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I really love this chapter, we're finally getting some wholesome moments! I hope you enjoy too!

The rest of the day was a blur. Before he knew it, he was back in the Great Hall for dinner, and he saw Potter and Weasley sitting alone. Perfect. This would be the perfect time to try to talk to them, to ask to call them by their first names. Perhaps he could talk with Potter about their last two meetings. There had to be some reason why he was so angry all the time, and maybe he just didn't have an outlet. Draco was the next best thing to punching a wall. He took a deep breath and forced his feet to move towards them.

But as soon as he did so, Hermione had come out of nowhere and sat down next to them. Maybe I could talk to her too- No. They needed to have a private, more intimate conversation. Something was definitely off, and he didn't know if it was right to talk about it in a place where anyone could drop an ear into their conversation.

He decided to eat in the library. He found a room off towards the back, the same one that he and Hermione had shared a few weeks ago, so that he could eat in peace without Pince yelling at him. He had just finished up Pride and Prejudice, and he had picked up Ulysses, by someone named James Joyce. He had only been able to get through fifteen pages before his head hurt too much and he had to move to something lighter, which today happened to be Magical Drafts and Potions, which he'd already read four times cover to cover but he always kept in his bag.

Before long, it was almost curfew, and he had spent his entire night with his face in a rudimentary potions book and his mind on Potter and The Weasel instead of his homework. He knew he would get distracted working in his dorm or the common room, but if he stayed here, he would risk getting caught by Pince or Filch and have to serve detention.

He hoped that Hermione would be up doing the same thing, but he found the common room to be completely empty. Even the fire was out, which meant everyone was in their rooms. At least he'd be able to get some work done.

He opened his dorm door just in time to see Potter send his fist brutally into a wall.

"Mate, calm down!" Weasley shouted, running up to him. It was just the two of them, his other three roommates were nowhere to be seen. They must've been in someone else's dorm or off sneaking around the castle somewhere.

He should do something. Say something. But his feet were frozen in place, and he was just standing there like an idiot in the doorway watching Weasley examine Potter's hand.

Suddenly, Potter looked up, staring dead into his eyes. They were filled with rage and fury, and Draco could feel them burning down into his stomach, burning straight into his soul.

"Is there something you're looking for, Malfoy?" He snapped.

At this point, Draco would usually turn on his heels and run. Or maybe grab a book, pretending like he had a purpose, but still run away without a word. But things were going to be different now. He was going to be different. Don't be an idiot. Say something nice. Don't sneer at them for once.

"Are you okay?" Seriously? That was the stupidest bloody thing you could've just said right now.

The two of them just continued to stare. He took a few steps forward, kicking the door closed between them, and Weasley took a few steps to put himself between him and Potter.

"Back off, Malfoy. Umbridge already hurt Harry enough, we don't need you adding to the damage."

"Umbridge, hurting him?" He felt absolutely sick. The burning in his stomach had been replaced with a sick, twisting pain, and he felt something rising inside of him, something that felt like anger, but he just felt so sick he couldn't tell exactly what it was. He wouldn't put it past Umbridge to torture her students, but the fact that she was actually doing it, he didn't want to think about it.

"Oi, Ron, you fucking idiot. You just had to run your mouth and say something, didn't you?" Potter snapped. "Now if you could just grab whatever you came in here for and run away like you usually do, that would be brilliant."

"You need to go straight to Dumbledore-"

"Dumbledore won't do shit!" He yelled, turning his back to presumably punch the wall again, but Weasley grabbed his shoulders. "No one can find out about this. I swear to God, Malfoy, if you say anything about this to anyone, I will personally have you murdered."

"Is that a threat?" He couldn't help but sneer as Potter verbally attacked him. He sighed. "Sorry. If you won't let me tell anyone, at least let me take you to the hospital wing."

"What the hell is your aim here, Malfoy? What, you want to take him off into the halls alone so you can finally push him off the Astronomy Tower-"

"It's impossible to fall from the Astronomy Tower, they have charms in place, God has anybody ever read Hogwarts, A History?"

"Sod off-"

"Seriously. You must have broken a thousand bones in your hand. At least let The Weasel take you to Pomfrey."

"Don't call him that!" Potter shouted. "What the hell has gotten into you? You come in here and offer to take me to the infirmary but then just go and insult my friend? Please, just leave! You can't do anything but make this situation worse!"

Draco sighed. He was right. It's not that there was no use in trying to be nice to Potter, or Weasley, but now just wasn't the time. This was something very private, and him trying to butt his way into it wasn't going to help anyone. His head told him to get out of there, but for whatever reason, his heart was pushing him to go on. "Fine. At least let me look at your hand. You know I have a stockpile of potions, I could find something to at least stop the bleeding."

