A/N: It's been a little longer than I intended, so to make up for that, here's the longest chapter since chapter 8! And lotsa feelings and other sappy stuff.

Harry's first conscious thought was the realisation that his back hurt.

Quite a lot, actually.

His eyes weren't very cooperative, but they eventually opened—and immediately squeezed shut again, blinded by way more light than should be allowed to exist in one place. After a few more attempts, Harry was able to make out windows, a high ceiling, and rows of empty beds.

And a voice.

'…and then Seamus almost broke Ernie's nose until Professor Flitwick came back and separated them. We all got the rest of the day off to study in the dorms, but I thought I could study here. I hope you don't mind.'

Rustling from a bag being opened. The sound of books being placed by his bedside table. A big mop of brown hair.

'Hermione?', Harry asked.

Or at least, that was what he wanted to say. What came out was a croaked 'nhgheongne?'

The books clattered to the ground as Hermione gasped and spun around. One loud 'Harry!' later, Harry found himself buried under an armful of Hermione.

'You're awake! How are you? Does it hurt? How many fingers am I holding up?' She fired off questions faster than hexes, but before he could convince his tongue to cooperate and answer, something seemed to occur to her.

'I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey. Just stay here, okay?'

And gone she was. As though Harry was in any state to leave, anyway. Had he always had this pounding headache? He resigned himself to staring at the ceiling and felt sleep overcome him again. By the time Hermione returned with the nurse, Harry was out cold once again.

The next time he opened his eyes, the world was a little less blurry. He could make out the face of Madam Pomfrey, skeptically eyeing his condition, before she stepped aside to reveal Professor McGonagall, standing at the far end of Harry's bed.

'He's awake, Professor. But be careful with him.'

'Thank you, Poppy. I will. If you could leave us alone?'

The nurse left and McGonagall stepped closer and looked at Harry.

'How are you feeling, Mr Potter?'

Harry pondered the question. Most of his body hurt, and his chest felt like a centaur had danced on it. His arms and legs seemed to be filled with pudding that was on fire, and he was pretty sure if he tried to stand up now, he wouldn't be able to.

'Been better, Professor.'

She nodded. 'As expected. We're not sure what exactly you were hit with, but we're all very relieved to have you back with us.'

We're not sure what exactly you were hit with. 'Didn't Ron…'

McGonagall shook her head. 'Mr Weasley refused to disclose the nature of his curse to anyone but Madam Pomfrey. She has been treating you, of course, but I'm afraid the healer's oath applies. She is sworn to silence.'

She grimaced. 'Patient–healer confidentiality, Mr Potter. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept. But now that you're awake, once you consent, Poppy will be able to shed some light on this case.'

She looked at him, clearly expecting his permission to run off and ask Mrs Pomfrey what Ron had done to him.

'What will happen to Ron?', he asked instead. Professor McGonagall's expression fell.

'Mr Weasley is currently awaiting disciplinary action. The case has been forwarded to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.' She sighed. 'Needless to say, none of us thought this would ever happen, but it's out of my hands now.'

'I see', Harry said hoarsely.

Reconciling the Ron he knew—he thought he knew—with the one he had met in the dungeons was difficult, to say the least. Yet the more he thought about it, the more Harry wondered how he had never picked up on the signs. Ron's hatred of Malfoys ran deep and he hadn't hidden it whenever the subject of Draco had come up between them. But to think that Ron would go this far?

'Mr Potter?' He had zoned out, Harry realised. Professor McGonagall was still standing by his bed, awaiting his answer.

One word from him and the details would come to light. Madam Pomfrey would testify and the medical details of Ron's… well, assault, for lack of a better word, would go to the Ministry. Magical Law Enforcement were a tough bunch, that much Harry knew. There would be investigations, questions, and ultimately, charges and a trial for Ron. Consequences, maybe even prison time. Was that really what he wanted?

No, Harry decided, it was not.

The professor read the answer in his face before he even voiced it. It didn't take a legilimens to see the struggle Harry grappled with. When she spoke again, her voice was softer.

'Harry', his first name sounded foreign coming from her, 'I understand he is your friend. But you cannot expect a crime like this to go unnoticed in this school. The bludgers are out of the box, whether you and I want them to be or not. Ronald Weasley is responsible for his own actions, you cannot protect him from himself.'

'I'm sorry, Professor', Harry croaked. 'I have to try.'

'I feared as much. If you change your mind, let me or Madam Pomfrey know.'

