came and imposed itself on me."

Draco made a mental note to search up what "impose" meant.

"Either way, you got yourself into trouble and I think I need to start doing what Pansy does in order to keep Draco out of trouble."

"And that is?"

"Restrictions! So from now until Friday, no Quidditch and no treacle tarts."

"Mione, there are no more Quidditch practices for the rest of the year, remember?"

'Harry, you are a fool,' Draco thought when Hermione's nostrils flared..

"Fine then. No Ron, no Draco, and no treacle tart."

That had Harry straightening his back. "What do you mean no Ron? And no Draco? But Mione—"

"No buts!" Hermione fumed.

"Now, now," Pansy interrupted sweetly. "We've worked too hard for them to break up now."

Draco paled. "Break... up?"

He lurched forwards and grabbed Harry's hand. "I'm not— oh no."

Pansy, the bint, rolled her eyes. "Relax. I was just going to say that you, Hermione, don't need to take things away from him."

Hermione scoffed and folded his arms. "If I don't, he'll just do this again."

"Not if you threaten him."

Hermione looked up, pondering Pansy's terrifying words thoughtfully. "Agreed."

Draco briefly regretted being friends with both of witches. They were terrifying in a— dare he say it— motherly way and undoubtedly knew enough spells to make his life an utter hell like his mother was sure to do in the nearby future. But then an overwhelming feeling of appreciation for their concern and their love yanked at his heart strings. In a good way, of course.

"This year..." Draco began quietly. Hermione and Pansy, who had been engaged in a conversation Draco wasn't listening to, looked up. Harry turned to him with curiosity in his eyes. "There's been a lot of changes this year."

They all looked at him as though he lost his mind, and Draco quickly scrambled to explain himself.

"I mean, I certainly wouldn't have believed myself if I went back in time and told the me from the beginning of the school year that I was going to be cured of Hanahaki, gained a boyfriend, and used accidental magic to murder Voldemort. It would have been rather... I think it would have been rather far-fetched for me."

Pansy smirked. "I bet you wouldn't have thought that it was possible for all of us to become friends too."

"Of course not," Draco replied, chuckling.

"I wouldn't have thought that I'd come out as a bisexual this year either," Harry added. Then his eyes widened. "Wait, did I just come out to you? I don't think I've ever come out to you before."

Pursing his lips, Draco wondered why his boyfriend was capable of being a dunderhead sometimes. "Harry, we're dating."

"Right. But I still forgot to tell you I was bi."

Draco sighed. "I'm gay."

"I'm pans," Pansy said, "which is kinda funny since it's also my name."

"And I'm straight," Hermione said.

Harry smiled at them. "Thanks for coming out."

"What comes next?" Draco mused, searching his own mind for anything he may have forgotten to explicitly state to Harry and his two terrifying friends.

Pansy and Hermione raised their eyebrows, deciding to let Draco answer the question himself. The two girls waved dismissively— quite rudely, if Draco may add— returning to their conversation about methods of intimidation. 

Draco was just about to sigh when Harry tightened his grip around Draco's hand.

"Draco, I— I don't know if the past me would have believed that I got the chance to get to know you and learn to like you, but I do know that I can't imagine us any differently now."

Draco didn't know what to say. So instead, Draco smiled and leant forwards to press a kiss to Harry's lips.

"Me neither."

They both stood silently in the hallway as Pansy and Hermione faded into the background, simply living— simply loving without a care for the world— in the moment the way Draco had been terrified of doing when he'd had Hanahki.

This year's problems were up and over with. Their cases of Hanahaki were cured. Voldemort was gone (albeit temporarily).

For now, it was just them. And it was enough.

'What comes next' can wait.

Chapter Text

Part I

When school ended in June, everyone left to France.

Pansy and Theo, having gotten together while everyone else snuck into the Department of Mysteries, were the first people to agree to stay in the Le Havre safe house after hearing the plan. Hermione, Ron, Blaise, and (surprisingly) Vince and Greg offered to join the Order and help them finish the whole Voldemort ordeal, but Draco and Harry refused. After all, that was how Harry's parents had died.

Their guardians— especially Narcissa Malfoy and the Granger parents— were a bit hesitant about moving. First and foremost, Malfoy Manor was Draco's mother's home. The homey atmosphere had been destroyed when Voldemort strolled in like an unsuspecting disease, but she was still hellbent on keeping it her home. However, when Draco told her about how if Voldemort came back, he would go after the two of them first, Narcissa packed all their belongings and moved into the safehouse within a week.

