Back for chapter two I see. Well…good. Let me just get some Dr. Pepper and I can sit down and write.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Nor do I own Book of Enchantments by Patricia C. Wrede. (Don't worry, this isn't going to crossover, the book is just mentioned.)

Warnings: Draco's snobbery. (Ehehehehehe.) Mild swearing.

Ghosts

Chapter Two

Harry had desperately hoped that when he woke up, he'd discover that the whole thing was a dream. No such luck.

After a morning of listening to Draco complain (in the future he apparently was not to be woken before nine o'clock), whine (they had the wrong shampoo, no proper hair care products, and no fresh towels), and generally annoy the hell out of everyone around him (he had to have his eggs scrambled, but the person had to whisk them for forty-five minutes first, he didn't like jam on his toast, and he abhorred bacon), Harry was ready to strangle him. Truly, if Dumbledore didn't want Draco dead, why did he send him here?

The only moment when Harry appreciated his presence was when Draco had first seen Dudley. The blonde haired boy's eyes followed his very large cousin for a moment before he leaned towards Harry.

"No wonder you never make fun of Longbottom, he's a swimsuit model compared to your cousin." Draco whispered conspiratorially. Although it irked him a little that he had made a jab at Neville, he couldn't help but feel glad to have someone else at the house that agreed with him.

Dudley had the situation explained to him by his parents and so was very carefully avoiding Harry and Draco at all costs. Harry found it hard to shake Draco, who acted as though the second he was alone he might turn into a Muggle. Dudley went to hang out with his friends and Harry just stayed inside because he had to do chores—the only time when Draco did leave him alone because Malfoys apparently didn't do chores.

When he finished, he went back upstairs, opening his door to see Draco holding up his Invisibility Cloak with a very shrewd look on his face. Harry sighed. He could tell where this was heading.

"You have an Invisibility Cloak?" Draco asked in an accusing tone.

"It was put away…" Harry frowned. "Have you been going through my stuff?"

"There's nothing else to do." Draco tossed the cloak aside and flung himself down on Harry's bed. "This is the most boring house I've ever been in."

"Then go outside or something." Harry picked up his cloak in an irritated fashion. Draco obviously didn't have any respect for another person's things.

"Go outside?" Draco repeated it like it was a foreign phrase. He stood up, marched over to Harry and stuck out his arm, pulling back a long sleeve, baring the white skin to the world. "Do you see this Potter? It's seventeen years worth of perfect care—it is not seventeen years worth of going outside."

"Well, I don't remember anyone assigning me as your entertainment committee." Harry retorted. "So, in answer to you being bored, all I can say is it's not my problem."

"No one said it was." Draco put his nose in the air and looked out the window, leaning against the window sill. Harry rolled his eyes and decided to try to pick up the room a little bit. His books and stuff were lying around and while normally he wouldn't care, he did not need Draco whining about how messy the place was as well. In fact, the less that Draco talked, the better.

But there were a few things really bothering Harry about this whole arrangement. For one, he specifically remembered Draco swearing revenge against him at the end of fifth year. Had he really had that big of a change of heart? And for that matter, just why had Draco switched sides? He had been raised in the Malfoy family and he was always bragging about how they were 'real' wizards. Why hadn't he been able to make that final leap into being a Death Eater? Draco had never really struck him as cowardly. Oh sure, he had done some things that didn't strike Harry as brave, but then, they were the sort of things that one might do quite sensibly instead of waiting around to get killed.

He wasn't going to ask though. For one, all he had to do was get through the rest of this summer and he was sure that Draco would be placed somewhere else, or something. And two, he hadn't been friends with Draco in the first place so part of him just didn't care. Somehow, when faced against Voldemort who was hell bent on making his life miserable, all of his rivalry with Draco had felt so petty and small. In other words, he had much bigger fish to fry than Draco Malfoy.

Plus, picking up books right now made it so he could focus on something other than Malfoy. At least at Hogwarts, though they lived in the same building, they were very far apart. Being that this was their room now, he couldn't just go to his room to not be around him. Why didn't Dumbledore have him stay at Hogwarts? That made perfect sense to Harry.

Unless he finally realized that yes, the enemy can get to me in there so maybe it's not quite as secure as we're always told…

Sighing wasn't going to help the situation any. In fact, it would probably only exacerbate things even further. As he finished putting his things he away, he noticed Draco getting up and going over to the book shelf. There were books in that room, still. Harry had leafed through a few on occasion when he didn't have anything else to do. Dudley had still never touched them.

"What are these?" Draco's lip curled upwards. "More textbooks? Hoping to pull ahead of Granger to be the world's biggest apple kisser?"

"No, they're my cousins, but he never read any of them. They're books written by Muggles." Harry answered in a steady voice though he just wanted to go over and hit Draco over the head with a broomstick so that the blonde-haired boy would go unconscious. Maybe after that he could roll him under the bed and pretend he wasn't there.

