Chapter Eight

Draco first realized what Harriet's magic felt like when she gave him his wand back after the trail.

It was still there, embedded and warm as he wrapped his fingers around it for the first time in a long time. He practically felt it radiating there in the hawthorn wood.

"I figured you should have it back," she said, standing there awkwardly after the trail had ended. After she had helped him to win his freedom back.

"You mean since I'm allowed to have it back. Since my name is cleared."

He wanted it to come off as bitter. As more of a smart-mouthed retort.

But it didn't.

His voice was soft, his focus on the way her magic was reacting to his fingertips. The way it was humming. Almost purring. He had never felt anything like it before. He didn't know then what it meant. He wouldn't until months later.

"It's a good wand. A bit stubborn," she commented. "Like it's wielder."

Draco had smiled at that. It was the first time he could remember smiling genuinely around her.

"It takes a skilled hand. So no doubt it gave you a bit of trouble."

He didn't miss the way her lips twitched at this, even though she turned her head in an attempt to hide it.

"Well, anyway, my own wand is fixed now. There's no reason for me to hold onto this one. Figured it was time to give it back."

"Thank you," he said.

She blinked at him, surprised. He supposed he couldn't blame her. This was the most civil they had been to one another. Nothing had been blown up just yet.

"Oh — you're welcome."

Draco smiled, attempting to make it kind. "See you, Potter."

He turned to leave before she could say anything else. Before he could mess it up any further. He had planned for that to be their last interaction unless absolutely necessary.

He didn't know then as he wrapped his fingers tighter against his wand to feel her magic, what it was trying to tell him.

Draco wasn't going to mention anything about the night before.

Nothing about them sleeping in the same bed together. Nothing about her asking him to hold her.

(Hold her.)

Nothing.

But he was going to savor the moments when the first rays of morning sun peeked through the open windows, illuminating her and making her look like sunshine. He allowed himself the freedom of brushing her fringe back from her scar. Surely since she had requested him to hold her, he was allowed that one liberty.

Surely…

His fingers intertwined themselves further into her hair until he was stroking her head. Until she was subconsciously leaning into his touch, sighing sleepily. Happily.

He had never seen her looking this at ease. This content. At least, not around him he hadn't.

He wanted to remember this moment, attempting to memorize the way her mouth parted slightly in her sleep. The way she had a few scattered freckles across her nose that he didn't know of before because he had never been close enough to see them until now. He was so afraid this would be all he would ever get from her. Even if it was, it would still be more than he would ever deserve.

She looked so young as she slept, her features relaxed and settled. It felt wrong to have to wake her, but he knew that he was going to have to do so soon. Classes were about to start for the day and if they had any hope of making it to breakfast on time, they would have to get moving now.

Which was unfortunate. Draco had never been more content to lounge around in bed for the remainder of the day as he did in this current moment.

And he felt as if she deserved a day off after everything she had been through the past few days. He hadn't realized just how little she got to rest until now. He wondered why he hadn't considered that fact before when she spent most of her years at Hogwarts fighting for her life.

This year was supposed to be different for her. Voldemort was gone. The war was over. Why couldn't the world just leave her be? Why did these attacks have to start now, the latest one singling her out specifically?

Why couldn't…

Why couldn't he keep her safe?

Draco's fingers tightened around her curls almost on instinct as the sinking feeling settled around him. Something or someone else was out there somewhere, and if they didn't want her dead, they at least wanted to hurt her.

He spent most of the war worrying that she would end up dead. That he would lose her without ever really having her.

And now that he had her — though not fully — he was still in danger of losing her.

His heart was beating rapidly and he felt on the verge of a panic attack. Harriet's eyes fluttered open then, blinking in confusion until she was able to focus on him. Until he was able to see the recognition in her eyes that she was in bed next to him. Until he was certain that she would shoot up out of his bed, threatening him within an inch of his life that he was to report this to no one.

But she did none of those things.

