And at last there is a next chapter! Yay, and I'm actually feeling good about this, thanks to Noora again who did the unbelievable job of hunting down the mistakes and fed me with some positive commentary. If you think their is something wrong with it still, why don't you come and beta it yourself, EH?

Oh, and while I'm at it; PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do not send me comments without any sense or brains. Ok, it is a good laugh, but the joke gets old after a while. There is no sense in asking me questions that are CLEARLY ones that shall be answered later in the fic (e.g. Why is Draco such an arsehole and what is he up to anyway? or Who is Sensei?). Really. I do love comments on the style and how it's written and questions about unclear parts and love notes and praise, but believe me, I am going to answer all the mystery in chapters to come. If not, THEN you can ask.

I'll be posting a FAQ (or an iFAQ (infrequently asked questions) if there is not enough questions) soon, if I have the time and energy. Secrets revealed and stories uncovered!

PS. Draco is written D-R-A-C-O not D-R-A-O-C.

6. Antonymes

Where Balance is discussed and approached by means of opposites

Harry stumbled into the kitchenweary and tired. He collapsed into the armchair, almost squashing Crookshanks, who shot off yowling onto Hermione's lap as she sat down by the table.

"That was a mess," Ron groaned as he shuffled to look for something warm to drink.

"Well, we did get the Cup," Hermione objected.

"And in the process got every bloody Dementor in Britain to attack us! What a success! You-Know-Who must be getting a sniff about what we're doing. It was rather too unlucky that we just happened to bump into a horde of Dementors as we were closing in on a Horcrux."

"We did manage to get through it. Harry's training is proving to be quite useful; that Patronus was amazing!"

"Ron, can you find any hot chocolate?" Harry said weakly.

"I'm trying, Harry. What really bugs me is that I still can't get my Patronus to work."

"You can't be good in everything Ron. You did…"

"Oh, Weasley is good in something then? Haven't seen that yet," came a drawl from the door. The three looked up to see Malfoy entering the room.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry groaned.

"You sure did return late," Malfoy ignored him.

"You're still up," Hermione noted.

"Oh, we got forgot the time with all the fun we were having with the major ballroom."

"We?" Hermione asked.

"Sensei-san and me. But I have to say, the ballroom is smashing now. We found a great tapestry from under those terrible panels, and we took one of the walls down to make it into a window, and those chandeliers are amazing-"

"Why is the cocoa green?" came Ron's shout from the cupboard.

"Because it's green tea, you moron," Malfoy replied. "If you're looking for the cocoa, it's in the big jar beside the fireplace."

"Who gave you the permission to mix up the kitchen?" Ron scowled as he trumped to the fireplace.

"Well, I'm rather fond of hot chocolate myself, so I asked Molly if I could move into that big, unused jar that was in a rather useful position. Watch out, Weasley," he warned Ron.

"For what?"

"For that hot milk that's floating over your head."

"What!" Harry and Hermione turned their heads and saw a massive jug flying through the air. It calmly moved next to the cocoa pot, which added some of its contents into the jug, and then set itself down to the table with a heavy thump. Some of the drink tried to spill out, but Malfoy made a quick movement with his fingers and it settled down.

"Anyone else want some?" Malfoy asked calmly from the stunned three, and four cups bounced to the jug, ready to be filled.

"When did you learn that?" Harry finally managed to ask.

"Oh, I couldn't laze around while you ran about saving the world."

"But she said that there wouldn't be any lessons while I'm gone!"

"There weren't any lessons. We've been decorating. Surely you can't think everything waits for you? Drink your hot chocolate," Malfoy snapped at him, the cup practically trying to jump down Harry's throat. "You're deathly pale. Have you seen a Dementor or what?"

Harry grumbled and sipped his hot chocolate. Malfoy turned to Hermione.

"We didn't do the library yet; we need you to be there to keep track of the books and think of a way to classify the books."

Hermione's eyes shined in the prospect. "Can I get a proper desk in there?"

"Anything you want." Malfoy smiled dazzlingly at her and gave her a cupful of the frothing drink. Ron glared at him, which Malfoy fully ignored and passed him a cup.

