Chapter 9: Camaraderie

Social interactions between foxlet gliders usually primarily involve familial interactions. In most cases, all members of a community will be related in some manner, however distantly. This lessens the degree of antagonism between the individuals, as is often a requisite for when juveniles mature into a Berserker. Though such Berserkers do continue to exhibit aggression towards their kin, it is rarely of a fatalistic variety.

Within these groups, however, exclusive friendships will often arise between juveniles or Sedate adults. Commonly, this occurs between those with minimal genetic similarity, as the contrasting characteristics lend themselves to a broader range of shared skills. In particular situations, an empathetic link may arise from such relationships. Such a link will often develop after a catalysing event, which drives the fear, protectiveness, or intensified consideration of one party or the other to an enhanced degree.

Tod had gotten big. Very big, and in a remarkably short amount of time. According to the books, to what Harry could recall, it was apparently a result of reaching his 'mental maturity' as a Berserker, that he would grow to be distinctly larger than a Sedate foxlet, Harry knew that, but he was still surprised to see that Tod had so quickly grown to the size of an English Setter and was still growing at a rapid rate. He was already nearly double Pipsqueak and Kitsune's size, in muscle as much as sheer height.

As Harry watched, Ron shuffled forwards in his seat on the ground and held out what looked to be a strip of bacon to the foxlet. Tod, snuffling around on the floor of his den with ears curved forwards and turning slightly like little satellite dishes, immediately caught the scent of it and spun towards Ron. With leaps and bounds, he crossed the distance between them and snatched the morsel from Ron's fingers with a sharp snap of his jaws. Harry admired that Ron didn't so much as flinch at the motion; he'd seen how aggressive Tod could get and personally wouldn't have liked to get so close to his fingers. But then, Tod never so much as curled his lip in a snarl at Ron or Ginny, even if a second later he would turn to hiss and spit at just about anyone else.

Ginny, seated at Ron's side, reached a hand out and scratched behind Tod's ear in a practiced gesture. It was as though she knew that he would croon and lean into her fingers and collapse comfortably onto the ground before her which, Harry reasoned, she probably did. It was just like how Harry knew the places that Pips most liked to be scratched.

"If they try and stuff anymore toys into that den then there won't be anywhere for either of them to fit."

Drawing his gaze from Ron and Ginny – they were talking quietly to one another now, in a companionable manner that practically spat in the face of their fight of weeks before – and glanced towards Hermione. She was sitting beside him, shoulders hunched in her jacket and gloved fingers tugging at the edge of her beanie. Her breath plumed whitely before her face and she gave a visible tremble as a gust of chilling wind blew past them. Winter had well and truly set its teeth into Hogwarts, snow already blanketing the undulating grounds and painting the struggling grasses white. Hermione had conjured a waterproof picnic rug for them to sit upon a little way up the hill to watch their two friends as they spent what had become their regular hours in Tod's den.

Harry gave her a small smile, shaking his head as he turned back towards Ron and Ginny. "Well, at least he won't be bored."

"How could he be bored? I wouldn't be bored in there with the amount of enrichment they've spread everywhere. Honestly, is there a need for so many dangling ropes from the roof?"

"You wouldn't be bored? Hermione, there's not a single book in that den."

Hermione gave a small puff of laughter. "Except for when Ginny brings her textbooks in."

"Except then, yeah."

"Don't give her or Ron any ideas. If you mention you read somewhere that foxlet gliders appreciated the presence of books then they'd find a way to move the entire school library down here."

"I've don't doubt it," Harry agreed. It was no secret that, despite the fact that Tod had gone Berserk, that he wouldn't tolerate the approach of anyone but Ron and Ginny closer than twenty paces without growling and snapping at them, they both still obviously doted upon him. "You know Ginny's actually taken to sleeping down here on Saturday nights?"

Hermione blinked, glancing towards Harry with eyebrows raised. "No, I didn't know that."

"Well, she does."

"She told you?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. But even before that, Neville said he saw her one time when he was coming back from the greenhouse when he was pruning the midnight bloomers a couple of weeks ago."

Hermione frowned. "That can't be healthy for her."

"It's warm in there with the charms they've got installed."

"Yes, but still."

"Can you blame her?" Harry asked, folding his arms across his chest. It really was getting cold outside, especially given the fact that he and Hermione had both been sitting immobile for over an hour already. An hour of just sitting, watching and waiting for Ron and Ginny to spend some mutual time with Tod. It was their way now; they would alternate with one spending an hour or so with him, them both spending just as long in the enclosure with the foxlet together, and then the other taking over the watch. With the exception of classes – of which Ginny in particular had skipped several in favour of spending more time with Tod, much to Hermione's disapproval – they spent most of their time down at the den beside Hagrid's cabin these days. They didn't need to, for since Tod's maturity they hardly needed to be with him anywhere near as much as they once had. Tod loved their company but he evidently didn't need it as much as the two other foxlet's did. It was a product of the maturation process, of his growth towards independence.

