"My eyes feel like they're bleeding," Harry complained pushing the chair on its hind legs to balance against the wall.

He and Draco were studying for their N.E.W.T.S., beginning to review the material from the beginning of the year. Malfoy was like a slave driver, not allowing Harry to give up after he came across something uninteresting or stupid, prompting him to keep going by a scathing remark on his intelligence. Frankly, however, he was at a point where the stupid git could say anything about him and he wouldn't care. They had been at it since early that Saturday morning, having begun the previous week. It was madness really; after all, it was only the last week in February. Harry found it a little premature to begin stressing out over end of the year exams. If it was up to him, he would wait until late in March and then he and Ron would start panicking and cramming. It had worked before, so he didn't see why he was being dragged along unwillingly on this stupid Slytherin craze.

Hermione had practically bounced off her seat when he had walked in to the Gryffindor common room late last night, exclaiming how Malfoy really couldn't be that bad. Harry wished he could be won over so easily; the truth remained that Malfoy was a cunning prat who could get anything out of him. He was on to him, and there was no way that he was going to be appeased. Besides, he was hungry. They had an early dinner because Draco insisted that he had to get back to a particular passage in the book he had been reading, and Harry hadn't wanted to stay in the kitchens alone. When they returned, he had been tempted to grab the large tome from Malfoy's grip and hit him on the head a couple million times. It was potions. The great git hadn't let him finished eating because of potions. It was so stupid. Really, what was he reading that was so interesting, how to pickle small pig fetuses in a jar? It made no sense.

Getting up from his belly on the couch, Draco stretched and arched his back, "I agree. I think if I read anything more my head will roll off my body in protest."

"Finally you see sense," Harry said with a smile catching sight of a small patch of skin that became exposed when Draco stretched and accidentally untucked his shirt from his trousers.

"What else would you expect with someone with aptitude like mine?" Draco asked with a cheeky grin.

"Hmm, look at that funny gerbil. I thought it said aptitude," Harry looked off into space and tapped his index finger to his lips.

"A gerbil? Honestly, Potter? You couldn't come up with something stronger that hinted at my masculine prowess?" Draco asked looking deeply offended.

Setting the chair down on its feet, Harry got up and stretched himself, "No. As a matter of fact, as you can see from my hand here, I do not tell lies."

Draco walked over to him and grabbed his hand gently trailing a finger over the small scar, "You still have that then?"

"It's not bad," Harry shrugged. "Most days I don't even know its there."

Draco frowned deeply and scrunched his eyebrows, "That doesn't matter. That bullfrog of a woman. She should be in Askaban for all she did here."

"A bit harsh, don't you think?"

"She maimed you and you think I'm being harsh?" the blond looked at him in surprise.

Harry looked at him for a second then gave a silly sort of smile, "No, you're just protective."

"Protective?" Draco looked affronted. "Of whom? You are nothing but an incovenient piece of lint on my clothes, as annoying as a loose string you can't quite manage to rip apart."

"It's alright, Malfoy," Harry teased. "I'm impossible not to like."

"Potter," Draco said looking deadpan. "You know how there's that saying that some people have a face only a mother can love? Well, yours tagged a note to you saying she would forgive you for being born if you never came back."

"I resent that, you know."

"Wow, there," Draco held up a hand as if to protect himself from Harry. "I think your stomach is ready for an attack. Where's my whip?"

"Oh, shut up. It's your bloody fault. I wasn't finished eating, but you just had to come back to figure out how to properly chop a squirrel's toe or something equally creepy," he said.

Draco walked towards his bed and picked up his robe, "I tell you what; I will go with you to get something to eat if we go out tonight."

"That's blackmail," Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Yes," Draco agreed.

Harry shrugged, "Works for me."

iIiIiI

Early on Monday morning, walking in between classes, Draco couldn't help but yawn. He had been able to convince Harry to go with him to the Quidditch Pitch a second time, only their third total, and he had kept them there until nearly four. As a result, they were both running on less than four hours of sleep. Potter had been cranky all morning, fighting sleep as the professors droned on about snooze worthy things. Draco had been forced to keep up a steady barrage of paper balls to throw at Potter's head in order to keep him awake. He had looked at Harry with innocent eyes when the other boy had accused him of having a nefarious plan all along to make his life miserable. True as that might have been, the previous night had been all about having fun. They had gone for another run, Potter doing his great imitation of an injured chicken again, and had gone to sit in the stands when they were finished. It had been a particularly beautiful night. The stars had been out and the moon had been an almost red color that stood out beautifully against the darkness of the sky.

