Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, I am just having some fun making them play with each other.

A/N: This is a story written for an exchange fest, using a prompt that wanted the start of a relationship between Harry and Draco. It is four chapters long, (about 20,000 words) and there is a 10,000 word sequel which will be posted as further chapters to this. For those of you looking for a Post HBP Horcrux hunting story, this little tale does not go there. This is only the story of how Harry and Draco start something. That said, the sequel is set post-war. So, sit back in your seats and enjoy the ride.

His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione. (Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.)

Chapter 1.

Because, no matter what they said, Harry was not taking them with him on this journey. He was going to do this alone, despite having no idea where the rest of the Horcruxes were, or even what some of them were.

He'd told Ron and Hermione that he thought he would go back to Godric's Hollow and he would, just not right away. Nor would he grace his Aunt and Uncle's house with his presence immediately. Not that they would even notice - in fact, even if they did notice he wasn't there, they would be pleased rather than worried. And as much as he despised them, their protection had kept him alive long enough so that he had finally come to the point in his life where he felt charged with the confidence that sooner or later he would win. Beat Voldemort …no, kill him this time, and at last be able to live his own life. For that, he was grateful to them, and the bitterness he'd grown up with had resolved itself into a resigned acceptance.

No, he was not going to be at any of the expected places. This journey that he was making on his own was his to make. As much as he could, he was going to keep his friends out of it. He had no doubt that sooner or later they would find out where he was and catch up with him, but the longer that took the better. He'd lost quite enough people that he cared for in this war as it was, without adding any more to the list.

So, with Hogwarts closing down once the students left in an hour or so, Harry could think of no more appropriate place to be. It had always been that way, ever since he had first seen it. It may not be completely safe - in fact, many of Harry's life or death adventures had occurred right here on the school grounds, but he felt safe here. It was home in a way that no other place had ever been.

He was staying right here.

At Hogwarts.

He'd previously packed his trunk with everything he felt he would not need. The most important things were in a knapsack sitting on his bed – some clothing, his map and his Invisibility Cloak. The house elves would forward his trunk on, and where that ended up, he didn't care. He had entrusted Hedwig to the Weasley's, ostensibly until he went to the Burrow for the wedding, and despite her having given Harry a disgusted look and pointedly ignored him afterward, Harry knew that Hedwig would be well cared for.

As the three of them were still talking, Professor McGonagall approached them, her face bleached white with grief and pinched with sadness, but she was seemingly determined to hold herself together, Harry noticed.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," she greeted them, nodding. "Potter, I've been asked to inform you that The Order will be taking no chances with your safety. They –" she closed her eyes and took a breath. "We have made arrangements for you to Floo directly to Arabella Figg's, and she will accompany you to your relatives, where you will stay for the foreseeable future, with the exception of the wedding. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded. There was no reason to upset her with his change of plans. He'd been prepared for The Order to do something as misguided as this to try to ensure his safety, but Harry had learnt that he was not entirely safe anywhere. Still, they did what they could and they needed to be made to feel useful. At this point there was not a lot they could do, apart from try to protect what they had. "Yes, Professor," he replied, ignoring the looks from Hermione and Ron, Hermione no doubt having an attack of guilt about lying to a Professor. "From Professor D- your office, then?"

"I will meet you there in twenty minutes, Potter. Do not be late." She gave them all another look and a nod, and looked prepared to say something else. In the end, she laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder and left the three of them to themselves.

"Harry, you can't lie to her!" Hermione whirled on him the moment Professor McGonagall was out of earshot.

"I can and I did," Harry replied, firm determination back in his voice, but not liking lying to Hermione either.

.o0o.

Ten minutes later, after Harry had said goodbye to his friends, telling them he would see them at the Burrow for the wedding and having flown up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower to grab his knapsack, he was now standing in Professor Dumbledore's old office. There was no way he was waiting for Professor McGonagall to send him through the Floo to Mrs. Figg's, but there was a portrait of Dumbledore hanging alongside all the other portraits of past Headmasters. He wanted a word with Dumbledore, if he was up to it. Besides, he needed to leave a message for Professor McGonagall so she would think he had gone on ahead early.

