Malfoy's did not do emotional attachment.

Draco understood men, had, at an early age, deduced the power that beauty and sex could wield. He'd enjoyed wielding it. Never to hurt, he reflected now. He had never played the game with the risk of genuine pain on either side. No, Draco had always been careful to choose partners who understood the rules. Older men, men with smooth manners, hefty wallets, and guarded hearts. None of them would interfere with his career, his ambition, because the rules were simple and always followed. Fun, excitement, romance. With no spills, no tangles, no hard feelings when he moved on. No feelings at all. But plenty of poor judgment.

Now there was Harry. With him Draco's power was different, his dreams were different. The rules were different. Oh, the fun was there, and the excitement, and the romance. But there had already been spills and tangles. At night, when Harry lay curled beside him, the weight of his arm around him, the sound of his heart beating slow and steady under his ear, he remembered it all. Malfoy's also did not willingly show weaknesses. Draco knew that Harry knew he was having nightmares, though Harry had yet to discuss the matter with him. Draco could recite poems to the sound of Harry's heart beat; he knew how it sounded when Harry was awake, and the slightly sluggish beating as his love slept. If Harry was afraid to sleep, Draco stayed awake with him. He frowned, thinking about it. Draco could not sleep if Harry did not sleep. How very fucking pathetic and un-Malfoyish.

It was on one such sleepless night that Harry finally asked Draco the question that had burned in his mind since he'd woken up in the Hospital Wing. Draco had been dreading the day the conversation turned to this. Harry was lying on his side, idly tracing patterns on Draco's stomach, when he sucked up his courage and blurted it out. "Hey Draco?"

"Hmm."

"What was that spell you said? Aguape?"

Draco tensed slightly, cautiously wrapping an arm around Harry. He spoke quietly because he was afraid he might scream. Draco really did not wish to review this particular memory. "Don't be mad," Harry immediately raised his head and stared at Draco. Any statement that started with those words could not be good. Draco almost smiled at such a Slytherin response from his Harry. "I don't really know."

Harry shimmied up Draco's body; crawling up until he was looking Draco directly in the eye. "You mean to tell me that you used a spell against Voldemort with no idea what it was or if it would even work?"

A flush crept up Draco's neck. "Well, I knew what it was. A little. I just didn't know what exactly it would do." He absently ran his fingers up and down the sides of Harry's chest in a soothing manner. "When you fell…" He trailed off, looking away even as his arms banded tightly around Harry's torso. "Jesus Harry I thought you were dead. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to sever him limb from limb. I wanted to make his blood boil in his veins and dance to the music of his screams."

"Oh," Harry answered faintly.

"Yeah." Draco swallowed. "But I kept seeing you. Kept seeing your face. The way you looked at me when you trailed Patil's wand across my cheek. As much as I wanted to conjure a stake, tie the Dark Lord to it, and incarcerate him…" he laughed hollowly. "I knew you wouldn't approve." Harry sighed, dropping his face in the warm curve of Draco's neck. Draco brought his hand up and gently massaged the back of Harry's neck. They laid there, quiet, for several minutes. Harry jumped when Draco started speaking again. "I felt like my heart stopped beating." Harry lifted his head, watching Draco as his blonde stared fixedly at the ceiling. "My mom, my friends, everyone. I didn't care about them. I couldn't think about them. I saw you, and you were broken, and I swear time just stopped." Harry felt his heart leap into his chest as he saw the tears silently falling down the sides of Draco's face. "I know it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, maybe a minute tops, but it felt like forever. And my heart," he gestured vaguely to his chest "it hurt so desperately."

Harry nodded, leaning down to drop gentle kisses across Draco's chest. "I know the feeling."

Draco gave Harry an odd look, dismissing his words with a shake of his head. "Aguape literally means love." He gestured vaguely with his hand. "God's love for all mankind. I couldn't… a man like that feeds off terror and pain and hatred." He shrugged. "I haven't… I've never… The way you make me feel…" He gestured again. "I wanted him to know what he was missing. What he was risking by harming you. I wanted him to know the way that love makes you feel. How it changes you from the inside out."

"I'm proud of you." Harry's words stopped his stuttered explanation cold. He sighed, shifting Harry to lie more comfortably atop his body. Harry pulled back slightly, waiting until Draco looked him in the eye. "I heard you cast it. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that if I stood up and repeated it, I wouldn't regret it. Thank you for not making me regret it."

