Author's note: well, it made it all the way up to 34 degrees today. i swear, that's positively broiling hot! -grins- i could have run around in that tank top i was wearing yesterday. (Yes dear, and then you would have frozen, and that would have been bad.) (Though possibly not that great a loss...) shut up tamara. and caroline, i don't care. i told you, i'm a skater: i can deal with temperature changes. -sighs- anyway, getting to the actual story, i have to say that chapter 8 is my favorite chapter of them all. it's so... so... well, you'll see... -grins- (I disagree: I prefer the darker ones chapters.) that's because you're morbid. (But I'm the author.) we're all the authors, dear. remember? (No comment...) -sigh-...
disclaimer: i own nothing, caroline owns nothing, tamara owns nothing... (You make it sound like we're homeless and pennyless!) they know what i meant. (You think?) yes, i do think. i give my readers credit for intelligance. why, don't you? (...No comment... again...) she really does love you, i promise! (So long as they keep reviewing!) well, yeah, but since they review anyway, then i see no reason to beg them to... (You should always beg for reviews.) -sigh- and i'm supposed to be the irrational one of the bunch...
--kyra

It wasn't until the day of Easter itself that the egg hunt was mentioned again. He came into my room, something that happened rarely, and deposited a kiss on the forehead to wake me. I could tell something good was about to happen: his eyes were sparkling with boyish excitement.

"What did you do this time?" I asked, sitting up and smoothing down my hair.

He gently batted my hands aside and did the job himself, with the help of a hairbrush. I shivered slightly. I loved the feel of his hands on me, anywhere, but my hair seemed to be especially sensitive.

"You remember on the train?" he asked, still playing with my hair.

I had to think hard to go back in time. "What about it?" I asked finally.

He continued grin at me. "You wanted to go egg hunting," he prompted, running a hand from my hair down my cheek.

I laughed. "Stop it!" I told him. "If you expect me to concentrate, you're going to have to stop distracting me like that!"

He pulled his hands away, instantly contrite. With the distraction gone, I remembered the conversation on the train with much more clarity. "I remember that part, yes," I told him.

"Well, there just happens to be a church in the vicinity," he said, still grinning in delight. "And they just happen to be organizing their yearly Easter egg hunt."

I grinned back at him. "Let me guess: you 'just happened' to sign the two of us up?"

"How in the world did you guess?" he asked.

"I know you too well," I told him.

He laughed. "I'll just have to work harder to work harder then, won't I?" he said. He considered for a moment, the added, "I couldn't find one for adults, so I signed us up to work with little kids. I hope you don't mind."

I looked hard at him, a little exasperated. "Harry, I'm not going to hurt them!"

"I didn't say you would!" he said, expressing outrage at my misconception. "I was just letting you know! Next time I won't tell you anything at all! Let's see how you feel then!"

I laughed softly. "Stop it," I told him, reaching out and snagging his hand. "Please do tell me the plans that you make for me! I'd just rather you not look at me like I'm an ogre who's searching for lunch."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Draco. I really am. It's just, well, a lifetime of caution and feuds is a bit hard to erase in a few months. Not that I'm not trying, mind you," he amended hastily. "I'm trying as hard as I possibly can to put all of that behind us. I'm succeeding more and more, but sometimes, well… I'm sorry."

He looked so forlorn that I couldn't be angry with him. What little irritation I'd managed to work up evaporated, and I scooted closer to him and wrapped my arms around his muscular frame. "Hey," I said softly, smoothing my hands over his back. "Don't worry so much! It'll be fine, I promise. Tell you what, after we're done egg hunting, we can do something that you want to do. Anything at all. Even ride the underground, if that's what you want to do on Easter."

He finally relaxed, and his arms came around me. "I'll take you up on that," he murmured into my neck. His breath felt hot, and it caused a ripple of pleasure to course through my veins. We sat there for a long moment, each passing our strength to the other. Finally, Harry pulled away. "Get dressed," he told me. "It starts at eleven."

I glanced at the clock, which read five 'till nine. "I'm sure I'll be ready by then," I promised. "I assume that it's muggle wear?"

He nodded. "Casual muggle wear appropriate for being around children under the age of ten. That means that the tight jeans are out."

I pouted. "But I look damned hot in those jeans," I told him.

He laughed. "You do," he agreed. "But I'd rather not have to explain the concept of desire for another person to a group of children."

I grinned, envisioning the scene. "All right," I conceded. "But the same goes for you. No showing off your muscles, all right?"

He nodded seriously. "Got it. No talking about Quidditch, no talking about erections, anything else?"

"You could talk about breakfast," I suggested hopefully as my stomach told me forcefully that it did not appreciate my choosing to sleep in. "Better yet, you could make breakfast and then talk about it!"