Staring up at the portrait, Harry saw that the Professor Dumbledore in it had not moved since he had seen him the last time. He was still slumbering in the chair, as it seemed, were the rest of the figures in the other portraits lining the office walls. Harry had no idea how magical portraits worked, but he wondered if perhaps their portrait selves needed time to adjust to being dead.

"I wish you could talk to me and tell me that I'm doing the right thing, Professor," Harry whispered, not wanting to wake the other portraits. A final blessing would have been nice, but Harry felt that what he was doing was right and was determined.

There were parchment and quills on the desk, and Harry quickly left Professor McGonagall a note, telling her that he had decided not to wait for her, but had already left via the Floo. A part of him wanted to thank her for taking such good care of him through his six years here, as he wasn't sure when, or indeed if, he would ever see her again. But in the end he didn't; she might become suspicious.

Just as he was signing his name to the note, a voice broke through the silence.

"Harry, my boy," it said.

Dumbledore!

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, swinging around to the portrait to see the old man sitting up much straighter in his chair and looking fondly at him. "Sir…"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "There is little time. I must tell you something that may help. You must not believe the worst of Professor Snape. He was acting under my orders; he could still be of use to you."

"I'll never believe anything that comes out of that man's mouth," Harry snarled, aware that he was being disrespectful to Professor Dumbledore, but unable to keep the scathing disgust from his voice. How could he expect Harry to trust Snape after all that he had done?

"You must make your own choices of course, Harry, but if you trust me at all, then please take heed of my words." There was none of the old twinkling Dumbledore now, Harry saw. This was serious, and Harry calmed slightly, not prepared to change his stance, but prepared to listen at least.

Dumbledore seemed to look off toward the door. "Unfortunately, there is no time to go into detail, someone is coming, and if I assume correctly then you do not want to be found here. One last thing, Harry, before you go," Dumbledore said quickly. At his words, Harry already had his Invisibility Cloak out from his bag and was swirling it around himself, just his head still visible.

"Yes, Professor?"

"If you should come across young Mr. Malfoy in your search for the remaining Horcruxes, remember the offer of protection I made to him. He doesn't need to be another victim of Voldemort, Harry."

Harry nodded. He'd already decided that if Malfoy was back with Voldemort he would be punished enough already for failing his mission. If he were still alive, that is. He doubted that he would see Malfoy again, but if he did he wouldn't kill him on sight. Turn him over to the Order maybe, but Malfoy would be alive when he did so.

"Yes, Professor. Goodbye," Harry said, bringing the cloak up over his head, a lump in his throat, now. He was hoping that once Hogwarts was closed and the school locked up, that the wards and passwords would not be changed and he would be able to come back and talk to Dumbledore again.

"Take care, Harry, I have faith in you," were the last words Harry heard before the door to the office opened and Professor McGonagall entered. He stayed just long enough to ensure that she found the note, and he heard her muttering about impatient children as he slipped through the door. At least she wasn't suspicious. And obviously, Dumbledore didn't 'know' everything, as he had no idea that Harry was staying in the school, though he would soon enough.

For two days after the students left, Harry stayed secreted in the Room of Requirement, only venturing out under his Invisibility Cloak to try to ascertain what was happening with the staff after the closing of the school. The room he'd set up was simple - just a bed and sitting area as well as a bathroom. It was basic, but all he needed, and he dubbed it 'Harry's Room' so that he could easily come and go as he pleased.

Once the Professors had all left and the castle was eerily quiet, devoid of the usual noises, where even the ghosts seemed to have deserted the place; Harry still made use of the Cloak. Filch and his horrid cat were still prowling around, but Harry supposed even he would be leaving eventually. Further, the walls had eyes in this castle and it would not do for the portraits to be talking to each other about Harry still being in the school and pass it on to someone that had access to Order headquarters.

He'd spent most of the last two days planning what to do. He planned on staying at Hogwarts for a short while, until it was safe to leave, before using one of the secret tunnels to get beyond the wards and Apparate where he needed to go. After he left he didn't plan on coming back, unless it was an emergency and he needed a safe place to be for a while.

Godric's Hollow was first on his list; somehow it felt like the thing to do. It was where everything for him had begun; it was where he should begin, too. Not that he knew what he was looking for or what answers he expected to find there, he just knew that that was where he needed to start. If nothing else, it was where he'd feel close to his mum and dad and gather some inner strength from their memories.

