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Chapter Text

Morning Herbology had been cancelled. This meant that Harry could linger over breakfast in the Great Hall, watching Ron spear kippers onto his plate and come up with increasingly unworkable strategies for getting past Dumbledore’s Age Line. Hermione, sitting across the table from him, kept shooting them down. 

“What if - okay, I think I’ve got something,” said Ron. "What if I got a Time-Turner, used it a bunch, and aged up three years before the end of the month? Unspeakables do that sometimes. If they have to train for important missions.” 

“Ron! Not even going into the existential issues with that, and the practical considerations of how you’re supposed to avoid so many of your past selves, how exactly are you planning on getting a Time-Turner?” 

“I mean, McGonagall did just give you yours.” 

It was when the conversation turned instead towards how amazing it would be to actually win the Triwizard Tournament that Harry tuned it out. Instead, he watched a gigantic grey eagle owl soar into the hall and land with a flump at the Slytherin table. That same owl turned up nearly every week, bringing Draco Malfoy his package of sweets and gifts from home. Across the nearly-empty Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, Harry watched as Malfoy held out a box of chocolates to the knot of Slytherins around him, making a show of shaking open the letter that came with it one-handed.

"Remus is settling in well," he read. "He's been on the run for ages. No one else would take him in."

"Was that why he was always dressed like that?" asked Blaise Zabini. The spell he cast on the candies was making a few of them vibrate violently. "Tell your mother to stop sending you white chocolate, Draco." 

"She's not a house elf," said Malfoy, imperiously. "And yes. I imagine being on the run would put some limitations on your wardrobe. Remus is looking much better now." 

Harry thought about Sirius. It had been over a month since he’d heard from him. Nothing new since Harry had sent him the letter about his scar hurting. He hoped that everything was okay.

Theodore Nott was now reading over Malfoy’s shoulder. "Since when do you have a senior cursebreaker shoring up your house wards?" 

"The family wards are obviously too complex to trust to an amateur. You should come by the house and see the new setting stones, Theo. You're top in Arithmancy, you might think they're interesting." 

Then Pansy Parkinson made an observation, which Zabini supported and Nott vehemently denied, that boys only took Arithmancy if they thought Professor Vector was attractive. This sparked a few minutes of robust conversation before things quieted down enough for Pansy to say - 

"You know. I always thought Professor Lupin was quite all right." 

"Even though he's a werewolf?" scoffed Millicent Bulstrode.

"Especially because he's a werewolf," said Pansy, with a smirk. 

"Really," said Malfoy. "Forced animal transformations are no different from any other magical accident. Except much more rare and noteworthy of course. I know, from my own experience - " but his friends cut him off, groaning, and he got double cut-off by the ringing of the bell. The whole ferret incident had only gotten funnier since Malfoy had started retelling it like a war story, to the increasing annoyance of everyone around him. 

But Harry needed a moment to let the rest of that conversation sink in. He had the bizarre realization that he’d really just been listening to Draco Malfoy defend werewolves. To a bunch of Slytherins. He’d been almost bragging about having Professor Lupin staying at his house.

“Did you hear that?” Harry said, interrupting Ron’s fantasy about buying a niffler with the prize money. “What Malfoy’s saying about Lupin?” 

“Wanker probably saw you listening,” said Ron. “Could be saying that just to get a rise.” 

“I don’t know…” said Hermione, biting her lip. “Seems a complicated lie to keep going, especially if he’s planning on having guests. Maybe Professor Lupin is staying there. I hope he’s all right.”

Harry was pretty sure that if the Malfoys actually were imprisoning Lupin, then Malfoy would’ve been bragging about that instead. There had to be something stranger going on, for Draco Malfoy to suddenly start saying nice things about werewolves. 

However, Ron and Hermione weren’t especially keen on the idea of interrogating Malfoy. Ron said it was more trouble than it was worth, and Hermione had the practical suggestion of writing Lupin and asking him what was happening, before they did anything else. Harry didn’t disagree - but he also didn’t know how long it would take Lupin to get back to him, and it was possible that the Malfoys might be blocking his owls. So instead he told Ron and Hermione to go on ahead - and lingered just behind the doors to the Great Hall. Malfoy was the last one out, needing time to stuff his presents from home into his school bag. The blonde hair made him very easy to keep track of. 

He also jumped about a foot when he saw Harry.

"What - oh. Hello, Potter. If this is your idea of a trap, it's rubbish." 

Harry stared at him. Because suddenly - very bright and clear as a developing photograph - he could think of one and pretty much only one good reason why Draco Malfoy would suddenly turn pro-werewolf. It was also a reason that neatly explained why he would need a werewolf mentor living in his house. Harry glanced around. Maybe the hallway wasn’t such a good place to have this conversation.

"Malfoy. Are you... er... you know..."

At that moment a pack of seventh years who had attracted the ire of Peeves came galloping down the corridor. Malfoy yanked him out of their path. 

"You looked like someone put you in a full-body bind,” he said, as Harry somehow managed to recover his footing. “Moody's probably materializing out of nowhere to turn me into a hedgehog, if Harry Potter gets trampled in front of me." 

"That can't be it,” Harry blurted. "No way that’s it. You didn’t get nicer just because you’re scared of Moody."

"If this is your definition of nice, I'd get myself some better friends." 

“You know that… er… Hermione-takes-notes-for-me-and-Ron. If you need notes for the end of the week.” During the full moon.

Malfoy's brow furrowed. "Potter, what - "

"You're right. About werewolves. So… let me know if you want the notes. After you get back."

“Get back?”

“After the…” Harry tried to think of a more subtle way to phrase it, but just ended up mumbling full moon. Which made Malfoy grab the sleeve of Harry’s robes and pull him into an alcove, close enough to whisper. 

"Potter. Are you seriously accusing me of being a werewolf? Do you think that… what, you think that Professor Lupin bit me and now my parents are hosting him in our home?"  

"Not Lupin. But maybe…” Harry realized he had never stood this close to Malfoy. He could see his skin reddening. Hear him breathing. “Somebody else," he finished, lamely. 

"You could have just waited a week to see if I missed my classes on the full moon, but no, you had to ambush me and - " 

"If you’re not a werewolf, then how come you stopped being such a git?" 

Malfoy huffed, and made a move to push him away. Then seemed to reconsider. "If you tell anyone this, I'll deny it. But I can't have you going around telling people - " 

"I wasn't going to tell anyone."

"Thank you for that, I suppose. No, it is the… ferret situation. But not for the reasons you seem to think.” Malfoy sighed, dramatically. “What you should have realized is that Moody’s got quite a better reputation than my parents. So much better that if he comes after me… there's not much they can do. I’m not stupid enough to do anything that will cause trouble for my family."

"Oh,” said Harry.

"And if Mother and Father have decided to make their next cause werewolf rights, then I'd also be stupid to let Pansy run on about whatever werewolf novel she's stolen out of her mother’s dressing table and - " 

“What?” 

“Pansy - ” 

“No, werewolf rights.” 

“My parents are raising funds for St. Mungos.” Malfoy shrugged. “And they’ve got Severus doing experiments to make better Wolfsbane potion.” 

“Snape’s helping?” That made no sense at all. “Snape’s the one who got Lupin sacked!"

"Well I guess he changed his mind.” Malfoy lowered his voice into a halfway decent Snape impression and said, “Do not assume people will always behave the way that you expect them to behave based on initial impressions, when other evidence points to the contrary."

Now all Harry could think was that maybe Snape had got a concussion, after they had knocked him out in the Shrieking Shack. Maybe it had made him nicer. 

"Does that answer your questions, Potter? Or do you think I'm a secret vampire too?"

"Are you?" 

"No! " 

"You look like one."

Then before he could say anything else, Harry turned and started walking to class. Or at least, he walked until there was a wall between him and Malfoy. Then he started sprinting. Hopefully he’d get to Care of Magical Creatures before Hagrid realized he was late, and be able to forget he’d ever had this conversation.

Chapter Text

SECRET WEREWOLVES IN MALFOY MANOR?

The sprawling Wiltshire mansion gifted to Armand Malfoy in 1066 has been home to many strange tableaus over the years, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. From the famous paranoia and dark experiments of Abraxas Malfoy to the infamous company kept by his son, the house is no stranger to dark creatures and dark secrets.

However, nothing comes close to the presence of Remus Lupin, the werewolf who infiltrated the teaching staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry last year and was tied to the escape of famed muggle-killer Sirius Black. Lupin has been living on the Malfoy property ever since the Dark Mark appeared over the World Cup, says an inside source. When not in Wiltshire, he can be found in London, haranguing high level Ministry employees about his dismal job prospects now that his condition is public. 

“We can’t get rid of him,” says Percy Weasley, executive assistant to Bartemius Crouch. “Why is he even talking to the Department of International Magical Cooperation? We keep telling him to go to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but he says he keeps getting lost. I think he’s doing it on purpose.” 

One ear he does have is that of the Malfoys. In Thursday’s Wizengamot session, Lucius Malfoy voted to offer discreet care to Saint Mungo’s patients in a proposal which seems designed to provide medical assistance to dark wizards like Sirius Black. However, it would work equally well to provide care to werewolves who have reason to hide. It is common knowledge that Lucius Malfoy is the source of much of the hospital’s funding, so perhaps it is only a matter of time before such a thing becomes the new status quo.

Why the change of heart, and why the shift in personal politics? A source close to the Malfoys reveals that Aquila Lennox, senior Gringotts cursebreaker, spent her summer re-fitting the ancient Malfoy wards to keep out - or perhaps keep in - “animals.” Lennox suspiciously refused to comment, but it is the opinion of this correspondent that Remus Lupin is not the only resident of Malfoy Manor who will be requiring discreet medical care this upcoming full moon.

 

The next time Harry ran into Malfoy involved running into Malfoy. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, so he and Ron were balancing stacks of Honeydukes boxes in their arms, and he was paying more attention to not dropping them than he was to where he was going. So when he collided with something tall and poky… Harry found himself sprawled on the ground, covered in a cloud of sparkles from a crushed bag of pixie wands, watching a few chocolate frogs make a break for it. “Oh, sorry,” he said - before actually looking up, and seeing the pale pointed face of Draco Malfoy, flanked on either side by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oi, don't apologize to him," said Ron, helping Harry to his feet. “He's probably only here getting candy so he can bribe people back to his house and feed them to his dad."

Malfoy's pale face went scarlet. "And what would you know about bribing anyone to do anything, Weasley?"

"Bet he keeps a bunch of kids in his pantry now, if he didn't before getting bit."

"Don't talk about my father that way. You're just making yourself look stupid and ill-informed, although I can hardly say that's a surprise."

Harry just stood there, bewildered.

"Malfoy's dad's a werewolf," said Ron.

"So's Lupin." Harry had been in the common room when Ron started waving around that newspaper. There was a lot the article had gotten wrong, which made him suspicious about the rest. 

"If you didn't blindly believe everything you read in the Prophet, you'd know that was sensationalist nonsense,” said Malfoy. “Besides. Even if it were true, it’s an entirely manageable condition and all it would change is the date we hold our Autumn Solstice Ball. Come on Crabbe, Goyle. It's useless talking to some people." 

The three of them spun around, leaving the same way they had come. Harry waited until they were out of earshot before turning to Ron.

"What was that about?” 

“What was what about? Mate, it’s Malfoy.” 

“Who’s been practically hiding from us ever since Moody turned him into a ferret. Even if his dad were a werewolf - ”

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”  

“It’d be like making fun of him because, I don’t know…” Harry couldn’t think of a good comparison. “It… wouldn’t be his fault,” he finished, lamely.

“Since when are you defending Lucius Malfoy?” 

“Since when are you going off about werewolves?" 

It was weird being mad at Ron. It must have been strange for Ron too, who just looked at Harry and shrugged. Went to pick up the Chocolate Frog boxes. Harry left him to it, and went after Malfoy.

"Hey mate. Wait up!"

Harry picked up speed. Turned a corner just as he heard Ron go - "What'd I say?" 

Harry spotted a shock of white hair in the alleyway between Honeydukes and Zonko's, just visible behind a scraggly tree and the bulk of Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy must’ve been getting a lot of dirty looks because of the werewolf article, if he was hiding out back where they kept the dustbins. 

He straightened up as Harry ducked in.

"What do you want, Potter?

"Uh…” Harry realized he hadn’t had much of a plan, going into this. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m not doing anything. I’m sure it’s very flattering you think everything I do has some ulterior motive, but - ”

“No, I mean - right now. In Hogsmeade.”   

Malfoy froze. Glanced around like he was expecting a pack of Gryffindors to jump out at him. 

"Where’s Granger?" 

“Three Broomsticks. Some author she likes is signing books."

“You… I assume you are annoyed with Weasley,” Malfoy spoke slowly, as though certain he was missing something. “And you don’t want to go to a book signing with Granger. And apparently no other member of Gryffindor house is convenient. So you’ve decided to… what, come bother me? Stand next to me while I do my shopping?"

"Er... If you want. I s’pose?"

Malfoy was looking at him like he'd just suggested taking Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts for a walk.

"I don't think your dad's a werewolf,” Harry tried to explain. “And if he were, he probably wouldn't eat kids.” 

"Yeah…” said Malfoy. “Well. Guess you're smarter than half the school." 

"Tea shop," said Goyle, unexpectedly.

"What?" said Malfoy, distractedly. "Why?" He turned, and apparently saw something in Goyle’s expression that Harry didn’t. "Oh come on. It’s not that bad."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other. Crabbe shook his head. Harry tried to figure out their code. Got stuck when he couldn't figure out 'tea shop.'

"Fine," said Malfoy. "If it's so awful, I'll meet you back up at the castle. And if someone hexes me on the way there, I hope you feel guilty about it." 

"Potter's here," said Crabbe, shrugging.

Malfoy didn’t respond. Just fixed his hair, straightened his robes, and breezed on out of the alley. "Come on, Potter. If you've really got nothing better to do, I'm going to look at tea."

"Oh. Right. Sure." Maybe ‘tea shop’ really meant tea shop. Harry hurried to keep up, now even more confused. "You... like tea?" What was he thinking. Of course Malfoy liked tea. Everyone liked tea. 

"No, I'm going tea shopping because I despise it. Of course I like tea. And the school's Lancashire blend is passable, at best." 

"Yeah. Er.... Definitely. Always thought so." Why did Harry suddenly feel the need to fake tea opinions? He didn’t have tea opinions. If it was served, he would drink it. He was the same way about food. 

"Have you been Confunded recently? You're agreeing with me, and taking my side against Weasley." 

"Yeah, well - you’re making more sense than you usually do. Now that you’ve started being nice about Lupin.”  

"Is that what this is about?" Malfoy sighed, as though his words pained him, but did continue. “You want to hear me say it? Fine. Lupin was the best Defense teacher we’ve ever had. Not that that’s saying much. I guess…” he coughed. “I guess it was a little childish of me to go on about his clothes. Lockhart was one of the best-dressed professors we’ve ever had, and look where that got us.” 

Harry made a disgusted snort. "You think we'll ever get one worse than him?" He couldn’t imagine how. Unless Dumbledore finally gave Snape the job.

"Remember when he had you up in front of the class, acting out skits? I don't know which of you was harder to watch."

"At least he gets to forget it all."

"Just me who is eternally scarred."

"He made it so I had to grow back all the bones in my arm!"  

“But that was only after you’d just made a catch with your off-hand,” Malfoy huffed. "With a broken arm and a rogue bludger, no less. And lest we forget, you were flying against me on a slower model. So no, actually,” he added, darkly. “Lockhart should have removed more of your bones." 

Harry could admit that some of what happened that day had been luck. But  - 

“Still be better on a broom than you." 

"It was raining as well," Malfoy said, not letting this go. "Marcus wouldn’t talk to me for a month after that match. Everyone thought I bought my way onto the team. Which I didn’t, by the way." 

Harry looked at him sideways, enough to see Malfoy’s cheeks go slightly pink. 

“But it doesn’t matter now, since they're cancelling the Quidditch Cup because of the Tournament.”

For once, it seemed like Malfoy and Harry were on exactly the same page. 

"Don’t see why we couldn’t just play against the other schools,” said Harry.

"You do know that Viktor Krum goes to Durmstrang?" 

“Yeah, and then we’d get to play against him. Instead it’s some kind of magic judge telling us..." Harry didn't really know what exactly was involved. "Actually what is the point of the Tournament?"

“Well, it used to be a way for schools to advertise and show off their best students. So everyone would choose them instead of the competition. But that was back in the fourteenth century. I don’t know what the point is now." 

"Quidditch would make more sense."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but didn’t disagree. "Hey Potter…" a sharp elbow to the ribs. "You're not really on a Firebolt now, are you?" 

"Yeah my - " Harry cut himself off. "My er... money my parents left me paid for it." 

"Mm. That's what comes of controlling your own finances, I suppose. Father says he'll spend the family gold on one of those when I'm flying for England, and not before. I thought he might be persuaded if he saw me make some spectacular enough catches. He always comes to the games. But now that's off the table." 

“Maybe if you’re flying against Diggory. But you’re not getting in any spectacular catches against me or Cho. And good luck in the pro leagues.

"If this is the World Cup, then we'd be on the same team." Malfoy paused, mildly surprised by the picture he'd painted. "Oh, we - we're here,” he said. “It's right here."

Harry hadn't even noticed.

It turned out that the tea shop Malfoy had mentioned was extremely pink and frilly. Harry definitely would never have set foot in here on his own, but Malfoy was so supremely at home that his comfort rubbed off a little. Harry was learning that apparently, on his Hogsmeade weekends, Draco Malfoy enjoyed sitting in a mostly-empty tea shop and ordering gravity-defying stacks of tiny teacups spelled not to fall. 

He turned to wave at Harry, then at the teetering stack of doll-sized china in front of him. Harry had no idea what that meant, and didn’t want to risk their surprisingly fun truce by guessing. 

"Try some,” said Malfoy. “Unless you’re planning on just standing there and watching me drink. Even Crabbe and Goyle have a cup or two apiece before they go off to play Exploding Snap in the corner." 

Malfoy was right. That was weird. Harry didn't want to look weird. He grabbed a teacup and drank it down.

"Sit, Potter. We're sitting. We're drinking... slowly, unless you want to have to take freezing potion after you burn your tongue. It'll give you a lisp for a quarter of an hour."

Harry sat on a flouncy chair. Felt himself blushing. Luckily, there was a good chance Malfoy wouldn’t notice. Blushes didn’t show on his face too badly. 

"Now." Malfoy picked up one of the tiny cups. "World Cup. Krum caught the Snitch, lost the match. Is it showing off, bad tactics, not wanting to play through an injury? Did he throw the game on purpose?" 

Harry shook his head. Unlike tea, this he understood. "It's got to do with how Ireland plays. All the best Chasers in the world are on their team, and their Keeper?" 

"Merlin, Ryan is an amazing Keeper. Everyone is talking about the Chasers, because they're flashy, but did you see some of the saves he made?" 

“Right? If it'd been anybody else, they wouldn't have blocked half those shots. Only way Bulgaria could’ve won is if Krum got the snitch before Ireland was 150 points up."

“Which he tried to do, getting Lynch out of the picture by pulling a - ” 

“A Wronski Feint, exactly.” 

Malfoy drank from his tiny teacup and considered a moment. "Well this one is terrible." He set it aside, and grabbed another. "So that's it then? Krum essentially calling the game for us?" 

“Second the Irish Chasers were at 170, he knew it was over."

Malfoy seemed to be enjoying his current cup, which was a slightly alarming blood-red color. He inspected the stack, picked out a cup with a matching china pattern, and slid it across to Harry. "This one's rather worth a try."

Harry eyed it uncertainly. Took a sip.

"What do you think?” Malfoy paused, and then said  - "You don't have to like it."

"It's good." It was tea. "It tastes... a little fruity maybe?" Harry didn’t know. He didn’t know what you were supposed to say about a fancy cup of tea. It had to be fancy if Malfoy liked it. 

"That's probably the hibiscus. Here." Malfoy put another down right in front of Harry. "Try that instead."

Harry drank. Was not expecting to be assaulted with the taste of ten thousand cough drops. "It's, er..." He couldn't think of anything nice to say. So he took another sip, and hated it even more.

"It's what?" prompted Malfoy.

"...you like this?" He couldn't keep the distaste completely from his voice. Still finished the cup though. 

Draco Malfoy rubbed his temples. "Potter, in China they call that Bitter Nail tea. It's what they used to drink before Pepper-Up Potion was invented. It’s not supposed to taste good. " He took the cup away. "That was a test, and you failed. If you don't like the tea, stop drinking. Do you also eat the Every-Flavor Beans that taste like earwax?"

"No, but that's different."

"How?"

"It's not rude if I bought it."

Malfoy just looked at him. "I don't know if this is some sort of muggle thing, or some sort of Weasley thing. But accepting tea does not indebt you to me. I'm not a fay."  

Harry leaned back at the too-small table, and resisted the urge to cross his arms. "I didn't think that. I just..."

The truth was that he had spent most of his childhood in a closet with no friends. There were still times, now was one of them, where he wasn’t sure if he really knew how to act normal. Most people either didn't notice or didn't ask, but Harry knew better than to expect the same courtesy from Draco Malfoy. 

"Potter…” said Malfoy, seriously. “Listen to me. All this, it’s -  a game. I come here, when it's not too crowded, and order a sampler of the most unusual teas they have. If I like one, then I buy a box and have a second box sent to Mother. It's only fun if you play the game." 

“Your mum likes tea?”

“Yes, Potter. My mother likes tea.” 

"What - what kind of teas does she like?"

“Mother?” Draco seemed surprised by the conversational turn. “I suppose… anything that's sweet, and complicated. If you drink it and realize it’s got a very different aftertaste, Mother will most likely enjoy it." He contemplated his cup, in silence. "We would do this sort of thing when I was younger. Mother, asking me what notes I tasted, then introducing me to everyone who came up to our table. Once they left she’d tell me all the gossip she knew about them." 

"That actually sounds… kind of fun." Harry wasn’t sure if going tea-tasting was a wizard thing or a Malfoy thing. However, he was sure that the Dursleys would hate it, which made him like it on principle. They hated trying new things.

He found himself wondering if his own mum had liked trying strange new teas.

"I suppose I miss it sometimes," said Draco. "When I'm at school."

That made sense. Harry remembered how nice it had been when Lupin made him tea, back when he hadn’t been allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Which reminded him -

“So Professor Lupin is doing okay, right? At your house.”  

“Is that why you got me alone, to ask me that? Yes, he’s fine.” Seeing Harry’s slightly skeptical face, Draco amended - “if you don’t believe me, you could always come by and see him yourself."

“What?" said Harry. But as they both sat in silence, Draco didn’t laugh, or take it back, or treat it as a joke. 

"You'd actually want to come?" he said, instead.

Harry shrugged. “It’d be nice to see him.” 

"I mean, the Manor is sort of for guests. So people like Remus and Severus can just show up out of the blue." 

"Don’t want to go a day Snape's there."

