A/N: I'm super unsure of this chapter. I've had this written for over a week now and I've thought about rewriting it about five times but because I never had time, I didn't. So I'm just going to leave this here and work with whatever I have when I start to write the fifth chapter later this week.

Chapter 4

When a sliver of golden light slipped through the cap of the white curtains Harry started to stir from his sleep. The light hit his closed lids, forcing Harry to squeeze his eyes tighter to avoid being completely blinded. When he finally blinked his blurry eyes open he found the house silent from yesterday's calm chatter and everything completely still. Harry loved those moments in the morning the most, when nothing moved and he could be just Harry. Not a Gryffindor, not someone who still woke up from nightmares and definitely not a gay bloke who had an unhealthy crush on his biggest enemy.

Blearily Harry blinked the restless dream out of his mind and decided to get ready for the morning.

A soft wind made the curtains flutter up and Harry remembered he'd left the window open. He didn't move to close it, though, since the day was warm and the cooling spell wouldn't let too much heat come in anyway. Instead he let himself smile slightly as he breathed in a delicate scent of lavenders and morning dew. Somewhere the sky rumbled, reminding that the storm had been building up for days now.

It wasn't until half an hour of slow waking up later that Harry heard the first steps outside of his room. It was probably his dad, getting down to prepare breakfast like every morning since Lily had blown up at him for not being a damn house elf. Harry still shivered at the memory of the roaring woman. Even James hadn't wanted to argue back and instead, as a peace offering, decided to make them all breakfast before Lily even woke up.

Harry wondered between Malfoy and him which one would make the breakfast.

Then he remembered that Malfoy was the pampered prince who was used to get the house-elf prepared food and would probably scoff at Harry for even thinking about cooking for himself. Harry rolled his eyes, emerging from his room more warily than he dared to admit. He remembered the shock on his mom's face for pushing her away and a surprised eyes of his father's – he'd been quite transparent, hadn't he?

He hesitated at the doorway for a heartbeat before entering the kitchen. The smell of burnt bacon and eggs assaulted his nose immediately but he decided it was for the best to keep his mouth shut. Harry didn't want to interrupt his dad running around the kitchen with a concentrated frown between his eyes. He still looked utterly lost and Harry couldn't keep the snort in.

James' eyes darted to him briefly but returned just as quickly to the frying pan.

"Morning, kid." James flipped the eggs over. Harry wasn't sure you were supposed to do that. "Sleep well?"

Before he could stop himself from reacting to the question, Harry yawned widely. James shot him a narrowed look which the younger Potter waved off with an embarrassed smile.

"Yeah. Just… worried," Harry admitted. James stopped tending the eggs for good and turned to Harry. "Sorry about yesterday. I kind of panicked."

James shook his head. "It's okay. It's not like that was the first time you show a little bit of attitude." Harry felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders as his dad shot him a wry grin. "Stuff like that happens."

James didn't seem to want to venture any further with the topic and Harry fully agreed. He sat at the table as the familiar smell of every morning hit his nose.

"Dad. The eggs are ready."

James' sniffed the air and then his eyes widened. He turned to throw the pan off of the stove with a curse. Harry laughed.

"Yeah, you laugh now," James muttered darkly as he started to scrub off the burnt breakfast. "This was your breakfast too."

Harry's laughter died down. His stomach grumbled.

"I hate that you made Mom angry."

James' look was dirtier than Snape's when he caught Harry doing something stupid during Potions.

"Oh, I don't know, honey. I kind of enjoy seeing him struggle." Lily entered the kitchen with a wicked smirk on her lips. As she sat next to Harry, pressing a soft kiss on his temple with a cheerful good morning, James set the plates full of something that was mostly bacon and black mush in front of them. Harry was mildly surprised that at least the meat looked edible. Maybe this morning he actually got to eat.

"I swear if things were different you'd be a Slytherin," James said but accepted a kiss on the lips when Lily leaned in. He rolled his eyes when Harry mode a gagging noise.

"Why thank you, James," Lily's voice was so airy that it took Harry completely by surprise when she next said, "So, Harry, about yesterday."

Harry lifted the glass of apple juice to his lips and took a big sip. He eyed the red headed woman next to him, slumping down in his chair. Lily took a calm bite of the bacon, waiting until James sat opposite them, looking just as awkward as Harry felt. He was sipping his juice too, decidedly avoiding to look at Harry for whatever reason. He had no reason to be embarrassed anyway.

Lily's smile was sweet but it was clear from the way she sat that she wanted nothing more than get the truth out of Harry. Her lips were thinner than normal and when he touched Harry's arm gently, it was like she was afraid she'd break him. Harry huffed and put down the glass with a little too much force.

"What about yesterday?" Harry asked, smashing some meat to his fork. "We talked, I overreacted and was rude. Sorry about that, by the way."

