Chapter Summary: Harry wallows in the aftermath of his incident at the tavern, and Draco helps in an unexpected way.

AN: Sorry for the day late posting! I've decided to try and post on Thursdays instead moving forward. I might experiment with other days of the week as well if this doesn't work out, but for now, Thursday it is. Progress on the rest of the story is going pretty well, I'm currently working on chapter 7. Hope you enjoy this update!

With You My Tides will Ebb and Flow
Chapter 4: Crann Sailí

Waning Gibbous Moon in Libra: March 23rd, 1989

"Eat darling, you have to regain your strength," his mother urged from her seat across from him at the dining table. Draco glanced towards her briefly, catching her worried expression before picking up his fork gingerly. He took a single bite and then resigned to poking and pushing the food around on his plate. He never felt much like eating these days. But after a full moon, the thought was particularly off putting.

His transformation the night prior had been excruciating, yet again. It had become a pattern for him over the last year. Dread the full moon for four weeks. Hate every second of the full moon like it was his worst nightmare. Wake up in the wake of the full moon despising himself and what he was more than before. Then begin the cycle all over again.

The only thing that occasionally shook things up was trying whatever experimental potion his father provided him with leading up to the transformation. Then he'd hope against all odds that it either worked or didn't kill him. Lately…he'd been starting to wonder if it might actually be better if it did kill him. At least then he wouldn't have to feel like this anymore. Like his body was tearing itself apart from the inside. Like he was destroying his family's future. Like he was completely worthless. He hadn't seen a single friend in over a year. He felt like a dirty secret.

Was this really what the rest of his life would be? What was the point?

He pushed his plate away despite his mother's protests and slumped backwards in his chair, only to shoot upright and fix his posture as his father slammed open the nearest door and jaunted into the room.

He didn't look at Draco, not so much as a glance, instead addressing his mother alone. "Good news, finally," he started. "I believe I've found our answer."

Draco's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't heard this particular tone from his father in some time. He sounded genuinely excited, and Draco's heart rate quickened as he listened.

"That's wonderful," his mother exclaimed. She beamed at him, and his father brushed back her hair like he always used to. Before all of this happened. Before Draco had gone and ruined everything.

"I am in correspondence with someone regarding Draco's condition," his father explained. "A werewolf." He spat the word and Draco flinched in his seat. "One who can allegedly control the shift at will."

His mother's eyes widened in surprise and his father chuckled at her reaction. "I know it sounds a ridiculous notion. I would not seek his council if it was not necessary, but time is running out. We must be rid of this curse before Draco is to attend Hogwarts."

Hogwarts. The mention of the school left Draco reeling. It had been something that once brought him so much joy. The knowledge that one day he'd get to go there, where his parents had, and learn magic from some of the greatest talents in the Wizarding World. He'd be sorted into Slytherin, of course, and make lots of friends. Start his way on the path to greatness.

But now…that dream was so far away. There would be no place for a werewolf at Hogwarts. No place for him anywhere at all.

"Is he willing to share his secrets?" his mother asked, standing from her seat to grab hold of his father's arm.

"He has been hesitant. He does not fully trust me. But I revealed it was on behalf of a child-,"

His mother gasped, and tightened her hold. "You didn't!"

"I did. I had to garner his sympathy. And he has become less resistant to my inquiries ever since," his father finished. He looked proud of himself, of his...manipulation. Draco might have been proud of that once upon a time too, but he only felt unsettled by it now. "With any luck he will agree to a meeting." His father turned from them then, walking to the other end of the room. "I will be in my study writing a missive if you need me," he said as he hurried out. Draco listened to him walking throughout the manor, took note of his heavy footfalls on the steps leading upstairs.

His mother made her way around the table then, reaching out to touch Draco's shoulder. He did his utmost best not to flinch away. "Did you hear that Draco? All of this will be over soon," she reassured him.

Draco desperately wanted her words to be true. But he couldn't help but worry that this would prove to be yet another opportunity for him to fail.

Waxing Gibbous Moon in Libra: May 19th, 2005

Harry made his walk of shame back towards The Blue Moon early morning. The sun had yet to rise on the horizon, and he struggled to open the heavy tavern door without making a sound. He half expected it to be locked, but to his surprise it swung open at the slightest touch and he startled at the sight of Zel sitting at a table near the bar. She looked up at him, crossed her arms and frowned, and Harry ducked his head and blurted out a sloppy apology before promising to cover any costs for repair.

