kowaiyoukai

Title: Metanoia - Part 1: Reconciliation, part VII
Author:

kowaiyoukai
Rating: R
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warning(s): Slash, het, angst, language, convoluted plot, use of side characters who you may have forgotten, misuse of canon terms and items
Spoilers: SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, HBP
Word Count: 63,163 total; 9,619 for this part
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I'm making no money from this.
Beta Acknowledgment:

sizijee looked over a lot of this. Thanks! *gives Itachi*
Summary: Draco needs a safe place to stay. So does Harry.
A/N: This is the last section of the first part. I have absolutely no idea when the next part is coming. Just so you know. This is because I'm working on my graduate thesis and original novels. So, you know, fic gets pushed to the side. Sadly.

"Happy birthday, Harry!"

Harry turned around on the kitchen chair and saw Hermione and Ron standing in the doorway, grinning. He grinned back.

"Thanks," Harry said. He yawned and gestured to the eggs and bacon on the counter. "Want some breakfast? There's extra."

Ron shook his head. "Nope. We are going out."

"What?" Harry asked, stopping with a piece of bacon held half-way up to his mouth. "Out?"

Hermione nodded, grinning. "You're of age now, Harry. You can do spells outside of Hogwarts legally."

Harry blinked. The thought hadn't even occurred to him yet. It was what he had been waiting for, the opportunity to finally get out of Gimmauld Place. Supreme joy washed over him then, and he jumped up, almost knocking over his chair.

"I'll go get dressed!" he shouted, dashing for the door.

"Wear something nice," Hermione called out as he left. "We need to get your Apparition license from the Ministry."

Harry ran to the stairs and saw that Malfoy was already half-way down them. The blonde was yawning and covering his mouth with his left hand. His right hand was scratching the back of his neck in a movement that was so unexpected that Harry stopped to watch. Malfoy was wearing a pair of Harry's own pajamas like he usually did, although he wasn't sure if Malfoy had ever figured out who that pile of clothes had been from. It was amusing, though, to watch Malfoy walk around in Harry's own clothes.

It was getting easier and eaiser to be around Malfoy. Ever since they had started eating meals together, Harry realized that they were actually able to get along. Malfoy had been living there for almost a month already. At times his presence comforted Harry, made him realize that he wasn't alone in this huge house. At other times he was so annoying that Harry could hardly stand it. They still fought constantly and over the smallest, most insignificant things. But it didn't bother Harry as much as it had at first. By now he had realized that they were going to be fighting with each other for as long as they were in contact. It was inevitable. There were times, though, that they could hold a civil conversation, which was a goal that Harry never thought he would actually achieve.

"Potter," Malfoy said, blinking slowly. "What are you doing?"

Harry grinned. "I'm going out with Ron and Hermione."

Malfoy nodded and walked further down the steps, then stopped. "I thought you couldn't leave yet," he said.

"Today's July 31st," Harry said, still grinning. He opened his mouth to explain when Malfoy cut him off.

"Happy birthday," Malfoy said, stifling another yawn. "I didn't get you anything."

Harry laughed. "I didn't expect you to."

"Hm," Malfoy said. He got to the bottom of the stairs and peered at Harry. "You're bringing your wand with you, right?"

"Of course," Harry said. He swallowed. "Why? You worried about me?"

Malfoy snorted. "Not bloody likely. But the last thing I need is for you to turn up dead."

Harry felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach. "Why's that?"

"Who'll kill the Dark Lord if you're gone?" Malfoy asked, rolling his eyes. "We need you here, o wise and powerful savior."

Harry nodded, pushing aside the disappointment that came with the answer. It was stupid of him to expect anything else from Malfoy, anyway. "Right," he replied. "I've got to go get changed."

Malfoy moved aside, leaving plenty of room for Harry to pass through. "Is there breakfast?" he asked, throwing a hopeful glance in the direction of the kitchen.

"Yeah, there's some," Harry said. He walked up to his room without another word to Malfoy, feeling a lot less excited than he had when he had first left the kitchen.

It seemed like Malfoy didn't care much about him one way or another. Harry used to think that he could care less what Malfoy thought of him, but recently he had begun to think differently. In fact, he had started to really wonder whether or not they would ever be able to be friends.

Harry stopped moving and went back over his thought. He actually did want to be friends with Malfoy. The thought was bizarre. It was like the past six years didn't matter.

No, Harry decided immediately. It wasn't like they didn't matter. They did matter. They mattered a lot. It was just now that he was basically living with Malfoy, his perception of who Malfoy was had totally changed. He had known that Malfoy was grouchy and easily irritable in the mornings from their years sharing the Great Hall during breakfast, but he hadn't known it took Malfoy until almost noon to be completely awake. Once he was, though, Malfoy could stay up far past midnight doing work or whatever else needed to get done.

There were a lot of little things that Harry had only just started noticing about Malfoy. It was extremely easy to argue with him, but afterwards Malfoy could go back to working while Harry had to sit there and silently fume. It was like fighting was a game to him, and the winner was the one with the most witty comebacks and scathing remarks. Harry didn't understand why Malfoy acted the way did, but he was beginning to learn. It was important that he learned something about Malfoy that he didn't already know because every time he did he was pleasantly surprised at what he found out. Harry didn't want to think about why it was important, but he knew the answer right away.

It was because Malfoy had switched sides. Harry had believed Malfoy would be a Death Eater for such a long time that he had never really given much thought to any other options. If he had, he never would have guessed that Malfoy would be helping the Order. Of course, there was no way he could have guessed the events that had led up to his decision. If Malfoy's parents were still alive, there was no way Malfoy would be stuck in Grimmauld Place with him. If things had continued, Harry was sure Draco would have taken the Dark Mark and become a full-fledged Death Eater. It seemed as though the death of Malfoy's parents was a good thing.

