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Family Means More Than Blood	By : WingsofaDream Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 59825 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its associated characters are property of J K Rowling, not me. This story is not being written for profit, just for the lols.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
14th November 1991: Morning

Harry stared down at his plate of bacon, scrambled egg, sausages and hashbrowns and felt his stomach turn unpleasantly. With a slight groan of distaste, he pushed the plate away from himself as he turned his head to the side so he no longer had to look at the sickening pile of greasy, meaty breakfast. He considered taking a sip of pumpkin juice but decided against it; his stomach would probably would appreciate it.

It was the day of Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the school year and Harry was completely petrified. His first real match and, worst of all, it was against Slytherin. Of all the Houses, his first match had to be against Slytherin. Why? Did Madam Hooch enjoy seeing him sweat? Or maybe it was Fate who did seem to have somewhat of a grudge against him anyway. And what made playing against Slytherin worse was that it meant he would be playing against Draco who was still a Beater. Draco hated to lose intensely and Harry was sure that if Slytherin lost, the blond would not be speaking to him until Christmas at least.

"Have a piece of toast, mate." George coaxed suddenly, bringing Harry out of this thoughts.

The dark haired boy glanced at the heavily buttered triangle of toasted bread and felt his stomach protest once again. With a small shake of his head, he waved the offered food away with one hand as the other came up to cover his mouth.

"C'mon Harry, you need to eat something, keep your strength up and all." Fred advised as he popped a bit of black pudding into his mouth which almost did the trick of making Harry throw up what little he had already consumed.

"I seriously don't think my stomach will take anything guys, especially with you chomping away on that...Stuff."

"Gotta agree with Harry there, Fred; I don't know how you can eat that."

"What's wrong with black pudding? It just tastes like sausage."

"Yeah, but you do know why it's black right? And why there are those little flecks of white in it."

"Course I do. So?"

"So? So, it doesn't bother you that your eating pork mixed with pig blood and pig fat?"

"Oh Goddess..." Harry moaned as he buried his face in his hands, his stomach once again lurching nauseatingly.

"It's not like it's poison, George." Fred said reasonably, totally missing Harry's moan of distress. "It's properly cooked and all stuff that's safe. You're just being fussy."

"Well if not wanting to eat blood and fat makes me fussy..." George began to say but was cut off when Harry suddenly got to his feet and climbed over the bench they were sitting on. "Harry?"

"I'm sorry but if you two have to keep talking about black pudding then I can't sit here. I'm going to go and have a lay down, try and calm my nerves before the match; see you out there." He ended quickly before he dashed off out of the Great Hall.

Harry had not got much further than a dozen feet from the entrance to the Great Hall however when he came to a stop as he was confronted by the sight of Draco and his gaggle of hangers-on including one Bethany Zabini who was hanging off of the blond's arm. Draco was already dressed in his Quidditch robes minus all the protective padding obviously. None of them had noticed Harry and he wanted to try and keep it that way; the last thing he needed was a confrontation with Draco at that moment. Luck obviously was not at his side however as no sooner had he thought that thought than Draco's eyes fixed with his and he was well and truly noticed.

Draco instantly yanked his arm out of Bethany's grasp like her touch was burning upon realising Harry's presence and returned the glare she sent him with full force. By some sort of super Slytherin psychic telepathy trick (or something like that) Draco's friends carried on walking as he came to a stop. Bethany took a little longer to go, standing around pouting for a little while before giving up and stalking into the Great Hall, shooting Harry a dirty look as she went past him. The Gryffindor paid her no mind though, far more focused on the on-coming encounter with his best friend and, for today, Quidditch rival.

"You look pale." Draco noted in a casual tone.

"It's just nerves. Well, and the fact that Fred and George were discussing the properties of black pudding in fine detail."

"Sensitive and understanding as usual." Draco sneered, his tone oozing sarcasm.

Harry shook his head a little and gave another small laugh.

"You're not dressed in your Quidditch robes yet."

"Uh, no, I was, I was going to go and get changed now. And have a lie down."

"Probably a good idea; help to settle your nerves." The Slytherin said with an approving nod. Harry gave a small nod at that which faded slightly when Draco started forward. A few steps later and the two boys were only a mere inch or so apart. "Quidditch is a rough game at the best of times so I want you to be careful out there."

Harry could not help but role his eyes. "Yes, Father."