He gave a mock salute and headed for the door. Once it had clicked shut behind him, I got up and moved to the closet. Teasing notwithstanding, I had no intention of wearing anything risqué in front of the kids. I didn't want to have to answer any awkward questions either.

Finally, I settled for a pair of looser black jeans and a black T-shirt wearing the legend, 'Come to the Dark Side,' with smaller letters adding underneath, 'We have cookies.' I'd found it in a muggle shop over Christmas and hadn't been able to resist. The picture had come, appropriately enough, on Christmas day, and I'd searched until I found the actual shirt. It was a subtle barb at my own personal dark side, one that I knew that Harry would appreciate.

Sure enough, when he looked up as I entered the kitchen, I saw his lips move slightly as he read the words, then he threw back his head in laughter. I joined him, and it was several minutes before either of us could catch our breath enough to speak. "Where did you get that shirt?" he managed finally, rereading it.

"Mark's & Spencer's, at Christmas," I told him. "It was hard to resist."

"I can imagine," he said. "You want to lend it to me when I go face Voldemort this year?"

I stiffened, and I could tell that he knew instantly that he'd said the wrong thing. "Sorry, Draco. I swear, I didn't mean that."

I felt a little sick, but whether it was anger or fear, I didn't know. "Please don't fight him this year," I whispered.

He crossed the distance between us and made me sit. This time, it was me who was being supported by his arms, and his hands which were stroking my back. "Don't worry," he promised. "I swear I won't go looking for trouble."

I made an effort to pull myself together. "It's not that that worries me," I informed him. "It's that trouble, whether you want it or not, tends to find you."

He laughed ruefully. "That is quite true," he agreed. "But let's not think about that yet, okay?"

I nodded. "Deal," I said. He held on for a moment longer, then left to take my dishes to me. We ate in silence, but it was a peaceful silence. When we'd finished, he cleared our plates and began to run the water to wash them. I stretched out on my chair, snagging his chair as a footrest.

"Mind telling me where this egg hunt is happening?" I asked, watching him skillfully rid the plates of their leftover food.

"Regent's park," he told me. "It's organized by some church or other."

"And Regent's park would be?"

"By Buckingham Palace."

"You realize that that tells me nothing at all."

He shrugged. "I know where it is. You'll see. We'll go by bus."

"Thank you."

"Anything."

He finished the dishes, then challenged me to a game of Uno to pass the time until we had to leave. I agreed, and we spent the next several hours happily penalizing each other, and heaping abuse on our hands and that of each other. Finally, he glanced at his watch. "We should go," he said, casually flipping his last card onto the pile and scooping up the pot. "I promised Reverend Pierce that we'd help set up."

"Does that mean hiding the eggs?" I asked suspiciously.

He shook his head. "Nope, it means displaying the snacks on the table in an artful manner."

"Are we supposed to provide said snacks?"

"I told him that neither of us could bake. He said not to worry about it."

I nodded. That was a relief. Though Harry was a decent cook, his baking was terrible, and I'd never used an oven in my life. I wondered idly if Kreacher could bake, but realized that I wouldn't trust anything that he made, even if he'd sworn not to poison us. He would find a loophole, and it would almost certainly be deadly.

We caught the bus and rode it up to Regent's Park. I looked out the window, still not able to accept the diversity of muggles. Wizards, though not really racist, tend to stay fairly close to their birthplace, and most of the wizards that I knew were at least European. Muggles, apparently, didn't have the same point of view, and they traveled voraciously. I saw muggles of every possible description, as well as several people hurrying past that I recognized as wizards. I hoped that none of them had seen me. I am not really a very popular person at this point.

Harry dragged me off, and set the pace at a brisk walk all the way to where a group of people were already converging in the park. They turned when they spotted us, and a short, slightly plump man hurried forward. "Harry!" he said, sounding genuinely glad. "I was worried that you wouldn't make it!"

Harry laughed. "Sorry Reverend. We were engaged in a very important game of Uno. This is my roommate Draco. Draco, this is the Reverend Pierce."

Reverend Pierce looked me over, then stuck out a hand. I shook it, noting as I did that I was actually several inches taller than he was. He gave the impression of being taller than he actually was, and I wondered if there was magic in his background. He obviously wasn't a wizard himself, or he would have reacted to my name, but maybe an ancestor…

Harry called to me, and I went over to help him wrestle with the leg of a folding table. Soon, my speculations about the Reverend Pierce's background were erased by thoughts of deepest hatred to all folding tables. Whoever had designed them might have thought that they were doing muggle-kind, but they'd been sadly mistaken. By the time we'd managed to unjam the leg and set the table upright, we'd attracted an audience. Several older women, accompanied by children of both genders ranging in age from a little boy who seemed to be about five to a tall girl who informed us that she was eleven. Harry stood and nodded cordially to the parents.

