Disclaimer: Characters are, of course, owned by J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, but oh yes, I'd so love to borrow Draco indefinitely.

Look at the Chapter's end for notes.

Chapter 8

THERE FOR YOU

Take me back to the basics and the simple life
Tell me all of the things that make you feel at ease
Your touch, my comfort, and my lullaby
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night.

- EASE by Troye Sivan

Two weeks later, 20th August 1998

"Stop that, Draco." Harry chided, not looking up from his copy of The Daily Prophet. He was getting mildly irritated by the way Draco was frowning and pacing in the hall like his arse was on fire. Harry knew that the boy was worried sick, after all today was the day when the trial was to be held and if anything, he himself was scared too. But pacing and stomping down the house wouldn't do any good, he knew and that was precisely what he wanted Draco to understand too.

"Stop what?" Draco snapped, still very much trotting and stomping his bare feet on the wooden floor.

Jerk. "Stop with all that trooping and stomping and give your baby feet a little break. Pretty sure they're sore. And so is the poor floor." Harry asserted, still not sparing a glance at the sneering blonde as he ran his eyes on the headlines of the day.

Double Jerk. " I do not have 'baby feet' and I will do whatever I may please, Mother." Draco huffed back but eventually stopped pacing and flopped down on the couch beside Harry. He snatched the Prophet from Harry's hands and gave him his perfect smug look as Harry cried in protest.

"Malfoy, you bloody git. I was reading it." Harry howled, trying his best to plunge on to the blonde and snatch the Prophet from his grasp. Unfortunately so, he was shorter than Draco and that gave Draco full advantage to use his long hands and hold the paper far away above his own head, far far away from Harry's reach. Again he flashed his famous smirk at Harry as Harry let out a humpf and sank down into the couch, away from Draco, sulking.

"Awh Harbear, don't be mad. C'mere" Draco crooned, pulling Harry towards himself.

"Nope." Harry frowned defiantly, folding both his arms across his chest just to show his absolute refusal. "And don't call me that." He provided all the resistance he could to stop his body being gravitated towards the said git, but failed miserably as the fireworks erupted once again under his skin where Draco was pulling him now and that made his head go fuzzy. Draco, once again with his stupid-smug face, pulled at Harry's folded arms and Harry lost. Sodding brain! Can't even understand one command Harry gave it and why does it always have to rebel like that? His equally disobedient body gave in to the blonde's electric touch and let itself be dragged and cradled into Draco's lap.

"That's totally not fair. You cannot use That as a weapon on me, Malfoy." Harry glared at the blonde but his body defied his expressions once again as it relaxed in the touch and let the fireworks from his arms spread all over his being. He always relished the touch of Draco's skin over his. If anything, they calmed his nerves and made his head go a little bleary, sucking all of his worries and fears away. And he knew Draco felt the same. And that was the only reason both the boys always preferred staying close to each other these days. It helped them keep the other calm and sane amidst all the fuss going on about the trials and it's aftermath.

This touching and the need of constant physical contact had developed between them after the night, two weeks ago, when Draco had cried his heart out to Harry and then intertwined their hands into each other's. Although that had been a simple gesture, it had created some sort of connection strings between them that had made them feel attached towards each other. Harry had again slept in Draco's room that night obliging to the blonde's request, their bodies almost at the opposite edges of the bed but their hands still interlaced. Draco never let go of Harry's hand that night and Harry never tried to disengage them, knowing that it somehow made Draco feel safe and calmed his own nerves and silenced his inner demons and nightmares. And after that night, sleeping in each other's room had become a habit. Every night, either Draco would request Harry to stay back in his room for the night or Harry would practically drag Draco into his for the night. (Draco absolutely detested the gryffindorishness of Harry's room although he had been the one to decorate it as such. Whenever Harry would point that out, Draco would glare at the raven and say, "In my defense, I'd like to enlighten your dim-wit brain that I had never imagined I'd have to spend even a fraction of my absolutely slytherin life's second in your humble gryffindorkish abode." So much for just sleeping in one night, Harry had thought.)

