Ah ha! An early post! How did this happen! You have all been so good to me, I decided to get my butt in gear and post the next chapter. Hugs and kisses all around!

I would like to address one comment someone had about the last chapter. They asked how Ron could have known where to find Harry if the Manor was under Fidelius Charm. I actually had that in my notes for the story when I was writing it but for some reason it got left out. Long story short, Ron knew that Harry was good friends with Pansy so he visited her and told her why he wanted to get in touch with him. As her Floo was connected to the Manor and she had access (sort of like when Harry is brought to Grimmuald Place for the first time in the books) he was able to contact Draco. Of course, Pansy would be difficult about it but he was genuine about wanting to ask Harry for forgiveness so she gave in at the end. XD I apologize for forgetting about this and should really have slipped it in somewhere in the story. Hope that clears it up! Also some people were worried about Hermione and that I might have forgotten about her. Not to worry! This is only the first half of a two part fic. Her story will be told!

Thanks! Now back to our regular programming. Please Enjoy!


Seven:

February gave slow and grudging way into March. More than a week had passed since the night Draco had fallen asleep in the destroyed space of his mother's sitting room with Harry's head on his shoulder. The storm, when it had finally blown itself out, had dumped drifts upon drifts of snow onto the countryside, making the clearing of roads for the Muggles difficult. The house elves could clean up the pathways on the Manor property with very little effort but that did little good once they left the property. So if they wanted to leave the grounds, they needed to wait for the inefficient process the Muggles used.

Draco found himself at turns grateful for the delay and restless to be free of the Manor. Grateful because he was still nervous taking Harry outside the ward's protections. Anything could go wrong and when it was anything, he could not be sure he was prepared for it. One of the house elves would come with them, ordered to remain hidden unless they had need of protection. Unfortunately, house elves were strongest within the property they were bound to and could only stand up to full fledged wizard if they managed to take them by surprise if they were outside it. Leaving was a great risk.

Yet, Draco could see the way Harry looked out the windows, staring through the glass with longing filling his face. It would be good for him to get out of the house. His excitement was a nearly tangible current that Draco found himself sharing with the other man, filling the spaces between them during meals and quiet moments in the library. He remembered from school how Harry would be out of doors nearly all day on the weekends they got lucky and the weather was nice. Whether it be flying or mucking about by the lake, it was clear he didn't like being trapped indoors for long periods of time.

How long had Alex had Harry chained up in that flat? Chained to a single wall in a single room, for hours, for days, many times without a single trace of human kindness or company. For someone who had such a restless spirit as Harry, it was one of the cruellest things that could have been done to him. It wasn't something Draco had thought about until the other man had asked him about leaving the Manor. The blond had observed this about him when they were younger, yes, but he had never seen naked longing to be out there, free, unconfined by man-made walls like he had in the past week. It wasn't about responsibility; Harry had that in spades, the prime example his destruction of the Dark Lord. It was about the simple yet underestimated joy of being able to go out and see other things, like the open sky and the faces of people never encountered before and air not yet breathed.

Draco understood this because sometimes he would see the same expression in the mirror.

Sometimes, he wanted nothing more than to take out a broom and greet the sky just for the sake of that feeling of freedom but all the Manor's brooms had been taken away. Sometimes, he wished to walk down the streets of a Wizarding community and not be in constant fear of being driven away. Sometimes, he wonders why he stayed here at all.

Still caught in the web of his father's folly, he was able to read Harry's desire and found that he knew it very well, as he longed for the same, though for different reasons.

Logically, he knew that the other man's request meant he was growing confident enough that he no longer wished to hide. Of course they couldn't go anywhere Harry would be recognized, for his face would undoubtedly be plastered all over the papers the following morning. But he still wanted to get out and that was a vast improvement from when he wouldn't even leave his room. That he was able to want that, the need to get out and do something meant he had made a huge stride in his recovery.

Letting himself get caught in Harry's excitement, Draco was able to tell himself he had forgotten all about the morning they had woken up together in the midst of broken glass and furniture. Not that he wanted to, but rather needed to for the sake of his own sanity. Because he wanted it to happen again so badly, the cavity under his ribs ached with it. Because he wanted so much more, he was afraid he would go and take it even though Harry was surely neither interested nor ready for it. Even so, even knowing all of this, it didn't make the throbbing burn of his desire any less. Now that it had been ignited, the blaze was so bright he felt it would consume his very soul. He could not hope to ever extinguish it again.

That morning had been the very best. And the very worst.

It had not happened by design. He wouldn't do something like that, for both his own sake and Harry's. But it happened anyway and sometimes accidents had more impact than something that had been planned.

Draco had woken sluggishly not from the cold but because he was sleeping funny on his arm and it was going numb. The first thing he was able to discern was that it was still rather early. There was light spilling into the room from the windows but not much and even with cloud cover, it was still a bit too grey to be anything but early. For a moment he let this sink in, feeling tired and rather grey himself, thinking of nothing other than the fact that he should probably move his arm before the numbness became painful.

Only, as it turned out, he wasn't the one sleeping on his arm at all.

