A/N: Chapter Two! Thank you again to Sofia for the betaing :)
Just so you're warned from here on out, I tend to write on Apple's pages app, so sometimes my italics bunch together and the punctuation messes up a little. I'm sorry!
Friday, 25th December 1998
10.40am
Harry stumbled under Malfoy's weight as they landed, looking around frantically as he surveyed their surroundings. He held his wand at the ready, vaguely aware of Malfoy's soft breathing against his neck as he slumped against Harry. He threw his limp form down into the snow, inspecting his skin for wounds and wincing a little as his own blood trickled into his eye.
It suddenly hit him again that Malfoy had lead the Death Eaters to Grimmauld Place and anger flooded him again as he crawled over him. He grazed over the cut on his cheek, a sense of satisfaction filling him. The bastard deserved it– he had broken the Fidelius charm and now Harry'd lost Sirius' house–
Then, guilt flooded him. He remembered the photograph of the Marauders in his kitchen, the mirror that had been in his bedroom, his firebolt, the old permission letter for Hogwarts... He slapped Malfoy until he moaned softly, signalling he was indeed awake and alive.
His resolve faltered slightly. It was suspicious, yes, that the Death Eaters had turned their wands on Malfoy, but he wouldn't put it past an elaborate act to lure them. After all, he had spent all of sixth year sneaking around, mending the Vanishing Cabinet, helping Snape to kill Dumbledore...
"When the fuck were you going to tell me you had a trace on your lovely silver toy?" He demanded as Malfoy opened his eyes slowly, leaning forward to press him into the snow. Harry testified at the Malfoys' trial in June and he was about to start regretting it as Malfoy came to his senses. The blond's eyes refocused slowly and his head snapped up a little in surprise, watching Harry move his wand to point at his throat.
"Malfoy," Harry growled at him now. Malfoy had suddenly turned himself into a goldfish, mouth opening and closing and not making a sound. Harry pushed the tip to dig into his skin.
"I don't have any magic–" Malfoy started immediately and squirming a little. He continued to babble, but Harry didn't hear any of it. No magic? The gears in his mind began to turn as Malfoy continued, but Harry only caught words like 'curse', 'Severus'. He took a deep breath. One way to find out if he was telling the truth and Harry was prepared to run for his life if he was wrong for giving him another chance. He held out his wand for Malfoy to take.
"– oh God don't point it at me like that." His grey eyes got impossibly wider as he stared at the holly stick. Harry bit his lip to suppress a groan and his brow furrowed.
"It's the handle end of a wand, Malfoy, I hardly think it's going to hurt you," Harry bit out, shoving it at him as he picked it up slowly, barely clasping it in his fingers.
He watched Malfoy dally and twirl the wand in his fingers, looking at him as he did so. He was chewing on his lip too and Harry lost his patience. They had to find Ron and Hermione.
"Show me." He tried to be as gentle as he could. Malfoy could either help or Harry could leave him here. Without magic, they'd be safe as long as they were at a distance, right?
"Lumos," Draco was clear, but his hand was shaking. The wand did not light.
Harry put his face in his hands. He wasn't too sure if he wanted to laugh at Malfoy for the irony– a pureblood supremacist incapable of producing magic– or if he'd cry. They were in the middle of muggle London, as far as Harry knew, without food and with a single wand between them.
He held out his hand and Malfoy placed his wand in it eagerly, obviously trying to get away from it. Harry raised an eyebrow at him but Malfoy shook his head, watching Harry warily as he pulled his knees up to his chest and began to rock himself slowly.
Malfoy was pale but flushed in the cold, staring off into the distance and looking terribly lost. Harry pulled himself together, holding his wand aloft. "Expecto Patronum," he called. The silver stag burst out of his wand and galloped around them, slowing its pace to face him. He reached out a hand to pet it and it nuzzled him, warming him briefly.
"Hermione, are you safe? We're–" He paused for a moment. If they were captured (Harry shuddered at the thought) their captors would hear the message just as clearly. He looked over at Malfoy again, who was now running his hand gently along the side of his Patronus. "Return with the Otter if you are." He prayed it was vague enough, sending it off. He sighed heavily and moved to lie on the snow with Malfoy.
Now, they would wait.
Friday, 25th December 1998
7.14pm
Granger was silent.
Harry had managed to apparate them into Grimmauld Place and out, just enough time to grab his wand off the floor. He then moved them to Diagon Alley, where Draco had been sure he would be shot in the middle of the street with a muggle gun. Unfortunately, he'd said that aloud and Harry had shot him a withering look, accusing him of watching too many of Granger's movies.
