He felt out of place. Simply, utterly, ridiculously out of place. There was no other way to describe it. All of his life had been spent with the elite, as his family was the most powerful and influential in the wizarding world. He'd had nothing but the best of everything from the time he could remember, his parents never allowing anything second rate. His mother had doted on him endlessly, always reminding him of his heritage and what it would mean to continue the family name and societal position. His father had instilled in him what it truly meant to carry the name Malfoy and what his obligations would be as he grew older and acquired more responsibility, always talking about taking the Mark as if it were some sacred rite of passage. He had always been a little leery of taking the Mark but usually his arrogance pushed past that. He was a Malfoy. He would take it and take it proudly.

They never prepared him for this though. They never talked about what would happen should he not be with the family any longer. He was a fish out of water in his current surroundings, floundering around helplessly. His life had been shaken violently and flipped upside down. Everything he knew, everything he understood, everything that had once been him, was gone. Ironically enough, he had his father to thank for that.

Draco knew that his father had hoped, and planned, that when the war began, they would stand side by side and fight with Voldemort, killing and destroying whoever and whatever they had to. And Draco honestly had tried to be what his father expected, especially after Lucius had begged Voldemort to test him and prove the Malfoy loyalty ran deep, but instead the opposite occurred. Draco couldn't do it. He couldn't fulfill his mission. The mission was completed, yes, but not by him. A conscience had slipped inside Draco when no one, including him, was looking. He didn't know how or when, but alas, it was there. He couldn't kill Dumbledore, consequently shaming his father and angering Voldemort to the point he was now hunted as if he were a common mudblood.

After the attack on Hogwarts and Dumbledore's death, Draco was immediately and reluctantly brought into the fold of the Order, as they were the only ones who could offer him the kind of protection he needed. There was no second chance for him and no way he could return home. Voldemort wanted him killed along with Potter and nothing his father said or did changed that fact. It was rather odd to Draco how Potter and he had always been enemies and now they were both hunted by the same man, seeking refuge in the same place, as if they were allies. Imagine…Malfoy and Potter allies. He couldn't even grasp the concept really.

His 'family' now consisted of people he once hated. The transition had not been an easy one and still wasn't complete. He'd had a chip on his shoulder for months, giving everyone attitude, until finally realizing they were all he had, and that if they tossed him out, death would certainly find him. And, when he zoned in to this conscience, a completely new concept to him, he realized that he didn't truly hate the Order members. He'd been taught to hate them and had known no better. Granted, some still got on his last nerve, but he didn't hate them. It wasn't easy though as he still had moments where he lashed out with attitude and sarcastic comments, usually apologizing later, something that shocked everyone the first few times it happened, including Draco. He was definitely not the same person he'd been just a year ago and didn't think he ever wanted to go back to being what he was.

As to be expected, the group was divided over Draco's loyalty. A few, namely Mrs. Weasley, Professor Snape, Tonks and Hermione, believed he had genuinely changed while the rest were leery, thinking he was working with his father and Voldemort as a spy. Truth was, Draco was scared to death of everyone he'd grown up with, including his immediate family, but told no one this explicitly. His days were spent at 12 Grimmauld Place, the Order's headquarters, hiding out and preparing for war like everyone else. His 'new home' was certainly nothing like what he had been accustomed to at Malfoy Manor, but at least he was alive, something he was quite certain he would not be if he tried to return to his home or family. After being the difficult prat he was at Hogwarts, he couldn't blame them for not trusting him. Even though it did piss him off periodically, he still understood it.

Oddly enough, Hermione had been the first to stick up for Draco, while the other two thirds of the Golden Trio refused to believe a word he said. She often tried to point out things to Harry and Ron that were obvious to her as far as his innocence while Draco kept quiet, knowing everything she said was truth. Harry and Ron were adamant about not trusting Draco, causing quite a few heated arguments and awkward moments between the three. Mrs. Weasley was the next to come to his defense, agreeing with Hermione and believing Draco, tired of the sarcastic comments Remus and Arthur constantly made when he was around, trying to remind everyone the war was against Voldemort outside the house, not with Draco inside the house.

