Didn't I just say that I would slow down posting? I think I'm addicted... And thanks DheeDixon for your lovely review - I was just pulling your leg before! Really happy to hear you like the story! ^-^
Luna smiled at Harry winningly, a mysterious twinkle glittering in her eye, and pulled him towards the celebratory noise of the Slug Club Christmas Party.
Chapter 21: Pot Calling the Kettle Black
Once passing the threshold into the party, Harry was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people and potent auras filling the atmosphere. He could even smell a bit of Amortentia wafting around and he scowled, put off by the Potion Master's manipulative attempts to seduce his guests into submissive enjoyment. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught sight of Kreacher scowling at the guests while he held a large silver platter, looking ready to skin someone alive. Harry subtly ducked his head at his house elf in greeting and turned just in time to see Slughorn bustling over to him.
"Harry, m'boy!" The man boomed, reeking of port and gouda. "About time, ol' chap! Never took you for being fashionably late – oh my, is this your date?" The man asked abruptly, looking crestfallen.
Harry felt his hackles rise at Slughorn's flared nostrils and obvious distaste as he raked beady eyes over the blonde girl. "Yes, Professor Slughorn," Harry answered coolly. "This is my good friend, Luna Lovegood. Of the Lovegood printing estate."
Slughorn seemed to perk up at that titbit and turned his attentions back to Harry. "Well, I did promise quite a few folks here that you would be bringing a certain someone," the man hinted heavily. "Though a member of the media is always welcome to attend my events!" Slughorn then turned to Luna and gave the unimpressed girl a glittering smile.
Harry had never seen Luna look as disgusted as she did now, the girl usually calm and demure despite her outlandish statements, and he had to hold back a snort as she pursed her lips.
"Luna, dear," Harry asked gently, puling the girl's attention towards him before she insulted the professor with declarations of noticing niggletons up his nose or some such. "Be a dear and get us a punch?"
Luna took the suggestion with grace, nodding her head and wandering off without a word to the surprised professor.
"Ah, a girl of few words. Not many these days, I've noticed," Slughorn intoned wisely and Harry nearly burst into laughter at Slughorn's observation, holding it back with just a twitch of his lips.
"I see you've gathered quite a crowd. You seem to know the most interesting people, Professor," Harry responded lightly.
"Oh yes, Harry. I have quite a good friendship with most here. I taught many of them, you see, and they do like to humour little old me on occasion by attending one of my little get togethers," Slughorn responded in faux humility, a sycophantic smile carving into his round cheeks. Harry sensed the man was fishing for compliments, but Harry was not exactly in the mood to sate a grown man's insecurities so he nodded sagely and watched the throngs of guests with interest.
Harry's arm was suddenly grabbed by Slughorn and he was pulled to a corner of the party, clenching his hands as his nails grew exponentially at the unwelcome touch. He kept his face as relaxed as he could, but he could feel agitation stirring in his chest as the man chortled and bumbled through the crowds, dragging an extremely uncomfortable Harry along with him.
"Harry, m'boy, you really must meet Eldred Worple, and of course the British representative of the vampire community, Sanguini," Slughorn nattered, finally releasing his iron grip as he waved at the men before him as if showcasing his favourite pets.
Harry tilted his head marginally in polite acknowledgement, keeping his attention on the vampire as he looked at Slughorn in paux interest. Worple quickly cut Slughorn off, an eyebrow raising as he appraised Harry.
"Harry Potter! I am simply delighted –" the man gushed, holding out his hand. Harry shook the appendage politely, enjoying the way the man seemed to pale at the feeling of sharpened claws digging into the side of his hand. "Ah, I see the rumours are true," the man stated, pulling back his hand quickly.
Harry hummed in agreeance and watched the slightly nervous man through hooded eyes, a smile plastered politely to his face despite his rather obvious disinterest in the conversation.
"I do think it would be such a good idea to write a biography, you see, of your life," Worple began slowly, suddenly looking a bit more professional and less excitable. "It would only take six or so hours, you see, and I believe the community would adore to truly hear your side of the story."
