Title:Carte Blanche

Author: Ryyne

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the wonderful work of J.K. Rowling. Also, this was inspired by/ (quite) loosely based upon A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens. Any plot elements in common with that brilliant piece of work are, then, not mine.

Warnings: Too much plot:) And slashiness.

Carte Blanche

Draco simply stood there, arms tightly around Harry. His face was developing a thin sheen of sweat, whether from anger or fear Harry couldn't tell.

Harry knew intuitively, though, that things were about to change – and certainly not for the better – oh – his heart stopped with painful realization.

Oh, no.

Fuck, they know where Draco lived, lives, they know – They know –

Draco...

Chapter Nine: Isn't It Great, Isn't It Grand

Remus bent over his garden, closely inspecting the plants, both magical and mundane. Lately the weather had been exceedingly dry, and most of the herbs and flowers weren't taking well to the soil. The wolfsbane, most noticeably, was completely dead and shriveled. The sandy-haired man sighed. Getting his monthly potion was quickly becoming a close-to-impossible task, with increasingly stringent ministry laws, and his own 'underground' status.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!"

Remus started. It was a high, hysterical voice; and could almost be mistaken for a woman's.

He raised his eyebrows. Draco?

Running into the house, Remus was presented with a rather baffling scene. Ten or so people – they seemed to be tabloid reporters – surrounding Draco and Harry. Harry's hands were on Draco's shoulders, restraining him; Draco looked ready to attack the entourage. They didn't seem fazed at all, however, or so Remus thought – until...

"You! Werewolf!"

Remus blinked, and swiveled his head towards the voice. He was met with a long, slender, and precariously pointy wand in front of his nose. The face behind the wand was intense and determined, with dark, narrowed eyes.

"Please remove your wand," Remus told the woman politely; he had learned long ago to never, ever aggravate a situation unless absolutely necessary. The attention in the room abruptly shifted to the older man.

"As soon as you're where you belong, I will," she snarled.

Remus' brows furrowed. He'd never seen or met an activist-reporter before, really. Of course, they all supported Blackwell and the Ministry, but nowadays, it was a rare person who didn't. And besides, how could she know about Remus' condition? Granted, it wasn't exactly secret, but Remus wasn't open about it, either.

There was a small movement behind her, and Remus craned his head ever-so-slightly. A few other people had taken spots a few feet away from her her, wands also out, although others seemed to be trained on Harry and Draco. By now, Remus noted, they were almost in a figure eight pattern, one circle around Remus, and the other around his younger companions. The former auror's lips curled into a cynical smile of realization.

Tsh. Typical fighting pattern – how unoriginal. They've really let go of themselves, haven't they?

He casually tucked his hand into his robe pocket, and adopted a nonchalant, almost naïve, manner. "And where would that be, miss?" He asked, discreetly gripping his hidden wand.

"In a dog pound." She showed her teeth in a most unseemly sneer.

"But," Remus said, with an almost apologetic smile, "That would be an auror's job, wouldn't it, miss?" He began to withdraw his hand from the baggy pocket that enveloped it.

The woman's eyes widened, realizing that she was caught. Her mouth opened to spit out a spell, but Remus pounced first.

"STUPEFY!"

At this, the entire room erupted into a frenzy of shouts and curses. Harry and Draco had also retrieved their wands, and were just barely managing to dodge the various spells that were being thrown at them.

Now, generally, Remus was a quick-thinker, and he prided himself upon it. Three against a dozen were impossible odds. There was no way the trio could ever hope to fight off the badly disguised aurors, no matter how inexperienced they appeared to be.

So in a moment of simple necessity, Remus leaped over to Draco and Harry (who were admirably holding their own), grabbed both their arms, and apparated clean out of the already-broken wards.

Really, Remus thought, as they reappeared in the thick, secluded forest Remus transformed in, that was almost too easy.

"How the fuck did that happen?" Demanded a pacing, angry Draco. He glared at an inanimate tree stump, as if the entire ordeal was its fault. "Haven't you people heard of wards?"