That wasn't what he became aware of next, for he could tell at once that he was not sleeping on the comfort of a mattress. As a matter of fact, he didn't realize the one using his arm as a pillow had a wild thatch of dark curls and was breathing slow, steady puffs of warm air against the blond's shoulder. Draco noticed it was the floor he was curled up on, hard marble making his back ache, though that could have been what felt like a splintered piece of couch gouging into his spine. There was a soft, fluffy blanket thrown carefully over his shoulders, one he recalls typically warming his own bed and a charm had been cast on it so he was wrapped in a bubble of heat. Last night he remembered feeling the chill seeping up through the tiles and under his skin but that morning…

Last night…

His eyes had flown open at once and he had lain very, very still. Because he wasn't in his own bed and he certainly had not moved Harry from his shoulder before drifting off. Which could only mean that the warmth he felt pressed against his side, the heat he had assumed came from the warming charm placed on the blanket that must have been tucked not only around himself but the other man as well, was, in reality, Harry. Harry pressed against his side, dark head on Draco's outstretched arm, the warmth of him so very alive. It made the blond catch his breath on a painful hitch and wonder if perhaps he was dreaming. But no, the night before had really happened and the morning would play out, as it must.

As it did.

It could have been minutes he lay there wide awake, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling and counting every breath Harry touched upon Draco's shoulder. It could have been hours. He wasn't quite sure but he knew that he didn't care. In fact, he could have lain there forever like that, cataloguing the way a slender hip felt pressed against his own, the weight of a careless hand rested on his stomach, the curl of another's calf fit around one of his own. It was so intimate, something he had never had with another human being before. That it wasn't even in a bed didn't matter. The discomfort in his back and shoulder from lying all night on unforgiving marble mattered so little next to this. And it wasn't just the intimacy of waking with another person curled around him but that it was the person he was desperately in love with.

This was the way he imagined waking up for years, in the hopeless way anyone dreams of holding the unattainable. Yes, he would indeed stay like that forever. But what he really wanted, as unrealistic as it might have been, was for a single moment for Harry to be in love with him as well. A moment of that over an eternity of reality.

He didn't even want to think of the other consequences at the moment, including what Harry's reaction might be when he woke up and became aware of Draco's morning stiffie that had turned into a full-fledged hard on thanks to the direction of his thoughts. It wasn't fair, he thought, wishing just for a second he was allowed the weakness of tears. It wasn't fair that everything he had ever wanted was right here, pressed all against his side and breathing so soft and disarming. All he could do was lay as quietly as possible while he burned with the need to turn on his side and wrap his arms around the man whose breath warmed Draco's skin. It was comparatively easier not to think about where and how he wanted to rub his erection, though the thrum of arousal between his thighs was impossible to completely ignore.

He felt a flare of panic the moment the other man stirred, his breath hitching, becoming irregular as sleep fell away from him. The hand draped over his abdomen curled into a fist and pulled at the material of his shirt before falling open again. The leg curled between his own shifted, moved alarmingly higher and the bony hip pressed more insistently into his own. Draco was grateful Harry stopped his movements before they could cause sufficient embarrassment for both of them, though it could certainly be explained away with the "it's the morning" excuse. The blond just preferred not to use it, afraid of what expression he might see on Harry's face if he did.

As it was, he was bracing himself for the negative reaction he was sure he was going to get when the other man realized in what position they had spent the night curled in. Or, more importantly, curled in together. A minute ticked by, stretched into two and though he was sure Harry was awake now, there was no flailing limbs or a hurried, terrified retreat. No sound came from the man at his side except for the small whispers of his breathing. Maybe Harry realized and had done the same thing as Draco had and gone as still as possible. He didn't feel as if he had tensed but after how many months with an abusive, psychotic ex, he was probably quite good at acting.

Only, when Draco let impatience get the better of him and he turned his head so he could see the dark haired man, there was no disgust or fear or discomfort in the dreamy greenish gaze that blinked at him from behind crooked glasses. Just quiet, somewhat sleepy surprise.

"Good morning," Harry's voice was rough, thickened with sleep and whatever dreams he had seen behind his eyelids. Obviously no nightmares for the blond would have been awakened by the fearful struggles that usually accompanied them. It made Draco wonder. Was it because the other man had not slept alone that he hadn't dreamed or was it because the person whom he slept beside he trusted, felt safe with. It was a hope too bright for the blond to contemplate for very long but the tingling reality of it didn't go away.

No, it burst into glorious, glaring flames because after Harry said good morning, he smiled. Smiled, a slow yet open thing that shone like honey in sunlight and made Draco's heart completely falter in his chest. Smiled like he was happy to find himself using the blond's arm as a pillow after spending a night on the floor with hard marble and wooden splinters for a bed. Smiled. Oh, how he smiled. It stole everything from the blond and gave him back even more until he knew nothing but that beautiful, breathtaking, soul-stealing smile. It made him feel wobbly, like he was going to fall over even though he was already lying down. He felt unbalanced, too full and, well, it didn't help his erection at all, either. There was something he should respond with, he knew this but whatever it might have been was blown away by the sweetness of Harry's half-lidded eyes and his good morning smile.

Finally Draco was able to croak out a greeting, hoping the other man took the roughness of his voice from just waking as well. The green eyes had remained fixed on him and the dark head unmoving on his arm until he couldn't take it anymore. He was either going to roll Harry over and have his way with him or he was going to explode, messily, all over the room. Maybe bits of Draco would go with the décor. Somehow, he managed dig up a few coherent words out of the untidy muddle his brain had tangled itself in, "Sorry but…my arm is a bit numb," and tried for a smile of his own, though his suspected it came out a bit sour.

