Kipper led Draco and Harry to a dining room that they hadn't used since, forever, as far as Draco could remember. It was the largest dining room in the finished east wing, but Draco only remembered it as a place to be wandered in and out of when he was avoiding his lessons. The white plaster walls had been painted a soft mossy green, and the marble tiles were muted by a large rug Draco had never seen before. Some of the old paintings had even been hung back up around the walls, paintings of landscapes, fields and forests moved by wind and traversed by animals in silence.

Mother had only painted and finished a few of the renovated rooms in her drive to smother all the dark magic in the house, and Draco wondered why she had gone to the trouble for such a pointless place. Draco knew she loved throwing dinner parties, but there weren't going to be any more dinner parties.

Mother stood up from the table and came to greet them, "Good evening, Draco, Mr Potter," she kissed the air beside Harry's cheek before hugging Draco, "I'm pleased you weren't held up too long."

"I'm sorry we kept you waiting," Draco said. He looked his mother over, with her lilac silk dress robes and curled hair, "You look lovely."

Mother smiled, "I wanted tonight to be special. Come, let's sit," she waved them to the end of the table where three places had been laid, looking small and out of place on the long grand table.

Mother sat at the head of the table with an empty seat on either side.

Draco sat across from Harry as dinner appeared, their soup bowls filling in front of them as the rest of the dishes appeared in the space between, a roast in the centre of it all. It was quite a bit more than three or four courses, but after the morning's breakfast, Draco wasn't surprised.

Mother sighed, "Suppy is being overexcitable again."

"She'll calm down once Harry's gone," Draco said.

Harry was looking stiff as a board with nerves, so Draco kicked him.

Harry jumped and glared at him.

Mother cleared her throat before Harry could retaliate. Draco grinned smugly as Mother asked Harry, "How is school going for you, Mr Potter?"

"Err, It's fine. I still feel like I'm catching up with everyone," Harry said.

Draco picked up his soup spoon, nudging Harry under the table to copy him, and said, "The real work of revisions starts when we get back."

"Have you decided which subjects you're going to focus on?" Mother asked, glancing at both of them.

"Potions, of course," Draco said, "Runes and Arithmancy are also very strong subjects for me. I've recently decided I'd like O's in Herbology and History as well."

"What about Charms and Transfiguration?" Mother asked, her brow creasing faintly in concern.

Draco fished around his soup for more barley, "I think I'd be fine having an A or an E in those subjects. They're useful but not as important to me."

"I see," Mother said and asked Harry, "What about you, Mr Potter?"

Harry nearly dropped his spoon, "Could- ah, you call me Harry? Mr Potter is a bit..."

"Harry then."

Harry took a deep breath, "Well, I don't know if I'll try out for the auror's after school but I figured I'd do my best to get O's in all the required subjects just in case."

"That's very sensible," Mother said. She tapped her soup bowl with her wand, sending it back to the kitchen and tapped the plate beneath it to fill it with the next course. "How has school been for the returning Slytherin class?"

Draco protested, "I already told you-"

Mother held up her hand, "I know what you told me, Draco. I'd like to know how it looks from a more... outside perspective."

Harry hesitated and looked at Draco.

Draco shrugged, feeling helpless. He wished he could avoid the conversation altogether, his mother didn't need to be worrying about these things.

Harry stabbed a piece of roasted broccoli, "Uh, there's some name calling, but McGonagall was pretty stern about there being no bullying. So they're just ignored mostly."

"I see," Mother said.

"I told you it was fine. Everything's fine," Draco said.

"I'm going to worry, Draco. I'm afraid that's just part of being a mother," Mother said and took a sip of wine. When she sat her glass down the sound seemed too loud. They ate, and the silence lingered, Harry too nervous to speak, and Draco was too worried to do anything other than repeatedly tell himself that everything would be fine. And Mother, Mother seemed to be deep with thought, fidgeting with her glass, a furrow between her brows.

It seemed like years before she spoke again, "There's something I wish to say to you, Harry," Mother picked up her wine and Draco could see the liquid within trembling from her hand, "I wanted... to apologise for my involvement in..."

Harry froze.

"-in what happened at the ministry in your fifth year. Bella told me children wouldn't be involved, that-that they just needed you to touch a prophecy, nothing more..." Mother pressed her lips together, biting her bottom lip, "I promised myself I wouldn't be involved after that. I wanted to stay neutral... foolish," she said softly and took a sip of wine.

Harry looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and Draco would have loved to join him; unfortunately, they weren't four years old.

"Mother-" Draco tried, "-perhaps this isn't the time-"

"This is important, Draco," Mother said firmly.

"It could be important at an entirely different time say, in six months," Draco said.

Mother gave him a warning look, and Draco settled back into a sulk. She went on, "I wish it could have been different, I wish everything could have been different."

Harry was looking mildly ill and had gone from eating his roast to slowly trying to cover it over with mashed potatoes.