Draco scowled, feeling irritated for no apparent reason. "How could you possibly know I wouldn't say something vicious and soul altering?"

Harry snorted. "You think this wasn't soul altering?" He shook his head, smiling at Draco. "I knew because I trust you. I knew because I love you."

Draco stared at him. "How can you possibly love me that much?" He waved his hand, cutting Harry off as he opened his mouth to answer. "Yeah yeah, the whole 'coming back from the future to save me' piece. I get that. But I'm a different person now than I was when I fell in love with you then. How can you not worry I will wake up tomorrow and fall in love with someone else?"

Lips slightly parted, Harry gazed down at Draco. His voice sounded odd, his muscles tense. "Well," he began. "I love you that much because I know for certain what my life is like without you, and I never willingly want to experience that again. However," he paused, searching for the correct words. "If you decide tomorrow that you would rather be with someone else, I would let you go." Draco looked at him, gray eyes wide with hurt and surprise. Harry would let him go? Just like that? Didn't he know Malfoy's were stubborn and wouldn't give in even if they were coughing up blood? How DARE Harry say he would just let him go! After all the sleepless nights, and the worry, and the pain. That selfish bastard. Some hero he turned out to be.

"Of course," Harry's voice, mock thoughtful, pulled Draco's attention away from his increasingly irate thoughts. "That's only after I killed the other guy and scarred up your pretty body."

Draco started laughing. "Of course," he agreed. He pulled Harry's face down to his and kissed him possessively. "I really love you, you know."

Harry smiled, snuggling deeper into Draco's warmth. "I love you too."

The world was insane.

Narcissa felt it was a telling analysis of how utterly out of her depth she felt that this opinion brought her a strong sense of comfort. Dumbledore and Amelia Bones were temporarily running the Ministry of Magic; the teachers were repairing the damage done to Hogwarts and strengthening wards, Narcissa and Minerva McGonagall were running the school and reassuring the students, and Sirius…. Well, Sirius was teaching the students poker. Narcissa frowned, tossing back her hair as she patrolled the corridors of the school. What did she know about comforting children? All this wailing and shrieking and seemingly endless need for attention. Why couldn't all children be like Slytherin's? All it took was a look and a gesture to ensure correct behavior while in public. Behind closed doors… well, everyone needed a safe place to fall apart.

The children felt safe with her. Having been married to a Death Eater for more years than she cared to remember, Narcissa knew just the right spells and hexes to … persuade… parents facing incarceration, and parents incapable of correctly raising their budding offspring, to sign over guardianship. In three days time Narcissa had gone from a mother of one to a mother of sixteen. She shook her head, smirking as she docked ten points from Ravenclaw and escorted the pouting children back to their dorm. Honestly. She should open up her own school, where children would be taught educational as well as social mannerisms. Hmmm… there's a thought.

Whispered voices drew her attention down the third floor corridor. Walking quietly Narcissa saw Pansy Parkinson telling off a third year Hufflepuff for disrupting the school corridors. Having finished her lecture, Pansy placed her hand on the girls shoulder and murmured a few quiet phrases that had the young one straightening her shoulders and nodding in agreement before rushing off. Narcissa strolled forward and gently ran the back of her hand down Pansy's cheek, smiling in approval over her new daughter's behavior. Pansy beamed back at Narcissa, falling into step with her as she continued her nightly watch.

Take, for an example of insanity, the Death Eaters.

Trials were in the midst of organization, and this time around true Death Eaters were not able to blame the Imperius curse. When Harry destroyed Voldemort, the burst of energy produced had long reaching consequences. Double agents, like Severus Snape, found the Dark Mark removed from his flesh, to be replaced by a glowing lightening bolt. Similarly, Death Eaters and Dark Lord sympathizers, be them marked or not, found themselves with an angrily hissing snake burning on their arm. It was strictly by accident that Narcissa and the others had learned the significance of the mark. Harry had been sitting with his friends in the hospital wing when a Death Eater came over and shoved his arm in Harry's face, demanding an explanation. Even as Snape, Sirius, and Lupin forcibly restrained the man, Harry's eyes had focused on the tattoo. He made a strange hissing noise, listened intently for several minutes, and promptly bolted to the bathroom and vomited.

