Malfoy hissed vehemently, "Are you satisfied, Potter? You're not the only
one who won't bow to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This is why I'm here. You
really want to pry?" Draco's eyes narrowed.
Mute, Harry nodded and settled himself on the rug at the side of Draco's bed.
Draco resigned himself to explaining his tale, and so began. "I'm here," Draco began, carefully enunciating each word, "because I-
A low hoot cut him off as Hedwig came flying into the room, a large note tied to her leg. The owl landed awkwardly on Harry's shoulder, slightly off- balance. Her master came to her rescue at once, swiftly removing her burden.
Tearing off the seal, the elated Potter boy called joyously, "It's from Ron!"
Looking less than enthusiastic was an understatement on Draco's part. "Ah, yes, perfect timing, Weasel."
Harry shot him a nasty look before reading. Draco sat on his bed, head in his hands as he listened to the sound of paper rustling. Suddenly -
"Oh, God..."
Draco looked up, curious. "What? Did the Weasleys' house collapse finally or something?"
Harry's over-bright eyes connected with Draco's, and this time he had no angry retort for the blonde's comment. "Remember that attack? From the news, I mean?"
Draco groaned and went back to massaging his temples. "Who was it this time? Granger?"
Harry scowled at what Draco's hopeful tone was implying, but he lowered his voice gravely. "The Finch-Fletchleys'."
Draco was slightly confused. "You mean that Hufflepuff boy who was Petrified in Second Year?"
Harry turned away and stared out the window. "Yes."
"It didn't know you were friends with him. You're not exactly popular in Hufflepuff House, after all. Not after this last year. You've also got Ravenclaw against you. And Slytherin," he added as an afterthought.
"You have no tact sometimes, did you know that?" Harry quipped, the pain in his chest now screaming to be released in another fight.
"Sorry," came his soft reply. Harry's head whipped around, and he stared incredulously at the blonde.
"What is wrong with you lately, Malfoy? You half act like a friend; you call me `Harry`; you try to teach me about something; you say `sorry`...." His voice took on a manic quality as it went on. Harry wanted to add *you kissed me* to the list, but it didn't seem like a good moment to bring that harsh memory up again.
Draco responded with anger. "What's wrong with me, Potter? THIS is what's wrong with me!" He twisted his arm around and pointed at his back. "And if it wasn't for *you* and *Voldemort*, then this wouldn't have happened!!"
"I don't even know what you're blaming me for - I don't know what I did! Would you care to enlighten me any time soon?" Harry shot back furiously.
This time, Draco's head spun away. He was fighting with himself, wondering if telling Potter was the right thing to do.
After an eternity, the Slytherin whispered, "I told you. You're not the only one who wouldn't bow to the Dark Lord."
Harry's jaw fell open slightly before he egged Draco on. "You mean, you actually turned the Dark Lord down? Only you and your pride, Malfoy."
"That's right, Potter, *pride*. The pride of being a Pureblood, a Malfoy, one of the most prestigious families in European wizarding history...the pride of being my own person."
The boy sitting on the rug shook his head, mouthing wordlessly, and so Draco continued.
"When my father found Crabbe, Goyle, and I, looking worse for wear outside your compartment on the train, he was not pleased. After reviving us to a lecture, he took us all to the Manor. This was unusual - he never takes Crabbe and Goyle home with us."
He paused, and then went on in a slightly strangled, slow, yet penetrating voice. "It was a long night. We were told to freshen up and wait. Dinner was brought to us in my rooms by the house elves. And then at midnight, he came."
In barely more than an entranced whisper, Harry said, "Voldemort."
Nodding, Draco spoke once more. "Crabbe, Goyle, and I were presented to him. He's....repulsive, Potter. And his power - I'd never felt anything like it."
"What happened?" There was an urgency in Harry's voice.
"Goyle....Crabbe and Goyle took the Dark Mark. They are now to be spies at Hogwarts. And then Voldemort turned to me.
He told me to hold out my arm, he told me it would hurt only a little, he told me I would be honored one day for going through with the blasted thing. If only I would serve him, body and soul, he said.
I wouldn't. I'm no one's slave boy. Serving a thing like Voldemort is below the dignity of a Malfoy. I withdrew my arm. And then I told him everything I thought he was, all in the colorful Malfoy vocabulary. Ending with Mudblood."
Sheer amazement was all that Harry could register at the moment. Malfoy? Deny Voldemort? *And call him a Mudblood to his face....*
Draco heaved a sigh. "You probably wouldn't know how painful the Cruciatus it. But that wasn't all they used. I never knew Muggle weaponry worked that well." He gave a hollow laugh. "Lucius dragged me half-conscious back to my rooms, telling me that I had twenty-four hours to rethink my position before the Dark Lord returned and asked for my arm again - or whatever else he'd take as compensation for my foolishness.
