Chapter 52

A Sluggish Holiday

Harry frowned. It has been two weeks since Lucius Malfoy's funeral, and he hadn't heard or seen Draco since. He spent his days in Grimmauld Place bored and wanting to go… somewhere. Every day he was getting letters from the Daily Prophet and witches and wizards for interviews, dinner dates, meetings, and even marriage proposals. Harry threw each and every one out, wanting nothing to do with them. He tried going out once, just for a walk, but Sirius and Lupin stopped him. The Order had decided to place Harry under "house-arrest" as several Death Eaters would want revenge. Harry was furious when Mad-Eye Moody and Dumbledore told him, but was forced to cool down when Sirius warned him he would wake Teddy. Harry just threw them a sharp look and went to his room.

He hadn't opened the twins' gift yet. The package was still laying on his desk, the brown parcel paper wrapped around the unknown contents. Harry stared at it for the longest time before moving from his bed to the desk. He pulled the parcel towards him and saw George's handwriting. "To Harry Potter, from Weasley Twins. P.S. Open when alone."

Harry stared at the package cautiously as he fingered the string holding the parcel paper together. He lightly pulled an end of the string, and the knot loosely came apart. The paper fell open as the string did, and Harry saw a purple box with small strips, and the shop's logo on the lid of the box. Harry took off the lid and saw that on top of whatever was in the box was a letter with his name on it.

Harry took the letter and replaced the lid. He opened the letter and read it.

Hiya Harry,

Thanks for the money to start Weasley's Wizard Wheezes! George and I have decided to make you and Draco honorary members of our shop, and with that comes special deals and exclusive items from all of our selections. Even our elite section, open for a selected few! (Don't worry, you don't need to win raffles to get in, you and Draco are members for life!) To show our thanks we've enclosed some of our most popular items, as well as items you can only get from our Elite section. We have many guys asking for these hot items, so you and Draco enjoy them!

Colin told us what you guys did at the Ministry… and we want to say good show! Great job showing old Moldy-mort who's boss! And George especially wants to thank you and Ron for taking care of our little worker! We don't know what we would do if any of his assess were harmed! But he told us that he was in peak-top condition so thanks! Cedric wanted us to invite you and Draco to our flat during the summer. This is from the money-maker, so you and Draco better show.

Love ya Harry!

Fred and George Weasley

Co-Owners of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes

P.S. If you and Draco love our gifts, don't be afraid to buy more from us! And tell your friends! Tell your relatives! Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes got everything for your wizarding needs!

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the letter and placed it to the side. Maybe it would be a good thing if he and Draco pay them a visit. But first he needed to get out of Grimmauld Place. He turned his attention to the box and pulled it closer to him. He opened the lid again and started taking things out. Extendable-Ears, Fanged Frisbee, various trick wands, Exploding Whizz Poppers, Fred-N-George's Pyrotechnix Compendium, the list went on and on as Harry pulled out joke-product after joke-product. Harry was slightly surprised, he was expecting something lewd, but it was just joke products. Harry neatly placed the products back in their boxes and replaced the lid.

He was getting thirsty, so he decided to go down to the kitchen for a drink. He was surprised when he saw Dumbledore there, sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of tea with Sirius and Lupin. "Ah, Harry my boy, I was wondering when you would come down," Dumbledore chuckled. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Err… no thank you Professor, what are you doing here if may ask?" Harry asked.

"Ahh, well I was talking with your godparents here about a sort of mission that I think you would be perfect for," Dumbledore said.

"What is it?" Harry asked, a sense of excitement growing in the Slytherin. Was Dumbledore going to ask him to help capture remaining Death Eaters?

"Well, it is more of a recruitment mission," Dumbledore chuckled. "As you know, we somehow always find ourselves short of staff every year. You and I are going to go and ask an old friend, and offer him a position."

"Oh…" Harry said, slightly disappointed.

"And afterwards… Lupin and I agreed that you could spend the rest of the summer with Ron," Sirius said. "We see you moping about here and think you'll be happier with Ron."

Harry looked at Sirius and Lupin and frowned. "No, no, no," he said quickly. "It's not that I'm not happy here, God I am, very happy, but it's just that—"

"You miss them, we know that," Sirius smirked. "But you have to understand that we're doing this for your safety. There's still Death Eaters out there and we don't want you to be in any unneeded danger."

"I can take care of myself," Harry argued.

"We know that Harry," Lupin said. "It's just we're worried for you. After what happened the last few years, you can give us that."

Harry frowned but said nothing. He turned to Dumbledore and waited for him to move. Dumbledore nodded to Sirius and Lupin. "It was good talking to you two again. Don't worry about Harry's luggage; it is already on its way to the Burrow as we speak. Come along Harry, it is getting late, and I am sure we both could use sleep after this. Goodbye boys."

"See you Dumbledore," Sirius said.