Though days were tense, stressed and hectic, nights were even worse. Everyone was on edge, expecting anything and everything, always anticipating the worst. It seemed everyone was frustrated with everyone else which caused even more tension. Mrs. Weasley got aggravated when any of the kids tried to eavesdrop when they weren't supposed to; Mr. Weasley when his job was at stake and no one was taking him seriously, which was often; Remus because he now had Snape and a Malfoy to deal with under the same roof; Professor Snape because he was torn between two masters and fearing for his life more than ever; Ron because his mum fussed over him still; Hermione because of Ron and Harry's constant attitude; Harry because...

Draco's brain stopped. Potter. He'd grown up hearing of "Savior Potter" and listening to all the venom his father would spew regarding him. When Draco arrived at Hogwarts, he'd continued hating Potter and all he was. Why should some poor nobody have the popularity and reputation like he did? Potter was trash to a Malfoy; something to step on and never think of again, like a gum wrapper on the street. He hated the way Potter couldn't get his homework done but could solve bigger and complex mysteries. The hate had been bred into him since birth. But now...

He didn't know for sure if he still hated him or not. They still bickered and fought quite often but Draco had begun to see Potter in a different light, though he'd never admit it. He understood it was Potter's life or Voldemort's and how significant that was. Draco couldn't imagine what he would be like if faced with the same ultimatum. Potter had grown distant from everyone, choosing to remain in his bedroom, on the very top floor, at the end of the hall, usually with the door locked. People only went up there when absolutely necessary, and that was only after arguing for fifteen minutes over who had gone up last. When Harry did come downstairs, which was seldom, he usually glared at everyone, snapping answers to those who were brave enough to ask questions. It was a very uncomfortable environment but Draco figured it was better than being dead.

He and Potter were really no different than Potter and the rest of the group. Draco was always on the receiving end of glares, stares and sarcastic comments. However, unlike everyone else, Draco gave it back, even with his understanding of Potter's stress. Dammit if he was going to coddle him like the rest of the household did. He just refused to. He was a Malfoy after all. And Voldemort wanted his head beside Potter's as well so he deserved no special treatment as far as Draco was concerned.

There was no leader after Dumbledore's death. Remus, Professor Snape and Mr. Weasley routinely bickered over who should have final say, thinking each knew better than the other, while the women tried to keep things calm. The Order seemed to be falling apart, little by little, and it was beginning to cause doubts. Though most kept their thoughts silent, everyone was scared that Harry might not win. Draco lay awake many nights, terrified of how it would be if Voldemort won.

One night, like many before it, Draco slipped from the room that was reluctantly shared by Weasley and him, not able to sleep and tired of listening to the red haired boy snore, and headed downstairs. A quick glance at the clock told him just how late, or early, it was. A couple more hours and the sun would rise. Not that it really mattered. Morning, evening – it was all the same.

As he quietly snuck down the stairs, Draco thought how eerily silent the house was. Very rarely, even in the wee hours of the morning, was there total silence. Usually someone was up somewhere doing something or talking to someone else. And true to form, as soon as he stepped into the dark kitchen, he felt a presence and heard, "Why the fuck are you up?"

As his eyes adjusted, Draco saw him at the table, hunched over a cup of tea. "Am I not allowed out of my room after midnight?" he quipped, heading for the cupboard for a cup, resisting the urge to slam the doors.

"I really don't give a damn what you do," Harry said, voice monotone. Unlike some of the others, he had no problem sending him back to his father, not caring what happened to him. Harry had way too much on his shoulders to have to watch his back too.

"Contrary to what's in that scarred head of yours," Draco said snidely. "I did not come down here to discuss what you do or don't give a damn about. I can't sleep and just want some tea." He was cranky and not in the mood for arguing. Why did everything have to be an argument with him?

"Then fix your tea and go," Harry said, sipping the hot liquid slowly. It was rare the kitchen was quiet and he had been enjoying the silence. Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see. Ever.

"I can sit in here if I feel like it," Draco snapped. "You don't get to tell everyone what to do." He pointed his wand at the cold water in the cup, spelling it into hot tea.

