Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine and I have a little pout about that every day.

As always thanks the fabulous saras_girl who takes the time to correct all my wayward punctuation and is a wonderful muse.

Chapter Nine

Where We Belong

What am I to you? Tell me daring true

To me you are the sea, as vast as you can be

And deep the shade of blue

When you're feeling low, to whom else do you go?

See I cry if you hurt, I'd give you my last shirt

Because I love you so.

What am I to You – Norah Jones

Warmth and comfort surrounded Harry as he drifted from his slumber at daybreak the next morning. It took him a moment to locate what was different but when he felt deep, slow breaths whispering across the back of his neck, the previous evening began to dribble back to him and he burrowed deeper into the warmth of Draco's embrace.

A lot of the details of the previous night were still fuzzy in Harry's mind but the elements he did remember left him feeling horribly conflicted and unsure as to whether he should really be seeking comfort from Draco at all, whilst simultaneously convinced that he couldn't decline what was offered.

He remembered going to the club well enough, remembered how amazing Draco had looked in the form fitting black jeans and t-shirt, which allowed the Dark Mark to be displayed on his pale forearm. Harry had spent a good hour that afternoon reasoning with Draco that there really was no reason to hide it whilst they were in the Muggle world. They would simply see it as a rather cool tattoo.

He remembered the disgusting shot that Draco had acquired for him. It had been all the proof he'd needed that peppermint and coconut were two flavours that most definitely did not belong together. He had been forced to flood his mouth with the rather potent beer in order to cleanse the taste from his palate.

He remembered following Draco onto the dance floor. He had been in danger of jumping on Draco right then. He had looked fucking divine as he had given himself over to the music, moving with fluid grace. Harry had been happy when the pretty brunette had situated herself in front of him, as she offered him a distraction and helped him to keep his eyes off of Draco for more than a moment at a time.

He had been less impressed when the gothic-looking girl had begun to dance with Draco, if you could really call what she was doing dancing. She appeared to be involved in the advanced stages of foreplay; even more irritating was that Draco appeared to be enjoying it rather a lot. Harry had felt the hot spike of jealousy shoot through him. It really wasn't fair; he should be the one pressed against Draco, Draco's hands resting on his hips, guiding him as they moved together.

He had just been about to sulk off to the bar to get another drink, in the hope that Draco would follow, abandoning the harlot that was writhing against him, when a firm torso had pressed against his back, and a male hand snaked its way around his waist to rest gently on his abdomen. A rough voice in his ear informed him that the hand's owner had been watching him for a while, unable to keep his eyes off him and possibly the stupidest idea that Harry had ever had sprang into his head.

He would show Draco. If he could dance like that with a girl on the dance floor, then damn it, Harry was going to do so, too, and with this random stranger. That would shock him. Maybe then Draco would actually seize the next sexually tense moment that occurred between them and do something with it.

Actually putting this plan into action, however, was easier said than done. The controlling hand against his stomach and the stale breath against his neck made him feel undeniably tense, a feeling that was not helped by the unfamiliar hardness that was pressed against the small of his back. He ached for the familiar, casual touches of Draco and that minty fresh fragrance that seemed to hang around him permanently.

He became alarmed when the rough voice compelled him to relax and a hand pressed the beer bottle to his lips encouraging him, forcefully, to drink. This guy was much bigger than he was, much stronger; if it weren't for his wand, pressing reassuringly against his calf, he would have been out of there as quickly as possible. From there, things became a little hazy.

He remembered that his limbs had begun to feel heavy and the voice had suggested that Harry should get some air. Harry had thought it was a good idea, an opportunity to lose this guy, who was just all wrong, and find Draco again.

He remembered being shoved roughly against a wall as hands fumbled with his jeans, wet lips on his throat. He had tried to push him away, knowing deep down that something was very wrong but he'd found it rather difficult to lift his arms.

He remembered seeing Draco the moment he appeared at the end of the alley. Wand raised, eyes flashing with fury as the harsh street lights glinted off his pale blond hair, making him appear to Harry every bit the avenging angel.