Hermione shook her head once more. "No, I don't suppose I can. I'd want to spend as much time down in the den with Kitsune if she was in Tod's place. It just feels wrong to be away from her." She shivered slightly, casting a glance over her shoulder towards the castle that squatted silently and sedately behind them, as though she could see through the walls to where Lavender and their foxlet were still most likely curled before the eighth year common room fire.

Harry hummed in agreement. He was of a like mind in that regard too. It had barely been more than an hour since he'd left Pipsqueak with Draco, since he'd handed over the bracelet and strapped it onto Draco's wrist in an exchange that they were undertaking more and more often of late. Harry found it less distressing for Pips if she didn't accompany him down to see Tod with Ron and Ginny. Even at twenty paces she grew uncomfortable, and Tod seemed to sense her proximity. According to the books, that aversion to other foxlet gliders would lessen over the coming months as Tod settled into his matured state, but for now he was more likely to go for Pipsqueak's throat than exchange a polite word. Or sniff, whatever gliders did to communicate with each other.

It felt uncomfortable being away from Pipsqueak. It was almost painful in some ways. Harry too had found himself glancing over his shoulder towards the school a little longingly on multiple occasions with the urge to rise to his feet and go in search of his little foxlet. He didn't like having her out of his sight, especially after so long of her constant companionship, around his neck when she was small enough and upon his shoulder after that. She was getting a little too big for even that now, but still. It felt like he was missing a limb, just as Draco had said so many weeks ago to McGonagall when he had been contemplating self-expulsion simply to stay with Pipsqueak. He would have done it, too, in a heartbeat. Of course he would. Pips was one of the most important things to him in the world at the moment. She was certainly more important than school.

Harry even felt himself slightly jealous of Draco, despite the fact that he had been the one to encourage him to take her directly from his care. It had been both a frustrating and amusing experience to witness Draco cradling Pipsqueak in his arms for the first time. He'd looked so awkward and just short of terrified.

"It does feel kind of weird not having her around," Harry murmured, drawing his gaze back towards Ron and Ginny. Tod had draped himself momentarily across Ron's lap, only to leap up moments later to spring at something unseeable that could have simply been the shadow of a bird passing overhead. Tod had always been excitable. He seemed only more so now that he'd matured "I kind of miss Pipsqueak when she's with Draco."

"When she's just with Draco," Hermione emphasised. She barely stumbled over using his name anymore, something that she very definitely held over Ron.

Harry spared her a glance. "Hm?"

"When she's just with Draco," she repeated. "Which isn't all that often. You two tend to spend a lot of time together these days, and Draco's only actually taken Pipsqueak from you fully seven times now."

"Only seven?" Harry blinked. It seemed like it was more than that.

Hermione nodded. "I've been counting. It's the only times I've actually seen you away from Draco in the past few months."

Harry cringed guiltily. Had he really been neglecting his friends so much? "Sorry about that. I don't mean to –"

Hermione waved aside his apology with a flap of her hand. She smiled gently when she replied. "I don't have a problem with it, Harry. And, even if he might still object to it, neither does Ron. It was a little strange at first, with Draco and Blaise spending so much time with us, even if they didn't really talk to us, but I've gotten used to it. We both have. And –" She paused abruptly and bit her lip.

Harry cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Peering up at him a little uncertainly, Hermione shrugged. "Nothing, it's just…"

"What?"

"I'm just happy, I guess."

Harry frowned, confused. "Happy about…?"

"You. You seem happier. More yourself, I guess."

Staring at his friend in continued confusion, Harry felt his frown deepen slightly. "What do you mean?"

Sighing, Hermione shook her head. "Only that you were different after the war. We all were – different, I mean – and I know you knew that but I don't think you realised you'd changed too."

Opening his mouth to reply, Harry paused before slowly closing it. He drew his gaze from where it met Hermione's, frowning down at his gloved hands. He'd changed? Had he really? More than that, it had been a noticeable change? He'd seen it in Hermione – she had been more subdued at first before seeming to struggle to resettle herself – and in Ron, who'd been quieter too, more brooding, with a constant, listless pessimism enduring within him for a significant portion of their summer break.

Ginny too had been a little different, almost flighty in her bursts of loudness and then sudden static silences, as though she couldn't seem to decide if she was happy or sad or angry in any one moment. The rest of the Weasleys too, and Harry's old friends from Hogwarts. All of them had changed in different ways, subtle or vast. Even Luna appeared to have altered just a little, if not in so much the same way as everyone else; she seemed to have become more determined, almost more emphatic with her words and opinions, which contrasted so drastically with her otherwise vague, carefree attitude that Harry couldn't help but notice.

In fact, one of the few people who appeared almost unchanged was Draco. When Harry had encountered him in the war, he'd seemed like an almost different person entirely. Harry couldn't blame him for that, had expected it and even anticipated the continuation of such a change when they returned to school and he'd noticed Draco amongst their ranks. At first, his suspicions had seemed correct; that first night Draco had appeared as subdued and retrospective as the rest of Hogwarts' students.

