42. They said he was special [Wednesday July 6th 2005]

Draco was back on top of the tower again, pointing his wand at the man kneeling in front of him.

"You can do it, Draco," he said reassuringly, looking up at him with a mild smile. "You do have it in you, don't you think?"

It felt like the floor was opening up underneath him, but Draco nodded and some invisible force raised his wand for him. And he searched inside himself for his most desperate memory, the worst of them all, and rubbed at his chest with his free hand as he found it.

"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, and immediately something dark and mishappen burst forth, landing on its legs – though Draco couldn't say how many it had, because it kept shifting and twisting, and looking at it felt like using Legilimency on a dementor.

"Most peculiar," said Dumbledore in a cheerful voice. "I think that means we need a little change of decoration."

Dumbledore took off his cheap round glasses, broken as they were, and threw them off the tower without hesitation. Something moved behind Draco and he turned around to see the Slytherin banners framing the door turn colour suddenly. The green changed to crimson, but still the snake stayed silver.

He turned back around, but Dumbledore was gone. It was Harry who was kneeling at his feet, and he was wearing the emerald shirt, which was slashed to ribbons and stained with his own blood. And all around him the blood seeped into the joints between the stones, snaking its way outwards.

"Why did you do that?" Harry asked desperately, painting his own lips with blood as he spoke. His eyes were losing their vibrance, turning muddy and dull. "I thought …"

"I ..." Draco was petrified, his wand still pointed at Harry. The creature was gone, but the damage was done. "I didn't know."

And Harry closed his eyes and fell forward onto his hands, blood dripping to the floor in a steady, terrifying rhythm.

Draco dropped his wand and finally found he wasn't rooted to the spot anymore. He threw himself to the ground beside Harry and dragged him into his arms. And Harry turned his head to face him, and opened his eyes, which were red.

"Well done, Draco," The Thing hissed, cradling Draco's face in a blood-slick hand. "You've proven your loyalty."

The snakes behind him hissed. And Draco screamed.

"Draco!"

Draco shot upwards, smashed his head against something solid and fell back into bed. Somebody dropped onto the bed beside him and Harry groaned.

Harry's bedroom was sun-drenched and warm, which meant that Draco must've forgotten to close the blinds when he'd come home from work at seven in the morning. If Harry was back from practice, it must've been already after three.

He pressed a hand against his own forehead and turned to face Harry, who was doing the same.

"Sorry," muttered Draco. He stretched out a hand to brush Harry's hair away so he could have a proper look. "Bad dream."

"No kidding," Harry said. He placed his free, cold hand on Draco's forehead carefully, which might have been the best thing Draco had ever felt. "Want to talk about it?"

Casually, Draco pulled the left sleeve of his pyjama top down to make sure his scar was covered properly. "Definitely not."

"Want me to distract you?"

"Please." Draco sat up and pushed away the blanket. He felt incredibly hot and definitely needed a shower.

Harry, who was still wearing his Quidditch clothes, leaned over the edge of the bed and fished for something on the floor. Then he slapped a copy of Witch Weekly against his chest, crossed his arms and watched Draco.

"Why do I feel like this won't cheer me up?" Draco asked, expecting nothing good.

"I said 'distract', not 'cheer you up'."

As usual, Harry had made the cover. There was a picture of Harry, smiling his fake smile and then rapidly dropping it as he turned away from the camera, a second too early to go unnoticed. They had titled it 'The heart-breaking truth about Harry Potter's birthday'.

Draco sighed and opened it reluctantly. Splashed across four whole pages were photographs of Harry, all of them making him look sad or lonely (or, most likely, pissed off, but people were bad at recognising that).

No matter your faith, there's one holiday every witch or wizard all across the British Isles celebrates. And that is July 31st, birthday of Harry Potter (24), a day universally known as 'Saviour's Day'.

Or so we thought. It now seems that there is one exception to the rule, and that is the Saviour himself! An anonymous source recently revealed that Harry Potter does not celebrate his own birthday, isolating himself from any and all social contacts instead.

We asked Hannibal Hershey, Mind Healer and author of bestseller 'Important Witches And Wizards Throughout History And What Was Wrong With Them' about his professional opinion on the matter and received shocking insight into Harry Potter's psyche.

