A hundred thanks to Michy, as per usual. I know the passed few chapters have been slightly short, I do promise a lengthy one for the next one although the update may have to wait a little bit. Either way, Enjoy! :)
Chapter Thirteen
Outed
In the days to follow, Grimmauld Place was in an odd, silent state of stasis. Hermione couldn't bring herself to acknowledge Draco directly, Harry himself couldn't bear to look at him around his friends, and all three of them seemed to have taken an oath of silence. Ron, on the other hand, was beginning to feel stir crazy.
Their plans were falling into place to retrieve Helga Hufflepuff's Cup from the Lestrange vault. The only reason Draco was certain of that particular location was due to the fact he had gone with his Mother and Aunt there, just as his Father had, to secure its safety over the years of Voldemort's dormancy. Once again, it would be just Ron and Hermione, as Harry and Draco were bound to one another's company. The four were currently sitting in the library. Harry was staring at the pages in Magick Moste Evile, barely even recognizing the words anymore. Ron was playing Wizard's Chess with himself, mumbling nonsensically beneath his breath every few minutes, and the other two were pouring over their respective areas of study; Hermione obsessing over finding a way to destroy the Horcruxes and Draco dedicating his energy to figuring out what it was that Michael Mauvais had allegedly brewed to become immortal.
Suddenly, Draco reached out over top of the table, his hand grasping for Harry's. Harry was surprised and slightly alarmed; their relationship, whatever it was, never went beyond snogging sessions in a locked room. This was the first time since his conversation with Hermione that they were touching in public. With wide eyes, Harry peered at Draco, who was much paler than usual, his grey eyes wide.
"Draco?" Harry asked slowly.
"I found it," he responded shakily, each word sounding laboured.
Everybody's attention was drawn to them. Ron, however, had his eyes trained on the blond's hand placed neatly overtop of Harry's. "Found what?" Hermione asked, standing from her chair and hurrying over, grabbing the book from Draco. She read it quickly and gasped. "You found it!"
"I found what Mauvais brewed. I cannot be definite, but-"
"No, this is it, I'm sure. But I've never seen anything like this before," Hermione whispered, furrowing her brows at the pages.
"That would be because it is truly dark and ancient magic, Granger, nothing like we are taught at school," Draco explained. He still had a slightly shocked expression on his face.
"Who would do this just for immortality?" Hermione asked, sounding sickened and running her eyes up and down the two pages encompassing the potion again.
"Voldemort, that's who," Harry muttered darkly. "That's fantastic that you found it, but now what're we supposed to do?"
Draco rolled his eyes, finally sliding his stoic mask over his shock. "Bloody miracle how you ever made it to Sixth Year, Potter," he sneered. Harry glared at him. "All Potions have a counter. Just like every spell has its counter."
"That's not true, The Killing Curse doesn't-"
"Doesn't it?" Draco cut him off, looking pointedly at his forehead. "Even if it was not the case, this Potion does indeed have a counter."
"All we have to do is find it and hope it's not nearly as horrible as this," Hermione said, sitting down in the seat next to Draco now.
"Unfortunately, your hope is in vain. This is the darkest of magic, but luckily enough for you, you have me," Draco was smirking now and propped up his free arm on the table, leaning towards Harry whose breath caught in his throat as Draco's grip tightened on his hand still lying still on the table. "I have not ever considered myself to be the best in our year at any subject-"
"Pfft," Ron snorted, receiving a glare from both Draco and Harry which startled him back into silence, eyes falling to their hands once more.
"-but I am the best Potions Master Hogwarts has ever seen since Snape himself. That is a guarantee," he said smugly.
Hermione shook her head. "I can even say that's true, but even Snape couldn't counter this, Malfoy."
Draco's smirk was widening now. "Snape doesn't have what I do; my Father's library."
"You're not suggesting we go to Malfoy Manor again, are you?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Your two little friends are about to Polyjuice themselves, walk right into Gringott's and break into my dearest Aunt's vault, and yet going home is out of the question? Trust me, Harry, there are books and ingredients there that will give us exactly what we need to bring this bastard down!" Draco argued. He had been pushing on them to go to Malfoy Manor for a few days now, and Ron was most especially uncomfortable with the idea.
"It's Death Eater headquarters, Malfoy. We wouldn't make it out of there alive, either of us!" Harry exclaimed, the thought of bringing Draco back to that place wholly unsettling.
