47. Things we lost [Monday, October 31st 2005]

Draco had not seen Harry for three whole days, which really shouldn't have made him feel so low. Three days weren't that long a time. It was just really strange after spending seven nights in a row at Harry's before this hiatus.

Draco wasn't used to waking up in the drearily furnished on-call room all by himself anymore. Or worse – with Nash snoring in the bunk above him. Or worst: walking in on her and Abrams shagging in there.

Draco was looking forward to meeting up with Harry and the others at the pub tonight. Even if they insisted on everybody wearing a costume. He was prepared. Well, almost.

There were just some details he still had to take care of, which was why he stopped by Harry's after work to make plans for later and pick up some essentials for his costume – without Harry noticing, if at all possible. Him knowing about Draco's costume beforehand would take all the fun out of it.

He needn't have worried, because Emerald was the only one at home when Draco Apparated over. Draco got what he needed and then used the Protean on his necklace to tell Harry to meet up directly at the pub at nine.

~o~

Puzzled looks followed Draco as he pushed his way through the pub. People could tell that he was in costume but not what he was supposed to be. Not that Draco expected ordinary Muggles to understand. He could already see their table when their regular waitress (dressed like a Vampire, apparently) spotted him and burst out laughing. Draco winked at her and she shook her head, still giggling.

Olivia, who was dressed completely in grey and wearing a pair of big fuzzy ears (a dog or wolf, maybe?), saw him first and promptly chocked on her drink. Lauren (a dress and a red cape – whatever that was supposed to be) slapped her on the back while the others tried to find out what had made her laugh so hard.

She pointed at him between coughs and they finally recognised him beneath the wig. Neville (covered in ivy from head to toe) laughed so hard he fell from his chair and it took the table several minutes to settle down again.

"Where did you find a wig that matches his hair that perfectly?" Olivia giggled.

"I just located a shop that sells merchandise and bought it," Draco replied with a grin. "Someone as famous as Harry is a popular choice on Halloween."

"Naturally, how could I forget that there is a superstar amongst us on a regular basis?" Olivia commented, barely supressing laughter. She gestured at the sweater Draco was wearing, crimson with a golden lion. "Do they sell those sweaters too?"

"They probably do. But I stole this one," Draco admitted shamelessly.

The shop Draco had owl-ordered the wig from did have Harry's Quidditch robes and a mock-broom in stock, but Draco didn't need those, of course.

"A touch of authenticity, I like it. And the eye colour too, good job, Draco!" said Olivia approvingly. She leaned over and touched the face paint on his forehead. "Although you didn't get yourself a real scar, I'll have to take points for that."

"Just you wait until Harry gets here," Draco boasted, raking a hand through his (magically attached) hair. "You won't be able to tell the difference. Unless he's disguised as a vampire or something. Which would make me the more convincing Harry out of the two of us. But seriously, what's with all the vampires?"

"Oh, Harry is not coming," Luna (unicorn) interjected in her usual dreamy voice. Draco turned to stare at her, his eyebrows knit together tightly.

"What do you mean 'not coming'?" he asked cautiously.

Why wouldn't Harry tell him if he wasn't attending this ridiculous party? He was the only reason Draco was here, for fuck's sake! And in costume, no less!

Merlin, he hoped Harry hadn't decided to go after Mathews after all! Draco had thought he had him convinced to let it go, but three days without a voice of reason were a long time to plan something.

"He never celebrates Halloween with us," said Callum, who wasn't even in costume, wearing a leather jacket instead. And they had told Draco that he wouldn't be allowed in without a costume. Hypocrites.

Next to Callum, Ella was wearing a blue and white dress with the words 'Police Box' written across the chest. She was looking uncomfortable. All of them did, now that Draco was paying attention. Like there was a huge Erumpent in the room, which Draco just couldn't see.

"He hates it," Cowgirl Ginny said glumly. "He usually keeps to himself a few days before and after. Barely made it to the end of Mum's birthday dinner yesterday. Doesn't go to practice either. We thought he must have talked to you."

"I haven't seen Harry in three days," Draco said. He had a feeling he wouldn't like what they were about to tell him.

"And you didn't find that odd?" said Lauren, acting like they usually were joined at the hip or something.

"No," Draco said thoughtfully, "I had the night shift and couldn't make time, not the other way around. Will someone please tell me what's so bad about Halloween?"

