It was well past bedtime when Harry finally left the kitchens, but he managed to make it back to his dormitory without running into Filch.

Ron and Hermione were sitting in the common room, playing a game of chess. They both looked up when Harry entered.

"Harry! Where have you been?" Hermione asked him sounding annoyed.

Harry blinked at her. "Er… with Draco."

Ron glared at him. "I should have known you'd be with that prat."

"His name is Draco. And you ought to have known—I told you where I was going."

"But that was hours ago," Hermione protested. "Do you have any idea what time it is? What if you were caught? You're not supposed to be wandering around the school this late. Especially not with—Sirius Black—on the loose. It's not safe."

"I can take care of myself, Hermione," Harry snapped back.

"I thought you said that you'd be back in time for dinner," Ron said angrily.

Harry winced. He'd forgotten about that. "I'm sorry… we sort of got distracted."

"With what?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Nothing like that," Harry said quickly, flushing. "Just talking and stuff…"

"What sort of stuff?"

"Er… homework," Harry admitted.

Ron snorted. "Homework? You really expect me to believe that?"

"Yeah. It's the truth."

"So if you did your homework, where is it?"

Harry blinked and suddenly realized that he'd left it in Draco's room. Shit. "I forgot it in Draco's room. I guess I'll have to get it from him tomorrow…"

Ron gaped. "You were in his room?"

"Yeah, so?"

"But he's a Slytherin."

"Yeah? And?"

Ron just stared at him for a moment before stomping upstairs. Harry stared after him for a moment, then turned back to Hermione. She was looking at him with concern.

"What is it?"

She just shook her head and went up to her own dormitory. Harry closed his eyes. So much for making up with Ron.

For a moment, Harry wished Draco were here to give him support, but he knew Draco wouldn't be able to help him deal with Ron. He had to do that on his own.

Harry found Ron sitting on his bed, fuming. Neville was already asleep, but Dean and Seamus were talking to each other. The fell silent the moment the door opened, glaring at Harry. Harry made his way over to Ron.

"Ron?"

No response.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, wishing Dean and Seamus weren't watching him.

"Sorry? You're sorry you just blew me and Hermione off so you could spend time with Malfoy." Only Ron could say the name with quite that much distain. "You promised you'd be back before dinner. But you didn't even come to dinner. You were off screwing around with that prat."

"I didn't promise you anything. I said that I'd be back in time for dinner, but I wasn't. So I was wrong. I lied. So sue me."

Ron looked away. "Don't have the money to sue you," he muttered. "Malfoy does though. Tons of it."

Harry reached out to touch Ron's shoulder, but Ron flinched away. "I said I was sorry. It won't happen again. What more do you want?"

"Malfoy's head on a platter?"

Harry smiled slightly. "Well, I can't give that to you."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"You can defeat You-Know-Who as a baby, but you can't kill a snotty, 13 year old brat?" Harry was relieved to hear the slight hint of humor in his voice.

"Well, aside from the fact that murder is illegal and I'd probably be expelled from Hogwarts and sent off to Azkaban, I don't think I could ever just kill anyone in cold blood," he said. He also doubted he could ever kill anyone he loved as much as he loved Draco, but he was cautious or mentioning that to Ron.

Ron smiled. "I suppose that's true." Harry suppressed a sigh of relief. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night Ron."



When Draco returned to his dormitory, he found his roommates along with Pansy and Tracey all playing a card game on Theodore's bed. Ignoring them, he went over to his own bed to find his pajamas. Harry's homework was still there. Oh well, he could give it to Harry tomorrow.

"So Draco," Theodore began a little too casually. "Why weren't you at dinner?"

Draco shrugged, not turning around. "I wasn't hungry."

"You were with Harry," Blaise said matter-of-factly.

Draco nodded.

"You skipped dinner so you could spend time with that mudblood Gryffindor boyfriend of yours."

"And?" Draco asked, turning to face him.

Blaise glared. "And you're a Slytherin."

"And?" Draco repeated, determined not to react.

"You abandoned your own House for a Gryffindor."

Draco snorted at that. "I abandoned you? My House can't function if I so much as skip dinner?"

"No," Theodore said calmly. "But you chose a Gryffindor over a Slytherin. It's a matter of values."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do you want to be my boyfriend?"

"Draco—"

"Well?"

Theodore sighed. "No, but that's not—"

Draco turned to Blaise. "And you?"

"No," Blaise said in disgust. "But—"

"And you?" Draco asked turning to Vincent and Gregory. "Either of you fancy going out with me?" They both shook their heads and Draco turned back to Theodore and Blaise. "So, that takes care of all the Slytherin boys. Who else is going to be my boyfriend?"