When the pain began to clear a little, or when it began to numb ( I don't remember which), I hauled arse and got out of there as soon as possible."
"How'd you manage that? I mean, if you were so weak? And," Harry's face softened, "I do know about the Cruciatus. You not the only one Voldemort's used for a play toy."
"So, you know Cruciatus? Heh, there goes the record I thought I held for being the first to be tortured by Voldemort. Oh well. You see, my godfather figured something like this would happen. He gave me a Portkey, one that was linked to his ki and would take me directly to him the minute I activated the spell. I packed all the stuff I needed and got the hell away from the Manor."
"Who's your godfather?"
Chuckling amusedly despite the tense atmosphere, Draco said, "You really need to ask?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's Snape, isn't it? I - no, *everyone* should have known *that*. No wonder he favors you so much."
Draco allowed himself a small, nostalgic smile. "It's good to be popular with Severus," he said, ignoring the gagging sounds that Harry was making. "I get extra points for my House that I don't need to work for, and when I have a headache, I get Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Works for me."
The raven head bowed and muttered, "And I thought I was the only one who had an enemy godfather."
"Huh?" The blonde was slightly perplexed. "You have a godfather? Why don't you live with him instead of these?" He waved a hand at the walls of the room, indicating the snoring Dursleys.
Harry was surprised. "I thought you knew already! In Third Year...," he trailed off.
Malfoy still hadn't caught on, so Harry finished, "Sirius Black. He was my father's best friend. And thanks to *Wormtail*"- he spat out the name like it was Skele-gro - "he's an innocent convicted murderer. The only good it does me is that the Dursleys are dead frightened of him. All I have to do is mention the word `godfather`, and they run into the cracks of the walls like the rats they are."
"Why don't you use it all the time, then? You wouldn't be their little kitchen wench scrubbing like some pining Cinderella anymore."
Glancing away, Harry said, "It gives me something to do, to take my mind off of...other things.
Harry's tone was not one that said to deepen the subject, so Draco only said, "I only knew he'd been your parents' Secret Keeper. I didn't know how he was related to you."
Looking down at the hands he was twisting in his lap, he said, "No one is supposed to know I'm here, Potter. When you write back to the Weasel, tell him nothing about me. Those were Dumbledore's orders, according to Severus."
Harry nodded silently, and then picked up his broom and the disturbing letter as he stood. Hedwig, having perched on the knob of the bedstead, fluttered down and out the window.
At the window, he paused, and let his impulse take over. "Malfoy, what are we? You and I, I mean..."
Draco felt that lurch again as he looked up across the room into Harry's face, shadowed in the night's embrace, eyes unusually glittering, shadows dancing across his face.
"I don't know, Potter." He stretched languorously, and rolled over, back facing Harry, not watching as Gryffindor's Beloved swept out into the darkness and to his own room. He didn't need to look, because that one prior glance would forever be engraved in his memory.
**
Sitting cross-legged on his still-made-up bed, Harry reopened the letter to read. No longer in the presence of the enigmatic Malfoy, he allowed what tears there were to prick his eyes.
Hey mate!
I'm kinda worried - you never take this long to write unless the Muggles put bars on your window. Are you sure you're OK? Listen, if you every need to talk, I'm sure Hedwig wouldn't mind. Nor would Pig, but I don't trust him. Mione said the same thing when I owled her. Talking, that is, not Pig.
I don't want to leave this hanging over your head, but now for bad news. Voldemort's started again already. Fudge refuses to admit it, but photos don't lie. You probably didn't hear because you don't get the Prophet, but a Muggle family and their wizard son got hit last night. I wish I could tell you this to your face, but mate, Justin Finch-Fletchey is gone. His entire Muggle family, dead. Like I said, Fudge claims that the Muggle explanation of some sort of fireworks going off is true, but there were photos taken of the Dark Mark in the sky. Mum went hysterical, and Ginny's in a pretty bad state. Dad and Perce haven't come home from work, either. It's got everyone in a right flap, I can tell you. I just hope you're OK. Dumbledore is worried too - as soon as we found out, mum owled him to see if we could get you, but old Dumbledore flatly refused, saying you would be safer staying at the Muggles' for the rest of the summer. He said that yours wasn't the only life at stake. Probably just meant that he didn't want to put us in danger and make us Weasleys more of a target. Malfoy's right sometimes, the red hair is a bit of a give away.
Send Hedwig back ASAP. Mum's got a food package all ready, and it's way too big for Pig. Harry, I'm always here, you know. The Burrow is just a couple of grates away by Floo Powder if you need us.
Ron
PS Fred and George told me to say "Thanks" again. What did you do this time? They won't tell me...
