A/N: Sorry for the delay. My mum has decided she wants to do some "spring cleaning." In the summer.

Hermione took Harry back to Gryffindor Tower just before they expected everyone to be awake, and helped him sneak into his dorm. At the door, she told him firmly to go to sleep, that she would deal with the teachers and take notes for him when needed, despite Harry's protests. She wordlessly handed him a vial of Dreamless Sleep before she departed.

The first thing Draco noticed that morning was that Harry wasn't at breakfast. He could see Granger occasionally shooting him worried glances, but he could easily see that she was not worried about Harry's absence. Draco didn't know what to make of that. He also noticed that the Weasel was looking particularly sour, especially at Granger. He decided that Harry must have just slept in, despite their rough parting the night before.

When Harry didn't turn up to Transfiguration, Draco definitely became suspicious, even a tiny bit worried. Had Harry reacted that badly? Admittedly, yes, he had told Draco before that he wanted to go slow, but he could have sworn Harry was just as aroused as he was, at least until Draco saw the fear.

He was still hopeful that Harry would be in Defence Against The Dark Arts after lunch, but he was quickly resigned as Granger and Weasley walked in by themselves, Weasley still looking miffed about something Draco didn't care about.

In Potions, Draco began developing a plan. He needed to see Harry. Therefore, after classes were over, he would check the Hospital Wing. If he wasn't there, Draco would find the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, and hang around until someone let him in.

In the end, however, none of his extensive planning was needed.

"Malfoy! Hey, Malfoy!"

He pivoted on the heel of his foot in mid-stride, and came face to face with a breathless Granger and a resigned-looking Weasley. He raised an elegant brow.

"We need to talk to you," said Granger, sounding determined.

"We're talking right now," Draco drawled, determined to keep up his front.

Weasley scowled. "Somewhere private, you prat."

Granger rolled her eyes and pushed the two boys through a tapestry, where a dark room was hidden, lit only by a few candles.

"What's this about then? I do have to eat you know," said Malfoy, pointedly looking at his watch. He did it deliberately, just to see Weasley scowl.

Granger took a deep breath, but before she could say anything, Weasley leant over and muttered in her ear.

Draco caught snippets of "... Harry will kill us if he ever finds out!" and "Don't you dare stop me Ronald Weasley!"

"If I'm interrupting a lover's brawl I think I'll take my leave," he drawled, edging towards the door. In truth, he was intrigued. What could be so bad that Harry would kill them for telling? Did he want to know?

The two broke off at his words and flushed. Granger shot a look at Weasley, and this time he stayed silent, a look of dismay and betrayal on his face.

Granger faced him. "First of all, Malfoy, I need to know how serious you are about Harry."

Draco sighed. He should have known he was getting the 'harm the best friend and we'll kill you' talk.

He considered his options. He could give a non-answer, or he could somehow lie. On the other hand, Granger was known to be deadly with a wand. He decided he needed to be honest if he wanted to keep certain body parts.

He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, almost protectively. "I don't know what happened after last night."

"We know," said Granger patiently. "But what are you going to do about it?"

Draco panicked for a moment. "Wait, do you know what actually happened last night?"

Granger snorted. "Of course not. Do you really think Harry would tell us?"

"Touché," murmured Draco, before he realised they were still waiting for him to respond. "I want to see how this goes," he said slowly. "It's not some sort of prank or joke, I don't intend to publicly humiliate him, and I want to see how far we can get."

Granger nodded, apparently satisfied. Weasley still had an ugly look on his face, but then, Draco supposed, that was how he always looked in Draco's presence.

Granger looked nervously at her counterpart, obviously at a loss as to what to say next. Draco broke the silence.

"Where's Harry?"

"He's asleep, I gave him some Dreamless Sleep, so he should be knocked out for another three hours at least."

Draco frowned. Why would Harry have to sleep through the day? Unless he didn't get any sleep last night... But why would he need Dreamless?

"Look, Malfoy, this isn't easy, alright?" Granger said into the darkness.

Draco scoffed, but let her continue.

