Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter series, or anything like that, so don't sue me! I'm poor and I'll cry profusely…

Warning: This fic does contain slash (Harry/Draco), though not extreme or immediate. If that doesn't appeal to you, this probably isn't the fic you should be reading right now… I know, I've said this all before, but anyway!

A/N: Woo! Chapter three! This is up earlier than I planned it- I should probably wait for a while, see if I get more reviews, but I've never been the patient type! Still, this speed is quite out of character, so don't get too used to it! Anyway, in this chapter, some pretty interesting stuff happens, and I think the two sort some stuff out. I mean, it was a bit much to hope for them to get along that well all the time, wasn't it? Fear not, all will be explained… By the way, thanks for all the reviews I've been getting! They're a real confidence booster, and I appreciate them all. Any more would be more than welcome! Sorry, I'm waffling a bit. I'll let you get on with the story. Hope you like it!

Day Three

After the drama of the previous morning, Harry was a little wary when he woke up. He'd sat up late last night, and he saw as he picked his watch up that he'd overslept. It was 10:27, and Harry had little doubt that Draco would now be enjoying breakfast. He barely seemed to eat, really, but perhaps that was merely from stress or something.

Harry thought distantly of school, and the enormous packages of sweets that Narcissa Malfoy used to send Draco. Would she still care for her traitorous son? Or had he been forced to renounce his familial ties along with Voldemort?

He suddenly recalled a terror-filled voice, tearing through the night. "I haven't got any options. I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!" Perhaps Draco had no mother to miss him now. It was a type of loneliness that Harry knew only too well, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone. Least of all Draco interjected that tiny voice inside him.

It occurred to Harry that it was too early for these thoughts. He stumbled out of bed and into the shower as fast as humanly possible. It felt like something had crawled into his throat and died there, vomiting profusely on the way. More worryingly, it felt like that all over. Definitely a moment for copious amounts of soap, he mused.

Having scrubbed and gargled enough to be semi-hygienic, Harry felt able to get dressed. He caught his reflection in the mirror and winced a little. He sighed inwardly, murmuring, "I'm no Malfoy, that's for sure."

He looked a little slouched and awkward, and his black hair was somehow even darker with water. His hand rose automatically, as it always did- wet hair just didn't look the same on him as it did on Draco, he thought, disappointedly.

Still, on the upside, he looked considerably healthier. His skin was tanned and smooth, as opposed to the aristocratic white of a Malfoy, and his body had lines of natural, Quidditch muscle. Actually, Harry thought, Draco wasn't nearly as skinny as he used to be, either. He was sort of lithe and lean- probably Quidditch as well. These are not healthy thoughts for a teenage boy, he reprimanded himself, shaking his head and putting on his glasses.

Harry spotted Draco at once when he was downstairs. He'd barely glanced around the room when he saw that shock of pale hair by the bay window. He sidled over calmly, trying to look like someone who hadn't spent most of that morning thinking about another boy. Who looks so good today as well came that annoying little voice again. Harry was seriously beginning to question his sanity.

It was infuriatingly accurate, though. As he sat down, Harry couldn't help but notice the quiet composure on Draco's face, in the absence of a sneer; his deep grey eyes, mirrors of the heavy sky outside; the delicacy and precision of his hands even as he did something as mundane as raise one in casual greeting.

"Morning," Draco said, bringing Harry blushingly back down to earth.

"Um, yeah, morning," he replied, intelligently.

Draco, of course, gave him a look, drawling, "Once more, your eloquence astounds me. I wonder whether you're actually passably fluent in English at times." Harry chose not to reply, and instead reached for some toast off Draco's plate.

"What?" he asked. "You haven't finished, and I can't be bothered to get any more," he said, by way of explanation, for he had received another questioning look. "What's the problem?"

Draco actually smiled, saying, "You're such a Gryffindor," as though it was, naturally, a horrifically bad thing.

Harry got on with buttering his toast. Neither of them said anything for a while.

"You know," Harry said suddenly, breaking the silence, "I almost wasn't a Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat said I'd do well in Slytherin."

Draco stared across the table, eyes so wide it was almost comical.

"You- a Slytherin? Never!" he breathed, utterly shocked. "But- well, I guess you've always been a little darker, a little more distant, but- you? A Slytherin? No!" Harry laughed, and Draco looked a little affronted.

"Well, come on," he said, sounding more than a little annoyed. "You're James and Lily Potters' son. I know you've got some connection to Sirius black- don't look so shocked, you do get rather a lot of Harry Potter- oriented information as a Death Eater. He was your godfather or something, right? Either way, all Gryffindors!"

