Lumos Obscurum

Chapter 8 - The Burrow

By the time Tuesday morning arrived, Draco had become quite good at card games. He was an expert in Hearts, Crazy Eights, and War. Presently, he and Harry were sitting across from each other on the bed, with Draco trying to convince Harry to explain to him the finer points of poker.

"I don't know that much about it myself," Harry said. "I've only played a couple times."

"Just tell me what you know, then," Draco said impatiently. "All I really want to do is pass the time until the Weasels arrive."

"Don't call them that," Harry said, almost automatically. The truth is that Harry was actually getting used to Draco's mannerisms.

Draco heaved a deep, exaggerated sigh. "I want to pass the time until the Weasleys get here. That better?"

Harry shrugged, then dealt the cards.

"Why do you want to know so much about this game, anyway?" Harry asked.

"It's not that I want to, Potter, it's that this the only thing left to do."

"Did you pack all your stuff?" Harry himself had packed his own things last night while Draco slept.

"My stuff was never unpacked. There was nowhere to put anything," Draco sniffed as he looked disdainfully around Harry's small room. "Even the dormitory room I share with four other people has more space than this."

"You'll just have to live with it," Harry said, annoyed.

"Yes," Draco said regretfully. "I suppose even the Weasleys have a smaller house than this."

"The Burrow may not be big, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "But it sure is better than this."

The two boys played cards and munched on the last few items of food that remained in silence for the rest of the morning. And Draco, despite his low experience, won nearly every game of cards. "Simply another one of my many skills," Draco said had haughtily.

Harry had snorted at this, but restrained from commenting. He didn't feel like starting another argument, especially when it seemed like he and Draco were getting on okay today.

Unexpectedly, around noon, the bedroom door opened with a soft click, and Uncle Vernon poked his large face in the room. He gazed at the boys sitting on Harry's bed playing cards for a minute before settling his malicious gaze onto Harry.

"Those freak friends of yours," he said nastily, "have just arrived. Now collect your stuff, and get out."

Harry swiftly put the cards away, picked up Hedwig's cage with one hand and dragged his trunk out the door with the other. Draco followed closely behind, just as eager as Harry to leave the Muggle house.

Their trunks clunked down each step, and they entered the living room. Harry looked around hopefully for the Weasleys, but the only person there was Aunt Petunia, who was standing in the centre of the room with her arms crossed and her left foot tapping.

"Your friends are outside," Aunt Petunia said unkindly. "After what happened last time, I'm not letting them set one foot into this house. Even now Dudders is refusing to come out of his room, and we don't want to upset him any further."

"No, we most certainly do not," Draco agreed, with false kindness.

Aunt Petunia stared down her long nose at the blond boy. "And I will thank you, boy, to not cross our threshold again."

"Believe me," Draco said condescendingly. "That won't be a problem." He threw opened the front door and said, "Come on, Potter."

Harry stepped outside and called a half-hearted, "Bye," over his shoulder, but received no reply in response. Though, he can't say that he expected one.

Outside, he was greeted with the sight of Mr. Weasley, standing by a parked red car closely examining the mailbox, and Ron, who was yawning and leaning heavily against the side of the house.

Harry's face split into a wide grin when he saw his friend. "Ron!" he said enthusiastically.

"Oh - hullo, Harry," Ron looked up and smiled at him through another yawn. Harry set his stuff down on the stoop and went over to hug Ron, happy to at last see a friendly face.

Ron returned his hug, then pulled back and promptly yawned again. "Sorry Harry," he said, smiling sheepishly. "Long drive... had to leave at 5..."

By that time, Mr. Weasley had made his way over, and clapped Harry hard on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Harry, lad," he said. "How are you doing? Alright?" his voice maintained an air of cheerfulness, but his eyes were intently probing Harry's face.

"Er- yes, okay I suppose," Harry said uneasily, feeling uncomfortable under Mr. Weasley's stare.

"Harry... what happened last June..." Mr. Weasley started quietly, "You know can talk to any of us about it. We always have an ear to spare-"

A sharp bang prevented Mr. Weasley from going any further, to Harry's relief. All three of them looked up and saw that the door to the house was shut; most likely Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon had slammed it.

