The next morning I invite Malfoy to sit with me and my new companions in the dining hall for breakfast. He nods wordlessly and sits beside me without complaint.

Jack raises a brow at his docile behaviour and I just shrug in reply. We ignore the blond and talk around him, I do not even venture an attempt at bringing him into the conversation. Malfoy is consumed by his own thoughts and I can only guess at what it is that occupies his mind.

As soon as the meal is over and we are sent outside for two free hours, I grab Malfoy by the sleeve and drag him off to a private corner of the yard.

"What the hell, Potter?" Malfoy exclaims, throwing my arm off of him.

I refuse to beat around the bush. "Did you kill Snape?" I demand.

Malfoy's eyes widen and his lips part in surprise.

"Because," I plunge on heedlessly, "there's obviously a reason that you don't want to take the Veritaserum and I want to know why."

Malfoy recovers quickly. "How dare you ask me that, Potter," he says in a deadly whisper. "Snape was my head of house, my mentor, my friend…" he chokes off and turns away to regain his composure. "I do not have to explain myself to you, Potter. If anything, I should be the one asking you that question. It's no secret that you hated Professor Snape." Malfoy turns an accusatory glare my way, the icy silver of his eyes cutting right through me.

"But your so-called friend sent your father to prison," I persist.

"Gods, you are so thick, Potter," Malfoy grinds out. "Do you honestly think that there was any love between my father and I?"

"But…he's your dad." I cannot believe anyone could feel so indifferent towards their own father, no matter who they were.

"If the Dark Lord was your father, would you still love him?"

"It's more complicated than just good and evil, Malfoy."

Malfoy smirks and folds his arms over his chest. "I'm surprised someone like you can understand that. You're finally learning, Potter. But that doesn't answer my question, would you love your father if he was an evil bastard?"

I chew on my lip as I pace, trying to figure out how best to voice my thoughts. "It depends on a person's character, I guess. If someone grows up learning that one way is right and one way is wrong, then who's to say that that is the wrong way." I stop and run a hand through my hair in exasperation. "I'm not explaining myself very well."

"No, you're not," Malfoy drawls, coolly.

"What I mean is that a person will automatically love their father right from birth, and will look up to him and believe what he says, no matter what. If a child is taught that his father's way is the only way, then why should he question it? If the child is unharmed and treated in a loving manner, then there is nothing to tell him that anything is wrong. By the time he is a teenager, the beliefs are so far ingrained that he will continue to look up to his father and remain true to his family. Just as I believe that the good side is the right side, our enemies on the evil side believe that their side is right. It's just a question of perspective."

Malfoy nods, like a teacher acknowledging the correct answer from his pupil.

"So how is it that you, Malfoy, managed to break the cycle and refuse your father?" I ask.

"Again, it's a question of perspective. As I grew older, I came to realize that the number of do-gooders outnumbered the members of the Dark Lord's group, and always would. I was not awed by delusions of grandeur and power, which is the downfall of all Death Eaters, including my father. I quite suddenly couldn't fathom my father's actions at all, I knew that the highest ranking Death Eater still had to bow at the Dark Lord's feet and still feared for his life every time he apparated to that godforsaken circle. Then I looked at the side of the light, really looked, and saw no bowing in the dirt at Dumbledore's feet, no human sacrificing made for the cause, no pain nor torture."

"You make it sound so obvious," I note quietly. "Then why are there so many Death Eaters, why don't more people see it the way you do? If you broke away, why not others?"

Malfoy sighs, suddenly weary. "Because they are blind to the truth, and others are too scared to defy him. I think Dumbledore hopes that taking us away from our families and their opinions and sticking us with other wizarding children from different backgrounds at Hogwarts just might change us for the better, make us question the truth. I think that's why he's kept Slytherin house around, he's giving us a chance to be our own person. Slytherins aren't bad people, Potter, they just haven't been given the opportunity to become who they really are."

"And Snape helped you find who you really are?" I ask, gently.

"Yes." Malfoy lifts his chin, daring me to challenge him. "He is…was a good man. He has saved more lives than you will ever know, and always at the risk of his own. He was more of a father than Lucius ever was."