Draco grinned in response as he stepped around his best friend, playfully nudging his shoulder with his own as he passed. "See you on the field, Snape." He threw over his shoulder as he swaggered away, moving into the Great Hall.

Harry watched him go with a small smile on his face before turning back to face forward and continuing onto the Gryffindor Tower.

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14th November 1991: Mid-Morning

Harry's heart was pounding like never before. He had never been so scared, not even when he had come face to face with Voldemort when he was only nine. He stood next to Oliver Wood, waiting for the sign to fly out and the match to begin. The other four Quidditch players were behind him, Fred and George directly so, each of them looking suitably serious though they still held an playfulness about them. That was little comfort though.

"Nervous, Harry?" Oliver asked easily, obviously recognising the Third Year's apprehension.

"A little." Harry managed to squeak out, his eyes not leaving the wooden panel in front of them which would soon slide away to allow them to fly out onto the field.

"Ah, don't worry, you'll be fine. Everyone's nervous before their first game; even me."

"Yeah? What was your first game like then?"

"Erm...To be honest, I can't quite remember; took a bludger to the head about two minutes in. Woke up in hospital a week later." Oliver told him quite cheerfully, as if it had been a rather jolly experience.

Harry's eyes widened in horror and his head snapped back to attention so he was staring ahead of himself stiffly. If he had not been nervous before, he was now. He was going to end up in the Infirmary, he just knew it.

Though when the match began and he was actually playing, Harry immediately wondered why he worried so. As long as a distance was kept from everyone else and enough attention was paid to what was going on, a Seeker could remain pretty much unscathed. Yes, he had a very up-close and personal confrontation with a bludger at one point but that had not been particularly noteworthy. So despite not having even caught a glimpse of the snitch yet, Harry was having fun and was feeling surprisingly relaxed. The fact that Gryffindor were currently leading by several points was probably the reason for the degree of calm he felt though he was not completely sure how many they were leading by as he was concentrating more on trying to spot the snitch than the commentary or where the quaffle was.

His focus eventually paid off as he caught sight of a glint of gold flash a few feet away from where he was. He did not hesitate in darting off after it but things did not run at all smoothly. He had moved no more than a few metres before his broom suddenly jerked to a stop, almost throwing him off. Before he could even wonder what it was he had done wrong, the broom began to jerk around erratically: back and forth and up and down.

With a startled cry, Harry was abruptly bucked off of his broom violently and he only just managed to keep hold of it with one hand. A startled gasp came from most of the audience but it was merely a background sound for him, nothing to concentrate on especially as he had a rather more urgent situation to focus on at that moment. His broom was still jerking around erratically, too much so for him to even think about trying to hoist himself back up onto it. The most he could do at that moment was hold of for dear life and simply pray that whatever it was that was wrong with the broom was only a passing problem and would eventually stop.

The amount of time which passed was very hard to measure but it could not have been too long as Harry did manage to hold on. Finally, the broom returned to normal and stopped jerking around so violently. A puff of relief left the dangling boy in a whoosh before he began to try and get back up on it. It was in no way an easy thing to do but he managed it and a cheer rose up when he was once again seated astride his broom. He wasted no time in resuming his search for the snitch, once again shooting off in a random direction.

Harry sent Draco an encouraging and reassuring smile as he flashed past him and noticed the concerned frown on the blond's face. It was while he was sending his best friend that smile that he saw the glint of gold in the distance. He recognised it immediately and shot off after it, having to take a sharp corner and manoeuvre himself so he went underneath Draco's broom. It was a narrow pass but Harry managed to pull it off with only an inch of a gap between them and not startling the Slytherin Beater off of his broom.

"Haryon Snape has spotted the snitch!" The voice of Lee Jordan rang out and a great cheer came up from Gryffindor. Harry only frowned a little; did he have to announce it to the other Seeker like that?

As the snitch reared up, so did Harry and it was also at that moment that the Slytherin Seeker caught up to him. Seconds later, Harry winced as an elbow was jabbed into his side and he sent a scathing glare at the other Seeker. It was moments such at this that he really wished he was not a pacifist. He managed to dodge the next shove the Slytherin beside him sent his way and that was when the snitch decided it wanted to go down now. Two two Seekers copied it and fell into a nose-dive towards the descending golden ball. The snitch showed no signs of letting up or turning of anything and the ground was beginning to get a lot closer very quickly. It had turned into a Wizarding version of Chicken.

