--Well, it had to be an "S" of course. It couldn't possibly start with anything else. And I like Shelley.
--Gray's Anatomy is a real book. In fact, there are different versions of it.
Chapter 7 – Tuesday, 15 October 1996
Draco woke slowly, unwilling to relinquish the perfect comfort and warmth he was experiencing. Eventually it penetrated that he was laying against Harry with one of Harry's arms about his waist and the other bent with the hand wrapped lightly about Draco's left forearm. Draco looked at the contrasting flesh analytically. They both had the same base olive skin tone, but Harry was several shades darker. Draco decided he liked it.
Draco also noticed that Harry's fingers were actually long and elegant, something he hadn't expected. Even so, Harry's hands were far larger than his own and that he had expected. Draco knew he was small boned. He might look like his father but his bone structure came directly from his delicate looking mother. Sometimes it bothered him and sometimes he lorded his looks over others. He wondered what Harry thought, if he found Draco attractive.
Becoming aware of the increasing insistence of his bladder, Draco decided to leave Harry to his sleep and attempt to venture to the bathroom on his own. Disentangling himself, he sat up slowly. When he felt no head-rush he stood, also slowly. Evaluating himself again, Draco nodded in satisfaction and walked carefully to the bathroom. Relieving himself with no difficulties, Draco once again thanked the gods that Harry had somehow known the spells used at St. Mungo's on patients who were not able to visit a bathroom on their own. He couldn't imagine the embarrassment he would have felt if Harry actually had had to assist him relieve himself.
In fact, Draco was rather thankful that he was actually up and about today at all; he hadn't expected to be able to stand on his own, much less walk, until Wednesday. He'd known Harry's massages were helping but he hadn't realized just how much. Maybe he should mention it?
He stepped over to the mirror, looked himself over, and promptly grimaced. Merlin, he was a mess! His hair was everywhere! Draco contemplated whether it would be safe to take a shower. He felt rather spry, considering, but certainly not up to his normal self. He decided it would likely be safe enough if he sat down and walked to the shower and turned on and adjusted the water before stepping in. Using the shower wall to steady himself, Draco sat on the shower floor, hoping it was clean, and let the warm spray wash away the last three days.
It wasn't as if Harry had left Draco swimming in his own sweat over the last couple days. He hadn't. Harry had washed Draco twice, actually. He had been utterly mortified as Harry wiped him down with a warm cloth all over. Draco had protested vehemently, well, as vehemently as he could while still exhausted, but Harry had simply said "That's nice." and continued his ministrations. Draco had also tried to fight him off but had not been anywhere near strong enough to be even close to halfway effective and thus Harry had had his way with little trouble. Draco was extremely glad he was strong enough this morning to wash himself. Harry hadn't taken any liberties, but still. Noticing bottles of shampoo and liquid soap on the floor in the corner, Draco got to work putting himself to rights.
An hour later Draco had finished his shower, dried himself off, and combed his hair. He was tired now but felt infinitely better. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went to see if he could find something to wear. Stepping through the door, he was surprised to find Harry once again sitting at the small desk, writing. Draco wondered who he was writing to so extensively. "I'm sorry if I woke you," Draco said.
"You didn't. I was awake before you. Once you were in the shower I got up and changed the bedsheets. Do you think you've enough energy to sit up at the table to eat breakfast? Or would you rather go back to bed for a few hours and eat later?" Harry spoke calmly but Draco could see the concern, for him, in Harry's eyes as the other boy looked him over critically, judging his well-being.
"Breakfast. A small one, though. And how do you know you were awake before me? I was awake for a bit before I got up," Draco said a bit petulantly.
Harry answered him casually as he went to the food box to choose breakfast, "I could feel you. In my head. I could tell that you were asleep and I could tell when you started waking and I could tell when you were fully awake. I've been able to tell since the first day. How about mixed fruit?"
Draco blinked in surprise at this unexpected revelation. He couldn't tell those things about Harry. Then again, he was recovering from physical and magical exhaustion. Likely he wouldn't have been aware enough to tell even if it was an ability he now possessed due to the bond. He'd have to pay attention the next few days. "Fruit is fine," he answered absently.
Harry walked towards Draco holding a medium sized bowl in his right hand. When he met up with Draco he placed his left arm around the other boy's waist and led him gently to the table, seating him after placing the bowl on the table. Draco blinked, taking in his new position in mild surprise. He must be more tired than he thought; maybe he should have gone to bed instead.
