Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!

The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Quietly humming the tune of a song he'd swayed to lifetimes ago in a muggle bar, Draco sat propped up comfortably against his favourite tree by the lake. Despite the book sitting patiently in his lap, he was staring out over the dark water as it ebbed and swept back up, and if Draco listened hard enough, he could hear it slapping lightly against the bank. The soft plupping was a comforting sound, one he had not listened to since he was fifteen, and when he shut his eyes, it was easy for Draco to pretend that he was back there once more. Young and insecure, but facing no real problems; Draco would trade all of the riches he possessed to transport himself back to one of those easier afternoons and rewrite his history. But it was bittersweet, only wishful thinking, and Draco knew that this could not be done.

Still, it was nice being out in the open air. The blanket he'd brought along to sit on was a gift from Minny, given to him on his way out the door on September first. She made sure to tell him that she had knit it herself – but only ever in her free time, after everyone had gone to bed – and Draco could not have been more touched by her thoughtfulness. In this way, the small elf reminded him once more of Dobby, and Draco felt a sharp pang in his heart for not appreciating him sooner. Minny's pattern was simple, but perfect, and when she presented Draco with the Slytherin crested blanket he was overcome with the urge to hug her. Though he did not, he made sure to take her tiny hand in his and tell Minny just how grateful he was that she thought of him. She had only stammered and shied away, but as Draco moved to the porch to apparate, he thought he saw her give a toothy grin.

As he was sitting on that very same blanket, his shoes lying in the grass at the edge and a scarf wrapped around his neck, Draco pondered the changes around him. The season was beginning to turn, and despite the sun's best efforts to warm the Earth under it, the air was undoubtedly growing colder and colder as November progressed. Leaves had begun to fall, decorating parts of Hogwart's lawn in a wonderful patchwork quilt of yellow, brown, orange, and red. Draco could smell them as they turned and faded away, leaving a sort of musk clouding the air closest to the ground. It was not an unpleasant smell, and Draco shut his eyes to take it in. With the sun on his face and a breeze blowing idly through his hair, Draco did not open them until a shadow fell over him.

When he did, he was both shocked and pleased to find Gregory there. A welcoming smile quickly split his face, and Draco allowed himself to take a moment and look Gregory over. Though it should have been impossible, Gregory had grown at least another inch since September, and the hem of his pants now almost revealed his ankles. His shirts still fit him well enough – although once, while watching Gregory move his trunk across the room, Draco had feared his muscles would tear straight through his white button down. Draco ended up at his face and briefly indulged himself there. His jaw was harder, stronger than it had been even a year ago, and the frown lines Gregory procured from his more difficult lessons had only become more pronounced, but a deeper look showed Draco what he was searching for. Same sweet smile, same understanding eyes, same little scar just above his left eyebrow from a game gone wrong in their childhood. No matter how Gregory changed, Draco could always find him there, hiding just behind the ever-changing planes of his face.

Realizing he'd likely been staring for too long, Draco cleared his throat and held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

"So, ah, what brings you out here?"

"Looking for you," Gregory answered, and Draco's heart jumped hopefully.

"Why's that?"

"I haven't seen you in almost a week. I know we've both been busy, but I just wanted to catch up and check in."

Trying to swallow his disappointment, Draco pushed a smile onto his face and made room on the blanket for him.

"I'm fine. Just taking a moment to relax amongst all this coursework. Been staying up late to study with Hermione, and getting up early to tutor Harry."

"Oh, are you? That's great, that's just great... Must be annoying to tutor though, eh?"

Gregory asked, something strange in his words. However, as he was unable to put a finger on just what it was that felt off, Draco only gave a little shrug.

"I don't mind it so much. He's a good student, actually. He just needs to be taken through it two or three times when it comes to Potions."

"From what I recall, Potter seemed to be able to handle Potions just fine."

There it was again. If Draco let his imagination run away with him, he could almost say that Gregory sounded jealous. As that was a completely ridiculous notion, he dismissed it immediately.

"Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to sit down with me?" Draco teased, giving the space beside him a small pat.

"Right, right," Gregory answered, kicking off his shoes as well before falling into a similar position to Draco.

While the tree was thick enough to support both of their backs, it was still a tight squeeze, and as Gregory's arm pressed against his, Draco's stomach erupted in a nervous sort of fluttering. He knew this sort of behaviour was pathetic, but Draco could not help the sad romantic he'd become over the summer.

