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Draco's favourite place in the new house was on top of the roof. He knelt on the concrete ledge like a gargoyle and looked down at the street, breathing in the cool and often wet London air. The first time Harry had found him up here, he had freaked out. Thought Draco was thinking about falling or something. But Draco didn't think about anything when he sat up here.
He thought about the cars going by and how they all had their own lives and occupations and things to do. Families to go home to at night and people who loved them. The same way Draco did, now. The same way Draco had a life and an occupation and things to do. The same way he had a family to go home to, however small it was, and the same way he had friends and family - Harry - who loved him.
If he spent more than an hour on the roof, Harry would bring him a cup of warm tea and a jacket. Sometimes he stayed and sat with Draco (usually further back from the ledge than Draco did) and sometimes he would leave. When he stayed he liked to read, or talk, or just sit in silence. And when he left he'd come back in half an hour or so and ply Draco off the roof with the promise of food.
He spent more hours than he probably should have on that roof, but it always ended with a good meal and warm company.
In the end, Draco thought, in the grand scheme of things, he's pretty happy.