A small plate of fruit appeared in front of him on the table and Draco stared at it blankly for a moment before realizing what it was and picking up a fork to stab a plump blackberry. He definitely should have opted for bed, Draco decided, as he utilized nearly his entire concentration to eat a dozen or so berries and a couple pieces of melon. He was going to eat a grape, but when his attempt to spear it with his fork resulted in it skittering to the opposite end of the plate, Draco figured he'd had enough and put down his utensil. He didn't remember getting to bed.
The first thing Draco noticed when he woke next was the incessant scrabbling of quill on parchment. "What in Merlin's name is he writing now? It can't be for more books."
"Harry," Draco called softly, opening his eyes.
"Hey," Harry replied from beside him, just as softly. "Feeling better?"
Draco sat up cautiously and gave himself a mental checkup. Nodding, Draco turned to the boy sitting next to him and said, "Yes. Much better, thank you." Tilting his head slightly to one side, Draco asked, "What are you writing now? You can't be sending for more books?"
Harry chuckled and shook his head. "No," he said, "I charmed the quill to write out a bunch of invitations." Harry gestured to the desk on the opposite wall and Draco flushed, noticing now that the sound of writing hadn't stopped and that Harry was sitting here and not there.
Harry chuckled again. "Since you're awake, you can tell me who they need to go to. Just hold on a minute while I get some envelopes and a quill," Harry added, putting aside his book.
Draco sat up and watched as Harry left the bed and fetched a bag with the store logo of Scrivener's, a rather small but very upscale stationery shop; it was where Draco got his supplies from instead of the common store Scribbulus Everchanging Inks. He was surprised Harry knew of it. Draco's eyes widened as the importance of Harry's words finally impacted. "Invitations?"
Harry smiled brightly at Draco's shock and climbed back onto the bed with the bag and once again got comfortable. Pulling various items out of the bag, Harry answered, "Yes, of course. Invitations. They're for your Presentation."
Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. When he had decided upon Harry for his partner, he was certain that he was going to be giving up his Presentation. As it was a wizarding tradition, for those that had been Gifted during transition, and the last one had been nearly ten years ago, Draco had figured that Harry wouldn't know of it. He had felt sad at the sacrifice but knew he wouldn't regret it. There was no doubt that having a partner of his choice outweighed a traditional Presentation. Now, his Presentation was being given back to him.
"I…Thank you, Harry," Draco said softly, not fully able to hide just how much this meant to him.
Harry smiled gently at Draco, glad he could give this to the other boy as it seemed so important to him. "You're welcome," Harry said just as softly.
"Now," Harry said smartly, "time to get down to business. I've already addressed the envelopes to all the upper year students, the professors, your parents, and the other known living Gifted of Europe and their transition guardians. I need you to tell me who else I need to invite. I imagine there are a whole slew of people given your position in society." Harry arranged a stack of envelopes on top of the book he had been reading earlier, grabbed a quill, and looked at Draco expectantly.
Draco stared back at Harry, surprised again at Harry's knowledge of Presentation traditions and his obvious industry during Draco's most recent nap. Draco reached out a hand and ran his fingers over the top envelope. "This is really nice stationery, Harry."
"Yes. I wanted it to be worthy of you. Do you like it?" Harry asked nervously. The stationery was top quality but it wasn't very fancy; it was a simple mottled dark cream color. It was similar to the stationery Draco had used in his letter to Harry.
"Yes," Draco answered, running his fingers again over the smooth surface of the top envelope. "Harry," Draco started tentatively, "I don't mean to be rude or anything…"
"But you're wondering how I can afford this since I don't have access to my estate until next year," Harry interrupted, not offended in the slightest. He knew the image he projected during the school year.
Draco flushed and nodded, keeping his eyes on the envelopes. They were lovely, but they must have cost a galleon a piece. And on top of all the books…
Harry tickled Draco's chin with the feather end of a quill until he looked up into Harry's very amused eyes. "Tell me, Draco," Harry said teasingly, "how much do you think a milliliter of basilisk's venom goes for in Knockturn Alley?"
Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Basilisk venom?"
Harry tapped Draco with the feather a couple times on his nose, delighting in the way it made Draco scrunch up his face. "Why, yes," Harry replied with a mock air of propriety, "basilisk venom."