"Is it? Do you really think once the place was found penetrable due to my escape that they would stay there? Of course there will be surveillance, a few lower caste Death Eaters, but I can be certain lovely Bella and her cronies have dispersed," he ground out. "But that's not it. Turn five pages back, Granger."
Hermione did as she was told and gasped for a second time. "Draco," she whispered, everybody slightly shocked to hear her using his first name, "Do you think this could work?"
Draco nodded. "I think it most certainly can. It is just the ingredients that will be difficult to collect. It is another Potion, one I do believe could easily destroy the Horcruxes. It translates here to be called the Brew of Death's Soul."
"What do you mean translates?" Harry asked slowly.
"Did you think a text about potions this ancient would be in English? It's all Latin," Draco shrugged, then seeing Harry's surprised look, countered it with his own. "Can't you read Latin?"
Hermione rolled her eyes this time. "I tried to tell them it's very useful for Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and so much more, but they never bothered," she shook her head.
"That's because Latin is bloody boring," Ron muttered, still oddly quiet and transfixed.
"I'll make the list of ingredients. You can make a list of what you think you'll need to make it," Hermione said and then looked up, smiling thankfully at the Slytherin, "Thank you Draco, this is exactly what we needed."
Draco nodded slowly. "We are for the same cause, the sooner that bastard is in the ground, the better."
"Who wrote this book, anyway?" Harry asked.
"H.P Lovecraft, of course, who else would be twisted enough to discover and invent these types of brews?" Draco smirked at Harry's surprised expression. "Now do you believe me that he is anything but a Muggle?"
"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry mumbled and then turned to Hermione. "What can we do to help?" he gestured between himself and Ron.
"How about before we start helping, somebody bloody well explains to me what exactly is going on here?" Ron finally asked beneath his breath, his voice sounding strained.
Everyone looked at him inquiringly, before they followed his glaring gaze. Harry jumped away from Draco's touch, as if he had been suddenly burnt and he looked confusedly at his friend. "N-nothing," he stammered.
Draco raised his eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest as Hermione looked nervously between her best friend and Ron. "The War, Potter, we're not guaranteed to survive it. It is up to you whether or not you wish to waste your time-"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped beneath his breath. They hadn't spoken about anything between them. Most of what occurred was just snogging and then ignoring that it happened immediately afterwards.
"No, Harry, waste your time with what, exactly? What's Malfoy on about and would somebody please bloody tell me why you and fucking Malfoy of all damn people were just holding hands?!" Ron's voice was rising now, his face turning red as he was slowly standing up from his chair, looking accusingly at the other boys in the room before turning on Hermione. "'Mione, don't tell me you didn't see that?"
Hermione pursed her lips but didn't say a word, causing Ron to groan, "This isn't news to you? Well it sure as hell is news to me! What the devil is going on here? Somebody, tell me or I swear I will-" Ron was reaching for his wand, no doubt to point it at Draco, but the blond was faster and already had his drawn as he was suddenly standing and the tip of his wand was directed at his chest.
Draco narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Once again, or what, Weasel? If you become between what is me and mine I will have your head," he growled.
"You and yours?"
"Excuse me?" Ron and Harry both spoke and once, equally enraged. Harry was on his feet and glaring at Draco all of a sudden. "I'm not a fucking trophy, Malfoy!"
"That is not what I meant and you know it!" Draco countered heatedly.
Harry took a deep steadying breath and turned to leave from the room, but the moment he swung the door open and exited, he and Draco both felt an excruciating pain jolt through their bodies, extending from the marks on their wrists. Harry fell to the floor and hissed, Hermione immediately at his side. "Fucking Oath," Harry muttered between breaths, and he begrudgingly allowed himself to be escorted back into the room, only to keep as far away from Draco as possible.
"Harry, could you please just explain to me what I saw because I feel like I'm going mad here, I mean maybe I am - I was just so certain I saw you two holding hands," Ron said quietly, approaching his friend who had his arms crossed and was looking dejectedly off into space.
Draco was pursing his lips and watching the scene, but was soon distracted by Hermione, whose hand lightly graced his forearm. "Come on, Malfoy, we have work to do," she said softly and Draco huffed before he huddled reluctantly closer to Hermione to mull over the text.
