The paperwork on Harry's desk was piling quickly. He'd left his desk and cubicle one time all day since returning from the investigation on Walden Macnair, and that was to use the loo. The investigation had been a short one; they had one witness from a grubby pub in Brussels who had supposedly seen the Death Eater, and this person had no leads to go off of. When asked what the man looked like they couldn't answer clearly. The trail was a dead-end, and Harry and his coworkers had returned to the office to busy themselves with trial paperwork, search warrants, arrest forms, and the like.

"Why the hell is there a divorce form here?" Harry muttered under his breath. His department didn't deal with that sort of thing because there was a department for all things marriage related, so why it ended up on his pile of parchments was a mystery. He had just placed the sheet of parchment in a separate pile from the rest, meant for other departments, when out of the corner of his eye he saw someone standing in the opening of his cubicle. Looking up, he saw Dean Thomas there, holding a Daily Prophet, and looking at him with silent confusion and what appeared to be mild disapproval.

"Here," Dean said, tossing the folded paper on his desk, which sent the pile of misplaced forms flying. Harry grunted in vexation and flicked his wand once, returning them to a neat stack.

"I'm busy, Dean. I don't have time to read the paper." Harry waved the man off, hoping he'd understand, and trying not to seem like a complete knob in the process.

"Yeah, well you may want to have a look at that, is all I'm saying. Also there's been another request for investigation on the Macnair case near Brussels, in Anderlecht. We're starting that first thing in the morning." Harry rubbed his weary eyes.

"Do they have legitimate evidence this time, or is it another case of 'Maybe, I'm not sure?'" This was the third time they'd been asked to investigate Macnair, and since this time the 'witness' was near Brussels he hoped there was some validity to it. "I was under the impression I'd be doing training when I started, not being put on the field right away. How are we supposed to catch him if I'm not even properly trained to do so?"

"Dunno, Harry. But I've been told we'll be starting training as soon as more of these escaped Death Eaters are rounded up. Guess we'll find out, won't we? Don't work too late, you'll regret it in the morning." Dean nodded and left the cubicle.

Harry rolled his shoulders, which were sore from sitting in the same position for the last five or more hours, and wondered why untrained Aurors were being made to work on the field. Perhaps it was due to the Ministry just getting back on its feet after being corrupted, Harry considered. There was bound to be a lot of extra work to do regarding the capture of escaped Death Eaters, as he was now beginning to experience, but he didn't understand why the newbies were being involved in rounding them up. Surely it'd be a lot easier to track and catch these people if strictly trained Aurors were being used to do so. Then again, a lot of Aurors had been fired after the Ministry returned to the side of the Light. Some had also died during the war, and now that Harry thought about it there was a shortage of them. Still, he couldn't help but think he'd be better off in training instead of sorting through a desk piled with papers.

Reminded of the work he was meant to be doing, he set the Prophet aside; he really didn't have time to read it. This pile of parchments was supposed to be sorted, signed, and filed by the end of the day, which was… Harry checked his watch. A half hour ago. Great. Another late day. At least with the office being closed the paper route would be shut off for the day and the irritating 'mail shoot,' as they called it, would be still so he could sort the pile out. Harry had been warned about the mail shoot. It was said that for every paper one filled out, another five flitted through the small opening, which really did look like a muggle mail slot. It was like receiving his Hogwarts letters all over again, five days per week. Clenching his teeth, he resumed his effort to not be home three hours late, which had been a regular occurrence since his first week.

After nearly two hours he was finished sorting and signing and organising the documents and forms. He stood up from his desk and stretched his arms and legs, already hating the sitting portion of his job. Then he noticed the folded Prophet set near the edge of his desk and jammed it into the back pocket of his trousers. He told himself he'd read it when he got home, after he ate dinner with Draco, who was probably wondering what the hell was taking him so long. Thankful that he didn't have to walk far, Harry found the nearest Floo and went home, stepped out of the fireplace and brushed any lingering soot from his new clothes.

"Harry!" Draco rushed over to him from the table, holding a Prophet. "Harry, please tell me you've read the paper."

