A/N: Probably the final part of this fic, unless I return in the future with more ideas. Hope you enjoy!

Draco decided before he had even been stuck for an hour that actually, he did hate Harry Potter.

First of all, he was fully fed up of professing his love for Potter every time he wanted to enter the Slytherin Dungeons; second of all, he was fed up of sleeping in such an uncomfortable bed, with Potter; thirdly, he was absolutely fed up of Potter himself.

And all of it was Potter's fault.

It all began in Charms.

So few students returned overall for their eighth year, they'd been put together in one slightly-larger-than-usual group for classes. This, of course, created problems with conflicting house rivalries and other problems with inter-house arguments; but none of the teachers wanted to split the class and deal with the eighth years for two hours.

So, Charms.

The class was split into sections, with very little merging.

The Slytherins at the far back of the classroom; a mix of the few Hufflepuffs and then the Gryffindors; and the Ravenclaws crowded at the front of the classroom.

The day of the incident, they had a cover teacher.

Flitwick was off (Merlin knew why) and the group had been given one of the newer teachers, employed after the war. The problem with these newer teachers was that most of them came for the opportunity to teach Potter.

And, therefore, they would do anything he commanded.

This one was one of the weak-willed pansies that bent to Potter's every will.

So much so that she asked Potter what to teach the class.

Draco was silently fuming in his spot next to Pansy, running a quiet string of insults towards Potter and the teacher as she snickered every so often at something he said. Potter, meanwhile, was deliberating what to choose.

"The sticking charm?"

Draco opened his mouth in outrage to protest, but Pansy quietly silenced him before he could cause a disruption.

The excuse of a teacher agreed with Potter immediately, obviously, and Draco prepared himself to spend an hour practicing something he'd mastered in first year. He wondered if he could cast the spell wordlessly. Since Pansy still hadn't un-silenced him, he supposed he'd find out.

The Golden Trio had somehow ended up in front of Draco when the students were picking seats. Well, not really. They'd arrived late to the class and the seats in front of Draco were the only ones left unoccupied. Now, Granger (sat in front of Blaise, a table over on Draco's left) stuck her hand up and asked, "Miss,"- Draco noticed the distinctly missing title of "Professor"; so he wasn't the only one who acknowledged that these teachers were idiots. "What will we be sticking together?"

"Um," the teacher said. Some Hufflepuff asked a different question and she turned away to answer them.

Granger threw her hands up in silent protest and anger, then muttered, "Fine. Guess I'll just stick everything."

"Ooh, that sounds fun," Pansy (on Draco's right) said. The two shared a little look, the way girls often did, and then stood up unanimously and made their way over to the door.

Potter watched them go, frowned, turned fully around, and asked Draco, "What's the incantation for the sticking charm, again?"

"Potter, you're kidding me." Draco said- or tried to. His mouth open, but no sound came out. Bloody Pansy.

He instead mimed writing with a quill, then gestured at Potter. He never took unnecessary items to class, and they rarely ever did writing now in eighth year; just spells. Potter withdrew a quill and a piece of parchment from his bag and handed them to Draco, who wrote,

Pansy silenced me. Can't talk.

Potter, honestly, you don't know the enchantment?

Potter read what he wrote. "Malfoy, your handwriting is so curly. Er, no, I don't know it. Did we ever even do a lesson on Sticking charms?"

We did two, you numbskull. And another two on Permanent sticking charms.

"Er, right. And, the incantation is..?"

Lignum Aeturnus.

"Right. What's the, er, wand movement?"

...

I see why you aren't a Ravenclaw. It's-

He paused writing, deliberating. Set the parchment down on the table- then realised that no, that was a stupid idea, he's have to get the parchment off later himself.

Give me your wand.

"What?!"

My wand worked fine for you, and this replacement one I have at the moment isn't as good. Yours will probably work better for me.

Potter's eyes widened. "Oh, shoot, I forgot to give your wand back. One sec- Accio Malfoy's wand!"

