Big love for my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!

The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Although Draco had already committed the contents of the letter to memory, his fingers itched to open the envelope and read it once again. But he was forced to leave the letter stuffed deep inside his messenger bag until he knew he wouldn't be interrupted. These threats were something he had to deal with on his own, and Draco held a strong suspicion that if Potter or Gregory had any inkling of the letters he'd gotten that summer, or of this one, they would barge ahead to protect him without ever stopping to consider if it was protecting that he wanted. He knew Potter's hero complex would render him incapable of ignoring Draco's plight, and, after a lifetime of bending to Draco's whims, trying to take care of this problem would come as naturally to Gregory as breathing. Draco did not have time to play the damsel in their heroics, and he could handle an anonymous writer who hid behind a quill instead of facing him.

Besides, it wasn't as though this letter had been any more worrying than the others he'd received. It appeared Draco's pen pal didn't have much creativity when it came to threats and name calling, a characteristic that would have turned Draco off the matter if it had been a plot in a story rather than an inconvenience in his personal life, but Draco still wanted to roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. Honestly, to go so far as to call him a coward? Draco's lungs burned at the thought, and the itching in his fingertips grew stronger. Against his better judgement, and sneaking a glance at the door, Draco's hands darted into his bag and pulled the letter out once more. It didn't take him longer than a minute to read it, as familiar with the words as he already was.

Malfoy-

I can't tell if it is brave or stupid of you to return to Hogwarts after my warning. I think I'll go with stupid in your case. We both know that your cowardice prevents you from any kind of bravery. I must say, it was clever of you to grab ahold of Potter as quickly as you did, but not even he will be able to shield you from me. I wonder how Goyle feels, now that he's on the outs. Maybe you'll start taking strolls around the grounds with Potter instead. I wonder if he'd try to smash those fists into Potter's face too. You should have stayed home, ferret. You will regret your choices.

I'll be watching.

Draco stuffed the letter back into his bag as soon as his eyes skimmed over the final words. He could have written it off entirely, if only it weren't for the personal details of the letter. Draco's correspondent had obviously been following him, or else had other methods of keeping tabs on him. How else could they have known about his walk with Gregory? The fight which had almost broken out in the Great Hall would have made his stalker harder to pin down, as everyone knew about that, but as far as Draco could recall, he had not seen anyone else around the castle on the morning of the walk he'd taken with Gregory.

That brought another question to his mind. His tromp with Gregory had happened over a week ago. Why had it taken so long for him to receive a letter like this? Unless his pen pal was someone outside of the castle. That would make more sense, seeing as most of the wizarding world hated him, but the writer would still need a spy who dwelt inside the castle to glean information from. Draco would have to be more vigilant in noticing who was around him, and what they saw. He wouldn't let this pathetic blackmailer scare him, but it wouldn't do to behave stupidly either.

As Draco sat stewing over the letter, he was struck with the realization that he had not written his mother since his arrival. Though she had not written to him either – Draco did not expect her to. It had always been their tradition that Draco would send her a letter from breakfast on the first morning to tell her of any changes, and she would send him back a box of sweets the next day to commemorate what they both knew would be a successful year. Mother must be so worried. How could he have forgotten? Draco began to feel terribly about her wait and resolved to write her a letter immediately following dinner that night. He didn't have the time just then, as Gregory was late and could show up at any moment.

Draco rubbed his temples as he waited by his cauldron in Professor Slughorn's classroom, thoughts running through his crowded mind more frequently than cabs on London's streets. He had agreed to help Gregory brew the laughing potion before dinner so that he could get it right during the exam, but fifteen minutes had passed since their agreed meeting time, and the inconsiderate bloke was nowhere to be found.

For some reason, whenever Gregory tried to make the potion himself, the drinker would be overcome with a sense of melancholy so strong, they'd burst into tears at the slightest inconvenience. Draco privately thought this may have something to do with the way Gregory was stirring his potion, as he'd always had a propensity to go too fast, but he couldn't be sure until he watched Gregory attempt it himself.

"Sorry I'm late."