Harry frowned in determination; there was no way he was going to give in first if only to get back at the Slytherin Seeker for all the elbows. And, as luck would have it, he won the small game within the bigger game; with a glance at Harry, the Slytherin Seeker pulled out of the dive, leaving the Gryffindor to pursue the snitch on his own. A bright grin of triumph spread across the dark haired boy's face; surely there was nothing that was going to stop him now.

The snitch curved and began to fly horizontally, only about a foot or so above the ground. Harry copied it with an ease and precision which was astounding for someone who everyone thought was a rather inexperienced player. He stretched his arm out as much as possible but it was not quite enough and he so desperately wanted to catch it now, when it was right in front of him and he had no pressure for the opposition's Seeker. It was possible but he would have to take a risk for it. He was pretty confident though, he knew he could do it.

It happened in nothing more than a second. One moment Harry was still up on his broom, reaching for the snitch which was fluttering so close to his finger-tips that he could feel the soft waves of air it created against the skin. The next moment, he had toppled off of the broom, rolled completely in mid-air and then landed on the ground quite roughly on his backside. The crowd was silent as he landed and then managed to stagger onto his feet, his lower back throbbing rather painfully. Then, when he brought his hand up to his mouth, the snitch fell out of it with a soft pop and the crowd absolutely exploded.

Harry smiled down at the snitch in his palm in satisfaction, un-phased by the deafening applause and the chants of "Go, go Gryffindor!" He had won the game for his House team. He had actually managed to do it! His first game ever. It was just...Just so wow. The only thing which tore his gaze away from the golden ball in the palm of his hand was the joint call of his name from Fred and George seconds before they dove at him, sending all three of them sprawling onto the ground.

"That was absolutely the most fantastic thing ever!" George yelled ecstatically, ruffling Harry's hair and totally messing up the top of his neat braid.

Fred paused all their wiggling and took Harry's face in between his hands so that they had to look into each other's eyes. "You are so bloody awesome!" He announced proudly before smacking a big kiss on the Seeker's forehead causing him to blush bright red but the happy smile was still wide across his face.

"Nice job Harry." Oliver called down to them from up in the air.

"Thanks" Harry called back, waving to him from underneath Fred and George who were still on top of him. "Erm, guys? Not that I don't appreciate the enthusiasm but do you think you could get off? You're kinda crushing me."

"Fine." Fred said with a small sigh which was supposed to sound serious but was totally ruined by the happy glittering of his eyes.

"Only because you won us the match though." George teased as he too got to his feet and then reached down with his brother to pull their friend up.

"I thought the only reason you on laying on me in the first place was because I won the match?"

"Maybe we should get back on top of you then?"

"No, no, that's all right, no need to do that."

The twins kept their word, they did not pounce on Harry again. However, they did something equally embarrassing instead; they picked him up quite easily and settled him on each of their shoulders before parading him around much to the joy of the whole of Gryffindor House. There were four people though who were not so enthusiastic: Hermione; Potter; Severus; and Draco.

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14th November 1991: Evening

Harry watched with a heavy heart and no small amount of annoyance as Draco stalked away from him angrily. They had just had a massive fight, as the dark haired boy had previously predicted they would. Although it had been extremely difficult not to just cave in during the fight with his oldest friend, he had not been about to apologise for something that needed no apology. What had Draco honestly expected? For him to throw the match? That was so unlike Draco; the blond despised any form of charity if it was sent his way. Also, Harry had got the distinct impression that the match was not even what the Slytherin was angry about. Sure, he had used it for ammunition but most of the comments had been related to Fred and George which did not make sense. Was Draco jealous that his friends had gone a bit over-board with their celebrating with him? Did the blond wish his friends were like that with him or perhaps he wished he, himself, could be that way with Harry?

With a tired sigh, Harry gave a small shake of his head before turning and continuing into the Great Hall for his dinner which was what he had been doing before Draco had pulled him aside to initiate their little "discussion". At least the Slytherin had flounced off back to the dungeons apparently as he had gone the opposite direction to the doors which led into the Great Hall. Harry did not much like the idea of suffering from the sensation of someone glaring at his back the entire duration of the meal.

