Further Education

by FanboyPhaedrus

A sequel to Teaching & Learning. Harry Potter knew that Malfoy had been Dumbledore's lover while they were at school. He had never quite approved of the fact but he had learned to accept it. But only years later does Harry finally realise the true intensity of their relationship and he finally begins to accept that there might be more to Draco Malfoy than he realised.

1. Chapter 1

1. The Next Great Adventure.

Albus Dumbledore was dying. He was 126 years old. He had had a wonderful, rich and fulfilling life. He had a calm mind. He was dying, but he was ready.

He felt no fear and no serious regrets as he lay peacefully in bed in his private ward at St Mungoes. The room was pleasing, with a view that looked out over the city. Watching life go by, yet somehow removed from it. The staff at the hospital had been wonderful too, treating their revered patient with the greatest care and respect.

Albus had been there about a week. He had been ill for a little while longer, but in his usual fashion, he had carried on with life for as long as possible, only conceding to the illness when he had no other choice. It wasn't really an illness you could pinpoint. It was simply old age finally catching up with him, as he always knew it would.

Today he had a visitor. In truth, he did on most days as people came to pay their respect to him. Albus felt a little as though he must have died already, as it seemed people were already in mourning for him as they traipsed in and out with solemn expressions on their faces.

Today was a little better though. Instead of the usual line of miserable, grey, elderly people, today he had more interesting, young visitors. Harry Potter sat dutifully beside the bed making as happier conversation as he could with his dying mentor. Now 25 years old, Harry was tall and broad shouldered. He retained his thick, messy dark hair, but wore it longer and he had grown a beard which made him look a little older than 25, but suited him none the less. His dress sense was a little odd, a mix of wizard and muggle influences, but he made it work in a casual, slightly rugged sort of way. Less awkward than he had been as a teenager, Harry still retained a little of his naive charm which Albus had always liked about him.

Harry had been there over an hour. It was not the first time he had visited. He, Ron and Hermione had all been to see Albus from the very day he was admitted. It was very good of them, although Albus did wish they wouldn't fuss quite so much. Hermione in particular had been most insistent about the room, the bed, the pillows... She meant well.

'I suppose I should leave now, professor and get back to work.' Harry said as the clock on the mantelpiece struck 2pm.

'Yes, yes, I suppose you should.' Dumbledore smiled. 'It will remain to be seen if minister Shacklebolt has managed to hold the place together in your hour and a half absence.'

Harry laughed.

'He will.' He said. 'Although sometimes it does feel like the place falls apart when I'm not there. Honestly professor, I work so hard some days, I hardly have the energy to cook dinner for myself in the evenings!'

'Careers can be like that, Harry. Especially at your age. Things will settle though. You are still quite new in your position as undersecretary.' Albus soothed.

'I'm sure you're right.' Harry smiled. 'I could maybe just do with a house elf to do some chores for me. My flat looks nearly as bad as when I lived with Sirius!'

Albus laughed gently.

'Well, that is quite an achievement!' He chuckled. 'Perhaps you do need someone more domesticated to look after you.'

'Maybe.' Harry laughed. 'I am trying.' He looked serious again. 'I'll come and see you again soon, professor.' He promised. 'But I'll leave you to rest now.'

'Don't worry about me, Harry.' Dumbledore smiled. 'I have not so much as got out of bed for two hours. I can assure you, I am quite well rested. And besides, I had correspondence this morning telling me to expect another visitor at 2pm. He may well be waiting.'

'Sorry professor, I didn't mean to keep you.' Harry apologised.

'Not at all Harry, not at all.' Dumbledore said cheerily. 'Perhaps you will see him in the waiting room and be so good as to send him in?'

'Of course professor.' Harry replied. 'I'll see you soon.' He assured as he shut the large oak door behind him as he left the room, his heart feeling heavy.

The next visitor. He should find him and tell him to go in. Harry turned to look around the room. Only one other person was there. They had clearly been sitting, waiting for some time but had stood up, fretful and anxious, when the door had opened.

Draco Malfoy. The 6 foot tall ice blond supermodel, impeccably dressed as ever, stood right before Harry in the hospital waiting room, clasping his hands together, his eyes shadowed and bloodshot.

'Malfoy!' Harry exclaimed. 'What are you doing here?' A harsh tone in his voice which had been unintentional.

'The same thing as you, I would imagine, Potter.' Draco said calmly, his voice less confrontational than Harry's had been. They were 25 now, for goodness sake! Was Potter really not over their high school rivalry? 'Still a total dick!' Draco thought to himself, but was self possessed enough not to let it show.

