Chapter Nineteen: The Knight Bus
Harry awoke at five a.m. He had not slept well, awaking every few hours with the fear that he had missed the hour of seven a.m., when Draco and his mother were due to arrive outside in the street.
It was impossible to apparate into or out of Twelve Grimmauld Place. Fred and George had learned two years ago, during the summer when they had apparated to different rooms in the house but couldn't apparate outside. Only house-elves could freely leave and return without restriction. Harry did not like the idea that Draco and his mother would have to portkey onto the street outside.
Kreacher made them breakfast. For Sirius, he made toast and a glass of orange juice. The toast was burnt.
And Harry, burnt bacon and blood. The blood was apparently supplied by a local butcher's.
"Sorry about the bacon, Harry," he said, dishing out the food. "That house-elf is a nasty piece of work." He sat beside Harry at the kitchen table and raised his glass of orange juice to his lips. "Hopefully, Molly will be here before lunch. I gather Narcissa won't be impressed by Kreacher's cooking skills. Or maybe, Kreacher will listen to her. That might be a welcome change."
"I think Draco and his mother will want a rest first. Maybe a cup of tea and biscuits, too, but that's all."
Sirius drank deeply from his glass before answering, "Tea, I can handle. Severus brought his own brand, though. He's very...opinionated about how a good cuppa should be made." He cut up, chewed on a slice of bacon and swallowed before going on, "I'll see if Narcissa wants to try his tea bags."
"You make Snape tea when he visits?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. He threw a piece of bacon into his mouth.
"Considering he makes it clear every time he comes here, that Dumbledore is the one making him come, yes. Tea is the least of things I can make him." Sirius went quiet, his gaze set on his uneaten slices of toast. "I've been rethinking about how James and I treated Severus during our school years. Severus has been good to you. And Remus."
Harry swallowed. His throat burned, not having chewed his mouthful of food enough. He poured out a mug of blood and drank it. When he put down the mug, he was still gasping. He clutched at his chest, and with a gravely voice, said, "But Snape got Remus expelled."
"Severus also made Remus Wolfsbane - a complicated potion to make - each month for a year. Never pranked him. Never said a word about the danger of Remus being a werewolf until you and your friends were put in danger." He shrugged. "We were lucky that Remus was even welcomed at Hogwarts during our school years. A single scratch from him, even as a human, he could have done permanent damage to you, Hermione or Ron. Or any student."
"That's still no excuse for Snape's bad attitude over the years."
"He will be here throughout the holidays, Harry. He comes by to see me at least once a week, so they'll be no avoiding him." A small smile crept across Sirius' face. "And he is Draco's godfather, remember."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Tea with Snape for Christmas. Perfect."
After breakfast, Sirius volunteered to magically wash the dishes. As the cutlery, dishes and pan levitated over the sink, one after the other, Harry announced, "I'm gonna go wait for them outside."
He ended up sitting on the front steps of Twelve Grimmauld Place. He knew that the neighbours couldn't see him, since the house was under the Fidelius Charm. A little while later, Sirius joined him on the steps.
"I haven't seen Narcissa since - oh, I don't know - since she married Lucius? Once she married him, we never saw one another." He took his wand out from his pocket and fiddled with it in his palms. "Funny, how things turn out. Eh?"
"Did you get along with her?"
"We never spoke. We were only cousins, and her parents hated me. Blood traitor and all." He beamed at Harry. "Thank you for making the effort to help them, Harry. If you hadn't told me of their circumstances, I never would've known."
Harry thought about the moment Draco and he had shared in the deserted classroom on the night of Slughorn's Christmas Party. Sirius doesn't know, he remembered.
"It's no problem," Harry replied guiltily.
I'll tell him later. Once Draco and his mother have arrived, once they're safe and settled, I'll tell Sirius that I fancy Draco then.
Sirius went in occasionally to check the time by the clock in the kitchen. Harry couldn't cast magic until he turned seventeen, not out in the street at least. The Trace, a charm placed on all underage wizards by the Ministry of Magic, would monitor their use of magic until finally breaking when their seventeenth birthday came.
I can't risk casting magic in front of muggles again, he reminded himself.
When Sirius informed him that the time was going on six-fifty a.m., Harry stood up and went into the street. It was dark, and very cold. He fully expected Narcissa and Draco to arrive with some luggage, perhaps a cage carrying an owl inside. Does Draco have an owl? He knew that Narcissa used to send her son sweets and cakes in their early school years through a giant eagle owl.