"What━no, I just got done with work and came straight home. What's wrong?" Draco looked a right mess, which was highly unusual. His hair was normally in a neat arrangement, brushing across his forehead in a precise way. Now it was almost as messy as Harry's.

"Just… read the paper," Draco said roughly. Harry pulled his out from his back pocket and gave Draco a look of concern. "We've been getting owls all day, Harry. Everyone's either upset, confused, down right furious, or all three. I don't know what to do."

"It's okay, Draco," he said in what he hoped was a calming way. "Kreacher!" Kreacher cracked into the room. "Tea, please. Something that'll relax Draco."

"Kreacher will make Masters tea," Keacher said as he began fussing about the kitchen.

"Harry please read the paper," Draco said, sounding more stressed out than he'd been since coming to live with him. Harry nodded and unfolded the paper. His jaw dropped open when he saw the cover photo, which was himself and Draco snogging in the clothing store.

"What the hell━"

"Just fucking read it!"

A very strange romance seems to be taking place between the Boy Saviour, and the Boy Who Kills.

"The Boy Who Kills?" Harry burst. "This has got to be a fucking joke!"

"Keep. Reading," Draco said, his tone devoid of any emotion. Harry didn't want to keep reading; he already knew this was going to have him fuming by the end of it, but looking into Draco's eyes, which held all the emotion his voice lacked, he knew that he must.

An intriguing scene, to say the very least, was found in the late hours of yesterday, where our very own Harry Potter and known Death Eater Draco Malfoy were found in a muggle clothing store, passionately groping each other in full view of shoppers. This is not the entirety of Harry Potter's peculiar behaviour, however. After being confronted by a muggle shopper, Potter became hostile, threatening the man and attempting to use his status as a heroic, battle-scarred icon to intimidate him.

Potter and Malfoy were seen exiting what can only be assumed to be Potter's home not long before the incident, and reports say that this is not the first time the two have been seen exiting the same location, suggesting that Malfoy may be living with Potter at this time.

These new developments come as a real shock to the wizarding community, despite Potter's support of Malfoy during the hearing in August regarding the dark wizard's involvement in the Second Wizarding War. Some are even coming to question whether Potter might be under some sort of influence by Malfoy, suggestions ranging from a love potion to the Imperius curse. Why else might the man who saved the world as we know it choose to seek a romance with Malfoy, a man hated by many in the community and known to be violent and possibly dangerous? There seems to be little to no evidence to make Potter's decisions any clearer, either (other than the aforementioned testimony on Potter's part during the Malfoy trials).

Harry skimmed the rest of the article, which delved into his school rivalry with Draco and had to stop reading. It was too much and his exhaustion from the day was making it incredibly difficult for him to control his urge to flip the heavy kitchen table over in his pique and resentment.

"I didn't━Uncle Vernon was the one who━" He took a deep breath. "I'll bet Skeeter had everything to do with this," Harry said, louder than he had planned. He searched the bottom of the page, finding her name easily. Of course it had been her. Who else would have the nerve to write such a poor excuse for an article?

"This is bad, Harry. Really bad."

"Why━the fucking Imperius curse━you'd never!" He was so angry that he couldn't fully produce proper sentences, but he thought back to the joke Malfoy had told the night before and it was suddenly not funny at all. Kreacher set two cups of hot tea on the table, but Harry wasn't in the mood anymore and both he and Draco ignored the steaming mugs.

"That's not even the worst of it," Draco said, putting his face in his hands.

"Really? How could it get worse than this?" Harry had a very difficult time believing it could, but had to admit he wasn't trying very hard once Draco answered his question in the next moment.

"My mum knows." The absolute misery in Draco's voice was nearly palpable.

"Was she one of the people who sent a letter?" Harry wasn't sure how bad Narcissa would take the news of her son being gay, but Draco's father had apparently told Draco not to tell her, so there was no way it would be a positive response.

"She was the first. I've been completely cut off financially, and she's… she's disowned me." That was certainly much worse than a bad report. "She told me that no son of hers, no Malfoy, would ever be homosexual, and that if it was the case, I was no longer part of the family. I've even received official letters from the Ministry and Gringotts informing me that I've been disinherited."