Visiting there would have to wait a week or so, though. When Mrs. Figg told the Order that Harry hadn't turned up at her place, Godric's Hollow would be the first place they looked. In their concern for him, Hermione and Ron would tell where he'd planned on going. He wished that he'd been able to make a better plan, but there it was and it would have to do. As long as he had the advantage of the Room of Requirement, then he would be safe enough.

And Dobby. Despite the fact that Dobby worked for Professor Dumbledore…actually, Harry reflected with a pang, he wondered who exactly Dobby worked for now. He had no understanding of what happened to a House Elf when their master died, but he supposed that Dobby had been employed to work at Hogwarts and there he would stay. Luckily for Harry, Dobby had always been loyal to him and therefore had agreed to supply him with food regularly and to keep his presence a secret.

At the moment he was going around the school, testing all the tunnel entrances to ensure that they still worked and were accessible. Not much point in staying at Hogwarts unless he could come and go as he pleased without detection. The first one on his list was the tunnel that led to the Shrieking Shack.

In the moonlight he could see the dark outline of the Whomping Willow, tall and somehow still menacing. As he walked towards it under his Invisibility Cloak, he wondered if the tree was able to sense him through the cloak.

Just as he approached, a figure emerged from the entrance at the base of the tree. Harry froze, despite being invisible. No one was supposed to be on the school grounds. Who was it? Was it a Death Eater? Had someone discovered that he was still at the school and sent someone to kill him? Or to take him to his relatives? He took a step backwards and stepped on a twig, the cracking loud in the quiet of the night. The stealthy figure turned towards the sound as if startled and just as nervous as Harry. He saw a wand being raised, and could almost hear the other's increased breathing. His own heart had sped up with the fear of being discovered. What panicked him more was that when the figure turned to the sound, he got quite a clear look at who it was.

Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy was right here? How did that happen? Why? A hundred questions went through Harry's mind, but the most prominent thought was that he had to capture Malfoy. Followed shortly thereafter by the intriguing thought that perhaps Dumbledore knew more than Harry thought he did. The irony of Dumbledore speaking of Malfoy and then Harry finding Malfoy did not escape him. Harry's wand was in his hand in a moment, clenched tightly around it, ready.

"Stupefy," Harry said, whipping off his cloak and firing off the spell before Malfoy even had a chance to recognise who it was.

Malfoy dropped to the ground, stunned, and Harry moved carefully over to him, looking down into the pointed face with a mixture of anger, frustration and curiosity. Where had Malfoy been since he Apparated the night Dumbledore died? Wherever it was, it mattered little; he was Harry's captive now, and at the first opportunity he would turn Malfoy over to The Order.

Damn Malfoy, why did he have to turn up now?

Because Harry couldn't turn him over to the Order just yet; he didn't want to give away that he was still here at Hogwarts. And whatever plan he came up with, Malfoy was sure to tell them, either of his own accord or under the influence of Veritaserum. Bugger. The thought of Obliviating Malfoy and then dropping him at Order Headquarters crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. He had no stomach for altering someone's mind. It felt immoral somehow. Yes, the Ministry used it quite freely, he remembered from the Quidditch World Cup, when the Ministry Obliviated the Muggle park owner. But he'd felt faintly ill and uncomfortable about that at the time. He would just have to keep Malfoy in the Room of Requirement with him until it was time for him to leave for good. Bloody hell.

Harry quickly levitated Malfoy vertical and draped his Invisibility Cloak around both of them awkwardly, thankful that Malfoy was no taller than he. The cloak definitely wasn't meant to be covering something as inflexible as Malfoy was right now. However, Harry managed to cover them both, and slowly he made his way back to the school.

Once inside his room, Harry set Malfoy down, laying him on the couch. He confiscated Malfoy's wand and stowed it in his knapsack before using his own wand to bind Malfoy's hands and feet.

Rather than Enervate him immediately, Harry took the chance to observe Malfoy more closely. He certainly looked like he had not been living in the comfort to which he was assumedly used. Malfoy's face was even more pinched and pale than the last time he had seen him. It was streaked with dirt, his normally perfectly groomed hair tangled and grimy, and there were big black circles around his eyes. Harry's hand itched to make those black circles under his eyes darker by punching him a few times, but he refrained. Malfoy looked pathetic enough as it was.