Harry had told Malfoy at length about what he used to do when he was younger. On nights when the Dursleys went out to a party or somewhere with friends, he was usually left alone, outside. They locked the door, so he wasn't able to get into the house unless he climbed in one of the windows, which after a couple of spectacular attempts he had given up on. Instead, he would go to the nearby park and play until he got tired. Then, he would lie down on the big spinning wheel and keep it moving with his leg on the ground. He would stare up at the sky and imagine that there was something out there that would make up for everything that was going wrong. He would imagine that the moon was the mom and that the stars were all of her children, and one day he would go away and have a family just as big as she did. Eventually, he had stopped because Draco stared at him with an indescribable look in his eyes, as if there was something he wanted to get off his chest but wasn't quite able to. Alone on the couch later, Malfoy breathing deeply on his bed asleep, it occurred to Harry that it was sympathy. Draco felt badly for him.

It was a surprise, certainly, but a small one after all of this time. Lately when they had nothing to entertain them, they would sit and talk. They talked about stupid things, about funny stories when they were children. One had been particularly humorous where Harry had found that Draco had been bitten by mole rat when he was six after finding it in his family's grounds. It was funnier to think that to this day they made him uncomfortable. In turn, Harry had related why Aunt Marge really hated him so much. When he had been younger, one of her stupid dogs had eaten some of his food when he hadn't been aware. He had been so angry that he had ridden it, literally ridden the dog down the hall until it crashed into the door. Aunt Marge had been furious and had not forgiven him since. They would sit and laugh, and sometimes, when the necklace rested warmly against Harry's chest, Draco would tell him about things he used to do with his parents, his mother in particular, when he was smaller and always at home. He would get the softest look in his eyes, so vulnerable that Harry had to tell him how lucky he thought Draco was. He had never had a mom, but he figured that if she had lived, he would have wanted to have attempted putting make-up on her just like in one of Draco's stories. He imagined that would have been great.

"Oh, shut up, you git," Harry hit his arm. "It's your fault we're so tired."

Draco started laughing and held his hands up. He looked at Hermione and asked, "Granger, is it my fault Potter doesn't have a spine?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Harry's face, tired and with bag under his eyes, "No."

"Hey!"

"Shouldn't have gone out two nights in a row," Hermione shrugged a little miffed that they would be so risky.

Harry pointed at Draco, "It was his fault. I don't understand how you can be turning on me. You're my friend."

"But I'm the one with the brains," Malfoy said. "You really can't blame her."

"Evil little bastard," Harry said under his breath.

"Oh, stop," Draco put in. "All of your compliments are going to give me an ego."

"I don't think it's possible to give you one bigger than what you already have, jerk," Harry said.

"Well, there's yours. Then, I would really have no-"

He didn't get to finish what he was going to say, though. Suddenly, an invisible force gripped the front of his school robes and dragged him forward smashing him against the wall. He tried to escape, to get his hand into his robes in order to dig out his wand, but it was to no use. He didn't know what was happening, but whoever was responsible was not visible. His entire body was being thrown repeatedly against the wall. He braced his hands against it, trying to minimize the impact while Potter and Granger tried to get him down. He was elevated four feet off the ground, and his entire body was beginning to ache. Suddenly, his arms were torn from the wall and his face crashed against it. He had to blink the pain away trying to figure out how to get down despite the fact that he had to breathe through his mouth. His nose was bleeding and he could feel the cold fluid running down his chin to stain his shirt. Finally, after what felt a life time, Professor McGonagall rushed down the hall and cut the connection. His body crashed to the ground before anyone could catch him.

Harry ran to his side, crashing on his knees to rest Draco's head on them. The Slytherin's eyes were unfocused and bruises were already beginning to form on his right cheek. His nose looked bashed in, but Harry couldn't tell if it was broken through all of the blood. They had been running late to class and by now, everyone was back in the classrooms. Whoever was responsible was gone. Harry felt the necklace on his chest start to warm and looked down to it to see it glowing. There was a pull on his belly button then he and Draco vanished. They rematerialized in one of the hidden passages nearest to the infirmary. Harry got to his feet and levitated Draco after him, rushing to get him to Madame Pomfrey. When he got there, she was ready, already alarmed by her stone. She took Draco from him and set him on a bed, running her wand over him to diagnose the damage. At the doors, Professor McGonagall rushed through followed shortly by Professor Dumbledore and Hermione.