Harry laughed lightly. "There had been many books written about me, Mr. Worple," Harry answered evenly. "I'm sure my side of the tale would offer little interest compared to the adventurous novels I've read about me published by your firm."
Worple shifted uncomfortably then, looking unsettled by Harry's candour.
Slughorn began to laugh and clapped Harry firmly on the shoulder. "Cheeky sense of humour, isn't that right?" He asked Worple and Sanguini, once more blissfully unaware of the awkward tension in the conversation.
"It is a pleasure to put a voice to the letters," Sanguini interrupted suddenly, his deep tenor reverberating into their little group.
Harry turned to the vampire with a genuine smile. "And a pleasure to meet you in person, Sanguini," Harry answered politely.
"Ah, have you two already met?" Slughorn butt in, eyes glittering in excitement.
"It would be remiss of my duty as representative to not reach out to our own little dark saviour, would it not?" Sanguini whispered to Slughorn, though his attention on Harry never wavered.
Luna broke the staring contest by arriving with drinks and blinking at Worple and Sanguini with interest. "Hello, Mr. Worple. Hello, Mr. Sanguini," Luna quipped brightly.
"Ah, a young seer. Just Sanguini will be fine," the vampire chuckled, taking Luna's hand and kissing it gently. Harry bristled at the action and Sanguini stared at the boy knowingly.
"A seer?" Slughorn gaped, turning his full attention to Luna. "Oh my! You really must attend my next Club meeting, my dear. I will be hosting another in January when we return from Yule, you see."
"Oh, no thank you," Luna answered abruptly, frowning disapprovingly at a shocked Slughorn.
As the man spluttered at her blunt refusal, a commotion in the front of the room caught Harry's attention. Draco was dragged into the room by a firm fist attached to Filch, the blond's eyes glowing silver in his fury and body shaking in rage.
Harry felt his heart leap up into his throat. This was too soon – he would need to adjust his plans. Slughorn followed his line of sight and growled, looking none too pleased that his party was being gatecrashed by a squib and a convicted Death Eater's son. Just as the man moved to deal with the situation, beady eyes looking around the room to make sure no one had noticed the interruption, Harry placed a firm hand on the man's arm and bent his head to hover his lips over Slughorn's ear.
"He's with me, Professor," Harry purred, holding him back.
Slughorn turned to Harry in surprise, blinking rapidly at Harry's tone. He then turned a rather disastrous shade of grey, breathing, "No – it cannot be."
Harry smiled aloofly at the man and wove his way through the crowd, failing to say goodbye to his audience and ignoring the other guests vying for his attention. Draco seemed to relax marginally as Harry approached him, staring at him with sharp intensity.
Snape appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Draco's elbow, stealing his attention from Harry. The tall, ominous man hissed inaudibly at Filch, who let go of Draco as if burned and slithered out of the room quickly.
Harry finally reached Draco's side and smiled tenderly at the blond. Things were about to get a little rough, so he figured he should do his best to quell the oblivious man's nerves.
"Hello, Professor Snape," Harry greeting cordially, looking at the professor amusedly through hooded eyes. As predicted, the professor snarled at Harry and jerked his head towards the door. Harry obeyed the silent command and the trio walked out of the stifling room and into the cool corridor.
"You idiot!" Snape barked at Draco, violently releasing the arm in his vice-like grip with a push. "What are you doing wandering these halls?"
"Harry asked to meet me here," Draco answered simply, staring up at his godfather defensively.
"Potter is a moron," Snape huffed. "You should not be here. Go back to your dorm. Tomorrow will be a stressful day. For all of us."
"I'm sure it will," Harry answered evenly, smiling disarmingly at the bitter man. "But right now is about to get much worse."
Snape and Draco turned to him, the latter looking puzzled, as Harry closed his eyes and focused. Tapping into an instinctual well of magic, magic that had weaved through his core since the blood adoption, he felt the power rise to his call. Harry opened his eyes, a green and silver reflecting the candlelight in animalistic glow, and grabbed Draco's hand.
