A/N: A big thank-you to DS2010 and Louise Spinster Black for reviewing the last chapter! Thanks also to those who favourited or subscribed. Remember, if you want to see your name here, leave a review!

Here's Chapter Four!

Chapter Four: Always Friends

At half-past eleven that night, Harry cautiously and silently tiptoed out of his dorm and made his way down to the empty common room. Without hesitating, he swung the portrait open and climbed out.

"Where on earth are you going at this hour?" demanded the Fat Lady.

"Shh!" said Harry, wincing slightly at the volume of her voice. "I'll be back."

He turned his back on the Fat Lady, ignoring the rest of her grumblings, feeling safe in the knowledge that she would have forgotten all about this by morning. After centuries of guarding the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, the Fat Lady had grown so accustomed to students sneaking out for nighttime jaunts after curfew that she hardly thought it worth reporting to the professors anymore. However, Harry felt distinctly sorry for the poor adventurers in the early days who had had to pay for this current level of blissful indifference with numerous lectures, detentions, and point deductions back when the Fat Lady wasn't so blasé.

Harry had never seen the trophy room before, but after casually asking the Weasley twins where it was, he'd received explicit instructions on how to get there and the bonus information that it was always left unlocked. Fred and George had been none the wiser about his intentions to sneak there after curfew, assuming he was merely curious about the school.

Harry carefully crept through the corridors, keeping a sharp eye out for Filch — after having a few run-ins with the grumpy caretaker and his tattling cat, Harry had no desire to be caught by either of them. Filch had not as yet caught him breaking the rules, but he clearly disliked Harry (and students in general) and any detention he gave was sure to be horrible — Harry had heard the horror stories from the Weasley twins.

When he arrived at the trophy room, Draco was already waiting for him. The normally icy Slytherin offered Harry a genuine smile as he came in.

"Hey, Harry."

"Hey, yourself," Harry returned. He looked Draco up and down. "You okay?"

Draco sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Not really," he admitted. "I've been a real prat, haven't I?"

"Well, that was kind of what we were aiming for," joked Harry before he turned serious. "But yeah, you've been going…a bit overboard. Especially with the Remembrall thing."

Draco cringed. "I'm really sorry about that," he apologised. "I really have no idea what I was thinking…I was just so frustrated…and then you almost got expelled…"

"Nah, I didn't," said Harry easily.

Draco scoffed softly. "Yes, and that was a miracle — speaking of which, what punishment did McGonagall give you? Detention? Loss of privileges? A ban from flying lessons?"

Harry smirked. "She made me the Gryffindor Seeker."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," Draco groaned. "I swear I'll make it up to you, I'll — wait, what?" He stared at the other boy with incredulous grey eyes.

Harry grinned. "She put me on the Quidditch team, Draco. Oliver Wood — that's the captain — told me I'm the youngest Seeker in a century."

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Draco exclaimed in amazement. "You broke the rules and McGonagall put you on the Quidditch team?"

"You broke them first," Harry reminded him, and Draco winced. "I can't say I regret it, since I get to play Quidditch — but still…that was a really dumb thing to do, Draco. And not at all necessary for our act."

Draco dropped his gaze. "I know."

"So why'd you do it?" pressed Harry. "You mentioned something about being frustrated?"

"Yeah," Draco admitted. Eyes that were not normally so expressive rose so Harry could see the longing in them. "I didn't think it would be this bad."

Harry was nonplussed. "What are you talking about?"

"I hate this, Harry. I hate what we're doing. What if we pretend so well that we really do learn to dislike each other?"

"That will never happen," Harry insisted. "You know it's not true, I know it's not true — it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks."

"That's easy for you to say."

Harry blinked at him. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

Draco sighed. "You're playing the good guy, Harry. Everyone — Slytherins aside — likes you…you have other friends besides me. I, on the other hand, am playing a pureblood git everyone loves to hate, and even my own Housemates don't really like me as much as they want to suck up to me. Turns out, it really isn't fun being the bad guy. I don't have friends, I have people who want to be associated with the Malfoy name. Do you have any idea how lonely that is?"

Harry opened his mouth to deny this assessment, but found he really couldn't. Throughout all their plans, it had never occurred to either of them that Draco was the one who would have to suffer the harsher consequences of their pretence.

"I'm sorry," he offered instead. "I didn't realise."

"How could you?" Draco scoffed. "I thought this would be fairly easy — a marvellous scheme to pull the wool over everyone's eyes. I thought it would be entertaining." He snorted bitterly. "Shows how much I know, doesn't it?"

"They just don't know the real you, Draco," Harry said bracingly. "There'll be a day when you won't have to pretend anymore. Until then, I promise I'll stick by you."

"You won't ever forget that it's all pretend?"

