"Why isn't he waking up?" Potter demanded. They had gone through the potion smearing process and poured a good hundred millilitres of the potion down Snape's throat.
Draco honestly didn't know. From the potion he had created, Snape should be waking up. In fact, he ought to be bouncing up from the casket, fully rejuvenated and healthy. Right now, he still looked like a rotting skeleton. Draco held his nose as he approached the casket. "I don't see any flesh growing," he said doubtfully.
Potter glared at him. "You screwed up."
"I didn't," Draco protested as he stepped back from the casket. The smell was really too strong to bear. "Maybe the potion was written incorrectly."
Potter snorted. "As if," he said. "Snape wrote it."
"Good point," Draco said glumly. He wasn't sure why he was feeling glum. After all, he had been well recompensed for the past two months. He'd had an interesting time creating the potion. So what if it didn't work out? He wasn't the one who wanted Snape alive again. Mind you, Draco reflected, perhaps it wasn't so bad that the potion didn't work. Potter had been giving the closed casket puppy dog eyes for the past few weeks as the potion was nearing completion. Draco didn't think he could stand Potter shooting those glances towards the real Snape.
"So you must have done something wrong," Potter concluded.
Draco waved the instructions around. "I followed these precisely," he snapped. "I don't know why it didn't work but it most definitely isn't my fault."
"Check it over again."
"I've already read it over hundreds of times," Draco said. "I've even read it backwards but it didn't help. I've double-checked the ingredient list. I even prodded the nightflower to make sure that it was healthy. It spat acid at me." He showed his sleeve to Potter. It had a hole in it.
"Then it should be working," Potter snapped.
"Yes, it should!" Draco exclaimed. "He should be walking around and talking instead of being a rotting corpse."
"Who are you calling a rotting corpse?" a silky voice broke into their conversation.
Draco almost jumped a foot into the air. He spun around and stared at the open casket. His first thought was that a vampire was sitting up from his nightly sleep, but then he realised that it was Snape. "It worked!" he exclaimed. "I told you so, Potter."
Snape was examining himself. "What am I doing in a casket?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. His voice was surprisingly mild given the circumstance and the person, Draco thought. Snape coughed slightly and spat something out of the side of the casket. With a grimace, he climbed out of the casket and dusted off his robes and cape.
"You're alive," Potter breathed out.
"What am I doing in this casket?" Snape repeated, his tone acidic. "I shall not like it if I have to repeat myself again."
That's more like it, Draco thought, hiding a grin. Snape's tone of voice brought back memories of being at Hogwarts. "We just resurrected you," Draco said bluntly. He expected a myriad of expressions to play over Snape's face but instead there was a look of simple understanding. It was as though Snape had expected to be resurrected. Then again, Draco reflected, Snape did write the potions recipe. It stood to bear that he might have expected it to be used on himself at some point.
"I have to say that I'm not surprised at you Potter," Snape said dryly. He looked around slowly, seemingly taking in the entire scene. "This exercise has your mark all over it."
Draco shot Potter a look out of the corner of his eye. Snape definitely didn't sound like he was grateful. In fact, Snape sounded like his usual grumpy, dour self. It was apparent that death hadn't mellowed him out at all. Potter was looking rather upset at the words. With a mental sigh, Draco opened his mouth. "I believe I did help," he said smoothly.
Snape turned towards him and raised an eyebrow. "So you did," he said with a smirk. "I believe I have you to thank, Mr Malfoy. Without you, I surely would have been dead forever."
Potter looked like he was about to have a coronary.
Snape wandered over to the table where they had been preparing the potion. Picking up a vial, he sniffed it. "Very good, Mr Malfoy," he said. "Excellent brewing."
Draco snuck another look at Potter who was turning red in the ears. "Thank you," he said. "But as much as I hate to admit it, Potter did play a smallish role in your resurrection."
Snape waved a dismissive hand. "I know of that letter that Albus sent." There was a sly expression on his face.
"You mean," Potter said slowly, "that Dumbledore didn't send the letter?"
"Of course not," Snape said. "Did you think that he would want you to be dabbling around in necromancy? It's illegal."
Potter looked furious. "But, but..." he spluttered.
Snape sneered. "Don't tell me you thought that I would swoon at your good deed?"
The look on Potter's face said it all.
Snape shook his head with a pitying expression on his face. "Now that I'm alive, I believe I will have to get my assets unfrozen. There is a lot of paperwork associated with coming back to life." He spun around and began to walk away.
"There are wards up," Draco called after him. "You can't leave that way."
"Then it is fortunate that I was buried with my wand," Snape said, his voice floating back to them. There was a note in his voice that seemed almost satisfied. Draco could hear the smirk in his tone.
"I told you so," Draco said. He couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice as he watched Snape Apparate away with a swirl of his robes. "Now what was the point of bringing him back to life?"
Potter glared at him. "He deserved to be alive and recognised for his achievements," he said mutinously.
Draco shrugged. He was glad Snape was alive again. It seemed that despite all of his worries, the potion had worked. There were no nasty side-effects like skeletons walking the streets of Hogsmeade. Those were always difficult to clean up after. Still, he couldn't quite understand why Potter was so eager for this and why Potter seemed so upset. "I expect the last deposit to be in my account by tonight," he said. Reaching over, Draco picked up his wand.
It felt unaccountably cold in his fingers. This was odd because normally, wands were warm to the touch. They were tuned to a specific witch or wizard and felt almost alive. Draco turned the wand over in his fingers. It just felt like a piece of wood. He shivered slightly but shrugged it off. It was nothing. It had to be nothing.
"Goodbye Potter," he said as he prepared to Apparate away.
Potter nodded.
Draco closed his eyes but nothing seemed to happen. He frowned and concentrated but when he peeked out of the corner of his eyes, he was still in Potter's cold dark dungeon. "Do you have wards up?" he asked slowly.
"No," Potter said, shaking his head. "Why would I have put them up? You got out of here fine yesterday."
This was true. Except, the only other explanation for Draco's inability to Apparate was far less palatable. "Are you positive?"
Potter looked annoyed. "Malfoy, wards don't just put themselves up. I didn't put any up. Full stop."
Draco took a deep breath. "Well then," he said in a shaky voice, "I believe we have a problem. There was a side effect to that potion after all. I seem to have lost my magic." His knees felt weak at the words. What use was a Malfoy without his magic? It was unthinkable. Inconceivable! Except, now it had happened.
Potter stared. "You what?"
"I've lost my magic," Draco said stiffly. He waved his wand and muttered, "Accio Potter's robes."
Potter flinched but his robes remained where they were.
"See?"
"What if that had worked?" Potter demanded. "You could have tried to summon something else. Like that knife over there."
"That could have accidentally come at me blade first," Draco pointed out logically. "I could have been stabbed. Your robes are soft and therefore can't stab me." He carefully stepped over and sat down on the edge of the tomb. He wasn't going to embarrass himself further by falling down in front of Potter.
