After breakfast the next morning, Draco suggested that they go skating.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Ice skating," Draco repeated. "Don't tell me Muggles don't go ice skating."

"Of course they do," Harry said nervously. Uncle Vernon had taken them skating several times, though Uncle Vernon had refused to get Harry any skates, so Harry had ended up spending the whole time sitting and watching the other children. "I just … never learned."

"Why not?" Draco asked, looking at him as if this were a crime worthy of a life sentence in Azkaban.

Harry glared at him. "I was too busy being locked up in a closet. Sorry."

"Figuratively speaking," Draco said with a smirk.

Harry flushed slightly. "And literally."

Draco blinked at him. "They literally kept you locked up in a closet?"

"Yeah. The cupboard under the stairs."

"Does Dumbledore know about this?" Draco asked him sharply.

"Er… I guess so," Harry said. He hadn't really given much thought to whether or not Dumbledore was aware of his childhood with the Dursleys. "I mean, the letter from Hogwarts was addressed to me to 'The Cupboard Under the Stairs,' so he must."

"Look, I know you trust Dumbledore and everything, but … do you really think he's looking out for your best interests?"

Harry looked away. He knew Dumbledore was doing his best to protect him; he didn't know how or why, but he was sure of it. "He … he's doing his best, and he probably has a really good reason."

Draco looked unconvinced. "It had better be a pretty damn good reason."

Harry didn't say anything.

"Anyway, since you've never learned to skate, I'll just have to teach you."

Harry felt his heart sink. "You have to?"

"Yes. It'll be fun."

About ten minutes later, Draco was dragging Harry across the snow to the lake out behind Malfoy Manor, carrying two pairs of ice skates. The lake – technically a pond, according to Draco, though Harry wasn't sure what the difference was – was only slightly smaller than the one at Hogwarts. It was surrounded by shallow banks of tightly packed snow. When they reached the edge of the lake, Draco handed Harry one pair of ice skates and sat down in the snow to put on his own.

Harry sat down next to him, reluctantly pulling off his boots. The last time he'd been this close to a pair of ice skates, he'd been six years old and they'd been hurtling through the air towards his face. It had been the first time Dudley had ever gone skating. Harry had truly enjoyed watching as Dudley scrambled and slid across the ice, trying desperately to maintain his balance and failing spectacularly – until afterwards when Dudley had taken off his skates and, in a fit of anger and frustration, flung one at Harry. The blade had sliced deeply into Harry's cheek, only just missing his eye. He had had to get stitches and Aunt Petunia had refused to feed him for two days, saying he had provoked Dudley. After that, Harry had made a point of avoiding Dudley after he'd been skating, and anything to do with skating at all.

But this was Draco, not Dudley, and Harry doubted that Draco would ever have thrown his skates at Harry, even when they were enemies. For one thing, he wouldn't have wanted to get blood on them.

So Harry gritted his teeth and set pulled the skates on over his socks. Draco was already on the ice, gliding over it with a natural ease and grace, as at home here as Harry was in the air. He circled the pond once before coming to a halt before where Harry was still sitting.

"Are you going to get up, or do you plan on sitting in the snow all day?"

Harry made a face and climbed unsteadily to his feet. He felt awkward in the skates – unbalanced, too tall, and his feet were too heavy.

"That's a good start," Draco said in an overly encouraging tone.

"You're mocking me."

"Would I do a thing like that?" Draco asked with feigned innocence.

"Yes."

"All right now, next you have to get on the ice."

Harry resisted the urge to make a rude gesture at Draco, instead walking towards the ice. The moment he stepped onto the smooth surface, he felt his feet slide out from under him and the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back with Draco laughing over him. Usually he loved it when Draco laughed –not his usual mocking, sarcastic laugh, but really laughed. His laughter was even more rare than his smiles, and Harry usually treasured each laugh, knowing that he was one of the few who had ever seen Draco truly laugh. Normally. Right now, though, he wished he could smack the boy. And he would have, if he could have gotten up.

"All right, Potter. Lesson one: getting up after you've fallen down. I suspect you'll get very good at this."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Harry muttered irritably.

"My pleasure," Draco replied, now skating in circles around Harry.

"Are you going to tell me how to get up, or just gloat?"

Draco tilted his head to one side, his face thoughtful. "I don't know… I rather like you like this…."

With an effort, Harry resisted the impulse to trip him as he passed by Harry's feet again, remembering all too well how easily the blade of Dudley's skate had cute into his flesh. Instead he just glared mutely at Draco until the boy sighed.

"Oh all right. Sit up. Now get into a sort of kneeling position." Harry complied and Draco applauded. "Very good."

"I hate you," Harry informed him.

"Been there. Done that. Bought all the tacky souvenirs. Now get up on one knee. Good. Now put your hands on your knee and push yourself up."

Harry managed to get to his feet, feeling very wobbly. A moment later, he lost his balance, but this time, Draco grabbed his waist, holding him upright until he got his footing. Harry clung helplessly to the boy, wishing there was a wall or something he could hold onto instead. He had a sudden image of a six-year-old Dudley desperately hanging onto the wall at the edge of the rink as Harry watched, trying hard not to laugh, and he felt a fleeting twinge of disturbing sympathy for his cousin, before he quickly shut the memory out. He would not think about that.

