Hello, Readers :)
So, I really wanted Gryffindor Golden Boy Harry James Potter to rub off on our Slytherin Prince so that we can be blessed with a delightful "fuck it, I don't care" Draco. This is the product of those desires.

Summary: Draco isn't coping well with turning his back to the Dark, and a confident, easy-going Harry Potter decides to drag him out of his shell and help him through.
Warnings: M/M and F/M relationships, scenes of a sexual nature, language, prejudice and discrimination, some bashing, and a dramatic Snape thrown in for good measure (because that's my favourite Snape, and it should be yours too).

###

Harry was in the library working on his first assignment of the year, his sixth year. Ron and Hermione sat opposite him, their hushed bickering serving as white noise as he twirled his quill and sat back in his chair, only half focused on the charms essay before him. His gaze kept being drawn across the room towards a bent over head of long, platinum locks that swayed slightly as their owner worked on their own essay. As if feeling the weight of his stare, Draco looked up, offering him a confused, tentative, small smile before his eyes once again became downcast. Harry shook his head slightly in awed amusement when he realised that Draco's quill had not stilled in its quick movement over his parchment during the whole interaction. Harry discarded his own quill, allowing himself a small break as he dropped his head into his arms, mind drifting off into the memory of his last interaction with the Slytherin.

It had been the day before, and Harry had been out wondering the castle during a free period, feeling restless after a long summer of hard labour and chores at the Dursley's. He had accidentally stumbled across Draco crying quietly in Myrtle's bathroom. When their eyes met through the cracked reflection of the dirty mirror, Draco had broken down in front of Harry, clinging to the loose fabric of his school robes as he confessed everything. Harry had been shocked to hear of Voldemort's plans to initiate Draco into the Death Eaters, forcing the Malfoy heir to watch muggles and muggle-borns be tortured and setting him the task of killing Dumbledore. He hadn't voiced his surprise, choosing instead to offer softly spoken support and understanding. He had held Draco close, running a soothing hand over his spine and whispering reassurances in his ear.

Once Draco had calmed, Harry had practically dragged him to the Headmaster's office, coaxing him to spill the story to Dumbledore. Harry had nearly socked Dumbledore when the headmaster just smiled a wistful smile, telling them that he already knew of the plans and what Draco had been through.

He had only been stopped by the frantic, darkly powerful form of Severus Snape entering the office, seeming to have somehow overheard the entire conversation. Snape had ignored the two sixth years and slammed both hands onto Dumbledore's desk, pleading with the elderly wizard to keep Draco safe and away from the Dark Lord's clutches. Harry was shocked to see the usually calm and cold man begging so openly for someone else's sake, fear and desperation clearly etched into the pale face.

"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. Our young Draco here will be just fine, Severus," Dumbledore addressed him with a sweet voice and a twinkle in his eye.

"It's not that simple, Albus," Snape bit out, "The Dark Lord will know that Draco has betrayed him. Don't give me that look, he will know, he always knows. Even if Draco doesn't join the Light and stays neutral, he is a threat, a traitor. And traitors are always…eliminated. He has forces everywhere, Albus. To guarantee Draco's safety just because he is at Hogwarts is both foolish and naïve."

Harry could almost feel the panic rolling off the body beside him in waves, and so he decided to step closer, blindly reaching out his hand. He didn't take the other's; it was just a silent show of support, an unspoken offer, but his own skin burned a little warmer when long, cold fingers gripped his. He shuffled closer, linking their fingers together.

Dumbledore glanced to the two boys, so quickly that Harry would have missed it if he hadn't been paying close attention to the man's every word and move. "I assure you," Dumbledore continued, once more addressing Snape, "Draco will come to no harm inside these walls. Beyond the usual petty squabbles of children, that is."

"Albus, that is rid-"

"Severus, my boy, I give you my word."