"They sound awful." Draco pulled one off the shelf and looked on the back of it. "In this book, you will find magic previously untold. Cats who can talk…and unicorns who won't listen. Roses of prophecy…and the sixty-two curses of Caliph Arenschadd. Cruel sisters…and unexpected friends. (Not to mention Queen Cimorene, King Mendanbar, and the Frying Pan of Doom.) Open the Book of Enchantments at your own risk…and prepare to face the magic."

"Wonder where he got that…" Harry frowned in thought. The Dursleys were so deathly afraid of magic that he couldn't imagine Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia buying it.

"That's the lamest thing I've ever heard." Draco snorted and put the book back on the shelf. "Absolute rubbish."

"Compared to all those published novels you've finished?" Harry quirked an eyebrow challengingly.

"I would never write a novel, though perhaps I should think about an autobiography or having someone write my life story. I'd make a rather wonderful book character." Draco observed, looking off into space for a moment. Then he seemed to remember Harry was there. "I suppose it's your favorite book? Did your dead mother read it to you?" Draco sneered and Harry, before he could stop himself, grabbed Draco by the collar and slammed him against the bookshelf, causing books to fall off the shelf.

"Don't you ever talk about my parents in front of me again." Harry's voice was low and threatening. "Or I'll kill you." It even surprised him to realize how real the threat seemed. He could kill Draco. He knew how to use Avada Kedavra, hell, everyone in the Wizarding World was expecting him to use it on Voldemort any day now but killing Draco was a far cry from killing Voldemort. But there seemed something very wrong about Draco insulting his family. His mother. His father. Both dead.

"I'll talk about whoever I want in front of you." Draco was furious as he grabbed at Harry's hands to make him loosen his grip. "You think just because your parents died you have the right to ruin everyone else's life! You're the reason he's dead!" Draco pushed Harry away at last, only to surprise the green-eyed boy by punching him in the jaw. But Harry recovered quickly and lunged at Draco. Before they both knew it, they were on the ground, kicking and hitting each other, rolling over and over again, never letting the other person end up on top. All the frustrations between the two, the anger, the animosity, it was servicing right then.

The only reason it ended was because Aunt Petunia came in to see what the noise was about and screamed in rage when she saw the two boys fighting.

"You're going to get blood all over the carpet!" Petunia grabbed both boys by the arm and, surprisingly for such a thin woman, hauled them both to their feet and began dragging them down the hall. "I knew if one of your nasty little friends came here you would end up destroying this house! Well I won't have it! You can just stay outside until dinnertime, both of you."

"You don't have any authority over—" Draco began sullenly as she let go of Harry to open the front door and then shoved both boys outside.

"Yes I do, this is my house, and I won't have it!" Petunia repeated and then looked around at the other houses on Privet Drive. "And if anyone asks, Harry, this is your mute second cousin."

"I'm not—" Draco tried again but Petunia slammed the door in their faces. They heard the locks click into place. "She thinks these stupid Muggle locks are going to keep me out?" He pulled out his wand, which Harry did not specifically remember giving back to him, and so the dark-haired boy snatched it out of his hand.

"They will. You aren't using any magic." Harry told him, pointing Draco's wand at the Slytherin boy. "You promised last night."

"Like I'm going to keep my promises to you." Draco grabbed his wand back and put it in his pocket. There was a moment of silence between the two of them and Harry decided to just walk off. As soon as he set off down the sidewalk. Draco was right next to him. Great. Harry supposed that they were out in the open and Dumbledore had probably meant for Harry to keep Draco out of danger. Who would have ever thought that him and Draco would be walking along the sidewalk together? Of course, Draco was pissed off and Harry was feeling something much less than fond of the boy beside him. He thought of the way Draco's eyes had blazed just before he got his punch in.

"You're the reason he's dead!"

What did that mean?

It was foolish to ask but it seemed so much more foolish not to ask. Was Draco blaming him for a death? Harry knew the deaths of Cedric and Sirius both weighed down on his heart but somehow, he couldn't see why Draco was upset with him over their particular deaths.

"Malfoy…what did you mean?" Harry asked tentatively. The blonde-haired young man turned sharply towards him. One eyebrow raised questioningly and Harry already felt he had made some mistake. Their shoes slapped against the hot pavement. "You said I was the reason someone died…who did you mean?" The answer to this might help him solve the mystery of why Draco had suddenly switched sides.

The pale blue eyes swung to one side, definitely away from Harry. "No one Potter, forget it."

"But—" began Harry.

"I said forget it. Or maybe you've never had something you don't feel like talking about." Draco was practically glaring at him now. Harry thought of the many times he had been made to talk about something that made him just want to curl up under a blanket and not think about. There had been nights after Sirius' death and even now where he had been so overcome by emotion that he would have to clamp a hand over his mouth to resist the urge to vomit. And yet still Hermione insisted he speak and write to her about it. Sometimes it made him feel a little better, hell, sometimes it helped but it also hurt like hell. How could a wound heal if everyone insisted he pick at it?

There was silence again, just between the two of them. The sounds of summer drifted through the air. It felt nice not saying anything at all, even if Harry knew Draco was only being quiet because he was annoyed.

