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Chapter Text

ONE

"You're putting me where?" Draco stared at the werewolf with a look of horror on his face.

"I already told you, Mr Malfoy, we are short of sleeping space! And since it's not safe for you to leave Grimmauld Place with your father trying to kill you, you have no choice but to stay here. But if sleeping in the same room as Harry really disgusts you that much, you can always go and curl up in the hallway." Lupin glared at Draco, his lip curling slightly, and Draco stepped back.

"Why can't Potter stay with the Weasel? Then I could have his room to myself," Draco argued.

Lupin rolled his eyes. "He was! But since your arrival, we've had to put Ron in with Fred and George. Now get your bag, and go and put it in your room! If you still have a problem with this, you can take it up with Molly Weasley when she arrives in ten minutes."

Draco took another step back, feeling his face turn slightly white. He'd heard about Molly Weasley. Nodding reluctantly, he picked up his bag and dragged it up the stairs.

Sharing a room with Potter! Of all the nerve... Draco hoped that Potter didn't snore or fart in his sleep or anything like that. That would be simply unbearable. Upon his arrival on the third floor, Draco eventually found the door to his room and shoved it open.

Well. It wasn't the Manor, by any stretch of the imagination, but it would do. There were two fairly comfortable-looking beds, one on each side of the room, with a rather large wardrobe and a dresser in the middle. Draco slung his bag down next to the bed not strewn with clothing, and flopped down onto his back, sighing deeply.

Stranded in Grimmauld Place, for the foreseeable future. Sharing a room with Potter, of all people! He groaned and rubbed his face. This was a complete disaster, and not for the first time, Draco wondered whether he wouldn't be better off on his own.

Before he could further ponder the possibility of attempting to run away, the door slammed open.

"Mmmm, yeah... missed you, Gin..."

"Missed you too, Harry... oh that's nice... mmm..."

As Draco sat up in horror, Potter entered the room backwards, with none other than a half-dressed Ginny Weasley attached to his lips. She kicked the door shut and pushed Potter towards the bed, fumbling with his shirt buttons as he slid a hand up her skirt, apparently tugging at her underwear.

Draco cleared his throat.

The Weaselette shrieked and hid behind Potter. Potter turned around, and Draco had the distinct pleasure of seeing his face turn white before it turned red with anger.

"Malfoy! What the fuck are you doing here?"

Draco smirked. "It seems I'm stuck here, Potter. And we're sharing a room!" He threw himself back down on his bed, grinning hugely, and Potter's face fell.

"Fuck. No fucking way. Who said you were rooming with me?"

"The werewolf. Seemed quite adamant."

"Bastard," Potter muttered. Ginny whacked him on the arm, and he glared at her briefly before turning his gaze back to Draco. "I'll go have a word with him."

"Won't do any good, Potter," Draco said airily. "I already tried."

Potter ignored him, and stormed out of the room, leaving him alone with a rather flustered-looking Weaselette.

"This is really inconvenient," she muttered, pulling her shirt closed and sitting on Potter's bed.

"You're telling me," Draco said.

"Where the hell are we going to shag now?"

Draco inhaled sharply, and choked.

"You're sure as hell not shagging here!" he cried. "Aren't you sharing with Granger? Go kick her out and shag in your room!"

Ginny shrugged. "Can't. Ron stays in her room so they can shag, and don't even mention the twins." She shuddered, and Draco's face twisted up when he caught her meaning.

"Good grief. I assume the inestimable Mrs Weasley knows nothing of this?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Course not. We're not stupid. And now you've gone and upset the balance, Malfoy. We were all quite happy sneaking into each other's rooms until you got here."

Draco frowned. "What about Lupin? Does he have a spare bed? Maybe I can stay in his room." Sleeping in the same room as a werewolf would be infinitely better than having Potter and his girlfriend going at it, all night, only two metres away.

Ginny laughed. "Lupin? Unlikely, seeing as he's hiding Snape in his wardrobe and pretending they're just good friends."

"Oh, gross. Is there anyone in this house who isn't illicitly shagging someone else?"

"You."

Well. That said it all. Draco was about to make a scathing reply about it not being his fault his sodding girlfriend had bloody well gone and joined the Dark Lord, when Potter returned.

"Any luck?" Ginny asked.

