This is wrong

I should be gone

Yet here I lay 'cause I can't stay away

Roses bloom in your dirty room, I come to play

'Cause I can't stay away, no I can't stay away

I'm conflicted, I inhale now I'm addicted

To this place, to you babe

I can't stay away—can't stay away

We get up, we go down, then we go one more round

It's wrong they say, and I can't stay, no, I can't stay away

-The Veronicas

Harry's feet hit the pavement before he even realized he was making to land. Apparition was something he was sure he'd never get used to. But it was fast and the sudden appearance of Grimmauld Place caught in the light of the setting sun had his pulse pounding against the base of his throat.

His cheeks were flushed and wet from the wind, and his hair was even more disorderly than usual. His nice shirt was now disastrously wrinkled and sticking to the sweat on his chest. At the moment, he assumed he had the appearance of someone half wild, but he hardly cared.

The sun was low in the west now, and already the sky above had faded into a deep muted blue, flared with ribbons of red and orange. Draco Malfoy stood not twenty feet away, leaning idly against a brick post just outside his doorway. Draco hadn't noticed him yet—he was preoccupied with studying a half-torn piece of parchment. His pale brows were furrowed together in thought, and his grey eyes were alight with concentration. Harry found himself frozen in awe, and the emotion that surged through his veins at that moment was so potent it felt as if his skin was the only thing holding him all in one place.

Draco blinked suddenly and looked up, his eyes immediately finding Harry's. He smiled, and all at once Harry was sprinting forward. He was standing in front of Draco not a moment later.

Draco smirked, his eyes dancing. "Hey there, Pot—"

Harry's bound up the steps and took Draco's face in his hands, crushing their lips together. He felt Draco's breath hitch as Harry pressed him back into the brick. Their mouths moved heatedly, and Harry found his hands traveling up and down the sharp planes of Draco's body, not knowing where they should take purchase. The cotton shirt he wore was thin, and Harry could plainly feel each muscle as it twitched beneath his touch. Harry pressed against Draco even harder, wanting every part of himself to be melded into that heat.

In a sudden wave of passion, Harry moved to pepper kisses along Draco's jaw, and licked at the thin film of sweat that lined his pale neck. Draco hissed, took Harry by the shoulders and pushed, effectively freeing himself.

"By Merlin, Potter," Draco said, flushed and winded, "you could at least wait until we're inside. I guess that means you got my present?" He busied himself with trying to pocket his parchment with one hand while holding Harry back with the other.

Harry pressed against the hand that held him back, unable to do anything but whisper Draco's name.

Draco smirked. "I'll take that as a yes then. I'm glad you like her. There's actually some other stuff inside if you want to—"

Draco was cut of once more as Harry descended on him, though this time he laced his fingers behind Harry's neck and pulled him closer. Harry smiled against him, running his hands over the ridges of Draco's too thin torso, and finally grabbing hold of the slender hips. His grip tightened as he moved to nip at Draco's ear, and he was repaid with a gasp very different from the kind he wanted to hear.

The comfortable blanket of heat fell as Harry flinched back. "Draco?"

Draco's face gave a strange sharp contortion before he lowered his hands to Harry's chest. "It's nothing. Your hands just hit a bruise, that's all," he said briskly, pushing Harry back farther. "Let's go inside."

Harry muttered the password absentmindedly and the door swung open. He followed Draco into the cool entryway, his mind ablaze. He practically slammed the door behind him.

"It was your father again wasn't it," Harry growled, a surge of protective instinct almost overpowering him.

Draco kept his eyes averted. "Your other things are hidden in various places around the house. I thought it might make it more entertaining…for me I mean."

Black spots danced across Harry's vision. "Is that a yes then?"

"Potter," Draco's head slumped forward, "let's not start this. Not today."

Harry started forward, stopping just behind the other boy. It reminded him of that night in the Burrow, when Draco had been nothing more than barbed wire around towering stone walls. "Draco, if he keeps hurting you like this, I'm not just going to sit around and—"

"And what?" Draco turned slowly towards him, his voice airy and distant. "You don't know anything about it."

"Then tell me." Harry raised his hand to stroke the softness of Draco's cheek. "Tell me why he does this to you. Tell me why you take it. Do you even realize how thin you've gotten?"