With that, she left, and Harry sank back into his pillows, the thought of Ron weighing heavy on his mind. And although Hermione came to visit him after dinner, tearfully hugged him, and tried to distract him by catching him up on the classes he had missed during the two weeks—two weeks!— that he had been unconscious, she couldn't take his mind off the matter.

On the third day, Draco came to visit him.

Just earlier that day, Harry had been allowed to leave the bed. Carefully, Madam Pomfrey had instructed, and he was to return to bed at the slightest sign of pain or fatigue. But restless as he was, the bed couldn't hold him for long, and so it was pacing up and down the room that the nurse found him when she announced a visitor.

'Mr Malfoy would like to see you', she declared, not without giving him her most disapproving glare for overexerting himself like that. 'I can send him away, if you would prefer bed rest.'

As subtle as a mountain troll, Harry thought.

'It's fine, ma'am. I think I'll manage.'

She disappeared while Harry sat down on his bed, and moments later, Draco slid into Harry's little cubicle.

'Harry.'

'Draco.'

For a while, neither of them seemed to know what to say. Eventually, Draco coughed.

'I'm glad you're', he searched for words that weren't okay, 'mostly unharmed.'

He glanced at Harry's bandaged chest at the same time as Harry looked at Draco's chest, where the curse would have hit him.

'How, uhm… how are you?'

Harry shrugged. 'Alive and in one piece. It hurts all over, but Madam Pomfrey tells me I'll recover.'

'Ah.' Draco paused. 'Do you know what kind of—'

'I didn't ask', Harry cut him off. And he hadn't. Knowing what spell it had been wouldn't have made things any better, and he had decided he'd rather not know. 'Nasty. That's all I know.'

They sat in silence for a moment.

'Thank you', Draco eventually muttered.

Just thank you. He didn't say you didn't have to, or you shouldn't have, and Harry was glad for it. Instead of an answer, he nodded. Something inside him itched to lean over and hug Draco, tell him of course, how could he not have? But Draco would probably take issue with that.

'I told McGonagall', Draco added unexpectedly. 'Everything, not just Weasley. Who and what they did.'

Now that was news to Harry. Draco shrugged off his bewildered stare and looked away, blushing a little.

'It was the least I could do to honour your little stunt. I didn't want that to be for nothing.'

An unspoken I didn't want you to die in vain hung in the air between them. Harry could only imagine what everyone had thought when he hadn't woken up for two weeks. Throwing himself in the way of a curse wasn't how Harry had imagined that night playing out, but if it had at least achieved something…

'It's over.' Draco added. 'Goyle and Thorley and all the others, they're gone. Expelled.'

Harry gaped at him. The old Draco had run to the teachers (or his father) at every chance, but for this new Draco, involving the headmistress was a huge step. Draco avoided his eyes, as if he had guessed Harry's thoughts.

'All except Nott.', he clarified. 'The bastard smelled it coming and ratted out the others to save his neck. They examined their wands for proof, but he never did anything himself, so he was off the hook.'

'McGonagall summoned the prefects after that', he continued. 'I've never seen her so upset. I don't know what she said to them, but… well, nobody from the other houses has bothered me since.'

'Bothered' is a funny way to say 'bullied', Harry thought. But the thought was quickly replaced with relief. He would have preferred to get there without excruciating pain, but at least Draco was safe now. Well, somewhat safe. Again, he felt the irritating urge to hug the other boy. Where was that coming from? They had hugged once, surely there was no need to get all touchy-feely now. He pushed the thought aside.

'I'm glad', he said instead.

'Me too.'

More silence.

'It's good to have you back', Draco filled the silence. 'When you fell…' He shuddered. 'Salazar, I've never been that scared before.'

Not an admission Harry had ever expected to hear, and he didn't know whether to feel guilty for worrying Draco, or pleasantly surprised about how much Draco cared.

'I'm surprised you didn't kill him on the spot', he said without thinking—and cursed himself for it right after. Bad idea. But Draco didn't notice how badly Harry wanted to swallow the words he had just said.

'Oh, I was tempted', he replied hoarsely, and more earnestly than Harry would have liked. 'I would have. I thought he'd killed you.' He scoffed. 'Merlin, I think Weasley thought he'd killed you.'

'What changed your mind?'

Draco shrugged. 'Someone happened upon us. The Bloody Baron, I think. Next thing I knew, the corridor was full of teachers and whatnot. Hell, at first they thought I'd done it.'

