"I don't know if you're being ignorant or purposefully obtuse, Potter," Snape bellowed from the flames of fireplace. After a half hour's discussion, Harry continued to insist that today was their moving day.
Draco sighed as he stood next to his trunk, dressed in Muggle clothing and examining his nails. He tugged at his t-shirt, making a face at the name of the Muggle band across it and the scruffy-looking figures that were in the band. "I spent six years at Hogwarts trying to figure that out. I don't think that answer his knowable in this lifetime."
"Hush, you," Harry retorted. Draco sat on his trunk and huffed in response. "Look, I said yesterday that we were going to Grimmauld Place and that's where we're going." Harry turned to Hermione and Ron for confirmation, but they were looking at each other. There was mutiny on the horizon.
Snape eyed Harry before answering. "It is not feasible for me to make arrangements that quickly, Potter. I did what I could, but Narcissa Malfoy is unwilling to budge from the Manor. Being where she is puts her at risk should Draco be considered a traitor."
Harry folded his arms. "Then we'll have to bring her with us."
Draco rolled his eyes and sniffed.
"As Mr Malfoy has so eloquently put it, Narcissa will not be moved if she does not wish to be," Snape said, giving Draco a sidelong glance.
Even the act of Snape looking at Draco set Harry's protective nerves on edge. Fighting the urge to slap that leer from Snape's face, Harry cleared his throat to garner his attention back. "Then you'll have to make her see that she should be moved."
Snape reached out to Draco, stroking his fingers through the blond hair. Draco batted his hand away and scooted further away on his trunk. Harry couldn't help but look smug. Not that he wanted Draco himself, of course. He'd vowed to protect Draco-- that was all there was to it.
Pulling his hand back, Snape turned his attention to Harry. "That will take time, time that your arbitrary sense of righteousness isn't allowing for. You are going to get more people killed, Mr Potter, or are you too arrogant to see that?"
Harry flinched at Snape's implication, but held Snape's glare. "You know why I want to move us."
Snape waved him off. "I've no idea what you're talking about."
Harry started to laugh, but Hermione cut him off. "Maybe we should stay here for a few more days while he sorts it out, Harry." She raised her brows at Harry's glower but looked past him at Draco, who appeared to be growing upset. "Even when we go to Grimmauld, we'll be in contact with Snape. It's really not accomplishing anything to--"
"It's my house! There's more room and there's-- it's mine!" snapped Harry.
"All right, you have a point, we could use more room," she said, "but Harry, just because we're in your house doesn't mean you'll have any more control."
"We can use a Fidelius charm and we won't be sitting ducks for Death Eaters," Harry pointed out.
"The Death Eaters won't be coming here unless something seems suspicious. If you keep throwing tantrums and taking my attention away from them, then they will have a reason to be suspicious. If you leave right now, Narcissa's blood will be on your hands, Potter. If your ego is worth yet another life, then by all means--" Snape folded arms over his chest to close his point.
Draco stood up and began to yank his trunk towards the door..
"Where are you going?" Harry asked. Ron took a spot in front of the door.
"Back to the room to unpack until you lack-wits sort out what you're going to do. I'm not leaving without knowing my mum's safe." Draco shoved Ron out of the way and lugged his trunk behind him.
Snape attempted to continue, "Nevermind him, I've found the location of another Horcrux."
Harry continued watching Draco pull the trunk down the hall. He didn't seem to be in a big hurry. Eavesdropping, he wagered. "Where did you find it?" he asked, focusing back on Snape.
"Well, I haven't found the item, just where it's likely to be. I believe that you saw the orphanage where the Dark Lord grew up?" Snape waited for Harry to nod before he glanced at Hermione and Ron. "We had believed it to be in Surrey, but that was a much larger orphanage than the one he grew up in. I've managed to procure the address to where it is in Sutton. Progress being what it is, I'm afraid the building has been built over."
"What is it now?" Harry asked. Snape handed him a slip of paper with the address scrawled out on it an all-too-familiar girlish script.
"Some shop or other. That is unimportant."
"Except that we'll need to figure out how to get into it," Ron said, peering over Harry's shoulder to read the address. Hermione shrugged at Harry..
"Mr Weasley is setting up a place for you three to stay in the area, so you will have accommodations should it take you as long as it did before." Snape smirked.
Harry wasn't amused with any of Snape's insinuations. "Us three? What about Malfoy?"
"He's staying here. You have work to do and moving him would arouse suspicion, as I've mentioned repeatedly." If Harry didn't know better, he'd swear that Snape's dull baritone had gone sing-song.
