Summary: In the third year of the war, Draco is discovered as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Snape brings him to Grimmauld Place for safety. But months of being locked in a house with Potter take their toll, and soon both boys are in over their heads.

Pairing: Harry/Draco. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Warnings: Unbetaed, all mistakes are my own. Sexual content. Language.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything affiliated with his world belong to J.K. Rowling.

Draco's next memories were of terrible pain. He had no sense of time. It could have been hours or months that he had been lying there, feeling his bones mending and regrowing, his skin knitting back together, his scars fading.

Draco floated and dreamed. He had no idea of what was real and what was made up by his subconscious. He had visions of flying, streaking across the sky with Harry by his side, one hand outstretched for the snitch. When he would turn to look at Harry, his grip on his broom would slip, and he would fall, tumbling towards the ground.

He fell into the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The white peacock feathers under him cushioned his landing. The Manor was restored to pre-Dark Lord days. The sun was shining. His parents were in the garden. He could hear them talking about him, even though he was right there.

"Is he ever going to recover?" His father asked.

"Eventually," assured his mother.

"What are we going to do with him?"

"We'll wait and see," said Narcissa.

:o:

When Draco woke up, the pain increased. He moaned, the sound rough and rasping to his ears. His eyes were so crusted over that he had trouble opening them. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Harry, standing next to his bed with an expression of heartfelt relief on his face. "Thank Merlin, you're awake. Here drink this." Harry passed him a vial of potion and propped him up on the headboard. "I'll go get Madame Pomfrey, she's not going to be happy with me waking her at this hour, but…" Harry favored Draco with a smile before leaving to fetch Madame Pomfrey.

Draco drank the potion, managing not to wince at the foul taste. It was a painkiller and immediately got rid of most of the pain. Unfortunately it couldn't have been administered earlier, but he had been out cold. Pain potions had to be taken conscious, or else risk horrific side effects.

Draco looked around the room. He was back in his room at Grimmauld Place. It was dark out, and the only light came from a bedside lamp. Draco looked down at himself and saw bandages all over. He couldn't remember what happened, the last thing he remembered was tripping the Dark Lord. Draco supposed that the Dark Lord has cursed him with some obscure, painful curse.

The door opened and Madame Pomfrey bustled in. "You're finally awake, I see. Ah, good, you drank that potion. Now lie back and let me check you over."

Draco submitted to the matron's will. He had learnt, after many experiences in the Hogwart's Infirmary, that it was easier that way. She cast some basic diagnostic spells on him, making sure he had healed correctly.

"Everything looks good, Mr. Malfoy. You were out for almost two weeks, however, and we will have to see if there are any nasty side effects such as memory loss. You took quite a nasty blow to the head."

"What happened?" Draco croaked.

Madame Pomfrey tutted. "A chandelier fell on you. Almost killed you, as a matter of fact."

Well that explained why Draco felt like hippogriffs had gone on a rampage all over him.

"Now, drink this Dreamless Sleep potion. When you wake up tomorrow, you should be well enough to get out of bed. Come see me immediately."

Draco took the vial and drained the potion. He heard Madame Pomfrey bustle out the door just before sleep claimed him.

:o:

Draco's sleep was much more peaceful this time, thanks to the Dreamless Sleep potion. He awoke feeling refreshed and rested, although still in pain. He got out of bed and walked over to his closet, wincing as he went. His legs felt sore after weeks of disuse, and he had to rest after he finished dressing.

When he felt strong enough, Draco went looking for Madame Pomfrey. On his way, he passed Granger in the hall.

"Malfoy! You're awake! Thank God. We were getting worried. How are you feeling?"

"Granger," he said. "I'm well. Can you tell me where I could find Madame Pomfrey?"

"Oh, of course. Third door on the left on the second floor." Draco nodded his thanks. Granger smiled at him again, then walked past him. Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and worked up his nerve to call after her.

"Granger!"

"Yes?"

"What happened?"

Granger broke into a bright smile that made her look almost attractive. "Harry won." Draco felt a weight lifting from his chest and smiled back. Feeling much happier, he went in search of Madame Pomfrey.

*

After over half an hour of scans, diagnostics and all manner of medical tests, Madame Pomfrey pronounced Draco safe and sound. Even worse than all the tests, though, was having to suffer through a lecture about how war was dangerous, and they should have never let mere children (Draco has bristled a bit about that) fight needlessly.

