The rest of the week at the Weasley's was spent as any in the past had been. Casual days outside, flying and playing Quidditch in the yard, and great family dinners had been among the highlights of the remainder of the visit. Harry had to spend a few days opening and organizing all the gifts he had received. He had mostly been gifted things people had assumed would be useful to him in the future: Small amounts of money, which Harry felt guilty about, quills, ink, parchment, and enough books to make Hermione jealous. Things like sneakoscopes, empty vials, remembralls, and other trinkets were given to him by people who knew (or, easily assumed) his career plans. Of course, pounds of candies and piles of items from George's shop were also stacked up in Ron and Harry's room.

Hermione had given Harry a few tiny bags and pouches that she had enchanted with the same bottomless charm she had used on her purse back when they were on the run. These immediately came in handy, as Harry had hundreds of birthday gifts and letters to sort through. At Hermione's suggestion, he had used one pouch for candies and trick toys, one for useful and protective items, a large bag for books, another large bag for stationary, and two bags for letters. One of the bags of letters would be for storing what he had already opened and read, while the other would be for ones he had not yet gotten to.

A week later, as Harry lay in his bed back at Gryffindor Tower, the latter still was not empty. Even after taking some time every night at the Weasley's to read through the letters, there were still twenty or so left. Sighing, he sat up and grabbed the pouch of unread letters from his bedside table. The first few were much like the rest; birthday wishes and small stories about loved ones that had been saved by 'his victory' over the Dark Lord. Of course, it wasn't that Harry didn't like hearing it. In fact, he was really touched by the fact that so many people had wanted to send their thanks and show appreciation for him. It was just a lot to sit through at once.

Four or five letters later, Harry picked up one that looked like a scrap of parchment that had been folded in half. There wasn't an envelope or a seal anywhere to be found. Curiously, he unfolded the paper to read the note. The message was written in rigid, upright lettering.

Potter,

Glad we're both alive. I owe you one.
Not that I'll ever admit it again.

Harry scrunched up his face in confusion, as he noticed there wasn't even a signature. Honestly, he felt he would never know who wrote it; it wasn't hard to imagine there were quite a few people who thought they were in Harry's debt for one reason or another. Still, his curiosity lead him to tuck the note in between the back of his nightstand and the wall in case he ever wanted to look at it again. He did love a good mystery.

x

The following days passed in even more peaceful quiet. Harry had stopped by to see both McGonagall and Hagrid a couple of times. They were both very pleasant company, save for the fact that Hagrid had tried to get Harry to accompany him on a weeklong trip to the nearby mountains with Grawp. The boy had floundered for a polite way to flatly refuse, particularly when Hagrid had proudly informed him that they would be 'experiencing real giant culture' and sleeping in a cave. In the end, he had remembered that Hermione and Ron would be expecting to meet him at Hogsmeade as soon as they got back from Australia in a few days time.

By the time his friends were back, and Harry had set off on the path to Hogsmeade through a secret tunnel just for fun, something felt wrong to him. His life no longer in constant danger, Harry knew he had gotten what he always wanted. Granted, nightmares continued to be an issue, but they were nothing compared to the past and he quickly recovered from each one. Yet, somehow, an ominous feeling stirred deep in his stomach almost constantly, like a storm cloud looming overhead on an otherwise sunny day. Objectively, nothing was wrong; everyone was safe, and Harry could enjoy school and his friends in peace. Still, though, the hero was as tense as he ever was back when he was constantly having to fight for his life.

He hated it.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he arrived at the end of the tunnel and pushed his way out into the cellar of Honeydukes. He put on his invisibility cloak so as not to bring attention to himself and scare the owner by suddenly appearing where he shouldn't have. It was Harry's habit to carry the cloak everywhere he went, even if on a summer day like today that meant having to carry a satchel with him. The previous year, Hermione had demonstrated just how beneficial it could be to have things that may make life easier readily on hand, and Harry had tried to be good about it since.

When he had gotten out of Honeydukes, he headed over to The Three Broomsticks to meet Ron and Hermione. They were there waiting for him, a bit earlier than planned; he was certain Hermione was responsible for their timely presence. When he sat down across the table from the couple, he was handed a butterbeer they had ordered him in advance.

"Hi Harry," Hermione greeted him happily.

"Hey guys," Harry responded similarly. "How was your trip?"

Really, he hadn't needed to ask to know it must have been fantastic. Ron had been grinning cheek-to-cheek from the moment he saw Harry walk through the door, clearly bursting to share how incredible his week had been. Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but her boyfriend cut her off as Harry suspected he might.

