Harry has officially reached his limit. It's been one week since his name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire. One week of harassment at the hands of his supposed best friend. One week of trying to talk to Albus Dumbledore about the absolute lunacy of the current situation. He's being tormented, glared at in the hallways, and ignored by the one person who may be able to fix this mess. Needless to say, Harry is at his wit's end.

Currently, he is on his way back from Dumbledore's office, storming his way through the castle, his rage casting a deadly aura around his person. Once again, Dumbledore was not in his office. Either that or the Headmaster had just ignored Harry's presence entirely, despite the vicious assault Harry had taken up against the old man's office door.

The corridor is completely deserted, other than Harry himself, due to the late hour, and Harry curses himself for lacking the foresight to bring his invisibility cloak with him as a precautionary measure. The last thing he needs right now is to be caught wandering the halls after curfew by Filtch. Yeah, that would really do wonders for his already wounded reputation.

Harry takes another right turn and idly realizes that he's heading toward the Astronomy Tower instead of the Gryffindor Common Room, which was his intended destination. He stops, considering turning around and making his way to Gryffindor Tower to avoid the possibility of detention, but he quickly dismisses the notion. He needs to clear his mind, and besides, he has no wish to return to his dormitory, where all that awaits him are accusing stares and passive-aggressive comments.

Decision made, he continues walking, eventually reaching the ladder that leads to the Astronomy Tower. Harry sighs and begins his ascent, pushing open the trapdoor that leads outside as he reaches the top.

As he emerges from the castle, he's hit with a rejuvenating wave of fresh air. He takes a moment to enjoy the cool wind whipping through his hair and the glittering stars that are painted across the vast obsidian sky. Inhaling deeply, Harry pulls himself up through the opening in the ceiling, planting his right foot firmly on the stone floor and hoisting the rest of his body through.

Harry sighs, his head dropping back on his shoulders to look at the night sky. The moon is shining brightly, casting an eerie light upon the courtyard below. Feathery clouds intermittently obscure the sky's blackness, traveling slowly with the wind.

Harry shudders, the wind penetrating his skin, bringing a chill to his bones. Despite the slight discomfort the cold brings, Harry finds himself feeling relaxed for the first time since he entered the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He takes a deep breath, and as he exhales, he feels the tension melt from his shoulders, relief following soon after. And, even though he knows that this feeling is only temporary, he revels in it, wishing that this moment could last for an eternity.

After a few minutes of undisturbed silence, Harry lifts his head, rolling it on his neck, wincing at the cracks and pops that come from his joints. He opens his eyes and finally observes his surroundings. He immediately comes to the realization that he is not alone.

Harry's gaze locks onto a lone figure sitting on the edge of the tower with its legs dangling over the side. The breeze is rustling the unknown person's hair, which seems to be glowing beneath the moon's radiant gaze. The figure's hair is striking, and Harry finds himself transfixed by those platinum blond tresses that glitter and shine as they sway listlessly in the wind. Their figure is silhouetted against the sky, making them seem ethereal and unearthly.

Suddenly, Harry comes to a realization, the intensity of it shaking him from his thoughts and shocking him into a state of clarity. Harry only knows of one person at Hogwarts with that hair colour. As the pieces fit together in his mind, Harry realizes that he knows the identity of his unexpected companion.

Draco Malfoy, the Ice Prince of Slytherin and Harry's sworn rival. Harry just barely resists the urge to groan. It's just his luck that he would stumble upon Malfoy, of all people. Fortunately, it seems as if Malfoy has yet to notice his presence, which leaves Harry with the perfect opportunity to escape without being drawn into another pointless argument with the blond Slytherin. However, Harry is loath to abandon the feeling that he's found here, and he finds his body disobeying his command to retreat. Harry engages in a few more seconds of internal debate before he comes to the conclusion that he's willing to ignore Malfoy for the time being as long as he's able to retain this rare sense of peace for a while longer. Besides, he'd like to think that both of them are mature enough to maintain at least some level of civility, at least for a short period of time.