He stared at the floor in silence for a moment before she let out a long sigh and stood. "I'm not concerned about the tavern, Harry. I'm concerned about you," she spoke lowly, and he looked up at her in surprise.

"I'm f-fine," he stuttered out, though the look on her face told him she didn't believe him for a second. He fully intended to help her clean up, but upon looking around, it seemed his help was no longer needed. The entire place looked brand new. He floundered as he gaped at the spotless surroundings then practically begged Zel to allow him to help her in some other way. Eventually she gave in, directing him to collect her some fresh berries for her concoctions, but only after he got a few hours of rest.

Despite Zel's best efforts, he still got up for the day rather early and quickly made his way down to the eastern beaches with a basket. He set to picking strawberries from the bushes tucked along the tree line, which is exactly where Draco found him a few hours later in the late morning sun. Harry caught sight of the man walking down the shore, trousers rolled up as he traipsed through the swash in bare feet. Harry bit down on his lip and fervently ignored him, grimacing when Draco paused in his peripheral vision. Harry plucked at several more berries, pretending to study them intently as he plopped them in his wicker basket. Maybe if he just kept working…

Nope. Draco took that moment to step up the beach towards him.

"Fuck," Harry muttered under his breath. His fingers fumbled the berry between them, and he willed himself to continue working steadily. Moments later he was cast into shadow. Stupid tall bastard.

Draco was clearly there, just behind him, watching. But he didn't say a word, and Harry became increasingly annoyed. "What!" he finally snapped, turning to look at him angrily. Draco didn't flinch. He hardly reacted at all, just frowned down at him while continuing to block the entirety of the sunlight.

"What was that last night?" he finally asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry lied, and he huffed and turned back towards his work, shuffling further down the beach towards the next grouping of bushes. Draco followed after him like a dog on a leash. He could feel his stare, sense his irritation. Well, he could stay irritated for all Harry cared.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Draco sneered.

"Can't say I do."

Draco reached out and grabbed Harrys arm then, yanking his bandaged hand up in the air. "Cut the crap Potter," he hissed. "You weren't the only one hurt, in case you've forgotten." And suddenly Harry's face twisted in panic, and he was shaking all over again. The basket slipped from his other arm, falling to his feet as the berries rolled off into the sand.

"I…I didn't mean to," he stammered. His eyes moistened, and he was ashamed at how quickly he felt his control slipping away. He was already halfway to sobbing. To the point where Draco was beginning to turn into a blurred patch of colours in front of his eyes.

"Of course you didn't. Saint Potter, as if you meant to," Draco grumbled before letting him go. He stepped back from Harry, then looked down at the mess of berries scattered around them, before bending low to start plucking them from the sand. "Calm down. There was no serious damage done. Just a few cuts and bruises. Everyone's fine. You can relax," he muttered. "But what the fuck happened? I think we're owed a modicum of an explanation."

Harry sniffled slightly and took a shuddering breath. He was making a fool of himself left and right. He knelt down beside Draco and righted the basket for him to drop the rescued berries inside. Then the two of them continued chasing after the remaining stray berries with deft fingers.

"I just…got caught in a memory. In several memories. It happens sometimes," Harry explained. His hands halted in their quest for lost berries, clenching tightly in the sand. The grains slid beneath his haphazard bandages and scraped against his still open wounds. They throbbed. In fact, they hadn't stopped aching since he'd first noticed their existence, but he needed to keep busy, keep pretending that everything was okay. The moment he gave in would be the moment he completely crumbled.

Draco studied him carefully, gaze flicking back and forth from his face to where his palm lay atop the sand. "From the war?" he asked quietly.

Harry hesitated to answer. He didn't feel much like opening up, especially not to Draco Malfoy, but eventually he gave in. Draco was right. He owed him this much at least, after what he'd done. "The war…and before. And…after. All of it," he admitted. "I can't promise it won't happen again. So if you want me to go just…just say so."

He expected Draco to snap back immediately. To tell him to get the hell away from this island and these people. To fuck right off. But he didn't. He crouched next to Harry and stared at the sand in silence. After a long pause he moved to pick up the remaining few berries, then grabbed the basket and stood.

"How much of the island have you explored?" he asked, and Harry faltered, not expecting the question at all.

"Not much I suppose. Mostly just the village, and this stretch of beach."

Draco smirked, tucking the basket over his elbow. "Then you haven't been to see Crann Sailí yet?"

