Chapter 13: One Step Closer...
One step closer to knowing,
One step closer to knowing.
U2
Notes:
Text in Bold, Italics: Diary entries from Flash, newspaper articles.
Text in Italics: (within a paragraph - thoughts or emphasis) Dreams, Letters, or Diary entries from Luc.
Apologies for this, but ff . net doesn't like anything more than the most basic of formatting.
April 15 - Tuesday
Harry's week had started off in such a promising way. The field trip with the trainees had gone extremely well, and Monday's classes had gone as planned. He was hoping that he could convince Claire to move him into a permanent training position, despite the negative reaction that idea had received back in head office. The trainees really seemed to like him, and responded well to his tutelage. He couldn't see why the higher-ups would deny him this opportunity.
A meeting with Gordon Bridgewater during lunch on Monday showed Harry just how out of touch the Aurors seemed to be with the current situation. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the reaction Gordon had when he expressed his concerns regarding the Neo Death Eaters. "Oh, not to worry, young man, that's being taken care of and will all be water under the bridge before you know it! Hahaha! Water! Under the Bridge!" He pointed to himself in his amusement, "Bridgewater! Hmmm!" Harry had merely stared in amazement. He couldn't believe anyone who ran a department of the Ministry of Magic could truly be so imbecilic. When he voiced his concern to Claire, she merely patted him on the shoulder, like a little boy, and suggested he keep doing his very best, and Gordon would eventually come around.
Harry went home with a distinct sense of déjà vu. Were these folks even more stupid than Fudge? After a couple of glasses of good wine and a quiet dinner of pasta and salad, Harry finally realised that nearly everyone in the Ministry – with the possible exception of Arthur – worked to their own agenda, and only took action if it affected their own personal goals. Am I any different for wanting to teach everyone? He thought about that for a while. No, I guess that I'm not. I'm doing it for the good of everyone else, not myself. Will they really care if I do quit? Will anyone really miss me?
Harry mulled through those thoughts until he dozed off on the couch. He tossed and turned all night, more so than usual. The sun was barely breaking over the horizon when he sat up with a start, sweat pouring from him. His scar throbbed for the first time in many, many years. Harry ran his hands through his hair as he shook the fog of pain from his mind. He was left with no doubt what his restless sleep indicated.
"Ah, fuck!" he crawled off the couch and struggled to the bathroom. Harry had been connected to Voldemort through his scar. Until he managed to successfully tackle Occlumency, his sleep had been troubled by dark magic. The sheer lack of dark magic since the end of the war had led Harry to forget to clear his mind before going to bed. Whatever the case, a severe amount of dark magic had been cast nearby some time during the night. It was the only possible explanation. The Neo Death Eaters had done something – something big, and Harry knew it.
With a renewed sense of urgency, Harry showered, and downed a quick headache potion with a cup of chamomile tea. Surely they wouldn't dismiss his help now, would they? He doubted Gordon would be so flippant if the Neo Death Eaters were causing mass havoc. He Apparated to work with a new sense of determination. Perhaps now they would make use of his skills and training.
The scene at the office was reminiscent of the buzz of activity during the height of the war. He looked over at the boards, curious as to who was assigned to the case. He wasn't surprised to find almost everyone was assigned to the new case. However, his temper flared as he saw two very surprising things on the board. He took a deep breath. It was time to have a rather frank discussion with Gordon.
Harry strode purposefully towards Gordon's office as he tried to keep his temper in check. He didn't hear Claire calling for him, but he flinched when she grabbed him in the hallway, a look of frazzled relief on her face.
"Oh Harry!" Claire was clearly flustered, "I'm so glad you're here!"
"What the fuck is going on out there, Claire?" Harry yelled. He didn't care if anyone heard him.
"I think we should discuss this in my office, Harry," she offered firmly.
"Fine!" he fumed as he followed her into her office. He slammed the door, not caring that the haphazard stacks of paper on her desk flew in all directions. Harry could feel his temper starting to lose a little bit of control.
"Harry, settle down, please," Claire pleaded.
"I won't! I don't understand, Claire... why have half the bloody trainees been sent to the scene, and I'm sitting in there with a red mark next to my name? What idiot said that I'm unfit for active duty?" Harry couldn't believe the red cross twinkling beside his name on the board. Every Auror dreaded the 'unfit for duty' mark, as it usually marked the death knell of any Auror's career. Harry had been dreading something like that happening, but seeing that they were sending half trained students instead just made him even more furious. "Do you have any idea just how bad it's going to be when they get there? Do they realise what those Neo Death Eaters did last night? I'd be surprised if half of them are even ready to face the scene."
Clare looked at Harry with rigid worry, "How... how do you know? Your clearance was revoked—"
"Did you conveniently forget about this, Claire?" Harry pointed out his scar, which was much clearer than it had been in years. "You forget about my built in barometer when Dark Magic is concerned. I wasn't just connected to Voldemort, you know," Claire winced at the name, but Harry continued "You all know that I can sense when extreme amounts of Dark Magic are being used. Do you honestly think I can just sit back when others sift through for remains of last night's activities? I can tell you exactly how many Cruciatus curses were wielded..." Harry stopped when he noticed the filing cabinet drawers opened spontaneously and the files exploded in an explosion of parchment and gold sparks.
"Oh shit," he cried. He hadn't noticed just how out of control he was. Claire just blinked and looked at him sadly.
"Harry, just calm down, please," she offered, but Harry could see that she was backing away. Harry mentally chastised himself for being so foolish. He had not practiced his control for a couple of days, and now he was spontaneously blowing up files and letting his temper get the better of him.
"It's... oh Merlin, Claire. I just can't stop thinking about how foolish everyone is. Yesterday Gordon was carrying on as if the Neo Death Eaters were a bunch of toilet exploding pranksters. Now he's telling me that I'm not to get involved..."
"He thinks you are too close to the case, Harry. That's all. Please don't take it personally. Although, I know he would be glad if you could prepare a report with what you know. That's about all you can do now." Claire spoke soothingly, but Harry could see the small touch of fear in her eyes. She knew just how dangerous an out of control Harry Potter could be.
"Sorry about your files, Claire. I'll sort them out," he took a deep breath, shaking his head.
"Harry, I don't know what's been going on with you. You've been taking so much time off, and all this out of control magic. I can fully understand why Gordon would say you're unfit for emergencies. Besides, we really need you here, Harry." Claire let out a small smile.
"You need me?" Harry repeated the words in mild disbelief. Only a few days earlier he'd been wondering if he was truly appreciated. As he calmed down, he could see some sense in why he would be deemed unfit for the case. He still didn't agree with the decision to send raw trainees to the scene of what he could only imagine was extreme carnage.
"Yes, Harry, we do need you!" Harry's hopes soared. Perhaps they really did appreciate his input. It wouldn't be too late for him to make an impact on the future Aurors.
"Why only yesterday Wiglesworth was crying out for help with his classes, Harry. I told him that you would be perfect to go and help him." Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. Wiglesworth was the Ministry's top trainer. Harry had admired his work, both when he was a student and since he had been working with the man as well. He tried hard to use as many of the man's ideas in his own classes. Perhaps things were looking up if Wiglesworth needed him. They must have finally realised that I'm more than competent. Maybe I'll be getting my own classes, he thought, hopeful for the future.
Claire must have mistaken his hesitation. He almost didn't hear what she said as he was so caught up in his own thoughts.
"—So he seemed relieved to know that you'll be there to supervise the larger class. He was thrilled that he could spend extra time with each student whilst you mark their tests and do all his filing – you know – all the stuff that would take his attention away from his students."
Harry couldn't help a wry smile as he felt his blood pressure being to rise. Of course. How could he be foolish enough to think these people would have suddenly come to appreciate what he had to offer. For just a moment Harry was reminded of his childhood with the Dursleys. Did they only see him as some sort of glorified house elf? Was all his training and experience only good for doing paperwork?
Harry's mulling and dithering finally began to coalesce into a firm decision. For days he'd been toying with the thought of resigning. They obviously couldn't see beyond his name, or the fact that he didn't complain when it came to paperwork. He had no future in the Ministry, and they certainly couldn't see his worth. He certainly didn't need the money, or the stress. For the first time in ages he felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. Luc had been right, he was worth so much more than these idiots would ever realise. He didn't deserve to feel trapped and useless, he'd had enough of that for one lifetime. It was time for Harry Potter to be his own man.
"I'm sorry Claire, but I don't think I'll be able to assist Mr Wiglesworth." Harry stood, a feeling of certainty was in his words. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For the first time in a long while, Harry was absolutely certain about what he was about to do.
Claire looked up in surprise, "Don't be silly, Harry. Of course this takes precedence over your normal work. It's such an honour that Arthur Wiglesworth even considered you to do this for him – it's a great honour to our branch here in Somerset." she didn't really understand what he was trying to say.
"No Claire, I don't think you understand. I'm through. I'm done with the lot of you."
"What are you saying, Harry?" Claire looked up from her paperwork in obvious confusion. She hadn't really been listening to him for the past few minutes.
Harry conjured a parchment and placed it right in front of her. "I'm saying that I'm resigning. Effective immediately. Seeing as I'm currently unfit for duty, I can't see how you could refuse."
Claire was thoroughly stunned. She shook her head, unsure she was hearing correctly.
"Don't worry, I'll clear my desk and be out of your hair before Gordon gets back." Claire was still in shock as Harry turned and walked down the hall. Nobody noticed as Harry packed a small box of his personal belongings and Apparated away.
Of course, that decision seemed rash and foolhardy an hour later as he paced in front of the fireplace back home. Harry had tried several times to calm down, but was not being terribly successful. He had warded his Floo, not really in any mood to debate his decision with Gordon. Someone – Gordon no doubt – had been eagerly trying to call him the whole time. He had even closed all the windows to avoid the owls that were beginning to hoot and holler outside.
His pacing was erratic as he furiously went from deep concern to complete apathy about his job – former job. Hermione had been right all those years ago. He really did have a 'helping people' thing. He couldn't help but worry about the Neo Death Eaters and what they had been up to. Harry was itching to make someone see sense and realise the depth of the danger they posed to society. These were undoubtedly some of the higher ranked fugitives who were assembling in an attempt to reclaim some of their former glory.
Looking around, he saw no reason why he should stay in the flat. He felt stifled. Harry needed to find himself before he could move on. Somerset meant nothing to him. The flat was just a place – full of memories surely – but Harry could see no future there. He was completely uncertain where he would go, or what he would do, but he knew that he needed to cut ties with this town and get on with his life. He recalled his earlier plans to move to London, and smiled.
Harry unblocked the Floo as he attempted to make a few calls of his own. There was no answer on the first couple of calls, but he finally got through when he tried to talk to Albus Dumbledore.
"Harry!" the Headmaster's smile was genuine. "I was wondering when you might call. I understand you've caused a little stir down in Somerset." His words didn't surprise Harry – he assumed the news would get around the grapevine fairly quickly, but he sensed no judgement coming from his old mentor.
"I'm sure you've already heard all the details, sir. I just need to get away from here for a while. I can't put up with the Ministry and their blindness any longer. I honestly don't know how you can stand it, sir. All these years. I hope they don't let it get out of hand again."
"I think that's a wise idea. Don't worry about the Ministry, Harry. I'm sure that Rufus Scrimegour and our new Minister will stop the rot before it gets out of hand."
Harry nodded. "I nearly lost it again today. I had a bad night last night. I, er, haven't done any Occlumency in ages and I think I felt every dark curse. I... it hasn't felt that bad since the war. Ah, Merlin, I feel so bad. I just..." Harry faltered, not wanting to think what would happen next if the Neo Death Eaters got the better of the Aurors.
"Harry, you have to stop taking everything personally. Yes, it's bad, but it really isn't your fight. Do you really want to be back in the thick of things? You told me yourself you were quite happy to never get involved again," even through the Floo Harry could see Dumbledore look at him over the top of his half-moon glasses.
He nodded reluctantly. "I know. But I just can't help wanting to get involved. There are Death Eaters out there and it's not over. At least they want to stir up a pot that's long forgotten. Why can't they leave well enough alone?" Harry sighed with frustration over his own conflicted thoughts.
"I'm not focussed, sir. I really need to get away. I have to regain my focus. I, er, nearly lost complete control again when I was in Claire's office. Even if I don't fight these Neo Death Eaters, I have to learn to control my own reactions to their dark magic."
"That's a wise decision, Harry. Where will you go?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"I... hmmm," a sudden thought struck Harry. He hadn't thought about the man in years, but suddenly the thought of controlling his errant magic made him think of an old tutor, one who taught much of what he now needed. Harry couldn't remember the last time he even thought about Lao Kuai, but he knew that he needed to seek the man's guidance if he were to regain his focus. "Sir, do you know where I might find Lao Kuai?" Harry asked.
The headmaster smiled, "Don't worry, Harry. He's already expecting you. I'd suggest you pack light." Harry only raised an eyebrow. Of course Dumbledore was always one step ahead of Harry, and he learned years ago to never be surprised at the old wizard's foresight.
Harry smiled in return, "So where am I going?"
Sitting under the blue-tinted light of the full moon, Harry closed his eyes and relaxed into the moment. He hadn't been at all surprised to find Lao Kuai waiting for him after he took the Portkey Dumbledore provided him. It had only taken Harry a few minutes to magically pack his entire flat into a few boxes. The headmaster offered to look after Harry's belongings whilst he decided the next direction in his life. He also promised to keep Remus and Hermione informed of Harry's whereabouts.
He wasn't surprised that Lao Kuai was back home in China. Hainan Island, just outside of Sanya, to be precise. Although he had been surprised to find himself invited to stay in the venerable old wizard's own home on the southern-most tip of the small island off China's southern coast. It was indeed a world away and after just one day, Harry already felt his focus returning. The warm weather was a significant change to England, quite unlike anything Harry had experienced before. The closest he had come had been his recent time in the south of France.
Despite their similar ages, Lao Kuai and Albus Dumbledore were like chalk and cheese. Harry had very quickly reacquainted himself with the firm taskmaster's expectations. Despite nearly a whole day of physically tiring exercises, he sat – lotus position – on the soft sand of the beach as the sun set and the moon rose. Breathing in the cool sea air, Harry began tapping into the earth underneath him and the water crashing in front of him. He smiled as he finally reached that calm centre deep within. How could he have ever doubted his decision? Of course it had been the right thing to do. For the first time in many months, Harry affirmed that he had done the right thing in resigning, albeit with a little external prompting.
As the days went by, Harry began to re-associate himself with the subtleties of Eastern magics and was pleased to recognise the slowly building control that was returning with time. As he planted his bare feet firmly in the sand and assumed Eagle Stance to begin his T'ai Chi exercises, his mind cleared and his worries eased. He knew he had needed this desperately, the soothing sensation, the simple control… it surprised him just how quickly he felt better. He was calmer and focused which gave him a little more confidence.
He had been worried that his troubles might have been medical, and had even considered contacting Hermione about it, but the isolation and regular tutelage of Lao Kuai was doing him a world of good. The peace he felt within was a signal to him that he had finally reached that place of control which meant he was no longer in danger of losing his temper and actually hurting someone. He would just have to continue these practices on his own once he returned to Europe.
After only four days, both Harry and Lao Kuai felt that Harry had made great progress. For the first time in his life, Harry realised that he would need to do these exercises for the remainder of his life. In the words of Lao Kuai, he had been gifted with great magic and it was his responsibility to keep that 'gift' under control. Lao Kuai had related it to riding a tiger, and how important it was to hold on and not let the tiger take control. Harry smiled. He had forgotten just how that control could help with those other urges that had risen at the same time as his uncontrollable magic. Harry still felt as horny as ever, but he managed to resist the urge to wank during every waking moment.
Harry smiled and blushed somewhat at Lao Kuai's lecture about the relationship between his magic and his sexual urges. That had certainly been a revelation. He would have certainly remembered that lecture if Lao Kuai had chosen to tell him about it when he was seventeen. Now all he needed was a willing partner to share his new found knowledge with. He was sure Luc would get a kick out of it when Harry told him. Some of the positions to focus the mind and energy were positively wicked and he looked forward to trying them out.
By Saturday, Harry was feeling so much better that he decided to relax in other ways. The landscape had provided ample opportunity for Harry to take many pictures to add to his collection. The markets had been crowded, and his translation charms a little rusty, but Harry found the stalls fascinating. The stalls were ripe with everything from fresh fish and produce, to herbs and a myriad of other indescribable and seemingly inedible items. Harry had no real idea what he had actually purchased, but he had been pressured into a few of the purchases by the insistent market sellers.
His self imposed isolation had been exactly what he needed now that he had regained control, but after seeing a rather exquisite looking book, he was reminded of Hermione, and knew it was time to contact his friends back home.
Hermione would be proud of him for taking the initiative in regaining his control in such a responsible manner. He knew that she could understand the ghosts of his past that still haunted him, and the hurdles he had overcome in stepping forward like this to capture that control once again. He poured himself a cup of plum wine and took a small sip as he made himself comfortable in front of the fire. A flash of Floo powder and a few words, and there was Hermione's familiar smiling face.
"Harry!" Hermione seemed genuinely relieved to see him. "It's so good to hear from you. Is it true that you quit the Aurors? Are you all right? Where are you? Professor Dumbledore said you were safe and well, but as usual, he gave us no details. What have you been doing? But more importantly, when are you coming back?"
Harry couldn't help the laughter; it was rare to see Hermione in such a state of excitement that she couldn't wait for the answer to a question. "Completely true, I'm fine, in China, yes Dumbledore is completely vague, I've been with Lao Kuai regaining my focus and I don't know yet."
"Oh, he helped you a lot in seventh year, that's good. Has it helped?" She nodded approvingly.
"Immensely. How are you and Ron doing?" He had neglected his friends for so long; it felt good to reconnect, even from half a world away.
"Not bad. Ron's his usual self – running around in his secretive way with his work. I was expecting it to be quiet whilst the students are on holidays, but I've just been busy this afternoon helping Poppy. Madame Hooch had a near fall from her broom, and we've decided that she shouldn't be flying again until after the baby is born. Of course, she's not very happy about that, so it's been a bit of a struggle to keep her calm and force her to listen to us."
"Oh, I forgot that she was pregnant. Is everything all right?" he asked in genuine concern. Harry had fallen off his broom enough times to know the danger. He could only begin to imagine how that might affect an unborn child.
"Oh, they are both fine," Hermione waved casually, "it's just a precaution for the future safety of the child, you know. The trouble is Dumbledore's talking about cancelling the rest of the Quidditch season and she's determined to make sure that doesn't happen."
Harry took another sip of his plum wine as he listened, but nearly spat it out at the horrid notion that Quidditch could be cancelled. That hadn't happened since the Tri-Wizard tournament and he hated to think of an unfinished Quidditch season now. "Wh-why would they do that?"
"Because there's no one to replace Madame Hooch on such short notice. She'll be grounded for the remainder of the school term, and there's no one else here who's even remotely qualified to take over that position."
"I'll do it!" The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think about them, but he knew immediately that he meant them. It seemed that fate was pointing him to a possible new career, even if it only was for a couple of months. The idea of combining teaching with his love of flying and Quidditch was more than appealing. He missed the cunning smile on Hermione's face before she asked him to wait just a moment while she called for the Headmaster.
In what seemed like an inordinately short amount of time, Harry had been officially offered the position of temporary flying instructor and Quidditch coach. Even though it would be Easter Sunday, Harry was only too happy to Floo to Hogwarts the next morning to meet with Dumbledore, his new employer, and begin to get settled before the students returned from their break.
Draco woke with a start as the wailing of a banshee drove him out of his slumber. He sat up quickly, responding instinctively to the sudden noise. He immediately regretted it as a thrumming pounded in his head and the bright daylight pierced through his bloodshot eyes. He fell back against the pillow and sighed deeply, instinctively grappling for his wand on the bedside table and silencing the piercing noise with a short, sharp jab. It was way too early to be awake, especially for a Sunday.
Bollocks – I forgot how annoying that wakeup wailer is. The resulting quiet was more deafening, as the residual wails reverberated through his very delicate head. Surely I didn't drink that much last night – I couldn't have. So much for that resolution, he snorted.It took quite a while to pull himself up and make his way to the kitchen. There was no doubt he was in need of a Sobrietus Potion if the severity of the hangover was any indication. He could not recall a party he had enjoyed more – not in a very long time. It had certainly been the fine send-off from Paris he had imagined, even if he hadn't been the centre of attention.
Why did I promise Severus I would be there today? Ugh! His head was still pounding from excessive quantities of wine and whatever else managed to pass his lips at the ball. If he had not promised Severus he would be in London to escort the students on the Hogwarts Express, he would have made the Sobrietus, and headed straight back to bed until a more respectable hour. Honestly, it's Sunday – and it's too bloody early to be awake. His knee also took the opportunity at that moment to twinge in protest at the memory of the previous night's excessive dancing. He pondered making a mild analgesic potion at the same time.
It took only a moment's confusion at the empty kitchen to realise that he no longer had the facilities to brew anything. All his cauldrons and equipment had been packed, and were well on their way to Hogwarts. For that matter, even if he could transfigure a cauldron, all his ingredients and stores were safely packed and gone as well. "Oh bloody bollocking hells!" he cursed and chastised his lack of forethought in having packed everything. Why today, of all days? Of course, now all he craved was something to stop the headache and quell the nausea.
Unfortunately his well determined resolution to abstain from drinking had lasted until about five minutes after he met Arianna's father. It had been an interesting and unforgettable night – one he doubted that Gabriel Le Roux would forget either.
Arianna had cunningly neglected to mention to her father that it was Draco Malfoy escorting her to the ball, and the French Minister was nigh on apoplectic to find the well heeled, yet infamous wizard accompanying his only daughter. Arianna's timing was impeccable, and their introductions were made just as the media surged forward to talk to the Minister, thus distracting him from the imminent and embarrassing confrontation. Of course, his manner didn't fail to hide his bristling anger at his daughter's impertinence. Draco recognised the man's barely repressed shock behind the false platitudes and smiles he gave to the reporters.
Again, Lucius' reach had stretched farther than Draco had anticipated. Living in Paris, Draco had avoided the aftermath of his father's deeds, but Gabriel Le Roux had a long memory. After Voldemort's initial defeat, Lucius sought to extend his political influence further a field. Draco knew his father had had dealings with the French Minister, and he also knew of the man's intense dislike for his father's overt political machinations. It was no surprise that Arianna's father was having a hard time separating Draco from that power hungry man. Here we go again, he thought as he pulled every ounce of charm out of his considerable repertoire to appease the man.
