I know I've been on a really long hiatus, but for anyone interested, here's an update on this story.

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Chapter five: Quality Time With Harry

Dumbledore had said Harry was to arrive around ten o'clock the next morning. Why anyone would wake up at ten in the morning during vacation was beyond Draco, but he supposed he had to make an exception, as he'd practically been ordered to meet him when he arrived. He was traveling by Floo powder from the Weasley's home, and would be accompanied by Mr. Weasley, as that was the only Weasley Draco intended to welcome into his home, even if it was only for a short period of time.

Dressed immaculately in his classy but casual outfit of black leather pants, flowing silk silver shirt, and billowing black cloak, with the intention of intimidating Harry, he sat in a chair near the fireplace, waiting. The Grandfather clock struck ten, then ten thirty. Growing impatient, Draco stood and began to pace, running his hand through his slightly shaggy hair every now and then. The nerve of him, he thought angrily. I have things to do. I could be asleep. Harry still hadn't shown up by ten forty-five, and Draco decided that if Harry didn't show by eleven, he'd be released from his duty. For all he knew, Harry had traveled to one of the other fireplaces in the manor. His thoughts were interrupted by a rustling noise near the fireplace. Turning, he saw Harry step out, surprisingly taller than he'd been just three weeks before and tan from the sun. Brushing soot off his clothes inconsiderately, Harry glanced around the room and then locked eyes with Draco.

"You're an hour late," Draco sneered, annoyed beyond the cold politeness he'd intended to receive Harry with. "I have more important things to do than wait on you to show up."

"Am not," Harry snapped, looking as happy with the summer arrangements as Draco felt. "I'm early, it's only nine fifty-five. Besides, what could you possibly have to do that's of even slight importance to me?" There was more noise by the fireplace and out stepped Mr. Weasley with Harry's trunk, but he went unnoticed.

Draco's eyes blazed, but he remained cool as he drawled lazily, "It is almost eleven, Potter. What are you going on about?"

"Ah," Mr. Weasley interceded, looking from the Grandfather clock to his watch. "It seems the times are different here than they are at the Burrow. Sorry if we made you wait."

"Sure, whatever," he said, still glaring at Harry, not really hearing Mr. Weasley. "Pricilla will show you to your room, Potter. Lunch is in an hour and a half, be there. If you need anything, just shout. Someone might hear you." With that, Draco left, intending to get in a good solid workout before lunch, work off some of his energy. After changing to less important clothes, he walked out into the bright sunshine, and hopping onto his horse, Flame, let all his problems float away.

Lunch was silent and uneventful, with Harry at one end of the long table and Draco at the other. Draco sniggered to himself, knowing this was not what Dumbledore had intended. As long as the rest of summer goes like this, I think I'll survive.

However, Draco had forgotten the appointed guardian, Arabella Figg, who showed up right after lunch. She was young and witty, the laughter in her eyes mocking the stern look on her face. Blonde and short, she looked no older than mid-thirties. Glancing at Harry, Draco saw him gaping at their new guardian. "Close your mouth, Potter," he taunted harshly. "If I didn't know any better I'd think this was the first girl you'd ever seen in your life."

"No, it's not that," Harry said, blushing slightly at Draco's implications, shock pushing the venom from his voice. "It's just…Mrs. Figg?"

"Actually, Harry darling, it's Miss Figg." Darling? Draco wondered.

"But you look…different." He stuttered.

"Of course I do. I'm not in disguise anymore. Let me tell you, I've learned to loathe the taste of Polyjuice Potion."

"So you're a witch then?" Harry still seemed puzzled.

"Pretty much, yeah." The young witch turned, focusing her attention on Draco. "So, this is the master of the house." She winked roguishly. "You guys can call me Bella, if you want."

"All right, then, Bella. May I give you a tour of my manor?" Draco asked sweetly, turning on the charm and completely ignoring Harry.

"Sure, if you're done. Would you like to come, Harry?" she asked the black-haired boy, who still seemed shaken.

"No that's okay, Mrs. Figg…I mean, Bella. I'll catch up with you later."

"Be in the study at three, Harry." She took Draco's offered arm, and they left Harry to finish his meal in peace.