Draco shook his head wordlessly, bemused at Harry's teasing. "I've no idea, Harry. I imagine quite a bit, though."
Grinning smugly, Harry nodded and informed his companion, "Most definitely. About one hundred galleons per milliliter."
"That is quite a hefty price," Draco agreed, slightly surprised. "This is relevant, how?"
"I," Harry said smugly, tapping the feather now against his own lips, "have access to about four liters of basilisk venom. Give or take."
Draco's eyes widened in shock. "Four liters?" he exclaimed. That was four hundred thousand galleons. Give or take.
"Yes," Harry confirmed. "So rest assured that I can easily afford a few invitations."
"I guess so," Draco muttered, still amazed. Shaking his head, Draco set his mind to the task at hand. "You'll need to add the parents of all my Slytherin year-mates as well as some other parents, the extended Malfoy clan, some ministry officials, some ambassadors, other important people and members of high society. I imagine a couple hundred people in total. Do you have enough envelopes?" Draco asked, looking doubtfully at the stack.
In response, Harry simply reached back into the bag and pulled out seven more sets of envelopes. Draco nodded and started reciting names and addresses.
Four hours, a light lunch, and over two hundred invitations later Draco was ready for another nap.
All envelopes had been addressed and two copies made of the guest list; one for Draco to keep and another to send to the Headmaster to inform him of who would be guesting at the castle come Saturday evening. All the envelopes had then been stuffed with an elegantly penned invitation, and placed in a magical out-box that Harry said was connected to a mail service in Hogsmeade.
Draco had also found out, much to his pleasant surprise, that Harry's penmanship in his Hogwarts schoolwork was now faked. Harry had told him ruefully that that hadn't always been the case. When Salazar had seen Harry's "pathetic attempts at butchering the beautiful alphabet" he had demanded Harry learn to write properly before teaching him anything else. Countless hours of practice drills had ingrained into Harry a beautiful style of handwriting that rivaled Draco's own.
Harry had been surprised at some of the people Draco knew well, or knew well enough, to invite to his Presentation. Harry hadn't made any sarcastic comments, though; he had simply addressed each envelope as directed. He had even penned an additional special invitation for Severus Snape without complaint, although not without a query. Draco had then revealed to Harry the depth of his relationship with his godfather and the simple deception Severus had carried out on Draco's behalf. By the time he had finished his story, Harry had been darkly amused and admiring of the man's cunning.
Draco held his godfather's invitation in his hands, waiting for Harry to finish writing the special private delivery instructions to his mail service. Draco stared a bit sadly at the golden writing proclaiming Severus Shelley Snape, Master of Potions, Master of Magical Defense, Professor, Head of Slytherin House, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Golden writing was for parents and siblings; everyone else's invitations were written in silver ink. He loved his godfather like a true father, oceans beyond what he felt for his sire, and was glad to be sending this invitation; it was a mark of the true bond between them. Still, he was saddened that his own sire didn't care for him beyond being an heir and upholding the family name and also saddened that he couldn't publicly acknowledge Severus as the father of his heart.
Harry tapped Draco's arm, silently holding out his hand for the last remaining invitation. Draco handed it over and watched Harry seal it inside another envelope and then inside a larger red envelope and place it in the charmed out-box. Moments later, the envelope disappeared.
"He'll get the gold one tomorrow night, barring unforeseen circumstances. He'll get the silver one tomorrow morning with everyone else," Harry said, not commenting on Draco's expression. He could guess what it was from and knew there was nothing he could say that would take away the pain.
Draco nodded silently, drained from the activity of the past few hours.
"Let's take a nap," Harry said, pulling an unresisting Draco down to the bed with him.
Draco merely let out a small sound of acquiescence and let Harry snuggle him in. He fell asleep quickly to the feel of Harry's hand stroking his hair.
After their nap and a moderate supper, Harry had plonked a very heavy book in Draco's lap and bid him look at the pretty pictures. Draco had been somewhat offended until Harry had explained that, in his opinion, Draco would have an intuitive grasp of the human body due to his Gift and should start out focusing more on what went where and how it connected rather than on what everything was called. Hence, only looking at the pictures.
Draco had considered the idea, then shrugged and complied. He couldn't think of a very good counter-argument and Harry was there to guide him in the expression of his Gift. Now, an hour later, Draco rather thought that Harry was right. Draco was fascinated with all the different pieces of the body; bones, muscles, tendons, nerves, organs, blood vessels all interconnected in a detail he had never seen in the wizarding texts he had read previously. A tap on his shoulder brought his attention to his smiling companion.
