Chapter Three
The Giant Mystery
Draco could not contain his good spirits. His summer had taken a sudden u turn and he was feeling good. His Mother was suspicious of something, she kept asking him questions and every time she did he would ask a question back, always the same one, "Who were you talking to the other day in the kitchen?" This always shut her up fast. She would purse her lips, squint her eyes, tilt her head to one side, scowl, and then storm off. Draco had been rather enjoying it lately, but he sensed that she was growing tired of his game and would soon begin to force details out of him.
Draco's routine had change somewhat as well. He was now forced awake at eleven, he entertained for his Mother's friends until noon, at which time they ate and his Mother sent him out on an errand. Most of the times the errands were tedious and menial, something that any servant could have done. She sent him out for potion ingredients, for clothes, for parchment, she even sent him out for food once. Of course he knew why she was doing it, and he really didn't mind. He would rather be out of the Manor doing a meaningless job than sitting in her parlor putting on a cold smile for her guests.
And so it was that he was in Diagon Alley today fetching a box of vanishing ink. His mother had given him ten galleons and told him not to come back for at least two hours. The vanishing ink was quite easy to find, Floorish and Blotts had a wide selection, and for only 5 galleons as well.
He used an hour and three of the galleons to roam around Diagon Alley. He shrunk the crate of ink while no one was looking and tucked it into his pockets He had learned early on that in places where a lot of magic was used, the Ministry could never hope to distinguish who was suppose to be using magic and who wasn't.
He purchased a pumpkin ice cream and ate in silence at the very rear of the shop. His face was cast in shadows as he slowly licked around the edge of the cone and watched the wizards passing by. A month had already gone by since school ended, letters had no doubt been delivered already to some of the first years. He could see parents dragging around very scared looking children. They looked so small, Draco could never remember himself being that small, or that helpless. No, he had never been that helpless, he had always been willing to stand up for himself and what he believed in. What he believed in, what did he believe in, Draco thought? And of course he was lying to himself if he said he had stood up for himself against everyone, there were two people he had never stood up to, his Father being one and his Mother being the other. He had never really stood up for what he believed in either, he had stood up for what his Father had told him to believe in, but he was now beginning to question there validity.
He finished his ice cream cone and wandered back through the streets until he came to Gringott's Bank, his family had one of the biggest vaults there and because of that they allowed them to use their floo network. Draco preferred to use this one because it was more private and secluded. When he was the focus of everyone's attention he enjoyed the sensation, but when he didn't want to be noticed he hated people's wandering eyes. They stared at his blond hair and his eyes, and then they envied his lavish clothes. They knew he was a Malfoy and they hated him for that without even knowing him.
The chimneys stopped spinning and came to a stop, he un-shrunk the crate of ink and carried it into the sitting room where he had left his Mother. He was one corner away when he stopped, something wasn't right. He set the ink down onto a side table and crept forward. He had only been gone an hour and a half, but he had nothing else to do when he came home. He door to the room was open a crack and Draco could hear voices coming from inside. He heard two voices, his Mother's and someone else's. They were trying to keep their voices low, but his Mother was too angry, "What do you mean you lost them?" She hissed in between clenched teeth. There was a paused before the man spoke and Draco knew he had swallowed a lump in his throat, his Mother was very intimidating when she was mad.
"We-well you see M-madame Malfoy, we had them on the-the run and then-then something unexpected happened, Dumbledore showed up and he had a half blood with him. There was-was no way we c-could pursue." His mother was thinking over this information, "What do you mean, Dumbledore showed up?" This time Draco could hear the man swallow, "We were chasing them through the B-black Forest and we came out onto this t-town and sitting on the patio at the first house was D-dumbledore. We had n-no choice but to d-d-disapparte."
There was a long pause now and it was very uncomfortable for Draco, he held his breath. Finally his Mother spoke, in a very quiet voice, "I will have to pass this on, there is nothing I can do for your situation." The man didn't seem to like this, but he didn't say anything and was going to leave.
Which meant at any moment his Mother and possibly whoever this man was, were going to come waltzing through the door he was perched at and discover him. He turned hastily and tried to run silently back to where he had left the crate of ink, but his robe had caught on the edge of a side table and overturned a vase. It crashed to the ground and shattered. "What was that?!" He could hear two sets of feet running now in his direction. He summoned the crate and set it down lopsidedly onto the floor near the broken vase. He threw himself down next to it and began to scoop up the bits and pieces of what was once a family heirloom.
Two shadows appeared over him, "What are you doing down there Draco Malfoy?" It was his Mother's voice, and is very cold, and very angry.
He looked up from the floor and held up a few of the pieces, "The crate of ink you asked for was too heavy and I overturned the vase." He tried to sound innocent, which was very difficult for him considering he was never innocent of anything. His Mother seemed to be seriously pondering what he had just said, the other man seemed unconvinced though. He stared at him, he wore a similar cloak to the two men who had visited the other day, except this one seemed cleaner, and no mask was visible, but Draco was sure he was a Death Eater also.
Finally his Mother came to a decision, "Well, you'll be punished for this later. For the moment clean up what you've broken and I don't want to see you out of your room until tomorrow." She turned so sharply around that her cloak snapped in the air and she stormed off towards the where she had just come from. The man with her cast Draco a final stare and then followed after her.
When they were gone Draco breathed a long sigh of relief. He straightened up and waved his wand once to clear the remaining pieces away. He put the crate of ink onto the table where the vase had been and then Draco stormed off to his room. What the hell was going on in his house, he thought? Strangers were in his fireplace talking with his Mother, Death Eaters were in his sitting room chatting with his Mother, Death Eaters were in the living room cowering from his Mother. Every question Draco had involved his Mother and every answer he could think of involved his Father and the Master he served.
He closed the door to his room and sat down at his desk. His Mother had forgotten to ask for her change, which he now deposited into a small velvet draw-string bag. Any money Draco had was money his parents had given him. He had saved about half of it and held close to a thousand galleons in a private vault. The goblins took out one galleon a month for fees and in exchange they had allowed him to use a different name for accounting purposes. Draco knew that if his parents were to find out he had his own vault they would pillage it the first time he stepped out of line, which was the only time he would ever need to make a withdrawal.
He turned on his record player and set a Mozart piece on repeat. He relaxed into the chair and closed his eyes as he thought. What were his parents up to? His Father was obviously off on some kind of mission for Voldemort, this was probably the case for the other three Death Eaters as well. His Mother seemed to be mixed up in all this as well, she was relaying all these messages, but in between who? Was it his Father or was it Voldemort himself? He didn't think his Mother could be involved that much to be in direct communication with the Dark Lord, perhaps his Father, but not her. All this did not explain what all the activity was about though. From what the Death Eater had said today they were obviously chasing someone, but again who? Death Eaters who had betrayed them and escaped Azkaban, Ministry officials, old allies? The list of possibilities was endless. Draco would just have to wait and see, he wasn't going to rack his brain with so little information. He turned in his chair and picked up his potions homework and flipped through the pages. He had been saving this homework for a day like today when he had nothing to do and was hopelessly bored. He took a sheet of parchment out and began to write the essay Professor Snape had assigned on permanent potions and new studies on their reversals. The topic was quite interesting to Draco but there was definitely a lack of materials for the essay. He would stop by the book store later and pick up some more books on it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco was entering the last two weeks of summer. It seemed to be flying past for Draco now that he was enjoying the time at the Quidditch pitch. His letter had been delivered from Hogwarts and he had asked his Mother if they could go to Diagon Alley. She claimed that she was too busy and that he should go without her. She had given him a handful of galleons, probably twice what he needed, and so he was now shopping in Diagon Alley, alone. He had already picked up all of his new books and supplies and was coming out of "Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasion" when he spotted his teammate. His spirits rose, he hadn't seen him since Saturdays game, they had practice of course tonight since it was Monday, but Draco had been so bored lately running errands for his Mother. His demeanor quickly fell when he saw who Potter was walking with. On his right, holding his hand, was his girlfriend Ginny, who Draco didn't mind, but she still hated him, and then her older brother and bushy head Granger. The four seemed to be deep in conversation as they walked casually down the cobblestone street. The two Weasleys and Granger burst into laughter, obviously at a joke Potter had made. It was at that moment that Potter looked to his left and saw Draco standing in the doorway, a depressed look on his face leaning against the jamb, staring into space. He stopped where he stood and stared in return at his new teammate, lost in thought. Should he approach, or wave, or just turn his head and keep on walking?