Draco finished the tour by quarter till, and as Bella had informed Harry to be there by three, she decided they'd better head back towards the study. Slightly bored and more than vaguely curious about the reason of this meeting, he strolled confidently back towards the center of the manor, conversing politely with his guardian. Pretty, he decided, but not my type and too much of an age gap, though you wouldn't be able to tell from her features.

They arrived shortly before Harry and Draco decided to sit behind the desk, glancing around. No longer a place to fear, the room seemed cozy, if only a little, and for Malfoy Manor that was saying something. Draco loved books, something he tried in earnest to hide, but he couldn't stop himself from gazing at the books on his father's bookcase, yearning to open them and learn their secrets.

"What's with the glazed look, Malfoy? Are you actually having a thought?" Harry scowled at him, his voice announcing his presence.

"I'm sure I have more thoughts than you do, Potter. Unlike some people, I use my mind. Must be my pure blood." Draco winced inwardly. Old habits died hard, he knew, but did he really have to mention that? Sarcasm was part of his personality, as much a part of him as his eye color. However, focusing on pure blood was not a natural trait but a learned one, and he was determined to fix this practiced flaw.

Harry's face reddened, and his fists clenched at his side. Before he could respond, though, Bella stepped between them. "Boys," she said, glaring at both of them. "I suggest you cool it. Harry, have a seat. I knew this was going to be difficult." She sighed. "Okay. As you know, besides designated mealtimes, you are also commanded to spend at least one hour together a day. Each day, after the hour is done, in which you both will interact, you will designate something to do for the next day, and so it goes until you leave for Hogwarts. Be civil during these times, if not during others. So…what is it you would like to do today?"

Draco's temper had calmed and he seriously considered this. Quality time with Harry? That was a laugh. After Harry had thrust his offer of friendship back in his face that one fateful day, he'd resolved to hate him. Now they were being forced to act as friends after five years of feuding. Man, was fate ever a punch in the gut. He looked up to find Harry's eerie green eyes on his, seeming to know his thoughts and agreeing.

"What do you think Draco?" Bella questioned finally breaking the silence.

"Quidditch?" he offered finally, unable to think of anything else he and Harry would have in common. Harry's face brightened immediately and he nodded. Bella smiled at this, and surprised them both.

"You know, I used to play Quidditch. I only played for my house though, and I wasn't very good. Ah, well. You boys can fetch you brooms, and meet me outside. Do you have a pitch, Draco?"

"Yeah. How bout we meet there?"

"Sure." She turned, rushing down the hall towards her quarters.

"D'you reckon she plans to join us in the air?" Harry asked, still having a hard time getting over the young Miss Figg.

"I don't reckon, with that twinkle in her eye- I know." Draco heaved himself out of his chair and followed Harry out of the room. "So," he began cautiously after a few moments of silence. "Where's your room at?"

Harry looked at him a moment. "Why?" he asked warily, even more so than Draco.

"Look, I was just trying to be nice," Draco said curtly, annoyed.

"Nice?" Harry repeated faintly, shock registering on his face.

"Yeah. Excuse me for even daring to breath in front of the great Harry Potter. I shan't do it again, Highness." Turning sharply, he growled a password and disappeared through a secret passage. Annoyed with himself, he trudged back to his rooms, and retrieved his broom, walking slower than usual. What was I doing? He asked himself. What the hell did I think I was doing?

Luckily, Harry didn't mention their brief conversation in the hallway and the hour went by quickly and smoothly. Bella released a special Snitch made for shorter games, and after ten minutes Harry caught it. It was released again almost immediately, and it dashed off. Twenty-five minutes passed before Draco spotted it. Rushing towards it, he could hear Harry coming behind him but he hoped he'd had enough of a jump on him from the start, for he knew his Nimbus Two-Thousand and One was no match for Harry's Firebolt. Stretching forward, he grabbed for it, and felt his hand close around the Snitch. He'd won! He'd actually won and on a weaker broom, too. Oh, what a chance to brag. Seeing the look on Harry's face, though, he bit his tongue, all the while cursing his self-control, and instead said, "Wanna go at it again?"