So, basically, it was their mutual needs that made them share their personal spaces with each other and neither of them regretted their decision even for a moment. At first what had started as simple hand holding or middling one handed hugs had soon progressed to full body contact bear-hugs to sitting so close to each other that their bodies would practically be pressing at their side to no more sleeping at the opposite ends of the bed to soft, swift kisses on Draco's forehead. Though Draco utterly despised the last part and almost threatened to hex Harry into oblivion every time he as much even tried to bring his hand near Draco's forehead, it was Harry's favorite thing to do. He loved to kiss Draco's fringed forehead and tuck the blonde's smooth, long hair behind his ears whenever they'd fall over his face. Draco thought it made him look like a Damsel in distress and Harry his Knight in shining armor. No wait, his Knight in a dull red oversized pineapple jumper. But Harry always asserted that Draco wasn't a Damsel or even a princess; he was a fucking drama Queen. And after that Draco always enjoyed watching Harry fume with anger while struggling with the Bat-bogey hex inflicted on him by the blonde. It was Draco's sweet revenge; or so he liked to call it. And there was one thing above it all that made them both comfortable with the shared contact; it wasn't sexual at all. It was rather caring and soothing, almost like friendly gestures. Or so they liked to believe.

Draco had never in his entire life thought that he'd be friends with one Harry Potter after Harry had rejected his friendship publically in their first year. But things had changed a lot between the two former rivals in the past two weeks, Draco knew that. And if he would be perfectly honest, things had been changing between them ever since he had set his foot into Harry's life again, after the war. He'd seen Harry fight valiantly in the war against Voldemort. He'd seen him die and come back to life and kill the blasted dark lord in front of his own eyes. He'd seen him protect his friends and their families and every person that had belonged to Hogwarts and it was in those moments that he had deeply resented his own haughtiness and arrogance that had lead Harry to deny him his friendship. If he hadn't been so much of a jerk back then when they were eleven and had played his cards differently, it'd have been him and his family that Harry would be protecting and that thought had shook him to the core. But it had been too late to amend his mistakes and within a few minutes, also insignificant, as he had seen his whole family crumple down to lifeless masses. It wasn't a memory Draco wanted to relieve, ever, but he had to let it out of his mind before it'd swell inside him so much that it'd eat him up alive. And who was better a person than Harry 'I'm all ears, coffee mugs and bear hugs' Potter to let on his inside traumas. Hence, that night, two weeks ago, Draco had unfolded the mystery of his survival at the war; all the while holding onto Harry's hand as an anchor to keep himself from drifting too far into the grim.

He had been begging in front of a Death Eater to recognize him as their own when he had heard his father's strangled cry as he was hit with the killing curse. He'd ran to save him but his mother had hauled him from doing so and had dragged him away from the war front, ushering him to flee away with her.

They had been so close to apparating from the scene when suddenly a flash of bright of green had knocked his mother from behind. He'd held her in his lap as she had mumbled to him to run away and hide and then had seen her wither to death. He had then apparated to the Manor with his mother's dead body still clutched in his arms and had buried her in their backyard garden. He'd then hidden himself in the attic at the manor and never came out.

He'd been starving to death and there had been times when he had tried eating his own flesh to quench his hunger. He'd often bitten his lip way too hard so that it'd bleed and he would then suck at his own blood quell his thirst. Often at times he had cursed his entire existence and wished he'd die. He had no reason to live anymore after all. His family was dead, voldemort was dead; there was nobody who would accept him into the wizarding world ever again. It had been in those moments when he'd pick at his own skin and bang his head mercilessly into the walls until he'd pass out from the excruciating pain and exertion. But he couldn't muster up the courage to kill himself; it just felt too much and somewhere in his head he always hoped someone would find him and save him.

He didn't knew how many days had it been since he'd passed out on the blood-stained, muddy floor when he sensed something moving inside his body, inside his blood; magic. Snape had eventually found him, passed out on the attic floor and had healed his wounds. He had then taken him to his own house and nursed him to health. He'd kept him hidden at his house for two days until he was fed enough and looked quite presentable and then informed Dumbledore about him. And to Draco's extreme disbelief, Dumbledore had promised Snape that he would keep his godson safe. He had then convinced Snape to let Draco stay with Harry and his family as it was the safest household there would ever be at the moment. Of course Draco and Snape both had argued their tongues off but Dumbledore had stood firm on his grounds and eventually Draco had to move.

