Rule #13

“So!” Harry squeals, shaking his limbs from his toes to his head the way Sirius taught him. “Tell me how the kidnapping went! Did you find James and Regulus holding handssssss???”

Draco gives Harry one of his I Hate Everyone looks which is such a big fat lie because Draco likes and loves a lot of things, Harry knows that for a fact, he knows it better than the words in his textbooks, the house rules his mom posted on his bedroom door, the scar on his forehead.

For example: Draco dramatic pause Malfoy likes Harry Dursley. 

Wait—not like-like. In a friend way. Or even a family way. Like the two of them are basically brothers…no that doesn’t sound right either. Draco’s not Dudley, thank bejeezus. 

The point is that Draco, in his own words, doesn’t tolerate much...BUT he tolerates Harry!

Draco hasn’t said so himself, but Harry knows. He knows because Draco promised, or maybe he threatened, to break into Harry’s home like a nINjA and steal him away when the school year starts. He knows because Draco, with his many dramatic pauses, has agreed to help Harry with anything and everything, including tying off friendship bracelets, matchmaking two (2!) pairs of counselors, playing hacky sack, coordinating their Activity schedules, and meeting each other in the Gryffindor bathrooms past curfew. He knows because Draco kept Harry’s big secret and doesn’t even tease him for it. 

Harry is sure that if he told Ron or Hermione that he ran away from home, they’d freak out and call him crazy. They don’t understand wanting to escape home, and Draco does. 

So Draco doesn’t need to say anything, Harry knows how he feels, and Harry feels the same!

Draco ties off another daisy’s stem, the fifth in his DIY flower crown that he’s making for Hermione. Or perhaps it’s for Pansy. Harry finds the will to sit down in the grass across from Draco and stop shaking his limbs like a chihuahua. He speaks calmly and slowly, “SOooOooo? Jegulus?”

Based on Draco’s sharp huff, Harry doesn’t sound as calm as he intended. Oops.

Draco, on the other hand, sounds icy cool: “As I’ve already explained to you, Harry, when we walked into the Nurse’s Cabin, Regulus and James jumped away from each other. That doesn’t bode well for their so-called romance.”

“Well that’s only cause Sirius was with you and Regulus probably doesn’t want his sibling to know he loves their best friend,” Harry explains easily. 

“Or,” Draco cuts in. “They just don’t like each other. In fact, maybe they despise each other.”

As Draco plucks another daisy, Harry’s mind jumps around like a frog, imagining James and Regulus in love, and then James and Regulus in hate. 

It was the Best News Ever when Harry walkie-talked Prongs and discovered that he was kidnapping Regulus for Draco’s cabin prize, Kidnap Your Counselor. Harry’s cabin prize was much less dangerous, though a ton of fun—Marlene and Dorcas gave them makeovers!

“Look, Harry,” Draco begins, his face all stern and mature. “I just think you’re getting your hopes up when they don’t even like—”

“Why are you being so negative!” Harry blurts. 

“I’m being realistic.”

“No, you’re being cy-ni-cal,” Harry says the word with pride. Sirius taught him the difference between optimism and cynicism the other day, and Harry repeated the words a hundred times so he could show off to Draco. 

Only Draco doesn’t look impressed. Actually, he looks sad.

Harry can’t blame Draco for being a Debby downer. Before this summer, Harry thought the same about fairytales and happily ever afters. The thing about Hogwarts though is that it makes the impossible happen. Dreams, Harry’s dreams, come true. 

Love stories too. 

Soon Harry will show Draco that true love exists. That unlike both of their parents’ stupid examples, marriage doesn’t have to end in pain. At least, Harry really really reallyyy hopes that’s the case. 

“Ok why don’t we focus on Operation Siriemus instead of Jegulus for now,” Harry tries to lift the mood. 

Draco blinks. “We’re not calling them Siriemus.”

“Remius?”

“No.”

“Okay, what about their last names…uhm…Blupin?”

Before Draco can answer, Mary (cool hair, dark skin that sparkles gold in the sun, mischievous smile) walks over. “You two ready?”

Harry stands up immediately, desperate to finally see the infamous Giant Swing in action. He spots Ron in a harness across the field, dangling on one long, thick wire, another rope tied to his back straps. Below him, Pansy and Hermione are struggling to collapse the ladder he used to climb up. Harry giggles into his hand. Somehow, he convinced Hermione, Ron, Draco, and even Pansy to sign up for the Giant Swing Activity this afternoon. So far, Hermione and Pansy have bickered without break, and even Mary—Mary who Harry is 1000% sure can do anything she wants to—can’t stop them. 

