and felt a hand grace his shoulder. His stomach dropped and before he had time to react, a bright blue dust ball was hurled Umbridge's way, leaving her face blue and sparkly.

Another gust of wind attacked her, and her skirt flew, giving the students a brief view of her bright pink granny knickers.

Harry was laughing so hard that tears filled his eyes and he was banging his hand on the table, as were many other's, but his chuckles stopped as Umbridge approached him. She stared fiercely at Harry. "An extra hour of detention for you tonight, Mr. Potter."

"My wand was away, I didn't do anything—" Harry immediately shut his mouth. It was true. He didn't. But making her more angry would only make things worse. The wind came from his direction, because Draco was right next to him.

"Two, then? Speaking out of turn is disrespectful. I'm afraid, to get the message through that I won't be disrespected in my classroom," she looked at him twisted, and he very well knew she didn't care who it was so long as he got punished.

Harry frowned and the hand on his shoulder squeezed him before leaving.

Harry grit his teeth.

———————————————

Harry sat in the back of the classroom during his detention with the quidditch team following their attack on Malfoy. The punishment hurt all the same, line after line in his own blood, but everyone else was there, too, and that somehow made him feel better about it. He wasn't suffering alone.

It was when everyone else's detention ended and the team left giving subtle frowns of sympathy at Harry did it start to feel cold and vacant again. His hand was red and burning and sore and his punishment had only just begun.

At first, Harry thought it was a part of his imagination, but he smelt Draco's smell again and felt him brush his arm next to him as he took a seat.

Harry's heart beat in his ears. There was no way that Draco was here right now, in detention with Umbridge, wearing his invisibility cloak.

Harry then felt tickles on his fingertips and the quill in his hand jerked a bit. Harry gripped it harshly.

Under the cloak, Draco cast a muffaldo, ensuring they wouldn't be heard, but they didn't look at each other or spoke above a whisper just in case. "It's my fault. I deserve this, come on, Harry, let me at least take some pain away."

"You don't deserve anything."

"But it was me who did it. I pulled the prank."

"It doesn't matter," Harry grit his teeth. "Go to your prefect's post. There's no need to get yourself in more trouble." Instead, Draco wrapped his arms around his arm, hugging his bicep, and fitting his head into Harry's shoulder. "I swear to God if you get us caught in the middle of detention with Umbridge—"

"You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

Harry couldn't argue with that. Plus Draco was really warm and brought a small bit of calmness—at least for a bit. So they snuggled up to each other and sat in silence.

He could do this. With Draco here, it was more bearable, even if this extra two hours was his fault.

Harry got through another page and a half before Umbridge approached him with another quill.

"To make sure the message really gets in there this time." She gave a petite crinkle and Harry took the quill, bracing himself. He lost circulation in his other arm because Draco squeezed it so hard.

The pain was exponential, the sharp sting not only worse, but warmth traveled up to Harry's elbow and made his fingers shake. More blood furiously poured out of his hand, an amount that actually scared him. He bit back whimpers as he bit his lip. I must not tell lies.

Next to him, Draco shifted and Harry suddenly felt a hand wrap around the quill. "Let me—"

"If she sees it, we're both dead," Harry snapped. "The whole point is so that she can see the damage."

Draco retracted and moved his hand to Harry's knee, but with each whimper coming from Harry's lips, his hands got more and more tense, and he didn't realize he was hurting Harry. "If I kill her now, then we won't have to worry about her seeing anything."

"If you can't control your temper, get out," Harry snarled. "I'm not kidding. It's not going to get better and there's nothing you can do about it. You don't need to see this, I don't want you here. Get out." There was a moment of silence before Draco gave a huff and unraveled his arms, leaving empty, cool air behind in his place. "And don't wander," Harry's eyes darted to Umbridge, who scribbled on some parchment as she took another sip of tea, a smirk perched on her ugly face.

Though he was annoying, Draco was right: being alone made the punishment ten times worse.