"This has nothing to do with Harry being your boyfriend," Theodore protested.

"It doesn't? Let's see—you're upset because I had dinner with my boyfriend instead of with a Slytherin. How does this not involve Harry?"

"It's a matter of values."

"And my spending time with Harry means I don't value Slytherin?"

"You chose Harry over Slytherin," Blaise said softly.

"To eat dinner with."

"And how do we know you won't make the same choice about something that really matters?"

"I'm a Slytherin," Draco snapped.

"But if you had to choose, which would it be? Harry or Slytherin?" Blaise persisted.

Draco closed his eyes. "And when will I ever have to choose?"

"Does it matter? If you had to betray either Harry or Slytherin, which would it be?"

Slytherin or Harry?

"Well?" Theodore prompted.

"Slytherin," Draco spat, not sure whether that was really true. But it wasn't like he could say Harry right now. "I'd choose Slytherin."

"And why should we believe you?" Blaise asked.

Why indeed, when he himself wasn't sure he was telling the truth? But his own doubts weren't the issue here. Maintaining his place in Slytherin in was. And so he fell back on the standard Slytherin answer: "Because I'm a Slytherin."

"But how do we know you won't betray us?"

"How do we know you won't betray us?" Draco returned.

"I have never gone out with a Gryffindor," Blaise pointed out.

"No, you haven't," Draco agreed.

"So why should we believe you?"

"Because I said so," Draco said coldly.

"So?"

"Oh, leave him alone," Pansy snapped. "He said he'd choose Slytherin, and let's hope we never have to test that. Now are we going to finish our game, or are you just going to interrogate Draco? Because if you're just going interrogate Draco, I'm going to bed."

"I think it's your turn, Blaise," Theodore said, and they returned to their game.

Draco got changed into his pajamas, wondering as he did so if he really would choose Slytherin. Slytherin had been the most important piece of his life. No, Slytherin had been his life, and he would die before betraying them. The thought of losing their trust, friendship, and support wasn't something he even wanted to think about. But Harry… he wasn't sure he could live without Slytherin; he knew he couldn't survive without Harry. And he was afraid that someday he actually would have to choose between the two.

But with luck, that day wouldn't come for a long time yet—if ever.



It was the evening before Harry and Draco were leaving to go to Malfoy Manor and Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Ron had been willing to tolerate Draco as long as Harry didn't miss any meals or mention him too much or come back to the common room too late. Ron still didn't like Draco, nor was he happy that Harry was going to Malfoy Manor for Christmas, but he was willing to tolerate Draco, and that was enough for now. Harry had been careful not to get into another fight with Ron. The last thing he wanted was to spend all of Christmas on uneasy terms with Ron.

Harry had packed his things earlier that day and had spent the entire day with Ron and Hermione. Part of him missed being with Draco, but he firmly told that part of himself that he would have Draco all to himself for the entire Christmas holidays and the least he could do was spend today with his friends.

Ron had just beaten Harry at three chess games and was trying to persuade him to play another game while Hermione read.

"Come on, Harry. Just one more game," Ron begged.

Harry shook his head. "You'll cream me again."

"You might win. Fourth time's the charm."

"That's what you said last time," Harry pointed out.

"Come on, it's worth a shot."

"No. Anyway, I'm getting tired."

"Just one more game before you go away for Christmas. Please?"

Harry shook his head.

"Don't you want to get in one win before leaving?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Well first off, I won't be winning," Harry pointed out.

"So?"

"Harry," Hermione said looking up from her book as though something had just occurred to her.

"Yeah Hermione?"

"Is Malfoy's father still trying to sack Hagrid over Buckbeak?"

Harry blinked. "I… guess so…"

Ron glared at Harry. "How can you go out with this guy? He's trying to get rid of Hagrid just because he was stupid and got a little scratch on his arm."

Harry closed his eyes. Not again. "Ron, please don't—"

"Ron," Hermione said sharply. "You aren't helping." Ron glared at her, but she ignored him. "Harry, can't you ask them to lay off on Hagrid while you're staying over Christmas?"

"Sure."

"You'd better," Ron said warningly.

"I will. Hagrid's my friend too, you know."

"We know, Harry," Hermione said, stifling a yawn. "It's getting late. I'm going up to bed."

"So what about that game?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Then let's go up too."

Harry nodded and the three of them went up to bed.



