Harry was surprised to see Hedwig waiting for him in his room; he had forgotten that he sent her out that morning. She hooted softly as he removed the letter that was tied to her leg.

Harry,

Dumbledore's been talking to my parents about Malfoy. There's something going on with him that none of them will tell me. Bad luck that you got stuck with him though.

Ron

Harry tossed the letter aside and quickly scribbled a new one to Hermione. Then he balled it up and threw it in the bin. Unsure, he quickly pulled it back out and flattened it. He had had a good evening with Draco, and the boy did seem to be acting decently. But how could he ask Hermione to forgive someone who had called her mudblood and treated her with contempt for years? How could he be sure that Draco didn't still feel that way? And of course Ron wouldn't understand, not without proof. Even then he wasn't likely to be nice. He decided that the letter to Hermione could wait another day.

That morning Harry woke up to the sounds of Uncle Vernon leaving for work. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, deep in thought, before he rolled over and stood up. He walked quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbed an apple from the fridge, and went back to the sitting room. He settled down on the couch and turned on the telly.

A few minutes later Harry heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned his head to see Draco appear at the doorway. He hung back for a moment, then stepped inside and settled down in an armchair, staring in fascination at the pictures moving across the screen. Harry smiled to himself; he was only watching the news, but Draco had never seen anything like it.

"Looks like the rain is finally over," Harry said. "Good thing too, I was getting sick of it."

Draco stared at the weather map. "How do the muggles know this stuff?" he asked.

Harry contemplated trying to explain satellites and weather balloons to someone who didn't know how to plug in a lamp. He was saved from having to invent an explanation by the sound of Aunt Petunia calling him to make breakfast from the hallway.

"I'll try to explain later," he promised as he turned off the telly. He walked into the kitchen, Draco following close behind.

"Make yourself useful boy," Aunt Petunia said upon seeing him. "Make the coffee, and warm up the pack of bacon that's in the freezer so Harry can cook it."

Harry snorted as Draco stopped in the middle of the kitchen, a confused look on his face.

"Well, get on with it boy!" Aunt Petunia snapped. "Or do you not have breakfast where you're from?"

At this Harry burst out laughing. Aunt Petunia rounded on him angrily.

"What's so funny?"

"He's probably never seen a coffee maker or a microwave in his life!" Harry gasped out between peals of laughter. "Wizards use magic for that sort of stuff!" He glanced towards Draco, who was smiling broadly.

"I've never cooked anything anyways, my family had House Elves to do that! I've been in your kitchen more times than I was ever in my own!"

Aunt Petunia looked startled by Draco's admission. Sneering, she bustled away. "I expect breakfast in half an hour, Harry!" she called out.

Harry sank to the floor in a fit of laughter. Draco leaned against a counter, chuckling with a wide grin on his face.

"Have you really never cooked anything?" Harry asked as his laughter subsided.

"No," Draco replied, still shaking. "I tried to make biscuits once, summer after second year. I ended up burning myself. I still have the scar." He held out his right hand, and Harry saw a small crescent-shaped scar at the base of his thumb. "I think I could probably figure some of it out now with magic, but since that's not really an option here…" he shrugged.

"Let me show you how this stuff works," Harry offered. "If you're here a while the Dursleys will probably start treating you like they treat me."

When Aunt Petunia returned half an hour later the kitchen was a mess; coffee grinds were spilled on the counter, pans were sitting smoking on the stove, and the microwave was beeping incessantly. But Draco was grinning broadly as he flipped his first pancake onto Dudley's plate.

The summer continued in a lazy sort of way. The Dursleys had finally realized that Draco didn't understand half of what they said and did, and left him and Harry mostly alone. The two boys spent their time either in Harry's room playing card games (which Draco was surprisingly good at) or wandering around the neighbourhood. Harry wasn't sure that he would call Draco a friend, but he certainly wasn't an enemy, and he was a good deal better than Dudley.

Harry woke on July 31 to a knock at his bedroom door. Curious, he shoved his glasses onto his face and sat up. The Dursleys never knocked.

"Come in," he called.

Draco walked in, a miniscule owl perched on his shoulder. "This came for you," he said, holding out a piece of parchment. "The owl came to the wrong window."

Harry gave a half smile. "That's Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl," he explained. "He does stuff like that a lot. Can you put him over with Hedwig?" He unrolled the parchment as Draco nudged the owl onto Hedwig's perch.

