Author's Note: Before I continue this and before I get negative feedback that isn't from my sister (she's crazy about continuity) I have taken certain liberties in writing fanfiction. For example, I have kept Dobby and Hedwig alive. Why? Because I don't feel that their deaths are necessary to write what I have in mind and in my mind, Dobby is there and Harry is nothing without Hedwig. They understand him. So it's mainly compliant with all of the books but when little things like that pop up, just remember that it either holds a significance or is so insignificant to the plot that I just decided to stick it back in there. I apologize if this upsets you. Anyway, enjoy. xo.


"He's a quiet one now, isn't he?" Ron commented the first day that he and Hermione came to visit. He gestured with a nod toward the sitting room, where Malfoy was curled up on the couch with a book in hand, his nose buried so deep inside of it that whether or not he was actually reading was suspect. He had been like that for days now, often dozing off in the middle of the night when the need to sleep overcame his desire to finish yet another book. When that happened, Harry would drop by with a blanket to cover him up and when he woke, Harry would drop by to pick it up again. They never said a word to one another.

"I suppose he is," Harry replied quietly, taking a bite of the toast Dobby had made him for breakfast. "Though I guess it's better than what he was before."

"You mean an annoying little prat?"

"Something like that."

The two boys exchanged smiles before Harry gave his housemate another glance over. To be honest, he hadn't even noticed the silence that had fallen on Grimmauld Place since he had finally claimed it as his home. He spent a lot of his days locked up in Sirius's old bedroom, polishing his broom or finishing up paperwork that he hadn't wanted to do at his new office at the Ministry. Dobby and Kreacher did most of the cleaning around the house, and Harry honestly trusted Draco to be alone in the house to do whatever he wanted. It gave Harry more time to be alone, to think about what he was going to do in life after the war. After all, Aurors didn't want him working too much because they feared "putting him in danger" (Oh now you worry about that, Harry had thought bitterly though like most times now, he had remained silent during their excuses) and he didn't exactly have Hogwarts or anything to look forward to now. Hermione suggested going back for an "eighth year" but honestly? What could Hogwarts teach him that he didn't already know? He could read about spells in one of the many books that Draco had brought with him to Grimmauld Place, and everything else - well, everything else was stuff that had become second nature to him by that point. No, Hogwarts didn't hold anything for him anymore but just further distraction from what needed to be addressed: life post-Voldemort.

"Does he ever talk anymore, Harry?" Hermione looked somewhat concerned as she followed her friend's gaze. Whether anyone liked it or not, Hermione and Draco had formed some sort of quiet bond during their time fighting legal battles together, and Harry didn't blame her for being worried. If Harry wasn't feeling as quiet inside as Draco acted on the outside, he'd probably be concerned, too.

"He talks to Kreacher, if it counts for anything."

"Kreacher? Really?" Ron raised his eyebrows. "Leave it to those two to bond. Sodding gits, the both of them..."

"Ronald! Don't be so insensitive." Hermione leaned forward over the table. "Though are either one of you really surprised?" Curious, Harry leaned forward and Ron soon followed suit. "Honestly, you two...I mean, it's obvious isn't it? Draco is technically the last remaining Black. Well, other than Teddy, but I highly doubt that Kreacher counts him." Harry cringed at the mention of his godson, but decided not to let his mind go down that route. He didn't want to think about the parenting duties he'd eventually have to undertake once Andromeda got too sick to care for her grandson. "Kreacher must be really pleased to have him in the house. It probably makes him feel secure, like he still has a bit of Narcissa with him in the house. It's no wonder he'd form a bond with him."

"I'm just happy that Malfoy at least talks to someone," Harry said turning back to his food. "When he unpacked all his shit the first day here, I thought he'd gone mute. I was threatening to take him to St. Mungo's to see if anything was wrong when Kreacher walked in and started talking up a storm with him."

"Hmm, it is a bit strange, the personality change he went through," Hermione said thoughtfully, taking a sip of her tea. "But I suppose that war was enough to change even the worst of us." Harry didn't reply, but Ron made a noise of affirmation. A sad smile on her face, Hermione reached over to place her hand over one of Harry's. "What about you, though? Have you anyone to talk to around here?"

"I'm usually working, actually." How could he lie to them?

"Do you need Ron and me to hang around more often?"

Her concern was sweet but slightly irritating. Harry rather enjoyed being left to his own devices; he hadn't had that kind of solitude since he was eleven. He had almost forgotten the comfort one could receive from being alone in the dark. "That's not necessary, 'Mione. I get enough social contact at work."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, probably with an argumentative edge, but Ron stopped her with one look. She pulled back her hand. "Whatever you say, Harry. But if you need us..."

"You're only one Floo call away. I know."

He gave them a smile, but none of them really believed in it.

Ron and Hermione left not long after that - Hermione had a trial that she desperately needed to get to and ever since a Death Eater on trial had tried hexing the prosecuting law team, Ron had been adamantly refusing to let her go anywhere on her own. When they were gone, Harry finally allowed himself to relax, the fake smile he'd been holding up since they'd arrived finally fading into the blank expression that he normally held anymore. It was too much of an effort to even smile nowadays.

