'Dear Harry,

It's been so good to hear from you! I can't believe you're working with Malfoy. You two have been bonded together, and assigned to manage the Dueling Club? That must be hell! I'm doing well, and Hermione sends her love. I hope you can come visit for the holidays. Try not to get into too much trouble, will you?

Your friend,
Ronald Weasley'

  ~△⃒⃘~

Harry sat at breakfast one Wednesday morning in November reading a letter that his best friend had sent to him. It had been a little over a month since he'd last heard from Ron, so he found it nice to know that he and Hermione were well. He spooned oatmeal into his mouth, and took a swig of orange juice.

To his right, Draco was reading the Daily Prophet, a solemn look on his face, and Harry frowned as he noticed the blond's knuckles turning an even more ghostly shade of white. At the top of the page that he'd been reading, the headline read:

'Aurors Find and Capture Death Eater's:
The Zabini's'

He wanted to reach out and comfort Draco, as he knew how close he'd been to the Zabini family, but with as many eyes on them as there was, he didn't think physical contact would be the best idea for their reputations right now; the reputation of two men who were totally not in love with each other. And so, he took another bite of his oatmeal, and shifted in his seat so he couldn't see the blond, and wouldn't feel as guilty.

Breakfast ended not long after, and then it was time for the students to head to their first classes, meaning that the two youngest professors would no longer have to suffer in the same domain as the other for the time being.

Snow had begun to fall as winter quickly approached, and Draco decided that today would be the day he'd take his students outside to collect some roots that could only be harvested once the ground had frozen solid. As he looked out the window, he saw that the ground already looked pretty thick, and he figured by the time his group of fifth years came around, the temperature would've dropped further, and conditions would be perfect.

Harry taught a lesson on Winter Wind Spirits with a frown etched onto his lips. He was hopelessly curious as to how the Potions professor was holding up, knowing his best friend was locked away and being held by Dementors until further notice.

But maybe Blaise would be strong. Maybe he'd fight like Sirius, and hold onto his sanity no matter how often the Dementors plagued his mind with dread. Harry grasped to this idea firmly, for Draco's sake if nothing else.

  ~△⃒⃘~

At Draco's fourth and final class of the day - the fifth year Gryffindors - he found that the ground outside had settled and hardened perfectly, and that meant that it was the ideal time for the students to pick the Windy Winter Roots from
under one of the few old oak trees beside the Black Lake. So, he and his students bundled up and headed outside.

He cast a simple warming charm on his robes, hoping to preserve as much heat as he could, as these insolent Gryffindors would no doubt take a long time to figure out how to extract the roots from the ground without cracking the surface.

After twenty minutes of repeatedly explaining to the students how to keep the earth intact, the kids dressed in red and gold colors got to work, and Draco stood back, arms crossed, supervising. Lost to his thoughts, he felt himself slipping away to the summer, when he'd last seen his best friend:

It had been a night in early August when he'd decided to go out for a few drinks with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. They'd met at the Leaky Cauldron in London, and though they chatted lightheartedly, a darkened mood still clouded the atmosphere.

"I fear this'll be the last time you'll be seeing me for a while." Blaise spoke up at one point, long after the reminiscing of their years at Hogwarts ended. The two boys quieted a bit, and faced the handsome, darker man sadly.

"What do you mean?" Theo asked, a frown on his face as he looked to Draco nervously. Blaise's eyes darted around the room, and the three of them leaned their heads closer together in order for there to be less of a chance to be heard. He took out his wand, and cast a circle around them, muttering a "Muffliato" to ensure complete privacy.

"The Aurors are looking for my family. It was dangerous for me to come here even tonight. I don't know how you got out of all this, Malfoy, but I know I won't get off so easily. As my family is heading away, I must too. Hopefully this isn't a permanent goodbye."

But it was a permanent goodbye, at least Draco knew that now. He'd been naive to believe the Zabini family could stay hidden for long, as Blaise's mother had kind of built herself a reputation for getting around.

When Blaise had mentioned his family being hunted, Draco had fallen silent. He'd never responded, and the young wizard whisked into the wind soon after, and then Theo left too. Instead of speaking to Zabini, Draco had chosen to drink. He'd chosen to numb himself, and put off the inevitable.

There was no more putting this off, however. It was so very real, and it left him devastated. His best friend was as good as dead, and for what? He'd never killed anybody! Sure his mother was a bit of a whore, and the family name itself had been associated with dark things, but that didn't mean Blaise Zabini was in the wrong for any of this.