“Alright, you two,” Mary calls out. “Set the ladder down and come help us pull!”

The girls don’t quit their glares but they do fall in line, stepping in front of Draco and Harry. They all have to pull the rope to help Ron get to the tippy top of the long wire running between two big brown-red trees, and then snap, they let go and Ron goes soaring!

Ron’s no stranger to flying. Just last week their cabin climbed onto the Big Zip with brooms and flew over Hogwarts like real wizards. Lily helped Sirius set the Cabin Adventure up, and she warned them all that the first second would be super scary, and then BAM, it would feel magical. 

She was right!

There’s magic at Hogwarts, at least that’s what Dumbledore says, and Harry really likes Dumbledore. He took Harry’s cabin stargazing the other night and pointed out the stars in the sky, including Regulus, which made Sirius smile so wide Harry thought her face would split in two. Sirius’s star wasn’t visible, to Harry’s deep disappointment, but then Luna found a glow-in-the-dark pen and doodled all over Sirius’s arms so he could glow like their brother in the night sky. 

See? Magic. 

Harry picks up the rope, already buzzing with excitement for Ron. Draco is quiet when he takes the place behind him, his eyes focused on Ron dangling in the air as if he’s worried about him. Before Harry can say how super sweet that is but assure Draco that Mary would never ever ever let Ron get hurt, Pansy snaps:

“I want to be in the front, Granger. Move aside.”

“No!” Hermione scoffs, stepping in front of Pansy and gripping the rope tightly. 

“I’m stronger.”

“That’s such a lie,” Hermione’s voice is sharp. 

Luckily, Mary saves the day: “How about we take turns starting in the front. Pansy you get the first round, and then Hermione will get the next.”

They both shrug with scrunched noses. 

When Mary shouts go, the four of them begin to pull, pull, pulllllll, until Ron is tilted to the side like Superman, as high as the rope will allow him. 

“One,” they chant. “Two…Three!” 

When the rope snaps, Ron wooshes to the other side, swinging over their heads and across the fields like a flying squirrel or even an acrobatic monkey!

“Go, Ron!!!” Harry yells. 

In response, Ron lets out a deafening shriek.

Hermione smiles. “Ron’s got a great scream.”

“Totally,” Hary agrees. 

He turns around to find Draco back on the grass, attention returned to the daisy he crown he was making. Pansy plops beside him, the movement fluid and graceful like a ballerina. 

“Come on!” Harry tugs Hermione over to them. 

Ron’s echoing shouts float in the air around them as Harry and Hermione sit across from Draco and Pansy. 

“What did you do?” Pansy says in a biting voice. But this time, she isn’t glaring at Hermione. She’s looking at Harry. 

“ME?” Harry whispers. “I don’t know!”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Stop it, Pansy. I’m fine.”

“You clearly hurt Dray’s feelings—”

“I don’t have feelings,” Draco interrupts.

Hermione looks at Harry with concern, and Harry wants to dig a hole in the grass and hide because he doesn’t know what went wrong and what he did and how he can fix it and oh no he doesn’t want Draco upset he wants Draco happy and—

“Are you still worried about the bees?” Hermione says to Draco. “Because Barty promised us that the second hive was going to be alright, we just have to give them some time to adjust to the new queen.”

Draco’s eyes flick up to Hermione’s. “Barty’s very skilled, I’m not concerned that he will fail the hive.”

“Good.” Hermione smiles and Harry wishes he can smile too, but whatever bee bond Hermione and Draco have now, he’s not a part of it. It makes him feel a little left out, but he’s glad that his friends are all getting along. Well, almost. 

Pansy is watching Harry like a hawk—no like a panther—no like a snake! And oh boy, Harry doesn’t feel very good. She’s real scary the way her eyes and lips twitch in anger. 

“Seriously, Pans, it’s fine,” Draco mumbles. 

“All you Gryffindors suck,” Pansy declares and Hermione stiffens. Pansy then proceeds to list every Gryffindor and why they are all less than mediocre, if not “reprehensible”, which is a word Harry doesn’t know and probably doesn’t want to learn. 

