Hello hello lovelies!
I'm really glad you lot enjoyed the last two chapters of part II that I posted yesterday! All of your reviews were a freaking delight to read, thank you so MUCH!
This was one of my favourite chapters to write in the story, and it's wild that I am about to post it and share it with you. I've had it written for forever. This is what happens when you unintentionally write out-of-order ahaha. There's also quite a bit of a twist...so...enjoy!
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
For AEdmo13 xxx
Part III: The Present
Sunday, April 4th, 1999
Grimmauld Place
Islington, London, England
Ron stared at the tiled kitchen floor as the sound of the kettle whistling from the stovetop filled his ears. He leaned back against the white marble counter, folded his arms over his chest and sighed. Ron closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.
Ron was immensely grateful that he and Harry had somehow garnered permission from McGonagall to spend the weekend at Grimmauld Place. The pressure of NEWTs was coming to a head, and they both needed to get away. McGonagall understood and allowed them this brief reprieve with the condition that they were back at the Castle in time for Breakfast on Monday.
The whistling of the kettle got impossibly louder. A bitter smell assaulted Ron's nostrils—it could only be described as burning mint and sage—and when he opened his eyes he was greeted by a blinding white light. He couldn't see an inch in front of his face.
"What the—"
BANG! The sound was so harsh that Ron's hands flew to his head and covered his ears, his eyes squeezing tightly in pain, and he curved in on himself. There was a ringing in his head. Disoriented, a few moments later he pried his eyes open and the light had thankfully subsided.
Ron's hands cautiously lowered as he peered at the kitchen table. The decorative centrepiece had exploded, and its shards laid sadly on the ground surrounding the table. The more pressing concern however was the body now strewn across said table. They didn't look that big, but Ron chalked that up to the table being vast enough to host a party of twenty, easily.
The person's leg twitched, and Ron jumped back. Everything was still blurry, and the sudden movement had startled him. The sharp, fresh smell of mint swirled around the room, sweeping away its bitter predecessor and leaving only its memory.
"Bloody hell," Ron whispered as he warily approached the body. Upon closer inspection he realised that they were actually quite tall. The wizard was lying face down—spread like a starfish. Ron squatted until he was eye level with the wizard, but their raven hair was partially obscuring their features, so he couldn't quite make out who they were.
"Fuck," Ron said under his breath, hands now on the lip of the table. Ron straightened up and scrutinised the man passed out in front of him. He was tall, quite fit, dressed in faded blue jeans, black and white Adidas trainers—gazelles to be exact—and a loose, muted orange, button-down shirt that was half-tucked into his jeans.
Ron was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the kettle had stopped whistling, nor did he notice that Harry was a few feet away, almost in a daze as he stared at their unexpected guest.
"What the fuck?" Harry asked softly.
Ron flinched, his hand on his wand in his back pocket in the blink of an eye; more out of habit than anything. The wizard visibly relaxed after realising who'd joined him. Ron's hand fell to his side, and he turned to Harry. "He just appeared out of thin air," Ron supplied, his brow knitting together.
"It's strange," Harry frowned, creeping over to the head of the table, his hands moving to grip the top of the chair in front of him. Almost as if he was unwittingly putting distance between him and the unknown wizard.
"What is?" Ron asked, his gaze settling back on the unconscious man.
"It's like there was this...thread attached to my chest, and it kept tugging me in this direction. The closer I got the more it felt like there was this thick rope around me that was pulling me towards something...important."
Ron's eyes widened and he ran a hand back over his cropped ginger hair. His electric blue eyes sparking as he rolled that information around his noggin. "That sounds like a—fuck—Harry help me turn him over!"
"What?" Harry asked. He shook his head violently, as if shedding a bewitchment that had clouded his senses.
A small pop sounded at the other end of the table, and Kreacher stood there with his gnarled hands, curved back, droopy ears, flabby skin and shabby clothes—he refused to wear the new 'uniform' Sirius provided him with (a plain, oversized black shirt that came down to his knees with short sleeves and a pair of simple cloth boots). In fact, he had found great joy in vanishing it right in front of his Master's eyes.
"He's back," Kreacher grunted, limping slightly as he moved towards the unknown wizard.
Harry and Ron froze. Kreacher reached the wizard, and poked the sole of his shoe with a long, pointed nail. A scowl contorted his features, and he let out a hiss. "Kreacher shall let Master know that..." Kreacher paused, considering what to call the wizard in front of him, "...he has returned."