He made another cup of tea to distract him from that disturbing thought. He had tried to stick with only positive thinking since settling his life back down - to think of a better tomorrow and all of that. But it was hard when the only thing he had facing him now was a boring desk job and never any excitement. After what felt like a lifetime of nothing but adventure, everything else was just...dull. Blank. Empty. It felt an awful lot like missing an old friend and having no idea where to contact them even if he wanted to. Like a part of his very soul was missing.

"Draco." He nudged his foot against his housemate's to break him out of his solitude in the least rude way possible. The blond looked up, eyebrows raised. "I made you some tea."

"Just put it on the table."

"Okay."

He set the cup down next to him and then pulled back, ready to head back up to his study. With Hermione's words in mind, though (Have you anyone to talk to around here?) he paused and looked back at Draco.

"When was the last time you slept?"

He could sense the blond's annoyance at being interrupted again, but at least he didn't snap. He just looked calmly up at Harry. "A book or two ago."

"Do you even know what day it is?"

"I know it's day if that counts for anything." Harry didn't reply. "Are you done now or should I just postpone any hopes of finishing this book?"

"What are you reading?" He walked back toward the couch, taking a seat on the opposite end as Draco sighed and dog-eared the page he was on. Harry's mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile but his expression remained blank.

"A Muggle novel. Pride and Prejudice. Pans and I bought it in Muggle London one year, after escaping our parents." He ran fingers lightly over the cover of the book, as if it were something valuable. Harry wrinkled his nose.

"My cousin threw that book at me once."

Draco smirked. "Did he now?"

"Yes. He said he didn't want to read it for his literature class and decided that it would make a better projectile weapon. Let me tell you; nothing hurts worse than an accidental paper cut to the face."

A few years ago, Harry had no doubt that Draco would have fallen to the ground laughing at the fact that Harry had received a paper cut from a book being thrown at him. Now, though, he didn't even smile, though he did admittedly look amused. "You don't say."

"I do." Silence. That had never happened between them before. It was always insults, constant insults or arguments. But never silence. Harry decided that he didn't like it. "Hey, are you okay?"

Draco seemed to visibly bristle at his words. "What's it to you, Potter?"

"I was just wondering."

"Well don't."

And then he was turning back to his book, the tale of romance between Mr. Darcy and Lady Elizabeth now seeming far more entertaining than the man sitting beside him. Unsure of what he did wrong, Harry debated apologizing and trying again. But he figured it would just do him more harm than good and eventually just abandoned his post on the couch and headed up to his study like he originally planned. He wasn't sure why he even tried talking to Draco at all; probably just Hermione's words getting to him.

If he had looked back at all, he would have seen Draco glance once at the spot he had just vacated before turning back to his book. But as it were, he didn't.


"He's probably just lonely, Harry," Hermione said in her usual matter-of-fact tone, dumping a stack of papers onto her friend's desk. "I mean, Pansy's incarceration came as a surprise to us all; we were all expecting her to go free seeing as she never actually...did anything." She flipped through a few more files in front of her before adding, "He's probably just upset. That's why he refuses to talk to you. He just...needs a friend."

"No, the only thing he needs apparently is an endless supply of books," Harry responded, trying not to sound bitter. He flipped through a few pages of the work Hermione had just given him and tried not to wrinkle his nose in distaste. "I'm telling you, I tried talking to him and the moment I got beyond asking what he was reading, he got all...cold and shut me out. I'm starting to think he's just...lost his will to live or something."

He started at the sudden crash that followed his words and looked up to see Hermione blushing furiously over her broken mug. "Oh Harry, that's horrible," she said, picking up the glass pieces. "Absolutely horrid. Don't even...Harry, we can't even think that."

He raised his eyebrows. "And why not?"

"Because...well because, Harry!" She quickly repaired her mug before looking back up with a surprising amount of emotion in her eyes. "Most Death Eaters after being caught are often forced to be put on a suicide watch. They'd rather die than continue living, whether it's because they don't want people to know their secrets or...or they just can't live with what they've done. It's a horrible, horrible solution to their rather large problems, and they do get creative about it...But Harry can you imagine what pain they must be in to even consider that? It's horrid."

Not really, he found himself thinking. Losing the will to live isn't all about pain. More like the lack thereof. It'd probably be easier to live if they could feel pain. But he didn't say that. He didn't want to worry her anymore than he already had.

"Harry, if you suspect that Malfoy is even the slightest bit suicidal, you have to do something right away."

"Yeah?" he said, eyes scanning a newspaper article about recent attacks on Muggle families. "And what do you propose I do exactly, seeing as he won't accept my company? Console him from another room?"

"If that's what it takes, yes!" She placed her hand over the article he was distracting himself with and met his gaze with a fierce desperation. "Harry, Draco is legally your responsibility now. You're the one who kept him out of Azkaban and you're the one who offered to take him in. If anything happens to him, it's on you. You can't just sit there and let him sit in misery until he finally decides he's had enough and...a-and..."

"Okay, fine!" Harry said, rolling his chair back to get away from her accusing stare. "Fine, I'll make sure he's bloody...stable or whatever it is you want me to do."

"I'm just asking you to be a friend to him, Harry. I'm afraid he doesn't have many left, and at a time like this...everybody needs someone. Even Draco Malfoy." Somehow, Harry doubted that Draco would agree with that statement, but he promised to try and talk to him again when he got home if only just to get Hermione off his back for the rest of the day. Then he turned back to his paperwork, lips pursed, barely registering the words even as he read them.

Sometimes, he really hated how right Hermione was.