Chapter 5: Rulings and Reminding

Truth be told, as odd it was, Draco honestly didn't want to go back. Though the house was smaller than any room he was used to, though winter was especially freezing at night, he didn't want to go back. His best friend had finally broken free of his stoic trance, allowing Draco in. He had finally spoken to him, and it amazed Draco how one could a miss hearing a sound after a long period of time. Also he liked the coziness of the small house and the warmth Harry's body provided for him.

He felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

"Is it bad that I don't want us to leave?" he asked.

Harry shook his head that was lying on his chest. "No, not really. When Daddy and I finished building the house, I wanted to live up here forever."

A pang slit through Draco's heart, darkening the peaceful moment. He still trouble believing that Uncle James and Aunt Lily were gone. Actually gone.

The gap in his heart widened as he realized how selfish he was being. And stupid.

Here he was wishing that they could stay up in the tree house that was feet away from the house where Harry's parents were killed. Where he was nearly killed.

"You know what?" Draco said. "You and me will live in our own house. One that's just as big as the manor. It could even be up on a tree."

Harry looked up at him questioningly. "Really?"

"Of course," he scoffed. "A Malfoy never goes back on his word."

Harry's mouth quirked into a smile. However it disappeared as a familiar voice called their names. Draco looked out the window.

Severus was down below and waited patiently for them to join him on the ground. For once his scowl was absent from his face, but his presence was still intimidating.

"From where you stand at the moment, Draco," he told his godson. "It would amaze me if you ever see the light of day again by the time your father is done with you."

Draco winced inwardly. That was one meeting he wasn't looking forward to.

Severus' dark eyes glanced over at Harry, softening just a bit. "Though given current circumstances, I doubt he'll be too harsh with you."

He squeezed Harry's hand. He got no reply. Confused, he turned over to Harry, fearing the zombie had returned.

Harry's eyes thankfully were clear, but they weren't focused on him. They were focused on the house.

"Severus, before we leave can I get a few things from the house?"

Severus looked like he'd refused, but this was the first time in over a month Harry was speaking. Draco knew he was worried about the boy as much as he was. With a nod, he gave in but urged him to be quick.

Draco was determined to stay by his side despite the chills that ran up and down his spine when they entered through the back-way. The silence was heavy like a scream, draped over the house and every room like a cloak.

The chills didn't bother Harry as he walked up the stairs, already knowing what he'll need. Draco followed closely behind. His eyes glanced down at the steps more than once, his stomach churning.

"James was on top of the stairs. He was gutted like a pig, bathed in his own blood."

A bout of nausea shoot through his stomach. Draco clamped his mouth to keep it in.

"Draco," In an instant, his godfather was beside him, his hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Nausea churning, he sealed his lips and nodded his head. This wasn't about him. This was about Harry.

Harry went to his room. Draco nearly staggered back. Uncle Severus held back-a lot. Draco barely recognized the room. Every window was cracked and shattered, the door was thrown off its hinges and into the closet. Blood was splashed in drops and streaks. His eyes paid close attention to the puddle of cracked blood that was in the middle of the room.

"Lily was lying in the middle of the room, pale, motionless. Dead. And Harry was right beside her holding her hand, staring down at the body….completely covered in her blood."

The nausea was hard to swallow down this time but Draco found himself to do so.

Harry calmly moved his way over to his closet and nodded his head in thanks to Severus, who used his magic to move the door out of the way. He pulled some clothes off the hangers-shirts, jeans, a few robes-and stuffed them into a red duffle bag, along with framed family pictures he pulled from his shelves, some of his favorite books. For toys, overlooking the figures and models, he only picked two. His father's old toy-broom that he passed onto him, and Leo, a stuffed lion with soft fur and bright green eyes Aunt Lily customized to match Harry's. Harry had him since he was a baby.

He brought Leo against his chest and hugged him tight, almost as if he was hugging his mom again. His eyes were drawn to the dry blood on the floor, where he saw his mother die.

"Harry," he called out to him. "Are you okay?"

As soon as the question escaped his lips, he cursed himself for his stupidity.

Perhaps, though, it wasn't as stupid as he thought, because Harry answered. "No. I'm not. But I will be."

Smiling gently at him, Draco took his hand, relieved by the small smile and gentle squeeze he got in return.

Severus took his free hand, warned him to hold on, and took them back to the manor.