The Minister had little love for Lucius, and Draco could easily see the man thought he was made from the same mould. Rising to the challenge, Draco went about proving that the only thing they had in common was a name. Draco wooed everyone he met, flawlessly stepping into the role of the head of a long renowned pure-blood family. He treated the pure-blood traditions with the respect they deserved, putting aside some of his distaste during the evening. He escorted Arianna as she was 'presented' to the gathered guests, and to society as a whole. He even put aside his own discomfort to dance with her, albeit not terribly well, and garnering sympathy for his 'war injury' along the way. He played the part of the perfect gentleman with aplomb – wooing everyone from the youngest witches to the eldest matron.
Much to his chagrin, Arianna kept him from letting his eye rove over the assembly of available male guests, but he kept his focus on having a good time with Arianna. Not that it stopped him from occasionally indulging in the passing eye candy. He was honestly having a great time helping his friend and immersing himself in the role of well heeled young pureblood that he was. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed being in such company, but he watched carefully and saw the polite veneer of many of the guests as they spoke with him. He knew it would always be like this – the mistrust and doubt would follow his every move. Even here in the highest echelon of French pure-blood society they would always associate him with his father. What do I have to do to prove to them that I am not my bloody father?
He had needed just a small amount of Dutch courage to sustain his pleasant demeanour when he would want nothing better than to tell them all that they were all mistaken. He had to prove it to them, and helping his dear friend dodge the unwanted advances of those foppish young bachelors was what he would do. He was not unused to this sort of behaviour from society, but with the help of a few drinks he managed to forget and play the role he intended that evening. After all, it was only a few people giving him that look of disdain, and he really didn't want to let them spoil his fun. He would have to prove his worth to these fools and idiots. Better get into practice, after all, I'll be doing this all over again once I get back to England.
Draco quickly lost count of his drinks after so many toasts, and his resolution was long forgotten. Still, it had not been in vain, and he had still managed to show Arianna's father (and any other doubters) that he was certainly not the same man as his father. Gabriel Le Roux had ended the night in a completely different type of shock from that he started with. His original scepticism was replaced with respect for his daughter's young friend.
Seeing that his daughter was in rather capable and competent hands (Draco had assured Mr Le Roux that he would never compromise his daughter's virtue), the old man left the younger partygoers to their own devices. Their plan had been a success! The foppish suitors were long forgotten, and the stylish younger set partied until the wee hours of Sunday morning.
Of course, by the time Draco and Arianna were sipping coffee in the quiet back room of Emmaline's, Arianna was beaming from ear to ear. Emmaline had asked Draco to watch over the store whilst she visited friends for the Easter weekend, so he had the keys.
"I can't thank you enough, Draco! You have been the perfect friend and escort," she seemed a little depressed now that the euphoria of the party was over.
"Shhh, you asked me to help, remember? Are you sure you're going to be all right now? I mean, your father isn't going to be pressuring you in any way, is he?" Draco was concerned for her immediate future – especially now that he was heading to Scotland. She had become a close friend over the past months, and he was honestly going to miss her. He didn't doubt that her father would be back to pressuring her into marriage the minute he was no longer in sight. "You father seemed curious as to my intentions towards you. That was an interesting conversation," he raised his eyebrow as he recalled their awkward chat. "Of course, now he has no concerns that I would sully your virtue," Draco fluttered his eyebrows melodramatically and Arianna burst into a fit of giggles.
"I think you managed to put father in his place, at least for a while. I wouldn't worry, Draco. I think tonight has shown him that I can make some decisions for myself, even if we nearly gave him a heart attack!" she hugged Draco tightly. "Oh, I'm going to miss you. Are you sure you really have to go?" she asked, knowing the futility of her question.
He sighed in regret and nodded. He took Arianna in his arms, giving her a marvellous bear hug, kissing her chastely on the forehead. "I'm really going to miss the opportunity to ogle those marvellous breasts. Why didn't you have any gorgeous brothers with cute arses I could ogle instead?"
Arianna slapped him playfully. "Get out of here you great drama queen!" Her manner quickly changed and she became serious. "You know, I am being serious, Draco. You didn't have to do that for me tonight, but you did it anyway, and you did it so well, even I almost believed you! I don't think you realise just how wonderful you are, Draco. You have so much to give. The guy who manages to snaffle you up will be the luckiest guy on the planet, and I for one will slap down the next guy who breaks your heart."
Draco's mood suddenly darkened at the thought of his unsuccessful love life. He didn't want to think about his last failure. Jean-Paul was still too fresh to remember, and he had to hold himself back several times in the last few days to stop himself Flooing back to Marrakesh. "I don't know Ari," he sighed. "Perhaps I'm just meant to be alone. I mean, why do I keep making so many mistakes? How do I know this move back to Scotland isn't another mistake?" Draco hadn't meant to tell Arianna of his uncertainty, but the alcohol was now doing the talking in the maudlin early hours of the morning.
"Don't you dare think that of yourself, Draco." Arianna put her cup down and put her hand over his. She was being sincere. "You will find your Mr Right. I don't doubt that for a minute. You have to believe that. You never know, you might even find him back in the UK. Don't underestimate yourself – and don't you dare hole yourself up and be Mr Antisocial. I know you don't really want to go to Scotland, but don't close yourself off if the opportunity for romance arises."
Draco rolled his eyes. "You know, between you and Emmaline wanting to help me, you'd think I could find someone. Even though it didn't turn out with her nephew..." he sighed, "I guess that wasn't meant to be." Draco seemed a little sad about that, but in the end he realised he wanted more than what he could get from Jean-Paul. Even if he still ached to be around the man. "But because you asked so nicely, I'll promise that if a nice, hot English boy comes my way, I won't cower into my cauldron and hide away. Although I think the chances of that happening at Hogwarts are pretty slim."
"Hmmm," Arianna seemed thoughtful, but didn't say any more, "We all love you very much Draco, and you'll always have a place in our hearts back here. Please don't become a bitter and twisted old man. We couldn't forgive ourselves if that were the case." Draco nodded reluctantly at her words. He still found it hard at times when people admitted that they did see past his barriers and tap into who he truly was. Flash was like that too.
Draco felt a yawn threatening and tried, but failed, to hide it. "If I don't get a decent sleep, I'll never get to London in time to stand in that bloody ridiculous queue at the Ministry." Once admitting his weariness, his body automatically rebelled and he suddenly felt extremely weary as he could not control a series of deep yawns.
"Well then, you'd better set yourself a wakeup wailer, hadn't you?" Arianna hugged him again, returning his kiss affectionately as they said their goodbyes. He was truly going to miss her, and everything else about his new found life in Paris. He vowed in that moment that he would indeed come back.
Draco was feeling somewhat more alive after hauling himself out of the shower and gratefully remembering the emergency box of potions in his travel trunk. The headache tonic, followed by a Pepperup Potion wasn't the best hangover solution, but it was all Draco could get his hands on. He couldn't even ask Emmaline to do the charm for him, as she would be out of town for a few days. Draco remembered their rather sad and awkward goodbyes the evening before. He was going to miss Emmaline even more than he would care to admit. She had been a constant figure in his recent life, and he would miss her soothing and motherly presence.
His movements were excruciatingly slow as he avoided anything too sudden. He still didn't know how Muggles could live without magical means of ridding themselves of a hangover, but he was building up more respect for them with each passing moment.
By the time it came for Draco to actually leave his studio - and leave Paris - he found himself reluctant to do so. His travel trunk was the last of his belongings to remain with him. The bed he'd slept in was part of the original furniture and he truly missed his own bed. All his personal belongings had been packed and shipped to Hogwarts. The Elf Express expatriation and removal service had been there on Friday, and Draco had been pleased with the job they did in moving his belongings.
The elves were extremely thorough and very eager to please such a well paying client (Draco was at least pleased that the cost of the move was covered by his apprenticeship contract – he couldn't bear to think of the cost to his own dwindling funds). Unfortunately in their eagerness, they became a little overzealous and had managed to move the bathtub and toilet before he realised what they were doing. Draco quietly took the head elf aside and mentioned that the fixtures of the studio had to remain behind. He had to stifle a laugh as he assured the elf that yes, Hogwarts was well equipped with bathing facilities – facilities he was looking forward to using again. His furniture had been packed and he wondered momentarily at the lack of witty and excitable commentary from the silent mirror on the wall. The studio's original furniture had been brought up from to basement to once again inhabit the nearly empty studio. Draco was not used to Muggle mirrors, but upon looking at his reflection, he knew only too well what his own mirror would be saying about his rather sour disposition.
Looking over the studio in one lasting moment, he stopped as memories of the past three years in the studio came rushing back. He could still vividly recall the first moment he stepped into the quaint studio, soaking up the atmosphere of the light and airy room. He recalled every success, and failure of his research in the cramped kitchen. Looking back over the bed, he could not fail to recall the best, and worst of the memories he shared with each of his lovers, even those he would rather forget. The slight frown at the bitter memory of Ginny Weasley was enough to pull him out of his sentimental mood.
He really couldn't stomach any food, but anticipating a hellishly long wait at the British Ministry, he knew he would have to eat something, for fear of passing out. Goodness knows what they would do with him if that happened. He wouldn't put it past them to shuffle him off to Azkaban – after all – didn't they all suspect him of being a Death Eater? It was going to be hell just being back in the United Kingdom. Best not think about it just yet.
He was bitterly disappointed he couldn't have one last Emmaline made coffee on his last morning in Paris. In fact he couldn't find any store open, not a single café. He ventured further, and eventually came to a garishly lit store just outside the Wizard quarter, in the Muggle precinct. The coffee was vile, and the ham and cheese croissant was overcooked and flat – not that he could really taste it. The overly bright neon lights were not helping his headache, and he again wondered how Muggles coped with their own hangovers. He didn't doubt they would have some pharmaceuticals that would assist them, but Draco knew the risks involved with Wizards using Muggle drugs. How many times do I have to vow to never drink again?
There was still one more errand before he was ready to take the Floo journey to London. Petite Amie had mysteriously disappeared the day the elves had arrived, and she had not been seen since. Draco had searched high and low, as had Emmaline, but the cat was nowhere to be found. Emmaline had suggested perhaps that the cat knew of the imminent move, and had no intention of leaving her home city.
"Promise me that if you find her again, you'll look after her, Emmaline?" Draco asked desperately the night before. He never realised just how much he had become attached to the tabby cat. Despite her haughty airs, and her regular disappearances, Draco had become quite accustomed to having her around. He couldn't bear to entertain the thought that perhaps the cat had been caught in the move, and was now sitting in a transfigured box somewhere at Hogwarts. She would not take too kindly to that at all.
He made one final desperate search for the errant animal, but to no avail. No Emmaline, and no cat. He didn't have Melchett either, having sent the owl off with a letter advising Severus he would be on the train Monday to escort the students back to Hogwarts.
Draco had been surprised by Severus' request a few days earlier. He was concerned by a number of small news stories appearing in the Muggle and Wizarding press. Draco knew the man better than to question his concern. Apparently these stories showed the Neo Death Eaters were starting to show their true colours – even if Severus was the only one to recognise them as the culprits. Severus suspected that a train full of mostly Muggle-born students could present a target too good to pass up, and Draco agreed with his assessment. He was only too happy to provide some form of protection for the students, even if they were oblivious to the possibility of the inherent dangers.
Double checking the studio for any forgotten items, he glanced at the new apprentice robes atop the other items in his trunk. He winced at the idea of having to wear the unrelieved black robes, but knew that it was only the least of his sacrifices in taking this road in his future. His own robes of deep plum with the fawn shirt and plum waistcoat were new, but helped him to feel a little better. He would hang on to the last little freedom from those detested robes as long as possible. He smiled as he could imagine Flash's response to his sentimentality. Somehow he could picture his friend's words when he told of his sadness at leaving his new home.
Pulling his fob watch from his pocket, he saw that it was well past time to get to London. With one final sigh, he closed the latch on his trunk, and cast a few protective charms on it as he levitated it into the fireplace. He would have loved to shrink his luggage, but he would no doubt have to open it for inspection at the International Wizard Lounge once he arrived at the British Ministry. Besides, he was carrying a few ingredients which reacted badly to any form of transfiguration, and these were packed carefully at the bottom of his trunk. There were some things he just wouldn't trust to the magic of the House Elves. He was stoic as he quickly Flooed away, not wanting another long and drawn out moment to regret his departure.
As he suspected, the queue at the Ministry entrance was longer than when he last came to London. Merlin knew why anyone would willingly come to London – the weather was atrocious. The glum and gloomy rain outside could not have been more in contrast with the bright and sunny morning he just left behind in Paris. He sighed heavily, causing more than just a few stares from the others waiting patiently in the queue. He leaned heavily on his levitating trunk for support as he settled in for the long wait. To pass the time, he brought out the newspaper he bought with his breakfast back in Paris. His headache prevented him from reading it earlier but now he had nothing better to do, so it would keep him from hexing everything in sight in his boredom.
Le Prophète Quotidien was not the European wizarding world's most fastidious source of news, but it was sure easy to read when he was not in the mood for highbrow discussion. A familiar photo on the front page made him curious, and he reluctantly put on his reading glasses.
It was most disconcerting to find his own face plastering the front page of the Paris press, but there he was, happily grinning whilst dancing with Arianna at her birthday ball. Draco had forgotten that there had been reporters at the ball.
Miss Le Roux was amiably accompanied by a very special friend, Mr Draco Malfoy; war veteran and heir to the Malfoy Estate. A recent graduate of l'Institut, Mr Malfoy will soon take up residence in Scotland at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as an Apprentice Potions master.
He wondered just how they would know about his apprenticeship, and raised an eyebrow at the wording of the article. Very special friend? He smirked at the realisation that their ruse had worked. If this didn't dissuade any suitors from courting her, then nothing would. He hoped that Arianna's father would stop hounding her to get married. He knew that helping her had been the right thing to do. Flash would be so pleased, he thought. I helped a friend for no personal gain!
Merlin and Morgana, don't these social pages have anything better to report on? He had soon forgotten the picture and scanned the rest of the page for anything remotely interesting. Looking up, he could see the queue had barely moved. It was going to be a very long wait.
The line eventually moved, but Draco was still a long way from being at the front of the queue. He barely looked at the rest of the social pages and completely skimmed over the Quidditch section. Draco usually avoided the Quidditch, but it seemed all anyone talked about was the shocking career ending injury to some French national player. Everyone in Paris had been talking about Lucas Fournier, and even Draco knew the talented player's career had been ended by one bludger too many. He could sympathise with the man's injuries, but couldn't muster any further sympathy.
The elderly witch in front of him had finished with her copy of The Daily Prophet, and she kindly offered it to him. A snippet of text caught his eye as he flicked through the pages. He turned back quickly, desperately hoping he had misread the quote.
Disturbing scenes rocked the quiet Muggle village of Porlock, Somerset, in the early hours of Tuesday morning. In scenes reminiscent of those from the height of the war, an entire street of Muggles was found to have been tortured and murdered, their homes burned to the ground in an obvious copycat Death Eater attack. Muggle authorities have explained away the incident as a gas main explosion. According to them, the main gas line exploded, causing a chain reaction to all the homes connected to the main line.
Further investigations reveal that the deceased bodies showed injuries consistent with long term magical torture. More than one body showed signs of having been held under the Cruciatus curse for extended periods of time. All extremist groups have denied all knowledge of the atrocities in Porlock.
No official statement has been released by the Auror Division, but reports in the Muggle press show Muggle eyewitnesses reporting dazzling green lights clearly visible prior to the main explosion.
Ministry sources have denied reports of a cloud in the shape of a skull sighted hovering above homes on the evening in question. In what appears to be a Ministry cover-up, the facts of this report were vehemently denied when this reporter approached the local chief Auror, Gordon Bridgewater.
"Those claims are complete nonsense. Death Eater attacks? Don't be ridiculous. If the Muggles say it was a gas explosion, who are we to disagree? The Dark Mark has not been seen since the defeat of You-Know-Who by this department's own Harry Potter, nearly three years ago. How could this be a Death Eater attack? That group doesn't exist any more. The Muggles who claim to have seen the green lights and the skull were only teenagers, and we all know how prone to exaggeration they are, especially when they think it will give them some attention."
No official statement has been made by the head of Magical Law Enforcement. The Minister for Magic was also unavailable for comment.
Draco hovered over the words 'Death Eaters'. A cold chill crept up the back of his neck. It couldn't really be happening again – could it? Severus is right, they are becoming bolder in their plans. Damn! For a while, the whole notion of the Neo Death Eaters seemed a little unreal, despite the fact they were probably spending up big on the money they swindled from him. Had they been this prominent in the local news? Seeing the evidence for himself brought it closer to home. Damn! Draco really needed to pay more attention to the news from now on. He sobered quickly enough as he realised the importance of his presence on the Hogwarts Express.
His anger simmered over the embezzlement, and as he turned the page, it heightened to all out fury as he was confronted by a half page photograph of Harry Potter. Draco sneered at the candid shot of Potter kneeling before a young fan and signing an autograph. Draco didn't have to wait long for the prat to provide the girl with a winning smile. She was besotted and looked up at her hero in utter adoration. Draco scoffed. I'm not even in the bloody country proper, and Potter's already annoying me with his existence. Still, it's good to see the git finally conversing with someone his own mental age, he thought uncharitably. He had conveniently forgotten the English media's fascination for all things Potter, and frowned accordingly. In his disgust, he tossed the paper aside, missing the rubbish bin by a few inches. The newspaper seemed affronted by this ill treatment, and carefully folded upon itself before lifting up and diving straight into the bin. Draco rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long three years of hell if he was to be confronted with Potter's face in every newspaper.
He tried to find a modicum of quiet as he continued to wait in the queue, but concerns about the Neo Death Eaters continued to plague him. He knew that when he finally caught them, they would be begging for mercy. Nobody fucked over a Malfoy, not ever. He might have been careless enough to let them steal from under his nose, but did these fools forget that Draco had been trained by the best? Even though he was a spy, he had been trained as a Death Eater, and undoubtedly knew more about revenge and torture than many others. Lucius' teachings might actually come to some good use after all.
He was soon lost in a daydream of revenge. The others in the queue were concerned by the evil smirk that adorned his face as he leaned on his cane and feigned sleep.
Three hours later, a fuming and very wet Draco stormed into the Wandering Warlock in Diagon Alley Seeing the fury on his guest's face, the concierge led Draco to his room immediately. A rush of air followed the savage slamming of the door as Draco entered and sank gratefully into the chair by the fireplace. He threw his cane in anger and it cluttered harmlessly as it came to rest not far from the hearth. Bloody idiots.
It had been as Draco suspected. The Ministry had taken a keen interest in Draco's arrival in the country, and accordingly treated him with the usual disdain and suspicion he had expected. After declaring his name and surrendering his wand for inspection, the seemingly disgruntled security wizard looked up sharply, immediately recognising Draco. The man then made a terrible farce of trying to get Draco to step aside – claiming that a full inspection of his trunk was standard procedure for all wizards returning to the United Kingdom.
He had been isolated in a magic free room whilst a pair of spotty young security wizards took his trunk. They then proceeded to leave him alone for a whole hour as they no doubt searched every compartment in his trunk. He really wished he had gone through with earlier plans of placing hexes on it – no doubt they were expecting him to do something like that.
The ignorant cretins didn't even think to offer him a cup of tea. Being in a magic free room was distressing enough – but being left without so much as something to drink was just deplorable manners. He didn't care if it tasted like decomposing dish water – they could have at least made the offer. Still, he didn't let that time go to a complete waste as he quelled his anger long enough to sit and rest his eyes quietly. He was glad for the respite, as he was not expecting the interrogation that followed. The pair of spotty youths turned out to be Aurors, and they grinned in their obvious delight at finding a small wrapped package which they threw carelessly on the table.
"Mr Malfoy, are you aware of the contents of this package?"
"Of course, I packed it. It's raw aconite. You should be careful with that," he offered.
"You admit to being in possession of this item?" the spottier security wizard asked incredulously.
"Yes." Draco replied shortly as they gave each other a knowing look.
The more senior of the two wizards spoke. "I'm afraid, Mr Malfoy, that we shall have to confiscate this, and the remainder of your luggage for further inspection."
"What? On what grounds?" Draco couldn't understand what was wrong with his bringing in a package of aconite. He knew he had a lot worse ingredients in his bags, but nothing that was unstable, or illegal. He wasn't stupid enough to do that. Besides, he had managed to offload what few illicit items he had owned before he left.
"You are aware, Mr Malfoy, that aconite is a 'Ministry Controlled Substance'. All purchase and supply of such a dangerous substance must be made with Ministerial approval. I'm afraid that we must take it, and in light of this breach of policy, we are required to confiscate and search the remainder of your belongings for any other illicit substances. This is not a trivial offence." The taller wizard seemed to be nervous as he spoke to the former Death Eater – with very good reason.
Draco was livid. How could the Ministry try to control the supply of something like Aconite? "Since when has it been illegal to bring aconite into the country? What's next – boomslang?" he asked sarcastically.
"Aconite is a potentially deadly substance, Mr Malfoy..."
"I am aware of that," his simmering ire exploded and he stood, knocking his chair back. "I am returning to this god forsaken country to finish my Potions apprenticeship and I need..." the second security wizard interrupted his tirade.
"You'll still have to register your interests with the Ministry, and a controlled supply of aconite will be provided to you if suitable grounds for use can be proven," he replied smartly.
Draco could not believe the Ministry's stupidity. Why would they want to control aconite? It was the major ingredient in the Wolfsbane potion. If he had to go through some stupid paperwork just to get his hands on some every month, it would be a nightmare. This was going to have a serious impact on his research. Not to mention my bloody Gringotts balance. No doubt they've also set the price, and I bet it's a lot higher than it is back home.
It took another half hour of heated discussion, but the young security wizards would not back down. His luggage was to be searched for any more illicit ingredients, and fines issued for attempted 'smuggling'. The Auror division would also be notified. Draco could not believe their audacity. One mistake was not a case of smuggling. He could sense the young security wizards were pleased at their find, and they took their time as they painstakingly went through every compartment of the trunk.
Draco managed to keep his anger from exploding under a cool demeanour during this humiliating process, but soon realised that this was what life was going to be like now that he was back in the land of the living hell. Thank you, father, for your everlasting legacy.
Of course, by the time he left, he was so infuriated and humiliated that he never noticed the pouring rain as he left the Floo at Diagon Alley. His fury had been on simmer long enough to cause the inevitable explosion of temper upon his arrival at the hotel.
It took quite a while for him to eventually settle down. He accioed the brandy snifter from the sideboard, and poured a glass with a shaking hand. Still suffering the remnants of his hangover headache, he managed to nurse the glass and only take a few sips as he forced himself to calm down.