"None," Potter said morosely. "He told me I'd just have to jerk off quietly like everyone else." His face twisted up. "Lupin! He said the words 'jerk off!' I think I need to clean my brain."

"Looks like we're roomies, Potter!" Draco said brightly. Privately, he wondered if he would be able to get out past the wards and find himself a nice hotel to stay in for the duration of the war.

"Fuck off, Malfoy. And I mean, right now," Potter growled.

"What, so you can shag your little girlfriend? Sorry Potter, but I'm a bit tired. I think I'll have a nap." With that, Draco rolled over and closed his eyes. He heard brief sounds of argument from Potter and the Weaselette, and then the door slammed shut and he was alone.

TWO

The moment the door closed, Draco opened his eyes, rolled off the bed and rummaged through his bag in search of a towel. He'd arrived at Grimmauld Place with Lucius' blood still on him, and he felt incredibly filthy. He grinned inwardly at having forced Potter and his girlfriend to find somewhere else to shag, and decided that he would make it his purpose in life to inconvenience the git in as many ways as possible. It sure beat running away and being caught by an irascible father.

Draco quietly opened the door and peeked outside. The corridor was empty, thank goodness, and he slipped out and closed the door behind him. He hadn't gone two steps, however, before he bumped into someone.

"Ow! Look out!"

"Look out yourself!"

"Oh... it's you. That explains the shouting."

It was Granger. It looked as though she had recently come from the bathroom - her normally bushy hair was lying in damp tangles around her shoulders. Draco grimaced. Fortunately, he was saved from having to make conversation by someone calling Granger's name from down the hall. She looked him up and down, curled her lip slightly, and left without a word.

"Granger!"

The girl paused, and turned to look at Draco with an eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"Uh... where's the bathroom?"

"Second door on the left. Better knock first; you never know who's in there."

Draco hoped that Potter and the Weasley girl hadn't decided to shag in the bathroom instead. He really needed a shower. Fortunately, he was in luck, and there also appeared to be plenty of hot water. At least, there was still hot water after a half-hour shower, and that was really all that mattered.

After all the blood was washed down the drain (along with the results of a quick tug - circumstances would have to be dire indeed for Draco to not wank in the shower) he felt much better. He even thought he might be pleasantly disposed to any Potters who might deign to speak to him. This train of thought was abruptly interrupted when the bathroom door opened.

"Oh, it's just you... sorry, I really have to piss."

"Potter! Get the fuck out! I locked the door for a reason, you cunt!"

"Harsh, Malfoy. Besides, you call that a locking charm? Didn't even notice it." With nary a glance in Draco's direction, Potter walked purposefully over to the toilet and looked like he was about to get his cock out when Draco shouted, "Stop!"

"What?"

"Bloody hell, Potter, can't you wait till I'm gone?"

"No. Twins gave me something. Think it's a new joke." With that, Potter unzipped his fly and flopped out his prick. Draco whirled around on the spot, thankful he'd managed to at least get his trousers on before the door had opened. Trying to close his ears to the sounds coming from behind him (why did Potter have to moan?) he pulled his shirt on, opened the door and left, ignoring Potter's indignant squawk at having the door opened while he was 'occupied.' Draco didn't care. It served the arsehole right.

Dinner was a tense affair. Potter insisted upon sitting opposite Draco, probably so he could glare at Draco across the table for the entire duration of the meal. Draco ignored him, instead focusing on his rather excellent steak and kidney pie. Really, he'd have to rethink his opinions of the Weasley matron if she could produce meals like this. Then again, he got meals just as good at the Manor, and they were made by house elves. He shrugged and served himself more mashed potatoes.

Glancing around the table, Draco didn't quite understand how Molly Weasley was unable to see the currents in the room. It was quite clear that Potter and Ginny were shagging - she appeared to be fellating an asparagus spear for his benefit, but unfortunately for her, Potter's attention was all on Draco, probably expecting him to hex the peas or something. Granger and the Weasel were sitting so close together Draco thought there might be Sticking charms involved, and the twins... Draco took one look and had to look away. Really, the rumours of his great-uncle Winston and his sister aside, there were some things which just shouldn't be kept in the family. Lupin was sporting what might have been a rather large love-bite on his neck, and occasionally stopped eating to gaze wistfully into space. Draco didn't know any of the others at the table, but he would wager that they were all getting plenty of sex.