As if his thoughts were a summoning spell, Gregory opened the door and approached the table Draco sat at. His face and shirt were sooty, and his sleeve was torn near the shoulder. Draco's eyes continued further down to find mud caked on his shoes, and the overall picture it drew clashed terribly with the image of Gregory he held in his mind. His first conclusion he could draw was that Gregory had attended a care of magical creatures lesson gone wrong, but that couldn't be the case. They had not had a class with the groundskeeper since Fifth year. As Draco could not find another viable explanation for why Gregory looked this way, he was forced to dismiss his instinctual urge to stay aloof.

"Aren't you going to tell me what kept you?" Draco asked, annoyance creeping in behind his words. "I've been waiting almost fifteen minutes for you."

Gregory sighed and sat down on the stool next to him.

"I think it's a new Weasley prank from their joke shop. This First year came running at me and threw some kind of powder in my face. Next thing I knew, I was up the groundskeeper's chimney. Bloody good thing he didn't have a fire going. He pulled me out and sent me on my way. It rained a good bit last night, so I got stuck about halfway back and had to pull my shoes out of the mud. I would've changed, but I didn't want to make you wait any longer than I had already."

There was a strange sincerity in Gregory's eyes as he spoke to him that made Draco's stomach flutter. For a moment, Draco was touched by Gregory's commitment to not keeping him waiting, but this soft feeling rapidly turned to rage as he zeroed in on what had caused his tardiness. He almost surprised himself with his desire to get back at the brat who'd done that to Gregory, and so he had to keep himself firmly planted in his seat to make sure he didn't go off and do just that.

"We've got to report that, Gregory. You can't just let it slide-"

"It's no big deal, Draco. Weasley doesn't produce anything dangerous, and I'm sure that kid was just having a bit of a laugh. It's really alright," Gregory cut him off, and the resolution on his face kept Draco from arguing with him. "Let's not keep you waiting any longer. Ready to brew a laughing potion?"

Draco had half a mind to press him further, but he knew that if they did not get started on this potion soon, they would miss dinner. After skipping the last half of breakfast and hiding in the library during lunch, dinner was something Draco was very much looking forward to. His traitorous stomach gave a loud growl, and Draco scowled as Gregory laughed at him. He made up his mind then and pulled his potions book out before flipping to the page with the correct recipe.

"Right, then, let's get going. Do you mind if I watch you do it and correct any mistakes, or would you rather I brew it with you?"

"Well, this potion can be pretty temperamental, right?" Gregory asked, and as Draco nodded, he scooted closer to him. "I think I'd like it if you brewed with me, then."

Draco lifted his head from the book and was surprised to find Gregory's face mere inches from his own. His words caught in his throat and his stomach dropped to his feet when Gregory cocked his head at him. Had his eyes always been so brown? In the low light of the potions room, they seemed to be melting over and over again. Draco found himself leaning fractionally closer to get a better look, but jumped back as the door to the classroom was flung open. He whipped his head around, fully prepared to chew out who ever had scared him, but Draco found himself quite speechless as Potter stood in the doorway, his hair messier than ever and his tie half undone.

"'Mione said you guys were working on the laughing potion," Potter said, breathless and looking as though he might have run there. "Can I watch too? You know I'm no great shake at brewing potions. Please?"

Draco wanted to refuse him. He wanted to rip Potter a new one for stopping Gregory from doing... whatever it was he was about to be doing, but with Potter looking so desperate he had no choice but to let the ponce stay. Merlin, someone out there must hate him a lot. Draco was suddenly overcome with the morbid thought that, just maybe, this was Dumbledore's final jab before he left Draco alone for good. With that wonderful thought in mind, Draco tried his best not to roll his eyes and motioned to the seat next to him.

"You can stay, but we're all brewing it together. You won't learn anything by just watching."

"Yes, Potions Master," Potter said with a cheeky grin as he crossed the room to sit next to him.

"Don't make me regret this," Draco muttered.

"What'd you say?" Potter asked as he found his perch on the stool.

"Nothing. First thing's first, you need to collect your ingredients. They're pretty common, so all of these things should be in your kits already. Potter, you get the spring water, Alihotsy leaves, and Billywig wings, and Gregory can get the Knarl quills, Puffskein, and Horseradish powder. We'll take turns doing the laughter."