"Ron," Harry turned to his best friend slowly. "You feel like you're going mad? I feel like I should be locked up in St Mungo's."
"Mate, don't tell me..." Ron took a steadying breath, "Are you trying to tell me you actually like the bastard? How in Merlin's beard did that happen?"
Harry shrugged. "If I knew, I would tell you, Ron. And if I knew why, I would tell you that, too. He's such an ass most of the time, but..." he trailed off, flushing, looking over his shoulder at Draco, and found that despite his earlier outburst, a smile was creeping up his face.
Ron's eyes went wide. "You really do like him. Bloody hell," he whispered in disbelief. "How long?"
"I dunno. Maybe since you two went to the Ministry," Harry offered. He truly didn't know himself.
"When he pulled that bollocks on all of us and seriously messed up our plans at getting the Horcrux?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Apparently he was just concerned. He said he couldn't let me go and risk myself like that," Harry mumbled.
"Harry, do you have any idea how insane that sounds, only because it's Malfoy we're talking about here?"
"I know," he sounded defeated.
"How long for him then?" Ron asked slowly.
Harry shrugged. "When I asked, he said he wasn't sure. Perhaps always," he found himself turning red at his own words, especially as he saw Ron's eyes grow incredibly wide.
"And so he treats us all like dirt for six years because he likes you? Harry, this whole thing is seriously messed up, mate."
"Don't I know it," Harry muttered in agreement. "You're not mad, then?"
Ron looked seriously at his best friend. "I dunno, I think I sorta am. I mean, I'm your best mate and you couldn't tell me?"
"Ron, I don't even understand what's happening myself."
"But Hermione, she knew," Ron returned pointedly.
Harry sighed. "Er, well...she kinda saw some things..."
Ron sputtered. "I don't even wanna know." He put his hands up and shook his head. "It's just that it's him, y'know? He is a right Hippogriff's ass and I don't think I can ever bring myself to trust him. Or even begin to like him, especially after what he's done to us, after what he's said to 'Mione all these years."
"I'm not asking you to trust him, I'm asking you to trust me."
"Does this mean you're gay?" Ron asked suddenly, as if it had just struck him.
Harry opened and closed his mouth. "I-I never really thought about it...I guess, sort of. Maybe. I don't know. Is that the problem?"
Ron shook his head quickly. "You know, Charlie..." he trailed off and Harry nodded. "What about Ginny?" he asked softly.
"What about her?" Harry sounded truly oblivious.
"Mate, she's had it in for you for years. Since she met you."
"Ron, your sister is a great girl, but you're like a brother to me, you know?"
"Yeah, I guess that would have been kind of odd," he sighed. "I think I'm just going to need sometime, Harry, to digest it all." Ron said decidedly and looked back over at Draco and Hermione working. "Sometime away from him," he added.
Harry nodded slowly, but then realized that meant time away from him as well, and started to frown. "I'm sorry, Ron," he muttered, but it went either unnoticed or ignored as the redhead turned to leave.
After a few moments, Harry rejoined Hermione and Draco at the table, though this time on Hermione's side. Draco pursed his lips, but didn't say a word as he continued to write down a list of equipment and objects he would need to perform both potions. "Are you alright?" Hermione asked softly after a moment.
Harry slowly nodded. "I think so. I mean, that could have gone a lot worse than it did."
"Yes, well, you know how Ron is," Hermione frowned.
"Yeah, I'll give him 'til next week and if he still hasn't murdered Malfoy in his sleep, we'll know he'll get over it," he said darkly.
"Perhaps the Weasel needs to mind his own business," Draco muttered, eyes never leaving his parchment.
Harry grit his teeth and clenched his fists on the desk. Hermione looked between the two of them and set her quill down. "I think I'll go check on Ron, make sure he really is alright." She excused herself from the room, leaving Harry glaring daggers at the blond who tried his best to remain unaffected.
"Is there something you want to say to me?" Draco finally asked slowly, still not looking up.
"Oh, there are a hundred things I'd like to say to you, Malfoy." Harry snapped but didn't say anything further, and Draco didn't prod. He knew not to poke a temperamental bear with a stick.
Harry finally settled himself at the furthest chair, crossed his arms and leaned back, trying his best to look at and think about anything other than Draco.
Draco looked up at the brunette, before rolling his eyes at his sour state and continuing on with his list, muttering to himself, "This is certainly going to be a lovely evening."