Then Draco looked at Mrs Weasley, and realised that despite the best efforts of her children (which weren't very good, really), she did indeed know what was going on upstairs. Either she didn't care or she had given up worrying, Draco didn't know, but the fact that her children didn't know she knew gave Draco a hefty amount of domestic blackmail material.

Feeling suddenly morose, Draco swallowed the last of his pie and leaned back in his chair. Despite the large number of people here, he was completely and totally alone, and it stung. Then he considered where he could be - at Malfoy Manor, with his father and the Dark Lord, and Pansy Parkinson in his bed. He shuddered. Not even sex every night was worth that. Nor was it worth having to live with his father and the Dark Lord.

Fortunately, dessert was served not long after dinner ended, and Draco managed to bury his problems in a rather large helping of spotted dick.

THREE

"So... what are you really doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco sighed. He'd spent the evening reading quietly, and then had gone upstairs and to bed without having to exchange a single word with Potter. The wonder boy had come to bed sometime after Draco, and had shared a fairly heated (and noisy) snog with the Weasley girl before eventually closing the door and getting into bed. Draco had hoped Potter would just go to sleep, but it seemed not.

"You mean they haven't told you?"

"No, they never do. So. Why are you here? Why aren't you with your father and Voldemort?"

Draco snapped. "Because, you idiot, my father attempted to kill me when I wouldn't get the Dark Mark!"

Silence. After several minutes, Draco rolled over and closed his eyes, trying to banish the memories Potter's questions had roused - the look of disappointment, and then anger, on his father's face. The vicious things his father had said, spiteful invectives which cut Draco to the core. He had been lucky to get out alive, his mother told him the next day when she met with him in a tiny village in Devon to give him some of his things. Then Lucius turned up - probably a tracking spell on Narcissa, that man had real trust issues - and attacked Draco. It was terribly fortunate that Snape, who had been apparently watching Draco very closely since he left the Manor, was able to heal his wounds after Lucius had fled, then had given him the address to Grimmauld Place.

"Sorry."

"S'ok."

"G'night."

Draco didn't reply. Potter started snoring fairly soon afterwards, and Draco pulled his pillow over his head and tried to sleep.

He woke in the early hours of the morning with a rather insistent erection. Before he knew it, he had shoved his pyjama pants down and had his fist wrapped around his cock. A Silencing Charm never even occurred to him (he later blamed the early hour for his forgetfulness) as he jerked and tugged at his hard flesh, biting his lip and trying not to make the bed squeak. He was full of the knowledge that Potter was not two metres away, and this was nothing like the dorms at Hogwarts with their privacy-ensuring curtains. If Potter were to wake and look at Draco, he'd... Draco gasped and came all over his hand.

As he quietly cleaned himself up with his wand, Draco heard a sleepy mutter from the other side of the room.

"At least use a Silencing Charm, Malfoy... Christ."

Draco blushed a bright red and buried himself under his covers, hoping that by morning Potter might have passed the incident off as a dream.

FOUR

Life eventually fell into a rhythm at Grimmauld Place. Draco spent most of his time perusing the books in the library - there was an excellent selection of Potions manuals, many of them dreadfully unsuitable for Hogwarts students. He also spent a lot of time making sure Potter was unable to get any sex. The git had, fortunately, never mentioned the Incident Without The Silencing Charm (as Draco called it), which was something of a relief. He was becoming quite proficient at interrupting Potter and Ginny just as their snogging was becoming more heated, due to Draco's newfound interest in Potter-stalking. He quickly learned all the favourite shagging spots of Grimmauld Place, and due to the sheer number of people staying there who wanted to have sex, barely a day went by in which Draco did not unwittingly (or otherwise) stumble into something he probably should not have. The absolute worst was Granger and Weasley - he would never get rid of the sight of Weasley's pale, freckled arse as he pushed into a half-naked Granger, up against the wall in the very back of the library.

Really, he felt sorry for Molly Weasley sometimes. He often thanked his lucky stars that Fred and George were a lot more discreet than most of the inhabitants of the house.