"Taking a stab at my looks now are we?" Draco's lips curled briefly before falling into an even deeper frown. He shied away from Harry's hand and retreated farther into the shadows of the room. "I know it may not seem like it, but he really is just trying to protect me."

"By beating you? You realize that doesn't make any sense, don't you?"

Draco scoffed. "Stop making me sound so tortured, Pott—."

"My name is Harry," Harry said sharply.

The words worked through the tense muscles in Draco's jaw. He chewed on them for a moment before he finally swallowed. "Fine. Harry. You need to leave this alone. It's none of your business."

"If he's hurting you then he's making it my business! That's part of being in a relationship."

"Are we in one of those? I don't remember agreeing to that."

"Draco, stop it!" Something in the way Harry said his name made Draco start. "All I'm asking you to do is tell me the truth. As your friend, as—whatever else I am to you, just…please."

Darkness swept across Draco's face like a storm across the sky. He looked stretched, as if he was being pulled by two different poles. "My father and I…" Draco's eyes clouded as he looked away, "we've both done things we regret. And…a long time ago, my father made a promise that he can't take back. Now he has to live with it, and consequently, so do I."

"What promise?" Harry asked. "What could possibly make him want to—"

Draco's body went abruptly stiff. "He doesn't want to," he said in sharp, scathing tones. "I'm his son."

Harry just barely resisted the urge to take Draco by the shoulders and shake him. "Exactly! You're his son! So then why? Why does he keep doing this to you?"

"Pot—Harry, if this was something I could talk about with you I would, but…I can't."

"Why not?"

Draco looked away, a dark shadow passing just beneath the surface of the twin silver pools. "I just can't."

"Draco," Harry said softly, "please."

Draco shook himself, blinking as his eyes focused back on Harry. "There's nothing to worry about. I have everything under control."

Harry cast him a doubtful look.

"Look," Draco huffed, "let's just change the subject, alright? Didn't we come in here to open your other gifts?"

"No. You're not going to worm your way out of this."

"Slytherin's do not worm."

"Then what are you doing right now?"

"Reminding you that you have a party to get back to. I very much doubt they would have stopped the birthday celebration for the Boy-Who-Lived at," he glanced down at his watch, "7PM."

Harry frowned. "That hardly matters."

"But they are expecting you back?"

Harry pressed his lips together, if only to resist bearing his teeth.

Draco gave a triumphant sneer. "Well there you go then. Now, for the presents…"

Draco started to turn, but Harry caught him by the arm. "Draco, I'm not going to let you brush this off!"

"Yes you are!" Draco looked at him straight on for the first time since they had entered the house, his eyes frozen over with determination and something else Harry didn't dare name. "And if you knew about the things I've done, you would let me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you need to learn when to leave things alone!"

Harry's grip on Draco's arm tightened. "And you need to learn that it's okay to need help!"

Something in Draco's face changed, the lines around his eyes growing thick and grim. The muscles in his arm bunched beneath Harry's palm. "Drop this, I'm warning you."

"Or what?" Harry asked defiantly.

"Or I will tell you," Draco said. "And you'll understand why you should've dropped it in the first place."

The statement threw Harry for a moment. But, really, Draco should have known him better than that—he should have known that Harry wouldn't be able to let this go if it meant there might be a chance he could figure out a way help him. "Tell me," he said softly.

Seething between clenched teeth, Draco wriggled out of Harry's grasp and went to lean against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared bleakly up at the ceiling, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. "You really don't know when to quit do you. After everything that's happened…" Draco's gaze shifted over him warily, "you should really know better by now, shouldn't you? Trusting someone like me? There's nothing good that can come of it. You should've trusted your instincts that day that I came to you on the train."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

Draco didn't react beyond a slight twitch in his jaw. "I should think it's obvious."

"It's not."

Sighing, Draco raised his arm towards Harry. "Come here, will you?"

Harry did, moving carefully as he always found himself doing around Draco when he was like this.

Draco looked at him with piercing grey eyes, and took Harry by the hips and pulled him close. Harry stared straight back at him, refusing to think, refusing to breathe. Draco's hands traveled up his torso, his fingers tracing thin lines that had Harry's skin prickling beneath his shirt. But Draco's gaze was unfaltering, and penetrated him like a nail through wood.

