Did I tell you about the people who are still alive in this story or not?

Disclaimer:

J.K.R. Has rights to Harry Potter books 1-7...

My father will hear about this.

"I'm not sure if you're familiar with this, Minerva, but in Draco Malfoy's case... It's a wonder that he's even alive," Pomfrey said, sitting down and handing over the diagnostic notes she had taken on the blonde. He was currently in her wing, eating his dinner away from the rest of the hall as Minerva had advised. She was sure that more than one person had seen the spill that Malfoy had made, and would have had some commentary on it, being that they were only children. Minerva took the proffered parchment and studied it.

"Two weeks is a given miracle," Pomfrey said, shaking her head. Minerva McGonagall's brows furrowed as she looked down at the paper.

"Except it isn't," she supplied in a quiet tone herself.

"His organs haven't taken the brunt of what they could have, though during the two weeks he'll have to take some potions for damage," Pomfrey said, shaking her head.

"The concern is too little damage for such an extensive attack," McGonagall said, rolling up the parchment and setting back down in front of her with a dark scowl. Pomfrey nodded.

"He's got magic weaved around his vital organs so intricate and powerful, I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore himself did it," she sighed, looking worn out, "I suspect someone else knows about the boy's condition and have gone about helping him."

Minerva folded her hands and asked, "And if not?"

Poppy looked shocked that she would even suggest such a thing. She shook her said and insisted, "It must have been someone else. There's no way such magic could be preformed on one's self."

The headmistress sat silently, deep in thought, before she shook her head, "It's hard to gain a hold on this. Draco Malfoy's standing as a human being is already low, and his standing in the war has just made it worse. I fear that-"

There was a knock on the door, interrupting her. She cast a swift Tempus, realizing that the boys were due to visit her office soon. Dismissing the school's healer, she granted entrance to the arrived young man.

~{D}~

Harry snapped his book shut and got up from the Gryffindor table, Ron watching with a tense jaw and Hermione watching with her mouth slightly ajar. Without saying goodbye or even looking back, Harry grabbed his piece of treacle tart and harrumphed down the Great Hall. They had been avoiding a row in the common room, but with Ron's temper and Hermione's ability to say things before thinking of the consequences, it was inevitable. So, without finishing his desert in any way satisfying, he was out of the hall.

As he ascended the castle to find McGonagall, he swallowed the desert and thought about Malfoy. It was a darkening prospect to be alone with the blonde. They had a rivalry more deeply seated than that between himself and Tom Riddle. On one side of things, the rivalry between his boyhood nemesis wasn't as filled with pure hatred. Still, there was an everlasting fire there, and Harry could only account it to the fact that they liked acting like children. They'd snap at each other because it was exciting and eventful and it gave them something to use their wands for, besides the obvious.

But a war had gone on and Harry knew how it had changed everyone. He didn't know what he was expecting from Malfoy, but he hoped it was good. The raven climbed the steps, fantasizing about a quiet Malfoy who'd pass the marmalade and 'accidentally' help him with his homework. He knocked on McGonagall's door and was granted entrance.

As soon as he entered, an annoyed voice said, "Took you long enough, Potter."

Harry's fantasy blew up and the ashes mixed into the bitter sand in his wounds. He scowled at Malfoy, but didn't shoot back. The blonde needed fuel to keep his flames going, and Harry wasn't anatomically related to the substance in any way.

"Of course, some of us have been breed properly enough to be on time.

"Dinner isn't even over yet, Malfoy. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not late," he shot back, dropping into his seat and rubbing the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand.

"Leave it to you to find a way to have everyone waiting on you," Malfoy snarled, and Harry knew he was just fighting him to fight him. Instead of replying, he sat in the other chair that stood in front of McGonagall's desk. The woman looked between them with an eyebrow raised before settling her gaze upon Harry. They asked him if he could really handle this, or if they would just start fighting again. The raven savior just shook his head.

