An owl swooped in low, dropping a letter on his plate. Draco flipped the envelope over, already expecting his mothers' neat scrawl on the front. He wasn't disappointed.

He pried it open, pulling out the lengthy folds of parchment inside.

His smile slowly fell from his face, her eyebrows furrowing as a frown began tugging his lips downward, dread sinking into his stomach.

Narcissa was trying her best to stay cheerful, ecstatic and proud he was furthering his education this summer. She went on and on about how excited she was to hear of his new projects, how well rounded he was going to be by graduation, and how further ahead his abilities would lay. It was as the letter progress where his mother began to delicately allude to trouble at home.

She was worried about his father, who had begun leaving for long periods of time, not coming home at night, and who appeared exhausted and agitated almost constantly.

"I had hoped your father had been finally slowing down, the poor exhausted man, but it appears he has found new opportunities to work on. You know he is—bless him."

He could read between the lines. His mother was skilled in subtly warning his about his father's moods and latest obsessions. Narcissa had hoped in vain Lucius would separate himself from any former affiliations with the Dark Lord…but clearly, he was diving right back in.

"We both know how much he hates to be away from home, I hope things will begin to settle back into our normal routine so he can finally have some rest."

He chuckled darkly at his mother's sarcasm. The man was never home, and if he was, he was tucked away in his study doing who knew what. When he was younger, Draco would only see his father at mealtimes, usually only dinnertime, and would occasionally be dragged into the study where his father would grill him on his lessons.

Up until this very year, Draco had tried in vain to keep his father's attention and to make him acknowledge his pride in something, anything, Draco was doing. It was this very year where Draco had realized his father likely had several mistresses on the side, and very little care about Draco or his mother once he had fulfilled his familial obligation of producing the next Malfoy heir.

Long were the days when Draco was threatening to tell his father on someone, Draco had quickly learned the man didn't care for school yard squabbles or favoritism in classes. If Draco performed well at school and lived up to his proper upbringing, staying out of the way, well, that was as good as it would get.

"I know you are working very hard, we both are so proud of you like I've said a thousand times, but I do hope you are able to find free time to enjoy yourself. You father has mentioned including you in his business dealings, but I have tried my best to remind him you still need time to be a young man and enjoy your summers off school while you still can."

So, there is was. Lucius was hinting he wanted Draco to join forces with him and follow He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. If Draco had gotten this letter a year ago, he would have seriously considered joining, if only to make his father proud. Now, now he knew better.

He didn't want to admit aloud that the fact he was sharing a roof with Jamie…er, Potter, wasn't playing into his decision making. He didn't know if he particularly liked the girl, however, he also didn't want to see her killed.

Narcissa was warning him to keep his distance, and so it was distance he would keep. He worried briefly about his mother, alone in a giant house waiting around for Lucius to acknowledge her, worried he would pull Draco into his downward spiral.

"I love you so much I can barely breathe for thinking of it. I hope you are having a great summer; I miss you so. Love, mum."

The last line got to him and he choked down a dry sob that had climbed up in his throat. He would write back to her later, promising her he was enjoying himself while also missing her immensely. Hopefully that would be enough.

For a moment, he fantasized about Narcissa and he spending a summer here in the cottage, spending time together and free to be themselves without fear of Lucius becoming angry. Maybe next summer he could sneak his mother away.

"If you frown any more at that letter, you'll burn a hole through the paper," Jamie commented to Draco. They were sat around the kitchen table, Severus drifting off to set up downstairs. It was the weekend, and Draco had the day off of brewing.

She had watched him glower at his letter for several long minutes, fretting internally, scowling and making sounds of annoyance.

He wrenched his eyes away from the letter and sent her a nasty look at her comment. She shrugged, cupping her mug of tea in her hands, holding his stare with a blank one of her own.

"It's rude to stare," he commented back snootily. She bugged her eyes out him before crossing them at her nose, causing him to flinch slightly, caught off guard.

"You're a child," he grouched, turning away from her.

"You're cranky," she shot back, sticking her tongue out at him before downing the rest of her tea. "Are you going to sit here all day and sulk?"

"Maybe, but would I have to suffer through you staring at me all the while I'm doing it?"

"You are not nearly as interesting as you'd like to think you are, Malfoy," she sniffed, standing and stretching. She sent him a mocking, glaring look and he huffed at her.

"Come on," she called as she went to the back doors, tugging on a pair of sneakers she had left.

"What part of you thinks I want to go anywhere with you?"