Harry's resolve hardens, and before he can resume questioning the intelligence of this decision, he swings the trapdoor closed, taking care to make enough noise to alert Malfoy to his arrival.

The blond male jumps at the sudden sound, quickly swiveling his upper body toward the center of the tower. His grey eyes widen in shock as he takes in Harry's presence. Harry can easily pinpoint the moment when Draco recognizes him, the expression behind the blond's steel eyes blatantly shifting from startled to irritated in less than an instant.

For a few tense moments, both teens remain unmoving, neither even daring to blink lest the other turns aggressive. The silence between them is thick and heavy, and Harry has the nearly irresistible urge to fidget anxiously under Draco's scrutiny. Finally, Draco sighs, his eyes losing their savage intensity. The blond's shoulders slump, his posture suddenly deflating, but his gaze remains fixed on Harry's own.

"Potter." Draco greets curtly, nodding almost imperceptibly to acknowledge the Gryffindor. Harry is surprised by the lack of malice in his tone, and he hastily hypothesizes that, maybe, Malfoy is just as tired and fed up with the world as he is. Harry recognizes the defeated slump in Draco's posture and the dark bags of exhaustion beneath his eyes - Harry sees the same things every time he looks in the mirror - and he lets himself hope that he and Malfoy can form a tentative truce, at least for one night.

"Malfoy." Harry responds, returning the nod. Something unidentifiable flashes through Draco's gaze, but before Harry can begin to decipher it, Draco turns back to face the open air, leaving Harry standing awkwardly, unsure of what his next move should be.

"You can sit down, you know. I don't bite." Draco mumbles, just loud enough for Harry to hear. If Harry is being honest, he wasn't expecting Malfoy to continue their interaction, and he certainly wasn't prepared for the blond to invite Harry to join him. It takes a second for Harry to regain his composure, but once he works through the worst of his confusion he moves to take a seat next to the Slytherin.

"Could've fooled me." Harry mutters as he lowers himself onto the tower's edge. He mimics Draco's position, his arms propped up at his sides and his legs dangling off the side of the building, swinging back and forth ever so slightly.

Draco snorts, not without humour, much to Harry's surprise. "And what could have possibly given you that impression?" He snarks dryly, rolling his eyes and smirking. Harry lets out a small chuckle but doesn't respond.

Once again, silence reigns between the two rivals. However, despite what Harry had been expecting, the quiet is not awkward. Far from it, really. Unbeknownst to Harry, Draco's thoughts resemble his rather closely.

The easy silence continues for about ten minutes, though to Harry and Draco, it feels like mere seconds have passed. Suddenly, Draco speaks, his silky voice flowing softly through the air between them.

"Why are you up here, Potter?"

Harry almost misses the question, so lost in thought that the outside world has faded into the background. Draco's voice, however, manages to break through Harry's daze, and the Gryffindor promptly replies.

"What do you mean?"

Draco scoffs. "Don't play dumb, Potter." The blond turns his head to look at Harry's profile, taking in his sharp jawline and roughish hair. "I've seen that look on myself enough times to know that something's troubling you."

Harry whips his head around to meet Draco's gaze, accidentally wrenching his neck painfully in his haste. He winces and narrows his eyes, suspicion creeping into his mind.

"Why do you care?" Harry bites out, pouring a bit more aggression into his tone than he intended to.

Draco shrugs and breaks eye contact, glancing down at his fingers, which are tapping an erratic, restless rhythm against the stone.

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me."

Draco sighs and takes a moment to collect his thoughts, carefully choosing his words. "Because, believe it or not, I'm not a monster." Draco pauses to run a hand through his hair. "Look, Potter, I know that you're going through a lot right now. Weasley, the person who's supposed to stand by you no matter what, is antagonizing you for idiotic reasons. Almost the entire school is against you, and you're constantly being reminded of that fact by those stupid 'Potter Stinks' badges that everyone's been wearing. And, to top it all off, you must be scared out of your bloody mind. It's obvious, at least to me, that you didn't place your name in the Goblet. But, despite that, you are contractually obligated to risk your life for fame and recognition that you don't even want. We may be enemies, Potter, but I have no desire to sit by and watch as your entire world falls apart. I know what it's like to be alone with no one to confide in, and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. I may not be your first choice, but I'm willing to listen." By the end of his speech, Draco is once again looking Harry in the eye, his intense gaze paralyzing the Gryffindor.

