It was a few strokes before midnight when the howling started. Harry shifted uneasily in his bed, recounting how Snape had cryptically warned them earlier in the day that this might happen. Fenrir and his cadre of werewolves planned to attack the house. Relying on the knowledge that Sirius's father had placed every kind of ward and protection on Grimmauld Place, Harry tried not to worry as he listened to the conflicting and terrible baying of preternatural beasts. The racket was so intense that Harry missed the creak of his door opening.

"Harry?" Draco's moonlit hair shone almost brighter than Lolly's as he shifted his weight from foot to foot in the dark frame of the door. As a fresh bout of unearthly screaming threatened to shake the house, his pointed face tilted upwards and towards the window, illuminating his fearful expression.

Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone look so scared, broken or beautiful in his life. He sat up, unable to tear his gaze from him. "Yes?"

The steps Draco took shadowed his face again, but Harry watched his progress across the room till he was standing next to the bed. Draco looked back at the window again. From this vantage, Harry could see the soft strands of pale hair trembling. Harry reached out to Lolly and tugged her gently as he scooted back. He pulled the covers back in an invitation that Draco took, kicking out of his slippers before kneeling on the bed.

A particularly piercing gale of shrieks made Draco jump. Harry reached for Draco, smoothing his hair down. He slid his thumb along his jaw line to turn Draco to face him. "It's all right, Draco. They can't get in."

Draco's expression hardened before it turned to fear as a throaty howl tore through the night. "Fenrir," he whispered.

Harry hadn't spent enough time with Fenrir to know what he sounded like. He wasn't sure he could even pick Remus's call out from the rest. It made him wonder how much time Draco had spent with Fenrir. He recalled that Draco had been none too happy with seeing the man on the tower that night. "Sirius said his father put every imaginable ward on this place. They won't get in."

Poking his wand up from his chest behind Lolly, Draco said, "I know a lot of hexes if they do get in. Ever since Snape said that Lupin was one..." His head jerked towards the window again as a fresh chorus of baying began.

"Then we'll definitely be fine." Noticing that Draco wasn't settling into bed, Harry dropped his hand and wiggled into the covers, the movement pulled his night shirt up, exposing some of his belly over his pyjama pants. He didn't realize how placating that sounded until he caught Draco's suspicious glare. "I don't know any hexes like that. I'm glad that you do."

Draco relented and slid his legs under the covers, still clutching his wand and Lolly to his chest. "I know a lot of dark magic, you know."

"I don't doubt that." Harry watched Draco's expression turn to a more familiar haughtiness and he bit back the urge to grin at his puffing himself up. "I'll rest easier knowing you're going to take care of me, then."

"Are you taking the mickey?" Draco looked guarded, but just then inhaled some of Lolly's mane and sputtered. He pushed her away and looked quite fussy before another loud shout broke him out of his irritation and back to fear.

Harry took Lolly from Draco and set her up higher on the pillows over their heads and reached out to him. "No, actually I was going to go to your room. The howling is rather creepy, isn't it?" He congratulated himself on accurately navigating Draco's defenses when he was allowed to embrace the other boy.

"Well, I don't want you to be scared," said Draco, tucking in closer to Harry.

"I feel much better now." Exhaling, Harry knew he really meant it, but not for the reasons that Draco believed. He'd thought about their kiss in the drawing room to the point of distraction. The brush of soft lips, the feel of Draco's hair tickling his cheek, the smell of him, almost musky, but light-- the faded smell of his soap and perspiration.

Draco's body leaned closer to Harry's pressing against him in an awkward jut of bony bodies that was somehow comforting against the noisy tenebrous night. There was something so thrilling about holding Draco this way, knowing that he was comforting him back, feeling his breath hot on his neck and his fingers curling around the back of his nightshirt. Harry felt needed. Sure, the Wizarding world needed him to defeat Voldemort, but this was so much more personal; being needed by one person, and not for his power, but for personal comfort.

