A/N Thanks to reviewers:

Fufu.a.k.a.speechless: Oh good, hehe, thanks for reassuring me there!!! I got rather scared!!! Glad you like it though:)

DesperateMeasures: Hehe, oh I'm glad you like it!! I love that you gave me a nice long review as well – I don't know why, I just love long reviews! – so thanks for that!! Hope you carry on reviewing!

How's Harry?

Harry's eyes were closed; there was silence in the room, and it was pitch black, but he couldn't sleep. The occasional rumble of his stomach would disturb the mind numbing silence, and wake him up even more. But considering he hadn't eaten properly for three days, that was understandable.

He sighed and tossed and turned in his bed, but it seemed that every position was uncomfortable. He opened his eyes. There was the slightest trickle of light coming through the crack in the curtains. The sun must have been rising, and he hadn't had a wink of sleep that night, or the night before.

Harry rubbed his hand agitatedly, wishing the tingle would go away, but the thought wouldn't leave him. Malfoy would not leave his head to dream about other things.

He let out a loud growl as he realised that he was thinking of Malfoy again. For the third night in a row, he couldn't think of anything else, and it was driving him insane.

The day Ron and Hermione stayed for lunch was the easiest, as they were there to concentrate on. But since they had gone… Harry wished for some form of distraction, but he got nothing. Not a word from the Order, Ginny, Lupin, Ron or Hermione. Did no one care that he was stuck here alone?

Harry's stomach rumbled again, and for the first time in three days, he decided he needed to eat. He climbed out of bed, left his room and snuck down the corridor as silently as he could, as not to wake Malfoy up. He'd hate to bump into him in the middle of the night.

As Harry got to the bottom of the stairs, he realised he hadn't put his glasses on, but the light was on in the kitchen, so he told himself he could just ask Hetty to make him a sandwich or something, but made a mental note not to tell Hermione that he was making a house elf work in the middle of the night.

When he walked into the room, the refrigerator door was open, blocking Harry's view to Hetty behind it. However, when the door closed, Harry got a rather large shock.

Malfoy almost screamed like a girl at the sight of Harry in the doorway, but Harry didn't laugh, he merely turned away to go back to bed.

"No! Wait," Malfoy said, "I'll… I'll go, you get whatever it was you wanted…"

Harry turned back to look at him, and the sudden realisation that he was half naked – again – hit him like a lightening bolt. And then he saw Malfoy's naked torso also.

Harry gulped quietly, and answered, "It's ok, it's your house…"

He walked back into the room, heading towards the fridge, at least to get some milk. He opened the bottle and started to drink from it, not caring that Malfoy may shout at him. However, he did quite the opposite, and some sort of smile appeared on his face, although Harry couldn't tell for certain what the expression was, as everything was a bit blurry.

"What?" Harry asked moodily. "What are you staring at?"

"Your body, Potter," Malfoy said, and by the tone of his voice, Harry could tell he was smirking. "That neck is so delicious… I've never seen it tipped back and strained like that before…"

Malfoy took a step towards him, to which Harry took one back. "Piss off, Malfoy."

Malfoy ignored this comment, "You've got thinner in the past three days. I've missed you by the way."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked tensely.

"You've been in that room ever since Weasley and Granger left, Potter, I haven't seen you since that day," Malfoy answered.

"Yeah… It's been great, hasn't it?" Harry replied, with a wave of his hand.

"It's been unbearable for me not to look at that body since that morning," Malfoy said.

Harry looked at him through the corner of his eye, not that he could really see any clear features. He disregarded the comment.

"And now, you come down here and play with my mind… It's rude, Potter, so rude…"

Harry carried on rummaging around in the fridge for something edible at this time in the night, or morning, whichever it was… That's when he realised how strange this whole situation was.

"What are you doing down…" Harry stopped in mid-sentence as he turned around to find Malfoy basically hugging him. His grey eyes looked up into Harry's green ones, and for a moment, Harry almost forgot how wrong the position was, with Malfoy's warm breath on his neck…

"Get away!" Harry yelled, pushing him back. "What do you think you're doing?"

Malfoy smirked again. "You don't realise how gorgeous you are, do you Potter? I guess the Weasel girl doesn't appreciate you enough."

Harry looked around wildly, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like Malfoy's breath was still heating up his neck. He shut the fridge slowly behind him, trying hard to keep his breathing steady. Why on earth was he feeling like this? It was ridiculous, and sick as well!

Again, Harry hadn't noticed Malfoy come two steps closer to him, and place his hand on Harry's arm.

"You're warm, Potter, is everything ok?" Malfoy asked sarcastically.

"Don't touch me!" Harry yelled.

"Shh, calm down, Potter, everything's ok."

"Don't tell me to shush, Malfoy! There's no one in this house to wake up anyway!" Harry shouted, regretting it after he had said it, for Malfoy's eyebrow raised.

