DPOV

As always the room was nearly empty but shining clean, the usual odors of dust and disinfectant invading Draco's senses. Orange light poured in from every direction as the sun began to set in the West and Draco walked purposefully towards his destination carrying a comically large stack of books in his arms.
Potter's bed was vacant to his surprise but when he looked around the room more thoroughly he found him standing by one of the large, open windows. Great white curtains stained orange from the setting sun gently swayed in the cool evening air, looking almost as if Potter was wearing them as a cloak.
"Up and walking, I see. About time," Draco greeted and then smiled when he noticed Potter jump in surprise.
"Y-yeah, well, don't tell Pomfrey, she insists I stay in bed," he said with a curious expression, eying the stack of books. "What's that?"
"Your homework," Draco said as he walked back to the bed and placed them neatly on the blankets.
"I'm not one of your students, Malfoy," he rolled his eyes and walked gingerly over to Draco who watched him carefully.
"Yes you are," he stated simply. "I'm teaching you basic taste."
"Taste?" Draco took the topmost book from the stack and opened it, revealing that it was, of course, an interior design magazine. "Oh, c'mon Malfoy, I'm in the bloody hospital," he whined pitifully and slumped down on the bed, careful to keep the books from toppling over onto him.
"Potter, the ball is coming up fast and I still need to make decisions."
"Yes, you do," Potter huffed, dragging his fingers through his extra-unruly hair.
"McGonagall assigned us both to this."
"You're perfectly capable of doing it yourself," he replied shortly, rolling his eyes again.
"That goes without saying," Draco agreed, knowing that under normal circumstances he would have no problem working alone; in fact, he usually preferred it. But this time was different somehow. Perhaps he wanted to make McGonagall proud? Maybe he didn't want to be alone at Hogwarts? Neither answer felt right.
"So then why do you insist on my help?"
"Besides the fact we were ordered to work together?"
"Yes, besides that."
"Do I even need a reason?"
"Considering it was your idea and you never like my suggestions, yes you do." Draco sighed inwardly. searching desperately for an excuse but none came to mind. He decided a brief portion of the truth might be an easier option than trying to lie or explain it all when it didn't even make sense to himself.
"It's insanely boring here, don't you think? The other teachers don't seem interested in much else outside their fields, and who wants to talk about herbology or whatever for a year?" He paused, collecting his thoughts while Potter sat in silence. "So I guess? There's nothing better to do. My only other idea landed you in the fucking hospital," Draco added bitterly.
"Flying was a good idea, Malfoy. My idea to try and nosedive that steeply when I was out of practice, was not," he said casually.
"You know you're nothing like what I expected."
"How so?" he asked, picking up a random magazine and flicking through it. Before Draco could answer, Madame Pomfrey came walking towards them, a tray of food in her arms.
"Supper time, Mr. Potter." She placed the tray on the bed side table and flashed Draco a disapproving look. "Mr. Potter should be in the bed, not these books," she chided before waving her wand and moving them to the floor. Forcefully she pushed Potter back down into the bed, pulling the covers over his legs and placing the tray on his lap. "I trust you can feed yourself." And just like that, she was gone again.
"That woman is like a tornado," Draco muttered, picking his books up from the floor.
"She's driving me crazy, honestly," Potter complained, looking at the tray with obvious disappointment. "Food's lousy."
"Did you want to get out of here for a while, then?"
"Wouldn't that piss her off?"
"Has the prospect of someone's wrath ever stopped you before?"
"Often, actually."
"Another surprise. But who cares." Draco withdrew his wand and soon after his books were hidden carefully inside his cloak and the food tray was gone. He threw back the covers and dragged a confused Potter out of the bed.
"Will this idea land me in the hospital for another 2 weeks?"
"Only if you have vertigo."