"Goodbye Dumbledore. We'll see you before you leave for Hogwarts Harry," Lupin said. He and Sirius stood up and hugged Harry goodbye. Dumbledore waited by the door, and opened it for Harry as they both stepped into the night. Harry felt distinctly awkward as they set off down Grimmauld Place together. He had never had a proper conversation with the headmaster outside of Hogwarts before; there was usually a desk between them. Dumbledore, however, seemed completely relaxed.

"Keep your wand at the ready, Harry," he said brightly.

"But I thought I'm not allowed to use magic outside school, sir?"

"If there is an attack," Dumbledore said, "I give you permission to use any counterjinx or curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need to worry about being attacked tonight."

"Why not, sir?"

"You are with me," Dumbledore said simply. "This will do, Harry."

He came to an abrupt halt at the end of Grimmauld Place. "Sir…" Harry said, "Why is it you don't let me help capture the remaining Death Eaters? Sirius and Remus go out, but never me."

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," Dumbledore said, apparently ignoring Harry's complaint.

"No sir," Harry said. "But still—"

"You may have defeated Voldemort Harry, but you are still young. And this battle is not for the young. I am sorry that this responsibility fell onto you, but now that Voldemort is gone you have the chance of living a normal life. A life in which your only concerns should be what you have gotten on your O.W.L.s," Dumbledore chuckled. "Not that you have anything to worry about, of course."

"But sir, I still want to help," Harry said. "I want to help get the remaining Death Eaters. And what about the Dementors who all moved from Azkaban?"

"Those are problems for both the Aurors and the Order, Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry gave him a sharp look, which he chuckled at. "But, if you still feel this urge for Justice after you graduate Hogwarts, I am sure there still will be Death Eaters and sympathizers for you to catch. Now, you'll need to hold on to my arm very tightly now for Apparition."

Harry gripped Dumbledore's proffered forearm.

"Very good," Dumbledore said. "Well, here we go."

Harry felt Dumbledore's arm twist away from him and redoubled his grip; the next thing he knew, everything went black; he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull and then—

He gulped great lungfuls of cold night air and opened his streaming eyes. He felt as though he had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube. It was a few seconds before he realized that Grimmauld Place had vanished. He and Dumbledore were now standing in what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the center of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches. His comprehension catching up with his senses, Harry realized that he had just Apparated for the first time in his life.

"Are you all right?" Dumbledore asked, looking down at him solicitously. "The sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'm fine," Harry said, rubbing his ears, which felt as though they had left Grimmauld Place rather reluctantly. "But I think I might prefer brooms. …"

Dumbledore smiled, drew his traveling cloak a little more tightly around his neck, and said, "This way."

He set off at a brisk pace, past an empty inn and a few houses. According to a clock on a nearby church, it was almost midnight.

"So tell me Harry, has your scar been hurting at all?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," Harry said, "and I've been wondering about that. Shouldn't it stop hurting when Voldemort died?"

"I assume so Harry," Dumbledore said. They turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. Harry looked sideways at Dumbledore. "Professor?"

"Harry?"

"Er—where exactly are we?"

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"And this is where your old friend lives?" Harry asked.

"At the moment, yes," Dumbledore said. "As I have said before, we are once again one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

"And you want me to help you," Harry said.

"Precisely Harry," Dumbledore said. "Ah, left here."

They proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. All the windows were dark. Thinking of dementors with the chill, Harry cast a look over his shoulder and grasped his wand reassuringly in his pocket.

"Professor, why couldn't we just Apparate directly into your old colleague's house?"

"Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door," Dumbledore said. "Courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying us entry. In any case, most Wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At Hogwarts, for instance—"

"—you can't Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds," Harry said quickly. "Hermione Granger told me."

"And she is quite right. We turn left again."

The church clock chimed midnight behind them. Harry wondered why Dumbledore did not consider it rude to call on his old colleague so late, but now that conversation had been established, he had more pressing questions to ask.

"Sir, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge has been sacked. …"

"Correct," Dumbledore said, now turning up a steep side street. "He has been replaced, as I am sure you also saw, by Rufus Scrimgeour, who used to be Head of the Auror office."

"Is he… Do you think he's good?" Harry asked.

"An interesting question," Dumbledore said. "He is able, certainly. A more decisive and foreful personality than Cornelius."

"Yes, but I meant—"

"I know what you meant. Rufus is a man of action and, having fought Dark wizards for most of his working life, does not underestimate the remaining Death Eaters."

Harry waited, but Dumbledore did say anything else. "Why did the Minister lose his job, sir?" he asked instead. "The Daily Prophet did not say."

"I expect it is because of Cornelius' actions during the last two years," Dumbledore said. "The signs of Voldemort's return were here, but he decided to turn a blind eye. That, and the fact that you and Mr. Malfoy had defeated Voldemort without the Ministry's help have angered a lot of people against the Ministry."

Harry was only half paying attention to where he and Dumbledore were going as they turned towards a small house. They held their wands out as they entered, walking swiftly and silently. "Lumos."