Her fingers tightened against the material of his nightshirt, and she yawned before burying her head in his chest. Draco blinked. This was...unexpected. Perhaps she was still out of it.

"What time is it?" she groaned, her voice muffled against him.

"Breakfast ends in about twenty minutes," Draco said, his fingers relaxing and splaying against the back of her head. She didn't flinch away.

"Can we stay here for five more minutes," she pleaded and he didn't think he could deny her anything. "Please."

"Of course."

"Thank you. For...this."

One of her hands palmed against his chest and he knew what she meant. He could tell through their bond how she was feeling. How hard it was for her to voice those feelings. He wondered if she was trying to push them through to him to get him to understand better.

His arms tightened around her, thrilling when she tucked her head underneath his chin.

"You're welcome."

Harry had never been held before.

That, she assumed, was why she had so willingly let Draco Malfoy cradle her in his arms like a child. That was why she acted as she had, clinging to him like she would be swallowed up by everything she was feeling if she let go.

That was all it was.

Nothing more.

Classes were over for the day, and Harry was thankful. She didn't have the attention span for them, though she attended every one. Mostly because Draco refused to skip with her, and she could not go very far without him still.

She noticed though, as she wandered in the library to get a book, that she was able to go a farther distance than before without her head throbbing.

Should this count as progress?

The fact that she didn't have a splitting headache told her that it should.

But the fact that it was because she was getting closer to Draco told her that it wasn't.

Except…

He didn't seem like Draco. At least, not the one she thought she knew. Not the one she had met at eleven years old that reminded her of her cousin throwing a tantrum.

That Draco wouldn't kneel down in soot to comfort her when her childhood home burned down. That Draco wouldn't hold her the whole night through when she needed comforting.

This was a different Draco than the one before.

That was…

That was Malfoy.

Malfoy was the one who had been spoiled and started childish fights with her. Malfoy was the one who taunted her until she exploded everything around her.

Draco was…

She curled her nose.

She was still figuring out who Draco was. Would he continue to surprise her, she wondered? Did she want him to?

"Harriet."

Harry's hand was hovering over a book when she turned to find Draco himself there, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers as he observed her, head tilted.

And that was when it hit her.

He was officially Draco to her now. Something had shifted inbetween the night when she woke up from that awful nightmare and now. They were not the same people that had met in the robe shop at eleven.

They were not even the same people who arrived at Hogwarts for the start of their eighth year term.

He was Draco and she was Harriet.

Harriet.

He was the only one who called her that.

He was the only one she wanted to call her that.

Her heart pounded.

"I got lost," she admitted. It wasn't the full truth, but it wasn't a lie. She was lost inside her own thoughts, but she didn't want to tell him that.

His lips twitched. He found her amusing, and not in the sort of way he would taunt.

"What are you looking for?"

"A book on human transfiguration for our essay."

"Well, you're not going to find it in the magical creatures section," Draco said. He took her by the hand, guiding her a few aisles down. She let him. "Here."

Harry blinked at the books. "I guess I'm a bit out of it."

"That's understandable. Considering…"

Draco trailed off, but Harry knew what he meant. Considering the mess she had found herself in the past few days. Considering everything.

It felt odd to go about her life as a normal student when she was bonded to who was once her rival, and there were random attacks happening on the outside that had seemingly picked her as a target. Though, at least this time she wasn't the single target. She was just the latest in a string of them.

Draco had also been singled out before the school term had even started.

She glanced at him, finding him still looking at her while leaning against a shelf.

"This one?" she asked, grabbing a random book.

Draco looked at it briefly, his eyes flickering over the title. "That'll probably work."

Harry took his word for it, not actually bothering to open the book up to see for herself, and pushed past him back towards the table they were working at.

Ron and Hermione were already there, having formed some sort of truce with Draco the night before apparently. There had been little fighting, aside from Ron's normal commentary that he didn't want to waste a perfectly good afternoon in the library.

