Harry didn't manage to get to Draco's room that night. Everyone else had come traipsing up to bed as soon as Snape had left, and Mrs Weasley had ushered him back into his and Ron's room when she caught him trying to sneak over the landing to see Draco. He might have been cleverer about it in other circumstances, but he was still reeling from his conversation with Snape. Any thoughts he might have had about trying again were knocked clean out of his head when Mrs Weasley pressed her palm to his cheek and said, "Get some sleep Harry dear, I'll see you in the morning," and it was only then that he realised how exhausted he was. No, Draco would have to wait for tomorrow.
It wasn't until lunch time the next day, that he and Draco actually got to speak again, though not with any privacy. They'd spent the whole morning in the drawing room exterminating doxies, and Mrs Weasley had disappeared downstairs to fetch them all sandwiches for lunch. Harry and Draco were slumped on the floor, side by side, watching the twins fill their pockets with dead doxies and their eggs. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny meanwhile, had gathered around the window to peer down at whoever had just rang the doorbell, and set Mrs Black's portrait screaming again.
Harry turned to say something to Draco, but upon seeing the other's face, he couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped him - Draco looked terrible, possibly worse than when they'd emerged from the Chamber of Secrets together. His face was flushed and patchy, sweat and doxycide mingling together and smeared all over his forehead and reaching into the roots of his hair, so that the front of his fringe was slicked back with a disgusting grey-black paste. The nasty look Draco shot in his direction, told him that he knew exactly what Harry was laughing about.
"Like you look any better," he snapped, "the black just shows up really well in my hair,"
Harry swiped his hand across his forehead and, unsurprisingly, his palm came away smeared in the same sick grey black concoction, "Might need to borrow some of that shampoo you kept telling me about,"
"Not bloody likely," Draco grumbled. Harry only smiled tiredly at him. They slouched further against the wall, the Black family tapestry above them. ('What's Dung doing with all those cauldrons? If he think's mum is going to let him keep them here, he's in for a shock,' said Ron from over by the window, and Ginny hummed in agreement.) "I'm impressed with the impervious charm on that though," he nodded at the bandages around Harry's neck, "Still bone dry and completely white. What did Snape have to say about it - your neck?"
Harry knew immediately that he couldn't tell Draco the truth. Not now, in front of an audience, and potentially not even in the future, except for perhaps when they were at the point of no return. He could imagine it now: Draco would insist that they found a way to destroy the bit of Voldemort's soul inside of Harry in a way that avoided the killing curse, and he certainly wouldn't accept that Harry already knew there was no other way. That Harry had specialised in Horcruxes at the Department of Mysteries, specifically because he had wanted to find another way they could have removed Voldemort's soul from his own. That he had only given up after over five years of dead ends and forgone conclusions. That they didn't have another five years to waste. That they were doing this to save the people they loved, not to save Harry.
And he was one hundred percent prepared to die to destroy Voldemort - he had been the first time, and he was this time as well. But part of him knew that Draco would not be as willing to make that sacrifice. It wasn't particular about the depth of his and Draco's friendship; they'd been forced into physical and emotional proximity by circumstance only, and without that fateful Monday morning, he expected they would have continued as friendly acquaintances who had a passing interest in the others life. No, it was something more than that. Harry was Draco's only remaining connection to the life they'd had torn from them, and vice versa. Harry wouldn't want to lose that either.
"He thinks the exposure to the dementors made it worse," he said, trying to keep his answer satisfying but also vague - he moved on quickly, "How's the emancipation going by the way?"
Draco let out a sigh, tugging the fabric he'd been using as a makeshift mask from around his neck, and tossing it away from himself, "It's going, I guess. Father tried to contest it though, that was a surprise,"
"How come?"
"Why did he contest it, or why was it a surprise?"
"Both,"
"He probably contested it because Mother told him to, or the Dark Lord maybe. It was a surprise, because the usual approach from pureblood families is to rush to disown the child first, before they can emancipate themselves - less embarrassing for the family that way," Draco worked his gloves off next, touching his hair gingerly, "Anyway, it's too late. Paperwork has been signed and I'm officially, and legally, an adult in the eyes of anyone who matters. Except for the use of magic," he clarified, "trace still won't break until I turn seventeen,"
Harry flicked his eyes about to make sure the others weren't paying attention to them, "How's the banking side of things panning out?" he asked, his true question obvious.
Draco's smile was shrewd, "Another thing my parents contested, not that it matters - the goblins don't care. Still, probably going to be Christmas before they give me the vault's key," Draco warned.
They were interrupted by the sound of Mrs Weasley's voice, as she suddenly began shouting furiously at someone.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT MUNDUNGAS! WE ARE NOT HARBOURING YOUR STOLEN GOODS!" Fred dropped the last doxy he'd been trying to fit into his pocket, and pulled the drawing room door open just a little so they could hear better, "AS IF WE DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TO BE GOING ON WITH!"
"I love it when she shouts at someone else," George said with a pleased sigh, stepping away from the bucket of doxies and sliding to the floor next to Draco, "Should have invested in a hairnet for you, I think," Draco slapped the twins hand away when he went to touch his hair, "You'll start looking more like a Black than a Malfoy, if you keep this up,"
"I already am half a Black," Draco reminded him, pointing up at the tapestry above them where Draco's name still sat - Harry had presumed, incorrectly it appeared, that the tapestry would somehow automatically know that Draco had been disowned. But no, it appeared Sirius's mother had been manually blasting off names all along.
"I can't believe Mundungus is trying to hide stolen cauldrons here," Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief and joining them on the ground, Ron and Ginny following, "It's just so totally irresponsible! Imagine if the Order got found out because of that!"
"Dung is a member of the Order, Harry," Ron explained, and Harry realised that he hadn't actually met the other man yet this time, as he hadn't been there for dinner the previous evening, "He's into all kinds of illegal things - smuggling mostly I think. Mum can't stand him,"
"Dad's not a fan either," Fred added, stood by the door and holding it open so that Mrs Weasley's shrill screams could wash over them all, "Thinks he's a necessary evil though - knows all sorts of things about the criminal underworld the rest of us don't - oh!" Fred jumped when the door in his hand was pushed open further, and a small shrivelled up house-elf shuffled his way into the room, babbling to himself lowly - Harry had wondered when he would see Kreacher.
