Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry stared at Malfoy as he retreated to the tent. Did he really feel bad about insulting him? He must have or he wouldn't have retreated to the safety of solitude like that. It wasn't like a Malfoy to retreat when insulted or yelled at, they liked to play it calm and collected instead.

"HARRY!" He jumped as the two portraits yelled his name simultaneously.

"What?" His voice was soft, not wanting the other man to hear him.

"If you don't take the time to go over there and make up with that boy, so help me I will come back to life and castrate you!"

"Ever so pleasant, dear godfather." He refused to listen to another word the portraits said and slowly got up. Taking a few tentative steps, his body taut, searching for any sign that Malfoy was, indeed, hurt.

He sped up when he heard a small rustle. It had sounded like someone shifting when they were upset. Small, fast movements, almost to the point of being jerky. He paused at the door to the tent and looked back at the pictures of Sirius and Elizabeth. Two complete opposites, yet Harry suspected that if they weren't cousins they would have made a great pair.

They waved at him to get a move-on and he thought he heard Sirius mutter something along the lines of 'before my painting yellows.'

Taking a deep breath, he walked in quietly and stopped when he saw his partner huddled in his blankets. His blond hair was the only thing that could be seen, the rest of his body covered and bound tightly inside the blankets.

He had apparently decided to make himself a living mummy, wrapped in the fetal position. He couldn't get over the fact that Draco Malfoy was huddled in the blankets like a child would. He took another few steps towards the boy, and paused again when he heard a shuddering intake of breath. He couldn't believe what was going on.

Draco Malfoy was crying.

He walked up to the bed and sat down on the edge. Harry felt his body stiffen, and he put a hand on his shoulder gently.

"I forgave you a long time ago, you know." He heard a vague answer, but years of fighting with the stubborn git had given him the uncanny sense to know what he would say in any given situation. "No, I won't go away. Because I care about you. Because you're a person and because our paintings will castrate me if I walk away."

"Castrate?"

"Yes, and I rather like everything where it is thank you very much."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm here because I care about you. You're a person with feelings and I'm sorry I ever doubted that." He watched Draco relax slightly, and silently thanked Merlin that he hadn't botched his apology up.

"Really? Because if you had any clue you wouldn't be saying that."

"Any clue about what? Seriously, this is what I know. I know you were a vicious child because you were scared and on your own. I also know that when you grew older you acted out of fear for your mother and friends. You did exactly what I would have done."

"No. You didn't consider anything I had to actually do."

"But I would have if I was in your position. Would I have actually done it? I guess we'll never know. But I would have considered it seriously, for sure."

Draco relaxed a little more, no longer in the tight, tense position he had been in before. Harry took that to mean that he could sit more fully on the bed, and did. His hand rubbed comforting circles in his shoulder. Circles that said 'I'm here and I care.'

"Why do you care?" Harry looked at the blond, seeing that he had fallen asleep. The question had been him sleep-talking.

He wondered at the question. Why did he care? He supposed that Malfoy could have a sense of humor, if a bit crude. And he was stubborn and determined, but that helped him get anything he wanted. He was crafty, and knew how to get what he wanted. And when the situation called for it, he was pretty brave. Harry looked up at the ceiling of the tent and got up.

"I don't know." He walked back out to get the portraits and they suggested they talk, all three of them.

"So, you sure you don't know why you care so much? You've been saying it for a long time now." Harry looked at his godfather, extremely confused. "You're attracted to him aren't you?"

"You knew that."

"Just physically?"

"I..." Harry meant to defend himself, but couldn't. He thought about all the soft looks he would get now instead of hard and calculating. He thought about seeing the man sleep, safe in the realm of dreams, where anything could happen. He played the memory of Draco asking him why he cared as he slept. Harry looked up at his godfather and Elizabeth with wide, fearful eyes.

He knew why and he wasn't sure it was good.

That night, Draco woke up at the sound of a dull thud and walked out to see what happened. He noticed that Harry's godfather was still awake, and trying not to laugh.

Trying was the keyword here, and a few seconds of looking around he saw what was making the portrait laugh. Harry had passed out cold.

"Black shut up. You might wake him." Draco picked the paintings up and put them face-down on the ground before picking Harry up. He carried him to the tent and pulled the sheets over his still form. The least he could do was make sure he didn't wake up with a sore back.

He then went out and shrunk Elizabeth back down to charm size and picked Sirius up.