"To see what now?"

Draco didn't answer the question, instead tilting his head to the side as he spoke, "Come on, let's go."

Harry looked at him like he was out of his mind. Before he could come up with a response Draco started walking away, carrying the basket along with him. "Malfoy, I'm sort of in the middle of something!" Harry shouted after him. He watched as Draco turned towards him, walking backwards in the sand.

"I promise the strawberries will still be there to pluck when you come back to them. It can wait, come on," he insisted. This time when he turned to walk away, Harry scampered along after him.

Perhaps Harry should have questioned things more when Draco led him out into the forest to the North. But when he'd stepped onto a path leading into the trees from the beach Harry blindly followed in his wake. There were what felt like hundreds of smaller paths splitting off from it as they ventured forth, leading out in different directions and towards parts of the island Harry hadn't considered exploring at all. The trees became so dense that even the light of the sun hardly broke through the canopy above. Harry found himself squinting in the low lighting as he followed along blindly. Somehow Draco navigated it all with ease, without even casting a single four point spell.

Eventually they came to a split in the trail, but instead of choosing left or right Draco stepped off the path entirely and walked in between the trees. He seemed to know where he was going, but Harry grew more and more worried the further they walked from town. He couldn't even hear the echoes of laughter or the crashing of waves against the shore.

"You aren't taking me out here to murder me are you?" Harry asked. It was mostly a joke. Mostly.

"Don't be daft," Draco drawled. "You have your wand, I'm sure you're perfectly capable of defending yourself against little ol' me."

Harry narrowed his eyes as he traced the expanse of Draco's back with his gaze. Perhaps Draco's words would have been comforting to him at one time, but quite frankly, Harry was pretty sure Draco would easily win in a physical fight. He had a good amount of height on him, and greater body mass as well. During school Draco had always had more of a chaser's build than a seeker's, at least after they'd all hit puberty and began to grow to their inevitable heights. Looking at him now, Harry rather thought he'd even make for a good beater or keeper. He wasn't stocky, but he looked to have the strength for it. He'd need only disarm Harry and the fight would be won. And Harry knew Draco wasn't exactly one to follow the rules.

In a proper duel, however, Harry was certain he could still gain the upper hand. And he could be scrappy when he needed to be. Real duels never abided by some arbitrary rules. He was a trained Auror, after all, even if he was currently on leave. And while Draco was hardly bad at duelling - he had a strong magical core and mastered most spells quickly and with relative ease - from what Harry could see his wand was conspicuously absent.

"Can't help but notice you don't seem to have yours, what's that all about anyway?" Harry wondered.

Draco turned his head to the side, looking back at him with a raised eyebrow as he answered, "Don't need it anymore."

Harry gaped at him in surprise. He couldn't imagine not having his wand with him. Not now. At one time, he'd been so careless with it, leaving it on his nightstand, losing it in his bed sheets at school. It was comical how often he'd have to scour the entire common room just to find it for his classes. But after school, after the war, it'd become like another appendage. He'd grown so used to needing it, and rather paranoid about losing it. The idea of being defenseless was his worst nightmare. He was proficient in some wandless magic, most adult wizards were, but there would always be spells he'd need it for.

Draco's lack of concern was…peculiar. Harry thought of the hawthorn wand that had once belonged to him, confiscated by some ministry official long ago and put on display for the wizarding world to ogle over. The wand that killed Voldemort. Had Draco never replaced it? He had disappeared rather quickly after things had settled. Finished his last year at Hogwarts, quietly completed his brief parole, and then Harry hadn't heard a whisper of him since. Had he been here, all this time? On this little remote island far from home?

In the midst of Harry's musing a clearing opened up before them and Harry blinked at their surroundings in wonder. He spotted an incredibly large stump in the middle of the glade, in the centre of which strangely grew another tree. The branches of it reached out all around the space, long strands of leaves hanging down towards the ground, and its rather large roots wrapped up around the old rotting ones from the age old stump. Covering the ground were flat stones settled deep in the soil. They were extremely condensed closer to the tree, but became sparser and more spread out towards the edges of the clearing. Every so often the smattering of sunlight that made its way through the foliage reflected off the stones, lighting them up like sparkling jewels. It was incredibly beautiful. And if magic manifested itself visually, Harry supposed it would look something like this. Fantastical and wondrous to the eyes.

He felt the underlying power of the site immediately as he took his first step into the open area.

