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Chapter 9: Leaving Privet Drive

Draco Malfoy was asleep when the owl arrived. More specifically, the owl barreled beak-first into his face, waking Draco with a small shriek and a flurry of wings. It was a tiny, brown, buzzing thing, and it took Draco a while to catch it. When he finally did, the thing hooted in recognition and cozied up to his palm.

"Um, hello," Draco said awkwardly. "Can I-please-" But the owl was too busy trying to devour his finger with friendly nips for Draco to get the letter. "Stop that. Stop that! Ow! Little beast. I ought to hex you." Draco managed to wrench free the note, making the little owl tumble over and out of his hands, and Draco sucked on his injured finger while thumbing open the note with one hand. It read:

Harry,

Shortnotice, mate, butwe'vebeenbusy, you'llsee. We'regoingtocometogetyouonFriday. Mymomisalreadybaking, mutteringthingsaboutyou "wastingawayinthatawfulMuggledeathtrap." MeandHermioneandMumhaveplannedafantasticcelebrationforyou. We'recominginanauto!

-Ron

Draco was terribly confused. Today was Friday. Given what the Prophet had said, he guessed the horrible little owl-who, even now, was hopping from leg to leg on the bedpost, hooting plaintively for treats-had probably been held up, or in hiding, what with each side trying to intercept as many owls as it could to spy on the other. What was he supposed to bring? Everything? Was there room in that Weasley hole-in-the-wall for all this? The makeshift invisibility cloak-Snape had taken a similar plain black travelling cloak, and cast exceptionally strong Disillusionment and Bedazzlement charms on it, which would, Snape said, last for at least a few months. But everything else? This disguise was off to a horrible start. Still, as Snape had explained it, they would barely need Harry's more magical possessions, considering what they were going to do. Draco sighed and waved his wand, beginning to mutter spells to gather things up from the room. He and Harry had discovered quickly that the Ministry was terribly lax about reprimanding underage magic use. They had more important things to attend to, Draco thought darkly. He shut the trunk with a final flick and took a precautionary swig of Polyjuice potion. He shuddered at the taste and thrust both wand and flask into the pockets of Harry's jeans.

His face righted itself slightly, and he rubbed the bridge of his-Harry's-nose. Waking up every one and a half hours to drink this repulsive potion was absolutely horrible. Snape had shown him a spell that made his pillow-or any object-vibrate, as an alarm, after a certain amount of time had passed. He considered leaving a vibrating pillow for Aunt Petunia to deal with, but thought better of it. He dropped a pen into his pocket after enchanting it with the same spell-every hour and a half. As for the owl, he chucked him out the window and shouted, "Go home!" after him.

Draco marched down the steps with confidence, floating his trunk and Hedwig in her cage behind him, and found the Dursleys at breakfast. All this time, they had been ignoring everything Harry and he had been doing. The door to his room opened only when Draco sneaked to the bathroom or to the kitchen for the plates of food for him in the fridge. Draco left his things by the front door, ready to leave, and entered the kitchen.

Two round faces and one horsey one looked up at him.

Draco cleared his throat. "Er . . . right. Well. As you know, my birthday is coming soon."

Uncle Vernon said, "Dudley, pass the bacon."

"Come off it, I know that you can see me." Draco pulled up a chair at the other end of the table, opposite Vernon. "My birthday is coming soon. That means, in the wizarding world, that I have come of age. It also means the protection here has expired."

Petunia looked up, as if she had just smelled something putrid. "Is that . . . man . . . going to come back? That Dubbledore?"

Draco felt sick. "Dumbledore," he corrected her, a slight tint of anger in his voice.

Dudley spoke up. "What a stupid name. Seems like all the wizards are named stupid names." He snorted, thinking he was clever. "Stupid names because they are stupid."

How had Harry put up with this for so long? Draco wondered. It was all Draco could do not to hex the boy into next week, and this was the first time he'd seen him up close. Put the Dursleys before the Ministry and they might just come 'round to the Dark Lord's way of thinking yet. They were repulsive. "That has to be the most puerile insult I've ever heard, Muggle."

"Now listen here, boy-" Vernon declared, becoming red and beginning to stand.

