(A/N): Thank you all so much for such positive feedback! I honestly thought this would just get buried in a pile of other fics! (I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but it means a lot lot more to me if you say why you liked it/what parts you enjoyed etc as opposed to just 'more pls' or 'write more' - those are pestering but it feels more like a slap in the face. It makes me feel like I'm just a word processor as opposed to a writer. That being said, a lot of you haven't done this and have pressed me into it really kindly so thank you so much!) The thing is, I kept getting messages to update, and I have had this chapter written for a while but it would be odd to update a fic just a couple of days later! It would also set a standard of updating that I'm just not sure I could keep up with when I've got multiple assignment deadlines creeping up on me, as well as exams and a stage show to rehearse and perform for four days!

Please enjoy this chapter!


The Gryffindor Common Room was unusually busy for the Christmas break, and it irked Harry that he and Hermione had been pushed over to the seat near the window by some seventh years grumbling about their NEWTS. ("As if we don't have important exams too!" Hermione snapped. They laughed, and said OWLs were nothing in comparison.)

Harry hated this table. The wind howled so strongly against the pane that the glass might as well have just not been there. It was cramped and cold and Hermione made the worst study mate he could think of. She was eager, sure, but she got a lot more done than Harry. She also seemed to have a lot more work to do, which worried him, because they were practically in all the same classes.

Besides which, he just couldn't concentrate. Between the noise, the periodical pain in his various wounds and the events of the other day, it was just impossible. His mind just kept returning to the same image of Draco, sat at the end of the bed and glaring into the darkness. 'If I hated you Potter, I would just ignore you.' He seemed to get paler every time Harry remembered it, as though he was turning into a ghost to haunt him. He was haunting Harry.

Did Draco Malfoy consider him a friend in his own way? He did seem to show affection by being spiteful. Did he want to be friends? Were they friends, now that they had secrets? Or did he want something else? What would that something else be?

"Where did that come from?"

Hermione's voice cut across his thoughts. She pointed to the black, velvet glove sat next to Harry's History of Magic textbook. She was frowning as it, as though it was a dead animal leaving a smell.

"Where did what come from?" Harry bluffed.

"The glove."

"What glove?"

"That glove."

"Dunno what you're about," Harry said, flipping his textbook over to cover it. Maybe Hermione was part parrot, and she wouldn't remember it if she couldn't see it.

"Harry," Hermione put on her 'mum' tone of voice and raised a stern eyebrow.

"It's my glove," Harry said. He flipped a page in the book as though that would let them move on to a new conversation.

"You don't own gloves."

"Who doesn't own gloves?" Ron appeared at the table, still wrapped in his dressing gown and in need of a shower. He huddled on one of the poufs and glowered down at the jumble of parchment on the table as though personally insulted at the presence of homework.

"Harry. Harry, show him the glove," Hermione said.

Harry sat there, feeling as though he was disobeying a teacher. He just stared at them. He couldn't show them the glove. He would just have to stand his ground until they moved on with the conversation.

"Why do you only have one, anyway?"

"Michael Jackson only wears one glove."

"You're not Michael Jackson."

"Who's Michael Jackson?" Ron glanced from Harry to Hermione, as though he was watching a tennis match.

It was time to put his mood swings to good use. Harry threw his arms dramatically up in the air and gave a loud sigh.

"I can't concentrate with you going on about Michael Jackson, Hermione!" he cried, shoving his homework (and the glove) into his bag and standing as moodily as he could. "I'm going to the library – where it's quiet."

With that, he stomped across the room, pausing to look gloomily over his shoulder for good measure, before crawling out of the secret passage.

He got halfway down the corridor before he paused. He didn't want to do work. If he wasn't sat with Hermione, he didn't have to do work. He could go wherever he wanted.

He could go to the dungeons.

Harry frowned at the intrusive thought, picking up a slow pace once more. Gryffindors didn't go into the dungeons. Gryffindor's didn't visit Slytherins. Harry Potter did not visit Draco Malfoy. Besides which, there was no guarantee Draco would be there. It would be awkward if he was hanging around the Slytherin Common Room and some other Slytherin came out instead.

His foot hung over a newly created abyss as the staircase began to move with a loud rumble. He wavered on the edge before he grabbed the bannister and pulled himself back to safety.

