The sound of something smashing into hundreds of tiny pieces, followed by a high-pitched shriek, woke Harry abruptly the next morning. He bolted upright, struggling to extract his wand from his pocket in time, before his half-asleep brain woke up enough to process the situation. He felt Malfoy sit up behind him.

Kreacher stood in front of the couch, his tiny hands covering his mouth and broken crockery on the floor at his feet. From the scattered toast beneath the plate, Harry assumed he had been bringing breakfast to the person on the couch. The single round of toast suggested Kreacher hadn't realised there had been more than one person. As Harry fumbled for an explanation, Kreacher made a slightly strangled noise, like a sob.

Harry faltered, confused.

"Kreacher is just so happy," Kreacher burst out finally, removing his hands to speak and revealing a beaming grin. "His two Masters, together."

"Er, Draco isn't your Master," Harry said stupidly.

"Well, hold on a second," Malfoy said with a smirk, although his eyes were still slightly hooded from sleep. "If we're in a relationship and we're living together, I am Kreacher's master."

Harry groaned. "Be nice," he said, while Kreacher began crying with joy.

"Kreacher will prepare more breakfast," Kreacher said, snapping his fingers and instantly removing the broken porcelain and himself from the room.

"Have you noticed how much more like Dobby he's becoming?" Harry muttered vaguely, thinking of the Kreacher he had first met compared to the Kreacher that had begun to emerge since Harry had given him the locket.

Malfoy yawned. Harry glanced at Malfoy, who was running a hand through his hair sleepily.

"My neck hurts," Malfoy declared.

Harry hesitated and then reached up to gently massage Malfoy's neck.

Malfoy's glanced sideways at Harry before relaxing into the massage. He closed his eyes.

"Feels nice," he mumbled, leaning back into Harry's hand.

Harry gave a final massage and pulled his hand back just in time to avoid Kreacher having another crockery disaster.

"Toast and eggs," Kreacher said proudly, presenting them each with a plate and a cup of tea.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said, trying not to laugh.

Kreacher sniffed loudly and disapparated.

Malfoy inspected the suddenly empty space with a disturbingly impish expression. "Reckon we should snog in front of him and make him faint?" he asked brightly.

Harry choked on his toast. "I said, be nice," he spluttered when he had finally stopped coughing.

Malfoy shrugged. "Don't think we'd even need to snog, to be honest," he muttered. "A particularly licentious battering of the eyelids would probably do the trick."

"That's beside the point," Harry said firmly.

"Spoil sport."

Before Malfoy could argue any further, Harry's owl flew in the window.

"That was quick," Harry muttered, unrolling the letter. Malfoy leaned over his shoulder to read.

Dear Mr. Potter, Professor McGonagall had written.

Professor Firenze has anticipated your request and left the attached message with me for safekeeping. I trust you will find it useful.

Harry switched to the second parchment.

Harry Potter, I am afraid I must warn you that as your cloak has become lost to you, it has been reunited with its second brother. If you are to prevent the third from joining their company, you must accept that which you have always sought most to reject, or lose it to another less worthy.

"He was never an overly optimistic fellow, was he?" Malfoy said, his lip curled in distaste. "What will you lose? What you always hoped to reject? That can't be too bad, surely, or you wouldn't have kept rejecting it. Or does he mean you'll lose the wand?"

"The wand," Harry said slowly, feeling a step behind Malfoy, but not so far behind as he usually felt with Hermione. "That's what he means by the third brother? So the cloak is with the stone. Which means Twilfitt has them both." He fell back against the couch, feeling suddenly deflated. "It must have been Dave you heard in the forest that night."

Malfoy glanced at him.

"I let slip about leaving something in the forest," Harry admitted, mentally kicking himself all over again. "It must have been enough for him to put two and two together. Or he could have watched me closely after that and seen where we went. Anything is possible."

Malfoy turned back to the parchment. "Forget it. There's no point dwelling on past mistakes," he said drily. "Instead, try to figure out what it could be that you have to accept. Apparently, that's rather important."

Harry nodded and leaned forward to read the note again. "So, I've always rejected it, and now I have to accept it," he said dully. "Or I'll lose it to someone less worthy. That's it. No more information."