"Maybe you're just tired," Potter concluded.
There was an edge in his voice that Draco didn't like. Did Potter know something he didn't know? Was Potter hiding something? Draco looked at Potter suspiciously. He didn't look like he was hiding something, but you could never tell sometimes. It was entirely possible that Potter was a master at masking his facial expressions and that this was all a secret ploy to divest Draco of his magical powers. Hundreds of years ago, one enterprising wizard had come up with the idea that removing a witch or wizard's magical powers was the best way of punishment. They had revisited that idea after being burnt at the stake by a group of their enraged co-workers. It was quite possibly the most heinous crime in the wizarding world. Draco shuddered.
"Go home and rest," Potter said.
"I'd love to but somehow I seem to be unable to Apparate out of here," Draco said sarcastically. "You were the person who decided to make it impossible to get out of here without magic." In fact, Draco realised with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he couldn't even get Potter to Apparate him out. The wards were tweaked to sense that and to disallow it.
It was obvious from the expression on Potter's face that he was thinking of the same thing. "You'll just have to stay here," he said, after a short pause. "There's a bed in the other room."
"I don't want to stay in your dungeon, Potter!" Draco exclaimed. He frowned. Somehow, those words didn't quite sound right coming out of his mouth.
"Well, you'll have to, won't you," Potter snapped. "I can change the wards but the time delay means that you can't just walk up the stairs and out of here until tomorrow morning."
Draco groaned. Potter really took security to extremes at time. Not even the Dark Lord had put up a time delay system in his wards. Then again, he wasn't sure that the Dark Lord knew how to do that. It seemed that Potter had taken his substantial natural magical energy, coupled with his knowledge of the workings of Muggle technology and devised some fairly ingenious security measures. Of course, the measures could be considered paranoid by your average person. Draco was positive that Mad-Eye Moody would have been salivating at the thought of examining Potter's wards. "Fine," he grumbled.
"The wards should come down automatically in twelve hours," Potter said. "Then you can just walk up those stairs and out the front door."
Draco watched as Potter took out his wand. "Wait," he said, "you're just going to leave me here?" He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.
"I'm just going upstairs," Potter pointed out.
"You're Apparating upstairs," Draco pointed out. "There's no food down here. No water. No toilet!"
Potter stared. "You want me to stay here so I can enjoy the same conditions?"
"Yes!" Draco exclaimed. "It's your fault that I'm down here."
Somehow, he wasn't surprise when Potter just grabbed his wand out of his pocket and vanished.
Draco paced around the dungeon. He hadn't realised how cold and damp it was down here until now. He looked around. There was absolutely nothing he could do for the next eight hours until the wards came down. There was potions making equipment but the ingredients were severely depleted. It was obvious that Potter had built this lab for the sole purpose of bringing Snape back to life. As Draco poked around the cupboards, there only seemed to be a few mouldy bezoars and a sprig of parsley. Very handy if he was being poisoned or if he needed to decorate a fancy dish, but not very useful as a dinner option.
With a sigh, he slumped down on a chair and fiddled with his wand. It just felt like a stick in his fingers. "Accio," he said pointing his wand towards the bezoars, but there was no customary tingle through his forearm, and the bezoars stayed stubbornly still. Irritated, Draco threw his wand across the room and watched it clatter across the stone floor.
"Fuck you, Potter," Draco muttered. It was all Potter's fault. All of this. He wasn't sure what had happened to his magic, but he was sure that he could blame that on Potter as well. It was obviously no coincidence that his magic had vanished almost immediately after they had performed a very dangerous resurrection.
In fact... Draco frowned. Snape had Apparated away before. That was odd. All the scribbled theories in Snape's notebook had indicated a gradual return of magic. He shouldn't have been able to summon a feather much less than Apparate away, which required a significant amount of magic.
A sinking feeling was currently making itself known to Draco's stomach. He was beginning to have a feeling where Snape had got his magic from.
"Fuck," he said again. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck."
Snape had his magic. And from what he remembered of Severus Snape, there was precious little chance he was ever going to get it back. Even if he managed to find Snape, Draco couldn't think of a single way he could get his magic back from him. It wasn't as though he could just march up and ask nicely. And he very much doubted that Potter would be inclined to help him.
There was a sudden sound at the doorway. Draco spun around to see Potter standing there in the shadows. "How long have you been there for?" he asked suspiciously.
"Long enough to realise that you just had some sort of realisation or you enjoy swearing a lot," Potter said mildly. "Also, I've brought you muffins." He held out a plateful of chocolate muffins.
"Oh muffins!" Draco said sarcastically. "Muffins will make everything better." Despite himself, he moved over to take one of the muffins. They were still warm and as he took a bite out of one of them, Draco realised that they were gooey in the middle. They were delicious.
"Nice, aren't they?"
"Mmm," Draco said through bites. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until now.
"Anyway," Potter said, his green eyes serious, "I want to help you. I want to help you get your magic back."
"How noble of you." Draco surreptitiously wiped crumbs away from the corner of his mouth and brushed down his robes. Now that he had no magic, he couldn't afford to get stains on his clothing. He suspected washing his robes would be much harder than simply getting rid of stains by magic.
Potter frowned. "I'm trying to help you."
Draco sneered. "How like a Gryffindor."
"I could just leave my wards up and leave you here," Potter bit out.
Draco smirked. "Now that's more like it. That's more like the Potter I've known for the past few weeks. There's no need to pretend to be so high-and-mighty."
Potter sighed. "You've been through a lot. You're not thinking straight. Have another muffin." He held out the tray.
"Did you get that from an Introduction to Psychology textbook?" Draco demanded. Pansy was into that kind of stuff and he'd heard enough of that psych mumbo-jumbo from her.
"I might have," Potter said, looking sheepish. He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. Sitting down, he crossed his legs. "I'm going to wait down here until the morning with you."
"Oh goody," Draco muttered. In the back of his mind though, he was glad. He didn't want to be in the dungeon all by himself. Although, being with Potter wasn't that much better. He walked over to the table and sat down next to the plate of muffins. "I suppose I'll have another muffin then."
Potter gave him a brief smile. "That's the spirit."
"Finally," Draco grumbled as he walked up the stairs. He'd tried Apparating out again about ten times in the last five hours but to no avail. His magic seemed to have vanished into thin air. He had no doubt that it was currently residing within one Severus Snape.
"I'll find Snape," Potter promised.
Draco looked at him suspiciously. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that Potter sounded guilty and apologetic. "You didn't know that this would cause my magic to disappear, did you?" he demanded.
"No," Potter said, sounding wounded. "Although," he added quietly, "I did wonder why nobody else used this technique. I mean, Snape could have made a lot of money selling this potion."
Draco snorted. "Yeah, I guess having your magic vanish out of you would be a bit of a drawback," he said sarcastically. "You do realise Snape's probably disappeared. You'll probably never be able to find him."
"I will," Potter said firmly. "To help you, of course," he added.