"I'm glad you noticed," He said, "You can always be as loud as you want…"

Malfoy put particular care in spacing out the last five words of his sentence, which made Harry writhe. Harry's heart pace was a lot faster now, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face as he realised that Malfoy was still holding him.

"Get off!" He shouted, shrugging Malfoy's hand off his arm. "And leave me alone!"

Harry strode towards the door, knowing Malfoy was just willing him to look back, but he didn't, he kept moving quickly until he reached his bedroom. As he flopped onto his bed, he realised that he was shaking slightly, and sweat was dripping form his head. He lay there for a good ten minutes, with his eyes wide open. He heard Malfoy make his way back to his room, and heard his door click shut. Harry relaxed.

Slowly, he swung his legs fully onto the bed and under the duvet. It was a lot lighter in his room now, but he still couldn't make out objects at the far end of the room. He reached for his glasses and put them on, then leant over the edge of his bed to rummage in his trunk. He found it quickly, and pulled it out to look at.

Ginny smiled up at him, waving her hand frantically in a surge of excitement. Harry smiled weakly. And then, totally unexpectedly, a tear trickled down his right cheek, and he fell asleep, with the picture in his hand, his stomach still rumbling effortlessly.

Draco woke up three hours later, and the first thing he did was feel around 'down there'. He wasn't hard anymore, that was a good thing. Not that it mattered, however; it wasn't him that was in denial about what was clearly happening. He lay in bed for a few more minutes and wondered to himself whether Harry had gone back to his room last night with an arousal. He smirked as he realised that he probably had done, and just not realised it.

Draco stretched as he got lazily out of bed. The little amount of sleep he had gotten last night didn't bode well for the day he had planned for himself. But he was going to have to get over that, as he had important errands to run.

Soon, Draco was downstairs, eating his breakfast, and he actually felt rather nervous. It wasn't natural for Malfoy's to be nervous about things such as these, but then again, Harry Potter could make anyone nervous.

If Harry came down the stairs this morning, even with the excuse of being hungry, it meant that he wanted more of what happened last night, even if he didn't realise it. Of course, Draco wouldn't leap on him as soon as he walked into the room, because he knew that, sexy as Harry was, he didn't have a clue about things like this. He'd tell Draco that he was hungry, and intended to get some food, but he wouldn't realise that deep down, he was telling himself to come down because he wanted to see Draco.

Harry had probably written a lengthy letter to Weaselette last night/this morning, about how much he loved her and missed her and 'wanted her so badly', but again, Draco knew that deep down, Harry only did it to reassure himself of those facts, not Weasley.

Just as Draco finished his breakfast, and was beginning to loose hope on his theory that he was so sure of, he heard footsteps in the hall, and they weren't Hetty's footsteps, either.

He smirked as the door opened and there stood Harry Potter, sex god (or so Draco hoped) of the universe, the Boy Who was Sexy, the Chosen Hot One.

Of course, Harry was fully dressed this morning, which was a shame, but Draco knew that was a security thing; plus, he hadn't been down without a top on before in the morning, so why should he start now? Draco let that one slide.

He wanted to let Harry say the first word, so kept silent as he sat down opposite him, and he picked up some toast from a plate.

Finally, after Harry had had a few bites of his newly buttered toast, he looked at Draco.

It was obvious that he wasn't going to say the first word, so Draco tried hard not to roll his eyes as he said, "Good morning. I'm glad to see you've got your appetite back."

"I'd never lost it…" Harry murmured.

Draco smirked. "Just didn't want to see me?" He said sadly, "I'm hurt, Potter."

Harry looked up at him again, with an evil look in his eye. Draco shuddered. "Are you going somewhere today?" Harry asked him, changing the subject.

"How did you guess?" Draco asked in return.

"You're dressed smarter than usual."

"I always dress smarter than you, Potter, if you hadn't noticed," Draco replied cheekily.

"I didn't say you're dressed smarter than me!" He raised his voice, "I said you're dressed smarter than usual."

"Yes, yes, I heard you correctly the first time," Draco said tetchily. Potter was starting to get on his nerves, but that was one of the things that he… loved, about him. "And I am going somewhere, now that you mention it."

"Where?"

"Hogwarts."

"What? Why?" Potter questioned quickly.

"Because, I need to see Professor McGonagall. And no, you can't come – again."

"Why?! And why are you seeing her again? What are you seeing her for?" Harry asked agitatedly.

"You just asked the same question in three different contexts, did you realise that, Potter?" Draco jibed, continuing to say, "And I can't give you the answer to it."

"Not even why I can't come?" Potter moaned.

"Well, that one's obvious."

Potter sat back in a rage for a few minutes, and Draco couldn't help but stare at how beautiful his eyes were when he was in a mood. His whole face, in fact. He smirked again.

"It's amazing how you can just put things behind you, Potter," He said.

Harry looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, our meeting this morning wasn't exactly what you'd call 'innocent', was it?" Draco said.