"The sad lonely part that is hoping I can cure your crankiness with some adventure and tantalizing fun," she smirked. "C'mon Malfoy, usually you're the cheerful one and I'm the sad sulky lump. Get your shoes on."

"I'm not sure your idea of fun and mine are the same thing," he stalled. She grabbed a wadded-up piece of newspaper that had missed the waste basket and lobbed it at him, he turned it into a paper airplane with a bored flick of his wand, scowling at her.

"Guess you'll have to come find out," she taunted. She watched him sigh, standing up as he trudged over to pull shoes on as well. She led him outside and into the sunshine as she began leading him around the edge of the lake.

"You know, I don't know how to make a paper airplane," she said after a while. "Never learned."

"That's surprising," he said, the corners of his lips tugging up into a tiny smirk.

"That's what they tell me," she replied, studying the shoreline across the way. She could hear the giant squid nearby, splashing in the warm shallows of the season.

"Can you teach me?" She asked, flicking her hair out of her face. She should have pinned it up before they left.

"How to do the spell or how to physically fold one?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Do you know how to do both?"

He nodded and she smiled, dropping the subject. They were silent, walking along the shoreline, listening to the water and the birds chirping, the sun beating down on them.

"I've never done this before, you know," he said finally. He glanced at her, an embarrassed look on his face. "I mean…I don't really get out much."

"How do you like it so far?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder at him before continuing on ahead.

"It's not all bad," he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I was so…I was a bit of an ass earlier. I was just…things aren't great back home and I took it out on you. I don't like being that way to you."

"Sorry I ribbed you," she slowed down to walk beside him. "You aren't half bad, Malfoy, no matter what they say about you." She watched him laugh at that. "Apparently you don't hate me much, either."

"Yeah, I mean you've kinda grown on me," he knocked her shoulder with his gently, jokingly.

"Like a fungus?" She scrunched her nose, and they both laughed.

"Sure, like a fungus, you prat," he chuckled. "So, what now?"

"Now…" she shrugged. "We hangout."

"Hang out?" He looked skeptical. Seeing him, dresses in expensive summertime leisure wear, sweating slightly from the trek, surrounded by nature was almost comical. She fought her urge to tease him about it. "What did you have in mind?"

"Have you ever seen the boat house?"

"'Course," he answered. "Not since second year, I think it's empty now, but I don't know for sure."

"Me either, but I wonder…if there might still be an actual boat in there."

"A boat in the boathouse?" His eyes widened with humor. "That would be mad."

"It would be, but we should go and check, just in case."

He stared at her for a moment, slight discomfort still on her face, before nodding and motioning for her to lead the way.

"Wouldn't you know," Jamie said as they pushed their way through the creaky wood door. "A boat."

One single canoe was moored inside, bobbing in the water, and slightly dusty.

"Oars?" He asked, looking around the desolate shed. He found two, hanging on the wall. They were made of worn, scarred wood.

"Think it's okay to take it out on the lake?" She asked as she pulled out her wand, casting a quick scourgify to clear off the dust. "I don't see any holes."

"I don't see any, can you swim?" He asked her, walking over to pull up the metal door that was on a track, opening the shed up to the rest of the water.

"Uh huh," she nodded, "you?"

"Yeah, there's a pond at the manor," he explained, helping her into the boat. "Used to swim in it in the summers."

He climbed in, sitting at the bow. They each held an oar, and after a moment they figured out how to steer themselves out and onto the open water.

"That sounds nice," she said from behind him. It took them a few moments to establish a rhythm, but once they had it, they were cruising slowly across the lake. The grounds were quiet, save for the occasional bird chirp; the only constant sound was the splashing of the oars.

"What was it like, growing up Malfoy?" She asked him. He smiled, thinking.

"My dad has always been a little intense," he sighed. "Mum's great though, really protective…really involved. I never felt lonely, you know, she was always just there. Still is, just…maybe more distant now with things, or at least that's how it is with Father."

"How come?"

"My dad…he's very opinionated…very set in his ways. He's never been around much…he's always working or doing something, but he's made life good for us," she could hear the sadness in his voice. "He's just a little… lost right now. He wants me to be more like him."

"Is that what you want?" She asked him quietly.

"No," he sighed. "At first, I wanted to, because I thought that was what I was supposed to do, you know? Take over the family business, spout of pureblooded righteousness, spat at those who were different than us..."

"But?"

