"You're staring again," Potter said.

"Obviously," Draco said flatly.

Potter sighed.

Draco propped his hand on his chin, sitting at the small table in Potter's flat. Potter was in the kitchen, chopping an onion. He was supposedly making salsa for the bag of tortilla chips he brought back from the shops.

"It's been days," Potter said.

"Mhmm," Draco said.

"You've been acting odd since your last group meeting," Potter said.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Potter glared at him, "Like that. Too quiet. Staring. Being fucking cryptic."

Draco shrugged; it was fairly accurate.

"Care to explain why?" Potter said tightly.

Draco was almost impressed that Potter had managed to finally ask. His previous responses to Draco's staring were to glare at him, tell him to cut it out, leave the room, and, once, throw a magazine at him.

"Well, since you asked, I was-"

"Since I asked?" Potter stopped and frowned at Draco, "Are you saying all I had to do is ask?"

"I imagine it would have helped," Draco said, knowing full well that he wouldn't have had an answer the first couple of days.

"For fucks sake," Potter muttered, turning back to his onion.

"Do you still want to know?" Draco asked.

"Yes, Malfoy," Potter said.

Draco swapped, propping his chin on his other hand, "I've been thinking."

"I could have guessed that," Potter muttered. He took a breath and asked, his tone a faux calm, "What have you been thinking about?"

"Relationships... with my parents, my old friends, if I can really call them that, that sort of thing," Draco said vaguely.

"And that involves me how?" Potter asked.

"You?"

"Yes?" Potter silently swore under his breath before adding, "You've been staring at me."

"Oh, right," Draco said.

"Yes, right, that," Potter said impatiently.

That was a bit more difficult. It was a delicate question, and Draco had enormous difficulty being civil where Potter was concerned. But he was starting to want to be.

"I've been... trying to figure you out," Draco said.

"You could just ask. I imagine it would help," Potter said sarcastically.

"I don't know how to ask," Draco said.

"Just ask, Malfoy. I'm fucking tired of you staring," Potter said.

Draco winced in anticipation, "You're not going to like it."

"Ask," Potter said.

"Fine. ...Were you starved as a child?"

The knife slipped, and Potter swore as it fell, clattering across the floor.

Draco was startled to his feet, "Merlin, Potter, are you alright?"

"Fine," Potter said.

Draco didn't believe him. He hurried over and took Potter's hand.

"It's fine, Malfoy-"

"You've cut yourself," Draco said, "I'll get a plaster for it-"

"You can just use an episky," Potter said.

Draco almost laughed, "I forgot I can use magic on you." He took his wand out of his pocket and cast the simple charm, healing the cut and leaving only a small smear of blood on his skin.

He would have used a cleaning spell as well, but Potter pulled away and went to the sink.

"Why did you ask that?" Potter asked; his back turned to Draco as he flipped on the faucet.

"I just remembered how you looked when you first came to school," Draco said.

Potter made a noise in the back of his throat, "Grubby? With second-hand clothes that didn't fit? I seem to remember you having something to say about that."

"Small," Draco said.

"We were all small," Potter said, shutting off the water and bracing his hands on the edge of the sink.

Draco shook his head, "That's not what I meant. By the end of the year, you'd look... different. Better. But sometimes, after summer break, that smallness would come back..."

Potter was shaking his head.

Draco hurriedly added, "And then I noticed that you're always trying to feed me- or well, try to make sure I'm eating."

Potter's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"So I thought perhaps-"

"That's more Molly," Potter said. He shook his hands off and turned around, leaning back against the counter. "She's always trying to feed me, and everyone really, given half a chance. No matter how much they were struggling, Molly always made sure her kids had enough to eat. It must have rubbed off on me."

Draco nodded and, not sure what to say, looked around for the knife. He picked it up and cast a cleaning spell on it, "Here."

"Thanks," Potter took it and returned to his cutting board.

Draco found himself once again staring at Potter's back and feeling like there was something else he ought to say but without a clue as to what.

"Not many people know," Potter said quietly.

And it took a moment for Draco to realise what he was talking about.

