Disclaimer: All recognizable deliciousness belongs to the lovely JKR.. Everything else I embellished :)

Harry didn't say anything as he felt the space next to him on the couch depress. He simply closed the book he was reading and set it aside before wrapping one arm around Hermione as they both snuggled down, basking in the warmth of the Common Room fire.

Harry constructed privacy wards that allowed sound to filter in but none to filter out with a practiced flick of his wrist. Then he settled his cheek on Hermione's bushy haired head and simply waited. She was one of the few people he was comfortable hugging for prolonged periods of time and she knew it. Probably the only reason Ron didn't kick up a fuss and she indulged him.

Harry grinned a little. That plus the fact he was rather rampantly gay.

Hermione poked him with a gentle finger in his ribs. He could hear the smile in her voice. "You love him? Don't you think that's just a bit sudden?"

Harry snorted softly. "Did you see the look on Ron's face? It was priceless!"

Hermione chuckled but poked him again. "Harry."

Harry sighed and moved back a little so they could look at each other as they talked. "It just kind of occurred to me when we were in the library working on our essay... and I wanted to tell him." His lips thinned a little as he pressed them together. "So many people died without my being able to tell them I loved them..." He murmured softly. He glanced down and met 'Mione's sympathetic gaze.

"I'm sure they knew, Harry. Whether you told them or not."

Harry shook his head a little. "I don't want there to be any doubt whatsoever with all of the people who mean something to me 'Mione. Life's too short and too unpredictable. I want to tell people in so many words when they mean something to me." He glanced down at Hermione again and his eyes softened and glowed as a smile appeared to quirk his lips suddenly. "I love you too 'Mione. I hope you know that."

"Oh Harry." Hermione squeezed his sides a little as she gave him a half hug. "Of course I know that." Then she smiled. "And I love you."

Harry blushed a little, then winked at her. "Now 'Mione! What would Ronald say?"

It was Hermione's turn to blush. She poked Harry in the ribs again, harder this time.

Harry just smirked and batted her hand away.

"So are you ready to tell me what you were up to this afternoon then?"

"I had a fight with Malfoy."

Hermione sighed. "Harry..."

"No 'Mione. This was different. He fought back and everything. You saw how messed up my shoulder was when you fixed it."

"I worry about you, Harry."

Harry smiled and gave her a gentle squeeze. "I know. You wouldn't be 'Mione if you didn't fret." She mock glared, but Harry just smiled some more. "But 'Mione, don't you see? I have this under control. This is exactly what I wanted. I mean, I like Malfoy and all..." Harry blushed and stammered a little. "I mean I like the way he looks just fine..."

Hermione gave an inelegant snort. "I just bet you do."

Harry stuck his tongue out her. "Yes I do. But 'Mione, I didn't want to start anything with that zombie that he's been around us all this time. I mean, come on ... it was unnatural. I couldn't possibly start anything until he was more himself. It wouldn't be the same."

Hermione sighed. "And I've told you before Harry. There has to be a better way to pull him out of his funk than just fighting with him. Look at the damage you're doing – to yourself and to him."

Harry paused as guilt tried to rise, then he shrugged it off. He hadn't been able to help his reactions around Malfoy for a long time now, and he'd finally decided he might as well give in rather than fight the urges. "But it's working 'Mione! He fought back, and for those few minutes he was more the Malfoy I've always known than I've seen all year."

Hermione hesitated. "Harry... Have you considered that maybe it might be a good thing that he's changed from what he used to be like before? I mean, even you have to admit that he acted like a snot-nosed arse during the majority of his tenure at Hogwarts."

Harry watched the fire as he chewed on this for a bit. "Well, I have to admit that it's nice not having to watch him being a bastard to everyone. But 'Mione, there's a difference between growing up and not being able to recognize yourself in the mirror, and I feel like what's happened with Malfoy is too much of the latter."

He should know. He'd gone through a phase right after the war where as many celebrations as funerals were happening. He'd felt like he was lost and might never have come back to himself if it hadn't been for the fact that his friends wouldn't abandon him – not even to himself. The least he could do was return the favor for someone who looked like they could use the extra push.