"You, you need to know some things, and we need to know how serious you are about Harry."

"Granger, I already told you – "

"Yes, I know. But that was before what I'm about to tell you. What do you know about Harry's childhood?"

"About his – I don't know, he never talks about it!"

"That's the point, Malfoy," Weasley finally growled. Granger shot him a look.

"Exactly, Malfoy. What do you know about his family?" she pressed.

Draco frowned in confusion. He had no idea where this was going. "They're muggles?"

Granger rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Malfoy, haven't you ever wondered what his family is like? Or at least why he doesn't talk about him?"

Draco stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

"They abused him, Draco. For all of his life," said Granger softly.

If he hadn't already been staring at her, his jaw probably would have dropped in shock. Malfoy's did not do dropped jaws. "I don't understand," was the diplomatic stance he came up with.

"Malfoy, how were you punished as a child?" she asked.

"I don't know, I would have a toy taken away or something. What's that got to do with Harry?"

"Everything, Malfoy. Look, we don't know much, it took long enough to get this much out of him. If Harry failed to complete a chore, he would be beaten and then thrown into the cupboard under the stairs for a week without food."

"What? But that's barbaric!" Draco exclaimed, mouth agape. "You expect me to believe that Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, was abused and beaten as a child?"

"Yeah, Malfoy, we do," growled Weasley, stepping forwards in front of Hermione. He ran a hand through his orange hair, and Draco repressed a shudder. Weasley reluctantly continued. "Malfoy, if you don't believe us, if you're serious about him, there's a scar."

Granger looked anxiously at Draco, waiting for his reaction. When he gave none, Weasley persisted. "On his lower back, just below the waistline, there's a scar. I've only seen it in the Quidditch showers, I don't think he knows I've seen it."

"So, lots of people have scars, Weasley."

Weasley looked at him intensely, and Draco met the gaze.

"He has the word "FREAK" carved into his skin."

For the second time in five minutes, Draco felt like his jaw would drop. "What?" he finally whispered.

Granger jumped back in then, giving Draco a moment to absorb the impact of the statement. "He has a word carved into his back, his bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs until he was 11. He cooked, cleaned, could do any manner of chores by the time he was seven. When he got his own room before Hogwarts, they put bars on the window, padlocks on the door and a catflap at the bottom. Every year he comes back to Hogwarts he's quiet and subdued, and we have reason to believe it's still happening."

Draco stumbled backwards until he found a wall to lean against, something to hold him up. His hands scrabbled weakly against the smooth wall, searching for something to grip.

Granger followed him. "Draco, we're telling you this because we love Harry. You need to understand what you're dealing with."

Draco started at the use of his name, but he didn't say anything.

"He may seem strong and independent on the outside, but Draco, he's so broken." Granger broke off in a whisper, as if just saying the words hurt. Weasley wrapped a comforting arm around her, and Draco just stared at the arm like it would suddenly turn into an elephant and start tap-dancing.

Just as suddenly, Granger was all business-like again. "So, Draco," she said brusquely, "If you can't deal with Harry anymore, I will obliviate you. You'll go back to normal, you'll forget about each other. If you still want to be a part of his life, I suggest you do some thinking, so you can get over whatever it is that happened last night."

"Don't obliviate me!" cried Draco, interrupted from his thoughts. Erase everything he and Harry had created? After five years of hatred and pain? Draco didn't think so.

"All right, then I think we're done here," said Granger primly, and she held out her hand. Beside her, Weasley made a strange noise.

Draco contemplated the hand for a moment as it wavered in the air. He took it slowly, meeting Granger's deep brown eyes in the dim room.

They understood each other.

Weasley made an odd facial expression, it looked like he was trying to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Draco simply nodded in return.

Without another word, the two Gryffindors left Draco in the dark to think.

He exited a few minutes later, walking in the opposite direction of the two Gryffindors. He stalked back to his own Common Room, snarling the password as he approached. His housemates looked up at him as he stormed through, and hastily bent their heads as he glared around the room. An angry Malfoy was a dangerous Malfoy, they had all learnt that lesson years ago. Some of the first years even shuttled out of the room.