Harry folded up the letter carefully. It hurt slightly to know that he wasn't allowed to leave the Dursleys' all summer, but it hurt less now that...he and Draco had talked. And at least owls were still allowed. Clambering over the side of the bed, Harry dove underneath and wrenched up the loose floorboard, laying the letter inside.
Straightening up, he slouched over to his desk and began to write back to Ron.
`Lo, Ron
Thanks for the heads-up. We heard about the attack - it was on the Muggle news. We figured it was a wizard who got it, judging by the Dark Mark, but we didn't know who it could be. I wish I could send condolences, but Justin was Muggle-born, and I'm pretty positive any relatives wouldn't know what to do if a snowy owl turned up with a card. I just can't believe this is all really happening. It's hard for me. And if Voldemort keeps this up, we're going to have a tough time next year. Not just you, me, and Mione.
Harry wanted to add Malfoy - the boy most certainly would find returning to the Slytherin Common Room a rough experience - but he'd sworn to secrecy. Twirling the quill between his fingers, he thought of what to say next. Nothing came to him. There was really nothing to tell Ron, really nothing he could tell Ron, not just about Malfoy, but about other things as well. Like the way he was feeling recently, how hopeless everything was looking.
Sighing, Harry finished.
Tell your mum thanks for the food - we're still holding to The Diet down here. And tell Fred and George that if they don't stop thanking me, I'm shoving a Bludger down each of their throats. Don't worry about me, I'm perfectly safe.
Harry
Perfectly safe...was flying nightly with Malfoy and getting into fist fights with the boy considered perfectly safe? Gingerly he poked at his still swollen lip. *Yes, there'll be a lot of explaining in* - Harry glanced at the clock, 4:27AM - *an hour and thirty three minutes.*
He didn't realize the questions that would arise from referring to himself as "we" in description of the Muggle news.
**
When Draco had finally dragged himself into the kitchen around ten that morning with a black eye, there had been an immediate uproar as the Dursleys, Aunt Petunia in the lead, Dudley waddling in the rear, rushed to his side. Ice was provided faster than you could say, "Drakie-darling", and the blonde spent most of the day lounging on the couch, changing channels while flicking his wrist and holding an icepack to his face.
He continuously told the Dursleys that he'd tripped that morning and hit his face on the bedpost, and Uncle Vernon immediately suggested removing the offending post with a number of handy tools. Luckily for the bedpost, Draco wasn't very angry at it, and insisted it was no cause for concern.
No one had said anything about Harry's lip.
Harry kept all these things bottle up inside as he worked tirelessly to make sure Draco was comfortable and the pillows were soft enough, that Draco had fresh ice, that Draco had enough food, that Draco wasn't thirsty...
The Dursleys had retired early today, saying that taking care of Draco had left all of them sleepy. Aunt Petunia herself kissed Draco in a motherly fashion, brushing the blonde silk back from his forehead. It was her great luck that she had had her eyes closed, for she missed the expression on Draco's face that not even she could mistake for a look of tender adoration watered down by pain.
At the moment, the boys sat facing each other once again by the banks of the pool. Their brooms lay forgotten some feet away, along with a refilled fruit basket.
"So, ready to try again?" Malfoy asked casually. The light of the moon occasionally played across his face, flashing now and then as the building clouds wafted over the crescent. It was cooler tonight, and the haze around the moon spoke of impending rain.
Hesitantly, Harry recalled what he had done the previous night. "I....I tried again last night. I brought the light out of myself. Held it in my hands," he finished awkwardly.
Draco stared. "You did what?!"
Obviously, Harry's answer wasn't a normal one. *How come everyone in the wizarding world knows my name, and I know nothing about the wizarding world?* This was quite clearly another one of those moments of ignorance. As Draco was still looking incredulous, Harry completely gave up.
"Look, my name is Harry James Potter. And whether I like it or not, that means I do a lot of things that don't happen every day. You can close your mouth, or risk flies living in it and laying their eggs and their eggs hatching and lots of little baby flies living in your mouth and them laying eggs and -"
"I get the point, Potter. No, it's NOT normal." He paused in thought and then asked, "Do you think you can do it again? Show me, I mean."
Drawing in a deep breath, Harry replied, "Give me a minute, Malfoy. I don't know if it'll work again, though."
Draco watched tensely as Harry closed his eyes in his attempt at relaxation. Minutes stretched on, neither teen moving, one breathing in rhythm, the other's breathing coming in ragged gasps with anticipation.
It happened suddenly.
Harry moved, his right hand raising slightly, a finger outstretching, and it was Draco's turn to draw in a deep breath. Around the finger, a tendril of silver light appeard, and then another. Harry's eyes had not yet opened, but his hand seemed to know exactly what to do. It clenched into a fist around the crackling threads of power, and drew it close to Harry's lap. Once there, the hand relaxed, the palm opened, and the light gently waved, standing on end in the raven haired boy's hand.
