Shout out to my awesome Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! You guys kept me sane.
The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.
Dread washed over Draco as a harsh scraping sound came from his window. It persisted, and Draco's shaking hands were clammy as he crept toward it. Holding his breath, he reached out and drew back the curtains to find the amber eyes of one of the school owls staring back at him. Caution told him not to undo the latch, but his own morbid curiosity was louder, and Draco found his hands moving of their own volition. The owl ruffled its feathers once, dropped the letter through the open window, and was disappearing into the gathering darkness as Draco caught the paper in his hands. He tried to stifle their trembling and tore the envelope open, blood draining from his already pale face at the words glaring up at him.
You think you can just ignore me? You think you're safe hiding behind Potter? You've got another thing coming, Malfoy, and I will make you regret this mistake. You'll pay for this. Look behind you, around the corner, under your bed, but you won't find me. You won't see me coming, and by the time you realize I'm right behind you, it'll be too late. You'll wish you'd never ignored me.
Draco's fingers felt cold, and the parchment fell from them to drift down to the stone floor. From there the angry words stared up at him, burning tiny holes into his brain. As if the threats weren't enough, Draco could tell from the messy lettering and splotches of ink that his blackmailer was becoming unhinged. In certain places, he could only barely make out the words behind the smeared ink. Draco shoved the letter out of sight, under his bed with the others, and twisted to collapse back against the side of his boxspring, head thumping back onto the mattress behind him. Although he tried his hardest to come up with his next move, Draco's mind was blank.
The joy he had felt at his mother's words were long gone, now replaced with fear, revulsion, hatred, and a million ideas of what he'd like to do to his blackmailer began surfacing. Defeat hung over his head like a heavy sword, and Draco knew that the string holding it back was dangerously thin. He was just so tired. Tired of fighting, of running, of constantly having to prove himself to people dead set on not giving him another chance. Draco's feet slipped on the steep precipice of surrender, and as he closed his eyes he let himself fall into it's dark, unknown folds.
...
When Draco opened his eyes the next time, following a particularly terrible nightmare, it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. Someone had moved him to his bed and removed his shoes, with his blanket pulled up around his shoulders. Winter had only grown colder and colder, so despite the layers surrounding him, Draco was still shivering. When thinking about who could have moved him, his train of thought immediately latched on to Gregory, and as Draco turned his head to search for his friend on his own bed, he found it empty. Draco frowned then and crawled out of his bed, wriggling out of his wrinkled uniform to pull on an old green sweater and a pair of his favourite grey muggle joggers. Significantly more comfortable, yet still chilly, Draco wrapped himself up in his duvet before descending the stairs to find Gregory.
A roaring fire breathed steadily before him in the common room, and Draco was equal parts delighted and surprised to find Gregory already on the couch with a book Draco had lent him in his lap. Gregory looked up as Draco's slippered feet trod down the steps, and a smile lit his features. He scooted over on the couch to make room for Draco, who gratefully took a seat next to him and hugged his knees to his chest, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders in order to neatly cocoon him.
"What are you doing up?" Gregory asked, closing what Draco now recognized to be his Poe anthology and looking over to him.
Draco gave a noncommittal shrug and turned his face toward the fire, finding comfort in the dancing flames.
"I couldn't sleep. I saw you weren't in your bed, so I decided I'd come down here and keep you company."
"I'm glad you did," Gregory said, and Draco's cheeks felt hot. "It was getting pretty lonely, and you make good company."
Draco's chest felt warmer at that, and he leaned over to rest against his friend.
"How kind of you to say."
They sat in that comfortable silence for a moment, both watching the fire as it danced low to its embers.
"It's nice down here," Gregory commented after a while. "Much warmer than the dorm."
"Really?" Draco asked, a shiver racing through his body and forcing him deeper into his blanket. "I'm freezing."
Gregory frowned at him and pulled back a bit in order to wrap his blanket around Draco's shoulders before he returned to his spot against the arm of the couch.
"Is that better?" he asked, and Draco shrank a bit under his stare.
"Yeah, a little. What's keeping you up tonight?"
"Just couldn't sleep." Draco got the feeling Gregory was evading his question, and this theory was confirmed as he deflected the conversation back onto him. "What about you? Why are you still awake?"
Draco shrugged and watched as Gregory stretched out and put his arm on the back of the couch. It was hovering just above his shoulders, and Draco could feel his stomach dissolving at the thought of how easy it would be for it to touch him. It was these innocent thoughts that set Draco's heart racing. The mere thought of touching Gregory's arm sent electricity down his spine and made him shudder.