But Draco didn't care about any of that, couldn't be bothered to notice. What was a little fear among housemates when his heart felt like it would break from the wave of sadness and remorse that seemed to wash through him?

He made his way to the dormitory he shared with the four other Slytherin boys in his year. Satisfied to find it empty, he cast the most powerful locking charm in his repertoire, effectively sealing his dorm-mates out until he cast the counter-charm. He also cast a one-way silencing charm, so those outside couldn't hear what he was doing, while he could still hear any normal noises beyond his door.

Satisfied, Draco let out a growl and unleashed a blasting curse at a small cabinet. It exploded, sending a shower of wooden splinters and folded robes flying into the air. He spun around, blasting another cabinet. He, almost methodically, proceeded to blast anything explodable in the room. He avoided the beds because his rational side, albeit tiny, reminded his that they were much harder to repair.

Draco eventually stood in the middle of the room, chest heaving, debris covering every available surface. Still frustrated, he snarled and carelessly tossed his wand onto a bed, and sat down next to it. He put his head in his hands, fingers clenching slightly in his hair.

This new information was affecting him more than he thought it would, he realised. He just didn't understand. Why would anyone abuse their own blood? Sure, Voldemort had been a cold-hearted, cruel nut job, but he tortured innocent people and then murdered them. In Draco's mind, they were two different situations. Wasn't there supposed to be love amongst family?

Muggles, he thought disgustedly.

In the Wizarding World, family was cherished, and child abuse was considered one of the highest crimes, alongside rape and above murder. It was an almost inconceivable notion to Draco, raised in a pure blood family, with loving and doting parents.

He let his body flop backwards, his legs hanging down the side.

Was this why Harry wouldn't let him go any further? He supposed it could be, but Draco was suspicious it was something else, though what, he had no idea. It could be that Harry still didn't trust him, even though they'd been getting along so well recently.

It was obvious that Harry had never specifically confided in Weasley and Granger, even they seemed to be in the dark about a lot of Harry's life.

Draco knew, as his heart sank, that he would need to confront Harry about what he'd learned, somehow. He dreaded that moment, but he knew it would be essential, if he and Harry were to continue with their relationship.

He didn't flinch as someone began pounding on the dormitory door. "Draco! Let us the fuck in, you know you're supposed to wank in the showers!"

Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise's crassness, but didn't respond.

He turned back to the task at hand, and was almost scandalised at the next thought. Did he want to continue their relationship? Did he want to have a relationship with an abused and broken boy?

Draco shuddered. He wanted the relationship. He wanted to learn everything about Harry, from the curves of his body, to his horrible childhood, and every thought that passed through his mind.

He realised, with wonder, that he was willing to deal with the shitload of baggage Harry struggled under the weight of.

A wave of emotion swept through his body, much of which he didn't understand. Did Harry really mean so much to him, after such a short time?

Did Draco – wait. Did he?

Draco refused to acknowledge that train of thought, filing it away for later. He didn't want to acknowledge it until he was sure.

He heard a burst of magic hit the charmed door, then a yelp. He couldn't help but chuckle. The spell he had used had a defence mechanism: if someone tried to use a simple alohamora, the door handle would try to bite off the offending wand hand. He wondered idly if it had.

"Damn it Malfoy!" he heard Blaise yell.

Draco exhaled slowly. His rage had largely abated, but he didn't particularly feel like fixing up the mess.

"Stand back," said another voice beyond the door, and Draco sat up in alarm. Keeping Pansy on the opposite side of a door was dangerous, to the door and to those facing Pansy's wrath, like he was. Hastily he fumbled for his wand, before jabbing it in the direction of the door and removing all his charms.

The door sprung open, revealing a determined Pansy, her wand pointed into the room. Blaise had his head poking around the corner, as did several nervous first years.

Draco scowled, and the first years disappeared, despite the fact that he was scowling at Pansy.

"What?" he snarled.

Pansy raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed.

