Disclaimer: Harry Potter, the characters, the concept, etc. does not belong to me, there are no monies being given me for this, and I have no wish to take claims for what I have not done.
If We Should Ever Say Goodbye
Chapter 1
Harry was sitting by the window in Dudley's second bedroom and looking out into the gloom. A thick fog was taking it's residence in Little Whinging that night. The light from the street lamp was flickering and struggling against the incumbent fog, managing only to cast a dim and limited glow that would never quite reach the pavement. Every few minutes, he'd glance down at his watch until finally he stood and laid on his bed with disappointment touching his features. The night being the evening of Harry's birthday, he was naturally expecting something to happen. Hadn't something happened every birthday since he'd turned eleven? Surely Dumbledore should come bumbling along any moment speaking of nonsense and things to do. Dumbledore…Harry felt a pang in his chest. He gave out a sort of snort and smirked at himself. Feeling much like Pavlov's dog, he turned over onto his side and tried to push away the memories that had the impertinence to come bubbling up. How could he forget? He began to gently trace circles in the bed sheet beside him. Before he knew it, he had added a beard and a pointy hat. He turned onto his other side in frustration. With great effort, he pulled up memories unrelated and dwelt on things he hoped might induce sleep.
As the morning light greeted his eyes, he sat up and, putting on his glasses, made to exit his room to use to the loo. Of course, he was fated to be thwarted in this action for he saw out the window what seemed to be a great brownish blob flying ever closer to him. Vision still blurry, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Upon reexamination, and the closer proximity the thing, he saw that it was indeed an owl bearing a letter. Ah yes, the window, still closed. He whisked over to the thing and pushed it open, going over in his mind all the folks he knew who might have such an incredibly large brownish owl…with big ears. He turned to get some owl treats out and when he turned back to greet his new friend, there was no longer anything in the sky…no owl or blob of any sort. And it wasn't in his room. But surely…it had been flying directly towards him. Was it just an ordinary owl? With a tinge of sadness in his heart, he walked to the window and looked around outside to see if maybe the thing hadn't noticed his window was open (stupid bird). Just as he was about to pull his head back in, he saw the owl alight from behind some pagonias around the corner of the house. It no longer had a letter on it's leg.
Harry's eyes went wide for a moment, following the path of the creature heading back over the rooftops to it's destination. With a sudden burst of energy, he grabbed his wand and all but flew out his room, down the stairs, and into the closed patio. There he paused, considering the possibilities. Everything from Mrs. Figg to a gang of rabid death eaters floated through his mind. Well, no matter who it was, he'd either be dead or alive; he'd at least have a chance if he had surprise on his side. Using all the stealth that he could muster, he peeked his eye over the window, just enough to see that no one was standing directly in front of the window. Feeling bold, he crawled to the back door and cracked it open, again, peeking out. Seeing no one, he silently and slowly pushed the door all the way open and crept forward just enough to be able to close the door behind him. Now outside, his eyes wide as saucers and senses on hyper alert, he tip-toed crouched towards the garden lining the back of the house. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a little rustling in the climbing roses. Eyes now wider than ever, he raised his wand and pointed it at the base of the roses. Another rustling and a muffled curse from the bushes and Harry had had enough. "Stupefy!"
The sound of a body hitting earth met his ears and he knew he'd made a success of it. Approaching the climbing roses with wand still raised and trepidation in his heart, he gave a cursory greeting, perhaps simply to know that no one will answer him. His eyes searched intently for signs of a body but saw none until he actually reached the great plant and knelt beside it and looked between it and the wall. There, in a scrunched and obviously most uncomfortable position, was none other than someone under a disillusionment charm. Knowing not what else to do, he began tugging on the body, to pull it out of the nook but the person kept getting snagged on the thorns so he reached in and laboriously kept the plant back from the body as he inched it out.
Sitting exhausted on the grass with a disillusioned person lying next to him, he realized how odd this must look to any neighbors who might be looking at the moment. He grinned in spite of himself. Then the realization struck him - he didn't know if anyone else might be about. What if it were a trap to lead him out of the house and there were ten death eaters lingering near with wands trained. He jumped up and flung (well, lugged) the body onto his back and staggered back into the house with his prisoner, carrying his wand at the ready at all times. This time as he went through the house, he was greeted with the figure of his Aunt Petunia standing in the kitchen, apron on, spatula in hand, staring horrified at the sight before her. For a good moment, the two stood facing each other, almost unwilling to accept what they saw. Harry was quicker on the uptake though, and before Petunia could utter a feeble "Vernon," Harry was making his way up the staircase to his room. Though it took him a sight longer than it usually did and he was panting a sight more than he usually was, he labored his way to his room before Petunia had given the alarm. Harry practically stumbled to his bed and plopped the being down upon it quite ingloriously. People don't stay stupefied forever so he cast a binding spell and shuffled through the pockets, finding a letter, a couple of parchments, a roll of muggle money, and a wand. Walking to the other side of his room, he placed the wand and the parchments on a bureau and looked through the letter. It was extremely short.