Dumbledore's wand tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood upon. Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore walked into the sitting room with Harry right behind him.

A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier glittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. Harry's small intake of breath made Dumbledore look around.

"Not pretty, is it?" he said heavily. "Yes, something horrible has happened here."

Dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet. Harry followed, gazing around, half-scared and half-excited of what he might see hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the overturned sofa, but there was no signs of a body. Harry moved closer to the wall and examined the blood. Something was odd about it. "Sir… I don't think this is human blood," he said.

Dumbledore peered behind an overstuffed armchair laying on its side. And without warning, he swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said, straightening up again.

Harry watched as the armchair turned into a crouched enormously fad, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye.

"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. "it hurt."

"What gave it away?" he grunted as he staggered to his feet, still rubbing his lower belly. He seemed remarkably unabashed for a man who had just been discovered pretending to be an armchair.

"My dear Horace, " Dumbledore said, looking amused, "if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house."

The wizard clapped a pudgy hand to his vast forehead.

"The Dark Mark," he muttered. "Knew there was something… ah well. Wouldn't have had time anyway. I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Please," said Horace. They stood back to back, and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion. The room immediately began to repair itself. The walls wiping themselves clean.

"Harry, what made you realize that wasn't human blood, incidentally?" Dumbledore asked, drawing Horace's attention to the small Slytherin.

"It looked a bit thicker than regular blood," Harry said. "Draco has an entire stockroom filled with every potions ingredient. He showed me it when I met his mum and dad."

"So, do you know what blood this is?" Dumbledore asked, chuckling at the dumbfounded face on Horace.

"Err… Dragon?" Harry asked, looking at the fat wizard.

"Incredible…" he said. "How did the boy know Albus?"

Dumbledore chuckled and said, "If you were in school, I'd been inclined to award you five points Harry—"

"Oho," the wizard said, getting a good look at Harry, his large round eyes flying to Harry's forehead and the lightning-shaped scar it bore. "Oho!"

"This," Dumbledore said, moving forward to make the introduction, "is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine. Horace Slughorn."

Slughorn turned to Dumbledore, his expression shred. "So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus."

He pushed past Harry, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" Dumbledore asked. "For old time's sake?"

Slughorn hesitated.

"All right then, one drink," he said ungraciously.

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and directed him toward a chair not unlike the one that Slughorn had so recently impersonated, which stood right beside the newly burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. Harry took the seat with the distinct impression that Dumbledore, for some reason, wanted to keep him as visible as possible. Certainly when Slughorn, who had been busy with decanters and glasses, turned to face the room again, his eyes fell immediately upon the Slytherin.

"Hmpf," he said, looking away quickly as though frightened of hurting his eyes. He gave a drink to Dumbledore, who had sat down without invitation, thrust the tray at Harry and then sank into the cushions of the repaired sofa and a disgruntled silence.

"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not so well," Slughorn said at once. "Weak chest. Wheezy. Rheumatism too. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected. Old age. Fatigue."

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice," Dumbledore said. "You can't have had more than three minutes' warning?"

Slughorn said, half irritably, half proudly, "Two. Didn't hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still, " he added sternly, seeming to pull himself back together again, "the fact remains that I'm an old man, Albus. A tired old man who's earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts."

Dumbledore stood up rather suddenly.

"Are you leaving?" Slughorn asked at once, looking hopeful.

"No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom," Dumbledore said.

"Oh," Slughorn said, clearly disappointed. "Second on the left down the hall."

Dumbledore strode from the room. Once the door had closed behind him, there was silence. After a few moments, Slughorn got to his feet but seemed uncertain what to do with himself. He shot a furtive look at Harry, then crossed to the fire and turned his back on it, warming his wide behind.

"Don't think I don't know why he's brought you," he said abruptly.

Harry merely looked at Slughorn. Slughorn's watery eyes slid over Harry's scar, this time taking in the rest of his face.

"You look very like your father."

"Yeah, I've been told," Harry said.

"Except for your eyes. You've got—"

"My mother's eyes, yeah," Harry had heard it too often he found it a bit wearing.

"Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother," Slughorn added, in answer to Harry's questioning look. "Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too."

"Which was your House?"

"I was Head of Slytherin," Slughorn said.

"Ohh—I'm in Slytherin," Harry said quickly.

"Really now?" Slughorn asked, his eyes going wide as he stared at Harry. "Lily's son in my house… the cheeky things she would say," he chuckled. "Ahh, no matter. Your father would probably boast that you would be the finest Slytherin. Such a boastful student he was, your father. And clever too. So very clever. …How did you say you knew the blood was Dragon's again?"

"I saw it before," Harry said. "Draco Malfoy, my fiancé, he showed me a small stockroom with almost every known ingredient."

"Malfoy, yes… I know him. Had both his parents. Narcissa was a dear at times, she was with her cousin Regulus most the times. Shame I couldn't have gotten Sirius Black though… would have liked to have the set."

