Author's Note: Well, somehow I managed to get another chapter completed and posted before I go on vacation. I hope everyone has/had/will have a pleasant (insert religious holiday here) or Winter Solstice. I'm a Christmas kind of person myself, so I'm now basking in the afterglow, so to speak. Special thanks to freakhaven for being the inspiration for a lot of this chapter. She very kindly suggested that Professor Marion was in danger of becoming a little one-dimensional because he was almost too perfect. Must be rough. Thanks again to everyone who reads and reviews this, and Happy New Year!

Disclaimer: Not mine, it's fun,rated 'K+'; not your cup of tea? Use the force...er, the 'back' button. No furry woodland creatures were harmed in creation of this chapter. Professor Marion has a bad couple of days, Harry's bank account takes a beating, and Draco gets pantsed. If that's a word. On with the show.

Chapter 12 – The Plot Thickens

The next morning at breakfast Professor Marion was seated next to Hagrid, chatting amiably about Spade-Footed Gangletoppers when he looked up to see the Headmaster standing over him, smiling.

"I wonder, Professor Marion, if you would have a minute to chat in my office after you've finished breakfast? Do not rush." Professor Marion nodded, surprised. "Excellent, I will see you shortly." The Headmaster then ambled off toward his office whistling tunelessly.

For some reason, Brandon Marion felt like he had just been called to the principal's office. It turned out that this was accurate. Professor Dumbledore had heard, third-hand, about the incident on the Quidditch pitch the day before, and had been slightly curious as to why Draco Malfoy had been allowed to take part in the game in the first place, and why he, as Headmaster, hadn't been informed directly of Draco's injuries. Professor Marion had left the Headmaster's office feeling much like he had after every visit to the Headmaster's office during his school years at Hogwarts. It was well known that both James and Brandon Potter were sent to see the Headmaster on a regular basis, and this most recent visit had left Professor Marion feeling again like the twelve-year old boy he once had been. The Headmaster had not gotten angry, or even really chastised the young professor, he simply radiated an aura of disappointment and reminded the professor of his responsibilities; this was punishment enough for the professor, who left the Headmaster's office feeling quite dejected.

September turned quickly into October with the accompanying change in the weather. Leaves on trees began to turn and a few overexcited ones even fell. Students and teachers alike began to dig through their wardrobes in an effort to find their winter clothing, just in case there was an unexpected cold snap. Professor Marion, whose wardrobe was more well-suited for the southern United States than for Scotland, found himself most unprepared for the onset of autumn. Hermione came to the rescue by taking a break from knitting clothing for the house-elves and knitting the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor a nice scarf, which he seemed to be wearing every time Hermione was around.

Draco and the Golden Trio (some more suspicious and brave students were now surreptitiously referring to the four of them as the Golden Quartet; a very few very foolish or very brave students referred to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco as the 'Unholy Alliance', but never out loud) continued their routine, even after Draco's collarbone had healed sufficiently to remove the sling by the end of September. At first there had been no small amount of anxiety on both Harry and Draco's part (though they didn't talk about it); they had both become quite fond of each other, and they were afraid they wouldn't get to enjoy their developing friendship without the superficial excuse of Draco's broken collarbone as a reason for them to be seen together. They shouldn't have worried. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco still had all of their classes together (Harry had taken over as Draco's Potions partner by now), they studied together in the library in the evenings, and as Ron and Hermione sometimes were so engrossed in each other while they did homework, Harry and Draco had plenty of time to 'hang out', as Harry's uncle called it. None of the students seemed to understand some of the professor's Americanisms. Harry had asked about 'hanging out' and when his uncle had explained the meaning said, "Wow. I always called that 'being bored.'

Indeed, Harry and Draco had discovered that in spite of their past differences, they had many things in common. Draco found Harry to be impulsive, emotional, relatively smart, completely loyal, and annoying. He also found the raven-haired boy easy to talk to and relate to. He was humble, modest, and very down to earth. Harry found Draco to be uptight, arrogant, totally brilliant, and very sly and calculating. He was obnoxious, whiny, bigoted, and a prat. He also found Draco easy to talk to. They were getting along famously. They did occasionally feel the need to downplay their friendship as some of the students were fairly suspicious of the two of them. Harry had heard mutterings, as had Draco through Ivy, that some students thought Draco was "up to something" and trying to get into Harry's good graces, for some sinister purpose. The Slytherins thought they had the real scoop; only a select few knew the real truth.

Professor Marion had initially been quite suspicious of Draco's friendship with Harry as well. He had been cured of this when he heard a knock on his apartment door one evening after dinner. He knew it wasn't Harry – the professor's nephew never knocked any more, he just walked in and made himself comfortable.