"Centaurs," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "They love rubbing in how much more powerful they are than wand-carriers."

Harry frowned at him. "I've never heard a wizard use that term."

"I've never really had a problem with derogatory terminology," he said, raising his eyebrow in a contemptuous gesture that made Harry remember a time not so long ago that Malfoy wouldn't hesitate to term someone Mudblood. "It's just a word."

Harry opened his mouth and shut it again, making what he deemed a wise decision to leave that fight for another day.

"So are they really that much more powerful?" he asked. "Or do they just like being cryptic?"

Malfoy made a face. "There's a lot of debate on that," he said, leaning back into the couch. "Just like with wizards, some centaurs are more powerful than others. They access magic directly, you see, without the need of a wand as a conduit. Since they don't exactly like to sit in front of a panel of curious wand-carriers and demonstrate just how much magic they can funnel without being consumed by it, we've had to make do with recording each increasingly powerful act a centaur or other magical creature has produced and labeling that the most powerful act possible until further notice."

Harry had never heard magic described like this before. Hogwarts had focused on teaching them how to use it, but never explained what it was. Or, if it had, he had never paid attention. "What do you mean, consumed by it?" Harry asked, an image of spontaneous combustion popping into his head.

"Since they have no wands to funnel the magic for them," Malfoy explained. "They have to control the process themselves. It's a volatile thing, magic. Funneling it without a conduit requires skill and concentration. That's why you sometimes see house elves that have gone completely insane."

"House elves?" Harry asked, confused at the sudden jump.

Malfoy smirked. "Surprised? Of course, house elves. They're magical creatures too. They can't funnel as much magic as centaurs can, but they still don't require a wand as a conduit. Humans are the only magic users who need an external conduit. Sometimes children slip because they have such a new, raw connection with magic, but it's never properly controlled or useful. And, obviously, with practice you get wizards who are so powerful that they can create wandless magic, but that is after years of practice with a wand. It is never as complete and as natural as with magical creatures."

Harry was silent for a few moments. "I think I just learned more about the theory of magic from you in five minutes than I ever did at Hogwarts."

That surprised a laugh out of Malfoy. "Well, you were clearly so deprived as a child," he said airily. "Any normal wizard would have grown up knowing something about that, even if they didn't know it all."

"Er, raised by Muggles, remember?" Harry said.

Malfoy waved a hand dismissively. "Muggleborns normally know more history than wizard children. As soon as they get their letter, they jump at the chance to learn all about our world. You're an anomaly."

"My house wasn't exactly a learning environment," Harry said drily.

Malfoy pulled a face. Suddenly he paused. "That's right, your Muggles hated you, didn't they?" He looked oddly thoughtful.

"How did you know that?" Harry asked.

"Everyone knew that," Malfoy said. "It was perfect fodder for teasing you, but I never needed to use it because you gave me so much better material anyway."

Harry punched him lightly on the shoulder. Malfoy ignored him, which showed Harry just how distracted he really was.

"Would you say that you craved their attention?" he asked.

"Who? The Dursleys?" Harry asked, pulling a face. "Christ, no. Most of the time I wished they'd go away and leave me in the house alone."

"So, you rejected them?" Malfoy asked pointedly.

Harry began to nod, before he realised what Malfoy meant. "What?" He exclaimed. "No. Not that. Seriously, I rejected a lot of people. I rejected Snape. I rejected Umbridge. Firenze's message can't mean anything like that."

Malfoy continued to stare at him solemnly. "Snape and Umbridge weren't important to you. They weren't your family. The note said what you sought most to reject. You spent your life rejecting them, rejecting their world."

"They rejected me too!" Harry yelped. "It's not like it means anything. I think you're clutching at straws, Malfoy."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes suddenly. "I thought we weren't calling each other by last names anymore."

"Oh, right," Harry said. To his horror, he started to blush. "Draco."

Malfoy relaxed his eyes again, but raised his eyebrow instead. "I wouldn't have taken you as a blusher, Potter," he said with a smirk.

This time Harry narrowed his eyes. "You're right," Harry said through mock gritted teeth. "Let's keep it at first names from now on."

