Blood Clot

Draco's POV

PART THIRTY TWO

Afterwards

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Oh, no. Don't tell me you want to do it again already, Draco!"

I turned my head to see familiar wild ebony hair poking out from beneath the bed sheets. I almost laughed, saying, "No, Harry, that's not what I meant. What I meant is...I'm in immense pain here, bloody fucking pain in my arse..."

Harry laughed, shifting to press against me, still underneath the covers. He gave my back a light kiss, and I could sense the smile in his voice as he replied, "I know what you mean, Draco. I'm not going to be able to walk today..."

I grinned. What a day this was going to be for us both. Served him right, having a bit of pain, too. I felt like I was going to split in half, starting at my arse. Today was an important day, too, I remembered. The last day of Harry's lessons with the two Professors, and the day us guests would have to pack up and find somewhere else to stay other than Hogwarts for the summer. Honestly, it was a horrible day to wake up to after a long night of intense sex.

But damn, it had been worth it. Although Harry had got the top and I'd been the one pillow chewing with each thrust, the glory of all that had been an unforgettable and undeniably satisfying experience. I couldn't compare it to anything else.

So it was now with contentedness that I woke to find that, regardless of the pain of the privates, neither Harry nor I could say anything against what we'd done. It was too special, too sacred to speak of, yet too fabulous to not dwell on. However, my dwelling was interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door. Immediately a raging headache came on to me. Dumbledore had sent a stupid house elf to remind me of the Last Day conference that all guests were supposed to attend. What time was it, anyway?

The house elf's voice was heard shrilly through the door. "Master Malfoy, Master Malfoy sir, Master Malfoy must get up now! There is ten minutes until the noon conference. Master Malfoy must attend! It is very important, sir, urgent, urgent!"

Groaning, I picked up my clock and threw it as hard as I could at the door; I couldn't help but grin widely as a loud shriek came from the house elf in reply. Damn Dumbledore and his elfish minions, the squeaky little critters. Sitting up and rubbing my eyes, I yelled to the house elf, "I'll be there soon! Tell Dumbledore that he can shove his bloody fucking important conference attendance order up his arse."

I made sure the house elf was gone by listening closely for receding footsteps, and then lay back down next to Harry, wincing at the pangs of pain that shot through me. Grabbing Harry's arm as he was about to get out of bed and surely get ready for the conference, I said, "Come on, Harry. We can miss the conference. We had a busy night, plus having to Apparate here to my room afterwards to sleep. You're only one guest. Dumbledore will understand."

Mentally, I snorted at my own words. 'Dumbledore will understand,' how extremely cheesy of me, how...Gryffindor. Gross. Wait, I thought, I guess I can't boo Gryffindors anymore, because my school days are over, Harry's a Gryffindor, and we had sex, so...no more biasing. Damn! A little bit of more fun leaks out from my adult life...

I groaned and rolled off the bed as Harry succeeded in pulling away from me. Knowing it would do no good to mumble protests or try to stop him, I grabbed a pair of clothes-- black coat, shirt, boxers, blue trousers--from my closet and quickly put them on, wincing every few seconds as I pulled on my boxers and trousers. Ouch.

Tossing a pair of clothes over my back to Harry, I quickly cast a few spells to pack my trunk, saying, "Don't think you're wearing your dirty clothes. Put these on."

But a few minutes later, I turned around, and Harry was wearing his own dirty, used clothes. Frowning in return to my frown, he said, "I'm not wearing your clothes. Your taste is different than mine."

Ooh, he totally set himself up for that one. "I agree that you taste better than me, Harry, but there's no need to be so...hot and flustered about it." He became just that at my sexual innuendo, shaking a fist at me in annoyance.

Opening the door, he said, "Shut up Draco, and come on to the conference. We only have a few minutes to find out where it is! I cast some cleaning and scenting spells on me so I don't smell or look so bad. Plus," a coat came flying through the air, and he donned it, "I have a coat on now to make myself look more..."