"Hey, there. How's the book?" Harry asked.
"It's absolutely fascinating. I had no idea that the body had so much stuff in it," Draco replied with his own smile.
"Good. I'm glad. Are you up to trying an experiment?" Harry asked.
"Sure. What did you have in mind?" Draco asked curiously.
"Find the page on muscles in the chest," Harry said, lying down next to Draco.
Draco cocked an eyebrow in question but nodded and found the appropriate page. He turned back to Harry with an expectant look.
"I want you to put your hand on my chest and see if you can feel, with your Gift, the different muscles in my chest," Harry said encouragingly. "Use the book as a guide."
Draco raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, thinking, then nodded. That was an interesting idea. His body agreed as another frisson of lust flared through him.
Another hour later, this time spent in becoming acquainted with the magical feel of the muscles and bones in Harry's arms and torso, and Draco was ready to stop for the night. He was tired from the utilization of his new magics as well as still recovering somewhat from the physical exertions of transition.
"Do you mind if I go back to reading, Harry," Draco asked, rubbing lightly between his eyes.
"Of course not," Harry answered. "Do you think you would be all right if I left for a couple hours to pick up something? Or would you rather I stay?"
Draco looked alarmed for a moment and then tried to calm himself. Really, he was going to be reading! What did it matter if Harry was gone for a couple hours?
"Right," Harry said. "I'll stay."
Draco flushed lightly in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
"Don't be," Harry said firmly. "I'm happy to stay here with you. There are lots of other things I can do and I can go tomorrow or the next day with no problem. All right?"
Draco nodded, relieved. "Must be the bond," he thought. "It must still need close proximity." Draco smiled a moment later. Their bond must be quite strong if it was complaining about the mere mention of distance at the end of day four. By this time, Harry should have easily been able to leave for a couple hours.
Draco got comfortable and tried to engross himself once more in Gray's Anatomy as Harry went back to the desk to do who knows what. Unfortunately, Harry's earlier question seemed to have jangled his nerves quite well and he couldn't keep from looking up every couple minutes to reassure himself that Harry was still nearby. Harry's voice caught him off-guard.
"Would you like me to sit next to you? We could talk…," Harry offered. He'd given Draco half an hour to calm down from his momentary panic, which, he could tell from the bond, hadn't happened, before addressing the other boy's agitated state directly.
Draco flushed in embarrassment but nodded anyway. He realized, just as Harry likely had, that the bond wasn't going to settle without extended physical contact. Draco consoled himself with the thought that it was the bond and not himself that was so needy. Really.
Draco watched as Harry put away whatever he had been working on then crawled onto the bed and arranged his customary stack of pillows. Draco didn't bother to hide his relief when Harry got comfortable and scooted his near leg out to lie alongside Draco's. It wasn't skin to skin, Harry being dressed in sleep pants as well as on top of the covers, but it was good enough and he immediately felt his nerves start to calm.
"So, what were you working on?" Draco asked curiously, trying very hard not to let the unmitigated relief show in his voice. "You're practically always at that desk."
"This week's homework. The teachers are going to be mad enough that I missed classes without prior authorization. I thought I'd have a bit of a peace offering when we got back," Harry admitted with a small grimace.
Draco gave a small laugh. "True. If nothing else they'll be shocked you did it at all without Granger to pester you."
Harry grinned.
"What's your favorite subject?" Draco asked, tilting his head to gaze at Harry more easily. "Everyone thinks it's Defense but I'm not so sure. You seem more driven in that class than really interested for its own sake."
Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. Although, honestly, given that Draco had Harry's moods correlated to his morning condiments he probably shouldn't be so shocked that Draco had figured out this little tidbit. "Arithmancy," he answered with a small smile. "Followed closely by Rituals. Yours?"
"Rituals? Really? That's…that's…" Draco said in shock.
"Not taught here. Yes, I know. Yours?" Harry asked again with an impish grin.
Draco snorted. "Prat. I was going to say something more like fascinating or perhaps advanced. And my favorite subject is, well, uh, Healing, actually." Draco smirked at Harry's chuckle.
"Also not taught here," Harry interjected dryly.
"Well, yes," Draco agreed with amusement. Giving Harry a sly look, he added, "Continuing with the theme of favorite subjects we're not learning from Hogwarts' faculty, I also really like being an animagus."