"Potter's losing his marbles," someone mumbled behind him. He was starting to agree with them. What kind of a Harry Potter was thinking about Draco Malfoy so much?

As the new staircase slid into place, he carried on, still unsure of where he was going or what he was trying to accomplish. Walking past the portraits didn't help much either. They were all of pale people and pale people made him think of Draco bloody Malfoy.

He tightened his grip on the wand in his pocket and gritted his teeth. Surely, he had more important things to worry about. Like Voldemort and saving the world and Dumbledore's Army. Not the glove in his pocket. Not about whether it smelt like Draco. Not about what Draco smelt like. He shook his head to try to clear the thoughts.

"Alright, Potter? Getting rid of the voices?"

He looked up. It was Blaise Zabini. Of course, it was. A little gaggle of Slytherins. Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and – and Draco Malfoy. Harry's stomach gave an odd flip, like he was nervous. Draco was staring at him with those dark eyes. His eyebrows knitted together. Harry couldn't tell if it was from concern or irritation.

His retort died on his tongue as he met Draco's eyes. He told himself it was because they weren't worth it. It wasn't worth getting into a fight about.

"He's just thick," Pansy said. She was glancing at Draco, as though she was elbowing him to add to the onslaught of insults. A pair of second years had stopped to watch the exchange.

Harry had to say something. And fast.

"Piss off."

Yeah. That would show them.

The edges of Draco's mouth tilted upwards.

Harry's throat was dry and he felt his cheeks warming, so he stuck his head down and carried on, ignoring Pansy's shrill laughter at his pathetic response. He didn't pay attention to it or where he was going. It was just like at breakfast yesterday. Draco must have been hexing him. There was no other way around it. It was the only reasonable explanation to what had been happening to him. It must have been some remembering jinx or something. Just so Draco could bug him more than usual.

…More than usual. Now that he thought about it, his first three years at Hogwarts had been very much occupied by Draco Malfoy. He spent an awful lot of time thinking about what Draco was up to, how to stop Draco's plans, if Draco was the heir of Slytherin. Last year he'd been so preoccupied with the Triwizard challenges that he hadn't concentrated on him. Quidditch had been cancelled too, so he hadn't see much of Draco. But then Draco had spent the good course of the year taunting him. Draco did spend an awful lot of time pestering him, actually. More than in a just 'we don't like each other way.' He'd gone out of his way to be the Slytherin Seeker. His father had paid for it. Was that just rivalry? He was so dramatic that Harry wouldn't have put it past him if it was simply that.

And yet he had said, 'if I hated you, Potter, I would just ignore you.'

He swallowed, and it hurt his throat, but he still couldn't quite grasp an explanation. It was as though it was lurking at the edges of his mind, unable to be reached. He pushed open the door in front of him and sighed.

It was echoed with a dozen little hoots. He looked up, blinking, and found himself in the Owlery. He hadn't even realised he'd walked there. But here were all these owls, staring down at him haughtily. Even Hedwig seemed to be raising an eyebrow.

He sighed again, slipping on a gauntlet and holding out his arm for her to perch on. She stayed where she was, as though she could sense he was a house traitor. Was he a house traitor? Was that even a thing? Did anyone actually care about the houses?

"I think I'm having a mental breakdown," Harry told her. "Tell me I'm overthinking all this, Hedwig."

She gave him a slow blink. Then, as though it was a great effort, gave a flutter of her wings and flew down from her perch. She landed with much more weight than usual, almost knocking Harry's arm away. She peered at him again, her amber eyes glistening, then gave an affectionate nip of a stray curl.

That made him smile. Birds were easier to deal with. He could always tell what Hedwig wanted.

He petted her, letting his fingers sink into her white plumage. She was always so soft, but underneath all that fluff he knew she was anything but. The long, curved claws gripping his wrist so tightly were the proof of that.

There was a scuffle from outside. Hedwig turned her head and gave the intruder an annoyed glance, before taking off again, kicking Harry's arm harder than was necessary, before setting herself on her perch once more.

The door creaked open.

"Well, look at that. The cat amongst the pigeons."

The voice made Harry pause. It made that nervous feeling in his stomach returned. He half-wished he was wrong as he turned to see Draco Malfoy slipping in through the doorway. Then again, he was glad he was right.

"Uh, what?"

In the drama of the moment, he had forgotten what Draco had even said.

