Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Author's Note: Thank you to those who have reviewed so far. Please keep them coming! Again, this chapter has been revised due to the release of HBP.

And Tears

Chapter Two

Draco Malfoy sat alone in his thestral drawn carriage to Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry. He was glad for the time by himself after his rather public breakdown on the train. Half the student body had casually passed by his compartment to get a glimpse of the Ice Prince in the throes of despair, some less casually. The Irish boy from Gryffindor had come back for seconds, that time with the Weasel, Weaselina and that bumbling, incompetent fool, Longbottom, in tow.

Draco cringed as he recalled the little visit, though it was a somewhat distorted memory. He had been sat on the floor between the seats in his compartment with his legs tightly pulled to his chest, forehead pressed to his knees and deep uneven breaths tearing at his throat and escaping his slightly parted lips. His ears had been filled with the sounds of Crabbe and Goyle heavily lumbering about, trying to block the view of their diminished leader from the rest of the school whilst not risking getting too close to him themselves, as if displaying emotion were contagious. And laughter. His ears had also been filled with raucous laughter, muffled gasps and shocked whispers. However, what was infinitely worse was his mind being alternately occupied with the sounds of his mother's piercing, harsh words, criticising and demeaning; and the screams he heard coming from her rooms when she thought him asleep.

The head of the vast Malfoy estate turned his face to the window of his carriage. He couldn't make out much with his empty grey eyes, but he didn't mind because that was not why he had made the movement. Something within him often berated him and told him that he needed to move at regular intervals, as if to check that he continued living in this reality, ensuring he didn't somehow slip away to some other unknown place while he wasn't paying attention.

The young Malfoy didn't notice when the numerous lit windows, which seemingly hovered in the impenetrable dark, grew from the small pinpricks they had been by the station to the large squares and rectangles they were now. He did, however, feel when the carriage came to an abrupt halt.


Harry Potter walked up the large steps to the entrance hall flanked on either side by his best friends. He ignored their excited chatter, instead keeping his eyes intently on the Slytherin a few students ahead of him. Even from behind, Harry could see that despite the determined strides Malfoy took and the high angle at which he held his head, it wasn't the same youth who had spent the past six years strutting around Hogwarts and purposefully trying to aggravate Harry and his friends. Yet, he still could not imagine the young man breaking down in tears, and certainly not where anyone was free to see. He would not allow himself to believe it, and despite the hearsay of others he had no reason to question his doubt. He had not been one of the many who had scurried along to witness Malfoy's grief, just in case it was true…

The large crowd of budding witches and wizards had slowed down to a crawl on reaching the entrance hall as they tried to trickle through the narrow doorway into the Great Hall for the welcoming feast. Bored by the slow shuffle, Harry's eyes swept over the large space he was trying to exit along with at least two hundred others. He somehow couldn't imagine Peeves passing up the opportunity to torture such a large, captive portion of the school and he wanted to be prepared. Though he did not detect any mischievous poltergeists lurking around, he did spot a lone figure with a crop of pale silver hair skulking away towards the dungeons.

Ron found himself stumbling backwards as Harry shoved past him and began battling his way out of the crowd. Grabbing a trailing arm, Ron managed to delay Harry's escape. "Harry..?"

"I need to see McGonagall about something," Harry shot back in response to the unasked question.

"But you'll miss the Sorting…"

Harry yanked his arm out of Ron's grasp.

"It's important!" Harry yelled behind him as he continued pushing his way through bodies, throwing breathless apologies at disgruntled Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to his left and right. Ron turned to Hermione, confusion rampant in his azure eyes.

"What can he have to see McGonagall about so urgently before term's even started?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued her slow shuffle towards the doors to the Great Hall. "Oh, please. Professor McGonagall is sat through there waiting to go and get the first-years off Hagrid for the Sorting, just like every other year."

Hermione watched Ron's eyes widen and nodded along impatiently as if it would act as some sort of catalyst for the process of slow realisation. Suddenly Ron stopped and twisted to look behind him, eyes roving about the entrance hall for a sign of his friend of six years.