"Oh, hello Draco. I'm surprised to see you. Harry's not here at the moment. I'm not sure where he is actually," the professor said with a frown. Professor Marion couldn't recall when he'd seen Draco without Harry; the blond boy was quite clingy, in the professor's opinion.

"Yes, sir…he's at Quidditch practice…er, I uh…" Draco trailed off looking most uncomfortable.

Draco and Professor Marion stared at each other for a few moments. Draco was wondering if it had been wise to seek out Harry's uncle, in spite of the professor's invitation. Professor Marion was trying to assess his feelings towards Harry's new friend. Lucius Malfoy, during the professor's school years, while not openly involved with You-Know-Who, had been clearly predisposed in that direction. He was cunning, sly, and almost obsessive about the need to maintain the "purity" of the wizarding world. There were even rumors that he had been involved in some suspicious occurrences involving Dark magic; nothing was ever proven. It was a well known fact that all Malfoys had been predisposed for centuries to the Dark arts, and Professor Marion had no reason to believe that young Draco was any different. The fact that he and Harry had suddenly become friends made the Professor even more suspicious, but because Dumbledore seemed willing to go along with it, he had not spoken of his concern to Harry. Professor Marion looked at the boy in front of him and wondered what made him different. Seeing Draco's obvious discomfort, he set that thought aside for the moment, and decided he should invite the Slytherin boy in, to be polite, if for no other reason.

"I've just conjured some fresh coffee. Why don't you come in and have a cup, and we can chat for a bit." The blonde boy entered somewhat tentatively, but smiled brightly when the professor mentioned coffee.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

They seated themselves in the overstuffed chairs in front of the fire, where Dexter was sleeping, uninterested as ever. Draco, having doctored his coffee with an impressive amount of cream and sugar, was looking nervously around the room, as if he were trying to gather his courage to speak. Professor Marion decided to be direct. "Draco, why don't you tell me what happened to you this summer?" He took a sip of his coffee, and watched the boy over the rim of his coffee cup as he did so.

Draco's eyes went a little wide, but the Malfoy training kicked in, and he maintained his composure. "You mean Harry hasn't told you?"

"Just the barest details that you sent him and Dumbledore a letter saying that you were afraid to become a Death Eater."

Draco nodded resignedly and told Professor Marion about his childhood and how his father had changed over the years following Voldemort's banishment by baby Harry Potter. He talked about the events of the summer, and his sister and mother, and how he was worried about them. He talked about how hurt he had been when Harry had rejected his friendship their first year, and how Draco had hated Harry for that. Draco found that the more he talked about it the easier it got, even if it was still very hard to bring it up, or admit all these feelings and emotions to anyone else.

Professor Marion was forced to re-evaluate his perception of Draco Malfoy. It was true that the Malfoy predisposition toward the Dark Arts was very much there, but there was a short time when Lucius Malfoy had amazingly been a good, caring father, and something stuck in young Draco. Professor Marion was surprised at the depth of feeling and maturity in the blond boy. He now felt much more comfortable that Draco's sudden friendship with Harry was not the result of a spur-of-the-moment decision on Draco's part, or even of some evil plan of Lord Voldemort's. Rather, it was the tangible action brought about by years of stifled feelings and emotions working their way to the surface of a very confused and emotional but cautious, intelligent, and rational teenager.

Both Professor Marion and Draco Malfoy were feeling more comfortable with the situation. As such, Professor Marion gently said, "I have the feeling you didn't show up on my doorstep just so I would have the opportunity to interrogate you; nor did you need to come to my apartment just for a cup of coffee."

Draco looked uncomfortable again. The fact of the matter was that he was really feeling down about everything going on in his life at the moment, and needed to talk to someone, but Harry was at Quidditch practice with the rest of the Gryffindor team. Normally, Draco could have waited, but for some reason, the need to vent was pressing on Draco like an anvil, and he remembered that Harry's uncle had told him if he needed anything he was welcome, so Draco had gathered up his courage and went to see Professor Marion. "Well…I guess…um, I just felt like I needed to talk to someone, and Harry's at Quidditch, and normally I'd talk to him, but I can't so I remembered that you said to let you know if you could ever do anything, and…"

Professor Marion figured it was most unusual for Draco to be as nervous and fidgety as he appeared right now. Draco was always very calm and self-possessed, both in class, and when they interacted outside the classroom. He interrupted the boy, "Draco, it's all right. There's no need to be nervous. It's perfectly okay for you to be bent out of shape about something and need to talk. Just because you've been raised a Malfoy doesn't mean you have to be an unemotional robot all the time. Sometimes, it's OK to be a nearly fourteen-year-old boy. In fact, most of the time it's OK." The edges of the professor's mouth quirked up in the barest hint of a smile. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Draco nodded, relieved. He was being a bit foolish, really, and the professor was very reassuring, just like Harry always was. 'That must run in the family, too,' he thought.