Harry glanced down momentarily, then said, "But it's obvious that a Malfoy would be in Slytherin, right?" Draco nodded, slowly, and Harry continued. "I'm not sure whether you've been told this, or whether a disowned relative is ignored entirely, or you're just too dumb to notice the surname but you're related to Sirius Black. He is- was- your mother's cousin, which would make you, what, his second cousin? Something like that? Either way, I don't think family necessarily determines which house you're in, or he would have definitely been a Slytherin."

Draco looked momentarily stunned, before managing to say, "I- I forgot, I guess." There was another period of silence, then he all but whispered, "I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't have been so bad."

Harry ate his toast, and said nothing.

It was a Monday, so most of the shops in Diagon Alley were closed- Harry had never actually found out what it was about Mondays, but that was irrelevant. The end result was that there was nothing to do.

It being a relatively cold day, Harry had decided to sit in front of the fire and write a few letters that he should really have done when he arrived.

Dear Ron, the first one began. How've you been doing? Sure you're ok without me there to hold your hand? Oh, wait- there's Hermione, isn't there. You and I both know that the potions had very little to do with her thoughts on the subject of one Ronald Weasley.

By the way, has anyone mentioned who won the bet? I'll probably just ask Fred or George about that one.

So anyway, there's not much to say but I thought I should send you this- Hedwig's always been a fast flier- just to let you know that I'm still fine and at the Leaky Cauldron, and to check that you're all still coming when planned.

See you soon. Harry.

"What's that all about?" Draco asked, leaning over Harry's shoulder to see the letter, quite shocking him.

"Oh- nothing important. Just a letter for Ron."

Draco looked suspiciously at Harry, and slowly said, "You haven't mentioned that I'm here, have you? I just can't wait to know their reaction and all, but I'd rather see it, for entertainments sake."

Harry held the letter away in a tantalising manner, a small grin on his face. Now he remembered the joys of teasing a Malfoy. He gave a small, evil chuckle, and said, "Maybe I have, and maybe I haven't."

Throwing himself over the back of the ancient sofa -which Harry was sure actually wheezed with the added strain- Draco grabbed for the letter. Clearly not about to give in that easily, Harry made a run for it, around the whole seating area, hoping that his seeker reflexes wouldn't fail him now.

It all ended when he tripped, most spectacularly, and Draco jumped onto him. Sat on Harry's chest, there was nothing to stop him grabbing the letter and reading it in a highly smug manner.

Apparently satisfied with the contents, he gave a small nod and returned the note to its rightful owner.

"The reason I have not yet extricated myself from your person- apart from that most amusing shade of pink you've gone, I'm assuming that's from the constricted airways- is that I must first interrogate you."

Harry gave a small cough by way of reply, but Draco continued, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was currently suffocating the person who was paying for his room.

"Number one," he began, "What is this filth about Granger and Weasley?"

Once again, Harry coughed.

"Very well, I'll move. But no running away."

Draco stood up, dusted himself off, and sat on the sofa, acting as superior as apparently possible. Harry sat next to him, still rather pink. Of course, he agreed with Draco that it was all due to the restriction of his bronchial tubes, and he would recover very soon.

"As I was saying. Number one, what is this filth about Granger and Weasley?"

Harry grinned momentarily in Draco's direction before replying, "Oh my, have your amazing deductive powers failed you? Where has your Slytherin slyness gone? They've liked each other for goodness knows how long, and have finally acted on it."

"I was, of course, aware of their overly friendly conduct, but didn't think it had progressed beyond childish shyness and semi-subtle glances. This is most distressing indeed, but leads quite nicely onto my second question."

He cleared his throat, in a professional sort of way. "Number two, how did this heinous thing occur? Did one or both of them receive a head injury?"

After a minimal amount of glaring, Harry conceded, "No, but Hermione did go into anaphylactic shock. She only told him what she felt after hefty doses of some restorative potions left her a little disoriented. But that hardly matters."

Draco was, by this point, laughing most cruelly, but managed to choke out, "Well, I guess sometimes it takes a truly traumatic event to get someone to act on what they feel. But I mean, really, an allergic reaction? Granger needing to be effectively high to confess? This does not bode well for their relationship at all. Not that I care, of course, but it should be amusing to see."

Harry gave him a little shove, and continued writing his letters.

With hindsight, Harry could see that the events of that evening were probably inevitable, that him and Draco getting on so well couldn't last indeterminately. Nevertheless, at the time, all he knew was that he didn't want it to happen.

The end of the day had started promisingly enough, all things considered. Some of the letters Harry had been writing had been the kind he had been struggling with all summer, the kind that he had to write but didn't want to. They were generally concerning one of two things: any clues about the horcruxes, or the whereabouts of people who they really wanted to join the Order. Of those they'd found so far, three had been dead.

Such a thing can be quite defeating, but Harry had learned to cope enough now that it hadn't really affected him as the evening drew in. In fact, he was almost happy. However, he then received a letter that put a swift end to his fragile feelings of contentment.

