Chapter 5

It was strange to have summer and to know you weren't going to return to school. Draco didn't lament it, as such, but it felt as if he had been chucked out into the adult world without much of a clue about what to do next. It seemed that Harry felt the same way, and, bit by bit, he slowly moved himself into Grimmauld Place.

Draco was aware that Molly had wanted Harry to live at The Burrow, and, as much as the idea may have appealed to Harry, Draco knew that the boy needed space. He needed time to figure out who he was outside of Hogwarts, and, while he needed the sense of family the Weasleys could offer, he was also used to fending for himself.

Nothing had been said about Draco leaving Grimmauld and he wasn't keen to bring it up. He had nowhere else to go, after all, and, as gloomy as the house was, Draco was strangely starting to think of it as home. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that Bill was living there too.

He was doing some very in-depth research for the curse he was working on and had chosen to do so from Grimmauld. It made sense; Draco had never seen such an extensive Dark Arts collection, even in his own father's library. If Bill wanted answers then the Grimmauld library was a good place to start.

The three of them fell into a familiar sort of rhythm. They all got along well, although Harry was often gone for long periods at a time. He was continuing with his training, and the sessions were held at Hogwarts under Snape's brutal tutelage. Harry was shattered, Draco could see that, but he went back day after day, night after night. If the end goal was to turn Harry into a mindless weapon, Draco thought they were succeeding.

With nothing of his own to do, Draco took to assisting Bill with his research while also attending to his own studies. He had managed to find a couple of second-hand books that the training programme for St Mungo's required, and he was making his way through them. He had also undertaken to learn how to cook; nothing particularly fancy, he just couldn't stand living off takeaways any longer.

He had had several mishaps in the kitchen, including a small fire that Bill had been quick to bring under control. A couple of days later, Bill presented him with a bundle of hand-written recipes from his mother with the promise that she could come over and help him if he needed it. They were all recipes for hearty, home-cooking, meals that Draco would have never eaten in the past, but that now he found a measure of comfort from.

He found Molly's generosity rather humbling. They were only recipes, but she didn't have to give them to him, and yet she had chosen to. It was a small thing, but he couldn't imagine his own mother making such a gesture, and for some reason that thought saddened him.

He was looking through the sheaf of parchment Molly had sent him, trying to decide what to make that evening when he heard the front door slam. Moments later, footsteps thundered up the stairs and somewhere another door slammed shut. Bill wasn't due home for at least another hour and wasn't particularly prone to door-slamming anyway. It had to be Harry.

He chucked the recipes down onto the table with a heavy sigh and glanced upwards. Leaving Harry alone when he was in a mood like that was never a good idea. His temper could work itself up into a frenzy if left unchecked, and, with his huge store of power, that could make for a dangerous situation.

He took a deep breath and braced himself, then made his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. As he neared the landing, he heard loud noises coming from the small study to the back of the house. It was one of the rooms they rarely ventured in as it was still full of unknown nasties and could often be volatile and aggressive.

He inched closer to the room and knocked tentatively. He got no answer so he carefully and slowly pushed the door open and poked his head through. Harry was standing in the middle of the room, his wand drawn, flinging hex after hex at pieces of furniture.

"Harry," Draco ventured, but it fell on deaf ears. The boy continued to cast hexes, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white around his wand.

"Harry!" Draco tried again, louder this time. There was still no flicker of acknowledgement, and Draco thought it likely that there wouldn't be unless he intervened.

He drew his own wand and waited for the right moment, then disarmed Harry with a well-timed Expelliarmus. Harry whirled around, eyes blazing, his robes billowing in a way that would have made Snape proud.

"Give that back," Harry demanded.

"Not until you calm down," Draco said, pocketing the wand and hoping that Harry wasn't in the mood for a spot of wandless magic.

"I'm perfectly calm!"

"Oh yes, it looks like it," Draco scoffed. "I don't know what that table ever did to you," he said, gesturing to the small side table that was now nothing but splinters.

"It got in my way," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Hence why I'll be keeping your wand for the time being."

"I don't – "

"Come on, get out of there before something starts fighting back."

Harry looked as though he was going to continue to argue, and Draco prepared himself for it. A moment later though the boy's shoulders slumped and he trudged out of the room like a chastised child. Draco closed the door behind him and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, guiding him back through the corridor and down the stairs.

"Take a seat," Draco said when they were back in the kitchen.

"I don't want to," Harry said petulantly.

"Fine, stand," Draco said with a sigh. "Now, what's the matter?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said, folding his arms.