Then he was at his side, Draco's scent and his warmth wrapping around Harry like a blanket between him and the world. Draco's arm was around Harry's waist, taking his weight, as his head drooped to rest on the warm shoulder. He was stroking Harry's back as he vomited. He was cradling Harry's head as he poured potion down his throat.

After the potion had kicked in and the world had swum back into clarity, Harry remembered clearly the slight awkwardness that had existed between them as he had prepared for bed. He had wanted to offer Draco reassurance, tell him that he appreciated his comforting, steady presence. So he did. He had confessed his feelings for Draco, or at least he thought he had. One thing was for certain however, he had kissed Draco and Draco had kissed him and, wrapped in the safety of Draco's arms, he found sleep surprisingly easily considering the unsettling events that had transpired.

It was Draco's presence that prevented Harry from even checking to see how the previous night rated against the list, which he despairingly referred to as 'The Top Five'. As distressing as it had been, there was no way it stacked up against the other 'worst nights' of Harry's life

The night that Sirius had been snatched away only hours after he had returned to Harry's life. The night Cedric died and Riddle returned. The night Sirius died and Voldemort had possessed him. The night Dumbledore had sacrificed his health for a pointless trinket, resulting in his death and a whole host of other things that were now infinitely more uncomfortable to think about because of the heated body pressed to his back. The night that he himself had died, only to return to a world that so many others had left. All these nights had one thing in common. Harry had been left to face the aftermath alone.

Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione had all tried to help in their own ways, but their words could never be anything more than cold comfort. They had expected, had needed Harry to remain strong, to be brave, to deal and move on. Draco had taken care of him, had been strong when he could not stand. Had offered the warmth and protection he had always craved.

But that had been last night and Draco had been drunk, though Harry thought that the incident had probably sobered him up somewhat. Still, the night was over and for once the dawn didn't bring with it the promise of a new chance, but the realisation that the chance he'd had may have been squandered.

It was rational to consider that in the light of day, Draco would realise just how much Harry had asked of him and run. Perhaps he would be frustrated at Harry's carelessness. Maybe he would be angry at Harry's attempts to manipulate him.

That was what he had done, after all. He had tried to make Draco jealous, and when the plan had backfired, leaving Harry in danger, he had played on Draco's sympathies. Realistically, he would be lucky if Draco could even stand to be around Harry in the aftermath of his stupidity.

As the guilt began to overwhelm him, Harry felt unable to continue drawing comfort from Draco's embrace and extracted himself, taking care not to wake his friend. As he reached the door, Harry looked back at Draco's sleeping form.

He was still wearing the t-shirt he'd worn to the club last night, blond hair fanned across the navy blue pillow; he looked quite angelic with a warm flush to his cheeks and his full pink lips slightly parted as he breathed softly. As Harry watched, Draco reached into the space that Harry had just vacated and, finding it empty, wrapped his arms around Harry's pillow, pressing his face against it. Harry smiled slightly and slid from the room. He needed to think; he needed to run.

By the time Harry had returned from his run, snuck a quick shower in the main bathroom so as not to disturb Draco and set the coffee to percolate, he somehow felt worse about his impending altercation with Draco. There was no way this was going to end well. The fact that he had tried to trick Draco into caring about him weighed heavily on his mind and he knew that this would be a very hard thing to forgive.

He was furious at himself; he had managed to secure the one thing he wanted a way that would ensure he couldn't keep it. This realisation swirled round and round in Harry's head, bringing him to the brink of tears as he sat at the table and sipped at coffee he could barely taste.

So engrossed was he in feeling sorry for himself that he didn't hear Draco enter the kitchen; he wasn't even aware of his presence until Draco's cool hand slid across Harry's shoulders, causing him to jump slightly and look round. Harry caught a glimpse of dark grey eyes before Draco's lips were pressed warmly, reassuringly against his own.

'Good morning,' Draco drawled lazily, a smile of contentment on his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee and slid into the chair across from Harry.

