Repetitions

by madam-malicia

AU SLASH Orphaned Harry Potter is adopted by Sirius Black just before his 17th birthday. In his new town, Harry falls for Draco Malfoy and tries to uncover the mystery surrounding his parents' death. NEW CHAPTER!

6. Chapter Six

Repetitions

Chapter Six

Pairing: H/D
Rating: R/NC-17 The "R" version will be archived at and the "NC-17" version will be posted at Please check my profile for links if you prefer the alternate version. This chapter is rated R and is the same in both places.
Warnings: Complete AU, No Magic, Set in America, Slash, WIP
Disclaimer: Do I really need to put this here? Yes? Fine, then. Everything belongs to JKR. She is God but has been kind enough to let us play with her creations.
Beta: Solarisday (thanks so much!)
Summary: Orphaned Harry Potter is adopted by Sirius Black just before his 17th birthday. In his new town, he begins a relationship with Draco Malfoy and tries to uncover the truth of his parents' mysterious death.
Author Notes: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! I appreciate every single one. Keep them coming! They are like crack and I am a crack whore.

A few you were a bit confused about the bloodied room at Godric's Hollow. About whether or not it had been painted over. I hadn't shown it actually being done but there were two scenes that referenced it. The first was when Harry talks to Ron and the twins in the kitchen at GP and the second was when Draco was floating in his pool. Basically, they had painted over the blood and it had reappeared. Rather odd, huh? snickers You all will learn why later on, but I have provided a rather large hint about it in a post I made to my livejournal. I will speak more about that in my closing A/N at the bottom.

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Harry was disappointed when Draco showed up at the law firm. Part of him hoped Draco wouldn't. He didn't want to do this. Didn't know how to do it.

He grabbed the shoebox from a drawer in his desk and took Draco to the small park behind the law firm where they usually went on their lunch dates. Draco eyed the box curiously but did not ask questions. Harry managed to find an empty spot in the crowded park underneath a large tree. It wasn't completely isolated, as Harry would have liked. An elegantly dressed older man sat nearby, busying himself with a newspaper.

Draco chattered lightly about the coming school year, which was due to start next week. Harry was only half listening to him, thinking about how he might go about it. Sorry, Draco, but I just want to be friends, was too trite. And it wasn't even true. Harry didn't want to be friends with Draco. He wanted-well, it didn't matter what he wanted anymore.

Harry felt long arms encircle his shoulders and a pair of lips brush across his cheek. He stiffened and hesitantly pulled out of the embrace.

"Sorry," Draco said, ruefully. "You looked upset."

"Oh," Harry said, dumbly. He couldn't even look at Draco. Why did he have to be so nice? It wasn't making things any easier.

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Draco, after a terse pause. "You've barely talked today. Are you mad at me?"

Harry nervously bit at his lower lip. He stared at the tips of his shoes as he gripped the box tightly in his hands.

"No…I just…" He made the mistake of looking into Draco's gray eyes and felt his resolve dwindling away. His hold on the box eased and he set it on the bench beside him. He couldn't do it. "It's nothing. I've just been thinking about my parents a lot lately."

It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the cause for his present distress. Draco murmured consolingly and draped an arm around Harry's neck. They sat that way for some time, completely silent. Occasionally, Draco would lift Harry's face up for a small kiss. There was nothing especially untoward about their actions but their intimacy was made a little scandalous simply because they were both boys. Passer-bys stopped at times stop to gawk at them and Draco would smirk, then kiss Harry again.

Harry lingered in the park after Draco left. He should not have let Draco kiss him. Not when things were to end soon. Harry told himself he wouldn't chicken out tomorrow. He would give the dragon back to Draco and that would be that.

But…

It felt so good to be with Draco; to talk to Draco. To touch and kiss him. He would miss him. But it was for the best to end things now. Draco might be upset at first, but he'd get over it. The day would come when Draco would laugh and wonder why he ever had anything to do with Harry Potter.

And, Harry reasoned, if only thinking about not being with Draco felt this horrible now, how awful would it be, later on, when Draco realized he was making a mistake and found someone better. Harry had no doubts it would happen. Yes, it was better this way, even if it didn't feel like it. Tomorrow. He'd definitely do it tomorrow.

"You are a coward, Harry," a rather dignified voice called out.

Harry's head jerked up and he looked around for the sound of the voice. "Excuse me?"

There was a shuffling sound to his left as the man behind the paper stood up and walked over to Harry.

"I said, you are a coward, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened. "Er…Do I know you?"

"No," said the man, with a small chuckle. "But we have met once before. I am Dedalus Diggle and you are Harry Potter. Correct?"

Harry vaguely recalled meeting the man. "Umm, right."

"Thought so. I never forget a name." Dedalus gave a self-effacing smile. "You must forgive me for prying but you were thinking aloud and I couldn't help but overhear. I have always had a big nose and am constantly sticking it where it doesn't belong. My mother used to tell me that interfering in other people's affairs would get me in trouble someday and she was proved absolutely correct in that assertion. Unfortunately, it seems, I have yet to heed her message."

Harry reddened. He was at a loss for words. Had Dedalus heard everything he was thinking?

"Don't you care to know why you are a coward?" inquired Dedalus as he sat on the bench next to Harry. "I'd certainly want to know why a meddlesome old man was calling me names."

Harry merely looked about anxiously. Dedalus must have taken Harry's silence as an affirmation as he continued, "You think it's only a matter of time before your young man leaves you, so it's better to leave him now so that you do not get hurt at a later time. Well, Harry, that is a very foolish and cowardly way to live. Life is hard and you are going to get hurt. It's inevitable. You can lock yourself and try to avoid pain but that is not living. That is merely existing.

"In life, you have to take a chance and not let fear hold you back. Sometimes, when you are staring into a sea of uncertainty, you just have to let yourself fall into it. Let the tide take you where it will. I let myself fall once. And when I crashed it seemed as if my soul had been drowning in agony for eons. It was the most terrifying and wonderful thing I have ever experienced. Despite the painful consequences, I have never regretted the choice. Not once."

He stood up and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Well, I have used up enough of your time. But take some advice from someone who knows about these sorts of things. Give your young man a chance. It's true. Things might end badly. However, they might not. You'll never know unless you let yourself find out."

Dedalus gave Harry a nod and strolled, leisurely, away. Harry stared after him, a little dazed at the gumption of the man. The advice, though unsolicited and unwanted, rang in Harry's ears.

Harry was still thinking about it, later that afternoon. He had gotten off work early to go to football practice. He was in the locker room, undressing, not even bothering to pretend interest in the conversation around him as he mulled over Dedalus' words.

He kept his eyes glued to the closed locker door before him so as to not see any of the half naked young men carousing in the aisles. Ron and Justin had taken the lockers on each side of Harry. The two boys seemed to rule the team and with their show of support, no one dared to say anything offensive to Harry. But it was clear many of the players were uncomfortable with his presence and Harry would much prefer avoiding any unfounded accusations of impropriety.

"God, you're pretty gloomy, today," said Ron as he put on and adjusted his jockstrap. "Take a look in your locker. There's something in there that might make you happy."

Harry opened his locker and had to smile. Ron Weasley's idea of happiness would have to be a brand new football jersey. It was a deep purple with touches of white and silver here and there. The name "Potter" was emblazoned across the back and below that was a large '58'. On the shelf above the hanging jersey was a purple helmet with a white silhouette of a wand shooting tiny little stars. It finally felt official. Harry was a member of the Hogsmeade Sorcerers, state champions for the last two years. Ron had said their mascot was a wizard played by none other than Mr. Dumbledore himself.

"So, what do you think?" Ron asked eagerly. "They arrived yesterday. Like your number?"

Harry snickered. "It's…" He stopped and looked at the '58' again. He then recalled an old yearbook photo of a young football player who looked very much like himself. "That was my dad's number!"

"I know! I looked it up and since it was open this year I asked Hooch to give it to you."

He might have hugged Ron at that moment, had they been alone and well, not naked. Things being what they were, he settled for a firm smack on Ron's back and a hearty, "Thanks, man!"

Ron smiled, returned the slap and went to join the immature congratulating of the blushing freshman that had gotten the very coveted number of sixty-nine.

Harry stared at him, filled with a warm, indescribable feeling. So maybe they wouldn't have been friends were it not for Sirius but they were friends now and that's what counted. Right?

Right.

It was a grueling practice, and afterwards, Harry wasn't in the mood to do anything but go home and take a nice long nap. Harry didn't know if he would last much longer. He was certain he'd end up in a body brace before school even started.

