Draco By Trial

It is not so much our friends' help that helps us
as the confident knowledge that they will help us.

Epicurus

*

It was January; a new year and a time to begin again. The snow had faded away to nothing as a cruel frost gripped Hogwarts' grounds. Everything was grey and bleak, even the faces of the returning students, and Draco felt that greyness seep into his mind.

Things were difficult with Harry, there had been very little genuine news of Voldemort, though rumours were abound, and his father was still in prison, but still he felt an unshakeable sense of doom about him. The return of the other Slytherins only served to worsen his mood. He no longer had the run of his common room and was forced once more to cower in his rooms. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't hiding; that it was simply easier this way, but he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe they all thought him a coward. 'One day,' he promised himself, 'one day I will stand up to all of them.' It was a promise he didn't know how to fulfil.

He knew they were planning something; could see it in all of the eyes that followed him, even as he saw Blaise and Pansy break off together to talk and surreptitiously stare at him; watching his movements. He knew that they'd all been away together over Christmas; could sense and see the new solidarity amongst them. It was frightening, and it made him unutterably sad to know that he had been left out of it; that they had purposefully excluded their once-leader. However, he had his suspicions as to where they had been; what they'd learnt together, and it made him glad that he'd had the opportunity to be with Harry instead.

Even the time he spent with Harry seemed to have changed. Things had been strained between them; the air full of unspoken words and the memory of other words which should never have been voiced. Neither mentioned the knife Draco had gotten Harry, but it hovered constantly between them, like a pointing finger constantly accusing them of things they weren't aware of, and it refused to go away. However, they fought valiantly on, both maintaining an air of nonchalance and a determination not to let anything get to them.

Unfortunately, real life began to close in around Draco. He looked at the students and his teachers as they returned to the everyday drudgery of school, and realised how tired they all looked. For as long as possible he'd tried to ignore it, despite the fact that he was a social leper because of it; that it was what would always come between himself and Harry; despite the fact that it was all around him.

There was a war brewing. He knew it, Harry knew it, they all knew it.

He saw the increased security, had to abide by the early curfews set in place for his own protection. He noticed the furtive glances of the Slytherins as they trundled through their lessons. They were worried, but not about the same things as everyone else. Draco was kept away from all of the rumours which went through his house, but he wasn't an idiot.

It was eerie, just how little had been heard of Voldemort. There were no disappearances, no deaths; there was nothing, only rumours that grew more fantastic by the day and a dreadful silence that made him itch.

There were regular student-teacher meetings now, where the students were asked to voice any problems or worries they had. Draco never went to these. In his mind it was just another way for the teachers to sift through any rumours in the hope that they might uncover some genuine information. He refused to be used in that way.

He didn't want any part of it; wanted to distance himself from all of it for as long as possible, but he was beginning to realise that the time that he would be able to just ignore that anything was happening, was coming to an end.

Most of all though, Draco noticed the changes in Harry. He knew that Harry still kept up the Dumbledore's Army meetings; the same meetings Draco had so successfully stopped the previous year. Once a week he would go to those meetings and try to train his friends to fight an unknown enemy; an enemy that could strike at any time, anywhere, and in any way. He also saw the way everyone kept looking at Harry when he was with him, in a way that was almost pleading him to do something. It made him want to sneer at them all.

Draco could almost smell their fear.

Despite all of Harry's speeches about his new philosophy on life; about wanting to enjoy every moment because he never knew which day would be his last, Draco could see the strain on him beginning to build. He'd guessed that Harry was having nightmares again, each night he would try to put off going to bed as long as possible, making Draco stay out later and later. He saw how Harry desperately tried to remain happy and carefree as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on; as though he wasn't under such immense pressure because he was their only chance; the only one. There was a quiet desperation to him now, and Draco felt completely unprepared to help him in any way.

Draco remembered earlier conversations with Harry, about what Granger and Weasley had said about their friendship, and realised they had been right. One day their many differences would come up, and it would cause an impassable rift between them. He felt so torn. There were things that Harry believed in so blindly that Draco couldn't possibly agree with. Wizards and muggles weren't equal; would never be equal, and the muggles would never understand. Mudbloods scared him, they lived with one foot in each world, wizards or witches during term-time, and then returning to the muggle world and hiding away their wands and books, denying who they really were, for the rest of the time. Who was to say which side they were on? Where did their loyalties lie? If a war came between the magic and muggle worlds, who would they turn on and betray?