"I've had nightmares since the war," Draco answered simply. "Some nights are just worse than others."
"I get them too sometimes, but never for long. I always wake up before they get too bad," Gregory's voice was quiet, and Draco could tell he was not being entirely truthful. Before he could ask him to elaborate, Gregory was changing the subject yet again. "Are you really that cold?"
Draco snorted as Gregory lifted a hand to press the back of it to Draco's forehead, but his amusement turned to surprise when it touched his skin. The heat coming off his skin was almost too much for Draco to bear. He hid this and nodded instead, casting his eyes away from Gregory as a cold shame flooded over him.
"I'm not sick or anything. It's a side effect of the Cruciatus Curse. I'm always cold. I guess it escalates when the temperature gets this low," Draco explained, giving him a little shrug. "I'd noticed it a bit in November, but since December began it's gotten much worse."
Draco's eyes followed Gregory as he stood up and added a few logs to the fire, building it up and stirring the flames with the poker. A surge of warmth that had nothing to do with the fire passed through Draco's chest and stirred in his stomach as he watched Gregory dust off his hands and come back to sit on the couch once more.
"We'll just have to keep you warm, then, won't we?" he teased, and nudged Draco's arm with his own.
"Thank you," Draco replied with a little smile, eyes widening as if remembering something important. "Oh! I meant to tell you at dinner, but my afternoon was so crazy that I couldn't make it. Madam Pomfrey said that starting next week we'll be sitting in on your Apparition class. She said you all have got so many splinchers that she can hardly keep up, but that we're all competent enough by now to give her a few extra hands."
"It's about time. That one Ravenclaw girl almost bled out the other day. It was pretty touch and go. I'm lucky I only ever get small ones."
"Do you still get nauseous?" Draco asked, his eyes falling to the scrapes on Gregory's hands and arms, all in various stages of healing.
"Not so much anymore. Not really since the first week, even. I don't even get splinched all that often either. I've gotten pretty good since we started."
"I'm glad to know that. I'll keep an eye out for you all the same," Draco answered and sank down further into the couch, the beginnings of sleep weighing too heavily on his shoulders to sit up straight.
"I would throw a fit if Madam Pomfrey let anyone else take care of me," Gregory asserted, looking rather serious.
Draco found himself laughing, but it soon turned into a yawn and he let his head fall back to rest against the arm of the couch.
"It'd be your funeral. She can be a scary woman."
"I'm not too worried about it," Gregory said with an easy grin. "I can't think of anyone else who would want to help me anyways."
"I don't know – but they'd probably do it wrong; I can tell you that," Draco answered and gave another shiver. He couldn't help but remember how warm Gregory's hand had been and wondered if the rest of his body felt the same.
"Are you still cold?" The surprise was written in Gregory's voice.
"I almost want to throw myself into the fire," Draco admitted, bringing his hands up to his cheeks. He was shocked by just how cold they are. Casting a mischievous glance at the boy next to him, he lunged across the couch and pressed them to his cheeks instead. "See? They're frozen!"
"Merlin's beard, Draco!" Gregory admonished as he flinched in surprise, reaching up and taking Draco's hands into his own. "How are your hands that cold?"
"How are yours so warm?" Draco marvelled at the heat radiating from them. His memory had not done them justice.
"I don't know, I've always run a little hot," he teased, earning a swat from Draco. Reaching a hand out to cup his cheek, Gregory laughed a bit. "You, on the other hand, are practically a Dementor."
Draco laughed with him, leaning into his hand.
"Let's just hope that some poor bloke doesn't die if I kiss him."
"Cold skin is one thing, but that would be truly unfortunate," Gregory said and took his hand away from Draco's face to rest his arm along the back of the couch again. "Better find some sap to test it out on before you find someone you really like. Just in case you do accidentally kill someone."
Draco flopped back against the couch, half leaning against Gregory.
"I'd have to really hate them, too. Which may take a while, considering everyone I hate is either dead or in Azkaban."
"Just wait until Weasley does something really stupid and lay one on him. See what happens then," he teased, letting his arm fall to rest around Draco's shoulders.
"I don't think even Hermione could stop him from killing me if I did that," Draco snorted.
"Or maybe he just dies? High risk, high reward," Gregory teased, tapping his forehead.
"I don't think I could kill someone in good conscience," Draco answered thoughtfully and settled in against his side.
"Well, the way I see it, you have two options. Risk killing the love of your life, or find someone who's going to be alright with never kissing you."
"Shouldn't be too hard, I don't think. I'm sure people who would be alright with never kissing me make up a majority of the world."
