Malfoy men should not associate themselves with those of a lower blood status.

Draco Malfoy slowly shuffled through the halls of Hogwarts, trying to ignore the whispers that followed his every step.

'Deatheater, evil, coward, disgrace.' Every hissed insult hit the once proud boy like a punch to the face.

The dark lord was dead. His father was in prison awaiting the dementor's kiss that would suck out his very life. His mother was nothing but a recluse, never leaving her room. His friends were all either dead or ostrasized him with the rest of the world. Severus, His godfather and teacher, who protected and cared for Draco like his own family never could-dead and gone. He was all alone.

A whispered curse knocked the defeated boy off his feet and down to the cold stone floor of the castle, books spiraling every which way. He let out a near inaudible sigh and slowly lifted himself off the ground to begin picking up his fallen school books.

The hateful glares, rumors, and curses sent his way were no new phenomenon. He had been harassed ever since his decision to return to Hogwarts to complete his "eighth" year. The students were ruthless and the professors turned a blind eye. He deserved everything he got and more according to them.

As Draco reached to grab the last of his school books, a tan hand snapped it of nowhere grabbing the book and holding it out to him. Draco grabbed the book and traced the hand up it's arm, to it's owner. Harry Potter, the savior of them all.

"Potter," Draco, attempted to sneer, but his voice had lost all emotion ages ago, "come to kick me while I'm down I suppose."

"Not quite, Malfoy," Harry replied looking down at the empty shell of his childhood rival. Chuckling at Draco's uncertain look, the savior gestured to the book, "I was trying to help you, not that you noticed."

"Why? You hate me." Draco stated without afflection.

"I don't hate you Malfoy," Harry said as he ran a hand through his tousled locks before muttering under his breath, "quite the opposite really.

Draco looked questioningly at the dark haired wizard. "What do you mean, Potter?"

Harry sighed, seemingly frustrated, "Look, Malfoy, you don't deserve this, the was everyone's been treating you, it's not right."

"So, What do you care?" Draco asked, confused.

"Do you remember first year at all Malfoy?" The Slytherin's silence didn't seem to waver Gryffindor as he continued to ramble, "I do. You offered me your friendship, rather rudely if I do remember, and I denied it. A lot has changed since then, obviously, and I guess, now I wanted to offer you my hand in friendship."

"Why offer me your friendship now?" Draco asked quietly.

"You deserve a friend," The boy who lived said gently.

"I'm not some charity case, Potter!" Draco exclaimed sharply.

"I didn't mean that you were!" The Gryffindor hastily denied, "I only meant that, well, everyone deserves a second chance, right?"

Draco scanned the boy who was standing nervously in front of him. Taking a deep breath and looking into emerald green eyes he whispered, "Okay Potter, I accept."

Grinning widely, Harry held out his hand, "Shake on it then, oh, and you can call me Harry!"

Something akin to a smile ghosted across Draco's face as he took Harry's hand, "Only if you call me Draco."