It had to have been past midnight when Draco awoke. He scowled at Madame Pomfrey for casting a cheap sleeping spell on him, but struggled to sit up in his covers anyway. He was still sore from his earlier beating, but things could have been a lot worse.

Nix that, things were a lot worse. Draco turned to see Potter staring at him with hate from the bed beside his.

For some reason, fear struck his heart. The look in Potter's eyes was disturbing, almost insane. Perhaps if he didn't make any sudden movements he'd be safe. He sat silently, staring back at Potter. Suddenly, the other leapt from his bed and in a flash of movement almost too quick to see, pinned Draco on his back with a wand to his throat. The Slytherin closed his eyes and put his hands palm up beside his head to show he wasn't going to fight back. Potter had finally snapped, and now he was going to run rampaging through the school, and he was going to be the first to die.

The wand tip sparked painfully against his Adam's apple, and then, to his surprise, the hand at his throat loosed its grip. There was the shifting of fabric as Potter sat back, taking the wand away and resting his weight fully on Draco's abdomen. Draco opened his eyes, quite shocked to find he was still alive, and looked questioningly at Potter.

"No."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. He hadn't said anything. Now Potter was answering the voices in his head. Definitely snapped.

Potter tensed, and in a violent motion flung his wand across the room, "No!" Draco could hear it skitter across the floor, and come to rest against one of the far walls of the Infirmary. He stared at Potter in amazement as a tiny drip of water shook itself loose down his cheek from his eye. "This is stupid," the boy finally spat, "You're stupid, I'm stupid. This whole damn situation is stupid. We shouldn't be fighting each other when Voldemort is out there."

Unconsciously, Draco flinched at the name. Potter obviously felt it, and narrowed his eyes at the blonde. Draco quickly covered, "Well, why don't you scurry off then, and defeat the evil in the world so that I can get some sleep."

Potter growled, "You're a bastard."

"And this concerns me... why?"

The Boy Who Lived clambered off Draco's bed and slid into his own, turning his back to the Slytherin and drawing the covers up over his head. For some reason, Draco was slightly disconcerted. He had to admit, hitting at the diamonds now seemed rather tactless, even for him. Now that he knew what they were, he'd probably poke some other button of Weasel's. But that didn't make him sorry for it, did it? He let out a disgusted snort as he wondered, was he becoming sentimental? Merlin, what would his father say!?

He shook his silver hair absently and reclined in the bed. Hopefully tomorrow would bring about something helpful, instead of all this puttering about mindlessly.

......

The next morning was absolute torture. Madame Pomfrey refused to move either of them to different beds, claiming to have a full Infirmary. She would not allow either of the boys to return to their dorms, and remained obstinately negative on the grounds of allowing visitors for Harry.

This meant a full day of nothing but Malfoy as company.

The sting from his comments the day before had not nearly begun to fade, and Harry did his best to ignore the presence of the other boy, keeping himself occupied by going over Quidditch formations and twisting the diamond in his fingers absently. As for what Draco did, it didn't really matter. The other had merely sat there all day, content in silence, fingering his arm gingerly.

That night, however, Harry was still awake nearing midnight. All the sleep he had gotten the day before kept him up now, while his prison mate slept unperturbed by the insomnia that struck Harry. Harry lay back, staring at the ceiling. He wanted out, he wanted to get back to the Gryffindor dorm and hang out with his friends, not be stuck here with some slimy toad of a Slytherin.

A moan from the bed beside him entered his thoughts, and he turned in irritation to glare at the other. Malfoy was still asleep, but... something was wrong. His face twisted painfully, and he was paler than he normally was.

Harry sat up, anxiously watching Malfoy. What if he started screaming again? Harry's worry rose as the white-blonde groaned again, and unconsciously grabbed his arm. The Boy Who Lived slid from under the covers of his bed to stand beside Malfoy's, and wondered if he should wake the boy or leave him be. If he screamed, Madame Pomfrey would come running and take care of it, but Harry wasn't sure he could take it again. Once in the Forest had been more than enough for him.