"Because you're a Gryffindor? A lion, so a cat – amongst owls – or – birds?" he said, as though he was talking to a child.

"Oh, very witty," Harry muttered. He remembered Draco had said it before, that he was a 'stray cat.' "So, what, are you stalking me now?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I need to send a letter, that's all," Draco said. He came to a stop opposite Harry and fixed him with a heavy stare. Then he held out his hand. "Hand me the glove."

"What?"

Harry didn't want to give the glove back. He had bled on it. It was his now.

"The raptor glove."

Oh.

"There's another one by the door."

"And you've already got that one out. I'll just use that one, if you're quite done?"

Draco's hand didn't waver and neither did his gaze. He just stared.

Harry slipped the falcon glove off, trying to hide his face with his hair as he handed it over to Draco.

Draco didn't move.

Harry glanced up at him from under the rim of his glasses and through the tangle of messy hair.

"Well? Return the favour, Potter."

Draco's tone was softer than before. It reminded Harry of crawling under something and his stomach did that strange twinge again. It was like those words were just meant for him.

Of course, they were just meant for him. They were the only two people here.

"Piss off," he said, but he started to slip the glove onto Draco's wrist anyway. Draco's hand moved to accommodate him, as though it was a snake itself. If that was the cost of keeping him quiet about the previous night, then so be it. If it was the only he could balance the two of them out and move on, then fine. Good, even. He wanted to be done with Draco Malfoy and gloves.

"Really, Potter, you need to expand your vocabulary," Draco said as Harry knotted the strings in a messy bow.

Harry glared up at him to find Draco barely smirking once again. Just the corners of his mouth. A cat who's got the cream.

"You need to extend your world view," he said, stepping back quickly. Hedwig was fixing him with that raised eyebrow stare again. How could an owl do that, anyway?

Draco barked a laugh, raising his arm. His eagle owl came straight away, almost scuffing Harry's head with the edge of its wing.

"It's not funny, I heard you say," Harry stopped himself and just mumbled the 'm' word instead. "Yesterday."

"If those muggles you live with always called a spoon a fork, would you call it a fork too?" he asked, seemingly half to himself, as he tied a scroll to the owl's legs.

"Well, I suppose so."

"So, there you go," he lifted his arm to help the owl take off and they stood watching it's retreating silhouette.

"But you knew it was wrong when you said it to Hermione in second year."

"Are you really going to bring up all the silly things I did when I was twelve? I can name some pretty stupid things you've done and that would only be from last year."

Harry paused.

"So why keep saying it then?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"No. You Gryffindors are all so high and mighty and accepting, aren't you? 'No matter who you are you have a place in our house.' And Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are the same. Well, it's not like that in Slytherin. If you don't fit in in Slytherin, you might as well be a muggle."

"I never thought you'd be one for peer pressure."

Draco didn't reply. The silence stretched on and Harry suddenly wanted to fill it. To keep talking. He wasn't quite ready to say goodbye yet.

"Was that letter to your dad?"

"My mother," Draco said. His eyes flickered to Harry's and he ran a hand through his hair, even though it was as perfectly slicked back as usual. How did he manage to look so flawless all the time? "How's your hand?"

"Oh. It's, well, it's okay."

"Show me."

"No," Harry stuffed it in his pocket immediately.

"If it's healed then you don't have anything to hide, do you?"

"I'm not going to show it to you just because you order me to."

Draco raised an eyebrow and shifted slightly. Just so Harry could see the falcon glove on his hand. He frowned and turned his face to the window instead, clenching his hand so tightly in his pocket that his nails dug into his palm.

"Potter, stop behaving like a child."

"I'm not. I don't need you checking my hand every five minutes. You're not Madame Pomfrey."

"Don't make me curse you."

"There's not a curse that makes me do what you say. Not a legal one, anyway."

"My father is a Death Eater."

The implication hung in the air. There was no doubt that Lucius Malfoy could have taught Draco the unforgivable curses.

"Fair point," Harry muttered, he turned to glare at the door instead as he thrust his arm towards Draco. He could just sense the smirk of triumph radiating from him.

Draco carefully took his wrist in one hand, tilting it so that he could see the back of Harry's hand. He was quiet for a long time and Harry became aware of how loud his breathing was. Or was it loud? He couldn't tell.

