the ripple effect

1. proceeding by inquiry.'

August 1995

The Black Manor was, also, a house of many mysteries. The first mystery was how it was concealed so perfectly from the sight of all beings, magical or not – Draco hadn’t been able to ask yet. The second, was how Draco had been unable to find the kitchen an hour ago but was now able to run there in less than ten seconds.

He was lucky he didn’t wake Walburga’s portrait, as he flew down the stairs, almost slipping and gripping the bannister tight for balance. 

As he reached the kitchen, he saw that there were only a few people there to greet Harry and Mr Weasley: Sirius, Lupin and Mrs Weasley. Draco wondered where Hermione and Ron were, but then he remembered what Harry had said in his letters and wondered if Harry had told them to stay away. “Harry,” Draco grinned, as he pushed the door. 

Harry turned to Draco, a deep scowl etched into his features and his eyes showing an anger that, had Harry been anyone else, would have made Draco run for the hills. Then, Harry’s face melted into a relieved smile, a spark of joy in his eyes. 

Had Draco been looking at the adults in the room, he would have noticed the curious glances between them as Harry practically ran to Draco and hugged the boy tightly, without a single word, but Draco’s focus was solely on Harry, as he buried his face in Draco’s neck. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, suddenly realised how much he had missed Harry. “Miss me?” Draco teased, biting back a laugh as Harry nodded, tightening his grip on Draco. 

Then, Harry quickly pulled himself from Draco, his eyes staring directly into Draco’s. Draco felt his face burn. “Why are you here?” he asked, though he didn’t sound upset, just curious. 

Draco chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dumbledore thought it would be safer,” Draco explained, noticing that the adults in the room were watching them with wide eyes. He pushed their expressions to the back of his mind. 

Harry was silent for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here,” he sighed, and Draco felt his face go a deeper shade of pink as Harry leaned his head on Draco's shoulder. 

“How did it go?” Draco asked, brushing his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

Harry groaned, lifting his head. “I was acquitted,” he replied, and the entire room breathed a sigh of relief. “But the Ministry can go fuck themselves,” he grumbled, making Sirius bark with laughter as Lupin tried his best not to join in. 

“Harry!” Mrs Weasley accosted, frowning at Harry’s use of language. 

Mr Weasley shook his head. “In all fairness Molly, I agree with the sentiment,” he sighed, causing all those in the room who weren’t at the Ministry, to glance between the two with matching frowns. 

“First, they move my trial forward an hour, without telling me,” Harry listed, as he tapped his foot, scowling at the ground as if it had swallowed a beloved pet. “Then – then –“ he began, pacing about the kitchen. “They move it to be with the entire fucking Wizengamot,” Harry spat, his voice getting louder as he paced. 

Mrs Weasley didn’t try to correct Harry this time. 

After a moment of stunned silence, Sirius placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, forcing him to stand still. Draco watched as Harry glowered, still, at the floor, but took deep breaths in the presence of his Godfather. 

“They did what?” Sirius asked darkly, turning to Mr Weasley, who nodded. “I thought it was a simple underaged Wizardry charge?” 

“So did I,” Mr Weasley replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sat next to Ms Weasley. “Merlin knows what they thought they’d achieve,” he said, and Draco agreed. He couldn’t imagine that the Wizengamot were thrilled about the change, just as much as he knew Harry wasn’t. 

“It appears, that all they wished to do, was make an example of Harry,” Lupin said, as Sirius muttered something to Harry no one else heard. “An abysmal one at that.”

“An example of what though?” Draco asked. 

Lupin rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t say for sure, perhaps to feed into the crazed idea they want the media to have of him?” he offered, apprehensively. Draco couldn’t tell if it was due to a lack of confidence in the idea, or because of the presence of Harry. 

Sirius shook his head, his jaw clenched. “Those motherfu-“ he began, only to be cut off by a cough from Mrs Weasley. 

Feeling his own anger rise, Draco took a deep breath as he noticed Harry pressed at his side, leaning on him ever so slightly. 