I am stunned that Malfoy is opening up to me in this way. I feel like I should reciprocate the gesture. "I didn't really hate, Snape," I admit. "He's saved my life on more than one occasion. I also think that he was good for you, for the Slytherins in general. He showed your house a pride that I don't think any of the other professors felt towards you."

"You're right there, Potter," Malfoy sneers disdainfully. "For a school that is supposed to teach equality of mankind, the professors certainly are prejudiced, which in turn affects the other students as well."

"I had heard that your house was the one to avoid even before I'd passed through the doors of Hogwarts."

"You see?" Malfoy smiles coldly.

I absently blow at a stray lock of hair that has fallen into my eye. "I bet you didn't know that I was going to be sorted into Slytherin."

"You what?" Malfoy exclaims, his mask of cool superiority slipping.

"Yeah." I chuckle. "But I pleaded for the hat to send me anywhere but there, so he did."

Malfoy shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't believe the Golden Boy of Hogwarts was almost put into Slytherin."

"I wonder what would've happened."

Malfoy shrugs indifferently. "I guess we'll never know."

I look over at the blond, considering. "Did you ever wonder what would've happened if I had taken your hand that first day?"

"No." Malfoy raises a brow. "Why? Do you think about holding my hand a lot, Potter?"

"No!" I exclaim, horrified. I pray that he won't bring up the whole queer thing again.

He doesn't.

Malfoy leans up against the fence and stares around the yard in a bored manner. "I wonder when they'll come to fetch us."

"Huh?" I look at him blankly.

"To give us the Veritaserum."

"Oh." I'd forgotten about that little white lie. "About that, er…I lied, Malfoy. They haven't changed their minds about giving us the serum."

Malfoy narrows his eyes at me and I prepare for the inevitable explosion. Then he breaks into a reluctant smile. "Maybe you would have survived alright in Slytherin after all."

"You're not mad?" I ask, incredulously.

He shrugs and turns to look out over the yard once more, a faint smile still hovering about his lips. "Why should I be? I never really answered your question, did I?"

He's right. I start to smile as well. "So tell me now."

"Maybe when you're older," he answers evasively.

I shake my head and let it go for the time being. "Can I properly introduce you to my friends now?"

"What for?" Malfoy replies, back to using his utterly bored tone of voice.

"Because sometimes it's nice to have people looking out for you."

Malfoy glances at me. "What are they in here for?" he asks.

"What does that matter?" I frown. "Need I remind you, that we are in here for murder. Plus, they all told me that they're all innocent." A smile pulls at my lips at that.

"Because, Potter, everything we do in here can get back to the court and sway the judge's opinion of us, of our case. All we need is for them to find out that we've been cavorting with Death Eaters and mass murders."

"They're not raving lunatics, Malfoy. They're good people," I defend.

"How would you even know?" he counters. "Maybe they've been placed in here for a reason."

"And what would that be?" I ask with a roll of my eyes.

Malfoy shrugs carelessly. "I don't know, maybe to kill the Dark Lord's main target while he's in the shower."

I simply stare at him for a minute. "How does it feel?" I ask.

"How does what feel?"

"To always suspect the world of being against you? To never feel like you can trust anyone."

"I trust myself, Potter, and that's enough. People will come and go, but you can only count on yourself to get you through this mess of a life," he answers matter-of-factly, a touch of bitterness sharpening the words.

I shake my head. I would pity him if I didn't know him so well. "How about meeting them just to please me?" I try, jokingly.

"Fine." He replies shortly. "But tell me something first."

"W-what?" I ask, thrown.

"Do you still think that I murdered Professor Snape?"

I lick my lips and stare down at my trainers as I scuff at the dusty gravel beneath my feet. "I don't know, Malfoy." I sigh. "I want to believe you, but I just don't know if you're putting on an act or not. Ron and Hermione said-" I shake my head. "I…I need to think about it for awhile," I say finally.

"Fair enough." Malfoy nods and straightens up, pushing himself off the fence in one smooth motion. "Introduce me to your psychotic, blood-thirsty friends now, Potter."

