Chapter 8: Intermediate

Whether in their natural environment or in an artificial context, a change in territory or territorial boundaries can at times be a disconcerting experience for a foxlet glider. Through less pronounced in juveniles, the typical procedure of distinguishing territory borders and familiarising with fellow community inhabitants – friendly or otherwise – can at times be an extensive sequence.

This process can be soothed, however, by the presence and companionship of bond-partners or natal fellows. Given that frequently it is the Berserkers that require relocation, with the majority only capable of co-mingling with an absence of aggression in particularly large environments, this companionship is all the more necessary. For those introduced into an environment already boasting the presence of established foxlets, it is often beneficial to have an intermediary of sorts – creature or human – that can act as a bridge between the new and established. Though often initially volatile, when common ground is reached ensuing relationships that develop can often be quite strong.

Pipsqueak had slipped down into Harry's arms, a request to be hugged rather than observe from her perch at his neck, when they'd approached Hagrid's hut. She was still huddled in the folds of Harry's overcoat, shivering from either distress or the cold, nearly an hour later. Harry knew that foxlet gliders disliked the cold on general principle but he hadn't thought they to be that bad. Not when there wasn't even any snow.

Which left distress as the likely cause. Harry couldn't really blame her for that.

The enclosure that had been erected for Tod was large. Huge, even, at least as large as the eighth year common room and made of tall frames hastily meshed together so effectively that Harry suspected Hagrid must have had it at least partially built for some time now. As though he'd anticipated such an eventuality arising, which, Harry considered, he probably had.

The interior was like a spacious den itself, complete with a bed of blankets, toys spread from wall to wall, and even the odd leaning sapling or fuzzy shrub scattered across the ground. It was like a greenhouse for the spells that Ginny and Ron had placed upon it, closeting the area in lukewarm temperature. Harry had been able to feel that warmth when he'd raised a hand towards the mesh fence in the brief moments he'd approached. Only briefly, however, because the foxlet inside had hissed and spat at he and Pipsqueak aggressively enough that Pips had squealed in panicked yips and for the first time actually nearly thrown herself from Harry's shoulder. He'd retreated after that to watch from afar beside Lavender who similarly held a trembling Kitsune to her chest.

Ron and Ginny were inside the enclosure with Tod. Their foxlet was still twitching and snapping with his Berserker aggression, yet clearly didn't view them as a potential enemy. Quite the opposite, in fact; when he prowled past Ginny it was to butt his fluffy head affectionately into the side of her leg, or he he would wind his way through Ron's legs before slinking away to skirt the perimeter of his new enclosure with teeth bared in a snarl. Ron and Ginny seemed torn as to whether to be horrified by his continued aggression or relieved that at least Tod wasn't aggressive towards them.

Hermione stood with them. Not inside the enclosure, for Tod apparently didn't like that if his growls in her direction were any indication, but outside, talking quietly through the meshing to a distraught Ron who had briefly broken into sniffling and barely suppressed tears some time ago. Harry couldn't blame him for such a response; he had no doubt that he would be just as distraught had Pipsqueak exploded in such a manner. The thought made him squeeze Pips all the tighter, to which the foxlet didn't appear to object in the slightest.

"I 'spected it was going teh happen. Maybe not quite so fast, but I 'spected it nonetheless."

Harry glanced up at Hagrid at his side. He hadn't even noticed his approach, so focused was he upon the enclosure, upon Tod and Ron and Ginny. He felt for them all, really, he did, even if he did feel a touch of the reprimand he knew Hermione was struggling not to voice rise within him. They'd known. Ron and Ginny should have known that such open conflict distressed the foxlets. They'd all read about it in one of their numerous library visits. It was just… perhaps the bonding and Tod's dependence was just poor timing. It probably wouldn't have happened, wouldn't have been so volatile, had they been trapped into caring for a foxlet glider two years ago. Probably.

"You didn't tell us that you knew it was going to happen, Hagrid," Harry rebuked, struggling not to frown up at him. "Some warning would have been nice."

Hagrid's expression became apologetic as he winced. "Yer right, Harry. O' course yer right. I just… yeh wouldn't have been likely teh offer teh care fer them if yeh'd known, would yeh?"

Harry shook his head. Who would honestly offer to look after a potentially dangerous magical creature that expressed a high likelihood of maturing into a rabid monster, let alone be bonded to one? "No, probably not."

"I'm sorry," Hagrid muttered, and he truly did sound remorseful. "I hope yeh can forgive me some day fer not tellin' yeh all. Do yeh regret it, bonding with Pipsqueak there?"

Harry was shaking his head before he'd even really had a chance to think about it. Did he regret being bound to a potentially violent creature who, even no bigger than a small dog, could likely do a whole heap of damage? No, he didn't. Not for a second. Pipsqueak shifted slightly in his arms, humming in affection as though she'd heard his thoughts. Considering her empathy, it was very likely that she did. "No, I don't regret it. After having Pipsqueak, how could I? She's great." It was such an inadequate word for Pips but then no words really seemed adequate.