That had rapidly changed. It was true that Draco no longer burst out in shouts of insult or challenge, that he no longer seemed to so actively seek confrontation. But in most other ways he was exactly the same: his snarky, sarcastic remarks, the apparent ease of his studiousness, the tone of his voice when he spoke to Harry that reflected the few times they'd actually spoken without breaking into a fight. All of it, down to the way he held himself, tall and with apparent confidence, the cut of his robes pristine as ever, the perfect styling of his hair and his hooded regard of everyone around him as though they were just a little too far beneath his notice.

And Harry actually liked it. He'd strained to search for the similar, for the familiar, for anything that remained unchanged by the war in both Hogwarts itself and its students and professors. Draco was one of those few that he could rely upon to be unchanged. Not that Harry saw him in exactly the same way, for they certainly treated one another a little differently, but what he learned only seemed to heighten his understanding of Draco Malfoy.

He was a git. He was a bastard. He thought himself above just about everyone around him, with the inclusion of Blaise Zabini who appeared to be the only one of his real friends who had returned to Hogwarts for eighth year. He seemed incapable of speaking to Harry without at least half-heartedly attempting an argument.

But alongside that, Harry learned more of Draco. More than he had ever wanted to learn, let alone expected to. Draco was more bark than bite, and didn't seem particularly inclined to use his wand at all when words could suffice. He seemed to prefer the company of others to solitude to such a degree that, even when Harry wasn't directly in his company, he hardly ever seemed alone. That, and he was just a little bit neurotically egotistical, possessing something of a suspicion that his back was painted with a target. Harry couldn't count the number of times he'd seen Draco glance suspiciously over his shoulder, as though expecting someone to be watching him from behind. It was downright relentless.

He was finicky, pedantic, disliked getting his hands dirty and even carried a handkerchief around with him for the express purpose of cleaning the nib of his quill when it got too clotted. And yet for some unknown reason, much to his evident disgruntlement, Draco seemed fond of Pipsqueak. He didn't even put up a fight anymore when Harry suggested Pips sit in his lap, even if he did regard Harry flatly, almost accusingly, as though he were at fault for suggesting that he have to touch the foxlet at all. Even so, Harry had seen him idly petting Pipsqueak as he concentrated upon a book settled open before him. It looked entirely natural, even if it had been a little slow in coming.

The more time Harry spent with Draco, the more he learned. He wasn't looking to learn but just seemed to pick up little things anyway. Each aspect seemed to fit his character though on a deeper level than Harry had suspected Draco ever capable of possessing. It was comforting in its own way, that though his understanding of Draco might have changed, the person who his past-rival had once been was, by and large, much the same.

Unlike Harry himself, apparently. How had he even changed? He hadn't noticed. "Sorry about that," he muttered to Hermione.

Hermione frowned. "What are you apologising for?"

Harry shrugged. "That I've changed, I guess."

"You shouldn't apologise for that, Harry. We all have. It's not like any of us can help it."

"Still, I shouldn't be – I don't know, abandoning you guys so much. I don't mean to. It's just with Pips and all…"

Hermione nodded, offering a sympathetic smile. "I know. And it's alright. Really. I understand that it must be hard for you, with Ron and me being together and all. We both really appreciate how good you're being about it all, Harry."

Harry peered up at his friend warily. He wasn't quite sure what to make of her words, not to mention the fact that talking about them being together, even acknowledged as it had been for months, still made him slightly uncomfortable. Not that they were together, but that it was they who were together. Harry's two best friends, the first friends he'd ever had and who had become more like a brother and sister to him. It made him feel strange, uncomfortable, and just a little lonely.

"It's… fine? I guess?" He offered awkwardly.

Hermione's smile only widened and Harry saw that she understood from where his awkwardness had arisen. "Thanks, Harry. Really." Then she seemed to deliberately place the topic aside, drawing her gaze back down the hill towards Ron, Ginny and Tod. "But really, I can understand you wanting to spend so much time with Pipsqueak, even if it does mean you have to be around Draco more. I feel the same with Kitsune and Lavender, to be honest."

Harry nodded, then frowned thoughtfully. "I never really understood that, though."

"What?"

"You and Lavender. Why it was her that Kitsune chose as her second bond-parent. I thought maybe it might have been because of, you know, Ron and everything, but you don't seem to… I mean, neither you or Lavender seem to…" He trailed off, hunching his shoulders slightly as his awkwardness returned for an entirely different reason. "Sorry."

Hermione smiled, shrugging off the apology. "It's alright. I guess it's natural to wonder." Then she took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. "I think it was me who drove Kitsune to bonding with Lavender. Not because of Ron, or our past – we were never close, and any antagonism we shared just seemed to become slightly less favourable regard for one another after she broke up with Ron. Or at least, that was how it was in the few months before the holidays. I guess if I was to put a finger on the reason, it would be because I felt guilty." She paused, then nodded to herself. "Yes, I think it was probably my guilt that drove the bond."