She stepped through the doorway, eyeing the room warily, before waving her wand at the door carelessly. Blaise slipped through just before the door swung shut, lock clicking.

His two friends made their way across the room, Blaise staring blatantly with his mouth open. Pansy had more decorum, but couldn't suppress the disbelief in her eyes.

Draco stared at them sulkily, but refused to fix the room. He lifted his chin defiantly.

"One of your rages, I see?" asked Pansy, sitting tentatively on the bed opposite Draco. Blaise collapsed next to her, mindful of the splinters of wood littering the bed.

Draco refused to say anything.

With a sigh, Pansy gave another wave of her wand, and the room began reassembling itself, splinters of wood flying across the room, realigning and reforming those cabinets he had smashed. Shreds of material reformed into immaculate robes and re-folded themselves into the newly fixed draws.

He stared at her mulishly. All his hard work, fixed. Although he did notice smugly that Blaise was nursing a hand with an odd-shaped bite on it.

"Are you going to talk, then?" asked Pansy, inspecting a nail bed critically.

"No," he replied reluctantly.

"Did something happen with Potter?"

Draco looked up sharply, staring wildly at Blaise, like a child caught with its hands in the lolly jar.

Pansy cocked her head at Blaise.

The Italian boy shrugged. "I thought everyone knew about that Potion's assignment you two have."

Pansy's eyes narrowed, and shifted to look at Draco. "I don't think that's what has him so worried," she finally murmured, gaze never wavering.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," he attempted to reply loftily. He lay back down on the bed, and noted proudly at his tactical move. This way, he could avoid avoiding their eyes, and it would be easier to lie. Hopefully.

"A lover's spat, then?" asked Pansy mildly.

Or not. Draco lifted his head slightly, trying to gauge where she was going with this.

"Oh come on," she said, and gave an undignified snort. "You two are so obvious I'd wager even Snape could see it."

When Blaise looked at her, more than surprised, she quickly amended. "Alright, so I may have been the only one to notice. But if you know what to look for, it's obvious."

Draco groaned.

And suddenly, Pansy was not the aloof, sophisticated persona, she was the bouncy, girlish, gossipy girl that Draco had had the misfortune of putting up with for most of his life. She leant forwards from her dignified pose, arms resting against her knees, dark eyes sparkling.

"So, what happened? What did you do?"

"Why did you automatically assume it was me who fucked it all up?" he retorted effortlessly.

"Because you destroyed the room. If Potter had done something, you would be sulking," she replied promptly. "What happened?"

Draco considered what he should say. He obviously couldn't say anything about what Granger had told him, and therefore the true reason Harry had left. But he could give them a highly twisted version.

"I went too far," he admitted cautiously, sitting back up.

"Aw, did the ickle Gryffindor not like it rough?" teased Blaise.

"Don't," snapped Draco. He glared at Blaise something fierce, and his friend immediately clamped his lips shut, afraid of more retaliation.

Pansy looked almost bored. She knew Draco far better than he thought she did, and to her, it was obvious that he wasn't saying everything, and nor would he say anything more.

"Fix it," she shrugged.

Draco looked at her again, and it was in that instant that she understood how deeply he cared for the Gryffindor Golden Boy. He looked lost and alone and desperate. "I don't know how," he whispered eventually.

"Blaise, get out," she snapped sharply.

Blaise looked at her incredulously. He looked down nervously as Pansy tapped on her wand a soundless beat with her fingertips, almost nonchalant.

He was a Slytherin. Slytherin's saved their own skin. The door clicked open, and he scurried shut, slamming the door after him.

Draco bent his head to his hands again, refusing to look at Pansy.

"Romance him," she said eventually.

"What?" his voice was muffled, speaking though his hands.

"He's a Gryffindor. He's never been in love."

Never had love, more like, came a distended thought through Draco's head. He made a stifled noise, and Pansy continued.

"Send him flowers."

Draco snorted into his hands. "Send a boy flowers, really?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Merlin, Draco, you can be daft sometimes. Send him flowers that express how sorry you are. Send him flowers so he knows how sorry you are."

