A/N: Hey there! Can I just say I love all my reviewers? Because I do! This chapter goes out to toots, rinkurocks, burningchaos, Marsky, Micka, fotty, shawna clasey, and Snaped!!!

And now, a few more notes... Since it appears I might just hit my review goal for Xmas, I do have to warn you all that after I post what I've got, the updates may be further between. I've been working at a fever pitch over break, since I'm laid up with a cold right now anyway, but once school starts up again, I'll have exams and so on. In the way of GOOD news, after exams I start second semester, during which i have a study hall! So, hopefully I'll get some writing time in, either there or once I get home. Also on the plus side, the plot will really begin to pick up once everyone gets to Hogwarts (yes, I know it seems like I've forgotten about that, I haven't, really!).

Please bear with me through the boring parts of this plot! A lot is happening, it's just happening under the surface.

(Chapters 7 and 8 will be posted together)

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Chapter VII – A Warning and Hope

It was already time for supper when Harry and Draco finished their work in the yard. Harry couldn't keep himself from grinning at the other boy's obvious displeasure. Not only had he not received any lunch, he had been working all day and was developing a nice set of blisters on his hands.

It was, of course, entirely his own fault. Harry had suggested that the blond wear a pair of gardening gloves when he demanded to be allowed to dig one of the holes, but they had been refused. Draco was adamant that if Harry could do it without gloves, so could he. Harry had attempted to protest that he had also been doing this for about 16 years, as opposed to two hours, but Draco would hear none of it.

As a result, the blond's hair was matted with sweat, his stomach was growling, he had dirt all over him, and he was nursing his injured hands with as much dignity as he could muster. Harry had an idle wish for a Polaroid snapshot of the moment, if only for use as blackmail in the future. Never had he seen Draco Malfoy so disheveled. But, he noted with some interest, Draco had actually seemed to be having fun, at least while they were working. In fact, the only reason Harry was so clean was because Draco had gotten bored with watering plants halfway through the afternoon and decided to water Harry instead. And the only reason Draco was so dirty was because Harry had responded with several handfuls of damp soil, which clung beautifully to blond hair.

If it had happened at school, Harry knew, it would have been the start of a war, which would probably have extended far beyond the two of them to encompass both their Houses. Yet here, for some reason, some fluke of fate or time or space, all it became was a teasing scuffle in the backyard, which ended with laughter rather than curses and bruises. It was, Harry decided, markedly better than the first option.

The boys took off their shoes as they went in the house, Draco heading upstairs to try to shower the dirt and sweat off his skin and out of his hair, Harry heading into the kitchen to start dinner. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Dursleys in quite a while, he assumed that they were doing their best, as usual, to ignore that he (and now Draco) existed. Putting it out of his mind for the moment, he started preparing the main course. As far as he could tell, it was meat that might have once been steak, before some health-minded person took out all the grease, fat, cholesterol, calories and flavor. At the present, it looked rather like a limp, grey mass. Harry sighed. It appeared as though he and Draco would again be surviving on pot-pie.

Dinner was eaten in the same silence as breakfast, the Dursleys having made their appearance just as Harry finished the cooking. Harry discerned that they had been to the tailor's, to get Dudley's Smeltings uniform tailored so that it would be large enough to accommodate him. Draco had to hide his snicker when Harry quietly mentioned this to him as they made their way upstairs to their actual meal.

As Harry opened his door, however, he was surprised to see Hedwig perched on his desk, along with one of the school's tawny owls. Hedwig hooted softly at him as he made his way over and relieved both of them of their messages. He set the envelopes aside for a moment and opened the door to Hedwig's cage so that she could have access to her water, and offered the tawny owl a drink as well. It seemed to decline politely, bowing its head a bit and hooting before taking off out the open window.

The owls taken care of, Harry turned his attention to the letters. Draco, who had taken up his usual position in the corner of the bed, watched interestedly as he tapped the corner of his pot-pie box and waited for it to heat up.

The two envelopes were identical, and obviously the school letters that came every year about this time. Harry had been wondering when the letter would arrive, as his usually appeared on his birthday. The only difference between them was on the front, in the address. One clearly read "Harry Potter". The other clearly read "Draco Malfoy". Both at the same address; The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Harry took a deep breath, and handed Draco his envelope. The blond blinked a few times as he looked at it.

"Well, I suppose that answers the question of if anyone knows I'm here." He drawled, prying the seal up with what, until recently, had been a perfectly manicured nail. Harry did similarly, opening his letter and unfolding the contents. The parchment was the same as always, but he could see that his envelope contained one more piece of paper than Draco's did. It was at the very front, before the traditional letter from Professor McGonagall, and was written in a spidery script that Harry would recognize anywhere. Dumbledore.

The note itself was very brief, and very simple. It read;

"Harry,

I do hope you've had a pleasant summer; however, it has come to our attention that you have a rather unusual houseguest. I shall be brief; please expect a visitor tomorrow. And have no fear, Harry, we do not wish your guest harm. Also, I think you will be pleased by the identity of your visitor.