He sounded like an enthusiastic collector who had been outbid at auction. Apparently, lost in memories, he gazed at the opposite wall, turning idly on the spot to ensure an even head on his backside.

"Heard about Lucius. Such a shame, he was an interesting student. A bright lad… in some areas at least. He was rubbish at Transfiguration though. Ahh such a shame…

He bounced up and down a little, smiling in a self-satisfied way, and pointed at the many glittering photograph frames on the dresser, each peopled with tiny moving occupants.

"All ex-students, all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes—a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back—you'll see her if you just crane your neck—that's Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies. …People are always astonished to hear I'm on first-name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!"

This thought seemed to cheer him up enormously. Harry looked at the pictures and frowned when he noticed a familiar boy. He hadn't seen him since his second year. "Tom Riddle…" he said, pointing at the picture of Tom Riddle, sitting and smiling along with other students around his age.

"Ah yes… Tom," Slughorn said. The smile slid from his face as quickly as the blood from his walls. "He was a very intelligent boy, Tom Riddle. … Although that intelligence led to so much suffering. I mourn his death, of course. But only the death of the student I knew. You… you have done a great deed stopping him."

Slughorn seemed to distant himself from the photograph with Riddle. Harry frowned and continued to look at it. "You know Hogwarts would protect you, there is no need to be afraid," he said. "The Death Eaters… they would not be after you. All they know… all I know is that you were just an old professor of his. His Head of House."

"True… that is true…" Slughorn said, more to himself than to Harry.

"And besides, the staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore's headmaster; he was supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared isn't he? How would you think the Death Eaters react to him?" Harry asked.

Slughorn gazed into space for a moment or two: He seemed to be thinking over Harry's words. Dumbledore reentered the room and Slughorn jumped as though he had forgotten he was in the house.

"Oh, there you are, Albus," he said. "You've been a very long time. Upset stomach?"

"No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines," Dumbledore said. "I do love knitting patterns. Well, Harry, we have trespassed upon Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it is time for us to leave."

Not at all reluctant to obey, Harry jumped to his feet. Slughorn seemed taken back.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one."

"Lost…?"

Slughorn seemed agitated. He twiddled his fat thumbs and fidgeted as he watched Dumbledore fasten his traveling cloak, and Harry zip up his jacket.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace," Dumbledore said, raising a hand in a farewell salute. "Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

"Yes … well … very gracious … as I say …"

"Good-bye, then."

"Bye," Harry said.

They were at the front door when there was a shout from behind them.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes," Slughorn said impatiently. "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said, beaming. "Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," Slughorn grunted.

As they set off down the garden path, Slughorn's voice floated after them, "I'll want a pay rise, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore chuckled. The garden gate swung shut behind them, and they set off back down the hill through the dark and the swirling mist.

"Well done, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"I didn't do anything," Harry said in slight surprise. Dumbledore chuckled and said, "Yes you did. You showed Horace exactly how much he stands to gain by returning to Hogwarts. He is a man who likes his comforts. He also likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people."

"So he would want to feel close to me because I defeated Voldemort," Harry guessed.

"Correct Harry," Dumbledore said. "You would be the jewel of his collection. 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' who has defeated, perhaps, the most powerful Dark wizard in the wizarding world. I say this, not to turn you against Horace—or, as we should now call him, Professor Slughorn, but to put you on your guard. This will do Harry. If you will grasp my arm."

Braced this time, Harry was ready for the Apparition, but still found it unpleasant. When the pressure disappeared and he found himself able to breathe again, he was standing in a country lane beside Dumbledore and looking ahead to the crooked silhouette of his fourth favorite building in the world: the Burrow.

"And this is where we part ways Harry," Dumbledore said. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your summer, and stay safe. I am sure Molly will fret over you, and you will have new found freedom in the Burrow than Grimmauld Place. For instance, I am sure Molly still have the tin full of Floo Powder over her fireplace." Dumbledore chuckled. "Now, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour. Good-bye Harry, and look forward to your O.W.L.s result. Expect to see them by noon tomorrow. Good-bye."

"Good bye professor," Harry said as Dumbledore vanished.

Harry walked towards the entrance of the Burrow and knocked.

"Who's there?" Mrs. Weasley's voice asked.

"It's Harry," Harry said. The door opened immediately and Mrs. Weasley's figure appeared. She pulled Harry into a crushing hug and she said, "Oh Harry! You gave me a fright, I was not expecting you till morning! Come in, come in!"

She pulled Harry inside and closed the door on the empty yard and ten steered harry by the shoulders into the full glow of the lantern on the table to examine his appearance.

"You're like Ron," she sighed, looking him up and down. "Both of you look as though you've had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron's grown four inches since I last brought him school robes. Are you hungry, Harry?"

"Yeah, I am," Harry said, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was.

"Sit down, dear, I'll knock something up."