It would serve Malfoy right though, if Harry beat him to within an inch of his life. The number of people's lives he had put in danger through his actions meant Malfoy was no longer an innocent. Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched Malfoy and his fist curled once more. Ron and Katie had almost died; he'd let Death Eaters into the school, along with Fenrir Greyback, who had left Bill Weasley with terrible disfiguring scars for life. Malfoy deserved to suffer.

But, in the end, Harry only took a few deep breaths and reminded himself that Malfoy had been operating under threat of Voldemort killing him and his family. Which didn't leave him blameless, not by a long shot, but it did quell Harry's desire for vengeance. Up to a point. Besides, if he was going to beat Malfoy to a pulp, he'd rather the prick be awake when he did it.

"Finite Incantatem." Harry waved his wand at Malfoy, cast Enervate a second later, and stepped back to watch the boy revive. It was almost comical, really. Malfoy's eyes opened and blinked, and obviously Harry wasn't in his line of vision, because Malfoy looked at the ceiling, turned his eyes sideways to look at the back of the couch he was lying on, and made a relieved sort of sound. One that signified that he thought he was somewhere safe. Then of course he found that his arms were bound, as were his legs, and he began to struggle, face furious and panicked all at once.

Harry did laugh then, and Malfoy immediately went still and closed his eyes as if recognising the laugh. Then, when he had taken a breath and collected himself, he turned cool grey eyes to Harry and barked "Get these off me, Potter!"

"Right. You think I'm letting you free? I don't think so, Malfoy."

Malfoy began to struggle once more, trying to free his wrists from the bindings. "Potter, I swear that as soon as I get free of these, I'll fucking make you pay for this!" Malfoy's face was a picture of rage.

Harry watched as the heated flush of anger on Malfoy's cheeks spread to his throat and neck, and it looked so startling against the normal pallor of his skin that Harry wondered if it was as hot to the touch as it looked. Blinking the thought away, he sneered instead.

"Sure you will. I have your wand. What are you doing back here anyway? Thought you'd be tucked up with your good buddy Snape, laughing over how you got away with it."

"Well, seeing as I don't know where here is…" Malfoy grunted, still trying to free his wrists, but Harry had done the bindings up good and tight and he could see the flaming red marks around Malfoy's pale, bony wrists. "You'll excuse me if I don't answer that stupid question. As if I'd tell you anyway."

"We're at Hogwarts," Harry told him. "Why aren't you with Snape?" he asked again. It suddenly struck Harry that Malfoy didn't look like he had seen a bath or a comb since he'd left Hogwarts. Was it possible that he hadn't gone with Snape?

Malfoy slumped back on the couch, chest heaving as he caught his breath. He'd stopped struggling against the bindings and closed his eyes, seeming to calm himself down. "Remove these and I'll tell you," he tried, but Harry was having none of it.

"No, you tell me why you're here and where you have been since you left the school, and then I'll consider untying you."

"What are you going to do with me?" Malfoy asked, turning his eyes back to Harry's. They had a faint look of worry around the edges, Harry saw. Worry and exhaustion.

"Depends on what you tell me," Harry said, deliberately hiding the fact that he was going to keep Malfoy right here in this room. He didn't relish the thought of living in such close quarters with Malfoy, but his need for secrecy outweighed his distaste. He would just have to put up with it. If Malfoy got too annoying, he could always just gag him and tie him up. He quite liked the idea of Malfoy tied up, he thought as he watched the blond still trying spasmodically to free himself.

A frown of anguish crossed Malfoy's face before it disappeared to be replaced by one of resignation. "I couldn't go back…to him."

"Why not?" Harry shot back.

Malfoy looked up at him in exasperation. "Why do you think? I failed! I fucking failed, Potter! A Death Eater doesn't last long if they fail the Dark Lord."

"You didn't come here to find me and take me back to him?"

"No." Malfoy shook his head. "I don't think I would do that now, even if you tied yourself up and told me to. Not after what he put me through this year. He's a madman."