Hermione's parents were also hesitant, but it was mainly because they didn't understand what was going on and Hermione didn't know how to explain horcruxes and immortality to them.

Everyone moved in swiftly however, and soon it became evident that the Le Havre safehouse needed to be expanded in order to house everyone and their families.

Draco and Harry left the expanding to their friends, however.

They had to get to 12th Grimmauld Place, which was where they met the other members of the Order of the Pheonix.

Many people, like Sirius and Remus, were unhappy to see Draco stroll in and declare that he was helping. That opinion quickly changed when Draco spent hours in the library and realized he knew what one of the many horcruxes were.

Nagini, the blasted snake.

Draco's cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Shacklebolt took care of her.

From there, Draco worked to find information about the other possible horcruxes. Harry was very helpful in that department, telling him about the pensieve he'd seen in Dumbledore's office while Draco was in the Ministry holding cell. Together, they found four other horcruxes: the Ravenclaw Diadem, the Slytherin Locket, the Hufflepuff Cup, and a musty diary.

Everyone in the Order worked stealthily to gather them all in one place by early August.

By then, it became clear that there was something wrong with Dumbledore.

Not that there never was, but there was something different about the old man whenever he walked by. That, and Harry started to be in pain around Dumbledore.

It wasn't until Draco's godfather pulled a ring off of the man did everyone realize that Dumbledore had been in possession of one of Voldemort's horcruxes.

It was quickly tossed into the pile.

When the pile was put into an indestructible room and fiendfyre was conjured, Draco and Harry rejoiced.

Then, a week before their sixth year started, Draco overheard his boyfriend, Dumbledore, and Severus talking in one of the many rooms of Grimmauld Place. Hearing voices that sounded somber and low, Draco decided to peer inside. Harry was crying softly into his hands while Severus appeared pained and tired. Dumbledore was still speaking, going on and on about how many of Harry's abilities were not his own and the formula for horcruxes.

Though a terrible feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, Draco said nothing.

That night, Harry stepped into their shared room and broke down while telling him all about Dumbledore's theory: Harry was the last horcrux Voldemort had and needed to die to make his death final. He said that he didn't want to die, wanted to live just a little bit longer. He said he wanted to be selfish for once because he finally had someone he loved who he knew wouldn't leave him, someone who wanted him to be selfish too.

Draco turned away from him and tried not to cry.

In his opinion, it wasn't fair.

After everything Harry did and everything Harry sacrificed, why must he sacrifice more? Why must Harry be given hope at happiness, only for it to be taken away for the betterment of the 'greater good'? Why didn't people understand that Harry wasn't some— some object for them to expend and demand things of?

Draco hated Dumbledore's theory. He hated Dumbledore. He hated Harry.

He hated that he knew Harry well enough to know that Harry already made up his mind and that he wouldn't be able to stop him from leaving no matter how much he begged.

When his boyfriend was done with his rant, Draco walked over to the edge of his bed, knelt on the ground, and pulled out a small box. He opened the pure white box. Inside was a single black petal.

His first petal.

Draco handed the small box to Harry, whose beautiful eyes widened when he saw it. Then, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead, he retired to bed and sobbed until sunrise.

Draco received a letter from Harry confirming his death at lunchtime. Severus hand-delivered it, patting his back as Draco ruined his robes with his tears. When Draco owled the news to their friends in France, his owl returned empty-legged and hungry.

The days passed by in a daze then, and when he returned to Hogwarts, the days burned to nothing but crisp as Draco remembered all the things they used to do and all the places they used to sneak off to.

Nothing his friends did helped him cope. They were as broken as he was, but they still tried to put him before themselves.

They tried to cheer him up with pranks and items from the Weasley Twins' store, and they tried to host Quidditch matches as per usual. They also fantasized about jobs they might want to pursue in the future. Not that Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Vince, or Greg had to worry about that though. Their families were wealthy enough. Still, they fantasized and tried to get Draco to engage in the conversation.

But all of their efforts only succeeded in reminding him that Harry wasn't there.

His mind kept noting moments where Harry would have said something sarcastic about the pranks they pulled on each other. His eyes kept searching for Harry's twig-like figure instead of the Snitch. His heart kept aching for Harry because all he wanted to do in the future was to be with his boyfriend.

And he couldn't do that.

So he wandered to all the places they went to before and reminisced.