"Stupid blood-traitors, traipsing all over the mistress's finest rugs, oh what would she say if she could see the house now," Kreacher muttered to himself, not acknowledging that anyone else was in the room, "They should get out, they shouldn't be here - stupid mudbloods and werewolves, and now thieves and criminals - oh the shame, the shame! She would turn if her grave, if mistress could see Kreacher now,"
"Hello Kreacher," said Draco, and Harry looked at him curiously.
Kreacher froze, before turning slowly on the spot, and reacting in a way Harry had not expected, "Oh, Master Draco, Kreacher did not see you sitting there," Kreacher advanced on them, ringing his hands together as if he couldn't wait to put them to whatever task Draco asked of him; on Harry's other side, Ron rolled his eyes, "Is the young master needing anything of Kreacher? Anything at all - Kreacher lives to serve the young master," he crooned, practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect.
"Has anyone introduced you to Harry, Kreacher?" Kreacher's eyes were suddenly fixed on Harry, flicking all about him as if he wasn't sure where to look first, "He's the friend I told you would be joining us in the house, remember?"
Kreacher's eyes widened, "Oh, oh yes," he gasped, nearly jumping up and down, "Kreacher remembers his name, yes - hello Master Harry, Master Draco is telling Kreacher all about you, it is Kreacher's honour to serve you whilst you stay in the most noble house of Black. Even if it is full of blood traitors and scum and criminals," this last part was said under the house-elf's breath but was still perfectly audible to everyone in the room.
"Remember Kreacher," Draco reprimanded lightly, "They are guests here too - you will be polite to them please,"
Kreacher nodded demurely, "Of course, young Master - Kreacher can iron his hands as punishment if young Master commands it?" the house-elf sounded positively rabid with excitement at the prospect, and Hermione recoiled in horror. She opened her mouth, no doubt to shout down the suggestion, but she needn't have.
"No Kreacher, that won't be necessary," Draco assured him, but it didn't look like Kreacher was happy to hear that, "I'll let you know if we need anything, but for now just carry on with your regular duties," Draco rammed his elbow into George's side with a particular viciousness when he failed to smother a sarcastic laugh. Kreacher however, had eyes only for Draco, and he nodded and immediately began backing away to the drawing room door, nearly backing into Sirius's legs.
Up until that point, Harry had been full of bewildered amusement, watching how Kreacher clearly doted on Draco. Seeing Sirius though, his stomach dropped - Sirius had been avoiding him all morning, he was sure. He wasn't there at breakfast, he hadn't come down when Mrs Weasley had called up the stairs for him, and he hadn't come to the dressing room at all to help them with the doxies. If anything, Harry felt even more conflicted about his godfather, torn between making the most of the time they had together (he resisted touching his neck), and continuing to be disappointed with him.
"What are you doing up here, Kreacher?" Sirius barked, peering down at the house-elf, a sack of something lumpy and bloody held down by his side. Kreacher, Draco, Hermione, and Harry, all scowled at his tone.
"Nothing master, nothing," Kreacher crooned, "blood-traitor criminal scum - broke his poor mother's heart - goes to Azkaban and comes back here trying to tell Kreacher what to do," Kreacher growled under his breath, circling Sirius like a snake waiting to strike, as he continued to leave the room, compelled by the order from Draco.
"My mother didn't have a heart," Sirius snapped, slamming the door in Kreacher's face.
"You know," Draco started conversationally, "if you were a little bit nicer to him, he'd probably be a bit nicer to you, too,"
"Draco's right," Hermione said reproachfully, "He never calls me a mudblood to my face, anymore,"
"No, just when he's talking about you and thinks you can't hear him," Sirius reminded her, slinging his lumpy sack onto the writing desk, and the boggart inside shook and trembled in protest.
"What's in that?" Ron said, disgusted, but still sitting up straighter to peer at the top of the writing desk.
"Rats for Buckbeak," Harry's eyebrows flashed in surprise - he'd forgotten all about Buckbeak, "I was about to go and feed him, when I noticed that evil thing skulking about,"
"Sirius! You should be kinder to him! He's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's saying," Hermione reprimanded him. Sirius hesitated in replying, distracted by the sound of shoes on the landing.
Mrs Weasley pushed the door open with her foot and appeared laden with trays of sandwiches, "Here we are everybody - oh, Sirius, where have you been?" she placed the sandwiches down, and though her question was asked politely, Harry could hear the reproachful under current.
Sirius's mumbled answer was drowned out by the sound of the others all clambering to their feet so they could grab something to eat. Draco paused to offer him a hand up. He ignored the feeling of Sirius's gaze on the back of his neck for as long as he possibly could, only wandering over to where Sirius was stood under the Black family tapestry when an annoyed Draco shoved him in his direction.
"Ah Harry," Sirius said, apparently having only just noticed his godson's approach, but Harry had been an Auror for a long time and he knew when someone was watching him, "How did you find your first night in my illustrious ancestral home?"
"Fine I guess," Harry said with a shrug, standing and looking at the tapestry as well - much like the portrait of Mrs Black, the tapestry had only been taken down by removing the entire wall.
"I presume Malfoy showed you our little family tree," Sirius stabbed at a blast mark on the wall with his finger, "This is where I was before mother dearest blasted me off," his finger moved across to a blank section under another blast mark, "and this is where Tonks would have been if my mother hadn't blasted off her mother, and this," his finger moved to Draco's spot, the only one that wasn't blackened and charred, "is cousin Draco," Sirius paused to briefly glance over his shoulder to where the others were chatting over their sandwiches, "How did you two end up friends anyway? I thought you hated him - neither Ron or Hermione have any idea either," he chuckled, "Ginny has a theory, but I think she's standing by it mostly to get money out of Fred and George,"
Harry didn't bother asking about Ginny's theory; he was confident it was some kind of 'star-crossed lovers' scenario; he shrugged, "We found common ground I guess - took a little while for him to come around," a none answer, he knew, but he was hoping people would stop asking eventually, especially as they got to know Draco and realised how annoyingly likeable he was.