"There were wards!" Harry retorted. "Somehow they got them down!"

"Impossible," scoffed Draco. "Those aurors were complete dumbasses. No way they could bring wards down."

"Well, then," mused an extraordinarily calm Remus, "they must've been already down before the aurors even arrived."

Draco looked at the werewolf incredulously. "Shouldn't you have felt it if they were already down?"

"No. When they were put up – oh, many years ago, I think in Harry's fourth or fifth year – I wasn't, erm, encouraged to participate. My condition could have compromised them." Remus smiled dryly, making it clear he thought the very notion was ridiculous. "So my magic isn't connected to them. I wouldn't have felt them being destroyed."

"So how did they fail, then?"

Remus blinked. "I... I'm not entirely sure, actually," he admitted. "I can't believe any of the people who put up the wards back then would have left any holes – and even if they had, the others would have felt it."

Harry's head suddenly snapped up, his eyes wide with realization. "Wait – who put up those wards, exactly?"

Remus considered the question, ticking the names off his fingers. "Dumbledore, of course, and Si – Sirius, Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, Kingsley – you know, the Order crowd – and, I believe," Remus smiled at this, "Fred and George Weasley." He chuckled. "Merlin knows why Dumbledore had them do it as well. Probably doubted they'd get killed in the War," he mused. "Well, he was partly right."

Harry groaned, running his hands through messy locks. "Damn. That's how."

He received questioning looks from his two companions, and hastened to elaborate. "They're all dead."

Remus looked baffled. "If I'm not mistaken, Harry, George was very much alive the last time I checked. And as long as at least one of the participants is alive, the wards should still be perfectly intact."

Harry sighed deeply, a pained look flitting across his face. "Well – yes – but he might as well be dead, wards concerned. He's... he's a squib, now, because of Fred's dea...Fred." Harry said quietly. "No magic left at all. That's why the wards went down; they had no longer had magical wells to draw strength from."

"George Weasley, a squib?" Remus gasped. "Oh, dear... the poor boy," he murmured.

"How come you know this?" Draco demanded.

"He told me," Harry muttered, "the last time he visited. You were there, actually."

Draco's eyebrows disappeared into the blond fringe of his bangs; the memory coming back to him vividly. Of course -- that's what George had whispered to Harry! Draco scolded himself silently; And you thought they were having some sort of affair.

"Yes, I remember," Draco replied softly, glancing at Harry. The young man was obviously ruffled, with flushed cheeks – despite the chilly, stagnant air of the forest – and a dark but fiery look in his eyes. Draco smirked, reminded of a phrase from a poem he had once read. 'As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames / No light, but rather darkness visible / Serv'd only to discover sights of woe...'

Draco silently cursed at himself as the trio began to slowly navigate their way away from Grimmauld, through the woods. You better watch yourself, Malfoy, or you'll become – attached – or something.

At this thought, Draco nearly tripped over a large root that was protruding from the ground. Attached? To Harry Golden-Boy Potter? He snorted. Likely.

He pointedly ignored the protesting drum in his chest as he plunged forward, deeper into the dense forest.

Remus breathed deeply as he slid into a chair at the village pub. The trio had managed to go clear through the forest separating Grimmauld Place and the small town nearby; they were now taking a small stop to regroup and figure out just what to do next. Draco had not-so-subtly told the others he needed a very strong, very quick alcohol fix, and Harry and Remus had conceded without hesitation.

"Butterbeer, please," Remus told a rather well-proportioned waitress who had immediately approached their table. Harry echoed Remus' request (he'd never been one to take his hard liquor well), while Draco ordered a firewhiskey, on the rocks.

Once they received their drinks, they sipped in appreciative silence for a while, before returning to more pressing matters.

"So," Draco said in a flat tone, twirling his bright red straw between his fingers, "Where are we to live, now?"

"'We'?" Harry shot Draco a glare. "What's this 'we' you speak of?"