Malfoy turned on his side and yelled in pain, clutching his arm tightly. Harry acted quickly, grabbing the other's shoulders and shaking him hard, "Malfoy, Malfoy! Wake up!"

Instinctively, Malfoy's hand shot up and caught Harry's jaw, returning the punch from yesterday. Harry stumbled backwards, but bent over the boy again, shaking him harder, "Malfoy, wake up!"

The Slytherin started thrashing about, yelling, until finally Harry backhanded him across the cheek. Malfoy's eyes flashed open, and he frantically scanned the inside of their curtain, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He shot up in his bed, and for a moment Harry was afraid he was going to be sick. The Gryffindor reached for the basin in the nightstand, but froze at a moan. He looked back at Malfoy, to find him huddled around himself, head bent into upraised knees.

"Malfoy, are you all right?" Harry cocked an eyebrow and moved closer. To his great shock, Malfoy was shaking horribly, enough to make the bed vibrate slightly. He reached out a tentative hand and touched Malfoy's shoulder, a common gesture of comfort for him. The Slytherin jerked out from under his touch, but not before Harry had felt how cold Malfoy's skin was. Unnaturally cold, deathly cold. "Malfoy," Harry gasped, "You're freezing." He jumped to his bed and pulled the covers from the mattress to drape them over Malfoy.

"I don't need your sympathy, Potter," Malfoy grunted through chattering teeth.

"I didn't offer it," Harry returned icily, "I offered you another blanket." He moved over to his own bed and sat down on it, facing the huddled figure, "What's wrong with you?"

"Besides the fact that I'm a heartless bastard?"

Harry frowned, "That's not what I meant. You can't be that cold... and... and..." He swallowed hard, trying not to picture Hermione lying in the snow. "You'd be dead," he finished curtly.

"Thank you for the wonderful insight," Malfoy squeezed his knees close to his chest in an effort to make some kind of warmth. Harry rubbed his fingertips together, trying to lose the feeling of that intense cold.

"I'm going to get Madame Pomfrey," Harry stood and made to pull the curtain back.

"She already knows," Malfoy blurted, lifting his head slightly, "Go back to bed."

Harry let the curtain fall, shrugging. She undoubtedly already knew something, after the way she had thrown him out the other day. He returned to his vantage point and watched as Malfoy shivered uncontrollably. Then, still haunted by his guilt over the Forest incident, and feeling that this was all somehow his fault, he made the strangest suggestion he had ever made in his life, "Do you want me to sleep with you?"

Malfoy's face paled even more drastically as he gawked at Harry. Quickly, Harry recovered, "No, I meant to share warmth." Another phrase wrongly put. "I mean... Argh!" he gave up, hoping Malfoy would not think anything sexual by his offer. "Look, you shaking in that bed all night is not going to get me any sleep," he put it in terms Malfoy could understand- selfishly wanting sleep while Malfoy suffered. Indeed, the Slytherin was making a decent amount of noise on the rusted springs of his mattress.

Malfoy looked around, taking in the privacy curtains, and then let his eyes rest on Harry. Almost imperceptibly, he allowed the word to fall from his lips, regretting every letter of it, "Fine."

Harry blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly, "What?"

"I said, 'Fine'," Malfoy muttered again, opening the blankets to let cold air breeze against his skin, sending more shivers down his body. Harry jumped from his bed quickly, and slid beside Malfoy, cautiously trying to position himself unassertively. He didn't want Malfoy getting the wrong ideas, but this was something he and Ron did on cold nights, along with the rest of the Gryffindor crew, sleeping on the floor beside the fires, all bundled together- boys and girls alike.

Malfoy lay down, and Harry carefully folded himself to hold Malfoy, his chest pressing against the Slytherin's back, arms draped around his shoulders, both blankets on top of them. He caught himself shivering at the touch of Malfoy's skin, and tried to stop.

"You don't have to do this," Malfoy's voice drifted up weakly, for he was feeling rather stupid and embarrassed at the whole situation.

