"They're gone. It's just me and you. You're safe, now."
                              
Draco's eyes flashed. "You don't have to coddle me, Potter," he said, as his eyes started to water. What the fuck is wrong with me?
                              
"I'm not. It's simple human kindness. You just went through a major... trauma. You're going to need some support, right now. I know I'm not ideal, but I can't just leave you here alone. Can I take you home? Wiltshire, right?"
                              
"Wiltshire? Everything was seized, Potter," Draco said, and couldn't fight off the blush as Potter looked at him with pity.
                              
"Do you have anyone I can summon... or firecall?"
                              
Draco shook his head.
                              
Potter frowned. "None of your friends? Your mum?"
                              
Draco shook his head, again. "Blaise and Pansy moved to Italy. My mum is in France. She can't come here, and I can't leave Britain. Convenient, huh? Everyone else is in Azkaban."
                              
"I see. What are you doing here, anyway? Pubs are closed for the most part."
                              
"I work here."
                              
"Here?"
                              
"This pub, Potter," Draco said, finger his work shirt, which was one of the two shirts he had currently. Potter looked at the label and then at the door name.
                              
Potter looked confused, but then said, "When you say everything was seized...?"
                              
Draco sulked and wouldn't answer. Tonight was bad enough. He didn't need Potter to know how far he had fallen.
                              
Potter sighed and asked, "Did you know him?"
                              
Draco shook his head. "He was in here earlier. Stared. Just thought he was a creeper... but he came up from behind me after I closed the door."
                              
"Then he attacked you?"
                              
He nodded.
                              
"What did he say?"
                              
Draco started shivering, and the tears came back. Fuck, he had never lost this much control. "He said he wanted to hear me scream. He-he was... only going to use spit."
                              
Potter nodded. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard, but did he say anything else?"
                              
Draco started rocking back and forth, still holding his knees. "He... said he was going to take me home... no one would notice me gone." He couldn't stop a few sobs come out. "He was fucking right. No one would notice. No one would care. I'm surprised it hasn't happened yet. I thought I'd be safer out here."
                              
Harry held up his hand. "Can I take your hand?"
                              
Draco didn't want to say yes, but he nodded. Potter put his hand on top of his hand on his knee and he did feel a little better.
                              
"I'll make sure he stays in a long time, Malfoy."
                              
"It's not necessary."
                              
"It is."
                              
Draco pulled his hand back and brought his arms to his chest. Potter left his hand on his knee. Draco furiously wiped his tears away.
                              
"Shh... calm down. It's okay to cry," Harry whispered, in his stupid, calm relaxing voice.
                              
"No, it's not!" Draco snarled and started crying worse. Hating himself for it. Potter was probably going to get a good laugh out of this.
                              
"You're in shock right now. You can't help it. I'm not going anywhere, okay? You're safe with me here."
                              
Draco snorted. "You attach trouble like flies on shit, Potter. Fucking dragons, cloaked vampires in the woods, Chamber of Secrets, escaped serial killers, rigged contests, and don't forget that bloody insane mass-murdering lunatic. Bloody hell... I should blame you for that fucker being here."