Slowly, Harry's eyes opened, the silver threads throwing his eyes into beautiful relief. Draco's breathing hitched more so, though he chose to ignore the cause of it. Instead, he focused on the light now arching back and forth between Harry's open palms as the boy played with his power as if it were some Muggle slinky. *Playing* with his *power*. As he gazed, he noticed a red light beginning to gather around Harry's hands. This - this energy radiating from Harry's body!!
"Potter, stop! You'll destroy the clearing and us if you don't put that away!" he shouted in a panicked voice.
Harry looked up, bewildered, but the light raced back into his hands, leaving the two in darkness. "Why? What did I do?"
Draco slumped backwards onto the grass, half in shock at watch he'd just seen, half in relief that the experience was over. He then began to laugh.
It wasn't the sneering laugh that Harry was used to, nor was it the same laugh that Harry had heard the first night when Draco had stolen his dry clothes.
This laugh was beautiful, melodic, falling pleasantly on Harry's ear. Entrancing, even. It rang of all the things that the well of red and silver power within him did.
It was a laugh of hope.
Cautiously, Harry crawled forward, leaning over Malfoy until he could see the other boy's face clearly. But it wasn't Malfoy he saw in the sparkling eyes. It was some other boy, not one that had tormented him for four years. It was not the boy that had punched him in the lip yesterday. It was not the boy who had angrily blamed all of his suffering on Harry.
Draco looked up at Harry and said, "No wonder Voldemort still can't kill you. How many times has he tried already? That was amazing, Potter." He fell back into laughing, strands escaping from his hair and spreading over his face, which was pink from laughing.
A slight smile graced Harry's lips. "Guess it's not just luck after all." Wistfully, he reached a hand down and brushed the hair off of Draco's face. Draco just laughed harder.
"Don't go all sweet on me, Potter," he warned, a hand reaching up to playfully punch Harry's cheek.
But the hand was not removed. It couldn't be, for Harry had placed one of his own on top. "No, I won't, Malfoy. I'd just like to say that it's all because I actually had a good teacher."
And laughing himself, he rested his head on Malfoy's chest. "I'm totally worn out. That's pretty hard stuff, all that ki."
"I'm not surprised. I've never heard of anyone who could completely take ki from within their own body and give it physical form, but," Chuckling, he said teasingly, "you are the great Harry Potter, after all."
Harry didn't protest, but rather raised his head, letting his chin alone rest on Draco's chest as he gazed into his couch's silver orbs. "I didn't know you could laugh, Malfoy."
"There's a lot about me you don't know Potter, and a lot you wouldn't care to know." Draco smirked, raising a delicate eyebrow in a manner that just dared Harry to ask.
Harry did indeed take the bait. He repeated, "Would you care to enlighten me any time soon?" Both of Harry's eyebrows lifted questioningly, pleadingly.
"Maybe. If you be a good Cinderella and fetch me a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, because I'm going to need it after all that you did tonight."
Harry didn't know what made him do it. Maybe it was just Malfoy's voice, just his laugh, just the way his lips parted perfectly with that laugh.
Draco didn't close his eyes right away, preferring to stare into the long blacks lashes framing Harry's closed eyes. This feeling...it wasn't like Pansy's lips at all. He could tell Harry had never kissed before, and the innocence of the thing made Draco smile against Harry's lips. Testing, Draco flicked out his tongue, tasting the salt on Harry's lips, still slightly swollen from last night's escapade.
Panicking at the contact, Harry pulled away, face going extremely red. His eyes were open now, wide, embarrassed, but shining like a cat's at night. "I....I'm so-sorry."
Malfoy just smirked again. Harry stared up as Draco casually picked himself off of the ground, dusting grass and dirt off his sweater, before offering a hand to the shell-shocked Harry.
"My name is Draco Malfoy. I'll be living with you this summer, and I'm sure you won't mind having a Pureblood wizard of impeccable pedigree living in your lowly Muggle home."
Realization hit Harry like a sack of cauldron cakes, but he knew how to keep his head when there was a need for quick thinking.
Stretching out a hand, he said in a non-chalant voice, "I'm Harry Potter. Don't mind the scar, it just adds to my dashing good looks."
Laughing, the odd pair, one of light, one of dark, took their brooms in hand and began a game of tag on their brooms.
~~
Ok, the ending - are they out of character? Ahhhh!!
Okay, tomorrow I have to go to the doctor's about my appendicits, so I don't know when I'll be able to write chapter eight.
And because I managed to find the time to write two chapters in one day, thanks ahead of time to all reviewers.
Now, next chapter...the morning after the barriers fall, some more ki, and I think a visit to Mrs. Figg's...I'll see what my stomach stops killing me.