Harry tries to listen to Pansy, his mom would want him to listen, but he’s too distracted by the twitch of Draco’s hands on his unfinished flower crown and the strange dim over his pretty eyes. Harry has upset him, hasn’t he? What did he say? Something about being cynical…

“And Hermione!” Pansy scowls. “Don’t get me started on you, Granger. First, you nearly scare my horse to death in Equestrian—”

“It was an accident!”

“Then you cheat in the canoe race—”

“I won fair and square.”

“Then you break the wooden figurine of a pegasus that I took hours to sculpt—”

“That wasn’t me!”

“And yesterday you tried to poison me on the camp hike—”

“The berry wasn’t poisonous!”

Draco speaks without looking up: “Both of you stop or I’m not making either of you a flower crown.”

They snap their mouths shut and return to a silent glare-off, the kind of deep pauses made for evil villains in action movies. They’ve not liked each other since the first day of camp, and neither Harry nor Draco have understood why. Actually, Harry thinks they’d get along fabulously if they stopped all the competition and glares. 

Harry’s head aches from turning side to side to watch Hermione and Pansy argue, but now his mouth catches up to his head, and he tries to defend his friend:

“Hermione is the best, I don’t think you’re being very fair, Pansy.”

“No, not another word from you, Dursley,” Pansy cuts Harry off. “Whatever you said to Draco you should apologize.”

Harry opens his mouth to immediately do so, but then Ron is running up to them, eyes wide with amazement and Harry gets terribly distracted. After all, Ron just swung across the sky!

******

Back home, Harry used to play a game with himself to pass the time. Hide and seek—only he was hiding, and he didn’t want his family to find him. It’s a fairly fun game, given that the spots have to be more and more creative with every round. Pantries, attics, showers, the sliver of space under the house, the cleaning closet, under Dudley’s bed, the coat rack…

In the end, his mom would always find him and make him feel guilty for hiding cause she got so worried. And Harry would always feel bad cause it wasn’t her he was hiding from. 

At Hogwarts, Harry hasn’t had to hide ONCE. Camp doesn’t have any scary dads or mean brothers. No worried moms either. Just a bunch of awesome counselors and fun campers. 

So when Draco starts hiding, Harry doesn’t even know where to look to find him.

“Blaise!” Harry pants, running up to Draco’s cabinmate playing ping-pong. He sets his paddle down and turns to Harry slowly. 

“What?”

“Where’s Draco?”

“I’m not telling you,” he speaks flatly like Harry’s mom does when she talks to his dad.

“Why??” Harry groans. 

“He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“He—he—what?” Harry gasps. “No!”

“Yes.” Blaise turns around and begins his ping-pong game again. 

Harry’s hands and feet and head feel dizzy and he thinks he might explode. He hates this feeling, he hates this, he hates—

“Draco is my friend!” Harry nearly screams. “And I need to talk to him.”

“It doesn’t even make sense, you two.” Blaise shrugs. “I’ve been friends with Draco since before I could walk, trust me, I know what kind of friends he has.”

Harry’s head falls. It’s true, he and Draco aren’t that alike, to Harry’s deep s a d n e s s. Draco’s wicked smart and beautiful and the entire camp thinks he’s cool. Harry’s…none of those things. He’s loud and “uncouth” and he’s got cool friends, for sureeee, but he’s more strange than anything. 

And that’s alright, Harry understands now. Luna’s strange—and she’s totally awesome. And Sirius? They’re the weirdest thing ever and Harry loves his counselor so much it’s crazy. 

But the biggest thing that sets Harry and Draco apart? Draco wants so badly to make his mom happy, and yeah, Harry loves his mom, but he knows happiness isn’t in the cards for her. 

He can make himself happy though. And he’s done that at Hogwarts. 

Thanks to awesome friends like Draco.

“Please?” Harry begs Blaise, his eyes stinging with tears.

Blaise blinks, but before he can say anything, his ping-pong opponent speaks: “He’s with Barty at the farm.”

Harry recognises Millicent, or Millie as Draco calls her. (long hair, scholarship kid like Harry, secretly Draco’s favorite in his cabin).

“But—but Draco hates animals.”

Millie nods. “But he doesn’t hate Barty.”

Harry turns around and finds the clock above the Activities Schedule—ten minutes left until the snack break ends, and the campers go to their final Activity of the day. So Harry sprints. 