"You have his mark?" Harry asked.

Malfoy lifted his arm and the sleeve of his torn robe fell back and there it was. Stark and black against Malfoy's pale skin: Harry almost shivered just looking at it.

"What will you do if he calls you? I know that the marks burn."

Malfoy shrugged. "Ignore it. Put up with it. Why do you care?"

"I care because you might decide that the pain is too much to ignore and give in to him. And take me back with you, when you go," Harry retorted.

"Look," Malfoy began heatedly, "I didn't do what I had to this year because I wanted to, Potter. I had no fucking choice! I was hoping to stay out of it all – that fucker scares the shit out of me, but… What would YOU do to save your family?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, and Harry left unsaid that there was always a choice. You might not like what the alternatives were, but there was always a choice. Still, it did feel like there were things that one had no choice over, and protecting family to the best of your ability was always a dominant one.

"So, what about your mother, then? Won't he kill her like he threatened?"

Malfoy's face crumpled and he nodded. "How did you know about that?"

"I was there when you told Dumbledore," Harry replied, a sliver of understanding in his voice. As Malfoy rolled his eyes and dropped his head back on the couch, Harry continued.

"So, where have you been? On the run?"

In a very small voice, sounding like someone who had lost everything, Malfoy told him.

"I didn't Apparate with Snape that night. Instead, I took off into the Forest and have been in there ever since. I've hidden from bloody Centaurs, fought great bloody spiders and watched as that half-breed giant, Hagrid talked to another bloody giant. I ate what I could find and slept when I could. Which wasn't much." Malfoy shifted around on the couch, slumped and looking as lost as his voice sounded. "Now, if you don't mind, just hand me over to the fucking Ministry and be done with it. I don't care anymore."

And to Harry's astonishment, Malfoy began to cry. Although why he should be surprised, he didn't know, he'd come across Malfoy crying once before. There was no sound from Malfoy as he cried, just tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Not being particularly good with comforting crying people, Harry didn't move or say anything, just watched and used the time to process what he'd heard. So, Malfoy was on the run from Voldemort; actually, he was on the run from everyone, as the Ministry would likely try him as a Death Eater and he'd be given the Kiss in Azkaban.

And why did he believe him? There was no reason not to. No one knew Harry was at Hogwarts still, and therefore Malfoy was not coming for him. The castle was basically deserted; there could be no one else that Malfoy was on a mission to kill. Plus, he seemed to know about Grawp, Hagrid's half-brother, and only a few people had known that he was in the Forbidden Forest. It only followed that Malfoy must have been in the Forest as he claimed.

It seemed they were both hiding, then.

Harry aimed his wand and released the bindings from Malfoy's wrists and ankles. As the boy shot up in surprise and began to rub his wrists, Harry met his questioning eyes sympathetically.

"I'm not turning you into the Ministry. Not yet, anyway. You'll tell them where I am, and I have no need for their interference in what I have to do."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. "Saint Potter on the run? I don't believe it."

Harry actually laughed at that. "Not on the run as such, just avoiding any Ministry blunders. That and trying not to get my friends killed in this bloody war."

He was glad that Malfoy bit back a response. It showed that he, too, had been thinking about the situation. "Why did you come back to Hogwarts, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Safety, really," Malfoy replied, still rubbing at red raw wrists. "I saw everyone leaving and assumed that the school had closed after Professor Dum-" He broke off with a grimace and Harry had to think that perhaps he did feel guilt over his part in Dumbledore's death after all.

Harry nodded. "Well, the staff have all left, apart from Filch and Mrs. Norris. There are the house- elves of course, but the main problem is the portraits. I'm pretty sure that their network of communication is the way in which Dumbledore seemed to always know what was going on in the castle."

"So, where are we in the castle then?" Malfoy looked around at the room, thinking, and Harry didn't need to answer him, as shortly his gaze fell back on him in realisation. "Oh."

Harry stood and moved to stand in front of Malfoy. "Look, I don't like you and you don't like me," he began, and ignored the answering smirk from Malfoy, "but we both have our reasons for not being found by anyone, and I'm thinking that if you can keep from making me want to hex you every time you open your mouth, then you can stay here with me."