'Oh. Right.' Harry answered, blushing.

He hadn't actually meant to sound confrontational. In a flash, he remembered just why Malfoy might feel the need to visit the dying professor. While Draco had been at Hogwarts, he and Dumbledore had been lovers, if that was what you'd call it. Harry remembered accidently catching them together whilst creeping about under his invisibility cloak. The scene had scarred him for life! He felt awkward all over again and blushed a little deeper.

'Well, you can go in now.' Harry said, trying to sound a little friendlier.

'Thank you.' Draco said magnanimously and he stepped towards the door.

'Errr...' Harry began, feeling that he should say something else, but was unsure what.

Draco stopped and turned to face him.

'Yes?' He asked, anxiously. The sadness and nerves in his voice shocked Harry.

'Errr... Nothing. Just... It's, good to see you.' Harry concluded. His 15 year old self wanted to curl up in a ball. It was not good to see Malfoy, he just couldn't think of anything else to say.

Draco looked a little taken back, and felt a little like he didn't want to have to deal with Potters weird bullshit right now.

'Thank you, Potter.' He said politely. 'You as well.' He turned away and disappeared into Dumbledore's room.

Harry left as quickly as he could.

Draco nervously shut the door behind him and looked around the room. He was frightened. He didn't know quite what to expect.

'Hello Draco.' Albus's calm and kindly voice came from the bed.

Draco turned to face him and his eyes filled at once with tears.

'Why didn't you tell me you were sick?' Draco asked imploringly. 'I would have come sooner. I could have taken care of you!'

Albus smiled sadly.

'That is precisely why I didn't tell you, Draco. You have a life to lead. You don't need to be looking after an old man like me. Besides, it has only been this last week that I have needed any looking after, and I promise you, the staff at St Mungos have been doing a wonderful job.'

'I came as soon as I heard.' Draco said, his voice shaking. 'I would have come sooner, I was in New York... I only found out yesterday...' His voice seemed to give up.

'Come here, my Draco, and sit by me.' Albus said compassionately, gesturing to the chair beside his bed.

Draco simply nodded and hurried over, his grey eyes shining with tears.

'There, now Draco.' Albus soothed, taking hold of his hand. 'Please don't be so upset. You are here now, and it is truly wonderful to see you.'

Draco smiled weakly and squeezed his hand.

'It is wonderful to see you too.' He breathed. 'Although it only seems like yesterday that I saw you last.' He smiled. 'But it must be at least...'

'Six months.' Albus finished for him. 'Six months since we parted company, after yet another misadventure you managed to lead me into.' He smiled playfully.

Draco gave a tearful little laugh.

'I led you?' He asked coyly.

'You always did.' Albus replied and Draco laughed.

Albus began to laugh too, but then coughed harshly, clutching his chest for a moment.

Draco looked panic stricken and sat bolt upright. Did he need to get help?

But Albus settled again quickly and Draco offered him a glass of water which was beside the bed. Albus accepted, drank some and Draco replaced it, topping it up from a jug.

'Does it hurt?' Draco asked at last, the anxiety and concern written all over his face once more.

Albus thought for a moment.

'No.' He replied. 'No. It doesn't hurt. It's just body growing old.'

Draco's eyes were wet again.

'But we are more than just bodies, aren't we? What about your soul, your spirit? That's still strong, isn't it? You taught me about these things. People are not just about physical bodies, are we?' Draco almost pleaded.

Dumbledore smiled at him.

'That is true Draco. And yes, my spirit is just as strong as ever, never you fear. However, I can remember times when you and I were very much about our bodies!' He gave a playful grin and Draco blushed, laughing slightly through his tears.

'I remember too.' He confessed with a sad smile.

Dumbledore touched Draco's face affectionately.

'May I kiss you?' Draco asked nervously.

'You don't usually ask first!' Albus teased. 'Of course you may. I can think of nothing I'd like better.'

With that, Draco leant towards him and pressed his lips ever so gently over Dumbledore's, tenderly stroking the old man's lined face. Although Dumbledore's lips were thinner now than they had been, they still felt magical against Draco's and he held the soft kiss for five and a half seconds. There was no misunderstanding a kiss like that.

When Draco pulled back he looked a little calmer, Albus's kisses had always had that effect on him.

'Are you frightened?' He asked at last.

'No Draco.' Albus replied. 'I am not frightened. To the well organised mind, death is but the next great adventure.'

Draco frowned.

