11. Bluebell Flames

Morning brought confusion to Harry Potter.

He felt guilty for no real reason. He felt dirty for no real reason.

And he felt every reason to feel both.

He woke up in his own bed. He had no picture whatsoever how he had gotten there. He reached for his glasses, but saw the world blurry with them. Instantly he remembered he had repaired his eyesight with magic the night before. So he put the glasses away.

He had all his clothes back on. He had no memory of dressing himself. Somebody had nicely wrapped also a blanket around him. The curtains were closed; only a narrow gap let the weak sunbeams flood inside his four-poster.

How the hell did I get in here?

Harry straightened to sit up, carefully drawing the curtains a bit more open. As the morning light struck his eyes, he felt his whole head explode.

Aargh…

Massaging his temples, he escaped the warmth of his bed. He cringed as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor. Yawning with unforgiving headache, he scanned the room trough, expecting to see his roommates still snoring deep in sleep. However, the room was silent and empty.

Oh, great… What the fuck is the time?

Harry went to look at his reflection in Dean's mirror. He frowned and looked at his features closer. Numb, bruised lips. Messy hair. Tired eyes. And a love's bite right under his jaw.

Great. Just great. And what can I say for an explanation?

Harry sneezed and coughed. He had also caught flu during his nightly adventure.

Yes. Getting even better…

Harry rushed into the bathroom. He felt really cold, so he had a long, hot bath. Then he dressed in a clean white shirt and blue jeans.

Where the devil is that wand…? I need to fix my face a little before I can go anywhere…

Draco Malfoy was up earlier than his night-hour aficionado. He was looking as enchanting as always, without a single trace of the night slept on a damp sward. He and other members of the Slytherin Quidditch team were now having their practise at the pitch, under the hazy, mist-veiled beams of the sun.

"Come on! Twenty times left!" shouted Etre, their personal fitness trainer. Chilly air made his warm breaths vaporize as he encouraged his team. "Nineteen… Eighteen…"

The Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin would take place on Sunday, the next day. And Etre was merciless. The team had already scurried thirty bouts around the pitch, practised with the Bludgers and the Snitch, trained their skills in smashing each other off the brooms, and tensed their every muscle with many other demanding manoeuvres. And now there were the presses left.

Draco experienced the nasty feeling of perspiration running along his neck and spine. He frowned but continued lifting his chest from the ground patiently. He really had to wonder how well he and his friends had survived the practise trough, taken that none of them had slept three hours, except the fourth year chaser, Malcolm Baddock.

"Twelve… Eleven… Ten…"

Justin's voice became indistinct as the blood rushed in Draco's ears. Concentrating to think about something else, he forced his muscles to work the last trial.

Damn that Potter! Passing out the way he did, in the middle of the fucking woods! 'Spect he doesn't drink that often. Draco scowled at the little dandelion in front of his nose. But it doesn't help the fact that I was forced to dress him and drag him back at the castle! How annoying! I should've left him there.

"Three… Two… One… And we're done!"

Draco fell to the ground, breathing rapidly. He really needed to take a shower again, after the one he had taken only four hours ago. His hair wasn't filthy with liquor anymore, but with horrible sweat, which Draco hated more than anything. He glanced around, and saw the relieved faces of Montague, Bole, Baddock, Warrington and Greengrass. They all lay joggling on the lawn, smiling with satisfaction. There was nothing the Slytherin team loved more than a good, body-breaking practise.

"Quite a night, eh?" grinned Montague at Draco, after they had recovered a few minutes. "I still can't believe it. Did you really invite Harry Potter there, of all the people in this castle?"

Draco gave him a warning look, nodding towards Baddock, who was sprawling at not so remarkable distance. "Not so loud, Rodriguez. Remember we're not allowed to talk about it in public."

Montague smiled apologetically. Luckily it seemed like Baddock hadn't heard a word.

"Well, what the hell was it all about?" he continued, now in a keen whisper. "Brutal fun with Potter's emotions?"

