17. Resistance is futile [Friday, December 24th 2004]
When Draco finally left work at quarter to midnight on Christmas Eve, it was pouring. He produced a shield over his head, which sheltered him from the worst of it, and went down the street towards the spot he usually used to Disapparate. His shoes and socks were soaked after seconds, partly because he overlooked a rather large puddle.
Draco was already looking forward to a hot shower, a cup of tea and then his warm bed.
He was almost there when he suddenly noticed the sound of footfalls behind him, mostly covered by the rain. But when he looked around, nobody was there. Draco gripped his wand tightly and turned around to face the deserted street.
"Who's there?" he demanded composedly, though his heart was already racing.
Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to linger outside too long. He should go back to using the Floo, even if he hated the taste of ash that lingered in his mouth afterwards. Better that than be maimed or killed. One never knew who was lying in waiting – potions addicts, bereaved family members, in his case even vigilantes, who couldn't accept that he was not in Azkaban.
The footsteps were still there – slower now, but also nearer and then Potter took off the hood of his Invisibility Cloak.
"Merry Christmas."
He grinned, just a split-second before he grabbed Draco's arm and Disapparated with him.
~o~
They reappeared in a dark alley and Potter released him. Music and laughter were wafting over from the building to their right. Draco turned to stare at Potter, who was folding his Cloak into a tiny bundle and then stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans.
"What the hell was that?"
"I wizard-napped you, what else?"
"Where are we? Where's Blaise?"
Potter pushed down Draco's arm, which was still raised into the air. "Blaise and I split up. And this is Muggle London, so put away your wand."
"You split up?" Draco repeated, his heart still racing. He had not even heard the rest of Potter's sentence. "Why?"
"So you wouldn't slip through our fingers, of course," Potter seemed massively proud of himself. "He's waiting to ambush you at home."
And Draco watched numbly as Potter conjured his Patronus and sent it to inform Blaise of their operation's success. They hadn't broken up, just branched out. Working together, yet again.
With a plop Blaise appeared next to them, clutching a small bag. "Here, get changed," he said, offering it to Draco.
"You want me to change my clothes in the back alley of some shady dive bar?" Draco asked in disbelief.
"Yes, please," Potter said sweetly. "And hurry up. We've been gone for close to an hour now, you really left us waiting."
"I didn't know you would abduct me, did I?"
"You should have expected it, seeing as we did send an owl an hour ago. Which you straight up ignored. That was rude, by the way," Blaise said. "And you could've changed at home if you had just taken the Floo. So that's on you, really."
Draco narrowed his eyes at him, but there wasn't really anything to say to that if he didn't want to outright admit he didn't want to be here.
So, Draco emptied the bag. Inside were a pair of black trousers, a white shirt and a crimson sweater with a Christmas tree stitched onto the front. The trousers and shirt belonged to him, but he had definitely never seen a sweater that ridiculous before.
"You can't expect me to wear that," Draco said flatly. "That's not even mine."
"You can't go inside in your scrubs, that's not very festive," Blaise argued. "Just reminds people of their elderly family members who they haven't visited in forever."
"You'll stand out. Look," Potter added, opening his jacket. His sweater was dark blue with snowflakes on the front.
"This is ridiculous," Draco said.
But he still turned his back on them and changed. The sweater was made from soft, thick wool and when he pulled it over his head, a familiar, pepperminty scent enveloped him. He had to work quite hard to get his face under control before turning around again. After all, he couldn't let them know that he did not hate this outfit. At all.
"All right, let's see," Blaise said, making a twisting motion with his hand while Potter stuffed his scrubs into the bag.
Draco sighed and slowly turned around his own axis once. He could feel their eyes scrutinising him. No problem. That didn't make him nervous at all.
"You're definitely taller than me. I guess we'll have to lengthen it some."
Potter pointed his wand at one of the sleeves, which ended a few inches above Draco's wrist. Right on cue, the sleeves knit themselves further down his arms until they were finally long enough.
It was alright. Whatever, really. Draco had worn countless sweaters before. So what if this one belonged to Potter? That didn't make Draco want to smell it a second time. No, thank you.