The two sat for a good twenty seconds before there was a yelp from outside. The door swung open, and in flew Draco's wand, as good as when he'd last seen it. Following it was Pansy.

"Why did your wand just nearly take my nose off?!" She asked. Potter sat there, holding Draco's wand in his hand, looking rather guilty. He hurriedly thrust the wand behind his back, putting on the worst it-wasn't-me facade Draco had ever seen. Pansy saw, and marched towards Potter, glaring. In an attempt to remove the condemning evidence from himself, Potter held the wand out to Draco behind his back. Draco took it; as he did, his fingers brushed Potter's. Pansy saw this, and shouted, "Lignum Aeturnus!"

Draco felt his hand going sticky, and then the warmth of Potter's hand seemed to increase tenfold. Draco snatched his wand with his other hand, pointed at his throat, and thought the counter-curse for the silencing charm as forcefully as he could. He then whirled on Pansy, who was now stood, triumphantly. "Pansy, you bint! What- that's the permanent sticking charm!"

Potter's face morphed into one of horror. "What?!" He whirled around to face Hermione, who'd walked in after Pansy, unnoticed. "It's not, is it?"

She gave him a pitiful smile that Draco could tell she didn't mean. "Sorry, Harry, it is."

So, in a desperate attempt, Harry turned back around to face Draco (pulling their attached hands over their heads) and said, "There's an antidote, right?"

"Yeah, thank Salazar. If there wasn't I might just have chopped my hand off. Wait. Shoot. No!"

Potter's face dropped. "What?" he asked, not seeming to want to know the answer.

Draco whacked his head down onto the desk, and looked mournfully at his hand, joined with Potter's. "It takes one month to brew, approximately, and another three to sit until it's non-toxic enough to drink," he groaned. Potter groaned along with him.

"It gets worse, Harry," Hermione interjected.

"No, it can't," Potter said.

"It can," Draco moaned. "The main ingredients can only be picked at the full moon, and I bet that Snape's supply is all out... When's the next full moon?"

"The last one was last night, actually."

"Five months?!" Potter exclaimed. "I can't stay stuck to Malfoy for- for nearly half a year!"

Draco stood up, dragging Potter with him. "Right, we're off. I can't get the ingredient needed to be collected by moonlight, but I can brew the rest of the potion up until it needs it. Come, Potter, and try not to get in the way too badly."

After Draco had decided that yes, he did hate Harry Potter, he was on the third attempt of the potion.

He and Potter didn't get to bed until after the tenth attempt had exploded. The eleventh, however, wasn't anywhere near as bad, and Draco deemed it passable.

Then came the problem of the bed.

Where to go?

The two argued (obviously) and came to the decision that they would sleep in Draco's bed every other night, and Potter's the rest of the time.

When they finally reached the dungeon entrance, Draco remembered what the password was.

No way was he saying that in front of Potter.

Being a good Slytherin, he came up with an entirely plausible excuse.

"Wait, Potter, I don't want you to know the password. You already stalk me enough when I'm not in there! Let's go sleep in your room."

"Oh, yeah. No. Good point, Malfoy, I don't want you knowing the password to the Gryffindor tower. Er... Let's ask McGonagall?"

Draco sighed. "Off we go, then."

"Swedish Fish," Potter told the gargoyle hiding the headmistress' office. It moved aside with a terrible screeching sound, revealing a long staircase. The two ascended at different paces; Potter was trying to take the steps three at a time, while Draco tried to take them one at a time. This resulted in the two tumbling over almost immediately. Draco wouldn't physically survive five months of this. He doubted he would stand five days.

The boys entered the office together about five minutes later, grumbling at each other and both nursing many bruises.

McGonagall wasn't even inside.

There was a perch, where a fully-feathered Fawkes trilled in greeting. On the desk was a considerably large jar on the desk, filled with- cat hairs?- and a box, which held a whole cat. Potter drew out a piece of parchment from his back pocket, muttered something at it, and opened it up. He frowned and said, "I don't understand. It says she's right here, on the desk."