The Weasley boy standing next to him peered in the direction his best friend was starring. He spotted the white haired boy, who looked at the moment nothing like the one he knew from Hogwarts. He took a step in his rival's direction, hoping perhaps for a quick encounter, but was stopped by a strong arm across his chest, "You guys go on ahead Ron, I'll catch up with you at the Leaky Cauldron." There was no emotion in the voice that spoke and his eyes had not left Draco's face. "But Harry." Ron began to plead. Harry's head snapped to the left, "Ron, I'm old enough to make decisions on my own, now trust me."
Before anyone could say anything else Harry left the group and walked in Draco's direction. The remaining three stood welded to the ground, stunned. Finally it was Ginny who bustled them off in the direction they had been heading before.
Draco straightened up as Potter closed in, no feelings showed on his face. What was Potter doing, he thought to himself? The boy stopped a meter away, "We really killed those Queen's Guards, eh Malfoy?!" The hatred had nearly all faded from Harry's voice over the last few weeks. It had been replaced with that of a sort of care free attitude. Draco had showed Harry he was not just some worthless human being when he saved Ginny from the path of that bludger and had caught her before she was smeared across the ground. The two now worked quite well as a team, neither one trusted each other with anything larger than a broom but they didn't deal with anything large than that.
Draco tried to show his usual sneer, but it came out more like a smile, "Yes, well anyone could lick a couple of little school girls from the third year, but only Harry Potter would brag about it." Both boys shared a quiet chuckle at this, in truth they enjoyed the bickering and couldn't imagine it any other way. They both knew they would never love each other, or stop arguing, and they accepted that fact.
Harry looked up at the building that stood behind Draco, "We first met here, remember." He paused as his eyes searched over the building that hadn't changed. "That was five years ago now. Seems like it should be a long time, but it's sped by quite fast."
Draco did not turn around to look at the building, he knew all of the buildings in Diagon Alley as well as he knew his own broom. It was hard for him to think back that long ago, not because he couldn't remember but because it hurt to remember. He felt like he had been let out of his cage for the first time this summer and was allowed to fly free. Remembering things from before July caused his head to spin and he continuously questioned himself why he had done the things he had. He was stronger than his Father, he could have stood up to him before and prevented so much pain.
Draco realized Potter was staring at him, he must have zone out. "Hasn't went by fast enough for me." He bent his head down and stared at his feet. His Father had done so much to Potter, taking away his parents, matching him against Tom Riddle and the Chamber of Secrets, kidnapping him last year at the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament.
Draco wasn't completely sinless either. He had taken every opportunity to tease and torment Potter and his friends. It was true they had deserved it most of the time, but some of them had been plain wrong, and Draco could see that now. Granger had the biggest teeth he had ever seen, but what difference did it make if she was a mudblood or not. Draco was proud that he was a pure-blooded wizard, and he wouldn't give it up for anything, but that didn't make everyone else animals. And the things he had said in July to Potter while they rode the train home, they should have put him in Azkaban.
"I don't know how you can stand to look at me Potter, how you can stand to play Quidditch side by side with me?" He did not bring his face up as he said these words, he was ashamed and he didn't feel like looking at Potter. There was a long pause, an awkward gap, Draco half thought of turning and walking away before he could hear the other boys answer. It would probably be something simple, "I pretend you're someone else." Or, "It's only Quidditch, it doesn't mean we're best friends or something. Go sod off now before I blast you again!"
He was about to turn when Potter spoke, breaking the silence, and answering Draco's question. "The truth is Malfoy, you're a lot different than I had thought you were, you're probably a lot different than even you think you are. Before this summer you were just some jerk at school who thought he owned the whole castle and tried to make everyone else worthless. But I think you're only like that because of your house, it's all just one big smoke screen and you know it. You're not your Father, and I know that. Why can't you just act normal?" Potter stopped now, his words had been sincere, and Draco heard a note of concern in his voice. Was it concern that he would snap at Potter for what he had said, or concern that the new Malfoy that he had come to know as a loyal teammate would not return with them on the train to Hogwarts?
Another awkward silence was allowed to endure as Draco tried to take in everything that had been said. "You don't know half of what you think you do, Potter. If I were to act this way anywhere else my Father would kill me. If he knew we were having this conversation, or that I hadn't taken every chance to knock you off your broom while we practiced, I might not see daylight again until we went back to class, next year. Growing up, my Father would lock me in my room for months on end for things I said at his dinner parties. It wasn't until I learned to keep my mouth shut that he allowed me to attend them again. He made up illnesses for my absence from the time I was six until I was ten. If I were to do something at school, something hospitable, Crabbe or Goyle or one of my other house mates would owl my parents that very night, and before I knew what was going on I would be locked again in my room until the end of term." Draco stopped, he felt the anger begin to build up, and he didn't want to explode, not here. He looked at Potter, he was smiling. Draco didn't remember saying anything that could be considered amusing.
"You and I aren't so different Malfoy. I grew up in a cupboard, underneath the stairs. My cousin got everything he wanted, the only thing they ever gave me were his old clothes. At school I couldn't do anything because people were scared of my cousin. If they talked to me, he would punch them and so no one ever talked to me. When my Aunt and Uncle had dinner parties, I was fed a few crackers before hand and sent to the cupboard. They told people that I was criminally insane, they didn't even tell me that I was a wizard. They tore up the letters Hogwarts sent, Hagrid had to knock down the door and drag me away from them. Even now when I go back for the summers they treat me like I'm some kind of leper. This year I went back for two weeks and during that time I replanted the entire garden, repainted the house, inside and out, and was fed only one meal a day. You may have grown up in the wizarding world and I in the muggle one, you with money, and me with none, but they were the same worlds really."
Draco would never have imagined all the things Potter had just told him, not even in is wildest dreams or desires. He felt even worse now knowing that it was all his Father's fault that it was the way it was. But he felt a certain companionship with Potter now that he had never felt with anyone before. "I wouldn't stay with them. I would run away."
"You don't run away from your family. And that is what those horrible people are to me, the only family I have." He smiled, it was rare that he smiled when speaking of his cousins, and he didn't know why he was doing it now. "Look, I'm gonna go and catch up with Ginny, and I know you don't want to come, so I'll just see you tonight."
Draco nodded, "How about afterwards we go out to this restaurant I know and get a drink and a bite to eat? It will keep me away from my Mother for a little while longer."
Potter smiled, "You're on Malfoy." He turned and walked away briskly. "See you at practice!" He called over his shoulder. Draco picked up the package of robes he had set down and began the long walk back to Gringott's to go home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Practice went very well that night, they only had two left and then they had their final regular season game. They had won all of their games except for the first one and they were in good position to go to the playoff series. During the playoffs the games were held on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Each game was single elimination, if they lost one game then they were out of the playoffs. The junior cup game was held on Sunday at 6pm and was a two hour game instead of just one.
It was nine O'clock, Draco was changing out of his practice robes and waiting for Potter. He was making sure Ginny got off home safely and he was putting on some fresh clothes as well. He saw him walking across the grass wearing a pair of loose pants and an un-buttoned shirt with a white v neck on underneath. "Okay, I'm ready to head off to this restaurant."
Draco let out a small evil smile, "Well it's not really a restaurant, more like a bar or a pub." It was in fact a pub, as the name of the Black Lion Pub entailed, and it was one Draco knew served minors. "Come one, we can use the floo network. The pub's located right in between Diagon and Knockturn Alley, it's a great place, nice people."
