As Harry followed Sirius up the stairs, he looked behind him and was thrilled that Draco was not following him. He would no longer need to, and Harry was joyfully readjusting to privacy.

Sirius saw his smile and chuckled. “I can’t imagine being stuck to someone I detested for so long. I’d go crazy. You suffered it very well, Harry.”

Harry let himself beam. His face warm with enjoyment.

“Thanks, Sirius. I thought I would go bonkers at times,” Harry admitted. Sirius nodded and glanced back down the stairs as if he could see the Malfoys.

“I can believe that,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand them, and I’m glad of it.”

Harry laughed and they entered the room with the Black family tapestry. Harry walked over to it as Sirius headed for a table with as few books stacked on it.

“I found these the other day, before you were kidnapped. I had planned to send them to you, but this will work as well,” Sirius said with a smile.

Harry took the books curiously. “What are they?”

“There called books,” Sirius said slowly. Harry rolled his eyes as Sirius chuckled.

“I meant why give them to me?” Harry asked impatiently.

Sirius shrugged. “There books on Defense Against the Dark Arts. I thought you could use them for your group.”

Harry looked at the books with new interest. “Thanks Sirius. You sure you don’t need them here?”

Sirius waved away the thanks and leaned forward. “Your dad actually gave me that black one there. I’m afraid it’s got a lot of notes in from both me and him. It’s still usable though, just well used.”

Harry put the rest of the books to the side. He didn’t miss Sirius’s small smile, and Harry opened the book looking for his father’s notes.

He could tell Sirius’s writing immediately. A surge of surprise and delight made Harry grin as he saw that his father’s writing was a lot like his own, maybe a tad bit messier. Something else he noticed, was that his father wrote in all capitals.

Harry turned the page. It seemed this book had gone through many boring history lessons. Sirius and James used the side of the pages for conversations. Hermione would have a fit if she saw, Harry thought.

“I’m pretty sure these books don’t mention any dark magic,” Sirius said. “I looked them over pretty well.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks Sirius, I’ll enjoy these.” Sirius went over to the old tapestry with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Since the Malfoys have switched sides, I’m betting…” Sirius trailed off. A laugh rumbled up from his chest, and a grin spread across his face.

“What?”

Harry came closer and saw three burn marks where the Malfoy’s names had previously been. “I bet Kreacher did that,” Sirius said with a smirk.

“Is he very aware of what goes on in the Order?” Harry asked. Sirius frowned and nodded.

“Unfortunately,” he grunted before turning away. Harry frowned and watched as Sirius left. With a shrug, he retreated to his bedroom he was sharing with Ron and Draco. Maybe he could learn some new spells before he was called down to lunch.

……………………………….

After only a few hours with the books, Harry had already learned many new spells, and had a few lessons planned. He was ready to go back to school.

Harry bit his lip and went to find something to eat. On his way down to the main floor, Harry heard some voices talking and paused shortly.

“--realize what you have done! Running to Dumbledore? Of all the wizards why him? He’ll use us for his own needs, just like he does with the rest of his bloody Order and Harry bloody Potter!”

That’s Draco’s voice, Harry realized.

“Draco, this is not the way a Malfoy acts under pressure--” Narcissa tried to say, her voice exasperated but kind.

“Malfoys don’t burn down powerful wizards’ libraries either,” Draco said with a snort.

Harry could hear Lucius speaking, but had to move closer to hear the exact words.

“--selfish, switching sides is a decision that had to be made. The Order helped me save you from the Dark Lord. He was going to kill you Draco--I knew he was powerful, that was the main reason I followed him, but he cared nothing for your life.”

Lucius paused, Draco was quiet now. Probably sulking from being scolded, and rightfully so. Harry knew the Malfoys were more than uncomfortable in their new environment, but they had not wanted it. It had been more or less forced on them by Draco coming so close to death.

“You are my only heir. I will not see the Malfoy name die along with you. Change happens; this is one of those times. Now, stop being a brat and face the challenge that life has handed to you. We shall only be here a few more days. Black has told me, although grudgingly, that the library is open to you so you can study. I suggest you take the chance.”

There was a mumbled answer. Harry hurried out of the way and down the steps as the door opened.

At the bottom floor, Harry looked up in surprise. As if, he had not expected Draco to descend after him.

Draco didn’t speak, but pushed past Harry with a glare and headed toward the library.

Harry glared after him, and hurried on his way to the kitchen. He found it empty, but a note lay on the table in Ron’s messy handwriting.

It seemed Ron didn’t care if one of the Malfoys read the short message or not. He had left it out in the open.

Harry sighed to himself and went to the cabinet for something to eat.

………………………………..

Twenty minutes later, Harry turned away from the stove to see Draco in the doorway. His gray eyes surveyed the mess Harry had made in the process of fixing his lunch. Since Draco didn’t seem inclined to speak, Harry filled the silence.

“Hungry?” he asked. Harry’s voice was bright and cheerful. Draco frowned at him.

“Depends on what it is. If you’ve managed to ruin perfectly good food, and turn it into some Muggle dish, I’m not interested.” Draco stood in the doorway and crossed his arms stubbornly.

