Harry was surprised to find himself alone at breakfast the next morning. He had already determined that Malfoy was an early riser, but he hadn't realised that he had become used to having Malfoy at the table with him.

When he finished, he went into the living room to begin looking through the books they had brought back yesterday and realised that Malfoy was already awake.

"Morning," Malfoy said without looking up from Salazar Slytherin's journal. Harry looked at the pile of books next to him and wondered what the chances were that Malfoy had already read them all. "Start reading, Potter," Malfoy said, destroying his hopes.

Harry sat down with a sigh and picked up the book at the top of the stack.

"The Salem Witch Trials?" Harry read out loud, looking up at Malfoy dubiously.

"One of the largest magic exposures in Muggle history," Malfoy said, marking his place and looking up at Harry. "Witches and wizards everywhere were desperate to stop it before it became worse. I imagine that some of them would have sought powerful objects to help them. And that author is particularly keen on the history of dark artifacts, so his recording of the trials may have a bias." He turned back to his book.

Harry decided to simply accept that he was out of his depth when it came to Malfoy and Hermione, and set to searching for any mention of cloaks, stones or wands.

After an hour of fighting to stay awake, Harry was thrilled to see Edgar fly in through the open window. He reached up and almost snatched Edgar out of the air, eagerly grabbing the package from his claws. Edgar gave a relieved hoot and flew off to his perch for owl treats and water.

Malfoy watched curiously as Harry ripped open the package. A shiny red and gold book dropped into his lap. Harry nearly groaned at the sight of another book until he saw the title: Seeker Training Manual. There was a piece of parchment in the front cover.

I was pleased to hear from you, Harry, Krum wrote. I have always said that your talent as a Seeker should not go to waste. I have recommended you to my captain, who will pass on his regards to the English quidditch captain. With luck, you may hear from them. In the meantime, please accept this training manual, which will hopefully prepare you for the level of skill required as a professional Seeker. It will take more than just raw talent, so practice well. - Krum.

"Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed picking the book up and turning it over.

"Don't get distracted now, Potter," Malfoy warned, although his eyes were bright with interest as he eyed the book in Harry's hands. "Work before play."

Harry passed over the book and the note for Malfoy to look at.

"So this is why you've been interested in practicing?" Malfoy said. He looked up at Harry curiously. "I thought you were going into Auror training."

Harry shrugged. "I thought about it." he hesitated. "But I think I've had enough danger for now." He pulled a face and added drily, "it would be nice to focus on something I enjoy, instead of, you know, saving the world."

Malfoy eyed him speculatively. "I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to play hero again," he said.

Harry snorted. "You really never knew me very well, did you?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He put the book down next to him. "Now, Potter, you can have a break in an hour," he said, adopting a teacher's tone.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to pick up his book again, before realising that another piece of parchment had fallen out of the packaging. "It's from Ron and Hermione," he said, beaming as he picked up the scroll.

Malfoy wrinkled his nose in mock distaste, before suddenly looking up. "Oh yeah," he said hesitantly. "I had a question for you, Potter."

"Mmm?" Harry said, tearing his eyes away from Hermione's neat handwriting.

"I enjoyed seeing Zabini last night," he said, still speaking carefully. "I'd like to see him again."

Harry frowned, unsure why this affected him.

"But I can't really go out in public," Malfoy continued, looking at Harry as if he was simple.

Harry paused. "Oh, right," he said as it hit him. "You'd need him to come here, wouldn't you?"

Malfoy nodded. Harry was surprised that Malfoy didn't launch into a multitude of reasons why he should be allowed a visitor.

"Well, I suppose that's fine," Harry said finally. He couldn't think of a reason why Zabini couldn't visit. It wasn't as if Zabini would be able to give away their secret. It was only his own personal dislike for the guy that would make him turn him away, and that was hardly fair to Malfoy. "Do you want to tell him to apparate a couple of streets over, and then I'll go fetch him and tell him the address?" He asked.

Malfoy grinned and nodded, before whistling for his owl. Harry turned back to his letter.

Dear Harry, Hermione wrote.