"Mr. Potter, what happened?" the Gryffindor Head of House asked looking over at Draco with worried eyes.

"I don't know, Professor," said Harry. "We were walking down the hall one moment, and he was levitated off the ground the next."

Hermione nodded next to him and continued, "He was thrown against the wall over and over again. It was almost as if something had him by the front of his robes."

"Was there anyone with you? There are usually at least three of you with Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said.

"Ron had to go to the bathroom and since we were so close to the classroom we told him to go ahead," said Harry, Professor Dumbledore walked to them coming from conversing shortly with Madame Pomprey. "Is he alright, Professor?"

The Headmaster nodded, "He will be alright. He is hurt, but Madame Pomfrey will be able to mend him."

"This was not aimed to kill, then?" demanded McGonagall.

"No," Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "I don't think so. I believe it was to intimidate him."

"They're trying to show him they are in control, aren't they, sir?" Hermione asked her face going pallid.

"That is precisely what they are doing," agreed Dumbledore.

"Hermione, did you see anyone?" asked Harry. "I didn't catch anybody with a wand drawn."

"No, neither did I. It was too sudden," she answered.

"There is nothing either of you could have done, and I'm afraid that we will all only be incoveniences to Madame Pomfrey while she works on him. I would suggest you both return to class," Professor Dumbledore said in a low voice.

Hermione nodded, but Harry shook his head, "No way."

"Harry," began Professor McGonagall.

"No. He needs someone to be here. Could you imagine if a Slytherin comes in here while he's unconscious? He will be ripe for the taking. With your permission, Headmaster, I would like to sit here with him," said Harry.

Dumbledore considered Harry for a moment then glanced in Draco's direction. Turning around, he nodded, "He needs someone to be here with him when he wakes up. I will come back later, when he is feeling better. We will leave you then."

Harry watched them walk away, smiling when Hermione looked back to give him a reassuring wave. He stayed to the side, giving Madame Pomfrey plenty of room to work. Inside his chest, his heart was beating a mile a minute. None of this made sense; they had just been laughing a couple of minutes ago, and Draco had been acting like a complete idiot like always. Now, he was on a hospital bed looking little and broken. As Harry sat down heavily on a nearby chair, he stared in disbelief. This couldn't happen again. Draco depended on him, and however it may have happened, he was worried for the Slytherin. In a lot of ways, Harry depended on him too. If not Draco, who would he get to insult? Who would be an annoying jerk until Harry gave in and allowed him to borrow his clothes? Who was he going to stay up late at night with talking about his childhood with? Who was going to be there to get him hot chocolate when he was sick?

iIiIiI

Hours later, Draco woke up feeling like his face had been slammed in concrete. Then, it all came to him. He supposed stone was close enough to concrete, much too close for his comfort. Turning his head to the side, he noted the emptiness of the room. The other hospital beds were deserted save one with a coughing Hufflepuff down the hall. Madame Pomfrey was tending to him, giving the lad a stern talking to about flying in this weather. It made Draco give a half smile. He missed flying.

Down the hall, the doors were pushed open by Harry's back. He was walking carefully, balancing the cup in his hand so that he wouldn't spill any liquid. Turning around, he saw Draco was awake and hurried over to his bed. Without thinking, he thrusted his hand forward, "I got you hot chocolate."

"With the little marshmallows?" Draco smiled.

"Yeah," Harry nodded sheepishly.

Draco put his hands on the mattress and tried to push himself up to a sitting position. Setting the cup down on the floor, Harry hurried over to him and carefully wrapped his arms around Draco's chest, pulling up most of his weight. He stepped back and handed over the chocolate, glancing carefully over Draco's naked, bandaged upper midsection. When he had been slammed against the wall, his stomach had been scratched, as had been the rest of the front part of his body, and his ribs had been bruised. There was nothing much that Madame Pomfrey could do for that, so the bandages had to stay in place for support in the meantime. Below them, Harry could see the fine definition lines of Draco's toned muscles. As Draco breathed, his stomach moved up and down, flexing and unflexing as he blew on the hot chocolate.