Inside the wired fence across from the campfire circle are four goats and ten chickens, the camp’s miniature farm. Barty is sitting beside Draco on the dirt and hay, the two of them watching the animals as they whisper to each other. 

As Harry runs as fast as lIghTNinG, he worries that they’re talking about him, the way that his mom and dad talk about him when he disappoints them or gets into trouble or fails one of mom’s math tests. It’s not his fault numbers are so confusing!

“Draco,” Harry pants, running up to the gate. “What’s wrong?”

Draco turns around and sighs. “Go away, I’m talking to Barty.”

But Barty stands up and shoots a knowing glance at Draco. “I think you two should talk actually.” He comes forward and unlocks the gate for Harry, helping him past the goats sniffing his hands for food. Then he leaves the two of them in there, just two campers and some goats and chickens. 

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” Barty says with a secret smile.

“He’s so stupid,” Draco mutters. 

“Hey, Barty’s great!”

“Yeah, I thought so too. Until now.”

Harry shifts his weight on his feet, looking around at the goats instead of Draco’s icy stare. “You really don’t wanna talk to me?”

“I’m just having a bad day,” Draco huffs. 

Harry rushes forward and sits beside him on the ground. “I called you cy-ni-cal. I’m sorry.”

Draco looks at his hands in his lap. “You’re not wrong though. I am cynical, and I have reason to be.”

“Well you’re always right so I have to agree,” Harry whispers. He searches Draco’s face, thinking hard about what he can do to make him smile.

“Fine,” Draco snaps. “I’ll tell you if you just stop looking at me like Bambi. My mom wrote to me…she said the divorce is almost finalized.”

“But—” Harry thinks really hard before he speaks, so he doesn’t hurt Draco’s feelings again. “But I thought you were alright with your mom and dad splitting?” 

“I am!” Draco looks up. His eyes fall on a goat and he shudders, looking back down. “I am it’s just—it means that all of it is over. My life at that house, with my father and the rest of my family. I’mhappy to be rid of them but still…”

“It’s still hard,” Harry says. 

“Yeah. Stupid, I know.”

“You’re definitely not stupid, Draco dramatic pause Malfoy. And you know it!”

Draco’s lips curve up. “You’re right, I’m so not stupid. I’m rather clever.”

Harry nods with enthusiasm. 

“But I am pessimistic,” Draco sighs. “I don’t mean to ruin all your hopes and plans with Jegulus and…”

“Siriumeus?” Harry supplies helpfully. 

“How about…” Draco squeezes his eyes shut, his thinking face sharp which makes Harry really excited because Draco’s thoughts are always legendary. “Wolfstar?”

“Wolf star,” Harry repeats. 

“Lupin means wolf-like in Latin,” Draco says because he knows everything. “And Sirius is a star, but you knew that.”

“But Sirius isn’t visible right now!” Harry is so glad that Dumbledore taught him this, he likes being able to show off to Draco. “You’re super bright though.”

Draco turns to Harry. “My constellation, you mean?”

“Yeah! It’s my absolute favorite.”

Something pink crawls across Draco’s cheeks, and he looks at the goats of all things. “Well, anyways, sorry about being so...me about Wolfstar and Jegulus”

“Why would you apologize? I like you just the way you are!” 

Draco stammers, “But—I keep doing the wrong thing and I’m—I’m so negative.”

“And I’m so positive.” Harry shrugs. “We balance each other out. A perfect pair. Honestly, we were meant to be best friends.”

Draco’s quiet for a long second, so l o n g that Harry worries he might have fallen asleep. But no, he’s just looking at Harry with some strange concern like Harry grew a tail or horns like the goats. 

“We’re best friends?”

“Friends forever,” Harry confirms. 

“Oh.”

“Alright!” Barty calls out, leaning on the edge of the gate. “How are we feeling?”

“Great!” Harry answers. Draco just rolls his eyes. 

“Come on, time for the next Activity. Draco’s gotta perfect his performance for the talent show.” Barty’s smile is super teasing, but Harry’s distracted by the new information. 

“You’re doing the talent show?!” 

Draco nods. “My mom’s coming for parents' weekend, of course, I am.”

Harry’s mouth twists in thought. Of course, his parents aren’t coming, thank goodness. They don’t even know he’s at Hogwarts! But if Draco’s going to perform then Harry has to perform too. 

“Can we do something together?” Harry asks. 