"What!" Harry sat up straight in shock and started at Draco in open-mouthed amazement.
Smirking smugly, Draco stated proudly, "Finished the training this past summer."
Harry blinked and snapped his mouth shut, then grinned. "Wow. That's amazing! Congratulations! What's your form?"
"What's yours?" Draco countered, not quite ready to give up that secret without something in return.
Harry's lips twitched. To Draco's astonishment Harry started to laugh. Loudly.
"What?" Draco demanded peevishly. Becoming an animagus was a great accomplishment! It should not be laughed at! He couldn't believe he'd just shared one of his greatest achievements with Harry and Harry was laughing at him!
Under Draco's glare, Harry's laughter died down and in between several uncontrolled snickers he managed to get out, "I'm sorry. It's just…just…you win!" Harry laughed again, though it was a slight bit more subdued.
"What do you mean I win? I win what?" Draco asked, annoyed and hurt.
Harry quieted and shook his head with a smile on his face. "I don't have a form. Or, I guess I should say, I've not trained to attain my form. I'm not an animagus."
"You're not!" Draco asked, forgetting his anger and hurt, truly stunned that Harry wasn't an animagus. "But…your father…your godfather…"
"I thought that was a secret?" Harry asked wryly.
Looking abashed at his slip, Draco said, "Severus told me. You're really not an animagus? I would have thought…"
"Nope."
Draco slowly started to smile then started laughing himself. "I win!"
"Yeah," Harry agreed, smiling back. "One hundred fifty points to Slytherin." Giving Draco time to bask in his glory, Harry asked again, "So what is your form? Will you tell me?"
Still snickering, Draco answered proudly, "A cat. A Siamese, to be exact."
"Ah. How appropriate. Finicky…," Harry nodded with an air of authority.
"Discriminating…," Draco countered.
"Nosy…," Harry added with a tut-tut.
"Curious…," Draco alleged.
"Snobbish…," Harry shook his head sadly.
"Regal…," Draco countered with a sniff and his nose in the air.
"Demanding attention all the time," Harry said insistently.
Draco was quiet a moment. "Well, yes. But, really, there's nothing wrong with that."
Harry laughed again and then leaned in towards Draco, their faces only inches apart as he breathed, "No, I suppose not."
Draco swallowed down the spike of lust from Harry's nearness and asked stutteringly, "So, you said you'd tell me about those Dementors."
Harry jerked back sharply. "Well, that was an effective mood killer," he said crossly.
Draco cleared his throat nervously, "Yes, well."
Glaring at his bed companion, Harry huffed back against his pile of pillows. Annoyed, he sighed and said, "Fine. What did you want to know?"
"I don't know," Draco said softly, upset at having angered Harry. He could feel the aggravation across the bond to his guardian. "How come they were outside your house for two hours? Why didn't they come in? There aren't any wards against Dementors that I know. Didn't you notice them? Didn't your relatives?"
Glancing at Draco, feeling his distress, Harry took the other boy's hand and started idly tracing the back of the long slender pale fingers, trying to calm and reassure. "They were outside for two hours because the idiot supposedly guarding me had fallen into a drunken stupor and their presence wasn't reported until the next guard arrived. Dumbledore claims they didn't get in because of the blood wards on the property. He's lying through his teeth, though. There is a ward against Dementors and I know it's on that house because I've seen the runes; my guess is that it's probably illegal, so he falls back on the blood ward explanation. I didn't notice them because I was, officially, asleep. And, yes," Harry finished with an evil smirk, "my relatives did notice them. They were cowering in the living room the whole time, afraid to go outside to the car and leave in case they were attacked. Too bad, really."
Draco looked over, shocked. "They could have been kissed!"
Harry shrugged. "It wouldn't have been any skin off my nose, I assure you."
"Wow. There really is no love lost between you, is there?" Draco asked, stunned.
"Not any at all," Harry affirmed.
"Then why do you stay with them?" Draco asked in confusion. "If they're that bad any blood wards would only be passably effective at best."
Harry nodded and moved his idle tracings to the back of Draco's hand, pleased with the shiver his attentions caused. "True. From what I've been able to determine from my study of the wards at that house, the blood wards never really set. They were placed. They were activated. But, as far as I can tell, they never anchored. It's quite conclusive proof that at least Petunia never ever once cared for me at all and most likely hated me on sight, which is what she's always claimed. I stay there because, despite my pleas and protests, Dumbledore continues to believe that I'm safest there and that my relatives really do love me." Harry snorted in disgust, then again in amusement when Draco also snorted in disgust.