Ginny looked downright miserable. "It's the night his parents were murdered."

A cold hand had taken hold of Draco's insides and, for a moment, it felt like his heart had stopped, but then it picked up again at twice the usual rate, hammering violently. His hands felt very clammy all of a sudden.

"Shit," he breathed. "Damn it, why am I such an idiot sometimes?" Draco got up and snatched the wig from his head. It came right off, per its enchantment, and he dropped it on the table. "Do you know where he usually goes on Halloween?"

"His house, I guess," said Ginny in a sympathetic tone. "Hermione and Ron tried talking to him a few years ago, but he just kept the door shut and ignored them."

Draco shook his head. "He wasn't home an hour ago. Any other ideas?"

But none of them had one. Draco supposed that Hermione would probably have a pretty good guess, but she was on bedrest and quite possibly already asleep. Harry would likely kill him if Draco bothered his very pregnant best friend on his behalf.

"Notify me if you hear anything," Draco said, and with a half-hearted wave of his hand, he was gone.

He re-checked the house first but it was still empty as was the leftmost clothes hook, the one closest to the door and reserved for his Invisibility Cloak. Which meant Harry was definitely not home. How was Draco ever supposed to find him? He slumped on the bottom step of the staircase and tried another Protean, not really expecting it to work, since Harry hadn't reacted to the first one either.

Alright, he had to think. Where would Harry go?

Harry liked to go flying when he needed to clear his head, but it was already pitch-dark outside. The Falcons' pitch would be lit-up, but the chances of running into someone were way too high. Too many people had access. What else?

Harry never really celebrated his birthday either, and Draco knew for a fact that he had Poly-Juiced himself and found a one-night stand at least once. But that certainly wasn't applicable now. Harry was no cheater.

A soft thud came from upstairs and then Emerald was slithering down towards him. Draco picked her up and placed her in his lap, stroking her head softly.

"Do you know where he went?" Draco asked silently, knowing full well that it was no use. "He probably tells you all kinds of things."

Emerald flicked her tongue at him, which Draco found oddly comforting. He stood up, cradling her in his arms, and climbed the stairs. Maybe he could find a clue in Harry's study? Emerald rose when they passed by the sitting room, looking up at her silvery likeness in the ceiling. The Snitches twinkled in the moonlight that streamed in through the enormous windows like dozens of stars.

"Everything I need to know is probably up there," Draco grumbled. "But it's no use, Em. I can't open it."

She swayed lightly, staring at him unblinkingly like always. Then she hissed something, an answer maybe, but of course Draco didn't understand.

"You know I don't speak Parsel –" he began, but the rest of his sentence was lost as the two silver serpents unfolded and descended onto the floor, building the staircase to Harry's secret attic. "Oh no."

This wasn't good. He wanted to find Harry, yes. But he certainly was not supposed to be up there. Harry would be livid if he found out. Draco half wished Emerald hadn't opened the attic for him.

Maybe he was telling himself that he was still fighting the temptation, but deep down, Draco knew that he was weak when it came to opportunities such as this. How could he pass up the easy way to finding Harry when it was there for the taking? What good was it to find out another way if the result was the same?

It was with a guilty conscience that he went upstairs.

The first thing Draco saw was the boggart chest, placed directly next to the entrance. Draco tried not to think about what was hidden inside it and took a few hasty steps to get away from it.

The Pensieve stood in the middle of the room, casting its eerie light on the walls and ceiling. The surface was swirling, like it was sensing the presence of someone searching for a memory.

This was it. Draco had to decide now – go against Harry's wishes and choose the easy path or turn around and do it the right way?

Draco stepped forward and placed a hand on the rim.

"Halloween."

A figure rose from the Pensieve, their back to Draco. It was a young man in jeans and a crimson sweater, his hair all over the place – Harry! But where was he? Draco couldn't see the surroundings without immersing himself in the memory.

He took a step forward, just as the figure turned around. And Draco saw that it wasn't Harry after all – hazel eyes behind glasses, and no scar. Draco's gaze fell down onto the small child in James Potter's arms. Another figure emerged, a woman this time, and James handed Harry over to her. They sank back into the Pensieve and only Harry's father remained.