"Guilty?" Harry turned fully towards Hermione once more, blinking in confusion. "Why would you feel guilty?"

Hermione shifted slightly in her seat, dropping her gaze to her lap. "I guess because I never really liked her, but then after what happened with her and Fenrir Greyback…" She shook her head. "We saw it happen. All of it, from him attacking her and then afterwards when she was just lying there. And we had to just leave her, not even knowing if she was dead or alive."

"That wasn't your fault, Hermione," Harry rationalised, reaching a hand towards her shoulder and squeezing gently. "It wasn't any of our faults."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "But I still feel almost as though – I don't know, that maybe I didn't act so fast because… because I didn't…"

"Because you didn't what?"

"Because I didn't like her," Hermione finished, her voice warbling slightly. Harry thought he saw a touch of tears in her eyes but she blinked them away furiously before he could be sure. "I feel like maybe we only helped her so late because I didn't want to do it any faster –"

"Stop," Harry interrupted her. The sharpness of his voice caused his friend to flinch slightly, so he eased his hand from her shoulder to hug her in a half-embrace instead. "That wasn't your fault, Hermione. Not even a little bit. You did as much as you could do and more. In fact, Lavender probably owes her life as much to you as anyone. You can't take the blame for everything that happened to everyone in the war."

Hermione sniffed slightly, wiping her nose with a gloved hand. When she turned to peer up at Harry, her eyes were still slightly glassy but she no longer appeared on the verge of crying. "You too, Harry."

"Hm?"

"You too. You can't take the blame for everything either, you know." Hermione's arm wrapped around Harry's waist to hug him in return. "You saved the world, you know that? And I know you feel guilty too, but you couldn't have done any more. Just as you said, none of us could."

Harry meet Hermione's eyes for a moment longer before he had to draw his own away. He couldn't help himself; there was such earnestness, such compassion in radiating from her that it made him feel as guilty as Hermione was herself professing she was. Still, he couldn't help but express his gratitude, even if his attention was focused upon Tod's den once more. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Any time, Harry."

They sat in silence for a time, the warmth of shared body heat helping to stave off the chill. Long enough for Harry to stare at Ron and Ginny and deduce that they would make the most of the weekend and weren't going to leave Tod any time soon. It wouldn't be the first time he'd left his friend in the den and not seen him until dinnertime. "You know, I think I might head on back inside."

At his side, Hermione nodded her agreement. "I think you might have the right idea."

"They're not going to finish up any time soon."

"And it's freezing."

"And I have to rescue Pips from Draco."

Hermione flashed Harry a grin, dissolving the last of their dark moods. "And just who are you rescuing her for, exactly? Draco, Pipsqueak or you?"

Harry grinned, heaving himself to his feet and offering a hand to Hermione to pull her up after him. "All three, I guess."

They paused a moment to call farewell to Ron and Ginny, Ron of whom offered a slightly sheepish apology that both Harry and Hermione brushed aside. It wouldn't make the slightest difference anyway; Ron wouldn't leave, regardless of how apologetic he felt. Then Hermione linked her arm through Harry's and they set off back towards the school.

The walk was silent for the most part, broken only by their puffing as they climbed the hill back up to the front entrance. Hermione paused just inside the door to the Entrance Hall, however, and with an exhalation that was more like a sigh than a pant of exertion, scrubbed the back of her hand over her brow before removing her gloves.

"You alright?" Harry asked, feeling a return of the sombre mood in her expression.

Hermione attempted to offer him smile that fell a little short. "Yeah, just… it's coming up to Christmas. I guess I'm just worried."

Harry nodded his understanding. Hermione still had her plans to go to Australia in place and she had been growing more and more nervous in the weeks leading up to their holidays. "It'll be alright, Hermione. You know that right."

Hermione's brow crinkled for a moment before she heaved another sigh and nodded. "Yeah, I know. It – it will be. They'll be fine. I'll – I'm sure I'll be able to restore Mum and Dad's memories to them."

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder once more, squeezing her in a slight jostle. "If anyone could it would be you. You're not universally acknowledged as being the brightest witch of your age for no reason."

Hermione smiled something bordering on genuine at his words. "I'm pretty sure you and Ron are the only ones who call me that these days."

"Not the only ones thinking it, though."

Her smile widened. "Thanks, Harry."

"No problem."

"I'm just…"

Harry, his arm dropping and already taking a step towards the stairwell that would lead towards the eighth year tower, paused and glanced back towards Hermione. "What? What's wrong?"

For the third time in as many minutes, Hermione heaved a sigh. "I guess I'm a little worried about going from the perspective of this end, too."

"Meaning?"

"Kitsune."

Harry understood immediately. Hermione would be gone for at least a week and it wasn't like she could bring Kitsune with her when she went abroad. Which meant that Lavender would be left with her, to care for her by herself. That in itself wasn't so bad, for Kitsune was hardly a handful to manage, but there was the little problem of maturity. Or of potential maturity.

