Eighth year was not Draco's best year so far. All of his friends had ditched him in the post-war panic to be on the right side of history, but he was dragged under by his father's ties to Lord Voldemort. Luckily, Headmaster Dumbledore knew this would happen, and made sure that Draco would be able to attend Hogwarts after the war. Even though Draco had tried to kill him. Even though his downfall seemed to be the end of Draco's future. Draco still didn't understand how that man had so much faith in him.

Everyone had given up on Draco. Some parents pulled their children out of school because they didn't agree with letting the traitor back in. "That's Lucius Malfoy's son; one of the remaining Death Eaters! And they've let him back into Hogwarts! It's gone to the dogs! Mad, I say!" The remarks followed him down the streets, through the halls. Draco heard them so often that his own worthlessness was ingrained into his own head like cuts on skin.

It was this, paired with his mind whispering derogatory phrases to drag him down in the absence of anyone else to do it, along with the lonesome pain of having no one to talk to, that caused him to turn to alcohol. Draco knew it wasn't healthy. He knew that his tolerance was not as good as it should be and he knew that he was a mess when he was drunk. But he did it anyway. He figured if he was to die of poisoning it would be well worth it– in fact, better! He'd no longer go through life with every single person he walked by shooting daggers–no, bullets, unforgivable curses–at him with every step. The world would probably sigh a large 'good riddance' before continuing the celebration of the win of the war.

Nevertheless, Draco persisted. He knew that in a few months he'd be leaving Hogwarts and that after that he could snap his wand and pretend he was normal. Pretend he was a muggle, live in their world, maybe even attend a muggle university. It'd be better for everyone.

Until then, Draco kept on his track of drinking himself into an almost-dangerous oblivion every weekend and succeeding in classes during the week. On this particular Saturday, Draco was sitting in his room, alone, as McGonagall had granted him permission to have his own dorm due to the relentless tormenting from his peers. He had a bottle of butterbeer in his hand, not trying to get piss-drunk just yet seeing as it was only two in the afternoon. Draco did, however, want to drink his problems away later in the day, but his stock had run out. It was supposed to have led him until Christmas, where he'd be able to get past the lessened amount of students to steal some from the kitchen stock, but last week he'd had a particularly difficult run in with a few classmates who decided it'd be funny to spell him upside down on a chandelier.

Draco still didn't know who had gotten him off of there unharmed, but that was not on his mind as he plotted how to slip past unnoticed by the likely crowds of people outside on the beautiful Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately for the poor boy, he was a little tipsy due to the butterbeer and the aforementioned low alcohol tolerance, and so decided to just take a little walk through the halls and hope he was inconspicuous.

The only things that really changed within Draco when he was tipsy were his ability to tell if he was making a good decision and his ability to stop himself from saying something personal. So, the two things that could possibly get him on someone's bad side, even more than he already was.

As Draco wandered around the halls he was almost saddened seeing all of the kids having fun like he used to. He passed a few of his fellow Slytherins, his former friends, who shot him glares. Draco almost thought they were going to hiss.

He did notice, though, a few signs pointing to the Potions classroom with the letters "GSA" on them. Draco wasn't sober nor curious enough to stop and think of what they could possibly stand for; he rather continued striding until he was at the door. Without thinking yet again, he pulled at the heavy and familiar door until it swung open, allowing him to step in carefully. Draco noticed that there were people sat around in a large circle, and his eyes circled around them until they landed on the one standing, the one who was obviously the leader, because he always was, wasn't he? The savior himself, a Mister Harry Potter, mid-sentence, mouth open and head facing Draco.

Someone groaned out loud in the classroom, and, surprising Draco completely, Potter turned slightly to face the kid and put a finger to his lips, shutting whomever it was up for sure. He turned back to Draco and gave him a tight smile. "Malfoy, hi. You're here for the Gay-Straight Alliance, I'm assuming?"