"Oh, Draco." Harry rushed to him and hugged him tightly. Draco had begun tearing up, and Harry knew that he was seriously hurt by his mother's words, if his emotions were showing that clearly. He'd only ever seen Draco cry once, and that was when Harry had found him in one of the school bathrooms shortly after he'd taken the Dark Mark. "It's okay," was the only thing Harry could think to say at a time like that. He'd never really been good at comforting upset people.

"No, it's really not. How am I supposed to pay you rent if I've been cut off from the Malfoy vaults? How am I going to live with no money? Nobody's going to give me a job; they all hate me! They think I'm some evil piece of shite, and they're not wrong. I can't burden you anymore, Harry. I'm making your life terrible."

"Shut your mouth," Harry demanded. He backed away from Draco, but held him firmly just below his shoulders, though not hard enough to hurt him or leave a mark. It was just enough to stop the pity-party being thrown and get those stormy grey eyes focused on him. Draco's lower lip was trembling with pent up emotion and as much as Harry wanted to kiss away that shaking, he had things he needed to tell Draco. It could wait. "You are not evil━at least, you're not anymore, and if it helps, I don't think you ever were━you are not shite, and being gay does not make you either of those things. You already said you hated the Malfoy name, and if that's the sort of stuff it represents, I think you're better off without it." Draco started to speak, but Harry continued on. "You haven't made my life worse. You've made it better, actually, and I don't give a fuck about rent. If you need a place to stay you have one. It was your pride that decided you'd be paying rent in the first place."

"Harry, I couldn't ask that of you━"

"You're not asking. I'm telling. You can stay here as long as you want. Don't worry about anything else; not the reports, not your mother, not the finances, not anything. And if anyone gives you trouble, let me know. As an Auror it's my job to protect wizard citizens, you first and foremost." Harry could tell Draco was about to say something when the Floo activated and Molly stepped into the kitchen.

"Harry, I'm so glad you're here," she said, sounding slightly out of breath. Harry's hands dropped from Draco's shoulders in his surprise. "Draco, it's good to see you, too." She sounded less genuine and her smile was more than a little strained at the edges. Harry knew what she was here for; if she'd already read the paper, which she tended to do every morning, then she'd want to know what was going on.

"Draco," Harry said, looking down at him. He looked as though he'd shrunk into himself sitting in the chair and Harry didn't want to ask him, but he had to. "Could I have a moment alone with Molly? I'll try to keep it short and we can discuss this more later. I'll have Kreacher start dinner." Draco nodded solemnly and got up to leave the kitchen. As soon as the creaking of the stairs signified that he was at least on the first floor, Molly began speaking rapidly.

"What is going on? I read the paper this morning, and it said some rather alarming things. I saw the picture… is it true? Are you and Draco… together?" Harry stifled a sigh, reigned in his anger as it would be unproductive to direct it at Molly anyhow, and sat down where Draco had been a moment before. Several deep breaths later he felt he'd collected his thoughts well enough to speak in an even, calm-ish tone.

"It's half true. We're not in an official relationship, but last night was sort of a date. What's absolutely not true is that I'm under Imperius or a love potion and that Draco has some nefarious plans about this whole thing." Molly looked somewhat relieved, but not completely.

"How can you be sure of that, Harry? I mean, how can you know?"

"I know because I've lived with him for over a month, I've known him since I was eleven years old, and he's completely different than everyone thinks. He's not evil, he's not pretending." Harry was half tempted to tell her that Narcissa had disowned him and he still hadn't said he was leaving. While it said a lot to Harry about how Draco really felt about him, it wasn't his information to divulge.

"Harry, a month is a very short period of time. You can't possibly know that his intentions are pure. As much as I'd like to think he's different now, I…" Molly paused and seemed to be considering her next words carefully. "I just want you to be safe."