"Kreacher!" Harry called, and the House Elf looked at him with what could only be mild contempt. Kreacher had been much nicer—almost affectionate at times—to Harry after he destroyed Slytherin's locket (and Mipsy's recent influence had only bettered their relationship), but that didn't stop Kreacher from looking highly irritated with Harry now.
"Yes, Master Potter?" Kreacher asked, his tone sickly sweet. A feeble attempt at a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Do you know this man?" Harry asked, stepping around the chair, his gaze locked on Kreacher as he slowly inched forward.
"Yes, Master Potter. As do you." Kreacher bowed, snapped his fingers, and vanished.
Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "A lot of help that was." Harry finally looked at Ron, and was greeted with a perplexed look of disbelief.
"Harry...have you not figured it out yet?" Ron exclaimed, shaking his head as his hands moved to one side of the wizard. Ron jerked his chin towards the man's other side and made a frustrated noise when Harry remained firmly rooted in place.
"Figured out what, Ron?"
Ron sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "Just...a little help here, mate?" (It did not occur to either boy that with magic, turning the man over would be a relatively quick and painless process.)
"Right, sorry," Harry said. He moved into position on the other side of the table. Harry stiffened when his hands touched the man for the first time. An overwhelming sense of familiarity filled the boy with the lightning scar, and he couldn't figure out why.
"Ready?" Ron inquired, intently focused on the task at hand. I really hope Harry doesn't freak out when he realises who it is, Ron thought.
"Yea, slow and steady," Harry said, lifting his side. Ron eased him the rest of the way over. Supporting most of his weight as Harry hastily withdrew his hands the moment he caught sight of the wizard's face.
Unsurprised, Ron peered down into the sleeping face of Draco Potter. Draco Potter, Ron rolled the wizard's new name around his mind. It had a nice ring to it. Ron felt an odd kinship with the man before him, and the memories Sirius and Remus had shared with him tumbled vociferously down his mind's corridors. Unwittingly, a brief smile touched Ron's lips, and he rested his hands on the table beside Draco.
"What...what do we do?" Harry asked, gobsmacked, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He shifted uneasily from foot-to-foot, before shoving his hands into his pockets.
We've spent months hearing about him, but now that he's here we have no idea what to do, Ron mused silently, scratching the side of his head.
"I guess we wait for Sirius? Kreacher said he was going to fetch—"
A loud crack tore through the room—rebounding from somewhere else in the house—and Ron winced. His hearing was still sensitive after Draco's dramatic arrival. Ron heard muted swearing that got louder and louder until Sirius Black appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.
The man froze, as still as a statue. Cheeks flushed, his grey eyes effervescent, hair wildly thrown into a bun with a pink scrunchie, he had on black boxers, black outer robes that were open and exposed his bare torso, and he was barefoot. His tattoos were proudly on display. Ron's eyebrows shot up as he saw a golden shimmer around the edge of Sirius's person. He looked younger and more alive than Ron had ever seen him.
Another crack. A minute later Remus had flown into the kitchen, almost crashing directly into Sirius, but his hands found his best mate's shoulders and a similar look of reverent shock was splayed across his features. He was wearing navy blue socks, black trousers and a baby blue, short-sleeved button down (the buttons weren't done up right, and he hadn't even bothered to do up the top three).
A low moan came from beside Ron, and he gazed down at Draco. Whose eyes were now partially open and narrowed in his direction. "Draco?" Ron tried softly.
Draco smacked his lips together, scrunched up his nose and rasped, "fuck. I forgot how many freckles you had, Weasley."
Ron's jaw dropped, "I beg your pardon?"
"Did something happen to your hearing, Arthur?" Draco groaned, rubbing at his temple as he sluggishly sat up.
Ron stopped breathing. Arthur?
Draco's eyes landed on Harry, and a bright smile lit up his face, "Jamie!" He scooted forward, swung his feet off the side of the table, and he was gazing earnestly at the boy. Draco raised his arms—open wide—as if expecting 'James' to fly into them for a warm embrace.
Harry's eyes rounded, and he stumbled over his words, "Ma—Draco, I'm not…"
"James," Draco finished, and his arms fell limply; he folded them in his lap. Ron couldn't properly see his face from this angle, but he saw the rigidity of Draco's spine. Ron made an educated guess as to what Draco was looking at, because Harry started rubbing his scar.
Draco shook his head, hands sliding into his hair. "No, it's...you were just with me, we were..." Draco trailed off.
Sirius hesitantly drew nearer, hands outstretched. Remus followed closely behind. Sirius came to a halt in front of Draco, placing his hands on Draco's shoulders.
