Pass around the Bertie Bott's!
Power Punk- Thanks! Was trying for hot. Glad I didn't disappoint.
Malfoys Queen- Don't feel sorry for Draco- it's karma. Better it catches up to him in small doses. Thank you so much!
Nightborn Angel- Thanks! Can you tell I'm manic? I'm not really, but do write that way.
draco-is-a-hottie- Well, they are guys and 17, and so hot. Thanks!
LeMoN-LiCKEr-69 Thank you! Beats me. I'm hoping Harry will find a way, besides getting Draco to wear him out first.
Crowley Black- Thanks! Steamyshower, that made me laugh. Darn, I don't know how I missed working that word into that chapter, either.
For my wonderful, witty, and kind reviewers- iiiits (not Monty Python's Flying Circus):
Unity
Part Nine
Death, Wheezes, and Home
Harry is watching himself walking a twisted path through cemetery gardens. For some odd reason, the walking Harry is greatly reduced in size, no larger, than his own thumb. When he reaches the first pale step, of a grand mausoleum, he can not climb it. He thinks to levitate, then realizes that his wand is missing. Undaunted, Harry asks the universe for another way. A white Moon Dragon hears him. It breaks from the clouds, lands and bows his long graceful neck to the ground for Harry to catch a ride. Just as Harry starts toward his silver beak, the dragon starts howling. It opens his mouth wide, flashing five sets of razor sharp teeth. It bellows cold fire at him and a name,
"HARRY!"
Harry woke to a cacophony of noise. The Moon Dragon, or something unearthly, was howling throughout the room. Draco was still nude, also, dripping wet, and wide eyed, shaking him, bruising his shoulders with vicious fingertips.
"Wha-?"
"DEATH-EATERS!"
Harry pushed Malfoy off, rolled, accioed his wand, pulling a box from under the bed with his other hand.
"Don't tell on Hedwig, Draco Malfoy or Harry Potter!" screamed Harry to the mad little wizard on the box, realizing suddenly for the first time, that the mad little wizard looks like an extremely unflattering caricature of Snape, now smiling and winking at him. He opened the case and tossed half the Smoke Smell and Don't Tell bombs about the room. As the doors flew open, Harry caught sight of black cloaked figures ascending the stairs.
From the perception of the Death-Eaters, filing in though open doors adjacent to both staircases, the room was filled with possibly the most noxiously foul smelling, eye tearing, sticky green smoke, known to wizarding world. Fred and George discovered the basic formula, by rather happy accident, in their first year potions at Hogwarts.
In retaliation, Snape caused them both temporary baldness, written off as 'an unfortunate side effect of their abysmally inept potion-making skills.' To which Dumbledore had replied, "My, Severus, unfortunate side effects are getting creative this year!" Since then, the twins have spent many hours of good unclean fun, perfecting the substance and turning it into bombs, many of which have been directed at Snape.
It was not a fair fight, from any angle. Only eleven to two, although they probably expected Harry to be alone. Some Death-Eaters vomited into their masks. Some discarded masks and held capes to their faces, trying not to breath the horrid smoke. Some stumbled blindly into each other, and into Harry's new furniture. One fired a spell wildly into the green smoke. Draco took him down first. Because of the patented No Tell spell, Draco and Harry were completely immune to all effects of the bombs. They could not even see the smoke, and fired spell after spell at their already severely disadvantaged assailants.
When all the Death-Eaters were petrified, silencioed, and bound, they identified each and blindfolded them. Draco discovered his father was the wizard firing wildly.
"Hello Lucius! Off again so soon? Narcissa is never happier, than when you go away on your long holidays, to Azkaban."
Harry discovered a much hated Slytherin, Patrick Ozmandius, who graduated in their third year, among the eleven present. To Harry's surprise, Draco took the time to kick his former housemate, once, hard as he could, in the groin.
"Long story, tell you later if you'd like. Otherwise, consider it the fallout of house politics."
Harry was sure he never wanted to hear that story. Draco reset his Dark Mark detection spell, ending the ghastly howling. He had added the feature to Harry's wards, as Harry slept that morning. Draco obliviated each blindfolded wizard, and spelled an official complaint, filled out by Harry, to stick to one of them. Draco mobilicorpused them to the Leaky Cauldron for DEER-keeping (Death-Eater Emergency Relocation.) Harry wrote a quick and incomplete explanation, leaving out Draco, and the Smoke, Smell, and Don't Tell bombs, at Draco's urgings, along with a couple of requests from Harry, for Hedwig to take to the Order.
"Take what you can't leave, Harry. We are not staying here."
"Where do you have in mind for us to go?"
"Home."
The word, or perhaps how Draco had said it, sent shivers through Harry's spine. Ten minutes later, they were dressed and packed, setting off on their Firebolts for Malfoy Manor.
Harry thought it ridiculous for a building of this size to be used as a private residence. The manor made Harry feel three inches high again. Built entirely of enchanted marble, glowing by moonlight, it was eerily reminiscent of the oversized mausoleum from his dream. Draco and Harry landed on a rooftop Quidditch pitch. Draco let them into his fourth floor suite of rooms. Draco told Harry to hide. Harry opted for wearing his invisibility cloak. Draco made a quick recon of the suite. As Harry listened, Draco sent away a house elf with orders for the others.
When Draco was sure they were alone, he led Harry into his bedroom. In the middle of the room, was the huge bed that Harry recognized from Draco's memory message. The foot of the bed was a Sargasso Seadragon's head, wrought of some sort of silver metal. The sheets were now black silk.
"Harry, are you in need of a lavatory?
"No."
"Toss your things and yourself onto the bed. No, wear your shoes. Listen, this bed is more kinds of magic, than Granger and I, put together will ever hope to understand, impervious to unforgivables, lots of other dark spells, and all muggle weaponry. It will defend itself and whom ever is inside it, most wickedly. It is what many generations of very powerful, very knowledgeable, very paranoid wizards can improvise for feeling safe while sleeping.
Do not open it for anyone, not for Dumbledore, not for a pantheon of gods, nor for me. If it opens without your help, I'll be the one opening it. I'm going to close you up in it, in just a minute. No need to be alarmed.
Keep in mind this is a manor. People may need to speak to me. This bed omnivates. If I'm gone for a longer period of time, than you can justify with your imagination, tell the bed to take you tothe ground floor, not the first floor, not the dungeons, the ground floor, then go left."
"Dungeons? Anyone I know down there?"
"No, no one down there at all. At least, not the last time I checked. Harry, do try to keep your mind on what I'm telling you."
"Omnivator, ground floor, left."
"Get the house elves to take you to Muggle-on-Tyne, Muggle-by-the-Sea, or where ever you think you won't be killed. If we do get separated, I will owl. Don't look for me. Don't wait for me. Do I have your word on all that?"
"Yes."
"I'm trusting you, Harry, like you are trusting me."
"I know."
"Brilliant. See you when I can."
Draco closed the bed. Harry watched as scales seemed to grow, encapsulating him under an armored canopy. The ceiling scales of the bed were enchanted. He now stared up at a perfect reflection of himself.
to be continued