And if both Weasley and him had screamed in shock, loud enough to be heard all the way to Hogsmeade, then he decided not to mention it. For his dignity's sake, not Weasley's.

He thought I was dead. The thought refused to leave Harry's head. What had built up during their conversation boiled over at last, and bruised ribs be damned, Harry couldn't help but lean forward and pull Draco into what had to be the most awkward hug in Hogwarts history.

The Slytherin froze and Harry was sure he was going to push him away. Maybe announce his distaste and storm out. Leave Harry to ponder his mistake for the rest of the day.

Draco did no such thing.

Instead, after a moment, he slowly relaxed and put his arms around Harry as well. His face ended up somewhere on Harry's shoulder, and for a long time, they both just held onto each other.

'Don't do anything like that ever again', Draco eventually choked out, and it was clear he didn't mean the hug. When he disentangled himself from Harry, his eyes were suspiciously wet. 'If you ever die on me, I'm going to kill you, Potter.'

Harry's eyes were stinging as well. There was a lump in his throat and he unceremoniously wiped his nose with the hospital gown and nodded. 'No dying. Promise.'

Draco actually smiled at that. And if hearing Draco's guilt had made Harry's heart sink, seeing him smile was like having a huge load lifted off his chest. It was almost contagious, and he could have sworn he felt a smile trying to force its way to his lips as well. No, scratch that, he was beaming like a Lumos spell.

'I should get going', Draco coughed once they had both sobered up. 'I still have to write two and a half feet for Slughorn and three for Jones.'

He briefly put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry relished the touch.

'I trust I'll be seeing you in class soon.'

'See you, Draco.'

Hermione Granger was near impossible to catch alone, Draco learned. Over the course of the week, he had considered approaching her countless times, only to decide against it each time. Too many people, wrong time, bad situation.

Too scared. That was it, really. He was scared.

But this time, he was going to. About halfway through Professor Slughorn's lecture (how can one man be so dull? he thought to himself), he had made up his mind. Just do it. Which was why after class, he had hurried to pack his bag, and rushed to the front to follow her as the students filed out of the room. Luck seemed to be on his side, as she split from the rest of the class, clearly not headed to lunch like the others.

'Granger!' Draco called out. When she turned to him, surprised, he struggled for a neutral tone of voice as he asked, 'do you have a minute?'

He was already dreading what would happen now. To say that apologies weren't his strong suit was to put it mildly. Oh, he had given his fair share of apologies, plenty, but those had been gestures of deference, of submission to a higher authority, or to somebody more influential than him. Appeals to people who liked to be appeased. Relatives, friends of his father, and of course, he suppressed a shudder at the memory, Death Eaters. As far as the arts of manipulation and sweet-talking were concerned, Lucius Malfoy had taught his son well. But real, actual apologies, complete with sincere regret and a hope to make amends? Come to think of it, the only one he could remember had been in sixth grade when Pansy and him—best not to dwell on that, actually.

'Malfoy?' Granger's voice interrupted his thoughts and he felt angry at himself as he realised that he had briefly spaced out. 'What is it?'

'Walk with me', he replied, surprised at how confident he sounded. 'Somewhere a little more private than this', he gestured at the corridor.

'I'd really rather not', she refused, and he realised how absurd this had to sound to her. Take a walk with Draco Malfoy. Right. If it had been Harry, of course… sometimes he forgot that there were people who weren't Harry.

'I'm not trying to harm you', he promised. 'And if I did, I'm sure I'd find myself in Azkaban faster than you can say Slytherin.'

He paused. 'Please?'

A passing student curiously glanced at them.

Granger sighed, but after what appeared to be some internal debate, briskly marched ahead, leaving Draco no other choice but to fall in step behind her. She led him around a corner and stopped in front of an empty room, wand- and wordlessly unlocking it, before leading him inside. Her magical abilities had always far outmatched his, and it wasn't without a little regret that he thought of the sheer waste it had been to antagonise her instead of trying to benefit from the sort of tutelage Harry and W—his friend had obviously enjoyed.

'Alright, out with it, Malfoy. What's this about?'

Draco took a deep breath, hoping to gather his thoughts and some composure, before replying.

'Granger, I—', the words were refusing to come out, 'I believe…', calm down, he told himself, more than slightly embarrassed at his stammering unbecoming of a Malfoy.

Oh well. Here goes.

'I believe I owe you an apology.'