"I think I'm just having a hard time because all my life I thought I had lots of friends, and everybody wanted to be like me. I'm Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sake, who wouldn't want to be like me?" Draco said sarcastically. "Now everyone hates me, and I don't know how to deal with that."

"Ah, I see. You feel alone."

Draco smiled sadly, "You said that much better than I did."

"I understand. Draco, do you have any friends?"

"What? Of course I do! Well, I did. Now, really, Harry is my only friend, I suppose," he said sadly, looking down at his feet.

"You've learned a lot since the summer, haven't you? About yourself and about life and friendships?"

Draco had no clue where the professor was going with this. "Er, I suppose so," he said with a confused look on his face.

"I think there's one more thing you need to learn. You may think Harry is your only friend, but he's not. It's true your old 'friends,' who were never really your friends anyway, have deserted you. You've made new friends, and I can tell you definitively that because you've been a good friend to Harry, you have other friends that you may not even know about. In fact, you may have 'friends' that you would not consider friends except for your friendship with my nephew."

Draco still looked confused. "You mean that a person who I don't like and who doesn't like me might be my friend just because Harry is? That doesn't make any sense. Why would they do that?"

"You're right, that doesn't make any sense. You may not like someone very much, but you still care about them because someone you care about sees value in that person and cares about them. It's kind of a respect thing." Draco looked more confused. "Here, take Ron Weasley for example." Draco gritted his teeth slightly. "You don't particularly like Ron, and he doesn't like you. But the two of you are nice to each other, right?"

"Yes…" Draco admitted grudgingly.

"And Ron would back you up in a tight situation, right?"

"Well, yes, but only because Harry would do the same thing," grumbled Draco.

Professor Marion thought, 'Harry's right, this boy really is kind of whiny. "Exactly! Ron may not like you very much, but he treats you as a friend because you and he are both Harry's friends. He respects you in the same way he respects Harry, and because of his respect for Harry."

Draco looked thoughtful. Professor Marion thought he could see the light bulb go off in the blond boy's head.

"Think on that for a while, Draco and I think you will find that you have more friends than you know, and that you are not nearly as alone as you think. In time, those 'friends by association' will become real friends. You'll see."

Draco's brain was hurting, but his heart felt better. He and Professor Marion chatted for a few more minutes, then the Slytherin boy took his leave, bending over to scratch Dexter, who hadn't moved from his place in front of the fire, on his way out the door. As he left Professor Marion said to the cat in a low voice, "There, Dexter, is proof that you should not judge a book by it's cover." He poured himself another cup of coffee and contemplated the strangeness of a world where a Malfoy had something less than a heart of stone.

Harry had continued to spend time during his free period with his Uncle. They spent most of their time asking each other questions about their respective pasts, and though he had tried, Harry had been unable to find anything else out about the Dragon's Tear. His uncle was far too careful about keeping his research out of the sight of prying eyes. Harry had learned that his own first name was his uncle's middle name – Brandon Harold Potter. That had given Harry a nice, warm feeling. Harry couldn't begin to describe how it felt to have family again.

Brandon was equally glad to have been reunited with what was left of his family, but over the course of the previous several weeks he had found it increasingly difficult to deal with the emotions of being inserted suddenly into his forgotten life. On one hand, he was grateful that Professor Dumbledore had acted to save Brandon from meeting the same fate as his brother, but at the same time, he saw the Headmaster making similar decisions with Harry, and he had to wonder why the Headmaster felt empowered to play God with other people's lives.

The professor continued to put up a strong front, teaching his classes, organizing impromptu Quidditch matches on the weekends, and spending time with his nephew, who was becoming very fond of his uncle. Unfortunately, the questions that Harry asked often dredged up memories that Brandon would have preferred to keep buried. It all came to a head one afternoon a few days after the professor's conversation with Draco Malfoy when Harry asked about Sirius Black.

"Uncle Brandon, did you know my Godfather?"

"You mean Sirius Black?"

"Yes."

The professor was slient for a moment, as if trying to remember something long-forgotten. "Somewhat. He was your Dad's best friend after all. Mostly I remember that he and James liked to torment me, when they couldn't find Severus Snape, that is.

"Did you ever hear what happened to him after my parents were killed?" Harry asked softly.

"Yes. I do recall Dumbledore telling me about it when he explained why I had to go live with my distant relatives in America," Brandon replied cautiously. Strange and uncomfortable memories were stirring in his brain.

"It was all wrong," Harry stated simply.

"What?" The professor looked wide-eyed at his nephew.

"It wasn't Sirius that betrayed my parents. It was Petter Pettigrew."