He always knew the Ministry was full of idiots, but he had no idea they were now controlling the supply of potentially dangerous ingredients. He couldn't understand it, and he was a little annoyed that Severus had neglected to mention it. Things were going to be harder than he first thought. Staring out the window, the gloomy weather did nothing to raise Draco's spirits as he wondered if he really should have come back. Did I have a choice? Is this the shite I'm going to have to put up with for the next three years? Should I be missing Paris this much all ready? Is everyone going to treat me this way? They probably will if they have memories as long as mine. I guess I'll just follow Severus' lead and keep to my little corner when I get to Hogwarts. Surely if they see I'm minding my own business, they'll leave me be.
He was too tired and was considering the very inviting bed across the room, when a sudden rattling in his trunk drew his attention. Frowning, he opened the trunk cautiously with a flick of his wand. What could they have possibly left in my trunk that would set it off? He was surprised to see his journal wriggle its way out of a side pocket, flipping itself open as it lay atop the other items in his trunk. His sour mood lessened somewhat as he gathered quill and ink. A chat with Flash was just what he needed.
Harry was in two minds about leaving China. Lao Kuai's guidance had been refreshing, but Harry knew that he had to return to his real life sooner rather than later. He'd spent the remainder of Saturday and part of Sunday morning wandering around with his camera, hoping to gather a nice variety of new photos to add to his collection at home. The sun setting over the ocean, the beautiful lanterns glowing around Lao Kuai's meditation gardens, the unique architecture of the area that couldn't be found in England… Harry knew these photos would turn out beautifully and would offer him a tangible reminder of the sense of peace he'd found here. He understood himself well enough now that it was easy to recognise that this sense of peace came not from the environment itself, but from the internalised lessons he had learned here. So long as he carried those lessons with him, he could tap into the control and the calm in his centre and felt certain that it would have a profound affect on his life.
He ate a late lunch with Lao Kuai on Sunday and thanked him in the traditional manner. One lesson that fascinated him the most about the East was the concept of honour and tradition. Everything in the East was steeped in centuries of tradition. He formally bid his teacher goodbye, and knew he would be honouring his teacher by practicing his renewed skills every day.
Harry had forgotten the time difference, and arrived at the Floo in the Three Broomsticks before breakfast on Sunday morning. The International Floo ride had been rather nerve wracking, but Harry felt glad to be home, and glad to have nearly a whole day up his sleeve.
A sense of excitement followed his leisurely walk up to the school. Heavy clouds gathered and it looked like rain was about to set in, but he had plenty of time to walk up to the school. He'd thought to surprise Remus first, but wasn't ready to interrupt him this early in the morning. The regular hustle and bustle of the school was absent on this holiday, but breakfast was obviously happening in the Great Hall. The unmistakeable aroma of bacon, eggs and kippers wafted through the main hall.
As he poked his head through the giant doors to the Great Hall, he spotted a handful of students breaking their fast. He grinned at the group of bleary-eyed Gryffindors in Quidditch uniforms. Hermione mentioned that at least half the students were staying at school during the holiday. Apparently this number included the entire Gryffindor team, who didn't look terribly enthused about their early morning practice. A quick look up at the head table showed a few of the staff were also enjoying a leisurely breakfast.
With a wide grin, he strolled through the hall and greeted his new colleagues. Hermione got up and gave him a big hug, and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall greeted him warmly. Looking around, he saw no sign of Remus, nor any of the other staff.
"Why don't you join us for breakfast, Harry," the headmaster offered.
"Oh I just ate a huge lunch with Lao Kuai," he admitted shyly. "But I wouldn't say no to some tea and toast."
Hermione nodded as he took a seat next to her. "Good idea, you don't want to let the time difference affect you too much." As they enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, Harry talked about his time in China, how he reconnected with a number of forgotten routines and exercises. But now he had nearly all the time in the world to work through those routines and keep his magic under control.
"I can't thank you enough, sir, for letting me fill in for Madame Hooch."
"Oh, no, we should be thanking you, Harry," the headmaster replied. "I would not be the most popular headmaster if I had to cancel the Quidditch season with the most important games still to be played." He looked over his glasses at Harry. "Are you sure you really want to do this, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "Of course. It's not like I have anything else to do, is it? Besides, I'm sure the break is just what I'm looking for. I'm thoroughly sick of being stuck in a dead end job." Nobody at the table missed the hint of anger in his voice. Nobody commented on it either, but everyone was quickly distracted as a few mail owls arrived. The Daily Prophet landed in front of Hermione and Harry was surprised to find Hedwig make a grand entrance as she swooped down and landed gently on his shoulder. She was very happy to see him. Harry took the letter and traded a piece of bacon he swiped from the Headmaster's plate.
Harry's jovial mood fell and he quickly sobered as he read the letter. "Oh bugger..." he murmured.
"What?" Hermione asked curiously.
"I'm supposed to be in London on Tuesday. They won't accept my resignation until I fulfil all aspects of my contractual obligations. Well I'm certainly not going. They've got all the work they're going to get out of me," he huffed as he threw the letter Hermione's way.
"Oh no, Harry. I really think you need to go to London," Hermione sounded grim as she read the entire letter. As usual, Harry only read the first few paragraphs. "They say here that a failure to attend will result in legal action being taken by the Wizengamot. Oh Harry, you didn't give them a full month's notice, did you?"
"Bugger," he mumbled into his tea cup. He didn't want to deal with those idiots in the Ministry any longer. It was a futile exercise. He looked over to his new employer for assistance.
The headmaster didn't seem terribly perturbed. "You really should go, Harry. I doubt they will want to hold you to your full obligation. I guess this meeting will just be a formality to wrap up any loose ends. I can only assume they want you to fill out a few reports – the Ministry does love its paperwork." Harry laughed at that thought.
"What if they want me to keep working?" Damn, this is going to make me look a right fool. I'm supposed to be working at the school now. I have new obligations. I don't need this crap.
"I don't think you'll have too much to worry about, Harry," the headmaster seemed unconcerned. "We really don't need you until the start of May, so if they do try to force your hand, you can give them a few days before then."
Harry seemed a little less worried now that the headmaster seemed so calm about it. Keep your calm, Harry. Don't let small things get to you. Hermione threw the Daily Prophet his way and he enjoyed the opportunity to catch up on the news. He was not surprised to find the report of the Neo Death Eater attack had been brushed under the rug and explained away as a gas explosion. Seeing Gordon's blatant use of his own name in the article raised his ire.
Totally disgusted with the man, he flicked over the page, only to be confronted by a large photo of Draco bloody Malfoy smirking smartly up at him. Harry rolled his eyes as the photo Draco began to sneer at him. Draco's female companion was all smiles and gave Harry a sly wink when Draco wasn't looking at her. Harry ignored the pointy git as he read the accompanying text. So Malfoy really didn't fall that far from the tree. No doubt he's wooing the Minister's daughter to expand his own political agenda. Typical. Still, Harry thought with a little pang of regret, just goes to show that he's really definitely straight, no matter how bloody good he manages to look. He couldn't help but admire the obviously expensive robes, and was even more frustrated to realise that he was wondering about the body beneath them.
Disgusted in his own roving eye, Harry quickly moved on and read the rest of the social pages. He was glad to see that Lucas Fournier was heading back to the UK after his injury forced him out of the French Quidditch league. His worry about heading to London was soon forgotten as Harry took great pleasure in catching up with the Quidditch season. For once, he had no strong feelings either way about Puddlemere's loss to the Tornadoes. He had definitely moved on.
He couldn't help but be naturally concerned about the Neo Death Eater attack in Somerset, but a long chat with Remus after breakfast helped him realise that he didn't have to worry about it. It wasn't his concern any longer. Remus was glad for the company and he agreed with Dumbledore's assessment about his meeting in London.
"You know, you really didn't have to move all your stuff in this way, Harry," Remus offered as he helped Harry to bring his furniture and belongings out of storage and into his new rooms. The headmaster had offered Harry his choice of the vacant suites in the staff wing of the castle. Harry liked the light and airy suite. The large window overlooked a small courtyard and a small section of the Quidditch pitch in the middle distance. The pale sandstone walls were a relief to the regular monotony of the castle stone.
Harry had not thought twice about moving in to his rooms the Muggle way – lugging boxes from storage and into his rooms. He had been renewed with energy since returning from China and needed to keep himself busy.
As they dragged the last box into the room, Harry slumped over the couch in relief. This was going to be his home, at least for a while. He had no regrets about leaving Somerset so abruptly. His rent had been paid and he honestly wasn't going to miss his neighbours.
Remus returned with a couple of cold Butterbeers to quench their thirst. Harry's mind soon wandered back to his concern about going to London. Remus shrugged off that concern.
"Don't worry about it, Harry. They probably just want one final photo opportunity before they lose you forever," Remus said.
"You're right, you know. I really don't give a toss. I wonder if they've realised just what they're losing with me," Harry questioned. He began rummaging around through the nearest box and became distracted.
"Of course they do – now. They should have given you those classes when you asked for them," Remus agreed. "It's good that you're here, Harry."
"Is it, Remus?" Harry cocked an eyebrow, unsure if his old friend's words held any hidden innuendo. Even Remus was unsure what he wanted, but having Harry close was a little conflicting. He could see the younger man was so full of bountiful sexual energy, but he knew the truth and reasoning behind that, and couldn't help but keenly feel the loss of Sirius even more.
Harry couldn't work out why Remus suddenly fell silent, but followed the werewolf's line of sight. Remus gazed longingly at Harry's journal, and for a moment he thought he could see a pang of guilt in Remus' eye. Harry could only guess that Remus felt the loss of Sirius more keenly at times like this. He put a comforting hand on Remus' shoulder.
"You still miss him, don't you, Remus?" Harry asked softly.
Remus nodded. "Always," he swallowed hard.
"Did Sirius write in this journal often?" Harry was curious now.
Remus nodded again, not trusting his voice. "All the time."
"I never realised just how close you two were, Remus. I still sometimes think of him and wish he were here."
Remus touched the journal and smiled, but quickly brought himself out of his maudlin thoughts. "So, you've been writing in it now? Who's at the other end? Is he nice?"
"Yeah, Luc is pretty good. We've been talking for quite a while now. I only brought out the journal now because we normally sit down on a Sunday night and write. It's one thing I really look forward to now."
Remus couldn't be sure, but he suspected Harry didn't fully understand the implications of the journal. Surely he doesn't think that… Remus shook his head. It wasn't for him to interfere. The magic of the journals was already at work and it didn't need any interference from one lonely old werewolf, no matter how good his intentions.
"Well Harry, I had better leave you to it," Remus smiled as he showed himself out. From the broad smile on Harry's face, he knew that his friend, Luc really meant more to him than he realised.
Hello Luc, I hope you're there, I have loads to tell you, and most of it is good.
Luc, are you there? You haven't had a better offer, have you?
Hey Flash, sorry I took so long to reply. I am ashamed to say I am so tired, I nearly forgot our chat, which is crazy because I need to hear a friendly 'voice'. The journal's just been trying to escape from the bottom of my trunk. Sorry about that. I guess I'm still a little disoriented from another day from hell.
Oh? Why's that? And why is the journal at the bottom of a trunk?
It's been a long day. Suffice to say I was in Paris this morning, and I'm in London now. I forgot how dreary and depressing this place is. I had a little 'discussion' with those security wizards as I came through Immigration at the Ministry, and got on their bad side because I had no idea that some of the potions ingredients I brought with me were 'Ministerial Controlled Substances'. Anyway, I had words, and they had words, and we all understand each other perfectly now. My purse has been lightened by a few galleons, and I will be writing the necessary letters of complaint. But enough on that. How are you? You said you have loads of goodness to tell me – I could do with hearing some good news.
I'll tell you all about my news after you tell me why on earth you are in London. What brings you over to this side of the Channel? I thought you were heading off to a new job with your mentor.
I told you my job required a change in location. I might have neglected to mention it required me to live on this gods-forsaken island. My mentor is actually here, in the UK. I'm already missing the weather back home, and my new friends. Still, nothing I can do. My mentor expects me at work tomorrow, even if I'm suffering a hangover just like a Muggle.
You? A hangover? What happened to brewer extraordinaire?
I went to Ari's birthday party, had a little too much cheer, then forgot I'd packed all my stuff and had it shipped here. And my petite mère was not around to do a Sobrietus charm. Subsequently, I'm a little delicate. So don't scratch that quill too loudly...
And you didn't think to let someone else do the charm?
Not really. There still aren't that many people I'd trust to do such a complex charm – at least not someone I trust to do it properly.
I see. I know what you mean. Come to think of it, I don't think I'd trust just anyone to cast Sobrietus on me, either. So you're here in the UK? For how long?
Oh, Merlin. I'm here for too long. Still, I have no choice, as I have to repay my debt to my mentor. At minimum, at least three years. Still, if I could convince him to come and work in Paris, I would head back there in a Flash (no pun intended, Flash). What about you? How's your week been? Has this good news anything to do with your 'Love Life'?
The 'Love Life'? Well, that's non existent. Most action I've had recently was our flirting last week in the journal. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable with that.
No, I was just as much a willing participant as you. Still, that will be the most action I'm going to get in the foreseeable future, now that Jean-Paul is out of the picture. So if the love life is non existent, what is your good news?
Well, now. I really can't believe I did it, but, well, I did. I told my esteemed employers to 'sod off' (none too politely, I might add). I quit and threw in the towel. I was surprised at myself for doing it, but I had just had enough of the stupid gits, and I kinda quit whilst I was angry, which I know isn't a good thing. I took a short trip to the Orient to calm myself, and managed to get some great new photos to add to my growing collection. Now it seems my luck is turning around; a temporary job has fallen into my lap. It's not my first choice of work, but it's fun, and I will have a blast. But it's only going to last until June. I was talking to one of my friends, and one of her colleagues had an accident. They were threatening to make lots of cancellations because they couldn't find a replacement, so I just happened to volunteer my services and to fill in for her. Luckily, I'm amply qualified to do the work.
Hey, that's fantastic. You know, it might sound strange, but just from your words, I sense you are a lot happier. I am sure it must be a huge relief having quit. This other opportunity was just proving fortuitous. You are very lucky. Although I do hope that the injured colleague is all right.
Oh, it wasn't a bad injury, luckily. It's funny you know, I'm actually a little nervous about this new job. I never really thought about doing this, but I am excited and nervous all at once. I guess you'd call that apprehension. What about you? I bet it must be nerve wracking to have to start a new job, and move away from home at the same time. I guess this job is really taking me back to my home, which is something I didn't think about until just now.
Hmmm, yes. Well I wasn't surprised by the Ministry's lack of trust when I arrived. I am used to people thinking the worst of me – it's all connected to my former notoriety. I just know that I am going to have that mistrust following me around until the moment I go back home. But to be truthful (as if this journal allows me to tell you anything but the truth), my job will keep me away from too many people, and if I'm very lucky, I'll be able to carry out my research in peace and quiet. I doubt too many people around here will be upset by that.
Why do you think that? Surely your former notoriety can't be that bad. You certainly aren't a former Dark Lord - I have it on good authority he was finally killed. I don't know of anyone else who could have such a bad reputation as you say. I trust that whatever it was, it was some long forgotten indiscretion that led to your infamy?
Well, not so much an indiscretion as a misunderstanding. You know, you make it sound all so simple, and I feel so much better for just letting all my pent up anger out, even if you have to listen to me drone on and on. I have two friends on this continent, and you're one of them. I am so pleased I could tell you about this today. Thanks for being here to listen to my ramblings. I'm sorry about that, but my hangover is still hanging around, and I am tired, and normally I am much more eloquent, but I am trying to say that at the moment, you are one of the few people that I can trust.
I don't need to be a seer to know that things are not going to be easy for me here. I doubt anyone would believe me anyway. I know I'll need someone to talk to, and I am forever grateful for the fact that you are here. Owls back to Paris won't give me that instant answer I need to solve my problems. Besides, I will have to admit that I have told you things that I haven't dare mention to my friends back home. For some strange reason, I trust you more than anyone I know. Perhaps the fact that I don't know your physical self is what makes me believe that if I were to meet you, I could trust you implicitly.
I honestly don't know what to say, Luc. I guess I am very trusting, I will admit that, but I suppose I am proud to think I've never really broken anyone's trust before, even though others have stomped all over me. Maybe I am too trusting, but I can say exactly the same about you.
I should hope I can trust you. If we ever meet, you'll have enough ammunition to really hurt me if you wanted to.
No need to worry there, Luc. I think that you could do just as much damage to my reputation, and I wouldn't want to hurt you. I thank you and am honoured that you have placed your trust in me. I promise I won't let you down. So, what would it take to make the public get over their little misunderstanding that lead to your fifteen minutes of fame in the press?
Fifteen minutes of fame? What do you mean?
Oh, it's a Muggle reference. Sorry, but it means your moment in the limelight. According to some artist, everyone will have fifteen minutes of fame. Is there anything I can do to help you?
Oh that's good. I must remember that reference. No, I doubt anyone would believe you. It would take an absolute saint to make people believe that they are totally wrong about me. I doubt anyone short of Harry Potter would make the wizarding world believe me. And I doubt that would help. He did tell them once that it wasn't true, but they didn't believe him.
Harry was quite taken aback by that comment. Who could this be? Was it someone he'd met before? I must have met him if I tried to tell the public something about him, he thought reasonably. He knew there'd been times when he had found himself feeling pushed to defend the honour of various people, especially during the war. He'd stood up for Remus more times than he could remember and a few of the less-obvious Order members on occasion. Hells, he'd even defended the reputation of Severus Snape once or twice. That thought had him truly stunned for the briefest of moments, before he remembered that Snape hadn't been living in Paris and certainly wouldn't have been studying Potions. Quickly, before his pause could arouse suspicion, he replied with the first thing on his mind.
You've met Harry Potter? He knows you? He's spoken about you?
It was a very long time ago, Flash. I don't exactly hang out in the same circles as he does, so I doubt I could arrange for you to meet him. Sorry. But to answer your question, yes, he did tell the public he believed me, but they were so set in their beliefs, they ignored what he said.
I wasn't trying to meet him, don't worry. He certainly gets enough publicity from what I can tell. I'm sure he hates it when people fawn over him just because of what he did. I bet he would like nothing better than to live a quiet life.
Wouldn't we all like to live a quiet life? I am so tired, Flash. I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm sorry I'm not much of a conversationalist tonight, but I'm beginning to see that Muggles are made of sterner stuff than we are. How in the four hells do they put up with a hangover without the intervention of magic?
I think they use drugs like paracetamol and aspirin. Don't you go taking any Muggle stuff – who knows what it will do to you.
Don't worry, they taught us all about Muggle pharmaceuticals back at University. I didn't get a chance to get myself anything at the Apothecary here at Diagon Alley either, and every store is closed. I guess I'll just have to sleep it off.
Okay, well you take it easy, Luc. Good luck this week, and stop worrying. Some people just have it in their nature to be mean spirited, and I doubt there's much you can do about it. Just be true to yourself, nobody can ask more than that. If you try to do everything they want you to do, you'll end up with dozens of split personalities. I'm actually now terrified about my new job, but I suppose I'll just get up and dive into it. That's probably the only way.
Best of British luck to you then! Talk to you next week when I'm hopefully much better company. Good night, Flash.
Good night, Luc.
April 21 – Monday
Even though Draco was bone weary, his sleep at the Wandering Warlock had not been restful. His overactive mind spent hours racing over dozens of unconnected thoughts. He tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bedding until he was resigned to the fact that his return to England was out of his hands. He trusted Severus' judgement. Of course, having Flash around to chat through a few insecurities would undoubtedly keep him sane. It was a relief to hear that his friend had quit that horrid job and had found something he enjoyed in the short term. Draco couldn't imagine working under the same conditions as Flash, but knew if he were stuck in that situation, he would have no trouble telling his employers what he truly thought of them. It was nice to know that apart from Severus, he would have at least one other person in the country he could call a friend.
He had been avoiding it, but Draco knew that worry about the Neo Death Eaters and their recent activities were the real reason he could not sleep. The reality of their actions was slowly sinking in, and he loathed the fact that if he had been a little more vigilant, they might not have the resources to be this organised. That thought lay most heavily on his mind; it was still churning away long after it was time to get up and be on his way to King's Cross.
Still bleary eyed, but freshly bathed, Draco managed a very light breakfast before heading through the Floo to the station. He would have given every Galleon in his possession for a semi-decent cup of coffee, but he had to suffice with strong, black tea. It just didn't have the same kick, leaving Draco with an even deeper desire for his favourite brew.
Dozens of families were already on the platform, but he found himself immersed and stunned by the familiarity of the scene at platform 9¾. Fortunately, only half the students from Hogwarts had returned home for the holidays, but to Draco it was still too many people shouting and crying all at once. The faint echo of a hangover reverberated in his still fuzzy head.
"Draco Malfoy?" a voice asked curiously. Draco turned to find a student walk up to him. "It is you! What are you doing here?"
Draco took only a moment to recognise the tall and swarthy student in Slytherin robes. Damien Michaels had been Draco's replacement as seeker for the Slytherin team after he left Hogwarts, and he had spent much time with the then second year boy during his last year. If anything, the boy had definitely grown. It felt a little disconcerting to be looking up at the other boy, who now towered a good two inches more than Draco.
"Michaels. How are you?" They shook hands warmly. He was a little startled to find the friendly, yet familiar face.
"What are you doing here today?" Damien asked, not failing to notice the trunk alongside Draco. "Are you visiting someone at the school? Professor Snape, perhaps?" Michaels nudged Draco and gave him a sly wink.
"Don't be crass, Michaels. You really shouldn't be making insinuations about a member of staff like that. As a matter of fact, I'm now apprenticed to your Head of house, so I guess I could deduct points for such an infraction." Draco felt like a prefect again, disciplining his house mates for minor misdemeanours.
Damien seemed very pleased at the news, "Really? You're going to be at Hogwarts for the rest of the year? That's brill."
"I'm sure you'll be in the minority in that opinion, I doubt there are many of your classmates who care so much about my presence," he reluctantly admitted.
"As if you'd give a toss what anyone thinks, Malfoy. It'll be great having you around!" Draco raised an eyebrow at the young man's obvious joy at seeing him. He could see quite a few students looking their way including a good number of girls trying to gain Damien's attention. He took the opportunity to make his escape to the train.
He had completely forgotten that the older students were only first and second years at Hogwarts during his own time. Seeing Michaels as a fully grown man was unexpected. He distinctly recalled the arrogant little snot was always hanging around the older students; expecting to further himself by associating with them. The boy had been a natural flyer, and Draco had groomed the boy to take over the Seeker's position. It was with a little grimace that he now recalled that Slytherin had since become practically unbeatable. Yes, of course you'll always be remembered as the Seeker during Slytherin's longest Quidditch Cup drought. Again, all thoughts lead back to Potter. He scowled at the thought.
He grasped the head of his cane more firmly, avoiding the temptation to give in to hot-headedness at yet another unbidden thought of Potter. Unfortunately, as he turned, the object of his utmost hatred was grinning at him in all his smug glory.
