Ossu! New long chapter....My little Draco figurine is doing good work as a
muse in my opinion, but you decide that.
Mixed feelings in this chapter, depression, fear, giddiness, snogging, and back to depression. Enjoy.
Um, guess what! I own about as much shares in the Harry Potter franchise as the Budweiser Frogs. Original ideas can be harvested at Fictionpress.net.
~~
"Potter, dammit, stop! You're making me dizzy!" Draco's voice relayed just how stressed out he was. Head in hands, normally slicked hair ruffled, the Slytherin groaned and sat rocking back and forth on his bed.
Harry paused in his pacing long enough to shoot a disbelieving look at the owner of whose room he had invaded immediately after the Ministry officials had departed, but quickly resumed his steps around the room, though it was helping the nerves of neither him nor Draco. It was only when Draco stood up suddenly and bodily dragged Harry over to sit on the bed next to him that Gryffindor's Beloved stopped, though his left leg was still twitching nervously, bouncing up and down.
Draco, head once again buried in his hands, spoke, though it was slightly muffled. "So Fudge knows I'm here. If my father gets hold of this....Then again, there's always the Mud-Mrs. Figg. She's got this house under the Fidelius Charm, so it should block out the Dark Lord, but...."
"BUT if the Ministry can get here - your dad is well-affiliated with the Ministry, so won't he be able to trace Fudge here? Or ask any of the Obliviators?" Harry's words trembled on hysterical, though he was trying to inject some sort of calmness and confidence into his speech.
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you, Potter?" the blonde answered sardonically. "It's possible that the Fidelius will block out Voldemort," he said truthfully, "but a Ministry official, accompanied by a Death Eater, could penetrate the barrier. And as it takes nothing more than the Avada to get rid of a wizard, any Death Eater could do it." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco bit back, "Yes, I bloody know you've already lived through one Avada Kedavra, Potter, but not all of us have been lucky enough to experience that!"
Both boys lapsed into silence, burdened with fear and uncertainty, and, in Harry's case, worries about wandless magic.
Truth be told, Harry wasn't as troubled by the imminent arrival of possibly a number of Death Eaters - at least, not when it came to his own life, but he didn't dare tell Draco that he was worried for the Slytherin's life. No, really, the most bothersome thing was the Memory Charm.
How did that happen? Harry's lessons with Mrs. Figg were only supposed to help him control his ki, not use it in battle. In fact, in the beginning, hadn't he only wanted to detect aura? But now....
Harry racked his brain, thinking. Professor McGonagall had once said that the only people who could do magic without wands were Animagi, and then those few people could only transform without a wand, nothing more. After four years of magical education, he knew very well that Accidental Magic could be performed without a wand, such incidences as when Harry inflated Aunt Marge, but major spells required that little stick of wood. And a Memory Charm...that was definitely a major spell.
And as much as he detested the Dursleys and they him, he never really wanted to hurt them. Wistfully, Harry thought of his younger years, how he had begged Hagrid to let him buy a book of curses in Flourish and Blotts for the sole purpose of hexing Dudley, and he almost laughed as he recalled the Ton-Tongue Toffee Incident. These Dursleys had been cruel to him, no denying it - the fresh cut on his cheek was proof of that - but Harry wasn't about to fight violence with violence.
So a Memory Charm wasn't exactly violence, but it was enough for Harry to realize that the only person deserving of his deep-founded hate and anger was Voldemort. This magic....it would be saved for Voldemort.
Harry chanced a glance at Draco. The other boy was staring into space, biting his lower lip.
Would Draco fight as well? He had refused the Dark Mark, so surely he was willing to join the Light....then again, maybe not. Remain neutral, would he?
But...Harry's thoughts trailed off as he stared out of the window into the night sky.
**
It was the light filtering in through the window that woke him effectively rather than Draco's prodding finger in his ribs. Opening his eyes reluctantly, it was to find himself face to face with a rather peeved Malfoy.
"Hurry up, before your Aunt wakes up and finds out you're not in your own room!"
Groggily, Harry whispered, "I fell asleep in your room? How come you didn't wake me up before?" There was a touch of sullenness in his voice.
Slightly pink, the Slytherin hissed, "We both fell asleep, idiot! I woke up with my head on your chest, dammit! Not pleasant, if I may say so! Now come on, out!....Please," he added as an afterthought, though there was a hint of menace in that word.
Slightly dazed at the 'please', Harry sleepily slipped off Draco's bed and tottered over to the door, opened it cautiously, and snuck out. As the door shut, Draco ran a tense hand through his blonde locks before standing up to get changed.
In all honesty, he hadn't slept well. While Harry's chest had in truth been quite comfortable, furious thoughts had clouded his dreams, thoughts of what was to happen or what could be happening, where he was to go, whom he could turn to...whom he could turn to...that was it!
Throwing aside the dark top in his hand that he had just pulled from his bureau, he dove to the floor and began rummaging through his bottom drawer for parchment, quill, and ink well.
Scrambling up to his desk, he began scribbling as fast as he could to the only person he felt he could truly trust.
~Severus, As you may or may not have heard, Harry got into a spot of bother with...~
Draco paused. Snape didn't know anything about Harry's ki ability, unless he'd heard from Dumbledore when the Headmaster granted permission for Harry to develop his powers. What should he say to his godfather?
Tentatively, he wrote,
~with a bit of Accidental Magic. The Ministry - led by Fudge - came to investigate. Harry got off, but Fudge saw me. Fudge knows I'm here, Severus, and if Lucius gets wind of it (which he will - Fudge is far too blustery), Potter and I are both in danger, even more than normal. Potter especially has me worried, mainly because he hasn't been himself lately.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Don't blame Harry, as it was partly my fault that the magic came about. Harry and I....we were just fighting again, you know the routine.~
Hesitating again, Draco mused over what to do. He didn't dare tell Snape the truth, not just yet at least, and definitely not in a letter. Shaking his head, he finished with his say.
"I'm fine right now, and as long as the Fidelius Charm over this house holds, the Dark Lord will be kept at bay. But....it's Lucius that scares me, Severus. He's far too determined to reinstate the rise of the Dark Arts, and any who stand in his way.....At least there's just over a month left until Harry and I start school again. And yet, we'll probably be even more vulnerable there.~ he added a little dispassionately.
~I'm sending this with Potter's owl, so don't be surprised by the sight of her. Hope you're well.~
Staring down at his words, he realized how stupid this was going to sound to Severus, not to mention how easily his godfather would see through and ignore his plea for forgiveness on Harry's part.
Sighing, he folded up the parchment and left it on his desk. He'd send it with Hedwig as soon as he could talk to Potter about it.
**
Aunt Petunia smiled sweetly as Draco entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later, far earlier than normal. "Feeling all right, Draco?" she asked daintily, in tribute to his supposed illness last night. However, Draco noticed that her eyes were rather red, but he hadn't seen them for long before the woman turned sharply and barked at the skinny form tending the bacon, "Hurry, boy, he's hungry."
Draco's delicate eyebrows furrowed as Harry replied meekly, "Yes, Aunt Petunia." Was Potter still upset at having modified Petunia's memory? It was as if the boldest boy in Hogwarts only acted rashly to hide an inferiority complex.
He didn't have long to brood about Potter's behavior before Harry placed a plate loaded with eggs and bacon it front of him. Draco stared imperiously up at Harry, trying to anger the other boy into his normal self, but Harry simply smiled sadly at him and moved back to the stove.
Feeling hungry for a change, especially after not eating the night before, Draco picked up his fork and applied himself to his eggs, but a hand on his shoulder made him look up. Uncle Vernon was there, and Dudley right behind him. Both were smiling pleasantly, and in Vernon's hand, a letter was clutched, while Dudley carried the rest of the daily mail. Draco felt an impending sense of doom.
"Just received a letter from Marge, Petunia dear! She's inviting us up for the weekend! Tried to call the other day, but her phone's been wonky lately! Marge wants to meet our young Draco here!"
Aunt Petunia let out an exclamation of happiness and clapped her hands in excitement. Harry, on the other hand, turned a snort into a well-disguised cough, but Uncle Vernon caught him. "Think visiting Marge is below you boy? Never fear, you're not going! Wouldn't dare trust you near my sister again after -" But he stopped, realizing Draco was eyeing him curiously.
"No," he resumed, "I'm sure we can find a babysitter for the boy, it's only for two days after all, and I daresay Marge will be glad to be rid of him for a change. Yes, I think the babysitter's the best option."
Harry was looking distinctly torn between glumness and elation, but then Petunia whispered, "We could always call what's-her-name, you know, Figg or whatever, where we used to leave him before...."
"An excellent suggestion, Petunia!" Uncle Vernon boomed, and Harry quite agreed. Yes, things were definitely taking an up-turn, as was Harry's mood. "I'll just get the phone book, dear, and we can all start packing!" he said with the air of jolly Father Christmas.
**
Aunt Petunia looked down at the old and battered phone book Uncle Vernon had handed her happily. Flipping through the 'F' section, she finally located the entry for 'Figg, Arabella: 13 Cherry Lane'. Hands trembling slightly with nerves and excitement, she dialed the number and let it ring.
Three rings in answering, Aunt Petunia was quite relieved when Mrs. Figg's cheery voice called, "Hello?"
"Ah, Mrs. Figg? This is Petunia Dursley. You used to look after my nephew Harry....."
"Oh, Petunia darling, you look lovely today!" came Arabella's reply. "When did you curl your hair like that, it's simply frabjous!"
"Er....thank you, Mrs. Figg," Petunia said hesitantly, poking her blonde hair, which had been pulled into a bun. "Yes, well-"
"Oh, it's so nice of you to write to me, Petunia darling, would you care for a spot of tea? Mr. Paws has been saying that he wanted to see you again, and I think he's such a sweet kitty, don't you agree?"
Mouth hanging open, quite confused, Aunt Petunia slowly gathered her wits, "Well, yes, that's...er, that's very kind of Mr. Paws, but I need to ask you a favor, Mrs. Figg."
"A favor? What kind of favor? I'm rather partial to chocolate, thank you very much."
Abandoning politeness and roundabout methods, Petunia said in a desperate rush, "We're going away for a weekend, and we were wondering if you could take Harry for two days, Mrs. Figg! I know this is rather sudden, but we really need your help."
"Oh, Hari-chan is still around, is he? Tufty was telling me just yesterday that he'd seen Hari-chan playing in the park two months ago!! He's only around seven years old, now, isn't he? Oh, he was such a sweet boy when he was little, always ate whatever I gave him, why, in fact, I could feed him Snowy, and Hari-chan wouldn't bat an eyelash! Only joking, Snowy, only joking!!"
Losing patience, Aunt Petunia dropped airy-fairy ways of voicing her problem and said very slowly, "Mrs. Figg, could you please take Harry this weekend, starting tomorrow morning?" She was accentuating each word. "It would really help us. Please."
"Of course I'll take Harry! I'll send Tibbles to pick him up tomorrow, and we'll have fun playing dress-up. Don't little girls like playing dress-up? I remember, when Mr. Paws was little..."