Fred and George were already seated when Harry reached them and they had saved him a seat to the right of one of them. He joined them with a small sigh, plonking down heavily on the wooden bench before promptly leaning forward and supporting his forehead in the palms of his hands. "Didn't go so well with Malfoy then, eh?" George, who Harry was sitting next to, asked sympathetically.

"At least it wasn't like I wasn't expecting it." Harry sighed again, lifting his head slightly and rubbing his forehead a couple of times. "I just don't know why he has to be this way. What did he want me to do? Throw the game just to make him happy?"

"Slytherin's are just weird." Fred commented, piling some mashed potatoes onto his plate.

"Hey, my entire family's Slytherin thank you very much."

"So? You're not the only one with a weird family."

"Yeah, just look at Percy." George grinned in a low voice, as if their elder brother, who was sitting several seats down from them, might over-hear.

"I only meant that they think weird compared to the rest of us." Fred clarified his earlier point, seeing that their friend was still resentful of the earlier comment. "And given your family, Harry, I should think if anyone was going to know that it would be you."

The small frown on Harry's face did not disappear but it did relax slightly. Fred did have a point; kind of. Describing the general way of thinking of most Slytherins as weird was a little harsh. Saying it was different was not harsh enough. It was hard to think of a decent way to describe their thinking process in comparison to those of the other three Houses. But perhaps it was unfair to; perhaps doing so was too stereotypical.

"Harry?" A female voice suddenly cut into his thoughts and Harry returned to reality to find Hermione standing behind him and just to his side.

"Oh, hi ya 'Mione." He greeted her with a smile.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second...Alone."

Fred and George both gave a long, drawn-out "woo" causing Hermione to blush and Harry to merely roll his eyes.

"Sure you can, we'll go down and sit at the end of the table together. I'll join up with you both after dinner, all right?" He said to the twins as he stood and climbed over the bench.

"Sure thing." Fred agreed.

"Have fun." George grinned before taking a bite of his meat pie.

So, it was with that, that Hermione and Harry made their way down to the end of Gryffindor table where there was usually a few seats going spare with every meal time. However, when they got there, Harry was confused by what he found; Potter and Ron were already seated there. "I thought you said you wanted to talk to me alone?"

"We need to talk to you alone." Hermione corrected, gesturing with her hand for Harry to sit down. The older boy hesitated for a moment before releasing a defeated sigh and sitting down opposite the two younger boys, the lone girl sliding into her seat beside him.

"So, what is it you three want to talk to me about then?"

"Well, it's about the Quidditch match today, about what happened to your broom." Ron told him, sounding rather nervous.

"Oh?"

"It was being hexed." Hermione told him.

Harry's eyebrows rose at that and he turned to look at the girl with wide eyes. "It was being what?"

"It was being hexed." Potter said slowly as if Harry was having a hard time hearing it. "And it was being hexed by Snape."

That caused Harry's jaw to drop as he turned to stare at the dark haired First Year opposite him with wide eyes. "You can't be serious!"

"We saw him doing it." Ron said sympathetically.

"I've read about hexes and when you're casting them your not supposed to take your eyes of off the subject and Professor Snape wasn't blinking." Hermione explained. "And when his eye contact with you was broken when I set his cloak on fire, your broom settled down again."

"Okay, you three do realise that this is my father we're talking about, right?"

"And he's also a Death Eater who served Voldemort quite happily since he was a Sixth Year." Potter pointed out with a sneer.

"He was a spy for the last three years of the War, everyone knows that."

"Harry, we just wanted to warn you." Ron told his brothers's best friend in what he hoped was a somewhat soothing manner.

"Of what? Some figment of the imaginations of three Gryffindor children?"

"We're only telling you what we saw." Hermione insisted. "Your father's up to something, Harry, and he has been for a while now. On the night that the troll got in, he came to the bathroom with a nasty cut on his right leg..."

"There's a three headed dog guarding a trap door on the third floor; we think your dad was bitten by it that night." Ron continued the explanation.

"Snape let the troll in as a diversion so that he could get to the trap door and steal whatever it is that's being guarded." Potter finished, obviously pleased that he was the one delivering the actual theory the three of them had cooked up together.

"Oh my...I cannot believe I'm hearing this..." Harry said with a shake of his head, his left hand coming up to rub across his forehead.

