AN: Thank you to THGHPTVD.2 for the constructive criticism! I *literally* had no idea that spelling blond without the 'e' was a thing, and I'm sure it's not the only thing I wasn't smart enough to catch… Guys, seriously leave any comments because I don't wanna be out here looking like any more of a fool than I need to with this story. Sorry if any of you got spammed with emails when I updated all 14 chapters with the corrections... Thanks for reading! xxx

Draco dropped his arm back down to his side at Harry's words. He looked from the wand in his hand across the corridor at the dark-haired boy staring back at him. Everything made sense at once; the Slytherin wasn't stupid, he had known his wand wasn't working normally after Harry had returned it, but he never thought it was because he hadn't won it back. He simply assumed that his wand and his magic, like so many other things about him, had been irreparably damaged by the time the War ended.

With a slight sense of guilt, he pointed his wand out to the side and cast a stunning spell at an empty piece of the wall. As it sailed smoothly across the corridor, he put up a shield. Both spells felt fluid, like he remembered well-practiced ones always being growing up. It was almost as though he hadn't realized how restricted his magic had been, and now it was flowing freely through him again. Relief he never thought he would find rushed over him, and it was the first time in years he felt he stood a chance at being completely whole someday. Perhaps, if he weren't Draco Malfoy, a tear might have come to his eyes.

"I didn't know…" the blond said quietly. It was closest thing to an apology he had ever spoken to anyone other than his parents. Part of him cringed at the idea of throwing his pride away to apologize, but another part of him wished he could do better.

Harry crossed the corridor, and Draco looked up at him as he approached. He felt even worse when he saw the all the discoloration and cuts on the Gryffindor's face from the hits it had taken. Harry's lip was split and bleeding, and a faint spot of blood was gathered under the left side of his nose. It was easy to tell he would be covered in bruises within a few hours. When he got closer, having clearly been trying to hide the limp in his step, he leaned his back against the wall by Malfoy's side and replied.

"Good. It wouldn't have worked if you did… You needed to really fight for it."

"What now?" Draco asked half-heartedly after a moment of awkward silence. "We must be late for Defense. God, my dad's going to kill me." He frowned at the unfortunate circumstance of having his father for a teacher, whose disappointment could extend far beyond the classroom.

"I don't really know," Harry shrugged. "Go to class and act like nothing happened?"

They both turned to face each other, and after both gave the other a brief once-over they laughed. Harry was in fairly terrible shape, and Draco hadn't exactly come out unscathed, either. The thought of trying to pretend they didn't know they both looked like they'd had a go at the Whomping Willow was ridiculous.

"Genius," the Slytherin rolled his eyes with a small smile. "Come on, let's go," he added, turning back down the basement corridor and waving for Harry to follow.

"I don't really fancy another trip to the Hospital Wing…" the Gryffindor hesitated, not thrilled at the thought of the questions and babying that would come with it.

Draco shot an unimpressed look back over his shoulder. "I'm going to the room, Potter."

As vague as it could have sounded, Harry got the message. The Slytherin soon heard the footsteps catch up with him and the dark-haired boy came into view again at his side. They soon arrived, thankfully unnoticed, at the lantern hanging over the crack in the floor and Draco led the way through the door. When they were both inside, Harry's already blurry vision was completely useless and he began fumbling through his bag for his smashed glasses and his wand. Having no luck finding either among his invisibility cloak and tons of course supplies, he attempted to set his bag on the table. As the Gryffindor moved over, he almost tripped on the leg of a chair he couldn't quite see. The mild spinning of his head from the impacts, the dim lighting, and his lack of glasses must have been a terrible combination; it was the least coordinated the Slytherin had ever seen Harry be.

"Next time we duel, I'm knocking your glasses off," he said, surprised at his own amusement. "Then you'll just finish yourself off for me."