"Wow, do I feel loved now." Harry took a wary glance at her but she didn't seem angry. He relaxed a little, trying to breathe through his nose.

"No, really, sorry about that," Harry muttered, calming down his fork smashing.

A heavy sigh was his only warning before Lily's grip hardened and she said, "I just want to know my son's being treated right."

Harry frowned, confused. "I'm treated right."

James made a weird strangled sound but neither paid him any mind.

"Okay," she said slowly, clearly thinking carefully about her next words. When she opened her mouth again, she said, "So, you hinted that your love would be—"

"I'm not in love."

"Fine, crush then." Harry tried to shrug her hand off but all he got was an eye roll. "You admitted that it's not a possible one. Why?"

Harry groaned. "Mom. Seriously, I'm fine! And it's nothing, I swear. Just a stupid crush on a stupid person and I'm not going to do anything about it."

"You've not been yourself lately."

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, because, like you said, I have a small crush and I've been trying to fight it off. That's why."

James decided that time was the right one to interrupt, "Why fight it off? Isn't falling in love fun?" Then he grinned seductively at Lily and Harry tried not to gag again. "At least I remembered it was pretty great."

Lily giggled. "Oh, you."

Harry rolled down from his chair with a groan.

"Harry James Potter, don't be disrespectful!"

It was with a force of will that he was able to get back to his seat again. But then it meant that the attention was on him once again and for a while Harry regretted not letting his parents' open flirting continue. At least then he'd get to eat his breakfast in peace.

"Honey, you know right that you can tell us anything," Lily said softly, smiling at him. Harry slowed his eating, putting his fork down softly. James was nodding at him encouragingly too and Harry shot him a weak smile.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I know."

A heavy silence spread over the table as they continued to eat, each of them thinking of Harry's situation. Harry fidgeted in his seat, trying to put his fork into his mouth but every piece tasted like ash – which in itself was an achievement. Even though no one said a word, he knew from the slumped shoulders and deep frowns that his parents wanted to say more. They saw through Harry like always, they knew he was lying and right then it felt even harder to even sit in the same room with them. His mind wandered back to the blond boy and the small note he'd read again after waking up, the nervous flutters in his stomach as he realized he hadn't got a reply yet and the way he had to stop himself from lending his dad's owl just to send another note to Malfoy, explain why his note had been such an awkward mess. Harry was an awkward mess and it was Draco's fault he was like that. Draco's. The name felt weird even in his mind but not badly so. He kind of wanted to see how Malfoy looked if Harry started to call him by his given name.

Harry glanced up and caught his dad giving him a curious glance. They smiled at each other, the unspoken secret heavy between them. Harry groaned inwardly. This was ridiculous. Malfoy wasn't his parents despite his last name and this far he hadn't been that bad. He'd been quite nice at school too. Harry's parents wouldn't probably be too mad if he told them.

But James hated Lucius Malfoy and his opinions. And he'd praised Harry for not being friends with Draco.

Lily had given her share of curses towards the family too because of the treatment they gave to the Muggle born families.

But James and Lily were fair, too. They didn't discriminate.

Right?

It was Lily's forced smile and too-happy question of "More juice?" that made Harry open his mouth.

"Mom. Dad?"

They both looked up at him expectantly. With trust in their eyes. Harry didn't deserve such trust. He could already see how their faces crumbled as he told that he'd been kissing a certain Malfoy twice now. What would they say? Draco Malfoy would have just as well been a Death Eater if the situation had been different.

But it wasn't, Harry reminded himself and took a deep breath.

"Will you hate me if I…"

The words were caught in his throat when James smiled. His eyes had that soft look full of unconditional love towards Harry which always made Harry feel like an asshole when he did something stupid. His determination wavered.

"I…"

"Yes, honey?"

"Uhm…"

The silence spread and spread and Harry rubbed his neck under their piercing stares. He swore he was about to open his mouth again when a sharp knock came from the window. Their eyes snapped to it at the same time to see a snow white owl knocking it, a letter tied to her leg. Harry rushed to open the window, almost pushing the chair over and feeling a disgusting hum of relief go through his body.

Hedwig jumped to his arm the moment the window opened. She nipped his fingers gentler than yesterday, hooting softly as he scratched her head. Harry could finally breathe. "Hey, girl. Got a letter for me?"

Hedwig hooted again as a reply and Harry stumbled the knot open. He gave a small piece of breakfast for the bird – Harry almost laughed at the way she gave a disgusted look for James at the taste – and flew upstairs to rest. Once again Harry was alone with his parents who were still looking at him – and now the letter. A quick glance at the envelope told Harry enough he didn't want to be in the same room with them as he opened it.

