Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This includes its characters, plot, and situations.

-\/-

There was a desk in the heart of the Malfoy Manor. It was an old desk and, as Draco pointed out the first time he'd ever seen it, utterly out of style. Its lines were hard and everything about it was just so…square. Never the less, Draco had spent hours at this desk lately, as he did now, because it wasn't the desk that mattered, it was the contents.

There, on the old desk, was a bowl that never moved. It had come with the Malfoy bloodline and at some point in their lives, every Malfoy had paced around it, their eyes snatching nervous glances from it or simply staring into it heavily, sighing as they did. Some of the Malfoy's came out from their visits to the bowl ecstatic, some suicidal. They would throw parties and throw fits.

None of it mattered though, because what was in the bowl was your one and only option. You could, of course, not pursue what was given to you, but that would put the family line at risk to falling. In the end, you would follow what you saw in the bowl.

As for Draco, he wasn't falling to any extreme. He liked what was in the bowl for him, but there was no way in any Hell that he would allow himself to prance around with joy. There was no reason for him to feel depressed by what he saw either. He had decided, years ago, that no matter what he was given, he would wait till it played out to choose a side of emotion.

"Did you expect it to change after what happened today, son?" Lucius discreetly peaked into the bowl beside Draco.

"No, not really. But, better safe and sorry. I was curious."

"As you should be. However, you should not forget what is important now. I believe Mr. Potter is still in his rooms."

"Thanks," with a quick hug, Draco speeded out of the room. The blue liquid in the bowl vibrated with his movement, but the small image in it still showed clearly: a Golden triangle housing a silver circle and split down the center by a black line.

"Harry?" Draco rapped on the door. No answer. He paced for a bit, tried the door again. "Harry?" He stood with hands on hips glaring down the door. The door didn't budge.

Wait a second, this is my house! Why should I have to scratch at a door hour two hours to get in? He reached for the handle, knowing that the manor would let him in, but stopped as his fingers twitched just above the brass knob. Was it really his place to breach Harry's privacy? After all, Harry had told him that he wished to be left alone and asked for their approval as soon as they'd Portkeyed back to the manor …But he was so angry when they left Azkaban. Windows and mirrors had exploded to dust in his presence. The manor's ancient foundation had shaken with an intensity that no natural nor magical disaster had ever been able to cause. There had been occasional rumbles and crashes from his room too, once he'd locked himself inside, but then it had become quiet for the last hour. So maybe he calmed down…

Draco could have slapped himself for overlooking the simple idea that just now popped into his head. He snapped his fingers and a House Elf instantaneously appeared. "I need you to check on Harry, if you would."

The House Elf looked confused at the request, "Does Master think Mr. Potter is in room? Mr. Potter left for underground rooms as to not damage things. He said he not want to bother House Elves with cleanup." It said, sniffing indignantly. "What does he think we for?"

"He hasn't met dutiful House Elves before, only ones that don't want to follow their contract," the elf's eyes widened and it let out an astonished squeak, "Now, you said he was in the underground rooms?"

"Yes, Master."

"That'll be all," Draco sighed as the elf popped away. He would have to go down there than, though it was less than appealing. None of the underground rooms had been used in generations and were mostly for interrogations. You forget though, what they do, they would be perfect for what he needs. Draco instinctually went to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, but caught himself. It would do no good to promote wrinkles at his age.

\/\/\/

It was somehow both surprising and yet comfortably expected that the Malfoy's had a large amount of underground rooms. This was the Malfoy's after all, but still, no one could quite prepare themselves to find such a thing.

Yet, Harry was glad that he did.

The rooms were nothing special. In reality it was just a single large, gaping room that had been sectioned off into smaller areas. Everything was native stone, as if the Manor itself had simply been built over a preexisting, very square hole in the earth. It was all very dark too, until Harry magically summoned Fairy Lights which hovered about 15 feet in the air, changing their pastel color every few seconds. The air was damp and held the coolness of the stone. Most importantly, everything was spelled to absorb magic.