He'd concluded perhaps Potter– Harry turned sometime during the day and announced it was too weird– did have a brain after all. They'd visited Gringotts briefly, drawing out some muggle money (Draco thought the muggles were alarmingly stupid, really, for the notes felt nothing like pounds) before disapparating into muggle London again.
They'd passed through the streets, wandering aimlessly. Draco openly stared at the muggle girls until Potter pulled him away. He tried to blink the image of stiletto heels and miniskirts out his mind, shivering at the thought of it. Potter had laughed at him, shrugging as he complained about them all the way as they walked toward the London Eye.
He was sure he'd frozen their hot chocolates over when Potter told him he'd have to change out of his robes into muggle clothing.
Draco looked out over the water, watching the chain dangling from his neck over the railing. The ring was glinting in the light and he was tempted to throw it out into the waves. He pulled it up and studied it for the millionth time, trying to make sense of the markings. This was the key to his father's death– and that was the only thing he was sure of.
Harry had found him a copy of the Daily Prophet, reluctantly handing over the article confirming the Azkaban suicide. Staring into the empty eyes of Lucius' face, Draco found himself unable to move, completely frozen by the image. As if he was there, about to hold his arms out to him again, holding him and telling him that it would be alright. Muggle cyanide, the text proclaimed.
He'd stared at it until Potter put a hand on his back, jerking him out his reverie. He'd pushed the paper away immediately– it wouldn't do to dream. His father hadn't touched him since he was ten. He let Potter grip his shoulder as they sat in silence, waiting for Granger to return her patronus.
Potter shoved him out of the way, pushing him along and holding a finger to his lips. Draco pulled away but followed him in silence, watching over his shoulder. He picked at his shoulder– honestly, did Potter have to push so hard?
"Don't look," Potter hissed at him. He briefly caught a glimpse of robes in the crowd behind them and inhaled sharply. Oh.Potter grabbed his arm, pulled him around the corner and they disapparated.
Friday, 25th December 1998
7.43pm
Harry grimaced as he looked up into the façade of number four, Privet Drive. He released his grip on Malfoy's arm and trudged up the driveway, pausing to gaze at the shrubbery covered in snow. He ran his fingers along the cool surface of Uncle Vernon's car, snorting when he found the dent from twelve years ago– he'd slammed Harry down into the metal, his glasses creating a pretty mark in the freshly waxed surface.
He moved to the backyard and froze as he spotted Aunt Petunia crouched down, her figure obscuring the patch she was working on. He took small steps trying to reorientate himself, peering over her shoulder at the–
"Potter! This house is tiny!" His heart stopped as she turned around slowly, eyes flashing dangerously. Harry began to back away slowly, his pulse racing back to full speed as she straightened up. Malfoy took the opportunity to strut over the snow to Harry's side and shove a flower in his hand, oblivious.
"They grow potions ingredients in mug–"
"Potions?" Petunia drawled. "Subtle as a knee to the groin." She was smirking at Harry, woefully reminiscent of Malfoy himself. That particular problem was now eyeing her carefully.
"Is she a witch?"
"Who wouldn't want to be a freak like your kind," Petunia spat, dripping sarcasm. Malfoy was now staring open jawed at her. She had taken a step forward and Harry's body began to prickle with the anticipation of the dank, dark cupboard.
"You must be a mudb–"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry gritted his teeth and forced a smile, jerking his head over at Aunt Petunia, whose eyebrows had disappeared into her hair. Malfoy looked her over, offered her his best smile a second too late and pulled Harry away. He thrashed as best as he could.
"Malfoy!"
"Harry, you have to obliviate her!" He stilled and looked up into Malfoy's eyes, groaning.
"I can't!"
"You have to! God, no respect for–"
"They're my relatives," Harry tried. Malfoy silenced as his mouth dropped open. Aunt Petunia's head poked out from behind the house at that moment.
"You're related to that?"
Friday, 25th December 1998
7.50pm
"A little louder, Malfoy, I think Uranus might've missed what you said," Harry dropped to sit in the snow as Aunt Petunia wordlessly disappeared into the house, probably to get Uncle Vernon.
Brilliant. Now they were fucked.
Malfoy huffed and crossed his arms. Harry stared up him exasperatedly, feeling his life leave him as the familiar form of Uncle Vernon appeared in the doorway. "He's probably wondering why you're here," he supplied unhelpfully, gulping as the beady eyes came to rest on him.
"BOY!" Vernon roared from the porch. "COME HERE AT ONCE!" Harry didn't think about it much as he scrambled to his feet and tripped to cross the lawn and stand before his uncle. As he realised what he'd done, he looked over at Draco, who had now raised a careful eyebrow and walked over to join him.
