Sorry I have been AWOL for so long. I had some serious writer's block. Big thanks to SilentQuill and NiamhAingeal for being my betas!

Chapter 11

I woke up the morning after our fight and instinctively glanced over at the clock. It was a rare thing when I was up even a minute before I absolutely had to be, but that day I was off kilter from the beginning. Everything that had happened between Harry and I had me on overload. I needed some kind of reprieve from the next round.

With Harry staying with us, I had neglected the stables more than I had ever before. Guinevere seemed rather desperate for attention that day. She nudged my hand with her nose as if to tell me that it was her turn now. I laughed, and petted her. She was one of the few "people" who could be as demanding and persistent as I was. It's going to be just us for a while, girl, I signed.

My first trip around the arena, I went fairly slowly. When I was a kid, I had wanted more than anything to get into the jumping competitions, but my mother was always afraid that I'd get hurt. She never saw me really ride the way I wanted to. When I was on Guinevere, it was like we shared a brain. She would react to the slightest nuances of my mood. I think that's what made it so special for me. I didn't have to clarify anything. It was strange that my horse seemed to understand me better than any one person in my life.

I had just put Guinevere back in her stall when I felt a tap on my shoulder. My father looked out of place in the stable wearing an Armani suit. He wrinkled his nose as if to accent that very notion. "There had better be a very good reason for this, Draco."

I nodded, and squirmed uncomfortably. "Can we go inside?"

My father had a way of putting me on edge like no one else ever could. Maybe it was because it seemed like I was always under a microscope with him. Whatever it was, I never really got over it. As we walked up to the house, I was keenly aware of the way he stared at my dirty hands and jeans. It was all beneath him. I was beneath him.

By the time we were settled in his study, I was beginning to doubt the wisdom of my little plan. "I didn't think you'd come so quickly," I told him nervously.

He raised a silvery brow at that. "Draco, I don't have time for games. If there is a problem, I will handle it. Now what was so important that you had me come all the way from the city?"

"It's Harry," I began. "I read the file you had on him."

A thin smile touched his lips. "Did you? I knew your mother would give it to you eventually."

Shit. I realized too late that I had betrayed my mother's trust. "No, I found it on my own," I lied. I could tell that he didn't believe me, but that didn't matter.

My father's smile only widened. "I wanted you to read it, Draco. You're old enough to know things now, and you're old enough to come to your own conclusions. What did you think of it?"

My hands ached to sign, but I knew that would get me nowhere. "I can only think of one thing, and I hope I'm wrong." I stopped. Even in sign, I don't think I could have gotten the words out right then.

"And what if you aren't? What if I agree with you? It's not what's in that file, Draco, but what's not that is important. I'm sure you realize what that means." The grim look in his gray eyes told me that he had come to the same conclusion that I had.

"They want him to kill himself."

"Very good, Draco. I knew you would figure it out eventually." His features darkened. "The Dursleys are a sick bunch. They don't stand a shot at getting their hands on the Potter fortune so long as Harry is alive. If he dies suspiciously, that wouldn't look good for them, but if it was clearly suicide…"

"There's no one left to inherit but them." My stomach was turning. It all made sense now. Every insult was a planned attack on Harry's sanity. He thought of himself as a freak because that was how they had taught him to think. Harry had been raised only so that he could kill himself.

"Harry is an interesting boy," he began. "I am truly surprised he's lived as long as he has. The file I gave your mother is incomplete. I knew that you would read it, and there were certain things that I was still piecing together myself, but I see no point in keeping it from you now. The Dursleys are fighting to get Harry out of Hogwarts. They claim that the school is to blame for Harry's recent depression. Petunia gave a heartfelt plea to the judge at the last hearing, but Dumbledore came through. He may seem the sweet old man, yet I don't know many people who would have him for an enemy. Dumbledore's mentored everyone from Supreme Court justices to congressmen to the wealthiest businessmen in America. From what I can tell, he loves Harry like a son."

"But why would you care if I knew that?" I asked.

"Dumbledore is exactly the type of person they don't want Harry around….and so are you. I got a call from Vernon last week telling me what kind of trouble Harry has been in since he met you. He wanted Harry sent home."

Anger flashed over me. "You won't send him!" I cried.

Smiling, my father shook his head. "Of course not, I have other plans for my dear cousin's godson."

"You're going to help Sirius get Harry back? But what about all of the scandal?"

"Unavoidable, I'm afraid. And Sirius has done so much to get himself put back together—how could I turn my back on family…especially after his little visit?"

My mouth dropped. "You knew about that?"

"I own these walls. What makes you think I don't know what goes on within them?" Right then I knew that Harry's eating disorder was no secret. I didn't know how he knew, but I think he knew everything that we had done this summer with only a few exceptions.

"Then you know that Harry's been sick?" I asked shakily.

My father nodded. "You need to trust me to take care of things, Draco." He straightened his tie, and I could tell that was the end of the matter. "I'll be taking your mother to lunch," he added.

Our conversation left me a little more relaxed. I knew that my father would never fail at something like this. No, there was too much to be gained from Harry. I wasn't naive enough to mistake my father's concern for compassion, but at least Harry would be away from those vultures.