Muggle media, a treat that Draco had consumed in mass quantity, all seemed to be driven by the notion of love. He could recall protagonists rushing in to break up weddings and sacrificing themselves as a giant ship snapped in half if there was even the slightest hint that someone loved them. It was ironic, in a sense, that Draco had seen all of these "movies" with someone who had absolutely not loved him, and it was a piece of irony he did not like to dwell on. He liked to, instead, remind himself that despite the company he'd kept, the moving pictures were art in a new form that he adored. It was all about the new experience for him, not who he was with.

Even more enjoyable than the "cinema" were the books. Those were what had truly entrapped Draco in the silly idea of love, but he couldn't be blamed for their beautiful words or the wonderful pictures that made his heart beat faster. Courtship, triumphs, losses, love – he revelled in them. They were all things Draco would never be able to partake in, because if there was one thing that had come from the summer, it was the realization that Draco would never marry. With the uncertainty of his mother's reaction to the object of his pining filling him with anxiety, Draco figured it would be easier if he decided then, in that moment, to be alone. This made losing himself in a book a gift, an act that came more easily to him than blinking or breathing.

"What are you reading?"

The question broke him from his thoughts, and Draco turned to Gregory with a half-smile.

"A book."

"Obviously," Gregory answered, rolling his eyes. "What's it called? What's it about? You've got to give me more than that."

"The Great Gatsby. It's a novel set in New York over in America about a man named Nick who befriends a rich man named Gatsby. Gastby thinks he's in love with Nick's cousin, Daisy, who's married and has a child. It is revealed that they know each other from their youth, and they begin an affair. That's as far as I've gotten, though. I do know that things go badly, and Gatsby is killed, but that's only because Pelle spoiled the entire twist for me when he gave me the book."

"Pelle?" Gregory asked, cocking his head. "Who's Pelle?"

Draco froze. Had he said his name? Truly? After all this time, after all he'd done to forget him, he'd said it aloud. Draco wanted to scream. His stomach heaved and old disappointments threatened to choke him, but Draco swallowed all of this back down and ran his fingers across the cover of the book. It was only a beat before he opened his mouth to give an answer, and he hoped that it wasn't enough to tip off Gregory.

"An old friend from the summer."

"Well, why didn't you mention him? I would have liked to meet your summer friends."

"We weren't exactly friends by the time I came back to you. It ended on bad terms, and I didn't want to bring up my ancient drama," Draco answered breezily, praying that this nonchalance would turn Gregory off the subject entirely. Of course, Draco knew that he would be wrong.

"I'm sorry, then. It must have been hard on you."

Draco turned his face away from the boy sitting next to him in favour of looking out over the dark water.

"It wasn't so bad. I was pretty much alone after that, but I learned a lot about myself, and I taught myself some new things. I was a horrible little ponce in school, but for the most part, I like who I've become now."

They sat in the silence that followed for a long while, though a sense of understanding passed between them in the quiet. Draco thought he liked these moments with Gregory best of all. There was no one, with perhaps the exception of Mother, who knew him as well as Gregory did. Draco liked it that way.

"Is there anything else you've read?" Gregory asked.

Turning back to him with a curious smile, Draco quirked up an eyebrow.

"Since when are you so interested in literature?"

"What, you still can't believe that I can read?"

Draco scoffed as Gregory laughed at him.

"I said that when we were twelve! Twelve! When are you going to let that one go? I don't even know how you found out about that, anyway. Harry told me about the polyjuice."

"A man has his ways, Draco, and I am afraid to say that I am never letting that go. Of course I could read, but why would I ever do it myself when you could just do it for me?"

"And so, the truth comes out!" Draco crowed, pointing a finger at Gregory. "That's why you've been my friend all these years!"

Gregory snatched his hand from the air as if it were a snitch, holding it firmly in his own. Draco's stomach jumped at the contact, and he tried to keep his head on his shoulders. This couldn't be happening right now. Gregory was in dangerous territory, and it took all of Draco's restraint to keep from fleeing.

"It was a definite factor, but I've stuck with you for far more than that. Now, stop dodging my question and tell me what books you've been reading, or else I'll have to assume that there's a reason you've been so secretive about their contents."

Blushing furiously at what Gregory was hinting, Draco slipped his hand free and shoved him lightly with his elbow.

"Gross, Gregory. They're only muggle books. Some of them are completely mental, but I will admit that I've really been enjoying them. I was reading one called Frankenstein back in September-"

"The green guy with the bolts?"

"No! You know, you and Harry could both benefit from actually picking up a book sometime."

"Right, sorry. What else?"

Draco thought back to all the books he'd torn through that summer and found that he could remember most of them with a distinct fondness.

"Wuthering Heights, Lord of the Flies, Dracula, to name a few. Some poetry here and there," he mused. "I enjoyed them all, and there are some of them that I think you'd like too."