Harry laughed. "In case you don't remember, everyone's very existence relies on me," he told him. "So that gives me the right to tell you, Ferret Boy, to get the hell out of the kitchen and let me be." As far as Harry was concerned, he did have the right to order him around because he possessed the power to save or destroy over half the wizarding world.

As Draco opened his mouth to reply, a voice asked, "Is there a problem, Gentlemen?"

"Nothing that a quick Kedavra wouldn't fix," Harry muttered, casting an evil glance towards Draco.

"You do and I'll…"

"Both of you just stop," Remus said, weary of the constant bickering between the two. "Everyone is scared and stressed and tired of playing referee with you both. Harry, you cannot kill him. Draco, there are other rooms in this house." He hated to treat them like two year olds but had no choice.

"Saint Potter," Draco spat.

"Son of a Death Eater," Harry spat back.

When Draco started to lunge for Harry out of anger for the reference to his father, he found a wand at his neck. "I might forbid Harry from killing you," Remus said quietly through clenched teeth. "But I still can." He was not yet convinced of Malfoy's innocence and reminded him of that fact often.

"What the blazes is going on here?" Molly exclaimed, joining the three in the kitchen. When no one said anything, she continued. "Remus, you and I need to have a chat. Now. Boys, please return to your rooms immediately. It's late and you should be asleep." She couldn't wait for this war to be over, tired of being everyone's mother. She was already planning on taking holiday in Romania. Alone.

Both Harry and Draco were quiet as they took their cups and reluctantly left the kitchen.

"Thanks for ruining my peaceful moment," Harry whispered sarcastically as they slowly made their way up the creaky staircase.

"I just wanted tea, Potter," Draco said, stopping at his floor, watching Harry's dark shadow continue up the stairs. He would never admit it, but he almost felt bad for some reason. Almost. "You didn't have to start a fight. Again." He'd only been looking for some peace, as he knew Harry had been too.

"Whatever," Harry said, continuing up the stairs to his room that was quickly becoming a self made prison. He knew better than to venture out, regardless of the time of day, or night, especially with Malfoy in the house. Trouble was just waiting to happen with them. He could feel it. And he didn't like it.

After that night, the tension in the house seemed to double whenever Harry and Draco were in the same room. Their antics were always the same. They gave each other attitude, called each other names, threw insults back and forth until one made a move toward the other, having to be separated by whoever was around. Everyone yelled at everyone after, some defending Harry and others defending Draco. It was as if the war between Harry and Draco was more important than between Harry and Voldemort. It certainly took precedent inside 12 Grimmauld Place.

Everyone took turns talking to Harry and Draco, hoping to settle, or at least temporarily settle, their issues until the war was over. Neither Harry or Draco really listened to anyone though, except Hermione. She was the only one either would halfway listen to. Harry considered her his best friend while Draco trusted her because she had been the first in the house to trust him, ironically enough. But no one was convinced that their trust in her was enough to make a difference.

One night, after witnessing and dealing with the fights for almost a month, Hermione decided to talk to Draco again. The confrontations were steadily growing out of hand and she had a suspicion that wouldn't leave her alone. She had to say something for everyone's sake. Even if she was wrong.

"What?" he asked when he opened the door and saw her standing there.

"Draco, please," she said, pushing past him and looking around while he closed the door. "Where's Ron?" She was glad he wasn't there, thankful she wouldn't have to hear him whine from being kicked out. She couldn't discuss this with him around.

"Do I look like your other half's keeper?" Draco still didn't understand how they worked.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She tried hard to be Draco's friend but it was certainly trying at times. "I'm your ally, in case you forgot," she reminded him.

Draco sighed and slumped down to his bed. "I know, I know," he said, shaking his head. "Sorry." He was still amazed after everything he'd called her over the years that she still tried to be nice to him. He never told her but he appreciated it.

She sat down beside him, knowing she was about to light dynamite. "Draco," she began, turning to face him. "I want to ask you something crazy but please don't yell at me." She knew he would though.

"Then maybe you shouldn't ask," he said with a sneer. He was often not happy with things she said, as the topic was usually Harry, but knew she meant well. At least she acted like she gave a damn.

"Are you attracted to men?"

He was so caught off guard by her question, he said nothing at first and just stared at her.

