Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. You would know if I did.

Warning: Harry/Draco slash. Almost completely ignores the end of the fifth book and the sixth. It will more or less probable ignore most of the seventh as well.

So I wasn't going to continue this, and then the stupid plot bunny popped into my head about 3 am last night and wouldn't go away until I had this written down. I'm taking a moment between classes to go ahead and type so I hope you all enjoy!

PS: I am piss-poor at introspection. And I am American, so I apologize for any American related terms and not British ones. Feel free to correct any of them for me.


It was one of those nights, what with Harry having been exiled away to his bedroom. Well, he had personally exiled himself. The Dursleys were downstairs doing whatever it was the Dursleys did without him nowadays. They had long since stopped making Harry be their personal slave. And ever since Dumbledore told Harry he need only call Pivot Drive home and still be safe from You-Know-Who, he had ceased almost all interaction with them. He stuck to his letters with Hermione and the Weasley's and was perfectly content.

Well, almost perfect.

It was the middle of July and still those last few days of his fifth year continued to dwell in the back of his head. Malfoy – Draco's offer of a truce had come as a shock, but a pleasant one. Still, he had been unsure how to go about it, and so had Mal – Draco, it seemed. Both boys would spot each other in the hall and pause, unsure whether they should insult the other or simply say hello. Harry had settled for smiling politely at the Slytherin who would either flush or smile back.

Ron and Hermione didn't know about the truce. Harry was reluctant to tell them.

Neither of his friends had made any snide comments about the young Malfoy, but Harry supposed that had to do with the events of the last year. Both still didn't know how to approach the subject. Honestly, Harry didn't want to talk to them about it. They couldn't really understand.

Hedwig chirped lightly from her perch on his desk. She was cleaning her bright wings, head bobbing just so as she tried to get at the harder to reach feathers. Harry smiled softly. Hedwig was the only good thing about living at the Dursley's. She stood upon an empty notebook.

Suddenly, Harry had an idea. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and leapt up, gently moving Hedwig, who chirped indignantly. He stroked her head, which seemed to placate her and she went back to grooming. The Gryffindor grabbed the notebook and sat back on the bed with a huff.

The first page had random doodles and homework notes on it. He ripped that out and tossed it in the general direction of his trash can. Retrieving a pen from his bedside table, Harry put it to the paper and thought about what to write.

Dear, Malfoy –

"No," he grumbled. "That won't do. Truces call for first names, right Hedwig?" He was ignored. Harry tapped the pen to his lips. "Draco just sounds too familiar…" he mumbled to himself. "But we're trying to be friends and friends don't call each other by their surnames. What do you think, Hedwig?"

Looking over, he saw that the owl had her eyes closed and was facing the other way.

"Some help you are…" he continued to grumble. A smile came to his face and he placed the tip of the pen back to the paper. The Boy-Who-Lived was feeling strangely light-hearted after the events of the last couple of years and he was determined to share it. He scribbled furiously into the notebook, that small smile (which seemed so rare these days) staying right where it was. He used up the first three pages before shouting triumphantly, startling Hedwig out of her slumber. Quickly reading over his note, he signed his name and closed it, locating a piece of string and tying it securely around the notebook. Harry stood up and bounded back over to Hedwig.

"I need you to deliver this to Draco Malfoy," he told the owl. She blinked up at him. "I'm assuming he lives at Malfoy Manor. I don't know where that is so you're kind of on your own there." As he spoke, Harry tied the ends of the string loosely around Hedwig's leg. "Can you do that for me?" He smoothed out the feathers on her wings.

In reply, the snow white owl spread her wings, talons hooking around the string, and hooted once. Harry flung open his window and watched her fly out, almost wishing he could follow her. Instead, he sighed wistfully and fell back on his bed, prepared to sleep the rest of the night away and not wake until morning. It was eight o'clock anyway.

/

It was nearing ten o'clock when Hedwig finally arrived at Malfoy Manor. She flitted by the windows, noting all the residents that occupied which rooms before finally locating the youngest Malfoy on the upper level of the Mansion. He was hunched over a textbook and scribbling into his own notebook when Hedwig landed on the windowsill. She tapped it with her beak.

The blonde boy startled, whipping his head around. Spotting the bird, he quickly got up and let her in. Hedwig strolled in like she owned the place; cool as a cucumber, even with her burden attached to her leg. The young Malfoy noticed the notebook and untied it from her leg as she preened her feathers.

She barely heard a thank you, flying out the window as soon as the string fell from her leg.

/

Draco had been so desperate to take his mind off of things that he had turned to homework. He hated doing his homework. But then again, with the Dark Lord living in his home, he was desperate for any sort of distraction. Like the delightful task that had been placed on his shoulders. Draco understood why it was him who had been chosen; he was the only one who could get close to Dumbledore. But that didn't stop him from asking: why him?