Unsure if it were from anger or tiredness, Draco felt Harry tremble. “You’re okay Harry,” Draco whispered softly, his voice only audible to them. “And the Ministry are a bunch of arseholes,” he added, smiling when he heard Harry chuckle, feeling his shoulders shake against his own.  

“You’re too posh sounding for swear words,” Harry mumbled, biting back a grin when Draco flicked his ear. “Git,” he muttered, smiling at Draco, in a way that made his heart skip a beat. Harry glanced at the others in the kitchen and noticed they had begun their own conversation. With a sigh that told Draco he was used to it, Harry lightly tugged at Draco’s fingers. “They’ll be talking for a while, follow me,” he said, guiding Draco into the corridor. 

Once they were out of earshot of Walburga, Draco asked, “So what’s it like to be a criminal?” jokingly. 

Harry grinned, biting back a laugh. “Terrific,” he deadpanned. “Tons of fun,” he said, throwing a grin at Draco. “You know, it’s strange, but what I was going to miss the most, if they expelled me, was the Hogwarts treacle tart,” Harry admitted, smiling at the memory of it. 

Draco tried not to laugh (he truly did), but he couldn’t help himself. “Honestly Harry. You face the Wizengamot, and your thoughts are on Treacle tart?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Shrugging, Harry tried to keep a straight face. “I’m a man of simple pleasures Draco,” he replied, the façade breaking for a moment as he laughed. He covered it with a cough. 

“So, you were acquitted?” Draco asked, his hands in his pockets. He cursed himself for asking a question he already knew the answer to. 

Harry nodded. “I mean, there wasn’t much they could say against me really, but there was this one woman,” he paused, and Draco could practically see the thoughts fly through his mind before he shook his head. “I was found not guilty, and now I’m exhausted,” Harry yawned. 

“Shit, sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about it,” Draco apologised, looking at the ground as they walked. 

“Still too posh to swear,” Harry chuckled, yawning again. “And I’m just tired really,” he shrugged, smiling as Draco glanced sideways at Harry. “Honest,” he insisted, and suddenly they found themselves at the library.

Draco made a note to ask Sirius about how this house operated. 

“Why did Dumbledore bring you here?” Harry asked, as they sat on one of the sofas, where Draco could see the book he was reading earlier, perched on the table. 

Draco chewed his thumb, before sighing. “Auntie Andie thinks it’s part of his plan, and I’m inclined to agree, although, what that plan is, I have no idea,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. 

Harry rolled his eyes, groaning. “That sounds about right,” he muttered to himself. “You know how Ron and Hermione didn’t write me?” he asked. Draco nodded. “Yeah, well, apparently, that’s because Dumbledore told them not to.” 

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out the reasoning behind that decision. “Why –“

“I’ve not a clue, neither do they,” Harry continued, leaning into Draco with a sigh. “Dumbledore’s plans aren’t brilliant, are they?” he asked, with a humourless chuckle. Draco hummed in agreement. “I’m not even mad at them – Ron and Hermione – but Dumbledore…” 

“You know,” Draco began, absentmindedly playing with Harry’s curls. “My Aunt gave me this entire talk about how Dumbledore operates before I arrived here,” he said, looking at Harry before turning to the ceiling. “How he is convoluted, and expectant of people.” 

Harry nodded with such vigour, Draco was surprised his head didn’t roll off. “Exactly!” he exclaimed, sitting straight. “Like, he expects me to be completely okay with the fact he tried to isolate me for the entire summer,” Harry said, moving his hands furiously as he spoke. “Because ‘Dumbledore always has a plan’,” he sighed. 

Draco suddenly made a connection. “And you just want to be included,” he said, watching as Harry threw his head back into the sofa. 

“Yes,” he said softly. “I mean, Voldemort wants me dead anyway, why not at least tell me the plan,” he frowned, staring at his hands. 

Draco cringed at the mixture of Harry’s casual mention of You-Know-Who and death. He placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I think I understand,” he said, smiling sheepishly when Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “In their own way, I think people want to let you live a happier life than one of war,” he explained. 

“But I can’t,” Harry said, squeezing his hands into fists. “I’m at the top of Voldemort’s kill list.” 

“Which is why I agree with you, he should talk to you,” Draco nodded. “To figure out where you personally stand on the matter.” 

