Draco was flying, it was the quidditch pitch and a game although he couldn't make out any details other than the cold rain and the broomstick handle he was clutching tightly with both hands. He needed to focus. He needed to fly. His team was relying on him, and he wasn't going to be an embarrassment.

He just- but it was so cold, and he suddenly remembered that he hadn't flown in two years, he hadn't practised for ages. How could he win without practising? He wasn't ready- He gripped the broom tighter with the sudden surge of fear, the ground so very far away and- and he fell. One moment on his broom, the next he was plummeting towards the ground-

Draco jerked awake and sucked in a startled breath. A shudder racked through him eventually settling into a persistent shiver. He had fallen asleep on top of his blankets and was chilled to the bone.

A high pitched whistle made him look towards the dark end of the room and pull his arms tight around himself as he followed the sound.

Draco carefully stepped onto the floor, sweeping his foot around until he found his discarded trousers and pulled his wand out of the pocket, casting lumos, illuminating the room in pale blueish light.

The room was empty. Draco didn't feel anyone other than Potter downstairs. In the silence, his ears started picking up the sound of the wind outside, gusting against the tower. With every gust came that whistle and cold. Draco followed it to the double doors leading out onto the balcony. The latch holding the two doors together had slipped off just enough for the wind to push inside.

Draco pressed his hand against the doors, holding them closed and then unhooked the latch. He let the wind open the doors fully and shuddered, taking a step out to the waist-high bannister. He braced his hands on the bitingly cold stone, leaning over and looking down at the castle turned into grey silhouettes by the faint light from the windows below. The dream was already fading from his mind as he stared down at the ground, trying to call up the terrifying sensation of falling. But there was nothing there, not even a suggestion of vertigo.

He shivered hard and stepped back inside, shutting the doors tightly behind him and went back to bed.

-

Harry groaned as his alarm spell went off, reaching up and waving around blindly for his bedside table, and finding nothing. He dropped his hand onto the wood floor, the hard edge of the cot digging into his arm. Harry shoved his face into his pillow with a beleaguered sigh, he wasn't in Gryffindor tower. He kept forgetting.

The alarm spell continued to wail. Harry finally leaned over, grabbing his wand and glasses off the floor. He dispelled the charm and put his glasses on with a yawn. He sat on the edge for a while, gathering the will to stand up.

The faint clatter of Malfoy's breakfast tray appearing on the table forced Harry to his feet. He didn't want to miss his own breakfast, he had enough trouble paying attention in class without an empty stomach to distract him even more.

He grabbed his uniform, neatly folded and cleaned by the house elves overnight, and changed quickly, frowning at how cold it was. There was still a low fire in the grate, but the tower was cold as ice. Harry threw a few more logs on the fire before going upstairs to use the loo, wincing at every creak of the wooden floor that he knew Malfoy would chew him out for. But Malfoy was quiet, curled up in his blankets and down comforter.

Harry figured Malfoy would probably try to startle Harry as he left.

He didn't.

Harry counted himself lucky and hurried down to the dining hall.

-

"Today we're going to be expanding our work on shielding spells," Professor Quintquick said, her soft voice barely carrying through the room. "All of our basic protego's are exemplary, so today we will be working on our protego maxima-" she cast the spell as she spoke creating a bubble-like barrier around herself- "If we can master the strongest shielding spell then we can use the rest of our time combining our shielding spell with a fianto duri, and a repello inimicum. Together those three spells make a barrier that is almost impenetrable by force or magic-"

The room was almost unbearably silent. Quintquick was so quiet a sigh could drown her out, so even those who didn't care if they got top marks in their NEWTs were careful to keep quiet to avoid the wrath of those that were.

Harry stopped listening. Defence was the only class he knew he would get an Outstanding on the NEWTs without much effort. The written part of the exam was the only thing he really needed to study. And he'd end up going over it all with Malfoy whether he liked it or not.

At least he was better at teaching Defence. Transfiguration was so fiddly.

Malfoy had been so quiet when Harry went upstairs. He hadn't even seen Malfoy the night before. Harry frowned to himself, wondering if he should have checked on him.

There was a thundering CRACK! a flash of light and Harry was under the desk, back pressed to the solid wood, his wand drawn. His hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline.

Harry felt someone pressed tight to his shoulder and glanced over at Ron who looked pale, his wand gripped tightly in his hand.

"...What is this? What is going on?" Quintquick's voice said, as loud as she ever raised it.

Harry could hear Hermione sigh, "Well, the sound probably triggered their PTSD-"

"Our what-"

"PTSD, it's-"

"What is a p-tee-s-dee?"