He was just starting to really relax into the holding when he felt a spark, a shift in Draco's position that caused his hip to slide against his cock. It triggered a terrifyingly slow chain reaction in his body as he relived the closeness, the kissing, and the intimacy of being this close to someone else, someone he desired-- someone he'd seen in those fishnets and-- Harry shifted his hips back. In reaction, Draco's hands clutched his shirt and he wriggled closer again, driving his hip against Harry's now nearly full erection.

Draco froze.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry steeled himself for the conniption. His cheeks were flush with anticipatory humiliation as he waited. He berated himself for getting hard at such an odd time, with wolves literally at the door. What kind of a horny freak was he?

But Draco did not move. In fact, he was fairly certain that Draco's breath had stopped. Screwing up his Gryffindor courage, he opened one eye. Draco's face was pinched up in expectation of shouting. Harry cleared his throat.

The look on Draco's face when he opened his eyes was unreadable between fear and curiosity. Neither boy noticed that the howling was waning, their gazes were fixed on one another before Draco finally averted his eyes and leaned back against Harry.

Just about to breathe a sigh of relief, Harry found himself gasping as Draco's hip brushed against him again, this time more firmly. He tightened his arms around Draco, not sure what else to do. Again, Draco's body dragged against him and Harry tentatively pressed his own hips forward in weak response.

All motion stilled a moment and Harry experienced a sheer moment of terror thinking he was a complete pervert who had read Draco wrong. Then the pressure resumed, paused as he felt Draco shift, and then he felt something firmer than a hip slide next to his cock.

Harry wanted desperately to say something, to ask a question or to just stop and make sure that this was really happening, but aside from not having any words come to mind, he was scared that it would make Draco stop. The feeling of Draco's hands on his lower back as they both worked out a responsive rhythm between them made his pulse race and his eyelids flutter.

Just knowing that he'd elicited this same response from Draco was nearly enough to make him come, but the fact that they were doing this together, frotting in bed, against one another, made it hard to focus. His cock strained against his flannel pants, sticking at the tip from his precome. The soft whimpers and needy breaths coming from Draco drowned out everything else, and Harry forced his eyes open to peer at the blissfully bunched expression on Draco's face.

He felt Draco shuddering first, and he moved his hands to the other boy's hips to hold him steady as he thrust harder against him, the select pieces of material sliding between them. He could feel the warmth of Draco's come making his pyjamas soggy, and that final stimulation made him lose all focus, his body quivering with the final expulsion. His breathing came out in sharp, punctuated pants against the side of Draco's sated face.

Though he tried to look at Draco, his eyes were shut, and it was evident he didn't want to talk, but just to rest. Harry's stomach knotted with worry that Draco would deny it all in the morning, but his persistent staring did nothing to make Draco look back at him. As the hour grew late, Harry faded, hoping for the best when they awoke.

--

It was predictable that Draco wasn't in the bed the next morning. Harry found his belly cleaned of all evidence of their debauchery and the hall smelled heavily of Draco's soap. He tried to prepare himself for Draco to give him the brush off or hide from him all day. What he didn't expect was to bumble into the kitchen to find Draco eating breakfast and reading a scroll as if nothing had happened. He didn't look up when Harry entered, but said, "Mum visited Granger and says that she's fine, but that she's driving the staff of St. Mungo's nutters with all of her questions." Draco gave the note a wry grin as he finished reading. By the end of it, his smile was sincere and open.

"What else did she say?" Harry crossed to Draco, trying to peek as the note rolled back up and Draco pocketed it.

Draco smirked at him in a way that made Harry suddenly feel rather dirty. "That you're a nosy snitch who wants to read private communication."

Harry rubbed his hand through his hair and blushed, averting his eyes as he took a seat at the table, helping himself to some of the eggs. "You looked happy. I was curious."

"She's safe."

The answer was simple enough to ring true and Harry had little doubt that was what had caused Draco's happiness, although he'd have liked to believe he had something to do with it. "So it looks like I didn't bung it up so badly."