Sirius and Remus were both in the study at Grimmauld Place. Sirius was once again at his typewriter while Remus sat at a small table making marks on a yellow legal pad. Remus had mentioned at work that he'd be staying over. Harry wondered if that meant Tonks was in the hospital but thought it too intrusive to ask.

"Hey, Harry," said Sirius, momentarily looking up from his typewriter. "How was practice?"

"Mostly awful," said Harry. "Except for when I found out that Ron gave me my dad's old number."

Sirius' face lit up. "That was nice of him."

Harry nodded and suppressed a yawn. "I'm gonna go take a nap."

Sirius motioned towards a small table next to a dilapidated wingback chair. "Before you go, some mail came for you today."

Harry curiously went over to the table. He had never received mail before and wondered who could possibly be writing to him. But, as it turned out, the letter was merely from the high school. It was an invitation to the new student orientation that was to be held on this up-coming Saturday morning with a school-wide festival to follow.

He had already known about it as the football field would be commandeered that day, thus moving their regular Saturday practice to Sunday afternoon. Harry handed the letter over to Sirius who seemed rather keen on going.

"You only want to go so you can bug Severus," said Remus.

Sirius smirked but did not deny it.

"Oh, Harry," said Remus as Harry was turning to leave. "I need to give the projector back to Creevey tomorrow so if you want to watch the reels again, you'll need to do it tonight."

Though Harry was very tired, he wanted to get in one final viewing while he could. Harry's body, however, had other plans and it was shortly after the exchanging of rings that Harry fell asleep as he laid on a couch in the study.

Sometime later Harry was nudged into wakefulness as Sirius pushed a throw pillow under his head and tried to adjust Harry's body into a more comfortable position.

Harry snuggled into the pillow, trying to recapture his sweet slumber. He heard a clicking sound as someone turned off the projector.

"Harry's going to wear those films out, as much as he watches them," said Sirius. "I have to wonder if it healthy. Maybe I should have him talk to someone. Like a counselor."

Harry tensed. He didn't need to see some stupid counselor!

"Might not be a bad idea," said Remus. "Though, I thought he took it all much better than to be expected. He's been asking me about them, you know. James and Lily and how they died."

"What did you say to him?"

Remus sighed heavily. "I didn't know what to say to him. I told him to talk to you about it."

"Hmmm. I just don't understand what brought on all these questions. I already told him what happened."

"Well, it's only natural that the boy would be curious," said Remus. "And I wouldn't be surprised if someone said something to him. There was a lot of renewed interest in the murders after that book came out."

"That damn book!" Sirius exclaimed bitterly. "Rita Skeeter is one lucky bitch that I was in prison when she wrote that fucking thing!"

The book!

He had completely forgotten about it. Draco had said something about a book when they were in Ollivander's Antiques.

Harry lay perfectly still so not to let them know he was awake and listening. He strained to hear more but the conversation was already moving on to Tonks, who, as Harry had suspected, was back in the hospital.

He continued to feign sleep for several more minutes then let out a fake yawn as if he had just woken up. He wanted to turn the projector back on but opted against it lest Sirius and Remus start their "counselor" talk again.

Instead, he went up to his room where he stared at the phone next to his bed, debating whether to call Draco.

Harry wanted to. Badly. And not just to ask him about the book.

He still hadn't made a decision by the time Sirius called him down for dinner. And afterwards, Sirius decided that they ought to take their bikes out so Harry could get more practice riding at night.

Harry welcomed the distraction. He needed time to clear his head and think about what he wanted to do.

It seemed wrong to call Draco tonight, act like everything was okay, and then break up with him tomorrow.

And was it even breaking up? They hadn't been on a date. Haven't really seen much of each other thanks to Lucius Malfoy's annoying habit of grounding his son. All that they had shared were a handful of meetings and a few kisses.

No, it wasn't breaking up. It was just…not starting something. It should have been easier to think of it that way.

It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

God! Why did life have to be so difficult?

But was he making things harder than they needed to be?

Maybe he was being cowardly and foolish.

Harry thought about it. What would be possibly served by saying goodbye to Draco?

It wasn't as if he was sparing himself any agony. Misery was all Harry had felt since he first entertained the thought of not seeing Draco anymore. Plus, he'd just end up hurting the feelings of a boy who had done nothing wrong but like him.

And Draco did like him.

Who cared if Terry Boot didn't? It shouldn't matter.

It didn't matter.

Draco liked him and maybe it was only for now but Dedalus was right. He wouldn't know unless he let himself find out. And Harry wanted to find out. Draco was worth taking a chance on. He'd stand on the edge and let himself…fall.

He only hoped he could handle the pain of crashing.

Upon returning to Grimmauld Place, Harry went directly to his room, overflowing with the elation of his ride and of having finally come to an absolute decision. He quickly dialed Draco's number before old doubts returned and smiled when Draco answered the phone.

0000000

Harry looked down at the scrap of paper in his hand then back at the stacks of books on the shelf before him, searching for Phoenix Descending by Rita Skeeter, a local resident of Hogsmeade. According to Draco, it had been published more than ten years ago and had caused quite a stir when it had come out. Draco didn't have any information, other than that, having not actually read the book.

It was Harry's lunch break. Draco had swim practice and had been unable to have lunch with him. Having nothing else to do, Harry went to the bookshop, Flourish and Botts, which sat a few buildings down from the law firm in hopes that the storemight have the book.

Unfortunately, Flourish and Botts seemed to only carry classic literature and academic books. The clerk behind the cash register confirmed they did not have the book and suggested that Harry try the library or one of the chain bookstores out by the mall.

It was too far to walk to the mall and Harry wasn't sure where the library was located. Giving up for the day, he went to a delicatessen and figured he could at least quell the rumbling in his stomach. He took his lunch to the park and tore off bits of his bread to feed the birds.

They scattered as someone approached.

"All alone today?" asked Dedalus Diggle. He shook his head sadly. "And I had so hoped you would take my advice."

"Oh, I didn't-I mean, I did. I did take it. I didn't break up with him."

Dedalus smiled broadly. "Glad to hear it. I've seen you two, frolicking about the park…"

Harry fought the urge to protest to that he and Draco did not frolic.

"Such a wonderful sight, to see young love blossoming before one's very eyes," continued Dedalus. "Does an old man's heart good. I could not sit idly by and watch it needlessly torn asunder."

Dedalus took a seat on the bench across from Harry. He pulled out an oddly shaped, but beautifully carved wooden pipe and lit it with a match. "Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Dedalus, lifting the pipe. "An old African chief gave this to me after I helped him out of a spot of trouble. Gorgeous place, Africa. Have you ever been?"

"I've never been anywhere."

"Pity. Make sure you take the time to travel before you settle down. You'll regret it, if you don't. I've been all over this swirling blue marble of ours. But that was in my earlier years, long before your mother was even a gleam in your grandmother's eye."

"You don't look that old."

"Oh, thank you," Dedalus said graciously. "I do like to take to care of myself. But, let me assure you, I'm quite ancient. Appearances can very deceiving."

Harry continued talking to Dedalus until it was time for him to return to work. He wasn't quite sure why he stayed. Talking with random strangers wasn't a usual occurrence for him. But Dedalus seemed like a nice old man, though a little eccentric. Harry supposed he might feel a little obligated to him, for had it not been for Dedalus' interference, he probably would have broken up with Draco and be wallowing in self-created despair.

He worked a full day, not having practice that afternoon. Remus was going to take them both home to Grimmauld Place but he first needed to finish a phone conference. Harry waited for him in the mostly empty outer office, making calls to the other bookstores in town.

Harry was very eager to get a hold of that book, He had a feeling it would contain all the answers he sought. Answers that no one wanted to give him. He had spoken to Ron and Draco about it briefly, but neither boy seemed to know any more than Harry. The murders had taken place so long ago and everyone had moved on. It was old news. Old news for everyone but Harry.

Unfortunately, Phoenix Descending, it appeared, had been out of print for a few years and no one had a copy on hand. Several stores offered to back order it for him but it would take a few weeks to arrive. Harry decided to save that as a last resort. He wanted to try the library first.

Shacklebolt came out of his office. He stopped before Harry and patiently waited as Harry finished his call with the last bookstore.

"There have been some developments in your case that I need to talk to you and Sirius about," said Shacklebolt after Harry hung up the phone. "I have openings tomorrow at eleven and anytime after three. Ask Sirius when he can make it and tell him to give me a call at home."

"Can't you just tell me now?" Harry asked, eager to know what the developments might be.

"I would, Harry, but I'd prefer speaking with you both at the same time."

"All right," Harry said, disappointed. "I'll have him call you."