Harry looked up Draco's amused face and said, "You have bandages."

"Ever aware, aren't you?" Draco taunted. He put a hand on his ribs and massaged slightly, wincing, "They hurt."

"Do you remember what happened?" Harry asked.

The Slytherin nodded, "I'm hurt not stupid. It felt like some type of spell, kind of like Levicorpus."

Harry shook his head, "There was no way it was as simple as that. Levicorpus doesn't pack that much punch."

Madame Pomfrey interrupted them then, rushing over to check Draco over now that he was awake. Over her shoulder, Malfoy rolled his eyes at Harry, making him smile, and gave in to the older witch's administrations. He was given a pain dulling potion, and she wanted to keep him overnight to make sure that everything was alright. Another student in Ravenclaw robes came in complaining of a head ache and she walked off to attend to her.

"You feeling better?" Harry asked referring to the pain dulling potion.

"Not really; I can still feel an uncomfortable sort of soreness even through it, you know? It's annoying more than anything," Draco said handing over the empty cup.

Harry took it in his hand and fidgeted with it. He looked up at Malfoy and felt like a prat, concern and guilt making his eyes heavy, "Draco, I'm so sorry."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed on to Harry's limp fingers, giving them a squeeze, "It's not your fault. I'm alright."

Harry gave his hand another squeeze and nodded. He sat down on the bed next to Draco's and smirked, "It sure is a hell of a way to get out of classes."

"One of my better dubious plans, I must admit," Draco said but let out a painful breath of air when he shifted his weight too quickly.

"Does it feel like getting mauled by a duck, do you figure?"

"Worse than twice," Draco nodded gravely.

iIiIiI

"Potter, you know what I think?" Draco asked from his bed the following day.

"What would that be?" Harry asked from Draco's desk where he was completing an essay.

"Well, seeing my state, and all, I must admit that I am in a lot of pain. I think I need to do something that is going to make me feel better; wouldn't you agree?" he asked.

Harry looked over at him with narrowed eyes. He knew that tone of voice, the one that sounded completely innocent but that spelled nothing but trouble. That tone had gotten him out of two different pairs of jeans, a pair of sweatpants, and a midnight candy dinner. It spelled trouble alright, and he wasn't sure if he was up to it. They were back in Draco's room from the infirmary, only released a few hours earlier. Madame Pomfrey had been hesitant to let them go, but both they and Dumbledore agreed that being in the infirmary was simply too dangerous. It left Draco too open for anyone to come and attack. They had allowed Draco to get hurt once already, and no one wanted to see it happen again, especially so soon. In the end, the nurse had given in, making Harry in charge of taking care of her patient. They were giving potions and fresh new bandages that Draco would have to wear until it no longer hurt for him to move.

The trip back to the rooms had been a particularly interesting one. They had commenced by walking slowly side by side, until they had to take a rest a quarter of the way there when Draco started sweating under the stress. He was breathing heavily through the pain of pulling his ribs as they moved down the passageway. Professor Dumbledore had offered to walk with them, but Draco had waved off his offer, knowing that it was going to be embarrassing enough to have Harry there to watch him limp like an obese, invalid girl. His every limb felt heavy, and he wanted nothing more than to throw his shoe at Harry's concerned face. It was not helping the situation. After their fourth time stopping, however, Draco had given in and allowed some of his weight to drop on Potter as they made their way down the hall. Harry's left hand was securely wrapped around his waist, low enough not to hurt him, and his fingers left a comforting pressure against Draco's hip. His right hand was wrapped around Draco's arm, holding on tightly so that the Slytherin wouldn't slip from his grip.

They had finally made it, and Harry had put Draco in bed, where he had shortly fallen asleep until now. The way his eyes were lit up made Harry groan. Whatever Draco wanted, it was not going to be good for his health. Regardless, Harry nodded, agreeing with Draco's last statement, "Yeah, I agree you should do something to feel better, like rest. Go back to sleep."

"No, no," Draco waved off his suggestion as if he was slow. "I meant something for my emotional health. I'm traumatized, you know."

"I'm sure you are," Harry said with pursed lips.

"As such," Draco continued, "I feel that I have to reach past my horizons to an activity that brings intrinsic freedom."

