The smell of hay and owls drifted lazily, as heavy as his heart. Harry moaned again and covered his face with his hands. A small barn owl kept trying to get his attention, but he was not in the mood. The night was high, or rather, the morning was early, and he had run to the Owlery as soon as Draco had left. Or rather, been taken away.

He couldn't erase the look in Draco's eyes as he was led away. Those molten grays had been so full of hopelessness, of fear, of betrayal. Draco thought Harry had failed.

Harry sunk lower into the haystack where he had sat. He had failed. He had vowed to protect Draco, and he hadn't. Now, he would never see the blonde again.

The long suppressed memory of that day in the Forbidden Forest suddenly came back with startling clarity. Draco, on the ground of the forest, screaming in such pain that he passed out. His own inability to move. It seemed like so long ago, yet Harry could recall it quickly.

Once again, the feeling of helplessness swept over him. There was nothing he could do. He wasn't a hero; he was just a boy with a stick.

Harry sat up and crouched over his knees, resting his head in his hands. No.

He would not let this go.

Harry stood up quickly, not bothering to shake the hay from his clothing, and ran to Dumbledore's office. He banged on the door; the Headmaster had long changed the passwords, "Professor! Professor! Let me in!"

The door opened a crack, and Dumbledore's half-moon glasses twinkled in the candlelight, "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Professor, I need Malfoy's address!" Harry yelled frantically, desperately restraining himself not to knock down the door, "Please!"

"I am not allowed to divulge that information, young man," Dumbledore opened the door further, stepping partially into the hallway, "However, I have long needed a trip to the lavatory. In my old age, I am getting quite careless and I seem to have left the door open to my office." He walked down the hall, humming to himself as Harry stared at his back. Sometimes the professor was beyond comprehension.

He darted into the room quickly, knowing that he had until Dumbledore returned to get the information. If he didn't have it within that time, the Headmaster would have to punish him. Harry quickly poured over everything on the massive desk and found nothing. He sighed and looked around the room. A large box sat on the floor of the room, tucked into a corner. Harry leapt over to it, ripping the lid off and plunging into the papers inside. Each paper was contact information for every student in the school at the time.

Harry quickly pored over the papers, and came across Mafloy's. He scanned the page and memorized the name, just as Dumbledore walked back into the room. "Harry Potter," he gasped, "I would have thought better of you than to take advantage of an old man's senility!"

The Gryffindor stood, and bolted out the door, yelling behind him, "I won't fail this time!"

He was sure Dumbledore heard him, and he ran to the common room, grabbing his Cloak and his broom. Then, without disturbing anyone in the room sleeping, he noiselessly opened a window and jumped into the night.

......

The night stretched on, seemingly endless in its turns and pain. The room held no lights- it was meant only to sleep in. He sat on the bed, staring at nothing in particular, searching out the window for any sign of life. He didn't know quite what he was looking for, but he didn't find it. He dropped his gaze and cursed Potter for the hundredth time that night.

He shouldn't be sad, he shouldn't be depressed. Those were saved for the romantics, who couldn't live without human interaction. He had lived for so long without emotion that he didn't need it. Now, when Potter unlocked it, it seemed to overwhelm him and leave him for dead.

He missed Potter. He missed the warmth, the comfort, and the security of just being near him. Potter had given him something no other person had given him- a refuge, a sanctuary. He would die before admitting it, but he yearned to be near the hero again, to feel that comfort.

Draco turned and lay on his stomach on the bed. Damn Potter for making him feel! For years the only thing he had felt was hatred, an emotion that left one as cold as the curse now made him. Hatred had been the only emotion he had needed, and now he wished his life were back to that simple way.

A gentle tapping on the window caught his ear. He turned to the lone glass and saw with a start that Potter floated outside on a broom. The boy was grinning like a maniac, and waving. Draco was at the window and opening it before his jaw had dropped.

A gust of wind blew Potter into the room, sending him spinning off his broom and into Draco. They crashed to the floor together, finding themselves once again tangled with one another. This time, however, Potter had landed on top of Draco and was squishing the air from the blonde's lungs. At the moment, Draco didn't care. He could look up and stare into Potter's brilliant green eyes and that was all that mattered. For a moment, Potter stared back. Then, he clambered off, turning a bright shade of red in the process.

"Hallo Malfoy," he said by way of introduction.

"Hallo Potter," Draco shot back, "What are you doing here?"

"Came to get you of course," Potter spoke as if it was the simplest concept in the world, "Let's go."