**
Harry sat watching Draco pack for his foray into unknown Muggle territory. Nervous was an understatement on the young Malfoy's part, and while Harry had calmed down impressively since the night before, this was just another worry on Draco's chest.
"This is the one you blew up, isn't it, Potter? Should I take my wand, just in case? What about my Nimbus? I mean, you're taking your Firebolt to Figg's, and I might have to make a quick escape if I hex her, which I'm apt to do, I mean, you inflated her, and if you can't handle her, then I definitely won't be able to...."
Definitely feeling lighter now that he had been given two entire days away from the Dursleys, Harry just laughed softly at his companion's mindset.
It was true, though. Although the Dursleys remained unaware, Harry wasn't going anywhere without his Firebolt or his wand. Luckily, the overnight duffle bag he'd borrowed from Dudley was big enough to conceal the broom within. And if Harry's bag was surprisingly big, it was nothing to the one that Uncle Vernon had bought for Draco. The blonde was currently stuffing it with unnecessary clothes that would definitely not been worn in a two day period.
"Oh, think it's funny, Harry?" Draco's voice was dangerous, and the way he spat out the name 'Harry' resulted in stifled laughter. "I can't believe this, of all the places Dumbledore could have hidden me, it had to be with Muggle zealots. And you," was his afterthought.
Harry's laughter started again. "I'm a major burden then, am I, Malfoy? How do you think I felt when you showed up on MY doorstep all that time ago? At least I know how to deal with Muggles. And how to pack," he giggled, staring at the now overflowing duffle, in which every item of clothing in Draco's possession that was not a Hogwarts robe or wizard cloak was packed.
"At least I have clothes of my own that fit to pack in the first place, Potter," Draco retorted.
"Got me there." Harry continued sniggering to himself.
"I can't believe this!" Draco burst out again. "Stop laughing, Harry! Help me pack, dammit, I've never used one of these bloody bags!"
Still smiling with a happiness he hadn't felt in a while, Harry slid off the bed and slouched over to Draco, kneeling down and rearranging the contents into a more acceptable setting, all the while under Draco's watchful eye.
But a knock on the door disturbed their rare moment of camaraderie. Before Harry could dive under Draco's bed or find another way of hiding, Aunt Petunia burst into the room.
With a withering glance in her nephew's direction, she said, "Packing for Draki-Draco, are we? Very well, don't you dare let anything get wrinkled! We wouldn't Marge to see a Draco at less than his best!"
Harry rolled his eyes. Draco, at his less-than-best? Well, to do that, they'd need to turn him into a ferret again and bounce him all over Aunt Marge's large home.....
Something of his thoughts must have lingered on his glazed, smiling face, for Aunt Petunia bit, "Don't smirk like that!" Feeling bolder than usual, and quite witty, she continued, "No wonder they beat you all the time at St. Brutus'! Now, Draco, come downstairs while he fixes your bag. I've got some lovely custard creams downstairs from the bakery."
Draco smirked at Harry, and with a quick, "Mend that tear in my silk shirt while you're at it, Potter," he followed Aunt Petunia out the door and downstairs.
As the door shut with a snap, Harry whispered, "Hope they don't have a Canary Cream concealed inside....or do I?"
And laughing, he continued rolling Draco's clothes carefully and tidied up the bag for the impending trip.
It was as he placed the last pair of dark wizard-made jeans in the bag and straightened up, stretching, that Harry noticed the piece of parchment folded on Draco's desk. Surreptitiously, he checked to make sure no one was coming back soon, and he whisked the parchment into his had and opened it.
Immediately he saw it was a letter to Snape - so Draco was corresponding with him after all. But that wasn't what caught Harry's mind.
No. It was the fact that Draco referred to Harry by his first name in a letter to Snape (of all people), how Draco defended Harry, how Draco seemed.....concerned about him, if Draco Malfoy could truly feel concern for another human being.
Had Malfoy changed slightly? No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. But then.....just last night, hadn't Draco said....
"Fine, we will skip the apologies!" Draco's voice echoed.
Draco was going to apologize? That didn't sound like him at all. Not like the evil git Harry had known for four years.
But Harry was saved further ponderings on the subject as the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs told him that someone, if not Draco himself, was coming. As fast as he could, he positioned the letter back as he remembered it having been, having learned that sort of discretion in Second Year in Filch's office.
Sure enough, the door opened, and it was a trifle twitchy Draco who stood framed on the threshold. He was breathing deeply through his nostrils, but not loud enough to cover up the sound of the door being closed slightly harder than usual.
"Potter," he said in a vain attempt at a casual air, "how...how in Merlin's name do you put up with them? They're nightmares from the deepest abyss of Hell! The stuff as much food down my throat as possible, they hug and drool all over me, and NOW they're telling me that this Marge is-" Here he uncannily imitated Aunt Petunia's sugary voice, "-she's such a delightful woman, Draco, and you'll be so glad you had the chance to meet her!!"
With a noise of disgust and massaging his left temple, the distressed Slytherin walked over to the bed and collapsed onto it.
Harry shook his head, and although he wanted to laugh, he couldn't bring himself to do so when both he and Draco were actually getting along for a change.
Draco piped up again. "Why did you inflate her in the first place, Harry?"
Allowing himself a grim smile, though his green eyes were flashing angrily at the memory, Harry said quietly, "I'm warning you now: she knows nothing of our world, Draco. She....she started poking fun at my parents, saying they were drunk, good-for-nothing layabouts, and that I was nothing more than a bastard child...."
Looking absolutely repulsed, as if he could just see Aunt Marge, Draco spat, "You're practically Pureblooded, Potter, and you still tolerate these pathetic excuses of Muggles? How can you be so accepting of them? I told you, Potter," he said with a softened expression, "They'll be the first to go once Voldemort conquers all. Don't get attached to people like the Weasleys or Granger - at the rate things are going, you're only going to lose them in the end." His voice was dripping with bitterness.
Harry opened his mouth, but no noise came out. Draco looked at him carefully, mirroring Harry's previous grim smile before continuing wearily.
"As much as I've hated you for it...yes, I admit it, Potter," he said dangerously, as if daring Harry to relay this to anyone, "You're important, special, whatever you want to call it. Even if you and I both loathe stating that fact, someone needs to be this war's poster boy. But remember, Potter, I tried to save you, back in the beginning. I offered you friendship, I offered you protection from pain. Those Mudbloods and Muggle- lovers that you chose over me - they'll die, Potter, once Voldemort takes over. And you'll be left alone with me in the end, as you were meant to be."
Eyes glued to Draco's face, Harry whispered slowly, "Why are you telling me this now? What am I supposed to do if you die as well, Malfoy? Where will I be then?"
Brow furrowed in confusion as to how their relaxed moment had led to this seriousness, Harry said, "You claim to judge life based on its purity of blood, but look at Voldemort - I'm more of a Pureblood than he is, and look at all the things he's done, all the havoc he's wreaked! And you!! You pride yourself on being an elite Pureblood, yet you denied the Dark Mark and your prodigious acquaintance with Dark Arts. How different are you from Ron and Hermione?"
Draco flinched at both names, but remained silent.
"Even though you don't want to hear it, it's like Dumbledore said." As he spoke, Harry also recalled Mrs. Figg's words. "As long as we stand together against Voldemort, we have a chance. I'm not asking you to fight for the Muggles and Muggle-borns. Fight for yourself, Draco, if you want to protect what your so-called pure blood stands for. And just.....stay with me, please." Harry bit his bottom lip at having betrayed such weaknesses in front of Malfoy.
There was a ringing silence before Draco said, "You need me that much, Potter?" He smirked a little, and whispered, "Well, you said that there's no need for promises, but....all right, I swear I won't hex your little Muggle Marge as long as she doesn't try to kiss me. I've got a nice phial of Bubotuber pus in my potion kit that she'd enjoy."
Harry smiled, relieved that the tension hadn't resulted in another fight between them.
Even though he'd been doing it on and off for three weeks, it finally felt normal to smile at Draco Malfoy, after four long years of scowls.
Yes, things were definitely looking up.
**
Saturday morning found Petunia Dursley humming quietly to herself as she finished tidying up the already immaculate kitchen, getting all prepared for her short excursion into the countryside.
Picking up the empty milk bottles from the counter, she sauntered out into the hall and proceeded down the foyer. Clutching the bottles in one hand, she pulled open the door, and breathed in the fresh air joyfully.
"Nyao!!"
Petunia shrieked in surprise and alarm as two of the bottles slipped from her grasp and shattered on the doorstep.
"Nyao!!"
Staring down in shock at the brown-and-white cat, who likewise was staring up at her, Aunt Petunia took in great gasping breaths, beginning to overcome her momentary fear. The cat simply blinked benignly up at her and grinned with another "Nyao!"
Stooping to gather the shards of glass off the steps, Petunia noticed the gleaming nametag hanging off the cat's light blue collar: Tibbles.
Mrs. Figg had been true to her word.
The cat meowed more urgently, standing up while arching its back, and it made a movement as if to rub up against Petunia's leg. She back away convulsively, loathe to be touched by an animal, but as she did so, she noticed a piece of paper, rolled up and taped together, bearing the words "For Hari-chan". It was wedged under the cat's collar.
Screwing up her minute courage, Aunt Petunia leant forward and, as quickly as she could, ripped the letter from the cat. She stared at it, quite bewildered, while the cat let out another yowl and began to purr, as though pleased with itself.
Curious at the appearance of such a strange thing - why would Mrs. Figg want to write to Harry? - she began to finger the tape binding the roll. What was it for? Gently, she began to prise the tape up, but.....
"Aunt Petunia?"
Petunia shrieked for the second time and dropped the last milk bottle as a hand came to rest on her shoulder, but it was quickly withdrawn when Harry realized how much he'd startled his aunt.
"So-sorry!" he stuttered, and before she could reprimand him, Harry raced to the cupboard under the stairs to fetch a broom and a dustpan. Returning shortly with both items, he sank apologetically to the floor and began to sweep up the mess. Aunt Petunia was looking daggers at him, and so to spite him, she ripped open the letter.
~To The Sweetest Little Hari-chan
We're going to buy lots of clothes to play dress-up with, so bring whatever money you have.
Cuddles, Mrs. Figgy~
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Mrs. Dursley snapped, "The Figg woman's a raving lunatic! 'Bring whatever money you have, Harry', indeed! 'We're playing dress-up'! How absolutely ridiculous!"
Harry glanced up, perplexed. Mrs. Figg wanted him to bring money as well? What was she planning? For he knew that Mrs. Figg's feigned madness was only a ploy to confuse the likes of nosy Aunt Petunia, who would undoubtedly have read the note.
However, and much to his surprise, Aunt Petunia snorted, but moved into the kitchen. Harry heard a zipper being undone, coins rattling, and as he remained crouched over the broken glass, Aunt Petunia returned to him, shoving a pound into his hand.
"Don't expect more. I see no point in wasting money on new clothes for you. Now hurry up with that, and get your bag down here. The cat is waiting." She shot a pointed look at the cat, which was now cleaning itself on her front step.