As Harry sat down, a furry ginger cat with a squashed face jumped onto his knees and settled there, purring.

"So Hermione's here?" he asked happily as he tickled Crookshanks behind the ears.

"Oh yes, she arrived the day before yesterday," Mrs. Weasley said, rapping a large iron pot with her wand. It bounced onto the stove with a loud clang and began to bubble at once. "Everyone's in bed, of course, we didn't expect you for hours. Here you are—"

She tapped the pot again; it rose into the air, flew toward Harry, and tipped over; Mrs. Weasley slid a bowl neatly beneath it just in time to catch the stream of thick, steaming onion soup.

"Bread, dear?"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

She waved her wand over her shoulder; a loaf of bread and a knife soared gracefully onto the table; as the loaf sliced itself and the soup pot dropped back onto the stove, Mrs. Weasley sat down opposite him.

"So you persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job? Albus have told me of what you two were doing tonight before he went and get you."

Harry nodded, his mouth so full of hot soup that he could not speak.

"He taught Arthur and me," Mrs. Weasley said. "He was at Hogwarts for ages, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you like him?"

His mouth now full of bread, Harry shrugged and gave a non-committal jerk of the head.

"I know what you mean," Mrs. Weasley said, nodding wisely. "Of course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur's never liked him much. The Ministry's littered with Slughorn's old favorites, he was always good at giving leg ups, but he never had much time for Arthur—didn't seem to think he was enough of a highflier. Well, shows how much Slughorn knows, Arthur and I got by very well without his help of course. And the boys too of course. Though I wish they wouldn't try and give me any of their money. … Arthur left enough for us to live comfortably, even with Ron and Ginny going to Hogwarts. Though that doesn't stop Cedric. You know, he tried to give me a month's worth of his salary. A month's! Took me two hours to convince the boy to keep it. But he is such a nice boy, so glad Fred was able to find a nice boy like Cedric. And George too with Colin. A bit young… but he is very helpful around here when he is."

Harry tried to stifle a yawn behind his hand, but Mrs. Weasley saw it. "Oh! Look at me talking when you are so tired. Finish your soup dear, and then you can go to bed. I've got Fred and George's room all ready for you, you'll have it to yourself."

Harry finished his soup quickly and headed to Fred and George's room. He laid on the bed, but felt oddly restless. He sat up and looked around the room. There was a lingering smell of gunpowder. A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast number of unmarked, sealed cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry's school trunk. The room looked as though it was being used as a temporary warehouse.

Harry heard the sound of Mrs. Weasley going up the stairs and waited till he heard the faint sound of a door closing before getting out of bed. Dumbledore was right. He did have more freedoms here than in Grimmauld Place, where he was constantly watched by his paranoid godparents. He opened the bedroom door and quietly crept down the stairs into the living room. The Burrow was quiet as Harry walked towards the fireplace. There was a small tin on the mantle of the fireplace and Harry opened it carefully. He reached in and took a small handful of floo powder before replacing the top. He threw the floo powder at the fireplace and whispered, "Malfoy Manor—Draco's Bedroom!"

Green flames shot up and Harry stepped through. He held his eyes shut as he felt the familiar feeling of traveling by Floo Powder. He took another step when he felt solid ground again and opened his eyes to see he was in Draco's room. Draco was in his bed, waking up abruptly. "What you doin' here Harry?" He asked groggily.

Harry looked around and frowned when he saw a bottle of firewhiskey, half empty, on Draco's desk. Anger quickly filled him as he stared at the bottle.

"It's been weeks," Harry said, walking towards Draco's desk, "and I haven't heard a word from you. Draco, I know you're grieving but I'm scared for you."

"Harry…" Draco said, sitting up in his bed. "There is no reason for you to be scared for me."

"Really?" Harry asked. He reached the desk and picked up the firewhiskey. "Then why is this here Draco?"

"Don't drink that!" Draco said quickly, jumping out of bed. "Harry you shouldn't drink that."

"Then why are you?" Harry asked angrily. Draco stepped forward to grab the bottle but Harry stepped back and moved the bottle closer to his lips.

"Harry, don't," Draco said again.

"Why not?" Harry asked. "After all, you're drinking it."

"Because you don't need it," Draco stated, moving slowly closer to Harry. Harry glared at him and moved the bottle to his lips. His lips enclosed around the bottle top and he began to tip it. "Harry stop!" Draco demanded. "You're my boy! I'm telling you to stop!"

Harry glared at him as he lifted the bottle all the way and took a large mouthful of the spicy drink. Draco closed the distance and ripped the bottle out of Harry's hands and mouth. "What the fuck were you thinking!?" Draco roared.

Harry swallowed. "The same I can say to you Draco," Harry said. "I know what you had use drink that night in Dumbledore's office. Whiskey. And now you're drinking firewhiskey!? Why are you doing this? Where the hell is my husband who's supposed to be strong!?"