"I would shake your hands," he told them. "But they're a bit greasy at this moment." He displayed the hands in question, and several of the children laughed. My own hands were in a similar state, and I nodded to the women. They wandered off after asking a few questions (how old were we, where did we go to school… the usual questions you ask someone that you're going to leave your child with.) I let Harry handle the talking, and finally even the clingiest of the mothers left to talk with the Reverend and his helpers. Harry surveyed the kids. There were about twenty of them, and I knew that we would be splitting up. Sure enough, "All right. Get into two groups of ten. And I mean it. I am in High School, and I can count up to ten. You can pick your own groups, but if you're going to fight with someone, I'd appreciate it if you would put yourselves in different groups."

There was considerable discussion and milling around, but finally they were arranged into two herds. Harry counted them briefly, then nodded. "Congratulations. My name's Harry, and my partner here's Draco."

"That's a funny name!" one of the boys burst out.

I grinned, suddenly at ease with them. "Funny names run in the family," I told him. "I have an uncle named Scorpius." He was dead, having been killed in the first war for rebelling against the Dark Lord, but I didn't mention that part. They wouldn't understand it anyway.

Harry looked at me sharply, but didn't comment. "There are six colors of eggs to find," he informed the group. "In our infinite wisdom, Draco and I picked the colors for you. My group, we get red, yellow, and pink. Draco's group gets green, blue, and orange." He waited as there was the inevitable switching of sides. When the groups had quieted again, he continued. "We have an hour to find sixty eggs. That's thirty per group. It doesn't matter how many eggs any one person gets, because all the candy will be pooled together at the end, and everyone will get the same amount. Does anyone have anything to add?"

"How do we know if the eggs are filled with candy or birdies?" a little girl with blond hair asked. She was in his group, and many of the older children burst out laughing. She bit her lip and looked down at the ground.

"It's a valid question," I told her. "If I'm not mistaken, then our eggs are made of plastic. So you just look and see if you can see where it opens. If you can't, then it's a bird egg, and you should leave it alone. Mother birds can be vicious!"

They all nodded vigorously, and several of them went into long detailed stories about how they'd been pecked by annoyed birds, usually geese. Order was restored, and finally Harry and his group took off down one path. I shepherded my children down the other, and as we walked, began to try and learn their names. The eleven-year-old girl was Delilah, who hated her name. Her brother Austin was six, and his best friend was seven-year-old Matthew. Melanie and Derek were twins, and Sarah lived across the street from them. Carrie was in the same grade as Zack and Ben, and they stuck together. The last one, a shy nine year old, was Emily, and she didn't know anyone. They chatted loudly as we walked, occasionally uttering a squeal of delight as they discovered an egg hiding in the bushes or nestled in the grass. We crossed paths with Harry's group on several occasions, and the two of us shared grins. I was having more fun than I could ever remember having, and it wasn't until there was a lull in the conversation that I realized that everything was not perfect. A man was standing in the path in front of us, looking at me with hostile eyes. I frowned, trying to place him.

"Malfoy," he snarled, and his voice gave him away. McNair, one of my father's enemies.

"McNair," I answered, sending my kids on ahead. This would almost certainly get ugly, and I would rather they not see it.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled.

"I could ask the same of you," I answered, "but I don't think I care enough to know."

"Answer my question!"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm escorting a group of muggle children on an Easter egg hunt."

"And you're going to hang them up in the air later, are you? They're just kids, Malfoy!"

"Why do you automatically assume that I'm a Death Eater?" I burst out. I stuck my left arm out for him to see, allowing him to admire the unmarred skin. "Look, no mark! Now just get on with your walk, will you?"

"Don't talk to me like that, Malfoy!"

"I will talk to you however I want. Now get out of my way." He stepped aside, glaring at me, and I rejoined my group of children, who were clustered around a nearby bush, listening intently.

"What did he mean, hang us in the air?" Carrie burst out, after making sure that McNair was out of earshot.

I sighed, wondering how to explain Death Eaters to a group of muggle elementary school children. "It's just an expression," I told her finally. "I'm not sure what it means, but it's not a very nice thing to do."

"And you won't, will you?" Carrie insisted.

I shook my head. "Nope. Promise."

This seemed to reassure them, and soon, they were chatting as loudly as ever. I, on the other hand, couldn't regain the peace of earlier. I wanted to curse McNair as badly as I knew how for ruining what had begun as an almost perfect day. I couldn't, though, and I forced myself to pay attention to the kids that I was escorting. Austin had announced that he was tired, and everyone was buzzing around, arguing over whether to take a break or not. Austin's faction emerged victorious, and we sat down in the shade of a nearby tree. As we sat, I felt a tug on my arm. I looked down into Emily's eyes.