Harry brushed the last few shards into the dustpan and marched to the kitchen to dump the lot. Placing the broom back in the cupboard, he eagerly hurled himself upstairs and into his room where Draco was waiting, pacing.
The blonde looked up as soon as Harry burst into the room. "What did the banshee shriek about? Knows how to make someone panic, doesn't she?"
Smirking, Harry explained about the cat and the note. Draco's eyebrows were raised. "She wants you to bring money? Probably taking you out." He paused, and glanced at Hedwig's cage, where the snowy owl was sleeping quietly. "Listen, can you let me borrow Hedwig tonight? There's a message I want to send."
Pretending to look politely puzzled, but unconcerned, Harry nodded, and the Slytherin slipped out of the room. Draco must've been talking about the letter to Snape.
He returned quickly, indeed clutching the piece of parchment Harry had read yesterday. Acting as if he wasn't interested, Harry prodded a disgruntled, sleepy Hedwig awake, and within a few moments had tied the note to her leg.
Both boys watching the owl soar out of sight into the morning sky, but soon turned to say their brief farewells.
"Be careful, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "If you do any magic on Aunt Marge, we're both screwed." Despite the seriousness of the situation, the two smiled at each other.
"You better not have too much fun yourself, Potter," Draco muttered darkly.
And before Harry could answer, the taller boy leant down and pressed his lips to Harry's.
Surprised, yet nonetheless intrigued by the moment, Harry trailed a hand up Draco's side, and was rewarded by a shiver from the other boy. He felt Draco smile once against his mouth before the Slytherin's tongue pried Harry's lips open aggressively. Willingly succumbing to their new attraction, the two stood, reveling in all the places that their bodies touched, and Draco shuddered more convulsively as he felt Harry's hand stroke his face, run lightly up and down his forearm....
Slowly, Draco moved his mouth down Harry's jaw line, placing delicate nips all the way to the raven-haired boy's neck. Finding a sensitive place, he carefully sucked, and finally bit down, almost melting as Harry sank into him with the sensation of painful pleasure. And then...
"HARRY POTTER!! IF YOU'RE NOT DOWN HERE IN THIRTY SECONDS-"
They broke apart reluctantly, and stared at each other, both flushed pink. Draco ended the tense silence by saying, "She really knows how to ruin good moments, doesn't she? Maybe I'll jinx her instead of the other one...."
Harry laughed, kissed Draco lightly one last time, and then scooped up the duffle bag containing his Firebolt, wand, and clothes. At the doorway, he paused, and ran to his trunk. Ripping open the lid, he grabbed his jangling moneybag and shoved it in the duffle.
As he reached the doorway for the second time, he stopped once again, turned, and smiled at Draco, his emerald eyes glimmering.
"See you in a bit, then, Malfoy. Do try to stay in one piece, for me, at least."
Draco nodded in agreement, but a satisfied smirk lingered on his lips. "The feeling's mutual, Potter."
**
The quick trip to Mrs. Figg's was uneventful, though Aunt Petunia's glowering face as she shoved Harry out the door was not a good omen to begin a promising weekend.
Feeling utterly lighthearted in a way that he hadn't felt since before the Third Task, Harry knocked on Mrs. Figg's door while Tibbles went around the back into the garden, he assumed.
It wasn't long before he was ushered into Arabella's home, right onto her lace-covered couch. Leaving his bag by the door, Harry relaxed into the comfort that could only be attained by being in a house where one was quite welcome.
When Mrs. Figg returned from the kitchen bearing a tray of pumpkin juice and cauldron cakes, she said sternly, "I've got something to discuss with you, Mr. Potter."
She was looking incredibly grave, but Harry had a feeling he knew what this was about. "Does everyone know about my little run-in with the Ministry?"
Shooting him a penetrating glare, Mrs. Figg said, "Fudge and Peasegood know, so I wouldn't be surprised if a number of Ministry officials know. But Dumbledore found out, and he told me. Dobby did it, did you say? I don't believe a word of that, Harry."
Sighing, Harry looked away and said, "I did a Memory Charm on Aunt Petunia. She....she caught Draco and I together, and....well, really, if she saw us together, it wouldn't take long for her to put two and two together and realize that Malfoy's not a respectable Muggle, like she thinks he is."
"Together?" Mrs. Figg barked sharply. "What do you mean by that?"
Blushing deeply, Harry stuttered, "Well, we...um, you see...er-"
Raising both of her eyebrows, Mrs. Figg said, "Very well." His blush had told her everything that his 'ers' hadn't. "But you might want to wear a high cloak today in Diagon Alley. I'm sure your friends Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger wouldn't want to see that little red mark on your neck."
Harry stared at Mrs. Figg, who smiled brightly. He regained composure momentarily, and whispered, "We're going to Diagon Alley? Ron....and Hermione are going to be there? How-"
Grinning in way that said she was very pleased with herself, Arabella chimed, "Oh, as soon as your aunt called me and asked me to take you, I contacted Dumbledore. He sent me Hogwarts letters for both you and Draco, and I owled the Weasleys. We all agreed to meet there in the Leaky Cauldron today. You have your money on you, right? You got the letter from Tibbles?"
Beginning to grin himself, Harry said, "Yeah, it's all in my bag! But....what about Draco? How's he getting his stuff?"
"Well," said Mrs. Figg slowly, "It's no good to have him out in the open in Diagon Alley, and since we can't get money out of his own vault, Severus Snape offered to pay for him. I'll buy his things while you walk around with your friends."
Sheepishly, Harry said, "I, um, don't have a cloak on me. How am I supposed to hide this?" He was deeply embarrassed as he pointed at the bite on his neck.
Chortling, Arabella answered, I've got some Muggle makeup concealer. That's about the best I can offer you, though I must say, the thing would be a talking point if you just left it like that."
Harry paled. "No way!"
**
Within half an hour, and after much of Harry's mixed outrage at Draco having marked him and his embarrassment at having to where makeup, the odd couple had helped themselves to Floo Powder (after Harry removed his glasses) and were off.
The Leaky Cauldron was as dim and old-fashioned as ever, but brimming with some of the most interesting figures that were so characteristic of the wizarding world.
Tom, polishing the wood counter of the bar, looked up curiously as Harry and Mrs. Figg came tumbling out of the gigantic fireplace, but smiled toothlessly at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived and waved enthusiastically. Harry waved back at him, and, looking down, began wiping the soot off his Muggle clothes. Mrs. Figg did the same next to him.
Harry hadn't gotten far at all when two blurs bellowing his name hit him with such force and momentum that the Golden Trio landed in a heap on the sooty hearth of the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace. Buried under the tangle of arms and legs that was Ron, and feeling that Hermione was liable to choke him with her arms gripped around his neck, Harry glanced up and saw the blurred red hair that could only be the Weasley family beaming down at him.
"Now, Ron, be careful, or you'll suffocate poor Harry!!" Mrs. Weasley chided her youngest son, though her voice remained buoyant, and her dimples stood out quite clearly, as far as Harry could tell in the candlelight without his glasses.
It was the twins who thankfully came to Harry's rescue, forcibly lifting their brother and Hermione off their best friend. Hermione was the main problem - her hands were so tightly wound around Harry's neck that Harry was personally sure she would be permanently attached to his body. Fred manage to prise her off in the end, and bodily dragged her over a few feet away to where George was restraining the much taller Ron.
With Mrs. Figg's arm under his elbow, Harry gingerly resumed a standing position, wincing as he felt the pain in his back muscles where the flagged stones of the hearth had dug in.
"Hello to you, too," he joked.
Once he was on his feet, the smirking twins released their captives, and Harry soon found himself surrounded by his two dearest, yet currently inquisitive, companions; this time, they were much more wary of knocking him over, luckily.
"Sorry 'bout that, mate," Ron said apologetically, but as he looked down at Harry, he couldn't remove his addictive goofy grin from his features.
Hermione, bouncing up and down on the balls her feet, wasn't about to let Ron keep Harry all to himself. In fact, Harry had rarely seen Hermione's excitement reach such a pitch, even during the months when she spent her days rattling around with her box of S.P.E.W. badges.
"Oh, Harry," she began breathlessly, "You look so good!! Oh, I'm so glad you're safe and OK!!"
She made as if to capture him in another collarbone-fracturing embrace, but Harry, quite apart from not wanting to be strangled again, had caught a flicker of a scowl on Ron's face at Hermione's antics, and so he backed up, throwing up his arms in self-defense.
Laughing, he said, "It's just me, Mione! I told you, what, two days ago that I was fine, and things haven't changed!"
Hermione looked skeptical. Was it possible that even the Weasleys knew about his run-in with Fudge?
Biting back his worry, he said cajolingly, "Look, Ron's not altogether flipped, so calm down, Mione! Just me...."
"What he means," Fred started, speaking for the first time, "Is that he's fine so long as you two back up, let him breathe, and-"
"Let us say hello first!!" George finished pompously.
Without further ado, the twins pushed roughly past Ron and Hermione, and within moments had dropped to their knees, prostrating themselves on the ground before Harry.
Not even the tiniest trace of a smirk visible on either identical freckled face, Fred and George began bowing up and down, booming out praise for Harry in earshot of the entire pub.
"All hail the mightiest Seeker!"
"All hail the new joke shop guinea pig leader!"
"All hail the -"
"Boys, that is quite ENOUGH!!" Mrs. Weasley gasped out, though she was quite the only one showing feelings of anger and disbelief. Even Hermione seemed relaxed about - although somewhat guilty - having enjoyed the twins' display. Ron, as usual, was laughing furiously, and his blue eyes twinkled when Harry met them.
"They've been practicing that since yesterday, Mum!" protested another voice. "After all their hard work -"
"When they could have been doing schoolwork with their N.E.W.T.S coming up, Ginny? No, that's absolutely unacceptable! I may have agreed to the joke shop, but this!!"
Harry looked past Ron and Mrs. Weasley, and saw the youngest Weasley standing slightly apart from her family, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping irritably.
Ginny's appearance came as something of a shock to Harry. He remembered Ginny, his best friend's little sister, as being small, quiet, reserved. But now, his widened eyes took in her shorter hair, cut up past chin level, her long red tresses gone. She seemed to be taller, though as she obviously couldn't have grown that much in three weeks, Harry realized he must have missed it in the excitement of the last term. She was wearing grey robes, but they were open in front, revealing a low-necked shirt that absolutely accentuated her curves.
But the most surprising thing was that, when he locked eyes with the speechless Harry, she smiled genuinely at him. Without the shy deep-red blush Harry was so accustomed to.
However, he had hardly noticed this new girl of fourteen before Ron had grabbed his by the arm and was steering him over to the back door, which would take the group out into the courtyard separating the inn from Diagon Alley.
"Yeah, that's Ginny," Ron whispered in his ear. "Percy, Charlie, and I aren't too happy about it, but Bill and the twins say she's old enough to, uh, express herself. She's got her eyes only on you though, mate, so I'm not too worried."
