A/N: So, here's chapter three. Draco and Harry try to deal with life in the same house.

This is Harry/Draco, post-Hogwarts, though the slash content is extremely light. There are very vague suggestions of other relationships as well.

I've got this all written out, though I'm not 100 percent sure of the chapters, yet. There are 46 sections, but I may combine some of the smaller sections with the ones around them. This was originally three shorter sections, but has been combined into one.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Dedication: To Foodie, who still betas me despite my predilection for slash, and for FionaFawkes, who read and reviewed every single chapter, and gave me such excellent feedback. Also, for everyone who's read and loved my Harry/Draco. This one's for you.

Chrysalis

-----3

Dinner had gone surprisingly well. Potter had insisted they make spaghetti and meatballs, and he had put Draco in charge of the meat. He'd been a touch squeamish about getting his hands dirty, but once he'd gotten into it, it had been kind of fun, really. Once he'd finished them, Potter had given him the task of making garlic bread, and Draco had found that even easier. Maybe this cooking for yourself thing wasn't so bad.

Potter had also insisted he set the table, and after a short argument, which had been mostly on Draco's side, he had handed him plates and cups, showed him where the silverware was, and left him to it. Draco had not had a problem with the placement of the dishes, but when he'd gone to retrieve the cutlery, he'd run into a slight difficulty.

"P—um, Harry…"

Potter had turned from the pot of sauce he'd been stirring "Yes?"

Draco looked down at the silverware in the drawer. "Which ones am I supposed to use?"

Potter shrugged. "Just the usual. It's not a fancy meal or anything…"

As though that was supposed to help. "I'm not sure what that means, really," Draco finally said in exasperation, looking at all of the different pieces there were. "How many of these do we need each?"

Potter turned to him, incredulous. "Draco, we're just having spaghetti. A knife and a fork would be enough, though a big spoon might be helpful."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "That's all?" Draco was used to even family meals requiring several pieces of silverware. He couldn't imagine a meal with less than five.

Potter laughed. "How much silverware do you usually use, Draco?"

Draco scowled at him. Like he'd paid attention to details like that. That was servant's work. "I never really paid much attention, beyond using the right piece for the right dish. If I needed it, it was there."

"How many pieces did you tend to have?"

Draco thought about it, and began to count them off on his fingers as he spoke. "At the very least, there was the salad fork, the dinner fork, a soup spoon, a dessert spoon, and a butter knife. And, if we were having meat, a steak knife."

"So what you're telling me is you're used to having meals where you have at least five pieces of silverware?" Potter asked, incredulous.

"I guess."

Potter snorted. "Well, I live a much simpler life, Draco. So do you, now."

Draco scowled. As though he'd wanted to be here. "And if I didn't want to?" he asked, annoyed.

Potter turned back to him. "Draco, this isn't the time. If, some day, you feel the need to turn the tables on me and show me how much I don't know about your life, then you'll have to earn the right to do that first, won't you?"

Draco looked at him a long moment before he responded. "Fine." Annoyed, but at least slightly aware that Potter was right, he pulled out two of each piece of the silverware Potter had mentioned, and finished setting the table.

Draco was surprised just how wonderful the food tasted once he began to eat. He wondered if all food made by human hands tasted this good, of if it might not have something to do with the fact that he'd helped make it. Whatever the reason, food had never tasted more delicious.

◦♦☼♦◦

They settled down to watch a movie that night. Potter had told him it was called Stand By Me. The title hadn't made much sense to Draco, but he hadn't cared. He was more interested in seeing the 'Telly' work again.

He was surprised at how much he felt pulled into the story. He even found himself identifying with one of the boys, despite the fact that the boy was almost nothing like him.

When the movie was over, Potter pressed a few buttons on his little box, and the Telly went off. He turned to Draco. "So, what did you think?"

Draco blinked for a moment, a bit stunned by the experience. He'd almost forgotten where he was, and it took time to settle himself back to reality. It was also rather difficult to put into words exactly how the movie had made him feel once he'd realized that Potter had asked him a question. "It was interesting." He thought for a moment, then asked, "Do all Muggle boys do that kind of thing?"