"We're sorry, Harry, we know this can't be easy to hear..." Hermione began to comfort him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

However, Harry flinched away from her touch and gave her a poison-filled glare. "Not easy to hear? Are you even hearing what you're saying? It makes no sense!" He hissed quietly, not wanting to be over-heard by anyone or to cause a scene. "This theory of yours makes no sense. Why would my father try and kill me because of this thing that you think he's trying to steal? How in Merlin's name is that connected?" He got to his feet then and stepped over the bench before leaning back down to the three First Years who seemed rather surprised at his out-burst. "I don't know why you've felt the need to piece this ridiculous story together, but stop, now, before you start causing some actual damage. I won't tell any of the teachers that you were up on the third floor and I'll forget this conversation ever took place but if I ever catch a hint of you three sticking your noses in where they don't belong, I won't sit by and ignore it again." And with that, the furious Third Year straightened up and headed out of the Great Hall.

"Oi Harry, aren't you eating anything?" Fred's voice came from behind him; the twins had obviously been watching him carefully.

"I'm not hungry." Harry shot back, his anger still clear in his tone, as he stalked out of the Great Hall.

He was so angry! How could those three think such awful things about his father? Even more, how could they actually believe in them enough to say them to his face? Harry was no idiot, he knew his father was one of the least popular teachers in the school and no doubt there were little rumours that went around about him; he had heard the one about the man being a vampire too many times to count. But to actually, seriously believe in such a theory was terrible. To think so little of such a wonderful man...

"Haryon?" The familiar, warm, baritone voice of his father came from behind him and he felt a little bit of his anger ebb away.

With a small sigh, Harry stopped and turned around to find his father standing a few paces away from him. "Father."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, fine, it was just something that Potter said."

"I see. It must have been a little more than just "something" if it caused you to lose your temper as you did."

"It was nothing."

"Haryon."

Harry's eyes flickered up for a second before they fell to stare at the floor. "He said something about you."

"Ah, I see." The professor replied, his tone knowing but nothing else, a fact which was not lost on Harry.

"Aren't you angry?"

"My opinion of Potter is not high enough to even consider his opinions being of any value."

"You don't care what he says about you?"

"Haryon, if I cared about and took notice of every single thing that has ever been said about me by a student of this school then I would have had to have resigned years ago. It is best to not react to such comments."

"But you don't deserve it!"

"And as long as you and the few people who matter to me know that then no number of negative comments from immature students will ever affect me." The man assured with a soft smile as he rested a hand on his son's shoulder.

Harry released a tired, somewhat sad, sigh and nodded his head a little. His father was right, he knew he was, but it was hard to ignore such hurtful things, at least for him it was. If only everyone else could see what he did when he looked at his father. It was so unfair and although it was hard for Harry to believe that his father really was not affected by the rumours and such, it was not impossible to do so. After all, the man had a point; how else would he have managed to last so long in his job if he cared?

"Now, seeing as you left the hall without even having a bite of dinner and considering that I also have no desire to return there this evening, shall we head down to my rooms and have a house-elf bring us something?"

"Sounds good to me." Harry agreed with a smile as he linked his arm with his father's and they headed off on the direction of the dungeons.

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5th December 1991: Midday

Two months into being back in Hogwarts for his third year and Harry was now completely certain that Divination was a complete and utter waste of time. A month into lessons and they were still fiddling around with tea leaves! It was ridiculous really especially when the entire theory behind the technique was so vague and easily twisted. It was safe to say that Harry was now pretty certain that Havanist methods were best if you wanted to effectively and easily predict the future. Of course, there were a couple of Wizarding methods that he was hopeful for but a part of him was setting himself up for more disappointment.

His mind was focused on his dislike of Divination at that moment because he was busy writing an essay for his next lesson. Once again he was spending a lunch time alone due to Fred and George landing themselves in detention. Though, Harry had to admit, this one was at least justified; messing with someone's potions ingredients was a very dangerous thing to do even if the Third Year Prat of Gryffindor, Berty Blinkinsop, did deserve it for what he said about Severus when the man was not paying attention.

Harry sat alone underneath a tree with branches full of golden and brown leaves, a few scattered around his immediate area as well. Although it was a rather mild day on its own, there was a brisk wind which made the temperature drop considerably so not only were his fingers painfully cold but he was also having trouble keeping his book on the right page and keeping the essay he had written so far from flying away from him. Luckily, he was almost finished so he would soon be able to put it all away and warm his fingers up too.

