"Hey, I've been looking for you," Harry said as he stepped into Draco's room after dinner that evening.

Draco was sitting cross-legged on his bed, a thick book open before him. He didn't look up from it. "You must not have looked very hard. I've been right here, confined to my room just as Severus said."

Harry frowned at him. "What?"

"I'm not supposed to leave my room in the evenings. Severus said so the first day I came. Surely you know that," Draco responded coolly.

He did know that, actually, Harry realized, but he hadn't been thinking of it. He'd been too busy thinking about Ron and Hermione's visit. They had spent a good part of the afternoon begging him to come back to Hogwarts for the Yule Ball.

At first Harry had flatly refused. There was no way that he was ready to return to Hogwarts and face everyone. Oh sure, there had been moments here and there over the past weeks when he had briefly considered being back at school, times when he'd missed Quidditch practice, eating in the Great Hall, and wandering about Hogsmeade on the weekends. Hogwarts had been his first home, the first place where he had ever felt accepted and welcomed, and this year had gotten off to a great start. Of course there were times when Harry missed it all.

But then he thought of how everyone knew about the slavery spell now, how they would all stare and whisper behind his back, and some of them might do even worse. Then Harry would shudder with relief at the knowledge that he didn't have to go through that, that he was safe at Prince Hall, his real home now.

But Ron and Hermione had been very persistent, suggesting that Harry could take polyjuice potion or that Severus could cast a glamour spell over him. And though he hadn't admitted it to his friends, Harry had begun to consider those prospects. If his appearance was disguised and no one knew it was him...well, the Yule Ball might be fun. Maybe. He would have to think about it. He didn't have to make a decision yet. The Ball was three weeks away.

He had grown tired of mentally debating his options and his father was engrossed in a potions journal that had arrived that afternoon so Harry had gone to see if Draco wanted to play that game of Exploding Snap.

The other boy did not seem to be in the best of moods, but Harry decided to ask him anyway. "Well, I just wanted to see if you wanted to play Exploding Snap or something?"

"I told you, I have to stay in my room," Draco said flatly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So? We could stay here or I bet Dad would say it was all right for you to come down if I asked him."

"Oh, I'm sure Severus would agree if you asked him." Draco finally looked up from his book, giving Harry a cool stare. "Why are you so anxious for my company all of a sudden? Are you that lonely without Weasley and Granger by your side?"

Harry's own temper flared. "Just forget it," he snapped, turning to go. "I've got other things to do."

"Harry, wait!" Draco called, scrambling off the bed. His voice had lost its offended aloof tone and he sounded almost upset.

It was that underlying pleading note that made Harry pause and turn back. "Yes?" His own voice was distant, but two could that game.

"I'm being a prat, I know, and..." Draco took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Harry considered, and then tilted his head slightly as he studied the blond boy standing before him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Draco replied so quickly that Harry knew it wasn't the truth. "I was just in a bad mood. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, especially when you've been really good about...everything. I'm sorry. I really am. Okay?"

Harry sighed. "Okay."

"So do you still want to play?" Draco asked, giving him an uncertain but almost pleading look.

"Sure," Harry replied.

Draco's tense features relaxed for a moment as he smiled.

"Do you want to stay here or should I ask Severus if we could go downstairs?" Harry inquired.

"Um, stay here, I guess, if you don't mind. I don't want Severus to think I'm getting you to ask favours for me," the other boy said.

"I don't think he would think that, but I don't mind staying up here. It's a nice room," Harry answered.

Draco glanced about, grimacing. "You don't have to say that. I know it's not much of a room. But it's a lot better than Azkaban."

"It's a lot better than..." Harry began rather indignantly but stopped abruptly when he realized that he'd been about to say, "It's a lot better than a cupboard."

"Better than what?" Draco asked curiously when it became obvious that Harry wasn't going to continue.

"Nothing." He and Draco might be getting on better, but there was no way that Harry was going to tell him about the Dursleys. "I just meant that there's nothing wrong with this room. It's perfectly fine."

And it was. It was smaller than the suites below, but it wasn't cramped. Compared to the beautiful spacious rooms downstairs, this bedroom was more plain and sparse, but it was comfortably furnished, with a medium-sized bed, a night table, a wardrobe, and a small desk and chair. It was just more of an ordinary bedroom rather than a luxurious one.

To Harry, with his past experiences with the Dursleys, having any room of his own was a treat, but he supposed that Draco had always been accustomed to luxury.

He cast the other boy a sideways glance. "I stayed here the first week or so that I was at Prince Hall last summer."

"Really?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Dad moved me downstairs after I got hurt so that he could keep an eye on me while I recuperated. At least that's what he said, but that was when he first started to change towards me. I think now that he gave me my suite downstairs to kind of make up for things."

"You got hurt? How?" Draco seemed rather intrigued.

"Yeah. Dad hasn't told you about all of that?"

Draco shook his head. "No. I asked him once why everything had changed so much when he used to hate you, but he only said that over the summer he had gotten to know you better."

"Well, basically, that's true," Harry agreed. "But I got hurt really bad when he punished me for something that I didn't even do. Dad told me that that was when he had to admit that he'd been wrong about me and he started trying to get to know me better after that."

"So what happened?" Draco asked. "I mean, if you don't mind telling me?"

"No, I don't mind," Harry replied.

Draco motioned towards the bed. "Come on, let's sit down."

They crossed over to the bed. Draco pushed the book out of the way and leaned back against the headboard while Harry sat cross-legged at the foot.

"How did you get hurt? I know Severus wouldn't have hurt you...physically anyway. I guess we both hurt you with words before, but..." Draco stopped and looked away, uncharacteristically awkward and embarrassed.

