There was a time you'd let me know

What's real and going on below,

But now you never show it to me do you

Remember when I moved in you

The holy dark was moving too

And every breath we drew was hallelujah

It's not a cry you can hear at night

It's not somebody who's seen the light

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

-Rufus Wainwright

Harry was following at Draco's heels down a wide hall lit bright by the early afternoon light that was now pouring through the large windows. The soft beams of sunlight should've held soft breaths of warmth as they walked through them, but instead there was something distinctly chilling clinging to the air. Harry saw Draco shiver from it, his robes fluttering as the motion traveled through them.

Draco turned the next corner and came to a stop in front of a large door. Harry stopped behind him, feeling inexplicably shaken. A deep sigh shuddered the air, filling it with a sense of foreboding.

Draco opened the door and stepped through.

On the other side, the room was large and well lit, the walls occupied with tastefully filled bookshelves and expensive paintings, while the rest of the space held scatterings of stiff, uncomfortable looking furniture. Lucius Malfoy stood behind a long, ornate desk desk, both hands balled into tight fists against the top, his knuckles white from the strain of supporting his weight. Even from where he stood, Harry could see his biceps trembling.

"Father," Draco announced his presence curtly.

Lucius' eyes snapped up, and Harry shrank closer to Draco's back. Neither of them seemed to notice. "Who were you with when I came into your room?" Lucius asked, his voice like nails scraping against ice.

"Not even going to give the pretense of niceties today, are we?"

The lines on Lucius' face multiplied. "Was it him?"

Harry didn't know how, but he could hear Draco's heart quicken. "No."

"I've seen the letters, Draco. I—"

"It wasn't him."

Lucius frowned at his son. He looked old under the unfiltered light of the sun, the hollow pockets under his cheekbones creating deep shadows that made the lines around his mouth look deep, and worn. "You're playing a dangerous game, Draco—one that you're not prepared to play—and you're going to stop."

Draco stepped forward, and Harry stepped after him. "If you know anything about me at all, then you know that there is nothing that you can do or say that will make me stop. I am not a child anymore."

"You're my child!" Lucius thundered, so loudly that the whole room shook. Though Harry hadn't thought it possible, his face became even paler. "I won't let you do it, Draco! I won't let you destroy yourself!"

"Father…"

Lucius raised his wand.

"Father, stop!"

"Confringo—"

Harry jolted awake.

Another dream…

His breath shuddered against the still morning air, his body tight and twisted in the sheets. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing at his face and reaching for his glasses. Blood pounded in his skull, a constant reminder of the void growing inside of him.

Harry stared out the window, wincing as the bright light hit his retinas. Had it only been a day? It seemed like longer. It seemed like ages.

The memory sifted through his mind once more, like sand through an hourglass. Draco's body moving against him, the hard line of his mouth prying Harry's open. It raged inside of him; flashing brilliance and perfection. And pain. Harry didn't know what to make of what had happened. He didn't know what it meant, or how he even felt about it. There was no way of knowing what was actually him and what was the spell. All he knew, was that the farther away from Draco he'd walked, the worse it had gotten.

He felt sick—broken down and maimed by this magic that had sank its claws into him. Every breath hurt, every movement like the scraping of needles against his bones. The burning desire for Draco's presence practically consumed him; it was all he could think about. Being able to feel a soft sigh against his face, a brush of fingertips on skin.

How can you kiss somebody like that and it not matter?

Harry curled his knees into his chest, burying his face into his arms and groaning. His head throbbed painfully as he tried to work out what to do next.

There was a part of him that knew he should go to Ron and Hermione. They would help him. But if they somehow found out about Draco's involvement, there was no knowing what they would do—what Ron would do. Harry grimaced. Despite what was happening to him, he didn't need to give Ron any more reasons to be out for Draco's blood. Not after what happened to Ginny.

So what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to fix this?

Harry pressed his forehead into his knuckles, feeling for the first time since his years before Hogwarts, horribly and incredibly alone. He attempted to bury himself deeper into his arms, not noticing the slight creak of giving hinges, or the soft scuffling of feet against the dusty wooden floor.

What if he'd ruined it all—everything he and Draco had tried to fix? They'd started to build something substantial between them. Maybe it hadn't quite been trust, or friendship, but at the same time it had felt necessary. No one else had ever looked at Harry like Draco did, and Harry couldn't deny that he had felt freed by it.

"Master Potter?" came a low grumble.

Draco didn't see him through a filter like everyone else seemed to; there was no sense that Harry's existence was something to be put on display and admired.

"Master Potter, sir?"

Something tugged sharply at Harry's pant leg. Harry's eyes shot open and he leapt back and slammed into the headboard with a startled yelp. Kreacher stood at the foot of his bed, looking as wrinkled and grey as ever, gazing at Harry with wide eyes and perked ears.