Sirius didn't seem satisfied, but prodded no further, slipping his hands into his pockets, "Never thought I'd be back here," he said quietly, eyes darting around the room in despair, "been nearly two decades... But," he clapped his hands together, "Needs must I suppose," he offered Harry a tight smile, "It won't be forever,"
Harry considered Sirius for a moment, and knew instantly what side of the fence he had come down on in regards to his godfather. It was likely one or both of them would be dead by the end of the year, and he didn't know if he could face that year if he spent it at complete odds with him.
"Do you think you'll be re-tried once Voldemort is out in the open again?"
"Hopefully, Harry," Sirius's smile became fixed, as if he couldn't quite imagine a reality where that was true, "If that were to happen then, ah, maybe you could come and live with me instead? Not here," he added quickly, "Sweet Merlin, not here, no, somewhere else,"
"Yeah, that would be nice," Harry agreed faintly. It would be nice - he'd take an immature Sirius over the Dursley's any day, and he didn't technically need parenting anyway, even if he wouldn't mind a bit of it. And at least he knew Sirius loved him. They lapsed into a comfortable silence.
"I uh, that is to say, I ah, I wanted to apologise," Sirius said finally, hands twisting uncomfortably in front of him, "You were right last night - only one of us is a teenager, and it isn't me. I think being in this place has gotten to me a bit, but I shouldn't be taking that out on you. I'm sorry," Harry nodded, averting his eyes from Sirius to stare at the tapestry, but he wasn't really looking, "Now go and get yourself some more sandwiches - and bring me one," Sirius turned him bodily and gently pushed him towards the food that remained.
Perhaps he should have embraced his orphan status - it was undoubtedly convenient for their current predicament. And he was under no illusion that he wouldn't clash with Sirius again before the end, whatever that end might be. Twelve years of Azkaban could not be erased in one summer holiday. But he couldn't help but feel warm inside at the imagined future, however unlikely, where they lived together as a family.
After dinner that evening, Harry was reclined back in his chair, his hands resting on his now bulging stomach, when Draco suddenly stretched in his seat, "Think I'm gonna' turn in early - all those doxies have really taken it out of me," his yawn was just on the edge of exaggerated, and it was only that detail that pulled Harry out of his food coma, and had him looking at Draco more closely - he jolted when he understood the pointed look in the others eye.
"Oh yeah, uh, I'm quite tired too," he didn't bother with the song and dance of stretching and groaning like Draco, settling for a small fake, suppressed yawn, "I think I'll go to bed too," next to him, Ron glanced down at his second portion of desert, "Don't worry Ron," Harry said, guessing the other was debating whether or not he should come to bed too, and abandon his food, "I'm sure I'll sleep through you coming up," Ron looked satisfied with that, shovelling another spoonful in his mouth as Harry pushed his chair back, and stood up, "Night everyone!"
Even though they definitely weren't being followed, and weren't even actually doing anything wrong, Harry couldn't help but look over his shoulder as Draco admitted them both to his bedroom. He was unsurprised to find that, while Draco's room was essentially exactly the same as his and Ron's, with an enormous wardrobe and two double beds, it was significantly tidier. In fact, the only evidence that Draco slept in there at all was his trunk on the bed furthest from the door, and the toiletries he had set out on the side table between the two beds.
"This is what I wanted to show you," Draco murmured, beckoning him over, opening his trunk and rummaging through it, lifting stacks of neatly folded clothing out, and setting them to one side, until Harry could see what he'd been trying to find: a pair of black socks that were rolled up into a tight ball, but that clearly also contained an additional item. Harry let out a surprised gasp when he saw what Draco had been hiding, "This is it right?" Draco said anxiously, holding the locket of Slytherin by its chain so that it twirled in the light, "I've never seen it before so I couldn't be totally certain,"
"Yeah, yeah that's it alright," Harry said in awe, taking it momentarily from Draco to inspect it - it was just as he remembered, "We should minimise touching it if we can," he handed it back to Draco so he could stuff it back in the sock and burry it in the bottom of his trunk, "They can start leaching off you - especially if you get attached to them,"
"Who's getting attached to a horcrux?" Draco said in disbelief, replacing the piles of clothes he had removed from his trunk.
"Ginny did - the diary. In second year she poured her heart and soul into it, and the fragment of Voldemort's soul inside of it possessed her and opened the Chamber of Secrets,"
"Well, that doesn't sound traumatising at all," Draco slammed the trunk lid shut, and they moved to sit cross legged opposite one another on Draco's bed.
"How did you find it? Did you just stumble across it cleaning or something?"
Draco shook his head no, looking smug, "Kreacher,"
"Kreacher?!"
"Yup! Met him my first day here, and he heard everyone calling me Malfoy, and he remembered somewhere in that addled brain of his, that a Black had married a Malfoy at some point. Once he figured out I was the Draco Malfoy on the tapestry, he was all over me, essentially decided he'd prefer I was his master, rather than Sirius - especially since I'm a lot fucking nicer to him," he added with a scowl, "No offence Harry, but I can't believe he's a grown man. It's like he got stuck on the day your mother and father died, and never moved on - and it's tragic, I get it, but he talks about you like you're his best friend rather than his ward," he threw his arms up in disbelief.
Harry only shrugged, "That's precisely what did happen - he went straight to Azkaban after that remember? He's basically still in his early twenties mentally, I guess. He said sorry for last night," Harry added, not quite defending Sirius, but also not quite prepared to sit and bemoan all his faults right at this moment.
