Disclaimer: I do not own any characters created by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

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~April~

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Green eyes narrowed over the breakfast table.

He had been forced into this. He could already see the cogs whirring inside that little head, but Sirius had forced him to 'play nicely' while he and Lupin buggered off for some meeting at the school. It was 7pm and Harry had been a sweltering whimpering mess. He had experienced at least and a year and a half growth-spurt overnight. Sirius had been lounging in bed with him all day, making sure he didn't run a fever or feel the urge to vomit. Around midday the kid had managed to stomach some toast, which everyone had taken as a good sign.

Draco himself had set up an alarm on both Harry and Teddy's room in case either one of them required anything. Until said alarm went off, he intended to practice magic. The evening session with Weasley and Hermione had definitely given him a little boost of confidence. That wasn't to say that all his spells went perfectly; there were one or two cock-ups that he didn't even plan on telling his cousin, however, he persevered and was beginning to feel that excitement whenever he would cast a spell when he was younger.

He'd missed that.

He had practiced for most of the afternoon. At about 4pm he'd decided to stop and spend some time with Teddy. The kid was toddling around quite happily now and was learning to say a few words. His hair flashed bright blue whenever he seemed to be happy, which amused Remus to no end. Draco had also peeked in on Harry, but the kid had been asleep, slumped over Sirius' stomach. The older man had an arm draped around the boy, a book held in his other hand. Upon seeing Draco, he raised a finger to his lips and winked.

Now? Well he didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do NOW!

Sirius had managed to get Harry to shower and brush his teeth before he and Remus had been summoned to Hogwarts on a Saturday. Draco had been tempted to owl for Hermione to come over, but he didn't think it was a good idea just yet. He didn't want to smother Harry with too much at once.

"So you're that blonde boy I met in Madame Malkins?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Yes, I am."

"The one who was all snotty and rude about Hagrid?"

Draco fought the urge to argue. "Yes ... that was me."

"You insulted Ron and his family."

Draco sighed. This was not going well at all.

"You realise he was my first friend in the whole world?"

"I ... I didn't know that at the time," Draco hedged. "It was rude of me to say those things."

"Because you didn't mean them, or because I remember that you said them?"

Draco dropped his head and raked a hand through his hair. "Both, I suppose," he admitted. "I was an arrogant little git back then. I thought that just because my Dad had connections and money that it meant I was better than everyone else."

"And you don't think that way anymore?" Harry narrowed his eyes even further as he glared up at the blonde.

"A lot of things have changed since then. I made a lot of bad decisions." At Harry's confused look, he sighed. "You'll ... You'll remember a fair few of them. Unfortunately."

Harry sighed and toyed with his glass of pumpkin juice. He was clearly warring this both sets of memories. He remembered Draco as a young, pompous little shit, but he also remembered things like sharing a blanket fort and watching 'The Lion King' on repeat in their lounge. Draco felt his heart twist as Harry screwed his mouth up and leaned back in his chair.

"So you don't think that Ron is 'the wrong sort'?" Harry challenged.

"I ... No. He has done a lot of things that were very brave. Braver than I was ever able to be. I respect him for that and what he has done for the wizarding world."

Harry nodded although there was a part of him that clearly didn't grasp the sheer magnitude of what the Golden Trio had gotten up to in the last year or so. "And you don't think that Hermione is a know-it-all?"

"Of course I do," Draco snorted despite himself. "But in a good way!" he hastened to add as Harry's green eyes turned thunderous. "She thought of some ideas and spell-work that most others our age wouldn't even be able to dream of in the next ten years. It's a good thing to be as smart as her. She just needed to learn a little self-restraint back in school."

Harry furrowed his brow, clearly not satisfied. "What about Hagrid? Is he still an oaf?"

Draco clicked his tongue. "He's a unique sort of person. Definitely not suited as a gamekeeper. I feel like he's wasting his talents. But he's happy, so I can't fault him for that."

"Are you happy?"

"Don't be absurd, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes, etching a groove into the tabletop with his thumbnail. "Why on earth would I be happy cooped up all day?"