"Mm hmm."

"Well, aren't you going to ask what that is?" Draco prompted.

"No, I'm fine," Harry said returning to his parchment.

Draco sat up with a hiss of discomfort and crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm an invalid, Potter. You're supposed to be taking care of me, so pay attention."

Harry sighed heavily and turned his attention to the blond, "Alright, what?"

"Flying."

"Pardon?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "I know you're not as stupid as you look. Nobody could be. I mean, like on a broom. You know? Flying."

Harry glared at him, "Doesn't know the meaning of the word fear, but then again, you don't know the meaning of most words. Malfoy, may I remind you that you just came from the hospital, because a group of very dangerous individuals want you dead?"

"Your point is?" Draco asked in bored voice.

"My point is that you're not the grape right now; you're the raisin-"

"A raisin, seriously?"

"And you can't precisely walk out of here and get on a broom. You will be a clear target, and that's only if you can make it out of here to begin with. You're hurt," Harry insisted.

"I didn't know you cared so much," Draco joked.

"Of course, I care," Harry responded seriously. "That's why you can forget it."

Draco frowned, "May I remind you I got you hot chocolate when you were sick?"

"I got you some too, so now we're even," said Harry.

Draco let out a breath and tried again in a more appeasing tone, "Harry, I would really appreciate it."

"Wow, do desist my dear heart. I think our ears deceive us," Harry placed a dramatic hand on his heart. Then, he looked at Draco and narrowed his eyes, "I'm not that daft. Using my first name doesn't change the fact that it's a stupid request."

"A stupid request for a stupid individual," Draco cut in scathingly, annoyed that his plan wasn't working.

"You can be a baby as much as you want," said Harry. "Nothing you say is going to change my mind."

iIiIiI

Two days later, Harry found himself cursing under his breath. Draco was high above him, flying on his Firebolt. Harry had refused to leave the ground, angry with himself for having even been talked into coming out to the Pitch and decided on keeping guard. He had allowed Draco to use his broom, because he knew nothing was going to keep his feet on land. The happy smile that had split his face had nearly been worth the entire ordeal, then he had limped coming out here, and the reality had nearly crushed Harry. They shouldn't be there. They should be inside waiting for Draco to recover safely behind the walls of his hidden rooms.

This was stupid; they were tempting fate, and Harry wasn't comfortable with it. Draco on the other hand looked happy as could be. He had explained to Harry that he knew where the danger was, and he was almost sure that it did not extend after hours into the Quidditch Pitch. It was too far away, and no one knew they were out here since they had used Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Regardless of what he had said, Harry wasn't convinced and he sure as hell was not going to make it easier on anyone to sneak up on them. He stayed vigilant, making sure that nothing escaped his notice. The grounds were quiet, however, and nearly all of the windows in the castle were dim. Its inhabitants were sane enough to be asleep by now, as they should be. Yet, here they were, putting their necks on the line for a little of Draco's enjoyment.

To be fair, Draco was having a great time. High above the ground, he felt like he was able to breathe for the first time in a very long while. He flew no higher than would make him visible, staying below the cover of the stands. It was phenomenal. Harry looked like a small dot below him, and Draco was forced to smile at the care he took at making sure they were safe. He really was a good guy despite all the remarks he made about the Slytherin's intelligence. Draco knew he would go through hell when he came down and that Potter was most likely going to ignore him for a while, but it was a price he was willing to pay. Not only was flying amazing, an angry Potter was one of the funniest things he had ever see. Harry would go quiet, and his lips would purse. His entire face would go serious, making his eyes more pronounced under his drawn eyebrows. The thing was, he could never keep it up. He was by nature easy going, and it was humorous to get to the point where Draco would attempt to make him laugh, nudging him on the stomach, only to have him try to suppress his amusement. As much as Harry wished otherwise, Draco always won.

Finally having had enough, Draco pulled down and landed softly on the ground near Harry, "Hey."

"Hi," Harry said looking away disinterested.

"Oh, come on, Potter. Don't be mad," Draco said smiling.

"It would help a lot if you wiped that stupid look off your face, thanks," Harry said referring amused way Draco's eyes lit up.

Draco put forward Harry's broom and nodded at it, "If you want you can go up in the air. I'll watch from down here."

"No, I'm fine," Harry responded crossing his arms.