"Oh! Sorry," Harry moved quickly away, nearly knocking his knee into the blond's groin but Draco was glad because it gave him an excuse to curl his own legs up towards his chest in an attempt to hide the tent that would surely give away his physical state. As soon as the other man's head lifted from his arm, though, a tingling rush moved in and he winced, trying to hold as still as possible so he could keep the worst of the pins and needles at bay as he sat up. The blanket that had covered both of them tumbled to his lap and tangled around Harry's legs as he propped himself up against the wall. For a moment Draco wondered if things were about to get awkward but when he looked at the other man, still huddling his tingling arm in his lap while trying to avoid his slowly receding hard on, the green eyes were bright and full lips still curled upwards in a shadow of a smile.

"I don't even remember dozing off," an upwards sweep of slender shoulders and corners of full lips lifted before the dark head tilted when Harry laughed a soft, tinkling laugh, "I would have the best night's sleep while on the floor," Draco caught himself before he could say why he thought that might be, a lot of which because of the blond's presence. It was logical but perhaps not something the other man wanted to hear.

"No Sleeping Draughts, either," he reminded Harry gently, which made the dark haired man grin. It was such a free expression, trusting and full of the simple emotion of relief and happiness. And sleeping without the aid of a potion was something to be happy about because that meant that Harry had the capability of sleeping through the night without being haunted by nightmares. The dark haired man hummed a soft, satisfied noise as he raised his knees and propped his chin on them. If Draco had hoped he'd be able to stand up without humiliating himself, that little noise poked a hole in that theory and the blond nearly huffed aloud in exasperation.

"I did have a dream, though," Harry said softy, thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on a spot in the distance, "I don't really remember what it was about. Everything's already kind of fuzzy but…it was nice. Safe," he tipped his dark head to the side, his wild curls sliding over his shoulder. The clear emerald of his eyes flickered briefly to Draco's face, deep and assessing but they didn't linger and for that he was glad. He didn't know what his face would give away and Harry was becoming more and more perceptive at reading the blond. Which made sense, as they had been nearly constant companions for the last month. Only when Pansy visited did they have contact with someone other than each other.

Draco couldn't let Harry see how his words made his heart skip and his breath catch sharply in his chest.

Jet had come in after that, casting a disgruntled look around at the ruined room before announcing breakfast. Draco was reluctant to let the quiet, sleepy moment between them slip away but Harry was already untangling himself from the blanket and getting to his feet. It wasn't until later that he realized that while their moment waking nearly tangled together was gone and not likely to happen again, something had changed between them. He couldn't say what it was or how this something had changed but it was there, like the heavy weight before a storm, waiting to break. It wasn't really heaviness in the true sense of the word but it was there and its presence carried a kind of weight of its own. What it was, he could not, for the life of him, name. All he knew was that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

A week and a half later, Draco was still trying to figure it out. In his dreams, he would see the way Harry looked when he woke up, how he blinked slowly like he was trying to focus through molasses, how he smiled and stole just a little bit more of the Draco's heart. During the day he put it out of his mind because he wanted it so much and it would do neither of them any good if he started to pine after it. It wasn't going to happen a second time so it did no good to continue to hope for it. At night, however, his dreams were much more honest.

They also planned the little outing they had spoke about in the days that followed. It was just a romp into town, and a Muggle one at that, but it didn't matter. For Harry it was a chance at change, at escape. For Draco, it wasn't something as tangible as that, though it was certainly part of it. He used to hate walking into town every week or two to make sure he didn't starve, dragging items from his childhood home, things that belonged to his mother, his father, his grandparents. But he had gotten over the dislike for the chore, as it offered most of the human interaction he got for several years. Yet this time he wouldn't have to go alone. Well, he wasn't quite sure what to make of that. He was excited, certainly, but there was something else. It was like that non-heaviness that now resided between him and Harry, indefinable but there all the same.

Pansy had picked up on it the third day after he and Harry woke up tangled on the floor of a broken sitting room, able to see it even through the green flames when she fire called. Her stay was inexplicably extended, though she acted strangely elusive when he asked why. Her dark eyes that looked odd in sage colored fire but they were as direct as ever.

"Draco Malfoy, what have you done?" she had asked and if she could, he thought she would have had her hands on her hips. He had wondered if maybe he looked guilty for some reason and then he realized what she was talking about. He never had been any good at hiding things from Pansy. Not that he was trying to hide this but he was admittedly afraid she would talk him out of it. And she did try, when he explained Harry's request for leaving the Manor, "You know how much of a risk that is, darling," she had all but hissed, eyebrows wrinkled and drawn with worry, "What if he's recognized? That's all Harry needs. The papers were told he's out of the country on a job and won't be back for a while. If he's spotted…" Draco knew the risks; he didn't need her to remind him.

"It's an entirely Muggle town," he'd said as soothingly as he could, "And Harry asked for this. We can't not go, Pans," it hadn't helped any, nor erased any of the concern that was drawing lines over her pretty features. He wanted to reassure her more but even he knew this was probably not the best of ideas. Who knew the methods Alex had to find Harry? Surely he'd been looking ever since the dark haired man had been moved into the safety of the Manor. Pansy's face had flickered in the flames, like she had glanced quickly over her shoulder and her voice could have been mistaken for the crackle of the fire had he not been listening closely.

