Draco was shifting his weight from right to left foot and glancing around the room to avoid eye contact. "Wait, you're here because you care about Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked skeptically after Draco finished his story that mostly consisted of rambling and peaking so fast that Mr. Weasley couldn't comprehend it.

"No! No, I most certainly do not care about that filthy half-blood. I—er—I don't know why I'm here, but that's not important! Harry is in St. Mungo's!" Draco yelled, hoping Mr. Weasley would either take him or at least leave and he wouldn't feel so awkward about describing everything. Mr. Weasley nodded and headed out the door, slamming it behind him and making Draco practically jump to heaven. Draco scowled, took a seat where he was before and stared around the room.

On the table were the reviews on wedding venues that the girl and boy, who clearly despised his very being, were talking of, but next to those was a letter that appeared to be quite old and, he assumed, dropped out of Harry's robe pocket when Draco placed him on this very table. Harry must've had it for years and forgotten in because it was quite wrinkled and ripped, but legible.

Dear Sirius,

No one wants to listen to me, but I swear I see him follow me through the corridors. Ron and Hermione say I'm just being paranoid because of the upcoming task, but I know I would be scared about his weird behavior anyway. I have an idea on what I think he's doing and what I can do about it. We'll talk about it this Friday at midnight. I'll be by the fire.

Sincerely,

Harry

This only confirmed how old the letter was because Draco had overheard that Sirius died and his aunt was the one to kill him. The smell of the paper was quite nice. It had lost the smell of normal parchment and now had Harry's fragrance. This familiar smell brought Draco back to his worries about Harry and his new concern on why he was truly there. If any other enemy asked him to join them in some oversized shack in the middle of nowhere, he would do more than not comply, but when he'd heard it was Harry's wish he jumped on the offer. Why?

The sun was soon setting over the horizon, leaving the sky a shade of pink that reminded Him of the previous year's teacher, Professor Umbridge. His thoughts soon circled back to Harry as he remembered how much Harry despised the teacher. This innocent reminiscent was cut short because a stag, appearing to be made of radiating light, calmly strutted in through wall and old wooden cabinets. Draco rose and a soothing voice rang around the room. It was the only voice that could soothe Draco, but he didn't hear a word that echoed throughout the room, for he was only focused on the calm tone of the boy. He couldn't have been too badly injured if his tone was so relaxed and carefree. Draco stared dreamily at the stag, mouth opening in awe of its beauty and joy it gave off, but the stag turned and galloped off in the direction he came before erupting into nothingness.

Draco could still feel the wonderful aura of it as he drifted off to sleep in the room where Harry had been earlier. The smell of the bed was putrid, Ron's smell to be exact, but as his nose searched for a smell of a different kind, it found the lilac scent that always seemed to drift around Harry from the blue t-shirt and jeans laying untidy on the old wooden floor. The mere presence of this was enough to act as lullaby to Draco and his gray eyes closed, leaving the imperfectness of the house behind.