"What the-" Ron was staring at the front porch with an expression of growing horror on his face. It wasn't the abrupt manner that the Dursleys had shut Harry out that he was staring in astonishment at... rather, it was the figure standing on the front stoop.

Draco was glaring daggers at the house, looking very much as if he would like to curse it.

"Um," Harry said.

"Harry..." Ron started again. "Harry... what's he doing here?"

Mr. Weasley tugged at his shirt collar, looking nervous. "Now, Ron, I told you that someone else might be coming along in addition to Harry."

"But... but... but... HIM?" Ron spluttered.

Draco approached coolly. "Yes Weasley, me."

"Hello, er, Draco," Mr. Weasley said, with a fatherly expression on his face.

Draco nodded his head steadily in acknowledgement to the older man.

Harry looked confused. "Wait... Mr. Weasley, you already know about Malfoy?"

"Dumbledore owled us about a week ago, telling us what had happened, and giving us permission to invite the both of you to stay at the Burrow for the rest of the summer."

"Dad," Ron protested. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Well, er," Mr. Weasley pulled at his collar nervously again. "Molly was.. shall we say, less than pleased at this. It took her a few days to come ‘round, even though Dumbledore clearly explained the situation..."

"And what about you?" Ron demanded. "Have you not realised that this is Draco Malfoy?"

"There is no need to talk about me as if I weren't here," Draco said coldly, narrowing his eyes at Ron.

"Malfoy, don't start anything... you knew it would be like this."

"Why does he have to live with us, Dad? Hasn't he got his own ruddy home to laze about in?

"I'll start whatever I please, Potter."

"Don't you talk to Harry that way-"

"Boys, please!" Mr. Weasley said wearily. "Please, it's a long trip back to the Burrow. We can talk about this in the car. Let's just get your trunks into the back, and we can head out."

But instead of talking, the car ride to the Weasleys was filled with a tense silence, punctuated occasionally by Mr. Weasley's attempts at conversation. Ron sulked in the passenger seat, Draco glared out the back window, and Harry sat fiddling with his fingernails.

"So, er, having a good summer, Harry?" Mr. Weasley glanced at him in the rearview mirror

"Yeah... yeah it's been okay," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"And you, Draco?"

Draco's scowl only deepened.

"Er, right then," Mr. Weasley said. "Well, Molly will have supper ready for us when we return... but to hold us over..." He pushed a small blue button on the dashboard, and a tray filled with sandwiches and a pitcher of iced tea popped out from the glove compartment.

Mr. Weasley looked back at Harry and winked. "One of a few extra charms I've added to the car. Take care not to mention it to Molly, though, she won't like it."

Ron passed the sandwiches around. He glared at Draco as he handed him his, and Draco sneered right back at him.

Harry sighed and bit glumly into his sandwich.

The rest of the drive was in silence. Although, it seemed to Harry that anytime they approached a stop light it conveniently changed to green, so they made relatively good time.

Still, it was dusk when they at last pulled into the Weasley's drive.

Harry looked out the window as the Burrow came into sight, and felt a slow smile curve his face. Maybe things would finally get better.

Mr. Weasley pulled the car into the garage, and they all climbed out. Draco was looking around with an expression of disdain on his pale face. He opened his mouth, but Harry elbowed him sharply before he had the chance to say anything.

"Don't," Harry hissed fiercely.

Draco frowned and rubbed his arm reproachfully, but kept his mouth shut.

They went outside into the cool night air, and Mr. Weasley called across the lawn to his wife.

Molly Weasley came out of a side door, wearing a flowered apron over her robes, and holding a wooden stirring spoon in one hand. She beamed at Harry, but the smile directed at Draco seemed somewhat forced.

"Hello boys," she said brightly. "Supper's just about ready, we'll be eating out in the backyard since it's such a lovely night."

She kissed Mr. Weasley hello. "I trust the journey was okay? Uneventful?"

"Er, yes, dear," Mr. Weasley answered nervously. "Everything was fine."

Mrs. Weasley peered suspiciously at her husband. "Nothing out of the ordinary, then? No problems... incidents... flying?"