Draco had walked in on Ginny giving Potter a blowjob once, having been a little caught up in a book and not noticing Potter leaving the sitting room in time to follow him with alacrity. He'd backed away, mouthing apologies, and Potter had just grinned at him and winked. Winked! Bastard, Draco had thought to himself as he stroked his cock behind the privacy of a Silencing Charm that night. He was so bloody hard up, just the idea of getting a blowjob made him incredibly horny. Not for the first time, Draco buried his face in his pillow and groaned.

FIVE

"Malfoy!"

"Yes, Potter?"

Draco put his book down and sighed. He had really been enjoying this one; it was describing in great detail (and relish) what exactly happened when one imbibed too much Polyjuice Potion in one go.

Potter sat down on the sofa next to Draco with an earnest look in his eyes.

"Look, Malfoy, I know you're hard up and all, but can't you give me a break?"

Draco looked back at Potter with innocence shining out of every pore in his body. "I can't think what you mean, Potter."

Potter ran his fingers through his hair, looking quite agitated. "You're bloody following me everywhere! Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," Draco sniffed. He turned his attention back to his book and hoped Potter would leave. His very presence was making Draco feel uncomfortable. Like he had indigestion or something. Or like he had been running for a while. Plus, Potter's cologne was terribly distracting.

"I'm sorry you're the only one in this entire house who's not getting any sex, but really, is that any reason to stop ME having any?"

"Yes."

"Ha! So you admit it, then?"

"Of course not. It's not my fault you happen to always be where I want to be, and it's not my fault you can't think about anything else except shagging the Weaselette. Honestly, it's no surprise we're still at war. Our sodding Boy-Who-Lived can't think past his cock."

Potter looked slightly abashed. "Fuck off, Malfoy."

"Can't. Sorry. I've tried, I have. Can't get past the door, I think Lupin's put anti-Draco wards on them." He rolled his eyes, remembering the way the door had violently pushed him back and almost down the stairs to the basement, at the same time setting off an alarm which sounded like a fucking foghorn right in the hallway.

"Nah, they're anti-everyone wards. You can't get out of the house without a pass from Remus."

"Well, fuck." Draco leaned his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.

"Is it really that awful here?" Potter asked quietly. "I mean, you get a comfy bed, regular meals, hot showers... I guess you don't much like the company, but that's your problem."

"Yeah..." Draco muttered. "It's my problem. It's all my problem that every single fucking friend I ever made decided to be a fucking idiot and was too stupid to see what was as plain as day."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean, Potter? The fucking Dark Lord! He waved all these stupid ideas of power under their noses and they just went running to him like they were his lapdogs and he'd held out a piece of meat!"

"Why didn't you?"

"Because..." Draco fell silent. "Because... I..."

Fuck, he could feel tears pricking at his eyes.

"It's okay; you don't have to tell me." Potter didn't sound condescending, he didn't sound pitying. He patted Draco's shoulder and left the room, leaving Draco feeling suddenly alone.

Because I saw what he did to Goyle, who was only doing as he was told. Draco wiped his eyes and tried to go back to his book, ignoring the lingering scent of Potter's cologne surrounding him.

SIX

Draco wasn't sleeping very well. For one, Potter had turned out to be a snorer, and his Silencing Charms tended to wear off when he fell asleep. For another, Draco found himself growing increasingly uncomfortable with Potter sleeping so close to him. He didn't know why this was - he had spent six years sleeping in a dorm room with four other boys, whose beds were much closer than Potter's. Crabbe had snored like a passing thunderstorm, Goyle had had the strangest habit of making eating noises in his sleep, and Nott had been officially crowned the Worst Student At Silencing Charms, Ever. Draco had learned to sleep through it, but now, as he lay awake listening to Potter rasp and grunt, he wondered how he had ever done it.

Eventually, he gave up trying to sleep, and dragged himself out of bed. Pulling on his dressing gown and picking up his book, he quietly left the room and went downstairs, wondering if there was any leftover trifle in the kitchen.

Not only was there leftover trifle, there was also a Molly Weasley. She had her head buried in her arms on the table, and Draco wondered if she was asleep. As he crept past her, however, she lifted her head and blinked sleepily at him.

"Oh, it's you, dear," she murmured in that quiet voice people used at night, no matter how far they were from those sleeping. Draco had become used to Mrs Weasley calling him 'dear' - something his own mother had hardly ever done. "Couldn't you sleep either?"