'I have had a wonderful life, Draco.' Albus smiled. 'I have had many blessings. You are one of my favourites.'

Eyes wet again, Draco smiled. Smiling and crying at the same time 'What a mess I must look!' Draco thought to himself. But Albus had never minded even when he looked a mess.

'Did you see Harry leaving as you arrived?' Dumbledore asked curiously, wanting to move the conversation away from death. Not so much for his sake as for Draco's.

'Err, yes. I did.' Draco replied.

'I expect it's been quite some time since you saw him?' Albus remarked.

'Well, yes, I suppose so.' Draco said. 'He's in the papers sometimes but it's years since I saw him in the flesh.' Draco sounded totally indifferent to this.

'Yes, he is doing very well for himself at the Ministry.' Dumbledore continued. 'Undersecretary to the minister himself.'

'Why are you telling me this?' Draco asked playfully. 'Are you trying to make me jealous that you like him best, like I used to be at school?'

Albus laughed. It was wonderful to see Draco again, it truly was.

'Why would you be jealous? I am reliably informed that you are some kind of famous international supermodel, Draco!' He teased.

'Yes, but to you I'm probably still a naughty schoolboy!' Draco teased back.

'In some of my fondest memories, yes, you are!' Albus replied. 'But in truth you are, and you always were, a wonderful, creative and bright young man. And so is Harry. It's a shame you two were never friends.'

'I've nothing against Potter these days professor.' Draco assured. 'We're grownups now. We may not be friends, but there's no bad feelings. Don't worry about it.'

'Oh, I won't.' Albus replied. 'I won't worry about anything. I just wish for those I care about to be happy, that's all.'

Draco smiled the saddest of smiles.

'I want you to be happy Draco.' Dumbledore continued.

'How can I be happy without out in my life?' Draco asked candidly.

'I want you to be out there, living your life. Finding your happiness. That's why I didn't tell you when I became ill.' Albus said. 'I have never wanted you to be tied down to me, you know that. I have never been able to offer you what you really deserve. All the time I am in your life you will never be able to find someone who can give you the life you want.' Albus told him.

'Someone my own age... So you keep saying!' Draco replied. 'I have tried, professor, you know that. It's never worked out for me has it?' Draco was not prepared to have this conversation with Albus again. He smiled. 'You're still the best I've ever had!' He concluded suggestively.

'You flatter me, Draco!' Albus replied, smiling. 'I appreciate it.'

'It is true though.' Draco added sincerely, holding his hand tightly.

'You are only 25.' Albus said calmly. 'You will meet someone perfect for you some day. It will probably be the very last person you expect, but you will discover that they are just right.'

Draco looked unimpressed.

'You don't like the idea of it being someone you least expect?' Albus asked.

Draco said nothing, but it was true, he didn't like the idea. If he had to meet someone, he would have liked a perfect person to come into his life and sweep him off his feet. Not to have to make do with someone he knew and didn't really like in that way. If he couldn't be with Albus, then why should he have to make another compromise?

'Ask yourself Draco, was I not, once upon a time, the very last person you would have expected to have had a relationship with? Yet alone a relationship which has spanned as many years as ours has?' Dumbledore asked.

Draco sighed and nodded.

'Yes, I suppose so.' Draco said. 'Anyway, I don't need to meet anyone. I'm really alright by myself at the moment. I've just bought a nice house in London and I'm going to live in England for a while.'

'Ah, you finally put some of your money into buying a property, did you?' Dumbledore smiled. 'Please, tell me all about it.'

Draco excitedly told Albus all about the beautiful house he had just bought, only weeks before he had left for New York a month ago. Dumbledore prompted him to describe each room in detail and Draco did so. Their conversation was lively and animated. Draco felt happy. It was only once he left the hospital it dawned on him that Dumbledore had wanted such a full description of the house because it was likely he would never actually get to see it.

It was raining when Draco left the hospital and he was grateful because that meant that no one could tell that his face was wet with tears.

"It is with the deepest regret and sadness that the Daily Prophet today reports the Death of Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, late headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Having been admitted to St Mungos hospital less than two weeks ago, Albus Dumbledore passed away peacefully in his sleep at around 3am this morning.

The news of his death will no doubt shock and sadden many throughout the Wizarding community. To reflect this, a public memorial service will be held at the Ministry of Magic, while a private funeral service will be held for his closest friends..."

Bleary eyed, Harry put down the newspaper and looked at Ron and Hermione. He had once again joined the couple for breakfast, this time by invitation, as Hermione didn't want him to be alone with the news.