It was almost noon by the time they arrived at platform 9 ¾. They had taken the Hogwarts Express from Hogwarts. Draco and Harry had shared a compartment with Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini. Harry felt exceedingly uncomfortable sitting in a compartment full of Slytherins, especially since Draco was refraining from touching him or otherwise showing any affection and Zabini was shooting him venomous glares across the compartment when he thought Draco wasn't looking. Nott was doing his best to ignore him. The only people who weren't treating him strangely were Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting like pillars of stone with Crabbe next to Draco and Goyle sitting across from Harry. Somehow, Harry found their presences comforting, disturbing though that thought was. But when he looked at Goyle, he could have sworn he saw an encouraging smile in the boy's expressionless eyes.

Draco, Zabini, and Nott spent the entire time talking and joking about various Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws along with every teacher but Snape, though Harry noticed that whenever Gryffindor came up, Draco could steer the conversation to something else. Occasionally they would make some joke aimed at Crabbe or Goyle, but they never seemed to notice, or perhaps they were used to it.

Harry was very much relieved when the train finally slowed down. Mr. Malfoy met them at the station, much to Harry's surprise. He wasn't sure who he'd expected to meet them—a servant, perhaps. But certainly not Lucius Malfoy himself. Harry was also surprised but relieved that the rest of the Slytherins were met by their respective parents. He had been wondering whether Crabbe or Goyle would be coming with them—he could hardly imagine Draco without them for any significant amount of time.

Mr. Malfoy insisted on going to Knockturn Alley before they went to Malfoy Manor.

"Can we get some ice cream after?"

Mr. Malfoy frowned, but when Draco pouted he sighed and said, "All right. Behave yourselves and after I buy what I need, we'll get ice cream."

"Thank you."

Mr. Malfoy gave a slight shake of his head and set off, leaving Harry and Draco to follow in his wake. He walked quickly and Harry felt like he had to run to keep up, though Draco managed to keep up without even seeming to walk faster. Knockturn Alley wasn't quite as foreboding as he'd remembered it being from his few minutes in the horrid place before his second year, but then he hadn't been expecting Diagon Alley this time, nor was he lost and alone here. Not to mention that he was older now and had had plenty of time to blow his memory of the place all out of proportion. By comparison to his memories of the place, it was positively cheerful.

Mr. Malfoy quickly vanished into one of the shops, telling Draco and Harry to wait outside. Draco rolled his eyes and turned to Harry.

"You want to see something interesting?" he asked.

"Er…" Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what Draco would find here that was 'interesting.'

But Draco seemed to take his lake of protests as a yes and set off down the street, leaving Harry to follow him. Harry stuck as close to Draco as he could as Draco led him down the street. On second thought, maybe Knockturn Alley was as creepy as he'd remembered. He passed several stores proudly displaying what looked like shriveled heads, mummified hands, poisoned griffin talons, and the like, and the vendors all seemed to be selling equally repulsive wares. The further they went into Knockturn Alley, the darker the street seemed to get. Darker, narrower, and dirtier, with more and more evidence of Dark Magic. The crowd seemed to thicken around them, pressing in on Harry and making him feel strangely claustrophobic. He desperately wished he could take Draco's hand for comfort, but given the crowd he doubted he would have been comfortable even if Draco had been inclined to hold hands. He kept feeling like something would spring out of the crowd and grab him or something and the press of people made him feel slightly ill.

Harry almost bumped into Draco when he stopped abruptly in front of an old, dingy little storefront. There was no sign above the door and there weren't any windows. Draco gave him a brief grin and opened the door, dragging Harry in behind him. It was a small shop, cluttered with various odds and ends on countless shelves and tables. One of the walls was lined with innumerable old and battered-looking books, another with various orbs and what looked suspiciously like snow globes. The outward facing wall was stocked with various stuffed animals and other similar toys. More shelves and tables made it impossible to cross the room in anything even remotely resembling a straight line, but despite the general air of disorganization, the store was clean and surprisingly cheery. Still more random trinkets were piled haphazardly on the shelves behind the cashier, which was located on the far side of the shop. Behind the counter lounged a tall, lanky young wizard of perhaps twenty with his multi-colored hair falling limply around his shoulders. Harry couldn't help staring at his hair—it wasn't just a mix of fuchsia, plum, cerise, and indigo highlights: the colors pulsed and rippled over his head, each strand constantly shifting in color and coming together to form ever-changing waves of color. The effect was… amazing.

Then the wizard looked up and Harry found himself staring into casual, lazy ice-blue eyes framed with golden-framed, rectangular glasses. He tossed his hair over his shoulder in a way that made Harry's stomach lurch. But then the man nodded and turned back to whatever he'd been doing.

Draco caught Harry's hand and dragged him over through the maze of tables to one near the left side of the store. The table had several boxes filled with various rocks, crystals, and scales in various shapes and sizes. Draco picked up one of the smaller scales and handed it to Harry. When he touched it, he felt a brief electric shock that left his fingers tingling. The scale was an iridescent green, about the size and shape of his palm. The surface was smooth and glossy, and slightly curved.

