[Harry]

It was sunset when Harry was poked awake by something sharp. It was the beak of a brown owl hooting softly down at him. He must've forgotten to close the window and also cried himself into a nap.

Pushing himself upright groggily, he stared at the owl. He did not recognize her. The owl lifted up her claw. Harry gingerly untied the parchment only to see Ginny's handwriting but incredibly sloppy.

Dear Harry,

I sent Choc as soon as I saw the Prophet. I'm so, so sorry. I was writing to you in the dorm and my bastard chaser partner Wendy Mauvais spied behind my back and ratted it out to Skeeter for money. Coach had her sacked, she is not to return forever. I'm in Scotland now, I really hope you see this before anything happens... I'm so sorry, Harry, please don't be mad. I'll fly back to address the public with you if you need to, Coach'll be a little touchy but he'll understand. I'm really sorry, Harry.

Gin

Harry blinked and reread it. He read it three times before the words finally sank in. It wasn't Draco, he had kept his word. And he blamed him for it.

He gasped and ran into his room for fresh parchment.

Ron & Mione,

It's Ginny. Her partner oversaw what she was writing to me and babbled to Skeeter. It's not Malfoy. Please don't kill him yet.

Harry

Gin,

It's okay, you don't have to come back. I'll deal with it eventually. I'm glad she was sacked; she was awful anyways. I'll write more tomorrow, I kind of blamed it on someone else and I'm in a hurry. Eat healthy and get loads of sleep. Take care. X

Love, Harry

With one note tied to Choc and the other tied to his own owl, Tonks, he watched them fly out the window and started racing across his bedroom.

"Clean clothes... shoes... socks, socks, where are my damn socks?!"

In a whirling minute, he was ready, tear-stain-less. His guts were writhing uncomfortably in his stomach. With a sharp inhale and a crack, he appeared in front of the familiar mansion.

[Draco]

He thought Harry would trust him enough to know it wasn't him.

I'm being ridiculous. Of course he would think it was him. After all, Harry hated him for seven years and Draco admitted that he had been an immature git. Even with the truce and a long talk, it was only reasonable he blamed him.

But that didn't ease the hurt.

He bit into his third comfort croissant (extra butter and cream) and tasted salt. He realized he was crying.

It shook him. Tears rarely left his eyes. Even during sixth year with all the panic attacks, he scarcely cried- and only beside Myrtle.

He was utterly disappointed at himself but allowed himself to grieve. Even though it was stupid. Extremely stupid. They had barely started to connect and he was crying because he didn't trust him?

He repeatedly told himself to get a grip but failed. His dining table was soon scattered with croissant wrappers.

Draco sulked for the entire day on one of his couches. He nearly had his body outline imprinted on it when he heard a faint knock.

He sat up. Odd. He wasn't supposed to see Blaise until next week. Maybe Blaise decided to pop by after work. I could use a drink.

He headed towards the door, not bothering to tidy up himself. Blaise never interrogated him like Pansy used to before their huge fight after the war.

As the door swung open, he stilled.

"Hey," said Harry.