The magic reached a peak and Harry focused solely on the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place. The magic leapt at his request, binding his hand to Draco's, and they disapparated in a loud crack!
Draco stumbled away from Harry the moment they landed in a heap on the worn carpet of No. 12 Grimmauld Place. He spluttered as he inhaled a puff of dust and whipped his head as he took in his surroundings. Draco leapt to his feet and pointed a wand at Harry, face pale and nostrils flaring.
"It's me, Draco," Harry murmured soothingly, raising his palms to show he was unarmed. "I just had to… Adjust the plans a bit."
Draco glared at him apprehensively, keeping his wand unwaveringly trained on the Black heir and jaw set firmly.
"It's me," Harry repeated steadily, eyebrows drawing together. "Ron's wand backfired in second year when he tried to curse you for calling Hermione of mudblood. He was vomiting slugs all night."
Draco's eyes glinted and Harry felt the tip of the hawthorn wand sparkling in uncast magic.
"We saw the Dark Lord drinking unicorn blood in first year during detention in the Forbidden Forest," Harry continued softly. Silver, molten eyes shuttered and Draco lowered his wand, breathing deeply through his nose.
"I never told anyone that," Draco whispered distantly, frowning. "Where's my mother?"
"Dobby's getting her. He'll apparate her to Hogwarts and Kreacher will bring her here. I'm expecting them any moment," Harry answered, relived that Draco finally believed him.
"Wait," Draco barked, the sudden noise jarring and Harry found himself immediately grateful that he had found a way to silence the portrait of Walburga Black over the summer. "Kreacher's not here? He's busy?"
"Kreacher will be along any minute," Harry responded, surprised by Draco's sharp tone. "He's –"
Draco leapt at Harry so quickly that the raven gasped in surprise, laughing as he hit the floor. Draco's lips sealed against his, hands wrapping into tangled hair and moaning deeply against his mouth.
"Draco," Harry breathed, still laughing between deep kisses as he was smothered by a frantic blond. "Seriously – mmph – they'll be here any –"
A large crack sounded in the hallway and a voice screeched, "Draco Lucius Malfoy!"
Draco groaned against Harry's lips and rested his head against Harry's forehead. Harry froze in horror, shrinking under Draco's large frame and burying his hands in the lapels of Draco's robes, holding the blond over him.
"Hello, mother," Draco greeted, still looking into Harry's eyes and lips twisting in a smirk.
Harry felt his face grow ashen as the woman barked coldly, "Get up, you animal."
Kreacher could be heard whining in the background, clearly horrified that his failure to uphold his Chaperone duties was witnessed by Narcissa Malfoy nee Black.
Draco sighed dramatically, gently unwrapping Harry's hands from his clothes and standing to his feet. He pulled the smaller man up with him and brushed dust off Harry's shoulders nonchalantly, as if completely undisturbed by the turn of events. Draco then turned to his mother and smiled, reaching out his arms to hug the affronted woman.
"Hello, mother," Draco began cheerfully, perhaps a little cheekily.
Narcissa reached out and slapped Draco abruptly, the sharp, loud noise echoing in the room. Harry felt himself tense immediately, the hairs on his arms rising as his mind grew feral. Narcissa stared at Draco for a few moments, oblivious to Harry's anger, as Draco scowled and looked away, cheek pink from her hand. She then released a broken sob, a heartbreaking sound of distress, and grabbed him tightly into a hug.
"Don't you 'hello mother' me, young man," Narcissa murmured into Draco's shoulder as they embraced warmly. "Not a word of any of this and then I get kidnapped from my own home! By an estranged elf, none the less. Oh, the cheek of you," she babbled into his frame, Draco's arms holding her tightly.
"I'm so sorry, mother," Draco soothed, running his hair over the woman's unusually unkept hair. "I wanted to tell you, I did. We just couldn't write you anything while you lived with him."
Narcissa pulled back from the embrace and held Draco at arm's length, studying his expression with a critical eye.