"That is not enough!" Snape yelled, hot fury spiking his tone. Harry felt the hand in his tremble at the angry outburst and gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze as the professor continued, "Your word is not enough, Albus, not any more, not since…" Snape glanced over his shoulder at Harry, his eyes locking with his for a moment as if searching for something. He turned back to the headmaster with a deep sigh, "You've given me your word before and it wasn't enough. Draco is all I have left. I need more."

Dumbledore steepled his hands together before him, elbows placed neatly on the desk as he leaned forward with a kindly smile. He didn't appear in the slightest bit fazed by Snape's temper. "I think between the two of us, Severus, we will be able to keep an eye on the boy and his safety. If my assumptions are correct, I think Harry here is also willing to," bright, intelligent eyes dipped down to the interlocked fingers of the two students, "Lend a hand in assuring Draco's wellbeing."

Harry thought Draco might pull away from him in embarrassment, but when the pale hand never slackened its strong hold he gave a resolute nod towards the professors. He wasn't entirely sure what he was agreeing to, or the magnitude of his promise, but he knew that after all he had heard he couldn't abandon Draco. He heard a small, almost relieved breath escape the thin, pale lips of the boy beside him and his resolution strengthened.

"So, that's the plan, is it?" Snape's voice was an icy, vicious drawl, "We'll offer him some brief protection at meals and in my classes, maybe spare him a nod in the halls, then what? Leave the rest up to the great Harry Potter? An idiot with a hero complex that not only hates Draco and has actively sought to cause him harm in the past, but who also struggles to keep himself alive on a year to year basis, let alone those around him. There is always at least one of Potter's little friends in the hospital wing at any given point in time, and Potter himself might as well have a permanent bed there."

"That's not fair, godfather," Draco murmured quietly. He didn't turn to look at Harry, knowing that seeing the surprised, awed look on his face at Draco defending him might crumble his resolve. He met Snape's eyes straight on, not blinking, willing the man he considered family to understand, "He may hate me, but he's still here, isn't he? I trust in that. At any point he could have interjected, refused, even gotten angry at the burden that the headmaster is proposing to put on his shoulders. And yet, he is still here."

Harry nodded dully, a throbbing ache still in his stomach at the potions master's words. The man had summed up all of his fears, insecurities, and darkest truths in a matter of moments. The names and faces of all the people he had sworn to protect but ultimately failed swam through his mind. He sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he met Snape's eyes with a steely determination. "You are right, sir," He spoke calmly, with a strength he didn't know he possessed, "A lot of people have been hurt because of me. But I always try my best, and I always keep my promises. I promise that I will try to keep Malfoy safe, to the best of my ability, for as long as he is willing to accept my promise, and for as long as he is willing to accept…" He trailed of, turning slightly to meet grey eyes with a small, almost tentative smile, "as long as he is willing to accept me."

"You don't have to do that, Potter," Draco murmured, his voice barely carrying in the quiet room.

"I know. But I will anyway." Harry's smile grew slightly wider, more goofy, and a lightness filled his eyes, "Just don't go trying to get yourself killed, alright? Look after yourself, make the trials and tribulations of saving your arse as easy as possible, 'kay?"

"Prat."

"Git."

"Enough, boys, and mind your language," Dumbledore called out, but there was no reprimand in the indulgent look he was giving them, as if watching two children fight over the last biscuit. "Harry has made a valid point. Draco is also a very capable wizard, one of the best in his year, and I have no doubt he will grow into a fine and powerful young man. I think you may be underestimating his ability, Severus," Dumbledore nodded to the professor in question, "Even without all of us, I would speculate that Draco is more than capable of handling any problems he may face at Hogwarts."

Snape looked as if he was about to object, but his mouth snapped shut with an audible clicking of teeth. He knew the headmaster was right; Draco was a rather exceptional student and his father had seen to it that he was more than able to hold his own, or at least put up a good fight, against potential enemies. He blinked slowly, his shoulders dropping slightly in defeat, "This is the end of this conversation, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

###

The golden trio entered the Great Hall in a bubble of light-hearted energy and laughter. Harry reflexively glanced around the Hall, a habit he'd developed to simultaneously smile and wave at friends he passed and suss out who was looking to cause him trouble. His eyes fell on the Slytherin table, his smile dropping to a frown. He watched Draco, the slender body hunched low in his seat, not bothering to so much as touch the food before him. He saw the whisperings and subtle pointing aimed at the blonde by his housemates, and the not so subtle louder taunts and 'accidental' knocks. His frown deepened, and he gestured for Ron and Hermione to head on towards the Gryffindor table without him.