Draco got a scoff in reply, but he was relieved to find it didn't sound entirely unfriendly. Taking pity on the almost-blind wizard, he stepped over to the table and pulled Harry's bag over. Harry seemed to want to take it back at first, but decided to let it go. As the blond searched through the bag for the wand and glasses he thought perhaps the Gryffindor was embarrassed because he knew Draco would see the silk robe that was tucked in there among the books. It really was an odd choice, but he didn't let himself think about why Harry might need a robe of that material in his school bag. When he found both items, he handed them over and watched as Potter flicked his wand and made the glasses snap back together flawlessly. Draco vaguely wondered how many times Harry had used that spell before, and if he had ever replaced his glasses before in his life.

"So, what's you plan, then?" Harry finally asked. "Hide here until we somehow don't look a mess?"

"I can heal us if we need it," Draco told him casually. "It's not that hard, small stuff like this."

Harry's eyebrows went up, but then a look of realization passed over his face. The Slytherin cringed internally as he knew Harry was remembering being told that all Death Eaters had been trained, to some extent, in healing. He half expected to be told that he and his help weren't welcome, but the dark-haired boy only nodded appreciatively.

"Ok, what do I do?" Harry asked. Malfoy threw his robe onto the table along with his bag and motioned that Harry should do the same.

"Let's just sit down," he said.

They both made their way over to the couch to sit, muscles beginning to ache as bruises formed. When they sat, Draco reached under the couch to find the large metal bowl and cloth he had stored underneath the seat. He would never admit it to Harry, but it was hardly the first time he had used this room to fix himself up. It seemed, however, that the darker-haired boy quickly caught on when Draco easily filled the bowl with warm water.

"Here," he handed the bowl over to Harry. "Clean your face up and I'll look at your shoulder and knee." He had noticed the limp and had seen from the way the other boy took his robe off that his left shoulder was not doing too well.

Harry's hands brushed over Draco's as he took the warm metal bowl. "Thanks," he replied casually before lifting the cloth out of the water to wipe carefully at his face.

Draco froze despite himself for a moment, not at all used to having anyone being so comfortable around him. The only person who perhaps had been in the past was Pansy Parkinson, but after the War her family had not allowed her to return to Hogwarts and had convinced her that she would be much better off not associating with Draco. And they were right, he thought bitterly.

Shaking his head slightly to keep his mind on the present, he watched as Harry dried his face with the sleeve of his sweater. He took the bowl back and vanished the water before drying the cloth and tucking it back under the chair. Draco then stood up and proceeded to poke at Harry's knee and shoulder until he could figure out what was wrong. He eventually concluded, from the grunts of discomfort that came from the Gryffindor, that the shoulder had been mildly dislocated and the knee had simply swollen from impact. There was little to do other than put his shoulder back in place, and the task took all of five minutes.

"What about your face?" Harry asked, clearly meaning the swollen part of Draco's jaw that Harry had stung.

The Slytherin shrugged. "Nothing to do. It'll go in an hour or so, probably. Same for the rest of where I was hit."

The faintest muffled echoes of the eleven o'clock bell could be heard even from the hidden basement room. It told the two seventh-years that they had definitely missed the entirety of their Defense class, and had a few hours to spare before potions. A silence settled between them as they were both as healed as they could get and neither seemed to want to ask 'what now' yet again.

"Well," Draco decided to let Harry get on with his day. "I didn't really eat much breakfast and I need to hide my face for a while. So I'm off to the kitchen."

He rose stiffly from the couch and walked over to the table to put his robe back on. He ran a hand through his hair, straightened his tie, and dusted off his robe to make sure he was at least as presentable as he could be. When he turned to the door and shouldered his bag, he was surprised to find Harry following right behind.

"Mind if I join? I could eat, too, and it'll be nice to save my knee and keep away from worried friends for a little while longer," the Gryffindor explained when Draco gave him a quizzical look.