Brandon was in the process of sipping on his cup of coffee, not surprisingly, and this simple statement caused him to choke on the hot liquid. It was some moments before he could stop coughing long enough to respond in a shaky voice, "Peter….Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes." Harry explained all about the events of the prior year, about Professor Lupin and Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban, and Peter Pettigrew, and how Sirius was now on the run.

Brandon had to think fast. The mention of Peter Pettigrew called some long forgotten memories to the torpid surface of the professor's brain – memories that would have to be dealt with, but in front of his nephew was not the right time or place. He wondered why Professor Dumbledore hadn't reminded him of all this. 'I'll add that to the list of things I want to ask him when the time is right,' he thought darkly.

"I…see," was all Brandon could bring himself to say. He and Harry chatted for several minutes longer before Harry went to study with the rest of the Golden Quartet. As he exited his uncle's apartment, he noted that his uncle had begun acting strangely at the mention of Sirius and Peter Pettigrew, and wondered what that was all about.

After his nephew left, Brandon Marion rose from his chair, and with shaking hands walked slowly into his study and locked the door. There he unlocked a cabinet that stood discreetly in the corner – it was only opened on very rare and needful occasions - and pulled out a bottle labeled 'Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whisky' and poured a three-finger shot into the glass on the top shelf of the cabinet. He knocked back the stiff drink and then collapsed into his chair, one hand rubbing his face, thinking furiously.

'Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Why didn't I remember this before?' he thought. 'Sirius was at the Quidditch match earlier in the week James and Lily died. It was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, and he and James always liked to watch me play. James wasn't there because he and Lily and Harry were in hiding, but Sirius came to watch anyway. I remember asking him where they were in hiding, like a fool, and Sirius patted me on the back and said, "I'd not tell you even if I knew, Brandon, which I don't because I'm not the Secret-Keeper. Peter Pettigrew is." I can't believe I didn't remember that conversation later after I'd heard that Sirius betrayed my brother, and they were all dead except for Harry. Everything was so confusing, and I was no older than Harry is now.' The professor got up and poured himself another drink.

He was remembering more, 'Peter Pettigrew. I always wondered why Sirius, Remus, and James put up with him. I remember walking down to the Quidditch pitch with my broom the day after the match to do some flying by myself when I overheard someone saying something about "still at school" and "take care of him after the elder," but when I called out, and walked toward the where the voice had come from the edge of the forest, the only thing I saw was a scared looking rat that immediately ran away. That must have been Peter Pettigrew, talking to someone about having me killed, after James and Lilly. I heard, and I knew, but I didn't put it all together. I could have prevented all of it, and I didn't.' With that realization, Brandon Marion got up and poured his third very stiff drink. Returning once again to his chair he said to himself, 'How in the world do I tell Harry that I could have stopped Voldemort from killing his parents and throwing my brother's best friend in prison? How do I clear Sirius Black's name, a pitiful gesture, really, when you consider how royally I've screwed up so many lives, without giving away who I am, and endangering both Harry and myself again?' There were no answers for the now-tormented professor, and he sat there in his office staring at nothing for a very long time.

At about the same time as Brandon Marion was confronting his inner demons, Draco had been pondering his Potions professor. He hadn't really had time to process it before, but he was just now realizing that Severus Snape was not all that he seemed to be. Draco and Snape had always gotten along well, with Severus a Death Eater, and almost as closely involved with the Dark Lord as Lucius Malfoy. Draco was excellent at Potions, a fact which endeared him to Snape even more, plus he was in Slytherin house. Thus it was that Draco hadn't really been surprised when Snape showed up to rescue Draco from Malfoy Manor, but now that he was thinking about that; the broader implications of Severus going against the Dark Lord where frightening at best.

Draco heard the door of his room open, and Ivy entered. Draco looked at a clock on the wall. Where had the afternoon gone? He set aside his musings on his Potions professor, and turned to his sister who had a grim look on her face. Seeing the look on her face, he too frowned, and said, "What's the matter, little sis?"

"I've just had the bad fortune to run into Marcus Flint," she said as she sat on Draco's bed. Draco set his quill down on the desk and gave his full attention to his sister. Marcus Flint was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, for which Draco was Seeker. Strangely, Draco hadn't heard from Flint about practices or anything yet that term.

"And what did Flint want?" asked Draco coldly.

Ivy looked at her older brother with a sad expression. "I'm sorry, Draco, but he said you were off the team, and…well, he asked me to replace you as Seeker, seeing as how I 'still had possession of my mental capacities' is how he put it.' (")

Draco didn't say anything for nearly a minute. Ivy noticed that her brother had gritted his teeth and that a vein in his forehead was throbbing dangerously. She began to get nervous and fidget. Finally, Draco spoke in a very quiet, dangerous voice, "You tell Flint that I don't need to be on his bloody team, and that if he crosses me, I won't need my wand, because I'm going to rip his skin from his bones with my bare hands."