"I am strong!"

"No you're not!" Harry yelled.

A silence filled the room as both boys glared at each other, their chests heaving. The bottle was held in Draco's hand. His knuckles were turning white as his grip tightened. Harry's eyes darted between the bottle and Draco's face. Their noses flared as they stared at each other. Both did not want to speak first. Harry's hand moved towards his pocket where his wand was. If Draco did not put the bottle down, he would destroy it.

"What are you doing Harry?" Draco accused.

"Put the bottle down, Draco," Harry said. He slowly took out his wand, showing Draco it coming out of his pocket before aiming it at the bottle. Draco looked at the wand and snarled, "Don't you dare Harry."

"Put it down Draco, or else."

"Or else what Harry?" Draco asked, both boys speaking the same cold tone. Harry only spared Draco a glance before flicking his wand yelling, "Reducto!" The glass shattered in Draco's grip and glass and liquid scattered the floor.

Draco looked appalled. He glared at Harry and yelled, "What are you thinking!?"

Harry turned his wand on Draco and yelled, "Where is my fiancé?"

Draco stopped, confused. He looked at Harry. "I'm right here," he stated.

"No, you are not him," Harry said, extremely angry now. "My fiancé would never turn to a stupid act like drinking to get over his problems. What is this? Your fourth bottle? How about fifth? Tenth?"

Draco's glare softened into a frown he looked down at the shattered bottle. "It hurts so much," he said more to the bottle than to Harry. "I… it helps."

"No, it doesn't. I see what happens to people when they drink too much. Aunt Marge is always too tipsy when she visits the Dursleys," Harry said.

"Don't you dare compare me to those muggles!" Draco yelled.

"Well right now I'd rather deal with those muggles than you Draco!" Harry yelled back. That stunned both of them silent. Draco stared at Harry completely heartbroken. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way—" Harry said quickly.

"No, no you don't," Draco said. "You meant it like you said it." Draco gave Harry a look before moving to his bed, his feet seemingly dragging against the floor. "Worst than muggles," he spat at himself.

"No, Draco I don't mean it like that," Harry said. "It's just—I'm sick worrying for you. There are Death Eaters looking to kill me, and possibly you, for defeating Voldemort, and I haven't heard from you for weeks. And now here you are in your room with half a bottle of firewhiskey empty. …What the hell am I supposed to think?"

Harry moved to sit next to Draco. He tried taking Draco's hand, but he wouldn't let him. So instead Harry placed his hand on Draco's lap. "Look, I love you Draco but… but I won't just sit around doing nothing while you do something stupid like this."

"So grieving for my father is stupid?"

"It is when you're drinking yourself to death!" Harry said. There was another silence. Both of them not knowing what to say. Draco looked up at Harry and sighed. "Twelve. Between the funeral and today, I've drunk twelve. I…I… I'm sorry."

Harry did not know what to say. He wanted to yell, to scream, to call Draco a fucking idiot. But instead he just gave a small, sad smile and said "Thank you."

He leaned against Draco's shoulder and smiled to himself when he felt Draco's strong arm wrap around his shoulders. Harry started to feel a need, a primal urge that he felt growing within him for the past few weeks. He looked up at Draco and smiled. "You're not going to drink anymore," he stated. "Promise."

"I promise," Draco stated. Harry smiled and moved. He slid to his knees and kneeled in front of Draco. Draco smirked and sat up, opening his legs so Harry could get closer. "Sealing the deal, love?"

"I need this," Harry said gruffly as he pulled Draco's pajama pants down to his knees, revealing his hardening cock. He opened his mouth wide and wrapped his lips around the head of Draco's cock. Draco moaned as Harry went lower and lower, taking his full eight inches in his mouth. "God Harry… I've taught you well," Draco moaned as Harry started moving. Harry moved furiously on Draco's cock, sucking and licking with a single goal in mind: to make Draco cum. He needed it, he needed to taste and swallow Draco's seed. It was the only way he knew perfectly that there were nothing wrong between them. Harry smirked when Draco started chanting his name, knowing he'll get his nectar soon. Pre-cum was oozing out of Draco's cock and Harry swallowed greedily. "H-H-Harry!" Draco screamed as he came. Months worth of cum gushing out of his dick and into Harry's awaiting mouth and throat. "That's it…" Draco breathed as Harry continued to swallow. "Drink my cum Harry… take my seed."

Harry licked and swallowed every drop of cum he could find before coming up to kiss Draco. "I love you," he moaned in the kiss.

"I love you too… my adorable husband."

"My strong husband…" Harry sighed in their hug. He sighed and said, "I have to go… I'm at the Burrow and I'm pretty sure they're expecting me in the morning."

"Alright Harry," Draco said. "Go and be a good houseguest for the Weasleys."

Harry chuckled at that and gave Draco one final kiss before moving to the fireplace. "Oh," he said, turning back to Draco. "The twins invited us to their flat."