"Potter snores," Draco said shortly. He went over to the cupboard and took out a bowl before sitting down at the table and spooning himself out some trifle.

Mrs Weasley chuckled. "You should hear Arthur. I had to develop special self-renewing Silencing charms to put over my ears every night; otherwise I would have gone quite mad by now."

"Hmm," Draco mumbled around a mouthful of custard and berries.

"How are you coping, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, a concerned look on her face. "You don't seem too happy here."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not exactly my first choice of location right at the moment. And you probably know full well that it's not my first choice of company either."

"I know, love. But beggars cannot be choosers, as you well know."

"Beggars?" Draco dropped his spoon, ignoring the loud clang it made as it hit the floor. "I'm anything but! How dare you!" He made to get up from the table, his nostrils flaring white with anger, but Mrs Weasley put a hand on his arm and forced him back into his seat.

"Gracious, dear, it's just a saying! Sit down and finish your trifle, and for goodness sake, try not to be so touchy about everything. Would you like a cup of tea?"

The sudden change of subject surprised Draco, and he nodded dumbly. Retrieving his spoon from the floor and casting a quick Scourgify at it, he continued to eat as Mrs Weasley set the jug to boiling and filled a pot with tealeaves.

"You know, you might get on a little better with the people here if you realised that none of them were your enemy," she said with her back to him. Draco looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really? Not my enemy, you say?"

"Of course not. You wouldn't have been able to cross the threshold of this house if you were an enemy of any person currently within its walls." She filled the teapot with boiling water, and brought it to the table to steep while she set out mugs, spoons, milk and sugar.

"No one likes me," Draco said in a small voice. He hated this time of night, when everything seemed worse.

"Why do you think that is, hmmm?" Mrs Weasley pressed a hot cup of tea into Draco's hands. He absently added milk and sugar, and took a sip.

"Why do you think?" he growled. "You know who I am."

"Harry doesn't dislike you, Draco."

"What the hell are you on about? Potter hates me."

"Language, dear. Oh no, I had him down here just last night. About the same time, in fact. He said you were snoring."

"I don't snore!"

"Of course not, dear. Anyway, the poor dear seemed quite upset about something. I didn't quite catch it all, what with all the muttering, but I got the general idea. He wishes you were a bit more approachable, because he thinks you'd be alright if he could get past the nasty exterior."

Draco sniffed regally. Nasty exterior? He absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake out what was no doubt a dreadful mess of bed head. Mrs Weasley laughed.

"I didn't mean your looks, Draco. You look just fine. I think Harry meant the fact that you're not the most friendly of people."

Oh. Draco sighed and put his tea down.

"I might go back to bed now."

"Alright dear. Try to get some sleep."

Draco nodded, and left the kitchen. By the time his head hit his pillow, he was asleep.

SEVEN

"What're you reading?"

Draco looked up in surprise - it was Granger. Odd, that. She and the Weasel had hardly deigned to even look in Draco's direction during the week or so he had been living there. It certainly didn't help that whenever Draco looked at Granger, he saw her half-naked and shoved up against a wall. He shook his head to dispel the image.

"It's an account of the rise of Grindelwald." No need to be rude to the Mudblood, she would most likely accomplish that herself without any of Draco's help. Also, Draco was dying to speak to someone who didn't try to dispense motherly advice or snarl in a feral manner at him.

"Looking for ideas?" Granger said with a twist of her lips. On second inspection, however, it seemed she was actually smiling. Draco grinned back at her.

"He wasn't too intelligent, this Grindelwald guy. Look," Draco leafed through the book, "he never bothered to establish a power base before rushing out to become the next great Dark Lord. It's like the entire thing was completely unplanned, just a spur-of-the-moment action on his part. It was a series of unfortunate events which brought him to power, and if none of those events had taken place, his name would be a mere appendix note in the history books."

Granger sat down next to him. "I've never read that account - most books I've seen tend to paint him as a terribly powerful and dangerous wizard, and it was pure luck that Dumbledore managed to actually kill him in the end."

Draco snorted. "Grindelwald was one wizard. Just an ordinary wizard who had some jumped-up ideas of his own power and abilities. Advertising, Granger. That's what was most important to Grindelwald. He used propaganda and fear-tactics to cover up his own inadequacies."