The smile Hagrid turned upon him, a mixture of persisting apology, gratitude and affection, alleviated any disgruntlement Harry might have felt towards him. He turned silently to watching Tod in his enclosure once more.

They'd missed Care of Magical Creatures – or he and Pipsqueak had, at least. Hagrid had allowed it readily enough considering the situation. They'd missed Transfiguration too, however, though Harry suspected that McGonagall, the still-acting professor of that class, would be as lenient as Hagrid had been. She knew what was going on, knew that Ron and Ginny both would be distressed, and Harry knew she wasn't nearly hard-hearted enough to demand that he and Hermione leave them alone to undergo their period of distress alone. It might be a little unconventional, for unconventional reasons, but… Well, Harry knew that he would have stayed down alongside Tod's new den with his friends even if McGonagall hadn't approved.

The lunch bell had rung by the time Ron finally extracted himself from the enclosure. Hagrid had left Harry's side to ready himself for his next class some time before, so it was only Harry and a silent, solemn Lavender waiting slightly up the hill for them. Hermione had her arm around his shoulder, was muttering soothing words as she rubbed her hand upon the outside of Ron's jacket. He looked pale, red-eyed and audibly sniffled when he paused beside Harry to glance over his shoulder behind him once more. Harry had to marvel just a little as to the response, that he wasn't the only one who had become thoroughly smitten by the foxlets. Ron and Hermione both were just as taken with them. Ron must have been heartbroken.

"Ginny says she's going to stay down here with Tod a little longer," he said with another sniff, swiping a hand beneath his nose. "She hasn't got any more classes for the day anyway, so…"

Harry reached out a hand to pat his awkward commiseration on Ron's shoulder, which his friend acknowledged with a feeble smile. "I'm probably going to head on back down when I've grabbed a bite," he continued. "Maybe bring Gin something down too."

Hermione looked set to congratulate Ron on his consideration for his sister, especially after such an explosive confrontation, so Harry hastily stepped in to waylay her. "Sure thing, Ron. I'll come down with you for a bit if you'd like."

Ron only shook his head, however. "Nah, 's alright. You should probably go to Ancient Runes, yeah? For Pipsqueak, so she can be with Malfoy, right?"

Harry fought the urge to refute his friend's words. Not because they weren't true but because he felt he should be with Ron at such a time rather than seated beside a rigid and largely objectionable Malfoy. No, and objectionable Draco, he reminded himself, and had to mentally shake his head over the strangeness of thinking of him as such. It was such a small thing but seemed so profound. Harry wondered how long the strangeness would persist.

Ron wasn't looking at him anymore, however, had turned back to where Tod was skulking back towards Ginny's side to lean against her leg once more. Ginny lowered herself into a squat, stroking gently at Tod's hackles that even after hours of first becoming a Berserker were still raised. The foxlet looked different, Harry thought, and it wasn't just for the aggression. He actually did appear to have suddenly swelled in size, was definitely distinctly larger than Pipsqueak and Kitsune both, now, and moved with a threatening confidence of step that put Harry in mind of a stalking predator. He wondered how much the active aggression would last for. Luna, their resident yet frustratingly vague expert upon Berserker maturation, had said it could continue for days before he calmed, though he would likely never be truly calm again. That was just what a Berserker was – the territorial, aggressive defenders of the family group. It was just unfortunate that they became as such instinctively when it was so unnecessary.

"How about we do that, then?" Hermione suggested, pushing aside the solemn mood that had fallen upon them all. "We'll go and get some lunch and head back down. I'll come with you if Lavender's alright with that, so Harry can go with Malfoy to Ancient Runes."

Ron shook his head, turning a small, struggling smile towards Hermione. "You don't have to do that, Hermione. I'm alright, really."

"No you're not. And yes, I do."

"You, miss a class?" Ron's smile came slightly easier this time. "No way."

"It's alright," Hermione waved aside more casually than she had ever been missing a class. She leaned around Ron to glance towards Harry. "Harry can take notes for me, can't you Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest before slowly pressing his lips shut with a sigh. "Yeah, okay." Maybe I'll just steal Mal- Draco's notes. Hermione would be horrified if I tried to give her my own.

Hermione beamed at him with more brightness than was perhaps warranted for his reply. Linking her arm through Ron's, she deliberately turned them with only a final brief glance towards Ginny before urging them back towards the castle. Harry fell into step alongside the still-silent Lavender, each of them holding the foxlet's tightly against their chests. Lavender looked as though she would never let Kitsune go, her face so tight and strained from the build-up of anxiety that the scars across her face were stretched to stark whiteness. She lifted her eyes from the top of Kitsune's head as though feeling Harry's attention upon her and couldn't even seem to conjure an attempt of a smile in return to that he offered her.