Ron rounded the table, settling in beside Harry. Draco's eyes were wide, unfocused, and he was blinking at an unusually rapid rate.
"Pads?" Draco asked, sounding like a little boy, scared and wishing for the safe embrace of his Mother.
"Paws, what is the last thing you remember?"
Draco's brow furrowed. "I went...I said goodbye to Riley, and then I went to the Shrieking Shack..."
"And?" Sirius pressed, his hands moving to gently grasp Draco's face. Draco shook his head.
"I don't..."
"What happened to James, Draco?" Sirius asked kindly, thumbs stroking Draco's cheeks. Remus moved in closer, half-sitting on the table beside Draco as he pulled him into his side.
"Nothing, I was just with him—" Draco cut himself off, his lip trembling, his eyes a vacant, pale fog.
"Draco."
Draco vehemently shook his head, his hands dropping from his head and fisting in the fabric of Sirius's robes so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "No," Draco choked out. Tears glistened in his eyes.
"He's gone," Sirius whispered with heavy trepidation, his voice cracking. Silent tears were streaming down Remus's face, and he opened his mouth a couple times, but no words came out, almost as if he didn't trust his own voice.
"No," Draco said, trying to pull his face from Sirius's grasp, he wiggled away from Remus, but the werewolf held fast.
"NO!" Draco cried, kicking, thrashing around, trying to escape, eyes shut, tears flowing from his face as he clawed at his throat. In his struggle he ripped a couple buttons from his shirt, and Ron saw a trio of necklaces, and a web of pale scars crisscrossing their way across the pale expanse of his chest. A spine-chilling scream ripped from Draco's throat.
Remus murmured something under his breath. A silencing charm. Draco's mouth was open in a silent scream. He stopped struggling, and instead sagged into the two wizards, defeated. Sirius's body was wracking with soft, broken sobs. Remus grabbed a hold of the back of Sirius's neck in a comforting gesture.
It was an intensely private moment that Ron suddenly felt like he was invading. It was like witnessing Draco fall apart after Dorea's death all over again, except this was worse, he was living it firsthand.
Ron lightly hit Harry's arm, and the boy recoiled in shock. He unseeingly stared at Ron. "We should go," Ron murmured, and Harry nodded dumbly. He allowed Ron to lead him out of the room by his elbow.
Ron glanced over his shoulder before they left, and saw Draco's eyes locked on them, but the despondency trapped in his orbs was disconcerting and Ron hurriedly averted his gaze.
Ron was worried about Harry as they ambled down the narrow, dim, winding corridors of the house until they reached the foyer, stopping at the base of the staircase against the left wall. Weak light filtered in from the window at the top of the stairwell. "Are you alright, mate?"
Harry gave a meek nod, "I just...I wasn't expecting...that."
"He isn't the same person we once knew, Harry," Ron said quietly, unsure what the right thing to say in this situation was. Ron was more prepared for this 'new' version of Draco after he'd walked through Sirius and Remus's memories, but it had still been a tremendous shock to see him so shattered by James Potter's loss.
"Yeah," Harry said in a fragile exhalation of breath. He fiddled with the bottom of his grey hoodie.
"What do you want to do now?"
"I should stay," Harry said.
"Okay, I can floo McGonagall, let her know what happened and ask if we can both stay for another day or two," Ron nodded firmly. It sounded like a concrete course of action. Harry shook his head subtly, hand now on Ron's arm. There was a silent determination in Harry's demeanour that gave Ron pause.
"You should head back, tell McGonagall what happened. I'm going to stay a little bit longer."
Ron's mouth set in a grim line, "Harry, I don't think I should leave you here—"
"I won't be alone, I'll be fine, Ron," Harry insisted. "I have Sirius, and Remus and—it'll be fine."
"Harry," Ron tried, but he saw the steel in his friend's bright green eyes. "Are you sure?"
"I am," Harry said.
Twenty minutes later, Ron was standing in front of the floo with all of his belongings: his overnight bag was slung over his shoulder and a pair of his Hogwarts outer robes (he would most likely be arriving just in time for supper) was held in one hand. Ron smoothed down the front of his maroon shirt, lips pursed as he stared worriedly at Harry.
Harry's arms were crossed over his chest, his stance wide, but there was something delicate in the way he was holding himself that troubled Ron.
Ron sighed as he grabbed a fistful of floo powder from the pouch beside the fireplace, and stepped inside; he needed to crouch slightly on his way in because of the ornate ironwork detailing on the front of the fireplace. He straightened up, turned around, and with his eyes fixed on Harry he clearly said, "Headmistress's office, Hogwarts." The green flames exploded, licking at Ron, and the last thing he saw was Harry's hand raised as he wished him farewell.
