Harry awoke bleary-eyed on the morning of his second day in the hospital wing, and knew instantly that he was not alone. Someone was sitting on the end of his bed - he could feel their weight next to his feet. Groggily, feeling a sharp pain in the newly-healed cut on his arm, he pushed himself up on his elbows a little to see a blurry figure whom he recognised as Draco, cross-legged, on the end of his bed. Reaching for his glasses, Harry wondered why Draco hadn't noticed him wake up, but as the world came into focus he saw that Draco was reading Jane Eyre. His favourite. No wonder he hadn't noticed.

"Morning," Harry grinned tiredly. Draco jumped in surprise and looked up at Harry, first with shock, and then happy relief. Quickly dog-earing the page, he threw the book to the side and scrambled over, pulling Harry into a very tight hug and burying his face in his neck.

"Harry! You're awake! I was so worried about you, I'm so sorry I didn't come yesterday, I tried but I couldn't! There were loads of people for ages and then after that you feel asleep and I didn't want to disturb you... I'm so sorry, I should have done something... I should have protected you,"

"There was nothing you could have done!"

"I should have done something. I tried but Blaise stopped me. Oh God, Harry, when I heard you screaming... I thought-" Draco cut off and pulled out of the hug, examining Harry's face with an intense gaze. "Are you alright? How do you feel?"

"Better," Harry winced as the cut on his arm gave a twinge. Draco didn't look convinced.

"Did you get hurt badly?"

"Cut on my arm. Nothing major."

"Do you want to say what happened yet? Or do you want to wait?"

"I'll tell you at some point but... not right now. It's too raw."

Harry felt like Draco's piercing eyes were looking straight through him, and felt terrible for putting him through so much worry. He grasped for a change of subject.

"Cornelius Fudge was here yesterday."

"The Minister for Magic? Why?"

"Well, officially it was to give me my prize money. I had totally forgotten about it, but I guess I did 'win' the tournament, though it doesn't feel like I did."

"What about unofficially?"

"He told me I was a deranged lunatic and that I was making everything up. I think he's been reading Rita Skeeter. To be honest, it's probably best that you didn't try to see me yesterday; you wouldn't have enjoyed the conversation."

"What? What does he mean by that? Made what up?"

Draco looked shocked, and Harry realised that he had completely failed to change the subject. He sighed, resigned. "Okay, I'll tell you just now - if your dad hasn't already - but don't make me go into details. Promise?"

Draco put a hand on Harry's cheek. "My dad hasn't told me anything yet, and I would never make you do or say anything you didn't want. You know that."

Harry smiled briefly at Draco, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Painfully, he began to recite to Draco what he had seen in the graveyard, and what had transpired in Mad E- Barty Crouch's office. He used a coping method to prevent himself from getting upset, one that he had been forced to come up with all the way back in first year. Unfortunately, he had to do a lot of coping in the past few years. He pretended he was telling another person's story, distancing himself to a point where he felt disconnected from the entire experience. Even so, when he had finished, he realised that he had tears welling up in his eyes. He squeezed them shut and shook his head like a horse trying to get rid of flies. Draco shut his mouth, which had been hanging slightly ajar throughout the telling, and swallowed, hard. Then he said, in a surprisingly calm voice:

"Harry, you don't have to be brave with me."

And it was those words that finally broke the barrier of bravery Harry had created. He found himself sobbing into Draco's shoulder as Draco held him tightly and allowed him to cry out the knot of suppressed sadness and fear and rage that he had been carrying with him for so long. It was the first time Harry had really cried since that day, about a week before the Yule Ball, when he and Draco had first kissed. But this time it was different ,because now he had Draco. He knew that with Draco, he could get through anything.

0o0oDraco0o0o

"How is he?" Asked Blaise, as Draco walked into the dorm half an hour later. It was empty - most of the Slytherins were out to lunch - meaning that he and Blaise could talk in private.

"He's a lot of things," Draco sighed, sitting down on his bed and lightly stroking Manimi's head. She uncoiled herself and opened her eyes, probably wanting to listen in as Draco hadn't allowed her to visit Harry in person, just yet.

"He'll survive?"

"He always does."

Blaise looked down at the blankets of his four-poster, and asked, quietly: "Are they true? The rumours?"

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed the side of his head. "No. He didn't attack Cedric."

"Well, of course not," Blaise nodded, though he hadn't seemed so sure earlier. "Potter is many things, but he's not a killer."

"According to Harry," Draco continued, "And, by the way, I believe Harry on this: the cup was a portkey. It took them to a graveyard, and that's where Cedric was killed."