HPOV

His body felt like it was made of rusted gears, joints locked up and aching, unable to move freely. Harry could barely feel his legs as he sat cross legged next to Malfoy in the Astronomy tower, the sky ablaze with stars. The air was extremely cold but still now, and Harry watched the other man sit perfectly still with his legs dangling over the edge of the rickety wooden platform.
"Been awhile since I was up here," Harry said casually, watching the clouds of steam manifest in front of his face when he spoke.
"My thoughts exactly," he replied, almost distantly.
"It's a nice view," Harry pressed, watching Malfoy for a reaction.
"That's why I came up here. Wasn't really allowed to be here at night when I was a student," he shrugged.
"Wasn't allowed to do much of anything as a student," Harry agreed with a light laugh, his ribs shouting in protest. He lifted a hand to his left side tenderly, smoothing out his breathing to ease the pain.
"Still that bad?"
"It's not fantastic, no," he laughed again and had to keep from swearing. "Potions must be wearing off."
"We can go back if you want-"
"No- i-it's fine. I'll just try not to laugh."
"I really thought you would be fine by now. Hasn't it been 10 days or something?"
"Pomfrey said mending bones is one thing but, I broke so many and punctured my lung and whatever, so she can't heal me too fast or things will set out of place." Malfoy nodded in understanding, his eyes glancing down at Harry's arms.
"You cold? You're covered in goosebumps."
"Freezing, actually. This hospital issue nightgown doesn't do much against the cold." Without saying anything, Malfoy reached under his cloak and pulled out something large and handed it to Harry. He lifted it up in front of himself and saw that it was a large, dark grey coat.
"This too," Malfoy said, throwing a long green scarf onto Harry's lap.
"You just carry around clothing inside your cloak?"
"I keep a variety of things inside my cloak," he replied simply, fastening up the clip under his chin.
"Huh," Harry furrowed his brow in thought as he threw the coat around behind him and over his shoulders, noticing the ever slight scent of mint. "So you keep clothes and shiny magazines inside your clothes?"
"Beats carrying around a bag if you ask me," the other man stated plainly as he began to swing his legs. Harry nodded in silent reply, watching Malfoy's shoes glint in the half light as they moved rhythmically below them.
"Aren't you worried your shoes will fall off?" Harry asked, adjusting the green scarf around his neck. More mint.
"I have others," Malfoy shook his head and looked down over the edge at his own shoes. Black. Shining. Completely scuff-less.
"Are they in your cloak as well?" Harry snickered and then whined slightly from the pain.
"No, but, maybe they should be," he raised his impeccable eyebrows in thought and Harry didn't know if he was serious or not.
"Maybe we should play a game. I'll guess random things you might keep in your cloak and you have to answer honestly if it's true or not, okay?"
"I don't really keep that many things, Potter- it's not the 'cloak of requirement'," Harry laughed and then swore loudly before laughing again and Malfoy shook his head. "That's just embarrassing."
"Shut up, Malfoy. Alright, alright. Glasses."
"I... I don't wear glasses, so no."
"I have no idea why I asked that. Okay. Snacks?" The other man blinked and then squinted at him as if trying to read his mind.
"Is that a 'random question' or did you actually know?"
"I swear, that was a random question. Although, I never see you eat anything at dinner... do you eat snacks instead throughout the day?"
"I eat macaroons," he said while pointedly looking away from Harry, putting his hands in his own coat pockets.
"Do you have a favourite colour macaroon?"
"... Pink." Harry put a hand to his mouth to keep himself from laughing too loudly and Malfoy shot him a look. "If you tell anyone, I will kill you."
"Oh my god, who am I gonna tell? McGonagall?"
"I'm sure Weasel-bee would love to have a good laugh about it," he rolled his eyes, pouting.
"Well. True. Ron would probably find it truly adorable."
"I am not 'adorable.'"
"I don't know. Pink macaroons, fancy clothes, an obsession with interior design that verges on being erotic? Pretty cute," Harry said simply as if he were delivering some kind of inconclusive medical diagnosis.
"It's a long fucking fall, Potter," he growled threateningly, leaning over the edge just slightly to appear like he was measuring the distance.
"I know," he swallowed, sounding far more serious than he intended and Malfoy sat up straight.
"So do I." His voice was flat and his eyes evasive, staring out over the canopy of the Forbidden Forest in the distance.