The Great Hall was loud with the chatter of students as they went about their lunch. The momentary blast of terror from that morning had dwindled with Tod's absence into the casual light-heartedness that was always assumed, even when strained by the aftermath of a near disaster. Hogwarts' students were remarkably resilient like that. The chatter died only briefly when Harry and his friends stepped through the door.

Ron dipped his chin almost bashfully at the attention that turned towards him, though in Harry's eyes there was more grief than embarrassment sketched across his face. He tightened his arm around Hermione and leaned into her further as they made their way towards the Gryffindor table.

Harry moved to follow in their wake, and would have except that Pipsqueak gave a whimpering "yip" in a tone that he knew only too well. He paused in step, closed his eyes briefly and schooled the rising vexation that welled within him; not at Pipsqueak herself but merely at the circumstances that had led to his situation. Why couldn't Malfoy – Draco come and sit at Gryffindor table for once?

"Do we really have to?" Harry muttered, turning to meet Pipsqueak's wide-eyed stare. Her ears were folded back along her head as though she were ashamed of herself, and she even touched a tentative paw to his cheek in such a humanly feeble gesture of apology that Harry couldn't help but discard his frustration. "Alright. It's okay. Don't look so upset."

Pips only uttered another little mew of sorrow as Harry turned back towards Ron's and Hermione's retreating backs, Lavender barely a step behind them. "Hey, guys," he called, just loud enough to catch their attention. They all glanced towards him, and he scratched at the side of his head awkwardly. "Sorry about this but I've got to… I mean, I don't want to but I think I should… Pips is…" He trailed off, gesturing towards the Slytherin table by way of explanation.

Lavender's eyebrows rose in surprise before she gave a wince of sympathy. Hermione looked about to object, but then Ron silenced her with another tightening of his arm around her shoulders and an understanding nod of his head. "'S alright, Harry. Gotta look after Pips, yeah? If she needs you to go and sit with the Slytherins then that's okay, mate."

Harry offered his friend an apologetic smile that felt as feeble as Pipsqueak's mews. It was likely overlooked for the fact that Hermione, appearing to have melted just slightly at Ron's words, stretched up on her toes and pressed a kiss upon his cheek. The tension Ron held in his frame seemed to lessen slightly at that.

Harry had to turn away. It wasn't because he didn't feel happy seeing his friends happy, even after such a situation, but because… he just felt like he had to. It wasn't even because he felt like he was intruding upon their time together but more because he simply felt uncomfortable witnessing it. That, and there was a sort of tightness in his chest whenever he considered them both, and both of them together, that made him feel slightly unwell. He made his way across the room towards the Slytherin table, ignoring the stares to seat himself across from Mal – no, he had to stop doing that – Draco and Zabini.

"… can't help it if I'm better at it then you are. You should appreciate my talents, Draco," Zabini was saying.

Draco snorted, shaking his head. "You do realise it was a fluke, yes?"

"It was not."

"It was. If you can't replicate the transfiguration, it was based entirely on luck. Just accept it, will you, so we can move on from this conversation?"

Zabini appeared to have already done so before Draco had finished speaking, however. His attention had turned towards Harry as he set about filling his plate with lunch, pausing only to offer Pipsqueak a corn on the cob that she immediately set about picking at delightedly. Her delight was most likely because of Draco's proximity as because of her lunch. "Twice in one day, Potter. This truly is a pleasure."

Harry ignored Zabini, not because he was particularly offended but because he simply felt no need to respond. Zabini was obviously simply attempting to get a rise from him. Draco, unfortunately, seemed incapable of not replying. "Do you feel the need to comment on everything, Blaise?" He asked, apparently overlooking the irony of his statement. He spared only a momentary glance towards Harry and Pips. Harry thought he even eyed Pips with slight approval, as though congratulating her table manners. Harry couldn't disagree to the sentiment; she really was quite decent.

"Speak for yourself, Draco," Zabini replied, but otherwise disregarded Draco's interruption to lean across the table towards Harry. Harry glanced up at him only briefly but it was enough to make him uneasy. Zabini looked like a wolf before a tottering lamb.

Harry didn't like to feel like a lamb.

"Really, Potter, if you keep this up the school will start to talk. Saviour of the Wizarding world, coming over to the dark side and all." Zabini clicked his tongue, shaking his head in false solemnity.

Harry paused in the act of cutting his sandwich in half to glance towards him. "Eighth years don't have houses, Zabini."

"So they say," Zabini refuted, smirking. He plucked at his tie, flapping the black and white-striped neckpiece pointedly. "It's supposed to be a symbol of neutrality and all but lets face it, ex-Slytherins stay at Slytherin table, ex-Gryffindors at the Gryffindor table and so on. That's just how it is."