"You were lucky." It was the response Harry had anticipated, but not the voice. Harry followed Draco's gaze to the kitchen's fireplace where Snape was looking at them expectantly. "Malfoy, I hardly remembered what you looked like when not in a dress."

Draco looked down, the corner of his lip twitched as if he were holding back a scathing retort.

Harry stepped up, "Seems you were so caught up in his clothing, you forgot for a moment he was a boy."

"I wasn't the only one." Snape's reply came quickly. His awkward expression revealed that he regretted saying it. Draco shifted his feet, breaking the silence with the scraping of his shoe. "In any case, I received word that Miss Granger is on the road to recovery and Mrs Malfoy is safe although rather put out by the inconvenience."

Clearing his throat, Draco said, "Actually, one of the healers is one of her old dorm mates and that they've had a lovely time catching up."

Snape narrowed his eyes at Draco, who looked down. "In any case, I am no closer now to finding out what the final two Horcruxes are than I was before, mostly because I haven't had the time as I've been trying to cover up the mess you've made, Potter."

Harry gave an apathetic nod. He flopped onto the decrepit couch and placed both hands over his face. "Right, right. So very unwise, I get it. Come back when you have some news."

"I do not have to help you, Potter, I'm doing so out of my own..."

"Your own what? Your own fear?" Harry sat up and glared at the fireplace.

The fireplace glowed red, showing that Snape had left, but then it flashed green on his return. "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. I was going to ask if you needed food, but I sincerely hope you starve." That said; he was truly gone this time.

"His heart's going to break when he finds out Mrs Weasley's cooking for us," said Harry.

Draco didn't respond, just kept staring into the empty fire.

--

"I wonder if goading Snape is really the prudent option," Draco said over dinner. He'd complained about rewarming charms, but the first bite of the succulent, flaky crust of the Shepherd's pie quelled his protest.

"It probably isn't, but no one's really accused me of prudence before." Harry swished his pumpkin juice as if it were wine, mimicking Draco's movements. His table manners were lacking, Draco had complained, so Harry was attempting to do it right, even if he felt like a ponce doing it.

"Fair enough." Draco nodded to Harry's swishing in encouragement. "I suppose that taunting cold blooded killers is your full-time occupation."

"Something I was born to do," Harry muttered, bemoaning his fate. "Hang on; you don't believe there was a prior plan with Dumbledore?"

Draco gazed at the dark doorway with the stairs that led to the entry hall. After a few moments of thought, he shook his head. "I don't really know. Mum's afraid of him. She says that You-Know-Who is afraid of him as well." He nodded to Harry's incredulous expression. "It wouldn't surprise me at all to find that he was playing both sides to the middle to try and come out on top."

"Why would you say that?" Harry found that he was no longer hungry and shoved the half pie away from him.

"It's... more of a feeling than anything else-- that and his plans to be headmaster of Hogwarts someday. He said that to me a few times, you know? Now Dumbledore's out of the way. You-Know-Who would probably want to run it if what my father said about his obsession with the school was true. So, he'd have to go, too. It makes sense in a warped, Snape sort of way." Draco also pushed his plate aside and he looked around the kitchen before pulling his wand to clear away the dishes.

Harry never really trusted Snape, but he couldn't put his finger on why. "I wonder how good his information is going to be given what he wants and well..." Harry gestured to extend his speech and Draco stood up from the table.

"In spite of what he may or may not want, if he wants You-Know-Who out of the way, then his information should be good." He started to leave and Harry worried that he'd offended him.

Grabbing Draco's arm, Harry stood and stopped him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... bring up... or insult Snape..."

"I'm just tired, Harry. We should go to bed." Draco pulled his arm away and started up the kitchen stairs. Harry followed.

"But we're not done discussing this."

"We can talk about it in your room."

Harry was shocked. Certainly Draco couldn't mean what it sounded like. All day he'd acted as if nothing had happened the night before, but Draco's words made it sound as if he'd intended to stay the night in his room. Trying not to get his hopes up, he followed.