"So he should have," Draco scoffed, "What a childish display - also if you could not pull an amazing guessing stunt like that again, I will be eternally grateful," Draco added reproachfully, "I doubt anyone figured anything out, because to be honest, you were making pretty reasonable assumptions, but when was the last time you heard a teenager, who wasn't Hermione Granger, discussing 'marginalised groups' - honestly!"
Harry winced, "Yeah, sorry - two decades of anger is my only excuse, and Sirius managing to be infuriatingly patronising at the worst possible time. Won't happen again," Draco harrumphed but seemed to accept it, "Anyway, we got distracted, how did you get Kreacher to get the locket for you?"
"With only a little difficulty - I had to listen closely to what he was muttering about every time I brought it up. Took about a week for me to piece together the story about Black's younger brother - it's a shame no one knows the truth you know, that he defied the Dark Lord in the end," Draco added thoughtfully, "Anyway, I digress. Once I'd convinced him that I was planning to finish what the younger Black had started, he was all over me like dragon pox, couldn't get it to me fast enough! Was he your house elf when you lived here?" He added curiously.
"He was, until he died - I contemplated chopping his head off and putting it on a plaque like he'd wanted, but Ginny knocked some sense into me with a very heavy cauldron," Draco laughed quietly, "I cremated him instead, apparently that was more acceptable to the sensibilities of our young children,"
Draco's smile turned sad, "I couldn't possibly think why that would be," he said lightly. They sat in a reflective silence, both thinking back to the ones they had loved and lost, "Are you okay, by the way? Being in this close proximity with Ginny all the time? I know you were getting divorced and all that, but I don't think I could spend this much time around the younger Astoria without being intensely sad all of the time," Draco confessed.
Harry shrugged, "Yes and no, but not for the same reasons as you I think - I don't know if you intend to befriend Astoria at some point or something, but I like knowing that Ginny will always be an important person in my life, though in a different way now, and I think that makes it hurt that little bit less."
Draco hummed contemplatively, "No, I think I'm going to keep my distance from this Astoria - I'm still in love with myAstoria, and I imagine some part of me always will be. It's like being a widower except no one knows what you've lost, isn't it?" he shook his head firmly, "No, I don't think I'll get to know her at all if I can help it,"
"I can understand that,"
"Why did you and Ginny get divorced?" Draco asked hesitantly, as if he'd been building up the question in his head for the entirety of the summer, "I don't quite believe you just weren't in love with her anymore,"
Harry swallowed: what had once been a distressing and tumultuous time in his life, seemed so far away and insignificant now. Or at least, it had until Draco had asked his question, and now Harry realised that he'd have to go through some of that all over again, except that this time nobody knew the thing he could barely say out loud - not for shame or embarrassment, but because it was something he had only recently realised was true about himself. He contemplated telling Draco now, but found he couldn't - not at that moment at least.
Instead, he smiled and shook his head, "You're right, that not all there was to it, but I don't think I'm ready to talk about it,"
Draco accepted his answer with a nod, and a small smile, "Okay, but you can tell me if you want to - we're in this together right? I can tell you my things, and you can tell me yours,"
They bid one another goodnight, and Harry snuck back over to his room well before Ron returned. He was still lying awake in bed when Ron stumbled in, tripping over a book at the end of the bed and swearing loudly in pain. Harry could only smile, maintaining his deception of being asleep.
The next week was possibly more chaotic than Harry remembered it being, with members of the Order bustling in and out at all hours of the day, sometimes staying for dinner, and sometimes lending a hand to help try and decontaminate the house. He finally met Mundungus for the 'first' time when he helped rescue Ron from the set of purple murderous robes that had taken a strong dislike to the second youngest Weasley. Remus seemed to be spending a lot more time around the house as well, making a point to see Harry almost every day, sometimes just helping him in whatever task he'd been assigned, but more often than not talking to him about all kinds of things, from books to his parent's time at school, to asking gentle probing questions about Harry's childhood. These conversations Harry had found the most difficult, and more often than not he'd mumble something that half answered the question, before moving on to another task that took him away from Remus.
Remus's increased presence had been especially welcome, when Draco managed to fall almost entirely through the trick step on the ground floor stairs (that Harry now realised must have only become the trick step when someone else had fallen through it like this).
"Don't worry Draco, I've got you," he'd said kindly, reaching over gingerly to try and pull Draco out from his position in the stairs, wedged nearly up to his armpits, "Harry, if you could stop laughing and help me, please," he'd added, sounding mildly disapproving.
"What's going on here?" Harry's uproarious laughter had had the effect of waking the portraits downstairs, and therefore gaining the attention of other members of the household; Sirius was peering up at them as he wrestled with the curtains around his mother's portrait, "You okay, Harry?" Harry couldn't speak through his laughter, clutching one arm around his middle and pointing at Draco in the stairs with the other, "Oh, I see," Sirius gave up on his mother's portrait, and joined them on the stairs, smiling down at a scowling Draco, "Alright there, little cousin?"
"Oh just fantastic thank you," Draco snapped, sounding slightly winded by the pressure of the surrounding staircase on his chest, "I'll be even better if you can get that idiot to shut up," it was with an effort that Draco inclined his head in Harry's direction, "And I'd be most grateful if you would help me out of the stairs!" Sirius chuckled, leaning down to grip firmly around Draco's upper arm, while Remus did the same with the other. Together, they heaved and managed to pull Draco up and out of the hole - he was too tall for them to lift him cleanly to his feet, so they had to be satisfied with pulling up out until he was sat on another step, while his feet dangled through the hole.
Harry was practically on the floor at this point, losing the ability to stand through his laughter, "Oh you should have seen his face," he was choking out, "It was like this," he managed to control his expression enough to imitate the look of sudden alarm that had crossed Draco's face just before he'd fallen through the stairs, "It was amazing!" he gasped, finally giving up and sitting down on the landing.
"Are you alright Draco?" Remus asked, ignoring Harry, and dusting splinters from Draco's back.
"Yes, thank you," Draco said with a scowl, clambering to his feet and giving the new hole in the stairs a wide berth - he pointed an accusatory finger at Harry, "The next time you fall through a massive hole, I'll be sure to just stand there and laugh rather than bothering to help!" if he'd thought that would make Harry stop laughing, he was wrong.