"Sort of like someone running around these days, hmm?"

"Don't be stupid. The Dark Lord is no Grindelwald. He has a power base, and he's been quietly planning his day of glory since probably before he even went to Hogwarts. He's also quite a bit more intelligent than Grindelwald was, and it pains me to say it, but most of the propaganda about him is unfortunately quite true." Draco shivered suddenly, as if a cold wind had swept through the room.

"Are you okay?"

Draco whipped his head around to glare at Granger. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You suddenly went rather pale."

"Nothing. Just... well, let's just say I've seen firsthand what the Dark Lord does to people he is disappointed in. And I'd wager my entire Gringotts vault that he's very disappointed in me."

"Would you go back to him, if you could? I mean, if you knew he wouldn't try to ... punish ... you for what you did?"

"Not in a second. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a hot shower at Voldemort's house?" Draco shuddered theatrically. "All joking aside, Granger... no, I'd never go back to him. This is the creature my father tried to kill me for. Not exactly the sort of person I look up to."

Granger smiled at him - smiled! - and patted his shoulder. Draco jerked away reflexively, and she laughed. "Relax, Draco. God. You're so jumpy."

The door to the room burst open, and Draco almost jumped out of his skin. Fortunately, it was not Lucius come to give killing him another go - it was the Weasel, whose freckled nose wrinkled up when he saw who his girlfriend was talking to. Draco decided, for once in his life, to be the civil one.

"Weasley," he said with a nod. Weasley glared at him and didn't reply, then looked at Granger and smiled.

"Been looking for you, Hermione. What the hell are you talking to this git for?" He glared suspiciously at Draco again. "He hasn't tried to hurt you, has he? Wanker."

"Ron! For god's sake, we've talked about this." With that, Granger stood up and dragged Weasley out of the room, sending an apologetic glance at Draco before shutting the door.

"That was interesting," a voice said from the back of the room. Draco stood up so quickly he tripped and fell over the rug, landing sprawled facedown on the floor.

"Graceful, Draco. Very graceful." A grinning face came into Draco's view, framed by messy black hair and wearing wire-rimmed glasses. Potter. Perfect. Draco pushed himself up, and was surprised to see Potter extend a hand to help him back to his feet. Before he could stop himself, Draco found himself taking it.

"Didn't know you were here, Potter," Draco mumbled, wiping his hands on his trousers and sitting back on the couch. Just as he swung his feet up to the other end of the couch, hoping to prevent Potter from sitting next to him, the git sat down, ending up with Draco's feet in his lap.

"Uh..."

"Sorry," Potter said, not moving. Draco scowled at him and moved his feet, bending his knees and putting them flat on the cushions, poking into Potter's thighs in a hopefully annoying manner.

"What was so interesting?" Draco asked. "And how long have you been here? I didn't even know you were there."

"I, uh, felt like a bit of alone time. It's hard to find here. So I've been reading in that chair over there, with my cloak over me. Didn't bother moving when you came in, figured you wouldn't be very noisy."

"Cloak?"

Potter nodded vigorously. "Invisibility Cloak."

"Hmph," Draco snorted. "Figures you'd have one. But what the hell was so interesting, as you said?"

"Just you, carrying on a civil conversation with Hermione. She's been a bit nervous about talking to you, you know."

Draco preened slightly.

"Nothing to be proud of, you dick." Potter pinched his knee, making Draco flinch.

"It's not so odd. It's not like I have anyone else to talk to here, seeing as there's hardly a person here who doesn't hate me, mother me, or just plain fear me. Anyway, why were you looking for alone time? I thought you spent every spare minute here trying to shag your girlfriend."

Potter blushed and looked down at his lap, picking distractedly at threads on his jumper. "Um, none of your business."

Oh, no. Draco couldn't leave that alone. "Come on, Potter. You can tell me. It's not like I'll go running to any of her family to tell tales. Besides, if not me, who are you going to talk to about it? I imagine Granger would try to give you terribly useless advice, and Lupin would just tell you to pull your head in. I don't see you going to Snape for advice, either." Draco smirked.

Potter was silent for a minute, absently smoothing his thumb over the toe of Draco's shoe.