"Are you and Harry in love?"

The question, though it had been asked quietly, was enough to bring everyone to a dead silence. All of their eyes were fixed on me, and I gulped, wondering how to get out of this one. "We're roommates," I said, a little hesitantly. These were little churchgoing children, for Merlin's sake! What was I supposed to do if they pursued the matter? None of their parents would be happy if I corrupted their children!

"Men who love other men are abominations unto God," Sarah said primly, as though reading my thoughts.

There were nods around the circle, but Emily still looked troubled. "But what if they're really in love?" she asked, hanging her head. I wondered suddenly about her family situation.

"It's not true love," Sarah told her sternly.

I could see that Emily was near tears, and knew that I had to intervene. "Hey," I said, drawing their attention back to me. "No pointing fingers, okay? Until you get older and get boyfriends and girlfriends, you won't know who you love and who you don't."

Emily looked up at me with slightly glistening eyes. "So you and Harry are in love?" she asked, in a hope-filled voice.

I took a deep breath, and nodded. There was a shocked silence for a long moment.

"But that's not allowed," Sarah said finally. "You'll both go to Hell!"

I refrained from saying that homosexuality was the least of my sins, and only shrugged. "Maybe," I agreed.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Derek demanded. Melanie nodded.

"Not usually," I told him. "After all, I don't know that I'll go there. Maybe God will take a liking to me and let me in on good behavior." That brought a slightly shaky laugh from the group, and gradually the tension drained. We rested for a couple more minutes, then decided to keep hunting. Emily clung to me like a bur after that, though Sarah stayed firmly away. The others didn't seem to mind too badly, and I breathed a small sigh of relief.

We returned to the group of parents at last, proudly carrying a basket filled with thirty eggs. Harry's group arrived shortly after, and I knew that he could tell from my face that something was wrong. He walked over, and asked, "What?"

"Ministry goon," I said flatly. His eyes filled with anger.

"What did he do?"

"Nothing much, just accosted me with the usual accusations. It's just a bit too coincidental to make me entirely comfortable."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, no one knows that we're here, yet there he is, walking down the same path as us."

He nodded speculatively. "True…" he said slowly.

The Reverend Pierce, who had come to tell us that the parents were coming to pick their children up, interrupted us. Harry nodded to me, and went off to greet the parents of his group of children. Sarah walked away without looking at me, which I'd expected. You can't change everyone's mind, and I supposed that I should be grateful that there weren't more like her. Still, to be so prejudiced at such a young age… I realized what I'd just thought, and almost burst out laughing. Hadn't I been just the same at her age? It was more sad than funny, if I actually thought hard about it.

I pulled my thoughts back to the present as Emily tugged on my arm yet again. She pulled me over to introduce me to her mother, Margaret. The two spoke quietly for a moment, then Margaret's eyes widened, and she shot a shocked glance at me. I sighed, and got ready to defend myself against the wrath of an overprotective Christian parent. Instead, she walked over and held out her hand. I shook it warily, and waited for her to speak.

"I just wanted to thank you," she told me quietly. "Emily isn't my biological daughter, nor my partner's, but she's been having some adjustment problems since we moved here. But then, I expect you would know about those, wouldn't you?"

I pictured my father's reaction to a hypothetical announcement that Harry and I were eloping, and agreed that, yes, we knew those problems very well.

"Will I ever see you again?" Emily asked. There was a bright hope in her eyes that I found hard to resist. I had to tell her the truth, though, and I sighed.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Harry and I have to go back to school on Monday."

She looked down. I knelt down so that my face was level with hers. "I'd like to try to see you this summer, though," I said.

Her face brightened. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yup. Tell you what. Why don't you give me your address, and I'll write myself a note to visit you."

Margaret smiled at me, and dug into her purse. She came out with a small white card, which I put into the pockets of my jeans.

"Until this summer, then," I said, standing. I grinned at the two of them, and then walked back over to where Harry was standing. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, but I shook my head slightly. This was not the right company in which to discuss it.

The rest of the kids left soon afterwards, and the Reverend Pierce packed us off with a tub of brownies and half a cake, saying that both of us needed feeding. We grimaced at each other, then thanked him profusely and left. Once we'd gotten out of earshot, Harry shifted the brownies so that they rested against his hip and looked at me. "What did she say to you?"

I outlined my brief conversation with Margaret and Emily, while he listened silently. When I was finished, I was half afraid that he would blow up at me for giving away the secret. But instead, he only smiled at me. "At least they didn't try to burn you as an abomination. I've heard of churches that do. Or try to exorcize the demons out."

I snorted. "Exorcise the hormones away? Believe me, there are times when that seems like a very good idea!"

He laughed, and we walked along in silence for a little while longer. Then, "Are you going to go see her?"

"Who, Emily?"