If she had been annoyed just a moment ago, now surprise, mixed with confusion, was written all over her face, and he quickly forced himself to carry on before she could interrupt him.

'I would be hopelessly understating if I said that I haven't treated you entirely fair', dear Merlin, when had he started to sound like he had swallowed a grammar textbook?

'Actually, forget that, I've been', he took another deep breath, at this point just powering through hoping to get it over with, 'I've been cruel, violent, and a bloody arse in general, I suppose.'

Draco hoped that the shame—both about his actions as well about this humiliating apology—wasn't as evident on his face as it felt. Oh, certainly, every word he had said had been true, but actually hearing it out loud from his own mouth was a whole other thing.

'Yeah. You've been. Is that what you wanted to say?'

'I'm not done', he rushed to say and almost stumbled over his own words.

'I don't presume a simple apology will', he coughed, 'change your view of me, but I'm hoping you'll believe me when I say that I do regret', again, the words seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat, 'that I… that I regret what I've done to you.'

There. It was out. What he had done to her.

Something akin to sadness crossed Granger's face, disappearing almost immediately to give way to scrutiny.

'You're doing this for Harry, aren't you?'

'Yes.'

She grimaced. 'I appreciate the gesture, but I'd really prefer it if you—'

'I do mean it, Granger', Draco impatiently cut her off. 'Yes, Potter just had to go and be noble for me, and yes, I suppose that means I owe him, although in his irrational crusade for goodness of his he will no doubt insist that I do not, and since he seems determined to not let go of me any time soon, I could do worse than get along with his friends', he had to stop for a breath because he had run out of air, 'but I wouldn't have said this if I didn't mean it.'

She sceptically raised her eyebrow. 'You do?'

Exhausted, he pull over one of the empty chairs and flopped down on it. 'I've just said that.'

She shrugged, and to his surprise, pulled up a chair as well. 'Alright. Tell me about it.'

Confused, Draco frowned. 'Tell you about what? What changed my mind? What do you want to hear?'

'That would be a good start, yes.'

His expression hardened and he pushed unwanted memories aside. 'I fought a war, Granger. I've seen your people bleed and their blood didn't look any dirtier than my own.'

He briefly thought of the happenings at Malfoy Manor, and judging by her face, she had, too. Both of them fell silent for a moment, each processing events of the past, before Draco swallowed and spoke again.

'Dumbledore's death', he said hoarsely. 'That was when I realised I wanted out.'

Of course, by then, it had been too late to get out. By the time he had returned to Hogwarts for his Seventh Year, Rufus Scrimgeour had been dead, and defecting to the Order had seemed like a guarantee for a slow and unpleasant death. Everyone around him had been drunk on triumph, and what few people he had known with second thoughts, none believed it possible that Potter and his ragtag band of mudbloods and creatures could possibly defeat them. So on he had soldiered, played along, pretended to share in their enthusiasm.

'You could have tried', Granger offered, and he wasn't sure whether her words were meant as accusation or pity.

'If I had shown up on your doorstep then and pleaded asylum, would you have believed me?', he sarcastically asked. They both knew the answer.

'I believed it, you know', he continued. Now that the dam was broken, the words flowed out of him easily. 'The whole thing. Pure blood. Magic rule. No—no mudbloods. No blood traitors. I believed it all.'

'Your father indoctrinated you', she countered.

Granger making excuses for him, the irony wasn't lost on Draco. But she shook his head.

'Don't excuse me. I could have known better, I didn't want to. I knew what I was doing and I did it on purpose. I knew people were going to be stepped on and I wanted to be the one wearing the boot. Maybe I thought the others were being a little too cruel, like my aunt, but I believed in our cause.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'A Malfoy calling someone cruel? You have to admit that's not very convincing.'

'I know.'

He searched for words, struggled to gather his thoughts.

'We had won', he eventually said. 'Things were supposed to be good. But they weren't. My father had disappointed the Dark Lord, as had I, and now we were fair game, just like muggles. And even those who were fortunate enough to have his favour, they feared him too. That year… it was the worst of my life. I'd never felt so helpless as I did then.

'At first, I thought it would pass. We would weed out the—the blood traitors from Hogwarts and then there would be no need for all the shackles and crucios and everything else. I had to pretend like I was enjoying it, but on the inside, it was sickening.'

Granger didn't try to interrupt him, only regarded him with what was most definitely pity, and for maybe the first time in his life, Draco was grateful for her company.