"Like me?" I dodged his fist, laughing, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before rushing ahead through the empty corridors to the old History of Magic room.

-----*-----

"Draco. Draco!"

I looked around as I heard a hissed whisper of my name. Harry and I had gotten separated for the first half of the conference, there being arranged seats. Harry, of course, had gotten a front seat, and strangely enough, I hadn't. Trust Dumbledore to think me unimportant.

It was now break time, or what I called mentally, the "Intermission." The conference was so far like a stupid, boring movie. Like "Gone With The Wind," except without the sick mushy gushy romance that both book and movie had had. Ack. Romance, and lots of it, plus lengthiness. Double ack. Going towards the Refreshments stand to get a drink and a snack, I didn't let my expression deny how bored and uninterested I was in all of this. What was the use of having a meeting before the guests left? We didn't have school here (anymore, in mine and Harry's cases), so why not just let us up and leave?

Sighing irritably, I ran a hand through my hair, looking back as I heard a familiar set of footsteps. Harry came up behind me, panting. He fidgeted from foot to foot, wincing in a barely audible way every few seconds, as I turned around. I clinked the unused Sickles in my pocket to make the point that he was disturbing this man's well deserved meal (Dumbledore insisted we give tips to the house elves) and snapped, "What?"

Harry hung his head; I could tell he was repressing the urge to lean against me and lay his head on my shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he mumbled, "It hurts..."

Bloody hell. The man was perspiring and could barely stand, he was in so much pain. I bet it was due to not only the sex (it always hurt the first time, and he had thrust hard), but also to the hang over he'd got from drinking all that vodka. Immediately I became worried, but pushing away the urge to hug him, I switched instead to a business-like mode. Stealthily glancing around to make sure no one was watching us or was close enough to observe us, I lightly wrapped one arm around Harry to push him closer to me. Leaning towards him, I quickly moved to press my hand to his crotch, and as I did so I whispered in his ear, "Headache from the hangover is obvious but also, do you mean...this?"

Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Yesss..."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Ah...I don't know. But--just--stop--stop pressing it! Nnnnn...it hurts...to..." he gasped, "be aroused."

I stepped away from him as someone walked past us, and then turning halfway away from Harry, I whispered in reply, "Have you been having a hard--pun intended--time walking? How does it feel when you sit? Because that's what we've been doing for a few hours now."

He stared at me for a few moments; I had learned to speak without moving my mouth, having a few random lessons from a ventriloquist soldier I'd met. Then he replied, "Sitting doesn't hurt...much. Walking hurts horribly. I probably look like a duck..."

Laughing, I said, "Well, then go sit down, okay? I'm going to get a drink and some cookies; sitting hurts me even more than walking does you, I believe." Ignoring his faint noises of protest, I walked over to the Refreshment stand. Unfortunately, I was just pouring some Butterbeer for myself when Granger-Weasley, the smart arse woman, bumped me in the arm. Swearing, a bit too loudly--which resulted in Dumbledore raising a disapproving brow at me and a few old witches gawking at my bad behavior--I cleaned up the spill, shooting Granger-Weasley a cold glare.

Surprisingly enough, her glare in reply was quite weak, and I noticed her glancing in Harry's direction. She mouthed at me, "What's wrong with Harry?" Giving her a cheeky I-know-something-you-don't look, I stuck my tongue out at her before going to reluctantly sit back down.

There was no way she was finding out about Harry and I. No way.

-----*-----

"America? AMERICA?! NO BLOODY WAY!!!"

Rolling my eyes, I said, "Fine, fine, fine then, Harry. No America. But where then? London? Back to your cousin's place in Little Whinging, Surrey? I don't think so."

Harry sighed, shaking his head dismally. We were both all packed, ready to go, but then came our problem: we didn't know where to go. Looking up to meet gazes with me, his emerald eyes sparkling with fortitude, he said, "What about your place?"