Draco veered off to his own room and Harry exhaled. It was a foolish thought, but he found that he had hoped for a different result. Sighing, he went to his trunk and pulled out his pyjamas. He was still changing into them when Draco entered the room as if he owned it. Lolly had been left on Harry's bed, so Harry wasn't surprised that Draco made a beeline for her.

Then Draco turned back the covers and slid in. "Insult Snape all you want," he said, rolling over onto his side as Harry scrambled to finish buttoning up his night shirt. "Ever since that... well, since Dumbledore died... he's acted as if he owns me." He paused and stared back at Harry who was still gobsmacked that Draco had just hopped into his bed.

Though they'd shared a bed before; now they didn't have to. He wondered if Draco intended for them to do what they'd done the night before, but his ramble about their prior conversation made it sound more friendly than erotic. Still, the notion of what had happened was enough to keep Harry distracted from the conversation. Had he told Draco anything about that night? That he'd been there? He couldn't recall telling Draco about the Horcrux that wasn't, the replacement locket with the cryptic note inside. "The problem is," he said as he crossed to the bed and got in on the other side, "we don't have other options. Although... well, supposedly there's some R. A. B. character that doesn't seem to care for Voldemort."

Draco flinched that the use of that name, but his brows went up. "Someone... inside?"

"I guess he is, yeah. He actually... well, it's a long story, but basically he got to one of the Horcruxes before I did and left a note for Voldemort." Harry turned on his side and Draco rolled over to face him.

"Someone else seeking out Horcruxes? But none of the others have come up with notes?" Draco scooted a little closer and Harry caressed Draco's arm.

"No, no other notes. To be honest, I'm thinking he's dead. I don't suppose you can cross Voldemort like that and get away with it."

That notion sparked something in Draco, as his eyes reflected something registering. "You know, I bet he is dead. But I think you know who he is."

"I don't. I don't know who half of those Death Eaters who attacked Hogwarts are." He didn't like Draco's self-satisfied sneer.

"Please, Potter. You mean you hung about with Sirius Black, live in his home, and you haven't sussed out who R. A. B. might be? Have you looked at the family tree?" Draco scoffed at Harry's puzzled look. "Regulus Black. Sirius's brother. It would make sense. He was a talented wizard by my mum's accounts. She never knew why he was murdered. Betrayal would definitely do it. "

"I didn't know his middle name?" Harry offered lamely.

Draco sat up and grabbed Harry's wrist. He tugged them to the drawing room where the Black family tree tapestry hung. He followed the family line until he found Regulus's name next to the scorch mark of what was presumably Sirius's name. Tapping it with an elegantly poised finger, Draco said, "Atilius. Regulus Atilius Black."

--

Evidently, solving the mystery of who R.A.B. was had been so tiring, that Draco did not repeat his performance the night before, a fact that Harry found quite disappointing. He went over the way they'd fallen asleep and concluded that he probably should have pretended to be afraid of something to give Draco a reason to cling to him. Tonight, there would be ghost stories before bedtime.

He polished off the last of the leftover Shepherd's pie and wandered to the drawing room where Draco was finishing up a letter, presumably to his mother. Taking a seat next to where Draco had set the fire, he thought about how he could've missed R.A.B. being the initials of someone related to his godfather. Granted, Draco was a clever boy. The planning that it took to get the Death Eaters into the school alone showed cleverness. But he wasn't exactly Hermione. Then again, he was rather aware of bloodlines and much savvier as to who was a Death Eater and who wasn't.

The fluttering of wings caught his attention and he watched the bird shrink into the sky, trailing the precious letter from Draco to his mum. "Do you think it's wise?"

Draco whirled around and looked at Harry after shutting the window. "Is what wise?"

"Sending so many letters?"

"I don't see you easing off on missives to your compatriots."

The defensiveness made Harry relent, conceding the point that they were both guilty of taking their fortification for granted. He exhaled, his mind scrambling for something to say. He went around in a full circle, thinking abstractly that there wasn't anything for dinner then to the letter and again to R.A.B. which led inevitably to the topic of why they hadn't messed around the night before. He eyed Draco, who had taken the spot across from him in front of the fire. It was right on the tip of his tongue to ask when there was a loud bang that signified the door flying open and the loud humming of Molly Weasley crashing in. "Hullooo... anyone home? Oh, good show on Mrs Black."

