Author's Note: For whomever it may apply to, Happy Halloween!

Chapter 9

Harry sat back in his chair irritably, rubbing his eyes and looking for a distraction—any distraction—to keep him from his homework. He had been doing this in several variations for the past twenty minutes. It was terribly boring to sit at a desk in the library all day, trying to catch up on the homework he'd neglected over the past two weeks. Honestly, why hadn't he just done it when it had been assigned? This was the eternal question. He still had two essays for Transfiguration and Potions to complete, as well as notes to copy from Charms, but all he could do was worry about Rebecca. Malfoy had taken the doll back to the dorm about an hour ago, and Harry didn't like the thought of the other boy being alone with her. He shook his head at the idea of something bad happening. Malfoy wasn't such a terrible git anymore, but he definitely still had his moments—like what would forever be known as the Sock Incident. Harry was never going to let that go.

An hour later, he was tapping his quill upon his parchment and idly staring at the ceiling, still having nothing done. For fuck's sake, how did Hermione do this for fun? This was absolute torture... he couldn't do it anymore. Harry was about to pick up and leave when Blaise pranced over to his desk. "Hey, Harry," Blaise greeted, plopping himself down across from him and smiling brilliantly. "Finished yet? Draco's getting all huffy because the doll likes you better."

Harry chuckled. "Of course she does, I'm much nicer to her than he is," he remarked. "All Malfoy's done is yell at her and stuff various clothing items in her mouth. Rebecca must have built up an intolerance to him."

Blaise laughed. "At least we know she's perceptive. So are you ready?"

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his tangled mane in frustration. "Er, sorry, I'm not. Tell Malfoy that it might be a while. I'm absolutely stuck on this shit."

Blaise made a face and peered over at Harry's parchment. "Potions, huh?" he asked sympathetically. "Draco's brilliant at Potions. I'll go get him if you'd like, you'd finish faster with his help."

Harry gave Blaise a look. "I don't think that he'd help me."

Blaise laughed. "He would if it could help him get rid of Rebecca faster. Honestly, Harry, you've got a lot to learn about Slytherin priorities. Listen, how about I go get him and I'll take care of Rebecca? I'm sure that will ease both of you."

Harry nodded. When it came to taking care of children, Blaise seemed to be a natural expert... at least, he was infinitely more capable than Malfoy was. Wasn't that the only thing that mattered, anyway? It would be much better if Blaise had Rebecca than if Malfoy did. "Fine, that sounds good. Thanks Blaise," Harry said, shooting a genuine smile at his friend.

Blaise returned it. "You do have a lovely smile," he muttered, just loud enough for Harry to hear. Then he wandered off before Harry got the chance to respond.

Harry sat back again. He had a nice smile? He tried smiling again, wondering if he could feel the niceness of it. Well, he couldn't, and now he just felt silly. Harry furrowed his brows at his parchment again, sighing. Why had he agreed to have Malfoy come and help him, of all people? They'd probably just get frustrated with each other and leave angry, and he didn't want any setbacks in their already timid relationship. Besides, they had their little questionnaire meeting tonight and he'd rather they were cordial at it... Harry really could have just gotten Hermione's help, even though he was loathe to listen to her lectures today. It would still be more effective than a Malfoy lecture, which would probably end in blood, or tears—or both.

After a few minutes of waiting, he glanced at the entrance, wondering if Malfoy would even show up. Harry found himself wishing that he wouldn't, just so that they could stay on good terms (if you could call it that) until their questioning. But as though he'd been summoned, Malfoy now appeared across from him at his desk, carrying a Potions text and wearing an irritated expression. Harry sighed. He could already tell that this was going to be painful.

"Potter, let's get this done so you can take care of the little monster," Malfoy snapped, plopping into a seat and opening up his textbook to the correct page.

Harry peered at him. "What did she do to you now?" he asked.

Malfoy glared at him. "She vomited on me—three times. And then Nott was laughing, so I had to hex him, and that made her cry. I tried to comfort her and she vomited again." He grimaced and rolled his eyes. "I swear, she despises me."