Draco frowns. “I’m a solo performer.”

At Harry’s expression, Draco adds, “But I’ll help you figure out what you’re going to do.”

“You’re the best!” Harry pulls Draco into a hug, and when he lets go, Draco is all pink again. 

When Harry asks why, Draco blames the chickens. 

Barty only laughs and leads them out of the farm. 

******

Figuring out Harry’s talent show act is hard. No, more than hard, it’s impossible! Harry’s just not talented, apparently. 

First, he tries aerial silks with Regulus, but he can barely hold onto the fabric without sliding down like a banana peel. His other attempts with circus acts go just as poorly, hitting Gilderoy in the face with a diabolo (much to Sirius’ delight for some reason) and ripping a hole in the puppet Pandora helped him sew. 

Draco attends all the Activities with Harry—he’s such a good friend and keeps encouraging Harry despite his spectacular failures. Even Pansy and Hermione make a temporary truce when Harry goes to Equestrian and Lily tries to teach him to ride a horse. 

That doesn’t go well, of course, and he ends up in the Nurse’s Cabin pretty quickly. 

It’s there, sitting with Dr. Moony on the sticky bed, that Harry gives up. 

“You know you’re the camper that I’ve seen the most this summer,” Remus says, knocking Harry’s shoulder. 

“At least I’m talented at injury.”

“Hey,” Remus says gently. “I’m lucky that I get to see you so often. And you’ll figure out what your thing is. You just have to be patient.”

“But the talent show is this weekend, Dr. Moony!” Harry blows out a breath, his hair fluttering over his eyes. “I guess I’m meant to be an audience member rather than a star.”

Draco, on the other hand, is a whole constellation. He’s so much more than one star!

“Well, there’s no shame in that. I’ve got terrible stage fright and I’m a mess at public speaking,” Remus admits. 

Harry sees his opportunity and looks at Remus straight in the eye. “But Sirius says you’re the most talented human ever.” The funny thing is! Harry’s not even lying—Sirius has totally said that about his Moon, among other glowing compliments.

By Remus’s furious blink and stammering, Harry takes it as a win for Operation Wolfstar. He jumps off the bed and fumbles in his backpack for his walkie-talkie.

“Prongs?” Harry speaks into their special channel. 

“Hi bud!” James’s voice crackles. “Everything okay?”

“I need your help. What is the most impressive thing I could do for the talent show?” 

James’s voice is loud and proud when he answers, “I’ve just the thing.”

******

“And now duck!” James calls out and Harry bends his knees, tucking his head in. After James’s foam sword darts over him, he shoots back up, holding his own foam sword steady. 

Harry triple-checks that his grip is strong and stance is wide, just as James taught him. 

“On my right,” James says and Harry thrusts his foam sword to the left. 

“Good! Now left ankle—” 

Harry sweeps and James jumps. 

“And grand finale, right into the heart.” 

This is Harry’s favorite part when he drives the foam into James’s chest and he performs a dramatic death, stumbling to the ground like a real actor. Only when Harry spins into the hit, his feet stumble and he’s the one f a l l i n g to the ground. 

“Ow.” His funny bone throbs and his vision spins. 

“Oh, Harry!” James kneels next to him. “You alright?” 

Harry hides his face in the dirt. Stage fighting was his last option for the talent show, and even though James is an awesome teacher, they haven’t made it past the foam props to the real swords. 

“I suck.”

“You do not suck.”

“I totally suck, Prongs.” Harry crawls up so he’s sitting on his heels, glaring at the ground that so traitorously made him fall. They’ve been practicing sword fighting for like forever and the talent show is in two days. Two days! 

So Harry definitely sucks. 

“I’m never gonna be talented like Draco.” Harry sniffs as he crisscrosses his legs.

James tsks and sits beside him. They’re both quiet for a couple seconds, and then James says: “I’m going to tell you something but you have to pinky promise that you won’t laugh.” 

Harry holds up his pinky, he knows that the sacred promise is like an unbreakable vow. Besides, he’d never ever disappoint James—or at least he really doesn’t want to. Somehow he lets down his parents all the time and he doesn’t mean to do that.

“So my first summer here,” James begins after their pinkies twist. “All of my friends signed up for the talent show.”

“Even Wormtail?” Though the campers barely see Peter cause he’s so busy fixing and building and being totally rad, Harry has heard the craziest stories from Sirius about Peter’s mastermind pranks. He really wants to talk to Peter but he can never work up the courage. 