Feeling very glad to escape the matron, Draco went in search of food to quiet his growling stomach. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, having caught sight of Mrs. Weasley. He stood debating leaving, but had no choice when his stomach gave a particularly loud grumble that appeared to startle Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh my, you startled me, dear. Oh, M-Draco, you're up! Harry is going to be so very relieved. He was worried sick about you. Come in, come in. I'll make you some breakfast. It's the least I can do after everything you've done."

Draco was openmouthed in the face of this very unexpected welcome. With a sense of deep shock and confusion, he allowed Mrs. Weasley to lead him to the table and situate him.

"After everything I've done?" he questioned her.

"Of course, dear. Harry told us all about it. You destroyed one of the Horcruxes and then you distracted him so Harry was able to cast the killing curse. Not that I'm condoning violence, of course." She frowned. "But in some cases it is warranted. That madman killed two of my boys and took another away from me. He deserved what he got."

"What happened after Harry killed the Dark Lord?"

Mrs. Weasley looked up from her cooking. "Ah, that's right. You were out cold from the chandelier. Well, it was chaos. Everyone was watching Harry and You-Know-Who, so everyone saw him die. The Death Eaters tried to flee, but they couldn't get past the wards. The only reason the Order could was that a young Death Eater, something Nott, I believe he was in your year at Hogwarts, told Moody how to get past them. Here you are, dear."

Shaking away his disbelief at being called dear, Draco filed facts away. He would get the more complete version of what happened later, from Granger, but for right now it was good to know the basis of what happened. And besides, there was food.

"As I was saying, the Death Eaters tried to flee, but they couldn't. Kingsley had gone for Auror reinforcements, and we had the Death Eaters under control in no time. A few of them fought until the death, like Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband, but most went quietly once they realized there was no escape.

"Your father," said Mrs. Weasley, with a very dark look on her face, "tried to kill Harry. Hit him with a killing curse. Harry went down, and about thirty Order members shot the curse right back at him. Ron's hit him first, though." Draco detected a hint of pride in her voice. "I'm sorry for your loss."

'The amazing thing is,' Draco thought, 'she actually sounds sincere about being sorry, while condemning his father in the same breath.' Weasleys never ceased to amaze him.

"Did you say hit Harry with a killing curse? Because Harry's still alive, I saw him last night." Draco's coma had taken a toll, because he didn't manage to control the curiosity in his voice.

"Yes, it was the strangest thing. The curse hit Harry, and he seemed to absorb it. He was knocked down, but he got up right away. It must be whatever protection his mother gave him is still working."

Draco had his own theory about that, but kept quiet. He listened as Mrs. Weasley nattered on, mostly tuning her out. When he was done, he was almost out the door before he remembered his manners.

"Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley turned and smiled at him again. "You're welcome, dear."

:o:

Draco found Hermione in the library, reading.

"Everyone's in a celebratory mood today," he remarked. "I must have gotten three smiles from random Order Members on my way here." Hermione chuckled but didn't look up from her book.

"Where are your other two thirds?"

"Ron is visiting Seamus in St. Mungo's, and Harry is out doing a variety of public functions. He's the Boy-Who-Lived twice, you know."

"Granger, I think I'm rubbing off on you."

"I know, it's simply terrible." Granger's tone signified she was joking.

"It's a gift," Draco informed her.

"Oh, I almost forgot, a letter came for you when you were unconscious. It's on the table over there." Granger pointed in a vaguely leftwise direction.

Draco walked over to the table and immediately found his letter. It was on very expensive parchment, and years of pedigree lessons with his mother made the crest recognizable as the Greengrass's.

"It's a very fancy letter," Granger said, ill disguising her curiosity.

"It's probably from old Emmanuel Greengrass about my engagement."

Granger sputtered. "Engagement? Are you serious? You're engaged? To who?"

"Asteria Greengrass, she was two years behind us at Hogwarts. It's been arranged since she was born."

"That's barbaric! You can't be forced to marry—Did you hear that?" Granger cut herself off and turned towards the door.

"What? No."

"Hmm. I thought I heard something. I must have imagined it. Anyway, you can't be forced to marry someone against your will! That's, that's insane. You should be able to marry whomever you want. You should-"

"I know, Granger. But it's an old pureblood tradition. Of course, now that both my parents are dead, I don't have to honor it, and I don't intend to. My parents are gone, and I intend to do whatever I want, not what they want."

"Oh," Granger's righteous indignation subsided. "Well, that's alright then."

Draco opened his letter and frowned at it. "Why wasn't I taken to St. Mungo's? The Greengrasses said they looked there but couldn't find me."