Daisuki, minna!! Oyasumi nasai!!
Mute, Harry nodded and settled himself on the rug at the side of Draco's bed.
Draco resigned himself to explaining his tale, and so began. "I'm here," Draco began, carefully enunciating each word, "because I-
A low hoot cut him off as Hedwig came flying into the room, a large note tied to her leg. The owl landed awkwardly on Harry's shoulder, slightly off- balance. Her master came to her rescue at once, swiftly removing her burden.
Tearing off the seal, the elated Potter boy called joyously, "It's from Ron!"
Looking less than enthusiastic was an understatement on Draco's part. "Ah, yes, perfect timing, Weasel."
Harry shot him a nasty look before reading. Draco sat on his bed, head in his hands as he listened to the sound of paper rustling. Suddenly -
"Oh, God..."
Draco looked up, curious. "What? Did the Weasleys' house collapse finally or something?"
Harry's over-bright eyes connected with Draco's, and this time he had no angry retort for the blonde's comment. "Remember that attack? From the news, I mean?"
Draco groaned and went back to massaging his temples. "Who was it this time? Granger?"
Harry scowled at what Draco's hopeful tone was implying, but he lowered his voice gravely. "The Finch-Fletchleys'."
Draco was slightly confused. "You mean that Hufflepuff boy who was Petrified in Second Year?"
Harry turned away and stared out the window. "Yes."
"It didn't know you were friends with him. You're not exactly popular in Hufflepuff House, after all. Not after this last year. You've also got Ravenclaw against you. And Slytherin," he added as an afterthought.
"You have no tact sometimes, did you know that?" Harry quipped, the pain in his chest now screaming to be released in another fight.
"Sorry," came his soft reply. Harry's head whipped around, and he stared incredulously at the blonde.
"What is wrong with you lately, Malfoy? You half act like a friend; you call me `Harry`; you try to teach me about something; you say `sorry`...." His voice took on a manic quality as it went on. Harry wanted to add *you kissed me* to the list, but it didn't seem like a good moment to bring that harsh memory up again.
Draco responded with anger. "What's wrong with me, Potter? THIS is what's wrong with me!" He twisted his arm around and pointed at his back. "And if it wasn't for *you* and *Voldemort*, then this wouldn't have happened!!"
"I don't even know what you're blaming me for - I don't know what I did! Would you care to enlighten me any time soon?" Harry shot back furiously.
This time, Draco's head spun away. He was fighting with himself, wondering if telling Potter was the right thing to do.
After an eternity, the Slytherin whispered, "I told you. You're not the only one who wouldn't bow to the Dark Lord."
Harry's jaw fell open slightly before he egged Draco on. "You mean, you actually turned the Dark Lord down? Only you and your pride, Malfoy."
"That's right, Potter, *pride*. The pride of being a Pureblood, a Malfoy, one of the most prestigious families in European wizarding history...the pride of being my own person."
The boy sitting on the rug shook his head, mouthing wordlessly, and so Draco continued.
"When my father found Crabbe, Goyle, and I, looking worse for wear outside your compartment on the train, he was not pleased. After reviving us to a lecture, he took us all to the Manor. This was unusual - he never takes Crabbe and Goyle home with us."
He paused, and then went on in a slightly strangled, slow, yet penetrating voice. "It was a long night. We were told to freshen up and wait. Dinner was brought to us in my rooms by the house elves. And then at midnight, he came."
In barely more than an entranced whisper, Harry said, "Voldemort."
Nodding, Draco spoke once more. "Crabbe, Goyle, and I were presented to him. He's....repulsive, Potter. And his power - I'd never felt anything like it."
"What happened?" There was an urgency in Harry's voice.
"Goyle....Crabbe and Goyle took the Dark Mark. They are now to be spies at Hogwarts. And then Voldemort turned to me.
He told me to hold out my arm, he told me it would hurt only a little, he told me I would be honored one day for going through with the blasted thing. If only I would serve him, body and soul, he said.
I wouldn't. I'm no one's slave boy. Serving a thing like Voldemort is below the dignity of a Malfoy. I withdrew my arm. And then I told him everything I thought he was, all in the colorful Malfoy vocabulary. Ending with Mudblood."
Sheer amazement was all that Harry could register at the moment. Malfoy? Deny Voldemort? *And call him a Mudblood to his face....*
Draco heaved a sigh. "You probably wouldn't know how painful the Cruciatus it. But that wasn't all they used. I never knew Muggle weaponry worked that well." He gave a hollow laugh. "Lucius dragged me half-conscious back to my rooms, telling me that I had twenty-four hours to rethink my position before the Dark Lord returned and asked for my arm again - or whatever else he'd take as compensation for my foolishness.