He hadn't seen the eagle once this year, though.
"You said seven a.m., didn't you, Harry?" Sirius asked, still standing on the steps.
"Yeah."
A cloud of snowy white mist flashed not a few feet from Harry. He turned his head sharply and ran into the road, but stopped when the mist cleared up to reveal Narcissa Malfoy on the gravel, probably having fallen there, dress muddied and wand out. Her wand arm was bleeding pretty profusely.
"My son - my son -" Narcissa spluttered.
"Where is he?" Harry asked.
He stared at her. He didn't feel bloodthirsty; she wasn't tempting at all. Her blood smelt of salt and ash, an acidic flavour. Nothing like Draco's. Sweet like chocolate and cakes.
Draco himself was nowhere in sight. Narcissa continued to mumble her son's name, ignorant of her wound. Perhaps she hadn't realised where she was yet. Harry looked at her belongings, trying to find an explanation for her missing son. She was holding a purse and had a bracelet on her wounded arm, although it was covered in blood.
A bracelet? The one I gave to Draco, Harry realised. He gave it to his mother.
"Narcissa?" Sirius Black shouted from the steps. He sprinted over, his quickness surprising Harry and pulling him out of his frozen state.
Draco's mother looked up. Her vibrant hair was down, black and white curls hiding her pale, sickly face. Harry wondered if the journey by portkey had caused her to feel ill, or if she'd been like this for a while.
"What can I do?" Harry asked his godfather, feeling adrift. Their arrival wasn't meant to go like this.
"Harry Potter, you're the one who gave my son a portkey," Narcissa said. She grabbed his arm. "Get him. Get him back for me. Please."
"I'm sorry," he said.
She released his arm, sobbing.
"Narcissa, we need to go inside," Sirius said loudly, looking around, seemingly trying to see if any muggles were watching. There was a couple jogging down the street, but no one nearby. He bent down and wrapped his arm around her waist. "C'mon, we'll talk indoors. Not in front of any muggles. Harry - Harry, you can make her a cuppa, can't you?"
Harry nodded and ran back inside. His mind was swirling. He felt his stomach turning. Draco's missing? Was he hurt? Is he - Harry did not want to finish that thought; he didn't want to begin contemplating whether Draco had died or not.
It honestly felt like he'd been the one to use the portkey, not Narcissa Malfoy. The only other time he'd ever felt this shaken was when he'd thought Sirius was in trouble, but that had been Voldemort playing a trick on him last summer, using their connection to make him think that Sirius was in the Department of Mysteries.
As Harry put the kettle on, Sirius came into the kitchen with Narcissa in tow. He sat her down in one of the many chairs. Harry made her a cuppa, reluctantly using one of the tea bags from the packet Professor Snape had placed on the kitchen counter.
"Narcissa, I'm going to heal your arm? Is that okay?" Sirius asked.
Narcissa nodded. She put down her wand and took the cuppa. As she sat there, tears streaking her face, Sirius cast the bandaging charm. Bandages were magically conjured and wrapped around Draco's mother's arm, allowing the blood to soak into the bindings and vanish. Her pain somewhat eased, she seemed to gain some semblance of mind.
"Draco was supposed to take my wrist," she said.
"He was left behind?" Sirius asked, clearly surprised.
"I have to go back. Sirius, I have to go." The woman made to leave her seat, but between travelling by portkey and the blood loss, she fell off the chair and landed on the floorboards. Everything about her was unsteady, shaky.
As Harry helped her back into her chair, Sirius said, "I need to make a few Floo calls. The Order has to know. Keep an eye on Narcissa, she's more at risk if she leaves." His godfather went to the fireplace. He made calls to Albus Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, and Nymphadora Tonks, informing them all briefly about Draco Malfoy's situation and to keep their eyes out for him.
Finally, Sirius made a Floo call to Molly Weasley. It was not long before Mrs Weasley ended the call and came through the fireplace in person, though, the fireplace flashing a vibrant green with her arrival.
"I've told the family, Sirius. Arthur has gone into work to alert his colleagues and to form a search party with another few - trustworthy, mind you - Aurors. Bill and Fleur are asking other pureblood families discreetly in London, though I don't expect we'll hear much from that front." Mrs Weasley sighed. "And Fred and George, the dear boys, I've told them to keep an eye out in Diagon Alley. If Draco does make it to London, it's certain he'll go there at some point."
"Thank you, Molly." Sirius was sat next to Narcissa now, his presence having a calming effect on her. "I've informed Kingsley. He said he'll look into the matter. How much power he has as Head Auror though, I don't know."