'Morning,' Harry responded slightly nervously, still unsure of how this would pan out. Draco appeared to be fine about everything but maybe he just hadn't thought it through yet. This train of thought shattered as Draco slid his foot against the back of Harry's leg under the table. Harry gasped slightly.

Draco frowned and, lowering his coffee cup to the table, pulled his foot away.

'I'm sorry, I didn't think,' he began in a rush. 'I'm sure this is the last thing you want after yesterday,' Draco apologised, a dejected look on his face.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that Draco was under the impression Harry was rejecting him and he rushed to correct the misconception.

Rising from his chair he traversed the table to crouch next to Draco, taking his hand.

'No, Draco, it's not that at all it's just…' He struggled to identify just what it was he was trying to say. 'Aren't you mad at me?'

'Why would I be mad at you?' Draco asked, a look of astonishment on his face.

'I tried to manipulate you, I put us both in danger,' Harry said reluctantly, loathe to put the thought into Draco's head

'Stupid Gryffindor.' Draco grinned with a shake of his head and he leant forward to capture Harry's mouth once more. Draco's lips were warm and tasted of coffee and the honey that he used to sweeten all his drinks. Without releasing Harry's mouth, Draco placed his hands on his waist encouraging him up out of his crouch and onto his lap. Harry stumbled for a moment as he struggled to get one leg on the other side of the chair, allowing him to straddle Draco's thighs.

Harry was rewarded for his efforts, however, with the first brush of Draco's clothed erection against his own. Harry gasped as sparks of pleasure swept through him. Draco took advantage of this, tongue darting forwards, seeking out Harry's and beginning a passionate dance. Harry felt like he was flying as he gripped the back of the chair for support and tangled his fingers in the ridiculously soft blond hair, returning Draco's kiss with enthusiasm.

His chest was screaming for air but Harry refused to listen as Draco's hands settled on his thighs and slid upwards to cup Harry's buttocks and pull him closer, increasing the pressure on Harry's erection and the contact with his own. Finally Draco pulled back slightly, resting their foreheads together and Harry gasped in air, panting with need.

'Sorry, didn't mean to get quite so carried away,' Draco muttered breathlessly. Harry frowned at the apology and, using the hand tangled in Draco's hair as leverage, he tilted his head back so that he could place small kisses across Draco's jaw.

'No apologies,' he muttered before running the tip of his tongue across the hollow at the bottom of Draco's throat and placing his lips around his Adam's apple, sucking lightly.

Draco moaned, a long needy sound that went straight to Harry's cock. He gripped Harry's hips hard and thrust up against him, grinding their erections together through their clothes. To Harry, nothing had ever felt so good and he wriggled, pressing himself back against Draco, needing the contact more than anything else at that moment.

Seemingly spurred on by Harry's response, Draco began to thrust repeatedly against him and Harry sought out the warmth of Draco's mouth as he arched his spine to press his own cock against Draco's just a little more. The kiss was haphazard, just occasional swipes of tongues and brushes of lips and, as heat began to pool in Harry's groin, it became more of a shared breath than a kiss.

Then Draco was stiffening, arching out of the chair beneath him, moaning into his mouth and pulling down on Harry's hips, pressing their groins impossibly close and Harry's breath faltered as he felt his own release wash over him.

Aftershocks brought with them a familiar drowsy calm and Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Draco's shoulders, burrowing his face into the side of his neck and inhaling the scent of coffee and mint and sex, which made Harry's chest want to burst with contentment.

After a couple of minutes, Draco's voice began to swim into Harry's somewhat fuzzy brain.

'I think we need to get up, Harry,' Draco said and Harry was pleased to hear that Draco sounded just as dazed as Harry felt.

'Hmmm?' Harry questioned. He'd heard the words and knew that something was required of him but it wasn't quite coming together.

'We need to get up,' Draco insisted, a little more aware and rubbing Harry's thigh briskly. 'You are dead weight all of a sudden and I can't feel my feet,' he explained. 'Now up,' and he gave Harry a light smack on the arse.

