The halls were blissfully deserted.  The thud of his feet against the stone echoed down the hall of the dungeon.  For all of thirty seconds, Harry forgot that he wasn’t alone.  “Where are we going?”

Harry had to force himself not to sigh in agitation “The kitchens.”

“Why?”

“It’s my birthday.  I always go to the kitchens on my birthday.  You know that.”

Draco paused.  Was it really Harry’s birthday?  Whenever Draco’s birthday was approaching, he always made a large deal of telling his mother and his friends exactly what he wanted and he made sure that everyone knew it was coming.  Harry, on the other hand, had seemed perfectly content to ignore the event entirely until it was there.

Sighing, he looked at Harry, only to realise that he’d continued walking down the hall, leaving Draco standing there like an idiot.  “Hang on!”

Harry stopped long enough for him to catch up and as they walked, Draco bit his lip nervously, then realised what he was doing and stopped himself.  Biting ones lip was hardly dignified, after all.  Instead, he ground out what was on his mind. “What do you want?”

Harry looked affronted, “Excuse me?”

“For your birthday, stupid, what do you want for your birthday?”

“Oh.”  Harry frowned and slowed a little before shrugging, “I don’t know.  Anything really.”

“Do you want a lace dress?”

“A what?!”  He stopped outside the portrait of the fruit and stared at Draco as if he had grown two heads.

“A lace dress, in pink and white maybe.”

“Of course not!”

“Well, then, you don’t want anything.”

Harry scowled, but managed to take a deep breath and tickle the pear without saying what he really wanted to.  The portrait swung open and he was instantly enveloped in the familiar, comforting arms of Hagrid, as they tried to crush him, “’Appy Birthday, ‘Arry!”

Dumbledore was standing to the side, his beard twitching upward in a smile, “Good morning, Harry, I trust you had a pleasant trip?”

“Yes, Professor.”  Hagrid let him go and he brushed the wrinkled out of his robes.

The Headmaster took him in and Harry frowned, trying not to feel embarrassed, “It appears that Lady Malfoy has had her wicked way with you after all, hasn’t she?”  He bit out a smile and looked down at the brown trousers, “No need to fret, my boy, you look fine in them.  In fact, I daresay that we’ve been neglecting your wardrobe over the years.  I’ll have to remember to send her a letter of thanks.”

Harry didn’t think he looked fine, he thought he looked like a ponce.  Then, he remembered that he might very well be one, especially seeing as he’d spent the past two weeks lamenting that he’d been unable to do anything with Draco.  No, wait.  He hadn’t been lamenting it, he had been relieved.  Yes, because relieved felt like a giant whole in one’s stomach late at night that left you with the inexplicable need to touch yourself, despite knowing that you were being watched by portraits.  Very relieved, indeed.

“Have a seat, Harry, and tell me all about Malfoy Manor.”

Harry saw Draco’s face pinch for a moment, an expression he recognised as meaning that Draco wasn’t pleased with something, but he sat down next to Dumbledore and started talking, because he didn’t care if it made Malfoy uncomfortable, it was his first day back and it was his birthday.  If he wanted to talk about his two weeks in that gilded prison with the ice queen, he would.  At least, right up until the subject of Mr. Malfoy having come home a day early arose.

He’d started to say it, “Professor, the day before we came back…” Draco tensed next to him and foot kicked him in the shin.  “Ow.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “What was that, Harry?”

Harry looked over at Draco, but the other boy refused to look back, intent on staring into his mug of hot chocolate.  His face was mostly covered by a shank of blonde hair, but Harry could distinctly see his mouth.  Was Draco pouting?

“Harry?”

He looked back at Dumbledore, “Um... oh, sorry, I, um... well, that is to say, the day before we left I... fell off my broom and twisted my ankle.  It was bothering me a bit and I was wondering if...”

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say next, but Dumbledore interjected, “Say no more, my boy.  Due to the upcoming events,” he winked as he said it, “Madame Pomfrey agreed to return to work early.  She’ll be here first thing in the morning and I’ll have her take a look at it.”