To his relief, Father wasn't as angry as he feared. He gotten off with a severe warning that he wouldn't be quite as forgiving next time. As for Mother, she scolded them both for making them worry, but given them pecks on the foreheads and warm hugs.

"Draco?" Harry asked after they were sent off to bed.

"Yes."

"Do you," Harry bit his lip. "Do you think we can go back to your room?"

It took everything Draco had to keep his lips to a smile instead of the bright grin those words caused. He couldn't help noticing how nice it felt to be back in his bed. Or how nice it felt to have Harry by his side, snuggled against him.

It was a slow progress but everyday in small ways and large his best friend was coming back to him. There were times when he'd fall into sudden silence, which sometimes lasted minutes, sometimes lasted longer. There were times when he'd leave the room to be alone with his thoughts. But he was talking again. He was answering questions, asking some of his own, and participating. Best of all, if those silent moments were too much for him, he'd seek Draco out, and he was more than happy to distract his friend from those dark moments or wade it out with him.

There was only one sour note to Harry's recovery: Dumbledore's visits have increased. Now that Harry was speaking again, the headmaster questioned him more about what happened that night, questioned him on his progress, and talked more about possible living arrangements. Though the last one was more so discussed with the adults than with Harry.

"We won't officially know anything till we go to the hearing," he said. "However I think the Dursleys would be a good match. They are the only family he has left."

"With all due respect, Headmaster," Lupin said. "Family doesn't only apply to blood."

Behind the closed door, where he and Harry listened in on the conversation, Draco nearly smiled. It seemed Lupin wasn't as annoying as he thought.

"Of course, of course. I agree with you, Remus. But their blood is what will help protect Harry. Plus, it could be worked into an advantage. No one would think that the Boy-Who-Lived is living in the muggle-world. He'll be perfectly safe."

"I very much doubt that." Father said.

"And why might that be?"

"In order for blood-wards to work there must be love and care from both sides. And given from what I've seen, there is no love lost between Harry and his family."

He imagined that Dumbledore turned to Remus who fell silent, then over to Severus, possibly expecting backup from his fellow co-worker.

"The relationship between Lily and her sister has been estranged. For years. Petunia grew up despising magic, and wanted nothing to do with her sister or her nephew. Believed it was an act against nature and those who are gifted abominations."

Father snorted, muttering a comment so low Draco couldn't hear it.

"And you, Remus?" Dumbledore asked. "You don't think Petunia would be willing to take in her nephew?"

"It would seem, Professor, that Snape and I are on the same page. I didn't know the Durselys well. But James had written to me, and in his letters whenever they were mentioned he made it clear that they were not close."

"I see."

"Gentlemen," Mother said. Draco imagined her taking a sip of her tea and setting the cup down on the saucer. He knew he guessed right when he heard the soft tink of china. "You mustn't forget that a will was done. It's a simple matter of waiting to find out."

"You're not going with those Muggles." Draco whispered to Harry later on that night.

Harry bit his lip; a sign that he was nervous. "Do you really think Dumbledore will make me live with them?"

They were close as they could be on the bed, but Draco still leaned in closer till they were chest to chest. "He can't do anything until we've gone to the hearing. And can't do anything unless they were picked." Which he doubted.

"I don't know who Mommy picked," Harry whispered. "She never really talked about it. I guess because we all thought if something happened to them, then I would go to…"

His father's first choice.

Sirius Black.

It had been a month since the truth of Black's involvement in the murder was revealed. Even though Harry was talking again, that was the one subject he refused to say a word about. Anytime Black was brought up, Harry would either fall into silence or leave the room altogether.

Draco had often remembered that Uncle James always said that there was no man he trusted more. He wondered what his uncle would say now if he knew the truth.

He ran his hand through Harry's hair. Harry closed his eyes. "I wasn't lying, you know."

"About what?" One green eye popped open.

"About you staying with us. Father will make sure of it. He can make it happen."

"What if Dumbledore finds a way around it?" Harry asked. "He is a powerful wizard."

Draco scoffed with an eye-roll. Harry frowned.

"Come on, Draco. Even you have to admit it."

He'd acknowledge it, but he would never say it out loud. Dumbledore may be strong in terms of magic, but no one was stronger in terms of connection and influence like Father.

"Then we can live in our house. In a place so far away, no one would find us. Where we can have all the fun we want. Like Peter Pan and the Lost Boys."

Harry's frown changed into a small smile. "I knew you'd like those Disney movies."

"Shut up, Potter." He murmured.