Upon his return no one commented on the fact he was shaking like a leaf and pale as death. Clinging to Draco, Harry proceeded to list off every sin the man had committed as a Death Eater. He rattled off specific names, places, and curses, as well as the way the man felt as each act was committed. Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Division, took notes and questioned the man under Veritaserum. The Veela's graciously agreed to maintain their placement at Azkaban prison until further arrangements could be made, much to the relief of the community as the cells began to fill. Narcissa smiled thinly, remembering Harry and Hermione's pleasure as a women named Dolores Umbridge was arrested and sent away for heinous crimes against Muggle born witches and wizards. Narcissa did not know the woman personally, but her incarceration provided Harry with his first genuine smile since waking up so she really didn't care.

Harry needed to smile more.

Narcissa inclined her head in greeting as Luna and Hermione fell into step with her and Pansy. "Straighten your robes," she calmly demanded, hiding a smile as Hermione blushed and hastened to obey before helping Luna who merely glanced around as though surprised to not find herself in her bedroom. Those emotionally invested both before and during the war were having troubles sleeping. Again, for some reason beyond her level of comprehension, the children felt safe with Narcissa and routinely gravitated to her side. McGonagall was the only one currently displeased with her, but that had more to do with Narcissa removing Harry from the Hospital Wing and to her personal quarters. Madame Pomphrey offered a token resistance to this move, but quelled her doubts when she saw how at ease Harry was in her presence and how frightening Narcissa could be when riled. Not even Peeves dared harass the woman, and Dumbledore was currently too busy offering hope and restoring order to interfere with her decisions. That and he didn't know the password to Narcissa's quarters.

Dumbledore was not on Narcissa's list of favorite people at the moment. The more time she spent observing Harry, the more she noticed the almost resigned countenance he developed when meeting with adults he knew would deceive or manipulate him in some way. That Harry loved and respected Dumbledore was obvious. It was equally obvious, however, that he did not know how to interact with the man when he wasn't expecting or demanding something from Harry. That would need to change before Narcissa allowed the Headmaster unsupervised visitation with her young charge.

Just thinking about everything Harry had endured in his young life, all the sacrifices he had made either willingly or unknowingly, filled Narcissa with a burning rage. She smothered it, for now, as she gestured for the children to precede her into her quarters. She nodded in response to the other children's greeting, accepted a cup of tea from Molly Weasley, and smacked Sirius on the back of his head as she passed by. She felt she could rather like the idea of having a cousin if it gave her someone to hit on a regular basis. Narcissa smiled, softened, as she saw the boys lying on the bed. Harry was asleep, deeply asleep, for the first time in days. Sprawled on his stomach, arms and legs intertwined with Draco's, he looked young and vulnerable and Narcissa's heart ached with the need to protect him, protect both of her boys.

She brushed a hand over Draco's head, remembering how that used to soothe him as a baby. If only it were still so easy to comfort and nurture. She dropped kisses on their heads, smiling as the movement made Harry mutter in his sleep and Draco tighten his arms. "Disgusting, isn't it; the codependency between the two?"

Narcissa turned, startled out of her silent reverie, instantly tensed to handle a threat against her boys. She relaxed when she noticed Snape sitting in the corner with an opened book in front of him. "Standing guard Severus?" She was teasing, but delighted in the blush that appeared on the Professor's cheeks.

"Not at all," his stiff tone belied the blush. "Potter has an unusual knack of getting into trouble, and I am simply ensuring he does not drag Draco into any more life threatening situations." He glowered at Narcissa when her smile widened. "Besides," he continued defensively, "recent events have me behind in my reading."

"Ah."

Snape glared at Narcissa and opened his mouth to emit a scathing response when Harry began whimpering and muttering on the bed. In a heartbeat he was by the boy's side, rubbing his back and speaking soothingly. "It's all right Harry, you're safe. It's over. You're ok." When Draco began to fidget Snape didn't hesitate to reposition his arms around Harry. He kept up his soothing ministration until both boys were once again deeply entrenched in sleep. He stood there, frowning down at them, for another long moment before he stiffened; remembering Narcissa's presence.

Narcissa felt like someone had reached inside of her and squeezed her heart. Her boys were having nightmares, and Severus was making sure they rested. She blinked, surprised to find moisture on her cheeks. Stepping forward, she placed both hands on Severus' cheeks. "Thank you for protecting my boys," she whispered, before leaning in and kissing him soundly on the mouth. Snape gaped at her in shock, the flush intensifying on his face. She smiled at him before sweeping out of the room.