"I realise that, Molly. I'm thankful that you care about me enough to be worried, but I think I can handle this on my own." He was sick of this already, and if the letters that he'd received while he was at work were anything similar to Molly's conversation he was less than interested in looking at them. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

"No━"

"Then have a nice evening." Molly looked hurt by his pressuring her to leave, but didn't linger any longer. When the green flames had died, Harry turned to head up the stairs in search of Draco, but was halted when the hearth roared back to life behind him. Expecting Molly to come back to have a last word, he ground his teeth together, turned around and was completely taken aback when Hermione stepped through the green flames and into the kitchen.

"Harry!"

"Hermione?" Harry sputtered as she flung herself on him. If he was expecting any sort of gesture from her, it wasn't a hug. "What are you━aren't you in school? How are you here?"

"Well, I'm technically supposed to be, but I'm finished with all my classes for the evening, and studying for my N.E.W.T.s and I had to come see you. How dare that awful Skeeter cow! I read the whole article Harry, and I can't believe it, she said the nastiest things—"

"Hermione, she wasn't completely lying." In order to keep Hermione's hostility to a minimum, and cushion the blow of what he was about to tell her, Harry felt it necessary to nip her rant in the bud. It wouldn't do to let her go off about the situation when he would have to tell her that the article was closer to truth in some aspects than others.

"What do you mean, she's not lying? Of course she is! I don't know how she managed to get a picture of you snogging Malfoy, but there's no way that's true. Not all of it, at least."

"Well, she got her basic facts straight," Harry admitted with a sigh. "I am bisexual and I am dating Draco. Just dating, though. We're not… boyfriends." Hermione seemed taken aback for a moment, but then snapped back into her tirade.

"She still made it out to be really awful. Threatening a muggle? I wouldn't have put it past her to have made the whole story up, but I'm sure that at least some of it is grossly exaggerated."

"No, she got that right, too."

"What?"

"The muggle was my uncle."

"Oh." She seemed at a loss for words. Her mouth was agape as she stood staring with wide hazel eyes. When she finally found her voice again all of the fire had been taken out of her. "So… It's all true, then?"

"Well, n-not exactly." Harry wasn't sure if he should tell Hermione that Draco had changed. He was prepared to defend Draco again if need be, but he didn't look forward to it; even if Hermione believed him, he was sick of having to explain himself already this evening. With working overtime, coming home to this cluster-fuck, and having his companion going without his comfort upstairs, Harry was ready to be done with justification and admissions in general. There was no avoiding explaining the situation, however. If he didn't tell her voluntarily she would force the information out of him. "She made Draco out to be some sort of horrible dark wizard out to get me, Hermione, but he's really not. He's a lot different and nobody seems to want to accept that I might be right about that."

The note of plea in his voice was painfully obvious, and he wished it wasn't there at all. He had no idea what Hermione might think of him for it, but was surprised when her response was merely a quiet, "I hate her."

"Wait, so you don't think I'm lying? Or under Imperius?" Harry couldn't believe that she wasn't picking apart his argument on Draco's behalf.

"No. That is… I don't know what to think of Draco. I mean, he's always been a mean and bigoted prat, and made our years at Hogwarts incredibly difficult, and fought on the wrong side of the war, and was a Death Eater, and called me mudblood a lot, and tried to kill Dumbledore, and━"

"Okay, Hermione, I get it." He knew all of these things, was trying to see past them to who Draco really was, and being reminded of them was nothing but irritating.

"Sorry," she said with a slight blush. "I also trust you, Harry. Draco might have been a bully in school, but you and I both know that he was forced to do a lot of the things he did, and that the reporters play on the bad aspects of everyone. Especially Rita Skeeter. God, I loathe that woman." While Hermione had spoken softly through most of her statements, the last one was full of abhorrence and malice, a tone of voice that could still strike fear into Harry's heart, even when it wasn't directed towards him.

"I know you do. I'm not exactly fond of her myself." Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head with disdain.

"Is he… is he living with you?" Hermione looked to the stairway, as though she expected him to walk in at any moment.

"He is. He's upstairs right now, probably distraught because━" He'd been about to tell Hermione about Narcissa disowning Draco, but stopped himself. "It's all been a bit hard on him, too." His poor finish came a bit too late, though, and Hermione jumped on his bait instantly.