Gracefully, like the movement of a feather on air, Draco brought his hand up to rest in the hollow of Harry's neck. Harry resisted the shiver that pricked at his spine as the other boy held him. Then Draco turned his head as if he meant to kiss him, and Harry's heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

"Can I ask you a question?" Draco breathed against him.

Harry's hands tensed awkwardly at his sides. "Of course. What?"

"If you loved someone…would you do anything to save them? Even if it meant hurting you? Even it meant hurting them too?"

"Draco, you can't justify what your father is doing to you by saying—"

"Just listen to me." Draco pressed his forehead to Harry's. "If it came down to it….and Ginny, or Weasley, or Granger, or that oaf Hagrid—any of them, all of them—if they were in danger, would you do something—something terrible—just to save their lives? Would their lives matter more than yours? Would their lives matter more than someone else's?"

Harry tried to focus on Draco's expression, but his face was much too close and Harry's eyes blurred in strain. His arms itched to move, to take Draco in his arms, but for some reason he couldn't move. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Because I want to know."

Harry huffed, annoyance prickling through his veins. He wasn't in the mood to maneuver through one of Draco's word mazes. "Fine, yes, I think I would. They're the most important people in the world to me. I would do anything for them. Just like I would do anything for you."

Draco let out a ragged sigh that trembled heat against Harry's cheek. "Then you are more like my father than you think."

"If you think he's hurting you to save you from something—Draco, that doesn't make—"

"I'm not like that, you know," Draco interrupted, "like you or like him I mean. I would never do something like that. I'm not selfless the way you are. I want things too much, and I don't care what I have to do to get them. I don't care who gets hurt along the way." He looked at the space just above Harry's brows—at the center of his forehead where the lightning-shaped scar still marred his skin. "I just wish that you didn't make being brave look so easy. I wish I didn't feel so pathetic when I stand next to you."

"I—" Harry floundered, grasping for words. "I don't make being brave look easy."

"Well of course you'd say that. It would kind of defy the point if you were an arrogant arse about it."

"Don't joke." Harry finally found the strength to move, his hands going to Draco's hips and gripping them tight. "Being brave definitely isn't easy, and you're definitely not pathetic. But you can't keep dodging around the truth and expect me to understand what you're trying to say." Harry's fingers tightened, his thumbs digging into bone. "Just tell me what's going on."

Across the room, Harry heard something glass crack. "My father is dying." Draco's words were quick and hot.

In the span of an instant, Harry felt all of the space in his chest cave in. He dragged in a breath, his lungs pressing painfully against his ribs. "Dying? Your father is…dying?"

Draco's hands fell to his sides. "Did I stutter?"

"No, but, how could he be dying? Has your mother called a mediwizard or—?" Harry broke off, unsure of what to say. If he had heard the news from anybody else, a small part of him knew that it would not have been wholly unwelcome. But hearing it from Draco was a completely different matter. No matter what kind of a man Lucius was, he was still Draco's father, and though the thought was incomprehensible to Harry, there was no man Draco held in higher esteem. Even if he hadn't felt that way…to lose a father…Harry would never wish that sort of pain on anyone.

"We have. No one can help. It's only a matter of time now really. That's why the Ministry hasn't sent him back to Azkaban. They know how little time he has left and…well, even Shacklebolt voted in favor of letting him stay home."

The memory of his most recent dream came upon him unbidden—the image of Lucius balancing on the crux of his cane, his face pale and drawn with deep lines. But Harry still couldn't fathom it. Lucius, personality flaws aside, was a strong man. Strong men didn't just drop dead for no reason.

Harry floundered. "How long does he have? What does he have? Surely St. Mungo's could—"

"They can't." Draco leaned back to look at him. His face had gone hard and there was something unmistakably cold in the reflection of his eyes. "One does not simply walk into St. Mungo's and ask to have an Unbreakable Vow removed."

The muscles in Harry's legs threatened to give under the weight that Draco had just put on him. "An Unbreakable Vow?"

"Surely you've heard of it," Draco said, his tone a mixture of roiling condecension. "If not, I think the name is explanation enough."

"But I thought that if you broke an Unbreakable Vow that…I don't know, that it was just over. You make it sound like this is something that's happened slowly."