"You were, but the healers determined that there was nothing wrong with you, you just had to wake up on your own. So Harry insisted you be brought back here."

Draco had to suppress some Hufflepuffish urges at that news.

*

The next few days flew by. Draco received a summons for his trial. Weasley, Granger and Shacklebolt all assured Draco the trial was merely perfunctory, just to clear his name on record. Fudge resigned as Minister, and despite much of the Wizarding World clamouring for Harry Potter as the new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt was elected. Slowly the crowd of oppression and gloom that had covered the Wizarding World for the past few years lifted.

There were parties and celebrations of all sorts. Draco felt it best not to go to them until he was cleared. The newspapers had printed articles talking about his "dramatic double-cross," and how Draco "was indeed the boy Albus Dumbledore knew him to be," but there would doubtless be a few people who judged the boy by the father. And Lucius Malfoy had hurt a lot of people.

Draco did, however, attend Ron Weasley's twentieth birthday party held at the Burrow. He even managed to not make one comment on the shabbiness. That party was the first and only time he saw Harry in a week and a half.

Of course, Harry was now the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Defeat-Voldemort, so his presence was expected at all the parties. The entire Wizarding World wanted to shake Harry's hand. Draco tried not to feel left out. It was perfectly understandable that Harry should be busy. What wasn't understandable, however, was the fact that Harry almost seemed to be avoiding him.

Draco also didn't quite understand the pictures on the cover of the Daily Prophet, showing Harry and Girl Weasley with their arms around each other. One cover they were even kissing.

Draco was sitting in the library, frowning at the newspaper where Harry was kissing Girl Weasley on the cover. Harry was just so bloody confusing. One day he says he loves Draco, the next he's back in Girl Weasley's arms. Add that to the fact that Harry seemed to be avoiding Draco, and you'd think that it was just a wartime romance, and it didn't mean anything to Harry.

But Harry had said he loved Draco. Sure, it wasn't to Draco's face, but it felt and sounded real. Of course, they had been drinking. But Draco wasn't the type to make up elaborate fantasies and confuse them for reality. And it had felt real.

Just then, the door to the library opened. "Oh, good. Hermione told me I could find you in here." It was Harry. Only he sounded weird and was fidgeting with the pocket of his robe. (When had Harry started wearing robes again? He had to wear them to the recent formal events, but these were everyday robes.)

Draco straightened up. He had been sitting slouched in an armchair, sometimes gazing at the newspaper and sometimes gazing at the fire.

"I just wanted to officially thank you for the part you played in the war. It was very brave of you, and undoubtedly helped us win."

Draco's ingrained manners took over and he said, "You're welcome." Inside, he was reeling. Harry was being too formal, and why in Merlin's name was he thanking Draco.

"The main reason I'm here is to say goodbye. I'm moving out today, into a flat Ginny and I bought. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need, of course."

"What are you talking about? Are you getting back together with Girl Weasley?" A slight note of hysteria had crept into Draco's voice.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't call my girlfriend that. And yes, we're getting back together. I broke up with her because of the war, and now that the war is over and it is safe for us to get back together, we have. To be honest, we weren't really broken up. We both knew we were waiting for each other."

Draco thought nothing could hurt more than the chandelier falling on him. He was wrong. This was much more painful. Sucking in a deep breath, Draco asked, "But what…"

Harry paused on his way out the door. "Yes?" he asked, after Draco left his question unfinished.

"So that's it then? You're just going to forget everything we had?"

Harry made an incredulous sound. "I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about."

Draco resisted the urge to shake Harry. "I really don't give a damn. I want to know why you're walking out on me!"

"There isn't anything to walk out on. Besides, why do you care? You're just going to go back to your fiancée and get married and have lots of blond-haired babies!" Harry looked like he was restraining himself from shouting.

"What?" Draco made a confused sound. "Astoria? I broke the engagement off. It was arranged by my parents. I want nothing to do with it."

"But, it's everything you want. The perfect pureblood wife, the heirs. Why…?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Because," he said in a quiet voice, "I'm in love with you." He stared down at the floor. Harry's feet were stock still on the carpet, halfway out the door. Draco didn't look up as the door shut and Harry approached Draco.

"You, you're in love with me?" Harry sounded incredulous.

Draco allowed himself to look up. "Yes, I am."

Suddenly he found himself with an armful of Harry. He allowed Harry to hug him and draw him into a kiss. Harry drew back slightly and whispered against his lips. "I love you too."

End