"I've not been able to completely determine if he really believes that or if he's just lazy and doesn't want to so thoroughly ward another place for me to stay." Harry sighed and added, "Most of the time I truly believe it's the former, even if it means that he's a daft idiot for dismissing my claims of a rotten home life and for never checking the state of his wards, presuming he was the one who set them, which, he may not be, I grant."
"Hmmm," Draco replied, keeping his negative thoughts about the headmaster's sanity to himself. Staring at the fingers that had progressed to caressing his forearm, Draco asked suddenly, "Will you show me that Dementor ward? Severus has trained me in entrance wards; I'd like to learn how to cast it."
Harry shrugged. "Sure. Better check first to see if it's legal, though."
"All right," Draco agreed, suppressing a shiver from the caresses. A minute later he asked abruptly, "What happened to that woman? And what do you mean officially asleep?" Turning to look at Harry, perplexed. "Weren't you? And even if you were, what does that matter?"
It was Harry's turn to look slightly abashed. "I've got a compartment trunk. I was actually inside it when the Dementors were there; their effects can't pass through wizard-spaced objects. I wasn't about to inform anyone of that, though, so I said I was asleep. The only effect a Dementor has on someone unconscious is the chill from the air. Why else do you think it takes years for prisoners to go insane instead of days or weeks?"
Draco looked flummoxed. "Oh. I didn't know that."
Harry shrugged and continued to caress the pale arm in his hold. "Not many do. Nobody suspected anything; they probably figured I didn't know enough about Dementors to lie effectively."
"And the woman?" Draco pressed.
"Umbridge?" Harry asked distractedly, examining the feeling of the fine hairs on Draco's forearm.
"Yes, her," Draco replied, using every ounce of self-control to swallow his lust and remain still. "I remember The Prophet was slandering you until they found out about her, but they never printed what happened to her. Do you know?"
Harry snorted in disgust and said, "She's in Azkaban right now. For treason. It's ironic since that is what she claimed as to why she sent those things after me in the first place. "Spreading lies to incite the public against the ministry" blah blah blah. Too bad under veritaserum she admitted it was because Fudge had been complaining that if Voldemort was back it would ruin his image and wouldn't it be for the best if I retracted my statement and kept my mouth shut?"
"Good, she deserves it," Draco stated then added thoughtfully, "It was probably a good thing she did that."
Harry stopped his idle movements along Draco's arm and stared in disbelief. "What? Why would you say that?"
Cocking his head and looking steadily at Harry, Draco answered, "The Prophet had been printing stories about you being crazy and saying your claims about the Dark Lord's return were just the rantings of a spoiled kid trying to get attention. And of course, everyone ate that right up. I don't doubt that fifth year would have been a lot more miserable for you if that nonsense had continued. But when the story hit about the Dementors people did an abrupt about-face and you were once again the intrepid hero in the face of insurmountable obstacles.
"Morons," Harry stated with a grimace. Merlin, he hated that newspaper.
Draco gave a short laugh. "Yes. Too bad, though, that Fudge didn't follow their lead until after that attack at the Ministry."
Harry shrugged again and resumed his exploration of Draco's arm hairs. He was not concerned about the Minister's competence. And that attack had been a good thing for Harry. Voldemort had successfully retrieved the prophecy orb that concerned the two of them and Dumbledore had decided, finally, to share the prophecy with Harry. The old man had told Harry that if Voldemort knew it then Harry deserved to know it. In Harry's opinion, it had been at least four years late, but at least he knew it now.
"And it got you away from those muggles, I bet. That could only have been a good thing," Draco said. He was surprised when Harry laughed bitterly.
"Sure it did. Four days later. I would have preferred they left me there. I had my trunk. I had a time turner. I was perfectly happy to stay away from all the annoyances of my life," Harry said disdainfully.
Draco looked at Harry in alarm. "I stepped on another nerve, didn't I?" he asked softly.
Harry glanced at the boy looking at him in wide-eyed nervousness and nodded. "You're pretty good at that."
Draco winced. "Sorry."
"That's all right," Harry said. "I've got a lot of nerves," he added ruefully.