"Are you prepared for this, Mr. Potter," the headmistress asked. Malfoy snorted, belaying any reply Harry could have given.

"Why is it that I get stuck with Potter, of all people," he asked, and McGonagall sent him a sharp look. She seemed to study him for a moment before replying.

"You get stuck with Mr. Potter, because the whereabouts of your parents have yet to be determined, and therefore could not be consulted on what manner of action should be taken into regards to you."

Malfoy stopped talking and just stared at her. Harry shivered because it was unlike the one he had given Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing. No, instead of being statuesque, there was something writhing in his gaze. He looked back at the Headmistress to avoid looking at it.

"The two of you will be situated in private living quarters for the duration of two weeks. Your works will be sent to you, and they are expected to be completed on time. The house elves will be cleaning your quarters, and stocking your pantries with food, but you have to cook on your own," she said, rattling off a list of things they needed to know. As she said on your own she looked pointedly at Malfoy as she said this. He was still looking at her with that writhing gaze.

"Madame Pomfrey will be seeing to you three times a week, Mr. Malfoy. I sincerely advise you to do as she says, and take each and every potion she gives you."

Instead of replying, Draco's eyes narrowed and he snorted. Harry hoped that was how the writhing gaze was shattered. He also secretly hoped that he didn't do anything to have that gaze upon him. It made him really uncomfortable for reasons that were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't really name them.

"Come on, then," Professor McGonagall said. She glided from behind her desk, lips set in a grave line as she led them back through her door. As they passed the gargoyle, she began talking again.

"You're living quarters shall hold you both comfortably enough."

Harry got the feeling that she was trying to tell them, 'You're getting your own rooms, so don't kill each other.'

~{H}~

There was a flat inside Hogwarts. It had been a strange and petrifying walk there, and they had traveled through passageway after passageway. There were some unused, secret ones that Harry recognized from his map, and some that must have been new. He wondered if they would show up on the map, if he ever deemed it fit to give it a proper look. Being in one of the most obscure places in the castle, he wouldn't be surprised that this was here.

His common sense reasoned with him was that the reason that the flat looked so new was because McGonagall had asked them both to touch the door. Before departing, she had asked them to relinquish their wands. Both of them. Harry didn't know whether to talk back in indignation of be grateful. He decided to choose the latter.

The elder woman had a purpose for everything she did, some of them being for her own personal comfort and some being for the well being of everyone. Harry chalked that up to the elderly woman's years of teaching and partially to her own human nature. As he looked around, he was glad for both of those things. She hadn't been lying when she said they'd be living comfortably. There was a kitchen right across from the living room, which was sunken in, and had shallow steps leading off out of it.

There was a fair sized island across from the kitchen counter, and atop it sat a bowl of fresh fruit, several of which, Harry had not ever seen before in his life. He supposed that it was Malfoy who liked them. Harry took to the chance to look around, walking up stairs to find a hallway of doors. Harry supposed it was to accommodate Malfoy, who had never lived anywhere with less than fifteen doors. He supposed he would come back and explore each one after he had the downstairs completely covered.

The raven turned and went back down the stairs, admiring that glass windows on the opposite wall of the banister. It was so rare that he saw a stairway lit naturally, though this wasn't natural either. They were still inside the castle, so there was no way that these could be here. Still, it was nice to have a view of Hagrid's hut from there. It felt a little reassuring, since he would not be able to see any of his friends for the next two weeks.

Actually... now that he thought about it, he didn't actually know if he wouldn't be able to see them. He decided to ask the Headmistress about it later on, if he could figure out a way to get back to her. He then turned and headed down the stairs to explore. There was a hallway leading off to two doors. One had a great arch, and behind it sat the dining room which held Malfoy. Harry decided that he would marvel at it later.