"What is this place?" Harry asked. He looked up as he walked, letting the falling leaves drag over his face as he passed between them. They brushed across his cheeks softly in greeting and he smiled up at them in return.

Draco stopped near the centre, just at the edge of the stump and answered, "A graveyard."

Harry froze, eyeing him sceptically. "Sweet Merlin, you really are planning to murder me."

"Don't be a prat."

Harry grinned widely, and he let out a low chuckle and looked down at the ground. He couldn't see any sign of tombstones, or plaques, or nameplates identifying the burial sites. Just those strange cobbled stones. It was almost as if someone had intended to construct a floor, but given up halfway. "If it's a graveyard, then where are the graves?"

"You're standing on them, the stones are markers, or well, tokens of memory," Draco said, gesturing with his hands towards the rocks that surrounded them both. Harry startled and stumbled back. His foot caught against the ridge of one of the stones and he struggled to right himself without standing directly on a single one. He gaped down at the ground, suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer number of them. They must have gone back hundreds of years. He noticed then the barest hint of a symbol carved across one of them. A pale blue stone with a rune he couldn't place, but he was sure held some significance. Upon closer look it appeared they all held some kind of marking. Some of the etchings were rather jagged and chipped away, but the vast majority looked to be variations of a similar crescent like shape. There were no names, no dates. Nothing else to identify the graves as far as Harry could see. He swallowed nervously and peered at the path he'd carelessly taken to where he stood.

"Shit, sorry," Harry blurted.

Suddenly Draco was laughing, bending over at the waist as he pointed at Harry animatedly. "You should see your face Potter! Looks like you've eaten a flobberworm!" He sighed happily and stood up straight before running his hand through his hair. "It's fine, they're meant to be walked on, you're not going to raise an army of inferi or something like that at the touch of your heel on stone. No one is actually buried here. We burn our dead and spread their ashes around the roots of the tree."

Harry pursed his lips as his cheeks reddened. He should have been more affronted at being laughed at so heartily, but instead he was mostly struck by the way Draco's face transformed when he grinned. He looked like a completely different person.

He watched as Draco put the basket of berries on the ground before sitting down on the cut off stump. When Draco stretched his legs out in front of him atop the stones and leaned back on his hands Harry felt a lump form in his throat. He couldn't help but watch as Draco's bare feet settled atop the dirt and grass, the ends of his toes even touching some of the flat stones directly. Harry was certain the Draco from his memory wouldn't have been caught dead in such an improper position. And yet here he was. Casually sprawled in the middle of a forest without a care in the world.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Draco beckoned him closer with a quick, "Sit with me." Draco patted the stump at his side as if to entice him, and Harry eyed him warily.

What was he doing?

"Honestly Potter. I won't bite," Draco teased. The way he said it was somehow startling, his lips spreading wide across his face in a daring toothy smirk. Harry wasn't entirely sure he believed him. Draco raised a single pale eyebrow and added, "I have no wand, no weapon. What is it you expect me to do to you? Pummel you with berries?"

Harry wasn't sure what to expect, and that was part of the problem. But, if it came down to it, Harry was willing to bite, if it helped him get free. And he certainly wasn't one to cower in the face of a taunt. He walked closer, attempting to step between the stones as much as possible. No matter what Draco said, it didn't feel right to him to treat them as if they were not there. But the closer he came to the tree, the more impossible it became to avoid them. They were simply too densely packed within the ground.

Harry breathed in deeply before settling beside Draco on the old cut down trunk, leaving a hefty distance between them. He flexed his wrist instinctively, finding comfort in the weight of his wand against his arm. The leaves of the inner tree hung over his head, tickling at his nose as he settled into place, and Harry stared up at them, watching idly as a couple of squirrels played amongst the branches and shook some loose nuts free.

"With all of your wandering these past few days I can't believe you haven't already come across this place," Draco commented.

"I…was hesitant to go into the forest I s'pose," Harry said with a frown. "Don't know why," he added on, genuinely confused by his complete lack of interest in doing so. Normally he would have eagerly explored, but he'd been content to stick within the confines of the village and along the coastline. Though now, after seeing the intricate maze of pathways, he wasn't sure he'd be able to do much exploring at all. At least not without getting lost and ultimately starving to death in the woods. He clasped his hands together between his knees, flinching slightly as the movement jarred his still open wounds.