"I'm not leaving him here with you. You'll--" He glared at Hermione who had put her hand on his shoulder, but instead of her eyeing him as if to tell him to let it go, her eyes were narrowed at Snape.
Snape's brows rose. "Whatever you may think, I do not force myself on young men."
"Just coerce them so they don't think they have a choice," Hermione spat. Harry watched her angry face for a moment and then turned to Snape.
Snape waved his hand dismissively. "He must stay here, if he's found to be gone, then they will start a search after they've murdered his mother. Is that what you wish?"
"You're a Potions Master; make enough Polyjuice potion to keep Peter looking like Malfoy until we get back. Or just keep people from stopping by. You know, you speak as if the Death Eaters just drop in all the time, but we've been here a few weeks without so much as an owl from anyone but you and Malfoy's mum." Hermione crossed her arms and glared coldly. "I think you're bluffing."
Snape looked indignant and then he raised his brows to a spot just beyond them. Draco drawled in an icy tone, "I can take care of myself. Thank you all ever-so-much for your concern."
Harry whirled around and looked at him anxiously, "But…"
"I'll be fine. Go get your Horcrux." Draco leaned against the wall leading to the kitchen and closed his eyes as if looking at Harry was too painful.
"Very well, that's settled," Snape said. "You'll be leaving this afternoon."
--
The hotel room was quite posh and Harry worried briefly that the Weasleys might be paying for it. The Order itself did not have much money, which increased his suspicion. Seeing the delighted grin on Ron's face as Hermione swirled around in the room, Harry understood and felt guilty for thinking everything revolved around him. He sighed as they made weak excuses about being tired and headed off to "get some rest."
The sounds coming from the room strangely reminded him of Draco. He thought about how they'd left him-- standing in the doorway of the kitchen with his eyes closed as if everything was too much of a nightmare to even look at. They hadn't spoken directly to one another right up until Harry left, when Draco wished him good luck and told him not to worry. Easier said than done. He wondered if Snape was already starting to try to break Draco down or if he'd give it a couple of days.
No, I'm not going to think about this. It's over. Whatever all of that was… I don't care now. Draco was just using me. He wants me to worry about him and I'm not falling for it. Harry turned over in the oversized empty bed and felt disappointed not to see Draco squeezed at the edge. Determined that this wasn't going to bother him, Harry wriggled to the middle of the bed, spread his arms and legs out and stared at the ceiling till he fell asleep.
--
Harry double-checked the address on the piece of paper and stared at the alleyway. On one side stood a Virgin Megastore, on the other, an empty shell of a building for hire.
"Snape did say that progress had eliminated the original building," Hermione pointed out.
Sighing, Harry stared down the narrow alleyway and turned around to face them. "Right, then. Er, I guess we should start by going into the store? Maybe look around?"
Ron nodded. He couldn't take his eyes off of the shop filled with CDs and DVDs and a world of Muggle items that Harry was pretty sure that Ron had seen, but not in this quantity. "My dad would love this place."
Harry grinned and nodded, wondering if maybe Ron hadn't inherited a bit of Arthur's appetite for Muggle electronics. He followed Ron and Hermione into the shop, passing over vulgar displays of scantily clad women and men wearing plastic bags with elaborate braids. Ron appeared fascinated, Hermione amused. Harry couldn't help but think of all of the crazy things Draco would probably have to say about this place with its bright lights and gaudy red signage.
The employees appeared to be in their own worlds of registers, restocking and chatting one another up. He tried to catch the eye of them a few times, but none seemed interested in helping a customer, so he started to peruse the edges of the store, running his fingers along the walls, looking for fake panels. He'd gotten to the t-shirts in the back corner before he remembered that this place had been constructed well after Voldemort fell. His eyes landed on a black t-shirt with green and silver lettering that proudly proclaimed "Virgin."
It was too absurdly Slytherin for Harry not to buy. He reasoned that he was not buying Draco Malfoy a gift, so much as stumbling upon an excellent way to talk to one of the salespeople. He pulled the shirt from the rack and laid it over his arm and peered around one last time. The Spice Girls weren't likely to have the answers he was looking for. He headed for the check out.
"Thissit?" the young man with the spiky black hair and face studded with jewelry asked.
Harry nodded, ignoring the clerk's obvious eye roll at someone buying a branded t-shirt. Suddenly, he realized that he'd come to the desk without a plan at all about how to broach the subject of what he was looking for. He couldn't say exactly what he was doing, but there was no reason to hide that he was looking for an orphanage. "Actually," he said, after getting to total and pulling a wad of money from his pocket, "I came here for kind of sentimental reasons. My grandfather used to live at an orphanage around here. I guess I wanted to see it."
