A/N: Chapter two, a rather long one… Hope you enjoy!

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"This is amazing," Harry repeated as they climbed the marble set of stairs up to the third floor. They spent almost half the night plunging in the pool, lazing about in the Sauna or water-fighting in the steam-rooms and couldn't help but feel exhausted. Draco could only hum in agreement when Harry praised the beauty of his house. The raven-haired ran his hands along the wall as they walked towards Draco's room, to the end of the third-floor hallway. His eyes were abnormally wide with wonder, but he was careful not to touch anything of great value, Draco noticed. He would have said it aloud or at least laughed if he possessed the energy.

Draco felt a shameful pull of pride as he showed Harry into his room. It was huge, really, there was no other way to put it. It had a majestic double bed of about two and a half meters in both width and length – which could fit his entire family onto it without problem – in the middle of the opposite wall, and a white-leather sofa was transformed into a bed by the windows, for Harry to sleep on. There were large sliding mirrored doors along one side, which opened to two sets of tall, spacious wardrobe storerooms, and on the other side, were two enormous windows, leading onto a secluded stone balcony. One could easily climb out onto the roof, from where the entire field beyond their park was seen. The walls were a warm color of peachy cream and the rest of the furniture was in shades of gold and white. There were also large paintings on the walls, and Draco was proud to announce that all of them were his creation.

Harry gazed around with a smile that almost radiated amazement. "I love this house." He finally pronounced lamely.

Draco chuckled and fell onto the bed. "The house's good, no doubt. But try living here…"

Harry seated himself onto the bed and then lay down, as if not trusting it to be real. Then he lifted his slightly drunken gaze onto the blond. "Why? Do you not like it?"

"I do," Draco replied defensively before pausing to think. "But not all the time. Sometimes you just feel… locked up. You know, I end up spending my time either in here or in the park, avoiding my Father most of all," he gave out a dry laugh before realizing that Harry was regarding him somewhat seriously.

"I think you're rather lucky to live here." His placed his arms beneath his head for support. "To have parents who care for you and who must, by all means, love you a great deal." There was no envy in his voice, but a sadness that made Draco look up in surprise.

Then he realized. How could he be so selfish? He had a marvelous family, a magnificent house, a world-wide international education worth thousands and thousands of pounds that his parents could gladly afford – and he was complaining. He didn't have a right to complain. What did other children have compared to him? Some – almost nothing, and others – nothing at all. Literally nothing, while he could afford almost anything he desired. Even Harry didn't have that possibility. No magnificent house, it seemed, no money to pay off his immediate and foolish desires and a family that, by his words, wasn't of the best kind. Parents that rarely visited him, while he spent almost every holiday in his room at Hogwarts. Draco could hardly imagine how he could have survived a week without seeing his Mother's smile or the feel of her gentle hands when she stroked his hair in the living room, by the warm fire-

Draco closed his mouth shamefully and bowed his head. "I know," he sighed. "I know." And he couldn't say much else.

Harry's smile returned to its place instantly. "I'm not lecturing you," his eyes twinkled mockingly. "Just saying."

Draco smiled back and stretched across the dark-red covers of his bed. "I know," he repeated. "God, I am rather lucky," he smirked now.

Harry snorted and rolled across the bed, toweling his wet hair. Draco's eyes fell onto his back and he noted oddly to himself that he'd never seen Harry look so – so masculine in school uniform. Seeing him in different attire made him look alien – not as ordinary as he looked at school, when troops of juniors tracked him down the corridors, or when teachers addressed him politely in class, or when he sat in the back row of Mathematics, buried in his notebook. "Just saying," Harry repeated. He continued after a grim pause. "Myuncle and aunt would never let me sleep in this room. Even if theirs were ten times as large and beautiful."

Draco started slightly and turned to stare.

Harry's jaw clenched and he ceased breathing for a couple of moments, before rolling back onto his back and laying his head onto the covers with his hair spraying around his head. His voice was too indifferent to seem normal. "I was joking," he muttered, only a faint shadow of his usual grin striking uncertainly across his features.

"Right," Draco suppressed a suspicious remark and smiled. "Should we go to sleep? I'm exhausted."

He couldn't have seen it in his worst nightmares. Couldn't have possibly predicted it. Yet as unexpected as it came – it seemed perfectly normal. There he was – Potter – in all his glory, talking to him about school, politics and food. Talking all through Mathematics in the back row of the classroom. Chatting all through lunch break, while lounging by the Hogwarts fountain. Sitting together at lunch, surrounded by all Draco's friends. By the end of the week he was so used to talking to Potter that it seemed almost surreal to be around Pansy and Lavender again.

