Disclaimer: I'm getting tired of writing these things, I think it is rather obvious that I don't own Harry Potter, and that all rights to him belongs to Rowling.

A/N: I messed up with the teaser for this chapter. The reason why Harry bought all those books will be revealed in two chapters time, not now. My apologies please don't flame me.

Summary:
Draco finds his mate and a tentative relationship is beginning to build
Shopping with two Malfoys
Dumbledore butt heads with Salazar Slytherin

This will in time be a slash-story. Don't like it? Don't read it.

A big thank you to Keikokin for being my beta-reader.

Books, books and more books

Day three - Wednesday

Harry woke early the next morning and indulged himself in an old-fashioned lay-in. When he could remain in bed no longer, he reluctantly threw the covers aside, and climbed out of the bed. A quick shower ensured he became fully awake and he walked back into the bedroom, rubbing a towel over his hair. Maybe he should drop the glamour that hid its new length? It could always be explained away with a spell or potion. Putting the notion aside for later, he ambled over to the large wardrobe filling most of one of the walls.

Stopping in front of it, Harry pulled the doors open and took out a fresh set of underwear. It had been bloody embarrassing looking over the Seven Sin's selection of underwear, trying to find something that wasn't made of leather and wasn't shaped as a thong. Draco had drooled over some of the items and had tried to talk Harry into buying them; causing Harry to turn several shades of red by the time they were finished. Fortunately, Lucius had been there and had put a stop to his son's shenanigans, keeping a businesslike attitude the entire time.

Slipping the underwear over his hips, Harry considered his vast collection of shirts. Lucius really had gone overboard there and he reminded himself to talk to the blond and make sure he paid back the money Mr. Malfoy had spent on him.

Hesitating briefly, Harry pulled out the leather trousers done in blood red and pulled them on. They were a bit stiff, but fit nicely just as the pair he'd tried out in Sean's fitting room. Adding a deep black silk shirt and the vest made in the same colour as the trousers, Harry looked himself over in the full length mirror. Not bad, not bad at all. Settling on the bed, he pulled on his boots, opting to tuck the trousers inside the bootlegs. Standing up he frowned when he caught sight of his reflection. The black boots didn't fit at all. He wasn't sure what was wrong with them, but they somehow ruined the ensemble. Shrugging, he turned them the same colour as the trousers, much better. Nodding in satisfaction, Harry left the bedroom to find some breakfast.

He found Draco sitting at the table, sketching once more. Harry raised an eyebrow. It clearly was more than a way to pass time. You didn't work so diligently at something unless you had a real interest. I wonder if he'll show me what he's sketching if I asked?

Not feeling secure enough with their tentative friendship to be nosy, Harry decided to ask some other time, setting for a soft, "Good morning Draco."

Draco looked up startled; he hadn't heard the other enter the room. Then his eyes widened and he grinned. "Looking good there Harry. Those clothes suit you," he said getting up from his chair to slowly, almost predatorily, walk around his mate to fully take in how he looked.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably and in an attempt to turn the attention away from himself said, "You're not so bad looking yourself." And indeed the Veela looked very handsome dressed in black leather and a pale green shirt. Silk of course.

"Why thank you kind sir," Draco replied with a small bow. He straightened and was about to say something more when there was a pecking sound on the window. Opening it an owl flew inside settling on Harry's shoulder, holding out its leg and the scroll tied to it.

"Thank you." Harry said untying the letter and opened it.

Dear Sweetie,

In the bag you will find the transporter for the crate with your books.
Having done a quick inventory, the rest of my stock amounts to 483 Galleons and 11 Sickles, if you are still interested in them that is.

While I was packing, I remembered that my great-grandfather gathered several trunks worth of books and stuff that he for some reason never bothered to include into the shops inventory. If you are interested, you may buy them, unseen, for 15 Galleons apiece. I do not know precisely what they contain, but I do know that my great-grandfather had a nose for finding valuable and unusual things. Please let me know if you are interested.

Sincerely,
Abigail Sweetwater

Harry tilted his head to the side as he thought. Was he interested? 15 Galleons apiece wasn't much money, unless there were hundreds of trunks, but he had a feeling that wasn't the case.

Walking carefully to the table, not wanting to disturb the owl, Harry settled down to write his reply, offering the owl some water and one of Hedwig's treats. The owl hooted its thanks and drank deeply of the water.