Draco smiled deviously. "I just wanted to rock the world a bit. And so did Potter, obviously, when accepting the invitation."

"Honestly, nobody knows what to think of you two now," giggled Greengrass silently in his ear from the other side. "You're not in love with Potter, are you, Draco?"

"In love?" Draco spat. "What do you think, Mary-Ann? That I'm some fudge-brained Gryffindor girl who likes to wear pink pixie dresses?"

Montague and Warrington grinned. Greengrass winked her eye. "Perhaps only a little?"

"Love! What is love but a weakness? My father taught me that long, long ago. I don't even know what it feels like, to be honest. And I certainly don't want to find out, either. I don't want any weaknesses," Draco retorted, having cruel fun plucking the petals away from the little dandelion. "Besides, even if I was to learn to love somebody, would it be Harry Potter? I don't think so."

"You better watch yourself, Malfoy," teased Etre, sitting next to Montague and sliding a hand over his mate's shoulders. "You never know if Potter suddenly takes the upper hand of you."

Draco primarily looked disgusted. Everybody laughed.

"Harry James Potter! Where were you last night?"

Hermione stood in the middle of the common room floor, her hands on her hips. Harry could hear from the shrillness of her voice that she was close to erupting like an acid geyser. Behind her, cuddled against the backrest of an armchair, was sitting Lavender Brown. Her eyes were red with crying. Leaning to the mantelpiece of the grate was Ron, looking demanding and severe.

"Well?" demanded Hermione, when Harry's answer was delayed.

"I, eh, went out for a stroll. And lost the track of the time," Harry silently mumbled, holding his aching temples.

"Out for a stroll, in the middle of the night?" Ron commented, rather maliciously. "Are you mad? Or still drunk?"

Harry smiled remorsefully and shrugged. "Perhaps a bit of both…"

"That is not helping!" Hermione huffed. "Like it wouldn't have been enough that you left Lavender without a date and your best friends with a good deal of worry, you also came back sleeping like a baby angel in Draco Malfoy's arms, completely unaware what was happening in the world around you!" Hermione was now erupting. "Draco fucking Malfoy's arms, Harry!"

Harry grimaced and looked at the floor, very sickened. Oh. My. God. What the hell was Malfoy thinking?

"He told us he found you from the Slytherin staircase, totally passed out. He also gave us a vivid explanation how he had tried to kick you awake, without any results. And since he didn't want to see you the first thing in the morning, he decided to drag your arse up here."

Harry was slightly purple from holding his breath for so long. Hermione really was angry. She usually never swore.

"What were you thinking, wandering in that direction after nine pints of Butterbeer?" Ron sermonized. "Malfoy could've hexed you really badly! Thank your sweet mother in heaven that the Ferret was also too intoxicated to even consider hexing!"

Harry was relieved, although still feeling sick. "Well… I guess I was a bit… out of character…" he coughed, with only half because of the flu.

"At least you should talk with Lavender!" Hermione said as her final statement. "Come on, Ron!"

Harry watched as his two best friends disappeared trough the portrait hole, holding hands. He felt happy for them two, for finally solving their emotional overhand knots. The real world, however, did not let him stay in his thoughts for too long. He walked to Lavender, observing her wretched state with eyes he hoped looked worried.

"How are you doing?" he asked, biting his sore upper lip.

Lavender cried noisily. "I feel so totally sad!" she sniffled. "I should have known better…"

Harry thought he had never been in a situation this uncomfortable, not even with Voldemort. He pondered his words for a second or two. How am I going to tell Lavender that it is all over now?

"I'm sorry, Lavender," he began. "I just…"

"You! Sorry!" interrupted Lavender, howling miserably. "Oh, it's me who should be sorry! When you told me you weren't feeling well last night… I should've led you safely back here, right that moment! I shouldn't have allowed you to go and get lost in some horrible Slytherin dungeons! In such ill condition! How I hate myself! How selfish I was, not wanting to quit the party!"