"It's very large, you wouldn't have to see him. Also, the flying’s good and he never goes outside." 

That made Harry say yes absolutely. The idea of getting in some proper flying practice over the summer was good enough, not to mention playing against Draco. None of the Weasleys were much good at Seeker.  

"Yes, well…” Draco leaned back on his flouncy stool, looking a little shocked. “Send an owl on ahead? We're on the Floo network, but if you're in Muggle London I suppose someone can… come and get you?" 

Harry's heart sank. He'd been having so much fun that he'd forgotten.

"You don't have to," said Draco, misreading his look. "And we’re not about to hold you prisoner. You can go whenever. It's the same basic principle as the tea." 

“I'll talk with my aunt and uncle. It might help if…" It was embarrassing to admit, but -  "Do you have a really scary looking owl?"

Draco turned, and raised an eyebrow. "I'll ask Father if I can borrow Orgoglio. Who is a raven," he clarified. "For when extra style is needed."

"Brilliant."

"I can do a bit of a glamour to make him trail smoke. Too much?" 

"Maybe. Do it anyway." Harry wanted to see their faces.

"I can do some red glowing eyes as well."

"That might be too much." He didn’t want to spook the neighbors. Some of them were okay. " If they don't let me write back, then you can." 

Truth be told, Harry wasn’t a hundred percent sure what sort of situation he would be returning to at the end of the year. Threatening the Dursleys with his serial killer godfather had worked pretty well last summer, but if Sirius never wrote and never showed up… it was anyone’s guess how long that threat would keep working. The Weasleys had picked him up from Privet Drive in the most magical, most destructive way possible, and while it had been very funny at the time - Harry might be looking at bars on his window, or reduced food, or maybe even the cupboard again when school ended. 

“You're wondering if you will be permitted to write back?" said Draco, interrupting his thoughts.

Harry shrugged. "It’ll be okay. Like you said, I got to go to the World Cup."

"Right..." said Draco. "Well. The invitation stands."

That made Harry’s entire body feel lighter, light enough to shake off any lingering thoughts of the Dursleys. He grinned. The teashop had gotten busier around them without his really noticing. From what Draco had said, it seemed like Crabbe and Goyle got bored with this. Harry wasn’t bored at all.

"I think you should get the red tea." He'd forgotten what Draco had said was in it.

"I think so as well,” said Draco. “You're not hungry, are you? Only we probably ought to order if we're going to keep the table. I'll put it on the family account, it's fine. You can return the favor some other time."

Harry shifted in his seat. He had been so buoyant only a moment ago. But now he was unpleasantly conscious of the way he was sitting, and especially of how close he was sitting to Draco. Something about the specific way he had brought up buying food made it sound like… like they were on some sort of date. And since it was time for afternoon tea and the shop around them was filling with couples, it even looked like they were on a date. But Harry wasn't like that, and neither was Draco. They'd just been making fun of Lockhart, after all. 

So even though he would have liked to stay, Harry shook his head. "Last thing we need is people starting more rumors about us. They already think your family’s werewolves." He didn’t even want to think about what Ron would say, if he walked in and found Harry and Malfoy mid-date. Of course it wasn’t a date, but no one was going to believe him when he said that.

"Rumors?" asked Draco. "What rumors?" 

"You know..." Harry gestured vaguely. "You're already kind of, um.” Draco was exactly the sort of person Uncle Vernon would have called a nancy boy. “Pretty. And - " He had heard a lot of words for guys like that, and went with the least-worst one. “There's a lot of people on dates here. Aren't you worried about... you know. People thinking you're a poof?"

Draco straightened. "I'm sorry," he said. "People thinking I'm a what?" Some of the cold, aristocratic Malfoy was back.

Harry fiddled with his empty teacup, which suddenly felt much too delicate and much too easy to chip. "I mean, I don't think you are. You're not, you know..." He didn’t even know why he was embarrassed. "You play Quidditch." Guys who played sports weren't like that. Even if they were pretty. 

For some reason, his saying that only seemed to make Draco more confused.

"Can we go?" Harry was too hot, all of a sudden. He didn't know what Draco didn't get.

"Of course we can go." Draco stood, and settled the bill. Then swung the door of the tea shop behind him, looking as distracted and frustrated as Harry felt. 

"I don't know why you're suddenly so concerned with my reputation," Draco said, as soon as they walked out of general earshot. "You are clearly the one who doesn't want to be seen with me."

“It's not that -" Now that he was outside, Harry felt a lot calmer. He didn’t actually know what had gotten him so panicky. After all, if he'd been in there with Ron he wouldn't have been worried about people thinking it was a date. 

Draco was leaning in, very close to him. Harry flinched. 

“Calm down," said Draco. “You’ve got an entire beetle stuck in your hair. Just let me - ” 

Harry felt dizzy. He felt sick. The world seemed to shift like he was on the deck of a ship. 

Ron wasn't pretty like Draco was.

He didn't want to go on a date with Ron. 

And once he’d thought that, it was too late. He couldn't go back and un-have the realization. Harry dearly wished Hermione hadn't given back her Time-Turner, because at least then he could have tried.

"Potter, are you ill?"

He felt ill. Draco had taken his arm and was leading him off the Hogsmeade main street, which wasn’t hard. Hogsmeade wasn't that big. There were maybe two layers of houses before everything opened up, and all that was left was overgrown winding pathways going up in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. 

Harry didn't want this. He didn’t want this. He’d thought he'd just been making a friend. 

Draco glanced around, then took out his wand. “Muffliato,” he said. “Just - tell me that you're fine and I'll leave. Because right now it looks like I’ve poisoned Harry Potter." 

Harry took a breath to say he was fine - only to be hit by another realization. Sirius. His blood turned to ice. What would Sirius say if he found out that Harry was a… a… 

The thought of it made his legs wobbly, wobbly in a way they hadn't been even when facing down the Basilisk. Harry blinked, furiously. Stared at the ground. Stared at the Shrieking Shack. Stared at anything that wasn’t Draco. 

It was too much. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to run, but he didn't know where.  

"I think - I think there's something wrong with me."

"Something wrong..." said Draco, still holding his wand. “I’m going to cast red sparks - ” 

“No!” The last thing Harry wanted was to be ambushed by a dozen adult wizards trying to help. 

"Right…” said Draco. “Something wrong with you. Is this... I mean. The parseltongue? Being a parselmouth is rare but it turns up in pureblood families. The Dementor issue, you fixed. Ah... is this about the muggles you live with? You haven't been suppressing magic, have you? Because that could be very bad." 

Draco wasn’t going to drop this. The need to say something was tearing at the inside of Harry’s throat and if he was going to say anything, might as well say it to Draco. His friends weren’t about to believe anything Draco said.

"I think… I think… I-think-I-might-like-blokes." He wasn't sure how he pushed the words out. 

Draco didn't say anything, not for a long minute.

"And?" Like he was waiting for more. "I mean… yes? So do I. So do a lot of people. Who wouldn't look at... Cedric Diggory, or Blaise Zabini, and not think - yes, he's very attractive?" 

Harry blinked. Regretted it instantly. It turned out that blinking was enough to make the tears he’d been trying to hold back fall.

Draco either didn’t notice, or pretended not to.

“Is this some muggle nonsense?” he said instead. “Who told you that liking men was a problem?"

Harry took off his glasses so that he could wipe his eyes. His knees still felt weak. His hands were still shaking. "If my aunt and uncle found out..."

"... then a huge demon raven can distract them while Professor Lupin apparates you away."

Harry shook his head. He wanted out from that house so much it hurt, but he knew he couldn't leave the Dursleys. "Dumbledore says I have to stay. Something to do with Voldemort." There was too much to explain. "Sometimes I leave a week or two early, but that's it." 

Draco’s whole attitude was one of cold displeasure. "I want to talk to Severus about this. And Remus. They can help, I'm almost sure."

"It's fine. It's not as bad as it used to be." Harry was fine. He was fine. His hands would stop shaking in a second.

"It’s clearly still bad."

No one said that. Not even Ron, who had seen the bars on his window and sent him food packages over the summer. Draco hadn't seen any of that, and Draco still said it was bad. Harry hadn’t realized just how much he’d needed to hear that.

Draco put a hand on Harry’s elbow, and steered him off into the trees. Sat them both down against a low overgrown stone wall that was angled away from town, and tall enough to shield them from anyone who might be looking. Harry tried his best to clean his glasses on his shirt.

"I've got a spell to reduce swelling and redness,” said Draco. “Family spell. I'll do it on you before we go back."

"Thanks," said Harry. "Um… could you. Could you please not tell anyone about the liking blokes thing? I know it’s not a big deal to you, but - "

"Yeah. All right.” Draco paused. “You leave, I’ll wait ten minutes and then go. Otherwise it might look like we’ve been snogging." 

"I can meet you back outside Honeydukes. You were worried about getting hexed, right? Ron'll have found Hermione by now… I can just…" Harry spent another minute just breathing, until he was able to say - "Okay. I'm fine."

"Look at me, take off your glasses." Draco was pulling his wand out of his sleeve. 

Harry did. Even this close, he couldn't really see him without them.

"Sufflatis." There was some movement, as Draco flicked his wand. “There. Your face is normal. You know, your eyes really are ridiculously green."

"Can I put my glasses back on?"

"Oh - of course."

Harry’s face really did feel a lot better after the spell. "You'll teach me that sometime?"

"Sure. Whenever. It comes in useful." 

"You're pale enough you'd never be able to hide it otherwise." 

Draco made a face, and Harry grinned. 

And then - not wanting to think any more about this - he stood up. And left, before Draco could think of anything else to say.

Chapter Text

On the first day of November, after everything that happened with the Triwizard Tournament and the Goblet of Fire, Hermione sat down next to Harry and shoved quill and parchment at him.

He’d written out a very long letter to Sirius with all the details Hermione thought might be important, and then - since Hedwig was too recognizable - took the letter up to the Owlery to send. He hadn’t been wearing his cloak when he left the castle, which was stupid, because by the time he got to the top of the tall rickety tower he was shivering and hopping in place to keep warm.

Of course that would be when he was ambushed by Draco. Wrapped in a thick winter cloak, lined with fur.

They hadn’t actually talked since that day in Hogsmeade. Harry had mostly been normal to him in class, which by itself was enough to make Ron start acting like a git. When Harry hadn’t laughed at the joke he’d made about Draco transferring to Durmstrang and falling off a glacier, Ron had gotten all annoyed and quiet for the rest of the day. Then there had been the Halloween feast… and now Harry was the fourth Champion. And Ron wouldn’t even talk to him. 

“So.” Draco was leaning against the stone railing, wind whipping his hair. “Who’s trying to kill you now, Potter?” 

"Surprised you don't think I put my name in. Everybody else does." 

"Please. They stopped the Tournament because the Champions kept dying. And that's top-of-the-class seventh years. You're not that good. And..." Draco paused. Admitted, grudgingly - "I think you know you're not that good."

"Dunno who wants me dead this time. Would've said your dad, but I guess not." 

"Father wants a photograph of you standing next to a werewolf looking sad, so our next gala will be an even greater success." 

Harry shrugged. Things like this just seemed to happen to him. "I don't have to win. Just survive, right?"

This did not seem to comfort Draco. "Right now you're giving off the general impression that you would snap in half if it rained too hard.” 

Just like Draco to be a tosser. Harry knew he wasn't anywhere near as good-looking, but he still didn’t have to say it like that. 

He must have made some kind of a face, because Draco relented. “I know the first task is supposed to be a test of your courage in the face of the unknown or whatever, but there's bound to be a way for me to find out what it is. And trust me, everyone else is going to cheat." 

"You'd do that?" 

Draco moved one shoulder, casually. Even bulky cloaks looked good on him. "Yeah."

Even though a part of Harry did want to stay and talk, maybe about the Tournament, or Quidditch, or even the other magic schools that had just arrived - right then he was also so cold that he couldn’t actually think properly. 

"Can we er, go back inside? Or did you er... need an owl?" Immediately Harry felt stupid for even asking. Of course Draco hadn’t come all the way up here just to see him. That would mean he had been watching to see when Harry left - and just because he, Harry, watched Draco all the time did not mean that Draco did the same thing back.

Draco swung the cloak off his shoulders and passed it over. "Wear this on the way down so you don't die. Did no one ever teach you how to cast warming charms on your socks?"

Harry looked at him sideways. 

"Right. I keep forgetting that you're basically muggleborn." Draco fell into step beside him. Their shoulders bumped.

"What's it like?" blurted Harry. He hadn't meant to say anything. Too late to take it back now though. "Growing up... you know.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what he did mean. Growing up magical. Growing up an only child. Having parents who wrote you every week and sent you presents in the mail. "Just, I mean… if things had ended up…" 

"You mean if you'd grown up pureblood? Well, you still wouldn't like me. Our families didn’t especially get along.” 

"I like you," Harry mumbled, staring at the stone steps. It seemed rude to not say, but also a little too true. He liked wearing Draco’s cloak, which was warm, and smelled nice. He probably shouldn’t have said anything at all.

Draco didn't say anything for a while, which in a way was worse than the teasing. But eventually he broke the silence with, "I thought the problem was that I was… coming onto you. Inappropriately strong. You know. Before." 

Harry tripped and caught himself on the banister. "You were? " 

"I mean, you thought I was taking you on a date, and then called me some random muggle insults, and then I was so attractive I gave you some sort of personal crisis? Or have you blocked that from your memory entirely?" 

"Oh..." Harry guessed that made sense. "Were you?” he said. “Coming onto me, I mean." 

Draco looked at him, seriously.

"No. There was no... ulterior motive. If that’s what you're asking." 

"Oh. Right. Er, I mean, it would've been okay if you were but er uh..." Harry wished he would stop talking. "That's fine." That's fine? What was he saying and how did he make himself stop? 

"All right," said Draco, easily. 

Harry kind of bobbed his head and said, "Cool." Instantly wished he had just stayed quiet. Then he spent the next few flights of stairs thinking that now would be a really, really good time for a dark wizard to attack him. Kept thinking that until Draco said goodbye, and headed off towards the Slytherin dungeons.

It was a whole ten minutes before Harry realized that he was still holding on to Draco’s cloak.

Chapter Text

Of course Harry knew he couldn’t keep Draco’s cloak. For one thing, Draco probably needed it. For another, it had an incriminating little Slytherin crest up near to the collar. 

Even so, Harry didn’t return it right away. He hid it under his Quidditch robes, folded carefully so that nothing Slytherin was visible. Knowing it was there made him smile, but also made him nervous. After all, it was only a matter of time before Neville went rummaging around in his trunk by mistake. 

Once the very last trace of Draco’s fancy shampoo had faded from the fabric, Harry knew it was time. He waited, lying awake, staring at the canopy of his four-poster. The Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map were tucked away under his pillow and Draco’s winter cloak was underneath his mattress. All he had to do now was wait for Ron to start snoring. If he was asleep, that was usually a good sign everyone else was too.

As soon as he heard Ron’s rhythmic wheezing, Harry got out of bed. Threw on the Invisibility Cloak, tucked Draco’s cloak over his arm, and slipped through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady wondered aloud who had opened her at this time of night, but then got distracted when Nearly Headless Nick passed through the wall to say hello. Once Harry was around the corner, he checked the Map - and took off towards the dungeons. The house prefects were finishing up their rounds and if he hurried, he thought he’d be able to slip into the Slytherin common room right behind Adrian Pucey.

There was a tense moment where he was sure that he’d been caught - Pucey stopped, stared right at him and said “Hey!” But it turned out one of Pucey’s friends was standing right behind him. Pucey actually held the door open for her, and that made getting in past them very easy.

The Slytherin common room looked different from how Harry remembered it. He tried to figure out what had changed since he and Ron has snuck in during Second Year, but it was hard to put his finger on anything specific. The cool stone, the green lamps and the fire were all the same, but something about the place felt.... cozier. He glanced at the Map again. He still needed to find Draco.

The fourth-year Slytherin boys’ dormitory was pretty similar to his own. Trunks and four-poster beds, only in green instead of red, and laid out in a row instead of a circle. Harry pushed open the heavy door only to hear snoring, and see the faint ghostly light of a lumos coming from behind the curtains of the second bed in. Beyond that, everything faded to blackness. Much too dark to use the Map, and see which bed was Draco’s. 

Thankfully the carpet was thick enough that Harry could move silently. He took time to let his eyes adjust. Got a shock when he realized that the underwater scene of algae and rocks wasn’t actually a painting, but a huge window that looked out into the lake. Then his focus shifted. Next to the window, leaning in the corner by the very last bed... was Draco's Nimbus 2001. Carefully, Harry made his way over. It was lucky that Draco was the furthest in. It meant that Harry would be harder to spot, when he stood between the bed and the stone wall. 

Standing there swathed in the Cloak, Harry pulled apart the bedcurtains. He’d expected that would wake up Draco the way it did Ron, but no. Now he was looking at Draco's peaceful sleeping face, his hair startlingly white against dark pillows. Harry realized that he wasn’t sure how to get him up without surprising him. Maybe he could just leave the cloak? But then Draco would be stuck just wondering how it got there.

"Draco," Harry whispered, cloak still on. 

"Mmm?" Draco turned on his side, mostly still asleep. 

Harry tried again, a little louder. "Draco!"  

Immediately Draco was sitting bolt upright, eyes huge. Before diving for the wand under his pillow.

"No, no. It's me." Harry stuck his head out of the cloak. 

Draco grabbed him. One hand went over his mouth, the other went to his shoulder, hauling him up and through the bedcurtains with a flump. Draco stuck his head out into the dormitory, looked around, then pulled his thick bed-hangings very decidedly closed.

"Muffliato!” he hissed. "Potter... what... what are you... are you insane? Did someone put you up to this? Is this some kind of demented Gryffindor prank? How did you even get in..." With the bedcurtains drawn, it was almost completely black. Only Draco's face and hair were pale enough to see. 

Harry grinned. Took the Invisibility Cloak off completely so he wasn't just a floating head. "I brought your cloak." 

Draco stared at him blankly. "You brought my..."

"Your cloak." Harry thrust it into Draco’s arms. "You left it with me." 

"You know that doesn't answer my question. My cloak? You could have given it back to me after Care of Magical Creatures tomorrow." 

Harry shrugged. Still grinning. He’d thought it might be harder to give it back out in the open where everyone could see. But that felt less important now. 

Draco fell back heavily against the headboard, sucking in a deep breath. "You're lucky you didn't set off any of the jinxes on the trunk. Or that I didn't hex you. Is this the kind of behavior all your friends are subjected to?" 

Harry thought Draco actually seemed a little impressed.

Draco reached out, to rub a fold of the Invisibility Cloak between his fingers. “That is an excellent cloak,” he admitted. 

"Thanks. It was my dad's." That was Harry's favorite part. 

"I suppose that explains… how you got in here."

"Yeah. I sneak out all the time." Harry knew he was exaggerating but wanted to sound more cool and interesting. "So… what classes do you have tomorrow?"

"And why do you want to know?" 

Harry shrugged. "There's room under the Cloak for two people. We could, er...." he hadn't really thought this far ahead. "I dunno. We could sneak into the kitchens? Or… I don't think they have class in the Astronomy tower tonight. We could go there?" It was only after he’d spoken that he realized that this might count as asking Draco on a date.

Draco's lips parted. Taking in what Harry had said. 

"Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah. All right."

Now Harry was glad he hadn’t planned too far ahead. He never would have expected Draco to say yes. 

"Yeah?" 

Draco was wearing his pajamas, and so was he. That didn’t have to mean anything. Harry and Ron sat in the common room in pajamas and jumpers all the time. But at the same time, it felt different.

"Yeah. Why not,” said Draco. “It's not like we're going to get caught, wearing that. Might as well get the full Harry Potter experience." 

That made Harry blush, although he wasn’t sure why. "If we sneak into the kitchens you'll be nice to the house elves?" 

"Actually - you know that Dobby works here, now. I heard that he works here. He probably wouldn't want to... to see me."

Just the fact that Draco even cared what Dobby wanted had Harry reaching out and squeezing his hand. "Astronomy Tower then?" 

In order for two people to stay hidden under the Cloak, it was important to stand very close together and walk very slowly. Even through their thick jumpers, Harry kept getting distracted by how warm Draco was, and by how much he smelled like vanilla. Standing so close that their cheeks almost touched, he double and triple checked the Map to make sure they weren’t about to run into anyone. Peeves was bouncing around the Trophy Room, and Filch was patrolling over by the One-Eyed Witch. Snape was still in bed, and the only other dot moving around was labeled Bartemius Crouch. Probably he was setting up something for the Tournament. Nothing else stood between them and the Astronomy Tower. 

Harry took Draco’s hand so he could tug him in the right direction. They didn't run into anybody, but Harry’s heart was still beating so fast by the time they got to the top of the tower that they might as well have been chased the entire way. 

Outside, the night air was cold and windy. But Draco cast a warming charm on the stone tower roof and lay down, folding his hands behind his head to look up at the stars. Harry sat next to him, letting his hand rest near Draco's elbow. The spell had made the stone feel like it’d been baking in the sun all day. 

"Consider me jealous that you can do this whenever you like,” said Draco. “Look, there. My constellation. It's clear tonight."

Harry couldn't tell what Draco was pointing to, but he looked up, pretending that he could. 

"Oh please,” said Draco. “The heated stones have got your glasses fogged up, you probably can't see your hand in front of your face." 

"Bet I could still catch the Snitch like this." But Harry did wipe them off. 

"Show-off," Draco muttered.

Harry grinned as he put his glasses back on. Now that the lenses were clear, he noticed Draco's jumper riding up a little. He looked up at the stars instead. 

Draco turned on his elbow to face him. “Now let's see that map you were using. What in Merlin's name was that?"  

"Right, okay. So you can't tell anyone..."

Carefully, Harry unfolded it between them on the warm stone. Probably wouldn’t’ve done it, if Draco hadn’t kept his other secret so well. Harry watched as Draco stared, trailing his glowing wand-tip over carefully-inked corridors, inspecting it closely.

"Oh Potter," he said reverently. "The potential this has. For gossip and blackmail alone..." he looked up, to meet Harry's eyes. "This is insanely complex magic. Where did you even get it?”

Normally Harry would have said Fred and George. But something about the way Draco was looking at him actually made him say - "My dad.” He took the Map back, folded it closed to show Draco the names. “He made it. With his friends, see?"

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," read Draco. 

"Professor Lupin helped. He left it with me at the end of last term.” 

"So I guess he's Moony? Because of the - werewolf thing?” Draco took a moment to inspect the writing closely. “I didn't know that he and your father were close." 

"Yeah. He knew my godfather too." Harry pointed to Padfoot, realizing too late that if Draco didn't know about Remus, then he definitely didn’t know about Sirius. 

"Your godfather?"

"Sirius Black." There was something about the warmth of the stones, and the way the wind ruffled Draco’s hair that made it feel safe to say that.

"Ah,” said Draco. “That's unfortunate. My godfather is Severus, which is a lot more useful." 

