Disclaimer: Need I really say anything?

Author's Note: Here's me trying to make up for my absence with two chapters instead of one. Both shortish but I like them and yeah. Lemme know whatcha think :)

Chapter 11: Feelings

Malfoy wasn't in the bed when Harry woke up, and he was glad. He didn't know if he'd be able to face him just yet. He got ready in record time, and then rushed down the hall, passing the kitchen and heading right into the sitting room, where Remus was laying on the newly expanded couch.

He was deathly pale, and his wounds were still bleeding slightly through the bandages. Harry cleaned his hands, and began tending to the wounds and applying fresh, clean bandages. When he was done, he sat beside him, holding a cool hand in his own, and praying to the Muggle God that he'd never believed in that he would wake up soon, and be okay.

He didn't hear Snape come in. He was too busy muttering comforting words below his breath, and trying not to give in to the urge to break things. Anger was the one constant emotion in his life, and the one he turned to the easiest.

"Potter, you should really have some breakfast."

Harry turned to the black eyed professor. "I'm not hungry, sir."

Snape sighed loudly and disappeared down the hallway. A few minutes later, a plate of steaming food was pushed onto Harry's lap, and Snape was kneeling beside him, at Remus's head, tipping a potion down his throat.

Harry ate the food quickly, watching Snape's every move. Years of distrust were hard to let go of, and it was a simple habit to keep an eye on someone one didn't trust.

Snape obviously realized he was being watched, and cocked an eyebrow at Harry. "If I had wanted to harm him, Potter, I could have done something to his Wolfsbane any time over the last three years. You don't need to be in here, watching my every move."

"Sorry," he muttered, and got up. "I'll be in my room."

"Potter."

He half turned, imitating Snape's expression to the best of his abilities.

"Thank you for cleaning his wounds. He will be fine, Potter, rest assured that I will not let him die. The potions I am giving him should wake him within the next 24 hours, and I will alert you the moment that happens."

He sighed, feeling bad and not really knowing why. "Thank you, Professor, I appreciate it."

"Oh, and Potter, next weekend, your little friends will be coming here to celebrate your birthday. I'm allowing this only if you make sure that they do not stick their noses into places where they don't belong, and if you keep them from harming Draco."

Shit. Ron and Malfoy in the same place? This probably wouldn't end very well.

"Yes, sir."

Harry turned and walked away quickly, before Snape could say anything else.

He lingered in his doorway for a minute or two, but it seemed too quiet and lonely. For Merlin's sake, he was used to spending summers locked in a room, but now, he couldn't even stomach the idea of his own company for a few hours?

He headed down the hall instead, and knocked on Dr-Malfoy's door. Malfoy opened it, and smirked at him.

"Missed me, Potter?"

Harry glared at him, and pushed past him into the room. "Git," he mumbled, and flopped onto his bed, face in the pillows.

The bed dipped as the blond laid down beside him. His hand slid along Harry's back, rubbing softly, and he sighed contentedly. It didn't even matter right now that it was Malfoy, he needed reassurances that he wasn't alone, and that life wasn't hopeless.

Harry rolled over, and stared at Malfoy. His grey eyes met Harry's green ones with a soft gaze, and Harry reached out and smoothed down a errant strand of blond hair.

"When did you get so attractive?" he mumbled, and then flushed as he realized what he said.

Dra-Malfoy just smiled and ran a finger down Harry's cheek. "Third year, I think."

"Mmmm." Harry moved closer to him, wrapping his legs around his waist. "It's kind of too bad no one can know about this. It'd be hilarious seeing the reactions when people found out that we spent the summer with each other."

"They wouldn't believe it for a second. Unless we went back covered in bruises and scars. Maybe then, they'd believe it."

It didn't even seem wrong, laying here like this, wrapped around his enemy of the last five years. All their petty fights seemed so meaningless and childish now.

"Oh, hey, Malfoy?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"Not to, um, ruin, whatever this is, but Ron and Hermione are going to be here next weekend for my birthday."

He stiffened and pulled away from Harry a little bit. "Fantastic," he muttered. "Just what I need. A weekend of having to deal with the Weasel's pathetic attempts to hex me and having to watch out for Granger's iron fist."

