Draco stretched. The sheets rumpled and caught on yesterdays wrinkled clothes. He felt, still tired, but more manageably so. Less like he was going to start seeing illusory ghosts and hearing whispers and more like he just needed a day or two's rest.

There was a sigh from the chair set beside Draco's bed, a chair Harry Potter had apparently slept the entire night in. Draco held himself still, peeking out from under his eyelashes as Potter moved slowly, waking up with every twinging pulling muscle he moved.

Potter muffled a groan in the back of his throat as he sat forward, tilting his head and rubbing his neck with a grimace. His glasses were hopelessly smudged with fingerprints, and his hair was loose, looking to be more tangles than curls. Draco's hands twitched to comb his fingers through that black hair until it was smooth and soft again.

But that was a foolish thought that he had no interest in entertaining.

"That's what you get for sleeping in a chair," Draco said.

Potter jumped in surprise and shot him a glare.

Draco smirked.

"Shut up," Potter muttered, looking away.

"You should have transfigured it into a cot, or slept on the couch," Draco said, and realising what he was implying, added hurriedly, "Or left. I never said you could stay."

"There's no way-" Potter yawned, dragging both his hands through his hair, sweeping it back for a second before it fell back around his face, "-I was gonna leave you when you're so weak."

"I'm not weak," Draco said.

Potter rolled his eyes.

"I'm not," Draco hissed and pushed himself up.

"Are you blind? Cause I'm not," Potter said, "and right now you are, Malfoy. Are you really so proud you'd rather die than ask for help? Because that worked so well in the past."

Potter's head smacked back into the chair with a satisfying thump as Draco hit him with his pillow as hard as he could. He threw back his bedsheets as Potter was sputtering and headed down the stairs. He desperately wanted to take a bath, but there were more important things to do first. He was starving.

"Where are you going!?" Potter shouted after him.

Draco ignored him, beelining to the table where the house elves had helpfully delivered food enough for both of them. He sat on the edge of the couch and grabbed a scone breaking it in half with his hands. He smeared it with butter and so much jam it dripped from the sides and Draco had to lick it from his fingers. He glanced up after finishing the first scone to see Potter staring at him wide-eyed and grabbed another scone, eating it as quickly as the first.

Potter cleared his throat and looked down at his feet.

"Hypocrite" Draco said between bites.

"What?" Potter's head jerked up.

"About asking for help. You didn't."

Potter narrowed his eyes, "I couldn't. I didn't know who to trust and those that I could, they were- they were risking themselves enough as it was."

Draco rolled his eyes with as much disdain as he could and took the last scone, "So who was I supposed to trust again? My death eater father? Or maybe my death eater aunt? Or maybe one of the other death eaters living in my house? One of those?"

Potter sighed and sat on the other end of the couch, "There has to be someone you trust other than- there's your mother."

Draco barely spared Potter a glance before looking back at his plate, focusing on eating.

"The more people we can find who you trust, the better, that's what Margery said."

"Who?" Draco asked.

"Margery. The veela who talked to us yesterday," Potter said. He absently searched his pockets and took out a tiny red book that he resized and held up triumphantly, "She gave you this."

"At the time I was a bit busy thinking I was going to die," Draco said flatly.

"She wasn't going to hurt you," Potter said.

Draco felt unexpectedly hurt, "You don't know."

"She helped, she told you all-"

Draco hit the table so hard the dishes clattered, "You don't know how it felt! Don't act like you know what I- I'm-!" he glared furiously at his fist, lips pressed together in a tight line as he fought the ache in his eyes.

Potter was silent until Draco unclenched his hand and picked up his fork again.

"Erm, that's- right," Potter said pointlessly.

Draco ignored him.

"So, erm, getting back to the-" Potter cleared his throat, "You trust your mother and, and your friends-?"

"No and no," Draco said sullenly.

Potter frowned at him, "Your mother lied to Voldemort for you, she bound Snape to an unbreakable vow to help you."

Draco only just managed to keep from emptying the pitcher of pumpkin juice over Potter's head. He filled his glass instead and drank it quickly

"Malfoy. If we can't find someone you trust you're going to get weaker and-"

Draco slammed his glass back down.

Potter stared at him silently then settled back into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What?" Draco hissed.

"I'm not leaving, chickadee," Potter said.

Draco stiffened, his hand going to his pocket and then his other and freezing in alarm.

"Looking for this?" Potter said, drawing just the handle of Draco's wand from his sleeve before pushing it back inside.

"Give me-"

"No," Potter said, "One, you're being a fucking idiot, and two, you probably shouldn't be doing any sort of magic for a while."

"I'm going to kill you," Draco said, his voice low.

Potter rolled his eyes, "Hurt me, yeah maybe, but you don't have it in you for more than that. You're going to have to do a lot worse than be a prick to chase me off."

Draco tightened his grip on his fork and considered his options: stab Potter in the hand or thigh?

"We get through this, and then everything will go back to normal," Potter said with such conviction it made Draco's stomach ache with sudden nausea.