Harry’s knee-jerk response was to speak up in Sirius’ defense. But no one except him, Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore actually knew the details of how Sirius had escaped and remained on the run. He didn’t think he trusted Draco quite as much as that.

"Do you... like chocolate?" Draco rummaged in his pockets to cover the silence. "I have some."

"Really?" Harry hurried to put the Map away. "I - er, I mean yeah. Who doesn't?" 

He watched as Draco took out a box wrapped in gold foil, full of chocolates sitting in individual pieces of wax paper, frosting flowers blooming even as he looked at them. Draco took one himself, and set the rest between them. Laid back to eat it slowly, staring up at the stars. 

Harry couldn’t help but think Draco looked really pretty like this. His pale skin stood out in the moonlight as he lay, one arm tucked behind his head, hair softer and looser than he normally wore it. Harry watched him for what was definitely too long, before he remembered about the chocolate. 

Draco met his eyes. He’d been caught.

Harry took one of the chocolates and ate it to keep from saying anything embarrassing. 

"Potter..." said Draco, softly. His eyes flicked to Harry's mouth. "You know. If you wanted to, you could..." 

Harry's heart stopped. He’d thought that maybe they'd sit next to each other. Maybe he'd rest his head on Draco's shoulder. He felt himself blushing so hard that his face might have been on fire. Something in his stomach did an excited somersault.

"Only if you want," said Draco. Harry was a little mesmerized by the way his lips moved as he spoke. 

Harry realized he did. He really did.

He looked from Draco's lips to his eyes. Then back to his lips again. He leaned a little closer. 

Draco released a puff of breath, like he didn't quite believe it.

Then stuck out a hand right at Harry’s face. Harry pulled back, until he realized that Draco was just trying to take off his glasses. When they weren't in the way anymore, it sent a little jolt through Harry almost like electricity, when Draco brushed against his skin.

He moved closer. The air up here was cool, but the stone was warm. Draco was warm, and he was close enough for Harry to feel…

Draco held him steady. Leaned in. And then he touched Harry's lips with his own.

It felt like being struck by lightning. Like the electricity from before, but ten times as strong. It felt like being startled, if that little jolt of surprise were something happier. Harry’s heart fluttered. He couldn't keep from smiling. Which kind of ruined the kiss. 

Draco pulled back. He was smiling too.

"All right, Potter?" he said. He was still so close. "Or... Harry. I guess." 

Harry was smiling so much his face hurt. He still felt the kiss on his lips. 

"I like my name when you say it." He liked his name anyway, but it didn’t usually sound like that. 

"Yeah?" said Draco. Eyes bright. 

Harry leaned in to brush his lips over Draco's. The lightest kiss, but it sent excited shivers through him. Now it was Draco's smiling that sort of made the kiss not work. 

He couldn't believe it. He'd kissed a guy - he’d kissed Draco. And everything wasn't just okay. It was great.

"Let me... try that again," Draco said.

He leaned into Harry. Touched his jaw, and Harry could think of nothing else. Draco was warm, and brought their lips together for longer this time. Long enough for Harry to notice how soft his skin was. Harry didn't really know what he was supposed to do, but he also wasn't in a position to think about it much. 

Draco broke the kiss. Leaned back just to look at Harry, wearing an expression of intense satisfaction. Somehow his jumper over silk pajamas did not look the least bit silly. 

Then he darted in and kissed one more time, and - Harry could have sworn he tasted chocolate.

For a minute Harry was simply smiling, with eyes closed. Then he reached out for Draco's hand. He was pretty sure this meant they were dating. He'd hadn’t dated anyone before. He hadn't wanted to before.

"So... um...." said Draco. "Do you want to, you know. Tell people? I mean… we don't have to put an announcement in the Prophet, but you are a bit... high profile, right now. If you didn't want loads of people knowing right away - I'm not stupid, I know that you have a... a lot going on, at the moment." He shifted, looking away. "But I do like you, so."

Harry wanted to tell everyone. Sneaking back into Gryffindor and not being able to tell Ron was going to be hard. Except - maybe Ron was a bad example. There was no way he was going to take this well, either because Draco was a boy or because Draco was Draco. And he didn’t think he was ready for Sirius to know either. 

"I... I want to. But I'm - not yet." Still, he was so excited. Draco liked him. 

Draco squeezed his hand again. His grip felt strong and steady. "No, that makes sense."

"Yeah?" Harry hadn't expected Draco to get it so easily.

"Even without all that muggle business, which I don't pretend to understand... you're Harry Potter. People watch what you do. Have opinions on what you do. They have opinions about me too. Or my family, anyway."

Harry hadn't even considered that part. He didn't care what some random person reading the Prophet thought.

"Dating me... won't make you all that popular in Gryffindor tower. And if someone was trying to kill me, I would want to make sure I had as many allies on my side as possible." 

Harry squeezed Draco's hand again. It was nice, having someone consider things from his point of view.

"If anyone ever tries to say that I've been bewitching you - the Malfoys aren't actually part veela, that's just a stupid rumor."

Harry laughed. "I think about you way too much when you're not around for it to be a veela thing." 

"You do?”

"I mean, yeah." Harry realized how that sounded. He hadn't exactly meant it that way, but he also guessed… the more romantic way wasn't really wrong either.

"...I guess I do talk about you a lot," said Draco. "Maybe so much that sometimes people get annoyed." 

Harry wondered if Hermione would be surprised. Or if maybe she'd figured this out before him too. “We could meet up again at Hogsmeade," he said. There was no rule saying they couldn't be friends. 

"We can be... discreet,” said Draco. “And you can still visit over the holidays."

"You're sure that's okay?" 

"I have my friends over all the time.”

"But that’s your friends. I'm… I don't think your dad likes me much." Lucius Malfoy definitely did not seem like the sort of person who would be okay with letting him stay over. But he didn't seem like the kind of person who would let Professor Lupin stay over either, so Harry wasn’t sure what to think.

Draco, though, was looking uncomfortable.

"I don't want you to get in trouble,” said Harry, quickly.

“I won't get in trouble. My parents will probably tell me I've made a good ally. In a lot of ways... I guess it doesn't matter if Father likes you. He says that people think of you as the hero who defeated You-Know-Who. He has to be polite to you. But I’ll - I'll talk to him. I wouldn't invite you over unless I thought it was all right, and you would, you know. Enjoy your stay." 

Harry leaned over, and kissed him again. Just a quick one. "I'm going to have so much trouble paying attention in Hagrid's class tomorrow. And I like that class." Mostly. 

"If you bring that cloak,” said Draco. “We can lag behind and... hide in some trees... and you know."

Harry looked away, blushing. "Y-yeah. I will." 

Draco blushed too. He was pale enough that he had no way of hiding it. "Gryffindors are supposed to come over all chivalrous and daring. So far... I guess that sounds about right.”

Harry felt pretty daring. Sneaking out. Kissing Draco.

“You're still a madman for doing it this way though. Ambushing me in the middle of the night? I guess I shouldn’t complain about your methods though. It's not as though they don't work."  

Harry grinned. Let go of Draco's hand to pull out the Map, to check their way back.

"Going to walk me to my door?" said Draco. 

It was going to take them a while to get all the way back to the dungeons, and then back up to Gryffindor Tower. "Yeah," said Harry.  Filch was patrolling a little closer than he had been.

"You seem to... know what you're doing. Harry." 

"I do this a lot. There's all kinds of hidden passages I can show you."

"Oh, I think I made the right choice. When it came to kissing you."

Harry beamed. Then stood, and offered Draco his hand. "Come on. We should probably get some sleep."

Draco let Harry pull him to his feet, just a little wobbly. Harry tried to kiss him while he had the Cloak around his shoulders and was just a floating head. Ended up giggling too much.

It wasn’t long before Draco was laughing, too.

Chapter Text

Sirius wrote Harry a week later, with the news that he was back in England and wanted to meet up during the next Hogsmeade visit. It was rare enough to get a letter from Sirius, never mind a chance to actually see him, and Harry thought that if he put off introducing Draco now he’d probably have to wait until summer. He’d gotten a little more used to the idea of dating a guy… but it still felt very important that Sirius be the first one to officially meet Draco.

He spent the days leading up to the weekend absolutely vibrating with excitement. Harry was sure that once Draco actually met Sirius he’d be able to see that he wasn’t bad or dangerous, but also suspected that the words ‘we are going to see Sirius Black’ would be too much for him to handle. Instead, he’d just told Draco that there was someone he wanted him to meet, and then told Sirius to maybe not bring Buckbeak. Draco had history with Buckbeak. 

On the day of, Harry found himself wondering if he maybe should have done more. He kept catching himself looking over his shoulder to reassure himself that Draco was still following, and hadn’t gotten cold feet. 

"I don't like surprises,” Draco said, as they picked their way through the Hogsmeade side streets. Which wasn’t actually true, if their date to the astronomy tower was anything to go by. “I've met Granger, remember? And I've met Weasley. Who isn't actually speaking to you. I know everyone you know, you don't actually know that many people." He nervously adjusted his bag. “Am I going to regret this?"

“Nah. We’re meeting the coolest person I know."

“I’ve already met Viktor Krum.”

Harry grinned. "It's not Krum.”

“Where are we going at least? Specifically. ”

"Just to the edge of town. Come on." He wanted to grab Draco's hand as they walked, but there were still too many people around. Draco glared a little at some younger students tittering behind their hands, but Harry was mostly used to that by now. He wasn’t that popular outside Gryffindor at the moment: the Ravenclaws thought he’d cheated his way into the Tournament, the Hufflepuffs thought he was stealing attention from Cedric, and the Slytherins were the Slytherins. Anyway, he could always walk around wearing the Invisibility Cloak if things got too bad.

They reached the edge of town. Then all thoughts of his popularity, the Tournament, and even Draco were pushed from Harry’s mind. Because a huge black dog was standing there, waiting for him.

Draco stared down at the dog. The dog stared back.

“Is this a joke?”  

"It's not a joke!” Harry turned to Sirius. “Don’t worry, you can trust him."

The dog looked at Harry, and then at Draco. A moment later it bounded off into the boulders, past the grasses and tall rocks surrounding the village. Harry watched Draco’s expression turn impossibly skeptical.

“It'll all make sense,” said Harry. “I promise." 

Saying this did not make Draco appear any more confident. But he did at least follow as Sirius led them out of Hogsmeade, down into a hollow ringed by an old ruined wall tall enough to block out any onlookers. Then the dog got to the bottom, and shook out his fur. 

All of a sudden - it wasn't a dog standing in front of them. Sirius Black was right there, looking healthier and all around better than Harry had ever seen him. Even if he was also a bit battered, like he’d been sleeping rough for a few days.

Draco shot off a jellylegs jinx and ran.  

Harry’s first unhelpful thought was how come Draco’s reflexes couldn’t be that good when he played Quidditch.

"Wait!" he yelled. "Draco!"

Draco was fast. He dived out of sight behind the wall, stumbled, kept on going. But Harry was faster. 

"Draco, stop! He didn't do it!" He sprinted, gaining ground, gaining momentum, getting himself almost within tackling distance. Draco glanced over his shoulder but the movement slowed him down enough for Harry to lunge. He tackled Draco to the ground, and the two of them went tumbling down a grassy incline. 

When they finally stopped moving, breathless and covered in grass, Draco was lying flat on his back with Harry on top. Harry slapped a hand over his mouth. 

"It wasn't him. He was framed. It was Pettigrew. Pettigrew killed those muggles. He disguised himself as Ron's rat for years. Sirius never hurt anyone."

Draco's eyes, the only part of his face visible, bulged. He glared, and tried to struggle up, but Harry had him pinned. 

“Are you going to at least talk to my godfather?” The longer Harry thought about it, the more he realized that he maybe ought to have given Draco some type of warning. He took his hand off his mouth in apology. “I told you that you hadn’t met him.” 

"You - you are insane - " Draco groaned and banged his head against the ground for emphasis. "Why do I like you?"

Harry couldn’t help the grin that was spreading across his face.

"It's not funny! I was terrified." Draco’s face was pink, and his white hair was everywhere.

"Do you promise not to run away if I let you up?"

"You deserve a leg-locker jinx at least."  

Harry took the threat as a good sign. He stopped pinning quite so securely, and Draco did not in fact make a break for it.

"So,” Draco said, in a voice of very deep suffering. “Your godfather is innocent, because Weasley's pet rat did it?" 

"Yeah. Want to meet him?" 

"Is this normal for you? Is this just how your life works?"

Harry shrugged.

"You could fancy centaurs and it wouldn't be in the top fifty strangest things about you."

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. So instead, he tried fixing Draco’s hair. Quickly realized he didn’t know what he was doing, and was just making things worse.

"All right," said Draco, with a dramatic huff, waving him off. "Let's go meet your godfather. If he kills me I will come back as a ghost, and I will haunt you for the rest of your life." He winced as he stood, then did a flurry of spells that had his hair and his clothes lying perfectly straight again. Shot Harry a dirty look.

"You go first."

Sirius was waiting right where they left him, transformed once again into a dog. He gave Harry a look which might have been reproachful, or might have just been his face, then started padding off into the wild highlands surrounding Hogsmeade.

The three of them hiked up a rocky hill, now quite far from the village. The black dog led the way, and for a while all Harry could see ahead of them was a blank, rocky cliffside. Until the dog completely, without any warning - vanished. When Harry tried to follow in the direction he had gone, there was the strangest sensation of walking through gel. It was a feeling that only lasted a second before - he popped through on the other side.

Harry was in a cave. Human Sirius was standing right in front of him. 

Draco had felt the strange consistency in the air too, but immediately drawn back. Before he could panic, and before Sirius could say anything, Harry leaned through the magical barrier to show Draco his arm, and clasped a hand around his wrist to pull him through. 

Now they were both in there, standing side by side. Sirius was taking his time looking at Draco. Harry couldn’t bring himself to let go of Draco’s hand. 

Sirius dropped his wand to the cave floor and leaned back against the rock face, palms open and visible. "You must be Lucius Malfoy's son," he said, in his raspy voice. "You look exactly like him."

Draco stayed stock-still and quiet, standing behind Harry.

"So… where are Ron and Hermione?" asked Sirius. 

"They're back in Hogsmeade. Because I wanted you to… to meet Draco." 

Harry’s heart was racing. He watched Sirius’ dark eyes. Took in the faint furrow of his brow, the hint of coldness that crossed his features. He was holding Draco’s hand too tightly, but couldn’t stop. His knees had gone wobbly. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. 

"Harry, are you all right?"

"Draco-and-I-are-dating."

“The two of you are dating?” said Sirius, and Harry could not read his expression. “What - Harry, you’re acting like I’m about to disown you. If you were worried about dating a Slytherin…" 

Oh no. Harry clamped down even harder on Draco's hand. Blinked, and blinked again, furiously. Draco could probably feel him shaking as he braced for whatever it was Sirius said next. Sirius was his dad’s best friend. He didn’t care that Draco was in Slytherin but he obviously wasn’t happy about this. Maybe wizards did care about liking boys. Maybe Sirius cared. Maybe his dad cared. 

Harry's heart was going to beat out of his chest entirely.

"Harry..." said Sirius, again. "Did you not hear me? Date whoever you like, there’s no need -  did you really think I was going to - I wasn’t friendly with his father but I would never forbid you to - " 

Harry looked at him for a second before completely understanding his words. When what Sirius actually said was able to make it through... he let go of Draco and flung his arms around his godfather.

Sirius held him there, against his shoulder. Stroked his back, as Harry took shaky breaths and gripped so tight it probably hurt.

"That's it," said Sirius. "You're all right. Everything’s all right."

It was embarrassing, breaking down like this in front of Draco. But Harry couldn't actually help it. 

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Harry wished he didn’t sound so hysterical. Everything was fine. Better than fine. 

"You haven't been telling him horror stories, have you?” said Sirius, over Harry’s head. “The Malfoy-Black feud ended years ago.” 

"I know that!" Draco burst out. "Mother is a Black, we're intermarried. And Father was never officially charged with anything,” he added, primly.

Harry shook his head. He was smiling so hard, and couldn’t talk well enough to explain. Sirius ruffled his hair, in a gesture that felt so much like something Bill or Charlie would do it made his heart burst. 

"I know I was the one Black sorted into Gryffindor, but I've known many fine Slytherins. Like Cousin Andromeda, and Uncle Alphard, and... Slughorn wasn't so bad..."

Harry laughed. "The problem is he's in Slytherin!"

“No - of course not - ” 

“You're not mad I'm gay!"

"I'm not mad you're what?"

"I think this is some kind of muggle thing," contributed Draco, helpfully. 

Harry couldn’t stop his strange nervous laughter, and hadn't let go of Sirius, not even slightly. "You're not mad I like guys."

"Harry. Why would I... I was with Remus Lupin for years, did you not...? I guess you didn't pick up on that."

Harry shook his head. He'd had no idea. "Can I stay with you this summer?" Sirius was his godfather. Maybe that counted as family enough that Dumbledore would let him. 

"Harry, I…” Sirius’ voice was thick, and he hugged Harry to him even more tightly. “I would give anything to do that. Anything in the entire world. But I'm on the run, I'm still a wanted man. I'm sorry. I'm trying to catch Pettigrew and clear my name. I'm doing the best I can." 

Harry let go just enough to wipe his face. "I know. I'm sorry I asked. It’s fine." The Dursleys were probably still too scared to read his mail, but he'd be careful anyway. If they knew he was both a wizard and a fag things could get really bad. 

"Merlin," said Sirius. "I want to drain the family vault, grab you and just run. But I know I can't." 

Harry smiled. The fact he still wanted to, even after finding out about him and Draco - was enough. 

Sirius just held him close, like he was never going to let him go. "Now..." he said gently. "I'm trying to figure out who put your name in the Goblet, and get it all straightened out. I think there's someone in Hogwarts who shouldn't be, someone pretending to be someone else. Did you bring the Map?" 

Harry detached from Sirius, and pulled the Map out of his pocket. Glad for a topic that let things get back to normal. 

Sirius turned the paper over in his hands. "Never thought I'd see this again. Feels like I made it a lifetime ago." 

Harry glanced at Draco.

"What?"

"I told you he was cool."

"Fine. Yeah. I guess he's pretty cool."

The sun was dipping by the time they left Sirius' cave, and it was going to be dark by the time they reached Hogsmeade. Draco walked quietly beside Harry, who was trying not to watch him too much. But he couldn't keep the smile off his face entirely.

"I'd like to tell my parents about you," said Draco, abruptly. "Make sure they're used to the idea, before I have you over this summer."

"Okay." Sirius' reaction had Harry feeling a lot less worried. He might even tell Ron and Hermione soon.

"And Severus -” Draco stopped, then started again. “I know you don't like him, but he's my godfather. He likes to know about the sort of things I'm doing."

Harry had been smiling at the ground, but now looked up. "He’ll give me a hard time in class over it."

"He won't. He likes men too, I'm pretty sure. And if he tries, well. We can stand up and walk out together."

Harry looked around. When he didn't see anybody watching them, he bumped Draco with his shoulder. 

"Okay."

Draco bumped him back.

Even if Snape did say something awful, he knew this had been the right choice.

Chapter Text

Ever since becoming Champion, Harry had gotten into the habit of going down to breakfast early. Class was already too full of people either congratulating him or giving him dirty looks, so the fewer people in the Great Hall the better. Hermione usually joined, as a way to thank him for spending so much of his free time sitting with her in the library. But one Wednesday in the third week of November, they came to a full stop when they heard - 

"Harry! " And then - "You too, Granger."

Harry turned to see Draco half-leaning out of an empty classroom, gesturing. 

A second later they were both dragged into a room that was being used to store all of Lockhart's Valentine’s decorations from second year. Draco was ignoring the occasional dusty puff of sparkles spat at him by the pink rosettes, his face even whiter than usual as he clutched a magazine with a violently magenta letterhead. Hermione looked at him, curiously. Draco’s eyes went back and forth between them, before finally settling on Harry.

"I swear I didn't say anything."  

"What are you talking about?"

Draco folded the magazine over to a center page, and thrust it in Harry's direction. Hermione intercepted it before Harry had a chance to read the headline, but not before he’d caught a glimpse of his own face blinking back from the article. 

"Hermione. What - " She was frowning. Harry didn't like that at all.

"All right,” she said, after scanning the page. “It could be worse." 

"What could be worse!" Harry grabbed the magazine and squinted. "Harry Potter's Secret Romance?"

"Witch Weekly. It’s a gossip rag, Harry," said Hermione, but he hardly heard her as he kept reading.

"’This correspondent can now exclusively confirm that the rebellious streak we have seen from our favorite fourth Champion has pushed him straight into the arms of one - "  Harry stopped. Looked at Draco. He didn't know if he wanted to read the rest, or just hide in this horrible storage room forever. Hermione was looking at him expectantly, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to continue, she pulled the paper from his limp hands and started again from the top. Matter of factly, and without any embellishments:

HARRY POTTER’S SECRET ROMANCE

This correspondent can now exclusively confirm that the rebellious streak we have seen from our favorite fourth Champion has pushed him straight into the arms of one Draco Malfoy - the pureblood prince at the center of werewolf rumors, ministry raids, and a long-standing feud with our favorite. 

“They couldn’t stand each other until maybe a month ago,” says Pansy Parkinson, Draco’s close confidant. “They even had a duel. But they both play Seeker, so maybe it’s about that.” 

“Guess they’re both running around being famous together,” says Ronald Weasley, a fourth year student. “Try to hide it, you know. But they’re always together.” 

What to make of these reports? Witch Weekly brings you the exclusive scoop that Harry and Draco met in Hogsmeade village for a romantic date at the picturesque Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop, where they shared a Succulent Sampling Stack, although their idyllic evening was cut short by some kind of mysterious argument. What happened while our two lovebirds snuck out of the village remains to be seen, but Harry was seen bravely holding back tears on his way to rejoin his classmates. One would hope that Draco Malfoy is not the dark heartbreaker his father was, and is treating Potter, who has suffered so much, with care.

This begs the question - has romance blossomed on the Quidditch pitch, or is something else afoot? “Malfoy gets decent grades in potions,” says popular student Lee Jordan. “He’s kind of the teacher’s pet. That time he summoned a snake out of nowhere was pretty crazy. Never seen that spell before.”

A facility with potions, some darkly dangerous Malfoy family spells, and icy good looks that bring to mind our French Veela champion - it seems that Harry will face one extra challenge during this already challenging year.

Harry’s panic didn't subside until the quote from Ron. So Ron knew about him and Draco, and was still mostly mad about the Tournament? Hermione was right. It could have been a lot worse.

"I'm sorry you got outed like that," Hermione said quietly. "I knew, but I thought you'd tell me when you were ready. It's not okay to out people."

Harry looked at her, confused. Hermione shrugged. "I have an uncle."

"So," said Draco. "We need to set our story straight. We can deny everything. We can go public, and act like we were never hiding anything and people were just being dense. Or you know. We can let Professor Lupin teach us out of the Manor until we're able to transfer to Durmstrang."

"You can't do that!" interjected Hermione. "You'll never get accepted into a Ministry job if you're homeschooled! Even for just part of a year!" She looked horrified.