Mrs Weasley hummed.
"What can I do?" Harry asked abruptly.
"You're under-age, Harry Potter. I'm not letting you out of my sight." Mrs Weasley strode around the table quickly. She put a hand on his shoulder and continued, "I'm not saying this to be difficult, but we already have one underage child on the loose. I don't think we need to risk losing you in Wiltshire, too. If the Dark Lord knew -"
"Draco is somewhere in Wiltshire!" Narcissa shouted. "If Bellatrix finds Draco, she'll kill him. The Dark Lord will kill him."
"Sirius, get her a calming draught. And a blood-replenishing one one, too. For later." Mrs Weasley sat down in one of the chairs. Sirius swept out of the room, although Harry had no idea where he kept potions in the house. "Has she said anything about what happened?" Mrs Weasley went on, her gaze sweeping from Narcissa to Harry.
"No, nothing. Only, Draco was supposed to grab her hand. And he didn't."
Narcissa scowled at him. "It was not Draco's fault. He was duelling Bellatrix. She had her wand aimed on us. Sliced my arm open with the cutting charm." She turned to Mrs Weasley, her expression becoming fiercer. More focused. "You're Mrs Weasley, aren't you? You have sons, yes? All of them attending Hogwarts? Mine is just a boy - he's just a boy."
"Mrs Malfoy," Harry said, addressing her politely, "What happened?"
"We packed our things the night before. My belongings are in my purse, Draco put his in a bag. He gave me the bracelet, demanding that I wear it." More tears dripped down her face. Mrs Weasley conjured a handkerchief and passed it gently to the other mother. "He told me it was a portkey. That it'd lead us to safety. That Harry Potter himself had given it to my Draco. Draco spoke so well of you," she babbled on. "Oh, my boy - my son! I need to leave! I have to find him!"
Harry wanted to out his hands over his ears. Draco's mother was hysterical, not at all like her usual, prim self. Mrs Malfoy made to rise again, but Mrs Weasley placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her to sit back down, almost too easily to Harry's shock. Mrs Malfoy looks feeble. Like a crushed-up leaf. He noticed her bony cheeks and trembling hands.
"You will allow me to leave, Mrs Weasley. My son is in -"
"You're not going anywhere in your state." Sirius had returned. He stood in the doorway holding two potions in one hand, his wand in the other. "I'll go and help Arthur's search party, if that will ease your fears."
"He is my son, Sirius."
"And you'll put him in danger if you leave. Bellatrix knows you and Draco have betrayed Voldemort, correct?" She winced at hearing You-Know-Who's name. She nodded, and set her wand and purse on the table. "You stay with Molly and Harry, here. Go to bed. Take these potions and get some rest. I'll go."
"Why can't I help?" Harry asked.
He didn't want to stay at Grimmauld Place. He wanted to join the search party.
"You can help by waiting. We can't have you getting into trouble. And if Draco manages to make it here, Merlin knows how, he'll need to be let in. Otherwise he'll be stuck outside." Sirius moved to stand in front of Harry. "You need to help Molly manage. Can you do that?"
Harry nodded. "All right."
Sirius set the two potions on the table in front of Mrs Malfoy, then grabbed his cloak off a hook by the fireplace. "Send me a patronus the moment you hear something from Draco. If you do. The sooner we find him, the better we'll all feel." Harry's godfather seized a handful of Floo powder. He threw it into the fireplace, and said, "The Ministry of Magic."
He vanished in a flash green fire.
Mrs Weasley patted the sobbing mother on her shoulder. "It's best for yours - and Draco's - safety. Bellatrix will be hunting you both. Who knows how many Death Eaters she'll have out now. On Christmas Eve, as well."
"He's just a boy," came Mrs Malfoy's broken stutter.
"Let's get you to bed, dear." Mrs Weasley glanced across the table at Harry. "Could you show us where Narcissa will be resting? I trust you and Sirius took care of the rooms?"
Harry nearly stumbled out of his chair. "Yes, yes. Follow me." He took the two potions and his wand, and led the two mothers out of the kitchen. "Sirius gave her Fred and George's old room. He did clean it out."
"I should ruddy hope so, the state it was left in," Mrs Weasley rebuked.
Harry escorted them up the staircase to the second floor landing, wherein he then had to pull back the bed covers inside the room and help Draco's mother into bed. Fully clothed. Her wand and purse were put on the bedside table.
"Is there anything else I can do?" Harry asked them.