Draco didn't notice as Harry made his way over to him, his quick reflexes the only thing stopping him from jumping three feet in the air when a warm, heavy hand clapped down onto his shoulder. "You okay, Malfoy?" Harry asked cheerfully.

"I don't need your help, Potter."

"Good, because I wasn't offering it. I was merely asking if you're okay, Malfoy."

The tension didn't leave Draco's shoulders as he felt hateful eyes burning into him and his unwanted companion. "I'm fine, Potter," He muttered stiffly.

"Enthusiastic as ever. May I sit with you?"

Draco swivelled his face up to look at the looming figure, staring at Harry as if the brunette had just asked him to elope in Vegas. His voice came out in a strained, forced-calm tone, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Alright," Harry agreed easily, "Come and sit with me instead, then."

"Again, not your best idea, Potter. Maybe you're asking a little too much of your brain's functional capacity?"

Harry shrugged in that same easy, and Draco thought infuriating, way of his, a soft, noncommittal smile on his face, "Well, whatever, it's just an offer. You can sit here glaring at your potatoes or sit and glare at me as we talk about quidditch and how I'm going to beat your arse in the upcoming match. Do what you want, it's your choice."

And with that Harry was gone, slipping into the crowd and heading to his own table. Draco was left gaping at his back, eyes wide. He swivelled his legs out from under the table and pushed up off the bench in a single graceful movement, storming his way over to the Gryffindor table. He must have had quite the look on his face as Neville Longbottom squeaked when he saw him approaching, scooting up the bench, allowing a good amount of space next to Harry. Draco angrily filled that space, making sure to clearly show his disdain and jab Harry with his elbow as he lowered into the seat.

"There is no way you are beating me in the next match, scarhead."

Harry just smiled at him dopily, "Are you talking prophetically, or statistically? I don't suppose it matters, you're wrong, either way."

Draco snatched up a fork and prodded it lightly into Harry's arm, but with enough force to make the boy raise his hands defensively. Draco took the opportunity to steal Harry's plate, sliding it before himself. He speared a piece of salad with his new weapon and gestured with it towards Harry, "Big words for such a tiny brain. Did that bookworm friend of yours finally shove a dictionary down your ineloquent throat?"

Harry glanced across the table at Hermione, not caring about the shell-shocked look on her face as he turned back to Draco with a playful smirk, "No, it was a thesaurus," a wink, "And she shoved it up my arse."

A sharp cough erupted from the blonde and he thumped his chest, hard, choking on the mouthful of lettuce he'd just swallowed. Harry just stared at him, a single eyebrow raised, but his calm, innocent facade could only last so long and a small chuckle escaped his lips as Draco struggled to regain his composure.

"That'll teach you for stealing my food," Harry stated with a flash of teeth before reaching out to slowly assemble himself another plate.

"I'll remember that for next time."

"…Next time?"

"Fuck off, Potter."

###

"What are you two going to work on?" Harry asked Hermione and Ron as they entered the library after their final class of the day.

They were only in their fourth week back at school, but the workload had soon begun piling up. Hermione was determined to drag Ron and Harry along to all her private study sessions after they had barely managed to scrape through fifth year. Harry had shrugged and agreed; McGonagall had also told him to focus more on his studies or give up on a career as an Auror. Ron was more reluctant but had soon realised no amount of grumbling would make his best friends change their minds.

"The Transfiguration reading McGonagall set yesterday," Hermione breathed out as she managed to dump her textbooks forcefully yet neatly atop a free table.