Weird. Really, it looked weird and felt weird. Not only Draco's friends were raising their brows whenever they encountered the blond talking to the social outcast Wonder-boy, but Draco himself was distrustful of his health. Potter was strange. He wasn't like others. He had his own views, strong ambition, and besides, was incredibly intelligent. He stood his ground, and perhaps, was a little too mysterious and silent at times – but whenever he spoke, Draco's couldn't help but respect the boy. Yes, he was still conservative and a little hesitant about personal subjects, and obviously very reserved around others. But bit by bit, he was taking his secretive layers off – and Draco could hardly believe that the ever-so-enigmatic Potter was opening up.

With that in mind, Draco went down on Thursday evening to his Father's office. He had an idea. Earlier in the month, Lucius proposed to take Draco and one of his friends to a rendezvous of old business partners, an important social event for London's business life. Draco had initially planned to take Pansy with him. The idea consisted of taking Harry instead. After all, he was a presentable guy, solid and serious – he seemed perfect for such gatherings. He was pretty sure his parents would find him charming too.

The golden handle seemed frighteningly cold in his palm. He gathered his courage with a decisive sigh, knocked on the door and pushed it open. A soft glow of an antique yellow lamp was the only light in the room; the windows were firmly shut and a thick smell of dust lingered in the air. Two large sets of wardrobes were stacked full with books and endless tomes of literature and encyclopedias. A thick dark-green carpet adorned the floor, and silver platters and shiny decorations stood out against the walls. This was the place he feared so much in early childhood. And frankly, not much has changed since then.

His Father was sitting in a leather armchair behind the wooden desk, his legs resting atop its surface and a laptop set on his lap. He didn't acknowledge Draco in any kind of way. Draco coughed purposely loudly and waited. When the blond man made no sign of recognition whatsoever, Draco spoke up.

"Father?"

"I heard you," he replied calmly, snapping his laptop shut. "What is it?"

Draco cleared his throat. "Well, first of all, I've brought you a report from Professor McGonagall. I passed my test with ninety-four percent and passed another quiz with ninety-seven." He handed his Father his Agenda tentatively. The man stared up at his son inquiringly, placing the book on his bureau without a blink of his grey eyes.

"And, well, I wanted to ask you – you remember when you said about that event in London this Saturday?"

Lucius nodded once, his expression not changing. "I remember."

"Well, I wanted to bring someone with me – you said it was fine - just a friend – a classmate," Draco added hastily.

Lucius regarded him with a frown and nodded. "Not Pansy I presume?"

Draco shook his head, feeling a sudden pang of guilt rise up to his chest. Was he really doing this? Pansy had wanted this trip so much. He could easily just bring her instead of taking Potter. He could even face her perpetual moans and complaints and tears and emotional talks about her undying love towards other boys, and face the fact that his Mother cuddled her face right in the restaurant and his Father spoke of her family's economical situation when she excused herself to the ladies' room. He could. But for once he admitted that he didn't want to.

"No it's not Pansy this time, Father. A boy. A classmate."

Lucius nodded gravely and picked Draco's Agenda from the table. "I'll have a look at this," he gestured to the door and nodded again, distracted by his own thoughts. "It's getting late and you're not in bed. Or is there anything elseyou'd like to ask?"

"No – er, thank you Father," Draco shook his head promptly and in swung the door open again, only to find Dobby – their servant – standing with a tray of tea and biscuits before him.

"Draco-"

"Wait a moment," Draco shushed and closed the door, exiting swiftly into the corridor. He blew out a breath of relief and shuddered albeit himself. The conversation went rather well compared to the usual amount of poking and screaming he got from his Father. Dobby seemed to understand as he gazed sympathetically at the blond. He himself was an elderly man, no less than sixty years old, with kind brown eyes and a sparkling boldness across his head.

"Your Mother had sent to find you," he said with a smile, watching as Draco munched on one of the biscuits anxiously. "She did say you weren't present at dinner and asked to bring you something to eat."

"God, I'm starving," Draco mumbled, reaching for another cookie. "Thanks for that, Dobby. You're finished for today aren't you?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Malfoy has dismissed me," he said watching the door of Lucius's office meaningfully. "So I'm off."

"Good night then," Draco said, still chewing his biscuit. An act his Father would most like scold him for if someone noticed.

Dobby beamed warmly, "Good night young Draco."