Opening the pouch, Harry found a stone disk that he carefully placed on the table. Calling his moneybag to him, he counted out the required sum and placed it in the pouch, adding a feather light charm to be on the safe side. Picking up a quill he thoughtfully stroked the tip against his chin as he tried to formulate what he wanted to say.

Dear sweet lady,

I thank you for your swift service and I hope you did not spend the entire night slaving away to fulfil my request.

Harry sniggered to himself, but Abigail had set the tone in her letter and besides, he liked her.

I have included the amount you asked for and are eagerly awaiting your next shipment.

Yes, I am interested in your great-grandfather's trunks and will gladly buy them unseen if you were to tell me how many of them there are.

Sincerely,
Harry Potter

Once the letter and pouch had been secured to its legs the owl promptly took off, flying out the still open window.

"Who was that?" Draco asked trying to sound casual and disinterested, but inside he was burning up with curiosity mixed with some jealousy. Was it a rival for his mate's affection?

"Nothing important," Harry replied not noticing the storm brewing in silver eyes. His focus was on the strange stone disk. "Hey Draco, what's this?"

Draco plucked the disk out of Harry's fingers and examined it. "It's a transporter," he answered giving it back to the other boy.

"How does it work?"

"Were you given a password?"

"Umm, no?" Harry said after scanning the letter quickly.

"Then all you need to do is tap it twice with your wand. Make sure your not holding it when you do so and that you are doing it someplace with enough space."

"But what does it do?"

"I'm guessing you bought something yesterday," Draco said trying to fish for information.

Harry merely nodded.

"Whatever you bought must have been too large or too heavy for the owl to carry, so the shop sent you a transporter disk. They work like a portkey, but instead of taking you to them; it is taking what you bought from there to here."

Harry nodded. It made sense. Fingering the disk he headed to his room, but half-way there he paused and glanced back at Draco. On one hand, he didn't want to clutter up the living room, and if the books only cost a Sickle the amount of books he'd gotten must be huge. However, if he placed the crate or whatever in his room that meant that he'd spend a lot of time in a room Draco could not enter and that wasn't exactly fair to the Veela. Hesitating a bit more he walked to the wall next to his door. Moving the small table standing there aside, he placed the disk on the floor and tapped it twice with his wand as Draco had dictated. There was a flash of light and a large trunk appeared where the disk had been.

Staring at the large steamer trunk Harry blinked stupidly. Stepping up to it, he flipped the lid open and chuckled. It was filled with minimized books, each book barely the size of his palm.

"Books? You've bought more books? What are you? A Ravenclaw in disguise?" Draco demanded coming to a halt beside Harry.

"No. Just following advice from one of your ancestors," Harry sniggered dropping to his knees pulling out a few books, examining them, noting absentmindedly that they regained their original size the moment they left the trunk.

Draco snorted but knelt beside his mate and began to examine the books as well. After all, he was curious what kind of books Harry had gotten and he couldn't help wonder where he'd gotten them from.

HPDM

Silence reigned for the next half hour as Draco sat reading a diary written by a French wizard named Claude de Merle, whom he suspected was a distant relative of his. He'd have to ask his father to be absolutely sure.

Harry on the other hand was still picking up books only giving each a cursory glance, sorting them loosely after language. Picking up a worn leather journal, he opened it and gave it a curious glance. His eyes widened slightly when he saw it was written in runes and he haltingly translated what was written on the first page, the ink faded with time.

"Hey, Draco, does this say what I think it says?" he asked nudging the blond with a sharp elbow. He'd learned some runes during the summer, but he was no way near fluent.

Annoyed, Draco accepted the journal and read the inscription. He gasped and the book fell from nerveless fingers.

"You ok?" Harry asked in concern picking the book back up.

"Give me that!" Draco almost shouted and grabbed the book from Harry, reading the first page once more, this time out loud. "This is the private work journal of Killian Longbottom. Harry do you know what this is?"

"A journal written by one of Neville's ancestors?" Harry ventured a guess.

Draco snorted. "No, you moron! This is the legendary journal of Killian Longbottom! I can't believe it!"

"Why? What's so special about him?"

"Don't you know? Don't you realise what a find this is?" Draco was getting more and more agitated.

"Take a deep breath Draco. That's it, just breathe," Harry soothed not understanding why someone could get so worked up about an old book.