"I should find him and tell him…" Ron muttered, eyes still searching, ignoring the frustrated sounds coming from Ginny who had walked into his back when he had come to such an abrupt halt. Hermione merely sighed and yanked the youngest Weasley son over the threshold into the Great Hall and towards the Gryffindor table.

"He knows," she growled quietly.


Harry jogged the last few steps to catch Malfoy before he disappeared through the bricks that were the concealed entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"Malfoy…" Harry puffed, reaching a hand out for the other boy's shoulder, but quickly pulling it back before any contact was made, scared of what wrath it may incur.

Draco froze, having been unaware that he had been followed until that point. He slowly turned to see who had been tracking him and bit down hard on his lower lip when he found himself facing large, viridian, almond shaped eyes watching him inquisitively from behind round glasses. A single tear spilled over and made a run for it over the smooth porcelain of his cheek.

Harry had his confirmation. The rumours were true; Draco Malfoy was capable of tears. Shocked by the revelation, Harry took a step back but immediately regretted it as Malfoy dropped to the floor, as if by taking that one step away, Harry had removed all the support he had. Unsure of what to do, Harry glanced over his shoulder at the empty dungeon corridor, made a quick decision and knelt down before the shuddering heap in front of him. New to the whole comforting thing, Harry reached for a shaking shoulder and gave it a tentative rub. Malfoy's face shot up, moist and glittering in the gentle, flickering glow from the torches burning in the brackets along the walls, eyes latching onto Harry's.

"Shh," Harry murmured, wondering what could have reduced his childhood enemy to accepting comfort from the one person he hated more than any other. All thoughts froze, however, as a sniffling Malfoy lunged himself at Harry, clambering onto his lap and burying his wet face into the warm crook that he found waiting for him between neck and shoulder. This was no easy feat as Harry wasn't actually sitting and almost fell backwards at the velocity with which the other boy came at him. Unclear of what other option he had, Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy. This action of true (even if rather hesitant) compassion triggered yet more sobs, but also some words.

"My childhood is over..." Draco struggled to get out between sniffs and gasps for air.

And there, Harry had the answer to his question, as well as another he had not even thought to ask.


The ceiling of the Great Hall perfectly mimicked the dark night sky, but went completely unnoticed by all but the enthralled first-years. The rest of the students were too engrossed in excessively loud chatter to notice, which was perfectly acceptable considering all the friends catching up after the long summer apart. The Gryffindor table was no exception, contributing greatly to the hubbub. However, the summer wasn't the only topic of discussion, events on the Hogwarts Express were also playing a large role in the conversation.

"Thank you so much, for bringing it to my attention," Ron roared at Seamus, spluttering roast potato as he spoke and pounding a fist on the table. He took a large gulp and turned to Hermione. "Could you imagine if I'd missed that? That's got to be at least a year's worth of ammunition against Malfoy the Ferret! He can bounce and blubber!"

The rest of the seventh-year Gryffindors guffawed at Ron's words, but Hermione just scowled and continued to eat in silence.

"Look, he hasn't even dared to turn up for the feast. Probably flooding out the prefect's bathroom," Seamus snickered, eyes on the gap between the hulking figures of Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. Turning to face some sixth-years seated further along the table, he raised his voice, "Colin… HEY CREEVEY! Tell me you got a photo of that."

"Of course," Colin snorted, as if the mere suggestion of him not toting a camera at someone in visible distress was too absurd to comprehend.

"Good, because I want a copy!" Seamus grinned.

A chorus of "and me"s and "me too"s burst out along the table. It was too much. Hermione threw down her fork. The look on her face made it clear that she had been containing her anger for a while and could hold it in no more.

"Don't any of you," she hissed loudly so that the whole table could hear, "feel the least bit bad at poking fun at Malfoy when he's down?"

Her eyes scanned those of her housemates looking for any signs of remorse, but she only encountered blank expressions. The bushy haired girl seemed to become even more infuriated and her voice reached a shrill level. "How can you get joy from the suffering of another human being?"