Draco stared at him, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, "...for you maybe. It's never going to-"

Potter's brow furrowed in confusion but Draco didn't wait to hear what sort of moronic drivel would come out of his mouth next. He threw the fork on the table and stood, walking around the back of the couch, and hurried upstairs. The bathroom door didn't have a lock, but it appeared Potter had learned not to barge into bathrooms where he was unwelcome.

Draco turned on the taps of the large clawfoot bathtub, throwing his clothes onto the floor where he stood and lowering himself into the hot water with a shudder. He slid down until the water lapped around his chin and stared at his feet poking above the water. There was a small scar near his big toe where he had cut his foot on a nail trying slip through a fence on the edge of the manor lands when he was seven. He had hidden it from his mother so he wouldn't get scolded and ended up with a scar to show for it.
He was still him. He had that if nothing else.

-

Harry could hear the water turn on above him and sighed, shifting over on the couch. Malfoy had left him half the eggs and toast and a single piece of bacon. Harry grabbed Hermione's notebook from the floor and flipped to the back page, eating his rather paltry breakfast as he started a list of everyone Malfoy might trust. It was a short list. And if Malfoy wasn't lying about not trusting his mother, it wasn't a list Harry had much faith in.

When the list was finished, Harry turned back to the front of the notebook, finding where the ink was still filling in along with Hermione's notes, to see what he was missing in charms. He did his best to try and keep up with the notes, but it was a lecture day with no practical work, and his stupid bloody imagination kept going back to Malfoy and his tongue catching strawberry jam from his fingers, pink and wet-

Harry shook his head and grabbed another book at random, flipping it open and started reading. He read about the little mermaid, who fell in love with a human man. She traded her voice for a pair of legs and a warning, or perhaps a curse, that she would die if she ever went back to the ocean. She tried to win him over, but when he chooses another, she went back to the sea and turned into seafoam as soon as the water touched her skin.

Harry put the book aside when he heard the floor overhead creaking and grabbed his list. But Malfoy didn't come back down. Harry went upstairs and found Malfoy curled up back in bed.

"I thought you left," Malfoy said.

"I didn't, we need to figure out who you trust," Harry said impatiently, "Your parents?"

"No," Malfoy said flatly.

"What about your friends, Parkinson, Zabini, uh... Nott?"

"I said no," Malfoy muttered, "now fuck off."

Harry sighed, "What about... Goyle?"

Malfoy spared him a brief look of utter contempt and then rolled onto his side, away from Harry, "There's no one."

Harry shifted his weight uneasily, "...there's me."

Malfoy shoulder twitched like a barely suppressed flinch, and he curled in closer to the mattress. "I don't want..." His voice was threaded with cracks, breaking on his words, "...go martyr yourself somewhere else."

-

Harry went back down to the stairs, adding wood the fire and then stood there. He was tired of Malfoy's everything- the utter bullshit of it all, but he wasn't- he couldn't leave if he was the only thing between Malfoy and being forced to the hospital.

He decided to wait until lunch so Malfoy could sleep a little longer when he heard the hatch open behind him and spun around.

"Calm yourself, Harry," McGonagall said, she floated up the last few steps and slipped off an old racing broom.

"Professor," Harry said, putting his wand away a bit sheepishly.

"If anyone is going to be surprised in this situation, it's me. I wasn't expecting anyone but Mr Malfoy up here," McGonagall said, leaning the broom against the wall.

"Malfoy was- erm, he needs someone around to... watch his back, or he can't sleep," Harry said, feeling unexpectedly flushed and speaking a little too fast.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"The uh, veela teacher, Margery said it was like instinct," Harry said, "So I was going to stay over, during the nights to- to make sure he could sleep."

Both of McGonagall's eyebrows were raised.

Harry felt slightly bewildered himself, he hadn't known he'd decided such a thing, but here apparently he had.

"I'm sure there would be someone willing to do such a thing who isn't studying for their NEWT's at the moment," McGonagall said.

"No!" Harry blurted, his face growing hotter by the moment, "It has to be me. It- It's fine."

"Hm." McGonagall pursed her lips into a thin line, "...Is he upstairs?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Draco Malfoy," McGonagall said, sounding ever so slightly amused.

"Yeah, he is," Harry said awkwardly and managed to wait until McGonagall was out of sight before he collapsed onto the couch in utter embarrassment.

-

Draco had felt McGonagall coming up the tower and sat up when she finished talking with Potter, rubbing his eyes and face, and trying not to yawn.

"I apologise for disturbing you," McGonagall said, walking over to his bed, "And I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for so long. The Ministry expected you to be in France yesterday and were especially unhelpful when I went back to inform them you weren't going to be leaving after all."

"They were probably looking forward to getting rid of me," Draco said, "and you ruined their fun."

"They aren't meant to be having fun or engaging in petty squabbles. They are meant to be doing their jobs," McGonagall said with the severely disappointed tone that regularly put first years on the verge of tears. She glanced around the small room and then sat down on the edge of the chair, "New plans need making. Harry said you spoke to the... more agreeable teacher from Beauxbaton."