"We have much to discuss," Narcissa told Draco firmly. "I shall meet you in the library. Clean up and meet me there in ten minutes precisely." Narcissa then turned to Kreacher and raised an eyebrow. "I will deal with you later," she told the elf primly. "For now, fetch us tea service."
Kreacher nodded so quickly that his long ears flapped and he disapparated without another word.
Narcissa then straightened, brushing dust of the edge of her robes in disgust, and strolled to the library in regal grace.
Harry looked at Draco, stunned. Narcissa had not addressed him at all, neither speaking nor even looking at him during the entire ordeal. Harry wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Clearly, the woman did not approve.
"She can be a bit… Much," Draco muttered awkwardly into the now silent hallway. "She is fairly protective of me and –"
"It's okay," Harry interrupted, suddenly exhausted and realising that the last thing he wanted to do was to be coldly ignored in his own home while he explained the situation to a block of ice. Though, Harry realised, Narcissa most likely considered the ancestral house to be rightfully hers.
"I understand, Draco, I really do," Harry continued, sighing. "I think. I've not had a mother to contend with, but I did grow up with my aunt fluttering over my cousin like a possessive, demented butterfly."
Draco looked up at Harry in surprise. Harry had never discussed his family before, nor his childhood pre-Hogwarts, despite Draco's attempts to bully, push and prod (and occasionally manipulate) stories from him.
"Shall we?" Draco asked softly, gesturing towards the hallway to the library. Harry shook his head, leaning against the wall for support as his mind slowed. The stress and activity of the past school term finally caught up with him, his carefully laid out plans now in action and he could rest for once. Harry couldn't wait to retreat to Sirius' room, to enjoy the soft mattress and pillows and not have to sneak out of bed before his other roommates awoke as he did in the Gryffindor dorm. Harry decided immediately that he would spend the first day of the holidays sleeping in.
"I'm really tired," Harry answered distantly, turning on his heel and making his way up the stairs. "Catch up with your mum. Kreacher will organise you a room. I'd advise against the topmost floor, the fourth that is. There's just access to the roof terrace, the owlry, and Sirius and Regulus' old rooms. I'll be up there. Make yourself at home," Harry called out behind him as he trudged up the stairs, too tired to look behind him at an undoubtedly affronted Draco.
Once Harry finally slipped into Sirius' room after what felt like an eternity of climbing stairs, he collapsed on the enormous four poster bed and instantly fell asleep.
"Masters Harry!" A voice squeaked from the side of Harry's bed. At first, Harry tried to open his eyes but he was blissfully floating in the boundary of sleep and he sighed into the comforter as he buried deeper into the warm linens.
"Masters Harry!" The voice repeated, more firmly. Harry groaned, knowing that Kreacher wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Not with that tone.
"I'm up," Harry groaned into a pillow.
"No, yous not being up! Get ups! Ups now!" Kreacher demanded petulantly, clearly in a bad mood. Harry wondered how on earth he had gone nearly sixteen years without parents before being bestowed a grouchy house elf as a mother. It must be another cruel universe joke, Harry thought in despair.
"Fine, fine, fine," Harry grumbled, pulling himself up. "What time is it?"
"It's being nine in the morning! Masters Harry being very lazy," the elf berated as Harry blinked blearily at him through the morning light filtering into the bedroom.
Harry moaned miserably. "Nine am? Are you serious, Kreacher? It's the first day of holidays!" He protested, though he swung his feet over the side of the bed obediently. He allowed himself to be pushed by the back of his thighs into the ensuite bathroom, ignoring the elf's insane mutterings.
"Okay, geez," Harry whined, closing the door firmly behind him. Once the door was locked and Kreacher could be heard loudly disapparating out of the bedroom, Harry sighed and slid down the door. Today is going to suck. So, so very much, Harry thought irritably, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes.
Harry finally worked up the energy to shave the five o'clock shadow on his jaw with a well-cast barber charm, use a considerable amount of hot water during his shower, and tidy himself fussily into a fairly decent state. He was grateful that the Black genes tamed his hair somewhat, though unless he spent a few minutes combing the tangled mess it still looked like a bird's nest. Harry fretted in the ensuite for a few minutes, realising that he had put off going downstairs for as long as possible and would have to face the music.