There was a pause, filled with Hermione's almost palpable frustration. "fine..." she said through clenched teeth, "Shell shock?"

"Oh," Quintquick said, "Spell shock, of course. From the war."

"Spell shock," Hermione repeated flatly.

"Yes?"

"Spell. Shock."

"We read about it after the first war," Quintquick said.

"Great," Hermione said and slipped under the desk next to Ron with a muttered, "spell shock."

"Will we be continuing our lesson?" Quintquick asked.

Ron shifted, carefully putting an arm over both Harry and Hermione's shoulders pulling them close. "Go on without us," he called out to her.

"This is most-"

But Harry didn't hear the rest as Hermione cast a privacy spell around the three of them before leaning into Ron.

"That went well," Ron said.

Hermione sighed, "Neither of you were paying attention, were you?"

"What for?" Harry said, "We know the spell."

"So you wouldn't be startled by the spells exploding on the protego in the professor's demonstration," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't be hugging my best friends right now," Ron said, giving them a squeeze.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You're going to have nightmares."

Ron shrugged, "Do most nights anyway, so-"

Harry hadn't. He hadn't had a nightmare since he started staying with Malfoy.

It was always so peaceful in the tower, even when Malfoy was being a shit. Malfoy was a quiet sleeper too... but he said he woke up as soon as Harry left, and he always at least glared at Harry when he used the loo in the morning. Malfoy said he 'walked too loud', whatever that meant.

Harry had found Malfoy's clothes on the floor of the tower when he came up last night, well found, he tripped on them and nearly fell over the couch. That was strange. Malfoy was kind of a slob, which seemed weird to Harry, but he kept the main floor clean, it was only his bedroom that was always a mess-

"Mate? Harry?" Ron's called, "Thinking about Malfoy again?"

"What?" Harry said, feeling his face flush, "What? Malfoy- I- No."

"I mean, you were," Ron said.

Hermione nodded, "You have this look when you're thinking about him. We saw it enough in sixth year."

"I was right about that, about Malfoy being up to something," Harry said.

"Well, yes..." Hermione said, her tone conveying that Harry wasn't going to like what she said next, "But it made things worse, didn't it? You might have been able to help Malfoy, but you got rather fixated on catching him, and then you ended up- well I looked up the entomology of that spell you used on him, and you never said it was as bad as it must have been, It's a very dangerous spell."

Harry stared at his feet, trying very hard not to remember the bathroom, and all the- no. He wasn't going to think about it.

"I thought that's why you were helping Malfoy, you were trying to make up for that," Hermione said.

Ron frowned, "I was pretty sure it was because Harry fancied him."

"Oh," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Harry froze, the breath caught in his chest.

"That makes sense as well," Hermione said.

Harry stared at them in dismay. "What?" he said shakily, "That doesn't make sense. None of that makes sense."

"The candy? The babysitting him while he's ill?" Ron said.

"Thinking about him all the time," Hermione said, "You used to stare at him, even more than you watched Cho."

"I didn't stare at him. At least not- I mean," Harry said defensively, "look, he's always been attractive, so that's just- anyone might look. ...well, okay, he wasn't all that attractive until fifth year, after that growth spurt he had in fourth year that made him kind of stretched out. But him being attractive is just a fact."

Ron and Hermione looked at one another.

Ron cleared his throat, "Yeah... I mean I'm not really keen on blokes, but he's got a bit of a pinched face, doesn't he?"

Hermione nodded, "Purebloods and rich muggles all tend to have the same sort of... unique bone structure-"

"Inbreeding," Ron said.

"-right, and I wouldn't say there aren't people who find that sort of look attractive. He is very striking," Hermione said, "But it's not really a universal sort of appeal."

Harry opened his mouth to protest and shut it again, acutely aware that it would not help. "I don't fancy him," he said stiffly.

Ron and Hermione were quiet, and Harry hoped that would be the end of it, though he didn't work up the nerve to look at them and see what sort of expressions they were sharing.

"What colour are his eyes?" Ron said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"What colour are Malfoy's eyes?" Ron asked again.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Come on. We don't bite," Ron said.

"...Grey."

"Aren't they blue?" Hermione said.

"Could be," Ron said.

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione. "They're grey."

"I could have sworn they were blue," Hermione insisted.

"No," Harry said, "They're light grey, like in the wrong sort of light it almost looks like he has no irises, and it's kind of creepy."

"Oh," Hermione said, her eyebrows rising, "Then what colour are Parvati's eyes?"

"What?" Harry's brow furrowed in thought. "Brown?" he hazarded.

"What about Neville's?" Ron asked.

"...Brown?"

Hermione blinked at him, "What about Seamus?"

