A/N: I'm getting SUCH fantastic reviews today that I figured hey, why not write another chapter? So.. woot!

To my reviewers:

Lilyseyes27: You're too kind. :)

Myniephoenix: Thank you, m'dear, I'm glad you like it. :)

Sefadora Firewood: No! Must… resist… chibi eyes…! Awwww, so kyooooot.. Okay, here's another chappy! It probably won't be fanTABulous, but it'll be decent I guess. :)

sOmEtHiNg - L1k3 – LauGhTeR: Thank you so much! I'm glad you like it!

HPDM luv: Thanks, hun, glad you think so. :)

Anyways… on to the story!

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Chapter 2: Day Two of Many!

Draco yawned and stretched, jerking when he felt his hand hit something soft and firm. His eyes flew open and he looked at what he hit, seeing a surprised yet amused Harry Potter holding a plate loaded with freshly cooked eggs, bacon, and toast.

"Good morning, Malfoy," Harry said kindly, setting the plate on the coffee table next to him. "Here's your breakfast. That plate better be clean before the food gets cold!" Harry smiled and walked toward the kitchen and started fixing his own plate, humming as he puttered around the kitchen. Draco sniffed appreciatively before grabbing the plate and attacking the warm, delicious food, groaning happily.

When Harry reappeared in the living room some 10 minutes later, Draco's plate was already clean, and Draco was looking relatively healthy. There was finally a little more colour in his too-pale cheeks; Harry was glad to see it so.

"So if you don't mind me asking, why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" Draco asked, the aristocratic drawl still colouring his voice.

"No reason, I guess. I just hate seeing someone dying on my doorstep," Harry replied blushingly, reaching to take Draco's plate back to the kitchen so he wouldn't see the real reason in his eyes. Draco narrowed his eyes, his mind working up a retort.

"Well I'm sure you'd be quite familiar with people dying, now wouldn't you, Potter?" Draco spat the name like a bad taste from his mouth. Harry glared at him from around the corner of the kitchen.

"You know, I didn't have to help you! I could've sent you to St. Mungo's, where they would've sent you to Azkaban for a while after hearing what you've done to so many innocent people!" Harry yelled, his face reddening. Why did he have to be such a prick?

"And just what, exactly, have I done?" Draco asked, dangerously quiet.

"You've killed too many innocent people, Malfoy, that's what. If not killed them yourself, led those who would kill them straight to them!" Harry was hesitating slightly by now, inching around the corner back into the living room.

"I didn't kill anyone, or helped people kill anyone! Didn't you see the bruises, Golden Boy? Those were punishment for not talking!" Draco cried, blushing furiously but refusing to stand down. Harry got right up in front of Draco and looked him straight in the eyes, trying to decipher whether he was lying or not. When he saw genuine pain in those silver pools from remembering what happened, he backed off, letting out a loud puff of air. He ran a frustrated hand through his messy black hair as he turned away, heading towards the kitchen to wash the dishes.

"What, don't have a witty comeback, Potter?" Draco called after him scathingly, sneering at Harry's cowardice.

"No, Malfoy, I don't. Do you know why? Because I know what you've been through. I put up with things like that, and so much more, when I was living with the Dursleys. Oh wait, you wouldn't know anything about that, now would you? Since you don't bother finding out about things like that! I'm tired of petty childish rivalries! I'm tired of having the same argument with you now that I had with you in our first year! It's stupid; it's a waste of time!" Harry threw down his towel from drying the dishes and stalked into another room. He came back out, tossed Draco's folded (now clean) clothes to him and headed toward his room.

"I'm done with it, Malfoy. If you're not going to drop it, I suggest you take those clothes and leave." Harry shut his bedroom door with a very final-sounding -snap- and Draco stared at the pile of clothes he instinctively caught against his chest. He gently placed the clothes on the couch and stepped lightly over to the bedroom door, knocking on it quietly.

"Potter… I can't leave. Voldemort's followers, though Voldemort himself is gone, are looking for me. They want to kill me, Potter. I know you hate me, but do you really want me dead…?" Draco stared at the door, scared and shocked that a tear was working its way out of his eye. /Please don't have him want me dead…/ Draco thought desperately. His heart sped up when he heard Harry walk toward the door and pull it open slowly. Harry's bright green eyes looked unearthly without his glasses, and right now they were full of frustration, sadness, regret, and something else… Draco couldn't place it. He'd never seen a look like that before. Almost like… hopelessness. The tear in Draco's eye finally worked its way out, sliding unhurriedly down his cheek. Draco wiped it away, sniffing loudly. "Potter… I kinda need you now. I need someone to take care of me and make sure I stay on this side of the grave."

"I guess… I guess I could do that," Harry said softly, staring at the floor now. Draco straightened, squared his shoulders, and wiped his nose with a Kleenex.

"In that case, then… Could we maybe do a little shopping? I didn't exactly pack before I left…" Draco quirked a half-smile, silver eyes shining. Harry smiled slightly before turning back to put on some real clothes.

"I guess so… But you can't wear my pajamas out! You have to put your clothes back on! And don't worry about money, I have plenty. I came upon a second inheritance on my 18th birthday, so I'm almost as rich as you!" Harry joked, tossing a generously full bag of what sounded and felt like galleons to Draco. Draco smiled and grabbed his clothes to head to the bathroom.

Things were going to be okay.

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A/N: Kay, this chappy's a little longer… Hope you enjoyed it! I just had to include a little argument, so whatever. Review! Yay!