Harry was totally dumbfounded. Is Lavender the one who feels guilty now? Oh, fuck. I'd rather have her angry than guilty… This is going to be really hard…

"I hope you forgive me, Harry," the girl abruptly rose from her seat and snuggled against Harry's chest. "Please, forgive me!"

"Uh… Sure. Whatever," he gasped, before he knew what he was saying. Harry tried to get rid of her clutch as gently as possible, and took a couple of steps backwards.

Damn! There's no way I can bring this subject up now. How dense can she be? Doesn't she understand anything? I am being a complete ass towards her, and she thinks that the fault is in her!

"Eh… Where did Hermione and Ron go, Lavender?"

"They promised they'd wait for us outside," Lavender smiled, her voice a bit more joyful than before.

Harry looked confused. "What for?"

"Oh, it's The Hogsmeade weekend!" the girl smiled coyly. "Did you forget? Ooh, I just love that little town! I'll buy some chocolate frogs, and some Sherbert lemons. And can you imagine that Gladracks Wizardwear is presenting their new winter collection today! I think I need a new muff. Yes, and Hermione told me that the Sleakazy's Hair Potion makes miracles, so I think I'll have to buy a bottle of that, as well…"

Shit, shit, shit! Harry grazed his hand across the ridge of his nose, nearly crying.

Shit!

Because of the Hogsmeade weekend, the castle was nearly empty. Draco tiredly slouched in his dormitory room, collapsing on the soft silky-sheeted mattress of his bed. His cheeks were the colour of a peachy rose, after the rapid walk from the Quidditch changing rooms to the castle. His cotton-soft locks were nearly white, being still wet after the shower. He scowled at the ceiling when a little headache tried to crawl under his scull. All the other Slytherins were gone to Hogsmeade, but Draco had stayed behind. He felt like having some time for himself, without seeing the hubbub of the little magical town.

Wonder how Potter's doing… I hope he's feeling very sick. Draco's eyes glimmered in a predatory way. I just wonder if I see him today, so I could kick him in the ass for being so troublesome last night! I'm a Malfoy, for crying out loud! I am not supposed to be carrying Potters around!

An image of Harry lying on top of him suddenly flooded in Draco's mind. Those green eyes, covered with rough locks of night-black hair… Draco silently sniggered. Oh, yes, he desperately wants me. I could see it from his eyes. Draco inhaled deeply and jadedly. Now I only have to make him so obsessed with me that he would do anything for me… Anything…

Draco dozed for a while, thinking about Harry.

Hogsmeade with all its adorable little shops was swarming with black-cloaked students at one o'clock that afternoon. Harry followed Hermione, Lavender and Ron, swaying on the background when they entered several boutiques and confectioneries. His head didn't stop trying to blow up, even though he had swallowed already three of some pills Hermione had given him. No effect. Only the mind-ripping, nerve-scratching ache from minute to another.

And as if this wouldn't have been enough, Harry couldn't help noticing that he was the general target of some very significant smiles from the elder students of the other houses. As he entered the Zonko's, Warrington, Etre and Bole grinned at him cheerfully, Bole even winking his eye. Lavender wasn't helping the situation, wondering out loud what the Slytherins' weird behaviour could mean. Also Ron and Hermione got suspicious when Pansy Parkinson approached Harry, whispering something to his ear.

"What the hell is she whispering to you?" Ron's face was dismayed. "She should keep her fingers far off you!"

Harry tried to grin. She just told me that I look still very sexy without the glasses, and that I should really wear leather again. "It was nothing. She just… Well. I don't know. She's nuts."

"Damn right she's nuts," mumbled Ron, piling a heap of Dungbombs in his arms.

"What if we go and get some pints of butterbeer?" suggested Harry, half yawning. "I might need a Veela's Embrace, though, to ease this headache a little."

"Veela's Embrace? What's that?" Hermione tilted her head like a curious bird.