"You know what I mean?" Hermione continued, wincing because she knew she was bringing up a touchy subject. "Instead of finding girls attractive you…"

"I know what it means," Draco snapped, finding his voice. "And no I'm not. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" He couldn't believe she'd ask such a thing. Him, be attracted to guys? Never.

Hermione bit her lip for a second. "Well I thought…that maybe if you were…you know…that might explain some of the animosity between…"

"You think I'm attracted to bloody Saint Potter?" Draco exclaimed, standing up quickly, face reddening immediately. "That's rich, that is. You're off your fucking rocker!" She'd been stuck in this house way too long. She was hallucinating or something.

"I just thought…"

"Well think of something else!" he yelled, heart racing. Attracted to men? Attracted to Potter? Maybe someone had cast some spell on her. That had to be it.

"I'm only trying to help!" she yelled back, rushing from the room and slamming the door behind her, a common sound throughout the house these days.

Draco began pacing around the room. It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Attracted to men. Hardly. He was attracted to girls, no question about it. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, quickly finding his hidden bottle of firewhiskey and chugging. How dare she ask such a thing! What kind of fantasies were in her head? Potter. He must have said something to her, that prick. He was probably the wanker but wanted Draco to look like he was instead. Son of a bitch.

Harry tried to concentrate on the book Snape had given him two days ago that was about ancient, complicated dark magic that Voldemort routinely practiced. He was supposed to be studying this book backwards and forwards to take away any advantage Voldemort had, but couldn't concentrate, having read the same page three times.

He was beyond angry, beyond frustrated, beyond terrified. He'd experienced these emotions his whole life. Growing up in that Muggle house, he'd been treated like shit by people who were supposed to be blood relation, supposed to be family. They'd ignored him, ridiculed him, degraded him, until that fateful year he entered Hogwarts, which he used to call the best year of his life. These days, he could argue that point, often wondering if he could go back and change it, would he?

Right now, that answer was yes. The past seven years had just been one nightmare after another. All he'd wanted was to be "just Harry", not the savior of the bloody wizarding world. He'd never wanted to be well known or popular, never wanted to be the main topic of every discussion. He just wanted to be a seventeen year old and couldn't even do that right. His hormones should be raging out of control at this point but wondered if he even had any. He'd kissed both Cho and Ginny but neither felt right. He couldn't take anything any further with them because he was under such an extreme amount of stress that certain…things…just hadn't worked. Other seventeen year olds were making out, or better yet, shagging already, and he couldn't even get excited with a kiss because of all the bullshit around him. Why couldn't he just be normal?

Harry's life had never been normal though. There wasn't a night that went by where he didn't think of his parents. He missed them terribly and yet had never known them. But they had loved him. He was sick and tired of losing people that he cared for and that cared for him. First his parents, then Sirius and most recently, Albus. The resentment and pure hatred toward Snape for killing Albus, regardless of any vow, was unmatchable and he'd already decided to Kedavra him on the battlefield if possible. There was no one left who really cared for him, not like he needed. Hermione and Ron were his best friends and he knew they cared for him, but they'd also been focused on each other the past couple years. He hadn't felt this alone when he was living under the stairs because he hadn't known any different. Sometimes he longed for those days, horrible though they were. They were simpler times and simple was what he craved.

Harry looked out the window into the black of night. An image of Draco flashed through his mind, causing him to shake his head. Little prick. Snape was bad enough but now Malfoy too? Hermione and Mrs. Weasley tried to convince him of Malfoy's innocence but he had stormed off from them more than once. Anymore, that was how he ended conversations he didn't like. And any conversation about or involving Draco, he didn't like.

He hated Draco to his very core, and if he was real honest with himself, he knew why even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone else. He was jealous of the white-haired ferret. Draco had the family Harry didn't, dysfunctional though they were. He'd still had the privilege of growing up with both his parents and having everything he ever wanted. Harry was lucky when he'd gotten three bites of meat for dinner. He'd never owned a new piece of clothing until Hogwarts. He'd never eaten a decent meal until Hogwarts. He'd never had friends until Hogwarts. Life, as far as he was concerned, didn't start until Hogwarts. And, ironically, he often felt Hogwarts would end it. Maybe that's the way it was supposed to be.

