This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Harry lay awake at number four, Privet drive, staring at the ceiling and shifting uncomfortably every five minutes due to the large depression made by Dudley in the years he had used the bed. He chuckled to himself, no matter how much weight Dudley lost over break due to the constant ministrations of Aunt Petunia, he always seemed to come back from boarding school fatter than before. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that his cousin was supplementing his own meal plan with that of other, less hulking individuals. The Dursley's had welcomed him back, if you could call it that, with their usual stoic tolerance. Typical of his summer vacations, Harry spent most of his time holed away in his room brooding over the absence of his friends and his desire to return to Hogwarts. It had been two weeks since the end of term and Harry was still processing the events of a particular night that he knew would be ingrained in his mind forever. He could still see himself peering up through the cracks in the floorboards as Malfoy made his feeble attempt to assassinate Dumbledore. Still fresh in Harry's mind was his vindication that he had been right to suspect Malfoy, and his terror as Snape stepped in to finish what Malfoy could not. A tear slid down Harry's cheek as he felt once again the crippling loss, watching Dumbledore fly from the tower in a flash of green. In the aftermath Malfoy had slid surreptitiously down to Harry's level where they both stood locked in fear as Snape and the other death eaters fled from the tower, apparently under the impression that Malfoy had ducked out before them.

Malfoy had barely time to utter three words before Harry had hexed his face beyond recognition.

"he's not dead"

But Harry did not hear him; As Malfoy crumpled onto the floor Harry moved to stand over him, raising his wand and preparing to finish it. Never before had Harry felt such rage, not even the night that he had chased Bellatrix through the ministry. He had felt a great carnal beast rise within him, clouding his eyes with red and sparking through his body to the very tip of his wand. The windows of the clock tower buckled and burst under the pressure of Harry's rage. Taut, convulsing air had wrapped itself thickly about them, whipping their robes and hair. It was then, when Harry had been poised to utter the curse that would end Malfoy's putrid existence, that he saw it; among the many puss filled boils and growths that concealed his face, tears were streaming from Malfoy's watery eyes. They tore through Harry with an innocence and fear that he had not expected. It was as if a great wave had suddenly crested and Harry felt the anger rush out of him bodily. A great crack and a flash of light later and Harry was on his back, looking into the living eyes of Albus Percival Wolfrick Brian Dumbledore. Harry's mind had exploded with such relief that he originally thought that the small sparks of light that clouded his vision were the result of his happiness. But the latest extreme of emotion had proved to be too much for him; he had collapsed against the cold stone floor of the tower.

He had awoken as the soft afternoon light had begun to filter through the drapes in the hospital wing. He had found himself alone with Dumbledore who gently began to tell Harry the true story of what had happened that night. Draco it seemed, had come to Dumbledore not long ago confessing to everything. He told Dumbledore of the task set upon him by Lord Voldemort, and Snape's unbreakable vow. What happened then, on that fateful night, was only a farce. Draco had only feigned an attempt to murder Dumbledore, forcing Snape to step in and finish the job. What Snape did not know was that he had struck Dumbledore in the hand that had long since died, having been killed as Dumbledore destroyed Gaunt's ring. This way, Harry was told, Snape could believe he had fulfilled his vow, and would therefore be spared death. Harry had then asked what Snape would be forced to do when he found out Dumbledore had survived.

"Insightful as always Harry." Dumbledore had replied, "It is my hope that upon hearing of Draco's failure, Voldemort will revoke the task set upon him, in which case the unbreakable vow will be nullified."

Harry smiled at into his pillow when he thought of Dumbledore, the only other man Harry knew who could say that name without flinching. The rest of the term has passed by in a flash, and somehow Harry felt he had passed him exams with flying colors. He attributed this success to two things, his unbridled joy at Dumbledore's survival, and Hermione's constant study sessions. He had even managed to pass potions despite not having the help of the Half Blood Prince. He cringed at the thought that this once glorified figure had turned out to be none other than that greasy wrinkle of a man, Severus Snape. Though Dumbledore still seemed to trust Snape, Harry remained, as ever, wary of his former potions master.