"Human? I thought he was a ferret," Ron muttered under his breath, knowing he was in dangerous territory. He obviously wasn't quiet enough, however, as the table burst into uproarious laughter once again. He didn't laugh himself, despite Hermione's brown eyes flashing dangerously dark as if daring him to.

"Well, at least I know one other person in the school who is capable of a little empathy. Harry didn't run off to gawk at him as if it were primetime entertainment," Hermione said haughtily, settling herself back down to her meal.

"Um… where is Harry?" Neville asked from his seat opposite Hermione, one hand clasped to his chest to prevent Trevor from clambering out of his breast pocket. Hermione shot a nervous glance at Ron who quickly piped up.

"Talking to McGonagall."

A Mexican wave seemed to take place as head after head turned to look at the Head table. Professor Minerva McGonagall was deep in conversation with a black haired, green eyed, bespectacled somebody that most definitely was not Harry Potter. This somebody had black hair that fell in curls around her face, and a small snub nose that was so upturned it almost bordered on being piggy, but in a rather impish, attractive way. Looking further south it could be noted that there was also a fair amount of cleavage on display.

"Wow, Harry sure changed…" Seamus murmured through the drool.

Hermione snorted. "Don't be stupid."

Ginny once again found herself nudging a mouth closed, (Ron's rather than Harry's) and this time she swiftly followed it up with a thump. She ignored the whimper issuing from her brother in favour of turning to Hermione.

"I recognise that nose… that's Tonks!" Ginny grinned before adding with a squeal, "She must be our new Defence Against The Dark Arts professor!"

"I think you're right," Hermione said slowly, scrutinising the young woman at the Head table.

"I don't know, I've never seen Tonks look like… well… look like that," Ron said doubtfully, not sure where to rest his eyes as they kept being drawn where they shouldn't. Colour was beginning to rise in his cheeks.

"Of course not. She is a Metamorphmagus, after all," Hermione said in a rather exasperated fashion. Remembering how everyone's attention had been drawn to the new addition to the faculty in the first place, she lowered her voice considerably and turning to Ron, asked "What about Harry?"

"Do you think we should go look for him?" Ron asked, his temperature slowly beginning to regulate itself now his attention had been drawn away from… ahem… other things.

"We can't! The feast will be over soon. You'll have to oversee the first-years and I've got to pass on the password to the other years. Why the hell did Harry have to decide to go missing," Hermione grumbled. "I just hope he hasn't bumped into Malfoy."

"Hell no. We wouldn't want him to drown," Ron said, shovelling more food onto his plate and into his mouth at the news that the feast was coming to an end.


Harry felt the grip around his neck relax as the boy perched somewhat precariously on his lap began to calm down. Assuming the comforting had been completed, Harry thought it was now acceptable for him to push Malfoy off him, so that is what he gently did. Harry felt the other boy's muscles stiffen slightly in response before he dropped his arms from Harry's neck and crawled off his lap to sit with his back against the cold, stone wall of the corridor.

Draco shot an injured look at Harry before pulling his legs to his chest and resting his forehead on his knees as he had on the train. This time there were no tears though. He had already cried himself to the point of emptiness.

"You've done your time, you can leave," Draco said in a cool tone, not lifting his head up from his knees.

Harry observed Draco Malfoy, confusion etched on his face. He'd done his time? Did Malfoy think that Harry had just stayed out of obligation? Harry's thoughts paused. Well, hadn't he? His intention when he'd originally followed the Slytherin definitely hadn't been to hunt him down and hold him. But even though Harry had pushed Malfoy away he was still here and felt no burning desire to walk away and leave the boy sat like this in the corridor.

Still unable to tear his eyes away from the distressed person across the corridor to him, other questions invaded Harry's mind. Was this really Draco Malfoy? This being that was currently a curled up ball of flesh? The expensive variation of the school robes and the fine hair of such a shocking colour it had to be unique to the Malfoy lineage, said a firm yes. But looking at the picture as a whole Harry couldn't be too sure.