Harry nodded. “Thank you,” he said, smiling at Draco. “Anyway, how are you? How was your summer?” he asked, as he shook his head. He then grinned at Draco, who couldn’t help but grin back.

“Ahh, well, you know me,” Draco shrugged, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Wild parties, staying out all night, the usual,” he said, with complete sincerity, making Harry snort with laughter. “But yes, it’s been like living in a different reality,” Draco admitted. 

Harry tilted his head. “Really?”

Nodding, Draco rubbed the back of his neck. “I went from being surrounded by the idea of war – death – and then to trying to figure out how Muggle money works,” he shrugged, laughing nervously. “Which! Is so much more difficult than it needs to be,” he added, making Harry bite back his laughter. 

“Draco…” Harry trailed off, unable to look at Draco without giggling. 

“What!” Draco exclaimed, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Don’t laugh at me you git, it’s a legitimate concern how many different coins they have,” he said, only making Harry laugh more. “And the shapes Harry, the shapes,” he added with a solemn sigh. 

Harry looked as if he was on the verge of exploding. “I mean, the Wizarding money system is no better, I can never remember what it is,” he said, and Draco looked aghast. 

“But it’s only three types of coin,” Draco insisted. “Twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, simple,” he shrugged, as if it was memorable. 

“What about that is simple?” Harry asked with a small laugh. 

“Well –“ Draco began, but he found he was unable to finish his sentence. “It’s a growing up in the Wizarding World thing, isn’t it?” he asked, appalled with himself for missing it. 

Harry nodded. “Oh definitely,” he grinned. 

Draco groaned. “Sorry,” he muttered, trying to hide in his jumper. 

Laughing softly, Harry placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, no one can be worse than Ron,” he joked, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughed. “Merlin, I haven’t laughed this much in ages.” 

That statement made Draco’s stomach drop, but he agreed. “Me neither,” he said, glancing at the ceiling. “Harry,” he said softly, getting the other boy’s attention. “How are you?” he asked, his eyes never leaving Harry. 

Opening his mouth to reply, Harry seemed to second guess himself. He sighed. “I’m – not sleeping well,” he admitted, avoiding Draco’s gaze, and opting to look at the carpet instead. 

“Nightmares?” Draco asked, turning to face Harry completely. 

Harry nodded. “Pretty much every day,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Not all, war related,” he mumbled, as if he didn’t really want Draco to hear that part. 

“Well,” Draco smiled. “If you ever need someone to talk to in the night,” he offered, and Harry snapped his head towards Draco, meeting his eyes. 

“You mean it?” Harry asked, as if there was a joke he had missed. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “No, I just offered for you to wake me up at a Godforsaken time in the morning because I’m bored,” he deadpanned, his tone making Harry laugh and duck his head. “Of course I mean it!”

Harry blushed, shrinking a little. “No need to be a prat about it,” he mumbled, and Draco muttered an apology, his ears turning pink. “But thank you,” Harry smiled, making Draco’s heart stutter. 

With a nod, Draco tried to find his voice. “No problem,” he said, cursing himself when he felt his face flush light pink. “Ergh, I can’t be sentimental anymore,” Draco groaned, shaking his head. 

Harry shook his head at Draco, furrowing his eyebrows as he let out a shaky laugh. “Aren’t you the Hufflepuff?” he asked, making Draco groan again. 

“It truly is my biggest flaw,” Draco sighed with a sombre nod as he raised a hand to his chest. 

Harry snorted, resting his head on Draco’s lap. “Yeah, definitely, that’s your biggest flaw,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

Draco started to run his fingers through Harry’s hair. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, looking at Harry’s eyes to see him raise an eyebrow. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry grinned, raising his hand to pat Draco’s head. 

“No, no, don’t try to weasel your way out of this Potter, you’ve piqued my interest,” Draco insisted, internally remarking on how soft Harry’s hair was. “So, tell me – what’s my biggest flaw?” he asked, biting back a grin as Harry smiled at him. 

“You, Draco, are a complete, and utter, tosspot,” Harry said, laughing as Draco scoffed and hit him with one of the sofa cushions, repeatedly. “Hey – hey,” Harry spluttered between bursts of laughter, sitting up and shielding his face with his arms. 