Snape had come back, as he said he would, to check on Harry's neck. Harry didn't know why, on reflection, but he'd assumed that the potions master would stop in for as short amount of time as possible, check Harry's neck, and then get the hell out of there. That wasn't what was happening, however. Instead, Snape was once again sat around the dinner table with them, his back so rigid it must have been painful, and a fork gripped tightly in his hand as he swirled spaghetti onto it. He and Sirius had managed to avoid coming to verbal blows, but Harry was sure it was only because they'd managed to seat themselves as far apart as possible, and any sparring would have to be shouted from one end of the table to the other, and more significantly, across Molly Weasley in the middle of the table. No, silence was best.
Strangely, it wasn't their tense silence that was distracting Harry from his dinner the most. No, that honour belonged to Fred, George, and, of all people, Draco, who were all huddled close together and muttering to one another under their breath, a piece of parchment hidden from the eyes of Mrs Weasley by Draco turning his whole back to her and tucking the parchment close to his body. Whatever they were saying was drowned out by the racket Bill, Ron, and Ginny were making as they hotly debated the most recent Quidditch tournament. Harry stirred his spaghetti absentmindedly, watching with interest when Draco suddenly snatched a quill out of Fred's hand and scribbled furiously on the parchment, before nudging it just a little closer to the twins and stabbing emphatically at whatever he had written. George caught him looking, and grinned and sent him a wink. No doubt this was joke shop related, but Harry was surprised Draco had been drawn into their venture.
"Potter," Harry jumped and nearly dropped his fork, not expecting Snape to address him.
"Uh, yes?"
"If we might retire to your room so I can assess your neck - I must leave shortly," he said curtly, eyeing Sirius with disdain even though the other hadn't done anything, and pushing himself to his feet. Harry scrambled to follow him, nearly flicking spaghetti all over the wall in his haste.
Sat opposite Snape once again on his bed, Harry avoided eye contact as much as possible - he didn't know why, but he just couldn't get the image of Snape sliding down a wall, blood oozing from the wounds inflicted by Nagini, out of his head. And he could feel that his occlumency shields weren't up to scratch today - a whole week of early mornings and late finishes and waging war with this stupid house were catching up to him. The bandages around his neck were removed with the flick of Snape's wand, and even before he had moved, Harry's hands were being slapped away before he could itch at the exposed skin.
"Don't," Snape said sharply, his eyes narrowed as he peered closely at Harry's skin, "Hmm, it is improved somewhat," another flick of his wand, and a mirror was in Snape's hand, and he positioned it so Harry could see his neck reflected back at him - while some of the redness had receded and the wound was closed again, Harry felt that 'somewhat' was generous in this instance, "We must repeat the process - possibly for the next several months," Snape looked as ill as Harry felt by the prospect, "I will redress it, and you must come and see me after your first day of class," he summoned the salve he had given Harry, and held it out to him, intention clear.
Harry slipped up just as Snape was nearly finished in his ministrations and was about to stand, meeting Snape's eyes for a split second, making the other man pause. He sat in silence for a moment, eyes practically pinning Harry in place, before he said something Harry had not been expecting.
"Are you having prophetic dreams or visions?" it was said simply, as if Snape were asking about the weather, or whether or not Harry had enjoyed his dinner.
"Uh, I hope not?"
Snape hummed, then stood, and left after saying nothing more, leaving a vaguely concerned and bewildered Harry in his wake.
Harry didn't bother going back down to dinner - he was mostly finished with his dinner anyway, and he was absolutely exhausted. An early night would do him good.
That night, Harry dreamed.
The door at the end of the corridor was both familiar and unfamiliar. Familiar, in that he knew its shape, knew its handle, knew what laid beyond it, and knew, should he try, he would be unable to open it. Unfamiliar though, in that it was if he was seeing it through glasses with the wrong prescription, in that the way the light bounced off its panels didn't feel quite right, and in that the corridor beyond it was a complete mystery to him. All of this paled however, in comparison to the almost overwhelming feeling of desire that unspooled in his belly at the sight of the door, and the thought of what lay beyond its threshold. If he could just reach his hand out and touch the handle - if he could just push it open and step forward, he would have it. Harry's fingers were just a hair's breadth from its mahogany panelling, all it would take was for him to lean just slightly forward onto his toes and he would feel the grain of the wood against his skin. He was so close, if he just -.
Wait. Hang on. No, this wasn't right. This wasn't right at all - he knew this door. He knew this corridor. This wasn't some big mystery, he knew precisely what lay beyond, and he knew precisely how to open it too. He had walked past it five days a week for years. Though… though he had only laid eyes on the contents of the Hall of Prophesy one time, when he was fifteen years old. Dread spiralled from his belly up to his throat, threatening to choke him with its intensity. Oh Merlin, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move. No, no this wasn't right! He had to -.
Harry jolted awake, panicked and disorientated, and he realised almost at once why he was struggling to breath - they must have left the bedroom door open, as at some point Crookshanks had decided to make his bed on Harry's face. Shoving the fat ginger cat off his head, he gasped for air, and then coughed and spluttered at the ginger fur that had worked its way into his mouth. He swung his legs around, so he was sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the fluff free with displeasure. Unsurprisingly, Ron slept and snored through Harry's ordeal. Finally able to breathe, Harry suddenly remembered what he had been dreaming about, and jumped to his feet. As if in sympathy, Harry's scar suddenly started to burn - something he hadn't realised was missing from his experience of this summer holiday until now. The wound at his neck also ached, but to nowhere near the degree as the lightning bolt on his forehead.
Fuck - he needed to speak to Draco. He tried his best to be stealthy in his haste to cross the room, but he still managed to stub his toe on the end of the bed, a sharp yelp of pain escaping him, and he also nearly kicked a disgruntled Crookshanks in the face. He needn't have worried - Ron slept on. While crossing the landing, Harry barely dared to draw breath. Though he didn't knock on Draco's door (as that would have defeated the point of being quiet), he did immediately start whispering the others name the second he was inside - he had a feeling Draco was the sort of person to curse first, ask questions later.