Harry shook his head with a sigh, "I don't know. Brown?"

Ron snorted, "That's rather sad, mate."

"Brown is a common eye colour!" Harry said.

"In muggles," Hermione said, trying not to giggle, "Unique eye colours are far more common in the magic community. And Parvati and Padma have purple eyes. They're a bit dark, but Parvati used to brag about them all the time."

"Nev's eyes are closer to yellow than brown, like Lupin's were," Ron said.

Hermione turned a surprised look on him.

"What? We partner up in Herbology all the time," Ron said, "I happened to notice."

Harry frowned at them. "And Seamus' eyes?"

"Brown," Ron and Hermione said together and then burst out laughing.

Harry combed a hand through his hair, pulling it over one shoulder with a sigh.

Ron gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Why would I like Malfoy of all people," Harry muttered, "He's such a tit. He goes out of his way to be difficult just to rile me up."

"I don't think you'd get on with someone who wasn't at least a little difficult," Hermione said with a faint shrug.

Ron nodded in agreement, "I figured that's why you and Ginny got on as well as you did. You pushed each other in the right sort of way. Like Hermione does for me."

"You and Hermione argue all the time," Harry said.

"And that works for us," Hermione said with a shrug.

Harry's frown deepened, "You're both being rather good about this. This is Malfoy we're talking about. I'd be upset if it were one of you."

Hermione huffed a faint laugh, "If it were one of us, there would have to be love potions involved."

Ron shuddered, "Ugh."

Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Still," Harry said.

"Well..." Ron said, "We might not have a reason to trust Malfoy, but we trust you. If there's something about Malfoy you like then he must be worth liking, at least a bit."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling overwhelmed and confused and strangely relieved.

Ron hugged them both tighter to his chest, "This is nice. We ought to skip class more often."

"No, we should not," Hermione said without missing a beat.

They started quarrelling, and Harry rolled his eyes, though they were to busy to notice.

Malfoy had a fever the day before and a milder one a few days before that. Harry's brow furrowed in thought, trying to remember the last time Malfoy had been really sick... It was when he'd passed out at the end of class, and Harry had to carry him to the hospital wing. What if that was happening again?

"Class is over," Ron said into his ear, his breath tickling and making Harry jump back. He hit his head on the underside of the desk as Ron laughed. 

Harry aimed a kick at him and managed to hit Ron's backside, getting a satisfying, "Ow, you bloody nuisance!"

"If I'm a nuisance so are you," Harry said, pulling himself out from under the desk.

"I agree whole-heartedly. You're both nuisances," Hermione said, collecting the notes that her quill had been enchanted to keep taking even after they decided to ditch the rest of lessons.

"Aw, Hermione, I thought you liked me," Ron teased.

"I can do both," Hermione said, "Being fond of you and you being a nuisance are not mutually exclusive."

Ron gave an even louder even more melodramatic groan which made Hermione smile and then try to hide it behind an unconvincingly serious expression.

"Erm, I'm going to go-" Harry grimaced, "-check on Malfoy."

"He's not doing so well?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged, "Maybe? I don't know. He doesn't tell me anything. I think he's allergic to asking for help."

Ron grinned, "That's something you have in common then."

"I don't-"

"You do," Hermione interrupted, "You can't tell me if we didn't come with you whenever something went wrong over the years, you wouldn't have just tried to do everything on your own."

"Anyway, I might be late for class," Harry said as he collected his bag.

"It's Binns, it wouldn't matter if you never showed up," Ron said.

Hermione elbowed Ron in the side, "I'll take notes for you."

"Thanks," Harry said to both of them and for a lot more than just notes.

-

Harry didn't run up the tower steps, he just walked as fast he could until he reached the trap door, pushing it open and- the breakfast tray was untouched. Harry tugged on his hair nervously as he hurried up to the second floor.

Malfoy was laying on his back, his hair clinging to his forehead and darkened to a straw yellow by sweat.

"Malfoy?" Harry said hesitantly.

Malfoy opened his eyes, looking at him blearily, almost unfocused before closing them again, "......-way."

"What?" Harry asked, walking over to the side of the bed.

"Go away," Malfoy said faintly.

"This is one of the bad fevers, isn't it?" Harry asked.

"How did you guess?" Malfoy said sarcastically.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Look, what can I do?"

"Nothing," Malfoy said, "...go to class so you'll actually be useful."

"Hermione's taking notes for me-"

"Go. Away." Malfoy huffed, "I don't want to go to sleep. I hate them."

"Hate...what?" Harry asked. He cleaned off Malfoy's chair, trying to make a neat pile on the floor.