Hermione sighed again. "But still, Harry... Fighting? It's not right..."

Harry gave her shoulders a squeeze to end the argument and smiled a little. Hermione would never be comfortable with any approximation to violence, no matter what the justification. "It'll be fine. You'll see."

Hermione snuggled into his side and they settled down to examine the different groupings of students that were spread all around in silence again.

Harry smiled as he watched Ron trying to get some of the boys to abandon their Exploding Snap to play chess with him. He wasn't likely to have much success considering the number of times he'd trounced all of the players currently trying to ignore the bribes of Honeydukes chocolates.

"You've been neglecting your boyfriend, you know." Harry kept his voice light. With as stressed as 'Mione was, he didn't want to add to it, but he thought it was his duty as best mate to at least make her aware of the situation.

Hermione bit her lip. "I know." She sounded miserable regardless of how gentle Harry had tried to make his voice. "It's just with the Newts, and head girl duties, and everything else..."

"You know you don't have to do all this on your own right?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and Harry grinned a little. "Okay, so the head girl duties aren't likely to be something you can fob off, and I don't think anyone is likely to make color-coordinated schedules for Newt studies if you don't ..." He chuckled as Hermione poked his ribs again. "But the rest of it 'Mione... You don't have to do it alone." His smiled turned soft as he flicked his gaze to Ron and back. "He's been looking out for me too you know. In his own way, of course. But he made it just as clear that he didn't think it was healthy to go around picking fights with Malfoy all the time."

Hermione blinked. "He did?"

Harry smiled and nodded as Hermione lapsed into silence, her eyes alert as they watched Ron.

"Well. This is cozy."

Harry looked up and cancelled the privacy wards with another practiced flick of his wand.

Blaise smirked at the picture he and 'Mione made. "Does Weasley know you're cheating on him, Granger?"

Hermione huffed and stood, planting a kiss on Harry's cheek and straightening her skirt. "If you'll excuse me gentlemen, I have a boyfriend I've been neglecting."

Harry and Blaise both chuckled as they watched her march across the room and drag Ron up the dorm stairs, chessboard, chocolates and all.

Blaise flopped down onto the couch next to Harry, albeit not as close as Hermione'd been earlier. "What, Potter? No declarations of love for me today?"

"Sod off, Blaise." He was smiling as he said it though, reaching for the book he'd put aside earlier. "You get the references for the shield?"

Blaise nodded and dug into his book bag for the books he'd just checked out of the school library. "I found an earlier version. It's easier to cast and drains less energy."

"Why would they have a newer version?"

"Doesn't cover as much ground." Blaise grimaced. "Not nearly as much ground."

Harry grinned and flipped open his own reference, settling down to start comparing notes.

Draco paused in jotting notes and flexed his fingers, trying to work out the cramps from holding a quill precisely in the same position for hours on end. His hand writing was close enough to calligraphy that he'd always been praised for his script. The cost, of course, was making that much extra effort when writing. And he refused to compromise even though what he'd been writing out for the past couple of hours were the rough notes from various source materials for a Potions practical that the professor had hinted would be crucial for their Newts.

He took a habitual scan of the Common Room preparing to go back to work, and then froze. Potter was sitting exactly where he had been a half hour ago when Draco had last looked up from his work. The only difference was that Granger was nowhere to be found. Instead Blaise was seated on the same couch as him, each boy holding his wand aloft, a book open between them on the couch. Draco's breath caught a little at the striking picture they made.

Draco had always known that Blaise was good looking. He had model good looks, with all that bronzed skin, a strong jaw and dark hair. Now, sitting across from Potter, facing each other, he would have thought Potter would come out looking the worse off by comparison – which just went to show what he knew. In a strange way the two looked like flip sides of the same coin.

Dark hair that could have nearly been the exact same except that Blaise's was tamed, and Potter's a wild mass. Strong brows, furrowed in concentration. Long lashes shading eyes alight with curiosity, Blaise's dark orbs to Potter's deep emerald ones. Prominent cheek bones and straight noses leading to full lips, quirked in half smiles as they worked together. Strong chins, Blaise's a little more square, even though Potter's had a stronger tilt indicating that perhaps he'd be the more stubborn of the two. Smooth, tanned skin sweeping along taut necks, disappearing into identical white uniform shirts.