"That's good," Draco said. "You should go to bed now."

"Okay… goodnight Draco."

"Night Harry."

Harry stepped through the fireplace again and returned to the Burrow. He was glad to see that no one was in the living room as he crept back up the stairs, into Fred and George's room, and back into bed before falling asleep, exhausted yet very satisfied.

Fluer Delacour was staying at the Burrow. The next morning she had brought a tray full of breakfast to Harry, with a Mrs. Weasley on her tail. Mrs. Weasley was fussing that she was able to bring the tray herself, but Fluer wanted to bring it to Harry. The females of the household were annoyed at Fluer, Ginny calling her "Phlegm" behind her back. Harry learned later that day that she was engaged to Bill Weasley.

"I wonder when our O.W.L. results will come?" Hermione asked. They were in Harry's room, in the early morning. Harry was still in his pajamas, as well as Ron. Hermione, however, was fully dressed and finished a small rant about Fleur

"Can't be long now, it's been a month," Ron said.

"Hang on," Harry said, as last night's conversation came back to him. "I think Dumbledore said our O.W.L. results would be arriving today!"

"Today?" shrieked Hermione. "Today? But why didn't you—oh my God—you should have said—"

She leapt to her feet.

"I'm going to se whether any owls have come. …"

But when Harry arrived downstairs ten minutes later, fully dressed and carrying his empty breakfast tray, it was to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table in great agitation.

"Mrs. Weasley, you're quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this morning?"

"Yes dear, I'd have noticed," Mrs. Weasley said patiently. "But it's barely nine, there's still plenty of time. …"

"I know I messed up Ancient Runes," Hermione muttered feverishly, "I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back—"

"Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who's nervous!" Ron barked. "And when you've got your eleven 'Outstanding O.W.L.s…"

"Don't, don't, don't!" Hermione said, flapping her hands hysterically. "I know I've failed everything!"

"At Beauxbatons," Fleur said complacently, "we 'ad a different way of doing things. I think eet was better. We sat our examinations after six years of study, not five, and then—"

Fleur's words were drowned in a scream. Hermione was pointing through the kitchen window. Three black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.

"They're definitely owls," Ron said hoarsely, jumping up to join Hermione at the window.

"And there are three of them," Harry said, hastening to her other side.

"One of each of us," Hermione said in a terrified whisper. "Oh no… oh no…oh no…"

She gripped both Harry and Ron tightly around the elbows. The owls were flying directly at the Burrow, three handsome tawnies, each of which, it became clear as they flew lower over the path leading up to the house, was carrying a large square envelope.

Mrs. Weasley squeezed past them and opened the kitchen window. One, two, three, the owls soared through it and landed on the table in a neat line. All three of them lifted their right legs.

Harry moved forward. The letter addressed to him was tied to the leg of the owl in the middle. He untied it with fumbling fingers.

Nobody in the kitchen spoke. At last, Harry managed to detach the envelope. He slit it open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside.

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

Pass Grades Fail Grades

OUTSTANDING (O) POOR (P)

EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS (E) DREADFUL (D)

ACCEPTABLE (A) TROLL (T)

Harry James Potter has achieved:

Astronomy A

Care of Magical Creatures E

Charms E

Defense Against the Dark Arts O

Divination T

Herbology E

History of Magic P

Potions O

Transfiguration O

Ancient Runes E

Harry read the parchment through several times, his breathing becoming easier with each reading. It was all right: He had always known that he would fail Divination, and he had had no chance of passing History of Magic, but he had passed everything else! He ran his fingers down the grades… three 'Outstandings' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Transfiguration! He was surprised by Transfiguration. He somehow knew that he would get an "Outstanding" in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, having the Potions master as your Head of House gives some pressure, but Transfiguration? He was very pleasantly pleased.

He looked around. Hermione had her back to him and her head bent, but Ron was looking delighted.

"Only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who cares about them?" he said happily to Harry. "Here—swap—"

Harry glanced down Ron's grades: There were no "Outstandings" there…

"Knew you'd be top at Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ron said, punching Harry on the shoulder. "We've done all right, haven't we?"

"Well done!" Mrs. Weasley proudly, ruffling Ron's hair. "Seven O.W.L.s, that's more than Fred and George got together!"

"Hermione?" Ginny said tentatively, for Hermione still hadn't turned around. "How did you do?"

"I—not bad," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Oh, come off it," Ron said, striding over to her and whipping her results out of her hand. "Yep—ten 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations' at Defense Against the Dark Arts" He looked down at her, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You're actually disappointed, aren't you?"

Hermione shook her head, but Harry laughed. He stood up, announcing that he was going to go tell Sirius and Lupin about his results. He went into the living room, and bent down at the fireplace. He threw the floo powder in and stuck his head. When he told the men his results, they cheered. "Great job Harry!" Sirius said. "I knew you'd inherited your mother's brains."

Harry was silent for a moment, remembering what Slughorn had told him. "Do you… do you two remember Horace Slughorn?"