"Dreams. Nightmares," Malfoy said.

There were clothes strewn everywhere and two other piles of schoolwork and borrowed library books, one had fallen over, cascading across the floor. "Both of them?"

"No," Malfoy dragged his arm across his forehead, "I don't know. I can't remember. They're about flying, and they feel wretched. So go away."

"Not until you tell me what to do," Harry said.

"I did."

"More than leaving," Harry said.

Malfoy huffed, shifting restlessly against the mattress.

"...I would have thought dreams of flying would be nice. You're pretty good," Harry said.

"Was," Malfoy said with a frown. He opened his eyes just enough peak out from under his lashes, "I haven't flown since fifth year."

"So? It's not like you've forgotten how to do it," Harry said.

Malfoy shook his head, "You don't understand."

"Understand what?"

Malfoy shook his head again.

"Come on," Harry said.

Malfoy pushed his head back into his pillow, looking frustrated, "I haven't flown in two years. I haven't practised."

Harry's brow furrowed.

Malfoy scowled at him "I don't think I hated you more than the day you caught Longbottom's stupid toy."

"Really? That's-"

"No, wait," Malfoy interrupted him, "It was when I found out you'd never flown before."

Harry turned away from Malfoy, hiding his grin with a rather unconvincing cough.

"No, that's not it- It was when you got on the team in first year. I was so angry I threw up," Malfoy said.

"Really?" Harry said.

Malfoy grimaced, shifting around again like there was an itch he couldn't reach between his shoulder blades.

"What can I do?" Harry asked again.

Malfoy muttered something under his breath.

"What?"

"You're intolerable," Malfoy said, just loud enough to be heard.

"If that's what you want to call 'helping you out when you're ill', go right ahead," Harry said.

Malfoy didn't respond.

"Come on, chickadee," Harry said and then felt himself start to flush. 'Chickadee' was a lot easier to say when he was just teasing. Now it seemed to mean a bit more than that.

"Intolerable," Malfoy said, and then sighed, "My nutrient and strengthening potions, in the bathroom."

Harry jumped to his feet, grabbing the two large bottles from the potions cabinet by the sink and bringing them back to Malfoy, conjuring a table beside his bed so they would be within easy reach. "Anything else?"

"Water," Malfoy said, struggling to sit up.

Harry reached out, catching Malfoy's shoulder and pulling him up. Malfoy's bare shoulder. The sheets fell down to his waist as he straightened up, showing the pale expanse of his shoulders and back, marked by a few small moles, like tiny drops of ink on parchment.

"Water, Potter," Malfoy repeated stiffly.

Harry jumped and quickly conjured a glass and filled it with an aguamenti.

Malfoy took the glass with a frown, sipping the water, his frown deepening.

"Is- should I get some water from the tap?" Harry asked.

"No," Malfoy said, "It's fine." He set the water down to open the nearest potion bottle, struggling with the cork.

Harry opened the other one for him.

Malfoy tipped the bottle back, drinking straight from the mouth, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He put the bottle back with a grimace and picked up the other, drinking quickly and then washing it all down with the water. Malfoy shuddered as he put the glass back, and it fell on its side, rolling off the table and clattering onto the floor.

"Stop staring," Malfoy said bitterly.

Harry blinked, his face feeling even more flushed.

"Or are you enjoying looking at your handy work?" Malfoy said, leaning back to show the crisscrossing lines of pale scars all across his chest that Harry hadn't even noticed before.

Harry's stomach clenched, and he swallowed hard, the taste of bile at the back of his throat.

"Or maybe this?" Malfoy said even more bitterly, turning his left arm over to show a painfully raised pink scar, all that remained of the dark mark after Voldemort had died.

Harry felt the chair press against his back when he couldn't pull any further away. He clenched his jaw, fighting not to be sick, the bite of acid sharp in his mouth.

Malfoy studied him, his expression carefully blank before he slipped his arm back under the sheet, "Calm down, Potter, you didn't have anything to do with this."

"Why-?" Harry said faintly.

Malfoy scowled faintly at him, "Why? Why? It wasn't a choice. You don't choose the mark, it was given to you. You couldn't say no to the dark lord."

Harry shook his head and then cleared his throat with little success, his voice coming out hoarse, "The scars...Snape said he'd use dittany-"

"He did," Malfoy said wearily, "He managed to get rid of the scars on my face..." he reached up absent-mindedly running a hand down his neck where Harry could just make out a faint scar that started under his jaw and went down to his collarbone. He probably wouldn't have noticed it if Malfoy hadn't touched it.

Harry took a deep breath and then another.