The idea was unexpected, but not unwelcome, and Draco simply shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The passive reply seemed to be enough for the darker-haired boy, who proceeded to put his robe back on, grab his bag, and follow Draco out the door and down the hall. It wasn't far to the kitchens; soon they had made their way over to a small table across from the fireplace in the entrance. As they each took one side of the table and put their bags down at the end of their respective benches, an unfamiliar house-elf ran over to the table.

"Hello, sirs," the elf greeted them with a bow. "What can we be getting you?"

"Actually," Harry replied kindly, "can you just tell Winky she has visitors?"

Draco tensed as he remembered Harry had seen him with Winky the night before the Sorting Ceremony. He wondered what exactly the two had talked about after he had left, and hoped Winky hadn't said anything too revealing about him. The elf nodded and scurried off, and only a few moments later Winky appeared with a large smile spread across her wrinkly face.

"Hello, Masters Draco and Harry!" she said happily, approaching their table.

Draco nodded at her with a small smile, and Harry greeted her warmly.

"Will you be wanting to eat?"

"Yeah," the Gryffindor confirmed.

Winky left quickly without asking what it was they fancied. Harry and Draco settled into silence, Draco staring into the fire and Harry gazing across into what little of the kitchen was visible. When the house-elf returned, she was pushing a cart full of various foods and topped with a tray for tea. Harry seemed impressed at Winky's ability to float each of the dozen trays up and onto the table simultaneously and in an organized manner. Draco's stomach dropped as he noticed, thinking perhaps he should also be impressed, but wasn't because no less would have been accepted in Malfoy Manor while he was growing up. Draco nodded his thanks, and Harry spoke up.

"Thank you Winky," he smiled at her. "And, er, can you tell all the elves that Hermione has finished making her first set of winter hats? We can stay up in the common room tonight until cleaning hours and hand them out."

Winky looked as though she had no interest in the offer, but knew others would and politely agreed to pass the message on. She turned to Draco before she left for the kitchens again.

"It makes Winky very happy to see that Master Draco's fear has not become reality," she told him, then left before he could reply.

He caught Harry's eye, then looked away and tried not to let his face turn red. Of course Winky had to say something like that when they had company. Draco was surprised to find, though, that when he looked back up Harry didn't seem interested in questioning the exchange. In fact, the Gryffindor was busy filling a plate with ham and bread and pouring himself some tea. Relieved, Draco joined in and decided to have a few pastries first since he had mostly missed out on breakfast. Breakfast foods and pastries were easily his favorites.

He hoped Harry didn't notice how he favored pumpkin pasties, as he didn't want to give the dark-haired boy a reason to suspect what a pleasant surprise being brought pumpkin pie in the hospital had been. Pumpkin had always been among Draco's favorite flavors; it was just the right amount of sweet mixed with spiced, and now even reminded him of how happy he had been before he was old enough to understand the world.

After he finished his first pasty and cup of tea, he was pleased to find that his face didn't feel swollen any more. Imagining it looked normal again was likely a stretch, but it moved without aching. Draco found himself thinking that he wasn't sure what he had expected from having the Gryffindor as company, but it certainly wasn't this. The entire meal so far had been silent, which was the opposite of how he imagined the other boy. Yet, somehow, the silence wasn't awkward. It didn't feel like Harry was struggling to find something to say, but instead that he didn't care to say anything. Draco was quite thankful, as the main reason he had never been able to maintain real friendships was because he simply wasn't the kind of person to talk about everything. He didn't find gossip interesting- well, most gossip, anyway- and he hated the thought of sharing and having a conversation about every significant event or decision.

As much as Pansy had loved him, he could never even bring himself to see her as a true friend. Or, rather, he hadn't felt the way he imagined having a true friend must feel like. He just hadn't felt comfortable being around her all the time, because she would suddenly ask him about his feelings, or ask him to talk about what had upset or hurt him. He understood that she wanted to know so she could try and make things better for him; after all, that was how every normal person seemed to go about things. But, whether he liked it or not, that just wasn't how he worked. He had been raised to not allow anyone, even himself, access to deeper thoughts and feelings, and at this point in his life it was- without exaggeration- impossible.