"Even my friends that do know... I don't think they've ever said anything." Potter laughed lightly, "Not very British of you."

"Delicacy was never something I was particularly good at," Draco said.

Potter laughed again and reached up, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Onion's strong."

Draco's eyes weren't stinging at all.

"And you're sure you want to stick around? I'll tell everyone to behave, but you and them- you don't exactly have the best history-"

"I'm curious. I want to see what's so great about this game night of yours," Draco said, "I'll be on my best behaviour, so if anything goes wrong, you should know it won't be my fault."

Potter snorted, "Sure."

"I mean it," Draco insisted.

"Yeah, yeah," Potter said, "Grab the tomatoes, would you?"

Draco sighed and then went to get the tomatoes.

Draco hated Potter's friends. He, in fact, loathed them with every fibre of his being.

"He's cheating! I swear he's cheating!" Weasley pointed aggressively at the board where Draco's game piece had just knocked his off the board and sent it back to the starting area.

"It's dice," Draco said flatly, "They are, by design, random. I can't control what I roll."

"Bollocks! We're wizards!" Weasley said, throwing up his hands.

Draco showed both his empty hands.

"You charmed them before we got here!" Weasley said.

"He didn't pick the game," Potter said, "I did. So hand over the dice."

"Not until they're checked for magic," Weasley said.

"Are you a curse breaker now?" Draco said sarcastically.

"Hah!" Weasley pointed an accusing finger at Draco, "It's a curse then! You admit it."

Draco closed his eyes in dismay.

"He was being sarcastic, Ron," Potter said, his impatience starting to show.

"See, if you had just allowed me to place a non-cheating charm over the board before we started, then none of this would have happened," Granger said.

"Or you could just fucking trust Malfoy-" Potter started.

"Trust Malfoy?!" Weasley said.

"YES. He's not going to cheat over a stupid board game,Ron," Potter said sharply.

Granger looked incredulous.

"Yeah, right, he's-"

"He wouldn't," Potter snapped, "That's not- it's- it's just not something he would do. He's petty but not in that way."

"How sweet," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Look," Granger said, pulling out another game box, "we can use the dice from this set. That way, you'll know they're not tampered with."

Weasley narrowed his eyes. "Only if Malfoy gives up his wand, otherwise-"

Draco froze.

"No," Potter interrupted before it could go any further. "Just play with the new dice and stop being a prick."

Draco breathed out. And for just a second, he felt Potter's hand on his arm, a brief reassuring touch.

"Fine," Weasley muttered as Granger took the new dice and passed them to Potter.

When it finally came around to Draco's turn, he rolled his dice and, instead of moving his last piece into the home spot where he could have probably won in the next couple of turns; he moved past it so he'd have to make whole nother round of the board before he could be safe. "There. Happy?" He said to Weasley pointedly.

Weasley glared at the board, "Are you fucking-"

"That's the kind of petty he is," Potter sighed. He grabbed the dice and held them out. "Who's next?"

Weasley's mouth hung open, "You're just going to let him-"

"He can do what he likes," Granger said.

"Yeah, but it's not fair! If I'm going to win, I want it to be fair and square! Not like- like this!" Weasley gestured to the board.

"I would have beat you before that," Granger said. "You still have two pieces in the starting zone-"

"Which is his fault!" Weasley said.

"I was just playing the game. That's how it works. I read through the rule pamphlet quite thoroughly," Draco said.

"You just had bad luck," Granger said.

"I'm the one who had bad luck," Draco said, standing up from the couch.

"Where are you going?" Weasley demanded.

"Kitchen. Obviously," Draco said as he walked the ten feet to the small kitchen. "Just play without me."

Potter stood up and followed him, "Are you sure? You don't have to leave. Ron's just being difficult."

Draco snorted, "Understatement of the century."

"Once he gets to know you a bit, he'll relax," Potter said.

"And I'm tired of waiting for him to unclench," Draco said, "Finish the game; it'll be easier without me there."

"Malfoy-"

"Besides," Draco smirked, "We all know I would have won. That's not going to change just because I left."