Harry didn't answer. He was chewing on his bottom lip as he stared down at the table between them. Draco felt the urge to reach across and take the young boys hand in his own, to offer some form of comfort. He refrained, knowing full well it wouldn't be well received. "Why did you want to be friends with me?"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"Before the sorting hat. You offered me your hand and I refused it." Draco winced; hearing it said so blithely made him feel sick to his stomach. "Why did you want to be friends with me?"

Draco licked his lips. He remembered that moment so easily; the humiliation he felt in front of everyone he'd be sharing classes with for the next six years, the sting of jealousy and outrage as well as the resentment that quickly swooped in to poison his tongue. Trying to calm himself, Draco took a long swig of his pumpkin juice, cringing at the taste. He never had liked the stuff much.

"Back then," he said deliberately, looking up to make sure that Harry was listening. "I wanted to be your friend but not for good reasons. I thought it would be great to have a famous friend. However," he noted how Harry cringed at the word 'famous'. "That was wrong of me. You had every right to tell me to get stuffed. I don't think I would have wanted to be friends with me, either."

"You were rather rude," Harry conceded, almost shyly. He glanced up at Draco through his glasses, but the anger had subsided. "But you're not the same as you used to be."

"No, I'm not."

"Because I don't think THAT Draco Malfoy would have let Sirius anywhere near him, or let me watch whatever I wanted on TV."

"No, I probably wouldn't have," Draco chuckled. He still felt wary; as though any wrong move or word would set Harry off. "Sirius explained everything to you, didn't he? About your age and what happened?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, before narrowing his eyes again. "That's why I'm thinking you must have changed a lot to even be sitting here with me."

"I've had to grow up a lot. Do things I regret. See things I wish I could have stopped, but couldn't. I've made a lot of bad choices, Harry."

Pressing his lips together, Draco bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. The last thing he needed was for Harry to witness him crumble and break down in front of him. His heart was drumming loudly in his ears. He could feel his wand hand trembling. He was dimly aware of the sound of a chair scraping back. He jumped out of his skin, almost colliding with Harry as the young boy wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders and awkwardly leaned his head against the blonde's head.

"I probably made a load of mistakes too," Harry murmured into the feather soft hair. Draco tensed in his arms, forcing himself to listen. "Otherwise why would I be eleven years old when I'm meant to be eighteen?"

"You were always a bit reckless," Draco murmured wetly.

Harry squeezed gently. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. I just ... It's all very confusing. I remember being at the Dursley's but I also remember being here. It ... clashes."

"I can imagine."

Letting go, Harry took a step back on the tiled floor. Thankfully, it was warm underfoot otherwise he'd have had to run up and grab some socks. He wasn't sure if Sirius had resized his clothes, or if he had left them to fit baby Teddy now that he was tearing all over the place like a turquoise Tasmanian devil. He turned back to Draco who had managed to compose himself. "Would it be ... Would it be okay if I owled Ron and Hermione?"

"Er .. no, that should be fine."

"Brilliant! I'll just send Hedwig and-"

Draco looked up. Harry had frozen halfway up the steps into the hallway. His mind was catching up with him, snatches of his previous life and new life meshing together into an awkwardly woven pattern. He may not know the exact nature of Hedwig's absence, but it was there nestled deep in his mind. Clearing his throat Draco said, "Your Dad's owl, Archimedes is in the study on the third floor. He's much quicker for post, if you want a quick reply."

Giving Draco a strained smile over his shoulder Harry nodded. "Thanks. I'll be quick. Where can I find you after lunch?"

"Most likely in the cellar, brewing Remus' wolfsbane for the end of the month. Or, I might be in Sirius' new practice room on the third floor."

"Okay, I'll try not to be too long!"

"Relax, Potter. It's a Saturday and I'm literally not allowed to go anywhere."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Oh, I don't like that."

"What?"

"You calling me 'Potter'. I'm used to you calling me 'Harry'."

Draco rolled his eyes, some of the tension ebbing out of his body. "I'll call you whatever I like, brat. Now go and write your damned letter."

"Still not a morning person, eh?"

"Sod off!"

Harry had the gall to laugh as he raced off up the staircase, the door swinging shut behind him. Draco slumped down over the table and clawed his hair through his hands. Not only had that been the most awkward conversation he'd ever had with the boy, but the little shit had a way of dragging words out of Draco's mouth before he could think about them. He loathed that. He had to be careful with what he said from no one. Anything that triggered an episode for Harry right now, was only going to end badly for the both of them.