No doubt, he was waiting for the words that would make him sneer in distaste. Then he could turn and exit the room leaving Harry to wonder at him, but that didn’t happen.

“It’s spaghetti,” Harry said as he turned the sauce down to low. While he did not understand the differences between Muggle dishes and the kind of food Draco ate, he was sure that everyone must have had spaghetti at least once.

From the way Draco came closer to the stove; Harry was positive that his assumption was correct.

“I don’t like hunks of meat. If you insist on acting like a house elf; make sure you cook the meat right,” Draco said as he peered into the saucepot.

Harry nodded. “Giant meatballs, gotcha.”

Draco glared and moved away with a sound of annoyance. Expecting the sound of the kitchen door slamming, Harry was surprised when Draco stopped and turned around.

“Do--you need some help?”

At any other time, Harry would be laughing at how Draco seemed to choke on his sentence, but offers to help were rare when it came to Draco.

“You can set the table, if that’s all right,” Harry said. It sounded more like a question, but Draco accepted it.

“Where would one find the plates and silverware?”

Harry told Draco where the plates were, and then went on a hunt for the silverware. This was the first time Harry had worked in this kitchen. Usually Mrs. Weasley was around to do the cooking. Not that he minded too much. It was nice to know he did not need to rely on someone else to feed him.

Draco set the table with a careful eye. Harry was just glad he seemed happy with one fork, and the old napkins.

Harry didn’t bother looking for Sirius. The man had seemed moody, Harry decided he would put some up for his Godfather when they were done.

Feeling pleased with his efforts, Harry turned the heat down on the stove and started preparing plates.

………………………………..

An offer to help never came from Draco, and Harry put the leftovers up himself. The Slytherin placed his napkin on the table and then retreated to the library.

The mild scolding Draco received from his father still seemed to be on his mind. Harry had tried twice at a light conversation; no response came from Draco in the form of words.

Harry gave up and went up to his bedroom. Professor McGonagall had been nice enough to bring Harry his truck, so he took advantage of that and dug through it for his old Defense books and got the ones Sirius had just given him.

The kidnapping might not have happened if he had been more able to defend himself. Since he was not comfortable with the idea of physically working to defend himself, he decided to study spells he could practice for when he was back at Hogwarts.

It was amazing how little he knew. So much, he had not known before. To think of all the times he could have used these spells he was reading about, and how much they would have helped him, made Harry feel sick. His lack of knowledge could have got him killed.

A lot of it could be blamed on the DADA teachers. There as always something that happened. Because of that, Harry did not have the amount of understanding that he needed.

And if I don’t, no one else probably does either, Harry thought.

This thought motivated him and pushed him to read until dark. If no one else would step up to the task of teaching children and his friends how to defend themselves, he would do it instead.

Draco came in and did a double take at seeing Harry surrounded by books. Looking up, Harry caught Draco’s inquisitive expression, but remembering the unsaid refusal about talking at lunch, Harry ignored him.

He caught pale fingers close into fists. Draco’s irritation made Harry grin. Fortunately his expression was hidden by the thick book.

After a few uncomfortable movements, Harry looked up. He suddenly felt like he had been reading all day. Well, he had been reading all day. So Harry stood up from where he had been sitting Indian-style on the bed.

A glance toward the window showed that it was dark outside. Not feeling hungry, Harry decided to get ready for bed. Tomorrow afternoon he was supposed to go back to Hogwarts. If he got up early tomorrow morning, then he could pack his trunk and still have time to read some more.

While Harry was collecting his clothes, Draco came over to his bed and started thumbing through the books.

“Why do you have so many on defense?” Draco asked.

Harry stapped searching for his socks. “Er, just--trying to get better at it. Work out any wrinkles, learn some more.”

The silence made Harry look up; Draco was looking at him with disbelief. “What?” Harry asked defensively. The attention Harry had received in the past was never because of anything good. He warily wondered why Draco wold be surprised to see him studying. Did he think Hermione did all the work? Or that Harry wasn’t able to do it himself?

“You’re good at Defense; it surprises me that you would study so hard on it when there are other subjects that could use your concentration. Potions, for example,” Draco said with a one armed shrug.

He never looked up from one of the books Sirius had given Harry.

Harry bristled. “Sirius happened to give me some of these books today. I wanted to see how much more advanced they were from my schoolbooks.”

“You’ve been in here for a long time. It seemed like you were sulking--”

“Well I wasn’t!” Harry snapped. He scowled at Draco, and at his own loss of patience with the Slytherin.

To further fuel Harry’s fiery temper, Draco smiled slowly. Harry knew what the blond was doing; he had been in numerous situations where Dudley put him in the exact same position.

So, why did he just have to throw a punch at the smirking face? Because at that moment, it was the only way Harry thought he could wipe the look of Draco’s face. Ducking, Draco laughed at Harry--and then his foot hit Harry’s knee. The sudden attack came complete with sound effects unhappily provided by Harry.

“Ohh,” he moaned as he suddenly found himself on the floor.