“Git,” Draco sniffed indignantly, although he was grinning from ear to ear. 

“Prat,” Harry replied, lowering his arms slowly. 

Draco snorted. “Mother of – you, Harry Potter, are highly annoying, did you know that?” he asked, still smiling. 

Harry pointed a finger at him. “Your smile says otherwise,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. 

“My body does not represent me in this case,” Draco shrugged, folding his arms and looking away from Harry. He hoped Harry couldn’t see his faint blush. 

He could practically hear Harry rolling his eyes, when he noticed the library door begin to move. There was a flash of ginger and two voices. 

Draco noticed Harry looked as if he was considering hiding behind one of the shelves. “Honestly Ron,” Hermione hissed. “I highly doubt that – oh,” she said, blinking at Draco and Harry on one of the sofas. 

“Told you we’d find ‘em,” Ron grinned, waving at the two of them. 

Draco gave a short wave and a small smile, and he once again noticed that Harry looked as if he might make a run for it. 

Harry had mentioned that he didn’t blame Ron and Hermione for how things transpired over the summer, but that didn’t mean that he was completely all right with them, as Draco had assumed. 

“Malfoy, how long have you been here?” Ron asked, as the pair descended the staircase. 

“I’m not… too sure…” Draco replied, but his focus was on Harry, who was staring at his hands and now glued to Draco’s side. 

He bumped his shoulder to Harry’s, grabbing the boy’s attention. He raised an eyebrow at Harry who sighed, shaking his head a little. 

“How did you find us?” Draco asked, pulling his eyes from Harry to see Ron sit on the sofa opposite, whilst Hermione glanced longingly at the books before joining him. 

Ron shrugged, leaning back into the sofa. “There aren’t many places that we can actually get into – locked rooms and all that,” he explained, his eyes flickering to Harry. 

Draco nodded, and saw that Hermione looked just as uncomfortable as Harry did. He didn’t need to be a genius to figure out there was something the trio needed to discuss; the tension in the air was almost as thick as concrete. “I’ll just be –“ he gestured to the entrance of the library, grabbing his book off the table. 

As he stood, however, Draco felt a hand catch his wrist, keeping him where he was. He turned to see Harry scrambling to his feet. “I’ll go with you,” he said, his eyes pleading with Draco to not ask any questions – not yet at least. Draco sighed.

“Harry –“ Hermione began, but Harry cut her off. 

“Just – not yet,” Harry said, staring at his shoes whilst Draco pretended there was absolutely nothing more interesting than the book cover he was currently holding. “I’m not ready yet,” he said faintly, climbing the stairs and rushing from the library. 

Draco shot the duo a sympathetic look before following him. Harry hadn’t gone far, he was waiting by the door, and when Draco closed the entrance to the library, Harry released a breath that made it sound as if he had been holding it. “I thought you didn’t blame them?” Draco asked nonchalantly, as if it were a question about the weather. 

“I don’t,” Harry said, and Draco could tell Harry wasn’t going to elaborate. 

With a small smile, Draco shook his head. “Such a man of words,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. When Harry smiled at the comment, Draco sighed with relief. “Where to next?” he asked, and Harry relaxed his shoulders, looking relieved Draco didn’t push. 

“I have a Muggle deck of cards in my room, do you know any games?” Harry asked, already guiding the way. 

“Ted taught me a few games,” Draco shrugged, grinning. “I bet I can beat you at go-fish,” he challenged, glancing at Harry who chuckled. 

“Oh, you’re on.”

-----

The two were sat opposite each other in the attic, which Harry assured Draco was now safe as they had cleared it of all Dark artifacts only a few days prior. 

It was rather dreary, with the only light being from a few scattered candles – which, Draco assumed, were always lit to appease Buckbeak. There was a small layer of dust covering the floor and floating through the air. The room was filled with old portrait frames and odd objects, but the strangest part of the attic was the Hippogriff, who was unfazed by their presence, no matter how loud they got. 

“Do you have the Queen of Hearts?” Draco asked. 