"Uh, I think I'm going to read this upstairs," he muttered, avoiding looking at the way his parents' faces fell in disappointment. And worry. Maybe more than disappointment he hated how they breathed down his neck like anything would break him if they weren't there to help him. He wasn't bloody ten anymore, he could take care of himself.

Harry opened the letter already as he got up the stairs, taking out two pieces of paper. The first one had a message in it while the other was completely blank. Harry raised a brow at it.

He sat down to his desk, pushing the stuff out of his way and started to read.

Potter,
You're an idiot. Now get your bloody bird out of my face.

Harry chuckled and glanced at the sleeping Hedwig. What had she done? But probably even Hedwig's presence and the fact she was Harry's was enough to set him off.

But I know that would be impossible since you'd probably be answering this letter again with something as articulate as your previous letter was.

Note to yourself: ask Hermione to write for you.

That's why I've come up with an alternative option that you might like quite much with your rule-breaking tendencies and all. The paper I sent to you isn't just any empty paper so don't toss it away, you wanker. It's enchanted to send whatever you write to it to its counterpart – which I have – so we can have a conversation without owls. Isn't it good that your boyfriend's this good at charms? You should praise me, Potter, since I've come up with such a genius plan.

Harry snorted at the shameless self-proclaiming that was so Malfoy like and quickly read the rest of the letter - while holding in a hysteric laugh at the word boyfriend Malfoy had used. It told him to write to Malfoy first – and it was an order too. Harry happily accomplished, not even hesitating to admit that Malfoy was some kind of genius. He took out the empty paper that he now knew wasn't just that and took the first quill he found. Its feathers were a little ruffled but otherwise it worked perfectly well.

Harry tipped the tip to the ink. With what should he start? A greeting, a compliment or an insult?

Harry grinned wickedly.

Oh, great Malfoy. You've outdone yourself.

He chuckled breathlessly as the words disappeared like they never even were there. Carefully he leaned back, his stomach making many kind of jumps and flips. Good thing he hadn't been able to eat much breakfast.

Then, after ten agonizing seconds, words started to form to the paper. Curvy, elegant letters.

I know. I bet you're impressed.

Harry loved magic.

I don't know. It's handy but nothing overly so.

This time it took even less for the answer to appear.

Shut up, Potter. I know you love me.

Harry didn't answer anything for a whole minute. His shaking hands didn't let him to. Even Malfoy – who was actually eagerly waiting for Harry's reply at the other side, Harry realized with a start – had noticed and that's why words appeared to the same spot where the previous message had been only seconds ago,

Cat got your tongue?

Harry wrote a quick "no" and then imagined how Malfoy was probably sitting in his own room at the Malfoy manor, rolling his eyes. Harry pressed the quill to the paper again.

Thanks for your note again. I liked it a lot.

With a satisfied smirk Harry read Malfoy cursing Harry and Harry's like to the deepest hell. Excitement took him over as he read,

It was your bloody bird. It was trying to literally eat my fingers off until I finally wrote you your stupid letter.

Harry's brows disappeared under his bangs. Hedwig never became violent to get people to write Harry. Sure, Hedwig was known to appear to Harry's friends when they were about to write or already writing for him, some kind of magical senses telling her that soon her master would get letters. She was a smart owl, a magical and mysterious one, but never violent.

In other words…

You know, Hedwig never forces anyone to write me. But she knows when someone wants to send me a letter.

Harry had never felt such a way before when Malfoy answered with a curt, It's not your business. It was very much Harry's business but he decided to keep quiet, settling for biting down his stupid grin. The warm hum in his head made him feel like he could do anything, made him feel he needed more. So he wrote,

Can we meet today?

It was good that the message always left before he had time to regret or even have a chance to figure out if it was possible to erase the words before they appeared to Malfoy's paper. Harry sat back and waited, rocking back and forth until he almost lunged over the paper to read the message.

I'm not sure.

"Oh."

Something heavy dropped into his stomach, crushing the pleasant hum in the process. He didn't dare to move as he took in a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. It was fine. Malfoy couldn't just meet him whenever Harry felt like it. That was life. Then a darker thought pushed its way to replace any hope.

Maybe Malfoy didn't want to meet him again. Maybe Harry had done something wrong when they kissed. Maybe it was the way Harry had run away like a coward, not taking care of the situation like a man should.

Harry hadn't even noticed it at first but when new words appeared just below the disappointing text, a different kind of weight took presence in Harry's guts.

Let me ask my father first.

Father? Lucius Malfoy? Blood droned out of his face, his eyes widening as he scribbled so fast the words almost didn't make sense.

You're going to ask your father if you can meet me?!

"C'mon, answer, you git," Harry muttered but when two minutes passed and there was still nothing but a blank paper, Harry threw the quill to the table in frustration. Draco Malfoy was going to ask his father if he could meet Harry later that day. Harry tried to calm himself down. Maybe he was just reading too much into it and actually Draco was only asking if he could go out. Not if he would be able to meet Harry.

