Issues

"Well, this isn't quite what I was expecting," Harry said quietly.

"The first time I came here I thought Severus was playing some sort of joke," Draco replied. When Harry looked at him in disbelief, he grinned and nodded. "I know. Severus doesn't have...didn't have a sense of humour. Took me about five seconds to realise that he actually did live here."

After collecting an extremely surprised Draco from the Ministry cell, covering him in the Invisibility cloak and walking calmly past the guards, they'd Apparated to a secluded place near Spinner's End. Draco had been noticeably glad to be in the fresh air and grateful to be free so he was on his best behaviour. Even though he complained profusely about the shocking clothes he was being made to wear out in public, Harry appreciated the lift in his spirits and regretted that Draco's respite from the cell was only temporary.

Standing at the top of the street, Harry looked along the row of shabby, dirty, brick houses; most of the windows were broken or boarded up, and a huge mill chimney dominated the skyline. He wondered if the very atmosphere of the street had contributed to Snape's sallow looks and disagreeable personality as, even back here in the labyrinth of houses, the smell of the river permeated everything and it felt desolate and forgotten. Harry could well understand how bitterness and resentment could build in an environment like this when faced with students that had everything money could buy.

Draco was speaking again.

"Can we go in? I know the war is over but I still feel exposed this close to Severus's place." He was a little agitated, Harry could see, but he had a point. Not every single Death Eater had been rounded up and there was a slight possibility that there could be someone here, watching.

"Are there wards?" he asked as they stepped onto the road and crossed it, walking quickly to the door of the last house in the street.

"No. Apart from some charms to keep the Muggles away, Severus never really bothered with wards. He had no need. He used to say that the day anyone dared enter his house without his knowledge was the day he deserved to be attacked," Draco replied. "You'll need to use your wand to open the door though. He never used Muggle locks."

Harry nodded, pointed his wand and said "Alohomora."

When the door opened, the smell of old musty books and decay wafted past them and they both wrinkled their noses. "I'm amazed you willingly ever set foot in this place," Harry said.

Draco immediately bristled. "Listen, Potter, Severus may not have been your favourite person but he saved my life and I'll not have you say a word against him. He was the only person, the only person, that I could trust. So you just shut up about him!"

Harry looked at him, impressed. "You really have changed, haven't you?"

Draco grumbled. "You really don't have a choice when death looks you in the face every day for a couple of years. Can we go inside now or are we going to stand on the doorstep all day?"

Harry gave him one more look, thinking that Draco had some definite redeeming qualities after all, before pushing the door open and ushering him through.

"Oh, great," he sighed when he saw that the small sitting room they'd entered was virtually covered from floor to ceiling along each wall with books. "Not quite as bad as a needle in a haystack search but not far from it." The room was dark, windowless and airless, the only light coming in from the door and casting dusty rays across the shelving.

"You don't think he'd leave it in plain sight, do you?" Draco scoffed. "It won't be in this lot. Severus would have had some secret panel or some hidden alcove where he would have hidden it."

Draco's words triggered a memory in Harry. "I remember Dumbledore asked me once where the best place was to hide something you didn't want found," Harry murmured, half to himself, still finding it hard to speak about Dumbledore. At the time he'd been talking about the Mirror of Erised but it was a true adage nevertheless.

Draco interrupted his reverie. "And...?'

"Oh," Harry said, looking around at the room. "He said the best place was in plain sight. No one expects that." Harry frowned. "There are no other doors in here," he said, suddenly realising that Snape could not have lived in this one room.

"They're hidden doors, Potter," Draco replied, moving towards the books on one wall. "There are three. One leads to the kitchen, dining area and such. Another leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms and this one," Draco said, as he indicated in the direction he was heading, "leads up to the attic. My guess is we'll find the diary up there." Draco's hands reached out to feel around the spines on some of the books, obviously searching for a latch of some sort. "Snape was too secretive and too paranoid to have left his diary where just anyone could find it. Hiding the entrance to the rest of his house is indicative of that, don't you think? Besides, I was here sometimes during the war when he could get me away from the Manor, and I never saw anything resembling a diary."