"Perfect," Potter said, stuffing his wand up his own sleeve. "Alright, let's go. Remember: When in doubt, just assume everybody is a Muggle. So, no magic talk and also no magic."
"Wait!" Blaise said and then he was ruffling Draco's hair with his hands, messing it up with a complicated twist of his wrist. "Better. From Mr. Right to Mr. Right Now in under five seconds."
"Blaise! I'm not here for that, okay? I don't even know why I'm here at all!"
"To prevent you from turning into a reclusive prune!" Blaise said dramatically and then he was pulling Draco out of the ally and into the pub.
Finding Potter's friends wasn't hard at all. As soon as they entered, several people at a huge table in the back cheered. Potter waved at them eagerly and then took Draco by the arm and dragged him over there. As if Draco would flee if the opportunity presented itself. Which, admittedly, he was still thinking about.
Granger, Weasley, Longbottom, Abbott, Luna, Thomas and Ginny were there, as well as some people Draco didn't know and assumed to be the aforementioned Muggles.
"All right, let's see," Potter said, looking around. "This is Callum, Ella, Lauren and Olivia."
He gestured at all of them in turn – a tall, dark-skinned boy (Callum) with his arm slung around a girl with freckles and a platinum bob (Ella), a thoroughly fit girl with Potter's skin colour and her dark hair in a high ponytail (Lauren) and a very petite girl with big round eyes and long, blond hair (Olivia) – and they raised their glasses or nodded at him. Then Potter grabbed Draco's shoulders from behind, as if to present him.
"Everybody, this is Ma– Draco. He's twenty-four years old, a Gemini, works as a doctor and loves long walks on the beach. I assume."
Draco raised both his eyebrows as Potter's friends laughed loudly. Blaise took the last empty chair next to Ginny as Potter sat down next to Olivia in the booth.
"Shove over, will you?" he said eagerly.
Then he grabbed Draco's arm again and pulled him down to sit beside him. Seemed like Potter didn't have any problem at all with being touched when it was somebody he knew. Or maybe it had something to do with who was initiating it, who knew? Draco wasn't even sure if Potter himself would know what it was.
"We could've just found another chair!" Ella complained loudly.
"It's fine, I didn't want to breathe anyway," Lauren wheezed.
"Suck it up," Potter laughed. "I remember a very crowded trip to the shore in your four-seater. I believe we were six people? I still couldn't feel my legs half an hour after we got there."
"I don't even know why you came with us," Lauren said in mock-accusation. "You didn't even want to go swimming!"
"Just admit it already – you need somebody to keep your other side warm, because you're a nesh!" Ella (who was wearing a yellow sweater with a candy cane on the front) said accusingly.
Potter crossed his arms and pretended to be hurt. "Would you stop slandering me?"
"So, if I managed to organise another chair, you would sit on it? All by yourself?"
"I think Blaise has an announcement to make!" Potter talked over her, completely ignoring her question.
Blaise (a black sweater with snowflakes that matched Potter's blue one suspiciously) jumped to his feet.
"Yes," he boasted. "It so happens that I bet a rather large sum on Harry … er … deciding the charity match for his team. And again, he didn't disappoint! So, the rest of the night is on me!"
The whole table cheered and Ginny, Luna, Thomas and Longbottom got up and made their way over to the bar. Lauren (white with a red stocking) reached over Olivia's shoulder to pat Harry on the back. Potter, who got pushed against the table, groaned silently. Draco could feel it where their bodies connected.
"You bet on Harry?" Granger (green with a red-and-white bobble hat) asked contemplatively. "Are you even allowed to? Seeing as you are ... friends."
And wasn't that just a suspicious choice of words? Draco tried to lean a little away from Potter and nearly fell off the bench, swaying on the edge for a second. Then Potter grabbed his arm firmly and pulled him even closer, smirking at him before letting go again. Well, that hadn't worked in Draco's favour.
"Don't worry," Blaise said offhandedly. "I checked and rechecked the rules. Not about to go to prison for betting fraud, am I?"