Draco nodded.

"Did you find out anything helpful? Harry said that you needed someone to watch you so you could sleep," McGonagall said.

Draco blinked. He had missed some of what the veela said, especially in the beginning, but it was a bit more complicated than that. Draco explained what he remembered, about needing someone he trusted to stay by his side and how if he couldn't find someone like that his next best choice would be a magically induced coma.

McGonagall nodded along as he spoke, easing herself back into the chair, "...I see. That makes things both simpler, and more complicated seeing as your parents and your friends are on the mainland." She sighed, "Perhaps I was too hasty in going to Ministry. But I was afraid that they would... overreact if they thought you had left and were in fact still here..."

Draco shook his head, "It's not-"

McGonagall raised her eyebrows with a questioning, "Hm?"

"...I don't trust any of them," Draco said quietly. He looked down at his hands, threading his fingers together into a tangle.

McGonagall frowned slightly, "I seem to recall you having a rather large friend group while at school."

"They're not that kind of friend," Draco said, "you couldn't get too close because then they could use that to manipulate you."

"That seems exceptionally cynical. Surely not all of them felt that way."

Draco shrugged, "It's- My father always said- I don't know. I just assumed, and I never got close enough to find out."

"What about your parents? You were always close to them," McGonagall said.

Draco smiled bitterly at the sheets, "Father chose power over us, and Mother... she always chooses him. It wasn't until the end that-" the words caught in his throat, "-she was my mother, and she let it- we could've run away, so many times..."

McGonagall leaned forward, putting her hand on the edge of the bed like she meant to pat his hand reassuringly but changed her mind at the last moment, "I understand. You don't have to dredge up any more painful memories."

Draco nodded.

"Then Harry misunderstand what you needed," McGonagall said.

Draco hesitated, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment, "...he- he didn't."

McGonagall was quiet for a few seconds, "You trust him?"

Draco managed a faint nod.

"But... he very nearly killed you," McGonagall said, "and he disfigured you, to a certain extent, with the scarring."

Draco's breath caught in his throat, "You knew?"

"I have tea with Poppy in the infirmary on occasion, and I happened to do so the night the incident happened." McGonagall frowned deeply, "I find it hard to believe that you would trust Harry after that."

"He pulled me from the fire during the battle... he- he could have left me, it- he could have died trying to save me, and he did it anyway," Draco shrugged helplessly, "I just- I know that he would save me because I think he'd try to save anyone. He tried to get the dark lord to- it's stupid. How can one person be so stupid?"

McGonagall sighed, "I prefer the term overly generous, myself."

Draco was fairly certain they were the same thing.

"Do you trust me?"

Draco blinked in surprise, "Professor?"

McGonagall waited for his response.

"...I trust you, just... not with my life," Draco said honestly.

McGonagall nodded, "So. How do you want to proceed?"

"How- me?" Draco said.

"Yes," McGonagall said, "I know you don't have a lot of options right now, but they are yours to make. There is Harry. And while you don't trust me, I would be willing to try and earn that trust or perhaps forge some sort of temporary binding contract for the duration of your change. I feel fairly certain, for all her faults, your mother would do the same. And, of course, there is the hospital wing; I trust Poppy to be quite adept enough to look after you if a medical intervention were necessary."

"I don't want Potter's help," Draco said.

"Then we can-"

"I don't want him saving me," Draco said, "I don't want to owe him anything-"

"Perhaps-"

"My debts are enough already without- without adding to them," Draco said.

McGonagall held up a hand for him to stop, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Yes, yes, I see."

"You do?" Draco said.

"Yes, now let me see... how would Severus handle this...Oh, course," McGonagall said, "Harry still intends to become an auror once he graduates but his performance so far this year has been... well, he will need a lot of help to get all O's at this rate."

She nodded to herself and went on, "Harry would be just...loitering about, while you could be responsible for his entire future. It would not be a great leap to say he would owe you in such a situation."

Draco laughed despite himself, "You make a terrible Slytherin."

McGonagall smiled slightly, "It's not exactly my natural inclination. So, if you are amenable, I think Harry should come here after dinner, and the two of you can keep up on your schoolwork together. If it doesn't work out, for any reason, we can try something else."

"...okay."

"Any reason," McGonagall said firmly.

Draco nodded.

McGonagall stood up, straightening her robes, "I shall have a cot set up for Harry-"

"Downstairs," Draco said, "The desk could go up here so there would be room behind the couch."

"Yes?"

"I just want space for myself," Draco said.

"That's perfectly reasonable. Is there anything else I can do for you?" McGonagall asked.

"More food," Draco said immediately, "What the elves send now isn't enough."

"You are a growing boy," McGonagall said, trying not to smile.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'll have the house elves double your portions, will that be adequate?" McGonagall said.

 "Yes."

"Is that all?" McGonagall asked.

Draco nodded, dropping back into his pillow.

McGonagall started back down the stairs.

"Thank you," Draco said quietly.

McGonagall glanced back, "You're quite welcome, Draco."