Chapter Fifteen: Slugulus Eructo!
Harry couldn't keep himself from grinning the next day in class and at lunch. Draco Malfoy wants to kiss me. He fancies me, and he wants to do things. It shouldn't have created such a good mood in him. Draco and he couldn't have any kind of relationship, not even friendship, public or privately, because Draco still had Voldemort to contend with at the Manor.
Knowing that the prefect at least fancied him, however, had eagerly wanted to flirt with him last night, and wasn't in the least put off by Harry being a vampire, was more than enough to make his head spin with excitement.
He had to tell Draco that he'd come up with a plan to rescue Narcissa and himself. He would tonight, after his lesson with Dumbledore, during which he would ask the Headmaster if he would consider informing Draco and his mother of the location of Grimmauld Place. I can ask on Draco's behalf first. Draco doesn't want to be a Death Eater. And he wants to kiss me.
He didn't think he'd be informing the Headmaster about the last thought on his mind, but as the day went on, he could feel himself trying to form a speech of some kind in his head. I need to convince the Headmaster that Draco is reliable.
"Do you think Dumbledore will tell Malfoy and his mum about Grimmauld Place?" he asked.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were on their way to the final class of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Snape will probably make us do wandless magic again. The professor seemed obsessed with trying to teach students complex magic, but Harry was certain that not even Professor Snape's bullying could put a damper on his new good mood.
Ron rolled his eyes. "I don't know what he'll think, Harry. And I don't want to think about what it'll be like having Malfoy's dear mummy living with us." He snorted. "You won't be snogging your boyfriend whilst she's around, that's for sure."
Harry felt his cheeks flush. He didn't know what Draco's mother would be like living with, either.
Further down the corridor, he noticed that they were one of the last to arrive for the class. He also noticed that Ginny was snogging Blaise Zabini just outside of the classroom.
"Zabini!" Ron roared, charging forward, taking his wand out from his robes. "You get your hands off my sister!"
Ginny pulled back from the Slytherin. She turned her head and, keeping her arms wrapped around Zabini's shoulders, scowled, looking more stubborn than ever before.
"Your sister can do what she likes, Weasley," Zabini said, who had his hands wrapped around her waist. "We were out the other day at the Three Broomsticks. Everyone else here is fine with it."
"Exactly. Ron, leave it," Dean Thomas said. He was leaning against the corridor wall, alongside Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott. "Ginny and I broke up in our first week back at Hogwarts. No hard feelings, she's free to date whomever she likes now."
"But he's a Slytherin!" Ron shouted.
Harry put his hand on his mate's shoulder. "Mate, maybe you should lower your wand?"
"Not until Zabini explains why he was snogging my sister?"
"Because they're seeing one another, Weasley," Parkinson screeched at him, laughing. She was standing in front of the classroom's door, surrounded by Draco, Greengrass and Goyle. "Or didn't you know?"
Harry tried to make eye contact with Draco. The blond prefect glanced in his direction for a moment, frowning, wrinkles set deep on his forehead, before he redirected his gaze onto Ginny and Zabini.
"You're unbelievable," Ginny cried, finally withdrawing her arms. Zabini retracted his hands from her waist, and looked warily on as she strode towards Ron. "You can't waltz around defending my honour, I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself."
"You were snogging him in front of everyone? My own, little sister with a Slytherin -"
"Oh, for Merlin's pants, you're such a prude!" she shouted. "Everyone here has snogged someone by now. You're only moaning because your sister is getting some now, and you haven't. Ever. Even though your best mates -" she pointed behind Ron, in the direction of Harry and Hermione "- have. Harry was snogging Cho left, right and centre last year. Hermione was with Krum. What about you, Ronald?"
"I can see whomever I like," he spat back. "But you, you want him?"
Crabbe grunted. He was standing off to the side like an outcast. "Gryffindors getting with Slytherins. Disgusting."
"Shut your mouth, Vincent," Parkinson snarled.
"This is stupid. Your sister and I like one another, Weasley," Zabini said, addressing Ron. "If you'd lower your wand, and act reasonable for once, maybe you would see that."
"I'm unreasonable?" Ron pointed his wand at the Slytherin. "You're so full of shit, Zabini. Slugulus Eructo!"