"I'm not on your side, Potter," Malfoy flashed back. "I'll not be helping you or anything," he warned.

"I don't expect you to help me, but if you plan to ever leave this room before I'm ready to leave the castle for good, then you had better behave yourself." Harry shot back. He was prepared to bind Malfoy every time he left the room if it came to that, but he didn't think so. Malfoy had much stronger reasons than Harry for remaining undetected.

"Fine," Malfoy acknowledged after a while. "Do I get my wand back?"

Harry shook his head, "No, that's my insurance that you won't leave the castle on your own."

Sighing, Malfoy nodded. "Looks like you've got yourself a room mate, Potter," he said, false cheer in his voice. "Is there anything to eat around here?"

"I've already eaten, but I'll ask Dobby to bring you something." Harry replied. "Dobby!" he called and with a crack, the small house-elf appeared. Harry gave instructions for food and Dobby jumped from one foot to the other, likely in glee at being able to serve Harry Potter. Harry also told Dobby that Malfoy was going to be staying at Hogwarts with Harry and that his presence was also to be kept a secret. Dobby looked at Malfoy, frightened for a moment, then nodded and popped away, to return in a few moments with trays of food.

Malfoy dug in immediately, obviously ravenous, while Harry busied himself by heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. It was while he was stripped off and looking for his pyjama pants in the pile of clothes on the hamper that he looked up and saw in the mirror that he had forgotten to close the door. Being on his own up until now, he'd not bothered.

He stilled in shock, as he could also see through the door and into the living area. Malfoy was looking at him, fork poised mid way to his mouth, which was slightly open. If Malfoy was embarrassed catching Harry naked, he didn't show it and Harry was used to being naked in front of his dorm mates and Quidditch team mates in the showers after a game, so he wasn't particularly fazed by having Malfoy see him naked, either.

However, it was Malfoy's stillness and the fact that Malfoy had not just glanced at him and looked away in disgust, nor had he let his gaze wander up and down Harry's body first before turning away, that made his skin prickle with something akin to goose bumps. No, it was that Malfoy's eyes had lingered over his arse. Time seemed to stand still, then, as Harry watched Malfoy watching his arse. Words he should say never made it past his lips. He should tell Malfoy to stop staring, or move and slam the door, or ask him if he liked what he saw. But he didn't say a word or move until Malfoy's continued inspection of his bottom made Harry's muscles flinch. Then, Malfoy let his eyelids flutter closed, and the spell was broken.

Harry blushed furiously, grabbed his pyjama bottoms and threw them on as quickly as possible. He caught sight of his own face in the mirror, saw how flushed he was and knew he couldn't go back out there just yet. Why the fuck had he just done that? Why hadn't he shut the door? And why for fuck's sake had he liked it? His questioning eyes met themselves in the mirror and had no answers for him either.

He was used to people fawning over him because of his name. He had always chafed under the scrutiny of both well-wishers and those who were out to do him harm. It made him feel uncomfortable, as if he was being tested, judged and would be found wanting. Malfoy's little eye flutter had indicated that he was anything but found wanting. No, he told himself, it was just an accident, a trick of the light. Malfoy was tired and half starved and…and a sneaking, evil little arrogant bastard who had had, until this year, making Harry's life hell as his chief mission in life.

Harry breathed a little easier after that reminder of just who Malfoy was and why he hated him so much. Their temporary truce wouldn't change a thing. Right, then. Harry took a last look at himself in the mirror before he turned and left the bathroom, acting as if nothing had happened. Because of course, nothing had. Right.

Malfoy didn't meet his eyes when Harry sat down on the couch beside him, obviously concentrating on finishing the last of his meal. "The bathroom's free. I expect you'll want a shower. Dobby will collect your clothes from Slytherin for you and you can sleep on the couch," Harry informed him, careful to keep things impersonal.

As Malfoy was finishing his last mouthful, he turned to Harry and ran his eyes over Harry's bare chest, before nodding. "Would you like me to leave the bathroom door open, too? I'm quite sure I could give you a much better show than the one you gave me, although I do have to say, you've been hiding a pretty decent body under those disgusting clothes all these years."