Despite his annoyance, he was glad to see the smile broadened.

According to Harry, Muggles typically go to special offices to get wills read. It wasn't that much different compared to how wizards handled their wills, other than the fact wills and other valuables were held at Gringotts. With its tight-wad goblins who were very strict when it came to identification, high security that ranged from magical signatures to dragon-guards, it was the best place.

They were escorted into a private room by one of the goblins who seemed to recognize Harry. "Mr. Potter."

"Hello Mr. Gar."

"It seems that your mother's sister will be quite please," he said, "Your mother set aside a small sum of money to help her and her family. For Remus Lupin, James leaves behind a few artifacts from the Potter family library he feels the man would very interested in," He turned over to the next page. "Being the sole heir to the deceased, you, Mr. Potter, are entitled to everything else your parents left behind." He listed out the property that were given to Harry, including both the house in Godric's Hollow and James' family home, the vast money and valuables in the family vault, his father's mother's library that carried books and magical artifacts.

All which were impressive and meant that Harry would never have to worry about money, but Draco was impatient for the creature to get onto the good part.

"Your parents set aside a large sum that should have you living comfortably until your sixteenth birthday, which is when you'll be able to have full access to your inheritance."

Yes, yes, yes. They already knew that.

"Until then, your financial needs as well as the essentials will be oversee by your guardian."

Finally, they were getting to the good part.

"As it is custom, in the event of passing, parents choose two adults to watch over and care for the child or children. Due to circumstance, James Potter' choice, Sirius Black, who has been named as the godfather, was denied."

Obviously.

"However he wasn't the only guardian. It seems Lily Potter chosen another, along with a side-note."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Narcissa Black-Malfoy," he announced. "It would seem that Mrs. Potter believed that you would be better-suited to care for her son, naming you as his godmother. The ministry seems to think so as well because they approved the request. From this moment on you are Harry James Potter's appointed guardian."

Yes!

Mother looked speechless, but in a good way, smiling. Father's face was cool, but his lip curled by the corner. Severus looked pleased.

The only one who was stunned-and not in the good way-was Dumbledore whose mouth nearly dropped.

Take that, old goat. A grin stretched across his face as he pulled Harry into a big hug. Thank you, Aunt Lily. Even from beyond the grave, she still looked out for them.

"Well," Dumbledore said after a shocking minute. "This is certainly surprising."

"I don't see why it should be, Professor," Father kept himself cool and indifferent, but Draco saw victory glinting in his eyes, a feeling he himself was basking in. "Lily Potter was a smart woman, one who obviously wanted the best for her son. I can assure you there is no better."

So ha. Draco threw a smirk in the old man's direction.

Dumbledore frowned. "It just seems odd to me."

The temperature in the room slowly decreased the higher Father's brow rose.

"And why may I ask would that be?"

"You've always been a smart student, Lucius, if not arrogant. I believe you know the answer."

The room was cold as winter's night as the two looked at each other, their eyes anything but warm. Or pleasant. For once the headmaster's eyes weren't sparkling, which Draco didn't know whether he should be happy about or worried.

"I believe, Professor, that it simply comes down to a matter of opinion." Father's tone was icy.

Uh-oh.

The boys looked at each other.

Should we…? Harry nodded towards the back door.

Not yet. Draco shook his head.

"Harry?" He looked over from Draco to the old man who called his name. "Do you wish to live at the manor? Would you feel comfortable there?"

The question might have been asked innocently, but it stung Draco all the same like an insult.

His parents were just as stunned. Just as offended. Mother's lips that seconds ago were smiling were drawn into a tight line. Ice completely frosted over Father's eyes.

"You're assuming, Professor," Severus said; the first words he had spoken since the hearing. "that Harry's life will be in jeopardy?"

His lips pursed. "Not in so many words."

Just enough, Draco scowled.

"Yet you believe his well-being will be handled perfectly by Muggles whom despise magic?"

The Headmaster didn't give a response to the comment, but repeated his question to Harry, bringing Lupin into the conversation. "He was close to both your parents. It's odd that he wasn't picked."

"Moony-I mean, Uncle Remus," Harry corrected himself. "Travels a lot, sir. And he has a condition."

Condition? The man seemed healthy, if not a bit hot-headed.

Dumbledore seemed to think the same thing, asking "What type of condition?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, sir. He said he'd tell me when I'm older. And said that whoever my parents decided was fine with him. He trusts their judgment."

Lupin rose himself slightly higher in Draco's favor.