The spell struck Zabini's chest in a flash of green light. The Slytherin was sent staggering, although, Parkinson and Goyle came forward to grab and steady the man, saving him from a nasty fall. Zabini looked up and glared at Ron. He opened his mouth to speak, and instead of words passing his lips, he gave a great belch and two tiny slugs flew out of his mouth and landed on the ground a few feet from him.
Harry stepped back, feeling oddly numb. He felt like he was twelve again. This isn't second year, we're sixteen now. He stared ahead at the Slytherins, wondering if he should help.
The door to the DA classroom abruptly opened then, revealing Professor Snape in the threshold. Scowling, he held the door open with an arm. "What fool is casting magic in the corridors?"
Zabini vomited another slug up. The slug landed on Professor Snape's shoe, making the professor grimace, and then crawled off his shoe, no doubt making for somewhere safer.
"I repeat," Snape snarled, after another moment of silence passed by, "what fool is casting curses in the corridor? All of you will stay for detention tonight if the perpetrator is not brought forward. I won't repeat myself again."
"It was Ronald Weasley, sir," Parkinson announced then. "Weasley was angry because Blaise is dating his sister."
"Mr Weasley, put your wand away," Snape muttered, his lips curling disdainfully. Ron flushed and swiftly pocketed his wand. "Revolting behaviour from a sixth year, attacking another student. Fifty points from Gryffindor. And detention with me, Friday night, 7 p.m. This week and the next. Let us see if you can learn to temper that stupidity." He turned to Parkinson. "Miss Parkinson, escort Mr Zabini to the Hospital Wing. I am excusing you both from today's class."
Parkinson shoved her wand back into her pocket, sent Ron a scathing glare with her small, piggish brown eyes, and then placed her hand on Zabini's back to begin guiding him forwards, watchful for the slugs and drool coming from his mouth.
Snape turned to face Ginny. "Miss Weasley, don't you have a class to get to? Or do I need to dock points from Gryffindor House for your tardiness?"
"No. Don't worry, Professor," she muttered, looking at her brother, "I'm done here."
Ginny ran off, although whether she was planning on attending class or following the Slytherins to the Hospital Wing, Harry couldn't tell.
"Inside, all of you," Snape ordered then, returning to the classroom himself.
Harry, Ron and Hermione scarpered inside. Throughout class, not one of them put their hand up when Professor Snape presented them with various questions, not even Hermione. No one wanted to tempt Professor Snape into taking even more House points away.
It made speaking to Ron in the evening difficult. The Gryffindor prefect would look murderous whenever someone brought the subject of Ginny or Defence Against the Dark Arts up, or even why Gryffindor House was now fifty points short in the running for the House Cup. Harry himself hadn't really paid attention to Ginny's dating life; he supposed at some point someone must've told him that she was dating Dean Thomas, but since having to deal with his newfound vampirism, he'd probably forgotten about it.
Ron isn't going to forgot about Zabini.
"Do you think Draco is all right?" Harry asked off-handedly, when he, Ron and Hermione had gathered in the Great Hall for dinner. Both of the Slytherin prefects weren't present at their House table.
"Oh, shut up about Malfoy, Harry," Ron muttered.
"You were fine with the idea of Harry getting together with Draco. Especially now that Draco is doing better - he even apologised to me the other day for all the time he called me a Mudblood, did you know," Hermione pointed out. "So what is so wrong with Ginny wanting to date Blaise Zabini?"
"Harry isn't my sister," Ron retorted. "What's more, Draco Malfoy is trying to prove he's different. He got a detention from Snape, of all things. What has Zabini done to prove we can trust him? Nothing, that's what. The pure-blooded prick."
After dinner, Harry presented himself in front of Dumbledore's office. He knocked, and was bid to enter. Inside, there sat Dumbledore in his chair, looking tired; his hand was as black and burned as ever, the limb looking far worse up close, but he smiled when he gestured for Harry to sit down. The Pensive was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.
Harry was focused on another matter than their lesson tonight.
"I hear you have had a busy time in my absence," the Headmaster said, as if he'd expected Harry to have had a more peaceful month. "I believe you met Mundungus in Hogsmeade?"
"Yes, sir. Hard not to notice, it was all over the papers."
"Indeed," he said, frowning a little. "The images taken of your conversation were not good, as I'm sure you can agree. Your top canines - no, your fangs, as you vampires call them - you were pictured with them out? Vampires are reclusive for a reason, Harry."