"Is that all you did this summer? Read?"

"Not quite. I picked up a few other things as well. Have you heard of movies?"

Gregory's eyebrows knit together, and he shook his head.

"Well, they're almost like our photos and portraits, but there's something strange about them. They move in and out of frames like ours do, but instead of having their own thoughts and will, they move the same way each time. You can try to tell them to do something different, but they never listen. I don't think they can even hear you. There's another thing; they can talk like portraits too, but they only ever speak to each other. You pay with muggle currency to sit in the dark as they move about and live their lives, and you get no say in it. The most important rule is that you're to sit quietly the whole time, otherwise a rude old bat will turn around and shush you."

"Sitting in the dark, not being allowed to talk, and portraits completely ignoring you? That sounds lonely, Draco."

"But it simply isn't! It's a wonderful experience, Gregory, I'll have to take you over the holidays. I know you'll love it."

"Alright, so books, movies – is there anything else that I should know about?"

Draco laid his head back against the bark behind him, pursing his lips and turning his eyes up to look at the branches.

"I learned how to cook. Muggle food isn't cheap at restaurants, and I couldn't keep converting Galleons to pounds, it was getting too expensive. So, I took a class or two, and I've gotten pretty good at it."

"Oh, have you?" Gregory asked, and Draco slid his gaze over to look at him. "Now that you've said that… you have to cook for me. I don't make the rules, I just enforce them."

Draco laughed and pushed off the tree to sit up properly.

"Oh, I have to, do I? Well, how about right now? The house-elves should be done with lunch, I don't think they'd object to us using the kitchen."

Draco's stomach fluttered at the smile Gregory gave him, and he found himself stuck in his spot even after the other boy stood up. It was pathetic how smitten he was, but Draco had no time to dwell on that as Gregory offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. Draco hid his embarrassment in favour of slipping his shoes on and stooping down to fold up the blanket, one question repeating itself over and over in his mind. What was happening to him?

It was a short walk from their tree to the castle, and an even shorter one from the Great Hall to the kitchens. Draco led Gregory through an inconspicuous door and down the old stone steps, the pair stopping as they encountered the brightly lit corridor. It was, perhaps, the antithesis of the dungeon corridor where their old dormitory lay, which made it fitting that Hufflepuffs would live here. Though Draco did not know which painting their dorms were hidden behind, it did not matter. He knew how to get where he wanted to go. Approaching the painting of the fruit bowl, Draco reached out and lightly tickled the pear. The fruit transfigured into a large green handle, and so Draco pushed it open and pulled an open-mouthed Gregory through behind him.

Hundreds of short elves rushed around them, checking stockpiles and cleaning large pots and trays. Draco smiled a little and stepped back out of the way of one as it ran by him, careful not to get in its way. The tiny thing grumbled and turned its withered face toward Draco, only for it to split into a ghastly grin. Draco gave a puzzled frown as it bowed low before him, and Gregory leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"Do you know this elf?"

"Young Master Malfoy has given Kreacher a great gift this day. A generous gift, Master Malfoy. A gift Kreacher is not worthy of."

Draco glanced around himself as other elves began to stop and stare before leaning down and gently pulling Kreacher up to stand.

"Please, don't bow to me, I'm not your master. You should say hello to Gregory too."

"Young Master Malfoy has forgotten his place, his rite in the traditions. Young Master Malfoy is gone now," Kreacher grumbled, turning a baleful eye on Draco before going to shuffle away. "Kreacher does not see Master Malfoy anymore, no, he doesn't. Even if Master Malfoy stands before him, Kreacher does not see him."

Great, even the house-elves didn't like him. Draco stood, shellshocked, and watched Kreacher scuttle off. He thought he recognized him then, finally placing him as the elf that helped the Dark Lord in his mission for the prophecy. The one who had fed his mother and Aunt Bella information about Sirius. Shuddering, Draco wondered how he had gotten there. He didn't have much time for this, however, as a sharp crack resounded in the kitchens and a joyful squeak rose up from one of the elves.

"Master Draco!"

Merlin, was that Minny? Draco whipped his head around as she ran to him, hopping gleefully from foot to foot. She was there, she was really there. Draco gave a bewildered laugh and kneeled down to her level.

"What on earth are you doing here, Minny?"

"Master Draco, it is being so good to see you! Mistress asked Minny to update her on how you was doing here at Hogwarts, and so smart Minny asked Potts to be telling her anything he is hearing about you! Potts told Minny right away that you was here, and Minny came to ask you how you are being!"

Gregory gave a little chuckle, and kneeled next to Draco.