“Yeah, Wormtail too. He did fire poi—”

“Wait he did fire poi his first summer!” Harry guffaws. Fire poi is superrrr hard and the counselors only let you try if you pass a test, which even the oldest campers struggle with. 

“That’s our Pete,” James says fondly. “Lily played the flute and of course, she got a standing ovation.”

Harry nods in understanding. He often feels the urge to give Lily a standing ovation she’s so awesome.

“Sirius did a duet with—“ James cuts off. “That doesn’t matter. And I—well I tried to do the aerial silks.”

“And?”

“I got stuck!” James laughs.

“No way.”

“Yes way. I was barely off the ground but I somehow managed to tangle myself up upside down.”

Harry squints. “I don't believe you.”

“Well believe it. There’s even photo evidence.” James sighs. “Never did the aerial silks again. Too embarrassed, even now.”

Harry straightens, sensing another matchmaking opportunity. “You know…Regulus is a great teacher, I mean he couldn’t teach me but that’s only cause I’m super clumsy.”

“I am too.” James ruffles Harry’s hair.

“AND Regulus is always talking about how great you are and how much he wishes you could spend more time together…” 

Normally Harry would feel a little bad for lying to Prongs, but he’s like 99.9% sure that Regulus does want to spend more time with James, so it’s more of a half-truth, and Draco says that sometimes those are necessary. Harry thinks so too!

“Me and Reggie are great friends,” is all James says in response.

Harry blows out a breath, looking at his shoes in defeat.

“Even if you don’t find your thing for this talent show,” James squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “I know you will for the next. You’re amazing, Harry. Give yourself some time.”

Harry scrunches up his nose. “I’m not amazing like Draco is.”

“Draco is very awesome,” James agrees. “But you, Harry Dursley, you’re your own special kind of fantastic.”

Harry bites down on his lip because he feels like he might just c r y here. James is so nice. So much nicer than Harry’s family.

“I don’t know why I even care so much, it’s not like my parents are coming.”

“Why not?”

Harry straightens, he’s not supposed to talk about this. This is a big secret! James can definitely not know his parents don’t know he’s here. “Ummm they’re just busy or something.”

“I’m sorry, bud. But Lily, Sirius, and all the other counselors we’ll be here for you. Don’t worry, you’re going to have fun this parent’s weekend, I’ll make sure of it.”

And maybe he shouldn’t, his mom would definitely say he shouldn’t, but Harry finds himself telling the unabashed, awful truth: “I wish you were my dad, Prongs.”

James leans back, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Then he sucks in a breath and asks to hug Harry. 

Harry launches into James’s arms and even though he sucks and this day sucks, and his real dad definitely sucks, he feels good tucked up against James’s chest. He feels magic.

******

When Draco finds Harry that night in the Gryffindor bathrooms, he takes one look at Harry’s face and blurts:

“What did I do?”

Harry sighs. “You always ask that when you haven’t done anything wrong!”

“You’re certain?”

Harry makes sure his voice is firm. “Yes.”

There’s a long pause where Draco is frozen like an ice cube, then he melts, his shoulders slumping with relief. “So then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong! This is my thinking face.” 

Draco clasps his hands in front of him. “You’re…thinking? I’m officially terrified.”

Harry sticks out his tongue and moves to stand up, his muscles sore from all the stage combat and general talent show FAILURES. He pushes the sorry and dark thoughts out of his mind and focuses on his latest plan:

“Where do you think they store old camp photos?”

“Lily probably has some,” Draco guesses. “Maybe in the Lodge? Definitely in Dumbledore’s house.”

“Yes!” Harry exclaims. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

“Care to share what’s going on up there?” Draco gestures to Harry’s brain, his expression amused and exasperated. 

Harry turns to the mirror, putting on his best Sirius smirk. “Tonight we’re going to break into Dumbledore’s office.”

It makes Harry’s body feel warm and floaty, his smile broad and blinding, that Draco comes along with him without hesitation. He doesn’t even ask why they’re breaking and entering into the Camp Director’s home. Instead, Draco dramatic pause Malfoy picks the back door lock for Harry and sneaks them in like Robin Hood Bandits. 