Harry seemed to cringe back. "It was on my part."

"Well, whatever," Draco waved the comment aside, "What I'm saying is, you were obviously very embarrassed, and now, you seem fine."

"You had no right to do what you did!" Harry snarled.

Draco just couldn't stop himself from smirking now, "You mean put a hand on your arm? Walk a little closer to you? And anyway, if you hadn't come down, if you hadn't moved here, then none of it would have happened. It's your fault really."

"Shut up!" Potter yelled, finally; Draco loved it when Potter was angry. "It's not my fault you can't control your hormones! Just go to Hogwarts and get fucked by someone! That will sort you out!"

Draco smiled and rolled his eyes as he stood up. "Ok, I'll do as you say. I'll say hello to your Weaselette for you, shall I?"

He went to walk out of the room, expecting Harry to shout out at him, but nothing happened. He was surprised that he could now openly insult Potter's 'girlfriend', and not get punched. But perhaps that was a good thing. He would have to wait and see.

Draco walked through the corridors of Hogwarts. Being a Saturday, there were students milling all over the place, but none in classrooms. When he reached the headmistresses office, he muttered the word 'headteacher', and the old stone gargoyle leapt aside for him to step on the stone stairs that revolved around.

He knocked on the door to the office and heard McGonagall say the word 'enter', so he did so.

The office hadn't changed since Draco visited last time. All the silver instruments that had once belonged to Albus Dumbledore sat in the correct places, and Professor McGonagall sat in the large chair behind the desk, waiting for him to sit opposite her.

"Mr Malfoy, I'm glad you could make it at such short notice," McGonagall started after Draco had sat down. "I just wanted to see you a bit earlier this term, since Potter's fall off his broom."

Draco nodded.

"How is he baring up then?" She asked.

"He's fine," Draco answered. "A bit thinner than usual, but then again, Professor Lupin told me he was thinner before he started to live at mine than he was just before the fall, so I suppose if you were to see him, he'd be about the same."

"Well, what about his personality, what's happened with your friendship?" McGonagall asked.

Draco swallowed. A lie or the truth? Easy decision!

"What friendship?" He said, "Just because we live together doesn't mean we're friends."

"Oh, Draco!" McGonagall exclaimed.

"But I suppose we're not at each other throats all the time anymore," Draco added. I wish something of mine was at his throat though… He thought to himself.

"Oh, well that's ok isn't it! So, do you speak often? More often than last time I saw you? Has he told you anything about the Order's work, or about his past? Anything like that?"

Draco shook his head truthfully. "No, we… don't really talk about his past. I suppose it's a disturbing subject for him."

"Well yes, Draco, but that's the reason he should talk about it. We put him in your house, under your care. We knew that you would listen to him. And you never know, if you get him to open up to you, you may become friends." McGonagall smiled.

Three difficult hours later, Draco walked back down the now empty corridors of the castle. These meetings about Harry were getting tougher, and it was only his second one. He dreaded to think what would happen if Harry knew that Draco was coming to see McGonagall to talk about his welfare. He'd go mad at him. 'I don't need caring for, or looking after', he'd shout. Draco rolled his eyes. It was strange how well he knew Harry, even though they hardly ever spoke.

A voice stirred Draco from his thoughts as he walked along the seventh floor corridor.

"Oh Dean!" The voice laughed. Draco cringed; he knew that voice.

He stopped dead as two figures basically fell around the corner to face him. Weaselette and Dean Thomas stood before him. The Weasel gasped and pushed Dean away.

"Malfoy!" She exclaimed.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Dean asked.

"I could ask the same of you," Draco replied calmly, looking Dean up and down. He then looked at Weasley. Her top buttons of her shirt were undone, and her tie loose. Draco smirked.

"I failed most of my NEWTs, so I'm re-taking seventh year," Dean answered.

"Shame," Malfoy replied, "I thought you'd fail all of them."

"At least I was allowed to take seventh year, Malfoy! I didn't try to kill anyone!" Dean tried to shout.

Draco merely rolled his eyes and looked at them both again. "Having a good Saturday then, Weasley?" He asked sarcastically.

"Dean and I were just going to see Professor McGonagall," She lied quickly.

Now she'd done it. Speaking quickly was the first way of telling that someone was lying. That was if you could tell they were making up their excuse. But Malfoy knew very well, from his sixth year, what room was on this floor. In fact, Malfoy had just walked right past the stone wall.

"I see," He said.

"How's… How's Harry?" She asked.

"Missing you," He loathed to answer her.

Before she could reply, Draco swept past them and carried on walking. Of course, the whole situation was brilliant for him, but he hated the fact that Harry would be hurt by it. On the other hand, who would be the only person in the house for Harry to cry on, when he was told? Draco smirked as he made his way back home, secretly thanking the stupid Weaselette as he went.

A/N Hehe, hope you liked this chapter. Hopefully it's getting a bit more angsty??? Hope so! Thanks for reading!