Harry felt a guilty twinge for thinking such a thing even though he knew most of the wizarding world agreed with him. Lucius and Narcissa had been completely loyal to Voldemort, and Harry felt no pity or sadness at their deaths. Now that he was getting to know Malfoy in an odd, convoluted sort of way, Harry could see just how much his parents deaths had affected him. Harry had lost his parents too, but he had been so young that he really didn't have any concrete memories of them to hold onto. He could remember small things, bits and pieces of memories, but nothing major. He had no idea what it would feel like to live with his parents for years, to grow up with them and know them as people and not vague ideas, only to have them killed because of something he had failed to do.

The feeling of uneasiness and despair that Harry got made him sit down on his bed abruptly. Malfoy and him hadn't spoken about his parents. They hadn't talked about whether or not Malfoy still believed in the ideals Voldemort stood for. Malfoy still didn't know why they were researching, even though he complained about his lack of knowledge daily. It seemed like nothing had changed between them. They only talked to each other when they needed to, or sometimes when the silence grew too loud and there was nothing better to do anyway. They had never talked about anything important, not even when the Daily Prophet came by to deliver the news of yet another skirmish that neither of them had taken part in.

It was odd. Harry had always thought that he and Malfoy would be staring at the ends of each other's wands on a battlefield somewhere. Instead, they were sharing a library doing research for the same side. Harry's side. He had never thought that the battles would start without them, that they'd end up on the same side.

There were a lot of things he hadn't ever thought.

A knock on his door dragged him out of his thoughts. "Harry! What are you doing, mate? Move it!"

"Hang on, Ron," Harry called out. He set about getting changed and getting ready to leave with his friends. It was his birthday, and he would enjoy it, and everything else could wait until later.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The library was quiter than usual. Draco sat in his usual seat expecting at any moment to have to glare at Potter to be quiet. Of course, both Potter and Granger had left for the day. Draco wasn't sure when they would get back, but it was already getting late and he was getting hungry. He had debated long and hard with himself about attempting to cook something, and had decided against it in the hopes that Potter would be back and would be feeling generous enough to cook dinner.

He had gone through three books today, which was a record that he would shove in Granger's face the next time he saw her. Draco figured he had gotten through so much because there was no one here to distract him. He wondered if Potter and Granger would leave him alone more often. The thought inexplicably made him feel irritable, and he clenched his teeth together and stood up. Once he ate something he'd feel better, he was sure of it.

Draco walked to the kitchen, intent on getting something to eat. He opened a cabinet and took out a box of cereal, then went to another cabinet and took out a bowl. He poured cereal in the bowl and poured milk into it. Then he grabbed a spoon and sat down at the table, munching unhappily on his cereal. Each piece was a different letter of the alphabet, and Draco spent plenty of time spelling out things like 'draco,' 'malfoy,' 'slytherin,' and 'pureblood.' After that, he started in with words like 'git,' 'prat,' 'wanker,' and 'twat.' He went through most of his insults before the activity became boring. Then he sat there for a while, letting his mind drift and not thinking of anything at all.

A pop sounded and Potter appeared out of nowhere, landing right in the middle of the kitchen. Draco looked up, startled at the sound yet managing to keep holding onto his spoon. Potter was grinning wildly, hair sticking every which way and eyes lit up. He was holding a few bags that looked like they would topple over at any second. He dropped the bags on the ground and ran both hands through his hair, sighing contentedly.

Draco smirked and said, "Had a good time then?"

Draco saw Potter's head twist until their eyes met. "Malfoy. I didn't even notice you were there."

"Yes, well, I am sneaky and cunning, you know," Draco replied, shrugging. "If I hadn't said anything, you wouldn't have noticed at all."

"I'm sure," Potter said, still grinning. He looked down at Draco's bowl of cereal and raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

Draco smirked. "Cereal, Potter. Surely even you must know what cereal is."

Potter rolled his eyes. "I know what cereal is, you daft twit. I meant why are you eating it?"

"I happen to enjoy cereal at all times, day or night," Draco replied. He ate another spoonful and closed his eyes, slowly chewing and making a moan low in his throat. He took his time swallowing, licking his lips when he finally did so. "Mm, cereal," he said, letting his eyes flutter open.

Potter looked bemused. "Mm hm. I'll make some food as soon as I put this stuff away."

Draco gestured towards the cereal. "But my cereal!" he cried, looking at it mournfully. "What shall I do without you?"

Potter picked up his bags and left the room. Draco spent the next few minutes arranging the small cereal alphabet letters to say 'die potter die'. He thought it lended a nice, personal atmosphere to the room. When Potter got back, he grabbed Draco's cereal bowl and snorted at the message.

"Cute," Potter said, rolling his eyes and dumping it out.

"I know," Draco replied, leaning back and linking his hands behind his head. "Everyone tells me so."

Potter snorted and and began rummaging around in the kitchen. Draco watched him briefly before looking away, studying the wall instead. The silence was comnfortable. There was no need to fill it, so he didn't. Instead, he just listened to the quiet sound of Potter's breathing and the much louder ruckus of Potter cooking, of pots and pans and other things being thrown around in a way that would eventually get Draco something decent to eat.

"You know, you're quite a good cook," Draco said before he thought better of it. He grimaced at the compliment but stayed silent, wondering how Potter would take it.

Potter stilled for a moment then continued with his movements. "Thanks," he replied, and Draco could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

Draco didn't answer. Potter finished cooking soon after, and he set a plate down in front of Draco. Draco began eating, only slightly surprised when Potter took the seat across from him and began to eat as well.

"Didn't you go to dinner with Granger and Weasley?" Draco asked, eyeing him speculatively.

Potter shrugged. "I made it. I might as well eat it."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough." He was completely prepared to let silence take over as it normally did, but for some reason today he felt like talking. "So are you planning on going out a lot now?" Potter looked at him curiously. "Well, now that you're able to leave, I can't see why you'd want to stay here all the time anymore."

Potter nodded. "Yeah, I guess. I haven't really thought about it."

"You haven't?" Draco asked. "I've thought about leaving every day since I got here."