And absorb it did, spell after hex after curse after sheer power fits, it absorbed them all until Harry was left panting on the ground, a great deal calmer than he'd started out as.

It wasn't fair that any of this happened, but then, when was anything fair? Harry could hardly think of a single moment that the world had everything nice and balanced. You lost one thing and found another. You help a stranger and a stranger helps you. Nothing ever worked out that way, ever. Sirius whom he had helped time and time again didn't help him back, not once.

Harry saved him.

Harry hid him.

Harry aided him.

Harry helped clear his name.

Harry gave him a life.

Harry loved him.

Fairness was a myth. Something used in Muggle cartoons and stories, something to be told around campfires. It was not something for life. It couldn't possibly be. If it were true than Sirius wouldn't have….no, it just wasn't possible anymore, it wasn't.

Harry had clung to it though, and when he looked deep enough, he could tell that everything he felt, everything he'd flung at the stone, was mostly felt toward himself. It was silly that for weeks he'd avoided the world just so he could try to replace it with his own fantasies. The Malfoy's and all their good will had no place in his world, so he'd blocked them out. Any letters were possible vessels of truth that were condemnable in his mind. But it was all gone now, all the ideas and pictures and fantasies. They were all gone into the stone now. He felt lighter and heavier.

It wasn't fair, but life wasn't fair and he'd fought hard for this life.

I can do this….I can do this….I can do this… Harry repeated his mantra as he picked himself up from the ground and headed for the exit. There was only forward now.

\/\/\/

While the entrance to the underground rooms was not the most comfortable place to wait, Draco couldn't bring himself to complain about it. Not with the intense surges of magic that occasionally blasted through the underground's wards. It made the world spin and his face flush from outside the guarded walls; inside was not a place Draco wanted to be and he was endlessly thankful when the magic finally subdued and Harry surfaced.

"Thank Merlin, what did you do to the stone? I can smell your magic from out here!" Draco informed him, trying not to breathe the scent of autumn winds that Harry was letting off.

"Sorry."

"No sorry needed, I don't mind magic. Did it help any?"

"I…I think it did help some, yeah." Harry noticed the relief on Draco's face almost instantly. "I'm sorry, for breaking some of your house."

"Like I said, no sorry needed and especially not about a few windows. I'm just glad you found something that helped some. It's just…well, you see I just wanted to say that you shouldn't stay so separated…I think is all," he paced down the hall, "I know you went through quite the ordeal back there and you defiantly deserve to be alone, but I just think, is all. It's not really my place but I just thought…is all…."

As he spoke, Harry could almost make out the flustered look that come across his face, but then, at the distance that Draco kept himself, it could have been anything.

Can I trust them? Harry had thought of it before, but his mind had always dragged the thought away and hidden it, yet here it was again. They were a Dark family, but what did that mean? What he'd studied showed it as a freedom of magic and a more realistic and practical view of the world. It seemed like a smart thing.

But Sirius' family was Dark too, and look where that practicality led.

No, Harry told himself sternly, they aren't the Blacks, they rescued you.

Ah, but so did Sirius, remember him rescuing you from being without a family? From being alone? Harry didn't recognize that voice, but he'd heard it somewhere before. It was dark and slimy. It wasn't his.

"I think you're right, Draco." I shouldn't be alone with these thoughts…

But Draco didn't hear his thoughts yet. "I am? Well, of course I am." His face morphed into the usual Malfoy wall of self-important rectitude, fully recovered from the noticeable lack of articulation he'd shown. "And I'm glad you've noticed it also. Now come on, Harry, I think you could use some comfort food." Without waiting for a protest, Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and took off for the kitchens.

Hermione Granger hadn't dealt with disobeying much, but now she realized one very simple thing.

Her conscious was a bitch.

It wasn't like she was doing anything wrong per-say. She was just...testing other options. Or maybe it was just ignoring a suggestion. It was, after all, just a suggestion and not an order. "Oh screw it," her voice whispered harshly before her leg kicked open the closet door that she was hiding in and her body half crawled, half tumbled out. Her mind, on the other hand, refused to participate in her own sabotage. And it was sabotage because outside the door was a victorious looking Ronald Weasley.