"Oh, and Sensei-san kicked that ghoul out of that upstairs bathroom. She said he escaped into a cupboard of the Befuddled Room. Then we managed to move Mrs. Black's portrait into her old bedroom, took the whole morning, that did and she screamed her head off, until we managed to convince her that it was much more dignified to reside in her bedroom, like Cassiopeia does, and…"

"You got rid of the hag?" Ron jumped up and rushed to see. They could hear him whooping in the hallway, and Hermione rose to stop him before he woke up everyone.

Harry drank his hot chocolate and rose to go to bed.

"Manners, Potter, manners."

"Huh?"

"You didn't thank me for the hot chocolate."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Harry looked at the other boy, who was smiling at him slyly over his mug. Harry had never seen Malfoy smile. Malfoy sneered or grinned evilly, he never smiled sincerely. Without the pureblood haughtiness and malice towards everyone else, he looked just like a normal person. A rather good looking normal person.

"Unbelievable, Malfoy!" Ron stormed into the room with Hermione on his trail. "That's amazing! That cow's been ruining the whole place for too long!"

"You're welcome, Weasley," Malfoy sneered. "I'll show you the refurbished rooms tomorrow. I'm going to bed."

"Good night, Malfoy," Hermione said.

"Yeah, g'night, Malfoy!" Ron added.

"Good night, Granger. Weasley."

Malfoy brushed past Harry, and just as the kitchen door closed, Harry thought he heard Malfoy saying, "Sweet dreams, Potter."



"This place is amazing!" Weasley gushed as Draco showed them into the attic. Draco smiled proudly at the whitewashed walls and a sea of cushions covering the floor. It was certainly very pleasant.

"Where did you get the pillows?" Granger asked.

"Sensei-san transfigured them from all the dust and dirt we got from cleaning this place up. I tried to get her move into Weasley's room, but she refused," Draco pouted playfully and sat down on a massive white pillow.

"Pillow-fight!" Weasley yelled and started throwing the cushions at Potter, who bounced them back at him with a circle of magic.

"No fair!" Weasley laughed as he was buried under a mass of brightly coloured pillows. "Show off!"

"I hate to admit it, but I agree with you, Weasley," Draco said. Potter had made quick progress that morning, learning the basics of Oriental magic in record time. "If I were you, Potter, which, thank Morgana I am not, I would not be so proud about being able to -umph!" He was cut off by a well-aimed pillow thrown by Potter.

"That was childish, Potter. Catching an innocent bystander!" And again he was interrupted by an avalanche of cushions.

"That does it, Potter! This is WAR."

A chilly silence filled the room. The cushions Draco had lifted with a burst of magic fell onto the floor with a dull thump. Draco blinked and cursed himself.

"Uh, um. You were going to show us the games room, Malfoy?" Granger piped in.

"Oh yes. Please, follow me."


"Today, we will not have lessons," Sensei informed the boys after their morning practices.

"Why?" Potter frowned.

"I will assign you something that you could desclibe as a ploject. It will take today and tomollow. You will attend morning plactices, but otherwise there will be no martial arts tlaining. It will however take all of your time, so do not celeblate this as flee time."

"Sensei-san, excuse me?"

"Yes, Potter-san?"

"I will need to attend meetings of the Order today and tomorrow." Draco had noticed that the Order had suddenly accelerated its activity, an endless flow of members running around the house. He wondered what had happened, but was more interested in the redecoration of the smaller ballroom. The larger one was very classy, tapestries and chandeliers, so he was looking for something modern for the other one.

"It is your decision if you need to be plesent at them. I will not be supervising you."

This was a great surprise. During the few weeks they had spent with the Sensei, she had kept a close eye on the boys for a solid seven to ten hours every day, without exception.

"But as I just said it is not flee time. You will have completed today's assignment by this evening." As she poked her hands into her almighty sleeves to get something, she winced.

"Sensei-san, what is it?" Draco asked worriedly, "Are you not well?"

"I could call Madam Pomfrey, she's the mediwitch of the Order," Potter offered.

"No, no, it is allight. Thank you for your concern."

She pulled out a scroll and put it in front of her. "By this evening you will have filled this parchment with a list of diffelences between you two. Plefelably things that you are opposites in. All points must be agleed on by both of you." Draco smirked; this would be easy.