Privately, Harry thought that Draco had probably been too occupied with practicing his flirting on Snape, the thought of which made him shudder for some reason, to be worried about looking at what books Snape had lying around. But he was prepared to allow that Draco had known Snape better than he and so would defer to him on this.

After a few more minutes searching, Draco touched something that resulted in a soft click of a mechanism and a door in the wall of books appeared, sitting slightly ajar.

Harry caught Draco's self-satisfied eye and moved beside him to open the door. "Snape didn't set any traps for the unwary, did he?" Harry ventured. Draco merely rolled his eyes.

"If he didn't bother with wards, what makes you think he'd bother laying traps inside his own home?"

"I wouldn't put anything past him," Harry muttered mostly to himself, but he knew Draco caught what he'd said by the glare he threw him over his shoulder as he stepped confidently through the doorway.

The opened door revealed a short passage lit by flickering eternal globes attached to the walls, and ending in a flight of old wooden stairs. They creaked ominously as Harry climbed after Draco and he hoped Draco was right and there wasn't a trick step that was going to spring as he stepped on it.

A small landing met them at the top of the stairs and two closed doors faced them. Draco headed for the door on the left. "This is the room he used to do a lot of work in," he said. "The other one is set up as a potions room. He spent a lot of time there, too." Draco frowned, then his face softened perceptibly. "He secretly made all the potions he used to heal me in there." He gave Harry, who was quietly watching the changes in Draco's face, a quick glance before continuing. "There were things that they did to me he was not supposed to heal. Internal things that they told me would remind me that I was nothing." Draco's voice became bitter sounding. "As if I needed any further reminding of that. If Severus hadn't healed me..." He sighed. "He took risks for me and made me remember that as long as one person cared what happened to me then I was worth something." Draco's voice had softened and trailed off, full of sadness, and once more Harry felt the sympathy stir in him.

Draco turned to Harry then with a thoughtful look on his face. "And now there's you," he said softly.

And now there's me, Harry echoed him silently. When Harry had first decided to speak to Draco before the Ministry sent him to Azkaban, he really hadn't cared about what happened to him. Now, though, he found he couldn't deny it. He did care about Draco. The thought made his chest ache and Draco's piercing gaze made his heart beat faster and his cheeks heat up. It was such an unexpected feeling that he wasn't sure what to do with it. Admit it out loud and leave himself open for that Malfoy mockery he was used to? Harry felt, though, that Draco had moved past that; they both had. Besides, actions spoke louder than words and Harry knew his actions over the previous few days had been anything but those of someone who didn't care.

Draco was still watching him and his stare was unnerving, but he couldn't think clearly enough to drag himself away from it. Draco saved him the trouble by blinking and looking down, but not before Harry saw what looked to be real regret in his eyes.

Clearing his throat and feeling relieved he'd escaped revealing that he'd formed some sort of emotional attachment, Harry indicated the door they were standing in front of. "So, this was like his office or something?"

Draco opened the door as he nodded, and they stepped inside. Harry sighed as once more he was faced with walls of books. "Hermione would have felt right at home here," he said. "Would you mind if I asked her to come and look at all these one day?" He wasn't sure why he was asking Draco for permission; it just seemed like the right thing to do.

Draco shrugged. "It's not my place to say yes or no, and he's dead now, so having Granger go through his books won't make a scrap of difference to him."

Harry moved into the room properly. "Do you know if he had any family to leave all this to?" he asked, approaching an old scarred desk in the center of the room.

Draco shook his head. "No, I don't think he had any living family left."

Harry looked up. "Then as you were the closest to him, you have more right than anyone to say whether or not someone can come through here."

"Thanks, Harry," Draco replied and Harry could see that he was gratified. "I have no idea if he even left a will. What will happen to all this if he didn't?"

"You'd know more about that than I. I was raised a Muggle, remember? No idea about wizarding law or tradition or anything." Harry sat down at the desk and opened the top drawer.

"Ah, yes, how could I forget that?" Draco smiled shortly. "But even if he did leave a will, I doubt he would have left this pile of falling masonry to me. He hated it here and I don't think he would have wanted to see me here. Besides," his voice quieted, "I don't think he expected me to survive for very long."