Draco was fairly certain that kicking Harry again would not be the right solution. So he eased his shoe off instead and blindly tried to find Harry's foot under the table, pressing his toe on the top of an ugly squishy trainer. Harry jumped slightly, looking up at Draco from his mess of a plate. Draco slid his foot up Harry's calf a bit until he couldn't reach much further, the table being too wide and formal. Besides which, Draco was fairly certain he knew Harry well enough now, to know that even if he could slide his foot up Harry's inseam, it would not be welcome in their current situation. Not that Draco was particularly interested in dying of shame if his mother were to catch him doing that sort of thing.

Mother straightened in her chair, firmly setting her wine down, "I'm deeply sorry for any and all actions I took against you that caused you suffering in anyway, Harry, and while I don't expect you to forgive me I dearly hope you will not hold any ill will towards Draco for what I have done."

Draco felt himself start to flush, "He wouldn't do that, Mother he's-"

"It's fine, I really- I'm not going to er-" Harry said at the same time, their words stumbling together into an incompressible mess.

Mother held up a hand, and they both went quiet. She said, "I never want to be in the way of my son's happiness in any way ever again. He deserves to be happy."

Draco slumped down in his chair, properly blushing and trying not to look at Harry who also looked completely out of sorts. He could reach further with his foot though, so Draco shifted his foot higher, squeezing his toes around a rather knobbly knee. Draco had always suspected Harry had knobbly knees, he resolved to tease him about them later.

Harry blinked, and relaxed slightly, slipping a hand under the table to squeeze Draco's foot. "It's alright, really," Harry said, "I'm not going to..." his voice faded under Mother's gaze which was a shifting mix of confusion, irritation and concern.

Draco stared. He rarely saw such a blatant show of emotions on his mother's face.

"Draco," Mother said, turning to him, "does- sit up straight- does Hogwarts still not provide any classes in etiquette?"

"No I shan't, and no they don't," Draco said.

The corner of Mother's eye twitched, but her concern had won out, and she turned back to Harry, "Harry, I'm going to tell you this as you will need it with your fame and regular exposure to the press-"

Harry slid a little further down in his own chair, looking grim and resigned to an unwelcome fate.

"-there are several ways one can formally deal with an apology. On the most basic level, you either have to accept or decline the apology," Mother cleared her throat, her tone shifting as she launched into her lesson, "So 'I accept your apology' or 'I do not accept your apology'. Things are usually far more complicated than that so you might also add forgiveness such as 'I accept your apology, but I don't forgive you'," she hesitated, "forgiveness and apologies don't always go together, and you shouldn't feel like they have to."

Draco wanted to groan, he felt all of six years old again, with his mother giving him etiquette lessons. The worst part of it being that before those lessons, mother had been perfect and wonderful in every way, only to turn around and join the mass of horrid tutors always lecturing him and telling him to sit still and focus.

But Harry had relaxed somewhat and was tracing his fingers over Draco's foot as he listened making Draco shiver.

Mother said, "An apology can be as complicated as a contract. As witches and wizards, anything that requires an apology quite often forms a debt and forgiving someone for the sake of politeness can free them of their obligation. Even small debts can be useful."

Draco saw the expression on Harry's face and wiggled his toes, "You don't have to use them blackmail people like my father did, you can do good with them, sway a conservatives vote, get a committee to look at a proposal, that sort of thing."

"Draco," Mother said, "please don't speak about your father in that way."

Draco sighed and looked away.

Mother was quiet for a few seconds before continuing, "Sometimes you might be in company or public, and someone might apologise that you neither want to accept nor forgive. In such a case you might say something like, 'thank you for your apology' or 'I appreciate your apology'. That way you both save face without giving ground. These are just the basics, of course, and not necessarily appropriate for more personal relationships."

Draco nudged Harry, and when he looked up Draco nodded towards his mother with a go on then.

Harry sat up, "Uh..." he took a deep breathe, "I accept your apology and.... and I forgive you, and thank you for apologising, you didn't have to."

"You are very kind," Mother said and smiled. It was a bit forced, but she seemed lighter as well. She clapped her hands, "Let's have something sweet, shall we?"

Dinner was cleared with a few taps of her wand and replaced with large trays of different tarts each small enough to be eaten in a few bites. Harry filled his plate with one of everything. Draco plucked a tart off the tray at random, breaking it in half over his plate and eating it with his hands, partly to annoy his mother and partly because he was tired and didn't care.

Mother sighed, placing three tarts on her plate and taking up her knife and fork to cut them into bite-sized pieces, "I wish I'd talked with you sooner. I didn't realise how incredibly lacking your education was in regards etiquette."

Harry said, "I mean, it's not really the sort of thing you need most of the time. Ministry balls maybe."

Mother stared at him uncomprehendingly and went on, "Most people are not Harry Potter. Regardless of your feelings on the matter, you killed the dark lord, twice in fact, and saved the lives of many people in the process. You are going to receive public attention from all sides, both good and bad for the rest of your life."

Harry grimaced.

"Knowing how to deal with the press, to placate and disseminate information, give interviews and press conferences," Mother listed, looking more and more unsettled as she went on. "And if you're serious about being with Draco, you need to be able to use the press to shield him as much as possible, or they will take the initiative to slander him."

"I'm not really good at talking to reporters," Harry floundered.