"Yeah, well, you didn't choose to come here," Potter said. "I'm not surprised you'd want to leave."

"It's not that I want to leave," Draco replied. "I've got nowhere else to go, after all. I'd just like to get out once in a while."

Potter looked thoughtful. "You don't want to leave?"

Draco shrugged. "Where would I go?"

"Well, if you had someplace to go, would you want to leave?" Potter asked, keeping his voice fairly monotone.

"It doesn't matter," Draco said, shrugging. "I can't leave. End of story."

"But if you could," Potter continued, "would you?"

"I don't know," Draco replied, a trifle testily. "I haven't really thought about it."

"You just said you thought about leaving every day," Potter pointed out.

"Shut up, Potter. I didn't mean it like I had planned it out, step by step, with color-coded charts and highlighted sections," Draco said, sneering. "I meant that I had thought about it as in, 'hm, I wonder what it would be like to leave today. Oh, well, more crappy books to go through.' That's what I meant."

"Oh," Potter replied, biting back a smile. "I get it now."

"Hallelujah," Draco said. "Now I'm trying to eat, if you don't mind."

"You're the one who started this conversation," Potter said, arching an eyebrow. "I'm not stopping you from eating, either."

"Shut up, Potter. I hate you," Draco said, scowling.

"Likewise, Malfoy," Potter stated, smiling a little in what had to be the most confusing combination of actions Draco had ever witnessed. "But to answer your question, yes, I'm probably going to be going out more now that I can defend myself, just in case something happens."

"Well, lucky you," Draco said. "Be sure to bring me back something expensive."

Potter chuckled. "Right," he said. He cleared his throat and looked at Draco. "Is there anything you need?" Potter asked. "Because I could get it for you, if you want. Seeing as how you can't leave and all."

Draco's eyebrows rose. "You do know I have no money, right?"

Potter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Malfoy. I know."

"So why would you get me anything, Potter?" Draco asked, staring at him blankly.

Potter fidgeted. "Because you need stuff of your own?"

"And what do you care about that?" Draco replied, sneering.

"Fine," Potter said, shrugging. He shoved a forkful of food in his mouth and chewed it, swallowing quickly. "You're right. I don't care. Whatever."

"You've never cared about me one way or the other, Potter," Draco said, going back to his plate. "I don't expect that to change just because I'm living here."

"You're wrong, Malfoy," Potter said, voice intense. "You have no idea what I think about you."

"Oh, really?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows and completely ignoring his food. He was slightly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking but he also would relish the opportunity to throw Potter's hypocrisy back in his face. "You think I'm a spoilt, manipulative brat who gets everything he wants without even having to ask for it. You think the only reason I'm good at Potions is because Professor Snape favors me and the other Slytherins. Oh, and you think that the only way I got onto the Quidditch team was by my father buying my way in with new broomsticks."

Potter glared at him and practically growled with displeasure. "No, Malfoy, you stupid snot, that's not what I think of you."

"Really?" Draco asked, disbelief evident in his voice. "You don't think the only reason I'm helping the Order now is because of my parents? That if I had the choice, I'd rather be working for the Dark Lord?"

Potter did growl this time. He slammed his hands down on the table and glared at Draco. "Would you just shut up and listen to me for a second?" Draco glared back at him. Potter scowled. "I know the only reason you're here right now is because of your parents, oaky? I know, and it's awful, and I'm sorry about it."

"Sorry?" Draco scoffed. "You're sorry my parents are dead? Please, Potter. You were probably first to start celebrating."

"I wasn't," Potter protested, shaking his head. "I know what it feels like to lose your parents to Voldemort, okay? And it sucks. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, not even on you." Potter breathed in deeply and then said in a quiet voice, "Especially not on you."

Draco laughed bitterly. "You think pity makes me feel better?"

"I don't pity you, Malfoy," Potter said, shaking his head. "I feel bad for what happened, but I don't pity you."

"You don't feel bad about it," Draco said, sneering. "You would have killed them yourself if you'd gotten the chance."

"Probably," Potter said, nodding. The admission made Draco silent, wondering at the sudden turn in Potter's behavior. "They were Death Eaters. But that doesn't mean I don't know that they were your parents, too."

"And that makes it all right for you, does it?" Draco asked, seething.

"No, it doesn't," Potter responded. "But you loved them, and I can understand that. So I'm sorry for your loss, Malfoy."

Draco's shoulders were shaking. "You... you can't just come out of the blue and say something like that to me. God!"

"And I don't think you bought your way onto the team," Potter continued. "I thought that when I was younger, but you were the only Seeker that gave me a challenge in school. You're a great flier when you're not focusing on beating me."

"You--" Draco said, but he was cut off by Potter.

"And I know you're good in Potions. Snape might have favored you, but he's a bastard and I could give a shit about him," Potter said, spitting out Snape's name like a curse. "You were top in our year for five years. Even if that was all a scam, you pulled good grades with Slughorn too."

"Potter, you--" Draco started, but Potter cut him off yet again.

"And you might have been a spoilt brat who got everything he wanted, but you aren't one anymore. The important thing is that you've grown out of it," Potter said, shrugging. "We all have things we have to grow out of."

"What the bloody hell is with you today?" Draco asked, mind reeling.

"I've been thinking a lot," Potter said, lips pressed together. "I went to talk to Dumbledore's portrait just after you got here, and he told me something I've been thinking about."

Draco waited for the revelation. It didn't come. "So what was it?" he asked, hoping to prod an answer from Potter.

"He told me I should step back and look at the situation from farther away, you know, take myself out of it," Potter said, gesturing as he spoke. "I didn't get what he meant at first because we were talkign about something else, but then I started thinking maybe he meant it for my whole life. And then I thought about you, and well..." Potter trailed off, letting his hands fall on the table. "I just thought you should know."