"Draco..." Harry started and made to rise. This sad Draco was unsettling him and making him want to offer comfort. It actually made him wish for the flirty Draco back. He at least knew how to handle that one. Sort of.

"No, it's alright, Harry," Draco stopped him. "It's just hard being back here and realising that it's all over; that he's gone and..." He broke off and turned to the bookshelf closest to him. "It's not really over, is it? Not until we find that proof."

Harry shook his head. "Not for either of us." Damn, he'd spoken before he thought about it.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

Harry sighed and debated just how much he should tell Draco about what was happening. He'd held back from telling him about Coghill before now but Draco had a right to know what was happening, especially if he was going to remove him from the Ministry cell each day to help search. Draco was in as much danger from Coghill as Harry was. He finished searching through the drawers for the diary while he contemplated how to tell Draco, and when he stood up it was to see Draco's concerned face looking at him.

"Well?" he pushed.

"I had the men who beat you up transferred to other duties, away from where they could do any more damage," Harry started. "The big one, Coghill, decided that I ruined his life by wrecking his career and has gone into hiding with the express purpose of finding a way to make me pay for it." Harry tried to retain a casual air when he spoke of it but then the things that Coghill had been doing made him annoyed all over again and his voice reflected that.

"He's been following me around, planting rumours in the newspapers about you and I being more than old school acquaintances. Last night he hexed a chandelier to drop on my head at the Ball. That's why I came to see you with blood on me; the shards of crystal went everywhere. Then when I finally arrived home, my flat had been ransacked and destroyed."

"He's after you because of what you did for me?" Draco asked in a small voice.

Harry moved around to the front of the desk. "I think it's more that I wrecked his life, according to him, not that it was anything to do with you. You all right?" he asked, concerned as Draco leant against the bookshelf and sank to the floor.

Draco nodded. "What else?" he asked hoarsely, a look on his face that Harry could only interpret as shocked.

Harry continued and told Draco all about the push to ban of the use of Veritaserum, about Sully and how he'd taken him to see the people in the hospital and how it had been the catalyst for him deciding to get Draco out of the cell for a time. He told him how he felt seeing those poor people bound and tied up having lost their minds and how he couldn't in all good conscience let that happen to Draco.

Draco sat staring at Harry as if he'd grown another head. "Why on earth would you do all that for me?"

"Don't get too carried away. I would have done the same for anyone. It was the right thing to do."

"I don't think you quite realise just what you've done." Draco stood and walked towards Harry, smiling at him. A real smile, one that made his eyes light up and reanimated his still gaunt face, which was a thing that Harry had rarely seen on Draco Malfoy's face

"What is it that I've done?" Harry asked, surprised that his voice sounded so steady, as the fluttering in his chest had made itself known to him again when Draco drew near.

"I can count on one hand the number of people that have cared enough about me to stand up for me," Draco began, coming to a stop right in front of Harry. As he spoke, Harry held his breath, unsure as to just why Draco's voice seemed to be coming from further and further away.

The back of a warm hand caressed his cheek and he jumped but was unable to pull his gaze away from Draco's eyes. "And there are even less who have been prepared to put their lives on the line for me, Harry."

"Draco..." Harry tried to say, but it came out a whisper. Draco really had very pretty eyes, he thought, swallowing hard because this was uncharted territory for him; he'd never even thought he might find aspects of a male attractive, arousing even. Yet, here he was, Draco Malfoy standing so close that he could almost feel his body heat and looking at him as if he'd like to kiss him.

And Harry thought he might let him.

"Shh, Harry," Draco breathed, turning his hand to cup Harry's cheek and letting his thumb brush across Harry's lips. "Only you."

The words were like a bucket of cold water washing through him. They were too much, too similar to the words he'd heard in his dream... "I only ever wanted you, Harry..." Harry's fear must have shown on his face, for Draco frowned and looked seriously at him for a few moments, before an intense look of sorrow clouded the eyes he'd thought pretty only moments ago. Then, resolute, Draco took Harry's face in both of his hands and held it close to his own.

