Feel

By: Lady DeathAngel

Disclaimer: not mine, not profiting, 'nuff said.

Warnings: none

A/N: Wow. These next two chapters just shot right outta me. Bam! There they were. All ready and waiting to be written. The next chapter I've planned slightly. I'm not quite sure where this is going. Harry is having a bit of an identity crisis right now so where he ends up for the time being is up in the air. I know where I want him, lol, but we'll see if what I want is what this story wants for itself. Anyway, please read, enjoy and review!

Malfoy was about as happy to be at Order headquarters as everyone was to have him. Which was to say, not happy at all. At least he kept his complaints to himself for the most part. Ron and Hermione were shocked but it made sense. His father was in prison, probably not for much longer but still, and now his mother was under a mandatory psychological examination. It was a lot to take in, even for Malfoy.

The only real problem that Harry had was the amount of space that the blonde seemed to occupy. It was almost as if every nook or cranny he'd taken to hiding in before Malfoy had shown up had, in the span of thirteen hours, been invaded. The study he went to for time to himself, the space under the stairs where he could play with Nyx without worrying about getting in Mrs. Weasley's way and even his bedroom were now Malfoy territory as well.

The second time he went looking for a place to be alone and bumped into him he sighed loudly and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Is there any particular reason as to why you're everywhere?" he asked the figure sprawled on the sofa.

Malfoy looked up at him from the book he was flipping through and shrugged.

"No."

Harry shook his head and turned on his heel.

"You know, you don't have to vacate a room just because I'm in it," Malfoy told his back. "Granted, I have as much trouble stomaching the sight of you, but considering for the next

week I'll be living with you in such close quarters . . ." he trailed off and Harry turned to see him flipping idly through the book.

"Er . . . well, I was just looking to be alone, that's all," he said with shrug.

Malfoy snorted.

"What? Finally tired of your adoring public? Looking for a place to hide so you don't have to sign more autographs for the Weasel? Really, Potter, that's just rude. It is for charity you know. Their rubbish might actually be worth something with your pretty little signature on it."

"Not that you care," he shot back. "But there are other reasons for me to want to be alone."

The blonde looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh? And just what horrors could possibly chase the Wizarding world's shining beacon of hope into the shadows beneath the stairs?"

Harry cocked his head to the side.

"Why so interested? Going to take notes? Write a letter to Voldemort telling him that ickle Harry Potter wanted time to himself? I'm scared. Really."

Malfoy gave him a searching look and then smirked.

"You know . . . you were the first person to do that."

Harry frowned.

"Do what? Defeat Voldemort?"

He rolled his eyes.

"No. Well, yes, but no. Talk back to me. No one had dared to do it before you and then you did it. Over and over. Stupid little boy that you were."

"Still am."

"What?"

"I'm still a stupid little boy."

Malfoy shook his head.

"Oh no. Don't go all maudlin on me, Potter. The world isn't your responsibility and every bad thing that happens isn't your fault. You give yourself way too much credit." He turned back to his book. "Now, if that's the attitude you're going to take, oh Martyr of the Modern Age, leave me alone."

He stared at the blonde who was either fixedly ignoring him or had really completely dismissed his presence and then sighed to himself and settled down on the floor.

"You're not going to pollute my air with that self-sacrificing shit are you?" Malfoy asked.

Harry turned his head to look at him.

"No."

"Good. Because you're not the only one bad stuff happens to. I can certainly see why it seems that way, what with everyone around here except for Snape and Lupin acting like it's a bloody holiday every day . . ." He trailed off and shuddered. "Aren't these people ever too happy for you?" he asked.

He shrugged.

"Sometimes."

Malfoy muttered something about that being the normal response to such constant optimism and didn't say anything for a few more minutes. Harry took the chance to study him, watched his eyes skimming the pages of whatever book had managed to capture his rapt attention, took in the almost imperceptible lines etched into his face. Lines of stress and who knew what else. Pain maybe. Anger definitely. He bit his lip and then looked away.

"D'you think . . ." He paused and then continued. "Are they going to let you see her? Your mum I mean."

Malfoy didn't look up.

"And why would you care?" he asked. "It's not as if you're concerned for her well-being."

He wanted to say something like, 'how would you know'? But he knew Malfoy wouldn't let something like that convince him that he cared about his mother at all and really, he wasn't sure if he did or not. What he did know was that this was insane what Fudge was doing. It wasn't right. And he said so.

"Yes, well, Fudge is an idiot, isn't he?" Malfoy muttered.

They were silent for a few more minutes before the blonde spoke again.

"She's strong," he said softly. "My father always says it about her. She can handle anything. She'll be okay."

Harry nodded even though he knew Malfoy wasn't looking, and even though he was pretty sure that he wasn't the one his enemy was trying to convince.