Malfoy,

A word with you after charms? A nod will do. I'll meet you at Sir Xavier's painting at the end of the corridor.

Potter

Draco looked up from the small note in his hands to the meet the gaze of Harry Potter sitting across the room at the Gryffindor table. He studied the tousle-headed boy for a moment, and then gave an imperceptible nod. Satisfied, the boy returned the nod, a small smile quirking his lips, and returned to his breakfast.

Draco studied the note for a moment longer before carefully folding it and putting it in his pocket. He was well and truly surprised when the school owl had swooped down before him this morning. He rarely got mail anymore since the death of his father and the hospitalization of his mother. And the few pieces he did receive usually pertained to the Malfoy Estate or from the Ministry concerning the actions of his father.

He'd laughed as the small grey owl had flitted about his head before landing in his plate as if she'd owned it. She'd twittered a bit before thrusting her leg toward him imperiously, demanding that he take the note. A bit of bacon had appeased her and she'd nuzzled his hand momentarily before spreading her wings. She'd swooped around him once more, before disappearing out the doors of the Great Hall.

Draco sat back in his chair, pausing before taking a sip of his tea. He wondered why Potter hadn't just spoken to him directly as he was wont to do now. It wasn't unexpected that they would be on more civil terms since the time they'd spent together last fall, but he rarely sought Draco out for more than the odd Seeker's Challenge game, or to keep their stories straight about the demise of Voldemort. Not that Draco remembered much of it anyway, only oddly disjointed bits and pieces. He glanced over again at the Gryffindor, noting that he had a far away look on his face, similar to the one that Draco wore much of the time now.

Startled, he felt a soft touch on his arm. He looked at Pansy, tugging his arm now. "Draco, come on, we'll be late to class. I've been trying to get your attention. Come on now."

The blonde boy allowed himself to be pulled along to class, the chatter of his classmates washing over him. Sighing, he wondered what Potter wanted, before mentally slipping into student mode. He'd find out soon enough.

xxxxx

Harry slipped behind the portrait, leaving the frame slightly ajar. The dim light floating in allowed him to see the small alcove within. He'd found it a few years ago, when he had started his nightly wanderings under his father's cloak.

Although he wasn't exactly sure if Malfoy would show up, Harry knew that he had to talk to him. By an unspoken accord, neither boy mentioned what had happened to them earlier that year, only giving the barest of details, and then only enough to satisfy the Aurors.

Harry peered out of the crack between the wall and the frame, his eyes catching the glint of sunlight off of Malfoy's hair as he strode down the hall. Harry allowed himself a small smile at the scowl crossing the blonde's face, his impatience becoming quite apparent when he paused and scanned the hall for Harry.

Malfoy found himself standing beside the painting, as directed by Potter's note. Annoyed at being kept waiting, he tapped his foot impatiently. He glanced down the hall, still no Potter in sight.

"Malfoy," came the quiet whisper from beside him. He stepped back when the portrait swung out, revealing the alcove within. "Malfoy, Malfoy in here," again came the insistent whisper.

Draco stepped in and stopped before a stone bench that stretched across the small space. As the portrait swung shut behind him, a dim light appeared along with Harry Potter.

"Malfoy, sit down, I need to talk with you," the dark-haired wizard said without preamble, setting himself on one end of the small bench.

Draco lifted an eyebrow quizzically, as he sat down, amused at the other boy's discomfiture. "What's so important that we have to have a private rendezvous?" he smirked, sitting down next the Boy Who Lived.

Harry raised his eyes from the floor, meeting Draco's gaze for a long moment. Nervously, he licked his lips before asking, "Draco, do you have dreams?"

"Dreams, what do you mean dreams?" Draco paled visibly, his hands trembling as he adjusted his robes.

"Nightmares, actually," Harry replied, reaching over and placing his hand soothingly on Malfoy's thigh. His eyes widened as the blond flinched at his touch, but didn't pull away. "Do you have them… about… you know?"

"No, I don't really dream about him, just sometimes, I can almost remember…" Malfoy stopped; his voice dropping to a whisper. "I just don't want to talk about this," he paused, shaking his head, "Harry."

Harry contemplated the boy before him. Malfoy had always been pale, but now his skin was marred with dark circles beneath his eyes, his fine blond hair was limp and lifeless. He reminded Harry of the walking dead he'd seen on one of Dudley's movies. The Gryffindor let out a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Draco, it's alright, I just wanted to… oh shit, I just wanted to know if you're alright, if you'd been having them too," he finished lamely.

Draco's dull grey eyes searched Harry's Slytherin green, searching for something, something he could trust. Finally, he blinked and took Harry's hand in his own, weaving their fingers together. "Wizard's Promise?" he asked quietly. "What I tell you stays here. You won't run and tell Pomfrey or the Healers?" his desperation causing his voice to become even quieter.

"Promise," Harry replied softly, giving Draco's fingers a brief squeeze, trying to reassure him in a small way. "I don't fancy much talking to them about any of this again either. They just want to fill us up with potions… I'd just rather talk them out with you."

A tiny smirk flitted across Draco's lips, before the sadness returned. "Harry, you know I don't remember much about that last day," he started, stopping to take a deep breath before continuing. "I just see flashes of people, they're not really doing anything to me, but I'm, I'm scared. Sometimes, I can almost understand what they're saying to me…" his voice trailing off.

Harry sat still pondering the broken Slytherin before him.