"How?"

"You're not going to want to hear this, Blaise."

"You're still going to tell me, though."

Draco nodded. "Just... prepare yourself. Okay. It was one of the Dark Lord's followers - Wormtail - who killed him. Avada Kedavra."

All the blood seemed to leave Blaise's face at the mention of the Dark Lord. Draco continued.

"Harry was tied to a gravestone, as far as I can tell, and Wormtail cut his arm. He put his blood into a potion, along with his own hand - yeah, I mean it: he cut it clean off - and bones from the grave. Blaise, I really don't want to tell you-"

"Draco, could you just spit it out?"

"They brought him back. The Dark Lord."

Blaise stood up very fast and wiped his hands over his face. They were shaking. Then, without warning, he kicked out at the leg of his four-poster.

"Fuck!"

Draco jumped at the suddenness and loudness of Blaise's anger, and squeezed his eyes shut, as if merely shutting out the light could stop the shouting. "Please, Blaise, calm-"

"Calm down? You expect me to calm down about this?!" Blaise was yelling right in Draco's face. Fear wriggled through Draco's mind as his body began to assume, out of experience, that the shouting meant danger.

"Please don't shout-"

"He's back," Blaise said with a snarl, kicking out once again at the leg of the four-poster. "Don't you realise what this means? Your father; all the parents of our bloody dorm mates; everyone we know in Slytherin are going to become spies! We can never be safe anymore, especially not you and him!"

Manimi gave a sudden twitch, and without warning, snaked off the side of the bed and out of the room.

"Where's she going?!" Asked Blaise angrily, putting unnecessary force into the words. Draco said nothing and Blaise, pausing for a moment, seemed to calm down a little. He looked at Draco. He had moved right back on his bed, away from Blaise, and almost seemed to cower away from him with his knees clutched to his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut.

"Draco?"

The boy flinched, even at the quiet sound of Blaise's voice, and opened his eyes warily. Only then did he realise that he had moved from his original position on the bed, and loosened his body, though he was still flushed.

"Are you done shouting?" he asked, in a voice that made him sound much younger than he was. Blaise looked at him, worry in his eyes.

"Did- did I make you think of your dad or something?" He asked, embarrassed. Draco looked at the floor determinedly. Blaise sighed. "Look Draco, I'm sorry. I was just shocked. I didn't mean to..." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Draco shrugged, still tense. "Manimi is probably going to the hospital wing. She'll want to hear this from Harry." He didn't want to look Blaise in the eyes and instead stared at the covers of his bed. "Can I please continue telling you what happened?

Blaise nodded, and sat back down on the bed looking sheepish. "So, you were saying?"

Harry had done, Draco recited what had happened in the graveyard that night. When he had finished, Blaise said nothing for several minutes. Draco appreciated that.

"And Potter is telling the truth?" he asked, eventually.

"I believe so, yes."

Blaise sighed, clasping his hands behind his head. "This is going to change everything."

"Yes," Draco agreed quietly, "yes, it will."

0o0oHarry0o0o

The guest room was unusually cool for such warm summer's day, perhaps due to the fact that its windows looked out into the lake, and therefore was never warmed by the rays of the sun. Whatever the reason, the chill air suited the mood in the room today. It was the last day of term. Time to say goodbye. Manimi was absent, having already spoken to Harry and said her goodbyes before giving the boys some privacy.

It is often said that actions say an awful lot more than words can, and today, both boys were speechless. They didn't have the words to express the goodbye that neither wanted to suffer, even if only for a month and a half of summer. And so they showed each other how they felt. They were on the sofa, Harry on top, with Draco's legs wrapped around his hips as they kissed, hungry for as much as they could get out of these last few stolen moments. The kiss slowed, and then stopped as the two boys pulled slightly apart. Tentatively, Draco slid his hands up under Harry's shirt and lifted it, his pale hands showing up white against Harry's tanned skin. Harry's hair became messier as Draco pulled the fabric over his head, dropping it next to the sofa. Harry shivered as Draco's cold fingers trailed over his bare chest, exploring the new territory.

Unable to stop himself, Harry leant down and kissed Draco once more, his hands making their own way under Draco's shirt, first playing with the fabric, and then beginning to lift it. Then, something changed, and Draco caught Harry's wrists, preventing him from lifting the shirt. Confused, Harry pulled away.

"Is something wrong?"

Draco sat up and looked away, his face turning red. Harry shuffled off him.

"Whats wrong? Is it something I did?"

"No," Draco said quickly, "It's not that. It's just..." He trailed off, biting his lip.