Harry tried not to laugh. He didn't want to set Malfoy off on him. "Come on... she doesn't despise you," he placated.

Malfoy gave him a look. "Don't talk to me like I am a child, Potter. I will not hesitate to vomit on you."

Harry grimaced. "Could you not?"

Malfoy sighed and sat back in his seat, rubbing his temples. "Honestly, I didn't know that a baby could be such a pain in the arse," he confessed. "I never want to have children."

Harry shook his head. "Don't say that," he argued. "Of course babies are a handful, but that's because they need care and love. Once you've got your own baby in your arms, soft and warm and real... maybe you'll understand." Harry paused. "I know that I really want to. I couldn't ever give up a child, not for anything."

Harry suddenly felt a little wistful, thinking of his own neglected childhood. He couldn't remember the love he'd gotten from his own parents and he certainly hadn't gotten any from the Dursleys. Gods. Harry would never allow his own kid to feel the way that he had felt during the first eleven years of his life. He would never wish that kind of sadness on somebody else at all. He took a deep breath and tried not to look too dismal, but Malfoy was already watching him with a softer expression now. It made Harry wonder when it was that Malfoy had started to care whether or not Harry felt sad.

"You're right," the blond said quietly, before grabbing Harry's parchment and silently looking over the sparse amount of work that was done there. Shaking his head, he took out a quill and started crossing things out, underlining, and adding phrases. With a satisfied expression, he gave it back to Harry after a few minutes. "See what you did here? You were describing the essence of the root, when you were supposed to be describing its use value. Look." He pointed at the book with the quill. "There's your answer. Simple."

Harry watched Malfoy curiously as he continued to talk, astonished at how agreeable he was being. And after an hour or so, it had become record time. Harry didn't think they'd ever gone this long without some sort of snide comment or remark thrown around. Every so often he would smile appreciatively and thank Malfoy, writing down the paragraph he was supposed to with quiet obedience, and Malfoy would nod back. They worked like that for another hour, Malfoy pointing out helpful hints and Harry eagerly writing them down.

As he finished, Harry held up his parchment with a satisfied grin. This was definitely the best Potions essay he'd ever written, including the ones with Hermione's help. He'd never quite understood any of the Potions passages as well as he did now; something about the way that Malfoy explained it made it seem so much easier. The Slytherin had gotten straight to the point, not shying away from the little details and not going off on another tangent about something else. Simple, yet effective. Harry smiled at his essay again. Maybe he should consider doing this more often.

"Malfoy, I can't thank you enough," Harry remarked, as he felt the intense joy of finishing a particular difficult assignment rush through him. It was wonderful.

Malfoy managed a non-terrible smile at him. "It was really no problem, Potter. Honestly, you're not so bad at Potions, you just need to be pointed in the right direction." Seeming to realise that he'd actually paid Harry a compliment, Malfoy reddened. It wasn't a bad look on him.

"Really?" Harry grinned. "That's—that's really nice, Malfoy. Thank you."

They sat there for a few minutes in amicable silence. It was pleasant. Harry thought that he could do this all day.

"Well, we should get going," Malfoy declared. "Blaise is probably going bonkers now with Rebecca." The blond actually smirked at the thought. Harry nodded his head in agreement. Malfoy was probably right, no matter how excellent Blaise was with children, Rebecca could get a little crazy now and then. It was better to take care of her in shifts. They left the library together, walking in silence that was strangely still not awkward at all. Harry scuffled his feet against the floor and shot another appreciative look at Malfoy. Yes, this was definitely something that he wanted to do more often.

~x~

When Harry walked to the questioning classroom that night with Rebecca bundled up in his arms, he felt confident that today's session would be a tolerable one, if not even better. He'd been surprised that he'd actually had quite a nice time working with Malfoy in the library that afternoon and he hoped that tonight would be just as peaceful. Harry tickled the little doll absently, who made small noises of joy, and smiled. Yes, he and Malfoy were starting to get along quite well. Who would've guessed it? Perhaps this project was a blessing, after all. He opened the door and found Malfoy already there, arranging his items on one of the desks.