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"Pass me that spanner. The one by your left foot," Sirius grunted, waving his hand blindly for said tool.

Draco sighed and handed the stained tool to his cousin, his head not once coming up from under that muggle death trap. Arms crossed over his chest, Draco leaned back on the tool strewn wooden bench behind him, his eyes roaming around the garage at the back of the garden. Muggle tools in various states of rusting hung on wooden pegs in the wall. A fair few of them looked like medieval torture devices. Some twisted, some crunched and others were just a slender handle of metal with oddly shaped heads that did different things. He tried to remember the names of each of the ones Sirius requested, but he hadn't been at such a loose end since he'd taken up potion making for the first time with Snape at the manor.

The grinding of metal on metal set his teeth on edge.

"What exactly are you doing under that contraption?" Draco could barely keep the sneer out of his voice.

"I'm making some adjustments for when the winter comes in. Can't have Remus worrying after me all day and night." Draco rolled his eyes but remained silent. After several minutes of Sirius grunting, his arms working away at the underside of his monstrosity, he finally wriggled out from underneath and stretched his cramped muscles out. Grabbing a rag, he wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to get the worst of the grease stains off his hands. "So, you want to tell me why you're hiding out here with me instead of being inside with people your own age?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Draco clenched his jaw. "I would rather not get in the way of those three bonding. Besides, Harry is older now and remembers them. He ... He can spend more time with his own friends."

Grey eyes scrutinized him. "Draco, there's no need for you to feel jealous you know?"

Draco scoffed. "Maybe I just don't want to be around a bunch of Gryffindorks while they jog his memory."

"It isn't about jogging his memory," Sirius said. "He has the memories. They just clash with the last nine months that he's lived with us."

Swallowing thickly, Draco waved his cousin's concern away. "Look, I didn't come here for a lecture on Potter. I came here to get acquainted with this ... what did Remus call it?"

"A muggle metal deathtrap that leaks more fluids than a desperate Hufflepuff?"

"Yeah. That."

Tying his hair back out of his eyes, Sirius grinned at his cousin. "Time to get your hands dirty, kid."

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He honestly didn't know how it happened. One minute he was sleeping fitfully in the weak light before dawn officially crept up onto the earth, and the next, his door was banging open and something thick, warm and decidedly muggle was thrown onto his head.

"What the -?"

"Get up, kid. We're gonna break in some new ground today!" Remus grinned, somewhat manically, from the doorway.

Forcing himself to sit up, Draco glowered up at the man. The thick duvet was coaxing him backwards and he barely had time to blink before said duvet was ripped off him. He yelped, hunching against the cold. "What the fuck, Lupin!" he sneered.

"We're going to get you active again, young man. It's a decent day out right now. We're going to go jogging."

"Wh-y-y-y?"

"You've been cooped up in this house with your nose in a book for too long. Now put those on and meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes."

Draco glared as the bedroom door closed as quickly as it had swung open. Reluctantly, he dragged the loose clothing over himself, stuffed his feet into a pair of muggle trainers -seriously? He wrinkled his nose as the rubber soles squeaked on the floorboards. Why the hell would muggles wear something so hideous? It's like they were asking wizards to make fun of them. Grabbing his wand, he casting a warming charm on the clothes before tugging the hood over his head to ward off the chill -and to hide his bright blonde hair from any potential Prophet reporters prowling about.

Remus was waiting for him, standing just outside the wards of Number Twelve. They shivered as Draco passed through them. He felt exposed, out on the pavement. As though eyes were peering at him from behind net curtains. He tugged his left sleeve down, holding the cuff in his hand.

"You ready?" Remus asked, tugging his own hood up.

"I guess."

"Good, try to keep up."

Draco would never admit it to anyone, but he was both shocked and impressed at how fast Remus could run. For a man who looked as though he were dragging a trunk full of galleons on each leg, as soon as he started running, there seemed to be no stopping him! His long legs carried his effortlessly down the pavement. It was almost like he was running on air, his feet barely made an impression on the leaf-strewn ground. Draco's lungs burned with the effort to catch up after such a large head-start.