Absolute dread was threatening to overcome Draco. He had a feeling that he knew what he was going to witness next, but he couldn't summon the strength to stop it. He just stood rooted to the spot as another, much more terrible figure emerged, as James Potter dropped into the Pensieve, as Lily shielded Harry from the Dark Lord and paid with her life as well. The memory ended as silver mist collapsed back into the Pensieve.

Draco stumbled backwards suddenly, as if on a starting signal. Emerald had wound herself around his arm tightly, maybe sensing his discomfort, and she was hissing at him urgently. He ignored her in favour of stumbling out of the attic, missing the last two steps and tumbling to the floor in a heap.

"Close it, just close it," Draco spluttered, staying on his hands and knees to keep the world from turning so much. He barely registered the attic sealing itself, or Em's nudges against his chest. He fumbled for his wand, dropping it and picking it back up hastily.

"Placo!" he cast, feeling a faint wave of calm roll over him in an instant.

Casting it on himself wasn't very effective, but it would have to do. Draco placed Emerald on her favourite tree branch and then thundered down the stairs, grabbing at his necklace and Apparating as soon as he reached the hallway.

The house was half destroyed and overgrown with ivy. There was no way inside – rubble and thicket were blocking the path. If Harry was here, he had to be nearby. If he was here. Coming here had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Maybe Harry was visiting their graves instead? Or maybe he wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and his bad memories, and wasn't in Godric's Hollow at all.

A shiver ran down Draco's whole body, but it had nothing to do with the scenery. He suddenly realised he had left his coat. He couldn't summon the strength to cast a warming charm.

Draco turned on the spot, listening for a sign of Harry. He was surely wearing his Invisibility Cloak. The night was silent other than the occasional creaks that emitted from the ruin of the cottage.

And then there were footsteps – more than one person – coming towards him at an alarming rate. Draco turned to face them, drawing his wand at the same time.

A group of small children, all of them costumed and laughing, rounded the corner and shot past him, some of them looking back at him curiously. None of them so much as glanced at the ruin.

He slipped his wand back into his sleeve and sat down on the kerb.

Draco was all out of ideas. Harry could be anywhere and he had no strong clue as to where that was. How was he supposed to find somebody who was invisible, who had managed to evade the Dark Lord for years?

If only Draco had tried his hand at the Patronus. Then he could send it to Harry with a message he couldn't just ignore, tell him to please get in touch. Provided he wasn't surrounded by Muggles of course.

He really should've paid more attention to Harry in the last days. Or maybe stopped to think for a single second, use his brain.

Draco leaned back on his hands and tilted his head back, groaning in frustration.

There was another set of footsteps approaching, slower this time. Draco turned to look in the direction the sound came from, squinting into the darkness. Just when it sounded like the person must be close enough to see, the footsteps stopped suddenly. There was nobody in sight.

Draco's heart was beating excitedly. That had to be him, right?

"You can pretend not to be here if you want," Draco said silently, looking at the sky again. "I'll leave in a minute."

Nobody answered.

Draco was just starting to wonder if he had maybe misinterpreted the noise, when somebody sat down on his right and put an arm around his shoulders. A silvery veil descended before his eyes.

"Did Hermione tell you?"

"No," Draco said simply. He wasn't planning on telling Harry how he had ended up here.

They were silent for several minutes during which Harry stroked Draco's arm with his fingertips. Draco watched their shoes, which were sticking out from under the Cloak.

"You are freezing," said Harry reproachfully.

Draco turned to look at him. "You are no warmer than me."

"My point exactly," argued Harry. His eyes slid from Draco's to somewhere near his hairline, and his eyes narrowed in confusion. "What's that?"

"What's what?" asked Draco. Harry touched a hand to Draco's forehead and it came away smudged with paint.

"Ah, shit," Draco cussed, starting to rub at his forehead with his sleeve. "Merlin, this is really inappropriate."

He checked the sleeve to see how much of his fake scar had come off.

"Is that my favourite sweater?" asked Harry suspiciously, eyes narrowed at the stain.

Draco froze. Why did he have the feeling he was making this so much worse?

"Sorry I'm such an insensitive arse," Draco groaned. He tried to wriggle his wand arm free from where it was sandwiched between their bodies, but Harry seized it roughly.

The air constricted around them suddenly, one, two, three times and they finally landed on the hallway floor with a crack. Harry rolled on top of him before Draco could so much as orient himself, pinning his wrists to the floor with one hand, and kissed him hard.

Well, Draco definitely wasn't cold anymore.