"I'm going to say this once, Harry, and I will take a wizard's oath if you require it." Harry could see that he was determined by the set of his jaw. This close it was hard to hide anything from each other; it was oddly intimate, especially seeing as they were of a similar height. Draco continued, his breath warm against Harry's face. "I know you don't believe me when I say that I find you extremely attractive. I know you think it's all an act." Draco's eyes skated over Harry's face and the sadness in them made him blush under the scrutiny. But soon those intense grey eyes found his again and Harry barely had time to wonder why he could find nothing to say, when Draco released his face and stepped back. "There's nothing I can do to make you think otherwise, but for what it's worth, I promise that I will always tell you the truth. It's the least I can do for someone so..." Draco's voice finally caught and he turned away. "It's the least I can do."

Harry could breathe again now that he was not the focus of all that intensity and he had time to realise that Draco had misinterpreted his look of terror. But he could no more tell Draco the real reason for that look than he could bring Snape back from the dead to clear Draco's name.

"Draco, I..." Harry stopped. He had no idea what to say. He wondered at this uncharacteristic hesitation and uncertainty. In all their previous meetings he'd had been calm and in control but, right now, he wasn't sure what to do or say that wouldn't come out all confused. Or sound like an invitation.

The only thing he was sure of at this point was that Draco looked so sad and it was because of him.

"I think we should start searching in here," Harry said finally, thinking that it was better if they stuck to why they were there in the first place. Draco would get over this little crush, which was surely the result of Harry saving him when he defeated Voldemort and then being willing to stand up for him. Gratitude incorrectly identified as attraction was all it was. Draco would hate himself when he realised.

***

For the rest of the day they searched that room, Harry casting Detecting spells over the walls to see if there was any hidden crevices or nooks in which to hide something as precious as a diary. After the first excitement when one of his spells revealed a hidden space, which turned out to be empty, they grew less and less enthusiastic and by the end of the day, Harry was sick and tired of books. He'd cast so many Revealing spells on the books that he felt quite drained. Draco had spent the day pulling books from the shelves and opening them, flicking through to check on their contents and he looked just as drained as Harry felt.

As the room began to darken, Harry's stomach reminded him that they hadn't eaten all day. He slumped down on a hard wooden chair behind the desk, disgruntled at their lack of success. He was trying to stay positive, as this was only the first room they had searched but he was tired and their conversation had been strained since Draco's earlier promise.

"I think I've had enough for the day," Harry said, watching Draco restack the last books back onto the shelf. "You look like you're about to drop," he added, when Draco literally fell into another chair.

"I don't want to stop, I want to keep looking until I find that blasted thing," Draco replied defiantly, but Harry detected the hints of exhaustion behind his words. "I could use some food though," he added.

Harry nodded. "Me too." He removed his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. The dust from the books had settled on them making them harder to see through. "We have a choice. I can call Kreacher to bring us some food or we can go out to eat. It shouldn't be hard to find somewhere Muggle where you won't be recognised."

Draco yawned and stretched as Harry put his glasses back on and he caught just the end, conceding that Draco even stretched gracefully. Inexplicably, he was being drawn closer and closer to Draco. And he wasn't at all sure he minded anymore.

"Normally, I'd jump at the chance of eating in a restaurant, but not wearing this outfit, Potter." Weasley hand-me-downs were obviously not Draco's preferred style of clothing, and Harry almost retorted, but he saw Draco's tired face, smirking at him. One of the new smirks, with the smiling eyes. Harry just shook his head, wryly amused.

"I think I'd rather eat here," Draco said, more seriously. "I'm in desperate need of a shower and some decent clothes but the most important thing I need right now is food. And if you plan on taking me back to the Ministry cell, I'd rather not go back hungry. Their food isn't complete pig swill but it's not far off it, and doesn't even come close to Mrs. Weasley's cooking. I don't suppose we could get some more of that stew?"

"Alright, I'll call Kreacher," Harry agreed. "In the meantime, you could always shower. I don't suppose Snape would mind if you used his shower."

"I might," Draco nodded. "At least I'll feel cleaner, even if I can't change out of these...clothes."

"Well, I'm sure you could find something of Snape's to wear," Harry ventured. He didn't think he would like the choice of Snape's wardrobe but Draco wasn't really in any position to be too picky.

