AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! Short drabble written for The International Wizarding School Championship Grammar School! Drarry if you squint...

School: Mahoutokoro

Year: 4

Grammar School Theme: Complex Sentences

Wordcount: 891

Draco and Harry lived together in a little house-a cottage, really-and Draco was comfortable. Not just with the place, but with Harry. Strangely enough. A lot had happened since the war... At some point, the Weasel and Hermione had married and, now, they had four adorable children. One biological; but then, as Hermione told it, she was not going to go through that pain again. So, they'd adopted the others. Kids like Harry who lived with muggles or with abusive parents. He could see, now, why they'd practically adopted Harry as eleven-year-olds without even realizing what they were doing.

Astoria and Draco had been good while they'd lasted. It took one fight to break them up, though, and Draco couldn't help thinking that they must not have been that in love in the first place. Harry said the same thing, though he and Ginny had lasted significantly longer. He'd been different after the war; at least, that was what he said. Draco hadn't been there. He couldn't really imagine Ginny ever being upset with Harry, but he'd caught whispers between the redhead and Hermione when he'd first arrived.

Distant.

Emotionless.

Quick tempered.

Haunted.

Draco could remember the words clear as day even though it'd been almost a year ago. And she hadn't been wrong-Harry was all those things, and worse sometimes-but Draco didn't mind because he was the same way and they managed to put up with each other. Ginny had met some quidditch player from Scotland and they'd gotten married. Harry never seemed bothered by that, though.

Now, he and Harry had found a strange sort of rhythm together. As Draco settled onto the couch beside the brunet, he couldn't help studying him. Harry had just gotten home from work. He was tired, Draco could tell, and stressed out but Draco didn't know what to do so he just observed the brunet until his eyes caught the scar on Harry's hand. I must not tell lies.

"May I?" It wasn't unusual for them to do this: little touches to specific scars paired with that question. He was asking if he could use occlumency and see the memory. Normally, Harry would have given him a sad little smile and just nodded but this time he stiffened. And shook his head. Draco couldn't imagine why, though, because they'd never held back on memories before. Not even cruciatus or killing curse memories. For a second, Draco could have sworn that Harry looked scared, as if the blond was going to invade his mind with or without permission, but then it was gone. Again, Harry shook his head.

"I'll tell you about it, but no." But Harry stumbled and stuttered and finally he just threw his head back. "Screw it. Just watch the memory." Draco hesitated, but Harry didn't look like he was going to change his mind. Gently, he reached out to touch the brunet's temple. It wasn't necessary, per se, to touch him in order to see the memory but he wanted to, and it would make it more vivid.

Umbridge's office greeted him with a wave of nausea. Draco wasn't surprised. He knew the quill and he had a few scars from it himself. The familiar moving cats blinked at him as if they knew he wasn't supposed to be there, but he ignored them. His attention was on Harry. He'd stopped writing, the words already carved into his flesh, and he was glaring so hard at the desk Draco though it might catch fire. Umbridge was speaking.

"Yes?" Harry stared at her with so much hatred and fear that Draco could feel it in the air itself. He wanted to reach out, to comfort or help somehow, but he knew he couldn't do anything, so he stayed still and merely watched. His hand still drifted towards Harry's shoulder, though.

"Nothing."

"That's right. Because you know, deep down, you deserve to be punished. Don't you, Mr. Potter?" Her voice sounded sadistic, like she found nothing quite as savory as Harry's pain, and
Draco wanted to throw up. The sentence was already scratched into Harry's hand. But it was Umbridge's words that put that unsteady kind of anger in the brunet's face and he looked, just for a second, like a scared little kid. When Draco broke the bond and returned to reality, Harry looked sick and was staring at the floor.

"You don't… believe her. Do you?" Harry just avoided his eyes. He was prepared to wait him out, however, and the silence thickened until Harry finally snapped.

"Drake, you know that isn't-"

"Do I deserve to be punished, Potter?" Harry went quiet, both at the last name and at
the question itself. "I tortured people. I made my peace with it, thinking anything was better than murder, but then I killed Dumbledore. Dumbledore, Harry! Are you really doing to sit here and tell me that you deserve punishment more than someone like me?"

"That was diff-"

"No, it wasn't." Draco had won the battle-at least for now-and both men sank back into the couch as they felt the tension fade away.

"You don't deserve to be punished, Drake." There it was. A final stand from Harry. The brunet slipped, just for a moment, and let a little bit of that typical, Gryffindor stubbornness show
through the cracks.

"Neither do you."

Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think?