How to Save a Life

Over the next few days Harry felt like he was gradually becoming weaker. He slept almost constantly outside of lessons and though Draco was the epitome of the caring boyfriend, Harry figured that the blonde was probably feeling quite frustrated.

On the nights that Harry managed to stay awake long enough to make it to Draco’s bed, he was inevitably too tired to engage in anything more taxing than sleeping. Not that Draco made an issue out of it. In fact, if Harry hadn’t experienced it for himself, he would never have believed that the Slytherin could be so caring and considerate. He never raised a murmur of protest when Harry would snuggle down under the covers, leaving him to take care of his own ‘pressing’ needs.

Draco reflected that he hadn’t wanked this much since he had first discovered the pleasure his hand could bring as a young boy.

It didn’t seem to matter how much sleep that Harry got, it was never enough. There were dark smudges permanently under his eyes, which had lost any sign of their old shine. His skin had an unhealthy pallor and his head seemed to ache constantly.

Granted it was nowhere near the pain he was used to experiencing following one of Voldemort’s visions, but it was a dull, nagging ache that never seemed to ease.

Harry’s appetite had been affected also much to Draco’s displeasure. After several mornings of watching his boyfriend either push his food about listlessly or simply not turning up for breakfast, Draco decided it was time to take action.

On Thursday morning Harry walked down to the Great Hall with Neville, trying to maintain a conversation in between yawns. His head was feeling better as he had managed to snaffle a pain relieving potion on one of his, invisibility cloak aided, night-time forays around the castle. Added to that there were the muggle energy boosting pills that he had managed to get George to buy and owl him. All in all Harry wasn’t feeling too bad, all things considered.

As Harry started to tread his usual path towards the Gryffindor table, eyes cast down to avoid seeing Ginny, he felt Neville take hold of his arm and begin to pull him to the right.

Harry stopped and looked at his friend in confusion.

“Err, Neville, the tables that way,” he indicated with a nod of his head.

Neville shook his head firmly, a smile in place. “Not this morning it isn’t, I’ve had my orders.”

“Orders?” Harry spluttered, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Neville’s smile faded slightly in the face of his friend’s irritation but he began pulling Harry in the direction of the Slytherin table all the same.

“Draco,” was all the explanation he offered, but Harry didn’t really need anything further.

At their approach Pansy scooted along and made room for Harry between her and Draco, while Neville dropped down next to Blaise.

“He didn’t put up a fight then, Longbottom?” Draco drawled.

Neville shook his head, “Nope, no trouble at all,” he mumbled through a mouthful of bacon that he had snagged off his boyfriends plate.

Draco winced at this but managed to restrain himself from reprimanding the other boy for his table manners and settled instead for glaring at Blaise who was smirking at him knowingly.

“I am here you know,” Harry snapped indignantly.

Draco turned to his boyfriend and patted his arm gently, “Of course you are, Harry, now eat.” He wound up with a pointed glare at Harry’s plate which sat; empty, in front of him.

When Harry made no effort to fill his plate, Draco snatched it up and began loading it up with various food items.

“But, Draco,” Harry whined, “I’m not even that hungry. I’ll never eat all that.” His bottom lip pouted and Draco had to suppress a strong urge to lean down and suckle on it.

“You can and you will,” replied the blonde in a tone that brooked no argument. “It’s that or I pin you down while Pansy force feeds you.”

“It’s a little early for me to engage in such kinky behaviour, but if you want to restrain me later...” Harry trailed off with a suggestive wink at his boyfriend.

“Harry,” Draco began in a warning voice, “You’ve hardly eaten in days and you’re getting skinny. If I had wanted a scrawny boyfriend I would be dating Theodore.”

“Hey,” came the injured cry from the thin boy on Draco’s left side. “How did I manage to get dragged into your domestic?”

“Sorry, Theo, just using you to illustrate a point. It’s nothing personal you understand? And you,” he turned to Harry with a glare, “eat!”

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Neville beat him to it.

“Maybe you should have a word with Madam Pomfrey, Draco. I’m sure she would have just the potion to get Harry eating again.”

Harry stared open mouthed at the usually quiet Gryffindor, silent accusation in his eyes.

“You may have a point, Neville. How about it, Harry? It’s that,” he indicated Harry’s plate with a jab of his finger, “or Pomfrey.”

There was no question of which option Harry would choose, as well Neville had known when he made the suggestion. As lovely as Madam Pomfrey was, Harry had a hearty dislike of the hospital wing, borne of too many stays there in previous years.