"Master Potter," the house elf said, in a gentler tone than he usually took, "you have some visitors. Would you like me to see them in?"

Harry's heart fluttered as he jolted back to the edge of the bed, and his entire body ached in protest of his rather sudden movement. "Who is it?" he was unable to hide the hope in his voice.

"Master Ron, and Miss Ginny " he replied, and with a noted drop in politeness he added, "and Miss Hermione."

Harry bit his lip and tried not to let his spirits drop. There was no reason to be disappointed. "Yeah, go ahead and let them in. Tell them I'm up here."

With a slight bow and a snap of his fingers, Kreacher disappeared. Harry sighed and laid back fully on his bed, closing his eyes and listening to the approaching thud of footsteps. Draco's feet don't thud when he walks. Harry crinkled his nose. Not that I've ever really noted what Draco's feet do when he walks, or the way his hips move when—UGH! Stop! Stop! STOP! Stop thinking about him! I can do that for five minutes, can't I?

"Harry?" a brown head of frizz poked around the doorframe.

Harry rose with a weary smile, still batting away thoughts of walking and hips. "'Lo Hermione."

Hermione entered the room tentatively, Harry's weariness echoed on her face. She was followed in by Ron, who looked anything but comfortable, and then by Ginny, whose eyes looked sharper than the edge of a knife.

They stood in front of him, each with a respective look of uneasiness. Harry's brow furrowed. "Is something wrong?"

Hermione looked at the other two, struggling with something. When her chocolate gaze returned to Harry, he saw the unfamiliar reflection of uncertainty in her eyes. "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry was momentarily thrown by the question. "Yeah, why?" He wondered for a brief moment if Ron and Hermione really had been at Malfoy Manor last night, and had seen what had happened at the gate.

"Well," Hermione continued, intertwining her hands, "Ginny said you seemed upset when you left the other night." Harry's eyes moved to Ginny. "And when we tried to Floo you, Kreacher said that you hadn't come back home."

Harry and Ginny held each other's gaze; both questioning yet neither willing to answer.

"I was out," he said monotonously, his stare unfaltering. The statement wasn't a lie, but there was no point in being elaborate with the truth if they weren't going to be.

Ron stepped forward, challenging him. "Where?"

Both Hermione and Ginny looked taken aback by Ron's sudden charge, but Harry held tight to his indifferent poise. He glanced at Ginny once more, wondering.

"Harry?" Hermione started forward as well, her brown eyes searching. "What's wrong? You're shaking."

Harry blinked several times and noticed that he was indeed shaking. He fisted the fabric of his jeans, willing his muscles to still. "I'm fine, Hermione, thanks. Really guys, everything's fine."

"You still haven't answered my question," Ron said tightly.

Harry's gaze slid over to Ron and he felt something cold condense in his stomach. "It's really not any of your business, Ron," Harry replied vehemently.

Ron's eyes darkened. "If you would get your head out of your arse for just ten seconds, you would realize that I'm trying to help you!"

Harry clenched his teeth so hard that pain rocketed through his jaw.

"I know that these past few weeks haven't been easy for you! I'm not an idiot! I know that you felt," he struggled for a term, his brow creasing, "isolated from everyone after you defeated You-Know-Who, but hanging out with Malfoy is not the answer! He's dangerous! And he's using you!"

"Using me?" Harry flared. "What in the world could he be using me for?"

"Have you not noticed that his parents are the only Death Eaters that haven't been sent to Azkaban yet?"

"I have no control over that!" Harry snarled defensively.

"Yes you do! People have seen the two of you together, Harry! There pictures in the papers of you and him at Ollivanders, and boarding the Hogwarts Express! You think Ministry officials haven't taken notice? You think that they're just ignoring something like that?"

Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, anger making his vision starkly clear. "How the Ministry decides to deal with ex Death Eaters," Harry said, his words sharp, "has nothing to do with me. They have no reason to care about me now."

"They have every reason!" Ron yelled. "You killed You-Know-Wh—"

"That's NOT who I am, Ron!" Harry screamed, flying from his seat and shoving Ron back. Ron's blue eyes went wide as he stumbled back into Hermione and Ginny. "And Malfoy's not using me, and he's not dangerous! And I'm sick and tired of having this conversation with you!"

They all stared at him. Hermione was the first to find her voice. "Harry," she said gently, her hands squeezing Ron's arm, "there's no reason to get so upset…we're just trying to help. We're only doing what we think is best."

"What you think is best?" Harry seethed at her. "Is that right? Then how about you tell me where you were last night?"

Hermione's face went red.

"I think we should go," Ginny said quietly.

With a sneer, Ron shook himself free of the two girls. "So that's how it's going to be then?" he asked ruefully.