Harry only shrugged – he didn't know Zabini well enough to jump into a debate with him and didn't feel particularly inclined to, certainly not today – but Draco spoke up in his stead. "Well, then I assume Harry will be the one to change that, paving the way as usual. Isn't that right?" Draco turned a raised eyebrow towards Harry almost accusingly, but Harry didn't really care. He found himself instead shifting uncomfortably for the fact that Draco had called him Harry. Would that ever not sound strange?

Zabini evidently heard it to. "What? What's this? Harry now, is it?" His smirk widened.

"Shut up, Zabini," Draco sniffed.

"Oh no, I don't think so." Leaning further across the table, Zabini pinned Harry with another predatory grin. "So, Harry. How's it feel to be an honorary Slytherin, now that the Slytherin prince himself has accepted you as one of his own?"

Harry struggled to ignore Zabini. He wasn't annoyed exactly, but more… discomforted by the entire situation. He didn't get annoyed so much anymore, not really, but it was still awkward to be the focus of such attention. Harry had never been one to take other people's shit, not even when the Dursley's attempted to walk over him, but he just could find the bother to attempt to defend himself at that moment. He simply set about making his way through his lunch.

Not that Zabini was deterred in the slightest, however. He only seemed driven to further prodding by Draco's drawling replies in Harry's stead. Harry would have thought him more capable of letting Zabini's obvious taunts slide, given that he'd been his friend for years, for surely he would have realised that answering Zabini only enticed him into further prodding, but Draco truly did appear to simply enjoy the sound of his own voice.

Zabini's questioning was abruptly interrupted just as he had begun to attempt to extract the location of the Gryffindor common room from Harry for God only knew what reason. "Because I always suspected that it was behind the Fat Lady, even after that incident in third year with the Grim, but –"

"Hello, Harry. I wondered where you'd gotten to. I only noticed you were over here when Ron directed me. He looked a little peaky, doesn't he?"

Harry glanced up at the sound of Luna's voice from where he'd been resolutely avoiding meeting Zabini's gaze. "Oh, hey Luna," he said as she slipped into the seat beside him, much to the blinking surprise of the seventh year now on the other side of her.

Luna offered him a dreamy smile before turning her attention towards Pipsqueak. "Oh, are you done, Pips? Here, I'll take that cob from you, then." Making good her claim, Luna plucked an shorn cob of corn from Pipsqueak's paws to her nonchalant "yip" and placed it with perfectionistic precision in the very centre of the empty plate before herself. She nodded, as though satisfied with herself.

"Loony? Loony Lovegood?" Zabini finally appeared to have drawn his attention from Harry. His smile was still affixed; if anything appeared to have grown. "Well, this really is a pleasure. Draco, you should bond to random little rabid squirrels more often. It draws such interesting fodder to our table."

"Pipsqueak isn't rabid or a squirrel, Blasé," Luna chided, raising her brows mildly. "She's a foxlet gilder."

Zabini opened his mouth to reply before frowning and folding his arms across the table before him. "My name's Blaise, not Blasé, Loony."

"And my name's Luna, not Loony, Blasé," Luna replied in almost the exact same tone as Blaise had. Except that she punctuated her words with a beaming smile that crinkled her eyes and made her seem entirely innocent of any such slight. Harry, biting back a grin, had to admire that, and wondered at how much she was truly pulling his leg. Luna was an oddball, but incredibly intelligent in her own quirky way. She wasn't malicious nor deceptive in the least, but Harry wouldn't have put it past her to had run rings around Zabini.

For himself, Zabini stared at Luna. He stared as though he were seeing her for the first time. Then, in a bark so loud that it turned the heads of most of the Slytherin table, he burst out laughing. "Ha! Fantastic! I like you, Loony." He turned to grin towards Draco, who rolled his eyes and shook his head around a raised glass of water before frowning as Zabini jostled him with an elbow. "Yes, you can definitely bond with more rabid squirrels, Draco. I'm very much enjoying myself, thank you, my friend."

Harry shook his own head, turning his attention back to what remained of his lunch. He'd rather be sitting at Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione, and would definitely be sitting with them at dinner, but at least he had Luna alongside him. Luna, who appeared to have appropriated the bowl of remaining corn cobs and was building a pattern around the shorn cob on the plate before her as Zabini continued to chatter at her. Harry doubted she heard a word he said.

Zabini wasn't all that bad, Harry considered. He was certainly far less objectionable than Draco was, though Draco wasn't being too objectionable at least. For now, it was alright. A bit annoying, but alright. Besides, the humming purr that Pipsqueak muttered into his ear was more than enough to make up for any disgruntlement on his part.

"It's not like it would kill you."

"On the contrary, it very nearly could."

"God, you're such a bloody drama queen. I've done it for you more times than I can count now."

"More times than you could count? Really? In this whole week you've sat at Slytherin table 'more times that you can count'? If so, your numeracy skills are truly appalling."

