I know I haven't updated in like months, and I'm sorry, I give you full permission to tie me down to the table of bad authors and beat me with chains. No seriously, I'm glad to see that people are still reading my stuff after all this time. THANX

-And special thank-yous to Yoflam Rettop Reverof, for making me want to write again.

Disclaimer: You know I don't own them, so don't sue me.

Ok, let's see, where was I, oh yeah!

'Harry might hate me…'

Draco spent the rest of the morning working his hardest to unpack, sort and organize, and generally doing a damned good job of avoiding Harry. But by the third time he'd rearranged his sock drawer he couldn't take the quiet anymore, and was forced back down stairs.

In the living room he found George and Hermione cuddled on the couch, eating the rest of the leftover eggs. The TV wasn't on, and the room was comfortably silent, then Draco showed up.

It was no secret to Draco that, for some reason, strangers often found him distracting and his presence uncomfortable, and so he wasn't surprised to find the circumstances hadn't changed. But, unlike with everyone else, Hermione couldn't take her wandering eye off of him. Her lids were narrow, and her gaze curious, it didn't take Draco long to become very annoyed.

"Look, have I don't something, in all of my silence, to offend you?" His voice was soft, but laced with the anger that was boiling in his gut. "Because if you want me to leave I will, far be it from me to destroy this strange post-coital bliss you seem to be enjoying over my unfinished eggs."

At this Hermione giggled, but then turned in George's arms to look at him strait. There was no telling what she was thinking, the smile on her lips was evident, but Draco couldn't tell if she found the situation relaxing and funny, or if her husband was just good in the sack.

"Harry left," she began, "he said he had to pick up one last check at his agent's place. He looked kinda mad, what happened between you two while George and I were…er…otherwise engaged?" She face grew sheepish at her slip up. "He mentioned something about Kameron as he left, did you bring him up?"

Draco assessed the situation, he could lie, he could feign indifference, or he could get on the good side of his new housemates and be truthful. He chose option 'C'.

"Actually, Harry brought him up. I asked him about his love life, and that's where the answer led. I don't know why he gave the information away so easily; it was like all he wanted was to share. I seriously don't get the boy. I've only known him for two days and he's gone through more human emotions than I have in the past two years! Is there something wrong with him?"

"No, there's nothing wrong with him!" Replied George, "He's just…" he paused "different."

"How different?" Draco queried, "Please, anything you can share with me about him would be much appreciated. I just want to know all I can, I've never been more attracted to, or curious about, one person in all my life!" He was being honest, he just hoped that they saw that.

"Well," Hermione looked around, as if checking for spies that may eavesdrop on them from the walls, "Harry may hate me for saying this but…he's sick." She seemed a little scared to admit it, as if these mere words could put her on the devil's shit list. Something in her eyes said she was, really, trusting him by saying this.

"How sick?" Draco's eyes narrowed and he leaned back into a deep armchair, preparing himself for, what might be, some very depressing news.

"Not like deathly ill or anything," George said, "so don't be worried. He's schizophrenic."

Hermione judged by the confusion on Draco's face and proceeded accordingly. "Look, when Harry was just a baby, about one, he and his parents were in a terrible car accident, that's how he got that funny scar on his forehead. There was significant damage to his brain but the doctors saved him, with minimal risk of future cerebral deterioration." She took in a heavy breath. "His dad wasn't so lucky. He was paralyzed, in a wheel chair for 13 years! Only a couple years ago he had a massive stroke, and we lost him. That's when it started."

"When what started? I still don't really understand."

"Look, mate," George continued, Hermione's eyes had gotten misty. "The doctors think the trauma of his dad's death is what did it. It triggered the schizophrenic behavior. Now, when he sleeps, his brain doesn't dream like normal people's do. He can have conversations with himself and he moodswings easily during the day. The reason he's given away such privileged information so easily is because he has lost a lot of inhibition about emotional situations. He's not afraid to feel the pain he feels."

"He says it reminds him he's still human." Hermione finally finished, "Look, don't tell Harry okay? His condition is one of the only things he likes to keep a secret, talk to him if you want to, but don't drag us into it, like I said, Harry might hate me for it."

Just then the door burst open and slammed closed, from the entranceway an angry cry sounded. "FUCK!" Hard foot steps came towards the room and the three confidants looks at each other, had Harry somehow found out what they were talking about in there?

A pair of angry green eyes met each of theirs in turn before Harry finally spoke again.

"They're in Bermuda!" He cried, "Mom, Narcissa and Aunt Cece are in fucking BERMUDA! What the hell are we supposed to do now?

A/N: Another chapter down, my first in almost a year, and I can't believe how easy it was to write. I guess this little scene was just waiting for the right time to burst from my head. Well I hope you enjoy it, I thought it sounded pretty cool.

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