"Well Granger. I'm never going to have a Ministry job. So your point's kind of academic."

Harry couldn't help smiling. "It's fine, Hermione. We won't leave school."

She looked as though she was trying to gauge his truthfulness. "Promise?"

"I promise. It's - this - maybe this can be a good thing?" Harry looked to Draco again, who nodded once, reassuringly.

Convinced they weren't about to jeopardize their academic futures, Hermione went back to thumbing through the magazine. She did not seem impressed with whatever she found there.

"Whatever else happens, you should really give someone an interview,” said Draco. “Get ahead of it. Because if you act like you have something to hide, people will go digging, and they might start noticing things like the giant black dog you hang around with." 

Harry nodded. That decided it. "We'll go public. I was going to anyway, just not... yet." 

Draco found his hand and squeezed it. "I know. I didn't want it to happen like - " 

"Does Witch Weekly have a competitor?" asked Hermione.

"There's the Quibbler,” said Draco, pivoting. “They have the reputation for being insane. That Ravenclaw girl with the crazy earrings, a year below us. Her father runs it. And there's Bewitchment Magazine. I think my mother knows the society editor from - somewhere." 

"Not the Quibbler. That's not a look we want. We want credible. Bewitchment Magazine's well respected?"

"Maybe too well respected. A lot of people think it's stuffy and boring." 

"Perfect." Hermione snapped Witch Weekly closed. "I think I’m skipping breakfast. I have a letter to write."

"We should go to breakfast, though.” Draco looked pointedly at Harry. "Together."

"Yeah, okay." That did make Harry nervous. But so far, nobody had responded like it was weird he was dating a guy. Just that he was dating Draco.

"You’re sure you won't join us, Granger?"

"If they're so desperate to spread rumors about people, you and I talking is probably newsworthy too." She shook her head in absolute disgust, and left the room muttering about journalistic integrity. 

Reading the article in that awful storeroom had eaten up the time Harry normally used to eat, so the Great Hall was already full when he and Draco stood outside it, looking in. The day's owls were arriving and Harry saw Witch Weekly magenta dotted here and there in amongst the cloud of brown and grey. 

"Now the question is," said Draco. "Slytherin or Gryffindor table?"

Harry looked at Ron’s face, and knew. "Gryffindor. If you're okay with it?"

Draco lifted his chin, steeled himself, and nodded. "All right."

Harry took a deep breath, then took Draco's hand and headed towards his usual spot. Scooted over so there was enough room for him to sit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lavender and Parvati with their heads together, giggling, and stealing glances over at them. Parvati leaned across the aisle to pass Padma over at the Ravenclaw table a magenta magazine. Then Harry was aware of some shoving and adjusting as the twins stood, picked up their food, and plopped themselves down on either side of Draco and Harry. 

"Hello," said one.

"Who's this?"

"Are you lost?"

"He doesn't look lost."

"No, he doesn't." 

"I'm Fred." Fred - Harry was reasonably sure it was Fred - extended a hand.

"And I am also Fred,” said George. "What brings you to our table this fine morning?" They said that part more or less in unison.

"Do you plan out the bits you do in advance?" said Draco. "I've always wondered." 

"A magician never reveals his secrets," George grinned.

Draco very slowly and deliberately dragged a pitcher of pumpkin juice over in front of him.

"Oi! Harry!" called Alicia Spinnet, from down the table. "You going to be able to fly properly against your boyfriend? Or should we look in at getting one of the Creevy brothers in to replace you?"

"He's going to kick Malfoy's arse," Fred shot back.

Draco sniffed. "I wouldn't date someone who wasn't a challenge."

"I'm still a better Seeker." Harry called over.

"Only because he's on a Firebolt," said Draco. 

"What?" said a loud voice, other end of the table. "He really thinks he can properly fly one of those? Maybe he has the reflexes, I’ll give you that, but you need nerves of steel to handle a broom like that properly. It's a mental game. If Potter's going to let some Slytherin ponce get him crying, then that's the Cup lost already."

"Shut it, Cormac," Ron snapped.

"Just another reason why Cedric is the better champion," said Zachariah Smith from the Hufflepuff table, a little too loudly. 

"What's dating a Slytherin got to do with being Champion?" Justin Finch-Fletchley asked, also loudly. "We all know Cedric's better. But if there's a Quidditch task then Potter has him beat. And Krum beats them both." 

"If Potter gets disqualified for cheating, don't say I didn't warn you."

Harry folded in a little. Searched for Draco's hand under the table.

"It's one or the other, Smith," Draco called over. "Either he’s going to crack under the pressure, or cheat to get every advantage. It can't be both. And if there was anything besides wet tissue paper in your head, you'd know it's neither."  

The twins looked at each other, over Harry and Draco's heads. 

"We like him."

"Do you think they'll let him switch?"

"Probably not. Besides, we want Slytherin to stand a chance."

"Very true, Also Fred. Beating them wouldn't be nearly as fun otherwise."

Trusting Fred and George to take up most of the attention sent their way, Harry started transferring food to his plate. When Draco didn't do anything more interesting than be politely arch, and take it in stride whenever someone asked the 'pureblood prince' or 'dark heartbreaker' to pass the sausages - everyone gradually began to lose interest. Ron still wasn't talking to him. But he wasn't glaring either, and had defended him against Cormac. 

The first bell rang. "I've got to get to Divination," said Draco. "I'll see you - I'll see you later,  I guess. Harry." 

"Yeah, I'll- Yeah." Harry didn’t know what he was supposed to do, or say - but Draco made the choice for him. He bent his head, and kissed Harry's cheek. 

Then straightened up. Hefted his bag over one shoulder. Strode to the doorway, where he quickly fell in with a pack of Slytherins.

Harry kept his eyes fixed on the table. He knew he was blushing. Just hoped no one else noticed.

The next day he sat with the Slytherins, and Draco began to get anonymous hate-mail.

He didn’t open any of the mail himself. He left those honors mostly to Blaise Zabini, who had extremely fine control with a wingardium leviosa, and could open envelopes and unfold letters without touching them. This proved to be an extremely good precaution, as one of the envelopes was filled with undiluted bubotuber pus, the kind that made your hands swell up into blisters when you touched it.

The Slytherins seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, reading out the letters and passing the best ones down the table. Only Pansy Parkinson was having less fun than the others, but even she got into the spirit by the end.

"You wicked boy. Harry Potter deserves better. Your dark ways will bring you to a sticky end. Oh, wait no, this one’s better. I read in Witch Weekly about how you are tormenting Harry Potter and that boy has had enough hardship. Know that I will be reporting you to Albus Dumbledore for poisoning that poor sweet boy with love potion." Theodore Nott looked up. "Has your potion brewing gotten dramatically better over the last few days, Draco?"

Draco just grinned, and placidly leaned back, letting it all go on around him. Mostly, the Slytherins seemed to think it was funny. Only one letter used the sort of language Harry had come to expect from Uncle Vernon, but that one just seemed to confuse them, and got tossed to the side as boring. 

"Do feel free to open the rest of my mail," said Draco, standing. "Anything important will be coming from one of the family owls. But Harry and I need to finish up some work before Potions." Which wasn't actually true. Potions wasn’t for another hour and Snape had been going light on the homework lately.

Only once they were out of the Great Hall, in a mostly-empty hallway, could Harry tell that Draco wasn't quite as unbothered as he had been acting. 

"Sorry about those letters,” he said, and found Draco’s hand.

"Oh please. It’s not your fault. I'm a Malfoy, we get bad press on occasion.” Draco squeezed his fingers. “Dating you will only improve my reputation in the long run. Which isn’t why I'm doing it, of course."

"You don't actually think I think that?"

"That was a joke, Potter."

"Okay good."

"Father would say all this is only to be expected, and it’s part of the family image. But... I'd still like to talk to him about it. I'd like to talk to my parents." Draco looked up at Harry’s face. "Oh - I didn't mean..." 

Harry rolled his eyes. "You can talk about your parents, you know."

"I know. Only, you seemed a little Confunded back there, and my house was going easier on us than yours did. I just…” he seemed to regret starting this conversation. "Weasley is ignoring you, and Granger is Granger, and I just… if you needed someone to talk to..." 

Harry looked down the hallway, and when he didn't see anybody coming, gave Draco a hug. It didn't last as long as he would've liked because he didn't want to push his luck. It was still nice. They stood like that, until the bell rang.

Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy,

It has come to my attention that the magazine Witch Weekly has published a piece announcing the relationship between my friend and your son. This is highly unprofessional of them considering both of their legal status as children and Harry’s particular background.

There are people in muggle society who believe that only men and women should love each other, and that any other combination is wrong. These people have a great deal of influence in muggle society. As such the public disclosure of same sex attraction can put people at considerable risk from those who wish them harm. Therefore, the decision to share such personal information about himself would have felt very dangerous to Harry, even though those same views are not as prevalent among wizards. But regardless of the actual risks involved, it should have been Harry’s choice to make. I had figured out about Harry and Draco’s relationship, as did several others, but we were waiting for Harry to be ready. 

For the unscrupulous and unethical Witch Weekly to take that choice away from him is unforgivable. If you decide to go the route that Draco has suggested of contacting a publication for Draco and Harry to give an interview, I strongly urge against allowing Witch Weekly the chance to further benefit from their own lack of integrity. 

Harry Potter is not a thing to be gawked at, he is a human being who should be afforded the same basic dignity as anyone else. He did not choose to become a public figure, but Witch Weekly does not care. 

I urge you to consider giving an exclusive interview to a respectable publication such as Bewitchment Magazine or to give none at all.

Sincerely,

Hermione Jean Granger

Dear Miss Granger,

I admit I was surprised to receive your letter, as I believe we have met only very briefly at the Quidditch World Cup. Still, my son does talk about you, and I am aware of both your intelligence and your friendship with Harry Potter. 

If Draco and Harry do wish to give an interview - perhaps educating those from wizard society of these muggle stigmas, framing their relationship in a more positive light, or turning the conversations towards whatever ethical causes they are currently interested in, I am sure that my friend Xenia Robards over at Bewitchment will be interested. 

I leave it to Draco to envision the ideal response, or to remain silent. You seem passionate and informed, and I am sure your help will be invaluable. 

Yours &c

Narcissa Malfoy 

Dear Narcissa Malfoy and Professor Lupin,

I agree that the attention an interview from Harry and Draco will bring could be better used than simply bringing to light the questionable journalism of Witch Weekly, which should be self-evident anyway. 

If Professor Lupin agrees, I would like to visit the weekend of the full moon for an interview with Xenia Robards for Bewitchment. It would allow for the world to see that werewolves are not dangerous on Wolfsbane and give them something to talk about beyond just speculating on Harry’s personal life. By the time you receive this letter I will have taken the opportunity to discuss my plans with Professor Dumbledore. 

Sincerely, 

Hermione Granger

Chapter Text

Ever since the release of the Witch Weekly article, Hermione had been spending every spare minute trying to arrange an interview with Bewitchment Magazine. The purpose of this, she said, was to ‘change the narrative’ by focusing on werewolf rights instead of ‘unethical, mean-spirited gossip.’ This was something Draco happily went along with, although he wanted photographs of himself and Harry posing with the transformed wolf. These would be shocking enough to make the fact that they were a couple boring by comparison, but did mean that the Bewitchment interview had to take place at Malfoy Manor. Specifically, it needed to happen during the weekend of the full moon, when Lupin was transformed.

Dumbledore was all for this. Hermione made an appointment to submit her request for off-grounds privileges, nervous that her interview wasn’t a good enough reason, but he had loved everything about her idea. Actually, Dumbledore was the one who suggested they stay for the full two days rather than the handful of hours Hermione had originally asked for, and he even encouraged them to take Ron along. That part didn’t end up happening: Ron might still have been too mad at Harry, or else his parents hated the Malfoys too much to let him go. Either way, in the end it was just Harry, Draco, and Hermione. Although Ron had agreed to take care of Hedwig while they were gone, which Harry thought was a positive sign.

On Saturday morning Harry shovelled down his breakfast and went straight to the entrance gate flanked by winged boars. He was bringing his Firebolt, since Draco had said there was good flying at his house, and had thrown a change of clothes in his school bag at the last second. He was a little worried he’d underpacked when he saw Hermione, her bag stuffed so full it was amazing it was all still in one piece. She’d brought enough to stay for a month. But when he asked about it Hermione just rolled her eyes and said that while he spent his time flying, she would be using the famous Malfoy library to add historical context to her Arithmancy project.

As Harry stood next to her in the brilliant morning sun, he thought about meeting Draco's parents. Draco had assured him, dozens of times, that his father would be polite. But the truth was that Harry didn’t like Lucius Malfoy, and knew that Lucius Malfoy didn’t like him either. He had no idea what to expect from Draco’s mum. She didn’t seem anything like Mrs. Weasley, but she didn’t seem much like Aunt Petunia either.

Draco turned up a few minutes later. Nimbus in hand, wind catching his robes, and not bothering to pack any extra clothes at all. 

"We are supposed to be meeting Severus, aren't we?” he said. “By the gates?"

"That's what Professor Dumbledore told me," said Hermione, bouncing with anticipation. 

A crack startled Harry so much that he dropped his broom. Bent down for it, only to look up - and be confronted by Snape, right on the other side of the school gate. Glowering.

"Severus!" said Draco.

Snape glowered at him slightly less, then opened the gate with a flick of his wand. "This way. Do try to keep a hold on your things. I will not be returning for them."

Harry stepped off the official school grounds, but this only made Snape stare at him impatiently. Then keep on staring. Half a minute passed before Harry began to suspect that there was maybe something he was supposed to be doing. Then Draco wrapped his hand around Snape's arm and Hermione exclaimed - "Oh! I've never apparated before! They won't let us learn until we're seventeen." 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Do you imagine I am unaware of this, Granger?" 

"I was talking to Harry." Hermione put a hand on Snape's other arm.

Harry was still confused. "So, do I-"

Snape made an irritated noise and grabbed Harry's shoulder. 

It felt like he was being squished and compressed, but also pulled in ways he was pretty sure humans were not meant to move. Then, just as suddenly as the unpleasant squeezing sensation had started - it stopped. Harry found himself standing outside another set of gates, swaying slightly. Hermione looked extremely queasy, and while he didn't feel great, at least he was pretty sure he was hiding it better than her.

Draco had obviously travelled this way before, and seemed entirely unbothered. He stood tall, surrounded by wrought iron as delicate as lace, and said grandly - "Enter freely and under no obligation." 

The bars behind him turned to smoke. Harry stepped through as quickly as he could, with the strangest feeling that what those bars really wanted was to close in around him. Snape swept off towards the house while Hermione lagged behind to inspect them, apparently quite comfortable now she’d shaken off her nausea. Harry wondered if she truly was as unbothered as she seemed. They all knew how Lucius Malfoy felt about muggleborns.

"So this is the Manor," said Draco, gesturing around at a lawn and gardens bigger than the entire zoo Harry had once visited with the Dursleys. "The first stone was laid in 1066 by Armand Malfoy. But a lot of the additions came later."

"That's before the Statute of Secrecy!" Hermione sounded delighted, and Draco looked pleased.

"Much before. I had ancestors who rode dragons for William the Conqueror. And he was a muggle, of course." The central path was lined on both sides by fancy trimmed hedges, and Harry fell into step with Draco, happy to let Hermione dominate the conversation. It was hard to believe anyone actually lived here. This was the kind of place you came and visited on some sort of tour.

A snow-white peacock glided down in front of him. "Don't mind them -" Draco began, but Harry had already handed over his Firebolt so he could bend down and say hello.

"I wish I had something to feed you,” he told the white bird, who reminded him quite a lot of Hedwig. He hoped she was okay with Ron. “I’ll be back with something later. Okay?" 

Inside the house, everything was dark, sleek, and sharp. Towering portraits of wizards in old-fashioned clothing blinked down - wizards who looked a lot like Draco. The three of them walked across the black marble floor, footsteps echoing, and Harry felt even more like he ought to be here with someone holding a clipboard and a flag.

Draco paused in front of a painting of a woman wearing an insane number of pearls and a wide lace ruff.

 "Great-Aunt Domitia? Where are Mother and Father?"

"Thy parents await’st thee anon, in the Blue Parlor," said the witch. "And who hast thou brought with thee this day?" 

Draco gestured. "This is Harry. He can fly like you wouldn't believe, and also he's defeated a Dark Lord. We're together."

"A sportsman and a duelist!" said the picture, delighted.

"And Hermione's a..." Draco's eyes flicked over to her. "Scholar."

"Then thou must make’st use of the library, for ‘twas I who first expanded it to the dimensions it today doth enjoy." 

Hermione’s eyes got big. “Then you must be Lady Domitia Malfoy-Abbott. You saved Queen Elizabeth the First from being poisoned by a cursed saddlecloth!”

“’Twas I indeed.” The portrait looked pleased. “The cloth itself remaineth on display, on the wall of the library yonder.”

"Come on," said Draco, taking Harry's arm. Hermione was already lost in excited conversation with the portrait. "Great-Aunt Domitia will be talking about that for ages. And then she’ll get into why she thought it was a good idea to organize all the books in the library by color..." 

 Hermione lived for this sort of thing. Harry didn't feel especially bad about leaving her there. “Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed.

Draco led them to a door decorated with carvings of objects Harry mostly recognized from Divination. He put his hand on a crystal ball that pulled out into a doorknob. As it opened, Harry was first distracted by a mesmerizing light fixture dropping down from the high ceiling, half-mobile and half-chandelier. Then saw, in front of an imposing painting of a witch mid-battle, her long silver hair flowing out behind her… Draco's parents. Sitting, and having tea. 

"Draco." The blonde woman at the tea table turned towards them. She was wearing a gown. Harry hadn't known that people, even Malfoy-people, still wore gowns. Far too late, he realized that he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say. Maybe he should have asked Draco what to do before he was actually standing here, in this room, in his dirty trainers. 

"Mother, Father, may I introduce Harry Potter," said Draco. "Harry, I don't believe you have met my mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy. And my father..."

"I er... hello." 

"We've met, Draco," said Lucius Malfoy. "Mr. Potter here has accused me of planting dark artifacts on unsuspecting school children. And then there was the business with Dobby." 

"That was you though,” blurted Harry. “Nobody else could have put the diary there.”

Mr. Malfoy clinked his cup on his saucer. Then set both cup and saucer firmly down on the table. "I certainly would not seek to incriminate myself. So I must say, very generally, that one would hope an enchanted muggle artifact left with the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department... would be dealt with appropriately."

Harry blinked. Had Mr. Malfoy just said what he’d thought he said? That he'd been trying to get rid of the diary? If it was really true… and he hadn’t been trying to open the Chamber of Secrets… well, it was still terrible. He’d still nearly killed Ginny. But it made him feel a little better about Hermione being here. 

"You are acting like we are going to eat you, Harry," said Mrs. Malfoy. "We are happy you are here, and that you and Draco have put aside your differences. My great-aunt married a Potter. You come from a very fine family." She leaned towards him, slightly. "And of course, your godfather is my cousin Sirius. It is a tragedy that his name is not yet cleared. But perhaps that may come, in time."

"You know? ” Despite himself, Harry felt himself relax. “So… does that mean… that maybe he could come stay here?" 

Draco's parents made eye contact across the table. Mr. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Lately we do seem to be running a home for lost and wayward Gryffindors."

"Lucius," Mrs. Malfoy admonished. Then sighed. "I wish it were that simple Harry, I do. But you must understand that Sirius has no reason to trust us. My elder sister was disowned for marrying a muggleborn, and I said nothing. And when my younger sister became one of the Dark Lord's most aggressive supporters, I said nothing then either." 

"He doesn't think all Malfoys are horrible. He’s met Draco." Harry tried his best to keep from pleading. "He's… he’s living in a cave."

Mrs. Malfoy shrugged one shoulder. "He knows where we are. He is in communication with Remus. I believe he considers it foolish to ask me and my husband for sanctuary, and I do not blame him."

"I can ask. I'll let him know -  if you really mean it. I’d… at least I could let him know?"

"Harry," said Mrs. Malfoy. "I would like you to think about this before you answer. If Sirius Black were here, would you be capable of telling no one. Not your teachers, or the Weasleys, or even Albus Dumbledore. Because even though many of these people are friends of Sirius, they are not friends of ours. And they might be tempted to... get us in trouble, for harboring a fugitive."

"What about Hermione?"

"What has become of the Granger girl?" said Mr. Malfoy. "Thought better of coming, has she?"

"She's outside talking to the portraits," said Draco, standing very straight at Harry's side. "Father, why didn't you tell me that Sirius Black was innocent, if you knew all along?"

"Wait, how do you know he’s innocent?" That was suspicious, now that Harry thought about it.

"Remus informed me,” said Mr. Malfoy, in a bored sort of way.

Harry felt stupid. That made sense.

"And Draco..." Mr. Malfoy continued. "I did not think you capable of keeping a secret like that until recently.”

Draco went pink.

"Why don't you go and retrieve Miss Granger?" said Mrs. Malfoy. "It isn't good manners, nor especially wise, to leave her wandering about alone."

"I'm sorry, Mother." Without another word, Draco nipped out the door to the entrance hall, and left Harry alone with the Malfoys.

"Harry," said Narcissa Malfoy. "We did want to talk to you. We have… some questions about the living situation Albus Dumbledore has arranged for you. Not because they're muggles."

"Not just because they're muggles..." muttered Lucius Malfoy, under his breath.

"Not all muggles are like them,” said Harry, quickly. “Hermione's parents aren't."

"What are they like. The muggles you live with," said Mrs. Malfoy.

"They're - " Harry hesitated. He didn’t want whatever he said about the Dursleys to be used as ammunition against all muggles.

"They're… okay,” he said. “They, uh. They don't really like having the extra mouth to feed, but I pull my weight. They don't treat me like a house elf if that's what you're asking." He really tried not to send a glare in the direction of Mr. Malfoy. "I've never been asked to iron my hands."

"Merlin,” Lucius Malfoy winced. “That does sound like something my mad father-in-law would make a house elf do." 

Mrs. Malfoy was silent.

Then, with a sensation like being doused with ice water, Harry was suddenly very aware that this was the house Dobby had cleaned and maintained, and been forced to hurt himself in dark corners where no one could see. Now he'd brought up Dobby in front of his old master, Harry realized that he was nowhere near done. "I heard that from your house elf.” He was glad he was holding his broom. If he wasn’t, his hands would’ve balled up into fists.

"Look around, boy,” Lucius Malfoy said, matching his anger. "There are no house elves here. This house doesn't need them. My father made sure of it, when he became so paranoid that he barely allowed family to set foot in this place!"

"Dobby!" Harry shouted. That made them flinch, but he stood his ground. "I'm talking about Dobby."

"We know you're talking about Dobby, Harry," said Narcissa Malfoy, much more quietly. "He was our only house elf. A wedding present, from my parents. He had seen things I thought would incriminate my family, and so we did not free him, though we could have. I am not proud of this. Especially because, as it turned out. My fears were baseless."

