The castle became unbelievably quiet at night; its corridors and classrooms abandoned, its air lacking the constant chatter and laughter of bright eyed students, and its inhabitants slowly lulled to sleep by their own exhaustion. The sun set, and it was as if the world around them simply stopped and rested for a while.

It was a well deserved rest.

Except, did Draco Malfoy deserve that? After all he had done, did he deserve to reside within these walls he had been ordered to – had been meant to – tear down? Did he deserve to indulge in the protection and warmth the castle provided when not too long ago he had been its threat? Did he deserve to stand here among the people he had hurt in the process, the people he had turned his back on and betrayed?

He didn't, did he?

They all thought he didn't, whether or not they let him know, he knew.

He could hear their whispers, even now, in the quiet castle as everyone slept. The group of students huddled together outside in the courtyard, the girls talking in hushed voices in the back of the classroom, the boys by one of the tables in the Great Hall. They wanted him to be able to hear them.

Traitor.

Defector.

Death Eater.

They thought he was planning something, that he was still on their side.

He could feel their eyes on him constantly, whether they were really looking at him or not. Their eyes followed him as he trudged down the corridors every single morning, narrowing were he to catch them looking, and he would endure it for a bit until his breakfast didn't appeal to him anymore or the words in front of him blended into one another.

Their gazes were filled with disgust, with resentment, and with anger, and they let him know that.

He could see that every single one of them hated him. Were he to walk through a crowded corridor, they would nudge their friends and stare as he passed. They would step out of his way as if he were contagious, as if his mere presence would cause them bodily harm. They would twirl their wands in their hands and describe just what they would do, if only the professors were not around.

He couldn't blame them, because they were right, weren't they?

However, there seemed to be someone who didn't agree with them. Harry Potter, the very same one they all praised and applauded, worshiped even. Someone so completely unexpected, yet, strangely, it made perfect sense.

Draco turned his head to look at the man beside him. He was fast asleep, if the steady rhythm of his chest moving up and down was anything to go by, and it was a fascinating sight. He couldn't remember the last time anyone willingly occupied his personal space, not to mention slept beside him.

He could laugh, would, was it not in the middle of the night and were there not other people sleeping in the room. It was absurd, really.

Harry Potter had come to stop him – to convince him – earlier that night, as if he knew. As if he knew he was there, hesitating, debating whether or not it was all worth it anymore.

Would he have done it, were he not there?

Should he have? Was that what he deserved?

"Why?"

Beside him, Harry stirred, and Draco watched him roll onto his side with a deep sigh. Like that, with barely any space between them, he could see the intricate details of his face. The line between his brows as they furrowed, the lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones from the dim light peeking through the curtains of the bed, and the relaxed curve of his lips as he rested.

"Why didn't you leave?"

He sighed, shutting his eyes. The sun would be rising soon, probably, and he needed the rest whether he deserved it or not.

"You deserve a second chance."

His words were gentle, hushed, and he would have missed them were they not so close. Still, Draco's eyes snapped open. When they adjusted to the dark, Harry gazed into his eyes, and his eyes were soft, kind, and void of any of the resentment everyone else seemed to share for him.

"Do I?" Draco questioned. "After all I've done, everything I was meant to do, do I really deserve that?"

"You know," Harry began, and rolled over onto his back again to stare up at the ceiling, "I didn't have a very nice life before all of this, before this whole world I've become part of.

"The ones that were meant to take care of me, to love me like my parents were meant to, like they were meant to, didn't. They hurt me, pushed me out of their sight as if I was nothing but a burden, as if they couldn't stand me just being there." He swallowed, audibly. "Every night I prayed, hoped and wished I could get my parents back, because they would never treat me like that, would they? Wasn't I deserving of love, of kindness?"

Draco furrowed his brows at that, wondering where this was going. He wasn't exactly feeling very reassured.

"When I visited them not too long ago and talked to them, I knew they hadn't changed, and I don't think they ever will." He paused, eyes narrowing as if he had spotted something intriguing up on the ceiling, and several moments passed.

"Except maybe one of them."

He turned his head to look at him. "He's a product of an environment and ideology his parents have pushed on him since he was young, it's all he's ever known, and yes, he might not always have treated the people around him well, but I think he's beginning to realise that. Or, maybe he has always known, deep down, but just hadn't known.

"And," Harry smiled, "I think, the fact that you're asking me this, is proof enough to me that you've figured out where you really stand."