"Would you have done it?" Harry asked, voice barely audible in the dead silence.
"I honestly don't know," came the reply, even quieter still.
"You should know, Malfoy- I don't hold a grudge about what happened back then." He didn't respond immediately, his expression unreadable.
"You know, it's pretty late, I have papers to grade." He went to stand but Harry caught his arm and Malfoy froze again.
"No- wait. Listen." Harry scrambled to find words he'd been meaning to say for weeks, since even before the Quidditch incident but found his throat suddenly felt like sandpaper. "I'm not so good with- dealing with? What- no. Wait. Okay. So, I know we had an impossible time in school here. trying to get along, and I thought it'd be the same now but, you've been not- completely- terrible?" Harry kicked himself mentally, suddenly both embarrassed for saying so much and frustrated that he hadn't said nearly enough. Malfoy turned to look at him, one brow raised as if waiting for him to correct himself or continue. Preferably both, probably. "You remember earlier, in the hospital wing, you said I wasn't what you'd expected? You haven't been exactly what I expected either. I remember you being so-"
"I was a cunt, yeah," he nodded decisively.
"That right there is the kind of thing I never expected to hear from you. You're still so you- so obnoxiously refined and insufferably difficult but. It's been sort of nice hanging out with you." He took a deep breath and held it, completely unsure if he'd said the right thing or just made Malfoy uncomfortable.
"You're taste is terrible, you dress like a homeless man and you apparently can't fly a broomstick anymore but as I said. You're not what I expected. I daresay Girl-Weasley's a lucky person."
"'Girl-Weasley'? You mean Ginny?"
"Yes. Girl-Weasley."
"I'm not with Ginny anymore. Haven't been for years, actually," Harry said, picking at the skin on the side of his thumb.
"I assumed...?"
"After the war and everything... the air cleared, dust settled. We realized we were only together as some kind of intimate support group and then it just wasn't necessary anymore."
"You find anyone else, then? Surely the famous Harry Potter can get himself some kind of girl within] 3 years?"
"Yeah well. I don't go out much these days..."
"So...? No one?"
"No one."
"I knew your social life was poor right now but I assumed that was just here? Because our colleagues aren't exactly what I'd call a lively bunch."
"You know, you assume a lot about me, don't you?" Harry crossed his arms and flashed a smug grin. "Alright, you did me the courtesy so I'll return the favour. Ask me anything you want."
"Who says I have anything to ask?"
"You say so, with your ridiculous and repeatedly incorrect assumptions." Malfoy huffed before lifting his legs up onto the platform. He swivelled to face Harry directly, now sitting cross legged as well.
"What have you been doing since we left school here?"
"I've been doing things in the Auror office a lot, random things for the ministry. So much paperwork, honestly, it's a nightmare."
"So is teaching."
"Well. True."
"But I meant your private life. Where do you live, what do you do in your spare time?"
"I lived in London for 18 months after Hermione and Ron kicked me out of their place, and now I'm here. I don't really do much with my spare time besides look at the interior design catalogs you keep loaning me. Before doing that I just... wandered a lot."
"I notice you do that, yeah. Alright. How did you really get a job here? And more importantly, why did you accept?"
"Hagrid asked me to take his place while he went to Romania to study dragons. He really, really loves dragons... And pretty much any creature that can kill you, to be honest. But, he begged me to take the job and I'm not in the business of disappointing my family, so," he shrugged and Malfoy gave him a look that suggested he didn't believe him.
"No other reason?"
"I needed a break from London. I needed Hermione to get off my ass... Why are you here, though? I know I asked a while ago but, I don't feel like I understand yet."
"I needed a break from France. And, possibly... needed a chance at closure?"
"Closure?" Malfoy frowned and looked down into his lap, apparently concentrating.
"Are you sober? I am way, way too sober for this," he eventually said, suddenly brisk as he unclipped his cloak and pulled out a flask.
"I should have guessed flask instead of glasses," Harry mused in mock thought as he took the modestly sized tin. Half empty already.
"Should you be drinking right now? Would it interfere with your meds?" Without giving a real answer Harry emptied the flask down his throat and then shrugged.
"Hope you have another."
"Several."