Draco was horribly cynical, and Harry would never understand. Draco found that he couldn't help him because there was nothing he could say. He found that the only comfort he could offer was to simply be there, every day, willing to act as though nothing had changed and that nothing ever would.

They'd been sitting silently with the poppies one evening as a cold breeze ruffled through their hair in a failed attempt at comfort. Harry had been to another student meeting, he'd begged Draco to go with him, but he'd refused. Draco could tell that it had been particularly stressful for Harry, but was afraid to ask why. So they had sat for over an hour, not saying anything. Finally Harry had sighed and plucked one of the flowers, twirling it between his fingers.

"This isn't real life; it can't be," he'd whispered. Draco had said nothing, willing to let the silence fall once more, but Harry had apparently been all too willing to speak now that he'd started. "It would have been a lot easier if you'd been there."

"I'm not here to make your life easier Harry."

"No, of course not," Harry had answered sarcastically. "You never do anything for anyone except yourself."

"That's not fair. Look, this is your stupid war. I never wanted to be included. I just wanted to be left alone."

"At least you have a choice. That must be so nice."

"Getting at me won't help anyone Harry."

"Do you agree with Voldemort?"

"What?"

"Do you agree with the things he says? About Muggles and Muggle-born?" Draco had stared at him for a long time. He'd thought about lying; about just telling Harry what he knew he wanted to hear, but looking at him, he just hadn't been able to do it.

"Yes, I do. I'm not going to pretend I like Mudbloods; they make me uneasy. It's the way I was brought up Harry, and you've known that all along. Like I said, I'm not going to apologise for it either. But it doesn't mean that I think we should go around killing them all. I agree with his politics, but not his methods." Harry had stared at him angrily, before dropping his shoulders and sighing. "What else did you expect?" Draco had asked.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." The disappointment in Harry's voice had hurt Draco much more than he would ever have been prepared to admit. Draco had thought about all that Harry believed in, so completely without question, and had almost envied him. To be so sure that everything you were doing and thinking was right, that there were such easy distinctions between those in the right and those in the wrong, must be such an easy way to live.

"I can't believe in something as blindly as you do Harry," he'd said softly.

"You could believe in me though."

"I do! It's just..." he'd stalled, grappling for the right words.

"What, Draco? What?"

"I didn't want to be drawn into this. How could I ever fight for a cause I only half believe in? Either way it would never have worked." Harry had sighed once more.

"I suppose you're right, in a way. At least I know you're not completely evil." Draco had smiled then and they'd lapsed once more into silence, this one much more comfortable.

*

The courtroom had become uncomfortably hot. Draco had been told that it was a warm, mid-summer's day outside, and the heat seemed to permeate even the dingy underground room he was temporarily confined to. He watched as Fudge ran a finger around his collar. The portly, aging man appeared to be slowly melting, and Draco found that he couldn't really blame him for being so impatient.

He let his eyes sweep over the gathered crowd, and wondered when his life had become such a spectator sport. After spending so many private moments with just Harry, it was odd to have so many people interested in what he had to say. His eyes locked with a pair of sparkling blue ones, and he blinked.

Dumbledore was staring at him.

The man was an enigma to Draco. He got the idea that he played the role of the bumbling old fool very well, but that there was something much more intelligent and calculating going on beneath the surface. His father had always told him not to underestimate the man; that he wasn't as stupid as he appeared, but Draco had merely dismissed this for years, putting it down to paranoia on his father's part. He wasn't so sure now. He vaguely remembered Professor Snape's words:

"...I think Dumbledore is sympathetic for some unknown reason, he may have some sway..."

Draco had to see Harry once more, if only to preserve his sanity, so that he could see he was being cared for, that he was getting everything he deserved; everything Draco couldn't give him. If Dumbledore was willing to help, he wouldn't complain.

Draco nodded ever so slightly, before looking away from his headmaster.

"After Christmas was horrible. There was something building, you could feel it, and everyone was so tense."

"What was building?" Fudge asked, apparently confused.

"The war of course."

"What war? There isn't any war going on." Draco groaned internally. 'Stupid little man with your stupid politics.'