"Potter, I don't..." Draco trailed off, looking down at his plate. Potter was talking to him like he meant it, like he actually had thought all of this through. Draco didn't know what to make of it. He thought it could all be a trick, but they had been getting on fairly well recently. Anyway, it seemed sincere. Draco took a deep breath and looked up at Potter. "I don't know what to say."

Potter shrugged. "You don't have to say anything. Like I said, I just wanted you to know that I don't think of you like that anymore. It kind of pissed me off that you thought I did."

"You're acting like you want to be friends or something," Draco said, smirking.

"I guess I wouldn't mind it," Potter replied, taking another forkful and beginning to eat again.

"Wait, what?" Draco asked, mouth slightly open.

Potter finished chewing and swallowed, then took a drink. He cleared his throat and said, "I said I guess I wouldn't mind."

"Being friends?"

"Yes."

"With me?"

"Yes."

Draco blinked. He had no idea what to say to that, either. "But you hate me," Draco said, blinking.

"Eh," Potter said, shrugging. "Not really."

"We hate each other," Draco went on, shaking his head.

"Do you hate me?" Potter asked, seemingly curious as to the answer.

Draco opened his mouth to tell the stupid idiot that yes, he did hate him and could they move on to another conversation topic now please? But of course the fact that Draco had been willingly talking to Potter the past few weeks when he could have only ignored him or hexed and insulted him every time they passed by was proof in itself. Draco had expected to have a horrible time staying at Potter's house, but actually he was having a mediocre time which was far better than he had anticipated. Potter could almost one day potentially be enjoyable company, with careful instruction and a multitude of silencing spells at hand.

Potter grinned, obviously taking his silence as a 'no'. "Brilliant," he said, sticking out his hand. "I seem to recall an obnoxious eleven-year-old doing this a long time ago. I guess it's about time we shook hands, then."

Draco snorted and shook Potter's hand, a warm feeling spreading through him that informed him that he must be getting ill or delirious. "Better late than never, I suppose."

Potter nodded and went back to eating. Draco did the same, content to just let the silence go on. Potter, of course, thought differently.

"So, since we're friends and all now, there's something I should tell you," Potter said.

"Oh God," Draco said, choking on his food. He finsihed swallowing and hastily took a drink. "I knew it was all a ruse."

Potter took a deep breath and said, "I've been thinking about this a lot, and I really think you should know. You've been a huge help to Hermione and me over the past month, so I feel like you deserve an explanation."

"You're not dying, are you?" Draco asked, eyeing Potter warily.

"Er, no," Potter said, shaking his head. Draco had time to feel relieved and confused before Potter continued. "I wanted to tell you about the objects that we're researching."

Draco snapped to attention, looking slightly stunned but hopeful. "Yes?" he asked, goading Potter on.

Potter paused. "I'm doing this because I really believe that you want to kill Voldemort, and knowing this is vital to killing him. And I don't think you're a spy or anything like that, either."

Draco scowled. "Of course I'm not," he said. "He killed my parents. I want the bastard gone."

Potter nodded. "I know," he said. "But the Order might not see it the same way I do, so you have to promise to not talk to anyone other than Hermione and myself about this."

Draco waited a moment before answering. "You know I'm not going to say anything to the Order, Potter. But if they find out that I know, is it going to come back to haunt me later?"

"What do you mean?" Potter asked, tilting his head to one side.

"I mean that I don't want to have access to some type of information that's so important I could get thrown into Azkaban if things turn out badly," Draco said, shrugging. "Don't get me wrong, I'm dying to know, but I'm not the one who's going to kill the Dark Lord in the end, am I? As long as you know what you're doing, it's not neccessary for e to know." Draco paused, then continued, "Of course, I really do want to know, so if you're sure I won't get blamed for this later, talk all you want to. I'm listening."

Potter was silent for a while. Draco assumed he was thinking it over and let him sit unbothered while they both finished eating. Fianlly, Potter said, "I'm not sure if you'll get in trouble or not for knowing this. I hadn't thought of it like that."

Draco shrugged. "I figured you hadn't. After all, it doesn't matter if the great Harry Potter knows top secret information. But for Draco Malfoy to know it is a whole other matter entirely."

Potter frowned. "Don't call me that. I'm not all that great." Draco shrugged. "And anyway," Potter continued, "people who think you're on Voldemort's side just don't know what's going on. Or they're stupid."

"Or both," Draco said helpfully.

Potter grinned. "Or both," he repeated. "I'm going to tell you because I think you need to know. I was thinking about what you said when you were fighting with Hermione."

"Which time?" Draco asked, smirking.

"Shut up," Potter replied, rolling his eyes. "And I think that you're right, you do need to know all the facts. So I'll tell you what I can."

Draco nodded. "I'm listening."

He spent the next half an hour listening to Potter talk about the horcruxes, and the next hour after that discussing various aspects of the story that he was unclear about. Overall, Draco wasn't surprised that the Dark Lord would use such dark magic to make himself live forever. He was surprised that the Dark Lord had done such a shoddy job that Dumbledore had been able to find out about it. Once he knew, though, things started clicking into place rapidly. He had always wondered how the Dark Lord could come back to life after having the Killing Curse rebound on him. The idea that he would use six horcruxes, though, was so outrageous that Draco had goggled at Potter when he told him. After Potter was finished, Draco had leaned back and absorbed all of the information in.

"So, there's only four more horcruxes left," Draco said, repeating what Potter had just said.

Potter nodded. "Yeah. Four more."

An idea flicked into Draco's head, so suddenly that he thought he might lose it if he didn't act on it right away. "Do you still have the note?" he asked, standing up.

Potter stood up too. "Yeah, it's in my room. Why? Do you want to see it?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I'd like to see it. If that's okay," he added as an afterthought. He walked out the kitchen, following Potter who was already walking down the corridor.

"It's in here," Potter said once he got to his room. Draco followed him in and stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching as Potter pulled open a drawer and lifted a small piece of parchment out. Potter walked over and handed it to Draco. "Here," he said.

