Harry's POV

Following Draco through a hallway in the middle of the night, with only the dim light of his wand to stop me breaking my nose on the stone floor was about as good an idea as it sounded.

"Could you walk any louder Potter? I don't think the mermaids can quite hear you," came the biting whisper from a step or two in-front of me.

"It's not so easy trying not to step on you." I replied, using what little light there was to avoid Malfoy's heels. He walked quickly and with purpose, making it difficult for me to keep up without bumping him.

It didn't help that there was a fog over my brain. That seemed to happen sometimes after nightmares. It was like a patchy blanket. Sometimes I could think clearly, sometimes my thoughts were slow and hard to piece together. I was glad not to be the one leading us to wherever Malfoy had decided was worth going to.

Draco whisked around another corner, his wand flickering and a hissed 'shhh' all I was aware of as he led the way through hallway after hallway.

He stopped at the edge of the courtyard, looking all directions like a meerkat guarding its group, and then headed across diagonally, and round another confusing set of corners. An owl hooted from somewhere nearby.

I was still reeling from the dream I'd had. It wasn't the worst I'd been through, but it had still been painful. Waking up to Malfoy leaning over me had pulled me out of my stupor almost immediately, but even he couldn't prevent the torment of images that replayed on a loop in my head right now.

There were so many memories laced into the walls of Hogwarts - just as many good as bad. I ran my hand along the wall as we continued, feeling each brick like it was a patch of my own skin.

Just as we made to turn another corner, I became aware of the muttering of voices nearby, and suddenly Draco jumped back, pressing himself and me against the wall; his back against my chest.

Reflexively, I moved my arms to either side of his waist, to stop him falling backwards into me, holding him steady. I felt the breath catch in his throat, from how close we'd come to running into the two prefects who were now walking past us.

They had been coming up the corridor to our right, speaking quietly so we'd been unaware of their presence till they were right next to us.

I could smell the apple-scented shampoo Draco wore, mixed with the strong smell of expensive wine, feel the curve of his hips under my hands. It would've been so easy to reach forwards and run my hand along his jaw, down his neck. What the fuck? I shook the thought from my mind. It didn't mean anything. I was tired. That's what it was.

"Good to go?" I asked after the prefects disappeared out of sight, whispering the words next to his ear. I had to tilt my head up slightly to reach.

"Yeah...yes. They're away." He sounded like he was out of breath. Had he really been that scared by the prefects? I hadn't expected Draco to be so...jumpy. "Come on." He pulled my hand from his waist and continued through the castle. Electricity shot up my arm at his touch, shivering through my body as once again we careened away.

What seemed like an age later, we came out onto a balcony at the opposite end of the castle, and Draco dimmed his wand. He moved away to sit on a worse-for-wear couch next to the railing, and leaned his head back to look at the stars way above.

"Where are we?" I asked, looking out over the glittering lake and the patchwork of stars.

"An unused astronomy tower, I think. It's a place I discovered quite by accident, some time in the last two years. I've yet to see another person up here. I call it Malfoy Tower." He replied, that smug grin back on his face.

"Malfoy Tower. Very creative of you." I scoffed.

"You are very welcome to leave, if you don't approve." He snarked, shooting me a glare.

"Fine, Fine. I'll be nice."

"Oh 'nice'? I wouldn't have thought you capable."

"You don't make it very easy."

"And you don't give me any reason to." He rolled his shoulders back and pulled his robe about himself, cuddling into the couch.

I sat across from him, with my back to the tower. From the floor, I could see through the railing in each direction. The grass, the lake, the quidditch pitch, all of them framed in moonlight and a star-soaked sky. It was beautiful and it was quiet. I could see why Malfoy brought me here, after what he'd seen. I swallowed at the thought.

"Guess I should thank you, for helping me with that...that nightmare." I said, realising I'd not actually acknowledged what he'd done for me. Who would've thought Malfoy had a helpful bone in his body?

"You guess you should thank me? Potter, at least be sincere with your apologies, Merlin's beard." He rolled his eyes, in the same movement rolling his head around to stare right at me with those molten depths.

I smirked. "Thank you, for bringing me back from it."

He regarded me coolly for a beat or two, and then replied, "You would have done the same for me, Potter. I've been there before. I know what it's like...to relive things you ought never to have been through." He spoke as if each word was being pulled from his mouth outwith his own will.

I got the feeling that Malfoy understood more than he was letting on. I knew he had nightmares, and I knew he'd had a terrible time over the course of the war, but did he experience the same things as I did? Was this a chance to see what was hidden underneath his pristine guise?

"Still, thank you. You make a good friend."

He scoffed, "Please, good? I am an excellent friend, Potter. You should be grateful I lowered myself to the unappetising standards of your friendship circle." And once again, he closed himself off. I decided not to press further.

"Why have you brought me here?"

Malfoy looked around the balcony, at the lake, at the stars. "It is a place I come to when I really cannot sleep, or have had an especially shit day. I figure it is a place to bring a friend, should they require the same sense of peace." He spoke calmly, but there was some nervousness in the way he picked at the arm of the couch.

"It's really quiet." I replied.

He nodded. "Oddly enough yes, in the early hours of the morning not many find themselves awake in the castle."

I could sense the air of sarcasm, but there was an unusual lack of sneer in his words. It was a nice look on him.

"Do you come here a lot?" I needed to keep talking. I could feel the scathing edges of the dream-images picking at my consciousness. The best thing for it was to ignore them, to keep myself distracted, and hope that they'd leave me alone for now.