Don't think you can hide forever in a garden. Speak to him or disappear.
-Godfather
"Speak to him or disappear?" Harry mumbled and glanced up at the body lying prone on his bed. "Don't think you can hide forever in a garden? Good lord, how long has he been there?" He took a look at the other parchments upon which were written a couple of names and general locations. No one he recognized but the places were kind of odd…Ardurnes, Ronan, Aberffraw, Margam Abbey. "Was he doing muggle research? …In my garden?" Harry walked over to the bed and decided there was no way he could wait for an Order member to come and help him, he wanted to know who this was now. Thinking better of it, he sat down and wrote a brief note to Prof. McGonagall explaining the situation and asking for her presence at Privet Drive if possible. Having perused the note and found it to his satisfaction, he released Hedwig from her cage and tied the note to her leg. "Ok Hedwig, this is to go to Professor McGonagall, understand? A response is not necessary but it's very important that she gets it immediately. I'm trusting you here, girl." Hedwig puffed herself up importantly and, wiggling her tail feathers, took off on her errand. Harry turned back to his prisoner and took out his wand, unsure of what step to take. He remembered his relatives though, who were probably going through conniptions downstairs, and set a silencing charm and some simple wards up. Finally, looking down…through…the body, he decided to take the disillusion off him first. Tapping his wand on the fellow's forehead and muttering the incantation Hermione had once taught him (see, he did listen!), the charm fell away from the fellow and for the first time, Harry could see his face. "Malfoy?!" The pale and bloody face of none other than Draco Malfoy was revealed. He seemed wan and his skin stood out from the bed sheets only because it was streaked with crimson lines. Harry hadn't known what he was expecting but his arch-nemesis, strangely, was never and would never have been considered. Anger flared up in him immediately. Had Draco come to kill or capture Harry in an attempt to appease his new 'master'? Was the owl he received this morning full of hidden instructions? He ran back to the bureau and read the letter again. It didn't make sense though, if he considered it that way. He sat down now, and looked from Malfoy to the letter and back again. "Speak to him or disappear. Huh, was the disillusionment charm his way of 'disappearing?' No, he probably wouldn't still be hiding in the garden if he really wanted to do that. Then what? Was he supposed to talk to me? To Voldemort? Some other…person? Why would he meet anybody in my backyard? It's ridiculous, the whole thing! And why would Malfoy have to disappear anyway? It's not like the Order is out after him. Well, not really. Could Voldemort be after him? That doesn't make sense, Draco's 'mission' was accomplished, even if he hadn't done it himself. Surely Snape would protect him too! And he has family, friends, a whole network of people who would surely protect him." Puzzling over Malfoy, Harry wondered if he might remove the body binding curse to ask some questions. It's not like he couldn't handle the fellow, his wand was a safe distance away, Harry's got quick reactions, pretty good in a duel. Sure, why not remove the body binding? And so, Harry followed his ever bold heart and raised his wand over Malfoy's body and clearly spoke "Finite," ready for anything that might occur in the short moments thereafter. However, Malfoy lay just as still as before. Puzzled, Harry leaned over and, unsure really what to do, placed his fingers on Malfoy's neck to check for a pulse. To his great relief, he found one but while staring at his face, Harry noticed for the first time all the scratches from the rose bushes that were covering not only Malfoy's head, but arms and legs as well. Some of them were fairly severe, probably from when he had been stupefied and fallen over. There were a couple around his right eye and Harry couldn't be entirely sure the eye itself wasn't damaged. A sudden guilt washed over him, knowing that many of these cuts were caused by him. Still not all of them were fresh. It seems Malfoy must have been hunkering in the garden for at least a couple of days. Not wishing to attempt the few meager healing spells he knew, he would simply try to wake him up.
"Enervate."
Malfoy gasped and opened his eyes wide before settling them on the figure leaning over him. The sight of Harry nearly made Malfoy faint and Harry had to quickly administer another enervate. Unfortunately, Malfoy did not seem to be taking well to the treatment. In fact, he didn't really seem to be in his right mind. He started shuddering and clutching the sheets, rocking his head from side to side, expelling a high pitched whine, and looking anywhere but at Harry. He wished quite much at this moment that he had waited for McGonagall to arrive. At a loss for anything else to do, he attempted to calm Malfoy enough to get him to talk. He took Malfoy's face into his hands and held it in place and calmly repeated his name to him in low tones.