Draco looked up from the book when he could hear no movement and found the two boys staring dumbly at him. He tried to extinguish his sudden flare of rage, managing instead to dim the roar down to a mere whisper of impatience.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Something in his tone sprung the boys into action, and they both lunged for their bags. Gregory had his supplies on the table not long after, but Potter seemed to be digging in his bag for well over five minutes before he even resurfaced with his kit. The git didn't even have the decency to look sheepish as he pulled out what they would need and laid the supplies on the table. Draco couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes at that, pulling the potions book closer to himself.

"Let's get started, then. Potter, add the spring water to the cauldron, and chop the Alihotsy leaves. The book doesn't specify this, but I find my potion is better if my leaves are chopped vertically rather than horizontally. It releases more of the mirthful properties."

"What about if I chop them diagonally?" Potter teased, earning a murderous glare from Draco that shut him up.

Draco watched Potter chop the leaves with a keen eye before he gave a nod and let Potter add the leaves into the cauldron.

"Now, Gregory is going to stir the potion three times clockwise and once counter-clockwise. The reversal of the motion will settle your potion. Be careful to stir slowly. If you stir too fast you will damage the leaves' properties. Once you've done that, snigger at it. Not a giggle; that comes later."

Gregory nodded, his eyebrows pulled together in immense concentration, and did as Draco instructed.

"Potter, while he's doing all that, you need to grind up the Billywig wings. Make sure they're a fine powder. If you have chunks, their magic will overpower the potion, and the drinker will fall into frantic mania. Once Gregory is done sniggering, add them to the cauldron, and Gregory will repeat the stirring motion."

Draco kept a sharp eye on the two of them as they followed his instructions. He felt eyes on him and lifted his head to meet Potter's stare, a confused frown pulling at Draco's mouth. Why wasn't he looking at the Billywig wings? They'd never be crushed properly if Potter was too busy gawking at him instead. Draco's hand shot out to cover Potter's bowl as he reached over to dump its contents into the cauldron, an action that surprised all three of them. Draco removed his hand, but sifted a finger through the mixture in Potter's grinding bowl, moving the powder to uncover a still intact wing.

"Potter, you've got to pay attention. If you added this, and someone drank it, they would be sent into a fit of mania so strong that, unless another potion was administered immediately, could cause the heart to stop. I know that a laughing potion sounds silly, or even trivial, but every potion has its range of horrible side effects. This one is no exception."

Draco kept his tone light, but firm, and found himself hit by a wave of sadness at the realization that those words were not his own. How many times had Severus told him that exact same thing when he'd let Draco help make potions growing up? He had always been so careless as a child, but Severus had had boundless patience when it came to his mistakes. Severus was always keeping him out of trouble. Draco cleared his throat as he felt it tightening up under the weight of his grief and removed his hand to let Potter try again.

"Right, I'm sorry," Potter said and turned away to rectify his mistake.

Draco turned his head toward Gregory to check on his progress until a hand covered his own and he jumped a bit.

"Is this right?" Potter asked, this time with a strange meekness that Draco hadn't heard before.

"Yes, that looks great," Draco answered quickly, leaving him to dump the powder into the cauldron and instead turning back to Gregory in favour of looking at Potter. He nodded to the stirring wand.

"Go on and give it another set of stirs. After you've finished that, you'll need to add exactly three Knarl quills. Potter, be prepared to heat the mixture once he's finished. Are you ready? Alright, go ahead and apply the heat, Gregory, start stirring vigorously and giggle at the potion. Potter, take the heat off."

A strange sound came out of Gregory's mouth, and Draco whipped his head around in time to see Potter's face split into a grin. Before a laugh could escape him, Draco was throwing a hand over his mouth.

"Don't! Don't laugh, you'll ruin it!"

"I'm sorry, Draco!" Gregory cried. "Was that a giggle? I was thinking too hard about the difference between a giggle and a snigger. Have I messed it up?"

"Turn the heat on, and we'll soon find out," Draco said. He looked carefully at Potter and removed his hand only once Draco was sure he would not laugh. "I'm sorry, but laughing at that stage could have ruined it completely. We've already been here an hour, and we don't have time to start from scratch."