Harry didn't look as sure of himself as he normally did. In fact he was a bit nervous about going into a pub with Malfoy, he'd never really had a drink before. There was one occasion when he had crashed one of his Uncle's New Year's Eve parties and one of the guests had offered him a glass of champagne at midnight. He hadn't liked how the bubbles went up his nose though. He followed Malfoy back through the rear portion of the pitch to what looked like a very unused hearth. Malfoy took a pinch of floo powder for himself and then offered a bit to Harry. He cast it into the flames and stepped in, "The Black Lion Pub!" The world stopped spinning and he was joined a moment later by Potter. He looked around the dimly lit, yet jovial bar. There were people laughing and singing at the bar, others off at tables were talking loudly to one another, and still more were over at one side shooting wizards darts. These darts were directed with a prod from your wand and the board moved on occasion.
Draco took a seat at an empty booth towards the rear of the table and a waitress was along a minute later to take their orders. She had long brown curly hair and was very pretty, she spoke with a French accent, "'Ow can I 'elp you, monsieurs?" There was something not quite right in the way she asked her question, there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.
Draco raised his head and smiled at the young waitress, "Hello Miranda, how are you? I'd like a glass of Dragon's Blood please." The waitress nodded, the uncertainty leaving her slowly as Draco worked his charm.
She looked now to Harry, who had no idea what kind of drinks there even were. "Um, I guess I'll have the same." She nodded courtly and left to get their drinks.
Harry leaned over the table, keeping his eyes on Miranda, "Malfoy, what did I just order?" He was very anxious and his eyes were filled with worry.
Draco let out a long laugh, "Don't worry Potter it's good. Two quarters dark rum, one quarter Bailey's, and one quarter Southern Comfort. You'll like it, trust me." He smiled again at Potter trying to reassure him. "You just have to blow out the flames, it's for show nothing else." The worry flooded back in Harry's face, and Draco laughed again.
Miranda carried the drinks back on a tray and well away from her dress. The one she gave to Draco had a bright green flame licking at the rim of the glass and Harry's had the same except it was crimson. The liquid inside the two glasses truly did look like blood in this dim light. Draco put his hand over the glass quickly, smothering the flame and took a large sip. The liquor felt warm flowing down his throat and the soreness of practice began to leave him. The warm, fire like sensation emanated in his mouth and as he drew breath through his nose he could smell the fumes of his drink from the glass. His eyes fluttered shut momentarily as he savored the taste and his new calm.
Harry was still staring at him as he opened his eyes and set his glass down onto the table. He hadn't touched his own glass yet and Draco cast his eyes from Potter to the untouched, still flaming glass. "Look Potter it's easy, you just clamp your hand real tight over the rim of the glass, this cuts off the supply of oxygen and smothers the flame, then take a small sip, it's pretty strong the first time you have it. Or you could do blow it out like my grandmother does." He watched as Potter, looking very scared and then more brave. He looked like he was trying to decide. Finally he took a deep and then clamped his hand onto the glass. The look of expectancy vanished from his face when the fire didn't burn him but instead extinguished. He raised the glass up to his lips and stopped for only an instant before he took a large sip. He swallowed and lowered the glass a little. Tears welled into his eyes, but he didn't make a sound. He let out a long breath and then brought the glass up again and finished it's contents.
He set down the glass carefully and analyzed this new sensation. It warmed his body, and gave him new courage. The aroma flooding into his nose from the alcohol content were intoxicating and he desired more.
Draco smiled, "Looks like you enjoyed that Potter, how about another round?" Draco tilted his head back and finished off the remaining liquid in his own glass to catch up with Harry. He touched his wand to both glasses and they refilled. The drinks sprang to life, ignited with fire again. Draco looked once more to Harry, "Ready?" Potter nodded. They both clamped their hands over their glasses and then brought them up and drained them. Draco's face twisted as the hot drink ran down his throat, he coughed once before setting down his glass.
Harry was leaning back in his seat, his posture severely altered since first arriving. "Do you come here and drink often? This seems likes your kind of place."
The question was ordinary enough but somehow the answer was difficult for Draco. "I came here with my Father once in second year, it was the same day that he fought your friend's Father, the red headed ones. He was meeting someone, an acquaintance he called him. The man was real shady looking guy, black cloak, blood shot eyes, hair that was sticking out at all angles. Well he was holding some kind of package for my Father, never got to see what it was, but after the exchange had been made the man offered my Father a drink. Miranda came by with three glasses of some kind of bright green alcohol, and she gave the third one to me. It burned going down that first time, but I liked it. Whenever my Father goes out of town I come here. I've stopped drinking Snake's Venom, the green drink, and found Dragon's Blood instead, much easier on the throat." Draco finished and stopped speaking. He stared over at the bar, his eyes unfocused on the wall and his thoughts consumed him. Why did he come here, was it because he liked the atmosphere, or because he liked doing things his Father wouldn't approve of, or did he like the alcohol and the way it made him feel?
He shook his head once and tapped the two glasses again. He raised the glass and huffed out the flame moments before the contents flowed over his lips. He downed the glass and set it back onto the table. His head was beginning to spin a little, but he controlled the urge to sway back and forth.
"So you're Father is out of town now then?" Harry asked sipping half of his own glass. The alcohol didn't seem to affect Harry the way it did Draco, his speech was still perfect and he sat completely still.
Draco nodded his head once, "He's been away the whole summer. He left the day I got home from Hogwarts and I haven't seen him since. Do you think I'd be able to hang out with you, or even play Quidditch with you, if he were around?" He let out a soft, forced laugh, "He can't stand you, he's even worse than I was. No idea where he is either, but there's been some strange things in the papers recently."
Harry nodded his head in agreement, he had been reading it every day since he first started staying with the Weasleys. "Seems like all the giants are scared to death of something. I saw that Hagrid was seen over there too, I have a feeling that he has something to do with all of this." Draco had no comment to this, in fact he hardly seemed to be listening. "I think you've had enough to drink, Malfoy."
Draco's eyes re-focused, and he turned them on Harry. "I was listening, just thinking at the same time. I think, I think my Father is involved somehow too." His vision blurred as he sunk back into thought and his gaze turned down to the mahogany table they were sitting at. He noticed the fine wood grain, the marks of stains, and a small carving of a snake he had cut out Christmas Eve two years ago. He brought his wand up and refilled his glass. He had spent Christmas Eve here because his parents had gone out. He had no clue where they went when they left him, and he didn't care, but to leave your only son alone on Christmas Eve just didn't seem right for the worst of families. He was about to finish off his drink when he remembered it's flame. He blew it out quickly and poured the contents into his mouth.
Potter's words interrupted his thoughts, "How can you use your wand here and not get official letters from the Ministry about the code of underage magic section, whatever?"
He smiled and shook his head, "In places where a lot of magic is performed, like Diagon Alley or Hogwarts, or where there are wards up, like Gringott's or Malfoy Manor, the Ministry can't tell who's performing the magic being done. Therefor, they don't know if you're of age or not." He put his head back, remembering, "I found that out second year when I had come home for the spring break. My Father left me out in Knockturn Alley while he was in making some sort of deal and it started to snow, so I conjured up a fire. I expected an owl any second, but none came. You should try it."
Harry looked uneasy, he was thinking about the official warning he had received from the Ministry the summer after his first year when Dobby had levitated his Aunt's pudding. "Go ahead, refill your glass." Harry took out his wand very casually. He looked around to make sure no one was watching before he touched it very softly to the edge of the glass before he pulled it away and stuffed it back into his pocket. He glass refilled quickly and a flame shot up. He smiled and blew out the flame, then quickly swallowed the drink whole.
An hour later, and another five glasses of Dragon's Blood, Draco and Harry were still sitting in their booth. They were both quite drunk, and were laughing just as hard as the rest of the men in the pub now. Miranda kept glancing over in their direction with a questioning and concerned look. They burst into laughter each time as they tried to act as if nothing were wrong.