"Not yet there isn't." Fudge glared at him as Draco smiled brightly at him. "Anyway, everyone was really stressed, so the teachers decided to give us an extra Hogsmeade weekend, just to help us release some of the pressure. I thought it would be good for me and Harry, especially for him. We needed to get away from everyone else and a Hogsmeade weekend was the perfect idea. So I began to make plans. Things had been really difficult between us and I thought it would be the ideal opportunity to clear the air. Sort of."

*

"I was thinking about this weekend-" Draco had cornered Harry after a particularly boring Potions class that he had spent planning what to do over the weekend with Harry.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I thought I'd spend it with Ron and Hermione." Harry looked distracted. He kept looking over his shoulder to where Weasley and Granger were waiting for him, glaring daggers at Draco. He stared at Harry, and felt indescribably hurt.

"You forgot..." he said dully.

"Yeah, you don't mind do you? It's just that I think I should spend some more time with them," Harry said quickly, looking Draco in the eye now. It was the casual tone that hurt the most, as though it wasn't really important. Why didn't Harry see that it was important?

"No I...it's fine."

"So, can I see you later?" Harry asked nonchalantly, oblivious to Draco's reaction.

"Urm, no, I'm, urm, busy." Draco suddenly felt the very strong urge to leave. To get away from Harry's enquiring eyes and his friends' glares.

"Busy? With what?"

"Just work. Got that essay from Flitwick remember?"

"I thought you'd finished that already. You were going to help me with it." Harry's voice was worried now. He was paying attention.

"No, it's not finished yet. Look, I've got to go." Draco turned and began to walk away quickly.

"Draco!" Draco carried on walking and tried to ignore Harry's confused voice which seemed to float through his mind and strangle every ounce of hope he had managed to build up over the last few months.

*

"Harry was thoughtless, and it was one more thing that I didn't need. Looking back, I don't think I should have reacted the way I did, he had a lot on his mind, but he'd hurt me."

"What did you do?"

"What I always do of course. I tried to cut him off again. It was probably the worst time to do it though, because it was around then that the Slytherins became more, urm, physical in their threats towards me. There were a number of incidents." Draco tried to phrase his words carefully.

"Did you inform your head of house, Professor Snape?" Draco laughed derisively.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I didn't." Fudge appeared puzzled.

"Why not?"

"What would have been the point? It would only have made things worse for me." Fudge frowned slightly but carried on.

"Give us an example of what they did to you then." Draco sighed heavily and drudged up the most vivid memory.

"Well, I was still angry with Harry about the Hogsmeade weekend, I'd spent the whole week ignoring him and I think it was starting to irritate him. I'd avoid him in the halls, barely acknowledge him when he tried to talk to me, I was basically acting like a brat. I started taking odd routes to lessons, old passages that no-one used anymore, that sort of thing. Anyway, apparently my housemates were paying a lot of attention to where I was going every day."

*

Draco found himself suddenly thrown against the wall as he rounded a corner. His back scraped uncomfortably against the rough stone and his head jerked back, hitting the wall and momentarily blinding him with stars. Stunned, he did nothing but gasp for a moment, before his vision cleared and he was confronted by a pair of icily calm, brown eyes.

"Blaise," he stated, trying not to sound intimidated. He looked past the boy's face and grimaced. "And Pansy, Vince, Greg, Anthony, Charles." A couple of burly, but surprisingly intelligent seventh years appeared to have joined his former friends. He placed his hands on Blaise's shoulders and shoved him backwards. "If you wanted to talk to me, you only had to ask."

"Shut up Draco," Pansy snapped, moving to stand beside Blaise. Vince and Greg hovered menacingly in the background. Draco was reminded of why he became friends with them in the first place. They really were very intimidating. They possessed a certain looming quality that his own unfortunate stature lacked.

"What do you want?" Draco snapped, desperately attempting to regain his composure. Neither of the Slytherins said anything, they merely pulled out their wands, smiling. Draco shifted slightly, his eyes flickering between their pointed wands and their faces. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.

"Is this it?" he asked, in a disappointed voice. "Is this all you've been planning? Just cornering me and hexing me into oblivion? I thought you had more originality." Neither wand wavered for a moment.

"Oh Draco," Pansy purred. "You really should give us more credit than that. Besides, we only wanted to talk."

"Then what're the wands for?"

