Chapter Twenty One: A Bitter Boxing Day

"You served the Malfoys well, Oxbridge," Harry said, his voice far lower, slower, than he knew his own to be. Oxbridge was the woman imprisoned in a single prison cell in front of them. She was cowering in the corner, wearing a torn, pink but now greying, apron over her blouse and trousers, and holding pieces of a shattered wand in her hands. "Much more than they deserved."

"Blood-traitors, all of them," came a voice from behind him.

Harry turned his head. They were in a cellar or a dungeon. The floor was cold beneath his feet, the air stale and rank, smelling of blood, spoiled food and dank sweat. Bellatrix was standing by the doorway, her lips pulled back into a grimace, her nose turned up in the air.

"They will see the error of their ways. Your sister and your nephew." Harry turned to face Oxbridge, having soothed Bellatrix's temper. "Tell me," he asked the prisoner, "Where have the Malfoys gone?"

"I don't know where Draco and his mother have gone," she answered.

"Severus supplied us with the Veritaserum. Perhaps he made a poor dose?" Bellatrix brought a small, empty bottle out from her robes and eyed it suspiciously.

"No, I trust Severus. She is telling the truth. This Half-Blood does not know the whereabouts of her masters." He raised his wand, and the woman shrieked pathetically, raising her hands in despair. "Would you serve me? Seek out the Malfoys, hand them to me?"

Oxbridge lowered her hands. "I'll do no such thing. Draco is not yours to command anymore."

"Filthy Half-Blood. You are speaking to the Dark Lord!" Bellatrix shouted.

"Hush, Bellatrix. It is clear that Oxbridge here holds Draco Malfoy dearly to her heart. An affection that will be her downfall." Harry raised his wand higher, this time directing his aim carefully for the woman. "Adava Kedavra!"

A green ball of fire shot through the bars of the cell and hit the woman squarely in her chest, killing her. Her hands released the shattered pieces of her wand and she collapsed onto the ground, her long hair covering her face and grimy apron.

"Harry - Harry!"

Harry awoke in his bed back at Twelve Grimmauld Place, drenched in a cold sweat and his vision clouded. Draco was sitting on his bed, holding Harry's hands within his own.

"You're awake!?" Draco shouted, sounding shaken. "You were shaking, talking. What in Salazar's name, Harry!"

Harry found it endearing that the prefect looked so incredibly worried for him. "You'll wake everyone up." He shuffled in his bed until he was sitting up. "This has happened before. It's nothing new."

"This - this has happened before?" he spluttered. "You often sleep like a screaming mandrake?"

Ron and Hermione had known about his nightmares for years now; they knew about his connection to Voldemort. Draco hadn't seen him when his nightmares were bad. At Hogwarts, their beds were on opposite ends of the room. They hadn't been close friends at the start of the year, the prefect suffering from hiding his wings and worrying about his mission from Voldemort.

How can I tell Draco that I have a connection with the Dark Lord?

"They're not nightmares. Well, they are most of the time. This time, no." He shifted underneath his quilt, feeling vulnerable. He was only dressed in his pyjama top and bottoms. A single candle, sitting on Draco's bedside table, was their only source of light, making the scene intimate. "I saw Voldemort murder someone. A woman."

"That sounds like a nightmare, Harry."

"No, it was real. It's happening now. Bellatrix was there, and your name came up. The woman who was murdered mentioned your name. I think she worked for you and your mum."

Draco frowned. "Susan? Was her name Susan?"

"I heard her last name, I think. Oxbridge. Was that her?" Draco nodded, and Harry continued, "Voldemort had her imprisoned. He used Veritaserum and asked her if she knew where you'd gone."

"Susan Oxbridge didn't know anything, she couldn't have helped him. She was our cook. Mother hired her after we lost Dobby; father hated it because she was a Half-Blood, but he didn't want to argue against mother."

Harry had seen Narcissa Malfoy and her emotional state when she'd first appeared at Twelve Grimmauld Place. "I can't imagine anyone arguing with your mum."

