AN: This is my first full chapter to this fic. This is also my first HPverse fic… Review please!

A Collection of Moments

August the 7th, Fourth year – Draco Malfoy

I snuck out of the dungeons, careful not to be caught as I fled for my sanctuary, the Astronomy tower. It's truly fitting that it is my safe haven, a place specified for viewing and studying constellations for the boy named after them, don't you think?

I ran, ignoring the pain in my bare feet as they slap continuously against the cold stone floor of the castle, not stopping until I had reached the top of the stairs and the door to the room that served as my sanctuary. I flung the door open then, and let it slam shut behind me. As soon as the sound of the door slamming shut in my wake echoed around me in the empty room, I felt my knees buckle under me and my legs give way. I collapsed onto the cold stone floor, landing on my hands and knees. My head hung so that my hair, which had grown to my shoulders over the summer, fell around my face like a protective curtain. That's when the tears came.

I don't really know how long I'd been in the moonlit classroom, or how long I'd been sobbing in silent anguish. I didn't even hear the door to the room open, or anyone enter it. I was too lost in my own pain to be aware of anything else.

Then, it seemed to happen as if by magic, I felt a hand curl against my right shoulder. No words were spoken, but that single, some how familiar, touch was my complete undoing. I folded forward, my hands sliding, arms bending, until my forearms rest on the cold floor beneath me, my forehead resting between them, and my hands clenching my hair by the roots. I released a heart wrenching wail then, and my sobbing only worsened, though how I had any tears left I will never know. Yet it was in this moment my entire world began to change.

The hand that had grasped my shoulder became arms; arms that wrapped around my torso and pulled my limp body against a strong, solid chest. I wrapped my arms around my middle then, as if the act would prevent me from crumbling into nothing, and melted into the unknown embrace. I pretended, hoped, yet never dared to dream it belonged to the one person I had ever wanted in my dark little world.

The arms rocked me for a long while in silence, a hand stroking my hair in a soothing way, something no one had taken the time to do for me, even in my infancy. Then, when my sobs had become nothing more than soft, fading, whimpers spilling from my lips, I heard the voice of my savior. I heard the voice I'd longed for and never dared to hope for.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was soft, caring, and the best sound I'd ever heard.

It took me a moment, to actually find my own voice. The words came out hoarse and weak, "You don't really want to know, not that you'd believe me anyway." I cringed at the sound. I sat up then, pulling myself out of his arms as I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, I could feel the scowl contorting my features. My skeptic, suspicious, nature taking the drivers seat, "What are you doing here, Potter? Why do you even care?"

"You, insufferable prat, are you seriously that stupid?" He seemed to be gauging my reaction for a moment before speaking again, "It's not like I hate you or anything, not really. We would have actually been friends from the beginning, if you hadn't been such an obnoxious, bigoted, bastard."

I shook my head, uncertain and suddenly extremely exhausted. I felt my eyes getting heavier and the lids drooping until Potter was nothing more than a fuzzy figure in front of me. I heard, rather than saw, him stand. He sighed, and for a moment I truly thought that he was just going to leave me on the floor –not that I could blame him. Then, he did something I never expected. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. "What are you doing, Potter?" I mumbled.

"I am going to help you back to your room." He stated it so matter-of-factly I'm not sure I could have protested even if he hadn't quickly followed his statement with logic. "You're nearly dead on your feet with exhaustion, and if you fall asleep here you'll be caught."

I tried to move forward towards the door, stumbling more like, and then it seemed the stone floor was rushing up towards me. I was falling! Yet, I never hit the ground. I felt an electric current go through me as Potter put his arm around my waist and lifted my limp arm around his shoulders. I heard him say, "Malfoy, I need you to hang on to me on your own just long enough for me to cover us, okay?" My head felt like it was made of led as I nodded, I felt him throw something over us, but nothing was more than a blur to me now. He grabbed my hand as it hung limp over his shoulder, his other hand tight on my waist.

I don't remember the walk from the tower back down to the dungeons. I don't even remember saying the password to let us through the portrait, but logically, I know I must have said it. The next thing I remember happening in my sleep deprived haze, was Potter laying me down on my bed. I felt him pull the covers and sheet from beneath me before laying them on top of me, actually taking the time to tuck me in! The last thing I remember is the sound of his soft voice, "Get some sleep, Malfoy. Things will be brighter in the morning." Then, the rest of my world went black.

Fourth year, August the 17th – Draco Malfoy 7pm.

Malfoy,

Were you aware that you talk in your sleep? There's much to discuss, I'll owl you when I have sussed out the best way for us to do so. In the meantime, realize I am not your enemy. This is an opportunity to correct the mistakes we made first year. You need a friend, so consider this the beginning. Your tears and the secrets I was privy to as you slept will remain between us. I will not be public about this change, yet. Nor will I show hostility towards you as long as you mind yourself publicly.

I read his letter for the hundredth time this morning. It has been ten days since that night, and I have scarcely slept since. True to his words though, no one learned of that night and as long as I did not harass him or his friends he was cordial. Yet, no owl had come. This morning I was fit to be tied. I have never been patient, so waiting ten days for ward was beginning to wear on me.