"Thanks," Draco said. He took the note and scanned it. It was exactly like Potter had said, which was both good and bad. It meant that he was telling the truth, but also that Draco would have to get started right away to make sure the horcrux didn't get any further than it already was. "Can I take this for a little while?"

Potter shrugged. "Sure, if you need it."

"Thanks," Draco said, grasping the note and heading out the door. "I'll see you later."

"Wait a minute, did you figure something out? What's going on?" Potter asked, following him into the corridor.

Draco shook his head. "I've got to think, Harry. Just leave me alone for right now, all right?" Potter had stopped walking behind him and Draco strode away quickly. "Thanks for dinner," he said over his shoulder.

He needed to get to the library as soon as possible. If he was right, they'd have this horcrux by the end of the week.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Immediately after opening the door to the library, Harry was assailed by the sounds of Hermione and Malfoy arguing. He walked towards them, concerned. They hadn't had a fight in a while, and the fact that they were fighting now made him very anxious to see what the cause of it was.

"Harry," Hermione said, exasperated. "Why did you tell him?"

Malfoy scowled at Hermione. "It's none of your business, actually, Granger. And if you'd just listen for five seconds, I could--"

"He wasn't supposed to know," Hermione said, walking towards Harry. "You <>know</> the Order wouldn't like it."

Harry shrugged. "Then I guess they don't have to know."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You can't be serious. We can't be selective about what we tell the Order and what we keep to ourselves."

"Hermione," Harry said, sighing. "I think telling Malfoy isn't really that big a deal. He's proven himself enough in the past month."

"That's not the point," Hermione said.

"We know he wants Voldemort dead just as much as we do," Harry said, continuing speaking over Hermione's protest. "Him knowing about the horcruxes can only help us get things done faster."

"This is a war, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head. "A war. You can't just tell anyone you like about anything you like with no regard for what might happen."

"You think I don't know that?" Harry asked, glaring. "I do. But if this ends up helping us kill Voldemort sooner, I 've got no regrets."

"But you don't know that's the way things will turn out," Hermione replied.

Malfoy cleared his throat and stepped forward. "While it's amusing to see you arguing, I actually do have something important to say."

Hermione gave him a scathing look. "We've already discussed this, Malfoy. It doesn't matter what sort of excuses you give, I still can't condone Harry telling you about this."

"You don' have to condone it," Harry said, scowling. "You don't even have to like it."

"I don't," Hermione said, wringing her hands together.

"Fine," Harry replied. "What am I supposed to do? Force you to agree with me?"

Hermione sighed. "I have to tell the Order, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "No, you can't. They won't understand."

"They have to know who knows about the horcruxes," Hermione said. "It's the only way to kill V-Voldemort. They have to know that Malfoy knows."

"You just let me know when you two are done," Malfoy said. Harry glanced over to find that he was sitting down in a chair, hands crossed and looking at them pointedly.

"They have to know, Harry. I'm sorry, but they have to." Hermione's voice sounded very final, as if there would be no changing her mind about this.

Harry shook his head. "If you do that, he won't be able to help us out anymore. We'll be stuck with just the two of us again."

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before," Hermione replied, frowning. "I'd rather have the extra help, but not if it means keeping information from the Order."

"I thought you'd be all right with this," Harry said. "I don't understand why you're not."

Hermione sighed. "How many problems have come from people hiding information from each other?" She looked at Harry and then down at the floor. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

Harry chewed on his lower lip and waited a moment before speaking. "I'm going to get hurt no matter what, Hermione."

"Harry--"

"No, listen to me," he said, cutting her off. "I'm going to be the one to kill Voldemort in the end, which means that I'm going to have to do a lot of fighting Death Eaters and destroying horcuxes before I can get there. I'm going to get hurt again, I know it. But telling the Order about Malfoy isn't going to protect me. All it's going to do is get Malfoy in trouble, and have me and you end up having to do even more work than we're doing now."

"But they should know, Harry," Hermione said, swallowing.

"I'm sure they'll find out eventually," Harry replied. "But that doesn't mean we have to tell them."

Hermione studied Harry for a minute and then sighed. "All right," she said. "I'll go along with it for now. But if I ever think they need to know..." Hermione trailed off, leaving the message clear.

"Okay," Harry replied. "I guess that's all right."

"Well, now that that's all cleared up," Malfoy said, speaking loudly and clearly. "Maybe the two of you would like to know the location of one of the horcruxes." Harry and Hermione both turned and stared at him. "You know, only if you're finished arguing. I can wait some more, if you'd like."

"You figured it out?" Harry asked, walking over to stand next to Malfoy. Malfoy smirked up at him. "You cheeky bastard, you should have said something!"

"I was trying to," Malfoy replied. "But you two wouldn't shut up long enough to listen."

Hermione walked over to stand next to Harry. "Where is it?" she asked, wringing her hands together.

Malfoy smirked. "You are never going to believe this."

"Malfoy, if you don't tell me right now, I'm going to hex that bloody smirk right off your face," Harry said, shifting about nervously.

"That's not very friendly, Potter," Malfoy responded, shaking his head.

"All right, fine, I'm sorry, tell me now," Harry said, bouncing up and down on his feet. "Please," he added as an afterthought.

Malfoy nodded. "Since you asked so nicely," he said, smirking. "You know Slytherin's locket? The one you thought was in the cave?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"You told him about that?" Hermione gasped.

"Remember the note?" Malfoy waited for Harry's nod, then continued, "I figured out who R.A.B. is."

"Who?" Harry and Hermione asked at the same time.

Malfoy paused, obviously savoring the moment. "Regulus Black."

Harry blinked. "Sirius' brother?"

Malfoy nodded. "Yes."

"But how do you know it's him? What's the A stand for?" Harry asked, shaking his head.

Malfoy sighed. "I don't know what the A stands for. Maybe Alphard, his uncle's name? And the note seems like the writer's trying to get back at the Dark Lord, like he's upset with him for something. Makes sense if what they say about Regulus is true."

