Draco slept soundly but woke straight up at six. He got out of bed, and peered into Harry's room. Harry was still snoring, so he crept to the bathroom and cleaned up as quietly as he could. When he stuck his head out the bathroom door again Harry was still asleep.

Draco checked his pockets. He had some pound notes now from his pay at Hogwarts because he'd asked to be paid in Muggle money since he didn't travel in wizard circles these days. He decided to nip down to the grocers and make Harry a proper breakfast since there was still so little food in the house.

He softly closed the door behind him and trotted quickly down the stairs.

Draco whistled as he sauntered down the lane in the pink light of morning. He was feeling quite happy, happier than he'd felt in…well, years. Magic was back in his life. He really missed it. And he was intrigued by the potions list and happy that, so far, they had gone so well. Some of the others would take longer, but the hardest ones were done and they looked potent. He'd have to test them today, of course, but it all looked promising.

He hummed and entered the grocer's and grabbed a couple of large, red tomatoes, eggs, bread, marmalade, and a pound of bacon. Flush with his packages, Draco leapt over the threshold and ran smack into a heavily cloaked man. A bright apology was on the tip of Draco's tongue when he looked up and his throat closed on his words.

The man was broad-shouldered and flat-faced as if someone had pushed his face into the street; flat nose, flat lips, flat forehead. His eyes were a dull grey under heavy black brows. And then those eyes widened on recognizing Draco. "Malfoy!" he hissed.

Draco frowned and said nothing, and side-stepped the man instead. But the man insisted and grabbed Draco's shoulder, dragging him back.

Draco shook him off. He almost grabbed for his wand, but thought better of it. Just because he possessed a wand temporarily didn't mean he could flash it about. "Lay off me, Mercer! I haven't got a thing to say to you."

"Oh I think you have. Shall we go somewhere where we can talk?"

"I said, 'NO'!"

The hand on Draco's shoulder squeezed painfully. The man outweighed Draco by several stone and one of his arms was like two of Draco's. "And I said 'yes'."

Draco looked around to see if anyone on the street noticed them, but there didn't appear to be anyone out that early. "All right!" he hissed. "Over here." He led the man to a coffee stall and ducked under the canopy with him, trying to stay in the shadows. "What the hell do you want? I thought you were in Azkaban."

The man chuckled. It was a rumbling sound, like rocks thrown into a deep pool. "Minx Mercer in Azkaban? They tried, but I got away. I'm surprised you are free, young Mr. Malfoy."

"They didn't send me. Extenuating circumstances."

"Oh indeed. Me and our other brethren have been looking for you."

"Others? How many others?"

"Enough."

"Oh give it up, will you. Voldemort is dead."

"Indeed. The Dark Lord is dead. But if we are strong enough, we can carry on his work."

"What work? Flouncing around shooting Dark Marks in the sky? Killing Muggles?" Draco lowered his voice as a few people wandered by. "I'm out of the Death Eater game," he whispered harshly. "Tell that to my former mates." He turned to leave, but Mercer grabbed his arm again.

"You're a Malfoy. You belong with us. There are many that would stand behind you as the next Dark Lord."

"You're mad! Shove off!"

Mercer stared at Draco with an almost hurt expression but it quickly changed to one more sinister. "Where is it you spend your days, Malfoy?" he said quietly. "The others are anxious to know."

"Well you can tell the others to sod off! Now let go of me or lose that hand."

Mercer merely tightened his hold. "There's a rumor that you are spending your days at Hogwarts in the company of the Dark Lord's enemy Harry Potter. That can't be true, son of a Pureblood."

"Don't give me that Pureblood crap. Even Voldemort was a Half-blood. Bet you would never have called him a Half-blood to his face."

"We, the last of the true followers of Voldemort, are rising again. There are many who wish to join us."

"Yeah, there are a lot of losers out there."

"Harry Potter is still alive. We can't have that."

Draco's chest suddenly warmed with a painful twinge. "Harry Potter is nothing to you anymore."

"Once he's dead we are free to rise again."

"Look, Mercer, you've no idea what you're up against. Dumbledore, the Order, the Ministry, Potter himself. You can't win. You didn't. Just drop it!" He stuffed his own mouth with bacon and eggs, sopping up his plate with a thick slice of toast.

Draco cleaned the kitchen while Harry bathed. When Harry was dressed he came out of his room with a broad smile. "You actually look anxious to get back."