Potter smiled. "Which part?"

Draco shrugged. "Well, not the going to look for a body, but all of the paling around like that. Spending all your time together that way."

Potter shrugged. "Well, my cousin did."

Draco looked at him. "But you didn't?"

Potter's face closed off at the question, and he fiddled with the box in his hand a minute before responding. "I wasn't allowed out until I'd done my chores, and I never really had anyone to spend time with, anyway. Most of the time, I avoided Dudley and his gang if I could, to be honest."

Draco digested that for a moment. "Did your cousin do his chores fast?"

Potter snorted. "That would have been the day. No." He sighed. "I'd rather not talk about it, really. So, what did you like best in the movie?"

Draco thought about it for a moment. "Chris's relationship with his brother." It had been very familiar, to be honest. Wanting someone to approve of you who never seemed to have time for you—it was something Draco had accepted as normal.

Potter was looking at him oddly. "Really? His brother's such a creep. Why not Gordy and his brother?"

Draco shrugged. "I…I don't know. Gordy's so—straight-laced. Boring. Chris was the interesting one. He seemed pretty important, even though Gordy was the one telling the story."

Potter smiled. "That tells me a lot about you right there, Draco."

Draco's guard went up at that. He hadn't really thought about the fact that Potter might see why he was so interested in the character. "Oh, please. Just because I don't like the main character, you think that means something?"

"Draco…"

"No, I think we're done, Potter."

Potter's face clouded. "Apparently." He closed his eyes. "We need to deal with a few things tomorrow, though. And then we need to start working on a little cooperation on your part." His eyes opened again, and he looked at Draco for a moment. When he got no response, he glowered. "Go to bed, Draco. I'll talk to you about all this in the morning."

◦♦☼♦◦

The next morning didn't go much better. Sure, Potter had provided a home, but he seemed to disapprove of everything Draco did. Draco was sick of Potter judging him all the time. And making him work like a servant? That was just uncalled for.

Things got worse over the next few days. Potter had sent him to his room for using his last name more times than he could count. And though they were still watching movies, Draco had refused to discuss any of them, for fear of being analyzed by Potter after.

Finally, after a particularly difficult day, Potter had blown up at him. "What do you want from me, Draco? I'm trying to help you, can't you see that?"

"Why should I care?" Draco had responded, annoyed to find tears springing to his eyes. It wasn't like they'd never fought before. They'd fought all the time at school, but Draco had never felt the emotions quite this strong then. Of course, now he was in an eight-year-old body, and while he'd stopped crying somewhere around the age of six, his body was obviously still more prone to those sorts of emotions than not.

"Do you honestly want to end up being sent back to Azkaban?" Potter had asked, incredulous.

Draco had stared at him blankly. He wasn't sure what he wanted any more. He swallowed, hugging himself, then left the room. He just needed to get away. He spent most of the rest of that afternoon in his bedroom, the only place he could really go to get away from Potter.

Sometime around dinner, he got up and started down the hallway, but stopped just outside the living room when he heard Potter's voice. "I just don't know what to do to get through to him," he was saying.

A voice he only vaguely recognized responded. "It will take time, Harry. Slytherins don't trust easily. Severus never believed any of us in the Order accepted him."

"There were plenty who didn't. But this is different. Draco's not Severus. He's in a very different position. If I don't find a way to get through…" Draco heard him sigh. "I have to do this. I want to do this. He deserves it, even if I never see him after." Potter sounded entirely miserable, which surprised Draco. Why would he care if Draco never talked to him again?

"You're probably pushing too hard, Harry. The more you push, the more he'll pull away. He'll just think you want something." There was a long silence after that, and Draco wondered why.

Finally Potter responded with another sigh. "I know, Remus. And I know I can't…" The clock in the living room interrupted him, chiming five times, and when it finished, Potter's voice seemed calmer. "I should probably go see what he's up to, if he's willing to help with dinner, at least. Thanks for listening, Remus."

