Harry's breath hitched and as the heat pooled in his stomach. "I'm-"

Malfoy immediately drew away but Harry was already coming and when he opened his eyes he was met with an angry Malfoy with a good amount of it in his hair.

"Are you kidding me, Potter."

Malfoy's cheeks were pink with fury and he shoved Harry to the ground under him, knocking him breathless.

Harry pulled him down and kissed him, hard.

They broke the kiss much later. Malfoy closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Harry's, his breath warm on Harry's lips, his body warm in Harry's arms.

.

As Malfoy dressed to leave, Harry's eyes lingered on the new scar on his chest.

"Where is that from?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Malfoy traced the ones beside it, the lines so light Harry could barely see. "Not from you," he said, and Harry swallowed around his guilt. "My aunt."

It wasn't what Harry meant. It's not what Harry meant at all, but he found himself reeling at the answer. "Bellatrix? Why?"

Malfoy looked at him wearily. "Potter, leave it."

"I don't want to."

Malfoy buttoned his shirt stiffly in answer. The warmth was gone now.

Harry touched his shoulder and Malfoy shrugged his hand off, roughly. "You can't stop, can you Potter?"

"Why can't you just-"

"Because I couldn't Crucio them. I couldn't get it right, I couldn't get any of it right."
The way he said it left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth.

"I didn't know," Harry said. He didn't know anything about Malfoy during the War, but was beginning to.

Malfoy's face was lined with thinly veiled contempt. "I wouldn't expect you to care."

Harry stilled. "Malfoy, I -"

"Stop."

And this time Harry did. He just stood there in the darkness and watched Malfoy cover his body, cover his past.

He thought of Malfoy's marked body- the ink, the scars. He wondered which ones were placed there by somebody he thought he would keep him safe. Harry thought of his own scars- most of which had faded by now. He touched a hand to his forehead- a scar from when love did save him.

"Do you want to stay?" Harry asked.

"I can't, I have to be in at work early tomorrow," Malfoy said curtly. "I have a meeting."

It was only after Malfoy Floo'd home that Harry realized tomorrow was Saturday.

The Ministry was eerily empty on the weekend. The lights were dimmed and each movement seemed to echo and his breath catch in the air. A few goblins were trolling about, but hardly paid Harry any mind.

Ron's voice was ringing in his head. Getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry?

He resolutely ignored it.

Harry thought his footsteps sounded obscenely loud but remembered he was probably the only one there to hear them. He put on a muffling charm just in case. The lights were off in Malfoy's office so he slipped into the Department of Mysteries, under his Invisibility Cloak. It was empty in the Entrance Chamber.

Harry waited in the center of the room, breathing ragged in the silence and wondering how absurd it was that he was obsessing over Draco Malfoy again under his cloak, trailing after him, just like in his schoolboy days. He couldn't tell which room Malfoy had gone into-the doors rotated as soon as he entered one. So Harry stood still, waiting for what seemed like ages for Malfoy to reemerge.

The air was hot and thick under the cloak but Harry stood still with his muscles aching and the sound of his own breathing in his ear. His skin crawled in anticipation that became a fainter and fainter buzz until he wondered if perhaps there was another exit.

Finally, the doors rotated again and one in the center opened with a shrill creak.

Harry watched as Malfoy stumbled out. His mouth and nose were bleeding heavily and he dug into his robes furiously for a handkerchief. Harry inhaled sharply and felt his his throat tighten against itself. Harry held his breath as Malfoy hurried out, limping, into the hall and towards the loo.

He counted to 100 and then left too.

Harry sat at his office Monday morning, with his head in his hands.

Papers flew in and he let them. A heavy folder of Auror Evaluations sat on his desk, with red ink bleeding through the pages. Ron was freaking out over his write-ups but Harry hadn't even opened his yet.

"This isnt fair," Ron whinged, pacing back and forth as he read. "I'm hardly ever late. Harry!"

"Yeah, Ron."

It's just Malfoy's job. Harry told himself. He said he worked a lot of overtime. And he said injury was an occupational hazard, hadn't he?

But another part of him still didn't quite believe it. What kind of job-

It seemed almost masochistic, that Malfoy was hurting himself somehow, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling. Malfoy had enough scars as it was. What is he doing inside there?

He ignored another protest from Ron about forgetting the new coverpage for incident reports and shut the door.

