Chapter Nine:

Hermione walked out of the floo, brushing soot off her robes. She looked up, seeing the two boys at a side angle on the couch. Draco's shirt was half pulled up over his head, she couldn't identify whose hands were where, and there was begging involved.

"Um, bad time?" she mumbled weakly, unsure if she wanted to get involved.

A thud echoed through the living area as Harry bolted upside, accidentally shoving Draco onto the floor.

"Oi! Potter!" Draco complained as he was managing to pull his shirt completely off so he could see again.

"Hermione!" Harry hopped up off the couch and straightened his shirt down before looking up at her, smiling sheepishly, "I didn't hear you floo in."

Hermione looked from Harry, then down to the Slytherin, who was righting himself, and back to Harry. "Apparently not." A small knowing smile passed her lips before he turned toward the kitchen and walked through the entryway.

Draco walked around the couch and stood next to Harry. "Do you always just let people into your house without an invitation?"

The raven-haired man turned to Draco with a smirk, "I do tend to let in the strays, don't I?"

In retrospect, the Gryffindor figured he deserved the shirt thrown in his face.

Draco followed Hermione into the kitchen, dreading the upcoming discussion he knew he had to have with the girl. He found her sitting at the table, books already open and papers spread all over, organized in some manner, he was sure of it. Resigning himself to his fate, he quietly took the seat across the table from her.

Hermione was about to speak, but stopped herself as she watched Harry walk in and put a white jumper down on the table. The blonde took it, quickly tossed it onto himself, pulling up the short zipper to his neck. Harry proceeded to make his way over to the kettle and made himself busy.

"Alright, Malfoy, let's get to it. The charges that Ron brought against you are very serious, but not well founded. Yes, you were a Death Eater, but at the same time any crime that you committed could be considered forced. In addition to that, you didn't call Voldemort in Malfoy Manor, which shows a lot in and of itself."

Harry appeared by the table once more with two cups of tea and put one in front of Draco, muttering, "Crème, no milk, and a spoon of sugar," which earned a small 'thanks', and sat next to the blonde, so he was facing her.

"So, you need to appear before the Wizengamot in two weeks." She was sure she didn't image the half glance that the two boys shared. "So I brought you a bunch of books about war crimes I want you to read over so you know what you are being charged with and how to defend yourself against such charges."

The Slytherin sighed and picked up the books that were scattered about.

"Thanks, Granger, can always count on you to make me suffer one way or another."

"Yeah well, better than slapping you across the face." Hermione stood up and gathered some of her stray papers together. "But now I have to go. Mum is expecting me over for dinner soon."

Harry walked her over to the fireplace and hugged her goodbye. She stepped into the ashes and held up her handful of floo powder.

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Hm?"

"By chance, what is my favourite colour?"

"Um...not really sure."

"Ah. What is Malfoy's favourite colour?"

"White. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just wondering. Bye!"

And in a green flash, the brunette was gone.

"In two weeks time. I guess we lucked out on that one, eh Potter?"

Harry turned around and he immediately noticed the jumper he grabbed for the blonde was white.

"Oh."

"Everything okay, Potter? Why are you looking at me funny?"

Harry's eyes drifted up from the jumper into the stormy gray ones. "What is your favourite colour? Green, isn't it?"

Draco's eyebrow raised and he looked amused, "Worried about the jumper you gave me? No worries, I love white actually, it's my favourite." Draco, arms full of books, went around to the staircase, "Need to get my beauty rest after all."

Harry's mind was still chasing after the colour issue, he didn't even realize when he muttered, "Don't need it."

Draco was half way up the stairs when he looked over one more time at Harry, and continued up the rest of the way. He plopped the books down onto the small table in his room and threw himself down onto the bed. He was asleep before the next minute passed.

Draco had hardly pulled his pants back up when Harry burst into his room once more.

"Malfoy! Come on, get dressed already!"

"Potter! Don't you ever, ever knock?"

Green eyes were lit with the fire again and a wide smile was on his face. "I want to take you to London!"

"And why is that?" he was curious now.

"Because, for once I don't have to hide, or watch my back! I can actually go out and have fun now, so that means you can bother to get your arse out of bed and...Malfoy? What is that?"

The blonde turned his head back to Harry and saw his confused and worried look. His gray eyes looked down and he swore to himself, seeing the bloody, wet rag not pushed under his bed completely. Thinking quickly, Draco picked up the rag, shrugged, and threw it into his laundry hamper.

"Must have been from the other day, didn't get put into the hamper properly." And he finished pulling on his jumper.

"I'll have to talk to Kreacher about it later." Draco lifted his head slightly, his hair obscuring his vision a bit as he looked into the green eyes. "So then, are you ready to go yet?"

"Potter, I just rolled out of bed! You can't at least let me do my hair before you badger me more than a Hufflepuff?"

"But you'll take hours on your hair, I just know it!" Harry mock complained.