After dressing in his godfather's muggle jeans and one of Regulus' soft shirts (an outfit sure to affront Narcissa Malfoy's respectability), he trudged down the stairs. Even though he could apparate, he didn't particularly want to speed up the process and slowly took each step at a time. Merlin, it's like I'm going to execution, Harry thought suddenly. He shook his head, exasperated, and steeled his nerves. Gryffindor courage, my arse, he thought bitterly as he picked up the pace to the kitchens. Clearly doesn't apply to bigoted, overprotective mother-in-laws.
Harry walked into the kitchens with purpose and blanched, blinking in surprise. The large room was empty, save for a muttering Kreacher once more knitting by the hearth and rocking back and forth in a tiny rocking chair.
"Morning," Harry ventured.
Kreacher didn't look up at him and instead scowled, pearling ferociously. Harry had a moment of déjà vu, recalling the first night he and Kreacher met after Sirius' death. Clearly, the elf was still upset that Harry and Draco had embarrassed the Chaperone elf in front of 'Miss Cissy' the night before.
Harry walked over the elf and crouched down, leaning back on his haunches as Kreacher studiously ignored him. "I'm sorry, Kreacher," Harry whispered sincerely. "I didn't mean for you two to find us like that."
Kreacher's nostrils flared, but he kept his mouth sealed tightly as he rocked even harder.
"I know, I know," Harry murmured, looking at his elf through his eyelashes. "Shameful."
Kreacher looked at him then, slowing his rocking as his lips pursed and he arched invisible eyebrows imperiously. The elf then raised a tiny hand and whacked Harry on the top of his head harshly. Harry reared back in surprise and fell back on his bum, hands splayed behind him as he sprawled on the floor.
"Kreacher, stop hurting Harry," Draco announced as he breezed into the room. "It was my fault, anyway. Don't go neutering me or anything, though. Mother would have your head."
Harry blushed at Draco's flippant words, standing to his feet quickly and brushing dust off his jeans. "Hi," Harry said and then promptly blushed harder at the breathiness in his tone.
Draco turned to him, silver eyes glittering in amusement and lips quirking in a smile. "Hey," he answered, leaning against the kitchen table and crossing his ankles casually.
"None of that, yous!" Kreacher finally burst out into the silence. "Yous stop making eyes at each others right now!"
Draco's face twisted as he tried to hold back a snort of laughter, lips curling in on themselves as he sealed his mouth tightly. Harry smiled at him cheekily and walked over to the blond, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and then quickly ducking back to the stoves.
Draco looked both surprised and pleased by Harry's forwardness, especially considering Harry very rarely initiated first contact. He sat down at the table as Harry started pulling out ingredients from the shelves and put a kettle on the stove to boil.
"What would you like for breakfast?" Harry asked Kreacher domestically, surveying the ingredients.
"Pancakes," the elf answered, returning to his knitting and rocking slowly.
"I've not met anyone who cooks for their house elf," Draco quipped. Both Harry and Kreacher turned to stare at the blond, the latter with a dangerous expression darkening his tiny, wrinkled face.
"Kreacher's not my house elf," Harry responded as he returned to the breakfast preparations. "He's practically an honorary Black. Besides, the least I can do is make him his favourite breakfast when he's mad at me."
Kreacher responded with an emotional sniffle at Harry's statement and the elf sneered wetly at Draco. Draco rolled his eyes and thanked Harry as a cup of tea was floated to the table.
Once the pancakes were flipped and the table set, Harry sat down at the table and Kreacher joined them. Draco kept his mouth shut as Kreacher glared at him from across the table, daring the blond to protest his presence at breakfast. Draco smiled politely (if not a little sneeringly) at the elf and Kreacher stuck his tongue out at the Malfoy heir when Harry wasn't looking.
Harry studiously ignored the warring elf and man, watching them out of the corner of his eye as they thought he didn't notice their childish behaviour. Harry looked up at the ceiling, begging the gods for patience, just as Narcissa walked into the kitchens.