"Draco Malfoy," he said into his mirror, which he kept propped on his desk beside pictures of Ron and Hermione and his parents. An image of Malfoy's office began to form, the stark grey of it filling the mirror. Harry felt a small tug of satisfaction at his chest; Malfoy did bring it with him to work after all.

The paleness of Malfoy's face blurred into the field of vision before snapping into sudden clarity, sharp brows and harsh mouth open, startled. As soon as Malfoy realized, his face settled into a thin expression.

"Potter."

"About Friday-" Harry started.

"It's fine."

"Okay."

Malfoy shifted in his seat. The clock on Harry's desk was ticking unusually loudly and he was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and then winced at how harsh it sounded in the silence. "Er. Long day at work?" he asked.

"Much too long," Malfoy said, resting his mouth on the back of his hand. The blinds were drawn most of the way, the yellow glow that made it through brandishing the metal desk and cabinets. The light glinted off the corners like winking stars, reflecting off the mirror and the rims of Harry's glasses. Malfoy seemed to notice and shifted the angle of the mirror so Harry could stop squinting. His desk was empty as usual save for the huge textbook Harry had seen him reading last time. He cocked his head to read the binding. B.P. Appearo.

"Did you ever finish your novel?"

"Oh, it's a page turner," Malfoy mused, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "And yes, actually, I did finish it."

"I should have you read through my Auror evaluations for me at the rate you go," Harry said, putting a hand on the folder at his desk.

Malfoy smirked. "You actually read those? I wouldn't bother, yours are probably a consensus on the fact that you don't zip your fly and that you're a bit slow on the uptake."

Harry looked down to his pants and let out a noise of frustration upon realizing he had been too slow to get the joke. Malfoy muffled his laughter into his hand.

"You're hopeless, Potter."

"You're the worst," Harry returned, his cheeks still tingling faintly. But he was glad they fell back into this, this easiness between them."You don't read your evals?"

Malfoy shrugged a shoulder lightly. "I don't plan on working here long. I don't need to see it on paper, I know I'm the best they've had."

"Humblest, too," Harry added and Malfoy smiled. Harry could feel the warmth of it, even through the mirror, and his limbs ached with the memory of the warmth of him too, pressed tight against him. Malfoy's fingers brushed his lips briefly as he set his hand down.

"Do you want to take a break with me for a bit? Just a coffee," Harry asked.

"I think I spend too much time with you as it is," Malfoy said.

"I think you spend too much time at work," Harry pointed out.

"Are you still obsessed with me?" Malfoy asked with mock innocence.

Harry rolled his eyes. "How old are you, twelve?"

"I don't believe I've called you Potty yet."

Harry laughed, the noise filling his chest, filling the emptiness he had felt this morning so starkly that he could hardly believe he felt it at all.

Malfoy pushed back from his desk. "I can't, I'm busy right now-"

"What do you do all day?" Harry asked, interrupting. Curiosity wiped the grin from his face.

Malfoy gave him a strange look. "I'm an Unspeakable, I thought we'd gone over this. Potter, you really are slow."

"No, I mean, what sort of things?"

"Department of Mystery things."

"I mean, what do you actually do all day?" Harry looked at him earnestly. He could already feel Malfoy retreating at the sudden interrogation, could see the beginning of a frown touching his forehead, the way his mouth twisted before he began to speak, so Harry spoke first, "I'm just worried about you. It's like you can't ever get away, not even for one night."

Malfoy looked at him flatly.

This was a stupid idea.Harry shook his head, "Sorry. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I-er-I guess I just wish you had stayed. I know you're busy, I'll let you go."

Malfoy's lips pressed thin for a moment, just long enough, before speaking again. "I test things out. Thought experiments."

"Oh," Harry said blankly. Wards and transport he remembered Ron saying. Training at Azkaban, and the Ministry.

Malfoy took it as confusion. "It's complicated," he said. "The mechanics of it."

Harry was wondering what kind of thought experiments could damage a body like that.

"Is it dangerous?" Harry pushed.

"It can be." Malfoy's voice was artificially level. "Why?"

"I want you safe."

Malfoy's face broke into disbelief, then laughter, not bothering to hide it this time. Harry frowned. He wasn't trying to be funny.

"I think I can handle myself," Malfoy said. "Though I'm touched."

"Yeah, in the head," Harry said crossly.