"Oh, shut it you." Draco raised his arms and tossed his hair with his fingers, letting it fall back into place naturally. "See you downstairs."

"Wait! How did you do that?" Harry went chasing the blonde out of the room.

Draco hadn't felt so out of place since he was in the middle of the Death Eater ranks. He knew he kept getting stares and people whispering about him, or Harry, or both of them. Every time he tried to say anything to Harry though, he would always be told not to worry about it. Bloody optimism. Every time Draco tried to walk slower than the Gryffindor wanted, he would have his wrist grabbed and yanked forward, forcing him to walk with Harry, as opposed to trying to linger in the back and not be noticed.

The first shop that Harry dragged the Slytherin into was Flourish and Blotts, half of which was still being repaired from the damages of war. They spent the better part of an hour in the bookshop. Examining new books, talking and laughing over some of them.

"Hey look! This book has a page missing, looks like it was ripped out. Who would do that? Hermione would have their head!" Harry laughed and Draco took the book away from him, flushed when he saw the cover, and put it back on the shelf.

After they left Flourish and Blotts, it seemed that Harry was determined to drag Draco into nearly every shop in Diagon Alley, one by one. Draco stared longingly at Ollivanders, until the shorter man noticed and pulled him into Florean Fortescue's. The two sat on a small table outside, making sure Draco's back was to the wand shop, and the happy mood was brought back when the playful banter began.

"A little surprised to see you here, Malfoy. But then, I guess you would be cocky enough to think that you can have your back to hundreds of wizards and not feel threatened. I'd be careful of that attitude if I were you though, never know when someone might come along and cast a curse, accidentally of course."

"Weasley..." Draco half turned, his eyes shooting daggers at the ginger git. "What do you want?"

"What do I want? Oh, nothing of course. Not in front of hundreds of witn... wizards," Ron purposely caught himself.

"Is that a threat, Ron?" Harry's tone was low, and a threat in itself.

"And why would I need to threaten a wandless outcast?" Ron took a step back as Draco abruptly stood and turned to face him. Harry was out of his chair a second behind the blonde and grabbed Draco's forearm and pulled him back from Ron.

"Just leave it, Malfoy. Ron, why don't you just leave?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Golden Boy, didn't mean to interrupt your little date. But honestly Harry, you could do better than an abandoned little snake; his parent's probably just ditched him on purpose, you should do the same."

Harry heard the deep-throated growl and watched as Draco's eyes flashed blue. Using a bit of pressure, Harry pushed against Draco's chest with his free hand and lead him off, back inside the ice cream parlor. Once out of sight of Ron, Draco's eyes returned to gray and finally dropped down to meet the worried green ones. He sighed and leaned against the corner that he was lead to, bringing a hand up to rub the sweat from his brow.

"I know it's a stupid question, but are you alright?"

"No, no I don't think I am. I swear, I wanted to rip Weasley's throat out.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead on Draco's collarbone. "I know, I heard it. Just give him a bit of time, I'm sure he's just unwinding from the war. I bet he'll be fine once he gets used to you, is all."

"I don't he wants to get used to me, and frankly, I want nothing to do with him."

"Want to go home?" Harry didn't need to see the nod, he could feel it just fine, and he apparated them away from Diagon Alley and straight into the living room of Grimmauld Place.

The two boys broke away from one another and Draco stole a quick glance at the clock that was illuminated on the new electronic show thing that sat below the telly-thing.

"Hungry?" Draco asked Harry, who was still standing a step away from where they had appeared from.

"I could go for a bite."

"Sorry, Potter, no biting, never know what I'll catch." The boys shared a smile and the Slytherin disappeared into the kitchen.

"Seriously, Malfoy, I have a house elf, you don't have to do the cooking all the time." Harry followed a few seconds, watching Draco take a roast out of the fridge, unwrap it, and place it on the cutting board.

"Makes me feel useful," Draco muttered.

"With my marks in Potions, want me to try and cook?" Harry said with a laugh.

"I don't think you would be too bad at it, just need to focus is all."

"Wha-"

He was cut off from questioning or disagreeing as he was suddenly pulling by the blonde and a small knife was put carefully into his hand. Harry was put in front of the cutting board, with Draco to his back, and Draco's hand softly engulfed his own over the knife handle.

"Now, just smoothly rotate the knife into slicing." As he spoke, Draco moved their hands to cut small, but thick, slices into the chunk of roast that had been on the cutting board. "See, this isn't so hard, is it?"

Harry's curiosity got the better of him and he turned his head slightly toward Draco's. His eyes met the gray one and they stared at one another for a few seconds before Draco stepped back and away from Harry, grabbing a pot and filling it with water from the sink.

Harry mumbled, "Thank you for showing me," before he went to leave the kitchen. He turned at the doorway and looked around in time to see Draco snag the sliver of roast and slip it into his mouth raw.


And that is Chapter Nine! Let me know what you think you lovely readers! (And go love my beta for me!)