He gave a mournful look at Neville, “et tu, Brute?” he muttered. Then, seeing the confusion on Draco’s face he added, “Sorry, muggle literature reference, I keep forgetting you won’t get it.”

Draco scoffed, “Please Potter, I know Julius Caesar when I hear it. I’m just a little surprised that you know Shakespeare.”

“But why would you...” Harry began. Then, taking in the amused smirk on Draco’s face, his mouth gaped slightly. “Are you trying to say that Shakespeare was a wizard?”

“Yes,” Draco nodded, “Well, actually more of a squib. As if a muggle would have that much talent, really Harry.” The blonde shook his head in amusement before turning back to Harry with narrowed eyes.

“Now stop sidetracking and eat!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next week Harry became a permanent fixture at the Slytherin table, with Draco closely supervising his eating habits.

Harry felt like he should be rebelling against this level of control but it left him with a warm fuzzy feeling of being cared for that he was most unused to. As a result of this he acquiesced to Draco’s demands willingly.

Pansy too found herself the subject of Draco’s intense scrutiny. Like Harry, Draco had not been convinced by the vague explanation she had given for her injuries. As a result, Pansy found that she was managed to the extent that she rarely had a moment to herself, except the bathroom and bed.

As much as Pansy was chafing against the restraints on her freedom, she understood the concern behind Draco’s actions and she too complied with out protest.

The shared experience of Draco’s somewhat controlling affection led to Harry and Pansy becoming closer and spending an increased amount of time in each other’s company. They regularly banded together in teasing Draco over what they called his ‘mother hen’ act.

Pansy did consider, on several occasions, confiding the truth to Harry. But she was still wary of how he would react to her accusing Ginny when it was apparent that he and the redhead were on improved terms of late.

Harry, for his part, had to admit to himself that since Draco’s intervention he was certainly feeling much better. The headaches had all but gone and he felt his energy levels increasing by the day.

Plus, the more time he spent with the Slytherin’s, the more intrigued he was by them. The way there was an acknowledged, but unspoken, hierarchy at their table, the way they had just accepted his presence at Draco’s side without dissent as a mark of deference to their blonde leader. Most surprising of all was their unquestioning loyalty to each other that would have put a Hufflepuff to shame. All in all, Harry found that he continually had to reassess his opinions of Slytherin house.

All of this went some way to explaining Harry’s confusion the following Saturday morning when, on approaching the Slytherin table, he saw that Draco was not seated in his rightful place. Not even bothering to scan the remainder of the table, Harry knew there was no way Draco would be sitting lower down; he sank down into his assumed place at the side of Pansy.

“Where’s Draco?” he asked instantly and was then forced to wait impatiently as Pansy swallowed a mouthful of food.

“He had to go see McGonagall,” Pansy explained.

A quick look at the head table confirmed the Head Mistresses absence, and on closer inspection Harry noticed that Professor Slughorn was absent also. He turned back to Pansy who answered his next question even before he had asked it.

“I don’t know what it’s all about and I don’t think Draco knew either. He seemed as curious as the rest of us when Professor Slughorn came to fetch him.”

Harry felt a growing knot of worry twist in his stomach. It had to be something important enough to make all concerned miss breakfast. He tortured himself for a few minutes with various possibilities before a sharp dig to his ribs brought him back to his current surroundings.

“Eat something, Harry,” Pansy advised. “You know Draco will ask and I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if you don’t.”

Reluctantly admitting the truth of this statement, Harry nodded and began filling a bowl with steaming porridge.

He ate thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the door waiting for a familiar blonde head to appear. By the time the owls had been and gone with the mornings post, there was still no sign of Draco and Harry was finding his breakfast increasingly hard to stomach.

He was so lost in thought that the increased chatter in the hall went unnoticed, as did the pointed stares that were directed at the Slytherin table. He didn’t even spot a brave 2nd year girl making her way to their end of the table and pressing a copy of that mornings edition of the Daily Prophet into Pansy’s hands.

He did, however, hear the loud clatter as Pansy’s goblet dropped from her hand and crashed against the table, covering everyone in range with pumpkin juice.

Harry turned concerned eyes to the dark haired girl.

“Pansy, what is it?” he asked, alarmed at how pale her face was. She raised wide eyes to his and thrust the paper at him by way of a reply.

Confused, Harry took the paper from her slightly shaking hands and instantly realised the cause of her distress. The bold headline almost leapt off the page.