Draco would have loved to have been the center of attention. He would have loved the fact that everyone's existence relied on him. He would have flaunted it about endlessly, probably doing countless interviews with that horrible Skeeter woman and posing for Merlin knows how many pictures for the Prophet. His arrogance alone would have gotten him and everyone else killed. But Draco still would have loved to possess the power. Harry hated it. He hated everything about it. He didn't know what normal meant anymore. He didn't know how to be seventeen. He couldn't. Everyone else his age was dating, giving in to their hormones, experiencing exciting firsts, while Harry was wondering if he'd even see his eighteenth birthday, or if he'd even want to.

He did know, this war ended it all, one way or another. And that was the only fact he found any comfort in.

A couple hours later at two-thirty in the morning with too much firewhiskey coursing through his veins, Draco found himself heading for Harry's room. He'd had enough. He was sick and tired of the arguing and fights they'd started but never finished, over everyone trying to explain to him why he should 'understand' what Potter was going through. Fuck them. What about what he was going through?

Draco pounded on the barrier between his nemesis and him. "Open the fucking door," he hissed, still carrying his half empty bottle, waving his wand and muttering a spell so no one would hear them. This ended tonight.

Moments passed till an aggravated and short fused Harry opened the door. "What, can't find your hole to crawl into, Ferret Boy?" he spat. This was not what he needed tonight. He was not in the right frame of mind to deal with him.

Draco pushed past him. "Shut the fuck up for a minute," he snarled, head swimming slightly. "We can't keep going like this." He wasn't about to be blamed for Harry's lack of concentration. Draco was terrified of Voldemort winning, especially since he hadn't been able to follow through with his task. They needed to end their fighting somehow so they could focus on the bigger problem at hand.

"You're drunk," Harry said, disgusted with Draco's inebriated state. "Get out before I yell for…"

"I've already spelled the room to be soundproof and I'm not leaving so shut the damned door!" Draco exclaimed in one breath, slightly waving the bottle clenched in his hand. They were going to talk now.

Harry slammed the wooden door, fighting the urge to Kedavra him right then. He stormed past Draco to return to the bay window where he'd been sitting reading the dark magic book. "So talk," he said, crossing his arms and glaring at the white haired boy. Don't kill him, he told himself. Don't kill him. It's not worth it.

Draco waved the half empty bottle again as he spoke. "This fighting is fucking ridiculous," he began, hatred blazing from his cold blue eyes. "I'm tired of it. You act as if you're the only one in this. You're not the only one with the damned army of Death Eaters after them you know."

"No, but I am the only one who can save your sorry ass," Harry reminded him. "If I lose, everyone dies. You only have your pathetic little life to save. I have yours, mine and the ENTIRE FUCKING WIZARDING WORLD to save and I never asked for any of it! I never wanted any of this to have to be responsible for!" He fought to be calm but couldn't do it around Malfoy. His heart was racing, eyes wide and lips pursed together, ready for anything. This meeting had been long overdue.

"I can't go home," Draco continued. "I can see none of my family. The only life I've ever known is gone. I'm a Malfoy, Potter. Don't you get it? It's not supposed to be this way!" While Draco did try to understand him, Harry wasn't understanding the significance of his situation. He was being selfish and Draco was done with it. He and others were just as scared and no one coddled them. It was all about bloody Potter.

"Then go home and get killed," Harry said with a shrug, voice empty. "I don't give a shit really." One less person for him to worry about was fine with him, especially one less Malfoy.

Draco lunged for Harry in frustration and intoxication, partially falling on him, causing Harry to hit his head against the window, as he stuck his wand to Harry's throat, hatred filling his eyes. Do it, the voice in his head told him. Do it now! Prove you're not the coward he thinks you are!

Harry's chest was quickly rising and falling, green eyes large and angry. "Go ahead and kill me, you ass," he said through his teeth. "And you sign everyone's death warrants, including your own." For just a second, he almost would have welcomed death, would have welcomed the relief.

Draco's teeth were grinding together. "Son of a bitch," he snarled. "I hate you!" Why couldn't he just kill him as he'd thought of so often? Just two simple words and it would be done. But what about Voldemort, the conscience he was beginning to hate, asked. Who will face him? Killing Potter condemned him and everyone else to certain death. Dammit!