He could sense Draco's stare upon his face. As though searching Harry's expression for answers. Harry grimaced and turned towards him with a glare. "What?" He spat.

Draco frowned slightly, and then sighed before turning his body towards Harry on the stump. He pulled one leg up atop the ringed wood between them and held out his arm atop his knee, palm up. "Give me your hand," he ordered.

Harry bristled and leaned away from him instinctively. "What? Why?"

"Just give it here Potter."

Harry hesitated, but eventually reached out, doing his best not to flinch away when Draco grasped his hand between nimble fingers and pulled it closer. He watched as Draco slowly unravelled the poorly wrapped bandages before scowling at the wounds revealed beneath them. He turned Harry's hand from side to side, pressing his thumbs into the skin to stretch out his palm, and Harry winced as the sensitive areas were pulled at. He had never really trained in healing, so his largely unsuccessful spells late last night had done little to ease the open wounds across his palm. They throbbed with every movement, and Harry was beginning to suspect some of them might be infected.

Despite the concerning state of his hand, he was much more worried about the damage he'd left behind. "Did I…really hurt many others?" Harry asked quietly. He spotted Draco's brief glance upwards before he returned to his thorough inspection of Harry's palm.

"Nothing serious. Like I said. Nothing like what you've gone and done to yourself," he chastised. "You should have seen the soothsayer straight away."

"Soothsayer?"

Draco paused, turning his head to the side. He looked flabbergasted for a second before coming to some kind of realization. He opened his mouth slightly and closed it once before speaking. "The island healer," he explained.

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence then, in which Harry wondered if he was meant to ask more, and in which Draco said nothing. He let Draco continue to prod at his hand, staring off into the trees surrounding the clearing.

It was odd. There was something about this place in particular that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He wasn't concerned, despite his initial distress regarding walking on the so called graves below them. If anything, it was extremely peaceful. Strangely, it reminded him a bit of what it felt like to walk through a ghost, though without the frigid cold in his bones to accompany it. It was familiar somehow. He'd felt it in the village as well, the unusual magic in his surroundings. But this was far stronger. Like the air was thick with it. Like it was cascading over the surface of his skin. Like it was making its way inside him, filling up his lungs, and wrapping around the entirety of his person.

"This place feels…," Harry trailed off, blinking up at the leaves dangling atop his shoulders. "Well, odd."

Draco's ministrations paused, and he peered at Harry with a guarded expression. "Odd how?" The words were so quiet Harry thought he'd imagined them, but Draco raised an eyebrow as he waited and Harry knew he hadn't.

"Like it's infused with this...energy. I can't explain it."

Something about that appeared to startle Draco. His hands fell slightly, taking Harry's palm with them, and he stretched out his neck and sat up straight atop the stump. "You can feel it?" he asked, expression twisting in surprise.

Harry shifted slightly in place and swallowed before answering. "Mmm, it's…it's not uncomfortable, but it is weird. Puts me on edge. Like an itch that needs to be scratched but can't be reached." Harry looked at Draco and asked, "Is it magic? Or is it…something else?"

"It is magical. Not in the way you are familiar with. But magical all the same," Draco started. He frowned and looked up into the leaves above as if searching for what to say. His gaze shifted towards the tree then out at the surrounding graves. He took a shaky breath before facing Harry once again. "When someone in the village dies, their ashes are buried here, for future generations to grow atop of, and their magic, their essence, provides life to this tree for years to come," He uttered, gesturing towards the tree growing just beside them. "You could say it contains the magical essence of every person who has ever called this island home. It cannot grow without it, without all of us. And in return…," he trailed off, gaze dipping towards Harry's hand. He looked about to say something but instead he shook his head minutely and grasped Harry's hand tighter. "Merlin Potter, you did a number on yourself. And this half arsed attempt at bandaging. Pathetic."

The sudden insult irked him, and Harry yanked his hand back and glared at Draco viciously. Harry was well aware of his mediocre healing capabilities, thank you very much, and he didn't need Draco Malfoy critiquing them too. He shifted away slightly, making himself more comfortable atop the stump before looking down at it between his legs. He scratched idly at the surface, wondering if he should get up and start walking back towards the village. But there was no way he'd find his way on his own. He'd have to wait until Draco decided to leave.

