A/N- Not much to say on this one, just that it's being posted along with chapter 3, and that I really wish SOMEONE would review this without me having to call all my friends and beg...

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Chapter IV – The Best of Enemies

Harry arrived downstairs a little over an hour from when his Aunt Petunia had come to wake him, banging on the door and screeching as usual. That was normal. What wasn't normal was that he'd been awake for that entire hour. He had, by this time in his life, become desensitized to the noise, as one would be to an alarm clock that they've had for years. Except that he couldn't throw his Aunt Petunia at a wall to get her to be quiet, much as he wanted to sometimes.

When he stepped into the kitchen, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were there, but Dudley was nowhere to be seen. 'Probably still asleep' Harry thought, anger at the injustice burning like acid in his mind for a moment, then forgotten as quickly. It, like the screeching, was a normal occurrence. Aunt Petunia spotted him first, advancing upon him with frying pan and spatula in hand, yelling about 'cooking Duddikins' breakfast' and 'ungrateful lazy brat', and a thousand other phrases he had heard many, many times before. This morning, though, he was slightly embarrassed. He was sure that Draco... 'Malfoy,' he corrected himself, could hear at least part of what his Aunt was yelling at him. His ears burned with the shame. His friends knew, about his family, his life at home. He could just imagine the horrors that would be in store for him if word of such things made its way around the Slytherin common room.

He was spared further thoughts of that type, however, as his aunt thrust the cooking implements into his hands and shoved him roughly toward the stove. With a sigh, he began cooking the new 'No Cholesterol!' eggs and 'Fat Free SoySation!' bacon that the whole family was forced to consume as breakfast. Dudley had complained so loudly about being forced to eat fruit that his mother had given in, but not all the way. So, they were left with products that might have resembled actual food in some past life, but not any longer. Harry cooked it in silence, contemplating the pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs he had stored under the floorboard in his room. He made a mental note to contact Ron and Hermione, tell them to send more food. They would do it without question, he knew, which was a good thing. He had a feeling it would be better if no one knew that Dra- Malfoy... was there, for the present.

Dudley thundered down the stairs a few minutes later, lured by the food, however indigestible it may have been. Aunt Petunia dished out the food, giving Harry the tiniest portion, as usual. He ate it in silence, still pondering all the problems that presented themselves along with Draco's arrival. The first, of course, was how he was going to inform his family that there was another person, let alone another wizard, living in their house. As unhappy as they were to have Harry around, he could imagine the hurricane that would come down on his head when he told them. The next was how he was going to inform Dumbledore and the Order that he was harboring Draco Malfoy. It seemed antithetical to everything he had ever said or done regarding the Slytherin Prince. He was sure that Dumbledore would understand, but convincing someone like Mad-Eye Moody that Draco wasn't the evil git they'd all painted him as was going to take effort.

That and how Draco would react should he ever know about the Order. Harry was sure that he was aware of some form of organized resistance against Voldemort, but the knowledge of its members was not something that was given out lightly. Luckily, that was Dumbledore's decision to make, not his. But, some part of his mind that he wished would shut up was quietly insisting that he wanted Draco to know. He would rather that they were staying at the house at Grimmauld Place instead of with his relatives. If it managed to survive the coming war, Harry thought it might be a rather nice place to live, far away from the Dursleys and not too far from Diagon Alley and the wizarding world. Until he got the Headmaster's say-so, though, he was forbidden to mention the existence of the place, and, as he wasn't the Secret Keeper, he couldn't give out the address even if he wanted to.

Finally, once everyone had finished gagging on their food and had gone to do other things (with Aunt Petunia yelling for him to 'clean up, then get to the weeding'), he stopped mechanically chewing on the processed formerly-food products and cleared the table, washing the dishes quickly and with practiced ease, then getting a quick drink of water before heading outside to deal with Aunt Petunia's extensive gardens. He was well aware that he wouldn't be permitted re-entry into the house until he was done, and there was little hope of a member of his so-called family bringing him anything to drink.

He began with the back yard, knowing that the sun would make it impossible to work there in semi-comfort in the afternoon. It was much more prudent to do the back yard first, while there was still some shade there, and then move to the shadier front yard in the afternoon. Still, the work was difficult. There hadn't been much rain lately, and the ground was hard, making the weeds even more stubborn than usual.