Harry didn’t think for a moment that Dumbledore believed his story, not when he kept that one eyebrow precariously raised in question, but the Headmaster didn’t push and Harry wasn’t offering.  After a very crass round of singing and large pieces of dark chocolate cake, Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid wished him another happy birthday and left to go take care of things that they refused to tell Harry about.

They’d barely left the portrait hole when Harry rounded on Draco, “What was that for, anyway?”

Draco looked at him, feigning surprise, “What was what for?”

“Why did you kick me?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “You looked like you needed a good kicking.”

“That’s not why.”  Draco went back to staring at the table top and didn’t seem likely to answer, so Harry turned around and walked out.

Draco scowled.  Stupid Potter.  He knew very well why Draco had kicked him.  He’d been about to mention his father.  While the man had been very careful to avoid Harry while he was there, he had gone to some length to get time alone with Draco and he hadn’t wasted a moment of that time.  He had made it very clear that Draco was to keep his nose clean while he was there.  He was not to make trouble and he was to avoid any talk that might seem ‘suspicious’.  Not that Draco could be sure that Harry talking to Dumbledore was particularly suspicious, but just to be on the safe side.

Getting up, he looked through the portrait.  No sign of Harry.  With a humph, he stepped out and started to make his way back towards the dungeon.  He’d barely made it five feet when a funny noise caught his attention.  It sounded like someone breathing.  He looked around, but didn’t see anyone.

The noise was getting fainter and then suddenly, it stopped altogether.  Draco frowned, it wasn’t a ghost, ghosts didn’t breath and even if it had been Peeves playing a joke, he would have made a lot more ruckus than this.  Then again, Peeves wasn’t as prone to playing jokes during the summer when there were fewer people about.

It had to be Pot…  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.  Very soft, careful, footsteps, but footsteps and they were heading away from the dungeon.  Draco had a sudden flash of Harry’s bodiless head appearing in front of him near the Shrieking Shack last year and he seethed.  So, that was it.  Potter must have learned some kind of invisibility charm or… or he had an invisible cloak!

He nearly stomped on the floor.  It just would not be fair if Potter actually did have an invisible cloak.  The echo of footsteps started to fade and Draco quickly made up his mind.  He had to find out what it was that Potter had and if it was a cloak, he’d have to insist that Potter let him borrow it next year, because there was all sorts of mischief he could get into with it.

The only problem with following something invisible is that while you know you can’t see it, there’s no way to tell if it can see you.  So, Draco hid behind corners and crept forward only when the steps were so distant he almost couldn’t hear them.

After several flights of stairs, it became apparent that they were headed in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.  An ill feeling spread through Draco’s stomach as he remembered the Dementors from the previous year, but he forced it down.  He’d spent all year making damned sure that no one suspected he was worried about Potter, going so far as to dress up like a Dementor in a prank that ultimately backfired and got him attacked by a Patronus.  After all that hard work, he wasn’t about to admit anything to himself now.

Finally, he heard a door open.  Several seconds later, he looked around the corner and saw that it was indeed the Astronomy Tower.  What was Potter playing at?  Why would he come up here, of all places?

Creeping up to it, he peered around the doorframe and saw Harry appear out of thin air next to the railing, the invisible cloak shimmering silver as it was hastily folded and set next to the same ratty bag that Draco remembered from the year before.  Harry pulled out a pair of binoculars and sat on the ground, engrossed in whatever it was he was looking for.

Time for a little revenge.  With a wicked grin, Draco took off his shoes and slipped through the door.  Holding his breath, he snuck up to the cloak, pulling it on as slowly and silently as he could.

When he was sure that he was fully covered and that Harry truly hadn’t heard him, he backed up to the door and slammed it shut, watching in glee as Harry nearly dropped the binoculars in surprise.  Only Harry didn’t look spooked so much as panicked.

Harry set down his binoculars and ran for the now closed door, tugging frantically at the handle.  “Bugger!”  He tried to twist it and yanked at it again, “Bloody hell!”  Finally, he kicked the door and stood there panting.

Draco stood quietly.  Now did not seem like the best time to reveal himself.  In fact, perhaps he would just stay where he was until Harry had calmed down a...