I snorted. "Malfoy Manor? No way in hell, Harry. That place is empty, anyway. Lucius is in Azkaban, Mother's dead, the house elves...who knows. Besides...it would bring back bad memories..."

For a few moments I was distracted by said memories, but then Harry's audible gulp brought me back to the present. Harry gave me an odd look, one of wary curiousity and discomfort, before saying, "Actually, that wasn't where I meant. I meant your place. The castle you got. In...wherever it is."

"Gravesend."

The idea wasn't actually all that bad. Out of all the possible places we could go, my castle in Gravesend was one of the best. But Harry didn't understand. He didn't know that the castle, too, brought bad memories back to me. Memories of despair, of blood, of giving up, of brooding, and of...the whispers. My whispers. The inner voices that had spoken to me and been one of the reasons for my being put into Mungo's; the castle was where the insanity had begun. I didn't want Harry to see that, and frankly, I didn't want to have that experience again. Harry wouldn't be able to survive that castle, such a freakish, dark, cold, unwelcoming place it was.

I wasn't sure if I would be able to survive it, either.

But it was worth a try.

Draco's POV

PART THIRTY THREE

Hell?

"Here we are."

The flump and clunk of suitcases was loud and heavy in the long corridor, making an odd echo. I didn't even dare look at Harry. Surely now he realized how horrible this place was? Dark, dank, too large for one person to live in, every sound making eerie echoes, every sight echoing a memory in my mind. I hated it; but there was no denying it was one of the only places Harry and I had to stay.

"Home sweet home," I drawled, smirking at my own sarcasm. I knew I was in for a shitload of hell. Just walking up to the doorway had given me shivers. Quickly I cast a few spells on our trunks to make them go to the room that I had used for a month before I resigned myself to the lounge room. The room we were to stay in was now the guestroom; I decided that promptly. Because of course we won't be staying here for very long, I thought, considering the circumstances. My circumstances.

"Well," I said, my voice a fakery of cheerfulness, "Shall I give you a tour of the castle, Harry?"

-----*-----

Harry hadn't had the most readable reactions yet. I couldn't tell whether he hated or liked it; this fact was extremely frustrating to me. He was in awe of the dining room and the kitchen--had commented that the long table reaching almost the whole span of the room was more magnificent than Hogwarts'. The kitchen's chandeliers and it's resemblance to a ballroom rather than a kitchen had surprised him.

He'd swallowed those words when he saw the real ballroom, of course. One thing that he noticed was that all the hallways were made of the same castle stone, whereas some rooms of the castle looked more like painted walls. I told him about the enchantment on the rooms--they were made from images in my head, a mixture of memories of the Manor, Hogwarts, and some other places I'd been. Therefore, there was grandeur in some rooms, and cheerful hominess in others. It was all a bit too extreme, in my opinion. I liked the rooms that maintained a balance of sophistication and comfort best, personally.

The room we were to stay in was quite to Harry's fancy. He liked the idea of a cozy fireplace, and the bed was nice and large. The walk in closet had totally blown him away, and, in his attempt to not realize my wealth, he had called the round window looking out to the garden "bizarre."

However, other than comments like these that I found not all that interesting, Harry hadn't shown any strong reactions to the place. It was awfully unnerving. I had just finished showing him the attic, and we were on our way back to our room, when Harry pointed to the one room in the house that had a normal door instead of two elegant, swinging entrance wood slabs, or sliding glass doors. It was the room across from ours.

The room.

Where I realized that the horror was myself, and not the castle, and where, really, most of my adulthood troubles had begun. His hand on the doorknob, Harry turned back to me, eyes widening as my wand clattered to the floor from my limp fingers. There was no way I was going in there. Every single dreadful moment I had experienced in that room came back to flow through my mind in a senseless, blurring timeline, every memory of whispering voices sending a new shudder down my spine. I curled into a crouching position on the floor, repressing the sobs that threatened to tear from my throat. I did not want to go inside that room! No, actually, that was incorrect--it wasn't that I didn't want to go inside that room, it was that I...I couldn't. I couldn't summon the strength to do so. I wasn't even in the room, and yet just the sight of the door leading into it had reduced me to a most pitiable state! I was a wreck, and this humiliated and simultaneously crushed me, every wall of defense I had ever put up crumbling to rubble.