They did manage to find a good rhythm after a short while. They made it to a park about three miles away before the stopped for a water break. Draco denied out loud just how out of shape he really was. If this was to be a regular thing, he supposed he could see the appeal. With their water bottle shrunken down and tucked into Remus' hoodie, they set off again back towards Grimmauld Place.

Traipsing into the front door, the wall of warmth and magic tingled as Draco shuddered. Remus closed the front door behind them, breathing heavily. He grinned and clapped Draco on the back. "Not bad for your first time. You should have seen Sirius and James try to keep up with me; hilariously useless at running on two legs."

Draco gave a wan smile as he raked a hand through his hair. The smell of cooking came from the kitchen and both men's stomachs growled. They chuckled before going down into the kitchen. Sirius was dancing along as he flipped some pancakes over in the pan, the muggle radio at a normal level. Draco was used to seeing his cousin prancing around in loose muggle clothes with his dark curls bouncing along to the music. When he saw them, he grinned before flicking his wand at the radio. "So, how was the run?" he smirked.

"We ran."

Sirius rolled his eyes and turned to Draco, eyebrows raised. "Well? Were you able to keep up with him."

"I managed," Draco said.

"Better than you did anyway," Remus smirked, sinking down at the table and grabbing the crispy bacon and pouring himself a black coffee.

Sirius scoffed and levitate two more plates over to the table before sitting down. They ate and, when the post arrived, discussed what was to be happening in the lead-up to exams at Hogwarts. Draco asked if he would be taking his exam at the school, as per all the other students, but to this neither of his guardians had an answer. They looked as perplexed as he felt. "I'll owl Minverva after breakfast," Remus decided. "Perhaps she knows more about the arrangements than we do."

Still, the thought of having to take his exams in the Ministry was enough to make his stomach churn.

"I er ... think I need a shower. I feel gross," he grimaced, pushing himself up and away from the table.

"Okay, don't forget that Hermione and Ron are coming by this afternoon."

Freezing at the door, Draco groaned. "Again? They were here yesterday, right? I didn't dream that?"

"No, Harry had a lot of questions and wanted to hear all about what he had originally done in his first year of Hogwarts," Remus shrugged. "Truth be told, even I hadn't known most of it."

At the unreadable look on the blonde's face, Sirius said, "Don't worry, Draco. They'll leave by the evening. Besides, I don't think it's such a bad thing that you hang out with people your own age."

"It's not like they were ever my friends. I don't have inside jokes with them, or share any good memories." He sighed, clawed a hand through his greasy hair. "I'm taking a shower. I assume I'll know when they arrive."

.

Practically slamming the bathroom door closed, Draco dumped his clean clothes on the toilet seat and clawed the sweaty muggle tracksuit off over his head. He wrenched the taps of the shower full blast, steam slowly permeating the air and fogging over every available reflective surface. Once the water was hot enough, Draco stepped under the spray and gasped. He hadn't realised how cold his skin had gotten.

As he lathered himself up with soap, he relaxed a little. He let his hands trail over his muscles and grimaced; he had been wasting away inside the house. Perhaps running with Remus would help him improve physically as well as giving his mind a break from the constant study? Time would tell. Scrubbing shampoo into his hair and rinsing it, eyes closed and head tipped back, he let his mind wonder to the upcoming exams and how, the last time he'd taken exams in that hall, a pair of impossibly green eyes had distracted him, causing his charm to fail and he received an 'E' instead of an 'O'.

Of course it had been Potter's fault. What else was Draco supposed to do when those green eyes had stared at him, causing every hair on his body to prickle?

The eyes and the open-look of wonder on Potter's face before Draco had met his eye and it had turned into a scowl -it remained burned into his brain.

Draco froze mid-conditioning as he felt a rush of arousal course through him. He grimaced as his cock twitched under the hot, frothy water running in rivets down his body. Shaking the thoughts aside, he tried to focus on something else, anything else, to will his boner away. As long as he didn't think of those eyes, that face, that body he would be fine.

A few minutes later it was clear that there was nothing for it; he grabbed his dick and, intending to end the matter quickly, wanked himself rather forcefully. It wasn't necessarily pleasurable, but the motions made him cum and he quickly washed away the evidence, ignoring the waves of desire he felt swirling in his belly. Twisting the hot tap off, he yelped as cold water hit him. Turning the tap off, he stepped out into the still steamy bathroom, dried himself off and then pulled on his warm, dry clothes. His hair was still damp and curling slightly at his jawline. He would need to ask Sirius to let him get his haircut next time they were in Muggle London together.

