"You got an address? Good job, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed while they waited for the people in front of them to step through the fire. She eyed his disheveled appearance and grinned speculatively. "You like you got a bit more than an address," she said. She turned to Malfoy. "What about you, Malfoy?" she asked innocently. "Meet anyone you fancy?"

Malfoy shot her a look of pure hatred, before affecting an air of woe. "Too few people were on my level of intellect and looks, sadly," he announced dramatically.

Ginny laughed, looking surprised at Malfoy's show of humor. "Well, I'll head back now," she said as the fireplace cleared. "See you another time. You should come again, Malfoy." She waved to Harry and stepped into the flames.

They waited for everyone else to leave so that Harry didn't inadvertently give away their address. Harry was fairly certain that he could count on one hand the number of silences he had experienced as awkward as this.

When it came their turn to step into the fireplace, Malfoy grabbed his arm without looking at him. Harry stepped forward and they arrived home.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and leaned over to brush soot from his shoes. Malfoy hovered in the living room, his hands in his pockets. Harry looked up to see him studying the mantelpiece intently.

"Want to talk about it?" Harry asked.

"No," Malfoy said. "But I recognise that we live together and so avoiding each other isn't a decent option."

"No," Harry agreed. He waited.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy said finally, still not looking at him. "That wasn't fair."

"Huh?" Harry asked stupidly.

"I shouldn't have led you on," Malfoy continued. "I know you're looking for someone, and I guess I made you think that I was interested."

Malfoy was making it sound like Harry had jumped him, instead of the other way around. Harry opened his mouth to protest.

"I won't do it again," Malfoy said quickly, looking him in the eye for the first time.

Harry shut his mouth. "Alright," he said finally.

Malfoy nodded and went upstairs. Harry sat down on the couch, feeling very confused. Eventually, he fell asleep.

Malfoy didn't want to play quidditch the next day. Instead, he stayed up in his room, apparently learning some new song on guitar because he kept stopping and starting and playing the wrong notes. The door was open, so he wasn't exactly avoiding Harry, but Harry left him alone anyway.

Pulling out the stack of pamphlets Hermione had left him, he decided it was time to figure out what he was going to do with his life.

Dark Lords and the Wizards Who Stopped Them

The Lives and Life Expectancy of Amazing Aurors

Aurors: Why You'll Never Need a Nursing Home

Harry sighed. He had mentioned once, off-hand, that he might consider being an auror, and suddenly that was all anyone wanted for him. He'd had the idea before he had defeated a dark wizard. Now that was done, he rather felt he could do without that kind of thing ever again.

"Accio, Quidditch Through The Ages," he muttered, sending the book flying from the living room into his outstretched hand.

He flicked idly through the pages, wondering again if it were possible to become a professional Seeker when he was so behind in training. This was part of the reason he had asked Malfoy to do Seekers' runs with him. He had been hoping it would help make up his mind one way or another, but he was still just as confused. It seemed entirely possible, but he felt as though his friend's reactions would be less than supportive, given his obvious talent for defeating evil. Although if he thought about it, Ron would surely approve.

Maybe he could ask Krum. They were bound to contact Harry while they were staying with Krum, maybe he could Floo them there.

A noise at the doorway made him look up. Malfoy was standing there, looking hesitant. Despite the fact that he had obviously intended for them to return to normal interaction after last night, he seemed to be having the most trouble doing so.

"I've got to go into the Ministry," Malfoy said, waving a piece of parchment vaguely. "They have a new angle they want to check out, apparently."

Harry nodded. "See you later, then."

Malfoy turned and left.

Harry went back to his book, flicking back and forth in no particular order. The more he thought about it, the more he found himself wanting that kind of lifestyle. The training, the exhilaration of the game. It would be a busy lifestyle, one that would hopefully keep his thoughts away from the failures of his love-life.

He snapped the book shut and stood up to make a cup of tea. Every few minutes or so, his thoughts kept returning to Malfoy and last night, and if he wasn't able to put a stop to such thinking soon, he was afraid that Ron and Hermione were going to come home to a quivering wreck.