"It's a dragon scale. I'm not sure what kind—maybe a Common Welsh Green?—but they're powerful." Draco returned the scale to its box and lifted one of the stones. It was smooth, slightly egg-shaped and a misty, translucent white in color. But as Draco held it in his palm, a cool, deep green spread across it, radiating out from Draco's hand. He glanced up at Harry. "This is made from crushed phoenix bones—they crush it and heat it and it turns into this glass. Then they shape it just like regular glass, except that phoenix bones are sturdier. It's hollow and the actual glass is paper thin, but a herd of dragons could trample it and it wouldn't even get scratched. It's filled with rosewater, and it helps you focus. Here."

Suppressing his reservations about holding something made from phoenix bones, Harry accepted the stone. It was surprisingly heavy and warm in Harry's hand—not uncomfortably so, more of a comforting weight. Something about the heat and weight make it feel as though the stone was alive, almost pulsing in his hand. After a few seconds, a million faint colors began spreading from his hand, mingling and clashing with each other until they faded back to white at the center of the stone.

"Think about something," Draco told him.

"Like what?"

"How about Gryffindor."

"Huh?"

"Just think about Gryffindor. Think about your common room, your Housemates, your Gryffindor ideals. Whatever. Just think about it."

Harry tried to think about Ron and Hermione sitting in the common room right now. They were probably playing chess. Ron would be winning, and Fred and George would be pulling some sort of prank. He could almost see the fire burning away merrily in the fireplace and shining on Ron's flaming red hair, making him look positively stunning. And Hermione was facing him, her smile almost flirtatious, though Ron was—as always—oblivious. He was about to win rather spectacularly because Hermione had never been particularly good at chess. There was an explosion upstairs, and a few seconds later Fred and George came running down the stairs, laughing hard. A few seconds later, Percy followed them looking rather displeased. His hair and robes seemed slightly singed and Harry wondered what the twins had done this time. But instead of following the twins, Percy walked over to Harry and firmly plucked the egg out of his hand.

Suddenly, Harry found himself back in the shop, looking up into the shopkeeper's soft sapphire eyes and feeling very disoriented.

"That's the danger of phoenix glass eggs," he said, his voice calm and warm and sending shivers down Harry's spin. "They help you focus, but if you lose control you can become 'too focused' and get trapped." He smiled and returned the egg to the table.

"Harry," Draco said, dragging his attention back from the shopkeeper's gorgeous hair, and eyes, and nose, and mouth, and robes and… "We need to get going. Father's probably looking for us by now."

The shopkeeper smiled, a smile that made Harry want to just melt, and went back behind the counter.

Draco caught Harry's hand, dragging him out of the shop. Harry hardly even noticed Knockturn Alley as he followed Draco—it seemed that he didn't need a magic egg to get too focused on that shopkeeper. He barely even noticed that Draco was actually holding his hand, though admittedly it seemed to be more for the purpose of dragging him through the crowd than to actually hold his hand.

About halfway back, they ran into Mr. Malfoy.

"Draco!" Mr. Malfoy said in annoyance when he spotted them.

"Yes Father?" Draco asked patiently.

"What did I tell you about wandering?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I just took him to—"

"It doesn't matter where you took him. Coming to Knockturn Alley is a privilege, and if you can't demonstrate that you're mature enough not to wander off without telling me, than obviously you aren't old enough. I can always leave you in Diagon Alley."

"But Father, even Gregory and Vincent can come here on their own."

"Well, as neither Mr. Goyle nor Mr. Crabbe is your father, I don't see what that has to do with you. I'm your father, and you'll do as I say."

Draco made a face, but either Mr. Malfoy didn't notice or he didn't care. "Okay, I'm sorry. Can we please go get ice cream now?"

"I said we could if you behaved."

"Oh come on, it's not as if I did anything bad. I just went off on my own. And I said I was sorry."

"Draco—" Mr. Malfoy said in a warning tone.

Draco pouted at him. "Please?"

"Draco, I know your mother spoils you rotten, but I will not put up with this behavior!"

"But Father, we have a guest."

Mr. Malfoy sighed. "Oh all right. But I'm not buying you anything else."

A/N: Master of the flames: It's not a matter of time and affection; it's a matter of which one's feeling very sick and tired and needs to be nursed back to health.
Well yeah, there is an aspect of me just slagging off... and real life intervening (yes, I do have a life beyond writing fanfics... I beta read, too. :D) But Over the Rainbow's been feeling a bit under the weather lately, and has been demanding all my attention. Stars-n-moons91, Kashiaga, and Orange: Thanks.