Draco woke slowly from his dream of perfection. His mother and father stood beside him and strove to keep the evil dark lord away, their love for him greater than their fear of his dread magic. The sound of Greensleeves being sung close by is what woke him; it seemed to fill his heart with both yearning and peace. He carefully turned towards the softly sung words, and only just managed to stifle a gasp upon seeing Harry Potter beside him. Potter was the one singing the old kings song.

Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
to cast me off discourteously.
For I have loved you well and long,
delighting in your company.

Draco wanted to hold onto the dream. He wanted to believe that his parents had loved him half so well as Potters had. Potters parents had died to protect him; they hadn't given him over to Voldemort to save themselves. Potter knew what it was to be loved. His Muggle guardians may hate him, but the Weasleys loved him as one of their own.

Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
and who but my lady greensleeves.

Draco knew, as Harry probably didn't, that King Henry VIII had written the song Greensleeves for Anne Boleyn, his second wife and the first wife to be executed. The melancholy tune comforted Draco, however, so he listened quietly to Harry's surprising baritone voice. Draco didn't feel the hot tears that seeped from his burning eyes down his fevered cheeks. Harry looked up at some sound Draco must have made and deep, intense, emerald green eyes met bright, burning, ice blue eyes. For that one moment, Harry and Draco weren't enemies, weren't opposite knights on a chessboard, but were merely two boys who had suffered. The silence stretched out between them, and it wasn't charged or uncomfortable. There was no sense of waiting for the taunting and baiting to start, there was just camaraderie. Then they both took a deep breath.

"I won't ask how you're feeling, Malfoy;" Harry said, without any trace of malice in his voice. "I'm quite sure you're feeling awful." Since that had to be the understatement of the year, Draco merely snorted softly.

"Professor Snape and I have healed as much of the damage Voldemort did as we could with you unconscious," Harry went on matter-of-factly. There was compassion, but not a lot and Draco was grateful there was no pity in his voice or his expression. "We have been waiting for you to wake up to be sure we didn't hurt you worse," Harry kept looking in Draco's eyes in an effort to keep Draco from panicking. "I'll go get Mione to bring you some food," there was a bit of humor in his eyes and voice now; "at least Voldemort didn't hurt your face, Malfoy, otherwise you might not be able to eat solid food." As Harry rose and quietly left, Draco found himself chuckling at that kindness as well.

After a few moments, the door opened quietly once more and Draco turned, starting to say that was fast, only to stop when he beheld the largest boy ever. He was easily bigger than both Crabbe and Goyle put together. Draco had a feeling he should know this boy, with his piggish eyes and very round body, but couldn't place him somehow.

"Oi, you're awake!" the boy said genially. Somehow Draco got the feeling that this boy was normally a bit like Crabbe and Goyle in more than looks.

"Who are you?" Draco asked hoarsely.

"Dudley Dursley," he replied. Draco couldn't stop the gasp, and the pain that came with it startled him. Dudley seemed to realize it, though, and quickly brought over a cup with a straw. "Be careful of talking, and don't breath too deeply nor too fast," he held the cup close without trying to drown Draco. He was a lot more competent than his size would lead one to believe. "Harry ad to tell that Professor Snape what all e saw an I was ere for it," again, Draco saw compassion, but no pity. This Dursley fellow seemed to understand a little better than Draco thought he should have. "So, keep your breathing steady, but no deep breaths, eh? It'll stop the gag reflex." Dudley let him finish his drink and get settled on the bed, hovering without smothering. When Draco was settled, Dudley sat in a chair he had moved to face him at the foot of the bed. He seemed to understand that Draco wouldn't have been comfortable with anyone too close to him.

"Harry is trying to get some food together since Hermione and Ginny went off with Ginny's mom to buy supplies for the house and stuff for school. Harry is a good cook," Dudley stopped suddenly, as if he was afraid that was the wrong thing to say. Draco merely looked at him, not knowing if it was or not, since Draco didn't really know Harry all that well.

"Well, anyway, I can't go downstairs since I'm a…well, not able to use m-ma-magic," Dudley looked frustrated and ashamed all at once and Draco wondered why.

"So you're a Muggle?" Draco whispered. Dudley nodded. Draco wanted to be disgusted, and found he didn't have the energy.

"I asked Hermione and Ginny how Harry had known what was done to you, but they wouldn't tell me, can you?" Dudley asked all of a sudden, he seemed truly concerned. Draco shrugged and said.

"After Lord Voldemort killed Harry's mother, he tried to kill Harry," Dudley's eyes crossed in shock. "Because his mother had died protecting him, Harry was able to survive the attack." Dudley looked as if something was becoming suddenly very clear.

"It was a very old and powerful blood charm his mother cast when she died, and it was a very powerful killing curse Lord Voldemort used to try and kill Harry. The curse backfired, and Lord Voldemort and Harry have been connected ever since," Harry would have been surprised to know that Draco knew so much. Of course, Professor Snape had told him most of it. What he hadn't learned from Snape he had learned from Voldemort himself, as well as from the books he read over the summer to improve his dark magic skills.

"That means, basically, that whenever Lord Voldemort is particularly angry or excited, He forgets to block his thoughts from Harry and Harry can then see and hear what is going on with Lord Voldemort," Harry was walking in with a heavily laden try at this time. He looked a little startled to find out Draco knew that much. Draco went on, shocking Harry even more.

"I don't think he knows just how much you actually see and hear. I think Voldemort only thinks you see a little of what He sees." Harry placed the tray across Draco's lap and sat in the wing chair near the window, once again giving Draco room to be comfortable, but being close enough to be heard without having to raise his voice too much. Harry seemed to consider this thought for a moment. He started to nod.

"I can see that," he said thoughtfully. "It would explain why I get so much detail during the "visions" for sure," Harry wasn't railing at Draco, wasn't claiming that Draco could have no idea what he saw or anything. Draco wondered what had happened to the Gryffindor he knew and hated. Harry must have seen the confusion on his face, because he grinned engagingly at Draco.

"I can't say I like you, Draco Malfoy, but I can say I don't hate you," he looked at the blond earnestly. "We are kids now, but we were so much younger five years ago," his gaze turned inward for a moment. "You believed in your father, and in what your father believed in. If you still do, then once you're healed up we'll send you back, because you deserve a choice," Harry turned his bright, intelligent green eyes back onto Draco. "However, if you don't, we'll; Professor Snape and I; find a way to keep you safe until you can fight for yourself!" his words were earnest and hard, and the emerald of his eyes had turned into the iciest fire that Draco had ever seen.