AN: Next couple of chapters will be shortish! Reviews highly, highly appreciated! If I'm awesome, please tell me; if I'm spiralling downward into My Immortal territory, tell me that too. Gratitude and devotion to OrabelleBlanche and Lupinesence for what non-profit businesses would call their "continued support"!

Harry staggered slightly as he made his way to the back. He had just been presented with eight books—no—more like tomes—and he'd never gone in much for weight-lifting.

"Help," he squeaked to Ron, who obligingly relieved him of half of them.

"Well, there's one thing. Free books. We can share this year, you know," he said. "Hermione, too, if she likes. And you, too, Ginny," he added, spotting her standing next to her mother. "If you don't mind your books smelling like boy."

She looked up at him and her eyes shone like twin stars.

There's that smile…

"Ooh, Snapey's got a girlfriend," said Draco Malfoy's voice, and he slouched lazily out of the crowd and smirked at Harry.

"Oi, watch it, Malfoy," said Ron, dropping his books in Ginny's cauldron.

"All right, Malfoy?" said Harry, setting his in as well. Ginny jerked forward a little but bore up valiantly. "Anyway, that's a bit rich, coming from you. I was pretty sure Pansy Parkinson was going to eat you up once or twice all last term."

Hermione turned away to hide a giggle, and Draco turned faintly pink. "Can you imagine that utter prat trying to teach us Defence against the Dark Arts?" he said, changing the subject. "Well, at least we know that if there's not a photography team there to watch him he'll shrivel up and die. Then we can get someone who knows what he's doing."

"I think he'll survive without the photographers," said Harry, "but the dearth of middle-aged women to coo over him might just finish him off."

"Ron! Harry!" Mr Weasley struggled through the crowd with Fred and George, each carrying stacks of books and parcels. "Let's get out of here, it's much too crowded…"

"Well, well, well—Arthur Weasley."

Lucius Malfoy had appeared, and stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder. His face twisted into a smile—a different sort than the one he had given Harry, and even more unpleasant. It made Harry think of a shark, or a really particularly evil cat. I didn't like Draco at first either, he tried to remind himself.

Mr Weasley nodded coldly over the top of his stack of books.

"Lucius," he said.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr Malfoy. "All those raids…I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted a very old, battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. "Obviously not," he said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"We have very different ideas about what disgraces the name of wizard," said Mr Weasley through clenched teeth.

"Clearly," said Mr Malfoy. With a pale eye he examined Mr and Mrs Granger. "The company you keep, Arthur…and I thought your family could sink no lower…"

Mr Weasley exploded.

Harry had never seen a real fistfight before. Oh, there had been scuffles in the schoolyard—he'd been on the receiving end of a lot of these—but they couldn't be called fights, more like beatings up. Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy, on the other hand, were fairly evenly matched. Mr Weasley had the advantage of height and probably experience (the Malfoys, Harry thought, would be more likely to sue you than hit you in the face), but Mr Malfoy was significantly broader in the shoulders and had a cane with a snakehead on it. It was actually quite exciting, and Harry was hard-pressed not to join Fred and George in cheering them on. By the time Mr Hagrid, of all people, came storming in lifted each man into the air by the neck until they stopped wiggling, each had sustained injuries and there was no clear winner.

"Oh, bollocks," whispered Fred. "Dad would've trounced him, no contest!"

Mr Weasley turned away and wiped the blood from his split lip. Mr Malfoy, who had a handsome bruise purpling around his eye, sneered at Hagrid, Mr Weasley, and everyone else in the shop, and thrust the battered old Transfiguration book back into Ginny's hands.

"Here—take it, girl—it's the best your father can give you…" He wrenched himself from Hagrid's grip and dusted off his robes with great dignity. His eye caught Harry's.

"We will look forward to seeing you on the thirty-first, Harry," he said in quite a different voice, inclining his head slightly. Then he beckoned to Draco, and swept from the shop. Draco gave Ron one condescending look, nodded to Harry, and followed his father, though with not quite the same impressive results, because the hem of his robe knocked over a life-sized portrait of Gilderoy Lockhart, which he then had to right.

"What did he mean, the thirty-first?" Mrs Weasley asked, when they had all gotten outside and she was dabbing at Mr Weasley's lip with her handkerchief. "Spit, Arthur…"

"Oh, that. I forgot to ask…The Malfoys invited me round for dinner," said Harry, aware that this was not ideal timing. "They offered to, er, 'convey' me to King's Cross the next morning if I wanted. I thought if…"

"Absolutely not!" exclaimed Arthur. "No child of mine…that is, I mean to say, no child under my care…I mean, you…you can't seriously be considering going anywhere near those…those…"

"Mr Weasley, he's my friend," said Harry.

"You just met the man!"

"Not Mr Malfoy. Draco. He helped us get the Stone…he kept a really big secret for Hagrid…he's not all bad. And I'd like to see him. Please?"

Molly and Arthur exchanged looks.

"Well, you know," said Arthur carefully, "we are not, strictly speaking, your guardians…"

"Oh, my guardians don't care," said Harry. "One wizard is as bad as another to them. Please?"

"I just mean, you know, we can't really tell you what to do. But Harry…Harry…you see what kind of a person he is. It may not be…prudent…"

"It's just one night," said Harry. "It's not like I'm moving in with them. And I'll meet you all at King's Cross the next morning and you can check me over for poison burns or hexes or anything. I already said I'd go," said Harry. "I accepted. And Mr Malfoy said they're really looking forward to it. I can't just back out!" Harry had never had to whine for something he wanted before. If he'd tried it with the Dursleys Uncle Vernon probably would have walloped him.

"Harry, we're not telling you that you can't go," said Molly, folding up her handkerchief and putting it away. "But—"

"Oh, let him go, Mum," said Ron unexpectedly. "It's no big deal, is it? It's not like they're going to invite away a guest from under a Ministry official's nose just to poison him or something, is it? I mean, come on. Even Malfoy's not that stupid."

Mr and Mrs Weasley looked helplessly at each other.

"That is true, Arthur," said Mrs Weasley. "And we would know where he was and he would be able to contact us in case anything did happen…"

"But, my dear, the Malfoys…"

"It's all right," whispered Ron. "If Mum's turning, she'll get dad in no time. You're welcome, by the way."

Harry grinned up at his friend.