"You're a bit a softie, aren't you, Potter?"
                              
"Harry. But yeah, I am. But please, Draco, don't leave without a word."
                              
"I won't, I promise. Go on. I'll be fine."
                              
"Alright, I'll be back, soon," Harry said, and disappeared with a Crack!
                              
Draco sighed was about to play with his cube, when he decided to explore. Using his guide stick, he felt the boundaries of the den and furniture and then went into the kitchen, locating the stove, sink and cupboards. The icebox had chilling charms in it, and was filled with food. He didn't poke his fingers into it, but he did locate the box of Yorkshire Tea on the counter. He also found mugs in the upper cupboard to the right of the sink.
                              
He went to the stove and found the kettle, which had water in it. Draco fiddled with the knob on the front of the stove and heard the ticker go and light the burner. He dropped the kettle on the spot where the heat was coming from, and it took a few minutes and started whistling. Draco turned off the heat and poured the water into the cup, guessing at the amount. He used the tea bag to find the height of the water as he dunked it in. Finding the rubbish bin was difficult, but located it under the sink. Draco went back to the den, worked on his cube, and sipped his tea.
                              
Almost an hour or so later, Potter came home and announced, "Got the memory from Anjos! Hermione was going to get the Pensieve for me. Gonna take a bit to get Gringotts to work with me about the incident, but let's start with what you know, first. Draco, do you know what day it happened on?"
                              
"November 5th."
                              
"Time?"
                              
"Noon was my appointment time. It happened soon after it finished."
                              
"Alright, who were you meeting?" Harry asked, in full-Auror mode.
                              
"Mr. Herox, the accounts manager."
                              
Harry paused. "Did the goblins seem hostile or angry?"
                              
"No, they were more annoyed that the Ministry made them betray customers," Draco grunted. The goblins always hated inference.
                              
"Hmm... did you recognize anyone in there?"
                              
"No, but I wasn't really making eye contact with anyone," Draco said, looking away from Harry.
                              
Harry dropped the Auror-presence, immediately, and softly said, "Hey, Draco. I'm sorry that this happened to you. Okay? Let's try to get through this, if you think that you can handle it?"
                              
"I can handle anything," Draco asserted.
                              
"Of course, you can," Harry chuckled, but dropped it when he asked the next question. "So, the Auror was the first to recognize you?"
                              
"I think so."
                              
"Did he say his name?"
                              
"No, just shouted, 'Death Eater! Show me your arm!' at full volume. I turned and I pulled my sleeve back. I didn't try to fight the command at all cause of the law."
                              
Harry growled under his breath but continued, "Did the Auror didn't look familiar at all to you?"
                              
"No, he was older though, not a kid. He was in his red robes, so he was on duty."
                              
Harry asked him twenty more questions, most of which he didn't have the answers to. Draco sipped the last of his tea, and then Harry asked him if Kreacher made it for him.
                              
"No, I made it."
                              
"Really?" Harry said, sounding astonished.
                              
Draco smirked. "Potter, I'm not completely helpless."
                              
"It's Harry, and I know that. I was just surprised, cause you can't... umm... see." Potter always did love digging his own grave.
                              
"You just have to do it slowly," he said, saving them both from Potter's rambling.
                              
"Huh," Potter articulated as Granger flooed in.
                              
"Got it," she said, setting a large object on the table.
                              
"Are you going to come in with us?" Harry asked.
                              
"I can't see, Potter, and I don't want to hear it, again."
                              
"Oh yeah, right, sorry. Anjos did want to apologize to you for not helping that day. He said that's why he gave you food so often. He felt so guilty about it all," Harry said and didn't wait for him to respond before going into the memory. He didn't know if Hermione went with him, at first, but guessed that she had. So, he fiddled with his cube until they came back.
                              
"Oh, Draco," Hermione said, gasping for air. "That was so cruel. I'm sorry."
                              
"I'm sure Death Eaters did worse."
                              
"You're not a Death Eater," Potter insisted. "I did recognize several of them, and I'm going to pick them up. Will you be alright?"
                              
"Yes, I won't burn the house down. Probably won't, anyway."
                              
Harry laughed a little, but Granger said, "I'll go with you, Harry, as backup. I'll put up anti-Apparation wards."
                              
"Great, I'll be back as soon as I can, Draco," Harry said, as Hermione bid him goodbye, too.
                              
They disappeared, and Draco sighed and played on his cube until Kreacher brought him his dinner. He ate and made tea, but Harry didn't return. Draco wasn't really worried, especially with Granger with him. If anything, he was concerned that Harry might declare war on the Ministry and arrest everyone. He wanted to wait up, but Potter's clock dinged at midnight, and he was not used to staying up so late. He went up into his room, stripped to his pants and got into bed, but he couldn't fall asleep. It didn't feel right.
                              
After a year of sleeping on the cement, the bed felt... weird. At first, he enjoyed it, but the softness and the lack of walls and the low-hanging ceiling were now disconcerting. But he slowly drifted to sleep straight into a nightmare. He could see in his dreams, but it was never anything good: screams, blood, and death. He felt nothing but fear and helplessness. The last dream was a memory—the battle, where Hagrid placed the lifeless body of his boyhood crush on the ground and he all he could feel was despair.
                              
He woke up drenched in sweat, and the discomfort of the bed only grew. He rolled off the side, dragging his blankets with him and went under the bed. He curled into a ball and felt more comfortable in the darkness with hard, solid things around him. Distantly, he heard the Apparation crack, but he didn't move, even when Potter cracked the door. He heard him open doors, and his footsteps became more frantic.
                              
"Draco? Where are you?" Harry called loudly.
                              
He wanted to get up, but he was emotionally drained. He didn't think he could face Harry, or offer him an explanation as to why the floor was more comfortable. But his skin tingled, and Harry must have cast a locator spell, as the door opened a few seconds later.
                              
"Draco? Are you in here?" he called, and came in and he dropped to his knees. "There you are. Are you okay?"
                              
He curled in tighter and didn't answer.
                              
"What's wrong? Why is he under..." Hermione started, but Harry interrupted.
                              
"Thanks for your help, Hermione. I'll see you tomorrow for breakfast, okay?"
                              
"Okay, Harry. Just take care of him," she said, and Draco heard her footsteps down the stairs.
                              
"It's just me, Draco. Can you tell me what happened?" Harry asked, softly.
                              
"N-Nightmare."
                              
"I get those, too," Harry whispered, and he laid down and scooted under the bed, too. His fingers found his hand and gripped it. Harry's other hand came up and caressed his face. "It's okay to cry."
                              
Draco did and Harry wormed in closer, and soon Draco was in his arms. Harry's head was next to his, and he felt his lips against his head.
                              
He felt safe and loved.