He sat in his room where Harry used to sit. He wandered into the Room of Requirement and stared longingly at the dark affinity cuffs. He slept at the top of the Astronomy Towers without a jacket. He cried in front of the Gryffindor fireplace. And Draco went to their secret spot in the library and flipped the pages of Harry's family album over and over again whilst looking at the engraved 'Lily and James' of the table.

Draco spent most of his time like that.

And days melted into weeks, and weeks melted into months.

Draco was beginning to fade in and out of it, numbness taking over every sense and settling deep within him. He began to suspect that he will never get over this. Over losing Harry. They didn't even have a good year together. They became friends halfway through the school year and became boyfriends only a month or two before school ended. Then they were rushed off to the Black estate, where they only had a blissful month and a half together, but even then they were ushered off to find those damnned horcruxes instead of spending time together.

Draco and Harry didn't have enough time. Draco wasn't sure how much time could have ever been enough, but he suspected no amount of time could have possibly been enough for him to be satisfied.

And for that, Draco was numb.

He was so numb to the point where he almost didn't register the black petal on his pillow one February evening.

Draco snatched it up and pressed his right hand to his lips, wondering nervously if his Harry's death had brought the pain of Hanahaki again. He knew he didn't love anyone he didn't know this time around; he knew he was still in love with someone that was dead. So perhaps— he knew Pansy would torture him for this, but he still hoped— Hanahaki would take his life for real this time and finally  take him to see Harry.

And then someone grabbed his waist from behind and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Draco."

Draco trembled upon hearing the voice, thinking that the heavens were so cruel for doing something like this to him. For cursing him to hear Harry's voice when he still wasn't over the death. For hating him to the point where his heart told him the person hugging him was Harry while his mind reminded him that Harry was dead.

"Draco, I missed you."

He shook his head. "Don't be cruel."

"it's really me. I'm here."

"No," Draco sobbed, his tears finally slipping down his cheeks. "No, it's not. Stop it. Stop this. I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry, alright? Please stop. I'm sorry."

"Draco..." the voice said.

A warm hand caressed his wet cheek before he was gently spun around. The only lamp in the room illuminated Harry's soft features, and the sad, apologetic look in his eyes told Draco that he was back. He was really, really  back.

More tears streamed down both of his cheeks.

Harry was alive. Harry was smiling. Harry was wiping his tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

"It's me."

"Harry..." Draco allowed himself to hope. "Why... You were— you are gone."

"No, it's gone. The thing in me. It's gone," Harry said. "Sorry it took so long. I was allowed to come back, but I had to make sure, really make sure that everything was okay. And it is. Everything's okay now."

"Wait, what?"

"I mean, I died but not really. It wasn't me that died, it was Voldemort's horcrux that died. I was the one that came back."

Draco still didn't understand, but it didn't matter. "Why did it take so long?"

"It didn't. I just wasn't allowed to come back here yet, and I wasn't allowed to tell anybody either," Harry explained. "We should talk more about this tomorrow. It's late right now and you need sleep."

"Wait, what?" Draco asked. "No. No, let's talk now. I don't need sleep. I need you."

Harry smiled sadly and kissed him. "I won't be gone in the morning, I promise. I'm back for good."

Draco didn't believe him, but he could do or say nothing to persuade Harry since the bloke turned the lamp off and tucked him in.

Later, Draco found that it didn't matter if he believed Harry or not.

Harry still wasn't going anywhere.

Part II

A year later, only a few days after they graduated from Hogwarts, Harry got down on one knee and popped the big question. At the time, Draco had been all too overjoyed about graduating with top marks in all his classes except for Care of Magical Creatures, which he didn't really need to become a Cursebreaker, so he didn't really see Harry on his knee until Pansy squealed and manhandled him to turn around.

And after getting over his shock, Draco burst into tears and practically screamed out the loudest ever recorded "Yes!"

Harry laughed and slid the ring onto Draco's ring finger, kissing it before putting his own on.

"It's a matching pair," Harry announced proudly.

And that's when Draco looked down to actually look at the rings in front of him. His was a silver band with a single elegant black rose adorning it. The rose held an emerald stone, reminding Draco of his boyfriend's— no, his fiancé's eyes. And Harry's was a silver band as well, but instead of a black rose, it was a small narcissus bud. And within it, it was a diamond. Translucent, gorgeous.

Draco's eyes welled up with even more tears when he saw the pair.