"That old place? Long gone. Burned down ages ago," the man said as he handed back change. He folded the shirt and then shoved it into a small, plastic bag.
"Burned down?" Harry was taken aback that someone not much older than he would know about something like that.
"Oh yeah, back in the seventies. Burned up with all the kids inside-- was terrible." The man leaned against the back corner after throwing the bag towards Harry.
"Were you there?" Harry rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the question. Of course he hadn't been there; this guy would not have even been alive back then. "Er... I mean, how do you know about that?" He took the bag and squeezed it down as much as he could and shoved it into his loose jean pocket. It didn't quite fit, even with the air compressed out of it and hung out awkwardly.
The man shrugged. "There's a sign 'bout it out in the alley. Take my smoke breaks out there sometimes. Creepy little thing with snakes and skulls all over it."
"In the alley?" Harry asked breathlessly, already starting towards the door.
"S'what I said." The surly employee shrugged and turned to talk to a young lady who had wandered up as Harry dragged Ron and Hermione outside.
--
"Hiding in plain sight," Ron marveled as Harry slid his fingers along the serpentine frame of the pewter plaque.
The snakes seemed to sense magical fingers, as they writhed under Harry's touch. He snapped his hand back and stared at it in horror. Fascinated, Hermione reached out to them, but they didn't react to her at all. They all looked at one another.
"Maybe this is another thing with Parseltongue?" Ron offered.
Harry shrugged and tried speaking to the sign, telling it to open up.
"Touch it while you speak to it," Hermione said.
While the snakes did twist under his touch, they made no move to open anything in spite of Harry's attempts at passwords such as "open up," "Tom Riddle," "Marvolo," "Gaunt" and a few desperate pleas of "incest is best" and "Mudblood." Harry shook his head, his hand still caressing the moving snakes. "I don't think that's the way."
Ron narrowed his eyes at the sign and reached out to it while Harry was touching it, but the small snakes turned back to stone when he touched it. It didn't appear to be a test for blood purity, not that Harry would've passed it. "In memoriam of Chastewick House for Boys," he read.
"Maybe it's reacting to the part of you that's Voldemort Harry," Hermione observed before she looked at the sign again, "Interesting that there were exactly seven boys left to burn at the time."
"If by 'interesting' you mean 'homicidal and creepy,' I'd agree with you," Harry said. Feeling something cold and metallic wrap around his thumb, he looked at it in alarm. The snake had grown and was sucking at his thumb, inching forward as it grew bigger. In a fraction of a second, it became big enough to swallow his hand and moved up his arm. He began to panic.
"No, Harry! Leave it, that's got to be it-- it's--" Hermione held Harry's arm up to it so he wouldn't pull away and it started to cover her hand as well.
The group fell silent as Ron added his hand. Harry looked gratefully at the other two as the cold metal soon surrounded them, compressing them in a stifling, inky coldness.
Harry felt like he was falling, sliding headlong into oblivion with nothing to clutch onto but his mates. All he could hear was the accelerating sound of their breathing. He realized, after a few terrifying seconds, that his throat was raw from screaming. He could see that Hermione was screaming too, but he couldn't hear her either.
Just when Harry thought for certain that he was going to go mad from the complete absence of gravity and perspective, everything was unbearably hot and bright red. Finally, he could hear his, Ron and Hermione's screaming along with a loud roar of-- something.
It took a moment to realize his eyes were still closed, and once they opened, he registered other wails of terror and pain. The three of them stood in the midst of a burning building. Harry assumed it to be the orphanage. The smoke caused him to choke and cough, so he dropped to the floor in the hope of attaining precious air.
When he hit the floor, he was shocked to find the air breathable, although it was still hot. He looked up to tell Ron and Hermione about this revelation of good floor air. They stood over him, looking down, sporting large bubbles around their heads. Hermione's wand was drawn.
Reaching up, he felt the protective bubble around his head and blushed. "Thanks, Hermione." The sound of his appreciation echoed in the bubble and he tried to remind himself not to speak too much.
Peering around the room, he realized they were in the same room in which Tom Riddle had been in when he saw him in the Pensieve. Or so he assumed. The wardrobe appeared to be the same. Shabbier, and painted in an orangey-red in a nod to 70s trends, but in the style of the wardrobe that he remembered Riddle kept his treasures in. He moved to open the wardrobe.
There was a, earsplitting scream that cut off abruptly, followed by another. Harry looked between Ron and Hermione.
Hermione was mouthing something. "Killing them."
Harry furrowed his brows. Killing who? Then it occurred to him. The kids in the orphanage! Of course! Voldemort was killing them. He started for the door.