'I've felt it myself', he added. 'Crucio. More than once, when the Dark Lord and his entourage were our guests. After that, I couldn't… I couldn't do it anymore. Or watch it. But I couldn't let them suspect me. So I had to. I tried to convince myself that this was what I wanted, to make myself believe I was happy, but it didn't work.

'And then Potter came back and… I thought this was my chance to end it. If he were dead, the Dark Lord would finally be satisfied. The war would be over and we would get the good life we had been promised. I would regain his favour and graduate.'

He tried to ignore unwanted memories of that night.

'Vincent paid for my hubris.'

The fire still occasionally haunted his nightmares. He pushed the thought away.

'You would have too if it hadn't been for Harry', Granger reminded him. 'Is that what this is all about? He saved your life and now you feel like you owe him?'

'No. I mean, I owe him, but that's not what this is. It's more like… at first, I saw a chance. Graduate, disappear for a while, wait for the dust to settle. I didn't have some grand revelation or anything, I just wanted nothing to do with it all anymore. Oh, I still thought restoring pureblood rule was desirable, but mostly I just wanted to not be involved in anything of the sort for now. Given ten years, I would have cleared the Malfoy name, and… well, perhaps tried again.'

Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned that, if the expression on Granger's face was any indication. Great move, Draco.

'Pott—Harry was a nuisance. At first. Then, I… tolerated him, I suppose. By Salazar, I don't know why, but he just decided to hang on to me. I saw an opportunity, a mutually beneficial arrangement. I could tutor his weakest subject, he mine. And if associating with him would benefit my reputation, I wasn't opposed to that either. So I watched myself around him, kept my tongue in check. It became a habit, if only to avoid alienating a potential ally.

'He's very likable. I don't know how he does it. I can't tell you when, but I took a liking to him. I stopped censoring myself for strategy and started to do it out of consideration. And as I unlearned to… well, to think of you as a', he cringed at the word, 'as a mudblood, for example, I started to see clearer. I stopped seing the enemy and started seeing the person.'

'You want me to believe that trying to not be an arse around Harry changed you?' Granger looked and sounded incredulous. 'You're gonna have to excuse if I doubt that.'

Draco fought down his irritation—old habits, he supposed, being denied had never sat well with him—and nodded instead. 'I understand that. I've hurt you more than anyone; I didn't expect you to embrace me with open arms.'

He had hoped for it, but saying so would probably not go over well.

'"Hurt"? That's putting it mildly. You've done your best to make my life hell, and you damn near succeeded at times.' She looked conflicted. 'I can't deny that you've been surprisingly bearable lately, and I'm inclined to believe you. Harry does. But even if you're sincere… it's going to take some time to get over the last seven years. This isn't a scratch you can just charm away.'

'I understand', Draco repeated.

Assuming their conversation was over, he waited for her to send him off, but when she spoke again, something still seemed to bother her.

'Just… there's one thing I don't understand. I've been think—I mean, I have an idea, but… I need to know.'

She took a deep breath.

'Why me? Why always me? Just because I was Harry's friend, or…?'

Ah. The question he had been dreading.

'No', he cautiously responded. 'Your proximity to him made you and Weasley a prime target, but… that's not why.

'Envy', the word almost got stuck in his throat. 'I was… you were…'

'Better than you', Granger bitterly finished his sentence.

'Yes', he confessed. 'You were—are—incredibly gifted. Other than in Potions, I could never hope to compete.' His face was burning. 'I couldn't accept that. To be beaten by a m—you know what I mean. It offended everything I believed in. I should have been angry at myself, or my father and his teachings, but… well, he took his disappointment out on me, and I took mine out on you.'

She nodded and not-so-subtly wiped a tear away. 'I… I needed to hear that.'

She straightened herself. 'I can't say that I forgive you, but… I appreciate that you—I appreciate your apology.' The words hung between them for a while before she coughed. 'I was going to visit Harry over lunch, you could… come along?'

She seemed unsure about her own offer, and Draco shook his head.

'I wouldn't want to intrude. Give Harry my best.'

'Will do.' She regarded him strangely. 'You've been good for him, so far. Keep doing that.'

With those cryptic words, she left him standing alone in an empty classroom. And what in Merlin's name was that for?

A/N: I didn't mean for that apology to be over 2,000 words long, but sometimes your characters just run away with your plot and you have to do what they say. Anyway, we're finally getting to Draco's redemption! It's only taken almost 60k words to get there.