Draco was stunned. It was the first time someone his age had talked to him in a relatively nice manner in months. He was stunned because this was Harry Potter, his known sworn enemy, standing up for him, smiling at him, talking to him. He was stunned because the boy he'd been borderline obsessed with for the past months was doing all of those things and not looking the least bit disgusted by himself.

He soon realized that everyone in the room (except for the few people who couldn't even bear facing him) were waiting for him to speak, so he said, "um." Not the best sentence to say to the boy who'd shown him a glimmer of kindness while he was bombarded by hatred all day.

"Well then, are ya gay or somethin'?" A younger kid, maybe year four, said shakily from the back end of the circle. He was definitely scared of Draco, but he spoke a full sentence, which made Draco almost smile.

It was then that Draco noticed that he'd only been doing one thing the entire time he'd been in the classroom–staring at Harry. Harry Potter, the one he was supposed to hate. Harry Potter, the one who defeated the man who was supposedly Draco's boss. Harry Potter, the one who looked stunningly attractive just then, standing in the middle of the Potions classroom where the two had interacted so many times over the past eight years.

It was also then that Draco uttered the few words that earned himself a flushed red, but still equally attractive, Harry Potter. "I am now, it seems."

And maybe he was imagining it, maybe the butterbeer was affecting him more than usual, but Draco swore he saw a smile flash Harry's face. The boy he once hated for no reason walked towards Draco, who was still standing still in front of the door and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Everyone, let's give a warm welcome to Draco Malfoy."

-|-

Draco sat through the meeting in a chair on the outside of the circle. No one wanted him to sit by them, which Draco understood, though it hurt. Harry gave him an apologetic glance and smile, but didn't argue with anyone.

He zoned out for the forty-five minutes he was in there, but what he did take in was every single move Harry made. It wasn't anything new for him to be watching Harry Potter. Ever since the war, ever since Harry Potter had saved his life numerous times, Draco had been enthralled. Part of the reason he had accepted term at Hogwarts for yet another year was so he'd be able to question Harry on why he'd helped Draco, but he wasn't able to do that because of how disgusted everyone was by him.

As Draco made his way out of the Potions classroom ridden with memories, one of the last ones to leave, he heard someone call his name from inside the class. Assuming it was simply someone wanting to play a trick on him, he began walking faster, turning corners whenever he could to get away from the likely relentlessness of the prankster.

Sure enough, he heard the voice continuing to call his name, obviously following him. Draco took the most turns until it was obvious where his subconscious was leading him–the astronomy tower. Once he arrived, he walked immediately to the side, looking out and over the trees and into towns far away. This tower had been Draco's safe space for years, and it helped now that no one was ever that into tormenting him lately to climb up all of those stairs.

He'd been there only a few minutes when a voice made him spin around. "Pretty view, isn't it?" Draco immediately matched the voice to the person, and of course, of course, it was Harry Potter. Perfect Potter perching by the stairwell, perfect hair blown perfectly by the wind.

Ignoring the calm statement Harry had made, Draco moved away from the side towards the boy. Also ignoring the yelling Draco's insides were doing at him to stop, to not ruin the only good thing he had going for him in his life, he grabbed onto Harry's perfectly ironed tie and was momentarily surprised to find that he was still a few inches taller than the boy. He then went off on Harry.

"What game do you think you're playing here, pretty boy? You got a bet with Weasley and Granger to see who can make my life worse? Acting nice, acting like you... Like you like me?! Please. You must know that I'm aware by now that no one here likes me anymore," he growled, gripping Harry's tie as tight as possible and pressing him further against the wall behind him. "You could've just done the world a favor back in the war and left me to die. Would've made your life easier, mine too." Draco's words became more emotional after the truthfulness of his last statement set in. "So why'd you do it, Harry? Why have you been nothing but nice to me when I've been nothing less than..." He paused. He paused to look down, to evaluate why he was here holding a boy by his tie and yelling at him. He paused, and then said, so quietly he could barely hear himself, "nothing less than insufferable."