"She's been writing to Dean."

"Who?"

"Dean Thomas... remember? Same year as us, played Quidditch sixth year, dated Ginny for one year..."

Draco snorted abruptly. "So she's writing to her ex? Should that bother you?"

"Don't be dense. Besides, she's been a fucking icicle lately. Such a pain. I'm having to jerk off every night like you."

Draco blushed. His Silencing Charms were pretty good, but did nothing to impede sight. "Like to lie awake at night watching me wank, eh Potter? Didn't take you for a poof."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter said lazily, pinching his knee again. Draco squeaked. "Anyway, gotta go, there's an Order meeting in half an hour."

Draco rolled his eyes. The bloody Order. They'd met only once since he had arrived at the house, and he had been distinctly not invited. Not that he really cared. Potter got up off the couch and left with a wave; Draco pretended to ignore him and went back to his book.

EIGHT

"Draco?"

"Hmmm?"

"You, um, the Order wants to see you..."

Draco sighed heavily, put his book down, and followed Potter downstairs to the basement kitchen. He wondered what on earth they wanted. Probably want to probe my mind, he concluded.

When he entered the kitchen, Potter gave him a pat on the shoulder and followed him in, sitting down next to him at the table. Draco glanced around, seeing familiar faces from the previous week or so watching him closely. There was a new face, though - Mad-Eye Moody was there, his dreadful glass eye spinning nauseatingly. Draco shivered and looked away, hoping he wouldn't get turned into a ferret if his information wasn't good enough. Professor Snape, who had deigned to make an appearance downstairs, cleared his throat.

"Mr Malfoy, we have some news concerning your father."

Draco frowned. "Have you finally managed to arrest him again? He's a slippery bugger, as you would well know."

Moody grunted. "We tried, boy. Cost us three good Aurors and half a squadron of Hit Wizards."

At this point, Snape interrupted with a meaningful look at Moody.

"We were unable to arrest him, Draco. He proved to be too much of a danger to be taken into custody, and he was killed. I'm terribly sorry."

Draco's frown deepened. "Why the fuck do you think I would care?" Molly Weasley gasped and whispered something about language, but Draco carried on. "Don't you remember? That cunt tried to kill me, and almost bloody succeeded! You were there, Professor! You saw what he did to me..." Draco trailed off. If it hadn't been for his mother... "What about my mother?"

"She's safe, dear," Mrs Weasley piped up. "She was invited here for her own safety, but she refused. Apparently she has relatives in France - she's gone there."

"She left England without me?" Draco was confused - his mother had always promised that if it ever got too much, they would go together. "But..."

"She had no choice, Draco," Snape said darkly. "If she had lingered even a day to pick you up, that would have been enough time for the Death Eaters to track her and dispose of her. She is safer in France."

Draco leaned back in his chair. It was all a bit of a shock. "Can I write to her?"

"Of course, dear," Mrs Weasley said, patting his hand.

"You can use Hedwig," Potter said softly from beside him. "She's fast, and is pretty good at being unobtrusive, despite how she looks." Draco gave him a look of thanks, and then asked to be excused. He felt like having a long, hot shower.

Standing under the water, Draco examined his thoughts, trying to discover how he felt about all this. He stayed there for a good half hour or more, letting the water pound down on him, the steam obscuring most of the room until he felt like he was all alone, surrounded by steam. He felt like he could walk through the mist, out of the house, through London, all the way to France.

Eventually the water started to run cold, and he reluctantly turned the shower off. When he pulled aside the curtain, he got the shock of his life.

"Are you okay, Draco?" Potter asked, handing him his towel. Draco was struck dumb for a moment, wondering idiotically how on earth Potter could see him with his glasses all fogged up like that. He quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, thankful for the obscuring steam, and shrugged.

"I'm fine. Why do you all think I'm going to be upset about Lucius dying? I knew exactly what sort of person he was."

"He was still your dad." Potter leaned against the door and folded his arms. "Surely you felt something for him."