"So after the task we were having our party up in the common room and Fred and George had mixed in some of their Canary Cremes with the rest of the desserts. Neville took one bite and turned into a giant Canary, feathers and all." Draco spit out the Dragon's Blood that he had been drinking and began to laugh. The picture of Neville as a Canary, still dress in his robes with a blank expression on his face was too much for him. He laughed until his side hurt and he nearly fell out of the booth. "Wow! Okay I think we've both had enough. When you start falling over, it's time to go home."
Draco got up from the booth. He staggered once and nearly fell over. Harry's strong hand reached out quickly and took hold of Draco's elbow to steady him. "We're going to feel horrible tomorrow, I've heard about hangovers."
Draco shook his head and muttered something that sounded very much like amateur. "Yes, well I've heard about hangovers as well, but I've never experienced one for more than a few seconds first thing in the morning." He took out a small vial the size of a small coin. It was made entirely of glass, it even had a glass stopper, and was filled with a sparkling blue liquid. He cast his wand over it and a second identical one appeared next to the original. "Take the tiniest sip of this as soon as you wake up, no matter if it's morning or not. It's an antidote I found for alcohol poisoning, which is technically what being drunk is. Here."
He handed the duplicate vial to Harry. He took it slowly, not sure what exactly to make of this gift. He held it up to the light and watched it twinkle and shine. He spoke slowly, but there was no fault in his voice, "Thanks Draco." He shifted his eyes from the vial to the blond boy who stood in front of him. Harry realized that they were the same height and that there frames were quite similar. Had Harry been fed properly growing up, he could have worn most of Draco's clothes he guessed. Draco waved his hand quickly, "Don't worry about it. Consider that reparations, I should be the one thanking you, and apologizing." The cheerfulness the sentence had started with dropped, it was replaced with sincerity and regret. Harry smiled, "Well I better get out of here Mrs. Weasley may look like a nice lady, but she's not one to cross." He left a galleon on the table, that was the price for one refillable glass of Dragon's Blood. A galleon was considered a lot to most, but to Harry it had been well spent.
Draco dropped two galleons and walked with Harry towards the hearth they had come in from. He nodded at Miranda as he passed the bar, she smiled warmly at him. Harry took a small pinch of floo powder from the pot on the mantle and pitched it into the flames. He turned around once before stepping in, "I guess I'll see you on Wednesday then. We should do this again before school starts Draco."
Draco smiled, it was a smile he had never shared with anyone before. There was happiness in it, one he hadn't felt before. "See you later." He watched as Harry stepped into the flames and was swept away. He followed a moment later once the fire had turned back to it's original state. A second went by and he was home.
The living room was dark and cold. A shiver ran through Draco as the fire vanished and he stepped onto the polished wood floor. The liquor warmed him as he took a deep breath of cold air. He walked silently through the halls to his room. There was no sign of his Mother, no doubt she had locked herself into the library already and was now deeply engrossed in one her books. Draco never had a chance to see what his Mother read but he knew from her secrecy that it was most likely dark.
He closed his door behind him and lit his lamp and a fire quickly with two flicks of his wand. The room sprang to life and he now saw his Mother sitting in the red leather armchair he kept next to the desk. She sat motionless staring at him, she didn't speak. Draco glanced quickly at the clock on the top of his clock, it read 11:30, that wasn't too late for him to be out. "Where have you been?" She finally asked, getting up out of the chair. Her voice was chilled and monotonic, her eyes pierced the dimness and cut into him.
He didn't respond for a moment, he moved towards his bed. She took a step closer to him and he stepped to the right, almost sitting on his bed. She moved to circle him, he took another step, this time in the direction of his desk. She was towering over him when he finally sunk down into his red leather chair, where his Mother had sat moments ago. "Perhaps I should ask you, why you were in my room?" He leaned back in his chair and put his feet in front of him, forcing his Mother to take a step backwards. He wore a wicked smile as he watched anger come running into his Mother's face.
She glared at him and began to speak, her voice rose as she went, "This is our house, not yours, and I can sit in whatever room I want. Now answer my question!"
Draco's smiled broadened, and he adjusted his posture to make himself more comfortable. "I went out after practice."
It didn't look like this was the answer his Mother wanted. "I can well see that, I haven't been sitting here since nine O'clock because I thought you were in the kitchen. Now where did you go and with who. And don't just say a pub with someone I already know that I can spell the alcohol from here."
"I was down at the Black Lion Pub, with, with" he paused, "With Harry Potter."
His Mother's eyes opened nearly as big as tennis balls and she took a step backwards as she sucked in a breath. The shock didn't last long and a moment later her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed together as she hissed at Draco, "With who!?" Her voice rose again and the contentment finally left Draco's face, he felt a pang of fear creep into his chest.
"I went out to get a bite to eat with Harry Potter, the person I was forced to play Quidditch with. You do remember that conversation?"
Her eyes narrowed further. She disliked the manor in which his question was presented, she disliked even the insinuation that she would forget things. When she finally spoke, she spoke slow and clearly, with the sense of finality, "I forbid you to see that Potter boy for the rest of the summer vacation except when at the Quidditch Pitch!" She turned quickly after that and stormed out of his bedroom, slamming the door as she left.
Draco let out a long sigh and slumped back into his chair. He had had the best time tonight with Potter that he had ever had with anyone, and it surprised him. He had hated, envied, detested, and generally despised Potter ever since he met him on the train to Hogwarts their first year. But now that he had come to know him a little better, he could see that they were quite similar. Neither one had had a proper childhood, neither one knew their parents, either by the fault of death or their own, neither one felt they quite fit in anywhere else except Hogwarts. And now his Mother was trying to make him stop being around him, well that wasn't going to happen.
He slipped off the clothes he'd worn to the pub and put them in the hamper with his practice robes. He stood in front of his full length mirror and he admired his form. He adjusted the chain that hung around his neck, it was a silver chain with a medallion of a Celtic cross. It had Celtic writing written around the edges, he had tried to find out what the words had meant but the library didn't have any texts on that language. The chain had been a gift from someone, Draco had found it hung on his bedpost at Hogwarts his first night in the castle.
He pulled on his silk pajama bottoms and climbed into bed, the sheets were cold against his skin. He pulled the comforter up to his chin and turned over onto his side. He lay there trying to get to sleep, and thinking. He was so confused lately, he didn't know if he actually wanted to be Harry's friend because he enjoyed his company and their time together, or because he was so desperate for a friend he would take anyone. After all, Draco had settled for Crabbe and Goyle his first year, but they had been acquaintance for a long time, seeing each other at their parents parties. At the buffet table normally, Draco thought smiling.
He rolled onto his other side, trying to find a comfortable position. He adjusted the pillow under his head. He liked being around Potter, they had had a great time tonight, he wasn't a bad drinker either. They laughed together at innocent, un-cruel, jokes, they talked, they sympathized. Draco thought that Potter might be feeling the same way, he seemed to enjoy breaking the rules, as did Draco, and he certainly had enjoyed the Dragon's Blood at the pub. Yes, Draco wanted to hang out with Potter more, maybe even at school, and he had promised they would go back to the Black Lion at least once before school went back in. They could go again on Saturday night after their Quidditch game. If they won, they would be celebrating their first trip to the play-offs together, and if they lost they would be drinking their sorrows away.
Draco took a deep breath as these thoughts drifted slowly through his mind. His eyes shuttered closed and he fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.
Down stairs Narcissa was sitting in her husband's study. She was staring into the Pensieve that Lucious had shown her how to use while he was away. She saw faded and unclear images mixing together. She saw blurred images of the Quidditch Pitch, of a big game between the Knights of Hogwarts and the Chesterfield Cannons. She saw the Potter boy and her son drinking together and laughing. She struggled to control a scream, her son and that menacing boy-who-lived, it was disgusting. She pitched the book her hand had been resting on violently against the wall.
Something had to be done.
