"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. You heard the sentence as well as I did. Unless you can find a member of the Order of the Phoenix who is willing to take custody of you for the next two years, you'll have to spend that time in Azkaban. There's simply no way around it."

Draco stared down at his hands, frustrated. Oh, he knew Minister Shacklebolt wished he could help, but his hands were tied.

"Minister, there must be somethingyou could do. House arrest, maybe? No wand, forbidden to leave the grounds of the Manor? Please, if I go to Azkaban, I'll…I don't think I would make it out." It went against everything Draco had been taught to admit a weakness, but he was pleading for his life here. If the other prisoners didn't kill him for being a blood traitor, the Dementors would surely drive him far past the brink of insanity, where he teetered now. Either way, it was really a one-way ticket.

Draco looked up to meet the Minister's kind eyes. Shacklebolt was frowning in thought. The silence stretched for a moment before he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"I'm afraid I can't do that for you, Mr. Malfoy. Your mother is restricted to the Manor, and you're not permitted to have contact with your parents for the two year period except for Christmas. The most I can do is give you a few days to see if anyone would be willing to be your custodian. Auror Robards will fit you with a tracking cuff. If you can't find anyone within five days, we'll have to bring you in again and process you for Azkaban." Draco nodded in understanding. He thought the older man looked sad. Draco knew Minister Shacklebolt was fair, and he truly believed in the testimony Potter had given at the Malfoy family trial.

Potter. There was an idea. If Potter had believed in the change in Draco enough to speak at the trial, maybe he would be willing to take him in, too. After all, only Potter's testimony had kept the Malfoys from a family cell in the wizarding prison. In fact, Potter was the reason his mother, kind, broken Narcissa, was spared from Azkaban entirely, only restricted to the last remaining family property, Malfoy Manor. Yes, he would owl Potter.

"Very well, Minister. I understand. Thank you for everything have done."

Draco paid no attention to Gawain Robards as he fit the soft, flexible cuff to his wrist, so close that even the thinnest knife blade could not go between his skin and the grey metal. He was far too busy thinking about his plans, how to word his letter to Potter in a way that was most likely to catch Potter's attention.

-0-

Harry woke with a start when Kreacher knocked gently on his door. He sighed as he moved to open it. It had taken a week, early in the summer, to get the elf to stop popping into his room each morning, but after many curses and several knives thrown by a half asleep and startled Harry, they had agreed on knocking each morning.

"Master is to be waking up now. It is morning and Master has a special letter." The wizened elf handed Harry a sealed envelope. The only letters Harry read anymore came from people in his year at Hogwarts, the Weasleys (though Ron always brought those with him on his visits), members of the Order, and a select few others. Anything else was deemed "fan mail" and cheerfully burned by Kreacher.

"Thank you Kreacher. Are the boys awake yet?"

"Yes, Master. Winky gave them breakfast. They is waiting in the library."

"Very well, Kreacher. You may go." Kreacher popped away to clean the house, or whatever other tasks he did during the day when Harry didn't need him. Harry had never known what those were.

He turned his attention to the letter in his hands. The parchment was high quality, smooth, the dark green ink standing out starkly on the pale background. The handwriting was neat and well formed. Someone with money, then, to have training in proper penmanship. He turned it over to inspect the seal pressed into the pale grey wax. A crest. A titled family, like his, then. Slytherin colors, of course. Most of the heirs to the noble houses were sorted into Slytherin. There had been several in his year at school, not that he had known then. Most of his learning had come from his year of solitude and self-study in the year following the Battle.

Satisfied he had learned everything he could from the envelope, he opened it to find out just why a Slytherin was writing to him of all people. If it had to do with noble business, surely there were others who would be more willing to help.

Harry Potter,

You must be wondering why I am writing to you. I confess, I am wondering that myself and have come to the conclusion that there is no one else I can ask for this favor.

As it is a large favor, I would very much wish to speak with you in person about it. You need not fear that I will harm you or seek revenge, as I believe you still hold custody of my wand. I promise you I have no desire to trick or attack you.

If you believe me, please come to the Manor sometime before Sunday. I am always there.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

Heir, House of Malfoy

Harry stared at the letter. What did Malfoy want from him? He wondered at the greeting for a moment before he remembered that Malfoy had been held awaiting trial when he had become titled and so wouldn't have realized that was no longer the correct form of address. He continued to stare, lost in thought, until a shout from downstairs brought him back to the present. Hurrying through his routine morning spells, he decided to pay Malfoy a visit that afternoon. He was curious, after all. Why wait? he thought.

-0-

Draco answered the door himself, as Natty was serving tea for his mother. He was surprised Potter had come so quickly. He had expected a wait of several days at least, if not an acerbic reply telling him to sod off, but no, there was Potter, standing on his doorstep, looking like…

Merlin, like a young god.

No, Draco told himself, stop that. Malfoys do not ogle, it's unbecoming. I can't stare at him like an idiot, I have to seem like a friend and convince him to take me in and "save" me from Azkaban. So, Draco scraped his jaw off the polished marble floor and let Potter into the entry way before leading him to the parlor where his mother waited with tea, like a proper Malfoy host.

Neither had spoken a word yet. Potter had simply nodded in greeting as Draco had floundered a bit before gesturing to the inside of the house, another surprise for Draco. He had been expecting an angry demand for an immediate explanation. This silent Potter was calm and calculating, very…unPotterish.

His mother stood up in surprise when he let Potter into the parlor, but very quickly collected herself, just as any noble woman should. She held out a hand in greeting.