Draco smiled and shoved his busy hands in his pockets. "Well…I am."

"Good! I told you it would work out. Let's go."

They flooed to Harry's study and shook the soot off of themselves and stepped from the fireplace.

Draco waved Harry off and hurried to the potions dungeons. He flicked the wand and lit the torches and then peered into his cauldrons with a deep smile. "My lovelies," he cooed. All had gone well, very well indeed. But he was going to have to test the potions and not one of them could be tested on humans, he supposed for ethical reasons, something he was never particularly concerned with before.

He got the bright idea to use a few plants that might do the trick and so headed to the greenhouses to talk with Professor Sprout. He saw her busily repotting in the far corner in bright shafts of sun and he approached her in as humble a manner as he could muster. After all, he hadn't really met many teachers here during his stay, preferring to keep himself cloistered with Harry to avoid any unpleasantness. He cleared his throat and Sprout looked up. Her usually bright eyes suddenly narrowed and she wiped her hands on her apron, her lips pressed tight.

"Ah…Professor Sprout. Might I have a word?"

"Malfoy." Her tone and expression ordinarily would have given him pause and he tried to convince himself that he had a right to be here-Dumbledore had given him that right. But standing under her mistrustful glare didn't make it any easier to believe that.

"Professor, I am brewing some potions for the headmaster and I would like to try them out. Do you have any Leach Weed or Tergum Plant?"

Sprout sighed and kept her narrowed eyes squarely on Draco. "The headmaster said?" Her suspicion was as thick as the mist hovering over her field of plants in the sunlit greenhouse.

Draco clenched his teeth trying to keep his anger under control. "I certainly wouldn't be brewing any potions unless Professor Dumbledore allowed it…Ma'am."

She expelled a sound somewhere between a 'humpf' and a snort. "What sort of potions, Mr. Malfoy?"

"A skin disintegrator, a hyperventilating potion, a shrinking potion…there are a lot more. I won't need to test all of them, but I certainly have no intention of testing them on myself."

"Or anyone else, I trust," she said under her breath.

Draco scowled. "No, Ma'am. Definitely not on anyone else."

She moved past him to comply and gave him a few plants in pots, bundling them one on top of the other in his arms. "They won't be any good to me once you're done with them, Malfoy, so please be kind enough to destroy them. Oh. And one thing more."

He turned back to her with a sigh. He almost escaped unscathed, but he could guess as to what was coming. He wasn't disappointed.

"The headmaster often makes dubious decisions that the rest of us do not agree with. We do not pretend to understand Dumbledore's ways or choices. But if I discover that you have stepped out of line one iota, Mr. Malfoy-after all you put this school through, not to mention jeopardizing the entire Wizarding world-I shall not hesitate to use an Unforgivable on you. I don't care what they do to me. Have I made myself clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

He glared down on the diminutive teacher, bunched up like some giant toadstool with her hand on her wand. "Crystal, Professor Sprout." He spun on his heel and hurried out of the greenhouse.

He breathed a sigh of relief to be getting back to the dungeons and set the plants aside, separating the Tergum Plant. He decided to test the skin disintegrator first and took a dropper of the potion and let a drop fall on a Tergum leaf. The plant shuddered and instantly the leaf smoldered and withered. Draco smiled from ear to ear. It was a nasty potion and he'd never made it before. Certainly in his Slytherin days he would have been happy to use it, might have even used it on Dumbledore had he thought of it…and then his smile quickly vanished. What was he thinking? That's just the sort of mindset he had to excise once and for all. What would Harry think? He sat back, slumping on his stool. It seemed to all come down to that, of late. What would Harry think? Funny how his one-time enemy had become so important to his present well being. Who could have ever imagined it! And all in the span of a week and a half. If he hadn't run into Harry, hadn't gotten sacked because of him, where would he be today? "Working in some sodding tea shop, no doubt. Or living in a gutter sick on firewhiskey or whatever it is Muggles drink."

He put his thoughts aside and tested the other potions. All worked perfectly well. He put on his dragonskin gloves and carefully ladled out the potions into bottles, corking them and marking them clearly. He stored them in the potions cabinet and got down his list to start on the next several. When he looked up, Dumbledore stood in the doorway. "How goes the potion-making, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Quite well, sir," he said proudly. "I've already bottled five and I'm preparing to begin the next five."

"May I?" Dumbledore gestured toward the cabinet.

"Of course, sir." Draco opened the cabinet and showed him.