"And you, Mister Gregory, is needing to be told that your mother is missing you, and that she is being well. She asked Minny to tell you that as soon as Minny was seeing you."

"Thank you, Minny, please tell her that I'm well too."

"Oh, yes sir! And how is Master Draco being? Mistress will be wanting to know."

"You can tell Mother that I'm just fine, and that I'll write more about it to her soon." Draco smiled and gestured to his blanket. "Thank you, again, Minny. This has really come in handy to me."

"Master Draco is being very welcome! Minny was happy to make it for his using. What is Master Draco doing in the kitchens down here?"

She gasped as soon as the words left her lips, and as Draco saw her dashing to the table, he lunged after her.

"Minny, no! Stop that!" he cried as he wrapped his arms around her middle and hauled her back from it.

She froze, stiffer than a board, in his arms, but wailed as large tears leaked from her eyes.

"Master Draco, Minny has to punish herself! Minny was breaking rules, she was asking questions of Master Draco! Minny is not allowed to be doing that!"

"Minny, I order you never to punish yourself in front of me, understand? Do you hear me?"

Giving giant sniffles that shook her entire body, Minny nodded her understanding. Draco let out a breath and released her, straightening her dishrag dress, pushing the bright sunflower pattern back into sorts. He looked her over once more before he was conscious of Gregory, who was still standing behind him with wide eyes.

"There, now, that's not so bad, is it?" Draco murmured and pushed himself to his feet. "It's perfectly fine to ask me questions, Minny. To answer yours, I was hoping to use the kitchen to make something small to eat. Maybe treacle tart? Do you think Potts would be okay with that, Minny?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Minny can be helping you too! Minny can be going to get ingredients for Master Draco and sir to make the treat!"

Draco gave a grin, pleased to see that she had recovered from her episode, and sent her on her way. He pulled Gregory behind him and over to the nearest oven before sitting at the table to wait.

"What was that about?" Gregory asked, and Draco searched his eyes carefully.

"Minny is sweet and kind. It's barbaric that she should have to punish herself for asking a simple question, don't you agree?"

"I mean, I guess? But isn't that just what house elves do? I thought they had rules that they have to follow."

"It's easy to think about it that way, but living on my own for those months showed me just how difficult it is picking up after a wizard, especially picking up after a wizard like myself. It's not an easy job, so her life shouldn't be made any more difficult by punishing her over ridiculous and arbitrary things. Mother agrees with me, which is why we're trying to retrain her not to do those things. Mother and I like Minny a lot, and we want her around for a while."

Gregory nodded slowly, and Draco could practically see him processing the ideas Draco had presented. After only another short moment, he gave his final nod and looked over to him.

"I see what you mean, and I think I agree? It'll take a bit for me to wrap my head around it fully, but I can see that her loyalty to your family is strong. That speaks for something."

Draco opened his mouth to answer but shut it again promptly as Minny skittered over to the table with an armful of ingredients.

"Minny has brought the things for crust, Master Draco. Minny will get the things for filling next."

As she set the ingredients on the table, Draco did not even have the chance to thank her before she had run off once more.

"Right, then, shall we get started?" Draco asked, washing his hands and gesturing for Gregory to do the same.

Moving to the table Draco put some flour into a mixing bowl with salt and handed it off to Gregory to mix. It seemed that his downfall in potions would not leave him here, and as Gregory stirred too hard and too quickly, most of the flour puffed out onto his face and clothes. Draco couldn't help the laughter this forced from him, and as Gregory turned to him with a dangerous look, he tried to duck. This was unsuccessful, and Draco too was soon covered in a fine layer of flour. Gregory joined into his laughter then and Draco watched as he grabbed a wet rag to wipe his face off with.

Crossing over to Draco once he'd gotten most of it off himself, Gregory reached out with the rag to wipe the flour from Draco's forehead. Laughter faded to giggling as Gregory ran the rag down Draco's nose and cheeks, and by the time he was cleaning off Draco's chin, there were only a few, infrequent laughs left to share. A thick silence fell between them as Gregory brought the cloth up to wipe off Draco's lips. His heart felt as though it was about to emergency eject itself from his chest when Gregory's eyes lingered too long on his lips, and Draco fought the urge to lick them as they suddenly felt too dry.

"Master Draco, what a mess!"

Minny's surprised squeak saw the boys spring apart, and Draco blew out a tense breath as he went to help her clean it up. Running water told Draco that Gregory was grabbing another wet cloth, and as he brought it to help clean, Draco could not help admitting to himself that he was completely smitten. And with that thought, Draco knew he was doomed.