"Draco… Draco! Wake up," he felt around blindly for the light switch, be he needn't have bothered; the gas lamp next to his face suddenly spluttered into life, and though mostly blinded by the sudden light, he could still just about make out the tip of Draco's wand pointed in his direction, "For fucks sake Draco, it's me, lower your stupid wand," he hissed, advancing forwards and slapping the tip of Draco's wand out of his face.
"Harry?" Draco muttered, still clearly half asleep, "Wha'you doin'" he asked stupidly.
"Put your fucking wand down," Harry insisted again.
Draco finally allowed Harry to push his wand arm down, a huge yawn escaping him as he did so, "Wha's wrong?" he pushed himself up so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard, drawing his knees to his chest so that Harry had room to join him on the bed, and rubbing sleep out of his eyes, "Wha' time is it?"
"No idea," Harry said impatiently, starting to think maybe he needn't have been concerned about Draco cursing him - he'd be amazed if the other would have been able to put his own pants on in this state, "I had a dream,"
Draco squinted at him in disbelief, "That's not that unusual when you go to bed, Potter," in one smooth movement, Harry grabbed the pillow closest to hand, and hit the other over the head with it, "Hey! What was that for?!"
"For being a dick - obviously it's a significant dream or I wouldn't be harassing you in the middle of the night, now would I?"
Draco rolled his eyes and snatched the pillow out of Harry's hand to chuck it well out of Harry's reach, "Fine, what was so important about this dream?" He snarked quietly.
"It was the door to the Hall of Prophesies," Draco sat up straighter at this, "We've had so much going on, I completely forgot, but this year Voldemort is obsessed with the Hall of Prophesies and the Department of Mysteries. It's literally all he can think about. Last time I dreamt about it all the time - we're connected by the soul fragment in me - but I think this time my occlumency shields have been keeping them all out,"
"What prophesy is he after?" Draco asked warily.
"The one about me and him - he already knows most of it, except for the last line. Knew enough to find me, but not enough to know it might not have been a good idea,"
"So, what are we meant to do about it?" here, Harry hesitated: he didn't know, "Potter?"
"I uh, I don't really know - last time it was broken before he could hear it, when I broke into the Department of Mysteries at the end of fifth year. I mean, I don't even think the bit of the prophesy he's missing is that crucial. It's just that I have 'power he knows not'," Draco pulled a face, "Dumbledore seemed to think it was love," Harry could practically hear Draco roll his eyes the action was so exaggerated.
"Oh my Gods, that is such a Gryffindor thing to say," he said, sounding physically pained, "The power of love," he said mockingly, "that's great and all, but I'm not sure you can weaponise that,"
"It's literally what saved my life as a baby," Harry reminded him.
"Ah well, yes, I suppose you've got me there - let me rephrase, it's not something I think the Dark Lord can, in some way, replicate or destroy. What's he going to do? Wander around making all your friends hate you? Learn to love in the next twelve months? Stupid - no, I think we don't do anything. Let him carry on being obsessed with it - at least it'll keep him occupied,"
Harry nodded in agreement, but then something else occurred to him, "Last time," he said slowly, "around Christmas, he possessed his snake Nagini to enter the Department of Mysteries, and nearly killed Arthur Weasley - he only lived because I'd entered his mind while I slept. What's going to happen this time?" he said anxiously, twisting the sheets in his hands, "Nagini is dead! And my shields are stopping me from sharing his thoughts most of the time now!" he stopped fiddling with the duvet when Draco covered his hands with his own.
"Calm down," Draco said lowly, "Remember - it's like I said. The past is not the future anymore - we don't know what is and isn't going to happen, and that's okay. It's how we've lived every day of our lives, except for the last few months, after all," Harry nodded, trying to calm himself down, "and if Nagini is dead, then Mister Weasley can't be attacked by her, can he?" Harry nodded again, less shakily, "and even if she wasn't, any number of things could have happened that meant Mister Weasley wasn't anywhere near her this time round, right?" Again, a small nod, now calmer, "And I definitely think you should maintain your occlumency shields - no, don't look at me like that, I know that look on your face - you can't lower them just to spy on the Dark Lord. Imagine if he managed to spy back? How disastrous that would be?"
"Yeah, you're right," Harry admitted reluctantly, rubbing his still aching scar absentmindedly.
"Of course, I am," Draco said confidently, smothering a yawn in his hand and finally relaxing again in bed.
Harry watched his sleepy face for a moment, drawn to the way the low light reflected in his eyes, before something occurred to him.
"What were you and the twins talking about at dinner? With that parchment?"
Draco grinned, "Been helping them with the joke shop - mostly finances and such. The Malfoy estate is essentially one big business, so I know what I'm doing. Helped them a bit with some of their product design as well - trying to persuade them to go into developing products for other markets. It's been fun! Better than decontaminating this shithole anyway," he eyed the walls with distaste, and Harry felt immediately protective of the house.
"Hey! I'll have you know; this place was beautiful when I finished with it - got rid of the ghoul in the upstairs toilet and everything,"
Draco only smiled at him, and said:
"Are you feeling better now?"
Harry paused, then nodded, and then slumped back on Draco's bed, all his nervous energy leaving him all at once.
"Yeah, much," he scowled though, when a toe under the covers began poking him determinedly.
"Great, now if you would kindly fuck off back to your own room, so I can go back to sleep, that would be perfect," he did as he was asked, but not before grabbing another pillow and hitting Draco over the head with it, "Do you mind!"
Harry didn't hide his grin as he left.
Harry was currently in the process of losing spectacularly at a game of wizards chess to Remus; they had commandeered the end of the kitchen table, and had Ginny, and an increasingly disgusted Draco as their audience. While Ginny was shouting out the odd piece of helpful advice, Draco was using his time to decry Harry's chess skills.