Draco looked over at the cat again, remembering that McGonagall was a- what was it called? An animagus.

He stepped forward. The cat looked up at him lazily. "Professor?" he asked. The cat flicked its tail and curled back up. "Bit rude," Draco muttered.

"Well, most cats don't have manners, since they don't understand English, Mr. Malfoy," said McGonagall, stepping out from behind a bookshelf, holding a thick volume. "What did you need, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy?"

"A place to sleep," Potter said.

"Oh, has no one given you your room? Up the astronomy tower, the door at the back of the room. You'll find all of your belongings up there. You'll be staying for the next five months, and the classes we have now won't be doing stargazing until far later in the year. Wards are up, and you'll find all the commodities you might need up there already. Go on, then. I expect to see you both, in one piece, at breakfast tomorrow."

That was a warning- don't fight.

Draco had decided, after falling over Potter Merlin-knew-how-many-times on the way up the stairs, he would try and make peace with Potter so the next five months might actually be bearable already, though, so this was just encouragement.

Out of McGonagall's office, Draco turned to face Potter- as much as he could, considering their linked hands- and said, "To try and save us both from agony for the foreseeable future, I'm offering a restart. Not a truce, a full on re-do of everything. I'll start. Hello, my name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, I've grown up a lot more than people think since I was younger. You can call me Draco. Would you like to be my friend?"

Potter looked shocked. "Er, okay. Hello, I'm Harry Potter. Call me Harry. I'm far more human than everyone thinks, and I wake up with nightmares nearly every night. Um, sure, I'll be your friend."

Huh. Not the worst manners in the world. And he hadn't rejected Draco's offer immediately. Perhaps he could learn to live with Potter- Harry.

The astronomy tower itself was a struggle. The two just froze as soon as they reached the top of the staircase, looking at the place Dumbledore had fell. Potter- shoot, Harry- moved first.

"C'mon, Malfo- Draco," he said, tugging gently on Draco's hand.

Draco, however, was stuck. His eyes wouldn't move from the spot Dumbledore had implored him to join the Light; his mind wouldn't move from the moment.

Eventually, Pot- Harry pulled Draco hard enough to get him to move, though his feet felt planted to the ground.

The two didn't speak to each other the rest of the night as they got themselves ready for and into bed.

When they walked into the Great Hall the next morning, there was an uproar.

People were just shouting in general, creating chaos and a cacophony of wild noise. When it didn't stop after a full three minutes, Draco decided he'd had enough. He turned around, marched out of the hall, dragging Harry along behind him, and headed off to the kitchens, where he ate a peaceful breakfast. No, he didn't spill his tea over himself because he was drinking left-handed and he was right-handed; no matter what Pott- Harry- thought he saw. Delusional, he was.

Meanwhile, the Slytherins and Gryffindors found they were rather missing their two main leaders.

Draco went back and forth between the more positive mindset of perhaps I can learn to stand you and the one of if you don't stop breathing I will choke you myself so often the Slytherins started making a tally. They were bored without Draco providing entertainment and frustration; what were they supposed to do?

Harry also went back and forth between emotions faster than you could blink, especially after a nightmare when he was extra paranoid and vulnerable and defensive. All at the same time. The Gryffindors bored without him started a tally, too; they kept track of how many emotions Harry went through in one day, seeing who could record the highest amount. Draco ended up joining this competition when he heard about it; being with Harry all day, he obviously beat all the Gryffindors. Harry, in retaliation, joined the Slytherin's competition; thus, small inter-house friendships began to form.

Slowly, more Gryffindors started comparing their tallies and results with the Slytherins; the Slytherins started gravitating towards the Gryffindor tally-record-holder and, by extension, the Gryffindor table, at breaks and lunches. Both houses soon found that they had more common ground than just the tally competitions; they were both absolutely fed up of Potter and Malfoy whining and pining after one another every day.