"Questions? Good." She lifted off the floor and flew out through the door still on her knees and followed by her shoes.

"I wonder what's wrong; she acted as if she hurt every time she moved," Draco voiced his concern.

"Well, there's no way you can find out, she's as tightly shut as clam." Potter reached for the parchment. "This'll be easy. As if we aren't the opposites in everything."

"Exactly my thoughts Potter. For starters, you're a git and I am not."

"I am not."

"You are too.

"Well, if I am, then so are you."

"Hah."

"And besides we have to both agree."

Draco glared at Potter whose face was set in a determined frown.

"You are such a stubborn moron."

"Am not."

After fifteen minutes of similar fighting Draco slumped on his back and stared at the ceiling. After the reminder Draco unwittingly provided in the attic, the two of them had been on very cold terms. One step forward, two steps back, Draco thought to himself.

"This isn't going anywhere."

"Have to agree with you on that."

"I wonder if we have to stay in here."

"What?"

"She didn't forbid us leaving the room."

"Good idea, for once, Malfoy." Potter stood up.

"Where're you going?"

"We are continuing this in a more comfortable place."

"That is?"

"Well, you provided us a lovely space in the attic." Draco was surprised, that Potter proposed the attic after what happened. "And if our argument is going to get physical, you'll get much less hurt when hitting the pillows than the tatami."

"Oh, you have no chance of that, Potter! I've seen your throws before, and there is no chance I could be thrown down with them."

"Maybe I'll just knock you out with a well-aimed kick!" Potter was already out of the room and Draco hurried after him.

"You'll be down before you have time to do that if my fist has any say in it!"


When it came time for lunch, they hadn't progressed much. Granger insisted on seeing their list as they ate and almost choked on her mashed potatoes as she read it.

"What?" Potter asked.

"'Malfoy has long toes and Potter has short toes,'" she read out. "'Potter does not know how to tie a necktie and Malfoy does.' And this proves you're opposites?"

"How did you get to discussing neckties anyway?" Weasley snickered.

"Had to get something down," Potter muttered.

"Oh, Kikuta-san will be so impressed by 'Potter has dark hair and Malfoy has light hair'."

"What should we have there then, Miss Right Answers?" Draco threw at her.

"Like well, doesn't your magic revolve different ways? I mean that circle thing. If I'm right Harry's circle goes around anti-clockwise and yours in the other way around."

"Is that true, Potter?" Draco asked, gritting his teeth for not noticing himself.

"Yeah! 'Mione, you're amazing," Potter praised her as he scribbled it down.

"I just keep my eyes open and wits about," she answered smugly. "But really, you should go deeper than just looks. Things about your personalities and who you are."

"What about Malfoy's on the Dark side and Harry's the one who'll kill You-Know-Who."

"Shut it, Ron, that was out of order." Granger snapped just before Draco got a chance to.

"And what do you know about my standing?" Draco quietly added.

"I know you almost killed Dumbledore!"

"That's enough, Ron!" Potter hit the table. Draco's eyebrows tried to shoot through the roof in surprise. Protected by Chosen One against the Weasel Sidekick was quite something.

"Well, sorry for having a well-informed opinion," Weasley muttered and pushed his chair back. "I'll be in the games room if anything comes up."

"Sorry, Malfoy. He just really doesn't get it."

"Forget it, Potter, you don't have to apologize for anything."

"Well, I'll thank you for that chessboard you found. We don't have to bother trying to play against him to calm him," Granger said.

"Yeah, at least the board has a chance against him, unlike anybody else in this house." Potter grinned.

"Never played against me," Draco said. "That would be good for the list, 'Potter loses against Weasley in chess and Malfoy does not."

"There is no way you can beat him, Malfoy. He once went against McGonagall, who was the reigning queen in Hogwarts, and he wiped the board with her."

"I guess that's a lost game then," Draco sighed.

"Literally," Granger told him. "By the way, I finished the classification of the books this morning. Care to help me arrange the books into the new shelves?"

"That reminds me I haven't seen the library yet," Potter said. "I think it's fair that the Master of the Black House knows what's going on."