"Bellatrix imprisoned Susan the moment my father was sent to Azkaban, even smashed her wand. We have a cell in the cellar, Bellatrix put her there." Draco looked down, his fringe swinging to cover his face. "I often snuck her extra food and water, and I tried to think of a means to free her before my mother and I left, but Bellatrix had set up wards and taken the only key to the cell from my mother."

Harry wiggled one of his hands free from Draco's grasp to reach for the prefect's fringe. He pushed his hair back behind his ear, and then pressed his hand against the man's cheek. "I'm sorry."

"I couldn't help her escape. Is Susan really dead?" Harry responded with an affirmative, and Draco shut his eyes and leaned further into Harry's hand. "She was lovely, always letting me watch her cook. I even helped her bake, sometimes. Mother disliked it."

Harry could easily imagine Draco demanding her to bake his favourite cakes as a twelve-year-old. "She died bravely. Voldemort asked her if she would work for him and seek you out, but she refused."

"Thank you. For telling me," Draco said, squeezing Harry's hand within his own. "How did you know this, though? Do you always see the people the Dark Lord kills?"

"It's complicated. I see what he sees and feel what he feels when he's experiencing anything that causes strong emotions in him. Most of the time, he's angry." Harry dropped his hand from Draco's cheek. "I'd get it if you're afraid of me. Most people would think I'm a freak, having visions about Voldemort."

"Harry, please, you pillock, I'm not afraid. Anyone who thinks they should be afraid of you, doesn't know you. You're still my Scarhead, my mate." Draco slowly swept his arms around Harry's shoulders and held him. "I'm not going anywhere." Relieved, Harry returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Draco's naked waist but not holding on too tightly, fearing that he'd injure the prefect. Draco laid a gentle kiss on his neck, and asked, "Do you want me to head back to bed?"

Harry stiffened on the spot. "Only if you want to. You pulled away earlier...when we kissed. You were the one who went to the ruddy bathroom."

Draco leaned away, ending the embrace. The prefect looked bashful, cheeks reddening, although it was difficult to tell with such little light in the bedroom. Harry kept his hands on his waist, determined to still hold him.

"I was nervous, Potter. It's going to happen a lot," Draco confessed quietly. "And you made me hard."

"I made you..."

Harry couldn't finish the sentence, too preoccupied imagining what Draco had done in the bathroom in order to relieve himself. A sharp streak of arousal soared through him, diving from his chest right down to his cock, making it twitch in his pyjama bottoms.

"Yes, you made me hard. Overwhelmed me, kissing you."

"I didn't notice; I was too busy making sure I didn't touch your burns." And I didn't want us going too fast, to be fair, Harry wanted to add. Instead, he said, "We'd only be sleeping if you stayed in my bed, though. We wouldn't be doing anything."

"This is...it's dangerous, Harry. My mother could walk in. Why do you want me sleeping in your bed?"

Harry looked down shyly. He almost wished he hadn't asked the prefect to stay. "You don't have to. It's only, with the vision..."

Voldemort was hunting Draco and his mother, and Harry had been subject to his feelings. His anger, his feelings of betrayal. It was difficult to put into words how afraid Harry was.

"It's all right, I'll stay. Is the door locked?"

Harry grabbed his wand from his bedside table and waved it at the door. He turned back to Draco, and said sheepishly, "It is now. Come on. I'll shift over."

It took some jerky rearranging and talking. Harry had never slept in a bed with anyone else before, and Draco still had burns on his back and injured wings to contend with. Plus, Harry's bed was a single. Once Draco settled on his side against the wall, it left very little room for fidgeting. Harry didn't mind. He laid his head on the prefect's very naked, very warm chest.

"I'm glad I'm here," Draco said sleepily after a while, his chin grazing Harry's hair.

Harry chuckled. "I'm happy about that, too."

When Harry awoke late the next morning, though, Draco was not in their bedroom. Draco's bed looked made, and on top of his quilt were a great many books. Among them were, A History of Magic, Magical Drafts and Potions, Advanced Rune Translation, and Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart, with the last one making Harry frown. He found the blond prefect in the kitchen, the prefect making tea for Sirius and Mrs Malfoy.

Harry swiftly made his way over to the prefect.