"Don't you have reports to be doing, Potter? A world that needs saving?"

"I hate writing reports. And I'm on break, anyway."

"You can buy me a coffee," Malfoy said lightly, "Or suck me off in your attic some other time, but I really am busy right now."

Harry flushed heavily at the memory. Then, biting his lip, "I can suck you off in your office some other time," under his breath.

Malfoy's eyes flickered with interest and the heat in it sparked down Harry's spine and pooled between his legs.

"Perhaps some other time," Malfoy agreed. "See you, Potter."

The scene dissolved off the plane of the mirror and Harry had to open a window.

Harry's evaluations had been phenomenal and he was promoted to Head Auror, much to his surprise and to the surprise of no one else.

At noon he was thrown a mini-party in the lunch room, with flat pop and lumpy pound cake.

Harry shook hands and kept looking over shoulders at the door.

It was silly, of course he didn't come.

"Some other time" was two hours later.

Harry had just returned with a carton of takeaway.

"Potter." Malfoy was in the mirror, already undoing his tie. "Your clothes, take them off."

"What-" Harry said, blindsided and in disbelief.

"Now."

"Oh, God," Harry almost moaned. He rose from his chair quickly.

"Sit down," Malfoy said, sharply.

"What, here? Through the glass?"

"10 points for Gryffindor."

Harry barely had time to adjust the mirror.

.
Harry's fingers stuttered over his buttons of his shirt, the fabric of his chair scratchy against his bare skin.

He looked at Malfoy who was leaning back in his seat, legs spread open, heels resting on top of his desk. His hair spiked on end where he was pushed up against his chair.

.

Harry stroked himself with studded breath, his eyes on the red of Malfoy's lips and the flat of his chest.

Malfoy's arm was moving so fast his thigh slipped off the table.

A second hand joined Malfoy's first under his desk and Harry came, spilling over his fingers and onto the floor.

He caught his breath while watching Malfoy finish. His eyes shut tight as he touched himself, mouth open and panting, and Harry wanted to cover that mouth with his own. Malfoy's breath hitched as he came, the heat of his body leaving transient fogs of moisture on the metal of his desk.

Malfoy wiped damp bangs out of his face and he sat up. "Now you can buy me a coffee," he said.

Harry laughed breathlessly, and reached for his trousers. "I will."

"So why are you quitting?"

"Sorry?" Malfoy looked up over his coffee. His lips were still slightly parted from blowing on the steam that tangled in his lashes and licked through his hair. The steam continued to rise uninhibited, curling about his face and under his jaw. The cafe was nearly empty with only a few patrons left with an open book or a lonely face. It had looked like it was going to rain when they left the Ministry and it was confirmed when the bell at the door jingled to let in a man wielding a sopping black umbrella.

"Earlier. You said you didn't plan on working here long," Harry said, wondering if perhaps he misheard.

Malfoy set his cup down with a clatter. "I didn't mean anything by it. Would you want to work at the Ministry for the rest of your life?"

Harry bit his lip in thought. "Forever is a very long time. But I do like my job."

"You would," Malfoy said, almost with disappointment.

Harry didn't quite know how to take that. "What do you mean?"

The rain started to come down hard now, Harry could hear it pounding on the roof and against the windows. He looked outside and saw the grey mist from rain hitting the pavement and the raindrops beaded on the glass like sweat.

"You never could get enough of the attention, could you?" The anger was starting to build in Malfoy's voice, rising slow and smooth. "Of course you like your job. Which bit is your favourite? Sending people to Azkaban?" Malfoy offered caustically.

"Upholding justice," Harry corrected, a little too defensively. He had almost forgotten Azkaban was a strained subject with Lucius imprisoned there. He had stopped reading the papers long ago, but this case- he had meant to look this one up. He shuddered thinking of how long Sirius had spent there, though he was innocent, wasting away alongside those who had committed far graver crimes than being a good friend.

"Justice," Malfoy repeated and snorted softly.

"What?" Harry asked, bewildered. "Right and wrong."

"Blame." Malfoy looked at him carefully.

Harry shook his head.

"Justice is the transfer of guilt between people," Malfoy said.

Harry frowned, letting the words soak in like water.

"Don't hurt yourself, Potter," Malfoy returned, picking up his drink again though Harry was sure it had gone cold. "I heard you're Head Auror now. You must be thrilled."

