Harry couldn't sleep. After weeks of deep and uninterrupted nightly rest, tonight he couldn't manage to get his mind to slow down long enough to drift off. The mattress felt hard below him and his pillow seemed to have all but deflated.

Lately his days had fallen into a steady pattern that he'd come to enjoy. Each morning he woke alone in a room that didn't belong to him. Rather than taking a moment to steel himself against a crushing sense of purposelessness, as he'd become accustomed to doing each morning over the summer, he woke feeling fine. Just fine, which was a marked improvement. Next, he dressed quickly and departed in silence for the Great Hall to eat with Ginny and the others. He'd stopped feeling guilty about betraying her trust long ago, and as far as he could tell she merely suspected him of being distracted and somewhat selfish, rather than a remorseless cheater. He rarely thought about it anymore.

He never spoke a word to Malfoy during the day, and he in turn completely ignored Harry throughout every class and meal. After dinner they continued to practice long into the evening, every evening, perfecting Malfoy's magic skills without the aid of a wand. Harry had even begun learning wandless defense himself, but it was proving far more difficult in his case. Whatever kind of mental shield Draco was able to draw upon, Harry simply couldn't seem to match it. He had been stupefied at least a dozen times alone, not taking into account every other hex, jinx and charm that had broken through the weak barriers he managed to conjure. And each night, without exception, they wound up together in what had usually been a very comfortable bed. Harry had come to rely on the feeling of another body next to his as he slept each night, and he'd learned to enjoy the smell of Malfoy on his clothes. When their eyes met in the Great Hall, Harry felt as if he was in on a tremendous secret, and even when they argued bitterly – which was still very frequent – Harry was happier than he'd been in months.

But today had been different. He had been called into McGonagall's office after breakfast, alone. He'd been preoccupied with worry that she'd somehow found out about what had been going on in the office space each night, and whether she'd be angrier about Malfoy's extracurricular activities or, well, the other extracurricular activities. If she'd found out about one, then she'd likely found out about the other and there was no way either would please her. He'd been certain that he was about to be moved again, and was so distracted by concern that he'd barely noticed the cup of tea she'd given him until it was burning his hand.

"Harry, are you aware of the date of Draco's trial?" she'd asked.

"No," he told her. He realized then that he'd never thought to ask.

She nodded slowly, taking a sip from her own cup. "Three days from now, on Monday. In the mean time, if you'll be needing to speak to anyone about what kind of questions you'll be facing, let me know by the end of the day. I'll send an owl, if you need."

Harry had told her that he was sure he'd be fine and stepped back into his usual schedule. He hadn't given it another thought until now, lying with his arm numb and trapped beneath the sleeping body next to him. In the stillness of the night, his worries were inescapable.

"Hey," he whispered, slowly freeing himself. There was a slight stirring and the blanket was dragged entirely to the other side of the bed.

"Hey," he repeated. "Are you asleep?"

"Shush," Malfoy muttered.

Sitting up, Harry could see through the window that it was snowing outside. "Your trial is on Monday."

"Yep."

"You didn't tell me."

Malfoy groaned. "I thought you knew. Shut up and go to sleep."

"I have to testify, what am I supposed to say?"

There was another groan. "I haven't been worried about it."

"Well, I'm worried about it." Harry yanked the covers back onto his legs, and in the pale light he watched Malfoy roll over to frown up at him.

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm being realistic."

Malfoy pulled the blanket up over his face. "Just tell the truth!" he whined through the fabric.

Harry yanked it away and scowled down at him. "If I tell the truth, they'll twist things around and find a way lock you up for the rest of your life."

"Then lie."

"I can't lie!"

"Why are we even having this fucking conversation, then?" Malfoy snapped. "Listen to me, because I'm only going to talk to you about this once. What we have going on is weird – great, but weird. We're not in love, here. We're not a couple. And I don't think either of us expects this to continue after we move out of these rooms. So, you don't owe me anything. If you testify against me, I'm not going to feel betrayed or heartbroken. I'll be angry with you, but I'm going to be angry with everyone who testifies against me. If you feel like you need to send me to Azkaban, you're welcome to try."

Harry shook his head, trying to ignore the sting of what he was hearing. "You're just being a shit because I woke you up."

"I'm being honest, which is rare, so you should be paying attention. If you testify against me, I won't be surprised. Really, I've been expecting it. And if I'm found innocent anyway, nothing will change. I still have to stay in these rooms until my father's trial, and so do you." Pulling himself up onto his elbows, his frown faltered slightly and he continued in softer tones. "If it makes things easier for you to start sleeping in your own bed, I get it… You're a blanket hog anyway."

Harry searched the ghostly face in front of him for any sign of insincerity. "You have to admit, this all complicates things."

"Only if you let it."