Draco snorted a surprised laugh and smiled, recognizing that Harry wasn't angry about Draco's inquisitiveness, just about the situation his question had brought to the forefront of Harry's memory. Draco snuggled back into his pillows and boldly reversed their hand positions, taking Harry's hand and starting his own explorations.
Bemused at Draco's sudden daring, Harry asked, "Would you like to know about my summers?"
Draco nodded. "Yes. Tell me about the time-turner?" he asked curiously, "Is that how you study with Salazar without anyone noticing? How much time have you turned?"
Harry laughed and snuggled into his own pillows. "I shouldn't have mentioned the time-turner. Salazar will surely scold me for letting that slip. Ah, well. Salazar lets me use his time-turners as long as I'm responsible. For lessons, it's the hourly one, for the weekends it's the daily one, and for the summers it's the weekly one."
Draco looked up in astonishment. "He has three. Wow," he added weakly.
Harry snickered and flipped the blanket over himself. "Yes. For the last three summers I've taken the weekly time-turner with me for the holidays. I live a week at the Dursley's, usually studying and practicing whatever it is that Salazar has assigned me, then time-turn back a week and go somewhere else. Repeat. Repeat. The fiasco with the Dementors lost me two normal weeks of uninterrupted study and practice time and nearly cost me two time-turned weeks of my real holidays because I was no longer alone. I still got my time-turned weeks but it was a major hassle because of having to avoid everyone and find an isolated spot where I could activate the time-turner safely."
"Annoying," Draco said sympathetically, continuing his stroking of Harry's hand. Hopefully this would encourage Harry to continue talking.
"Yes," Harry replied. He did his best to hide his smirk. He knew what Draco was trying to do. He would never have guessed that Draco liked listening to stories.
"The first regular week of my summers I spend doing my shoddy homework for school and convincing the Dursley's that letting me out of my room would be hazardous to their normal life," Harry started to explain. "Although," he added thoughtfully, "I didn't have to do that this last summer. It was probably because they remembered about the Dementors from the summer before. Another positive benefit, I suppose."
"Wait. What do you mean? They keep you in your room?" Draco asked in incredulity.
"Yes. Don't worry," he added, seeing Draco's concern, "It's easier for me that way and I can get out whenever I want without them realizing."
Draco nodded doubtfully but resumed his attentions to Harry's hand. "How do you convince them?" he asked encouragingly.
Harry grinned and said matter-of-factly and with a great deal of amusement, "I terrorize them."
"What?" Draco laughed.
"Well, for the summer between third and fourth years, I told them that Sirius Black was my godfather and that he was looking for me so I had to stay inside and stay hidden. If he saw me, either outside or through the windows, he would probably attack. And, heaven knows, having escaped prison a year ago he probably had gathered a bunch of wizard thugs to help him," Harry said sincerely, keeping his laughter in check. Draco wasn't so reserved as he started chuckling.
"The next summer I told them that Voldemort…sorry…was back and had already gathered back his group of big bad wizards and they were already looking for me and my family." Harry smiled as Draco's chuckles grew louder. "Last summer I would have used the attack at the Ministry except that I didn't even need to say anything before they banished me to my room. Not that I'm complaining."
"That's awful," Draco said, laughing.
Harry laughed back. "It was Salazar's suggestion," he said.
"It's perfect," Draco said. "Perfect. Might as well use their fears against them."
"I agree," Harry said with satisfaction. "Especially since they've never treated me decently. They barely give me any food over the summer, not that they did before and not that I would eat it now I've got options, and constantly hurl abuse through the bedroom door."
"What?" Draco said in not-quite-disbelief. "They're too cowardly to say anything to your face?"
"Well, I have to be reminded about my general uselessness and my ungratefulness for their ever so much excessive generosity, don't I? But they can't risk me getting out and actually endangering their normal respectable family, now can they?" Harry replied with derision.
Draco snorted. "No, I suppose not."
"Anyway," Harry continued, "I don't hear them all that often since I'm usually in my trunk. The only time I'm in the room is when it's Moody's turn to guard because he can see through walls with that eye of his. Not that it matters. I've got all those speeches memorized. The Dursley's are bloody unimaginative, they are." This last was said with an amused contempt.
Draco shook his head. He couldn't believe the things he was learning about Harry's muggle home life. "What do you do with your time-turned weeks? Where do you go?" Hopefully his questions would have a more pleasant answer. He liked his stories to be a bit more upbeat than neglectful relatives.