"Ah, well, think of it as a warning more than anything else. Or a promise of things to come?" she answered silkily.

"We've been practising Draco," Blaise cut in. "It really is amazing how much you can learn in such a short space of time."

"I really don't want to know what you spent your holiday doing Blaise, as thrilling as I'm sure it was."

"Hmm, I think you might be interested." Blaise paused and took a step forwards. Draco leant away from him and felt the wall on his back once more. The cold was seeping through his robes and he fought a shiver. Blaise put his hands on the tops of his arms and pushed him back further. He leant further forwards and whispered into Draco's ear, his breath hot and moist. "And I promise that you'll find out. Soon."

"Draco?" At the sound of Harry's voice, Blaise jumped back, letting go of Draco, who merely stood and stared at him. Harry rounded the corner and stopped short when he saw Draco surrounded by the other Slytherins. Draco closed his eyes and turned his head away, wishing fervently that Harry would just go away.

"What's going on?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Blaise said. "We were just passing by. See you later Draco." Draco kept his eyes shut but didn't fail to miss the slight pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away, moving so violently that he hit his head against the wall once more.

Their footsteps faded away and Draco heard Harry come closer to him.

"Draco?"

"Go away Harry," Draco sighed, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. "Just...go away." He then turned and all but fled down the corridor in the opposite direction the others had taken and away from Harry.

*

"I suppose I should have been glad that Harry had interrupted them, I wasn't particularly eager for them to stick around, but I was embarrassed."

"Why?"

"I didn't want him to see me in that sort of position; so weak."

"So you pushed him further away?"

"Yes," Draco answered sadly. "It's just a shame he didn't stay away."

"Two people would still have ended up dead," Fudge said bluntly. Draco's head snapped up.

"Yes, but they had a choice." His voice was quiet, but full of raw emotion. "Harry didn't."

"You had a choice too." Draco looked away, only to catch Dumbledore's eye once more. Draco scowled, resentment flooding through him, as Dumbledore looked straight at him with a benign look on his face. 'Stupid man, trying to work me out. I can almost see the cogs turning. What does he want?'

"So they threatened you," Fudge continued after a short pause.

"Yes," Draco said shortly.

"And how did you react to that?"

"Well, I was angry obviously."

"Why?" Fudge asked, as though it wasn't a stupid question.

"Why?! I'd just been threatened at wand-point! Of course I was angry! I was angry because of what they'd said, because they were trying to involve me in something I wanted no part of, because they were pushing me further towards a side that would never accept me, because they were trying to drag me down and wouldn't let me get away from my father!" Draco stopped talking abruptly, wishing he could take it back. He knew the rules about talking whilst under the influence of Veritaserum. Never give them more than they ask for, keep your answers short and to the point, pay attention to what they ask, how they phrase the question. His father should never have come up.

"Your father? I thought it was about Voldemort." Fudge seemed to focus immediately at the mention of Lucius and Draco cursed himself for it. This wasn't an area he had expected to cover and he certainly wasn't comfortable with it.

"I don't care about Voldemort. I never did. It was always all about Lucius. I was trying to get away from Lucius. It was always him who ruled my life; was always him who was important, not Voldemort."

"So once your father was put in Azkaban-" Fudge began, but Draco interrupted.

"There was no need for me to have anything more to do with Voldemort."

"Which included your Slytherin friends."

"I tried to help them," he said earnestly, and almost felt as though he was begging Fudge to believe him; as though if he could just get one person to believe that he really had tried, then maybe it wouldn't all be his fault.

"Apparently you didn't do a very good job, seeing as two of them are dead." Draco looked down at his lap, and knew that his fate had been sealed. He'd known it really, everyone had known it, he'd admitted his guilt already, and if that wasn't enough, Harry's current state could never have been anyone's fault but his.

*

He heard running footsteps behind him; pounding the ground in their desperation to get to him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was. Only one person ever came running after him anymore. Surely that should mean something? The footsteps stopped abruptly right behind him, and he heard heavy breathing. He was too afraid to speak; too afraid to turn around. Dully, he realised just how much of his time he spent being scared.

"You know," Harry said loudly, "it does feel like I'm always running after you."

"Maybe you should stop then," Draco snapped. "I thought I told you to leave me alone." Harry growled and grabbed Draco by the shoulders and turned him around roughly. Draco jerked away.