His nail caught on the uneven wood then, and Harry studied the aged rings running beneath his legs intently. They were dried and cracking, beginning to warp away from one another with the passage of time. He followed them back towards the centre of the stump with his gaze, where it was broken apart to make room for the newer, though still large, and thriving tree inside. The sheer number of rings was astounding. There must have been thousands of them. It was older than he could imagine. He struggled to picture what such a tree might have looked like fully intact. Impressive, no doubt.

It was rather damaged, the more he paid attention to it. Missing large chunks in places, as if an axe, or several had been taken to it. Though the surface had softened from the elements over time, and now moss was growing up the cracked bark at the edges and vines had worked their way along the sides.

"What happened to this tree?" Harry asked curiously. He tapped his fingers across the stump between them.

Draco smiled secretly and said, "No one really knows. There are just stories, myths. Conri likes to tell them sometimes. Perhaps he might share them with you one day." Then to Harry's annoyance added, "Or perhaps not."

He spared Draco a withering glance and then stared down at the thick roots pressing up beneath his feet. "It's a bit sad. I bet it was incredible to see."

"And yet another grows within. Not as large, but beautiful all the same. And one day, it may grow just as big." Draco patted his hand against the bark of the tree behind them like he was greeting an old friend. "This is Crann Sailí. The Willow Tree." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and splayed his fingers across the bark. "It serves as a reminder that even after great despair, the strength of a unified community can rise together again." Harry looked at it, and then looked back at Draco. He'd never seen him look so at peace. Brow relaxed, hair sweeping over his cheekbones, lips devoid of their ever-present sneer. "If you listen, you can almost…hear it. There's life in there. The voices of ages past, leading the way. Lending their power."

When had Draco become so…reflective? Harry tilted his head to the side and asked, "No offense Malfoy, but have you lost your mind?"

Draco breathed out through his nostrils, and opened one of his eyes to glare at Harry as he taunted, "Well if you're too scared-,"

"As if," Harry scoffed at him.

"Then try for yourself before acting a fool, you absolute dunderhead," Draco jeered. He reached out and gripped Harry's wrist tightly before guiding his injured hand back towards the tree along with him. And Harry let him, leaning back as he settled his damaged fingers tentatively atop the peeling wood. It was rough beneath his skin, but soothing all the same. Harry found his eyes drifting shut as he sat there in the quiet of nature. And slowly but surely he began to understand what Draco was saying. He could have sworn the tree was breathing. He gasped as it pulsed beneath his palm, and he spread his fingers wide as he pressed them fully against the bark. The strange itch beneath his skin slipped away as he felt it. Energy, pure and free. It was running through his veins, a part of him now, and he a part of it.

But that wasn't all. Just like the many rings that adorned the stump below, Harry could feel thousands of other living, breathing beings, reaching out to him through the strange connection they now shared. It was like he was being held in a comforting embrace by thousands of souls all at once. Like they were reassuring him, guiding him, and mourning his losses along with him. His eyes burned slightly at the overwhelming sensation, and he breathed in shakily before pulling his palm away. Harry stared down at his hand with wide eyes, and as he flexed his fingers he saw that every cut upon them had miraculously healed.

"M-Malfoy…did you-,"

But Draco looked just as surprised. He gaped down at Harry's hand like it was full of mysteries. Draco stood suddenly, running long fingers through his hair in almost frantic motions as he looked back out into the trees.

"Let's get back," Draco muttered.

"But-,"

Then he turned towards Harry and said, "You were in the middle of something incredibly urgent, after all, weren't you?" When he set off into the trees Harry stood and scurried after him, only to let out an exasperated sound as he circled back for his abandoned basket of berries. He hurried out into the woods after Draco once he grabbed it, managing to only trip over a few of the stones below on the way.

"Wait!" Harry cried. He panted slightly as he drew near Draco, falling in line beside him as he caught his breath. "I just…," Harry wheezed. Draco eyed him while he struggled to come up with something to say. Eventually he settled on, "Thank you. For bringing me here."

Draco remained quiet for a moment, staring down at Harry searchingly. He glanced towards Harry's hands, where they were clasped together beneath the handle of the basket before tracing the length of Harry's arm with his gaze and landing back at his face. "Sure," he said, almost gently, before turning and continuing on his way. Harry stared after him, watching the tilt of his neck as he bent slightly forwards while he walked. His stride was long, but not quick, and Harry followed easily in his wake. They made the rest of the journey in silence, and by the end of it, the shape of Draco's silhouette was practically burned into the surface of Harry's eyes.

AN: Thanks again for reading! Next chapter will be up in a week!