*** Day 64 - Harry ***

Harry awoke the next morning to the sound of utensils clanking against porcelain. The warm smell of eggs, butter, and toast filled his nostrils as he inhaled, and his mouth watered uncontrollably. How long had it been since he'd had a homemade breakfast? Oh, what he wouldn't give for one of Mrs. Weasley's poppyseed muffins, hot and fresh and dripping with jam. Harry's stomach grumbled irately at the thought.

The clinking stopped.

"Are you hungry?"

The sound of Malfoy's voice was as sudden as it was sharp. Harry turned, his sweat-soaked sheets twisting around his torso as he moved. Malfoy was looking at him from the other side of the room, his grey eyes dark and unblinking. For a moment, Harry wondered if he was dreaming.

Malfoy huffed and pushed himself up from his chair. Harry could tell the movement was still hard for him. "Are you going to answer me, or should I go ahead and send the rest of this food down to the dogs?" He held up a plate in his left hand, his half-eaten breakfast still steaming on top.

"I…" Harry paused unsurely. He had to be dreaming… "You'd give it to me?"

"You're such an idiot." Heatedly, Malfoy stalked forward, straight through the wards. The room gave a brief flash of lavender, and by the time Harry's eyes readjusted to the light, Malfoy was already upon him. Heart leaping up into his throat, Harry slammed himself back against the headboard, his knees curling up into his chest.

The blond merely rolled his eyes and set the plate down on the bed next to him. Harry eyed it warily. Could it be hexed? Poisoned, maybe?

"I didn't do anything to it if that's what you're worried about. Look." Malfoy picked up the fork and delicately folded his lips around a morsel of eggs. He chewed efficiently and swallowed. "See?"

Harry eyed the plate again, but his stomach quickly won over his brain. He grabbed the plate and fork and began plowing food into his mouth. After months of nothing but scraps of over-dry meat and stale bread, he'd never tasted anything so delicious. The eggs melted across his tongue and slid down his throat, and the jam on the toast was fresh and bursting with flavor. Not that he had the time to properly appreciate it—he was too busy inhaling every last crumb.

"You're going to make yourself sick."

Harry ignored him and kept eating.

Malfoy shook his head, his white-blond hair falling down to sweep against a sun-washed blackened eye. It was unnerving how ethereal the Slytherin could look sometimes. Morning light was spilling in through the large bay windows, giving Malfoy's silhouette an almost unearthly glow. He looked so different from any other boy Harry had ever seen—all pale features and painfully beautiful lines. Maybe he had Veela blood in him somewhere, like Fleur.

Harry suddenly realized that he wasn't eating anymore, and that Malfoy's eyes were on him again, one pale quizzical brow raised.

"I—uh…" Harry swallowed, his cheeks going red. "Thank you—for the food I mean."

Malfoy only nodded.

"So then" Harry shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth, "are we…talking now?"

"What do you call what we're doing right now?"

Harry pursed his lips, snuffing the spark of his temper quickly before it had time to catch. Insults were better than nothing at all. Oh, how Ron would cringe if he knew that Harry had actually missed talking to Malfoy. "I'll take that as a yes then."

"Good for you," Malfoy smirked.

"So what changed your mind?"

A shallow shrug lifted Malfoy's shoulders as he leaned back against the windowsill. "Does it matter?"

"It mattered enough to change your mind," Harry replied, setting the—now clean—plate aside. It hadn't sunk in until that moment just how little lay between them now. No bars. No wards. Nothing. How long had it been since he'd been this close to another person?

"Touché." Malfoy's head cocked towards his right shoulder, his hair falling across his forehead. "Very well, since I know you won't stop asking until I've told you, I've decided to talk to you again because it's much less annoying than not talking to you."

Harry shifted, pushing himself up into a more sturdy position. "Less annoying?"

"Quite."

"Less annoying how?"

"Well, you huff a lot for one thing."

"I…" Harry's lips didn't seem to know whether to smile or frown, "huff a lot?"

"I sit well across the room and I can hear you breathing, Potter. Do you have any idea how creepy that is when I'm trying to fall asleep?"

"I hadn't noticed I was doing it."

"I'm sure you don't notice a lot of things you do." A dramatic sigh pouted Malfoy's bottom lip. "Unfortunately for me, your disturbing habits are my constant companion."

Harry nodded as he eased the comforter back and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He noticed Malfoy eye the action carefully, the line of his shoulders growing tense. He wished he knew what to say to smooth out that line again—to make being near him seem less dangerous than reality had made it. "So," Harry stepped forward, "we're okay again?"

Grey eyes went as sharp as the edge of shattered glass. "Please, Potter, don't be daft. How can there be an 'again' if we've never been anything even remotely resembling 'okay' in the first place?"

Harry couldn't help his flinch—the venom in Malfoy's words stung more than he cared to admit. He could practically feel the other boy retreating back into that dark, icy place that Harry could never breach. "But…I thought…"

"I'm not so proud that I won't admit that you fooled me," Malfoy's words cut through him like an arctic wind. "But I think we've both learned our lesson about allowing ourselves to get too comfortable around each other."

"That has nothing to do with what happened. You can't honestly say that you didn't expect me to try and escape."

"You're right," Malfoy replied simply. Harry waited for something else, but nothing came. And Harry suddenly realized that the wall that hung between them no longer had bars, but that didn't make it any less real.

"Malfoy…I never meant for anything to happen to you." And he hadn't, and it was strange because he knew he shouldn't have cared. Seeing Malfoy bleeding and broken on the ground shouldn't have churned a black pit of rage in his stomach. All he should've cared about was getting out of that cell, but somewhere along the way…something had changed.

"Yeah, well," Malfoy tore his gaze away and moved it to the ceiling. "It did." Sunlight caressed the swollen line of his cheekbone, highlighting the splay of black and blue skin that trailed down his neck into his collar. "And it's not going to happen again."