After a few seconds of silence allowing Draco to wonder more why he was doing what he was doing, why he was doing anything, Harry spoke. "You want to know why I'm nice to you?"

Draco nodded, letting go of his tie slightly as the thought that he could be hurting Harry slid into his head.

"I'm nice to you because of that," Harry motioned to Draco's loosened grip. "Because even though you know the rest of the world hates you, even though you know you'll never change their minds about you, you still know you're innocent. You're self-aware, and it's obvious you put up this front that you're all tough and you don't care who says what about you, but it's clear that it hurts you. It gets in your head. You know, somewhere deep inside, you know that you're still a good person. And that is why I'm nice to you." Harry said, surprising both himself and Draco.

Draco turned away, unable to face the boy who'd just hit all of his issues head on. He walked back to the side of the tower, staring back into the distance. He assumed Harry would leave then, leave and never talk to Draco again.

But he didn't, and he kept talking. "I'm nice to you, Draco, for the same reason Dumbledore made sure you were allowed back for eighth year."

Draco turned his head to face Harry, who'd approached where he was standing, and asked softly, "how did you know about that?"

"I figured it out. There's no way McGonagall would've let you back in, I know her well enough to know that. Dumbledore made sure, even after he died, that you were let back in this year because he saw that you aren't your father, and I do too. Sure, you kind of acted like him a lot for the past years. But it's so clear that he's not all you want to be labeled under. Everyone here hates you because they can't see past the man who supported Voldemort wholeheartedly, and they force him onto you even though you didn't want to take the Dark Mark." Harry cut himself off then, before speaking again. "I'm nice to you because, contrary to your belief, I do like you, Draco Malfoy. I happen to be fully infatuated by you, for some reason."

Draco, up until this point, had been standing stick still, facing the trees and the towns and the world. After Harry finished speaking, Draco turned to face the boy. He stared at Harry's face for what seemed like hours, searching for any sign of lies from his previous statements. Once he thought he had found none, he sighed and faced the trees again.

"Have you ever noticed that I look outside quite a lot?" When Harry nodded, he continued. "Do you know why?" Draco didn't wait for an answer before going on this time. "I look outside because it's like an escape. I can get away from the hatred of everyone, away from my own hatred towards myself. Everyone outside is living their own lives, facing their own terrors and issues. It's like I'm in love with the idea of... Of not being myself. Of having normal problems, like whether or not Harry Potter liked me back, like what grade I was going to get on my Charms quiz, like if Slytherin would win the next Quidditch game. I wish I was someone else. Someone who had normal parents, not murderous, plotting parents. I don't even care if I was a mudbl– A muggle born. It's that extreme. I hate myself. I hate myself so much for things my parents did. I hate myself so much that if someone stood in front of me right now and threatened to kill me, I'd tell them to use the killing curse and just get it over with. I'm really not... I'm not okay, Harry. I'm not okay." Draco choked back a sob and blinked hard to keep the tears that were about to spill out away. "I'm not okay but all I want is to be okay, to be a normal teenager who doesn't have to panic when someone calls their name. I'm not okay and I don't know if I'm ever going to be okay again. God, I'm so messed up. I hate myself so much. So so so s–"

Harry cut off Draco's self-hatred by pulling the other boy to face him and wrapping his arms around Draco's waist. The tears spilled down Draco's face and the sobs in his throat came out loudly. He hadn't been hugged in months. He hadn't talked as much as he had just talked in months. He hadn't cried in years.

The sobs leaving Draco's mouth broke Harry's heart. The boy in front of him was not the strong boy he had met in first year, the one who offered his hand and his friendship. He wasn't the unafraid boy who had set a snake on him in second year, nor the one who had marched confidently at a Hippogriff in third year. He was broken and in pieces, and he knew it.

But Draco wanted to get better. He wanted friends, he wanted to live his life as he should be at eighteen, he wanted to be normal. And Harry was set on getting him there.