"How was therapy?" Harry asked from the sofa he was lounging on.

Glancing over, it seemed Harry was polishing his broom. "Harry! You're going to get grease all over the couch, and ruin it!" in seconds Draco had all of Harry's tools on the table.

Harry sighed at the motherly action."You do realize I payed for it right? Its not yours."

"That may be true, but I put in the effort of choosing such a fine couch, and I will not stand to see it ruined!"

Giving him an amused look, Harry then responded with, "Then sit."

Harry smirked, but stood up. Once the danger to the couch was gone, Draco sat. His head leaning heavily on his hand. Did Harry not know the importance of designer couches? Where was the respect?

"For your information, therapy was preposterous as usual. Talking of bloody feelings, and rubbish like that." Draco complained before looking up.

Moments later Harry held the polish, and the broom again. He was staring straight at Draco with a smirk.

"Potter!"

"What?"

Cue Draco's exasperated sigh.

"Fine I'll do it on the floor."

(Now I'm imagining Draco going "but its white carpet!" or something along those lines.)

......

"Honestly Potter, it's like you were raised in a barn! Has no one taught you manners?"

Harry paused only to realize his cheeks were bulging, and some of the food was leaking down his chin. Refusing to look at Draco, he quickly hid the evidence of what he'd just done.

"You're an absolute hooligan Potter. I can't believe you eat like a freak." Draco went to eat his food, finding his appetite had eased away slightly. Honestly Potter would kill him with a lack of social skills.

Then Draco heard a whimper. It shocked him since he hadn't expected it. Kreatcher wasn't in the room, and they were alone. That left one place where it could have come from. Looking down he found Potter staring at his plate, staring with rapt attention. After watching for a second, he realized Potter must be reliving something. Something that scared the boy wonder.

Harry who seemed proud of his posture in the past, sat with his back curled. His arms around his knees. There was a slight tremble in Harry's lip. All the while he continued to stare at his plate. Soon Harry's hands were shaking, and Draco still didn't know what to do.

A second whimper brought Draco to Harry's side. "Hey, I didn't mean it. You can eat like a heathen anytime you like!" In an attempt to calm, Draco placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. It did the opposite. Harry quickly curled away into a ball.

"I'm sorry," Harry's voice cracked.

Ages ago, Draco thought an apology from his enemy would be incredibly nice. Now he wanted anything but. He wanted the insults, the fire in Potter's eyes, and the game of taunting they played without knowing it.

Draco had never hated Potter. More so Draco was jealous of the golden boy's perfect life. Watching Harry shake silently in front of him, Draco's chest hurt. This boy hadn't needed Draco to make his life worse.

"It's alright." Draco spoke kindly. "Focus on my voice. You're here in Grimauld place. You're sitting on a chair, beside me. What can you smell? What can you hear?"

Draco kept speaking. He talked about the meal that they ate, the after taste it left, the feeling of jeans scratching at your legs, how the fabric of their shorts rippled over their skin, and the feel of glasses on a nose. "Then there's that weird fan that squeak every two rounds, as well as the occasional noise from the furnace-"

The shaking had ceased. Harry was still curled up slightly, but he was breathing normally again.

It was when Harry uncurled himself from the ball that he'd been in that Draco spoke, "you must be tired. Let's get you to bed." Gently, Draco offered Harry a hand. Harry took it. His heart was beating a little quicker, but Draco ignored it. Pulling him up, Draco had Harry lean on him. They began to leave the kitchen.

Without warning, Harry came to a stop. "I need to do the dishes."

"We'll do them tomorrow morning. There's no rush."

With a small tug forwards, Harry followed Draco. They made it to Harry's room, and Harry yawned. Without thinking, Harry plopped down onto the bed.  This had nearly pulled Draco down too. Before Draco knew it, Harry was asleep.

.....

The next morning Harry came into the kitchen to find Draco finishing up the dishes with Kreatcher. Harry gaped at the scene because Draco hadn't done the dishes up to this point. Sometimes Harry would find Kreatcher doing Draco's dishes.

When Draco dropped one and swore, Harry quickly realized he wasn't doing them all that well because there was a large pile of broken dishes around the corner.

The snort at seeing the broken pile of dishes had been involuntary, but it had still alerted Draco to Harry's presence.

"There you are! That's for you." Draco had pointed to a small cup of orange liquid. When he noticed Harry looking at it quizzically, Draco spoke again, "I need an alive babysitter Potter. It's not poisoned."

After giving the orange concoction a last glare, he drank it as swiftly as possible. It had a pleasant after taste.

"An Invigoration drought." Draco took the cup from Harry, and began cleaning it. "I thought you'd be tired after yesterday."

"Oh, well um... thanks, and sorry about that."

Draco waved a plate around, "don't apologize Potter." Then he dropped the plate.

If Harry hadn't nose dived to catch it, they would have lost another plate.

......

The nervousness hadn't originally set in. That was until now.

Standing outside the door of the very people who he had been taught for years to hate. They in turn seemed to despise him, and his family. That was until Draco had shown up in their floo practically naked of course. They'd been incredibly accepting then. Mrs. Weasley's response could almost be considered loving.

Of course it must be a front put up to gain some kind of status. As kind people perhaps? So people come to them for help, and owe them favours? That must be it.

The door opened.

Time seemed to temporarily slow as they were greeted by a smiling red head.

A Weasley gathering.

He'd heard horror stories about those from his parents. His old friends made fun of them. Now he was going to experience one for himself.

Draco was absolutely beside himself with fear.

.

.