"Letter arrived for you, Harry," Sirius called from his seat. "I'd watch it, by the way. Dumbledore said we shouldn't have so many owls coming here. Makes the area suspicious, owls flying in and out. You know this."

"Here," Draco said, grabbing the letter from the counter beside the sink and passing it into Harry's hands. "You're popular."

The kettle hissed loudly. Harry took the moment to move closer to the prefect and whisper in his ear, "Would've preferred it if you'd been there when I'd woken up. In bed."

Draco chuckled, the movement making his fringe fall into his face. "I thought we were going slow. Didn't realise that includes wake up calls."

Harry could feel his cheeks heating up, although that could've been due to the boiling kettle.

"It does. Include them. Wake up calls, I mean," he said lamely, stumbling over his own words.

Draco grinned at him like a Cheshire cat and then went on to make the teas and even breakfast, much to Sirius' displeasure, who seemed set on the job belonging to Kreacher, despite that Kreacher was dreadful at cooking. Mrs Malfoy didn't even seem to mind. She probably caught him cooking with Susan Oxbridge one too many times to try kicking up a fuss now.

Harry sat down at the table. He drank a little of his tea, which he found a tad too bitter but said nothing of it, and opened the letter.

Harry Potter,

I heard through the Order that the Malfoys arrived. The portkey worked, then. Good. I told you I'd mail you my price. It's one hundred and one galleons, and twenty-one sickles. I know you're good for it.

I also know Gringotts is demanding more security checks. I'm sure Bill Weasley will be able to get the sum for you. He works there. So, I'll be over tonight around seven p.m. to collect my money. Be sure to have it, or Dumbledore will have one less informer on his side.

Kindly,
Mundungus Fletcher.

The handwriting was awful. Worse than his own, and it took several reads before Harry was satisfied that he understood the whole thing.

"Mundungus will be coming over tonight, Sirius," Harry said. "What time is it? I need to get the money, he's advised me to contact Bill."

Sirius grimaced over the rim of his tea cup. "That pest. I hope you know what you're doing, Harry."

"Can I speak to you, Potter?" Draco asked. "In the drawing room?"

The prefect strode out of the room quickly, ignoring the uncertain looks coming from his mother and Sirius. Harry sent the two adults a tentative, reassuring smile, and then left the kitchen. Inside the drawing room, he found Draco staring at the family tree, his expression twisted into a sneer.

"Sirius gets that face whenever he sees this," Harry said, closing the drawing room's door behind him.

Draco grimaced. "I don't have a face."

"You do. You sneer when you're disgusted by something; you often had that look when you talked to Ron, Hermione and I."

"I was a different person. An idiot." He finally turned to Harry, taking his attention away from the decorative wall. "I detest this thing."

"I doubt that, you always bragged about being a pureblood. I thought you'd love this tree."

He snorted. "My family have only been purebloods since the seventeenth-century, believe it or not. I discovered this little fact last year. My father wouldn't want me to tell you, but it was only due to the International Statute of Secrecy Act that we cut off ties to the Muggle world. Before that, my family dabbled in Muggle currency and assets, buying and renting out land to muggles."

"So part of your wealth comes from muggles. Why are you telling me this, Draco?" It sounded almost like bragging, just more pureblood superiority, but Harry wasn't sure.

Is this the reason he called me here? To talk about his family wealth?

"I'm telling you because I know Mundungus is asking a hefty price for that portkey. And I can't understand why you went along with him, why you're willing to help my mother and I out, but I can pay it, is what I'm saying. The Death Eaters are watching Diagon Alley. If my mother or I go near Gringotts, we'll be attacked. I can go there again, though. I will."

"You're willing to go to Gringotts again? Are you insane?"

"Only my father, mother and I can access the Malfoy Vault. My mother made me put that security check in place with the goblins after Bellatrix tried accessing it last summer, but I can go. Just tell me how much Mundungus wants and I'll pay it."

"I'm not telling you. You were hurt the last time you went."