Draco looked up at last. "I don't think it's that simple, Pans."

"You never know. Besides, everyone loves getting flowers. It makes you feel special and appreciated."

He eyed her thoughtfully. "Alright then, what flowers should I send him?"

Harry woke up briefly, in time for dinner, but he decided against going. He would rather stay here in his bed, delaying the moment when Draco would officially break up with him. After all, after what Harry had done, who wouldn't?

The Dreamless Sleep had finally worn off, although he still felt like he could go back to sleep. He could hear the shuffling of some of his dorm-mates as they prepared to leave for dinner, but he didn't mind that none of them bothered to disturb him.

He mentally shrugged, and forced himself back to sleep. At the Dursley's, he had had much experience with getting to sleep as quickly as possible, no matter what circumstances, because he never knew when he would get the chance again.

When he woke up again, the air was considerably lighter, and he could see through a crack in his curtains, a stream of light coming from the window, indicating the next day.

With a sigh, he rolled out of bed, and prepared for a long day.

At breakfast, he noticed anxiously that Draco wasn't present. He had no idea what that meant, but he was aware of Pansy Parkinson continuously glancing his way throughout the meal.

Near the end, when Owl Post began, Harry was astonished as an unknown owl swooped in front of him, dropping off a large bunch of red and white roses. The roses had been trimmed so their stems were thornless and leafless, but the flowers themselves were beautiful and large, and smelled like Draco.

Harry stroked a rose in reverence, his eyes wide. He didn't quite understand. He had thought Draco would hate him.

He became aware of many eyes watching him, and he raised his head to glare at the hall of students. Many ducked their heads in embarrassment, but some continued to stare. Ron had an odd look on his face, something crossed between satisfaction and reluctance, and Harry noticed Ginny glaring down the table, a fork bent in her tightly clenched hand.

Hermione nudged him and gave a cough, lifting a small white card from beneath the roses. It simply had two words, written in a hand Harry was by now very familiar with.

I'm sorry.

He grinned, and kept on grinning. He couldn't believe he hadn't ruined his chances with Draco, and he refused to let anyone take it away from him. He honestly didn't care that he had been given roses; he had always thought being given flowers was such a girly thing. Being on the receiving end made him feel giddy and happy, and he knew Draco didn't think him any less manly.

Harry was still carrying the flowers as he made his way to his first class, which unfortunately Draco didn't take. Hermione stopped him outside the room, but he spoke before she could.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so,'" he threatened.

Hermione seemed to suppress a smile. "I wasn't going to do anything of the sort. I was merely going to suggest that you send the roses up to the tower, you can't carry them around all day."

"Of course I can!" Harry retorted.

Hermione looked at him, while Ron snorted beside him.

"Fine," Harry grumbled.

From the bunch of roses, he extracted a single white one. He lifted it to his nose, and again inhaled deeply. He shoved the bunch at Hermione, and she Banished them immediately.

Harry tucked his rose into a button hole, but it wouldn't stay. He tried a pocket.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and pointed her wand at Harry. A moment later, the rose had been woven into the very fabric of his robe, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he showed off his rose almost proudly, the flower resting close to his heart. The rose smelt like Draco, and the whiteness of the flower reminded Harry of Draco's hair, not that he would ever admit it out loud.

Pansy couldn't quite keep down the little smile that played across her lips as she saw Harry fuss over the rose, and she couldn't wait to relay it to Draco. She brushed past the three Gryffindors as if they weren't there, entering the classroom before them.

As it was, it was almost three lessons later before Harry had a chance to even see Draco. However, it was in Potions, and, under the watchful eye of Snape, he knew he wouldn't be able to say much, even if they were sitting next to each other.

Harry contented himself with wrapping his hand around Draco's briefly, under the table, before pulling it up to cut up some Salamander for their potion.

Draco smiled, one eye on the flower standing proudly on his partner's chest.

Please read and review!

Also, the website I visited said that white roses symbolised humility and reverence, while red roses symbolised love and respect. Please correct me if I'm wrong, or if you believe a certain flower would be more appropriate.