Draco returned the icy look. "Oh my, I'm ever so sorry, Harry dear, but I was under the impression that there's normally a 'we' after a few heated snogging sessions." He narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I was in the wrong?"

Harry was silent, gaze turned downward and cheeks rosy. Draco went on. "And, by the way, why are you so pissed at me anyways? Don't tell me you're homophobic, or some such nonsense," he sneered.

"Of course not, that'd be being hypocritical," Harry shot back. "I – I'm just..." he trailed off, all of a sudden shy. "Never mind."

Remus, who was steadily going through his butterbeer while watching his two companions, coughed noticeably. "I'll just be going to the loo, then," he said quietly, and rose out of his seat, heading towards the back of the pub.

Draco watched him leave over Harry's shoulder. Once the older man was out of sight, he leaned closer towards Harry. "What?" he hissed. "You're what?"

"I'm just... worried, is all," the brunette muttered. "You're going to get killed, if you're not careful." Like Sirius, was the unspoken thought.

Draco smirked. "I'm always careful. If I get killed, it'll be of my own volition, you can be sure of that."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And that's much better?"

"Of course it is, you prat. Wouldn't you rather choose your destiny instead of it being chosen for you?"

"I..." the former Gryffindor's eyes were wide with recognition. Somehow, Draco was much more like him than Harry had ever imagined. "Yes."

"See?" The blond half-grinned. He reached over to flick Harry's nose with his forefinger. "Now... why were you worried, again?" He winked.

Harry grinned in return. He knew when Draco was teasing him. "Because for some inexplicable reason, I care about you, you bastard. I'm not entirely sure why," he mused, as Draco looked curiously at him, stifling a smile of his own. "I mean, you're not particularly intelligent, and you have a rather unusual sense of humor... I must be using you for sex," he joked.

Draco gazed at Harry intensely, and the atmosphere changed slightly, like a gentle shift in the breeze. "A part of me hopes that's true," he murmured.

There was a prickling feeling on the back of Harry's neck, and his head felt vaguely like a balloon. Light, high, and airy – a strong contrast to his throat, which had suddenly tightened. Harry found himself unable to speak.

Luckily, he didn't have to: Remus returned, plopping himself onto the seat. "So," the werewolf said cheerily, "Everything better? Kissed and made up?"

"Uh huh," Draco said, as he looked thoughtfully at Harry. "Well, except for the kissing part. You interrupted us before we got to that."

"Oops, silly me," Remus replied cheekily. "But we wouldn't want to scare away the patrons, now would we?" Draco replied with a rather devilish grin. "So, you two are, what, together now?"

Draco's grin disappeared. He blinked, taken aback by the frank question. He'd honestly never thought of it like that – like that sort of commitment. Malfoy's and commitment didn't tend to mix well.

"Yeah," answered Harry. Draco's head snapped towards him, and Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, we have had a few heated snogging sessions, haven't we, Draco dear?" He said, mimicking Draco's earlier accusation.

The blond just stared at his – what? boyfriend, with a rather acute blush interrupting his pale features. "I – I -" he stuttered.

"Speechless, Draco?" Mocked Harry sweetly. He leaned over to peck the Malfoy's cheek. "Well, I'm sure I can fix that, later," Harry leered suggestively. "I always thought you might be a bit of a loud one in –"

Harry was immediately (and effectively) silenced by Draco's mouth.

"Ah, young love," sighed Remus. "Isn't it grand?"

TBC...

Note: Anticlimactic, wasn't that? The great 'get-together' scene, I mean. Well, not everything in life is soaked with drama. Some things just "happen."

Secondly, I got a bit of 'how in the world did the whole breaking-in-to-Grimmauld thing happen?' in reviews. I hope this answers half of the conundrum – the ward half – but no worries, the part about the 'invisibility'/secrecy of Grimmauld WILL be explained in due time :) It's all a part of a larger plan. ... Sort of.

Lastly: Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews! I was dancing in my chair (well, figuratively, at least). Yes. Reviews are definitely encouraging, whether they be (constructive) criticism or praise :) nudge, nudge, wink, wink