"I knew you couldn't stay away from a book for a day."

There was no point in arguing with him because there was indeed several books poking her a several painful angles where she had fallen.

"Come on Herms, we're in China! Merlin's sake, how could you not find something to do other than read?"

"I did," she answered pointedly, "I went exploring and found this amazing library on traditional Chinese magic. Oh, you should have seen it, Ron, it was amazing!"

Ron shook his head with barely withheld distaste. "I swear you and books have some sort of magnetic connection or something..."

"Well, I'll have you know that if you plan to marry me you should not only get used to it but help me off this floor while you do so."

Every man knew the look. Thatoh so special talent women have that can convey the next five or so years of sex-life to their partner with a single glance. Hermione was no amateur and Ron had her off the ground, dusted off, and her books all safely gathered in his arms before the look turned into reality. "There you are than, dear." he said hastily. "And of course loving books is...well, you. I just don't want you to spend all your time with them and not me." As soon as the words were out, Hermione's face softened and she gave a small 'awe', leaving Ron to silently congratulate himself on his quick thinking.

Hermione spun and giggled quietly, "I would never choose books over you. You should know this by now." Pulling him in for a quick, and then a not so quick, kiss, she lifted her books from him and started down to where the rest of the family was sure to be waiting. "Come on than, I heard your mother discussing visiting the 7 Purity Ponds today."

The Purity Ponds were well known for the blessings that new couples could receive from them, and the two hurried down to where the entirety of their family was waiting, not looking as happy as one would expect on a vacation. After a quick side glace to Ron, Hermione was the first one to speak up. "Is everything all right? Molly?"

Molly was standing, securely in Arthur's arms, near the middle over everyone, absently twisting a small piece of her red hair. "Dears, why don;t you both sit with the others. Arthur and I have some discussing to do." Molly instructed them.

As soon as they were seated, between Ginny and the twins, whispering picked up covering all possibly theories. Maybe there was a surprise, or perhaps Molly had found out about the twins' latest escapades and there was punishment? No, they looked too worried for that. So perhaps someone had been injured? Fred was just about to suggest that maybe all wizarding travel was down and they would be stranded in China, forced into labor to pay for Muggle transport when Arthur cleared his throat loudly and all the whispering ceased.

"No," Molly began," we are not punishing the twins...yet" she added as they both sprouted grins on their faces, "and no, Fred, we are not stranded here. And no, I can not yet read minds. Unfortunately, we heard earlier that Sirius has been convicted and sent to Azkaban for crimes against Harry." Her face was an unfortunate shade of flushed red and ill green and Ginny gasped, assuming the worse.

"No," Arthur jumped in, "Harry is fine...well, he's in proper care at least."

Hermione raised her hand, but lowered it quickly after remembering that she was not in school, "Does this have something to do with Harry's absence from school? He wasn't ill or being tutored separately was he?"

"No, he wasn't." When Hermione looked down to her feet, Molly quickly went to the poor girl. "Come now, dear. I don't want to see you blaming yourself for this. It was only sheer luck that anyone stumbled upon the truth in this case, you couldn't of known."

"I-I guess...Could we visit him though, just to make sure?"

Molly hated denying the girl she'd accepted as family of anything, especially something as deep as this, but there was no choice. "I'm sorry, dear. Unfortunately, because of what happened, Harry isn't up to seeing people yet. I doubt he will be for some time. But I'm sure that you'll be the first person he contacts when he is ready and he'll tell you everything. Until than, stay positive for him." she eyed the rest of her family, whose faces covered practically every reaction possible, "That goes for each and every one of you. Now, until he;s ready to see anyone, there is nothing we can do. School doesn't pick up for another two days, so you should try and enjoy them at least."

Even with bad news, sometimes just trying to be happy was good enough to help.

