This certainly wasn't like any summer Draco had ever had. He was used to spending his holidays in Wiltshire, surrounded by luxury, lazing about in a bedroom easily the size of Severus' entire quarters. To still be sharing a room, even during the holidays, was a bit much. The fact that they were still in the castle hardly mattered; he'd be sharing with Harry even after they went to Devon!

Then again, it was a bit nice to have a brother to do things with. Holidays for Draco had most often been lonely times, with only tutors and elves around, except during each night's rather formal dinner. True, he'd had a private Quidditch pitch all to himself, but one-on-none Quidditch just wasn't that much fun. Now he could test his skills against Harry, who really was quite a good Seeker.

Not better than Draco, of course.

But good, yes. Very good. Even with a Firebolt XL under him, Draco had to struggle to get to the Snitch first. And oh, how that was worth it! The look on Harry's face whenever Draco bested him!

Sometimes it was Harry who won their impromptu matches. But that was all right. Those losses made Draco try all the harder the next time they played. He could feel his skills being stretched and sharpened every time he and Harry took to the pitch.

His final Quidditch season at Hogwarts was really going to be something . . . but only if Harry decided to play for Gryffindor once more. The Weasley girl wouldn't present nearly as much of a challenge.

And Draco was looking forward to the challenge of taking Harry on again, in front of the whole school, and this time, winning.

Not that Quidditch completely filled their days. Harry spent every morning helping Severus and Lucinda in the lab. He chopped and minced and diced and puréed whatever Severus said, and because Draco had nothing else to do, he'd got in the habit of helping out as well. Actually, he'd pretty much had to. The whole idea was to assist Severus and Lucinda to improve the Wolfsbane potion. Harry was involved out of concern for his werewolf friend. Severus didn't even really need the assistance, but he knew how much Harry wanted to help.

Draco's motive was just as laudable. Oh, not that he cared about Lupin overly much. He did care, however, about his mother. And at the moment, Lupin's continued safety in his masquerade was important for Narcissa. If the Dark Lord should ever find out about Lupin's double life, Narcissa would come in for her share of blame. And torture, no doubt. No matter that she hadn't known a thing.

So, it was best to keep Lupin's true nature as submerged as they could. It was best that everyone, Narcissa included, believe him to be Lucius. Draco tried hard not to think too much about everything that might mean, but sometimes at night, he couldn't stop himself from running scenarios in his mind. His mother expected a kiss now and again, he knew. He'd seen her lift her hand expectantly to his father, and more rarely, her lips.

Did Lupin follow through on her suggestion?

Draco would shudder in his bed when he thought about it. Lupin would have to, right? It was part of the masquerade. But awful, so awful. Draco didn't want his mother being touched, not even casually, by a half-human creature like a werewolf.

He knew better than to say such things out loud, though. Harry was all right most of the time, but nothing raised his hackles faster than Draco's so-called racism.

Racism, honestly! It wasn't. It wasn't anything of the sort. Draco was just sensible, that was all. Who would want their mother hanging about with a rabid creature who carried a dreadful communicative disease? Not him, that was for certain. But the Wolfsbane potion helped keep the worst traits of the werewolf at bay, so Draco chopped and minced and diced right alongside Harry, all the while keeping his dire thoughts to himself.

Well, almost all the while. He did have limits.

Severus seemed to understand that. Harry had clearly intended to work all day, every day, on the Wolfsbane experiments, and Draco would have done likewise, just to keep up with how things were going, but Severus had put an end to that idea. He'd insisted that he and Lucinda needed to work on their own in the afternoons.

On their own. Now there was a joke. The headmaster kept dropping by on the most daft, transparent excuses Draco had ever heard. The man was sweet on Lucinda; it was clear as day. Draco didn't say anything about it, though, not even in jest. It was one thing to tease Severus a bit about Marsha. As annoyed as Severus might get, he'd never really hold it against Draco.

Draco wasn't so sure about the headmaster. Best to tread carefully there. Draco felt like he was almost at Hogwarts on sufferance, after the way he'd been cast out of classes and then expelled. He'd been reinstated, yes, and most of the time he felt welcome. All those points to Slytherin had helped. But still, he wasn't really comfortable enough to take liberties.

Not like Harry did. He talked to the headmaster like the two of them were old friends, sometimes. And Draco just couldn't see himself ever doing that. Draco would never admit it to anyone--though Severus probably knew--but Dumbledore frightened him a little.

So, mornings for the Wolfsbane and afternoons for Quidditch. Evenings though, most often found Draco and Harry continuing their explorations of the castle. It had more mazelike corridors and dusty nooks and crannies than Draco would have guessed, but of course the Marauder's Map was very helpful in helping them know where they'd explored and where they hadn't.

If Harry would look at it more often, that was.

"We've been in that room before," said Draco, sighing a bit. "Before term ended, even. Don't you remember? We talked about your problem. You aren't still . . . er, sticking yourself, are you? I mean, Severus really did defend you in spectacular fashion. That must have helped you feel better, eh?"

Harry leaned his palm on the storeroom door. "Aran was never the real problem, though. Well, not the cause of that problem, anyhow. Marsha's got me to realise that. Whatever anyone may have said or done to me, the idea to, uh . . . do that to myself, came from me."

Yeah, Marsha was big on the idea that problems came from the inside. Solutions, too. She never let Draco get away with blaming other people for the things he'd done. It was actually pretty frustrating. "You didn't answer my question."

Harry gave Draco what seemed like a wry look. "When would I be sticking myself? Between you and Dad, I seem never to be alone."

Oh. Harry had caught on to Draco's grand plan, then. Not that it was all that grand. Draco lifted his chin a little. "As far as I know, you're alone in the loo." He quirked a grin. "Or maybe you're not. Something you're not telling me?"