"Mmm," Harry mumbled, resting his forehead at the base of Malfoy's neck where silvery hair drifted peaceably, as if unsure whether they were supposed to follow gravity's laws and fall downward or continue breezing about. Harry supposed he should be thankful that he was so embarrassed, it was creating even more heat from him, and Malfoy eventually stopped shivering as he dropped off to sleep.

......

Several days later, Harry was released from the Infirmary with a stiff warning from both Madame Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore. He now sat in Potions, trying hard to concentrate and trying hard not to stare at a certain silver blonde head. Ron kept prodding him, asking what had happened in the Infirm, oozing about how horrible it must have been locked up with Malfoy for a day. To this, Harry just nodded absently. He couldn't help but feel that he had seen another side of Malfoy that night. Something that nobody else had ever seen before, a side of Malfoy that was vulnerable and easily broken.

That morning had been extraordinarily amusing, especially seeing Madame Pomfrey's face when she pulled back the curtains. She had paled, then flushed brightly, paled again, and then turned an almost purple color, and had quickly levitated Harry into his own bed while Malfoy protested about the cold. She then turned and introduced Professor Dumbledore to them both, and oddly enough he was smiling knowingly.

Harry groaned imperceptibly and dropped his head onto his Potions book. He'd never be able to face Dumbledore again, or Madame Pomfrey for that matter. Malfoy hadn't had much of a problem, he had made some snide remark about Muggle lovers and fell back asleep leaving Harry to take the brunt of Madame Pomfrey's speeches. When she was done, however, and she turned to close the curtain, Harry was almost positive he had seen her smile.

"What?" Ron had asked him another question.

"I said- did you punch him another one?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry recalled how he had been forced to wake Malfoy up in the night, "I gave him another..." Ron sat back satisfied, as Harry lost himself in his thoughts again. What exactly was wrong with Malfoy, and what could have possibly scared him so much to accept bunking in with his long-time rival? That night, he had seen beneath the nasty exterior of Draco Malfoy. It was even getting hard to think of Draco as Malfoy anymore, he seemed more human now, more normal. Was it possible that Malfoy was normal? Was Malfoy capable of breaking the ice that surrounded him? Could he be turned in to something worthwhile?

"Mr. Potter."

Harry jumped, as Snape's abnormally large nose appeared directly in his line of sight. "Yes, Professor."

"Did the two days in the Infirmary slow your wit even more?" the teacher drawled slowly, "Or do you always tend to drift off in classes of great importance?"

"No, sir."

"Tell me, what is the main ingredient in a Veritas potion?"

Harry sighed inwardly. He figured the answer was in last night's homework, homework he hadn't gotten a chance to do yet as he was in the Infirm. Determined not to be completely and utterly stumped, he replied, "Bratwurst."

Several Muggle-raised Gryffindors started giggling, much to Snape's fury. He spun, his dark cloak billowing behind him, and marched up to his desk, "Ten points from Gryffindor for disruption, and five for insubordination, Mr. Potter."

The Gryffindors sighed as a group. Another typical Potions class. They could always win points back in Quidditch.

......

The corridors were empty at this time of day, students were either in the Great Hall feasting or out on the grounds playing or studying. Harry enjoyed the solitude of merely wandering, he didn't feel sociable at this point in time, and was still trying to figure out what to do about Malfoy. If he could help it, he wasn't going to ever hear Malfoy scream like that day in the Forest. Not if he had anything to say about it.

But what was it that had made him scream like that? Harry shuddered, quite sure that he didn't want to feel it, whatever it was. Not if it caused that much pain.

Harry turned a corner and knocked his head against something hard. He reeled back a step and opened his mouth, when he noticed what he had hit. Malfoy was standing there, rubbing his forehead also. They were about the same height, and had come around the corner fast enough to knock heads.

"Potter," Malfoy greeted him and made to pass him, but Harry sidestepped into his way. Malfoy paused, "Can I help you? Possibly suck up to Professor Snape for you? Pound some knowledge into that cranium of yours that appears to be so thick?"

