A/N- Yes, I'm back. I have one more chapter completely written at this point after this one, and I'm working as much as I can with schoolwork in the way. My chapters are getting longer, I know, and I hope you are all enjoying reading it as much as I am writing. Thanks go out this chapter to LoMaRiBa, MerlinHalliwell (Halliwell as in Charmed? I really like that series…), Ms. Padfoot (Thank you so much for being one of my most faithful reviewers!), Mikee, MusicalHermione, white owl, Rei-Chan (another faithful reviewer!), and Phoenix Flight. This chapter has one of my favorite scenes right off the bat, and it ends with two more of my favorite scenes from my favorite character's viewpoint! *glomps Draco*
Oi! Leggo! You're squashing me !
Oh. Sorry. *blushes* Don't forget to tell me if you see a mistake or just want to say you like it!
Disclaimer- I don't own anything you recognize. I'm just playing with the characters and pretending they're mine. I wish Draco was mine, though… ^^
Bonds of Pain
Chapter 12
In which they go shopping and try to brew a potion
Severus stalked along High Street in Hogsmeade, watching the older students as they shopped and socialized. He would much rather be in his dungeons making healing brews for Poppy, but Dumbledore had given patrols to all the teachers, ranging from sweeps of the castle to scans of the border of the village. He was halfway through a circuit of Hogsmeade when he spotted Potter and Draco's group—he had heard them called the Dream Team, just as the original trio had before—being harassed by a double handful of sixth and seventh year Slytherins.
"Aww, is the high-and-mighty Prince Malfoy hiding behind Gryffindors because he's afraid of Daddy?" on of the older boys taunted. Paul Demeurt, son of a Death Eater, a boy Draco had once looked up to. Snape glided closer to see how his godson would handle this.
"I have no father, Demeurt. I may bear the name Malfoy, but I deny the power Lucius Malfoy once had over me. He is no more my father than you, Crabbe, or Goyle. So bugger off and leave my friends alone." Severus was cheering inside. Draco was finally standing by his own decisions, and he had made some real friends. Then he saw that the other students weren't leaving, and a crowd was gathering.
"Make us, pansy boy." Ouch. Severus knew his godson was a perfectly normal teenage boy, with normal raging hormones and probably wet dreams like any other boy his age. More shocking than the accusation, however, was the reaction from the Dream Team. One of the three girls—Lavender Brown, he believed—stepped forward and slapped the offending boy, hard enough that the sound echoed along the street. Everything in the vicinity stopped, and silence fell.
"Take that back, slime." The girl's voice was like ice, making the Slytherins step back. Draco looked absolutely furious.
"You know nothing." The blond's voice was low, dangerous. "None of you know anything about me!" he suddenly shouted to the crowd. "Do not judge when you do not know." To Severus' shock, Draco pulled up his navy shirt to show scars from a knife, still livid after seven weeks, still healing. A low murmur of surprise ran through the gathered students. "The man I used to call Father did this to me for making my own decision about what I wanted to do with my life. So sod off, Demeurt." Draco yanked the shirt back down and stormed off with his friends. Severus thought he saw them duck into a weapons shop as he swept forward to discipline his students. He had thought they were more grown up than they seemed.
"I hope you boys enjoyed that," he crooned, noting the red handprint on one cheek. Ouch again. He absently noted not to get on Miss Brown's bad side in the future. "You will all be serving detention with Filch. Separately." The boys groaned. "You will also be returning to the castle immediately." It wasn't even noon yet. Hopefully they would curb their desire to taunt Gryffindors from here on out. He escorted the group of teens from Hogsmeade with a severe tongue-lashing and had them taken back to the school before returning to his patrol.
(A/N- Wasn't that fun??)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~That went moderately well,~ Harry commented as they slid into the weaponry shop. Draco snorted distractedly. Harry grinned lopsidedly and took a look around.
Metal gleamed from every wall, as well as several display cases. Battle axes, broadswords, rapiers, and daggers shone dangerously. Draco had pored over his copied pages that morning before breakfast, and the best charm he could find had been cast on each member of the group before they left Gryffindor Tower. Surprisingly, the girls had not objected, and Ginny had actually been eager to purchase her own weapons. There had been no adverse reactions from the charm, so the Dream Team had assumed that it was working when they headed for the village.
{I think the charm really did work,} Draco thought dryly in his friend's mind. The darker boy paid no attention, peering intently into a display which held a large pair of matched daggers, almost long enough to be short swords. They looked to be nearly the length of his forearm, with a slightly serpentine edge on one side that looked as if it would hurt more coming out than going in. Not that he wanted to test that on anyone.
"Excellent craftsmanship on those blades, sir," a smooth, too smooth, voice said. Harry looked up to find the shopkeeper leaning over him.
"Indeed." The portly little man didn't give off a very trustworthy feeling. ~I don't think this shop sells normal armaments, Draco.~
{If I remember correctly, everything in here has some sort of magical property. You could be getting feedback from the weapons themselves.}
"Are there any… special features?" Harry asked the shopkeeper. The man practically grovelled.