I snort and walk off across the yard - Malfoy in tow - as we head towards my small group of companions.

I greet them with a smile. "Hey guys, I think I forgot to introduce my cellmate to you earlier." I turn and motion to Malfoy. "This is Draco Malfoy."

"Of the Death Eater Malfoys?" Jack inquires in a feigned posh accent.

I wince inwardly.

Malfoy coolly raises a brow in return. "Yes, and you are?"

I let out a breath of relief.

"Oh, I go by many names; Richard Hannigan the third, Jackknife, Jack, Jack of all trades-"

"Jack the long-winded?" Malfoy interjects sardonically.

The right corner of Jack's mouth twitches almost imperceptively. "Some might say that, yes." He leans right over towards Malfoy, standing a good three or four inches taller than the snide blonde. "But they never lived long enough to repeat the offence."

Malfoy holds his ground. "Don't worry about it, Hannigan, I have no intention of repeating the offence of speaking with you again."

Jack guffaws and everyone smiles as he claps Malfoy on the shoulder, a gesture that I'm sure the Slytherin has never experienced before. He stumbles forward slightly in surprise.

"You're alright, kid." Jack winks.

Malfoy smoothes his shabby prison robes with dignity. "Yes, well…that means a lot to me," he answers sarcastically. "The inmate stamp of approval."

I shoot Amari a smile as he observes Malfoy's behavior with a puzzled frown. "If you're trying to think of a nickname for him, may I suggest 'one-who-has-silver-spoon-up-his-arse?'"

Everyone laughs as Malfoy glares at me. Oh, if looks could kill. I use his trademark smirk on him in return.

"I will think of a proper name once I have seen behind the mask," Amari says wisely.

I glance at Malfoy, waiting for some snide remark, but he is merely appraising the black man in silence.

"Any problems yet, boys?" Little Slick asks, lighting a fag.

I share a look with Malfoy. "No, not really. Although, the guards could be kinder."

"Here, here." The rest chorus in agreement. "Will never happen, though," Jack says as he accepts his pack of fags back from Little Slick and slips them into his pocket.

"Potter!"

I turn and watch as two of the guards approach us at a brisk walk, eyeing the other inmates around us with displeasure. I swallow nervously, wondering if they have been secretly monitoring our conversation somehow. I didn't say anything too incriminating, I don't think…

"Yes?" I answer hesitantly.

"Your presence is required in the conference room," the tall guard grunts at me, yanking my arms out and shackling them without another word. Jack narrows his eyes warningly at him as I wince in pain.

"Yours, too, Malfoy." The other one informs my cellmate.

"See you later, Bakari."

I look over my shoulder as we are led away and see Jack lift a hand in goodbye.

Malfoy and I are led through the dark, foul-smelling corridors until we end up before a thick, rusty metal door. The guard accompanying Malfoy pushes it open and unceremoniously shoves me inside, slamming the door closed once more behind me.

Dumbledore is sitting calmly at the large metal table that occupies most of the room, and Remus is pacing just behind him.

"Harry." Remus greets me with a warm smile, his eyes searching for any signs of abuse or discomfort.

I smile back at him, wishing that I could break out of these shackles and run into his arms. There's nothing that I would want more in this moment than a nice, warm hug. Prison seems to reduce a person back to their inner child, and I find myself craving stuffed animals, hot chocolate, and hugs from the man that is the closest thing to a father that I have. I know it's pathetic, but I absolutely ache with the want of it.

"Have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore invites kindly, motioning to an empty chair.

Remus sits beside Dumbledore and they both fold their hands on top of the table. I sit down, copying their hand position, except that my wrists are weighted down by heavy steel chains that clatter loudly on the table top.

"Where's Malfoy?" I ask, realizing that I have left him in the corridor.

"He'll be in in a moment," Dumbledore replies absently.

"How are you doing, Harry?" Remus asks in concern.

"M'okay." I shrug, looking down at my hands. I know I will fall to pieces if I look at his worried face. "Why are you here?" I look up at Dumbledore. "Did you find anything yet?"

Dumbledore shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry, my boy."

