"I'm sorry." Harry lifted his head up, and turned to look at the blond.

"What for?"

"I kissed you right after your best friend died."

"I kissed you back though, then I kissed you again." Harry had undoubtedly felt guilty about it. He didn't deserve happiness, no matter what people kept telling him. He was too horrible for happiness, the kiss had only confirmed his selfishness. Because what decent person is happy just about an hour after their brother died? It still felt a bit weird calling him that, though Harry supposed he wouldn't need to anymore.

"Well, yes but-" They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Draco looked at Harry as if to ask permission to open it. Harry really didn't want visitors right now. He looked and felt much too awful for it. So he gave a weak shake of his head, and Draco nodded, getting up. He walked to the door, opening it slowly.

"Is Harry here?" The bundle of red hair made it far too obvious who these people were, though there were people Draco'd never seen. He saw Fleur too, which was a bit odd, but he didn't say anything about it.

"He's not really seeing anybody right now."

"Oh come on Malfoy, we're his family. And you're there," Ginny said, peering behind Draco's shoulder for a glimpse of the boy.

Draco hesitated, then looked back at Harry. Harry, looking defeated, sighed and nodded his head. He opened the door wider, letting them all in, and Merlin, there were a lot of them. Hermione was also with them, but the three boys had not come with them. Taking this as a family matter, Draco debated leaving them alone. It wasn't as if the Weasley's enjoyed his presence anyway. He could only begin to imagine the things Ron and Ginny had said about him.

Draco was just about out the door, when Ginny stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out in the hall," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you get back in here right now, or so help me, I will hex your bollocks off!" Draco walked back in, quite honestly scared. He'd seen the girl in action before, and she'd been a fourth year then. He shivered, not even wanting to think of what she could do now. Closing the door behind him, he shuffled to the corner of the room. When he looked up again, practically everyone's eyes were on him, except for Harry, who had taken to dropping his head onto his knees once again. He shifted uncomfortably under everyone's gaze, wishing he could disappear. It wasn't a bad idea, and Harry's cloak was right next to his feet. So he grabbed it, and threw it over himself, not caring how stupid he must have looked.

And then there was a soft chuckle, and Draco looked for who it was under the cloak. His eyes locked on George, who had his head down slightly, but Draco was positive it was him. And then the other's noticed, and suddenly Ginny was screaming at him again.

"Malfoy, you take that cloak off right now!" He did, and then she was hugging him. "Thank you," she whispered, confusing him.

"I didn't do anything," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"You made him laugh." The answer wasn't enough to diminish his confusion, but he didn't press any further. Everyone watched the scene play out, George now embarrassed and red in the face.

Draco looked over to Harry, who hadn't even acknowledged the others in the room, not that they had spoken to him yet. Ginny broke off from him, and he made his way back over to Harry. Sitting down in the spot he'd been in before, he could hear the uneven breaths coming from the boy next to him.

He scooted closer, so that their arms and legs were touching. The breathing stopped, and Draco could feel Harry tense up even more, before relaxing slowly and breathing again, this time much more evenly.

Slowly, Harry lifted his head up to look at everyone. Bad idea, because he could very clearly see the state they were all in. Harry choked on a sob, knowing he'd done this to them all. It would have been a thousand times easier for everyone, if he'd taken the curse like he was supposed to.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Draco whispered so only he could hear. How did this boy always know what he was thinking?

"You didn't see it happen. You weren't...you weren't...it really was me this time, Draco." And Harry didn't even know he had it in him, but he started crying again. He just wanted everyone to leave. He wanted the pitiful looks to go away, and he wanted people to stop telling him it was going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. Because couldn't they see that he wasn't, and that he'd never be.

Everyone just watched him cry, and he hated it. He fully regretted letting them all in. He regretted letting the others go with him to the Shrieking Shack. He regretted being born, for Merlin's sake!

Harry hated that everything was about him right now, when it so obviously should be about Ron. Couldn't they all see that he just didn't matter, especially right now. Ron was the one who had died, and yet everything was still circling around Harry. Why had the Weasley's even come?

Draco looked up at everyone else. He didn't want to tell them to leave, but he knew Harry didn't want them to stay. Molly seemed to understand, because she ushered everyone out. They hadn't even spoken to him, but she didn't care. Once they'd all gone, Mrs. Weasley turned back around.

"You take care of him, alright dearie? Draco nodded, and she smiled at him. "See you at Christmas, Harry." And Harry didn't have the heart to tell them that they probably wouldn't see him, and then she was gone, along with everyone else.

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He stood up, and just started throwing things. It was similar to what he'd done after Sirius's death, in Dumbledore's office. Draco watched as Harry made a mess of his room, not stopping him. He ducked as a book can his way, then cast a small shield around him. After a little while, when Harry was worn out and his room was a mess, Draco took the shield down. He placed Harry into his bed, then went around picking things up and repairing things that had broken. He was exhausted too, and still in a bit of pain from earlier, but he wasn't just going to steal Neville's bed. He considered leaving, but quickly shut that thought down. So he walked over to the couch, and fell asleep almost instantly.

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