And just like that Draco was struck by the unwelcome thought that Potter was damn good looking. In fact, had he not been Potter, he might even have been one of those specimens that he regularly drooled over with Pansy.

Why hadn't he seen it before?

Speak of the devil... Pans flopped down onto the sofa next to his, bringing with her a fresh cloud of cosmetics and perfumes that she had no doubt just refreshed. Goyle carefully lowered her book bag next to Draco's before hefting his own more securely onto his shoulder.

Pansy looked up at him when he didn't take a seat. "Aren't you staying, Greg?"

Goyle shrugged. "I thought maybe I'd go to the library. Just for a bit."

Draco and Pansy nodded at him before he turned around to walk towards the entrance. They would never scoff at Goyle's attempts to improve in his school work. Though he regularly ignored disparaging remarks from the rest of the school, they would cut to the quick if hinted at by those he considered friends. These were the people he chose to be completely himself with and thus knowingly put the weapons to hurt him within their easy reach.

Draco frowned as he watched Goyle detour to the pair on the couch on his way out. Potter looked up and blinked as if he'd just realized there were people around him. "Shit! What time is it?" Then he saw Goyle standing beside him and there was that smile lighting up his face again.

Pansy hummed softly. "I've always thought Slytherin green a bit much for your skin tone, Draco darling."

Draco glanced at his outfit and raised a brow at her. "What are you muttering about, Pans?"

Pansy smirked and mockingly raised a brow in return, tilting her head in the direction of the trio from where soft laughter floated towards them. "Certainly not your wardrobe."

Draco scowled. "Again with the farfetched theories, Pans?"

Pansy dropped the smirk and eyed him seriously. "Is it really?"

Draco scowl deepened. "Pans-"

She held up a hand. "Just think about it. Would it really be so bad if something were to happen between you and Potter?"

Draco sneaked another glance to where the Gryffindor was waving his arms expressively as he explained something to Goyle. When he looked back at Pansy, the smirk had returned.

"At the very least, you'd have beautiful babies."

Draco groaned and ducked his head, electing to go back to his note taking rather than deal with Pansy in her current mood. He couldn't help sneaking glances at Potter and Blaise though as Goyle left for the library and they returned to whatever they had been doing, their heads bent together.

What would it be like, to have all that intent attention centered on him? To be the focus of that rather intense gaze? He didn't know what had happened to Potter in the year he had spent wandering before he defeated the Dark Lord, except for briefly when their paths had crossed, but whatever it was, it had added a weight to his eyes that made it hard to meet his gaze for too long without feeling like he would be sucked into it. He'd had plenty of chances to experience that particular sensation since Potter had made a game of baiting him since they'd returned to Hogwarts. What would it be like to just let himself drown in that gaze rather than turn away when he felt on the verge of being snared?

He started a little when the subject of his contemplation looked up and caught him staring. He hadn't even realized that he'd stopped working. Draco scowled and returned his eyes to the parchment laid out in front of him, giving himself a mental shake. This was Potter he was talking about for Merlin's sake. There was no way in hell that he should even be contemplating this particular train of thought. Besides, the fucker hated his guts and lived to make him miserable. Just him. Not Slytherins. Case in point, Blaise. Not ex-Death Eaters. Case in point, Goyle, who he loved apparently. Not blokes. Case in point, any male currently residing in Hogwarts Castle, with the notable exception of him. Not even Malfoys. Case in point, his mother, who Potter had treated with great courtesy when they'd crossed paths during the trials. Truth be told, Draco hadn't thought Potter had it in him to have such pretty manners. And there he was, proven wrong yet again.

As he felt his gaze straying from the Potions texts again, he pushed aside his thoughts hastily, his gut giving a twinge. The twinge was a familiar one this year, and though Draco fastidiously refused to put a name to the emotion, it was awfully close to hurt at his treatment at the hands of one particular Gryffindor who appeared to have forgiven everyone but him.

