OK, guys. No more chapter updates until next Monday the 30th, remember. (We're skipping the Friday update this week, in other words, and having an extra one today instead.) Thanks for your patience!
Draco POV
"That's it then." McGonagall lowered her wand, yawning. "Excuse me." She patted Draco's shoulder absently. "Good work, Mister Malfoy. I think we've all done all we can – now we'll just have to wait and see. Now, I'm for bed, and I strongly recommend the rest of you do the same. I'll speak to Mister Potter about the modified DA tomorrow."
Draco looked around blearily. Hermione and Snape looked almost as exhausted as McGonagall did – almost as exhausted as Draco felt. He stretched. It was a good exhaustion though – the kind that followed hard work well done. He agreed with McGonagall's assessment – the modified wards were as strong as they could make them. He hoped they would be enough.
He glanced over at Pansy, Luna, and the Weasley trio. They were seated on cushions on the floor – transfigured, they had to be; they looked more Luna's style, with those tassels, and he sincerely doubted Snape kept anything that violent shade of pink in his office – heads bent close together, dark, light, and flaming red hair intermingling as they whispered. They didn't look nearly as tired as Draco's group did, but, then, they hadn't been wrangling and modifying ancient wards for hours, either.
Draco fervently hoped that it would be a very long time before he had to expend quite as much magical energy as he had in the past several hours. He glanced at the clock, shocked to see how late it had gotten. They'd missed dinner. He considered popping down to the kitchens for a snack, but decided he was too tired. Food would just have to wait 'til tomorrow.
Hermione grabbed him as he made his way to the door. "Just a moment, Draco," she said firmly. "We're not quite done."
He turned, frowning, to find she'd been joined by Pansy, Luna, and the Weaselette.
"We're off, mate," said the twin Draco had determined to call George, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Good luck with that," added Fred.
Draco frowned. "Whatever this is, surely it can wait until tomorrow, when I've regained the ability to form a coherent thought," he said, without much hope.
Pansy patted his shoulder. "No, Draco darling, it really can't."
"Although," the Weaselette smirked, "the faster you admit we're right, the faster you can go to bed."
"With Harry," Luna added.
Oh. Draco sighed. "I really don't have the energy for this right now..." he pleaded. But they were entirely unsympathetic.
"Sorry, Draco, but we really must do this before it gets any later," Pansy said. She didn't sound nearly as sorry as Draco would have liked.
"Just listen," Hermione said firmly. "I know you're upset about how Harry acted earlier, and you have some right to be. Harry has always been a bit... volatile, about certain subjects. Surely you've noticed?" She smirked at him, and Draco gave her a tiny smile in return. "But one thing you have to know about Harry," she continued, "especially if you plan on being with him for long, is that his temper burns out almost as quickly as it flares up. I'm afraid he'll probably explode at you often, Draco. You just have to be patient with him, give him a little time and space to think things through, and he'll come round, full of remorse and apologies, before the day is out." She frowned thoughtfully. "I think it probably has something to do with those horrible muggles who raised him. He hasn't told Ron or I much – he prefers not to think of them while he's here, I think – but but he's said enough for me to form some theories."
Draco cracked a smile at that – he couldn't help it. Hermione did like her theories. The smile faded quickly, though. "They abused him," he said flatly. "I saw a bit of it, while we were there. I don't know how Dumbledore could sleep at night, after leaving Harry with those horrid excuses for human beings!" He sighed. They were getting off-topic, and he needed this discussion to end soon so he could sleep. "I know you're right, though. About Harry's temper. I just – "
Luna patted his shoulder. "We know, Draco. All we're asking is that you give Harry another chance."
Draco nodded, yawning. "I guess I can do that."
"Excellent." Ginny clapped him on the shoulder, rather more violently than the others had. "That's all we ask. Now, C'mon. Let's go beg the house elves for some food. I'm starving."
When they got to the kitchens, Draco realized he'd been thoroughly out-maneuvered. Fred and George were sitting at the table, Harry wedged firmly between them. He looked up, breaking off mid-word when Draco walked in.
"Right, we're off, then," said Fred, standing up and clapping Harry on the back.
"C'mon, girls," added George, brandishing a large wicker basket. "We've got grub – let's take it back to the common room and get up a game of exploding snap!"
Luna waved at Draco as they left, and Pansy winked at him. Cheeky bints. They'd planned this. And since when did Pansy willingly hang out in the Gryffindor common room?
He and Harry stood, staring at one another, for long minutes after the others had left. Finally, Harry moved.
"Draco," he breathed, pulling him into his arms. "I'm sorry – I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. It's not your fault I'm in this bloody impossible situation." He moved slightly away from Draco, studying him. "Where were you? I looked all over for you, to apologize."