Harry had considered the same thing himself on numerous occasions. He'd said he was going to accompany Hermione, but that was before Pipsqueak and the bond, before they'd seen the evidence of what could happen if the foxlets were distressed or left alone. Granted, that wasn't what had urged Tod into becoming a Berserker, by the result was still the same. It made Harry sick to consider the possibility of Pipsqueak becoming like that. It was a natural state, he knew, that in the wild foxlet gliders had indeed matured into Berserkers with the same process as those into Sedates, but he didn't have to like it. He didn't have to like the thought of Pips becoming like that.

Harry knew he should go with Hermione. He'd promised. But he also knew that he really, really didn't want to leave Pipsqueak. Not even with Draco being a little less of an aversive git.

"I get it," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. He'd meant to talk to Hermione about the situation before now, what with the holidays were barely days away, but the time had never seemed right. No, Harry had been avoiding it, he knew. Foolishly, sheepishly, but very definitely avoiding it. "I'm the same."

Hermione peered up at him with an unreadable expression for a moment before offering Harry a small smile. "You're not coming, you know."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"You. You're not coming with me. You've got to stay at Hogwarts with Pipsqueak. I'm sure it would be better for the both of you."

Harry stared at Hermione. He stared and tried to suppress the flood of relief that welled within him, that he didn't have to bring up the conversation, didn't have to be the one to make the suggestion, to ask the question. Hermione had given him permission, which might sound pathetic to anyone else but instead only caused Harry to sag slightly at the offer. Only to subsequently feel guilty, because what kind of a friend was he that he wouldn't come with Hermione to see her parents?

"Hermione," he began.

"Harry," she cut him off, her voice suddenly stern. The regret and sorrow that had been touching her face before had lifted to be replaced by her usual stubbornness. Others might call Hermione bossy, and they would be mostly right, but only Harry and Ron truly understood that such bossiness arose from her sheer determination, a well of opinions and of her mulish stubbornness. "Don't argue with me on this one. I don't want you to come."

"Ouch, Hermione."

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant you need to be here with Pipsqueak. Just as I do for Kitsune – which I would be in any other situation. But just in this case…" She trailed off regretfully, biting her lip once more, before she seemed to make a deliberate attempt to thrust her concerns aside. "I have to go and see my parents. I have to, even if it is poor timing. And even if Kitsune… even if she needs me, I can hope that Lavender will look after her. That she'll be okay. That she won't, you know…"

"Mature?" Harry offered the euphemism.

Hermione nodded fervently. "Exactly. But you don't. And Harry, I think it would be better if you stayed here. With Pipsqueak."

Something in Harry had already accepted that he would be staying – gratefully accepted – but he still couldn't help but argue. "But I'm supposed to go with you."

Hermione shook her head. "You need to be here, Harry. Pipsqueak is good for you, probably in a way outside of how Kitsune is good for me, or Tod for Ron. You need to be here. And besides," she shrugged easily, flashing him a smile. "I'll have Ron with me. Tod doesn't need him so much anymore and he'll miss him but they'll be alright with just Ginny here. And maybe Hagrid will come too. It's not like I'll be going alone."

"I should still be going with you," Harry muttered, turning his gaze down to his toes as he kicked them idly against the stone floor.

"Maybe if we were in different circumstances," Hermione replied, stepping forwards to link her arm through Harry's once more. "Right now, you can stay here with Pipsqueak and try to help out Lavender for me. Could you?"

Harry turned his gaze towards Hermione as they set off towards the stairwell once more. "Of course I will. Or at least I'll try. I'm not sure how much good I'll be – you know foxlet's don't really like anyone but their own bond-parents."

"I do," Hermione nodded. "But it would be reassuring just knowing there was an extra pair of hands around, just in case." There was hope in Hermione's voice but also a touch of resignation. Harry wondered if she'd perhaps accepted the possibility of Kitsune becoming going Berserk in her absence.

He didn't suggest as much, however, didn't voice his suspicions aloud. Instead, Harry tightened his arm through Hermione's and tugged them into a faster step. "Alright, then. How about we make the most of the time you have left to spend with Kitsune before you go? Give her a hug and a kiss and send her off to bed and all that."

Hermione laughed. "You sound like you're talking about my kid or something."

"I've had that said of me before. Can't say I'm particularly disinclined to agree. It does feel like that sometimes, doesn't it?"

Hermione nodded, smiling. "That it does. Come on, then. Let's go and rescue our kids."

With a shared chuckle, they set off at a quick step that actually became a run after several corridors, making for the eighth year tower.

Draco frowned at his textbook. Not because of the words that were written there but because of the one nattering in his ear from beside him, chattering away as though whatever he actually said had any real purpose.

"… don't consider the logistics of it, you know? It's the banter and the exchanges that go on while your playing the game that matter as much as the actual game itself."

Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise's words. He'd been talking for nearly five minutes straight now, and Draco could only be thankful that it wasn't to him that he was speaking. Luna was good for that much, at least.

"What's the primary topic of conversation, then? Do you speak of politics? Academics? Do you exchange family recipes?"

From the corner of his eye, Draco caught sight of Blaise shaking his head, though in approval rather than denial. "That and more. My family are chronic tic-tackers, but then most the banter consists of attempts to shatter your opponent's poker faces."

"Tic-tacking?" Luna asked. Draco could picture the furrow in her brow without having to look at her. "What's that?"

"It's sort of like communicating non-verbally with one's partner," Blaise explained.

"No, it's cheating," Draco corrected.

Blaise spared him a long-suffering sigh. "Look, if you're going to contribute to the conversation, at least make it productive contribution."

"My definition was productive. It was disproving your euphemism."

"Unnecessarily."

"Very necessarily. You've a twisted tongue, Zabini, and you know it." Turning the page of his textbook, Draco deliberately tilted his head away from Blaise. "Are you ever actually going to get around to playing a game of Scopa or are you just going to discuss it for the rest of the day?"

Blaise clicked his tongue. "You can't play Scopa with only two people."

"I'd wager you could manage."

"It would be better if we had even one more person."

"What a shame it is that you don't," Draco replied, not even glancing up from his book. His other hand stroked along the ridged spine of Pipsqueak's back where she curled in his lap. "Besides, I'm busy babysitting."

"Oh, because you couldn't do that while playing a round of Scopa?"

"I'm studying too."

"But Draco, you haven't read anything for the past ten minutes."

Draco lifted his chin to glare at Luna who, naturally, appeared completely unaffected by his accusing gaze. Blaise visibly fought to suppress a smirk at her words, not appearing in the least apologetic for siding against Draco. "Why are you even here? This is the eighth year common room."

"Blasé invited me," Luna replied, shuffling the pack of cards she'd acquired from Blaise some minutes before with a remarkably dextrous hand. The cards flipped and leapt between her fingers in elaborate twirls that she somehow managed to catch rather than drop.

Draco drew his gaze to Blaise who appeared nothing if not proudly satisfied with Luna's words. "Why would you do that?"

"Invite Loony into our tower?"

"Why do you do this to me?"

"Look, I happen to enjoy her company. If you have a problem, you can just bugger off."

"I've tried," Draco grumbled, which was entirely true. He'd tried on multiple occasion, only for Blaise and Luna to drift after him like shadows that didn't even appear to realise what they were doing and seat themselves alongside him. Blaise seemed to have overlooked that fact.

Ignoring the reply that Blaise offered him – a pointed reply that Draco did not care to hear – he turned back to his textbook. Unfortunately Luna had been correct in one regard at least; Draco hadn't read anything for the past five minutes or so, and he really should, despite the fact that he knew he was ahead in his readings. Of course he knew, and even if he forgot, Blaise took pains to remind him.

"Given that the definition of transmutation reflects the conversion of matter from one state to another, it may be considered more appropriate to refer to modern transfiguration processes by such a term. However, this would overlook the consideration of the spiritual or psychological transformation entailed, as would occur in organic, sentient or semi-sentient matter…"

Merlin, how dry, Draco thought, shaking his head. It was all textbook definition, hashing out the nitty-gritty of that which would likely arise in an exam, but that didn't make it any easier to read. It was really no wonder Draco was distracted by Blaise's inane chatter as to the nature of his favourite card game.

Just as it was no wonder that, when Pipsqueak abruptly sat up in his lap, ears pricking and spinning her head towards the entrance of the tower, Draco too lifted his gaze. He knew what the foxlet's sudden attentiveness entailed, and Draco couldn't help but feel his own drawn in a similar direction.

He and Pipsqueak had grown to friendly terms over the past weeks. Terms that, Draco had to admit, he wasn't really all that averse to evolving. He'd known he'd liked the little creature – little creature who was almost too big to fit on his lap anymore – even before he had held her for the first time, but since Harry had forcibly thrust her upon him it had been different. There was the physical attachment now, too. Draco wanted to be around Pipsqueak.

How horrifying. Of course, he could never admit as much, even if Blaise had made speculations to the fact already on numerous occasions.

Draco found that he actually liked the foxlet. Pipsqueak was quiet but for the occasional yips and the purring noises that were actually strangely soothing as they vibrated through Draco's legs in her doze. She was soft and warm, and she blessedly didn't shed, something that Draco personally was unerringly grateful for. More than that, however, even more importantly, was that she was intelligent.