‘DEATH EATER AT DEATHS DOOR!’

Underneath was a picture of a sneering Lucius Malfoy in his pre Azkaban finery. There followed an explanation of how he had been suddenly taken ill whilst in prison and was not expected to live much longer. The writer seemed almost positively happy to be reporting this news, and whilst Harry could privately understand this emotion, his only thoughts at this moment were for Draco.

Pansy was already on her feet tugging at his arm, “C’mon Harry, we have to find Draco.”

Harry sat dazed for a moment but at the sight of Blaise getting to his feet as well, he jumped out of his chair and soon all three of them were heading out of the door. They decided to head up to the North Tower, in the hope that Draco would still be in McGonagall’s office and they could catch him on the way out.

As luck would have it they didn’t need to stray anywhere near this far to locate their friend. As they made their way into the Entrance Hall, they were met with the sight of a downcast looking Draco talking to Professor Slughorn. The three friends came skidding to a halt and watched as their teacher gave Draco what he thought was a comforting pat on the shoulder before walking away.

Harry’s heart ached at the sight of his boyfriend, who just stood in the vast hall looking so small and lost. Harry hurried over and reached Draco long before the other two realised what was happening. He placed his hand on Draco’s arm and a pair of startled grey eyes turned to look at him.

Harry could tell that Draco was struggling to maintain his composure and was sure he would not want this to be witnessed by the many students that Harry could now hear exiting the Great Hall. He took hold of Draco’s arm and pulled him down a corridor just off the Entrance Hall. He led them into a room, which he instantly recognised to be Firenze’s divination classroom by virtue of it currently resembling a forest glade

Harry shut the door quickly and cast a quick locking charm against it. He turned to look at Draco and found it was like looking at a young child. He was stood still with his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed so that his face was hidden behind the platinum curtain of his hair.

Harry quickly closed the gap between them and tentatively brushed the hair back from Draco’s face.

“Are you ok?” he whispered softly.

Draco made no reply other than to fling himself into Harry’s arms and hold on tight. They stood, locked in this silent embrace for several minutes. Harry could almost feel the blonde in his arms struggling to regain his composure and didn’t want to say anything that would shatter the fragile hold that Draco had on his self control.

He stroked his hand down the back of Draco’s head, his fingers gently caressing the nape of his neck. His lips pressing light kisses to his boyfriend’s temple.

“They won’t even let mother visit him,” Draco said brokenly, pulling back from Harry’s arms and turning sad eyes to the Gryffindor.

“What?” Harry’s sense of justice was outraged instantly. “They can’t do that.”

Draco shrugged, “technically they can. Until this blasted investigation is closed she is still under house arrest. Plus we’re Malfoy’s, so it’s not like anyone is going to be in a hurry to care.”

“Well I bloody well do,” Harry raged, angrier because of the defeated expression on Draco’s face than anything else.

“It’s ok, Harry.” Draco replied with a watery smile, pulling back from the embrace. “We’d better go otherwise Pansy will ‘reducto’ her way in here any second.”

Harry was about to argue that it most definitely was not ok, but Draco’s eyes were pleading with him to leave it. Harry briefly captured Draco’s lips with his own, trying to pour everything that he wanted to say into that kiss. Draco seemed to understand; he pulled back and taking Harry’s hands into his own pressed them tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “It means a lot that you care.”

Both boys then walked to the door, only dropping their hands as they exited the room. Pansy and Blaise immediately swooped down upon them but a forbidding look from Draco prevented any maudlin behaviour.

“I’m ok,” he said stoically.

Pansy slipped her arm through Draco’s and the group turned, heading as one in the direction of the dungeons. As they walked across the Entrance Hall there were many other students milling about. Draco kept his head down, not wanting to be subject of his classmate’s curiosity. They were halfway across the hall when a shouted comment brought them to an abrupt halt.

“Hey, Malfoy, sorry to hear about your father.”

There was no mistaking the derision with which these words were spoken. Harry watched as Draco’s whole body tensed up and his fists clenched at his sides. He placed his hand on the blondes shoulder.

“Don’t, Draco,” he muttered. “It’s what they want you to do.”

Harry was relieved to see the fists unclench and they made to continue walking. Not happy at being ignored, the heckler tried again.

“Yeah I was really sorry to hear that the bastard wasn’t dead already. Still, there’s time yet...”

Draco barely had time to process his reaction to this comment before Harry had crossed the Hall and landed a strong punch, sending Wayne Hopkins crashing to the floor.

