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No Church in the Wild

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Counting Stars

Harry had to make a serious physical and mental effort to hold himself back.

He knew if he bothered Hermione again, she'd blow up at him again. Even more than she already had. He'd become a pest in her eyes, that much was evident. Not an hour before, she'd responded to one of his simple queries with excessive dramatics, in his opinion.

"Harry I swear if you come and ask me one more time if I've had any breakthroughs I won't be able to help myself!" she'd practically screeched, turning in her chair to face him, wand held in a most threatening manner.

Ron had scratched at the back of his head, sitting across from her at the table, looking awkward and unsure of who to support. So he'd remained silent. The traitor.

Recognizing that he was alone in this battle, Harry backed off, palms up at his sides. "All right, all right!"

It was hard though. Harry remained pacing behind her, worrying at his thumbnail.

"You look ridiculous."

Harry saw Malfoy smirking from where he lounged on his bunk, dressed in over-sized sweat pants and an old jumper that Ron's mum had knitted for Harry last year, bits of yarn coming loose around the neck and wrists. Teacup in hand, open book on his lap, Harry thought he was looking a bit healthier then he had the other day. More rested. Of course this meant he was back to being his usual insulting, insufferable self. And it didn't help matters that Harry was in an agitated mood, which was exactly the sort of thing that would put Malfoy in better spirits, he knew.

This was a rare instance where Harry almost didn't mind being insulted by Malfoy though, because it gave him something else to focus on. "Yeah? I look ridiculous?" he repeated, stopping to face him. He had a fleeting impulse to say something about how 'ridiculous' Malfoy looked when he'd been rolling around, delirious in his pain- but the words died on his tongue. It hadn't been funny. It hadn't been something he'd ever wanted to see. He launched a halfhearted barb instead, "What are you reading over there? Is that the same book you've been reading since you bloody got here? How slow are you Malfoy?"

Malfoy glanced down at the copy of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. "What can I say," he drawled, "Rita Skeeter knows how to write an engaging plot. No matter how many times I've read through it, I can't seem to put it down."

"Engaging plot," Harry scoffed, switching back to English and dropping the Parseltongue. "Right. Rita Skeeter wouldn't know an engaging plot if it came and bit her in the-"

"What did you say!"

He jumped, turning. Hermione was staring him down, eyes intense. "Harry, what did you say just now!" she demanded again.

"Erm..." he stuttered, replaying it in his mind, trying to think what she'd apparently found offensive.

Ron cut-in and answered for him, grinning, "He said Rita Skeeter wouldn't know an engaging plot if it came and bit her in her big, fat arse!"

As he finished, Hermione shifted her gaze to him, blinking slowly. "Oh. My. God." She appeared as if she'd just been knocked in the head or something.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, grin slipping. "I was embellishing a bit, but it's basically what Harry said-"

"I know what they are! I know what the numbers are!" she cried out, ecstatic, "The runes! Oh my god Ron!" And she jumped forward, leaning over the table, knocking over her piles of books and scrolls and grabbed his face on either side, planting a kiss right on his lips.

She pulled back, diving down into her papers, tearing through them. Ron was left sitting there, staring at nothing- now he was the one who resembled a person who'd been knocked in the head.

"He's going to draw flies if he doesn't close that trap soon," Malfoy said casually, though he couldn't completely hide the surprise in his own voice.

Ignoring his besotted friend and Malfoy both, Harry rushed to Hermione's side. He felt a bolt of excitement. "What is it? What do the numbers mean?" he asked with anticipation.

"Hold on, hold on," she said, scattering parchments and throwing books out of her way. Literally, she was throwing them off the table, where they landed haphazardly on the floor near or on her bunk. Finally, at the very bottom of the pile she revealed a folded, wrinkly paper. "Here it is!"

She took the paper, spreading it out over the table. It was much bigger than it had appeared at first. As she was trying to even out the crinkled parts, Harry recognized it. An old, faded map of Britain.

"The Runes. The numbers," Hermione said, taking a parchment where she'd scribbled the translations from Malfoy's scars, placing it on the side of the map. "They're plot points! It's a geographic location! Longitude, latitude!"

He watched her grab a quill, dipping it in the inkwell before beginning to make small marks on the map. "You're brilliant," Harry said, utterly impressed.

Ron rose from his chair, apparently having recovered from his shock. He was shaking his head as he watched her. "Amazing Hermione."