Draco had ridiculed Harry over his suggestion that Pipsqueak understood his words and what he was saying. Now, he couldn't help but agree, at least in the privacy of his own mind. There was definitely intelligence in her wide, black eyes, eyes that more often than not Draco found settled upon him and simply watching attentively. Not in a creepy way, but just… watching. Studying. As though she were learning simply by observing Draco's gestures, which he suspected she sort of did. She seemed to know when Draco shifted because she was sitting in an uncomfortable position upon his lap and adjusted herself accordingly. She seemed to sense when he was getting frustrated and for no apparent reason would set about purring until, somehow, that frustration seemed to magically ease. She even, when the scarce occasion arose, understood when Draco needed her to just get off his lap for a minute or two, just so that he could recover from his bout of too much creature-intimacy, and would remove herself from such contact to simply sit at his side, ears pricked and looking up at him silently, watchfully.

Draco never could maintain such distance for long, however, not under such attentive adoration. He'd always been one who loved being adored. Draco usually picked the foxlet back up and placed her back into his lap moments later, unable to suppress a small smile as she uttered a squeak and wriggled in delight before settling herself into stillness once more. Such instances of necessary distancing had become less frequent of late.

And just as Pipsqueak seemed to be somehow learning Draco's quirks, he was slowly picking up hers, too. Like how she seemed to melt beneath a scratch just between the two black lines leading down from her forehead – a fact he'd actually noticed from Harry and adopted for himself. Or that she seemed to lean more towards an omnivorous or even carnivorous diet except when it came to treacle tart, a fact he also suspected arose from Harry. Or that when she pricked up her ears like she had just then, turning towards the entrance with her three tails swishing in a jumble of wags, it meant that Harry was but seconds away from stepping through the doorway.

Which, barely a minute later, he did.

Pipsqueak loosed a delighted squeal of "eeee-yip-yip-yip!" and bodily flung herself from Draco's lap. Unfortunately for Draco, they were still attached collar to bracelet, so he was dragged along with her. Intelligent Pipsqueak may be, but that particular feature was evidently something that she had yet to realise just yet. Or perhaps she just didn't care.

The foxlet leapt onto the table, bounding across the desk and tugging Draco to his feet behind her. When she reached the edge of the desk, it was to leap with greater height, splaying her arms and legs wide, and gliding across the room like a kite. Draco was nearly tripping in an attempt not to be dragged when she latched herself onto Harry's arms. Harry himself, barely through the doorway, uttered a faint "oomph!" when she crashed into him. She really was getting nearly too big for such things.

"Hey, you," Harry said, eyes immediately seeing only Pipsqueak. His bright, lopsided smile spread across his face. "Did you miss me?"

To Pipsqueak's chittering yips that sounded very much like a reply, Draco straightened himself and began unlatching the bracelet from his wrist. Such was always the way, that he would hand both chain and foxlet back to Harry as soon as he returned. Pipsqueak adored Harry even more than she did Draco and always locked onto him the moment he returned.

Draco tried not to be jealous of that fact. He wasn't. Not really. Harry had been with her longer, more often, cared for her more. It would be natural for Pipsqueak to like him more.

Stupid foxlet.

"You've only been gone for, what, two hours?" Draco drawled, holding out the bracelet to Harry.

Harry finally glanced up to him, his crooked grin spreading across his face in a different sort of way that was distinctly teasing. "What's this, Draco? You're so happy to see me back that you ran all the way to the entrance?"

"That joke doesn't get any funnier the more times you tell it," Draco muttered. When Harry held out his hand, he obediently snapped the bracelet back on to his wrist. It wasn't so much because he felt he should be the one to do it for him but because he literally couldn't get it to unstick from his own fingers unless he did so. It was part of the charm.

Harry's grin widened at his words. "Maybe not to you." Then he turned back to Pipsqueak, hefting her higher in his arms. "My Pips, I think you are almost getting too big to sit on my shoulder."

Pipsqueak's yip was accompanied by a little grumble as if in disagreement, and she even went so far as to shake her head in a sharp jerk. Harry only laughed. He always seemed in a good mood when he came back from his visits down to see the Weasley foxlet. "Alright, then. Might as well make the most of it when you're still just small enough." And with another "oomph", he raised Pipsqueak to his shoulder. She immediately clambered up the rest of the way herself, crouching onto her haunches with tails trailing down Harry's back in a way that should have been precarious but with Pipsqueak's balance simply wasn't. Her whole head and most of her shoulders reached above Harry's head now.

Across the room from behind him, Draco could make out the sounds of Granger as she hastened to Brown's side. No, not Granger. It was Hermione and Lavender now; he was supposed to call them by their first names, even if doing so did leave a faintly bitter taste on his tongue. He'd promised Harry that he would try for Salazar only knew what reason. Between the two girls, white foxlet had set about yapping in near hysterics, much to both Hermione's and Lavender's audible amusement and affection. Draco even heard a laugh that sounded very much like that which Harry had uttered moments before echo from behind him.

He ignored them. Draco might have to call them by their names now, but that didn't mean he had to observe their antics. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat to draw Harry's attention from where he was bopping Pipsqueak upon her nose. The foxlet actually appeared to be uttering giggles of a sort with every touch. "You're back for the rest of the day, aren't you? You'll take Pipsqueak?"

"Of course," Harry said without glancing in Draco's direction. Draco fought the urge to frown at that.