Remus emerged shortly after Shacklebolt had left. Before going to Grimmauld Place, they stopped at a flower shop named Sprout's so that Remus could have some flowers delivered to Tonks. As Remus directed a worker in the creation of a large arrangement of roses, Harry picked out a smaller bouquet. It wasn't nearly as elaborate or expensive as Remus' but it was colorful and funky-like Tonks. Harry thought she would like them.

Harry took his selection to the front counter where a heavy bellied man with a cheerful smile manned the register.

"I want these sent to the same person as him," said Harry, pointing across the shop to where Remus was standing.

"All right," said the man. He grabbed a small card from a pile on the counter. "What would you like on the card?"

"Umm. Get well soon?" It was a bit clichéd but Harry didn't know what else to put.

"And your name?"

"Harry Potter."

A loud crashing sound came from a room behind the counter, followed by a stream of muffled cursing.

The man started and turned his head towards the room. "Are you okay, Neville?"

"Yes, Mr. Sprout. Sorry about that," came a young, male voice. "I'll clean it up."

Mr. Sprout nodded, his forehead furrowed with puzzlement. He returned to the counter and started to write Harry's name on the card. He paused as some sort of realization seemed to dawn. "Oh…"

"Is there a problem?" asked Harry. Mr. Sprout hadn't moved for several seconds, lost in his own thoughts.

"No," said Mr. Sprout with a small, distracted smile. "That will be $19.45."

At Grimmauld Place, Sirius was outside, laughing as he chased Snuffles around the yard. There was a large van with Eeylops Emporium written across the doors parked by the garage. Through the open front door, Harry could hear loud hammering.

"What's going on, Sirius?" asked Remus as he got out of his car.

"They're putting together a little present I ordered for Snuffles," said Sirius. "It should be finished soon."

As soon as the words were out of Sirius' mouth two men clad in white coveralls came out, carrying large toolboxes.

"All done, Mr. Black," said one of the men.

Sirius thanked the men with a hefty tip then led everyone into the front entry hall. Pushed in a corner was a sleek, silver dome-like contraption. It was, as Harry soon learned, the Bow Wow 3000, the latest in hi-tech dog beds. It boasted an automatic backscratcher and a NASA created, space-age foam mattress with a heat pad and built in vibrating massagers. There was even a little radio that played a wide selection of soothing tunes.

Snuffles sat in the bed and growled happily as the massagers worked their magic.

"That's right, baby!" said Sirius as he was hunched on his hands and knees, grinning in Snuffles face. "Enjoy it! Just think, you could have it this good everyday, if you lived here."

"Jesus, Sirius! How much did that thing cost you?" asked Remus.

Sirius looked over his shoulder with a slight blush. "I'd rather not say."

"That much?"

Harry didn't doubt that Sirius had paid a small fortune for it. Sirius' devotion to the dog bordered on insane. Ever since Snuffles had come to stay with them, Sirius had been romancing him with a passion. Wooing him with choice cuts of meat and gourmet doggie biscuits. Snuffles ate better than they did these days.

"Mr. Shacklebolt wants to see us tomorrow," said Harry, after Sirius had ceased his tender adoration of Snuffles. "About my case. He has openings at eleven and after three."

"Hmmm," said Sirius, scratching his chin. "Eleven is definitely out."

"I have to leave at 3:30 for practice."

"That's going to cut things a little close. I've an appointment that will last most of the day. Let me call Kingsley and see if we can find a workable time."

"What kind of appointment?" asked Harry, trailing after Sirius as he went to the study to call Shacklebolt.

Sirius grinned. "You'll find out tomorrow."

The finalized time was 3:15 PM. Shacklebolt had said their meeting wouldn't last long so Harry would be able to leave early and it gave Sirius enough time to make it there from his mysterious appointment.

That evening Sirius couldn't seem to sit still for anything. He was filled with a nervous energy and could often be found pacing the floors of Grimmauld Place or standing before the large gilded mirror in the parlor, fingering his long black locks.

Sirius' odd behavior intensified Harry's desire to know what he was up to, but Sirius wouldn't say a thing a thing about it.

"Tomorrow," was Sirius' final word on the matter.

Tomorrow didn't come fast enough. At 3:16 Harry sat anxiously at his desk, wondering where Sirius was. When the clock hand flicked over to seventeen, Harry rose and walked over to Mrs. Glasser, who was flirting with a handsome, well-dressed client.

Harry stood behind him and waited for Mrs. Glasser to finish speaking with the man. After a few seconds, she leaned over and asked, "Can I help you, dear?"

"Sorry for interrupting," said Harry. "But I was wondering if Sirius called and said he'd be late?"

The man twirled around. "I'm right here, Harry."

Harry's jaw dropped, literally.

When he had left Grimmauld Place this morning, Sirius had look like, well, Sirius. Long black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, worn jeans and a tight t-shirt. Today, before Harry, stood a man in an expensive dark gray business suit. Sirius' hair had been shorn off into a short style that had the somewhat paradoxical effect of making him look more mature, yet years younger. The only distraction from Sirius' new professional appearance was the still visible cut that ran down his face.

"You didn't even recognize me!" exclaimed Sirius.

Harry shook his head. "Why do you look like that?"

"Thought it was time for a change."

"Is this for your appointment?" Harry was filled with sudden understanding. "You had a job interview!"

"Nope!" said Sirius, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Something even better."

Before Harry could ask what the something better was, Shacklebolt came out and said,

"Well damn, Sirius. You didn't need to get all spiffed up just to see me."

Sirius held out his arms and leered at Shacklebolt. "It's all for you."

Shacklebolt laughed as he motioned for them to follow him to his office. "I need to go home to my wife and reassure myself that I'm straight."

"It's all right to want a piece, Kingsley," said Sirius.

They continued their pretend flirting until everyone was settled. Shacklebolt quickly reverted back to lawyer mode when he pulled out Harry's file.

"I've called you in to find a suitable time for a meeting with Shane Potter and the Dursleys." He reached for his thick planner and flipped through the pages. "I have already spoken with their lawyers and the earliest time we could agree on was at one o'clock on September 13th. That's a Saturday. Would it work for the both of you?"

"Works for me," said Sirius as Harry nodded.

Shacklebolt scribbled into his planner. "We'll meet here, in one of the conference rooms. Now, Remus tells me that the Dursleys are still in possession of some of Harry's belongings. I've instructed Mr. Polkiss, their lawyer, to have them bring everything. Sirius, I want you to make an itemized list of everything you sent with Harry-everything you can remember. Bring it to me and I'll fax it to Polkiss to make sure they don't forget anything."

"Do you really think they'll give me back the house?" asked Harry.

"Well, I don't want to give you false hope," said Shacklebolt. "I am cautiously optimistic. The statute of limitations in this type of case has already well passed. But-" Shacklebolt shifted through Harry's file and plopped a stapled packet on his desk. Harry picked it up and recognized it as the final ruling of a court case. Several passages were highlighted in yellow. "This is the best thing we have going for us. Fredricks vs. Robinson. The case involved a minor child and some property near Chicago. It went as far as the Illinois Supreme Court and they ruled in the child's favor in 1994. The cases aren't exactly the same but there are enough similarities that I think we might be able to convince a judge that precedence has already been established. Hopefully, Mr. Potter will realize that and will want to avoid the cost and time of going to court."

"And if he doesn't?" asked Sirius.

"Then we file a lawsuit," said Shacklebolt. "I'm willing to take this as far as Harry wants. Well, that's all I have for now. I want to meet with you both a few days before the conference and we'll go over everything that will happen."

"So what's your big news?" demanded Harry as they returned to the main lobby of the firm.

"Later," said Sirius. "Ron's outside waiting for you. We're going to celebrate tonight. After practice have Ron drop you off at Jean-Pierre's. It's a restaurant. Ron can come along if he wants."

"But-"

"Go, or you'll be late."

Harry gave Sirius a pleading look but to no avail. Frustrated, he gathered his things and went out to meet Ron.

Practice seemed to last forever, with every minute dragging on for eternity. Finally, hours later, Harry and Ron were on their way to Jean-Pierre's. It was a swanky French restaurant constructed of glass and exposed golden beams. Even though it wasn't the weekend, the place was hopping and they had to wait several minutes in line.

A tall, snobby looking maître d' in a tux lifted his eyebrows when they approached. He could barely contain his sneer.

"Have you a reservation?" he asked, clearly doubting that they did.

"I don't know," said Harry, a little worried. "We're here to meet Sirius Black."

The man pursed his lips and looked down at his list. "Ah, yes. I have a reservation for Sirius Black at 7:25. The rest of your party has yet to arrive." He motioned towards a red, velvet-covered bench. "Wait here and someone will be along to seat you shortly."