Harry struggled to his feet, wondering absently when it was that his bones had been replaced with marshmallow. He took a couple of paces backwards to allow Draco space to get up and became aware of the rapidly cooling stickiness that had settled in his jeans.

'I think I need to change,' he muttered distractedly, drawing a snort of laughter from Draco. Harry glanced up to see an indulgent smile spreading across Draco's face.

'I don't know; one orgasm and the Saviour completely forgets he's a wizard,' Draco mused, aiming a Cleaning Charm at him and Harry felt somewhat foolish.

'Come on, I think you need to sit down before you fall down,' Draco suggested and took his hand, tugging him towards the family room.

Harry slumped heavily onto the couch and looped his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him down, too. It was clumsily done, however, and Draco more fell into Harry's lap.

'Ooof, you could have just asked, Harry,' Draco complained without any real bite as he slid between Harry's thighs and leaned back to rest his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry leant forward pressing his face into the super soft fabric of Draco's shirt.

'Couldn't,' Harry argued ineffectually, muttering into the fabric, and smiling as Draco chuckled softly.

The silence that followed was comfortable and Harry found himself drifting on the edge of consciousness. He was still awake; he was aware of Draco's weight and warmth against him, could feel the soft little puffs of breath against the arm which he had wrapped around Draco's chest, holding him. Still, despite this awareness, Harry was not convinced he would be able to ever get his body to move from this comfortable position.

'I know you said no apologies,' Draco said quietly, his voice sounding low and contented and warm in Harry's ears.

'Mmmm?' Harry asked, pressing just slightly closer, tightening his arms around Draco in a small gesture of reassurance that he really didn't have anything to apologise for.

'But I really didn't mean to get that carried away,' he admitted and Harry grinned, smiling into the soft fabric at the suggestion that he had caused Draco to lose the grip on his tightly-held self-control.

'I'm glad we did,' Harry said slowly, as he forced himself to concentrate hard to form those few simple words; his ability to think slowly began to trickle back to him.

'I've wanted to kiss you for weeks,' Harry admitted, aware that the confession would leave him open and vulnerable but knowing somewhere irrefutable that it was safe to be so.

Draco twisted against him, turning so he could face Harry. Harry met Draco's gaze, his breath catching at the look of intent on his face. Long delicate fingers came up to brush along Harry's jaw and stroke across his bottom lip.

'Well then, I guess we have a lot of time to make up,' Draco muttered, leaning forwards until they were impossibly close. Harry could see the tiny flecks of blue in the grey eyes that reminded him of the sea before a storm and the thin charcoal band that edged the bright silver, containing it and giving Draco a look of intensity that made Harry want to shiver.

Draco's breath whispered over Harry's lips for long moments, just fractionally out of reach. Harry longed for the distance to be closed but he waited, breath hitching slightly in his chest, for Draco to close the final few millimetres.

At the first brush of the unfathomably soft lips, Harry felt himself shatter into a thousand pieces; then, at the first swipe of the sure, purposeful tongue Harry melted and reformed, like that robot in the movie he had once seen Dudley watching.

The world narrowed down to the soft hair under his hand, the long fingers brushing his jaw, the scent of mint and taste of coffee, as tongues fought in a lazy battle for domination, neither really caring who won, until Harry was no longer aware of time passing, of where he stopped and where Draco began.

A tapping at the window threatened to break into the cocoon and Harry frowned slightly, refusing to relinquish the kiss, but knowing that the moment would soon be over and desperate to grasp just a couple more seconds of it. The tapping came again, louder this time, and now Draco became aware of it, the lips faltered slightly against his own but did not stop.

At the third interruption, Draco pulled back, eyes closed, hair dishevelled and lips swollen and Harry pressed down the urge to leap forward and pin him to the couch.

'I don't think they are going to get the hint,' Draco said breathily and slowly began to disentangle himself from Harry. Harry felt the loss keenly but reasoned that the sooner he dealt with the intrusion, the sooner he could work on getting back to the truly important things.