"Uh huh," Draco said faintly. He suspected that Potter had his own ulterior motives for wanting to find Snape and none of these motives had anything to do with wanting to help one Draco Malfoy gain his magic back. "Well, thank you for a most pleasant evening. I'm glad we managed to resurrect one of our professors from Hogwarts who hated you and I'm especially glad that I'm now without magic."
Draco could have sworn that Potter looked like he wanted to punch him in the face. "You're welcome," Potter said tightly. "I'm still going to help you, whether you like it or not. I have friends that I could talk to."
Despite himself, Draco felt a flare of hope. Surely Potter had to know friends who were smart enough to figure this out. Surely somebody like Hermione Granger or one of Potter's multitudes of other friends would be able to help him. Meanwhile, Draco vowed to use every contact he had to try to hunt down Snape. He suspected that he would have more luck than Potter on that note. "You're not going to tell them, are you?" he said, suddenly alarmed.
"Tell them what?"
"That I'm ... you know, without magic," Draco said.
Potter frowned.
"If word gets around that I don't have any more magic, my reputation would be ruined," Draco said slowly and carefully so that as to be sure that Potter absorbed the full ramifications of what he was saying.
"But you already can't find a job," Potter pointed out practically. "And I'm sure you're going to tell Parkinson."
"But that's Pansy," Draco said. "She's different." He narrowed his eyes. "You'll regret it if you go around telling people."
Potter was wise enough not to ask how he was going to regret it now that Draco had no magic. "I won't tell," he said. "I promise. I'm just going to make enquiries."
"You've lost your magic," Pansy repeated, sounding incredulous.
Draco sighed and nodded. That was the fifth time she had repeated that sentence. He gave it five seconds before she was going to repeat it again. He counted silently in his head. Sure enough, as soon as the five seconds were up, Pansy opened her mouth.
"You've lost your magic?"
"Yes," Draco said, with gritted teeth. "It's gone. Poof. Vanished into thin air. And needless to say, it's all Potter's fault."
"Actually," Pansy said, "wouldn't it technically be Snape's fault since he has your magic now?"
Draco scowled. He didn't think she'd heard it when he muttered that part. "Well, I can't exactly go up to him and demand that he give it back," he said. "The way the potion works is that he's being sustained by my magic. It'll kill him, literally, if I take it back. Even if I knew how."
Pansy raised an eyebrow at him.
"And I don't know where he is," Draco admitted sheepishly.
"I thought it would be something like that," Pansy said dryly. "You're usually not so magnanimous."
"Hey!" Draco exclaimed. "I wouldn't just go and deliberately kill Snape."
Pansy didn't look like she believed him.
Draco sighed. "Potter's been in a right snit since Snape vanished," he complained. "You'd think he was the one with a vital part of him missing."
"Maybe he was in love with Snape," Pansy said with a giggle. "Maybe that's why he wanted you to help him bring Snape back?"
Draco was about to open his mouth to laugh but he reconsidered. It actually made some sort of bizarre sense. Potter had been acting rather strangely. And he did have that puppy dog face when he was looking at Snape after Snape had been resurrected. At the time, Draco had chalked it up to some form of hero worship, but now that he was thinking back on it, it could have been some sort of lust. He stifled a laugh.
"See?" Pansy said, smirking. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"
"In a bizarre, completely illogical way, yes, it does make sense."
"So," Pansy said, after a pause. "What are you going to do now?"
Draco shrugged. He really didn't know. When he was a child, his plan for life had involved being rich and possibly joining the Death Eaters. In the past few years, both options had been unceremoniously yanked out from under his feet. All the options he had left involved using his magical powers. Now that they were gone, he was out of options.
Pansy put a hand on his arm. "You could live with me," she said, sounding cautious. "Until you get on your feet that is. You know I mostly spend my time in the Muggle world. There, you won't get reminded about your... affliction."
"You might have run away, but I'm not going to," Draco said tartly. He ignored the hurt look that flitted over Pansy's face. A lot of her family had been either killed or incarcerated during the war and it had changed her. "Besides, I'm not disabled."
"You are, sort of," she said flatly. "Being a Squib is a registered disability."
With dawning horror, Draco realised that she was right. He'd never really thought about it because he had never really thought that he could ever be a Squib. It was something that happened to inferior folk, unlucky folk, but not somebody like Draco Malfoy.
"It's not the end of the world," Pansy said lightly, her eyes serious. "It's not that bad in the Muggle world, I promise. I quite like it."
"I'm a Squib," Draco spluttered. "A Squib!"
"There is nothing wrong with being a Squib," Pansy told him firmly.
Draco stared at her. Sometimes, he wondered if the Muggle world put anything in their drinking water that warped people's minds. "There may be nothing wrong, but I still don't want to be one. I'm going to find Potter," he said decisively. "He's going to fix this. After all, it's his fault." Almost automatically, Draco reached for his wand but as he wrapped his fingers around it, he realised that it wasn't going to work. With irritation, he spun on his heel and walked away.
It took Draco several days, but he finally tracked down where Snape was. He stood in the doorway of Snape's cottage, which happened to be smack bang in the middle of nowhere, and knocked briskly on the door with his useless wand.
The door swung open with a creaking noise. "Oh, it's you," Snape said flatly. "What do you want?"
"My magic back," Draco said bluntly. "You have it. I want it. Please give it back." He tried to crane his neck to see inside but Snape blocked his way.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps that would make sense if I had spent the past few days residing within your head. Given that I haven't, you might need to give me a bit more of the background. And stop doing that, Draco. I'm not going to invite you in."
Draco made an irritated sound. He couldn't help but think that this was probably what Potter and his friends felt like back when they were at Hogwarts. "After your resurrection," he began through gritted teeth, "I suddenly lost my magical powers. I can't help but think that those two events are connected."
He had expected Snape to deny it. He'd expected Snape to feign ignorance. Instead, Snape surprised him. "It most likely was connected," Snape said mildly.
"What?" Draco burst out.
"It was a risk of the potion," Snape said with a smirk. "That was why I was so surprised that you had helped Potter. I would have thought better of you, Draco."
"You could have mentioned it," Draco snapped. "In amongst all of the instructions on how to get venom from a nightflower, you could have mentioned that your potion might suck somebody's magic away!"
"I did," Snape told him. "If you were imbecilic enough to ignore my warning, then that isn't my problem."
"What?"
"I had an entire page on the possible side-effects of the potion."
Draco pulled the notebook out of his robe pocket. He opened it to where the potion was written. "Nothing," he declared. "There's nothing on side-effects."
"It's in the next notebook, you dolt." Snape sounded like he was explaining the mechanics of potions making to first years.
Draco's mouth dropped open. "In the next notebook?" he spluttered. "You couldn't have put a note at the end of this one saying that it wasn't finished? That anybody attempting the potion ought to try to look through the next notebook first?"
Snape snorted. "You're smarter than that, Draco. These notebooks were for my own personal use. I knew that the side effects were listed in the next notebook. Why would I need to write that down?"