"No, I'm sorry," Potter answered with an easy grin. "I knew the instructions; I just wasn't thinking."

"What next, Draco?" Gregory asked anxiously.

"Right, sorry, shave your Puffskein and scatter hair over the surface of the potion," Draco answered and rubbed his temples. "Then stir quickly, and Potter, apply high heat. Now laugh, both of you, loudly and uncontrollably."

Potter and Gregory glanced at each other before letting off a set of raucous fake laughter, a sound so awkward and pathetically charged that Draco could not help the fit of true laughter that overtook him. After the double shot of adrenaline that Potter had given him, it felt good to release some of his tension.

"Now add a sprinkle of horseradish powder, Gregory," Draco commanded as he stifled his laughter. "And stir the potion over heat one last time. Once he's finished that, Potter, wave your wand over the cauldron to finish the potion off, will you?"

Draco nodded to himself as Potter gave a wave of his wand, and Gregory turned off the heat. He reached for a large phial and a ladle before scooping some of the potion into it and giving it a sniff.

"Does it smell alright?" Potter asked.

"Laughing potion doesn't have a smell, or colour," Gregory answered.

"Well, I can see that much. The book doesn't have any information on sme – Draco, stop!"

Potter lunged for the phial as Draco brought it to his lips, but Draco simply stepped out of his reach. He quickly skirted around to position himself on the other side of the table once he saw Gregory eyeing him as well, glad to have something solid between the three of them.

"Don't drink that, Draco, we don't even know if I giggled or not!" Gregory begged.

Draco shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"How are you to know if you've brewed it correctly or not? I'm not going to have one of you two drink it, because if it doesn't work, I'll be too tempted to leave you here and go to dinner. I won't take much, and if you've brewed it correctly, I should only be laughing for about a minute."

Potter still looked of the mind to lunge across the table and snatch the phial from his hands, so Draco went ahead and tipped it back, letting the potion slide down his throat.

"You two are worrywarts. Honestly, I'll be-"

Draco collapsed onto the floor before he could finish his sentence, and Potter and Gregory were rushing around the table to get to him.

"Oh, Merlin, is he dead?" Gregory panicked, reaching out to flip him over just as Draco burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"You think that's funny?" Potter stormed, looking angrier than Draco had ever seen. "You're a right foul git, Draco."

"N-Not-Funny-" Draco gasped out between fits of laughter as he curled in on himself and began to roll on the floor. "Can't-can't-con-trol-it." His laughter reached a new height until he was practically screaming as he writhed on the floor. "If-lasts-much-much-longer-get-Pom-Pom- Pomfrey!"

Potter and Gregory stood over Draco, helpless to do anything but watch and wait for him to come out of it. It was only another minute before Draco stopped writhing and instead laid limp on the floor, forehead pressed against the cool ground below him. Draco was taking deep, steady breaths and counting down from ten until he regained use of his arms and legs and finally pushed himself into a sitting position. Gregory took a step closer and looked like he was about to give Draco a hand, but Potter beat him to it, and Draco took the hands offered to him gratefully.

"Thank you, Potter."

"Don't ever do that again. What the hell were you thinking?" Potter snapped.

Draco deigned not to answer and instead stepped around him, moving back to the cauldron at the table. He waved his wand over the potion and it disappeared, leaving no trace of the last two hours of their lives. Draco kept his silence and began putting the leftover supplies back where they belonged, conscious of the eyes on him. He did not look up again until the supplies were neatly back in the kits, and only at Gregory once he did.

"Are you hungry? I didn't go to lunch today, so I'm starving."

"Draco – " Potter started, but Draco interrupted him.

"If you'd like to come with me, Gregory, you're more than welcome to. I'm leaving now, though, so you should hurry if you are."

Draco was quickly pulling his things into his arms before tromping directly for the door, Gregory scrambling to gather his things and follow him in the wake Draco left behind.

"I'm sorry, alright?" Potter called, and Draco stopped with his hand on the latch. "I know it's not my place to tell you what to do, but that was so reckless! You know that I'm terrible at potions, and you were already tutoring Gregory, so the likelihood of that being a safe potion to drink was so low! We could have killed you! I won't try to tell you what to do anymore, but could you please try not to get yourself killed either?"