Ron looked around at all the other patrons then down at his own body. Everyone else was dressed in suits and cocktail dresses. Harry wasn't too out of place in his button-down shirt and khakis but Ron stuck out like a sore thumb, wearing a t-shirt and jeans.

"Maybe I should go home and change," said Ron.

"Ah, you're fine, Ginger!" boomed a loud, rough voice.

They looked over to see Tenebrus in a doorway that looked like it led to the kitchens. He wore a sauce-splattered chef's uniform and carried a wooden spoon. The uniform was black with the sleeves torn off and his puffy chef's hat had a series of skulls embroidered around the band.

"Hi, Tenebrus," said Harry. "You work here?"

Harry was surprised. Of all the occupations he might have attributed to the gruff biker, being the chef at an expensive French restaurant was not among them.

"I don't just work here," said Tenebrus, a bit smugly. "I am Jean-Pierre!"

Tenebrus waved for the maître d' to come over and whispered in his ear for a few minutes as he gestured madly with his spoon. Afterwards, he motioned towards Harry and Ron and said, "These are special guests of mine. Make sure you treat them right."

"Of course, Mr. Devereaux."

After that the man dropped his disdainful manner and became the epitome of sycophantic servitude. He seated them at the best table in the restaurant and plied them complimentary drinks and appetizers.

It wasn't long before Sirius and Remus arrived. Harry immediately peppered him with questions but Sirius headed them off as he leisurely perused his menu. A few minutes later, a waiter came to their table to take their order. He soon returned with a bottle of wine and set of wine glasses.

"A gift, from Mr. Devereaux, by way of congratulations."

Sirius looked at the bottle's label and let out a low whistle, "Chateau Margeux. Well, thank you very much, Tenebrus."

Ron took one of the wine glasses and held it out to Sirius with a hopeful grin.

"Sirius!" admonished Remus as Sirius poured a Ron a glass.

"Oh! It's just a little," said Sirius, giving Harry a glass as well. "It's not going to hurt them."

"Superb bouquet," Ron said in a snooty voice as he sniffed his glass and took a big swallow. "Fruity, with a hint of Oak, I think. Good year, but I prefer the '86."

"Do you even know what you're talking about?" Harry asked, snickering.

"Nope!"

"Don't gulp it, boys," said Sirius, seeing them do just that. "That wine you're drinking costs hundreds. It's to be savored."

Harry nearly choked on his wine. It was all right, but in all honesty, he vastly preferred his three-dollar glass of root beer. Harry supposed he simply wasn't cultured enough to appreciate the finer things in life.

Ron, however, was appreciating it just fine. Though Harry had a feeling it wouldn't matter much to Ron if he were drinking an expensive French wine or a cheap bottle of Boone's Farm. When Sirius and Remus weren't looking, he exchanged his nearly full glass for Ron's empty one.

"Will you please stop teasing and tell us what we're celebrating?" asked Remus, letting out all the exasperation everyone was feeling.

Sirius smiled and sat down his glass. "Well, you are now looking at the newest student in Hogsmeade University's M.A.E program."

"You're going back to school?" This was not, at all, what Harry was expecting.

"How the hell did you manage that?" asked Remus, not quite believing it. "The new term starts on Monday and I know for a fact that the application process takes months."

"It's really amazing what you can accomplish when you're rich," said Sirius, his grin deepening.

"You bribed them!"

Sirius frowned at Remus. "I didn't buy my way in, if that's what you're implying. I'm not entirely stupid. I did graduate from Hogsmeade University with top honors, you know."

"I know," insisted Remus. "But that still doesn't explain how you got in so fast."

"Let's just say the admissions council was more than happy to expedite my application when I told them about the very generous endowment I was considering making to the school. A little something I like to call the Sirius Black Scholarship Fund."

Remus shook with laughter. "Sounds like something for studious African Americans."

"Ha! You're such a comedian."

"What's the M.A.E. program?" asked Harry.

"Master of Arts in Education," said Sirius.

"So you want to be a teacher? Just like Severus. I wonder what he'll think of that."

"That's what I was going to do, had I not been sent to prison. I loved school so much, I didn't want to leave."

"Don't see why. You spent most of it in detention."

"And you were right there with me, Remus." Sirius paused and looked at Ron. "Speaking of Severus…Ron, do you think Harry can stay at your house tomorrow night? Remus is going home tomorrow and I don't want Harry staying alone; especially with that old loon, Kreacher, lurking around."

Harry scowled. He wasn't seven for Christ's sake. Not that he cared if he had to stay with the Weasleys but he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Sometimes Sirius tended to be overly protective.

"Where will you be?"

"Well, I'll be at Severus' all night," said Sirius, grinning slyly. "He'll be in a very good mood when he gets home and I intend to take full advantage of it."

"I've never seen Mr. Snape in a good mood," said Ron. "Only the opposite."

"You probably never encountered him after he's been to his father's," said Sirius. "Severus all but worships him. Don't get it myself. I met Saul Snape once and he's one bastard of a man. But then, so is Severus."

00000000

Friday was payday at the firm. Harry wasn't expecting to get a check as he was only working there to pay off his fees for Shacklebolt's services, but shortly before he was to leave, Mrs. Glasser set one on his desk.

Harry picked it up and balked at the amount of his earnings. This couldn't possibly be right. He took his check and flagged down Shacklebolt, who was about to leave himself.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, there's been a mistake. Your fees weren't taken out of my pay."

Shacklebolt gave a nonchalant shrug. "Payroll must have forgotten."

"I can cash the check then give you the-"

"We'll just get it next time," interrupted Shacklebolt, as he headed for the doors.

Harry had the sneaking suspicion that payroll would 'forget' again next week. In fact, he suspected that payroll hadn't even been instructed to take anything out of his pay, but Harry thought it unwise to accuse his employer of lying. He'd find a way to pay Shacklebolt, even if he had to be underhanded about it.

Ron was waiting outside for Harry. He took Harry to Gringotts Bank to cash his check. Along the way, they passed the Hogsmeade Public Library and when Harry finished at the bank he asked Ron to take him there.

"Why do you want to check out some books?" asked Ron. "It's still summer vacation. I don't even want to look at a book until I absolutely have to. God knows we'll be reading enough as it is when school starts."

"I want to see if they have something," said Harry, as he got out of the car. "I'll be right back."

Inside the library, Harry found the card catalog. He looked up both Phoenix Descending and Rita Skeeter and came up with absolutely nothing. Harry had been sure that the library would have a copy, if only because the author was a local citizen. Perhaps he was missing something.

He noticed a female employee shelving books on the cases next to the card catalog. She looked to be about Harry's age and had a tremendous mass of bushy brown hair. The gold tag on her blouse bore the name, Hermione.

"Excuse me," said Harry. "I was wondering if you had a book called Phoenix Descending by Rita Skeeter. It's about the murders of James and Lily Potter."

"I know that book," said Hermione. "I'm sorry, but we don't carry those kinds of books."

"What do you mean, 'those kinds of books'?"

"You know, sensational true crime books," she said with distaste coloring her voice. "Complete garbage, if you ask me."

Well, no one asked you, Harry felt like saying. There was something about this girl that grated his every nerve.

"But, I suppose if you really must have it, you might be able get it through our inter-library loan program." Her tone easily conveyed that she thought the book wasn't worth the effort.

"Okay, I'll try that," said Harry.

Hermione sighed. "Follow me."

She took him to the circulation department and stood behind a computer. After some rapid typing, she said, "Yes, one of our sister libraries has the book in stock."

"How long would it take for the book to arrive?"

"Since it is so late in the day, the library wouldn't get the order until Monday. It really depends on how busy they are. I'd say next Friday, by the latest."

"I'd like to order it."

Hermione held out her hand. "I'll need your library card."

"Umm, I don't have one."

Hermione was obviously straining to not roll her eyes. "Well then, I guess you need to apply for one. Name?"

"Harry Potter."

She abruptly looked up from her computer.

"They were my parents," answered Harry, to her unasked question.

"Oh…" said Hermione, a blush appearing on her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't have-"

"Don't worry about it," said Harry, more curtly than he had intended.

Hermione's blush darkened. "Your address?"

After giving Hermione the rest of his information, Harry was in possession of a new library card.

"And how would you like to be notified when the book arrives? By phone or mail? You'll know sooner by phone."

"By mail." By phone might be quicker but there was a good chance that Sirius would take the call and Harry didn't want him knowing he was getting the book.

"Okay, we'll send you a letter as soon as we get the book in."