~~~~~
The Giant Mystery
Draco could not contain his good spirits. His summer had taken a sudden u turn and he was feeling good. His Mother was suspicious of something, she kept asking him questions and every time she did he would ask a question back, always the same one, "Who were you talking to the other day in the kitchen?" This always shut her up fast. She would purse her lips, squint her eyes, tilt her head to one side, scowl, and then storm off. Draco had been rather enjoying it lately, but he sensed that she was growing tired of his game and would soon begin to force details out of him.
Draco's routine had change somewhat as well. He was now forced awake at eleven, he entertained for his Mother's friends until noon, at which time they ate and his Mother sent him out on an errand. Most of the times the errands were tedious and menial, something that any servant could have done. She sent him out for potion ingredients, for clothes, for parchment, she even sent him out for food once. Of course he knew why she was doing it, and he really didn't mind. He would rather be out of the Manor doing a meaningless job than sitting in her parlor putting on a cold smile for her guests.
And so it was that he was in Diagon Alley today fetching a box of vanishing ink. His mother had given him ten galleons and told him not to come back for at least two hours. The vanishing ink was quite easy to find, Floorish and Blotts had a wide selection, and for only 5 galleons as well.
He used an hour and three of the galleons to roam around Diagon Alley. He shrunk the crate of ink while no one was looking and tucked it into his pockets He had learned early on that in places where a lot of magic was used, the Ministry could never hope to distinguish who was suppose to be using magic and who wasn't.
He purchased a pumpkin ice cream and ate in silence at the very rear of the shop. His face was cast in shadows as he slowly licked around the edge of the cone and watched the wizards passing by. A month had already gone by since school ended, letters had no doubt been delivered already to some of the first years. He could see parents dragging around very scared looking children. They looked so small, Draco could never remember himself being that small, or that helpless. No, he had never been that helpless, he had always been willing to stand up for himself and what he believed in. What he believed in, what did he believe in, Draco thought? And of course he was lying to himself if he said he had stood up for himself against everyone, there were two people he had never stood up to, his Father being one and his Mother being the other. He had never really stood up for what he believed in either, he had stood up for what his Father had told him to believe in, but he was now beginning to question there validity.
He finished his ice cream cone and wandered back through the streets until he came to Gringott's Bank, his family had one of the biggest vaults there and because of that they allowed them to use their floo network. Draco preferred to use this one because it was more private and secluded. When he was the focus of everyone's attention he enjoyed the sensation, but when he didn't want to be noticed he hated people's wandering eyes. They stared at his blond hair and his eyes, and then they envied his lavish clothes. They knew he was a Malfoy and they hated him for that without even knowing him.
The chimneys stopped spinning and came to a stop, he un-shrunk the crate of ink and carried it into the sitting room where he had left his Mother. He was one corner away when he stopped, something wasn't right. He set the ink down onto a side table and crept forward. He had only been gone an hour and a half, but he had nothing else to do when he came home. He door to the room was open a crack and Draco could hear voices coming from inside. He heard two voices, his Mother's and someone else's. They were trying to keep their voices low, but his Mother was too angry, "What do you mean you lost them?" She hissed in between clenched teeth. There was a paused before the man spoke and Draco knew he had swallowed a lump in his throat, his Mother was very intimidating when she was mad.
"We-well you see M-madame Malfoy, we had them on the-the run and then-then something unexpected happened, Dumbledore showed up and he had a half blood with him. There was-was no way we c-could pursue." His mother was thinking over this information, "What do you mean, Dumbledore showed up?" This time Draco could hear the man swallow, "We were chasing them through the B-black Forest and we came out onto this t-town and sitting on the patio at the first house was D-dumbledore. We had n-no choice but to d-d-disapparte."
There was a long pause now and it was very uncomfortable for Draco, he held his breath. Finally his Mother spoke, in a very quiet voice, "I will have to pass this on, there is nothing I can do for your situation." The man didn't seem to like this, but he didn't say anything and was going to leave.
Which meant at any moment his Mother and possibly whoever this man was, were going to come waltzing through the door he was perched at and discover him. He turned hastily and tried to run silently back to where he had left the crate of ink, but his robe had caught on the edge of a side table and overturned a vase. It crashed to the ground and shattered. "What was that?!" He could hear two sets of feet running now in his direction. He summoned the crate and set it down lopsidedly onto the floor near the broken vase. He threw himself down next to it and began to scoop up the bits and pieces of what was once a family heirloom.
Two shadows appeared over him, "What are you doing down there Draco Malfoy?" It was his Mother's voice, and is very cold, and very angry.
He looked up from the floor and held up a few of the pieces, "The crate of ink you asked for was too heavy and I overturned the vase." He tried to sound innocent, which was very difficult for him considering he was never innocent of anything. His Mother seemed to be seriously pondering what he had just said, the other man seemed unconvinced though. He stared at him, he wore a similar cloak to the two men who had visited the other day, except this one seemed cleaner, and no mask was visible, but Draco was sure he was a Death Eater also.
Finally his Mother came to a decision, "Well, you'll be punished for this later. For the moment clean up what you've broken and I don't want to see you out of your room until tomorrow." She turned so sharply around that her cloak snapped in the air and she stormed off towards the where she had just come from. The man with her cast Draco a final stare and then followed after her.
When they were gone Draco breathed a long sigh of relief. He straightened up and waved his wand once to clear the remaining pieces away. He put the crate of ink onto the table where the vase had been and then Draco stormed off to his room. What the hell was going on in his house, he thought? Strangers were in his fireplace talking with his Mother, Death Eaters were in his sitting room chatting with his Mother, Death Eaters were in the living room cowering from his Mother. Every question Draco had involved his Mother and every answer he could think of involved his Father and the Master he served.
He closed the door to his room and sat down at his desk. His Mother had forgotten to ask for her change, which he now deposited into a small velvet draw-string bag. Any money Draco had was money his parents had given him. He had saved about half of it and held close to a thousand galleons in a private vault. The goblins took out one galleon a month for fees and in exchange they had allowed him to use a different name for accounting purposes. Draco knew that if his parents were to find out he had his own vault they would pillage it the first time he stepped out of line, which was the only time he would ever need to make a withdrawal.
He turned on his record player and set a Mozart piece on repeat. He relaxed into the chair and closed his eyes as he thought. What were his parents up to? His Father was obviously off on some kind of mission for Voldemort, this was probably the case for the other three Death Eaters as well. His Mother seemed to be mixed up in all this as well, she was relaying all these messages, but in between who? Was it his Father or was it Voldemort himself? He didn't think his Mother could be involved that much to be in direct communication with the Dark Lord, perhaps his Father, but not her. All this did not explain what all the activity was about though. From what the Death Eater had said today they were obviously chasing someone, but again who? Death Eaters who had betrayed them and escaped Azkaban, Ministry officials, old allies? The list of possibilities was endless. Draco would just have to wait and see, he wasn't going to rack his brain with so little information. He turned in his chair and picked up his potions homework and flipped through the pages. He had been saving this homework for a day like today when he had nothing to do and was hopelessly bored. He took a sheet of parchment out and began to write the essay Professor Snape had assigned on permanent potions and new studies on their reversals. The topic was quite interesting to Draco but there was definitely a lack of materials for the essay. He would stop by the book store later and pick up some more books on it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco was entering the last two weeks of summer. It seemed to be flying past for Draco now that he was enjoying the time at the Quidditch pitch. His letter had been delivered from Hogwarts and he had asked his Mother if they could go to Diagon Alley. She claimed that she was too busy and that he should go without her. She had given him a handful of galleons, probably twice what he needed, and so he was now shopping in Diagon Alley, alone. He had already picked up all of his new books and supplies and was coming out of "Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasion" when he spotted his teammate. His spirits rose, he hadn't seen him since Saturdays game, they had practice of course tonight since it was Monday, but Draco had been so bored lately running errands for his Mother. His demeanor quickly fell when he saw who Potter was walking with. On his right, holding his hand, was his girlfriend Ginny, who Draco didn't mind, but she still hated him, and then her older brother and bushy head Granger. The four seemed to be deep in conversation as they walked casually down the cobblestone street. The two Weasleys and Granger burst into laughter, obviously at a joke Potter had made. It was at that moment that Potter looked to his left and saw Draco standing in the doorway, a depressed look on his face leaning against the jamb, staring into space. He stopped where he stood and stared in return at his new teammate, lost in thought. Should he approach, or wave, or just turn his head and keep on walking?