Up until that moment, Harry had been.

.

They stood awkwardly outside the coffee shop afterwards, under the awning. It should have been a dry place to stand but the wind blew the curtains of rain like a shower head, soaking into their robes, making it dark. The smell of wet cement rose from the ground like rolled cigarettes.

Harry held a brown bag of pumpkin pasties he had bought for Ron and tucked it closer to his chest. "I don't do it for the attention, you know."

"Oh?" Malfoy asked, staring up into the sky.

"My job."

"I suppose you do it because it makes you feel like you feel good inside," Malfoy said dryly, his eyes now on Harry's face.

"Something like that."

Malfoy sighed heavily. "Do you scamper up trees to rescue the stranded kittens of blind orphans as well?"

"I did pull a Pygmy Puff from a fireplace once," Harry admitted.

"My hero," Malfoy said. But the wry smile barely overshadowed the disappointment.

It was late afternoon and the thick weariness of other Ministry personnel washed over Harry when they re-entered the building. Harry walked Malfoy back to his office, his nose still cold from being outside.

"No way, Malfoy. A helicopter? On a day like this?" Harry said incredulously.

"I was trying to fly over the storm. I remember it like yesterday," Malfoy insisted.

Their shoes left little water trails behind them down the hallway and Harry had given up on drying spells, content to just be, for now.

"How many propellers did it have, then?"

"Pro- what?" Malfoy asked, scowling.

"Flapping- you know" Harry made a whirling gesture with his fingers.

"I don't remember."

"'Like it was yesterday.'" Harry repeated, and Malfoy gave him a withering look.

"Shut up, Potter. Details."

"You do fly well," Harry conceded, giving Malfoy a sideways glance before grinning, "But not that well."

"Better than you," Malfoy retorted, meeting Harry's eyes and raising an eyebrow in challenge. His hair had dried mostly, dark at the roots and curling.

"Not a chance," Harry grinned, thinking of Hogwarts days on the Quidditch field, both of them diving for the same snitch. At times, he still felt like he was chasing something golden and bright, always just out of reach. As a boy, it used to be the sure-ity of goodness. Voldemort and the knowledge of what he had to do sat like a heavy weight in his mind, a dusty diamond, urging him forward with no time to look back. But now...he wasn't sure what he was rushing towards anymore or what he had missed in the chase.

"Believe it or not, it happened," Malfoy said, lips twisting smugly.

Harry gave him a skeptical look. "Right, and the Minister dances ballet."

Malfoy's laugh echoed all the way down the empty hall.

Harry paused. "Are you the only person that works on this floor?" he asked, finding the corridor barren as he had every time.

"Nearly." Malfoy didn't slow his step.

"How you can make it all day without seeing anyone else is beyond me," Harry said, hurrying again to catch up to him.

"I'm shocked you didn't bring Weasley on our little date, you two are attached at the hip."

Harry smiled though Malfoy didn't seem to notice.

"You should use the mirror more often," Harry said softly.

"Perhaps." Malfoy unlocked his door and turned around.

"I mean it," Harry said, taking a step towards him, crowding him into the doorway. The grey in Malfoy's eyes crystallized as he took Harry in. Malfoy's hands came up for a moment before falling back to his sides.

"Alright," Malfoy said simply and it was the first time Harry had ever caught him with something less than brassy to say, so much so that Harry forgot what he was going to say.

"Oh. That's. That's great."

The way Malfoy was looking at him now was so sharp and charged that Harry could feel it coursing through his own body, hot on his skin as if it were a touch. His mind was a nest of static and when one of them pressed closer, his mind went completely blank.

Malfoy's breathing was the only movement between them and it pushed their chests together in even beat. Their clothes were wet still and pressed into Harry's skin, damp and cold.

The rain water gathered like silver pellets around Malfoy's jaw and Harry smoothed them with his fingertips as they melted into each other. The paper bag in his other hand crinkled while they kissed.

The mirror chats became easier after that.

The days flew by for Harry, filling the time in between cases with conversations with Malfoy. There was a Muggle woman on Thursday who accidentally found herself in the Ministry after dialing MAGIC by pure coincidence in the telephone booth outside. Her upper lip, slathered in lipstick, quivered like grape jelly before Harry Obliviated her. Malfoy told him about the first time he ever encountered a Muggle. He had been so sure they would be more troll than human. Harry told him he had thought wizards all wore pointy hats and that witches had green skin. Malfoy was mortally offended.

