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"Good morning." Narcissa stated as Pansy entered the room.

He nodded her head, "Morning."

It wasn't a moment longer before Draco entered; to Harry's great surprise, Draco's home-fashion was not princely and pricey, but rather gloomy…and tight. He tried not to stare for too long at his black jeans that hugged him by his waist, but fell into something more akin to bell-bottoms. He wore a bulky black bracelet that looked more like a belt for his frail wrist; his black shirt held fast to his torso, flattering his chest and back. His elegant neck was accessorized with a dark chain that fell into his shirt; Harry didn't linger on that, though and continued to gaze at Draco's sharp, handsome face. His tornado eyes seemed even more grey than before that morning; Harry blamed it on his sorrows. The blonde didn't so much as look to his mother; neither said a word to each other as the boy passed through. Harry's heart suddenly thumped when he realized Draco's intense eyes were concentrated completely on her.

"I'm going for a walk. Care to join me, Pan?"

Harry nodded the girl's head again, quietly following him out of the room to glance back at the woman sipping her tea. He looked back to Draco; he stared dead-ahead, not so much as perturbed by the silent encounter. He didn't make eye-contact with Pansy when he asked her softly,

"You prefer to walk or fly?"

"Wouldn't flying…seem a bit…celebratory at a time like this?"

The blonde's brows furrowed, still looking straight forward as he responded indifferently, "I suppose you're right."

As they approached the door, Gerald reappeared and draped their coats over them, dressing them in scarves and allowing them to exit. Once they greeted the frosty air, Harry regretted wearing a skirt. He followed Draco nonetheless, he knew Pansy would. Draco led the girl far away, never speaking a word and Harry dare not break the silence he knew Draco so adored. In the quiet and snow, looking at the tall and lanky prince all Harry could see was him writhing in pain and screaming a kind of shriek he never would have thought humanly possible has he not seen and heard it for himself. He couldn't stop wondering if Draco suffered the Cruciatus Curse as regularly as his mother cried.

"…sometimes it's better off not having parents rather than…than having strangers."

That's why Draco didn't say hello.

He didn't know her.

It had been just shy of an hour when Draco and Pansy arrived at a charcoal-frosted bench that sat in the middle of nowhere; surrounded by a desert of white and nothing and no one else. Draco sat down, as did Harry, right next to the blonde. Harry brought the girl's knees in, stretching the material as far over her legs as it would go until Draco stole his attention again,

"I don't hate this."

"What?" Harry inquired.

It looked like Draco was conflicted; perhaps having trouble with trying to find the right words,

"I…I don't hate it when it's quiet like this. I don't hate you. I don't ever want to hate you. I never will."

"Draco," Harry started gently, "…what are you talking about?"

Draco looked to the girl, his cheeks flustering, an uneasy expression that screamed awkward adolescence; as in, an anxious boy trying to express something profound to a teenage girl. It made Harry want to giggle; he knew Draco would only show this cute and insecure side to Pansy and it honored Harry to be allowed to experience being in her lucky shoes. Draco looked away again,

"Something is different. It's really different, but I can't put my finger on it. I told you something had changed and it was good…but it reminds me…of something…I can't seem to remember…and now…I don't know if I like it…I know that I do, but I think I don't…do you…do you understand that? Because…I don't think I do."

The girl chuckled lightly, "You're funny, sometimes, Draco. I do understand."

The blonde finally returned his gaze to her, "You really understand?"

Harry brushed away an ebony curl before replying, "I don't know, but I understand that you don't hate me."

Malfoy nodded and painted on that practiced smile before telling her, "That's good, then…that's okay. That's about all I understand about what I just said too…"

The girl smiled again, but before the comfortable silence could return to them, Harry stated,

"I have questions, Draco…"

"You know you can ask me anything, Pan."

"I…about what happened in the Hospital Wing…can we talk about it?"

His calm demeanor suddenly changed and Harry could feel the aura of the sleeping white tiger again. He still didn't know Draco that well; he still acknowledged that Draco was an unopened book with pages all torn and strewn around with words and pictures missing, making him a labyrinth. He didn't know if Draco created his heart and mind's maze on his own, or if he was forced to compose all of the secret passage-ways and traps. Because Draco Malfoy was such a mystery, Harry had no way of knowing how he would react to Pansy prying, but if he wouldn't let Pansy in, he knew no one else had a chance; so he took his chances.

"What about it?"

The girl's eyes stayed frozen on Draco's concrete gaze, "Uhm…why did you say…that-" He caught himself before saying 'I', then continued, "…uhm…Potter was too good for the Killing Curse…? Don't you…uhm…hate him?"

Draco looked completely away, muttering, "He killed Voldemort. He saved millions of people; wizards, squibs and muggles. Not only is he a savior who deserves our respect, Pan, but he's a powerful wizard with class; he doesn't wave his wand around just because he can. That's why I said he's too good for it. Had I been in any condition to speak to anyone, meaning, if I hadn't been heavily medicated, I would have told him off and not so much as looked at him again. You should forget everything that happened in the Hospital Wing. I was barely conscious at all."

The girl's cheeks filled with flattered red; he never would have thought Draco Malfoy could think so highly of him. Harry knew that those three last statements should have meant the end of the conversation, but Harry guiltily pressed further,

"Draco…he killed your father."