The Weasley boy standing next to him peered in the direction his best friend was starring. He spotted the white haired boy, who looked at the moment nothing like the one he knew from Hogwarts. He took a step in his rival's direction, hoping perhaps for a quick encounter, but was stopped by a strong arm across his chest, "You guys go on ahead Ron, I'll catch up with you at the Leaky Cauldron." There was no emotion in the voice that spoke and his eyes had not left Draco's face. "But Harry." Ron began to plead. Harry's head snapped to the left, "Ron, I'm old enough to make decisions on my own, now trust me."
Before anyone could say anything else Harry left the group and walked in Draco's direction. The remaining three stood welded to the ground, stunned. Finally it was Ginny who bustled them off in the direction they had been heading before.
Draco straightened up as Potter closed in, no feelings showed on his face. What was Potter doing, he thought to himself? The boy stopped a meter away, "We really killed those Queen's Guards, eh Malfoy?!" The hatred had nearly all faded from Harry's voice over the last few weeks. It had been replaced with that of a sort of care free attitude. Draco had showed Harry he was not just some worthless human being when he saved Ginny from the path of that bludger and had caught her before she was smeared across the ground. The two now worked quite well as a team, neither one trusted each other with anything larger than a broom but they didn't deal with anything large than that.
Draco tried to show his usual sneer, but it came out more like a smile, "Yes, well anyone could lick a couple of little school girls from the third year, but only Harry Potter would brag about it." Both boys shared a quiet chuckle at this, in truth they enjoyed the bickering and couldn't imagine it any other way. They both knew they would never love each other, or stop arguing, and they accepted that fact.
Harry looked up at the building that stood behind Draco, "We first met here, remember." He paused as his eyes searched over the building that hadn't changed. "That was five years ago now. Seems like it should be a long time, but it's sped by quite fast."
Draco did not turn around to look at the building, he knew all of the buildings in Diagon Alley as well as he knew his own broom. It was hard for him to think back that long ago, not because he couldn't remember but because it hurt to remember. He felt like he had been let out of his cage for the first time this summer and was allowed to fly free. Remembering things from before July caused his head to spin and he continuously questioned himself why he had done the things he had. He was stronger than his Father, he could have stood up to him before and prevented so much pain.
Draco realized Potter was staring at him, he must have zone out. "Hasn't went by fast enough for me." He bent his head down and stared at his feet. His Father had done so much to Potter, taking away his parents, matching him against Tom Riddle and the Chamber of Secrets, kidnapping him last year at the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament.
Draco wasn't completely sinless either. He had taken every opportunity to tease and torment Potter and his friends. It was true they had deserved it most of the time, but some of them had been plain wrong, and Draco could see that now. Granger had the biggest teeth he had ever seen, but what difference did it make if she was a mudblood or not. Draco was proud that he was a pure-blooded wizard, and he wouldn't give it up for anything, but that didn't make everyone else animals. And the things he had said in July to Potter while they rode the train home, they should have put him in Azkaban.
"I don't know how you can stand to look at me Potter, how you can stand to play Quidditch side by side with me?" He did not bring his face up as he said these words, he was ashamed and he didn't feel like looking at Potter. There was a long pause, an awkward gap, Draco half thought of turning and walking away before he could hear the other boys answer. It would probably be something simple, "I pretend you're someone else." Or, "It's only Quidditch, it doesn't mean we're best friends or something. Go sod off now before I blast you again!"
He was about to turn when Potter spoke, breaking the silence, and answering Draco's question. "The truth is Malfoy, you're a lot different than I had thought you were, you're probably a lot different than even you think you are. Before this summer you were just some jerk at school who thought he owned the whole castle and tried to make everyone else worthless. But I think you're only like that because of your house, it's all just one big smoke screen and you know it. You're not your Father, and I know that. Why can't you just act normal?" Potter stopped now, his words had been sincere, and Draco heard a note of concern in his voice. Was it concern that he would snap at Potter for what he had said, or concern that the new Malfoy that he had come to know as a loyal teammate would not return with them on the train to Hogwarts?
Another awkward silence was allowed to endure as Draco tried to take in everything that had been said. "You don't know half of what you think you do, Potter. If I were to act this way anywhere else my Father would kill me. If he knew we were having this conversation, or that I hadn't taken every chance to knock you off your broom while we practiced, I might not see daylight again until we went back to class, next year. Growing up, my Father would lock me in my room for months on end for things I said at his dinner parties. It wasn't until I learned to keep my mouth shut that he allowed me to attend them again. He made up illnesses for my absence from the time I was six until I was ten. If I were to do something at school, something hospitable, Crabbe or Goyle or one of my other house mates would owl my parents that very night, and before I knew what was going on I would be locked again in my room until the end of term." Draco stopped, he felt the anger begin to build up, and he didn't want to explode, not here. He looked at Potter, he was smiling. Draco didn't remember saying anything that could be considered amusing.
"You and I aren't so different Malfoy. I grew up in a cupboard, underneath the stairs. My cousin got everything he wanted, the only thing they ever gave me were his old clothes. At school I couldn't do anything because people were scared of my cousin. If they talked to me, he would punch them and so no one ever talked to me. When my Aunt and Uncle had dinner parties, I was fed a few crackers before hand and sent to the cupboard. They told people that I was criminally insane, they didn't even tell me that I was a wizard. They tore up the letters Hogwarts sent, Hagrid had to knock down the door and drag me away from them. Even now when I go back for the summers they treat me like I'm some kind of leper. This year I went back for two weeks and during that time I replanted the entire garden, repainted the house, inside and out, and was fed only one meal a day. You may have grown up in the wizarding world and I in the muggle one, you with money, and me with none, but they were the same worlds really."
Draco would never have imagined all the things Potter had just told him, not even in is wildest dreams or desires. He felt even worse now knowing that it was all his Father's fault that it was the way it was. But he felt a certain companionship with Potter now that he had never felt with anyone before. "I wouldn't stay with them. I would run away."
"You don't run away from your family. And that is what those horrible people are to me, the only family I have." He smiled, it was rare that he smiled when speaking of his cousins, and he didn't know why he was doing it now. "Look, I'm gonna go and catch up with Ginny, and I know you don't want to come, so I'll just see you tonight."
Draco nodded, "How about afterwards we go out to this restaurant I know and get a drink and a bite to eat? It will keep me away from my Mother for a little while longer."
Potter smiled, "You're on Malfoy." He turned and walked away briskly. "See you at practice!" He called over his shoulder. Draco picked up the package of robes he had set down and began the long walk back to Gringott's to go home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Practice went very well that night, they only had two left and then they had their final regular season game. They had won all of their games except for the first one and they were in good position to go to the playoff series. During the playoffs the games were held on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Each game was single elimination, if they lost one game then they were out of the playoffs. The junior cup game was held on Sunday at 6pm and was a two hour game instead of just one.
It was nine O'clock, Draco was changing out of his practice robes and waiting for Potter. He was making sure Ginny got off home safely and he was putting on some fresh clothes as well. He saw him walking across the grass wearing a pair of loose pants and an un-buttoned shirt with a white v neck on underneath. "Okay, I'm ready to head off to this restaurant."
Draco let out a small evil smile, "Well it's not really a restaurant, more like a bar or a pub." It was in fact a pub, as the name of the Black Lion Pub entailed, and it was one Draco knew served minors. "Come one, we can use the floo network. The pub's located right in between Diagon and Knockturn Alley, it's a great place, nice people."