'I can't quite believe it.' He said numbly.

'Neither can I mate.' Ron consoled. 'When we saw him last week, he seemed so cheerful and lively. Even though I knew he was ill, it didn't seem like he was.'

Harry nodded.

'I saw him 2 days ago. I just can't quite believe I'll never talk to him again.' His words failed him.

Hermione rested a supportive hand on his shoulder and sniffed.

'The funeral's in 3 days.' She said. 'Harry, you can come with Ron and I, of course. No one should have to attend a funeral alone.'

'Thanks.' Harry managed a tiny flicker of a smile.

Both Ron and Hermione had been enormously supportive of him these last few years. They had helped him through his divorce from Ginny and then though his most recent relationship break up, and the media backlash that had surrounded both.

Harry's famous parents had been a blessing and a curse on him all of his life. He had always been sort of famous and in the public eye just because he was their son. Winning the Tri-Wizard tournament hadn't helped either. He found it a little embarrassing to be honest, like he was famous for not very much at all, and he would so much rather not have been. Celebrity status afforded him very little privacy and in his naivety, he did not know how to manage the press well. He sighed. They would even be at the funeral, no doubt, taking photos of any famous mourners. It was most distasteful.

It was a beautiful service, or at least, that's what people were saying as they gathered outside the little church in Godric's Hollow. Harry always found it difficult to be here. It was where his parents were buried.

The mourners gathered around the grave as the soil was shovelled in over the top of the wooden coffin. There was quite a crowd to say it was supposed to be close friends only. It seemed that 'closest friends' had been defined by Dumbledore's lawyers at 'those who had visited him the most in hospital.'

Harry stared down at the coffin, his vision blurry through his tears. A single white rose dropped onto the coffin lid. Harry looked up to see who had thrown it, but with so many people crowded around, it was impossible to tell. Should he have thrown something? He didn't know what. He never knew the right things to do. He hated things like this.

When at last the grave was filled the mourners began to disperse. Harry knew a good many of them. There were many Hogwarts teachers of course, including Snape, who he had managed to avoid speaking to so far. Kingsley Shacklebolt was there along with many other Ministry officials. Harry felt a little uncomfortable openly grieving in front of his work colleagues. However, everyone had been very supportive. Hermione and Ron were there of course. Hermione was crying and Ron was holding her. Harry decided it was appropriate to stand at a distance.

'Hello, Mr Potter.' A familiar Scottish accent hailed him. It was professor McGonagall, and Harry turned to greet her. Her voice had been immediately recognisable, although it was less commanding and more shaky than Harry had heard it before.

'Hello professor.' He greeted her with a warm handshake.

'It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr Potter, even if it is under the most unhappy of circumstances.' She said kindly.

'And you, professor.' Harry replied.

'It was a beautiful service, don't you think?' She continued.

'I guess so.' Harry said. 'If these things can be beautiful.'

McGonagall smiled kindly and rested her hand on his shoulder.

'We must celebrate his life, Harry, not mourn his death. That is how he would want it. He had a wonderful life and he wanted the same for all of us. Albus was a very dear friend of mine and I will miss him terribly, but I know the last thing he would have wanted was to be the reason behind my sadness.'

Harry smiled at her. It helped. It actually helped to be able to have these conversations with others who knew him.

They stood in silence together for a few moments, watching as the great and good of the wizarding world said their goodbyes to the greatest wizard of their time. Suddenly McGonagall exclaimed,

'Good gracious! Is that Draco Malfoy over there?' She gestured to a tall slender figure at the far end of the church yard standing completely alone, watching the scene from a distance.

Harry squinted.

'Yes, I think so.' he replied.

'Goodness me!' McGonagall exclaimed again. 'I didn't expect to see him here. You'll forgive my inappropriateness Mr Potter, but I almost didn't recognise him with so many clothes on!'

Harry started for a moment. Just how many Hogwarts teachers had Malfoy slept with? Then Harry realised that professor McGonagall's comment related to the fact that one of Draco's most well known modelling campaigns had been for a somewhat provocative range of underwear. It was not uncommon to see pictures of a scantily clad, smouldering eyed Draco Malfoy in magazines and on billboards. Harry had always tried his best not to notice.

'I think it's him.' Harry offered. 'I saw him at the hospital too.'

McGonagall was about to reply when Cornelius Fudge appeared.

'Hello Minerva, my dear.' He said. 'And Harry, of course. Beautiful service, wasn't it? Minerva, would you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the wake?'

McGonagall smiled and nodded.