So Harry kept writing and had soon managed to finish. The moment that last full stop had been dotted, he instantly started to pack his things back into his school bag by his side. The book was snapped shut and shoved into the bag, the quill was quickly wiped off on the hem of his robe before dropped carelessly on top of the book and then he brought the parchment up to his face and gently blew on it to dry the final part of the essay. When that was done, he rolled the crisp, golden paper up before securing it with a bit of twine from his bag and then dropping said scroll into his bag with everything else.

With all of that done, Harry pulled a Quidditch magazine out of his bag. As he was now part of his House team, he felt he should probably make a bit more effort to actually be enthusiastic about it. So, he had taken to sharing the magazine that the twins had on subscription. He was gradually getting to like it more and more and he no longer flipped straight to the tips section. There was no particular team he supported exclusively yet, instead he showed interest in all teams which was handy as it meant that he could talk to anyone about Quidditch quite happily.

"Hi Harry." Draco's voice suddenly came from beside him as a shadow fell over him.

"Oh Draco..." Harry smiled, slightly surprised, as he tilted his head up at him, happy that the blond was once again talking to him after all this time since the last Quidditch match. However, the smile vanished when he actually looked at his best friend properly. "Merlin, you look awful!" He gasped, noting the dark circles under the blond's eyes and his rather lank hair which was lacking its usual sheen. His eyes were duller than usual and a definite sense of sadness was practically radiating from him.

"I didn't get much sleep last night." Draco sighed, running a hand over his face as he sat down right next to Harry, close enough so that their shoulders and thighs were touching. "Or the night before...Or the week before as well..."

"Why? Are you feeling poorly? I have to say you do look awfully pale." Harry said sympathetically, closing the magazine so he could give his full attention to his best friend.

"No, I'm not ill, I just couldn't sleep." The Slytherin assured as he drew his legs up to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees.

There was something Draco was not saying, it was painfully clear. His was obviously unhappy, his body language screaming insecurity and depression. Harry waited a few seconds to see if the other boy was going to volunteer the information but once those seconds passed and there was still nothing, he realised he was going to have to do a bit of encouraging. "Draco? Is there something you want to tell me?"

"I lost my virginity."

...Well that was unexpected...

"Oh...Wow, you don't waste much time do you? " Harry said a little nervously, unsure of what to make of the confession. After all, what exactly do you say to that? Congratulate him? Ask for details? His nose wrinkled slightly at that thought; he really did not want to know the details. "Um...When?"

"Last month, night after the Quidditch match."

Not exactly recent then; why was he bothering to tell him now after such a long period of time? "So, erm, who's the lucky girl?" Harry settled on asking, looking down at the ground a few feet away.

"Bethany Zabini."

"Well that doesn't surprise me but I can't say I'm thrilled with your choice. Couldn't you have picked someone less...Shrill?" Harry settled on after hesitating for a moment, not wanting to insult Draco's new...Oh dear Merlin, was Bethany Draco's girlfriend now? Ugh, perish the thought!

"I'm sorry." Draco said suddenly, his tone a little quivered as if he was on the verge of tears.

"I was only joking, Draco, it's up to you who you have relations with." Harry assured quickly, not quite believing that his best friend had taken the criticism to heart. He looked at him and was shocked to see the blond's shoulders were shaking slightly. "Draco?"

"I'm so sorry, Harry." He whispered, sounding positively heart broken.

Harry felt his own heart ache horribly and he quickly wrapped his arm around Draco's shoulders. Almost instantly, the blond had slumped against him completely, his head buried in Harry's chest.

"Please, oh please don't hate me." He pleaded, his arms coming around the shorter boy's waist in a vice-like grip as though he was scared he was going to just get up and walk away.

"Hey, hey it's okay. I don't hate you, I could never hate you, it's alright."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course." Harry assured uncertainly, really not understanding why Draco was so upset and why he was apologising to him of all people. He had a few theories such as the blond was regretting his actions and wanted someone to tell him it was all right. Or maybe he thought Harry would be disapproving; Draco knew little about Havanists after all and it was quite possible that he thought that they were taught to wait for marriage or whatever.

No matter the reason though, Harry just held his best friend silently, just hoping that the young Malfoy did not get himself into any trouble he was too young to properly handle.
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Family Means More Than Blood