"Yes," Harry hissed.

Ron looked at him, and Harry's entire body went rigid as he was swept away in a cobalt sea of fury and pain. "You don't even realize what you're doing, do you," said Ron. "You're pushing us away, for him!"

"You're the one starting the fights here, Ron! Going through my mail, accusing Malfoy of things without any proof—"

"Proof! Since when have you cared about proof?"

"Harry, Ron, stop!" Hermione shrieked, tears welling in her eyes. "This isn't what we came here for!"

"Tell me," Ron continued, his voice like the calm before a raging storm, "when did we come to mean so little to you? Tell me why we aren't enough anymore."

The words were like a slap across Harry's face. He stood frozen, rooted to the spot. "It's not like that."

"Yes it is!" Ron gestured wildly. "You're choosing him over us!"

"No I'm not! I'm just asking you not to accuse him of things he's not guilty of!"

"You don't know what he's guilty of!"

"Neither do you!"

"He's guilty of tearing us apart! He's guilty of ruining everything!" Ron shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "After the war ended, things were supposed to change! Everything was supposed to be better! We were supposed to be happy! You weren't supposed to go off galavanting with the enemy! You weren't—" He broke off, his eyes gleaming and his face red. "Tell me why I'm not enough!"

Harry shook his head, his tongue still and unresponsive.

"Tell me!"

Harry's silence was broken only by the sound of Hermione's stifled sobs.

"Whatever. I'm done." Ron turned, and was halfway through the doorway before he stopped, his breath showing heavily on his shoulders as they rose and fell. "You do what you want. I don't care anymore." And then he was gone.

Harry knew he should move—bolt down the stairs after Ron and tell him something—anything—that would make this better. But he didn't. He didn't even move.

In a flurry of tears and raked sobs Hermione dashed after Ron, leaving Harry and Ginny to stare at each other in the thick darkness.

A deep groove grew between Ginny's brows. "This isn't what I wanted."

Harry's body violently tightened and then relaxed. His knees buckled and he fell back to the bed. He allowed himself to hunch forward, perching his elbows on his knees. "I know." He sighed. "I know…I'm sorry."

"Harry," Ginny kneeled down in front of him, and looked at him with hard, midnight eyes. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? If you're trusting Draco…you have to be sure—"

Raised voices from below cut her off. Harry's head snapped up as he heard a heated exchange of two male voices, and his heart practically sprang into his throat. There was a loud bang, followed by a crash, and then Hermione was yelling too.

Harry and Ginny both sprang towards the door in unison. Harry instinctually fumbled through his pocket for his wand as he bounded down the stairs at Ginny's heels. And then he remembered…his wand was still at Malfoy Manor…and he still couldn't use magic.

"Malfoy!" Ron's voice carried through the house like a clap of thunder.

Ginny stopped so suddenly Harry nearly crashed into her. She rounded on him, blocking the narrow stairway. "Malfoy? You don't think…?"

Harry bit his lip, as he heard something shatter and spill to the floor below.

"God dammit, Weasley, will you stop breaking things! If you're going to hex me you could at least try to hit me!"

Harry's breath hitched.

"Tell me what you've done to him, Malfoy! What've you done to Harry?"

Harry shoved past Ginny and was down the second flight of stairs within seconds. He blinked several times as he entered a cloud of pluming dust. "Ron? Malfoy?" he called out, trying not to cough.

"Potter?" Draco called back. "Your little attack weasel is trying to destroy your house!"

Harry heard a snort that was distinctly Ron, and then there was the creaking of old hinges and a sudden light. Through the haze, Harry could see their outlines; dark and gray through the layers of airborne dust. Ron and Hermione stood in the doorway, their silhouettes harshly outlined by the light of the sun, while Draco stood to the side, a myriad of shade. The sight of Draco nearly made Harry's heart stop.

And then the door shut, and everything was dark.

"Potter?" Draco called once more, shuffling further into the house.

"Is it Saturday already?" Harry said weakly, not quite knowing how to react. The dust was settling now, and Harry could just barely make out the remnants of what had just taken place.

"Very funny." Draco finally stepped into sight, wearing a wry smile. "None of this mess was my fault by the way. Weasley freaked when he saw me walk through the door and—"

"Hold on a sec." Harry stepped towards Draco, noticing something odd. Even through the light film of dust, the small ring of faded blue and purple around Draco's eye was evident. "Merlin." Harry breathed, staring aghast at the swollen eye and bruised cheek. "Did Ron do that?"

Draco's smile twitched. "Potter, don't fuss. It's really no big deal. Nothing a few simple mending spells won't take care of, and—"

"Draco!"

Harry flinched at the sound of Ginny's voice.