I winced at his hand on my shoulder. I didn't need his comfort. As long as he didn't open that door. That door, what it led to was my ultimate nightmare. All the negative emotions (and there were many) that, at some time in my life, had been caged in, had come loose all at once in that room. My only way to pause the hurricane rush of emotions had been to brood, yet by brooding I had only awakened the inner voices in my head, the whispers, and they had tugged the curtains open to show my misery standing on the stage. The misery had brought back the pain, the memories, the need to self-torture, and thus, I had only made myself suffer more. That room was the place where all my weaknesses had been bared to myself.

I didn't want Harry, too, to realize how weak I was, and how my failed attempts at repressing my emotions only led to more suffering and insanity. That room was Hell. My own personal Hell. How courteous of whoever up there--or rather, down--to give it to me.

After failed attempts at trying to comfort me, Harry stood up and walked towards the door again. I managed a gasp of "No!" But he opened the door, and walked into the room.

I almost expected demons to rush out and attack me, but nothing happened. Harry simply glanced around the room, noticing the curtains pulled shut, the fireplace, and the lone, squishy chair, and then came back out to me. Lifting me up with difficulty, Harry asked gently, "What terrifies you so much, Draco?"

I finally managed to breathe, great gulps of oxygen coming into my lungs. Exhaling a shuddery breath, I whispered shakily, "That room..." Harry turned to look back at the room, as if trying to see its hidden horrors, and then turning back to me, he gave me a confused look.

Reluctantly, I continued. "Don't bring me into that room. I...It's my..." I had no strength to finish the sentence.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, Harry said, "I think you have to face your fears, Draco. I had to face mine, with the dementors, with Voldemort, with realizing that although I never wanted to be hero, I was still worried about being what people expected of me, about being who they wanted me to be, and not who I wanted to be. I realized that I couldn't always save people. Please, Draco...come into the room. I'm with you! Nothing will happen."

Regardless of my faint protests, Harry slowly led me towards the room, to stand in the doorway. I tried to stop him, pleading, feeling all the repressed fear welling up in my heart, my dignity torn down so much that I felt helpless enough to beg Harry, to fall at his feet and scream.

I had barely the breath to do it, but as he lifted me up again, tried to make me look him in the eye again when I could not, I yelled at him. My voice cracking, hoarse, I yelled like I'd never yelled before. "STOP IT! Stop, Harry, stop! I, I don't want to go in there! Don't make me go in there, don't, PLEASE! I...I can't go in there...I can't Harry, please...if you wish me any happiness, any at all, don't make me go in there...don't...please...I...I CAN'T!"

Pulling me up to a standing position, Harry slid a hand under my chin. His soft fingers against my skin, firmly, with the most conviction I'd ever seen him do anything with, he pushed my chin up, forcing me to be at level with him. It was at that moment, as his jade gaze caught mine, with the most unshakable affection towards me and confidence that he was doing the right thing for us both gleaming in his eyes, that I knew I loved Harry.

Then he whispered, "I'm trying to help you." Reluctantly, I took a step forward, as he moved to stand behind me, his hands comforting on my shoulders, like pillars of strength keeping me from floating off the ground into the blackest oblivion. I stepped into the room.

Memories rushed at me like a tsunami. I remembered sitting on that chair staring into the fire; I remembered the first day I realized I didn't know how long I'd been in the room; I remembered the first day a whisper had spoken to me; I remembered being dragged away from this room by force. It had been my shelter, but only my shelter against myself, so thus, it had proved useless, and betrayed me. I had betrayed myself. This room had been where parts of me I hated had come to haunt me, and that was the reason I had had to guard myself at all.