Potter suddenly pulled his hand into his sleeve, and his demeanor melted away. "No, no that's perfectly alright. I think it's stopped bleeding, actually. My hand is fine, there's no need to-"

"Potter, why will you not let me see your hand?" He softened his voice and took one step forward while Potter took one stepped back. Weasley just stood there the whole time, frozen in place, his head darting back and forth between the two of them.

"No, it's really quite alright. It doesn't even hurt!" They continued their game until Potter was pressed up against the wall, Draco still keeping his space but trapping Potter there.

"Give. Me. Your. Hand." Why the hell did he keep pressing on about this?

"Please, Malfoy, it's fine-"

Draco reached for his wrist, grabbing it, pulling his hand up to his face. Potter winced and turned his head away. His knuckles weren't the problem, they were barely even bleeding.

"I must not tell lies."

His heart sank even further. He can't believe she had gone this far.

"She used a fucking black quill on you?"

Potter yanked his hand back. "Of course you would know what that was. Go fuck off, seriously."

He softly places his hands on his shoulders. Potter lifted his chin back up, staring at Draco. His eyes were no longer angry, no longer fueled by fire. They were sad, calm as the sea. And so unbelievably green. "Look, you have to go tell Dumbledore about this-"

"Are you fucking dense, Malfoy?" His eyes grew cold and angry again as he shoved him off. "Dumbledore won't do anything about it! Fudge won't even believe him about Voldemort coming back, I highly doubt he'll believe him about this! It's all just going to circle back to her, and she'll- she, it- it'll just get worse." By the time he had finished, he had sounded scared.

He knew he really shouldn't press on about it anymore. "I'll get a potion. To help with the bleeding."

He returned quickly with a vial and a cloth. He sat on the edge of Potter's bed, with Potter next to him and Weasley sitting on his bed across from them. He tipped the vial onto the cloth and began gently dabbing it on the words. He winced.

"I know it stings, it sucks, I am sorry. But it will stop the bleeding. I have never heard of someone getting an infection from a black quill, but sometimes it will scar. This should help prevent that."

He just stared at him.

Weasley finally spoke up after being silent for so long. "No offense, Malfoy, but why the hell are you helping him? Did someone obliviate you? Give you a nasty head injury? Are you sure we shouldn't be taking you to the hospital wing."

Honestly, Draco didn't know the answer to that question.

He knew he needed to be nice to them to be friends with Hermione, but he could do that without butting his head into this mess. He could do that without sitting here, on Potter's bed, without holding his hand and healing him, without making an attempt to comfort him in the only way he knew how, by babbling on about potions to distract him and let his mind wander.

Instead, he just croaked out "I fucked up."

Weasley nodded. "Yeah, yeah you really did. It's not entirely your fault, you had every right to be mad at her. But why'd you close yourself off for an entire week?"

He sighed, pouring the rest of the vial on the cloth. "Because it is the only thing I know how to do."

Potter looked up at him, his eyes even sadder than when he was yelling about Umbridge. "That's not true-"

"You know it is. I did it for four years." They sat in an awkward silence as Draco finished rubbing the potion on his hand. "You know, I am surprised you have not punched me in the face yet."

He could feel Potter clench and unclench his fist. "Believe me, I want to. But I'm trying for Hermione."

The way he said her name hurt. He's been able to say her name, on a first name basis, for years. He's had two weeks and threw it all away.

"I really, really miss her." He choked as he corked the empty vial. "And I, well Neville helped me realize that if I want to be friends with her, then I at least have to try to be nice to the two of you." He gave them a weak smile. "I'm sorry I intruded on this, it was personal, but I just couldn't turn back and I don't know why."

"Neville, huh?" Potter said. Weasley didn't say anything in response to Draco, just muttered something about needing to use the loo and left the two of them alone. "You're on a first name basis with him too, I see."

He gave a soft smile. "Yeah, I am trying to do away with the whole pureblood ideology shit, you know?"

He only nodded in response. They sat quiet for a little bit, hearing the faint sounds of the bathroom in the background. "You can call me Harry, if you want."

He felt something flutter in his heart, but he didn't know if he should really be so ready to give him a chance, after everything that he's done in the past few weeks. But on the other hand, maybe he was in the very same position that he found himself in at the moment. In desperate need of a friend.

"Only if you agree to call me Draco."

Draco was scared, but he was relieved when he nodded and smiled. "I don't want to be fighting the way we have been. I miss our banter and teasing. The punches, the shoving against lockers, it's just- it's all a bit much, isn't it?"

He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Yeah, it really is."

Harry outstretched his hand. "Let's make things right?"

Draco's mind flew back to when he had first talked to him, boarding the train to Hogwarts. He was the one who had outstretched his hand, asking for Pott- Harry, to forgive him for being a little shit in the robe when he first met him. And he might as well have taken that handshake and thrown it in the trash, after he blamed Harry for the sorting and continued to do so for years.

But this time was going to be different. This time, he was going to actually make things right.

He took his hand, smiling. "Let's make things right."

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