All Muggle and magical calendars alike failed to warn Harry just how quickly Sunday was to arrive

As the week drew closer to Saturday, Harry found himself more and more anxious. Sunday was the day he had set, with much suggesting from Draco, to finally contact his friends. Harry supposed, that since school had started up again, if he contacted them on Sunday he could probably get another week before they physically visited. He loved his friends, of course he did, and that would never, ever, ever change. But he also knew them too well. Hermione would reacted in a very emotional way that involved lots of hugging and late-night confession sessions. Ron would probably give him a pat on the back at most before ignoring the issue altogether. The twins would pull pranks and Ginny would approach and retreat and repeat.

It would be nice to know what had happened at school though. Now that Tom was gone, Harry wondered how the Houses were interacting. While Lucius had made deals with most of the professors to tutor both the boys, none of them ever spoke of Hogwarts or it's happenings. Hopefully some of the usual animosity has lessened some. Don't get your hopes up, that voice in his head went. Harry was beginning to hate that voice. It would pop up every now and then with a random comment or tip and it always sounded familiar, but he couldn't for the life of him place the voice.

And than Draco showed up, as he seemed to always do when Harry worried about the voice too much. In fact, Draco had hardly left Harry alone at all since he'd seen Sirius, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to dislike it. It was odd to think about it, but sitting around with Draco, chatting about whatever came to mind was somehow comfortable and normal feeling. It felt no different than having a friendly conversation with a close friend in the Gryffindor common room...which was odd yet...nice.

"-ting, I could help." Draco had been saying something.

"Sorry, I missed that..."

"That's ok, Harry. I said, if you want help writing, I could help you. Lots of practice with politics and all that." he smirked ironically and Harry returned the look.

"I have no idea where to start at all," he admitted with a small sigh, "maybe I should just sign a paper and let them fill in the blanks."

Getting more comfortable in the couch that they were sharing, Draco stared at the ceiling a bit before slowly saying, "Maybe you should just tell them that. Tell them that your not sure what to say yet. It's not like they would be offended or anything, being Gryffindors and all that hu-rah loyalty that comes with them."

"Hey, I'm a Gryffindor too."

"Yes, and you would never be offended by a letter like that, would you?"

"No, I suppose I wouldn't be," Harry answered quietly, reached to the small coffee table for a quill and parchment. "I guess I could just write one too, they'll all probably be together when it arrives anyways."

"Really, that would start such a blood feud in Slytherin. I must say that you guys get off so much easier."

"Sometimes, yeah, we do. But if we ever put something before friends we would be toast. At least in Slytherin that;s expected." Harry said, but winced as soon as his mouth closed. "Sorry...I shouldn't of said that..."

"Don't worry about it," Draco waved it off, "you're pretty spot on anyways. We always put Blood Loyalties first. Direct family second, and then everything else. Ravenclaws have knowledge above all and Hufflepuffs have friendship. I suppose that's why we're sorted in the first place. To create bonds with similar people because they'll probably last longer."

"Never thought about it that way," Harry pondered between scribbling words of the parchment, "Don't you think that that's a little silly though. It created such boundaries between people in the end..."

"Yes, but most Wizards don't seem to think long term. Not in that way at least, though they probably should. So, how''s the letter coming along?"

The letter could hardly be called such. It had 5 lines on it in penmanship that a drunk, headless Blast Ended Screwt would put to shame. "Oh." Draco said.

"Yeah, I cant think of anything else though."

"Well, at least that explains the drawling on the edges. Is that a bird...of some sort?"

"It's a hat, Draco..."

A/N: I apologize greatly for the wait on this one and the fact that it's probably a bit choppy. Unfortunately, I have had to attend both a wedding and a funeral within the last month. Hopefully life will hand out breaks rather than work for the next while. The last three pages were all fueled by 5-hour energy, gods bless the hellish tasting stuff, and everything else was pasted together from my notebooks. But, I do like it at least. Still sorry for any spelling or grammar errors. R&R please and thankyou?