"Could you bring us a glass of water? And maybe Floo call Ron and Ginny at the Burrow, too. I left the two alone. And knowing Ronald, he'll be frantically waiting for answers and bothering the rest of the family." Mrs Weasley patted Harry on the arm. "If you like, you can invite them over. Just have a mind for the noise and keep to the kitchen, sweetie."
"Okay, thanks."
Upon leaving the room, however, Harry stumbled on a broken floorboard. His glasses flew off his nose. He watched miserably as they landed on the wooden floorboard, the glass cracking. Sighing, he picked them up and cast the repairing charm.
As he made to put them back on though, he noticed that he could see reasonably well. Or, well enough to see the broken floorboard. He put the spectacles in his pocket and attempted to walk down to the kitchen. His vision wasn't good without his glasses on, but it was still remarkably better than before.
How didn't I notice? To be fair to himself, he often fell asleep with his head buried in his copy of Advanced Potion Making, glasses still on. And even when he did take them off beforehand, they were first thing he grabbed the moment he awoke. It feels weird not wearing them.
At the sink, Harry popped his glasses back on. He took a glass of water up to Mrs Malfoy, and then proceeded to return to the kitchen and sit in front of the fireplace and Floo the Burrow. Almost instantly, Ron's face appeared in the flames, answering him.
"Ron, Ron - you have to come through," Harry said. "Draco didn't make it. Only his Mum did."
"What?" Ron asked, sounding flabbergasted.
"Come through. And bring Ginny. Mrs Malfoy is here though, so be quiet."
Ron and Ginny came through the fireplace. Ron was dressed impeccably in a shirt and a pair of trousers, presumably at Mrs Weasley's orders. The same could be said for Ginny, who patted down her dress, sweeping away the soot and ash that had gathered on her.
"Okay, mate. What happened?" Ron asked, approaching Harry. "Mum went mad. Giving everyone orders, and telling us to stay behind. She did say that Malfoy is missing? What's going on?"
"Narcissa arrived but Draco didn't take the portkey. I think they were being chased by Bellatrix."
Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, mate."
Harry told them everything he knew from the moment of Mrs Malfoy's arrival. He had to hush Ron at one point for being too loud, and after he finished, he was forced to reassure Ginny, who was terrified for Blaise's welfare, fearing that Voldemort and his Death Eaters would look into the Zabini family. He doubted that Ms Zabini would consider hiding Draco, however, given that she hadn't helped the Malfoys beforehand.
A short while later, Mrs Weasley came downstairs to start the Christmas Eve dinner. It would be a much smaller affair than what she had originally planned, but all the same, she was adamant that everyone still needed to eat a good meal. Harry, who couldn't stomach the idea of sitting at a table and listening to everyone talk about Draco, left to sit outside on the doorstep of the house. Ron and Ginny, meanwhile, were made to set the table and assist in taking turns to watch over Narcissa Malfoy.
In the end, Draco's mother did not join them for dinner. Mrs Weasley took a small plate of food to her room, although whether Narcissa finished the meal Harry didn't know. Bill and Fleur arrived shortly after five p.m., hungry and bearing no good news. They were the only ones who returned to join the dinner. Harry himself couldn't bear to eat, let alone join the small dinner party.
He did consume his second bout of blood for the day, though. Ignoring his needs as a vampire was dangerous, and he never wanted to risk hurting the Weasleys nor Draco's mother.
"Harry, you can't sit out here all day," Ron had said, who came outside to see him once dinner had finished. "You'll make yourself ill."
Harry didn't bother to hide the despair in his voice. "It's my fault Draco's missing."
"You couldn't have seen this coming. What could you have done - given him a second portkey? Draco can look after himself," he said. "Dumbledore gave him a mission, remember. Maybe he's taking care of that?"
"We don't even know what that mission is, Ron. And now Bellatrix is literally hunting Draco down - and there is nothing I can do."
"You're not doing yourself any good sitting out here alone, though. Come inside, mate."
"I'll sit where I bloody well like. Sirius said that Draco will likely need to be let into the house. I doubt Draco will Floo here, and he can't apparate into the house, so he'll probably arrive by the front door. I don't want to leave him standing outside." Harry huffed, and turned to stare at the road. "If you don't like it, you're free to go back to the Burrow. By all means, owl Lavender. Ask her for another snog."
"Yeah? Well, maybe I will owl Lavender. At least she isn't making deals with fishy folk like Mundungus."