Harry didn't just purchase a matching pair. He bought them a pair matching them.

"Oh. They're beautiful," he said more to Harry than to anyone else. 

Harry grinned. "They're us."

"I can see that."

"I want us to start a life together."

"We will," Draco promised. "Soon."

Soon was not soon enough.

Their wedding occurred three years after the proposal due to some difficulties at the Auror department.

Harry was an excellent Auror without a doubt, but several Aurors resented him for becoming an Auror too swiftly and easily. Many of them declared that he only got into the department because of his status as the Boy Who Lived, not accepting him even after two years of working alongside him. Draco inwardly seethed whenever Harry came home and talked about something that happened that day, and Draco had plotted to curse these individuals to having no tongue by the end of the second year. However, before Draco could set his plan into motion, Harry shut them up. He raided Aunt Bellatrix's trap safe-house and captured not only her, but Rabastian Lestrange with zero back-ups, zero injuries to himself and the two he'd captured, and zero damages to the safe-house itself. It earned him both respect and fear, which was both good and bad.

However, above all, the event made Draco realize it hurt him to hear little to no good things about the one job Harry thought he would have loved to do. And it was a priority for Draco to help his fiancé figure his life out.

As such, planning their wedding wasn't all too important to them until Harry finally decided he might like to be the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts instead of working alongside those conceited pricks..

Draco thought it was a brilliant idea, and so did everyone significant in their lives.

Harry sent in an application within a month after the decision, to which the newest Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall, replied with good news. She reported that the position wasn't available until the following school year since she had just found a substitute professor for the subject, but that was fine with Harry.

In Draco's opinion, his fiancé deserved some time off anyways.

They spent the next seven months or so planning the wedding before finalizing a date for it. 

October 31st.

That was the date that Draco refused to choose; that was the date Harry insisted on.

It was absolutely horrible how Harry wanted a celebration to occur on the night of his parents' death. How he didn't want to mourn them and the life he should have had. Still, Draco knew once Harry set his mind to something, no one and nothing could convince him to do otherwise. Besides, if Harry really wanted it to happen that day and felt he would feel happy doing it, Draco would rather die than stop him from doing so.

So the Potter-Malfoy wedding was going to be on October 31, 2000.

Thirty minutes after they sent out the invitations, twelve owls pecked at their window with letters demanding to know why they chose the horrid day. Most were addressed to Draco, hilariously enough, and those that weren't were addressed to both of them and asked questions Harry wasn't comfortable with answering. Needless to say, those letters were burned while the others were replied to.

No matter what, Draco and Harry weren't deterred from the date.

As the end of October crept closer, they were thrown into a working frenzy to set everything up perfectly. They ordered cakes— more than five flavors upon Harry's admittance that he didn't know what flavor he enjoyed the most because he had so few cakes in the entirety of his life— and flowers, hired photographers, prepared gifts for their guests, and planned their honeymoon. They also went to several different tailors due to Draco's pickiness and Harry's indecisiveness. Eventually, they decided to simply trust in Pansy and left their suits to her.

By the time October 30th came around, they were both so exhausted, they left the setting up of the actual wedding to Blaise and Ron. Not by choice of course. Draco was drugged with a sleeping potion and Harry was bullied by Pansy and Hermione into resting for the big day.

The next day, before Draco could yell at her for drugging him, Pansy stepped into his room at precisely ten in the morning and dressed him in the finest silvery robes Draco had ever seen before. Then she ushered him out to the beachside of the hotel, forcing him to take picture after picture after picture.

It was so exhausting, it was a relief when Draco was ushered into the reception hall they rented out two hours later. Harry met him there moments later, looking heart-wrenchingly beautiful with an emerald suit and with his hair slightly less ruffled. With his mouth open, Draco knew Harry was thinking something similar about him.

Minerva McGonagall and Severus, who Harry and Draco each insisted on, were their officiators for their marital and magical bonding.

However, before they could even try and begin to state the traditional vows, Draco interrupted them.

"Before we start, I would like to say something," he said lowly.

Draco glanced slightly at Harry, who nodded his head in encouragement. He had, after all, spent hours convincing Draco speaking to everyone during their wedding was a good idea.

"Is that alright with you?" he continued, asking Severus and McGonagall.

"By all means," they responded.

Draco sighed in relief. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat and turned to the general direction to the audience.