"Oh, don't be a prat." Harry rolled his eyes.

Draco refused to let himself get distracted. "You still didn't answer my question. Have you transfigured anything into a needle since term ended?"

Harry's features hardened, which was answer enough for Draco. Harry was still struggling with his problem. Which was probably only to be expected . . . Marsha had lectured Draco about not expecting too much, too soon. But Draco still felt disturbed. "I hope you went to Severus about it," he said quietly. "As soon as you . . . er, came to your senses."

"It was just the once," muttered Harry. "I just . . . look, it doesn't . . . oh, hell. Yes, I did go and talk to Dad about it, all right? He wasn't too happy."

Neither was Draco, but he didn't say so. Marsha had told him that Harry didn't need two fathers. What he needed from Draco, she'd said, was acceptance. Which made a lot of sense, considering how Harry had been treated by his Muggle family. "That's rough."

Harry pursed his lips. "I bet Dad wished he could take away my fingers the way he took away your wand that time."

Draco hadn't thought of that. Denying Harry his magic wasn't really an option, in the circumstances. Severus probably found that pretty frustrating.

Just one more way that Harry stands out, thought Draco. He'd like to be able to do wandless magic. But nobody their age could do such a thing. Nobody except Harry Potter, and he only a half-blood.

Draco sighed.

"Look, I'll try harder not to do it again," said Harry, meaning the needles, not wandless magic. Draco just nodded. "Anyway, enough of that. When we were in here before, I noticed something and wondered about it. Um . . . how's your Latin?"

Draco grinned. Sometimes, he just couldn't pass up a chance to needle Harry. Though perhaps that wasn't the best way to put it. "It's proper Latin, not that church bastardization Muggles started using."

Sure enough, Harry rose to the bait. "Look, Muggle's not an synonym for awful, you know. I thought you and Marsha were working on tolerance--"

"We are," drawled Draco. "Doesn't mean I lack all sense of standards."

Harry made a rude gesture and shoved the door open. "Come in here with me, then. There's something I've been meaning to take a closer look at."

Draco couldn't imagine what. The storeroom had just been filled with old broken desks and the like. He couldn't imagine why Hogwarts would keep such things around. Evanesco or Reparo would take care of the lot. But then again, Filch was a squib. That likely explained the matter.

Though it was still a good question why on earth Hogwarts would employ a squib. Not much use, was he?

Harry pushed past the furniture and pointed at the back corner. "Just like the Mirror of Erised. Well, maybe. I noticed before that it was decorated, but I didn't have time to ask you about it. Can you read what that inscription says?"

Draco gave his brother a superior look. "Can Severus brew?"

Drawing his wand, Draco cast a thorough Pulire to get rid of the dust coating the large mirror's frame, then read the inscription through, thinking about it. "Hmm. It's a bit poetic. Not sure I can recreate the cadence of it, really. Let alone the rhyme scheme."

"I don't care--"

"But I do," said Draco. "What did I just tell you about standards? So, let's see . . ." He paused for a long moment, rubbing his hands together as he worked out a translation. Dratted Latin and its flexible word order. Sometimes you could hardly tell what the original meant, though he was hardly going to admit that to Harry. "Ah. How about this? Herein converse with those of old, yet only those whose hearts you hold. Behold the wonder, yet beware. Beyond is timeless, there not here."

Harry drew close to the mirror and looked about to touch the surface, just as if he'd never heard of residual magic, let alone treating a new artefact with a bit of respect.

Draco put a hand on his arm and shook his head. "Too unpredictable."

"Yeah . . . " Harry glanced at him. "The poem. What does it mean?"

Draco shrugged. "I translated. Interpretation is a different matter completely. Offhand, I'd say it's a mirror designed to show people who have passed on."

Harry blinked. "Oh. Really? Then why is it only showing us?"

"Because it's broken, like the rest of the dross in here?"

"Maybe . . ." Harry suddenly pointed. "Wait, you move over there." He waited until Draco had backed away a few feet. "Huh. Just me, now. Still nothing . . . Er . . . why don't you try?"

"Why don't I not?" said Draco stiffly. "Only those whose hearts you hold, Harry?Like I'd want to see . . ."

"Oh. Sorry." Harry started chewing on his lip. Disgusting habit. Draco decided he'd better look up some sort of hex that would put an end to it. Something to make Harry's lips taste like bile, maybe. He could always lift it again when Harry got a girlfriend.

"You're thinking of Lucius?" asked Harry in a tentative voice.

"Pansy."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess you wouldn't want to talk to her again."

"Not unless I get to reach into the mirror and strangle her." Draco shrugged, then. "Hmm, probably no danger I'll see her, then. I mean, if you only see people you love. All right, I'll try it."

He stepped in front of the mirror and stared into it as Harry moved off to the side.

Then, because it was really more than he could resist, he suddenly gasped and lifted a hand to his heart. "Oh, my. Isn't that quite the sight . . ."

"What, what?"

"The best looking young man Hogwarts has seen in lo these many days," said Draco, imitating the headmaster's turn of speech. "Record-breaking Slytherin Seeker! Winner of not fifty, not a hundred, but a hundred and fifty points to Slytherin. A change of decoration is in order--"

"Oh, shut it," said Harry, glowering. Then he seemed to backtrack a bit. "Look, I'm as happy about that as you are, but if this mirror does really show the . . . er, dearly departed, then I want to get it working." He cleared his throat, his eyes a glinting green even in the dimly lit room as he turned to stare at Draco. "I want to talk to them, you see? Really talk, even if it's only the once and I can never see them again."

"Them?"

Harry turned his face away, his throat convulsing as he answered. "Yeah, them. My parents."