"Er… It's a drink." Harry sucked his lower lip in slight disarray. "It's very strong."

"Where have you learnt about drinks?" asked Ron, now rummaging trough a tub of Hiccup Sweets.

"Um, well, Lupin has told me a little," he lied. In truth, he had learned about the drink last night in Slytherin dungeons, of all the places.

Damn! Remus! I haven't written to him in weeks! I must do it tonight. Harry frowned. After Sirius' death, Harry had taken Remus Lupin as his confidant. The werewolf had been a great support for him during the summer after the fifth year. They had been writing letters… Harry had been feeling so empty and dark… Hell, he was still feeling dark… But Remus' company and wise words had somehow kept him sane, if not actually being able to mend the longing and pain of his crushed heart.

"The Three Broomsticks is always so crammed," Hermione said. "You think we can get seats?"

"I think we could make a stop to another place," answered Harry. "Remember Hog's Head? It's the place where Hagrid won the Dragon egg years ago. It's not so far away."

"But they're not very student-friendly there," protested Lavender. "I think we should…"

"Does anybody else object except Lavender?" Harry asked, a little abruptly and crossly.

Hermione and Ron keenly shook their heads, in slight confusion, half scared of their best friend.

"Good. Follow me."

Draco Malfoy woke up to a cruel rattle that came from the direction of the window. It was small and placed right close to the ceiling, because the dormitory room was in the dungeons. Draco opened lazily his other eye.

"Come in, Malum. Break the damn window, I don't care. I'm just too sleepy to come and let you in," he said, his voice lazy and muffled.

A fine black eagle owl thrashed the window in shards with its hard peak and flew in. It landed on Draco's bended knee with its remarkable eagle weight. Draco unfastened a fine parchment from its leg.

"You know where to take some goodies," he said, and began to open the silver ribbon around the parchment.

Malum flew on Goyle's bed and pulled out a snack pouch from under the pillow. It ate a couple of bacon-flavoured crisps and dashed off again.

Before reading the letter, Draco drew out his wand and whispered an idle 'reparo', pointing towards the remains of the broken window. It was fixed in seconds, not letting a slightest waft of wind creep inside anymore.

The letter was from Lucius Malfoy. Draco knew it before he opened it, since nobody but his father ever used Malum. The eagle was evil, in short.

Draco,

Expect us to visit Hogwarts next Thursday. I will explain some things to you in person. Your mother asks me to remind you that Hailie's birthday is in two weeks.

Lucius

Draco paled.

This little, ordinary-looking letter made the rosy colour completely run away from his cheeks.

Hog's Head. A pub not meant for children.

Both Hermione and Lavender escaped the menacing atmosphere by grabbing Ron's arms. Harry led the way, as if he had been the owner of the pub. This behaviour made Ron very worried. He had seen Harry retreat day after day inside a weird core, being very hostile towards the world. Guiding the girls towards a little table in the corner, he decided he would talk with Harry seriously in the evening. There was badly something not right about Harry's behaviour.

There were only six other customers in Hog's Head. When the elder men first saw the teenagers enter, they grimaced angrily, eyes fiery with disgust. But when they recognized that the incomers were in the company of Harry Potter, their attitude changed from hostile to favourable. This all in five seconds after seeing Harry's lightning-shaped scar.

Harry saw none of this. He was just happy to get his hands on a large mug of something relieving. Veela's Embrace was a hot-shot, however of a size of a tea mug. He sipped the burning liquid in ecstasy, giving a moan of pleasure. However, for Hermione, Ron and Lavender he ordered plain butterbeers. He didn't want to scare his friends any further.

"The autumn is coming with a rush," remarked Hermione, braiding her frizzy hair. "Have you guys thought about the subjects you'll choose for the last year? Where are you going to specialize?"

"I think I'm following Charlie to Romania. I'm kind of interested in Dragon care," replied Ron.

Harry found this very amusing and snorted.