'Of course, Cornelius. Thank you.' She replied. 'I will see you later Mr Potter.'

'See you later.' Harry answered, and he watched them walk away arm in arm and suddenly felt very conspicuous standing on his own. He glanced back at Malfoy, the only other person who was alone in the church yard, and frowned.

Ron and Hermione approached him, Hermione over the worst of her tears.

'You alright mate?' Ron asked him.

'Yeah... I guess...' Harry answered distractedly. He was watching Malfoy. Malfoy had sat down on a bench, alone. He leant on the arm of the bench and rested his head in his hand. He was completely alone. 'No one should have to attend a funeral on their own...' Hermione's words echoed through Harrys mind.

'Are you ready to go to the wake?' Ron asked, keen to get away from churches and graves.

'Errr... You guys go on. I'll catch you up.' Harry replied, still watching the dark figure in the near distance.

Hermione looked concerned.

'Really.' Harry assured them with an attempt at a smile. 'I'm fine. I just want a few moments here alone, you know.' He glanced towards the corner of the church yard where his parents were buried.

'Oh, I understand.' Hermione replied. 'We'll see you there.' She hugged him.

'Thanks.' Harry said.

Harry watched them walk away for a couple of seconds before he turned his attention back to the bench where Malfoy sat. He was as still as a statue and was still completely alone. Not entirely sure what he was doing, Harry walked slowly over to the bench as the last remaining mourners departed for the wake.

He didn't know what he was going to say, or even why he was going to say anything at all. Perhaps he wanted to make amends after he had been a little hostile, albeit unintentionally, at the hospital?

He was only a couple of feet from Malfoy now, and Malfoy still hadn't moved. Harry coughed loudly.

The noise shocked Draco and he jumped and turned round to see who was there. Harry stared at him. Draco was head to toe in black, but this was normal for him. He wore an unusual wide brimmed hat, with a veil which covered part of his face. It was the sort of thing that would have looked ridiculous on most people, but somehow looked impossibly elegant on Draco. On seeing Harry, he lifted the veil from his face. Harry was startled. Malfoy had been crying!

'May I join you?' Harry asked, sounding calmer than he felt.

'Of course.' Said Draco politely.

Harry got the feeling that Draco's work and his good breeding probably meant that he was able to be polite even when he didn't want to be. It was impossible to know if he actually wanted to tell Harry to fuck off. Harry thought back to their school days for a moment and decided that if Draco didn't want him there, he would probably have said so!

Harry sat down.

'It was a beautiful service, wasn't it?' He said almost automatically as this seemed to be the thing that people said in this situation.

'I suppose so.' Draco managed. A tear rolled down his cheek.

Harry panicked. Malfoy really was crying. Ok, there was history there, but it was 10 years since Malfoy left Hogwarts. What exactly had gone on between Malfoy and Dumbledore?

Realising he had tissues in his jacket pocket, Harry took out the pack and offered one to Malfoy.

'Thank you.' Draco said, taking one and drying his eyes.

'I can't quite believe he's gone.' Harry offered, knowing how much it had helped him to have friends to talk to. 'I saw him only two days before he died.'

'Yes.' Draco replied, staring forward into space.

'Did you see him again, after the day I saw you?' Harry asked, trying to draw Draco out a little. He didn't know why. His 15 year old self was staring, open mouthed like he was insane, but the kind hearted part of him couldn't possibly leave someone alone, in tears, in a misty graveyard.

'Yes.' Draco answered again. And then, after a pause... 'I was with him.'

'You were, with him? What? When he...?' Harry stopped.

'Yes.' Said Draco again.

Draco was unsure why he was telling Potter this, perhaps it was because he just needed to tell someone, and Potter was one of only a very small number of people who knew about him and Dumbledore.

'I didn't know.' Said Harry slowly. 'The papers said he was asleep.'

'He was.' Said Draco numbly. 'It was very peaceful.'

'What happened?' Harry asked, part of him feeling bad that he had not been there with Dumbledore in his final moments.

'I was with him all evening.' Draco began. 'We had been talking, about cheerful things, nothing deep or heavy. We talked about Rome, because I had been there a few months ago. He liked it there.'

Draco paused and wiped away another tear.

'We talked for ages, about such stupid stuff really, coffee, restaurants, things like that. Eventually he got tired. I...'

Draco paused and swallowed a deep sob.

'I watched him fall asleep.' He managed.

Harry too, felt his throat tighten.

'I watched him.' Draco continued shakily. 'I was honestly about to fall asleep myself... It was only when I realised that I couldn't feel his breathing... Couldn't hear... his heart beat...'