A life sized poster of Potter was draped over one entire side of the newsstand. Momentarily taken aback by the sight of the git, Draco snorted as he realised it was only a poster. No doubt Potter was revelling in the glory of having been voted most handsome git in some bothersome Witch Weekly Poll. Draco sneered at the poster as he almost let out an audible growl. The life sized photograph mirrored his reaction. In his annoyance, Draco threw a few Knuts at the paper seller in exchange for the Daily Prophet, and headed towards the train.
The piercing squeal of teenagers renewed his almost dormant headache. He turned to see a gaggle of girls descending on the newsstand; swooning over the poster of Potter as they fought over copies of the magazine. Merlin, am I going to have to put up with everyone fawning over the git everywhere I go? He pursed his lips and fervently hoped they would soon quiet down before he chose to hex them for their poor taste in men. The fact that Potter was bisexual (despite rumours to the contrary), didn't seem to bother the overly excitable girls.
Their excitable chatter finally faded as he settled into an empty compartment in the last carriage. He really would have preferred to Apparate to Hogwarts, but he had promised Severus he would do this. Draco loathed the Express. If there was one reminder of his school days he would sooner forget, it was the memory of numerous unpleasant trips on the train to and from school. He didn't care to recall any of those memories right now, but the scowl at the thought had already formed on his face.
He wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a comfortable ball and sleep all the way to Hogsmeade, but he had a responsibility to these students, and more importantly, to Severus. Draco reluctantly stepped out of his compartment and began the long walk down the train, casting a few surreptitious protective and monitoring charms along the way. He had no qualms about doing this for Severus and the students. He wanted ample warning of any impending dangers. He was still vigilant enough to realise that these Neo Death Eaters should be taken seriously. If there was a threat to the students, he would certainly protect them.
As he made his way through the carriages, he found himself stared at by most of the students, but they dared not approach him. The only friendly faces he saw were those belonging to Damien Michaels and the small group of Slytherins that were hanging around the popular student. Draco nodded to Damien, who smiled and waved, but continued on his walk back through the train. He was soon back in his compartment and ready to while away the interminable hours of the journey.
It was a peaceful journey for the most part; the constant rocking of the carriage taunted him to rest. Early spring rains beat a heavy tattoo against the window, providing that extra encouragement for Draco to fall asleep. He extracted some of his research notes to help stimulate his mind during the trip. He need not have worried. The nosy witch with the sweets trolley took extreme liberty by sitting opposite Draco and attempting to strike up conversation with him on more than one occasion.
He had been polite, if curt at first, making a number of non-committal comments in response to her constant talking. He should have been surprised, but wasn't, when her conversation turned to the eating and buying habits of the 'little dears on the train'. Apparently they all wanted to buy Muggle sweets because it was well known that they were Harry Potter's favourite, and so now she had to stock a variety of Muggle confectionaries.
His deep sigh of frustration was evident, and he reluctantly admitted that he head a headache. Unfortunately, she didn't take the hint, and continued to ply him with a number of (mostly useless) suggestions on how to get rid of it. He feigned sleep just as she was quoting Gilderoy Lockhart's suggestions on how to cure headaches.
Luckily, Draco's feint worked, and he found himself waking up just as the train was slowing down into Hogsmeade.
Harry, Ron and Hermione's plans to wander through the Hogsmeade shops on Sunday afternoon were washed away with the incessant rain that managed to soak into every nook and cranny. Most of their afternoon was spent relaxing in a warm and dry corner of the Three Broomsticks. The three were so cosy and comfortable, they were disinclined to even move, and decided to forego the feast back at the school and enjoy a quiet feed of pub food before the boys took the Floo back to London.
After Harry finally acquiesced to the requested meeting with the Ministry, Hermione had kindly offered a bed for his use in the London flat she shared with Ron. Hermione's internship with Poppy Pomfrey was due to finish in the next fortnight and Ron was more than thrilled that Hermione would be coming home for good.
The trio whiled away the hours in pleasant conversation, catching up on a myriad of topics, but the young couple had been most insistent of getting to the root of Harry's dissatisfaction with his old job.
"I don't care, Hermione. Honestly," he seemed nonplussed by the fact the Ministry was extremely unhappy with Harry.
"Didn't you ever read your contract with the Aurors, Harry?" Hermione was torn between sympathy and lecturing with Harry.
"Of course I did, Hermione. If you remember, both you and Ron checked it over for me."
"But Harry, did you forget about the terms and conditions of resigning your commission? You have to give them one whole month's notice, and you have to provide them with a replacement..." Hermione seemed to be arguing in circles, stabbing one of her potato chips in the air as she made her point.
"But they had me listed as unfit for duty without giving me prior written notification. It seems they were the ones to break my contract first." Harry sounded quite adamant, but his full attention was on cleaning the last of the curry from his plate with a delicious piece of naan bread.
Ron nodded, agreeing with Harry, "Still, Harry, I don't think you should be trying to beat the system. Your recent record isn't exactly shining, you know."
"Ron, if there's one thing I've learned recently, it's that I really don't care what happens. Really, what's the worst thing they could do?" Harry seemed quite complacent, but he wasn't worrying about it, not any more.
Ron shrugged, "I don't know, Harry. I've given up on wondering what half those people in the Ministry do."
"Anyway, I'm sure that if the worst comes to the worst, I can always ask the Minister to put in a good word. I'm fairly certain he would." Harry smirked at Ron.
"You wouldn't dare, Harry Potter!" Hermione was stunned, "Would you really use your contacts and your name just to get ahead?"
"Well, yes Hermione. Can't you just think of all the times I've done exactly that?" he asked sarcastically.
"Well, never," she admitted reluctantly.
"See? It's like I said, I would only use it if they want to play nasty. I'm tired of everyone wanting to walk over me." He sighed.
"Speaking of being walked over..." Ron indicated for them to look out the window. The trio watched as the thestral driven carriages began to arrive outside the train station. Harry heard the school train arrive long before they could see it through the teeming rain.
"What's Snape doing down here? He never bothers to meet the train," Ron asked curiously.
Hermione mumbled, but chewed quickly before swallowing. Apparently she had something exciting to tell. "Oh, didn't I tell you? Snape's gone and got himself an apprentice."
"Really?" Harry asked curiously. "Who'd be crazy enough to want to work with him?"
"I guess we'll know soon enough," Hermione murmured. "But Poppy was rather surprised. Apparently Dumbledore has been trying to convince him to take on an apprentice for years. Suddenly, out of the blue, he agrees. It seems most out of character for the Professor."
They finished their meal as they watched the students run for the cover of the carriages. They were most surprised to see Snape smiling as he led a hooded figure into one of the carriages.
"Ahem, well, perhaps it isn't such a mystery as to why he's got the apprentice," Ron smirked knowingly.
"Ron!" Hermione chastised. Harry snickered.
"I guess we'll know for sure soon enough, won't we?" Harry smirked, but shook his head at the thought of Snape becoming romantically involved with anyone. He thought absently about Charlie, and his unrequited lust for the potions master. Harry repressed a smile. He could only begin to imagine Ron's reaction if he ever found out about his brother.
The carriages were long gone and the trio reluctantly departed. Harry gave his friends a few moments alone. He knew exactly how they must be feeling during this time of Hermione's internship. The enforced separation was hard, Harry knew that, but he didn't begrudge them one moment of happiness. Harry's altruistic outlook on life had returned now that his own future was unwritten and very much an open, blank page.
As Harry watched his two best friends show their deep affection for each other, a warm feeling overcame him. He smiled as he instinctively knew that his own soul mate was out there and that one day his own soul mate would make him just as happy. Somehow, that moment seemed much closer than it had previously.
Stepping off the train, Draco raised the hood on his robe in a fruitless attempt to keep off the soaking rain. He could still feel the gentle sway of movement as he stepped onto the platform. He always hated that feeling after getting off the train. He shivered as the cold and wet wind bit through his robes. There were only so much a drying charm could do against the force of nature, and he knew that he would look like a drowned ferret no matter how much magic he imbued into the fabric of his robes.
The biting chill in the air was a little unpleasant, particularly after the beautiful spring weather in Paris, but Draco took a deep breath as dozens of memories returned with the crisp Scottish air. Well, he thought wryly, welcome back to Scotland, Draco. Surely it can't get any worse than this.
As the throng of students disembarked from the train, he was surprised to see Severus standing on the platform, intimidating them with his usual scowl. Draco was surprised to find him there. Surely he didn't come down just to meet me? He must have been sent down from the school to make sure all the students arrive safely. Severus' genuine smile told Draco that he had indeed come to greet his apprentice.
The Potion Master's scowl quickly returned when the students began to look at him strangely. Many looked between Draco and Professor Snape, and many quiet whispers were hurriedly being exchanged. No doubt Draco's arrival will be through the gossip mill by the time the carriages reach the school, he thought Most students gave Snape a wide berth, leaving ample room for Draco to greet him.
"Severus," he shook his hand firmly, a weary smile crossing his face.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Draco," he said with a veiled hint of mirth, but Draco could hear the relief in the man's voice, "I doubt you had a pleasant journey, but I can see from the headcount you didn't manage to strangle any of the dunderheads. I'm disappointed."
"Sorry, Severus. I must be slipping. I'll try to do better next time. I assure you, your grand plan to poison their pumpkin juice won't be delayed. After all, isn't that why you brought me here?" It felt good to banter with his old friend. At least that was something he had to look forward to. Severus laughed heartily.
Draco asked, continuing their teasing repartee as they stepped into one of the carriages. Both men tried to ignore the thestrals, but they still produced a shiver down Draco's back whenever he saw them. "You know, I'm sure they'd snap you up if you were to apply to L'institut. You are ten times more brilliant that any of those idiots there, Severus. You really should think about it. You deserve a change. Surely it's better than having to put up with this," he indicated the thestrals and the students.
"Ah, but you're forgetting one thing, Draco. I can't stand France. But I suppose there would be more prospects for a lonely old Potions master there. Surely it can't be worse than this backwater of Scotland," Severus said bitterly. He was forever discussing how much he loathed teaching at Hogwarts, yet this was the first time Draco could sense Severus' real desire to get away.
"So how are things, really?" Draco asked out of curiosity.
Severus made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't get any easier, and I do believe the students are getting more imbecilic with each passing year." He gave un uncharacteristically emotional sigh, "I think I'm getting too old for this, Draco. Look at me; I've taken on an apprentice, for Merlin's sake. It's a sign. I'm getting old." Draco raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic admission. "Still," Severus continued, "It doesn't help when I become a pet-sitting service for irascible old owls."
Draco laughed loudly at the thought of Severus with Melchett. "He is rather indifferent, isn't he?" he replied as he stifled further laughter.
"I think he was missing you," the sarcasm was quite evident in Severus' statement.
"Melchett? Missing me? I think you have the wrong bird there, Severus." Draco laughed at the thought of his most difficult, yet strangely faithful eagle owl. "I always wonder if he'll actually return from a delivery, for all he seems to care. No, I think he's probably just overjoyed at the fact I haven't been around to actually make him earn his owl treats. Besides, he will probably enjoy the countryside, and no doubt the company in the Owlery. He is a Malfoy bird through and through, and I think he despised France. He's probably just excited to be home."
"Your bird doesn't like France? He's just moved up in my estimation," Severus retorted blandly as Draco stuck out his tongue in reply.
Draco didn't think the rain could get any heavier, but he was wrong. The wind whipped around the carriage, slipping through the cracks in the window frames. A bitter wind sent another chill through Draco. He was so tired he could barely keep up the conversation with Severus. Severus could see Draco's weariness and allowed the man some quiet time before they arrived at the castle. Draco was grateful for the warming charm that Severus surreptitiously cast. Unfortunately, it was making him very sleepy. The wheels of the carriage splashed in the deepening puddles as the castle loomed closer. Despite his earlier sleep, he was surprised by the deep yawn that escaped his lips. Weariness overcame him suddenly. "You didn't have to meet me, Severus. I'm a big boy you know. I can take care of myself."
"Don't think on it, Draco. Someone had to ensure the students made it to the feast successfully. Worst luck," Snape sighed wearily.
"I take it that the feasts are still over the top?" Draco remembered the rather unimaginative range of foods available at the feast and his taste buds cried out in protest as he realised just how much he was already missing the Patisserie.
"But of course. Apparently Dumbledore claims it's some sort of tradition and that we should get into the 'spirit' of it all. If the students aren't bouncing off the walls from the sheer overindulgence in refined sugary desserts, then they are utterly listless from eating too many rich and stodgy foods. Overfed and overstimulated students have no place in my lab. Fortunately for you, we have other business to attend to. We'll be taking some tea later, if that suits you?" Draco was really rather glad of the fact he could avoid the feast. Anything to avoid the obvious stares from the students. He really wasn't ready to face their derision en masse. Undoubtedly they would know all about him within the next couple of days, but he fervently wished for a quiet existence so he could quickly finish his research and apprenticeship and return home.
"I assume you will want a few days to settle in, so I have taken the liberty and conveniently forgotten to inform the headmaster of your exact arrival time." Draco nodded in understanding. "Still," Severus smirked at his young apprentice, "I thought I should warn you though, Potter's been wandering around the school for some reason. I caught him skulking around this morning."
"Oh?" Draco ground his teeth and scowled. "Really?" he said casually, trying hard to sound uncaring, but truly curious as to why the git would be visiting Hogwarts. "Please tell me he doesn't make a habit of it. What am I saying, the git always has to show his face to his adoring public."
"I have a hunch as to why he's been hanging around the castle, but I can't be sure. Consider yourself lucky he's now gone."
Draco offered no more interest than a raised eyebrow. He had no idea why Potter was there, but it seemed Severus wanted to tell him.
"Hmmm, yes. He seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time with Lupin. It doesn't take a genius to work out what he's after. His intentions are as plain as the scar on his face. It seems he's taken a distinct interest in watching the Defence professor..." Snape shook his head at the idea, but Draco caught the tail end of his thought, raising an eyebrow curiously.
Hmm, Potter and the werewolf. How... interesting, Draco concluded. Trust Potter to not have any standards. Typical, really. He was so disturbed by that vivid yet disturbing mental image of Potter and Lupin, he nearly missed what Severus said next.
"Lupin was ill?" Draco checked his mental calendar, realising the full moon had just passed. "Was it the Wolfsbane?"
"Relax, Draco. It was only the Wizard's flu, and he was ill before the full moon. The Wolfsbane probably helped him recover more quickly. There seems to be quite a good combination of restoratives in your latest formulation. You have some rather unorthodox ideas about what you are putting together in the Wolfsbane, Draco. Have you considered researching them on their own – aside from just in the Wolfsbane?"
"Hmmm, it's a thought, Severus. I'll work on that, if that's what you want me to do. But how is Lupin doing now? I suppose we'll have to use the same formulation for him next month, if he wasn't well. I was really looking forward to finding out if it helped speed up the healing recovery times..."
"Stop worrying yourself, Draco. You are tired and it's no doubt been a long day. You can ask the werewolf yourself when you see him. I am glad I no longer need to be your intermediary." Draco seemed confused at what Severus meant.
Severus looked amused. "Look, there's no love lost between Lupin and myself. My first duty as your master is to hand over everything to do with the Wolfsbane to you. I for one won't be sad to give up my interactions with that obsessive twat."
Draco's eyebrow rose at Severus' choice of words. He knew about the man's rivalry with Lupin from their school days, and couldn't help but smirk. Seems that someone could hold a grudge longer than he could. The carriages had arrived at the school by this time, and the rush of tired and wet students made a beeline to the large doors as they hurried out of the wild weather.
Severus led Draco straight to his rooms. Draco was feeling less tired now, perhaps he was on his second wind. He couldn't help but have a dig at Severus as he recalled the man's comments from their meeting back in the Leaky Cauldron. "So, Potter was at the school. Are you sure you weren't just jealous that he spent so much time with Lupin? I distinctly recall you saying last month how much you admired his assets."
"Did you honestly think I was being serious, Draco?" Severus smirked in amusement. "I was merely saying that to stir you. The mere sight of Potter is just a horrid reminder that youth is wasted on the young, and that all you pretty young things are wasting all that beauty on living the high life." The smirk was returned in kind. Draco couldn't help but snicker at the man's thoughts. It seemed Severus was starting to feel a little restless about being alone. Perhaps the man was more jealous than he realised.
The castle was as familiar as an old favourite blanket. Further resistance to his move back to Scotland was now pointless and he began to relax at the renewed familiarity of the sights and smells of the castle. He was a little unsure when Severus led him up the stairs instead of down the familiar passageways to the dungeons. Where were they going? "I took the liberty of choosing your rooms, Draco." Where were they headed? "Either I'm getting older, or the cold and damp in the dungeons is getting worse. I thought, perhaps your knee might appreciate something a little... warmer. Besides, these rooms are in the staff wing and were already set up." Severus rarely mentioned Draco's injury, but he was grateful for the consideration to his ongoing health. He too had been a little concerned about living in the dungeons and the effect it would have on his maddeningly annoying injury. Remembering how well it had felt in the warmth of Marrakesh, he saw the sense in taking rooms away from the dungeon.
Draco was really quite weary, and was looking forward to his nice soft mattress, even though he was so tired he really could have slept anywhere. Severus turned down a corridor at the top of the first flight of stairs. They stopped at the first door on the right. He tried to focus on where he was as the thoughts of a nice, comfortable bed were making him drift off.
If Draco's memory served correctly, the staff wing was on the first floor, not too far from the Defence classroom or the library. As they entered the room the wall sconces flared dramatically and the room was lit with a brilliant blaze of light. He was momentarily overwhelmed by the room's brightness, but soon realised that it was the pale sandstone reflecting and enhancing the bright light. The set of rooms, Severus explained, included a small, generous office. Roughly the size of his studio in Paris, the current sitting room seemed more than adequate. He immediately recognised his trunks and furniture in one corner of the room. Opening the nearest door, he welcomed the sight of his bed in the adjoining room. The familiar birch pillars of the king sized four poster appeared to have made the move unscathed. Another wave of tiredness overcame him at the sight of that very inviting mattress.
"I had the elves empty out this room today and asked them to bring your belongings out of storage, Draco. Nobody's really stayed in these rooms for years from what I can recall. You know how much I loathe this part of the castle. According to one of the infernal creatures, I think they had been using this room for storage. There were just boxes and junk lying around in here. I do hope they haven't misplaced anything." Severus was such a pedant. It was good to find that at least some things never changed about the man.
"I specifically wanted you to have this suite of rooms, Draco. They once belonged to old Master Montpelier," Severus continued, "He had an affliction that prevented him from working in the dungeons, and the administration at the time had a laboratory created for him here," Severus gestured as he opened another door, and Draco followed in awe. The office and laboratory was everything Draco had imagined. Similar in size to Severus' own rooms, the lab already showed signs of habitation. Draco ran a finger along the bench top, his hand pausing as he opened his own potions cabinet.
"This... this is more than I need..." Draco was in awe at the facilities he had been given. He had assumed he would be sharing cauldron space with Severus.
"Nonsense, Draco. There is plenty of room in the castle. Besides, apart from the adjoining classroom, these rooms have been all but abandoned since I started school here. Anyway, if I recall how fastidious you are with your work area, you won't want to be sharing space with anyone soon. As an added bonus, the Floo is directly connected to the one in my office, so there's no need for you to walk all that way to the dungeons."
Draco almost stammered, "Thank you." He was genuine in his thanks.
It was quite late by the time Severus left him. He was too tired to give too much care about eating, but a slow rumble in his stomach reminded him how long it had been since breakfast. A quick Floo call down to the kitchens secured him a few rounds of sandwiches, and regretfully, a pot of tea. He wasn't sure of the elves ability to make decent coffee, and he wasn't willing to find out right now. He was a little taken aback when he asked for a pot of tea, and was then quizzed as to which of the two hundred types of tea he would like. Too tired for any inquisitions, he barked out that he just wanted Earl Grey.
He sighed. The last thing he needed now was another surprise. He wasn't to be disappointed.
"Master Draco?" a squeaky voice from Draco's distant past interrupted his unpacking. He turned around to see a house elf with a huge grin beaming at him.
Furrowing his brow, Draco tried to recall this elf. Where have I seen him before?
"It's me, Dobby! I hasn't seen you since you was a boy! Master Snape doesn't tell us you is arriving here, Master Draco!" the excitable elf suddenly realised he was still holding the tray of tea and sandwiches when the scalding tea spilt over his hand, and he flinched. He put down the tray and began wringing his hands.
It all suddenly came back to Draco. The wringing of the hands and the doleful look in the elf's oversized pupils. "Hello, Dobby. Still at Hogwarts I see." He recalled his father's complete apoplectic fit at the loss of the elf during his early years at Hogwarts, and a dim recollection that the elf had taken up servitude at the school. "I thought by now you would have been serving Potter personally." He immediately regretted mentioning the prat's name, as the look of unabashed awe on the elf's face made Draco cringe.
"Oh, no, Master Draco! I was asking Harry Potter if I could come work for his house, but he is saying no to me! He is saying he is not needing a house elf and Dobby is to stay with Dumbledore! And now Master Draco is staying at Hogwarts! Dobby always liked Master Malfoy! But who is looking after the Manor? Is Dipsy and Gaggy still working for Master Draco?" Dobby was full of questions, but quickly stopped when Draco pointed his cane in Dobby's face.
Draco immediately realised his mistake when he saw the house elf cower and begin to shake in fright. "Merde! Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to threaten you – I don't do that sort of thing. I am not like my father." He sighed. " I'm just very tired. Don't worry, there's no wand in the cane any more. I should not have pointed that at you. I'm just too tired to answer all your questions now. I've had a couple of trying days. I apologise again, Dobby."
Still unsure, the house elf hovered for a few more moments, but nodded slowly. His large eyes widened even further when he saw Draco was actually using that cane to walk over to the chair. "Dobby is forgiving, Master Draco. Dobby will make sure Master Draco is comfortable. It is good to see you, Master Draco."
"Thank you," Draco offered to the elf. A look of surprise crossed Dobby's face at the thanks. No doubt he was unused to it. Draco remembered that he would have rarely heard that back in his days at the Manor. It had been too many years, and Draco's interactions with most house elves had been shaped by Lucius' behaviour.
Dobby left quietly, but Draco had already forgotten about the elf. The sandwiches were barely tasted and the tea merely washed down, he was so tired. It was almost too much effort to get out of those filthy robes and into a long, hot bath. He opted for some pyjamas instead; literally falling into bed. Sleep claimed him before his head hit the pillow.