Harry didn't look as sure of himself as he normally did. In fact he was a bit nervous about going into a pub with Malfoy, he'd never really had a drink before. There was one occasion when he had crashed one of his Uncle's New Year's Eve parties and one of the guests had offered him a glass of champagne at midnight. He hadn't liked how the bubbles went up his nose though. He followed Malfoy back through the rear portion of the pitch to what looked like a very unused hearth. Malfoy took a pinch of floo powder for himself and then offered a bit to Harry. He cast it into the flames and stepped in, "The Black Lion Pub!" The world stopped spinning and he was joined a moment later by Potter. He looked around the dimly lit, yet jovial bar. There were people laughing and singing at the bar, others off at tables were talking loudly to one another, and still more were over at one side shooting wizards darts. These darts were directed with a prod from your wand and the board moved on occasion.
Draco took a seat at an empty booth towards the rear of the table and a waitress was along a minute later to take their orders. She had long brown curly hair and was very pretty, she spoke with a French accent, "'Ow can I 'elp you, monsieurs?" There was something not quite right in the way she asked her question, there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.
Draco raised his head and smiled at the young waitress, "Hello Miranda, how are you? I'd like a glass of Dragon's Blood please." The waitress nodded, the uncertainty leaving her slowly as Draco worked his charm.
She looked now to Harry, who had no idea what kind of drinks there even were. "Um, I guess I'll have the same." She nodded courtly and left to get their drinks.
Harry leaned over the table, keeping his eyes on Miranda, "Malfoy, what did I just order?" He was very anxious and his eyes were filled with worry.
Draco let out a long laugh, "Don't worry Potter it's good. Two quarters dark rum, one quarter Bailey's, and one quarter Southern Comfort. You'll like it, trust me." He smiled again at Potter trying to reassure him. "You just have to blow out the flames, it's for show nothing else." The worry flooded back in Harry's face, and Draco laughed again.
Miranda carried the drinks back on a tray and well away from her dress. The one she gave to Draco had a bright green flame licking at the rim of the glass and Harry's had the same except it was crimson. The liquid inside the two glasses truly did look like blood in this dim light. Draco put his hand over the glass quickly, smothering the flame and took a large sip. The liquor felt warm flowing down his throat and the soreness of practice began to leave him. The warm, fire like sensation emanated in his mouth and as he drew breath through his nose he could smell the fumes of his drink from the glass. His eyes fluttered shut momentarily as he savored the taste and his new calm.
Harry was still staring at him as he opened his eyes and set his glass down onto the table. He hadn't touched his own glass yet and Draco cast his eyes from Potter to the untouched, still flaming glass. "Look Potter it's easy, you just clamp your hand real tight over the rim of the glass, this cuts off the supply of oxygen and smothers the flame, then take a small sip, it's pretty strong the first time you have it. Or you could do blow it out like my grandmother does." He watched as Potter, looking very scared and then more brave. He looked like he was trying to decide. Finally he took a deep and then clamped his hand onto the glass. The look of expectancy vanished from his face when the fire didn't burn him but instead extinguished. He raised the glass up to his lips and stopped for only an instant before he took a large sip. He swallowed and lowered the glass a little. Tears welled into his eyes, but he didn't make a sound. He let out a long breath and then brought the glass up again and finished it's contents.
He set down the glass carefully and analyzed this new sensation. It warmed his body, and gave him new courage. The aroma flooding into his nose from the alcohol content were intoxicating and he desired more.
Draco smiled, "Looks like you enjoyed that Potter, how about another round?" Draco tilted his head back and finished off the remaining liquid in his own glass to catch up with Harry. He touched his wand to both glasses and they refilled. The drinks sprang to life, ignited with fire again. Draco looked once more to Harry, "Ready?" Potter nodded. They both clamped their hands over their glasses and then brought them up and drained them. Draco's face twisted as the hot drink ran down his throat, he coughed once before setting down his glass.
Harry was leaning back in his seat, his posture severely altered since first arriving. "Do you come here and drink often? This seems likes your kind of place."
The question was ordinary enough but somehow the answer was difficult for Draco. "I came here with my Father once in second year, it was the same day that he fought your friend's Father, the red headed ones. He was meeting someone, an acquaintance he called him. The man was real shady looking guy, black cloak, blood shot eyes, hair that was sticking out at all angles. Well he was holding some kind of package for my Father, never got to see what it was, but after the exchange had been made the man offered my Father a drink. Miranda came by with three glasses of some kind of bright green alcohol, and she gave the third one to me. It burned going down that first time, but I liked it. Whenever my Father goes out of town I come here. I've stopped drinking Snake's Venom, the green drink, and found Dragon's Blood instead, much easier on the throat." Draco finished and stopped speaking. He stared over at the bar, his eyes unfocused on the wall and his thoughts consumed him. Why did he come here, was it because he liked the atmosphere, or because he liked doing things his Father wouldn't approve of, or did he like the alcohol and the way it made him feel?
He shook his head once and tapped the two glasses again. He raised the glass and huffed out the flame moments before the contents flowed over his lips. He downed the glass and set it back onto the table. His head was beginning to spin a little, but he controlled the urge to sway back and forth.
"So you're Father is out of town now then?" Harry asked sipping half of his own glass. The alcohol didn't seem to affect Harry the way it did Draco, his speech was still perfect and he sat completely still.
Draco nodded his head once, "He's been away the whole summer. He left the day I got home from Hogwarts and I haven't seen him since. Do you think I'd be able to hang out with you, or even play Quidditch with you, if he were around?" He let out a soft, forced laugh, "He can't stand you, he's even worse than I was. No idea where he is either, but there's been some strange things in the papers recently."
Harry nodded his head in agreement, he had been reading it every day since he first started staying with the Weasleys. "Seems like all the giants are scared to death of something. I saw that Hagrid was seen over there too, I have a feeling that he has something to do with all of this." Draco had no comment to this, in fact he hardly seemed to be listening. "I think you've had enough to drink, Malfoy."
Draco's eyes re-focused, and he turned them on Harry. "I was listening, just thinking at the same time. I think, I think my Father is involved somehow too." His vision blurred as he sunk back into thought and his gaze turned down to the mahogany table they were sitting at. He noticed the fine wood grain, the marks of stains, and a small carving of a snake he had cut out Christmas Eve two years ago. He brought his wand up and refilled his glass. He had spent Christmas Eve here because his parents had gone out. He had no clue where they went when they left him, and he didn't care, but to leave your only son alone on Christmas Eve just didn't seem right for the worst of families. He was about to finish off his drink when he remembered it's flame. He blew it out quickly and poured the contents into his mouth.
Potter's words interrupted his thoughts, "How can you use your wand here and not get official letters from the Ministry about the code of underage magic section, whatever?"
He smiled and shook his head, "In places where a lot of magic is performed, like Diagon Alley or Hogwarts, or where there are wards up, like Gringott's or Malfoy Manor, the Ministry can't tell who's performing the magic being done. Therefor, they don't know if you're of age or not." He put his head back, remembering, "I found that out second year when I had come home for the spring break. My Father left me out in Knockturn Alley while he was in making some sort of deal and it started to snow, so I conjured up a fire. I expected an owl any second, but none came. You should try it."
Harry looked uneasy, he was thinking about the official warning he had received from the Ministry the summer after his first year when Dobby had levitated his Aunt's pudding. "Go ahead, refill your glass." Harry took out his wand very casually. He looked around to make sure no one was watching before he touched it very softly to the edge of the glass before he pulled it away and stuffed it back into his pocket. He glass refilled quickly and a flame shot up. He smiled and blew out the flame, then quickly swallowed the drink whole.
An hour later, and another five glasses of Dragon's Blood, Draco and Harry were still sitting in their booth. They were both quite drunk, and were laughing just as hard as the rest of the men in the pub now. Miranda kept glancing over in their direction with a questioning and concerned look. They burst into laughter each time as they tried to act as if nothing were wrong.