Her heart felt warm as she looked around her common room. Molly Weasley was laughing with her son Bill while they baked cookies and treats. Ginny, Blaise, Fred, George, Pansy, Charlie, and Luna were playing poker with Sirius and Remus. Hermione was curled up in the chair before the fire reading a rather large book with a look of intense concentration, occasionally shooting looks of amused exasperation towards the loud group at the table. The environment spoke of familiarity and comfort. Narcissa felt her resolve harden. This was her family now; this is what she could offer to the hurting children now under her guardianship. She was not going to allow anyone to take this away from her. With one last searching look she turned and headed towards the portrait hole, laughing at the creative curses as Luna innocently placed down her Royal Flush over Sirius's Full House. Smiling, she smacked Sirius upside the head again as she passed by.

Who was she to deny insanity?

They were determined to not let him rest.

That was the inevitable conclusion Harry came to. People coming by at all hours of the night, approaching him without thought of whether or not he felt like talking or shaking hands or wading through the emotions stirred up by battle. He understood, he really did, but he was just so tired. His head hurt, his muscles ached, he felt horribly exposed and vulnerable, and he found himself wincing whenever anyone came too close to him. When Narcissa swept into the Hospital Wing minutes before midnight and informed Madame Pomphrey she was taking Harry to her rooms to heal properly, Harry was so overcome with relief he damn near started crying. McGonagall started yelling, Dumbledore was called into the fight, Sirius started roaring about his Godson's right to privacy, and Moony joined in trying to get everyone to remain calm. Narcissa didn't say a word. She simply smirked, snapped her fingers, and not two seconds later Harry found himself ensconced in a lovely, warm, soft, quiet bedroom with Snape pouring potions down his throat and Mrs. Weasley pushing warm and fragrant soup into his hands.

"How…" he began.

"Marlin." Snape answered shortly, waving his wand over Harry before selecting various bottles. At Harry's questioning look he rolled his eyes. "The Malfoy family house elf. Wizards and witches cannot apparrate within the grounds of Hogwarts, but according to you Dobby assisted you on some grand adventure or another." Harry looked around and spotted the elf hovering near the bed and smiled in greeting. Snape took advantage of Harry's open mouth to drug him again. Harry glared. "We could not, of course, use Dobby to remove you from the Hospital Wing," Snape continued, blithely ignoring Harry's sulky face, "as only bound house elf's can be forbidden to reveal information."

"Harry dear," Molly interrupted, swatting Snape's hand away from Harry to spoon feed him a bite of soup. "How are you feeling?" Harry didn't even try to answer, as every time he opened his mouth someone shut him up with potions or food. He merely shrugged and obediently opened his mouth for more soup. He wasn't too sure where he was or what was going on, but he felt immeasurably safer with Snape and Mrs. Weasley than he ever had in the Hospital Wing. It was quiet, it was warm, it was quiet, he was safe, it was quiet, no one was attempting to maul him, and it was quiet. Harry was ready to move it forever, if only…

"Harry!" Draco, Hermione, Ron, Pansy, Blaise, Fred, George, and Ginny rushed in followed closely by a large black dog. Draco and the dog jumped on the bed at the same time, and Snape looked wickedly happy as he sent a stinging hex at the dog for disrupting his carefully aligned potions. Narcissa and Moony entered at a much more sedate pace, and from there the story came about. He was in Narcissa's suite of rooms at Hogwarts. The room had the Fidelius Charm over it with Narcissa as the secret keeper. Harry was to remain here until both Narcissa and Snape were reassured over his health. Harry smiled; feeling safe for the first time in months, curled up net to Draco, and promptly fell asleep.

The nightmares started almost immediately.

One minute Harry was trapped in a graveyard staring into the lifeless eyes of Cedric Diggory, the next he was watching Sirius fall through the veil. He was walking into the Forbidden Forest with his parents, he was eleven and watching a floating mass of blackness sucking the blood from a unicorn, he was standing over Draco's grave with such an empty aching sense of loss he felt like he was bleeding from the pain of it. He woke up sweating and shaking and terrified and embarrassed. He knew these were just dreams, he knew Voldemort was gone, but it was like his mind had decided now was the time to remember every fear, every negative memory, in order to exorcise it from his system. For the first week Snape took to sitting in his room at night, for which Harry was grateful. If he managed to pull himself out of his nightmares he would search desperately until he saw Snape sitting in his corner, watching him quietly and calmly and radiating protection. If he could not wake himself up, he woke up to Snape bending over him, murmuring platitudes until he went back to sleep. Why he felt safer with Snape than anyone else he could not say, and, thankfully, nobody asked him to try.

