Upon reading Harry's response, Draco's guilt tripled. How can he think it was a joke? We're not in school anymore. We're not kids.

"But he was worried," piped up the voice in Draco's head.

"And now he despises me again. So shut up." Draco said this out loud in spite of himself; he grasped at his head as though he could push the voice out.

"You'd made a breakthrough. You know he's the only one you can talk to," the voice persisted, sounding all the more smug and demeaning with every syllable.

Draco knew this was true; he let out a long breath that made him feel like a balloon deflating. He didn't have a friend to rely on. I never had a real friend, did I? I had followers. Never friends. Blaise Zabini was my only equal, but that's not to say I want to lean on him in a time of need. Draco threw himself down on the bed. It groaned under the sudden weight shift and gave off a cloud of dust. He couldn't even go back to his parents. Narcissa would listen, he knew that. He had known it the entire time he had been hiding from her. He kept on hiding, though; he hid from Lucius, who would always be there alongside Narcissa. Lucius, who was constantly there to scorn him, to yell at him, to harass him over nothing. Over nothing and everything. Why did I spend so long pining for his approval? He sighed deeply and shuddered as a sudden chill shot up his spine. How long have I known these things? Has everyone else changed, or have I just been too thick to notice it all?

After another half hour of seemingly drowning in his emotions, Draco rolled over onto his back. He sat up slowly and combed the room for his quill. Before he could get up to retrieve it, though, he lost his nerve.

…

"So Malfoy stood you up."

"Ron, drop it."

"Malfoy stood you up!"

"Ron, I asked you last night to drop it. Nothing has changed."

"Sorry, sorry. Just…Malfoy!" Ron tried unsuccessfully to hide his glee. "That's what you get for trusting such a git."

"Well now I know that, don't I?"

Harry had returned past ten o'clock and gone straight to bed, having hardly said a word. He had told Ron what happened briefly, and Ron's reaction was the same as that of today. Why did I think he was changing? Why did I think he was worth the second chance?

…

Harry bolted awake that night, panting harder than ever before. He gave up trying to fall back asleep; after a few minutes of lying with his eyes closed, he realized that the images wouldn't go away any time soon. Harry opened his eyes and stared at the dark ceiling. He wondered if the others had the same nightmares. He turned his head to look at Ron's bed. He could see his sleeping form twitch occasionally. Harry hadn't told anyone about the nightmares. He couldn't even lie to himself and say he didn't know why he'd kept his silence so long. He knew exactly why. He was not the only who had lived through the war. He was not the only one to lose loved ones. If anything, he had lost the least; he had had no family left to lose. The others did. He didn't feel like he had the right to complain, to get sympathy. After all, he hadn't lost a brother, a husband, a wife, a son! He was too young to remember losing his family, and on some level, he feared that everyone would resent him for his lack of memories. His memories were those he shared with the people to whom, he was sure, they meant much more than he could ever understand. Somewhere deep down, he knew he was just being thick. He knew no one would think he was trying to get attention, no one would resent him. However, he still could not seem to talk about it. Any of it. Yet he had agreed to meet Malfoy. He knew it was inevitable that the war would be the topic of conversation, but still he went.

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco nodded to Tom and sat down at his usual booth. His mother had approached him, but he had rebuffed her attempt at reconciliation. And now here he was, on Christmas Eve, drinking alone. It was still early afternoon and people kept trickling in and out of the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed that there were lots of last-minute holiday shoppers.

The bell above the door tinkled yet again as a new group walked in. Draco looked up from his drink instinctively and registered the newcomers. He hastily sank into the shadows of his booth when he saw who it was. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny strode right past him and headed for the entrance to Diagon Alley without even a glance in his direction. Draco hesitated, wanting to go after them, but then changed his mind.

An hour and a half later, Draco still sat in the booth as though rooted to the spot. He knew that they would be forced to return the way they came. He didn't know what he planned to do, but he waited anxiously nonetheless. Forty minutes later, Harry led the way back into the dining room. Draco rose from his seat instantly and walked towards him.

"Potter."

Harry jumped a little and then, once he realized who had said his name, assumed an expression of cold indifference.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

The others stood still a few feet back, watching apprehensively.

"I… I don't…" Draco had expected this attitude. He knew he deserved it, but that didn't stop him from being slightly taken aback. "Can we talk over there?" He indicated the booth he had just come from.

"Malfoy, I don-"

"Fine. I understand." Draco turned abruptly and strode off.

"Malfoy! Wait." Harry caught up to him a moment later.

"Harry, can I have a word?" Ron called. Harry waved him off.

"You guys go home, I'll catch up later."

"If anything happens…" Hermione's sentence trailed off.

"Really, go ahead!" Harry said this a bit more forcefully. They walked off with clear reluctance.

"You wanted to talk. I'm listening." Harry sat down and crossed his arms.

"I've had some time to think. Actually, over five months. I broke ties with my parents. I don't know if I'll ever reestablish contact, but for now…" Draco stopped talking, not sure where he was going.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I have no one else to turn to." The response was automatic. There was no thought involved. It was as though his subconscious had prepared it long ago.

Harry's expression softened and his posture relaxed, but Mad-Eye Moody's advice floated through his mind: "Constant vigilance."

"I'm listening." This time Harry's voice was kinder and had the sincerity that it lacked before. Draco's shoulders fell and his jaw unclenched. He hadn't realized how tense his body had become.

"I have no one else to turn to." His voice shook as he said it again. With that, the last bit of his composure crumbled. He doubled over as his body shuddered with sobs. Harry sat dumbstruck, entirely unsure of what to do, and perhaps more confused that he had ever been.