"I've been man-handled enough today thank you very much."

"What were they saying to you?"

"None of your damn business. Go back to your real friends Potter." Harry jerked back as though stung, but his hands didn't quite manage to leave Draco's shoulders.

"Look," Harry began angrily. "I know you're pissed off about Hogsmeade." Draco made a derisive noise in the back of his throat and made to turn away again, but Harry's hands on his shoulders refused to let him move. "But you're the one with the problem here, not me. I do have other friends apart from you you know."

"Don't I know it," Draco muttered.

"And it's not my fault you're such a bastard that you can't even try to be remotely pleasant when they're around." Draco opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again when he realised there was nothing he could say to contradict. 'Damn it!' Harry looked at him kindly before raising his hand to push away the hair that had blown into Draco's eyes. "They're not a replacement for you, but they are important." Draco frowned and shrugged Harry's hands off of him.

"I know that."

"Besides Draco," Harry said softly, "you know, with them, it's not the same."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it isn't."

Draco stared silently into Harry's open, earnest face, and nearly smiled.

"Listen, can we forget Hogsmeade for a minute?" Harry asked quietly, with a slight glint in his eye.

"Why?" Draco asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Because there's something I want to show you," Harry said, turning away and walking across the grounds in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Draco followed, scowling slightly.

"I'm well acquainted with Hagrid's place you know," Draco drawled. "We have lessons here."

"That's nice," Harry said, favouring Draco with a winning smile as he carried on past the cabin, finally stopping just out of reach of the sweeping branches of the Whomping Willow.

"Ah, is this some cunning plan of yours to beat some sense into me?"

"That's actually a good idea, I'll have to consider it, but no, that's not why we're here."

"Well, why then?"

"Just watch," Harry said, before picking up a long stick that lay on the ground nearby. He leant forwards slightly, aiming the stick towards the base of the tree's trunk.

"Harry," Draco said, suddenly worried. "Be careful, that thing's vicious." The branches had begun to sway dangerously, whipping around. Draco could feel the movement of the air that they caused on his face. He stretched out a hand and gripped Harry's upper arm, suddenly afraid. Then, the stick Harry was holding touched a knot on the trunk and all of the branches froze.

"It's OK," Harry said gently, removing Draco's hand. "I know what I'm doing." Draco gaped openly at Harry, as he smiled again before he bent forwards and walked towards the trunk. He reluctantly followed as Harry disappeared into a small opening Draco hadn't noticed before. It was dark inside, and he couldn't see Harry; he could barely see his hand in front of his face. It was eerily silent, as though all sound had been cut off from his ears the moment he had entered.

"Harry? Where does this-"

"Shh," Harry voice came from the darkness, very nearby. "You'll see." Draco could feel Harry's breath on his face, and he shivered.

"Lumos," Draco muttered, and the tip of his wand lit up instantly, casting a warm light which bounced off the earthen walls and low ceiling of the tunnel they had entered.

"Follow me," Harry said.

*

"So where are we then?" Draco asked as he tentatively came out of the tunnel into a small room, which had clearly fallen into disrepair. He looked around distastefully, curling his lip, and brushing imaginary dust off of his robes as though just being this close to dust made him feel dirty.

"We're in the Shrieking Shack," Harry answered nonchalantly as he exited the room and made his way up a staircase. Draco whipped around and followed him quickly.

"What?! I thought this place was supposed to be full of really violent ghosts!" he exclaimed nervously as he too climbed the rickety stairs. He watched as Harry's hand trailed up the banister, almost caressing it, as though stroking a fond memory.

"Calm down. There hasn't been anyone here for years. It was Lupin that the villagers heard all those years ago."

"The werewolf?" Draco asked quickly.

"Yes." They had entered a room at the top of the stairs, there was a four-poster bed and a number of chairs. This room looked more well-used than the others. There was no dust and the fabric covering the furniture and bed seemed relatively new.

"So how did you find that passage then?" Draco asked carefully, he had the feeling that he was missing something.

"This is where Sirius was hiding in our third year," Harry said quietly, taking a seat and staring straight at Draco, who stared back before taking the seat opposite him and sighing.

"God, that seems like a long time ago."

"A lifetime."

"And he was here? All that time?"