"N-no dear, no flying."

Mrs. Weasley looked over at Harry, as if for confirmation.

Harry barely held back a grin. "No, Mrs. Weasley, there wasn't any flying."

"Well," Mr. Weasley said loudly, clasping his hands together. "Better check on supper then, shall we?" He quickly went inside the house before Mrs. Weasley could question him further.

Draco glanced over at Harry inquisitively. "Flying?"

"Nothing," Harry told him, sharing a grin with Ron.

Mrs. Weasley ushered them all into the house. "Well come on then, dears. Ron, show them where they're going to sleep, while I make sure your father doesn't burn supper." Mrs. Weasley hurried off towards the kitchen. They caught a whiff of something that smelled dangerously like burnt socks before Ron led them up the stairs.

They reached the second floor, and Ron told Harry and Draco that they'd be staying in the twins' old room.

Draco's eyes widened. "You mean we still have to share a room?"

"Well," Ron looked flushed. "There's nowhere else. Since Charlie's here, he's been sleeping in his and Bill's old room... and Percy's room... we've turned that into a study for Dad, since, well, you know..."

"It's okay," Harry said quickly, although he privately felt the same as Draco did at the prospect of sharing a room for another two weeks. "We can manage."

Ron looked apologetically at Harry. "Sorry, mate... I didn't think much of it when Mum and Dad decided... but I didn't know that it would be him..."

"It's okay," Harry said again. He pushed open the door to the twins' former room and looked inside. "At least there are two beds in here... I've been kipping on the floor for a week."

"Oh have you, now..." Ron frowned at Draco.

Draco bristled. "Well surely I couldn't be expected to sleep on the floor every night," he said, shuddering.

"It was Harry's room, you know-"

"Enough," Harry cut in. "Both of you. C'mon, let's go downstairs to see if we can help with supper."

In the kitchen, Ron made a pitcher full of punch, and Mrs. Weasley piled dishes and silverware into Harry's and Draco's arms to take outside.

Harry pushed the backdoor open and went outside in the backyard. There was a large wooden table with some chairs set up. There were a few lanterns floating around, casting an orange glow on everything. Mr. Weasley was out there already, along with Charlie, Ginny, and-

"Hermione!" Harry smiled broadly. He dropped his armload of dishes onto the table and strode over to her.

"Harry!" Hermione looked up from her discussion with Ginny and returned his smile, hugging him. "How are you, Harry? I've been so worried, you having to stay with the Dursleys again and, well, everything," she said, throwing a dark look over at Draco, who was busy ignoring them.

Harry followed her gaze. "Oh, so you know, then?"

"Mr. Weasley told me just now. Why-"

Hermione didn't get a chance to finish, because Ginny now said brightly, "Hullo, Harry!"

"Hi Ginny," Harry smiled at her. Charlie came up to them then, and Harry added, "hello, Charlie."

Charlie mussed Harry's hair with a calloused hand. "Hey, Harry."

"Taking a break from the dragons, then?" Harry asked.

"Decided my place was here for right now," Charlie said merrily.

"Supper!" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out, and she came outside, levitating a tray piled high with food in front of her. Ron followed with his pitcher of punch.

Ginny took the pitcher from Ron and poured herself a glassful.

"What kind of punch did you make, then?" she asked Ron.

"Uh, lemonade. Made it fresh and everything," Ron answered proudly.

"How much sugar did you use?"

"Sugar?" Ron repeated blankly.

Ginny promptly choked on the sip she had just taken. "Oh, Ron..." she sighed.

They all sat down to dinner (after Charlie had added some sugar to Ron's lemonade with a flick of his wand). Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat on one end, the rest of the Weasleys in the middle, and Draco sat down on the far end, eating quickly and keeping to himself.

"How was Italy, then?" Harry asked Hermione before spooning some soup into his mouth. It was nice to finally have some real food after living a few days with the limited amount of items he and Draco had managed to sneak into his room at the Dursleys.

"Oh, it was simply wonderful, Harry," Hermione said excitedly. She then launched into a long speech about the cultural and historic landmarks in and around Italy, including her tour of the Vatican.

