17

"So, how was your summer, mate?" Ron asked when they had settled into a compartment in the middle of the train, "In your last letter it sounded like you were having fun." Harry smirked, remembering back to his last letter to Ron. It had been the night after he and Sirius had been to Diagon, and Knockturn, Alley. Harry had come out of the visit with not only his school things and a small sword (Sirius had eventually relented and told him that if Dumbledore asked, then it was all Harry's idea), but two piercings- one in the cartilage halfway up his right ear and the other through the back of his neck. Sirius's tattoo had been changed as well; a tiny lily covered the 'W', to commemorate Harry's mother. He had wanted to get an initial to represent Harry himself, but they had decided that he needed a marauder name first, and so needed to become an animagus. The books for Harry to begin studying from were in his trunk.

"Yeah, it was great," Harry grinned, "you have no idea how good it was to have Sirius there with me. I mean, not that it wasn't great to hang out at yours in the summer before," he hastily added, "but it always felt like I was borrowing your family, you know? And now it's like I have a family of my own." Hermione had been glaring at the two of them before this, angry at Harry for getting into fights (it wasn't that she was the boring bookworm, it was just that she was worried about him), and Ron for shrugging it off as nothing important. But at Harry's words she softened and smiled at him. It might be an unconventional family, she thought, but after so many years of having nobody, Harry deserved this.

"I'm happy for you, Harry," she said and he reached over and pulled her into a hug, "Scourgify!" she said as soon as he pulled away. All of the blood and sweat and dirt that had been covering Harry beforehand disappeared, leaving him clean even if his clothes were still ripped. She sighed. She had done the best she could. They settled down after that- Hermione to re-reading the course books, Ron to building a tower out of exploding snap cards, and Harry to exploring the contents of his trunk, having remembered that both Dobby and Sirius had told him to look through it.

The first thing he came across was a bundle of books and letters and photos that didn't belong to him. This must have been the stuff from the attic, he thought to himself, frowning slightly as he flicked through them.

"Holy shit!" he gasped as he recognised the people in one of the pictures. Ron was concentrating so hard that he didn't look up from his cards, but Hermione sent him a questioning gaze, eyeing the bundle in his hands curiously. "Never mind," he said hastily, putting his knees up in front of him to hide the papers. The picture on top showed a tiny blonde boy of about seven years old on a muggle swing whilst his friend, a dark skinned boy of about the same age pushed him. The next one was of the same pair, though they were slightly older, dressed in muggle clothing as they queued up at a cinema. He flicked through the small pile, finding five other photos of similar situations, all of the two boys at varying ages, before he found one with another lady in it. She was elegant but casual, standing next to the two boys in a formal pose, and Harry recognised her instantly. Andromeda Tonks. But what did Sirius's cousin have to do with Malfoy and Blaise?

He suddenly flashed back to earlier in the summer, to his encounter with the two boys as they tried to get into his house. What was it Blaise had said before he left?

"In the attic, there's some stuff of ours. I'd appreciate it if you could send it to us."

Huh, this must be what he had meant. Shaking his head, he put the photos to the back of the pile and turned his attention to the books instead. They seemed to be a strange collection of books written by muggle authors; The Hobbit was there, along with A Clockwork Orange, The Picture Of Dorian Gray and, of all things, the children's book A Very Hungry Caterpillar. He was thoroughly confused by the time he reached the letters in the pile. Every single one of them was addressed to 'My Dearest Nephew, Draco Malfoy'. Harry paused just before opening the first letter. For some reason, it felt like snooping, like he was about to read something private. He felt slightly guilty even thinking about it.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered as he realised what he had to do to assuage his guilt. Reaching into his trunk, he found a sheet of parchment and, under the curious gaze of both of his best friends (Ron's tower had exploded in his face a while before, but Harry had been too engrossed to notice), he wrapped the stack of papers and such up, hiding the evidence that both of the Slytherins had obviously wanted to conceal. He jumped up, leaving his jacket on the seat and ignoring the questions from Ron and Hermione, and left the compartment in search of a certain couple of fourth year Slytherins.

The reaction from the other students to him as he walked down the train was mixed, to say the least. He didn't want to be stereotypical, but this was one of those times that the lines between the houses was most obvious. Gryffindors called out greetings to him as he passed, many of them eyeing his new look with interest (though Seamus Finnegan's interest appeared to be double that of everyone else's). Slytherins sneered at him, though this was nothing new, and the braver ones threw insults at his back. The Ravenclaws looked him up and down with distaste, though a few of the girls seemed to share some of Seamus's views. The Hufflepuffs were simply friendly as ever, treating him no differently than they had before. There were exceptions to every house, however, and when he finally found the compartment he was looking for, Harry discovered that Blaise Zabini was most definitely one such exception.