Harry nodded. He really wanted to remain and browse through the old newspapers, to see what information they might contain about his parents' murder. But, he couldn't keep Ron waiting. At the first opportunity, he'd be back.

"I thought you were getting a book," said Ron, seeing Harry return empty handed.

"They didn't have it," said Harry. "I had to order it from a different library."

"Ah," said Ron. "Well, we need to get home soon. Mom's throwing a little farewell dinner for the twins. They're moving into the dorms tomorrow."

Mrs. Weasley's little dinner turned out to be a full family function, with every Weasley sibling in attendance. Except for Percy, who had already left to attend Harvard.

The twins, though the guests of honor, were mostly ignored as all activity and discussion revolved around Bill, Fleur and their upcoming wedding. The only stand out was Ginny, who sat alone in a corner and continually sent scathing looks in Fleur's direction.

"Does Ginny not like Fleur?" Harry asked Ron as everyone sat in the living room, enjoying Mrs. Weasley's homemade apple pie.

"She's just mad because Fleur didn't ask her to be a bridesmaid," said Ron. "Said her hair clashes with the dresses."

"All the rest of us are in the wedding," said Fred, who came up beside Ron. "'S'not right to exclude Ginny. But George and I are working on something that's going to change that."

"What are you going to do?" asked Ron.

Fred grinned and shook his head. "Better to remain ignorant and innocent."

"Mom will kill you if you fuck up Bill's wedding!"

"We're not fucking it up. We're making it better."

It was pretty late when the party of Weasleys finally disbanded. Despite much pleading, Mrs. Weasley refused to let anyone go out as everyone needed to get up early in the morning and she didn't trust them to return at a decent hour.

Thoroughly put out by his captivity, Ron moped in his room. Ron wasn't very good company at the moment so Harry left him to his sulking and helped the twins with their last minute packing. Harry didn't mind having to stay in, but he would rather be at Grimmauld Place, talking to Draco on the phone.

Harry woke up just after dawn the next morning, Though the hour was early, all of the Weasleys were already wake and crowded around the kitchen table, fighting with each other for a bit of breakfast. Harry joined the battle long enough to grab some toast then went to shower and dress.

"No, no, no!" Mrs. Weasley was shrieking when he returned. The twins had begun moving their suitcases and boxes downstairs and had amassed a very large pile in the middle of the living room floor. "There is no need to take all of this! You won't even be a mile away!"

"We need this stuff, Mom!" said George, protectively clutching a black and white sombrero to his chest.

"Too bad! You have ten minutes to this junk back up to your room!"

"God! It's too early to listen to her squawking," said Ron, rubbing tiredly at his ears.

Eager to get away from the screaming Mrs. Weasley, Harry and Ron set out for Grimmauld Place and made plans to meet up later at the school festival.

Harry found Sirius in the kitchen. He sat at the table, clutching a cup of coffee with a bitter look on his face.

"Uh…last night didn't go as planned?" Harry asked.

"He left me, Harry," Sirius said sourly.

Harry felt the air go out of his lungs. He had been expecting it, but still…

"You and Severus broke-"

"No, Snuffles." Sirius spat the dog's name. "The second he saw Severus, he was out of here. He didn't even hesitate! But if that's he wants, then fine by me," said Sirius, in the indignant tones of a man done wrong. "I wash my hands of that flea bitten mutt!"

Sirius continued to fume and call Snuffles a litany of foul names. Harry bit his lip to quell his impending laughter. He knew that Sirius didn't really mean it. The next time Sirius saw Snuffles he would be panting after him like he always did.

"Well, we better head out," said Sirius, after a glance at the kitchen clock. "If we want to have any hope of getting a parking spot."

They rode their motorcycles into Hogsmeade. Though arriving early, Harry and Sirius had to park more than five blocks away as the school parking lot-the space needed for the festival--was blocked off.

Harry could hardly believe that, in less than a week, he would be starting school. He was actually feeling somewhat excited about it. Harry had come to realize that he had overreacted a little when Terry Boot first brushed him off. He knew he had friends and he wouldn't be the misfit outcast. But neither was he expecting instant popularity. He'd be somewhere in the middle. And for someone who had always been the social pariah, made to sit all by himself in the school cafeteria as Dudley and his friends spit paper wads into his food, being in the middle was pretty damn good.

As they came close to the school, Harry saw signs directing the new students and their parents to the auditorium, which was located in Gryffindor Hall. There was still half an hour before things were set to begin and many people loitered in the halls or in a large lounge like room that sat across from the auditorium.

That was where Harry and Sirius stood, as Sirius chatted with a few old friends and acquaintances he hadn't seen since before Azkaban. The room was known as the Lion's Den, according to Sirius, and served as the study hall and all around meeting place for Gryffindor students. Several round tables and cushy red and gold chairs were situated throughout. The walls were adorned with student created artwork and the floor was made from thousands of tiny tiles. In the center of the floor there was a mosaic emblem of a large red G. On the bottom curve of that letter laid a ferocious looking lion.

About fifteen minutes later, the crowd began to move into the auditorium. Harry and Sirius found seats a few rows from the stage. In the row in front of them was Hermione, the bushy haired girl he had met at the library just the day before. Beside her sat a younger girl with equally bushy hair though hers was jet black. The younger girl was being loud and generally obnoxious as she cried out to her friends across the auditorium.

"Stacia!" snapped Hermione, with a hand pressed to her forehead. "Shut up or we will leave right now!"

Stacia stuck out her tongue and turned her attentions to Harry. She batted her eyelashes and flipped her hair back as she tried to interrogate him. Hermione gave Harry an apologetic shrug.

"So…you're a senior…" Stacia said in a voice that was supposed to be sultry but came across as though she had a frog in her throat.

"Just tell her you're gay," whispered Sirius, who was watching the proceedings with vast amusement.

"Excuse me," A girlish voice came the aisle. She was young, obviously a freshman, and looked lost. She shyly eyed the seat next to Harry, one of the few empty spots left in the crowded auditorium. "Is someone sitting there?"

Harry shook his head and the girl took the seat with a little relief.

Stacia had witness the exchange and looked at the girl with frank curiosity.

"Who are you?" she asked. "I never saw you at the Junior High."

"Natalie MacDonald. I just moved here."

"Oh," said Stacia, her interest already waning, though she did examine Natalie from head to toe and let out a superior sounding giggle before turning back to Harry.

Harry knew why the girl had laughed. As did Natalie, it seemed, because her face crumbled as she patted down the front of her unfashionable, frosted denim outfit. She sunk into her seat, as though she were trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible.

Stacia had only annoyed him before but now he felt an additional dislike for her. He had known people like her all his life. People who thought you weren't worth anything unless you had the trendiest clothes or hung out with the coolest people.

In a show of rudeness Harry hadn't realized he was capable of, he cut off Stacia, who had begun talking to him again, and to Natalie, said, "Hi, I just moved here, too. Where are you from?"

Natalie seemed surprised that Harry was talking to her but answered anyway.

"I was last in L.A.," she said softly.

"The City of Angels," said Harry. "Why would anyone want to move from sunny California to the miserable Midwest?"

"Well, my mom and I move around a lot," said Natalie, who was easing into the conversation. "We never stay in one place for long."

Harry didn't know quite what to say to her, but continued the discussion, nonetheless. He felt gratified as Natalie looked less and less like she wanted to flee and have a good cry.

A short while later, Mr. Dumbledore appeared on stage at the podium and the dim roar of the audience faded into silence. With him were four teachers who sat on chairs next to the podium. Harry recognized Mrs. McGonagall, and Severus. Harry thought Severus looked very odd in a white button down shirt and tie. All traces of the cowboy were gone but for the boots poking out from under his black dress trousers.

For the next half hour or so, Harry was treated to a slight variation of the same speech Mr. Dumbledore had given him when he first registered for school. Then the teachers, each of them coordinators for the four groups of the school went to the podium and gave a brief overview of their section.

First was Mrs. McGonagall, coordinator for the Gryffindors, those students who displayed an interest or talent in the fine arts, literature and language.

Next came Mr. Flitwick, the Civics teacher. He was an older man who was so short he needed to stand on a box to reach the microphone. Mr. Flitwick was in charge of Ravenclaw, which specialized in the social sciences.

Mrs. Sprout, a plump, hearty woman, taught Agricultural Science and was head of Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff was a mish mash of several subjects; all of them applied classes, in which students often received real work experience.

And, finally, there was Severus. His speech about Slytherin and the math and science classes was the shortest. He spoke in a bored, efficient manner that suggested he had given the very same speech numerous times in the past.

Following the speeches, juice and cookies were served in the cafeteria so that students and parents could meet and mingle with the teachers.