Harry had been surprised when the suggestion of studying at the library had been brought up at dinner. As if it was something normal. As if they did this everyday. As if Draco was just another member of their table.

Her surprise had turned into suspicion when Ron had fallen into step beside Draco to walk towards the library instead of Hermione to speak to him in hushed tones. Harry could only make out bits of what they were saying, but none of it made sense. They hadn't been fighting, that was for sure.

If they had, Harry would know. Ron was never a suffer in silence type.

"I just don't get this," Ron was groaning as they approached the table, proving Harry's point. He was tapping his quill against the blank parchment of his essay, blotting it slightly.

"What don't you get?" Harry asked, taking a seat across from him. Draco slid into the chair next to her. He looked for all purposes amused.

Ron looked up from his unwritten essay to give Draco a quick glare when he felt his eyes on him. Draco opened his own book, allowing his eyes to slide towards the pages, though his smile didn't falter.

It wasn't unkind, so nothing was really said about it.

"I don't understand how I'm supposed to fill up five inches worth of facts on how the Cheering Charm is useful. It's not."

"That's not true," Draco countered before Hermione could. His eyes never left his book. "The Cheering Charm is extremely useful. It's being used in studies for depression, and what sort of effects it can have on manipulating the brain."

"I — I didn't know that," Hermione admitted.

"It's a recent study. Since the effects of the war, more people are experiencing depression." Draco swallowed, and Harry didn't miss the way he tugged on his sleeve where the Mark was. "Naturally. I have an article about it in my room, if you'd like to borrow it. It should count as creditable source material."

It took Ron a moment to realize that Draco was talking to him.

"Oh, um, that would be great," he said, the tips of his ears red. "Thanks."

"No problem."

They were silent after that for a while, each pretending to be doing their separate work. Harry kept letting her eyes wander towards Draco and his sleeve. He never wore it pushed up, she noticed. He never left the Mark exposed in any way.

She wondered if he was ashamed of it.

It was something they hadn't talked about, really, the fact that he was a former Death Eater. Harry wondered why this was. She had been so obsessed with finding out whether or not he had joined during her sixth year, and now she hardly thought about it at all.

She didn't think that was the case for Draco, though. Not the way he kept subconsciously touching his sleeve to make sure it was down. To make sure no one could see.

"Can I sit here?"

Harry looked up, startled to find Zabini standing over them, his expensive bag slung casually over his shoulder in a contrast.

Draco and Harry looked at each other at the same time, both seemingly asking if it was okay for him to sit with them.

Harry realized for the first time that Draco hadn't spent any time with his friends since they had bonded. He had been with her and her friends for the most part. She wondered if she was turning soft for feeling bad about the fact.

"Sure," Harry said, gesturing at the empty seat at the table. "It's fine."

Zabini smiled, kind and incredibly charming. Harry nearly felt herself blush.

Nearly.

"Thanks, Potter," he said. Harry nodded from behind her book, which was upside down. Unfortunately.

"Stop," Draco said. Harry didn't have to look up to know that he was glaring. She knew him so well, she would bet money on it.

Zabini blinked. "Stop what?"

"Stop trying to get your charm all over her," Draco said. "It doesn't wash off."

"Is there something wrong with me trying to charm my friends wi—"

Draco slammed his book shut, cutting Zabini off. But it didn't matter. Harry knew what he was about to say, and she knew Draco was trying to prevent her from getting furious over the word.

Only… the fury wasn't coming.

She couldn't feel it.

It was replaced by her heart pattering.

"Need anything, Zabini?" Ron asked in what Harry assumed was the most cordial voice he could muster.

"I just wanted to check on my friend. And Potter." Zabini turned towards Harry, and Harry didn't miss the way Draco's hand twitched. "I'm really sorry to hear about your aunt and uncle's house, Potter."

Harry looked at him, attempting to discern his intentions. There was nothing malicious in his tone, and his eyes were soft.

This was… odd.

But not entirely unwelcome.