Malfoy had kissed him. Had kissed him really bloody well. Malfoy, it turned out, was an exceptionally good kisser.

And that was where his brain froze up and refused to go any further. That is, until Harry broke under the effort of trying to Not Think About It and was forced to repeat the whole messy thought process again.

Malfoy wasn't gay, and yet he had kissed Harry. Harry stopped and thought about it. He didn't actually know that Malfoy wasn't gay. He had only assumed because of the whole Pansy thing. But people would probably have said the same about Harry and the whole Ginny thing, and that was just laughable. He supposed it didn't really matter, because Malfoy, gay or not, had kissed him and, what's more, had liked it. That much was obvious.

But he wouldn't do it again. Harry frowned. What did that even mean? He wanted to do it again, but he wouldn't out of respect for Harry? Harry laughed out loud at the thought of that. So did that mean that he didn't want to do it again, and the first time had simply been a lapse in judgment? Harry shook his head. He had no idea what Malfoy had meant, and even if he did, he would still be left with the uncomfortable fact that he had no idea what he wanted.

Better to just ignore the whole thing.

He pulled a quill and a piece of parchment out of a drawer and sat down to write a letter to Krum. He still knew Krum's address from when he had caught and teased Hermione for keeping in touch with him, so he penned a quick note asking how he was and if he had any advice regarding professional quidditch, and telling him to say hi to Ron and Hermione for him. He then sent the message with Edgar - the owl he had bought to replace Hedwig.

He looked down at his quill, twirling it idly between his fingers. Before he had a chance to rethink his decision, he pulled another piece of parchment out of the drawer, wrote a short message asking if Dave wanted to go for lunch tomorrow, and sent the message with Malfoy's owl to the address on Dave's card.

When that was done, he felt a little breathless, and was devastated to discover that he still had an entire afternoon to kill. He moved into the living room and sat back on the couch, staring at the window and wondering how the hell he had ever managed being alone before.

His eyes slid over to the cabinet which used to hold a number of dark items, but had since been emptied. Now all it held were a selection of Harry's more breakable or precious objects, such as his sneakoscope and chess set, and the pouch Hagrid had given him for his last birthday. Harry stood up and retrieved the pouch. Reaching inside, he pulled out the snitch Dumbledore had left him with the resurrection stone sealed inside. He let it hover in front of him, humming quietly, before snatching it back and setting it down on the couch where it calmly folded its wings and waited. Reaching back in, he paused a moment before pulling out the Elder wand.

He had been going to put it back in its final resting place with Dumbledore, but too many people had witnessed his final battle with Voldemort, where he had proclaimed the Elder Wand as his own despite Voldemort taking it from Dumbledore's grave, for him to be comfortable leaving it there. If the wand was in the wrong hands it could be devastating. So he had quietly kept it, figuring that the magical pouch inside the house where he was Secret Keeper was safe enough for now.

He held it up and felt it thrum beneath his fingertips, almost as though it were alive. It wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold either. He pointed it experimentally at the cabinet and watched the whole thing rise in the air effortlessly, as if the wand had been waiting for an excuse to be used.

He set the cabinet down again hurriedly before anything broke and admired the wand. It was certainly tempting to use, but that would just be asking for someone to try and take it off him. Better for him to act as though he didn't have it any more, and hope its whereabouts descended into mystery.

He had just slipped the wand back into the pouch and sent it back to the cabinet when the flames turned green and Malfoy stepped through. He looked faintly surprised to see Harry sitting there, but covered it quickly with a sneer.

"Don't you do anything with your day, Potter?" he asked.

Harry opened his mouth to snap something along the lines of Malfoy missing him, when he realised that the other night put a whole new spin on banter like that. He shut his mouth.

Malfoy didn't seem to notice, and sat down on the couch.

"So, what did Shacklebot show you today?" Harry asked instead.