Draco shrugged tightly. "It depends on the parameters and depth of the vow. They're actually much stronger curses than people give them credit for."

Harry took a deep breath and held it, his mind a whirling vortex. He didn't know what to say besides, "There's really nothing anyone can do?"

"I've looked," Draco said grimly. "Believe me I've looked. There's nothing."

This was the aspect of being a savior that Harry had never been able to handle: dealing with problems that had no answer. It didn't make sense to him that there were problems that couldn't be fixed—that there were questions with no answers. Harry's throat flexed, straining against his vocal cords. "What about the Elder Wand?" He saw Draco's eyes flicker in the darkness like the strike of a match. "It worked for me…it could work for him too."

Draco looked at him, still as stone. Several muscles in his jaw worked, twisting his lips into a thin grimace. "You would…be willing to use the wand on my father?"

"Yes."

"My father? Lucius Malfoy? The man who went to Azkaban for trying to kill you?"

"For you," Harry replied without hesitation. "For you I would do it—you know that."

There was a pronounced beat of silence. "I'm not asking you to do that for me. That's not what this is."

"I know."

Draco looked uneasy with Harry's answer. He seemed to retreat back into himself for a long moment, his mind working behind the calm veil.

"I don't understand your hesitation," Harry said, speaking his thoughts aloud. "If there's even a chance it could save your father—"

"There's also a chance it could kill him even faster." Draco's tone was becoming sharper with his temper. He looked like a volcano ready to erupt—an exterior of hard stone with a boiling center just waiting to be jolted into an explosion. "Like I said, you can't just break an Unbreakable Vow."

"Draco…"

With a rattling breath, Draco's chest bowed out and Harry felt himself go tense. It was the same look Draco always got right before he punched him. But instead Draco just sighed and ran a weary hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I wasn't going to tell you at all, but…well, you just had to go and be a stubborn git about it didn't you." His lips quirked. "I'll think about what you said, about the wand I mean. I…I don't want you to think that I don't understand that an offer like that isn't easy for you to make. I just need to think it through is all."

Harry nodded and bit his lip, tasting the residue of Draco's kiss. He stepped back, giving them both some space, which Draco looked grateful for. "How are you handling it?"

"Is this your version of not talking about it? If so, you may want to reassess."

"I just want to make sure you're okay," Harry stressed.

Draco gave a haughty snort of laughter. "Please, Harry, I'm not made of glass. I won't break."

Harry only nodded, desperately wishing he could believe those words despite the doubt that had lodged itself in his throat. He wondered how long Draco had known—how long he'd kept it bottled up and left to expire. Something about it made Harry worry. If Draco had just found out, then that was one thing, but if he'd known for a while…Harry's lips pursed. That was a huge secret to hide for any length of time without a tell. For Harry not to have at least suspected something was off with Draco felt…frightening. Surely he would have seen something if Draco had known. Surely…

With a soft whisper of fabric, Draco stepped forward. His chin tilted and suddenly there was a soft, warm pressure against Harry's lips. And then it was gone, leaving Harry feeling fuzzy and lightheaded.

"You really should be getting back now," Draco whispered against him.

Harry's mouth quirked into a frown. "But…" There was an odd, nervous bubbling in his chest. He had so many emotions swirling around in his head he wasn't sure which he should be feeling. But Draco's presence felt warm and soft in front of him, and he couldn't help but ask, "Will you stay here? Will you stay with me tonight?"

With a flash of surprise Draco pushed their bodies apart, but Harry's hold didn't let him move far.

Draco looked at him, his slate grey eyes deceptively blank. "With you? You say that like—"

Taking a deep breath, Harry set his stance firmly. There was no need to be embarrassed by this, and there was no need to doubt. He knew Draco. He did. He knew him as well as he knew this feeling that had been growing inside him throughout the summer. "I don't want you in another room…in another bed."

Something in Draco's expression changed then. His face went pale and his mouth pressed into a thin line. "Harry," he gave a nervous laugh, "I don't think you know what you're asking. We can't just—"

"I do know what I'm asking," Harry rebutted, his voice hard. "I've never wanted anything in my life like I want you. Draco, I think I might be in lo—"

"Don't say it!" Draco's eyes had gone wide and bright. "Don't say it…you're not…so don't say it." More forcefully this time, Draco pulled himself out of Harry's grasp and with an odd sigh he straightened his shirt. Harry merely stared at him, frowning and feeling horribly confused.

