The fifth year Gryffindor dorm was tense that night. Ron was still angry with Hermione for telling him to shut up. Dean was surly and refused to speak to anyone. Neville was upset over his recent Defence Against the Dark Arts mark. Harry and Seamus shared a baffled look before drawing their curtains.

Harry's eyes jerked open as a hand closed on his arm. He threw his free hand towards the shape standing above him.

"Harry, it's me," a familiar voice said as the person stepped away from the blow. "I need to talk to you."

Harry groped around for his glasses and shoved them on. Squinting, he could make out bright blond hair and a pointed face. "What time is it?"

Draco shifted uneasily. "About 2, I think. Can we go to the common room?"

Harry pulled himself out of bed and shuffled towards the door. He stopped for a second, pulling a blanket from his bed and wrapping it around himself. The dormitory was cold in the January air.

The fire had burned down low in the common room. Harry sprawled out on a couch as Draco sunk into a nearby armchair. For a moment neither of them spoke.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, noticing the unhappy look on Draco's face.

Draco sighed shakily. "I keep having nightmares." He ran his hand through his hair. "Usually I can forget about them and get back to sleep but they've been getting worse. The Ravenclaws are really great, but tonight I just needed-" he glanced at Harry. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you up. I'll go back to bed."

"No, it's okay." Harry said. "I understand. Is it your mother again?"

"Sometimes. But other times it's you, and Ron and Hermione and Luna, and sometimes it's Him, and sometimes I'm being hunted, and in some of them everyone dies, and it's all my fault. It's always all my fault." Harry watched as Draco scratched at his arm angrily.

"Your Mark. It's burning, isn't it?"

Draco looked up. "Yeah. It hasn't for a few days, but they must be doing something big tonight." He lifted his sleeve to reveal the swirling black shape.

Harry sat silently for a minute, lost in thought. Finally, he blurted his thoughts out. "What do you really believe, Draco? At Slughorn's party you said something to Scrimgeour, about your beliefs never changing. What did you mean?"

Draco let his face fall down into his hands. "I don't know," he whispered. "It's all so confusing. I've always been taught that muggles are evil and stupid and beneath us. But then you showed me their world this summer, and everything I knew was wrong. And Hermione is brilliant, and so nice, and the other muggleborns I've talked to have been the same. I'm not any better than them, not really. But all I've ever known is that purebloods are better, and that mudbloods shouldn't be allowed into our world. And I don't know what to think, what to believe." He was sobbing now. "And I'm such a coward that I can barely admit it, because you're the first real friends I've ever had, and I'm so scared to lose you."

Harry slid across the couch towards Draco's chair and gently put a hand on his shoulder. "You're not going to lose us. And none of this is your fault. Your parents have done awful things, and they taught you terrible lies. But you made the choice for yourself to get away from it. Isn't that what really matters?"

Draco sniffed. "They're not all bad, you know. My parents. I really do love them. And I know that they love me. How can everything they taught me be wrong if they love me?"

"The Dursleys hated me, but they still managed to teach me a couple of decent things. Sometimes good people can be wrong, and sometimes bad people can be right. But being right doesn't make you good, just like being wrong doesn't have to make you bad. It's all about what you believe for yourself."

Draco slowly wiped his tears away before raising his head to look at Harry. "I believe that hurting or insulting people for something they can't control is wrong. Can that be enough for now, until I can figure the rest out?"

Harry gave him a reassuring smile. "I think that's a really good start."

The rest of that night Draco slept dreamlessly in the Gryffindor common room, wrapped in a discarded blanket.