Harry lowered his head to the flat pillow and turned over to face the edge of the bed. He knew that if he pressed the subject he'd wind up arguing like a snubbed lover, and that was too embarrassing to imagine. More than that, he didn't have the energy for a dramatic retreat to the other room in the middle of the night. He didn't believe that the past few weeks had been just 'weird', and he doubted that Malfoy meant what he'd said. He hoped so, at least. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for sleep to take him.

In the haze of half-consciousness he felt a cool arm snake around his waist and soft breath against the back of his ear.

This was very complicated.

… … …

Like usual, Harry woke alone. He threw his clothes on and headed down to the common area, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to get through this weekend as quickly as possible, and getting down to breakfast right away decreased the amount of time he'd have to be alone with Malfoy. Less time together meant less time wasted pretending he wasn't pitifully wounded by last night's offhand dismissal of their weeks together. He knew they weren't a couple. He knew that. But he was learning to enjoy that bastard's company and it would have been nice to hear a few reassuring words for once.

Landing softly on the stone floor, he realized they weren't alone this morning. On the sofa sat Kingsley Shacklebolt next to a much smaller woman that Harry recognized to be Narcissa Malfoy. They faced away from the entrance to the bedroom, speaking quietly with one another in grave tones. Leaning casually against the wall near the fireplace was Malfoy. He stared blankly down at McGonagall beside him, who was fortunately too engrossed in the conversation to notice Harry's entrance.

Skirting around the back wall, he approached the others as if emerging from his own room. "Minister Shacklebolt. Mrs. Malfoy," he greeted them. "What brings you to Hogwarts?"

Kingsley stood and shook his hand with a stern expression on his face. "Harry Potter, so good to see you." He led Harry to the far end of the room and lowered his voice as he continued. "I'm afraid there's been something of a mix-up. I had no idea that you and Draco had been kept here together for all these weeks, if this gets out there could be serious consequences."

"What consequences?" Harry asked, glancing quickly over to Malfoy, who was absently fiddling with the cuff of one of his sleeves and looking bored. "If what gets out, exactly?"

"Your statement is extremely valuable, obviously, but if there is any concern that you've been persuaded to alter your testimony in any way while you've been kept here, that would be grounds for mistrial. You must understand I don't believe that could possibly be the case, but there are others at the Ministry who do not share in my faith."

"Are you saying I won't be needed to testify on Monday?" Harry couldn't be sure if it was relief or disappointment twisting his stomach, but it was overwhelming. He felt slightly dizzy.

Kingsley shook his head, the gold hoop in his ear waving gently with the motion. "Unfortunately, it can't be that simple; we do still need you to appear in court. It's been agreed that it would be best for everyone if, as far as you two are concerned, your time in these rooms had never happened."

Harry wasn't sure he understood. As he was led back toward the sitting area, he watched McGonagall solemnly open the door to let the two guards in. Kingsley nodded and one of them seized Malfoy gruffly by the arm.

"Get off me!" he shouted, shattering the quiet of the morning as he struggled to free himself.

"Draco, sweetie, don't resist," Narcissa instructed nervously from her seat. "It's alright."

"Potter, what have you said?" Malfoy bellowed. "What did you do?" He was dragged out of the room as quickly as the guard shoving him along had entered, his mother trailing behind.

"Where are you taking him?" Harry demanded.

The second guard was suddenly upon him, securing his arms and preventing him from running after the others as if all of this had been planned to the slightest detail. He could hear Malfoy shouting his name, among other profanities, in the corridor.

"He'll be safe," the Minister reassured him, slowly raising his wand. "You have my sincerest apologies, Harry. You have to understand that I wish none of this was necessary."

Blind panic set in and Harry strained to release his arms from the iron grip holding them. He could still hear Malfoy's angry shouts growing faint beyond the door. McGonagall stood rigidly next to it, staring impotently at the Minister of Magic.

As Kingsley's wand was raised to his face, Harry struggled desperately to focus on what he'd learned over the past few weeks. He visualized a brick wall, an invisible shield surrounding him, anything at all forming a barrier between him and everyone else in the room, but the shouts in the corridor filled his head and distracted him completely. He thought of the painful conversation just a few hours earlier; the feeling of raw, bitten lips pressed against his; the solid weight of Draco's spent body on top of his own night after night. He didn't want to let it go, any of it, until he was certain what it all meant.

Harry struggled to protect himself as the memory charm exploded soundlessly from Kingsley's wand. As it flashed toward him, Harry had the distinct impression that the floor had dropped out from under his feet as he stood firmly in place. There was a terrible sensation of inexplicable isolation and loss. Fuzzy memories of cool hands and too much wine, a pale, featureless face and a muffled voice burst into relief and fizzled instantly into darkness.

"How do you feel?" a deep voice asked him from far away.

"Fine," he replied. "Why?"