Biting back his laughter, Harry handed him the card. They were down to four cards, one set to collect, and they had been caught in a loop for the past five minutes. “Draco…” Harry managed to say, before his laughter escaped. “I’ll always end up with three cards, you with one, just give me the card so we can end this,” he pleaded, though it took him a while to say. 

He couldn’t stop giggling. 

Draco feigned offence. “Give up?” he asked. “Give up? Absolutely not Potter, you’ll make a mistake at some point,” he insisted, staring intently at his two cards. 

Harry snorted. “Can I have the Queen of Hearts back?” he asked, not even looking up from his cards. 

“No,” Draco said, smirking at Harry who looked so close to throwing his cards at Draco. “If I let you win this set, then we draw,” he explained, as if there was nothing worse that could happen at this moment in time. 

“Again,” Harry began. “Why would that matter?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Draco scoffed. “I thought Gryffindor’s were supposed to be competitive?” 

“I thought Hufflepuff’s were supposed to be friendly?” Harry retorted, making Draco burst into laughter. 

“You haven’t seen the common room when there’s only one slice of bakewell tart left,” Draco muttered, deciding to hand over the card. “Can I have the Queen of Spades?” 

Rolling his eyes Harry passed Draco the card. “Queen of Clubs,” Harry said, his eyes widening at his mistake. “Wait, no –“

“Ha!” Draco exclaimed. “I knew you’d slip up at some point.”

“Fuck,” Harry muttered, smiling to himself. 

“I’d like the Queen of Hearts, if you would be so kind,” Draco grinned, now the proud owner of three cards. 

Harry smirked. “But now, you have to wait until I slip up again,” he pointed out. 

Draco paused. “I – yes, that was a bit of an oversight by me,” he said, only widening Harry’s grin. “Well, why don’t we just say I won?” he said, waving his hand dismissively, and going to stand.

“Oh no you don’t,” Harry replied, grasping Draco’s wrist and keeping him on the floor. “We play this till the end.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “There’s that Gryffindor spirit,” he joked, and Harry rolled his eyes. 

“I will fight you,” he said, his eyes lit with the same fire Draco had seen in their first year. “Now play, give me the Queen of Diamonds,” he commanded.

“As you wish,” Draco said softly. “But I’d like it back, so I’ll just keep it.”

“Queen of Hearts,” Harry said, and Draco shook his head again. 

“I’d like to keep that card.”

Harry groaned. “Queen of Spades then,” he said, staring at Draco, who smiled lazily. 

“And I take it back,” Draco shrugged. 

With an exasperated glance at Draco, Harry conceded, handing Draco the card. “Enjoy your hollow victory,” he sneered, but when Draco did a mini victory dance, a smile tugged at his lips.  

“I will,” Draco grinned, gathering up the cards. “Do you want to play again?”

“With your pettiness?” Harry chuckled, shaking his head. There was a softness to what he was saying that made Draco’s heart swell like the sound of a string section of an orchestra. “Did Ted show you how to play rummy?” he asked. 

Before Draco could answer, there was a tapping at the hatch to the attic. “Is that you Harry?” a voice called. 

“Yeah,” Harry called back, shuffling the deck. 

The hatch opened and Sirius climbed into the attic, brushing his hands on his trousers. “What are you boys doing, hiding up here?” he asked, smiling as Harry began to deal cards for Draco and himself. 

“It’s a tactical retreat,” Draco replied, picking up his small pile of cards. “And he didn’t, no,” he said, replying to Harry’s previous question. 

“A tactical retreat?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry appeared to be biting back a laugh. 

“Yes,” Draco nodded. “Hiding makes it seem childish, this,” he said, gesturing to the cards. “Is a tactical retreat,” he grinned, as Harry burst into laughter, only making Sirius look at them both, bewildered. 

In reality, they were hiding, sort of. Draco knew Harry didn’t wish to speak to Ron and Hermione, and he wondered how much that extended to the entire Weasley family. 

“Draco and I are playing Rummy,” Harry said, once he’d stopped laughing. “I’m sure you could join, if you wanted to,” Harry offered, glancing at Draco to see if he was okay with that. 