Harry finds himself rendered speechless, his thoughts racing as contradicting theories chase each other around in circles within the confines of his mind. Harry's slowly beginning to realize that, despite what he believed, he truly knows nothing about Draco Malfoy. He's always viewed the Slytherin as heartless and egotistical, unable to care for anything other than his own well-being and social standing, but it's obvious now that there is so much more to him. His words held depth, and his tone conveyed a certain level of understanding. But, above all of that, Draco's voice was genuine and full of emotion, and his words were unmistakably a projection of his own painful experiences. As Harry continues to consider these revelations, he begins to acknowledge that Draco Malfoy is, indeed, human, despite the heartless persona he displays. It's all an act, it always has been. It's Draco's unique way of protecting himself from the cruelties of the world, and even though this method doesn't seem like a healthy option, Harry can understand where Draco is coming from. It's impossible to be vulnerable when concealing who you really are from the rest of the world.

Draco clears his throat nervously, jolting Harry from his jumbled contemplations and alerting the Gryffindor to the fact that he has been silent for quite some time now. It's clear that Draco is becoming skittish, the beginnings of doubt creeping into his gaze, and Harry curses himself for retreating into his head for so long. Draco has just shown an amount of vulnerability that he probably isn't comfortable sharing with others, especially not with his nemesis who, up until twenty minutes ago, he has never held an actual conversation with.

"Sorry," Harry exclaims hastily, his entire body jolting with his voice as he tries to reassure the boy seated next to him. "I'm not trying to ignore you. I'm just confused, I guess. Why would you make an offer like that? You hate me." Harry's brows furrow in confusion as Draco chuckles sadly and lowers his gaze, shaking his head.

"I don't hate you, Potter. If you recall, I wanted to be friends with you." Draco huffs and runs a hand through his already messy, windswept hair. "I guess we both know how that turned out." He adds as an afterthought, his mood darkening to such an extent that his depression is almost tangible.

Harry sucks in a harsh breath. "What are you talking about? Of course, you hate me! Why else would you constantly come after me like that?" Harry asks, his voice rising as his bewilderment and disbelief mount. He doesn't know what to think. This has to be a joke, right? Just another way for Draco to mess with him and make his life a living hell. However, when Draco sharply turns his head to look at him, his expression raw and pained, Harry knows that the Slytherin is, for once, telling the truth.

"Because I'm jealous, alright!" Draco shouts, his words echoing through the serene night air. When Harry gives no indication that he's going to respond, or even that he understands what Draco is trying to tell him, the blond continues yelling. "At first, I was jealous of Weasley because he managed to do what I couldn't! And then you became friends with Granger too - back when she was still an insufferable know-it-all - and I just couldn't stop myself from wondering if there was something wrong with me! What do they have that I don't?! And then, the more I thought about it, the more I started to become jealous of you: Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, and Savior of the Wizarding World. When I looked at you, I saw everything I wanted to be: Popular. Likeable. Fearless. A genuinely kind person who is able to inspire true loyalty by merely being themselves. How could I compete with that?! I became so obsessed with being better than you as a way to overcome my jealousy that I stopped caring that I was hurting you." Draco's voice suddenly lowers to a whisper and he timidly looks up at his shell-shocked companion.

"But, over the past year, I've started to realize something. I realized that your life isn't as simple and glamorous as it seems. I started to wonder whether there was really anything to be jealous of. And then, last week when your name came out of the Goblet, I was shocked. I began questioning my theories about you. Maybe you really were drunk on the fame of being The Boy Who Lived. Maybe that wasn't enough, maybe you wanted more. But then I saw the expression on your face. Harry, you looked horrified. If I hadn't known any better, I would have guessed that someone had died. And then I noticed the way Weasley was glaring at you, the way you immediately looked to him for reassurance, only to receive anger and misplaced feelings of betrayal. It was then that I really decided that there was nothing to be jealous of. Your fame is superficial, and it will always get in the way of your ability to trust the people you're close to. I realized that, even though Weasley played the role of a dedicated friend, he's never actually respected you as a person. And I finally came to the conclusion that your dismissal of my attempt at friendship didn't mean that the people you chose instead of me were worth any more than I was, or any less, for that matter.