Unsurprisingly, Sirius immediately cornered Severus and hammered him with irrelevant questions about Harry's Honors Chemistry class. Severus must have truly been in a good mood as he took Sirius' inquiries with a calm, detached professionalism no matter how asinine the questions.

It wasn't until this moment that Harry realized that he had never seen Sirius and Severus interact in public. Harry knew Severus would never acknowledge Sirius as his boyfriend but he didn't expect them both to be so distant, acting as if they barely knew each other.

The charade was shattered when Mr. Dumbledore bounded over to them, clapped Sirius on the back and said, "Sirius! Congratulations, my boy! I heard you've been accepted into the M.A.E program." He paused and a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. "You know, one of our substitute teachers quit this summer and we've yet to replace her. I think you'd be perfect for the job."

A sharp intake of breath came from Severus. "It's finally happened, Albus!"

Mr. Dumbledore's white eyebrows lifted in surprise and confusion. "What? What's happened?"

"You've lost your last marble!" snarled Severus, his face growing red. "This man is not qualified to teach!"

"Oh, pish posh," Mr. Dumbledore said calmly. "You know the requirements for subs are much less than that for regular teachers."

"Be that as it may, I don't think the parents of Hogsmeade would want a man who just spent sixteen years in prison for murder teaching their children!"

Harry's mouth fell open and Sirius was about to angrily reply but Mr. Dumbledore beat him to it.

"Severus! You know better than most that Sirius was completely innocent of those charges!"

"And what of his very recent arrest for assault and battery?"

"Oh…that…" mused the principal as he stroked his beard. "I believe all charges were dropped, so as far as we're concerned, it never even happened." Mr. Dumbledore smiled again at Sirius. "If you're interested, come by my office next week and I'll help you fill out the paperwork."

"You come back here, Albus!" exclaimed Severus as Mr. Dumbledore headed towards a long table laden with trays of cookies.

"Later," Mr. Dumbledore said airily, waving a hand. "They've just set out the pecan macaroons and I must beat the crowd."

Severus glared at the principal's back, looking incredibly betrayed. "Don't you even consider it," he said in a deadly whisper, his black eyes glittering with malice.

"You wanted me to get a job," Sirius said flippantly.

"I hardly meant-" Severus broke off, letting out something between a scream and a hiss, and stormed away.

"Well…Severus' good mood just got pissed on," said Sirius.

Harry nodded. "I think you'll be sleeping alone tonight."

"Eh," said Sirius, shrugging. "He'll get over it."

0000000

Being good hadn't worked at all. Five days of irreproachable behavior had resulted in absolutely nothing. Undeterred, he had turned to whining and complaining, which only earned him a fifty percent decrease in his weekly allowance. In the end, Draco employed his final weapon.

Silent treatment.

It had been exactly four days, two hours and seventeen minutes since he had last spoken to either of his parents.

Lucius, being the cold, unfeeling bastard that he was, didn't seem to care at all. Narcissa, however, grew increasingly teary-eyed every time her son completely ignored her.

She would snap soon, Draco was sure of it. He'd make sure of it.

"Draco, sweetie," said Narcissa as she stood in the open doorway of his bedroom. "Yoour father is waiting for us."

Draco continued reading his book as if he hadn't heard a thing. After a long pause, he looked up at his mother. Hope shone in Narcissa's eyes when Draco opened his mouth to speak. He quickly clamped his lips shut and turned his head.

There, that ought to do it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Narcissa's lips were trembling. "All right!" she said with a sob in her voice. "I'll talk to him."

Draco smiled behind his book. Lucius Malfoy might have thought he wore the pants in the family but he was sorely mistaken. Narcissa had her husband tightly wound around her little finger.

They were to go to the 33rd Annual Back to School Blast this afternoon. Normally, Draco tried, and failed, to get out of it. He always thought the functions were so very lame.

But Lucius loved attending them; brushing elbows with the local constituents, and acting like he was one of them. Never mind that he was a powerful U.S Senator, one of the richest men in the Midwest, and responsible for the employment of more than twenty percent of the community. During these times, he was simply 'Lucius', a Hogsmeade resident out to have a fun, wholesome time with his family.

Naturally, it was a big fucking farce. The politician in Lucius was always on. Every public event was another chance to be seen. Another chance to snag votes come election year.

Draco hadn't attempted to get out of going this time. That would have required him to talk to his parents. Plus, he had known Harry would be there. He wanted to see Harry, even if it had to be at some pathetic school carnival.

His father was standing alone by the entry doors in the foyer. Going along with his "I'm just a regular guy" persona, Lucius had left his usual power suit in the closet, donning a polo shirt and pair of khakis, instead.

Lucius' cool eyes stayed level on his son as Draco silently joined him and pretended intense interest in the swirled patterns on the marble floor.

A gasp from Lucius made Draco look up.

Only minutes before, Narcissa had been every bit the prim and proper Senator's wife, in an elegant but casual blue pantsuit. Now, as she slowly descended the steps, a dark red, spaghetti-strapped dress hugged her body. Her hair fell in a golden cascade down her back.

"Cissa!" hissed Lucius. "You wore the red Armani..." His voice lowered into a husky purr. "You know what that dress does to me."

Narcissa tucked her chin into her shoulder with a demure smile. She held out a hand to Lucius who kissed the palm and ran his lips up to the crook of her elbow. His cane clattered to the floor as he picked up his wife and carried her up the stairs.

Draco took a seat. This was going to take awhile.

Two and half hours later, Draco was starting to get annoyed. Did they have to be so damn thorough in the matter? A simple wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am would have sufficed for anyone.

But not Lucius and Narcissa. They never did anything by halves.

He had moved to the room off the library that housed his coins. Finally, just after he had finished cataloging the latest of his collection, Narcissa swept into the room, looking flushed and well sated. She was once again in her pantsuit and her hair had been pulled back into a simple knot at the back of her head.

"It's time to go," she said.

Draco, of course, ignored her.

"Your curfew has been lifted."

And about damn time too!

He really ought to let her suffer a little longer; after all, she could have intervened on his behalf much sooner. But…

What the hell.

"Thank you, Mother."

Narcissa beamed.

Lucius drove them to the high school in one of their older cars, a shiny black Lincoln that was actually quite luxurious inside but, outwardly, did not give the impression of too much wealth. It was nearing four o'clock by the time they arrived and Draco hoped Harry hadn't left already.

Draco was forced to admit that the school had gone all out this year. Where once there had been a football field, school parking lot and surrounding fields, there were now dozens upon dozens of game booths, concession stands, and carnival rides. It seemed as if everyone in Hogsmeade had shown up for the event.

For the first half hour, Draco played the dutiful son, shaking hands and smiling his face off as Lucius schmoozed his way through the crowds. All the while he kept an attentive eye out for Harry.

At long last, he spotted Harry with the Weasel. Both of them were at a booth, throwing beanbags at lead-filled milk bottles. One pitiful, pouty-lipped look at Narcissa was all it took for Draco to gain his freedom.

He strolled, unhurriedly, to Harry, not wanting to appear overeager.

Just as he was approaching, Harry knocked the milk bottles down and was rewarded with a large, neon pink teddy bear, which he promptly handed over to a young girl in an exceptionally revolting denim ensemble that hadn't been in fashion since 1987, if even then.

"Thank you, Harry!" the girl gushed.

Ron noticed Draco first and groaned his displeasure.

"Your friend is here."

"Huh?" said Harry, turning around. "Oh, hi! I was worried you weren't-"

"Hey, Harry, I'm going to go get something to eat," Ron interjected, clearly desiring to remove himself from Draco's presence.

Draco didn't mind the implied insult. Getting rid of the boy had been first on his list. Now he just had to do something with the girl who couldn't keep her eyes off Harry. Thankfully, Harry did it for him.

"Uhh…Hey, Natalie," Harry said. "I'll see you around, okay?"

Natalie nodded as she hugged her pink teddy bear.

"Looks like you got yourself a new girlfriend," teased Draco as they walked away from the booth.

"Jealous?" asked Harry, grinning. "I met her earlier. She's been tagging along after me all day." His smile suddenly dropped into a frown. "I hope I didn't give her the wrong idea or anything. I was only trying to be nice."

"Well, this ought to set her straight," said Draco, suddenly turning to Harry and giving him a long kiss on the mouth.

When they broke apart Harry was blushing and looking around.

"People are staring at us," he said, unmistakably embarrassed.

"People are going to stare at you when you're with a Malfoy. They're always interested in what we're doing."