Harry hesitated as Vernon watched expectantly. "This is Draco Malfoy. He's– um, my– friend, from school," he phrased it as carefully as he could, resisting the urge to grab the blond and disappear immediately. Malfoy smirked at him, mouthing friend? Harry shoved him gently as his uncle regarded them.
Vernon continued to look for a few minutes and Harry was soon shifting under his gaze. He hadn't lied– they were sort-of friends by now. 'Oh and sorry to say, we're on the run from some evil wizards so we're just hiding out at your house.'
Finally, he spoke, his face turning a lovely purple. "Friends, are you?" he sneered. Against his better judgement Harry nodded and Vernon laughed would be better to let Vernon be, since they would be able to disapparate from the area as soon as he let them go. "You have a lot of nerve, bringing your kind here." Malfoy snorted indignantly, opening his mouth to retort when–
"Dad?" Dudley appeared behind his father, looking much slimmer than when Harry saw him last. He smiled uneasily at him, ignoring Malfoy tugging at his arm and Vernon's silent fury. "Is that Harry?"
His cousin strode up to the door and gave a huge smile in return. "How's your hocus-pocus war, Harry?" He remained oblivious to Vernon's bubbling mood.
"Over," Malfoy responded, sounding thoroughly shocked. His eyes darted between Dudley and Harry, as if the answer would write itself on either of their foreheads.
"And you survived, eh?" Dudley turned away now, walking towards their kitchen. Harry shuddered as another memory passed through him.
"It's good to see you, Big D," Harry called carefully over Vernon's shoulder. "Now, Draco–" he gave a pointed look at Malfoy, who stared back incredulously. "–we've really got to go, so– um, we'll see you." Harry dragged him away from his relatives, who were stunned momentarily. As they stepped onto the street, he gave a tiny wave and took off running.
Friday, 25th December 1998
8.01pm
Magnolia Crescent. Merlin, these muggles were uncreative.
Potter was bent over, breathing hard and Draco was sprawled out on the snow-covered ground, glaring at him. "What– the– hell– was– that–" he panted out, throwing his head back into the cold. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of the horse-faced woman and the whale of a man.
He heard Potter plop down on the snow next to him, his breath steadying. He rolled onto his side to watch him, feeling Potter's mood steadily deteriorating. "Potter," he called. He continued to stare and ignore Draco, eyes fixated on a bare tree ahead.
"Oi, Potter," he reached a hand out to him and pushed him over. He flailed as he fell, his emerald gaze darting around and finally resting on Draco. He pulled his knees in and resolutely returned to the tree. Draco furrowed his brow and reached to prod him again, only for him to wrap his arms a little tighter.
Of course, most of Hogwarts knew that Harry Potter was raised by muggles. There had been some whispers about a 'Cupboard under the Stairs' but Draco had dismissed it because really, anyone who knew the Chosen One had to have been falling over to please him. Potter was too damn cocky to be subdued by muggles.
But he was so curious.
"Tell me about them." The words were out before he really thought about it. He saw Potter finally shift to look at him. Draco held his breath.
Friday, 25th December 1998
8.19pm
Harry was sure he'd misheard, but when he turned to look, Malfoy was watching him in anticipation. He thought about it, gazing resolutely back– he hadn't even told Ron and Hermione, but they'd never asked.
Malfoy was a git, but he hadn't shown a genuine interest in Harry at all until now, really. It was unnerving to suddenly be under scrutiny and he started to berate himself for bringing the biggest pureblood bigot he knew to his relatives' house. He supposed he owed Malfoy some kind of explanation, at least.
He ran the bits of memory through his mind and chuckled bitterly, thinking of the haircuts, lock-ups in the cupboard, the vanishing glass, the stays at Mrs Figg's... Malfoy's gaze was steady and Harry breathed deep. No time like alone in a park with a fugitive.
"That was my mum's sister," he admitted.
"Lily Potter's sister?" Malfoy's shock was a small compliment and Harry smiled ruefully at him.
"Yes, and–" he was cut off as a silver otter finally made its appearance. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed, but Malfoy's attention shifted immediately.
"Harry, we're at the Burrow. Bring Malfoy with you," Hermione's voice rang clear across the park. The silver mist faded and Harry sighed, standing.
"The Burrow?" Malfoy's voice was indignant. "We're going to the Weasleys'?" Harry grinned widely at him, nodding. His eyes rolled back into his head and he went back to lying in the snow, arm over his face.
"Malfoy..."
"Potter..." he returned. Harry groaned at him.