"Who else?"

I frowned, thinking. "I don't know. I want to, but I don't even know where I'll be this summer."

"None of us do," he agreed. "But you'll try?"

I nodded. "I want to. I like her."

He seemed to think for a moment, then he burst out laughing. I looked at him in slight irritation. "What?"

"I was just thinking what Ron would say if he heard you say that."

I didn't think it was funny at all. I was sick of being treated like the epitome of evil, whether for my family or my house or my sexual orientation. He seemed to catch my mood, because he stopped laughing.

"Don't think about it," he told me softly. "He's miles away, they're all miles away. It's just the two of us."

"And the goon," I reminded him.

"Forget him," he advised. "He's an idiot."

"He has power."

Harry grinned. "So do we," he reminded me. "Dumbledore always says that love is the most powerful weapon we have."

I snorted. "Dumbledore, no offence intended, is a fool."

"That's what you think," he countered. "But he's brought me through some of the hardest times I could imagine. He kept me sane and mostly all right."

My mouth twisted into a slight smirk. "Mostly all right? What part's missing?"

There was a beat of silence, then he said, "My common sense."

Both of us laughed then, and the conversation switched to Quidditch, oblivious to the muggles who watched us. By the time we'd reached the bus stop, we were both cheerfully abusing the Chudley Cannons, regardless of alliances of friendship. The subject of Emily and her mother wasn't brought up any more, for which I was infinitely grateful. I didn't think that I could talk about them anymore for the time being.

When we got back to the house, it was almost one o'clock. He locked the door behind us, then led me into the living room. A flick of his wand lit the fire, and we sat in two of the armchairs. I summoned two glasses of water, which we drank with relish. It was a hot day, and both of us were thirsty. As we drank the water and began to munch on the brownies, we continued our discussion on Quidditch. Finally, he swallowed the last mouthful of brownie and looked up at me. "Remember this morning, when you said that I could pick any activity I wanted?"

I nodded, wondering if he'd take me up on my invitation to ride the underground. I sincerely hoped not. True love notwithstanding, I didn't think that I could survive being dragged through there again. If Sarah and her cronies were right, and I was going to go to Hell, then I knew exactly what my own personal corner would be like. I wasn't looking forwards to it.

"What did you choose?" I asked, a little warily despite my best intentions.

"Dancing."

"Excuse me?"

"Do you want to go dancing with me?"

I looked at Harry in shocked disbelief. Surely I had misheard him! "What?" I managed finally.

"I said," he told me again, in a patient voice. "Do you want to go dancing with me?"

"Now?"

"No. Tonight. It's Easter. It's a Sunday. No one we know is anywhere even close to here."

I looked at him closely, then shrugged. "Why not? We'll need other clothes, you know."

He grinned. "We can go shopping, can't we?"

"It's not like we need the money," I conceded. "Do you have any idea what to wear?"

Harry shook his head. "We'll have to find out, won't we?"

"I suppose we will."

I still refused to set foot on the Underground, claiming that he only got one favor, so we walked the six blocks to the shopping district. We talked about random things on our way there, and I realized that I knew significantly more about Muggle London than I'd thought. When we finally arrived, the two of us stopped in amazement. I realized then that I didn't know that much about Muggle London after all. "They need all of these shops?" I asked, incredulous.

Harry shrugged. "They don't have Madam Malkin to do all the fittings," he said. "It only makes sense that they would need more shops. Shall we start at the beginning?"

I shrugged my acquiescence, and we hit the first shop.

Harry quickly wandered away from Draco and began to browse the stores. He sensed immediately which were the ones made for those with more money than sense, and shied away instinctively. Leave the stores like that to Draco.

He didn't know how he'd known that it would happen yet again, but he wasn't at all surprised to turn the corner of a row of pants and run smack dab into none other than Parvati Patil. Amazing, she seemed shocked to see him there. "Harry!" she exclaimed, glancing swiftly over her shoulder at the empty row behind them. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Shopping," he said, hoping that she'd just drop it. Unfortunately, her propensity to guess when other people were trying to hide things was legendary, and it didn't fail her now.

"For who?"

"For me."

She raised a pair of immaculately disbelieving eyebrows. "In here?! Harry, I've lived with you for five and three quarter years, remember? I know perfectly well what you wear, and it isn't anything that you could find in here."

"And why can't I decide to dress up every now and then?" he demanded, feeling oddly defensive.

She shrugged. "You could," she agreed. "But you don't."

"And how do you know?"

"I told you, I've lived with you. I know what you wear."

"My tastes could have changed."

She made a noise that, in a less attractive witch, would undoubtedly have been labeled a snort. "For your taste to have changed that drastically would be the equivalent of… say… Hermione suddenly dressing like her little sister did at the Valentine's Day ball."