Harry didn't believe her for a second. "He would hurt himself. That year when he was trying to warn me, he kept bashing his head in to punish himself. He said Mr. Malfoy told him to do it. "

Lucius' face went white. He half-rose from his chair.

"You say - you say that Dobby did what? Two years ago - he managed to warn you...?"

"You can't hurt him anymore. He's free now." Harry knew he had ruined anything he'd had with Draco. It didn't matter. This was more important.

"Merlin and the seven sages," said Lucius Malfoy, as he sat back down again, heavily. "That means - that elf managed to fight the Imperius curse for a year. More or less, anyway. And I had no idea..."

"We underestimated Dobby," said Narcissa Malfoy. "Obviously. The sheer will power that must have taken... the magic he must have used..." 

Lucius Malfoy wasn't even looking at Harry. His eyes stared out, glassy, into the middle distance. "What you are describing… the hands, the hitting. That is the sort of Black family compulsion magic they put on all their house elves. I thought Narcissa's parents had sent Dobby over here as a spy. Maybe they did. But he made the choice not to act on it." A laugh, no humor in it. "Of course, there is no reason for you to believe me. I wasn't kind to Dobby. I am not generally a kind man. As I'm sure you must have realized."

"I’ll ask Sirius.” Harry was still shaking with rage. “He'll tell me if you're lying."

"Do that. His mother was far worse. The sorts of things she did to her house elves..." Then Mr. Malfoy shook his head, as if to clear it. "But unlike Walburga - and unlike Cygnus Black - I am not actually a sadist. Neither is my son, or my wife.” He rose from his seat, and looked down at Harry. “It would be very understandable if at this point you wished to leave and return to school. Say so, and Severus will bring you back. I only ask…” and at this point, Lucius Malfoy did falter. “I only ask that you not judge Draco too harshly for this. Eleven-year-olds are not responsible for their parents' weaknesses. Or their parents' vices."

Harry took a deep breath. Then another. He fought to unclench his hands. He could check everything they just said. He would. If Dobby was the unwanted addition - disliked, ignored and given the work no one else wanted… that was still bad. But it wasn’t the same as the Malfoys torturing him for fun. And if Professor Lupin trusted them enough to stay here, then at least some of what Lucius Malfoy said must be true.

"If you're lying, I'll tell Draco." 

"If you are to be with him, it is only right that you be perfectly honest,” said Mrs. Malfoy. 

"I'm - going to talk to the peacocks,” said Harry. He couldn’t stay in that room a second longer.

No one stopped him leaving. Harry retraced his steps until he found a way back outside. The house had grown small behind him before he finally deposited himself on the grass. There was a group of peacocks nearby, but he was too angry and unfamiliar, and so they kept away. That was all right. Harry could wait. He was good at waiting. It was what he did all summer.

Harry didn’t look up as Draco’s shadow fell across him. He stayed where he was, picking at the grass. He was still drained. It was never fun getting that angry.

“I bet Hermione’s found the library,” he muttered. There was probably no getting her out of it, now.

"She did, yeah.” Draco watched, as a peacock pecked at Harry’s trainers. “Right now though, she’s actually lecturing my parents about house elves. Seemed to be getting on all right. So I came to find you."

“They’re listening?"  

Draco sat down beside Harry. The peacocks knew him, and so didn’t scatter. "I’m as surprised as you are. I suppose… she’s got a lot to say on the subject. She knows a lot of muggle things. About history and mind-healing, and I don’t know. Post-trauma... something. So at least it’s new information. Also I think talking to you put my parents in some sort of mood." 

"Sorry." Harry wasn't sorry. If they had sent Draco out to come and get him, it wasn’t going to work. He still needed the open space above him.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I dunno. Seemed like the polite thing to say." Harry flopped back, next to his broom. 

“I'm sorry that you're under our roof and having a miserable time. Granger at least is enjoying herself."

"I'm not miserable." And he wasn’t, exactly. He was actually proud of himself for standing up to Lucius Malfoy. “Somebody needed to say that stuff." 

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Draco was quiet while the most adventurous peacock pulled at Harry's shoelace. "Severus says…” he began. “He says that Professor Lupin likes to run around the grounds. But he spends time in the underground level too."

"I haven't seen him out here." Harry had hoped he would. Had maybe even hoped that Lupin would come and find him, just because he wanted to see him.

"I haven't actually seen him transformed,” said Draco. “And last time you did, he attacked Sirius Black. He's apparently gigantic, so. Maybe he’s just being cautious."

"He is pretty big," Harry admitted. He wondered if what he’d been thinking had shown at all on his face. "Come on. I bet we can find him."

"You still want to stay?"

"Yeah." He knew that he could leave, which helped. It would be stupid to go without at least saying hello to Lupin. Also, it was probably good that Hermione had found someone who’d listen to her when she started talking about house elves. Even the Weasleys didn’t listen when she started on about that.

They went down hallways and staircases made of thick stone, their voices muffled by tapestries. The deeper Harry and Draco went, the more silent the house became, until finally Draco banged on a huge, barred wooden door. “Professor Lupin?”

A wolf's howl. Draco tensed, and when he didn’t move, Harry pushed past him to bang harder. "Professor Lupin?"

As he opened the door, there was a shape half-visible through the darkness. Once his eyes adjusted… it resolved into a gigantic grey wolf, standing at the very bottom of the stairs. A wolf the size of a pony. But Harry was not even slightly reminded of the night Pettigrew escaped. This time he watched the wolf climb a few stairs using dainty, dancing steps. Lay down on its paws when it reached the first landing. Wag its tail.

"See?" Harry said. This was just like Buckbeak. "It's Professor Lupin."

Draco nodded, although he hadn’t stopped gripping Harry’s arm. "Hello…” he cleared his throat. “Professor Lupin. Would you er, would you like to... come upstairs?"

The huge wolf got to his feet, and slowly approached them. Harry reached out to touch his fur, then wondered belatedly if maybe he should have asked before petting. Lupin didn't seem to mind though. Only nudged his head into Harry's hand. He was soft.

"Hermione's here,” said Harry. “She's talking to the Malfoys about house elves."

Lupin closed his eyes partway. Wagged his tail some more.

"Um, Professor, is it all right if - " Draco looked deeply uncomfortable. "Can I, ah. Pat you? Or only Harry - ?" But then Draco was being headbutted, and his face split into a smile as he gingerly pet the huge fluffy wolf. Harry laughed.

"Let's go outside," said Draco. "No animal that big likes to be cooped up indoors." He took a step, then realized -  "Sorry - sorry, Professor Lupin. I know you're not an animal. Only you look like one right now. I, ah...." He looked at Harry, who laughed again. He’d bet that Draco was also thinking about Buckbeak.

Lupin's tail was wagging like crazy as he pushed between the two of them, going first. They saw Lucius Malfoy on their way out, but he didn’t react to the sight of Lupin. Somehow it surprised Harry that the wolf had free reign of the house like this. Mr. Malfoy had looked at him, and then at Draco. Then swiftly turned a corner, out of sight. Hermione must’ve finished her lecture.

“Bet Hermione went back to the library,” said Harry.

"Yeah," agreed Draco. "Half the volumes in there are rare or unique. Granger'll be there for days if we don’t drag her out." He pushed open one more side door, and suddenly they were out in the bright, chill November air. The wolf sniffed a few plants before circling back around, and Harry got down so their faces could be at the same level. When Lupin sat, and leaned against him, it felt like a hug.

"They said Sirius could stay here.” It didn't feel safe to talk about too loudly, so Harry only whispered the words against the wolf’s ear. "I could see him this summer, maybe." Knowing Sirius was out there was already so much more than he’d had before. The idea of actually getting to spend time with him, maybe ask questions about his parents, talk about all the stuff he'd done… that didn’t seem like it could even be real.

Lupin rested his big head on Harry's shoulder. The weight was nice.

"I bet we could race him," said Draco, approaching. "On brooms. Over short distances he might even have the advantage. He can get to top speed faster than we can." 

Harry grinned. "If we fly close to the ground we could throw stuff for him to catch."

"I think I've still got some of those training Snitches. They can’t fly more than ten feet above the ground, so that would be fair." Draco shifted his weight. "And I've got some of the real kind also, for later. You know. If you want."

Draco was fast getting the quidditch supplies. He set the case of Snitches on the grass, popped one free, threw a leg over his Nimbus and was off. Then the wolf was off too, running across the rolling Manor lawns, jumping and nipping at the golden speck.

"Hey, no fair!" said Harry.

"You're on the faster equipment Potter, catch up!"

Harry threw himself onto the Firebolt, didn’t even bother adjusting his balance before he was leaning into a turn tight around a fountain.

"Now the main thing," said Draco, hovering six feet above him. "Is don't fly through the wards. It's obvious when you hit them, the air starts feeling like honey. But they make it so no one outside can see us, and you can fly as high as you want."

"Don't fly through the wards. Got it."

The wolf had climbed up on a fountain and jumped through the air to go for the Snitch. He wasn’t even close. Harry laughed, and dived to splash him. Lupin shook his coat in retaliation, and Harry put a hand up to shield his glasses. Slightly damp, he went speeding off down the length of the yard, looking for that characteristic golden shimmer.

There was something by one of the lawn-statues. Draco had seen it too. He was diving.

Harry got flat to the broom, wind stinging as Lupin sprinted below. He had one eye on the Snitch, the other on Draco. But Draco’s dive was too shallow - he was flying much too high -

A crunch, as Draco hugged himself tight to his broom and barrel-rolled through a tree, scattering golden autumn leaves. Camouflaging the Snitch. Harry lost sight of it for not even a second, but it was enough. His hand closed on nothing.

Draco pulled out of his roll. Circled back around, then dipped to lean off the broom and run fingers through the grass. It wasn’t like there was a game at stake, so Harry took a minute to admire the way he moved. Draco would be taking a nosedive into the dirt if his balance was even slightly off. Harry didn't dare try the same thing on the Firebolt. Not when he was distracted.

That was when Draco brought his broom up, and shot forward. Rolled to get between the pillars of a gazebo, immediately flipped to fly along the high box hedge. So familiar with how his broom handled in the space that he flowed from one motion to the next without that half-second of thinking.

Instead of chasing him, Harry flew to the ground and dismounted. "Want to ride the Firebolt?" he called up.

Draco circled, and landed smoothly. His face was pink, his blonde hair mussed.

“You mean it?”

"It's not like I'm letting you borrow it for a Quidditch match." If Harry started letting people at school borrow it they’d never stop asking, but this was different.

"Here - you can try mine,” said Draco. “The 2001 handles almost exactly like the 2000, only the balance is better so you can turn faster without losing control." He gazed reverently at the Firebolt. "Krum's on one of those."

Harry smiled as they traded brooms. "You have to really throw yourself into corners but not too much." He found he used his legs a lot more with the Firebolt. “Takes a minute to get used to.”

Draco was turning it in his hands, admiring. "Merlin, they've even hand-shaped the individual twigs. What even is the top speed on this?"

"Mostly run out of space before you can hit it."

Draco swore. "You know. We've got a hundred acres here…"

"Then why are you asking me how fast it goes?" Harry gave him a shove.  He really wanted to kiss him, and might even have done it, if Professor Lupin hadn’t been there.

Draco gave him a wicked grin. Then threw a leg over the Firebolt, and shot off into the sky.

He went really high, really fast. Harry watched, as Draco tried to wrestle the broom back under control. "Potter!" he yelled down, breathless. "This handles like a damn Portkey! How are you supposed to turn it at speed?!" But he must’ve remembered what Harry had said, because soon he was throwing his body almost completely sideways to turn, and starting to drift lower, learning the balance and the feel.

Harry sat on the grass to watch. Draco's face was tight with concentration, hands and thighs gripping the broom. Lupin looked between the two of them, and then padded off in the direction of the house. Maybe to check on Hermione.

He was getting a lot of insight into Draco's thought process here. Draco was cautious, and gave himself a lot of room to get out of turns. Liked to practice by doing dives and swerves that all ended with him touching the mermaid at the top of the central fountain. It did get a little boring when he started all the mid-air stop drills, so Harry hopped on the Nimbus 2001 and took off. Draco was right, the ride was incredibly smooth. Not nearly as fast as on the Firebolt though. 

Draco dropped down beside him, hovering.

"I'm going to try to fly the hedge maze. Get a better feel for how this takes sharp corners." 

"You have a hedge maze?" What was Harry thinking, of course the Malfoys had a hedge maze.

"It's boring to do on foot, but taking those turns on a broom? Come on." Draco turned, and rocketed over the grounds. Harry followed. Together, they flew over pathways, gardens, a glassy lake. Finally, he could see a maze spreading out below them. Draco glanced back at Harry, then dropped down. The hedge walls were thick, the path maybe four feet across. Tricky, but if you were good with a broom it was definitely doable. 

Harry watched Draco fight the Firebolt less and less as he lay flat to the handle, using his hips to fly, getting more and more out of its speed. But he was also trying to take the corners too wide, and Harry wasn’t surprised at all when Draco grazed his shoulder on the hedge while trying to execute a tight turn.

He pushed the Nimbus forward. Diving, then throwing himself sideways and taking the next corner sharp. Flying close enough that he could’ve grabbed a twig out of Draco’s hair if he’d wanted. Or - wait. The Snitch had followed them. It was hovering right behind Draco’s head - and Harry hadn’t even needed to think. His hand closed on it. Now, even if Draco passed him, it didn’t matter. He’d won.

There was a long straight shot coming. Draco had the speed. Harry could hear him whooshing through the air behind him. The Firebolt pulled into the lead - but Draco’s caution at the next turn meant that Harry was able to slide under him. Then he was one turn ahead, two - when he went the wrong way and needed to backtrack. But he pulled ahead at the next hairpin turn, taking three sharp switch-backs, one after another. 

Draco was in close pursuit. Harry made sure his body language didn’t give anything away - waited until the absolute last second to make his final turn, until there was no time left and he either had to jerk to the side, or fly into the hedge - 

It wasn't the cleanest swerve. He did graze his sleeve. But Draco was too focused on him and hadn't been able to make the turn. Instead he collided, face-first into the hedge. And Harry sailed on into the heart of the maze, right to the ornamental sundial in the center.

He was flying lazy circles around it when Draco joined him a minute later. There were twigs in his hair and his clothes were rumpled, but Harry thought it was actually a pretty good look on him.

"You tricked me! " Draco sounded half annoyed, half impressed.

Harry grinned, sped up - and chucked the Snitch at him.

Draco snapped up a hand to catch it. Then looked down at the golden ball in disbelief.

"You were flying one handed?"

"It's not hard." It was, a little. But the challenge was fun.

Draco got a burst of speed out of the Firebolt. Flew right up next to Harry. Then he got a hand in his hair to pull him sideways - and crushed their mouths together.

Harry completely forgot about flying. Which meant that his broom fell out of the air, dumping him on the ground and dragging Draco down too.

Draco’s face was blocking out the sun. Hair shining white, as he leaned over Harry. "I should have done that during a game." 

"I already caught the Snitch."

Draco bent down, to kiss him again.

His lips were soft, and his kiss was softer. Harry got a hand in his hair, along with the leaves and twigs. Even when he broke away, Draco stayed close. Kept their foreheads pressed together.

Harry’s heart was beating fast. Somehow, he still felt like he was flying.

"How long - how long do you think before they try and find us?"

"Granger's interview isn't scheduled until tomorrow,” said Draco. His voice was soft too. “And they'll notice if we don't come in for dinner. That's always at seven o'clock."

Harry kissed him again. They didn't have to keep looking over their shoulder for people coming down the halls and it was fantastic. Draco smoothed the hair back from Harry's face. Traced a thumb along his scar. Usually Harry didn't like it when people focused on his scar because it felt like they were seeing it instead of him. But this wasn’t like that at all.

“I'm still surprised you were willing to give it a shot, with me,” said Draco. “With the - you know. With everything. It would've been easier with almost anyone else."

"What would?"

"Dating, kissing. Walking around in public. Friends getting along. Meeting parents. Any of it."

"Kissing you is pretty easy."

"I hope you're not trying to say that I'm easy."

Harry felt his stomach flutter excitedly. "Dating you is pretty easy. Probably easier than dating me. I'm the reason any of it was in the news." 

"Oh please. The werewolf thing wasn't you. I might not be Harry Potter, but my family is still quite high-profile." Draco was still gazing down at him. Harry realized that he really liked it when Draco looked at him like that. "Believe me, it was extremely annoying to realize that you are really just like this. All the time.”

"Almost like having to figure out that maybe I didn't hate you, like I thought."

“I hate that I know what you mean.” Draco did roll his eyes at that. “Having to admit that there might be some other reason I spent so much time complaining about you -  to anyone who would listen - " 

His long fingers combed through Harry's hair, and Harry pulled him closer. The chill in the air sent goose pimples across his skin and Draco shivered too, when he wrapped an arm around Harry's back. Outside like this - Draco was so warm, and everywhere they touched seemed to tingle in new and exciting ways. Just Draco touching his arm forced every other thought out of his head. Then Draco touched his neck.  

Harry made a little noise without meaning to. He'd been ticklish before, but this wasn't that. That had sent a sudden and intense rush of warmth through him, like what he’d felt the first time they'd kissed.

Draco laughed. That made kissing a little difficult."You're still wearing your glasses."

"Oh." Harry had forgotten. They were almost a part of his face at this point. He pulled away to take them off, and everything around him went blurry. "I'm not going to be able to see these if I set them down. Isn’t like I can get another pair, so um... don't let me lose them, okay?"

"Of course, but..." Draco paused, and Harry couldn't see his face well enough to read his expression. "Can't get another pair?"

"Just got the one, but you know it's fine. Ron's dad fixed them so I don't have to mess around with the tape." Harry got up, and carefully set his glasses in the center of the sundial, where they couldn't get stepped on or lost. Then he saw the outline of Draco, picking up and inspecting them.

"Did these not come with a Find-Me spell when you bought them? Or any strengthening chams? These look quite old, they're not... sentimental? Or an heirloom?"

"I got them back before I started Hogwarts."

Draco turned, sharply. "How long have you had this specific pair of glasses? Muggle glasses can't possibly last very long, can they?"

"Six years? Seven?” Harry shrugged. “Dunno. I can fix them now, so they last longer. Even if Dudley breaks them over the summer I only have to use Sellotape until school starts." 

"Wait -” Draco seemed to be calculating something in his head. “You've had them since you were eight? No, that can't be right.Your head gets bigger from when you're eight. I'm fairly certain muggle objects don't know that. And... you can only magically mend things so many times before the charm begins to have trouble sticking..." He paused. "You bought a Firebolt out-of-pocket, are you really this bad with money?"

"I didn't buy the Firebolt. Sirius did."

"Harry," said Draco, seriously. "Can you access your Gringotts vault?"

"Yeah?" He wished he knew what look Draco was giving him.

"Then why don't you buy yourself some better glasses!"

"What's wrong with these?" The primary school he'd been at before Hogwarts had made the Dursleys get them. They were good glasses. He liked them.

"Let's see,” said Draco. “They can get lost. They can get broken by some beast of a muggle relation. There's a red mark on your temple where they pinch you. They don't stick to your head so you have to adjust them as you play Quidditch. They don't repel debris, or water, which is important for Quidditch. Also that leaf didn't look that much like a Snitch," he sniffed.

Right. Obviously, since Draco didn't need glasses, he didn’t know much about them.

"They’re just glasses."

"That is the absolute bare minimum of acceptability. I'm sure Dumbledore's glasses help him see through glamours and walls and play ballets for him when he's bored." Draco grabbed Harry by the wrist. "Come on. You're here, we have time, I think we should get you a new pair."

"I'm not going anywhere until you give those back."

"I wasn't holding them hostage." Draco handed his glasses over. “I - I was really enjoying kissing you, but I think this is more important. What about the dragon? That's coming up. I'd say heat-resistant lenses might be useful."

"They have those?" That was a good point. Mending charms probably didn’t work on dragon fire, and he had no idea what he’d do if his glasses melted.

"Yeah," said Draco. "I don't think it's standard over at Glosset's Eyeglass Emporium, but I’m sure they can do it for you."

Harry thought about it. He did have the money. Percy, McGonagall, Trelawney, and Dumbledore all wore glasses that looked pretty normal. If he didn't actually tell the Dursleys they were magic…

"Yeah,” he said. “Okay."

That was all the encouragement Draco needed to start dragging Harry back over towards the brooms. "I'm sure Mother will Floo us to Diagon Alley if I tell her it's an emergency."

"It’s not an emergency.” Harry was surprised by how bothered Draco was by this. Sure, his glasses might not have any spells on them, but they were fine. They worked. But Draco got them back up to the main house in record speed, and tapped on the frame of the first portrait they saw.

"Sir Ganelon? Please let Mother know that Harry Potter needs to go to Diagon Alley. It can't wait. We'll be waiting by the fireplace in the main hall."

He and Harry waited in front of an elaborately carved fireplace probably ten times the size of the cupboard under the stairs until Narcissa Malfoy appeared out of nowhere with a pop, pulling on gloves the exact same grey as her long coat-gown. She held out traveling cloaks to the pair of them, and Draco took his while launching into a long, dramatic speech about why Harry needed new glasses. Just as he was getting really into it… Mrs. Malfoy held up a hand.

"Calm yourself, Draco. This is not a difficult problem to solve. Now Harry, we will visit Gringotts to make sure that you have accessible funds, and then we will get you a pair of glasses that can hold up under the kinds of magical accidents you are likely to see at Hogwarts." 

Harry was glad she was being calmer about all this. "I have money."

"Of course you do. You have the Potter hair-potion fortune, do you not?" She was looking down at him. "You are only fourteen, so it is possible you have always had help with withdrawing money, or had others withdraw it for you. I want to make sure you are able to do it on your own, and that the goblins know who you are." 

"Most people know who I am," Harry pointed out.

That made her smile, and her eyes flicked to his scar. "I am sure they do, Mr. Potter."

Harry put on the traveling cloak. Knowing it was probably Draco's did make him a little less annoyed.

"I do not think I can fault you for getting behind on your shopping," said Mrs. Malfoy, cupping her hand below the face of a carved gargoyle that was halfway between a dragon and a chicken. A trickle of Floo powder poured into her hand. "Going to public spaces in Wizarding Britain must be a rather fraught experience for you. I may not be a full honor guard of ten Weasleys, but I think I can manage." Draco held out his hand, and she sprinkled powder into it. "Expect Harry and then me."

Draco threw the Floo powder into the flames. When they leapt up green he clearly said, "Diagon Alley," stepped in, and vanished.

"Hold out your hand," said Mrs. Malfoy. Harry did. He'd traveled by Floo before, so he knew what to expect.

"Do not think that you overstepped this morning," she said, as she poured. "You said just enough. My family does have a nasty history with house elves, which I have tried very hard to not think about, or expose Draco too. But talking to you, I fear that my approach has been flawed."

"Dobby's a person." Harry wanted to make that perfectly clear. "He's a house elf and he's a person. He's a good person."