Hermione, not having heard any of the exchange, queried, "You have your Hogwarts letter, don't you, Harry?" She was almost sounding like her normal bossy self.
"Hang on," Harry replied, "Mrs. Figg has it." He doubled back through the gaggle of Weasleys to where Arabella was conversing with a still glowering Molly, Ginny hovering aloofly next to them. Harry caught a little of what they were saying.
"Anything you need to get here today? I'm sure the children can take care of themselves, so why don't we stick together?"
"Oh, I just have a few items to pick up, doing Dumbledore a favor," Mrs. Figg said confidingly. "A poor Muggleborn student broke his leg a few days ago, and as he's in no condition to come and get his school things himself, Dumbledore asked if I could do it. Well, I know what it's like to be bedridden like that-" Mrs. Weasley clucked sympathetically "-So I couldn't refuse."
Arabella pulled out the two Hogwarts letters and waved them.
Harry stepped forward and asked, "Can I have mine? We'll go faster if we split up, and Ron and Mione-" He jerked his thumb suggestively back at his friends, who were waiting by the now-open archway.
Fond smiles emanating from both motherly faces, Harry found himself being presented with a folded parchment letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. The envelope had no name, and Harry supposed Dumbledore must have sneaked the two out of McGonagall's stock and sent them to Mrs. Figg himself, in order to save odd questions should the envelope's surname "Malfoy" be noticed by the Weasleys.
Taking it with a word of thanks, Harry turned and bounded joyfully back to his smiling friends.
"I'm telling you now, if I find out any of you went down Knockturn Alley...." Mrs. Weasley threatened, and Harry, who besides having no wish to check out the Dark Arts street, knew Molly was dead serious.
**
Sitting outside Florean Fortiscue's was indeed comfortable, the shade under the large umbrellas shielding them from the sun most welcome. The three were conversing quietly, large bags filled with their shopping propped up against their chairs.
"So.....your mum is going through with the joke shop idea the twins have?" Harry was quite pleased that his money was indeed being used for the purpose he had hoped for.
Hermione looked stern, and bit, "You have no idea, Harry. Living with them is a nightmare! I've been at the Burrow for all of three days, and Fred and George are having the time of their lives pulling pranks on someone not as familiar with their tricks as the rest of the family. They dyed my hair bright green yesterday by feeding me a hexed apple!"
Ron injected happily, "Oh yeah, those are the Aesthetic Adornment Apples! Change your hair to match the color of the apple, Ginny came up with the name." Hermione glared at Ron.
"Did you take pictures?" Harry asked urgently, grinning evilly at Hermione.
"No, the girl sprinted upstairs and shut herself in her and Ginny's room and went through every book in her trunk until she found a spell to undo it. Mione really didn't need to waste all that time reading though," Ron said, chuckling, "'Cause it wears off after twenty-four hours anyway. You could have seen her yourself if she hadn't figured out how to take it off."
Hermione, not at all pleased with the direction in which their conversation was heading, immediately changed the subject. "How's this....girlfriend....of yours doing, Harry?"
Flushing slightly, Harry applied himself to his melting banana icecream, yet said quietly, "I don't know what you're talking about, Hermione Granger."
"Oh, is that so?" she said scathingly. "Then how did you get that little mark on your neck? I've been meaning to ask you since we were in Flourish and Blotts, but you and Ron were having such fun with the wizard coloring book display that it skipped my mind."
Clapping a hand to his neck over the spot just below his left ear, Harry stared wildly from a smug Hermione to a Ron trying to crane his head to see the mark. Of course! When Hermione had grabbed him around his neck, she must have wiped the concealer off....
"This Moemi isn't just a garden snake, is she, Harry?"
"Maybe not, Bubbles," Harry admitted, though with a hint of nastiness in his voice that just screamed, 'Ask me one more question, and I spit poison!"
"Oh, leave him alone, Mione!" Ron came to his aid, but with a touch of jealous impatience towards Harry. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, wait till he does. It's not like he's fooling around with a Slytherin or something."
Harry blanched, but Hermione and Ron took it as his reaction to the thought of being near enough to a Slytherin to fool around with.
Jokingly, Ron said to Harry, "Like the Asians, do you?"
Feigning indifference, Harry said, "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Weasley.....and while we're on the subject of relationships, when are you going to take a look at Her-"
But he was cut off as a pair of hands suddenly covered his eyes, and sightless, he let out a startled exclamation.
"Guess who, Harry! Can you guess who I am?"
"Geroff, Colin! You bloody scared him!" came Ron's voice impatiently.
"Not until he guesses who I am!"
Harry spoke up, trying to see through the fingers wrapped around his eyes. "Um, hi, Colin....having a nice summer, I expect?"
Colin let go of Harry's face and said disappointedly, "He got me on the first try....."
Shooting Ron a look nothing short of immense exasperation, Harry said, "Keep trying, Colin, I'm sure you'll fool me one day. Um, here buying your school stuff, I guess?"
"Of course! Dennis and Emma are in Ollivander's trying out wands - my little sister Emma's starting, too!! My dad's so excited, naturally! Just hope she's in Gryffindor, right?"
Hermione directed pointedly suppressing looks at Ron and Harry, and asked cautiously, "Just exactly how many siblings do you have, Colin?"
The entire Golden Trio crossed their fingers under the table.
"Well, it's just the three of us, really. I wish I had loads of siblings like you, Ron!" Colin ended enthusiastically. "That must be so much fun, with everyone being magical."
"Anytime you feel like having green hair for a day or being lectured on cauldron bottoms....." Ron trailed off.
"Or having your teddy bear turned into a giant spider," Hermione reminded Ron, giggling.
"Or having your pet Puffskein used for Bludger practice," said Harry, fighting a battle between amusement and pity.
"You can take my place, Colin," Ron finished dramatically.
Colin's eyes shone with unsurpassable excitement. "Really? You mean it? I can come?"
Watching Ron roll his eyes, Harry just gave silent thanks that they'd forgotten about Draco's little token of affection.
Colin ambled off shortly to find his siblings, promising to introduce Emma as soon as possible (Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to introduce her to Harry or to the scar), his face glowing with the prospect of trading places with Ron.
"What's the betting," Ron whispered across the table, "That he owls me tomorrow asking to come to the Burrow?"
"Better you and Hermione than me and D-" Harry cut off sharply at his mistake, but not quickly enough.
"'D'? Harry, it's 'D'?" Nope, Hermione hadn't forgotten, and judging by his sniggers, Ron hadn't either.
"No," a very red Harry bit, "'D' equals 'Dudley'. Are you suggesting-"
"Urgh, no way, Harry, OK, we get the point!!" Ron was obviously not too keen to discuss that particular subject.
Hermione laughed, but her eyes remained shrewd. She began gathering up her bags, and the boys, one disgruntled, one flushed, did the same.
They had barely gone two steps from Florean Fortescue's when a most unwelcome sight hit theirs eyes.
Crabbe and Goyle were shuffling stupidly up the crowded alleyway, the two of them together cutting a swathe nearly as wide as Hagrid.
"Oh, look mates, it's the chickens, but where's their head?" Ron said loudly, but Harry backed up.
Although he wished he could have told Ron to be quiet and not to draw attention to themselves, although he wished to scream to the entire street that there were two mini-Death Eaters in broad daylight, he couldn't convey this to either Ron or Hermione without arousing suspicion. He settled for the 'pretend to be disgusted and don't waste your time' ploy.
"Ron, leave them, let's just-"
But it was too late. Crabbe and Goyle had spotted the Trio, and with a dimmed maliciousness, they began to head towards Fortescue's where Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood standing, stopping only feet from them.
Ron, feeling very bold and liking his present upper-hand in the situation, continued, "So you're out without that little piece of scum, Malfoy, today, are you? Finally realized you could think for yourselves, have you?"
But they ignored Ron. Grinning evilly, Crabbe asked petulantly, "Seen Malfoy lately, Potty?"
However, he'd obviously said something wrong, because Goyle elbowed him and said, "We don't know, right? Remember?"
"Don't know what?" Hermione said, half-curious, half-impatient.
"Where Malfoy is!" Crabbe said proudly, having answered a question correctly for once in his life. He was staring pointedly in Harry's direction.
Hermione shot a quick, quizzical look at Harry, but his face was as impassive as a rock. Indeed, his jaw was so tightly shut that she was surprised when he managed to open it and say to his friends, "Come on, leave them to their shopping."
And without another word, he turned away, marching in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. Ron and Hermione followed, though both looked worried.
Crabbe and Goyle just stood and sniggered after them, but soon disappeared in the crowd.
**
Harry remained rather quiet for the rest of the afternoon, preferring to let Hermione and Ron do all the talking. He was rather unaware of the strain on his friends, as both of them fought the urge to ask him what was really going on. The red mark on Harry's neck, the few strange words Crabbe and Goyle had managed to say, and about all the stress that Harry still probably carrying from the night of the Third Task...
It was an extremely subdued Golden Trio that said their farewells that evening in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Come and stay if you can, Harry," Ron urged. "I promise," he said with an evil glance in the twins' direction, "That I'll make sure they don't feed you anything.....unnatural."
"Couldn't have done the same for me, could you?" said Hermione snappishly, but it was with a much softer expression that she turned to Harry.
"Take care of yourself, Harry. Ron's right, we're both close by if you need us. Just relax, do some schoolwork....."
"Ah, the wise words of Dr. Granger - do schoolwork, and all your problems will disappear in a cloud of runes and Arithmancy numbers and potion ingredients," Ron laughed.
Harry cracked a small smile at that, and both of his friends noticed. Maybe there was hope after all.
**
Mrs. Figg dropped a number of parcels into Harry's lap as he sat on her couch watching TV that evening with a preoccupied air.
"There you go, pack those in your bag - Mr. Malfoy's things. I hope you have enough room in there with that broomstick of yours in there."
She watched him stand wearily, marching over to his bag and dropping the contents inside messily, as if he hardly noticed what he was doing.
Frowning, she said quietly, "What's wrong, Harry? You've been quiet all afternoon."
Turning slowly, Harry scrutinized Mrs. Figg carefully, as though noticing her for the first time that night. But his gaze was not held much longer. Dropping his eyes to the ground, he said in a rush, "I....I think the Death Eaters found out about where Draco is."
Eyes open in alarm, Arabella said, "How can you be sure? Harry, this is serious! What do you know?"
Starting to feel flutters of panic, Harry explained about what Crabbe and Goyle had said - or not said.
One hand over her mouth, Mrs. Figg said shortly, "I have to owl Dumbledore about this immediately. Harry, let me take you upstairs to your room, and try to get some sleep."
Harry nodded wearily. He'd worry about the Death Eaters and Draco tomorrow.
Or at least, that's what he thought he'd do, but the sudden exploding, blinding pain his scar as he took the first two steps towards the staircase put an end to that argument.
~~
Reviews are appreciated, and much thanks is given in return!!
"Hari-" is just how you say and spell "Harry" in Japanese. "Chan" is an affectionate ending usually used on children and girls. "Hari-chan" is actually what one of my friends, who adores him, calls Harry.