"Vampires would never have threatened a wizard in my day." Harry looked up to see who had spoken. The snide comment had come from Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius' great-great-grandfather. His portrait hung among many others on the wall behind Dumbledore.
"Mundungus was selling Black silverware," Harry said, scowling. "He stole them whilst Sirius was staying in St. Mungo's. Sirius caught him, asked him to watch over me, and he still avoided doing that, much like he does every time someone asks him to. I know because I saw Mundungus outside the Three Broomsticks trying to fob them off to the landlord of the Hog's Head."
"Fletcher, you say?" Phineas snarled, nostrils flaring. "Why, that mangy, old half-blood, trying to sell Black heirlooms to a pub owner, of all people!" He stalked out of his portrait, undoubtedly to visit his portrait in number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and speak with his great-great-grandson.
Harry didn't know whether to be glad or peeved that the former Headmaster had left. While Phineas would probably approve of his plan to rescue the heir of the Malfoy family, and even push Dumbledore to allow Draco Malfoy and his mother to stay at the Black residence, the less people who knew about the plan, the better.
"Professor," he began, "have you heard that Voldemort has been visiting Malfoy Manor?"
"No, Mr Weasley did inform me that the Aurors have searched the Manor twice. Nothing dark was uncovered, Harry."
"Voldemort isn't staying there permanently, and they won't find any dark objects, because they aren't needed," Harry said. This wasn't going as planned, he had wanted to talk to the Headmaster in a much clearer, less agitated way, not argue his way through every point. "Voldemort is using Draco Malfoy for a mission. He's blackmailing both his mother and him. You need to do something."
"Draco Malfoy has turned in all his assignments. He is behaving as any regular student would, saving his recent transgressions of which you know of." Dumbledore tapped the desk with his unburned hand. "So I am curious, Harry. What mission could Lord Voldemort have given him, do you imagine?"
Harry breathed in slowly. This is it. He had planned to tell Dumbledore ever since their conversation with Sirius some nights ago.
"Draco is a Death Eater. And Voldemort has tasked him with killing you, Professor. That's his mission, his only mission." Harry turned from the Headmaster to pace away from the desk, not wanting to become distracted. He couldn't allow Dumbledore to interrupt him. "Draco didn't want to be a Death Eater. He doesn't want this mission. He's only doing it because Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, and probably others, are holding his mother hostage."
"Mr Malfoy has told you this?"
Harry turned back to face Dumbledore. "He showed me his Mark, Professor. It's on his left arm, never healing, making him bleed. Part of being a veela is that his body can't tolerate Dark Magic. Voldemort doesn't know this, Draco's managed to keep it hidden. He does know that Narcissa Malfoy has no one to turn to for help, however. Because Lucius was imprisoned, the Malfoy family has lost favour. I doubt any pureblood family would help her out now."
Dumbledore frowned. "And why would Draco's mother require help?"
"Because Draco is being blackmailed, sir. If he doesn't finish his mission, Voldemort will murder his mum. She's already been tortured by the cruciatus curse." Harry placed his hands on the table, ignoring the Pensive beside him. "Ron, Hermione and I have been trying to find a way to rescue Narcissa, giving Draco an out. Sirius contacted us and he's agreed to safehouse her, provided we can get her to his home."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "My, you have been busy." He laid his elbows on the arms of his chair and pressed his fingertips together. "How would you transport Narcissa from Malfoy Manor to Grimmauld Place?"
"Yesterday, Mundungus told me he can acquire a legal portkey. For a price, which I can pay."
"I daresay it will not be cheap," the Headmaster commented. "You and Draco seem to have become inexplicably close over the past month. Friends now, I take it? How do you know that the young Malfoy is not, forgive my bluntness, playing you?"
Harry scowled. "He isn't. You should see his arm, Headmaster."
"A bleeding arm is not enough to convince me, Harry."
"Then what will? I'm his mate! He's protected me from Snape. He saved two Gryffindors and other first years last month from Peeves." Harry lifted his hands from the desk angrily. "He is trying to be good, but if Draco doesn't get help, he'll crack. I can't let that happen. I won't."