April 22 – Tuesday
Harry stormed out of the Ministry on Tuesday afternoon, a dark storm cloud gathering about him as he strode directly into the Leaky Cauldron. Harry's friends had been overly optimistic about his meeting, and he should never have listened to them. The Ministry officials were all ready to make him fulfil the remainder of his contract, right down to the minute. That would make him unavailable to replace Madame Hooch as he would be unavailable then until after the Quidditch season.
Lloyd Winslow had been adamant that Harry had broken his working contract by storming out the week before, and he was enjoying every moment he held Harry's future in his hands. Harry tried hard to maintain his calm – he knew that any outbursts of power would not help him.
Harry doubted that pure luck was with him when Rufus Scrimegour just 'happened to drop by' to have a chat with Winslow. He could sense Dumbledore's intervention in the proceedings, but he wasn't going to argue in the least. In the end, Rufus Scrimegour's no-nonsense solution was a winner for everyone. Harry agreed to finalise all outstanding reports and he was only too happy to administer practical exams for the students he had been tutoring. Winslow had been reluctant to admit to Scrimegour that Harry had been placed on the unfit duty list without prior notification, and so they would waive any further fines. Harry would leave the Ministry on the last day of the month will all his entitlements intact.
As he sipped on a glass of wine, Harry's temper began to calm. He had won, even if he didn't get the perfect result. He smirked over Winslow's reluctant admission that his skills were irreplaceable and the insincere offer of his own classes in the new semester. Harry knew it for the hollow offer it was, and politely declined. He definitely knew that would be the biggest mistake of his life, but the small admission of praise had felt justified.
Ron met him for a few more after dinner drinks, and he was only too happy to keep Harry there for the rest of the week. Harry knew Ron was quite lonely whilst Hermione was at Hogwarts, and Ron was thrilled to have the company.
Harry gave the Ministry no complaint as he performed his final duties with ultimate professionalism. He was truly going to miss the students, and they all thanked him profusely when they realised he wasn't going to be coming back. Harry felt a keen sense of loss about that, but knew it would never make up for the other rubbish he had to put up with in the job.
April 23 – Wednesday
Draco very quickly slipped into a nice, solid, peaceful routine in which to conduct his research. It didn't take him long to get settled into his new laboratory. A very pleasant half hour was spent with Severus each morning over breakfast as they planned Draco's work schedule.
It came as no surprise to Draco that for many years, Severus had overextended himself. Along with his teaching duties, he had been the principal producer of all the infirmary's potions, brews and balms. Added to that was the work he had undertaken with the Order and his duties as a spy. Although that role was now finished, Severus continued to work on numerous projects for Professor Dumbledore.
Draco was quite happy to take on some of these duties, and had already begun the next batch of Infirmary potions. He didn't even try to hide his glee when Severus handed over all duties related to the Wolfsbane. He was thrilled to be able to develop the potion and still continue with his research. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that this apprenticeship was probably going to be much easier than having to constantly handle the bureaucracy of a research grant. Severus promised to smooth things over with the Ministry in relation to Draco's 'smuggling' charge, and as he already had a permit for purchasing aconite, he would merely add Draco to his own permit.
Draco could gain his mastery just from being Severus' apprentice, then, when he was finished, he could publish his findings and hopefully gain the honour he so desperately wanted. He was looking forward to talking to Professor Lupin, if only to finally see for himself how the werewolf was faring in person. Severus had arranged for Draco to talk to him later in the week. Things were moving along swimmingly, but that wasn't to say that the job didn't come with some pitfalls. So far he had avoided the other staff and students, and he didn't fancy socialising with them any time soon. He wanted to get settled first.
Draco had kept to himself for the most part, taking his meals directly from Dobby and talking to Severus during the day. He was too busy to head up to the Great Hall for any meals, and he unconsciously timed any excursions out of his lab to coincide with the students being in class. It was pleasant just to lose himself in his work; he had missed it all whilst in Marrakesh. It had been a brilliant and wonderful holiday that he would never forget, but there was no point in his pining away over Jean-Paul.
He was finished with his first batch of brewing for the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey was surprised to receive his Floo call, and seemed pleased that he would be replenishing her medicinal stores. "I'll send someone around to pick them up, shall I?" Draco nodded, glad he didn't have to limp his way over to the Infirmary. He had seen enough of infirmaries and medical wards to last a lifetime. He just knew that Madame Pomfrey would want to enquire about his knee, and he wasn't really up for a Spanish Inquisition.
After a fruitless search through the library, Draco eventually bumped into the Headmaster. He felt chastised at first, but it quickly became apparent that the old man was familiar with Severus and his antisocial quirks. He gave Draco a short lecture about his expected role within the school, and promptly invited him to tea. Draco politely declined for now, as he really was in the middle of something important, and he needed to find the properties of a particular combination of roots. The old man nodded in understanding and reiterated that the invitation to tea was open ended, and that Draco should perhaps make time to mingle with the other staff. Much to Draco's annoyance, Dumbledore flippantly suggested what he should try to do with the combination of hellebore and henbane seeds.
The caffeine withdrawal had shortened Draco's temper severely. He had tried being patient with Dobby, but the daily saga was creating a new type of headache for Draco. If only he could make Dobby understand the intricacies of making coffee. Surely if the elves could whip up Black Forrest Cake for dessert, they could understand the basics of a coffee grinder and a drip filter plunger.
He sighed in exasperation as an extremely excited Dobby presented him with a pot of coffee. Draco tried hard not to spit out the ghastly liquid in his mouth. He was calm as he politely asked Dobby how he made it. It took him a good ten minutes to explain that no matter what, the coffee wasn't a flavouring to be added to an existing pot of tea. The elf seemed to understand, but Draco knew that it was going to be a long while before his next decent drink. It wasn't the first time he pondered a quick and very illegal Apparition back to Emmaline's. The remembered smell of her coffee was imprinted in his mind and that made the withdrawal even harder.
Still, the constant mention of Potter's name on the Wizarding Wireless Network kept his temper simmering. The hapless wireless was hexed after the forty-seventh mention of the git's name. Draco was in a right royal snit. He later regretted his harsh action, and quickly tried to charm the device to work again. An idea formed and he wasted the better part of an afternoon attempting to make it pick up his favourite Parisian radio station. He was unsuccessful in that attempt; he was too far away to receive any French stations. Still, he managed to charm the device to pick up a Muggle station. To his pleasant surprise, BBC Radio 1 was a much more interesting station than the Wizarding Wireless Network, and even better, they never once mentioned the cursed name of Harry Potter.
His peaceful evening of research was disrupted by an unexpected knock at the door. He remembered that Pomfrey was coming to collect her supplies. He certainly didn't expect the bushy headed witch standing at his door with a curious smile.
"Well, Malfoy, I suspected as much," Hermione Granger stood, arms folded as she waited to be invited in. Draco stood and blinked several times.
"What the bloody hell do you want," he snapped. This was unexpected. Severus never mentioned she was around. Bloody hell. First Potter, then Weasley. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to run into the last of the golden Gryffindors. Next they'll be telling me Neville Longbottom has replaced Madame Sprout.
"Madame Pomfrey sent me down to collect our supplies for the Infirmary," Hermione pushed her way through the door, taking in the sight of the well stocked laboratory, "Rumour has it that Snape took on an apprentice. Why am I not surprised to find it's you – you've been hiding away just like Professor Snape," she replied with a look of smug satisfaction.
Draco made his way slowly over to bench and began packing vials and jars into a box. He took a deep breath to keep calm before speaking to the former head girl.
"So I take it I will have the displeasure of your company on staff as well?" he sighed in annoyance. I didn't think that things could get any worse, but I was mistaken.
"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head, Malfoy. I finish up with Madame Pomfrey in a couple of weeks, before heading to St Mungo's and starting my final internship," she offered as she wandered around the lab. Draco became rather irate to see her poking her nose into his research. He could see her furrow her brow as she examined the row of recent test tubes Draco was working on. She continued the inane chatter, "So how are you anyway, Malfoy? I see from the paper that you've been courting French heiresses. What on earth brings you back here, of all places?"
Well at least she isn't on staff permanently, he thought gratefully. He chose to ignore her words about Arianna. He had been surprised to see that the photo from Arianna's birthday had made its way to the social pages of the Daily Prophet, but hearing Granger talk about that made his anger simmer on the surface. Who the hell did she think she was? She still couldn't keep her nose out of other people's business. With their history, they were never going to be best friends.
"I can only assume that Severus neglected to mention your presence here because of the fact you would soon be gone. Here," he shoved the box of potions under Hermione's nose, "I do believe you came for these." He spoke with the long practiced tone of indifference he always affected when he was unexpectedly and unpleasantly surprised.
Granger seemed to ignore the brusque dismissal as she began to examine the items for the Infirmary. "Everyone wondered where you went after the war, Draco. We knew you were injured," she ran her eyes down to his injured knee, "but you never collected your Order of Merlin."
"Well, where I've been and the intricacies of my social life really aren't your concern, Granger. As you seem to have all your senses in working order, you can plainly see that I am here, and that I am currently brewing potions for you to take back to the infirmary as I engage in inane chatter with former Gryffindors."
"I see that someone is still a cranky git," she retorted mildly. "Keep your shirt on, Malfoy. I was only trying to be polite," she picked up a jar, unscrewed the lid and gave it a good sniff. "Are you sure this balm is okay? It doesn't smell right." Her critical tone immediately put him on the back foot.
"Of course there's nothing wrong with it, Granger. I should know," he said indignantly.
"It's just that it smells different—"
"Yes, that's because I don't use animal base for these balms. It's too oily and they don't keep for as long."
"But what else could you use?" she seemed interested in what he was discussing, "A saline base wouldn't stay stable for more than a day, and surely you aren't using Dragon bile – that's ridiculously expensive, not to mention restricted –"
"It's based on henbane seeds," he offered.
"But that's poisonous – what on earth do you use as a catalyst?" she seemed genuinely interested. Draco was surprised at the depth of her knowledge, but recalled that her marks at school were fairly similar to his in both Potions and Arithmancy.
"No," he did like to prove her wrong, "It's the leaves and stem that are poisonous, but the ground seeds stabilise when you add powdered Bicorn horn, and it lasts longer than any other base I've experimented with. That bruise banish salve should last at least until Christmas with that base."
Hermione seemed impressed. "I would never have considered mixing the Bicorn horn. That's... innovative," she replied with a hint of admiration.
"It's called taking a risk, if you're not afraid to experiment. Brewing is more than just following a set of instructions in a book. That's merely a guide for those who have no idea how you can combine thousands of items and make a myriad of magical potions. That's why I'm the Potions apprentice, and you are the intern medi-wizard. I don't know a single medi-wizard who is more than just passingly competent at brewing. I certainly won't be telling you how to heal your patients Granger, so why don't you just trust my judgement?"
"I never said I didn't trust your judgement. I've never questioned it once – not since the start of the war, Draco." Hermione was looking at him in a strange way.
"Hmmph!" His temper had been on a tight leash all day, and he really didn't have any reason to get angry at Granger. Seeing her had been an unpleasant surprise, but he reluctantly admitted that she was being quite pleasant. "Sorry, I'm just a little surprised you would actually care. I never really gave you much quarter during our school years, and your presence on my doorstep was... unexpected."
"Yes, well you were mostly an uppity little snot back in school. But it took a lot of character to do what you had to do during the war, Draco. I doubt very many could even begin to imagine what you went through."
He didn't say anything in return. She was right. It had been hard, but he never regretted it. An awkward silence passed. He really didn't know what to say. She was actually being... pleasant, and he'd been an uppity snot. He really needed to work on that. Especially if he was going to be working around people he didn't particularly like. Guess I'll just have to keep working on my acting skills. They got me through the war. He limped back over to the bench, but he could feel Granger's eyes watching him.
"Actually, I was just wondering... your knee—"
"Yes, I do have one – two actually," he answered smartly. He knew what she was going to ask. Even Jean-Paul had been curious about Draco's injury. It was an obvious magnet for anyone with any healing ability.
"I was just wondering if I could take a quick look at it—"
"Why Granger, I never knew you thought of me that way. Won't Weasley get jealous?" he bit back with sarcasm and sighed deeply. "Look, I fail to see how some trainee medi-wizard could find a cure for this cursed knee when the best medi-wizards my considerable fortune could buy were unable to do so. Just give up and concentrate on trying to do something less ambitious – like curing Wizard Flu or something."
"But—" she interrupted, but Draco stopped her with a menacing stare. He didn't need someone to again remind him of the futility of trying to cure his knee. He knew the prognosis, and he knew not to get his hopes up yet again.
"Whatever you might think Granger, it's none of your business. Can't you just accept, like everyone else, that this injury is incurable. Good day." Draco flicked the door open with his wand, ignoring Granger as she turned quickly and left. The door slammed shut behind her.
Well that went well. Am I going to have this confrontation with every person I meet? Guess I shouldn't be surprised that I have to justify myself to everyone. How dare she think she can just waltz in and fix everything! She was always such an annoying know it all. It took Draco a good couple of hours to settle down, but soon realised that despite his anger, it was probably misplaced. He was the one who snapped at her, yet she had been quite pleasant.
Harry was pleased that his second day back at the Ministry seemed to go fairly well, but nevertheless, he was greatly looking forward to the next week when he could officially be decommissioned and allowed to return to Hogwarts. He glanced at the journal after Ron went to bed, but decided he was simply too tired to write anything. Besides, it was nothing that couldn't wait until Sunday when Luc would be expecting a chat with him.
He climbed into bed, relishing the sensation of the cool sheets against his skin, and spent a few moments with his new evening ritual. After that Neo Death Eater attack, Harry had been a good deal more conscientious about his evening Occlumency, reminding himself that it would not only prevent opportunities for loss of control, but could also prevent any further headaches like the last one. His Occlumency preparations easily led into the breathing exercises from Lao Kuai, and he settled into the resulting balance, ready to accept the rest his body sought and the information his subconscious might reveal.
'Gods, I love you.' The voice whispered in his ear, and the words sent his heart into a tailspin. The depth of meaning behind that statement caught in the back of his throat and nearly brought tears to his eyes. Harry looked at the man lying next to him, but couldn't make out any features. It was dark, obviously quite late at night, and they were curled up in the bed together. Harry tightened his arm around the other man's shoulders, offering a squeeze in response before his mouth seemed to open of its own accord.
'I love you, too.' Something inside told Harry that he had only just learned what that statement truly meant. It wasn't that he hadn't meant it before, just that he hadn't experienced it on this level. The face that rested on his shoulder shifted slightly, and Harry thought it felt like his lover was smiling. He felt a slight tickle from the eyelashes and smiled at the feeling of comfort he felt. This was perfection, lying here, tangled together with his love, knowing deep inside that happiness awaited them both. The other man's right hand began a slow trail across Harry's chest, gently brushing the skin in an almost-tickling manner, ever so slightly teasing Harry's left nipple for the briefest of moments. It wasn't a touch meant to arouse, at least, not in a passionate, desire-filled manner. It was a touch expressing love, revering the special bond between the two of them. Harry traced random designs with his fingertips on his lover's back, then eventually turned to face him so that they were holding each other face to face.
Though the facial features wouldn't register, Harry was looking deep into the eyes of this man, recognising that he'd known him before, and would know him again in the future. His gut instinct kicked in and told him that their souls belonged together, and well, who was he to question that? They continued to gently touch and pet one another, slowly teasing and exploring with their fingertips, relishing every moment they had together. Harry felt the desire building inside of him, but it was different than he was used to. Rather than the driving need for sex, he simply felt fulfilled, even before any sexual activity took place. Just being with this man gave Harry a sense of being more complete than he was before, and the idea of making love to him filled Harry with undefinable emotions. They slowly stroked one another's skin, kissing sweetly, gently. Eventually, once they were joined, Harry realised one major difference in this lovemaking. It was taking place on a deeper level than anything he'd experienced before. Their energies were intertwined, building around them and increasing the sensations and emotions exponentially. It was as if their souls were making love and their bodies had merely come along for the ride.
Harry awoke slowly, feeling calmer and happier than he had in a very long time. As he stretched languidly, he began to remember the dream he'd had about his mystery lover. That's exactly what I'm looking for! He was somewhat startled by this realisation, and sat up to think about the details, wondering if it would give him a clue where to find this wonderful man. I can't remember his face. I know it was the man I'm looking for, but I can't see his face! His frustration gave way to wonder and confusion and even a little fear as one final thought burst into his head. Just like I haven't seen Luc's face.
Thursday dawned clear and bright after endless days of rain. Melchett seemed only too happy for a flight as Draco attached his promised letters to be delivered to Arianna and Emmaline. He begged his Petite-mère to send some decent coffee, and enclosed the clipping from the Daily Prophet for Arianna's amusement. No doubt she would get as much a kick out of the implication that they were practically engaged as he did. Melchett preened and fussed over his feathers but he protested and wasn't impressed by the fact he was expected to fly all the way down to Paris. Draco ignored his complaints. He reluctantly flew off in a huff just as another owl flew in.
A return letter from Gringotts confirmed they received his letter reporting his change of address. He still felt a little miffed that he had to report his movements to Weasley. He knew that Magical Law Enforcement were concerned he was involved with these Neo Death Eaters, but Draco still resented the fact he had to be kept under such scrutiny.
"Please tell me there are no other nasty surprises," Draco asked Severus as they were having their usual morning meeting over breakfast. Severus apologised for neglecting to tell Draco about Miss Granger's temporary staff appointment. "I pay so little attention to the other staff, Draco, I sometimes forget that you have a history with some of these people. I have spent too long ignoring most of them and they have learned to keep their distance."
Severus was at first surprised to see Draco had already commandeered one of the house elves, but understood the situation perfectly when he found out the elf in question was a former Malfoy elf. Aside from the coffee debacle, Dobby managed to have a rather indulgent repast laid out for Draco each morning. He did miss his indulgent little pastries from the patisserie, but the steaming crumpets and honey and fresh fruit were always tasty.
"Well, we can only wonder at who Dumbledore is going to get to replace Hooch—" Snape wondered to himself.
"Has something happened? I only saw her the other day," Draco wondered aloud as a stray drip of honey dribbled inelegantly down his chin.
"It seems Hooch caught a nasty case of pregnancy. Silly bint kept flying though – now she's bedridden until the child is born this summer. Naturally, Dumbledore would never dream of cancelling the remainder of the Quidditch season, so he's looking for a replacement. Not that I care for gossip, but if I understand Minerva correctly, I think that Dumbledore's already found someone. Merlin knows who we'll get this time. He's probably got someone like Oliver Wood tucked under his sleeve. I wouldn't put it past him. Could be why Minerva seems so smug."
Despite his self imposed solitude within the castle, Draco did not pass up the opportunity to take a short walk down to Hogsmeade in the fine weather. He was more than happy to make the short trip to pick up an order for Severus at Slug and Jiggers. He was badly suffering from shopping withdrawal, but he never noticed it until he was away from Paris. Hogsmeade didn't quite have the diversity of shops that Paris was renowned for, but it was better than nothing.
As he made his way to the edge of the castle walls to Apparate away, he spotted the Slytherin Quidditch team making their way back to the castle from practice. He couldn't fail to miss Damien Michaels break away from the crowd and trot over to talk to him. The young man had been making an effort to be nice to Draco whenever he spotted him in the hallway. It seemed strange to see someone else in the Slytherin Quidditch robes, with his old number embroidered on the back. He also couldn't fail to notice the young man's finely formed physique, and for the briefest of moments he wistfully wished that Michaels was at least a few years older. That thought was buried even more quickly than he thought it. He could not afford to let anything happen that could jeopardise this apprenticeship, and being caught with a student, no matter how hot they were, would be at the top of the list of huge mistakes he could make.
"Hey, Malfoy!" the boy ran up and smiled. "Where you headed?" he asked eagerly.
"Michaels. I'm just heading down to Hogsmeade. Shouldn't you be in class?" he asked.
"Yeah, I've got Potions. Snape never says anything when we come back late from Quidditch practice," He stepped up closer to Draco, "actually, I wanted to ask you something—"
Draco cut him off, "I really can't chat now, Damien, I shouldn't be encouraging you to skip class. Maybe later?" He noticed the look of disappointment in the boy's face as he gave him a dismissive wave and turned towards the gates. He didn't mean to be so curt, but knew that Severus really didn't encourage their tardiness. Within moments he Apparated to Hogsmeade.
As he arrived in town, he was surprised by the changes that had taken place in the small village since the end of the war. He didn't get a chance to see the town upon his arrival due to the heavy rain, but the town seemed newer and more vibrant than he recalled. The Three Broomsticks still stood proud in the centre of town, with a number of stores to the left of town still sporting the same old storefronts.
After being away for so long, it seemed like he was walking through a new town. Honeydukes seemed unchanged in all its pastel green glory, as was Slug and Jiggers. Madame Puddifoot's seemed to be closed, with a sign saying a new store, the Leaf and Bean, would be opening soon in its place. Weasley Wizard Wheezes hung loudly and proudly in garish pink neon over the door of what was once Zonko's.
He felt the comforting warmth of familiarity as he stepped across the threshold of Slug and Jiggers. The store was exactly as he remembered from his last visit in his seventh year. The potions on the shelves had exactly the same amount of dust on them as the last time he walked into the store. The giant tubs of newt's eyes stood in exactly the same spot as he remembered. The slightly acrid smell of the store was a familiar yet somewhat alluring scent to him.
Alonius Jigger was an ageless old wizard, with a craggy face that held one expression. His long, lank hair and beard hung limply in testament to the many years he spent over a cauldron. His yellowed hands were cold and clammy. "Whatever are yer doin' back 'ere?" he confronted Draco when he recognised him.
Great, Draco thought and sighed. Someone else who probably thinks I'm either a traitor or a bloody Death Eater. I really don't need this crap from him. He suspected the man had the same opinion of him as most of Britain, "Pleased to see you again, Mr Jigger," he retorted mildly. "I'm apprenticed to Professor Snape, so I guess I'll be around more often than you might like."
"Good," Jigger replied emphatically. Draco was surprised, but the old alchemist continued. "Knew your grandfather, I did. Brilliant Potions master old Abraxas. Glad to see you followed in his footsteps, and not your father's." He slapped a tightly wrapped parcel on the table in front of Draco. It took him a moment to realise the man's toothless sneer was actually his version of a smile.
"Er, thank you," it seemed strange to receive a compliment from the man. He had been expecting everyone to malign him back here, but this praise was a little disconcerting. Well, if I include Severus and Granger, that makes a sum total of three people in England. A whole slew of supporters, he thought sarcastically. I could add Flash, but goodness knows what he would think if he found out whom he's been corresponding with.
They talked for a while longer, Draco not realising the slow release of tension that he had built up over the past few days. He had been expecting resistance at every turn from those he met, but so far (with the exception of the security wizards at the Ministry) everyone he met seemed to be nice – for want of a better word. Even that Granger chit had been more than passingly pleasant.