Ivy had never seen her brother that angry. "Y…You're not mad at me Draco, are you?"

Draco's expression softened immediately, and he got up from the desk and walked toward Ivy. She shied away from him, but he put his arm around her anyway. "You? Of course not! You'll make an excellent Seeker; certainly better than any of those other fools on the team. I swear they have two brains– one is lost, and the other one is out looking for the first. Don't worry about it, Ivy. I'll be fine." Draco smiled at his sister.

"Alright, Drakey, I'm trusting you on this. I'll make you proud."

Draco rolled his eyes at his sister. Harry called him 'Drakey' every once in a while too, and he wanted to kick someone every time it happened. "I know you will, sis. You watch out for yourself, OK?"

Ivy nodded, and snuck back out into the hallway. She didn't see the look of cold steel that came over Draco's face before he too left his room to go find Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

He found them in the first place he looked – their usual table at the back of the library. They were whispering quietly about something. Hermione appeared to be rather excited about something she had found in an old tome when Draco exploded onto the scene. "I'm off the bloody team!" he all but yelled, the vein in his forehead throbbing again.

Madam Pince, the librarian, had been re-shelving books several rows over. At Draco's outburst she dropped the books she was carrying, generating a small cloud of dust. Coughing, she hissed, "Quiet!" at the blond boy, who grimaced slightly before responding, "Sorry."

Harry looked at his friend, concerned. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Draco this worked up about something. Hermione and Ron were looking concerned about it, too.

Draco sat down and related what Ivy had told him.

"Wow, I'm really sorry, Draco. That's awful," Hermione sympathized when Draco had finished.

"Yeah, Malfoy. That's pretty rough," Ron agreed.

Harry tried to be encouraging. "I know she's your sister, Draco," Harry blushed a bit when he mentioned Ivy, "but I seriously doubt she'll be as good a Seeker as you. As for the rest of them, well, they can jump off a cliff for all I care. You can always play with us on the weekends." Draco and Hermione both noticed Harry blushing, and made a mental note; Ron was oblivious as usual.

Draco was surprisingly encouraged at Harry's statement. "Thanks, Harry." He smiled weakly.

Harry continued on, "We were just about to come looking for you. Hermione's found some stuff on the…"

"Shhh!" Hermione admonished him.

"Er, sorry," Harry said in a whisper. "She's found some stuff on the Dragon's Tear." Hermione handed Draco the tome she was reading. It was in runes, which gave Draco no trouble, as he had already taken one year of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts.

"Bloody hell, don't tell me you can read those things too!" exclaimed Ron.

"Not everyone spends their time playing Exploding Snap, Ronald. Some of us like to actually be productive," sniffed Hermione. Draco and Harry both snorted. They all waited quietly while Draco read from the book.

Draco looked up from the book a few minutes later, (.) "So basically, the Dragon's Tear is this big gem that Merlin and King Arthur created that has magical powers. Do we know what magical powers they are?" Hermione handed Draco another book, and he read some more. "Merlin's bloody beard!" he exclaimed some minutes later and he began to read out loud. "'The Dragon's Tear is a powerful amulet that has many magical properties, the foremost of which is its ability to aid the spell caster, under proper conditions, in returning a disembodied soul to its temporal body.' What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Hermione replied, "that if your Dad and You-Know-Who get hold of it, and your father knows the right spells…"

"He does. They're all in the secret library under the living room rug."

"Then we'll be throwing a 'Welcome Back, Voldemort' party before you can say 'Moldy Voldy,'". Harry finished. The other three students winced at the word 'Voldemort.' Harry continued on again, "I think my uncle knows where the Dragon's Tear is. That's why he's been studying those documents so much, and I bet Dumbledore knows that Voldemort's up to something, too."

"So, what do we do?" Ron asked. He was munching on a cookie he'd nicked from the kitchens. Crumbs were everywhere on the table in front of him.

"We need to figure out where the bloody thing is hidden. Do you think we could ask my uncle?" Harry said.

"I don't think he'll tell us, Harry," Hermione replied.

"We'll figure something out. Draco, you don't remember anything else in those books of your father's that were needed for that spell, do you?"

The tow-headed boy shook his head. "I'll see what I can remember." Leaving that subject for the time being, the four students then applied themselves to less wide-ranging subjects, namely the transfiguration homework due the following morning.

There was a Hogsmeade visit scheduled the weekend before Halloween, and since Harry had never been to Hogsmeade legally, he was quite excited. Of course, he had pretty much already seen and done everything in Hogsmeade, so he wasn't sure what he would do once he was there, but that was really beside the point.