Draco cleared his throat to cover up the silence. "You should go."

"I don't want to leave," Harry replied meekly, unable to fathom Draco's response. Why didn't he want him to say it?

"Do you enjoy upsetting me?" Draco seethed. "Is that what this is about?"

The words were like a swift blow to the gut. Harry nearly stumbled back from the force of them. "How in the world is me wanting to spend time with you upsetting?"

"Because I don't need you feeling sorry for me!"

Harry nearly flinched. "Sorry for you? Draco, that's not what this is."

Grimacing, Draco turned away from him and walked through the large archway into the drawing room. Harry followed him. There was a low fire burning in the fireplace, lighting the dark room with a soft yellow glow. It was one of the rooms that Harry still avoided entering because he could still see the image of Sirius there, lounging in his armchair with a glass of whiskey and a large smile that Harry had always known was meant more for his father than for him.

What if he's putting things in your head just like Voldemort did—things that aren't real? You remember how that turned out, don't you?

Harry pushed Ron's words away, feeling faintly ill.

Draco leaned heavily against Sirius' chair, his hands gripping the arched back, his head bowed and his shoulders rigid. The light from the fire reflected bleakly off of his silhouette, casting his features in shadow. He visibly reacted when Harry entered the room, his fingers digging into the fabric of the chair and every joint in his body locking, as if he was a wall bracing himself against the current of Harry's presence. Harry felt his feet freeze beneath him.

"You know," Draco said softly, his voice barely audible above the steady crackling of the fire, "back in school, I never believed what everyone else said about you. They called you just and brave and good, and they ate up every little thing you did like it was a gift sent from heaven. But after I met you, I refused to believe it. Because how in the world could that person—the person that I had admired my whole adolescent life—not want to be my friend? How could he say the things you said to me? Do the things you did? I was so sure that everyone else had it all wrong, and that I was the only one who could see it…"

For some reason, Harry didn't dare breathe. The stillness around him had grown fragile, waiting on the precipice of shattering.

"You have no idea how hard it's been for me to convince myself that I was actually wrong about you," Draco continued. "And I think a part of me is still holding out. I think that in a way I still want you to be the prat I fought with for all those years. Because…because if you're not…"

Harry waited, silent and still as stone.

"If you're not, then I have no idea what I'll do." Sighing deeply, Draco shook his head and turned his gaze to the fire. A dark shadow creased his features, drawing hard lines across his face. After a moment he turned back towards Harry. "Is this really what you want?"

"Of course it is." It was as if every muscle in his body that he'd kept still surged at the same time. In the next instant he was standing in front of Draco, hands clenched into fists against his sides to keep them from reaching out. "Draco, if I could only make you understand what this summer has meant to me…"

Draco stared at him, his eyes like molten silver in the firelight. "It's meant a lot to me too. More than you know."

"Then," Harry rolled his lip under his teeth, "doesn't it sound like we're on the same page here?"

Draco let out a shake breath and looked away once more. "I'm not sure."

Something fluttered fiercely in Harry's chest as he reached for Draco's hand. Draco flinched as their fingers touched, his eyes snapping back to Harry's but allowed him to take it nevertheless. "I am."

Their fingers threaded together, warm and dry. Harry had never seen Draco look more alarmed. It was far from the most intimate experience the two of them had shared, but somehow Draco had never looked more exposed.

"Stay here tonight," Harry repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

"You're out of your mind, do you know that?"

"Is that a deal breaker for you?"

Draco smirked. "Not in the slightest."

"Then stay," Harry said.

A muscle slid in Draco's jaw and his fingers tightened against Harry's. He turned Harry's hand over in his own, staring down at it even as heat prickled along Harry's skin. After a moment he began tracing the lines of Harry's palm, his brows furrowing. "Fine."

Harry's heart skipped. "Fine?"

Draco couldn't quite seem to convince his lips not to smile. "Yes. I'll be here when you get back alright?"

"You will?"

"I said I would you incessant psychopath!"Draco laughed. "Now go on and get out of here before I change my mind."