Hogwarts or Azkaban—they're fools if they think it will make a difference.

"I don't know where you get off-" Ron snarled at Pansy, slapping the table with his hands. Plates clattered, and students turned, muttering quietly to each other, the silence of the Great Hall becoming all too suffocating. It would have been nice if Harry understood what they were arguing about-maybe the embarrassment would have been tolerable-, but they lost him somewhere between a third-year incident and a snide comment about George's joke shop.

"Oh, as if—" Pansy said, just as oblivious to the scene they were making. He should have left with Dean and Neville, who made a clean escape before things became quite so vocal, but Malfoy wasn't finished eating, and he couldn't leave without him.

"Is she always like this?" Harry whispered, leaning closer so only Malfoy could hear.

He eyed him wearily. "Funny you assume she's the problem."

Harry glared but said nothing. Malfoy had been surprisingly reserved throughout breakfast, leaving himself out of the hostility even when mentioned by name, and Harry didn't want to push it. He was calmer than he used to be, which was admittedly a relief, but it made him harder to read.

Harry's head throbbed, a steady ache forming just behind his eyes. Ron and Hermione's bickering was always obnoxious, but this was just cruel. God, he wanted to leave. He glanced at Malfoy's plate, a dozen different breakfast foods picked at and abandoned as if Malfoy hoped he would find his appetite along the way. He'd given up on the endeavor if his folded hands were any indication. Harry sighed, too tired to insist he eat more. "Do you want to head to class?"

"I suppose," Draco said, and they left quickly without much fanfare. They'd see their friends later in class, and not even Hermione's pleading expression was enough to trap him there for a second longer.

"God, I hope that's not going to be a regular thing," Harry said, stretching his shoulders once they had cleared the entrance. Fewer students lingered in the halls now that breakfast was served, but Harry still flinched as several particularly eager first-years tracked their movement.

Draco hummed in agreement and wordlessly kept up with Harry's quickened pace.

Transfiguration was almost as bad as Harry anticipated. McGonagall was no longer teaching-thankfully too busy with her headmaster duties-but Draco wasn't allowed to have his wand, and he was seemingly not interested in keeping that fact subtle. Instead of feigning interest in the textbook or starting on homework early, Malfoy sat with his head in his arms, a pose Harry might have mistaken for sleeping if not for the agitated tap of fingernails on desk.

The new professor-a tall man with square glasses and a slight limp-passed him without a word, commenting on Harry's half-transmogrified teacup before moving on to the next group. They all knew the situation then. Harry should have been relieved, but something about it seemed patronizing, and the sour taste didn't leave his mouth as class ended.

History of Magic was no better. Even without wands, Malfoy looked distant and distracted, holding his quill to the paper, the unmoving nib bleeding ink onto the blank page.

Harry nudged him, "You'll fail your N.E.W.T.s at this rate." Harry was hardly one to speak on the matter, having relied on Hermione for the entirety of his time at Hogwarts, but it felt important for Malfoy to care.

Malfoy looked up, his cold, grey eyes assessing. "You don't say?" His tone was indifferent without a hint of sarcasm, and Harry winced. He didn't remind him again.

Things slightly improved in Arithmancy. Hermione sat on his right, and Draco finally started writing on his left. (Harry doubted he was taking notes, given the uninterrupted scribbling coming from his side of the table.) Still, Harry didn't bother him and focused on understanding a single word the professor said (he was unsuccessful.)

"I don't know why you decided now would be a good time to start," Hermione said, following Harry out of the classroom. "Jumping into an advanced level class is something even I wouldn't do. Not without months of preparation at least."

Harry laughed awkwardly, glancing at Malfoy, who was waiting a few meters down the hall. "Yeah, I might borrow your old textbooks to catch up."

"Just don't expect me to tutor you all semester, Harry. I've already got enough on my plate trying to get Ron to graduation." She blew a strand of hair out of her face, raising her eyebrows. "Maybe Malfoy can help you."

"Thanks, Hermione." He gave her his most charming smile, ignoring the suggestion entirely. Years ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to explain himself and air out all of Malfoy's deep-seated issues, but now the pointlessness of it all seemed inevitable. He was exhausted, and too many people already knew that Malfoy probably wished didn't. Harry wouldn't add to that.

