Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

This is an existing story that I've been re-writing. Much of the elements are the same but there is a lot that's different. This one will be more in depth, include new scenes, exclude previous scenes, and more.

I got quite a few reviews on the previous version spouting dislike about the fact that Drarry isn't in every chapter. So I'm putting this here: this story does revolve around Draco and Harry. They are the heaviest ship in this fic. BUT, they are not necessarily going to be in every chapter. There are other plots and ships scattered throughout and there is smut between other characters.

I hope you enjoy :)

Trigger Warnings: Past rape, lime

Harry never had a place he could call home. He felt comfortable with the Weasleys, but he still felt like a guest at their house. He still felt indebted to them. Their home was his home, they said, but it wasn't. Not really.

Not even Hogwarts felt like home. He could be freer there than anywhere else, but he was attacked nearly every year, there were students and teachers who hated him, teenagers were brutal, he was scrutinized by his peers and the media, and even his friends turned on him once or twice. Ron more than a few times. He knew the nooks and crannies of the castle better than anyone who was currently there thanks to Fred and George, so if he needed to get away where no one could follow, he had a plethora of places to choose from. If he was careful enough with slipping away.

He has never been able to fully be himself, so he didn't actually know what that felt like. But at least no one beat him up, here. No one called him a freak. No one starved him. No one… hurt him in the ways the Dursleys do. Not in the way Dudley does.

He loved coming back to the school every September but he always felt apprehension because something always happened to him. And this year was already one of the worst. Between pensieve sessions with Dumbledore, legilimency lessons from Snape (though those didn't last long), manipulating a memory from Slughorn, Ron and Lavender sucking each other's faces off, a perpetually pissed off Hermione, the Half Blood Prince's book, Ron getting poisoned, girls trying to sneak him love potions, Malfoy being sneaky and suspicious, Katie Bell getting cursed, hitting Malfoy with a curse that almost killed him, and war looming over the horizon, Harry felt like he was going mad. His mind and his moods were spiraling out of control and he didn't have any healthy coping mechanisms. Not to mention a foreboding feeling that things were about to drastically change. Though at least it was March, he thought. But a lot can happen in four months.

Not a single year while he was at this school has been anything but chaotic. This was the curse of his life. He stopped trying to predict anything or expect peace after his third year. Before he knew he was a wizard, life sucked but it was simple and easy for him to handle. It was predictable. He was abused and neglected, but he learned how to control outcomes and ease his family's moods. Ever since Voldemort and Dumbledore came swooping into his life, he lost all forms of control. All sense of predictability flew out the window. He found a method of coping that not even his closest friends knew about; he kept the visible evidence of it covered at all times, whether by clothing or a spell.

This addiction exploded last summer when Dudley decided he would take out his frustrations on Harry in a new way that Vernon and Petunia didn't know about. That was when his panic attacks started. That was when he began falling, desperately grasping for the light Dumbledore kept promising him that always seemed out of reach.

Harry shook his head free of those thoughts and shuddered, pressing his fingertips to the underside of his left arm to ground himself. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Pain helped him focus and took the edge off. He could not afford to have a panic attack right now. Not when he was so close to finally confronting Malfoy. To apologize, he reminded himself.

As he poured over the Marauder's Map searching for a certain someone's footsteps, he knew that Hermione was right. He had become obsessed with it and finding out what Malfoy was up to. Harry hated that she was right and he continued to deny it out loud, but he knew the truth. He still didn't agree with her about being obsessed with Malfoy himself, though. That was just absurd. He knew why he had obsessions and why she didn't understand it. Obsessing over things made him feel important. It gave him a purpose and made him feel needed, even if he went overboard sometimes.

He had good reason to believe Malfoy was up to something and that he was a death eater, but she grew more annoyed with every point he tried to make. Before the beginning of the school year back in August, he heard him and Narcissa in Madam Malkin's shop. Draco freaked out about his left sleeve being pushed up. How was that not proof? But Hermione didn't buy it. She even fought him about the unbreakable vow he found out about, disregarded Harry's suspicions about what happened to Katie Bell, and refused to believe it was Malfoy's doing when Ron was accidentally poisoned by a bottle of mead meant for the headmaster. Draco was just a student, after all. A kid like them. So she said. She had gotten particularly testy about it recently, so he shut his mouth and left it alone. He may be annoyed with her for not taking this seriously, but she was also very annoyed with him for constantly bringing it up. Especially after he almost killed the blonde a little less than a week ago. He really couldn't blame her.