Mixed feelings in this chapter, depression, fear, giddiness, snogging, and back to depression. Enjoy.
Um, guess what! I own about as much shares in the Harry Potter franchise as the Budweiser Frogs. Original ideas can be harvested at Fictionpress.net.
~~
"Potter, dammit, stop! You're making me dizzy!" Draco's voice relayed just how stressed out he was. Head in hands, normally slicked hair ruffled, the Slytherin groaned and sat rocking back and forth on his bed.
Harry paused in his pacing long enough to shoot a disbelieving look at the owner of whose room he had invaded immediately after the Ministry officials had departed, but quickly resumed his steps around the room, though it was helping the nerves of neither him nor Draco. It was only when Draco stood up suddenly and bodily dragged Harry over to sit on the bed next to him that Gryffindor's Beloved stopped, though his left leg was still twitching nervously, bouncing up and down.
Draco, head once again buried in his hands, spoke, though it was slightly muffled. "So Fudge knows I'm here. If my father gets hold of this....Then again, there's always the Mud-Mrs. Figg. She's got this house under the Fidelius Charm, so it should block out the Dark Lord, but...."
"BUT if the Ministry can get here - your dad is well-affiliated with the Ministry, so won't he be able to trace Fudge here? Or ask any of the Obliviators?" Harry's words trembled on hysterical, though he was trying to inject some sort of calmness and confidence into his speech.
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you, Potter?" the blonde answered sardonically. "It's possible that the Fidelius will block out Voldemort," he said truthfully, "but a Ministry official, accompanied by a Death Eater, could penetrate the barrier. And as it takes nothing more than the Avada to get rid of a wizard, any Death Eater could do it." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco bit back, "Yes, I bloody know you've already lived through one Avada Kedavra, Potter, but not all of us have been lucky enough to experience that!"
Both boys lapsed into silence, burdened with fear and uncertainty, and, in Harry's case, worries about wandless magic.
Truth be told, Harry wasn't as troubled by the imminent arrival of possibly a number of Death Eaters - at least, not when it came to his own life, but he didn't dare tell Draco that he was worried for the Slytherin's life. No, really, the most bothersome thing was the Memory Charm.
How did that happen? Harry's lessons with Mrs. Figg were only supposed to help him control his ki, not use it in battle. In fact, in the beginning, hadn't he only wanted to detect aura? But now....
Harry racked his brain, thinking. Professor McGonagall had once said that the only people who could do magic without wands were Animagi, and then those few people could only transform without a wand, nothing more. After four years of magical education, he knew very well that Accidental Magic could be performed without a wand, such incidences as when Harry inflated Aunt Marge, but major spells required that little stick of wood. And a Memory Charm...that was definitely a major spell.
And as much as he detested the Dursleys and they him, he never really wanted to hurt them. Wistfully, Harry thought of his younger years, how he had begged Hagrid to let him buy a book of curses in Flourish and Blotts for the sole purpose of hexing Dudley, and he almost laughed as he recalled the Ton-Tongue Toffee Incident. These Dursleys had been cruel to him, no denying it - the fresh cut on his cheek was proof of that - but Harry wasn't about to fight violence with violence.
So a Memory Charm wasn't exactly violence, but it was enough for Harry to realize that the only person deserving of his deep-founded hate and anger was Voldemort. This magic....it would be saved for Voldemort.
Harry chanced a glance at Draco. The other boy was staring into space, biting his lower lip.
Would Draco fight as well? He had refused the Dark Mark, so surely he was willing to join the Light....then again, maybe not. Remain neutral, would he?
But...Harry's thoughts trailed off as he stared out of the window into the night sky.
**
It was the light filtering in through the window that woke him effectively rather than Draco's prodding finger in his ribs. Opening his eyes reluctantly, it was to find himself face to face with a rather peeved Malfoy.
"Hurry up, before your Aunt wakes up and finds out you're not in your own room!"
Groggily, Harry whispered, "I fell asleep in your room? How come you didn't wake me up before?" There was a touch of sullenness in his voice.
Slightly pink, the Slytherin hissed, "We both fell asleep, idiot! I woke up with my head on your chest, dammit! Not pleasant, if I may say so! Now come on, out!....Please," he added as an afterthought, though there was a hint of menace in that word.
Slightly dazed at the 'please', Harry sleepily slipped off Draco's bed and tottered over to the door, opened it cautiously, and snuck out. As the door shut, Draco ran a tense hand through his blonde locks before standing up to get changed.
In all honesty, he hadn't slept well. While Harry's chest had in truth been quite comfortable, furious thoughts had clouded his dreams, thoughts of what was to happen or what could be happening, where he was to go, whom he could turn to...whom he could turn to...that was it!
Throwing aside the dark top in his hand that he had just pulled from his bureau, he dove to the floor and began rummaging through his bottom drawer for parchment, quill, and ink well.
Scrambling up to his desk, he began scribbling as fast as he could to the only person he felt he could truly trust.
~Severus, As you may or may not have heard, Harry got into a spot of bother with...~
Draco paused. Snape didn't know anything about Harry's ki ability, unless he'd heard from Dumbledore when the Headmaster granted permission for Harry to develop his powers. What should he say to his godfather?
Tentatively, he wrote,
~with a bit of Accidental Magic. The Ministry - led by Fudge - came to investigate. Harry got off, but Fudge saw me. Fudge knows I'm here, Severus, and if Lucius gets wind of it (which he will - Fudge is far too blustery), Potter and I are both in danger, even more than normal. Potter especially has me worried, mainly because he hasn't been himself lately.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Don't blame Harry, as it was partly my fault that the magic came about. Harry and I....we were just fighting again, you know the routine.~
Hesitating again, Draco mused over what to do. He didn't dare tell Snape the truth, not just yet at least, and definitely not in a letter. Shaking his head, he finished with his say.
"I'm fine right now, and as long as the Fidelius Charm over this house holds, the Dark Lord will be kept at bay. But....it's Lucius that scares me, Severus. He's far too determined to reinstate the rise of the Dark Arts, and any who stand in his way.....At least there's just over a month left until Harry and I start school again. And yet, we'll probably be even more vulnerable there.~ he added a little dispassionately.
~I'm sending this with Potter's owl, so don't be surprised by the sight of her. Hope you're well.~
Staring down at his words, he realized how stupid this was going to sound to Severus, not to mention how easily his godfather would see through and ignore his plea for forgiveness on Harry's part.
Sighing, he folded up the parchment and left it on his desk. He'd send it with Hedwig as soon as he could talk to Potter about it.
**
Aunt Petunia smiled sweetly as Draco entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later, far earlier than normal. "Feeling all right, Draco?" she asked daintily, in tribute to his supposed illness last night. However, Draco noticed that her eyes were rather red, but he hadn't seen them for long before the woman turned sharply and barked at the skinny form tending the bacon, "Hurry, boy, he's hungry."
Draco's delicate eyebrows furrowed as Harry replied meekly, "Yes, Aunt Petunia." Was Potter still upset at having modified Petunia's memory? It was as if the boldest boy in Hogwarts only acted rashly to hide an inferiority complex.
He didn't have long to brood about Potter's behavior before Harry placed a plate loaded with eggs and bacon it front of him. Draco stared imperiously up at Harry, trying to anger the other boy into his normal self, but Harry simply smiled sadly at him and moved back to the stove.
Feeling hungry for a change, especially after not eating the night before, Draco picked up his fork and applied himself to his eggs, but a hand on his shoulder made him look up. Uncle Vernon was there, and Dudley right behind him. Both were smiling pleasantly, and in Vernon's hand, a letter was clutched, while Dudley carried the rest of the daily mail. Draco felt an impending sense of doom.
"Just received a letter from Marge, Petunia dear! She's inviting us up for the weekend! Tried to call the other day, but her phone's been wonky lately! Marge wants to meet our young Draco here!"
Aunt Petunia let out an exclamation of happiness and clapped her hands in excitement. Harry, on the other hand, turned a snort into a well-disguised cough, but Uncle Vernon caught him. "Think visiting Marge is below you boy? Never fear, you're not going! Wouldn't dare trust you near my sister again after -" But he stopped, realizing Draco was eyeing him curiously.
"No," he resumed, "I'm sure we can find a babysitter for the boy, it's only for two days after all, and I daresay Marge will be glad to be rid of him for a change. Yes, I think the babysitter's the best option."
Harry was looking distinctly torn between glumness and elation, but then Petunia whispered, "We could always call what's-her-name, you know, Figg or whatever, where we used to leave him before...."
"An excellent suggestion, Petunia!" Uncle Vernon boomed, and Harry quite agreed. Yes, things were definitely taking an up-turn, as was Harry's mood. "I'll just get the phone book, dear, and we can all start packing!" he said with the air of jolly Father Christmas.
**
Aunt Petunia looked down at the old and battered phone book Uncle Vernon had handed her happily. Flipping through the 'F' section, she finally located the entry for 'Figg, Arabella: 13 Cherry Lane'. Hands trembling slightly with nerves and excitement, she dialed the number and let it ring.
Three rings in answering, Aunt Petunia was quite relieved when Mrs. Figg's cheery voice called, "Hello?"
"Ah, Mrs. Figg? This is Petunia Dursley. You used to look after my nephew Harry....."
"Oh, Petunia darling, you look lovely today!" came Arabella's reply. "When did you curl your hair like that, it's simply frabjous!"
"Er....thank you, Mrs. Figg," Petunia said hesitantly, poking her blonde hair, which had been pulled into a bun. "Yes, well-"
"Oh, it's so nice of you to write to me, Petunia darling, would you care for a spot of tea? Mr. Paws has been saying that he wanted to see you again, and I think he's such a sweet kitty, don't you agree?"
Mouth hanging open, quite confused, Aunt Petunia slowly gathered her wits, "Well, yes, that's...er, that's very kind of Mr. Paws, but I need to ask you a favor, Mrs. Figg."
"A favor? What kind of favor? I'm rather partial to chocolate, thank you very much."
Abandoning politeness and roundabout methods, Petunia said in a desperate rush, "We're going away for a weekend, and we were wondering if you could take Harry for two days, Mrs. Figg! I know this is rather sudden, but we really need your help."
"Oh, Hari-chan is still around, is he? Tufty was telling me just yesterday that he'd seen Hari-chan playing in the park two months ago!! He's only around seven years old, now, isn't he? Oh, he was such a sweet boy when he was little, always ate whatever I gave him, why, in fact, I could feed him Snowy, and Hari-chan wouldn't bat an eyelash! Only joking, Snowy, only joking!!"
Losing patience, Aunt Petunia dropped airy-fairy ways of voicing her problem and said very slowly, "Mrs. Figg, could you please take Harry this weekend, starting tomorrow morning?" She was accentuating each word. "It would really help us. Please."
"Of course I'll take Harry! I'll send Tibbles to pick him up tomorrow, and we'll have fun playing dress-up. Don't little girls like playing dress-up? I remember, when Mr. Paws was little..."