Draco didn't bother to wait for more. He hurried down to the bathroom and slipped inside, flushing the toilet when he heard Potter knock on his bedroom door. He ran water and put his hands through it. It wouldn't do to have Potter think he had been listening after all. He opened the door to find Potter waiting for him.

He nodded. "Did you need something?" he asked.

"It's almost time for dinner. You up to helping?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You mean I have a choice?"

Potter sighed. "Draco, I know you're upset. I know this is different and difficult. But won't your freedom be worth the effort when all this is over?" Draco shrugged, but Potter continued, obviously trying hard to find a way to get through to him this time. "I know we were never friends, but I thought that maybe, somewhere deep inside, we weren't that different, really. That somehow, I'd be able to reach you. If you'd just let me."

Draco was ready to snarl at him, until he remembered what he'd overheard. He knew Harry was trying. What he didn't know was why. His voice was still cold when he spoke. "How did you figure that, Po—" Realizing what he'd been about to do, Draco tried to calm himself. He took a deep breath, and tried again. "Harry. What made you think we were anything alike? We hated each other all through school."

"I know that you approached me to be friends twice." Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know I turned you down. And I had good reason to at the time."

"Please! You didn't even know me!"

"I'd already heard you rant on about the evils of Muggleborns, and at the time, was I really that different from a Muggleborn myself? How would you have reacted that day in the shop if I had told you my name?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know." When Potter stayed silent, Draco sighed. "I suppose I would have been a bit more friendly," he said.

"And if I'd been alone on the train…"

"I would have done everything I could to befriend you. Father would have been thrilled." Potter winced at that, and Draco screwed up his face. "Yeah, okay, maybe that wouldn't have been so good…"

Potter chuckled at that. "That's rather an understatement, don't you think?"

Draco managed a sheepish smile. If he had managed to befriend Harry Potter, his father would have had a ball finding ways to control him, or worse, destroy him… "Okay, so what should I have done?" Draco asked.

Potter shook his head. "I don't think there was anything you could have done, short of being sorted into another house, really."

Draco looked at him, appalled. "That's not funny," he scowled. He tried to imagine himself in Ravenclaw, or god forbid, Gryffindor. What would his life have been like?

"I've only told a couple of people this, but I was almost sorted into Slytherin, you know…"

Draco looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You're kidding, right?" Potter shook his head. "You? In Slytherin? They would have eaten you alive!"

Potter nodded. "I know. I would have been miserable. But it's still true."

Draco shook his head. "I don't know why that matters anyway, Harry. You're a Gryffindor hero, and you think that you have to save everyone. I just happen to be a convenient target." He crossed his arms, and waited to see what Potter would have to say to that.

"Yeah, Ron and Hermione are always telling me I have a 'saving people' thing. But you're a Slytherin. Shouldn't you be trying to take advantage of that fact, instead of fighting it?"

Draco pursed his lips. "Point." He took a deep breath, then nodded. "Alright. So I try harder. Any chance that you'll try at least a little to understand where I'm coming from?"

Harry let out a snort. "Draco, what do you think I've been doing? It's why I want to talk to you about these movies we've been watching. It's not a bad thing for you to identify with the characters in some way. Most people do."

Draco still didn't like the idea, but if it would get Potter to lay off even a little, it would be worth giving it a shot. Maybe he'd overreacted just a bit? "Fine. So, if we talk after the movies, and I don't want to talk about something?"

Potter looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I suppose you need to deal with some things yourself before you're willing to be open about them with me. Will you at least promise me you'll think about talking things over with me once you've thought about them a bit? I can't help you if I don't know when you're struggling with something. "

"I suppose I could do that."

Potter smiled. "Thank you, Draco. I know this isn't exactly comfortable for you, but I really want this to work." He stood up from the chair he'd relaxed into, and moved to where Draco was standing. "Why don't we play a game after dinner? You seemed to like the speeder-bike game when we played that…"

Draco grinned. "Fine. I get Irons!" he shouted as he sprinted down the hall towards the kitchen.