Malfoy made a face, but didn't seem too distressed. Perhaps the memories he'd been forced to endure hadn't been too bad today. "It seems over the past few days the Ministry have been collecting memories of Twilfitt," he said. "They don't have very many recent ones, as, unsurprisingly, few people were indulging in dress robes during The Dark Lord's rise to power. The ones they have were interesting, though." Malfoy looked thoughtful. "He became very twitchy in the last few months of The Dark Lord's life. More so than your average Death Eater," Malfoy gave a wry smile. "And it would seem as though he was looking for something. I've suggested they ask Ollivander for memories." He looked pointedly at Harry.

Harry frowned. "But Voldemort didn't tell anyone about the Elder wand," he said.

Malfoy shrugged. "Then either a little birdy told him, or he had a nasty fetish. All I know is that he was unreasonably nervous for someone so far from The Dark Lord's inner circle, and he was very interested in wand lore and history."

"That's not good," Harry said after an uncomfortable pause.

"You think?" Malfoy sneered.

Before Harry could say anything, Malfoy's owl flew back in. Malfoy looked surprised for a second, but when it flew to Harry his expression changed instantly to suspicion.

"I had to send two messages," Harry explained.

"And you didn't wait like any normal person?" Malfoy queried.

"Well, I sent Edgar to Bulgaria," he said apologetically. "I figured he could do with a rest when he came back. Besides, this one was," he paused, remembering suddenly and vividly Malfoy's reaction to Dave's interest in Harry. "Spontaneous," he finished in what he hoped was a casual voice.

When he chanced a look at Malfoy, he saw that Malfoy's eyes were glazed in anger. Before Harry could speak, Malfoy got up and left the room.

Harry came to the conclusion that although Malfoy didn't want to snog Harry himself, for some reason he wanted to reserve the right to an opinion on anyone else who did. Which in Harry's mind meant that however else Malfoy may have changed in the last few months, he was still an arse.

When Kreacher was serving dinner that night, Malfoy came down with a large book in his hands. He set it carefully on the table and gave Harry a look that was equal parts anger and caution. When Harry didn't say anything, he sat down and shoved his hair back casually, as if you couldn't cut the tension between them with a knife.

"So, I was looking into these Hallows," Malfoy said, taking his plate from Kreacher. "And I think there's more to them."

"How?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore had no reason to leave anything out anymore. He told me everything."

"What if he didn't know?" Malfoy asked. "It's possible."

Harry felt insulted, but he stopped himself from arguing. If he had learned anything over the last year, it was that Dumbledore was a man like anyone else and capable of mistakes.

"What do you think they were?" he asked instead.

"I'm not sure yet." Malfoy looked annoyed. He gestured to the book. "Watching Twilfitt got me thinking about this wand being recorded through history. It didn't make sense that these three amazing items, incomparable to anything you've ever seen, could have made it through history so unnoticed. Like the wand, surely they had been recorded in some way. And if they had been recorded, maybe there was something Dumbledore and Grindelwald had missed. Something lost in translation, or written in a place they didn't expect."

Harry frowned, but didn't interrupt.

"I mean, as much as it seemed Dumbledore was a bit of a hellion in his youth," Malfoy said drily. "I can't imagine him prioritizing dark magic texts over other texts. So he would already have a bias in his research base."

Harry hated to admit it, but it made sense.

"Plus," Malfoy continued. "So many of the truly dark texts are kept in private collections, where you would have to know someone to gain access. You're not just going to find them in a library somewhere, no matter how eclectic."

"So how do we get them?" Harry asked.

Malfoy smirked. "Think about what I just said, Potter." He tapped the book on the table. "We have quite a nice starting point already."

Harry's eyes widened as he realised what Malfoy meant. He made a quick decision to tell Hermione and Ron nothing. Not only would they disapprove of him looking into the Hallows again, but Hermione would never let him look at the Malfoy library without having her say.

"And where do we go once we've exhausted your collection?" Harry asked, wondering just how much Malfoy's bookcase could tell them.

"I think, Potter," Malfoy said, looking faintly uneasy. "It might be time for me to visit home."