Harry stared at Draco flatly. It wasn't quite a glare but Draco considered it was certainly very close to being one. When he spoke it was low enough that no one else in the classroom, even the overly attentive Blaise, would have been able to hear him. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Throwing in an insult there like that."

Draco fought the urge to smirk and knew he failed. "It was warranted."

"No it wasn't. You only said it because you know I'm right and don't have a better comeback."

"In what universe exactly would you be right before me?"

Harry deliberately turned his attention towards his parchment, picking up his quill and dipping it in ink. Not that he was listening to their Defence professor, Jones, closely enough to actually write anything of import down, but it was a fairly believable farce. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Trying to distract me from the topic. Turning the conversation away from what we were talking about because you know you're wrong."

Well, he's not wrong there, Draco thought, though of course he would never say as much aloud. To do so would be mortifying, and he would never live it down. Besides, it would likely also quell their argument, which was something that Draco doubted he would ever expressly choose to do.

They had been 'working together' for nearly a week now, a week in which they had both made the firm decision to stop the whole 'ignoring one another in each others presence and simply being together for Pipsqueak's sake'. Instead, they would talk. They would interact. They would work together in class because it would mean that they Worked Together more, and that was something that was supposed to be good for bond-parents and hence for the foxlet glider bound to them.

It hadn't really been working very well. Or, in Draco's particular opinion, it had been working very well.

He and Harry – because it was Harry now, despite still feeling strange even after a week – had been comfortable enough throughout the initial term period. Harry would follow Draco to his extra classes, and Draco would get a reprieve from both he and Pipsqueak when he attended Herbology. Harry rarely spoke unless Draco chose to do so to him first, and even then it was with as much of that 'cordial' attitude as was absolutely possible. It was almost painful to listen to sometimes; people weren't supposed to be so polite with one another and certainly not Harry to Draco.

But he was. The few times that he'd spoken out, had been vaguely objectionable or anything less than consistently lenient, had been so mild that it barely held a candle to the bonfire of their past confrontations. It was infuriating.

Now, though, Draco and Harry spoke more. They spoke more, interacted more, and, more importantly, they argued more. And Draco loved it.

It was a touch of the past, of how things should have been, and was as relieving as a breath of fresh air. No, they didn't refer to one another with the scathing formality of surnames anymore, and they'd yet to have an all-out fight that Draco admitted he wouldn't exactly be averse to partaking in, but it wasn't as sickeningly mellow as it had been before. They argued, and Harry even seemed to become incensed at times. It was those brief displays of irritation, of frustration and maybe even a little anger quickly smothered as though Harry felt he wasn't supposed to feel that way, that Draco lived for.

It was strange. So strange that Draco was baffled when he thought about it. He'd known that he relied upon Harry to instil a sense of normality upon the world, to act as one of the few constants in Draco's life. Harry had been his rival and daresay he claim his enemy for six years, something distinctly other for another, and then a shadowing, largely mute presence for the past few months. Yet Draco relied upon that.

He thought about the situation a lot, actually. Probably too much, just as he would find himself catching a glimpse at Harry sidelong, watching as he would flick his fringe out of his eyes – why didn't he just cut the thing if it was so annoying? – or when he picked and fiddled with the golden chain that tied him to Pipsqueak – Draco was very glad it was Harry and not him who wore it – or when he turned his full attention upon the foxlet and beamed that sickly sweet smile down upon her. It reminded Draco of how people looked at their babies.

It was sickening, and Draco couldn't help but stare. Just as he couldn't help but argue and kick up a fuss whenever Harry made a suggestion. It was simply because he had to. He didn't have a choice in the matter, and Blaise smirking knowingly at his other side didn't deter him from doing so in the slightest. Besides, in this case Draco felt himself entirely warranted in not agreeing with Harry. Not that he wasn't always warranted but this time especially. Sit at the Gryffindor table? Really? Because he didn't get enough suspicious sidelong glances already?

"You want to discuss the situation again?" Draco asked, voice low to similarly avoid disrupting their class. "Fine. We'll discuss it. And I'll tell you that it would be utterly ridiculous for me to come to the Gryffindor table because the distress that would radiate from every surrounding Gryffindor would more than upset Pipsqueak. It would be pointless for me to come at all."

Harry snorted softly, rolling his eyes in a display of frustration that Draco latched onto greedily because this was the Harry he was familiar with. The one who would get frustrated and turn a frown upon him, even if it wasn't quite as heated as it used to be. There had been little enough of that Harry Potter since the war. Not that Draco missed him or anything but… consistency and all. Familiarity. He needed that. "No one would give a rat's arse if you sat at the Gryffindor table."

"Of course they would. They're Gryffindor's, I'm a Slytherin –"

"An ex-Slytherin."

"- and prejudices are usually next to impossible to shake," Draco finished, ignoring Harry's interruption. He didn't point out what they likely both knew; that it was more because he was an ex-Death Eater and son of a now-imprisoned Death Eater that he still got those glances. "I won't put up with that when I don't have to."