Malfoy laughed, his face changing again with the relaxed expression. As Harry studied his face, no less surprised by the transformation as he had been the first time, Malfoy took advantage of Harry's distraction and leaned in, pressing his lips against Harry's.

Harry started slightly, everything feeling new and different now that it was a new morning. He relaxed and leaned forward into the kiss, running his hands along Malfoy's face and into his hair. He felt Malfoy relax beneath his lips and they gently fell back against the couch, the conversation forgotten.

"So, Harry," Malfoy said suddenly, pulling back. "I think we should pay your relatives a visit," he said.

Harry groaned. Then he remembered something more about the note. "But I wouldn't care if I lost them to someone less worthy." He said. "Worthy or not, they can have them. Frankly, I shudder to think of a person who wouldn't be worthy of having the Dursleys."

"It probably means you lose the wand," Malfoy said. "Poor use of pronouns. Don't blame him, he probably missed a grammar lesson or two. Too busy stargazing."

Harry sighed and pushed off the couch. "Fine, let's get this over with. Though I don't know what you expect me to do."

Malfoy shrugged. "Give them a hug or something." He stood up. "Maybe we should bring the wand. It might give us some indication of whether we're on the right path."

Harry nodded and retrieved the wand from its place in the magical pouch. He held it up.

"That's strange," he muttered. "It doesn't feel like it used to."

"Can I hold it?" Malfoy asked, his eyes eager although he held himself back.

Harry passed him the wand.

"Feels like a normal wand," he said, disappointed.

"Well, you're not the owner," Harry said. "I think it's meant to feel normal. But it's meant to be impressive to me."

"Maybe you're not trying hard enough," Malfoy said, passing it back. "Give it a wave at the Dursleys. If they're not what you're meant to accept, I promise I'll let you turn them into frogs."

Harry laughed and slipped the wand back into the pouch. "Hagrid tried to turn Dudley into a pig once."

Malfoy burst out laughing. "Maybe the oaf isn't so bad," he said lightly.

They walked to the front step and disapparated to Privet drive.

Harry sighed again, preparing himself for the onslaught of yelling that was sure to greet him, and knocked on the door of Number 4. Malfoy stood next to him, looking at the manicured garden curiously.

A solid wall of muscle opened the door.

"Hi, Big D," Harry said with a grin.

Dudley made an alarming choking noise. He swung the door wide open and stared at Harry. His eyes slid to Malfoy briefly and then back to Harry. "You're alive," he finally choked out.

Harry stared at him. The alarming choking noise Dudely had uttered began to threaten Harry's vocal cords. He swallowed. "Yes," he said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"They said. You said." Dudley was still staring at him like he was a ghost. "You couldn't hide with us. You held a unique position in the anti-Vold-e-thingy. I thought that meant he was after you."

Harry's jaw worked, but no sound came out.

"It did," Malfoy interrupted. "He was. Harry died. He came back to life. It's a special thing he does to get more attention. It worked rather well. Can we come inside?"

Dudley's jaw dropped. Harry's muscles finally came back to life. He'd had enough of this. Deliriously, he found himself wishing for the old Dudley back.

"Get it together, Big D," he muttered, shoving Dudley aside and walking into the house. It was like shoving a mountain, but Dudley fell back anyway. "Voldemort's gone. You're safe. You know this, obviously, since someone told you you could return to Privet Drive in safety."

Dudley nodded, closing the door and looking a little less shocked. "Yeah. A letter came. Said the war was over. It didn't say you lived though, and you never came back."

Harry shook his head in bewilderment. "Look, Dudley, could you just hit me over the head or something? I think I preferred our special form of conversation. It was beautifully simple."

Dudley grinned and finally moved into the hall. "Come on, then. Mum and Dad are in the kitchen."

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who was grinning with delight. "This doesn't mean you're right," Harry muttered. "Dudley was showing signs of this kind of madness last time I saw him. He's just grown up a bit, that's all."

Malfoy continued to grin like a madman.

"Diddy?" Aunt Petunia called from the kitchen. "Who was at the door, sweety?"

"Harry's home," Dudley called, stepping aside so that Harry and Malfoy could move into the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia shrieked and dropped the bowl she was holding. It smashed into pieces in a grim parody of Kreacher this morning.