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed up from the armchair. "That's my cue. Let me know when she leaves."

Harry frowned at being left alone with Molly, but he supposed that Draco antagonizing her would be worse. He headed down to the kitchen where Molly was unpacking prepared food and setting it into the cupboard. It was all charmed to remain fresh as it was when she finished making it. She set out a plate of biscuits for Harry.

"I see young Mr Malfoy has decided against gracing us with his presence."

Grabbing for a biscuit, Harry frowned. "He was tired."

"I'm sure." She smiled to show that it didn't vex her in the least. "Hermione will be at St. Mungo's for just a few more days. Ron wonders if you'd like him to come back."

Again Ron was posing that question, which Harry recognized as needling about how things were going with Draco. He wondered if Molly was trying to ask that same question. Remembering the weird night with Ginny, he figured she had to know. "No, he should stay with Hermione. It's fine here." His eyes dropped to the biscuits, he didn't want to see the look on her face if she did understand that subtle code.

After a moment's silence, she spoke, "Harry, about the other night-- I've been meaning to speak to you about Ginny and all of..."

"I don't want to--"

Molly held up her hand for silence, and Harry stopped. "She's very young, Harry, as are you. I don't know what you have going on in your life but-- well, most boys your age don't really know what they want as far as that goes. But you're not most boys. I just want you to know that no matter how you feel about whom; you are always welcome at the Weasley table."

Harry looked at her, his eyes wide and his smile bright. He stood from the table and wrapped his arms around her, thrilled that he really did have family.

--

By the time he'd looked up from the chessboard, it was in the early hours of the morning. He'd been having so much fun listening to gossip about Order members from Molly, that he'd completely lost track of the time.

Seeing her off, he ran upstairs to find Draco already asleep clutching Lolly. He sighed. No fondling tonight either. Harry changed into his night clothes and spooned behind Draco. His arm wrapped around his waist, fingers slipped past the gap in the buttons to brush against his skin.

Draco moaned softly and wiggled against Harry. The brush of arse made Harry whimper in response-- and Draco did it again. Harry pressed his nose against Draco's hair, smelling the citrus tang of his conditioner and feeling the silken strands on his face. He was nervous, he didn't want to stop Draco's grinding against him, but he wanted to... touch him.

The soft moans and sighs only served to embolden Harry as he fished his hand out of Draco's shirt and started to tease along the drawstring band of his pyjama pants. Draco sucked in his stomach in response to the touches. Nervous muscles shied away from Harry's tender stroking as he stroked a tentative finger over a wet spot on the material and then down over the rigid shaft of Malfoy's silk-covered erection.

Draco pushed back harder against Harry, grinding more deeply and Harry's cock found a soft space between his cheeks. Harry pushed his other hand under Draco and gripped his hip to hold him better in place for frotting against. The arousal and the headiness were too much to keep Harry's curious hand from Draco's cock. He bypassed the waistband and it dug into the back of his wrist.

The feel of Draco's cock was almost velveteen, the softest skin that he'd ever touched, including his own. His cock seemed to bend a slightly different way than his own, but it filled his palm and his thumb brushed over the tip. He was fascinated by even just touching it; exploring this new part of Draco. He wished he could see it, but he knew as certain as anything that being greedy would stop this-- and he desperately didn't want that to happen.

He pressed soft kisses against the side of Draco's neck as their bodies expanded and contracted together. His hand wrapped around Draco and they increased their speed. Harry imagined what it would be like to actually be inside of Draco, to hear these moans coming from him like this, for them to actually be completely naked, touching one another, feeling their hot, wet skin slapping together. His face was starting to break out into a sweat and his body trembling. He could hear the loud gasps from Draco-- a sound he was still learning that signified his climax. After a beat, he felt warmth around his hand, and he used it to continue pulling more on Draco, loving the slick wetness between them as their clothes stuck, increasing the friction. He pushed his hips forward more insistently, feeling the last bits of hesitancy falling away before he gave way to it, his mouth open and Draco's name breathy from his lips as he came against his back.