He was sitting by the window, looking out at the other world that was Muggle London, when Tom walked over to him holding a letter.

"This just arrived for you, Mr. Potter," he wheezed, handing over a small envelope addressed in green ink. "The owl is still waiting. Will there be a reply?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you," replied Harry, distantly, handing over the un-enjoyable letters he had earlier penned. Tom bowed and left, leaving Harry to open the letter.

He already knew that it was from a member of the Order, hence the ink, and presumed it had to do with some of the business he'd been involved in. His heart beat a little faster. Perhaps it was to do with the recent promising development in their search for the horcruxes?

However, upon opening, Harry found that it was regarding the three people they had been searching for recently. It read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

I'm sorry if this letter appears rather rushed, but preparations for the upcoming school year are increasingly taking up my time. In short, it is regarding the three individuals we recently began searching for. Sadly, there has so far only been one positive result.

Martha Prewett has been found, and has most willingly joined the Order of the Phoenix. She was discovered living it North-Western Wales, helping on a sheep farm. It appears that many of her memories have been suppressed, but upon prompting, she was able to reveal that she began living there when forced to leave Scotland due to the Death Eaters' attack on her family. But of course, you know all about that by this time.

Secondly, and far less promisingly, we have found no trace of Draco Malfoy. We have heard a rumour -though it is no more than that- that he has fled the Death Eaters. I know that this case is of special interest to you, and you are no doubt aware of the danger this course of action would have placed him in. I can assure you that we will contact you immediately should we find any clue of his whereabouts.

Finally, and most upsettingly, is news on Narcissa Malfoy. She was recently discovered in a small farm in the East of England, some two hundred miles from her family's manor. She, along with the residents of the farm, had been killed by use of the Avada Kedavra curse. It is with regret that I must inform you of this, but it does add weight to the story of Master Malfoy's flight. If he has indeed left lord Voldemort's side, it is important that we discover exactly when, in order to determine whether her death was before or after this incident.

I will contact you again shortly, as you are no doubt aware, and immediately should any especially important events occur.

Sincerely, Professor Minerva McGonagall

The letter slipped from Harry's hands, onto the table. As it slid downwards, it left a long paper cut. The blood welled up, an angry red line across his left palm, interrupting his lifelong reminder not that he must not tell lies, but he did not react.

Narcissa was dead. How could he tell Draco? Perhaps he already knew, in which case Harry couldn't understand why he hadn't told him already. Either way, he wasn't sure how to react to something like this.

His hands dropped into his lap, and he sat there, practically frozen to the spot. He couldn't even move when he heard Draco approach behind him.

"What's the matter? Have you seen a ghost or something?" Draco enquired, before leaning down to pick up the letter. Coward- do you really want him to find out like that? Harry whispered inside himself- but he couldn't seem to get his mouth to work, to precede the harsh news Draco was about to get with some word or warning.

He watched as the blond boy scanned the letter, impassive for the first part, lip curling slightly with the irony of the second, face abruptly becoming impassive as he reached the third. He didn't react at all, just carefully placed the letter on the table and sat down opposite Harry.

There was a long pause. Harry couldn't seem to lift his gaze from the table, though he still felt like a coward for doing so. At the least, he should say something.

"I'm- I'm so sorry, Draco. I only just got it," he managed.

Draco seemed now to be having some difficulty breathing, and it took some discernable effort to choke out his next words.

"It isn't your fault, Harry. It's okay. I guess I'd just hoped that she would be safe there, and now I know that she- she wasn't."

I guess it happened after he ran Harry thought, perhaps a little unfeelingly, but he was still somewhat shocked. Hadn't he wondered just the other day what would happen to Narcissa now Draco had fled the Death Eaters? It seemed like such cruel irony.

"So, this did happen after you left the Death Eaters, then?" he enquired, trying to sound as non-invasive as possible. Draco nodded numbly.

"It must have been to punish me for running. She told me I should leave. I'd failed another mission- there was no way he would've let me off. I was so terrified of him; I just did as she said. She told me she knew somewhere she'd be safe, and that father would be fine, what with being in Azkaban." He looked up at Harry and, and a frown passed across his features.

"What is it?" Harry asked, perplexed.

Draco continued to stare at him, and then continued, "Wasn't she under your protection? I thought, what with Dumbledore suggesting it and all, that- I mean, you were there, on the tower. You said you were, didn't you?"

"I- yes, I was. I was there, and I know Dumbledore said we'd keep her safe, but that was only if you joined our side-"

Draco rose abruptly. "You mean, just because Severus killed him and dragged me away before I could even reply to his proposition, you let my mother get murdered?" His voice was filling with a bitter fury, and there was nothing Harry could do to stop it. He understood only too well the feeling of helplessness that followed the death of someone close to you. Hadn't he reacted in almost exactly the same way when Sirius died? He had learned, now, but this was quite possibly the first time Draco had been forced to endure something quite like this.