"He tried to kill me!" Draco spat. "I was nothing but a pawn for him to offer to the Dark Lord. Whenever I did something wrong, all he could say was how disappointed in me the Dark Lord would be. It would have been nice, for once, for him to be disappointed in me, not his fucking boss." He sat down on the closed toilet, putting his head in his hands, not caring about how the water from his hair dripped down his face. "I spent my entire fucking life trying to get him to care. Why should I care that he's died? At least he died doing what he loved - killing people." Draco let out a choked laugh, glad of the water streaming down his face, concealing the sudden tears he seemed unable to stop.

"Hey, it's okay," Potter murmured, suddenly kneeling on the floor at his side. A hand came up to rub his back, smoothing and calming as Draco's shoulders shook.

"Why the fuck do you care, Potter?" Draco asked, refusing to look up. He grabbed another towel off the rail in front of him and wiped his face before starting to rub his hair dry. "Why are you being nice? You hate me."

"It may surprise you to know that I don't hate you, actually," Potter said thoughtfully.

"Well I hate you," Draco sneered. Or at least, he tried to.

Potter laughed, and climbed to his feet. The knees of his trousers were all wet and sticking to him, but he didn't seem to notice. "No you don't. Come on, get dressed. Dinner's in half an hour."

Draco flipped him the bird as he left and closed the bathroom door behind him.

NINE

"Where are you going?"

"Dunno," Potter said, throwing seemingly random items into a battered knapsack as Draco watched from his bed. "Snape got a lead for a ... um ... something which can probably defeat Voldemort. If we find it, I can kill him." He flipped through a notebook and tossed it into his bag, followed by deodorant and a sockball. Draco frowned.

"What is it you're looking for?"

"Look, I really can't tell you. Honest. This all goes back to the end of sixth year and Dumbledore, okay? He made me swear. But all this, these past two years or so, I've been looking for things which will help me end the war. This should be the last one." He paused in his packing, holding a ragged pair of jeans in one hand, and looked at Draco. "It's kinda dangerous, though. I might... well. You know."

Draco felt himself break out in a cold sweat.

"Fucking hell, Potter... you mean you might die before you get around to killing the bastard?"

"Well... if you think about it logically, I might die anytime I set foot outside Grimmauld Place."

"That's quibbling. Answer the fucking question. Are you going to die on this little mission of yours? Are you at least taking some backup? And so help me if you say you're taking Granger and the Weasel, I think I might have to hit you."

"Why Draco, I had no idea you cared," Potter said sarcastically. "Yes, I might die, but then, I might have died the other times as well. And yes, I'm taking Ron and Hermione, because they've gone with me every other time."

"Can I come?"

"No."

"But..."

Potter levelled a finger at him and growled.

"No fucking way. It's too dangerous. And before you say anything about Ron and Hermione, they know what they're getting into, and they've been through it before. You have no idea what this is all about, and I'm not going to get you killed because you're feeling left out." Potter zipped his bag up and hefted it onto his shoulder. "Any last requests before I go?"

Draco was off the bed and standing in front of Potter before he could stop himself. "Yeah. Don't die. I think I'd miss you." He brushed a quick kiss against Potter's cheek, shoved him out the door and slammed it shut, slapping a strong locking charm on it from the inside.

What the fuck? Draco leaned against the door and breathed deeply.

What now?

It didn't take long for Draco to start missing Potter's presence. It was now strange to fall asleep without someone lying not two metres away from you, and for the first few nights, Draco cast his Silencing Charm without even thinking about it, before realising and taking it down again. No need for silence now, he could gasp and moan as loud as he pleased as he jerked off.

Not that that was working so well these days. He tried thinking about all the girls he had shagged, their smooth skin and soft breasts, the warmth between their legs and just how it felt when he sunk his cock into them. But other, dangerous thoughts kept intruding - Potter's hand stroking his naked back. His thigh pressed against Draco's feet. His slightly stubbled cheek under Draco's lips.

When he remembered the sight of Potter's dick sliding in and out of the Weaselette's mouth, he groaned and came hard.

He hadn't realised how much safer he felt sleeping in a room with someone else. By himself, the shadows seemed darker, more threatening, and more than once he woke up gasping from a nightmare. A little over a week after Potter left, Draco found himself huddled in the corner of his bed, against the wall, holding his pillow to his chest and sobbing silent tears of horror.

If you die, I'll fucking kill you, he thought to himself, then laughed hoarsely, his throat dry and constricted from the persistent tears. What a mess this was.

***