When the pain began to clear a little, or when it began to numb ( I don't remember which), I hauled arse and got out of there as soon as possible."
"How'd you manage that? I mean, if you were so weak? And," Harry's face softened, "I do know about the Cruciatus. You not the only one Voldemort's used for a play toy."
"So, you know Cruciatus? Heh, there goes the record I thought I held for being the first to be tortured by Voldemort. Oh well. You see, my godfather figured something like this would happen. He gave me a Portkey, one that was linked to his ki and would take me directly to him the minute I activated the spell. I packed all the stuff I needed and got the hell away from the Manor."
"Who's your godfather?"
Chuckling amusedly despite the tense atmosphere, Draco said, "You really need to ask?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's Snape, isn't it? I - no, *everyone* should have known *that*. No wonder he favors you so much."
Draco allowed himself a small, nostalgic smile. "It's good to be popular with Severus," he said, ignoring the gagging sounds that Harry was making. "I get extra points for my House that I don't need to work for, and when I have a headache, I get Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Works for me."
The raven head bowed and muttered, "And I thought I was the only one who had an enemy godfather."
"Huh?" The blonde was slightly perplexed. "You have a godfather? Why don't you live with him instead of these?" He waved a hand at the walls of the room, indicating the snoring Dursleys.
Harry was surprised. "I thought you knew already! In Third Year...," he trailed off.
Malfoy still hadn't caught on, so Harry finished, "Sirius Black. He was my father's best friend. And thanks to *Wormtail*"- he spat out the name like it was Skele-gro - "he's an innocent convicted murderer. The only good it does me is that the Dursleys are dead frightened of him. All I have to do is mention the word `godfather`, and they run into the cracks of the walls like the rats they are."
"Why don't you use it all the time, then? You wouldn't be their little kitchen wench scrubbing like some pining Cinderella anymore."
Glancing away, Harry said, "It gives me something to do, to take my mind off of...other things.
Harry's tone was not one that said to deepen the subject, so Draco only said, "I only knew he'd been your parents' Secret Keeper. I didn't know how he was related to you."
Looking down at the hands he was twisting in his lap, he said, "No one is supposed to know I'm here, Potter. When you write back to the Weasel, tell him nothing about me. Those were Dumbledore's orders, according to Severus."
Harry nodded silently, and then picked up his broom and the disturbing letter as he stood. Hedwig, having perched on the knob of the bedstead, fluttered down and out the window.
At the window, he paused, and let his impulse take over. "Malfoy, what are we? You and I, I mean..."
Draco felt that lurch again as he looked up across the room into Harry's face, shadowed in the night's embrace, eyes unusually glittering, shadows dancing across his face.
"I don't know, Potter." He stretched languorously, and rolled over, back facing Harry, not watching as Gryffindor's Beloved swept out into the darkness and to his own room. He didn't need to look, because that one prior glance would forever be engraved in his memory.
**
Sitting cross-legged on his still-made-up bed, Harry reopened the letter to read. No longer in the presence of the enigmatic Malfoy, he allowed what tears there were to prick his eyes.
Hey mate!
I'm kinda worried - you never take this long to write unless the Muggles put bars on your window. Are you sure you're OK? Listen, if you every need to talk, I'm sure Hedwig wouldn't mind. Nor would Pig, but I don't trust him. Mione said the same thing when I owled her. Talking, that is, not Pig.
I don't want to leave this hanging over your head, but now for bad news. Voldemort's started again already. Fudge refuses to admit it, but photos don't lie. You probably didn't hear because you don't get the Prophet, but a Muggle family and their wizard son got hit last night. I wish I could tell you this to your face, but mate, Justin Finch-Fletchey is gone. His entire Muggle family, dead. Like I said, Fudge claims that the Muggle explanation of some sort of fireworks going off is true, but there were photos taken of the Dark Mark in the sky. Mum went hysterical, and Ginny's in a pretty bad state. Dad and Perce haven't come home from work, either. It's got everyone in a right flap, I can tell you. I just hope you're OK. Dumbledore is worried too - as soon as we found out, mum owled him to see if we could get you, but old Dumbledore flatly refused, saying you would be safer staying at the Muggles' for the rest of the summer. He said that yours wasn't the only life at stake. Probably just meant that he didn't want to put us in danger and make us Weasleys more of a target. Malfoy's right sometimes, the red hair is a bit of a give away.
Send Hedwig back ASAP. Mum's got a food package all ready, and it's way too big for Pig. Harry, I'm always here, you know. The Burrow is just a couple of grates away by Floo Powder if you need us.
Ron
PS Fred and George told me to say "Thanks" again. What did you do this time? They won't tell me...