And that, Draco reflected, made a sort of sickening sense.
"Anyway," Snape said smoothly, "your magic should return soon. My calculations indicated that there was a 50-50 chance that you would get it back within a month."
Draco blinked and looked up. That sounded positive. "50-50?" he said suspiciously.
"If you don't get your magic back within the month, then the chances of you getting it back exponentially drop. If you don't get your magic back within six months..." Snape shrugged, a small smile playing around his thin lips. "It's likely gone forever."
That was fairly grim news, yet, Draco's heart felt lighter than it had been for days. There was a possibility that this wasn't permanent! He felt like throwing a party! Preferably one that required him to clobber Potter's head in the pretence that it was a piƱata. He'd seen one in a shop with Pansy once. They looked amusing.
"I have the perfect solution!" Potter declared.
Draco was dubious but tried to paste an interested expression onto his face. From slight lifting of Potter's left eyebrow, he suspected that his fake expression of interest was less than effective. "Oh?"
"I have this friend," Potter said slowly. "I think she can help."
"Is this friend a Potions Master?" Draco asked. "Is she some sort of mediwitch?"
"Well, no," Potter admitted.
Draco narrowed his eyes. He suspected that Potter was hedging. "Who is she? Have I heard of her?"
"I'm positive that you know of her," Potter said, his eyes wide and innocent. "She's excellent at what she does."
Draco was very suspicious. He suspected that Potter was attempting to foist somebody like Trelawney on him. A fraud or charlatan. There was no other reason for Potter's furtive expression. Unless, of course, Potter really needed to use the toilet. "Do you need to use the toilet?"
Potter looked startled. "Of course not."
"Well then, spit it out. Who is it? And how much am I going to hate the name?" Draco watched as Potter chewed his bottom lip. It was strangely mesmerising watching Potter's upper teeth worrying that lip, making tiny indentations on it... Draco blinked and looked away. Why did he think that looked strangely endearing? On anybody else, Draco would have thought it an unseemly nervous habit. Why did Potter's frown look so adorable? And why was he suddenly hungry? He really shouldn't have missed lunch.
"It's Luna," Potter said.
Draco's musings flew out of his mind. "Luna Lovegood? Loony Luna? That Luna? You think she can help me?"
"She's not as crazy as she seems," Potter protested.
"Oh good," Draco said sarcastically. "So you mean she's only slightly loony as opposed to several points short of a Quidditch match?"
"She's helped me before," Potter insisted. "You said you would try anything to get your magic back."
Draco opened his mouth and then closed it again. He did say that, didn't he? That was an unfortunate choice of words on his behalf. Mentally, little gnomes inside his head were kicking at the areas of his brain responsible for making that decision. "Fine," he said grumpily. "I'll go, but it won't work."
Potter raised an eyebrow at him. "Now won't you be kicking yourself if it actually does work?"
"No, I won't," Draco said tartly. "I'll be celebrating."
Potter rolled his eyes.
Luna gave him a wide-eyed stare that made Draco take a step back. He bumped into Potter who shoved him forward again. Draco ignored the shiver that slid through his spine at the warmness of Potter's body through the robes. Obviously, he was getting sick. It was magic-withdrawal or something like that.
"I've lost my magic," Draco said. He couldn't believe he was here. More accurately, he couldn't believe that Potter had convinced him to come. What sort of help could she be? Especially since she had named her shop Nincompoops and Nargles? He was quite positive she had got crazier over the years and that was no small feat!
"Well, then, shouldn't you go and find it?" Luna asked, looking puzzled.
It was Draco's turn to stare. "I've tried," he managed to get out. What else could he say to that kind of question? It wasn't as though he had a handbook in his pocket of how to speak to somebody who seemed to spend most of her time with her mind floating around the stratosphere.
"Ah," Luna said sagely, "so it's run away."
"It has not run away," Draco insisted. His magic wouldn't just up and run away. It wouldn't do that to him.
Luna gave him a delighted smile. "So it's back?"
Draco resisted the urge to kneel down and bang his head on the tiled floor. "No, it isn't."
Luna looked over his shoulder at Potter. "He's in denial, isn't he?"
Draco expected Potter to roll his eyes, but to his surprise, Potter simply nodded. It was insane. They were acting as though he was the crazy one. "I'm leaving," he snapped but Potter grabbed him by the arm.
"She can help," Potter insisted.
"Sure," Draco agreed, "if I wanted to make my robes more sparkly, but I sincerely doubt she's going to somehow wave her wand and make my magic return."
Potter stared at him.
"Would you like sparkly robes?" Luna offered with a beatific smile.
Draco stepped backwards hastily. "No, I wouldn't," he said. "I really wouldn't. Thanks, but no." He really didn't know what he would do if Luna decided to take it upon herself to gift him with sparkly robes. He was going through enough already.
Luna looked disappointed. Draco refused to look over at Potter to see what his expression was. He didn't think he could take it if Potter also had a disappointed expression etched onto his face. "I can help you with your magic loss," she told him.
Despite everything, Draco felt his heart leap at the words. "You mean you can return my magic to me?" he asked and then added, "Preferably without harming Snape?"
Potter glared at him.
"I should be able to," Luna said cautiously, sounding serious for the first time in Draco's memory. Her next words, however, dashed his hopes. "Unfortunately, the Nargle is notoriously difficult to catch."
Draco let out a long sigh. "Possibly because it's imaginary?" he suggested.
Luna looked at him with wide eyes. "Just because nobody has found one doesn't mean it's imaginary," she chided him gently. "After all, the Loch Ness Monster isn't imaginary. Incidentally, he isn't a monster either. And neither is Big Foot."
Draco opened his mouth but then shut it again. He didn't know how to respond to that. There was no response to that kind of insanity.
"Nargles are very magical creatures and they have been rumoured to be able to restore a person to peak physical and magical health," Luna told him calmly.
"Oh, good," Draco said, unable to help himself, "an imaginary creature might be able to help me. I feel better already!"
"That's the power of positive thinking," Luna said. "If you think that you have a chance of getting better, then your body is already halfway on the path to healing itself. I suggest that you try to think about your magic, but not how much you're missing. I want you to think that you will get it back. That it's only gone on a holiday.
Draco reflected that the advice was possibly the most inane advice he had ever been given. It was even worse than the time his great aunt Enid had decided to give him advice on the proper attire to wear at a fancy ball. He was four at the time, and there had been absolute silence in the hall when he had turned up in a full length evening gown that was trailing behind him, high heels that were too big for his feet and a delicate rose-pink transparent robe thrown over the top. Aunt Enid had even given him make-up lessons, although she subscribed to the quantity over quality type of charms, it seemed.
"I can see you're thinking positively already," Luna told him.
Potter gave him a suspicious look but didn't say anything.
"Very positively," Draco said blandly. "I'm positively brimming over with positiveness."