Some time later, he was released from detention and began his walk to the Gryffindor Common Room, and just as he stood before the Fat Lady's portrait, whom was sleeping, he felt a body pressed tight to his and a smell that he instantly recognized.

Draco hugged him through the invisibility cloak, and Harry just stood there with a deep frown on his face. He was so close to breaking, so close to falling apart, from his guilt and his anger and his lack of sleep.

"I'm so so sorry," Draco whispered, gripping him tighter. "For everything. I didn't think that she'd target you. I just wanted to make you laugh. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, for the song, for hurting you."

"You're never allowed to use my cloak again," Harry said to avoid saying anything emotional. His emotions were already overloaded. He just wanted to sleep and forget about the entire quidditch match, detention, Umbridge.

"I'm so sorry," Draco said again, squeezing him tight enough to where Harry could barely breathe. To an onlooker, it'd just be weird, Harry standing there alone, stiff, and his clothes conforming to his body strangely. But thankfully it was night and there weren't many others around. "I don't want to hurt you."

After a few moments, Harry surrendered and relaxed, resting his head against Draco's, though not hugging him back. That'd look plain weird and would be absolutely unexplainable. "I know."

"I hate her," Draco choked.

"Me too."

"I'm going to turn her in to the ministry—"

"Don't you dare. You have to be on her side."

"Never."

"Then fake it. That's a stupid idea. She is the ministry."

Draco swallowed, defeated. "What can I do?"

"Give me back my cloak and let me go to bed. I'm exhausted."

Draco kissed his forehead before he released him and peeled off the cloak, revealing glossy eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry."

Harry looked directly at him. "It's okay. Maybe one day, we'll laugh about this."

Draco pressed his lips in a line, and though they both still felt awful, there was hope in those words of a better future, one where they'd learn from things like this. One where they knew each other's boundaries completely and fights like this didn't happen. After all, they were two kids with no indication of how relationships worked, no one they could solidly look up to, and were therefore only learning. There had to be forgiveness in that.

Maybe one day they'd have fights over one of them being lazy and the other being a control freak and they'd make up with flowers and chocolates.

They both had a feeling that day was too far away to think about.

They nodded at each other and Draco made his way back to his prefect post. Harry turned to the Fat Lady, who stared at him with a furrowed brow. He said the password before she could ask questions.

Harry expected the common room to be empty when he got back but white hot debate coming from the entire quidditch team stopped him in his tracks. They all sat among the red couches, icing their hands and treating each other with bandages. Hermione and Ginny leant up against one of the desks with furrowed brows.

"He's playing a trick, I wouldn't believe him."

"Like the snake has any remorse at all."

"He sounded genuine," Hermione called.

"Genuine my arse," Fred crossed his arms over his chest.

"What's going on," Harry asked, though he yearned for his bed. He tried reaching up to put pressure on his throbbing temples but he realized he still had his cloak with him and kept it folded in his arms behind his back.

"Malfoy apologized to the team. To everyone, really, even Hermione," Ginny said.

Harry furrowed his brow. "What? When?"

"A few minutes ago."

"What'd he say?"

"He said he regretted writing the song and would never use racial slurs again."

Harry looked at them wild. "What'd you all say?"

"We told him to tell you. He didn't say anything after that. Did he speak to you?"

"I didn't see him in the hall at all," he lied.

"Don't get so excited about it," George hissed. "It's probably because McGonagall put him up to it or something. I wouldn't trust a word he says."

"You shouldn't," Harry said carefully. "He's an arse."

"Maybe he's trying to get us all expelled," Fred said.

"Maybe it's a trap!"

"Everyone, check your robes." Ron was the first to start searching his pockets and the backs of others. "Maybe he hid dungbombs in them!"

Harry turned to Hermione and Ginny. "I'm going to bed," he said quietly. They both nodded and Harry gave a heavy sigh as he walked up the stairs, though he didn't get much sleep.

Harry received an owl the next morning.

Dinner tonight? Only if you'll have me.

Harry wrote back yes.