Feeling a little more confident, he used a spell Pansy had taught him years ago to dry his hair. Thankfully, it worked.

The distant sound of the floo roaring to life downstairs, made his body sag. Weasley and Granger were here. Perfect. Perhaps he could hide in his room? No, Hermione had no qualms about seeking him out and dragging him downstairs to be sociable.

"Guess I'm being sociable today," he sighed to himself. Dropping his clothes into the hamper in his bedroom -another muggle oddity -he tried to adopt a casual air as he went downstairs.

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Harry laughed brightly, almost doubling over on the sofa as Ron told him a hilarious story about how his brothers had transfigured his favourite teddy into a giant spider. Harry could imagine it so vividly that he couldn't help but laugh. Ron's instance for him to stop, only made him laugh more. Soon the other two had joined in. He had been learning a lot about his old-self. The old memories he had when he was eleven were somewhat alien to him; it was as though he were rewatching an old movie from behind a glass window. It all seemed to resonate within him; he remembered moments yet everything else seemed slightly fuzzy at the edges.

When they had spoken about how he had caught his first snitch ever in his mouth, he'd felt like someone had shoved him in the gut. The convulsion to throw up passed as quickly as it had arrived. They had also keeled over laughing at how embarrassed Hermione felt about setting Snape's robes on fire even though he was trying to save Harry.

"I still can't believe I did that," she murmured, her hands pressed to her lips. Her eyes were wide, staring off into the middle distance.

Harry took the time to appreciate how this older version of Hermione differed from her younger self; she was more confident, reserved in spouting off knowledge at every moment and was capable of joking around, which Harry couldn't remember her being at eleven. She was also rather pretty. Harry had seen the adoring way Ron looked at her and felt a little ... left-out, maybe?

"To be fair, Hermione, I'm pretty sure the entire student body wanted to set Snape's robes on fire," Ron shrugged. "You just lived the dream!"

"Thank goodness no one else found out," she smiled sheepishly. "I'm not even sure Snape knew."

"What didn't Snape know?"

All heads turned to the door where Draco stood. He was levitating a tray of drinks and snacks ahead of him and set it down on the coffee table. "Pardon for interrupting. I thought you might want something to drink."

"Cheers mate," Ron lunged for the jam tarts on the plate.

Hermione tutted before smiling at Draco. "Thank you, Draco. Join us, we were just remembering first year."

"Ah," he grimaced. "Perhaps I'd better go."

"Why?" Harry frowned up at him. Draco faltered in the doorway, eyes unsure of his next move. This image jarred with the snotty kid with the pointy nose and slicked-back hair that kept flashing through Harry's mind. "What did you do that was so bad?"

"Well um ..." he frowned. "What do you remember from first year?"

"I remember meeting you at Diagon Alley," Harry cocked his head to the side. "And I remember not shaking your hand. You reminded me of Dudley."

"Your ... your cousin?" Draco winced, feeling sick.

"Well he was a big pompous too. And rude," Harry shrugged. "I guess I didn't want to deal with more rude people."

Ron scoffed but a sharp jab to his ribs from Hermione, had him choking on a jam tart.

"I also remember the duel you didn't show up to," green eyes narrowed again. "Isn't that where we saw fluffy?"

"Fluffy?"

"Hagrid's three-headed dog," Hermione explained.

Draco's eyes flew wide. "That wreckless oaf had a three-headed dog? In the SCHOOL?! And Dumbledore ALLOWED it?!"

"It was probably Dumbledore's idea."

"Of course it was," he muttered darky. At Harry's glare he felt his stomach curl and twist inside him. Adopting as much of an arrogant expression as possible, he waved his hand dismissively. "Don't look at me like that, Potter. Hagrid was and is wreckless with the creatures he obtains and Dumbledore was so lacking in morals sometimes, it really is a wonder how he came to be Headmaster."

Hermione frowned and turned to Ron mouthing, 'Potter?'

"Anyway," he cleared his throat. "Now that you obviously remember enough, maybe Weasley can take you back to his house next weekend and have a game of Quidditch. See if you are as good as you remember."

