Draco awoke on his bed. It had just been another dream, thank Merlin.
He stretched his arms, feeling satisfied at the pop in his spine as he did so.
“Oh, thank god, you’re awake.”
Draco’s eyes rocketed open, only to fall upon Harry Potter, sitting at the edge of his bed in the Slytherin dungeons.
“You passed out and then you became human again, and you’re too tall to cover with the Invisibility Cloak entirely, so I had to levitate you down here with your feet sticking out. Luckily, no one was there to see,” Harry rambled a bit.
“You weren’t supposed to know,” was all Draco could bring himself to say.
“Thanks, Harry. You’re very welcome for not leaving you on the grass in the rain for anyone to see, Malfoy,” Harry said.
“McGonagall will kill me now that you know.”
“Well, being killed doesn’t appear to be all that bad,” Harry said, not without a hint of bitterness.
“Potter, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would bother you.”
“It did.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Draco repeated, sitting up. A silence hung heavy between them. “It felt like the only option.”
“How?”
“The trial may have gone well, had I gone, but the whole world hated me. Still does. Even if I was exonerated, I couldn’t live with the staring and the whispering. I couldn’t live knowing no one really forgave me,” Draco explained.
“I forgave you.”
“I know.”
Harry fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.
“We don’t have to tell her,” he said, finally, his eyes meeting Draco’s.
“That you know? No, I suppose we don’t. I could just obliviate you and we could carry on like—”
“No!” Harry interjected quickly.
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