Harry folded up the letter carefully. It hurt slightly to know that he wasn't allowed to leave the Dursleys' all summer, but it hurt less now that...he and Draco had talked. And at least owls were still allowed. Clambering over the side of the bed, Harry dove underneath and wrenched up the loose floorboard, laying the letter inside.
Straightening up, he slouched over to his desk and began to write back to Ron.
`Lo, Ron
Thanks for the heads-up. We heard about the attack - it was on the Muggle news. We figured it was a wizard who got it, judging by the Dark Mark, but we didn't know who it could be. I wish I could send condolences, but Justin was Muggle-born, and I'm pretty positive any relatives wouldn't know what to do if a snowy owl turned up with a card. I just can't believe this is all really happening. It's hard for me. And if Voldemort keeps this up, we're going to have a tough time next year. Not just you, me, and Mione.
Harry wanted to add Malfoy - the boy most certainly would find returning to the Slytherin Common Room a rough experience - but he'd sworn to secrecy. Twirling the quill between his fingers, he thought of what to say next. Nothing came to him. There was really nothing to tell Ron, really nothing he could tell Ron, not just about Malfoy, but about other things as well. Like the way he was feeling recently, how hopeless everything was looking.
Sighing, Harry finished.
Tell your mum thanks for the food - we're still holding to The Diet down here. And tell Fred and George that if they don't stop thanking me, I'm shoving a Bludger down each of their throats. Don't worry about me, I'm perfectly safe.
Harry
Perfectly safe...was flying nightly with Malfoy and getting into fist fights with the boy considered perfectly safe? Gingerly he poked at his still swollen lip. *Yes, there'll be a lot of explaining in* - Harry glanced at the clock, 4:27AM - *an hour and thirty three minutes.*
He didn't realize the questions that would arise from referring to himself as "we" in description of the Muggle news.
**
When Draco had finally dragged himself into the kitchen around ten that morning with a black eye, there had been an immediate uproar as the Dursleys, Aunt Petunia in the lead, Dudley waddling in the rear, rushed to his side. Ice was provided faster than you could say, "Drakie-darling", and the blonde spent most of the day lounging on the couch, changing channels while flicking his wrist and holding an icepack to his face.
He continuously told the Dursleys that he'd tripped that morning and hit his face on the bedpost, and Uncle Vernon immediately suggested removing the offending post with a number of handy tools. Luckily for the bedpost, Draco wasn't very angry at it, and insisted it was no cause for concern.
No one had said anything about Harry's lip.
Harry kept all these things bottle up inside as he worked tirelessly to make sure Draco was comfortable and the pillows were soft enough, that Draco had fresh ice, that Draco had enough food, that Draco wasn't thirsty...
The Dursleys had retired early today, saying that taking care of Draco had left all of them sleepy. Aunt Petunia herself kissed Draco in a motherly fashion, brushing the blonde silk back from his forehead. It was her great luck that she had had her eyes closed, for she missed the expression on Draco's face that not even she could mistake for a look of tender adoration watered down by pain.
At the moment, the boys sat facing each other once again by the banks of the pool. Their brooms lay forgotten some feet away, along with a refilled fruit basket.
"So, ready to try again?" Malfoy asked casually. The light of the moon occasionally played across his face, flashing now and then as the building clouds wafted over the crescent. It was cooler tonight, and the haze around the moon spoke of impending rain.
Hesitantly, Harry recalled what he had done the previous night. "I....I tried again last night. I brought the light out of myself. Held it in my hands," he finished awkwardly.
Draco stared. "You did what?!"
Obviously, Harry's answer wasn't a normal one. *How come everyone in the wizarding world knows my name, and I know nothing about the wizarding world?* This was quite clearly another one of those moments of ignorance. As Draco was still looking incredulous, Harry completely gave up.
"Look, my name is Harry James Potter. And whether I like it or not, that means I do a lot of things that don't happen every day. You can close your mouth, or risk flies living in it and laying their eggs and their eggs hatching and lots of little baby flies living in your mouth and them laying eggs and -"
"I get the point, Potter. No, it's NOT normal." He paused in thought and then asked, "Do you think you can do it again? Show me, I mean."
Drawing in a deep breath, Harry replied, "Give me a minute, Malfoy. I don't know if it'll work again, though."
Draco watched tensely as Harry closed his eyes in his attempt at relaxation. Minutes stretched on, neither teen moving, one breathing in rhythm, the other's breathing coming in ragged gasps with anticipation.
It happened suddenly.
Harry moved, his right hand raising slightly, a finger outstretching, and it was Draco's turn to draw in a deep breath. Around the finger, a tendril of silver light appeard, and then another. Harry's eyes had not yet opened, but his hand seemed to know exactly what to do. It clenched into a fist around the crackling threads of power, and drew it close to Harry's lap. Once there, the hand relaxed, the palm opened, and the light gently waved, standing on end in the raven haired boy's hand.