Harry scowled, his earlier thoughts dismissed. Malfoy was, and always would be, a snotty git. He let the other pass, but, as he watched, Malfoy paused and shook his head hard, as if to clear it. When he started forward again, he staggered a bit and leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Then, as if sensing Harry's eyes, turned and growled, "What are you staring at? Don't you have some heroic act of stupidity to perform today? Why don't you run off and find one?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, "I want to help you."

His words had a drastic effect on the other. Malfoy paled and stumbled against the wall, nearly falling. "Y-You what!?"

"I want to help you," Harry repeated, "You're obviously in pain, and I want to know what's wrong, so that I can help."

"That's all fine and dandy for you, Mr. Hero," Malfoy grit through his teeth, "But some of us don't need rescuing."

"I just want to help," Harry frowned. This wasn't how he thought Malfoy would react. He hadn't expected to be welcomed with open arms, but this flat out rejection stung.

"What makes you think I'd want your help?" Malfoy flared, "You've been nothing but a pain in my ass all seven years we've been here, and-"

"What makes you think I'd offer?" Harry shot back, "Your 'Master' killed my best friend, killed Cedric, killed many other students and Merlin knows how many Muggles since he rose."

"Oh, so you think you're obligated," Malfoy spat, his gray eyes sparking angrily, "Because you're the good guy, the one who holds out his hand to the fallen enemy, expecting to become fast friends? Is that it?"

Harry's eyes widened. Was that it? Is that what he expected? He hadn't really thought about that...

"I don't need your pity, Potter," Malfoy growled.

Harry was about to fire another comment when two first years rounded the corner to see the two most famous boys in school. Both froze, both girls, and their eyes grew wide with their fortune. The two were Ravenclaw, and each wore a blue ribbon in her hair for house pride. Harry shot a look at Malfoy, and then back to the goggling girls. He stalked over to the Slytherin and muttered, "Come outside." He started out to the grounds, and Malfoy, not wishing to be left alone with two oogling first years, followed at an almost frantic pace as the Ravenclaws cried out in dismay behind him.

Outside, Harry was by the lake, and was mildly surprised that Malfoy had come all the way out. He would have thought the other would take the chance to run, but he didn't, and now they stood side by side at the lake.

"What do you want?" Malfoy broke the silence rather rudely.

Harry shoved his hands deep into his pockets and shrugged.

"Well that's not good enough," Malfoy said, with no hint of sarcasm or malice in his voice. The tone made Harry turn in shock, stopping himself from asking Malfoy to repeat. Before he could say anything, however, a chilled breeze swept across them both. Malfoy paled considerably at the temperature, and Harry looked around to find its source. The day was bright, the sun was warm, and it was a typical September afternoon. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and nothing around that would have caused it.

"Did you...?" Harry breathed, feeling a shiver run down his spine. Malfoy had his eyes on the sky, and suddenly he stepped back with a cry of alarm. Harry's eyes shot upward, and he saw cloaked figures swooping from the sky at them. The September heat was quickly replaced by a sinister cold, as dementors dropped out of the sky around them.

Malfoy gave a strangled gasp of horror as one approached him. He stepped back into Harry, who spun the other behind him and stood over him protectively, wand out and tip glowing. "Expecto-" Harry started, but Malfoy sagged against him, almost knocking him over, "Malfoy!" The boy was a pasty white, breathing shallowly but still conscious. He struggled to sit up from his fallen place on the ground, and fumbled about for his wand.

The cold was unbearable, and Harry could only imagine how Malfoy felt. There were so many of them, and only one of him. There was no way he could defend himself and Malfoy, but he had to try. "Expecto Patronum!" he yelled, trying to think of any happy memory at all. His wand tip sparked, but nothing came out of it. No white stag, no flash of blinding light, nothing. Now panicked, Harry jabbed his wand at the nearest one, "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"

All he could hear was his mother's screams, Hermione's screams, Malfoy's screams. They rang in his ears and pounded into his head, driving away any thought of happiness. He sank to his knees, still holding his wand up and trying to focus. One dementor's hood came precariously close to Harry's face as he succumbed to the shrieking blackness.