Mother's pressed her hand over her mouth as she sat back, "I want Draco to be happy," she said quietly, almost to herself, "but-" she fixed Harry with her gaze, "-Harry, please keep your relationship with Draco secret for now, at least until you've both graduated. It's too dangerous at Hogwarts and Draco has no one to protect him."

"I can protect him. He can protect himself," Harry said.

"Don't be naive," Mother said, her tone surprisingly gentle, "You can't be by his side all the time and, while Draco is more than competent, even he has to let down his guard, to turn his back, even if it's just to sleep."

Harry frowned, and squeezed Draco's foot, "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Draco shrugged because it was true.

Mother said, "I'll owl you with more advice."

"You don't have to do that," Harry protested.

"I can't make you read it," Mother went on as if Harry hadn't spoken, "I hope you will consider what I write anyway. It might be of use to you."

Harry opened his mouth to protest again and slowly wilted in the face of Mother's expression, "...Thank you. That's very kind."

"You're welcome," Mother said primly, eating a small piece of tart, looking regal as a duchess.

Draco broke another tart in half, crumbs tumbling across his plate and catching in his jumper as he ate it.

Mother sighed and deliberately didn't look at him. Which was fine because he knew she was deliberately not looking and because Harry was biting his lips to keep from laughing.

"How have your holidays been, Harry?" Mother asked.

Harry took a second to compose himself before answering, "Good. I stayed at the Weasley's. They've always been very good to me."

Mother nodded, "They are... remarkable people."

Draco's mouth fell open.

"Do pass on my best wishes to them, the next time you see them," Mother said, as she carefully set her silverware down and stood, "I'm going to retire for the evening."

Draco jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over his chair, to hug her before she left.

"I'll see you off in the morning," Mother said after a tight embrace, "Make sure you get to bed at a decent time."

Draco nodded, "I'll try. Good night."

Mother smiled faintly before sweeping out the door with a final, "Good night," to the both of them.

"Did my mother really say that?" Draco asked as soon as he couldn't hear his mother's footsteps, "A good word for the Weasley's?"

"Pretty sure she did," Harry said.

Draco pulled on his shoe and sat on the table, picking up another tart.

Harry helped himself to all the remaining treacle tarts, "Is your mum really going to owl me?"

"Likely entire essays," Draco said.

"Really?" Harry said.

Draco absently brushed crumbs off his fingers, "Mother is very keen on etiquette and the proper way of doing things. Her own upbringing was quite militant about it."

Harry said, "The Blacks drove Sirius and Andromeda away, so that's not too surprising."

"And produced Bellatrix," Draco said with a faint shudder, "I think Mother was the closest they ever got to what they wanted out of their children and ruined the rest."

"Sirius and Andy weren't ruined," Harry said.

"According to their parent's pureblood expectations they were."

"I suppose," Harry said, "They're quite an improvement as far as I'm concerned."

Draco helped himself to one last tart.

"Have you ever met Andromeda?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head.

"She's your aunt," Harry said.

"There were social positions to consider," Draco said, "That's largely why pureblood families look down on the Weasley's you know, because they've never cared about social position. They like to interact with the rabble."

Harry grinned faintly, "I quite like the rabble."

"You are the rabble," Draco said.

Harry snorted. He poked at a half-eaten tart on his plate, "...But would you meet with her now?" he asked.

"I'm entirely certain Andromeda Tonks wouldn't want anything to do with me," Draco said.

"You're not giving her enough credit," Harry said flicking the tart across his plate.

Draco rolled his eyes, "I'm giving her all the credit in the world. Mother and I are beneath her now and not worth the trouble."

Harry stood up and walked around the table, stopping in front of Draco, "You're the only family she has left. Family is worth the trouble."

"Sometimes," Draco said. He hooked his fingers in Harry's belt loops and pulled him closer.

Harry let himself be pulled looking embarrassed, "Why are you so ridiculous?" he asked in exasperation.

"Why are you so shy?" Draco asked.

"I'm working on it." Harry reached out, brushing his thumb against Draco's cheek and then licking it, "Blackberry."

Draco pulled his bottom lip through his teeth and wrapped his legs around the back of Harry's thighs.

"You're covered in crumbs," Harry said.

"Shut up," Draco said.

"Do you always make such a mess?" Harry asked.

Draco glared at him, "You know I don't."

Harry grinned faintly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Draco's mouth, pulling back and resting his forehead against Draco's with a long drawn out sigh.

Draco reached up, cupping Harry's cheeks and feeling his jaw unclench under Draco's fingertips. He slid his hands back through thick black hair, over Harry's neck, the muscles taut, and down over shoulders tensed as tight as a knot of wood.

He knew what he liked to do when things became just too much, study, work, keep too busy to think, until the anxiety passed. He didn't know what Harry would...

"Do you want to go flying?" Draco asked.

Harry leaned back, "It's the middle of the night."

"Half past seven," Draco said.

"Dark and cold," Harry said.

"We're wizards, numpty."

"Still-"

"Luna said you liked to fly," Draco said, "If you wanted to."

Harry took off his glasses and slowly wiped them off with the bottom of his jumper. When he put them back on, he nodded.