“Malfoy!”  Harry was standing next to where his cloak had been, looking in all directions, “I know you’re here, Malfoy, and so help me, I will start flinging curses if you don’t show yourself now.”

Draco paled considerably, realising that he’d left his wand in their room.  If Potter did start flinging curses, he would have absolutely no way of defending himself.  Throwing off the cloak, he tossed it to Harry and watched as the other boy’s face began to darken with anger.

“Malfoy, what the hell were you thinking?”  When Draco didn’t answer, Harry closed his eyes and took several deep breathes.  “The door only opens from the other side, or don’t you remember my having told you that last year?”

“Maybe.”  Well, now that he actually thought about it, he did recall something, but he’d been too preoccupied at the time with the idea that they were spying on Dementors to really pay attention.  Harry, however, was not impressed with Draco’s answer.

“Maybe?  Draco, you twat!  Now we’re stuck here until someone decides to come looking for us.”

He was not a twat!  “It’s not all that bad, Potter, I’m sure someone will come in an hour or two.”

Harry threw the cloak down.  “No, they won’t, Malfoy.  Professor McGonagall may care enough about me to send a house elf to keep an eye, but Snape doesn’t and Snape won’t notice we’re gone until we don’t show up for dinner.”

Draco puffed up defensively, “He may not care about you, Potter, but he cares about me.  He’ll come looking if I don’t show for lunch.”

“No, he won’t, he’ll be relieved to have some damned peace and quiet for once and will assume that we’ve eaten in the kitchens, because we do it all the bloody time.”

Come to that.  They had skipped lunch before, without saying anything, and Snape had never remarked about it.  “Bugger.”

Harry practically fumed, “This is all your fault!”

Of all the nerve!  “My fault?  You were the one sneaking around the castle in an invisibility cloak.  Of course, I was going to follow you.”

“I was sneaking around because you’re a complete twat, Malfoy.”

“I am not a twat!”

“Yes, you are!  You spent the entire year making fun of me for fainting.”

“Well... if you didn’t want to be made fun of, you shouldn’t have fainted in the first place!”

“Of course, how could I have been so stupid.  It was all my fault for fainting.  Why can’t you just leave me alone?  You’re always trying to make me miserable.  Don’t you have anything better to do, or are you that hard up for a bloody life?”

“I have a life Potter, and this is not my fault, it’s your fault for always trying to show me up in Quidditch.  If you would stop being such a show off then I wouldn’t make fun of you!”

“I don’t think so, Malfoy.  I can’t help it if I’m a better seeker than you are, and you only joined the bloody team so you could prove that you were better than me!”

“I did not!  I joined because I wanted to, not because you were on it.”

“Then why are you so upset that I keep winning?”

“You’re always acting like you’re so much better than everyone.  Traipsing off around the castle and leaving me alone in the dungeon all summer.”

“Oh, you followed me plenty and I do not act like I’m better than everyone, I’m just better than you.”

“I bloody knew it, you do think you’re better.”

“At Quidditch and that’s about it, isn’t it?  And the only reason I went ‘traipsing’ anywhere was to get the hell away from your stuck up, pansy arse.”

Draco’s mouth opened and closed his mouth twice before he could get the words out of his mouth, “I only acted that way because you had to rub it in my face that my father beat me!”

“I was not rubbing it in your face, I was trying to help you.”

“If ‘help’ means that I have to watch you feel sorry for me I’d rather live with the pain.  If you had just accepted my apology in first year, none of this would have happened.”

“Apology?  A hand in friendship may be an apology to some, Malfoy, but coming from you it’s an insult, and of course I wasn’t about to accept your hand in friendship, you’d spent an entire summer getting me into trouble because you were bored.”

“You started it by being boring.  All you ever wanted to do was read and walk around the castle like a mindless git.”

“I was only reading because you were there, and you started it by only wanting to talk about how great your father was and how much better your home was compared to Hogwarts.”

“You started it by refusing to accept my friendship the first time I offered it.”

“You started it by kicking me in the back of the bloody knees before you’d even said ‘hello!’”

“Well... your mudblood whore of a mother started it when she pushed you out!”

-tbc-