Harry frowned at him, and Draco noticed that he seemed to have entirely forgotten the quill in his hand. It was dripping an inky spot onto his parchment in a frankly distressing manner that Draco also chose to ignore. "Oh, so I should have to put up with coming to your table but you shouldn't have to come to mine?"

Draco shrugged. "You're the one who's choosing to come to my table."

"We said we'd work together. For Pips." Seemingly unconsciously, Harry's hand rose to the foxlet who was draped over his shoulder. Not around his neck anymore, which Draco couldn't help but find a little saddening for some foolish reason. In the last week, Pipsqueak had apparently grown just a little too big to comfortably wrap herself around Harry's throat. "You promised."

"I made no such promise."

"Actually, you did," Blaise chimed in from Draco's other side, leaning around him to turn his smirk more easily between Draco and Harry. "I distinctly remember you saying you would work with Harry on this one. It was that lunch time when Harry started sitting at Slytherin table for the first time. Well, the second time, really, but I'm not sure if I count breakfast."

Draco turned a scowl upon his friend. Blaise was enjoying Draco's situation just a little too much, even more than Draco was himself, which was intolerable. Not to mention the fact that he appeared to have, with remarkable speed, opened his arms to offer Harry a welcoming friendship; he seemed to have accepted that Draco and Harry were on something of the same team, rather than that Harry simply followed him around everywhere. He'd similarly taken to using Harry's first name. It was as though an annoyingly buzzing fly that Blaise had previously overlooked had suddenly turned into a fairy that him granted three wishes. To Blaise, Harry had abruptly become a person of interest.

It annoyed Draco to now end, and not just because when he and Harry argued Blaise seemed to delight in taking Harry's side just to be an arse. "I made no such promise," he repeated. "I said I would try. There's a difference in insinuating merely an attempt."

"I think it's probably more that the insinuation was leaning towards enforcing the promise actually, Draco. That's how I heard it."

Draco his scowl in Harry's direction, drawing his gaze beyond to where Lovegood was sitting on his other side. For whatever reason, Lovegood appeared to have forsaken her usual seat alongside Weaslette and had taken up that next to Harry. Weaslette herself, as far as Draco could make out, appeared to be attempting to consolidate her frankly appalling relationship with her brother in the hopes of working together to help their Berserk foxlet. Although, admittedly, said foxlet appeared to have calmed down a little over the past days; he no longer seemed inclined to launch himself at the meshing of his cage whenever anyone came within sight of him. At least he didn't as far as Draco could tell; he'd only been down to see him twice, and only by accident.

By accident. Of course it was.

What the hell Lovegood thought she had to do with anything, and why she believed she had a right to partake in their conversation was a mystery to Draco. A very frustrating and irrational mystery. He'd always found the girl strange. She'd always been too vague, too flighty, her head in the clouds most of the time. She took Divination, for Merlin's sake, and though it appeared to be a distinctly different type of precognitive practices than Trelawney taught it was still Divination. Lovegood was definitely more than a little bit insane.

But, more importantly, she was opposed to him in her argumentative stance. Draco glared at her. "No one asked for your opinion, Lovegood."

"Hey, hey, now that's a little unfair," Blaise muttered, nudging Draco slightly in reprimand. "Show a little consideration, Draco."

"Why do you always take Lovegood's side in these sort of situations?" Draco sighed, turning his frown towards his friend. Blaise and Lovegood were more often than not alongside he and Harry for whatever ungodly reason possessed them and Blaise appeared to have taken a liking to Lovegood. Draco could only be thankful that when Lovegood followed them she seemed to often be in exchange for Weasley and Granger. Draco heartily thanked Merlin for that fact. He didn't know if he could handle all three of them.

Blaise shrugged. "Loony has insight. What can I say?"

"Thank you, Blasé."

"You're most welcome."

"Alright, I've about had enough of this. Potter, Malfoy, Zabini and Lovegood, finish up with the talking now. I've let it go on for long enough."

As one, all four of them glanced up towards Professor Jones at the front of the room. Their new Defence professor was a kind enough woman; dark-haired and rosy cheeked, she resembled her niece, eighth year Megan Jones, almost uncannily closely. Draco recalled every time he saw her that she'd been a member of the Order of the Phoenix in the war. In the aftermath she'd assumed the post as Defence professor with little ceremony.

She was good at it, too, Draco had to admit. Real life experience certainly seemed to make a difference. More than that, she lacked any sort of looming intimidation, which was probably a benefit to most in their class who were still a little twitchy and nervous about practicing offensive spells against one another in deference to memory of the war. Unfortunately, she also had a keen ear. On more than one occasion, Draco and Harry's muttered arguments were interrupted by her chiding.