Draco watched the clock tick away slowly, leaving pointless seconds, minutes behind. Economics was coming to an end, he knew, but he just couldn't wait for it to end. So he stared at the clock, then compared it with the time on his white-gold Rolex watch and then glanced swiftly to the blackboard and back above Mr. Hott's head – onto the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"I don't get it," he heard Pansy mutter next to him, as she slid down in her chair.

Draco lifted a brow, glad for any distraction he could get. "What?"

"Why Potter didn't get laid on Blaise's party."

"What?" Draco looked at her confusedly.

She shrugged defensively and looked down, "Well, I saw him with that girl from Public School – the one with the skirt shorter than her belt," she scoffed disdainfully. "And even I tried to dance with him. All the girls were drooling over him," she whispered fiercely. Then she seemed to notice Draco's raised brows and gave out a girlish giggle. "Sorry. All I wanted to ask was whether he really did get laid or not."

Draco smiled. "You have a weird way of asking. Well, frankly I don't know. I don't think so."

"I hope he didn't." She bit her lip hopefully.

"Pansy – you slept with Blaise – for God's Sake! Why the hell do you still want Potter?"

Pansy's eyes rounded in horror and her gaze flickered to see if anyone heard. By their classmates' absent faces, hardly anyone was sober and alive enough to listen at all. "How did you find out?"

"I just did. And thanks for telling me," Draco added, not actually intimidated.

"Draco, I-" Pansy opened her mouth several times and shut it silently, gaping. "I was so embarrassed. I didn't want anyone to know. But now – now the entire school-"

"No one else knows, don't fret," Draco rolled his eyes. "But you could have told me. Couldn't have done any harm."

"I'm sorry," she had wide apologetic eyes. "I-"

"It's okay. Really. It happened. So what?" Draco shrugged and turned back to his previous activity – checking the time.

"I really am sorry. I meant to tell you but you went off with Potter and I thought he might somehow know it too-"

"It's fine, Panse. I'm not mad." When she didn't seem reassured enough, he squeezed her shoulder slightly. "I promise."

She seemed at a loss of words for a moment. "Draco-"

The bell rang shrilly and the sound of hundreds of footsteps above their heads and down on lower floors echoed loudly through the classroom. Draco gathered his books hurriedly and swung his Lacoste bag across his shoulder, ready to pounce out of the door. Pansy got up from her chair slowly, her expression uncertain, as she watched the blond. Draco was torn between listening to her apology and running out into the corridor.

"Listen, Panse-" he felt the familiar pang of shame rise upwards in his chest, as he watched her hopeful expression shatter. "I- gotta run. I'll see you during History."

"O-okay," she muttered, blinking up at him, as the rest of the class crowded at the exit. He leaned in to peck her cheek swiftly and almost sprinted out of the classroom. Pacing quickly through the corridors, crashing into people and earning worrisome, petrified glances from juniors, or middle-school pupils, he rushed to the library. By know he knew pretty well where to find Potter during break time.

He was right. Potter was buried in an anatomy encyclopedia, his hair dropping onto his forehead and brushing his cheeks in spiky fringes, his eyes flickering across the pages. Draco chucked his bag onto his desk and sighed to announce his presence. The raven-haired looked up, his usual mocking smile spreading across his tan features. "I thought you'd be in the cafeteria." Potter said, somewhat in between pleasant surprise and typical teasing.

Draco should have been in the cafeteria, where all his friends were – almost all his classmates from Lower Sixth, excluding a couple of so-called outcasts. Potter was considered a social Lower-Sixth outcast, and so was Millicent Bullstrode, along with her lanky friend whose name Draco always forgot for some reason. Yes, there were outcasts, the so-called second-hand goods of Hogwarts, just like in any other college. But on the contrary to other schools, the sophisticated intellectuals were of high-value in Hogwarts Academy, while the wanna-be American jocks were traditionally rejected. Stupidity was only allowed for special cases like Lavender, whose parents paid almost double price for her to remain at the Academy.

Draco chose to ignore his comment and settled more comfortably on the desk. He saw the librarian glance irritably at him, as everyone hushed and watched Draco admirably. "Are you doing anything this weekend?"

Harry lifted his head and inspected him oddly for a couple of long seconds. His gaze wavered between Draco's grey ones, as the familiar glitter arose behind the veil of mocking and arrogance Potter so professionally demonstrated in his green eyes. He wasn't sure what it was. Surprise? Curiosity?