Draco let go, and Harry managed to stand on his own for several seconds before he had to catch Draco's shoulder and steady himself. When he let go, he felt a little more stable.

"Okay," Draco said. "Now that you can stand, try walking."

"Walking?"

"Yes – you know, when you move your feet back and forth and go places."

Harry attempted to take a step and once again felt his feet slip and found himself lying flat on his back. This time, he managed to get to his feet without falling over, much to his relief.

"Try taking little baby steps," Draco suggested. "And don't move your feet along the ice too much."

Harry managed to take one step, lifting his foot and setting it down on the ice a few inches forwards, and another before his foot slipped and he found himself staring up at the sky again. For the next few minutes, Draco had Harry walking across the ice, and feeling stupider and stupider by the moment. He was just glad that no one else was here to witness this, because he was sure the rest of his friends all knew how to skate and would probably be laughing just as hard as Draco was.

Finally, Draco was satisfied that he could take a few steps without falling flat on his back and had him start trying to actually glide a little. By the time the time it started snowing around noon, Harry was more or less able to skate around the pond, though Draco's habit of doing some impressive jump or spin just when Harry was beginning to feel proud of how well he was doing was annoying, to say the least.

"It's snowing," Draco commented, looking up at the sky.

"Wow, you're almost as observant as Hermione."

"Of course I am – more so, in fact. I'm a Malfoy, aren't I?"

"Then how come she gets better marks than you in just about everything?"

Draco gave baleful look. "Just because I have incredible observation skills and just happen to be a genius doesn't mean I have to exercise said talents at every possible opportunity. We Slytherins are intelligent enough to understand that it's usually best to play stupid and have everyone underestimate you than to flaunt your intelligence for all the world too see."

Harry snorted. "Well in that case, Crabbe and Goyle must be smarter than Einstein."

"Who?"

Harry sighed. "Never mind."

"Now I'm curious."

"A Muggle scientist."

"Muggle what?"

"Scientist." Harry frowned, trying to figure out how to explain what a scientist was. Hermione would have been able to – she was always good at explaining Muggle things to Wizards – but she wasn't here. "Someone who … researches stuff. Sort of…."

"Right, never mind. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted by a certain manner-less Gryffindor: it's snowing, I'm getting hungry and cold, so let's go inside, find lunch, and sit down in front of a nice warm fire and snog until Mother finds us and has a fit about … something?"

"Sounds good to me. Well, except the part where your mother has a fit – is that really necessary?"

"Absolutely."

The two of them made their way over to one of the snow banks to change back into their boots, Harry being exceedingly careful of his blade. Somehow the skates seemed incredibly dangerous once they were off his feet.

Suddenly, Harry turned to Draco as something occurred to him. "Wasn't it snowing yesterday?"

"What was that you were saying about my observation skills?"

Harry made a face "How come there isn't any snow on the pond?"

"The house-elves clear it off."

"Always?"

Draco shrugged. "I think so. My great-great-grandmother, Cecelia Malfoy, ordered the house-elves to always keep the pond cleared off and no one's ordered them otherwise yet."

"So they just … keep doing it?"

Draco nodded. "And they always will; as long as there's a pond and house-elves, the house-elves will clear off snow and branches off the ice."

"So if you told one to stand in a certain spot, he would until you told him he could move?"

Draco nodded again, climbing to his feet. "Or until he died. If I ordered one to make sure a house-elf was standing in a certain spot, then they'd probably take turns and would be standing there until the end of time. But I really don't see a problem with having them keep the pond cleared off. If they didn't, I'd just have to tell them to anyways."

Harry finished tying his boots and they set off towards the house. "And does anyone else skate on the pond?" Harry asked. He was having a hard time envisioning either the cold, calculating, distant Mr. Malfoy or the fussing, paranoid Narcissa ice-skating.

"My father used to, when I was little. He's the one who taught me – it's one of the only things he actually taught me himself, instead of hiring a tutor." He glanced at Harry and smiled slightly. "But he doesn't have the time anymore, and Mother hates the cold, so now it's just my friends and me." He shrugged. For a few moments, they walked in silence, Draco remembering the time his father had spent with him and Harry trying (and failing) to picture either Crabbe or Goyle ice-skating.

Then Draco turned to Harry with a gleam in his eyes. "Race you the rest of the way to the house," he said and set off without waiting for Harry's response. Harry just laughed and ran after him.

A/N: Lizzy: Thanks... I do like that pic, and it does look like they're going to kiss, but probably just because I think they always look like they're going to kiss.
LightElf 99: I feel so special now. ;D And I'm not slacking off right now... just researching what life at Malfoy Mansion would be like (sort of).
Number seven: Well, Narcissa probably wouln't have let them go to Diagon Alley either. And they will go to Diagon Alley eventually.
Kashiaga: And what exactly did you expect to happen? :P
Trekkie-54: Yeah, that was a sort of boring chapter, but I think they're doing stuff now. Stars-n-moons91: Okay.
And a million thanks to Katy, who beta-ed this :D (since Orange has abandoned me for now). Also, any suggestions/requests for what they should do over the vacation (other than snog...) will be at the very least seriously considered.