"No Harry, if you move your queen there, you're opening up your king to his knight - try moving your queen side castle instead," said Ginny.
"There's no point Weaslette," Draco said, voice full of disdain, "I'm don't think even Apollo Mortimer himself could teach Potter how to play wizards chess,"
"If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all," Harry shot back with a scowl, "And who the hell is Apollo Mortimer?"
"A famous wizards chess grandmaster," Remus answered, voice full of amusement, "And Ginny is right, you should move your queen side castle,"
"Surely you would have been better off playing something else Potter - exploding snap perhaps," it was with a disdainful look in Draco's direction, that Harry moved his queen side castle as Ginny had advised, "Lupin is four moves from check by the way," he added innocently, "you might as well give up,"
Harry rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to the chess board, but not before catching the amused up-tick of Draco's lips, as his mask of disdain finally cracked to show the true good humour below.
"Hogwarts letters!" Mrs Weasley interrupted, entering the kitchen with the aforementioned documents held aloft above her head, "I thought they would never come! I'll head to Diagon Alley later today to collect all your books - yours too Draco dear," she left as quickly as she had come in, off to deliver the letters of her children and Hermione who were currently on the floors above. Harry smiled to himself at the surprised but pleased look on Draco's face - it was becoming increasingly clear that Molly Weasley had decided she needed another adoptive son.
Not particularly interested in the contents of his letter, Harry barely skimmed it, pausing only to re-read 'Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard'; so Umbridge was going to be at Hogwarts. He wondered if Draco had noticed the same and was turning to ask him when he noticed the badge Draco was fiddling with as he read his own letter - oh, he'd forgotten Draco had been a Prefect.
"Is that a Prefect badge?" Ginny asked, leaning in closer and peering over Draco's shoulder. Draco hummed the affirmative and offered it to her to take.
"Congratulations, Draco," Remus said politely, and Harry didn't miss the way his eyes flicked curiously at Harry's own letter, searching for Harry's non-existent badge.
"Have you been made a Prefect too, Harry?" Ginny had handed Draco's badge back, "How have they not made you a Prefect?!" she sounded positively scandalised, "Did it fall out on the way or something?"
"No - no Prefect badge. Are you really surprised? I create astronomical levels of trouble literally every single year! I bet you Ron and Hermione have got one though," as if on cue, the sound of Mrs Weasley's elated squealing could be heard faintly, "Ron's definitely got one," Harry said with a grin.
"By that logic they shouldn't have one either," Draco said mildly, folding his letter back up and setting it to one side, "Since you seem to drag them along for all of it,"
"Yeah, but Harry is definitely the instigator," Ginny reminded him, "Ron wouldn't get up to nearly as much chaos on his own,"
"And Granger wouldn't get up to any!" Draco said confidently, only to look up in disbelief at the sceptical sound Harry made, "What's that supposed to mean? Little goody two shoes - you're trying to tell me you weren't the corruptor of Hermione Granger?"
Harry bit his lips to hold back a grin, but couldn't stop himself, "I'll tell you later - but some of the most genius ways we've broken the school rules have all been instigated or facilitated by Hermione,"
"Are we still playing?" Remus asked mildly, and Harry dutifully turned his attention back to the game, only to be distracted by Mrs Weasley rushing back into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed and a pleased smile on her face.
"Oh, it's so wonderful! Did you hear? Ron and Hermione have been made Prefects! That's just the pick me up I needed. I was thinking of having a little party this evening instead of just dinner, what do you think? Something to celebrate - Mad-Eye, Tonks and Kingsley are already coming for dinner so there will be a small crowd of us,"
"Malfoy got made a Prefect as well mum," Ginny picked up his badge to wave it demonstratively.
"Oh, Draco that's amazing! Congratulations!! Even more of a reason for a party! We'll have to make a banner, and I'll get something very special for dessert - are balloons perhaps too much? Yes perhaps, don't want them bursting and setting off the portraits, that'll surely dampen the mood," all of this was said while Mrs Weasley made her way out of the kitchen, until she was still speaking, but no one could hear what was being said.
The four of them sat quietly together for a moment, eyes on the door she had left through, before Remus finally said:
"…The game?" and Harry sighed and tipped his own king over.
"A wise decision," Draco said sagely.
'Congratulations Ron, Hermione, and Draco - New Prefects'.
Harry was sat peering up at the banner, his arms crossed over his chest, and a butterbeer untouched in front of him. The room around him was full of conversation to the point that Harry could barely hear himself think. Draco was in deep discussion with the twins again, this time joined by Mundungus, no doubt selling the twins something illegal. Hermione and Ginny were with Tonks, giggling happily as the Auror changed her appearance on demand for them. Kingsley and Arthur had their heads together, debating something passionately but quietly. And Remus was listening with a patient expression to whatever had Moody's eye swinging round and round relentlessly, occasionally giving his own opinion.
Today was the last night before going back to Hogwarts, and Harry didn't know how to feel. The only word he could find was 'conflicted'.
Harry jumped when Sirius suddenly collapsed into the chair next to him, "Alright," he greeted gruffly, slurping on a glass of butterbeer.
"Alright," Harry greeted in return, eyeing the bags under his godfathers eyes, "You okay?" he asked cautiously.
Sirius sighed, "Yeah, I'm okay," his smile was forced, "You? You excited to be going back?" His cheer was obviously fake, and his smile was beginning to become more of a grimace than anything.
"Not sure," Harry answered, shrugging, "Not gonna' be the same, is it. Half the school thinks I'm a lying crazy person - not sure I'm ready to face that,"
Sirius's smile became more genuine, and he knocked his shoulder into Harry's, "Don't listen to them Harry - those people are going to end up proven wrong one way or the other," he leant forward to pick up Harry's butterbeer and pushed it into Harry's hand, "Have a drink, try to stop worrying about something you can't control - we're meant to be celebrating!" He inclined his head at the banner, "Remus was a Prefect back in our day - not a chance anyone was pinning that badge on me,"
"I think they were hoping I might curb the behaviour of my best friends," interjected Remus, him and Alastor both now listening to them, "I failed quite spectacularly on that front though I'm afraid,"
"In your defence Moony, it's been twenty years and I still haven't improved," Sirius and Remus shared a warm grin.