In a matter of moments, Ron looked like he could barely keep his eyes open. "Why'd you have to get her started?" he whispered to Harry.

Harry shrugged and chuckled quietly... he had missed this.

A few minutes later, Draco stood up and excused himself from the table, claiming that the journey had tired him out and that he wanted to head up to bed.

"Of course, Draco," Mrs. Weasley said, pausing in her conversation with Mr. Weasley, Ginny, and Charlie about an owl they had just received from Dumbledore that very morning. "Do you remember the way?"

Draco only nodded in reply and went inside the house.

"Good, he's gone," Ron said quietly once Draco had left.

Harry frowned. "He wasn't bothering anyone, Ron. Truthfully, I expected him to act much worse than this."

Hermione, having completed her lecture on St. Peter's Basilica, looked thoughtfully at where Draco had been sitting. "He has been acting rather, well, civil."

Ron poked angrily at his food with his fork. "This is Malfoy we're talking about, remember? Just you wait, he'll start acting like his old self again soon. Why is he here, anyway, Harry? I can't get a blasted thing out of Mum or Dad."

Harry only shrugged his shoulders. "Haven't the foggiest."

Hermione looked at Harry curiously. "You don't know?"

Harry shook his head. "He hasn't told me, and I haven't pushed things."

Ron sighed. "Well I can't imagine having to live in the same room with that prat for more than five minutes, let alone an entire week."

Harry stared down at his plate. "It wasn't that bad. I was sort of grateful for the company, actually," he said quietly.

Hermione looked at him anxiously. "Harry, you know if we could've done something, we would have..."

"Never mind it," Harry said quickly. He pushed his chair back and stood up. "I think I'm going to get to bed now. Mrs. Weasley, thanks for dinner. G'night, everyone."

A chorus of "Night, Harry," echoed around the yard as Harry made his way inside.

When he reached his room, he found that Draco was still awake, sitting up on one of the beds staring into the darkness.

"Well then?" Harry asked. "D'you think you can survive here for the next couple of weeks?"

There was a long silence. "Well," Draco said finally. "At least the food's decent."

"The people are decent too, if you'd give them a chance," Harry said, climbing into the other bed.

"Maybe," Draco said indifferently.

Neither boy said anything more and Harry shut his eyes, but it was at least an hour before he finally managed to drop off to sleep.

***

When Harry woke the next morning, Draco was not there. It was rather late in the morning, so he figured that Draco had already gone down for breakfast. He rolled out of bed, rummaged around in his trunk for some fresh clothes, and went downstairs.

He went into the kitchen and found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sitting at the table, talking in low tones. They glanced up as Harry entered the room.

"Morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, standing up. "Here, have a seat, I'll fix you some breakfast."

"Thanks," Harry said. He sat down across from Mr. Weasley as Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen. A few minutes later he had a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him.

Mrs. Weasley sat back down in her seat, next to Mr. Weasley, and they watched him with troubled stares.

Harry chewed a bite slowly, and swallowed, shifting uneasily in his seat under their gazes.

"Uh... it's very good," Harry said, thinking maybe that's what they were wondering about, though he doubted it.

"What? Oh, thank you, dear," Mrs. Weasley said distractedly.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley began now, as Harry took a second bite. "We wanted to talk to you about something."

"What's the matter? Has something happened?" Harry asked worriedly.

"No, no," Mr. Weasley assured him quickly. "Nothing like that, Harry, no need to fret."

"Oh," Harry relaxed. "Well, what is it then?"

"Back at your relatives' house, Harry, I didn't get the chance to finish telling you that, well... we're always here to listen."

"Oh Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley cut in. "What we are trying to say we're worried about you."

"You're worried?" Harry asked warily.

"We're scared for you because of what you went through last June in the Ministry, Harry. We wanted to tell you that it might be a good idea to talk about what happened. It might be good for you to get it off your chest..."

Harry set down his fork; he had lost his appetite. "There's nothing that I want to talk about," he said quickly.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged looks. "Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "please, we should talk about what happened to Sirius-"

Harry stood up abruptly. "I've got to go," he mumbled, walking hurriedly away from the table and through the first escape he saw: the back door.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley's distressed voice called after him, but Harry ignored her. Harry walked away from the house rapidly, his hands balled into fists at his sides. They're only trying to help, he told himself. They only want to help.