"Ron's taking me to the Tea Parlor," Hermione smiled broadly. She and Ron had finally admitted to Harry when he confronted them a couple of weeks prior that they were 'going out.' It was nothing serious – yet. Ron still got embarrassed every time the subject was brought up. Harry couldn't have been happier for the two of them. "Why don't you check out that old used book store and see if you can find anything interesting on certain topics of interest?"

Harry didn't like the idea of spending his free day in Hogsmeade with a bunch of musty parchment. Maybe he wouldn't go to Hogsmeade after all. Draco had other ideas, however. "My sister and I have to go to Madam Malkin's for some new robes. You're coming with us." His tone left no room for argument.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry asked huffily.

"Look, Harry, you've got plenty of money, so there's no sense in you wearing your cousin's four-sizes-too-big clothing. Ivy and I will help you pick out some nicer, er I mean, nicer-looking things."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Harry was genuinely confused. Sure his clothes were a little ragged, and a little baggy, but that made it easier for him to move around. It was comfortable.

"Well, nothing, really….alright, everything you own looks horrid, and I imagine that your taste in fashion is equally atrocious, so you're just going to have to trust us, OK?" Draco was whining. Harry couldn't figure out why Draco was so worried about Harry's clothes, but figured it came with being a rich, spoiled brat.

Harry was as unenthusiastic about robe-shopping as he was about book-shopping, but given that no other suitable alternative presented itself, Harry found himself walking down to Hogsmeade with Draco Malfoy. The weirdness of it all was not lost on him.

"We'll 'accidentally' run into my sister outside of Madam Malkins, and pretend to ignore each other, then meet up inside later, when the coast is clear of other students," Draco reminded Harry of the plan they had formulated. "There won't be many other Hogwarts people buying robes this early in the year anyway. I just didn't have the chance to buy anything before the term started."

Harry knew all this, but the repetition was welcome. Upon hearing the plan the first time, Harry had asked, "Do you think we should bring my invisibility cloak, in case someone sees the three of us together and we need to hide or something?"

"You have an Invisibility Cloak? Bloody hell!" Draco had been impressed.

"Yeah, it was my dad's. It comes in handy. I wonder if my uncle has one, too." Harry looked thoughtful. They agreed to take the cloak with them to Hogsmeade.

Harry was very nervous about being around Ivy – he always was. She always made him feel tongue-tied and a little weak in the knees, and he never knew how to act around her. He thought he did a good job of hiding it. Little did he know that Draco had seen Harry's change of behavior around his sister, and thus had arranged for her to join them in Hogsmeade, in spite of the risk of them blowing Ivy's cover, so to speak.

It all went according to plan. Harry and Draco, ignoring the glances from suspicious students who wondered what they were doing walking through Hogsmeade together, ran into Ivy just outside the shop. Their eyes met for just a moment, then Harry and Draco kept going, and Ivy did the same. Harry thought it was odd the way Draco flipped his hair back and scratched his cheek right as he looked at Ivy, but forgot all about it when the walked into the store a couple of minutes later.

Ivy, somehow, was already there, and as the three of them were the only ones in the store, she squealed with delight, "Drakey-poo!" and ran up and hugged her elder brother. Harry laughed out loud, and Draco, who had turned bright red, said through gritted teeth, "You'd better be careful, Potter. Remember who's in charge of your wardrobe." Harry shut up.

The next three hours were pure hell for Harry. He didn't know who was worse – Draco, or Ivy. The made him try on ten pairs of everything, but wouldn't let him choose what he liked. Only Draco or Ivy could actually approve purchases.

"Just think of yourself as a living mannequin, Harry. Well, that and a living bank. Sure am glad I'm not paying for all this stuff. (,)" Draco said encouragingly. Harry was tempted kick Draco in the crotch, just on general principles.

Ivy was equally bad, in a different way. She treated him like he was a baby, and every time he came out of the dressing room, she got very close to him to adjust the waistband of his pants, or she would tug on his shirt or cloak so that it would hang just so. Harry felt himself flushing and the room seemed to get very warm every time Ivy came within two feet of him. She was enjoying Harry's discomfort, and walked around with a mischievous smile on her face, while Draco watched approvingly.

In the end, Harry ended up buying five sets of slacks and shirts, plus three sweaters, three sets of everyday robes, two sets of dress robes, plus three pairs of shoes. He was about to settle the bill, hoping he wouldn't faint, when Draco called, "Not yet, Harry, we still have to buy you a formal outfit."

"I've already got dress robes," Harry said testily.

"Not dress robes, dolt, a formal outfit." Draco pointed to the mannequin in the window. It had on a pair of tight-legged slacks with a shirt and vest, all in the same color black. Instead of a jacket, like would have been found on a muggle suit, a long overcape hung off the shoulders, held in place by a golden chain and clasp across the lower neck.

Harry was fast losing his patience. "What in the bloody hell do I need with one of those?"