"They are adamantine, my lord. Unbreakable. The metal is so resistant to damage they had to be forged with magic. They will never need sharpening because of the metal, however. Would my lord like to examine the daggers more closely?" Harry didn't miss the upgrade in title from "sir" to "my lord," but he was tiring of the obsequious whine. He nodded, and the shopkeeper scrambled to open the display and withdraw the twin blades. The hilts seemed to be wrapped in a red suede, and the crosspieces, simple curls, were golden-hued.
As Harry picked up one of the blades in his left hand, a warmth surged through him. It felt right, and he flipped the dagger end for end, catching it with the point near his elbow. The pommel was a gilded lion's head, a deep red stone clenched in its jaws.
"Story the seller told is that they once belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself, my lord. Over a thousand years old, but as good as the day they were forged." Harry gave the balding little man a sharp glance , and he shut up.
"Are they enhanced with any spells?" he asked, a Snape glare on his face and a near-snarl in his voice. The smaller man, reminding him oddly of that rat, shrank in on himself.
"N-not to my knowledge, my lord. Does my lord wish to look at something with magical enhancements?"
Harry smiled grimly at the simpering man. "No. These will do just fine. Perhaps something to bear them in, however?" The man ducked in something akin to a bow.
"Of course, my lord. I have the perfect thing. If my lord would excuse me for a moment?" Harry nodded and glanced towards his friends as the man scurried off.
~Did you see him, Draco? Practically falling all over himself. Eurgh.~ His blond friend shot him a pitying glance before turning to lovingly stroke a bastard sword hanging on the wall.
{I'm glad he's not fawning all over me. I'd hex him into next week. You're too patient for your own good.}
~I'm tempted to curse him. I take it you really like that sword?~ Harry smirked. The bloody thing was huge, but he could see Draco wielding it. Ron was hefting a quarterstaff with bronze caps on the ends. Lavender was toying with a pair of nunchaku in a corner, Hermione was twirling a short sword and a matching dagger by the window, and Ginny was idly fingering a set of throwing knives on another wall.
"My lord?" Harry was snapped from his speculation by the oily shopkeeper, who was holding a red belt with a sheath on either side. The leather was the same shade as the hilts of the daggers, and the belt buckle was shaped into a phoenix in flight. It, too, was gilded and bejewelled in the same blood-red stones, and ornate tracery on the twin scabbards was plated with gold as well. He could just see a phoenix and a lion in the tracery on one of the scabbards.
"This was sold to us as a companion to the blades, my lord. We do not display it in order to reduce suspicion."
"Very well. The blades and belt. Ten galleons?" Harry's offer made the man look scandalized.
"Thirty, my lord."
"Twelve," Harry countered. There was no way he was going to pay thirty galleons for two knives, no matter who might have owned them, or what they were made of.
"Twenty-five."
"Fifteen."
"Twenty."
"Eighteen, no more."
"Done, my lord." The man sheathed the daggers as Harry counted out the gold coins. When the offensive little man scooped up the money, Harry buckled his new belt on under his cloak and secured the ends of the sheaths around his thighs.
Twenty minutes later, they had all purchased their weapons and some way to carry them on their persons. They gladly left the shopkeeper behind, chatting eagerly about their acquisitions.
After a full day of shopping, they were knackered. At least, Harry was. Draco had walked around all day with his sword strapped to his back, as it would have dragged on the ground if he'd worn a belt scabbard. He'd left his cloak draped over his arm all day as the weather was nice enough to go around in shirtsleeves. Of course, the entire Dream Team had carried their weapons everywhere all day. Ginny had secreted her knives who-knew-where, and both Lavender and Hermione had belts for their armaments. Ron had simply used his quarterstaff as a walking stick all day.
As usual, Hermione had purchased several books on hand-to-hand combat, as well as a book on each of their weapons. She wanted to read when they returned to the common room, but Harry instead suggested that they work on the potion for their Animagus transformations, and the rest agreed. They were going to put away their purchases in their rooms and meet in Hermione's room to brew the complex potion. They could hardly meet in Ron's room, as it was as much of a mess as his room at the Burrow.
Harry could hardly wait to brew a potion, for a change.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Draco was having problems deciding where to put his sword. He wasn't about to leave it out where Seamus, Dean, and Neville could mess with it. He had been through a great deal of weapons training as a child, which they probably had not, and they might take off important bits if they started playing with his beauty.
{You know, you could put that… thing under the covers.} Harry might have been out of the room, but they had been working on the range in which they could communicate through the bond. Who knew when they might be attacked? It would be best to have a form of long-distance communication that could not be intercepted or disrupted.
~It's on a thing,~ he replied irately. ~You're right though. Under the covers is a good place. I'll draw the curtains, too.~ He did so, gently smoothing the blankets before closing the velvet drapes. Satisfied that his roommates would not mess with his sword, he swept from the room and made his way into the prefect's hall, finally arriving in Hermione's room. As usual, he was the last there.