The blonde sighed out a cloud of fog, his fair face sinking into sad brows, lifeless eyes and a morbid smile of self-hatred as he mumbled nearly inaudibly, "No, he didn't."

There was a fast moment that Harry questioned if Draco wasn't willing to accept the fact that his father was dead. He wondered if perhaps Draco's heroic image of Harry would be shattered if he forced himself to accept his father's death, thus he pushed it aside and denied it. Suddenly Harry realized Draco's eyes on her; his mask was gentle again, looking at the girl as if she were an adorable animal about to be adopted. He blinked slowly, taking off his coat and throwing it over the girl's legs. When their eyes met again he told her,

"I don't want you to catch a cold. You know you won't catch my eye this way."

"W-what?" Harry stammered.

The blonde tilted his head, lifting a brow, "You don't have to dress like this to catch my eye."

Pansy's face went red, "I-I wasn't trying t-to…t-to…"

Draco faked another smile, "Are you about to tell me you were dressing like this in the winter-time without the intent of grabbing my attention?"

Harry's mind went blank.

Draco had a point.

Had Harry actually been looking for Draco to notice? For him to stare and flatter?

"Yes, it's a nice change. Speaking of; you look very pretty this morning."

Harry remembered how the blood had rushed to her face; could Harry's right mind be under attack by estrogen Pansy slipped him in his polyjuice shots? Or was he taking on a girl's instincts? Or their nature? Was he trying too hard to be like a girl that he's completely in character? Or…something a bit more disturbing…had he entirely intended to wind in Draco's romantic tactics?

"I…I'm sorry, Draco. I suppose…just…"

"What you asked me on the train?"

"What?"

Draco repeated, "What you asked me on the train…why…why I didn't love you…" There was a short pause before he continued, "I'm sorry I ran from that question. I'm sorry that I…I'm sorry that I apologized instead of…explained myself, Pan…I know it must hurt…"

"Are you going to answer me?"

The blonde broke eye-contact as he muttered, "You're acting different, Pan."

"What?"

"Are you hard of hearing, Pan? You've been saying that word a lot."

"Don't help me because I'm pitiful."

"You're not-"

"Help me because you care…"

"What?"

"You must be hard of hearing. You say that word a lot."

"…sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"That one too."

"Pan…it's not just your air, it's…it's how you word stuff and how you talk to me, I mean, we walked here in complete silence…" Draco looked to her again, "You always talk, Pan. You're always talking and telling me things, but you didn't say a single thing. Is it my father? Are you quiet because my father is dead, Pan or are you quiet because you're different? Are you quiet because the war is over or are you different?"

Harry glanced away, trying to gather the courage not to immediately confess it wasn't really Pansy, until he replied, "I don't understand, Draco, you said me being here was enough, that you didn't mind the quiet."

"Do you love anyone?"

"No."

"But…your family…your friends…"

"They don't need me. I don't need them."

"You don't need anyone, do you? You're right well off on your own, then. All alone."

"Doesn't matter if I'm alone or not."

"What does matter, Malfoy?"

"Silence. As long as it's silent…as long as it's silent."

"No!" Draco barked, "No, I don't mind it when it's quiet, I just…you just…"

"I just what? What does me talking do?"

"It makes it…it…you…I talk to you…" Draco looked off again, holding his temples, "I talk to you. I don't talk to anyone. I don't let anyone talk to me. But I let you talk. You talk and talk and talk and I don't care…I don't care when you talk…you're the only other one who understands me."

"What do you mean!" Harry burst, "Understand you!? How could I understand you when you hide in your room and lead me on and stay silent all the time! You don't love me, but you don't object to marrying me, you know the answers but never raise your hand in class, you have emotions but you never show me a single one! The only goddamn time I've seen emotion in you was in the Hospital Wing! Otherwise you're just dark and mean and cold and unavailable and grey and empty!"

There was a harsh silence that fell between the two; Draco's raincloud eyes were wide in horror, his light skin paler than usual. Looking into Draco's eyes in that moment, there was an emotion. It was something Harry recognized, the emotion was synonymous to the Mirror of Erised, to Narcissa's crow's feet, to Lucius's last will and testament and to Draco's very being. Pain.

It was etched across his perfect face, his mouth sewn shut and jaw tight…

"Draco," Her voice came out pitifully, "Draco, I didn't me—"

"Yes you did."

They gazed at each other, Harry unable to form a single word. Draco abruptly stood, breaking the stare;

"You're right."

"What?" Harry plead.

The blonde didn't look back at her, "Go home. Tell Gerald I won't be home for dinner."

"Where are y-"

"Go."

Holding his coat tightly to her chest, Harry mumbled, "Don't run away."

"I'm not a stupid pre-teen who can't handle their responsibilities. I wouldn't run away."

"I meant from me."

There was a heavy silence; their days of comfort all gone in a blink of an eye, an utterance of a word. As Harry turned, he told himself of how the only emotions he had been able to read in Draco were indifference and pain. That empty look in his eyes was constant, but when he looked at Harry Potter, there was a tangible hatred, an anger. When he looked at Pansy Parkinson, there was only pain. Or emptiness.

"You will follow me. And it's best you learn to love the Cruciatus curse. Because in your case, without all that pain in there, there's nothing."