"Nothing worth mentioning," Harry replied, still holding Draco's stare. "What about you?"

Draco broke out of the trance and blinked. "G-going to London."

Harry lifted his brows slowly, in a mirthful show of fake-shock. "Really?"

"Really," Draco said, suddenly doubting whether he should bother taking Potter at all. It seems those couple of days hadn't erased any arrogance and self-importance in him. He narrowed his eyes calculatingly. "I thought of taking you along."

Silence met his proposal, as the mocking glint disappeared to be replaced by real alarm this time.

Draco suppressed the urge to grin in triumph and continued. "It's a social gathering of my Father's businesss partners and friends. Lots of important people." When the raven-haired didn't answer, he added conversationally," It'd be cool to get out for a while. Plus, we're staying at Sheraton, which makes it easy to go out if we wish."

Another pause. His black hair drooped over his distrustfully narrowed eyes. "You want to take me to London?"

Well, smart ass. How did you ever get that? "You've caught the essential meaning," he pronounced with a wide smirk.

It looked as if the raven-haired debated between asking why and saying something sarcastic in response. After a pause, he settled on something funny to say. "Is there a swimming pool in the hotel?" His comment was followed by the original grin of his own, his eyes glittering with pure green mirth.

Draco's heart gave a jolt and he averted his gaze uncomfortably. Covering it with a cough, he pronounced an equally memorial remark, "Sauna too."

Harry stared at the blond, grinning. "Color me interested."

Draco was about to answer, when Ron and Hermione walked into the library, whispering softly to each other, with identical soupy expressions. The moment Hermione caught sight of Draco sitting atop of Harry's desk, chatting amicably, she ceased her talking and blinked confusedly. Ron stacked his books onto a table and nodded at Draco in greeting. Hermione whispered something to the red-head before making a beeline around the library sofas towards the blond. Harry fixed her with a challenging glare when she arrived at their desk, standing his ground.

"Hi," Draco smiled innocently, giving a small wave of his hand.

"Hi," Hermione echoed instantly, before leaning in closer to whisper. "Pansy was searching for you. She thought you'd gone to the library to work, because you were mad at her."

Draco had the temptation to roll his eyes, which he resisted. "I'm not mad at her."

Hermione shrugged, "She told me you were. But didn't tell me why."

Draco sighed. He could imagine the scene perfectly well: Pansy whining to Hermione with mascara and tears leaking down her cheeks. "Where is she?"

"Cafeteria." She shrugged again. She gave him a pitiful glance and nodded. "I'd go check on her."

"I will." Draco sighed and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. He was fully aware of Harry's eyes on himself for some reason, and titled his head back, exposing his neck purposely, while running a hand through the silky blond hair of his. He defied the urge to check whether Harry noticed.

"And Dylan wants you in his office before lunch. Apparently he wants Prefects to arrange an alumni evening or something," Hermione waved her hand conversationally, "And he also said you could cover Mrs. Sprout for Juniors this afternoon, 'cause she's sick."

"Oh God." Draco rubbed his face now. His only free period for the day had to be ruined. Bloody juniors. "Did he say anything about the organization of the Ball yet?"

Hermione shrugged, glancing down at her Monitor badge. "He relies on you for that one."

Draco covered his annoyance with a charming smile. "Okay. Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione smiled sympathetically, raising her bushy brows. "Good luck." She patted his shoulder encouragingly and strolled away, giving Harry a suspicious look.

Draco sat on the table, shoulders slumped and head bowed tiredly. Harry followed the bushy-haired girl warily with his eyes for a moment before averting his attention back to Draco. His voice was velvety and reassuring. "You do realize the entire Prefect and Monitor committee relies on you."

Draco lifted his gaze inquiringly. His tone was serious, unlike usually. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, so you don't realize." Harry fixed him with a reproving gaze. "As far as I'm aware, no other Prefect or Monitor gets that many duties or volunteers for so many events. You're the only one who works on that Prefect committee. Doing everything."

Draco rolled his eyes this time, "That's not true."

Harry shrugged and flipped his folder open, his expression calm. Draco frowned. Okay, so maybe he did work twice as much as Dylan, and maybe he did volunteer to participate in every school event, always being supportive and helpful. Maybe he didn't need to organize Spring Ball, because teachers were supposed to do it. But so what?

"You seize any chance to help. Give you something to care for…" He sighed and shook his head, a smile playing across his handsome face.

Draco raised his brows.

"What?" Harry shrugged again, defensively. "It's a good quality."