Rising slightly shakily, Harry headed to the family room window and opened it, allowing two almost identical tawny owls to enter the room. Each carried a thick bundle of yellowish parchment. Harry felt his stomach freefall. He had known this moment was coming ever since Hermione had mentioned it on the terrace that day but he had tried hard to push it from his mind, hoping that if he didn't think about it then it might never happen. He scolded himself internally at this; when had that ever worked for him in the past?

He heard the scuffle of leather as Draco rose from the couch and came to stand behind him and Harry felt a little pull of happiness as he realised that he would be able to locate Draco in a pitch black room. This realisation was quickly overwhelmed with panic again when his gaze settled back on the two Hogwarts owls. Draco pressed himself to Harry's back, resting his chin on his shoulder.

'What is it?' he asked, pressing a warm kiss to Harry's neck.

'Hogwarts owls,' Harry said, hoping that saying it out loud would reduce the cold fear that was gripping his gut. He groped backwards for Draco's hand and continued to stare at the feathered messengers.

Finally one of the owls hooted impatiently, and summoning his courage, Harry stepped forward to retrieve his Hogwarts letter; seeing that Draco still hadn't moved, he relieved the second bird, too. He decided against passing Draco his envelope as the birds took off out of the still open window and simply placed the letter on the table. When Draco was ready, he would take it, but Harry would not push him.

Looking at his own letter, he ran a finger over the fine green script on the front of the envelope, feeling the slightly rough texture of the parchment; he recalled all the summers that this letter had carried with it promises of fresh starts and new beginnings. Trying to summon some of that previous enthusiasm, he slid his finger under the heavy wax seal and tugged out the parchment within.

It was as Hermione had already told him. The whole of last year was being stricken from the record due to the tiny number of students who had actually returned that year as well as what McGonagall had chosen to call, 'sub-standard teaching practices.' It also informed that because of 'recent events', the Hogwarts term of 1998 would be beginning on the fifth of October to allow for restorations to be completed. The Hogwarts Express would leave at eleven, on the morning of the fourth.

There were three other sheets of paper included in the envelope. The first was the list of the NEWTS that he had been entered for. Next came the obligatory equipment and book list which Harry didn't even bother to glance at, and finally, a letter from Professor McGonagall herself.

Harry extracted this sheet of parchment and slid the rest on to the table next to Draco's letter. Draco stepped forward to pick them up, clearly more comfortable reading Harry's letter than approaching the one addressed to him. Harry slid his arm around Draco's waist in a silent show of support and couldn't help the little smile that formed when Draco covered the hand resting on his abdomen with his own free hand.

Harry turned his attention to the additional letter. It was short and it was cryptic. It spoke of matters they needed to discuss and a favour she needed to ask and suggested that she come by today at midday— in a little less than an hour. Harry was left wondering how she had been certain that he would have received his letter in time. Then he scolded himself, this was magic, not science. There wasn't always a how; sometimes things just were.

Harry's mind raced, thinking of all the things that the professor might wish to discus with him.

'McGonagall is coming here,' Harry muttered to Draco, who was now staring blankly at the parchment in his hand, a grim set to his mouth. 'She wants to ask me a favour,' Harry added, when Draco glanced sideways at him.

'When?' Draco asked, somehow paling even further.

'Forty-five minutes,' he said with a glance at his watch.

Draco dropped Harry's hand to rub nervously at his face.

'The hospital doesn't have visiting time until two,' Draco mused. 'I suppose I could go out and get a coffee or something?' he suggested.

'You don't have to go anywhere, Draco.' Harry frowned, confused. 'I mean, if you really don't want to be here, you don't have to be, but I'd like it if you stayed. I'm a little nervous myself, to tell you the truth; I don't know what she wants but I'm certain if she needs to say it in person it can't be good,' he pointed out.

'But she'll think… she'll realise…' Draco looked slightly alarmed at Harry's suggestion.