“I suggest you stay down and keep your mouth shut,” Harry warned his voice cold and toneless.

Harry looked round for Draco and was surprised to see a crowd had formed round him. Draco was separated from him by several rows of people and Harry just wanted to climb over them to comfort his boyfriend. Both Pansy and Blaise gave him an approving nod but all Harry wanted was to hold Draco in his arms again.

Before he could do anything a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Harry, mate, you need to calm down.”

Harry looked round and found himself staring into Ron’s concern filled eyes.

“I’m fine, Ron,” he answered tightly, but he allowed the calming hand to remain on his shoulder.

“Harry, you shouldn’t have done that. There’ll be trouble now.” A bushy head appeared at the side of Ron and Harry found himself irked further by the worry in Hermione’s brown eyes.

As if to bear out the truth of Hermione’s words, a stern voice sounded from behind them.

“Mr Potter, what is the meaning of this disgraceful behaviour. That will be 20 points from Gryffindor and detention with me, Monday night.”

Harry looked at Professor Sinistra’s angry face, then down at Wayne Hopkins’ bleeding nose and felt that it was completely worth it.

“Yes Professor,” he nodded dutifully, “Sorry.”

“Miss Granger, perhaps you could escort Mr Potter back to Gryffindor tower and see to it that he calms down before setting him loose on the unsuspecting student population again.”

Harry’s head jerked up at this, “But I was...” His eyes drifted in Draco’s direction, indicating where he wanted to go.

“I’m sure that Mr Malfoy’s friends are more than capable of seeing to his needs without you.”

Harry choked down the urge to bite back that Pansy had better not be seeing to his boyfriends needs. He cast an apologetic look at the blonde who only shrugged apathetically.

Hermione’s hand was on his elbow, “Come on, Harry.”

Harry followed but had never resented his friend more than at that moment.

The walk back up to Gryffindor tower was painfully silent. Harry stalked ahead while Ron and Hermione followed behind; he was annoyed just imagining the looks that were passing between the two of them.

He spat the password at the Fat Lady and slammed through the portrait hole, not even pausing to hold it open for the other two. He headed straight for his dormitory, not heading Hermione’s plea’s to stop and talk about it.

Harry made his way into his bedroom and flung himself down on his bed. He had barely got comfortable before the door was opening and Hermione’s bushy hair appeared, followed by the nervous looking girl herself.

“Harry,” she began tentatively, as she perched on the edge of his bed. “What happened back there? It’s not like you to lash out like that. Well, maybe it is a little, but you hardly know Wayne.”

Harry kept his lips stubbornly pressed together and refused to make eye contact with her. If he thought that this would get rid of her, then he was sadly mistaken.

“Was it something to do with Malfoy?”

Harry sat bold upright at the mention of Draco and Hermione was a little startled at the anger in his eyes.

“He told Draco that he hoped his father died.”

“Oh,” Hermione gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. “How is his Father?”

“Why do you care?” Harry accused, but relented at the hurt expression on Hermione’s face. He rubbed at his eyes, “I don’t know really. They won’t let his mum visit him.”

“That’s terrible.”

Harry looked at his friend, as if checking for the sincerity of her words.

“What?” she asked, stung by this. “Yes, I think Lucius Malfoy is a bastard. But that doesn’t mean I want him dead. How come they won’t let her?”

Harry just shrugged, “She’s still under investigation. The Ministry have been dragging it out for months and until it’s over she can’t leave the house.”

“But surely they would make an exception under the circumstances?”

“You’d think that wouldn’t you, but Draco seems to think that the Ministry is rather enjoying making the Malfoy’s suffer as much as possible.”

Hermione looked thoughtful at this, “He may well be right. People have long memories and Lucius Malfoy has made plenty of enemies in his time.” She stopped for a moment as if choosing her next words very carefully, “How’s Malfoy doing?”

“How do you expect?” Harry snapped, unable to help himself.

“Sorry, Hermione,” he shook his head. “He’s upset, angry, all the things you would expect, I guess. I didn’t really get chance to talk to him properly and he’d only try to put on a brave face anyway. Draco loves his father, despite everything, and I’m worried about how he’ll react if he doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye at least.”


“Couldn’t someone speak to the Ministry on their behalf, plead their case sort of?”

“And who’s going to do that?” Harry demanded bitterly. “You said it yourself; the Malfoy’s made a lot of enemies. Most people won’t care and the majority of them will probably just think they deserve everything they get. God, Hermione, if it wasn’t for Draco, I would probably be thinking that too.”