Draco brandished his wand. "No," he said, his voice deadly quiet and even. "You listen."

Dudley snorted again, more piglike than ever. "You can't do magic, you'll get expelled."

Draco smiled unpleasantly at Dudley, feeling the air become cold around him in fury. "Expelled? Yes. I would get expelled. If Hogwarts was opening again in September, I would be expelled." He turned to Vernon with false sweetness. "Have you been reading the papers, Uncle dear? You see all these catastrophes? Bridges collapsing? Murders? Explosions? Terrorists, I think you Muggles call them." His laugh was short, mocking. "You are fools. Those are Death Eaters."

There was a terrible silence. Dudley tried to chuckle.

"You think it's funny, Dudders?" Draco's voice was sickly sweet, and he enunciated his words with perfect calm. "Hilarious, isn't it, Dudders? Death Eaters. They follow-the wizard who did this." He lifted the front of his hair. "The wizard they thought was dead. He should have died. He murdered my parents. My godfather, Sirius-they murdered him too." Harry's memory surged through him, unbidden. "The wizard with the stupid name, Dudders? He is the greatest wizard I will ever know and-now he's dead. They killed him. They will stop at nothing until wizards have dominion over Muggles." Draco grinned, exposing his canines. "Hilarious."

Vernon swallowed once, twice, and then choked out, "Bollocks."

"Really? Don't believe me?" Draco asked lightly. "Want to see their tactics, Vernon? Would you like to experience a moment of what you're up against?" Draco rounded the table, wand pointed at him. "Imperio."

This was the easiest Imperius Curse he had ever cast. The muggle's resistance crumpled like a house of cards beneath Draco's iron grip. Vernon twitched, then stood. He began to sing. "I'm a little teapot, short and stout-"

Dudley began laughing. "Dad, stop that."

"He can't. He can't stop unless I make him. It's all funny now, Dudders, until someone gets hurt . . ."

Vernon walked behind Dudley's chair and placed both hands around his neck and began to squeeze. Dudley spluttered in surprise, spraying saliva and bits of egg over the table.

"Dad! Dad!"

Petunia slammed her hand on the table. "Stop it, Harry!" she screamed.

Draco lifted his wand and broke the curse. Vernon sagged against the chair, and Dudley sucked in breath. Vernon regained his balance. There was a horrible silence filled with panting.

"That curse is illegal," Draco continued, voice low and mocking. That old rush of power-of Dark magic-was filling him with its familiar cruelty. "That is what I am up against. They have reanimated corpses called Inferi, they have Dementors that suck the soul out through the mouth, they have werewolves, giants-"

"Those don't exist," Vernon gasped.

"Don't they? Remember the rash of rabid wolves that bit children? Those weren't wolves. Those were werewolves. Come the next full moon-"

"Stop it! Stop it!" Petunia shrieked again. "As if I haven't heard all this already!" She glared at Draco. "Lily told the me the first time around about . . . all of it. To warn me."

"And then," Draco hissed, "She died."

Petunia shook, looking up into his green eyes narrowed with hatred.

"She died!" Draco laughed, sounding empty and hollow, a vision of Lily Potter materializing before his eyes, an image not his own. "She died, and you took the little scarred boy pulled from the wreckage of her house and hated him and abused him and put him in a broom closet and tried to keep him from the only world where he would be happy! Oh, what considerate and protective parents you are!"

Petunia looked away. "I thought . . . we thought it was for . . . the best."

Draco let the silence expand horribly, measuring all the injuries done to Harry against what he was doing now, Draco's revenge. He left the room quietly and sat with the trunk by the front door. He lifted a spellbook out of it and flipped through aimlessly. He passed the time, practicing small transfgurations on Dudleys shoes. He had never been very good at transfiguration, Draco mused. Too busy ignoring the McGonagall hag and, he supposed, getting points deducted from Slytherin for it. He considered the last time he had cared about the house cup, the last time he had done what he thought was the right thing-or even the wrong thing-for the sake of Slytherin pride and his own cleverness instead of out of fear. It felt like lifetimes. His pen vibrated twice, and each time he took a sip of Polyjuice.

