Harry felt as if a thousand thoughts were zooming around his head, but every time he reached out to grab one, they started zooming around faster. He knew that something had happened back in the locker room, but he didn't know exactly what, and that frightened him.

As soon as he saw Draco's Dark Mark he lost control over his actions. Although the mark was a symbol for all things evil and dark, it didn't frighten Harry. The mark didn't pin point specific memories, but reminded his of the war itself, as if he was looking at the concept through glass, as if it didn't apply to him. Whatever it was, it had brought him awkwardly close to Draco, but even as he let his marked arm fall from his grasp, he still could not will his feet to move. It wasn't so much of a wanting to be in close proximity with Draco, but more of a wanting not to move away. It was the first time that he and Draco were sharing something other than stories from their miserable past. They were sharing space; they were sharing breath. Although it wasn't much, Harry couldn't help but know that it wasn't normal for people to do that. It wasn't normal to feel like your stomach had twisted itself into a tight knot because of someone else's presence.

As Harry reached the doors to the castle, he shoved those thoughts firmly away. He knew that what happened had been a coincidence, which it was nothing to worry over. The thought of talking to Draco himself about it quickly crossed his mind, but he exiled the thought expediently as it had entered. What had just happened was weird, but it was no reason not to treat Draco as he normally did.

When he got back to his room, an owl was violently tapping on his window with its beak. It had a letter tied to its foot. Not wanting the glass to shatter, Harry quickly opened the window and took the letter off of its leg. The owl flew away just as he had started to open it.

Hey Harry,

Neville, George, Seamus, Lee, Dean, and I were all going to go to The Three Broomsticks for a drink later tonight. It will be a good pick-me-up to get some of the old gang back together again. We haven't seen you in a while mate. You don't need to respond to my owl, if you want to come, just meet us at the pub at 20:00 tonight.

Hope to see you there,

Ron

Even though Ron was still his best friend, it seemed weird to be receiving letters from him. He hadn't seen his best mate in a couple of months since Harry stayed to help rebuild the castle and Ron didn't. It also felt strange to be invited out of the castle mid school year. As a student, the only time he was allowed outside of school boundaries was on specific weekends where the school allowed him to go to Hogsmeade. But he was a teacher now; he could go wherever he pleased without the jurisdiction of others. Besides, it wasn't as if Harry wasn't in need of a distraction.

The rest of the day passed by very lazily. He spent most of his day dozing off; he forgot how tired he was. He started to grade the ever-accumulating pile of his students' homework, but that tired him even quicker than doing nothing did.

At 19:15, the weather was still relatively warm; the occasional breeze was the only thing that chilled the air. Having nothing better to do, Harry decided to walk to Hogsmeade as opposed to traveling by broomstick or apparition.

Red, brown, yellow, and orange leaves covered the grassy slopes that led away from the school. To his left, the last bit of lingering sun turned the glassy water of the Black Lake translucent. The Whomping Willow gave a threatening wave as Harry walked by it, but other than that, his walk was quite peaceful.

As it turned out, Harry was the first of his friends to arrive. The pub was unsurprisingly packed for a Saturday night. Towards the front, about a dozen goblins were drinking quietly with their heads close together; they seemed to be warped in an enticing conversation. Directly at the bar sat four wizards were talking way too loudly for anyone to think they were sober.

Harry moved towards the back of the pub where there were more empty tables. Just as he ordered his first butter beer, Ron, George, Lee, Seamus, and Dean all walked in. Seamus and Dean seemed to be in the middle of an argument; both boys were gesturing wildly. Dean almost hit one of the goblins in his long, pointy nose. Ron was the first one to spot Harry. He and the rest of their friends quickly made their way over to the table Harry was at.

"How goes it, Harry?" Ron gave Harry a firm but friendly pat on the shoulder.
"You've already started without us?" Said Ron, gesturing to Harry's just arrived butter beer. Harry's answer was interrupted by the sound of chair scraping the floor. Everyone had taken a seat.

"Harry it has been so long since we've seen you last," Neville said factually. "Yeah that's right; you stayed and helped clean up the castle after the battle didn't you?" Lee asked. Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he saw George give a slight wince at the sound of the battle, but he quickly covered it up by pulling his sweater closer to his shoulders. George must still be grieving his brother. Harry mentally slapped himself. Of course he was still grieving Fred, the two had been nearly stuck together since birth. It was almost strange seeing George without Fred sitting right next to him, laughing wildly at whatever was being said. Harry seemed to be the only one to notice George wince. Had it been because the others have gotten used to seeing him like that, or because Harry had just gotten good at identifying when people were hurting? Harry noticed that Draco was off kilt even before they became acquaintances. When did he start to become so aware of other people? Harry took a long drink from his bottle.

"Harry get a load of this, Looney- erm, I mean, Luna and Neville are a dating." Ron half said, half laughed. Neville face flushed, but not before retorting, "Oh yeah? You're one to talk, cause you can't stop sucking face with Granger for more than five seconds!" Everyone but Ron burst into laughter, but Harry nearly doubled over in shock; he didn't think he had ever heard Neville defend himself before.

A round of butter beers and fire whisky got served to the table. Harry reached for the fire whisky idly and took a long sip.

"Woah, slow down there Potter, I don't want to have to carry you home." Dean piped in.

"Hey Harry, I actually have no clue what you have been up to. Not to be rude but, what are you doing now?" Seamus questioned. "I am teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts." Harry was met with faces of awe. "At least they finally have a well qualified teacher," George chuckled darkly, speaking for the first time that night.