"That he wanted out," Hermione said, nodding. "That does make a lot of sense."

"But he's dead," Harry said, shaking his head. "How does that help us?"

Malfoy looked at him like he was an idiot. "Well, Potter, if Black took the horcrux, where would he hide it that he knew the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to get at it?" Harry stared at him and blinked. "Here, you moron! He hid it here."

"You don't know that, Malfoy," Harry said. "He could have just as likely hidden it someplace else."

Malfoy shrugged. "How many Black family heirlooms are scattered around this place? No one would notice an extra one."

"That doesn't mean Voldemort couldn't get in here if he wanted to," Harry replied.

"But why attack the Black family home?" Malfoy asked. "It would be like the Dark Lord attacking the Manor. It makes no sense to go after someplace where people who are loyal to you live, and anyway it's a great hiding place. No one would think to look for it in Black's house if he took it. They'd all look for it in other places. Even if someone stumbled across it, they wouldn't give it a second thought seeing as how there's so many other antiques and whatnot lying about."

"But we would have come across it," Harry said, shaking his head. "Before fifth year, all we did was clean this place until it was livable. We would have seen it then, if it was here."

"Maybe you didn't recognize it," Malfoy said, shrugging. "You didn't even know about the horcruxes then, after all. Like I said, it would be easy to miss it if you weren't looking for it."

"Maybe we did find it," Hermione said, speaking slowly. "And we just ignored it."

"What?" Harry asked, turning to her. "What do you mean?"

"The locket, Harry"! Hermione exclaimed. "The one we couldn't open! Remember?" Hermione spun on her heel and walked out of the library.

Harry exchanged a look with Malfoy and they both got up and followed her, walking quickly.

"I can't believe you figured this out," Harry said, shaking his head. "And I've been living here all this time, too."

"Well, I am a genius," Malfoy replied, grinning.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure you are."

They followed Hermione as she darted through the house, finally stopping in front of one of the extra rooms that Harry never went into.

"It was in here," she said. She opened the door and walked in, heading straight for the desk on the other side of the room. Harry and Malfoy walked to stand next to her. Hermione reached out and clasped the handle of the drawer, but Harry put his hand on her arm.

"No," he said. "Let me do it. Just in case." Hermione frowned but nodded, and Harry pulled open the drawer resolutely. He peered inside it, expecting to see Slytherin's locket lying there.

The drawer was empty. Harry reached a hand in and felt all the way to the back just to make sure, but there was nothing inside.

After several moments, Malfoy asked, "Well?"

Harry sighed. "It's empty."

"What do you mean it's empty?" Malfoy asked, and he moved closer to the drawer to get a better look. Then he shrugged. "I guess someone could have taken it or moved it somewhere."

"No," Harry said suddenly. Both Malfoy and Hermione looked at him. "Mundungus Fletcher," he said, nodding. "He has it."

"Who?" Malfoy asked.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Hermione asked. "I wouldn't put it past him to take it, but how do you know?"

"I ran into him in Hogsmeade last year. He had a bag with a bunch of Black family heirlooms in it. I thought he was going to sell them," Harry said. "He ran off before I could do anything."

"I remember that," Hermione said, nodding. "But wasn't he thrown into Azkaban?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, just a few months ago, actually."

"Wait a minute," Malfoy said. "If I'm understanding you correctly, then the only way to can find out what happened is to go to Azkaban."

"Looks like it," Harry said, sighing. "I guess I'd better head over there, then."

"You've got to be crazy," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "There's absolutely no way you're going into Azkaban! The place is full of Death Eaters."

"At least the dementors are gone," Harry replied.

"So what? That makes it even worse! Now the only thing between visitors and being killed by psychotic prisoners is a few half-wit guards who barely get a galleon a week!" Draco shook his head, scowling. "There is absolutely no way that you are going in there."

Harry grinned. "Gee, Malfoy, anyone would think you were worried about me."

Malfoy blinked. "Of course I'm not," he replied, scowling. "I already told you. You need to stay alive until you kill the Dark Lord. Then you can go on all the crazy suicidal missions you want." Malfoy paused. "So you can't go to Azkaban, you twit."

Hermione looked back and forth between Harry and Malfoy and raised an eyebrow. She cleared her throat and said, "Well, there is another option, you know. We could ask someone from the Order to do it."

Malfoy stared at her incredulously. "And tell them what? That you just happened to think of this on your on after weeks of nothing?"

Hermioen shrugged. "Well, why not? They'd blieve me."

"Even if they did," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "That doesn't mean that I wouldn't be implicated."

"Listen to you," Harry said, shaking his head. "Implicated. You make it sound like you're going to Azkaban for something."

"None of us are going to Azkaban. Okay?" Malfoy said, twitching. "We are all not going to Azkaban. We'll have a big party about it. It'll be called the Not Going To Azkaban Party."

Harry snorted. "You're mad. And I'm going whether or not someone else comes with me."

"Potter..." Malfoy said, shaking his head "You can't go there. There's people there who want to kill you."

"I'll go by myself," Harry said. It was a fairly easy decision for him to make, after all. "The Order doesn't have to know. I'll go and talk to Dung, then I'll come back."

"You shouldn't go alone, Harry," Hermione said. "Ron and I will go with you."

Harry smiled at her. "Thanks, Hermione, but you don't have to do that."

"No one has to go," Malfoy said, scowling. "We can track the locket another way, I'm sure."

"And wait until there's even more time for it to get lost again?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "No, I'm going now."

Hermione nodded. "I'll go floo Ron. I'll be back in a minute." She turned around and walked out, leaving Harry there alone with Malfoy.

"You're a real idiot, you know," Malfoy said conversationally.

"Well I can't just let someone else go, Malfoy. I've got to do this myself," Harry replied, shrugging.

"Actually, you could let someone else do it," Malfoy replied. "You don't have to do everything yourself, you know."

Harry shrugged. "At least I know it's getting done, then."