Harry could hear his behemoth of a cousin wanking in the next room over and rolled over in disgust. Facing the wall now, Harry felt cold and exposed, his bare back against the darkness of the room. For a brief moment he thought of what it might be like to have someone laying next to him, filling the darkness behind him and murmuring soft as dawn into his ear. Sighing, Harry rolled over, understanding, for the first time the emptiness he felt pulling tight in his chest. Harry's friends loved him, he knew that. They had barely left his side as he lay in the hospital wing, but there was no one to fuss over him the way Hermione had when Ron lay ill from the poisoning. This reminded Harry of something else that had been troubling him; Harry had lain in the hospital bed with Hermione fluttering about him spouting nonstop study questions so loudly that neither she nor Ron had noticed Malfoy step quietly into the room. But Harry had, and he feigned sleep as Malfoy approached. Ron soon noticed the slender blond, and had risen to his feet preparing to pound Malfoy into floor when Hermione had cast impedimenta without so much has opening her mouth. Ron's mouth was unaffected by the hex and he had funneled his rage into his voice instead,

"The dark lord given you another task you filthy git? I swear, one step nearer and I'll tear you limb from limb."

Harry was had been so prepared for Malfoy's drawling tone, but instead he heard the sudden intake of breath and slow release, followed by,

"when potter wakes… tell him- tell him I'm-" the last word was spoken with intense difficulty, "sorry…"

Harry had been sure that Draco heard his gasp of astonishment, but he turned on his heals and left the hospital wing with haste. But before he had reached the door, Harry had risen from bed and roared after him,

"Where do you get off? You filthy, fucking, waste of existence!" A small part of the rage that he had felt was returning, but it fell away just as hastily he he saw Draco's shoulders slump and he heard a muffled huff as Draco slunk out of the doorway. It had been Harry's longstanding dream to make Malfoy cry, but victory was not as sweet as he'd hoped. His guilt was made worse as remembered seeing Malfoy at breakfast the next day, staring silently at his toast. He looked so alone, so desolate, perhaps even more so than Harry, who at least had friends with whom he could discuss his feelings and his fears. Malfoy, Harry thought, had not a friend in the world who understood what he was going through. Harry squirmed uncomfortably in bed, not only because of the great cavity he had been laying in once again, but because of the unusual pity he felt towards one of his greatest enemies.

"no," Harry thought "Malfoy was no longer his enemy, not really.."

He thought again of those steely eyes, those watery eyes that had been the only thing that kept him from becoming a murderer. Wincing, Harry promised himself that he would apologize to Draco no matter how hard against the grain it went. A soft tap on the window alerted Harry to Hedwig's presence outside the window. Practically leaping from the bed Harry raced to get the letter that was sure to be from Dumbledore. He had sent Harry a letter earlier that day saying that he would arrive at precisely midnight to retrieve him. Harry had wasted no time packing his things and had been pacing around his room since that afternoon. He was eagerly anticipating being whisked off to the burrow, ready to while away the rest of the summer in the company of his best friend. It is not hard to imagine then, Harry's disappointment when not only did midnight slip by, but one and two o' clock. It was then that Harry had sent Hedwig to find Dumbledore, however much he now regretted it, seeing now that it was an open display of distrust. Harry corrected himself, he was worried, not mistrustful, worried about the man who had become something of a father to Harry. And he had every right to be, given what had happened. Hastily, he began to unroll the letter and was relieved when he read the familliar slanted script.

"Dear mister potter,

Touched as I am by your worry, fear not, we will be arriving shortly."

"we?" breathed Harry, as he looked out over the misty lawn. But he barely had time to puzzle over whom Dumbledore might be bringing with him, when Harry heard a soft crack outside and the streetlights began to vanish.