"Mr. Potter, it is indeed a surprise to see you here, although a nice surprise," she said calmly.

"Lady Malfoy, it is lovely to see you again as well, and under rather better circumstances." Potter gently grasped her offered hand as he bent and kissed it.

Now Draco was truly shocked. When had Potter learned pure-blood manners and the proper forms of noble greetings? He took advantage of the idle small talk his mother was engaging in to study this new Potter.

He looked much the same as he always had, Draco realized. His face, while still sharply defined, had lost some of that gaunt, starving look he had in the Battle. The rest of his body had undergone much the same change, filling out with muscle. He might have even gained a few inches in height, since he stood level with Draco now.

No, it wasn't his appearance that told Draco of drastic change, it was his bearing. He walked softly, and the way he held himself now spoke of patience and confidence. He looked around himself with gaping, noticed everything without being paranoid, and took things in without letting his thoughts play out across his face. This Potter could have been a Slytherin.

And that shocked the hell out of Draco.

His mother made a small noise of surprise, pulling Draco back into the present.

"Oh dear, your ring, I hadn't noticed! Forgive me, I have been addressing you wrongly. It should be Lord Potter, correct?"

What the hell? Draco looked at the ring, too. It was a gold band set with a large ruby, most likely engraved with a family crest, though Draco couldn't see which at that angle. The Potters', he guessed. It was unquestionably a noble's ring.

"Yes, I took my titles a few months ago, just after the end of the War. It's quite alright, I had forgotten you hadn't heard." Potter smiled kindly at his mother, barely referencing the time they had been locked away, awaiting trial.

"Titles?" Narcissa asked curiously, the question mirrored in Draco's mind.

"Yes, Potter and Black, with a few others. The goblins informed me that I'm the last scion for several Noble Houses." The faintest hint of bitterness crept into Potter's voice, but his smile stayed polite and charming. "Out of all the names and titles I have, the noble ones are the only I've chosen, and I'm very proud to carry them."

Narcissa smiled. Potter sipped at his tea. Draco wondered if someone had polyjuiced a Slytherin noble to be Potter.

"Charming as it is to speak with you, Lady Malfoy," Potter said, setting his tea down, "I'm afraid your son did ask me here for a reason beyond tea and a pleasant conversation."

"Of course, you and Draco must attend to business, Lord Potter. I think I shall retire to the gardens, and, Draco, you may find me there when your business is through." She rose, as did Draco and Potter. "I hope to see you again, Lord Potter."

"As do I, Lady Malfoy," said Potter, kissing the proffered hand once more and waiting until the door had shut behind her before during to Draco.

"Lord Potter," Draco began before a small chuckle from Potter cut him off.

"Malfoy, don't you think after all we've been through and how long we've known each other, we can dispense with titles?"

-0-

If Harry had still hated Malfoy, still wanted to humiliate him, he would have loved to hear Malfoy call him "Lord Potter," but he didn't anymore. There was too much between them already, they didn't need to add titles. If Malfoy was asking him for help, especially if it was about what Kingsley had told him, anything to make it easier would be welcome.

"Alright, Potter. I asked you to come here for two reasons. First, I want thank you for…for everything you have done for us. Thank you for testifying for my family. It saved my mother from Azkaban. She has to stay here for the next two years, but she can have visitors, and we can be together for Christmas. All of us, even my father, just because of what you said for us." Malfoy looked down, like he was afraid to look Harry in the eye. "Even I only have to spend two years in prison."

"But that's not quite true, is it?" Harry gave a small, knowing smile when Malfoy looked up quickly. "You only have to go if you can't find a member of the Order to take custody of you." He paused, but Malfoy seemed to have gotten lost in his search for words, so he continued on. "It's alright Malfoy, we're not bitter enemies anymore. If you can't find anyone else, I'll take you in. Even if we still hated each other, I would do it and try to be nice, just for your mother. I owe it to her." He smirked. "I already have custody of your wand, might as well have the rest of you too."

Malfoy seemed surprised that everything was going his way after all. Harry knew his past behavior would have made Malfoy expect something entirely different from him, but that was then. Harry was a new person now. He had to be.

"Thank you," Malfoy whispered, unable to meet Harry's eyes again but no less sincere for it.

"There are two…well, I wouldn't call them conditions, but they are things you need to know. First, I will need some help sometimes. I'm really busy and I can't do everything, I'll need you pitch in." Malfoy looked up sharply again.

"What, like housework? I'm not a slave, Potter," he said with that familiar Malfoy sneer that made Harry almost smile with nostalgia.

"No, you're not," Harry answered calmly. "It's not housework or menial labor. That's what Kreacher and Winky are for, and, no offense, but they probably cook a better meal than you could. It's," Harry huffed. "I can't really explain it right now. You'll just have to trust me that it's not humiliating or anything and that you'll understand more when you get there." Malfoy frowned.

"Alright, I guess I can do that. What's the second?"

"There are some questions you can't ask." Harry's voice went harder. "Most you'll know, because they're the same questions I can't ask you, but some you'll be burning to ask and you can't. There are some things that only I know, that I've never told even my closest friends. You'll understand when you see."

Malfoy huffed, obviously confused by Harry's wording, but eventually he nodded.

"Great. I'll go see Kingsley and Gawain this week and get everything sorted. I'll leave you here to spend time with your mother this week, since I'm not allowed to let you contact her. I'll get you and your stuff on Sunday morning." Harry rose and offered his hand to Malfoy. He wondered if the blond was remembering the train during first year too. This time it's different, Harry thought. Everything had changed, and all those years had led up to two hands finally grasped in understanding.