Harry frowned before turning to Ron. "Could we really?" he grinned. "That would be great!"

As the two started discussing how best to set up a game and the strategies Harry remembers at the age of eleven, Hermione glanced over at Draco in the doorway. She frowned and mouthed, 'are you okay?' at him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew this was what was going to happen. As soon as Harry remembered him, the old him, they would be back to square one. It was only to get worse from this point. Yes it hurt him in ways he hadn't realised he could hurt, but that didn't mean he was going to give Harry, or Weasley, the satisfaction of seeing that it had gotten to him.

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Later that night, Draco stared up at the canopy above his bed. Sleep eluded him. The nearly-full moon pressed against the thick drapes, illuminating the room ever so slightly. If Draco bothered to turn, he'd be able to make out the wardrobe and bureau fairly easily, as well as the posts of his bed and the writing desk near the window. The fire in the grate had died down and Draco didn't have the energy to even attempt casting an 'incendio!' at it, so he let it be, allowing his room to grow cooler as the night wore on.

His wondered to his parents and how they were fairing. Draco refused to read the Daily Prophet as he was scared of reading that his father had been murdered in his cell. On the other hand, the man hadn't responded to his letter even though Draco had checked to see if his father was allowed to recieve letters. The Minister had insisted that Lucius could, in fact, get mail, but it was heavily monitored. That suited Draco just fine. That simply meant that his father didn't want to speak to him. That tore him up inside. Normally, he would have turned to his mother for comfort, but she was all the way in France and he had no way of knowing when he was next going to see her. He wasn't surprised that the Ministry had rejected her request to have guests for an entire week, as Granger had predicted, they simply couldn't spare the resources. Maybe if it was just for a weekend? He could always try.

Then there was the case of Potter getting more of his memories back.

Draco had been relieved that his potion had woked the morning after Potter had aged again. He'd walked into the kitchen rather sluggishly, his glasses now too small for his face, and definitely standing at least three inches taller than when he'd originally been eleven. He didn't look as scrawny as Draco had remembered him being in first year, either, which was a testament to his current upbringing. Draco had tried to quash the hope that wanted to jump about in his chest, but he refrained from letting it get the better of him. As soon as Potter had laid those brilliant green eyes on him ... well, the shock and confusion was too much to bear.

There was a knock at his door. Through the gloom, Draco watched as the black rectangle widened. Something shiny caught his eye. Sitting up, he frowned, "Wrong room, Potter. Sirius' room is the next one down."

The door closed and bare feet walked across the room until Harry was stood at the edge of Draco's bed. "I came to see you actually," he murmured, keeping his voice low.

"Why?"

"I -I don't really know," he admitted, rubbing awkwardly at his arms. "It's just ... I'm so confused. I remember you when you were eleven and now you're ... eighteen?"

"Yes. Nineteen in June."

"Bloody hell," Harry breathed. He raked a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to understand all of this."

"I know."

"It's difficult."

"I'm aware."

"Hermione ... Hermione says that you've changed. I want to believe her."

"Well, she is usually right about this sort of thing," Draco admitted drily.

"I know."

Draco hated that he could hear the smile in Harry's voice. Clearing his throat he said, "Well I'm glad things went so well with you and your friends. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep."

There was a pause. "Can I come in with you?"

"Wha-Why?!" Draco spluttered, sitting upright and glaring.

"I couldn't really sleep."

"So go and bother your dad then!"

Another pause. "Please?"

"For Merlin's sake!" Draco seethed before tugging the blankets aside. "Get in and keep to your side. If I feel any part of you touching me, I will hang you out of the window by your ankles, got it?"

Harry made a sound as though he was trying to stifle a laugh. "Uh y-yes, yes that's fine. Understood."

Draco grunted as the little shit had the nerve to climb over him to get to the empty side of the bed. To his credit, Harry actualy settled down fairly quickly, folding his small glasses up and tucking them underneath his pillow. It was oddly comforting to feel a warm presence in his otherwise cold room. Draco refused to let himself scoot closer, to cradle Harry against his chest, despite how easy it would be. It didn't help that he wouldn't know how eleven-year-old Harry would react to that, either, now that he was getting more of memories back.