But he knew better. He wasn't sure how or why, he just had a gut feeling. But even he made mistakes, and he went too far last week. He felt horrid about that and even got rid of the potions textbook, but hadn't worked up the courage to apologize, yet. Though, to be fair, the blonde had only returned to classes two days ago and would he even let Harry apologize without attacking him? Harry thought not. But he still needed to try, which was why he was currently scouring the map… and maybe he'd find out what Malfoy was up to at the same time.

His breath hitched; Malfoy's name appeared. Harry figured out by now that the blonde was using the Room of Requirement, but he's tried going in there asking for the room Draco was using and found nothing. The RoR kept giving him different rooms. He needed to follow Malfoy inside, which was why he was sitting under his invisibility cloak on the floor outside the empty wall next to where the door would appear. Harry scrambled up and hunched over so his feet wouldn't be visible. A minute later, Draco came around the corner and walked back and forth in front of the wall. A door appeared and Harry followed him inside. He almost audibly gasped at how large this room was and how many mountainous piles of – well, rubbish, towered over them. It looked like years of discarded items that teetered precariously on top of each other, magic being the only thing keeping it all from toppling over.

He was so in awe that he didn't notice Draco stop walking, or that he turned around. He waved his wand and Harry's cloak flew off. The two young men stood there watching each other, both waiting for the other to make a move. Harry was frozen while trying to make his mouth say what he wanted to say and Draco was positively seething.
"What the fuck do you want, Potter?" the blonde asked through clenched teeth. "Come to laugh at me for last week? Or perhaps you'd like another go?"

Harry shook his head, finally finding his voice. "No, no! I came here to –"

Draco didn't give him a chance to speak. He fired a curse at Harry, who dodged and ran around a pile of junk. "Come on, Potter! Don't be a wuss!" He had a feeling that he was being overly dramatic, but it had actually hurt that Potter of all people wanted him dead, especially after he caught Draco sobbing in that bathroom after Katie Bell's return. He was so fed up with everything that was happening with his life, and the people in it who thought they knew everything. The people who believed the war was so goddamn black and white that they couldn't see anything past their own shot a curse directly into the tower Harry was hiding behind. It exploded, forcing Harry to run.

Harry's heart was pounding. He should have expected this, but his heart had hoped that he would apologize and Malfoy would... well, he didn't know. But he hadn't wanted this, and now he was panicking because there was no easy way to escape. He was trapped. "I don't want to fight you, you idiot!"

Draco snarled as his eyes caught Harry's again. "Like I'm supposed to believe that!"

"I didn't know what that spell did!"

This made Draco pause. 'What?' That changed a lot, but it didn't make him feel better. If anything, it made him he wouldn't believe something like that because it's easy to lie with that excuse, but for some odd reason, he actually believed Potter this time. And Potter was no coward, so he would have no reason to lie. "You… used a curse on a person… without knowing what it did?" he asked quietly, rage bubbling, threatening to spill over again.

Harry felt intensely guilty and ashamed, but he had to get this out. He had to explain. He didn't want Malfoy to believe he wanted him dead. "Yes. It was in one of my textbooks, an old one that has a bunch of handwritten notes in it. I wasn't thinking. I was angry about Katie and I saw the look you gave her when she came back so I assumed it was you who cursed her – I lost control."

Draco was shaking with fury. "So you thought you'd try out a spell you'd never heard of on me."

Harry looked at the ground briefly, then back at the blonde. "… Yeah."

"That almost killed me."

Harry bit his lip and said nothing. His voice was caught in his throat and he felt put on display. Vulnerable.

"And you want to, what, exactly? Say you're sorry? Tell me how badly you feel about it?" There was a hysterical laugh that almost left Draco's throat but he caught it in time. Still, it was there in his tone, barely visible beneath his mask.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. I do, I am. I didn't mean to hurt you like that -"

"Oh cry me a bloody river," the blonde spat venomously. Harry blinked in shock. "You don't give a shit about me. You're only sorry because your conscience can't handle what you have no idea what this war is really about, what's really going on out there, how many people are being needlessly killed, or what your friends are even up to. You don't give a real shit about anyone but yourself. You parade around pretending to be this fucking saint who loves everyone and wants to save the world, but inside, you're only worried about yourself. Always watching your own back, carelessly wandering through life while everything is handed to you, and throwing tantrums when things don't go your way. Well I hate to break it to you, Potter. The world doesn't revolve around you."

Harry's shock turned to a slow burn anger, which grew volcanically until he exploded. "YOU THINK EVERYTHING IS HANDED TO ME?!" He felt satisfaction when Draco looked taken aback. He advanced on the blonde with his wand still out and poised, ready just in case. His breathing was labored, heavy. He felt a panic attack coming on from the memories Malfoy just forced him to relive. He no longer felt trapped, but this was much, much worse. "I do watch my back, yes, but did you ever, even once, stop to think about why?"