"Because of the article? Or did something else happen?" Harry didn't like how easily Hermione could read him. If he hadn't known for a fact that she'd never studied Legilimency he would wonder if she used it on him frequently. More likely than that, though, was the probability that he was simply too obvious when trying to hide things. He'd never managed to fool Aunt Petunia for long and she had about a quarter of Hermione's intelligence.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone… It's not exactly my information to share. It's sort of personal, you know?" He shuffled his feet a bit as he avoided answering her.

"Harry, I'm not going to tell anyone. What's going on?"

"I really can't—"

"My mother disowned me," Draco interrupted from behind them. Harry jumped and Hermione whipped around. Draco's eyes were puffy and lined with red, and his hair was still disheveled. Harry could tell he'd been crying and moved to comfort him, but Draco held up a hand. "No, I'm alright. I expected this to happen eventually. Well, perhaps not this exactly, but something similar to it." Hermione looked back and forth between the two wizards, her expression an odd mingle of sympathy, surprise, and worry.

"How could she do that?" Hermione asked, having regained her composure once more.

"Easily; by removing my name from our Gringotts account information, writing me out of the will, and, once she gets the manor back, changing the wards so that I'm unable to gain entry." His tone held a fierce sort of bitterness to it. "As she phrased it, being a homosexual is worse than if I'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban. She said the titles 'Malfoy' and 'gay' can't coexist."

"I— that's— that's really awful." Hermione's face had softened, but she had flinched at the bite in Draco's words, which seemed to scare her a bit. She chewed her lip, apparently at a loss for words.

"It doesn't matter. I've had enough of skirting around the issue. She was bound to find out eventually. Harry's worth more to me than stupid gold, anyway."

"But your mother—" Hermione started, but Draco cut her off before she could complete the thought.

"She can sod off, too. Nothing I've done has ever been good enough for her." There was a thickness behind Draco's words that, upon hearing it, caused Harry's heart to clench in response. Draco may have been attempting to show that he didn't care about what was happening, but it was clear as day to Harry that he was still just as distressed as he'd been earlier.

"Oh, Draco, I'm sure that's not completely true." The conviction was missing from Hermione's tone when she said this. "I'm sure that your mother loves you in her own way."

"I honestly can't recall the last time she said so," he tossed back. "And really, it's none of your business anyway. The only reason I told you is because I'm sure Harry was about to." He must've realised that he was starting to lash out at the wrong person and took a deep breath. Harry couldn't stop himself at this point and strode over to Draco, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly.

"I know your mother loves you. The only reason she told Voldemort I was dead was because she needed to know if you were alive. That's got to mean something. She risked her life in the hopes that you were okay." Draco didn't continue to argue, but sunk onto one of the kitchen stools, leaning against his crossed arms. Hermione looked like she wanted to say more, but instead walked over to Harry and Draco.

"Well, I should probably be getting back. They'll start worrying about me if I don't show up soon." She gave Harry a swift goodbye embrace and turned to face Draco, who was facing with his back toward her. "I'm really sorry about your mother, Draco." She placed her hand on his shoulder briefly, gave Harry a sad sort of smile, then turned away to the fireplace. With a short cry of 'Hogwarts!' and a burst of bright green flames, Draco and Harry were left to their solitude again.

As soon as Granger was whooshed away, Draco slumped. The effort of trying to feign lethargy about what his mother thought, said, and had done had been incredibly devitalising, but he wasn't about to break down in front of Granger. It had already put him out of his comfort zone to admit all of what he just had to her. Besides, she looked as if she might have exploded from pity if he had acted any more vulnerable. He'd meant it when he'd said that the only reason he'd told her was because Harry was bound to. That was the sort of information he would prefer not be spread around behind his back, no matter how good Harry's intentions were, or how much he thought he could trust Granger.