He turned and found that the other door was a half bathroom. He shrugged, figuring that those who ate couldn't very well go all the way up the stairs just to relieve themselves. He turned back and went into the kitchen. Harry was surprised that there wasn't a fridge, but then he remembered Hermione's ramblings. Hogwarts didn't allow electronics in the school. The raven shrugged and began opening the cabinets. He awed as he opened one, and cold air immediately filtered out. He supposed they had to do something to keep their food cold.

He grinned. Just like muggles, wizards found ways to cope with things they didn't have. He closed up the cabinets and then stared at the fruit bowl. It was strange seeing things that he had never thought to be fruit in the bowl. As he picked up a miniature version of an orange- or maybe it was grapefruit- and idea came to light. He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared before him.

"Enith is helping today, he is," the house elf said happily ears bouncing as he nodded. Harry looked sadly at the elf and his ragged clothes, being forcefully reminded of Dobby.

"Um... Could you tell me what this is," he said, staring at the... fruit to avoid looking at the elf's bright eyes.

"That is being a kumquat sir," the elf squeaked back. Harry raised his eyebrows before asking, "How do I eat it?"

"You can't be that dense, Potter," the raven heard from the door. Malfoy stood there, face annoyed and staring a hole through Harry's hand.

"I've never heard of a...-"

"You eat a kumquat like you'd eat a grape. You'd think they'd have taught their Saviour more than basic math," Malfoy said, pushing off from the wall and strolling towards the steps.

"Enith."

"Y-yes, sir," the house elf replied nervously to the blonde. Harry rolled his eyes at the display. It didn't surprise him that the Malfoy heir would instill fear in other house elves as well.

"How often do you restore our food," he asked.

"U-um... Enith and the other elves is being helpful whenever we is needed," he replied nervously eyes darting around the room as he wrung his hands in the rags he wore. Malfoy's stare pierced him for a while longer before he asked another question

"You give us more food whenever we need it," Malfoy replied, rather than asked, and didn't wait for the elf's reply before he asked, "How do we know which bedrooms are ours?"

"Malfoy, even you should be capable enough of picking your own room," Harry snorted. Malfoy shot him a short, irritated look, gray granite eyes hard on Harry's own.

"If you were even capable enough to count the fingers on your hands, you would have realized that we can't just pick our own rooms. The place is designed specifically for the both of us, and it isn't going to half arse the rooms when it's already given us an obviously muggle kitchen and a dining room fit for a manor," he replied, tongue quick and intelligent. Harry's mouth shut and twisted like a lemon so that he didn't retort in the way that he wanted to. His hand was itching for his wand, just to cast a permanent Silencio on the serpent tongued git. Malfoy had already turned his full attention back to the now extremely nervous house elf.

"E-Enith is knowing that the doors that belong to the masters will glow white 'round the edge," the elf said. Malfoy stared at the elf a while longer after that, and Harry amused himself by thinking that the blonde needed a long time to take in any amount of information. A tribute to his denseness.

However, he choked on the kumquat he popped into his mouth when he heard a voice that sounded too much like Malfoy's say, "Thank you, Enith."

By the time Harry saved himself, the other student had already disappeared up the steps. Regaining his coherent self, Harry asked the elf, "Is there any way we can send or receive letters?"

"There is being place for the owls in the library," the elf replied, tears shining in its eyes as it looked up to where Malfoy had just disappeared. Harry looked up the stairs after him.

"Before his passing, Dobby is telling the house elves of his master's son," the elf said, unprompted.

"Really? What did he say," the raven asked, sad to hear about his favorite house elf, but also pleased, in a way. His little friend lived on in a sense, and there would be those who would never forget him.

"Dobby is chattering on about his terrible life at the Malfoy Manor," Enith squeaked wistfully, and the raven suspected as much before the elf continued, "He is chattering more often about a young master, Draco, who is being very kind to him."

Harry stopped the mindless nodding of his head as his tongue still in it's reminiscing of the kumquat he'd manage to ingest. His brows furrowed and then he turned to look at the little elf.