"It's alright. At least no one was living there," she said, shrugging. Almost unaware of what she was doing, she shifted her chair slightly so that she was sitting closer to Draco.

She didn't protest when he draped an arm across the back of her chair.

She didn't even flinch when Ron dropped his quill, gawking at them.

She felt safe. She held her breath, attempting to capture the feeling and bottle it up.

"Still… such a shame," Zabini continued. He meant it, she could tell. Harry suspected she was just having a hard time handling another person prying into her personal life with the Dursleys. She didn't like talking about it.

Not even to Ron and Hermione.

Having someone else press at the topic made her on edge.

"These whole attacks have been odd," Hermione said, attempting to distract and direct Zabini into more comfortable conversation for Harry. She was always so good at picking up on Harry's signals.

It was easier to focus on the attacks as a whole, rather than the singular one that had burned her home to the ground.

"No one at the Ministry seems to know who's causing them either," Ron added. "Dad said Kingsley told him they were coming up empty."

"They seemed mostly unplanned at first," Zabini said, leaning on the back two legs of his chair. "But then they sort of got more focused just recently, it seems. They hit the manor first, didn't they?"

Draco nodded. "During the summer. Before term started."

"And now Harry," Hermione said, worrying her bottom lip. "It's like they're targeting both sides, so it's hard to tell who can be behind it."

"That almost makes them even more dangerous, doesn't it?" Harry wondered. "The fact that they don't have one sole target. The fact that they're going after anyone."

"It definitely makes it harder to determine a motive on their part," Draco agreed. His arm was still across the back of her chair. She fought the urge to lean into him. This was enough. This was towing the line, not crossing it.

Zabini nodded. "Which makes it hard to determine who is actually behind them. They're rouge."

"They're starting to get sloppy though," Ron said. "They've targeted Malfoy and now Harry, so surely there's some sort of pattern behind it that we haven't seen just yet. If they attack next, maybe it will start to make more sense."

He sounded hopeful, but not certain. Harry could hear the fine line in his voice where he was too afraid to cross.

She drummed her fingers across the table.

"Maybe."

Draco could tell Harriet was stalling.

That she was trying to not mention that she was tired, and needed to go to bed. He could see it in the way her eyes were drooping, yet darting towards the stairs where their shared bedroom was. He could feel the exhaustion seeping through her from their bond.

The day had worn her out, even if nothing particularly interesting had happened. It had worn him out too. Between being concerned over his wi — over Harriet, and Blaise deciding to drop by in the library, he himself was exhausted.

Blaise especially made his eye twitch, attempting to throw his stupidly charming smiles in Harriet's direction under the disguise of being Draco's friend.

He may be Draco's friend, — and quite possibly his only friend left from Slytherin, aside from Pansy — but that didn't mean that he didn't know what the other boy was up to. He liked Harriet. Not in the way that Draco himself did, but he enjoyed worming his way into her gaze. Making her blush. He enjoyed her enough to pay attention to her, which was saying something for Blaise.

He often didn't spare people outside of his own house a second glance.

And as good as that was, Draco couldn't help but be miffed at the way his friend tried to pry such personal information out of Harriet. He couldn't help but feel protective over her.

Blaise had noticed, and enjoyed that too.

Draco sighed and it turned into a yawn.

"Tired?" Harriet asked, her legs tucked underneath her.

"Thoroughly," Draco admitted. He paused for a moment. "Do you — are you okay to go to bed?"

Harriet bit her bottom lip, looking into the fireplace.

He could feel more than tell that she wanted to ask him something. That she was afraid to ask him.

"Do you — is it okay if I...if I…"

Oh.

He understood right away.

"Harriet."

"Yes?"

"Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?"

Draco could practically see the relief wash over her. She looked so grateful.

"Do you — is it okay?"

"Come on," Draco said, standing and offering her his hand. He smiled softly as she took it, feeling her magic vibrating around his fingertips. Humming at his touch. "Let's go to bed."