'I think she probably already knows you're staying here, Draco,' Harry pointed out, reluctantly indicating the unopened letter.

'And you're okay with that?' Draco asked and Harry noticed with relief that the tone was one of nervous optimism and not horror as he had feared it might be.

'Of course I am; why would I not be?' Harry asked.

Draco's response was mumbled and, for the most part, incomprehensible.

'… Death Eater…' was all that Harry managed to catch and he tugged Draco into a hug.

'I am not now nor will I ever be ashamed to be seen with you,' Harry asserted, deciding to cut right to the heart of this problem before it had the opportunity to fester. He fixed Draco with a gaze that willed him to believe and watched as the silver eyes searched his own for some sign that it was an exaggeration or a lie. Harry knew the moment Draco had been satisfied as a broad smile broke out on his face.

'In that case, I shall remain here,' Draco said, affecting a tone that suggested he was doing Harry a tremendous favour, but Harry saw the warm gratitude in his eyes.

'Tea?' Draco asked and Harry nodded, delighted for the distraction.

Harry suddenly felt concerned that this was all becoming a little intense rather quickly, but then he supposed his relationship with Draco had always been intense in one way or another.

* * *

When Professor McGonagall stepped out of the fireplace, Harry felt immediately grateful that Draco had agreed to stay. Something about the set of the woman's jaw convinced him that he was going to need all the moral support he could get.

'I'm glad to see you looking well, Mr Potter,' she greeted.

'You too, Professor,' Harry said politely and she smiled wryly, catching the lie. Harry blushed slightly. 'Draco is just putting the kettle on again, can we offer you some tea?'

She was surprised. She had covered it quickly, but not quickly enough to escape notice and Harry wondered what it was about Draco making tea that was surprising. He had to work hard to suppress a snort at his own absurdity. What was it about Draco's presence that wasn't surprising?

'Thank you, Mr Potter, tea would be delightful,' she agreed and waited for him to lead the way, despite knowing where she was going.

Stepping into the kitchen, Harry immediately sought out Draco's eyes, seeking for the support he knew he was going to need and was delighted when he found it.

'Mr Malfoy,' came Professor McGonagall's greeting from behind him and Harry watched as Draco's eyes slipped nervously to the professor.

'Professor,' Draco responded in clipped, tight tones that spoke volumes about his present discomfort. He passed Harry the tray with the cups and milk and sugar and allowed their fingers to brush lightly as he did, offering a small uncertain smile.

'Please take a seat, Professor,' Harry asked placing down the tray and slipping into his chair. When Draco bought the teapot across moments later, he eschewed his normal seat to slide into the one next to Harry, allowing their thighs to rest lightly against each other.

'I shall not beat about the bush, Harry,' the professor said suddenly, when she realised Draco would be staying for their conversation and Harry couldn't help but be thankful for her directness.

'There are many matters that need to be resolved before the school term begins again and two of these involve you. I shall deal with the most pressing first,' she continued, and Harry had the distinct feeling of being back in a class room.

'I have been trying, among other positions to fill the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and as you can imagine this has been a difficult search.'

Harry nodded; he knew the question was rhetorical but it was important to him to demonstrate that he was listening.

'Well, I have finally found someone willing to take the job, but he will only do so on one condition.'

Harry sucked in a preparatory breath; this was going to have something to do with his hero status, he knew it, the prickle of discomfort was already settling under his skin. Draco's hand alighted on his knee and immediately he felt its calming effect.

'He refuses to teach a Defence Against the Dark Arts class with you in it,' Professor McGonagall explained, and Harry released his breath in a short puff of disbelief.

'He won't teach me?' Harry said slowly, trying to grasp the concept, and a little scathing noise came from beside him.

'He won't teach Harry because he's afraid he'll show him up,' Draco scoffed and Harry looked to McGonagall to see if she confirmed or denied the accusation.

'He refuses to teach you because he is concerned that the other students will look to you for the answers rather than him; he feels that it will be impossible to maintain control over the class with you there,' she explained.