Draco blushed. "I, er, was sulking down in the dungeons. Hermione found me."
"Oh." Harry frowned. "Did you want me to take your things down there? I mean," he said hurriedly, when Draco felt his face fall, "I don't want to. I want you to come back to my – to our room. With me. Please?"
Draco pulled him close again in answer, hoping his body could say what his words couldn't, when he was this tired. Harry didn't seem to have any difficulty understanding, and he smiled one of his blindingly brilliant smiles. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand. He picked up a much smaller basket with the other. "I've got some food here. We can eat in the room."
Draco, limp with relief, accepted his hand willingly, and let Harry lead him back to their room. They would have to talk more about it tomorrow, he knew, and they would no doubt get into many more similar arguments in the days to come, not to mention that Draco would have to somehow hide his involvement in his secret plotting – even though he was plotting for the right side, this time, he was still plotting – but, for tonight, everything was OK. And that was good enough for him.
Draco woke up the next morning deliciously cozy, wrapped so tightly around Harry that it took him long minutes to sort out which parts were his. He attempted to extricate himself without waking Harry, but failed, as usual. Harry's arm snaked out, pulling Draco tightly against him.
"Nope," he said sleepily, yawning and rubbing his eyes, "not getting away that easily."
Draco huffed in amusement. "Fine. But I really will have to get up in a minute."
"Hmmm," Harry mumbled into the pillow. His arm didn't relax its hold.
Draco waited a few minutes, then shoved at him. "Harry..."
Harry groaned, then slowly lifted his head from the pillow, blinking blearily at Draco and then grinning at him. "G'morning."
Draco snorted. "Good morning to you, too. Now may I get up?"
"Nope. I'm not ready to share you yet." He leaned in and kissed Draco deeply. When they pulled apart, his face turned serious. "I wish we'd had time to do something to get back at the Dursleys before we left."
Draco sighed. They'd discussed this more than once. Draco had been all for punishing them with magic. Harry had argued against that, saying they'd most likely be caught, and Draco certainly didn't need the Ministry breathing down his neck. Which, Draco supposed, was likely true. Draco hadn't mentioned to Harry that he knew several spells that were virtually untraceable, and that used so little magic, it was likely no one would ever know. Nor had he mentioned that he'd used several of them. They were subtle, of course - the muggles would probably never even guess that he'd cursed them.
He'd chosen his enactment of Harry's revenge well, he thought. He'd found the perfect curse for each of them. For Dudley, the dull, doughy cousin, he'd chosen one that would mimic a selection of muggle medical conditions. He would no doubt be horrified to find that his sense of smell (and, therefore, taste) would diminish over the coming months, until he would be unable to taste anything. Then, too, his body would now reject certain foods, becoming unable to process them. Even before he lost his sense of taste, he would find that all of his favorite foods would make him violently ill. And, in the end, it would probably do him good. A limited diet composed mostly of vegetables will do his figure a world of good.
For Vernon, prone to vitriolic explosions, he chose a curse that mimicked a muggle heart condition. His doctors would no doubt limit his diet and caution him to avoid getting worked up - and possibly even give him medications to calm him. A similar diet to Dudley's, and a reason to tamp down on his rage - his family will no doubt be pleased, in the end. The muggle doctors may even recommend he take up something like yoga. He snorted at the mental image.
Petunia had been the trickiest, he thought. She wasn't violent or verbally or physically abusive, like Dudley and Vernon - she was just prejudiced against witches and wizards, and entirely too interested in gossip. And there was the chore list, too. After much thought, Draco had settled on a curse that would dull her hearing and vision just enough that she would be unable to easily snoop on the neighbors from behind her lace curtains. It would also make her crave sweets - more of a punshment for Dudley and Vernon, really - and cause tiny little freak accidents on occasion. Nothing major; nothing enough to catch the notice of the Ministry, like bouts of rogue magic would. Just enough to make her worry that she had managed to "catch" magic from Harry after all. Or that she'd had it all along, like her sister, and it was only now appearing. The doubt would haunt her, Draco knew, and she'd never be able to share her worries with her husband or son, for fear of their prejudice being turned upon her.
Of course, he could never tell Harry. If the Ministry ever did get wind of it, Harry could honestly say he didn't know. If Draco did go down for this, he wasn't going to take Harry down with him. That would defeat the point of the exercise.
"Yeah," Draco said thoughtfully, "too bad." He tugged Harry's face down to his, in a bid to distract him from the topic. To his astonishment - this was Harry he was talking about, after all, and definitely not known for letting things go - it worked.
