So he slumped, and burrowed and hid himself against Malfoy, who was still holding onto him. He heard his music box click open, and felt the warmth of a palm settle on his nape, and the shifting of his mattress, but no one spoke a single word. He tasted the salt of tears on his tongue, and smelt whatever perfume it was Malfoy used, and heard the hum of his music box, and saw his skin blister in the dark where his eyes were shut so tight it hurt. Saw Regulus" eyes flash with an abject sort of horror that set something to flame in Harry's chest. Saw his dad try to reach for both of them. Saw the conflict, saw the pain, saw the sadness. Saw the need to fix and fix and fix Harry was sure at this point he'd inherited. And saw him fail. 