"Promise me that you'll protect Draco," Narcissa Malfoy asked as Harry sat in her armchair, trying not to leave ash on everything.

"Of course."

Harry was surprised at how quickly he said it. And how much he meant it. He felt a pressure in his mind, like it was filled with smoke, before the feeling retreated.

"Did you just-" he frowned at the woman across from him.

"I had to make sure you were telling the truth," Narcissa gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Alright, Mr Potter, we can begin."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He felt as though he had just passed a test and swallowed, his heart was pounding. This could still all be a trap. This was Draco's mother.

"The mind is like a room and leglimens creates corridors," Narcissa said. "Without protection, your room is open for anyone to wander in to."

"Okay," Harry said. He wanted to impress her, more than he wanted to impress most of his teachers. "If it's like a room, how do I make a door?"

She smiled slightly and he thought that meant he impressed her. Or at least, wasn't completely incompetent.

"Why don't you focus on tuning into your room for now? It's childish but imagining it will make it easier to start off with."

Harry hesitated, then closed his eyes. He tried his hardest to imagine he was just a mind and make a space. Just a room. He was just a room.

He felt another presence and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Narcissa was here.

'It's empty. That's good.'

Harry wasn't sure whether Narcissa was actually speaking or if she was in his mind.

"Why?"

He felt her presence smile, a bizarre and unexplainable feeling and knew he had asked it out loud.

'You cannot read an empty mind, that's a fundamental. I would have to ask you to empty it. Try making a door.'

Harry imagined a door leading out of his mind. A wooden one.

'Not a very reinforced one, but it will do for the time presently. Now try to push me out.'

But how was he supposed to do that? He couldn't open a door and usher a spirit – or a presence - out? Could he? He tried just pushing at the strange presence he was feeling. It wavered slightly, like the air in the heat of summer.

Then a memory sparked in his mind. Draco batting his hands away from the cauldron and grinning at him. He started to panic. Narcissa had to get out of his mind. He had to push her out. She didn't need to see all that.

He opened his eyes. He was doubled over on the armchair, his glasses hanging off of his face.

"That was a good start," Narcissa said from above him.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and his glasses back up his nose as he stared at her. For a moment, she looked just like Draco.

"You were going easy on me."

"Of course, I was. You think you'll get the hang of this in a day? I meditated for two months straight before anyone tried to enter my mind. We do not have that sort of time, Mr Potter, so you're going to have to learn quickly."

"How do I push someone out of my mind?"

"It is difficult to explain, there are not the words. It just clicks. We can only try again."

Harry took a deep breath.

"Fine."

Moments later he felt Narcissa's prescence again and concentrated on her not being there. He widened the door, but that only made the memories flicker through faster. Sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs. Aunt Marge inflating. Draco Malfoy leaning over him in the potions cupboard.

And then suddenly Narcissa was out of his head and he was awake and realising that his wand was pointed at her.

"I didn't-" he stumbled.

"Maybe you should put your wand on the floor before you hurt yourself."

She hasn't said that he would hurt her, and that was probably accurate. Knowing Harry's luck, his wand would backfire. So, he dutifully obeyed, glad that there was no sound in his memories. He settled back against the armchair, feeling a cool line of sweat on his hairline already.

Narcissa was back in his mind. He felt like he was starting to pinpoint where she was.

'You must have gotten in trouble for that, no?'

She had pulled up the memory of Aunt Marge again. Harry found himself able to push it aside like a piece of paper.

'Only time I haven't been, actually.'

Narcissa gave a tinkly laugh and Harry felt his stomach bubbling like he had just drunk champagne. More memories were pulled out and he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He pushed and pushed against the entity.

It slowly left.

"I didn't think we had time for you to go easy on me," Harry said, opening his eyes.

"I wanted you to feel like you were making progress," Narcissa said.

Harry sighed.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go again."

It was almost midnight by the time Draco knocked on the door.

"Father sent an owl. He'll be home soon," he said.

Harry opened his eyes, his heart fluttering at Draco's return.

"Then you had better get going," Narcissa stood, brushing imaginary lint from her dress. "That was good progress, Mr Potter."