Luna beamed and handed him something pink and sparkly. Draco turned it over in his fingers to discover that it was some sort of sweet smelling flower that was covered with glitter. "It's one of my newest inventions," she said proudly. "It's for young girls who enjoy fresh flowers and glitter."
"I'm sure it sells... well," Draco said.
"You'd think so," Luna said sadly, "however, I haven't had a single sale yet. I've resorted to giving them away with other purchases."
Draco wrinkled his nose. "Thank you," he said cautiously, still staring at the flower. He saw Luna giving one to Potter who gave a rather unconvincing facsimile of a smile. "I'm afraid I must be going."
Luna nodded. "I'll keep an eye out for a Nargle."
"Fantastic," Draco said faintly. He started walking towards the door and this time, Potter didn't try to stop him.
Pansy looked as though she was trying very hard not to splutter with laughter and not succeeding particularly well. "She offered you Nargles?"
Draco nodded. "Non-existent Nargles," he said with a sigh. "Nobody except her even believes that they exist! Well, perhaps Potter does, but he's equally crazy. She doesn't know what they look like but claims that she'd know if she ever saw one."
"Certifiable," Pansy agreed.
Draco slumped. He resisted the urge to cradle his head in his hands. "What am I going to do?" he muttered. "No job, no magic. I might as well turn in my wand and call myself a Muggle." He looked over at her plaintively. "Do you know how hard it is to clean up the Muggle way?"
"That might not be a bad idea," Pansy said. "And yes I do know."
He looked up at her suspiciously. Her tone was far too cautious, far too careful to be anything but planned. "What do you mean?"
"I've been in the Muggle world for years," Pansy said. "It's not that bad. You'd like it, I'm sure. I have plenty of contacts and I could get you a job like that." She clicked her fingers.
"No thanks," Draco said wrinkling his nose. "I think I'd rather go with Lovegood's non-existent Nargles."
"Joke all you want," Pansy said, sounding exasperated, "but if your magic doesn't come back then you're going to have no other choice. The wizarding world isn't kind to Squibs."
The words hung in the air darkly, like a rain cloud. Draco knew she was right. The wizarding world definitely wasn't kind to Squibs. It wasn't particularly kind to a host of other people either like werewolves, vampires and Muggle-borns. "Snape said it might come back," Draco said stubbornly.
"I hope so," Pansy said quietly, looking worried.
"I was right!" Draco crowed. He'd had a few too many drinks and usually the first thing to go was his sense of decorum. In any case, the world looked nicer when he was drunk. Less desolate anyway. His situation didn't look that bad with a few shots warming his belly. At least he had his health!
Potter glared at him. "Gloating isn't nice," he snapped.
"You brought Snape back to life for what? A shag? A romp? Some sort of secret illicit romance?"
"It was nothing like that," Potter said stiffly.
"No, of course not," Draco said in a mock-serious tone. "It was a deep meaningful romance. It's just unfortunate that it was so one-sided. Has Snape even talked to you since we brought him back?" He threw his head back as he downed another shot. How many had he drunk? He wasn't sure any more. All he knew was that the little shot glasses lined up on the kitchen bench looked rather blurry and there were a good many of them.
"Yes," Potter said. "He thanked me."
Draco stared. "That was all?"
Potter nodded.
"That ungrateful bastard," Draco declared. "Here I go, giving him the most important part of me, and he doesn't even seem grateful."
Potter stared at him. "You're sounding like a virgin, Malfoy."
"What?"
"You sound like you gave your virginity away to Snape."
Draco wrinkled his nose. "Merlin, no!" he exclaimed. "Can you imagine that? The long hooked nose?" He shuddered and then noticed the expression on Potter's face. "I guess you can," he added quietly.
"I don't even know where he is now," Potter admitted. "He mentioned that he wanted to go somewhere where nobody knew him and where he couldn't be recognised. He said it was for my own good, so that I wouldn't be charged with necrophilia."
Draco blinked.
"Necromancy!" Potter corrected himself quickly.
"Uh huh," Draco said. "You sure you didn't do anything to his body?"
Potter punched him in the arm. "Don't be disgusting, Malfoy."
Absent-mindedly, Draco rubbed his arm. It was weird the way he was watching Potter lately. He tried to tell himself that it was out of anger for the situation. At the beginning this was probably true; he did start watching and following Potter because he didn't have anything else to do without magic. Of course, since he didn't have magic, the stalking didn't exactly go terribly well. Draco had found himself bounced off wards several times and he heard the word Squib muttered in his vicinity. Now, however, it seemed like he simply watched Potter out of habit. He found himself tailing Potter almost daily. Pansy was worried and was talking about some sort of intervention. Draco put that down to the Muggle psychology textbooks she had a disturbing fondness of reading.
"Are you okay?"
Draco gave a start. "I'm fine," he said abruptly.
Potter had a concerned look. "You looked sort of spaced out. Perhaps we should have taken you to St. Mungo's after the accident."
"I went," Draco muttered.
Potter stared at him.
"What, you thought I wouldn't try all the possible alternatives before coming with you to see Loony Lovegood?" Draco said sarcastically.
"Well if you put it that way..." Potter said thoughtfully. "I guess she takes a bit to get used to."
"Potter, I don't think I'd get used to her if I spent the rest of my life with her."
"Well, I'm not asking you to try that," Potter said impatiently.
"No, you're asking me to try her magical, fictional Nargle cure," Draco pointed out. "That's quite possibly worse."
Potter stared. "You'd rather spend your entire lifetime with Luna than believe in Nargles?"
Draco frowned. It really was quite a difficult decision and his mind was really quite fuzzy with all the drinks they'd been downing. "Are those my only two choices?"
Potter nodded.
Damn. Draco had been hoping for a much better third option. Perhaps something that involved getting his magic back, or at least something that involved Potter losing his magic as well. Least that would have been comeuppance. "I'm not choosing."
"You have to," Potter insisted as he took another swig of his drink.
Draco pondered the choices. He knew that Nargles were fiction. There was simply no doubt about it. He couldn't just make himself believe in them. It was like making himself believe that magic didn't exist and that he was actually in a padded room in a mental asylum. It was impossible. Then again he thought he just might rather believe in them than spend an eternity with Luna. He didn't think he could maintain a puzzled expression for that long. "Fine," he grumbled. "Nargles exist."
Potter beamed. "See? It wasn't so hard, was it?"
"Oh sod off," Draco muttered as he reached over to pour himself another shot. He slipped slightly on the sofa and pushed himself upright again. "I believe in Nargles. There. Now where's my magic?"
"It doesn't work that way," Potter scolded. The shot glass he was holding sloshed over his hand. "Crap," he said, looking down at the scotch that was soaking into his robes.
Draco shrugged. "Just magic it away."
Potter hesitated.
"I'm not going to go crazy just because you do a little bit of magic," Draco said tersely.
"If you're sure," Potter said, sounding doubtful. He took his wand out of his pocket and waved it over his robes. The scotch stain and smell vanished.
Draco made his best scary expression and was amused when Potter jumped. "Scared, Potter?" he drawled.