Harry drew his brows together. "Was it also pretend when you insulted Ron?"

Draco cringed. "No, that was real," he confessed. At Harry's look of censure, he explained, "Weasley rubs me the wrong way, Harry. And what he said about Father and You-Know-Who — he doesn't know anything!"

"You're right, he doesn't," Harry pointed out. "Ron doesn't know it's all pretend, Draco. I don't like it either, but for the sake of your family we have to make sure the wizarding world thinks your father is still a Death Eater. You can't blame Ron for thinking the worst of your father when that's what we want."

"It isn't fair," Draco exclaimed.

"I know," said Harry sympathetically. "But you've got me, okay? Even if no one else bothers to be your friend — you've got me, Draco."

The Slytherin met the Gryffindor's eyes and saw the complete sincerity in them, and Draco smiled.

"Thanks, Harry."

"No problem."

Draco bounded downstairs for breakfast at eight-thirty like he always did. To his surprise, he saw that his mother and father were not alone at the breakfast table; there was a little boy with them, about his age, with messy jet black hair and sparkling emerald green eyes.

"Er…good morning, Mother, Father," he managed to greet them, trying not to stare too obviously at the unknown boy.

Narcissa gave him a warm smile. "Good morning, Draco."

Lucius merely nodded, content to watch the interaction between his son and the brunet next to him. Harry had looked up when Draco entered, and upon seeing a boy his own age, had brightened and given him a friendly, if somewhat timid, smile. Draco reflexively returned it, though his eyes plainly showed his confusion. His gaze darted to his parents for some explanation.

"Potter, this is my son, Draco," said Lucius. "Draco, this is…"

"Harry Potter," Draco breathed. He had glimpsed the scar on the other boy's forehead.

Harry looked astonished.

"Er, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "How'd you know?"

"How do I know?" exclaimed Draco. "Everyone in the wizarding world knows who you are! I can't believe I'm actually meeting you! I didn't know you were my age!" He was grinning, babbling excitedly with all the enthusiasm of a seven-year-old. Harry looked rather taken aback and shrank a little into his seat.

"Draco, don't overwhelm the poor boy," Lucius scolded. "Where are your manners?"

Draco immediately looked contrite. "Sorry, Father." He bounced over to Harry and offered his hand. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you, Potter."

Harry's grin returned as he shook Draco's hand. "Just call me Harry." His brow furrowed. "What did you mean when you said everyone knows me?"

Draco's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he shot his father a panicked look. Lucius sighed.

"I'll explain later. Have some breakfast, Draco. Potter, finish your meal."

Draco was brimming with questions, but he obediently took a seat next to Harry, who was relieved that he had someone other than Lucius Malfoy at his side. Draco looked very much like a miniature version of his father, but he was far less intimidating. No more than a minute had passed before the children's natural curiosity and openness took over, and soon Harry and Draco were chattering a mile a minute to each other, shovelling food into their mouths while completely ignoring Narcissa's chiding to mind their table manners.

Severus, Lucius groaned inwardly, look what you've done.

At half past midnight, Harry and Draco decided to call it a night, and were about to go back to their dorms when they heard something that made them freeze.

"What is it, Mrs. Norris? Smell something, do you?"

Harry and Draco looked at each other in horror. What was Filch still doing up?

"Hide!" Draco hissed. He and Harry squashed themselves behind the door of the trophy room, hoping that Filch wasn't coming in here but not really believing that he wouldn't.

"The minute he passes, make a run for it," said Harry.

Draco fumbled in his robes for his wand and pointed it towards the room next to this one. He was aiming blind; he didn't really care what he hit, as long as he hit something. "Expelliarmus."

As far as spells went, there were more effective ones he could have used besides the Disarming Spell, but it did the trick. The jet of red light knocked over something that sounded like a metal cup, and the clattering noise brought Filch and Mrs Norris running. While the pair searched for the source of the disturbance with their backs to the door, Harry and Draco darted out of the room…

…and promptly collided with a suit of armour. Draco swore as they fell over amidst pieces of medieval metal. The terrific din masked Filch's scampering footsteps, but neither Harry nor Draco had any doubt that he was hurrying towards them at top speed.

"RUN!" cried Harry.

The boys took off at a sprint, not really caring which direction they went. They heard Filch huffing and panting some distance behind them — hopefully still too far to see who they were — as they ripped through a tapestry into a hidden passageway. They ran the entire length of the passage and came out somewhere near the Charms classroom, miles away from the trophy room.

"Did…we…lose…him?" Harry wheezed through his pants. Beside him, Draco was gasping for air.

"I don't…hear him," he panted. He had just about recovered his breath and was ready to propose carefully making their way back to their dorms when a doorknob rattled, and the boys' worst nightmare appeared.