The next time he was cornered by Potter, it was a week later. He'd been avoiding the brunette all week, careful to make sure he wouldn't be around whenever he was likely to be. With the weekend approaching and Friday classes having let out a couple of hours ago, he'd grown complacent at the reprieve the next couple of days offered. He'd been planning on holing up in the Eighth Year dorms and not venturing forth from there, no matter the temptation. That was the one place where Potter never approached him – had never so much as sneered in his direction in fact.

As he understood it from Pansy – who had apparently been having a nice old gossiping session with Granger of all people – it had something to do with the fact that the dorms were meant to be their 'home' while at Hogwarts and Potter refused, on principle, to chase him from the one place that was meant to be his bolt hole while here.

Whatever the reason, Draco was grateful for the ability to be able to relax without having to worry about capricious Gryffindors bursting into his room at inopportune moments and cornering him. Admittedly he'd worried about that very thing in the beginning, and confessed his fears to Pansy – as he confessed almost all his thoughts. She'd frowned in thought for a bit before heading off to hunt down Granger bizarrely enough. But she'd gotten the reassurances that he'd been looking for. He hadn't realized how tense he had actually been until that conversation, when what had felt like a permanent knot between his shoulders loosened.

Of course, he should have remembered that just because apparently the dorms were off limits, the rest of the school was fair game.

"Going somewhere, Malfoy?"

Draco froze, then turned around, resisting the urge to scowl at the Gryffindor. Calm. He must remain calm, dropping his practiced mask into place, allowing no emotions to escape.

Potter's frown only deepened though, when he caught sight of the expressionless mask Draco presented him with. And suddenly Draco was right there, in the middle of the last time he'd had a chance to encounter Potter all by himself, and Potter was hissing in his face. "This... Fight back, Malfoy." Draco nearly gasped as the realization hit. It was the lack of reaction from him that got Potter all riled up to the point of violence every time.

Experimentally, he allowed the scowl he had been sequestering to cross his face as he gazed at Potter. His brow cleared immediately, and he even smiled a little. Draco shook his head, bewildered.

"Well, Malfoy?" Potter now had a pleased smile on his face, as if this was all part of some great plan of his concoction. "You never answered my question?"

Draco scowled freely and fiercely at Potter suddenly, and felt a thrill rush through him. Though Potter couldn't have known, he had given him a gift of immeasurable value. He was free to react however he chose. The blank, polite mask wasn't required of him. In fact, if he was reading Potter's body language accurately – and he had been taught to recognize such things from a very young age – then it was really only the expressionless mask that Potter found loathsome.

Draco strangled hope before it could take root in his chest. Just because Potter only appeared to hate the expressionless mask that Draco detested donning with a passion, didn't mean that he was any fonder of what lay beneath it. For the moment he would revel in the ability to freely air his emotions. He hated his own façade with a passion, but it was a barrier he had found he needed more and more everyday as he dealt with people who came to him with his father's reputation, and the range swung all the way from psychopathic adoration to unadulterated hatred.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Just to talk."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Talk? About what exactly?"

Potter's lips quirked. "Anything. Quidditch. The weather. Art. Music. Poetry. Bathilda's awful, awful haircut. You pick."

In spite of himself, Draco's lips twitched. He had had his exposition on the subject of one Bathilda Merrweather, Seventh Year, Ravenclaw, and her rather unfortunate choice of haircut from Pansy yesterday. Apparently crew cuts were not meant for cubby girls.

Draco shook his in a small abortive shake. "So, what? You want to just stand here and chat? In case you hadn't noticed, Potter, neither of us is a fishwife with nothing better to do."

Potter smirked and his eyes sparkled. "Oh I noticed."

Unaccountably Draco found himself fighting a blush. He whirled around, ready to make good his escape. "Shut up, Potter."

As it so happened, the Gryffindor had other ideas. As soon as he took the first step, he felt a firm hand at his elbow. Draco didn't let himself think about it. He knew if he allowed himself even an instant of second thought, he would back off. And he didn't want to back off. All of the frustration that his imperturbable mask had hidden all year wanted desperate release. And Potter had unaccountably volunteered himself by giving Draco permission to express his emotions freely.