To my surprise, when I stopped off in my room to drop off my things before practice, my family's former house elf, Dobby, was sitting nervously on my desk. "Begging young master Malfoy's pardon, sir, Dobby was asked to come to you, for Harry Potter, Sir. He asked me to give you this and wait for your response." I winced as I watched Dobby cringe when I quickly reached for the parchment in his out stretched hand. Considering the treatment he received in the Manor I can understand why my excitement terrified him.

Malfoy,

I apologize for taking so long. I could not find a way to owl you without being intercepted. It took me some time to convince Dobby to bring this to you. Seeing as you have a private room, meet me outside the Slytherin entrance, we'd be better off talking in your room. Remember to thank Dobby and just tell him if the answer is yes or no.

-H. Potter

I looked over at the extremely nervous house elf with an uncertain expression, "Is he for real?"

"Harry Potter is a great wizard, an even better man. Would master wish Dobby's advice?" He asked me, large, beady, eyes studying me as he wrung his hands in front of him. He continued after I nodded once, "Young master Malfoy should let Harry Potter be his friend, master needs a true one, Dobby knows. Harry Potter is the truest."

I contemplated his words for a moment before nodding. "You're right. Thank you, Dobby. Tell Potter I will meet him at midnight where he requested."

"Mast is very welcome. Dobby is happy to help master find his true friend." Before I could say anything further to the hyper little bugger he disapparated with a loud crack.

11:55pm

I think part of me expected Potter to flake out, stand me up. So, imagine my surprise when I walk out of the entrance at 11:55 to find him already there. His features bore a sheepish expression, though I had no idea why. I didn't take the time to contemplate it at the time either. I ushered him into my common room silently. Neither of us said a word until after we were safely inside my room, a silencing charm up along with a locking one; just in case.

I raked a hand through my hair nervously, perching on the edge of my desk. I watched as he set aside his cloak and took a seat on the edge of my bed. Finally, terrified by the continued silence, I broke it curiously. I asked, "So, Potter, what exactly did you hear that night?"

"Honestly, at first you didn't make much sense. You kept saying; 'no, father, no!' That was the first hour, then; 'make it stop! Please!' You tossed, turned, begged, and cried. Then you got quiet for a little while before you started calling my name, my given one." When he finally stopped speaking he was looking at me expectantly, I'm unsure what he was looking for. Whatever it was, he didn't seem to get it. So, he started speaking again. He appeared to be studying me at the same time, "Will you tell me why you were crying in the tower? What were you dreaming that night?"

Had anyone else just told me that, or asked me something so personal and I would have hexed them into oblivion. But, there was something about his expression that melted me. There was something about his tone that made me wanted to tell him. Maybe I just decided I'd suffered alone long enough. "Things at home, for me, are not what I make them out to be. Fath –Lucius treats me as little more than a possession. Why do you think I followed him so blindly? Until this summer at least."

"What do you mean?"

"Nearly everything I do here, or ever, is because he told me to. I obeyed, because, like all children, I wanted my father to love me. Then, as I grew older, I obeyed out of fear." I paused, trying to decide how best to explain, unsure I could call it all by name. "You're aware how Dobby was punished when he lived with us, yes?" He nodded and I continued no longer able to look into those depthless emerald green eyes. "It's similar for me; at least, that is how it started."

I shook my head then, falling silent as I moved down to the floor. I hugged my knees protectively to my chest then. I wanted so badly, suddenly, to confide in him, but I was terrified too. If Lucius found out I'd told anyone it would only make things worse when I had to return to the Manor for Christmas. I also worried about what Potter would think of me when he learned it all. Would he truly hate me? Would he pity me? Would he be disgusted? Repulsed?

"How it started? Oh…" I could tell by the look on his face he had his suspicions, though I never thought he'd voice them. "So, when you were begging him to 'stop' in your sleep… He wasn't hitting you, was he?"

I shook my head, my blunt teeth digging into my bottom lip as I stared at the floor. I've known Potter since I was eleven, but we've never been friends, until now. At least, that's what he'd said we'd become. So, why did I suddenly feel like letting him in on even the smallest of the deep dark secrets that plague my sleepless nights?

We were both quiet for several minutes; of course it was Potter who broke the silence first. "You can talk to me about it, if you want. I told you before, whatever happens between us, stays between us, Malfoy, and I meant it. Sometimes talking helps, at least it seems to." The way he said it made me wonder if he and the other two parts of the trio were not as close as they appeared. I started to wonder if even Potter had secrets.

"I don't really understand what's possessed you to try and befriend me now, though I'm actually glad of it, but it's a bit soon to go uncovering all my secrets." I paused, looking up to meet his gaze, studying him. I sighed, admitting, "I don't even really know how to be a friend or have one. A real one at least, you know?"

"Yes, I know. Trust is the first thing you need to learn."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Just how do I do that, Potter?"

He shrugged, "You just put yourself out there, try, and be honest. You let me in here tonight, that's a start."

I could feel my insides twisting, constricting, terror over taking me as his words sunk in. I had let him in, and no harm had come of it. The night, that now seemed ages away, was still fresh in my mind. I remember how he held me. It felt –beyond words, to be so utterly comforted as I dealt, or tried to, with my burdens. So, for the second time, in front of The Boy Who lived; I cried.