"It's your birthday, isn't it?" Draco asked.

Harry looked up from the letter. "Yeah, it is," he said. "That's what this is, a birthday letter from Ron and Hermione. How did you know?"

"My parents used to talk about it all the time, because of that prophecy you smashed. 'Born as the seventh month dies'. Are the Dursleys going to do anything for it?"

Harry gave a forced laugh. "They don't exactly like to celebrate me. They usually give me old socks and yell at me to make them food. A few years ago they sent me a toothpick for Christmas."

Draco grimaced. "Even the Death Eaters make a bigger deal out of your birthday than your family does. I wish I could do something for you."

"It's all right," Harry said, "I'm used to it. Maybe we can go do something exciting ourselves later."

Draco nodded eagerly. "Yeah, we could make a real adventure of it!"

Harry glanced quickly down the letter from Ron. At the bottom was a section in Hermione's neat writing.

"Hey, look here!" Harry called out, startling Draco. "Hermione says that Dumbledore has been at the Burrow, and that he's planning on coming back to get us soon!"

Draco took the parchment and read the section Harry was pointing to. His face took on a stony expression.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, noticing his sudden silence.

Draco shook his head and returned the parchment. "Nothing." He did not meet Harry's eyes.

Harry didn't say anything. Draco broke the silence a moment later.

"Your aunt and uncle are awful," he said, "but at least they didn't know who I was when I came here. Once Dumbledore comes to get us we're going to the Weasley's. And they know all of the awful things that I've said and done. And that my parents have done. They're going to be awful to me. And I deserve it."

Harry shook his head slowly. "The Weasley's are really nice people, Draco. They understand that people can change."

Draco's grey eyes met Harry's green ones. "Do you honestly think that Ron will accept that?" There was an edge to his voice. "Or Ginny, who almost died because of my father? The twins probably wouldn't even let me into their shop in Diagon Alley, no matter what I told them."

"It's going to be okay. Ron can be really pigheaded sometimes, but he'll come around."

"What will happen when they see this?" Draco was nearly shouting now. He pulled back his sleeve to reveal the swirling mark beneath. "That'll prove to them that I'm not a Death Eater! I'll be lucky if they don't curse me on the spot!"

"Stop!" Harry yelled. "I won't let that happen. I'll explain what happened to them, and if they won't listen to me, Dumbledore will explain it too!"

Draco seemed to calm down and Harry gave him a small smile. "Besides, they wouldn't curse you. Just don't eat anything from Fred and George and you'll be fine."

Draco's face took on a serious expression. "Actually," he said, his voice low, "I should thank them. It was because of them that I managed to get away."

Harry looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"When I was unpacking my trunk I found a couple of their candies; a Puking Pastille and one of the nosebleed ones. They must've fallen in there some time. I remembered people using them to get out of Umbridge's class, and decided to carry them around with me. The Dark Lord had been living with us for a year, and my Aunt Bellatrix, and the Death Eaters were there so often. And because of everything that happened at the ministry, the Dark Lord was unhappy with my family. He threatened my mother, and me, all the time. I thought it might be good to have them, just in case.'

'Then he decided that I could be made a replacement for my father. My mother thought that it would gain back his favour for our family. So, he - he branded me, with his mark." Draco shuddered. "Everyone vomits when he does it, from the pain and the shock. But then he did it to me, and I took a bite of the candy so that I didn't stop. And then my nose started bleeding. My mother got really worried and begged him to let me go to my room while she called a healer.'

'I wrote a letter to Dumbledore as soon as I was alone. He was the only one I could think of who could help. I threw what I could in a bag and buried it deep in my closet, just in case someone saw. I don't know how Dumbledore got my message so fast, or how he did it, but when the healer came, he walked right out with me and took me straight to him."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "That was really brave."

"Not really." Draco's voice was no more than a whisper. "I only did it because I was scared. I'm not like you Harry. I don't stand up and do things because I believe they're right. I run away because I'm scared."

Draco turned his back and rolled his sleeve back over the angry mark on his arm. He winced as the fabric touched it.

"I'm glad you ran away," Harry said at last. "And I'm glad you're here. And if the Weasleys won't take the chance to get to know you, they'll really be missing out."

"Thanks,"" Draco muttered. He shuffled back to his room.