Draco shrugged, giving a small nod. “I have no idea how to play, so you won’t do worse than me,” he joked, and Harry shot him a fond, exasperated look.

“I’ll teach you,” Harry smiled, before looking back at Sirius. “So?” 

Sirius laughed, shaking his head. “I can’t say no, can I?” he asked, sitting on the floor, as the other two shuffled about to make space. 

Harry grinned. “Not really, no,” he said, dealing out seven cards to Sirius. “Besides, you said you’re a playing card master.”

“When I was your age, maybe,” Sirius muttered. “And not if Remus was playing, no one can beat our Moony.”

“He taught Sirius and my Dad,” Harry explained to Draco, who nodded. “I still find it weird we don’t have Muggle card games,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows together before he shrugged. 

“I knew they existed,” Draco chimed in. “But I didn’t know how to play.”

Harry perked up. “Rummy is relatively easy,” he said, glancing at Sirius who nodded. 

“To win, you have to get a run and a set,” Sirius began to explain. “A run is three or four consecutive cards of the same suit, and a set is three or four cards of the same value, but different suits.” Sirius flipped over the card on the top of the deck, placing it between the three of them. “When it’s your turn, if you find the card in the middle useful, you can switch it for a card in your hand, if not, you can pick up from the deck, and either switch for one in your hand, or discard it to the middle.”

Draco blinked. “Right,” he said, though he was a little unsure of the rules. 

“Don’t worry,” Harry said, nudging Draco’s knee with his own. “I’ll make sure you don’t get too lost,” he grinned, and Draco smiled back.

There it was again, the fluttery feeling in his chest. Draco wondered if he was coming down with something. 

The three began to play, and Harry was right, it didn’t take Draco long to pick up on how to play, but that didn’t mean he was good at it. After seven losses, Draco wondered if was ever going to win a game of Rummy.

Then, he lost another game and knew it was a fantasy to think about winning. 

Sirius and Harry, however, were neck and neck, and Draco couldn’t help but find their competitiveness amusing. It was like watching a stubborn father and son, battle for the right to say they won – Draco assumed it was the Gryffindor spirit Harry refused to admit he had earlier. 

Draco was just happy to see Harry smiling. 

-----

It happened when the night was at its darkest, the moon at its highest, and the house at its quietest. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the creak of the door that woke Draco, but the sound of feet, walking down the hall. 

When the door opened, the light from the hall made Draco squint. “Harry?” Draco asked groggily, blinking repeatedly. “Is that you?” he asked the figure. 

The figure nodded but stayed in the doorway. “I’m sorry – I didn’t – it’s just – I mean,” Harry mumbled, rubbing his arm. “I’ll just go,” he said, turning to leave. 

Draco sat up. “Harry,” he called out. Harry froze, facing away from Draco, who’s vision had now adjusted to the light. “Nightmares?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, his breath hitching as he brought his hands to his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Unsure of what to say, Draco moved over in the bed and patted next to him. Harry hesitated, but, after Draco gestured for Harry to come over, he closed the door. 

Draco blinked at the darkness, just about seeing a figure, edging its way towards his bed. The bed sank as Harry sat next to Draco, who offered his hand. 

Harry took it, squeezing tight. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Draco asked, able to see Harry from the small amount of moonlight which poured in through the window. 

With a shrug, Harry brought his knees to his chest. “No point,” he mumbled, resting his head on his knees. 

“Of course, there is,” Draco assured, squishing Harry’s hand to let him know he was there. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but if you’re simply worried about being a burden…” Draco trailed off. This conversation felt familiar. “Everyone is a burden at times, but that never changes the fact that there are people who care for you,” he said, echoing the words of Cedric.

Harry snorted. “Really? Who?” he challenged, letting go of Draco’s hand. 

“Me,” Draco replied, his voice soft, but certain. He wasn’t sure if Harry could see that Draco was watching him with a concerned eye, but he hoped Harry knew that Draco meant every word he said.

The room filled with an odd silence. “Oh,” Harry said, surprised. 

“And Sirius, probably Lupin too,” Draco continued. “So, if you need us, we’re here.”