Harry could tell that Draco was entirely unconvinced.

'Obviously you are going to need your Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT if you are to become an Auror, however, but I feel, and the examiners agree with me, that you are already more than capable of passing your NEWT, so if it is agreeable to you I should like you to sit it in one month's time, before the term starts.'

Harry was speechless; he wasn't sure whether to be amused, irritated or flattered.

'Obviously, under normal circumstances I would never allow a teacher to dictate who they would or would not teach, but right now it is either that or the subject won't be taught next term,' she explained apologetically.

'Of course, Professor, I understand how difficult it must have been,' he said slightly dully. 'I don't want to cause any trouble,' he agreed and was quickly settling into irritation. No matter what happened, people were never going to let him just blend in.

'Thank you, Harry,' McGonagall said genuinely and Harry felt mildly mollified. It wasn't her fault this guy was insecure, after all.

'You said there were two things,' Harry prompted; he wanted to get this over with now, wanted to wrap his arms around Draco and lose himself in his kisses and forget all about Hogwarts for another two months.

'I did, I also wanted to ask you a favour,' she said and Harry raised his eyebrows a little. She didn't think that agreeing to take his exam a year early to avoid offending a teacher's delicate sensibility was a favour. Interesting.

'I'm listening,' Harry responded, the anxiety building again.

'I want you to consider taking the position of Head Boy.'

Harry opened his mouth to protest but McGonagall jumped in again.

'Please, before you say no, hear my reasons for asking this of you? Next year is going to be difficult. I have reset the years and invited everyone back because education must continue but I am very concerned about re-opening the school. There will be animosity between the students. I'm sure you are aware of what I am speaking,' she said, levelling a gaze at Draco.

'You're talking about the Slytherins?' Harry deduced. 'You think the students are going to seek revenge against Slytherin house?'

'Not necessarily exclusively, but principally, yes,' she agreed.

'You have the ability to lead the students to encourage them to make amends, and you also have the inclination. Since the moment you stood beside me in the Great Hall I knew that you would be able to do this,' she enthused.

Harry felt a weariness settle over him; it was familiar, he remembered this feeling well. The weariness of having to live up to other people's expectations, of having responsibility he had never sought. Draco's hand squeezed his knee slightly and Harry sought it out with his own, turning it over and lacing their fingers together.

'I was really just hoping for a quiet year, Professor,' he protested, and then for good measure: 'Also, I think you're overplaying my influence, I don't think people will get on simply because I tell them to.'

At his side, Draco gave an almost imperceptible smile and shake of his head and it was on the tip of Harry's tongue to ask him, 'What?'

'I'm not expecting you to solve everything, Harry,' she said in a tone that approached warm and reassuring. 'I just think it would be nice if our Head Boy were to lead by example in these situations and, no matter what you say, the students will look to you for leadership.'

Harry sighed and scrubbed at his face with his free hand. He could feel the beginning of a headache starting to throb in his temples. He really didn't want to do this.

'I'm sorry, Professor, I just don't think I can, besides isn't Head Boy supposed to be a prefect?' he said, grasping at straws, in the hope she would drop it.

'Not always,' she dismissed, 'In fact your father was Head Boy without being a prefect first.'

Harry frowned, was she insinuating what he thought she was? That had sounded distinctly like a 'Do it to make your father proud' moment. The frown turned into a scowl.

'You don't need to give me an answer now,' McGonagall rushed, clearly sensing that she was losing him. 'Just think about it for a while, please, Harry?' she asked. 'I don't need to fill this position until September.'

She rose from her chair, smoothing her robes, clearly determined to leave before Harry could refuse again.

'I shall leave you and Mr Malfoy to your afternoon,' she said with a small smile and Harry reluctantly disentangled his hand from Draco's, manners dictating that he needed to see the professor out.

As the rush of flames carried McGonagall away, Harry slumped against the wall until he was sitting on the sun-warmed floor of the hallway, his now throbbing head resting in his hands. He did not want to be Head Boy.