"Thank you," she said, distracted, "I'm trying to... but it's not making sense..." she bit her lip, confused, eyes darting from her scribbles to the map, "no, it's not working... it's not... Oh!" She smacked a hand to her forehead, looking exasperated at herself. "We don't have all the numbers! Draco's back, we never looked- we never translated the Runes on his back..."

She trailed off and it was in near unison that they turned, Harry, Hermione and Ron, to look at Malfoy.

He had just lifted the teacup halfway to his mouth, and he froze in that position, looking back at their expectant faces, his eyebrows high.

"Draco, please," Hermione said, breaking the silence, "we need those numbers to find the location."

Malfoy lowered the cup. "Tell her to stop calling me Draco, Potter."

"Did you even hear what she just said?" Harry returned in Parseltongue, ignoring his demand, "Malfoy, come on, without those numbers, we can't do this."

"What, she didn't get enough of an eyeful before? Better warn Weasley about the competition." Malfoy said, snorting as if amused. But his bitter tone betrayed him. His shoulders had hunched up and he looked uncomfortable. "She's probably not even right about it being plot points. A wild guess, really."

As he watched Malfoy put his cup down on the short stool next to his bunk, Harry struggled to remain calm and remind himself that Malfoy had never seen Hermione work things out before, not outside the context of schooling at Hogwarts. He hadn't ever seen her put all the clues and pieces together so they could go off and destroy Voldemort's plans, and that perhaps Harry himself would feel the same way if he was in the Slytherin's position.

But there was another, frustrated and impatient part of him that felt like taking the leftover sleeping draught and shoving it down Malfoy's throat so they could carry on with it.

Harry took a steadying breath, pushing down his annoyance. "We'll find out after we get all the numbers then, won't we?"

Now he was annoyed too: "Yeah? Ever think perhaps I'm not interested to find out, Potter?"

"Malfoy, I can't stress enough how much this isn't about what you happen to be interested in-" He felt a pressure on his arm and turned to see Hermione looking up at him, shaking her head a little. Even though she couldn't understand a word he was saying, she apparently didn't think he was handling this conversation in the most sensitive way possible.

"Draco," Hermione said, sounding much calmer than Harry had been able to achieve. She stood from her chair and took a step towards him, pretending not to notice how Malfoy tensed in response. Sagaciously ignoring the glowering, unpleasant look he gave her. "I know you're unhappy with what happened the other day and I am so, so sorry about that, but I- we would all really, very much appreciate it if you would let us try and find the other Runes. It could lead us somewhere that will help to destroy Voldemort... I'm sure of it. Or at the very least, it will take us one step closer and pointed in the right direction..."

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, frowning deeply, no doubt about to tell her off and leave Harry with the responsibility of interpreting his harsh and angry words- when Ron, who had been watching the proceedings in silence, suddenly interrupted: "Besides," he spoke up, chin resting on one hand, "these Runes might help you find your mum, mightn't they?"

The sudden intensity of Malfoy's stare at hearing this unexpected statement was almost frightening.

"Why?" His eyes darted between Ron, to Harry, and back again. "How'd he get that idea? Ask him!"

Harry repeated this for him, wondering himself what Ron was getting at, and how he'd come to that conclusion.

"Well, the ritual that got those Runes put on him in the first place had to do with locating Narcissa, didn't it? Makes sense to me that it might have something to do with her again."

Malfoy shifted his focus to Hermione. "Is that what you think?" he demanded, "We could find her?"

Again, Harry translated. Hermione bit her lip as he finished. She looked unsure, unwilling to commit, and she answered slowly, "I- I guess, yes, I could see that being the case-"

Malfoy's entire face changed. The surly suspicion was gone, replaced with a spark of hope and a sudden determination. Harry glanced at Hermione. She was not pleased, her brows drawn together, frowning and she went on quickly to add, "It's a possibility, anyway! One of many possibilities, though, so you shouldn't get your hopes up for-"

Malfoy wasn't listening. He'd thrown Rita Skeeter's book from his lap, shifting to the edge of the bunk. He still moved slowly, as if his muscles were stiff, but with a little difficulty, he grabbed the back of his jumper and pulled it up and over his head.

"Let's go," he ordered, mutilated chest exposed for the first time of his own volition, "tell her to get on with it."

"Go on, Hermione," Harry said promptly, trying to hide the surprise in his voice. He was half-convinced Malfoy might change his mind. "He's all right with it."

"But, I- it's important that he understands this might not lead to Narcissa at all-"

Malfoy glared at her. Her doubt only seemed to be making him angry.