Ron grabbed Harry's arm and shook his head. He pointed at the wardrobe and then to himself and Hermione, walking his fingers to indicate that they were going to go check it out. The sound of a baby wailing made Harry jump and his pulse increase, but Ron spun him around and shoved him at the bookcase. When Harry turned around, Ron and Hermione were gone.
The wardrobe appeared normal, or at least as normal as an antique painted orange would look, but when Harry approached it, it burst into flame. Harry brandished his wand, flicking it as he used a wordless spell to create water. The flames turned green upon contact with magic and faded to blue when he ended the spell.
Well, there's something you don't see every day.
Screwing up his courage, he reached through the flame, feeling his skin blister and boil. He shrieked inside of his bubble, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Yanking open the wardrobe, he saw the cup of Helga Hufflepuff shining in all its golden glory. Lunging forward he grabbed it and yanked his arm back, only to find that it wasn't scorched. That's when he realized that though he was standing in the midst of flames, he hadn't even broken out in a sweat; although now he was starting to. In fact, his jumper was starting to catch flame at his elbow.
A second later, Hermione and Ron ere came through the door looking quite bedraggled. Hermione's hair was singed and shortened in patches. In her arms she clutched a bundle that appeared to be an infant. "Get out of here," she mouthed.
Harry looked around the heating room wildly, trying to figure out how to escape. He didn't see an opening. The baby in Hermione's arms wailed and squirmed, reaching for the wardrobe. The three looked at one another. Ron tried to hex back the flames, but the result was the same as Harry's-- they turned green and then blue.
Both of the baby's arms were reaching towards the cabinet. There was something peculiar about the child, something beyond the preternatural understanding of what was going on, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it. "The way out is through," he said, ignoring the echoes in the bubble. Between the infant's screams and the roar of the increasing fire, no one heard him. So Harry jumped into the wardrobe, knowing the others would follow if it was possible.
He tumbled back into the alleyway sunburned, scorched and smoky. Immediately, he ended the incantation giving him the bubble head. Hermione, Ron and the baby followed. Harry ended their Bubblehead spells and stood holding Hufflepuff's cup.
Harry set the cup down on the ground, and after a quick look around, he used a Diffendo hex to split the cup apart. Out if it came seven wisps of blue-grey smoke that fluttered into thin air. "The children…" Hermione said sadly.
Harry nodded and stared at the cup, something didn't seem right. "Hang on," said Harry, "if there were seven who died, but you saved one…"
He'd turned to ask Hermione about this when he saw a flash of scorpion tail. It lashed up and stung Hermione on the neck. She looked down at the bundle in her arms before she tipped backwards.
Though Harry had his wand out to hex the Manticore, Ron was the one to shout, "Avada Kedavra!" Harry raced to Hermione's fallen form, but Ron was already kicking the beast away. He grabbed her and held her tight against him. "St Mungo's," he advised Harry before he vanished with a loud crack, taking Hermione with him.
Harry stared at the small, dead Manticore's child-like face. He should've known there was a trick; a final, nasty surprise. Of course someone would've heard a child wailing and run to help. Voldemort never counted on friends.
He collected the remnants of the cup and sat them on its corpse. He wondered if he shouldn't take it all with him to St Mungos. You never knew what they might find useful. He grabbed the Virgin bag from his pocket, realizing when he found it pristine that he hadn't been so much as singed.
Bagging the creature and the cup, he stuffed the shirt itself into his pocket and Apparated to St Mungos.
--
He'd only been there a few hours, but it felt like weeks. Ron finally took a spot next to Harry, appearing haggard. "She'll pull through. They said it was good you brought the Manticore in. They have anti-venoms that they could use, but it's always better to derive it from the actual beast if you can. They say that makes the recovery faster."
"How long?" Harry sat, staring at the closed door to Hermione's room. He'd gone in to see her earlier, but he couldn't quite deal with seeing her immobilized like that, knowing it was his fault. All of those people around her bed in utter misery, including her parents and Ron? That was his fault, too.
"They say a week, maybe ten days if she got the full brunt of it. They said she's lucky to be alive after the venom, although since it was a baby, that helped." Ron rubbed his forehead and then looked at his hands in surprise. Harry figured he was just now discovering that he wasn't burnt.
"I guess we got the cup from his memory. Back in time? Or maybe like the Pensieve works? I'm sure Hermione could explain it better." Harry felt another sharp pang of guilt but tried to ignore it.
"That makes sense. In a weird way. Going back in time and memory, couldn't really affect someone physically in a memory. I guess that's why we're not burned up." Ron sat back against the chair and closed his eyes. "There's not much you can do here. You should probably go back and check on Malfoy."