"No," Potter snapped. "But you know one day the wind's going to change and it's going to be stuck like that."
"Don't be silly," Draco said smoothly. "That's impossible. Like Nargles."
Potter just narrowed his eyes.
Potter was looking at him weirdly.
At first, Draco thought he was imagining it, but as he scrutinised Potter closer, he realised that every time he looked up, Potter glanced away. It was irritating, to say the least. And every time he talked, Potter looked startled, turned red, and mumbled into his robes like he was a little kid. "Do you have a twitch?" he asked irritably.
Potter gave a start and blinked owlishly at him. "No," he said slowly, "why do you ask?"
"Because you keep on looking away," Draco snapped. "Look, I'm not contagious or anything." He could feel his stomach churning slightly. He wasn't sure why he cared what Potter thought, but he did. It wasn't right, he decided. After all, he was the pureblood. Potter was a half-blood. That meant that Potter shouldn't be the one looking down on him.
"I never thought that." Potter looked offended.
Draco was slightly mollified. The indignant expression on Potter's face seemed genuine. "Well then, why do you look so nervous?" he demanded. A sudden thought occurred to him. "It isn't because I hit the nail on the head with the Snape comment?"
"No," Potter said quickly.
Too quickly, Draco thought. He smirked. "I gave you his address," he teased. "You could always go and find him."
"I'm not in love with Snape," Potter said, sounding irritated. There was faint colour on his cheeks.
"No, of course not," Draco said. "You just spent all that effort and money to bring back your most hated Professor back to life."
Potter frowned at him. "Why are you pushing this anyway?"
Draco shrugged. "It amuses me?" he offered.
Potter rolled his eyes. "Anybody would think that you were in love with Snape yourself."
Draco snorted. "Potter, I'd have more of a chance of being in love with you. At least you aren't a grumpy bastard." He was puzzled when Potter breathed in sharply and two bright spots of colour appeared in his cheeks.
"I have to go," Potter said quickly. He pushed past Draco, who stumbled against a table. Potter ended up pressed up against him, Potter's hands on his chest, pulling him upright again and then Potter's face seemed so close to him. Draco exhaled slowly and could see his breath fogging up Potter's glasses. Inexplicably, he shivered. Potter's hands were still on his shoulders, fingers warm against the cool fabric of his robes. Potter's face was centimetres away. Draco realised that if he leaned forward just a tiny bit, he could kiss Potter. Then he wondered why he was thinking that. He shook his head sharply.
"You can move now," Draco managed to get out.
Potter yanked his hands back as if Draco was on fire. "Excuse me," he muttered as he walked off.
Draco bit his lip. He couldn't seem to stop thinking about Potter. It didn't help that he was ridiculously horny and somehow instead of dashing a bucket of cold water on his imagination, the image of Potter dancing in and out of his mind just made it worse.
Damn it, Draco told himself. Think of Potter in a pink silk dress. Think of him naked. His cock jumped at that thought. Dimly, Draco realised that he should have thought of something else. Maybe Umbridge in a pink dress would have done it, but his mind seemed fixated on the idea of Potter now. Those vivid green eyes behind those ridiculous owlish glasses. That rumpled black hair and the perpetually wrinkled robes.
He wondered what Potter looked like under those robes. Did he exercise much? Did he have visible muscles under there? Involuntarily, Draco thought of Potter under the shower, rivulets of water trickling down his muscles, wet hair slicked back and Potter pleasuring himself, head thrown back and mouth open in pleasure.
Draco moaned and lost himself in his imagination.
They were in Potter's house, and Potter had just offered him a cup of tea. They were walking towards the kitchen when suddenly, Draco stumbled and ended up pressed up against Potter. Just that simple action seemed to make all the blood rush down to his cock. Feeling his face flush, he stepped back and brushed his robes down. "I believe your clumsiness is catching," he drawled.
Potter had an indescribable expression on his face.
"You're staring," Draco told him.
"You had... you had," Potter said, looking down at Draco's crotch area.
Draco fought to keep his expression calm. Potter noticed? That was beyond embarrassing. He most definitely wasn't attracted to Potter. The fact he wanked off to a picture of Potter last night wasn't proof. He straightened himself up and looked down his nose. "It was my wand, Potter. You have a very dirty mind."
Potter looked disbelieving. "I know the difference between a wand and ... that."
Potter knew the difference? Draco raised an eyebrow and smiled slowly.
"I didn't mean it that way," Potter said quickly. "I meant that I know what a wand feels like and that wasn't a wand. Of course, I know what that feels like as well. But only mine, of course. Not anybody else's. Not that I touch mine a lot."
Draco blinked. "Shut up, Potter," he muttered and took a step forward. He could see Potter's eyes widen and the little pulse point at his throat thrumming faster. "Shut up." Draco wanted to look away but he couldn't. He wanted to lean forward and press his lips against Potter's neck and hear Potter gasp. He wanted to press Potter up against the wall and feel Potter's cock pressed up hard against his thigh.
Potter breathed in sharply. "I...I..."
With effort, Draco turned away. He took a step backwards. "I need to go," he said quickly. He half walked, half stumbled away. As soon as Draco was out of Potter's house, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath.
Merlin, it was embarrassing. He hadn't acted like that since he was ten and he met Pansy for the first time. She hadn't let him forget it for the first four years at Hogwarts. He didn't even like Potter. He most definitely wasn't attracted to Potter. It was ridiculous. Draco resisted the urge to turn around and bang his head against the wall.
"It's your fault," Draco snapped. He had long since stopped blaming Potter for his lack of magic, but it was so easy to accuse him. Besides, it distracted him from the images in his head, the images that drove him to distraction, the images that made him want to strip Potter and have his way with him on the desk.
"Oh shut up," Potter said, sounding tired.
Draco's eyes widened and the long row of Potters dancing naked in his mind abruptly stopped. "Did you just tell me to shut up?" He couldn't believe it. Potter had never been so utterly rude before. Usually Potter made some sort of apologetic remark and then Draco would drop the topic after making a few more snide remarks.
"I've tried to help you," Potter said tightly, not looking at him. "Merlin help me but I've definitely tried to help you. You've been nothing but ungrateful."
"Me?" Draco spluttered. "Ungrateful? It's your fault my magic is gone."
"I didn't mean it to happen," Potter snapped. "It wasn't some sort of deliberate plan to steal your magic. But my decision to stay for the past few weeks and help you look for ways to recover your magic was deliberate! You would have thought I'd deserve some sort of thanks!"
A part of Draco's mind couldn't help but think that Potter was right. He knew that Potter could just have left him to be magic-less. After all, who would he go and complain to? He was a Malfoy. And besides, they had been dabbling in necromancy. Draco had no desire to join his father in Azkaban. "Thank you for ensuring that I no longer have magic," he said snidely.
"It wasn't my fault!" Potter exploded.