"That's not the point, Harry! God, you can be such a stupid prat." Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "You just don't get it."

"That's the second time you've done that," Harry said, feeling a little short of breath.

"Done what?" Malfoy asked, scowling.

"Called me Harry."

Malfoy blinked. "I did not."

"You did."

"When?" Malfoy asked.

"Just now," Harry replied. "And last night."

Malfoy scowled. "Slip of the tongue, then. Won't happen again."

Harry frowned. "Actually, I wouldn't mind it if it did."

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond and shut it quickly. Then, he said, "What?"

"Well," Harry said, feeling his cheeks turning red. "You know. We are trying to be friends now, right?"

"Yeah," Malfoy said.

"And friends call each other by their given names, right?" Harry went on, nodding a little.

"Yeah," Malfoy said.

"So wouldn't it make sense for us to call each other by our given names, then?" Harry said, shrugging. "Since we're friends now and all."

Malfoy stared at Harry for so long that they both began to blush. Eventually, though, Malfoy said, "Since you're so keen on it, why not?"

Harry grinned and said, "All right. Draco."

Malfoy shook his head. "I cannot believe the depths I have sunk to."

Harry laughed, feeling much lighter than he had moments ago.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco was waiting patiently for Potter to get back from Azkaban. Well, patiently was probably not the right word. He was pacing in the corridor, walking back and forth in between the kitchen and the library. He knew that he should calm down and relax, but the very thought sent him pacing even faster. Why the bloody hell did Potter always have to be such a self-righteous prat all the time, anyway?

Not Potter anymore, Draco thought. It was Harry now. Even thinking the name was odd. Draco had called him Potter for so long that it seemed surreal to try to call him anything else. But he had asked, and for some reason Draco had agreed. Now he was having to put up with all sorts of mixed signals from his mind. It was extremely annoying, and waiting for Potter to get back wasn't making things any easier.

Draco heard three distant pops coming from the kitchen. He strode over, opening the door and peering inside. Potter, Granger, and Weasley stood there, talking quietly to each other.

Potter saw him first and smiled. "Draco, hi."

Weasley and Granger took the time to look like they had just seen Flitwick strip naked and pole dance in front of them.

Draco rolled his eyes and nodded at Potter. "Hi," he said. "You've been gone for a while."

Potter shrugged. "Yeah, well, things got kind of complicated."

After a pause, Draco asked, "How'd it go, then?" He resisted the urge to choke the life from Potter's scrawny body when he only shrugged again.

"Okay, I guess. Dung sold it to Aberforth Dumbledore," Potter replied.

"Dumbledore?" Draco asked.

Potter nodded. "He's Dumbledore's brother."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I figured that out."

Weasley scowled. "No one asked for your opinion, Malfoy."

"Ron, don't start," Granger said, sighing.

"Ron," Potter said. "He's been helping Hermione and me with the research, remember?"

Weasley shook his head. "Whatever. I'm not going to stand here and give information to the enemy." Weasley stormed out of the kitchen and called over his shoulder, "See you tomorrow, Harry."

Granger glanced at the door and then back at Potter. "Harry, I should go…"

Potter shrugged. "All right."

Granger said, "I'll meet up with you tomorrow, okay?" She ran out of the room, following the sound of Weasley's footsteps down the hall.

Potter looked at Draco and gave a half-hearted smile. "Sorry about that. He's just being careful."

"Yes," Draco drawled. "Because I'm such a threat."

"Some people think so," Potter said.

"But not you," Draco replied, searching Potter's eyes to find the truth.

"No," Potter replied, shaking his head a little. "Not me."

Draco nodded and smirked. "I see my charm has taken over the small amount of common sense you have."

Potter frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They're probably better off thinking I'm a threat," Draco replied.

"I don't think so," Potter replied immediately. He grinned. "I think you're just a nuisance."

Draco scowled. "Right back at you, Potter."

Potter walked forward and put his hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco stilled at the motion and stared at Potter, wondering what he could possibly be thinking.

"I trust you, Draco," Potter said. "I really do."

Draco felt heat rising to his face, and he struggled to keep it down. "Well, you shouldn't. It's not like I'm on your side."

Potter shrugged. "You're not on Voldemort's side either."

"So what? That makes me Switzerland?" Draco asked, smirking.

"No," Potter replied. "That makes you you." Potter squeezed Draco's shoulder and then let his hand drop. "Night, Draco."

Draco swallowed and felt a little relieved. "Goodnight." Potter looked at him with a small frown on his face until Draco rolled his eyes and said, "Harry." Draco watched as Potter nodded and left, marveling at the fact that it hadn't felt weird at all to call him Harry. It had felt… comfortable.

Draco shivered and he shook his head. It wouldn't do anyone any good for him to be losing his focus now. He had to concentrate on getting rid of the locket horcrux while it was still close enough for them to do something about it.

With that thought in mind, Draco headed to the library to do some more research. He had been tired before, but the talk with Potter had reenergized him. So he double and triple checked the information he already knew and tried cramming his head with as much as he possibly could.

The door creaked open, and Draco's head snapped up. Potter was walking in, closing the door quietly behind him. His back was to Draco, and Draco took a moment to look at him before speaking.

"So you didn't get enough of sneaking around at night in Hogwarts?"

Potter whirled around and looked at Draco with a guilty expression on his face. "Draco! What are you doing here?"

Draco's eyebrows rose. "Researching the horcrux information."

"Oh," Potter said. After a significant pause, he cleared his throat and added, "Right."

Draco smirked and book-marked his text. "What are you doing here? You're normally asleep by now."

Potter shrugged, the motion jerky and uneven. "Sometimes. I just… felt like coming here." Potter cleared his throat again and shuffled his feet. "You know… to research," he finished, and then looked down at the ground.

Draco blinked. "You are the worst liar I have ever met."

Potter looked up quickly and then back down again. "What?" he said. "No, I really needed to come here for something."

"What?" Draco asked.