"I'm not giving you a choice."

"You think you can just bully me into talking to you?"

"I think I'm more stubborn than you'll ever be and that you'll give in long before I will. Now, you can save us both some time and a lot of effort and just tell me what's wrong."

Harry stood in silence for a moment, his lips pursed. He was still a rather interesting shade of red and his hair was plastered in sweaty clumps to his forehead. Draco crossed his arms and wondered how long he was going to have to wait for Harry to give in. He had little experience in dealing with Harry's moods, and he wasn't entirely sure how best to proceed.

"It's Snape," Harry said eventually, spitting the name out.

"Snape," Draco repeated with a slow nod. "Something happened in your training session?" he ventured carefully.

"The same thing that always happens!" Harry said, giving the nearest cupboard a good kick.

Draco thought that the boy should be more careful, given the fact that many things in Grimmauld liked to kick back. Deciding that questioning Harry wasn't a good route to take, he simply waited.

"He hates me," Harry said moodily, "and he doesn't hide the fact." He took a shuddering breath and continued, "Everything I do is wrong, nothing is good enough. He makes me…he makes me feel so pathetic, so worthless. And I'm trying…I'm really trying."

"I know you are," Draco said gently.

"Well he doesn't! He thinks I'm an idiot, a child who isn't worth his time."

"Has he said as much?"

"He doesn't have to! It's written in every line of his face, it's obvious in everything he says to me. I just…I just don't know how much more of this I can take."

In all honesty, Draco was surprised Harry hadn't reached this point sooner. He'd been pushing himself so hard, as had everyone around him, and he was such a fragile soul to begin with. Draco couldn't understand why no one else seemed to be able to see that.

They all saw Harry as such a straightforward person, the boy who always had a sarcastic comment to hand and who bounced back from every knock with charming forbearance. Draco saw him differently. Even when he had so disliked the boy, Draco had been able to see past the mask that Harry so often presented to the world. He had been able to see the hurt, the exhaustion, the fact that Harry was sometimes only carrying on through sheer bloody-mindedness. He saw all those things now.

"You need to get drunk," Draco said decisively.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry asked with a frown.

Clearly he had been expecting a fight, or perhaps a rousing speech about how he had to buck up and put on a brave face. Draco wasn't prepared to offer him either of those things.

"You need to let loose and get good and pissed. I'm fairly certain Moody stashed a bottle of something the last time he was here. Accio alcohol," he intoned, and a few moments later a bottle came clanging its way into the kitchen.

It slapped into his hand and he looked at it. The label wasn't English and the liquid inside was a dark brown. "Beggars can't be choosers, I guess," he said with a shrug.

"Moody will kill us."

"I'll replace it. Come on, let's go and kill some brain cells."

They retreated to the sitting room, and slowly Draco convinced Harry that this was the only sensible course of action. The alcohol, whatever it was, was foul. It burnt their mouths and left a foul taste, but it was incredibly efficient at making reality melt away.

They sat on the floor, their backs against the sofa, legs splayed out in front of them. Harry raged about Snape, although the raging became less coherent as the bottle became emptier. Draco let him rant; he needed it after all, and the evil-smelling alcohol was helping to take the edge off. He could understand the boy's feelings; he knew what a hard taskmaster Snape was, and he seemed to take great delight in tormenting Harry.

Of course, Draco was also aware that Harry's feelings towards Snape were ever so slightly conflicted. Harry, in his usual oblivious state, was either unaware of that or was in denial. Either was entirely possible.

"He just…expects me to know things! He never tells me…he just…just…"

"I know," Draco said, nodding, "you've told me."

"No but you don't understand," Harry insisted, his speech slurred. "It's like he thinks I'm tele…telepathetic."

Draco snorted and Harry glared. "No…no. Telepathetic, right. He's a prick, what can I say?"

"Nah," Harry said, his eyes narrowing. "Nah…he's…a good guy really."

"Just because he's on our side doesn't mean he isn't a complete arsehole."

"He's not…he's…there's more to him than that," Harry said, his frown deepening.

Draco sighed and took a big glug from the bottle, which he regretted almost instantly. "Harry," he began, then took a second to compose himself as his vision swam. "Harry," he tried again, "don't you think it's about time you put this thing to bed?"

"I'm not putting anything to bed," Harry said fervently.

Draco grinned at him and said, "And there's the rub!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry asked, his eyes crossing a little.

"You and Snape, that's what a lot of this boils down to. All those…feelings get in the way."

"What feelings?"