'Most likely,' says Hershey, 'is the possibility that Potter does not think he is deserving of the attention and therefore tries to avoid it. Further proof of this is the fact that Potter rarely attends social functions like the annual Ministry gala and never takes photographs with fans.'

This, of course, comes as a shock to all of Harry's devoted admirers. It seems that there's dire need of action, and that is to show Harry Potter what he means to the Wizarding world and convince him of his worth.

We at Witch Weekly are convinced that this is an occasion our readers will rise to. In light of this finding, we will make the start next week by launching the first part of our special thirty-issue series 'The extraordinary life of Harry Potter'. Readers who want to support The Boy Who Lived now have the chance to write a short statement for our new column 'Why We Love Harry', which will be a permanent feature from now on.

By Cordelia Elphaba

Well, at least nobody knew what Harry had done on his last birthday. Or who he had done it with.

Draco closed the magazine and looked over at Harry, who seemed to be reaching his boiling point, where Draco guessed he'd already been before Draco's nightmare had interrupted him.

"So," said Draco, thinking about the editor in chief whose head Harry had shrunk after he had revealed his then-girlfriend. "Will Elphaba's family be able to hold an open casket funeral?"

But Harry just sighed and lay back down beside him. "How did they find out? I don't just tell people that. They must've gotten it from one of my friends …"

The thought was eating him up inside. Draco could tell. He reached over and brushed some of his hair over the scar, the way Harry usually did it.

"Maybe some of them were talking about it and this 'anonymous source' simply overheard. These things happen."

Harry nodded slowly, but his brows were furrowed as he turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Draco suddenly wondered if Harry could be doubting him. Was that why he was avoiding his eyes? Draco didn't dare to ask. He didn't know what he'd do if the answer was 'yes'.

He chose to ask the safer question instead: "So, does that mean you're not going to hex Elphaba?"

Harry shook his head. "Sam said she'd drop me like a hot potato if I ever did that again."

"Don't tell me you actually listen to her. She's even smaller than you, and that's saying something."

Harry cracked a small smile and Draco's heart felt several pounds lighter at once.

"I don't want her to drop me. I don't know if I could function without her. You know she has to sort through all my mail, right? I'd rather die than deal with that."

"I'm sure you'd find others who would be willing to do that," said Draco jokingly. "Insight into Harry Potter's private life? I'd actually bet my house that there are people who would pay you to get that job."

Their eyes met suddenly. There was a moment of silence and then Harry shook his head vehemently.

"She wouldn't. That's just … no. She'd be making her own job much harder than it has to be."

"I imagine the Prophet and all those magazines would pay a nice sum for a scoop on you …"

"No," said Harry firmly. "No, she didn't even know about Grace."

"Why not? If you really trust her, why didn't you tell her about your girlfriend? Why don't you tell her about us? Isn't it kind of her job to keep your secrets?"

"I …"

Harry dragged a hand through his hair and grimaced when he accidently brushed the red swelling at his forehead where they had knocked heads. He looked like he wanted to turn away but knew that it would rouse suspicion.

Draco never got his answer. They both jumped as somebody called Harry's name from downstairs, and he got up as quickly as he could.

"That's Sam," he muttered. "Probably going to lecture me about acquiring what she calls 'normal people behaviour'."

He went downstairs to take his Floo call and left Draco to his doubts.

Draco took his time showering, but it didn't help him sorting through his head, and he was still thinking about it when he went back into the bedroom to raid Harry's closet. He was almost glad when a tap against the window pulled him out of his thoughts.

It was Greyson's owl – not Odysseus but the one he usually sent Draco, a small pygmy that blended in quite well in Draco's Muggle neighbourhood.

Draco opened the window and the owl landed on his arm. It didn't object to being petted by him while he read the letter, and closed its eyes in contentment. Why couldn't Greyson employ more of this kind of owl? Did he think he had to impress Harry with that big-arse monster he usually sent him?

Harry's was slashing his wand at the pan when Draco entered the kitchen, and there was a massive stack of omelettes sitting on the kitchen counter. As Draco sat down, another one landed on top of them with a splash, and then Harry made the utensils scrub themselves before turning to face him.

"Guess Samantha didn't cheer you up?"