Draco swung around, his fist flying already, all of the power of his shoulders behind the swing when it connected with Potter's jaw. There was a popping sound, like a high pressure container suddenly releasing, and Draco stood staring at Potter as he staggered and blinked repeatedly, trying to get his bearings.

Once he was steady on his feet, Potter gingerly reached up to feel his jaw. It appeared to be locked in place – in all likelihood, Draco had broken it.

Then Potter dropped his hand and looked up directly at Draco, his eyes glowing. His lips stretched into a grin, the effect rather grotesque since his jaw wasn't completely aligned properly. "Oh it is on son. It's on like Donkey Kong!"

Draco raised one eyebrow at that obscure reference and then was forced to dismiss all thought as Potter stepped forwards, ready to take his revenge.

Draco clutched his ribs as he bent at the knees, forcibly trying to drag oxygen into his body. Potter was standing a couple of feet away, leaning against the wall, breathing harshly and spitting out blood.

"So. How about that weather huh?"

Draco lifted his head to stare at Potter. He was dribbling blood even after having spat out a large amount. He was pretty sure it was because Draco'd broken his jaw. His breathing was staccato and sounded labored, as if he had to consciously remember to breath. He was standing as if the wall was the only thing holding him up. And he wanted to know about the weather?

"Fucked in the head."

Potter made a gurgling sound and opened his mouth in that bloody approximation of a grin again. "Come on Malfoy. Admittedly it's been cold lately, but it's not as bad all that."

"You. Potter. You're fucked in the head."

Potter made that gurgling sound again, then looked down at himself. "I need to get cleaned up before I go to Madam Pomfrey."

"Pomfrey? Can't Granger fix whatever?"

Potter grimaced as he shifted his jaw a little, then shook his head carefully. "Most of this, yeah. But jaw injuries are apparently one of those things that require an actual healer's touch."

Draco raised an eyebrow and Potter wuffed a little. "Trust me. I've spent enough time in the Hospital Wing to know what can and can't be fixed without Madam Pomfrey's tender mercies."

He pushed away from the wall and took two steps when his knees buckled. Before Draco quite knew what he was doing he'd taken a step forward and caught Potter under the arms before he could hit the floor. Suddenly finding himself with an armful of Potter, Draco didn't know what to do except stare as Potter brought one hand up to his head and tried to shake it without disturbing his jaw at the same time. That he even thought that was possible showed just how fucked up he was. Blinking the haze from his eyes he looked up at Draco and finally seemed to realize just who was holding him up. His free hand immediately went to Draco's shoulder as he tried to get his feet under him.

"Whoa. I think I might have a touch of concussion there." He straightened on the third try, relieving some of the weight from Draco's arms. Draco didn't let go. Just in case. "Quite the punch you pack there Malfoy."

In spite of himself Draco found himself smiling. "You're just a pansy, Potter."

He gurgled again. "I wouldn't let Pansy hear you say that if I were you."

Draco tried to choke off his laughter but a strangled chuckle escaped. Potter blinked at him, that slightly glazed look in his eyes again. "Right. Pomfrey."

That had Potter strengthening his hold on Draco's shoulder and straightening again. "Nope. Have to clean up first. If I get another detention 'Mione'll just kill me off herself."

"Potter, you need help..."

"You want to help Malfoy, get me to the prefect's bathroom around the corner."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? And how would you get in?"

Potter grimace approximating a smile turned smug. "Best friends with the head girl, remember?"

Draco sighed and shifted one of his arms around Potter, pulling the arm clutching his shoulder around to anchor him. "Stickler for the rules head girl actually gave you the password?"

Potter gurgled. "There might have been some light bribery slash blackmail involved."

Draco huffed. "Right. The head girl's playing fast and loose with the rules. The Gryffindor Golden Boy's going around bribing and blackmailing people. What's next? Longbottom's secretly a Potions genius?"

"Weeeell..."

Draco carefully lowered Potter to the ledge next to humongous bath tub in the prefect's bathroom. His breathing was labored and he gave a harsh gasp now and then. Draco wouldn't say he was worried exactly... but still. Once they'd stopped talking so Potter could concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, he hadn't liked the sound of the rattling that was serving Potter for breathing at the moment.