Harry, remembering in vivid detail the clothes that Hermione had borrowed from her aunt and worn over Christmas, carefully refrained from saying anything.

"Who are you dressing for?" she asked, taking a step closer. "And don't you dare lie to me, Harry Potter. I know things about you that you'd rather not have spread around, and I don't shy away from little things like blackmail."

Harry looked at her in disbelief. "What do you know?" he demanded.

She only grinned. "Tell me the truth, and you will never find out."

"Parvati, what do you have against me?"

"You really want to know?"

He nodded. "You sure?"

"Just tell me!"

"All right. If you're absolutely sure."

"Parvati!"

She grinned. "Fine. You wake up screaming from your nightmares at least once a month. One time, Ron stole your Firebolt for an evening, and you raged through the dormitory, swearing that Malfoy had taken it and demanded blood payment. You and Ginny Weasley almost slept together no fewer than three times, always interrupted by one of your roommates, though never her brother, thankfully. You spent ages last year writing bad poetry to Cho Chang and then blowing it up with well-placed spells. Is that enough for you?"

Harry was staring blankly at her. "Parvati… how do you know all this?"

She laughed. "Harry, the Inner Eye isn't my only source of wisdom, you know."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

She only grinned. Suddenly, Harry remembered with a sickening jolt that Parvati was going out with Dean Thomas.

"I am going to kill Dean," he seethed, turning away from her.

She laughed again. "Don't be mad at him," she counseled. "It's not really his fault."

"Oh?" Harry asked furiously. "Then that would make it yours?"

She didn't deny it. Instead, she propped her hands on her hips and eyed him predatorily. "You still haven't answered my question. Spill!"

He sighed, knowing that he was out of loopholes. "Parvati," he begged. "Just drop it. Please?"

She didn't. He groaned. "Just promise me that you won't tell anyone!"

She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "I can do that," she agreed.

"It's… I'm here with…" he trailed off, his face flaming.

She finally took pity on him. "It's Malfoy, isn't it?"

His head jerked up, staring wildly at her. "How… how did you know that?"

She laughed. "Harry, I've known for ages. Don't worry, I haven't told anyone."

"And you won't?"

"Of course not!"

He sagged with relief. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Suddenly, her grin shifted subtly, giving it a wicked glint that Harry didn't trust in the slightest. Sure enough, her next statement sent shudders trickling up his spine. "So what's it like? Being with him, I mean?"

He shook his head wildly, hoping without hope that he had mistaken her meaning. "What do you mean?" he whispered.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she told him in amusement, crushing his feeble hopes. "Is he… good?"

Defeated, Harry nodded. She grinned. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I am going to kill you, Parvati Patil," he muttered, knowing as well as she did that there was no real threat in his words.

"No you're not," she informed him brightly. "You're going to thank me."

"And why is that?" he demanded.

"Because I am going to save your wardrobe, of course."

Harry's heart sank, and he braced himself for a very long afternoon.

We finally arrived at Grimmauld Place exhausted and amazed. Both of us were carrying bags of very expensive clothes, and I wondered if this was what my mother felt like when she got back from one of her shopping sprees. "Sorry I talked you into that," Harry said, collapsing into a chair.

I grinned at him, and draped myself in another one, next to his. "Don't be. It was… educational."

"Suicidal, you mean," he corrected. "I refuse to believe that there are people who do that every day!"

I shrugged. "Shopping addicts," I told him. "They're out there."

He laughed. "I could tell," he said. He glanced at his watch. "It would be a waste to not go out tonight," he observed. "To be fully prepared, I think I'm going to go take a nap."

"Be my guest," I said, shrugging again. "I'm going to the library."

He rolled her eyes. "You're always in the library, Draco. You're starting to sound like Hermione."

"A year of being her partner in Advanced Magic had rubbed off, apparently," I said. He sighed, but didn't comment. He hugged me affectionately, then grabbed his bag and headed up the stairs. I watched him go, then took my own bag and headed towards the library.

No matter how much Harry teased me about spending my life in that room, I couldn't deny that it fascinated me. Generations of Blacks had built it up until it contained numerous volumes on just about any subject imaginable. I thought that, if I looked hard enough, I could find some that not even the Hogwarts library had. I hadn't mastered the filing system, though, and I was loath to change it. It didn't seem to be either by author or by subject, and the books appeared to be placed randomly. I was sure that there was some sort of system, and I was determined to master it. I hadn't had any luck yet, though and as a result, I spent most of my time looking for the books that I wanted, not reading them. I was also convinced that there were hidden sections that I had yet to discover, and I wanted to find them badly. I decided that it would make a nice weekend project, and I started systematically searching. Again. I'd gone over the library so many times that I knew it by heart, and I still hadn't found anything. I'd tried all the traditional methods: pulling the heads on the fireplace, trying all the books, tapping all the wall panels… everything I could try, but I'd had no luck. That day again, I came up empty, and it was starting to bother me. I knew my ancestors well enough to realize that just because I couldn't find anything didn't mean that it wasn't there, and this was the kind of library that had to have secret rooms. There was just one thing I hadn't tried, and I really didn't want to. There didn't seem to be any choice, though, and with a sigh, I called, "Kreacher!"