When they weren't told off for moving tables- in fact, they were encouraged to- a few other students stood and moved to other tables. Siblings, or childhood friends, separated by the Sorting Hat.

The next day, even more students moved.

The third day, the students walked into the Great Hall and found that the tables were all moved into a big square; there were a few gaps between the tables, so students could sit on both sides of the table of their choosing; up above, house banners had been replaced with the Hogwarts crest and motto- Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.

By this time, the students had grown slightly used to the biggest nemesi of the school going around hand-in-hand, so Draco and Harry had started eating in the Hall again.

When Draco walked into the hall, before he even noticed the table arrangements, he nudged Potter and pointed at a banner. "Look, Po- Harry, it's my name. The Hogwarts motto is based on me, did you know," he said.

"What does the whole inscription mean?"

"Don't get on Draco's bad side," Draco said boastfully. They'd arrived at the square arrangement of the tables, and sat next to each other.

"As if," Harry replied, but there was the slightest note of doubt in his voice. Obviously he hadn't read Hogwarts, A History (the uncultured swine that he was), so Draco pushed it.

"Yeah, Salazar Slytherin had some vision of me, when he was making the school-"

Pansy, seating herself beside Draco, and Hermione, sitting across from Harry, both said, "Yeah, right. Anyone who knows anything knows that it means Never tickle a sleeping Dragon."

Potter frowned (he did that when he was confused; he was confused an awful lot of the time). "Draco, your name means Dragon?"

"Oh, Merlin. Harry- yes, obviously. What else would it mean?"

"I- I don't know. My name is common, doesn't really mean anything-"

"What? Harry, have I never told you what your name means?" Granger- Hermione, she'd told Draco to call her- asked.

Harry groaned, along with Weasley- Ron- sat next to him, but shook his head.

"Well, in-"

"Oh, Granger, you'll talk so much he won't even listen. Potter, your name can mean lion in some languages; or ruler; sometimes hero, too. Guess you were really meant to be the Saviour and a Gryffindor, then."

This was followed by talk of names and meanings; Grang- Hermione summoned a book after about ten minutes, and would ask it a name, and it would come up with a definition. Suddenly, everyone wanted to know the meaning of their name. Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Slytherins and Gryffindors crowded around the little corner-section of the four tables for the rest of breakfast; their next classes were spent comparing names and meanings.

Other little bits and bobs of conversation drew the houses together more and more; common ground found between them created a bridge and strengthened newly-made ties between the houses.

McGonagall watched on with a proud smile; in every major conversation that drew the houses together, Draco and Harry were in the center of it, without even meaning to be. Ruler, lion, hero, and dragon indeed.

While the houses bonded, Draco was working on the potion. It was tough, having a useless body attached to your dominant hand, but Draco managed. Potter was even occasionally helpful; having his dominant hand free, he could do thing like more precise cutting. He wouldn't shut up, though, constantly on about what was going on and what he was thinking. Still, the potion was now ready to sit and brew for three months; Draco had added the ingredient that grew only by moonlight, and he should only have to wait a while longer until he could separate from Harry.

While attached to him, he had gained a certain sort of... fondness for him, though. He was such an idiot, so oblivious... Actually, no, that was just annoying. But he was far better as a friend than he was as an arch-nemesis.

The next three months passed in a blur. There were fights, obviously, and smaller arguments, and even one near-duel; a few jelly-legs jinxes, too, but most against common enemies of the boys.

They found they worked rather well together, in fact. Their weaknesses and strengths nicely contrasted and matched; potions and DADA they were very much terrible and brilliant at individually. They were scared and smart and brave and ignorant and hated and loved. Working together, and helping each other, they actually got the two highest grades in the year on average; on par with Hermione, who was doing even better than usual seeing as she was only coaching Ron and not Harry too; also, Ron was excelling, now he had Hermione's sole focus. And, not having Draco and Harry being distracting every lesson, the rest of eighth year was getting better and better, too.