**
Harry sat watching Draco pack for his foray into unknown Muggle territory. Nervous was an understatement on the young Malfoy's part, and while Harry had calmed down impressively since the night before, this was just another worry on Draco's chest.
"This is the one you blew up, isn't it, Potter? Should I take my wand, just in case? What about my Nimbus? I mean, you're taking your Firebolt to Figg's, and I might have to make a quick escape if I hex her, which I'm apt to do, I mean, you inflated her, and if you can't handle her, then I definitely won't be able to...."
Definitely feeling lighter now that he had been given two entire days away from the Dursleys, Harry just laughed softly at his companion's mindset.
It was true, though. Although the Dursleys remained unaware, Harry wasn't going anywhere without his Firebolt or his wand. Luckily, the overnight duffle bag he'd borrowed from Dudley was big enough to conceal the broom within. And if Harry's bag was surprisingly big, it was nothing to the one that Uncle Vernon had bought for Draco. The blonde was currently stuffing it with unnecessary clothes that would definitely not been worn in a two day period.
"Oh, think it's funny, Harry?" Draco's voice was dangerous, and the way he spat out the name 'Harry' resulted in stifled laughter. "I can't believe this, of all the places Dumbledore could have hidden me, it had to be with Muggle zealots. And you," was his afterthought.
Harry's laughter started again. "I'm a major burden then, am I, Malfoy? How do you think I felt when you showed up on MY doorstep all that time ago? At least I know how to deal with Muggles. And how to pack," he giggled, staring at the now overflowing duffle, in which every item of clothing in Draco's possession that was not a Hogwarts robe or wizard cloak was packed.
"At least I have clothes of my own that fit to pack in the first place, Potter," Draco retorted.
"Got me there." Harry continued sniggering to himself.
"I can't believe this!" Draco burst out again. "Stop laughing, Harry! Help me pack, dammit, I've never used one of these bloody bags!"
Still smiling with a happiness he hadn't felt in a while, Harry slid off the bed and slouched over to Draco, kneeling down and rearranging the contents into a more acceptable setting, all the while under Draco's watchful eye.
But a knock on the door disturbed their rare moment of camaraderie. Before Harry could dive under Draco's bed or find another way of hiding, Aunt Petunia burst into the room.
With a withering glance in her nephew's direction, she said, "Packing for Draki-Draco, are we? Very well, don't you dare let anything get wrinkled! We wouldn't Marge to see a Draco at less than his best!"
Harry rolled his eyes. Draco, at his less-than-best? Well, to do that, they'd need to turn him into a ferret again and bounce him all over Aunt Marge's large home.....
Something of his thoughts must have lingered on his glazed, smiling face, for Aunt Petunia bit, "Don't smirk like that!" Feeling bolder than usual, and quite witty, she continued, "No wonder they beat you all the time at St. Brutus'! Now, Draco, come downstairs while he fixes your bag. I've got some lovely custard creams downstairs from the bakery."
Draco smirked at Harry, and with a quick, "Mend that tear in my silk shirt while you're at it, Potter," he followed Aunt Petunia out the door and downstairs.
As the door shut with a snap, Harry whispered, "Hope they don't have a Canary Cream concealed inside....or do I?"
And laughing, he continued rolling Draco's clothes carefully and tidied up the bag for the impending trip.
It was as he placed the last pair of dark wizard-made jeans in the bag and straightened up, stretching, that Harry noticed the piece of parchment folded on Draco's desk. Surreptitiously, he checked to make sure no one was coming back soon, and he whisked the parchment into his had and opened it.
Immediately he saw it was a letter to Snape - so Draco was corresponding with him after all. But that wasn't what caught Harry's mind.
No. It was the fact that Draco referred to Harry by his first name in a letter to Snape (of all people), how Draco defended Harry, how Draco seemed.....concerned about him, if Draco Malfoy could truly feel concern for another human being.
Had Malfoy changed slightly? No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. But then.....just last night, hadn't Draco said....
"Fine, we will skip the apologies!" Draco's voice echoed.
Draco was going to apologize? That didn't sound like him at all. Not like the evil git Harry had known for four years.
But Harry was saved further ponderings on the subject as the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs told him that someone, if not Draco himself, was coming. As fast as he could, he positioned the letter back as he remembered it having been, having learned that sort of discretion in Second Year in Filch's office.
Sure enough, the door opened, and it was a trifle twitchy Draco who stood framed on the threshold. He was breathing deeply through his nostrils, but not loud enough to cover up the sound of the door being closed slightly harder than usual.
"Potter," he said in a vain attempt at a casual air, "how...how in Merlin's name do you put up with them? They're nightmares from the deepest abyss of Hell! The stuff as much food down my throat as possible, they hug and drool all over me, and NOW they're telling me that this Marge is-" Here he uncannily imitated Aunt Petunia's sugary voice, "-she's such a delightful woman, Draco, and you'll be so glad you had the chance to meet her!!"
With a noise of disgust and massaging his left temple, the distressed Slytherin walked over to the bed and collapsed onto it.
Harry shook his head, and although he wanted to laugh, he couldn't bring himself to do so when both he and Draco were actually getting along for a change.
Draco piped up again. "Why did you inflate her in the first place, Harry?"
Allowing himself a grim smile, though his green eyes were flashing angrily at the memory, Harry said quietly, "I'm warning you now: she knows nothing of our world, Draco. She....she started poking fun at my parents, saying they were drunk, good-for-nothing layabouts, and that I was nothing more than a bastard child...."
Looking absolutely repulsed, as if he could just see Aunt Marge, Draco spat, "You're practically Pureblooded, Potter, and you still tolerate these pathetic excuses of Muggles? How can you be so accepting of them? I told you, Potter," he said with a softened expression, "They'll be the first to go once Voldemort conquers all. Don't get attached to people like the Weasleys or Granger - at the rate things are going, you're only going to lose them in the end." His voice was dripping with bitterness.
Harry opened his mouth, but no noise came out. Draco looked at him carefully, mirroring Harry's previous grim smile before continuing wearily.
"As much as I've hated you for it...yes, I admit it, Potter," he said dangerously, as if daring Harry to relay this to anyone, "You're important, special, whatever you want to call it. Even if you and I both loathe stating that fact, someone needs to be this war's poster boy. But remember, Potter, I tried to save you, back in the beginning. I offered you friendship, I offered you protection from pain. Those Mudbloods and Muggle- lovers that you chose over me - they'll die, Potter, once Voldemort takes over. And you'll be left alone with me in the end, as you were meant to be."
Eyes glued to Draco's face, Harry whispered slowly, "Why are you telling me this now? What am I supposed to do if you die as well, Malfoy? Where will I be then?"
Brow furrowed in confusion as to how their relaxed moment had led to this seriousness, Harry said, "You claim to judge life based on its purity of blood, but look at Voldemort - I'm more of a Pureblood than he is, and look at all the things he's done, all the havoc he's wreaked! And you!! You pride yourself on being an elite Pureblood, yet you denied the Dark Mark and your prodigious acquaintance with Dark Arts. How different are you from Ron and Hermione?"
Draco flinched at both names, but remained silent.
"Even though you don't want to hear it, it's like Dumbledore said." As he spoke, Harry also recalled Mrs. Figg's words. "As long as we stand together against Voldemort, we have a chance. I'm not asking you to fight for the Muggles and Muggle-borns. Fight for yourself, Draco, if you want to protect what your so-called pure blood stands for. And just.....stay with me, please." Harry bit his bottom lip at having betrayed such weaknesses in front of Malfoy.
There was a ringing silence before Draco said, "You need me that much, Potter?" He smirked a little, and whispered, "Well, you said that there's no need for promises, but....all right, I swear I won't hex your little Muggle Marge as long as she doesn't try to kiss me. I've got a nice phial of Bubotuber pus in my potion kit that she'd enjoy."
Harry smiled, relieved that the tension hadn't resulted in another fight between them.
Even though he'd been doing it on and off for three weeks, it finally felt normal to smile at Draco Malfoy, after four long years of scowls.
Yes, things were definitely looking up.
**
Saturday morning found Petunia Dursley humming quietly to herself as she finished tidying up the already immaculate kitchen, getting all prepared for her short excursion into the countryside.
Picking up the empty milk bottles from the counter, she sauntered out into the hall and proceeded down the foyer. Clutching the bottles in one hand, she pulled open the door, and breathed in the fresh air joyfully.
"Nyao!!"
Petunia shrieked in surprise and alarm as two of the bottles slipped from her grasp and shattered on the doorstep.
"Nyao!!"
Staring down in shock at the brown-and-white cat, who likewise was staring up at her, Aunt Petunia took in great gasping breaths, beginning to overcome her momentary fear. The cat simply blinked benignly up at her and grinned with another "Nyao!"
Stooping to gather the shards of glass off the steps, Petunia noticed the gleaming nametag hanging off the cat's light blue collar: Tibbles.
Mrs. Figg had been true to her word.
The cat meowed more urgently, standing up while arching its back, and it made a movement as if to rub up against Petunia's leg. She back away convulsively, loathe to be touched by an animal, but as she did so, she noticed a piece of paper, rolled up and taped together, bearing the words "For Hari-chan". It was wedged under the cat's collar.
Screwing up her minute courage, Aunt Petunia leant forward and, as quickly as she could, ripped the letter from the cat. She stared at it, quite bewildered, while the cat let out another yowl and began to purr, as though pleased with itself.
Curious at the appearance of such a strange thing - why would Mrs. Figg want to write to Harry? - she began to finger the tape binding the roll. What was it for? Gently, she began to prise the tape up, but.....
"Aunt Petunia?"
Petunia shrieked for the second time and dropped the last milk bottle as a hand came to rest on her shoulder, but it was quickly withdrawn when Harry realized how much he'd startled his aunt.
"So-sorry!" he stuttered, and before she could reprimand him, Harry raced to the cupboard under the stairs to fetch a broom and a dustpan. Returning shortly with both items, he sank apologetically to the floor and began to sweep up the mess. Aunt Petunia was looking daggers at him, and so to spite him, she ripped open the letter.
~To The Sweetest Little Hari-chan
We're going to buy lots of clothes to play dress-up with, so bring whatever money you have.
Cuddles, Mrs. Figgy~
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Mrs. Dursley snapped, "The Figg woman's a raving lunatic! 'Bring whatever money you have, Harry', indeed! 'We're playing dress-up'! How absolutely ridiculous!"
Harry glanced up, perplexed. Mrs. Figg wanted him to bring money as well? What was she planning? For he knew that Mrs. Figg's feigned madness was only a ploy to confuse the likes of nosy Aunt Petunia, who would undoubtedly have read the note.
However, and much to his surprise, Aunt Petunia snorted, but moved into the kitchen. Harry heard a zipper being undone, coins rattling, and as he remained crouched over the broken glass, Aunt Petunia returned to him, shoving a pound into his hand.
"Don't expect more. I see no point in wasting money on new clothes for you. Now hurry up with that, and get your bag down here. The cat is waiting." She shot a pointed look at the cat, which was now cleaning itself on her front step.