Gregory gave a laugh at that, and Draco felt a surge of pleasure at the sound. After the day he'd had, all of this just felt right. The world was slowly clicking into place, and Draco could pretend that no one was angry with him; that no one was sending him threatening letters; that Slughorn wasn't trying to force him into changing his entire life plan-
Slughorn! Draco thought. If anyone could help me with that choice, it'd be Gregory.
"Hey, Gregory?" Draco started nervously, his fingers picking at the frayed cuffs of his sweater. "Can I talk to you about something sort of important?"
"Yeah, of course, Draco. What's going on?" Gregory asked, concern stamping out the mirth that had been in his voice just a moment before.
"I ran into Slughorn today, and he offered me his job."
Gregory was quiet for a long moment before he found Draco's eyes, the confusion there plain.
"Alright. Isn't that a good thing?" he asked slowly, and Draco shrugged.
"I don't know, that's why I want to talk to you about it, I guess. It's just, I went into this year with a plan of action and a goal to work toward. I wanted to become a healer, and I'm doing well in all of my classes, so it feels right."
"So then what's the problem?" Gregory prodded. "Just tell Slughorn thank you, but you're not interested."
"I tried to! But he thinks I've got something special I can't see just because I helped you and Harry with that potion. He told me he won't take no for an answer, and while I know he can't make me switch tracks, I don't want him to be a pain in my arse about it either."
"I understand. Let's look at it this way – why do you want to be a healer?" Gregory asked.
"Easy," Draco answered, "I want to help people instead of hurt them. I've caused so much pain, and now I want to fix it."
"Well, if you think about it, you could do that here too, couldn't you?"
"How do you mean?" Draco asked, his nose wrinkling at the thought of spending more of his life in the castle.
"There's a new generation of students coming, isn't there? They'll need strong professors, ones with commitment to doing good. You could help them by teaching them. Ultimately, the decision is yours, but I don't think it could hurt to see if Slughorn's onto something here. Does he have any sort of plan for you?"
"Yeah, he wants me to shadow his class during my free period after Christmas, and I assume I'll end up teaching it. I suppose... yes, I suppose I could try it. He said I wouldn't have to cancel my other classes. I could do both, really…"
"Then what's the harm?" Gregory asked, and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "If you don't like shadowing, you could always take it back."
"But there's the other problem," Draco answered, worrying at his cuticles. "What if I do like it?"
"I… don't follow, Draco. What do you mean?"
"Exactly that. What if I do like it? What if I like it so much that I want to teach after all? There's no way the parents will let me. An ex-Death Eater? You'd be off your rocker to think they would."
"I wouldn't be too sure, Draco. You forget that you're a Potter-Pardoned ex-Death Eater. Besides, look at me. I did some really terrible things last year, and they still let me into the Auror programme. Of course, they're keeping a close eye on me, and I likely won't be allowed on solo missions as long as I have a career, but they're taking a chance on me. The world is changing, Draco. There will be people who speak out against it, you'd be a fool to think there wouldn't be, but there will be others behind you. You can do anything you want now. Healer, professor, sweet shop owner; it doesn't matter! You can be anything you want to be."
Looking into Gregory's eyes, Draco was overwhelmed with the urge to lean forward and close the short distance between their lips, but instead he settled for staring at Gregory with a sense of wonder. Feeling more hopeful than he had all day, he began nodding until it made sense to him. "No, you're right, of course you are," Draco answered and tucked himself back under Gregory's arm. "I think I will give it a try. Even if I don't like it, at least I'll have done it, right?"
Draco and Gregory stayed like that until the grey light of dawn began creeping in through the windows, talking through their futures with fluttering excitement, and taking turns reading excerpts from the book in Gregory's lap. Draco loved hearing Gregory read, he had a steady cadence and an even tone that lent life to the old, dry words that decorated the page. "Annabel Lee" was Draco's favourite, a poem that had resonated within his soul from the moment he'd read it. The way Gregory read his favourite line, "we loved with a love that was more than love", set off lightning in Draco's stomach and left him feeling thunderstruck until Gregory nudged him and passed off the book for Draco to take a turn reading. At some point, Gregory had taken Draco's hand in his own, but neither seemed to notice that he hadn't let go until the first of their peers began their morning routines. Draco was the first to slip away, leaving Gregory with his blanket and his book and floating back to their dorm on the remnants of the dream he held of a future where he was happy, and Gregory was beside him.