"Yes." Draco shifted uncomfortably and looked around again, the bed hadn't been made and it looked as though a fire had been lit recently in the small fireplace by the far wall.

"Harry, why are we here?" Harry had followed his line of sight with his eyes and he smiled slightly.

"Since Sirius died, I've been coming here on my own a lot. It reminds me of him. Nobody else knows, you're the first person I've told."

"Do you sleep here?"

"Sometimes." Draco looked at Harry again, and suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy for him.

"It won't do you any good living in the past Harry."

"I know, I don't, it's just...a way of coping." Harry turned away and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at the fireplace and muttered, "Incendio." A bright, cheerful fire sprang immediately to life in the grate. Harry took a deep breath before continuing. "Sirius was the closest I ever got to having any sort of father figure."

"I know," Draco said quietly, unsure of where Harry was going with this and definitely not sure that he wanted to hear it.

"When he died, it was my fault."

"What?" Draco asked incredulously, this was certainly not what he'd expected. "How do you work that out? I thought it was Bellatrix."

"Of course, you'd know her wouldn't you?" Harry said, suddenly staring at Draco with a look that made him want to wither away.

"Yes," Draco said with a grimace, "we've met. She's not the sanest of people." He remembered vividly the first time he had met Bellatrix Lestrange. It hadn't even been a year ago. She was not a pleasant woman to be around.

"No, I suppose not. Anyway, they used Sirius, or my affection for him you could say, to get to me. They needed me but he shouldn't have died. I was stupid, I didn't trust people; didn't listen. It was my fault."

"Harry, I don't-"

"It makes me so angry sometimes; makes me wonder why all of this has to happen to me. Why couldn't they have just picked Neville?"

"What?" Draco was very confused now.

"Never mind," Harry dismissed his comment with a wave of his hand. "That's when I come here anyway, when I start to think like that. It reminds me of a lot of things; reasons why I should carry on."

"Like what?"

"For other people mainly. Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione. You."

"Me?" Draco asked, uncertain what he had to do with anything.

"Yes, all of you are my reasons. People I care about, respect, love. I'm not living in the past, it's just that I need reminding every now and then."

"So even the great Harry Potter has doubts?" Draco asked with a smile, and felt comforted somehow, as though the fact that Harry got confused and angry too made it alright for him to be so afraid.

"Even the great Harry Potter gets tired of fighting," Harry said with a sad smile. He paused, looking intently at Draco. "I don't want to have to fight you too Draco."

"You don't have to."

"Then tell me what was going on earlier in the hallway." Draco started, unprepared for such a direct question.

"Oh, that. It was nothing," he said dismissively, and prayed that Harry wouldn't push. It was bad enough that Harry had seen him at such a vulnerable moment, but to have to explain...

"Why can't you tell me?" Harry insisted. Draco realised he was almost pleading.

"Because I don't want you to know!" Draco blurted out without thinking. "It's none of your business!"

"If they're threatening my friend it's my business!" Harry said, his voice rising slightly. Draco wondered why it was so important to Harry that Draco told him. He felt a surge of completely unjustified anger towards Harry, and snapped.

"I don't need saving! I don't need your help! There's nothing you can do," Draco finished, feeling utterly defeated as his anger drained away as quickly as it had come and was replaced by a sadness that seemed to reach to his very depths and pull at his insides. He looked deep into Harry's eyes but found that it was too much; there was too much emotion, hope there, too many questions. His shoulders slumped and his head fell into his hands. "It's my father. It's all fucking Lucius," Draco muttered, not really knowing what he was saying or why.

"What is?" Harry asked carefully.

"It's all his fault!" Draco exclaimed, his head rising again as he stared fiercely at Harry. "He's still in my head you know? I did all this to get away from him, but I can still hear him, telling me what to say, what to think, how to act. Daddy's little boy, that's me," he finished bitterly.

"Don't talk like that."

"Why not?" Draco snapped.

"Because it's not true," Harry said simply, and Draco found himself once again longing to possess Harry's blind faith in people.

"Oh please, just look at me! Ten years in the future and I'll bet you anything I'll have a ponytail."

"If you're so much like Lucius, then why are you friends with me?" Draco stopped then and stared at Harry, feeling like he'd been hit by a ton weight.