I nod and return to looking at my hands. The hard steel suddenly feels even colder around my thin wrists, the edges biting into my skin.

Remus glances at Dumbledore before speaking. "Harry, your headmaster and I had a visit from Hermione and Ron this morning."

I look up with a frown.

"They were very insistent that we speak with them about something."

"What?" I ask.

He glances at Dumbledore again. "They seem to think that you are not…considering all the possibilities that could've come into play the night Snape was murdered."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you are a good person, Harry," Dumbledore answers, "but can sometimes be blinded by your faith in the people around you."

"Malfoy." I state simply.

They both nod in affirmation.

I sigh, not really knowing why this conversation is annoying me. Maybe it's the fact that my friends went behind my back, not trusting me to come to my own conclusions, or maybe just the conclusions they want to hear. "You think I'm protecting Malfoy?" I say incredulously. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? We are not friends, we do not sit up all night and trade secrets while sharing a cell here. I might not hate him like I used to, but that's only because we have been working together for the past year – you must trust him, professor," I cry, looking to Dumbledore. "I mean, you have him working for the Order for Merlin's sake."

"I trusted Tom Riddle at one point in my life as well, Harry," Dumbledore answers evenly.

"Look." I can feel myself growing more and more agitated. "Malfoy is many things that aren't exactly warm and fluffy, but he is not a murderer."

"Harry." Remus leans across the table towards me. "If you have any doubts about his innocence whatsoever, you can tell us."

I'm about to reply when Dumbledore quickly interrupts. "Think about this for a minute, Harry. If you tell us that you suspect Mr Malfoy, then the court is prepared to take your word for it and let you walk free, proceeding with the trial against Draco alone."

I feel as if the air has been sucked right out of my body. I stare unseeing at the two wizards across from me. I can go home, I can return to my life, I can see my friends, I can see Hagrid, play quidditch, I won't have to see Malfoy any….

I snap out of it, blinking a few times. Deep down I know that I am not sure about Malfoy either way. I would never be able to live with myself knowing that I had left Malfoy to fend for himself, my testimony hurting his chances of ever walking free again. Especially if he is innocent. I can't do that. I won't.

"No." I state firmly. "Draco isn't guilty of Snape's murder."

"Are you completely sure?" Remus urges. "No doubts at all?"

"No." I shake my head. I know that's a lie, but it's one that will not only save Malfoy, but my conscience as well. They will eventually find something, in the end we will be exonerated. And if Malfoy is guilty…then that will eventually come to light as well and he will deserve what he gets, I'll make sure of that.

"Thank you, Harry." Dumbledore suddenly smiles, the twinkle returning to his blue eyes. With a sudden jolt, I wonder if he knows the truth. The headmaster stands and walks over to the door to let Malfoy in.

Remus smiles at me, but I can tell that he was really hoping that I would finger Malfoy so that I could go home with him today.

Malfoy eyes the two of us as he takes the chair beside me. He stares expectantly at Dumbledore.

The headmaster suddenly looks very tired again. "Mr Malfoy, a few of the Hogwart's staff members and myself have been going through Severus' belongings."

Malfoy stiffens beside me, but his face remains impassive.

"Sorting through his books and journals and the like. Is there anything that you would like for us to set aside for you?"

Malfoy swallows, his long, pale throat convulsing with the movement as he thinks quietly to himself before replying. "I would appreciate it if you would set aside his journals for me." He stops, then adds, "And there is a set of shampoo, bubble bath, and conditioners in his bathroom that I gave to him as a gift last Christmas, I would like to have that as well."

From my close position, I can see the effort it is taking for Malfoy to speak. How he is blinking more often than is normal, the tight set of his jaw.

Now I know I made the right decision. Malfoy was clearly very close to Snape, I would even go so far as to say loved him. There's no way that he was the one to end his life.

"Of course." Dumbledore scribbles a few notes down on a piece of parchment from his pocket. He puts it away once more and looks up to fix us with a grave stare. "I should also tell you, Mr Malfoy, that I have just gone over Severus' will. He has left his entire estate to you."

I gape and turn to the stunned blond. He too seems at a loss for words.