Draco had been skeptical about the whole situation of moving in with Harry until he had stepped into the burrow. And then everything had changed. He knew this was the same person who had been his rival for almost half of his life but there was something in the air between them in that moment that had drawn a strange thread from his heart and hooked it to Harry's. He'd then never been able to look at Harry with fury or hatred instead he always found his insides melting whenever Harry would look at him. He didn't knew what Harry felt towards him now that the war was over and they had no obvious reasons for standing at opposite shores but he prayed that Harry would at least not despise him. Why did he even want that? Trust Draco, he himself had no bloody idea. Still he couldn't keep his snarky mouth shut at all the times and lashed out at either Harry or his friends whenever he felt paranoid or frustrated at the entire scenario.

But then Harry had agreed to let him stay with them at Grimmauld Place and he also had seemed to sort of starting to care about Draco's well being. And that was when he had given up on the belief of never befriending the raven-haired boy and extended his hand once again to start a new era of friendship between them and prayed with all the pieces of his heart, that Harry would not refuse him once again. And he was immensely grateful to whichever God was listening to his prayers because Harry had contentedly accepted his offer and was now holding his hand with equal vigor and regard as himself and did it somehow fix all those broken pieces of Draco's heart? Oh yes, it did. It so did.

Harry hadn't felt any different than Draco had felt. He had seen Draco struggling to walk away from the war and failing profoundly. He had seen Draco wincing and flinching when his father had pressured him to recognize Harry at the manor so that he could hand him to the Dark Lord and gain his lost respect and position among the Death Eaters. Harry could have bet on his entire Gringott's vault that Draco had recognized him but he had been shocked beyond his wits when Draco had denied being sure that it was Harry. That was exactly the moment that had eventually lead Harry to have an upper hand in the war and win it. And saving Draco from the fiendfire had been his return gift to the blonde for saving his life at the manor. Though Harry had never been so sure why the blonde had risked his life to save him, his arch nemesis, in the first place and when he had heard that Draco had been killed in the war, all he had felt for the boy was pity and remorse.

That was until Draco had made his godly entrance into Harry's life once again; in all flesh and bones and some entirely baffling feelings. Harry had instantly felt drawn to his undead nemesis and had agreed to let Draco share his household. Though he had been paranoid about the other boy's intentions at first, all his doubts had blown off into thin air when Draco had extended his hand for friendship the second time in past eight years and Harry had never felt happier in so long. He had cheerfully accepted Draco's offer in a heartbeat and he was glad about his decision at the very moment as he now lay content and serene in Draco's lap.

"I can and I will, Potter." Draco smirked and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, pulling him closer to himself and resting his head on Harry's shoulder; the prophet still crumpled in his hand. Harry sighed and gave in to the moment, gently running his fingers up and down on left Draco's arm.

"It'll be alright." Harry spoke softly after a while.

"Mhm." Draco mumbled and closed his eyes, his hands still gripping onto Harry tight.

"Ah, scoot a little love bunnies." Sirius's amused voice bought both the boys attention back to their surroundings. They instantly detangled their bodies from each other and while Draco all but glared at Sirius, Harry took his time to turn completely pink. He had no idea what Sirius or Remus thought about his strange relationship with the blonde but hoped they didn't roll down to wrong conclusions. After all, Sirius had been the one to lecture Harry about ending his enmity with Draco and make a truce with the boy, wasn't he?. And now that they had finally made their truce, Harry wished his Godfather would not assume it to be anymore than peaceful friendship. But the main flaw was that Sirius had seen Harry and Draco acting differently ever since they had moved to Grimmauld. He had noticed every single moment between them with such keen interest that there was no way he was looking at their affectionate gestures and shared beds as anything but kinship. And while Remus stayed shut most of the time when it came to their relation, Sirius, true to his personality, never let any chance pass where he could embarrass them for their actions; just like he did moments ago.