He wasn't a killer! Sure, he has no problem bullying kids at school, but they were easy targets! Dumbledore was a totally different story. The old professor was far more powerful then Draco would ever be. And it's not like those kids ever seriously got injured anyway.

This night found him working diligently working on his summer homework, anything to help take his mind off his family's "houseguest." Occasionally, the weight of his task would creep to the forefront of his mind and he would find his vision clouded by tears. He would quickly wipe them away, berating himself for being so weak and pathetic.

Why couldn't he be more like Potter? As much as he hated to admit it, less so now than before, he admired Pot – Harry. His name was Harry. He had to keep reminding himself that they were on a first-name basis now. And he could at least admit to himself that Harry was so much better than he was; Harry, who carried the whole world on his shoulders and who had faced down Voldemort multiple times, even as a baby. Draco couldn't even look the dark wizard in the eyes.

Harry was strong, even with his angst-ridden hero complex, while Draco… Draco was weak. Draco, who could barely stand up against his own father, let alone the Dark Lord, and who cowered when someone like Harry and his misfit friends stood up to him or punched him in the face. And wasn't that a pleasant memory…

Draco sighed, willing more tears to stay away when there was a light tap on his window. He jerked, having been so lost in his thoughts, and turned around, eyes widening at the beautiful white owl outside his window. What could Harry possibly want to say to him?

He quacking got up and rushed to open the window, wasting no time in untying the notebook attached to Hedwig's leg. And as soon as she was free, she left.

Draco watched her go before closing the window, going back to sit on his bed. A rather pleasant feeling shot through his chest at the idea of Harry Potter wanting to talk to him. Him, of all people! Then dread enclosed his rational mind. What if Harry just wanted to yell at him? What if it was just a really long hate-note telling him that Harry never wanted to see him again? What if…

The Slytherin shook his head. The talk with his father and Voldemort had him filled to the brim with nothing but negative thoughts. He needed something positive right now and Harry had provided just the cure.

He opened the notebook cautiously, almost fearing a prank, but sighed in relief when nothing popped out at him. He couldn't help but smile at the opening with his last name crossed out and his first replacing it. He began to read.

'Dear, -Mal- Draco,

This is weird, isn't it? I can't be the only one thinking so. I mean, we've been "enemies" for so long and suddenly we're trying to get along? Seems strange. But I'll get used to it, I'm sure. You suggested it, so I'm sure you've already come to terms with it. This better not be a trick though!'

Draco snorted. Obviously, Harry didn't realize that Draco was terrified of the turn this new relationship had taken.

'You probably just rolled your eyes or something. Yeah, I'm psychic like that. Anyway, this is the first time I've been in a good mood for a long time so I felt like sharing. How's your summer going? Better than mine, I hope. I'm constantly cooped up in my aunt and uncle's house with my wretched cousin bored out of my mind. There's honestly nothing to do but send letters to people and hope that I get something back. And writing to you, Hermione, and Ron is better than thinking about the last couple of years.

'Speaking of which (and I don't mean to offend, so if I do you're welcome to send back an angry letter yelling at me. No Howlers, please)I know you're dad's a Death Eater and I'm curious as to what it's like having to live him now that Voldemort's back. I swear I'm the only one not afraid to say his damn name. I remember Hermione once told your father that fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself. It's completely understandable to be afraid of him, sure, but I mean, come on!

'Anyway, completely veering off track.' Here a couple of lines were scratched out. Some of them were probably a couple of questions Harry wanted to ask, but figured they were too personal. Draco smiled. He did remember Hermione telling off his father in the bookshop their second year and admiring her for half a second because of it.

'I'm not sure what to ask you… I know we're not friends (yet) and I'm not very good at making them. Ron and Hermione just kind of made themselves known and they're great. Do you have any hobbies? And none really related to school. You like to fly; I know that, at least. I consider myself an amateur artist. I've got a few sketches of Hedwig that I'm proud of, but no one else has ever seen them. I don't think Ron and Hermione even know about them… If you ask nicely, maybe I'll let you see them. Feel honored.'

A small smiley face was drawn at the end of this sentence. Draco blushed, feeling very honored that Harry would relay such personal information to him and flustered at the teasing tone of this whole letter. It was a grand total of three and a half pages long.

'I'm trying to keep my mind off of my godfather (which is easier said than done), but time heals all wounds, right? Anyway, feel free to write me back to talk or to yell; either one works, it gives me something to do. We can use this notebook just for us, if you'd like.

'Hope you're doing better than I am,

Harry'

Following the Gryffindor's rather sloppy signature was his address in case Draco wanted to reply. And with the biggest smile he'd ever given, Draco flipped the page and grabbed a pen.


Wow, Draco's an angst kitten.

Also, does anyone know what type of owl Hedwig is? And does school start in August or September for Hogwarts?

Sort of light-hearted and kind of bad, but I hope you all like it anyway. Please review!