Folding the letter into his robes, Harry glanced fervently around the small dark room to see if he had missed anything. Coaxing Hedwig a little less gently than she would have liked she nipped him as he shut the bars of her cage. She then began hooting noisily as he hoisted her cage over to his trunk. Harry stumbled in the darkness, knocking his trunk into the wall with a loud thump. Abruptly Harry heard his cousin cease his grunting and sit up in bed, then almost as immediately, the door bell rang. Harry cursed loudly, he had hoped to answer the door and be gone without a word to the Dursleys. Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry was opening the door before his uncle had even managed to reach the stairs. Harry could hear him grumbling and cursing as he rounded the corner. The cool misty air prickled his skin as Harry opened the door to see Dumbledore beaming at him from across the threshold. Standing shorter and somewhat behind Dumbledore stood a hooded figure, whose face Harry could not make out.

"Er, welcome sir" mumbled Harry sheepishly.

"Good evening Harry, or, I should say morning I suppose." said Dumbldore cheerfully as he passed Harry into the house. The hooded figure seemed to shuffle his feet nervously, but then hastily followed after Dumbledore, looking away as they passed Harry.

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" raged uncle vernon, his trademark vein erupting from his forehead, spittle flying madly from his fat purple lips. He had come halfway down the stairs, but it seemed, he would go no further as he was holding his arms up against his chest, as if in fear of being bitten. No doubt the other cloaked wizard had something to do with this. For no matter how powerful Dumbledore always seemed, his high heels and flamboyant robes were startling in a different way, one that never seemed to intimidate Uncle Vernon.

Dumbledore sighed, "I assume then, that Harry has once again refrained from informing you that I would be coming to fetch him this morning."

Harry felt his cheeks flush and heard the stranger give a sort of huffy snicker. With a jolt Harry knew he recognized this snicker, but could not place it. Confused, he followed Dumbldore's motions into the living room without noticing.

"I will not stand for having some crack pot wizards barging into my house in the wee hours of the morning! I've had enough!" spat Uncle Vernon when he finally managed to gather up enough courage to waddle into the living room.

Dumbledore, who had taken up a seat in Uncle Vernon's favorite chair, looked scornfully at him over the top of his half moon spectacles. Uncle Vernon was left groping stupidly at the air, as if he was trying to work his way up to saying something else. Finally, he thought the better of it a slumped noisily onto the sofa.

"Vernon dear, what's all the noise" whined Aunt Petunia as she stepped shyly into the room. Seeing Dumbledore she immediately sucked in her lips and rushed to sofa to sit next to Uncle Vernon. Her eyes bulged when she saw the hooded figure who was standing in the corner behind Dumbledore. He seemed to be peering around him, intrigued by the muggle dwelling.

"I only ask a moment of your… hospitality" said Dumbledore after a pause, "but I am waiting on another of my associates, and it is dangerous to remain outside in these dark times, you understand."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia gave weak nods of their heads, not even looking up as Dudley entered the room. Probably for the best thought Harry as he saw his cousin. He waddled in much like his father, but it seemed he was encumbered by something a little more. The hooded figure made a sound that was somewhere between a 'pah' and a guffaw upon seeing Harry's rotund cousin, who had obviously not finished touching himself and was sporting a prominent erection through his pajamas. Harry was surprised that it was big enough to poke out beyond his fat, but this thought vanished from his mind when he realized who was under that cloak.

Who else could make such haughty noises around complete strangers, muggles or not. "Malfoy " muttered Harry.

Dumbledore smiled as Dudley hastily squeezed onto the couch next to his mother. "I believe," said Dumbledore slyly "that had I taken you up on your bet, you would now owe me a hefty sum of galleons. You see, I told you the hood would make no difference in the end."

Malfoy have another haughty huff as he lowered his hood. Aunt Petunia gasped, reaching her hand to her face in shock. Malfoy was obviously not the ugly haggard warlock she had been expecting to be hidden under the hood.

"Another one of your stupid friends, eh, Potter?" snarled Uncle Vernon. Harry and Malfoy, who had briefly locked eyes, quickly looked away. Dumbledore smiled as he looked between them and said, "something to that effect, I suppose." He chuckled, and upon hearing a soft pop outside he said, "that's our cue boys."