Harry brushed the last few shards into the dustpan and marched to the kitchen to dump the lot. Placing the broom back in the cupboard, he eagerly hurled himself upstairs and into his room where Draco was waiting, pacing.
The blonde looked up as soon as Harry burst into the room. "What did the banshee shriek about? Knows how to make someone panic, doesn't she?"
Smirking, Harry explained about the cat and the note. Draco's eyebrows were raised. "She wants you to bring money? Probably taking you out." He paused, and glanced at Hedwig's cage, where the snowy owl was sleeping quietly. "Listen, can you let me borrow Hedwig tonight? There's a message I want to send."
Pretending to look politely puzzled, but unconcerned, Harry nodded, and the Slytherin slipped out of the room. Draco must've been talking about the letter to Snape.
He returned quickly, indeed clutching the piece of parchment Harry had read yesterday. Acting as if he wasn't interested, Harry prodded a disgruntled, sleepy Hedwig awake, and within a few moments had tied the note to her leg.
Both boys watching the owl soar out of sight into the morning sky, but soon turned to say their brief farewells.
"Be careful, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "If you do any magic on Aunt Marge, we're both screwed." Despite the seriousness of the situation, the two smiled at each other.
"You better not have too much fun yourself, Potter," Draco muttered darkly.
And before Harry could answer, the taller boy leant down and pressed his lips to Harry's.
Surprised, yet nonetheless intrigued by the moment, Harry trailed a hand up Draco's side, and was rewarded by a shiver from the other boy. He felt Draco smile once against his mouth before the Slytherin's tongue pried Harry's lips open aggressively. Willingly succumbing to their new attraction, the two stood, reveling in all the places that their bodies touched, and Draco shuddered more convulsively as he felt Harry's hand stroke his face, run lightly up and down his forearm....
Slowly, Draco moved his mouth down Harry's jaw line, placing delicate nips all the way to the raven-haired boy's neck. Finding a sensitive place, he carefully sucked, and finally bit down, almost melting as Harry sank into him with the sensation of painful pleasure. And then...
"HARRY POTTER!! IF YOU'RE NOT DOWN HERE IN THIRTY SECONDS-"
They broke apart reluctantly, and stared at each other, both flushed pink. Draco ended the tense silence by saying, "She really knows how to ruin good moments, doesn't she? Maybe I'll jinx her instead of the other one...."
Harry laughed, kissed Draco lightly one last time, and then scooped up the duffle bag containing his Firebolt, wand, and clothes. At the doorway, he paused, and ran to his trunk. Ripping open the lid, he grabbed his jangling moneybag and shoved it in the duffle.
As he reached the doorway for the second time, he stopped once again, turned, and smiled at Draco, his emerald eyes glimmering.
"See you in a bit, then, Malfoy. Do try to stay in one piece, for me, at least."
Draco nodded in agreement, but a satisfied smirk lingered on his lips. "The feeling's mutual, Potter."
**
The quick trip to Mrs. Figg's was uneventful, though Aunt Petunia's glowering face as she shoved Harry out the door was not a good omen to begin a promising weekend.
Feeling utterly lighthearted in a way that he hadn't felt since before the Third Task, Harry knocked on Mrs. Figg's door while Tibbles went around the back into the garden, he assumed.
It wasn't long before he was ushered into Arabella's home, right onto her lace-covered couch. Leaving his bag by the door, Harry relaxed into the comfort that could only be attained by being in a house where one was quite welcome.
When Mrs. Figg returned from the kitchen bearing a tray of pumpkin juice and cauldron cakes, she said sternly, "I've got something to discuss with you, Mr. Potter."
She was looking incredibly grave, but Harry had a feeling he knew what this was about. "Does everyone know about my little run-in with the Ministry?"
Shooting him a penetrating glare, Mrs. Figg said, "Fudge and Peasegood know, so I wouldn't be surprised if a number of Ministry officials know. But Dumbledore found out, and he told me. Dobby did it, did you say? I don't believe a word of that, Harry."
Sighing, Harry looked away and said, "I did a Memory Charm on Aunt Petunia. She....she caught Draco and I together, and....well, really, if she saw us together, it wouldn't take long for her to put two and two together and realize that Malfoy's not a respectable Muggle, like she thinks he is."
"Together?" Mrs. Figg barked sharply. "What do you mean by that?"
Blushing deeply, Harry stuttered, "Well, we...um, you see...er-"
Raising both of her eyebrows, Mrs. Figg said, "Very well." His blush had told her everything that his 'ers' hadn't. "But you might want to wear a high cloak today in Diagon Alley. I'm sure your friends Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger wouldn't want to see that little red mark on your neck."
Harry stared at Mrs. Figg, who smiled brightly. He regained composure momentarily, and whispered, "We're going to Diagon Alley? Ron....and Hermione are going to be there? How-"
Grinning in way that said she was very pleased with herself, Arabella chimed, "Oh, as soon as your aunt called me and asked me to take you, I contacted Dumbledore. He sent me Hogwarts letters for both you and Draco, and I owled the Weasleys. We all agreed to meet there in the Leaky Cauldron today. You have your money on you, right? You got the letter from Tibbles?"
Beginning to grin himself, Harry said, "Yeah, it's all in my bag! But....what about Draco? How's he getting his stuff?"
"Well," said Mrs. Figg slowly, "It's no good to have him out in the open in Diagon Alley, and since we can't get money out of his own vault, Severus Snape offered to pay for him. I'll buy his things while you walk around with your friends."
Sheepishly, Harry said, "I, um, don't have a cloak on me. How am I supposed to hide this?" He was deeply embarrassed as he pointed at the bite on his neck.
Chortling, Arabella answered, I've got some Muggle makeup concealer. That's about the best I can offer you, though I must say, the thing would be a talking point if you just left it like that."
Harry paled. "No way!"
**
Within half an hour, and after much of Harry's mixed outrage at Draco having marked him and his embarrassment at having to where makeup, the odd couple had helped themselves to Floo Powder (after Harry removed his glasses) and were off.
The Leaky Cauldron was as dim and old-fashioned as ever, but brimming with some of the most interesting figures that were so characteristic of the wizarding world.
Tom, polishing the wood counter of the bar, looked up curiously as Harry and Mrs. Figg came tumbling out of the gigantic fireplace, but smiled toothlessly at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived and waved enthusiastically. Harry waved back at him, and, looking down, began wiping the soot off his Muggle clothes. Mrs. Figg did the same next to him.
Harry hadn't gotten far at all when two blurs bellowing his name hit him with such force and momentum that the Golden Trio landed in a heap on the sooty hearth of the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace. Buried under the tangle of arms and legs that was Ron, and feeling that Hermione was liable to choke him with her arms gripped around his neck, Harry glanced up and saw the blurred red hair that could only be the Weasley family beaming down at him.
"Now, Ron, be careful, or you'll suffocate poor Harry!!" Mrs. Weasley chided her youngest son, though her voice remained buoyant, and her dimples stood out quite clearly, as far as Harry could tell in the candlelight without his glasses.
It was the twins who thankfully came to Harry's rescue, forcibly lifting their brother and Hermione off their best friend. Hermione was the main problem - her hands were so tightly wound around Harry's neck that Harry was personally sure she would be permanently attached to his body. Fred manage to prise her off in the end, and bodily dragged her over a few feet away to where George was restraining the much taller Ron.
With Mrs. Figg's arm under his elbow, Harry gingerly resumed a standing position, wincing as he felt the pain in his back muscles where the flagged stones of the hearth had dug in.
"Hello to you, too," he joked.
Once he was on his feet, the smirking twins released their captives, and Harry soon found himself surrounded by his two dearest, yet currently inquisitive, companions; this time, they were much more wary of knocking him over, luckily.
"Sorry 'bout that, mate," Ron said apologetically, but as he looked down at Harry, he couldn't remove his addictive goofy grin from his features.
Hermione, bouncing up and down on the balls her feet, wasn't about to let Ron keep Harry all to himself. In fact, Harry had rarely seen Hermione's excitement reach such a pitch, even during the months when she spent her days rattling around with her box of S.P.E.W. badges.
"Oh, Harry," she began breathlessly, "You look so good!! Oh, I'm so glad you're safe and OK!!"
She made as if to capture him in another collarbone-fracturing embrace, but Harry, quite apart from not wanting to be strangled again, had caught a flicker of a scowl on Ron's face at Hermione's antics, and so he backed up, throwing up his arms in self-defense.
Laughing, he said, "It's just me, Mione! I told you, what, two days ago that I was fine, and things haven't changed!"
Hermione looked skeptical. Was it possible that even the Weasleys knew about his run-in with Fudge?
Biting back his worry, he said cajolingly, "Look, Ron's not altogether flipped, so calm down, Mione! Just me...."
"What he means," Fred started, speaking for the first time, "Is that he's fine so long as you two back up, let him breathe, and-"
"Let us say hello first!!" George finished pompously.
Without further ado, the twins pushed roughly past Ron and Hermione, and within moments had dropped to their knees, prostrating themselves on the ground before Harry.
Not even the tiniest trace of a smirk visible on either identical freckled face, Fred and George began bowing up and down, booming out praise for Harry in earshot of the entire pub.
"All hail the mightiest Seeker!"
"All hail the new joke shop guinea pig leader!"
"All hail the -"
"Boys, that is quite ENOUGH!!" Mrs. Weasley gasped out, though she was quite the only one showing feelings of anger and disbelief. Even Hermione seemed relaxed about - although somewhat guilty - having enjoyed the twins' display. Ron, as usual, was laughing furiously, and his blue eyes twinkled when Harry met them.
"They've been practicing that since yesterday, Mum!" protested another voice. "After all their hard work -"
"When they could have been doing schoolwork with their N.E.W.T.S coming up, Ginny? No, that's absolutely unacceptable! I may have agreed to the joke shop, but this!!"
Harry looked past Ron and Mrs. Weasley, and saw the youngest Weasley standing slightly apart from her family, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping irritably.
Ginny's appearance came as something of a shock to Harry. He remembered Ginny, his best friend's little sister, as being small, quiet, reserved. But now, his widened eyes took in her shorter hair, cut up past chin level, her long red tresses gone. She seemed to be taller, though as she obviously couldn't have grown that much in three weeks, Harry realized he must have missed it in the excitement of the last term. She was wearing grey robes, but they were open in front, revealing a low-necked shirt that absolutely accentuated her curves.
But the most surprising thing was that, when he locked eyes with the speechless Harry, she smiled genuinely at him. Without the shy deep-red blush Harry was so accustomed to.
However, he had hardly noticed this new girl of fourteen before Ron had grabbed his by the arm and was steering him over to the back door, which would take the group out into the courtyard separating the inn from Diagon Alley.
"Yeah, that's Ginny," Ron whispered in his ear. "Percy, Charlie, and I aren't too happy about it, but Bill and the twins say she's old enough to, uh, express herself. She's got her eyes only on you though, mate, so I'm not too worried."
