Ron studied Harry for a while as he stood at the foot of his bed, an expression of dread on his face. He had not moved for quite some time and Ron feared he might stand there the whole night, gazing at his bed as if he expected it to grow fangs and attack him.

"Come on then, mate," Ron beckoned, shifting over to make room for his friend.

Harry let out a relieved sigh, shuffling over, his face flushed with embarrassment as he crawled in next to him.

The bed wasn't really big enough for the both of them. Ron was forced to lie on his side, his back to Harry's back. It was awkward and weird, but he and Hermione had discovered that Harry slept better when he had company. That wasn't to say that he was nightmare free, but his connection to something real helped him to stay grounded, helped him not wake up confusing dreams for reality – usually. It was the best they could do for the moment.

Ron preemptively tossed the comforter to the floor, leaving them with only a sheet. Both boys slept like furnaces and he didn't relish the idea of waking in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and dying from the heat.

"Night, Harry," Ron called, pulling the sheet up to his chin.

"Night," he replied weakly, probably still embarrassed about the whole situation.

After a while, he felt the tension drain out of the boy lying next to him, his breathing evening out into a steady cadence.

"Please don't attack me tonight," Ron whispered with a soft smile on his face, closing his eyes to join his friend in sleep.


Ron awoke to the sound of giggling at his bedside. He cracked one eye open to glare at the smirking faces of Seamus and Dean.

"What's Hermione going to say when she finds out?" Seamus inquired melodramatically, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Don't know," Ron grumbled, slipping carefully out of the bed so as not to wake his best friend. "It was her idea."

"Is that how it is?" Seamus replied, eyebrows raised in mock-surprise. "You can never tell by lookin' at em', can you?"

"Oh, come off it," Ron growled in irritation, ready for the teasing to be done. "You know he sleeps better like this."

Seamus snorted and sauntered off, Dean right behind him as they left the room. Ron could only shake his head at their antics.

It was Saturday, so there was no need to wake Harry up just yet. Ron could grab some breakfast and bring it up for him to eat later. As he watched, Harry shifted, curling in on himself against the cold. He grabbed the comforter off the floor and gently placed it over him.

"You're a really good friend," Neville remarked in a quiet voice, having watched the whole thing. "Harry's lucky to have you."

"He'd do the same for me," Ron responded, flushing slightly at the sudden compliment.

Neville nodded, thoughtfully watching Harry sleep for a while before padding across the room and out the door.


Draco noticed that Harry wasn't at breakfast. The Weasel looked decidedly disheveled and that worried him a bit. Maybe they'd had another rough night. Harry's friends didn't seem to be making any headway in helping him with his nightmares. Draco growled in frustration at their incompetence.

"Missing your boyfriend?" Pansy teased, so close he could smell her flowery shampoo.

White-hot anger settled in the pit of his stomach at her presence. Every time he saw her, it took everything he had not to launch himself at her throat. That feeling had not seemed to lessen even after several months had passed. She had very wisely been avoiding him – until today.

He spun around with a murderous look, eyes like daggers meeting her smug expression.

"At least I can get a boyfriend," he snarled, surprising himself as well as several others at the table. He'd meant to say girlfriend or lover or anything else, but his mouth had a mind of its own.

Her face purpled with fury as she slapped him, the sound reverberating across the Great Hall. Across the way, Professor Snape stood, catching Draco's attention. He shook his head in warning, hand cupping his face, hoping that the man understood that he wanted to handle this on his own.

With an evil smirk, he turned once more to face the traitor.

"What's the matter Pansy? Scared you'll die a lonely spinster," he sneered. It felt good to be saying these things to her, wounding her with his words, going right for her weaknesses like a well-aimed knife. He suddenly had a greater appreciation for his grandmother and her acid-tongue. Maybe they were more alike than either had ever realized.

Pansy was apoplectic with rage, eyes flashing dangerously. He hesitated for a moment then, wondering what more she could possibly do to him. She had already ruined him, but the promise of retribution in her eyes was enough to give him pause, enough even to quiet his willful tongue for a moment.

She composed herself with a disdainful sniff, her face settling into a haughty expression. "My prospects seem much better than yours at the moment," she replied, carefully concealed anger still smoldering behind her cold blue eyes. "Who would want to settle down with a nobody like you?"

Draco smiled, feeling brave once again despite the rampaging beat of his heart.

"Let's not lie to ourselves," Draco replied with an equally haughty expression on his face. "We all know you've wanted in my pants since day one. Did you invent that lie about Potter and me to help you feel better about yourself?"

The haughty expression on her face suddenly evaporated as several people nearby struggled not to snicker.

"Nice try," she replied, voice so cold with unspoken threat that it froze the very blood in his veins. "Should I let Potter know you're breaking up with him then?"

There was more to her words, some extra meaning that he struggled to decipher. Whatever it was, he knew it would not end well for Harry. This was the last thing he had intended to happen.

"You leave Harry out of it," he threatened, pulling close to whisper in her ear. "You won't like the consequences if you hurt him."

"It's Harry now, is it?" she chirped, face alight with triumph.

"I'm warning you," he roared, panic settling in at the thought of what she might be planning.

"What?" she replied, a smug expression on her face. "You going to tell your father? Oh, wait. You haven't got one of those anymore."