"You'd better not, I really don't want to have family outings in jail," Weasley (a horrible orange with presents on the front) said.
And what did he mean 'family outings'? Was Blaise family already?
"It's only illegal if you're on the extended team. Harry wouldn't be allowed to bet on their games, of course. Neither would the referee, for obvious reasons. Coaches, board members and team Healers are also banned, but everybody else – suppliers, for example – can participate freely."
"Healers?" Callum (red with a Christmas wreath) laughed as Blaise froze. "What type of paramedics do you employ? Are they specialised in hands-on healing?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Potter objected. "They use healing herbs, of course, and sometimes voodoo dolls."
The whole table laughed. Draco saw Potter and Blaise exchange a glance.
"Hey, Harry? What's your team called again?" Lauren asked. "I always mean to look it up at home and then I forget the name again."
"You're getting old," Olivia (brown with eyes and antlers but also a red bobble where the nose would be?) teased her, earning herself a light dig to her side.
"You couldn't remember, either!"
"I told you, it's something starting with S ... SSC or something."
"It's the FFC," Potter corrected her, grinning. "As in 'Falmouth Football Club'?"
"Oooh right," both girls said. Lauren took out a pen and grabbed an unused beer mat. "I'll write that down right now."
But her pen wasn't working and nobody else had one on them. She made Olivia promise to remind her later, but of course that wouldn't happen either.
"I can't believe you haven't got a pen," Callum said to Potter. "What do you write your autographs with?"
Potter laughed. "You lot can't even remember my team's name; I think nobody is queuing up anytime soon."
"You can't really blame us," Lauren said loudly. "We're almost always pissed when we get together. How is anyone supposed to remember anything?"
"Hear, hear," said Ginny (red with a golden shooting star), who had just reappeared. She was closely followed by the others, all of them carrying trays. Luna (whose sweater seemed to be knit entirely out of tinsel) distributed shot glasses.
"I can't even remember where Grace was from," Ella admitted as the others sat down again.
There was a sudden shift in the mood. Granger and Weasley exchanged worried looks, Ginny, Thomas and Longbottom stopped handing out their various beverages and Abbott glanced at Potter nervously, who looked like he had just been hit with a Bludger. Only Luna seemed to be completely unconcerned, which, admittedly, didn't mean a lot.
"Australia," Potter said shortly, grabbing his shot glass and gulping it down. He looked rather miserable. Draco's stomach twisted oddly.
"And why did she have to leave again?" Ella asked hesitantly.
"Her student visa was revoked," Granger said anxiously. "So, she had to go back."
"And then she completely forgot about Harry," Luna added lightly. Granger and Abbott turned to stare at her in disbelief.
"So, she hasn't been in touch?" Olivia asked. "I tried texting her, but she must have changed her number."
"Don't worry, she's fine," Potter said, emptying her shot glass too. "She's back with her ex."
"Oh, Harry," Olivia said compassionately, putting an arm around his shoulders and hugging him to her side. "I'm so sorry. We won't bring her up again."
"Unless you get so smashed you don't remember ever having made this promise," Ginny said, trying for humour.
"Not that unlikely." Callum raised his glass to her.
"Let's better take the photo now while we all still look somewhat presentable," Lauren said.
And then she flagged down a waitress and handed her a camera. She had to take several steps back until she could fit them all into the frame and then they still had to squash together until she was satisfied. Potter put his arm around Draco's shoulder for maximum closeness and Draco shivered slightly. He told himself it was because he could feel the coldness of Potter's hand on his shoulder (even through his sweater and shirt), but deep down he knew that wasn't the reason. Every inch that was pressed up against Potter was tingling.
"So, Draco," said Lauren as she was putting away her camera and Potter let go of him. "With a name that fancy, you surely went to the same preppy private school as the others?"
"Well, I do remember wearing a uniform," Draco admitted. He wasn't at all prepared to answer questions about his fake Muggle education! He didn't even really know what subjects Muggles had. He thought Sarah from next door might have mentioned failing Chemistry once?