"Oh Harry," Draco groaned. "I actually can't tell if you're doing this on purpose. You have feelings for him, why can't you just admit it?"

"I…I don't…I…" Harry sputtered, his cheeks flushing.

"Harry, please. It's so obvious!"

"But I…I haven't – "

"Haven't what?"

Harry paused, then took a deep breath before saying, "I haven't even figured out if I'm…that way inclined yet."

"Oh," Draco said softly with a gentle smile. "Well," he said, stretching out and raising his arms above his head, "my offer still stands."

"What offer?"

Draco wiggled his eyebrows, which would have been a lot more successful a move without the copious amounts of drain cleaner he had consumed.

"Oh! Oh…that offer," Harry said, suddenly flustered.

"No strings attached," Draco said, giving Harry's leg a nudge with his foot. "Unless…you don't find me attractive," he added with a sly smile.

"No…of course…I…you're very…it's just – "

"Harry, it's an offer. You can take it or leave it. It won't bother me either way."

"I don't know whether I should be offended or not."

"Be whatever you like, just give me an answer soon because my bladder's screaming at me to get this gut rot out of my system."

"What if I'm terrible?" Harry asked, and Draco took a moment to let the question settle in.

"You…you've never…"

"Ah…once. It wasn't great."

"Wow, so in terms of experience – "

"I'm basically a first year," Harry said dejectedly.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that," Draco said softly, seeing Harry's embarrassment. "Not everyone feels the need to jump in and out of bed with partners, and I'd say your circumstances are pretty unique. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

"It doesn't feel that way. I feel like a freak."

"You're not a freak," Draco said, cupping Harry's chin gently. "People progress at their own pace, there's no right or wrong way to go about it. The most important thing is that whatever you do, it should be with someone you trust."

Harry smiled and said, "In that case, could I please accept your kind offer?"

"Why, Mr Potter, you flatter me."

Draco leant forward and pressed his lips to Harry's. The kiss was soft and gentle, Harry a little tentative, and Draco unwilling to overwhelm him. He moved closer and wrapped one hand around the base of Harry's neck as Harry began to respond a little more actively.

Draco decided he could press a little further and chanced a delicate swipe of his tongue over Harry's lips. Harry made a little noise of surprise but didn't pull back. Instead, he pulled himself closer and Draco took it as an invitation to sweep his tongue in Harry's mouth, which Harry welcome happily. Harry was responsive and a lot more intuitive than Draco would have expected, given the boy's limited experience.

It was sweet and strangely familiar, and although Draco could honestly say that he wasn't attracted to Harry, he couldn't deny that the boy was easy on the eye. He was perfectly happy to be Harry's experiment.

He was just starting to get into the rhythm of their kiss when he heard a noise of surprise from the doorway. He broke away from Harry and glanced over his shoulder, seeing Bill standing on the threshold, looking at them awkwardly.

"Sorry…didn't mean to interrupt," he said, his eyes darting between them. "I'll just…" he turned and walked off down the corridor.

"Shit," Draco breathed.

"Go after him," Harry said, "explain it."

"I doubt he even cared."

"It looked to me like he did." Harry gave him a gentle nudge and said, "Go on, go and talk to him."

Draco stumbled to his feet, his head still very hazy from the alcohol. He headed for the door, stopping when Harry called his name. He turned around and Harry gave him a lopsided smile and said,

"Thanks."

"My pleasure," Draco said, returning the smile, before turning and heading off down the corridor towards the kitchen.

Bill was making coffee, and Draco approached him uncertainly. He felt guilty, despite the fact that that was ridiculous. He had nothing to feel guilty about, but that didn't change the fact that he needed to clear the air.

"It's not what you think," Draco said quietly, watching as Bill filled the cafetiere with boiling water.

"None of my business," Bill replied with a shrug. "Coffee?"

"No thanks. Look, Harry and I, we're not - "

"Draco, it's none of my business," Bill repeated, fetching himself a mug from the cupboard. "You two are cute together."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, we're not together," Draco protested. "Harry's just…he's really confused at the moment, and he needed a friend…someone he trusts to…help him test the waters. I know it sounds a bit odd, but haven't you ever had a snog with a mate?"

Bill turned to face him, his eyes dancing with amusement. "A snog with a mate?" he echoed. "You're going native."

"Very funny," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Look, I like Harry, but not like that, and he doesn't see me that way either. I…I'd hate for you to get the wrong idea."

"Oh? And why is that?" Bill asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Well," Draco said, his cheeks heating, "I hate being misrepresented."

"Is that a fact? And…how do you want to be represented?"