"Killian Longbottom lived about eight hundred years ago. He was a Potion Master, most considered him a genius. During his time, he created loads and loads of new potions or improved those that already existed. Many of the potions we use today have its beginning in Longbottom's lab.

"When he died lots of people wanted to get their hands on his work journal, but no one could find it. Not even his heir. It is said that Longbottom left a letter with clues as to where his journal was hidden, but no one has been able to solve it and some even think that the letter is a forgery. For this book to turn up like this, it's... it's like as if Merlin himself had suddenly appeared in the room." Draco tried to explain.

"Oh," Harry said softly taking the book back and carefully flipped through it. "Do you think Severus would like a copy?"

"Like?" Draco spluttered. "Harry he'd willingly give you his first born child just for the chance of looking through it!"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "He can keep it," he stated getting to his feet. "Be right back," he said over his shoulder and disappeared into his room.

True to his word he re-entered the sitting room only moments later, his arms filled with parchment, the book, and a box of Bertie Botts.

"Would you mind sorting these?" he asked holding out the box to Draco who grumbled, but complied.

"Why don't you do this the way everyone else does? By tasting them?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Because, I've never developed a taste for them, normally I'd just use whatever bean I'd grab, but I figured you'd want the nice tasting ones. If you're not interested you don't have to, I'm sorry," Harry apologised pulling his wand to put them all back in the box.

"Don't you dare!" Draco growled. "I was curious, that's all. Unlike you, I want them. I like them," he explained popping a yellow one into his mouth. "Mmm, vanilla custard."

"I don't understand how you can know by just looking at them," Harry said shaking his head.

"I can't. I have to touch them as well. I've always been able to tell, ever since I was little," Draco replied working diligently. It didn't take long before there were two neat piles, one which went back into the box. Draco indicated for Harry that the other pile was his to do with as he pleased.

Nodding with a small smile in thanks, Harry transfigured one of the beans into a bowl and placed the rest of them in it. Placing the journal on the table, he placed a stack of parchment next to it, making sure the two touched. Lastly, he placed a hand full of beans on top of the stack of parchment.

Settling comfortably in a chair Harry put one hand on the journal, and one atop the small pile of beans and began to chant a spell.

Draco started at the hissing coming from his mate, but then he realised he was talking in Parseltongue. A soft bluish glow surrounded each of Harry's hands. The light grew and then it vanished and on the table were two identical journals, except one looked brand new and the other looked decidedly shabby next to it.

Seeing Draco's look, Harry picked up the new copy and handed it to him. Draco accepted it looking as if he'd been given Merlin's legendary staff, caressing the leather lovingly.

Harry watched him in amusement for a few moments, but then he turned his attention back to what he was doing and prepared to make another copy. If the journal was that important, he didn't want the original to leave these rooms. But he didn't want there to be a fight between Draco and Severus either about whose turn it was to read it. Better to create each man a copy while he was at it and thus preserve the peace in the family.

Once the second copy was done, Harry slumped back into his chair, feeling tired and drained. Draco looked up sharply from his reading and snapped his fingers ordering breakfast for the two of them.

"How in Merlin's name did you manage to copy the Black library if creating two copies tired you out this much?" he demanded fussing over Harry. "And how did you come up with the idea to use Bertie Botts Every-Flavour Beans to transfigure the cover? Won't it deteriorate with time?"

"When I copied the Black library I was using another spell, and I was using my anger. If it hadn't been for all that work, I'd flattened the place I was staying at several times over," Harry replied with an amused smile. "As for the beans; I don't think the cover will deteriorate with time. I guess I could create the copy out of thin air but that takes much more power and magic. After all, it is easier to create something out of something else," he teased using one of McGonagall's favourite sayings.

"Ugh, don't remind me! But why the beans?" Draco persisted.

Harry shrugged staring down at the table. "With Dumbledore and the Order of Phoenix keeping close watch on me I had difficulty getting what I needed. I couldn't buy parchment beside what I'd need for the school year, and I couldn't get empty journals for the same reason. They would all get suspicious and ask me what I want it for. However, a teenaged boy is supposed to be a bottomless pit and no one minded buying sweets for me. So I used what I could and the magic did the rest."

Draco silently fumed. How dare they treat his mate in such a fashion! "I understand, I think, but Harry, there is no more need for you to make do. If you want something or if you need something, tell father or me, and we will be happy to get it for you if it is within our power. And as Malfoys there isn't much we can't get," Draco stated arrogantly making Harry laugh.