She had stood up for him, though. After everything he had said and done to her, Granger had actually stood up for him. His slight joy was quickly extinguished by guilt, however, as he recalled exactly how many times he'd called her Mudblood, and all of her responses to the instances. At the same time, though, he noticed that he hadn't referred to her as such mentally in a long time, but even her punch to the face hadn't really made his past behaviour any more excusable. Everything she had said against him had been the truth, and the thought that she could forgive him so easily was bewildering. He probably owed her a real apology, and as soon as he felt capable of writing a letter he meant to send her one. There was no way he would be able to apologise in person, and he was sure that if he did he wouldn't get out half of what he wanted to say. All of the years of hearing his parents' supremacist convictions clashed against his own efforts to be a better person than them. Time and again his upbringing would win and he would end up saying something that he didn't mean, not really. He was tired of being the person that his parents raised him to be. He had seen where that path led and it left him with mental scars and a self-hatred he couldn't seem to shake, no matter what he did to try and repair the damage done to others by his actions.

He might have stopped crying, but he hadn't been able to keep his resentment toward his parents at bay. Every time he thought of them, and Granger's pity, it rose again, burning the inside of his throat and making his eyes sting. Without him meaning it to, a small sob bubbled from his lips. His shoulders tightened with the threatened sobs to come and he did everything he could to keep them from showing.

"Draco…" Harry sat on the stool next to him, scooting it closer so he could wrap an arm around the broken man Draco was being. His head rested against Draco's shoulder. The weight of it was comforting and his hair was softly brushing Draco's cheek. Harry smelled of a oakmoss and sandalwood, and Draco wondered how those scents had escaped his notice before now; it was aromatherapeutic to an extent. Harry brought him out of his minor distraction when he said, "We're going to figure this out."

Draco wanted to say that there was nothing to figure out, that things were this way and that was that. He wanted to say that even if there were things to be figured out, it wasn't up to Harry to do it for him, that it wasn't his bloody job to fix everything all the time. He wanted to say that Harry didn't know quite how bad things were, as he hadn't yet read the letters he'd received that day. Draco wanted to say many things, but his voice had stopped working and all he could do was produce his mother's letter to Harry from his pocket and hand it over.

"Is this━this is from your mum?" Draco nodded and Harry clutched it warily. Harry just stared at the folded, regal looking parchment, and Draco noticed that he had the faintest tremor. Finally he opened it, and Draco closed his eyes, not wishing to read his mother's words again; they'd already been engraved into his memory.

Potter,

It has come to my attention that you and Draco have taken it upon yourselves to ruin the Malfoy name further than it has already been. I show you mercy for the sake of protecting my only child, and your repayment is repulsive displays of affection? In a muggle mart, no less. It was evident that Draco had queer tendencies from the time he was a young boy, and your presence in his life has never helped the matter, but I had hoped against hope that it was a passing phase.

You owe me a life debt. I kept silent when you needed me to most. Don't think that I've forgotten. My terms are simple: you will stop seeing Draco. You will not allow him sanctuary in your home. You will break all contact with him. If you think that today's front page article was bad, the fabric of your existence will be shaken to its core if you do not heed my instructions. Suffice it to say that, though the Malfoy name is soiled, I still have a great many connections.

Draco is not welcome in our society, and if this game the two of you are playing continues, he may never find his place in it again. If he does fall completely from grace, I will see to it that you go down with him. This will be your only warning.

-N.M

"This is blackmail," Harry gritted. "This is blackmail, it is illegal, and she won't get away with it." He slammed his fist into the table, causing Draco to flinch away from him. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad I accepted that Auror position."

"Harry… what are you saying?" Draco sounded apprehensive and fearful, but Harry wasn't concerned with that. He'd been threatened, and after all the fighting he'd done, all the threats to his life that he'd only narrowly escaped each time, he was finished putting up with it.

"I'm taking this to Shacklebolt first thing in the morning."

"No, Harry, don't! She's not going to do anything━she's bluffing. Please don't take it to the Minister, or she'll be thrown in Azkaban." Draco's pleading did nothing to soothe the storm that had erupted in Harry's veins.

"And she deserves as much! She disowns her only child, threatens to make our lives a living hell, and just gets away with it? I don't fucking think so! I'm done sitting back while other people try to run my life!" Draco stared with fear at Harry, and he made the conscious effort to calm down, taking several deep breaths. This only lowered his anger by a fraction, much to his chagrin. His blood was still racing, his heart pounding, his palms sweating. He took a sip of the now lukewarm tea that Kreacher had set out so long ago, but it helped very little.