Malfoy's brow twisted with uncertainty for just a moment before he covered it up with a half-hearted scowl. He grabbed the sheet pulling it back up over himself as he dropped back into the bed.

"Don't think about it," Draco said reluctantly, "It's done."

Harry took a shaky breath, pulling off his glasses and carefully wiping them clean on the edge of his robe. When he put them back on, he could see that Malfoy had closed his eyes again, he looked more pink than before, sweat beading on his brow.

Harry was supposed to be helping.

"...There's your breakfast downstairs, I could bring it up," Harry said.

Harry thought for a moment that Malfoy had fallen asleep, or was pretending to have fallen asleep, when he said, "Tea."

Harry stood, holding onto the back of the chair and then the wall as he went downstairs, stopping in front of the table and staring numbly at the array of foods.

He had to take another deep breath and then leaned on the table. Cold water soaking his clothing- He had tried so hard not to think about what had happened that day. Blood- He had pushed it out of his mind, had- Harry grimaced in dismay- he had been so fixated on hiding the potions book and tricking Snape, and then Ginny had said it was alright and he had clung onto that and... Dark magic-

He squeezed his eyes shut, and what had Malfoy done that deserved the spell Harry had cast? He'd let death eaters into Hogwarts at the end of the year, but at the time he hadn't done anything that bad. And he'd had no choice, his and his families lives were at risk- you couldn't say no to the dark lord- he had no one to help him. Snape's only 'help' was killing Dumbledore when Malfoy couldn't, and Dumbledore... He had known, and only offered Malfoy protection when it was too late, when he knew he couldn't actually do anything-

Harry swallowed hard, squeezing his hands into fists and trying to control his breathing. Hermione had been right, he did need to make up for what he had done to Malfoy. Ron might've been a bit right as well, though finding someone attractive wasn't the same as liking them as a person, Harry was certain of that.

He counted to ten in his head, taking a few deep breaths and then did his best to get on with it. He transfigured a plate into a serving tray and carried up all the tea things, jingling and rattling with every slightly shaky step.

"You like your tea sweet?" Harry asked, setting the tray on the edge of the table and filling the mug.

Malfoy opened his eyes just enough to see, "I thought you left."

"Err, no..." Harry said. He cleared his throat, "Your tea?"

"One sugar," Malfoy said.

"Only one?" Harry asked, dropping in a single sugar cube and stirring it in, trying not to bang the spoon against the sides too much.

Malfoy nodded. He squirmed back onto his pillow, so he was slightly propped up, keeping the sheet tucked tightly under his armpits.

"Do you want any more pillows?" Harry asked.

" 'M not going to be up that long," Malfoy said irritably, holding his hands out for the mug.

Harry passed it over, "It's hot."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, blowing on the tea before taking a sip.

"...I could conjure some more pillows if you wanted them or blankets, whatever you want," Harry said.

"I don't like conjured pillows," Malfoy said, sounding like his younger self, spoiled and whiny.

Harry turned on his heel, acioing his own pillow from the cot downstairs, "You could have this one."

Malfoy stared at him, his cup frozen a breath away from his mouth, "Your pillow?"

"Yeah? It's not conjured," Harry said.

Malfoy's face went slightly redder, perhaps from his fever or the tea which he set aside, sliding back into bed, "...fine." He held out a hand and took Harry's pillow, placing it next to his own.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged faintly, "More water. A stasis charm to keep the tea warm."

Harry did both and waited hopefully for more direction. "...is there-"

"You can go away now. It'll be over soon enough," Malfoy said, waving him off and closing his eyes.

Harry hesitated and then took a step back, "...Alright, I'm gonna go for a bit. I'll be back later."

Malfoy made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat.

Harry nodded to himself and hurried down the stairs.

-

Draco sighed.

There was a sinking feeling in his chest that he dimly recognised as guilt. He had gone too far with the scars. He knew, unfortunately well, that the guilty feeling would only grow as time went on.

He almost missed back before fifth year when being rude and cruel had been easy, and he hadn't felt bad about anything he had done. Now, even those memories had weight to them.

Draco shifted against the sheets. The restless itch that he couldn't scratch was spreading, down his back and arms, he clenched his hands in anticipation of the feeling tingling through his fingers. It felt like it was under his skin like it was reaching to his very marrow, twitching, growing, changing him-

He shuddered and reached up, pulling Potter's pillow down, hugging it tight to his chest and burying his face in the pillowcase, trying to memorise the scent caught in the fabric. After a moment, he reached under his own pillow, fishing around until he found the blue hairband and slipping it back around his wrist.

Draco felt himself flush again, embarrassed at even the thought he might be seen being so foolish.

But it was too nice not to.