It was Petunia who finally came to him, out of the dining room. Draco ignored her, and she sat on the stairs, facing him. "Harry," she said in a gentler voice than Draco had ever seen in Harry's memories.

Draco waved his wand and Dudley's left shoe sprouted stalks, topped with eyeballs. "That's not it," he muttered, flipping back a few pages.

"Harry," she said, more insistently.

Draco waved the wand again, muttering an incantation, and the eyeballs disappeared. The shoe then turned a lurid purple.

"Harry, I do miss my sister, whatever you think." Her voice was small and delicate. Draco looked up, and tears were collecting in her eyes.

"Lapis," he muttered to the shoe, and it turned to stone. He shut the book and looked up. Finally, he spoke with absolute calm. "I am leaving this place forever. You don't have to put up with me anymore, so you can quit the crocodile tears. You should hope that I defeat him. For your sake."

A knock came at the door. Petunia rose to answer it, but Draco whirled, wand raised, and motioned for her to wait. Slowly, he opened the door.

"Harry!" Ron Weasley was in grand form, in an outfit that would have been authentically Muggle if his shirt had not been two sizes too small and pink. The collar was half-stuffed inside the shirt, and Draco was unsure if it was intentional or if Ron were just a simpleton.

"Ron," Draco replied, relieved.

"Your stuff?" Ron asked, pointing to the trunk and cage.

"Yeah," Draco said, scratching his head. He lifted one end, and Ron grabbed the other. Hedwig looked disgruntled.

From behind him, Aunt Petunia spoke, sounding broken. "Well-Goodbye, Harry." She darted forward and pecked a small kiss on his cheek. "You-you have my sister's eyes, you know."

Draco smiled, wide and fake. "Wish me luck."

As they walked to the car, hefting the trunk, Ron looked at Harry suspiciously. Draco felt a twinge of panic. They heaved the trunk into a magically expanded boot, and finally Ron spoke.

"What was that all about?"

Draco could have laughed with relief. Fooling the Dursleys was easy. Ron and Hermione-well, he would simply have to keep himself in check. "They-well, you see, I just got your note this morning." He proceeded to explain in short-minus his Imperius curse, an action that Harry never would have taken, Draco decided, no matter how much they deserved it-what had transpired.

"You explode at them and then she comes out and gives you a kiss?" Ron made a face. "Blimey. Wish my mum was like that."

"My mom isn't like that," Draco reminded him.

"Er . . . oh . . ." Ron looked injured and sheepish. "Sorry, Harry."

"What are you two waiting for?" a frizzy head demanded, emerging from the car. "Let's get going."

Once all were settled on the couches inside the small car-magic, of course-Hermione and Ron began to talk. It was surprisingly easy for Draco to simply sit there and absorb what they said.

"Oh, Harry, it's too bad you had to miss the wedding," Hermione began, shaking her head. "Beautiful, absolutely beautiful."

"I thought you hated Fleur," Draco said with a laugh.

"I'm not talking about Fleur! Just-the whole thing. Ginny, in that gorgeous bridesmaid's dress! Oh, Harry, you would have loved it. And that tiara!" Hermione sighed.

"All a crock, if you ask me. Really dull. Though now that you mention it, Fleur-ouch! That was my ribs, Hermione!"

Hermione shot him a venomous smile.

"Hey, there, you two! No fighting, please!" Arthur Weasley called from the driver's seat. "Though it is too bad, but the Ministry stopped me from inviting you to the wedding."

"The Ministry?" Draco asked, incredulous, trying to avoid the scorn that threatened to creep into his voice. Purebloods never did put a lot of stock in the Ministry.

"Yes, the Ministry itself. They want you safe, Harry." Arthur smiled into the rear view mirror and added, "Of course, I managed to convince them to take you away well before your birthday, if only to prevent any-ah-damage to your family."

Draco noticed that both Ron and Hermione were making silencing motions. Ron pointed to his father, then pantomimed strangling himself. Horcruxes, Hermione mouthed, and then placed a finger over her lips.

"Ah . . . right," Draco responded lamely.

"Took quite a bit of doing to get them to let me have you at my house, really. They want you to come up to the offices once you're all settled in. Minister wants a few words."