The woman was considerably more composed than the night before. Her long, blonde hair flowed generously over her shoulders like a waterfall and her well-tailored robes were fitted to her in a modest, fashionable style. She was the epitome of pureblood beauty and class, making Harry feel suddenly uncomfortable and a little ashamed of the current shabbiness of Grimmauld Place.
Harry looked up at her through hooded eyes, dipping his head in acknowledgement as he stood to prepare her a cup of tea. The prim woman pursed her lips, nose flaring slightly as she sat next to Draco directly across from Kreacher and nodded curtly as Harry slid a cup of tea (in the house's finest china) before her. A warm plate of pancakes was placed in front of her as well and Harry felt himself cringe at the sight of Narcissa Malfoy sneering down her nose at disformed blueberry pancakes, looking as if she would rather eat Kreacher's tunic off the elf's quivering frame.
To Harry's surprise, the woman picked up her silverware with great practice, delicately slicing the food and placing a morsel in her mouth with elegant care. She breathed through her nose as if to steady herself and continued eating slowly. Harry sat down and looked down at his food, appetite vanishing under the awkward tension filling the silent room save for the clinking of china and silver.
A few moments passed as Narcissa appeared to struggle with her meal and Draco eating just as elegantly as his mother in effortless etiquette. The blond man seemed completely at ease in the room, as if used to strained family meals and taking the situation with stride. After Narcissa had barely eaten half her breakfast, Harry pushing bits of his food around moodily, the woman placed her silverware down and patted her lips with a fabric napkin.
"That was excellent, Mr. Potter," Narcissa announced stiltedly.
"Come off it, mother," Draco drawled, leaning back in his chair in amusement. "You hate pancakes. You think they're plebeian."
Narcissa looked at her son in irritation. "Whether or not I dislike pancakes has nothing to do with manners and thanking one's host. Sit up," she snapped. Draco laughed dismissively and leaned back further, legs sprawling under the table.
Harry jumped as he felt a foot sidle up against his, the soft fabric of a sock running along his ankle. He blushed deeply and studied his food, as if fascinated with the blueberries, though he felt marginally better at Draco's touch.
"And it is Potter-Black," Draco continued, unruffled. "He's technically your Lord, mother."
"I know that very well, Draco," Narcissa hissed, hackles rising at her son's impudence.
Harry and Kreacher shared meaningful, desperate looks, both shifting uncomfortably and itching to disapparate (damn the consequences).
"You are hardly being a gracious guest," Draco taunted his mother dismissively, his foot still rubbing soothingly against Harry's denim covered ankle. "I could cut the tension in the room with a spoon."
Narcissa stood so quickly that her chair toppled over behind her. She grabbed the collar of Draco's robes, ignoring the blond's appalled expression, and dragged him out of his chair. Despite being nearly a head shorter than her son, she pulled him with the practiced ease of manhandling one's child and began to pull him towards the door. Narcissa pushed the protesting blond through the doorway and turned to face an ashen Harry and a trembling Kreacher, expression disarmingly blank.
"I would like to request an audience with you both in the library, if you please," Narcissa stated politely, recovering effortlessly from her irritation and now playing the perfect part of pureblood guest.
Harry stared at the woman, a little frightened by her about-face, and she smiled wanly. He realised that Narcissa was making a point to Draco, showing her son that she could still behave with dignity even in the sorely lacking company of a half-blood and house elf. Harry felt even more nervous than before as Narcissa did not even pretend to hide the fact she was utterly resentful of the current situation and wore her gracious mask with alarming mockery. She then turned on her heel and pushed her son down the hallway.
Once both blonds were out of earshot, Kreacher slowly exhaled a deep breath he had been holding.
"Miss Cissy being very angry," Kreacher whispered unhelpfully, tugging at his ears.
Harry turned wide, distressed eyes on his elf and shrugged helplessly. Kreacher made quick work of cleaning the dishes and they both took a moment to centre themselves before following the two Malfoys to the Black Library.