Unwillingly, Draco felt color drain from his face, "Father will kill you. He has-"

Potter rolled his eyes, "He has giant deadly spiders, yes I know. He can only kill me if he catches me-"

"That can be arranged."

Draco spun to see his father standing in the doorway. He whirled back to look at Potter, whose face had gone ashen, "I used an Invisibility Cloak... There's no way you could have seen-"

"I don't need to see when someone enters my grounds you stupid Gryffindor child," Father spat, "There are wards all over the grounds to let me know when someone leaves or enters." Potter paled more, if at all possible, and took a step towards the window. Father waved his wand and the window shut, "Now, Mr. Potter, you do realize you are trespassing, and that I am welcome to do as I like with you- in respect to the traditional landowning laws."

Draco could tell that the gravity of what Potter had done was sinking in. With a strike of fear, he knew what his father would do. Torture and then hand over the boy to the Dark Lord like a good Death Eater. "No..." the word was whispered; his father did not hear it, nor did Potter.

Father, all the cool gentleman, calmly lifted his wand at Potter. He opened his mouth, but Draco did not hear the curse. It could have been the Killing curse, or the Cruciatus curse. It didn't matter. All that mattered was keeping those green eyes lit.

Before he completely realized what he had done, Draco had launched himself in front of Harry, knocking the other over and using his own body as a shield for whatever Father threw at them.

"Crucio!"

He may have been prepared to feel pain, but this was unlike any pain he had ever felt before. Tearing, burning, constricting. He couldn't breathe, it hurt so badly. Stars exploded before his eyes, and he fought to keep his mouth shut- not to scream. He wouldn't scream. The tearing arched through his chest and raced down his arms, threatening to burn them. He writhed, and vaguely felt arms around him, trying to stop his shaking. His hands found another's and he gripped hard, trying to survive the pain. If only he could die, to make it stop. The icy fire ripped through him, plunging him into burning torture before washing his nerves in frozen shards. Unwillingly, a scream split from his lips.

A voice rose to join his, yelling desperately, "NO!" Arms clutched at him as the blinding pain mercifully stopped and he dropped to the ground. For the longest moment, all that could be heard in the room was his pained gasps for breath and Potter's choked panting. The boy was trying to rise, to sit up and put Draco under his protection. Draco let him, too exhausted to move, to even think as Potter drew him into his arms.

Lucius seemed more than shocked as he regarded the two boys. His son- his flesh and blood- friends with Potter? "Is this..." usually eloquent, Lucius was struck speechless by the occurrences, "I did not raise you to associate with such rabble, Draco."

"He can associate with whoever he wants, you bastard!" Potter's grip on his arms was painfully tight, "You'd curse your own son with an Unforgivable!?" Potter took a shuddering breath, "You should have stayed in Azkaban!"

"I do not need to be lectured by you in my own castle," Lucius growled, "Which, may I remind you, you willingly stepped into." Potter noticed a flash of red outside the window. His eyes flicked towards it without moving his head in case Lucius hadn't noticed it yet. A soft shrilling reached his ears, and he knew instantly what hovered outside the window. "You will do well to remove your grubby hands from my heir," Lucius continued, "You may transfer your tendencies onto him."

Potter let out a low guttural sound in disgust but instead of retorting leaned to Draco's ear, "Draco, do you trust me?"

A spark flew through him at the sound of his name, and he forced his eyes open to stare into Potter's worried green. Faint pricks from the torture still rang in his blood, making him wonder why he had jumped in the way in the first place. With a feeling that he was too far-gone, he nodded slowly, "Yes..."

"You'll be okay," Potter whispered as he turned his attention back to Lucius. Sliding one hand slowly into his pocket to get his wand, he shot, "For your information, I washed my hands before I left school." He jerked the wand from his pocket and whipped it towards the window, "Wingardium leviosa!"

Draco felt himself being hurtled through the air. His back slammed against the window to his room with enough force to shatter it, spitting glass everywhere and sending him flying into the night. From out of nowhere, a great red bird swooped down and released a great yell. Draco landed hard on a feathered back, and he sat up quickly to see what had become of Potter. The boy was standing on the windowsill, dodging curses as he leaped into the night. The bird caught him in its talons, and shrilled loudly again as it quickly put the mansion behind them.

......

"Well done, Harry, well done," Dumbledore grinned cheerfully as a ragged Harry Potter led an equally distressed, and somewhat bloody, Draco Malfoy back into his office at three in the morning. "Not a doubt in my mind you could do it."

"That's why you sent Fawkes," Harry smiled back knowingly.