Draco's breath caught in his throat, his snarky comebacks finally failing him in his moment of need.

She turned and sauntered off, a satisfied expression on her face. He slumped to the bench in defeat. Just when he and Harry were starting to get along again, he had to go and ruin it. He had no doubt that Pansy intended to use Harry to hurt him. He had to warn him before things got out of hand.


Something hit the back of Harry's head, startling him into consciousness as he peeled his face off his textbook. At some point he had dozed off during the lesson and much to his surprise it seemed that Professor Snape had ignored it. A crumpled-up bit of parchment rolled under his chair. He turned to see where it had come from as it was mostly Slytherins in this class. Draco pointed at the floor, miming at him to open it. It was an exceedingly brave move for the boy – a first really – passing notes during class with all these witnesses.

Harry hesitantly picked up the note, opening it up cautiously in case it was a trap.

Meet me in the abandoned classroom. You know the one. – DM

At the bottom was a crude little doodle that appeared to be of Harry dozing at his desk, his head atop an opened textbook. Harry's brow drew together in confusion. Draco only drew flowers and he certainly didn't draw in public where anyone could see him.

He turned around again, the question plainly written on his face. Draco mouthed the word, 'Later' before gazing intently at Professor Snape.

Minutes felt like hours as he squirmed in anticipation of his meet-up with Draco. They hadn't really said more than a couple of things to one another, but it was beginning to feel more like Winter Break between them.

Snape's unbearable drawl as he announced the homework assignment went on forever. The second he was done, Harry darted for the door, heading straight for the classroom where he waited for Draco.

"Thought you only drew flowers," he questioned, emerald eyes twinkling in excitement as the boy entered.

"What?" Draco started in surprise, shaking his head suddenly before changing the subject. "Never mind, that not why I asked you here. I came to warn you that you were in danger."

Harry snorted in amusement, much louder than he had intended. "Danger? Really Draco? What's next? You going to tell me my hair is black and my eyes are green? I've been in danger all my life."

"Shut up," Draco growled in frustration, his gaze very serious. "I'm talking about Pansy now. She has it out to get you and..." he trailed off mumbling the rest, "...it's sort of all my fault."

"What did you do this time?" Harry sighed, eyeing the boy as he shifted anxiously.

His face flushed in embarrassment as he tried to explain himself. "I sort of said some things that maybe I shouldn't have."

"Big surprise there," Harry interrupted after another snort.

"No, you don't understand," Draco pleaded, eyes panicked. "Somehow she's figured out that we are friends. She's planning something, something that will hurt me by hurting you."

"It's fine," Harry said, brushing off this seemingly minor threat. Pansy was quite insignificant in the grand scheme of things – not when compared to someone like Voldemort. From what he knew of her, she typically attacked by spreading rumors – more rumors were something he could live with.

Draco sighed, shoulders starting to slump in defeat. "No, it's not fine," he whispered darkly. "You just don't know her like I do. Promise me you'll keep an eye out."

"If it will make you feel better, I promise to watch out for Pansy and her nefarious schemes," Harry conceded, trying to make his voice sound sincere before changing the subject. "Now tell me, when did you start drawing people?"

Draco smiled much more readily now, blushing slightly as he always did when they talked about his artwork.

"I thought I'd expand my repertoire. Maybe pursue a career as an artist," he replied, his voice dripping in sarcasm despite the color in his cheeks.

The idea of Draco flitting about in an upscale art gallery discussing his inspiration in smug tones while standing in front of some gaudy, abstract, purple blob brought a smile to Harry's face. He guessed that Draco was only kidding about becoming an artist. When they had been discussing career options, Harry had suggested it in a half-joking manner. Draco had scrunched up his face in displeasure, violently shaking his head like the thought of it was more than he could tolerate.

"That would be a terrible idea," Harry announced with a smirk, repeating what Draco had said when they first discussed it

Draco placed his hand over his heart, feigning at being hurt with a dramatic gasp. "I thought you supported me. Some friend you turned out to be?"

Harry shrugged in mock indifference.

Over winter break, these moments of playful banter were what he lived for. They had been few and far between, but it felt like playing Quidditch when it happened – living in the moment, the rush of excitement as his mind raced to keep up, how everything just felt right. He'd never admit it to Draco though, Draco always got weird around him when he talked about his feelings.

A hand waved in front of his face, concerned silver-grey eyes studying him intently. With a start, he realized that Draco had been talking to him for quite some time. He tried to rewind the conversation in his head, but it was all a blur.

"Thought I lost you there for a moment," Draco sighed in relief.

"Sorry," Harry whispered feeling rather foolish. He wasn't usually the type to get lost in daydreams.

"Let's go back to my room and I'll show you what I've been working on," Draco suggested, still studying Harry in concern.

"But how?" Harry spluttered in surprise. "It's not like I can just go waltzing into the Slytherin Common Room with you."

Draco smiled slyly, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Your friend Granger came up with a way for me to sneak into my room without having to go through the Common Room."

Harry nodded dumbly, too shocked to form coherent thoughts. It wasn't long before he found himself riding on a broom behind Draco, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, wondering when he had fallen asleep and begun dreaming. Draco had asked Hermione for help?