"According to the book, the potion will trigger the initial transformation," Hermione was saying. Ron was sitting next to her and reading over her shoulder, brushing against the brown-haired girl. Harry was sitting next to the youngest Weasley, also close enough to touch, though Draco noticed that his friend had pointedly avoided looking the girl in the eyes for the last two weeks. Harry had, of course, gotten the rest of his parents' belongings from the headmaster the day after their trip to Diagon Alley. A book in the library had provided better information on promise rings, which recognized the bearer's true love on eye contact and magically placed themselves on the left ring fingers of both bearer and true love.
Wait. Eye contact. Damn. Potter was avoiding Ginny's eyes because he didn't want to put her in danger. This had to be rectified, and Draco was going to take care of it now.
~You have the promise rings on you, don't you?~ he asked. Harry stiffened, giving him all the answer he needed, and his friend's hand darted into a pocket.
"'Scuse me, 'Mione, but I need to take care of something before we start." The rest of the Dream Team stared as Draco stood beside Harry, who was turning red. "Gin, look at him. Straight at his eyes." Harry looked at his lap, and Draco grabbed his hair, forcing him to look up. "Dammit, Potter, this is for your own good. Look at her!" The others were giving him odd looks as Harry's eyes slowly met Ginny's.
"What the…" Ron started to say, but he cut off as a golden glow surrounded the pair. "Bloody hell." Hermione elbowed Ron, but neither of them took their eyes from the glowing couple. Lavender, too, was transfixed.
After what seemed like hours, the glow faded, and Draco could again see his dark-haired friend and the fiery younger girl. Their left hands had entwined between them, and a silver band adorned each ring finger. Draco could sense the raw emotion Harry was feeling at the moment. Not wanting to intrude, he put up a temporary wall around the bond and moved to sit between Lavender and Ginny.
"Hmpf. At least now he'll stop moping about her all the time," he idly commented. He could see Ron winding up to say something about the situation, and he was trying to get the other boy to lighten up a bit.
"Oi! Earth to Harry Potter!" the redhead said, leaning over to swat his friend. "Stop staring at my sister!" Harry's only response was to lean towards said sister, his eyes closing. Ginny copied the motion. Oh lord. They were going to start a snog session right there, in the middle of Hermione's floor.
"Potter," Draco warned, "this is not the time or place to explore her tonsils." No reaction. They were too immersed in, as he had said, exploring each other's tonsils. Exasperated, he pulled out his wand and aimed it at their faces. "Aquae frigido!" A stream of cold water squirted from his wand tip, hitting dead on target. The pair spluttered and pulled apart, aiming glares at Draco.
"Malfoy…" Harry drawled. Draco held up his hands to forestall an attack.
"We have more important things to do than watch you two snog each other senseless all afternoon." Harry sighed in defeat, still holding the auburn-haired girl's hand. Ron, on the other hand, had turned redder than his hair.
"What the hell do you think you were doing to my baby sister?!" he yelled. Harry's eyes went wide, but Ginny displayed her legendary temper.
"I am not a baby, Ronald Weasley! I am only a year younger than you, and I can very well make my own decisions about what I do and with whom I do it, so shut up! I'll kiss Harry if I damn well want to!"
~Well. That certainly shut him up.~ The room was oddly silent as Ginny sat back. Ron looked shell-shocked, but Hermione and Lavender shook with suppressed laughter. Draco, for his part, leaned back casually.
"Aunt Rita would have a field day with this," he muttered. Attention in the room suddenly went from Ginny to him.
"Who?" the others chorused.
"My aunt and godmother. Rita Skeeter. I wish I knew where she was. I've owled her a few times lately, but I haven't gotten anything back, and she hasn't written anything in the Prophet, either." Hermione smacked her forehead and stood up, opening her wardrobe and coming back to the small circle with a large jar. It seemed to have several leaves and twigs inside.
"Here, you can have her," she said, a slight sneer in her voice, as she handed the jar to him. He looked inside, and a very familiar beetle with familiar markings looked back out at him.
"Aunt Rita?!" Draco quickly unscrewed the lid and glared at Hermione. "Why? You practically kidnapped her!"
"And how else was I supposed to get her to stop printing lies about Harry? I know you saw that nonsense, and you know better!" As the yelling once again escalated, the beetle crawled from the jar and transformed into a very exhausted-looking reporter.
"Draco, I'm all right. It's not as if she hurt me…" The blond felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his aunt behind him.
"But she put you in a jar…" He would have continued, but Rita shook her head.
"It did no harm, dear. Though I would like to know why my godson is in a Gryffindor prefect's room with five of the people he used to tease most."
Instead of brewing the potion for their initial transformation, the Dream Team spent the evening explaining what had happened over the past two and a half months.
How is Hagrid's tutoring going? Who is the DADA professor? Why are Remus and "Snuffles" around? Find out next chapter!
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Beth Weasley