I found Harry in his room at the art desk. In front of him was a drawing of Ron and Hermione. Even though I really couldn't stand the pair, I had to admit that I liked the piece. "Do you miss them?"

Harry turned and smiled at me. "Yes. I know you don't like Ron."

I laughed because Harry used the sign that I had given Ron. "I don't,"

I agreed. "Hermione isn't too bad."

Harry shrugged. "They're still my best friends….other than you," he added. "I spent a week at Ron's last summer. Vernon got nervous when Mr. Weasley mentioned that he was in the FBI, and let me go. The other Weasleys are all great….well, except Percy. Mrs. Weasley even made me a sweater for Christmas."

By the end of our conversation, I was already getting a very good idea of what to do for Harry's birthday. That night, I logged onto the Internet using Harry's password. (Figuring out that his password was "Gretzky" wasn't very hard.) There were only two email addresses in his saved folder, and that didn't surprise me in the least. I decided that it was best to let Granger talk Weasel into my plan. Somehow, I didn't think that he'd willingly go along with anything I suggested.

It turned out I was right. The next morning I received an email from Granger:

Draco,

It's good to hear that you and Harry are getting along alright. I had been worried about that. I'd really love to be a part of this. Ron might not agree to it at first, but I know I can get him to go along with it for Harry's sake. Despite what you might think, Ron isn't a bad person.

See you then,

Hermione

The thirty-first came in the blink of an eye. I still hadn't let on that I knew it was his birthday that morning, and Harry didn't seem bothered at all by that fact. He was sitting contentedly on a bale of hay in the barn drawing a picture of Guinevere when I found him. "Where were you?" he asked when he saw me come in.

I had been inside working out the last few minor details. I shrugged. "Emailing Blaise. He's wants us to come out and spend the day at his house."

"Would you mind if I just stayed here?" he asked with a frown.

"You have to come. Blaise thinks you hate him."

"I do not!" Harry said adamantly. He set aside his sketch book, and ran a hand through his hair. "I just don't want to go anywhere today."

"We won't be long," I told him.

Finally, he crack. His shoulders heaved in a heavy sigh, and I could see the resignation in his eyes. "OK."

"Let's get going. I want to be out there by lunch," I said casually. This was harder than I'd imagined.

All the way in the back of our car, I kept stealing glances at him as we rode. Harry looked sad, and it was hard for me to feign ignorance. I knew that he thought I didn't notice, but how could I not see the pain in his eyes. I hoped that my surprise would be enough to banish that look. I wanted to make up for the disappointment he'd felt on all the other birthdays. I wanted Harry to see that I was glad that he was born.

We made it to Blaise's house earlier than I would've liked. I kept telling Blaise to stall every time Harry looked away. Luckily, being fashionably late was always Blaise's forte. He managed to shave off over an hour, and I breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled up to the restaurant right on time.

I had chosen an upscale Asian place for the occasion. I knew that Harry wouldn't really appreciate the cuisine as much as the atmosphere. As soon as we stepped in to the elegant building, Harry's attention instantly went to an antique Japanese scroll on the wall. I couldn't help but smile. Blaise practically had to drag him away from the jade statues to get him to the back room.

The entire back room was filled with friends. The Weasley clan had made it, as had Hermione, who was responsible for the rest of the guest list. Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnegan, Angelina Johnson, Colin Creevy, and Dean Thomas had all made the trek into the city for the party. Despite the fact that none of them were my friends, I couldn't be happier. For a moment, I don't think Harry was able to really understand what was happening. The look of absolute shock across his face was enough to make me want to cry. He really didn't understand that this was for him. Then, a frumpy red-haired woman—none other than Mrs. Molly Weasley—came rushing up to Harry and crushed him in a giant hug. I didn't even attempt to try and figure out what she was saying, but it did seem to make Harry smile. I think that was when it really sunk in for Harry that every person in this room was there because of him.

Hermione came up to me with a wide smile. "Nice work."

I shrugged. You too. I glanced over at Ron who was scowling at me from the other side of the room. I can't imagine it was easy to get him here.

It wasn't as bad as you'd think. He's Harry's best friend, and I don't think even you can change that, she told me.

I looked over to see Harry engulfed in a sea of Weasleys. I had, of course known Ron from school, and I recognized the younger girl, as well as the twins and Percy. Behind them were two young men who looked to be in their twenties, and a man about my father's age. I studied the group from a distance, until Harry waved me over. He introduced me to each one spelling out each name deftly in sign.

Ron stayed back from us for the most part. I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes at his stupidity. Deciding that it was for Harry, I found an excuse to go find Blaise. From the corner of my eye, I caught Harry and Ron laughing.

On my way over, I was hailed by the petite Asian man with whom I had set up the party. He squirmed uneasily, and I knew something was wrong. It only took a few sentences to realize that this moron couldn't grasp the concept of speaking slowly and clearly, and I turned to Blaise, who was laughing. It seems Mrs. Weasley refused to let them use the cake from the bakery, he told. She brought one that she made.