She nodded, and then looked distant. "I was raised to believe that house elves were not people. And that neither were werewolves, or muggleborns. I am still un-learning, I fear."

Harry looked at her. Then nodded. Feeling better with that understood, he threw the Floo powder into the fire, stepped inside and clearly said "Diagon Alley!"

Draco was waiting for him outside the fireplace in Flourish and Blotts. Mrs. Malfoy followed, walking a little behind them as Draco stalked over in the direction of Gringotts. Harry hadn't actually known that all you needed to withdraw money was a wand.

Now with a full bag of gold, he followed the Malfoys. The glasses store they took him to was overwhelming, in a way that reminded him of Draco’s favorite tea shop. The single room was full of skinny glass pillars, slowly rotating, containing glasses that changed shape, or seemed to be made of smoke, or every so often turned invisible. Only one single chair was squeezed into the limited floor space, which was probably for the best. The carpet was covered in a mildly disturbing pattern of multi-colored eyes that occasionally blinked.

A thin, reedy shop assistant ran out of a back room to greet them. "Mrs. Malfoy! We were not expecting you. Does your son - "

Narcissa Malfoy stepped aside to reveal Harry. The shop assistant's eyes grew huge.

"We will keep these same frames, or something very like them," said Mrs. Malfoy. “And I should like to review a list of the spells your establishment provides. And a cup of tea."

"Oh, of course, Mrs. Malfoy, of course..."

Harry looked at Draco, who shrugged. "You've got old-fashioned glasses. But they're part of your look by now, aren't they? They'll have them in the back."

"O-Okay. Good." He’d mostly been curious if Draco's mum was always like this, but it did make him feel better knowing his glasses would stay the same. He'd rather not have the Dursleys notice anything different at all.

As soon as Mrs. Malfoy sat down, she was provided with her tea and a list that she started tapping at with her wand. Draco opened up one of the tall glass cabinets, and started trying on different pairs of glasses in front of a mirror that took up one entire wall. 

"You look weird with glasses,” said Harry. "You don't look like yourself."

Draco rolled his eyes from behind a pair of huge bright green frames that didn't suit him. Harry might have joined in the fun if it hadn’t meant taking his own glasses off. "Aren't you worried someone's going to show up and take a picture?"

Draco took off his very ugly glasses, only to try on a new pair that was somehow worse. "I'd like to see Skeeter spin some story out of you buying glasses. "

"Don't tempt fate, Draco," said Mrs. Malfoy, not looking up from her parchment. "You could have been more careful about how you were seen with Harry."

"Ron did just tell her," Harry mumbled. 

"Part of the purpose of tomorrow's interview is to make you and Harry seem like the sweet and wholesome couple which indeed you are."

"Mother..." said Draco.

"If you wish to cultivate a reputation as some sort of dark heartbreaker, you may do that when you come of age and not before." She turned a page, without looking up. Draco was blushing.

"Dark heartbreaker? Is that what you were going for?" Harry leaned in, trying to keep his voice down. "I thought you were going for really pale crime boss."

Draco glowered. Blushed harder. Which made him look very silly, underneath the glasses he was wearing.

At this point an older witch came out to greet them. She was wearing a pair of the most elaborate goggle-glasses Harry had ever seen. There were multiple lenses, with additional bits added to the sides, and the whole thing seemed to cover the top of her face like a mask. He couldn’t help but be uncomfortably reminded of Aragog.

Mrs. Malfoy looked up to watch their interaction, as Harry was presented with a tray of options that looked basically identical. They all could have been his old glasses.

"I think one of these should do," said the eyeglasses witch.

"I - er - Thank you?" He remembered what Draco had said about heat resistance not being common. "Do you have any that are good at not melting?"

"Of these options here, this one here would be most durable," she nudged the pair on the left. "And when you've decided, if you would just be a dear and put them on, and stand in this spot" - she pointed to a purple splotch on the floor. “Make eye contact with yourself in that far mirror? As best as you can."

Harry took off his current glasses and picked up the new ones. He could find the purple spot he was supposed to stand on all right, but without his glasses his reflection wasn’t much more than a blurry shape.

The eyeglasses witch held her wand to the side of his face. The tip began to glow. And then - the world sharpened.

Harry startled enough that Draco noticed. He could tell that Draco’s eyes were grey. He was dumbfounded.

"I can see," he whispered quietly.

"Now if you just stand still, I can tailor them to your face," said the witch. "I can take measurements and adjust them in the back, or do it right here. It all just depends how much someone sticking a wand in your face bothers you."

"Harry?" said Mrs. Malfoy.

Harry was holding onto the new glasses with one hand. He didn’t think he’d be able to make himself take them off. "You… er… can do it here. It's fine." He'd had wands pointed at him lots of times. That wasn't a problem.

So the witch put him up on a little step-stool and walked around him a few times, tapping on the glasses as she went. It took her a few minutes, but by the time she was done… he could never have imagined such a comfortable pair, or one that sat on his ears and nose so securely. 

Mrs. Malfoy handed over the paper she had been reviewing. Some of the items were now written in purple ink, and the eyeglasses witch looked over her selections, and nodded.

"Very good. I’ll just pop round the back and add the enchantments. They should be ready in a few minutes."

Harry didn’t move. He didn’t want to take the glasses off.

Mrs. Malfoy met his eyes in a way that - for a moment - reminded him of Snape. Like she was somehow looking straight through him.

"Add your enchantments while he wears the glasses," she said.

"Oh! But, it will take so much longer. I'll have to move my equipment, and sometimes people don't like the buzzing sound - "

Narcissa Malfoy just looked at her.

"Just give me one moment," said the eyeglasses witch, the side-bits of her glasses clicking and whirring nervously.

Mrs. Malfoy stood, and took back the paper. She was very tall. Draco would probably be very tall one day. She put a hand on Harry's shoulder, as she looked over the list once again. Marked a few more options. Then went to sit down. 

The eyeglasses witch bustled away, and Harry looked out the window. He could read the signs in the windows of the shops across the street.

He did spend about three quarters of an hour standing in the center of a circle of whirring gadgets, dodging occasional puffs of smoke that smelled strangely of limes. When the glasses were finally done, he was given a case to put them in, and then it was time to pay.

They were only three galleons. His omnioculars had been ten.

"You will never lose those," said Mrs. Malfoy, as she led him out of the shop, the door shutting behind them. "Even if they are stolen or locked away, give them an hour or two and they will be back in your hand again."

"I'm not supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts."

"You won't have to. We spent a little extra to make sure they can do subtle magic all on their own. The underage Trace does not care about that."

That was an enormous relief. "Thank you." Harry was overwhelmed. As soon as he got back to Hogwarts, he was sending a letter to Lupin so he could watch Hedwig fly.

"Is there anything else you need?" said Mrs. Malfoy. "Dress robes, perhaps? Or would you like to return to the Manor?" 

"Huh?" Harry had been distracted, looking in the direction of the Owl Emporium. "Er, no. This is - we can go back now." He could see.

"Harry probably wants to see how his new glasses work while flying," said Draco. "Before it gets dark."

"I chose lenses that should make seeing in the dark much easier for you," said Mrs. Malfoy, with almost a smile.

Distracted by the individual leaves on the trees, and the texture of Draco's hair, it was no time at all before Harry was back in the Manor's huge fireplace. 

Draco became increasingly and increasingly frustrated, as evening settled into Malfoy Manor and Harry made a series of more and more impressive catches. When he finally caught the Snitch at the bottom of a fifty-foot dive he took so fast it was almost freefall, Draco called it a night.

"If Marcus ever learns that I'm the reason you can actually see now, he’ll never forgive me.”

Harry's face hurt from smiling. He flew a celebratory loop, Snitch in hand and glasses perfectly stuck to his face. Heading back down to the ground in a spiral, he landed beside Draco and wrapped him in the tightest hug he could.

Draco tensed.

"I love you," said Harry.

He heard Draco exhale a puff of breath. "Harry - I. I just did what anyone would have done."

Harry kissed the side of Draco's face as best he could without pulling away. "I love you."

Draco turned his head, and kissed him fiercely. Then pressed his cheek against Harry's.

"I think I might too," he said, so soft Harry almost didn't hear.

Then he pulled back. "Come on. Let's go collect Granger and - we should really get dressed for dinner."

They found Hermione in the library, almost completely hidden by piles of books and stacks of parchment.

"Hello, Granger," said Draco, sliding one of the stacks over so they could see her face. "You have to stop working now. Did you bring something to wear to dinner or shall I point you at one of the  wardrobes?"

"No need to be rude." Hermione began to pile her things together. “Harry! Did you know Snape used muggle science in his potions work?" Not waiting for an answer, she turned to Draco. "Which bedroom is mine?"

"I can put you in the Rose Bedroom. Harry can be in the Constellation Bedroom next door."

As they walked through the corridors of Malfoy Manor, it began to make perfect sense why the Malfoys were so casual about taking people in. The house was big enough to get lost in, and the entire Weasley family could probably have moved in without the Malfoys noticing. Maybe, Harry thought, that was why Draco made such a big deal about dinner. Unless you had things like that scheduled in, you probably went weeks without seeing anybody.

He had assumed that Draco wanted them to get cleaned up so they didn't smell like they'd been flying all day. But apparently ‘get dressed for dinner’ meant changing into an entirely new set of fancier clothes for no reason he could figure out.

"You can borrow something of mine." Draco walked them down yet another hallway. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in green.”

"Right, so. I'm not wearing Slytherin colors.” Even if he was maybe-in-love with Draco, that was too far.

"It'll go with your eyes.”

"I'm not wearing Slytherin colors to dinner with your parents and Snape." 

"Fine. Have it your way. You can wear burgundy. As if they don't already know you're a Gryffindor." 

Harry thought Draco looked cute when he was annoyed. Which was good, since the two of them had annoyed each other a lot over the years.

Hermione was immediately enchanted by the Rose Bedroom, which had a wall of stained-glass rose bushes charmed to flutter in the breeze, and bookshelves built into the towering headboard. "This used to be Great-Aunt Domitia's room," said Draco. "The portrait you were talking to. It's been re-decorated since the 1600s, but the stained glass is original. Dinner is at seven.”

"Oh. Of course. Right." Hermione was already climbing up to look at the books.

Draco shut the door, and turned to Harry. "You can put your things next door. My rooms are over in the family wing, and there's a secret passageway that goes straight to them." 

Harry felt himself blushing.

"I didn't mean - " Now Draco was blushing too. "I'm - I'll - I’ll just bring something for you to wear. Red, you said?" 

"No, it's - erm, I'm - I mean - " Now Harry's face was burning. "It wouldn't be the first time I snuck into your room."

Oh no. That sounded bad. Worse. Not that he wouldn't like to sneak over. Maybe he’d even planned to. But only so they could spend more time together.

"I guess that's a bit... normal for us then?" said Draco. He pushed back a tapestry, revealing a hidden door. Harry simply accepted that anything he said now was going to sound weird, so he said nothing at all and just followed Draco through the passageway.

There was a suite of three rooms at the other end, rooms which were almost completely green. Harry hadn't realized just how much Draco liked green. It made the comment about his eyes feel a little different. 

"Yeah, ah. So..." Draco went straight to a closet the size of a room, and started pulling things off shelves. There were some Gryffindor colors in there, but everything looked much too formal for a family dinner.

"I thought the reporter was coming tomorrow?"

Draco shrugged, and held out a jumper. "We have guests."

The jumper was green, but also the first thing Draco had shown him that didn’t feel like part of a suit. Harry couldn’t help but think about how he had said green brought out his eyes - and after a second of consideration, decided that he didn’t actually care what Snape thought. He went to go change.

When he came back out, Draco was wearing a black suit jacket with a red collar. He was looking down, adjusting the cuff. He seemed taller, somehow.

"Shall I take you down to dinner?" said Draco. Not quite meeting Harry's eyes.

"Huh?" Harry knew Draco had asked him something. He just happened to be too busy looking at him.

Draco held out his arm.

Harry took it, or tried to. In his defense, he was very distracted. If he'd ever seen Draco dressed like this... he would have realized he was gay a whole lot sooner.

“I thought you looked good in your quidditch uniform,” he blurted.

Draco got spots of pink on his cheekbones. "You should, ah. Keep that jumper. When you go. It does make your eyes look... green."

Harry turned Draco’s head towards him, and leaned in for a kiss. Draco’s lips stayed slightly parted after they broke away. Redder than they normally were. Now that they’d been kissed.

"We should go to dinner," Harry said. 

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to have to talk to Snape, or Mr. Malfoy. He didn’t want to fight a dragon in a week. 

He would have given anything in the world to stay, right there.

Chapter Text

Harry tumbled to the ground in a pile of limbs and broomsticks, still clutching the golden dragon egg. The noise of the screaming crowd had turned off like someone unplugging a television, and instead of the dry dirt of the dragon enclosure… he had landed painfully on his back, in a tangle of roots and leaves. Harry’s momentum sent him rolling, him and whoever had grabbed onto the back of his robes - until they hit something solid, and stopped.

A headstone. They were in a graveyard.

Harry checked to make sure his Firebolt was still in one piece. That meant letting go of the egg, which rolled off into the scrubby bushes. He guessed that it must have been a portkey.

"Herry! You are in denger!"

Was that Viktor Krum? Harry looked around and - yes, it was Krum.

"Wait, you grabbed me! Why would you - " His brain caught up with what Krum had just said. "In danger? From what?"

"Your boyfriend, he said to me. Det Eater disguised as Alastor Moody. Somehow, dis is a trap. You were not hearink well, so I try and pull you back from de egg."

A Death Eater at Hogwarts? Harry's stomach dropped. But if Draco knew… well then, he’d definitely be raising the alarm. Dumbledore and the teachers were probably dealing with it. That didn’t explain what was happening to him now, though.

Krum got to his feet, and reached a hand down for Harry. The two of them looked around at what was definitely an empty, abandoned graveyard. It was overcast here, when it hadn’t been back at Hogwarts. They must have traveled hundreds of miles away.

“We are somewhere dey speak English." Krum was looking at the gravestones, faded and overgrown.

"One of us should fly up, see if we can find a town. Even if it's muggles, at least we can figure out where we are." Harry suddenly had a horrible thought. "Is your broom okay?" 

Krum turned his own Firebolt over in his hands. "It is fine. You yourself are very much the flier."

"Thanks. I s’pose - I mean, I got new glasses and that helped. I'll go look." Harry mounted his broom, and rose up into the trees. If there was a town nearby, they’d have to walk to get to it. It wasn’t foggy enough to disguise them if they flew, Harry wasn’t making that mistake again. He was wondering if he’d recognize any landmarks, from that trip in the car with Ron... 

When far below him, he heard a crack.

"Stupefy!"  

A flump, like a body falling.

He didn’t recognize that voice.

Harry got flat to the handle of the Firebolt, hurtled towards the ground and snapped through tree branches. Just pointed his broom straight at the spot where he’d heard the voice, picking up speed.

Krum was lying at the feet of a man wearing Moody’s coat, a man with a face and leg absolutely drenched in blood. It wasn’t Moody, but - hyper-focused in the way he was when he played Quidditch - Harry realized that he did recognize him. Older, and wearing Moody's eye - but he’d seen that man in Dumbledore's Pensieve. Barty Crouch Junior.

Harry came at him. Crouch lunged. Harry flew past him, and away into the trees. Drew his wand before coming back around.

"Expelliarmus!" 

The wand Barty Crouch was holding flew out of his hand. Harry did one of the Firebolt's signature swerves, and snatched it out of the air like it was a Snitch. Crouch swore.

For a split second Harry thought he might run at him, try to get his wand back. But instead he turned. Sprinted towards Viktor Krum - stunned on the ground.

Harry was faster.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" He didn't know the spell to wake up Krum, but he knew he had to get him out of there somehow. Hoping that this would work, Harry wrapped his wand-arm tightly around the broom handle, then reached down for the back of Krum’s robes. For a moment he was flying so low the grass brushed the tops of his knees. But Krum’s body felt light. Kept feeling light, as Harry gained more and more altitude.

The wand Krum had been holding fell from his limp fingers. Landed in the overgrown grass. Harry couldn't do anything about that, not while he was still dragging a feather-light Krum. 

Crouch bent down - and when he stood, he had a wand again. 

Harry pushed the Firebolt for all the speed it had, ducking his head to rocket through trees. Doing anything and everything to put something between him and Barty Crouch.  

There was an old, abandoned-looking church a little way to the east. If he flew around the back... Crouch wouldn't be able to see him go in. Harry swerved through a broken window and flew up, up into the belltower, looking for any floorboards that seemed able to support Krum’s weight. When he finally found some that looked okay, he let go. "I'll be back," he whispered, to Viktor’s unconscious body. "I'll get your broom, and your wand, and I'll be back." He did consider staying there, and trying to hide. But it was only a matter of time before Barty Crouch Junior came looking and when he did that, Harry wanted to be as far away from Krum’s body as possible. 

As quietly and carefully as he could, Harry flew out of the church, then back around through the trees. Could he summon Krum’s broom to him? Would that work? Would the spell become confused if there were two Firebolts? 

"Obscuro!"

A magical blindfold snapped tight around Harry’s eyes, tight enough that it would definitely have shattered his old glasses. Harry pulled at it with both hands, but it was sticky, and by the time he was able to claw it off - he was spiraling, scraping up against the branches of low, surrounding trees. Barty Crouch was beneath him, pointing Krum's wand straight up.

"Incarcerous!"

Thin ropes shot out of the end, wrapping around Harry’s ankles and the handle of his Firebolt like grappling hooks, dragging him down and out of the air. He was beneath the canopy of branches now, and tried to bring his wand close to his body, safe -

"Moblicorpus!” screamed Crouch.

But he missed. For a brief, detached moment Harry thought of his bleeding eye socket.

Another crack. Harry snapped his head around to see a second, hooded figure. This one held a bundle in its arms, a bundle that looked like… a baby.

Then, without warning,  Harry's scar exploded in pain.

With Barty Crouch’s ropes around him, he couldn't move. All he could do was grip his wand tighter. He had never felt pain like this. He couldn't see. He couldn't think. He wasn't even sure he could breathe.

"I am disappointed in you, Barty," said a high, cold, cruel voice. “I thought you could manage one boy. Clean up this mess, Wormtail."

A mass of ropes descended over Harry’s body, twisting around him like worms. Pulling at him, at his broom, until he was totally, and completely - trapped.

He still had his wand. There was nothing he could do with it. But he had it.

Then a horrible, sickening crack. 

Harry felt the Firebolt break like it was his own arm.

He hit the ground, just as one of the voices above him yelled - " Stupefy! "

And everything went black.

Chapter Text

Harry, Viktor, and Draco slammed back into the safety of the Great Hall, tumbling over each other and clutching Dumbledore’s portkey. Harry did not trust himself to properly explain what had happened - Voldemort coming back, his Death Eaters turning on him, Professor Lupin catching Pettigrew, the patronuses, the shades of his parents… all dragging something sick and screaming out of him. He probably would have fallen over if Draco hadn’t held him up. Voldemort was gone, and that thought was too big for his brain to hold.

Thankfully it seemed like the teachers already knew what was going on. There had been a lockdown, like when Sirius had broken in during third year, but Dumbledore had sent word ahead that the danger had officially passed. This was good, because Harry wasn't sure how the teachers could have stopped the absolute tidal wave of confused Durmstrang students rushing at Viktor. He was speaking in rapid Bulgarian, gesturing at Harry, then at Draco. Harry caught a few names like 'Voldemort,' 'Dumbledore,' and 'Malfoy'… but had no way of knowing exactly what was being said.

What he did understand was the absolute cheer that went up after Viktor finished his story, and then suddenly Harry was being hugged by a lot of red-robed Durmstrang students, and swept out towards the grounds in the middle of a group of loud, celebrating Bulgarians. They were quickly joined by Gryffindors, and Slytherins, and who even knew who else.

The party was happening on the Drumstrang ship, since Karkaroff was gone and none of the remaining Hogwarts teachers seemed to have any authority the Durmstrang students recognized. Harry found himself up on a swaying deck eating something Draco called baklava, then someone found Karkaroff's stash of something called rakia, and Hermione and Ron were there as well. Ron crashed into him first thing, wrapping long arms around him in a bear hug.

Harry still had some vertigo left over from the graveyard, and something about the noise and the rocking of the ship… he wasn't sure if all these people even knew what they were celebrating, or if they were just caught up in excitement from the First Task, and the stress of the Death Eater threat suddenly being lifted. Ron stood solidly by his side, large enough and there enough to mostly stop people from touching him. But then the crowd got more boisterous, and Harry saw Draco and Hermione exchange glances.

Whatever silent conversation went on between the two of them prompted Draco to climb into the rigging and announce that he and Harry were going back to the Slytherin dungeons, because Professor Snape was also not coming back. Everyone was invited, butterbeer and music were promised… and somehow they got Harry into one of the little Hogwarts boats that moved independently across the lake. If it weren't for Ron, Hermione and Draco sitting all around him, Harry probably would have fallen out at least twice.

Draco talked so he didn't have too, filling in Ron and Hermione on everything that had happened. When they were halfway back to the castle the Weasley twins fell into step with them, arms full of mismatched holiday decorations.

"We got a bit of everything," said Fred.

"Can't do too much celebrating on an occasion like this," agreed George.

Harry saw some decorations from Christmas, some from Halloween. Even some of Lockhart’s pink Valentines’ day banners.

"We'll transfigure them into something better once we get things set up," Fred explained.

A knot of Durmstrang students passed, all holding bottles and one wearing a Bulgarian Quidditch banner as a cape. They waved and cheered. One of them shouted a word that sounded like “coupon.” The Weasleys shouted “coupon” back.

“That’s Bulgarian for ‘party,’” George said, sagely.

"It'll make people look for us harder if we try to hide," Draco whispered, leaning into Harry. "We can wait until the party's going, and then sneak out. Or else we can hide in the Hospital Wing all night and make Madame Pomfrey fight them off."

“I want to stay." Honestly, Harry didn’t mind the idea of hiding in the Hospital Wing, at least for now. But Madam Pomfrey would probably want to keep him there for ages, and besides - now that they weren't on the boat, the crowd had become much easier to deal with.

With Ron and the twins positioned around him like some kind of tall, redheaded security force, it actually felt good to sit on a couch in the Slytherin common room and listen as the noise of the party swirled around him. Harry was slowly beginning to feel more normal, although he still didn't feel much like talking. He had seen his parents tonight. His parents had said… they were proud of him.

Draco was quiet too. His eyes kept drifting over to the corner of the room where Crabbe and Goyle were laughing and celebrating along with everybody else. It took Harry a minute to figure out why.

"One of the -" he had to stop himself before he called them Death Eaters. Crabbe and Goyle Senior hadn’t been Death Eaters. Not at the end, anyway. "The one who died? Was it...?"

Draco nodded, once. "I need to... I need to talk to Greg."

"He's..." Harry knew this didn’t make it any better, but he'd been thinking about his parents and couldn’t help asking. "Does he have a mum still or is she...?"