"That's not good news, is it?" Malfoy finally asks, looking between the two older wizards.

"I'm afraid not," Remus says quietly. "The fact that one of the suspects in Snape's murder is also the recipient of his entire fortune and estate does not bode well for your case."

Malfoy accepts the news with a nod.

There is a heavy silence in the room as we all absorb this new twist. It seems the fates are against us…if I believed in such things, that is. Luckily, I've spent enough time around Trelawney to not make me a believer in any of that tripe.

"I'm afraid we have to go now, gentlemen," Dumbledore announces, breaking the silence. He rises and we all get to our feet. "Take care," he says in passing. "Do not lose hope."

I nod and try to smile as Dumbledore walks past.

Remus gathers me into a hug, even if I can't reciprocate. I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest. "Goodbye, Harry," he whispers, brokenly. "I'll come back as often as I can, and don't worry, we'll find something soon."

I nod, feeling the tears prickle hotly behind my eyes.

"Goodbye, Mr Malfoy," Remus says politely to Draco. "You're lucky to have someone as selfless as Harry in here with you."

I feel my cheeks burn as Malfoy frowns slightly at Remus' retreating back.

We are taken back to our cell and turned loose. I rub my sore wrists and eye my soiled mat with disgust. I don't think I can sleep another night on that filthy, disease-ridden thing.

"What was that all about, Potter?" Malfoy asks, looking as if he was also contemplating the idea of sleeping standing up to avoid his mat.

"What?" I reply, knowing perfectly well what he is talking about.

"Don't play dumb with me, Potter. You're werewolf friend was talking about something, something about you being a perfect hero."

"He did not." I lean against the wall and look out our tiny, barred window.

"If you tell me then I'll answer your question," Malfoy sing-songs teasingly.

"Even if you did kill Snape, do you really think me gullible enough to believe that you would actually tell me the truth?" I stall.

"True." Malfoy smirks. "I swear on my father's grave that I will tell you the truth."

"Your dad's not dead, Malfoy," I point out.

"Alright, on my mother's grave."

"You hated your mother."

Malfoy loses his teasing smirk. "I swear on Severus' grave that I will not lie to you."

Why am I doing this? I already know the answer. "Fine, I'll tell you." I can't look at him as I say it. "Dumbledore gave me an out today and I didn't take it. Now answer my question."

"Oh, hell no," Malfoy exclaims, eyes widening. "What the fuck are you talking about, Potter? What did he say? What did he offer you? And why the hell didn't you accept?"

I walk over to the window and stare out over the colourless yard below, a few grey-garbed prisoners dotting the barren landscape. "He told me that if I doubted your innocence, then I could tell the court and they would let me go, leaving you to be prosecuted alone."

"What?" Malfoy comes up beside me. "They were just going to take your word for it?"

I nod.

"And you said no?"

"I'm still here aren't I?"

Malfoy turns away and sits on his mat. "Fucking Ministry," he mutters. "Prejudiced bastards…"

I snort and turn around. "And you aren't?"

"What, a bastard or prejudiced?"

"Both. I seem to recall you using a certain derogatory term quite often-"

"I never called anyone a queer to their face…except maybe you, Potter."

I raise my brows. "I was talking about the term mudblood."

"Oh." Malfoy pauses, then shrugs. "I haven't called anyone that for some time."

I smile and look back out the window. A few minutes pass before Malfoy speaks again.

"Don't you want to know the answer to your question now?"

"No." I turn and square my shoulders before marching over to my mat and sitting down. I try to not breathe through my nose as that disgusting stench of body odour wafts up from the fabric. I am definitely ready for an afternoon nap at this point

"Why not?" he asks, tilting his blond head curiously.

He looks so like a child at that moment that I have to smile. I bet he was a cute kid when he was little, those big grey eyes, white-blond hair, pale skin.

"Potter?"

I lie down on my side, facing him. "Because I already know the answer," I say simply.

I close my eyes and I hear Malfoy settling himself down on his mat as well. I am just at the point of drifting off when I hear the faintest of whispers.

"Thank you."

I smile, my eyes still closed. "Your welcome, Draco," I murmur in return.