"Thanks Malfoy," Potter blinked up at him. "You don't have to hang around now. I can manage."

Draco scoffed. "Yeah right. I'm not going anywhere. With my luck the last thing I need is the Chosen One croaking on my watch."

Potter gurgled then grimaced. "Fine. But this is going to take some time. I'm not really at my best at the moment."

"Whatever, Potter. Just don't drown while you're in there. I'll be next door in one of the stalls. You're not the only one who looks like a casualty of war you know."

The very air in the room seemed to freeze as the words caught up with Draco. 'Fuck.' He turned to meet Potter's eyes, almost afraid of what he would find there.

Potter's face had been completely wiped of expression. Draco resisted the urge to squirm as Potter gazed at him. Then his eyes softened in a way he'd never seen before. Or at least, he'd never seen that look in Potter's eyes directed at himself.

He didn't smile but his voice was light when he spoke. "No promises Malfoy. If you hearing screaming and carrying on just assume that's me kicking the bucket."

Draco hesitated, then just nodded and spun on one heel, eager to get out of there and clean up himself. The sooner he got Potter to the Infirmary the sooner he could have Pansy take a look at his ribs. They were a dull throbbing in his side with the occasional shooting pain, and supporting most of Potter's weight hadn't helped any.

Harry let out a rattling sigh as he watched Malfoy leave the room. Right. Now to get to the no doubt perilous task of undressing. It almost didn't seem worth it when he knew he would have to get dressed again in a little bit.

He opened some of the taps, not really caring what went in the tub as long it was soapy and the water hot. He was just grateful they were within reaching distance. He didn't think he was in any condition to try getting up yet. It was really that first hit he'd taken in the face that had made his brain slosh. Most of his other injuries were superficial and nothing he couldn't handle. But he'd been completely unprepared for that particular blow and ended up taking the full impact of it on his jaw instead of rolling with the blow in order to minimize the damage as he'd learned at the Dudley School of Hard Knocks. He suspected the cracked jaw had given him a concussion. It was painful as all fuck, making it hard to concentrate on anything when all he really wanted to do was curl up on his side and whimper. Not to mention it wouldn't stop bleeding and the inability to align the jaw back to its proper place was making it hard to breathe or swallow.

Harry turned the taps off once he figured the tub was full enough to sit in without drowning and wriggled out of his trousers and pants. Then taking as deep a breath as he could in his current condition, he breathed out slowly as he gingerly pulled his t-shirt over his head, resisting the urge to clench his teeth against the pain. If his jaw hurt like a bitch now, he didn't want to imagine the world of hurt that clenching it would lead to.

Harry sighed as he slid slowly into the hot water. Perfect.

As he sat soaking up the heat, he rotated his bad shoulder, trying to assess the damage. With the shooting pain in his jaw distracting him he couldn't really tell if he'd wrenched it again, but it felt a little stiff and he figured a dose of Hermione's special deep tissue bruise salve couldn't hurt.

"Winky!"

"You called Winky, Master Harry?"

"Yes, Winky. There're just a couple of things I need you to do for me if you have the time now?"

"Anything for Master Harry, sir."

"Right. Umm... there's some clothes there that are pretty much ruined I reckon. See if you can't do something with them please? Also, I'd like a clean set of clothes. And while you're there, could you get my bruise salve and a pain relieving potion as well please? They'll be in my side table drawer in the dorms. Oh, and an ice pack, if you can find one."

"Yes, Master Harry, sir. Winky will get things for you. Winky will be quick." She collected his dirty clothes and popped out.

Harry sighed as he soaped and rinsed his hair, already feeling better as he washed away some of the blood and grime. He'd bound Winky to him after the war despite Hermione's extreme displeasure. She'd been a mess and he thought it would've made Dobby happy to know that she was taken care of now. Even 'Mione'd had to admit that there had been a huge improvement in the house-elf. She'd stopped drinking, kept clean and tidy and generally did whatever odd jobs here at Hogwarts that she was meant to have been doing to begin with. The only difference was that she was personally bound to Harry rather than the school and had made him promise never to disgrace her with mention of payment. And if Harry occasionally used her for personal errands... well, it seemed to make Winky happy, and what Hermione didn't know couldn't hurt Harry.