Draco shook his head in fake exasperation. "I have to go, attend to my patient," he rolled his eyes, "I'll see you after school, right?"

"Of course." It sounded so reassuring, Draco doubted that any natural disaster or terrorist attack would prevent Harry from coming. All the way to the cafeteria, Draco kept mentally returning to their conversation. Harry's words were like warm honey in his chest. "It's a good quality." For some reason he couldn't get rid of his velvety voice that rang sweetly in his ears.

Until, of course, he saw Pansy looking upset in the cafeteria. Pure acidic guilt pooled in his stomach as he paced quickly to their table. Lavender gave him a reproachful look, but the rest of them smiled as he emerged from the crowd. Draco rounded the table and kneeled next to Pansy's chair. "Panse? Listen, I'm not mad at you."

"I know." Pansy shrugged with one shoulder jerkily, facing the opposite direction. Her gaze searched for Lavender, who rounded her eyes back. The meaning of this was invisible to Draco, as he watched the mute scene.

"Then what's up?"

Another shrug and Pansy pointedly turned away, flicking her long light hair across his face. Draco reached a hand to his face and rubbed his forehead irritably. He chalked up the idea of just stomping out of the cafeteria and leaving her to dwell in her selfish drama, for he knew the consequences of that. He knew Pansy well enough.

"You want to know what's up?" Lavender crossed her arms fussily, as she inspected him. Brave girl. It was Draco Malfoy she was talking to, after all.

"Lav, please refrain from interfering. I'm sure you have nothing to do with this." Draco snapped, not granting her a glance. She flinched, but stood strong, clutching her arms tightly.

Pansy awarded Draco with a glare. "Just because you don't hang out with me doesn't mean you have to bitch at Lavender."

"Don't hang out with you?" Draco lifted his brows. "What?"

Pansy rolled her eyes and picked a strand of hair to fiddle with absentmindedly. "Hang out. Spend time with, you know? Be friends with-"

"You're saying we're not friends?" Draco rose up swiftly and stared at her in disbelief. When she looked down wordlessly, he continued, "Just because I went to the library-"

"Not only that," she rolled her eyes again, "but the fact that you're now chained to Potter. You ditch us after school. You ditch us during break."

A sudden flood of excitement pooled at the base of his stomach at Potter's name, but he dismissed it for annoyance. He couldn't think of anything coherent to say, as both girls glared at him, almost swelling with superiority. But it was essentially true. He was ditching his friends for the Sixth Form freak. Leaving them to themselves after school, while hanging out with Potter in the park or in the library.

"I'm not ditching you." He finally choked.

Lavender snorted and Pansy gave her a meaningful look. The "I-told-you-so" one. The bell rang above their heads and everyone pulled hesitantly towards the exit of the cafeteria. Seamus and Ginny approached them tentatively. "You guys coming?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Pansy lifted her chin proudly, as she glided across the cafeteria, hand in hand with Lavender. Draco watched their retreating backs, as did Ginny and Seamus.

"History?" Seamus suggested. Draci nodded and led the way back to class.

The rest of the day had remained blessedly uneventful. Pansy and Lavender vanished into the crowd the minute lessons ended. But guilt, remorse and secretive anger plagued him all throughout the afternoon and he couldn't get rid of them no matter where he looked or what he did.

Dylan tracked him down in the lounge after school apparently to schedule a Prefect Meeting. But, as Draco agreed wordlessly, he beckoned him closer and hushed in a quiet voice, "Have you started thinking about the Ball yet?"

Draco sighed. "No, not yet."

He did a double take, as his fingers twitched impatiently. "We don't have much time."

"True. We don't."

Dylan started. "Well. Think about it, okay? It's all I'm asking." He glanced down at his watch. "Better get going. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bastard," Draco cursed as he made his way to the locker corridor. He threw his bag in and kicked his locker shut. "All I'm asking! Fucking bastard."

"Finally something human from you. And here I thought you were inhumanly patient." The all-too familiar velvety voice sounded so sweet right now. Draco spun round to face the raven-haired boy hurriedly. He almost felt like hugging him. Some sort of consolation after a storm of emotions.

"This day's for shit," the blond muttered, bowing his head tiredly.

Harry snorted. When Draco didn't respond, he ruffled the blonde's hair. "Cheer up."

"Apparently I'm a bitch who ditches my friends," Draco exclaimed.

Harry laughed whole-heartedly. When a sneer sluiced over Draco's face, Harry's grin fell. "You were serious?"

