"I am not an idiot!" Harry shouted as he turned towards Grimmauld Place. Without Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm, it was sitting in plain view between the shabby Muggle houses; Harry still had yet to adjust to that. He tromped up the walkway and threw open the door, leaving it for Draco to follow him in.

"You just killed my mother, Potter. I really think 'idiot' is an understatement." Draco kicked at the troll leg umbrella stand and then glared at the dank surroundings. "This place is a dump."

Harry ignored the remark and paused to look at the covered portrait. He was surprised that Mrs Black wasn't screaming her head off. He hoped she'd died. Can portraits die? He felt slightly guilty at the thought, but there was Draco, glaring at him. "I didn't kill her. Snape's been trying to move her; he probably has done it already."

"Snape? Your big hope for my mother is Snape?" Draco shook his head, looking incredulously at the ceiling. "Have you learned nothing? Snape's not in it for my mother, for you, or even for me. He does what he does for himself!"

"Is that the philosophy you had when you were mucking around with yourself with that feather duster?" Harry slapped his hand on the banister and spun himself around to head down to the kitchen.

Draco followed. "I know you don't think that's about romance. Even you aren't that dense."

"No, of course not. It's about who can protect you, isn't it? Or is it about the feather duster?" Harry crossed the kitchen to the cupboard and took out a butterbeer. Seeing the look on Draco's face, he pulled out another one and slammed them both on the table. They bubbled over when he opened them, but Harry didn't care. He took a generous swig.

"Oh yes, I was hoping the feather duster could protect me." Draco pulled his wand and spelled off the superfluous beer. Under his breath, he said, "You know very well why I did it. It was good enough for you that night."

"I didn't know you were using me that night." Harry took another gulp and tried to ignore the pained look on Draco's face.

"Is that what you really-- " Draco looked exasperated to swallowed down a good portion of the contents of the bottle. "Yeah, you caught me." He slumped at the table and stared at the drink, sliding his fingers over the bottle.

"I knew it," Harry hissed. His head dropped and he caught sight of the odd lump the t-shirt created in his clothing. The other gifts he had for Draco were still at Spinner's End. He felt like a sod for even buying them; sillier still for never having given them to him. Jerking the shirt out of his pocket, he threw it at Draco's head.

The shirt landed in his hair and when Draco pulled it off, fine strands of his hair stuck up. He smoothed his hair back and glared at him. "What is this?"

"A present." Harry finished his butterbeer and headed out the door. He was up the first couple of steps when he heard the shriek.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Draco shrieked.

Harry whirled around and stared at Draco's furious face. He looked at the table where the shirt was sitting, spread flat, the Virgin logo large and in green on a field of black. It wasn't even Gryffindor colors, so he had no idea what Draco's problem was. "I saw you wearing Muggle clothing," he said, too shocked to be angry yet.

"FIRST YOU KILL MY MOTHER OUT OF SOME SENSE OF PLAYING HERO AND THEN YOU INSULT MY VIRGINITY?" Draco lunged forward and grabbed the front of Harry's shirt.

Harry blinked and stared at Draco's fingers gathered in his shirt and then up at him, trying to imagine how he'd managed to insult Draco's virginity. "I didn't kill your mother, nor did I insult your virginity. Let go of me. Now."

"Didn't insult my virginity? What is that, then?" Draco pointed at the shirt and gave Harry a biting glare.

"A shirt... it..." Harry's eyes widened in horror as he realized that Draco wouldn't know that "Virgin" was a store's name, not an accusation. "No, you've got... that's... a brand."

"I know it's a brand, a brand of inexperience! I'm just picky. I haven't met anyone-- and I just-- HOW IS THIS YOUR BUSINESS?" Draco said, pointing his wand at the shirt.

Harry grabbed Draco's wand hand before he cast anything. "I don't know, why are you telling me about it?"

"Because you gave me this shirt to take the piss!" Draco twisted his wrist away and looked murderous.

It was hard for Harry not to laugh. "It's the name of a Muggle CD shop. That's where I went. It's not-- I wouldn't insult your virginity. I'm one, too."

Draco looked suspicious and eyed the shirt. "Are they all virgins at this seedy shop?"

"Er, not to my knowledge. But then, I've never asked." Harry crossed his arms, but smirked as Draco pocketed his wand.

"Why would you name your company something like that if you weren't... one?" Draco began to neatly fold the shirt but showed no interest in wearing it.

"I really don't know. It's just the shop's name. I never thought much about it." After a pause, Harry asked, "Why would you be called Draco if you're not actually a dragon or a constellation?"

"Because I'm brave," Draco said with a lot less irony than was warranted. He pushed the shirt into his robe pocket and appeared defiant.

"Right then." Somehow, Harry managed to not laugh. "I suppose Muggles are strange."