Draco stood his ground and opened his mouth to retort but Harry didn't let him.

"I grew up with muggles!" he seethed. He didn't know why he was telling him this. Maybe part of him wanted someone to know. Someone other than Hermione and the Weasleys, who didn't even know the surface of what the Dursleys did to him. He was sick of the world believing he grew up with a silver spoon in his of everyone thinking he always knew about his parents and that he was a wizard. Of people pinballing about whether they loved him or were afraid of Malfoy constantly on his case about having a perfect life. "I didn't even know I had magic until Hagrid forced a visit on my aunt and uncle BECAUSE THEY HAD BEEN REFUSING TO GIVE ME MY HOGWARTS LETTER!"

He needed to calm down, or this panic attack would become full blown and he could not let that happen in front of Malfoy. "You know nothing about me, Malfoy. I could say all these awful things I think about you but I won't, because I know nothing is what it seems on the surface. But what's on your surface tells me that you're an egotistical, arrogant, holier-than-thou, cold-hearted son of a bitch who worships his mum. But that would NEVER make me want you dead."

Clearly Draco hit a nerve. He had never seen Potter this enraged. He subconsciously went to take a step back but stopped himself. He stood still and let Potter advance on him. The brunette screamed and raged, but it wasn't one of his normal anger spikes. This was more serious. Why would he need to watch his back? Muggles? Wait, Harry Potter grew up with muggles? Muggles who didn't tell him who he was, and who had tried to keep him from going to school. How he had been so wrong about Potter, he didn't know. He just assumed that all this time, Potter was a drama queen who ached for attention. But there was something not quite right about what the Golden Boy had been saying. Something felt off. Warning bells were ringing in Draco's head. But before he could process any of it, Harry dropped a bomb. Son of a bitch. He hadn't been talking about Draco's actual mother, but that didn't matter to the blonde. It was a trigger for him anyway. Draco let go of his wand and swung.

Before Harry knew it, Draco's fist connected with his face. He dropped his wand and stumbled backward. Momentarily dazed, he shook his head and dodged another punch. That may have hurt, but Vernon and Dudley have been hitting him his whole life. He was used to it, and Draco wasn't as strong as they were. He launched himself at Draco, wrapped his arms around the blonde's middle, and sent them sprawling to the floor. This was exactly the kind of distraction Harry needed to knock the panic attack out of his system. They punched and rolled around but it didn't last long. All of a sudden, he was on his back being pinned by Draco with one hand on his chest. Draco's other arm cocked back with a fist ready to fly at his face, but all Harry saw was Dudley. Flashes of Dudley pinning him down, pulling his jeans off, and turning him over raced through his mind. It triggered Harry's freeze mode. He flinched, stopped struggling, turned his head to the side, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Draco was both taller and stronger than Harry. He had been able to take over quickly, having had many lessons in hand-to-hand combat. He drew back to hit him – but then Potter flinched. Up until that point, Draco wanted to hurt him. He wanted to beat the ever loving shit out of him. But this was a sign of abuse. He froze with his arm still in the air, all traces of anger gone from his face. Was this what Potter meant by nothing is what it seems on the surface?

Harry opened his eyes. This was Malfoy, not Dudley. He had to remember forced himself to. He focused on steadying his breathing and studying Draco's face. That would help. He took in those grey eyes, the angular face, the blonde hair. His flashback subsided. But with that came an unwelcome feeling. Arousal. He always thought Draco was beautiful, but that never got in the way before. It never took over his senses, never made him hard, never gave him the desire to kiss him. Harry's anger came roaring back. Draco could not know about this. So Harry needed to goad him into hitting him again. "Why'd you stop?! HIT ME!"

But Draco got off him and stood. He walked over to his wand, picked it up, and sheathed it.

Harry shot off the floor and stalked over to him. He grabbed Draco's arm, spun him around, and shoved him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! One minute you're attacking me, the next you're walking away?! Fucking finish what you started!"

But Draco knew abuse all too well and refused to take the bait. "No."

Harry was so confused. And his panic attack was back to suffocating him. So he did the only thing he could think of, and put his foot in his mouth. "Hit me, you goddamn unbalanced ferret!"

Draco stilled. He had every intention of walking away, he truly did, but the ferret comment struck a cord. Being bounced around as a ferret was the most humiliating moment of his life. So fuck it. It wasn't his responsibility to be sensitive about Potter's abuse. So he whirled around and back to brawling they were, though there was more wrestling this time. More of a struggle, and less hitting. It didn't take long for him to wind up on top again, but this time, Harry was on his stomach with his arms pinned at his sides. "Don't. Call me. A ferret."