"My parents will talk to his mother," Draco said. "I know they will. But no one's going to talk to Greg. And he shouldn't have to have to hear it from someone else. His father died fighting under my father's banner. No obligation goes deeper than that."

"Should I… go with you?" 

Draco shook his head. "Greg doesn't really know you. Wouldn't be fair to him. And you know - it's kind of my vow, not yours. No Goyle will want for anything while any Malfoy lives. That's how it goes."

"Okay, just..." Harry didn't really have anything to add. Draco was right. "Probably don't tell him in front of everybody?"

Draco didn't respond. Just stood, and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. Crossed the room to Crabbe and Goyle, and led them out of the room.

Ron came over and sat down in the place Draco had left. "Where's he off to?"

"His friend's dad died."

"Oh." Ron looked like that possibility hadn't even occurred to him.

"He was fighting on our side," said Harry.

Judging by Ron’s slightly guilty look he had been wondering. Harry couldn’t blame him. If their places had been switched, he probably would have been wondering the exact same thing.

It was a while before Draco returned, looking shaken and paler than usual. Ron stood up and patted his shoulder, then went off in the direction of Hermione, who was talking with Viktor about something that had her gesturing wildly.

Draco pulled his feet underneath him and tucked himself into the couch cushions. He looked like he needed a hug, so Harry put an arm along the back of the couch. Draco leaned into him. Harry didn't say anything. What could he say?

After a while, most people started to leave them alone. Hermione, Ron and Viktor drifted back over with things to eat. In the warmth of Draco, the food, the fire, and Ron and Viktor’s spirited conversation about long-distance flying, Harry finally began to feel like there was solid ground underneath his feet, again.

Chapter Text

Harry knew that he was probably supposed to be solving the egg clue, or at least focusing on his classes. But what he found himself thinking about most, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, was what gift to get for Sirius. Because he’d finally had his trial and was free now. Free, and innocent, and the whole world knew it. The Prophet ran an article about it next to a photo of Sirius' smiling face. Harry saved that picture, and pinned it up next to his bed. 

A few days after that, Sirius had stopped by Hogwarts. Harry had thought he was hallucinating when he saw his name pop up on the Map one morning, just casually walking through the Entrance Hall. A second later Harry was out of bed, buttoning up his buttons wrong as he ran.

Sirius looked thin and exhausted, and had said that he was just here to talk to Dumbledore and wouldn’t be able to stay too long. Harry trailed him up to the headmaster’s office anyway, hanging back when he went in, loitering on the spiral staircase just outside the door. He listened to Sirius explain to Dumbledore that - since the Black properties were under his control again - Harry was going to be living with him now.

Dumbledore hadn’t responded. Or maybe he had responded, only quietly, because after that Sirius had gotten intense. He had said he would happily use up every cent and every resource the Black family had, if that was what it took to keep Harry safe. That he had officially named Harry his heir. That Harry would not be going back to the Dursleys that summer. That Harry would not be going back to the Dursleys ever again. And if Dumbledore had a problem with that… then Sirius would just have to formally argue his case before the Wizengamot. Also, just so Dumbledore was aware, if the Wizengamot didn’t rule in his favor - Sirius was taking Harry, and disappearing for good.

That was it. Harry didn’t even register he was moving before he found himself flinging open that door and tackling Sirius into a hug. Even if Dumbledore said no, he’d tried. He’d tried, and he’d keep trying… until Harry didn't have to go back anymore. 

Sirius held Harry tight against his chest with one arm, while with the other he dumped some stuff onto Dumbledore’s desk. There was a locket decorated with an S he said he’d found while cleaning out his house, and a golden cup that Mrs. Malfoy had gotten out of her sister’s Gringotts vault. He said they should probably keep Dumbledore busy. 

Dumbledore had thanked Sirius, and said he knew exactly what to do with them. Then he’d said that if Harry wanted to stay with Sirius… of course he would be welcome to. 

And Harry still didn’t know what to get him! He tried asking Ron and Hermione for ideas, but they turned out to be no help at all. Hermione suggested books and newspapers about things Sirius had missed while in prison and Ron said, "Can't go wrong with candy." Which was a better suggestion, though not by much. 

"You have a godfather, right?" Harry asked Draco. Not even bothering with hello, when he found him sitting with the Slytherins at breakfast. 

Draco turned, elbow on the table, and regarded him. "Unless I've been disowned and no one told me."

"How do you figure out what to get him for Christmas?"

"Oh.” Draco brightened. “The trick with Severus is to get him something quite nice. He won't admit it, but he does have expensive taste. But you have to make it seem like an afterthought, you know? Last year I did a tea set that never lets your tea go cold and a bookmark that jumps back to the last page you were actually paying attention to. Ideally he doesn't realize the spellwork's there."  

Those were both really good gifts. Harry could picture Snape using both of them, which was strange in itself. He still was getting used to the idea that Snape did things other than prowl around the dungeons and take away house points. 

"I'm trying to pick out something for my godfather," he explained.

"Take a walk down by the lake with me," said Draco, over catcalls from his friends. Who were sort of Harry’s friends now, if only through Draco. "I need to think about this."

Draco was full of ideas the second they were out of earshot. 

"The Blacks are always getting their constellations engraved on watch cases and lighters and things. I doubt Sirius still has any of his after being disowned. Mother might have that same idea though, and since she’s a Black it might be more appropriate coming from her. I suppose you could always take things in a funny direction. Something like - dog toys. He'd probably use them. Apparently he likes to pad around the house as a dog for no particular reason." 

Harry made a face. That had been one of his few ideas. He hadn’t liked it much.

"All right. More earnest. That's fine." Draco considered. "What do you have in common? Or what do you like best about him?"

The answer was instantaneous. "He's fun."

"He does like motorbikes,” Draco observed. “And he wrecked his."

"I don't think I can get him a motorbike. Ron's dad's supposed to be in charge of making sure stuff like that doesn't happen." But that did give Harry an idea. When the answer came it was so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before.

 "A broom! I'll get him a broom! He always gets me brooms!" Harry said it loud enough to startle a large bird, pecking at the shore of the lake.

"How many brooms has he gotten you?!" asked Draco, mildly alarmed.

"There was the Firebolt. But he also got me a toy one, for my first birthday." Harry had only just learned about that, from a thank-you letter his mum had written. Sirius had found it while cleaning the house, and sent it to him.

Draco nodded his approval. "Yeah, that works. It's also, you know - flying, freedom. Good for after prison. Implies you want to go out flying with him. He also won't have bought one for himself yet."

Harry watched the bird he'd scared off settle on a branch higher off the ground. "Do you think he has an owl?"

"You don't get people owls. You won’t know if they need a fast one for local deliveries or a big one for long distances. Not everyone is Father, keeping an aviary." Draco was looking out towards the lake, and the wind ruffled his hair and reddened his cheeks in a way Harry liked.

He looked at Harry, then back to the lake.

"By the way..." he said. "Are you taking anyone to the Yule Ball?"

"They said I had to, since I’m a Champion. And that I have to learn how to dance."

"Well, I've been taking dancing lessons since I was six."

"So at least one of us will know what we're doing. Hey?" It was a stupid question, but Harry figured he had to ask. "I don’t have to invite a girl to the dance, do I?"

"Of course you don’t have to invite a girl. I'll dance the lead, because I'm taller and I'm a better dancer. You just didn't actually ask me yet."

"Oh good." Harry sighed in relief. "Because I wanted to go with you. You'll go, right?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, Potter. I'll go with you."

Harry smiled, and took his hand. "Maybe nobody'll notice me stepping on your toes." Then, when Draco didn't get it - "Because they'll be looking at you. And you can dance."

Draco took his other hand. "There's no way anyone who flies like you is a bad dancer."

Harry smiled, and looked away. Maybe the cold would hide just how much he was blushing.

A few days later, Draco invited him to spend Christmas at the Manor. Sirius was going to be there - and Lupin, and Hermione. Even Ron had gotten permission to come - apparently, there had been a romantic sort of article about Snape and Lupin in Witch Weekly his mum had really liked. Viktor Krum was coming too, choosing Christmas with them over Christmas on the Durmstrang ship. It looked like he and Hermione would be going to the Yule Ball together. Ron said that if Harry hadn't been spending so much time with Draco, he would have seen it coming a mile off.

Harry sent Hedwig ahead with a letter so he wouldn’t have to bother with her cage; he had a little more to carry than on his last trip. Viktor was happily carrying all of Hermione's bags and boxes, smiling at her as she talked animatedly about all the unique volumes in the Malfoy library. Ron was right. Harry really should have noticed.

The line at the fireplace in the Three Broomsticks moved fast. Soon Harry found himself taking a handful of Floo powder, saying "Malfoy Manor," and wondering for a split-second if maybe he was supposed to specify which fireplace - before being spit out onto the shiny marble floor of the Malfoy entrance hall. 

Then Harry looked up to see strings of tiny candles encased in glass beads, next to hovering snowflakes sparkling in the air. And Sirius. Looking younger and cleaner and more full of life than he ever had before. 

He held out his arms, and Harry scrambled up and flung himself into them. Squishing the long skinny box with the broom in it, but he didn't care.

Sirius held him tight against his chest, and didn't speak for a minute. "You doing all right?" he said hoarsely, as the others started coming through the fireplace behind them.

"Yeah." Harry grinned. Then he paused, remembering Witch Weekly. "You don't think Snape has Professor Lupin under a spell, do you?" He’d already asked Hermione, who didn’t think so... but Harry couldn't imagine anyone falling in love with Snape.

Sirius chuckled. "Remus is fine. Better than fine. Just has kind of strange taste."

"You're sure?"

"I promise," said Sirius. "Anyway. Seems like some of these Slytherins are all right, once you get to know them."

Harry let go of the hug and fiddled with the wrapping on his present. He couldn't help glancing over at Draco, very imperiously directing everyone to their rooms. The Malfoy snowflakes had settled into his sleek hair like tiny jewels. Now that Harry had his new glasses, he could see that perfectly.

He wanted to stay and talk to Sirius, but Hermione was already down the hall introducing Viktor to the portrait she had befriended, which Draco seemed to think was extremely embarrassing tourist behavior. Before Harry could intervene though, Ron had set his things down with a loud flump. "Mum asked me to invite you to the Burrow next time you get the chance,” he said, to Sirius. “I think she feels bad about what happened. And about the whole..." he looked a little queasy. "The whole Scabbers thing." 

They were told to put their presents under the tree in the big drawing room, and the rest of their things up in the rooms where they would be sleeping. Christmas dinner would be at six o'clock, and after that presents and dancing. Harry tried not to smile too much when he walked past the secret passage to Draco’s room. He'd brought the Cloak with him. Just in case. 

"Sort of expected my room to be like the Slytherin common room. But bigger,” observed Ron. “There’s not even any snakes in there." 

"You don't decorate your house in lions."  

“Yeah, but it’s the Malfoys. If Ginny asks, my room here was full of snakes. Snakes for the doorknobs, and also the toilet flusher was a snake, and I’m sleeping in a giant snake’s… mouth, or something.”

It turned out that Hermione had neglected to actually tell anyone that she would be bringing Viktor Krum. However, the Malfoys didn’t seem especially bothered by this, and Viktor was too busy gazing fuzzily at her to notice any confusion. Draco had peeled off to find him a room and help him get settled, and Harry only realized that he'd been gazing sort of fuzzily after Draco when he turned back around to look at Ron. 

Who was grinning at him. 

"What?" Harry knew what.

"Saw you packed the Cloak."

"So." He could feel himself blushing.

"Nothing." Ron said, innocently. "If anyone asks, I heard you snoring all night. Just, make sure Hermione doesn't catch you. She wants to be Head Girl someday. Might decide sending you back to your room counts as practice." 

Once his presents were safely under the tree, Harry went to go check on Hedwig. This place definitely had an owlery, and he didn’t think it could be that hard to find. But that was how he and Ron ended up out on the lawn, squinting back up at the house.

"Don't know why you think this'll help. Stairs could be all different inside." Ron turned his head sideways, to see if that made a difference. 

Harry shook his head. "Hedwig doesn't like when spaces connect up how they shouldn't. That’s why she only uses some of the windows at the Burrow."

"Does she?"

"Yeah."

"Weird. Do all owls do that?" 

A large white peacock shuffled over to peck at the ground in front of them.

"I don't have anything for you," Harry apologized. "You wouldn't happen to have seen an owl that looks like you? Same shade in the feathers?"

The peacock stopped pecking at the ground and looked at him. Made no response.

"Oi, Harry!" Ron's voice was coming from the opposite direction. "I think I found it! Right through this… sculpture garden."

Harry rounded the corner, past some marble nymphs who shook snow off their shoulders as he passed, to a round building with little peacock-head shaped door handles, and stonework designed to look like feathers. At the top of the building, gazing down in an amused sort of way - was Hedwig.

"There you are!"

Now found, she glided smoothly down to land on his outstretched arm. Harry knew he should probably get a glove for this, especially when she dug in with her talons. But honestly, he didn't mind. Hedwig started pecking around his hair like he might be hiding treats.

"I didn't bring any! I know. I'm sorry. I'll see if they have some here. I bet they do."

"Yours is a beautiful owl." Lucius Malfoy’s drawling voice came from deep within the depths of the owl-tower. Then the man himself emerged, cane clicking on stone. A peacock pecked at his heels, as he considered them.

"You must be Arthur Weasley's son," he said, fixing an eye on Ron. "I must say, I am surprised you were allowed to set foot on the premises. Or perhaps you are a spy from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Should I expect another raid in the future?"

Harry could feel Ron tense, like he was about to draw his wand. Harry wouldn't blame him if he did.

"Don't talk about my dad like you think you're better than him.”

Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"I was not aware that I was. Merely commenting on a rather dramatic reversal of policy." He stepped closer to them, and the hem of his long cloak swirled. "I would have thought that I'd at least have been the subject of a frightening bedtime story. Or do I have it wrong? Perhaps I flatter myself with my own importance."

"If Harry says you weren't trying to kill Ginny, then I believe him,” Ron said. “But that doesn't make us friends." Then, seemingly unable to stop himself  - "If you say anything even a little mean about Hermione, I'll hex you."

"Oh. I am aware," said Lucius Malfoy. "I assume you have a wand that actually works this time. Unlike when Draco so unwisely insulted Miss Granger."

Ron's hand twitched, then stopped. Confused, as he worked through what Mr. Malfoy had said.

"I er... yeah. I do."

"Er... Ron and I were wondering…” said Harry. Thinking that it would maybe be smart to change the subject. “Where you keep the owl treats."

Ron gave him a look that said very clearly he hadn't been wondering that.

Mr. Malfoy vaguely waved a hand in the direction of the owl tower. "The peacocks enjoy them." Then he swept past them back up to the house, robes fluttering.

Inside the owl-building was a towering perch of interconnected branches, radiating out from the center in a kind of sculpted tree. Two large eagle owls and a single enormous raven glared down at them. Hedwig ignored them, hopping to a perch next to a row of jars. One was labeled Peacocks, and filled mostly with dried mealworms. Others were full of peanuts, or birdseed. Hedwig clicked her beak on the one labeled Owl Treats, and looked at it expectantly. 

"You really think he'll do it?" asked Ron.

"Do what?" The eagle owls had fluttered closer to Harry, when he reached into the container.

"You know. Be decent to Hermione."

"He was last time."

"You believe him? I mean - that he's changed his mind about all that stuff?"

"Dunno.” Harry watched Hedwig devour the first owl treat with glee. “Probably not. But if he acts like he has, I guess it doesn't matter."

"Right. So long as he keeps acting like it."

"Yeah." Harry couldn’t say that he was exactly comfortable with that either.

"He did fight You-Know-Who though." Ron added, after a minute of thought. "That has to mean something."

"So did Snape."

"Still weird to think about him and Professor Lupin..."

"Yeah." It was strange, no matter what Hermione or Witch Weekly said. "Did you know his Patronus is a bat?"

"Snape? No way!" Ron laughed. "'Course the greasy git’s a bat. What do you think mine'd be?"

Harry thought about it, as he gave treats to the Malfoy birds too. "Professor Lupin’d probably teach you. He says he’s going to teach Draco over the summer." Harry had tried to teach Draco, but hadn’t gotten very far. The idea made Ron brighten. 

"Come on. Let's go ask!"

Harry sealed the jar and then, grabbing a handful of mealworms for the peacocks, headed back up towards the main house.

They found Lupin in the largest sitting room, the one that had a chandelier dripping with icicles and a towering Christmas tree covered in tiny candles. Harry saw the back of his head first, sitting on a low sofa and gazing at the fire, a goblet in his hand. It took him a second to realize that Snape was here too, curled up low beside him. Harry had no idea how to react to him being there. So he just pretended he wasn’t.

"Harry!" said Professor Lupin, turning around. "Ron!"

Ron visibly startled when he saw Snape. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Ron and I were wondering if you'd teach him how to cast a Patronus charm,” said Harry. “Not right now," he added. "Not if you're, er... busy."

"I'm not busy. If you would really like to, we have a few hours before dinner and a boggart in a cupboard upstairs. But I will warn you, Ron - and Harry will tell you - that this sort of practice does take a great deal out of you emotionally. I would not wish for you to be tired tonight, or for the ball tomorrow."

Harry hadn't thought of that.

"I figured." Ron looked a little disappointed, but recovered. "What about this summer? You'll be teaching Draco anyway."

"You would want to visit this summer?" said Lupin, mildly surprised. "I thought this visit was only due to Hogwarts emptying out before the dance."

Ron shrugged. "I mean… if Harry's going to visit..."

Professor Lupin smiled at the two of them. "I expect you will see a great deal of me, then."

Snape smiled at Lupin. It made his face look weird.

"Do you know where Draco is?"  asked Harry. Not really wanting to stay longer than he had to, because of Snape.

"I believe he was setting things up for our unexpected guest,” said Lupin. “Ask the paintings, they always seem to know where people can be found.”

"Thanks!" said Harry, and a second later he and Ron were out the door, away from where their former teachers were keeping watch over the presents.

Disappointingly, Viktor Krum seemed to be very interested in taking Hermione on walks through the snow-covered Malfoy gardens, and not especially interested in flying. Draco had explained this when Harry and Ron finally found him out near the frozen reflecting pool. Far at the other end, Viktor and Hermione were strapping on ice skates.

"I didn't know she knew how to skate." Harry sat down beside Draco, and watched as Viktor took Hermione’s hand. He swung her around in a big arc and she went easily, laughing. It was nice.

Draco glanced at Harry, and then at Ron. "I've been practicing my chess game, Weasley," he said. "I've gotten better."

Ron, who had been watching Hermione with a soft sort of expression, turned his attention to Draco with a wicked grin. "Yeah? It'd be hard for you to get worse."

 "I had to borrow Theo's chess set, I told you. All the family chessmen are here, I was at a disadvantage."

"Keep telling yourself that, mate."

Draco stared very pointedly to Harry. "This may take a while. If you wanted to go flying with Sirius, the Nimbus and my old Comet are up in my room. Feel free to borrow them."

"Thanks." Harry hesitated and then, steeling himself - leaned over and gave Draco a peck on the cheek. It still felt like a lot in front of Ron and Hermione and Viktor. It was worth it though, for how happy and floaty he felt as he pulled away.

"Sorry to steal your boyfriend." Ron didn't sound sorry at all. "You can comfort him after he loses."

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco pretended not to hear. Personally Harry hoped he wiped the floor with Ron for that comment… but that was pretty unlikely. Draco was good at chess, but Ron was very good at chess.

He left Ron and Draco to it, figuring that the portraits would know how to find Sirius. After talking to a few of them without learning anything, Harry started asking if they had seen a huge black dog instead. This strategy worked, and it turned out that Sirius was in the room with the big Christmas tree, doing last-minute wrapping and generally bothering Lupin and Snape.

"Um, Sirius? Hermione and Krum are out ice skating. Ron's beating Draco at chess. But, I mean… since he has two brooms, I thought… if you wanted… "

Sirius looked up. Slowly, a smile crept across his face. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"I know you didn't play Seeker, but - "

"Harry. I would love nothing more than to go flying with you."

Harry got a jolt of happiness so intense that for a second he had to look away. He pushed his glasses up his nose. Out of habit, not because he needed to.

"Draco’s brooms are in his room. The Comet's older and not as good as the Nimbus, but it's still decent."

"That's probably better,” said Sirius, standing. “More what I'm used to."

Harry hadn't thought of that. Maybe he should have gotten Sirius a Comet 260 instead of a Nimbus 2000? "What broom… did you use to fly?" he asked, as they walked.

"I had a Silver Arrow back in school. They don't make them anymore." That name probably would have meant something to Ron, but Harry had never heard of it. "People used to talk about how the balance got finicky over time. In my day all the pro teams rode Comets. But it looks like the fashionable racing brooms are all handmade again. Things come back around."

"My Firebolt has - " Harry caught himself. " Had trouble with corners. But it was fine so long as you used your whole body to turn. The Nimbus almost does the turning for you, but I don't like it as much since you can't go as fast."

Sirius laughed. "You sound like your dad."

"I do!?" No one had ever told him that. Only that he looked like him. They had arrived at Draco's room, but for the moment Harry had forgotten all about brooms. He wanted to hear more about his dad.

"Oh yeah," said Sirius, smiling. "You fly like him too. Especially the way that you dive."

Harry had realized something. "You can come to my Quidditch games!" 

"And I don't even have to be disguised as a dog."

There was too much of everything to contain inside himself. Harry felt like he had to fly now, or else he would burst. The brooms were exactly where Draco said, and Harry grabbed the Nimbus, left the Comet for Sirius, and bolted down the stairs. The second he was out in the grounds, he kicked Draco's broom into the air, and Sirius followed.

The first thing Harry did was take a wide curve out over the forest and down to the lake, out by the fake ruins. The snow added a silence and unreality to everything, like he was looking at pictures in a book. But Sirius flying beside him - that was real. So was the way Harry could look down and see the ground, even while covered in white. He rolled his broom to the side, darted off into the ruins. Showing off more than he would have, if there were a Snitch to look for.  

Sirius probably hadn't flown in a while, but he laughed and put on a burst of speed towards Harry, the wind blowing back his hair. It made Harry think of the graveyard, of the bright lights of Sirius' motorbike cutting through the gloom as he barreled into the circle of Death Eaters.

Harry brought the Nimbus up into a steep climb, until he was hoving high above the Manor. He could see the red speck of Hermione’s scarf far below, two tiny figures skating across the reflecting pool, carving graceful figure-eights. His nose was getting cold. He probably should have brought a scarf too. But he didn’t really care, as he pitched forward into a dive. With the wind in his face, he couldn’t care enough about the cold to want to stop.

He accelerated. Faster, and faster - until he reached the exact limit of what he could recover from. He waited, one second. Two. Then threw himself into a climb, spraying a wall of snow.

Sirius flew around him as he climbed, corkscrewing. Pure joy on his face.

"Draco's nearly as good as me,” said Harry.

"You sure about that?" shouted Sirius, over the wind. "Or are you just saying that because you like him?"

