Thanks this week go to Jamie, SheWolfe7, sak, Falafel and V-Gin. I'm glad you like this fic, stick with it, there's still a long way to go! Hopefully new chapters should be arriving more frequently as of now.
*
His room was beautiful, like the rest of the house. He strode to the window, his feet slipping slightly on the marble floor, and pulled back the rich, red, velvet curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, highlighting the ornately carved furniture, and one glance out of the window revealed gardens that were just as stunning as the rest of the house.
A serving girl entered, bowing before him, and offering him another glass of the wonderful nectar he had tasted the previous night. He thanked the serving girl, studying the curves of her body that were all too evident beneath her simple, white tunic, and briefly considered asking her to stay.
An owl appeared at the window, a note attached to its leg. He took the note and thanked the owl, which ruffled its feathers and fluttered off again. The note read,
Your presence is requested in the drawing room in ten minutes. My manservant will show you the way.
Pluto.
He smiled, crumpled up the note, and finished his drink. He took one deep breath of the glorious, fresh spring air before hurriedly dressing. He was going to enjoy it here, he was sure of it.
*
It was a few weeks later. Most of Harry's classes were passing in a daze and, when he wasn't taking the DA classes or rushing through his homework, he found himself in the Room of Requirement with Ron and Hermione, looking up the various properties of the Bloodstones. He had been loath to involve them, at first, but they had cornered him after one Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson to find out what the hell was going on and he, somewhat reluctantly, told them.
The reason he'd been unwilling to involve them at first was that he felt that this was something he had to do himself but, as time wore on, he was grateful for their help – there was a lot of research to do, and they had only covered a miniscule amount of ground.
"There's nothing new in this one," muttered Ron, throwing the book down irritably and rubbing his eyes.
"This one's full of rubbish," moaned Hermione, also closing her book. She yawned, got up and stretched. "I say we call it a night. We're all tired, and we've still got that essay to do for Lupin."
"It's not due in until Halloween, Hermione!" groaned Ron.
"And that's next week," she reminded him. "Come on. You too, Harry," she ordered. Ron rolled his eyes. It was widely acknowledged that Hermione would some day make a great teacher, as no student would be able to resist her constant nagging – not that anyone repeated this within earshot, of course.
"Hang on," Harry muttered. "I've found something interesting. I'll catch you up in a minute."
"Last time you said that you stayed up here half the night and missed your Occlumency class!"
"I promise I'll be back before midnight, Hermione," Harry said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Go on, I'll meet you in the common room once I've finished this." He pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of his bag, and began to take notes.
"If only you approached your homework with the same enthusiasm, you might one day catch up with me," sighed Hermione, shaking her head. "Come on, Ron, we know when we're not wanted." Ron and Hermione left the room, the door clicking shut softly behind them.
Harry continued to scribble notes for a few moments then, without looking up, said, "It's ok. You can come out now." There was a movement, and then Draco Malfoy was sat in the chair opposite him, his blond hair glowing in the firelight, folding up an invisibility cloak.
"How did you know I was here?" he asked softly. Harry smiled, still not looking up from his book.
"You sneezed when Ron dropped his book. What do you want, Malfoy?" Malfoy shrugged.
"You've been spending a lot of time up here lately. I wanted to know why."
"So you've been following me now?" Harry snorted. "Tell me, why is what I do in my spare time so interesting? Or have you been sent to spy on me?"
"I'm not spying. I have no reason to."
"No reason?" Harry laughed. "Come off it, Malfoy, your daddy's chummy with Voldemort. I bet he'd give anything to know what I'm up to since we're sworn enemies and all." Malfoy shrugged again, and turned his gaze towards the flames.
"Well, a man's got to have somewhere where he can be by himself, hasn't he? And he can't do that if that place is continually crowded. I just wanted to know why I couldn't get some peace."
"So I need your permission to use this room now?" Harry laughed. "Like that's going to happen. I don't need anything from you, Malfoy." He gathered up his book, quill and parchment and made to leave.
"Wait!" pleaded Malfoy. Harry paused, one hand on the door handle, and raised one eyebrow questioningly.
"I'm giving you some peace. That's what you want, isn't it?"
"It's rare for a Potter to give a Malfoy anything he wants," Malfoy muttered, reaching out and taking one of the books from the shelves. "Sipstrassi? Doing some extra work for Lupin? Bit keen, aren't you?" he sneered.
"Whatever. I'm in no mood to fight with you." Harry turned his back on the blond boy again.
"I could help you," whispered Malfoy. Harry rounded on him again, advancing towards Malfoy's chair.
"I don't need your help, Malfoy!" he hissed. "I don't want anything to do with anyone who's the spawn of one of Voldemort's trusted Death Eaters. Did Daddy put you up to this?"
"You leave my father out of this, Potter!" Malfoy spat. His normally pale face was ghostly white, and his eyes were glinting dangerously.
"Or you'll what?" growled Harry, his face mere inches away from Malfoy's. "I'm not afraid of you or any of your bastard family." Malfoy glared at him and took a long, deep breath.
"Be careful what you say Potter. I'm not known for my patience." Harry laughed.
"Like father, like son. Wonder how he's enjoying Azkaban? But then I don't suppose the Dementors would have any effect on someone with no heart." The next moment Harry found himself sprawled on the floor, the wind knocked out of him. Malfoy had drawn his wand and blasted him backwards with surprising speed and was now standing over him, quivering with rage, his wand levelled at Harry's chest.
"I told you to shut up about my father," he said quietly. "I'd have thought that you, of all people. . . You've really got no idea. . ." Malfoy muttered an angry oath and turned back towards the fire. Harry scrambled to his feet, massaging his ribs.
"What the hell's your problem?" he gasped. "This is unusually hostile, even for you."
"My problem is arrogant, annoying bastards who'll not take a hint and shut the hell up." Malfoy's shoulders sagged and when he turned back to Harry, Harry was shocked to see tears in his eyes. "Just fuck off, Potter." Malfoy sank back into the chair and covered his eyes with a shaking hand.
"No." Harry sat opposite Malfoy and folded his arms across his chest. "What's the matter?"
"Like you'd care," muttered Malfoy, his hand still covering his eyes while he fought for control. Harry continued to sit, staring at the blond, and the silence between them deepened.