"I should stay here with my friends," Harry looked determined, but he did feel worried about Draco.
Ron turned his head and half smiled. "We're your friends, Harry. We'll be your friends no matter what may come. You know we're with you. Besides," he said, turning his head back to stare at the ceiling, "there's nothing you can really do here."
Harry, touched by the words, felt his cheeks flush. He really did have the best friends anyone could have. "I can be moral support. Besides, everyone I love is here."
Exhaling, Ron smiled lazily. "Not everyone."
--
I should've worked harder to get them to let me stay, Harry thought as he popped a few blocks from the house on Spinner's End. He approached it cautiously, not sure what he'd be walking into, although part of him believed that to be a bit of paranoia on his part. That is, until he heard the wailing screams. He knew it wasn't Draco; while the cries sounded similar to Draco's lazy tenor, it didn't possess the same qualities as Draco's. However, he knew it was coming from that particular house. He ran the rest of the distance, stopped by something catching his arm. He felt a cold hand clamp over his face.
"Don't scream, Potter," the now familiar voice drawled.
Harry nodded his acquiescence. When the hand was removed, Harry whirled around and looked at Draco standing there in his maid's uniform. He frowned and tried to prevent his gaze from straying from Draco's face. "What's going on?"
"Pettigrew's being tortured." Draco folded his arms and then leaned back against the tree in an all -too familiar posture of defeat.
"Just Death Eater games or did he do something wrong?" Harry stepped closer and reached out to touch Draco's arm, pleasantly surprised when the other boy didn't recoil.
"He refused to go on a raid with them tomorrow night." Draco looked at Harry's hand on his arm, but said nothing. He just continued to stare.
Harry slid his fingers down Draco's arm to curl his fingers around one of Draco's hands. "Why would he do that?"
Draco turned his hand out and clasped his fingers around Harry's. "Because I don't think I can control him from far away with all of that dark magic floating around."
Nodding, but mostly thrilled that Draco was participating, he let himself smile. He brought his other hand up and wrapped them both around Draco's to warm it. "What reason did he give them?"
"That he's scared." Draco allowed Harry to take his hand and then looked up into his eyes.
"Is he?" Harry looked back at into his eyes.
"He's terrified."
Harry kept holding Draco's hand, but allowed the other arm to slide around his waist and pulled Draco closer. Draco rested his face against Harry's neck. "He doesn't have to be scared anymore. He's not alone."
Draco wrapped his arms tightly around Harry and let out a muffled sob. In return, Harry wrapped his other arm around Draco and patted his back. "Whatever may come."
Though it only seemed like seconds that they stood there in their embrace, the darkness that surrounded them told a different story. The front door to Snape's home opened, spilling warm lamplight into the darkness. The screaming had long since passed. Harry squinted at the tall robed man, a tuft of blond hair stuck out from under his hood. He recognized him from the tower battle.
"Oh Maaaaaalfoy," the man hollered.
Draco's arms tightened around Harry briefly and then he pulled back, looking into Harry's eyes. He gave him a wry smile and then caressed the side of Harry's face.
Catching his hand to press it against his cheek, Harry whispered, "Stay."
"I can't... my mum." Draco trailed his fingers down Harry's cheek to his neck.
It made Harry shiver, not just from the contact, but with the feeling of an inevitable and possibly permanent goodbye. "You can't go with them, they'll-- I'll protect you."
Draco dropped his hand and exhaled, "It's nice to think that you could, but you really can't."
"Of course I can." Harry grabbed Draco's arm before he could take step away.
"Don't be so arrogant. You can't solve everything. Let me go," Draco whispered back. He snatched his arm from Harry's grip and turned to leave.
"I AM NOT ARROGANT!" Harry shouted, whirling Draco around to face him.
The Death Eater on the porch drew his wand and peered shiftily in their direction. "Malfoy?"
Draco grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt and pulled into a last, desperate kiss before he shoved him away.
Startled, Harry tripped over his feet onto his back. The Death Eater on the porch and two behind him tore out of the house. Draco started to jog towards them; petticoat bouncing and flashing Harry the frilly knickers.
All Harry could think was, "No." Before he'd had time to make a real plan, his wand was out. "Accio Draco." He was surprised to find that it worked to summon people, but alarmed that the charm had no real sense of when to stop.
"What the hell, Potter?" shrieked Draco as he found himself astride Harry, his grey eyes distressed.
Harry had to act fast; the Death Eaters were nearly to them, already flinging hexes blindly in the gloom. He wrapped his arms around Draco and after a loud pop; they were lying in front of Grimmauld Place.
Draco looked around the Muggle street in horror. "You IDIOT!"