I'M BACK AFTER TAKING TIME OUT TO BUY THE WORLD FROM EBAY AND GO SHOPPING AND OTHER EQUALLY IMPORTANT TASKS. SO JUST TO RE-CAP, HARRY AND DRACO HAVE RETURNED TO THEIR APPARTMENT BUILDING TO FIND THE INHABITANTS DEAD AND THE DARK MARK HOVERING ABOVE -NOT V NICE REALLY.
Btw, I should point out that there have been no disclaimers on my chapters because I put it in the summary to save myself the trouble! But in case of confusion (uh-huh...) I don't own Harry Potter or any associated characters. I did create Hortense and am pretty pleased with myself, and I am thinking up this plot as I go, lol. I also own the latin dictionary I'm using to help me make up new spells when I need them. :p xxxxxxxxxxxxx enjoy!
LAST LINE OF PART 6
They reached the door they sought. But it was intact.
PART 7 OF FLYING THE NEST-
Malfoy put his key in the lock and turned it, Harry covering them with his wand. For once there was no doubt that this was a situation in which they were both in exactly the same boat, and would always watch each other's backs. They took in a simultaneous breath Malfoy glanced at Harry, who nodded, and swung the door of the flat open.
And got the shock of their lives.
"Boys! My safe boys!" Dumbledore rose out of the brown armchair, looking both overwhelmingly relieved and impossibly concerned, almost as if he had been severely worried, if not terrified for them. He blinked for a second and muttered "componere!" they heard the sounds of their clothes and other luggage obediently packing themselves away.
"Professor-" said Harry, but couldn't think of anything else.
"What happened?" said Malfoy, urgently, being able to think more clearly without being addled by drinks, "how did they know we were here?"
"Those muggles you have ...acquainted yourself with must have been followed, Mr Malfoy," said Dumbledore grimly, "they couldn't tell the death eaters exactly where you lived of course, but the building itself was never under a full concealment charm due to the other residents." Dumbledore paused again before continuing in a far more uncomfortable and piteous tone: "and I feel it is my duty to tell you that those young ladies were... they are... I am very sorry Draco."
Harry swayed and shoved his wand back into his back pocket. Malfoy swallowed and sat down on the sofa. His head bowed, and a vein near his eye became more visible. His hands were white as they gripped his knees, his whole body suddenly taut with tension. Harry tried not to look at him because Malfoy was striving not to cry.
"What happens now, sir?" asked Harry, staring at his bedroom door which edged open and his trunk, broom and Hedwigs cage started floating into the lounge. Malfoy's luggage, despite his recent poverty, seemed to be taking up a great deal more space.
"You must both leave, in a moment," said Dumbledore, quietly. Malfoy's shoulders began to shake from his efforts. "I have produced a portkey that will take us to Grimmauld Place. It is completely secure, as you know, Harry. I misjudged both of your situations most grievously. Forgive me. It will not happen again." he sounded increasingly determined. Harry nodded. Malfoy drew another breath and glared at the floor, as if daring tears to escape.
"What is this Grimmauld Place?" he asked, his tone tense and untrusting.
"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, which you will be suitably informed of when we arrive," said Dumbledore briefly, turning his attention to a large pocket watch, and setting a small blue bottle on the top of the table the TV had stood on (the TV having just then drifted into Malfoy's bedroom for packing). "I am its secret keeper, and as we will not be taking chances, I thought it best to escort you myself," he added wearily. He rose and beckoned to the cases and cages, which came across to their owners. "We must ensure all luggage is touching some part of us," Dumbledore instructed, "good, -now put a finger on the bottle. Three, two....one..."
Harry felt a hook around his navel and gasped as the minimalistic flat dissolved into a spectrum of merging colour and blurred images.
They arrived in front of a large dark house of many storeys. "Think carefully of what I am about to tell you, and visualise it in your mind's eye, Dumbledore said to Malfoy: "Number 12, Grimmauld Place." Malfoy's expression flickered as the house swam into view.
"I see it," he said dully.
They knocked rather than ringing the bell, and waited patiently. The early August night was wonderfully inappropriate for their feelings. The air was fragrant with the lavender swamping the neighbouring house, a gentle breeze rippling over the old ivy above them. All was still, as if in lamentation for the deaths of Cassy and Heidi, who Harry could see in his mind's eye as the first time he had met them, teasing and giggling with Malfoy on the sofa at the flat. But there was a relaxed easy atmosphere outside of the trio that stood on the doorstep: one that they could not share. At length there were shuffling sounds from the other side of the door. Dumbledore whispered something absolutely inaudible, and touched his wand to the door handle. Harry assumed it was a password. Malfoy adjusted his cloak and assumed his trademark sneer, in an attempt to shake off any apprehension.
The door opened slowly, emitting a low creak. A spider tumbled off the old doorframe and hung on its little thread for a second, legs flailing. Mrs Weasley's face appeared in the bluish light, creased with worry. Tension fell from her face as she took them in, exhaling with relief.
"OH! Oh Albus, you had been so long! I had thought-! But shh now, come along to the kitchen. Quietly now, don't wake anything up! Mobilarus!" They followed her down the dank hallway, their possessions trailing along behind in mid-air. Harry glanced at Malfoy, who seemed to be trying to look at everything without detection, absorbing it, and privately noting some resemblances to his own house. FORMER house, he corrected himself. The manor would never be a home again. As they crept down the steps into the kitchen below, their luggage carried on past and up the large flight of stairs.