"Yes it was," Draco snapped. "It was completely and utterly your fault. You were the one who came up with the hare-brained scheme to bring Snape back to life. It was you who couldn't brew a potion to save your life. It's your fault!"
"Shut up," Potter said, finally looking up.
Draco was surprised at the fire in those green eyes. He shivered. He couldn't seem to look away. Finally, with some effort, he managed to blink. "No, you shut up," he said, knowing full well how childish he sounded.
Potter stepped forward. The look in his eyes intensified. "I'm trying to help you, you ungrateful bastard."
"Much appreciated," Draco managed to get out.
"Don't you ever just shut up?" Potter's voice sounded almost lazy. If Draco didn't know better, he would have said that Potter's voice sounded caressing.
"Why don't you make me?" he challenged.
Almost immediately, Draco regretted his words. Potter's eyes flared and he took another step forward. If Draco reached forward he could have touched Potter. "I think I will," Potter said softly.
Before Draco knew it, Potter had leaned forward. His lips were soft and his breath tasted vaguely of sweets. Draco struggled to get a hold of his thoughts while emotions caroused through him. It was absolutely nothing like how he had imagined it; it was better. A thousand times better. His imagination would have never captured this feeling, the feeling of indecision and the feeling of just the slightest bit of hesitation from Potter.
And then Potter pulled back. His eyes were wide with shock. "I'm sorry," he gasped.
Draco opened his mouth to rebuke him but somehow, he found himself pulling Potter forward by the robes. "Don't be," he murmured into Potter's ear before kissing him again.
Three Months Later
A Nargle danced happily through a field of primroses. It was a beautiful day. The sun was smiling in the sky and the sea was crashing into a cliff a mere twenty metres away. It looked across the field and could see other Nargles playing happily together.
A shadow fell across its path. The Nargle looked up and for the first time in its pink and blessed life, it felt fear.
"Got it!" Luna said, beaming as she charmed the Nargle into her bag. "I've been looking for you for over ten years." She leaned over it and kissed the Nargle on the nose. "We're going right back to London," she promised. "And you'll help a couple of friends of mine. Oh yes you will, you adorable thing."
With a happy whistle, she lifted the bag up and trotted back to where her partners on this expedition were giving her quizzical looks.
"You look happy," Rolf told her.
"I am happy," she said serenely, showing him the Nargle.
His eyes bugged out of his head. "So it is real," he said wonderingly.
"Of course," Luna told him seriously. "I told you it was." She looked down at the Nargle. "I didn't think that it would be so cute though."
From the look on Rolf's face, he hadn't thought so either. With a slightly bemused expression, he patted the Nargle on the head.
"I think it likes you," Luna said delightedly. "Look, it's licking your hand!" Or at least she hoped that it was like. For all she knew, it could have been Nargle-ese for extreme disgust. She really needed to learn Nargle-ese, she decided. It would be undoubtedly very useful when it came to communicating with the Nargles.
Harry handed him a copy of The Daily Prophet. Draco stared at it. "Thanks?" he ventured. "I've always wanted a copy of this. I'll treasure it forever in my heart and frame it on the wall."
"Don't be an idiot," Harry said affectionately. "Look at that article." He jabbed a finger at the lead article on the front page, the one with shiny letters and Luna's face next to the writing.
"Oh," Draco said. He stared at the heading and then at Luna's picture and then back to the heading again. "She actually found one?" He felt as though the world had been yanked out from under his feet like a rug. It was ridiculous. It was as though Luna had announced she had found a great glass elevator that led to the moon. In fact, Draco wouldn't be particularly surprised if she announced that next.
"She found a Nargle!" Harry affirmed with a grin. "Isn't that fantastic?"
"For her, definitely," Draco said cautiously. "I'm sure she's very happy. However, for me, unless you believe that Nargles can cure my affliction, it's less than cheering news."
Harry hit him on the arm. Draco frowned. A lot of people seemed to tend to hit him on the arm. "Don't be stubborn, Draco."
"I'm not being stubborn," Draco protested. He didn't think he was, anyway. He thought Harry was being ridiculous. "It's not stubbornness to be sceptical of the ability of a Nargle to cure me of being a Squib."
"You're not a Squib," Harry said in a long-suffering tone. "It was a magical accident. And as a very magical creature, the Nargle can help."
"I think," Draco said slowly, "that you have been affected by whatever affected Luna when she was a kid. Perhaps it's some sort of crazy gas." It was one of the few sore points between them. Actually, his lack of magic was the sore point, but Draco knew that Harry hated it when he brought it up. So he only brought it up to needle Harry whenever he was annoyed.
"Just give it a try," Harry insisted. "I know it sounds silly, but Luna's right sometimes. You know she is."
"I suppose," Draco said reluctantly. "But you know they don't even have a picture of the Nargle on the cover. How do you know she didn't just make it up?"
"Luna wouldn't do that," Harry said. "Besides, it says so right there that the Nargle is camera shy."
"A convenient excuse," Draco grumbled.
Harry walked over and pressed a kiss on the top of his head. "Just promise me that you'll go," he said. "It won't hurt. Who knows? It might be cute."
"With my luck, it'll be as cute as a venomous nightflower," Draco muttered. "Besides, I'm still not sure they exist." He wondered what Luna was going to show him. Possibly something invisible, knowing Luna, he thought.
"So," Draco said, "that's a Nargle." He stared, blinked, and then stared some more. He considered blinking again but didn't think that would be particularly helpful.
Luna beamed at him. "Isn't it gorgeous?"
Draco supposed that he ought to be glad that she wasn't telling him 'I told you so'. He stared down at the fluffy pink Nargle sitting on his palm. It was about the size and shape of a very small kitten. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Well," Luna said seriously, "most people feed them using a mixture of milk and solid foods, but I suppose you could try breastfeeding."
"Do I look like I have breasts?" Draco spluttered.
"You could," Luna pointed out. "Harry still has magic."
"I'm not letting Potter give me breasts!"
Luna smiled sagely. "You never know, Harry might like it. Anyway, I thought you could give her to Harry. You know, as a present."
Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Was Luna giving him a knowing smile? He couldn't tell. Her normal smile was usually fairly content and knowing. Did she know about him and Harry? The past few months had been rather surprising. He and Harry had made a pact not to tell anybody. So far nobody knew, not even Pansy. Not even Weasley and Granger. How on earth did Luna know? "Why would I give Potter a present?"
"You're not fooling anybody by calling him Potter," Luna told him.
"I'm not?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He could have kicked himself. It was the kind of amateur mistake that Harry usually made.
"You're not," Luna confirmed.
"Harry wouldn't like this anyway," Draco said. He hoped that Harry wouldn't like it. It looked too cute for words and as such, it sickened him. The Nargle looked up at him with huge plaintive eyes and made a meowing sound. "It looks like some cat bred with a pink fluffy ball."
"She does, doesn't she?" Luna picked the Nargle up and cuddled it. "I'm sure Harry will love it."
Draco eyed it doubtfully.