"So, no, I've never hated you. I honestly don't think I'm capable of it. I willingly admit that my aggression towards you was misplaced and an embarrassingly juvenile way for me to handle my feelings. If I could take it all back, I would in an instant. In fact, I would do almost anything to go back to the first time we met at Madame Malkin's and approach you with the frame of mind I have now. Maybe then, things would be different. But, unfortunately, no amount of magic can change our past. I'm left wondering if we could've been anything more than enemies, and I guess I'll just have to come to terms with that."

The sudden lack of Draco's voice sends Harry's ears ringing as the night's silence overwhelms his senses. He doesn't understand, and yet, he does. He knows what it's like to feel overshadowed by someone else, and he knows the profound pain that comes with believing that you aren't enough. Up until he went to Hogwarts, he was ostracized and rejected by his peers, despite his desperate efforts to make friends with his classmates. Harry hates that he's made Draco feel like that, and he'll never stop blaming himself for not realizing it. Who knows? Maybe Draco is right. Perhaps, if things had been different, they could have become close. Draco was a right prick when they were younger, but based on this interaction, Harry can conclude that the Slytherin has changed, possibly into someone that he could grow to like and respect. The dark-haired Gryffindor's gut fills with regret and his chest aches as the weight of every missed opportunity crashes down upon him.

"I… I didn't know…" Harry finally responds, unsure of what else to say.

"Of course, you didn't." Draco scoffs, his lips quirking in a barely noticeable smile. "I didn't want you to. Merlin, I'm honestly not even sure why I'm telling you now. But, what's done is done, and I'm just way too tired to regret it at the moment."

"I don't hate you either, for what it's worth. Especially not now." Harry whispers, wringing his hands together in his lap.

Draco laughs breathily. "Yeah, well, you can go ahead and forget about this conversation if you'd like. We can wake up tomorrow morning and go back to pretending that we hate each other. I mean, what else is there to do?"

Harry doesn't respond at first, instead, sifting through his thoughts, trying to sort them into something that makes sense. There are so many variables, so many factors to consider, and yet, Harry keeps finding himself drawn to the same conclusion.

"There is another option, you know."

Draco hums in acknowledgment, tilting his head so he can glance at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "And what's that?"

"What if we start over? It's just a hunch, but I think that you need a friend just as much as I do right now." Draco's head jerks to the side to face his companion, and when their eyes meet, Harry is nearly overwhelmed by the unguarded hope that shines within his steely, grey eyes.

"Why?" Draco murmurs, not yet willing to believe that Harry is actually going to give him a second chance.

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. "Why not?" He replies simply, tilting his head slightly as he meets Draco's gaze with wide, innocent eyes. Draco stutters, stumbling over his response, almost as if he's afraid to give in to his desire to take Harry up on his offer. "So, what do you say, Draco? Friends?"

Harry holds his hand out to Draco, a dazzling, boyish grin appearing on his lips as he waits for the Slytherin to reach a decision. Harry's smile is contagious, and it only takes a fraction of a second for Draco to return the joyous expression and find his resolve.

"You know what, Harry? I think I'd like that." Draco reaches out and takes Harry's outstretched hand firmly in his own, not once breaking eye contact with the dark-haired boy beside him. Though it may be a simple gesture, this particular handshake means so much more to the two boys than words could ever describe. It's the beginning of something new, the birth of a promise that will never be broken.

One final word is all that it takes to solidify their commitment. This word, easily more powerful than any spell, officially changes the course of Harry and Draco's lives, paving new roads for them to tread upon and turning the impossible into something that is well within their reach.

"Friends."