Harry rubbed his face.

Not knowing how long the message would show for Malfoy or whether it would disappear only after Malfoy had read it, Harry thought about writing a new one. But then, if the earlier words disappeared when Harry wrote new ones and he'd never see what a stupid idea Harry thought asking Lucius Malfoy about the matter was.

It was probably futile to worry about such a thing when soon Harry would find himself hexed into a toad for laying a hand on the Malfoy heir.

Shit.

Harry was still coming up with creative ways the older Malfoy would punish Harry with when sudden loud noises assaulted the hallway outside his room and the door banged open. Harry only got a second of warning to hastily fold the paper and push it under the stacks of books. When he turned around with an innocent smile on his face, he was attacked by a mess of brown curls.

"Harry! It's been so long!"

Harry tried to spat the hair out of his mouth, patting the back awkwardly as he wheezed out, "Good to see you too, 'Mione."

She huffed a laugh somewhere around his chest. "France was quite beautiful, thank you for asking." She gave him a knowing smile and Harry had really missed her. He snorted as her hair tried to push its way up to his nose one more time but didn't try to stop it.

"Geez, 'Mione. Give the poor bloke space to breathe." It was Ron's voice. Harry had to physically peer around hugging Hermione to see the lanky redhead standing by the door, his arms crossed and a wide grin on his face. Harry sent a smile as wide back to him, pushing Hermione gently away.

"Everything alright, mate?"

Ron shrugged lightly, falling to Harry's unmade bed. Hermione was standing further away now so that Harry was able to see a stern look she was giving his room.

"Harry, when did you clean in here?"

Harry blinked and looked around in wonder. The bedsheets were halfway to the floor, some clothes on the floor were probably giving off manlier scent than any boys' locker room and the halfway finished homework were scattered here and there, some crumbled from the corners while some had their ink all messed up. Harry met the girl's disapproving stare again, giving her a confused smile.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. That's not really why we came here," she stated, sitting down next to her boyfriend. Ron wrapped his arm immediately around her shoulders, giving her such an adoring look that Harry felt like gagging just like with his parents. It was one thing to be happy for his best friends for finally finding each other and another to want to stay in the room where the sweetness was too much to his sanity. He kept his mouth shut, though, when the first kiss was landed. When the second one came around and Harry found nowhere to look at casually, he cleared his throat, separating the lovebirds. At least Hermione had some shame left to look embarrassed unlike Ron who looked at Harry like he was the third-wheel there. Harry gave him a glare.

"Sorry, Harry." Hermione winced when she sounded out of breath. Harry just rolled his eyes, leaning back. He could forgive them – after all they hadn't seen each other for a month. But when her eyes zeroed on him again, Harry hoped he'd just walked out of his own room and given them privacy to concentrate on each other.

"So are you ready yet?"

"Huh? Ready for what?"

The pair shared an exasperated look and Harry gave them both a glare this time. "What?"

"We're going to Diagon Alley, mate," Ron said slowly, giving Harry such a stare which implicated it should have been clear from the beginning. "Don't you remember, we decided to go today together?"

Harry gave him a blank look.

Ron snorted. "Last week I fire-called you and we agreed on going together on Sunday." He gave Harry a pointed look. "Which is today. Or do I need to get a calendar?"

"I-It's Sunday already?" Harry looked down, frowning. He tried to recall when they'd made such plans but his head gave him nothing but blank and then nervousness and soft lips. He closed his eyes. Of course. It was Malfoy's fault. Again.

"Seriously, Harry. Haven't you been using that planner I gave you for Christmas?" Hermione said that but she looked weary, glancing at the mess behind Harry like sensing her planner was somewhere there. Actually the notebook was somewhere in Harry's closet of forgotten things but he decided it was for the best to not mention that. Instead he shared a panicked look with Ron who looked just as guilty.

Yet he had nerve to say, "Yeah, Harry. Why haven't you been using it?" He gave Harry wild glances like asking for him to play along. Harry shook his head and ignored them both. Instead he started to rummage around his room to find his wallet and backpack. The letter from Hogwarts was slightly harder to find but after throwing around the papers and books on his desk he found it. When he went to pick it up, his eyes landed on the folded paper, laying there innocently. Harry peered behind himself but Ron and Hermione were too into each other to notice a change in Harry's behaviour. After glancing one more time to them and finally hesitating for a second his hand over the paper, he picked it up, pushing it into the pocket of his shorts.

He didn't check if Malfoy had already answered and instead tried to assure himself it didn't matter since he was busy too, but the presence of the enchanted paper burned against his leg, asking for Harry to look at it. He didn't, though. He just stepped out after Ron and Hermione to meet up with the rest of the Weasleys and enjoy his git-free day out in the sun.

Written on January 28, 2018