Harry just grumbled, but then he seemed to notice the owl now perched on Draco's shoulder and the unhappy look on his face turned into confusion.

"Hey, Kassandra," he said softly, leaning over to stroke the owl's head before turning his attention back onto Draco. "What does Matt want from you?"

"McCarthy had a little accident after practice. Seems she crashed her broom on her way home. Mungo's signed her off for the rest of the month."

He helped himself to an omelette and then offered a small piece of it to the owl, who took if from his fork very gently. Draco liked her. She had manners, at least.

Harry did little to hide the expression of glee over this news. "So what? Does he want you to overturn it?"

Frowning, Draco shook his head. He Scourgified his fork and then took a bite of his anger omelette. To his (admittedly minor) surprise, Harry's state of mind didn't seem diminish the quality of his food in the slightest.

"He wants to hear my opinion on the matter, actually. To make sure she doesn't get back into the game too early."

Draco really didn't know what to make of that. This wasn't how Greyson had previously reacted when his players got injured. On the other hand, maybe Greyson was finally coming to his senses? After five months, he could be starting to trust Draco's expertise, right?

"Maybe what she really needs would be two months off?" Harry suggested with a grin, luring Kassandra onto his own arm so he could pet her more easily.

Draco scoffed. "I have a feeling that even Greyson's new-found regard for his team's health has its limits. Besides, what do you think he'd do if you got injured during your next match and none of his Seeker were available? If he's finally trusting my judgement, I certainly don't want to take advantage of it so soon."

"You're no fun," grumbled Harry, feeding Kassandra more omelette from his bare hand. "Also, how come you get her and I mostly get Odysseus? He sends me some of the other team owls from time to time, but Kassy is my favourite!"

Draco gave him a cocky grin that made Harry glare at him. "Maybe Greyson likes me better than you?"

Harry actually had the audacity to laugh. "Yeah, right. Or maybe he knows you wouldn't be able to handle Odysseus."

"Maybe you're right," said Draco with a shrug. "That beast is incredibly rude. Probably why he thinks you'd get along."

Harry didn't fling his omelette at him, but it looked like it took some restraint. Considering how weak his come-back was, Draco could see why Harry would've preferred action over words. "Given how spoilt he is, I'm surprised you don't get along."

"Really witty, Potter." Draco ate the rest of his omelette while scribbling an answer onto the back of Greyson's letter and then slid off his bar stool. "Alright, I'm off to check out McCarthy. Shouldn't take longer than half an hour."

"Feel free to take your time, do some tests." Harry held out his owl arm so Draco could tie his reply to Kassandra's leg, grinning at him. "Hey, you know that one spell that makes your spine itch horribly? Maybe you should do that one. To make sure she didn't break anything. Would be a shame."

"Sure, I'll just perform a bunch of unnecessary spells on your new arch-nemesis, just for fun," said Draco sarcastically while he opened the window for Kassandra. "And you'll make sure to warn me if you decide to hex Elphaba after all. I'd like to be prepared so I can be at Mungo's when she comes in."

"Deal," said Harry, still grinning. "Any suggestions?"

Draco looked over his shoulder as he left the kitchen. "I'm not on rotation anymore, so something trauma-related would be nice."

"You got it." Harry blew him a kiss and then added, "Be sure to give McCarthy my regards!"

Draco was almost gone when Harry shouted after him, "Take pictures!"

~o~

To Draco's surprise, Felicity lived just two blocks from Harry, and he decided immediately not to mention that to him. Somehow, Draco doubted that he would find it funny.

A very old, very slow house elf let Draco in and showed him the way to her bedroom, giving him plenty of time to have a good look at everything. Felicity's home was decidedly modern, with a whole lot of glass and a very light colour palette, which reminded him acutely of Harry's house. Draco wasn't going to tell him that either.

Felicity was pretty banged up and didn't even sit up in bed when Draco came in. The whole left half of her face was black and blue and her upper body was wrapped in cooling bandages.

"Hello, Draco." She gave him a look that hovered somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "So, how do I look?"

She nodded at the house elf, who handed Draco her patient chart and then bowed out of the room, closing the door on her way out.

"Well, I've got to say, you have seen better days," said Draco, leafing through the topmost stack of papers while he came over and sat down on the chair next to her bed. "So, what the hell happened? Don't tell me you just fell off your broom."