*

"God that made me think. What if I was only friends with Harry because I knew it was the one thing that would really piss Lucius off? What if everything I was feeling, all of the warmth and safety, was just something I'd imagined to make it easier to prolong the friendship? What if that was the only reason? The thought still haunts me today, and I think it makes me resent Lucius even more. He's always going to be in my head; guiding me." Draco found that now he had brought up his father, he didn't seem to able to stop talking about him.

*

"I just meant that this whole mess is Lucius' fault," Draco said, carefully avoiding Harry's question.

"I know. He must have been a very oppressive father."

"You have no idea. Being a Malfoy means a lot of things, and I had it all drilled into me. My father can be very cruel, but he always seems to have very good reasons for doing so; there's a lesson behind everything." Draco felt suddenly overwhelmed by everything, as though in the past few moments he'd felt and thought more than he had in months.

"Lucius doesn't have anything to do with us you know," Harry said quietly after a moment. He clearly hadn't failed to notice that Draco hadn't answered his question. 'Am I that transparent?'

"But he does though. He's everywhere; he's omnipresent, everywhere I go he's with me."

"I can't see him in you." Harry's gaze penetrated Draco's eyes, who felt as though he was drowning in green.

"He used to mean everything to me," he murmured.

"I think he still does." Harry's voice was equally quiet.

"I suppose so." Draco paused, and turned away from Harry. He stood up and walked towards the fire, holding out his hands to warm them even though they weren't cold. "I tried so hard to get away from him. I alienated all of my friends for god's sake!"

"And then became friends with me." Harry had stood up as well and had made his way to stand at Draco's side. He put a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Don't blame me for that. You started it," Draco said with a small smile, turning to face Harry once more.

"Picky, picky."

"It's an important distinction that has to be made."

"We're here now though aren't we? I mean, we're still here, together, and Lucius is still a long way away. He's not coming back."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Draco could feel the heat radiating out of Harry's hand which still lay on his shoulder. Orange light from the fire lit up his face, casting odd shadows. It was a familiar face to Draco now; a face which meant a lot to him.

"Lucius isn't Voldemort you know, can't you separate the two?"

"Don't you see that I don't give a damn about Voldemort and his stupid Death Eaters? It was always just about my father; about trying to be the perfect son," Draco felt the bitterness rise in him like bile, but didn't take his eyes from Harry's face. Seeing him somehow made it easier to bear.

"Why did you stop trying? Why all of this now?" Draco thought for a moment before answering.

"Because he left. He got caught. He put Voldemort above me and my mother. Have you any idea how much that hurt?"

"No, I don't suppose I do." Draco felt Harry's hand squeeze his shoulder gently before it fell away. Despite the heat of the fire, Draco missed the warmth. He moved away and re-took his seat.

"It's amazing how quickly you can go from being willing to do anything for someone to resenting every breath they take," he said as he sank back to the comfortable chair.

"Or the other way around." Harry said contemplatively. He stood for a moment longer, looking into the fire with an almost bereft look on his face. He looked down at his hand, before he too moved away from the fire and sat down again.

"Yes, the other way around too."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and Draco's mind was spinning; thinking about his father, Voldemort, Harry. It felt as though their lives had both been invaded by some invisible force that was slowly poisoning them. For a few precious months, they had managed to stave off the real world with each others' company, but it was never going to work. Sometimes in life, you really don't have a choice, and Draco was beginning to realise that this was one of those times.

"It really sucks doesn't it?" he said, breaking the silence.

"What does?"

"That no matter how hard we try to ignore it, there's going to be another war, and we're going to have to be involved. One way or another."

"You were always going to be involved Draco. You're friends with me."

*

"I think I learnt a lot that day, it sticks out in my memory more than anything else anyway," Draco said quietly, hearing his voice echo through the silent room.

"Why?"

"Because of what Harry was trying to tell me. He was saying that even he had doubts; that even he didn't really understand even after all that he'd gone through, all he'd lost."

"Harry Potter doubted his loyalty and dedication to fighting Voldemort?" Fudge's voice sounded understandably disbelieving. Draco thought that Fudge should listen to what he was saying more.

"No, that's not it. He was saying that he sometimes wondered what the point of it all was; that he sometimes found it difficult to understand why everyone he was close to, his whole family, had died in the most senseless way. He was telling me that it was OK to be disillusioned I suppose."

*