We are having a fantastic time in Bulgaria! There is so much more to do here than in Romania, although that may only be because Viktor is so much more sociable than Charlie. You wouldn't think it, would you? He has taken us to so many wonderful restaurants and clubs, and we've only been here a couple of days. It seems that if you're an international quidditch star, you get to know all the best places. Only yesterday we

Hi Harry, Ron's messy scrawl suddenly took over. I tried to tell 'Mione not to bore you with all the day-to-day stuff, but she wouldn't listen. A mess of ink scratched along the page as some kind of struggle obviously took place. Alright, fine, Ron continued. She took on board my suggestion, Harry smiled as he heard Hermione dictating through the words. But thought you would nonetheless appreciate to hear the finer details of the trip, because you are cultured and polite. Her words, not mine. I don't think you're cultured and polite at all, because that would make you a git. A small blob of ink took the place of the next word. Alright, fine! You would probably love to hear all about the sodding places that 'Viktor' has taken us but we don't have much time, so I think it's much better to just say 'Hi' and that we miss you (no, really, Hermione isn't just making me write that) and we hope you've put Malfoy in a full body bind at least twice. I mean, we hope that you haven't had to hex him at all, because that would be impolite and uncultured. Which you are not. Bye, mate! See you soon!

Miss you Harry! Hermione's neat handwriting came back. Can't wait to see you. We visit Nurmengard in two days - probably tomorrow by the time this reaches you - so I'm sure you'll want to hear all about that. We might try to Floo you! Much love - Hermione and Ron.

Harry shook his head in an effort to wipe the silly smile off his face. He glanced up at Malfoy, who thankfully was not watching, and called a new book over to him, having decided that the Salem Witch Trials had nothing new to offer.

He opened the new book without reading the title - something about famous thieves and thefts. He felt a soft whoosh of air, and then it felt suddenly as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He doubled over. Through the fog of his addled brain, he heard a noise that sounded like concern, but he was unable to process who it could have come from.

The pain subsided and he managed to straighten up. Across the room, he saw Malfoy looking at him with shock and something that looked strangely like worry. He frowned. What was Malfoy doing in his living room?

He fumbled for his wand and pointed it at Malfoy. "What the hell are you doing here?" He snarled. Malfoy reeled back as if Harry had hit him. Harry stood up and began backing toward the door. He looked around as he went. "Where's the Order?" he asked. "Where's Dumbledore?"

Malfoy's face paled, but Harry barely noticed. Malfoy made to stand, but Harry pointed his wand back at Malfoy's chest. "Don't even think about it, Malfoy," he spat. "Stay where you are."

Malfoy held up his hands slowly. "Potter," he said. "Calm down. You've been hit by something."

"You, probably," Harry said with a bitter laugh. "What did you do to me?"

Malfoy laughed, but it was curiously devoid of humor. It sounded almost despairing. "Nothing, Potter," he said. He paused, looking at Harry's wand. "Harry, please listen to me."

Harry's jaw dropped in shock. "What did you just say?"

"Harry, you've lost your memory, but it's hopefully temporary," Malfoy said, keeping very still. "The war is over. You won. You killed the Da- Voldemort. We don't hate each other anymore." He paused. "We're friends."

Harry barked a laugh. "Friends? Why the hell would we be friends?"

Malfoy froze, before his lip quirked bitterly. "I've no idea," he said finally.

Harry frowned. The look in Malfoy's eyes was familiar. He'd seen that look before. Late at night, when his father had been given the Kiss.

He dropped his wand in shock, his memories returning. "Oh, shit," he said, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I didn't remember."

Malfoy relaxed slightly, although his expression didn't change. "All came flooding back, did it?" he asked, looking away. He dropped his hands back down onto his lap now that Harry was no longer pointing a wand at him. "Don't worry, Potter. Must have been an anti-theft spell. Made to disorient you and make you forget why you were reading the book until someone could come and capture you." He turned back to his book.

Harry watched him helplessly, unsure why the look of bitter pain on Malfoy's face was making him feel so awful. "Malfoy," he said. Malfoy didn't look up. "Draco," he said hesitantly.

Malfoy's head whipped up sharply. "I said forget it, Potter," he snapped.

Harry flinched. Then, as his mind started to return to normal, he realised he was angry. "Well, what did you mean you've no idea why we're friends?" Harry snapped back. "You could have said anything: you grew a backbone; I got a handle on my temper; we got to know each other instead of just hexing blindly at the sound of each others' name. Anything."

Malfoy's eyes flashed. "I grew a backbone? So I'm suddenly good enough for you, is that it, Potter?"

"What?" Harry frowned. "How can you turn "growing a backbone" into a bad thing? Yeah, you're a better person now. Shouldn't you be proud of that?"

Malfoy shoved the book aside and stood up. "That'd be right," he spat. "I should have guessed. Proud of the converted Death Eater, are you? Want to show him off to all your friends?" He pulled out his wand and aimed it at Harry. Against his will, Harry's eyes slid to the scar running along Malfoy's neck and further down, hidden under his shirt. Malfoy watched him. He smirked. "Want another go, Potter? I'll be a bit quicker this time."