With a loud crack, the disgusting House Elf appeared in front of me. He bowed ridiculously low and started to make his customary adorations, but I stopped him curtly. "Kreacher, where's the secret room in the library?"

Kreacher looked at me in surprise. "Master Malfoy has not found it? Why did Master not call upon me sooner?"

"Just tell me where it is," I said impatiently. He bowed again, and ran off to the opposite end of the room. I followed slowly, and saw him point to a particular book. It was a huge volume, and I remembered not thinking anything odd about my not being able to lift it.

"The password that the Master wants is freedom," Kreacher said, and his expression made it quite clear who'd set the password.

I dismissed him shortly, and looked carefully at the book. It seemed to be stuck to the bookcase, I realized, and cursed myself for not having seen it earlier. I pulled out my wand and touched it to the book. "Freedom," I said clearly. Nothing happened for a moment, and I thought that Kreacher had been wrong, but slowly, the book fell back with a grinding noise that suggested that no one had used this particular passage for a very long time. The bookshelf pulled out from the wall, and revealed a twisting staircase. It's always a twisting staircase, isn't it? With a sigh, I lit my wand and started down. I waited for the grinding sound of the bookshelf closing behind me, but it didn't come. That was a relief, at least.

The stairs seemed never ending, but it was worth it. I entered a dimly lit room, and blinked owlishly for a moment before my eyes adjusted. Then I gasped in delight. Another library, much fuller and better organized than the one upstairs, awaited me. I turned off my wand, and started to walk around the shelves, pausing to look more closely at a volume once in a while. These were definitely books not found in the Hogwarts Library, not even in the Restricted section. These books were meticulously organized by subject, and then by author, and I browsed through a section that looked suspiciously like some kind of Grimoires. I pulled one out at random and flipped to the first page. Blood, Blast, and Fire. The memoirs of Helena (Night Fire) Black. I turned to the next page, and saw a picture of a woman, presumably Helena herself. She certainly looked like the kind of person who would write a book like this, with long black hair and a very pale, slightly pointed face. She was looking straight at me, and her eyes caught and held mine. Slowly, she smiled, and it was a smile full of danger and seduction. I turned the page quickly.

More curious than wary, I flipped to the middle of the book. It was more a diary, I realized. The chapters were dated, and they seemed to flit from subject to subject without any apparent order. Raising an eyebrow, I turned back to the beginning and began to read.

I looked up from the book when a shadow fell across it. Harry was standing over me, his eyebrows raised. When he realized that he had my attention, he demanded, "Do you have any idea how long you've been there?"

I looked around. There was no sunlight in the hidden library, and I had been completely absorbed in Helena's, or Night, as she called herself, memoirs. "No," I admitted.

"It's time for dinner. Kreacher's hiding in the attic, so we'll be able to eat peacefully."

"Did you cook anything special?" I asked, closing the book and putting it on the desk to look at later.

He grinned. "Come and find out!"

I rolled my eyes and stood. Even if my mind didn't realize how long it had been, my body had, because it seized up. Harry caught me before I could fall. "If you laugh at me," I warned, wincing as the feeling started coming back into my legs.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he promised, letting go. I staggered slightly, but managed to stay standing under my own power. The pins and needles sensation was already painful, and I was not looking forwards to climbing back up the stairs to the normal library.

To his credit, Harry did try. He did everything humanly possible to keep from laughing, but in the end, it got the better of him. I glared when he finally let out a giggle. "It's not funny," I informed him haughtily.

He shook his head loyally, but he was grinning. I turned away from him and continued slowly up the stairs. By the time we'd reached the top, Harry had given in to his laughter, and my legs had decided that they had punished me enough. I could walk almost normally, and I didn't even hold on to anything as I made my way to the kitchen. When we reached it, the smell of the dinner that he'd made went a long way to dispelling my annoyance, and his laughter had been contained to an occasional snort of mirth.

"Are you trying to bribe me with food?" I demanded, eyeing the meal that he'd laid out.

He grinned. "Of course not. I'm only trying to soften you up."

I snorted, but didn't answer, concentrating on setting the table and eating. The meal passed in companionable silence, and I found myself wondering yet again how on Earth I'd managed to get this far with him. It still seemed impossible that he'd chosen me. I'd given him every reason to hate me over the years, and the fact that he was willing to forgive that never ceased to amaze me. We finished our meal in silence, and cleared the dishes. I left mine neatly stacked by the sink, which caused him to raise his eyebrows at me. I grinned, and climbed the stairs to change.