Draco looked over Harry's shoulder, a sneer marring his bruised face. "Weaselette."

"What the hell happened here?" she snapped, her eyes wide as they took in the fragments of furniture that were scattered around the foyer.

Draco chuckled, his gaze moving back to Harry with a mischievous twinkle. "Seems your brother was offended by my overwhelming and uncompromising beauty. I tend to have that effect on ugly people."

Ginny's expression didn't change. "I assume that you're joking."

"Potter, you haven't been letting her talk to Carly, have you?"

"Who?" Ginny asked.

"No one," Harry said, sending Draco a withering stare.

Ginny shook her head, her soft curls moving back and forth over her shoulders. "You shouldn't be so reckless, Draco," she said sternly.

Draco's smirk turned sour. He rolled his shoulders back, his face cold as stone. "I came here to check on Harry. I wasn't expecting to be harassed by your brother in the process."

Harry let out a baited breath at the sound of his first name in Draco's voice. It felt slick and cool, like the feeling of silk against bare skin. "You came to check on me?"

Draco looked at him, raising a brow. "Why else would I be here?"

A shiver racked Harry's spine as Draco's eyes swept over him. Harry's skin prickled with every breath, and he could feel impossible heat like fire radiating from the other boy's body. Merlin, if he could but raise his hand to touch the fabric of his robe. His hand twitched, aching for the motion.

"So did Ron give you that black eye?" Ginny asked, shattering the stillness that had enveloped Harry.

Draco's entire body went rigid.

"Oh," Ginny said elusively. Her lips looked like they weren't sure whether to scowl or smile. "I see…"

"Don't, Ginny," Draco said softly. "Leave it alone."

Harry glance between the two. "Leave what alone? Did Ron not do it?" And then Harry remembered his dream—the sight of Lucius Malfoy raising his wand, his brow tight and his face pale. "Wait…don't tell me that it was your—"

"Shut it, Potter!" Draco snarled, and Harry felt the words slash through him. Draco took a deep breath in through his nose, and held it there. "The kitchen is still down that way, isn't it?" He jerked his chin towards the hall. "I'll just wait for you there."

Ginny frowned at him. "Draco…"

"I'll talk to you later, Ginny." Draco swept past them both, giving Harry a noticeably wider girth than was absolutely necessary. Harry watched him go, his heart giving a sharp pang with every step Draco took away from him.

"Why is he coming to check on you?" Ginny's voice pulled him back.

He looked at her, and was surprised to find her closer than before. A strangely sour smell filled his nose as he inhaled. "I—uh…"

"Did something happen?"

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as thoughts of being pinned to Draco's bed raced through his mind. His blood gave a hot pulse. "No."

Ginny crowded in even closer, glaring up at him. "You're lying."

Harry swallowed.

"Tell me."

"Look, Ginny—"

"Tell me," she demanded.

Helplessly cornered, Harry felt his resolve give. Ginny wasn't Ron—she'd wanted to help Malfoy before and there was no reason why that should have changed. And Harry couldn't deny that he wanted to tell someone else, if only to ease the burden. "When I went to Malfoy Manor the other night," he began tentatively, I touched the front gate."

"You…touched the front gate?"

"It sort of had a powerful spell on it."

"Well of course it did!"

Embarrassed, Harry flushed. He supposed it should have been rather obvious.

"You're lucky it didn't kill you," Ginny berated. "Merlin, I don't know what I would have done."

Harry was momentarily taken aback by the rush of tenderness he felt at Ginny's words.

Ginny's eyes drifted down the hall. She looked suddenly much older than she actually was. "So he helped you then? Afterwards?"

"In a way." Harry followed her gaze, nodding thoughtfully as a flush rose into his cheeks. "He's different than I thought he was though. I see why—I see why you like him."

"Does that mean that you like him too?"

"I do." Harry felt a soft smile rise into the curl of his lips.

"Good," Ginny said. "That's good."

Harry gave a noncommittal hum. He honestly wasn't sure whether liking Draco was a good thing or not.

"I should go. Hermione will need help calming Ron down."

The mentioning of Ron's name brought with it a cold stab in Harry's chest. He shifted his weight, whatever lightness he'd felt before pulled down by the heavy knowledge that Ron still didn't understand—that he may never understand. No argument that Harry made seemed to break through whatever wall Ron had built around his hatred for Draco. And yet Harry couldn't bring himself to blame him for it. After all, he'd been stuck there too.

"Ron will come around." Ginny reached up to touch his arm, but seemed to think better of it halfway during the motion. Her arm fell limply back to her side.

"Maybe," Harry said.

"Maybe," Ginny agreed, making her way back towards the door. "But if you were able to let go of how you felt about him before, then I think there's hope for Ron." She paused. "Maybe."

The door opened, shut, and Harry was alone.