"The Master of the House will roll his sleeves and help then," Granger poked him. "Do we need Kikuta-san, Malfoy?"

"I think I can handle the modifications now. And Sensei-san didn't seem to be well today, so we better not bother her."


Draco rolled his sleeves up and admired his work. The shelves were made from kamagong, an extremely rare species of ebony that had not been available in these quantities since the Philippine government started regulating its export. Draco was quite sure the Blacks had done a little black market business they were famous for to get these. The repaired and polished shelves were now complimented by dark forest green carpeting and beautiful leather armchairs matching the ones in the games' room next door, scattered here and there.

Each chair had its own reading-lamp peeking over the shoulder, so that the rest of the library could be left in a dim lighting that emphasized the books bound in black leather and their golden letters. Draco sighed with pleasure and drew a deep breath of the warm, dry library air that whispered of knowledge and secrets.

"Finished with this section!" Draco called Granger.

"Already? You're fast!" She poked her head to see the neatly arranged rows of books classified as 1.101 or more easily 'Books on Charms written in the 18th and 19th centuries'. "Next pile is 1.102."

"That is?"

"Charms written in the 20th century."

"You are charmingly logical, Granger."

"The studying of Charms made a huge leap in the 20th century. There's no sense putting them with the earlier ones." She took Draco to the hill of books he was to sort. "There's not much, as the Blacks seemed to have forgotten their literal hobbies as of late. Give it some empty space though, it'll fill up."

"Yeah, as soon as you manage to convince McGonagall that it is vital to have a budget of ten thousand Galleons for the Order library."

"We do need the latest information! Knowledge is power and I had to return most of the books I borrowed form Hogwarts now that the semester begun."

Draco stopped what he was doing and looked up. He hadn't realized that school had started.

"It's nice that the board decided to keep Hogwarts running." Potter slumped into a comfy leather armchair.

"Over half of the students aren't attending this year though," Granger said. "Parents want to keep their kids close these days."

"Idiots, as if Hogwarts still isn't one of the safest places in Britain."

"Dumbledore dead and one Death Eater invasion does not assure them too much."

"Luckily that gives McGonagall some more time with the Order."

With a gentle movement of his wrist Draco flew the books to their designated shelves and followed them quickly. The conversation was moving towards dangerous grounds.

"Malfoy." Draco spun around to see Granger standing at the end of the aisle.

"You know you'll have to face it sooner or later. You did what you did, but after that you made a good decision.Most of the Order recognise it was not your fault. We know more than you think we know."

Draco balled his fingers into a fist.

"I don't hate you, Draco," she said quietly. Draco looked up and saw her wearing a shy, but friendly smile.

"Thanks…Hermione."

"I think you'll turn out just fine." She turned around to go. "Thanks for the help, but you'd better get that assignment done."

"Any time. I'll go hunt Potter down."


Back in the attic Draco sat into his favourite white cushion. Potter moved a big pile of cushions and sank into them. They eyed each other nervously. Draco frowned at the silence that lowered itself between them, but he couldn't open his mouth to break it. Potter did, eventually.

"We have to get this done."

"I know."

"Umm… What about the fact that I don't have parents and you do?"

Draco started at Potter's first move. Bloody Gryffindors and their brave, idiotic forwardness.

"Actually… that does not apply anymore."

"Sorry?"

"My mother is dead and my father is as good as dead in Azkaban."

"Your mother, what?!"

"Dead. Since. June. End of discussion, next point."

"How?"

"Read my lips, Potter. Murdered. Now get out of my face."

Draco hid his face in his hands and drew deep gulps of air. Bloody Potter, never had any manners, any sensitivity, any wits, bloody Potter, always going into the things he is not supposed to go in…

"Erm, Malfoy, I'm...I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I bet you are. As if you aren't happy that you got rid of the 'Pure-Blood bitch who looked like she had something disgusting under her nose'?! I said, back off."

"No, really. I'm sorry you lost your mother."

Draco snorted, but peered through his fingers at Potter. He was practically squirming in his anguish. Embarrassed too, by the look of his face.

"I don't need pity, Potter, so don't give me any. Got it?"

Potter nodded.

"And don't you dare tell others. Please."

"Would you… like to talk about it?"