Potter sighed.

"He started it," Draco said.

"He did," Potter agreed in the way a parent of two squabble children who knows it's only a matter of time before the roles are reversed.

In the few seconds they had been gone, it seemed like Weasley was working himself up into another strop. Potter hurried back to the living area before the game board was flipped off the coffee table.

Draco sat on the countertop, picking up a meat pasty from the plate Weasley had brought along as his contribution to game night. They were almost unfairly good, better than anything he'd had from a shop. Apparently, his mum had made them.

There was a faint pop of apparition, followed by Luna Lovegood stepping out of Potter's bedroom. Her hair was in a wavy half-curled state, and she was wearing an almost painfully cheerful yellow sundress that matched the small lemon earring hanging from her ears.

After exuberantly greeting the golden trio and chatting with them for a bit, Draco was surprised when Lovegood came to join him in the kitchen.

She hopped up beside Draco on the counter on the other side of the meat pasty plate, "Are these from Molly?"

Draco nodded.

"She's so good at them, isn't she?" Lovegood said.

"...yes," Draco said uncertainly.

Lovegood nibbled at the pasty crust, pausing to wipe crumbs off her dress. "Am I bothering you?"

"No," Draco said, "Not in the slightest."

She stared at him, her eyes far too intense for their pale blue-ness.

"...I was more worried that I was bothering you," Draco said.

Lovegood shook her head, "I've been wanting to talk to you, you know."

"You have?"

"Yes. I looked for you a bit after the war, but it seemed as if you had vanished into thin air. Poof," Lovegood made a poofing motion with her hand.

"I was here. In London," Draco said, "Just on the muggle side."

"Oh," Lovegood said. She took another bite of pasty and chewed it thoughtfully. "...It is remarkable how very big the muggle world is, isn't it? I could search most of the wizarding places in the UK in a day. Well, perhaps in a day, if I was determined. But I could spend years just searching London and never find someone, especially if they were determined not to be found."

Draco nodded. He added, a bit carefully, "It scared me at first, how big it was and how many people there were."

Lovegood nodded, "It gives me a headache."

"It does?"

"Not right away," Lovegood said, "There is just so much that after a while my head feels as if it might explode."

"Ah," Draco said as if he understood. "...Why did you want to talk to me?"

"Oh! Right," Lovegood smiled brightly. "My mind healer recommended it. He said I was holding onto unresolved trauma from what happened during the war in your house."

"Understandably," Draco said.

"I think he was right. But I don't think you were to blame," Lovegood said.

"You don't?" Draco said.

Lovegood shook her head, "I mean, I don't think Humbert thought you were either-"

"Humbert?"

"My mind healer," Lovegood said, "But I was very upset about it all, and I wanted it to be your fault. It was easier when I could blame you."

Draco's eyes widened in dismay, "But it was my fault. You were in my house. You-"

"Did you put me there?" Lovegood asked.

Before Draco could answer, she continued.

"Deatheaters caught me. Voldemort had me put there. And it was your parent's home." Lovegood ticked off each point on her fingers before popping the last bite of meat pasty into her mouth. "I think it was easy to be angry with you because you brought our food, so I saw you the most."

"I should have-" Draco hesitated, "I should have done more."

Lovegood laughed, "I think you're comparing yourself to Harry too much."

Draco's brow furrowed.

"When you compare yourself to Harry, everything you did wasn't enough, I think. You want to be as brave as him, and when you can't, it feels like you've done it wrong," Lovegood said.

"Oh, who cares what scarhead would do." Draco's expression slipped into a glower, "That's right, I do know. He'd rush in and save everyone and then rush off again."

Lovegood smiled, "He's very brave like that, but we can't all be Harry, can we?"

"I should hope the fuck not," Draco said.

Lovegood laughed, a light tinkling sound that reminded Draco of wind chimes. When she caught her breath, she said, "Are you in therapy too?"

Draco blinked in confusion.

"Oh, because you're taking all this so well, and I felt like you understood," Lovegood said. "Humbert does say that I jump ahead in conversations, and it can be hard to follow my line of thinking, so sometimes I ought to go back and explain how I got there."