We'd decided to shop separately in the end, thinking that it would be more fun to surprise each other than to know what to expect. I'd chosen my clothes with him in mind, and as I pulled them out of the bag and spread them out on the green quilt, I wondered how he would react. With a shrug, I pulled my T-shirt over my head and stripped down to my underwear. Methodically, I pulled on the black jeans. They were rather tight, and I grinned at my reflection in the mirror. They fit me well, and I knew it. The form-fitting black T-shirt went next, and then the belt. I'd found it in one of the stores, and I couldn't help buying it. Black leather, of course, with silver studs all around it, the clasp in the form of a skull. I grinned a little cynically as I adjusted it to the proper slant. The Dark Lord would see how much I respected him! It was unwise, I knew, but sometimes, you need to be naïve. It helps you survive. Black leather boots completed the outfit, along with a discreet silver necklace. I looked at myself critically. To my own eyes I looked perfect, but would Harry think the same? I shook my head in annoyance, and my hair caught my attention. I frowned at it critically. I supposed that it would do, but it was starting to get on my nerves. I wondered what I would look like with the spikes that I'd seen some of the muggle boys wearing. I pulled out my wand and tried it, laughing out loud at the result. Definitely not my style. I undid the spikes and settled for leaving it loose. If it annoyed me too much, I could always charm it back.

I emerged from my room, to find Harry waiting for me. I grinned at the expression on his face. "Don't you like it, Potter?" I asked wickedly, surveying him.

He gulped, and raised his eyes to my face. "It's… well, isn't it…" he broke off, his face flaming.

I laughed, taking rather a lot of pleasure from the expression on his face. "Oh no," I assured him. "It's not."

"Oh," he said. He looked down, and made an effort to control his face. When he met my eyes again, his face had subsided to a slight reddish tinge. "I am going to be fighting for you all night, do you realize that?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Fight hard," I advised. He laughed with me, and offered me his arm. I took it with a slight bow and we walked down the stairs together. Both of us ignored Kreacher, who was frowning horribly at us.

Once out into the street, Harry set the pace, walking briskly to keep warm. Even though it was April, the air was crisp, and I was grateful for the speed of the walk. It kept us warm, and too out of breath to talk. I felt that any words we spoke would destroy the mood, and I didn't want that. Not now. We'd come so far, and I felt that this was a special turning point. This time, it was him who had asked me, not the other way around. I felt that he accepted me for who I was, not for who he thought I should be, and the thought warmed me even more than the walk.

Too soon for my tastes, the walk came to an end. Harry stopped in front of a small, rather insignificant building, and motioned me inside. "They won't ask us for identification at the door," he told me. "But you'll need some if you want to buy alcohol."

I grimaced. I have tried alcohol, just to see what it tastes like, but it was vile. I doubt that there's any chance of me turning into an alcoholic! We passed through the door into a dimly lit room, full of the scents of sweat, perfume, cigarette smoke, and sticky drinks. I grinned. This was the last place Draco Malfoy would ever be found, especially not with Harry Potter. I loved it already.

The evening was an unqualified success. Both of us attracted attention, and we were offered countless dances and refreshments. People didn't seem put out by my refusal to drink, though I saw Harry sneak a few sips, and my obvious youth discouraged any lewd attempts on my person. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had so much fun, and I doubted that I would experience anything like it in the near future. For once, I was in a place where no one had ever heard of the Dark Lord, or Azkaban, or even my family. People yelled at me if I stepped on their feet, and flirted outrageously when I caught their eye. I wasn't the heir to the richest family in Britain anymore, I was just one more hot guy to target.

Around three in the morning, I found myself dancing slowly with Harry. It was the first time we'd gotten to dance together all evening, and I relaxed against his solid body. We didn't speak, but our pulses beat in synchrony, and we looked directly into each other's eyes. I saw a promise reflected in his emerald gaze, a pledge of fidelity that never needed to be spoken. When the music ended, he drew me into a long, sweet, slow kiss. There was a hush in our vicinity, and for once, Harry didn't mind being the center of attention. We finally separated, and the depth of feeling that I saw in his face made me want to melt. I smiled at him, a smile that made up for all the insults and injuries on both parts. "Always," I whispered, voicing what we'd been transmitting for the entire dance.

He nodded. "Forever," he replied. He reached over, and his lips enfolded mine once again.

author's note 2: aww, isn't that sweet? see, this is why i love this chapter so much! (I still prefer angst.) yes, well, you like sasuke as well, so that's no indication of taste. (Sasuke rules!) whatever you say honey... -rolls eyes-
--kyra