His anger was forgotten, and the pain in his knee; which he clutched to his chest, was the first thing on his mind.

The Death Eaters had liked cursing his limbs particularly.

Phantom pains of numerous Crucio’s made Harry’s limbs spasm. He bit his lip to fight back the blush of embarrassment as he glimpsed Draco standing just outside his vision.

A softly placed hand descended on Harry’s shivering shoulder. “Are you okay? Should I get Pomfrey?”

Draco’s nervous voice made Harry feel silly. It was just a little pain, nothing like what he had suffered not even two days ago. He was reacting from memories more than he did from when he was tortured!

Harry pushed himself up with an expression of self-disgust covering his face.

Draco peered at him. “If you’re going to go tattle to your doggy dearest, know that I only kicked you in self defense. You tried to punch me first. It’s not my fault you reacted the way you did.”

Harry gaped at him and resisted the humongous urge to lunge at him, make him beg for forgivness-- Harry quickly stopped himself from thinking along that line any longer with a firm shake of his head.

“You’re not worth my time, Dr--Malfoy. You always make excuses. For someone as dignified, and old as your family is, you really have bad manners!”

With another firm nod, Harry turned with his head held high and exited the room.

It was only after he had slammed the door to the bedroom, that he realized his nightclothes were in his arms. Instead of leaving them in his bedroom, he had brought them with him.

His freezing feet informed him he had left his socks in the room as well. Sighing, Harry headed downstairs. Even though he didn’t think it was necessary, his excuse for coming downstairs would be to tell Sirius good night. And if his godfather could not be found, he would fetch a glass of water.

He found Sirius in the kitchen eating the leftovers. Harry grinned as Sirius looked up from the bowl of spaghetti. “Enjoying yourself there?”

Sirius nodded and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, something he would have never done in Mrs. Weasleys prensence.

“I was starving,” Sirius said with a grateful look at his almost empty bowl.

Harry laughed. “I can see that,” he said, glancing at the bowl.

“You know who cooked it?” Sirius asked. “I thought Malfoy’s wife may have, but its uncomfortable enough being in the same room with them. Imagine me trying to make conversation!”

Sirius put on a wide-eyed expression that Harry had to laugh at, and his godfather winked at him happily. Harry was suddenly glad that he had left his and Draco’s room.

“Actually, I cooked it,” Harry said as he sat opposite of his grisly looking godfather.

Sirius blinked comically. “You? No way, you were dreaming kid. I told Pomfrey not to give you too many sleeping pills.”

“No, seriously. I cooked it. Draco helped set the table, ask him if you don’t believe me.”

Sirius finished the remaining noodles with a sad expression. “I believe you, but where did you learn that? Cooking was never one of your dad’s talents.”

Harry frowned lightly, “Well, maybe I got it from Mum. I am both of their kid,” he said with impatience.

Sirius ‘hm’ed’ a response. Harry forced himself to look away, lest he frown at his momentarily happy godfather.

“Plus, the Dursleys helped.”

Sirius looked up from the table. “How so?” he asked suspiciously.

Harry’s dislike for his only remaing blood relatives was common knowledge between those that knew him personally. The idea that any of them had taught him a life skill was skeptical. No wonder Sirius looked so wary.

Harry shrugged wishing he had not brought it up.

“I cooked for them sometimes, helped them with dinner…” Harry trailed off and stood up to get a glass of water for his suddenly dry throat.

He could hear the frown in Sirius voice. “Did you do this a lot?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied as he poured his water into a glass. “Not that I minded,” he said hastily. “It’s something I need to know. It came in handy today, for instance.”

Sirius made another noncommittal sound. Harry was getting really fed up with those sounds. They made him nervous.

With a quiet sigh, Harry excused himself to go to bed. Sirius stood up to give him a one armed hug, and then Harry ran up the stairs.

Draco was siting on his bed when he entered their room. “I’m sorry I kicked you, if I had known it would hurt you--well I probably wouldn’t have done it.”

Harry laughed and Draco tried for a hesitant half-smile that looked more like a frown.

“It’s okay--but if you try it again I’m sicking my dogfather on you after I beat you up myself.”

Draco winced and got in bed, “You fight dirty Ha--Potter, I’m impressed.”

Harry snicked as he quickly changed and got into bed as well. “Gee, thanks--I think.”

As he turned of the light, Draco asked teasingly, “Ever think of joining Slytherin? You might have some potental there.” He chuckled at his joke.

“I already changed the Sorting Hat’s mind once; if I tried to do it again they might throw me out!” Knowing this would catch the Slytherin by surprise, Harry grinned under his blanket, and waited for the explosion.

Draco yawned. “Yeah--what do you mean by that?”

Harry heard the sound of someone turning around hurriedly. “Potter? What did you mean? If you’re asleep--I’ll--transfigure you dear doggy into a poddle!”

Harry bit back a snort at the idea of Sirius transfigured into a pink poodle.

“I heard that, Potter! You’d better anwser me,” Draco growled from across the room.

Harry ignored the blond, and quickly fell asleep.