"Thanks," Harry muttered. He used both hands to peel himself up from the armchair. He felt as though he was full of lead. "You don't have to flatter me, though, Mrs Malfoy."

She smiled and Harry wondered if she really was part Veela.

"It was a good start," she said.

"When should we come back?" Draco said. "We have to get Potter to the best he can be before his next lesson with Snape."

"The mind is a muscle, bien-amié, it must be rested," Narcissa said. She placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and gave him a small squeeze. "I wish you could come back every day."

"I know," Draco said thickly, taking his mother's hand in his own. He looked pained and Harry glanced away, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment.

"You're safer at school," Narcissa said. "Away from-" She took a deep breath. "Wait a couple of days," this she directed to Harry. "Keep working on your room."

"Right," Harry said. "Thank you. For everything."

Narcissa gave a sharp nod.

"Godspeed," she murmured. She placed a hand on Draco's cheek. "Goodbye, Draco. I'll find a house elf to clean the mess."

She seemed to float from the room.

"You don't look so good," Draco said. He cleared his throat in an effort to return to his usual snark.

"Speak for yourself," Harry muttered, but as he started towards the fireplace with Draco, his legs started to shake. It was like he had forgotten he had a body.

"Are you alright?"

"Dizzy," Harry said, clutching Draco's elbow as they climbed into the grate. "Happened last time too."

"I guess it's a hard thing to do," Draco said. He hadn't thrown down the floo powder yet.

"Are you only doing this to cover your tracks?" Harry asked. Over the last few hours it seemed like Narcissa had imprinted it in his mind. Maybe she had.

"Potter," Draco's voice lowered. His forehead nudged Harry's. "Really?"

"You don't want Snape to know we're friends."

"I don't want The Dark Lord to know that I'm betraying him," Draco said. "Think about it. I'm nice easy prey for him to blackmail you with."

"You assume I care enough about you to rescue you," Harry said, looking over the rim of his glasses at Draco.

"Please," Draco rolled his eyes. "You're so noble you'd rescue me even if you hated me."

They were very close, but Harry felt dizzy and dreamy and comfortable pressed against Draco in the fireplace. He liked the fact that Draco's nose bumped against his.

The door opened.

Draco swore and threw the floo powder down, yelling "The Hog's Head!"

The spinning began and Harry buried his face into Draco's chest, groaning. His stomach seemed determined to leave his mouth and when they finally stopped spinning he was shaking all over.

Draco pulled his hood up for him and helped him out of the grate. The Hog's Head was so packed that they could press through the crowd.

Harry gasped at the fresh, night air, revelling in the chill it brought to his lungs. He bent over in the nearest alley, gasping for breath.

"Please don't be sick in the gutter like some common drunk," Draco's voice sounded like was talking through a tunnel.

"At least hold my hair back, would you, Malfoy?" Harry wheezed. He coughed up some spit, then leant against the brick wall, pushing a mess of dark curls out of his face. Sweat seemed to be suffocating him.

"A house elf saw us."

"Saw us what?"

"Well, saw us, together."

"Together?"

"Imagine how it must have looked."

"How would it have looked?"

"Don't play word games with me, Potter. That's my job," Draco snapped, but he was peering at Harry's face nervously. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I will be once we're back at Hogwarts," Harry said, and managed a shaky smile, though flying was the last thing he could imagine doing. He just wanted to lie down.

"Here, lean on me," Draco said, tugging on of Harry's arms over his shoulders as they started down the alley to where they left the hippogriff.

Only there was no hippogriff.

They stared at the empty space. There was only a pile of droppings.

"Has he been stolen?" Harry asked. He kept glancing over the same places, sure that it would turn up sooner or later.

"More like he flew back to Hogwarts."

"But he was our lift."

"I know."

"How are we going to get back?" Harry asked. He realised he wasn't doing a very good job of looking after Draco.

"I don't suppose you can pull that trick with the broom you did last year?" Draco asked.

"I didn't think you'd remember that."

"I remember everything you do, Potter," Draco turned and smirked at him. "Looks like we're walking."

Harry sighed as they started up the alleyway, artfully avoiding the present their mount left for them.