"Good. I've got homework to do, then," he replied and turned upon his heel to make his way back across the room to his desk once more. Blaise and Luna were still sitting there and Blaise had actually alleviated the cards from Luna's grasp to deal out a round.

"Oh, because Pipsqueak makes it so hard to study," Harry said, following after him. Once more there was a note of teasing more than simply sarcasm in his voice. "What with her sitting there still and quiet, being so disruptive and everything."

"Shut up, Potter," Draco replied, but even he had to admit that there wasn't all that much sting to his words. It was hard to embed as much into his voice when Harry so clearly didn't feel inclined.

"Hey, Draco."

Pausing in step, because something in Harry's tone had become suddenly serious, Draco glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

Harry quirked his lips, pursing them thoughtfully. Draco had to shake his attention from the expression to concentrate on his words when he spoke. "Just a thought. What are you doing for Christmas?"

Draco was immediately suspicious. He frowned. "Why?"

"For God's sake, don't get all defensive. I was just asking. To work out what to do with Pipsqueak."

"You're not taking off somewhere, are you?" Draco asked. He tried to keep his sudden concern from his tone. Pipsqueak was indeed far from difficult to care for, but Harry wasn't going to just bugger off to the other side of the world or something, was he? He was supposed to look after the foxlet. It was his job more than Draco's, and Draco couldn't… he couldn't just… Harry surely wouldn't just up and leave, would he?

His sudden onslaught of fear was brushed aside almost as quickly as it arose, however, when Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not going anywhere. I just wondered if maybe you might have been going home." He shrugged awkwardly. "It's just that Pipsqueak would probably want to see you, is all, so if you were… I mean, if you wouldn't mind if I just came for a visit or something maybe a couple of times?"

Draco turned slowly to more fully face Harry. He blinked. That was… unexpected. Both Harry's demeanour, almost bashful as he scratched awkwardly at the side of his head, and the words themselves. Harry was offering, what, to actually come to Malfoy Manor if Draco was there? He'd be prepared to do that, after everything that had happened there? Draco was under no allusions; his own memories from the previous year at the Manor weren't favourable, and Harry's would likely be just as bad, if somewhat less extensive. But he would do that? For Draco?

No, for Pipsqueak, Draco corrected himself. Idiot.

Shaking his head less in denial and more to clear it of the strange satisfaction, of the… what was that? Something else that Draco couldn't identify, he spoke. "No, I'm staying at school." He didn't elaborate, that he didn't particularly want to leave school or visit his house that was no longer a home, even if his mother was still there and he wanted to see her.

Harry gave a small sigh and the tension Draco hadn't even noticed was there seemed to ease from his shoulders. "That's good. Thanks. I mean, that's good, 'cause it would be easier to work around Pipsqueak and all."

"Of course. That makes sense."

"Much easier if we're both at Hogwarts."

"Far easier."

"Great."

They fell into momentary silence, staring at one other. Draco found himself struggling to fathom what it was that had arisen at Harry's words – really, what was that? – while Harry seemed to be studying him searchingly in return from behind the messy tresses of his fringe. His hand drifted up to touch at Pipsqueak's head, scratching gently, and the foxlet gave a soft "yip", her own gaze drifting between the both of them.

Harry had just opened his mouth to speak, to say something, when Blaise – fucking Blaise – interrupted them with a call. "Oh, Harry! Wonderful. Come and join us for a game."

Whatever Harry had been about to say appeared to evaporate from his tongue as he shifted his attention over Draco's shoulder towards Blaise. Draco felt himself scowl. He didn't know why he cared so much for Harry's unspoken words, only that he did. He turned his scowl over his shoulder to Blaise, who he knew saw and registered it and only smirked in reply.

"What are you playing?" Harry asked.

"Scopa."

"Never heard of it."

"Don't worry, Harry, I'd never heard of it either," Luna offered, smiling vaguely towards him. "It's fairly simple though."

Blaise reached towards her and tapped a finger to her temple in a strangely intimate gesture that didn't appear to faze either of them. But then, that was just how Blaise and Luna were, Draco supposed. "How do you know that when we haven't even played yet?"

"Just a guess. And besides, I'm good at games."

"Are you now?" Blaise said, and there was definite challenge in his voice. Then he turned back towards Harry and Draco. "What do you say? Up for it?"

Harry shrugged, jiggling Pipsqueak slightly on her perch. "Sure, why not. Draco?"

Draco didn't want to play Blaise's stupid game. He hated playing Scopa against Blaise. Besides, he really should have been doing his homework. He'd hardly gotten anything done all day and it was nearing lunchtime. But before Harry's expectant stare, he felt his objections died on his tongue. Sighing, he nodded. "Alright. Just one game, though."

This time, when Harry smiled at Draco, it felt like it was actually for him. As Draco allowed Harry to pass him, falling into step in his wake and proceeding to seat himself at the table before the spread of cards, he understood the feeling that had arisen before.

Oh shit.