Harry gave me a gentle push farther into the room, and I almost collapsed then and there. Instead, however, I closed my eyes, and walked to sit on the familiar, now dusty, comfortable old cushioned chair.

Almost immediately, they returned.

Why hello, Draco. Glad you have come back to us. We've missed you.

Yes. It's been a long time. We're extraordinarily patient, provided we get our way in the end.

I remained silent.

It's hard to make a comeback when you haven't been anywhere, isn't it?

"Shut up," I hissed. I knew it was the mark of my defeat, for responding to them, I had learned, was one of the worst things I could do--yet not responding meant a crowd of voices that were me and yet not me would be screaming inside my head, driving me insane as I had been before. Yet respond I did, for with Harry's speech, a bit of my self confidence, and therefore, I bit of my pride, had returned. This was not a good thing, my pride, for if I had ever run with it, letting it grow as Lucius had taught me to, it would have destroyed me.

Well aren't we a bloody ray of sunshine.

Draco, I'm sorry, but...do I resemble your therapist?

If they didn't stop soon, I wasn't sure what would happen to me. But I knew it wouldn't be good. It was not their words that hurt me, it was their presence. They thrived on my misery, wanted to destroy me, even though doing so would be suicide on their part. I had re-connected with humanity! I didn't need them anymore! Why couldn't they understand that?

But of course they didn't understand. They were part of me, born from my own mind, my own deficiencies. Draco Malfoy didn't try to understand himself; he thought he always had. But in truth, I didn't understand myself. That was because I hadn't known my true self before Harry, before I began to defy people who were controlling my life--Lucius, for example.

"STOP IT!"

Aww, did I step on your little bitty ego?

A cynic is someone who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

Hehheh. People are staring at you. You sure know how to make a scene whenever humanly possible.

This was torture. I didn't need them, or want them. They were interrupting my life, and making me feel so confused inside. Like a spear through a heart, something stirred inside my soul at their words. They reminded me of my past, when I hadn't had Harry to heal me, hadn't had Harry to make me realize that suffering, revenge, cruelty, and blood clots, were my enemy. The whispers' words pierced me, tainted me, hurt me more than I had ever been able to hurt myself. But I was hurting myself. They were me, figments of parts of me, and I hated myself, because everything I had been, all the thoughts I had had regarding myself, and the ways I had treated myself, before Harry, all had hurt me.

I fell to the floor on my knees, staring into the empty fireplace, wetness welling up in my eyes. The fire wasn't there. I felt like I was that ash in the fireplace; dead, gray, useless, horrible, morbid...utterly disgusting.

Suddenly though, it all fell away for a moment, as Harry obscured my vision as his face zoomed up close to mine. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he backed up a bit, as if scrutinizing me. Faintly, his voice echoed in my head, as if distant, and not so close at all.

"Draco? Draco, are you all right? Who are you talking to?"

Then they were at it again.

Ahha. So there he is. The one that you never brooded about, but who was always in the back of your mind. The one you wanted to forget, but couldn't, because he was so important to you.

Succumb to what you really want, Draco. Do what your heart tells you. You aren't satisfied. Take that sword down from the wall, use those teeth, grab your wand, kill, Draco, destroy him, he is...

The enemy.

A shudder ran through me as I broke, shattered into an uncontrollable mass of weakness, what was really inside, beneath my disguise of stone. Harry, gently, properly, had melted the stone, but these voices were destroying his artwork, his miracle of change, and destroying me.

I couldn't stand it anymore. There was no way to let it out, to scream at them, to show them how much I hated them, in any way but words, but even words were not enough. "Don't talk to me, stop it, stop it...I, I don't need any of you, stop existing! Don't find my weakness, you are my weakness...oh, God...help me, help me...No, I said STOP IT! STOP IT! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Burning, harsh tears rolled down my cheeks in streams, and with sobs shaking my entire body, all I could do was clutch at Harry, and never, ever let go. I wasn't sure who I was anymore, or who Harry was anymore...But I knew that he was my only refuge against anything that had ever tried to hurt me, and that he was the only one who knew that the most harmful enemy of mine was myself.