Dumbledore read the labels and nodded appreciatively. "You did all of these already?"

"They were the hardest so I thought I'd get a jump on them first, in case…well. In case I needed to start again."

"Good. Good."

"If I may ask, sir, what does the potions master want with these particular potions? I don't remember brewing most of these in classes and they aren't on the curriculum even for seventh years." Draco felt his face grow warm. He hadn't taken his seventh year being too busy trying to destroy the Wizarding world with Voldemort's minions.

"I haven't the faintest idea, Mr. Malfoy. But I have confidence they will be put to a good use."

"Good use? Skin disintegrating potion?"

Dumbledore shrugged. He cast a glance to the rest of the room and to the cauldrons and nearby plants. "Ah! You're using plants to test them. Very clever. Much nicer than small animals or even insects. I do hate to hurt animal life. Was this your idea?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent." He swept toward the door. "Well I see you have everything well in hand, Draco. I won't disturb you further. Ah…here comes Harry. It must be lunch time. Don't wander too far, you two."

Draco was about to ask what that meant when Harry came around the corner. "Hi, Professor," he said to Dumbledore who nodded to him and wandered away. He turned to Draco. "Everything all right? Ready to eat?"

They had their lunch and took their usual walk around the lake. It was a particularly sunny day and the warm grass sent a friendly aroma into the air. Harry sought the shade of a tree and sat down against it. Draco sat beside him and he listened to Harry talk excitedly about his plans for the coming year. He talked himself out and fell silent. Draco watched the water ripple on the lake. It was an inviting sight in the heat of the day…except for the giant squid, the grindylows and the merpeople that inhabited it. No swimming today.

He heard a soft snore and looked at Harry slumped against the tree, sound asleep. Draco shook his head and scooted up to the tree's trunk and leaned against it beside him. There he sleeps. He trusts me that much. That I won't murder him as he naps. In another lifetime I might have. Minx Mercer's face suddenly rose in his thoughts. He talked of killing Harry and of a gathering of other Death Eaters. Draco wondered how many there were or if Mercer was lying. But somehow, with a sinking feeling, he didn't think he was lying. He looked at Harry sleeping so peacefully. Was he in danger? Should he tell him? Draco shook his head. No, the Death Eaters were his problem. If it ever came up again-which he doubted-he'd take care of it.

Harry slept on and Draco wondered how long he should let him sleep. He looked at Harry's peaceful face. It was amazing that Voldemort's scar was almost gone. Draco was glad of it. At least Harry wouldn't be marked with Voldemort anymore. Draco rubbed his arm over his sleeve. Harry didn't deserve to be marked like that.

Harry's dark hair lay across his forehead and without thinking, Draco reached over and lightly smoothed it back with his fingertips, revealing the fading scar.

Harry's green eyes fluttered open and Draco, looking right at them, suddenly caught his breath. "Leaf," he offered as an excuse, but why did he need an excuse? He shot to his feet and brushed the grass off his trousers.

Harry stretched and rose lazily. "How long was I asleep?"

"Not long. Maybe you should get your blood sugar checked."

"Naw. I just like sleeping. Especially out in the sun. And it is summer, Malfoy. Didn't you ever spend time outside in the summer just being lazy?"

"No," he answered before he had time to think about it. But now that he did he realized he had been denied some of the simple pleasures of other boys. His father certainly wouldn't have allowed him to be idle in the summer. He was always taking flying lessons or brewing potions or working on spells and hexes. He shrugged when Harry looked at him quizzically. He didn't want to explain it.

"You're right," said Harry, answering a question that hadn't been asked. "It is time to get back, I suppose." He yawned again. "Summer will be over in two weeks and Hogwarts will be full of students again."

"Yes." Draco walked back with Harry, his mind working on many things, but mostly his immediate future. "Harry, what's going to happen to me once September comes?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean-" He stopped and Harry did too. "I was only supposed to work here for the summer. I haven't got another job. I haven't even found another flat. Should I…should I start looking for…you know. A job?"

Harry's concentrated stare was a little disconcerting. He didn't realize how intimidating those green eyes could be. "What do you want to do?"

"Dammit, Potter! Do I have to spell it out?" hissed Draco, exasperated. "Can I have a job here?"

Harry scratched his head. "That's up to Dumbledore. You should ask him."

Draco knew it would sound infantile if he asked Harry to ask the Headmaster for him, and so he said nothing. Yes, he supposed he would have to ask the old wizard himself.