"Thanks Winky," Harry murmured as she popped in with his things with a small bow.

Right. Now to get to the painful task of dragging himself out of the tub and getting dressed again. First things first. He uncorked the Pain Relieving Potion and downed as much as he could swallow awkwardly, washing the rest away where it'd sloshed onto his chest.

Draco hovered outside the infirmary, surreptitiously peeking inside to determine what the Mediwitch was saying in between scolding Potter. He'd been impressed when he'd emerged from his own shower. He'd taken extra long over his hair to give Potter as much time as possible, but he'd still been unprepared for the transformation.

Potter had been sitting where he'd last seen him, but he wouldn't have believed he'd been in a fight if Draco hadn't been the one to mess him up. He'd found clean clothes somewhere, his hair was damp and appeared tame for once, all of the abrasions and bruises from earlier had disappeared, and even the swelling in his jaw had lessened – probably because of the ice pack he was holding to it as he waited.

He'd produced a pot of premium bruise salve and offered it to Draco without a word. There was no label on the salve but Draco wasn't a Potions adept for nothing. He'd been able to tell the salve was high grade quality just from the smell, color and texture of the thing. Even more impressive, it appeared to have a mild pain reliever mixed right in. Potter had sat patiently icing his jaw and wincing while Draco quickly took care of all of his visible bruises. He had then firmly refused anything more than a hand on his elbow to keep him from stumbling as they made their way to the Infirmary. Though he appeared to be doing much better, he hadn't said a word the whole way there. That, more than anything else, was disconcerting Draco. A brassy, whiny, whinging Potter was normal. A strangely quiet Potter with exhaustion and pain lines around his mouth and eyes was making Draco twitchy.

It was the reason he was lurking outside the Infirmary now even though Potter had refused any more assistance once they'd reached the entrance to the Mediwitch's lair and insisted that it would be better for all concerned if he went in by himself. Draco grinned as that same whinging, whiny voice rose in volume from inside the Infirmary.

"Stay the night? But Madam Pomfrey I'm all healed! And-"

"You are not healed!" Pomfrey interrupted firmly. "You of all people should know that magic can only do so much, Harry. Magic can vastly speed up the healing process, but it can't replace good honest rest. You broke your jaw and have a mild concussion. You must rest if you don't want to exacerbate the problem further."

"But-"

"And no talking! I've sent for some food for you. No solids until lunch tomorrow. And after you're done eating I'm going to put a brace on your jaw to restrict movement. It needs to be held in place in order to heal properly."

Draco snickered and left Potter gaping at the Mediwitch, finally satisfied.

Draco breezed into the Common Room and winced only a little as he flopped down next to Blaise and Pansy where they were arguing about an article in one of the porn magazines they played tag with. She narrowed her eyes at him as his expression registered. "And what are you so smug about?"

Draco was torn between grinning like a loon and smirking. "Potter's being muzzled as we speak," he announced.

Pansy squealed and hopped onto the couch next to Draco, jostling his ribs. "Easy Pans," he huffed. "You might have to take a look at my ribs too in a bit."

Pansy gasped. "You two fought again didn't you?" She paused and gave him a once-over. "You don't look like you've been manhandling Gryffindors..."

Draco nodded dismissively. "Cleaned up on the way here. I didn't want to get detention wandering the halls looking like a wreck."

Blaise cocked an eyebrow. "Muzzled?"

Draco grinned. "Yeah. Potter seems to have run into someone's fist and broken his jaw. He's in the hospital wing on a liquid diet. He's not allowed to talk and Pomfrey's putting a muzzle on him after he's done eating."

Pansy bit her lip. "You won't get into trouble, will you, Draco? I mean, it is Potter..."

"Nah. I stuck around long enough to make sure he wouldn't rat me out." No need to mention the odd twinging in his gut when he'd thought there might be something seriously wrong with Potter after all.

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