He should have let Malfoy walk away. He wouldn't have been caught in this predicament if he had. He didn't understand how Malfoy was so heavy and strong when he didn't look it. His heartbeat sped up. On one hand, he was glad he wasn't on his back because the git would most likely notice how hard he'd been. On the other hand, if he was on his back, he wouldn't be having a full blown panic attack right now.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Visual and physical flashbacks were wrecking his mind and body. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He was completely at Dudley's mercy. Except, that wasn't Dudley's voice calling his name.

"Potter. Potter." But the Gryffindor didn't seem to hear him. Draco let go of Harry's arms, but Harry didn't use them to post up and move away from the Slytherin. He pulled them around his head, the crook of his right elbow covering his face. He was rigid, every muscle contracted in what Draco recognized as fear. Erratic breaths wracked Potter's body. Draco shifted so he wasn't sitting on him anymore, but it didn't help. "Potter, listen to me. You're having a panic attack. I'm not going to hit you. I won't attack you. You need to sit up and breathe."

Harry barely heard those words, but they did penetrate. He felt such intense humiliation that this happened in front of his nemesis, and it brought his self-hatred to the surface. "Fuck… off…" he managed, now vibrating with the effort it took to keep himself from bursting into migraine-inducing sobs.

"No."

Malfoy's tone and the strength of it actually brought Harry a little out of the attack as it gave him something to focus on. "Please. Please go," he whispered. Pathetic, he thought.

"No. This isn't something I'd hold over anyone, Potter. Ever. Not even you. Now sit up and breathe."

Those words also helped, but they also brought on the tears he'd been holding back. He felt a strong hand press on his back and another pull his legs to the side, one by one, bent at the knee. He was being pulled up against his will. He kept his head bowed so the blonde couldn't see his face, contorted in fear and sweaty from the exertion of trying to force the attack away.

"Good. Concentrate on breathing."

Why Malfoy was praising him when he did nothing, and Malfoy had done everything, was a mystery to Harry.

"Potter, whoever hurt you, I'm not them. I'm not like them. Now breathe."

Except Harry suddenly realized that he couldn't breathe. He shook his head and whispered, "I can't."

"Yes, you can. Maybe not right now, but you can. Keep trying." He felt awful for triggering a panic attack even though he never meant to, and never would intentionally. This trumped any of their history together. All of their fights, even sectumsempra. He gently took hold of Potter's left hand with his right, but as he expected, the other boy pulled it away. "It'll help. Let me?" When he didn't receive a response, he slowly took the hand again, turned it over, and pressed his thumb to the pulse point on the Gryffindor's wrist.

Harry never cut on that part of his arm, so it's not like Malfoy would find out about it. What harm could it be to let his curiosity take over for a bit and let the blonde do whatever he was trying to do? So he let him. Not that he was lucid enough to really fight him on it.

Draco almost praised him again, but he firmly reminded himself that he reserved frequent praise for his subs. He couldn't turn off his Dom switch, which had been triggered by this, but he could control what he said and how he spoke. "Focus on the pulse and the pressure, nothing else." He didn't comment on the tiny wet spots on Potter's jeans.

Very slowly, Harry started to feel the weight on his chest fade. His ability to breathe steadier, deeper breaths came trickling back. But then, in seeped humiliation. "Why?" His voice was just above a whisper. He wasn't fully out of the attack yet, but at least he could breathe. And he was begrudgingly grateful for the Slytherin.

"Because I'm not a holier-than-thou, cold-hearted son of a bitch." Despite the wording, Draco's voice was gentle and held no hint of malice or anger.

Guilt stabbed at Harry's heart. "I know you're not."

"Coulda fooled me."

Harry seemed to shrink into himself and started chewing lightly on his lower lip. "I really am sorry." That he did whisper. He meant for sectumsempra, and Malfoy seemed to understand that.

"I know."

That surprised him enough to lift his head and look at Malfoy for the first time since just before he was pinned to the floor again. "… You do?" Harry's voice came through, this time; confusion and intrigue winning over guilt.

The blonde raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'Really? You're questioning that? Shut up, Potter.'

Harry's gaze and head fell again. "Sorry." Then, to his utter horror, a fresh batch of tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks, onto his jeans and the floor.

Draco sighed. He didn't know what more to do, but Potter clearly wasn't through the attack so he kept his thumb on the Gryffindor's wrist as they lapsed into silence. The only noises for a while were Potter's sniffs and their breathing.