Draco didn't have long to dwell on this, however, as he soon heard shouting and raucous voices coming from not far off over the hills. He winced, and turned to find his own students struggling to grab at the roots that had already started to submerge themselves back into the earth at the disruption. As he glanced back at the hills, he watched none other than the curly haired Defense professor with ridiculous glasses leading his students to the edge of the Lake.

The Gryffindor fifth years stopped coaxing the roots from the earth, and stood to watch as the blond Potions professor placed his hands on his hips and glared at Harry Potter.

"And what do you think you and your little third years are doing, coming down here and disrupting my teaching?" Draco asked, frowning at the green eyed wizard.

Harry glanced behind the blond, and waved once he saw which house colors were being sported on the students. A few muttered "hello" towards the professor, but Draco sent them glares, silencing them effectively. When the other professor looked back at him, a goofy grin was prominent on his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had total control over what class teaches where on any given day." He claimed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Today's the first day of frozen ground, and the Windy Winter Roots are in full bloom; they were until you came barging in with your ridiculously noisy class.

"Really? Today's also the first day that Winter Wind Spirits are migrating back to Hogwarts for the season. I wanted to show the class the way they moved in clusters: like snowflakes, almost." Harry chirped, gesturing to the light snowfall that had begun to take place. As Draco looked at it more closely, however, he found that translucent almost-humanoid figures were dancing through the air, twisting their bodies and dropping snowflakes from their sleek outfits as they dropped to the ground, and rose back up in drifts. It really was rather fascinating to watch.

"Yes, well, it seems today is a first for a lot of things." The young Malfoy muttered, still watching the spirits dance elegantly.

  ~△⃒⃘~

Much later that night, once the final meal had ended and students were set up in their dormitories playing games of Exploding Snap or catching up on homework before break, Harry set to work on grading a few essays he still had yet to finish up.

Draco had turned off the lights long ago, and lied in his bed with his posters closed tight, and the only light that could be seen was Harry's Lumos charm he'd casted to finish up.

Around two in the morning, just when Harry feared he couldn't stay awake another minute, he heard a sniffing sound from inside the Slytherin's bed. He froze in settling himself into the covers, and glanced towards the four poster bed, extinguishing the light from his wand. He tried not to breathe, wanting to know if he'd heard correct, and that Draco Malfoy was indeed crying.

He was crying.

The sounds of sorrow grew a tad bit louder after a moment, and Harry could've sworn he heard the blond moan solemnly. His heart clenched, and he wanted once more to comfort the professor, but he didn't think he'd be welcome.

Slowly, he climbed from his bed and padded across the floor as quietly as he could. He paused at the posters, alarmed at what he might, or might not see on the other side. Drawing the curtains back, he was met by darkness, and quiet sniffles.

"Malfoy?" He asked, reaching out to see where the blond was located on the bed.

"What do you want, Potter?" The Slytherin seethed, voice raw, though words remained venomous. "What could you possibly want now?"

"I want to know if you're okay."

"Does it sound like I'm okay, you daft, insolent buffoon of a half-blood savior?" Draco clutched onto Harry's arm, causing the green eyed boy to lose balance and topple onto what he thought must've been the blond's leg.

"No, but I didn't want to come out and say that you sound like Moaning Myrtle. What's wrong? Is it your mother?" Harry very well knew it wasn't Draco's mother, but the idea seemed absolutely preposterous to let the Potions professor know he'd been snooping on his reading material at breakfast.

"My mother's fine." Draco snapped.

"Well, then what is it?"

There was silence, and Harry wondered if maybe Draco had fallen deep in thought, or maybe he'd just fallen asleep. Maybe he'd figured out a way to Apparate within school grounds - though that idea seemed impossible as his magical ability was equivalent to that of a teaspoon.

"Aurors. Zabini. Azkaban." Those three words were all that could spill from the blond's lips before he started to cry again, and Harry awkwardly reached around and rubbed at what he hoped was Draco's back. The blond's breath hitched, and he grabbed at Harry's wrist quickly, fingers sliding over the bond unknowingly.

"W- What?" Harry sputtered at the direct contact to his bond. The touch from his intended bond stung, and left him with his mouth agape in exasperation as a mysterious heat shot up his arm uncomfortably.

"Your hand. It wasn't very, um... Appropriate. You know what? Just, uh... Just go. I'm fine, just go. You shouldn't have come over here. Merlin, Harry, leave!" The messy-haired boy found himself magically ejected from the bed, cheeks tinted as he toppled to the floor and gripped at his wrist to make the overwhelming heat subside.

He'd accidentally touched Malfoy inappropriately. He'd tried to come off as supportive and caring, and instead he came off as a prick, and well... Wherever he'd touched had made him look very gay indeed. But he wasn't gay. He was just trying to help calm Malfoy. The blond would understand, wouldn't he?