"That's a point," Draco conceded, lifting himself out of the chair.

"Any preferences for what you'd like to eat?" Harry asked, joining him. "Apart from Molly's cooking, that is. I don't think she'd take kindly to me feeding an escapee."

"No, I'll let you choose. Just something light and not too rich," Draco replied, leading the way down the stairs.

"So, no rich, thick creamy pasta sauces, then," Harry said, teasingly, knowing full well why Draco would want some plain food. It felt good to be able to tease him, though, without it turning into an argument, despite the lowering of their spirits due to the unproductive day they'd had.

"Not unless you want a repeat performance of the other day," Draco replied, throwing Harry a narrowed look over his shoulder as they entered the sitting room once more.

Harry laughed smugly and shook his head, but then shocked himself completely by remembering the clinging hug he'd received from Draco that day, with a slight pang of longing. Did he want Draco to hug him like that again? Like his very life depended on him? Were the things Draco had always said about him true? That he enjoyed all the adulation and the hero worship; did he always have to be saving people because he wanted their gratitude? Christ, in just a few intense days, Draco bloody Malfoy had managed to confuse Harry like no other person had ever done.

"Right, well, I'm off to shower," Draco said, having found the latch on the bookshelves that opened the door through to the bedrooms and bathroom. "You could always come with me, you know," he added, smiling. "I'm sure you managed to get yourself all dusty today."

"Err...no, I'm all right, thanks," Harry replied, blushing slightly.

Draco sighed dramatically. "Oh, well, you can't blame a bloke for trying," he said, shrugging, but the humour was clear to see in his eyes.

"Go and have your shower, you prat." Harry scowled playfully, oddly flattered, even though he knew flirting was what Draco was best at. Despite that, he still liked it. If one of his other 'fans' had offered the same thing, Harry knew he'd be slightly repulsed by it. So, perhaps there was nothing to his theory of only being a hero for the gratitude then, after all. Perhaps it was because it was Draco that he liked it.

Draco gave him a little flirty wave over his shoulder as he flounced off to find the shower and Harry sat down on the threadbare sofa, calling Kreacher. When he'd requested the elf to bring both of them some plain chicken, rice and steamed vegetables, along with fruit and yoghurt, coffee and juice - and ordered him to reveal his whereabouts to no one - he sat back tiredly to wait.

So much had happened to him in the past few days that at times he found it hard to comprehend. It seemed to be one thing after another, barely giving him time to process one thing before another was flung at him. He supposed, in one way, it was a good thing he'd not been given time to think or he might have acted in a different manner. He knew that he was best flying by the seat of his pants. He wasn't always right but he felt that when he had time to plan something out, his biggest flaw was that as soon as his plan was deviated from, he felt lost, took too long to adjust and ended up in more trouble than when he'd started. Going with his instinct had served him well so far, so why change it now?

As his mind relaxed a little, a list appeared to form in his head. He needed to have some secure way of contacting Hermione, Ron and the twins. He didn't like being out of contact with Fred and George, especially now when Coghill had made his intent clear. Hopefully, they could come up with something appropriate. He could see Ron and Hermione tonight after he had delivered Draco back to his cell. The Glamours he'd cast over the door to the cell weren't permanent so he had no choices in that regard, unless he wanted to throw his life away completely and spend it on the run with a wanted Death Eater.

Not a comforting thought, nor an option.

Which brought him back to thinking about Draco. And that dream. Had there been some latent attraction to Draco that manifested itself in that dream? Disgusted as he was by his part in the dream, he knew what he'd done was nowhere near the worst Draco must have been through. So, some of it at least must have been the subconscious desire to see himself and Draco in a sexual situation but, having no real understanding of boys in that regard, he'd latched onto Draco's experiences. Did that even sound reasonable? It felt more of an excuse than a reason, but he definitely had no desire to abuse Draco sexually...or maybe the fact that he'd been angry with Draco, combined with some denied attraction, was what caused the violence of the dream...

Harry sighed as Kreacher popped back with their food, carefully heated with Warming Charms. He really had no idea what the dream meant; nor could he fully understand why there was a part of him that did care for Draco. Confusion seemed to be the consistent stream of his thoughts when he thought of Draco. He stood and headed towards the sounds of running water to tell Draco that their meal was there, deciding to put any confusing thoughts away for now and think on them when all this mess was over.