"Malfoy..? Draco Malfoy... was kind to Dobby," he asked, slowly, the thought not really sinking into his head. The house elf turned to look at him strangely now, before nodding. It's ears flapped with each eager bob of it's head.

"Dobby is saying how Draco Malfoy is being like a friend to Dobby, and even allowing him to spend time with him."

Wait. Did they have the same person here? Was this elf really repeating what he had heard from Dobby? Harry shook his head. What did it matter? The person who had been 'friends' with Dobby and the one he was rooming with were two different people. He dislodged the idea of a kind Malfoy from his head. He decided that he could send a letter to McGonagall about leaving the room. Harry dreaded being unable to leave this place with Malfoy for so long, and supposed he should prepare against it. All he needed was his book.

"Er... Enith?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Could you bring me a drawing book? I need a new one and er... I could pay you for it," Harry ended lamely, scratching the back of his head. Enith's eyes grew to the size of saucers, and his ears began to tear up. Harry hoped he didn't start crying. Or worse; banging his head on something.

"Oh, no! Mr. Potter is not paying Enith for anything! Enith will gladly get what Mr. Potter be needing!"

"But I want to. It's only fair-"

Harry had never heard an elf groan in annoyance until that moment. It was strange and disconcerting, really, as he watched the elf stare at him with a hard expression.

"Mr. Potter must be friends with Ms. Hermione Granger. The miss is very smart, but she does not understand elf custom very well," he elf said, frustration clearly evident- or as evident as it could be- in its voice. Harry laughed at that. If the elves already knew what Hermione had been planning, then of course they wouldn't accept her gifts. He smiled.

"Alright then. Could I make a request?"

"Mr. Potter can request anything from Enith, so long as he is not be asking to pay me," the elf said, wagging its long, gray finger at him. Harry laughed again.

"No, Enith. I just want really good drawing book. One larger than this," he said, showing the elf his book. Every time he looked at it, it seemed to get smaller, "Can you do that?"

"Of course I can," the house elf replied, nodded eagerly, and Harry smiled back.

"Alright. You can go, thanks."

The house elf popped away, and Harry decided to go and take a look at the dining room.

~{dm}~

Draco sat in his room thinking. He was thinking as much as he possibly could with the pounding headache in his ears and his inability to focus. If he had to guess, it was probably... three in the morning. He wouldn't get much sleep, since he never really did, but that was beside the point. He didn't want Potter barging into his room at all hours of the night while he was trying to sleep, just because he heard noises. Draco had a heard enough time dealing with it alone, with other people in his own dorm.

He put up a silencing charm every time he actually went to sleep, and wasn't questioned. He didn't like those people, and the feeling was returned.

Potter was a different story.

He had been sent to watch him, to make sure the blonde did nothing wrong. Maybe even more than that, to make sure that Draco went through his withdrawals safely. He'd done a crap job of that too, because Draco's withdrawal had been terrible. As soon as he locked himself into his room, it started. His stomach tightened into a knot, his a headache pounded behind his eyes, and he'd tried not to throw up. He'd been lucky he made it into the bathroom in time. He had passed out underneath the spray of the shower, and Potter had complained that he was taking too long.

Honestly, they couldn't have sent anyone more incompetent to take care of Draco, though he wasn't complaining. He preferred to take care of himself. It wouldn't do to have Potter touching him, even if it was out of concern. He shivered harder, as the bouts of cold sickness had been plaguing him all day. He couldn't infer things for himself, and would brashly rush into anything his senses told him to. Which is why Draco had this problem.

He screamed when he slept. It wouldn't be so bad, if it was a normal screaming that occurred as he awoke. It wasn't. Draco could never do anything normally and this was just the next step, really. He shook looking out of his magically placed window. He huffed in irritation. There wasn't anything he could do.

His magic wasn't strong enough to put up a silencing charm, and even if it was, Draco wouldn't have the attention span for it. He would just have to hope that the room had come with sound proof walls.

Very short chapter.

I'm trying to compete with all the updates... Hard.