"Oh, Harry my dear! Why didn't you come to the Burrow in the first place?" Mrs Weasley pulled Harry uncomfortably to her bosom and squeezed him tightly as she gave a hiccupy sob. "OH! Oh if something had happened! I wanted to send Arthur to -but he was at work -I- oh Harry! But, there now," she hastily recollected herself and released him. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him but mercifully did not comment. "There now, I will...make some tea. How do you like yours, Draco, dear?"
Malfoy blinked, thrown off course by the offer of hospitality. His sneer dropped and was replaced by a curious mixture of embarrassment and fear which made him appear vulnerable and younger. "I -I beg your pardon?" he said cautiously.
"Tea, darling, I'll make us all a cup of tea." Mrs Weasley repeated, kindly, "milk and sugar?"
"Both. Please. Two sugars," said Malfoy haltingly. Mrs Weasley regarded him for a moment, then nodded briskly and turned to the big copper kettle on the hearth, and started directing the milk, sugar and tea bags with her wand. Harry and Malfoy turned their attention back to Dumbledore, who took out a small box from the depths of his robes and opened it. A large rectangle of light sprang out, covered in curly writing. Harry gazed at it; it appeared to be a list of some kind that Dumbledore had written for himself. A schedule. Sparkling at the top was a flashing message that read '11.23 and 42 seconds PM- Wizengamot.57474930...' there followed some odd numbers and some kinds of runes that Harry didn't understand. Dumbledore made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a groan, and shut the box, which squeaked: "VERY LATE!"
"I know," muttered the old man, seemingly to himself. He smiled tiredly at Harry and Malfoy. "I am so sorry boys, but I must go. Now that I know you are safe.. well. I will return for the Order meeting soon, but Molly here," here he shared a brief smile of reassurance with Mrs Weasley. "will see you both to your rooms. These events will mean you must remain here for the duration of the holidays, I fear. But I give both of you my solemn promise: I will return here to see both of you in the remaining weeks."
"Albus!"
"Molly, it's alright. I will return to see you soon, but for now, just know that you are safe and... Harry, do remember your occlumency?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Good. Goodnight boys. And please," his eyes gave a twinkle that they had not seen that night, one that lightened their hearts a little, "do try to get on, and don't aggravate the other... things." He smiled warmly at them again as if basking in the relief of their safety, before disapparating with a pop.
Mrs Weasley turned to them and was about to speak when another crack made them all jump and Remus Lupin materialised in front of the two shaking boys. He stared from one to the other for a minute, his eyes tired and his hair across his face. "Thank Merlin, thank Merlin," he stated, shaking Harry's hand, and then Malfoy's, who looked greatly surprised. He turned. "Molly I only just received your owl. I thought -I feared the worst." His breathing hitched and Mrs Weasley steered him into a chair.
"Sit down Remus, and drink some tea," she said firmly. Lupin nodded, and took a hold on himself before gesturing to the chairs in an invitation for Harry and Malfoy to sit, which they did. They were all presented with a large vat of tea. Harry had a mad worry about having to be up and down to the bathroom all night. "There's room here if you want to stay for a while, Remus. The boys can have the rooms on the third floor, I've cleared them all out, and they're quite clean and suitable. I'm afraid Buckbeak is still occupying...Sirius' old room," Harry and Lupin flinched. "but there's your usual room avaliable now that Mundungus has gone to Romania to help Charlie, so..." she trailed off.
"Thank you Molly, but I fear I...that is, the change is in three days and I don't want to be a-"
"You're not a burden Remus, you're a werewolf and there is nothing wrong with that in my book," said Mrs Weasley firmly. "I'll have Severus bring the potion here. We can owl him in the morning."
"Professor Snape?" said Malfoy, eagerly. It was the first time he had willingly spoken that evening. "Could I see him?"
Mrs Weasley gave him a look filled with pity. "Of course you can, dear," she smiled tiredly and looked at the clock. "Gandalf's staff, almost two in the morning! Come with me, or we'll never get sleep tonight!" They collected their tea, and followed her up the stairs. Harry noticed that Malfoy looked rather repulsed by the shrunken house-elf heads, and was glad.
Their rooms were neighbouring, filled already with their belongings. Malfoy went straight into his and shut the door firmly. "There's a study opposite for you to do all your schoolwork," whispered Mrs Weasley gently. Harry nodded, and squeezed Lupin's hand again before entering his own room and shutting the door quietly. It housed a single bed with a warm-looking green coverlet. Against the opposite wall stood a rather creepy-looking dark wardrobe with clawed feet, and above the chest of drawers, which had serpent handles which he was sure had just stirred, hung a large ornate mirror, which snored from time to time. Harry got into bed still clothed, took off his glasses, and was about to put them on the floor when he remembered this was the Black house and he hadn't checked under the bed, so he put them on the window sill instead.
He lay awake for hours until well after four in the morning, turned on his side away from the wardrobe, listening to Malfoy crying on the other side of the wall, groaning in pain from his nightmares, calling out for the girls whose deaths he felt were all his fault.
End of part 7 poor Malfoy you gotta feel sorry for him! I know Mrs Weasley is there but I felt they needed mothering. Ron etc aren't there cuz hey, it's not their house. Molly is really there cuz she's an important member of the order. Ron, twins, etc will probably crop up cuz they've gotta see Harry, but they won't for a while yet. Next part we can see Hortense again. I had to have Remus in this because I love his character an awful lot.