"There, that's better. Now eat while the food is hot," Draco ordered settling at the table as well, picking up the fork with his right hand and the journal with his left, forgetting everything as he sank into the ancient world of potions.

Harry didn't take offence. He merely shook his head while laughing softly. Soon the delicious smells of the food caused him to forget everything else and he dug in, eating heartily.

HPDM

With a soft sigh, Harry put down his cutlery and picked up his tea cup. Taking a drink from it, he looked over at Draco for the first time since he began eating. Snorting a laugh he watched as the blond sat there utterly oblivious to the world, his eyes glued to a page in the journal. His right elbow was planted on the table and a fork filled with scrambled eggs was held half way to the mouth, forgotten; the eggs now cold and unappetising.

"Hey, Draco! Are you finished?" Harry called reaching over and gently nudging the hand holding the fork. By the looks of it, the blond had only had three bites of his breakfast, if that. The fork and its content fell to the table with a clutter as Draco started and looked up at him with glazed eyes, his mind still on potions.

"Did you say something?" he muttered, eyes already going back to the journal.

Harry laughed. "Hey, air head, I thought you were hungry?"

"Hungry?" Draco asked still not fully conscious of his surroundings.

"Accio Longbottom's Journal," Harry said, elegantly catching the book as it came sailing towards him.

Draco blinked, then frowned. "Hey! I was reading that you know!" he complained.

"I know. But I thought you were hungry? Remember breakfast?" Harry teased not repenting in the least.

"Breakfast?" Draco repeated looking down. "Oh," he blushed as he realised what had happened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you like that."

"Hey, I don't mind." Harry said soothingly putting the book down by Draco's side. "I just wanted to make sure you ate something."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Harry smiled gently sending the remains of his own breakfast back to the kitchen. "How about some tea and croissants? That must be rather cold and unappealing by now."

Draco looked down at his tray, poking his eggs and bacon with the fork. Putting it down with a look of distaste he nodded and Harry called for a House elf.

Having made sure that Draco ate enough to sustain him to lunch, Harry settled to work on Snape's last potion essay. Looking over the assignment 'Discuss the different stages when brewing Veritaserum', he couldn't help but feel there was a trap somewhere in there. Not sure what it was he nibbled on his quill and wrote:

When brewing Veritaserum you have to be diligent and mindful of every detail of the different stages of the potion. If you are not diligent you will end up with an acid that will corrode human flesh, or a truth potion that is about as useful as dishwater.

There that sounded good he thought.It will show that I know some of the dangers of brewing the thing incorrectly and that you need to have a mature attitude if you are to make this stuff.

He had read up on the potion last night after he had retired to bed and he felt fairly competent that he now understood the different stages. He was about to list the ingredients, but paused and read the assignment once more.

Nope, he isn't asking how to make Veritaserum, he wants us to discuss the different stages. I'm gonna take a risk and skip the list of ingredients Harry thought, picking up the quill again.

You begin the process with filling the cauldron with three parts pure water and one part unicorn tears. It is important to get the mix exactly right. If there is too much water, the tears will be weakened and the finished potion will not force the drinker to speak the truth. Add too little water and the tears will react violently with the griffin feathers, which are added at a later stage, risking the potion to blow up in the brewer's face.

Harry paused and read through what he had written. Nodding in satisfaction, he checked his potion book to make sure he remembered the next step correctly.

HPDM

It was with a pleased smile that Harry signed his name with flourish, happy to have finished the thing. Reading it through once more he cast the spell to check on his spelling. Satisfied, he created a copy of the essay adding a copyright spell one of the Black ancestors had suggested to him. Better to be safe than sorry after all. He only hoped Professor Snape wouldn't blow a fuse when he realised the essay was almost 2 feet too long. He wasn't about to edit it though and risk missing some vital part of the process.

Looking over at Draco Harry couldn't help but laugh, the blond was still deep within the journal, absolutely dead to the world. Deciding to forgo his usual second opinion Harry went to get the other essay wanting to hand them over to Severus now, along with Longbottom's journal.

"Hey Draco, I'm going to head down to the dungeon to see Professor Snape. Then I'll head outside for a bit to get some fresh air. Wanna come?"

"Mm-hmm," the Veela murmured and Harry was positive the other hadn't heard a word of what he'd said. Grinning he wrote a note, placing it beside Draco and left.