"Malfoy, Malfoy, listen to me Malfoy, you're going to be alright, everything's under control. Malfoy, relax, let go, come on Malfoy. You know, today looks like it's going to be a beautiful day. The sun is shining bright and clear, not like last night at all with all that fog. You know, you could really use some sun, it's good for you, you know? Vitamin D or something like that. You know, this is the kind of day that's perfect for a picnic. You could bring along a nice novel and sit under an old cedar and catch up with that favorite character of yours. I'll bet…" but Harry was cut off here. Malfoy had stopped squirming a minute before and settled for staring at Harry like he'd grown a second and then a third head and finally said "Stop" in a voice so hushed, it was barely audible.
Harry blinked at Malfoy. "You OK now?"
"What are you doing?" Again, his voice was deathly quiet.
"Just trying to get you out of your little fit. You were having a fit, you know?" Harry removed his hands from Malfoy's face and sat up straight. Malfoy's eyes followed Harry but no words were spoken, he seemed to be deciding what emotion he should settle on that would accurately sum up the experience he had just had. The silence was a very pregnant and awkward one. Under Malfoy's scrutinizing gaze, Harry felt a blush come to his cheeks. He really just wish he could kick Malfoy out of the house and go scrambling for scraps at the breakfast table. Why had he been so stupid? He could have left well enough alone and no one would have been hurt, nothing bad would have happened, and Harry could have some food. Who cares if Malfoy had been living in Aunt Petunia's garden? It didn't even look like it was any the worse for wear. The guy was just having Voldemort troubles. Heck, everyone has Voldemort troubles, who's he to stand in anybody's way of hiding from the git? As all these many sundry other thoughts were passing through Harry's recent escapist mindset, Malfoy had turned his head and was staring out the window with a bored expression. Harry eventually noticed this and took a moment to look closer at Malfoy. Yeah, that cut had gotten into the eye but at least it didn't puncture it, it seemed to have simply scratched it. Malfoy turned his head sharply as he caught Harry's curious face leering over him in the corner of his eye. Harry didn't flinch though, and continued staring at the gory sight.
Malfoy donned a smirk and said "See anything you like, Potter?"
Harry merely scrunched his eyebrows together and said, trying to sound unconcerned, "Your eye is all bloody. Can you see out of it?"
"My …eye? Really?" He looked as if he were about to say something really quite scathing but thought better of it and instead said "What do you care, Potter? Just hurry up and get it over with."
A Puzzled expression passed over Harry's face. "Get what over with?"
Malfoy huffed in exasperation. "Come on Potter, don't tell me you haven't got the Ministry of Magic and a cloud of Dementors waiting out in the hallway to have me executed for being in the Precious One's rose garden."
Harry's went dark for a moment as memories of his Godfather the night he escaped execution in the Hogwarts tower flashed before his eyes. He realized he couldn't let Malfoy think there wasn't some form of backup waiting for Harry just out the door though, so he didn't attempt to disillusion Malfoy.
"Er, no, we would rather hear what you have to say first."
Malfoy's eyes glinted in amusement. "Oh Potter, you shouldn't take yourself so seriously. Send the big boys in and let them do the dirty work." He paused a moment in his speech and looked directly at Harry's eyes. Harry turned away, ever so slightly. Understanding passed into Malfoy's face.
"Is this your room? Merlin, I almost feel sorry for you. What a disgusting little hole. No wonder you tried to murder your Aunt."
Harry felt a twinge of anger. Draco would be a Malfoy to the last.
"I didn't try to kill my Aunt." This wasn't untrue, though Harry knew exactly what Draco was referring to. The summer before his third year he had accidentally inflated his 'Aunt' Marge to a critical point. Why would Malfoy remember something like that anyway? Probably saving it for blackmail, he figured.
"And you're stuck with me. So talk. Why were you out there?" Harry dangled the letter in the air. "Who's the letter from? Who are you supposed to talk to?" Shock flickered on Malfoy's face at the sight of the letter in Harry's hand but quickly faded away into impassivity. "As it clearly states, my godfather sent it to me. He thought I was being indecisive. I was supposed to talk to you, though I'm sure he imagined the circumstances being somewhat different."
"Different? Like last year on the Hogwarts Express when you petrified me and stepped on my nose?"
Malfoy snorted. "As nice as that would be, it would also be contrary to my purpose. See, when you're trying to ingratiate yourself to someone to you treat them differently. It's called sucking up. You know a good deal about it, I'm sure. Though..." Malfoy sat up and looked around the room, "judging from the looks of this place, it doesn't always work."
Harry's face turned a bright red. "Look here, Malfoy..."
"Well, it was nice chatting with you, old boy, but I really must be leaving. Ta!" With this, Malfoy swung his legs over the side of the bed and made to stand up. Harry's eyes lit up and he practically jumped from his seat.
"Wait! No, you can't just leave!"
"Oh? And who's going to stop me, Potter? I know you were fibbing about having backup and I don't plan on staying long enough for some to actually show up." Malfoy stood but before he could get three steps towards the door, he reeled and collapsed.
A/N: Enjoy? Despise? Review! :)