If anyone else noticed George's dark tone, no one let on. "Yeah! I bet your one bloody Hell of a good teacher, Harry. You were a great teacher in Dumbledore's Army." Neville contributed. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

As the night moved on, glasses were refilled more quickly, and his friends banter got progressively louder. Harry was surprised they hadn't been kicked out of the bar yet, or worse, poisoned. He could have sworn he saw a couple of the goblins staring at Lee nastily.

"Hey Harry," Ron half shouted, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Is it true that Malfoy is the new potions teacher? I heard the little git weaseled his way out of almost every punishment the Ministry threw at him."

Harry tried to hide the anger that attempted to flush his face. After all, he new Draco better than all of them at this point, and he knew that Draco was punished by the affects of the war more than any of them knew. With a controlled breath Harry started, "Yeah. Draco-" "Draco?" Ron intervened. "Since when have you started calling him Draco? It makes it seem like you are all close and cuddly." Ron finished.

"We are not, 'close and cuddly,' Ron. Don't be a prick." Harry said a little too quickly and defensively. George raised his eyebrows in question, but didn't say anything. "Even though we aren't best mates, him and I have had an, erm, understanding." Harry spoke as if he were treading on broken glass. Even though nothing had happened between him and Draco, he still felt extremely uncomfortable acting as if he knew Draco, which he did, around people who still hated his guts.

"Rubbish. If you asked me, I would still say he is a slimy piece of garbage. He should be in Azkaban for everything he has pulled," Dean cut in.

The anger Harry was trying so badly to suppress now showed blazingly on his face. "His isn't slimy, Ron. He has gone through some major shit, just as the rest of us have." "Oh and you would know?" Ron said, his voice rising dramatically. "Yes, in fact I would know. He-" Harry cut himself off. He couldn't finish that sentence without revealing what had been said to him in private. "He what, Harry? He talked to you? I don't understand why you are defending him!" Ron shouted exasperatingly. Come to think of it, Harry didn't know either. He didn't owe anything to Draco, so why was he defending him? Why was he choosing his coworker over his best friend?

Before he said or did anything stupid, Harry stood up abruptly. "I am leaving. See you around, everyone." Harry stormed out of the bar.

The air had gotten significantly cold since the last time he was outside. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His hands were balled into fists. What are you doing? Harry thought angrily to himself. He just defended a dirty, disgusting, slimly scumbag-

Harry interrupted his own thoughts. He was angry, angry with himself for defending someone he didn't know nearly as well as his best friend, but he was not angry with Draco himself. It had been Harry's choice to protect Draco, not anyone else's. But why did he get so angry? Why was his first instinct to protect Draco?

It was a long time before Harry got back to his room; he must have drunk more than he thought. Although his body was telling him he was tired, he knew that there was no way he could fall asleep. He felt angry and confused and frustrated, frustrated by the fact that he didn't seem to have been in control of his body or his mouth today.

Instead of collapsing onto his bed, Harry trudged into his bathroom. The hand that reached for the candle on the wall dropped to his side. Instead, he blew it out; the flickering flame threw moving shadows across the walls that were giving him headaches. He pulled the lever in his shower that stopped the drain. Once he turned on the water, the bathtub started to fill up immediately. By the time it was full, the mirror on his wall had fogged up completely.

He sat in silence. He wrapped his arms around his legs and placed his forehead on his knees. The steam rising up from the scalding water soothed his throbbing head. The only sound that could be heard was the last of the water dripping off of the bath faucet. With every drop, Harry imagined himself melting. Like the steaming water, he imagined his anger and confusion from the bar evaporate, as if it was floating out of his head and into the air.

Most people found darkness as frightening, but Harry treated it as an old friend. In the dark, no camera could see him; no expectations could follow him. In the dark he was truly alone. He concentrated on the sound of nothing. He concentrated on the sight of utter blackness. His erratic heartbeat became even, and his breaths slowed.

Very slowly, Harry picked himself up and out of the water. He listened to the sound of the water rolling down his back and dripping out of his hair. And when he was ready, he stepped out of the tub, dried himself off, clothed himself, and went to bed. His mind drifted to how quickly his anger had ignited earlier. Looking at it now, it seemed like such a silly thing.

Ron did not know Draco's story. Neither did Neville, Seamus, Dean, Lee, or George. That was a secret only he knew, a secret he had been trusted with. Harry finally thought he knew why he had defended Draco. Because he was his friend. Not an acquaintance; a friend. A friend is someone who challenges you to push boundaries, pushes you to strive. The only one who knew about Harry's nightmares besides McGonagall, was Draco. Although he hadn't shared them with the intent to vent or find a shoulder to cry on like they did in mushy movies, Draco's honesty had challenged him be honest with himself. He made Harry spit out something that had been swallowing him whole for months.

Harry knew that he and Draco were nothing alike. Their friendship wasn't conventional; he knew Draco would never stop being arrogant and proud, but Harry didn't expect him to. But that Thursday night Draco challenged Harry to be truthful to himself, something that even Ron and Hermonie had never been able to make him do. It didn't change the fact that Harry would never see Draco as a kind person, or someone who he would hang out with, but it did make Harry respect Draco in a way that made their friendship irrefutable. With one final deep breath, Harry let sleep overtake him like a wave pulling him into the sea.

Hey everyone! I don't want to be pushy, but this is my first long story, and I would love some feedback. I am having a really great time writing this fic, and it would really make my day if I knew you guys were enjoying reading it just as much. Thank you!