He rose in a swift flurry of dark turquoise, then paused and summoned Harry's trunk and Hedwig with the flick of his wand. As always the Dursleys flinched instinctively at the sight of the slender piece of wood. Malfoy laughed openly now, and Harry, to his surprise, found himself smiling at Draco before they locked eyes again and Harry quickly looked away in embarrassment.

After and awkward game of who-follows-Dumbledore-first, in which there was much awkward shuffling and mumbles, Harry strode after Dumbledore with an unnatural strut in the way the the winner of this type of game often does. Rather like stepping too hard on the gas pedal after waffling at a stop sign. Dumbledore paused at the threshold of the door and looked out onto the street, lighting his wand and peering into the darkness. Seeming to decide it was safe, he stepped out into the misty blackness.

"watcha Harry!"

Out of the inky blackness Harry could just make out the bright pink tuft of hair that was Nymphodora Tonks. Harry was glad to see that she was her usual perky self, far from the state she had assumed after Sirius' death.

"Hi Tonks! Didn't think I'd be seeing you tonight." replied Harry as she moved in to hug him. She stepped back and let her mouth drop as she took in the sight of her cousin.

"I call Harry then, sir" she said warily.

Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle as Hedwig and the trunk vanished with a flick of his wand and a soft poof. He held his arm out for Draco, who took it with a sort of pained expression on his face, and with a loud crack and twist they were gone. Harry reached out his arm towards Tonks and prepared himself for the side-along apparition. He was ready for the now familiar sensation of being forced in upon himself, but was none the less happy when his feet once again touched the ground. But instead of the moist grass he was expecting, Harry felt pavement. Obviously Tonks had made a mistake, the closest pavement to The Burrow was about a mille away in the village. He hoped they weren't walking all that way, but when he opened his eyes he was met with an even more depressing reality. Number Twelve Grimmauld place leered out of the darkness at him as it expanded out of the muggle dwellings on either side. Even as he hated the damn place, Harry couldn't help but marvel at the magic of it. After seven years of living within it, the magical world still left him feeling sublime. He gave a jump when Dumbledore called his name, only now realizing that everyone else had already filed inside. As Harry crossed the threshold he was met with the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls carried by the warm air that rushed past his face. He gaped open mouthed at the changes that had been made since his last trip to the old house.

"I hope you don't mind Harry" said Dumbledore as he gestured about the now gleaming entry way, "I took it upon myself to - spruce it up a bit, yes"

"a bit?" mumbled Harry in astonishment as he looked around at the walls which had been painted a warm tan color, and the valiant owl candlebras that had replaced the twisting snakes. The floor was lined with a plush ornamental carpet that lead to the stair well, where a crystal chandelier now hung gleaming amidst the many floating candles. The dark hardwood of the house now seemed warm and deep, where as before its matted panels seemed to hiss as you walked past.

"it's- it's wonderful sir!" gasped Harry, Dumbledore beamed over the top of his glasses. He clasped his hand on Harry's shoulder and lead him towards the kitchen, past Malfoy and Tonks who stood awkwardly by the door.

If the entry hall had been a surprise, Harry could not think of words to describe the kitchen. Dumbledore it seemed, had placed an expansion charm on the long narrow room, so that it had doubled in width. The ceiling was slanted and had been replaced with glass paneling, through which Harry could see the clear night sky above. A bright candled chandelier hung over the center of the table, casting warm light on the now dark and gleaming surface. A warm, smokeless fire crackled in the corner, the mantle piece above it bedecked with roaring lions. The walls had been painted with subtly alternating shades of red and gold, a theme that continued with the chair cushions. Harry allowed himself to be guided into a chair by the fire place, as Dumbledore sat across from him, Malfoy sitting down next to him. The blond smirked at the dumfounded expression that had graced Harry's face with the enormity of it all. Never in his life had Harry thought this place could be as beautiful as it was now. He was just about to thank Dumbledore profusely when a tall blond woman passed through the curtains that Harry had assumed led to the kitchen. Narcissa Malfoy glided smoothy into the room carrying a tray of the cinnamon rolls that Harry had smelled from the doorway. His mouth fell open yet again, earning a snicker from Malfoy, who stifled it quickly with a look from Tonks as she slid in beside Harry.