"Illogical," Draco corrected. Then he looked around the room as if he'd lost something. "Potter, where are your annoying friends?"

Harry's body stiffened, but it wasn't fair, Draco didn't know. "St. Mungo's."

--

It took a lot longer to console Draco than Harry had anticipated. He was shocked that Draco had such an emotional reaction. Then again, he did seem to get on with Hermione.

Draco had fixed tea for the both of them and then sat in the drawing room. The tea seemed to soothe Draco's nerves enough to keep glancing at the Black family tree. A few times he looked as if he might say something, but eventually chose not to and stood up to be shown to his room.

Harry decided to take Sirius's room as he felt closer to him in there than he did elsewhere. Without thinking how alike in some ways Draco might be to him, Harry took Draco to Regulus's room, which was a bit smaller. Draco looked at him and frowned. "No Lolly."

Harry looked down and nodded. "I'm sorry, Draco."

Looking like he was going to say something again, Draco's expression turned defeated and he headed into his room, casting several cleansing charms as he went. Harry watched him look through the wardrobe and set some things out that appeared to meet with Draco's approval, and then decided to go back to the drawing room to find a book.

He'd settled down to read one with a fresh cup of tea when someone in long, silver robes tumbled out of the Floo. Only a lock of pale hair fell out of the hood of the petite person and under its arm was a brilliantly white stuffed toy.

Lolly.

Harry stood, ready to shout at Draco for his irresponsibility, thinking that he'd gone back for his unicorn, when the hood fell back and Harry was confronted with the haughty sneer of Narcissa Malfoy. He took a step back in his shock of realization.

"Mr Potter, where is my son?" She didn't look at him at first, but through him, as she scanned the room, likely looking for Draco.

"He is resting." Harry crossed his arms ready to tell her off if she thought she was going to make him go back.

"He'll need Lolly, then." She turned and started to the stairs.

Harry grabbed her arm and looked down at her. He was prepared to restrain her if he had to-- this was his house, after all. "He's not going back."

Narcissa snatched her hand back. "Of course he isn't."

"Then why are you here?" He watched the way her head tilted to the side, the same way Draco's did when he thought Harry was daft.

"To check on him and to let him know I'm all right." She held up Lolly in a wordless gesture that she wanted to bring her to him.

The sight of the stuffed toy and realizing that seeing Narcissa would ease Draco's mind, he backed off a little. "Are you staying here?" Harry let go of her arm.

"No, I'm going to St Mungo's for 'exhaustion.' Seems a reasonable excuse after my husband was sent to Azkaban and my son was kidnapped by the Chosen One." She sneered at Harry and then tossed her hair back so that her pointed chin would sit higher.

Harry was unimpressed with the gesture and crossed his arms. "Well, Draco's not making any deals with Snape to save you lot, so you can save your breath if that's why you're really here. I won't let him go."

Narcissa walked away again, shaking her head. She had almost made it to the stairs when she stopped and whirled around. "That is not what I want him to do. That is never what I wanted for him. I will do the unsavoury business myself if it comes to that. But you," she said jabbing her long, pale finger into his shoulder, "you will be responsible for him now. You wrenched him out of that situation and so now you have to take care of him. YOU will not take advantage of him either, am I clear?"

"Yes." Harry rubbed his shoulder feeling, disconcerted by her implication that he'd take advantage of anyone.

"This is your fault. Dragging him out to this wasteland," Narcissa said, tromping up the stairs. "You're reckless and stupid, just like your father."

"You don't know anything about my father!" Did she? Harry mentally berated himself for knowing so little about his parents questioned as he followed Narcissa to the landing and up to the one closed door on the floor.

"Oh, I don't, hmm? I bet I know a lot more about James than you do." Narcissa smirked at how that made Harry pale. "Maybe there's more of an attraction to blondes than there is to redheads in the Potter family line." She went to the door and was about to open it when Harry ran up and grabbed her hand to stop her.

"What does that mean?"

Narcissa turned and looked up at him, her lips curled in the corners of her sneer. "What do you think it means?"

Harry stared down at her in shock. "You... and my father?"

She perked a brow, letting her expression turn to a minxy deviousness. Narcissa then turned the knob and pushed open the door.

Shocked beyond his ability speak, Harry watched Narcissa slither into Draco's room. He heard Draco's excited gasp of "Mum!" just before the door shut. Narcissa Malfoy had fancied his father. It was hard to reconcile that with everything that he'd known up until now, or so he thought at first. Then again, he realized that his father was a star Quidditch player and had been quite popular-- and a Pureblood. It made sense in a way that he didn't ever want to think about again.

Yet, as he wearily made his way to Sirius's old room, it was all he could think about. What if he'd been the son of Narcissa and James Potter? Would all of this have happened? Would he be more like Draco?