"Um . . . settled in?"

Arthur Weasley abandoned the wheel. "You didn't think we'd let you go and find a place of you own, did you? Harry, you've-"

"Dad!" Ron shouted. "Drive!"

"Oh-right-" Arthur returned to the wheel. "Well, Harry, Molly and I think that it's only fair that you stay with us as long as you wish. You've saved-I mean-you've been very good to our family, Harry." He ended, sounding sentimental.

Ron mimed gagging. "That means he feels like he owes it to you," Ron whispered.

"The wedding," Hermione said loudly. "Was lovely."

"The , uh, the cake was good," Ron added, catching on. "And you should have seen this dress-" Hermione looked disgruntled. "It was great. Your dress, Hermione-what sort of purple was that?" Ron turned to Hermione, asking.

"Lavender," Hermione said in a small, sheepish voice. "My dress was lavender."

Draco felt slightly nauseated. Had these two always been this way, and he had never noticed? All the teasing he could have done about Granger and Weasley, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G . . . wasted. Draco wanted to kick himself.

"Lavender?" Ron asked, looking slightly queasy.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, I'm not going to hold it against you forever."

"Only the next few centuries, like," Ron muttered, looking dejected.

"You were a prat," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "But we have more important things to discuss than Ron's ability to suck the face right off-ow! Ron!"

Ron pointed to his father. "Don't-Doesn't know-" he muttered.

Hermione sighed in a long-suffering way and pointed her wand to Arthur. "Muffliato." She leaned close. "Forget it, Ron. We have more important things to discuss." She turned to Draco. "Harry, we've started making plans. I've done quite a bit of research on Slytherin's locket and-I think-I think I may know who R.A.B. is."

Snape had told him that this was coming, but could not help the opportunity to one-up Hermione Granger. "Me too. Regulus Black."

Hermione looked shocked, and Ron laughed. Hermione looked even more hurt.

Draco felt a pang of something unfamiliar. Guilt? Oh, come on, he thought, It's Hermione Granger, showing up the know-it-all should feel good. Buck up. It's just a Mudblood. Somehow, the obscenity soured in his mind.

"But-Hermione-he's dead, right? That's where I get stuck on it," Draco said, trying to make amends.

"Well, yes," Hermione replied, smoothing her hair. "But I know where we can start. Grimmauld Place."

"Right," Draco replied, glad to have made amends. Watch it, he chided himself.

"Harry, I don't know if you're allowed to Apparate or-"

"We're here!" Arthur Weasly interjected, too loudly. He wiggled a finger into his ear, trying to dispel the Muffliato. Hermione promptly lifted the spell, and Arthur sighed with relief. "We're home now," Arthur declared. "Everyone, out!"

They piled out of the car, Arthur Weasley levitating all of the luggage to the front door, including the cantankerous Hedwig.

"Molly!" he called. "Come on, you need to give me the password!"

"Arthur, my souffle-"

"Molly, we could be Death Eaters in disguise!"

A loud bang, and Molly Weasley Apparated at the door. "If you were Death Eaters, you'd bust in the door and not bother to ask me to force a password out of you."

"Mollywobbles," Arthur said, ignoring her logic.

"Door's open anyway," Molly replied, and Disapparated back to, presumably, the kitchen, mumbling something cruel about idiot security measures and the Ministry.

Arthur opened the door and showed Ron, Hermione, and Draco in, and then floated the luggage up to their rooms. "You know," he called to Molly. "one of us could be a Death Eater. Polyjuice Potion and all that. It's a very real danger, Molly."

Draco swallowed and looked around nervously.

"Right," she replied acidly. "So I'm going to live every moment of my life in mortal peril, is that it? Till-well-you know, things get better?"

Draco realized that everyone was staring at him. For a moment, his heart leaped into his throat, thinking he had been caught out-but no. TheChosenOne. Right. He restrained a bitter thought; Yeah, I'lljustwavemywand, SummonupthosepeskyHorcruxes, throwthemonacompostheap, andhaveanicesit-downwiththeDarkLord, makehimrepent, andwe'llallhaveafinetea-allofus, theDarkLord, andDumbledore. Merlinwillbringuscrumpets.