"Draco, you shouldn't do it. I'm not in Rome by choice. Alex, he…he came to the house. Only Miguel was there at the time, thank Merlin. He knows how to…track people through the Floo," her hand came out of nowhere and rubbed across her face, making the fire flicker oddly. A flash of dread curled in Draco's stomach, trying it 'round like knots, "If we hadn't put the Manor under Fidelius…" she trailed off, biting her lip. The blond took a deep breath.

"He would have simply found us sooner by a different method. Which was why we did it," Draco reached through the flames and touched the side of her face, "Look at me, Pansy. Harry had no previous connection to me. As a matter of fact, even you didn't. Our only connection is Hogwarts and there are dozens of other people Harry could conceivably be staying with to avoid being found. There is nothing to suggest I have anything to do with it. That's why we did this," her dark eyes flickered uneasily to his but he could see her fear easing slightly. It disturbed him that Alex had found his way into her home but he was glad she had not been there when he was.

"And if he does find us," he said, just before they ended their call, "I will never let him have Harry," his statement had made his childhood friend smile softly at him, though her anxiety did not abate.

"I know, darling," she had taken a deep breath then given him a direct look that made him wish he could hide, "When will you tell him, Draco? Harry deserves to know how you feel," if he could have hid, he would. Instead he looked away and sat back.

"It doesn't matter, Pansy," he'd said, sounding tired even to his own ears, "As of right now, I can't tell him. Enjoy Rome, love," and the call was ended.

Later that day, he caught Harry watching him carefully, face closed off and eyes hidden behind the shine of his glasses. Nothing was said but he got the feeling that the other man wanted to say something, like he had a question but he couldn't bring himself to voice it. It made Draco nervous but he couldn't explain why.

The strange heaviness between them deepened.


The day of their trip into town dawned bright and almost warm.

Though it was the very beginning of March and several feet of snow had just been dumped on them, with the sun climbing into the sky it was bearable. The storm had been rather late for that time of year but he could remember a few that came later so they could possibly get another if the weather was so inclined. He rather hoped not as winter was not his most favorite season. It was bleak and cold and the long hours without sunlight had always just reminded him again how isolated he really was. Perhaps he wasn't so alone anymore but only time would tell if the way he viewed winter would change. He rather thought not.

Harry was fairly vibrating with anxiety. They ate breakfast, for the first time, in Draco's private lounge off his bedroom. It was strange to wake up and step from his room to find the other man sprawled on the huge, cushy couch. His dark head was propped up on a tasseled pillow as his clear green eyes stared out the window that looked out over the apple and cherry groves which would bloom in white and pink come spring. Now the branches hung naked and dead, waiting patiently for the winter to relinquish its hold on the world. Draco was a little surprised that Harry didn't have a book open in front of him since lately he was fairly glued to the pages of one book or another. The slender hands were still on the other man's lap and he only looked around when the blond cleared his throat.

"This is new," Draco remarked, moving to sit on the other side of the couch. The dark head followed his progress, curls obscuring the emerald gaze so it was hard to guess at what Harry might be thinking as he watched the blond. It was the first time Draco had been in the other man's presence in only his pajamas but he could not think why that would make those full lips curl strangely in what was almost a frown but not quite. There was a short, heavy pause where he was conscious of nothing but the weight of Harry's gaze on him, unnerving since he couldn't quite see it. It was almost as if someone else was looking at him, studying him, staring at him. Or, if not someone else but another part of Harry that had Draco had yet to see. Then the dark head tilted and the strange expression his lips had twisted into faded into a small smile.

"Morning. I hope you don't mind me being in here," just like that, Harry was back to himself, no trace of the odd moment or the weight of his eyes left. It was just Harry, with his bright gaze the color of spring grass, peeking out from behind onyx curls while his voice and the lift of one shoulder remained shy and unsure. Draco wondered if he had caught a glimpse of the true Harry, the one he was before, though the blond could still feel his own unease tightening his shoulders. Whatever that was, he didn't know what to make of it and he let it fade as he responded.

"Of course not. Just surprised. You haven't shown an interest in seeing my rooms," he made his voice as easy and light as he could, "They are not so different from yours. In fact, the ones you have now were part of this suite," too many rooms. When he was sixteen, it was a distinguishing number since none of his friends had quite as many as he had. But all too soon things like that stopped mattering and he liked that Harry was making use of them now.

"I just wasn't sure if you didn't want me in here. You never invited me in," it was a bit of a shock to realize that this was true. He indeed hadn't invited the other man to come to his rooms. It was usually Harry's sitting room they would frequent, especially at first when the dark haired man didn't want to leave them. A precedent had been started, he supposed and by then it was just natural for Draco to dress and knock on Harry's door so they could have breakfast together. He was certainly not adverse, however, to the switch. In fact, he was rather delighted with it. The other man looked perfectly at home on the couch in Draco's lounge and he decided he could certainly get used to it.

"I am sorry for that. As you know, I'm not used to having to invite people anywhere," he gave an apologetic little shrug, almost missing the way the green eyes darkened a fraction, "If you were not welcome, I would simply lock the door," that made the other man utter a surprised little laugh, the sound of it clean and bright in the light of the clear winter morning, "Is there a reason for this or were you merely curious?" he knew part of the reason already and the sheepish way the dark haired man grinned solidified Draco's suspicions.