"I hardly think Snape was intent on hurting you last month in class, merely trying to teach non-verbal magic. And Draco's spell was a little overdone. Professor Snape was sent flying back into his desk, from what I hear." Dumbledore lowered his hands. "You claim that you're Draco Malfoy's mate, though? That is news to me."
Harry flushed. He hadn't meant to tell the Headmaster that, the information only coming out due to his temper.
"Yes, it's true," he answered lamely, "although, Draco is trying to keep his distance from me. We can't be openly friends because then Voldemort would learn of it. If you were to give him the location of Grimmauld Place -"
"I do sympathise, Harry. I really do," Dumbledore interrupted. "I will organise a meeting with Mr Malfoy himself and see what can be done. I make no promises, however. The matter is...a most serious one, indeed. Now, really, we must get on with your private lesson."
Harry learned a great deal from the lesson. He learned that Tom Riddle despised anything that made him feel ordinary, that he preferred to operate alone even as a child, and that he liked to collect trophies, the last one an important trait that Dumbledore insisted they would revisit at a later date.
Afterwards, Harry was dismissed. He returned to his dorm to find it empty, a letter on his bed. He fumbled as he picked up the letter and unsealed it.
Dear Mr Potter,
Samuel and I were disheartened to read your last letter. You have been doing so well, but do not threat, it is normal for vampires to have an increased longing for blood. The dosage you require will even out once you have finished the final months of your transformation. As yet, you are only in your third month, as I believe. Your final month would be December; you will be more confident and know fully how much blood you'll need daily when that month nears.
I am glad that Dumbledore has increased your blood supply in any case. I hope you have taken more measures to prevent yourself from biting another student or professor. Remember, Harry, you will be expelled if you bite another being. I hope that the student in question from the other day has since recovered from the shock of almost being bitten. To keep an incident like this from happening again, we recommend that you remain observant and do not enter into any intimate relationships until December.
We have also read that article from the Daily Prophet. Please do not let this happen again, Harry. Already, the vampire community is up in arms. It is not very often that one among our numbers receives publicity to this extent, and it is much worse when we are perceived as dangerous to the public. Should this happen again, and you are photographed with your fangs out, I have no doubt that you will receive a advisory letter from the Ministry of Magic, and possibly the High Vampire Council as well.
Speaking of the High Vampire Council, they have found the location of Maria, the vampire who attacked you. She is currently hiding in South London. Samuel has been selected to bring her to the Council so that she may explain herself, and we may deal out punishment for her attack on you. I will keep you updated as far as I know the details. I hope you do not judge Maria too harshly for what happened, given her former imprisonment by the hands of the Death Eaters, but I accept you must dislike her dearly for turning you.
On the matter of your transformation, I would recommend continuing your education on vampire biology. You will no doubt experience further changes soon. If your strength has not vastly improved already, then it will. The same for your eyesight.
Please keep us informed, Harry. It is delight to hear from you, and Samuel and I do truly wish you well.
Sincerest regards,
Harold Lloyd.
Harry thought carefully. Harold was advising him to avoid intimate relationships until December, when his transformation would finish, but could he do that? I don't want to stay away from Draco. Not while he's suffering. He thought of how he had thrown Draco up against the balcony door, though. And winced.
He was getting stronger. His eyesight hadn't improved, but he'd always had poor vision. I can still speak to Draco. I'll keep my distance a little, but I can still be friends with him. I have to be able to.
Thinking of Draco Malfoy, he pulled out the Marauder's map from his trunk. The prefect hadn't spoken to him since the incident between Ron and Zabini, and he'd been eerily absent at dinner too. He scanned the pages of the map, desperately searching for the man.
"Where are you?" he murmured out loud.
Draco did not appear on the map until late into the evening. Harry spotted the marker representing him walking along the seventh floor corridor minutes before curfew was due. He put the map back in his trunk and ran down the staircase to the common room, planning on pulling the sixth-year aside to speak in private.
When he arrived though, and spotted the Slytherin walking in through the portrait, he felt a lump pool in his throat. The Slytherin didn't look well. His face was pale and he had dust on his trousers. He's been in the Room of Hidden Things.
"A word alone, Malfoy?" he asked, wary of their surrounding peers.
The common room was packed. Hermione was sitting in the window seat again, studying with Hannah Abbott. Seamus, Sue Li and two seventh year Gryffindors had settled themselves on a rug by the staircase, and a group of fifth years occupied the sofas surrounding the fireplace.