Harry could vividly remember how Draco fell out of the Knight Bus on his arrival and into his arms. The prefect had spent hours on the kitchen table, doused by potions, his back and wings slathered in ugly, thick paste. Even now, Draco wasn't wearing a shirt. It was only the second day since his arrival and his back still hadn't fully healed.

"I can put on a disguise. A cloak."

Harry coughed, biting back his laughter. "You can't even wear a shirt without wincing."

Draco's cheeks reddened. He glowered at Harry and then stepped forward, closing in. "C'mon, Harry." He raised his hand to cup Harry's cheek, and went on, "You can trust me. I'm a veela, I'll come back."

"No, I'm not letting them kill you. Not like Cedric."

"What?" Draco asked, frowning. "I thought -"

The drawing room's door opened with a creak. To his dismay, Harry turned his head to see Sirius entering the room.

"Harry, lad -" Sirius' face contorted in confusion as his gaze fell on them. Draco's hand slipped down from Harry's cheek, all too late. "- A Malfoy, really?"

"Sirius, I can explain," Harry said, not knowing how he could even explain the situation.

"I thought I'd let you know that Mrs Weasley just Floo called. Percy has made an appearance at the Burrow. He's wanting to speak to you. I've told them Percy can pop by in an hour. Bill, Fleur and Ron will be visiting, too." His godfather closed the door behind him, folded his arms and grinned. He no longer looked confused but instead smug, as if he already knew the situation. "So, when do you want to tell the Weasleys that you're dating a Malfoy? Today?"

This is too much, Harry realised. I haven't even asked Draco out. Not properly.

While he and Cho had sort of fallen into a relationship after their first kiss, he had wanted to ask Draco out. Properly. He hadn't wanted to rush things, though. He'd wanted Draco to settle in and focus on healing first. Instead, Draco and he were bundling through flirting at the kitchen counter and kissing in private, and now Sirius knew about them.

"Can't we leave it for now?" Harry asked.

"You want me to keep your dating life a secret? That's not going to happen, Harry, my boy. Sorry." His godfather didn't sound very sorry, he sounded amused. "Draco, you should inform your mother. And Severus, the next time he comes around."

Draco flinched. "Severus will be angry."

"I imagine they already have their suspicions about you both. I had mine when I saw you, Harry, hold Draco's hand during my Floo call back in October. I put it down to friendship at the time." Sirius snorted, his humour seemingly evaporated. "You're not to share a room with each other here anymore. I don't care what you do at Hogwarts. He's a veela, you're his mate, Harry."

"But that isn't fair," Harry said. "You knew Draco was a veela when he arrived -"

"I didn't know you were his mate. James would've had my head if I allowed his sixteen-year-old son to continue sleeping in the same room with his intended." Sirius turned and shot Draco a fierce look, and said, "We're in the middle of a war. Just remember that before you make any rash decisions in the future."

If Sirius had made Draco feel dejected before at the prospect of telling Professor Snape about his new relationship, the prefect looked nigh on downcast now. He moved sharply away from Harry and then walked past Sirius, making for the door.

"I'll go enlighten my mother," he said, and with that left, closing the door behind him.

"You do realise Draco is injured, right? We haven't been doing anything," Harry said, in frustration. "Why should him being a veela even matter?"

"Sorry, my boy. I can't take that chance. A pregnant veela is the last thing we need." Sirius actually looked sympathetic, although Harry barely noticed. "Now, now, let's focus on Percy's arrival."

The only problem was, there was no way Harry could focus on Percy's arrival now. Or anything, really. Sirius led Harry to his room and instructed Harry to start moving Draco's belongings to the bedroom on the Third Floor Landing, opposite Mrs Malfoy's room. Draco can get pregnant. The idea was so shocking, so completely unbelievable, despite the fact that Harry had been living in the magical world for five years now.

By the time Harry had levitated the last of Draco's belongings, setting his bookbag on the floor by the double bed, he was already being called back downstairs by Sirius, Ron and his family having arrived.

Harry entered the kitchen apprehensively. He was fully aware that Mrs Malfoy was watching him from her chair at the table, and so he kept his gaze on Percy Weasley, not wanting to address the issue that he was effectively trying to date her only son.