Harry reached over and touched Draco's hand. "Tell me,"

Draco sighed, looking down at his knees. "I have a scar on my stomach,"

Harry was a little surprised. "Is that all?"

"My father gave it to me when I was nine years old. He-" Draco took a deep, slightly shaky breath, seeming to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to say. "I had done something wrong. I don't even remember what it was - it can't have been anything too bad. But he got very angry. He became violent - I mean, more violent than usual - and I guess he just grabbed whatever was closest. The thing is, I was unlucky. The thing he grabbed was a knife which had been charmed so that any damage it caused could never completely heal. If it had been anything else, then a simple spell could have erased any cuts or marks from my skin, just like it had never happened. Not this time."

Harry shuffled forward, clasping Draco's cold hands tightly as he continued.

"I don't remember exactly what happened. I think my brain must have tried to block out the memories of it afterwards, as some sort of defence? But I remember the pain. And a lot of blood. I fainted at some point, woke up a day later in St. Mungo's. It took two months to heal to a point where I could leave the hospital without the scab opening, and six before it even started to become a scar instead of a scab. And now I have this disgusting... thing... on my body forever. It's like this constant reminder of my father, like I can never escape him. I'm sorry, Harry, I just..."

He trailed off. Harry watched Draco's face intently. He wasn't crying, but he was clearly upset, and angered by the whole retelling. Harry tried to think what the right thing to say was, but he didn't know. Eventually, he decided to go with what felt right.

"Stand up," Harry asked softly, getting off the sofa and gently pulling Draco with him. When they were both standing in front of each other, Harry dropped Draco's hands and began to lift his shirt, this time in a way that was less urgent, and instead borne of love, rather than lust. Draco raised his arms over his head and allowed Harry to pull the shirt over his head and drop it on top of his own, next to the sofa. Then Harry reconnected their lips once more, pulling Draco closer to him. Distantly, through the feeling of the kiss, Harry noticed that, though he was still taller, Draco didn't have to go on the tips of his toes to kiss him anymore.

Slowly Harry pulled back once more and planted a single kiss on Draco's lips.

"You are beautiful."

He began to kiss down Draco's neck, and got to his knees as he moved lower. Now he saw the scar, a shiny white - pink shape across the otherwise unmarked skin. Gently, he kissed the tarnished skin.

"Your scar is a part of you, and that makes it beautiful."

Then, slowly, Harry moved his hands to the buckle of Draco's belt and began to unfasten it, moving on to the button of Draco's jeans, and then the zip. Finally, he hooked his thumbs over the top of the jeans and the waistband of Draco's boxers, but before doing anything else, he looked up and met Draco's gaze.

"Is this alright?" Harry could see that Draco's jeans had tightened, just as his own had, but that didn't mean that Draco was comfortable with this.

Draco didn't say anything, but he nodded quickly, and Harry turned his attention back to the jeans, quickly sliding them down Draco's legs, followed by the boxers. Then, he leant forward and kissed the spot just above Draco's groin, underneath his belly button. He heard Draco suck in air at the contact.

"Everything about you is beautiful, Draco. Never think otherwise."

0o0o

"Was that the first time you've done that?" Draco asked breathlessly. Harry saw that his pupils had dilated until they looked huge and intense, and that what could be seen of the irises had turned from their usual white-grey to a much darker, lustful blue.

Harry nodded, grinning. "It's not like I've ever had much chance to practice, is it?" Then, in a more serious voice, he asked, "Was it good?"

"Harry, It was amazing!" Draco grinned, and pulled Harry in for another kiss. "I'm going to miss you even more now,"

Harry laughed, and turned away a little to give Draco some space to pull his clothes back on.

"It's not too long. Only seven weeks."

"It's far too long," Draco said. Having done up his belt buckle, he moved over and turned to straddle Harry, kissing him again. This time, it was more gentle. It felt like Draco was savouring every movement. "I can't think how I'm going to survive this summer."

"Bad choice of words," Harry said, seriously. "I can't believe what your father did to you. It makes me so angry,"

"He won't do anything like that again."

"He'd better not, or I swear to god, I'm gonna kill him,"

"Easy there, tiger. I'll be fine." Draco looked away from Harry, seeming embarrassed, "And... thank you. I've never been told I was beautiful before."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'll make sure to make a habit of it then. You deserve to know." He smiled at the blush that this earned him, but it didn't really reach his eyes. The clock was ticking. He knew it would be time to leave very soon. "Write to me?"

"Of course I will." Draco paused, looking into Harry's eyes. "I love you, you know. "

"I know. I love you too."