"You better believe he was there!" Potter exclaimed.
"You were friends back then?" Ella asked.
Weasley choked on his beer. Granger and Ginny rapped him on the back, both laughing loudly. The others joined them, Blaise's thunderous laughter the loudest of all.
"Oh goodness, no. We hated each other," Draco said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, we were arch-enemies from the moment we met when we were eleven years old," Potter agreed.
"No eleven-year-old has an arch-enemy!" Callum objected loudly.
"He tried to have me expelled!" Potter protested.
"You threw mud at me!"
"Well, you started that smear campaign against me! You even made badges for the whole school to wear and told that Skeeter woman all that rubbish about me!"
"You got my father arrested!" Draco shot back. They were glaring at each other now, which was rather intense if one happened to sit right next to the person one was glaring at.
"You tried to – !" Potter started, but Draco never got to know where he was going with that sentence, because Olivia interrupted him.
"Harry! His father went to prison because of you?"
"Well, to be fair, he was guilty," Draco said, shrugging and breaking eye contact with Potter.
Everybody else was looking at them now, transfixed. Longbottom's mouth was open, a pretzel stick forgotten in his hands.
"That escalated quickly," Lauren said quietly, which broke the tension.
"And you're friends now?" Ella asked incredulously. "How?"
"I don't know. Potter just sort of grows on you, I guess." Draco elbowed Potter in the ribs. It wasn't his fault if he did it a little too hard – it wasn't easy coordinating something like that with his elbow pressed against his body. "Like a tumour."
"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer," Potter said, grinning at him and not even complaining.
"Why would you do that?" Blaise asked and Draco had to admit that he was puzzled, as well.
"So you can keep an eye on them?" Potter said uncertainly. "How would I know? It's from The Godfather."
"Whose godfather?" Draco asked confusedly. Was this about Potter's godfather? But Black hadn't been close to any of his enemies, had he?
"Nobody's," Ella said. "He's talking about the movie."
Draco exchanged a glance with Blaise.
"Don't tell me you've never seen it?" Ella exclaimed and then looked around at the others. "The rest of you know it, right?"
All of the Muggles nodded, as did Granger, Thomas and Potter, but everybody else shook their heads.
"Movie night at our flat, first thing next year!" she decided, looking at Callum, who nodded.
His dark mob of curls, which shaped his head to look like a Bludger and seemed even more rebellious than Potter's hair, would probably bounce for another few minutes. Maybe that was why Potter was friends with him? Two men who never brushed their hair.
"Ella loves movies," Potter explained. "She's a film critic for the TV paper."
"Wow, that's fantastic," Draco said to her and she smiled. Well, he assumed it was fantastic, because he had never heard of this TV Paper. At least he had learned from Mrs. Maloney that a movie was where all the famous Muggles came from.
She blushed and ducked her head. "Harry makes it seem much bigger than it is. I'm actually a waitress, the paper is just what I do for fun. I mean, I would do it seriously, but it doesn't pay that much."
"Who cares about the money?" said Draco. "As long as you like doing it, you're allowed to boast a little."
Weasley scoffed. "Sure, that's what people with money always say."
Draco took a deep breath and told himself to stay civil. Weasley didn't know about his financial situation. Draco wasn't there to revive an old feud. Not that he knew why he was there, yet. Potter must have felt addressed too, because he was giving Weasley the evil eye.
"And what are the rest of you doing?" asked Draco in an attempt at lightening the mood.
Callum, Ella's boyfriend, was working as a teacher in primary school. Lauren was a personal trainer and Olivia was working as a yoga instructor.
"Yoga?" Draco said, trying to concentrate. "That's the thing with the mats, right? I think my neighbour does that in her front yard. Wears real tight clothes too."
"Uuh, is she fit?" Callum asked, wagging his eyebrows.
"She's eighty – you tell me," Draco complained.
Potter snorted into his beer and shot him a look. He was definitely not sober anymore. His eyes were somewhat dazed and where they were touching, Draco could feel Potter's body tension dwindling. But then again, Draco felt rather tiddly himself, so who was he to judge?