Draco barely left his side. One night, unable to sleep, he had lain next to Draco startled when his blonde began thrashing and pleading and crying out for Harry. Snape soothed him, too. Patting his back, and repositioning him on his side with his arm draped over Harry, with such an air of practice it had obviously happened before. It was awful to witness, but for some reason seeing that Draco had nightmares as well made Harry feel better. As the days passed, he was finally able to begin sleeping through the night.

He began secretly referring to Narcissa as the Amazon Queen. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and any ministry official were not allowed near him. Hermione and Moony developed a parchment similar to the Marauders Map that allowed for two way conversations, which was what "Harry" used for communication. Sometimes Sirius answered for him, sometimes Hermione or Pansy. Harry knew he should care, or at the very least feel bad for disrespecting his elders, but the questions he was asked were so completely asinine and redundant he didn't care. Somehow Harry didn't think that when asked how he was feeling the answer they were seeking was: 1. Smug – After all, he was living with the Deputy Headmistress, former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Potions Master, dating a Prefect, and had the smartest witch of their generation taking careful notes and collecting his homework. Who cared if he went to class? 2. Lazy – Harry woke up, was coddled by Molly and Narcissa and Draco, ate, slept, attempted his homework, and then repeated the cycle. 3. Empty – He'd forgotten that confusing sense of loss associated with having the part of him that was Voldemort removed. 4. Guilty – He'd survived, others had not. Simple as that. Yes, Hermione's response was slightly more articulate.

Somehow Narcissa had managed to create a gang of students similar to the DA. She made it abundantly clear that Harry and Draco were not to be questioned, disturbed, or sought out. Those who dared overstep their boundaries or pressure those who knew Harry's whereabouts found themselves waking up in the Hospital Wing or running from the school grounds howling in pain. One night, unable to sleep, Harry had wandered aimlessly around the corridors deep in thought. Several parents and Auror's cornered him, but before he was able to sufficiently react they were lying on the floor unconscious and Harry found himself being led to the Slytherin common room and situated in front of the fire with a mug of hot chocolate. He was laughing with his new friends and playing exploding snap when Snape swept in.

Finally, Hermione put her foot down. Literally. She cornered him and stamped her feet and howled about how he only had less than fifteen weeks to prepare for his O.W.L.'s and he better be ready to rejoin society and face the repercussions of war soon. After all, as she shrilly pointed out, no one could call him a liar or insane or deny Voldemort's previous existence anymore. All he had left to deal with was people gaping at him and worrying about him becoming the next Dark Lord. And if he could handle that when he was twelve and fighting Basilisks, and fourteen after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and seventeen after gallivanting around on dragons while being half starved and hunted by both sides, then now would be a piece of cake since the vast majority of all four houses knew a variety of interesting curses and would jump to his defense.

So, here it was, the night before he was to go back to classes, and he still couldn't sleep.

"Ppst!" Harry ignored the hissing noise, praying to whichever Gods existed that the person would give up and go away if he stayed quiet. "Ppst!" Oh, come on. Please? "Harry James Potter," the whispering voice sounded angry, "do not think for one instant I spent the better part of a year sleeping in a tent with you to not know when you are asleep and awake!"

Groaning, Harry stubbornly kept his eyes closed, but lifted up the corner of his blanket in mute welcome. He shifted slightly when bushy brown hair tickled his chin, disturbing the sleeping form spooned up behind him. "Fuck Potter!" Draco sounded sleepy and irritated. "Tempus." A creative stream of curses followed. "Granger. I hate you and your unsightly hair. It's four fifteen in the bloody morning. If you must speak with Potter do it without hissing or being shrill or I will curse you beyond recognition and submit you to Ripley's Believe It Or Not. Understood?" Having successfully delivered his threat Draco turned over and burrowed into his pillow.

Harry smiled, still not opening his eyes, and reached back to pat Draco's bum consolingly. Hermione sniffed. "Well really, was that necessary?"

Hearing the very real threat of tears in her tone, Harry reluctantly opened his eyes to look at the girl now curled up in his arms. "Mione? What's the matter?"

Hermione sniffed again, tears spilling from her eyes. "We haven't had a chance to talk in ages. And I keep seeing…" she trailed off, shuddering. "Harry, you nearly died! And I can't sleep because I keep seeing all these memories every time I close my eyes. Only they're not memories." Hermione started absently patting Harry's arm as she tried to explain herself. "It's like… It's like I can remember all the times we shared that we haven't shared yet, but they're starting to seem unreal." Hermione's voice was trembling again. She sounded slightly desperate, and in spite of Draco's threat was becoming slightly loud. "Does that make sense?"