"Besides," Luna told him, "this Nargle will cure you." She handed it back to him and shooed him out of her door. "You'll thank me later."
"I doubt it," Draco muttered as he blinked at the bright sunlight outside. He lifted the Nargle so it was in front of his eyes. It was a remarkably docile creature. "I'm taking you back to Lovegood tomorrow," he told the Nargle. "I'm not keeping you and neither is Harry."
The Nargle blinked at him innocently.
"That is a Nargle?" Harry said, sounding rather shocked.
Draco held it up. The little pink Nargle made a plaintive mewing sound. "It is," he confirmed. "Luna seemed enamoured of its cuteness. I think it clashes with our furniture. I figure we can keep it for a night and then give it back."
"I always expected that it would look more... magical," Harry said slowly. "Do you feel any signs?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "If you came closer I could feel something," he said with a wink.
"Not that kind of sign," Harry said irritably, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I mean your magic. Do you feel it coming back at all? It should have been instantaneous."
"I think that you're a bit crazy," Draco said as he put the Nargle on their dining room table. He couldn't help think that Harry's surety that Luna could cure his affliction bordered on the insane. Sure, now they knew that Nargles existed but there was absolutely no indication that it could help cure him. Right now, the Nargle looked like a very cute little kid-friendly family pet, not some sort of magical cure-all.
"You wouldn't say that if you knew Luna more," Harry said sounding cryptic.
Draco stared. He'd always suspected there was a reason for why Harry believed so much in Luna's cures. "What'd she cure?"
Harry gave a start. "Who said she cured anything?" he said irritably.
"It's pretty obvious," Draco said. "Why else would you believe her? Face it, she isn't exactly a paragon of sanity."
"She's right more often than you know," Harry said. He then looked over at the Nargle sitting there on the table. The Nargle turned its head towards him and started licking itself. "Although," he admitted, "possibly not in this case."
"Ha!" Draco said. "You admit it. This was a crazy endeavour."
"Maybe," Harry admitted slowly, taking a step forward and laying a hand on Draco's shoulder. "But we wouldn't be in this situation if I hadn't started to help you. And I wouldn't have tried to help you if I didn't think that Luna could help me help you."
Draco blinked. "That's completely illogical," he said.
"Perhaps."
"No, it is," Draco said. "Are you trying to say you wouldn't have helped me if you hadn't known Luna even though it was your fault that I was in this situation?"
"Well, no," Harry said. "I would have tried to help."
Draco shook his head. "Then we'd be in this situation anyway."
Harry sighed. "Let's just say Luna was right before when nobody else thought she was right. I tend to trust her." Draco noticed he still cast a doubtful look at the Nargle.
Draco reached forward and ran a finger down Harry's cheek. He enjoyed seeing Harry close his eyes and shiver. "The Nargle's still going back in the morning," he said softly. "But right now, I think we have far more interesting things to do than to sit around discussing Nargles."
Harry nodded vigorously.
As he was eating dinner that night, Draco felt a strange tingling sensation in his fingers. He hoped that it wasn't the beginning of some sort of weird illness brought on by lack of magic. He knew that having magic afforded him immunity to a multitude of illnesses that Muggles were afflicted with. He certainly didn't want a Muggle illness. That would be so embarrassing. He was positive Pansy would laugh at him.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked, a frown on his face. "You're looking at your fingers like you've never seen them before."
"I'm fine," Draco said slowly. "They just feel weird, that's all." He flexed his fingers experimentally. There it was again! The strange tingling. He looked down at his hand. It didn't look different. It just felt strange.
Harry leaned across and ran a finger slowly across Draco's palm. He lifted up Draco's hand and seemed to examine it intently. "I don't see anything wrong with it," he said slowly, his breath warm against Draco's arm.
Draco shivered.
Harry lifted Draco's hand and slowly licked a drop of chocolate from their dessert that had fallen on his finger. "Whatever it is, I'm sure I can fix it," he murmured, running his tongue across the top of Draco's fingertip. "In fact, I'll stay over tonight, just to look after you."
Draco suspected that Harry's brand of looking after involved more shagging than tucking into bed, but he didn't mind. In fact, his cock jumped at the very thought and without further ado, he tackled Harry onto the sofa. He could feel Harry's erection grinding into his own, sending pleasurable tingles throughout his entire body. "I have another part that's tingling right now," Draco said, moving his hips. "Perhaps you'd like to look after that?"
Harry laughed and dragged him down for a kiss.
Draco stared at the ceiling. He had been lying there for hours ever since he woke up with the bizarre feeling in his hands again. Except now, it seemed to be shooting all throughout his body. It was as though something was waking up inside his veins. Almost automatically, he reached over for the wand that was on his bedside table. As his fingers wrapped around his wand, the tingling grew stronger. It was almost a thrumming now.
His fingers itched.
Draco's eyes widened. It was a very familiar feeling. He didn't dare hope but he was almost sure what it was. Quickly, Draco reached over and poked Harry in the back. "Wake up!" he said. "Wake up!"
Harry rolled over and blinked blearily at him, rubbing his eyes. "What?"
"I think..." Draco said slowly. "I think I know what the tingling was."
"Mmm," Harry told him. "I'm sure you don't have rabies or any of the other things you mentioned last night before we went to sleep."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Not that," he said. He hesitated, not wanting to say it out loud. Normally he wasn't superstitious but this was too important. "I think I might have my magic back!"
Harry sat up immediately.
Holding his breath, Draco waved his wand experimentally. Sparks flew through the air. "Accio book," he ordered, pointing towards a book on the bureau. The book half-heartedly slid towards him. Draco was ecstatic. "It's back!" he crowed. He had to admit that it didn't seem to be particularly strong but perhaps it just wasn't at full-strength. Frankly, Draco didn't care. He'd rather only have a modicum of magic than be a Squib. He pulled Harry forward and kissed him and then pointed his wand at a lamp in the corner. This time, the lamp slid towards the window. It seemed like his magic was coming back slowly. It seemed to be getting better every time he used it.
"Do you think..."
Draco turned to look at Harry who was looking over at the door. "Mmm?"
"D'you think that..." Harry trailed off again.
"Just spit it out," Draco said, rolling his eyes.
"Might that have something to do with it?" Harry said, pointing towards the doorway.
Slowly, Draco turned around and stared at the fluffy pink Nargle sitting there looking at them solemnly. No, it couldn't be. It just couldn't. It was impossible. Surely, the Nargle didn't have anything to do with it. "No," he said slowly. "I'm sure it didn't do anything."
He could have sworn that the Nargle smiled at him.
The Nargle was puzzled. This place was nothing like its field. It had no flowers, no grass, no fellow Nargles, and no smell of ocean. Instead, all it had were things that smelt musty, things that smelt bad, and two very large creatures. These large creatures occasionally made loud noises but mostly romped on a bouncy surface.
The Nargle approved of romping. With regret, it thought of its Nargle mate back in the field. And then it wondered if it would ever get to go back. It hoped so.
-fin