"You just let her die, because I didn't run in time? Didn't any one of you even stop to think that I probably wouldn't want to stick with the Death Eaters having just failed a mission so spectacularly, having had my whole family threatened if I didn't succeed?"

The few people scattered around the room were staring openly by this point, and one actually screamed as Draco upturned the table at which he and Harry had been sitting, sending the letter sliding across the wooden floor.

"This is your fault!" Draco shouted pulling his wand on Harry. "You were there, you should have told your stupid Order what they should do. You've let my mother die, Potter!"

Harry slowly pulled out his own wand, only too aware that Draco had once almost used an Unforgivable on him. "Draco, please-" he began, in a vain attempt to reason with him.

"No! Shut up, there is nothing, nothing you can say. You killed my mother, you let them kill her, I'll kill you!"

He raised his wand, eyes full of silver flames, and began to form a word, but-

"Stupefy!" Harry screamed. There was a flash of red light, and Draco flew backwards, hitting the wall with enough force to knock a chunk of plaster out.

Harry lowered his wand and stood, staring at the boy's prone form. He hadn't wanted to do that, but he knew what could've happened otherwise. He had no idea how Draco would be when he came to, but he sincerely hoped that, as with Harry himself, a physical shock would bring Draco to his senses.

Perhaps Harry should have seen it coming. Nevertheless, when reading the letter, all he knew was that he didn't want it to have happened. Childish as it may seem, he couldn't make himself think beyond that.

Harry sat with Draco until he came to, which was somewhere around 11pm. He hoped, as he saw his eyes beginning to open, that he had calmed down by this point. Still, he was taking no chances.

He leaned over the almost awake boy, and whispered to him an explanation of what had happened.

"Draco," he murmured, "Please, let me say this.

"Yes, I feel incredibly guilty about not doing more for Narcissa, but I'm not an idiot; I knew -hoped- you might run, and I didn't just leave her to be killed. I'm sorry I didn't say sooner. Your mother was being constantly followed, up to a point about 30 miles from her destination. She noticed her followers then, and ended up drugging them. Needless to say, many sceptics from the Order were shocked she hadn't just killed them and had done with it.

"By the time they awoke, she was gone- I got a letter detailing the incident two days ago. Apparently before they found her again, some Death Eaters did. I'm so, so sorry, but please, don't think badly of the Order for this. I know –and I mean that, I know- how painful this is, and how much hate you must feel for the people who let her die, not just the people who killed her.

"I'm sorry. I'll try to learn from this, to never let it happen to anyone else. That's all I can say, and hope against hope that you believe me when I say it."

Draco's eyes flickered open and found Harry. He waited a moment before replying, "I forgive you, Harry. And I'm sorry, too. I almost did something incredibly stupid to you."

Harry laughed quietly. "Nothing to worry about. I'm good at duelling."

"And I'm glad of it," replied Draco. "I would never forgive myself if I hurt you, as well as everyone else I've hurt over the years. I've caused a lot of people a lot of pain, and I know I've- annoyed you a fair amount. I wouldn't want you to come to any more harm because of me."

Harry said nothing, and Draco continued, "Thank you, as well. For stupefying me before I did anything I'd regret. For explaining just then. For- for looking after my mother as best you could."

Harry thought briefly that he seemed to be getting thanked by Draco a lot recently, and he didn't feel he really deserved it. He appreciated it nonetheless, and said as much.

"No problem. And- thank you for forgiving my ineptitude, and, well, for thanking me and everything."

Draco laughed again, and said something about eloquence.

"You always bring that up," Harry said, smiling. "I don't really appreciate it, but since I just stupefied you, I'll let you off. Just this once, though."

Draco grinned up at him, and said, "I could take you anytime, as I so expertly demonstrated downstairs. Besides, it's abundantly clear from your choice of spell that you're nothing but a big wimp anyway. I was about to use an unforgivable, and you stupefied me? Honestly, how old are you?"

Harry laughed, and said, "You're clearly unstable. I'll leave you to get a bit more sleep, in the hope that it'll help you think more clearly."

"Alright. Night, Harry."

"Night, Draco"

He leaned forwards, then stopped abruptly, unsure of what he'd been about to do. Instead, he stood up, and said, "I'll let you know anything that happens as soon as I know it, okay? It was- it was unfair of me not to say that she was being followed. I should have told you."

"Like I said, don't worry about it."

Harry smiled, heart still beating a little too fast for his liking, and left for his room. Perhaps it was him who needed a little sleep to clear his head. His thought patterns regarding Draco at the moment were just not normal…

TBC