"Hermione..." Harry started as she stood there in indecision, sending her a beseeching look. If she caused Malfoy to reconsider doing this... if her sudden need for complete disclosure made Malfoy change his mind... he didn't know what he'd do... they were so close to finally making some progress.

"Come on!" Malfoy barked.

Finally, she gave a big huff and began gathering her Ancient Runes book and quill. She wasn't moving as quickly as he'd like though, and Harry had to stop himself from urging her on. She still looked conflicted about the whole thing. He wanted to remind her that this was exactly what they'd wanted to happen and just because it might not produce the results Malfoy hoped for didn't change the fact that it was going to help them get closer to continuing their task of destroying Horcruxes, or perhaps finding the Deathly Hallows. Right now, he'd take either. And if it did turn out to lead them to Narcissa instead... well, it wasn't ideal, but they'd deal with that too.

But he didn't say any of these thoughts aloud, instead, he stayed quiet and took a seat across from Ron at the table. Though Malfoy hadn't specifically stated he didn't want them helping Hermione to study the scars on his back, it wasn't something that really needed to be said. Harry thought it very likely if he or Ron had tried going over there, Malfoy would have pulled his wand on them. So they remained at the table as Hermione carefully took a seat next to Malfoy on the bunk.

He turned, one foot on the tent floor, so she could get a good look.

Biting her lip, looking uncomfortable, she imitated his stance behind him, book spread in the space between them.

Hermione began repeating the same routine she'd done before: find a Rune symbol, write it down, and translate it. She didn't have Harry's assistance this time, but Hermione being Hermione, it didn't seem to matter and she was doing a cracking job on her own. As the time passed, whenever Harry looked over to see how it was going, she seemed to be scratching down yet another symbol in her book.

Unsurprisingly, Harry supposed, Ron didn't seem pleased. Fingers tapping at the table distractedly, his mouth set in an even line. Harry thought this reaction very ironic, since it was Ron's own comment about possibly locating Narcissa that had caused this Rune-search to even happen, which Ron had been well aware of before he'd said anything about it, Harry was sure.

So for his sake, Harry tried to keep his conflicted friend occupied with some small talk, but inevitably Ron's eyes would drift back towards the two. "Don't know if she has to be so close to him though..." he observed darkly.

Harry glanced back, afraid Malfoy had heard and would make some sarcastic comment that Ron would somehow decipher and cause another row between the two. But if he had heard, he'd decided to ignore it. Malfoy kept his head bent, staring down at the bunk, and he said nothing. The only movement from him was his wand hand. He spun the dark stick between his fingers, one to the next and back again.

"I think there's one up on your head Draco," Hermione spoke after a long period of silence, "I can't see properly though, can you lift it please." When he complied she held up her wand, leaning close, squinting. "Lumos." Malfoy's hair was still short so it didn't need to be brushed out of her way. Now that he thought about it, Harry realized Malfoy's hair didn't seem to be growing at all. It still had the shaved look he'd had the first day he'd been turned back to a human. Harry wondered if that could somehow be part of the transformation curse Voldemort had put on him. Or maybe it had to do with the mysterious blood ritual.

Hermione pulled back. "Got it. Good thing your hair is so light," she said, lifting her quill and scribbling away, "I mightn't have made it out otherwise. It's a Fwooper."

Ron scooted back in his chair and it made a loud, scratchy, creak. Harry looked back and saw his friend had crossed his arms and was looking quite grim. "Almost done?" Ron said with a bit more force then he'd probably been aiming for. "Eh Hermione?"

Malfoy turned. He and Ron were making very nearly the same expression. "Inform that clod that I'm no more happy than he is with this current situation," he said sharply. "And tell Granger I don't care if she's found a Fwooper ora Foper or a fucker- or whatever else. I don't need the running bloody commentary! She can keep it to herself!"

Harry sighed heavily. He hated being the designated translator for someone who lacked manners and basic respect for other human beings.

Despite the distractions though, eventually, it happened. It seemed to take forever, but finally Hermione sat back. She rubbed her eyes before pulling the Ancient Runes book up onto her lap, letting the cover fall closed.

"Are you...?" Harry started, hopeful. At some point in the long hour that had passed since she'd started, he'd laid his arms on the table, his head resting on top, but now he lifted it, watching her. Across from him, Ron sat up from his slouched position.

"I'm done Draco. You can put your shirt on." She looked over at them, smiling as she made the announcement: "We've got all the numbers now."

this chapter is named after a song by OneRepublic