"I admit to a fair amount of curiosity," he conceded, brushing a few curls from his face back absently, "But I guess I'm a little bit like a kid at Christmas. Can't stay in their room waiting to open their presents," he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, face turning adorably pink. Draco decided that it was a good look for him, especially when the corners of his eyes crinkled just like that, making his eyes shine and his eyelashes look even darker than they were. Merlin's beard, the man was beautiful. The blond told himself to breathe. Breathing was good.

"Yes, it is good to be able to get out of this house for a while," Draco pieced his words together while carefully not looking at Harry. Or his wild curls. Or his bright green eyes. Or his lovely hands that were absently following the swirls on the pattern of the couch. Taking a deep breath, the blond steadied himself and plastered on a smile when he looked up again, "I will call Kimble for breakfast and then we can get ready to go. Sound good?" and how could he not be caught up in the way the other man's face lit up, so bright Draco could not hope to drag his gaze away.

"Sound's brilliant!"


It was the first time Draco made this trip in someone else's company.

Harry walked right next to him, close enough that sometimes the back of their gloved hands would brush or he could feel the swirl of the other man's cloak against his calves. The cold, hard sunlight of winter was slowly becoming not so cold or hard. It seemed as if, now that one big storm had been dumped upon them, the weather decided enough was enough. It still wasn't, however, warm enough to be outside without charmed cloaks lined with fur and hats, gloves and boots to match. It had been a bitter winter and they had a long ways to walk. It took a good two to two and a half hours to make this trip one way; the Malfoys had made sure their property would remain isolated.

All the Manor paths had been cleared and the Muggles had cleaned up their roads by now as well, though the sun would undoubtedly have melted any stray patches. Though the snow on the lawns and under the trees was still quite high, Draco could tell it was starting to look a bit flatter, losing inches under the bright face of the sun. Small, wet paths of melting water darkened spots on the roads and his heart soared a little to see it. Melting snow could only be a good omen.

Harry looked a wonder in his outerwear. Everything he wore had been gifts from Pansy. All the warming charms sewn into the fabric would keep him from getting even the slightest chill no matter how long they remained out of doors. Everything fit Harry perfectly and Draco admired how fine he looked in them. His own winter attire was once his father's as his old winter clothing no longer fit and the expensive cologne his father used to wear still clung faintly to the fur lining of the cloak. The set of winter clothes fit him eerily well, making him wonder if, had his father lived, they would be the same height. The entire set was black, cloak, gloves, hat, and embroidered in black silk thread. The fur lining, however, was a rich silver pelt that flashed bright against the black outer material when he moved. It had looked impressive on his father but he suspected that it made him look simply washed out.

Though not a colour Draco would have expected to look good on the other man, the dove grey of Harry's cloak looked smashing on him. The fur lining was the colour of snow and there was scrolling silver embroidery worked around the edges. It was held closed with a silver clasp worked into the shape of a rearing unicorn. The hat that came with it matched the fur lining and the gloves were a rich, soft grey leather lined with the same, snowy fur. Oh, and the boots. Made from the finest dragon leather, also a soft grey in colour and lined with that white fur that had been charmed not to crush, they fastened right under the knee with a long row of tiny silver buckles.

"Won't the Muggles think us wearing cloaks is odd?" the other man had asked when he had slipped on the cloak, fingers running in awed wonder over the soft, downy fur. Draco, hungrily watching Harry's reaction, had simply shrugged as he handed the dark haired man the boots that had also come with the set.

"They think it's because I'm rich and a bit eccentric. I do have regular coats but I find cloaks to be much warmer. No one has remarked upon it yet, don't worry," and then he had to stop talking or risk saying something stupid because Harry had put the first boot on. Draco could see them now, flashes of them every time the other man lifted his knee to take a stride. They fitted the slender calves to perfection, giving them a clean, sexy line. Of course, it wasn't only how the boots fit that the blond couldn't stop staring at. He also loved how the sunlight caught in the black curls that escaped from under the fur hat, toying with them and making them shine. He loved how the cold had nipped at Harry's cheeks and the tip of his nose, turning them red. He loved how the air misted white for a couple of seconds every time the other man breathed out and how his eyes shone like gems from behind his glasses.

Yes, he loved all of that but what he loved the most, what he would cherish in his memory was how utterly happy Harry looked.

Such a simple thing, really, a walk down a few country lanes with snow sparkling all around them and bare tree limbs clacking in the gentle breeze. Just a bit of sunlight and fresh air but that was all it took. This man had been locked away for Merlin knows how long, kept in the dark, away from all that was bright and good. He was neglected and abused by turns, treated so abominably, he was quite literally not the same man he had been. Draco could see how sometimes it still haunted him, clouding his gaze and making him look ten years older than he was. Hollow. Broken.

How could Alex have preferred that version of Harry when this one, the one walking beside Draco at that very moment, was a million times more beautiful? It was unfathomable. Unthinkable. Everything that Harry was should have been cherished, nurtured. So that, when the time came, his eyes could turn the very colour of spring, of hope, of everything right. Every minute, the dark head turned at least four or five dozen times, trying to take it all in. Even though the air was still frozen, he breathed in deeply, no doubt enjoying the cold burn in his lungs as he savoured the clean, sharp scent of the world around them. There was nothing but great open fields and rows of leafless trees in the area immediately surrounding the Manor but that seemed to be enough.