Felicity managed to nod at the chart with just her eyes. "Incident report's in there, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Draco, snapping it shut demonstratively and placing an empty parchment on top of it. "But I'd like to hear it from you. Let's just pretend I'm the first one to examine you."

"Fine," said Felicity with a heavy sigh. "I was flying home after practice. Something heavy hit me from behind and I crashed into some bloody tree. Next thing I know, I'm at St. Mungo's. The end."

Draco scribbled a note and then asked, "How high up were you?"

Felicity shrugged minimally. "Not very. I was flying through a forest just out of Falmouth, no higher than the treetops."

Well, that sounded impractical. "Is that your usual route?"

"No," said Felicity with another sigh. "I usually Apparate home after practice. I only fly when I need time to think. Forests are really great for thinking, you know?"

"I'll have to take your word for it. So, you might have been a little distracted while you were flying home?"

Felicity scoffed at that and rolled her eyes. "A little? That's an understatement."

"Did something happen at practice? Did you get hit by a Bludger beforehand or something of the sort?"

There was disbelief in her voice as she said, "Don't tell me you haven't seen the Prophet, Draco."

"We don't read that rubbish as a matter of principle," said Draco incidentally, though he had to say that he was interested now.

Felicity's voice was harsh and bitter. "Well, somehow the Prophet got wind of this guy I've been seeing. They published some pictures this morning."

Now it was Draco's time to grimace. Seemed that not just Harry liked to keep his relationships private. Draco definitely wasn't going to tell him that he had that in common with Felicity as well.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She seemed a little taken aback, blinking up at him two times before finally saying, "Thanks."

Draco placed her chart and his report on the bedside table and took out his wand. "I'm going to examine you now, alright?"

She nodded and watched as he stood up and cast the first spell. They were silent for a while, until Felicity said, "So?"

Draco raised an eyebrow without looking away from her aura readings. "So, what?"

"Don't you want to know what happened?"

"Honestly, Felicity? I'm always glad when patients don't tell me all about their personal business. I'm really only interested in it if it played a part in the injury."

"Might have," mumbled Felicity. "Wouldn't surprise me if that bitch found out about me and her husband and hit me with something on my way home."

Oh boy. Maybe she didn't have that much in common with Harry after all.

Draco sighed. "Have you talked to an Auror about this?"

Felicity laughed and then grimaced again. "Certainly not. Do you think I want to get caught up in all that? Believe me, it would get ugly. All the Prophet has right now are some blurry pictures of him, no name or anything. I'm just lucky if his wife doesn't go to the Prophet about this. End of my career, that's for sure."

Draco finished his spell and took a few steps back to restore her personal space. "Felicity, I have to report it if I suspect that a crime took place."

Felicity waved him off immediately. "Forget it, Draco. I'm just babbling because I'm salty that he ditched me for her this morning. Might have been drinking a bit too, so that's probably why I slipped up. Guess I hit a bird or something. Honestly, I'll just take the month off and hope that nobody finds out about that. Lay low for a bit."

Draco scrutinised her for a few seconds, but she held eye contact without even blinking. Draco sighed. "If you are sure about that."

She sounded pretty certain when she said, "One hundred percent. Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't include the drinking part in your report."

Draco nodded and took up his parchment again to add some more notes. "Alright. The rest of the month should be enough for you to recover, but let's schedule an examination for the twentieth, shall we?"

"Thanks, Draco." Now Felicity was grinning. "So, who is 'we'?"

"Excuse me?" said Draco, mostly concentrating on finishing his report.

"You said 'We don't read the Prophet'. So, who is she?"

His quill made a horrible scratching noise on the parchment, but at least Draco managed not to look up.

"That bad, is it?" She sounded awfully excited about this. "Don't tell me it's a secret."

"Nothing to tell," said Draco lightly, signing his name under her sick note and then snapping her chart shut again. "I'll leave some arnica and show your elf how to apply those bandages. Owl me if you feel worse."

"Sure," she said in response to the first part of his sentence, which she obviously did not believe one bit. "Let's just hope yours doesn't end like mine."

Well, considering neither Harry nor Draco were adulterers, he didn't see how it could.

Yes, I somehow cut the last part while uploading this chapter the first time, which is why it's longer now!