The thoughts swirled in his mind as he brushed his teeth, looking into his brilliant green eyes. Those came from his mother. There seemed to be a certain symmetry to his attraction to Draco now that he had this knowledge. He wondered how much his father fancied Narcissa back.

Knowing so little about his parents often proved frustrating in times like this. He couldn't argue against the revelation; he had no proof either way. While he understood that it didn't really matter who fancied whom, he felt as if some part of his fantasy parents had been lost. Of course they'd dated other people. He knew his mother couldn't stand his father in their fifth year.

Soon, his meandering thoughts systematically shut down as he began to spiral off into sleep. Pondering whether his father really did have a taste for blondes, he succumbed.

--

The next morning, Harry awoke to the zealous sweet smell of treacle that permeated the house emanating, he figured, from the kitchen. He didn't even bother to dress, expecting that it meant that Molly Weasley had arrived and skittered down the stairs. He paused at the uncovering of Mrs Black's portrait. The woman was standing frozen with a horrendous scowl on her face and an accusatory finger sticking out. Her eyes were wild, but she did not move. Rather, she was frozen like any Muggle picture. He rushed down to the kitchen.

Draco was surly, sitting up stock-straight with his hair slicked back and his robes prim and stiff. Narcissa appeared to be in the midst of some manner of lecture as two house-elves prepared more griddle cakes and sausage than Harry thought they could rightly eat in a week. "You will not let anyone know that you can cook, it's distasteful to do house-elf work, Draco," she said, flitting around the kitchen to observe the elves.

Harry fancied he could hear Draco's teeth grinding as he bit back his trademark nasty snark in honor of his mother. It was quite amusing. Harry was just about to take a seat when Narcissa tsked him. "No, no, young man. You have your shower and brush your teeth before you sit down to a meal."

"But I--"

Narcissa pointed at the stairs and snapped her fingers. Draco sneered.

Though he knew he wouldn't be able to touch the sumptuous-smelling food until he'd properly bathed, he had a question he was dying to ask. "How did you get Mrs Black... like that?"

Tossing back her hair, she let out a weary sigh. "Black family secret. We all have those sorts of portraits in our homes; the Black family is old and quite outspoken. If you don't know the proper charm, they'll be nattering on about everything all day every day."

"Sirius didn't know it." Up till now, Harry had all but forgotten that Narcissa was the one who helped get Sirius killed via information from Kreacher. He tried to rationalize that she had no choice-- it was easier to tolerate her presence that way.

"The Black family could be rather provincial when it came to teaching charms such as that. It was considered house maintenance, which would fall to the women. Wards fell to the men, I'm sure he had this place secured," she said, turning her back on him again to watch the elves serve Draco.

"Did you... like Sirius?" Harry didn't know why he asked, it was part of the unchangeable past. It didn't matter now.

"No, I didn't." She sat down in front of Draco who was looking between them with an expression of alarm.

Harry crossed his arms. "Why not?"

Narcissa was pensive, like she wanted to say something, but decided against it. "Because he didn't like me. Go have a shower. I'm leaving after breakfast. I don't want to waste my time talking with you about my cousin's possessiveness over your father. Shoo." With that, she spread the napkin over her lap and started to eat, brooking no further debate.

Turning, Harry headed back upstairs.

--

Narcissa's departure was anticlimactic. Harry expected tears or hysteria from Draco, but all he got was a wary relief and a quiet assurance that she would owl him once she was safe. She also promised to check on Hermione and Ron, but the tenor of her words didn't fill Harry with much hope that she'd remember. He was surprised when Draco's owl brought news that Hermione was awake, but not yet speaking.

"I think this occasion calls for butterbeer, don't you?" Draco flopped back on the chair in the drawing room and held out his hand as one of the house-elves Narcissa left brought it to him. He pitched his to Harry and held his hand out for another, which the second brought.

"She's not talking." Harry opened the butterbeer and sipped. He felt like a bad friend for not being there when she woke, but at least Draco seemed cheered.

Draco took a long slug. "She will," he said as he undid the stiff mandarin collar. At least now he didn't look like a vicar. "She'll be back and ticked off in no time." He took another long drink.

Harry nodded, exhaling a bit more of his tension as he tried to catch up with Draco's consumption. "You're right. It hasn't been long. They're brilliant healers there. Now you're mum's there and safe as well."

Brightening, Draco nodded. "Father's safe, she's safe, I'm mostly safe. Now I just have to deal with you."

The way Draco grinned wasn't quite as snide as it probably should have. Harry tilted his head and finished off the butterbeer and held his hand out for another. "Well, I guess life can't be perfect."

Shrugging, Draco finished his and demanded another. "What was that muck about Sirius downstairs? I didn't have them set for being close, but that sounded odd. Did she know your father?"

"It seems that way." Harry opened his fresh bottle and took a few gulps.