"The bird freed itself," Dumbledore maintained as he sat in his desk. He gestured that the other two should sit also, and noticed that Harry moved his chair closer to the Malfoy boy in the process. Not surprising, but interesting to say the least. "Now, I have something direly important to tell you both." Harry's eyebrows shot up, but Draco was too tired to do anything more than stare. "Harry, I fear this will effect you the most, as it deals with your father," the Headmaster began, not sure how to put the story lightly, "As you know, James and Tom Riddle were classmates. Opposite houses, just as you, yet they had a completely different relationship." At this, he turned to Harry, "Young Potter, have you ever wondered why your father was marked by Voldemort?" Draco flinched visibly at the name, but Dumbledore remained intent on Harry.

"Dad refused to become a Death Eater..." Harry's eyes were full of questions, "Right?"

"Partly," the wizard nodded, "Your father and Tom Riddle had a peculiar relationship. You see, Riddle loved your father."

Harry blanched, "Friends. You mean they were friends?"

The Headmaster of Hogwarts shook his head, "No, Harry, they were more than friends." He waited for this information to sink in, knowing it would shock the poor boy. Indeed, Harry looked a sickly white in the face. Draco stared at the other boy in concern- a look Dumbledore noticed with relief. There was something there, something in Draco's eyes that had been in Riddle's. There was hope.

"However, Riddle was obsessed with power. In his search for more, he placed a curse on himself, a curse I'm sure young Malfoy is familiar with." Draco sat up a bit straighter. "Yes, the very same curse you suffer from. However, when James found out, he would not sit still. When it came down to it, James convinced Riddle to partake in the cure. James refused to let Riddle fall into darkness, and he was more than willing to participate. However, the cure failed, and Harry is living proof of that." Two faces stared at him quizzically, and Dumbledore smiled, "The curse can only be removed by two people who will love and protect each other."

At this, Draco looked ill along with Harry. "L-Love?" he choked out, glancing at the Boy Who Lived.

Cheerfully ignoring the look of horror on both their faces, Dumbldore rose from his chair and started pacing the office, "Professor Snape has the potion ready, and all that needs to be determined is whether you two are ready." He gave them both a pointed look. "The cure is very complicated, and will require all of your attention. James did not have the frame of mind to complete it, and we lost Riddle. I do not wish for you both to fall into a repeated history."

......

They had been given chocolate and been ushered from the office quickly after the small talk, and now Harry sat with Draco in the Infirmary. The whitewashed room was really the only place they could talk privately. There was one thing that had been bugging Harry for the past few hours, and he finally had a chance to ask about it now as he bandaged Draco's cuts from window glass, "Draco, back at your house... why did you cover me?"

The Slytherin turned a brilliant shade of red and shrugged his slender shoulders. He looked so sheepish, as if he had been caught putting a Valentine in his crush's mailbox. With his white-blonde hair falling gently over his eyes, framing his now scarlet cheeks, the molten gray of his eyes shone from the shadows in his face to make him look almost like an angel. Cocking his head, he cast a look at Draco that shook the other. "I..." Harry started, rather surprised at himself, "I could love you."

Draco's cheeks darkened further as he stared in disbelief at the other. "W-What?" he sputtered, not quite sure he had heard correctly.

"If you let me," Harry continued, twisting his hands nervously.

"Why? You hate me!" Draco burst out, willing it to be true yet at the same time hoping Harry wasn't joking.

The green orbs widened, "I don't hate you! I don't hate anyone!" He sounded hurt, as if he had been insulted, "I don't even hate Voldemort..." Harry stared at Draco, "You deserve to be loved. I think... you need to be loved." He moved closer, forcing Draco onto his back as he arched over him to stare into stone gray eyes.

"I don't need anything..." Draco found the position very uncomfortable, and found he could not reduce the color in his cheeks, "I don't... I don't deserve anything from the Boy Who Lived."

Harry wasn't about to let that train of thought continue. He knew he didn't owe Draco anything. His master had killed his parents, his best friend. His father had killed his godfather, the only living tie he had left to his parents. His father had tried to kill him. He didn't need to give anything to Draco. And yet...

"Everyone deserves to be loved," Harry maintained firmly, "Just as nobody deserves to feel pain." Draco stared up at the Gryffindor, and saw nothing but honesty in his eyes. Those green eyes that sparkled playfully at times, burned fiercely at others, and cried at still others. He could see himself reflected in them, they were so close. Draco reached up and removed the barrier of glass that separated those eyes from him, and tossed Harry's glasses aside. The boy smiled, so close that it didn't matter whether he wore glasses or not, "Do you trust me?"