As soon as the boys had finished breakfast, Lucius launched into his explanation. He started with a brief history of Voldemort's rise and a vague prophecy about the person who would defeat the Dark Lord. Draco knew most of this already, but Harry listened with stunned amazement.

"You mean I'm the one the prophecy was talking about?" he asked incredulously.

"We don't know for sure," said Lucius, "but the Dark Lord certainly seemed to think so. "He tracked your parents to Godric's Hollow and —"

"He killed them?" Harry's voice was soft, his eyes filled with unshed tears. Draco impulsively patted his shoulder in sympathy, and even Lucius sighed sadly.

"I'm afraid so, Harry. He was after you, but something your mother did saved you from him. The Dark Lord's Killing Curse rebounded on him, and destroyed him."

"So Voldemort's dead?"

Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco winced.

"Harry," said Narcissa, "don't say his name."

"But he's gone, right?" Harry insisted. "Why can't I use his name?"

"The Dark Lord was the most feared wizard of our time," Lucius said grimly. "There are many who are too frightened to use his real name."

"But he's gone," Harry repeated. "You said it yourself — I beat him. He can't come back."

Merlin help me, he's a Gryffindor in the making, Lucius thought with a grimace. Out loud, he said, "We don't know that for certain. I won't lie, Potter — the Dark Lord was the most powerful wizard of our time — except for Dumbledore," he admitted grudgingly. "It's possible that he could return. Dumbledore certainly seems to think so."

"But he might not?"

"He might not," Lucius conceded. "But that's beside the point right now. After your parents died, Potter, Dumbledore hid you away from the wizarding world, and he wouldn't tell anyone where you were. A few days ago, Severus Snape —"

"That's the man who brought me here, right?" Harry interrupted. "The one with the oily hair and the ugly nose?"

Draco made a noise of complaint. "Don't talk about my godfather like that!"

"That was your godfather?" Harry turned to him in surprise. "Well…sorry," he offered. "I guess that was rude."

"Indeed," said Narcissa.

"If I may continue…" Lucius said in annoyance, pulling Harry and Draco's attention back to him. "As I was saying, Severus discovered that you were living with your Muggle aunt and uncle…"

"Ew!" Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You were living with Muggles?"

"Draco!" Narcissa scolded. "Let your father finish."

"Sorry, Father."

Lucius resisted the urge to roll his eyes heavenwards (Malfoys did not show supplication). "Potter's relatives were treating him appallingly, so we decided that he should come and live in Malfoy Manor," he said — mostly to Draco, as he had explained all this to Harry already. "Severus fetched him here last night."

"You're living with us?" Draco asked Harry, who shrugged.

"Guess so."

"Wicked!" Draco grinned. "Hey, does Dumbledore know?"

Lucius scowled. "No, Draco, and we would like to keep it that way."

Draco's grin widened. "You pulled one over Dumbledore," he sniggered in delight. "That's awesome!"

Lucius looked rather gratified.

Peeves the poltergeist squealed with delight when he saw two first-years so obviously breaking curfew. "Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties?" he cooed. "Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Shut up, Peeves — please — you'll get us thrown out," Harry begged.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice. "It's for your own good, you know."

"For Salazar's sake, Peeves, out of the way!" Draco snapped imperiously.

He realised his mistake almost as soon as he made it; Peeves gave him an evil look and instantly began crowing, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Harry and Draco ducked under Peeves and raced to the end of the corridor, where their luck ran out.

"It's locked!" Harry moaned, tugging helplessly at the door.

"Move over!" Draco ordered. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the lock. "Alohomora!"

The lock clicked open and the boys tumbled inside, slamming the door behind them. They pressed their ears against the wood, straining to hear something besides their hearts hammering against their ribcages.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please'."

"Don't mess me about, Peeves — where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say 'please'."

"All right, then — please," Filch growled.

"NOTHING! Haha!" Peeves whooped. "Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha haa!"

Filch cursed in rage, making Harry and Draco wince on the other side of the door, but at long last they heard both the caretaker and the poltergeist move away.

"That was close," breathed Harry. He yelped as Draco grabbed his arm painfully, his fingernails digging into skin. "What?" he hissed, following Draco's horrified gaze.

They were not in a room. They were in a corridor — the forbidden corridor on the third floor. And towering above them, with six baleful yellow eyes and thick drool dripping off its frightening jaws of teeth, was a monstrous three-headed dog.

Draco volunteered to take Harry on a tour of the manor as soon as Lucius was done talking to them, and for the next forty minutes he made Harry explore every inch of the main wing.

"And this is my room!" Draco declared ebulliently, flinging open the door to his bedroom — which, Harry noted, was directly across the hall from his. "This is going to be so fun!" Draco grinned at Harry with genuine exuberance. "I've always wanted a little brother."