All the best,

A. Dumbledore"

There was, in addition to the text of the letter, a postscript. It read, "The decision to alert your guest about your visitor is yours alone, however, you have my permission should you choose to do so."

The letter was reasonably cryptic, which Harry had expected, no names were given except his own and Dumbledore's, and anyone who intercepted the letter could've determined those rather easily anyhow. It seemed, though, that the Order was certainly aware of Draco's presence, though Harry couldn't determine whether they were displeased by it.

"Harry?" Draco's voice dragged his thoughts away from the parchment. "Is something wrong?" The boy seemed somewhat concerned. "You spaced out a bit, there."

Harry smiled reassuringly. "No, no, I'm fine. I just got a note from Dumbledore." Draco twitched slightly.

"About me, right?" He gestured with his own letter. "They obviously know I'm here now." Harry nodded.

"Here. It says I can tell you, so I suppose you can read it yourself." He handed the letter to the blond, who took it carefully. He sat and read it through at least twice before looking back at Harry, who had settled himself on the opposite corner of the bed, sitting Indian-style and resting his back against the wall.

"Any ideas on who's coming? He says you'll be pleased." Draco waved the letter at Harry, in case he had forgotten that particular statement. Harry grinned.

"I have a few ideas." He could tell, based simply on the fact that Dumbledore mentioned that he would be pleased, that his visitor would be an Order member whom he was familiar with. Perhaps Tonks or even Lupin. For a fleeting second when he read the note, he had held on to the thought that perhaps, just maybe, it was Sirius coming to see him, but the thought was wiped away as quickly as it appeared. It was best not to dwell on things that couldn't be changed, Harry knew that very well. At the beginning of summer, he had been a wreck, but he had slowly been adjusting to life without the dream of moving away to live with his godfather, of finally having a family who loved him and wanted him. In a way, he realized, Draco's presence had helped tremendously. In worrying about the other boy (whether his health or what he was getting up to in Harry's room while he worked every day), he had been able to put his own worries behind him for the most part. His attention was elsewhere, and, because the raw wound on his heart wasn't being picked at anymore, it had finally really started to heal.

As Harry pondered, Draco read the letter a final time, then lightly tossed it to land on Harry's desk. That accomplished, he sat back again to read his school letter. Enclosed was his booklist, of course, and, strangely enough, his class schedule. He looked at it oddly before turning to Harry with a questioning gaze. The dark-haired youth was still lost in thought, so Draco smacked him lightly on the shoulder with the thick parchment. Harry blinked a few times and turned to him, confused. Draco sighed.

"Did you get a schedule? In your letter, I mean." Harry blinked again.

"I don't know. I didn't really have a chance to look." He confessed, opening his school letter again. Yes, there it was, he discovered, just as confused as Draco. He shrugged. "Maybe it's explained in the letter." He suggested, and began reading the traditional document. He found it a moment later.

"Here it is!" Harry exclaimed, as if finding the explanation would win him some sort of prize. Draco snorted, but listened as Harry read aloud.

"We apologize for the late arrival of your school letters this year. In the interest of expediency, we have sent all students their schedules as well as the list of required books. All changes or adjustments to student's schedules must be made before the start of term. No Exceptions." Harry finished, then looked up at the blond.

"Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything." Draco looked down at his piece of parchment, then back to Harry. "Want to compare?"

He considered it for a moment. Comparing schedules would mean, basically, that he was telling Draco Malfoy, the one person who had always set out to make his life a living hell, exactly where he would be and when for the entire first term. Then he looked back at the blond, who had his schedule casually extended in Harry's direction, and looked about as malicious as the pillow next to him. With a sigh and a quick plea that the universe not say 'I told you so' at some later date, he extended his schedule as well.

Immediately, Draco leaned in to the space between the two boys, his eyes darting quickly to compare the two papers. After a moment's hesitation, Harry leaned over to look as well. There didn't seem to be much commonality at first, but as he looked farther, he noted some similarities.

"Hmm... We have Herbology Tuesdays and Thursdays together..." Draco began reading his findings aloud, taking long pauses as he continued scanning.

"And Astronomy Monday nights." Harry added, referring to one line that the other had apparently missed. Draco made a little noise of agreement and nodded.

"Hm. You're right. Astronomy Mondays, then. Oh, here... Defense on Mondays and Fridays together... Why aren't you taking Potions?" Draco suddenly looked up at Harry in the most accusatory manner that he could muster. For a moment, Harry was actually flustered.

"Wha- Why? Because I'm horrible at it, of course. You've said that yourself." Harry suddenly found himself on the defensive, and had no particular understanding of why. He really didn't have to explain his choice of classes to anyone, let alone his greatest rival, but he suddenly found the need to.

Draco made another little agreement noise. "I suppose I must have." He settled back against the wall again, Harry following suit. "It's not that you're particularly bad at it, you know." He continued after a moment. Harry assumed that he must have given Draco a fairly incredulous look, as the blond continued. "You just don't try, that's your problem."