Draco nodded, "That did help."

"So are you?" Lovegood asked.

"Am I-?"

"In therapy?" Lovegood asked.

Draco nodded reluctantly, "Group therapy. I haven't been going long."

"It's helpful, though, isn't it?" Lovegood said.

"Yes?"

"It's been enormously helpful for me. I've been trying to convince some of the others to do something like it, but they think it's silly," Lovegood said. "I wonder sometimes if just because it's me saying it. But I can't help but be myself, can I?"

"No. I quite often have that problem myself," Draco said.

Lovegood nodded solemnly. "It's quite terrible when you want nothing more than to be listened to, but they can't hear you over the you that you are."

Draco stared at her.

Lovegood shrugged.

"No, there's something profound in that. It's just- it takes a moment to think through," Draco said.

Lovegood smiled, "Thank you."

"For what?" Draco asked.

"For taking the time to think it through," Lovegood said.

"Of course," Draco said.

"You've changed an awful lot, haven't you?" Lovegood said.

"Well..."

"Then again, I didn't really know you in school. But the impression I got of you is very different than the you right now," Lovegood said.

"I think I had to," Draco said.

Lovegood tilted her head, "I mean, not really. There are plenty of people who are just the same as they were before the war. Or at least, they act like they are."

Draco wondered if he was just imagining the look Lovegood was giving to golden trio in the living area.

"Have you been busy?" Lovegood asked.

"Busy?"

"Like with a job or a hobby or something," Lovegood swung her legs, her heels hitting the cabinet door in a soft drumming rhythm. "I never know how to have those sorts of conversations. The starting kind. They are just so boring most of the time."

Draco paused for a second to untangle Lovegood's words before answering. "I... don't have a job. My hobby was drinking," He forced a laugh, "but I've been... trying to..." he stopped suddenly, unable to say more, his throat tight with a bitter mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty.

Lovegood nodded, "Sometimes quitting a hobby can be even harder than starting one."

That startled a small laugh out of Draco. He tried to clear his throat subtly and made himself cough instead.

"Would you like some water?" Lovegood asked, jumping off the counter before he could answer. She grabbed a mug from the shelf and filled it with water. "This one is mine, but you can use it."

Draco took the mug and sipped some water because it felt too rude not to. The mug was the one with a kitten hanging from a branch saying, 'Hang in there!'.

"Yours?" he asked.

"Harry got a special mug for each of us to use when we came over to visit. It was very sweet of him," Lovegood said.

Draco remembered the first time he had found the mug at the back of the shelf, a layer of dust inside. Either Lovegood didn't visit often, or Potter had rather missed the mark with his mug choice.

"Have you-" Draco started and then corrected, "Do you have any hobbies? Work?"

Lovegood hopped on the counter beside him, "I help my father with The Quibbler."

Draco nodded. What he had read in the magazine suddenly made a lot more sense after speaking with her.

"Otherwise, I suppose I've been spending most of my time researching," Lovegood said.

"What are you researching? If you don't mind my asking," Draco said.

"Magical creatures. Especially the very small ones and the ones that can turn invisible." Lovegood frowned to herself, "It's not a very easy thing to learn about. I suppose the bigger creatures are a bit easier to find and to study, and that might make them more interesting, but that's no reason to ignore all the rest."

Draco nodded. "In school, I remember- you were, they said you saw- uh," he stopped, unsure how to phrase it in a way that didn't sound insulting.

"That I saw nargles and wrackspurts and other things no one else could?" Lovegood asked.

"That's right."

"It's never bothered me that no one else can see them. There are lots of people in the magical world with unique abilities, like metamorphmagus and the like," Lovegood said.

"And now you're studying them?" Draco asked.

Lovegood nodded, "I'm having to learn how. It's funny how in school we learn all these things other people have studied but never learn how to study things for ourselves."

"I agree," Draco said, "It can be dangerous to experiment with magic if you don't know what you're doing."