Snape's bedroom was no surprise. Spartan yet shabby was pretty much as he expected. The mean narrow bed was pushed against the wall and into a corner as if to give its occupant some protection. The covers were old and there were places where the stitching was coming apart. The cover on the flat pillow was grubby and grey and Harry scrunched up his nose at the sight. The man was no doubt a genius Potions master and had been instrumental in winning the war but his personal habits left a lot to be desired.

This private part of Snape's life was something that Harry felt was no business of his and it made him feel awkward and uncomfortable just being here, as if he was somehow intruding. He half expected at any minute Snape would appear and look down his nose at him and say "Get out!" in the same tone he'd spoken to him back in fifth year. He half hoped that Snape would appear, ghost or real. They could ask where he'd put that damned diary then.

He walked over to the door and rapped on it, calling "Draco, dinner is here."

Hearing Draco's muffled reply, he turned to leave the room and saw a photo in a large frame placed on the dresser. It caught his eye because it was a photograph of his mother. Harry stood and stared at it incredulously. What was a photo of his mother doing on Snape's dresser? From what Harry knew, Snape hated Lily Evans, so why...? The vivid images of Snape's Penseive memories came back to Harry, and he saw the scene where Lily had tried to help Snape and saw the derisive way Snape had spoken to her and called her a Mudblood. Frowning, Harry wondered if that had all been a smokescreen. Had there been some real feeling between his mother and Snape? Was that one of the reasons the potions master had hated Harry so much?

He picked up the picture and blew the dust from the glass so he could see the picture more clearly. It had obviously been taken in school, because Lily was wearing a Gryffindor uniform and she looked to be about fourteen or fifteen. Harry smiled sadly at the picture that was smiling and waving back at him. She would have no idea who he was, naturally, but he felt better telling himself that she did.

He was still looking at the picture when Draco returned from the bathroom and stood beside him.

"That's your mother, isn't it?" he asked softly, and Harry nodded. "She was very pretty," Draco added. "You have her eyes, Harry."

"If I had a Galleon for every time someone said that, I'd be as rich as Dumbledore," Harry responded, a slight smile on his face. He turned to look at Draco. "I always thought he hated my mum. Did he ever mention her?" he asked, meaning Snape.

"Not a lot, no," Draco said. "I asked him once why he kept this picture on his dresser. He told me that it was to remind him that not everything is as it appears on the surface. I didn't know it was your mum at the time but when I said she had your eyes, he told me that he'd known her when she was a child. I gathered then that he had some deep emotional attachment to her."

All those years, Snape had known his mother and never once mentioned it; never once offered to tell him about her. Harry had so little knowledge of his mother and what he did have was of her time at Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia had never deigned to tell him anything about her life before Hogwarts. He wished he'd known about Snape and his mum; it might have made their antagonism toward each other a little less virulent somehow.

Harry's eyes drifted back to the picture, smiling at Lily, who had been standing watching the two boys speak. She raised an amused eyebrow at them and made laughing kissy faces, pointing at the two of them. Harry blushed and almost groaned out 'Mu-um', but then he remembered she was only a teenager in the photo and had no idea who they were. He placed her back on the dresser, regretfully. He'd have loved to take the picture with him, but it didn't belong to him; somehow it belonged here in this sad house with the memory of the hero that had lived here.

When he turned back to Draco, he noticed that he only had a towel on, slung low over his bony hips. He rolled his eyes and ignored Draco's amused response to Lily's childish teasing, which consisted of puckering his lips. "Go and get some clothes on so we can eat dinner," he said. "I'm starving."

Then he beat a hasty retreat back to the sitting room, hearing Draco's delighted chuckle and the word "chicken" taunting him as he left.

When Draco came back into the sitting room he was fully dressed in a set of austere black robes. Harry assumed that was how Snape dressed all the time and the colour actually suited Draco, although it made his slender body, already malnourished, look even thinner.

They settled down to eat, Draco humming in appreciation at the plain food. "This feels much better in my stomach," he said around a piece of broccoli.