"What's your fascination with my cloak, Potter?"
"Broomstick?"
"... Yes."
"Hahaa!" Harry held out the flask and Malfoy snatched it, his nose scrunched up in annoyance. He took a large swig and when he had no readable reaction to it Harry found himself impressed. "So that's, what? 5 things I've guessed correctly, and so you've had 5 shots?"
"Yes and if we keep playing we'll both get alcohol poisoning. And die. Because you've had-... 1,2,3,4... 7 shots now- because you're terrible at this."
"How was I supposed to know you don't keep cough drops on you?"
"Because that's muggle medicine you idiot," he hissed, the smile across his face betraying any ill-intent he may have wanted to convey.

The air was still freezing, breath still turning to vapor as they walked- stumbled- across the Quidditch pitch together. Their speech was slurred and laced with laughter despite Malfoy's constant insistence that he was perpetually annoyed.
"Do you keep a cloak inside your cloak?"
"No."
"Christ-" Harry took back the flask and downed another foul mouthful, choking back tears. "This stuff is terrible."
"Yes but it's expensive."
"So why buy it?"
"If it's expensive, it means it's good."
"But it's terrible."
"Yes."
"What?"
"I don't expect you to understand my refined tastes, Potter."
"If your taste is so refined and perfect why'd you leave a place like France?"
"It was fucking boring, that's why." Harry nearly tripped over and Malfoy grabbed his shoulder, trying hard not to laugh.
"You said before you wanted closure?"
"Uuuugh don't make me talk about this," he whined, digging his nails into Harry's shoulder before pushing him over onto the ground.
"Hahah- ouch- god damn it, Malfoy-" Harry laughed, rolling on the wet grass in pain. "I'm going to annoy the answer out of you for that."
"I'll tell you if you stop getting fucking grass stains on my coat." Harry, still laughing, obeyed, barely managing to stand up on his own. "I came back here because I thought I could try and make up for the shit I did."
"Are you serious?" All humor had left Harry's face now, his eyes narrowed and focused as Malfoy looked down at his still-shiny shoes.
"No I just said that incredibly personal thing for the hell of it."
"I guess... I always just thought in the background of my mind that you would've just... let it go?"
"How could I 'let it go'? I actively tried to kill people for no reason," his shaking hand was at his forehead now, obviously trying hard to hide his expression as he spoke.
"You had a reason. You had a real reason to do it, but you still didn't want to. Isn't that enough? Isn't the fact you're trying- that you're sorry- enough?"
"Don't go all hero-complex on me, Potter, I know how you operate."
"Operate? Oh my fucking god, Malfoy don't be a prat."
"No matter how hard I try, I still have to go to bed at night knowing I attempted monstrous shit, for no other reason than to save my own ass. There's no closure in that."
"If you truly think that then why are you here?"
"I don't know!"
"Listen. I meant it when I said I didn't hold a grudge, Malfoy. Even though I figured you'd given yourself a pass on it. It was messed up, yeah? You were a fucking kid being coerced by your own family. What else were you meant to do?"
"I don't know," he repeated, hands still hiding his face.
"You saved my ass once. Ron and Hermione's too. Right in front of your family. That should count for something."
"You saved everyone's ass, repeatedly, and all any of us ever did was give you shit for it." He lowered his hands, his cheeks the reddest Harry had ever seen them. "No matter what I do or where I go, I'm marked." He watched Malfoy's hand grip his left forearm, his expression bitter and Harry left as if someone had just turned on the light. The subtle patchwork stitching on all his shirt sleeves, the day in the clearing.
"Malfoy. What have you been doing?" he pointed to Malfoy's arm as he gripped it.
"I've tried everything. It... Nothing helps."
"Is it hurting you?"
"The fact it's there at all is painful enough." Harry stood perfectly still, the moonlight reflecting off the Quidditch goals as silence replaced their conversation.
"I had no idea."
"How would you." His question was rhetorical but Harry huffed and smiled, lifting a hand up to his own face. He pushed his bangs out of the way and Malfoy watched, momentarily confused.
"It's not the same but, it's also not that different really, right?"
"Can't remove yours, either?"
"I've never really tried," he shrugged and Malfoy shook his head in wonderment.
"Never thought I'd say this but, maybe I could stand to learn a thing or two from you."
"I'm honored," Harry replied, bowing sarcastically before he gasped and stood up straight to ease the sudden pain.
"You're a fucking mess, Potter."
"So are you, Malfoy."