Harry knew his Godfather wasn't one to go beating around the bush and let them stay put peacefully. He had accepted the fact that every time he and Draco would so much as look at each other in Sirius's presence, he would not refrain himself from voicing his gay thoughts aloud. And why would he? After all he and Remus shared the same affection. Didn't they? They had been in love with each other ever since their old school days and were now legit a couple living together and taking care of their adopted children. They were in a perfect relationship and Harry knew that Sirius and Remus wanted the same for him. Although they might had not hoped for Harry to turn out as bent as they were and wished that Harry would date some nice Gryffindor girl (or any girl who wasn't in slytherin because Sirius despised that house to no measure and also played kickass Quidditch. Well atleast that point was covered so that's probably why Sirius didn't mind Draco strolling after Harry much?) and have a proper marriage and raise his own progeny; they were all the more excited to find out about his and Draco's relationship (which it wasn't, really.) And why so suddenly did Sirius let go of his religious beliefs about the dark and evil slytherin house aura and approved Draco to be Harry's love interest was beyond Harry's understanding. (Again, definitely just the Quidditch part, he guessed.)

"One, there's no place for your sneaky little self in here. Two, I heartily counter the love part. And three, sod off." Draco groaned when Sirius took a seat next to him, squishing him in between his and Harry's bodies. He whacked Draco on the head with the piece of parchment that he was holding. "Language, kid." Sirius scoffed. Harry snickered.

"Oh, you're one to speak about that, now are you?" Draco hissed, lifting his squished hand from beneath Sirius's ass and flicking a finger at Harry. "After all you've done to me in the past two weeks? Never." He deadpanned at Sirius.

"You started it." Sirius huffed, paying no heed to Draco's futile attempts at releasing himself from the human cage. And Harry was enjoying this little drama far too much to help Draco. That utter twat.

"Oh no, I didn't." Draco stated defensively. "I just spared us all the hearing disability that would have dawned upon this household if that cacophony had lasted even a single more second. It was a noble deed."

"That isn't cacophony. That is called the 80's Punk rock music." Sirius rolled his eyes. "Pretty sure you wouldn't have heard it with, yanno, your wizarding upbringing and stiff parents? Nevermind you're so boring."

"That's absurd. You're boring, not me!" Draco exclaimed, utterly agitated. "Next time you as much as think about turning the telly channel to Punk rock hullabaloo, I'll charm the muuggle wand invisible." He contended with a wild smirk growing on his face.

"Remote." Harry interrupted, enjoying every moment of the banter. Draco snapped his head towards Harry and fixed him with a glare and an equal angry finger, again. "Fuck off."

"Don't you dare blondie. Or I'll charm all your knickers red this time." Sirius winked and upon seeing the horrified expression on Draco's face, he wriggled his eyebrows devilishly. Harry let out a snort from behind Draco.

"You wouldn't." Draco sneered, now truly angry. He had yet not gotten over the last time his hair had been turned baby pink by Sirius when he had transfigured the telly muggle wand into a sickle and hidden it so that Sirius couldn't find it and would spare them all from the stupid punk rock blast.

"Oh I can, and I will." Sirius grinned evilly voicing Draco's own words from minutes ago as he stood up and with one last wink in Harry's direction, stalked off to his room while leisurely tying his hair into a man bun, leaving behind an utterly shocked slytherin blonde on the couch and a laughing heap of Gryffindor on the floor.

A/N : OH MY GOD it has been almost five months since I last updated this story and I'm really, really sorry guys. I swear I wasn't gonna leave it like that and I HAVE RETURNED NOW (from the upside down, that stupid demogorgon took me ugh) and I shall continue updating it asa I can. Until then, a short chapter that I just wrote this morning. Also, I'm thinking about skipping the entire Wizengamont thing and heading straight to their Eighth year? What'd guys think? Let me know in the comments section below.

Also I'd like to mention to all you drarry lovers that I now have a roleplay account on instagram where me and my friend (and many others) rp as Draco and Harry (and other characters from hp). If you wish, do have a look at our accounts. Mine is realdracomalfoyy. Thank you and Have a good day y'all.

Much love,

Dranne.