Draco shrugged moodily. After a day full of blame and guilt, he just felt like pouting and moaning."Pansy's words."

"Jeez," Harry frowned. "How hypocritical."

"I'm just tired." Draco added, feeling like a whining baby. But he couldn't help it.

Harry laughed. He seemed to do it a lot lately – showing his pearly white teeth in a marvelous non-cynical smirk. It was surreally beautiful, Draco had to admit. "Let me show you something."

Draco lifted his gaze curiously.

"You've never been to my room before," Harry's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

"Day-students aren't allowed upstairs." But his comment was half-hearted.

"Who cares? You're the Prefect." He flashed him another grin and soon they were climbing the winding set of stairs up to the boys' dormitory. As they approached Harry's room, the raven-haired boy turned to the blond, "I live alone. So don't expect some nerdy roommate."

The room was decorated in simple colors – classic white and navy. The school curtains were pushed back and twisted behind a sheet of beautiful silvery and blue material that flowed from the very top to the floor. The carpet was also Harry's, for it wasn't one of the schools's faded brown, but a dark grey, soft and warm. A large painting with blurry figures in a hot orange desert, hung above the single bed. The sheets were a faded blue. A fresh smell lingered in the air – the odor Harry always carried – it soaked the furniture, was imprinted on the air. Harry's smell. Unique. Sweet.

All the while, Harry paced around the small room, talking and rearranging things in order. "I wasn't allowed to repaint the walls or redecorate the room entirely…"

"I like it. It's… peculiar. As in very – well – you."

"You think I'm peculiar?" Harry's mirthful eyes searched Draco's.

"Interesting. Different." Draco suggested. He ran his hand through the silky material of the curtains. "These are splendid."

Harry nodded, averting his eyes. He shoved them aside and pushed the window open. "We bought them when – when my Father and me were in India. I remember we brought Mother pashmina, all types of scarves from Cashmere. Something to remember for a lifetime…"

Draco surveyed the other boy for a moment, in silence.

"I've got a shirt from India too." He dug in his perfectly arranged closet and seconds later drag out a rich blue cashmere jumper. He handed it to Draco.

"Wow." Draco smiled, as he ran his fingers along the material. He had loads of cashmere back in Malfoy Manor, but certainly not in this wonderful color and certainly without the maddening scent of Harry's cologne. "I love it."

"Yeah?" A grin reappeared on Harry's face. "You can have it."

Draco started. "Oh, no – you take it-"

"Take it," Harry insisted, grinning. "Please."

Draco looked back and forth between the jumper and the raven-haired perplexedly. "Seriously – Harry, thanks, but-"

"I don't wear it, okay?" Harry closed his wardrobe shut and fell onto his bed. "It'd look good on you. Just take it."

Draco's heart gave a flutter, but he chalked it off as nerves. It must be nerves. Just a really tough day. Even so, he couldn't stop clutching the shirt to his chest and smelling the sweetness of its odor every few minutes for the rest of the evening. He wanted to rip off his school blouse and tie and snuggle into the jumper, but for some unknown reason the fear of losing the scent alarmed him.

For one, something was beginning to feel very, very wrong.

Lavender and Pansy were distant the rest of the week. The only way of communicating was by clandestine glares from both parties. He hated fighting, hated conflicts and wars, but he was to trudge through the situation albeit his reluctance. He knew Pansy would come running back to him, only this time it took strangely long.

Saturday had finally arrived, much to the relief of the young Malfoy. It meant getting away from Hogwarts for a couple of days, even with his parents as companions. The key advantage was having Harry around for two entire days. On Saturday morning Draco ran out to the porch of their Manor, trepidation swimming heavily in his stomach, to meet Harry. He carried an elegant black bag stuffed with clothes for the weekend and wore the same mischievous cynical grin as always. In fact it remained on his face for their entire journey, even as Lucius Malfoy extended his hand to greet the boy. Mirth never left those deep green pools.

The gathering went perfectly well. Everyone was positively charmed by the Malfoy radiance amongst all others, as always. A few drinks of a fancy cocktail had Harry talking politely with the evening's guests, as Draco chatted up Lucius's business partners skillfully. Socializing in that domain wasn't as easy, of course, but it turned out pleasant nevertheless.

They arrived at the hotel in time for dinner and decided it would be best to dine at a restaurant. As Harry disappeared in their hotel room, Narcissa beckoned Draco closer, "Why didn't you bring Pansy?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair jerkily. "I thought you'd want to meet someone else after all this time."

