We Found Love in a Hopeless Place

When Harry entered the wing of St. Mungo's the his old classmate happen to be, he couldn't help but to get slightly tense. Were his parents going to be there again? It wasn't that Harry had a problem seeing other people's parents. No. It wasn't that at all. It was seeing the Malfoy parents. Sure, they had helped him survive the war and he had helped them to stay out of Azkaban. But there were years and years of hatred for each other. Narcissa was getting on well for her son's sake, not wanting to stress him. But Lucius lacked the ability to act civil towards Harry Potter.

"Oh, excuse me," Harry spoke quickly to a Healer passing by.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Potter?" There was still not a witch or wizard who didn't recognize him.

"Malfoy's parents—do they happen to be here?"

"No, sir."

"Alright, thank you." Harry smiled slightly to himself as he took off the same exact jacket he had been wearing yesterday and draped it over his left forearm.

Knock.

"Potter, if that's you, you better leave." A sour voice pervaded from the room before him.

"How're you feeling today?" He questioned as he ignored the patient and opened the door, quietly closing it behind him. He walked over to the same chair he sat in yesterday, not even bothering to ask the other if it was alright to sit down. Harry mostly disregarded anything negative young Malfoy had to say and acted as if it were nothing but a mere whisper in the wind.

"Does it look like I feel any better to you today?" Draco's lips formed instantly into a frown. Potter examined the old schoolmate. No, he really didn't look any better. There were still dark circles around Draco's eyes, his skin still as pale as ever and nothing but sadness was radiating from him. Harry also noticed the necklace-looking bruise that the rope had left around Draco's neck. For some reason, Harry had the urge to reach out and touch it gently.

"Malfoy.."

"Potter."

"Why did you do it?" He let slip out without meaning to while subconsciously touching his own neck in the same place that Malfoy's was bruised.

"Out."

"What?"

"Get out!"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's not my place to ask."

"You're right, it's not." Draco spat as his eyes wandered over to the window that was on the wall next to him. He took a slow breath in and, just as slowly, he let it out. He couldn't let the tears spill. Not in front of Potter. Especially not in front of Potter. He rather have his bullocks cut off than cry in front of Potter.

While gazing at Malfoy, Harry seemed to notice the glossy look in his eyes. Tears threatening to spill. Harry wasn't stupid. Eventually, his green hues travelled to the same place at Malfoy's. The two sat in silence for what seemed forever.

"You can stay if I can ask you something."

The auror instantly froze up. The first thoughts that popped into his head was that Malfoy was going to ask him questions about the war. Even though Harry didn't really have a problem with talking about it with curious people, he didn't know how comfortable he would be with talking about the war with a former Death Eater even if he didn't hate the man. "Sure," his eyes stayed on the window that showed the busy city of London.

"I'm curious. Why did you ask the Weaselette to marry you? I didn't picture you a bloke who would tie himself down so young."

"You're going to take this piss for this."

Draco's eyes that had stared through the window so long, finally looked over to see the hero of the Wizarding World. "If you want to stay, keep talking, Potty."

"I didn't ask her."

"What?"

"She asked me."

Draco stared for a few moments before bursting out laughing. The first time in about a year that Draco had truly laughed. "This is rich. The great doesn't have the bullocks to ask his girlfriend," he spat with disgust laced into the word, "to marry him? She has to ask?"

"My bullocks are quite big, thank you."

"Potter," his curled with disgust, "I don't want to know the size of your package."

"Jealous, are we?"

"Stop talking like we're mates. We're not mates and we never will be."

Harry finally decided to look at the man before him. "As sad as that is Malfoy, I was the one who put my name out there to keep you alive and out of Azkaban."

"What is this?" Draco began, a huge scowl on his face, "your attempt to make me feel bad and open up and decided why I tried to hang myself? I think you have a higher chance of me sucking your knob off."

Harry raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth trying not to curl into a smirk, "bent, Malfoy?"

"You wish, Potter."

At that, Harry let out a small laugh. Imagine if Malfoy was bent, he told himself. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, his attention grabbed the clock. "Oh, bloody hell. I've got to go. I've got to get back to the office, we have to do a raid."

"Good, I didn't want you here anyways, Potter." Malfoy rubbed the back of his neck where it connected to his back as it was a bit sore from sitting up all day. He moved so he was laying down on his side, his hues back on the window, wishing he could be in the outside world.

"Maybe I'll come back after the raid."

"Don't you have your fiancée to get back to?"

"I'll see you tomorrow around the same time then, yeah?" Harry stood up and put his coat back on. When he had reached the door, Malfoy spoke once more. His voice cold, yet Harry could still tell how fragile he was.

"Why do you care so much that a former Death Eater tried to kill himself? We're enemies."

"Were." Harry smiled slightly, but Malfoy couldn't see as Harry was gripping the doorknob, his back facing the other.

"What?"

"You're not an enemy of mine, not anymore, Malfoy."

"Why's that?" The blond demanded.

"You're not nearly as evil as you think you are.." Harry had almost called the other by his first name. Good thing he had caught himself before he had. That would had been just awful and awkward. The thought that didn't leave his mind was, why did he almost call the infamous former Death Eater by his name? Was it because he wanted to consider them friends or perhaps it was because he felt bad for him. Yes, Harry concluded, it was because he felt bad for him.