Harry looked up, again surprised by Draco's strange behavior. He shook his head. "How about we race? As much as I love it, it gets a little boring just hunting for the stupid thing. Flying, though…who could get tired of that?"

"Race where?" Draco asked, looking slightly bored.

"Just…I don't know, just around the pitch I guess."

"Glad to see you've thought this out, Potter. Just like a Gryffindor." Shaking his head bemusedly, he consented. They did three laps around the field, with Harry winning outright. Panting slightly at his effort, Draco plopped down on a particularly comfortable grassy patch near the pitch underneath an enormous oak, turning so the sun warmed his already flushed face. Harry looked down at him as if he thought he was mad.

"What?" Draco asked impatiently, noticing that Harry'd been giving him more than his fair share of odd looks.

"I just didn't think of you as the type who'd just throw himself- en sprawl, I might add- down on the grass, is all. You're-" he hesitated, seeming unsure of his words. "You're different."

"Different? How so? You mean, 'purple mohawk' different? Or 'grandma's got her own style and she shoves it on her grandson by smothering him with ugly brown knitted sweaters' different?" Draco asked, squinting up at him.

"No, just different. I don't know how to explain it. I guess I just expect every word out of your mouth to be insulting, I don't know." They lapsed into silence, Draco thinking on Harry's words. Am I really so different? he wondered. This was how he'd always been, at least when he was at home, when he was not under Lucius' domineering watch. Comprehension dawned.

"Oh. Well, that's it."

"What's it?" asked Harry, also sitting on the cool grass, the shade a welcome shield from the sun.

"What's different about me. It's because we're here. When I'm at home, I feel more…relaxed. At school, it's different…that's all. Don't get me wrong. Sarcasm is a part of my personality, I won't deny that, but it kind of eggs me on when I know everyone is expecting it." My father was expecting it. He paused. It was beginning to occur to Draco that his entire life had been planned and dominated by his father.

"I know," Harry said bitterly, actually agreeing with Draco for once. "Our peers expect a lot, don't they? Sometimes, I just want to scream 'leave me alone!' It's irritating. You know, most of them don't like me for me, they like me because I'm the Boy Who Lived. Then the ones that hate me-" a sideways glance, "-well, they hate me for the same reason."

"So, fame has a price?"

"Almost everything has a price in life. I get used to it." Harry fell silent, brooding on something, when he suddenly stood up. "You- you can't just start being nice to me and expect it all to be okay, Malfoy. What? Are you making an exception? A 'you're family so I have to' kind of thing?"

A pause. "I don't owe you a thing," Draco spat venomously, his tone definitely no longer friendly. "Not one goddamned thing. Your problems are not mine. Your responsibilities are not mine. Your pain is not mine. I do not need your excessively heavy baggage, Potter, I already have my own."

"Sod off, Malfoy, I didn't say I expected you to take on my problems. That's like asking you to take on the world," Harry stated regally, chafing Draco's pride. "And I doubt you could handle it in any case." Draco's ears went pink, as did his recently colorless face. Before he responded, however, their guardian appeared.

"So, you haven't killed each other, huh?" Bella asked, floating down to them. She'd decided to tour the grounds a bit halfway during their second game and was just now returning.

"No, my dear lady, we seem to have left our wands in the manor. I was just about to pounce on him, of course, and give him a righteous beating when you arrived," Draco said smoothly, his words not too far from the truth.

She snorted rudely. "Puh-lease. And mess up that pretty face?"

"She knows you so well, Draco." Harry's eyes danced, his anger fading away as he recalled all the fistfights they'd been in. Draco balk at a fistfight? Not likely.

Draco made a face at Harry and sighed heavily, pulling a deeply mournful face. "Oh god, why was I cursed with this incredible sexiness? You see, my flower, I have two thugs who mostly handle things for me, but every now and then I have to sacrifice this face. A shiner never looked manlier on a chap." Harry sniggered.

Bella rolled her eyes. "I'll bet. Well, if you're done giving yourself airs, Draco, it is more than a quarter past four, and you are both free to go."

"A quarter past four?" Draco gasped. "Oh shit, my lesson." With that, he whirled, and dashed towards the manor, leaving the puzzled pair behind.

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So that was semi-short but also interesting don't you think?

Crys