"Good riddance to the bird, anyway," Draco muttered. "This is what we get for relying on a dumb animal."

"It was your idea," Harry said. The Hippogriff's departure had actually cleared his head, as had the smell of its dung, but he kept his arm around Draco's shoulders. There was something oddly comforting about it. Like they were just two friends walking home from the pub after a night out.

"Can't you think for yourself every once in a while?"

Harry laughed. It came out louder than he thought it would, but it made Draco snigger.

It was a long walk back to the castle. But the Hogsmede highstreet was really quite beautiful in the dark. Lights were lit in the apartments above the shops and the streetlamps cast a welcoming amber glow. Even the rain on the pavement seemed to shine.

Harry thought back on the occlumency lesson. A few hours of having someone else in his mind, probing out memories whilst he fought against it. He wondered what Narcissa thought about him. About the childhood memories that had been so humiliating to show to Snape. He had almost wanted her to comment on them. To say something. But she had been so indifferent. She had been indifferent to everything.

"Does your mum like me?" Harry asked.

"Considering I spent four years moaning about you, probably not," Draco said, as though that would settle it.

"What about now she's had a good old poke around my mind?"

"I don't know. I wasn't with you, was I?"

Harry fell into wondering once again.

It seemed like the sun should be rising by the time they reached the Hogwarts gates, but Harry's watch told him it was only one in the morning. From there, the driveway seemed to disappear quickly beneath their feet and it was no time at all before they were slipping into the entrance hall and Draco ducked out from under Harry's arm. He stood at the doorway to the dungeons and they stared at each other expectantly, like this was a date and one of them should produce chocolates to be polite.

"So, um," Draco cleared his throat. "Goodnight, Potter."

"Yeah, night," Harry said. "Thanks – for setting this up."

"As long as I can be of some help to the mighty and powerful Chosen One," Draco said.

Harry smirked, holding back a laugh. They were back in Hogwarts. If they were heard, it would surely be a detention.

Draco turned, but Harry found he couldn't leave yet. There was still something that had been niggling at the back of his mind.

"Um, Malfoy. Back there, in the fireplace – were you going to kiss me?"

Malfoy turned back so that all Harry could see was the corner of a smirk and a glint in his eye.

"That depends," he said. "Did you want me to kiss you?"

And then he was gone, just like the Hippogriff they had stolen and perhaps lost. Maybe he should feel guilty about that. Harry was left climbing up the stairs shrouded in his invisibility cloak, still slightly dizzy, and wondering if he wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy. He wondered if it would be different to kissing Cho Chang. It probably wouldn't be worse. Draco hadn't been crying, for one thing. What would Draco's mouth feel like? He should probably find out, because Harry Potter needed to know everything about Draco Malfoy. That was what rivals did. And they were rivals. They had to be otherwise Harry wondering what if would be like to kiss Draco would be weird. Friends didn't do that.

The Fat Lady gave him a disapproving glare for waking her up as he clambered inside the common room, thinking only of his bed and the magnificent lie-in he was going to have the next morning.

But as he shuffled over to the staircase, a lamp turned on. He froze, then relaxed as he remembered the invisibility cloak.

"Harry, I know you're there," he heard Hermione's voice and turned to see her seated at one of the tables, a collection of bobbly hats and socks in front of her. "Ron told me you weren't in your room and I said I'd stay up till you came in."

Harry stayed silent.

Hermione sighed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me, then," she placed her knitting needles down with a resounding thud, and stood. "I just thought, after five years, after all the shared trauma, that you wouldn't keep secrets from us. After all the secrets I keep for you and Ron, and all the trouble I've risked getting into for the two of you. I got turned into a cat for you."

There were tears in her eyes, and Harry opened his mouth to say something – anything – but she was already disappearing up the stairs. He tugged off the invisibility cloak, wondering what he would have said. What he could have said. No spark of genius came to his mind.

He trudged up the stairs and lay in his bed, still fully clothed, and wondered what on earth he was doing. He didn't want to lose Ron and Hermione. They were good friends and he loved them. But he didn't want to lose Draco. It felt, more and more, like he had to choose one or the other.

