Draco sat on the floor with his back to his dormitory's door, guarding Harry as he slept. He had failed him, somehow, and he didn't understand what he had done wrong, but a reaction like Harry had displayed in the common room didn't manifest out of nowhere; Draco knew that much.

Harry had been suffering alone, for Salazar knew how long, and Draco hadn't noticed. He was a terrible friend.

A part of Draco was mad at Harry for not saying something earlier. Sure, near-death experiences were scary, and Draco could only imagine that being nearly murdered was even worse, but Harry never reacted this negatively to anything.

It was scary.

Draco wanted to come up with a plan to distract Harry and make him happy again, but he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that that wasn't what Harry needed. Harry needed to talk to someone about not only what had happened, but about his feelings. Draco was woefully inadequate. He didn't have any of the answers.

Harry also needed to be safe, and Draco wasn't much better suited there, either. He had been learning spells as quickly as he could, and he was just behind Harry in Defence, but he was only eleven. There was only so much he could do.

Maybe he should practice his levitation charm, some more. He could float a feather just fine, but a feather was hardly the same as a preteen plummeting to his death, was it? Would the killer try making Harry fall, again? He must have been trying to make it look like an accident, or he could have just hit Harry with a lethal curse, and been done with it.

Now that people knew that Harry had been targeted, would the killer back off, or would he drop the act, and go for the direct approach?

Draco needed to look up some shield charms. Offensive spells, too.

Harry was fast, with quick reflexes. They should practice dodging spell-fire, together. Draco should practice jumping into spell-fire, too. Harry couldn't know about that, though.

His parents couldn't know about that, either.

It was bad enough that Draco was starting to question some of the things his parents had taught him. It they learned that he was, at least theoretically, willing to put his life at risk to save Harry, they would never let them stay friends.

Maybe he should start carrying a knife.

Or a sword.

Did Hogwarts have a policy against carrying a sword? Gryffindor had had one, after all.

Merlin, he was so useless.

"Hi Draco," Gemma Farley said softly. "Is Harry okay?"

Draco shrugged, helplessly. "He hasn't made any noise. I don't want to disturb him."

"Are you doing alright?"

"Of course, I am. No one tried killing me, today."

Farley sat down next to him. "No, but someone tried to kill your best friend. That can't be easy."

"I'm great. I just learned that I'm a useless coward that freezes under pressure, is all," Draco snapped. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Would Harry be a useless coward, if he froze for a split-second and didn't know the right spell to save you from a fall?"

Draco scowled. "Of course, not! I said I'm not talking about this."

"Do you think you're better than Harry?"

Draco pinched his lips shut.

"Is it his blood that makes him inferior, to you think? Or is it something special about him, that makes him so pathetic?"

"Shut up! There's nothing wrong with him!"

Farley pinned Draco with a hard look. "There's nothing wrong with you, either."

"I know what you're trying to do, so just stop it."

"What am I trying to do?"

"Trick me into believing that I should just be okay with the fact that I almost let my best friend die, today. It's not going to work. I'm allowed to feel bad that I failed him."

"You're allowed to learn from what happened today, so you're better prepared if something ever happens again," Farley agreed, mildly. "Just do me a favor, and remember one thing, okay?"

Draco sighed. "What's that?"

Farley smiled. "When you are picking apart everything that happened, and everything you could have done differently, just remember that it's Harry Potter's best friend you're judging so harshly. Harry seems pretty protective over his friends. He probably even gave someone a concussion, standing up for a certain blonde boy a little while ago. Don't upset Harry by being too mean to his friends."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I need to learn how to be better under pressure."

"That is something you can improve, with practice. I'm thinking of coming up with some drills and games for the entire house, to improve everyone's reflexes and reaction times. We have a duelling stage in our common room, Malfoy. It would be pretty un-Slytherin if we didn't put it to good use, and just wallowed in our weaknesses, instead. No one reacted fast enough to save Harry. Clearly, we all need some training. Would you mind helping me come up with some ideas?"

Draco hesitated, knowing that this was a ploy to manipulate and distract him, but he did have some ideas for some fun ways to practice quick thinking and moving without hesitation.

And it would help Harry, in the long run, if he had a whole house of Slytherins properly trained to protect him.

"Alright," he finally agreed. "Thanks, Farley."

"No, thank-you, Malfoy. You and Potter always have the best game ideas, anyways. I'm not psychotic or chaotic enough to do this on my own."

Draco laughed a weak, shaky shadow of his normal, full-bodied chuckle, but it still managed to release some of the tension that had been building in his chest. "Anything to help Slytherin house save Harry Potter."

Farley grinned. "There's not a soul in Slytherin that would not sell a kidney to have the Boy Who Lived owe them a life-debt… probably even their own."