"NO. Potter, you ignorant moron, don't you know when to stop?"

"I'm a Gryffindor."

"Oh, yeah, forgot that." Draco emerged from behind his hands and stared at Potter in astonishment. He was actually throwing jokes (and good ones too).

"Who forgot to teach you manners when you were a child?"

"You do not want to go into that." Potters face tightened into a fierce scowl.

"I think you owe me." Draco just tried; he had no hope it would actually work. But Potter turned away, drew a deep breath and started to talk in a blank voice.

"I was raised by my aunt and uncle. They…they… well, I don't know about manners, but I did live in a cupboard under the stairs and do most of the housework."

"You're lying."

"You don't have to believe it."

"The Boy Who Lived? Under the stairs?"

"My relatives hate everything that relates to magic in any way, and tried to squish the magic out of me. They aren't very fond of me and could not care less if I was Jesus Christ himself. I get toothpicks and socks for presents."

"And you still defend Muggles? After they treated you like that!" Draco was horrified. He had known Muggles were below wizards, but they were this cruel?

"Malfoy, my relatives are not typical Muggles. There are wizards that aren't too nice either, you know?"

"Keeping a child with magical abilities in a cupboard? Forcing them to do all the housework? To suppress his talent? Not only are they cruel and sadistic, but they are imbeciles!" Draco was not listening.

"Calm down, Malfoy! Malfoy! Oi! Earth to blonde pureblood git!"

"Potter, how could you stand it? Why didn't you blast them or... squash them or…"

"I didn't know I was a wizard until I was eleven!"

"They didn't tell you you were a wizard?"

"Oh Merlin." Potter sank into his pile of cushions. Draco gradually got over his shock.

"Well, at least we got some points for the list," Potter said.

"I thought you were skinny when I saw you that day at Madam Malkin's!"

"You remember that day?"

"Of course I do!" Draco would probably never forget that day. The thin, shy boy and his enormous glasses, standing beside Draco getting their robes fitted on. How disappointed Draco had been when he had ran off so soon. He was just about to suggest him to try on the lovely green robes that Malkin's had received on just the same day.

"Do you remember what you said?"

"Why? I talked about going to Hogwarts, didn't I? Something about Hagrid, probably bit rude, considering what I had been told about him…"

"You said that kids that come from Muggle families shouldn't be let in. Kids that didn't know about Hogwarts before they got the letter."

"Oh…oh!"

"Yes, Malfoy. I had just heard there even was something called magic, let alone about being the Boy Who Lived."

Draco sunk into a thoughtful silence.

"Got a quill?"

"Huh? I mean, excuse me?"

"A quill? I broke the one I had before."

"Yeah, I got this from my room. It's Ever-Filled, don't dip in that bottle, Potter!"

"Well, I'm sorry! How should I know?"

"Look at the design! The stem is thicker than normal quills and actually, Potter, before you continue scrawling, let go of the quill and let it write on its own. It can do it by itself."

"We don't all know the secrets of quills," Potter muttered darkly.

"Concentrate or the quill will write garble. On a second thought, let me do it."

Draco summoned the parchment and quill to sit beside his cushion.

"So what were we going to write?"

"Well, you lived in a mansion as a child, and I in a cupboard under the stairs."

"And you had to dothe housework and I didn't."

"You always knew you were a wizard and I was told only just before I started Hogwarts."

Draco squinted at the script the quill was scribbling away magically.

"Something wrong?"

"Oh no, no, Potter. Let's continue."

Draco grinned inwardly. The quill copied perfectly Potter's hand. Draco was sure he would find that useful in one way or another.


That night Draco had a lot to think about. He had hated Potter for so long with such vigour that he had never stopped to think about it really. Potter always got everything Draco wanted, got away with anything and everybody loved him.

It was always Potter this and Potter that, Potter saves the day at last. Draco had always been jealous of him. And that angered him even more. Malfoys didn't need to be jealous. Malfoys were to be jealous of. But Potter, he broke the rules and got away with it.

But remembering back to that day when he had first met that scrawny boy with tussled up hair and a scared look in his eyes, Draco found himself hoping that he would have been brought up to be a nicer person.

Maybe he would have gotten a share of what Potter had, like Weasley and Granger.