Lovegood frowned and looked terribly sad for a moment. Then she closed her eyes, took a huge breath in, held it and then let it all out at once. She shook her head like she was trying to shake something loose in her head, opened her eyes and said, like nothing had happened, "I do wish I had a way I could show other people the creatures I can see, though. It's a terrible shame for people not to believe they're real just because we have different eyes."

"Perhaps..." Draco thought for a second, "Perhaps you simply need a different lens?"

"A lens?" Lovegood asked.

"You must know, I'm not an expert," Draco prefaced, "but I have looked through some muggle books about their magic, and they use lenses to see things that are too small for the naked eye, and things far away like- like galaxies, I think they're called. Lenses can see all sorts of things we can't see with our eyes alone."

"Oh, how interesting." Lovegood said, "So muggles can see invisible things?"

"Sort of? I think they're just too small, not properly invisible," Draco said.

"I'll have to look into it," Lovegood said. She called over to the couch, "Hermione! Can I learn about lenses at the muggle library?"

"What? You can learn anything at the library," Granger said distractedly, looking at the game board with far more seriousness than it deserved.

"Just go, Hermione," Potter said with a sigh.

"I will. I'm thinking," Granger said.

"It's 'Sorry'. The game's not that complicated," Potter said.

This earned him a glare from Granger, and a muttered, "-just because you don't think about it-"

The pop of apparition from Potter's room announced the arrival of another guest. They had hardly stepped out the door before Lovegood bounced off the counter to give them an enthusiastic hug.

"Neville! You made it!" Lovegood said.

"Yeah," Longbottom said, sounding a bit sheepishly, "I had a tone of seedlings and cuttings in propagation. They're so fussy when they're that small; I just couldn't leave them alone."

They all chatted about Longbottom's work, which Draco guessed from listening to them was a small owl-order greenhouse he had recently opened.

The last time Draco had seen Longbottom, it was when he had cut Nagini in half with a great bloody sword. Draco had to admit that that had made me quite the fan of the other bloke.

Longbottom was still a bit chubby, but it suited him, and he had grown a neat short beard. He was a great deal more confident than he had been in school, standing straighter and smiling easily.

"So you're really here," Longbottom said, quite suddenly looking right back at Draco.

"I- uh, hello," Draco said, feeling himself flush at being caught staring.

"Harry said you'd been through a lot, and that's why you're staying here," Longbottom said.

Draco started to nod but changed it to a shrug halfway through.

"Hm," Longbottom said shortly, his expression faintly disproving.

"We're almost done with this game, Nev," Potter said, "Then we can start one up with all of us."

"It's your turn, Harry," Granger said, handing him the dice.

Potter stared over at them for a second longer, a funny little frown on his face, before turning back to the game.

"Something fell out of your pocket," Lovegood said, leaning down and plucking something off the floor.

"Oh, thanks," Longbottom said gratefully, taking the long, familiar paper chain made of candy wrappers.

"Did you make this?" Lovegood asked, still holding onto the end of the chain and studying how it was folded and woven together.

Longbottom shook his head, "My mum made it. She adds to it every time I come visit now."

"Oh, wonderful! That's new, isn't it?" Lovegood said.

Longbottom smiled, his eyes shining with an emotion Draco couldn't place, "The mediwitches said a new volunteer taught her how to do it. I'm gonna show it to Gran. If she sees that Mum and Dad can learn new things, maybe she'll let me start taking them to muggle physical therapy."

"I'm sure she'll listen to you once you show her this," Lovegood said.

"I hope so," Longbottom said.

Draco gripped the edge of the counter tight, his heart suddenly racing with pride and dismay. He had just been chatting. He never thought he could do something like that, something that helped.

Draco wondered if he should say something. Say that it had been him that had taught Neville's mother how to fold the origami chain. His heart raced even faster at just the thought. But what would he say? And... And there was no way they would believe him.

In fact, he could imagine their reactions, and anger only started to cover the range of possibilities. Draco pulled his hands into his lap, squeezing them together as he did his best to dispel the thought from his mind.