…
The day flew by quickly for Draco, something that he found came easily with the strange sense of euphoria he was feeling. With homework getting harder as Christmas drew nearer, he found that the spare time he had to devote to Gregory was depleting more and more quickly. However, as they had begun having Apparition and Healing within the same blocks, there was a guaranteed ninety minutes of time he had to spend with Gregory every day. They were in the middle of this slot as Draco stared anxiously at the hoop on the ground in front of him, shifting from one foot to another as he waited for Gregory to appear there. When he did, it was with a sharp crack that made Draco jump, and he quickly scanned the taller boy for any evidence of splinching.
"How do you feel? Nauseous? Are you bleeding anywhere?" Draco asked, stepping forward to grab his shoulders and search Gregory's back.
"Stop, Draco, I'm fine!"
Gregory only laughed and tried to shake him off, the two engaging in a familiar dance as Draco fussed over him. It was an amusing sight for those closest to the pair, and by the time Draco was typically satisfied with his examination, Gregory's face was often quite red. This time, however, Draco brushed off his shoulders and took a step back without too much of a fight, and nodded for Gregory's instructor to step into the hoop for side-along Apparition.
While he waited for Gregory's return, Draco allowed his mind to wander back to the first day the healers had come to Apparition. Professor Twycross had stood in the front of the Great Hall, transformed to accommodate so many students, and gestured to a line of his students, Madam Pomfrey's healers standing across from them. As Professor Twycross prattled on about the instructions, Draco's eyes found Gregory. It hurt him to see how far away his classmates stood from him, but Draco supposed that being ignored was better than negative attention in Gregory's books.
Draco's attention was snapped back to Twycross as he announced that he'd be pairing them off, and his stomach sank with dread. There was no way these people would trust him with their lives. Even if the party had gone well, they still stared and whispered when they thought he couldn't see or hear them. Then, there was the matter of Gregory. No healer he was paired with would want to take care of him. Draco's worst fear was realized when Professor Twycross began reading the names.
"Michael Corner, with Gregory Goyle."
Draco didn't miss the flush of anger that crossed Corner's face, nor did he miss the mutinous look that he turned toward the small man at the podium.
"No. No way am I working with him."
"Pardon?" Twycross asked, already in the process of announcing another pair.
"I won't do it, Professor. I won't work with Goyle."
Draco's heart sank, and for a moment he feared Twycross would insist.
"Well, young man, unless someone else is willing to volunteer-"
"I do!" Draco called before the words had even fully left Twycross's mouth. "I volunteer to be Gregory's partner."
Ignoring the sniggering the flared up around them, Draco moved to stand next to Gregory, and as Twycross announced Corner's new partner to be Daphne Greengrass, he felt Gregory's fingers reach out and lace themselves with his own.
That had been a week ago, and ever since then Draco watched with unease as Gregory popped in and out of existence. The first two days, Draco had to apply Dittany to tiny splinches that Gregory blamed on being distracted, but after that third day, Gregory had stopped reporting even nausea. Even though Draco knew what was coming when Gregory returned, he still had a hard time preparing himself for it. As if his thoughts were a summoning spell, another sharp crack announced Gregory's return. After a compulsory check over both Gregory and his instructor, Draco stepped nervously into the hoop and gripped Gregory's arm.
"Relax, I've got you," Gregory murmured, but Draco only shut his eyes tightly and prepared himself for the suffocating sensation that would come at any moment.
Draco hated Apparition. He was immensely claustrophobic, and the sensation of his atoms being squeezed so tightly left him feeling sick to his stomach, the fear giving him migraines. He much preferred Floo travel, or flying a broom, but taking the healer was a part of Gregory's curriculum, and so Draco tried his hardest to grin and bear it whenever Gregory needed him to. The tight, constricting feeling came with no warning, and when they landed, Draco was gasping for breath.
He got to work quickly, scanning over Gregory once more before seeming to realize something was wrong.
"This isn't Hogsmeade," Draco said softly, glancing around the clearing they had landed in.
"No, it isn't," Gregory agreed, and reached around Draco to pluck a wildflower off the bush behind him.
Coming back, Gregory reached out and touched Draco's hair before tucking the flower safely behind his ear. The smile Gregory gave him said a lot, and Draco felt his words catch in his throat.
"Thank you for being here with me," Gregory said softly, but broke the moment as he glanced at his watch. "We should get back, yeah?"
Draco needed no further prompting, and he gripped onto Gregory's arm once more.
That night, when he was sure no one was looking, Draco pressed the flower into his mother's photo album. Looking down at the tiny blue Cornflower blossom, he found that nothing else mattered. Not the letters, not the whispers, not even the paranoia of being followed. The only thing that mattered in that moment was how Draco felt about Gregory, and the fear that came with caring for someone so deeply.