"You wanted to speak to me, Percy?" he asked, not bothering to greet Percy warmly.

During his role working for Cornelius Fudge, Percy Weasley had disowned his family. He had argued with them so much, to the extent that Mr Weasley had actually raised his voice and shouted. A rare thing, indeed. Ron and his family hadn't heard from Percy much since then, if at all, Harry knew. Percy had taken the Ministry of Magic's side, not believing that Voldemort had returned last year.

Harry, who was currently already in a bad mood, very much felt like he might end up raising his own voice.

"I'm here on behalf of Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic," he announced tensely. "Scrimgeour has an offer for you, Harry. One he believes you might like."

"Oh, this will be good," Ron said. He was seated at the kitchen table, dressed down in a red flannel shirt and jeans, a pint of butterbeer in hand. He sipped it quickly, and said, "Harry hates dealing with Ministers of Magic, Fudge was the worst."

Bill grunted. "This had better be good, Percy. Remember, father sent me here to watch you."

The Curse-Breaker was seated beside his fiancée at the table, a glass of water in front of him. He looked handsome, hair thrown back into a short ponytail, wearing a shirt and trousers. Fleur, in turn, looked extraordinary, her hair pulled into a braid, her blue dress matching her dark blue eyes. She was speaking quietly to Draco, the two nestled quietly together at the end of the kitchen table.

Harry was glad he had others around him. He had never liked speaking to Ministry employees, less so being made offers from them.

"What's the offer?" he asked directly.

"Scrimgeour would like for you to support the Ministry, as it were. Interviews, posters...if you're seen walking in and out of the Ministry, that would be good for morale."

He scowled. "You want me to give the impression that I support the Ministry?"

"Umbridge told Scrimgeour that you're keen on becoming an Auror. While you're doing interviews, you could easily meet with Gawain Robards, who is currently Head of the Auror Office. Scrimgeour told me that it would be very easy for you to gain a placement in that department upon you leaving Hogwarts." He raised his hand and coughed into his sleeve, and continued more confidently, "You should think about this seriously, Harry. You're unlikely to be offered anything given your current vampire status. Umbridge herself was aghast when she found out about it; she tried to persuade the Minister of Magic not to offer you this opportunity."

Percy could not have made his offer in a less desirable way.

"Your opportunity, it's not something I'm interested in. I don't approve of what you're doing." Harry could feel himself sneering, barely able to control his anger. "Your lot locked up Stan Shunpike."

"The Knight Bus conductor? You care about him?"

Ron leapt out of his chair. "You bastard, Percy. That's Shunpike, you're insulting."

"Ronald, wait," Bill said, quietening his brother. "We did promise father we'd let Harry hear his offer."

"It's fine, Bill. I'll hear him," Harry said. "Of course I care, Percy. Draco was driven here by the Knight Bus, and the new Conductor was horrible." The woman had let Draco fall out of the Knight Bus. The only good thing she had done was take Draco's bribe, and even then, Harry wasn't sure that she'd stay silence. "You're using Stan as a scapegoat. Because you can't catch actual Death Eaters."

"So, you're refusing to work for the Ministry? Refusing to assist the Minister of Magic himself?"

Harry had had enough. He raised his right fist. There, shining white on the back of his cold hand, were the scars which Dolores Umbridge had forced him to carve into his own flesh. I must not tell lies.

"I don't remember you rushing to my defence when I was telling everyone Voldemort was back. The Ministry wasn't so keen to be pals last year." He looked at his hand, and grimaced. "This is what Umbridge did to me. With a Black Quill."

"Umbridge did what she had to."

From his seat next to Mrs Malfoy, Sirius cackled. He brought his wand out from his robes and waved it around. "Percy, I dare you to say that to my godson again. See if you go back to Scrimgeour in one piece?"

Percy bristled. "The Minister of Magic doesn't take too kindly to threats to his staff, particularly coming from those who were suspected convicts once upon a time." He turned back to Harry, and demanded, "What is Dumbledore up to, taking so much leave away from the school? And allowing Death Eaters to stay here in Grimmauld Place?"