His ego seemed a little bruised at the unexpected pleasantness. The expected conflict and disdain had not been forthcoming. He was beginning to think that perhaps he was overreacting in thinking that everyone in Britain thought poorly of him. Not even Rosmerta had blinked twice when he sat down at The Three Broomsticks for a quick drink. Perhaps the time away had achieved the purpose of helping them to forget.
He continued his quiet wander through Hogsmeade, reacquainting himself with the available stores. However, he couldn't shake an eerie feeling as he walked down the high street. It felt like he was being watched. The feeling did not abate, but he could see no visible sign of anyone watching. He shrugged it off as a result of his highly suspicious nature, and the fact he still didn't trust most people. No doubt someone had seen him and was whispering behind closed doors. It was what he had expected.
As he made his way back to the Apparition area on the outskirts of town, he passed a copse of trees. A sudden chill crept up his neck and he turned sharply, drawing his wand. Unfortunately, his knee gave way and he lost his balance. Before he knew it, a wand was pointed in his face. He looked up and was unsurprised to find a familiar face. No wonder he never spotted his invisible stalker. After all, he had taught the Death Eater everything he knew about stealth. It seemed that Theo Nott had not forgotten his lessons.
"Well, well, well. The prodigal returns," Nott drawled. The stringy boy he last remembered had matured into a tall, pock marked man with a crooked nose. The last time he had seen Nott, the idiot was being held under the Cruciatus curse by none other than his own father. He wasn't sure if his former colleague's constant twitching was from nerves, or just the legacy of the unpleasant unforgivable curse.
"Nott," Draco wasn't totally surprised to see him. Somehow, he had been expecting it. He stood carefully, maintaining a firm grip on his wand. "I'd say it's a pleasure, but it isn't. What are you doing here? You do realise that you are still a wanted man, don't you?"
"Just wanted to make sure it was you. We'd heard a rumour," Nott studied the trees, wondering if Draco was alone.
"'We' as in you and your new friends, perhaps?" Draco wasn't surprised to find Nott involved with these Neo Death Eaters. He had always been one of Voldemort's more zealous supporters.
Nott stared at Draco, unsure of what to say. "I was asked to come and talk to you."
"Really? Did you and your friends decide to come out of hiding to return all that money you stole from me? Unless that's what you are offering, I've got nothing to say to you or your friends." He was bitter and his self-control was wavering.
"Touché, Malfoy. Took you long enough to work out you were being ripped off. I'm here to make an offer, Malfoy. My friends are willing to forgive you your discretions and cut a deal. You might yet see some of those Galleons again."
"You really don't get it, do you, Nott? Tell whoever it is in charge of your petty little band that I am not interested in any deals. In case you guys forgot, I play for the other team. I always have. I was never a fan of your former loony leader. Besides, even if some of your friends are interested in talking to me, there are dozens of others who would rather kill me first. Did you forget who it was who gave me this little reminder?" Draco indicated his injured knee. "No deal, Nott."
"Pity, Malfoy. We were hoping you might have seen the light and come home to join us. After all, you are our principal financier—"
"What part of 'No' don't you understand, Nott?" The stringy man looked around nervously as Draco spoke. He obviously had not been expecting Draco to turn down his offer. Nott was always terrible when a plan failed; he rarely had a backup plan. Draco suspected that Nott was not alone, but he wasn't expecting Nott to vanish into thin air.
Merde! Portkey, he thought in frustration as he raised his wand to thin air. Draco didn't stop to hang around. He could be back with a few of his new 'friends'. What was the point of that whole encounter? Surely they didn't expect me to quiver in fear and agree to their offer. Who is running their little enclave?
Severus wasn't surprised at all when Draco told him about the little confrontation as soon as he arrived back.
"I was expecting as much, Draco."
"And you didn't think to warn me?" he asked Severus incredulously.
"I wasn't sure. But with all this Neo Death Eater activity increasing, it doesn't surprise me now that they might just show their faces. I doubt Nott is terribly high up – the boy was never more than a lackey. He wouldn't have been too much of a loss if you had managed to get the better of him. Will you be reporting the little incident to the MLE's?"
"Of course I'm going to tell them at Magical Law Enforcement, Severus. I'm not stupid," Draco rubbed his temples to stave off the impending headache. "Weasley mentioned I was most likely under suspicion of being involved with them because of my missing money. If I keep quiet, and they find out later, then it's just proving them right, isn't it? Merde! I don't have any time for this shit!" Draco was furious. "Why can't they just leave me alone!" Severus left him alone to sulk. He had already forgotten his earlier good mood; his frustration rose at the feeling that things weren't going to get better any time soon.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled out quill and ink as he began the slow process of informing the MLE's. So much for his relaxing day in Hogsmeade. If he were lucky, he might actually sleep that night. It wasn't the first time he cursed the lack of decent coffee, and he doubted it would be the last.
A bout of eager knocking was heard on Remus Lupin's office door a little after lunch on Friday. Thinking it might be Harry, he quickly opened the door, but was completely surprised to find Draco Malfoy standing on his doorstep, a hopeful gaze on his face. He suddenly remembered a conversation earlier in the week with Severus, who told him to expect his apprentice. Of course, now it made perfect sense. Remus had wondered why Severus had finally decided to take on an apprentice, but seeing Draco here now, it became much clearer.
"Professor," Draco drawled lazily.
Remus was quickly over his surprise, "Draco, please, come in."
Draco seemed a little anxious to be there. It was a reaction Remus was used to, but he tried to put his former student at ease with a smile, "Severus mentioned his apprentice would be visiting. Is he getting ready to make the next batch of Wolfsbane? I assume he asked you to come down and ask me the usual questions—"
"Actually, Professor Lupin, I'll be brewing your Wolfsbane from now on," Draco remarked casually as he pulled out a quill and small parchment notebook.
"But..." the werewolf seemed a little hesitant, "Is that wise? He never said anything to me about someone else making it – have you ever made something that complex before?" He was worried that as an apprentice, Draco may not yet have mastered the difficult potion.
"With all respect, Professor, I've been the one sending Severus the alterations that he's been brewing for you this past eighteen months. Er, and just in case you are still concerned, Severus taught me to make it during the War. I, er, had several dealings with Lycanthropes during my tenure within Voldemort's ranks." Draco seemed a little indignant that his expertise was being questioned.
Remus tried to interrupt and apologise, but Draco continued. "Anyway, I was planning on devoting my research mastery year to this one potion, but events have conspired against me. Severus has been most generous to allow me to continue with my research as I assist him. I have quite a few ideas, and I wanted to thank you for all the input you have given to Severus on my behalf. I was hoping that we could continue that relationship and we could both, perhaps benefit from it."
The werewolf was stunned at the revelation. "Really? I always thought Severus was the one making the improvements. I – well, it's been great. I – thank you for what you are doing, Draco. I'm sorry if I seem a little stunned, but Severus never indicated that he had anyone he was collaborating with. In fact, he told me very little about anything, just that the potion was going through an improvement phase—"
"I'm quite aware that you and he never saw eye to eye, Professor, and I must admit that I was probably a little snot to you when you were my teacher, and I just wanted to clear the air and apologise," Draco was surprised at his own admission, but a small weight lifted off his shoulders as he voiced it. "Voldemort created havoc with his own dark creatures. I saw enough of that to last a lifetime. So many innocent victims, and like yourself, many have been wrongfully persecuted. It's unfair, and if I can do something to ease your curse, then I will do it."
"I never realised you felt so passionate about Lycanthrope Rights, Draco," Remus seemed stunned at the passion behind the young man's words. He offered Draco a cup of tea as they sat down. "And please, call me Remus. I'm only Professor Lupin in front of the students." He smiled at the former Slytherin, who returned it with a nod and a small smile of his own.
Still breaking the ice, Remus quizzed Draco on the source of his interest in Wolfsbane. "I saw first hand just what wild Werewolves could do, Remus. I saw the destruction they wove during the height of the War." Remus nodded. He knew intimately the desire to kill and maim and destroy. He couldn't begin to imagine what the young man had seen during his work as an Order spy, but he guessed that he had seen more horrors than the average person.
"There were so many innocent victims, Remus. Voldemort was trying to increase his ranks of dark creatures every month. Of course, now it just makes it harder for the victims to obtain the potion. I'd dearly love to have something that could be commercially produced, but I only have your feedback to help me. I really wanted to ask you today if you would still be willing to assist in my research, Remus."
"Of course I would love to help. It's not like I'm suddenly going to stop needing Wolfsbane, and I admit that in this past year, I've been feeling better than ever." Remus had been feeling great – he felt fitter than he had in years. Draco surreptitiously agreed as he watched the werewolf, noting that the man seemed to be healthier than he recalled from all those years earlier, and he attributed it to the improved potion. Of course, it didn't hurt that the man seemed to be at such ease in his own skin, and Draco couldn't help but watch the subtle play of muscles under his robes.
"Smashing," Draco offered. "Now, I was hoping to ask you a few more personal questions, in particular about your recent illness. I don't know if that will mean I should change this month's formulation of the potion, or if I should just keep to the last recipe—"
Remus and Draco spoke for a good hour, and the young apprentice seemed satisfied with the werewolf's answers. Remus found the time passed quickly. He had not expected to ever meet someone who was so much like Severus with his knowledge, yet so different in almost every way. Draco had definitely matured from the boy he remembered teaching a good decade earlier. Attractive, too, Remus thought, but quickly pushed that thought aside. He could sense the mild scent of interest emanating from Draco, but Remus was used to a variety of smells. Of course, it did confirm one thing, and he wondered if Severus had ulterior motives for taking Draco on as his apprentice.
For years Remus had felt that Severus brewed his Wolfsbane as if it were an unpleasant chore. It was refreshing to find that Draco seemed to be genuinely passionate about Lycanthrope rights. His efforts to developing a workable long term Wolfsbane were admirable, and certainly not unfeasible. Remus had once thought that Draco was a mini Lucius clone, and had often wondered if his desire to join the Order was some form of teen rebellion against his father. The war had left its marks on everyone, and in this case, it had brought forth all the good qualities of Draco's character. Qualities that had not been seen in the Malfoy line for generations. He found the boy had all the confidence and arrogance of his lineage, but it was tempered with a caring heart that was never something that Lucius could have claimed to have created. If anything, the boy was a Potions genius, and Remus had come to that conclusion after only one afternoon.
However, Remus realised that there would only be one problem. Harry.
During their conversation, Remus had mentioned Harry's name a few times, and he could not fail to see the dark scowl cross Draco's face. He couldn't miss the scent of hatred either. It was then he remembered that Draco and Harry were never the best of friends at school. If his memory served correctly, they had been even more vehemently opposed than Sirius and Severus.
Remus gathered that Draco was unaware of Harry's appointment to the staff, and he didn't feel it was his place to inform him. As for Harry, well, Remus didn't feel it was his place to enlighten him about the identity of the mysteriously good looking Potions apprentice.
Besides, he had no intention of doing anything to trigger Harry's anger. He had seen the raw undercurrent of power that rippled through the young man, and Remus had sensed that power escaping whenever he was angry. He had been quite intimidated by Harry's rather forward proposition earlier in the month, but knew that a relationship with Harry was wrong. Besides, Harry had a journal and his future was sealed in ink on parchment. No, Harry was not yet in full control of his erratic powers and Remus felt it wise to avoid mentioning Draco to Harry. Besides, He doubted that Draco would be pleased to know that his old rival was also at the school. He only hoped that they were both mature enough to behave like the young adults they were.
Dimanche, 27 Avril.
Hey Flash, are you there?
Yes, I just sat down. How are you doing? Any better than last week?
Oh well, I could bore you to tears with unpleasantness, or we could talk about other things to help me forget.
Okay. There's certainly no need to dredge up unhappiness if we don't have to. I can tell you about the 'lovely' week I had, instead.
You are quite right. I would 'love' to hear about it. anything to help me forget!
Well, the majority of it was spent trying not to get too upset with the fact that I had to return to my old job. They had me trapped, contractual obligations, and I had to come back to finish out the month. I guess I was just lucky that my new temporary position was able to wait until May...
Oh that's a bugger. I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you cursed each and every parchment so that when it passes through your bosses' hands, it leaves a lasting reminder. It's good to know that your new employer is so flexible. You deserve a little freedom after such a rotten job.
Oh, I should have thought of that! I would love to leave that kind of lasting impression on those ignorant, tunnel-visioned bureaucrats.
Of course, I think that sort of thing would get you into a little bit of trouble with the Magical Law Enforcement office, and you don't want to get on their bad side. I should know.
Yes, I suppose it would. You should know, huh? Had some dealings with the MLE in the past? Why Luc, you never told me you were a criminal!
Well, I'm sure we all had a run in or two with them during our misspent youth. I did have a few dealings, in fact, the memory is rather fresh right now. I ran into an old cohort this week and he tried to make me an offer I couldn't refuse.
Oh? But I presume from the way you're talking about it that you did, indeed, refuse?
Naturally, and I have been in touch with the appropriate authorities. Goodness knows more trouble is the last thing I need right now.
Well, honestly, do any of us ever really need trouble?
No, I'm quite happy to keep out of trouble of the illegal kind. I'm not saying that I'm disinclined to get into other types of trouble... on occasion.
Oh yes... especially with the coming Beltane season, I'm feeling an inclination for that type of trouble myself.
Ah, how could I nearly forget Beltane? I've been so busy trying to get into a routine here, I would have let it pass me by. Do you have any firm plans? What do you normally do to celebrate the sabbat?
Well, normally I just go with the flow. I never did much celebrating of the High Days until recent years, and Beltane has always been one of those that I wasn't quite sure how to celebrate. Last year I did go to a community Maypole celebration, but as for this week, I have no specific plans.
No other special celebration? Have you never been down to the fires?
I can't say that I have been before. I haven't checked out the local fires, but then, I'll be heading back to my new job mid-week. I don't even know what's planned in that area.
I have usually looked forward to visiting the fires every year, particularly since I have been of age, but this will be the first year in a while that I am officially unattached. I'm not sure how the locals will take to my presence. I thought my reputation may precede me here, but I've found a few surprising pockets of support. I'm not used to that.
The strange thing is, I've had this growing sense of anticipation recently – a strange feeling that something monumental is going to happen.
Something monumental? Yes, the magic around at this time of year can be quite powerful. You should protect your home lest it become inundated with the wrong sort of power.
Oh, that's true... rowan branches, right? As for the monumental event - well, this will sound a little silly, but I've had a very strong and very definite sense that I'm going to meet my soul mate and it's going to be soon. It's really odd. I've never felt more certain of anything, especially in relation to my love life, but I'm suddenly positive that there's a very special someone out there and he's just waiting for me, even though he doesn't know it. Suffice to say I'll be a bit hyper-aware of anyone I meet in the next few weeks.
Yes, do go with your instincts. I've found them to be so very important. I would not have made it through the war without mine. Of course your soul mate is waiting for you. He wouldn't be attached to anyone else if he were your soul mate. So what brought about this great revelation?
Well, we do sometimes get attached to the wrong people... it's happened to both of us, hasn't it?
It's not so much my attraction to the wrong person, more that I'm sure the locals will probably run away.
I'm not sure, exactly. I saw a couple of my friends who are very much in love, and some old associates who seemed quite intimate, and it was just a feeling that came over me. It was like a sense of calm and assurance that I would soon feel that sort of completion as well... not that I don't feel complete on my own, but, I have a feeling that whoever he is, he can make me more complete. Well, the wrong people doesn't necessarily mean there's anything wrong with them, just that they aren't the right people for us. Ollie was the wrong person, so was Charlie (not that I got attached to him). I'd wager that Jean-Paul was the wrong person for you... unless there's more to write on that book, of course.
No, no developments in relation to Jean-Paul. I've managed to stop the constant urge to jump in the Floo back to Marrakesh. But you are right. He has someone out there that is perfect for him. I have learned so much from the experience, and I absolutely want to put those skills into practice again.
Oh, the Tantric skills?
You got it.
You know, I learned a bit about that during my trip last week... just in theory of course, I've not had a chance to put it to the test.
Ah, don't you just hate the theory. I think practice is the best thing. So where have you been? You never mentioned any trip, or did you?
But apparently, the biggest thing about Tantric sex is not simply prolonging the orgasm, but actually focussing on the energy flow and combining the two people's energies. It can make both people stronger than they are alone.
Yes, I seem to recall that Jean-Paul mentioned something like that. I, er, was more interested in the practical side rather than the theory. Perhaps that is why I need so much practice. Or maybe I should take up some other discipline to help. I used to do Yoga.
I mentioned it in passing last week. I spent nearly a full week in the Orient, a tiny little island off the south of China, actually. My mentor said that when done properly, the energy flow during Tantra is very powerful and intense, and that there's actually not much in the way of action or stimulation because the whole purpose is about finding yourself in your partner, or something like that. He… ah… also said something about the experience being very intense and you could get lost in the moment if you weren't careful.
Oh yes, you did mention that. Sorry, I forgot. I've had so much on my mind this week. Well then I should investigate further and find someone who is willing to find himself in me. I can't write that and not think of all the innuendo attached to that phrase!
I'm sure Yoga would be good, if nothing else to make you more flexible for variety of positions!
Yes, I find that after my little war injury that the Yoga helped me to keep as active as I'm ever going to be.
Oh, there is a great deal of innuendo in that, isn't there? And I have to say, I could probably be convinced to 'find myself in you' if you were here right now. Being alone during the Spring Fever season is torture!
I haven't really practiced any Yoga in about six months. I associated it too much with Antonio. Yes, that is very wicked of you... I am surrounded by a seething mass of hormones at work and it is torture, I can tell you.
Well if I were around, at least I could find myself in someone I trust. I've been having a few trust issues lately, and I find myself rapidly narrowing the list of people I can trust.
I'm sorry. Do be careful who you trust, but don't narrow the list any more than you truly need to. It can be very lonely, closing yourself off like that.
Well, it's been quite hard not to. You do know about what happened down in Somerset, don't you? With that Muggle 'gas explosion'?
Yes, I read about that.
Yes, shocking stuff. I find myself worried that the people who did that might be some of those who weren't captured after the war. I know a Ministry cover-up when I see one, and this reeks of Death Eaters. It worries me so much that I really can't say anything, and now that I realise it, I have no idea who you are. You could have been involved, and now I feel a right git for thinking that, but see what I mean? I don't know who to turn to. I trust my mentor implicitly, and he shares my concerns. Those useless Aurors haven't lifted a finger. Sorry, didn't mean to get so serious, but it's just something I've had to face now that I am in the UK.
No, they haven't. It's incredibly frustrating, because there are people who could have helped them, and weren't notified or consulted about things before they got so bad... Now all these people are dead and the papers and the Ministry are covering it up again, and they'll dick around until it gets really bad like it did during the war. Don't worry about getting serious. Life is serious sometimes, and we can't really be friends if we can't discuss real life, right? Besides, at least now we know that we agree on something else - Bureaucracy breeds incompetence.
Touché. I'm sorry, but being here has brought out and dredged up many feelings about things I would much rather forget.
Perfectly all right.
So we agree that the Ministry is full of dicks, you have an exciting new job and you've become a globetrotter, I would do anything to go home to Paris right now, and we will both be alone on Beltane. Is that right?
Yes, I think that about sums it up.
Well, we could always get together for Beltane... and start practicing that Tantric stuff.
Oh! That could be fun! Although something tells me you're not one hundred percent serious about that suggestion.
You're right. I doubt I could get away. I'm a little isolated right now, and not being terribly serious. Didn't we say we would at least wait until Yule? We don't want to rush things now, do we? I've barely known you six months, although, something tells me you wouldn't mind if I were being serious.
This is very true. We wouldn't want to seem hasty. I still say Yule is a good time, and to be completely honest, I'll be travelling on Beltane anyway, finishing this job, starting the new one... I'm still peeved that they've managed to keep me here because of a stupid interpretation of my contract.
Ah, the old binding wizard's contract.
Well, to be perfectly honest, no - I wouldn't mind if you were being serious. See, I've been debating whether or not to tell you this, but...
Go on, you know I won't judge you.
I know you won't judge me, I just don't want to scare you off... I had the strangest dream the other night. I was with someone... someone very special, but I never saw his face. It wasn't strictly what I would call a sex dream, but there was some sex in it. It just... felt so right... so perfect. We were just there together, just enjoying being with each other... It was almost like the same feeling I got when I think of the notion of meeting my soul mate soon... a total sense of everything being just right, love, completion... I'm a little afraid to write this because I don't want our friendship to change, or especially to go away, but you know how this journal works, just pulling and pulling until you spill your secrets... Anyway, when I woke up and remembered the dream, the first thing I thought of...
Draco sat and waited. For a moment, he thought that Flash had gone. No words appeared on the page for a few minutes. If he didn't see the tell tale drip of purple ink, he might have thought that his confidant had just vanished. He reread the last paragraph. What was Flash trying to say?
I think it was you. I think I dreamt I was with you.
Draco sat and blinked in total surprise. Flash had what sounded like a very personal and intimate dream, and he thought it was about him? He didn't really know what to say to that. Am I upset, what do I really think? I'm honestly speechless. Well, I'm not angry, or sad, or upset by it. I'm going to need time to think about that. He realised Flash was waiting for some sort of response.
See, I knew I should have just kept that to myself. I'm sorry, it was probably just because we chat regularly, and... well...
Sorry, Don't be ridiculous. I'm... well, I'm well... speechless. Please don't go – I was merely thinking about what you said.
I'm not gone. Just embarrassed as hell.
I really don't know what to say, Flash. I don't think this changes our friendship, as such. I never realised you might think that way about me. I guess I have come to think of you as a confidant of sorts. I've never actually thought any further than that about our friendship. I'm sorry if my stupid flirting has given you the wrong idea, or built up your hopes.
No, don't be sorry about it. See, this is what I meant. I don't want you to second guess everything you say to me. I have no specific hopes at this point. I have a really strong feeling deep inside that I'm going to meet that perfect guy soon... and well, we're not meeting until at least Yule, right? it's fine, really. I think of you as a confidant as well, and I never consciously thought of a relationship between us, the notion just popped into my head that morning.
See, I think that all that damn sexual tension in the air has been playing tricks on you.
I think it was probably because I would like a guy that I can have these types of conversations with... the fun, casual chats as well as the serious, thought-provoking discussions... it's the type of thing that I feel is important in a relationship, and with you is the only time I've experienced it like this... So I just have to find someone in the flesh that can offer me the same thing and has the same interest in learning Tantra as well!
Although, I found from your first words that you are an intriguing individual, Flash. Perhaps... but as you say, you're going to meet your soul mate soon. Whilst I'm stuck here surrounded by imbeciles. Besides, it was a dream. You have no idea if your dream lover looks anything like me. Yes, I think that you have summed up my desires as well. It really is laughable. If someone else were to read our words they might think that we are a perfect match...