"Ah, Narcissa, you got my note then?" said Dumbledore softly.

"Yes," said Mrs. Malfoy in a stifled sort of way, "but I would appreciate a bit more warning when you are going to take my son halfway across the country in the middle of the night"

"Of course, it was not my intention for young mister Malfoy to come along but I did not see any reason to deny his request." replied Dumbldore with tactful respect in his voice.

Malfoy and his mother exchanged such venomous looks that it was now Harry's turn to snicker. Malfoy turned and glared but said nothing, much to Harry's surprise. Draco was showing a starling amount of restraint today, something Harry attributed to Dumbledore's presence more than anything. There was, however, the fact that Draco had volunteered to go with Dumbledore.

Draco Malfoy had, of his own volition, come to see Harry James Potter.

Draco Malfoy had, of his own volition, come to see Harry James Potter.

Harry repeated this in his head as Narcissa began laying out plates for them all, eying Tonks warily. He wondered why Tonks had hung around, when her presence would so obviously make the Malfoy's feel uncomfortable, not that Harry cared about their comfort he reminded himself. He had just reached the conclusion the Dumbledore had probably put her up to this when Tonks leaned next to him and whispered, "its just not worth it anymore, holding grudges, not in times like these." She smiled and accepted her cinnamon roll with more enthusiasm than Harry thought natural, even for Tonks. They ate in silence, something Harry was indeed grateful for because he soon realized just how ravenous he had become with all the stress and worry about Dumbldore's coming. The cinnamon rolls were absolutely delicious, and Harry had to resist the urge to lick the frosting off his plate, something that would positively offend the Malfoys and their delicate sensibilities. It seemed that over more than six years of rivalry Malfoy had become quite able to read even the most subtle things from Harry's expression, for he smirked knowingly across the table. It was either that or Harry had been looking at the frosting with a look that rivaled the Hungarian Horntail he had fought in his fourth year. Dumbledore had been waiting for the rest to finish, and as Narcissa slowly laid her napkin next to her plate, he cleared his throat.

With a welcoming sweep of his hands Dumbledore began, "You may be wondering, Harry, why I have brought you back to this house when I am sure you would much prefer The Burrow." he paused and looked Harry in the eye, "I see that I am quite right. You may also be wondering what the Malfoy's are doing in your house-"

"Kreachure does not mind, Kreachure is happy to have the Malfoy's back in the noble house of Black." Harry jumped at the sound of the house elf's low growling voice as he came shuffling into the kitchen.

Dumbledore looked at Kreachure with a benevolence that Harry was sure only Dumbledore could have, and continued speaking. "Unfortunately it is up to Harry as to whether or not they can stay, Kreachure." turning to Harry, he peered over his half moon spectacles expectantly.

Taken aback, Harry spluttered "uh- of course, professor."

Dumbledore clapped his hands cheerily, "wonderful, now onto our second order of business. You are aware Harry, that Lord Voldemort does not take to kindly to his supporters abandoning him, as young Draco here has…"

Malfoy played with the sleeve of his robe unintentionally, and Harry noticed that Dumbledore said nothing of the elder Malfoy. Then remembered reading in the Daily Prophet that the Malfoy manor house had mysteriously burned to the ground in the night only a few days ago, several witnesses claimed to have seen Lucius approaching the house.

"Which means," Dumbledore continued "that both Draco and his mother are in mortal peril, much the same as yourself." Dumbledore seemed to wait for Harry to say something, but when he did not Dumbledore continued, "you are aware that the dementors are now fully outside the control of the ministry and are attacking wizards and muggles alike?" Again Dumbledore seemed to pause, waiting for Harry to respond.