"Potter," he nodded cordially, eyeing the large package in Harry's hands with interest.

"Zabini," Harry smirked, enjoying the looks of shock that had crossed the rest of the compartment's faces when Blaise had greeted him so politely. Blaise sat next to the door on the left, with Crabbe and Goyle beside him. On the opposite side, Malfoy lounged across the seat, while Pansy was pushed up into one corner with the blonde's head on her lap.

"What the fuck do you want, Potter?" Malfoy snarled without even lifting his head as he pointed his wand at his enemy.

"Well, now, my little caterpillar loving friend," Harry paused for a second to allow Draco to realise what the reference meant, "That's really no way to greet a person who holds your future in their hands now, is it?"

"Perhaps we should talk outside," Blaise said, standing and holding out a hand to help Draco up. Harry led the way out of the compartment, and took them down the train a bit before finding an empty one. Blaise and Draco followed him inside, and Blaise took a seat by the window, crossing his legs and looking for all the world as if he was about to have a casual chat with friends. Draco and Harry chose to stay standing, Draco by the window opposite Blaise, and Harry leaning against the closed door.

"Here," Harry broke the silence that had descended upon them, throwing the package in his hands to Blaise. The other boy raised an eyebrow at the wrapping, having guessed already what was inside.

"I assume you know exactly what is in this?" he asked.

"Of course. The pictures, the books, the letters-"

"You read my fucking letters?" Draco snapped suddenly, moving forward slightly and clenching one hand around his wand.

"No, you twat, I just saw that there were letters there, I have some manners for fuck's sake," Harry scoffed, reaching an arm up to scratch his head and casually showing off his wand in it's holster as an unspoken threat as to what would happen should Malfoy start anything.

"Thank you," Blaise's tone was genuine and Harry's eyes snapped towards him, confused. Perhaps there was some good in Slytherins after all, he thought.

"My pleasure," he answered slowly, eyes still fixed on the other boy suspiciously, as though expecting any second for him to retract the promise and become the nasty Slytherin Harry had assumed him to be.

"We'll just be going then," Blaise said, standing and waiting for Harry to move out of the way of the door, "Draco?" The blonde boy hadn't moved from his spot by the window.

"I'll just be a second, don't worry," Draco said imperiously, as though it was an order. Blaise frowned, that tone was usually reserved for Crabbe, Goyle or Pansy- he had never had it used on him before. Nevertheless, he inclined his head in agreement and moved out of the compartment, leaving the two enemies by themselves.

Draco glared at Harry, who rolled his eyes. He was too tired and hung-over this morning for the amateur theatrics that was Malfoy threatening him. Deciding to scare the boy out of the compartment instead, he took a stepped closer.

"So, Malfoy," Harry began in a teasing tone, "Me, you, an empty compartment, what is there to talk about?"

"What?" Malfoy hissed. He couldn't possibly have heard that right. It was simply impossibly unfair that Potter could look the way he did this morning (Malfoy always had liked the rough, bad boy look- a rebellion against his upbringing, he supposed) and then talk to him like that. His plan was going to pieces in his mind. All he had wanted was to threaten the bloody Boy Who Lived, and then get back to his compartment to be worshipped by Pansy. But no, nothing was ever simple where Harry Bloody Potter was concerned.

"You know what I said," Harry answered, tugging one corner of his mouth up into a crooked smile and taking another step closer to Malfoy. His tone was his most seductive, and although he hadn't practised it nearly as much as he had his angry or threatening voices, he was confident that it wasn't too bad. Of course, it helped that Malfoy was gorgeous- all pale skin and blonde hair. Shaking his head minutely to clear such thoughts from his mind (where had they come from, anyway, he asked himself), he moved even closer to Malfoy, standing inches in front of him. Harry was taller by about half a foot, which meant that Malfoy was forced to look up at the dark haired boy to see him.

"So," Harry said in a breathy tone, "What is there to talk about?" Malfoy looked up at the dazzling green eyes that were locked to his and froze. How long he stood there for, his mouth open dumbly but no words coming out of it, he didn't know, but when he finally managed to work his mouth, he found to his surprise that actual words came out of it, instead of nonsense.

"Fuck you, Potter," he spat out, contorting his face into an angry snarl.

"I thought we already covered that, Malfoy, and I hate to reject a guy twice-" Harry got no further as Malfoy barged past him and almost ran from the compartment.

Harry's ringing laughter followed him down the train.