"Oh my god." Granger's exasperated sigh startled Draco back to the present. She gave Neville a quick hug on her way into the kitchen.

"Is the game done?" Lovegood asked.

Granger rolled her eyes. "I won. I suppose," she shot Draco a sour look before turning back to Lovegood. "Ron wanted to keep playing for second place, but they should be done soon."

Granger unhooked a small beaded bag from her belt loop and pulled it open. Her arm disappeared, deep, deep inside in a terribly impressive example of an extension charm.

"You said you were growing seedlings; are they new plants or just adding to your current stock?" Granger asked.

"The seedlings are mostly new. Monty, they're a herbalist I met in Germany, sent me some interesting hybrids between Hugelies Dinnerplate and a blue-purple colour Morphus, uh, both types of magically enhanced roses. I think they'll sell well," Longbottom said.

Granger sighed.

"They're nice," Longbottom said.

"You say that, but you started this business to sell magical plants, not- not flowers," Granger said.

Longbottom shrugged, "People like flowers. And there isn't much of a market for venomous tentacula. I still get to grow plenty of magical plants for potion brewers and other speciality growers."

Granger huffed, clearly not satisfied by the compromise. "Ah, there it is," she muttered, drawing her arm out of the bag and with it, a long dark bottle.

"Hermione," Lovegood said with a gasp, "Harry said no alcohol!"

"Harry's just sour because the last time we went out, he got drunk and spent the whole night complaining about Malfoy," Granger said. She set the bottle on the counter and twirled her wand over the cork, popping the cork with a wordless charm.

The cork landed on the floor and rolled in a little half-circle before coming to a stop. And Draco couldn't seem to look away from it.

There was a clink of glassware and the soft sound of liquid pouring from a bottle. The smell of the wine hit him suddenly, faint and yet so strong it made his eyes sting. His breathing stuttered in his chest, and he automatically smothered the hiccup of sound.

Draco slipped off the counter. Careful, careful. Trying to make no noise. Moving behind the people, away. He couldn't attract their attention. He went into the bedroom, easing the door shut, hurrying to the closet, and slipping inside.

He let out a heavy shuddering breath as the last of the light disappeared and closed him inside. He crawled to the back, pressing himself into the corner of the closet and pulling his knees to his chest, hiding his face in the small gap between them; to muffle the sound of his erratic breathing. No one could hear him. No one could see him like this. If they found out, his parents would be in danger; he would be in danger. He had to be strong. He had to.

His hand reached out blindly. He needed to calm down. He needed to pull himself together, but he found no bottle. He always kept one in here. And under his bed.

Draco lifted his head, looking around in the dark for the slightly darker shadow of a wine bottle. He swallowed hard on the ball of panic lodging itself in his throat, sliding his hands blindly along the floor, from one comer to the other and finding nothing.

He tried to stumble to his feet, to get to his bed, the other bottle, his head running into clothing and hangers, falling off and over his head and shoulders. A heavy sweater draped itself over his face, and Draco's frantic movements slowed. It smelled like... this wasn't his. If nothing else, Draco wouldn't put a sweater on a hanger; it stretched out the shoulders.

He drifted back down to the floor, pulling the sweater off his head and clutching the knit in his hands. It was so thick. And it smelled like pine and evergreen, like Potter's shampoo.

Draco leaned back against the wall, Potter's clothing laying over him like a quilt. The smell of Potter, his detergent, the faint air of mustiness from the things he rarely wore. Draco breathed in deep, the racing, aching pain in his chest fading ever so slightly.

He wasn't there. He wasn't at the manor anymore.

"fuck," Draco whispered.

Draco pulled the sweater on and wiped his face on the sleeves. He let the warmth of the pile of clothing soak into his skin, content not to move for the rest of his life.

Outside of the closet, Draco heard the sound of the bedroom door opening and then closing behind someone coming inside. Or more than one person as they began to talk.

"-What are you-" Potter said.

"It's important, it's important," Weasley said.

"Be quick about it then," Potter sighed.

"Ginny's back from that quidditch train camp in America," Weasley said.