Harry was mortified. "Cut it out, Malfoy," he said, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice. He did not want to hear that Malfoy thought he had a good body. That was the last thing he wanted to hear coming out of his mouth. But Malfoy just looked at him with one of those smirks that he surely must have patented, as Harry almost knew it as well as he knew his own smile after all the times it had been used in his presence.

He shook his head, not prepared to enter into any verbal battles with him tonight. "Just go and have your shower, Malfoy, I'm sure the rest of your things will be here by the time you get out."

Malfoy stood without a further word and did as he was told, shutting the bathroom door. Harry gave a wry grin at seeing the door closed; he'd half expected it to be left open just to annoy him. Not that he wanted to see Malfoy in the shower.

Whilst Malfoy was showering, Harry had Dobby collect what things of Malfoy's were left in his Slytherin dorm room, which wasn't much. Dobby informed him that most of his things had been sent home before that night and only a few things that were being laundered at the time were left behind.

There was the occasional mumble coming from the shower; Harry was sure he could hear Malfoy complaining about the shampoo and anything else of Harry's that was in the bathroom, but he ignored it and lay down on his bed, tired. He needed to think. What was to stop Malfoy using the time that Harry slept to capture him and take him back to Voldemort? To return as a hero? Only Malfoy's word, and Harry had never had occasion to believe in a Malfoy's word before now…but…the look on his face when he said that he wouldn't go back now…well, that had been real. Unless Malfoy was a really good actor and Harry didn't think so. As a precaution, he hid Malfoy's wand in the pillowcase of his pillow; his own he would keep on his person. Just in case.

And how was he going to cope with Malfoy resident in his room all the time he was here? He was going to have to be careful what information he left lying around. It wouldn't do for anyone else to know about the Horcruxes; Professor Dumbledore had made him promise not to tell anyone but Ron and Hermione. Damn and blast Malfoy! He was really going to put a curb on why Harry wanted to be here in the first place.

The bathroom door opened, interrupting his thoughts, and Malfoy emerged with just a towel wrapped around his hips. Harry thought he could have wrapped it a bit higher, it was almost indecent the amount of skin he was exposing. But, of course, it got worse.

Spotting his robes and things on the couch, Malfoy smiled and ripped off his towel, tossed it back into the bathroom, and then walked across the room, naked and unconcerned as far as Harry could see. He swallowed and looked away, up at the ceiling.

"Potter." Malfoy's voice drew his eyes back, where, thankfully, he had put on some boxer shorts and was dragging a singlet over his head. "I'm not sleeping on this couch. It's lumpy and uncomfortable. You sleep on it and I'll take the bed."

"Sod off, Malfoy. This is my bed and I'm sleeping in it. You can sleep on the floor or the couch, I don't care. Wherever you sleep will have to be better than the ground in the forest, so be thankful," Harry replied. Concern for Malfoy's sleeping comfort was last on the list of things to care about.

Malfoy huffed and continued to grumble as he lay down on the couch. Harry knew it wasn't that bad but Malfoy, of course, would be used to only the best. Too bad. Harry wasn't about to give up his bed for someone he hated.

"Can I at least have a blanket, Potter?" Malfoy grouched.

Harry sighed and removed one from his own bed, tossing it to Malfoy before flopping back down, curling up on his side, ready for sleep. "Now, shut up and go to sleep, Malfoy." Not wanting to fall asleep before Malfoy, Harry lay on his bed quietly, turning onto his side so that he could observe the blond. If the look on Malfoy's face meant anything, then despite his grumbling, he seemed happy enough. Perhaps it was that he felt safer in here with his hated rival than out in the Forest.

Just as he was thinking these thoughts, Malfoy turned his head to look at Harry. "Thanks, Potter," he said, yawning and looking a bit like a tired child.

Surprised, as he had never heard those words coming from a Malfoy mouth, Harry asked, "What for?"

Malfoy rolled his now drooping eyes. "For not turning me in. For giving me somewhere safe to stay." He yawned once more. "And I expect I'll deny the thanks in the morning, but right now, I'm too relieved to care."

Harry lay awake long after Malfoy fell asleep, thinking about the sharp left turn his life had taken. He knew he'd done the right thing by offering Malfoy somewhere safe; Dumbledore would have approved. What Harry didn't understand was why his hatred for Malfoy had all but disappeared.