Ron used the Floo after that, returning straight to the Burrow. Harry felt bad, but then again, he and Ron had been quarrelling more lately, most especially since the Gryffindor prefect had started dating Lavender Brown.
If only Hermione were here, Harry thought despondently.
8 p.m. came and went. By then, it had been thirteen hours since Draco's disappearance. Harry remained on the front step, his gaze still set on the street. Glasses perched on his nose, wand in hand. He was tempted to break his promise to Sirius and leave, even though he didn't have any transportation. He couldn't apparate. Couldn't risk being seen flying his broomstick. Couldn't Floo to Wiltshire, since he didn't know anywhere magical in the county aside from Malfoy Manor. And Wiltshire was two hours away from London, too, too far to catch a bus or a taxi to.
Narcissa Malfoy was still in her room, alone with Mrs Weasley. Ginny was in the kitchen, reluctantly cleaning. And Harry hadn't heard from Ron since their argument.
Harry heard the door creak open behind him.
"You are still waiting out 'ere for Draco?" Fleur asked. She closed the door and sat on the step beside him. "What if 'e 'as betrayed the Order and is helping the Death Eaters?"
Harry shot her a glare. "He wouldn't. Not now."
"Now?"
"He's terrified of Voldemort." He rolled his eyes. "Why - hasn't he told that to your parents? He's been writing to you, hasn't he?"
"No, 'Arry. 'E only writes to my parents monthly, specifically my mother. And 'ey do not share 'eir conversations with me." She flipped her hair behind her shoulders. "I still cannot believe you are sharing a dorm with 'im."
"He's my mate. I care -"
A stark purple, triple-decker bus came veering out from down the road. Harry stopped speaking and clambered down the remainder of the steps to stand at the bottom.
"W'at is t'at?" Fleur asked. "It looks appalling, the colour."
"It's the Knight Bus. Emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard," Harry said, quoting the customary greeting he'd once heard from Stan Shunpike.
Is Draco on it? What would he be doing on the Knight Bus?
She stood up. "Well, w'at is it doing 'ere?"
The Knight Bus pulled sharply to a stop outside of Eleven Grimmauld Place, the neighbouring house. On the Bus was a conductor. It wasn't Stan Shunpike; the man was still in prison. No, this Conductor was a tall, thin woman, her uniform akin to the sickly brown one that Stan had worn.
She turned to look inside the bus, and said, "Grimmauld Place, London."
Harry saw someone stumbling past the beds within the bus, holding onto each pole bar with a deafening grip. The windows were so grim and dusty that he couldn't see the person's face, but then he noticed their bright blond hair, bright enough to be seen through the filthiest window. And realisation struck him.
Draco Malfoy reached the end of the bottom deck. With one hand, he grasped the last pole of the bus, which the Conductor was resting against. He carried his school bookbag with his other hand. His gaze settled on Harry.
"Harry," Draco said with deadly flatness. "I made it."
The Slytherin looked awful. He only had trousers and shoes on. Bits of fabric, possibly from a shirt he'd worn, looked as if they'd been seared into his skin, but Harry couldn't see properly. He wasn't close enough yet.
The Conductor sniffed disdainfully. "Well, go on. Get off, Malfoy."
Draco leaned forward, sticking his foot out to take a step down from the Knight Bus. He flinched and fell.
Harry grabbed him by the arms, protecting him from hitting the ground. He felt his knees hit the ground with a sharp thump! and groaned loudly. Ignoring the pain, Harry looked at the man in his arms. His shirt was gone. Bits of white cotton had been burned into his skin, as he'd suspected. His back was red, even black in places.
Draco also had his head tipped back. His eyelids were shut, tears leaking from them. Harry rearranged his hold on the prefect, allowing him to rest his back against Harry's chest.
"Why?" Harry shouted, looking back up at the Conductor. "Why didn't you take him to St. Mungo's?"
"He asked us not to. Gave me six galleons, too, he did." The Conductor turned to the look inside the bus again. "Ernie, you take us away."
The Knight Bus honked it's horn and sped away, disappearing into the distance. Harry felt his own eyes begin to water. He stared down at Draco, caught between an aching, heart-wrenching need to wrap his arms around the man but knowing he couldn't.
"Draco, I'm sorry. I gave you that portkey and I shouldn't have," he said, quite beside himself. "I'm so sorry."
Harry felt a gentle tap on his back. He looked over his shoulder and saw Fleur standing beside him. To his shame, he'd utterly forgotten that she was standing outside as well.
"Let's get him inside, 'Arry," she said.