"Oh, Harry!" A red-haired comet collided with Draco, and was immediately kissing him with great abandon.

"Mmfph?" Draco replied, going cross-eyed in his futile attempt to see who exactly was attached to his lips.

Ginny Weasley detached herself from Draco's face and began to blush. "I missed you, Harry," she said sheepishly.

"I . . . yeah . . . well . . . gosh. I missed you too." In his confusion, he took a stab at proper Harry form.

"Mum's set up a room for you," Ron interjected blithely. "Come on, we'll show you."

"A . . . a room?"

"You're moving in, aren't you?" Ginny asked, scrutinizing him.

"Mom won't take no for an answer," Ron warned.

"I . . . um . . . sure?"

"Then come on. Though-don't mention this to Mom-" Ron added as they ascended the stairs. "It's Percy's old room. Percy's out for good."

"Don't say that, Ron," Ginny admonished. "He'll come 'round soon enough."

"Yeah, but either way, he's lost his bed. Though I'd say he deserves a night or two on the kitchen floor, the way he's been acting," Ron replied.

The door opened into a bright, small room with one bed. The drawers were empty, and the covers turned down invitingly.

"Wow," Draco said appreciatively. He was disappointed at the size, but at least he was alone.

Ron beamed. "Thought you'd like it."

The pen in Draco's pocket vibrated menacingly.

Arthur Weasley appeared at the door. "Ron, Ginny, why don't you go help Hermione get settled in?"

"She's already mostly unpacked," Ginny protested.

"No, no, I could use the help," Hermione declared with false levity. She shot Draco a meaningful look as she ushered the two younger Weasleys out of the room.

Arthur shut the door behind him. "Harry," he said, sounding serious. "I just want you to know that if you need anything-anything-that we are here to help."

Draco sat on the bed. Remember to be the boy-hero, he thought bitterly. "I don't think I need much. I mean, you're giving me a bed . . . letting me stay with friends. That's all I really need." Probably to sappy, but Arthur seemed to buy it.

"That's my boy, Harry." He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and his smile faded. "Still . . . Don't feel that-oh, this is difficult." He looked down, sighing. "Don't feel you have to go after You-Know-Who, Harry. You've done more than enough for-for everyone. We don't want to lose you. I'm sure the Ministry's got it under control."

Draco had to resist the laugh. As if the Ministry could handle the Dark Lord. Might as well send a pack of first-year Hufflepuffs after him. But what would Harry say? Honesty, he decided. "Mr Weasley, you know I can't promise that. If there's any way-anything that I can do to stop him . . ."

"Harry, you could die," Arthur said carefully. "Harry-after all you've sacrificed for us-we can't just let you-let you walk off and-and-"

"Mr Weasley, he killed my mother," Draco said, his voice equally serious, slipping for a moment, the sharpness of his own recent pain in his voice. "He destroyed everything I've ever loved, and I'm supposed to wait here and eat souffles while he builds an army? Hogwarts has already gone, and the old Death Eaters are all returning, and he's got new ones too-Crabbe and Goyle and Nott and," he swallowed, "Malfoy . . . and the Ministry does nothing?" Arthur tried to protest, but Draco waved it away with an expression of contempt. "Would Dumbledore want me stay here and be cornered-because they will hunt me down, I know that-or would he want me to at least try? To go down fighting?"

A small half-smile appeared on Arthur's face. "Well, I tried. Least I can tell Molly I tried." He turned and went for the door. "Can't say I expected much else out of you, though, Harry. You're a Gryffindor through and through." He paused. "We'll try to stop you, you know. We won't let you go if we can stop you. I'd put you in a Body-Bind and stuff you in the closet for as long as it took, if I thought it would do any good." Arthur sniffled and wiped away a tear. Draco was silent. Finally, Arthur opened the door. "Lunch ought to be in a half-hour."

Arthur shut the door and Draco sighed. He opened the trunk and refilled his flask of Polyjuice potion, taking a single revolting sip. Stupid Weasleys. So caught up in emotionality that they couldn't see what had to be done. Still, the house was clean . . . and the people were friendly. Draco lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, not bothering to unpack. Why was it so hard to hate these people now?