A Year Like None Other

"I understand about Samhain," Harry finally answered. "You were fifteen and an idiot."

"I'm sixteen, just like you," Draco stressed.

"It's a saying, all right? It means... Your behavior was disgraceful and you really should have known better, but you needed to grow up more before you could."

Draco nodded but his silver eyes remained uncertain. When Harry tried to look more fully into them, the Slytherin boy actually shied away. "What?" Harry pressed. "Come on. You can't start holding back now, not when we're finally getting the air cleared! Draco?"

"It's nothing," the Slytherin boy muttered, looking away as his cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Worse, it's completely stupid."

"I don't care," Harry stressed. "After everything else we've discussed, how bad could it be?"

"It's not bad, it's just... kind of personal."

"What?" Harry pressed, but Draco pressed his lips together and gave a small shake of his head. Determined to make the other boy open up, Harry tossed out the most outrageous suggestion he could dream up on the spur of the moment. "You secretly love Hermione?"

For an instant, Draco looked a bit as though he'd just swallowed his own tongue. "Perish the thought," he drawled, that familiar aristocratic light creeping back into his eyes. "Credit me with a little taste."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Just as well he'd mentioned Hermione, since Draco's obsession over pure blood was another thing that needed clearing up. "There is nothing wrong with Muggleborns, Draco. You can't think you're on my side if you're still going to believe Voldemort's bigoted propaganda. My mother was a Muggleborn."

"Yes, yes, and some of your best friends are Muggleborns. Literally." Draco paused, clearly thinking. "Look, I may not have it all figured out, but I'd be pretty stupid if it hadn't dawned on me that supporting you means I can't believe blood to be everything. You're the vanguard and you're only a half-blood yourself!"

"The fact that you even notice things like that is what bothers me," Harry retorted.

Draco squared his shoulders. "I can't help categorizing wizards. It's something I learned to do as a child, same as you learned to chew your own lip when you're feeling worried."

Harry's voice was dry. "It's hardly the same sort of thing."

"No," Draco admitted. "But just answer me this. Have I said one word against Muggleborns since I gave you your wand?"

"You sure have! You called Hermione a cow!"

"Not because of her parentage! That was because she was being one, bleating all over the place about how Hermione-knows-best!"

"It's sheep who bleat."

"Well, forgive me for not being a farmer!" Draco shouted.

The wisecrack somehow broke the tension. Harry felt his lips quirking into a grin, and it only got worse when a nervous laugh bubbled up Draco's throat.  "What do you still need to tell me?" Harry pressed a moment later. "Whatever it is, Draco, it'll be all right. I promise."

"It's stupid like I said," Draco muttered. "But it's been on my mind some, and it's one more reason I just couldn't stand the thought that you might figure out Samhain on your own. Of course, I didn't know Severus was going to sneak the truth in by means of his dratted potion, did I--"

"Draco, just tell me!"

Inexplicably, the other boy blushed a deep crimson. "Er... well, it's just that since I was there on Samhain, you know... I, er..." his voice dropped to a whisper. "Saw you naked."

"So?"

"So, I thought you might be embarrassed. Just so you know, I tried not to look, all right? I certainly didn't want to see... er, that. No offense."

"Oh, none taken," Harry murmured, raising a hand to his mouth in a vain effort to quell his humor. He finally had to bite the side of a finger before he could get control of himself. It really hurt; his hands were still sore from the not-so-wild-magic he had performed. "Draco, be serious. By the time the Death Eaters stripped my clothes off, I had needles sticking out of me all over at bizarre angles. I had much bigger problems on my mind than who might see what!"

To Draco's credit, he didn't even smirk. "Right," he agreed. "I halfway knew that, but... well, sometimes people can get awfully strange about things like that. And with you Muggle-raised, I honestly didn't know how you might react. Are we...." He fortified himself with a breath. "Can you still stand me, then? Even with what you know about Samhain?"

"What have I been saying for the last little bit?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "Of course I can. I'd have trusted you a lot sooner if I'd known all this. I kept thinking you seemed so changed, but that it must be an act because nothing you'd told me could explain what had changed you."

Draco made a face. "Severus said that was the problem. In fact he said, and I quote, I know Harry Potter quite well these days, and I do assure you, Draco, he is not so mean-spirited as to resent you for past errors in judgment which you have since rectified." Harry couldn't help but smile at that. It felt nice to know that Snape had had such faith in him. He was really glad he hadn't disappointed the man this time.

Draco acknowledged Harry's smile with a slight one of his own. "Anyway, he kept urging me to tell you the truth. But I couldn't. I was so sure it would ruin everything. I guess... he knew you a lot better than I did."

"You owe him a big apology," Harry sternly told the Slytherin boy. "Personally, I think after the way you acted last night, you should have to cook the three of us some.... uh, gigot d'agneau ‡ la provisoir."

"¿ la provenÁale," Draco dryly corrected. "The other sounds like leg of lamb cooked temporary-style. I don't want to know how that would come out."

"Some of us didn't learn French in the cradle."

"Obviously. And some of us didn't learn to cook, full stop. I believe I told you wizards had much better things to do?"

"Not out here, we don't," Harry argued. "Why should Snape have to do all the work? I say you and I should cook him Christmas dinner. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Draco slanted him a glance that clearly announced that no, nice wasn't a word that even remotely applied. "Christmas will be a great deal more enjoyable if the meal is edible," he lightly scathed.

"Oh ye of little faith," Harry murmured, and when Draco looked confused, added, "Muggle saying. I... hmm, not sure if I should mention this, but I think I'll go out on a limb. I want you to apologize to Hermione, too. For the cow comment."

"Sure, I'll just tell her it was really sheep I meant."

Harry glared. "No."

"I'll apologize to her the minute she admits that she was wrong," Draco compromised. Of course, his heart wasn't really in it, since in the next moment he was qualifying that with, "And since we know that Granger never ever thinks she's wrong about anything?" He favored Harry with a smug, self-satisfied smile.

"She is wrong, though," Harry agreed. "Snape's turning out to be pretty good at this father business."

"Then why do you keep calling him sir?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "Unless it's because... well, I lost my real father before I could even talk, so I obviously didn't call him anything. And since Uncle Vernon was never remotely like a dad to me, I just don't have any uh... experience.  Everything I can think of to call him just seems... clumsy."

Draco was frowning by the time Harry finished. "Don't mention in front of Severus that he's not your 'real father,' Harry."

"I meant real as in bloodline, not real as in real, and you know it!"