Slowly, Harry's eyes opened, the silver threads throwing his eyes into beautiful relief. Draco's breathing hitched more so, though he chose to ignore the cause of it. Instead, he focused on the light now arching back and forth between Harry's open palms as the boy played with his power as if it were some Muggle slinky. *Playing* with his *power*. As he gazed, he noticed a red light beginning to gather around Harry's hands. This - this energy radiating from Harry's body!!
"Potter, stop! You'll destroy the clearing and us if you don't put that away!" he shouted in a panicked voice.
Harry looked up, bewildered, but the light raced back into his hands, leaving the two in darkness. "Why? What did I do?"
Draco slumped backwards onto the grass, half in shock at watch he'd just seen, half in relief that the experience was over. He then began to laugh.
It wasn't the sneering laugh that Harry was used to, nor was it the same laugh that Harry had heard the first night when Draco had stolen his dry clothes.
This laugh was beautiful, melodic, falling pleasantly on Harry's ear. Entrancing, even. It rang of all the things that the well of red and silver power within him did.
It was a laugh of hope.
Cautiously, Harry crawled forward, leaning over Malfoy until he could see the other boy's face clearly. But it wasn't Malfoy he saw in the sparkling eyes. It was some other boy, not one that had tormented him for four years. It was not the boy that had punched him in the lip yesterday. It was not the boy who had angrily blamed all of his suffering on Harry.
Draco looked up at Harry and said, "No wonder Voldemort still can't kill you. How many times has he tried already? That was amazing, Potter." He fell back into laughing, strands escaping from his hair and spreading over his face, which was pink from laughing.
A slight smile graced Harry's lips. "Guess it's not just luck after all." Wistfully, he reached a hand down and brushed the hair off of Draco's face. Draco just laughed harder.
"Don't go all sweet on me, Potter," he warned, a hand reaching up to playfully punch Harry's cheek.
But the hand was not removed. It couldn't be, for Harry had placed one of his own on top. "No, I won't, Malfoy. I'd just like to say that it's all because I actually had a good teacher."
And laughing himself, he rested his head on Malfoy's chest. "I'm totally worn out. That's pretty hard stuff, all that ki."
"I'm not surprised. I've never heard of anyone who could completely take ki from within their own body and give it physical form, but," Chuckling, he said teasingly, "you are the great Harry Potter, after all."
Harry didn't protest, but rather raised his head, letting his chin alone rest on Draco's chest as he gazed into his couch's silver orbs. "I didn't know you could laugh, Malfoy."
"There's a lot about me you don't know Potter, and a lot you wouldn't care to know." Draco smirked, raising a delicate eyebrow in a manner that just dared Harry to ask.
Harry did indeed take the bait. He repeated, "Would you care to enlighten me any time soon?" Both of Harry's eyebrows lifted questioningly, pleadingly.
"Maybe. If you be a good Cinderella and fetch me a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, because I'm going to need it after all that you did tonight."
Harry didn't know what made him do it. Maybe it was just Malfoy's voice, just his laugh, just the way his lips parted perfectly with that laugh.
Draco didn't close his eyes right away, preferring to stare into the long blacks lashes framing Harry's closed eyes. This feeling...it wasn't like Pansy's lips at all. He could tell Harry had never kissed before, and the innocence of the thing made Draco smile against Harry's lips. Testing, Draco flicked out his tongue, tasting the salt on Harry's lips, still slightly swollen from last night's escapade.
Panicking at the contact, Harry pulled away, face going extremely red. His eyes were open now, wide, embarrassed, but shining like a cat's at night. "I....I'm so-sorry."
Malfoy just smirked again. Harry stared up as Draco casually picked himself off of the ground, dusting grass and dirt off his sweater, before offering a hand to the shell-shocked Harry.
"My name is Draco Malfoy. I'll be living with you this summer, and I'm sure you won't mind having a Pureblood wizard of impeccable pedigree living in your lowly Muggle home."
Realization hit Harry like a sack of cauldron cakes, but he knew how to keep his head when there was a need for quick thinking.
Stretching out a hand, he said in a non-chalant voice, "I'm Harry Potter. Don't mind the scar, it just adds to my dashing good looks."
Laughing, the odd pair, one of light, one of dark, took their brooms in hand and began a game of tag on their brooms.
~~
Ok, the ending - are they out of character? Ahhhh!!
Okay, tomorrow I have to go to the doctor's about my appendicits, so I don't know when I'll be able to write chapter eight.
And because I managed to find the time to write two chapters in one day, thanks ahead of time to all reviewers.
Now, next chapter...the morning after the barriers fall, some more ki, and I think a visit to Mrs. Figg's...I'll see what my stomach stops killing me.
Daisuki, minna!! Oyasumi nasai!!