His inner monologue stopped in response to a loud rumble from the vicinity of his stomach. Shit, the feast must almost be over. It had been a long time since his large breakfast at the Burrow and he'd been sleeping when the woman with the trolley had come around on the Hogwarts Express. Malfoy must be starving as well. If the feast were almost over that also meant this dungeon corridor would soon be awash with Slytherins.

"C'mon, Malfoy. I reckon you could do with some food," Harry said firmly, having made up his mind. He stood up and flexed his legs, chasing away the tightness around his joints from being stuck in such an awkward position with Malfoy's weight atop him. Harry turned to his hallway companion to see him looking up at him, an expression on his face that Harry couldn't interpret.

"I'm not going to the feast so everyone can laugh at me," Malfoy said quietly, then dropped his eyes to inspect the material that covered his knees. When he spoke again, anger was evident in his tone. "Why don't you go join your Gryffindor friends and laugh at how you saw Draco Malfoy, son of… son of Lucius Malfoy, crumble on the Hogwarts Express?"

Malfoy's eyes raised to battle Harry's, this time flinty with defiant anger as they had been whenever he'd looked at Harry Potter during the previous six years, but Harry could detect hurt and shame there too.

"I wouldn't. I didn't." Harry stepped closer to Draco. "I didn't see you on the train."

Draco's eyes widened at the news before swiftly dropping to his knees again, his arms tightening around his legs. The distant sound of chatter, laughter and footsteps sounded somewhere above their heads as students filed out of the Great Hall, a quarter of that number descending stairs to make their way to the dungeon corridor where Harry now stood over Draco.

"Malfoy?"

Draco looked up to see an outstretched hand; a friendly hand. A hand that mimicked the hand that Draco himself had offered Harry on that first train ride to Hogwarts. With only a second more of hesitation, Draco slowly released his legs and slipped his right hand into Harry's, allowing the stronger boy to pull him up.

Harry immediately began walking briskly along the corridor in the opposite direction to the slowly growing crescendo that announced the approach of the Slytherins. He kept a firm grip on Draco, gently tugging him along behind him.

"We'll cut down a few of those old unused corridors past the old Potions classrooms, get closer to the Hufflepuffs and the kitchens," Harry said once they had ducked around the first corner. He loosened his hold on the cold, pale hand in his own, setting Draco free if he so wished, but the smaller boy just tightened his grip.

"How do you know your way around the dungeons so well?" Draco asked, curiosity over-riding the need inside him to be silent and submissive.

The Marauder's Map. Four years of owning the Marauder's Map, though only three years with my godfather... not that I can really count the first and the third was cut… short, Harry thought. He decided not to answer, truthfully or otherwise. Malfoy wasn't worthy of the knowledge. He was not worthy of Sirius.

Draco felt Harry stiffen from where he now walked beside him and decided not to ask any more questions. Instead he opted to walk along in silence, clutching Harry's hand, going wherever Harry led him.


Harry had been surprised when Dobby had greeted Malfoy with great warmth. He had expected the house elf to be terrified of his previous master, but on the contrary Dobby and Malfoy had conversed happily. During this, other house elves scuttled about preparing Malfoy's favourite childhood food "just as little Master Malfoy desires it" on Dobby's orders. Harry remained forgotten, but did not mind. A slightly happier Winky had provided him with a platter of assorted sandwiches so that he was able to watch the strange interaction between the Slytherin and house elf.

Many sandwiches later, Harry slipped away unnoticed from the kitchens leaving Draco and Dobby to catch up, his mind lingering behind him a few minutes, replaying what he had witnessed. He couldn't help but remember how both Draco and Dobby would flinch whenever conversation drew near Draco's father. In the same way he couldn't stop himself from seeing the sparkle of an unshed tear that had filled Draco's eyes when his mother was mentioned or Dobby made reference to the fact that "little Master Malfoy" wasn't so little anymore.