Disclaimer: Not much of anything is mine.

Warning: Maybe language, but probably not. Slytherins cuddling. Alarmed Harry.

Authors note: So Harry in my head, is the type to be alarmed by almost any PDA because affection wasn't offered to him as a child, or displayed in front of him as a child so he likely finds it all alarming in public.

Malfoy turned to Harry, who was still mulling over his response. Malfoy climbed to his feet slowly, his movements lacking their sleek grace, and for the first time, he noticed how bony and underweight Malfoy looked. He watched as the other boy retreated silently, confused, and sat there for another moment, trying to decide what to think about the tow headed boy.

He knew he should trust him, Ginny did, even Hermione was coming around. Malfoy had gone and rescued his friends, and even though it was rumored he was turning his little gang into killers, Harry couldn't exactly blame him, since they were both sort of doing all of this because they missed their parents. But at the same time, Harry couldn't help it, he was suspicious of any ulterior motives, why would Malfoy just switch sides, mid war. He'd over heard Malfoy and Zabini talking about Greyback, and it sounded like Malfoy used to be all chummy and in his pack, and weren't werewolves supposed to be loyal?

And the killing… And how calm Ginny and even Neville were about talking about how many people Chaos had killed, and how they hadn't killed yet, but they would and they were sure that the other side bloody deserved it, and they didn't get why Hermione and Harry were so perplexed by it. It was just, it made it all too real, seeing his friends, who he was used to seeing goofing off, and studying, here learning curses, and calmly telling him that if they had to, they were sure they could kill.

He sighed, and considered trying to go find Ron, but Ron was probably with Ginny or Dean, and both of those two got all cagey whenever Harry was suspicious of Malfoy. Apparently living in this weird building had the side effect of making you suddenly adore Malfoy.

After a while, he got cold, and got up, to go find Hermione. It had been a little subdued around this old place, since he wasn't allowed back where all of rebels slept, but he was going to hang himself if he was forced to do one more mundane task, or read one more book with the refugees.

He found Hermione with Dumbledore. The old man had not woken up, though they had managed to fix his broken arm, and ease his breathing. Harry glanced over at Malfoy's bed, but was slightly alarmed to see it empty, and instead the blonde head one bed over on Zabini's bed. Harry privately judged Malfoy at not being able to find his own bed, he hadn't been hurt that badly, had he?

Harry and Ron had spent the past few days since they'd arrived (when they weren't horsing around with the other Gryffindors) sending owls to anyone they could think of that might have a hint as to what came next or who might know how to wake up unconscious very powerful wizards.

Harry sat down quietly next to Hermione, and his friends glanced up from her book, and gave him a smile. He examined the book title and found himself bored just looking at the ancient dusty cover.

He leaned back against the stone wall, and let his gaze wander. Seamus had gotten his bandages off of his newly mended hand, and had been set loose on the rest of the rebels, as a form of punishment no doubt, the Irishman had always been a terror when he had pent up energies.

Harry froze when he saw Zabini's arm snake around Malfoy's middle. Malfoy was facing him, asleep, and he stayed asleep, even as Zabini pulled him closer. Oh god. Slytherins knew how to cuddle? And also, did Parkinson know? She had been all over Malfoy just the other day, he had seen it, weren't they dating, have the Slytherins no decency at all. He stumbled to his feet, and set off, mumbling an excuse to an oblivious, uncaring Hermione.

He wondered why he felt annoyed, it wasn't like he actually cared, but that kind of thing seemed like it shouldn't be flaunted about, not that it was about it being two boys, he was fine with that, but it was about it being Malfoy, didn't he had a pureblooded reputation to maintain, and didn't he have about nine hundred girlfriends in Slytherin, did they know about this cuddling that the man was conducting with that dangerous looking other Slytherin, Zabini was a shifty character, maybe someone should warn Malfoy off of him.

Harry took a deep breath, realizing he wasn't sure where his footfalls were leading him, and his shock at seeing Slytherins express affection faded, in lieu of curiosity about where he was.

He wandered and eventually found himself in front a rickety staircase, which he climbed. He wandered along, continuing to randomly pick directions, and he could feel the air starting to smell weird. It was almost like an old, extinguished fire, thick and sooty but also old and musty.

He turned, and came upon a blackened, burnt room, so ruined that the floor didn't look safe enough to cross. Harry stopped and back tracked, turning up a stone staircase, his fingers skimming the blackened stones, clearly scored from flames.

He came upon several burnt rooms before it struck him. This was Malfoy Manor. He'd read about the fire, assuming that it was abandoned. Malfoy's mum had died here, along with her friends. How could Malfoy do that, bring himself to live in the shadow of his mothers tomb.

He felt a little sick, just as how when he thought about the bodies that they'd seen in that house, those mangled bodies. Ginny might've done that. Malfoy did. Ginny had told them how they signed their bodies, so they would know who did what, and though she refused to tell him who was who, he had worked out from listening, that the others called her Tart, and called Malfoy dad, or da, or father. But what was really eating at him, why hadn't Malfoy offered any more information. Didn't he want to help him? Harry was growing frustrated sitting here doing nothing in this old house, and sick thinking of how this stupid war was turning his class mates into wild eyed, feral killers.