Draco didn't notice Harry's discomfort. "Mum told me that I should try and help you, back in school. I did, sometimes. Told you things you were too dense to catch on to. Sent that daft elf Dobby over to warn you, but did you heed it? Of course not." Draco rolled his eyes and drank again.

Harry's eyes widened. He remembered the twins saying that house-elves couldn't just leave the house on a whim. Draco had been sending him out to protect him? "I... er... I don't know how to respond to that."

Draco prattled on unfazed by Harry's bewilderment, "He almost killed you. To be honest, I figured it would work out for me either way." Draco took another drink and found the end of the bottle yet again. His head bobbed in the nod of the properly tipsy.

"Well, I almost killed you, too." Harry pointed out. Not wanting to focus on that unfortunate and bloody incident, he ironically babbled, "Bloody followed you around the bloody castle while you were being a bloody ponce." Finished with his bottle, he slammed it down on the stand beside him.

They were both brought another bottle each.

"You bloody loved following me around. You were checking my arse out. If not then, then you were definitely were doing it all over Spinner's End." Draco took another gulp but didn't look at all fussed about Harry looking at his arse.

Harry giggled and shook his head. "You were running around like a nancy in that tutu-- bending over in the frilly knickers for all to see."

"You loved it," Draco retorted in a slur. He blushed at his nerve as he looked into the bottle, measuring how much was left. Another was served before he asked for it.

"I'd never seen anything like it." Harry set his down. He was dizzy enough.

Draco finished his bottle and took the next one. "You're not going to again, either. Pettigrew's probably dead. I'll be lucky not to be dead by the end of this. Sod it, you'll be lucky not to be topped off eventually."

Harry didn't want to think about who may or may not die. He certainly didn't want to focus on his own death, so he changed the subject. "I vowed the other night you wouldn't have to wear that again."

"Even though you like it?" Draco stared at the bottle sitting between his legs, wetting the black brocade.

Looking away, Harry tried to be honest. "I don't like seeing you humiliated."

"That's new." Draco continued to stare at the bottle.

Harry took a moment and perked a brow. "So why did you wear it when you didn't have to?" He regretted it the moment he'd asked it; Draco's response could crush him.

The general gloom of Grimmauld place surrounded the boys, but Draco's paleness brought his features into a sparse relief. He looked at the fireplace and then brought the bottle to his lips. After a moment of intense concentration, he answered, "I liked the way you looked at me."

That was not the answer Harry was expecting. It was the answer he wanted; he just never dreamed he'd hear it. "You wanted protection," he tried to correct.

Draco waved his hand. "That was later and beside the point. I was scared and being dramatic."

"What did you want from me, then?"

Closing his eyes, Draco rested his head on the back of the couch and drank the last of the butterbeer and set it down. "For you to tell me it was going to be all right."

"You could've just asked," said Harry as he pushed the empties to the house-elves and crossed to sit next to Draco.

"That lacks drama." Draco leaned in to Harry's open arms and rested his forehead against his shoulder and sighed.

"I have enough drama, Draco." He slid his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes.

Draco tilted his head up and he looked blearily at Harry. Their faces were mere inches apart as they gazed into one another's eyes. First their noses brushed, nuzzling from their drunken lack of balance. Each choosing a side, their lips met. Harry could feel Draco's breath warming over his lips and cheek. They had just managed to part their lips and touch the pointed tips of their delicately warm tongues when the stone fireplace seemed to explode twice.

The abrupt noises caused Harry to leap from their embrace. He trained his wand on the wreckage of their open trunks. Their belongings were strewn liberally over the floor in large clumps of clothing and toiletries. This had the hallmark of a gift from Snape. Harry wondered if he opened them on the other side just to humiliate him by having Draco observe his frayed pants. The poetic justice of it seemed terribly unfair.

Whatever Harry's concerns about what Draco might think of his undergarments, they were quickly dismissed as Draco had yanked up a fuchsia gift bag from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Opening it, Draco pulled out the edible Dark Marks and the prank feather duster. Giving Harry a withering look, he asked, "Are these for me?"

"I thought... they were sort of funny... at the time. They seem less... amusing... now." Harry tried to grab them back, but Draco pulled them against his chest.

"Let me tally this up, Potter. First, you buy me a shirt that proclaims my virginity, then candies that mock my very real danger and to top it all off, you add a symbol of my humiliation," Draco face was expressionless, "And these are your gifts to me?"

Harry nodded weakly.

"You're a git." Draco rolled his eyes but popped a Dark Mark in his mouth and handed one to Harry. "You should've gotten Chocolate Frogs."

The Marks tasted like liquorice and Harry didn't care for them. While he was looking for somewhere to spit them out, he saw Draco pocket the feather duster in the reflection of the glass cases. Harry grinned.