Jones raised her eyebrows as her attention fell upon each of them briefly in turn. It wasn't a scolding gaze by any means but more of a reminder, and there was even a hint of amusement evidenced. As Draco deliberately moved to pick up his quill once more, she gave a small nod of her head before turning back to writing on the blackboard at the front of the room. Their single periods were always a theory lesson, but Draco didn't mind so much. He set about instead ignoring Blaise's nudges for attention, fighting the urge to smirk at Harry's frown that turned upon him several times throughout the class, and copied the notes stuiously.

When the bell sounded to release them from class, Draco made his motions slow and deliberate. He was a reason for that; Harry would always wait for him because Pipsqueak often requested it, whereas Granger would be likely to rush out of the classroom with Weasley in tow, either to hasten to their next class with the irrational fear of being late or to rush down towards the foxlet's enclosure beside the gamekeeper's hut to ensure they had as much time with the Berserker as possible. If Draco took his time, he could usually avoid having to endure their company entirely.

Predictably, Granger vanished almost immediately, both Weasleys at her side and with only a pause to acknowledge Harry's long-suffering sigh and wave urging them onwards. Blaise and Lovegood too drifted towards the doorway, though Draco saw them pause to chat to one another just outside the classroom. The rest of the class filed out in their own time, and even Jones had disappeared into her back room by the time Draco rose to his feet and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Draco, hold on a second."

Glancing up from where he was adjusting his bag to sit with perfect comfort, Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry's tone. "I'm not going to discuss the dining table situation right now, just so you know."

"Good thing I wasn't going to bring it up again, then," Harry replied, though Draco heard the unspoken yet nonetheless. Instead, he reached up to Pipsqueak perched on his shoulder, who flowed like pooling water into his arms as though by unspoken request. Draco had to begrudgingly admire that; they seemed to communicate by some other hidden and non-verbal means that Draco couldn't detect. And yes, in spite of his best intentions, he might have felt just a little envious. Of Harry for Pipsqueak, of course, not the other way around. Only a little. It would be nice to have someone to immediately obey his orders without protest. "I want you to try something else."

"Why do I get the impression I'm not going to like this?" Draco asked, folding his arms across his chest to hide his discomfort.

Harry only shrugged. Then, in a slow, deliberate gesture, he raised Pipsqueak in his arms and held her out towards Draco. "Hold her."

Draco stared at the foxlet, meeting the wide, black-eyed gaze that blinked up at him with something that he could have sworn was hopefulness. She was indeed a bigger then she'd been a week ago. Draco hadn't noticed so much until she hung full-length before him but she was almost as long as his torso now. Perhaps a little longer for the black tips of her three tails that dangled beneath her, wagging and swirling around one another like those of an excited dog. Her front paws twitched slightly as though they were reaching for Draco, and the longer he stared at her the more enthusiastic she seemed to become. Her enormous ears began to swivel and her mouth opened just a little so that it appeared she was smiling up at him.

Draco stared at Pipsqueak. Then he glanced back up to Harry. Then back to Pipsqueak and back again. "No."

"Draco –"

"No, I'm not holding her."

"Don't be such a pussy, Draco."

Draco spluttered. "A pussy?"

Harry nodded, frowning slightly in an expression of stubbornness that was surprisingly devoid of anger. "You're too scared to hold her."

"I am not!"

"Then hold her."

"I don't want to. There's nothing wrong with not wanting to get fur and shit all over my fingers. And she's dirty. I don't want to touch her. I don't have to touch her."

Harry's frown deepened and just a touch of irritation flared within them. Draco barely noticed, distracted as he was by Pipsqueak and the possibility looming over him. "First of all, she doesn't shed so you won't get hair all over you. Secondly, she has a shower with me every day so she's not dirty."

Draco snapped his stare up to meet Harry's. "She showers with you? What the hell, Potter?"

"Thirdly," Harry continued, ignoring him. "I don't give a shit if you don't want to touch her, because you're going to. You've had your way enough bloody times over these past few weeks. I'm putting my foot down for this." Yes, there was definitely irritation rising in Harry's voice, perhaps even a touch of anger. He really did seem to be pissed off. "And fourthly, yes, actually, you do have to hold her. Because she's your bond-kid and it's your responsibility to help look after her."

Draco felt himself shrinking from the wriggling foxlet and the now-glaring Harry and had to physically stop himself from doing so. His shoulders felt achingly tight with the effort to withhold from hunching them. "It's not my responsibility. It doesn't matter if –"

"Yes, it does," Harry interrupted, and his voice was almost a snap. He definitely sounded angry now. Actually angry, in a way that Draco hadn't seen before. At least not this year, anyway. "You know she cries when you're too far away sometimes? Like she actually misses your sorry arse?"

Draco blinked. No, he hadn't known that. "I –"

"Apparently it can soothe their anxiety by something like forty per cent by having the combined contact of both their bond-parents. Yeah, I learned that last week from the book I ordered in the mail. It actually has a whole heap of interesting facts about foxlet gliders in it." Harry's voice had become scathing now.