Draco cleared his throat and tried to will the blush away. "I…I suppose I'd like to be represented as…someone currently unattached who…would be open to…an attachment, if the right one came along."

"I see," Bill said with a smile. "Well, I'll be sure to bear that in mind."

"See that you do."

"I can't look at this anymore," Bill said with a sigh, shutting the book in front of him with a thud.

"No joy?" Draco asked, looking up from his own tome.

Bill shook his head and said, "My eyes are starting to cross."

"You've been at it all morning. Maybe you should go for a walk or something, clear your head."

They had been researching all morning, trying to find answers for the case Bill was working on. It was complicated and had thrown up several twists and turns along the way. Draco was good at research, he would even say he enjoyed it, but even he was reaching the end of his tether with this one.

"My skin's starting to itch."

"This place will do that to you," Draco said with a distasteful look around. "I swear, most of the furniture moves."

"No, I mean I need to get out and do…something," Bill said with a slight growl that sent a shiver up Draco's spine.

"I told you to go for a walk."

"No," Bill said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I need something else, something more."

A very inappropriate part of Draco's brain was yelling at him to suggest exactly what Bill might do to work off some of that excess energy. It was all he could do to stop himself from crawling over the table and giving Bill a very practical demonstration. What a wonderful way that would be to rid themselves of any restlessness.

"Do you fancy a sparring session?" Bill asked, jolting Draco from his thoughts.

"I beg your pardon?"

"A little duelling session. Keep the senses sharp, have a little defensive practice."

"I'm not sure – "

"Oh come on," Bill pressed. "I know how well you did in Defence, I'm sure you can take me."

The man was being deliberately provocative, Draco knew that, and he couldn't stop his lip from quirking. "Maybe," he said smoothly, "but do you think you can take me?"

"Only one way to find out," Bill said, wiggling his eyebrows.

They pushed the huge table to the edge of the room and Bill threw up a few protective charms. Draco was nervous, but in a pleasant, tingly sort of way. He trusted Bill and knew that he was in no danger, but he wanted to impress the man, to prove that he was a competent adult, not the frightened child who had run away from home.

"Standard duelling rules apply," Bill said, stretching and limbering up. "Oh and stay away from the face, this is too pretty to hex."

Draco grinned, privately agreeing whole-heartedly. He would rather hex his own face than harm Bill's gorgeous visage. "We're both too pretty for that," he said, and Bill returned his grin.

"First, we bow to each other, Mr Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes but bowed as Bill did, then straightened up and gripped his wand tightly, preparing himself. Bill smirked then threw a quick Expelliarmus, which Draco deflected with ease. Draco threw back a bedazzling hex, but Bill's shield was up before he could blink. The hex rebounded and Draco had to duck to avoid being hit by his own magic.

Bill cast a Stickfast hex and Draco briefly found himself stuck to the floor before he performed the counter-hex and released himself. He blasted Bill with a banishing hex, but Bill deflected it with an impressive shield charm.

"Time to step things up," Bill said with a wicked smile, and Draco felt a thrill go through him.

The duelling became a fast-paced dance of precision and skill. Bill was talented, but so was Draco. Bill had experience on his side but Draco had imagination and was a very quick thinker. It was exhilarating, and Draco couldn't remember when he had last had so much fun. Eventually, they were using the objects in the room to aid their endeavours, using them as weapons or as cover to hide behind.

Draco was kept on his toes as curse after curse was fired. Bill knew several that Draco had never heard of, but he was able to deflect them with a few well-chosen shield charms. There were a couple of near-misses, and Draco would have to find a way of hiding the scorch marks in the walls from Harry. Draco was knocked off his feet a couple of times and Bill suffered being flung across the room once or twice, but neither was injured beyond repair.

By the time they eventually called a halt to proceedings, they were both thoroughly exhausted. Their breathing was ragged and uneven, their clothes sticking to their sweat-slicked bodies. Draco hadn't felt so exhilarated in months, and he would have gone several more rounds if he hadn't felt so ready to keel over.

"You're a damn fine opponent," Bill said, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe his face. Draco almost had to clap his hand over his eyes to stop himself from looking at the exposed line of muscle.

"You're not so bad yourself," Draco replied, trying to catch his breath.

"And," Bill said, moving closer, "I have to say that the ruffled look looks good on you."

Draco was thankful that his cheeks were already flushed, but he couldn't disguise the smile that forced its way onto his face. "Ditto," he replied, with more confidence than he felt, turning smoothly and leaving the room.

AN: Posting a day early because I'm off up north to spend the weekend with family :)