Harry was surprised at the other boy's perceptiveness, or at least his willingness to voice it, but he decided to stick with talking about this one particular incident.

"No, Dad would never have hit me or anything like that. It was kind of an accident, in a way. He thought I had been snooping in his journal."

Harry explained how Severus had ordered him to clean the potions lab, how he had mixed the wrong solutions and breathed in poisonous fumes for hours, and how, though it had been a terrible experience, it had led to Severus admitting that he had been wrong about Harry and a new relationship developing between the two of them.

"That must have been really horrible, when it was hurting so badly to breathe," Draco said quietly when Harry was finished.

Harry just nodded. "Yeah."

They were silent for a moment, then Draco spoke in a low voice. "Have you ever been been under the cruciatus curse?"

"Yeah, when Voldemort had me in the graveyard at the end of the Triwizard Tournament," Harry replied.

Draco's eyes were downcast as he continued, so quietly that Harry could hardly hear him. "Dolohov did it to me and my mother. When I first arrived back at the Manor, he and Greyback were already there. They had killed our elves and captured Mother already. I don't know how long they'd been there, but they'd been hurting her. Dolohov called her a traitor for sending me away. He said he would give me another chance to join them, but I had to prove my loyalty by killing her. When I refused, he cast the cruciatus curse on me, again and again."

Draco closed his eyes as if to shut out the memories and tears slipped down his cheek. "But I wouldn't hurt my mother, no matter what. But in the end, it didn't matter. They killed her anyway. I don't know why they didn't kill me too. Sometimes I wish they had."

Harry's own throat ached in sympathy and he couldn't think of any words that might help. Instead he just moved closer to Draco and reached to lay a hand on his arm in silent comfort.

Draco didn't respond for a while, and Harry was beginning to feel awkward. But finally the blond boy seemed to regain some composure. He swiped at his cheeks, brushing the tears away and sat up straight, looking at Harry with new maturity and empathy in his eyes.

"I hate talking about it. I don't know why I did. I guess you're one of the few people who would understand."

"I hate talking about all the bad stuff too, but one thing I have learned these past months is that sometimes you need to. If you keep it all inside, it just gets worse and worse," Harry said softly.

Draco sighed and gave a weary nod. "It's really hard though."

"I know."

"Draco?" Harry hesitated, but finally asked. "When you got hurt with those shears in the garden? Was it really an accident?"

"Of course it was an accident!" Draco said sharply. "I'm not crazy."

"It's not crazy," Harry responded. "Sometimes when things are really bad, you might think it's the only way to stop hurting. That's wrong because life changes and things can get better. So you can't give up. But it's not crazy to be hurting and want it to stop. It's just a mistake to try to kill yourself instead of reaching out and letting other people help you."

"It was an accident," Draco said firmly. He frowned at Harry. "How do you know so much about it anyway?"

Harry shook his head. "Never mind. I'm just saying that if you needed to talk, I know Dad cares for you. He'd listen. And well, there's me, too."

"I know. I just did talk with you, didn't I?" Draco replied.

"Well, yeah, you did." Harry smiled at him. "Who'd have ever thought, huh?"

"Yeah."

They were quiet for a few minutes and then Draco spoke again. "Hey, would you mind if we postpone that Exploding Snap game? I think I just want to go on to bed now."

"Sure, that's fine." Harry stood up. "Are you all right? Are you sure you don't want to talk with my dad or anything?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it any more tonight," Draco told him. "And I'm fine. I'm just kind of tired."

"Well, okay." Harry really wasn't sure if leaving Draco alone was the best thing. Talking about his mother's death would have to be really hard for him and despite Draco's protestations, Harry still wasn't sure if his injuries had truly been accidental. Draco seemed to deny it a bit too quickly and vehemently. Harry decided that he would go and speak to his father after all. He didn't want to make Draco angry, but he did want someone else, an adult who knew Draco better than he did, to judge the other boy's state of mind.

"Are Weasley and Granger coming again tomorrow?" Draco's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Yeah, after lunch."

"You don't see enough of them going to Hogwarts every evening?" Draco demanded crossly.

Harry started to answer, but Draco sighed and interrupted. "Oh, never mind. Perhaps we can do something in the evening after they leave."

"Why don't we all do something together while they're here?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Because they're Weasley and Granger, that's why."

Harry rolled his eyes back at him. "And I'm Potter and you're Malfoy, but we've managed to learn to get on."

"I'm sure they wouldn't like the idea any more than I do," Draco answered.

"Well, how are you guys ever going to learn to get on if you never spend any time together?" Harry pointed out.

"Harry, you're not imagining me becoming mates with your little Gryffindor pals, are you? Because I can tell you right now that there's no way in hell that's going to happen."

Harry bit back a sharp retort and studied Draco thoughtfully. "But why not?"

"Why not?" Draco shot him an incredulous look. "Because...because...it's just ridiculous, that's why."

Harry just smiled at him. "Two months ago we both would have said that it was ridiculous to think of us ever getting along...but we are."

"Well, that's different. I didn't really know you before. You're not the way I thought you were," Draco said defensively.

"You don't really know Ron and Hermione either, and they don't really know you," Harry pointed out.

Draco ran his hand through his hair before frowning at Harry in exasperation.

"I'm going to bed. If you want, we can do something tomorrow after Weasley and Granger leave."

Harry sighed. "All right. Good night."

"Good night."

Harry was at the door when Draco said softly, "Harry, have you ever tried to hurt yourself?"

Harry was still for a moment before glancing back at the other boy. "I don't want to talk about it."

Without waiting for Draco's response, he left and went downstairs to find his father.