They tip-toe across the room full of books, and to Draco’s great horror, animal-skin rugs. Harry really hopes that they’re fake! When they slide across the wooden floors, down the hallway, Draco points to a door and gestures something complicated and pretty, which Harry doesn’t understand one bit of. 

“What?” he mouths. 

With a silent sigh, Draco steps forward and opens the door. 

When they’re both safely inside the room, door shut behind them, Draco whispers: “This has to be Dumbledore’s office.”

Harry bounces on his heels, eyes skipping over the framed photos of campers on the walls, the dark wood desk, and the messy piles of papers on top. “Uhm where should we look?”

Draco doesn’t answer, walking across the office to a file cabinet perched next to Dumbledore’s desk. He pulls the drawer open and turns to Harry, a silent question in his eyes.

“We’re looking for a photo from the Marauders’ first summer.”

Draco’s brows furrow, his doll face squishing like a raisin. 

“From their talent show,” Harry adds. “To be specific.”

Then Draco nods, his gray-blue eyes softening, not so much as questioning Harry’s sanity, which is sorta strange cause he does that a lot. When Draco leans down and inspects the labeled files, Harry can’t help but explain:

“Prongs said that he messed up his first talent show. And I—” Harry squeezes his hands open and closed. “You know how adults are always lying to make us feel better?”

Draco pauses and looks over his shoulder. “It’s a vile habit.”

“Right! So I just need to see if James is…you know…vile.”

With a hum of approval, Draco spreads open a yellow-orange file labeled 2000s. Harry peers over his shoulder and helps flip through the mess of polaroids and print-outs from summers past, most of the photos fuzzy. 

“Ah!” Harry points to a photo of a blur of fire flying over Peter’s head. “We must be close.”

Draco picks up the next few photos, one of a really young Lily with two pigtails and a silver flute, and the other of James on the aerial silks, his head red from hanging upside down. 

“He didn’t lie,” Harry lets out a long breath. 

Not for the first time that day, Harry feels the urge to cry. The feeling is so loud, so big, that he can’t stop the tears from climbing up his eyeballs and running down his face.

“What—I thought this was good news?” Draco says in a panicked voice. 

“It is!” Harry sniffles. “I’m just sad that—that it’s already the middle of the summer and I only have a month left with Prongs, and all the other counselors, and Hogwarts and—and you.”

Draco’s jaw sets in determination. “You said we were going to be friends forever, were you lying?”

“No, of course not!” Harry sputters. 

“Then you’re being stupid. You’ll still have me when the summer ends.”

That only makes Harry cry harder, only this time he smiles through it. Draco pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. 

“This is good,” Draco says. “You’ve seen me cry and now I’ve seen you cry. We’re even.”

Harry snorts and laughs through some more tears, which makes Draco duck his head with a small smile. 

“Hey…” Draco frowns at the photos he’s holding. “Isn’t this Sirius and—”

Harry looks at the photograph where Sirius is dressed in gold glitter, mouth open as if they were singing. Tucked just behind her is another camper playing guitar, watching Sirius with wide eyes. 

“Omg, that’s Dr. Moony!”

Draco shakes his head. “But Remus didn’t go to Hogwarts.” 

“That’s what I thought too,” Harry agrees. 

The sound of the house’s back door opening and shutting makes them both freeze. “Oh no,” Harry panics. “What are we going to do?”

Luckily, Draco knows what to do: “Hide.”

They jump into action, squeezing under the desk, the darkness and the wide desk posts blocking them from view. 

Footsteps echo outside in the hallway, and Harry grabs Draco’s hand and squeezes and squeezes some more. He really doesn’t want to get in trouble. If Dumbledore gets mad, he might kick them both out of Hogwarts! That would be the worst thing EVER.

“Lily, thank you for meeting me so late. There’s an urgent matter we have to discuss.” 

The office’s door opens and Harry holds his breath, hiding his face in Draco’s shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” Lily’s voice carries into the room. 

Neither of them sits down, but Dumbledore shuts the office door, his tone serious: “The parents are coming tomorrow, we don’t have the time or capacity to handle a crisis.” He takes in a breath. “But I just saw Marlene and Dorcas by Black Lake breaking Rule #13.”

It takes all of Harry’s focus to not gasp in shock and surprise and g l e e. Draco’s eyes find Harry’s in the darkness, his head already shaking as if he knows what Harry is thinking. 

Dorcas and Marlene. Not just Jegulus and Wolfstar but…Marlcas!!!