But couldn't people just get it through their thick heads that he didn't need help? He didn't want to talk about what had happened with Sir... well, he just didn't want to talk about it. Couldn't the world just understand that?

He heard voices coming through a thicket of trees, and, eager to distract himself, he headed towards them.

He entered a small clearing where he found Hermione sitting under a shady tree with a book, Crookshanks lounging idly at her side. Charlie, Ginny, and Ron standing in a huddle with their brooms, and Draco slouching against a tree farther away, simply watching everyone.

Harry went over to the Weasley's small circle. "What's up?"

Ron looked up. "Hi Harry! We've been waiting for you. How about a little Quidditch? You and me against Charlie and Ginny? We can take them easy."

Charlie let loose a deep laugh. "Yeah, right.... Have you seen Ginny's Chasing skills? We would annihilate you."

Ron rolled his eyes at them, but grinned and looked back at Harry. "So how ‘bout it?"

Harry glanced over at Draco, who was still silently watching the proceedings. "That would leave Malfoy out."

"Malfoy?" Ron asked dubiously. "Since when do you care about Malfoy?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "We just shouldn't leave anybody out."

Ron heaved a sigh and looked towards Hermione. "Oi, Hermione! Will you play with us then, so we can have an even number? Harry doesn't want Malfoy to be left out," he added sarcastically.

Hermione silently shook her head without taking her eyes off the pages of her book.

"It won't work," Ginny spoke up.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "We've tried to get her to play before, but all she does is sit there and read. Don‘t know how she can read something like that... and during summer, too!"

Harry took a closer look at the massive book Hermione was absorbed in. It was entitled, A Long, Drawn Out, and Rather Boring History of Europe.

"C'mon, Harry," Ginny urged him. "It'll be fun."

Harry glanced quickly over at Draco again and shook his head. "I'm not in much of a mood for Quidditch today, anyhow."

"Oh," Ron said despondently. "Well, since you'd rather hang out with Malfoy then with us..." He turned to his brother and sister. "Come on then, guys, you two can give me some Keeper practise."

He and Ginny set off for the practise field they used. Charlie stayed long enough to clap Harry on the shoulder and say quietly, "Chin up, Harry. Ron can be a bit of a git sometimes. I'll make sure to bean him with the Quaffle once for you," Charlie winked and left.

Harry walked over to Draco, hands shoved into his trouser pockets.

Draco was staring at Harry questioningly with his grey eyes as he approached. "Why didn't you go with them?"

"I didn't feel much like Quidditch, didn't you hear me say?" he said. "Let's take a walk."

They set off into a deeper part of the woods surrounding the Burrow. After a few minutes of walking, they came across a dirt trail. Harry, without a word, steered them onto it, and Draco followed his lead without protest.

The trail led them further into the woods, and now there were only a few rays of sunlight that were peeking through the cracks of the canopy above them.

"You don't like it here," Harry stated, kicking a small tree branch out of his path.

"Better than where we were," Draco said evenly.

"You should try harder," Harry told him. "You should've played Quidditch with us."

"You said you didn't want to play."

"I know."

They walked on for what felt like a mile more, before Harry stopped under a big oak tree. "Let's rest here for a bit before we head back. Should be nearly supper time by then."

"Yeah, okay," Draco said, and sat easily on the ground with his legs folded under him. He leaned back against the thick tree trunk and breathed in deeply. Harry sat down next to him.

Draco picked up a small stone off the ground and began tossing it in the air.

Harry combed his fingers through his hair, shutting his eyes as he did so. The sun was bright against his closed eyelids, and he listened to the forest sounds around him, including the soft sound of the stone rhythmically thumping against Draco's hand.

"Potter," Draco's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"Yeah?"

"You want to know why I'm here," Draco said simply.

Harry straightened up and looked at Draco. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I do."

Draco let the stone fall to the ground and stared at it for a long moment before continuing.

"Mum died," he said finally. "Murdered."