"Why Grimmauld Place?" Sirius's voice echoed from the kitchen, and Harry swallowed thickly before he rounded the corner and rejoined the trio in the dimly lit space.
Draco was frowning, still sitting on the table whilst his companions were standing in front of him. Tear tracks were present on Draco's face, and he looked shaken to his core, but his voice was steady as he spoke, "blood magic is tricky, it probably brought me here because...Harry."
Draco was looking at Harry now with a foreign expression; a fond, almost tender expression. It was peculiar on Draco's features, and Harry couldn't recall a time where he had seen anything even remotely similar when directed at him.
"You mean because the last person you were with was James?" Remus asked, confused. "How did that even happen?"
"It's a long story," Draco sighed.
"Well, we have all the time in the world," Sirius smiled wryly. "One suggestion, maybe it can wait until we get out of this accursed house."
Sirius glanced at Harry, warmth crinkling his features as he smiled, "you're coming with us, right?"
Harry nodded, words failing him.
Sirius beamed, "brilliant." Sirius glanced around the miserable space, "I honestly don't know why you chose to come here for the weekend."
Harry cleared his throat, hands in his hoodie pockets, and glanced down at his trainers. "Didn't want to impose."
"Harry, you can go to Potter Manor you know," Sirius said gently, padding over to his Godson.
"It still feels weird," Harry admitted. Sirius nodded in understanding, drawing Harry in for a hug. Harry sank into the embrace, the familiar scent of leather and cinnamon tickling his nostrils.
Mention of the Manor posed a different question. "Do you want to go to Potter Manor, Dray?" Remus asked. Harry peered over Sirius's shoulder to see Draco stiffen.
"Not yet," Draco replied curtly, slowly sliding off the table. He linked his hands and raised them above his head, stretching like a cat. Some of his bones cracked, and Draco hummed in satisfaction. He glanced down at his shirt, and frowned when he saw some of the buttons had popped off. "Accio Draco's buttons." Three buttons flew towards him and landed in his awaiting palm. He pocketed them.
"How about Sett Cottage?" Sirius suggested cavalierly, examining his nails with feigned interest.
Draco was stunned. "You found her."
"Yes, with quite a bit of difficulty, and with some very roundabout hints," Sirius fixed Draco with a playful glare.
"I wasn't sure how long after we went back to the past we'd be gone, so I made sure you would be able to find her. I also wanted to make sure no one else could." Draco shrugged, but then his brow drew together. "How long has it been?" The question was quiet, like it was a thought mistakenly said aloud.
Sirius ignored Draco's question, there would be time for that later. "Why didn't you just tell Riley to come find us after December first, instead of sending me on a wild goose chase?" Sirius drawled.
Draco smirked, his famous smirk, and Harry saw a shadow of the wizard he used to know. "Now what would be the fun in that, Pads?"
"Fucking wanker," Sirius growled. Releasing Harry and sprinting across the room, he leapt at Draco, and the wizard instinctively caught him. Sirius clambered onto Draco's back, legs secured around his waist, and began giving Draco a noogie. A laugh erupted from Draco's lips. The sight was more than a little bizarre.
Remus saddled up beside Harry, and tenderly pulled him into his side, "while they horse around, why don't you go grab your things and we can leave."
Sirius yelled, "no! Get Kreacher to bring your things, we're leaving this fucking house now!"
Draco managed to get out of Sirius's grasp, and now the pair were on the floor playfully wrestling.
"It's funny how much things change, yet they stay the same," Remus hummed.
"Kreacher!" Harry called distractedly.
A small pop, "how may Kreacher help you, Master Potter?" Kreacher sneered.
"May you please bring my things to Sett Cottage?"
"As Master Potter wishes," Kreacher bowed, his ears flopping about. He glanced in Draco and Sirius's direction, "filthy mutts." Then, he disappeared with not a word more.
Remus sighed, "pleasant creature, isn't he?" Remus relinquished his hold on Harry, and waved his wand at his two friends. They froze with Draco on his back, Sirius on top of him, and Draco had Sirius trapped in a headlock.
"C'mon, Harry. Grab hold of one of them," Remus instructed, smiling down at his mates as they both shot him death glares. Harry did as he was told, his hand on Sirius's shin. Remus placed a hand on Draco's head and he closed his eyes. The all too familiar feeling of apparition washed over Harry, a sucking sensation tugged at his belly button and with a sharp crack the quartet vanished into thin air.