It Started With A Closet. . . A Drarry Fic (No Smut!!!)

Day Nine Part One

Please! Hexa begged the next morning.

No!

We've had lunch and dinner with her, and will continue to do so for your sake, but I am firm about breakfast, Harry said.

Why? Tell me why it's so bad that she knows!

Hexa, I know she's your friend now, but she's not mine, and it's my secret, and so I say no and that's not changing.

Then compromise. No breakfasts with Abigail except Christmas morning, then she and I will sit with you until breaks over for every meal we decide we want to sit together. Unless you don't want either of us to sit with you two, then we'll just sit with each other and no one else.

I think that's a good deal, Draco chimed.

Alright. Christmas morning. Until then, only lunches and dinners.

Thanks, Pronghorn. I seriously mean it. Thank you.

About fifteen minutes later, the trio was sitting at breakfast eating sausage, eggs, pancakes, and, of course, bacon (A/N because unless you're my friend Kenzie, vegan, or vegetarian, there's not way anyone ever can pass up bacon).

"Oh, post is coming," Hexa announced, dipping some sausage into syrup before taking a bite of it.

A few owls flew in, dropped off whatever they were sent to deliver, and left.

Harry looked over the box with a giant number nine on it, wondering what it'd be today.

He unwrapped it and opened the box, pulling out a neatly folded black and white blanket. (A/N Yeah, a blanket. That's how much writer's block I've been having, so IDEAS would be helpful!)

Dear Harry,

Similar to the cover-changing spell on the three journals, this blanket will have any picture imagined on it. The only difference is that I will be the one who chooses whatever the picture should be, instead of you. It also has the heating charm the scarf does. The temperature will change according to how warm you want it to be.

Today's fact is on the blanket in the white letters.

~Anonymous

As he passed the note around, Harry scrambled to unfold the black blanket. In white, the following words were written: It's often the people who don't always show their love for you who love you the most.

After reading the note, Draco read the words on the blanket.

"I wouldn't say 'love' in my case," he commented.

Harry and Hexa laughed.

"So what should we do today?" Hexa asked. "It's not quite cold enough today to snow, so it's sleeting outside, and that's no fun to hang out in, so I suggest something indoor."

"I still haven't gotten that rematch in wizard's chest, Potter," Draco challenged.

"We should do something that includes Hexa," Harry reasoned.

"I'll find something to do. Read or write while sitting next to you."

"Writing?" Draco inquired.

"H-huh?" Hexa said, remembering she hadn't told them about her secret hobby suddenly.

"You never said you liked to write," Draco prompted.

"I, erm, I want to become an author. I didn't tell you guys earlier because I thought you'd laugh at me for being thirteen and actually believing I could do something so . . . you know. . ."