"Yes sir" mumbled Harry in a confused manner. He had indeed been reading this in the Prophet for quite sometime, but he failed to see what that had to do with the Malfoys.

"It Is my understanding that you are particularly proficient at Patronus charms, and what's more, you have experience teaching the skill to others…" Dumbldore trailed off and looked knowingly across at Harry, who blushed at the thought of the DA.

Then it hit him with the speed of a spring trap, Harry understood why Dumbledore had brought all this up, and why Dumbledore kept pausing to look at him. Malfoy it seemed, had also reached this conclusion and had a repulsive look on his face. Harry had to give him credit for being quick on the uptake, but he too was dreading Dumbledore's request. He began to mouth his protest but Dumbledore held up his hand. The sight of the shriveled black hand caused Harry to sit back in his seat, sighed as he realized he would do what ever the old man asked of him in the end anyway. The sight of the hand seemed to have this effect on Malfoy too, who also looked defeated.

"I want you to teach Draco the Patronous charm, Harry."

Harry felt each word hit him individually like wave after wave of dreadful glass being shoved into his brain. Never in his life had Harry thought he would be forced to cooperate with that steely eyed blond. If their disastrous foray into the dark forest during their first year was anything to go by, Harry and Draco were never meant to work together, even if they weren't trying to kill each other anymore.

"You will begin lessons tomorrow, but for now I think, it is time for bed." In a great sweeping motion Dumbledore stood, and with a flick of his wand the plates had cleared. Both Harry and Draco had stood, but Narcissa and Tonks were still seated around the the table, looking as if they were about to speak. Dumbledore gestured to the both of them to follow, which they did, playing yet another game of who-follows-Dumbledore-first. Much to Harry's surprise he came out in the lead yet again; Malfoy's lack of enthusiasm was beginning to unnerve him. The Malfoy he knew would never let Harry be the first in anything without some sort of fight, and was certainly never one to waffle in any situation. Harry mulled this over as he followed Dumbledore up the steps, only just managing to stop himself from running into the headmaster as he stopped beside the room that had always been shared by Harry and Ron. He filed past Dumbledore and was once again pleasantly surprised. The dark wood paneling seemed to glisten in the light of the soft lamps set on tables beside the beds, which now looked puffy and comfortable. A magical fire crackled in the new fireplace, below the empty portrait of the old headmaster Black. Hedwig hooted happily at the sight of him, and as he turned to let her out Harry stood agape to find not only his own trunk, but Malfoy's as well. Harry turned sharply and looked defiantly at Dumbledore, who merely peered back in that innocent manner that only Dumbledore could pull of without infuriating anyone.

"Good night Harry, Draco" said Dumbledore with a nod as he swept shut the door, leaving Malfoy standing awkwardly, staring at Harry.

Harry could not remember being this close to Malfoy without trying to hex him since the beginning of their animosity. He found that, oddly enough he didn't have that desire anymore. Sure he felt wary around Malfoy, and trusted him just about as much as he trusted Snape, but he'd thought a lot about the courage it had taken for Malfoy to confess to Dumbledore and to betray Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard in history. He saw the nervousness in Malfoy's eyes, his pupils wide as his eyebrows furrowed just ever so slightly. Slowly turning back to let Headwig out of her cage he remembered that he had promised himself that he would apologize to Malfoy for his stupidness in the hospital wing. He was just about to open the window and let her out, when he thought he'd better write a letter to Ron. Hedwig nipped him scornfully a he stepped away from the window, but then cooed softly when she realized he was giving her a task. Hastily, Harry dug his quill and parchment out of his trunk and began scratching away the details of his nigh. Hedwig accepted the letter proudly and swooped out of the window looking dignified. Harry sat on the cushioned bench below the window, feeling the cool morning air on his face as Hedwig disappeared into the mist. A patch of moonlight shone through the window, as Malfoy softly called from across the room, "Could you shut that? It's quite cold."