Harry smothered a laugh as he remembered Hermione punching Malfoy in third year. No one would have ever guessed that she had had it in her.

"It's not funny, Potter," he mumbled, glowering darkly.

"I won't let them bother you, okay? Snape would kill me if they did, anyway."

"I think it's cute how you're so scared of my godfather, Potter," the smug blond smirked, and ran a finger down Harry's chest lightly. "Yet, you're in here, in a very compromising position with his beloved godson. Don't you think he'd tear you to pieces if he thought you were trying to seduce me?"

"Probably," Harry agreed, and made a move to get up. Not because he was scared of Snape, but because this was becoming more than he was ready to handle. But Malfoy stopped him, wrapping his slim fingers around his wrist.

"Don't go," he said in mock sadness. "I won't let him hurt you - after all, I swore to protect you, didn't I?"

For some reason, the reminder of the vow bothered Harry a lot, and he pulled away anyway, hovering in the doorway.

"I need to polish my broom," he said, and then flushed when Malfoy started laughing. Out of all the things he could have used as an excuse, and he had to pick that one? Grey eyes were watery with mirth, and he was once again struck with how attractive the blond was when he was flushed and laughing. He could just imagine him flushed for another reason -

"Fine, Potter, go ahead. If you need any help, you know where to find me."

Harry glared at him and walked out the the door - right into a wall.

Draco sighed as Potter walked out of the room. He couldn't believe he'd let things get even more complicated. A liaison with the Chosen One was the last thing he needed, yet, it seemed that he was more than willing to let it happen.

It was simple, really. Potter was the first one to show him any positive attention in a long time, and at sixteen, hormones were first in line to take control of his life. It also helped that he was the right gender - Pansy threw herself at him on occasion, but they both knew neither of them were really interested. Nor were his parents interested in marrying him off to a Parkinson - they didn't enjoy their company, and their position in the world was adequate at best.

No, Draco knew he was interested in males from about the age of ten, just before going to Hogwarts. But he'd pushed it to the back of his mind - He was a Malfoy, he would marry, and produce an heir, and then if he wanted to have male lovers, it would be at his discretion and no one would be the wiser. As long as he was loyal to his family, and loyal to their causes, no one would question his activities. That was just the way it worked in the high-ranking pureblood families.

But Potter and his damn green eyes complicated things. His innocence, too. Draco was still a virgin, but more by choice than by lack of interest. He figured if he had to have sex with a girl, it might as well be the one he was going to marry. And Merlin forbid trying to have a secret affair with anyone at Hogwarts' - he'd be outed in an instant, and a total disgrace to his family.

But Potter ... Potter had an almost otherworldly kind of innocence - for someone who's been touched by death several times already, someone who's been kept in the dark of life changing secrets about him, someone who's been abused and tortured, lied to and called a liar, he had an almost childlike innocence and still harboured hope hidden somewhere deep inside him.

He didn't like to let people get too close to him because he was afraid they were going to die and leave him alone. Draco seen the fear in his eyes last night when the werewolf had shown up, mangled and broken. If he hadn't been there, Draco was sure he would have bottled up his emotions and put on a brave face in front of Snape.

But he'd let his walls down for just an instant, and it was enough to let him through. Draco didn't know why he wanted to get through - it wasn't like he could use any information he might tell him against him, not with the vow.

Then again, maybe that was it. Neither of them would speak of anything that happened this summer - Draco couldn't, and Ha-Potter wouldn't, mostly because of Severus, but also because who would believe him? For the first time in his life, Draco had the chance to completely be himself, not be the person his father wanted to be.

And if it meant being friends with Potter, so be it. After this summer, everything would go back to normal. They'd go back to Hogwarts, go back to being enemies, his father would probably be out of prison, Draco would eventually join his father out of loyalty, Potter would continue to fight against Voldemort until he defeated him, and life would go on.

It was probably just sexual frustration, anyway, Draco decided.

His hands had been sliding down his body on their own, sneaky things, and he decided that maybe he would take a page out of Potter's book, and polish his 'broom', too.