His fears were answered when, not that long later, Harry turned in his sleep and found himself pressed up against Draco, his head resting awkwardly on the blonde's arm. With a sigh, the blonde extracted his arm and then hugged Harry against his chest, wriggling about until they were both comfortable. He ignored the way his insides twisted and his heart thud that little bit harder, making it tricky to breathe normally.

"Hey Draco?"

The voice -though whispered -made him jump. Swallowing thickly, he relaxed his grip on Harry. "What Potter?"

The kid shifted, so that he was leaning up a little, almost like he was straining to look Draco in the eye. "I know we had a lot of fights, and we were both idiots when we were kids."

Draco cocked an eyebrow through the dark. "I hope this is leading somewhere."

He could hear, rather than see, Harry laugh. "I guess ... I just think you're a nice guy. I like this Draco."

His chest felt tight. Why was he holding his breath, waiting for the backlash? "Okaaay ..." he hedged. "Uh ... thanks, I guess."

"I'm sorry I was angry at you."

Draco sighed. "It's ... fine. You remember me as a snotty, pompous brat. You're allowed to be confused by all this."

"Still though. You've been so nice to me. Playing quidditch in the back garden, helping me learn potions and having a blanket fort with me. I liked it."

"Good."

A pause. "You're mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Yes you are, you don't call me 'Potter' unless you're mad."

"It's late and I want to sleep." He could feel Harry tensing beside him. The the kid sighed and went to picking at the bedsheets. There was the hum of an unanswered question in the air and it made Draco's skin prickle. Sighing, he sat up. "What? What is it?"

"Why did you run away?"

"I just thought you wanted to spend some time with your friends."

"Not today," Harry swallowed. "Um ... I mean in the forbidden forest, when we had detention with Hagrid."

"Ah. Oh." The memories flashed through his mind; tall trees, fog, a dead unicorn and the creature with fangs that turned out to be - "Well, why didn't you run?"

"I froze up. Then I tripped on some roots. You ran off with Fang. You left me."

"To be honest, I thought you were behind me." Reaching across the blankets, Draco bravely grasped Harry's small hand. "When I realised you weren't, I tried to get Hagrid to you as fast as possible. Thankfully, that centaur showed up."

"So ... you don't hate me? You wanted to try and save me?"

"You're forgetting I was also eleven years old, Potter. What else could I have done except get a grown up?" Harry laughed quietly to himself. His voice sounded wet and Draco experimentally felt up towards his face and wiped at his eyes. His lashes were damp and he felt his heart twist painfully. Taking Harry's wrist, he gently pulled the kid down onto the bed with him, giving no pretence that they were to sleep on seperate sides. "Don't think you're getting out of potions tomorrow just because you may have cried," he warned lightly.

Harry sniffed through a laugh, cuffing his nose on his top. "Wouldn't dream of it." He gingerly wrapped his arm across Draco's stomach, as though afraid the blonde would change his mind. Draco draped his own arm over Harry's and settled comfortably on his pillow. "G-night Draco."

"Goodnight Harry."

.

The following morning Draco awoke to an empty bed, the cool sheets indicative that he had been alone for at least half an hour. Wrapped in his dressing gown, he made his way down to the kitchen for breakfast. When he walked in to see Sirius and Harry at the kitchen table eating cereal, Teddy munching away on a banana, he wondered if last night had been a hallucination. However, when Harry caught sight of him lingering in the doorway and smiled, a faint blush tinting his cheeks, Draco felt his stomach somersault. He smirked back, instantly liking the way Harry's pink cheeks darkened a little.

"Ah there you are Draco," Sirirus' voice snapped him out of his musings. "An owl came for you."

"An owl?" He frowned, reaching for the envelope address to him. Was his father finally writing back from Azkaban? The cursive writing on the front didn't belong to Lucius though. Turning it over, he noted that it was post-marked in France. Ripping it open he scanned his mother's letter quickly, checking for any words or phrases that triggered a sense of urgency or panic. Thankfully there was nothing. On his second read through, his breath hitched.

"What is it?" Sirius cocked an eyebrow at him, as he reached for the teapot.

"It's mother. She's gotten word from the Minister regarding the Easter holidays."

"And?"

"Well ..." he cleared his throat, still not believing the words himself. "Do you want to go to France for Easter weekend?"

A/N: Please leave some lovely reviews!

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