"I'm sure most of you are quite aware of this, but in our fifth year at Hogwarts, I didn't think I'd live long enough to see our lives transform into one where everyone is happy. I didn't think I'd live to see Blaise engaged to Cassius, to see Pansy and Theo adopt their two boys, to see Sirius be proved innocent, to see Mother be free, and to see Ron and Hermione finally get together. To be honest, I didn't think I'd live to see anything at all."

Draco paused.

"I was fourteen when I first learned I was sick and dying. I didn't know that I was in love with Harry, and I didn't know how long I had to live. Every day, I lived like I was dying the next. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo... you tried to convince me that everything will turn out alright in the end. And Harry, my love, you and Ron and Hermione worked your damnest to do the same. I had to trick you all to take a bloody break from researching so damn much, and just when I thought you would finally let it be, let me die in peace, I realized I loved Harry and I didn't think Harry loved me back. My case worsened quickly."

Draco glanced around the room, seeing that everyone was beginning to tear up as though it had just dawned on them that Draco was so young when he resigned to the fact that he was going to die.

"But I didn't want to die anymore. I knew that Harry was going to get him into life-endangering situations that gave Hermione and I headaches and I wanted to be there for him. And no matter how many times Harry gave me hints as to his requiting, I never saw it. Not even when my mother and Severus saw it."

His mother sniffled, wiping a tear and nodding slightly. In contrast, Severus smirked proudly.

"It was difficult for me to accept it when I first realized it. I didn't think anyone was capable of loving me for me, least of all Harry," Draco continued. "I'm sure I was quite painful to be around."

Everyone chuckled at that, nodding their heads.

"You've all had to endure so much because of me, and I'm quite sure you wanted to hit me once or twice because of how oblivious I had been. I couldn't have remained alive without you."

Draco allowed them to do so for another moment or two before diving into the main point of his speech.

"I suppose what I am trying to say is thank you and I love you. I love all of you."

Several people were crying now, repeating the sentiment back to him without saying anything. Draco smiled at them in hopes that it would convey his understanding. Then, he turned to Harry.

"We were painful to be around, weren't we?" Harry asked.

Draco laughed. "You more than me."

Harry shook his head, snickering and holding his hands out again.

Draco took them without hesitation.

McGonagall and Severus cleared their throats before stating their vows in perfect unison. 

Draco and Harry repeated them back.

"I, Harry James Potter, take thee, Draco Lucius Malfoy, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part; and thereto I pledge thee my faith and myself to you."

"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take thee, Harry James Potter, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part; and thereto I pledge thee my faith and myself to you."

"You may now kiss the groom," Severus announced smugly.

Dark chocolate petals gracefully floated down from above them as they kissed, and the reception hall exploded with loud cheers and claps from their families.

Two hours later, when their first dance and dinner toasts were over with, Harry began to get a bit fidgety. He stared a bit too long at the two chairs they left empty for James and Lily Potter, sighing often enough that even Narcissa noticed. She pulled her son aside and gestured to his now-happily-wedded-husband. Draco followed the gesture and quickly rushed over to him.

"Harry," Draco called.

He grabbed Harry's hand and excused themselves to the far corner of the dinner hall. Casting a quick notice-me-not charm, Draco pulled Harry into a tight embrace. When he released him, he was still able to see the tears in Harry's eyes.

Draco scowled.

As he had expressed from the beginning, Draco didn't think it was a good idea to host a goddamn wedding on someone's death day. Perhaps they should end the wedding hear and reschedule it for the next week or two. "Love, are you alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

Draco frowned. "Don't lie to me again. You know you're awful at it. Now I'm going to ask you again: are you alright?"

Hesitating for the briefest of moments, Harry shook his head.

"I'm happy. I know I shouldn't be because... y'know, but I'm really happy."

Draco nodded his head.

"I mean, my parents are gone and I'm supposed to be at their graves like I was last year and the year before that. Instead, I'm getting married to the love of my life and looking forward to a new beginning. Our new beginning."

Draco, unable to say anything in response to that, smiled and slipped their hands together.

They returned to the wedding celebration fifteen minutes later when they heard Cassius puking on Pansy's new shoes and Pansy screaming bloody murder. Theo and Blaise were trying to console their lovers while Ron and Hermione were laughing hysterically beside them. The other attendants couldn't help but chuckle either, muttering to themselves how children will always be children.

Draco and Harry shared a happy smile as they watched the people they love laugh and spend time with one another, knowing that they wouldn't change anything in their lives for the world.