"So after the task we were having our party up in the common room and Fred and George had mixed in some of their Canary Cremes with the rest of the desserts. Neville took one bite and turned into a giant Canary, feathers and all." Draco spit out the Dragon's Blood that he had been drinking and began to laugh. The picture of Neville as a Canary, still dress in his robes with a blank expression on his face was too much for him. He laughed until his side hurt and he nearly fell out of the booth. "Wow! Okay I think we've both had enough. When you start falling over, it's time to go home."
Draco got up from the booth. He staggered once and nearly fell over. Harry's strong hand reached out quickly and took hold of Draco's elbow to steady him. "We're going to feel horrible tomorrow, I've heard about hangovers."
Draco shook his head and muttered something that sounded very much like amateur. "Yes, well I've heard about hangovers as well, but I've never experienced one for more than a few seconds first thing in the morning." He took out a small vial the size of a small coin. It was made entirely of glass, it even had a glass stopper, and was filled with a sparkling blue liquid. He cast his wand over it and a second identical one appeared next to the original. "Take the tiniest sip of this as soon as you wake up, no matter if it's morning or not. It's an antidote I found for alcohol poisoning, which is technically what being drunk is. Here."
He handed the duplicate vial to Harry. He took it slowly, not sure what exactly to make of this gift. He held it up to the light and watched it twinkle and shine. He spoke slowly, but there was no fault in his voice, "Thanks Draco." He shifted his eyes from the vial to the blond boy who stood in front of him. Harry realized that they were the same height and that there frames were quite similar. Had Harry been fed properly growing up, he could have worn most of Draco's clothes he guessed. Draco waved his hand quickly, "Don't worry about it. Consider that reparations, I should be the one thanking you, and apologizing." The cheerfulness the sentence had started with dropped, it was replaced with sincerity and regret. Harry smiled, "Well I better get out of here Mrs. Weasley may look like a nice lady, but she's not one to cross." He left a galleon on the table, that was the price for one refillable glass of Dragon's Blood. A galleon was considered a lot to most, but to Harry it had been well spent.
Draco dropped two galleons and walked with Harry towards the hearth they had come in from. He nodded at Miranda as he passed the bar, she smiled warmly at him. Harry took a small pinch of floo powder from the pot on the mantle and pitched it into the flames. He turned around once before stepping in, "I guess I'll see you on Wednesday then. We should do this again before school starts Draco."
Draco smiled, it was a smile he had never shared with anyone before. There was happiness in it, one he hadn't felt before. "See you later." He watched as Harry stepped into the flames and was swept away. He followed a moment later once the fire had turned back to it's original state. A second went by and he was home.
The living room was dark and cold. A shiver ran through Draco as the fire vanished and he stepped onto the polished wood floor. The liquor warmed him as he took a deep breath of cold air. He walked silently through the halls to his room. There was no sign of his Mother, no doubt she had locked herself into the library already and was now deeply engrossed in one her books. Draco never had a chance to see what his Mother read but he knew from her secrecy that it was most likely dark.
He closed his door behind him and lit his lamp and a fire quickly with two flicks of his wand. The room sprang to life and he now saw his Mother sitting in the red leather armchair he kept next to the desk. She sat motionless staring at him, she didn't speak. Draco glanced quickly at the clock on the top of his clock, it read 11:30, that wasn't too late for him to be out. "Where have you been?" She finally asked, getting up out of the chair. Her voice was chilled and monotonic, her eyes pierced the dimness and cut into him.
He didn't respond for a moment, he moved towards his bed. She took a step closer to him and he stepped to the right, almost sitting on his bed. She moved to circle him, he took another step, this time in the direction of his desk. She was towering over him when he finally sunk down into his red leather chair, where his Mother had sat moments ago. "Perhaps I should ask you, why you were in my room?" He leaned back in his chair and put his feet in front of him, forcing his Mother to take a step backwards. He wore a wicked smile as he watched anger come running into his Mother's face.
She glared at him and began to speak, her voice rose as she went, "This is our house, not yours, and I can sit in whatever room I want. Now answer my question!"
Draco's smiled broadened, and he adjusted his posture to make himself more comfortable. "I went out after practice."
It didn't look like this was the answer his Mother wanted. "I can well see that, I haven't been sitting here since nine O'clock because I thought you were in the kitchen. Now where did you go and with who. And don't just say a pub with someone I already know that I can spell the alcohol from here."
"I was down at the Black Lion Pub, with, with" he paused, "With Harry Potter."
His Mother's eyes opened nearly as big as tennis balls and she took a step backwards as she sucked in a breath. The shock didn't last long and a moment later her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed together as she hissed at Draco, "With who!?" Her voice rose again and the contentment finally left Draco's face, he felt a pang of fear creep into his chest.
"I went out to get a bite to eat with Harry Potter, the person I was forced to play Quidditch with. You do remember that conversation?"
Her eyes narrowed further. She disliked the manor in which his question was presented, she disliked even the insinuation that she would forget things. When she finally spoke, she spoke slow and clearly, with the sense of finality, "I forbid you to see that Potter boy for the rest of the summer vacation except when at the Quidditch Pitch!" She turned quickly after that and stormed out of his bedroom, slamming the door as she left.
Draco let out a long sigh and slumped back into his chair. He had had the best time tonight with Potter that he had ever had with anyone, and it surprised him. He had hated, envied, detested, and generally despised Potter ever since he met him on the train to Hogwarts their first year. But now that he had come to know him a little better, he could see that they were quite similar. Neither one had had a proper childhood, neither one knew their parents, either by the fault of death or their own, neither one felt they quite fit in anywhere else except Hogwarts. And now his Mother was trying to make him stop being around him, well that wasn't going to happen.
He slipped off the clothes he'd worn to the pub and put them in the hamper with his practice robes. He stood in front of his full length mirror and he admired his form. He adjusted the chain that hung around his neck, it was a silver chain with a medallion of a Celtic cross. It had Celtic writing written around the edges, he had tried to find out what the words had meant but the library didn't have any texts on that language. The chain had been a gift from someone, Draco had found it hung on his bedpost at Hogwarts his first night in the castle.
He pulled on his silk pajama bottoms and climbed into bed, the sheets were cold against his skin. He pulled the comforter up to his chin and turned over onto his side. He lay there trying to get to sleep, and thinking. He was so confused lately, he didn't know if he actually wanted to be Harry's friend because he enjoyed his company and their time together, or because he was so desperate for a friend he would take anyone. After all, Draco had settled for Crabbe and Goyle his first year, but they had been acquaintance for a long time, seeing each other at their parents parties. At the buffet table normally, Draco thought smiling.
He rolled onto his other side, trying to find a comfortable position. He adjusted the pillow under his head. He liked being around Potter, they had had a great time tonight, he wasn't a bad drinker either. They laughed together at innocent, un-cruel, jokes, they talked, they sympathized. Draco thought that Potter might be feeling the same way, he seemed to enjoy breaking the rules, as did Draco, and he certainly had enjoyed the Dragon's Blood at the pub. Yes, Draco wanted to hang out with Potter more, maybe even at school, and he had promised they would go back to the Black Lion at least once before school went back in. They could go again on Saturday night after their Quidditch game. If they won, they would be celebrating their first trip to the play-offs together, and if they lost they would be drinking their sorrows away.
Draco took a deep breath as these thoughts drifted slowly through his mind. His eyes shuttered closed and he fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.
Down stairs Narcissa was sitting in her husband's study. She was staring into the Pensieve that Lucious had shown her how to use while he was away. She saw faded and unclear images mixing together. She saw blurred images of the Quidditch Pitch, of a big game between the Knights of Hogwarts and the Chesterfield Cannons. She saw the Potter boy and her son drinking together and laughing. She struggled to control a scream, her son and that menacing boy-who-lived, it was disgusting. She pitched the book her hand had been resting on violently against the wall.
Something had to be done.
~~~~~