"But it started to get old," he said. "It's simple. You and your brother aren't completely awful people, and I've finally realized my lineage has done nothing for me in the terms of making me special. Everything I am, it's because I had to do it myself anyway. No one is that different after all."

"That's…Draco, that's a big deal," Jamie said softly.

"Yeah, well, it's kind of old being the school bully."

They were silent for a moment.

"Your mother?" She broke the sad silence.

"Huh, what?" He blinked, coming back to reality.

"What is she like?"

He smiled again. "Opinionated. Bossy. She'll cluck at you like a mother hen, try and feed you…always cooking...she won't let the elves do it, you know, and she swears she can cure any ailment…she's a mom."

Jamie chuckled. "That's nice."

They were floating in the middle of the lake, and he had turned so he was facing her. They talked and talked, about anything and everything. She told him about growing up as a Shacklebolt and adopted Weasley, about how she and the twins had really stuck together since day one. Her parents were good people, opposites that somehow went together, and he could hear the pride in her voice when she talked about how much her parents did for her.

"What was it like, living with a secret?" He asked her, a smile still on his face, which had never really left for the whole time. They had, at one point, sat on the floor of the canoe, spreading their legs out.

"Like standing in two places at once," she said, running a finger along the ragged hem of her cutoffs. "Like trying to bottle up a soda that's already fizzing over, trying to act like the Potter's were some hero fable, when in reality they were my own blood."

She shrugged. "The bigger challenge is trying to figure out how to be true to both sets of parents."

"What do you mean?"

"If you ask me who my parents are, my first inclination is to say Kingsley and Guinevere Shacklebolt." She sighed. "It makes me guilty, because James and Lily…they were my parents, they died for us— because of us I guess…it's hard to feel like I'm not betraying them sometimes, loving other people."

"You aren't betraying them," he placed his hand on her ankle, which were right beside him.

"I'm so proud of them, you know?" She turned away, and he could catch the emotion in her eyes, glittering with the threat of tears. "They died for something they believed in, for something good, and for us."

There was silence as he waited for her to continue, to collect herself.

"Sorry, I think that's why I usually don't talk about this much. I think I've gotten really good at masking everything…disassociating. Sometimes it's easier to just shove everything down, to leave it alone."

"Yeah," he whispered in agreement, feeling his chest tighten, his own eyes stinging, "but you don't have to anymore."

"I can't," she agreed, swiping at her eyes. "What happened with Cedric…I can't just let him be another ghost, they aren't ghosts, any of them. I have to deal with it, even though it hurts."

Afternoon came around, and she pulled out a shrunken basket from her pocket, tapping it with her wand to change it back to a full-sized picnic basket. She had made up the basket before breakfast, intent on enjoying it on the lake with or without company.

After lunch, she had slowly, cautiously, crawled over so that she was sitting right beside him. Eventually, they were lying flat on the bottom, smushed slightly together, staring up at the sky on their backs.

They kept talking, really opening up. He was surprised by how much calmer Jamie could be when she wanted and when she wasn't with her friends. He found he sort of liked this side of her, despite the grief he could still hear in her voice.

The sky was starting to twinge pink and gold…evening settling in, and he knew they would have to head back soon. They had spent all day out there, and he was starving again, and he knew she was, too.

"Do you think Professor Snape will be wondering after us," he asked, stifling a yawn.

"Probably," she agreed and slowly sat up. He moved to pull himself up onto the bench just as she got into a kneeling position to make her way to the other end.

"Oh shit!" She cried out as the boat wobbled, and she stood without thinking. He turned around quickly at her exclamation, displacing the balance, and with a shout, they both tipped over into the waters.

She surfaced beside him, spitting out some water and roaring with laughter.

"It's cold!" He let out a yelp, treading closer to her, her teeth chattering, but grinning.

"If you wanted a swim, you should have just said something," she joked, moving closer as well. Their chests were almost touching, and they both wore real-genuine wide smiles. It was the first time she had seen ever him really smile.

It was beautiful.

They helped each other haul their selves out of the water and into the wobbly canoe. Jamie charmed the boat, so it sped through the water on its own, electing to just borrow the boat for the summer and take it straight to their dock at the cottage.

When they arrived, Severus was standing in the yard watching for them. They waved and he waved back, shoulders relaxing as he watched them disembark and secure the canoe to the dock.

Teeth chattering, the trudged inside and into the warmth to have dinner and maybe sit by the fire, as they had taken to in the evenings. Severus would read or occasionally talk quietly to Jamie, reflecting on his memories of her mum.

It was good. It was…well, it was something.