Biting back my anger, I followed a waiter to the kitchen to inspect the cake. To my absolute horror, it was a huge lopsided thing piled high with chocolate icing, and "Happy Birthday Harry" written in tacky Gryffindor red and gold. By now, Blaise was in stitches. I buried my face in my hands. Breathing deeply, I regained my composure.

Tell them to bring out this…thing for the singing, and then bring out the cake later, I told Blaise irritably. In my mind, this nearly ruined the perfect vision I had for the party.

When the lopsided abomination came out though, Harry's eyes were wide with joy. I could hardly believe it. As the lights dimmed, I fidgeted. Everyone around me was singing, and Blaise later assured me that it was one of the times I should be glad to be deaf. I watched Harry's eyes reflecting the light of the tiny flames. He looked so happy. Perhaps ever happier than he had after his day with Sirius. Mrs. Weasley came up beside him, and planted a motherly kiss on his forehead after he blew out the candles. Then it hit me: Harry really missed out on that part of life. All of my doubt about the party washed away.

Harry took his time opening gifts. He was truly grateful for each one, not just putting on a good face. Even the book that Hermione got him warranted a smile. I could hardly wait until I gave him my gift, but that was going to be something for later.

I hung back from the crowd for most of the parties. I always felt awkward at things like this. My deafness left me somewhat disconnected from the group. For as happy as I was at that moment, part of me was wishing that things could be different. Many of my deaf friends only dated other deaf people, and I understood why. Things were easier when there weren't any misconceptions or barriers between two people, but I knew I wouldn't trade Harry for anyone in the world.

The party lasted until the early evening, and I was thankful to have Harry to myself again. In the car, I watched him put the privacy barrier up before he slid next to me in the seat. Thank you.

I smiled. "Happy Birthday, Harry."

"Draco, I…No one has ever done that for me. How did you know?" he asked blushing slightly.

"Hermione," I lied. I didn't want him to know anything about the file. God only knows what he'd say if he knew everything that my father was starting. Would he be pleased? Something told me that his pride wouldn't allow it. For now, I reasoned, it was better for him to think that Hermione had told me.

He nodded. "Draco, I…" His face was now bright red.

I laughed. "Are you ever going to finish that sentence?"

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed me. I was so shocked that I barely registered his tongue slipping past my lips until I was pulling him in tighter. God, I'd been waiting for this! To hell with patience, every thought left my head. Kissing Harry was even better than I'd imagined it would be. I never wanted to let him go, but I felt the car come to a halt. Neither of us realized that we had been making out for almost the entire hour-and-a-half-long drive.

We both scrambled to opposite ends of the seat, and did our best to feign disinterest. Looking back, it blows my mind that we ever thought we were being discreet. I couldn't wipe the cat-that-ate-the-canary grin off of my face, and Harry's bottom lip was slightly swollen. My mother must have known. She would have been blind not to see it as we rushed up the stairs to the privacy of my room.

Harry was shy again once the door was closed. This time, it was my turn to take the first step. I pulled him toward me cupping his face. My hormones were raging in ways that I'd never experienced before. I wanted to strip his clothes off right then and there, but I couldn't…not yet. Even my testosterone-blurred mind couldn't change that. Harry trembled slightly, and I pulled back. "Why did you wait so long?" I demanded.

"I was afraid you wouldn't want me," he replied. I could tell he was fighting the urge to look away.

"You're joking? Why wouldn't I want you?" He raised an eyebrow, and gave me a look that said: Isn't it obvious? I sighed heavily. "God, Harry, I've wanted you forever."

He laughed. "Once you stopped hating me!"

I sniffed indignantly. "Well, Potter, look at who you hang out with."

We both laughed at that. It felt wonderful to be just us, and even better to have finally kissed him. I wondered how much farther we could go at this point, but pushed that thought to the back of my mind. I decided that it was time for a distraction. "I didn't give you your present yet."

"But the party…"

"Wasn't it," I said cutting him off. I pulled a large box out of my closet.

He stared at it for a moment, and then carefully began to undo the gold ribbon. I had nearly gagged wrapping the thing in more ugly red and gold, but I knew he'd appreciate it. Now, I wanted to see him shred the paper, but he was very careful about not ripping it. Finally, the lid was off and he pulled out one of several smaller boxes nestled inside. Thankfully, he went much quicker with these. The first one was an art book I had seen him eying at the store on the impressionists. He smiled up at me, and I motioned for him to keep going. Next came boxes filled some of the art supplies I knew he wanted: oil paints, charcoals, pastels, and a number of fine brushes. With two more to go, he picked the smaller of the pair. It was a box filled with several of his favorite DVDs, and that seemed to puzzle him. I knew that he didn't have a way to watch them at home. I smiled as I watched the paper. He pulled out a new laptop nearly identical to my own.

"Draco, are you sure? I mean this is really expensive."

I laughed. "Dad doesn't even look at my credit card bills anymore."

He rolled his eyes. Harry had been with me on some of my trips into Neiman Marcus. "I don't even know what to say. Thank you."

I couldn't resist the temptation to kiss him again. From now on, I knew that things were going to be different between us.