"Less than I used to. I first discovered this place in 5th year."

"How'd you end up finding it?"

Draco looked over at me, his jaw set, eyebrows knitted together. It was like he was trying to figure me out. Screams echoed like nails on a chalkboard in my ears. I needed him to keep talking, needed some kind of distraction before I slipped into that trance-like state that often followed my worst nightmares. It was easier to fight when I was helping people.

Not the worst method of dealing with an issue like that, I suppose. It stopped me having to confront the images. Anything to stop me having to face them.

He flipped a coin in whatever silent game he was playing in his mind, and Draco began to speak. "It was late one night, and I had a lot to think about. The stairs took me here. It seemed as good a place as any to..."

"To breathe?" I knew the feeling well. People could feel like a cage, sometimes. Walls, too. Maybe it was the castle walls specifically? I wasn't really sure. But I did know how he felt.

Something lightened in Malfoy's gaze at my interjection. "Yes. Precisely that." He agreed.

"And with Voldemort at the Manor, can't have been many places to escape to." It was a risky thing to say, and I saw him flinch as if struck at the sound of the murderer's name.

It had lost all meaning to me by that point, really. The Dark Lord. The Saviour. Voldemort. Tom. They were all the same, and they were all just as evil as the rest.

"It...wasn't, no. Quite difficult to escape such a presence in your own home, but he was not the forefront of my worries."

I barked a laugh at that. "You having a laugh? What could be than that pasty skinhead?" Voldemort wasn't the worst threat to Malfoy? Voldemort who lived with him? That couldn't be right at all - not unless I'd badly misjudged the server-master dynamic the Malfoys had with their house elves.

"You will not understand, Potter. There's a lot of weight to be carried in a name like mine. Not all of us are lucky enough to be born to the more...simplistic... of pure blood families." There was that sneer again, the look of disdain that almost seemed to dare me to rise to the challenge he was posing.

With Malfoy, I was never going to pass up a challenge.

"What do you mean weight?" I matched his ashen stare.

"There are a lot of extreme expectations, thresholds, tests of loyalty that must be up kept in order to preserve the name." He explained.

I almost laughed. Lucius Malfoy, Head of the Malfoy Throne, was a notorious, murdering, death eater. He was in prison, and probably would be for the rest of his life. What exactly couldn't as 'preserving the name', if something like that didn't decrease expectations?

That was something I was at least glad about; I hadn't been born into a psycho cult-following family. Sure, my childhood hadn't been great, but there hadn't been any pressure on me - it wasn't really like Vernon or Petunia looked at me long enough to impose any.

"That must've been hard to grow up with." I replied. I suppose I'd not really thought much about what Draco's home life must've been like. I didn't really know anything about him, or why he was the way he was. Maybe it wasn't just that he was a complete arse, maybe he really did have a reason for acting that way.

He nodded slowly, right hand running circles over his left wrist now. "It was, but it was something I came to terms with. Malfoys are strong, Malfoys do not crack. It was part of the ideology. But..." he paused, breathed quietly for a few seconds. Was it just me, or were Draco's eyes glistening? Maybe I'd went too far in distracting myself. Should I stop him revealing anything further?

It seemed like stuff he needed to talk about. Talking was good.

I spoke to my godfathers when I had something on my mind. It was helpful, put things in perspective. There were some things I couldn't talk to them about - like the war, but then I didn't want to talk to anyone about that when it was still so fresh - but most of the time they were great confidantes. I had Ron and Hermione, too. Maybe Draco didn't have that kind of system?

How did he make it through the aftermath of the war without it?

"Since my fa...since Lucius was sent to Azkaban, it has not really felt as powerful, and I do not want to be held by that. I...I can't be held by it. I am known only for my name, and I am nothing without it. I do not know who I am if not a Malfoy. It's...all I've ever been, and now it's a slur, at best." His voice wobbled as he spoke, though not a single tear left his eyes.

I wondered if that was part of the training. Was crying so bad, really? It made me dislike Lucius all the more. I could see Draco trying to keep himself together, fighting to hold the emotion in check. He seemed to be winning, but did that mean shutting down again?

I wanted to move closer to him, but I got the feeling he'd resent that. If Draco was trying to rein in his emotions, I wasn't going to help stop him closing up by pushing myself up against him.

"Draco...Draco look at me." He looked up, tear-filled eyes shakily matching my own, "You are so much more than a name. You're not just 'Malfoy', you're Draco Malfoy. Draco, one of the smartest people in our year. Draco, the potions natural. Draco, the master quidditch player. Draco, the tea connoisseur. The name might be a bonus, but it's not who you are. Draco is who you are, and that's someone you should be proud to be all in itself."

He looked at me, stunned. A single tear traced its way down his left cheek. "Am I really all that, Potter? Perhaps you should start a fan club, indulge in your newfound idolisation." It was as close to a thanks as I could've hoped to get from him, proven by the soft smile that accompanied his words.

"Maybe I will, Draco. I'll make sure the badge says 'Draco stinks' to really show my appreciation."

"Copying my ideas? You really must be a fan of my work. I have plenty more Potter related insults, though it would take me the better part of a decade to go through everything wrong with those Merlin-awful glasses alone." He sneered.

And just like that, we were off in another cascade of insults, each worse than the last.

I decided then that I would never, ever refer to Draco as Malfoy again.
It was a silent promise I was determined I would keep.