"I see," Dumbledore mused, then turned to the goblin. "You mentioned that there was a side-note regarding the mother's choice. What was it?"

"Narcissa Black-Malfoy was chosen as the boy's godmother and guardian. However in the will Lily Potter requested that Severus Snape," the goblin looked over at the man. "also be part of his life. As joint-guardianship of some sorts with the Malfoys."

Draco didn't think the news could be any better, but it did.

"I see," Dumbledore turned over to the Potions master, who stared back at him, his facial expression unreadable, then over to the boys. "Would you boys mind stepping outside while we talk for a bit?"

"Why?" Draco snapped. Harry elbowed him in the arm.

He smiled. It was the type of smile he had seen adults used when they were dealing with a difficult child. The type of smile Draco hated. "Simply a chat. Boring adult stuff. Nothing that would interest you."

Draco very much doubted that. He would've refused, but when Father gestured toward the door he knew he had to obey.

As soon as the boys were out of the room, the door shut behind them, sealed with a lock and silence spell.

Arse, Draco thought.

As if his mind was read, Harry punched him in the arm. The force wasn't hard enough to leave him a bruise, but enough to bring him back to reality.

"You're spacing." Harry said.

"I was thinking," He rubbed his arm, which felt a bit tender. "And you didn't have to hit me that hard."

"I didn't."

"Tell that to my bruised arm."

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco smirked.

Soon enough the door was opened and Dumbledore stepped out, his eyes back to their unusual, unsettling twinkle.

"Good luck, my boy." he said to Harry.

"Thank you, sir." Harry nodded. Draco stayed quiet. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth and not say something insulting.

He nodded and took his leave. The boys entered inside the room. The adults' faces were expressionless, which meant the conversation could have gone in any direction. His mother's cool demeanor eased slightly as a small smile turned her face and her arms opened. They wasted no time running into them, hugging her as well as each other.

"Yes, yes, yes," Father said. As indifferent as he looked, Draco knew his father was pleased. "I'm glad that we were able to work things out. Harry?"

"Yes Uncle Lucius?"

"Now that you will be living with us, you will be expected to act accordingly. Though you'll still be a Potter, from this moment forward you shall act with the high standards and class of a Malfoy," Father placed his hand under his chin, studying the boy. "Perhaps you should be referred to as Potter-Malfoy."

Potter-Malfoy. Harry Potter-Malfoy. Draco definitely liked the sound of that.

Harry did too, judging by the big grin on his face. He looked like he would have hugged Father, too, but since Father wasn't the hugging type he settled with a smile and a nod. In return, he got a brief smile.


Harry's presence changed life at manor dramatically, making things interesting but better.

Father was pleased at having another mind to teach and mold into a pureblood gentleman. He was already taken in by the boy's intelligence, which showed during lessons. Sometimes, when the topic fell under the Muggle category, Harry would turn the lesson into a debate. Father recited the cold-truth information he knew from his own sightings and books. Harry argued with facts and experiences. Father was a man that was annoyed when his ideas were questioned, and although there were times he was peeved with his new pupil, he did seem to appreciate the effort the boy put into his research to back up his claims.

Mother was enthusiastic. She'd confessed to Draco once that she wished she had more children. Harry became that second child to her. She indulged him before with treats and made sure to pick up things for him when she was shopping for Draco, but now she officially, absolutely spoiled him. The first thing she did when they returned to the manor, after seeing how much Harry had brought from his house, was open her catalogs and call her favorite stores. Within an hour, hundreds of bags popped into the living room. She bought him all types of clothing from formal-wear, casual-wear, nightwear, Muggle clothing, along with toys and books.

She even set Harry up for etiquette classes. Harry was already familiar with the basics because of his father. His parents, though, felt he needed to learn more. Two times a week, after lessons with Father and Severus, he'd meet Mother in the library for her lessons. She taught him everything that was needed to know. How to dress, how to make small talk, how to play the piano, various languages such as French and Italian and Latin, posture and table manners.

He'd never forget the time Harry learned that lesson first-hand at one of Mother's favorite restaurants in Paris. When the food had been brought in, Harry eagerly dove into his dish.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry's mouth was already filled with roasted duck so the answer had to wait a few moments as he swallowed down the food and wiped his face with a napkin. "Um, eating, Aunt Cissa."

Draco would've offered aid to his friend if he didn't find this situation amusing, feeling giggles trickling his throat.