Uncle Vernon stood up from the table and glared at him. If Malfoy had thought Dudley's greeting had meant Harry would be met with affection from his aunt and uncle, his hopes would have to be destroyed now. "What do you think you're doing, showing your face back here, boy?" Uncle Vernon snarled.

"I missed you too," Harry said, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed.

Aunt Petunia unfroze and retrieved a broom and tray from the cupboard. She began stiffly sweeping up the mess while Vernon continued to glare at Harry.

"Months go by, and you come waltzing in here now," Vernon spat, his face turning red. "Not a single apology in all that time. Not one letter to apologise for the inconvenience you put us through. More than a year we were shuttled around by your lot. And then, suddenly it's over! We get a nice little letter telling us to come on home, and that's it! No care package. No convenience cheque for the time we spent being treated like common refugees all because we were related to you. And now you come by. Well, you can just march right back out again! We raised you, fed you, clothed you. You're not in danger any more and you have no reason to be on our premises and YOU ARE NOT WELCOME!" He roared the finally words and choked to a stop, his chest heaving dangerously.

"Sorry I didn't think to send a postcard," Harry shot back, ignoring Malfoy's stiff posture by his side. "I was a little busy KILLING A DARK WIZARD." He turned to Malfoy. "This isn't right. It can't be right. Let's go. Please?"

Malfoy turned to him, his eyebrow raised in incredulity. "You might be right," he said lazily. "I think we should take a look around, just to make sure we're not missing something. Centaurs are not known for their simple instructions. Then let's go."

Harry nodded stiffly and turned around.

"And just where do you think you're going, boy?" Vernon roared after him.

"I'm leaving, just like you said," Harry yelled back.

"You better be walking straight out that door," Uncle Vernon yelled. "There will be no 'taking a look around', boy. Not in my house."

There was a noise like a fizzling electric light. Harry turned around and saw Vernon pressed up against the wall, a bright white rope tied tightly around him and across his mouth. His eyes darted furiously, but he couldn't move. Petunia made a noise of protest, but didn't move, while Dudley suddenly watched Malfoy warily.

"That will come off, Dursely, when we leave," Malfoy said carefully. "So it's in your best interests not to interrupt us any longer."

Harry turned away and walked up the stairs to his old bedroom. He opened the door and saw it had been converted back into Dudley's second bedroom. It was filled with weights and other gym equipment. He looked quickly in the cupboards and around the floor, but nothing jumped out at him. He couldn't feel anything. This whole lead felt wrong.

He heard Malfoy come up behind him. "I don't think this is right," he said. "There's nothing here."

"I hate to say it," Malfoy said, looking around with distaste. "But I think you're right. These people aren't your family. There's nothing special about them. Let's go."

Harry led the way back down the stairs. He paused at the bottom and opened the door to the cupboard, just in case.

Malfoy pulled a face. "What are you checking a cupboard for?"

"It was my bedroom until I was eleven," Harry said simply.

Malfoy froze. When Harry looked up, Malfoy's face was twisted into an expression Harry had never seen on him before. Shock and... compassion?

A sharp crack rent the air, and Malfoy and Harry spun around to find Kreacher standing in the hallway.

"Masters, a message," Kreacher said, looking worried and a little panicked. He floated a small orb in front of him, sending it up in front of Harry's face. It was filled with a kind of smoke that mixed between midnight blue and deep black.

Malfoy drew a sharp intake of breath. "Don't touch it," he said.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"A challenge," he said quietly. "Wizards used to send them as an invitation to a duel. It's a message and a portkey, but they're often designed to drain the traveler so that he's too debilitated to fight properly when he arrives. Twilfitt would have to be an idiot to think you'd accept a challenge like this."

As they watched, the midnight blue of the orb swirled and changed, revealing two faces that Harry recognised instantly, despite the blur of the smoke.

Malfoy groaned. "Alright, so he knew you were an idiot." He waved his wand, releasing Uncle Vernon from the spell. Just as Vernon roared and charged up the hall toward them, he took hold of Harry's arm and grabbed the orb, masking Ron and Hermione's terrified faces with his hand.