"If you're alright now, I'm gonna… go. I don't know how to deal with this." Before Draco could explain, Harry was standing.

That hurt. Harry jerked his hand back and stood. Malfoy called after him but he barely heard it. He took a few steps toward the door before a hand grabbed his right arm, making him pause. He didn't turn around.

Draco had sighed and stood. "Potter. Wait." Then went after him. He couldn't handle this flip-flopping between them. It used to be fun, but it wasn't anymore. It had gotten too serious. Too stressful. He almost sighed in relief when the Gryffindor stopped easily without putting up a fight. Except now he didn't know what to say.

So Harry spoke, instead. "You really know how to pull someone into a false sense of safety and catapult them back out." It was raw and he didn't mean to show vulnerability, but Malfoy had just witnessed him in the midst of a bad panic attack so what was a little more for the road?

Sigh. "It wasn't false."

"Coulda fooled me."

Another sigh, this one more frustrated. "Look. We aren't built for this. This isn't fun, anymore. It's –"

Harry whirled around angrily, wrenching his arm out of the blonde's grip. "Fun? You think biting remarks and bigoted name-calling is fun?"

"No." Well, that shocked Harry right out of his anger. Draco leaned in close. "I think bickering with you is fun. But we're too hotheaded and now we're too grown up for the jabs to not be biting. We constantly misunderstand each other and fly off the handle. I know how to argue and fight with you. I know how to pull people out of a panic attack. But I don't know how to deal with you crying. That isn't an insult, Potter; just the truth. Just last week, you almost killed me."

Harry winced and clenched his teeth as guilt ripped through him about that. Again.

"Today, I triggered a panic attack. Are we really going to continue until one of us is killed?"

"While you're poisoning and cursing people, yes."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Dangerous waters, Potter." He leaned in further, close enough to see him clearly but far enough away for their eyes to not cross. But it had… unexpected results. He didn't mean to ignite arousal. He really didn't. But there it stirred, try as he might to ignore it. "Listen to me carefully. I did not do those things," he said slowly, enunciating his words. "Do not speak of what you do not understand. This is exactly what I'm talking about. There is too much animosity between us, now. Frankly, I'd rather not risk almost dying again and I think it's safe to assume that you don't want another panic attack, accidents though they were."

Harry may have still been within the long-reaching fingers of said attack, the fading edges still grasping at him longingly, but he met Malfoy's gaze with a sharp, challenging one of his own. "And yet, here we are, unable to leave well enough alone. What are you even getting at? What's the point? What do you suggest we do?"

Draco cocked his head, his curious expression unreadable by Harry. Then a smirk adorned the corners of his mouth. "Well. There are other ways of releasing frustration and tension between people who can't stop setting off fireworks when they're together."

Harry was confused. About the blonde's words but also why he was getting hard again. "What are you talking about?" He didn't know this was exactly what Malfoy meant, but his imagination ran away with ideas he thought the other boy couldn't possibly be thinking. Images of the two of them rutting against each other in various positions promptly reddened his cheeks.

Well that was interesting. "I very much want to know what's going through your head right now." He grinned when Potter's face went even redder. "But I have a suspicion."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked again, more insistent and frustrated.

Draco stepped closer, invading Harry's space. He didn't touch him, but he was close enough for Harry to feel his breath against his skin. Harry shivered ever so slightly; one of the signs Draco was looking for. "I think you know," he purred. Harry's breath hitched, and then Draco was sure. Now this was fun.

Curse his hormones. Curse his sexuality. Curse his dick and curse Draco Malfoy. But two could play at this game. "You're gonna have to show me, then."

Draco's smirk grew predatory. It was very telling that Potter chose the word 'show' instead of 'tell'. He moved his mouth along the brunette's jaw to his ear, all without touching. "You're toying with me, Potter."

Fuck. Harry was so turned on that he was practically vibrating. But he remained confident, and only then noticed that all dregs of the panic attack were gone. "What do you call what you're doing, then?" he sassed.

"The exact same thing." Harry inhaled sharply, giving Draco the sign he needed to take things further. He nipped the Gryffindor's earlobe and was rewarded with an even sharper inhale. "Going to give in?" He ghosted a hand up Potter's arm from his wrist to his shoulder. "Concede defeat to a whole different type of fireworks?"

"To you, you mean." Harry cursed the goosebumps that arose on his arms even though Malfoy couldn't see them. The only way he was getting out of this was if he either conceded defeat, which he wasn't going to do, or if he called Malfoy's bluff. Which still wouldn't necessarily get him out of this. But did he even want to? "In your dreams."

His voice betrayed how confident he had been trying to sound.

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