Harry stared at him, wondering what nerve he had struck to trigger this response. The expression of pain was still on Malfoy's face, although now it was hidden by a sneer. He didn't want to fight Malfoy, but he didn't know what to do instead. If he did nothing, Malfoy would probably walk away, but that felt too much like Ron walking away from him when he had believed Harry was hungry for fame. He didn't want that either, which left him in unfamiliar territory.

"No, I don't want another go, Malfoy," he said quietly. "I never wanted 'a go' in the first place. It was an accident. I didn't know what the spell did. And no, now that you mention it, I don't want to show you off to all my bloody friends like some kind of trick-performing pet. That's not how you treat someone who is brave and loyal."

Malfoy stared at him in disbelief. Harry kept talking. "You're as loyal to your family as anyone I ever saw in the Order," Harry said with a small laugh. "Your family just made you do different things to prove it. And I always thought you were a coward, but you were just a kid. And when you were old enough to be more than just a kid, you proved you were a better man than your father. You didn't turn me in to Voldemort. You even let me escape - don't think I don't know you let me take those wands. You had three wands and I had nothing. You let us get away."

Malfoy's wand had lowered, but Harry wasn't sure that Malfoy even noticed what his arm was doing. He was watching Harry intensely, his expression unreadable.

"You're not a converted Death Eater," Harry continued, trying to find the right words to convey what he meant. "I would never call you that, just like I would never call Snape a converted Death Eater. It's condescending. You're more than that. You turned your back on Voldemort, even though following him was all that was ever expected of you. And now that he's gone, you're doing what you have to in order to be true to what you think is right, despite the fact that no one sees any good in you for it. You don't care how anyone else sees you, so long as you're loyal to your family and to yourself." He took a deep breath. "I admire you for that, Draco."

Malfoy's wand clattered to the floor. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't seem to find the words. Then something seemed to occur to him. He narrowed his eyes and said "that's nothing new to the Savior. Nothing worth admiring."

Harry laughed bitterly. "I never really had a choice in what to believe. Voldemort was evil. He killed my parents. I was destined to defeat him or die trying - or both, as it turned out. I never had to choose to be better than I should be. It's easy to meet expectations when they're expected of you. So I'm not being condescending when I say I admire you; I really do. You didn't 'suddenly become good enough for me'," Harry mimicked Malfoy's tone. "You're loyal and brave. I just never saw it because it's not the kind of bravery I ever had to have. And because you hid it by spending seven years acting like a spectacular git," Harry finished in exasperation.

Malfoy stared at him. Finally, his lip quirked slightly. "So, you're telling me that I'm better than you?" he said, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

"Steady on," Harry said with a relieved grin.

"No, no," Malfoy said. "I heard it very clearly, you can't take it back now. You said 'Draco, you are both braver than me and infinitely more handsome'. It was quite distinct."

Harry hurled a cushion at him. Malfoy reached for his wand, but Harry was quicker.

"Accio Malfoy's wand," he said, grinning as the wand flew into his hand.

Malfoy glared at him. "That's not fair," he said.

Harry twirled the wand between his fingers. It felt strangely light, like his own wand. He pointed it experimentally at the couch and flicked a couple of cushions around. "Hey, I can still use it," he said in surprise.

"Well, you are a wizard," Malfoy said drily. "Wizards tend to be able to do that sort of thing."

"No, I mean it still feels like mine," Harry said, shaking his head. "I was surprised at how well it took to me when I stole it off you, but I would have thought it would feel different now that I've given it back."

Malfoy frowned. "It probably should," he said dubiously. "Give it here." He held out his hand.

Harry passed the wand over. Malfoy levitated the couch with a frown. "Still feels like mine," he said slowly. "Give me yours."

"Nice try."

"No, seriously, give me yours."

Harry sighed and passed over his wand, eying Malfoy warily. But Malfoy merely levitated the couch with Harry's wand.

"Feels like mine, too," he muttered, still frowning.

"Have you ever heard of that before?" Harry asked. "I thought wands were meant to bond distinctly to one wizard."

"So did I." Malfoy shrugged. "Maybe you confused the poor things when you used my wand for so long and then gave it back."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe."

Malfoy looked at the time and gave a start. "Zabini will be apparating nearby soon. Will we leave the research for now?"

Harry nodded and together they sent the books into various hidden alcoves around the room, to avoid drawing attention to what they were doing. Satisfied that it was discrete, Harry left to meet Zabini.