In that position, they slept.

--

The next morning, Harry awoke to loud crashing and banging and flashes of magical light. He was up out of the bed with his wand at the ready in a flash and raced over to Draco's room. As Draco had slept in bed with him the night before, he didn't expect to find him in this room waving his wand. The air was heavy with humidity and the scent of Draco's body wash. His hair was still in wet tendrils around his head and he was holding a cup of tea, giving the impression that he'd woken up, bathed, started tea and then calmly proceeded to destroy his living quarters.

"What?" Crash "Are." Bang "You doing?" Tear

Draco looked up in surprise and paused his wand. He finished his cup of tea and handed it to Harry. "Good morning. Fill that, would you?"

Before Harry could protest that he was not a house-elf, a house-elf swiped the cup from him and returned it filled with Earl Grey.

"Lovely, thanks." Draco took a sip and white light began shooting from his wand, upturning the dresser, which spilled out its contents. The light traced over each object systematically and dropped it. Harry was about to reassert that he had no idea what Draco was doing when an otherwise average bundle of socks exploded into pink goo and then splattered on the floor. Draco wrinkled his nose. "I hate when that happens."

"Yes, it's tragic," said Harry. "What are we talking about?"

"I'm looking for something."

Recasting the spell, they watched the rest of the items in the dresser come up for magical examination and pass. Or fail. Harry wasn't sure. "Fair enough. Did you lose something?"

Sighing as if he were very put upon, Draco flipped one hand to his waist and ceased his spell casting. "No, I didn't lose anything. It's not like I came here with a lot, did I?" Harry shrugged at him; he didn't take inventory, so what did he know? "I sent a letter out to my mum this morning about Regulus, to see if she knew anything about him."

"Did you--"

"No, I didn't tell her anything." Draco waved his hand at Harry to ward off further interruption. "In any case, she mentioned that when he was younger she knew he had a journal. Since this is his room, I thought it might be here."

"Did you consider maybe going through the drawers by hand?" Harry looked at the wreckage-- overturned chairs, mattress askew, the wardrobe was open and tipped to its side. Even the curtains were off the window and crumpled in a heap across the box springs.

Draco looked at Harry pityingly. "No. Why would I do that? Besides, it's likely to have magic on it and I'd rather not end up a pile of goo or magic addled." At Harry's questioning look, he said, "Regulus was quite the wizard, evidently. If he didn't want a snoop like say, Sirius, going through his things, he'd probably put a load of protections on his possessions, right?"

Harry looked at the pile of goo and back to Draco. "But the socks?"

"Probably was something else he was trying to hide. I don't even want to speculate what a teenaged boy would want with bundled socks."

"Right." Harry's eyes widened and suddenly he wondered just how kinky a wizard could be getting with his footwear. Draco was right, he didn't want to speculate. "Hang on, do you mean a journal like Tom Riddle's?"

"Could be. I'm not sure. There's no guarantee it would really have any useable information in it or if he'd even have it here. Not even Mum knows what all happened other than Regulus had second thoughts and a few days later You-Know-Who had him killed." Draco looked around the room. His expression was bland given the carnage he was taking in. "If he still kept a journal, it might've been with him, or someplace he was staying. I don't know who would have that kind of information, though."

Harry nodded as he tried to think of who would know that kind of information. Sirius came to mind immediately, but being dead, he wouldn't be much help. Remus, maybe, if they could get a hold of him. He could owl Tonks, maybe she could find him. He was deep in thought when Draco said, "Oh, owls came for you from Granger and Weasley."

Taking them, Harry righted the bed and had a seat. He glanced at Ron's note, which had little on it other than to say that they'd be home in the next couple of days and that he shouldn't be doing anything he wouldn't do.