There was a long pause before Potter said, "That's good? She's been gone for a few months, yeah?"

Weasley sighed, "Look, I don't know what happened between you and Gin, but I know it wasn't bad; you're still on good terms and everything."

"Ron-"

"So now that you've had a break, you could try it again," Weasley said.

"Ron," Potter cut him off. "Just leave it." "You were together for like... three years?" Weasley said.

"Four," Potter said flatly, "And it's none of your business."

"My best friend and my little sister? It's a bit my business," Weasley said.

Potter started to say something but Weasley quickly added. "I know, I know, I just wanted to let you know, y'know, that Ginny was back home."

Potter sighed heavily, "thanks?"

"I invited her to come today, but she just portkeyed in and she said-"

"Hello?" the door creaked faintly as it opened again.

"Sorry, Luna, we're coming," Potter said.

"That's okay," Lovegood said as if their being in the room was entirely incidental. "I was looking for Draco."

"Why-" Weasley started.

Potter talked right over him, "What happened? I thought he was in the kitchen with everyone else."

"He left after Hermione opened a bottle of wine. I thought he went to the toilet, but it's empty," Lovegood said.

"I said no alcohol!" Potter snapped, his voice fading as he stormed out of the room, Weasley on his heel.

The door shut, and there was a beat of silence.

"Draco? Are you here?" Lovegood called softly.

Draco hesitated for a moment, "...Yes."

"Oh," Lovegood said. The floor creaked as she moved closer, "Do you want company?"

Draco was fairly certain that he would have said no with anyone else. "I think I would."

Lovegood opened the closet door, "You look very cosy."

Draco nodded.

Lovegood dropped to her hands and knees, crawling into the other side of the closet. She took a moment to arrange herself, sitting cross-legged and grabbing one of Potter's fallen cloaks to pull over her lap like a blanket.

"I checked the bed first, but Harry's bed isn't a very good place to hide," Lovegood said.

"It would have been my second choice," Draco said.

Lovegood nodded seriously, "I always hide under my blankets. I put a charm on them, so it looks like no one is under them. It's my safe place."

"That sounds far more comfortable. And quite clever," Draco said.

"Was it the wine?" Lovegood asked. "Because you mentioned you used to drink before."

Draco nodded. Then laughed weakly. "I think I was triggered? How convenient to have an example so soon after learning about them."

"It's cellars for me," Lovegood said, "The smell especially. That musty, damp smell..." she grimaced and huffed a breath.

"I'm sorry," Draco said.

"You're silly," Lovegood said. "Have you learned about grounding at all?"

Draco shook his head.

"I like hugs best," Lovegood said, holding out her hands, "but hand holding is good too."

Draco looked at her small hands in dismay.

"Do you not like touching?" Lovegood asked.

"I- We- You and I-?" Draco said.

"It's alright. Isn't it?" Lovegood said.

Draco frowned but did as he was told, holding his hands out and allowing Lovegood to take them. She had a surprisingly strong grip, giving Draco's hands a quick, tight squeeze.

"Grounding is being here rather than there," Lovegood said.

Draco's brow furrowed.

"Like when you're triggered, it pulls your mind right back into that bad moment in the past, so you have to pull it back to the here and now. And grounding is finding something to focus on in the present." Lovegood squeezed his hands again, "Like this. If I'm at home, I'll ask my dad to give me the tightest hug he can manage. If he's not there, I'll climb under the covers because it's warm and soft and smells like lavender; I always keep a sachet under my pillow. And then I usually take a nap because being upset is so very tiring."

Draco nodded emphatically, "Extremely tiring."

Luna smiled brightly. "I'm glad we got to meet again. I hope we get to talk more. I think we might be friends."

"Friends," Draco repeated softly.

"Yes," Lovegood said.

"Do you really...?" Draco said.

"I do," Lovegood said.

Draco wasn't sure what, or even if he could, say anything to that. "Lovegood..."

"Luna. I'd like you to call me Luna. And I'll call you Draco, alright?"

"If... if you're sure," Draco said.

"Very and entirely," Love- Luna said.