Hermione agreed reluctantly with this sentiment. She had her own personal reasons for not caring what happened to either of the elder Malfoy’s. Memories of being tortured in their home were still too fresh in her memory for any goodwill to exist. She placed a hand on Harry’s leg and rubbed absent mindedly while she thought, the silence in the room quite oppressive.

“Harry,” Hermione gasped in a tone that one would use to cry ‘eureka!’ “You’re the Boy Who Lived – Twice!”

“And that’s relevant how exactly?” Harry had a sneer on his face as he spoke.

“Take that look of your face,” Hermione reprimanded. “You are obviously spending too much time in Malfoy’s company; you’re even picking up his facial expressions.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, but didn’t exactly sound like he meant it. Hermione decided to let it go and ploughed on with what she was saying.

“You saved the wizarding world from Voldemort.”

“Hermione,” Harry interrupted sharply. “As wonderful as all these complements are, could you get to the point please?”

With a roll of her eyes and a barely suppress tut, the bushy haired girl continued without even acknowledging her friends outburst.

“What I’m trying to say is that if the ministry were going to listen to anyone about the Malfoy’s, then it would be you. They owe you a debt, Harry.” She dismissed his protest with an impatient wave of her hand.

“I know you hate all this gratitude and fame, but surely if you can use it to do something good for a friend, then it’s worth it. If anyone can do it, it’s you. For God’s sake, Harry, you’re on first name terms with the Minister.”

“So you’re saying what? That I should just Owl Kingsley? That will take too long; Draco’s father could be dead before that letter gets to him in the ministry.”

Again, Hermione rolled her eyes and gave a small shake of her head. “Harry, Harry,” she sighed, “If you had ever bothered to read Hogwarts – A History, you would know that there is a direct fire link between the Heads office and the current Minister.”

“So I could just Fire call him from McGonagall’s office?” Harry’s eyes were wide with hope now and Hermione was relieved to see the defeated look had left his face.

“In theory, yes. Of course, you would need to get Professor McGonagall’s permission first and I don’t know how easy that would be, even for you.”

“But it’s worth a go,” Harry replied as he clambered off his bed and wrapped his friend in a warm hug. “Thanks Hermione, you’re a legend!”

Harry took a step back and smiled at the girls flushed face, “You better not tell Ron that I did that. He might get the wrong idea!!”

“You’d better not tell Pansy either then.”

“What? Oh yeah right.” Harry was momentarily thrown before realising that Hermione thought there was something between him and Pansy. In a split second, Harry decided not to correct her; it was easier to have his friends think that than it ever would be for them to know the truth.

“Why are you doing this, helping Draco? You hate him.”

“I don’t hate Malfoy. I don’t like him particularly, but I’ve never hated him. As to why I’m helping, well let’s just say that I have revised my opinion of him recently and come to believe that he is not quite the evil git that everyone likes to think. Though I ‘m sure you have already worked that out for yourself.”

Harry smiled at this, “What changed your mind? In fact, I don’t need to know. It’s enough that you have. Do you think you could perhaps explain this to Ron and then maybe we could get back to how we used to be?”

“I think it will take a lot more to convince Ron. There are generations of family feuding between him and Malfoy, it won’t be that easy.” Then, seeing the look on Harry’s face she added, “but I’ll try.”

“Thanks, for everything.” Harry pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, “I have to go see McGonagall now, I‘ll let you know how I get on.”

“Good luck,” Hermione murmured softly as the door closed behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry ran the entire way to the North Tower and had to pause at the bottom of the steps leading to McGonagall’s office while he regained his breath.

He knocked firmly on the door and it was opened almost instantly.

“Mr Potter, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

The Headmistress held the door open and motioned Harry inside. He sank gratefully into one of the comfy chairs at her desk and quickly refused her kind offer of refreshments.

“Can I assume that this has something to do with this mornings... disturbance?”

Harry looked up guiltily at this, “You know about that?”

“There isn’t much that escapes my attention. I must say I was most surprised to hear about your behaviour.”

“I’m not sorry,” Harry stated defiantly.

“No, I don’t suppose you are, but I cannot condone it either. Rest assured that Professor Sprout will be having a very serious conversation with Mr Hopkins about his behaviour. Now how can I help you, Harry?”

Thus prompted, Harry began to speak and the words just came tumbling out all at once.