He was about to open Hermione's missive when Draco interrupted, "Oh, and Mum said that there was some sort of Black family heirloom-- a pair of mirrors where people could talk to one another-- that should be around here. She thought it would be nice if she and I could have those to talk to while she's at St. Mungo's."

The mirrors. Harry sighed, not sure what to say to Draco about that. Not only did he only have one-- he'd broken it in a fit of rage at the end of fifth year. Back when he was so into breaking things. Gearing up with a long intake of breath, he admitted, "I have one of them."

Draco looked at Harry, his brows raised and his hand rotating to encourage Harry to finish his thought. "I don't know where the other one is. I thought Sirius had it... but then... well, the veil made him vanish and, er... I haven't seen it around here, but we could look?"

"Have you tried speaking through the mirror to see if you can talk to Sirius from beyond?"

Hoping to avoid admitting his foolish destruction, he tried, "Draco, don't be... that's impossible."

"Actually, it's not impossible at all. If he had the mirror, there is always a chance. Bring it to me." Draco took a seat next to Harry and gave him nudge.

"Well, see... that's the thing." Harry stood and pushed his glasses up his nose before nervously ruffling his hair. "I did try and speak to him, but when he didn't respond... I er... got angry."

"Yes, of course you did. You're very," Draco cast his hand around as if he could catch the adjective from the air, "volatile."

Harry gave Draco a look. As far as he was concerned, he had a right to be volatile. His godfather had just been killed in front of him and he had found out he was going up against a foe and it had been destined and... well everyone knows that story. "I broke the mirror."

"...and do you still have it?"

"It should be in my trunk." He let Draco guide him from Regulus's room to Sirius's room. Draco didn't seem alarmed that the mirror was broken, which gave Harry some hope that it might be repaired. To what end, he wasn't sure. He'd called for Sirius already and he didn't answer. That was that.

Harry knelt before his trunk and opened it. He blushed at Draco's observation the untidy arrangement of his clothing, books and miscellany as the other boy knelt next to him. In the corner of the trunk was the frame of the mirror. A few shards still hung to the silvery edge. He looked up at Draco and shook his head as he handed the broken metal over.

The dull mirror backing looked ordinary to Harry, but as Draco slid his fingers along the side, he realized that towards the bottom was a tiny, carved capital G. He was about to make a remark about it when Draco tapped his wand to the jagged glass and said, "Reparo."

Somehow, Harry was let down that the mirror was fixed with such an elementary spell. Certainly something with such powerful magic should require something a bit more sophisticated to fix it. But there it was, Sirius's mirror in perfect condition, reflecting Harry's cynical countenance. He took the proffered mirror.

"Call for him." Draco folded his arms and nodded to assuage Harry's doubt.

This was ridiculous. Sirius wasn't going to be on the other end of this mirror, he'd tried it before. Even if Sirius did have the mirror, it was nothing more than fantasy to think that he could possibly be reached. That wasn't how death worked, that wasn't even how magic worked. Was it? Well, he didn't really know how the veil worked, in most of his experience; curtains weren't as lethal as they seemed to be in the Ministry of Magic.

"Draco, I tried this before and it didn't work. This is ridiculous."

Draco sighed and shook his head. "I have two questions, and then if you really can't be arsed to even try, then fine."

"All right."

"One, knowing you, you probably looked into the mirror, called for him and when you didn't get what you wanted in under half a minute, you threw it across to room in anger. Am I right?"

Harry averted his eyes. "Next question."

"Do you have a better idea?" Draco smirked.

It could be a monumental waste of time, although really, how long Draco expected them to sit and wait for an answer wasn't what was truly vexing Harry. He was filled with a myriad of emotions at the prospect of possibly talking to his godfather again. If it did work, how much time had he wasted by having that moment of arrogant disgust that had caused him to destroy the mirror? But bigger than that was the notion of speaking to Sirius again.

The issue of his godfather had been mourned and resolved in the summer before his sixth year. It was almost too painful to open that door again, to see him after all this time.

"Sirius?"