Harry turned his head to face Malfoy as he shut the window, just in time to see Draco letting his cloak fall from his hands to the floor. Draco's bare back shone brightly in the moonlight. His pale milky skin seemed to glow as Harry followed the lines on Draco's lithe but muscular back and before he knew what he was doing, he was noticing the dark green trunks that clung tightly to Draco's slender hips. Draco turned to face Harry and he saw, with a great pang of guilt, small lines of even paler skin criss-crossing Draco's chest. Harry bit his lip as he remembered the spell that had caused them, and resolved even more firmly to apologize to him. But that was a lot easier said than done, Malfoy had already slipped smoothy under the covers and was looking determinedly asleep.

Harry latched the window closed and began removing his own robes. Despite the fire, the room was still cold enough to cause Harry to shiver slightly as he pulled the covers up and over him. He let out a small, unintentional moan as he lay back into the bed. The softness of the mattress was heavenly and Harry melted into it with another soft moan. He blushed profusely when he remembered that Draco was lying only feet away and had most certainly heard. He died a little inside when Malfoy drew in breath as if to speak.

"muggle beds that bad potter?" said Malfoy with a mix of genuine curiosity and his usual snarky tone. Harry tensed and felt the tingling embarrassment flood his face. Draco let the comment hang taut in the air, before continuing. "That was your cousin then? That fat git with the boner?"

"Unfortunately." managed Harry shakily. He could see no hidden attack in this statement, and decided it was safe to give a little more. He was going to test the waters, see if Draco would be open to a less hostile relationship. The lack of hexing aside, Draco had been amazingly polite, even when asking him to close the window. Emboldened by this idea, Harry confessed, "most nights I can hear him through the walls."

Malfoy made a startled sort of noise and then said in a hushed voice full of disgust "...wanking?" the word seemed to leave Malfoy's mouth with great difficulty as if it was clinging with a sickening stickiness.

Harry chuckled and before he even realized it, had said "sometimes, I think about doing it back, moaning just to see his face in the morning."

"Didn't think someone like you would do that, Potter." said Malfoy in undisguised surprise.

"And what would mister Malfoy know about something so deprave?" Harry said with sarcasm he reserved specifically for Malfoy. Though this time there was no malice behind his words, something Malfoy must have understood, as he giggled softly.

With a sigh he said, "you have no idea potter, no idea." He turned his head and smiled.

It was so unbelievably foreign, to be laying here only feet from the young man he had wished to kill on more than one occasion. He knew this was as good a time for an apology as was likely to come along, but he was reluctant to spoil the tenuous relationship that had only just begun to form. With a great rush he let out the breath that he had held for far too long, and felt the dark tingle at the edges of his mind. Once his breathing had restored his vision, Harry tensed, feeling suddenly full of a tingling energy, but empty at in the same instant. He clamped his teeth shut, sure that the words of apology were going to slip out without him being aware of them. His back arched and he rose slightly out of the bed, as if some invisible force was trying to pry the words from his body. This was all a ridiculous mental battle of course, Harry admitted to himself. Yet hey lay tormented for another five minutes before finally breathing out into the dark stillness.

"Malfoy ?"

The words slipped out into the inky blackness, hanging in the void between them. Perhaps Malfoy had fallen asleep thought Harry with mixed relief and disappointment. Harry closed his eyes, eyes that had been threatening to burst from his head in his anxiety. Sighing, he leaned back into the absolute comfort that was his bed. The weight of his blankets pushed him down into the soft mattress, where he lay feeling the exquisite warmth that brushes the back of one's neck as sleep begins to take hold. He realized that Draco was not sleeping, and was in fact holding his breath in anticipation of Harry's words. This thought passed through his mind without the kind of importance that his waking mind would have grasped immediately. As if from a great distance he heard himself say the words he had been dreading, echoing back to him as he sank into the depths of sleep.

"I'm sorry, for everything."

He heard a vague mumbled noise from Malfoy before the darkness took him bodily into his dreams. Which were filled with the soft smile that Harry had turned to see only just in time.