"I'll send you some more murtlap essence. Will your owl deliver it if I attach it?" he said.

Harry nodded.

"Why are you helping me, Malfoy?" he asked. The anger was returning in his chest. He could feel it building like a storm cloud.

There was a beat.

"First rule of school. It's always, always¸ us against the teachers," Draco said.

"Even when we're on different sides of a war?" Harry said. He was surprised at the venom in his voice. He expected Draco to snap. To break this façade he was putting on and show his real self. To drop this strange mask he had put on to mess with Harry Potter.

Instead he winced.

"Especially when we're on different sides of a war."

Harry's hand dropped to his side. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Malfoy's. He was just waiting for the punchline.

But there wasn't one. The moment stretched on. And Draco Malfoy was being earnest to Harry Potter.

"Come on, it stinks of merde in here," Draco said, shouldering the door open.

Harry followed, feeling somewhat numb. The tips of his fingers tingled.

"You can just say shit," he said.

Draco rolled his eyes.

The wind whipped at them as soon as they were outside and Harry ducked his head against the cold. A snow flurry had started up and it was as though tiny paper scraps were attacking him, whipping his robes around him like it was trying to snatch them away. Without thinking, he reached into his satchel and slipped the glove on to protect his hand. He just caught sight of Draco's face before he turned away and tried not to think too much about the smile he had seen. He hid the hand in his pocket.

"You don't like Umbridge either then?" Harry mustered up the question, because they were just standing there. Still. Waiting for something, he guessed, but he wasn't sure what.

"About as much as dragonpox."

Harry chuckled. Then frowned at himself. Once was bad enough, but laughing with Draco Malfoy wasn't something that happened twice.

"You really are astounding," Draco said, turning to Harry. "I know your scar probably gave you brain damage, but try and use it," he tapped Harry's forehead with the back of his hand. The left one. The one that wore the other black glove. It bounced against his mess of hair. "Why do you think I'm helping you, Potter?"

Harry didn't have an answer. Draco's hair looked like snow and there was a flake melting in his eyelash. It was surely just a kid against adult thing, right?

"To try to be on the right side without getting on the wrong side of your dad?"

Draco finally looked faintly annoyed. The way that Harry was used to Draco looking. This was it. This was when Draco would reveal his true self. Once a snake, always a snake.

Instead, he shook his head. Like he was disappointed.

Then turned and started down the steps of the owlery without a word. Harry watched the black, flailing cloak disappear into the white snow. Within minutes, he was gone completely.

"Where have you been? I searched the library three times for you!"

Harry was surprised Hermione wasn't pointing a wand at his neck.

"I went to the owlery," he said.

"What did you go to the owlery for, mate?" Ron asked. He glanced around, then leant closer. "You didn't get another letter from," he paused for effect. "Sirius?"

Harry shook his head.

"Just felt like it," he said.

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances, which was comical given the height difference.

"You've been acting really strange the past couple of days," Ron said, slowly. Like he was waiting for Harry to tell them something. It was like two parents waiting for their child to come out the closet.

"Have I?" Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised how easily he managed to evade questions. It wasn't exactly lying, but he wasn't going to be telling the truth anytime soon. "I guess things have been a little strange, what with a dark wizard poking around inside my brain and all."

He sounded much more bitter than he had meant to, and Ron recoiled slightly. He exchanged another worried glance with Hermione and it got under Harry's skin like a boiling needle. He rolled his eyes and stomped up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. He even threw his bag down with a satisfying thump to show his anger. Stupid Ron and Hermione with their questions and their glances and their worry. Stupid Draco Malfoy with his stupid riddles and his stupid smirk and his stupid stares.

"It's okay, it's only Harry."

He registered the words a moment later than they were said and frowned.

He hadn't realised Dean and Seamus were in here. They must have been studying together, because they were both on Dean's bed.

"So, I'm 'only Harry' now?" he asked, not sure whether to be relieved or annoyed.

"I just meant," Dean floundered, scratching the back of his neck and looking to Seamus for back-up.

"We just meant you're not the most observant," Seamus said, quickly. "When it comes to people, like."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry frowned. He was observant, wasn't he? He had more emotional range than Ron.

They both stared at him and he stared back.

There wasn't a book on the bed. They hadn't been reading together. Dean's hand was over Seamus, as though he could shield him from this intruder.