"Come on, Malfoy," he grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. Malfoy continued to grumble as he dusted snow off his coat and shot nasty looks.
Friday, 25th December 1998
8.26pm
He didn't like this at all, brushing snow off his clothes and mentally preparing himself for the Weasleys' home.
Draco needed them. He knew that, he was grateful they were helping but merlin, he didn't expect to be going to see Arthur and Molly Weasley so soon after the war. He shuddered a little in trepidation, pulling his coat in a little tighter and trying to calm his stomach. They were going to Weasley and Granger, who would be there to help him. In, Out, In, Out.
Potter hadn't let go of his hand. Draco supposed this was some kind of consolation, because Potter was rather warm and comforting when he didn't have his mouth open. He pulled on the chain and checked for the ring and nodded at him.
Then, they were off. Potter never let go.
Friday, 25th December 1998
8.32pm
"Harry!" They heard Ginny Weasley calling them from the house, running to meet them as they trudged up to the precariously stacked building.
Draco waved at her and she paused for a second in front of them, surveying him carefully before she threw herself into Potter's arms, kissing him on the cheek. Draco snatched his hand away and continued on towards the house. Granger was standing there with a relieved expression on her face, offering him a small smile as he stood mock-saluting her.
Ginny ran past him into the house again, announcing their arrival and soon more of them peeked through the kitchen doorway and came to greet Potter warmly, clapping him on the back and crushing him in hugs. They looked at him warily and he backed himself on the farthest wall, grateful when Granger and Weasel came to stand with him away from the reunion. He watched Potter's smile grow as Molly came out to embrace him, wrapping his arms gently around her.
He coughed. Potter's head snapped over and surprisingly enough, he smiled at Draco too. He stared dumbly back while Weasley and Granger shared a look, but he really didn't want to know what that was about. He closed his eyes and blocked his thoughts out with the welcome buzz of chatter in the Burrow.
Friday, 25th December 1998
11.23pm
Hermione asked him to repeat himself. Again.
"Malfoy's lost his magic," Harry pressed, glancing at Draco for approval. At his nod, he continued. "Some kind of curse and we think it has something to do with that... thing." He gestured vaguely to the ring sitting on the table between them.
Somewhere along the night, Malfoy had demanded he be addressed as Draco and announced he didn't care how weird it was, he was going to call him Harry. He'd blushed a little as Charlie snickered, hiding his laugh behind his firewhiskey. Before he'd been able to continue, Harry had agreed and Draco had, quite thankfully, shut up.
She hummed and tapped her chin as she thought. "Never heard of anything like that," she admitted after a pause. (She glared as Ron and Harry coordinated a gasp of surprise.) She was studying him now, casting some diagnostic spells as Ron and Draco animatedly fought over the Chudley Cannons' chances of winning in the Quidditch season.
Harry and Hermione stared at the ring. She picked it up by the chain, trying to read the engraving. He joined her, eyes raking over the words. Eclipse the brightest light.
That was helpful,Harry thought. The words were vague; they could mean anything. If they had anything to do with Malfoy's memory or his magic, or the trace on it... they could easily be found. Harry thought back to the first attack on Grimmauld Place. Malfoy'd snatched the ring out of the air and had the ring clasped in his hand, as the Death Eaters disapparated, but it had reacted the moment Hermione touched it.
"I can't read it," Hermione said, troubled. His eyes widened in surprise.
"You can't? But it's in english, right here. Eclipse the brightest light." He pointed it out to her. Her mouth opened and she was watching him out of the corner of her eye.
"What?" He was exasperated now.
"I can't read it."
"It's perfectly clear–"
"Parseltongue." Draco's voice joined the conversation abruptly. "I know, Granger."
"There's a written language for Parseltongue?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Every language has a written form, I suppose," Hermione replied slowly. She glanced at Draco and he nodded affirmatively.
"But I haven't been able to speak it since Voldemort died." He protested weakly, falling into Ron's bed. He rubbed his eyes and Ron moved to rub his back. Harry moaned softly as his scar began to throb slightly.
Draco was clutching his arm, too and Hermione as on her feet, looking around wildly. She pulled back his sleeve and saw the Dark Mark burning dark and fresh on his skin. Harry put a hand out to pull Draco down, steadying him as he bit so hard on his lip it started to bleed.
"Talk," Harry commanded.
"Fuc– Fucking hurts," he spat out.
Hermione was shaking her head wildly and Harry's mind was whirring. Voldemort had been defeated, they were sure of that. The lieutenants were all dead, the Death Eaters in Azkaban.
Right?
Who the fuck was calling them back together?