Harry felt his eyes widen. Narcissa Malfoy? Dead?

"Who...?" he started in response, but let his voice trail off because he figured that he already knew who was responsible. There could only be one person.

"It was Voldemort," Draco said, confirming Harry's thoughts. He wasn't meeting Harry's eyes but instead was staring intently at the ground, his hair falling gently into his face. "Voldemort killed her..." he continued emotionlessly. "And I watched."

He picked up the stone again, and crushed it inside his fist. "I watched it, Potter," he said again, his voice now taut. "I saw it happen, and I couldn't do a damned thing."

"What happened, Malfoy?" Harry asked him softly.

"Voldemort murdered her. Because he wanted to get to me. He wanted me, not her, but she was in his way. She sent me upstairs before he came... told me to take cover in my room... that I would be safe there. But I hid at the top of the stairs instead, and watched the whole thing. I willed her to move... to get out of his way, to just let him get through, but she didn't. And he killed her for it."

"Malfoy..."

"Don't interrupt me, Potter," he said harshly, staring at Harry with hard eyes at last. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

Harry mutely nodded his head.

"Voldemort killed her," Draco repeated again. "Then came up the stairs for me. But some Aurors Apparated in. Dumbledore was there too. But I ran. I'm sure Voldemort escaped too, though, or we would've certainly heard otherwise.

"I ran while everybody was distracted with him. I left the manor, and went into town, with nothing but my wand. One doesn't really have time to pack when one has a dark lord after him," Draco smiled wryly.

"I ran for about a week... wandered around... stole food whenever I could. I tried to rob a jewellery place-"

Harry couldn't stop a laugh from escaping him, and even Draco had to look rueful. "It was probably that which did it. Shouldn't have drawn attention to myself. That's how McGonagall found me."

Harry recalled dimly Uncle Vernon reading about an attempted heist of a local jewellery shop, the very morning Draco had arrived at Privet Drive. "I think you even made the papers," he said.

"Anyways, McGonagall found me, told me off for a solid hour about running away like that, threatened me with eternal detentions of misery and the like.... finally she put me in Muggle clothes and dumped me at your place."

"Why my house?" Harry wondered aloud.

Draco lifted one shoulder. "How am I to know? It was the closest, I suppose. She's probably had other reasons, though, but I've no idea what they were."

"She could've easily taken you to Hogwarts or some place like that. Surely that would've been better..." Harry mused, making a mental note to ask McGonagall about this when he returned to school.

"I don't know, alright?" Draco said irritably. "She barely told me anything, said she was in a hurry. Though," he added darkly. "She did find time to mention that she'd transfigure me into a pincushion if I was anything but courteous to you."

"Well then, I'll just have to remind her of that once we get back to school..."

"Oh shut up, I was perfectly pleasant."

Harry only grinned slightly before turning serious again, deciding to ask something that had been bugging him.

"Malfoy," he started. "Why did Voldemort want you in the first place?"

Draco exhaled a breath deeply, looking like a person resigned to a cruel fate.

"Voldemort wanted me because I'm a Genupaean."

"A... a Genupaean?" Harry repeated, confused.

"Right," Draco said. "Like a Healer, I guess."

"A Healer as in the St. Mungo's Healers?"

"Sort of... well, no, maybe not. A Genupaean's talent is innate, and they are much more powerful... or they can be, once they reach their full potential. For me, it won't be for a while yet. I only just discovered it last December."

"What happened last December?" Harry asked, now very bewildered about the entire thing.

"I turned 16. That's when it happens. The Genupaean's powers don't manifest until they've reached 16."

Harry stared at Draco suspiciously. The Slytherin seemed sincere... but Draco has proved that he is capable of deceit... and Harry had never heard of such a thing as a Genupaean.

"You're lying," Harry said.

"I'm not," Draco argued. "Why would I lie about a thing like this?"

Harry contemplated his fingers for a couple moments. "Alright," he said finally. "What's the big deal about being a Genupaean, then? Why does Voldemort want one so much?"

"Honestly, Potter... do you not pay attention at all in History of Magic? Binns went on and on about them for nearly an entire week a year or so ago..."