Predictably, the next morning, he woke up late. It was almost lunchtime when he shuffled from his bed into the Common Room. At least his head felt better, he supposed.

Ron and Hermione had gotten a table by the fire, for once. Ginny was playing Ron at Wizard's chess and Hermione was knitting with a mustard yellow wool. They almost looked like a family. Where would Harry fit in?

"Saved you a croissant," Ron said, nodding to a plate on the table.

"You didn't have to," Harry said, though he still took it.

"Yeah well, that's it, isn't it?" Ron said.

"That's what?"

"What friends are for."

Hermione was pointedly not looking at him. The guilt swarmed up inside him again.

"I went out last night," he admitted.

Ron didn't look at him either as he took Ginny's queen.

"Gathered that."

"I found someone else to teach me occlumency. That's where I was."

"Dumbledore asked Snape to, though," Ron said.

Ginny was pretending not to listen out of curtesy, though Harry could tell she wasn't focusing on where to put her knight. He didn't mind. She had been a victim of Voldemort too, she deserved to be in the know about things. Her dad had got hurt in this war, after all.

"You really think Snape's going to help me?"

"If Dumbledore asked him to."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Merlin's beard, Ginny, make a move already!" Ron snapped. "So, who is it?"

"Check," Ginny said, leaning back in her armchair and giving Ron a proud smile. His head snapped back to the board in disbelief. A frown grew on his face as he studied the pieces.

"Someone," Harry paused. Hermione was watching him with eagle eyes. "Sirius knows. They're related."

"So, a dark wizard then?" Hermione asked sharply. She was glaring at Harry.

"Kind of. But she's known Voldemort for a long time and has kept him out of her mind all that time, so she must know what she's doing."

"And she won't turn you in because?" Ron asked, he finally moved his king. "Check."

"Because she's got someone she wants to protect from him."

"Who is she?" Hermione pressed.

"If I tell you then you'll yell at me again," Harry said. "Just – trust me, okay? I know what I'm doing."

He received two dubious looks and remembered why he was keeping all this from them.

Ginny however, admitting defeat at the hands of the 'King of Wizards Chess,' slipped down to sit on the carpet next to Harry, leaving Colin Creevey to get decimated by Ron instead.

"You look stressed, Harry," she murmured, taking the poker from its holder.

"I wonder why," he said dryly.

"Beats me," Ginny shrugged. She poked at a curling piece of the Daily Prophet. "Maybe you should do yoga."

Harry laughed.

"Maybe I should."

"Or, maybe you should go for a fly," Ginny continued. She glanced at Harry from the corner of your eye. "That always calms me down."

"Dumbridge has locked our brooms up," Harry said.

"You're right. It would take a miracle to get in there now, wouldn't it? Perhaps even a bit of magic."

"It's locked with magic."

"So, unlock it."

"With what? Alohomora? I think she'd see a first-year charm coming."

"How about portaberto? It's older and more powerful. Splinters the lock."

Ginny waved the poker stick. She repeated the movement. Like she was writing the letter theta in the air. Harry nodded to show he understood and hoped Hermione hadn't seen.

"How do you know that? I wasn't taught that in fourth year."

"Let's just say it's a hobby," Ginny said. She smiled at Harry, her eyes shining. "You have your secrets, and I have mine."

Harry knew he had to be clever in how he approached the Quidditch Pitch. If he did it in the day, he would be clearly spotted. Umbridge would be rallying for his expulsion. It had to be dark, just to make sure. So, he passed the day feverishly doing homework and glancing out the window. He tapped on the table until Hermione told him to stop, then jiggled his knee until Ron told him to stop.

It seemed like a year had gone by until he was able to sneak out of the castle, employing his trusty method from the previous night, and slip off to the Quidditch Pitch. He held his breath as he entered, half expecting an alarm to go off. Lights to blare. Something.

But no, it was still quiet. He made his way to the broom closet, his trainers squelching in the damp grass. The heels were thick with mud. He drew out his wand and took a deep breath. Hopefully Ginny was right about this.

"Portaberto."