"Sit up straight." Father ordered. Harry immediately complied, fixing his posture.

Draco sealed his lips in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

"I can see that, dear," Mother said. "However would you mind explaining to me why you're using your salad fork to eat your duck?"

"Um," Harry glanced down at his plate, seeing the multiple silverware placed at either side, then over to the small fork held in his hand. "Does it matter?"

Mother looked scandalized. Draco could feel his throat rumbling from laughter that was building inside him.

"Perhaps not in the muggle-world," Father said. "But in the wizarding world, especially for purebloods, it most certainly does."

Draco couldn't hold it any more. The laughter burst out of him in a giggling explosion, nearly knocking him off from his seat. It didn't stop even when his ankle throbbed in pain from the kick Harry delivered underneath the table.

Uncle Severus certainly came to the manor more often. Sometimes for lessons, such as teaching them more on Potions or demonstrating defensive spells against dark magic. Sometimes for pleasantries. Uncle was a private man who rarely voiced his thoughts, unless they were insults, but Draco knew that he wasn't the only child his uncle had a soft spot for. Severus had always liked Harry, but after Halloween the two had grown closer. Besides Draco, he was the first person Harry talked to after he broken free of his mourning, zombie trance. Severus took his responsibilities as co-guardian seriously, making sure the boy was well-cared for, calling almost every night to check on his progress, handling all medical checkups as he done with Draco. They had lengthy discussions about the books they've read, flowers and herbs that interested them, and few times about Lily.

As for himself, life couldn't be any better for Draco. His best friend now lived with them, was now part of the family, and he could see Harry anytime he wanted. They had lessons together, though sometimes there were sessions meant for one that the other couldn't attend. After lessons, they'd disappear into the backyard or the Quidditch field where they'd be gone for hours. They even slept in the same bed together. The first night living together Draco slept in his room while Harry slept in the room Mother set up for him that was next door. Even though there was a door that connected the two, the distance felt odd. Within minutes, Harry came into the room and Draco welcomed him into his bed. Since then his room had became their room.

Of course, it wasn't always good times. Every now and then darkness crept in.

Like Christmas morning when they were nine. It started off on a good note. They woken up at the crack of dawn, then rushed over to the parents' room where they awakened the couple with loud Christmas cheer and bed-bouncing. Breakfast was a feast of large stacks of pancakes, fresh-baked croissants, and a buffet of differently-toppled French toast. The tree was stuffed with so many presents underneath its skirts; it looked like it was standing in a middle of a gift-sea.

Each gift was more wonderful than the last, but none could top Father's. He had gotten them both the latest brooms from the Quidditch shop, said to be top of the line and fast. Draco wasn't sure whose beam was bigger: his or Harry's.

"Thank you, Father."

"Thank you, Uncle Lucius."

"Think nothing of it, boys."

"We're so testing these out." Draco grinned at Harry.

"Definitely."

Things were well, until Dobby came into the room with a mysterious package wrapped in brown paper instead of red or green, tied with sting, with a blue envelope attached to the front that had Harry's name written across it.

"Who sent the package?" Mother questioned.

"Dobby does not know, Mistress Narcissa."

"You didn't see the person?"

"There was no person. Only an owl-gray and black," Dobby answered. "Dobby saw it flying around the house from the window. Then when Dobby opened the door, the owl dropped the package in Dobby's hands and vanished. All Dobby knows is that it was meant for Master Harry. It says so right here." He pointed to the envelope.

Uncle Severus rose from his seat and took out his wand, instructing the house-elf to place in on the ground. He cast several spells on it to see if there were any hexes attached to it. Nothing came up. Dobby took that as permission to push the gift over to Harry.

He opened the package before the envelope, pulling out a small stuffed animal stuff that fitted the palm of his hand. It was a black dog with doe eyes that went from plushy to real when Harry touched his head, his tongue wagging eagerly from its open mouth.

As cute as it was, there was something odd about it. Something vaguely familiar, though Draco couldn't put his finger on it.

Harry petted the dog before he set it down. The animal pressed close against him as he turned his attention to the envelope, slowly breaking the seal and pulling out a letter that looked like it had been folded over a dozen times, with dark ceases of yellow by the corner.

It took Harry a minute to read the letter. It only took him ten seconds to climb up the stairs afterward, crumbling it into a ball he tossed aside.

"Harry!" Draco called out.

"Would someone be kind to tell me what just happened?" Severus asked.

"Do you think Lupin sent it?"