The statement reeked of arrogance, Draco knew, but it was also the truth. Being a member of such a prominent family came with its disadvantages. It was a situation that had annoyed him immensely until he learned to use it for his own amusement, taking great joy in scandalizing those nosy individuals who insisted on watching his every move. If they were going to look, then he'd give them something to look at.

"I'll have to get used to it then."

Draco liked the way Harry said that. It gave their relationship a sort of permanence. As if Harry expected to be with him for some time. He was suddenly filled with images of them old and wrinkled, chasing each other around Malfoy Estates in matching wheelchairs.

He shook the visions away. What was he, a thirteen-year-old girl?

Next he'd be doodling 'Draco Potter' all over his notebooks.

"Draco," said Harry, waving a hand in front of Draco's face. "Are you there?"

"Sorry, got distracted."

"Oh. I asked if you had to leave at five."

Draco smiled. "Nope! I can stay out as late as I want now."

He pulled Harry towards a small tent covered in jewel colored fabrics. "Come on, Ms. Trelawnley has her booth up again this year. It's the best thing here. We'll get her to do both of us."

"Isn't she the art teacher? Does she do portraits or something?"

"Nope," said Draco. "She's a psychic!"

"Psychic?" said Harry, unable to stifle a laugh. "Do you really believe in all that?"

"She's the real thing," insisted Draco. "When I went to the festival in the ten grade, she told me to avoid Beauxbatons Boulevard during the Ides of September, but I didn't listen to her, and bad things happened."

"What?"

"I got hit by a car. I was in a coma for a week and my arms were broken in three different places. I had to go physical therapy for over a year."

"That's awful! Did the person who hit you get in trouble?"

"The courts decided it wasn't his fault, and didn't do anything to him….but Father did," he added with a cryptic smile.

Outside the tent stood a wisp of a woman in a long, flowing dress. A pair of large glasses magnified her eyes to an unsettling degree, giving her a bug-like appearance.

"Oh, no, Mr. Malfoy," said Ms. Trelawnley, wariness in her misty voice. "Not you again. You know I dislike reading for you. Everything about you is off-kilter. It clouds my inner eye."

"Please?" pleaded Draco but Ms. Trelawnley was absolute in her refusal. "Well, at least give Harry a reading."

She fiddled the numerous silver bracelets on her wrists as she inspected Harry. After a long pause, she nodded.

Draco started to follow them inside but Ms. Trelawnley blocked his path. "Just him. You stay put."

Ten minutes later, Harry came out of the tent looking very skeptical.

"What did she say?" Draco demanded without haste.

"That I have been marked." Harry raised a hand to his scar as he said this. "And a lot of confusing stuff about seeing myself outside of the mirror. Oh and she said that to save the one I love I must not love them back. That's silly. How can I not love someone I already love?"

Draco could only shrug in answer. "Was there anything else? You were in there for a while."

"Eh, nothing important," Harry said.

"Oh, there was something."

"Really, it's nothing. Besides, I don't believe in any of it, anyway."

That's what Harry said, but Draco could detect a great amount of discomfort in the boy. He wondered what Ms. Trelawnley could have possibly said to bother Harry so much. But Harry wasn't telling and he quickly changed the subject.

"Let's go ride something," said Harry. "I haven't hit the Ferris Wheel yet."

Draco had never seen anyone get so excited over something as simple, and in his opinion, as boring, as the Ferris Wheel. Harry approached the carnival ride, and the many others that followed, with such a child-like exuberance that Draco suspected it was a new experience for him. And given what Draco knew of Harry's past, it probably was.

Knowing this, Draco did not want to stomp on Harry's fun and he tried not to let his boredom show. It was much easier than he'd thought it'd be. Harry's excitement was highly contagious and Draco found it catching.

"God, I think I'm going to get sick," said Harry, near green with queasiness after their seventh trip on the tilt-a-world.

"I told you not to eat all that cotton candy," scolded Draco. "Come on, let's take a break."

Wanting a little privacy, they went to a small grove of trees that was a good distance away from the hustle and bustle of the carnival. Draco sat with his back against a tree. Harry was between his legs, leaning against him.

"Feel better?" asked Draco as he rubbed soothing circles on Harry's stomach. Draco wondered what Harry would do if he let his hand travel a little lower. Tempted as he was, Draco didn't dare. There were quite a few people still about and though that appealed to his exhibitionist side, Lucius would kill him if he were caught doing anything inappropriate.

"God! Get a fucking room!"

"Why, hello, Blaise," said Draco, annoyed, as the girl came into view.

"Someone told me there were a couple of boys making out over here. I knew it'd be you two."

"We weren't making out."

"Yeah, that's why Harry is sitting on your lap with a big fucking hard-on," said Blaise, eliciting a gasp from Harry.

Curious, Draco looked over Harry's shoulder. There was a great deal of tenting, indeed. Draco was inordinately pleased with himself, to have that effect on Harry through a bit of innocuous touching.

"Don't bother hiding it," Blaise said blithely as Harry lifted his knees to his chest. "I've already seen."

"Why are you here annoying us?"

"Hey, be glad it's me!" said Blaise. "It could have been your dad. He was looking for you so y'all can go home. I told him I'd give you a ride since I'm already going over to Theodore's house. A shame you're grounded. He's having a party tonight."

"I'm not anymore. And Theodore never told me about a party." Draco felt extremely irritated at being left out of the loop.

"That's cuz he doesn't know yet."

"Won't he get mad when a bunch of people show up at his house, uninvited?" asked Harry.

"Nah, he's used to it," said Blaise. "Besides, it's just a small gathering. I'm gonna head over there now, if you want to go."

Draco preferred his other plans for the night. Plans that involved getting Harry alone and taking care of the still present bulge in Harry's pants. But, Harry had perked up at the mention of a party and Draco did want him to meet Theodore.

His hold on Harry was unnecessarily tight as they zoomed through Hogsmeade on Harry's motorcycle. Well, not zoomed, as Harry went at a snail's pace, stopping at almost every block to ask if Draco was still okay.

Draco was more than okay, being pressed so closely to Harry. He lamented that it only took a few minutes to reach Theodore's house. Riding with Harry was something Draco could have done for hours.

Theodore Nott lived in the same wealthy neighborhood as Draco. In fact, if Draco strained his neck just so, he'd be able to see the rooftops of Malfoy Estates in the distance. They were the first to arrive and though being fashionably late was best, Draco thought Theodore might appreciate a little warning that his house was about to be invaded.

The Nott's housekeeper, a grandmotherly woman Draco only knew as Mama Lou answered their knock and led them to library. Inside, a tall, reedy boy with a glumy expression sat in a leather armchair, staring pensively into a roaring fireplace. His black hair was severely parted and slicked to the side. He wore brown corduroy pants and an argyle sweater that was matched perfectly to his socks. Dozing in a wheelchair next to him was a very old man bundled up in a thick blue robe.

"It's a bit much, to have a fire going in the summer, don't you think?" asked Draco, wiping his brow as he walked inside sweltering room with Harry following closely behind.

"Father chills easily." Theodore grabbed a small black remote and aimed it at the fireplace. The flames instantly disappeared. "Happy now?" he asked then looked pointedly at Harry and then at Draco. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Oh! Harry this is Theodore Nott. Theodore, Harry Pot-."

A burst of loud laughter from the hall interrupted the introductions.

"Who was that?" asked Theodore.

"Probably Blaise," said Draco. "You're having a party tonight, by the way."

"Am I?" Theodore glanced at the elderly Mr. Nott. "Good thing I already knocked Father out with a couple of sleeping pills." He stood and wheeled his sleeping father towards the library's doors. "I'll be back. I need to put Father to bed and give Mama Lou the night off before too many people arrive."

"Is that really his dad?" Harry asked incredulously, once Theodore was out of earshot.

Draco nodded and pointed to a larger than life portrait that hung above the fireplace. Its subject was a young woman who had short black hair and vivid blue eyes that were almost striking enough to call attention away from the fact that the rest of her face greatly resembled a pug. "That's his mom. My father said she only married Mr. Nott for his money. She died of heart disease when Theodore was two. It's just been him and his dad ever since."

"Talking about Theodore?" asked Blaise as she bounced into the library and went directly to the well-stocked bar to select several bottles of liquor.

"Yeah."

"Poor boy," said Blaise. "Always stuck here, changing his dad's diapers. Fortunately, he has good friends like us who are willing bring the fun and excitement right to his door."

"Not to mention it's pretty convenient to have parties here since Mr. Nott is usually out of it."

"Well, that too."

Blaise might have only invited a few people over, but as these things usually go, once word of a party gets out, everybody eventually shows up. Tonight was no different. Within half an hour, Theodore's house was packed with teenagers, all of them eager to dance, drink, and party themselves into oblivion before the daily grind of classes and homework began on Monday.

