A/N: Hi! This is a bonus chapter, which I wasn't going to upload yet, but... I just had to, as a thank you to my ONE reviewer who reviewed of her own free will! Thank you soooooo much!

Because of that, this chapter is dedicated to Snaped, for her kind comments! I'm glad you're enjoying it! Also, the only reason I didn't spell out "please" in the summary is because FF. net was being annoying and cutting it off if I did. Sorry to anyone who's annoyed by the text language, but it was the only way to fit everything. And maybe I will drop the bit about the OFCs, you may be right about it scaring people off. Thanks Helen!

-------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------

Chapter V – Goodnight, Draco

It took Harry several more hours to finish the front gardens, at which time he was forced to cook some more inedible "food" for his and the Dursley's dinner. It was after six o'clock when he finally returned to his room. He half-expected to be yelled at for taking so long, but when he entered, he found Draco curled up in the corner of his bed with a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans ("Now With Sea Bass!") and reading a copy of "Advanced Seeker Techniques" that had been Harry's birthday present from Hermione this year. He looked up as Harry closed the door, blinking owlishly at him.

"Who are you? Do you live here?" He asked, looking a bit like a lost five year old. Harry stopped in his tracks.

"What? You don't remember?" This, he knew, could be very bad indeed. Very, very bad. He didn't get a chance to think of exactly how bad, though, as his pillow hit him in the face.

"Of course I know, you idiot. It certainly took you long enough to come back." Draco glared at him, but it really managed to look more like a pout. "What if I'd had a seizure, or started bleeding again, or died or something?" He was scowling again, and Harry was again reminded of just how much Draco could look like a ferret without really meaning to. He grinned and picked up the pillow off the floor, carrying it back and placing it on his bed.

"You're too annoying to die that easily." Harry teased lightly, picking up the box of candy and choosing a couple of the "safe" colors. "How much of my food did you manage to go through today, anyway?" Draco pouted again.

"Not that much. I'm still hungry, though. I haven't had anything but this kind of stuff for two days, you know." His voice retained its arrogant tone, but it was ruined by the untimely complaint of his stomach. He glared at it, as though that would help shut it up, and Harry nearly choked on his laughter. "Now you've gone and reminded it about food." He glared accusingly at Harry, who put his hands up in defense.

"Now, now. I wouldn't want to be killed by Draco Malfoy's angry stomach, after all." He grinned affably, and Draco couldn't help but crack a smile. "Don't worry, I told you I have real food. I can't believe you didn't find it." Draco looked on interestedly as Harry opened up the floorboard and pulled out all the sweets, placing them on the floor next to their usual hiding spot, and pulled his wand from his waistband. He looked up at Draco. "You just go like this." He tapped the bottom lightly twice and whispered softly, "Aperio". Draco blinked as the previously solid bottom of the hiding place disappeared, leaving him free to view the twin stacks of plain, white boxes that were hidden there. Harry smiled and laughed at the blond boy's shock.

"It's all Mrs. Weasley. Ron told her that they weren't feeding me properly, so she started sending me more food than I could possibly ever eat." He shrugged. "The preservation charm works wonders, though. And she was kind enough to fix them each with a heating spell, so if you ever want something, just tap the little stove design at the corner, see?" He pointed to the little design that Draco hadn't noticed. "And it will heat itself up just right. There's some silverware in here, too..." Harry trailed off as he dug around, his brow knitting in concentration. "Ah! Here we are!" He held up a handful of forks, knives and spoons like they were some great treasure. Draco chuckled, but looked nervously at the cutlery. Harry smiled at him. "It's clean, don't worry." Draco blinked. Was he really that transparent?

"So, what do you want?"

Draco thought a moment. "What are my choices?"

Harry grinned. "Homemade pot-pie, homemade pot-pie, and homemade pot-pie." Apparently this was a colossal joke of some kind to Harry, but Draco didn't quite get it. Harry sighed and explained. "She tends to send those the most. I think because it's small enough to send with Errol, but still enough food for me to live on. And you, now, too." Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Errol?"

Harry didn't quite manage to suppress his grin. "The Weasley's owl. He's really old, so he can't carry much, but I think he'd be quite put-out if they ever replaced him." Draco rolled his eyes. Harry already knew his opinion of all things "Weasley", but it was rather amusing.

"I'm sure you'll get to meet Errol at some point. And Hedwig, as well. She's gone to deliver and pick up some letters, but I expect she'll be back tonight." Draco nodded slowly.

"That's your owl, right?" Harry smiled.