"Harry," Draco said sternly, with his arms crossed, "I told you not to argue. Think how great that will look at the Winter Ball." He winked at his sister, who giggled.

"Fine, let's get this over with."

Draco snapped his fingers, and an attendant came forward with an outfit like the one on the mannequin, but in a green so dark that unless you looked at it closely or in a good light, it looked black. Harry had to admit it was a rather impressive garment. "It will highlight your eyes, which everyone knows are the window to your soul.(,)" Draco said as if he were talking about the weather. Harry wondered why it was important for his robes to match his eyes, and how Draco knew that. He shook his head. 'Ignorance is bliss' he thought, and he took the garment to the dressing room.

Twenty minutes later, Harry still hadn't emerged. Ivy who was reading Witch Weekly just outside the dressing room, called in to him, "Are you OK in there, Harry?"

"Yes! Everything's fine," came the response in a very high voice.

Ivy giggled, "I think Harry needs a little bit of help, big brother."

Draco exhaled in exasperation and walked over to the dressing room. He had been admiring the walking sticks. "Potter! Don't tell me you don't know how to put the bloody thing on! Open the door!"

"Go away, Malfoy. Everything's fine."

"You'd better let me in, Harry. These things can be complicated the first time you put them on."

"No. I'll figure it out."

"Harry, we don't have all day."

"Leave it, Malfoy."

"What's the big deal?"

They heard a sigh from the other side of the door, and then Harry said in a small voice. "Let's just say you're not the only one who's shy, OK?" Then they heard the door unlock. Draco motioned to his sister (to) go stand in the main part of the shop, and he opened the door and slipped inside the dressing room, which was actually quite spacious.

"You mean to tell me you gave me a hard time about being modest, when you're even worse? Oh that's rich." Draco tried to be angry, but seeing Harry standing there in his boxer shorts, embarrassed, was too much.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. These things are a pain to put on, especially when you don't know how. But, I can't let you off completely. Those boxer shorts are atrocious and should be burned."

Harry looked down at his shorts which were maroon with gold Gryffindor lions on them.

Then he looked at Draco and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Really? Tell me, Malfoy, how is it that those are any worse than your boxer shorts, which if I recall correctly are green with silver Slytherin snakes on them?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Potter." Draco crossed his arms defiantly.

Harry did the same, then suddenly he grabbed Draco's trousers and gave them a hard tug. Draco tended to wear his pants loose at the waist, a fact that Harry remembered, and Draco found himself with his pants around his ankles.

"That is what I'm talking about, Draco Malfoy," Harry said triumphantly. Draco looked down at his own Slytherin boxers, and then at Harry. Their eyes met, and both Harry and Draco burst out laughing uncontrollably.

"What is going on in there?" Ivy called from outside, which caused Harry and Draco to burst into laughter all over again. It was some time before Draco and Harry settled down enough for Draco to pull up his pants and help Harry into his outfit, which was very handsome, and equally uncomfortable. They then got Harry changed back into more normal clothing, and Harry went to settle the bill.

"That will be two hundred and four galleons," the witch at the register said.

"What! I haven't got that much on me." Harry was shocked at how much this was costing him. He vowed never to let Draco, or Ivy, take him clothes shopping again.

"No problem," replied the witch. "Just sign this slip, and we'll draft directly from your Gringott's account." Harry looked over at Draco who nodded.

"I do it all the time. Don't worry about it." Harry shrugged, and signed the slip of paper. They had arranged for his clothing to be delivered to the school, so Harry, Draco, and Ivy made plans to exit the store separately. Ivy had some surprising news for the two boys.

"I had an owl from father this morning. He wants to meet me here in just a few minutes to talk about something. He didn't say what," she explained in a low voice.

"What?" Draco was in shock, and started looking around frantically as if Lucius were about to materialize out of thin air.

"Yeah, I know, and he asked if you would be here as well. I think he's looking for you. So you and Harry be careful. Oh, I'm late!" Ivy gave her brother a hug; he was almost too shocked to return the gesture. Then, Ivy hugged Harry as well, much to the dark-haired boy's surprise. He felt himself get embarrassed yet again. Ivy turned and winked at him as she exited the store.

"Harry. Harry!" Draco snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face, smirking.

"What? Oh, right." He started to walk out of the store as well, but Draco grabbed him by the arm.

"Maybe we should get under the cloak until the coast is clear," Draco said.

"Good idea." Harry checked to make sure no one was watching, then threw the cloak, which was under his arm, over them. They shuffled toward the door. It was rather hard going, as even though both boys were the same height, they were almost too tall for the cloak to cover their feet if they stood completely upright.