But what if he said 'no'?

Harry returned to his study and Draco returned to his dungeon. Draco stared at the ingredients he'd laid out earlier and scowled. Of course there was no place for him here at Hogwarts. Hadn't he given up that right? There was little point in asking Dumbledore, no point in having to endure his face when he told Draco that there was nothing for him. It was a summer job and that was all.

He glared at the ingredients, bottles, pots, silver knife and wooden block, measuring beakers, all laid out in a row. The old Draco would have cast them all aside, making a shambles of the room. The new Draco fought a mighty battle with the old one. He dearly wanted to vent his frustration in just that way.

He swore instead. Loudly. He was glad to be alone.

After he calmed himself, he set about to prepare the next potions on his list. If this was his last task for Hogwarts then at least he'd go out in style and brew the best damn potions this dungeon had ever seen.

* * *

Harry was worried about Draco. He spent every free moment in the potions dungeon, wouldn't take walks with him after lunch anymore, always rushing back to the dungeons to brew his damned potions. This is ridiculous. I'm jealous of potions. He wasn't kidding anyone. He enjoyed his time with Draco. More than enjoyed them. Valued them. Needed them. He could have kicked himself for being a fool, but he was falling in love with Draco all over again and the whole thing was maddeningly frustrating. Thinking of him half-naked on his sofa night after night was driving him crazy. And there wasn't even anything about Draco he could complain about. He was the perfect houseguest: clean, polite…he cooked, he kept the place tidy…and he was gorgeous. Harry called himself an idiot ten times an hour for allowing this to happen. Every time he saw Hermione she gave him that look. She was the only one who seemed to know what was happening without Harry ever having to say a word. Girls! What was it about them? They must be natural Legilimens. They always knew what you were thinking.

Harry put the finishing touches on his apartment at Hogwarts and felt saddened that Draco wasn't there to share it. The summer was drawing to a close and soon it would be the new term and Harry worried just as much about Draco's future as Draco did. Harry told him repeatedly that he could stay at his flat. The thought of Draco there while Harry was at Hogwarts gave Harry a little comfort. He could always visit him on weekends. No, that was ridiculous! What did Draco need with Harry in his personal life? Once he was straightened out, surely Draco would be on his way. Another career, a new girlfriend, a new life. At least Harry would have helped to get him started. But Harry would be alone again. And lovesick. Damn.

He needed to help Draco find something other than a tea shop job. Perhaps he could look into law studies in some Wizarding institution. Surely with Dumbledore's recommendation, he could get in. Harry could sponsor him. He had enough money. If only Draco would take it.

Harry threw himself into the huge four-poster and lay spread eagle on the mattress. He stared up into the embroidered canopy and sighed. Certainly this bed was big enough for two. He raised his head and looked at the far away edge. Or more. Too bad the other one wouldn't be Draco. "Draco, Draco," he whispered.

"Someone call?"

Harry shot up, his face reddening. Draco poked his head in the doorway and smiled.

"Really, Potter. Sighing my name while you're in bed?"

"I do it all the time," he said lightly, trying to recover. But he couldn't think of anything clever to add. "I'm worried about you."

"Yeah. You and me both."

He slid off the edge of the bed and stood up, trying to distance himself as much as he could from the giant four-poster. "Have you finished your potions?" Your bloody potions that take you away from spending time with me?

"Yes. I was on my way to tell Dumbledore. And…to ask him for a job."

"Really? What sort of job?"

"I don't know. I don't care. Any job. Hell, I'd even be a house elf if only I could qualify."

"Nope. Too tall."

"I was afraid of that. Do you think there's anything-?"

"I don't know. I hope so. For your sake."

"And yours too, you incurable ponce. What would you do without 'Draco, Draco' hanging about."

"Oh shut up!"

"No, really, Harry. Thanks for all you've done. Even if Dumbledore doesn't have anything for me, I appreciate everything." He lifted his borrowed wand and gazed at it. "This was really special. If you hadn't walked into that tea shop and got me sacked, I don't know where I'd be."

"Anytime, Draco."

"So…I'm off to meet Dumbledore. Keep your fingers crossed."

"Consider them crossed." He smiled. Draco tried to smile back but Harry could tell he was very nervous. He wished there was something he could do, but he knew Draco's fate was in Dumbledore's hands now.


On to Chapter Eight
"Wizard's Chess"

Back to Chapter Six
"Murky Cauldrons"

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