The date of the potions' finish was drawing nearer.

Harry and Draco had come so far they might even have called each other friends.

They'd certainly been through a lot.

Draco had asked Harry for a fresh start; unfortunately, that wasn't wholly possible with both of them waking up from nightmares every other night, waking the other up with their struggling, and the nightmares being about the past.

Eventually, they sat down and had their talk.

"Harry, we need to talk about what we've been through," Draco said.

Harry had sighed. He'd known this was coming, but had still hoped to avoid it. "Yeah, I guess so. Where do we start?"

"Um, apologies, I suppose. I have already apologised to everyone else properly, but- there's just so much with you that I never wanted to approach the subject.

I'm sorry for insulting your parents, your parental figures, your friends, your mentors. I'm sorry for betraying you and all of your friends by joining Voldemort. I'm sorry for- the bathroom incident. In fact, I'm sorry for all of sixth year.

I'm sorry for being so horrible to you, even though all you did was reject my friendship, and it was because I really was a brat back then. I'm sorry for my prejudices and my anger and the arguments.

I am so, so sorry about this," he brushed his hand over where Harry's scar was, raised skin on his forehead, "And I know I couldn't have done anything to stop it, but I should've known it was terrible to be you. I'm sorry for being envious of your fame, I'm sorry for wanting what you have. I'm sorry for this, too," he said, brushing his fingers over the raised skin on Harry's hand that he received from detentions with Umbridge. "I'm sorry for the Inquisitorial Squad; and the DA; and for your Godfather. I'm sorry for hating the Weasleys because they loved you, and they showed it. I'm sorry for- I'm sorry for everything from the past seven years, pretty much," he finished, looking away and playing with his fingers.

Harry reached out, enclosed Draco's hands in his, stopping his fidgeting. "Hey," he said, tilting Draco's chin up with the hand not linked to Draco's; when Draco's eyes met his, he smiled softly. "I forgave you for all of that a long time ago, Draco. And I have lots to be sorry for, too." The smile slipped off his face, replaced by a more serious expression. He didn't look away from Draco as he continued. "I'm sorry for judging you and hating you for only knowing one way of life; I'm sorry for never trying to see from your perspective, I'm sorry for never understanding that what you believed in was the only thing you knew.

I'm sorry for judging and hating your family, for being so quick to hate you. I'm sorry for believing in one opinion I heard and hating a whole quarter of Hogwarts because of it.

I'm sorry about the war; I'm sorry about you having to choose between your family and being a murderer and dying. I'm sorry I didn't try to offer you help of protection or any other way you could have escaped.

I'm sorry for the fiendfyre; for the deaths of anyone who you knew and held dear. I know that not many people get affection from you... I'm sorry for those who did that are- that are dead.

I'm sorry I stalked you for all that time; I'm so, so sorry for these," he brushed his hand lightly down the front of Draco's shirt, where his faint scars from the Sectumsempra curse lay hidden; Draco startled, and Harry smiled sadly. "Yeah, I've seen. I am literally joined to you, Draco." His sad smile turned into a sad, hesitant expression. "I'm sorry for this, too," he said quietly, brushing the tips of his fingers over the top of where the Mark lay, dormant, on Draco's forearm.

They sat in silence a while, and then Draco said, "Thank you, Harry. I accept your apology. I hope you know that."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I hope you know that I accept yours, too. Thank you, Draco."

The potion finally finished.

Draco poured the solution over his hand and Harry's.

A jolt of cold shot up his arm when he let go, and he immediately missed the warmth of Harry's hand; it'd become so normal in his life. He shivered, and saw Harry was doing the same, holding his hand close to his chest to try and warm it up.

He watched for a few moments, and then-

very, very hesitantly-

he reached out

palm facing upwards

for Harry's hand.

Harry looked down,

and,

after only a moment,

took Draco's hand in his.

They walked into the Great Hall holding hands properly, and this time the uproar and the warmth in Draco's hand brought a smile to his face.