You're probably right... though the sexual tension has abated some since my trip to China. That really helped me find my centre a little more. I have no idea WHAT that dream lover looked like, but I have no idea WHAT you look like, either.
Yes, it is laughable isn't it? Perfect match indeed!
Normally this is where I'd tell you that I am devastatingly handsome. I believe I could possibly compare myself to one of those actors from Lord of the Rings. If I were big noting myself and flirting, that is. You've certainly cheered me up tonight, Flash. Don't think on your words. If you can't tell me, then honestly, who can you tell?
Oh? You wouldn't happen to look a bit like Legolas, would you? Because honestly, with a little work I could try to pass myself off as Aragorn, and I hear some fans think they make a hot couple!
Yes, I'm sure you do... and when I see you in the flesh you'll look like Samwise. Stop telling tall tales. I really do look like an orc.
Oh, I seriously doubt that!
Well, I do work with an old wizard who could pass for Gandalf.
Besides, I'm harbouring a secret crush on Gimli... I think it's leftover from my charms professor...
Draco knew then for a fact from that statement that Flash had indeed been to Hogwarts. He doubted any other dwarves taught charms at any of the other English schools. He was just about to agree with Flash when he held his quill back. He didn't want to mention just yet that he too had attended Hogwarts. For some reason, he felt it best not to mention the school at all.
Oh dear, you are a funny man. Reality being cast by Lord of the Rings. Just as long as Boromir is free, I'm a happy wizard.
Oh, I'd have to agree with you on that one! And I'm just lucky enough to work with someone who has that same wild handsome look, too!
You work with Boromir? Damn, where can I get a job like that?
You just have to get lucky, I guess.
I haven't laughed that hard in ages! But do pass Boromir this way when you've had your wicked Tantric way with him, won't you?
I most certainly will! I have to share, isn't that what we're taught is proper?
Which brings up another of those rather risqué questions in my mind, and now it's passed out onto the paper. Have you ever indulged with more than one partner at a time? Oh, shit, sorry... Ollie did that to you, didn't he? Sorry.
I'll just shut my mouth and keep quiet now. Damn journals.
He did that, but not to me... just in front of me. Don't worry yourself over it, he really doesn't bother me any more. I've never indulged, but I've toyed with the notion a bit.
So you really have moved on? That's good to hear. I must say I have indulged, but it wasn't my idea. I can't say I particularly enjoyed sharing then. I can be quite greedy. I expect my partner will be satisfied with what he gets from me, alone.
Yeah, that's my feelings on it as well. That's why I've never done more than toy with the idea. I suppose I sorta have some romantic notions about sex.
Don't compromise your own ideals if you really aren't comfortable. It can be okay to just say no. If your partner isn't happy with that, then he doesn't truly respect you.
Exactly!
I sometimes feel as if we are a meeting of great minds. I am yet to find something that we totally disagree on.
It's a little weird, isn't it... refreshing, but almost disconcerting at the same time.
Hmmm, especially since we seem to have the truth dragged out from under us by the damn cursed magic in this journal. I think I'll need to make it a mission to find something that we disagree on...
How do you feel about butter beans?
Er, you can take them or leave them. I eat them, but I don't crave them. They can be a little bit mundane. Eggplant?
Only if it's cooked just right... I've had some really good eggplant parmesan, but other than that I don't care for it much.
What's your favourite chocolate? are you a soft centre or a hard centre man?
Hmmm, I'd have to go with a soft centre - and nuts, I like nuts!
Well, you see, there you have it. I am yet to find a soft centre I like. I prefer something hard I can bite into, like a caramel. Although, I don't mind a nut centre. We don't like the same chocolates - I knew we would find discord. Of course, next thing you'll be telling me you are a lifelong supporter of the Cannons or something like that.
No, not at all. I primarily support the Tornadoes, truth be told, though my support has varied on occasion over the years... the chocolates, that'll be a true issue.
Yes, but I guess that if you were being optimistic, you could say that we could find harmony in that, and we would never argue over the last chocolate in the box. Damn! Still no severe grief between us. Well I haven't followed the Quidditch in a very long time, although I am familiar with the Falcons, but I don't particularly get upset who wins or loses, although I don't mind it when a team uses underhanded tactics and gets away with it.
Oh, I needed that laugh, and the look on the bright side, as well. It does seem like the perfect solution to eating all the chocolates in a variety box, doesn't it? The Falcons aren't bad. I can't say I've ever gotten extremely upset over a Quidditch loss, except for when it was my school team losing.
Yes , school Quidditch can be nasty, can't it?
Yes, it can!
I guess I'll have to ponder the greater questions in life this week... I'm determined to find out something that we can amicably agree to disagree on.
Okay, I'll see what I can come up with as well! There's got to be something we don't see eye to eye on... As for now, I think I need to call it a night. I still have a mountain of paperwork to finish in the next few days and they've run me to death this week.
Do you need any help in working a few subtle curses into that mountain of paperwork? Extreme diarrhoea? A nasty case of piles? Erectile dysfunction?
Oh, how I would love to curse my supervisor with some of those... but I'd better not tempt myself.
So I won't mention a book called 'Horrendous Hexes for Heinous Harridans and Hags' then?
Right, you don't mention it, and I won't go looking for it on my lunch break tomorrow.
Perfect. Yes, I am a little tired myself. I do hope you have a good Beltane. Don't try to avoid it. It can be a dangerous time if you don't at least try to protect yourself from all that errant magic.
I'll keep that in mind, you have a good one, too, and I'll check in with you next week to see how it went.
Okay Flash! Take care!
Will do, you too. G'nite, Luc.
April 30, Beltane Eve
By the last day of the month, Beltane Eve, word had gotten around that Harry Potter was leaving the Ministry. He dreaded the thought of some sort of pathetic little party to say goodbye with everyone spouting insincere platitudes. Harry was grateful for Arthur Weasley's intervention when the Minister called for an official decommissioning ceremony. In the quiet, but publicised ceremony, the Minister thanked Harry for his years of service to all wizard kind. Harry seemed amused by Arthur's veiled threat to restructure the Auror division now that he was gone.
Harry had one more stop after leaving the Ministry for the last time. Quality Quidditch Supplies wasn't terribly crowded as he stepped in to pick up a few supplies. In fact, he realised that there was hardly anyone left in Diagon Alley. Looking up at the calendar behind the counter (Harry did his best to ignore Oliver Wood's insincere smile beaming down from Mr April) he realised it was Beltane Eve. Even though he had discussed it with Luc only a few days earlier, it suddenly hit him that he would be alone tonight.
That thought put a dampener on his rather happy return to Hogwarts. It was ironic that his old job, and his old life, ended just as he was celebrating the start of new life. He quickly ducked into the florist just before he left the Alley. He wasn't terribly superstitious, but ever since discovering his wizarding heritage, he threw himself wholeheartedly into that heritage wherever possible. He knew that as a child he would have gathered primroses on Beltane Eve and thrown the flowers at the door of their home for protection. At least, that's what he thought he would have done.
After the war, Harry spent many days researching everything he could about the Potter family. It became quite an obsession for a while. He learned that the family was steeped heavily in the deepest pagan traditions, reaching back for centuries. Apparently his mother had given up on her Irish Catholic upbringing when she and James married. According to Remus it had not been an easy decision for his mother, but in deference, James agreed that their children would have Christian baptisms. He wanted them to make their own choices when they grew up. It was the only reason he had a godfather, which was quite uncommon in the wizarding world. According to Remus, their conflicting faith had been the one bone of contention between his mother and father, but James had loved Lily deeply enough that they saw beyond their religious differences. Of course, Harry could now see why Petunia loathed his father.
The only thing Harry avoided on Beltane was visiting the fires – alone. He had gone in previous years when he was with a partner, but knew that if he were to attend alone, well, Harry knew how much he loved public attention. With a great sigh, he realised that he would be spending this Beltane alone. He wondered, absently, if Remus was doing anything, but shook his head. His friend had explicitly turned down his offer in the past, and Harry didn't want to seem desperate, even if he felt that way most of the time.
No, he would just head up to his new rooms at Hogwarts, place the rowan branches at the windows and doors to ward off unwanted spirits and magics during the Sabbat, and spend the night in quiet meditation and contemplation.
The highlight of Draco's week was his rather eye-opening chat with Flash. He was thoroughly surprised by Flash's admission that he might mistake an imaginary dream lover for Luc. Draco had not considered thinking of Flash in such a way, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that Flash displayed all the qualities he sought in a life partner. It certainly gave him plenty to think about.
He was also pleased that Lupin was eager to help with the Wolfsbane research. At least he wasn't going to have any resistance from the werewolf.
The run in with Nott had curbed his desire to head anywhere outside the castle. He had contacted one of the Investigative Goblins from Magical Law Enforcement about his encounter, but he could glean nothing from the Goblin as to whether or not this was going to help him if they ever tried to charge him with helping the Neo Death Eaters. Severus told him to stop worrying, but Draco did the only thing he could when he was worried – he buried himself in his work.
He hadn't realised his self imposed isolation until Severus made mention of it, but he shrugged and claimed he was busy. A very long letter from Arianna brightened his week, her astute observations putting a genuine smile on his face. She too had laughed off the fact that the British paparazzi had inferred their relationship was more than it was. She decided to play up on that by writing to him on bright pink parchment dipped in some ghastly floral perfume. He could just see the cheeky grin on her face as she sent off the letter. No doubt she mixed it up with her father's mail so he wouldn't fail to notice it and make his own assumptions.
What did add to his worry was the lack of any return letter from Emmaline. Not a single word from his petite-mère, and he was genuinely concerned. It seemed strange that she would not send him at least a simple note to say that things were all right, but he couldn't help but be concerned. Perhaps he was overreacting, but he still wrote to her again. As an afterthought, he replied to Arianna (on sturdy, high quality parchment doused in his own favourite cologne and sealed with the unmistakeable Malfoy seal), asking her to check up on Emmaline on his behalf.
The whirlwind of activity continued as he visited the infirmary to discuss the specifics of soporifics Madame Pomfrey needed. He had purposely delayed his trip until after he knew Granger had finished her internship with the school nurse. He really didn't want to talk to her again, even though she had been passingly pleasant to him.
Poppy had indeed been impressed with Draco's efforts and she even commented that his previous batch of potions all had a favourable reaction when they were needed. "I don't know how you do it, but I have been told you can actually make some of them taste a little better. I don't know why Severus insists on making them taste worse than dried dragon dung," she commented, "but you didn't hear me say that," she added hurriedly.
Severus visited Draco each evening to ensure things were running smoothly. They took their evening meals together, Draco enjoying the opportunity to talk with his old friend and mentor. It felt good to be able to discussing almost anything with him. There were very few subjects he could not broach with Severus, but he had Flash to talk to about those.
The pair were sitting quietly on Wednesday evening, both relaxing after a very pleasant dinner. He had long given up hope of Dobby ever making a decent coffee, so Draco transfigured a glass jug into a coffee plunger and brewed his own coffee from a very small bag of beans he discovered in his stores.
"I'll never know what you see in this vile swill, Draco. It's bitter and too strong, not to mention full of caffeine," Severus scrunched his face as he drank his coffee, but Draco noticed he never put the cup down until it was empty.
"Ah, but Severus, now that you've tasted it, you'll never want to go back. Trust me," He sipped at the espresso. It wasn't the same as what Emmaline had made for him, but in the absence of anything else, it would have to suffice. "What I do miss is the Patisserie," and Emmaline, where is she? "Are you sure you couldn't find your way to working in Paris?" he pleaded.
"Hmm," Severus snorted, "Well if you keep hounding me, I might very well decide to do that. You know I never could resist you whining for too long. I think that's an inherent Malfoy trait. Your father used to hound me as well, but for completely different reasons. Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you. Your presence is requested at a Staff party on Saturday night. I'm afraid it's one of those staff events that even I can't get out of, worst luck," Snape sneered.
"Oh? What's the occasion?" Draco asked curiously. He couldn't help but wonder what old Lucius could have hounded Severus about, but perhaps some things were best left dead and buried.
"I think Dumbledore's tired of the two of us seeking solitude. It puts a dent in his social schedule when we don't want to play with the other children. He probably wants to show off the fact that he's got two Potions masters, even if the party is only for the other staff. Actually, he mentioned something about other new staff, so I guess he wants to introduce Hooch's replacement, and I really hope that nobody is announcing their impending retirement. I guess it's that time of the year."
"Any idea who's replaced Hooch?" Draco offered Severus another of the cinnamon cakes. Severus found them hard to resist, and Draco was more than pleased that Dobby had remembered how much Draco enjoyed those little cakes when he was a boy.
"No idea, but no doubt Albus will make a grand song and dance about it come Saturday," Severus offered as he left.
Draco woke with a dreadful pain in his neck. He had fallen asleep at his desk yet again. Looking over at the clock, he could see that it was quite late on Wednesday evening. A curious glow was coming through his window, and he got up slowly, taking his time to stretch and get rid of his aches and pains. Those complex arithmantic equations had been taxing, but he didn't think they would put him to sleep.
The glow seemed to be coming from Hogsmeade. He could see tendrils of flame flickering over the treetops – the cause of the strange glow. A moment of panic ran through him as he suspected the worst. Just as he turned to alert someone, a strange object in the courtyard caught his eye. Squinting, he thought he recognised it. Looking over at the calendar, he immediately relaxed.
He had been so preoccupied, he had completely forgotten the sabbat. How could I forget Beltane Eve? He considered for a brief moment heading down to the fires, but quickly turned and headed back to sit by his own fire.
He knew why it had slipped his mind. The idea of spending the most important of the Sabbats completely alone was something he really had been avoiding. This was the first Beltane in years he would be alone. Memories of previous Beltanes, including the last one with Antonio, brought a wave of overwhelming guilt. It had been a most memorable occasion, one he would never forget. However, he was doing his best to do that now.
It felt wrong not to do something. He didn't want to go to the fires alone, even though it were highly likely other single witches and wizards would be there. He should at least do something to celebrate the arrival of spring and new life. It was indeed a magical night, and he would need to take care. Strange things had been known to happen to those wizards who did not protect themselves on such a powerfully magic night.
The guilt at doing nothing began to gnaw at him. Just as he decided on a course of action, he heard a noise just outside his door. Not the door to his chambers, but the door to his adjacent office. Draco scowled. He knew that the students often attempted pranks on the staff on a night like this, but he was in no mood for any of it. Being the closest door to the end of the hallway made it a prime target for such an instance.
He didn't expect to see anyone there, but they had left behind a small gift. Looking around, Draco found the hallway empty, but nearly tripped over the large rowan branch left on his doorstep. He looked at it quizzically. Surely it wasn't something that was part of a prank. He checked it for charms or hexes before he touched it. It appeared a totally harmless branch.
Who could have known that he was planning on getting that very thing from down at the greenhouse? Who knew he was planning on placing rowan branches at his windows and doors for protection? Some of the old ways may have seemed silly to some, but Draco could remember helping his mother do this very ritual when he was a little boy. If he wasn't going to be an active participant in the whole Beltane ritual, he should at least acknowledge it in some way. Somebody else must have realised he was planning that. Seeing nobody else, he could only assume that Dobby had somehow remembered and anticipated his need.
It made him feel suddenly old. This was the sort of thing lonely old wizards did. He didn't continue that morbid thought, but bent down and took the bough, closing the door and heading back to place it against his window. He was trying very hard to forget about all he was missing. He couldn't think about that - not now. Flicking the radio on to drown out the joyous sounds of the happy students, he was soon lost in the heavy and hypnotic beats of Muggle rock music.
Unable to concentrate, he decided to take a shower to relieve some of the tension. He felt much better and clearer headed afterwards. Of course, wanking in the shower was really not his style (he would have preferred a partner there to help), but it seemed the only thing he could do that would help get his mind off his maudlin thoughts and allow him to concentrate.
Dressed in his black silk pyjama pants and open silk dressing gown and feeling quite refreshed, Draco poured a glass of wine as he returned to those ghastly arithmantic equations. Very soon he was concentrating on how the brewing times would affect the combination of ingredients in his next batch of Wolfsbane. A much more worthy pursuit than the frivolous pursuit of love and happiness, he thought with just a touch of bitterness.
Harry's day had been extremely long – what with the decommissioning ceremony and the long wander through Diagon Alley. Ron wanted one last night out with Harry before he left to return to Hogwarts. It seemed Ron was enjoying the opportunity to spend quality time with Harry down at the pub every night. Harry didn't want to say anything aloud, but he also suspected that Ron didn't get the opportunity to eat much greasy pub food when Hermione was around. Ron's wistful look at the plate of bangers and mash was a dead giveaway.
He eventually dragged himself away from Ron and through the Floo back to Hogsmeade. As always, the Floo trip seemed much worse after a little too much wine. As he walked up to the school he saw many locals heading out towards the fires. As he wandered in through the school doors, he saw the same high spirits in a number of happy students heading out to the main courtyard. One glance over there showed the large maypole being erected. The good mood was infectious and Harry couldn't help but smile. It was good to see that the old ways were not totally dying out, even if he chose to celebrate very quietly this year.
He was yet to see any of the staff as he made his way to his rooms. He was looking forward to getting a good sleep. He wanted to be out on the pitch bright and early; a good flight before breakfast was just what he needed. He was stopped in his tracks, however, when the door to his rooms failed to open. "Alohomora," he muttered for the third time. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He tried the same on the door to his adjacent office, but to no avail. "Waddiwasi," he tried half heartedly. Nothing happened. He sighed at the possibility someone might be playing a prank on him, now that he was on staff.
Carefully laying the rowan boughs at the door, he headed down to see Remus. Surely he would know what was going on. He suspected Peeves might be trying to welcome him back to the castle in his own warped and twisted way, but the thought of dealing with that poltergeist, and then Filch, was one he didn't want to contemplate tonight.
Remus was clearly not in his rooms, but Harry thought he would try to get into his room one more time before disturbing anyone else. As he came back to his own door, he noticed the rowan boughs were missing. Now he knew something was definitely amiss.
He tried to unlock the door again, but was getting quite frustrated. Surely I didn't set any different locking charms on the bloody door? I don't remember if I did. "Finite Incantatum," Harry muttered in frustration. The door didn't budge, but he could faintly here what seemed to be a wireless coming from the other side of the door.
Surely I didn't drink that much. I know these are my rooms. Who the bloody hell is in my room? And why are they playing Muggle music? For one moment, Harry suspected that Remus might be in his room. Would he have changed his mind? Harry was a bundle of confusion. All he wanted to do was sit down quietly in his own rooms. He ventured a firm knock on the door.
There was no response, so Harry knocked louder. He wasn't surprised to feel a number of wards being dissolved but he jumped back when the door opened in a sudden rush.
"Look, whoever you are..." the voice sounded all too familiar and full of its usual ire. Harry looked up in complete surprise to find Malfoy just standing there, lounging against the door of his room.
"What the bloody hell are you doing in my room, Malfoy?" Harry had the presence of mind to voice the thought. He was desperately trying to look anywhere else but the pale chest and dark silk pyjamas presented before him. "In fact, what the bloody hell are you even doing at Hogwarts? Aren't you shagging some politician's daughter overseas?" Not the most eloquent of insults, but Harry forced his way through the door. "And what in Merlin's name have you done with all my stuff?" he cried with increasing confusion.
The whole time Malfoy just stood there with his usual smirk. "Oh, do come in and help yourself, Potter. Isn't it enough that the entire wizarding world wants you? You want to come knocking on my door all hours of the night and claiming it's your place. Perhaps that usual swill you imbibe has finally gone to your head," Malfoy's cold and calm presence did nothing for Harry's sense of confusion. Please tell me they didn't get Malfoy to replace me whilst I was in London. Don't be ridiculous, Harry thought, he couldn't fly, not with that limp.
Harry shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. As he looked around the room he could not find one single recognisable thing. Perhaps he had got the wrong room. Perhaps the stress really had got to him.
"What is it, Potter? Is there some reason you come barging in here, or has the kneazle got your tongue?"
"Why don't you tell me, Malfoy?" Harry finally found his voice, even if he found it bloody hard to concentrate whilst Malfoy was standing there half naked and looking better than he should. "Why don't you start from the beginning? I haven't got all night, you know. I do have classes to teach in the morning."
"Classes? So you're a teacher now, eh? Being an Auror not good enough for you any more? No bad wizards around to blow up so Potter thinks he can do anything he pleases? Thinks he can just take over wherever he wants," Draco droned in quiet fury. How dare this over-pompous git just come knocking on doors late at night?
"Just stop right there, Malfoy. I could ask you the same thing. What on earth are you doing in the staff rooms here at Hogwarts anyway?" Harry looked around the room again, looking closely at the desk and the piles of books, parchments, herb and test tubes. It did indeed look like Malfoy was settled in for quite a while. A sudden thought crossed his mind, but Malfoy spoke before he could voice it.
"Well at least some of us have careers, Potter. Not that you really have any interest, but..."
"...So you're that new potions apprentice, the one Snape has been fawning over? It all makes perfect sense, now, come to think of it." Harry retorted hotly. He really didn't want to get into a slanging match with Malfoy, not now.
"I think fawning is a little harsh, Potter. I'd say professional respect for a colleague is what you should be calling it. Not that you seem terribly observant. As you can no doubt see," Draco indicated with his arm, "this is clearly my suite of rooms. I'm sure you were perhaps, mistaken, about which rooms you have been assigned." Draco winced at his own patronising tone. He really did sound like his father just now, but that quality always came to the fore when he was dealing with Potter.
Harry really didn't appreciate the veiled sarcasm coming from Malfoy. The ferret was up to something. Harry could sense it. One minute he is wooing French heiresses, the next he is apparently ensconced at Hogwarts working with Snape, again. "So what happened to all my furniture and belongings that were here before you just took over?" Harry wasn't truly in the mood for a confrontation, and he knew when to hold back, lest he lose control.
"I have no idea, Potter. All I know is that my belongings were here when I arrived." Harry just stood there thoroughly confused, his hand running nervously through his hair.
Draco looked away. What was the bloody git thinking? Barging in and carrying on. The man was definitely touched in the head. Draco rolled his eyes and moved towards the door. He had noticed Potter eyeing him off and for the first time he noticed his own half undressed state. He furiously tied his dressing gown. How dare the drunken snot start ogling him? That was the last thing he needed tonight. He remembered something Severus had mentioned earlier about Potter's previous visits to the school.
"I suggest you leave now, Potter. Perhaps the werewolf might let you share his bed. Unfortunately mine is already taken." Malfoy's drawn was unmistakeable. Harry fumed. How dare he make insinuations about him and Remus! Harry was conveniently forgetting his own previous desire to shag Remus, but that was not the point now.
