As Draco had thought he would, Harry had taken a few precious moments in the Room to be confused. He stared at the spot Draco had been stood, then turned to look at the door, now closing slowly behind him He heard feet pounding on the stone tiles, heard them echo more and more quietly as they receded.

Then it hit Harry that Draco was gone, running away from him, and was probably going to keep running until he was far away unless Harry stopped him. So Harry ran.

He sprinted out of the Room and down the hallway, following the faintest echo of the footsteps; followed them until they stopped abruptly. Harry ran harder, bursting out of the main doors and onto the grounds; the sun blinded him for a moment. The fields were clear as far as Harry could see; everyone was in class. He squinted, looking around wildly for a head of white-blond hair, glinting in the afternoon sunlight. He saw nothing. Surely Draco couldn't have gotten away that quickly? Not without Disapparating, and you can't Disapparate on Hogwarts grounds. Harry knew that from the many lectures from Hermione. But he'd never find Draco by himself...

He sat down on the stone steps, frowning.

He heard a crinkle of paper.

The Marauders' Map! How could he have forgotten? He pulled it out, unfolding it with an "I Solemnly Swear I am Up to No Good," scanning the parchment for 'Draco Malfoy' even as the ink spread, painting the map of Hogwarts he'd pored over for hours at a time, searching for the very name he was looking for now. When the map had fully unfolded, Harry frowned.

Draco Malfoy wasn't on the map.

Had he left Hogwarts grounds? No, he wouldn't, it was dangerous outside of Hogwarts. With any magical beasts roaming the countryside, you never knew what you could encounter. He wouldn't leave Hogwarts unless he was really trying to escape. Why had he even run in the first place? Harry had just been asking him if he'd been eating... Harry tried to recall what had happened.

He'd asked Draco- using his first name, rather than Malfoy- whether he'd eaten... Draco had said- hold on, when had he become Draco? That didn't matter. Well, Draco- it sounded far too natural in Harry's mind- had told Harry that he hadn't, not since the last time Harry had cooked- and then Harry frowned as he remembered feeling incredibly angry- at himself, for not making sure Draco was eating; it was, after all, why he'd been cooking lunch for Draco. He got so caught up in his work, he forgot to eat. So Harry had been angry at himself for forgetting to feed Draco, and then he'd seen something new in Draco's eyes. Just a flicker of an emotion, but- what was it? Wait, it wasn't entirely new.

With a jolt of realisation- and horror- Harry realised what the look had been. Fear. Fear of Harry. And the last time Harry had seen that fear, directed towards himself- Draco had nearly bled out on the floor of the girls' bathroom.

Oh, no.

Harry had messed up.

Well, he was going to fix it.

First things first- where had Draco gone? Where would he have gone? Somewhere away from Harry, somewhere he thought Harry couldn't find him... Somewhere under a Fidelius charm, then? Unplottable, too. Being who he was, he probably wanted comfort... His father was in Azkaban, and his mother was at Malfoy Manor, where Draco would know Harry would go to look. So Harry mentally crossed Malfoy Manor off the list of places Draco could be.

Still, he wanted comfort. Who would he go to for that? His friends were all here at Hogwarts, and he'd show up on the map if he was here. His family was already out of the picture... Well, most of them. Wasn't Draco related to the Black family? His mother was Sirius' sister, or something... Harry was pretty sure he'd seen Draco on the Black family tree back at Grimmauld Place. So maybe he'd go to a Black? Who was left?

Bellatrix was- well, even Draco wouldn't go to her, if he could. Andromeda was viewed as a blood traitor by the rest of the family... Where else could someone be? Where would a sole survivor of the Black family go to?

Oh, yeah.

Grimmauld Place.

The Black family home.

Harry rushed up to McGonagall's office with a brief "Hello," to Dumbledore, Snape, and Fawkes. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and called out "Grimmauld Place!" as he stepped into the fire.

. . .

Draco, meanwhile, was re-discovering Grimmauld Place- tentatively, slowly, being wary of the potentially dark artefacts that were surely scattered around the house. He went through the kitchen first; then the living room; the staircase, the bedrooms at the top. One seemed far too messy to be of the House of Black; it was full of scratch marks like the one that big brute Buckbeak had left on Draco's arm. Then again, Draco discovered a room full of pictures of someone who looked almost identical to Potter- James Potter, he supposed- and some others. The name plaque read, "Sirius Black". He was Narcissa's sister; his uncle. He'd been somewhat of a disgrace; a male heir, but sorted into Gryffindor, befriending blood traitors and muggleborns... Draco supposed this room was his personal rebellion to the Black name, in the family's own house.

His brother, however, had been hailed among the children of Walburga. Regulus Black. He'd joined Voldemort incredibly young, and died very young, too. Draco passed his room quickly.

Draco encountered an incredibly large library, too; when he tried to take a heavy tome from the shelf, though, another- even larger one- fell off the shelf, slamming into the floor.

From below him began an unbearable screeching.

"Intruders!" it screamed. "Intruders in the noble house of Black!"

Draco made his way downstairs cautiously.' On the wall of the entryway hall, a large blanket had been thrown off to reveal a portrait- the source of the screeching. The label read, Walburga Black. She looked up, spotted Draco, and promptly stopped screaming.

"Oh, Draco dear. I haven't seen you in such a long time. How have you been? How's my Cissy?"

"We're both well, thank you. Yourself?"

She glowered. "I am glad to hear you are well, but I, myself, am struggling. Not only have I and this house been abandoned- we have been taken up by- by mudbloods and blood-traitors and- even worse- Gryffindors. How could this have happened? Draco, why did you and your mother let this happen? That traitor of a son- Sirius-" She spat his name out like it was poisonous- "Has entirely disregarded his heritage, his family- me! And then that godson of his, the Potter boy-" Draco stiffened. Potter? Godson of Sirius Black?- "He just comes strolling in," Potter had been in Grimmauld Place?! "Ruining our home, bewitching poor Regulus' house elf, continuing to let our home fall into ruin- disgraceful, honestly! Draco, dear, you're in his year, aren't you? Could you possibly hurt him- or just immobilise him? Just a little? Just a- Holy Merlin! Draco! Draco!" She screeched, pointing behind Draco.

Draco turned around.

Holy Merlin indeed.

There stood Potter, ashes in his hair, eyes bright and defiant.