A/N: In this house we don't support JK Rowling.

HARRY:

"You should tell McGonagall about Cleveley," Harry told Draco as they left the kitchens, full of sandwiches and pumpkin juice. "She can help you."

"I don't need her help," Draco snapped. "That will just make everything worse. They already think I'm a coward."

They fell silent while Harry tried to think of what to say. Before he had decided, however, Draco spoke again. "Have you heard about all the attacks on pureblood families? The Ministry's trying to hush them all up."

Harry nodded. "I have. Are your family okay?"

"Yes. At least for now. I'm sure it's only a matter of time, though. There are plenty of people who aren't very happy about us not getting Azkaban time."

Harry understood why people thought that: not everyone had seen the way that, in the end, the Malfoys' true loyalty was to each other and not to Voldemort.

As they headed up the stairs, noise from the Entrance Hall gradually became audible – lunch was over. Draco stopped dead and turned to Harry. "You haven't told Weasley and Granger about our meeting in the Room of Requirement, have you?"

"No. If I had they wouldn't have left me alone in there. I think they assume it didn't survive the fire."

"Good," Draco said. He was fiddling with the sleeves of his robes. "Can we keep it a secret, please? I don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself at the moment."

"Sure," Harry said. "It's not as though I was planning on holding a school-wide conference to tell everyone about my newfound friendship with a Malfoy." Draco rolled his eyes and smiled.

Harry went to continue up the stairs but stopped when he realised Draco hadn't moved. "Shall I take some shortcuts to potions?"

Draco nodded. "That would be ideal." His hands were fidgeting and he was looking past Harry and up the stairs. "Thank you."

"No problem," Harry said, turning and heading up the stairs again. "See you later."

Harry could see why Draco didn't want people to know they were spending time together. As far as he could tell, most of the school just ignored Draco and Harry couldn't blame him for wanting it to stay that way. He was glad they were friends now, but he knew it would take a while before things started to be less awkward between them. They had a rough history, after all.

Ron and Hermione were already waiting outside potions when Harry arrived. They were holding hands and stood a little away from the other early-arrivers.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ron demanded as Harry reached them. "Did Bladderwort keep you all lunch?"

"Well, she kept me for a bit and then I went to the kitchens for a quick lunch. Said hello to Kreacher, too."

"What did she want to talk to you about?" Hermione asked. Was it something that will benefit your career because I definitely think having someone like her on your side will be a huge asset?"

"Blimey, Hermione, calm down. It's way too early for all this career talk. It's not even November yet."

Hermione pursed her lips. "It's never too early to think about your future, Ron."

"For you, maybe," he said. "But I just want to enjoy our last year at school and worry about all that stuff later."

As they were talking, Harry saw Draco arrive and join his friends. His eyes met Harry's quickly before he looked away. Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye, taking in his elaborate hand gestures as he spoke to his friends – presumably telling them some lie about where he'd been all of lunch. When Harry brought his attention back to Ron and Hermione, Hermione was talking about one of the books on wizarding law she had read and Ron seemed to be listening appreciatively.

During potions, Harry found his gaze drifting over to Draco's desk quite frequently. Every time he looked, Draco was focusing intently on his cauldron and didn't return Harry's gaze. Harry's mind drifted to their earlier encounter with Cleveley. Draco's reaction to the slur he was called had been the same as his own and he wondered if Draco was gay. He remembered what he told him about Pansy not being his type and the way he'd asked him if he had a problem with benders.

"Harry! Your potion!" Harry looked down at his cauldron at Hermione's words. He had stopped stirring and opaque black bubbles were now advancing on the edge of his cauldron, threatening to spill over and douse his desk in magnetising potion. He quickly resumed his anticlockwise stirring.

At the end of the lesson, Harry watched as Draco submitted his potion to Slughorn. "Good work," Harry heard Slughorn say. "This looks perfect." Draco made eye contact with Harry as he was walking back to his desk and they smiled at each other. Draco quickly wiped the smile from his face and looked away, focusing far too closely on his bag as he packed up.

After dinner the next day, Harry was walking along the seventh floor corridor, covered by his invisibility cloak. Ron and Hermione had told him they were going for a walk, so he had an opportunity to go to the Room of Requirement without being bombarded with questions regarding his disappearance. He found that he was hoping Draco would be in there. He wanted to talk to him – get to know him as a friend rather than an enemy.

When he arrived, however, it was empty. He pulled the cloak off and stuffed it into his bag. He didn't have any unfinished homework so he sat down at his desk and brought out his journal and a quill.

If past me somehow got hold of this journal, he wouldn't believe what I'm about to write: I am now officially friends with Draco Malfoy. I can't really say I know him as a friend yet because we haven't talked since, but hopefully we can get over our pasts.

I've been thinking about him quite a lot recently. I realised that I subconsciously look for him in the Great Hall at meals and that I notice him in my lessons a lot more than I did at the start of the year. I'm not sure what that means.

The door opened and Harry quickly shut his journal. Draco walked in and gave a shy smile (an expression Harry had never seen before on his face).