The voices stopped, but I wasn't sure if they were gone forever. I didn't need them, and the part of me they had come from had been demolished by Harry. At that moment, it was even harder to imagine that all of Harry's work to cure me, to save me, had not been destroyed, than it was to breathe.

-----*-----

It seemed an eternity later that I gained consciousness, and it was as if the whole fiasco in the room had been but a horrible nightmare, a time spent in another world. I awoke to the brush of lips against my cheek, and the low murmur of Harry's voice.

My whole body was exhausted. For some reason, each of my muscles ached, and I felt as if moving would make my bones creak horridly. Groaning in pain, I turned on my side to face Harry, moving to nuzzle my face in his neck. Mmm, such sweet warmth he was.

His lack of questions came to me as a surprise, and yet I was glad. Harry had obviously figured it out himself, or realized that I was not in a condition to answer. Sweet, sweet Harry. Always so kind and considerate.

Something akin to joy welled up in me. I had faced my fears. I had survived against myself, the part of me Harry had banished, or burned, or perhaps simply transformed and glued to the parts of me he had fixed. I was whole. I was safe. What I had never believed existed, had never trusted, now did. Love. I was sure of it. One doubt still remained in my mind, though.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"There's something I need to tell you..."

His eyes were sparkling so brilliantly. That gaze was so reassuring. Warm. Caring. Honest. Trustful. Happy. Accepting. He was willing to listen, to help me throughout all difficulties...but did he also feel....?

"Harry...I love you."

He smiled, and that was my answer, although he also verbalized it, too. He was willing to accept me for who I was, to feel the same for me as I had realized I felt for him. He knew how significant the truth of my love for him was, maybe even remembered my words of disbelief in love so many years ago. Now, it was different--changed for the better. We would do anything for each other, care for each other, understand and know each other to the best of our abilities, and never, ever hurt the other. The intimacy between us, the determination, the fact that we had never given up entirely because we'd had and needed each other, all had made us able to achieve our dreams, and more.

"I love you too, Draco."

Moving closer, and wrapping his arms around me in a gentle hug, he smiled, and I felt as if that smile represented the dawn of a new day, a new age of joy to come.

Kissing me on the forehead, his warmth so close created inside me a sudden surge of bubbly joy. I had never felt any such thing, but knew that now, with Harry, and the reassurance that he would always be close, I would be able to feel such love, love of Harry, and love of life, to the fullest. Feeling the need to express my joy, I whispered softly, "Thank you, Harry."

He smiled as I stared at him, my hands at his hips. I began laughing, unable to hold it in anymore, while he mumbled against my mouth even as I pulled him close for a kiss and another hug, "You're welcome, Draco."

I could end this with a truthful, cheesy, "And we lived happily ever after."

But I won't.

THE END

Harry's POV

EPILOGUE

It had been a month since Sirius had come to visit Draco and I, only two weeks into arriving at our new home, and soon the two had an okay, albeit quite snarky relationship. Draco knew how special Sirius was to me. With the help of Sirius, Lupin, and some others, Draco and I had fixed up the castle so that it was less gloomy and had a more comforting, homey yet not sickly sweet atmosphere. Draco and I shared a room upstairs, and Sirius had a room downstairs, although most of the time he liked to go and spend the night brooding and poring over old maps in a particular tower.

Our life in the large castle was a good life, with friends visiting often, but enough time and space on the large property to let Draco and I have special time alone when we wanted it. Everyone soon got used to the large proportions of the castle, and the surprising variety of rooms--the castle was a mix of three tastes, mine being the simple and homey, Draco's being the elegant and mysteriously intriguing, and Sirius's being the naturalistic, slightly exotic, wild type.