"Yeah. She was a present from Hagrid; the day I found out I was going to go to Hogwarts. Birthday present, really. That was the first time I met you, as well." He grinned at Draco. "I think she's far easier to get along with, though." He dodged the pillow this time, but only just. It hit the floor beyond him with a 'thwap'. "No fair! I'm unarmed! Besides, I have the food!" Draco decided that this was true, and his stomach decided that it was important.

"Alright, Potter. You're getting off easy, mind you." Draco grinned haughtily, but his eyes were sparkling. "And I suppose I shall have the 'homemade pot-pie'." Harry laughed and pulled two of the boxes out, tapping the little designs on them and watching as they changed from black to red to black again.

"An excellent choice. Your food, monsieur." He held the box out to Draco with a flourish. The blond boy grabbed it quickly, scowling just so and wishing that he still had the pillow.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After they finished dinner, Draco lounged back on Harry's bed sideways, letting his legs dangle off the side and his hair brush against the wall. Harry did the same, after he had put away the silverware and disposed of the boxes (which was easy, as they disposed of themselves after being empty for five minutes). The two boys lay there in silence for a few moments, looking at the ceiling and thinking. It wasn't really an uncomfortable silence, it was simply a silence.

"Do you always have to work like that?" Draco finally asked, in a soft voice. Harry turned his head to look at the blond's profile. He was still looking steadfastly upward, as though the ceiling was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, but it was also obvious that he was serious about the question.

"Yeah." Harry admitted, looking back upward as well. "Pretty much. Every once in a while there's nothing to do, or they'll have company over, so I have to stay up here and pretend I don't exist." He grinned at the memory of what had happened the last time he'd tried to do so.

"What's so funny?" Harry turned again to see Draco looking straight back at him. He smiled.

"A house elf and a dessert." Draco blinked, and Harry smiled even brighter. "Your old house elf showed up and dropped this big dessert on Uncle Vernon's guests. I got blamed for it, of course, but it was really funny, looking at it now." Harry smiled wistfully. Draco just looked at him, confused.

"My old house elf?" He closed his eyes for a minute. "How long ago was that?"

Harry thought a moment. "Right before second year. So, four years now, I think?" Draco nodded thoughtfully.

"If it helps, your father accidentally freed him towards the end of the year." Harry smirked, remembering the trick he had pulled on Lucius Malfoy with some delight. Draco's eyes lit up.

"I think I remember that! You had something to do with it, didn't you? Father was furious for weeks! I remember him storming around, cursing under his breath and so on. Which one was that...?"

"Dobby." Harry filled in, glad they had found something reasonably 'normal' to talk about. Much better than that 'Sorry I got your father in jail; by the way, have you joined the Dark Side yet' bit which could have happened. "His name was Dobby."

"Yeah, I think I remember him. He was always a little squirrelly, even for a house elf. Wonder what's happened to him." Draco smiled. "Normally I wouldn't care," he attempted to justify himself, "but it's funny that you and a house elf got the better of my father. Well, maybe more amusing than funny. Though I halfway expect it from you, now, being Gryffindor's 'Golden Boy' and all." The words were typical Malfoy, but the tone was light, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"I didn't ask for that title, you know. And I do know what's happened to him, Dobby, I mean. He's working in the Hogwarts kitchen. I think the other house elves think he's a bit off as well." The boys regarded each other for a moment, then both broke out laughing.

'This is good.' Harry thought to himself. 'Really good. I never thought I'd be glad to have Malfoy around, but it's actually almost... nice.'

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They changed Draco's bandages again before turning in, though Harry noted that some of the larger wounds were going to require treatment for a while yet. However, the smaller cuts were healing nicely, and the larger ones seemed to have escaped infection up to that point, for which Harry was glad, and Draco was gladder. It was, after all, his body, and he was rather attached to it.

Some time later, they lay side by side on Harry's rather small bed, both staring at the now darkened ceiling.

"Favorite color." Harry whispered suddenly. Draco looked at him in the dim moonlight.

"What?"

"What's your favorite color? I figure if we're sharing a room and a bed for the rest of the summer, we might as well get to know each other."

Draco snorted, but couldn't find anything particularly bad about the idea.

"Fine then. Silver. Yours?"

"Hm... Red, I think, but I like blue, too. Your question."

Draco thought a moment. "Favorite subject."

Harry's answer was instantaneous. "Defense. Except when we have bad teachers." He amended. "Then... I don't know. I like Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures, even if it is dangerous sometimes." He grinned. "I got to pet a unicorn one time... What?" Draco had dissolved into giggles. "What?" Harry was beginning to laugh himself, and he didn't even know why.

Finally, Draco choked out a response. "Virgin! That answers one question!" He started laughing again, harder this time, then tensed as he flexed his still-injured ribs too much. Harry had been scowling at him for his comment, but now placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to find some painkillers?" His green eyes flashed in the darkness, giving Draco and indication of where he was as he shook his head "no".