"What?" Ron scowled. "You think I can't manage with a couple of Peruvian Viperteeth or Ukrainian Ironbellies?"

"But of course you'll manage," Harry hastily smiled. But what about Malfoyian Poisonfangs?

"I'm going to choose Glamour Charms, and definitely Divination! I've always loved Divination!" said Lavender. "Ooh, you wouldn't believe what I saw in my teacup last lesson! There was this huge house, a rich house, and there was a fair blonde woman standing at the door, in a wedding dress. I think she was me!"

"Really interesting…" Harry looked very dull. He swallowed a couple of nips more from his mug.

I can't take this anymore. I just can't. I must dump her. I really must. A resolute expression stretched over Harry's boyish features.

"The Gladracks Wizardwear's fashion show starts in thirty minutes," squealed Lavender, enthralled. "Think we should finish our drinks soon and get going?"

"There's another kind of show starting in two minutes, right here," Harry unsympathetically burred, inhaling the warm fumes of his drink. "You sure you don't care to see that, as well?"

Lavender grinned artificially, glancing nervously around. "Well, what kind of a show?"

"You tell me."

Lavender was baffled.

Hermione and Ron looked elsewhere, trying to look indifferent. They knew Harry so well that they could recognize from his voice that nothing nice was coming.

Harry lifted his opaque gaze straight at his girlfriend's face.

"I am leaving you, Lavender. I can't date you anymore."

There was a completely silent moment for the next ten seconds.

And then the hell broke loose.

"What?" Lavender screamed with her most high-pitched voice. "Why not? What do you mean? You must be joking! Harry, this really isn't funny!"

"Try to understand. This was a mistake. I've known it already for a long time."

"Long time!" Lavender's voice did not cease down. "We've dated but five days!"

"Sorry."

"Aaaaargh! You cruel bastard! You liar!" Lavender was shaking all over. "What the hell have I done to deserve this? You just dump me, coolly, in front of your best friends, without giving me one good explanation! You just wanted to start using that famous scar of yours, to trick girls and abuse them? You heart-breaker! I… I… I hate you!"

Lavender did the same thing Boot had done the night before and threw her butterbeer all over Harry's face. "I will make you sorry! I will make you pay! You don't deserve even my friendship anymore! You're a complete jerk! Asshole!"

Lavender tossed her long white hair as elegantly as she could, tears streaming down her cheeks. Oozing with anger and bitterness, she sailed out of the bar.

Harry glanced at Hermione and Ron, being slightly horrified. Both his friends looked also very aghast, but said nothing. Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed it. His eyes told Harry that he had not lost his best friends. Only made them even more suspicious and worried than before, if possible.

Draco was sitting on a windowsill, close to the statue of the hump-backed witch. He had left his bedroom, wanting to find a solitude nobody could break. He had wrapped his cloak tightly around him, as if escaping the warm air, and was looking at the autumn nature outside. The leaves were getting really brown; the bloom of the flowers was fading. However Draco seemed to notice none of this. He was so deep in other thoughts.

The hell Hailie's birthday is in two weeks! It was Friday last week.

Hailie had seen her first morning three weeks early, but only the Malfoy family knew this. The reason for this secrecy was Lucius, who always was very calculative. He had wanted to keep it a secret, for a reason or other. And now Draco could guess the reason.

Lord Voldemort.

Draco fidgeted the piece of parchment in his hand. Your mother asks me to remind you… The words danced behind Draco's closed lids. No. Narcissa Malfoy never reminded Draco of anything. She didn't need to. Draco remembered without.

No. This could not mean anything else but the Call.

My father will come to see me. He will explain everything to me in detail.

Draco massaged his left inner arm. In two weeks, Lord Voldemort would burn the Dark Mark there. And Draco would become his slave, for the entire lifetime.

Smiling scarily, young Malfoy crushed the parchment and burned it with beautiful Bluebell flames.

Spread your wings and fly, Potter. You have fourteen days to escape my deadly bites.

…TBC…