No matter how many times he weeded the garden, there always seemed to be more weeds waiting to grow overnight. He was reminded of his own hair, and wondered about that for a moment before deciding that it was a stupid comparison, as the weeds probably didn't have any feeling whatsoever about whether they were removed or not, whereas he was rather attached to his hair.

Harry was distracted from these rather profound thoughts as he heard a noise from above him. He looked up, shading his eyes, to see Draco Malfoy leaning part of the way out his window, grinning down at him. He sighed, letting go of the weed he had been coaxing out of the ground and sitting back so that he could look up without straining.

"Need something?" He asked, just loud enough to be heard by Draco but not loud enough to be heard by the other occupants of the house. Draco smirked.

"No. You look like you could use this, though." He held up a bottle of butterbeer, one of the few that Harry had stashed away under the floorboard under a special cooling spell. Warm butterbeer was wonderful in the wintertime, but he found that the cold was equally as good in the summer. He grinned.

"Yeah. I was saving those, though. I see you got into the food alright?" Draco nodded. Harry refrained from commenting that he had also chosen to borrow one of Harry's favorite t-shirts, a green one that matched his eyes. It suited the Slytherin well, though, from what Harry could see. And the choice was rather logical, considering that most of Harry's other clothes bore Gryffindor insignia or were several sizes too big. The shirt would probably be a little big on the other boy to begin with; he had seemed a lot thinner than Harry had remembered him. But then again, it was rather hard to tell under Hogwarts robes.

"You need to get cockroach clusters. And some licorice wands. Why don't you have licorice wands?" Draco's voice was semi-accusatory, as though it was a cardinal sin not to stock the candy at all times, but he was smiling at the same time. Harry laughed.

"I'll put that on my shopping list, then. Any other requests, oh Selfish One?" Now it was Draco's turn to laugh, though he cut it short. Harry assumed he had jostled a rib again.

"Alright?" He asked, worried. Broken ribs could be dangerous, he knew. There was a big danger of puncturing a lung, particularly since they didn't know how bad the damage was or how to properly fix it. Draco waved off his concern.

"I'm fine, Potter. But next time you feel like calling me names," He was smiling now, but it was a bit more strained than before. He obviously was still in some pain, but, as expected, unwilling to admit it. "Just remember that I am the one holding the butterbeer." Harry rolled his eyes.

"So, are you going to throw that down, or not?" Draco put on his best innocent face.

"Well, I don't know, Potter. What'll you trade me for it?" Harry's eyes narrowed, but he smiled anyway. It was strange; to be playing this sort of game with his 'worst enemy', but it was fun, all the same.

"Hm." Harry pretended to think for a moment. "Well, how about a place to stay, food, clothing, and possibly a shower every now and then if you're good?" He cocked his head to the side and gave the blond a cheeky grin. Draco pouted for a moment.

"Prat. Fine, fine. Here you are." Harry was grateful for his Seeker's reflexes as he snagged the bottle out of the air. He looked back up as he opened his, only to see Draco doing the same with another bottle. 'So much for saving it.' Harry thought to himself. In the window, Draco held up his bottle, as if in a toast.

Harry grinned and raised his as well. "What are we toasting?"

Draco took a moment to answer. "To the best of enemies," he finally decided, raising his bottle a bit more then taking a sip. Harry did the same from his position on the ground.

'To the best of enemies indeed.'

They chatted for a few more minutes (Draco demanded to see Harry's collection of Famous Witches and Wizards cards, apparently he was a collector as well, and Harry discovered that Draco was serious about the cockroach clusters, which he found amusing), until Harry finished his butterbeer and threw the bottle back up, knowing that Draco could catch it easily (which he did). Harry got back to work, and Draco claimed that he needed to rest a bit.

It took the better part of the next hour to weed the back gardens, and the sun was already far past its zenith as he stood up and brushed the sweat off his forehead. He picked up the pile of weeds and took them around to the compost at the side of the house, then continued to the front yard. He surveyed it briefly, then sighed. It would be a long afternoon, and he idly wished that his room also had a window to the front.