As he came to understand this about himself, he had imagined that he would never be good enough to have friends. Friends talked about things, told each other stories about their days, and laughed together just because they were happy. That wasn't something Draco Malfoy had ever been capable of. Yet Harry had never asked Draco about his life. He hadn't even asked the Slytherin to explain what Winky had said right in front of his face. It seemed the Gryffindor couldn't care less about what Draco was keeping from him, and the blond was impressed by how at ease that made him feel.

It wasn't even until he sneezed that the silence between them was broken by Harry's laughter. Draco instinctively felt defensive. "What's so funny," he asked with a bit of bite.

Harry snickered again, "Draco Malfoy, sneezing." He shook his head, "I didn't exactly grow up imaging my enemies doing something as normal and human as sneezing."

Draco didn't know how to feel, and settled by default on a sarcastic reply. "Wow, what a revelation," he cast the Gryffindor a bored glance. "Get this, we even sleep sometimes, too," he added with a roll of his eyes.

Harry faked a gasp and let his eyes go wide. "You're joking!"

Draco scoffed and threw a small chunk of bread at the other boy, afterward finding the impulse a bit strange. Harry seemed to find it normal, however, and flinched dramatically before gesturing at his bruised face.

"Hey, careful! Look what you've done."

The Slytherin had to hide a smile by pressing his lips firmly together. "The great Harry Potter, wounded by a bit of bread," he mumbled to himself, amused, as he looked back to his food.

The pair finished eating fairly soon after and heard the noon bell ring. Draco stacked his empty plates on top of one another and straightened up, stretching his arms out to the side. He touched his jaw and was pleased to find it didn't hurt.

"How's my face?" he asked Harry, wondering if it looked normal again.

"Honestly," the Gryffindor started with an appraising glance, "a bit pale and pointy."

Draco couldn't stop his jaw from dropping and letting out a little laugh. Never in his life had anyone so casually made jokes at his expense to his face. Gryffindors, he thought with another roll of his eyes.

"Fuck you," he snapped back without being entirely angry. "At least I don't look like I'm part troll and have the eyesight to prove it."

Harry seemed completely content with being insulted, and shrugged before reaching over to take the last pumpkin pasty for himself. Instead of eating it, however, he tucked it in his robe before standing up.

"Sanitary," Draco quipped, standing up as well.

"Look," Harry replied defensively, "it's practically got a shell. I'll just wipe it off before I eat it."

The Slytherin gave an unimpressed look as he pulled his bag over his shoulder.

"Whatever, Potter," he replied.

When Harry had picked up his bag, they both made their way over to the door.

"I'm going to the Great Hall to find my father," Draco told him.

"Yeah, Hermione and Ron will be there now, too."

The blond tensed a little at the idea of being caught walking around with Harry Potter, particularly when both of their faces were very obviously injured. Perhaps a Gryffindor wouldn't worry about the appearance of it and what people would think, but that was all Draco knew to do. Despite that, he didn't argue and the two walked together up the stairs and towards the Great Hall. As they got a few odd looks from the occasional student passing by, the Slytherin tried to remind himself that overall people had made a point of not acknowledging him. Surely there was no chance anyone would bother stopping their lunch over him arriving at the Hall.

What he failed to consider, however, was that everyone always stopped everything to focus on Harry. The moment they stepped into view at the entrance to the Hall, a ripple of silence tore down the tables as elbows flew and heads whipped around to face them. Draco's chest quickly grew tight as he watched hundreds of pairs of eyes either fly wide open or narrow suspiciously. Taking a breath and barely acknowledging the Gryffindor at his side, he quickly headed down the edge of the expansive room to his usual place at the Slytherin table. He was almost relieved to find that, as he passed his housemates, the vast majority of the eyes he managed to meet were ones opened wipe with surprise.

Stranger still, some even smiled at him.