"What happened?"

"Oh it was rich. He just now came to an important realization and it made him pass out in shock. I'm never letting him live this down!" And try as he might, he could not get another word out of the painting, no matter how many times he tried.

He walked into the tent half exhausted at three in the morning and saw Harry getting up.

"Get some sleep. I'll keep watch." Draco fell on the bed, intent on getting some shut eye. But try as he might, he just couldn't let the darkness take him. After about half an hour he heard voices outside.

"Harry, you need to do something about it. You can't just live your life alone."

"So what am I supposed to do? Get just enough one-offs to be pregnant and then let him ditch me? I can't just let him walk out of my life again. It was hard enough after school..."

"So you're going to hurt yourself more by continuing a job you despise and seeing the man you love live his life out without you? I don't think so. You've survived a lot, but that can kill you. Harry, I love you, you know this. I can't allow you to let something this good walk away."

"Rule number twelve Sirius."

"Fuck rule number twelve. You need someone to make you happy and that's exactly what he does." That was the last of their conversation he heard. He wasn't sure he would be okay knowing who they were talking about.

Elizabeth was sleeping soundly in her frame and Draco looked at all of the charms on his bracelet. The rose his mother had hand-gilded and painted was just as sad as ever. The petals were closed more than usual and the leaves were wilted. It meant that he was closed off to everyone around him and that he wasn't happy.

The small silver snake had streaks of green down its body and its eyes seemed oddly dead today. It was coiled in a little ball and looked out of half-closed eyes. The dragon was in a similar position and neither looked at all happy. In fact, they all looked downright miserable.

The snowflake had changed from a bright white to almost yellow and the edges drooped. Draco stared at the bracelet his mother gave to him when he started Hogwarts and felt a tear slide down his face.

He remembered the confused look his father gave them as she took him to the nursery. He remembered her telling him that Elizabeth would be able to talk to her if he needed anything. He remembered her telling him that the charms she would give to him were exact replicas of hers and that they would reflect his mood.

He thought about how he'd never be able to get another charm for his bracelet and let the tears fall as they formed. He didn't bother trying to stop them and before he knew it they stopped.

The opening of the tent shifted and Harry walked in as Draco got up to get dressed for the day. They spent the remainder of the next month moving around from place to place and keeping watch hours.

"Harry when are we going to actually do something?"

"Today. In case you never noticed, the past week we've been tracking these two scumbags. And today we're going to get them."

"Okay. I'll make breakfast today." Before he could do anything, he felt a crackle through his body. "GET DOWN!" Harry hit the floor and Draco cast a few spells in the direction of the intruders. He came face-to-face with his father and shot spell after spell towards them. He sent every feeling of hatred and betrayal towards him in the spells he sent speeding towards his physical replica. He had always vowed to never become like him and now was the time he was to prove himself right. That this man wasn't really his father. He sired him but was never a father.

A tripping hex hit him and he fell to the ground. He knew that he was dead, and yet he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted Harry safe.

He could see his father standing over him, and he waited for the death blow.

It never came. What happened next, Draco would never be able to know.

He passed out, the pain in his head too much to push away any longer. His last coherent thought was his hope that Harry got out alive.

Harry ducked as flashes of light flew around him, too shocked to get up. After a few moments, his body detached from his mind and sprang up, ready to cast as many spells as he could.

Later he would say that Draco, enraged and fighting, was a very intense sight indeed. At the time, all Harry could think about was his rage that Draco had to fight his father. He felt shock and anger, a shot of red followed by a numbing sensation, coursed through his veins as Draco passed out.

He flung binding curses at the two traitors, and heard two distinct thuds. His anger covered any surprise at catching them that fast and effortlessly. His footsteps fell slowly, distinctly, and he saw their eyes widen.

Bending over them, he smirked.

"I seem to recall catching you in second year with your diary stunt. What made you think you could fool me this time?" He turned to Lestrange. "And what made you think I wouldn't avenge Sirius?"

"YEAH YOU CONNIVING BITCH! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU FINISHED ME OFF, MAKING IT TEN TIMES HARDER FOR ME TO MEDDLE IN MY GODSON'S LIFE! WHY, MY OWN MOTHER-" and so the picture ranted for another minute or two.

"Sirius, shush. I sent them to Kingsley already, no need to make a fuss."

"Oh..." His godfather sounded a little put-out, and then Harry remembered he had a partner again.