"If you take this letter to the Minister my mother will be thrown in Azkaban." Draco repeated measuredly, slowly, as if he were explaining String Theory to a toddler. "It doesn't matter how long she is in prison, when she gets out she will seek revenge, and it will be worse than anything she could conjure up now."

Harry hadn't even considered that, which wasn't a surprise. He wasn't thinking of consequences for his actions, but for Narcissa's. In his fury he hadn't been thinking of the long term effects of bringing Narcissa to justice for her petty threats. Harry's hand flew to his hair and brushed through it roughly, snagging on knots that had formed throughout the day.

"All I'm asking is that you please think before you do anything out of anger," Draco continued, still speaking softly. As mellow as his voice sounded, Harry could see the fear in Draco's silver gaze.

"Was this part of the plan all along?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself from lashing out at Draco. "Is this what you wanted?

"I have no idea what you mean." Draco opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Harry had just the vaguest sense that if he continued accusing Draco of having malicious intent, he very well could ruin everything they'd built together, which wasn't much, but was worth a lot to the both of them.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean anything." He was so filled with emotion that he couldn't think straight, but he knew that if he didn't backtrack now he would regret it. "This has nothing to do with you, or me really. It's your mother and her stupid archaic views."

"Were you just trying to say that I'd planned this entire situation?" Draco was apparently ignoring Harry's ill remark about his mother, having finally caught up. Harry felt his gut tightening in fear. "You really think━" He interrupted himself to laugh dryly. "Yeah, because I've always wanted to have no money, no mother, no place to call my own, the societal sword over my head. It's great, Harry, absolutely spectacular. And all so that I could get my revenge on the man I've secretly liked since I was eleven years old." Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to respond to the biting sarcasm that tainted Draco's words and for whatever reason his mind was stuck on his last comment. Guilt ravaged him, and if he felt bad for saying it before, he felt a thousand times worse now. "You know, I actually thought… I thought you'd started to trust me. I had hoped that maybe, out of everyone in this stupid fucking world, I could at least depend on you." Before Harry had a chance to formulate a response, Draco had rushed from the room and up the stairs.

Draco stared heatedly at the hole he'd made in the drywall of his bedroom. It would've been simple to magic the wall fixed, but he wanted the evidence of Harry's betrayal to stay and remind him not to trust so easily. Harry hadn't attempted to follow him, which was for the better because he wasn't interested in talking to him anyway. He needed time to think, to collect himself. After all that had happened that day he knew it was time to be alone. Draco slumped down onto his bed and covered his face with his hand.

Would this be the end of his and Harry's 'relationship,' or whatever it was? If Harry thought so poorly of him, thought that Draco would risk everything he'd wished for since he was a child on trifles such as these, he wasn't sure he could bear it. All of the gold in his family's Gringotts vaults meant nothing in comparison to the dream he'd been living ever since Harry had allowed him to stay here. His mother's acceptance was important━more so than he cared to admit to himself━but even with the prospect of losing her he had stayed, for Harry, for what they'd begun together. Maybe he was just being childish, thinking that he and Harry had a chance of working out to begin with. That seemed to be the case. He could think of little else besides the accusing look on Harry's face, the anger in his tone, the blaze of Floo-like fire in his eyes as he'd asked Draco if this had all been staged.

"Fuck Potter," he grumbled, instinctually reverting to using Harry's surname in his sorrow fueled rage. "Fuck mother, fuck wizard society, fuck Skeeter!" As irate as he was he'd thought his tears had run their course, but his shoulders began to shake with the heaving sobs that escaped him. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to and he thought that maybe it never would.

A/N:

Thank you all for the reviews, faves, and follows! Sorry it's taken us so long to edit and publish this chapter, but life has been very busy for the two of us lately. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the wait.

Isaynope, MionePadfootLover, Alexandriad14, KlaineDrarry21, and Guest, thank you for your reviews! They help feed the Muse :)