"When it gets a little warmer, perhaps I can persuade Pansy into bringing us a couple brooms and we could go flying," Draco said sometime in between Harry's great gulps of air and furious head-swivelling. He didn't want to think about the reason why she wouldn't be back for a while so he didn't. It was worth it to have Harry's head jerk around, eyes so huge the blond could see his own reflection in them, the full lips parted in hopeful wonder.

"I would like that," the man breathed then burst into a grin that shone enough to dim the very sun.

Most of the time, though, they didn't speak. They didn't really need to. They had been in the same house together for a month, with mostly just each other and three house elves for company. There were still many important things left unsaid between them, pertaining to things either one or the other didn't wish or didn't want to address. This was fine, though, for the moment; the comfortable silence was becoming more and more familiar. While used to the bitter silence of being alone, this one between them was full, rich. Like they knew they didn't have to fill every gap with something and, in turn, this made the things that were voiced aloud that much more meaningful. And this was not the time for a big, heavy discussion on pasts and reasons and issues of broken hearts and broken trust.

This was a time for them to walk, to breathe, to touch shoulders, elbows, hands, to catch each other's eyes, to smile, to laugh, to be free. This was a time for Harry to kick happily at the snow banks on the side of the road and fling his head back as if to drink in the rays of the sun. To sneak a handful of snow down the back of Draco's cloak, making him shriek from the shock of cold and indignation, then run away laughing, hat sitting askew upon his dark curls. To howl when the blond retaliated with a barrage of snowballs, scooping up a few of his own until the air became so thick with flying snow and rich laughter. Anyone coming down the lane would think they were a couple of hyper school boys. It was a time to surrender with raised hands and a smile that stretched clear across his face, hair now dripping icy water onto his glasses (thankfully, the cloaks were charmed to keep them dry even if dunked into a pond). This was a time for all of that without the weight of what they had come from casting a dark pall.

If Harry could continue to smile like this forever, carefree and like he had nothing to lose, Draco would need nothing more.

They reached the town around midday, a little tired from a second round of lets-see-who-can-hit-who-with-more-snow and their stomachs rumbling rather loudly. The town itself was, he supposed, rather small. There were several main streets that ran through it, only a few blocks lined with stores while the rest was residential. It was a nice place, where the buildings were all old and made mostly from stone, where the people were not poor but weren't rich either, where no one needed to be afraid of wandering around at night because everyone knew everyone else. Best of all, if either he or Harry were to get second glances as they walked down the mostly empty streets, it was because Draco had not been there in a while and it was the first time he brought someone else with him. Not because Draco Malfoy the Death Eater was walking down the street with Harry Potter.

At this time of day there were a few people out on the streets but because it was still cold out, they bustled to their destinations, heads mostly down under their hoods. He was a little relived because he didn't want to talk to anyone just yet. It was inevitable but he wanted to watch how Harry couldn't stop looking around him, eyes flickering every which way in order not to miss anything for just a little longer.

Most of the streets were paved with regular smooth black stuff Draco didn't know the name of but the sidewalks had been kept their original cobblestone, rounded with years and years of feet treading upon them. They went well with the houses and the wrought iron street lamps, though he supposed they were like that less for the ambience it gave off than the towns peoples' desire to change them. Snow dripped off the roofs, sometimes on their heads as they walked under them, and melted in puddles on the sides of the road. Cars, those loud, monstrous metal machines the Muggles drove that Draco still couldn't get used to, would swing past them every once and a while, though that didn't happen too often, for which he was glad.

The first time he saw a car, he had nearly screamed and ran, almost dropping his armful of groceries he had been carrying at the time. It was terrifying, moving at speeds he had only seen brooms go, except the car had been forty times bigger and made out of unforgiving metal. It was in no way close to him, rumbling down the other end of the street and had not, he discovered in time, been moving all that fast. Apparently there were limits to how fast a car could go in certain places. The Muggles had looked at him a little oddly when he asked about it, fear still colouring his voice, but he bluffed his way through it by saying he didn't get out much. Which was true.

Now he didn't jump every time one passed by but they still made him nervous. What was to stop one from jumping over the curb and chasing them down the sidewalk? It was ridiculous and he knew that but the irrational fear never really went away. Thankfully, today was rather quiet. He supposed that might be because it was lunch time, a fact his stomach kept reminding him of in regular intervals.

"How did you find this town?" Harry asked as they walked, hands now tucked inside his cloak for added warmth. It was an innocent question and a valid one, for Draco had been known for his dislike of Muggles when they were in school. Even so, he didn't like being reminded of those awful couple of weeks he had struggled to survive, forced to sell his parents things just so he could eat. He didn't like remembering how hungry he had gotten before he broke down and did what he needed to do. Now he had enough money saved up to keep him for a little while, which he had allowed the house elves access to so they could worry about the food. There would come a time, though, when he would have to come back here and try and sell some more.