"Yes, well," Narcissa glanced at the door through which Harry left, "he's charming. But I thought you and Pansy-"

"No, Mum. Pansy and I were always just friends. Even so, I can't keep her company every single day, can I? Only girls and girls…"

"Of course, honey." She flicked her blonde hair back and straightened visibly. "Well, how do I look?"

"Fabulous, Mother. Young to pass for my sister," he grinned.

Harry was indeed charming all throughout the evening. He smiled, shook hands with guests, spoke in polite tones and acted a real gentleman before Draco's parents. The blond watched him with clandestine fascination. He had never seen him so… human and nice. It seemed now that he was out of the childish surroundings of Hogwarts Academy - the teenager drama axis of Edinburgh - and out into the adult seriousness, he was somehow livelier, passionate, alive. Someone lighter. Draco wondered curiously whether it's what he was really yearning for – an independent lifestyle of a responsible adult. Perhaps the Hogwarts walls were an imprisonment, not a blessing.

They arrived at the restaurant at half-past eight, smartly dressed and combed. Narcissa, the only woman accompanying them, was absolutely stunning in her dark purple evening dress and velvet high-heels. It seemed, as the four of them passed – everybody turned to stare. They settled at a table, as servants circled fussily about them, pulling out chairs and taking in orders.

"So, Harry," Narcissa said, after the wine had been brought. "You're in the same year as Draco, I believe?"

"Yes," Harry smiled genuinely.

"What subjects do you take?" She continued, picking up her glass of wine.

Harry took a breath and recited with practiced ease, "Chemistry, Biology and Math, all Higher. Physics, English and Psychology Standard."

Lucius lifted his gaze from his Menu and lifted an elegant brow. Narcissa's expression was surprised. "What are you planning to do in the future, Harry?"

"Doctor," Draco said with a smile. Harry shot him a grateful glance.

"Plastic Surgeon or Gynecologist," Harry explained. "I want to study Medicine."

Lucius and Narcissa looked impressed. She awarded the black-haired boy with a wide smile, "That's interesting. I suppose you have to be ambitious to succeed."

Harry chuckled with a bright grin. Draco felt his heart flip over in his chest. Too much wine. Too much wine. He placed his glass down and tore his gaze away from Harry's face.

"I guess. It's a hard job. It takes no less than ten years to get the proper education."

Narcissa nodded, sipping her wine. "Are your parents also Doctors?"

Draco's eyes flickered to Harry again. He was curious to hear, he'd never actually asked before. Harry averted his eyes, shaking his hair off of his cheeks jerkily. Narcissa's brows furrowed, as Lucius inspected him clinically. Silence reigned for a few moments. Then, Harry cleared his throat and spoke calmly, "I don't – have parents."

Narcissa covered her surprise with a cough, as Lucius raised his brows in a cold-hearted manner. Draco held onto his wine-glass desperately. He – he never told him. Never. He spoke of his family weirdly at times. But he never said that he was an orphan. Never!

"I – excuse me," Narcissa recovered gracefully.

"Who are your guardians?" Lucius's voice warmed a degree at Harry's confession.

"My uncle and aunt," Harry flicked his hair away from his face, an act of irritation, Draco noted.

"He's a transfer student, on a scholarship," Draco commented, his voice cold. Harry's expression sagged.

Narcissa smiled warmly. "Well, that's wonderful. Hogwarts gives great scholarships to outstanding students." Lucius nodded gravely. If he disliked the boy, he didn't let on. He acted perfectly amicable with the black-haired boy. Soon the theme of the conversation turned to politics – Lucius' favorite subject.

The evening went on smoothly, with pleasant conversations and enjoyable food. But Draco's mind kept coming back to Harry's words, as anger and sorrow, a sick sense of betrayal pooled in the pit of his stomach. He was almost glad to get out of the restaurant. He wanted to think. So when the empty dessert plates were taken away and the bill was signed, Draco shrugged on his jacket and bounced out of the door. Narcissa and Lucius were so nice it was impossible to listen, while Harry acted like nothing happened. Like he hadn't revealed a secret he's been hiding from Draco.

He was silent all the way back to the hotel, albeit Narcissa's constant questions and brilliantly white smiles. Once inside the hotel room, he swung his jacket off, his blouse and dress shoes away and walked into the shower. He spent about half-an-hour bathing, scrubbing all anger out of himself and relaxing under the hot stream of water. But even the warmness of the shower couldn't wash away the regret. He walked out of the bathroom in a pair of boxers, toweling his blond locks. Harry sat at the marble windowsill, watching the scenery out of an open window. He turned around and fixed the blond with a concerned look.