"That might be, but –"

"And if you for some stupid bloody reason choose to push her away or disappear or whatever, the likelihood of her going Berserk increases by fifty per cent. Fifty per cent, Malfoy! You keep this up and you double the chances she goes Berserk!"

Draco felt his mouth hang open and he had to make a physical effort to snap it shut. Oh. Oh, so that's… right. Harry was pissed off because of that. Because apparently Draco's reluctance was, in a way, endangering Pipsqueak. It angered him enough – or perhaps worried him enough – that Harry had actually snapped out of his persistent apathy for just about everything besides Pipsqueak and gotten angry. At Draco.

Draco liked arguing. He liked arguing with Harry. He had thought he'd been hanging out for a good, solid fight, an exchange of verbal blows and maybe even spells. But now… it hadn't even really been a real fight, more simply Harry getting actually angry and raising his voice. Surprisingly, Draco found that no, in fact, he did not like an angry Harry as much as he had anticipated. He wasn't as tall as Draco, not quite, but when angry he seemed to loom like a shadow over him. His eyes sparked and his glare could likely kill small children should he turn it upon them. Even his stance appeared strong and stubborn, wide and grounded, as though he were positioning himself against an onrushing river and would absolutely refuse to budge.

Intimidating? Yes, perhaps it was just a little bit. Draco had never been intimidated by Harry Potter before, but now… More than that, he had to admit that for some unknown reason, the fact that Harry had called him Malfoy stung. Just a little but noticeably enough. Draco didn't like it at all.

Then there was Pipsqueak. The foxlet had snapped her jaws closed so that her smile appeared to vanish and had tilted her head backwards to peer up at Harry. Even her wriggling had stopped, her ears drooping slightly. Draco didn't know for sure but she looked… he thought she looked sort of upset.

He wondered why that bothered him so much, too.

Swallowing thickly, Draco cleared his throat and attempted civility. "I'm not… comfortable . With animals."

"No shit," Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. It was as though all of his restraint, the irritation and frustration that he had held at bay for the entire of term, had burst through the floodgates. "I would never have picked that of you."

"No, I mean…" Draco swallowed once more. Merlin, he wished he could just get angry. It was so much easier to face an angry Potter with his own equal level of aggression. Although, when Draco thought about it, he was as often enjoying himself as he was truly angry when he and Harry fought. There was something to be said for that. "I mean I wouldn't know what to do with it. Her. I wouldn't know –"

He was cut off as Harry stepped forwards. As he stepped forwards very close, pushing Draco into the desk behind him, and thrust Pipsqueak out towards him. Draco didn't mean to but his hands rose automatically to catch her. Not that he really needed to, for Pipsqueak latched her little paws onto the front of his robes as though they were fingers and, with a slightly startled "yip!" clung onto him in return. It was startled, though such was rapidly exchanged for delight if the smile she turned up at him and her sudden, bodily wriggling was any indication.

Draco stared down at her. He felt the weight of her in his hands, less than he had expected given her size, which he now suspected to be mostly attributed to her fluffiness. He could feel the softness of her fur – truly, it was more like duck down than fur – and her warmth seeping into his fingers. He was held by her wide gaze and couldn't bring himself to shake his attention loose. It was almost as though he was captivated by her attention and surprisingly, unexpectedly, Draco felt something almost like… it couldn't be but it was almost like… comfort? Comfortable?

"See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Draco struggled to raise his gaze from Pipsqueak. Harry still looked slightly irritated, but appeared to be growing more and more self-satisfied by the second. "Um…" Draco said, a sound that, even when he knew he couldn't have uttered anything else, he was mortified at producing.

Harry only nodded his head as though accepting an intelligible reply. "Come on, then, Draco. We should get to Charms before we're late." Without another word he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Draco couldn't help but follow, and not for any particular inclination of his own. He couldn't help it because Harry was still tied to Pipsqueak with the bracelet-and-collar device, and Pipsqueak seemed determined not to release her grasp upon Draco's robes. It was either follow or have himself dragged which, given how humiliating the situation was already, Draco could certainly not abide.

Besides, he didn't particularly feel inclined to simply drop Pipsqueak from where she clung. He wasn't that heartless.

So, ignoring the smirk that Blaise gave him when he followed Harry out of the classroom and the nod of approval from Lovegood, Draco followed in Harry's wake towards Charms. The weight of Pipsqueak in his arms seemed to become oddly lighter with each step.

A/N: Thank you to the lovely people who have already left a review. If you get a chance, dear reader, please take a second to let me know your thoughts: whether you liked the chapter/story, what you thought of it, if there's something you think you'd like to ask or something to improve upon. As always, stories are a work in progress, so I'd really appreciate the feedback. Thank you and thank you for reading!