Hermione, not having heard any of the exchange, queried, "You have your Hogwarts letter, don't you, Harry?" She was almost sounding like her normal bossy self.
"Hang on," Harry replied, "Mrs. Figg has it." He doubled back through the gaggle of Weasleys to where Arabella was conversing with a still glowering Molly, Ginny hovering aloofly next to them. Harry caught a little of what they were saying.
"Anything you need to get here today? I'm sure the children can take care of themselves, so why don't we stick together?"
"Oh, I just have a few items to pick up, doing Dumbledore a favor," Mrs. Figg said confidingly. "A poor Muggleborn student broke his leg a few days ago, and as he's in no condition to come and get his school things himself, Dumbledore asked if I could do it. Well, I know what it's like to be bedridden like that-" Mrs. Weasley clucked sympathetically "-So I couldn't refuse."
Arabella pulled out the two Hogwarts letters and waved them.
Harry stepped forward and asked, "Can I have mine? We'll go faster if we split up, and Ron and Mione-" He jerked his thumb suggestively back at his friends, who were waiting by the now-open archway.
Fond smiles emanating from both motherly faces, Harry found himself being presented with a folded parchment letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. The envelope had no name, and Harry supposed Dumbledore must have sneaked the two out of McGonagall's stock and sent them to Mrs. Figg himself, in order to save odd questions should the envelope's surname "Malfoy" be noticed by the Weasleys.
Taking it with a word of thanks, Harry turned and bounded joyfully back to his smiling friends.
"I'm telling you now, if I find out any of you went down Knockturn Alley...." Mrs. Weasley threatened, and Harry, who besides having no wish to check out the Dark Arts street, knew Molly was dead serious.
**
Sitting outside Florean Fortiscue's was indeed comfortable, the shade under the large umbrellas shielding them from the sun most welcome. The three were conversing quietly, large bags filled with their shopping propped up against their chairs.
"So.....your mum is going through with the joke shop idea the twins have?" Harry was quite pleased that his money was indeed being used for the purpose he had hoped for.
Hermione looked stern, and bit, "You have no idea, Harry. Living with them is a nightmare! I've been at the Burrow for all of three days, and Fred and George are having the time of their lives pulling pranks on someone not as familiar with their tricks as the rest of the family. They dyed my hair bright green yesterday by feeding me a hexed apple!"
Ron injected happily, "Oh yeah, those are the Aesthetic Adornment Apples! Change your hair to match the color of the apple, Ginny came up with the name." Hermione glared at Ron.
"Did you take pictures?" Harry asked urgently, grinning evilly at Hermione.
"No, the girl sprinted upstairs and shut herself in her and Ginny's room and went through every book in her trunk until she found a spell to undo it. Mione really didn't need to waste all that time reading though," Ron said, chuckling, "'Cause it wears off after twenty-four hours anyway. You could have seen her yourself if she hadn't figured out how to take it off."
Hermione, not at all pleased with the direction in which their conversation was heading, immediately changed the subject. "How's this....girlfriend....of yours doing, Harry?"
Flushing slightly, Harry applied himself to his melting banana icecream, yet said quietly, "I don't know what you're talking about, Hermione Granger."
"Oh, is that so?" she said scathingly. "Then how did you get that little mark on your neck? I've been meaning to ask you since we were in Flourish and Blotts, but you and Ron were having such fun with the wizard coloring book display that it skipped my mind."
Clapping a hand to his neck over the spot just below his left ear, Harry stared wildly from a smug Hermione to a Ron trying to crane his head to see the mark. Of course! When Hermione had grabbed him around his neck, she must have wiped the concealer off....
"This Moemi isn't just a garden snake, is she, Harry?"
"Maybe not, Bubbles," Harry admitted, though with a hint of nastiness in his voice that just screamed, 'Ask me one more question, and I spit poison!"
"Oh, leave him alone, Mione!" Ron came to his aid, but with a touch of jealous impatience towards Harry. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, wait till he does. It's not like he's fooling around with a Slytherin or something."
Harry blanched, but Hermione and Ron took it as his reaction to the thought of being near enough to a Slytherin to fool around with.
Jokingly, Ron said to Harry, "Like the Asians, do you?"
Feigning indifference, Harry said, "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Weasley.....and while we're on the subject of relationships, when are you going to take a look at Her-"
But he was cut off as a pair of hands suddenly covered his eyes, and sightless, he let out a startled exclamation.
"Guess who, Harry! Can you guess who I am?"
"Geroff, Colin! You bloody scared him!" came Ron's voice impatiently.
"Not until he guesses who I am!"
Harry spoke up, trying to see through the fingers wrapped around his eyes. "Um, hi, Colin....having a nice summer, I expect?"
Colin let go of Harry's face and said disappointedly, "He got me on the first try....."
Shooting Ron a look nothing short of immense exasperation, Harry said, "Keep trying, Colin, I'm sure you'll fool me one day. Um, here buying your school stuff, I guess?"
"Of course! Dennis and Emma are in Ollivander's trying out wands - my little sister Emma's starting, too!! My dad's so excited, naturally! Just hope she's in Gryffindor, right?"
Hermione directed pointedly suppressing looks at Ron and Harry, and asked cautiously, "Just exactly how many siblings do you have, Colin?"
The entire Golden Trio crossed their fingers under the table.
"Well, it's just the three of us, really. I wish I had loads of siblings like you, Ron!" Colin ended enthusiastically. "That must be so much fun, with everyone being magical."
"Anytime you feel like having green hair for a day or being lectured on cauldron bottoms....." Ron trailed off.
"Or having your teddy bear turned into a giant spider," Hermione reminded Ron, giggling.
"Or having your pet Puffskein used for Bludger practice," said Harry, fighting a battle between amusement and pity.
"You can take my place, Colin," Ron finished dramatically.
Colin's eyes shone with unsurpassable excitement. "Really? You mean it? I can come?"
Watching Ron roll his eyes, Harry just gave silent thanks that they'd forgotten about Draco's little token of affection.
Colin ambled off shortly to find his siblings, promising to introduce Emma as soon as possible (Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to introduce her to Harry or to the scar), his face glowing with the prospect of trading places with Ron.
"What's the betting," Ron whispered across the table, "That he owls me tomorrow asking to come to the Burrow?"
"Better you and Hermione than me and D-" Harry cut off sharply at his mistake, but not quickly enough.
"'D'? Harry, it's 'D'?" Nope, Hermione hadn't forgotten, and judging by his sniggers, Ron hadn't either.
"No," a very red Harry bit, "'D' equals 'Dudley'. Are you suggesting-"
"Urgh, no way, Harry, OK, we get the point!!" Ron was obviously not too keen to discuss that particular subject.
Hermione laughed, but her eyes remained shrewd. She began gathering up her bags, and the boys, one disgruntled, one flushed, did the same.
They had barely gone two steps from Florean Fortescue's when a most unwelcome sight hit theirs eyes.
Crabbe and Goyle were shuffling stupidly up the crowded alleyway, the two of them together cutting a swathe nearly as wide as Hagrid.
"Oh, look mates, it's the chickens, but where's their head?" Ron said loudly, but Harry backed up.
Although he wished he could have told Ron to be quiet and not to draw attention to themselves, although he wished to scream to the entire street that there were two mini-Death Eaters in broad daylight, he couldn't convey this to either Ron or Hermione without arousing suspicion. He settled for the 'pretend to be disgusted and don't waste your time' ploy.
"Ron, leave them, let's just-"
But it was too late. Crabbe and Goyle had spotted the Trio, and with a dimmed maliciousness, they began to head towards Fortescue's where Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood standing, stopping only feet from them.
Ron, feeling very bold and liking his present upper-hand in the situation, continued, "So you're out without that little piece of scum, Malfoy, today, are you? Finally realized you could think for yourselves, have you?"
But they ignored Ron. Grinning evilly, Crabbe asked petulantly, "Seen Malfoy lately, Potty?"
However, he'd obviously said something wrong, because Goyle elbowed him and said, "We don't know, right? Remember?"
"Don't know what?" Hermione said, half-curious, half-impatient.
"Where Malfoy is!" Crabbe said proudly, having answered a question correctly for once in his life. He was staring pointedly in Harry's direction.
Hermione shot a quick, quizzical look at Harry, but his face was as impassive as a rock. Indeed, his jaw was so tightly shut that she was surprised when he managed to open it and say to his friends, "Come on, leave them to their shopping."
And without another word, he turned away, marching in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. Ron and Hermione followed, though both looked worried.
Crabbe and Goyle just stood and sniggered after them, but soon disappeared in the crowd.
**
Harry remained rather quiet for the rest of the afternoon, preferring to let Hermione and Ron do all the talking. He was rather unaware of the strain on his friends, as both of them fought the urge to ask him what was really going on. The red mark on Harry's neck, the few strange words Crabbe and Goyle had managed to say, and about all the stress that Harry still probably carrying from the night of the Third Task...
It was an extremely subdued Golden Trio that said their farewells that evening in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Come and stay if you can, Harry," Ron urged. "I promise," he said with an evil glance in the twins' direction, "That I'll make sure they don't feed you anything.....unnatural."
"Couldn't have done the same for me, could you?" said Hermione snappishly, but it was with a much softer expression that she turned to Harry.
"Take care of yourself, Harry. Ron's right, we're both close by if you need us. Just relax, do some schoolwork....."
"Ah, the wise words of Dr. Granger - do schoolwork, and all your problems will disappear in a cloud of runes and Arithmancy numbers and potion ingredients," Ron laughed.
Harry cracked a small smile at that, and both of his friends noticed. Maybe there was hope after all.
**
Mrs. Figg dropped a number of parcels into Harry's lap as he sat on her couch watching TV that evening with a preoccupied air.
"There you go, pack those in your bag - Mr. Malfoy's things. I hope you have enough room in there with that broomstick of yours in there."
She watched him stand wearily, marching over to his bag and dropping the contents inside messily, as if he hardly noticed what he was doing.
Frowning, she said quietly, "What's wrong, Harry? You've been quiet all afternoon."
Turning slowly, Harry scrutinized Mrs. Figg carefully, as though noticing her for the first time that night. But his gaze was not held much longer. Dropping his eyes to the ground, he said in a rush, "I....I think the Death Eaters found out about where Draco is."
Eyes open in alarm, Arabella said, "How can you be sure? Harry, this is serious! What do you know?"
Starting to feel flutters of panic, Harry explained about what Crabbe and Goyle had said - or not said.
One hand over her mouth, Mrs. Figg said shortly, "I have to owl Dumbledore about this immediately. Harry, let me take you upstairs to your room, and try to get some sleep."
Harry nodded wearily. He'd worry about the Death Eaters and Draco tomorrow.
Or at least, that's what he thought he'd do, but the sudden exploding, blinding pain his scar as he took the first two steps towards the staircase put an end to that argument.
~~
Reviews are appreciated, and much thanks is given in return!!
"Hari-" is just how you say and spell "Harry" in Japanese. "Chan" is an affectionate ending usually used on children and girls. "Hari-chan" is actually what one of my friends, who adores him, calls Harry.