On Friday, there was a complaint about a smell coming from the basement of a house in near Diagon Alley. Harry had spelled down the door to find a dead Witch who had hung herself and left no note behind. He told Malfoy about what it felt like to die. Malfoy was very interested to know if it hurt and Harry told him it hurt more to leave the ones you love behind. Malfoy seemed unconvinced.

There was a bad batch of wolfsbane potion making its way around the backstreets of London and Harry spent most of the next week following leads. He made the mistake of asking Malfoy about wolfsbane ingredients and he talked about potions so fervently that Harry was convinced he could have given Snape a run for his money. When asked why he went into wards and transport instead, he fell silent. Harry felt bad for bringing it up.

By the week after, Harry finally had a tip from a wolfsbane dealer who had been screwed in a short shipment. He and Ron broke into the small lab and found the guy-barely more than a teenager brewing in his bathtub- and were both relieved and disappointed that it had been so easy.

It didn't make the papers, but it was something.

Though Harry had been more excited to see Malfoy in the mirror afterwards.

"Ron told me you've been dating someone," Hermione said, spreading jam over her bread.

Harry swallowed his toast half-chewed and it went down rough. "Did he?" Damn it, could Ron hear him in the mirror all this time?

"A girl named Lisa?"

Harry felt the relief wash over him, mixing with his laughter. "Oh, no. No, I don't even know Lisa."

Harry needed to clear his head and he couldn't think of any better person to air out his thoughts to besides Hermione. He had suggested they meet for breakfast (without Ron) and Hermione seemed to cotton on as to why the second she embraced him.

"Who is it, then?" she asked patiently. She looked at him with bright eyes, already smiling a little. She had been there for him before Ginny. She had been there for him after Ginny. He never told her how grateful he was but he supposed she already knew.

Harry put the toast back on his plate. "The thing is, we're not seeing each other. I mean, we see each other but- only in the mirror and it's-they're not proper dates, anyway..."

She looked puzzled for a moment but nodded for him to continue anyway, bushy curls coming loose about her face though she had pushed them back a moment before.

It was loud in the restaurant with the clacking of plates and chatter of voices. Somehow it felt better to be telling her here instead of with his head in a fireplace. "I don't know." He rested his head on his hand, tapping at his silverware with the other. "I don't know if he's interested, not really anyway. I mean, I'm not sure what he wants," He looked up to watch for any change in expression from Hermione at the pronoun use. There was none. God, he loved her.

"Why don't you just ask him?" She said, frowning.

"It's not that easy!"

"Oh, honestly! It is that easy, Harry," she chided, her cheeks becoming ruddy with incredulity. "Do you have feelings for him?"

Harry shrugged halfheartedly. "I think I do."

"And you can't tell if he feels the same way?" she pressed.

Harry felt exasperated, searching for the right words. "I don't know, I'm afraid he's just-"

"Do you think he's using you?"

The clamor in the restaurant seemed to dim and Harry's mouth opened in surprise. "What? No, I don't- what could he possibly be using me for?"

She put a hand on her hip. "Oh, I don't know, Harry. If there is no other reason to spend time with you I should think his actions speak for themselves."

Harry brightened at that. "Maybe you're right, Hermione." Harry pressed his fingers into the tablecloth, the weave of the fabric under his skin tethering him (though barely) from thinking about what that meant.

Hermione still looked contemplative, like in school, recalling the Latin root of a charm with a finger pressed to her lips. "Does he make you happy?" she asked finally, warm eyes moving between his in earnest.

Harry paused even though he already knew the answer. "Yeah, he does." He let out a deep breath, like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Then he frowned and amended his statement. "Though I think he irritates me more."

Hermione smiled at him fondly. "I think you should go for it."

He let out a nervous laugh. "You think so?"

She put her hand on his arm. "Harry, you just told me he makes you happy. You deserve to be happy all the time."

"Harry, come quick!" Ron shouted, appearing in the doorway. "Malfoy's fighting someone!"

Harry snapped up from his desk. "What? Who's he fighting with?"

"Who knows, loads of people hate him. It's brilliant, Malfoy did it without a wand!"

The two rushed down the hall.