"This is true,"
"Oh, Alastor!" Molly had joined the conversation, "We've been meaning to ask you for ages - there's a writing desk in the corner of the drawing room that we're pretty sure has a bogart hiding inside it. Would you be a dear and check for me?"
"Course Molly," Moody leant his head back and peered up at the ceiling, "Desk in the corner, you say? … Ah, yes, I've got it - that's a boggart alright," he refocused on Mrs Weasley, "Want me to go and sort it out for you?"
"Oh no, no, I'll go and sort it out myself just before bed,"
With a jolt, Harry remembered the consequences of that choice, the dead bodies of himself and the Weasley's on the drawing room floor and a crying Mrs Weasley huddled in the corner. No, he couldn't let that happen again. He reached for a solution frantically.
"Ughh, Moony," he stuttered out, "Didn't you say boggarts were best tackled in pairs? So they get confused or something?"
"Indeed, well remembered, Harry," Remus smiled at him, and then Molly, "Harry's quite right Molly - let me help you. Shall we do it now? Get it out of the way?" Harry practically deflated with relief when Mrs Weasley agreed, and they disappeared out of the kitchen.
"Gonna' miss having you around," Sirius admitted quietly beside him, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders and tugging him into his side for a tight hug, "Wish you didn't have to go back,"
"It's where I belong," Harry reminded him, voice just as low, "You'll write to me?"
Sirius nodded vigorously, "As often as you like," he promised, pressing their foreheads together briefly, and suddenly Harry felt like he was seeing the godfather Sirius had the potential to be, "You'll be begging me to stop writing, before you come back for Christmas," Sirius vowed through a grin, "You will be coming back for Christmas, won't you?" he added anxiously.
"Course - wouldn't miss it for the world," Harry's eye was abruptly drawn to Draco, who had thrown his hands up in defeat at whatever he and the twins had been discussing with Mundungas, stalking off to grab himself another butterbeer, "Can Draco come as well? If he doesn't want to stay at the castle that is,"
Sirius hesitated for a moment, his gaze finding Draco from across the room and appearing to become stuck on him - whatever he was thinking was obscured by his blank expression, "Yeah, course he can," he said finally, face settling into a small smile, "Us pureblood rejects have got to stick together after all," he added.
"Sirius!" They both looked up at his name being called, and found Moody beckoning to him, fishing something out of his pocket, "Got something to show you - something you might find interesting," Sirius patted his shoulder before pulling himself to his feet and taking the seat that Remus had left behind.
Harry took the opportunity to join Draco, who had seated himself apart from the rest of the festivities, observing quietly. He looked up at Harry's arrival and used his foot to tug out a seat from under the table for Harry to take.
"You okay?" Draco asked lightly, his eyes flicking over to Sirius for a moment, "Not upset you, has he?" he murmured so that only Harry could hear.
"No, he's just a bit grouchy and melancholy cause' I'm going back to Hogwarts,"
Draco rolled his eyes, clearly having no patience for Sirius, "Honestly Harry, he should be hiding those feelings better," he said critically, "depending on a child for your emotional regulation is just unfair,"
"He's doing better - I think Remus spoke to him," he added.
"It's a shame Lupin's a werewolf. He'd have made a way better godfather," Draco grouched, "He's spent way more time with you this summer than Black, for one thing,"
"What's Remus being a werewolf go to do with it?" though he cared about the answer, Harry found himself side tracked by how disgruntled Draco was on his behalf. Perhaps he was imaging the sort of adoptive parental figure he'd have wanted for Scorpius, and was finding Sirius didn't live up to this vision.
"It's only in the last five years or so that werewolves have been allowed to be legal guardians," Draco said with a grimace, "Before then, their children would be taken away if they were a single parent, and settled with the closest willing relative,"
"That's awful!" he cried, outraged.
Draco only shrugged with a pinched expression, "Wizarding discrimination for you - it's no wonder so many joined up with the Dark Lord last time,"
"And the giants,"
"All those marginalised groups," Draco said with a teasing smile, knocking their knees together, "Are you looking forward to going back to Hogwarts?" Harry shook his head in the negative, "How come?"
"It wasn't a good year last time, can't see how things will have changed really," Draco hummed, "Being a kid sucks,"
"That it does Potter, that it does," Draco knocked their glasses together in a sad cheers, and they descended into a contemplative quiet, looking about the room and observing the goings on around them.
Mrs Weasley and Remus had come downstairs, and Molly was talking to Bill, twirling his hair around her wand, "Oh dear, but it would just look so much better shorter, I wish you would let me cut it,"
"I prefer it long, mum," Bill said, eternally patient with his mother.
"Oh I know, I know, but it really is getting long now. I do think it would look better shorter - don't you think so too Harry?"
Harry froze, his eyes suddenly fixed on Bill, on his bright blue eyes, his single earring, and his high ponytail, and he found himself fighting against a blush that he hoped couldn't be seen over the distance, "Uh, it looks good long,"
"See mum, Harry thinks it looks better long too,"
Harry pulled himself out of the conversation, briefly catching Draco's interested eye, before committing himself to staring silently out into the room.
"I'm probably gonna' head up to bed," Draco said, smothering a yawn in his hand, "You coming?"
They walked up the stairs quietly, skipping out the step Draco had fallen through, shoulders brushing when they turned on the first landing to head up the next flight of stairs. At the second landing they paused, just looking at one another for a moment. Harry was struck, not for the first time this summer, by the way the flames in the oil lamps reflected inside Draco's grey eyes, the light bouncing around in them and reflecting back at Harry.
"Goodnight, Harry," Draco said eventually - they'd only been stood in silence for a second or two, but it felt much longer to Harry.
"Goodnight, Draco," Harry watched the other disappear into his room, before he did the same.
Harry lay awake in bed for at least another hour, before he finally fell asleep.