Harry seemed to be enjoying himself; too much for Draco's liking. With a great deal of help from the mysterious concoction Blaise had put in the punch bowl, Harry's inhibitions rapidly fell one by one. As the night progressed, he went from being a shy, quiet boy, rarely leaving Draco's side to laughing and chatting with anyone and everyone.

And the dancing.

The dancing!

Where the fuck had that come from? It was not a skill Draco would have thought Harry possessed. Harry had tried to pull Draco out onto the floor but Draco simply did not dance. He had two left feet and knew better than to make himself look like a fool. Harry, however, was a regular Fred Astaire. And how the girls noticed. They all but lined up for a dance and Harry was too nice to say no.

"Playing the wallflower?" Ron Weasley asked snidely as he took a seat next to Draco.

"I'm keeping on eye on Harry," snapped Draco as he watched Morag MacDougal bump and grind against Harry. The little bitch. As if she stood a chance. "I wouldn't put it past any of these sluts to try to take advantage of his drunken state."

Damn it, if anyone was going to take advantage of Harry tonight, it was going to be him.

"It's not the girls you ought to be worrying about," said Ron. "You're not the only one that's been watching Harry all night."

"Who?"

Ron pointed to a corner where a group of dazed people sat together, sharing a rolled joint. Among them was a short boy in faded army fatigue pants and a black t-shirt. Longish brown hair in bad need of a cut obscured much of his eyes but it was clear they were planted squarely on Harry.

"Why is Neville staring at Harry?" asked Draco before his mind supplied the answer. "Shit. I forgot."

"You forgot? How could you forget something like that?"

"Well, I'm sorry! Unlike some people it's not the first thing I think about when I see Neville."

"Personally, I think it's really fucking creepy for him to look at Harry like that," said Ron. "There's going to be trouble, I can feel it."

"What? You think Neville would try to hurt Harry?"

"Are you kidding me?" asked Ron. "Of course he would. Longbottom is fucking deranged, just like his parents. His own grandmother was so terrified of him, she kicked him out."

"That's not how it happened."

"You're going to defend him?" Ron asked as he angrily stood up. "Oh, I remember, the little bastard is your friend! I thought you'd be on Harry's side on this."

"I am!" spat Draco. "I'm just saying Neville's grandmother didn't kick him out. He left on his own." Draco paused. "Do you think Harry knows about Neville?"

"Nope. He's going to find out soon enough when school starts. I figure it will be better to hear about it from someone he knows."

"What about Sirius?"

Ron shrugged. "I doubt Sirius knows either, since he's been locked up so long. Though Mr. Snape might have told him."

"We can't tell him tonight."

"No. I was thinking of doing it tomorrow." Ron looked guardedly at Draco. "I'd rather not do it alone."

"Nasty habit, we've developed, teaming up for the sake of Harry," said Draco. "Speaking of, where did he go?"

In the few moments he had taken his eyes off Harry, the boy had managed to completely disappear. And so had Neville Longbottom, for that matter.

Draco felt a wave of panic course through his veins as he and Ron began searching for Harry. Neville would not hurt him, Draco tried to reassure himself. He was just letting Weasley get to him.

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A bit of fresh air had seemed like a good idea at the time. But when Harry stepped out onto the Nott's patio he was met with another boy who was currently spilling his guts into a flowerbed. The retching sounds and scent of vomit activated Harry's nausea and in short time he had joined the boy, getting a lovely view of his own stomach's contents.

Puking was a fairly exhausting experience and afterwards Harry could do little but sit on the ground and hold his aching stomach. God, how pathetic was he, to be so drunk from a single cup of spiked punch.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked when the other boy began to dry-heave.

"I'm fine," the boy rasped sullenly, after a pause. He plopped on the ground and regarded Harry with hardened eyes. "Harry Potter."

Harry flinched at the anger in the boy's voice.

"Fuck!" he continued. "Why did you have move back, here? It's just bringing everything up again."

"Bring what up again?" Harry asked, his anxiety shifting into confusion.

"Fucking forget it," said the boy. He rose unsteadily to his feet and tried to take a step but stumbled right on top of Harry.

"Get off him, Longbottom!" Ron Weasley shouted, appearing out of nowhere and pulling the boy off Harry.

"What are you doing, Neville?" Draco asked in shock.

"Let me go!" yelled Neville, struggling to free himself from Ron's strong grip.

"Right," said Ron, strengthening his hold. "So you can attack Harry again? I don't fucking think so."

Harry's confusion grew exponentially by the second. "He didn't attack me," Harry said, but was ignored.

"Yeah, because like father, like son, Weasley? Isn't that how it goes?" Neville chuckled; a low, mad-sounding chuckle. "Who knows? Maybe it fucking does."

"Don't, Neville," said Draco, softly. "This isn't you."

"Of course, this is me," said Neville, turning bright eyes to Draco. "Everyone says so and everyone must be right."

"Just get the fuck out of here," growled Ron as he released Neville.

Neville gave Harry one final, hate-filled glare before storming into the house.

"What the hell is going on?" demanded Harry.

Ron and Draco turned their attention to Harry, their faces clouded with uncertainty.

"Well, Harry," said Ron. "We weren't going to tell you until tomorrow but-"

"Let me do it," interrupted Draco. "You're just going to fuck it up."

Draco sat on the ground across Harry and took both of his hands into his own. He opened his mouth several times to speak but nothing came out.

"Fine job, you're doing, Malfoy!"

"Fuck off, Weasley, I'm thinking!" snarled Draco. "This isn't easy!"

"What isn't easy?" pleaded Harry. There was something very strange going on. Something that involved him and that boy who seemed to hate him so much. Harry looked back and forth between Draco and Ron. "Will someone please just tell me something?"

"Harry," began Draco, in that soft, soothing kind of voice that usually meant bad news was to be delivered. "Umm, what exactly do you know about, umm, your parents' murder?"

"What does Neville have to do with that?" asked Harry, completely flabbergasted by the unexpected question.

"Everything!" said Ron.

"Nothing!" argued Draco. "But, it's all related, I guess. Well?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Just…just what Sirius told me. That a cult called the Order of the Phoenix had targeted my family for some sacrifice. Their leader stabbed my father while his followers shot my mother. I was somehow spared…But how could Neville be involved with that?"

"He wasn't," said Draco, quickly. "But his parents were. They were in the cult and they were there at Godric's Hollow when your parents were murdered. It was Neville's father that shot your mother but his mother was charged as well, as an accomplice."

"So…Neville's parents are in prison for murdering mine?"

"Well, they didn't actually go to prison," said Draco. "They're in an asylum and they haven't spoken in sixteen years. Something happened that night that made them both go completely crazy. No one knows what."

"I say they were crazy all along, to be involved in some fucking cult," piped in Ron. "And Neville is no different. You saw how he was tonight."

"Look, Harry," said Draco. "Neville isn't that bad. Really. He was just drunk. And high. And I think it was probably freaking him out to see you."

"There you go again!" exclaimed Ron. "Taking up for him! Don't listen to him, Harry. Neville is fucking insane. Must be something in the blood!"

Harry tuned them both out, his head spinning. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel about this. And with the alcohol still hazing his brain, it was all too much to process at the moment. Harry did know that he didn't particularly care to listen to Draco and Ron argue over Neville Longbottom's sanity, or lack there of.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Harry sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "I want to go home."

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Closing A/N: Yay! You finally met Hermione! I have been wanting to introduce her into the fic for a long time but I couldn't fit her in until now. Also, in case you are wondering, the reason I made Theodore's father so old was because it's quasi-canon. JKR has said on her website that Mr. Nott is a "very elderly widower". It went well with what I already had planned for Theodore so I decided to incorporate it in. I'm just mentioning it because I know that part seemed a little odd.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you thought, good or bad. And remember, if you want to be notified of updates you can add me to your author alert on or keep an eye on my LJ at:

Also, as part of a meme that was floating around on LJ, I have posted ten pieces of unknown information about Repetitions and the universe it is set in. Some of them are spoilers and may tell you more than you want to know about things to come. If you do decide to take a look and want to discuss them, please do so at my LJ and not on the reviews boards as to not ruin it for those who do not wish to be spoiled. You can find that post here:

And I almost forgot. Inspired by the new C2 function at I decided to change my "favorites" list as a listing of non-magic AUs. If you liked Repetitions you might like some of the other stories that have a similar premise. You can find them by looking at my profile and clicking on the

Take a look and if you have the time, please let me know of any stories I might have missed. The only requirement is that they are mugglized AUs.