Pinned as he was, Draco could not have moved if he wanted to. He was forced to give a reply. He remembered at his father's castle, where he had been delirious with pain and rested in Harry's arms. He had been asked the same thing, but then he hadn't had much of a choice. It was either go with Harry or face his father's punishment. Yet here, he had a choice. He could be rid of the curse, and he wouldn't be alone anymore. He could find the strength to stand up to his father with Harry.

On the other hand, he could give in to the curse and become as powerful as the Dark Lord, with no emotions to worry about.

Harry stared at him, waiting for his answer patiently. Draco smiled timidly, a small smile that graced his features like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. To Harry, it was exactly that. A ray of sunshine in the dark Infirmary. He grinned in pleasure and leaned forward, touching his lips to Draco's gently. The white-blonde was taken by surprise, and he closed his eyes as Harry pressed him into the bed.

The touch of his lips brought warmth to Draco. The Slytherin found himself warm enough to shiver, and he did. He stopped when Harry latched his arms around him, however, pressing him close. The exhaustion from lack of sleep and his torture faded when Harry ran his tongue along Draco's lips, shocking the blonde into gasping.

Harry pulled back suddenly, grinning widely, "Draco, have you ever been kissed before?"

Turning a delicious shade of crimson, Draco sputtered, "N-No..." Harry laughed uproariously, his chest rocking against Draco's. Upon settling down, Harry dropped onto the pillow beside Draco's head, facing him, close enough that their breath mingled comfortably. As he stared into the molten gray of Draco's eyes, Harry found himself oddly regretful. The gray was flecked with tiny sparks of gold, like a treasure hidden amongst stone.

As Draco gazed unflinchingly back, Harry took a breath, "I can't believe I've never looked at you before."

"You've looked at me plenty of times," Draco replied softly, not adding that those times had been full of malice and hate.

Harry shook his head like a stubborn child, "Not like this. Before, I saw you as a heartless bastard, basically. I never dreamed you were just a normal boy."

"Thanks for the imagery, Potter," Draco smirked, "But for your information, I am still a heartless bastard." The silver-blonde started as a hand reached out and touched his skin, right over where his physical heart puttered quickly.

The brunette rested his hand there, feeling Draco's heart beat, "I feel something. You have a heart."

With a groan, Draco rolled onto his back, "Just because I can see right and wrong now doesn't mean I have a heart. It just means I don't want to die."

Propping himself up on an elbow, Harry leaned over him, "Then I'll be your heart for now."

Draco stared at him, unsure what to say. Finally, he opened his mouth, "I'm sorry."

Wondering, Harry cocked an eyebrow, "For what?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Draco directed his eyes to the privacy curtains surrounding the bed, "At the Manor... I screamed. I know you don't like hearing people scream, I tried to stop but I couldn't help it..."

Harry felt the color rush from his face as he remembered those horrible moments, lying on his back unable to do anything except cry. Seeing Draco's face in such agony, knowing he couldn't stop it, feeling the Slytherin's body shake on him... it was something he never wanted to relive, made worse by the earsplitting wail the boy had loosed. With a shudder, Harry closed his eyes, "Don't apologize. You... You saved me." What shocked Harry most was that, even in the midst of such horrible torture, Draco was thinking of him. "You tried to stop screaming because of me?"

Again, color flooded into Draco's cheeks and he became intensely interested in a spot on the ceiling.

"I'm sorry...for being such a prat all these years..." he continued staring at Draco, though the other refused to meet his gaze, "I didn't know there was such an angel under the devil."

Wincing at the analogy, Draco finally looked at him, "Very creative, Potter, did you come up with it yourself?" He sighed, "I'm not sure if I like this... It's wrong. Not three weeks ago we absolutely hated each other, and now some Muggle-loving old man wants us to love each other? It's not going to happen, Potter."

"It's the only way to lift the curse," Harry's voice bordered dangerously on breaking, "I want to protect you."

"That's all well and good, Mr. Hero, but some people don't want to be protected," Draco shot back, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

"You keep saying that... Are you one of those people?" Harry fired suddenly, glaring fiercely at the white-blonde before him. The Gryffindor watched as Draco chewed on his lip nervously. It was a habit of his, Harry had noticed, whenever he was anxious or cornered.

As if noticing Harry staring, Draco stopped, "I don't need-"

"Protection," Harry scowled. He swung himself out of the bed with startling agility. Draco sat up also, shivering in the new cold. "Have it your way," Harry spat as he stormed out of the Infirmary.