I never seemed to have enough time to just snuggle in the covers and sleep in like Draco always did, and the road forward in life was bumpy with tragedy and uncertainty, but I liked the adventure, and I would be satisfied as long as I could keep the company of people I loved. I was happy, so Draco was happy, and Sirius was glad that it was so and he was still able to be reckless every once in a while. Life was never without excitement.

One night, after an evening filled with fun, silly flirtation, and inebriation, I stumbled through the doorway into mine and Draco's room, and plopped onto the bed, falling asleep without taking off my coat or anything. I was so exhausted. It was 2:00 in the morning.

Hours later, I awoke to hard metal pressing into my nose. It hurt. Groaning, I blearily turned on my back, and blinking furiously to awaken myself, I took off my glasses and placed them on the bedside table. Rubbing the spot on bridge of my nose where the metal had dug in, I almost didn't hear the knocking at the door, so dizzy I felt.

Grumbling, I slowly began to process of walking to my door. It seemed to last an eternity. Finally my hand fell on the doorknob, and opening it violently, I stopped my mumbling and shouted, "DON'T KNOCK SO LOUD!!!" My head felt like it was about to snap off at any moment, and every little sound seemed to blare like trumpets in my ears. Damn that vodka, and damn Draco for letting me continue drinking; he'd known I would get a hang over. Damn it all.

I looked up from the floor, away from my thoughts, as I suddenly realized that someone was standing in front of me. I felt that uncomfortable feeling of being stared at; I'd accidentally said my thoughts aloud. Ron and Hermione stood at the door, one curious, a slightly amused twinkle in his eye, the other disapproving, biting her lip.

I waved them in and the both went to sit on the bed as I sat in the chair. Tilting her head funnily, Hermione asked, "Vodka, Harry? What were you doing last night? And...Draco?"

They followed me out of the room and to another room, which was the replacement dining room, since the humongous long table and gigantic dining room for the castle was too big and awkward for only three people. I went into the kitchen to get a pitcher of water and some goblets before returning to sit at the table.

Seeing my uneasy look, Ron came over to pour himself and me a glass of water, saying, "Listen mate, we know there's something you haven't been telling us, and we don't want to interrogate you or anything, but...well, damnit, I'm curious, and Hermione wants to make sure you're not getting yourself in trouble, or..." He paused, giving me a nervous glance, and then finished with, "Or letting other people..."

"Drag me into trouble?" I grinned. They hadn't seen me since I had left Hogwarts, and had probably been wondering where I was; both had also known I'd left with Draco. Hermione was obviously still suspicious of Draco's intentions of spending so much time with me, and our relationship had her nervous and uneasy. She didn't know the half of it; getting over each other's problems and trying to know each other better was a tough job for both Draco and I. But it was what we wanted, and what we had to do to further the relationship. The struggles had been and always were and would be worth it.

Putting down my glass of water, I refused to look up at them, and staring into the clear liquid, I wondered how it could be so simple. Water; it was refreshing, simple, and so...innocent. Only when used by someone could it be harmful. That was what love was like. Abstract, innocent, but sometimes faked, or used for sinister purposes. What a tangled life I lived. Of course, I knew Draco was to be trusted; we weren't fickle.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Alright. I guess you two have to know. I don't want to drive you mad with curiousity. And we're friends; no secrets allowed. I'll summon it up for you in one sentence, mates: On the way to deepening our relationship, Draco and I have...uh, connected, physically and mentally, and we'll do anything to keep what we have from falling apart."

"That's right. And it's none of your bloody business."

I looked up at the uninvited voice. Goosebumps formed on my arms. Uh-oh. I would have prepared if I knew this confrontation would come so soon. Here was Draco.

He stood leaning against the doorway, obviously having decided to come wake me up...or do something else...after his shower. The corridor behind him was dark, making his currently unexpected presence and morbid glare all the more dangerous seeming.