"I usually just copy Hermione's notes..."

"They're really rare," Draco snapped. "Roughly one born every quarter of a century... far more powerful than any spoken spell... abilities to heal the most deadly wounds with a touch? Is any of this ringing a bell?"

Harry shook his head.

Draco leaned back and heaved a sigh. "Hopeless."

"I'm not hopeless," Harry protested.

"Remember last week when we had that fight?" Draco said abruptly. "I recovered practically overnight, but you had those bruises for days."

Harry blinked. He had forgotten about that.

"And after you nearly collapsed from doing the Cruciatus Curse? I healed you that night. You didn't have any nightmares, did you? And you felt fine the next morning, right? That's why. That was the most healing I had ever done at one time, and it took so much out of me that finally sometime in the middle of the night, I just collapsed in the chair by the bed in exhaustion. And that was why I was not in a very good mood the next morning, to say the least."

Harry thought back to the soothing hand on his forehead that night, and realised suddenly that that must've been Draco's. And Draco had been acting awfully strange the morning after....

"Go on, think it over," Draco scowled. "Then keep trying to tell yourself that the whole thing doesn't exist. That I don't exist."

"It's just hard to take in all at once," Harry weakly defended himself. "So you discovered you had natural healing powers when you turned 16...?"

"Right. And Father went and told Voldemort. Think about it, Potter. A Genupaean would be an invaluable resource to anyone, let alone someone who's trying to conquer Europe. Father wanted Voldemort to know he had a son that would be of great value to him. That would put him in quite a high standing with the Dark Lord, to be sure. Although..." Draco added thoughtfully. "Could be that Father really just wanted to be able to finally participate in those father-son Death Eater games. We did win the relay that year after all..."

At Harry's look, Draco quickly moved back to the original subject. "Anyway. Father told Voldemort that he'd bring me to him over the summer. But then Father landed himself in Azkaban, and Voldemort decided it was time to come get me himself. And the rest you know," he finished.

"So... are you a Death Eater?" Harry asked cautiously.

"No," Draco answered quickly. "Voldemort didn't get me, remember?"

"But do you want-"

"No," Draco said before Harry finished the question. "No, I don't. Mum knew that. She said she would protect me. One of the reasons why she taught me Cruciatus. She would've taught me other curses, only... only Voldemort got to her first."

Draco quieted and looked off into the distance. "She was a good person. She wouldn't have handed her only son over to Voldemort. Unlike her husband."

He gave a bitter sort of laugh. "She's gone, though. No one to protect me now. I'm on my own."

"There's me," Harry said at once, without even realising he was saying it. "There's always me."

Draco scowled unpleasantly. "I do not need your protection, Harry Potter."

"I know - no, that wasn't what I was saying... I meant..." Harry trailed off. "I don't know what I meant. I think it's that you're not alone, like you said. Because I'm here now."

"We're not friends, Potter," Draco said icily.

"No," Harry agreed. "I'm not sure what we are. But we're not enemies anymore. We're not rivals. What you told me just now... you wouldn't have told it to anybody else. You wouldn't have even told it to me a month ago."

Draco looked at Harry contemplatively now. "No, I suppose I wouldn't. But you've never told me about what on earth happened to you last year. Even though I've asked, and even though I've just told you everything about me..."

"No, I haven't." Harry said quietly. "But maybe one day. Maybe one day I would."

Draco stared pensively at the setting sun. "You can't tell anyone about me being a Genupaean. It wouldn't be good if everyone knew."

"I won't," Harry said.

"This works out great, then," Draco said with a half-grin. "You won't tell anyone I'm a Genupaean, and I won't tell anyone you're a moron."

Harry snorted.

"Although..." Draco added, upon reflection. "Anybody who really knows you would've surely realised that by now."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said amiably.

Draco smirked. "I think it's suppertime."

"Yeah," Harry said, standing up and wiping the dirt off himself. "Yeah, I guess it is. We should go back."

Draco stood up too, and the two boys headed back towards the house.

Harry walked alongside Draco, in companionable silence. Something had just changed between him and Draco. Even though Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, and even though neither of them would voice it any further than they already have, Harry knew that things had finally changed.