Title: Found In Exile

Characters: Harry, Draco

Rating: NC-17 for an f-bomb.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling and publishers. No offense is meant by this fan fiction and this is made purely for fun.

Summary: Harry comes across Malfoy one day in Italy.

Day: Sept 01

A/N: My friend got me this thing with all the days of the year. It's not a calendar though. It has these friendship quotes for each day and I like some of them so I'm going to try writing a fic or drabble for those. I don't know how I'm going to keep up with them though. I'm crazy or something. This will probably take me more than a year.

"Only solitary people know the full joys of friendship.

Others have their family;

But to a solitary and an exile friends are everything."

-Willa Cather (1873-1947)

Harry walked through the streets aimlessly as he observed the night lights. He listened vaguely to the chatter and the laughter around him. It had been nearly a year since Ron and Hermione had passed and he did not want to be in London when the day arrived so he had booked a flight to Italy. Registering for a portkey would have made too many people aware of his whereabouts and he wanted the privacy and time to himself.

He had never known quite what to do when they had died. It was amazing that he was so lost. He thought that after the war he would have toughened up a bit; learned to accept death as part of life. In reality it had made him hold those dear to him all the closer. He had only accepted his own death. He had done so the moment he convinced himself to go to the Forbidden Forest that night. To think that after surviving something like that he would lose the two most important people to him in a random attack. Some bloke had been so angry at the world that he had lashed out in Diagon Alley and thrown Killing Curses every which way, including at himself. Harry had been one of the "lucky" ones.

He was not sure how long he had walked for, or where he had walked to, but it was dark and the roads were nearly empty. He checked his watch, 3:31 a.m.

September first, he thought.

He came upon a bridge and ran his eyes along the water bellow, the lights reflecting on its surface like deformed flames. Harry saw a figure sitting on the ledge staring out at the sky. Near white hair glowed under the streetlights and the collar of their coat was pulled up to their ears. He got a sense of melancholy from the figure, much like his own, and swiftly tore his gaze away and kept walking. He did not need to fall further, he was already so low.

He had almost come off the bridge when recognition struck him so hard that he gasped. He turned around and watched the figure, the man. He recognized those shoulders, that hair and those sharp angles of the man's face. The man turned his head slowly, curious at first until Harry's identity finally dawned on him. It was Malfoy.

Unexpectedly, the man laughed. It was bitter and it was painful and Harry could not watch the display. Malfoy got up and walked towards him. Harry turned away.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

He kept walking.

"Nothing to say to me?" the man hollered.

He closed his eyes.

"I heard about your friends. "

He froze.

"It's not exactly lovely, is it? Being alone."

"What do you know, Malfoy?" he spat, as he whirled around and stormed at the man. He grabbed him by the collar and shook him hard. "What the fuck do you know about being alone?"

There it was again, that bitter laugh. "I'm in exile, Potter. I know everything about it," Malfoy laughed. "You think witches and wizards want anything to do with me? And I'm wandless thanks to you so I can't do much for employment. And legally I can't go anywhere near Muggles."

Harry loosened his grip when he got a look at Malfoy's eyes. They were as grey as ever, but they were dull, tired. There was no flicker of life when he laughed. It was empty. Malfoy was empty. Harry shoved him back so he could get away from those eyes, Malfoy tumbled to the ground. He hoped he did not look quite to dead himself.

"What of your parents? Your friends?" he asked.

"You have got quite some jokes, Potter," Malfoy chuckled, as he rolled onto his back. Harry could see how worn his clothes were and wondered if Malfoy had been outside because he wanted to be or because he had no other choice. "Father's been dead for years and mother has run off somewhere ever since. Merlin knows where she went. And I've long since lost contact with my friends. The Ministry gives them too much of a hassle for it to be worth it."

Harry watched the man for long moments wondering what he should do, what he should say. "Malfoy, you in the mood for a drink? I reckon you know a cheap bar around here."

"Offering me a pity drink?"

"That and I need to get shitfaced."

"From one drink?" Malfoy teased, still on the ground. "Poor."

"From a number of drinks," he retorted, as he held out his hand. He was not sure what prompted the kindness. Maybe it was the fact that they were both alone in the world, Malfoy more so than himself. "Well?"

"You're paying," the man said, as he took Harry's hand and pulled himself up.

"I reckon I am since you're poor and likely to be homeless as well."

"Oh, how times have changed. Do I need to act civil towards you to claim these drinks?"

"I should think so."

Malfoy laughed again and Harry felt he imagined a flicker of life in those grey eyes. "I never thought Harry Potter would be the closest thing I had to a friend."

"I wouldn't call us friends quite yet."

"It goes to show how deprived I am. How about those drinks then?"