"Harry," Seamus said, glancing at Dean as though he couldn't believe what he was about to say. Like he was talking to the town idiot. "We went to the Yule Ball together, remember?"

Harry blinked.

"Oh."

An awkward silence filled the room.

"Well, uh, good for you guys," he said. He crossed to his bed and sat down. He went to rest his hands on his knees and that's when he remembered the glove. He slipped it off and squashed it in his fist. "Hey, um, how would you know if someone, uh, liked you?"

Dean and Seamus exchanged looks.

"You mean Cho Chang? I thought that was obvious?" Dean said.

Oh, yeah, Cho.

"No, like, someone else."

"You're the Chosen One, everyone likes you," Dean said, only slightly bitter. Seamus gave him a sympathetic look and rubbed a thumb over the back of Dean's hand.

"Well how did you know Cho liked you?"

"I didn't. She kind of just kissed me whilst crying about Cedric."

"That's rough, buddy."

"I dunno, Harry, we just kind of figured it out," Seamus said. He leant into Dean as he spoke, looking Harry up and down. "I guess if they're just, I dunno, odd around you."

Well Draco certainly was that. He was becoming human.

"I'd say if they followed you around for four years," Dean said, and he smiled at Seamus. Their heads leant towards each other slightly and Harry could see they were having a mushy moment so he turned away to give them a little more privacy.

The glove was still on his hand. He pulled it off and frowned at it.

If it wasn't really to do with Umbridge, or his father, then why was Draco suddenly so interested in him? Always so interested in him. It hadn't just been that year.

Surely Draco Malfoy wasn't interested in him in that way. Hadn't he always had a thing for Pansy? Or did Harry just assume that? He supposed it would be like assuming he fancied Hermione. He couldn't even imagine Draco liking a girl, much less kissing one. So maybe it was true and credible. Maybe Draco Malfoy fancied Harry Potter. He had followed him around for four years, after all.

Harry was on tenderhooks all evening, as though he was waiting for something. Something more than the strange revelation he had had. It wasn't even quite a revelation, it was just like he was remembering something. Like he had remembered a fact in the middle of a History of Magic exam. Something he had always quite known but never acknowledged.

He couldn't figure out why he couldn't settle. Why he had to keep going down to the common room to check some things. Or stand and stretch after reading a page of his textbook.

Then Hedwig arrived at the window. Carrying a vial of Murtlap essence.

And he remembered.

He had been waiting for Draco.

He relieved Hedwig of her package and she gazed at him until he surrendered an owl treat in response.

There was a small note wrapped around the vial, and seeing the cursive writing made Harry's heart leap.

'Figured it out yet, Potter? Sleep well.'

He could almost hear Draco's sarcastic drawl. For a moment, he even wondered if it was enchanted to read itself aloud. But that was stupid, Draco was trying to help him, not play tricks on him.

Oh no. Draco was helping him, and he was sure of that. This wasn't a trick. When did Draco Malfoy stop playing tricks on Harry Potter?

The worst thing, Harry thought, as he bathed the cuts in the essence, was that he wasn't at all sure about how he felt about Draco. The weird feelings he'd been having lately surely meant something. It wasn't even lately. He could remember those pangs of nerves from third year. He had put it down to hate or fear or nerves of confrontation, but he didn't think it was like that now.

He had no idea what it was like now.


(A/N): IF YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER PLEASE CONSIDER BUYING ME A COFFEE - /turntups on ko-fi. NOT a keyboard art one - that does NOT help me pay rent. And if I can't pay rent, I can't write.

I'm very conflicted because I want to slow burn this so bad, but I also want to write the rest of the series going off this in an AU but I don't have the commitment to write a slow burn over three years. I also really struggle to write slow burn, so who knows where this is going.

Also Hogwarts doesn't seem to care for owls very much! I read just one article on keeping owls as pets and they are very high maintenance! You'd definitely need a handling glove for them! How has Harry's arm not been ripped to pieces?!

Problematic fave JKR said Dean and Seamus were meant to go to the Yule Ball together - I tried to put a bit more of them in and hopefully they'll make another appearance in the future! This came out much more comedical than the last chapter but I had fun with it and that's what matters!

I hope to update weekly and will let you know of any changes at my tumblr: turnupsdrawssometimes under the #drarryhandinglove