Draco paused there at the door for what felt like an eternity before he finally turned his head to look at them over his shoulder. The look on his face was hard to read, but he gave a little sniff and shrugged his shoulders.

"Potter, you're welcome to come eat with us as well if you like."

...

Dinner was already bustling by the time the three entered the great hall, and Draco knew that as they passed by the rows, he was not the only reason they grew quieter. He knew he was no longer the sole focus of their whispers, nor was he the only one they were staring at. A glance at the Gryffindor table told him Ginevra was not present, and he did not need to look at their own to know Weasley wasn't going to be there either. It was, however, a surprise to find Hermione sitting at their table alone. Draco had thought she would have been massaging Weasley's fragile ego instead.

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted as he sat himself across from her.

"Hello," she answered glumly.

Gregory sank down onto the bench next to him, and Potter next to Hermione. The air was charged with a sort of fragile tension, and Draco found himself wishing that he could just eat his meal in peace. He was sick of Weasley's moping, and of Hermione's guilt, and even of Potter's angst. All Draco was asking for was one meal where he could relax and not feel the need to tiptoe around feelings or scramble to say the right thing. He missed his old friends, dysfunctional as they were, and longed for the days where he could sit between Crabbe and Gregory while Pansy simpered at him across the table and Blaise complained about the lack of good blokes at this school.

"Harry, Ron was just –"

"You know, 'Mione, I don't really want to talk about it right now," Harry snapped at her and she cringed away from him.

"Yes, but –"

"Hermione, stop. Ron and I will work it out. You don't have to –"

But Draco did not hear what Potter had to say beyond that, as he grabbed up his things and made a beeline for the door. Draco didn't slow down, not when Gregory called out after him, nor when every head in the great hall whipped around to look at him, nor even when he dropped his potions book halfway there. He didn't stop until he'd reached his dorm and thrown his bag onto the bed. Draco crawled up after it and tried to focus on breathing deeply.

"What's the matter with you?"

This couldn't be happening. Lifting his head, Draco confirmed that Weasley was, indeed, sitting on his bed by the door and looking straight at him.

"Nothing," Draco answered. "Long day."

"Right…" Weasley was quiet for a long moment, and when he opened his mouth again, he could not look Draco in the eye. "I'm sorry. About what I said to you this morning. It wasn't right, and I know we're all on the same side now, and Hermione reamed me pretty bad for it. Well, I would have apologized even if she hadn't, but –"

"It's okay, really. I know what I did during the war, and so does everyone else. I'm sorry for interfering. You were already angry, and I know I made the situation worse."

"So, then...?"

"I forgive you. I had forgiven you hours ago. Now, if you don't mind, I have to write a letter to my mum."

"Blimey, yeah, do that. I haven't written mine in ages. Should probably get around to doing that…"

Draco found it easy to tune Weasley out once he pulled his parchment onto his lap and began writing. There were too many thoughts in his head, and he knew that mother would be hard pressed to make out what he meant, but Draco thought he had a viable excuse for the jumbled mess that was his brain. Still, as his quill scratched across the parchment and laid all his burdens bare, Draco felt far better than he had since coming to school.

Mother,

I'm sorry you haven't heard from me before now. Things have been strange this year. Everything is so different. Potter's mission seems to be to forcefully befriend me, and the strangest part is that I think I enjoy it. Gregory almost got into a fight with Weasley this morning. I think he's being targeted by the other students here. I'm not, and I'm sure it has something to do with the extra attention Potter's been giving me. They're all too scared to cross him, seeing as he knocked off the Dark Lord. I'm well, but I wish things would slow down. How are you? How is Mrs. Goyle? I'm sure Gregory would love to hear from her.

I love you, Mother

Draco

Draco trudged up to the owlery before Potter and Gregory could return from the great hall. He was grateful to find Ulysses on a perch close to the entrance and tied the letter to his leg with great care. Stroking a hand down his back, Draco let the owl fly off into the crepuscule. Draco watched Ulysses go until he was nothing but a dot in the pinks and blues of the evening sky, and then still long after that.