"Hello," Harry said as he put his journal back into his bag.

Draco sat down at his desk and twisted in his chair so he was facing Harry. "Hello."

"Do you have homework to do?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco said. "I was just going to read." He pulled a heavy-looking book out of his bag and set it down on the desk. Harry turned to face his desk and watched Draco read from the corner of his eye. He was leant over the book, deeply engrossed in it. Hermione read like that all the time but for some reason Harry found Draco doing it much more endearing. He looked more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him.

"Anything interesting in there?" Harry asked after a few minutes. He hated to tear Draco away from his book but he wanted to have a conversation, not just watch him read.

Draco looked up and blinked in surprise. "Well," he said after a brief pause, "did you know that phoenix tears can heal pretty much anything?"

Harry chuckled. "That's actually something I did know. I've been healed by phoenix tears before."

"You have? When?"

"Second year. I was bitten by a basilisk and Dumbledore's phoenix saved me."

"Merlin's beard!" Draco had begun quickly flicking through pages of the book. "You survived a basilisk bite? My father told me about the basilisk, but he didn't say you had anything to do with it." He reached the page he was looking for and pointed fervently at something one it. "Look at this. You had one of those stuck in you?"

Harry stood up and moved so he was stood next to Draco's chair. He was pointing to an illustration of a basilisk fang that was accompanied with the words 'almost impossible to cure'. "Yes, I did."

"Merlin's beard," Draco said again, looking up at Harry in awe. "Did it leave a scar?"

Harry pulled back his right sleeve and held his arm out for Draco to see, gesturing to the spot just above his elbow where the fang had pierced him. There was no sign of it at all. Draco ran his hand along the skin Harry had indicated. His skin tingled under Draco's soft fingers and he suddenly noticed his heartbeat.

Draco looked up, his fingers lingering on Harry's skin. Harry could see clearly that Draco's cheeks were tinged pink. He noticed Draco's eyes: pale grey and unexpectedly vulnerable. He noticed his hair and his skin and he finally knew what this meant. He met Draco's eyes again and this time looked into them properly, but Draco looked away and withdrew his hand from Harry's arm.

"Sorry," Draco mumbled. Harry slowly pushed his sleeve back down, watching as Draco started flipping through his book again until he had returned to the page about phoenix tears.

"What for?" Harry asked as he sat back down at his desk. Draco shrugged, looking everywhere but at him. Harry looked at Draco's slender fingers as he fiddled with them, wondering how he had never noticed his hands before. He wondered whether Draco felt the same way he felt. He remembered Draco asking him if he had a problem with benders and felt a tiny flicker of hope that Draco also liked blokes.

"For interrupting whatever you were doing," Draco said, looking determinedly at his desk.

"I wasn't doing anything," Harry said. Draco frowned. "Actually…" He paused and ran his hand through his hair. "I just came because I was hoping you were going to be in here."

"What?" Draco said softly, his eyebrows raising. "Why?"

"Well we're friends now, aren't we? I was hoping we could get to know each other better now we don't hate each other's guts."

Draco gave a weak laugh. "What do you want to know about me?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Are you interested in healing?" He gestured to the book.

Draco nodded. "It's a recently discovered interest. Growing up, I always thought I would end up in the ministry but this year I started reading about potions and realised I could do a lot of good. Try and make up for some of my past actions, you know?" Harry nodded. "There's no need to ask what you want to do, is there?"

"Well," Harry said glumly, "to be honest I don't know what I want to do."

"Really? I thought you wanted to be an Auror?"

"I did but I think I couldn't really imagine life without fighting because that's all my life had been. But now it's different: I'm sick of fighting.

"What else are you good at?"

Harry shook his head. "Defence Against the Dark Arts is the only subject I've ever been good at."

"You could teach it. I mean, they're looking for a permanent defence teacher, aren't they?"

Harry had never thought of that. He remembered how good it had felt to teach Dumbledore's Army. He stared at Draco with an open mouth.

"That's perfect," he said quietly. "How did you know that would be perfect for me?"

Draco shrugged and smiled sheepishly, colour rising to his cheeks. "I was only trying to think of careers involving Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"I did love teaching Dumbledore's Army."

"That club you started in fifth year? I didn't realise you taught them."

"What did you think we did? Plot against the ministry?"

"Well, yeah. That's what Umbridge told us you were doing."

Harry chuckled. "No. We only started it because people wanted someone to teach them practical defence rather than the useless theory that toad was teaching us."

Draco nodded. "That makes more sense." He paused, staring at his hands in his lap. "Most of the things I've been told in my life have been lies," he said softly, speaking more to himself than to Harry.

For a brief moment, Harry thought Draco was going to cry, but suddenly he snapped his head up and looked at Harry, his expression unreadable. He looked away from Harry and packed his book away quickly. Harry watched, dumbfounded, as Draco strode from the room; and he could have sworn he saw a glare in his direction.

Harry sat for a while, wondering what he had done wrong. He should have known better than to think they would have no problem being friends. He definitely should have known better than to think Draco would fancy him, especially after all the years of hating him.

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