She sighed and walked away to find Ron wherever he was. Harry had already made excuses for not coming with her, and only half of them were lies.

"We've got a while until dinner," Harry said, jogging to join Malfoy where he stood against the wall. "Library or dorm? We can get a head start on homework."

Draco didn't look at him, his voice barely audible over the bustling of students moving and chatting around them. "Dorm, please."

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard Malfoy use that word before, but pointing that out felt cruel somehow. Being nice to Malfoy had not been a part of his duties, but the boy in front of him was clearly not the same one he'd fought with for so many years, and any satisfaction he'd once gotten out of goading him was no longer there.

Returning to the dorm had been the right call, and Harry knew it as soon as he walked past the threshold. Fragmented sunlight waned softly through the window, painting a warm mosaic of orange and red over the stone floor. The cramped space was filled with a cozy haze of the afternoon, and Harry immediately released the tension in his shoulders.

Maybe Malfoy didn't notice the pleasant atmosphere because he brushed past Harry without comment, shucking off his shoes and crawling into bed. He still had on his outer robes, but Harry didn't say anything as Malfoy curled into himself and went still.

The weather continued to cast pleasant shapes and colors over the room as Harry started his transfiguration essay, the orange dissipating into a cool blue when he eventually gave up on it for the night. It wasn't due for another two weeks, and if he finished it, he wouldn't have anything to fill the silence tomorrow. Merlin, this year was going to be dull.

Malfoy hadn't stirred from his place on the bed, his eyes closed and breath shallow, and Harry found his eyes tracing the gentle fan of blond hair across the crimson bedspread. Harry had never seen him like this: his pointy edges softened, and his expression slack. Something twisted in his gut, and he looked away-suddenly uncomfortable with the intimacy of the view.

A knock came at the door, sliding open before Harry could even think to answer. A short bob of black hair peaked inside just enough to catch sight of Malfoy and then turned to Harry with a dirty look.

"How long has he been sleeping?" Pansy Parkinson hissed, sliding in and closing the door behind her.

"Maybe two hours?" Harry said. It was clear he was being scolded, but he had yet to figure out what he had done wrong.

She folded her arms and looked at her friend's sleeping form, a frown creasing her face. "Has he seemed alright today?"

"I think so?"

She glared at him again.

"He was quiet, but-what am I supposed to say here exactly?"

"You're supposed to tell me how he fucking is." She hissed.

"He seems tired!" Harry said, frustrated. "That's about all I have for you, Parkinson."

Pansy took another cautious glance at Malfoy-scared to wake him-and stalked closer. "Listen, Potter." She said the name so specifically Harry was certain she'd picked it up from Malfoy himself. "If anything happens to him, I'll be holding you responsible. Do you hear me?"

"Pansy, listen-"

"No, you listen. We should be the ones taking care of him, not you." Her eyes blazed. "I understand there are valid reasons for you not to like us. I get it, but I need you to understand that I would sell you out again in a second if it meant keeping Draco safe."

Harry flinched.

"So all this to say," she pursed her lips as if she was repressing a growl. "Take your job fucking seriously."

"I will."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Good." She turned towards the door, glancing back at him, turning the handle. "We'll be seeing a lot of each other, so try not to fuck everything up." The door clicked shut behind her, and Harry slumped, suddenly exhausted.

What was he doing? He didn't know what was wrong with Malfoy or how to make it any easier. He barely knew how to take care of himself on a good day. He would still be rotting in his creaky old house if Hermione hadn't insisted on dragging him out, and Ron was the only reason he ate over the summer. Today was the first time in months he left his house as a human, and even that felt unbearable at times. How was he supposed to help Malfoy if he could barely function himself?

He glanced at Draco, a weariness filling his bones. There must be someone more qualified for this. His gaze landed lazily on Malfoy's face and he startled, steady grey eyes watching back, very much awake.

"Sorry, did we wake you?" Harry asked, clearing the shock out of his voice.

Malfoy sat up, his hair crimped into an odd, lopsided angle. "No." he scrubbed his face. "I would need to fall asleep in the first place for that to be possible."