"Well," he said slowly, avoiding a dip in the cobblestones that was filled with icy water, "We always knew this town was here. It's been here nearly as long as the Manor, if any of the family history books are correct," Draco shrugged and hoped that the other man wouldn't pursue it. It wasn't a happy tale to recount by any means. Harry was looking at him closely, though, slowing down noticeably so the blond was forced to either swing around to face him or to match his pace. He chose the latter because he wasn't sure what Harry would find hiding away in his eyes.

"You seem to be very familiar with it," Harry was nothing if not tenacious, a trait Draco usually admired. Unless, of course, it was being turned on him, "Do you come here often?" there was a hint of steel in Harry's voice and the blond sighed, seeing that the other man was hardly going to let this go. In an entirely different context, he realized it was a good thing that Harry was pushing his questions. Before, he always backed down, even that time when he asked about why Draco talked to thin air. While he had asked, when he saw the blond was not going to answer it, he dropped the subject. This time it appeared Draco was out of luck.

"I…did not have any money right after my…after my trail," the words felt like they were trying to serrate his throat. The green eyes were still watching him but he could not read the emotion behind them so he looked up the street they were walking, watching a few shop signs swinging and creaking in the breeze, "There was a few Galleons in my father's vault but it was clear, by the way I had been treated at my trial and the scorn I received leaving the Ministry afterwards, I could not go into a Wizarding shop and buy what I needed. I could not Apparate either and Wiltshire is much too far from Diagon Alley to walk," he shifted his shoulders under the heavy weight of his cloak, suddenly feeling stifled. Still those clear eyes were watching him.

"So you came here," Harry said softly, wonderingly, dark curls catching on his eyelashes as he blinked in the sunlight, "But you couldn't use Galleons here," Draco fiddled with the clasp nestled over his clavicle, the silver ridges of the snake's scales cool to the touch.

"No, and I knew that," he took one deep breath then another, watching how it puffed out from his lips, misty and pale, "I…sold a dress of my mother's. There is a shop here for that kind of thing and…" he swallowed then caught Harry's eye, "I needed to be able to eat and I couldn't think of another way," his voice sounded weak and breathless, almost a mere whisper and he looked away in shame, hating that the dark haired man had to see this weakness. Before he could dwell on it too much, though, there was a gentle touch on his elbow and he was being dragged to a halt. The green eyes shone like faceted jewels in the light with compassion and regret.

"I'm sorry that it came to that, Draco. If I had known, I would have—" the blond jerked his arm away before he could think about how warm and comforting Harry's touch was, his throat tight and aching.

"Would have what, Harry? What could you have done if you had known?" it came out harsh, harsher than he would have liked and Draco nearly winced at the sound of it. This was why he didn't want the other man to know. He didn't want his pity. Rather, he didn't want to need it. He wanted to keep the feelings between them positive; he admired Harry, admired his strength, his beauty, his determination and the way he refused to allow the thing that had happened to him completely break him. If it had been complete, they would not be where they were now, walking wintry streets under the sunlight. Not once did Draco pity him, not in the true sense of the word. He wanted him, wanted to make him better, to protect him, to bring his smile back but everything he had done had been out of love.

While Draco knew that whatever Harry did feel for him did not come from the same place, he hoped that there was something genuine behind it all. There seemed to be, especially now that the other man trusted him. The bright gaze continued to bear into him, the air becoming like frozen ghosts between them.

"I would have at least tried to help you get your life back, rather than just letting you…fade," Harry's voice was soft and full of sincerity. It was that same sincerity that the other man seemed to approach everything with. Draco selfishly didn't want to be thrown in with the rest of that everything. Aching with a long, familiar ache and wishing Harry wasn't so bloody fair, he shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably and said the first thing that he could think of in hopes of cutting off this conversation.

"Always the Saviour, huh?" he muttered, scrubbing one gloved hand over his face. The scrape of the soft leather felt raw against his skin, catching on nearly invisible stubble. Though the words themselves were not meant harshly, his voice still snagged on the rough edges of his emotions. Harry lifted one shoulder and the corner of his mouth tilted down in a crooked frown.

"Not really. If I were, I would have gone into the Aurors. As it was, I had been guaranteed a spot in their ranks after the war," it was his turn to lift one slender shoulder and his cloak flittered around his frame, "But I'm not," his gaze was brutally honest and Draco found he couldn't look away. Was there anything in the world as green as Harry's eyes? In that moment, he was sure there wasn't, "It's just, when I see an injustice, if there is something I can do about it, I will," and wasn't that the truth. Except, the blond thought mournfully, wishing he could reach out a hand and touch the neat curve of the other man's cheekbone, Harry had gotten caught up in his own injustice and had been unable to escape in time. Or maybe there was time but he just didn't see it coming. It was Draco's turn to frown, slender brows knitting together above his long, straight nose.

"You didn't do anything about yours, though, did you?" finally, those piercing eyes flickered away and the intent look on Harry's face morphed into unease and pain. They both knew it was only the truth, of course but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Draco wished he hadn't spoken them aloud. With a sigh, he gave in to the impulse to reach out one hand and gently touch the other man's forearm in a gesture of apology. It ended quickly, that tiny little touch but his heart lifted when Harry smiled fetchingly at the blond from under the shadow of his white fur hat. Draco wished in that moment he could lean forward and steal that smile right from those full lips. To quell the desire, he had to turn away, hoping it looked like his cheeks merely burned from the cold.