"I'm fine, I'm just fine. I've got to stop doing that." He shook his head a bit more vigorously, then lay back down again, Harry following suit beside him.

"Okay, if you say so. Then, your favorite?"

"Potions." Draco's answer was immediate as well. "Professor Snape says I have what it takes to be a great potions master someday, if I'm interested."

Harry grinned at him. "That's great!" Draco regarded him oddly.

"I thought you hated Potions." he stated flatly, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. Harry shook his head.

"No. I'm not too good at it, and I hate Snape and his favoritism, but it's great that you know what you want to do."

"You don't?" Draco sounded surprised, and Harry sighed.

"Not really. I was thinking about Auror training, but I don't know if I want to go on fighting for the rest of my life. I think I would hate to always be "The Boy Who Lived", you know?" Draco didn't, really, but he nodded anyway, encouraging Harry to continue. "So I don't know what I want to do. I'm not particularly good at anything..." Draco snorted at that, and received a glare in return. "And anyway, all of this is assuming that I actually survive long enough to have a career." The resigned tone in the darker boy's voice was somewhat scary, Draco decided. Like he had already made up his mind that he wasn't going to.

"I just don't want to be famous forever, but whatever I do, I'm always going to be." Harry stared at the ceiling, mostly talking to himself at this point, though Draco was still listening intently. "If I die in the fight, I'll still be remembered, either as a martyr to the Light or a great victory to the Dark, though I don't much fancy dying anytime soon. But if I live, and manage to kill Voldemort," Draco flinched slightly, Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye, "then I'll be the great hero forever. Everyone will know my name, even more than they do now. I'll never have any peace at all. I think more than anything, all I want to do for the rest of my life is disappear."

Draco found himself contemplating such a future. It did seem rather dead-end. "I thought you liked being famous. All that signing autographs and your fan club and such." Harry groaned.

"You mean Lockhart and Colin Creevey? Please don't remind me! I couldn't get Lockhart to leave me alone, and I still can't get Colin to. D'you know how hard it is to hold Quidditch practice with a flashbulb going off every few seconds?" Draco grinned and shook his head.

"And yet you still manage to beat me." He said it in a tone of sheer awe, as though a feat of that kind was nearly impossible. Harry grinned.

"Well, that's just raw talent, mate. Nothing you can do about that." Draco elbowed him lightly, then had a sudden flash of inspiration for his next question.

"Favorite memory?" He felt Harry tense slightly at the words, and briefly wondered why. The dark-haired boy sighed softly.

"I don't really have one, I suppose. Well, maybe. The day Hagrid came and told me I was a wizard, and that I could leave here, that's a good memory. He gave me Hedwig, you know. She was my first real birthday present." Draco could hear the smile in Harry's voice, and briefly wondered exactly how bad the boy's life had been before that, that he hadn't even received a proper birthday present before. "Yeah, I'd have to say that one. That's the day that changed everything, so that would have to be the one. I mean, there's been a lot of bad stuff, but overall everything is better now than it was then." Harry was very definite in this statement. "So, what's yours, then?"

Draco thought for a while, searching for his best memory. It was hard to pin down. Not because he didn't have good memories; there were high points mixed into the lows. It was just that most of his good memories were tempered by something bad that had happened at more or less the same time. After a minute or so of silence, Harry spoke.

"You don't have to tell me if you really don't want to." He seemed disappointed, but accepting. Some secrets, he knew, were the kind that you didn't want to share with anyone. Especially someone you had hated for five years. Thinking this, Harry opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Draco.

"It's not... that I don't want to tell. I just realized that I don't really know." Harry could feel the blond's shrug. He spoke as if trying to be nonchalant, but Harry could hear that the realization had shaken him a bit. Time to change the subject.

"Why have we hated each other for so long?" Harry didn't really direct the question at Draco; he just sent the thought out, a rhetorical question to the universe that might never be answered. Draco began to think seriously about the question, but lost his thoughts as a yawn took over instead.

"We'd better get some sleep." Harry commented as Draco finished, then found himself yawning as well. Draco nodded sleepily.

"'Mm. 'Night, Harry." He mumbled as his eyes shut of their own accord. Harry's, however, shot open briefly as he contemplated the blond boy next to him. Yes, he had heard correctly. And he found he didn't really mind at all. In fact, he rather liked it. So, whatever the answer was, apparently they didn't hate each other anymore. Harry found that he rather liked that, too.

"Goodnight, Draco." He buried his head in his side of the pillow and followed Draco into sleep.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#Does the ancient 'review dance' used by writers everywhere since the dawn of time, and looks up hopefully#