"Draco!" Rushing to the blond's side, he cast a few diagnostic spells. When they all came back black with a crimson edge, Harry paled. He packed everything by a wave of his wand, not caring if their things got mixed up.

He'd fix that later.

He ran another quick spell on the smaller boy and seeing the same result a before, he sighed. Stable was as good as he could hope for at this point.

Harry picked him up and hurriedly apparated to St. Mungos, straight into an empty healing room. A healer jumped and hid all trace of shock upon seeing the pale man in Harry's arms. She had him set him down in a bed and ran several spells, when a team of seven or eight ran in, all slightly winded from the long run.

Harry watched her shoot out directions without really hearing her. He couldn't care less what they were doing, as long as it would fix Draco. After what seemed like forever, he felt his bottom hit a recliner.

"My team and I have managed to get him to a slightly better state, but not by much. The only thing we could do to help him was to put him into a magically started coma. He can awaken at any time, and we assume that he'd want to wake up with someone he knows. Do you know of anyone that could fit these requirements?"

"Yes. Me." She left shortly afterward. Harry sat and held onto Draco's hand. He wished the man were awake, but he knew he'd have awhile before hearing his voice or seeing his eyes again.

Two weeks later, the nurse came in and announced a visitor. Kingsley walked in after she walked out.

"Potter you've been in here two bloody weeks! We can't hold anyone longer than three. We need the paperwork done." Harry nodded and went back to staring at Draco's face, willing his eyes to open. "Harry. You don't understand. I need someone's memories and I need them by tonight. Malfoy is too unstable, his won't work even if he did manage to wake up today. I need yours."

"You know mine aren't good enough." His voice was soft, hoarse from not speaking in so long. He didn't have the energy to flinch at how small he sounded.

"I need them. If we can keep these two motherfuckers in prison, I need your memories." Harry just sat there, and finally nodded in defeat. He did make that obligation before becoming Draco's partner.

Since when did he start referring to Malfoy as Draco? He didn't have the energy to care, but he supposed it was when Harry saw him cry in sixth year in the bathroom. He hadn't been an arrogant prick, he was human in that encounter.

Kingsley, taking the nod as his cue to start, paused when Harry's hand came up as if to say 'not yet.' He waited and when Harry put his hand down he asked if he was all right. Harry nodded, short and jerky movements of his head. Knowing that his memories were usually worthless, he took extra care to go through every single detail in his mind before he let Kingsley start. It wouldn't do to have his memories fail them this time.

The spell was performed quickly and when he noticed Harry's expression become strained he considered stopping. He kept going, however, when Harry's face relaxed into an emotionless expression.

He only stopped when the thread of memories snapped, signaling Harry's thread of consciousness stopping completely for a split second.

Harry, being aware of every little detail around him, had let his subconscious wander to the mission and everything about the fight. He knew Kingsley would get every little detail he had taken in at the time it had happened and after he sent the criminals to the Ministry with a portkey he cut his memories off from the spell.

His eyes never left Draco's hand-the same hand he was holding as a matter of fact.

Kingsley seemed to get the hint and left shortly after getting Harry's statement, leaving the two alone. Harry stayed like that for another week, never uttering a single word or moving a muscle.

Exactly three weeks after the fight, Harry woke up to rain lightly pattering on the window. He looked outside and saw the rain pick up and looked back at Draco. He imagined never being able to see his eyes again, never being able to talk to him. Because that's what happened wasn't it? Draco was going to die.

A tear slid down his left cheek.

Harry came to actually care about the blond once he saw him show some emotion other than the cold vivaciousness he usually showed. He wanted him to wake up and didn't think it would actually happen. He felt more tears slide down his face and after a few moments of contemplating wiping them away, he just let them fall.

"Draco..." his voice was hardly audible from disuse. "Draco...wake up. I miss your company, I miss pissing you off. I miss running with you. I can't let that go-how can you just lay there when you know I'm torn up inside? I can't love you-I can't love anyone. But I have grown to care for you.

"I realize that you probably don't want anything to do with me, but I can't stand the thought of life without you. Wake up..." Harry's voice gave out then, preventing him from confessing anything else and begging for him to wake up. He hung his head and cried.

When Harry's body was so exhausted it stopped letting him sob while the tears slowed, he felt a slight movement on the bed. He looked up and saw what he thought he'd never see again.

The bright silver eyes of Draco Malfoy were staring at him.