A shadow fell over them as Potter loomed into the doorway, looking at the two of them in dismay, "What-? Why are you sitting in my closet?"

"I found Draco," Luna said brightly. "Have you started another game?"

"...Not yet. They were arguing about which one to play. Ron wants to play poker-"

"Boo. I want to play one of the cooperative ones. They're more fun," Luna said, hopping to her feet and ducking around Potter, going to the living room to state her case to the rest of the group.

They were left alone. And Potter was staring at him.

"Luna, huh?" Potter said, "Luna's a good friend to have. One of the best."

"...She's certainly an improvement over the rest of them," Draco said.

Potter frowned but shook the expression off, "They'll come around, you'll see."

Draco began pushing Potter's clothes off his lap. He should probably apologise; he had knocked all but a few of Potter's uniforms onto the floor.

"You shouldn't hang your sweaters. It stretches them out," Draco said instead.

Potter huffed a faint laugh and held out his hand, pulling Draco easily to his feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Me? Fine. Obviously," Draco gestured to the closet, "never been better."

Potter took a step closer and cupped Draco's face between his hands. He brushed a thumb across Draco's cheek as he leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips.

"Oh," Draco said faintly.

"Sorry, I should have asked," Potter said.

Draco shook his head, catching Potter's wrists in his hands before he could pull away. "I just didn't think..." this would ever happen.

Draco closed the space between them and kissed Potter back. His hands skimmed down the firm muscles of Potter's arms, the muscles flexing as Draco's hands slid over them. Draco gasped lightly as his back pressed into the open closet door.

He saw Potter's hesitation and cut it off, "Pin me tighter."

Draco nipped Potter's bottom lip, curling his arms around Potter's shoulders. He shivered faintly as Potter's hands wandered down his sides, hips-

"Can you lift me?" Draco asked and was delighted when Potter immediately shifted his grip, his fingers curling under Draco's thighs and sliding him up the door. He laughed breathlessly, his legs looping around Potter's waist. "I've always wanted to do this," he said and kissed Potter again and again.

Potter's eyes were intense, his heart pounding in his chest where it was pressed against Draco's. Draco indulged in running his fingers through Potter's hair, catching silky loops of black around his fingertips and tugging. And Potter made a noise in the back of his throat that would have made Draco go weak at the knees if Potter wasn't holding him up.

"Malfoy," Potter breathed. His mouth moved down along Draco's jaw, and Draco tilted his head up, allowing Potter's mouth to trail down his neck, tongue flicking out and leaving a trail of heat behind.

"Harry! Are you coming?!" Longbottom called from the living room.

Potter startled, and Draco grabbed onto him tightly in case Potter forgot he was holding him up.

"Sorry," Potter said. He adjusted his grip and let Draco back down onto his feet.

"We're about to start," Granger added loudly.

Potter took a second, letting his hands linger on Draco's hips before he called back to the living room, "I'm coming!" He looked out of breath and flushed. It was a good look on him.

"Sorry-"

"You said that already," Draco said.

"No, I'm sorry about Hermione," Potter said. "I told them no alcohol, but I didn't say why. I figured you wouldn't want them to know."

"....thank you," Draco said.

"Harry!" Weasley shouted.

Potter took a step towards the door, "Are you coming?"

Draco shook his head, "...I'm tired."

Potter hesitated and then came back, stealing a quick kiss, "Okay. You can use my bed if you want. And, erm... the sweater, just be careful with it. It means a lot to me."

Draco didn't miss that Potter eased the door shut as he left so it wouldn't bang closed.

Draco looked down at the sweater he had put on for the first time, handmade with a large H stitched into the centre. It looked like one of the sweaters Potter would wear around Hogwart's in the winter. He wondered who had made it for him.

It took what felt like hours to unstick himself from where he was standing, to move anywhere, his mind caught up in a racing, hazy mess of everything that had happened.

Draco sat on the edge of Potter's bed and dropped onto his back, staring up blankly at the ceiling. Despite what he had said about being tired, he was fairly certain he had never felt more awake in his life.