"Whatever," Harry said, pushing him off, sensing Draco's defeat. "Get the fuck out of my room." He stood up and added, "Coward." Truth was truth.

That word sent the hackles up as Draco threw the glass bottle at Harry, missing his head by inches, watching as it slammed against the window frame, shards of glass and alcohol flying everywhere, causing Harry to jump out of the way. "Don't call me a fucking coward!" Draco yelled, lunging for Harry again.

Harry was ready for him and shoved him away a second time. "What's wrong, Ferret Boy?" he yelled. "Can't handle the truth? You're a liar and a coward and had to have Snape do your dirty work!" Draco had always been just a waste of skin, as far as he was concerned. He would be useless in battle. Maybe he'd Kedavra him after Snape.

"Shut up!" Draco yelled, trying to steady himself as he reached for the nearby bedpost. "At least my mother wasn't some filthy little mudblood!" If Harry wanted to throw daggers, Draco had an arsenal ready.

Harry saw red then as he attacked Draco, knocking him to the bed, arms and legs flailing, each one trying to get an advantage over the other. Draco got in a quick punch and then Harry did before Draco rolled them over so he could get in better punches, both of their bottom lips split and bloody.

Harry got the advantage again, rolling Draco back over, grabbing his arms and wrestling them to the bed. "I hate you and your family!" he hissed as Draco struggled under him. "At least you had a family! At least you knew your parents! I have nothing but fucking pictures! Do you understand? I hate this…I hate all of it…I don't want to save everyone…just want to get on with my life…"

Anger flowed through the two men as they struggled against the other, Harry being the stronger of the two. "Damn you!" he yelled, pushing off Draco, overcome with emotion he could not control. Instantly his face was wet from the tears flowing from his eyes. His thoughts from earlier coupled with their fighting had caused the despair and anguish he'd dealt with over the years to mix with the extreme fear and trepidation he had now. "Get out!" he yelled, sobbing and collapsing to the bed, hugging his knees to his chest, crying out in emotional pain. "Get out!" It was just too much to handle anymore. All he ever wanted was a family to love him…to accept him…to just be normal.

Draco sat up slowly, chest heaving, lip throbbing in pain, head pounding. He was still angry but apparently their fighting had satisfied some part of his hatred. He'd never seen another guy cry like this before…well not other than himself, which he would never admit to. He watched as Harry's body shook and listened as he wept. He'd never heard anything so intense. He realized he almost felt…sad? Since when did Draco feel sad for anyone? Especially Harry Potter? What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Harry," he said, voice even, surprised he could even say his first name. "Harry, come on. Let's…let's just finish fighting. We'll…feel better and everyone can stop yelling at us." He knew it sounded stupid but didn't know what else to say. Harry was near hysterical and Draco was at a loss for what to do. He told himself he should leave but couldn't.

"Don't wanna fight!" Harry cried, shaking his head. "Hate…f-fighting…hate…k-killing! And I h-have…no choice!"

Hated it? Draco thought he honestly looked forward to it. "Come on, Potter," he said, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Stop crying, okay?" He was being reminded of his own sadness and fear and began fighting his emotion, quickly building as he listened to Harry. He couldn't cry now. He wouldn't.

As he sat though, the despair and reality of his circumstances engulfed him as tears fell from his eyes, realizing his life would never be the same, that he would probably never see his parents again, never return home to the lavish life he was used to, assuming he even lived. Everything he'd been taught about the Malfoy family was pointless now. His entire life felt pointless.

"Fuck you, Potter," Draco whispered as he wiped tears from his eyes and blood from his lip, laying back against the bed, hating this emotion that he couldn't control. It was all just too much. Months of fear and anger and stress were taking their toll as he gave in to the tears he tried desperately to fight.

Harry turned over, both surprised and relieved, to see Draco silently crying, covering his face, understanding his fear as no other could, and reached for him instinctively. Draco resisted at first but was so upset, he soon wrapped his arms around Harry, as both lay entwined, crying and comforting at the same time.

Thanks for reading...this won't be long or involved...it's just been floating around in my head for awhile now... )