"I am not little," Harry objected.

"You're smaller than me," Draco pointed out. It was true; years of improper nourishment and hard labour from the Dursleys had stunted Harry's growth — he was half a foot shorter than Draco and a lot skinnier. Unbeknownst to either of the boys, Narcissa fully intended to rectify this, as well as his dismal eyesight.

"That doesn't mean anything," said Harry. "I bet I could wrestle you."

"No you can't!"

"I could," Harry insisted. "I bet I'd win, too."

"No way!" cried Draco. "I'm not letting some scrawny kid beat me at wrestling."

Harry's expression became full of mischief. "Wanna bet?"

Instead of replying, Draco launched himself at Harry, and within seconds they were clawing and grappling at each other and rolling over Draco's carpeted floor.

"Ow — OW! Let go!" Draco thrashed in Harry's grip; the brunet had him pinned on his stomach and positioned his backside firmly on his back while holding both Draco's wrists. This had occurred so quickly that some might well have imagined that Draco had let the smaller boy win, but they would be the ones who didn't know Draco Malfoy. Those who did would know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Draco would never simply let anyone win against him — he had far too much Malfoy pride to deliberately lose. Thus, it was obvious that Harry, despite his diminutive size, was no slouch in the wrestling department.

"D'you give up?" Harry demanded.

"Give up?" Draco repeated in scandalised tones. "Never!"

He wriggled harder, but Harry, with a wicked gleam in his eye, lifted his bottom and landed it down again rather heavily, prompting an oof of surprise from Draco.

"I'm not letting you up till you say I've won," Harry warned.

Draco scowled, but it was obvious his struggles weren't doing anything. Harry was a determined little bugger.

"All right, all right!" he said grumpily. "Fine, you win. Let me go!"

Harry obligingly rose and extended a hand to Draco. Draco took it and allowed Harry to pull him to his feet.

"You just got lucky," Draco jibed.

"Did not."

"Did so!"

Harry lifted his face challengingly. "You want me to do it again?"

"No!"

Harry smirked, and Draco realised his reaction had been a bit too forceful to project the confident impression he wanted. A faint pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks, and he scowled at Harry.

"Don't be like that," said Harry. "Maybe I won at wrestling, but I bet you know loads of magic."

Draco nodded, his scowl disappearing. "I do," he said proudly. "I've been practising since I was five."

"Could you show me?" Harry asked eagerly.

Draco was glad for a chance to show off. He used his finger to draw shapes in the air; they materialised in wispy streaks of sparkling green.

"Cool!" Harry breathed. Draco smiled smugly.

Harry shot the blond a sideways glance. "Hey, Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here," Harry said sincerely. "I don't think it would be much fun living here without someone my own age. Even at the Dursleys, there was Dudley — even if he was horrible."

"I'm glad you're here too," Draco confessed. "It gets really boring sometimes without anyone to play with."

Harry grinned. "We're friends now, right? I've never had a friend before."

"'Course we are," confirmed Draco. "We're living together, aren't we? I'm going to be your first and best friend — Malfoys are never second-best. We'll always be friends."

Harry beamed. "That sounds good."

For a few seconds Harry and Draco stood in transfixed terror, their minds completely blank save for the shock of encountering such a beast in Hogwarts. Then one of the dog's heads growled, and Harry groped blindly behind him for the doorknob. Better expulsion than death.

To his utter relief, his fingers found the handle almost immediately, and he wasted no time pushing the door open, pulling Draco with him with his other hand. They tumbled into the corridor outside, and Draco kicked the door closed just as the snapping jaws of the three-headed dog charged towards them.

"What in Merlin's name," Harry squeaked, "is that doing in a school?!"

"Not very observant, are you?" Draco was visibly shaken, but he still managed to summon his usual superior tone. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry guessed.

"No, dummy." Draco rolled his eyes, sounding more like himself now that he had something to talk about. "It was standing on a trap door. It must be guarding something."

"What's it guarding?"

"Well, I don't know, do I?" Draco brushed off his robes and glanced around. "Filch is gone. We should be able to sneak back safely."

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"Goodnight, Harry." Draco took off in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

"Hey, Draco."

The blond turned back. "What?" he asked impatiently — after narrow escapes from Filch and a three-headed dog, he was eager to retreat to the safety of his dorm.

"Remember, no matter what, we're always friends," Harry reminded him. Draco's lips quirked in a small smile.

"I'll remember." He turned a corner and disappeared, and Harry scuttled off towards Gryffindor Tower.

A/N: Thoughts? Predictions? Hopes? Critique? I'll gladly read them all in your reviews!

Next week: things get very interesting on Halloween - both in the present and in the past.