By the time dinner rolled around, Harry and Draco had circled around three blocks more times than Harry could count on one hand. Dinner was a short, quiet affair. Draco actually got up from the table before Harry and just went straight up to their room. Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to do something but he felt somewhat obligated to. A voice that sounded remarkably like Hermione's was telling him that he should be trying to make peace…but six years of animosity couldn't be taken away just because they were thrown together. Was that what Dumbledore was trying to do?

He climbed the stairs slowly. Maybe he shouldn't even bother trying to talk to Draco. He got to his door, pushing it open, and leaning the doorframe with one arm. The room had been dark and Harry saw that Draco was already under the covers on the floor and petulantly turned over so he wasn't facing Harry.

"Hey." Harry said, resigning to try something, even if it didn't work. His attempt was interrupted by Hedwig flying through his windows with a latter. "Oh, Hedwig."

Hedwig patiently let him get the letter and Harry noticed that Draco was now sitting up and looking expectantly at him. It was from Ron. Harry read it eagerly.

Dear Harry,

We're back at…er, sorry, I almost wrote something I'm not supposed to. Good thing Hermione's reading over my shoulder. We're at the place where we were during summer fifth year. Anyways, Dumbledore says you're supposed to come too! We can spend the rest of the summer together. It's a lot cleaner than it was. Also, my mom told me to tell you that there's plenty of room for both of you. I don't know what that means, neither does Hermione. Is someone staying with you? We're coming on Wednesday, well, Tonks and Lupin and a few others anyways. See you when you get here and Hermione sends love.

Sincerely,

Ron

"What's that?" Draco asked in his usual arrogant tone.

"It's a letter from Ron. We're going to stay with them." Harry explained slowly. He felt like he was doing that a lot lately. "At the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Where is it?" Draco inquired, his mouth twisted into a frown.

"I can't actually tell you. Dumbledore is the Order's Secret Keeper." Harry handed him Ron's letter, not really knowing why. Ron didn't like Draco. Draco certainly never showed feelings of chumminess towards the redhead. Or Hermione for that matter. Why would Mrs. Weasley not just tell them who was coming? Maybe it was another order from Dumbledore. He almost snorted with contempt. Some order. "On Wednesday." This felt stupid. Draco wasn't reading the letter, he was carefully watching Harry. It was a considering, measuring kind of look. What did he want?

Harry practically fell over on his bed. He didn't need Draco heaping more frustrations and responsibilities on his back. He was going to have to tell Ron and Hermione who was staying with them. He was going to be the one who had to keep people from cursing each other.

"Stop looking at me." Harry said when he realized that Draco was still looking at him with that measuring look. "If you want to say something, say it. Just stop looking at me."

"I was just thinking about how stupid this all is." Draco spoke loudly and Harry turned his head towards the blonde-haired boy, who stuck out well in the dark room because of his coloring. "Being made to live with you. Being made to live with Weasley and them."

"It was your choice!" Harry sat up. "You're the one who wanted to be on our side!"

"You weren't there!" Draco was shaking with anger. "You don't know. You don't know anything about it."

"Then tell me!" Harry slid to the floor and seized Draco's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "If you're going to blame me for what happened, at least tell me what happened! Stop being such a tragic idiot and just say it!" Draco's wide-eyed expression for that one moment told Harry that Draco had never really been spoken to like that before.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you." Draco pushed Harry's hands away. "And stop putting your hands on me. I don't care what you and Weasley get up to but I'm not like you."

"You know what? Since I'm so damn horrible to be around, why don't you just stop talking to me until they come and get us?" Harry asked, clearly pissed off. "And I won't talk to you and then we'll both be happy!"

"Oh, is that what we'll be? Happy?" Draco turned over and faced the other way as he lay under his blanket.

"What the hell does that mean?" Harry questioned in exasperation.

"Piss off." Draco muttered.

I'm not sure what this means now. If he would just be halfway decent…

And what happened to him? Why does it give him the right to be such a…a bastard?

He found himself staring at the ceiling, trying to figure this out, long past when he heard Draco's breathing finally give way to light snoring. If there wasn't any peace between Harry and Draco, there definitely wouldn't be any between Draco and the others. But how was he supposed to fix things? Or at least make them better?

Harry finally drifted off to sleep, wondering what else was in store for him.

I rather liked this chapter. It might have been better if my dad had stopped popping into my bedroom while I was trying to write that last bit. So if it doesn't seem all that good to you, blame it on him for breaking my concentration. (Just kidding.) The Book of Enchantments by Patricia C. Wrede is one of my favorite books. I got a copy of it in the 8th grade, back in my English teacher assistant days. It's pretty good, I highly recommend it to people. It's got some comical stories but also really good darker stories. This story is kind of flip-flopping I noticed. I think originally I meant it to be a more comical story but now that I'm planning it out it's just getting darker and darker. (This tends to happen with me.) Also! I slipped in an obscure Nero Wolfe reference in this chapter. The whole 'scrambled eggs must be whisked for forty-five minutes beforehand' thing. I believe it's in The Mother Hunt and Nero Wolfe says that that's how long a chef will whisk eggs before demanding a raise. Well, anyways, see ya guys next time!