Harry didn't know how to respond, so he said, "Your friends really seem to love you."

"They do." Malfoy nodded, his expression sincere.

"Does pansy ever stop being scary?"

He shook his head, "She does not." And smiled to himself, so quickly that Harry almost missed it.

Harry picked at his carrots, trying not to stare at Malfoy, who likewise was doing a very poor job of not staring at Hermione. His grip was tight on his fork as he pushed his food around, throwing cautious glances in front of him. Hermione, the only one among the three not hiding the fact she was staring, waited patiently for Malfoy to answer her question.

"I don't know." He finally said, too quietly.

Hermione frowned. "Really? Well, that's surprising." It had been an easy enough question: what are you doing after Hogwarts? But Malfoy's face drained of any remaining blood as she tapped her fork against her bottom lip and opened her mouth to ask another question.

"Hermione," Harry said, "Could I borrow those old arithmancy textbooks later?"

She blinked, "Oh, of course." She glanced back to Malfoy, apparently eager to continue their one-sided conversation.

"Yeah, I was trying to do the reading from class today, and," He whooshed a hand over his head, shrugging helplessly.

Hermione grinned, turning her body slightly to face him. "Oh, but it's a fascinating subject. I think you'll be really suited to it once you catch up-"

Harry nodded, keeping his face pleasantly neutral as she spoke. He understood very little but was pleased when Malfoy finally took a bite of his dinner.

Soon, Pansy joined them, blatantly ignoring Harry, and then Ron, who blatantly ignored Pansy, and then the rest of the table filtered in, chattering happily about the first day of classes and all the exciting things coming up. Harry didn't have much to say. He wasn't allowed to play on a quidditch team this year, and Hogsmeade wasn't the draw it had been when he was thirteen and untraumatized. But everyone seemed so excited to be back, brimming with expectations and hope, so he smiled and pretended like he was, too.

He looked to Malfoy occasionally, measuring the food on his plate and wondering if he felt that same dissonance. What was Malfoy excited about? His head was bent close to Pansy's as she whispered in his ear-probably planning Harry's murder with his luck. Blaise came in late, and the three Slytherins chatted quietly with one another, ignoring the rest of the table completely. Harry couldn't help but smile into his pumpkin juice. Surely, Malfoy was excited to be with his friends again.

Harry was picking at his treacle tart when Blaise and Pansy left, kissing the top of Draco's head affectionately before heading out. Malfoy watched them go and turned back to his food, his face returning to his standard apathetic expression.

It didn't take long for Hermione to set her sights on him, growing tired of Ron and Dean's conversation about Muggle sports. "So, Malfoy," She said, her chin resting on her fist. "Why aren't you taking Potions this year?"

Harry stiffened.

"I mean, you were always near the top of the class. I assumed you would want to try for an N.E.W.T. certification."

"I wasn't allowed to." He said, not looking up. Something was happening, Harry realized, as he watched Draco tense, his jaw clenching and his fingers starting to twitch.

Hermione frowned, oblivious to his discomfort. "Why not? It's hardly like the professors to discriminate between students."

Harry didn't know what to do. He didn't even know what exactly Draco was reacting so poorly to. Surely, this wasn't because she was a muggle-born.

Harry yawned, stretching his arms out to cut into Hermione's focus. "Well, I'm exhausted." He nudged Malfoy with his elbow. "Wanna head back to the dorm?"

Malfoy nodded and stood.

"I'll come by for that textbook later, Hermione!" He grinned at her and shuffled out, carefully keeping Malfoy in front of him.

"Are you alright?" He asked once they had cleared the large doors to the Great Hall.

Malfoy pursed his lips, but he was shaking slightly as they walked.

"Is it something Hermione said?"

"No."

"You still can't handle talking to Muggleborns then?" Harry unsuccessfully tried to keep the bite out of his voice. He shouldn't be surprised Malfoy is still a bigot.

Malfoy stared at him blankly, almost confused. "You think-" He turned sharply and walked away, ignoring Harry completely until they had closed the door to their dorm. "I'm not doing this," he muttered before crawling into bed and becoming unresponsive for the rest of the night.