Harry laughed. Couldn't stop laughing. He flew at the ground, slower this time, and leaned off his broom to scoop up a snowball. Sirius realized what he was about to do and dodged, just in time.

"You're going to have to do better than that!" Sirius’ wand was out of his sleeve, and then a perfectly-made snowball was rising up into the air.

"That's not fair!" shouted Harry.

Sirius didn’t even have to touch it, just used his levitating charm to slingshot it at Harry. He missed, but was close. Already, he was summoning up another one, eyes crinkling.

Harry was laughing again as he flew closer to the ground, using the Manor’s railings and wide stone staircases as cover. Sirius was close on his tail. Swish. A snowball flew past his ear. A second one clipped his shoulder. They were coming faster than Sirius could have thrown by hand. Pelted with snowballs, Harry picked up speed and angled up, flying at a tree with thick, snow-laden branches. Right before he got there - stopped. Pulled up, but kicked at the branches, dumping a huge amount of snow on Sirius' head.

Sirius went down, piled under the snowdrift. When he broke through, he was wet and laughing and shaking his hair just like he did when he was a dog.

Harry landed in the snow. It was deeper than he thought, and he stumbled as he ran to Sirius. His godfather was laughing too hard to manage a warming charm, but on his second try it worked. He cast the same spell on Harry - and suddenly everything he was wearing was warm, like it had been taken fresh from the dryer.

"You have to teach me that snowball spell!" Harry hadn't known there was a snowball spell. He was pretty sure no one at Hogwarts knew either, or else they would be using it all the time.

"Like this - opulus viburnum," said Sirius. “Do a circle with your wrist when you cast. Otherwise they come out as stars and triangles."

Harry tried it. Didn’t get anything. Tried again, and got one that turned out lumpy. Sirius hadn't been expecting him to actually throw it though, so it was a good solid hit.

They both took off. The sun was setting, but Harry didn't care. He was flying with Sirius. This summer, he'd be going home with Sirius. When the snow began to fall around them, lit by the waning moon and the bright windows of the house, it felt like a blessing.

Once they’d both been hit with snowballs more times than Harry could count, he landed. Sirius was running towards him. Then he was a dog, running towards him faster.

Harry opened his arms to catch the huge black dog in a hug. Tighter than he would have hugged a normal dog. Maybe even a little tighter than he should have hugged him. But Sirius was warm and fluffy, and didn’t seem to mind. Then he was a person, hugging him back. Harry didn't say anything. Sirius had said he flew like his dad.

"We should go inside. It's getting dark. They've got food and gifts for you." Sirius' hug might have been too hard too.

"Okay." Harry didn’t want to let go. He would have skipped Christmas in a second, to spend the whole day flying with his godfather. 

Harry and Sirius stamped back inside, only to be met at the main staircase by a very sour looking Draco - and a very smug looking Ron.

Draco had an armful of wrapped packages, and shoved one of them in Harry’s direction. "Early Christmas present. Mother says you're dressing properly for dinner. I don't think she trusts either of you." He threw the other box at Ron. "Granger's wearing silk."

Sirius slouched, hands in his pockets, trying to hide a smile. "Better put those on. I don't think I’d cross Cousin Narcissa. Blacks can get kind of funny about that sort of thing. My mother used to transfigure the clothes I was wearing into bedsheets, whenever I didn't change for dinner."

Ron was already tearing into the present - and gave an audible sigh of relief at what he found.

"Bloody hell, mate. I owe you for this." He was holding deep indigo dress robes that were a massive improvement over the ones he had. These wouldn't make him look like a doily that had sprouted legs.

"Yes, well," said Draco. "I figured it couldn't hurt to have a Weasley owe me a favor."

Harry went to open his own, curious as to what color Draco had picked. He didn't have very many opinions on dress robes, beyond the fact Ron’s were obviously horrible. But unlike last time he had dinner at the Manor… he thought he'd be pretty happy with whatever Draco chose.

The new dress robes were a deep burgundy velvet, so dark that they seemed black, except for when they caught in the light in just the right way to make folds in the fabric look red. Harry could already tell that they would make him look cool, and a little mysterious. Kind of like -

"Before you say anything, yes they are supposed to go with mine, since we are opening the dancing tomorrow," said Draco. "But not in an obnoxious, too-obvious way."

"Oh." That was true too. But Harry had actually been thinking that the dress robes reminded him of Sirius. Which was good, because Sirius was the coolest person he knew. "No, I like them."

He felt Sirius' hand on his shoulder. Wondered if maybe he had helped pick them out. If his smile was anything to go by, Harry thought the answer was probably yes.

The dress robes took a little figuring out, and in the end Ron had to help him with the fastenings. But once he got them on, Harry really liked how they looked. It was nice, having another set of clothes besides his school robes that really felt like his. He wondered what Draco would think. He wondered what Draco would be wearing. 

"Thanks for inviting me." Ron said, startling Harry out of his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I was a prick." Ron turned to fix his hair in the mirror, instead of looking at him directly. "When you and Draco started going out - I thought it meant you didn't want to be friends anymore."

"Why would you -?"

"I know. Just - " Ron stopped pretending to fix his hair and turned to face Harry. "You're my best mate. Then you start sneaking off with him all the time and I think that tosser's - I mean, I didn't know about the..." he looked like he was searching for a word."The muggle stuff. So when you didn't say anything about him, even though we're best mates I thought… that was it."

"What?"

Ron shrugged. "Thought I'd been replaced."

Harry started laughing. Ron crossed his arms.

"I know I had it wrong, just  - bloody hell - I'm sorry okay? I'm trying to apologize."

"Yeah,” Harry said. “It's fine. Come on, it’s Draco Malfoy. I'd be mad at me too!"

Ron punched his shoulder, grinning.

"Hey!" Harry managed to twist away, then stopped to check his robes in the mirror again.

"You look fine." Ron grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the door. "We take any longer, they'll change their minds about hosting a Weasley for dinner." 

Draco was waiting for them at the end of the hallway. He looked good. His dress robes were black - not green made to look black in certain lights, but actually black. Vines and flowers embroidered in gold thread crawled up his cuffs, and down his front. As Harry got closer, one of the vines turned to look at him and he realized that most of them were actually snakes, holding exceptionally still. Even with the magical embroidery, something about the clothing’s clean sleek cut said fashion model more than it said wizard. Those sleeves drew attention to Draco's hands, and Harry found himself staring at those too.

"Shall we to dinner?" said Draco. Sounding, incredibly, even more posh than he normally did. "I'm glad those robes worked out, Weasley. I suppose you're tall so most things suit you. Yet, given the choice, somehow you insist on wearing orange."

"At least I haven't made my Hogwarts house my whole personality."

"At least I haven't made my quidditch team my whole personality."

"The Cannons are a good team. This year's going to be their year. Just wait."

Harry slipped his hand into Draco's. A lot of things he'd never thought possible were happening recently. Maybe the Chudley Cannons winning the league would be another. "Know who's sitting where?" Hopefully he wouldn’t be stuck next to Snape.

"We won't be next to each other,” said Draco. “Father thinks putting couples together cuts down on conversation, and he will have picked the seating arrangements."

"Oh." Harry didn't even try to hide his disappointment.

"But there will be presents and dancing after."

"Presents or dancing first?" Harry hoped presents. Keeping secrets was hard and he was starting to have second thoughts about what he’d gotten Draco.

"Presents," said Draco. "By the tree." 

When they got to the dining room, the first thing Harry noticed was the pretty girl in blue. He wondered for a second if the Malfoys had invited more guests before realizing that was Hermione.

Her hair was pinned up except for where it floated around her face in ringlets. The dress she was wearing seemed to float too, and the combination of periwinkle-blue silk and general lightness made Harry think of the sky on days when the snow first started to melt. Only prettier, and smiling.

Viktor Krum was staring at her from across the dining room, speechless.

She was so deep in conversation with Professor Lupin she must not have seen him. Harry saw the moment she noticed him looking, and her bright smile got even brighter. As she turned her dress seemed to flow around her, caught in a light breeze all its own. Viktor was wearing an equally impressive set of Durmstrang-red dress robes, complete with fur-lined cape. Suddenly, Harry was much less worried about forgetting his dance steps in the middle of the Yule Ball. If he did, Draco would be the only person who noticed.

"Viktor." Hermione’s voice was soft, in a way that Harry did not think he had ever heard before.

Viktor kissed the back of her hand. "You are beautiful."

Her soft laugh was almost more of a sigh, and it suddenly felt like something Harry wasn't supposed to be witnessing. Clearly, the rest of them were unimportant, and this entire day had only existed so Hermione could have this moment.

Then floating candelabras like organic coral reefs popped to life all along the dining table. Harry found himself sitting between Ron and Sirius, and across from Lupin, staring at food that was so beautiful he wasn’t sure if they were actually supposed to eat it. The ice cube in his glass was a snowflake the size of his palm, and most of the dishes moved, or defied gravity, or had been made into tiny dioramas. The pudding looked exactly like a pumpkin for no reason Harry could figure out. It wasn’t even pumpkin flavored. Serving the food was complicated enough that most things required a wand, and he set out to copy Mrs. Malfoy as best he could.

“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” played from the room itself as Ron passed him a crystal pitcher of eggnog - and Harry suddenly had the heart-stoppingly horrible thought of what would happen if he were to drop it. Memories of every time he'd been blamed for something breaking at the Dursleys blasted through his head at once.

He managed to pour himself some eggnog without spilling, then pass the pitcher over to Lupin. So focused on what he was doing that it took a second for the words everyone else was saying to filter back in.

Sirius looked down at him. Squeezed his shoulder. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll do things much more casually at our place. Purebloods are always like this." He took a sip from his crystal goblet. "Got to give your boyfriend a chance to show off, after all."

Harry was glad to hear it wasn't always going to be like this. Where he didn't know how to act, or what to say.

"I understand wanting people to know, but I can't believe you let Rita Skeeter do the interview,” Hermione was saying to Lupin. She seemed perfectly comfortable.

"She has a very wide readership," said Lupin, mildly. "And Lucius had both something she wanted, and something to threaten her with. I promise you, I felt perfectly safe."

"Yes, but..." Hermione paused in that way she did when she didn't really have a good reason for objecting, only felt that she was more right. "Somebody else could have done better justice to your story."

"She has a rather purple prose style, yes," said Lupin. "But the response from just that one article has been overwhelming, and very encouraging."

Hermione still didn't look happy. "She didn't spend nearly enough time on how you fell in love. I'd have done things differently."

“You would have, would you?" Across the table, Lupin was grinning at her.

"Yes! He fell in love with you as the wolf. And she just leaves that to one quote!"

"Remus, you have to admit that is romantic," said Mrs. Malfoy, from Hermione's other side.

Romantic was a bit much. Harry guessed that the article had made Snape seem less awful, and he could sort of see why Draco and Lupin and Mrs. Weasley thought he was all right. But it was still Snape.

On his other side, Ron was on his very best behavior, using much better table manners than Harry had seen from him before. He had started a conversation about brooms in the pro leagues. It turned out that Ron did have opinions on the Silver Arrow, and so did Viktor Krum.

"De Firebolt is more like early Silver Arrows den Nimbus or Comet," Viktor was saying, while gazing down the table at Hermione. She did indeed look very nice, face illuminated in candlelight. "Design is almost same. Only gooder materials. Even same problems with belence."

"It’s better than the Lightningrod." Ron said the name like Harry should know it. "If the Cannons had replaced their brooms sooner, Aidan Hornby'd probably be coaching them by now."

"We could make brooms dat did not lose tails four hundred years ago. Lightnikrods are fest, not strong. Hornby was a good Seeker. We should not hef lost him." 

Ron was silent. Then said quietly, "You're probably the best Seeker since him."

"I am honored you tink so," said Viktor.

At the end of the meal, full of food and eggnog, the whole group went through to the parlor to see the Christmas tree, now decorated with tiny jeweled birds hopping on their branches and fluttering their wings. Everyone found places to sit around the fire, and contemplated the mound of presents. Harry noticed that Mr. Malfoy had a prosthetic leg, like Moody did. Somehow he hadn't realized that before.

Hermione and Viktor snagged the loveseat, and rather than take one of the chairs, Harry joined Ron on the floor. It was still strange to see Snape sitting so close to Lupin. But two years ago he would’ve said that the only way he’d be spending Christmas at Malfoy Manor was if the Imperius curse was involved. At a nod from his parents, Draco stood. He walked around the room, depositing presents in each of their laps. Harry's was quite small; Ron's, Hermione's and Viktor's medium sided. The big square box Draco dragged in front of Lupin and Snape was almost suspiciously large.

Ron looked at his present like he was afraid it would bite. Harry decided that the best thing would be to dive in first, and so ripped through a layer of wrapping paper and a second layer of tissue to reveal - a flat box. Inside there was a small compass, sitting on a bed of velvet.

"It’s for your broom," said Draco, sitting next to him. "You tell it where you want to go, and it'll point you. And if you turn the knob at the bottom there - that triggers a disillusionment charm, that turns you and your broom invisible."

Harry lifted it out of the box. Turned it over. All those times at the Dursleys, he'd wondered what would happen if he got on his broom and flew away. If he'd had this, he could have. Of course it wouldn’t have worked. He knew he’d had to stay with them for a reason. But the idea of it. Spending the day in the air, with no one able to find him. Flying to Hogwarts without getting in trouble, if the train refused to take him. This was so much better than what he’d gotten Draco.

Draco shrugged, and looked away. "I got it before we knew you would be staying the summer with your godfather. And I don't know. Would have come in useful at the graveyard."

If it weren't for everyone else watching, Harry would have kissed him.

Next to them, Ron opened his gift. "A Queen's Case! For chess. You know,” he said, at Harry’s expression. “Because queens can move so many ways. You put your chessmen in it and take them with you. Look." Ron closed the lid of the box and did something halfway between a fold and a twist, so it shrunk down to about the size of a pocket watch."You sure this is a smart move, Malfoy? You can barely win when I’m using your set.”

"I fully expect to regret your and Granger's gifts," said Draco. "But I couldn't think of anything better."

Hermione had also received a box, one that was made of wood and about the size of a briefcase. Draco motioned her over to a flat, empty bit of floor. Then directed her to set it down, and when he opened it - the box expanded, half like a tree growing, half like a piece of furniture assembling. Until it was a small, but very real-looking printing press.

Hermione’s hands covered her mouth. She gasped. Then she bounced a little where she stood and threw her arms around Draco in a hug. Draco looked intensely awkward about the whole thing.

"You seemed interested in journalism lately and - I don't know. Figured you could get some use out of it." Draco broke away, to deposit two more packages in her arms, which turned out to be ink and a packet of blank paper to go along with the miniature printing press.

"Draco!" For a moment, Hermione was speechless. Then the surprise was replaced with a gleam in her eye that could only mean she was making plans. "How does it work? No, wait. You can show me later. Oh this is amazing. Do you fold it away by - " she must have figured it out, as the entire thing folded in on itself and went back to being a smooth wooden box. She scooped it up in her arms and hugged it, then went to sit down next to Viktor. Grinning from ear to ear, with no signs of ever stopping.

Ron handed a strangely shaped gift to Draco. "Come on. Open it. Mine's for chess too."

Draco ripped open the parcel to reveal two packages of Bertie Bott's. One was labeled GOOD, the other AWFUL. He shook the 'AWFUL' package in Ron's direction. "These are forfeits I assume? For the loser of a chess game?"

"Or Exploding Snap, if you think luck's more your strength than strategy. Took ages to separate them out." Bertie Bott’s were made to resist sorting charms. "And none of the just okay flavors either, like cut grass. Only the really awful ones."

"This should make things interesting," said Draco. It also looked like he was having ideas, looking at them. "I appreciate the sacrifice it must have taken to assemble these."

"You have no idea. There's a few in there I didn't know existed before now."

Draco smiled a wide, genuine smile. Then carefully stacked the two boxes on the floor beside him, and nodded at Ron. "Challenge accepted." 

"What have they gotten us?" Snape drawled, opening his gift with almost as much suspicion as Ron had. Then he revealed - a fish tank. The same one, Harry thought, that had been in Lupin's office last year. The one where he'd kept red caps, hinkypunks, and all sorts of other interesting things.

Draco was picking at the embroidery on his sleeve. "I know it's not really a present. Since you left it behind last year. But I found it, fixed it back up. It's got self-cleaning, and heating, other charms like that now. The plants and things in it are new." He looked up at Severus. "For your house, you know."

Snape smiled at him. This wasn't the kind of smile he gave during potions class, right before he was about to take points away from Gryffindor. The smile he gave Draco was more like the ones Sirius gave Harry.

"I know exactly where we'll put it."

"Draco - " said Lupin. "Thank you.” He was beaming. Harry did not think he had ever seen him so happy.

Before he lost his nerve, Harry dug through the unopened pile of presents for the tiny box he’d gotten for Draco. His present was a little embarrassing. But he'd also had it picked out for a while.

He watched as Draco carefully unwrapped it. Then watched him look up, and meet Harry's eyes when he saw the jewelry box underneath the paper. He opened it, and let the silver locket on the long chain drop down from his fingers.

"I got that before I knew I’d be staying with Sirius,” said Harry. “It's.... you put someone's picture inside of it, and then it gets warm when they're thinking about you." He'd seen it in a shop in Hogsmeade. The witch selling it had called it a Lover's Locket.

Draco immediately fastened it around his neck, and tucked it inside his robes. He then leaned over, to kiss Harry. "I love it."

Harry felt himself blushing. Not just because of the kiss in front of everyone, but also because - he hadn't been sure if Draco would like it.

Viktor was opening up a scarf that stopped anyone from taking a photograph of your face, and passing his own small box to Hermione. Who opened it just as methodically as she would have wrapped it. It was perfume. Harry didn't think that was all that special, but she seemed to. After spritzing some on her wrists, she got up, went to the tree, and handed Viktor a small box about the size of a Rubik's cube. Viktor unwrapped a small jar that Harry was pretty sure was Floo powder, and then Hermione, blushing and grinning, handed him an envelope. Harry could see the words "Open Me Second" written on it.

Viktor read the note silently. Then reached out, and found Hermione's fingers.

"Blagodarya ti mnogo.”

"You'll come?" She looked hopeful.

"Da," said Viktor. "Yes. I will let you know my trainink schedule."

"Oh I can't wait! My parents are going to love you. Mum's already making plans to take you on a trip to the British Museum."

Viktor looked very pleased with all of this. For the rest of them, he'd brought a large box full of game day snitches and Bulgarian national team scarves and pennants. Told Harry and Ron and Draco to take anything they liked, and handed a bottle of something brown to his hosts.

"Merlin's beard," Ron whispered. He looked like his eyes might pop out of his head. "If I don't get him to sign some of this, I think my family will disown me."

"You'll manage it. Just look at him," Draco whispered. "I didn’t think he could be in such a good mood."

"I should have gotten him a better present. Anyway…” With that, Ron picked up a medium sized box and gave it to Viktor. "Since you said you don’t have them in Bulgaria."

But Viktor was utterly charmed by the Chocolate Frogs. He loved how they would try to hop away when freed from their packaging, and would give them a head start before snatching them out of the air mid-leap. The cards were also a good feature, because they sparked conversation with Hermione, who enjoyed pointing out when the details they included were misleading, simplified, or impossible to prove.

Then Ron went to hand an extremely strangely shaped object to Lupin. Harry was guessing it was one of those things they used in astronomy class, until Lupin unwrapped it - and then Harry recognized it immediately. Lupin, however, still seemed completely baffled.

"It's called a sprinkler," Ron said. “Dad picked it up, and charmed it so water comes out. It's muggle, so you can't leave it lying around. But I told him you'd be careful with it and I thought- Harry said how much fun you had running around during the full moon - " He seemed to realize he hadn't explained what it did. "You put it outside and it sprays water everywhere. Muggles use them to keep their grass from dying."

"Oh Ron," said Lupin. "This will be perfect for our garden. And yes, you are quite right. The wolf... the wolf will enjoy this too." He looked up, and made eye contact. "Thank you."

Ron just stood there, awkward. Looked at Snape. Decided against saying anything else, and then retreated to hand Harry a soft and lumpy gift, not particularly well wrapped. an>

"Come on,” Ron said. “Open it."

Harry did. To reveal a - scarf? A rainbow scarf? He unfolded it, noticing that the knitting was  uneven in places.

"Ron, we were going to give them those presents last!" Hermione grabbed a similarly-sized package, and threw it at Draco. "Open this now."

"Hermione explained,” said Ron. “I didn't know about the muggle stuff when I was being a berk before. So I wanted you to know it's okay. She said you'd know what it meant."

Harry ran the scarf between his fingers, and felt something ball up in his chest.

"S’not perfect. But Hermione told me the colors, and Mum got the yarn. But she didn’t have time to make it with all the jumpers, so uh... I did. Since you're my best mate."

Harry didn't know what to say. The scarf was really gay. Definitely not something he'd be comfortable wearing around muggle London. But he might wear it at Hogwarts.

"Oh, and I'm supposed to tell you Mum's proud of you."

Harry pulled him into a sudden, tight hug.

Draco opened his package to reveal a similar, but much more neatly-made scarf. Rainbow, to match Harry's.

"This is a muggle thing you said?" He slung it around his neck. With the white hair, it honestly kind of worked. "Give it to the end of the year. Everyone will want one." Hermione looked quite pleased at his reaction.

He'd given Hermione one of the bookmarks that Draco had told him about, the ones that magically kept your place. Her gift to Harry was a bag of enchanted owl treats. "They also make treats for Kneazles. Crookshanks loves them. But they do try to run away when you open the bag." Ron looked disgusted, but promptly recovered when she handed him his present. But once he tore off the wrapping… the disappointment was back.

"A quill?"

"Read the box, Ron. It's a Spelling's Spelled Quill. It fixes your handwriting and punctuation as you go, and corrects your misspellings. It's the only one that's approved for exams. I double checked with Professor McGonagall to make sure."

"Oh!" Ron seemed significantly happier. 

"It doesn't take notes for you. But we still have mostly the same classes together next year, so that shouldn't matter."

"It's great, Hermione." Ron smiled as he tucked the quill away, and opened Harry’s big box of candy. Harry had tried to put in as many new types as he could, so he and Ron could try them together. There were even some of the miniature dragon eggs Honeydukes had started selling after the first task.

Now all that was left was Harry's gift for Sirius. He was so excited, it was a miracle he'd managed not to say anything. Picking up the long skinny box, he brought it over to his godfather. Fought the nearly irresistible urge to start talking, before Sirius could finish opening it.

When he finally looked down at the Nimbus 2000 - Sirius didn't even speak. Just stood up, and gripped Harry to him, so tightly.

Harry hugged him back. "I couldn't find you another bike"

"It's perfect," said Sirius, into his hair. "It's perfect."

Harry needed a minute before he could speak. And even then, only managed a soft "thank you."

Sirius held him close. 

"Oh Harry," he said. "I never even let myself wish for this."

Harry had. He'd wished for someone like Sirius every day for years. Even before he had known his parents hadn't died in a car crash.

He tightened the hug.