No use in trying to sleep after that. Harry spends most of the night listening to Draco, who, it turns out, knows far more Latin than he'd thought.
"A conversation is two friends with one thing to say. One-on-one," Draco says to him in the tone of voice he's so fond of.
Harry stares at him, hands clenched tight in his lap. It's two AM, but he's not sleepy.
"A conversation is two friends with one thing to say," Draco repeats, just as slowly. "Two friends are better than one."
Harry narrows his eyes at him, and Draco laughs. "Oh, and probably should be a pub," he points out.
"You could just drop that one, you know," Harry says, and then winces as he realizes how petulant it sounds. He's a seventeen-year-old boy who's having his first proper conversation with a twenty-five-year-old wizard. It's a little early to be acting like a twelve-year-old.
Draco frowns. "I didn't. I'm saying I believe in balance."
Harry nods. "OK," he says. "Balance."
"Good," says Draco, then he starts to sing. "BANQUET ON THE SEA. BURNT TO DEATH IN BANQUET. BURNT TO DEATH IN BANQUET," he sings. He holds the mirror in front of his mouth and does the best imitation of a nautically-themed murder ballad that Harry has ever heard. The room is silent except for his singing. When he's finished, he carefully sets the mirror aside and goes back to bed.
Harry thinks it's strange that he's never even heard that song before, let alone by Draco. He reaches up and picks up the heart that had been safely hidden in his shirt collar when he was four, and slides it around his neck.
It's a good one. Something he hopes he'll keep.
Draco has invited him to a feast that Saturday night. It's a fancy kind of feast. More like a banquet, but with no meat and a complicated wine pairing. As they're on the way there, they pass the fairgrounds and the coronation hall.
"Are you going to the coronation?" Harry asks, leaning in towards Draco.
Draco's expression is stony. "I don't see why not. If you're not going, I won't let you back in."
"I am going," Harry says, without ever losing the nervous little quiver that's settled in his stomach. He's so curious to see the coronation. He's never had the opportunity to see someone take on a magical mantle like this before.
"No." Draco's voice is cold and flat. "I will not let you in."
Harry stares at him in wonder. Draco turns his head to look at him, but doesn't say a word.