Draco doubted that. Firstly because the man had already sent his presents to his "pup" days ago. Secondly, given the description Dobby gave of the owl, he knew it wasn't Lupin's.

He snatched the letter and smoothed it out.

Kiddo, it began.

Immediately red flags were drawn in his head.

There are three possibilities as to what's being done with this letter:

1. The ministry grabbed hold of it and are using it to track me down.

2. Your guardian realized who the sender was and got rid of it before you could see it.

3. It's now being held in your hands

For case three, I see two scenarios. Scenario one: before you even open the gift or the envelope, you're already feeding it to the fireplace. If that's the case then that must mean that it's not being handled or read by anyone, and the poor little guy barely had a chance. But I do understand why that might be the case. Then there's also scenario two: as shocked and angry as you may be (which is completely understandable), curiousity kicks in long enough for you to stop and read what I have to say.

First thought that must to come to your mind: why? Why now? After two years? I wish I can give you the whole story (and believe me, I plan to in the future) but there's only so much paper and so little time.

First off I wrote to you because I missed my kiddo too much. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you or wish that things could be different so I can see you. No doubt you've grown into the tallest short person the world has ever seen. I wish I was there to see it.

I know how bad things look at the moment. And how extremely bad they look considering the fact I ran. But you have to believe me when I say I have reasons-good reasons. Also believe me when I say that I love you and your parents. Your dad was like a brother to me in every way except in blood. Your mother showed me more kindness in the first three years I've known her than all the years my family has in my entire life. And I loved you like a son. I know things look bad, but you have to remember that. And know this.

I would never ever hurt you or them like that. Ever. I'd slit my wrists first.

His name is Scruffy by the way in case you were wondering or were thinking about keeping him. When I saw him, it took me back to the time you were two and saw my animagus form for the first time. Lily was worried that it would scare you. But even then you were a brave little lion. You grinned, clapped, and nicknamed me Scruffy. I hope you like him as much you did with me back then.

Sirius.

Black became a ghost the night he disappeared from Grimmauld Place. Aurors have been tracking him down for two years now, chasing after possible sightings and leads, coming back empty-handed. Even though he was a wanted fugitive with a high price-tag attached to his head, Aurors had no luck finding him. As infuriating as it was, Draco wasn't surprised. Before he was a traitor, the man was a gypsy who spent years wandering and exploring the world. He knew all the right places to hide. The Aurors were no match for that. Each time they came close, Black slipped through their fingers, relocating to a new hiding spot. The last time someone claimed to have seen him, it was six months ago in Turkey. By the time Aurors arrived, securing the area where they believed he was in, he was long gone.

Harry at this point banished the man from his mind, pretending that he didn't know the name or had a godfather.

Apparently Black decided to remind him.

Bastard.

While Father went ahead to report to the Ministry, Draco rushed upstairs. His nerves were wired when he came into his room and saw Harry lying in the middle of the bed, clutching onto Leo, lying still. It took Draco back to the first few weeks of mourning when Harry was trapped in his shell, haunted and quiet, his eyes empty and dead.

Heart-pounding, Draco crawled into the bed and pulled the blanket over their heads, shutting the morning light and the rest of the world out. He drew Harry close to him, wrapping his arms around him. It was a long, slow minute that dragged on like an hour before he felt a response to his touch; Harry turned over to him and leaned in closer till the lion was squashed in between them.

"He was their friend." Harry's eyes were glazed over, but they weren't haunted. Only lost in thought.

Draco nodded.

"He was their friend and he betrayed them." He was trembling now, his voice cracking.

"I know."

"I hate him," The words were spoken so softly but was packed with anger that was fuming and explosive. Tears of anger and sadness pooled his eyes, but Harry refused to let them fall. "I hate him so much."

He bit his lip so much that Draco could see drips of blood leaking. He was trembling so badly, his side of the bed was shaking.

"Harry."

He shook his head. That didn't from Draco from reaching out, placing his hand against his cheek and using his thumb to brush against the soft skin.

"Don't shut me out," he begged. Harry shook his head, his lips trembling. "Please."

Harry tried pulling away from him, tried drawing back. But Draco was having none of that, moving closer, tightening his hold. "Don't."

Harry finally surrendered, falling onto Draco's chest, letting all the bottled-up thoughts and feelings out through loud, heart-breaking weeping. Draco did what he usually does during dark times: held him tight and wade through it, refusing for him to let him go through the darkness alone.