"What's wrong? You're all stressed."

Draco stared disbelievingly. "You know what's stressing me."

Harry twisted in his seat fully to frown up at Draco. "What?"

Draco sighed, trying to suppress the scratching sorrow in his chest. He turned away and folded the towel accurately. "You're – I didn't know you didn't have parents."

Harry's face remained unaltered from his accusation. But his eyes darkened. "So?"

"Well, you never told me!"

Harry opened his mouth and then shut it again. Speechlessly, he averted his sharp gaze.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that talk about your aunt and uncle harassing you? And your family not being generous? Always joking?"

Harry's jaw clenched but he stayed seated, looking downwards. "I knew you'd ask someday."

"It was my Mother who asked," Draco commented coldly.

"It's hard, okay? It's fucking-" His breath hitched and he sighed nervously. "It's complicated."

Draco waited, silent. Seconds ticked by.

"I don't – fuck." He stood up and ran a hand through his thick unruly hair. "I don't want to talk about it."

Draco leveled him with a glare, so fierce, Harry actually flinched. "Then why did you talk to my Mother about it, but not me?"

"I did not do such thing!"

Draco's hands clenched into fists. His curiosity was winning hands down over practicalities and transforming into rage. "Still, I guess if I asked, you wouldn't have told me anyway-"

"You know nothing! Nothing!" Harry repeated intensely. "Yes, they're dead. Murdered, in fact." His voice broke and he looked like he was fighting tears, while the corners of his eyes leaked with the salty moisture. He regained his composure by inhaling deeply several times. His voice returned in a hiss. "I – a child of ten fucking years old – was accused of murdering them! Stabbing my own parents to death! Killing them with my own fucking hands!"

Draco gaped silently, his grey eyes wide open.

"I have lost both my parents and I was fucking accused of murder!"

Draco opened his mouth to say something, to stop this insanity show before him-

But now Harry's words came in uncontrollable sobs. "I never did it - I fucking loved them! I-"

And he was crying. The strong Harry Potter, the brave, just and strong man Draco got to know during these few weeks, was weeping his heart out. It was by instinct that Draco reached out and pulled the raven-haired into a tight hug, literally hauling him into a comforting embrace, where he stood clutching Draco's back desperately. He could feel his nails digging into the soft flesh of his back. Although not a sadist, the blond actually found it rather comforting.

They stood still for a very long time; Harry's sobs filling the emptiness in Draco's gut. Draco continually muttered soothing phrases into Harry's black hair.

"It's okay. Hush now," Draco hugged him even tighter. "It's alright. Harry. Harry…" Harry. Harry. Harry. He could have said it a thousand times without hesitation.

Harry's sobs died out and he pulled back awkwardly. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from tears. "God, I'm such a damn-"

"Shh," Draco squeezed his shoulder almost painfully. "Don't say that."

Harry spun around, facing the windows, his back to Draco. He was wiping his eyes hastily, anxious with his gestures. "Sorry."

Draco started. "Don't be. I should be."

Harry leaned onto the window frame and stood completely immobile, silent.

"Harry."

He didn't answer. His breathing was regained, but his face was solemn, his expression – forlorn.

"Let's go to sleep, Harry," Draco called again. He reached for his shoulder, squeezed it in a reassuring gesture. Not awaiting a reply, he crawled under his covers and settled on his pillow uncomfortably. He knew Harry needed some time to himself. Isolation for a couple of private moments. Draco pretended to sleep, while Harry retreated into his little personal cavern of thoughts. After an everlasting moment, Draco heard the bathroom door close and the shower taps switched on. He lay in bed, motionless, silently digesting the hazardous scene of minutes before.

Twenty minutes passed. Harry returned from the shower with only his pajama bottoms on, his hair and chest glimmering with watery crystals as he strolled around the room, toweling his hair. Draco's breath caught in his throat and he had to choke down the knot in his chest from the unexpected sight. Harry, thank God, stayed oblivious. But Draco couldn't figure out what it was.

Harry crawled into the second double bed beside Draco's one and dimmed the lights. The room faded into total darkness. For endless minutes – or were they hours? – Draco couldn't fall asleep. As horrible as it seemed, he was stuck on the horrific sensation he'd obtained on seeing his classmate half-naked. With great terror, he realized that he couldn't name the feeling precisely. He couldn't say it aloud. He didn't know what it was. And, more importantly, why on Earth was it bothering him so much.