"Bloody brilliant," Ron exclaimed, barely able to keep himself from shouting. "Harry, I'm so glad you convinced my mum to take that money. Thanks, mate."

Harry smiled softly, glad to have made his friends happy. He knew they would have let him come along, but in many ways he was glad he hadn't been there to be a third-wheel for all the couple-y activities he was sure had went on. Not to mention that he wouldn't have wanted Ginny to have to pay him any mind while on a family vacation.

"My parents loved Ron," Hermione said happily, turning to look at him and squeeze his hand as she spoke. "Well, they loved the whole family, really. I'm so glad everything went well."

Hermione really did sound relieved, and Harry could imagine the girl having stressed over the logistical issues that unfriendly families would cause in their relationship. He almost felt like laughing as he imagined how much she must have torn herself up with the worry of such a thing.

"Yeah, and my family loved hers!" Ron agreed.

Ron spoke animatedly about the beach in Broome, the lively downtown area, and all the funny Muggle tourists and strange non-magical animals. Hermione's parents owned a boat, but it wasn't big enough to hold the entire group of ten at once so they often split into halves and took turns going out into the ocean and sitting on the beach.

"And Harry, the water is warm there!" Ron informed him enthusiastically, as though it were a crucial piece of information.

After a rather lively conversation, the trio decided to spend the rest of the day at Hogwarts before Hermione and Ron returned to the Burrow. Once they were back in the castle, the boys had decided they were rather hungry, and they headed to the Great Hall for a late lunch.

It was odd eating in such a large room when really only fifty or so people wanted meals, as opposed to the many hundreds during the school year. Habitually, they gravitated to their usual seats at what was normally dubbed the Gryffindor table. The selection of food was much more limited than they were used to, but there was plenty to go around and it still tasted amazing. The house-elves were no less talented during the summer, it seemed.

Harry straightened up in his seat as that thought crossed his mind.

"Hermione," he began. "We should go to the kitchens when we're done. We need to know how many elves want money and clothes."

Hermione almost dropped the piece of bread on its way to her mouth and she gasped.

"You're right, Harry!" she exclaimed, suddenly remembering their promise before Harry's birthday party. "Then we can find out how much money we should get out of Gringotts and how much yarn to buy."

Ron didn't offer to add anything to the exchange, but he was fairly in support of their efforts and agreed to accompany them. They quickly finished eating and set off down through the castle to the painting that hid the door to the kitchen. They had just gotten to the basement and turned around a corner, laughing loudly at a story Ron was telling about his father investigating a whole host of Muggle items on their vacation, when they saw a tall, blond haired boy climbing out of the door to the Slytherin common rooms.

"Malfoy," Harry heard Ron grumble under his breath.

Draco looked as if he wanted to turn around and abandon whatever trip he had been intending to make for the time being, but thought better of it and walked towards them with a casual stride. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed suit and continued on their path as well. When they got close to each other, they all stopped, uncertain what to do. Draco spoke first.

"Potter," he said, monotone, looking his old rival up and down with an empty expression. He then glanced over to Hermione.

"Granger," he nodded at her, but could barely meet her eyes. Harry could feel the girl struggling to find a response she felt was appropriate.

Draco then turned to Ron, and looked slightly amused.

"Weasley," he almost laughed. "Been working the fields for some spare change? Your face is almost as red as your hair."

Ron had, in fact, gotten incredibly burned during his time on the beach. His fair skin was simply no match for Australia's sun, even if it was wintertime there at the moment. Still, Ron lifted his chin up and looked pleased with himself.

"I'll have you know," he retorted smugly, "I was in Australia all week. My family met Hermione's."

The blond boy's face scrunched up at the news.

"Granger's family got enough Muggle money for it, or something?"

"Not entirely," Hermione replied airily, as though brushing the insult off herself satisfied her. "Harry paid for it."

"Yeah," Ron quickly jumped back into the mix. "Harry's got fans throwing bags of money at him. Right, Harry?"

Draco's grey eyes snapped quickly back over to Harry, and the dark-haired boy quickly looked away as he saw the suspicion in them.

"Er-," Harry blushed more deeply than he would have liked. "Well, I wouldn't say fans…"

He could feel Draco's eyes still bearing down on him, and blushed harder still. Before he could figure out the best way to proceed, he heard Malfoy scoff.

"Typical."

With that, the Slytherin stepped around them and continued off down the hall and up the stairs.

"Pleasant as ever, isn't he?" Ron asked sarcastically.

Harry didn't reply.

AN: As promised, the scene has been more or less set in the first three chapters, so this one and on should have the Harry-Draco interaction you are all here for!

Hope you're enjoying it so far.

xoxo,

Ariah