"Sure, Potter. Lead the way."
Harry nodded towards the staircase, indicating that they should speak in the dorm. He shut the door behind Draco once they were both in the room.
"We can't keep going off," Draco said. "People will talk. And if any of the Slytherins tell their parents, I'm screwed. You know that."
"I'm sorry, but I had to get you alone. I've figured out a way to get you and your mother safely to Sirius' place."
Draco stared dumbly at him. "What? No, that's impossible."
"Mundungus Fletcher is getting a portkey. I didn't tell him it was for you. He only wants to know what date is best and the location from where you want to leave. The time, too."
"Christmas Eve would be best. The Notts, Flints, Crabbes, Goyles, all the Death Eaters will be celebrating in their homes; the Dark Lord won't call a meeting on the day before Christmas. And a nearby street or alley would be best, for location. You can't portkey from within the Manor, or from the grounds." He paused. "Burns Alley. Mother and I would be best to leave from Burns Alley. It's secluded and close by enough to the Manor."
"What about the time?"
"I don't know. Early. Very early in the morning." Draco shrugged his shoulders. "The Lestranges might be staying over, but they usually sleep in over the holidays. Mother and I will have to escape before they awake."
Harry looked down at the floorboards. "Right, that's good. Good idea. Err, I've told Dumbledore by the way. I've told him everything."
"No...no, you wouldn't." The Slytherin frowned when Harry remained quiet. "Why would you do that? Have you really gone and told the Headmaster that I've been ordered to kill him?"
"Dumbledore wants to arrange a meeting between you and him. He made no promises, but he can't continue to let you be blackmailed by Voldemort. He can't. You're a veela, a powerful one. You could cause serious damage if you stayed on Voldemort's side."
Draco walked up to him and raised his hand to clasp his chin. "Listen, I haven't hurt anyone. Being around you, being around my mate, that's helped keep my magic stabilised." He sighed. "And even if you weren't living with me in this dorm, I wouldn't hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt anyone, Harry."
Harry took a moment to appreciate just how perfect the Slytherin was now. He was so incredibly endearing, almost cute. He'd hate being called that. Draco was trying so hard to behave this year. Harry not only wanted to support him, but he could feel himself falling for the man, caring for him much more than he'd ever cared for Cho Chang. Harold said to avoid him. Remembering the letter, he jerked back, practically tripping on his own feet to place some distance between them.
"I almost bit you the other day. The other vampires, the ones I'm in contact with weekly, they've told me to keep my distance until the end of my transformation. Until December," he explained hastily, on seeing Draco's perplexed reaction to his behaviour. "I like you. I couldn't stand it if I hurt you."
"You can't turn me, you pillock. Vampirism has not affect on veelas."
"I could still injure you. I could still drain you and kill you."
Draco winced. "Is that...something you want?"
"No, Draco. I don't want to kill you." Harry looked at the floor again, ashamed. "But I've imagined biting you. You constantly tilt your neck, it's hard not to wonder sometimes." He looked up. "I don't have control yet. Not on my bloodlust, not on my fangs."
"So we can't even be close now until you one day gain control of yourself?" He snorted. "And you went and told Dumbledore that I'm dangerous, too. A Death Eater. I mean, you didn't even consult me over any of these decisions. How dare you!"
Harry flushed. "I figured you wouldn't mind. You need Dumbledore to give you the location to Sirius' place, anyway."
"I would have liked to have told him myself, not have the Chosen One beg him on my behalf." Harry flinched. Draco snorted, and then went on, "I now have to hope the Headmaster will help me, Potter. He could expel me."
"Dumbledore wouldn't."
"And I thought Weasley wouldn't curse my friend."
He was referring to Ron using the slug-vomiting curse on Zabini, Harry realised.
"Ron was just surprised. Angry. He'll get over it," he insisted. "You used it before."
"When I was twelve, not sixteen years old, Potter," Draco said, glaring at him. "You can have your copy of Advanced Potion-Making back tomorrow morning, I don't want it anymore. Now, I have an essay I need to finish with Tracey in the common room." He turned for the door. "Let me know if you do manage to acquire a portkey from Mundungus, though I suppose I shan't need it if Dumbledore expels me."
Draco left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Harry groaned. Well, that could've gone better.