The soft swoosh of socks on wood came closer and Draco's long elegant fingers closed around Harry's wrists. With out a word, he tugged Harry to his feet and led him up to the second floor. On gaining entrance to Harry's room, Draco slid on to the bed, long legs stretched out in front of him and back against the head board. He tugged Harry's wrist once more and gently nudged and encouraged him until he was laid on his back, head resting in Draco's lap.

Cool fingers sought out Harry's temples and began to rub soothing little circles there. Harry moaned softly and closed his eyes, allowing Draco to relieve his headache slightly. They sat in silence, simply enjoying each other's company until Harry began to feel himself relax again.

'I just want to have a normal school year, you know?' he began and Draco ceased his massage to begin carding his fingers through Harry's messy black hair.

'I wanted one year where I could just worry about teenage things, homework and what stupid thing Ron had done and how I was going to sneak into your dorm,' he said, adding the last with a cheeky smile.

Draco's fingers ceased their movement and Harry opened his eyes. A small frown had settled on Draco's brow and there was a troubled look in the grey eyes.

'I don't think I'm going to go back, Harry.' Draco's voice was almost a whisper.

'What? Why not?' Harry asked, and he could hear the note of panic in his voice.

'You heard what McGonagall said,' he explained softly. 'There's going to be a lot of animosity this year, the rest of the school against the Slytherins. Now imagine the animosity they will direct towards me. I actually fought on Voldemort's side; I bear the mark of one of his servants. There is no way they will accept my presence there,' he explained sadly.

'And if that weren't enough it will be even worse with Slytherin house. As much as the rest of the school would like to believe that Slytherin was exclusively a proving ground for Voldemort's supporters, the truth is there were maybe twenty of us in the entire house and everyone else was painted with the same brush. We would have been in continuous danger from our own house members but we grouped together and became fearsome, untouchable.' The look in Draco's eye became far away and thoughtful and absently he resumed his hair stroking.

'Were I to return, I would have a target on my back twenty-four seven. I wouldn't even be safe in my own dorm. Blamed by the non-Voldemort supporters for their ostracism, reviled by those who did support him for turning traitor.'

'But your exams, what were you going to do after school?' Harry protested and then, realising the foolishness of this question, added, 'Before Riddle returned.'

An impotent rage was beginning to curl in his gut. He had fought in order to prevent persecution but further persecution had been born from the fight and now his own side were going to deny him the only comfort he really wanted as a reward.

'I had planned on an illustrious career as a dilettante,' Draco quipped with a wry smile. 'Somehow I don't think that a lack of exams will be a disadvantage in that case.'

'Is that what you still want?' Harry asked carefully.

'No,' he said resignedly. 'Ideally, I'd like to do something that makes a difference, I want to give something back, maybe, but dilettante isn't a terrible job, all things considered.'

They fell into silence again, Harry's mind whirring as he attempted to come up with a solution that would allow Draco to return to school. His thoughts kept coming back to the same place however and it was with a touch of trepidation that he approached his fate.

'The Head Boy gets a private room; you could stay with me so you wouldn't have to sleep in the dorms. Also, McGonagall is right, as much as I wish they'd all just ignore me, if I tell the other students that you are off limits then a lot of them will just listen and I'll have the power to come down on those who need a little more persuading.'

Draco's were wide with surprise, his mouth slightly open and his hand frozen in place atop Harry's head.

'But… but you don't want to be Head Boy,' Draco stuttered slightly. 'You'd really make that sacrifice for me?'

Harry grinned slightly.

'The real sacrifice would be leaving you behind so that I could get a little peace and quiet. This is no sacrifice at all,' Harry said, reaching up to hook a hand round the back of Draco's neck and weaving his fingers into the silky strands. 'So will you come back to Hogwarts with me? I don't think I want to do it alone.'

'I really have no way to refuse.' Draco shrugged slightly, a broad grin spreading across his face. Harry returned it and tugged Draco down into a kiss.