Harry sighed, "I've already done it; I couldn't sleep last night, so I thought I might as well be productive. I've made notes, and I think I understand the principle fairly well." He glanced around the quiet room, his gaze falling on a familiar face, "But one thing I don't understand is the effects of using different rose species in brewing Amortentia. Malfoy seems to be working on that paper now, I'll go study with him."

Hermione frowned, concern clearly evident on her face, "You're not sleeping again? How come, are you having nightmares? Is the dormitory too loud? You know, I read this article over the summer about light pollution and how blue light specifically can…you're not listening to me, are you?" She huffed out an annoyed breath when Harry's eyes refocused on her from where they'd been staring blankly into the middle distance, "You really should take better care of yourself, Harry."

"Yeah, I will."

She rolled her eyes; she was far too intelligent to believe his words were a promise and knew a losing battle when she saw one. Her own eyes drifted to where Draco had his nose buried in a book, "Are you sure it's a good idea to ask Malfoy to study with him? It's one thing for you two to have the occasional civil conversation and not tear each other's throats out, but this might be kicking the figurative hornet's nest just a little too hard. He seems rather busy, and you do have a knack for drawing the worst sides out of each other. I don't mind helping you with any potions problems you have."

Ron looked pained as he jumped into the conversation with a moan, "Hermione, I need you to do my work more than Harry does. If he wants to go be a nerd, then let him do it."

"I am not doing your work for you, Ronald," Hermione clipped, her tone portraying her annoyance but staying quiet enough to not draw Madam Pince's scowl with practiced ease. "And since when are you supportive of Harry studying? You've been fighting him all term. Not to mention you've been adamant to show your displeasure whenever Malfoy's name has been brought up. I thought you'd hate Harry studying with him."

Ron's sheepish look turned to a crooked grin, "Well, we all know it's not going to work out. They'll end up fighting like always, and it might be some entertainment from how dull everything is this year."

Harry just yawned and shrugged, "Yeah, maybe, whatever, we'll see." He turned and headed towards Draco's table with a softly called, "Bye, guys."

He dropped his bag at the end of the otherwise empty desk. Falling into a seat beside Draco, he rummaged for his own books and parchment with a casual smile as if this were an everyday occurrence for the two, "Hey, you're working on potions, right?"

"Yes, Potter, and I gather you are too, judging by the rather loud and grating conversation you were just having with Mr and Mrs Weaselby."

"Their names are Ron and Hermione, or Weasley and Granger, if you'd prefer. You should know that by now, it's been six years. Or had you forgotten all this time and you've just been too embarrassed to ask them again?"

"Piss off."

Harry grinned, pulling Draco's library book closer so they could both read it. He raised an eyebrow challengingly when Draco narrowed his eyes at him, feeling smug when the blonde gave up with a sigh.

"So, if you're determined to disrupt my privacy and inflict me with your presence, at least make yourself useful," Draco quipped, but his tone held a certain note of defeat that marred the malice into something almost softer. "Thoughts on Hulthemia versus Platyrhodon?"

The two worked surprisingly amicably, and before they knew it, books were being closed and finished assignments were being rolled up and pushed away. The conversation continued to flow into a discussion of the next potion they were due to brew in class. A slip from Draco about how he missed Snape teaching reminded Harry that Draco was the professor's godson, and he bravely initiated small talk and light-hearted anecdotes of their childhoods and families.

They both looked up when a loud tutting noise caught their attention, smiling from Harry's rather dramatic retelling of locking his cousin in a zoo enclosure and setting a giant snake lose in a muggle crowd. Shock fell across their faces when they saw Madam Pince tapping her foot and looking pointedly at the clock.

"It's dinner already?" Malfoy asked, frowning at Harry in confusion, but a smirk grew when the strict librarian walked away, "My, Potter, I'm going to have to keep an eye on the clock next time, before you manage to make us miss meals with your incessant talking."

"…Next time?"

"Fuck off, Potter."

###

To Be Continued (within 48 hours).

Happy Reading,
Love,
Bambi x