Harry was in front, so he angled toward the Shrieking Shack, figuring that area of Hogsmeade would be more or less deserted. Draco kept stepping on the backs of his feet or breathing down his neck, which was patently annoying.

They arrived at the Shrieking Shack ten uncomfortable minutes later, and sat down under a tree across from the entrance, but slightly out of the main path, and removed the cloak. It was warm for October, and the boys, who were in sweaters, were perspiring. They sat there for some minutes, enjoying the autumn air, and then Harry spoke up, "You know Draco, it's rather weird. This is the spot where I doused you with mud last year. It seems like we should trying to hex each other or something."

Draco nodded, but looked pensive, "Er, Harry…we're friends right?"

Harry was taken aback. He had never considered the question. "Of course we are, Draco. What a silly thing to ask." It was the wrong thing to say, for now Draco looked hurt.

"Silly for you, maybe, but not for someone who's just realized they've never really had any friends."

"You can't be serious, Draco. You have lots of friends. Not just me. Ron, and Hermione, and Professor Dumbledore, and my uncle. They're all your friends, too."

"That's what your uncle told me the other day."

"There you go, then."

"Well, it's just, this is all really new and different for me, and I feel like I'm alone, you know. I lie in bed at night and cry myself to sleep sometimes. I'm nearly fourteen years old, for Merlin's sake. I shouldn't be doing that."

Harry knew just what Draco was talking about, as he had discovered Draco crying when they were at the Weasley's that summer.

"I know you do, Draco," Harry said gently.

"You do?"

Harry nodded, "I guess you don't realize that I've never slept well as a rule. It has something to do with Voldemort and the whole scar thing." Harry waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his forehead. "I used to lay awake nights when we were at the Weasleys and listen to you cry. I wondered why you were crying – what could make someone hurt so badly, yet be unable to express it to someone who wanted to help? I just figured you'd talk about it when you were ready." Harry turned to face his friend, and placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. "You're a good friend, Draco. You've been a good friend to me, and to everyone else. I know that your life is very different than it used to be, but I think you've done amazingly well at adapting, and I'm glad you're my friend now, rather than my enemy."

Draco was amazed at the wisdom and sincerity in Harry's words. He looked at the boy he had wanted to call 'friend' for so long in the eyes – the windows of the soul – and saw that Harry spoke the truth. Draco had never felt happier, or more like he belonged somewhere in his life, and this made him happy. He smiled at his friend. Draco thought, 'He really is my friend', and saw the smile returned, real and genuine, and he felt – happy, truly happy. It was an emotion long-forsaken, and much-welcomed for Draco Malfoy.

"Er…can I ask you something else, Harry?"

Harry smiled, "You just did, you silly prat."

Draco stuck his tongue out at Harry but continued, "How is it…well, what I mean is…er, I don't really know how to say this…"

"Maybe you should just say it." Harry smirked again.

"Grrrr, fine, Potter," Draco replied in mock ire, then got serious again. "How is it that you're able to get on with your life when You-Know-Who and all these other people are trying to kill you? My Dad's after me, and I'm a basket case."

To Draco's surprise, Harry shrugged. "I don't know, Draco. I don't really think about it. I guess, well, I've always figured that I'll die when I'm supposed to, not before and not after. If I'm an old man of ninety who can't feed himself without help, great. If Voldemort nails me next week, well, I won't like it and I'll do everything I can to stop it, but I'm not going to lose sleep over it. If I do that, then I won't ever really get to live, because I'm so afraid of dying."

Draco really couldn't understand how someone so non-chalant and….normal…could be so profound, and was about to say so when Ivy came running up.

"Ivy, what's wrong!" Draco said, grabbing his sister in a hug. She was crying. "It's father," she said between sobs. "He's planning to attack Hogwarts, kidnap you and Harry, and take you both to meet up somewhere with Voldemort. He wanted me to help him plan the attack – to be the 'inside man' he called it.'

Draco and Harry exchanged a glance. Harry picked up the invisibility cloak, and got ready to leave. "What did you tell him, Ivy?" Draco asked gently, still holding his sister.

"I…I…told him I would." She cried again, face buried in her brother's shoulder.

"Good girl. Everything will be OK. Let's get back to the castle, and go talk to the Headmaster. It'll be alright, Ivy. I promise."

Harry threw the cloak over the three of them, which made for even more crowded walking, but instead of heading up to the castle, he headed for the Shrieking Shack.

"Where are we going Harry?" Draco asked tensely.

"There's a secret passage from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow. It'll be easier and safer to go back that way." And so they proceeded, silently, Ivy's crying reduced to intermittent sniffles. Each was engrossed in thoughts of what the upcoming attack would mean, and how Dumbledore would react. Draco, in the part of himself that was detached from the present, still felt his heart bursting with the joy that he had found a true friend to stand with him in what he knew was the approaching storm.