But I couldn't help giving a tiny smile, anyway. His hair, usually quite tidy or gelled back, was flying every which way chaotically, the water having messed up his dignified appearance slightly. Wet drops slid down his neck every once in a while, slipping down to disappear...which was what I wanted to do. Why did he have to have finished that shower now, of all times? Urgh. Ron and Hermione were here now! All three of them together was not a good idea!

Hermione was biting her lip, and I could see that, for my sake, she was holding back from glaring at Draco. Ron had turned his head to see what I was staring at, but, unlike what I had thought, his reaction was mild, simply a furrowing of his brows. Turning back to me, his lips pursed for a moment, as if he was sucking a sour candy, and then standing up he turned around to face Draco. The hairs on my goosebumps were now standing on end. They were only a few feet apart! Oh help me...

Ron reached out his hand to shake Draco's, but as I expected, Draco simply stared at the hand held out to him like it was a plastic fish. His gaze going back up to meet Ron's, Draco then surprised me. Smacking Ron over the side of the head, he said, "You're a git, Weasel, you know that? But you're not as pathetic as I expected. Although I must say, you look like shit. Is that in style now?"

Instead of flying into a rage like he would have if he was still a boy, Ron grinned at Draco, saying, "Nice to see you too, Malfoy. But you know, if you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague. I'm glad Harry has someone to be with in his life's who's a stable person."

Oh no. Don't tell me Ron knew about Draco's past? Uh-oh.

Giving Ron a sneering grin, Draco said, "Had some chats with the Ministry in the past, haven't you now? You have no idea how acutely depressing it is to realize we're from the same species. In case you didn't know, often it's the stable ones that do something crazy."

I sat there, staring, listening to Ron and Draco's strange conversation. They weren't killing each other! This should have made me feel comfortable, but it didn't. This was a picture gone totally wrong. I felt alienated, as if I was looking through a window out at a strange, new world.

Reaching his hand forward to grab Draco's, forcing the other man to shake hands, Ron said, "Crazy indeed. Something crazy as in...giving my best friend--" he pointed to me, "an insane hickey of scary proportions, and getting him drunk on vodka so you could snog him senseless? You little po-faced git!"

But Ron smiled even as he insulted Draco, and then stepping back, still smiling, he said, "Thanks. I don't know what Hermione and I would have done without your intervention. You were driving Harry mad here, so it only made sense that you would be the one to give him what he secretly wanted--you--and shut him up. Finally! So go ahead and get snuggly with 'im. He's all yours."

I stared, gaping, as Draco gave Ron what could almost be called a look of approval, and then walked over to me. He leaned down towards me, and smiling at my still gawking, wide-eyed expression, he took my hands in his, and said, "A little confused there, Harry? Don't worry; the Weasel and I are on good terms. It's just Granger who had a little problem with me."

Scooting me over to share the chair, he slung an arm over my shoulder, and directed that killer glare of his at Hermione. Glancing back and forth from the frowning Ron, glaring Draco, and my uneasy look, Hermione said, "Okay, okay, fine! I won't hassle Malfoy anymore about Harry! Stop giving me those accusing looks! I just wish he hadn't given Harry that awful hickey...It's unhealthy!"

Grinning, Ron gave Hermione a hug, and then steered his still protesting, mumbling wife towards the door. As he closed the door behind him, he gave Draco and I a wink, saying, "Hey Malfoy...Thanks for not annoying me any more than you do. Oh by the way, remember this: I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter. And the both of you," he looked back and forth from Draco to me, "I'll be checking up on you two later to make sure you didn't melt from all the heat you're gonna cook up."

Then the door shut, and I turned back to Draco. Shaking my head, I stared at him, saying, "I can't believe it. You and Ron...friends! It's insane!"

"But not impossible," Draco said as he snuggled up to me. "Now then, Harry, let's go downstairs for a breakfast."