"Mrs Malfoy and her son aren't Death Eaters, they're guests," Harry replied. "And I wouldn't tell you or Scrimgeour what the Headmaster is up to, even if I knew."

"Dumbledore really has your support, doesn't he?" Percy said, sarcastically, apparently finally realising that he couldn't convince Harry to support the Ministry. "His man through and through."

"That's right." Harry smirked when Percy grimaced, as if he couldn't imagine trusting anyone outside of the Ministry. "And you can tell Scrimgeour I said so."

"You can leave now, Percy," Sirius said. "Unless there's anything else, I think you're done here."

Harry was innately pleased that not a single person in the room voiced the desire to have Percy Weasley stay. Percy nodded at his brother, Bill, and then grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the pot hanging beside the fireplace. He threw the powder down, and shouted, "The Burrow." As the flames wrapped around Percy, Harry breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Bloody hell." Ron was the first person who spoke. "You could've had your face on posters, Harry."

"I'd rather have those 'Potter Sucks' badges back, to be honest." Harry grinned towards Draco, who was frowning at him, looking quiet upset. "Or not. You know, anything for a laugh."

Harry grimaced. Great, you sound like an idiot, Potter. The discussion in the drawing room was coming back to him now, and he knew that he and Draco weren't going to get a moment alone together anytime soon to go over their relationship. All I want to do is talk to him, damn it.

"Draco, your things have been moved to a bedroom on the Third Floor," Sirius announced. "You should go sort through them, make sure everything is there."

Draco nodded. He turned to Fleur beside him, and asked, "Would you mind coming with me? I have something to ask of you."

"Yes. Of course, Draco."

The two veelas left the kitchen together. Harry sighed, and as Mrs Malfoy enquired Sirius about the new living arrangements, Harry went to the far end of the kitchen table to speak with Bill.

"I'm sorry about Percy, Harry," Bill said. "The Minister of Magic visited the Burrow to see you, but as you're living here and Scrimgeour doesn't access to Grimmauld Place, he suggested that Percy should visit in his place. Percy has access, unfortunately. My father couldn't refuse him that."

"It's fine." Harry noted that Ron was still seated some chairs away, still sipping on his butterbeer. "Listen, can you do something for me? You work for Gringotts, right. You've gotten money out from my Vault for me before."

Bill raised his eyebrows, looking suspicious. "Yes, I have. Why?"

"I need a hundred and one galleons and twenty-one sickles from my Vault. To pay off Mundungus Fletcher."

"You need that much to pay Fletcher off? Is this because of that supposed portkey you bought from him?" Bill asked.

"Yes. If I give you my Vault key, can you get it for me? He's coming by today around 7 p.m. And I know you can get the money."

"It's almost midday, Harry. You're leaving me with short notice." He consumed the last of the water in his glass, and stood up. "I should be able to, though. One or two goblins owe me a favour. Let me just get Fleur and we'll go."

"Cheers, Bill."

As Bill Weasley left for the Third Landing Floor, Harry went to sit with Ron. He noticed that Ron had his suitcase with him, the luggage lying next to his feet.

"Mum said I can stay for the rest of the holidays, if that's okay? Ginny's getting bad to be around, she's constantly whining about Zabini. He's not replying to her letters, see." He finished off his butterbeer, and went on, "I think I'll punch Zabini when we get back to Hogwarts, if he hasn't replied to her by then. Forget slugs this time."

"Yeah, you can stay." Harry stood up, motioning for them to leave. "C'mon, a lot's going on. I'll talk to you upstairs."

When they reached the Ground Floor, Ron asked, "So what's happening?"

Harry stopped. He had one foot on the staircase to the First Floor. Knowing that Sirius and Mrs Malfoy wouldn't overhear them, though, he replied, "Sirius found out that Draco and I are dating, Ron."

Ron frowned. "Draco's only been 'ere two days. When did you two get together?"

Harry blushed, his cheeks heating up. Yesterday, he wanted to say, when in reality he and Draco hadn't even discussed whether they were in relationship or not. Harry assumed they were. They had kissed and slept together, after all.

"We haven't talked about it. Not really. I'll, err, let you know all about it in my room."