"Hey," Harry called out, placing his bag down on the seat next to Malfoy's and putting Rebecca down in between them. Malfoy glanced up at him.

"Hey, Potter. Are you ready?"

Harry grinned. "Let's do it."

They had already exchanged a few questions before Harry could even sit down properly in his seat—Malfoy was efficient (and annoying) like that. Harry sighed. He noticed the questionnaires had gotten longer and more complex with each session and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was a good thing that he had gotten that Potions essay done, or else he'd be up all night doing it. And that was something that he really did not want to start doing again.

"What is your biggest regret, and would you go back and change it if you could?" Malfoy asked now. He was looking at Harry expectantly, quill poised in his hand.

Harry thought for a moment. A million things were running through his head. The pang in his chest—the one that often came with thinking about his past—had gotten more painful lately. "Honestly, Malfoy, there are too many to count," he confessed softly, not looking up at Malfoy's face. "Do you know how many people I could've saved if I hadn't gone and done something stupid or rash? How many families could have remained together if not for me?" Harry stopped and blinked rapidly, feeling the stinging tears behind his eyes threatening to fall. "Sometimes, I just think... I'm not really a hero, you know?"

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy leaned forward and placed a tentative hand on Harry's arm. "Everyone makes mistakes, Potter. There's no reason to apologise for simply being human." He paused and let go. "And fuck the gods of irony for making me say it, but you really are a hero. Oddly enough, I kind of think that you're even more fucking heroic because you think that you aren't. Honestly."

Harry looked up at Malfoy with wonder. Everyone had experienced horrors from the war, it was true, but for some reason, nobody ever seemed to really understand it—the guilt, the pain, the waking-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-gasping feeling of inexorability. But Malfoy knew somehow, he knew everything and all of it, inside and out, even though he and Harry had been on different sides of the war—like two sides of the same coin. It was how Malfoy had explained Harry's Potions assignment; straightforward. Malfoy wasn't about to give Harry any bullshit about how perfect he had been, or how now that the war was over, they could all move on. Because they couldn't.

"I don't know what it is about you, Malfoy," Harry said slowly, still gazing at the other boy. "You're just... something. Really something."

Malfoy scoffed a bit. "You're calling me something? That's new."

Harry smiled a little. "It's a compliment."

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, and then he looked away and smiled as well. "I never talk about this stuff, Potter," he admitted softly. "With anyone."

"You know what? Me neither." Harry took a deep breath. "But I realise that sometimes we have to, or else we'll never get over it."

"We don't have to get over it," Malfoy retorted, his eyes flashing a bit now as he turned back to Harry. "We simply have to learn from it. But, I suppose, if there is anyone who has learned the most from this war, it would be you. I shouldn't even be talking." He laughed bitterly. "You had everything to lose."

Harry gazed at him. "So did you."

Malfoy looked away again.

Rebecca started crying then and Harry picked her up, cuddling and shushing her until she was quiet once more. He smiled tenderly at her, bringing her close. She was a perfect reminder of why he was still going... because when he really did have children, he would love them with all his heart. He would always show it; he would always be there for them. He knew how important that was. His children would not have to feel the pain that he had felt.

When Harry turned back to Malfoy, the boy was watching him again. "You know Potter, you're going to be a good father, I honestly mean that," Malfoy said. "You're going to raise some really amazing kids. They'll take after you." He hesitated and shook his head. "I can only hope that one day, I'll be able to do the same."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. So he wasn't the only one who was unsure about the future, then—it was so strange. Harry hadn't even had a clue that Malfoy had any doubts at all; he'd always figured that the Slytherin would take his rightful place as the Malfoy heir and live his life in luxury. He'd thought that Malfoy had it all planned already. It was just now that Harry was seeing that even the most composed of people didn't have everything figured out. The future was daunting for each and every one of them. He bit his lip, suddenly realising that he really didn't know Malfoy at all, despite their frequent contact over the years. He also realised that he wanted to know him.

"Malfoy..." Harry took a deep breath. "All we've ever done is fight. And for what? To be honest, I don't want to fight with you anymore. What do you say we try and... start over?"

He held out his hand.

"I'd really like for us to be friends."