"Go on, Harry," Draco nudged him. "I'll keep guard."

He turned and looked at Draco for a long moment, shaking his head. It made no sense; it was like the dumb Slytherin had some power over him or something. He said his name and suddenly Harry was doing whatever the prat wanted. Taking the Firebolt, Harry rolled his eyes and took off, hearing Draco's laughter from the air. Fact was, he had not flown just for fun in a long while. It felt good to race through the sky without having to worry about an entire game going on around him. It was peaceful, like nothing was wrong and nothing ever would be. Like no one could touch him.

Below him, Draco watched Harry fly with admiration. He had never seen anyone fly like that, like the air parted around him simply because he wished it so. It was kind of beautiful, really, the way Harry tore through the sky as if he was completely in his element. Even from down here, the muscles of his forearms could be seen through his sweater as he clutched the handle. His thighs wrapped around the broom strongly as he willed it to shift down. When he came off, flushed and bright eyed, Harry found Draco blushing looking away from him as he walked over to the blond.

Harry was about to ask if something was the matter when they heard a throat clear behind them. Draco's eyes widened, and as Harry turned around, he had to bite back an 'Oh, shit,' when he saw who was standing there. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape were giving them withering glares, prompting them to walk into the castle with a few short words.

iIiIiI

An hour later, they were both back in Draco's rooms. They had been split apart, Draco taken by Snape and Harry by Dumbledore. House points had been taken, and the only reason why they hadn't been given detention was because they had to keep Draco in his rooms. Snape had ripped Draco's defense apart, letting him know that he didn't doubt for a second that it was all Draco's doing. It was clear to the Potions Master who would be behind the idiotic plan, because although Potter was stupid, he wasn't this reckless with other's safety. He had berated Draco, asking him if this was the way to uphold his word to his father, letting him know that they were lucky he had seen them while out on patrol. If he hadn't caught sight of Potter for a split second, he and the Headmaster would not have known they were there. It would have only left time for someone else, someone more dangerous, to find them.

For his part, Harry was left feeling like utter crap. The Headmaster had let him know in no uncertain terms how disappointed he was in them, in both of them. He asked if Harry didn't understand the seriousness in the situation and went on to enumerate the various scenarios that could have occurred. Each one drove the point home, and Harry had apologized profusely, promising it would not happen again before finally being released. The walk back to the rooms was a lonely and cold one. Draco had been escorted by Snape, and he had made it home first. He had waited anxiously for Harry to return, not sure if he felt worse when he saw the defeated look on the Gryffindor's face.

"I'm sorry," Draco said before he had a thought to say anything at all.

"No," Harry shook his head, "I'm sorry. I should have said no. This is all my fault."

Now, that pissed Draco off. This was all obviously his fault, yet here was Potter taking the blame. "What am I? I was the one that convinced you. This is all my fault. There's no reason for you to feel badly about any of this," he said.

Harry joined him on the couch and looked at him, "You are cooped up here all of the time. No one can blame you for wanting a little freedom."

That took the wind out of Draco's sails. Letting his head fall heavily on Harry's shoulder, Draco looked up at the Gryffindor through his lashes, "You're unbelievable."

Harry looked at him and shrugged. He was, for a lack of a better word, bummed.

"Would some hot tea make it better?" asked Draco.

"No. Let's just go to bed," Harry said.

Draco bit his lip and gave it one last shot, "What about some chocolate? Would that help?"

Harry tried to disagree, telling himself that it would make nothing better, but eventually his resolve melted, "Yeah, I think it would, actually."

Draco grinned and squeezed the upper part of his arm lightly before going off to get them his stash. It was Harry's weakness, and he knew he had exploited it. Thing was, he just wanted to make it all better. It gave him an uneasy feeling when Harry looked like that, lost and sad, as if he was kicking himself inside, and he wanted to make that look go away. Even when Harry started smiling, however, Draco couldn't shake away the guilty feeling at the pit of his stomach.

iIiIiI

Hey, everyone. I'm glad you are all still with me, and I hope this chapter exemplifies how Harry and Draco's relationship has grown over the three month period they have been in each other's lives. Thank you so much for reading and REVIEW. Please let me know what you thought, and if it all seemed natural. I think it did, but I would appreciate your input. REVIEW.

Thanks so much,

Aly