The next day came with a throbbing headache and countless foggy memories swimming in discord through his mind. His ribs and shoulders ached with a new ferocity as shattered conversations from the night before rejoined to make coherent sentences. Oh.
Harry took a deep breath and rolled over to find a large stack of familiar magazines on the chair next to his bed, the glossy covers glowing in what appeared to be afternoon sunlight. Why are they here?
"There was the Astronomy tower... the Quidditch pitch... oh my god- did we try to go swimming?" Harry frantically lifted the sheets and found them dry to his relief but the vague memories of cold water remained.

Afternoon faded to evening and Harry watched the clock tick by with minor anxiety. The lamps in the room were blazing now and he fidgeted with his sheets, his food tray abandoned and basically untouched. He was starved and praying that Malfoy would drop by with real food as he often had during his time here, but as minutes became hours he began to suspect there was a reason for his absence this evening. He'd spent most his time awake searching his memories from the night before for anything that may have upset the other man and sadly, plenty of potential moments came to mind. Things had gotten unexpectedly personal at several points but they had managed to recover from all the ones he could recall, but as the night went on and after his 9th shot of scotch, foggy turned to incomprehensible.
"Fuck."

DPOV

The meeting ran through most of dinner. Two students had been taken last night.
"This is getting out of hand, we've heard nothing from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons in days and there has been no perimeter breaches whatsoever," McGonagall was flustered, wringing her hands as she paced back and forth in front of her nervous staff.
"What can we do?"
"Maybe they'd be safer at home after all?"
"Should we increase patrol sizes?"
Voices whirred around the room, panic on the rise as teachers asked questions that became increasingly irrelevant. Draco felt a ball of stress digging into his stomach, making him nauseous. I should have been there. I shouldn't have been drunk. I could have prevented this.
"Draco?"
"Y-yes, Headmistress?"
"Can Potter accompany you on patrol this evening?"
"He's still injured but I'm sure he'll do it."
"Go fetch him now. Monitor the hospital wing so he doesn't have to walk too far."
Draco stood up and left, ignoring the tantalizing smell of the great hall as he passed it on his way to Potter's room.

