For a brief moment, Harry caught himself wondering if it was even worth it, and as the words got stuck in his throat, he clenched his teeth with frustrated hesitation. It had taken the better part of his capture (months, he later discovered) to properly reach to Draco, and the thought of having to go through that again, this time compressed into a single answer spoken in the middle of the war, was so overwhelming that it made Harry question wether or not Draco really was worth the effort. He said it himself - they had never been friends, and whatever need Harry felt to /save/ Malfoy had only occurred after a few months of Stockholm Syndrome and Harry's judgement being clouded by some shags. Harry knew that, and the remaining doubt regarding their whatever-that-was which Harry had been left with, suddenly didn't seemto matter, as he realized that whatever unresolved feelings Harry had where pointless, seeing as the Draco Malfoy who stood in front of him wasn't any longer the one Harry had grown affectionate of.<br/>"I don't believe you," was the final answer, and though there was still some audible frustration in his voice, Harry seemed above all tired. Even though he kept on arguing, it became more and more obvious that he had lost what little motivation he had had, and both he and the conversation ran on their last fumes. "You risked your life helping me escape, and for that I'm eternally grateful; but you didn't do it because I asked you to, Draco, please, you /have/ to remember that."