The room filled with silence again, and Harry sighed. “It’s – thank you,” he said. “But I don’t think I can,” he admitted, leaning his head on Draco’s shoulder. Draco was confused as to what he meant but didn’t want to push.

“Do you want me to distract you? Tell you a story?” Draco asked, brushing his fingers through Harry’s hair.

Harry let out a surprised laugh. “Sure,” he replied, relaxing further onto Draco.

Wrapping an arm around Harry, Draco took a deep breath. “It might not be the best, Mother usually told stories to me in French,” he said softly, shaking his head. “The sun is always the brightest light in the sky,” Draco began, unconsciously brushing his fingers through Harry’s hair. “But he despises it. He wishes for nothing more, than to be the moon.

“The moon has privacy. They didn’t get words of hatred thrown at them when they weren’t seen, and the same words when they were at their brightest. They weren’t expected to live for the sake of others; they got to live for themselves. 

“And when the silver light of the moon gets to mix with the golden rays of the sun, the two will talk. The sun will ask about the joys of living in secret, and the moon will ask about the joys of seeing the people at their best, seeing them smile and bask in his presence –“

Glancing at Harry, Draco noticed his eyes were closed and his breathing even. He knew he should probably wake Harry, but he couldn’t find it within himself to do so. 

He looked so peaceful. 

Deciding he would wake Harry in a moment, Draco closed his eyes – just for a second. 

Except, his eyes were closed for longer than a second. 

Startling awake, Draco noticed there was now a blanket draped over him, and a pillow under his head. Before he could question where the blanket had come from, and where Harry was, he heard a voice from the window seat. “Morning,” Harry said, offering Draco a smile. 

It was then, that Draco noticed the sunrise, turning the sky a soft green and yellow. “Morning,” Draco yawned, rubbing at his eyes. 

He couldn’t remember falling asleep, and he hoped Harry hadn’t been expecting Draco to wake him. 

“It looks so calm outside,” Harry sighed, leaning his head against the window. 

Climbing out of bed with the blanket, Draco sat opposite Harry, their feet just touching. He wrapped the blanket tightly around himself. 

The tree branches were swaying slowly as the early sunlight of dawn illuminated the leaves, scattering the light across the street. There was the faintest sound of bird song, and a dog barking. It was all strangely comforting. 

“It does,” Draco said, leaning his head against the window as he looked at Harry. “How long have you been awake?”

Harry shrugged. “Not sure,” he said, staring at the trees. “Not long,” he added, when Draco’s eyebrows began to furrow. “I didn’t have another nightmare though,” Harry said, smiling at Draco who felt his face heat. 

“That’s great!” Draco grinned. 

The two sat in silence for a moment, as Harry continued to stare out the window, and Draco noticed he was fidgeting with the bottom of his t-shirt. “I see Cedric die, every night,” Harry said, closing his eyes as Draco’s blood ran cold. “Again, and again, and again,” he whispered, knocking his head against the window. 

“I – shit Harry,” Draco said, unsure of what else he could say. 

“Yeah,” Harry replied, with a humourless chuckle. “Sometimes I see Voldemort attacking people,” he shrugged. “Because I couldn’t stop hi-“

Draco pulled Harry into a hug. “There was nothing you could do,” he said.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, burying his face in Draco’s neck. 

“I –“ Draco began, his throat constricting. “I really miss him,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as his grip on Harry tightened. “There’s so much that I – that he never –“ he broke off, unable to finish. 

Harry pulled away, using his thumb to wipe away the tears Draco had tried to hide. “I know,” he said, his expression sombre. 

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. “Merlin, aren’t we depressing,” he joked. “I’ve been awake five minutes and I’m crying,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. 

“I think we’ve got a right to be,” Harry shrugged, linking his pinkie with Draco’s. 

“Do you think it gets easier?” Draco asked, staring at their hands. “The feeling of missing someone?” 

Harry froze, and Draco couldn’t blame him. It was a difficult question, and Harry had to decide whether to be blunt or give him hope. He wanted it to get easier; he needed it too. The longing in his chest for the family he had found and his mother, the family he knew he had, was unbearable at times. 

“It must do,” Harry said, shuffling on his seat. “I don’t think it goes away, but I think it does get easier.”