"Old Slughorn!" Sirius said. "He was the Head of Slytherin when we were there. Why?"

"Dumbledore… we went to visit him last night. He's… going to be teaching again," Harry said.

"Well, it's good Dumbledore was able to find another staff member," Lupin said. Harry nodded and said, "There's one more thing… Dumbledore told me to keep my guard up around him."

"Ohhh yes… The 'Slug Club,'" Sirius said.

"The what?"

"Slug Club," Sirius said. "The small group of students Slughorn picks. Your mother was part of that group. Almost everyone went on to do great things. Well, did a great thing in your and Draco's case. Both of you defeating Voldemort!"

"Though the Daily Prophet forgot about that part," Lupin said.

"Doesn't matter, Draco and I don't care… hey about Draco…"

"What's wrong?"

"I visited him last night," Harry admitted, "and there was a bottle of firewhiskey on his desk…"

"Dear god, please don't tell me the boy's gotten to drinking," Lupin said.

"Twelve bottles," Harry said. Both men sighed.

"Do you want us to talk to Draco about it? Or his mother?" Sirius asked.

"No, I just—he told me he wouldn't drink anymore but…"

"You don't believe him," Sirius said. Harry frowned and nodded. "Well, if it does get worst we'll talk to him Don't you worry. Now, if you excuse us, Teddy learned how to use his legs to crawl and we still need to—what's that muggle phrase?"

"Baby-proof," Lupin sighed.

"Yeah, that. We need to do that to the house," Sirius said. "See you Harry."

Harry stood up from the fireplace and returned to the kitchen.

Harry remained within the confines of the Burrow's garden over the next few weeks. He spent most of his days playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasleys' orchard and his evenings eating triple-helpings of everything Mrs. Weasley put in front of him. Every day he still got mail from the Daily Prophet and various witches and wizards. Mrs. Weasley thought it was nice at first, telling Harry that they were just trying to show him their gratitude for what he and Draco had done, but when the marriage proposals and pictures of various young witches and wizards (mostly witches) started to come, her patience grew thin very quickly.

"Honestly," she said one day. "You are sixteen years old today. What are they thinking sending pictures of witches in their twenties? The people these days, honestly." She shook her head as she rifled through the pictures before throwing them in a bin. "I do not know why you keep opening these Harry?"

"Some letters were charmed to start singing the words and that woke up Teddy one day," Harry said opening another request for an interview.

"Then I should bring that up to the Post office. Oh well, you shouldn't be getting any more letters like this at Hogwarts."

To Mrs. Weasley's displeasure, that wasn't the only thing that marred Harry's birthday. Lupin brought grisly tidings when he, Sirius, and Teddy arrived at the Burrow. "There have been another couple of dementor attacks," he announced, as Mrs. Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake. "And they've found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it—well, frankly, I'm surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters. Seems like they're trying to go on as if You-Know-Who isn't dead."

"Yes, well," Mrs. Weasley said, frowning, "perhaps we should talk about something diff—"

"Regulus only managed a few days after he betrayed him," Sirius said.

"Honestly, both of you talking like that in front of your own son," Mrs. Weasley said, pointing a finger to Teddy, who was being held by Fleur, who was sitting with Bill.

"Where are the twins?" Sirius asked.

"Fred and George are still too busy at their shop. I can't believe it, the world is going mad and yet their joke stop still have enough business that they can't come and visit their mother," Mrs. Weasley said. "Cedric at least came by earlier today while you were playing Quidditch Harry. He dropped those off for you Harry—" she pointed to two wrapped gifts sitting in a corner—"but still he was too busy to stay for a chat. The Ministry is working him to the bone, I tell you."

"Well," Sirius said after awhile. The moon was starting to rise and everyone was starting to lazily yawn in their seats. "We should be heading back. Thank you for rocking him to sleep Molly."

"Oh, any time dears," Mrs. Weasley said, lifting a sleeping Teddy up and giving him to Remus. "Just make sure that you both do not become strangers. Bill and Charlie are nice, but it is nice to speak with some people around my age."

Lupin and Remus just nodded before saying goodbye to everyone. The next day, their letters and booklists arrived from Hogwarts.

"Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you've got these," sighed Mrs. Weasley, looking down Ron's booklist. "We'll go on Saturday as long as Bill or Charlie doesn't have to go into work. I'm not going there without them."

"Mum, d'you honestly think Death Eaters' going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?" sniggered Ron.

"If you think security is a laughing matter, you can stay behind and I'll get your things myself—"

"No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George's shop!" Ron said hastily.

"Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you're too immature to come with us!" Mrs. Weasley said angrily, snatching up her clock, all eight hands of which pointing at "mortal peril" and balancing it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. "And that goes for returning to Hogwarts as well!"

Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his mother holstered the laundry basket and teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room.

"Blimey… even with You-Know-Who dead you can't make a joke around here anymore. …"