"Yes, so," the blond cleared his throat because his voice sounded as if he had swallowed a bucket of sand, "Would you like to eat lunch? There's a place around the corner that makes decent sandwiches and their tea is quite good," he could feel Harry beside him, still watching him with that pretty smile gracing his lips. It was disconcerting but it still made his heart beat just a little bit faster. Trying to ignore it, Draco started walking again, picking up a brisk pace and forcing the other man to either follow or get left behind. He heard Harry chuckle softly, a deep, lovely sound that hummed through the blond's nerves and made them heat, a burst of warmth lighting up his entire body. He suspected the chuckle was for the blush still darkening his cheeks but even so, he pocketed a little bit of that sound so it could continue to warm him through the rest of the day.

The little café they stepped into for lunch was warm and decorated in dark rich browns and shiny yellow brass. When he had first started coming into town, he had been forced to eat in the Muggle establishments merely because his visits were all-day affairs and it was hard to walk all the way back to the Manor while carrying his groceries for the week on an empty stomach. Draco hadn't wanted to admit anything the Muggles made was any good but this café far exceeded his ungracious expectations. There was one pub open in the afternoon he sometimes went into and a restaurant that served mostly fish that he was sure never to step foot in again after one unfortunate incident. It was a small enough town that there really wasn't much to choose from but he was fine with continuing to frequent the little café.

The older gentleman who worked behind the counter, whose name was George, recognized him as soon as the blond walked through the door. His faintly lined face lit up in a smile, "Why, it's the young Lord Dragon!" Draco nearly winced at the nickname he was called, having forgotten how much he disliked it and he could have sworn Harry snorted out a quick laugh behind him, "How are you? You've been gone a while; everyone's been wondering about you," George liked to chatter, he recalled in that moment, smiling at the older man as the three other patrons in the café watched on in naked curiosity. He wondered what they thought of him and Harry.

"I am quite well, thank you George," Draco said, unclasping his cloak from around his throat and swinging it from his shoulders. It was much warmer in here than outside and the contrast was making his cold skin tingle as it heated, "It has indeed been a while," though he had always had one of the more cultured accents at school, thanks to his rigid, pureblood upbringing, he always made sure it was at its most polished when he was among the Muggles. It gave their assumption that he was just an eccentric noble with financial trouble more credit. Though in the winter he refused to give up the warmth of his cloaks, he otherwise made sure he acted as unsuspicious as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry smirking as he watched on, clearly amused by the blond's act and dark hair falling about his face as he pulled off his hat.

"This is my friend, Harry," he said when George's eyes flickered to the dark haired man still standing near the door, "He has been staying with me for a while and I thought I would show him around town," he made it sound like he was showing Harry about London and not some little dinky town far out in the country. Draco thought he preferred this teeny little town to share with Harry rather than London and he wondered when this too had changed. George moved to shake the dark haired man's hand but Harry shied away, pretending to be busy pulling off his gloves. But he smiled disarmingly and the blond rather suspected the older man didn't mind all that much. It was interesting that his companion wouldn't take George's hand, a clearly harmless gesture, but he had no problem allowing Draco to touch him.

He knew it shouldn't have pleased him but it did all the same.

They were shown to a small table near one of the immaculate windows, their cloaks taken with a look of wonder to be hung on the rack near the door. The smell of coffee and something sweet filled the air and the blond felt suddenly at ease. His father would have died a thousand deaths to know his son could feel at home among Muggles but then again, his father was the one who died. They ordered their lunch and a pot of tea to share and George disappeared with a twinkling smile to fetch it for them.

As Draco looked across the table at Harry and was caught up in the violent green gaze, he felt a smile of his own tugging at the corners of his lips. His heart raced when it was returned. In that moment of time, that was all he needed: Harry sitting across from him and smiling that smile, full of warmth and quiet gratitude.

"Who would have thought?" the dark haired man said softly, leaning one elbow on the table, "Draco Malfoy, Healer extraordinaire and Friend of Muggles," he made it sound like those titles were part of his name. Once Draco would have been furious but now all he could do was toss his head back and laugh. It was so ridiculous when said like that and while Harry was exaggerating, it was nearly the truth. But this was how life had turned out and he didn't regret it.

"Shut it, you," he said good-naturedly and earned himself another smile. This one was warmer than the last and he almost felt the heat from where he sat across the small café table. The green eyes had a look in them he didn't recognize, confusing him and making his breath catch. They trapped him, pulled him in, made him feel like he was about to melt and his poor, desperate heart rattled, shaken, in his chest. There were words stuck in his throat, something threatening to spill out, something he had been holding onto since he was eleven. It struggled at the back of his throat, scorching him until he nearly opened his mouth, nearly let it spill like broken shards of glass across the table surface.

Then George placed the tray for their tea in front of them and the moment was broken.

Yet even as he poured them both the tea into their plain white cups and fixed them how they both liked it, he could feel the fine trembles of shock coursing through him. What had he been thinking, almost blurting out how he felt? Just because he got caught up in that compelling gaze didn't mean he could completely lose his senses. Even more frightening was that the more time he spent in Harry's company it got harder and harder to keep his own secret.

Worst of all, sometimes he was almost able to convince himself he might feel better once he did.

Yet, as he took a long, fortifying sip from his cup and lifted his eyes to peer once more across the table, he knew that if he told Harry how much he loved him, he would lose the other man forever.

To Be Continued...