“Hermione said that you have a fire link to the Minister’s office in here. The Ministry won’t let Draco’s mum visit his dad and she, Hermione that is, thought that maybe I could speak to Kingsley direct and he might be able to do something about it.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyebrows had risen steadily throughout this explanation.

“Let me get this straight, Mr Potter. You want to use my fireplace to contact the Minister of Magic personally and ask him for clemency for the Malfoy’s?”

“Pretty much,” Harry nodded, squirming uneasily in his chair.

“Well, as I live and breathe. I never thought to hear you pleading Mr Malfoy’s case, you have certainly grown up, Mr Potter, and into a fine young man too.”

Harry flushed bright red at this compliment, but his Headmistress was still speaking.

“However, I am afraid that I cannot grant your request. That fire link is to only be used by the current Head teacher of Hogwarts and I simply cannot give you permission. It is guarded by a password and whatever previous Head teachers may have done, I am not at liberty to disclose that to you.”

Harry’s heart sank at this; he had been so sure that this would work, that if he could just speak to Kingsley then he could make everything ok for Draco. Before he could argue his case further, Professor McGonagall was out of her seat.

“If you could just excuse me, Mr Potter, I need to step out for a moment. I won’t be long.”

Harry watched as she left the office and then turned his gaze longingly to the fireplace. He was so close and yet without that bloody password, he couldn’t do anything. McGonagall’s words came back unbidden to him and caused Harry to think.

What was it she had said about the password? ‘Whatever previous Head teachers may have done.’ Harry knew she had to be talking about Dumbledore, that he would have given Harry the information. But that was a pointless thought, Dumbledore was dead and this was hopeless.

Harry rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, sighing deeply. He was roused from his self pity by the sound of a small cough. Thinking that Professor McGonagall had returned he sat up straight and looked round. Seeing no one there and thinking that he was hearing things, Harry turned his head back to face front, staring unseeing at the desk in front of him.

Some slight movement caught Harry’s attention and when he looked up to investigate, he found himself looking into a pair of twinkling blue eyes.

A short while later as he dropped down onto the mat in front of the fireplace, Harry cursed his own stupidity at not taking McGonagall’s hint earlier. Of course she wouldn’t have been able to give him permission to use the fire link, but she had all but told Harry to ask Dumbledore for the information and had then left the room to give him the opportunity to do it.

Dumbledore had readily provided the required password along with a few words of approval for Harry’s actions. Harry felt a little uncomfortable talking with his old Headmaster. There were still too many lingering resentments on his part regarding how the old man had kept him in the dark over important matters.

Harry tried to push these thoughts from his mind as he cast ‘incendio’ into the grate and then stuck his head into the flames calling “Kingsley!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry made his way from the North Tower straight down to the dungeons. He had done his best and was hopeful that he had been successful. He had become friendly with the bald headed Auror during the war with Voldemort and Kingsley seemed refreshingly unchanged since he had become Minister.

He let himself into the Slytherin common room with the password that Draco made sure he always knew. Harry looked round the dimly lit room in vain for a sign of his boyfriend, but he did spot Blaise lounging by the fire.

“Where’s Draco?” he demanded without preamble.

“He’s in the dormitory, Pansy’s in there with him.” Blaise replied.

“How is he, Blaise, really?” Harry was nervous to hear the answer but needed to know all the same.

The Italian boy shrugged, “He’s a Slytherin, who knows what’s going on behind that mask of his.”

Harry turned on his heel and headed quickly for the boys dormitories. When he pushed open the door to Draco’s room he found the blond curled up on his bed with Pansy sat at the side stroking his hair. At the sight of Harry, Pansy stopped what she was doing and stood up. Draco murmured in protest and opened his eyes, as they fixed on Harry, a small smile crossed his face.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Pansy said, heading for the door. As she passed Harry, she whispered, “Take care of him.”

“Always,” Harry answered without having to think about it.

He made his way over to the bed and lay down next to his boyfriend. Draco crawled into Harry’s arms and buried himself against his chest.

“I can’t talk about it, Harry,” he explained. “Could you just hold me?”

Harry’s lips pressed against Draco’s briefly and his arms tightened around the blonde boy’s lean frame. Harry lost track of how long they lay there like that, in silence. But eventually Draco’s breathing slowed and Harry realised he had fallen asleep.

Looking at his boyfriend’s vulnerable face Harry was overwhelmed by the emotions that coursed through him. At that moment he knew without a doubt that he was in love with Draco, and that thought terrified him more than facing Voldemort ever had.

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