Potter swallowed. "I guess it doesn't really matter. I can go without it. Night." Potter turned around to leave.

"Wait," Draco said. He got up and walked over to Potter, putting a hand on his arm and forcibly turning him around. "You can go without it? Where are you going?" Potter was silent and refused to look at him. The answer formed in Draco's mind quite clearly, and his grip on Potter's arm tightened. "You're going to destroy the horcrux."

"Draco," Potter said, biting his lower lip.

"Alone. In the middle of the night. You're going," Draco continued, shaking his head.

"It's not--" Harry protested, but Draco cut him off.

"It's not what, Harry? It's the stupidest bloody idea I've ever heard, that's what it is. What it's not is safe. Or smart." Draco scowled and pressed his fingers a little further into Potter's arm.

"I need to go," Potter said.

"You're going to get yourself killed at this rate!" Draco yelled, upset beyond all good reason. "You never even told me where it is, but since you're going through all this, it's got to be somewhere dangerous."

"Draco," Potter said. "It's not that bad."

"So where is it, then?" Draco asked, arching an eyebrow. Potter stayed quiet. "Ah, okay," Draco said, nodding. "Not that bad, then."

"You don't understand," Potter said. "I need to do this. I can't let anyone else get hurt because of me."

"That is so like you," Draco said, scowling. "Thinking that everything that happens in the war is your fault."

"No, I--"

"Well, guess what?" Draco said. "It's not."

"I need to go, Draco. I can't waste any more time here." Potter chewed on his lower lip and swallowed. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go."

"No," Draco said, clenching Potter's arm so tightly he thought for sure he'd leave a bruise. "No."

"What do you care, anyway?" Potter asked, staring at Draco. "It shouldn't matter to you. As long as I come back alive," Potter said, scowling. "Because I need to kill Voldemort for you."

Draco scowled as well. "You idiot," he hissed, almost spitting in Potter's face. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Potter asked, and his voice had gotten quiet but Draco didn't really notice.

"I… you… God, you're such an idiot," Draco said. He swallowed. "So no one knows you're going?"

"You do," Potter replied.

"But I don't know where you're going!" Draco exclaimed. "What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt? What the hell am I going to do then?"

Potter swallowed. "I don't… I don't know what you mean."

"No, of course you don't," Draco said. He grit his teeth together. "You know what? You want to go and get yourself killed, fine. Go." He dropped Potter's arm and clenched both of his hands into fists. "Go," he repeated.

Potter swallowed. "Draco, I… I'm going to be all right."

"Just go," Draco said, speaking quietly. "I can't listen to your stupidity anymore." Potter stood where he was, like he was unable to move. Draco frowned at him and turned around. His throat felt raw and tight, and his voice came out hoarse. "Go, already, Potter."

Silence hung in the library as Draco waited for some reaction from Potter. It was almost a minute before Potter responded to him.

"I told you to call me Harry." Potter's voice was flat, as if any emotion that had existed there had been carefully cut out of it.

Draco walked back over to his table and sat down, pulling the first book he saw towards him. He opened it to a random page and began to move his eyes over the words, concentrating on maintaining the motion rather than comprehending the meaning. Draco could tell that Potter was hesitating, but he wasn't going to say anything no matter how long the git waited there.

Eventually, Potter said, "I really have to go, Draco."

"So go," Draco replied, then grimaced and mentally cursed himself for replying. But afterward he heard footsteps withdrawing, the door opening and closing, and then quiet. He waited several seconds before throwing the book down on the table. If Potter wanted to get himself killed, he could bloody go ahead and do it. Draco wasn't about to go out of his way to stop him.

He frowned at the book lying on the table, pages skewed at odd angles. The book he had been going through was nearby, so Draco picked it up and opened it again. There was no way he was going to let Potter's stupid Gryffindor tendencies get in the way of his research. No way.

~*~*~*~*~*~

His whole body ached. His muscles were cramped and his limbs felt like dead weight. He knew it had been worth it, that destroying the horcrux was worth any amount of pain, but still… he wished it had been easier. Now, even walking through the hallway of Grimmauld Place was agony. His legs screamed at him and refused to cooperate, but he forced himself to keep on moving.

He had to get to the library. He had to tell Draco that he was okay. He wasn't sure why he had to, really, just that it was important and had to be done. Draco had seemed so upset with him earlier, and he really didn't know what to make of that.

Harry walked to the library slowly, breathing heavily and trying not to flinch with every step he took. It seemed as if he would never get there, that this corridor would go on forever and he would just walk down it, never reaching his destination.

That wasn't true, though, and after a few minutes he got to the door of the library. He pushed it open, half expecting Draco to have left and half hoping that he hadn't.

It was early morning. Light was just beginning to shine in through the windows, casting a faint white glow over the room. Books were scattered about as usual, covering everything in sight. Harry took the surroundings in with a glance and focused on the only occupied table in the room.

Draco was sitting there, reading. Harry took a moment to appreciate the sight. The way the light glinted off of Draco's hair, making it seem more like a halo or a crown than anything else. The way he was sitting in his chair, slowly leaning further and further back until he was slouching. The way his hands were clenched tightly to each side of the book, fingers stiff and knuckles white from the pressure. Harry watched as Draco sat there, not turning the pages, only staring at them, uncomprehending.

Draco's head lifted slowly. Harry watched as Draco stared out of the window in front of him, then as he sat up straight. He waited for Draco to turn around, so Harry could see his face, but Draco remained still. Harry swallowed, wanting to say something but feeling too tired to say something useful and too emotional to say something coherent.

"I knew you'd come back."

Draco's voice was what he had been waiting for. Harry's shoulders sagged and he walked over, slowly, carefully so as not to injure himself any further. He stood next to Draco's chair and waited for him to look up. He did, and their eyes met, and Harry reached out and laid his hand on Draco's cheek.

"I'll always come back."

To Be Continued.

Feedback really will get me writing faster. How much faster, I make no promises. -_-;;