Draco covered his face with his hands and sobbed deeply.

Harry's green eyes glistened with tears and he felt ashamed. He didn't know what to do. He reached over gingerly and touched Draco's shoulder in an attempt to be supportive. Harry then realised what Draco had said... 'Couldn't feel his breathing, couldn't hear his heartbeat...' Draco must have been laying beside him, with his head on his chest, at the very moment he died!

'I'm so sorry.' Harry whispered. Whatever there had been between Malfoy and Dumbledore it was clearly far more significant than Harry had ever imagined.

'I'm sorry.' Draco replied, composing himself. 'I'm sure you only came over here to be polite, you don't want to hear all my troubles.'

'I came over because no one should have to be at a funeral on their own.' Harry offered.

'Thank you.' Draco said. It was a wholehearted 'thank you', not simply a polite one.

'I know this church yard well you know.' Harry said, sensing Draco's vulnerability. He decide to disclose something personal to him in return. 'My parents are buried here.'

'Are they?' Draco asked with what sounded like genuine concern. 'Where?'

'Over round the other side of the church.' Harry replied.

'I'm sorry.' Draco said sincerely, looking at Harry properly for the first time.

'I never knew them.' Harry replied. 'My Godfather bought me up. I was lucky to have him.'

'Sirius Black.' Draco replied. 'He's my mother's cousin. Is he here today?'

Harry had forgotten the family connection.

'He'll be at the wake. He couldn't make the service.'

'I've never met him.' Draco said thoughtfully. 'My parents didn't approve of him, but then, they don't approve of much. Me included.'

'Well, I can see how some of your work might not please your father!' Harry smiled, hoping this was not insensitive. To his relief, Draco smiled too.

'You enjoyed my underwear shots, did you, Potter?' He asked. There was something of the sharp witted 'old' Draco in his voice, but without the unpleasantness.

Harry laughed.

'Half the wizarding world enjoyed your underwear shots, Malfoy!' He replied with a smile.

Draco laughed and then smiled sadly. He sighed.

Harry decided to change the subject.

'Snape was here earlier, did you see him?' He asked.

'Yes, we spoke briefly.' Draco replied. 'I think he was surprise to see me here.'

The penny dropped in Harry's brain. Everyone was surprised to see Malfoy here. He, Harry, was one of the few people who actually knew why Malfoy was here. That, in itself must be kind of hard for Draco to deal with. But just what was it that Dumbledore had meant to Malfoy? Harry was rapidly realising that his assumptions from their school days were incorrect. Whatever had been between Malfoy and Dumbledore was clearly more than 'just a bit of fun'.

'Snape didn't speak to me.' Harry offered, trying to make Draco feel a little better. 'Was he ok?'

'He was sad, and a little be shocked. I suppose we all are, aren't we?' Draco said quietly. 'I just can't quite believe I'll never see him again, never talk to him, never...'

He stopped, whether out of embarrassment of emotion, Harry didn't know.

'It's not like I saw him all the time, but he was always there, in my life. Always there when I needed someone. Someone to be kind to me, or to talk some sense into me. Whatever I needed he was always there. I don't know what I'll do without him.' Draco said quietly.

A chill swept over Harry, something between sympathy and empathy.

'Were you in love with him?' Harry asked candidly.

Draco smiled, closed his eyes, and thought for a moment.

'Yes.' He said at last. 'Yes, in a way, I suppose I was. It was impossible not to be really.'

He paused, and it gave Harry a moment to digest the reality of his answer. 'Yes... I was...'

'Don't misunderstand me, Harry...' Draco began. 'I always knew that he and I would never have some kind of fairy tale ending together. Our relationship was what it was, but yes, I did love him. We loved each other, in our own way.'

Harry was both shocked, and not shocked at the same time. Part of him had known this to be the case since the moment he had set eyes on the tearful Draco at the hospital. But hearing it said out loud was still slightly shocking. Malfoy had loved Dumbledore and what's more, Dumbledore, it seemed, had loved Malfoy!

'I didn't know.' Was the only answer that Harry could find.

Draco smiled sadly.

'Very few people did. Actually, Potter, you knew a lot more than most. I suppose that's why I'm telling you this now.'

'Can I ask you something?' Harry said at last, after a long silence.

Draco nodded.

'Were the two of you together in the Tri-Wizard year?' Harry had always wondered!

Draco looked down at his hands which were clasped in his lap. He smiled.

'Yes, most nights.' He replied, blushing.