Harry rubbed Hermione's back soothingly. "Kind of," he whispered. He looked over his shoulder at Draco, counting his breaths to make sure he was really asleep. Reassured, he continued. "I remember the way I felt… watching Draco on top of the Astronomy Tower after sixth year. I remember the feelings and the sounds and watching his hand shake and the tears in his eyes and the way Dumbledore looked at him. But… it's blurry; muffled almost. It feels like a dream. You know?"

Hermione sniffed, cuddling closer. "I can't remember the way Ron smelled."

Harry blinked. "Um, what?"

"During the search for the Horcruxes. The night he came back after being such an ass and leaving? I remember turning over and smelling that ridiculous cheap cologne he used to wear. I hated it. But for the life of me I can't remember it. When I dream about it, it's blurry and seems so far away."

Harry sighed. "Maybe we're not meant to remember. We gave those memories up."

Hermione was quiet for a minute, lying thoughtfully next to Harry. "We might not have succeeded you know."

Harry froze. "What?"

She nodded. "It was the last part of the incantation that brought us here. You were asking me something," she frowned, thinking. "Something about dragons, and it became really loud. Narcissa was shouting it out to us. Something about how if the fates found your contribution unworthy we would be transported back to the exact moment we left and damn the consequences."

"What?" Harry's voice was slightly louder this time. "Damn the consequences? What does that mean?" Hermione bit her lip. "Mione," Harry's voice was ominous. "Draco really won't care if I hex you out of our bed right about now."

"Well," she began hesitantly; shooting a suspicious look at Draco's sleeping form. "The changes we had made would remain in effect and we would have to deal with the consequences in our real time."

Harry's mind was whirling. "Neville?" He asked quietly. Hermione nodded. Harry closed his eyes. If they had failed, if they had not succeeded…. What would have happened in two years when he fought Voldemort if he had broken up with Draco and Neville was not there to kill the snake? Would he have even ended up with Draco? Worse, there would have been nothing he could do to fix everything because he would be arriving two years after the final battle had originally taken place. "I could have lost Draco." His voice was flat. "We could have lost everyone."

Hermione nodded warily, she looked rather frightened of him. "Yes," she whispered. "Oh but Harry don't think like that! We now have two years more with the ones we love than we had before. And if our memories are fading…" she looked rather distressed that her clever mind was failing her in some regard. "Well, without those memories we will be just like regular teens finishing our schooling. No fanfare, no threats, just… normal things."

"Normal, right." Harry's voice sounded bitter. He was trembling as his mind swiftly ran through a list of worst case scenarios.

"Granger." Draco sounded irritated again as he rolled over and pushed Harry down onto his back. He snuggled into the crook of his arm, smiling as Harry immediately relaxed against him. "If you are only going to upset Harry, I'm kicking you out of bed."

Hermione laughed, relieved as Draco broke the tense conversation. "I'll behave," she promised faithfully, snuggling into Harry's other side.

Harry looked between the two, rather bewildered to suddenly find himself in this position. "So… do I look like a teddy bear or something?"

"Umm, no," Draco's voice was thick with sleep. "You're mine. That's it." He frowned, smacking Harry lightly on his chest. "Potter," he began plaintively. "I have put up with your mutt of a Godfather sleeping on our feet at random intervals. Am I seriously expected to allow stray Gryffindor's into out bed as well?"

Harry smiled, leaning over to kiss Hermione's forehead. Sighing as she once again teared up at the gesture. "She's like my sister Draco. Her or Pansy or Luna or Ginny. That's it. I promise."

Draco heaved a long suffering sigh. "If I must. At least you didn't include Weasley in that list." He smirked suddenly, blindly reaching across Harry and accidentally smacking Hermione in the face until he found her cloud of hair. Patting it to get her attention, he muttered, "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Please can I be the one to tell Ron tomorrow that you begged admittance into our bed and willingly slept with Harry and me?"

"Draco!" Hermione may have sounded slightly more intimidating had she not been giggling. "That's not quite what happened." Draco merely raised an eyebrow and waited. "Fine," she sighed. "Now go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day and you only have fourteen weeks until our O.W.L.'s."

Groaning, Harry tightened his hold around his family, mentally preparing himself for a full day of classes tomorrow. Including potions. Ugh. Hermione was right. Again. Getting rid of Voldemort was nothing - He still had two more years of school to get through.