"Good," Harry replied, concentrating on his own meal.

Few words were spoken by either of them until the meal was finished, Draco barely eating half of his, and they sat back together on the sofa sipping coffee.

Draco yawned. "I'm so full now. It's going to take a while to get back to eating a decent sized meal." His voice turned serious. "Just in time to have it all go to waste, unless we can find the diary."

"We will," Harry stressed. "We won't give up, Draco."

"You're right, of course," Draco said, turning to smile at him. "Ever the optimist, though, aren't you?"

"Always." Harry smiled in return, getting caught in Draco's expression. His mouth was smiling but his eyes weren't, full of a sadness that made Harry's heart clench. "Don't give up on me now, Draco," he said, wanting nothing more than to see the blond smile again. Properly. A comforting hand rested on Draco's knee, Harry unaware that he'd placed it there until Draco brought attention to it by redirecting his gaze.

Harry blushed a little, but left the hand there for a few moments more before removing it.

Draco sighed. "Maybe I deserve everything that's going to happen to me if we can't find that diary. Maybe even if we do find it, it will have nothing more interesting than Severus' grocery list in its pages."

"Stop it," Harry said shortly. "If you thought it was all hopeless, you would have run as soon as we left the Ministry. Instead, you're here with me trying to find a way to clear your name. Why?"

At Harry's brusque tone, Draco looked up at him, surprised. "Why didn't I run? Oh, well, that was because I never want to leave your side again," Draco replied flippantly but, at Harry's stern look, he relented and rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying again.

"I don't want to live the rest of my life always looking over my shoulder, wondering when someone from the Ministry would appear and lock me in Azkaban, or worse, for the rest of my days. I've lived in fear most of my life, Harry, and it's debilitating. My mum said that when I was a kid, I was fearless. I used to climb to the top most part of the Manor and jump off on my little Peewee broom. I'd fly safely to the ground, but she said she always had her heart in her throat seeing how unafraid and how confident I was.

"Fear changed all that. I became scared to do anything that didn't comply with what was expected of me. I was petrified that someone would find that under all the bluff and bluster, there was nothing worthwhile, that I was a coward." Draco paused for a moment and Harry stayed silent, letting him take his time. "I will admit that if you'd given me the chance of escape earlier, then I would have taken it and be damned. But you listened to me, treated me with respect, even though I know you hate me. Or you used to hate me." He gave Harry a little smirk before continuing. "Because of you, I'm free from that monster and all his pathetic minions. Because of you, there is a small chance of a relatively normal life. Now, you've given me the chance, I need the chance to be able to show everyone that I'm not a coward, that I am worth it. Finally, after all these years, I'm learning not to let fear rule me and it's all because of you, Harry. How could I run away from that?"

Harry sat there stunned by the depth of Draco's thoughts. After hearing what he'd gone through, Harry had wondered at the strength required to survive something like that relatively intact. "It's not because of me, Draco," Harry responded. "I wouldn't have been able to do any of that unless you'd already taken a stand to help yourself by helping Snape. You're no coward," he smiled. "Dean Thomas told me what you did to save him."

Draco looked at him, eyes wide in surprise. "He did? Oh."

Harry nodded. "And he's going to speak for you at your trial. You saved his life, Draco. It took guts going up against Greyback like that."

"Thanks," Draco said softly, looking away and, if Harry didn't know better, he'd think that Draco was blushing. But when Draco looked back at him, there were no telltale signs of it. "You just have to know how to handle Greyback. He was...predictable in the end. Thank Thomas for agreeing to speak for me, will you?" Draco said awkwardly, sighing. "I don't know that I deserve this support from you and your friends but -"

Harry cut him off. "Everyone deserves a second chance. And I appreciate you not running off. I would have had to chase you down and hex you from here to next week."

Draco gave a small chuckle and then sighed, leaning across and resting his head on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered. "I'm beginning to think though that my first reason is just as valid as the real one."

And Harry had nothing to say to that.

They really should be getting back to the Ministry before the Glamours on the cell faded, but the weight of Draco's head on his shoulder felt so comfortable. Maybe a few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

TBC...