"Different places," Harry said waving his right hand about. "My first summer I spent almost exclusively in France. The next summer I spent with a wizard that I had been introduced to the previous summer exploring Europe and the Mediterranean." Harry looked sidelong at Draco and added, "He's a historian and showed me around all the magical sites. He taught me more about history in two months than is ever taught here in all seven years. He was also my teacher for other things."
Draco started at that statement and blushed lightly. He said nothing and instead kept his hand from trembling as it stroked patterns on Harry's skin.
"Last summer I spent with a wizarding youth group from France on a world tour. We spent a week or two on each non-European continent visiting magical sites. We had a great time and learned a lot," Harry said, remembering.
"And were they equally…accommodating?" Draco asked, unsure if he should feel annoyed or grateful at Harry's experience.
Harry darted a look at Draco, unable to determine if the other boy was feeling jealous or just unsettled, and answered truthfully, "Some of them were, yes. We all knew it was just a summer fling, though. Noone expected more than that and we all parted amicably. I write to a couple of them, sometimes, but there's only friendship there, nothing more."
Draco nodded silently.
"None of them are a threat to you," Harry offered quietly.
"I didn't…" Draco started indignantly only to be interrupted.
"None of them are a threat to you," Harry stated more firmly. He turned to Draco and cupped his face with his unoccupied right hand and stared into his eyes, willing Draco to believe him.
"I wasn't jealous," Draco said petulantly.
Harry smiled and said, "Of course not. But just so you know."
Draco grumbled and looked away, slightly embarrassed to be caught out. He returned his focus to Harry's hand and ignored Harry's knowing look.
Harry simply kept quiet and focused on sending reassurance and commitment through the bond to Draco. Maybe if they were quiet a while Draco would fall asleep; it was nearing nine o'clock, the latest Draco had managed to stay awake since his transition.
Several minutes passed quietly as Draco continued his explorations. Harry could feel the other boy's curiosity rise and patiently waited for the moment when Draco could no longer hold back his questions. He was making bets with himself that Draco wouldn't make ten minutes. He amusedly resigned himself to a lifetime of attempting to satisfy and/or curb and/or focus the curiosity of Siamese cat when he won his bet at six minutes.
"How much time have you turned? How old are you physically?" Draco asked quietly. He'd been itching to ask that question ever since he'd heard of the time turners.
"A lot," Harry said, wondering what Draco would make of his answer. "There are my lessons with Salazar when I'm here at Hogwarts at four hours three times a week plus all weekend every weekend. Plus two summers doubled and one summer tripled. I'm about seventeen and a half physically."
Draco looked at Harry consideringly, "You're wearing a glamour to hide the aging, aren't you? I mean, you don't look any different than I would expect for being seventeen instead of sixteen."
Harry's nodded, "Yes. I've no interest in curtailing my activities so there's no sense in advertising that something is up by looking older than I should."
"Will you drop it?" Draco asked abruptly.
"The glamour?" Harry asked. When Draco nodded, Harry asked, "For you or for everyone?"
Draco blinked. "Well, both, I suppose. Though, I meant just for me," he said, once again turning his attention to Harry's hand. Now, though, he took his pleasure in simply holding it.
Harry regarded Draco solemnly for several moments, eventually catching Draco's now concerned attention.
"I didn't mean anything by it," Draco said softly. "I was just curious. You don't have to."
"Maybe I'll drop it for you sometime," Harry said slowly in reply, reluctance swimming in his voice. "Completely. Maybe not. I have…layers…to my glamour." Continuing more briskly, Harry added, "At any rate, Saturday, before the Presentation, I'll drop the parts that hide my age and body development. I'll need to present a strong front to all the predators."
Draco chuckled. "True. Though," he added a bit resentfully, "you'll probably scare half of them simply by being there Presenting a Death Eater's child."
Harry turned his face to Draco and raised an eyebrow.
A white eyebrow was raised in response.
"Boo!" Harry exclaimed, startling Draco and making him jump.
Both of them laughed, imaging the reaction of the audience should Harry do the same thing at the Presentation.
Their laughter became chuckles and then a companionable silence. They sat peacefully in their own musings, comfortable in each other's presence, not needing conversation to fill the quiet. As Harry had anticipated, Draco soon fell asleep. An hour later, Harry joined him.