Harry immediately opened his mouth to counter this statement, but found himself cut off by two of the blond's fingers suddenly resting on his lips in an obvious shushing motion. He closed his mouth and the hand fell away.

"Don't even try to argue it. You don't. You made up your mind that you dislike Professor Snape, and as a result you've never put any real effort into the class. I'm sure you would do quite fine if you bothered to put a little work in. Let me guess," He hurried onto his question before Harry could attempt to interrupt him again. "You always do your Potions homework last, if at all. Even behind Divination, right?" It was all Harry could do to nod, wondering how in the world Draco Malfoy had figured out his study habits. The blond just gave a little satisfied nod.

"See? You don't want to try. You've gotten it into your head that somehow you not doing your homework hurts Snape. It doesn't, trust me." Harry just gave him an irked look.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? I'm not in his class, so I won't have any of his homework to do." Harry tried to fill the statement with finality, but knew that he hadn't quite managed it. Draco made this certain by continuing.

"You should be. Sign up. Right now. Write a letter to McGonagall and request to be put in." Harry gave him a look that quite eloquently stated 'Why the bloody hell should I?'

Draco sighed again. It was his private thought that if Harry put half as much work into doing his work as he did into avoiding it and being stubborn, he would be head boy within a month. And, however much he had always claimed to hate "Potter", Draco Malfoy also detested the wasting of perfectly good talent.

He grabbed Harry's schedule quickly, before the dark-haired boy had a chance to react, and started comparing the two again. "Here. And here." He poked at two places on the paper with an index finger. "Get rid of this ridiculous waste of time they call Divinations and swap spaces with your free period and you can fit into the same class as mine." Harry glared at him.

"Join a group of Slytherins for a class I'm no good at with a teacher who hates me? No thanks." Draco smacked him with the parchment.

"Honestly, don't you ever pay attention? Classes are integrated now. Since there's such variation in which classes students want to take, and since we're in the advanced classes now anyway, they don't split them by House from here on out. How long have you been at Hogwarts for, anyway?" Harry declined to dignify that statement with an answer, choosing instead to act as if he hadn't heard a word Draco had said. The blond growled and crawled across the surface of the bed to plant himself directly in front of Harry, crossing his arms and meeting him eye to eye. The two traded glares for almost a minute before Draco spoke again, his gaze never wavering.

"I'll help you, alright?" Harry blinked. Rapidly. If there was anything he had expected out of this situation, it was not to be faced with an irate Draco Malfoy promising to help him with his Potions homework.

"You'll... help... me?" Harry rolled the words around slowly, as if trying to determine their actual meaning. Draco sat back, no longer staring him directly in the eye.

"Yes, I'll help you. But I want something in return." Harry rolled his eyes.

"What, do your Transfiguration homework for you or something?" Draco grimaced. He was not particularly fond of Transfiguration, though he was passable to good at it, and it did provide for amusement when used properly. He was quite good at turning people who annoyed him into slugs.

"Not quite. You had some kind of group last year, working on spells and things they don't teach. I probably already know some of them, but I want you to teach me the ones I don't."

Harry took a moment to collect himself. Draco had delivered his proposition with perfect sincerity, and he didn't doubt that the Slytherin was serious. It was just... too odd for him to believe it.

"Let me get this straight," Harry began, waiting for Draco's nod of approval to continue. "You want me to teach you the things the DA worked on last year, and in return, you'll help me with Potions?" Draco smiled brilliantly.

"Precisely. If you move your schedule the way I suggested, we'll have our free periods at the same time as well, so it works out fine." Harry stared at him.

"You don't think anyone would notice that you, Draco Malfoy, and I, Harry Potter, widely known to hate each other, suddenly started spending all of our free periods together?" Harry was incredulous, but Draco merely smirked.

"Well, you could just say that Professor Snape is forcing you to get tutoring, you know. Everyone knows you're miserable at Potions." Harry allowed himself to fall backward into the wall, his head banging sharply against it.

"Then why are you making me take it?" He whined, and Draco grinned to himself. He had just won, and he knew it. It wasn't 'why are you trying to make me', it came out 'why are you making me', and that was all the difference in the world. He pulled a sheet of parchment and a quill from Harry's desk and held them out to him.

"Because it'll do you good. Now, get writing." Still grumbling, Harry took the offered writing materials and sat down to compose his letter, requesting a change of schedule and updated book list.

Draco looked on, smiling contentedly. He may not have always gotten what he wanted, but he got it most of the time. And what he got this time, in its own small way, was a lifeline. If Harry Potter didn't really hate him, then he had the beginnings of a way to return his family line to good standing in wizarding society, something that he considered a priority after his father was publicly arrested.

He had also, he realized, gained a hand of friendship, though the owner of the hand was currently grumbling about his schedule. And somewhere inside Draco Malfoy, an eleven year old boy began smiling as the hand he had been offering was finally accepted.