There was a crack before the door swung open. There sat Harrys firebolt, along with Fred and George's brooms. He brushed a finger against the top of his broom, oh, it was so beautiful. He itched to take it in his hands. To fly on it.

But the lock was busted and he wasn't sure he'd be able to fix it. If he couldn't and he flew the Firebolt, Umbridge would know for sure. So, instead of picking up his pride and joy, he took Fred's broom. No doubt they were together, and could provide an alibi for each other. It might still be obvious who the culprit was, but perhaps less so.

Within moments he was soaring through the night sky, the cold wind on his face. It seemed to cleanse him like a shower, dripping off any problems he had, any marks that stuck to him. Up here, he wasn't Harry Potter the Chosen One with the lightning bolt scar. He was Harry. Just Harry.

Fred's broom wasn't as fast as the Firebolt, but after so long without flying, it was good enough. It still felt as though he had been drowning all this time but had finally learnt to breathe again. He had been saved. -*He did a loop, revelling in the feeling of the wind in his hair. On his hands. He loved the way his robes trailed behind him. Everything that had been weighing down on him melted away. For the first time in months, he felt an ease in his stomach. He felt relaxed. Up here, nothing could trouble him.

Something blurred past him and he brought the broom to a halt, glancing around at the surrounding darkness in search of his attacker.

"Practising for the ballet, Potter?"

A voice came from above him and he glanced up to see the dark shape above him. He felt like a dolphin seeing a shark.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, veering out of the way. Draco slowly floated down so that they were level with each other. He looked like a ghost; his hair and skin too pale against the blackness all around them.

Draco shrugged.

"Flying."

"At night?"

"You're doing the same," Draco flew close enough to nudge Harry with his hip.

"Because I'm not allowed to," Harry said.

"I like this new, rebellious Chosen One," Draco smirked.

"You know, I came out here to forget about all that crap," Harry said. He tilted his broom upwards, but Draco followed, easily keeping pace with Fred's old broom.

"About me too?" Draco pretended to pout and Harry rolled his eyes.

"No," he said, but started the descent back to the ground. "Though you have ruined it."

"That's what I do best," Draco steaked alongside him.

Harry slid off his broom, mud squirting up his boots. He started back to the broom cupboard, tucking Fred's broom under his arm.

Suddenly Draco was in front of him, barring the way with his broom.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To bed," Harry tried to step around him, but the broom moved. Draco hovered so that Harry had to look up to glare at him. "Malfoy."

"What?" Draco said. He leant down slightly, his eyes glittering. A few strands of loose hair tickled Harry's curls. "I'm still waiting for a few answers from you."

"Like what?" Harry said. He swallowed and tried to look at Draco's eyes instead of Draco's mouth. He seemed very close, hovering just out of range.

"Like if you like me."

"I'm sure I asked you that."

"Answer the question, Potter."

"Didn't you say to wait until I could keep Snape out of my mind?" Harry smirked and stepped around Draco.

Draco grabbed his arm. Tightly.

"I trust you," he said, turning Harry so that they faced each other once more. "Mother said you'd improved at keeping people out of your mind."

Harry stared at Draco. His heart was racing.

"Yeah," he said.

"What?"

"Your question," Harry said. He felt like he was on fire. "I think - yeah."

Draco blinked.

"Alright," he said. "Then, well, yesterday when you asked about kissing? Yes."

Harry felt that was a cue to kiss Draco. He felt he should kiss Draco. But he just stood there, frozen, like an idiot. Maybe he had been jinxed after all.

Draco gave a soft chuckle, still hovering above Harry on the broom. Gently, oddly gently for Draco Malfoy, he took Harry's face in his hands.

"Come here, you prat," he muttered.

Draco Malfoy kissed Harry Potter.

And Harry Potter kissed him back.

(A/N): So I haven't actually written anything for this in a while. I'm a little bit stuck with the next chapter and it's starting to turn into social commentary a little. I have a show next week, which either means I'll be writing all the time whenever I can, or I'll give myself the day off every night. Any updates on if it I have to pospone an update will by posted on my tumblr, turnupsdrawssometimes, under the tag drarryhandinglove.