He entered the room and found it empty except for Potter who sat peculiarly still in his bed, eyes on the clock.
"Evening," Potter jumped in surprise but gave a sheepish grin in greeting.
"Thought you wouldn't be coming."
"McGonagall called a meeting. Two students went missing last night."
"Two? How the bloody hell are so many going missing with absolutely no trace?"
"Clearly, we have no idea." He sighed, the nagging pit of stress in his stomach only worsening as he dwelled on the topic. His eyes wandered over to the bedside table and found the untouched food tray and he frowned. "Not eating again? You're going to get ulcers or something."
"Says the idiot that lives off pink macaroons." Draco fought hard not to hiss at him in disgust, instead focusing on taming the heat that had instantly crept onto his cheeks. "Actually- can I have some? I'm starving."
"Not surprised," Draco huffed and dug into his trouser pocket before pulling out a square silver tin. He lifted the lid to reveal a small stash of pink macaroons.
"You weren't kidding about these biscuits," he said, taking three from the metal box. "So, when you don't wear your cloak, do you enchant your pockets instead?" Before waiting for a reply he took a bite out of his macaroon and spoke again, his mouth full. "Also, did we go swimming last night? I remember-... water?"
"Yes I enchant my pockets and no. We didn't go swimming. The only water related incident was when I tried to get you to drink water so you wouldn't be dead by morning. You weren't overly jazzed about the idea, though... You spat water on me." As Draco said the last sentence, Potter ironically spat again, only this time it was macaroons instead of water.
"Oh- oh my god I'm sorry," his laughter suggested he was not at all sorry as he tried to recollect the soggy crumbs off Draco's navy blue vest.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He smacked Potter's hands away and withdrew his wand with an agitated sigh. After a single wave the mess was gone but the other man's laughter was not. "Get up, we have patrol this evening."
"Patrol? McGonagall knows I'm in the hospital, right?"
"We're only patrolling this wing so you won't have to walk far."
"Distance isn't the problem, McGonagall's decision is."
"Why? Are you unable to patrol?"
"No, I mean-... If she's asking an injured person to patrol it means she must be pretty desperate. How many students in total are gone now?"
"25."
"Christ." Potter lifted the covers off, still cradling his macaroons carefully. "Maybe we should just set up beds in one of the empty halls and have all students in the one place? Didn't we do that our third year or something?"
"That's not a bad idea... I'll pitch it to McGonagall tomorrow. But for now we need to do our job. Are you able to stay awake all night?"
"Yeah I think so? I slept till... like? 3pm? I was pretty hungover, I don't know if I read the clock right." Potter opened the bedside table, withdrew a pair of his trousers and slipped them on under his hospital gown. "Wait, didn't you have class today?"
"Yes I did."
"What? How did you get up for that?"
"I didn't sleep," Draco said simply with a shrug as Potter stepped into a pair of beaten black and white sneakers.
"How the hell do you intend to stay awake all night when you haven't slept in 2 days?"
"3 days now." Potter stared at him slack jawed as if it were the most outlandish thing he'd ever heard. "I'll be fine, I'm not the one on loopy potions."
"That's true, these potions do make me pretty loopy. Too loopy to teach." They left the room and entered the dimly lit corridor. "Speaking of teaching, who's been leading my classes?"
"I offered to take a couple but you've got that Grubbly-Plank woman leading it for the moment."
"Wilhelmina? Oh jeez, how is she going to teach my students about dragons?"
"She does tend to lean on the cornish pixie side of beasts and such, doesn't she? But, she hasn't changed your curriculum. They're still on track with their studies despite your absence- and the disappearances."
"This year isn't looking like a good one."
"You can say that again."
"But, we do have the ball to look forward to, right?" Draco stopped walking to look at Potter in mild shock.
"Are you saying you're looking forward to the ball now?"
"No, but. You are, right?" he turned to look at Draco and shrugged, his shoes scraping against the stone floor.
"I'm largely stressed about it actually, we still haven't figured out the sconces."
"Are you kidding- I thought you picked the ice shard ones?" Draco started walking again, his eyes scanning the darkness as he listened to Potter speak.
"I was never sure about whether or not to make them real ice or not," he insisted despite the disbelieving look on the other man's face.
"Don't make them real ice. They won't melt if they're made from glass."
"But that makes it phoney-"
"Then make them ice."
"But I'll have to keep enchanting them over and over to not melt-"
"Then get glass ones!"
"But-"
"This is insane, it's mid November, you need to make a decision."
"Alright."
"What if we made them glass but enchant them so that sublimation stuff comes off it to make it look visibly cold? You know, that cold vapor thing?"
"That... Is actually a good idea. We'll do that, then." He nodded for a moment, hands in his pockets. "But, we still need to consider the menu and which ballroom to use. Also which drapes, tables, y'know."
"Make everything twinkly and light blue. And if possible, frosted vapor glass, yes?" Potter ticked the items off on his fingers, frowning in concentration. "Also- how many ballrooms do we have to pick between?"
"There are 3, not including the great hall."
"3 ballrooms? For what!?"
"Balls?"
"Really? I wouldn't have thought of that," he rolled his eyes and Draco noticed how they seemed to glow behind his glasses in the half light. "Show me then tomorrow evening, before dinner, we'll pick one." Draco nodded in agreement and looked forward down the hall.
"5 weeks is long enough to sort the rest out, right?"
"5 weeks of you pestering me about frosted glass chandeliers is too long if you ask me." Potter seemed to realize he was still holding 2 macaroons and began to eat one of them. In the silence Draco began to wonder what would happen when those 5 weeks had gone. The ball had given them reason to hang out a lot over the last month and as much as it pained him to admit, Potter's presence had served as some kind of stress relief. He was definitely no where near as serious as he had remembered him being in school. In fact, he can barely recall a conversation they'd had back then that didn't include the phrase 'shut up, Malfoy'. Perhaps it was their drunken conversations that made Draco feel anxious at the idea of not being around him anymore. Perhaps it was just the idea of only being surrounded by old wizards obsessed with nothing but simple charms for 10 more months- he wasn't sure. But either way, he knew he wanted to keep this idiot around.
"How mad was Pomfrey when you got back in last night?"
"I can't remember anything past my... 10th shot? When I asked if you had a trampoline in your cloak."
"Why the fuck would you ask that?"
"Why don't you carry a trampoline with you?"
"So I have more room for my macaroons."
"That's so gay."

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