Harry was almost at the potions classroom when a panting Draco landed at this side.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" he demanded looking affronted when Harry burst out laughing.

"I did. I wasn't sure you heard me though. Have a nice read?"

Draco blushed, ducking his head, and nodded. "Yeah, that Killian was some Master. I wish I could have met him, too bad our current Longbottom is worthless at potions."

"Do you think that's why Professor Snape is so horrid towards him?"

"Maybe, or it could be because of all the exploded cauldrons he's caused during his past five years," Draco shrugged, not really interested in why his godfather and the bumbling Gryffindor didn't get along.

Harry was about to knock on the classroom door when the bell rang and he quickly jumped to the side so as not to be trampled by the students rushing for the door wanting to get out as quickly as possible.

He was wise to do so as the door was thrown open and a score of third year Hufflepuffs ran for freedom. The Ravenclaws were not as rushed to leave as Snape had a little bit more tolerance towards them, but no one wanted to linger.

Harry and Draco made their way inside and walked towards the teacher standing behind his desk, clearing the blackboard.

"Sir?" Harry said placing the two scrolls on the desk.

"Harry, Draco, I wasn't expecting to see either of you anytime soon," Severus drawled putting his wand away.

"I had finished the summer assignments and wanted to hand them over to you as soon as possible," Harry explained. "And I wanted to give you a copy of a journal I bought yesterday. Draco thinks you'd enjoy a copy of your own," Harry grinned impishly pulling the book from his pocket.

Severus gave them both a suspicious look, but accepted the book and opened it. Promptly all colour left his face and he sank into his chair. Leafing through the book quickly he focused on the two boys standing before his desk.

"Do you know what I am holding in my hands?" he croaked out, too shocked to speak.

"Yeah, an old potion book," Harry teased. "It has to be good 'cause Draco's been buried in it ever since breakfast."

"An old potion book... To call this journal such a thing is blasphemy of the highest degree Potter!" Severus growled, but there was no heat behind his words. "I can not accept such a gift Harry. If you were to sell it you could name your prize and have it met,"

Harry shrugged, not impressed. "I'm not interested in money," he said simply. "I have enough for what I need. I'm not Potion Master material and we both know it. You and Draco are though, so who better to have that book?" Holding up a hand to stop whatever Severus was about to say Harry continued: "If you can't accept it as a gift, then consider it a thank you for saving my life – numerous times. I owe you a life dept or two if I understand wizard laws and customs right, maybe that book can be considered a down payment for what I owe you?"

Ducking his head in embarrassment Harry began to back away. "I'll just leave you now to prepare for your next classes. Bye sir," and with that he ran out of the room leaving two shocked people behind.

"I better go after him and make sure nothing happens to him," Draco murmured looking worriedly after his mate. "Enjoy the book Sev, I'm really looking forward to discussing a few of the things written in it with you. See you tonight?" he asked over his shoulder not really waiting for a reply.

Severus stared at the now empty spots where the two boys had been recently standing. Slowly his gaze returned to the book in his hands. Caressing the leather he felt how stiff it was, indicating the newness of the book. But the content proved its age. The pages were yellowed and stained in several places; the ink was faded and smudged. When Potter had created this copy he had copied the original down to the last imperfection of the original paper. To be given such a treasure... Severus shook his head, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't understand it. No one had ever given him gifts just to please him, no one... but Lucius Malfoy. Hugging the journal to his chest Severus felt tears well up in his eyes; that stupid, wonderful, reckless boy. It was a miracle he'd survived for as long as he had. It was fortunate he now had the Malfoys on his side; such a soft heart would soon be snuffed out in the harsh realities of war.

Hearing the sounds of footsteps approaching Severus gathered himself, and quickly put a protective charm on the journal, putting it into a pocket. The scrolls he locked into a drawer for later. Oh how he wished he could skip the rest of the classes for that day and sink into his favourite chair with his new book. Unfortunately, duty called and he glared as his fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors entered the room.

He waited for the bell to ring and then smiled at his class, causing them to shudder in fear. Opening the bottom drawer, he pulled out a stack of papers and placed them on his desk. Then he uttered the words that put fear in every student that heard them. "Class, today we are going to have a pop-quiz."

(Le Merle is Blackbird in French. I figured that to be a good name for a relative to the Malfoys, grin.)

Next time:
The boys mixes rocks and transfiguration and have some fun.
Stay tuned.