Harry recognized his voice before he saw him. It was the same Auror who had jeered at Malfoy the first day outside his office. As he rounded the corner, he saw the man on the floor, curled up in pain, glaring up at Malfoy with disgust, "... filth like you. I know what's going to happen to your father. And I'll laugh when it-"

Malfoy backhanded him. "Shut up!" His face was scrunched around the eyes and his mouth an ugly shape. He was heaving as he stood, his chest rising and falling like a wounded bird's.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted, breaking into a run. Ron was at his heels.

"Bet you'd like to kill me, wouldn't you?" The man crowed, "It's been a while, hasn't it? Murderer. How you sleep at night, how you dare show your face here like a decent-"

"Fuck you!" Malfoy shouted at him, spit flicking from his mouth around the words. Harry's heart was pounding as fast as his feet were pounding on the tile. His mind was blank but his chest was tight. As Harry neared, he saw Malfoy was stepping on the Auror's wandhand, the wand had rolled off against the wall.

"Should have your mother Kissed, too-"

Malfoy hit the man again, this time drawing blood.

"Malfoy, stop!" Harry pulled Malfoy back by the arm. Harry had never seen him so angry, his whole face was contorted in rage. His face was angles and open space, brow drawn, nostrils flared, and teeth bared. Harry felt himself shudder.

"Potter, let go," he hissed.

The man took the opportunity to spit in Malfoy's face and Harry shouted "Immobulus!" with a pointed wand before Malfoy could react.

"Harry!" Ron sounded scandalized as if he had struck the wrong man.

The Auror froze on the spot.

"Ron, can you give us a minute?" Harry asked, breathless.

Ron frowned as he looked curiously between Harry and Malfoy but nodded. He turned and went back the way they had come. His footsteps retreated slowly, the sound of trainers slapping against the floor getting weaker and weaker until Harry couldn't hear them anymore.

"Can you stop being a hero for five bloody minutes, Potter?" Malfoy said in a quiet voice. He was still shaking, his voice shook. There was a glistening streak on the sleeve of his robe where he had wiped the spit from his cheek.

"You were hurting him," Harry said numbly. "Why didn't you just use your wand?"

"He deserved it."

"He's not worth it!"

"I never killed anyone!" Malfoy shouted, his eyes narrowed in on Harry as if he couldn't believe Harry could ever think it. Harry swallowed hard because he knew there was a moment in time when he thought Malfoy could, would.

"I know you didn't!" Harry said.

"Yeah, you know. They don't. They all-" Malfoy was short of breath and ran his hand through his hair. It was rumpled like his robes.

Harry bit his lip. They all-what, hated him, blamed him? I wouldn't expect you to care, Malfoy had said.Harry felt a lump building in his throat, heavy. He hadn't even given thought to what being a Malfoy must mean these days. He hadn't cared enough at the time to find out.

"My father-"

"You're not your father!" Harry cried, his voice breaking.

"I never said I was!"

"Then stop acting like it. His guilt isn't yours!"

Malfoy's face went sour. "I did things too, I tortured people."

"They made you. She made you. That hardly-"

"But I still did it!" Malfoy looked disgusted with himself, a fragility in the grey of his eyes that was raw and damaged. "You wouldn't have, would you, Potter? Always the noble route, how utterly Gryffindor. That's the difference between you and me! I'll never be like you. You were never meant to be Slytherin! You never could be."

Harry swallowed. "Look Malfoy, I know you're scared-"

"Are you calling me a coward, Potter?" Malfoy snarled, backing off.

"No, I'm not. Malfoy, I-" Harry took a step forward.

Malfoy looked away.

"Malfoy, you've been through a lot. And you must have had a lot of courage to come this far. They're wrong, about you, I-" Harry shook his head, "You're a good person, I know you are."

Malfoy let out a shallow breath. "I told you I didn't need you to forgive me."

"I'm not forgiving you, I'm telling you that you're better than this. You always have been, you just didn't know it yet."

Harry's mouth was open still. There was more, but the words wouldn't form, he was fumbling for them. His heart ached and his throat was closing around these words that he still couldn't muster.

Malfoy was still looking away.

Harry licked his lips and put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder. It slipped down his arm a little. He looked at Malfoy and saw the little boy he had met eleven years ago who had extended his hand for friendship.

He took Malfoy's hand in his.

Malfoy leaned forward and put his head on Harry's chest.

A/N Please review!