Draco held the door open and their argument spilled into the hallway. "How dare you insinuate..." Harry shouted. The lights flickered around them. Harry looked up in surprise. He was letting Malfoy get to him.
"I think you need to calm down, Potter. We wouldn't want your control issues to get out of hand, now, would we?" Draco fully remembered when Potter lost control in the Leaky Cauldron. He was trying to lead him as far away from his lab as possible. He really didn't want to have to clean up the mess that would ensue if Potter completely lost it.
"You just don't know when to stop, do you Malfoy?"
"On the contrary, Potter, I'm not the one who disturbs other's privacy..."
Harry was adamant, "...but these are my rooms."
"It seems you are the delusional one." Draco retorted calmly.
"I am NOT delusional, Malfoy! I moved in here ten days ago! Where is all my stuff? If this is some stupid Slytherin prank, then congratulations. I'll be sure to take it out of their hide when I referee their Quidditch practice tomorrow!" That was the only logical explanation Harry could come up with.
"Oh, so you're replacing Hooch," Draco said with complete disinterest. "It seems you truly are a jack of all trades. I suppose in some quarters the saying must be true. 'Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach'. I do hope you manage to stay on your broom this time, Potter."
"Why you little..." Harry's wand was drawn by this stage, and Malfoy somehow had his own wand pointed right at Harry's chest. Harry blinked. How could he let the bloody ferret get to him like that? He blinked again. One lousy evening, and he had nearly forgotten everything he had worked so hard for with Lao Kuai. He took a deep breath and stepped back from Malfoy's wand.
He tried to focus on something - anything other than the inviting expanse of neck running from below Malfoy's ear to the top of his collar. Of course, Lao Kuai mentioned that whenever his magic got out of control, his sexual urges went along for the ride. Why wouldn't he find the git appealing? Harry closed his eyes, ready to walk away from Malfoy. He would go and find Remus and sort out the problem. Knowing Malfoy, he probably kicked up some sort of fuss and stamped his foot and bought his way into that room. After all, it was one of the nicer rooms in the staff quarters.
Draco really wasn't in the mood to put up with a recalcitrant Potter. It was bad enough that the git demanded that these were his rooms. Draco really didn't need or want to know that Potter was on staff, but he wasn't about to take any nonsense from him. He had had enough of hearing about him every single day since he returned to the UK. Still, Potter always brought out the worst in his personality, and he never realised he had drawn his wand until Potter took a deep breath and stepped back.
"Is there something I can help you with, gentlemen?" The headmaster's interfering tone was exactly what was needed. "The students said there was a little disturbance in the halls, but I had no idea that two of my staff members were ready to hex each other," he said disapprovingly.
"Professor, I moved into these rooms when I was here over Easter. It seems that Malfoy has managed to take over during my absence. I merely expressed my surprise and confusion at finding him here. I'm just tired, sir, and I'd dearly love to crawl into my own bed and get a good rest." Draco looked at Potter in stunned silence. The git was a smooth talker when he wanted to get his way. Draco's eyes narrowed.
"I know nothing about this, headmaster," Draco offered in reply. With a deep sigh he explained his side of the story to Dumbledore. Am I always destined to be explaining my actions whenever Potter is around? Surely I'm not going to moving out of here. Severus will have a fit. Malfoys never back down. Especially not to Primadonna Potter.
Draco was extremely bored, and just a little cold, from standing in the hallway in little more than his pyjamas. He offered the use of his Floo to contact Severus and prove Potter's embarrassing little episode.
After what felt like hours, and numerous calls between Severus, and now Remus (who was grabbed by Potter when he walked past), it turned out that Potter had indeed moved into the rooms first. Severus had assumed Potter's packed belongings were just items in storage, and had the elves move the entire lot into another storage area.
Draco watched in amusement once he realised that he wasn't going to have to move. The headmaster agreed with Severus that these were indeed the best rooms for a Potions master. Draco sat back and watched the byplay as both the headmaster and the werewolf tried to bend over backwards to accommodate Potter. He tried to avoid watching Potter during the whole mess, but found himself involuntarily drawn to the casual Muggle wear beneath the outer robes.
Draco couldn't help but notice the sheer power rippling behind Potter's geekish façade. He turned away, disgusted that he could even consider watching Potter that closely. He watched him interact with the werewolf instead, and definitely saw that Potter desperately wanted something from Lupin. So he wants Lupin, but the werewolf won't put out? I'm impressed.
Eventually the impromptu gathering broke up from Draco's living room and he got the peace and solitude he was longing for. He certainly wasn't going to get any more work done tonight. Potter's belongings had been found, and Draco's face fell as the headmaster suggested that Potter take residence in the empty rooms right next door. Any hope of avoiding Potter all together was now gone.
Harry felt a little put-out, but totally unsurprised that Snape would just ride right over everyone else to ensure Malfoy was comfortable. The git was already spoiled enough. One look at Malfoy's belongings told Harry that the conceited ponce had not changed one bit. Some days Harry wondered just what it was that convinced Malfoy to defy his father's loyalties during the war. Apart from that one thing, he seemed the same stuck up prig Harry had known since school.
Harry really didn't care where he slept, he just wanted to crawl into bed. The rooms next door were practically the same, just without the attached lab (he didn't even know the room had a lab attached). He was a little disappointed he couldn't see any of the Quidditch pitch from this window, but looking down into the small courtyard, he knew exactly where he would be doing his T'ai Chi come morning.
It didn't surprise Harry in the least that Malfoy protested when he tried to take his own rowan bough back to his new rooms.
Malfoy couldn't believe Potter's audacity in taking his rowan bough from the window. He made a mental note to take stock of his other valuables after Potter left.
"Must you turn everything into a pissing contest, Malfoy?" Harry was really tired now. He would have just left the bough, but there was a principle at stake now. Malfoy might have his room, but he'd be buggered if he was taking his own bough.
"You're absolutely right, Potter." Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise at Malfoy's acquiescence. He sounded as tired as Harry felt. "Just take the bloody thing and get out. I'll curse you in the morning - when I'm awake." He turned to look at Potter after hearing a loud snap.
Potter had snapped the bough in two – offering half to Malfoy. Malfoy didn't accept the offering, he just continued to watch Potter in amazement. Fed up, Potter rolled his eyes and returned half the bough to the window sill, stalking out with the other half.
Why did Draco feel that his apprenticeship was suddenly going to be interminably longer than he first thought? The derision from the public – Draco could live with. The constant doubt from them as to his trustworthiness – he could live with that too. Having to see that smarmy smirk and put up with Potter's over inflated ego on a daily basis – that was going to be torture. For the briefest of moments he considered Nott's offer. Nothing could be worse than this.
Still, he thought, it's not like I'm going to be anywhere near the Quidditch pitch. If he just keeps himself away from my bloody rooms, then we might just be able to stick it out – Merlin, I hope Hooch comes back next year. After all, I put up with the git for seven bloody years, what's a couple more months?
As Draco fell asleep, his half conscious mind had one rather disturbing and disconnected thought. Potter's cologne was that same one that had been following him around for the past few weeks. The thing was, unlike the way Jean-Paul wore the scent, this time it smelled just right.
Harry stalked back to his new room. Dobby had made sure that everything was there, but nothing other than his bedding and clothes were unpacked. His pillow was firm yet soft, but as he closed his eyes, he could not help but recall the silky flowing swirls of fabric surrounding Malfoy's giant birch bed. Harry rarely admitted to jealousy, but that was a bed that Harry could only begin to dream of. He renewed his vow then and there. He was going to start acquiring all those wonderful belongings – old furniture and quality accoutrements. In fact much of Malfoy's stuff was reminiscent of the furniture he remembered from Roussillon.
Harry was definitely overtired if he was thinking about Malfoy's furniture. It had been the longest day imaginable and the run-in with Malfoy made it just one idiot too many that he had been forced to put up with. He doubted Malfoy would spend much time out of the dungeons, especially if he were working with Snape. Harry didn't think he would be spending his days anywhere near the castle, so he really hoped that he wouldn't be dodging barbs from Malfoy every day.
Just when Harry thought his life was looking up, someone threw Malfoy back in his path to show him that there would always be obstacles to overcome. Harry sighed as sleep finally overtook him.
Draco woke slowly. The feel of the rough Indian cotton against his skin told him where he was. Marrakesh. A slick sheen of sweat covered his body and he could feel the hair at the back of his neck curl in the dampness as rivulets of sweat sluiced down his face, back and chest. The tension and the spark were pooled in his groin, and he revelled in the memory of this feeling of sheer anticipation. He attempted to move, but found his wrists bound above his head with a fine silk scarf. Somehow this felt familiar, yet completely new at the same time.
He turned to find Jean-Paul's dark visage meditating in the corner of the bed. "Please..." Draco pleaded.
"Patience, Draco. Focus your thoughts on every inch of your skin. Send your desire into every pore. Focus on where you'd like me to touch you. Imagine someone is touching you there. You aren't allowed to come, not yet. You want this; you need to know what it's like to feel the desire as it leaks from every pore, not just your cock."
Draco squirmed. He did want to feel it. He needed to feel such an exquisite level of desire, but he was so close to release he could almost taste it. His untouched and heavily leaking cock pulsed and lay heavily against the sweat soaked curls of hair trailing down his stomach. His balls ached to be touched, yet Jean-Paul would not relent. He had brought Draco to such a frenzy, then at the last minute stepped away.
"I want..."
"I know what you want. I can smell your desire. Take a deep breath and let it go deeper. Can you smell my desire? I can feel it, touch it, taste it thrumming in every inch of skin," The voice deepened and sent another quiver of desire through his inner core.
"Yes..." Draco squirmed. He wanted more. He grinned as those hands finally touched him. However, it only took a few seconds to realise something didn't feel right. The hands didn't feel quite as he remembered. The voice was different – a little more husky. This had to be a new lover; he could feel the greater sense of anticipation he had sought for so long.
He desperately wanted to touch and taste this new lover's flesh, but found his hands were still firmly held above his head. He could smell the heady scent of the man's arousal, mingled with that now familiar cologne that had haunted him for weeks. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and willed his desire to the fore.
Upon opening them again, he found his hands freely roaming over every muscle and tendon of his lover's defined back. His tongue sought every dip and clough of the man's body. The taste seemed familiar, yet different, and when he looked up into his lover's eyes, he found he could not focus on the man's face. He momentarily frowned, but found firm hands seeking to make their own exploration of his body.
This was it, the vision. Draco could feel his pleasure rising to even greater heights as their two bodies slipped and slid across the now smooth cotton sheets. He found himself again at the mercy of his lover's tongue as it kissed its way up his thighs, and he looked down through half lidded eyes to see the messy head of dark hair as a warm, hot mouth breathed against his cock, and a talented tongue tickled its way into the dripping slit and under the ring of foreskin before pulling it back and exposing the pulsing head of his cock.
The tension and the spark were back. He couldn't hold off for much longer, but as his own hands were trailing through the dark mess of coarse hair, he felt an equally talented pair of hands searching out the more intimate and tender parts of his body. These hands – they felt so familiar – so potent - as he felt the magic emanating from them at their electrifying touch. They knew just where to touch him to make his desire come to the fore.
The sweat was pouring from both of them now. He desperately wanted to hold off, but his lover was doing everything in his considerable power to make him reach that explosive climax in the quickest possible way. Every lesson from Jean-Paul echoed as it reminded him to keep control, yet this lithe lover had him yearning to reach out and grasp and beg and suck and fuck with every fibre within.
Looking down through the streams of sweat dripping into his eyes, he watched in lust as the dark haired lover bobbed over his now fully engulfed cock. His hips rocked in a sensuous rhythm as firm and slightly calloused fingers began doing unimaginable things to his balls and the urge to succumb overtook all others. He could stay like this for all eternity, but his own mouth yearned to touch and taste that delicious mouth, and it eagerly awaited the unknown taste of his lover's undoubtedly throbbing erection.
The dark head looked up and met Draco's eyes. The face of his lover began to coherently form. The dark eyelashes blinked in lust and closed as they took one deep suck and the tension faded as he felt the surge of power pumping into that deep red mouth. The sudden shock of release pounded in his chest and as he quivered from the waves and aftershocks ripping through every pore of his body. Jean-Paul was right; it was so much more exquisitely intense for the experience.
He looked down into the lusty eyes of his lover. Those deep green orbs had always contained so much contempt and hate. But now, Harry Potter's eyes were only looking at Draco with complete passion and trust.
Draco sat up with a deep gasp and a shudder. The sheets were twined around him and he felt the sticky release covering his chest and the sheet. He heart pounded in his chest and he took a while to get his breathing under control. It had been a while since he had experienced such an intense wet dream, but the memory of what he had experienced with Jean-Paul was so real he could still touch it. The fact that it had somehow morphed into a dream about Harry Potter just piqued his anger and frustration.
"Fuck," he screamed at no-one as he slowly tried to get out of bed. The most action he had experienced in a couple of weeks, and it was a wet fucking dream. About Harry fucking Potter. He knew it was only an extension of their heated confrontation the night before, but still, it should not have happened.
As he showered, he felt the tension that had eased from his body after the intense dream, but he quickly realised the source of power that triggered the dream. Since coming of age, Draco had always attended the Beltane fires. He had always spent the night at the fires with one partner, or another, or several if he could rightly remember the events from his first year in Paris. His subconscious no doubt decided that he needed to continue that celebration, and pulled out a very vivid memory of his time with Jean-Paul. In the way of all subconscious thoughts, it also decided to mess with his mind and place the face of his least favoured person to that dream lover.
Fate was cruel, and he vowed to never again ignore the pull of the Sabbat if such a disturbing dream was the result.
Harry awoke in a tangle of sweat and come covered sheets. The difference this time was the vivid clarity in which he remembered his dream, and he rolled over and groaned, punching his pillow. Even in China, his dreams had maintained the same intensity, yet remained wisps of memory. Of all his semi-forgotten dreams over the past months, and of course, that one with the faceless lover, why did he have to recall every detail of being ploughed into the mattress by none other than Draco Malfoy?
He tried everything he could to get the dream out of his head as he went through the T'ai Chi forms down in the courtyard. He had overslept, even though it was still quite early. He couldn't quite centre himself this morning, but the dream had left him feeling quite sated and calm, so he wasn't too concerned.
He could still feel the touch and taste of those lips on his skin as he showered away the aftermath of the dream. It was such a strange dream, after all, he could distinctly recall the dream originally starting with Remus. It didn't surprise him that the dream Remus had suddenly morphed into that French Quidditch player, Lucas Fournier, but he couldn't remember when the dream lover became Malfoy. All he could remember was seeing the licentious appetite in the blond's eyes and knowing that it was all for him. He could still feel the fine hair through his fingers and knew that it had been a moment of sheer bliss and perfection.
But thank the Gods it was only a dream. How embarrassed did he feel? Malfoy was practically married to some rich French girl, and here he was reliving some very old fantasy that was practically forgotten. He surmised that the heated argument with Malfoy the night before was the impetus to the dream.
He was soon dressed and ready in his new black Quidditch uniform. It felt good to be back in the soft feel jersey trousers and the long leather boots. Surprisingly, the dream had taken the edge off his constant lust and he felt ready to face his first day as Hogwart's Quidditch instructor.
As he walked through the castle on his way to breakfast, he noted the wreaths and rowan boughs, and as he passed the windows leading past the courtyard, he remembered the maypole. Suddenly, the crazy dream made even more sense. Beltane. Of course he always had intense sexual dreams around this time of the year. Even his relationships seemed more intense at this time of year.
Of course, the vision of Malfoy in dark silk pyjamas crept into his thoughts again. Why the fuck did he have to meet the git last night, of all nights?
His thoughts were quickly overcome with nerves as he headed into the Great Hall for breakfast. The weather was good with just a light headwind hovering around the ground. Even the enchanted ceiling agreed with his weather check. With a wide grin, Harry faced the hordes, and his future, with renewed energy. In his good humour, he had almost forgotten about Malfoy's presence in the castle.
The good mood was quickly dampened by the sight of Malfoy sneering down from the high table. How quickly he had forgotten about the idea that they could avoid each other. Unfortunately, a very vivid memory of his dream chose that moment to pop into his head, and he blushed profusely from his roots right to the edge of his collar. Lady luck was obviously missing, for the only empty seat at the head table was the one next to Malfoy. If memory served, Hooch always sat near Snape, but Malfoy's presence had obviously bumped her one seat up the table.
Fortunately, Remus sat on the other side of the vacant seat. Only now he noticed nearly all the students had broken out into intense whispers. He really hated being the centre of attention. At least this was not as bad as the public in general. He would soon have them all in their place.
Harry helped himself to tea, and sat back to await the inevitable announcement from the headmaster.
Draco was a reluctant starter at breakfast in the Great Hall. He had managed to avoid it for a few days now, but a polite word from Dumbledore the night before indicated that his presence was expected at the Great Hall each morning and nearly every evening. Severus had obviously been reminded of this small requirement as well, and he looked as happy as Draco did about it.
He wasn't surprised to find Potter making a grand last-minute entrance. "Typical." He mumbled under his breath. It was with some horror that he realised the only empty seat was the one next to him. So much for the hope they could avoid each other. Potter was blushing furiously and smiling at Lupin as he sat down. Merlin, he's as transparent as anything, Draco thought. He returned to his crumpets and tea as Dumbledore began his announcements for the morning.
Draco knew better, but couldn't resist one more jibe, for old time's sake. He leaned over to Potter and whispered quietly, "Having trouble finding the Hall, Potter? Or did you end up in the Greenhouses, convinced that the plants were all students?"
"Put a sock in it, Malfoy," Harry whispered a little too loudly, thumping his tea cup back on the table. A few of the teachers looked at them reprovingly, but Harry nodded an apology. He could only begin to suspect that Malfoy was only here to test Harry's control. There was nobody else around who could help Harry to lose his temper any quicker than him. Perhaps Lao Kuai had employed Malfoy for this task.
Harry was introduced as Madame Hooch's replacement and the resounding applause was deafening. Draco bit into the lemon in his tea as the school lauded their wondrous hero. The attention seeking git was no doubt enjoying every minute of it. Draco felt the urge to put him back in his place.
"So do you want some tips on catching a snitch, Potter? I'll be available to talk to the seekers some time after half three if you want to send them to me," Malfoy crowed.
"What the bloody hell are you on about?" Harry looked at him incredulously. He was doing all in his power not to imagine Malfoy in those silk pyjamas.
Malfoy shrugged. "Surely you want the students to talk to the best - a real seeker - someone who's actually beaten you to the snitch."
Merlin, is he still on about that? "Somehow I doubt they'll be interested in listening to someone who can't even sit on a broom." Harry knew the words were completely out of line the minute they left his mouth. He was concentrating so hard on not letting Malfoy get to him; he said the first thing that popped into his head.
Malfoy's features darkened, his face clouded in fury. The fucking git has taken it too far this time, Draco thought in anger. Isn't it bad enough he's the one who caused me this injury, now he has to fucking taunt me with it! My taunts were innocent and now he's the malicious one. Draco stood, his eyes displaying his disgust with Potter.
"Touché, Potter," Draco spoke a little too loudly as he nodded in defeat to Potter, and many of the students looked their way. A few of the older students nudged each other knowingly. They remembered the known animosity between the pair. They were hoping it might degenerate into something entertaining.
"Malfoy..." But Harry's voice came too late. He could see Malfoy muster every ounce of his dignity and limp carefully out the door.
"Damn!" Harry cursed loudly.
"Harry – I think you've done enough damage for one morning," Remus spoke reprovingly.
"I know, Remus. Shit. It's just that every time he opens his mouth..."
"I understand, Harry. I don't think you realise just what he's been through. I think you could have picked anything other than his war injury..."
"I realise that, Remus. I was trying so hard to keep my cool; I forgot that my mouth runs off sometimes..."
"Please be careful, Harry. You're not children any more. I don't think Draco is the same boy you remember, either."
"How do you know so much, Remus? He's only been here a few days." Harry seemed a little put out by that fact.
"He's the one that's been making the improved Wolfsbane, not Severus." Harry was genuinely stunned. Malfoy? Remus continued. "He's doing an in-depth study of the potion for his research and he's asked me for my input and assistance."
"This is the same Malfoy who wanted you arrested for being a werewolf?" Harry sounded sceptical.
"No, Harry. This is the grown up Draco Malfoy, not the scared little boy under his father's thumb. I think you need to distance yourself from the two, Harry," Remus admonished.
"I will if he does," Harry replied churlishly. Remus just rolled his eyes. It was indeed going to be very interesting to watch those two working together on staff. Of that, Remus had no doubt.
Harry could not help but think on the old Chinese curse he had come across back in China. May you live in interesting times.
Indeed, life at Hogwarts was now infinitely more interesting than he could ever imagine.
TBC
Publish Date: (this chapter) 11-January-2005
Updated: 28-February-2005
Chapter Length: 40,646 words.
Authors' Notes: We would like to thank each and every one of you for your patience and continued interest in our little fic. We're having a great deal of fun writing it, despite the delay in chapters at times. We're hoping the next chapter won't take quite this long, but with real life sneaking in and throwing things at us that we're not quite expecting, we can't make any specific promises. Again, though – thank you! Now (from Wintermoon) I have to say that because of the insanity of my real life, Azhure has done more than her share on this chapter and it totally wouldn't be here this soon without her continued devotion! Thank you a million times over, Azzie!
Thanks to our reviewers: Kiarene, Arrhythmic Song, Sully J. Milsteria, Lily Evans Potter Black Lupin, dreamerdoll, Lundra, Megan, OxBeachFlirtO1, Lelimo, futago akuma-tenshi02, Amy2k, marlee, thedarkside45, bubblypop, dan-rad, menecarkawan, dragenphly, Kaaera, Emily 22, ShadowQuirk, Slyffindor Witch, driven to insanity, AsheslovesHarry, Blahness Mucho, Frankie-SMYRC-girl, Regulus, CuriousDreamWeaver, harriet, Angel-Wings6, eladnarra, gina87, M'Lady, saFire flame, AnnieT, closetfanficaddict, Separatrix
Special Notes…
Vegeta's Mate: thanks so much for reading! There's no sequel planned for this, but we estimate about ten more chapters, hope that helps.
Shena: nope, neither of us have ever visited any of these places. It's amazing what google can offer, and I'm thrilled that we've managed to make the locales seem so believable.
Tangledhair: you said by Tuesday! Tomorrow is Tuesday! And yes, you can hit it with Lupin if you want, perfectly all right with me.
Louise4: you know, you're right. I wish Harry had hugged Maggie – glad you liked her.
It'sJustMe: wow! Thank you for that, it's a lesson we're both learning in our own lives, so it's coming out in our work. I can't tell you how good it makes me feel to think that our characters are coming across as that real!